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Showing content with the highest reputation on 09/11/2019 in all areas

  1. 5 points
    Roleplay combat is arguably the only platform where you want to give the kind of detail that you don’t want to read in a novel. In a novel, no one really wants to read “Jack swung his scimitar diagonally upward from his left to right, the convex of the blade aimed for his opponent’s chest, targeting from hip to shoulder”. Not as fun as reading just “Jack swung his sword for his opponent’s chest”. Because this lets the reader imagine the details instead of having them spoonfed. In roleplay combat, you conversely need all this informational nonsense in order to mount an effective response. It’s just how the game is played. Same with details on the weapon you are using. I think there should be an inherent and universal requirement, including the type of weapon and dimensions, but I think there can be additional information that might not be needed outright unless asked for. I mean, I don’t usually specify the weight of my weapons. I rarely know what they are and have never really had weapon weight factor into PVP beyond obvious ‘dagger vs greatsword’. I might say my blade is made of steel but, especially in a fight where uber-awesome material is prohibited, like shiny moon metal from Planet Moon, few if any are going to show up wielding iron or bronze. Which all ties into asking, not assuming. Assuming things is tricky territory. If for some reason you need to know the weight of your opponent’s dagger, ask before you respond to them IC. If your opponent fails to provide the orientation of their attack, ask before you respond IC. If you don’t get an answer then it gets treated like failure to post within the timeframe or something on their part. If it’s information that you need and they are not providing then perhaps it is their responsibility. Just my eleventy cents.
  2. 4 points
    Pasion Pasiva

    The Valucre Photo Album

    After more than a decade, I finally got to meet my best friend.
  3. 3 points
    By the time Rodan heard Lunara calling out to him, the creature that had been accosting his servant, Kaya, was nothing more than a pile of plant matter and dirt. Looking up from there, he saw the vines of another of the earthen beings bearing down on him, or rather, on Lunara who was heading right toward him. It was a good move for the Faerie, as Rodan immediately reached a hand up and caught one of the vines as it tried to snake past him. Being a simple organism, Rodan needed little time to sweep his power through the vine and toward its source. The matriarch of the earthen beings quickly realized that something was up, and began to suddenly shift her vines toward Rodan. They gripped at his legs and his arms, even his neck, intending to pull the man apart at the seems. Yet this only strengthened Rodan's connection, and the pressure being applied to his own limbs steadily declined, as the vines rapidly lost strength. From the outside, it would look like Rodan was the one in desperate straights, for her stood there, wrapped in vines, unable to move and not bothering to struggle. Yet, it was the earthen creature that found itself defenseless, as Rodan began to mutate it from the inside out. <No, how can this be? I cannot be defeated by a mere mortal man! Release... me... AAAAAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!> The creature let out a shrill cry, as its body disintegrated around it. The vines went limp and fell to the floor as their central hub was reduced to a pile of dirt. Rodan simply shook them off, as he stepped toward the spot where the earthen matriarch had stood, then crouched down over the pile of dirt. Brushing the disconnected earth and soil aside, he fingered a tiny object buried just below the surface: A ring, colored a speckled mix of earthy browns and vine-hue greens. Rodan grinned in satisfaction, as he slid the ring onto his open left middle finger. "Welcome to the family."
  4. 2 points
    Shoddy day made better by having lunch with a familiar face. ❤️ Thanks for visiting, Ty!
  5. 2 points

    Tavern of Legend Season 3

    @The Courier @Asphodel “Now, now,” Vaddock the bartender made a reassuring gesture towards the patron at the bar (May). “It’s not poached, it’s a matter of survival. This monster of a bear had attacked many travellers along these parts in order to steal their food. A reward had been put up to subdue it. We’ll make sure no part of it is wasted. Fresh bear meat on the menu!” He stepped outside to meet with Aster. “Yes, I’m sure this is the fellow. Good job guys. Now, I promised those bear skin cloaks that would do you good in this cold, but I will need some time to prepare them. If you could bring the carcass around to the back please. You might want to step into the Tavern for a round of drinks and food, on me. I’m sure some people would want to hear of your exploits!” @CelvestianNesy “Excuse me sir,” a barmaid approached the table where Nest sat. “I’m guessing from your.. usual dressing that you’re not from this parts?” She hesitated for a moment. “Do you understand Common? Um, well, we require customers to check in weapons at the counter please.” She pointed at the corner, where weapons of every shape and size were deposited.
  6. 2 points
    Shouldn't assume anything. I believe each entrant should describe his weapon's basic form and overall dimensions in Trueblade. If they don't, they will be asked to, politely. If neither side do, they will both get a stick to fight with. A stick that will have to be shared. That being said, nobody should be having a weapon that is outside of what may be considered basic for their style of weapon. This means no spring loaded chain in a mace, no serrations on a longsword, no spikes on the edges of a shield, no indestructible nodachi even if thats its only odd attribute (looking at you Fierach... wait thats me and I'm not entering). Trueblade happens to have 8 contestants, the brackets will be posted by Thursday, the stages by Saturday. If it had been less, I would have set up a round robin function. Yes you will be allowed to change weapons and armor inbetween rounds.
  7. 2 points


