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Showing content with the highest reputation on 09/12/2019 in all areas

  1. 3 points
    Fierach

    The First Feast of Blades

    From the other end of the bridge, from the direction of the Komturie, a party of individuals approached. Clad differently from the patrolling Guardians and the two silent Greatswords, this group was much more eccentric. There was a man who towered above the rest, clad in in burnished bronzed armor and bearing a sword that looked as though it could cleave through a battle tank standing to one of the sides. There was an individual who looked like a monk, flashes of steel, a scabbard, and cybernetic attachments peeking out from under his robes, the techno-Oriental theme in sharp contrast to his Caucasian visage, one eye covered by an eye-patch. On the other flank stood a young woman, blonde locks peeking out from under her cowl, the rest of her sharply dressed in a uniform-like habit. Silvered braces adorned her wrists, and while she was otherwise unarmed, her pose suggested that she was very much confident regardless. Flanking her was another young man, hair a dirty blonde, the very much the image of a proud, veteran Knight in shining armor. He carried an axe and a shield across his back, and if the other Knights were a presence, he was almost luminous. They were representative of the true power of the organization, Knights of the Order of Force Majeure, beings of unparalleled martial skill combined with powerful abilities and magic, and tempered with discipline and learning... and then there was the man who led them at the forefront. James Eredas. The Daemonslayer was of modest height, standing at just six feet tall, but he radiated power and presence like none other. He was younger than one might have been expected for a leader of a Knightly Order at thirty years of age, and his features displayed the contrast brilliantly, with hard eyes framed by black hair on a handsome face. He possessed the look of a gentleman of Orient ancestry, with scars on high cheek bones, hidden by harsh shadow. The Master Knight’s armor was the midnight sea, inlaid with the bone of monsters and gilded with crimson silk in a manner that evoked fresh blood. Artificer-wrought steel melded with carved chitin, and bore the signs of frequent use and repair; this was no parade garb. His right hand laid naturally on the hilt of the blade at his side with a tome chained in iron laid resting on the other. A beast snarled outwards from his waist, emblazoned on a belt that wouldn't have been out of place on a barbarian lord of old, and underneath his left arm he carried a winged helm whose decor was extravagantly long, enough to mark him cleanly as the most important target on any field of battle. A calculated risk taken by one with either incredible confidence or ego. As the party reached the platform, the Daemonslayer ascended to the podium so he was visible to all now. A low whine was briefly heard as he tested the communicator left for him, and he spoke into it clearly and deeply. “Good day to all of you. I am James Eredas, and I will be your host,” he introduced himself without preamble, without title, his voice carrying far. "The Order of Force Majeure bids you all welcome to our bastion. You are all friends here, even if you will become earnest rivals within the day. The Contest of Blades is an honored tradition within the Custodes of the Force Majeure, a contest of skill and martial prowess. Our initiates travel into the Labyrinth Forest to survive by any means against the wild beasts and dangers present, and face off against each other for the right to bear a honed blade and become one more sword in the wall of our martial tradition.” At least, it was so on Valucre. In other realms, Custode initiates undertook somewhat different rites and trials of position, but they all still possessed the same significant dueling element. James would carry on. “With the allied nations of Terrenus and beyond, I am proud to extend our traditions to you all with the first Feast of Blades. A contest of chosen champions and hard-luck prize-fighters. Fought between those who espouse honor, or fame or for simply the fight itself." James pointed out at the crowds, his voice beginning to build up louder. "To live is to struggle. We are all bound by that fact. Some of us struggle more, some of us less. Some of us struggle for ourselves, some for others, their nation or their home. In that endeavor we find meaning, in the clash of steel and wills there is a camaraderie and passion seldom found elsewhere. It is in that conflict that often tests our character and brings us together. We are tested!" He paused, looking out at the assemblage. "We are tested" he repeated with a finality. Now his gaze hammered through all of the crowd, but the assembled fighters especially. The gaze challenged them, goaded them, from one warrior to another. "Show the world where you break".
  2. 3 points
    Ira had wandered the castle, exploring the ins and outs of the residence for over a day and a half. He had grown restless, partially due to a growing lack of things to do, but also to a real worry about Quinn. Despite the vampires insistence that she was needing sleep and relaxation to get better, nobody was in bed this long without being very sick. His body might have been still considered in rough shape by others, still bearing the trademark aches and pains of recent battle, but they had at least mostly faded. Ira knew that two days was more than enough time to heal bruised ribs an minor cuts when he had done nothing more strenuous than walking. The castle grounds were enormous, and he must have seen all of it by now. Now he had only needed to find Alistair. Prick bastard had been clearly dodging him. Ira wanted his arms and armor back, and if he was going to forced to be here, he wanted to make himself useful.
  3. 3 points
    DarkHorse