    Drasir The Free City Bilgewater - Street, Sean Yang Drasir is, first and foremost, a free city in Ursa Madeum, and is therefore not subject to the Kingdom’s rule or to that of any noble house. Over time, it has grown into a seedy metropolis built on piracy and greed, known for its drunken, boisterous charm, as well as its ruthless clientele. Founded five hundred years ago, Drasir traces its roots back to the legend himself: Sir Creighton Drasir, pirate captain of the infamous Tide Turner and its motley crew. The story goes that the Tide Turner met its doom out at sea during the catastrophic Twilight Storm—all while carrying vast amounts of riches that would make even the wealthiest of Andelusian nobles swoon. Merchants were the first to discover its wreck along the western coast of Thraece, dashed against treacherous, maw-like cliffs. The ship was reported to be empty, oddly enough, with no trace of its crew or cargo anywhere in sight. Believed to have survived, rumour spread that Drasir travelled inland to hide his treasure. Rogues and sailors, outlaws and warlords, even pious knights flocked to the sight of the wreck. A small community formed as a result, birthing the port town of Drasir, with each subsequent visitor building upon its shaky infrastructure until it evolved into the glorious pirate haven it is today. As things currently stand, Creighton Drasir’s true fate remains a mystery. Geography Topography Drasir is situated along the west coast of Thraece, deep in the recesses of a winding fjord. Its cliffs are set into a U-shaped valley flooded with saltwater and precarious sea stacks that render navigation difficult. Both ends of the channel can be freely accessible and are the only reliable methods of reaching the city—the cliffs surrounding it are often too steep to travel on foot, making the area a highly defensible location. Some of the rock walls tend to curve up and outwards, giving the impression of a jaw with stalactites for teeth. The heart of Drasir lies in such a sight, often referred to as the Maw, and is connected to a dense network of caverns burrowing deep through the fjord’s outcroppings. Cityscape For a city with no regard for the delicate matters of infrastructure, Drasir has done remarkably well for itself, regardless of its many faults. Amid the barnacled, rotting docks, the weather-beaten buildings, and the zoo of debauchery running wild through the streets, lies a gritty sort of grandeur. The architecture is sweeping and vast, scaling cliffs with towers that lean a little too far to the side, always building upon itself like a hive fashioned from wood, stone, steel, and the occasional drop of blood. Much of the city is navigable by boardwalks, rope bridges, creaky stairs, and primitive elevators. A few districts are fraught with caverns hiding all manner of curiosities. Several outposts litter the fjord, typically acting as exclusive clubhouses for gangs, with plenty of ships crowding the docks belonging to one type of crook or another. Climate Drasir experiences a subtropical climate like the rest of Ursa Madeum but gets noticeably more fog and than cities further inland. The weather is fair year-long, the temperatures peaking during the new year (June). There tends to be heavier rainfall from November to April, and a dry season from May to October. Flora and Fauna > Olihen – The story tells of an unnaturally giant squid that can drag ships all the way down to the Fortuna Gallo, where crews will find rest amid the ocean’s darkest depths. An ancient and elusive creature with the ability to decimate fleets and leave no trace of its appearance. Few have claimed to see it with their own eyes, and only a handful are telling the truth. > Bore Leech – Not all battles need to be won with cannon or rifle fire. Often all that’s required is a barrel of bore leeches, a bit of saltwater to ‘activate’ them, and a means of launching the barrel over to the offending ship in question. Given a few minutes, these worm-like creatures will tear through the thickest of hulls with vicious ease, using razor-sharp teeth to decimate anything and everything in their path. > Scarak – One of nature’s finer attempts at creating a walking nightmare on eight legs, complete with large pincers, a sturdy exoskeleton, and a stinger sharp enough to puncture steel. Pressurized sacs inside of its abdomen allow a Scarak to heat ingested water to boiling temperatures. This water is kept in reserve for emergencies involving larger predators, upon which the Scarak can either squirt or inject it via the stinger at the end of its tail. > Coral Golem – Unique gestalts created from a colony of parasitic invertebrates called Pirinoa. These creatures begin as tiny polyps drifting underwater in search of a host to infect via ingestion. Should this occur, the polyps spread through the host’s body, infecting bone, muscle, and organs until eventually reaching the central nervous system. At this point, the colony assumes full control of all bodily processes, using its host as a mobile, carnivorous feeding ground before decaying into a more traditional coral deposit. Pirate Cove, Piotr Krezelewski Culture Drasir is a corrupt city of opportunity where gold and violence are the only two currencies that matter. No one rises to the top without being ruthless, a little cunning, and more careful than a jester at a funeral. Throughout the years, the tides have swept together an unruly sum of society’s refuse: drunkards, murderers, thieves, wenches, all with no place to go but Drasir for solace. Economy Despite the city’s ramshackle appearance, plenty of coin passes through its hands; it’s just a matter of knowing where to look for it and having the stomach to actually go fetch it. In many regards, Drasir is a place of extremes, where the poor are some of the poorest in the entire nation. On the flipside, the rich are some of the richest, hoarding treasures valuable enough to sway armies. Travellers looking for under-the-table merchandise will discover no limit to what they can purchase. Black markets mingle freely with candid businesses, offering exotic wares that would normally be impossible to find anywhere else. Some goods can be also acquired through favours—quite a few individuals are fond of making their debtors work—or bought on a patron’s credit depending on how much influence they wield over the market. Education Crime and profanity. Those are the two things Drasir will teach a man. Any other skill is secondary and better learned elsewhere in Ursa Madeum. Government There is no official authority governing the city, nor has any measure of law been formally established. What few rules that exist belong to the powerful and the wealthy, including gang leaders and pirate lords, alongside merchants who’ve secured a sizeable influence. Security Without a proper guard to police the streets, citizens are forced to look out for themselves. Gangs offer protection services for a premium to people residing within their territory. Mercenaries line every corner, assassins roam alleys and rooftops, and noble souls looking to keep the peace are far and few in between. Despite the lack of solidarity inherent to the city’s nature, residents have frequently come together to repel invasions from the government. These historic displays of power have deterred any further attempts to conquer Drasir, as anyone foolish enough to try will be met with the full might of Ursa Madeum’s villainy. Notable Residents > Dorian Finch – Arguably the most enigmatic pirate lord in all of Drasir, privy to secrets and information that could turn a kingdom onto its head. His wealth knows no bounds, nor does his long list of favours, and he seemingly has a hand in everything and anything that goes on within the city. Rumour has it his face was stolen from him long ago by an ancient spirit. He wears a blank mask at all times, covering even the eyes, in addition to a dark hood concealing the rest of his head. > Vera Granger – A half-elf and longtime madame of the Pink Pearl, which serves as part brothel, part steam-house, and part theater and burlesque parlour. It’s a little-known secret that Vera is a powerful witch, proficient in the arts of scrying and charm crafting, among other lesser magics. Many come to her seeking their futures or simple tokens of good luck, but her services don’t come cheap, and happy endings aren’t always guaranteed. > Amadeo Mortimer – Amadeo is the leader of the Shepherds, a fairly new gang in Drasir, known for his hateful disposition towards all abnormal beings. Nonhumans, mages, and beasts have much to fear with him in the city, as he’s fond of rounding them up for public execution, with each subsequent show gaining a larger following. The Sea Devil, Brenda van Vugt Notable Locations Within Drasir > The Black Spot – Easily the ugliest tavern in Drasir, but also the largest and rowdiest. It burned down thrice in the past decade and stands to burn down a fourth time every night. The barkeep, Madman Smithers, is a shifter with hammerhead shark-like features. He has the habit of quelling bar brawls with outrageous violence, which, unsurprisingly, serves to aggravate the situation even further. > Fig Town – No one really knows why this market is called Fig Town. There are no figs to speak of, and it’s clear that most of its shoppers have never seen a fig in their lives. The market is tucked away in a massive cavern lit by torches and lightstone veins, with several offshoot tunnels branching outwards into the cliffside. Different shops open at night when the others close down—it’s generally agreed upon that the best merchants present their wares from midnight to dawn. > Executioner’s Drop – A colossal waterfall, estimated to be sixty meters tall, slanting off the edge of the city into a river leading inland. Rows of jagged rock line its perimeter, housing makeshift prisons and watchtowers. It’s a popular tradition to execute one’s enemies by tossing them over the edge of the drop. Outside Drasir > Fortuna Gallo – It’s common belief that the souls of those lost at sea will inevitably find their way to this oceanic trench. The water above Fortuna Gallo runs like a dark scar on the ocean’s surface, and its depths are whispered to be the home of unknowable terrors like Olihen. > Whalesgrave – A coastline filled with whale carcasses found on the northern shores beyond Drasir. There are as many as thirty dead whales lining the ground in varying states of decay. The air is putrid with rot, teeming with carrion feeders of all shapes and sizes. It’s considered bad luck to visit this area, as far too many in the past have died from illness shortly after. > Great Fog Reef – Several miles to the west lies a region permanently shrouded in fog, concealing a gargantuan reef beneath its waves that remains largely unexplored. Some claim to hear whispers coming from the fog, others distant cries for help. Those curious enough to venture inside usually don’t come back, and the few who make it out alive are haunted by the reef’s mysteries. > Putnam’s Point – A precarious little settlement hidden atop the fjord’s southern entrance, watching over the sea at large for any signs of potential danger. Messenger hawks are used to relay letters to a post office in Drasir, where the letter will either be read publicly or given to the appropriate correspondent.
  8. 2 points
    Xavier Xavier continued to fall toward the ground but seemingly didn’t care. He closed his eyes peacefully as he felt the wind rush alongside him from his descent. Any normal creature might wail and scream at the sensation but he knew enough about the gift that Blob Boss had given him to maintain his composure. Sure enough, Obtenebra burst into action at the prospect of its host being severely injured, shooting out of its comfortable place along the orc’s torso, downward toward the floor in a sort of coiled fashion. One could not be sure whether this was a mixture of Xavier’s own creativity with the ancient being’s adaptability or a conjuration solely from the blackened ooze but the ingenuity allowed Xavier to use his own descent toward the ground to spring himself back up with enough force that he’d be launched at a height slightly lower than he had been lifted by the earth magicians. The flying orc projectile flew in the air, a grin displaying the orc’s surprisingly clean teeth present as he slung back a fist and flew right through the conjured earth of several of their foes, crushing the rock and causing most of them to lose balance and fall toward the floor. The ensuing thuds of his form against the rocks would be heard, the sprays of rock moving every which way with no regard for his companions. A few measly rocks shouldn’t harm even the puny fairy he thought. His large bulk would eventually disappear from the line of sight of everyone as the pile of rocks he left in his wake would make it hard to see forward now. Agony When Agony noticed the physical limitations of the Helldriver, he was far from impressed but that wasn’t why he had been hired. The analytical mind of the amorphous being regarded him as an asset much like Rodan, better suited for specialized endeavors that did not require engaging in all out warfare. There was concern after the events of Anima and the events of Yh’mi that the possibility that whatever they had forged this last year would finally catch the wandering eye of those who did not agree with their methods or their beliefs. Something nagged at him and told him that Raphael and Roen were not the threats that would ultimately test the bonds of his….’family’. Cerebri’s verbal request would seemingly go without acknowledgment but it was simply due to the lack of conventional expression that was common with a being with no discernable face. A whip like protrusion would shoot out from the center of his mass, the cold ooze wrapping around the lever several times swiftly, some of the revolutions even coiling around Cerebri’s hands as he pulled on the lever. Agony pulled with considerable strength, enough that Cerebri would likely get a nominal sense of the physical power he possessed. The power was not enough to crush the rough hands of the Helldriver but the threat was there. That lever that groaned with the Helldriver’s strength alone would now submit to their combined power and begin hoisting the anchor from below. Several other scythe-like protrusions continued to slice away at any incoming hordes that managed to climb on to the ship, limbs and fleshy skulls scattering about. The fog in the distance suddenly dispersed and a black-winged behemoth emerged thrashing through the hordes of creatures and people below before it moved its massive head to look at the airships that were docked. The draconic creature set his sights upon their airship, the doom set upon this city ready to manifest itself before their very eyes. Agony sensed the immense amount of power in the creature. Power he had yet to achieve. His thunderous voice emerged from his black mass. “We need to leave now!”
  9. 2 points

    The Lizardfolk of Taen

    SAURUS INDEX I. BIOLOGY/ECOLOGY. IA. OVERVIEW IB. INNATE TRAITS IC. SPAWNING ID. CASTES II. CULTURE III. ORIGINS VI. CODEX SHEET I. COLD BLOODED IA. OVERVIEW The Saurus are beings shrouded in mysticism and conjecute; among academics, there are those that believe they are not a race - but a collection of intelligent, bipedal reptillian beastmen inhabiting Taen's deserts and jungles. In some way, this thought holds merit. A great dichotomy exists between the cadres of beasts that constitute the Saurus race as a whole, such creatures come in many varying shapes, sizes and temperments. As a whole, the Saurus are a collection of bipedal reptilian humanoids. Yet they are all of a singular, shared biological origin. From the smallest of Quetzlings, to the largest of the Huitzigors, they are beings one in the same. Of this race, there are two staple castes; the most common and prevelant of their engimatic species. Quetzlings the skitterish, dimunitive stratum of Saurus bred for their intelligence and dexterity. Small and agile, they are the in largest number of the Saurian population. Among their rank and file, Quetzlings hold the greatest level of political and economic authority of the Saurus race. From priests to craftsmen, scouts to skirmishers, Quetzlings are responsible for the running of the Lizardmen's empire as a whole; without them, their society would fall apart. Huitzigors are the monstrous, hulking warrior-caste of the Saurus race. Predatory savagery perfected, they are without weakness. Or mercy. Half-feral berserkers, theirs is a purer, simpler purpose compared to that of their cousins. Standing at eight foot on average, their dense forms are packed with coils of rippling musculature beneath a coat of interlocking armoured scales. Other variations do exist; namely a more feral, animalistic breed of Saurus. These beasts come in a motley collection of appearances and purposes. Some brutes are clad in layers of thick scales, used as beasts of burden to pull great blocks of granite in the construction of their Temple-Cities, others are voracious carnivores, used in war as mounts or unleashed on enemies to wreak havoc and destruction. IB. INNATE TRAITS Bipedal, reptillian humanoids - though greatly mutable in presence and personality, all of their kind share similar, innate biological quirks signature to their species. The most evident is their ectothermy. Reliant on the heat of the sun to regulate their bodyheat and metabolisms, Saurus possess an inherent adversion towards colder climates. Resulting of their cold-blooded nature, the Lizardfolk can appear to be sluggish or lax when deprived of external warmth. It's quite the spectacle, to see a horde of Saurus sunbathing and catching the rays of early morn. Many an explorer has noted that Saurus are remarkably fond of endothermic races, namely humans, for their ability to control their own bodyheat; countless pioneers have been subject to hours of smothering by packs of heat-greedy Huitzigors in what can only be described as cuddling. They maintain a remarkable amount of control over their metabolisms as well. A Saurian can subsist for several months without a meal - survivg off their fat reserves and tissue. However, they are naturally voracious and gluttonous as a race and eat whenever the opportunity to do so presents itself. Saurian senses are exceptionally keen. Eyesight is more refined on the Quetzlings than on Huitzigors. What their sharp, perceptive eyes may miss their ability to see sensitive pores along their snouts allow them to detect trace thermal radiance on their prey. A long, forked tongue will flick and taste minute chemicals in the air or on surfaces. A Huitzigor hunting party can track a bleeding creature for several miles with pinpoint accuracy. With a naturally affinity for the aquatic, Saurians make for skilled inhabitants of any body of water. Quetzlings are much more agile when in the water, their webbed feet and long tails propelling them through streams, lagoons and rivers in a blur. Huitzigors, however are slow and deliberate as they wade through the deeps. They prefer a sedentary approach, laying submerged under the water for hours with nothing more than their snouts breaking through to the surface. As well as this, the Lizardfolk have a startling ability to dredge up mounds of dirt and bury themselves in an instant. A lost limb or grevious wound doesn't immediately spell the end for one of the reptillians. With the shedding of their skin, rejuvenation comes to them. The first molt may only seal the wound shut, the second and the lost flesh may show the beginnings of its regeneration. After weeks of constant molting, a lost hand or leg will grow back. Albeit smaller and requiring time to grow again. IC. SPAWNING Beings forged from the shifting skein of magic of Taen's loci - Wyldlight. Their metamorphisis is dictated by the cycles of the realm's Suns and Moon, their bodies moulded like clay by the Arch-Priest Quetzlings who oversee the sacred spawning rite within their towering pyramids. Forged from biomancy, changed and mutated at the whims of the celestial bodies that loom overheard, the winds of the Loci that permiate their lands are guided and manipulated by the esoteric rituals of their clerics. In these cauldrons, cast from marble, a clutch is placed into the bubbling, viscous reservoir and fretted over by the Priest's attendants. Saurus females of every caste are invariably larger and much more tempermental than their male counterparts. When a female is ready to breed, the strongest of their race is elected to fertilize the clutch, to ensure the strongest of the race's genepool sires the next generation. Though the selection of the apex of their race is a twofold deliberation; females during their mating-rut become extremely aggressive, and it isn't unheard of for a bachelor to be wounded or killed during the ritual. Afterwards, the male plays no part further, as they make for poor parents. Aspect of the Sun - From which, the warrior castes are created. Biomagic is weaved into hymns and chants whilst a great portal carved into the chamber's ceiling allows daggers of celestial light to shine down upon the calcified shapes of the eggs. They swell and grow to an immense size and before long, a Huitzigor will rupture from the pool, roaring defiance to the world they have been brought into. The warrior-brood is quickly skirted off, as to prevent him to consuming any of his kindred whilst they lay dormant and awaiting their own emergence. Huitzigors are not the only cadre spawned during this cycle. The Sun shapes their forms into beings created for battle and the more feral predatory kith of the Saurians are spawned during this time as well. Aspect of the Moon - During the waning of the Sun and the slow arc of the Moon across the twilight skies, Quetzlings are birthed in great number. The shape of the moon will dictate the exact subspecies of Quetzling that will be born to the world. A crescent brings about a crested Quetzling, whilst a full, gibbous moon will see the spawning of the more common of their kindred. Great, hulking herbivores are created under the moon as well- living battering rams which their cousins quickly put to use. Aspect of the Eclipse - The Eclipse is met with celebration from their species, as it brings with it the creation of another wave of females. During the event, their temples are closely guarded and any outsiders are cast out without explanation. It is rare for more than a handfull of females to be born, however and so each one is a carefully guarded, prized resource by the males. ID. CASTES Queztlings "We're being watched. Watched as we fall to fever and the predators of this land. Glowing eyes cutting through the ocean of green around us. They've been stalking us since we arrived, speaking in their strange, chirped language. It sounds like laughter." 'Extract from failed expedition journal of Quadrant IV, Taen Book of Beasts, Chapter VII; Saurians' Hidden by the veil of the jungle, masked by the sands of the Sierra Ossa badlands, the Quetzlings stalk. Dexterous, agile and cunning they glide through the lands they inhabit without presence or detection. Their chirps and whistles call out to one another. Telling their comrades of prey and intruders. Quetzlings are the minds and spirit of Saurian society. Intelligent compared to their larger cousins, their responsibilities lie in the administration, construction, guidance and planning of their civilization. Social creatures, they are seldom seen alone and prefer the security offered by numbers. Exceptionally organised, they are perfect for the day-to-day running of the great, sprawling Temple-Cities they inhabit. Their communication is a series of subtle hue changes of their hides or a chorus of high-pitched trills and warbles. Without the presence of these creatures, Saurian society as a whole would collapse instantly. They are the craftsmen and priests that keep their species alive. Standing slighly below human height, they do not cast an imposing figure. Nontheless Quetzlings can be formidable foes when cornered or compelled to fight. Skirmishes and ambushers, they litter foes they have stalked with darts and bolas before closing in with spears and javelins. Their skin is fully capable of changing colour to match their environment, making them exceptionally difficult to see. With the Huitzigors they share a special bond; their larger kin find it easy to listen to the commands of their smaller kith and in return the Warrior-Caste recieve food, weapons and scratches for their efforts. A noted quirk of Quetzlings if their complete infatuation with the whistling of other races. Should one find themselves before a group of Quetzlings, whistling will usually be the best way to make a good first impression with them; and the sight of a dozen little Lizardmen bobbing their heads in delight is quite the sight. Crested Quetzlings are much rarer and intelligent than their more common brothers. They fill the ranks of the holy priesthood as leadership and diplomatic roles within their culture, as well as being the only members of their race capable of practising magic. Huitzigors "Rest easy, men! Do not think to run from these simple beasts. Their vision is poor, based on tracking the swift movements of their prey like most cold-blooded predators!" 'Supposed final words of Terran explorer Havri Gostlant, WTA 590' Three meters of hulking, inhuman musculature marches to the leather wardrums of his host. The warrior-breed, shaped by the Arch-Priests to be the personification of primal ferocity. Beyond conflict, their lives have no greater purpose; the rank and file of the Huitzigors are driven by their desire to fight and serve their kingdom to such a degree that they lack a sense of individuality. Without weakness or thoughts of retreat. Driven by predatory instinct and rage, the sight of a charging wall of muscle-bound giant reptiles is enough to make most forces route almost immediately. Huitzigors grow quickly, when pulled from their birthing pool. Then, they are picked by a prospecting pack of their brothers to be raised among their rank, trained in perfecting the art of war and battle. Hardly wanting in this aspect, a warrior will become proficient in the use of Macuahuitl, spear, shield and maul. Though the Quetzlings who command these warriors are hardly afraid to use them, peace (as adverse to the concept as Huitzigors are) must find some other purpose during times of relative tranquility. Many assist their smaller brothers in the construction of their settlements, whilst others put their great strength to use farming or as mercenaries for the various factions of Taen. For this they're well liked, seeing as they don't ask for much beyond food in regards to payment for their services. Though undeniably terrifying to look upon, Huitzigors are surprisingly calm and gregarious to strangers. Mostly because very few things can actively be percieved as a threat by the big brutes. They are rather fond of the body-heat that warm-bloods produce and will pin any unfortunate into a strange sort of embrace to get as much of it as they can. Despite their supposed lack of intelligence, the beasts are surprisingly witty; one wouldn't be incorrect in calling them laconic in manner and humour. The constitution of a Huiztigor is startling. A number of redundant organs, backed by an extreme pain threshold and wrapped in a layer of thick, hardened scales means that their kind are exceptionally hard to fell. Venom is produced by a gland located in their cheeks, which is paralytic and perfect for capturing prisoners for sacrifice or later consumption. Should a Huitzigor survive many battles and be allowed to grow to his full size, he will take on the role of a leader for his brothers. These larger Huitzigors are quite intelligent, compared to their kin and can convey complex thoughts and strategies, as well as learn and understand the myriad of languages outsiders speak. II. CULTURE "We were delivered to the peak of their tallest structure, a vast pyramid that stood in the center of the commune, and within waited a menagerie of the Reptiles. Unlike the tall, broad warrior-lizards that had felled my best men within seconds, these were small, diminutive creatures - reptilian humanoids with large, flared crests atop their heads. I had seen some scampering along our column and within the city, but the ones before me were certainly their elders - each was adorned with grim fetishes and trinkets, sharpened volcanic glass and engraved gold necklaces to mark their status. They conversed in clicks and chittering noises, the flaring of their crests implying a level of depth to their communication, but it was incomprehensible nonetheless. Though I know not of their deliberations, it was the dead of night when they finally deigned to see us. My clothing and stature had understandably presented me as the leader, and one of the hulking warrior-beasts brought me forth to the elders, who surveyed me with keen interest - chirping and chittering amongst themselves as I awaited a grim fate." 'Survivor's testimonial of the Quadrant IV Expedition, WTA 598' Saurian culture is ill understood to this day, the only glimpses of the day-to-day life of the reptiles coming from traumatized survivors, expeditions and convoys that had been unlucky enough to intercede on the path of a Huitzigor hunting party. Those who encounter the Saurians usually do not live to tell the tale, though in rare occasions they have taken prisoners - escorting them through the deeps of the jungle for days until they finally arrive at their communes. Even rarer still is the return of said prisoners, deposited on well-known roads and paths; Battered, malnourished, but generally alive - and oddly enough, adorned with trinkets and fetishes, as if they were an honored guest. The most well known aspect of the reptiles' culture is their worship, which is centered around the Twins - The Sun, and the Moon. The Sun embodies the 'strength' and 'warmth' of the Saurian (the word sharing the same meanings), and is correlates to the birth or 'spawning' of the more aggressive forms common to the Saurian - Huitzigors, and their carnivorous, feral counterparts are those marked by The Sun. At midday, or Sun's Apex, is when the Saurian favor combat - marching out to hunt or defend, considering themselves blessed and imbued by the Sun's vigor, a fact which isn't far from the truth. The Sun's brother, The Moon, is viewed in a subservient position between the Twins, giving counsel to his brother's temper, and keeping watch over the world as it rests. Though less aggressive, The Moon embodies the intelligence and cunning of the numerically greater Quetzlings - aspects of an elusive predator and a patient hunter - One who masters themselves before the hunt. Rare as it may be, Huitzigors take to worshipping the Moon as well as the Sun - times when the brothers are both seen in the sky are considered to be favorable - the watch and protection of both their deities emboldening both Quetzling and Huitzigor alike. The social Hierarchy of the Saurian is simple, largely predetermined by birth, with the race divided into two social strata - Rulers and Followers. The Rulers of the lizardmen are beings quite simply 'born' into their position - a rare spawning, for instance, might produce a single viable egg out of dozens, the lone survivor baring distinctive markings and physical differences from their lesser kin. Whether it be a Quetzling or Huitzigor, those born from such spawnings are considered to be marked for greatness, and as they mature, the aptitude and position they take is quickly determined. Crested Quetzlings, for instance, can often produce a rare spawning marked by a comet across the night sky - a clutch of dozens being reduced to one, or even two to three eggs - the already distinctive leaders of their kindred being born as priests - treated with reverence at the very moment of their birth, and jealously guarded from outsiders, these Priests act as the leaders of the Saurian as a whole. In contrast, a Ruler among the aggressive, bestial Huitzigors will produce an individual who will distinctly take 'command' of the brothers he spawned alongside, growing in height, stature, and displaying an intellect far beyond that the average Huitzigor possesses. What determines the birth of ruling individuals is largely unknown, though some scholars suggest that it is an artificial process, rather than an arbitrary occurrence of nature - the Saurian have never seemed to want for leadership, and yet never possess too many rulers. Saurian economy is a simple matter of give-and-take - Quetzling artisans produce goods, such as masonry, weaponry, tablets for record-keeping - and in return, gain services and supplies needed to continue their work - continued protection, a guaranteed share of food from the hunters, and any materials or ingredients that a Saurian cohort might come across. Money is a new concept to Quetzlings, with gold coins pilfered from warm-blooded interlopers often being melted down into larger, engraved tablets - used to represent a debt that cannot be paid in full immediately, and as such, a sort of 'record' of the transaction, detailing the worth and requisites for its completion. Relations with the other sentient races inhabiting Taen are tenuous, the average encounter one might have with the reptiles would be from a distance - stalked by a Quetzling patrol as the individual in question skirts cold-blooded territory, or the unfortunate encounter with a hunting pack of Huitzigors and their feral kith. Given their language, a combination of clicks, whistles, and body language (depending on the species), communication with the Saurian has been next to impossible; Only the Mork'Outh have successfully engaged in conversation with Saurian, and even then, such conversation is terse and often hostile in nature. What has been shared from the Mork'Outh is largely transcribed here, the Lizardmen having a grudging acceptance for the natives' dominion over the realm - conflict has been incredibly rare, only represented by a mutual conflict of interests, as the Saurian are often stubborn in nature, and incredibly unyielding in their approach. Humans and other warm-bloods are viewed with a detached sort of curiosity - they are equally as intriguing as they are delicious, and the occasional happening upon a group of warm-bloods is usually taken with fervor - for either food, or to sate the curiosities of their Priest-rulers. The Mork'Outh attest that the only species that has met the full ire of the Saurian are the Xer'Orians themselves, the genocidal xenoforms often coming to blows with Saurian war-parties, fighting with a determination that is not seen in any other of their activites. Huitzigors battle the Innumerable Soldier-forms of the Xer'Orian, displaying a single-minded purpose to kill that rivals their enemies'. It has been known for a hunting party to divert at the first sign of a Xer'Orian incursion or raid, abandoning all but the most sacred of duties to counter the hated foe - fighting to the last in either victory or defeat. III. ORIGINS Since the worldrifts carried the first Xel'Orians to Taen, the Mork'Outh have said that the Saurians 'followed soon after', through another rift leading to another time, and the hostilities between the two races became readily apparent. Though the Xel'Orians are naturally xenocidal, the Saurus, displaying some level of basic intellect, had reacted to their presence as if they had encountered a hated foe - the intensity and vigor of their skirmishes implying some depth, a shared history of bloodshed, perhaps. Terran scholars have wondered if the appearance of the Saurians into Taen was a mere coincidence - as far as coincidences go in this dimensionally unstable realm - or if they were interlopers themselves, coming to seek the presence of the Hive and root it out. Whatever the case, they were clearly unsuccessful - The Xel'Orian presence in Taen is quite strong, and though the Saurians engage them at every possible turn, it is clear they are fighting a Pyrrhic war. Their actions are blind, impulsive - the Quetzling priests rule based on prophecy and prediction, but even they alone cannot direct the whole of the race into unity, further cementing the radical theory that the Saurians are not a race, but a weapon, fighting a war they already lost. IV. CODEX SHEET The Saurus The Saurus are an aloof, mysterious race of reptilian huamnoids who physiology and culture are defined and shaped by the cyclical states of Taen's celestial bodies. Though undeniably predatory in nature, the Saurus are largely disinterested in the lives of other races, testimonials of Saurus War-Hosts defending villages and towns from aggressors and invaders have made them a welcome, albeit feared, part of Taen. Physiology A Saurus' physical attributes are divined by the positions of the sun and moon and shaped by the otherworldly magics of the Wildlight. These shapes and sizes range from dimunitive, tiny lizard-folk to towering carnivores barely possessing sentience. Society Saurus society operates as a theocracy, where the governing conclave is comprised of the race's ruling priesthood. Central to their society is the reverence and worship of the Sun and Moon. The dichotomy of the race's biological makeup results in a caste system, wherein members of the Saurus are bred for a specific purpose. The most abundant of these beings are the Quetzlings; who do everything from ruling to farming. Hulking, musclebound killing machines known as Huitzigors are solely bred for war, though in times of peace they are known to take up other professions. Culture & Technology Saurus technology is primitive, yet effective. The signature of their settlements are their temple-cities, with their floating altars. Enhanced by magic, Huitzigor warriors typically wield heavy weapons forged from bronze. As a species, they are remarkably adept at astrology and astronomy. To call the Saurus aloof would be an understatement; they view the other prospective races of their newfound home with a general disinterest. Though a certain curiousity may overtake them from time to time. It is well documented of Saurus brutally slaughtering interlopers and invaders to their lands, and decidedly less known of their general acceptance and even protection of those who seek guidance through the territories they own. Territory Their territory comprises of both Quadrant I and Quadrant IV, though in the latter their numbers are more abundant. A preference for warmer climates means that the beasts rarely, if ever venture outside of these lands. Only during times of war will a Saurus be seen outside of their desert and jungle homes.
  10. 2 points