    Tavern of Legend Season 3

    Quin snorted at him, though she “helped” Ira and Aiden move it. She could have done it by herself......humans. Her curiosity was peaked when he started haphazardly skinning the bear. All the while babbling on about humans and food and not wanting to see her again..... ouch. That hurt. “It’s not likely I’ll help you kill my Sire.” She said, “I didn’t let you on lantern way and I won’t now.” But despite his Aiden level of grumbling, he was getting her the bear as he’d promised. He really just had to explain the bear was payment for the help - but of course he wouldn’t do that. Again she thought......humans. “Don’t worry yourself over me.” She said, lifting the creature effortlessly. She would catch his attention before he went into the tavern. “By the way Ira.....” her voice a low purr, telling him something only he would understand “Her name is Lyra.” As mysteriously as she’d appeared, Quin vanished into the night. Darkness wrapping around her like a welcoming cloak. She was gone.
  4. 2 points
    Aelene Hasleim An elven woman turned around at the sound of the door opening. She hopped off the counter, a soft thud echoing off the floor from her leather boots. Clad entirely in black with a broad-shouldered mantle, one might’ve assumed that she was a military commander. She raised her eyebrow and put a hand on her hip. “I see that we’ve both chosen to dress formally,” she grinned, extending her hand to shake that of the newcomer. “Aelene Hasleim, owner of The Courier.” Whilst a mission like this was likely to have attracted a predominantly violent folk, she would prove to be quite the contrary. “The gangs have been killing the business in Blairville for months, and its only gotten worse recently. I don’t suppose you know what to do with any of this, do you?” She gestured to a row of items laid out on the counter. Among them was what appeared to be a tube of blood, several access cards, two distinctly different keys, and several other items that she couldn’t seem to make sense of. @danzilla3
  5. 2 points
    Though the payment on offer was no doubt generous, it was irrelevant as far as Noah was concerned. Money was something that he could get at anytime. He could hack into just about any financial institution in the world and have a practically infinite amount of cash for a few hours of work. If he didn't wish to stir up trouble with the law, he could write predictive algorithms that would allow him to exploit market trends for his own gain. Or if he cared nothing for collateral damage he could storm in to any bank he wished and take what he liked. No, he wasn't doing this for money. Experience. That was what he wanted. In nearly a thousand years of existence, he had accrued a great wealth of experiences; but in a surprisingly narrow field. He had taken advantage of his seeming immortality to gain a great deal of knowledge and skills. The result was scores of degrees from universities all over the world; some of which no longer existed. But in dedicating his life to the pursuit of knowledge, he felt he had neglected something fundamental in what it meant to be human. If he was to truly surpass humanity as he claimed, he needed to experience more of what it meant to be human. Arriving at the bar at the appointed time, he was today wearing the appearance of a young man in a well tailored suit. He pushed open the doors and walked up to the counter. "I'm here for the job."
  6. 2 points
    @Fierach just curious, for background - would James's wounds have been tended to by the White Hand after he mapped the depths? If so, it would likely have been Volentia! @Twitterpated Would Jin be around at the Feast?
  7. 2 points
    Double elimination. But only because it means getting to shake more hands. Win or lose, I'm happy to help learn the inexperienced.
  8. 2 points
    Die Shize