    Breath of Fresh Air [OOC]

    I'm so sorry that took so long. I'm still not really sleeping more than a couple hours at a time, and I'm not even sick anymore. I hate it Kill me *Oh, and Enid means 'Dam' as in mother cat, not a water dam. But that might not be clear in character anyway.
  11. 2 points

    A Breath of Fresh Air

    “I am..” the witch responded, approaching her soon-to-be companions with Halisera's map held in front of her nose, “or I was.” She lowered the scrap of paper and folded it neatly out of habit before tucking it into her coat pocket (as though it would be of any use after that point). Enid looked much the same as she had before; boots, breeches, coat and hat, all black as pitch but for a wreath of flowers blooming atop the wide brim of her cap. She carried a small travel bag slung over one shoulder, and though it didn't look full, she carried it as though it were at least somewhat heavy. “Dam,” she addressed Halisera, granting her the name casually, as though it were familiar. “Pillar..” she turned to Eli, meeting his eyes just briefly (what little of them she could see) before casting her gaze about, looking past the mouth of the cave and then back to where she'd come from. “Just the three of us?” she asked, turning the question to the matriarch as she pivoted on her heels to meet the woman face to face. The last time the seer had taken a contract with a noble of Ursa Madeum, they'd been accompanied by a convoy. (Not that she was inclined to rake up past dealings that were well and gladly behind her.) Halisera had mentioned that she preferred to apply a more delicate touch, and that often implied a more personal approach..
  12. 2 points

    Tavern of Legend Season 3

    @Greenmntman @DarkHorse @jaistlyn It took a while to bring the monster of a bear back to the tavern, and Aster was very glad she'd had the help of the two mercenaries and vampire in order to drag the beast back. Aster had explained on the way back that Vaddock had offered to skin the bear and make cloaks out of the fur for them, but she'd make sure he left the rest of the body mainly intact so Quinn could take it. "Excuse me? I don't think we can fit it through the doors, but we were successful Vaddock!" Aster said, peeking into the doorway of the tavern and waving. She saw plenty of unfamiliar faces, but the waitstaff were familiar at least. The faun's hooves shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, and she shouted out a quick, "We'll wait outside for you!" She headed outside to check on her companions, nervously glancing around the three others. They were all pretty banged up from the fight, and Aster was excited at the prospect of some rest.
  13. 2 points

    Back to Square One

    Post is up! @Venus Sprite is next. Hopefully Torie isn't too angry with being interrupted. ?
  14. 2 points
    Moon Owl

    The First Feast of Blades

    Amidst the crowds bustling with excitement for the upcoming opening ceremony, one white haired elf participant set out to traverse across the monumental bridge that stood to connect the Dawn Komturie to the rest of Predator’s Keep. Other than the strange glowing markings that cowered the majority of his skin, the slender and pale elf seemed fairly unremarkable compared to many others attendees that surrounded him. Larian did his best to not draw attention to himself, even though his appearance served to counteract his efforts. The structure was significant display of craftsmanship and architecture without a doubt, however the elf did not bask in the wondrous view that surrounded him as he walked. It was only when he approached two towering knights that his gaze was diverted from his destination and to their decorated and magnificent brass armor. He contemplated for a brief moment if his smaller frame would be able to house such hulking protection, but he would brush the subject away without giving it too much thought. It was not the time to distract himself with such thoughts and instead he would be wise to remain focused on the task at hand. For the elf had decided to enter the Feast of Blades for a singular purpose, one that should not be forgotten so easily. The anticipation for the ceremony was thing in the air surrounded the crowds. It was clear that many had traveled far to attend and surely expected a grand spectacle. Larian remained silent where he stood, patiently waiting and watching for the ceremony to commence.
  15. 1 point

    The First Feast of Blades

    It was a cloudy day in Predator's Keep. The psionic city was located within the wilds of Terrenus, a small state unto itself. Situated adjacent to it was the mighty citadel known as the Dawn Komturie, first and greatest of the Order of Force Majeure fortress bastions in Valucre. The grand land bridge that connected the Komturie to the outskirt walls of Predator's Keep was the hosting place for the starting ceremony. Mid-way through the bridge, the host of warriors, envoys, ambassadors and delegates were assembled at the front, with a mass of spectators behind. Flags of every nation belonging to Terrenus and the ANT coalition lined the spectacle, with a raised platform at the head, where two brass-clad soldiers stood, at least a head above everybody else in their hulking powered armor. Heraldry adorned their shoulders, hands resting on well-crafted battle axes and halberds as they stood sentinel under a flag emblazoned with the vigilant, searing gaze of the Force Majeure. Silver and iron armored Guardians flanked the crowd at intervals, keeping an eye out for trouble, and generally herding them along gently. if firmly. Behind the assemblage lay the fair city of Predator's Keep, rising above the Labyrinth forest that surrounded it, yet humble in its design as though it were natural for stone and steel to be cast among the forestry. In front of them lay the rest of the Komturie, the temporary residence and quarters for many ambassadors and participants, and above their heads plied airships, both mighty variants designed for war and lighter transport craft and couriers alike. The flagship of the Order of Force Majeure was here, docked at one of the booms of the Komturie that reached into the sky, the Imperator Bellum known to all by its distinctive reinforced prow and stories of its action into the Kadian Harrowing. The pavilion at the head of the assembly where the brass elites stood was empty for now, but it would not remain so much longer. It was time to get ready for a Feast of Blades.
  16. 1 point
    I’ve so far only seen two episodes of this on Netflix. So with that caveat in mind I can say I can see how it likely influenced a slew of anime that came after it, that the drawing / animation is fantastic, the composition and structure of their backdrops and symmetry they employ when showcasing characters is great, and that I think they’re very glib with how they’re handling exposition so far too
  17. 1 point
    Greetings ladies and gentlemen! My nickname is: Nesy. But I have a real name but yeah uh... I don't like to share my real name online.. Anyway! ? I'm from Sweden! ? I'm a semi-literate/literate person during roleplaying.. So there shouldn't be an issue with me roleplaying with literate roleplayers. So, I have loads of favourite roleplaying genres and stuff... Allow me the state what I like. ____________________________________________________________________________ Fantasy Sci-fi Mystery Mythical Greek Modern Romance Fun Sci-fantasy etc.. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- However, I'm genre flexible anyway so I'm mostly fine with anything. I like fantasy races such as: Devils,Demons,Angels,Godesses,Elves,Pixies and all that.. Fantasy races are always allowed too for my standards as I'm flexible and fine with that. I do have some good grammar and some okay-level spelling. May sometimes mispell words.. However it's not a big issue as that uncommoningly happens. I do not have an OC yet, but I'd love to roleplay with anyone to be honest.. I don't roleplay as a female as I suck at doing so.. But I'm a male roleplayer anyway. I prefer 1x1 roleplaying and group roleplaying. I really really love to do some roleplaying with anyone and we can always brainstorm.. Hope we meet in our PMS to get to know eachother more ?
  18. 1 point

    I'm so sorry I haven't been on!

    I just moved with my family and haven't remembered enough to check my messages and such. If anyone who was writing with me sees this please message me if you were still interested in continuing the stories.
  19. 1 point
    Hello ladies and gentlemen! My name is (cannot tell in real life) but I can tell my nickname! Nesy. Alright friends. So I am very new to Valucre.. I was wondering if anyone could roleplay with me.. Doesn't matter if it's 1x1 or a large group. I'm flexible with everything. I'd love to use my new alien OC.. So if there's anyone interested please message this topic... Nesy has newly arrived to this planet and he's very new. He does not know everything or non anything. So please feel free to teach my OC about this wonderful world! Thank you very much! ? I'm just a very bored lad.. ;( Looking anything spicy yknow. Anyone may satisfy me. My OC:
  20. 1 point
    Uh excuse me. Its a feast of blades. Not socks. Gawd.
  21. 1 point
    Die Shize

    [Skarr Clan] Mouths to Feed OOC

    Posting tonight since I can’t tomorrow
  22. 1 point
    Will this be an ongoing thing or will this just be an one thing thing? If I would play a new character then the location does not really play a major difference. However depending on the situation, Larian is attending the Feast of Blades so I guess that could be convenient. However only if it makes sense, don't need to involve him if it really doesn't make much sense. This sounds interesting and I would like to learn more about it! Basically just looking to get into some roleplays right now.
  23. 1 point

    Awesome chat outreach!

    Awesome chat outreach!
  24. 1 point
    I'll update my post. Don't start writing Luke!
  25. 1 point

    Ursa Madeum OOC

    Very nice!
  26. 1 point
    On the question of ho best to stabilize Auranite, Cadmium opened his mouth to speak. Fully prepared to interrupt the lesser-ranked officer and speak his mind, as the weight of his station dictated, his interruption was in turn interrupted when Delistair continued, unperturbed. He hit on the notion of using nth to conduct energy away, rather than towards. At this revelation Cadmium's mouth remained open, in fact went downright slack. His eyes glazed over with the distant film of a man quietly underground an internal epiphany. This practical application was of the sort which seemed obvious in hindsight, so much so it was hardly worth even mentioning, but which had eluded Cadmium the entirety of his waking life. "That's a definitely thought. We can try swapping auranite out with solabernite. Less energy density. So that means smaller spell stacks, lower peaks, but much more stable. Using auranite with nth though . . . uru is a pretty classic standby. We can pipe the excess into an uru heat sink and place that somewhere around the wearer's center of gravity. It'll definitely be heavier, but the nth can offset that some. I mean . . . yeah? I think it'll –" A tentative tattoo rapped on the lab's door wrenched his attention; Cadmium looked towards the door surprised, then the surprise smoothed away when Delistair explained it was the simple and inevitable result of a little forethought. "Good thinking. We can lab both of the solutions out. I, well," Here Cadmium smiled a smile as sly as an aristocrat's laughter and thumbed his nose. "I have something of a higher cap on my discretionary spending than I used to." When Del returned with the samples Cadmium rolled his sleeves up to the middle of his forearms, then reached out to the array of meta-materials and took hold of a hunk of uru ore. Cad's brow furrows with a sudden outpouring of concentration – uru is as famous for its intractability as for its capacity to store energy, and Del can see a sheen of sweat forming across Cadmium's forehead as the ore levitate from his outstretched hand and begins to alter in shape. Minutely, but steadily. "Now I'm thinking instead of a sink, a mesh would work better. It'll take work to pull this stuff into wires like that but the weight will be more evenly distributed."
  27. 1 point
    Where I come from you ask them to specify. ?‍♂️
  28. 1 point
    I think he means what if they don’t, can there be a default type assumed I think
  29. 1 point
    Hello! I'm interested in as well! My oc is from an other universe from an other distant world as well! Do you wish to roleplay with me? I'll send you one right away! I'm open! For everything. pst: Join me if you like to! https://www.valucre.com/topic/43211-it-came-from-the-multiverse-alien-encounter/?tab=comments#comment-779956
  30. 1 point
    The spider silk surrounding and forming the node yields readily to Will's persistence. Inside of it is a desiccated body, a corpse drained of its fluids. Among its personal effects are: basic robes a rod with a button on one end of it a note on yellow parchment and a potion with a spider emblem inked on the cork stopper @ticklefarte if you want to update your post taking an action with any of these (hiding them before telling Luke, reading the note, etc etc) let me know and we can wait, otherwise just confirm you're fine passing the torch to luke
  31. 1 point
    In the context of this competition, if a character enters the arena armed with "a sword," what type of sword should we assume said character is armed with? I am of the opinion that we need a level of specificity beyond "a sword" to determine the qualities of weapons and attacks that rely on them. Can characters switch weapons/armor between bouts? Is this an elimination-style tournament or one of those tiered events where people move between brackets based on wins and losses?
  32. 1 point
    Darling König

    [Silver Harbor] Iron Queen

    Reinhardt would pull alongside the Iron Maiden, he could hear the clash of steel on steel and screams of the crewmen. He was grateful whoever had shot him had made sure their shot was strong enough to go through him completely. His Vampiric regeneration had sealed his wounds and he leapt aboard the vessel. He saw the bedlam around him. The Fisherman were battling with Roht to gain a foothold while Tana danced a Steel laced Waltz. He smiled as he drew out his Steampowered pistol and angled it towards the Secretive woman. He pulled the trigger twice and killed two cutthroats that sought to flank her. He drew his blade yelling, "Fear not Comrade Roht! I have arrived!" He rushed into the fray slashing and firing his pistol off as he aimed to mitigate the loss of Civilian lives.
  33. 1 point
    Might finally get back to posting now that King isn't here to distract me.
  34. 1 point

    Searching for my first Valucre RP

    Your character is from another world? My my, so's mine! Name's Sanonymous, synonymous with anonymous. A pleasure to make your acquaintance ? I have an organization I am vying to slowly gain reputation and canon-recognition. It's still young, probably'll take a few months to years 'till it gains somewhat traction, but it's founder OS-01 is a human male who came from the vortex at the center of Valucre. He's an immortal, having lived many lives so I'm sure he'd be... "interested" in meeting your character and discussing on how he has arrived. If he does not comply.... Perhaps your character would like to meet my FSTFs, found in the Resources and Assets in my signature, even if they're not as... Gentle, as if he was to come willingly ? Do look forward to hearing from you soon!
  35. 1 point
    Venus Sprite

    Back to Square One

    Nah. Her anger is hot and over fast!
  36. 1 point

    New Beginnings (TW)

    Ren was unsure how to react to such generosity. Of course he was grateful for the Empresses efforts, only an ingrate of the highest order wouldn't be, but no one had ever gone to such lengths for him or his school. Naturally he was aware of potential political maneuvering on her part. War was a distinct possibility in the Empires future, and having powerful warriors on her side would be a boon. Though technically sworn to neutrality in such matters, Tiandi Wushu would not be able to stand idly by if Port Kyros was invaded. Furthermore, their policy of teaching any who wish to learn meant it was possible that he might train members of the Hyperion military. But even taking such things into consideration, the service she was providing for the school and his students was invaluable. He had expected to live in semi-transience for at least a few months while they got back on their feet. That his students would know a bit of material comfort after the hardship they endured during their travels warmed his heart. The Shangdi bowed his head, extending both hands clenched in front of him, "Your kindness is greatly appreciated Your Highness." When he and his students were later left alone, he would turn to his students. "I suppose we shall regroup for mealtime. Remember that though we have been shown great kindness, we are guests here," A small smile crept over his features, "But do enjoy yourselves. You've earned it." Bowing slightly to Trey and Kotori, he then had his attendant show him to his room.
  37. 1 point
    Abraxis could IMMEDIATELY sense what Xylex was trying to do!!! A strange glow of Red, Purple and Blue quickly began to envelop her entire body, as the things in the room began to suddenly levitate. Her Telepathic thoughts was to suddenly broadcast outwards in a loud echo: "Do you people think that I'm FUCKING STUPID??? STOP trying to invade my MIND!!!" She immediately stood up, glowing and had a sadistic look on her face. She quickly snapped her head towards benaires, grabbing him by the throat, picking him up with intent on snapping his very neck!!! Her left hand then pointed into Xylex's direction, as the dust he was trying to use began exiting from her very body with such EASE!! This young girl wasn't falling for any kind of under-handed trickery!!! Ben's eyes flashed that golden hue again; indication of Dark Terror now automatically activating!!!! Graymite bolted into the mini-library and slid still in awe: yet ANOTHER ability that was not listed in her report over the years!! Ben did not bother to speak; he was being man-handled by the same person he had trained NOT to keep doing this so that she COULD get better!!! Graymite then yelled out to her, "LADY ABRAXXXIIISSS!!!!!!?" O_O Everything suddenly stopped!! She dropped ben to the floor like a bag of Potatoes, now coming back to herself. The Holy Tomes tumbled back to the very floor, still being strewn about in various places from their normal places on the shelves that were built just for them. Lady Argon then ran in to investigate the mess. Ben wasn't choking; he had a high tolerance to pain and his air way being cut off; he just shook his head and began to stand up to help clean up the mess that was made in just seconds. Argon began to walk over to Abraxis, along with Graymite to give her more comfort. Ben then turned to Xylex, shaking his head, "You can't DO THAT either M'Lord. She's not stupid Xylex! Why not try an indirect approach such a CONVERSATION? Always works for the lot of us....you've got much to learn about this one!!!" Graymite then cleared his throat, trying to make light of the event that just took place, "Well, looks like you're displaying yet ANOTHER ability that wasn't originally listed in your reports from the Asylum M'lady. That is fantastic!! i'll have to name it someday for you. Let's have something to drink while Xylex tries to speak about what's going on inside of your head then, shall we?" Graymite asked, never taking his smile away from his Charge Abraxis. She nodded in agreement, now calming herself down in such a manner that Xyelex would not need to try anything else but polite conversation to begin the proper diagnosis. "I do not like people trying to tamper with my body, no matter how slick that one thinks he/she is being, my body can detect foreign invaders." "A rookie mistake again huh Benny?" asked Dr. Fowler, who now brought in a huge, silver platter of delicious-smelling viddles and treats for everyone. "Xylex, you can't try those type of maneuvers with Abraxis; we all have tried the exact same thing and she stops us cold. Why don't you just try having a conversation with her sometimes; it may SOUND kind of cryptic, but it IS an ice breaker you know. Here, eat up everyone. I"ve got Roasted Strawberries for Benny, Fish, Steak, Chicken Breasts, Watermelon Slices, Beef Kabobs for the Meat-eaters, Veggie Kabobs for the Vegans, Uhm Orange Slices, Bird Seed for Lady Avixis when she gets here, Fresh Portabella Mushrooms that were Roasted in Grape Seed Oil and Garlic, Turkey Breast slices that are rolled with Cheese and fresh Mint Leaves, Rolled Mint Leaves with crushed Garlic and Veal Slices. Dig in while I go and make the Second course for you all, okay? Ben, don't leave this room like this please...…" Argon then poured herself a nice glass of Ambrosia, now talking out-loud to Xylex, "It was a Rookie Mistake so don't do that again alright? The last time someone tried something like that Abraxis forced all of the Oxygen out that person's lungs; almost killed them in fact."
  38. 1 point
    Xylex was a little worried actually. The first thing he would have done were most likely physiological tests to test for brain damage, but since he had to be gentle he couldn’t really touch or at least touch her with her knowing. Luckily Xylex had the perfect tool for that. Xylex suddenly sneezed into his arm, seemingly cause his nose was Irritated, but in reality to cover a dispersion of his metal as a dust so fine it couldn’t be seen. It then entered the patients body flowing around allowing Xylex to sense what was inside of them. “Oh sorry about that must have been dust or something.” Xylex faces Abraxis with a heartwarming smile to ease her suspicions. “Don’t worry I’m here to make sure you’re at the top of your game. I’d just like to know what happened so I can better understand your condition. Don’t worry I’m not here to make your life worse.”
  39. 1 point

    Another raid OOC

    I’m confused about where everyone is now, mind if I draw a larger battle map somewhere today/tomorrow and everyone mark where you are? Prae’s anti magic arrows have a 4km radius which by my calculation envelops supe’s mage squad? I’m unsure where the arrows have landed and wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.
  40. 1 point

    The Low-Tide Festival! (Open Event!)

    By the time M'yr made his way to the tavern, the world was starting to grey out. He tied the bandages ever tighter around his wrists; both of them, and though they were new, they were already beginning to soak through. Crimson stains marred the thick bandages, which traveled up the length of his arms, stopping just before the elbow. Another wad of bandages sat in the front pockets of his cloak, ready to be swapped out when he found his way to a pure water supply, and hopefully some disinfectant. However, his wounds were deep and numerous. Whoever Puck had turned out to be, whatever he'd turned out to be, the knife fight had pushed M'yr to extreme limits. His body was unused to such scarring. Not even the ebbing waters of the sea could close the wounds up quickly enough to help stem the blood loss. Bright lights in the rain blurred, faces melted into wax puddles and people swirled into dark shapes as he staggered past them. They stopped looking even like that after a while, and now the wayward Acolyte wandered a dark expanse, colliding often with other figures in the darkness before him. He stumbled, tripped and fell more than once. His arms were freezing; his head hurt. He got back up, and tried to get back on his feet. No luck. His arms refused to hold him any longer, and M'yr laid, soaking on the pavement. People, if there were people, moved around him instead of stopping to help him. Nobody slowed or checked on him, so he tried to speak. But his tongue was heavy and alien; no words could be formed. Not that he had the oxygen for it, anyway, as he was, currently, beginning to black out. He struggled a bit more, trying to get back up, at least a little. The world was freezing; it was nigh-impossible to see anything now; the world was unstable, shimmering out of existence. By that point, M'yr had to give in to what he knew was inevitable. His wounds were too severe; he'd pushed himself too hard, and now, M'yr was about to die. He half-expected to cry about it, or get angry. Move through the motions of grief, as one might anticipate. However, in the death throes of his own short, mortal life, M'yr saw the potential to leave everything behind. The maddening visions of The Coiled Beast; the looming threat of the oceans. The terror of knowing how he might die and when; all of it was in the past now. M'yr could stop worrying; stop trying. He could lay here and die. The thought of being free, or at the very least relieved of this burden, sounded sweet to him. Beautiful, even. He closed his eyes, and, as all animals do, felt compelled to give one last noise before succumbing. He uttered a low, choking sob, and fell silent. Darkness engulfed him, but not the dark of the crypt. Instead, he felt as though he'd been plunged into the sea. Salt water bit into his wounds and rashes and scraped, eating away at his exposed flesh. The crushing pressure pushed down on him from all sides, the frigid temperatures chilling him to his soul. He could feel fire in his lungs as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the stuff. His eyes burned, his ears ached, and his ribs finally gave way to the pressure, which pushed in, forcing the water from his lungs, forcing him to exhale all at once. M'yr gasped for breath, standing in the warm, well-lit bar just off the side of the street, not terribly far from where he'd collapsed. He was soaking wet, but his clothes dried rapidly, to the point where a few moments afterward the sea was gone, and he was warm and dry again. The smell of salty food and greasy meat met his nostrils, not the scent of the sea or the streets, and although he'd thought he'd made a scene, he didn't have too much attention on him. Just the two folks at the bar then and there. That is, Slake was there. M'yr felt his fingertips ache, and looked down to see his bandages were still red and bloodied. He paused, and slowly unwound them a bit. His wounds were deep, but were scabbed over now. Tiny barnacles and bits of the sea lined the wounds, in start contrast to the pale horizontal scars across his forearms and wrists. He wiggled his fingers a bit. He still felt tired, ragged, but it didn't matter now. Before he approached the bar, he wanted to change into fresh bandages. The last thing he wanted was for Her to ask about the scars. He especially didn't want her thinking he needed her help.
  41. 1 point

    The Obsidian Crown

    Harsh Objectives There were truths to Lee’s thoughts, the girl that he once knew was no longer there… or well, at least the carefree semblance had long since passed. Alicia had diversified herself over the years, splintering herself into fragments… shades, memories that created their own personalities, their own goals and lives, true memories that when Alicia would eventually find herself whole again… she would learn them. Until that day, however, it was simply to not be. Whatever that girl on the beach had done, had participated in, and somehow ensnared Lee, this Alicia had no thoughts on the matter. No, Alicia saw Lee as a tool, a weapon that could be used, and a scary accurate one. A creature had shown up to her side, on her left flank was Lee and that blast went off and the creature shattered into sharded plasma that soon dispersed away, falling like uncared ink on pavement. A grin spread her lips, her pale-sheen glancing the moonlight off of her, and laughter bubbled away. A heave of the greatsword in her hands, nothing more crystallized aether forged into meteor, she slammed the tip down into the pavement and leaned on the pommel. Once her laughter ceased, she grinned. “Seven more? Nah… I am pretty sure I will die in the next two or three, but that isn’t something you need to worry about, okay?” She heard the boots on the pavement more than saw them, but she spun to the on-coming group of people. Her head hung back, and she looked to Lee then. “It seems my intel could be mistaken… or—“ Just as Alicia was about to get to the juicy bits of her life, her past, and well, the current enemy they were about to shove ten feet of fucking steel into… an eruption split their frames. Alicia’s feet fleeted away as the bile erupted around them, and the sinful void beings clawed their ways to the tops of the earth. Seven of them rose from the ground, their bodies covered in moss, thickets of branches curled as armor around their oozing flesh, and upon their heads sat cracked and severed crowns. A guttural cry escaped an unhinged jaw, and the first of the armored corrosions barreled its way toward Alicia. From the earth sprouted roots that coiled around its massive arm, the edges protruding and spikes gleamed as carbon razored into sharps sickles that exposed at the end. With a sweeping stroke the beast slammed its crescent blade toward Alicia’s shoulder, and she dodged just as swiftly as the attack came. Alicia never had a liking for poisonous, odious, and foul-breathed beasts… and especially disliked those created and earthened-bound as they were, as she liked to put it: tough, her blade stroke backwards and rode the sickled crescent to the root; son of a, her massive blade tore through the barked armor just as easy as it had been made; bitches! She heaved with the rest of her body, lifting her foot off the ground and the weapon shaved away the beast’s shoulder to the ankle, sending defilement and gaseous odours over her thin cloak, burning at armor that didn’t give. A panted breath found its way from her lips, and she cursed to herself. Damn it, I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. A screech turned her to the left, and she was shoved by another of the vicious beasts. This one lankier than its barreled body companion, and it loped with the grace of the shadows outside of the gates. Alicia pushed herself off the ground, and looked to the hobbled shadow, its eyes nearly ten-fold all blinked back, a smile an empty yawn into darkness, the creature hobbled closer with outstretched phantasmal arms that swayed and sliced through its fallen companion as if butter. An immediate thought came to Alicia in that moment, and she readied herself, poising her heavy blade in a horizontal frontward direction, breathing shaking her focus as her eyes gazed down the thin edging of her weapon. The lanking creature continued toward her, hieing faster and faster, its massive claws tearing into the earth as it bounded with animalistic ferocity. The air rent by the creature’s arms, and finally within a few paces, Alicia took a deep breath as the creature’s arms rose upward, reading for a staking strike to her position did she make her move. In an instant, the earth was crushed at her place but Alicia was nowhere to be found, instead she turned her body to the left, tresses of black shaved as she turned her blade upward, driving forward and slamming it home. The weapon rent blackness apart, slamming to the hilt as the creature let out a defeated and gurgled yelp of pain. Alicia would love to say she got out of the beast’s slumping form unscathed, but the weight shouldered her to a knee, and the blackened thorn beast finally fell to the side. Panted breaths passing her lips as she struggled to a stand, white knuckled fists clenching the hilt of her weapon as she used it to force her feet firm into the earth and look upward as another pile of blackened ash began to circle and form. A hiss of pain left Alicia as she looked for Lee in all of this, hoping he was not too busy with dealing with his own battles, and she hefted the weapon upward, waiting for the next battle to come. Seven battles… Seven… battles. I can do this. The veiling shadows began to harden, forming into a towering and sickening pit as the smell of charnel permeated the area, the opened grounds of Last Chance’s inner city began to spiderweb, rockened sludge bursting through the cobblestones a moment later. Alicia let out an exhausted scream and launched herself toward the gathering mass. A whistling sound caught her attention just before she collided into the frothing earth, and she kicked backwards and ducked. Aether exploded around her as white hot earth sizzled with light. Arrows of light pummeled into the ground, each one sending out pulse-waves in every direction. Frothing black screamed and hissed and fell into despair. Alicia sought out Lee once more, this time making movement to his side, but found herself standing with a blade two inches from her throat. A man stood in her way, a coat of blue riding off his back as his eyes spoke of grey steel. She heard him mumble something but could not quite make it out, her teeth grit as she forced the world to focus. Ears stiill ringing from the blasts only moment ago, she caught several more forms began to arrive. Their bodies all covered in the same blackened uniforms, capes of varying colour sitting off their bodies as they surrounded the two of them. “Drop your sword!” This time she did not mistake it, the sound felt like a command, running through her bones and sizzling its way up to her brain. The fire pulsed in her veins as she resisted every moment, her jaw clamped shut as the command came again. “I said DROP YOUR—” “Enough, Sarael!” Another voice, this one beloned to the man who had lovingly kept the point of his blade to her throat, whether he was a smart man or a dumb one. The itch to bring her weapon up and kill them all turned very tempting in that moment. To feel their guts splayed over her weapon, their bodies cleaved in twain, to feel their hot blood running over her body as… as… she screamed. “GET. OUT. OF. MY. HEAD!” Alicia snarled. The man’s blade whipped away from her neck and he was on the robed man in the back, whom she was guessing was Sarael. The bladed man stalked to him and growled, “Villainous or not, we do not kill those we need!” Alicia watched Sarael mumble something she could not hear, and she looked around for Lee. If she could just get to him and use her magic, they could be out of here in a moment… But gods, she felt herself tapped out. But the moment was gone as the bladed man made his way back over to her, this time he seemed more casual and less threatened by her. He offered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but the silver hair that curled over his forehead did little to conceal the tense features. He’s waiting for me to do something, she realized. Control yourself. A deep breath and she offered a smile, one that she always gave. “Ah, it is no worries! It never is! I would like to thank you, actually! You saved me and my comrade there!” She would make a pointed motion with her index finger to the four uniformed men all sporting navy coloured capes, she was guessing they were magia concealment by the way they carried no weapons except for a few relics on their wrists. Her eyes wandered over the others, counting nearly twenty three in total… She could not fight her way out of this if she tried. A sigh left her, “May I a—” “You may not, little spirit bitch. Who summoned you here?” A female voice spoke this time, belonging to a slender woman of the group. Dangling straits of red surrounded her skeletal features. Alicia noted the gauntlets she wore, they pulsed crimson and blue, and she was guessing aether control. The woman crossed her arms, stepping forward as she clearly boasted a bit of confidence to get so close to an enemy. “And what are you doing with Genesarian personnel? You think we did not run any checks the moment you two entered our sphere of influence?” “That’s enough, Rasp. I will take it from here,” the silver haired man said once more, he gave a warm but lying smile. “The name is Darion, and we need your help.”
  42. 1 point

    Battle of Forsthaven OOC

    70% done with mine! Planning on posting it tomorrow after work if I'm able.
  43. 1 point

    [GS] Ventus.

    Even in her withering state of being, even with as much as her power had been dwarfed prior to his arrival, it seemed that Ventus clearly still outclassed him by a large margin. Large enough to give him perhaps his first sense of dread in an years. Though he maintained his composure, he'd be lying to say he wasn't afraid. Though if there was one thing he'd learned, was that fear could be weaponized just like any other emotion in the spectrum. To rebuke one's fears serves only as detriment, but to embrace them provided a boon in more than one way. "!" As Ventus transitioned from building her impregnable wall to weaponizing her sword in a most curious manner, Koji's aura intensified. Despite Koji's plane of origin and it's terrible conditions including extreme colds in some parts of it, the Mugen-me made sure to reveal the essence of this cold as foreign, and likely something he'd built no prior tolerance against. Reason served that his aura could only confidently protect him to an extent. Of course, he'd be foolish to assume any less of a Deity. As he was consumed by her makeshift prison, Koji remained relatively still until he found his precise moment to escape with a moment before Ventus realized he'd done so. That and he was purposely timing his movement in order for it to serve a double purpose. Using the light cast immediately about his person with his protective aura, Koji manipulated the shadow upon himself. It consumed his form several times faster than his prison, swallowing him into the Plane of Shadows, and leaving nothing more than an after image in his wake; A bit of his Yoki to throw off sensory abilities as best he could, at least until he ultimately reappeared. The shadow of the ruined undead dragon unnaturally darkened and moved in comparison to the panic throws of its sundering. Ejecting from the Plane of Shadow and into the dragon's torso, Koji came upon the Exalta Prism. Shadow trailed him nearly instantaneously, in which he personally began to siphon the large crystal's energy while the shadows worked to completely seize it's entirety. By placing it in his Personal Dark, He'd only be supplying himself with another personal power source in addition to his current options against the Goddess and her trials. @Chappu
  44. 1 point
    Die Shize

    [Skarr Clan] Mouths to Feed OOC

    Realism is front seat in all ways appropriate. “Back seat” as in it takes thus when it comes to my priority focus on determining how RNG applies to the thread, realistic or not. Our words can sometimes come together and drift apart like those letters of wheat in a bowl of cereal with those tasty marshmallows. Honestly the requirement factor is what I needed clarification on so thank you. I couldn’t tell if we were saying that dice rolls needed to be implemented now. I totally get the uncertainty factor. I am new to RNG but I enjoyed how it helped dictate what would happen regarding Vito’s poison play and an immediate village surrender. It was satisfying to know that none of us were really making that decision, and I had fun rolling the dice, if admittedly I didn’t mind what the result was either way. That’s where it all makes a whole lot of sense to me. On the other hand, I shall indeed forego dice rolls for something like sword swings against NPCs, but that’s me. It’s a key point that I wasn’t understanding...till now!
  45. 1 point
    Priscilla tucked the box away under her arm, her free hand loose at her side, giving Aaric her attention. His enthusiasm almost mirrored her own, and she picked up on that quickly. Next to her, Torie looked most uninterested, at least for a bit. Well, that was news! Priscilla stared at the little rock Aaric was holding, peering closely at it. There was no mistaking that sheen; it was a solid splinter of unrefined mithril. For a few seconds, her heart rate quickened; her eyes might even have dilated for a spell. There was this small, fragment of a possibility that her ship might finally have come in. If there was a large enough vein of the stuff, Priscilla could easily have the funds to commission her new equipment. In fact, it could easily be more than enough, depending on how rich the vein was, and how the market price was. He passed it along to Torie, and she puzzled over the vein again. Mithril would take time to mine, of course, but if they could pull it all out, refine it and get it where it was wanted, that was money--a lot of money--in the bank. But first, they'd need to clear this mine out, and that was another story. She glanced over the log for a short while, while Aaric fiddled with the lock. She flipped through the log slowly, examining it for any notes of interest; fault lines, pitfalls, cave-ins and accidents, to name a few. The runesmith figured if they could find something to use to their benefit, they could speed their work up down here even a bit would be ideal. The elevator they build to take them further down was built in a weird position. Blasting the shaft out with explosives had done some serious damage to the walls and roof in some places. In one particular place, where they eventually expanded to find the mithril, the floor had given away into the cavern holding the precious mineral. Hmmm... She tucked the log into her bag for now, and walked over to Aaric, watching as he continued to toy with the lock. It took him some time, but eventually when he popped it, Priscilla reached down to pluck a smooth red paper tube, with a long, waxy fuse. There were nearly a dozen of such sticks of dynamite here, and the warning cap on the bottom of them was a dull white. On the inside of the lid, a warning label printed there announced plainly that the sticker faded to white when the explosives were old and unstable. "Good thing I didn't drop the box from the top of the rafters onto the ground, huh?" She mused to nobody except herself. They were old, then. Too old to work? Maybe, she had no way of knowing yet. "These are pretty old, so I wouldn't carry them around with us when things get hairy." She put her stick back. "They might be useful, though."
  46. 1 point
  47. 1 point
    The feeling when you were about to put your finishing touches on your post and the entire day your job is on fire. -_-
  48. 1 point
    Moon Owl

    Larian D'har Cassar

    Name: Larian D'har Cassar Gender: Male Age: 120 Race: Elf Class: Warrior Alignment: True Natural Combat skills: Two-Handed Swords - Specialized (++) Long Swords - Profecient (+) Daggers - Profecient (+) Two-Handed Style - Profecient (+) Single-Weapon Style - Profecient (+) Occupation: Freelancer When asked about himself, Larian is hesitant to share much. However he tells that he is from humble origins and were raised in a farming village, however the identify of his true parents remained a mystery from both him and those who raised him. Whenever he asked his foster family they merely claimed that they happened found him in the outskirts of the small farming village by chance. When he was old enough, he left the village and those who had brought him up. Ever since then he explains that the road has been his home, never keeping to the same place for too long. When asked about the markings on his body, he merely shrugs his shoulders and tells that for as long as he can remember they have just been there. He simply does not know their origin and how they came to be on his body. However regardless of their origin, their powers has served to save him from a grim fate countless times during his travels. Runic markings The mysterious runic markings covering Larian's body grants him with enhanced speed and agility and also greatly reduces recovery times from injury. A simple cut can heal in a couple of minutes. While he cannot himself control these runes whatsoever, they seem to react and become active whenever adrenaline is produced.
  49. 1 point

    Cicero - 1920s Noir

    Image is in public domain This is a realistic setting, which means no magic, meta-materials, or fantasy races. This has no bearing on the realism of plot contrivances or the natures or reactions of characters. I am basing Cicero off Chicago. I want to take an alt. history slant, where we can reference Chicago's history but also do our own thing rather than follow history's drum beat. Cicero, Illinois has a history of organized crime dating back to the mid 1800s and was touched by various arms of the American mafia. The time period for this setting ranges from the 1920s to the mid-1930s and stories can place anywhere in this iconic decade-and-a-half. If you're unfamiliar with what this might look like, think Boardwalk Empire or even Chinatown. Some notable historical events which players can incorporate in their play are: 1920 - Prohibition is in full swing, making this the year that crime surges through the city. In addition to bootleg liquor and speakeasies, rackeetering increases in popularity and houses of prostitution "spread like wildfire" 1921 - The Thompson submachine gun / Tommy gun / "Chicago typewriter", becomes the weapon of choice for at least some of the city's mobster gangs (and there are several). 1923 - Al Capone establishes his headquarters in Lexington Hotel. 1929 - Eliot Ness returns to Chicago as a Prohibition agent under the Treasury Department and creates the "Untouchables" to try and stop the flow of illegal booze and bring down the Capone empire Common plots in this genre/time can include: Work for a gang, rising up through the ranks to gain power or starting off with power and struggling to keep it Start an illegal moonshine operation and speakeasy Work as a police officer, either one that gets caught up in a world of bribery and illegal activities, or one that fights back against it at the risk of everything they have Be a private detective who takes a case and finds themselves in over their heads Literary elements for noir often focus on: the anti-hero protagonist and the femme fatale Technology 1913 - Radio. By the '20s there are radio stations with shows and advertising 1913 - Refrigerator. '23 saw Frigidaire introduce the first self-contained unit 1921 - Drive-in restaurants and in '22 convertible cars. in '23 traffic signals 1925 - Television. '28 saw the first experimental broadcast in the US 1927 - Jukebox and democratized music Firearms include: the Tommy gun, shotguns, and semi-automatic pistols Attire
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