    [Skarr Clan] Mouths to Feed

    OOC Music The Black Captain Little gray shapes crept forward across thousands and thousands of blades of green grass. They moved separately from one another yet as one all the same, edging ever closer to their destination. Ten. Fifty. One hundred. Two hundred bugs creeping toward a boot that begged to stomp them into the dirt. Veron wasn’t wearing it. For his part, as his naked eye watched the Brave Spears march forth, his plans for them appeared to be a tad different than his counterpart’s. Khrol stood beside Veron’s Blade, the horse only magnifying the Shkei’s height beside the Grey Seer. Skysplitter was peering through the spyglass with untold musings and machinations funneling into his maddened mind. It escaped him through his tongue as orders were barked out. Veron took his spyglass back and listened as Khrol addressed the troops. Two things made Veron smile then. The first was a Rat who cast his axe too soon, earning him a front row seat. The second was the clever tactic that the Skaven’s commander had given them. Not bad, for a creature confined to a cave. I wonder, has our Grey Seer personally commanded soldiers before? Against the Fae, perhaps? Of course, the trick hadn’t paid off upon springing it. The missile fell short of the enemy mercenaries. Veron had watched while listening to the awkward and ugly sounds the trebuchet made as it was denied its full swing on the battlefield, much like a man being denied his climax in bed. Yet fair play to Khrol for thinking to target the sellswords coming their way, and measured pride to the Rats who tried to fulfill their spiteful master’s demand. Any dwarf would build a machine with the ability to adjust it, and this war machine was no different. If any of them would have relied upon the assistance of the trebuchet’s true master, Galrim Ironbreaker, then he might have went through the motions to catapult the enemy with better results. Except not. For I am the master’s master, and I say no. “Cease that order!” Veron looked from the trebuchet crew to Khrol as he sought to remind his compatriot of the strategy. He caught Maul’s gaze at a glance, the dwarf always ready to act if needed, though hopefully he wouldn’t have to. “I have just signaled for my officers to storm the village. Best if they don’t burn alive while fighting for our banners.” He smiled. “Fear not, Skysplitter. If you want blood then I shall hand it to you by the goblet. If you want to watch a village burn then I shall hand you the match.” Veron’s gaze drifted back over toward the Brave Spears, beyond them and upon Kinsmeet. “After we drain this village of every last drop it has to offer us.” OOC Music The Mountain That Rides Blood was a warm trail where he had ridden. Red juice served as the carpet beneath his hooves. He marched with more than four. Behind those of his great yak’s were those that belonged to twenty-two horses. Their saddles were snug with hobgoblins, each one carrying shield and spear, sword and bow, plate and helm. Beside him was a gnoll. Rattleneck sat on her snow bear that almost leveled with his own steed. She held her battleaxe beside the white fur of her beast, chewing on a bone she had plucked from a farmer. Slayer had plucked his head. The red orc had been charged with leading the cavalry from Kinsmeet’s outlying farmlands and into the village itself, taking the northern road. It was a small force but Kroznog Lagoth was a big person. Between Dinner and his rider, both orc and yak were worth two, no, three horses and the soldiers upon them. He had proven that in the farms he had since passed through, silencing their residents to keep quiet the covert approach to Kinsmeet. There had even been enough time for a few distractions. A maggot farmer had lost his legs so that he might keep his hands to point at where he was hiding his gold. A pretty little thing had been working the fields before she had been worked over. When the children had started screaming, Slayer’s headache had too. He shut them up for good. No soul had seen the small strike force pass through and lived to tell about it. If they did then it would be too late. Except for maybe one. The little man had been leaving a farm and was already on the road. His wagon had sped up. There was alcohol in the back. That was known from the brewery on his land. Slayer had let him go. He wasn’t going to get very far. Even now, the great orc could see the fool, the wheels of his wagon bouncing across the road to reach the gate and tell his friends of the killers that came their way. Crush their skulls like that bitch and hack them apart and kill them dead! “Our captain looks our way, Slayer,” affirmed Rattleneck from her bear, spyglass held over the western road. “The banner is raised. We have our signal.” “Just in time.” Slayer curled fingers in to form a mighty fist. There were long strands of bloody blonde hair around his fingers where what little he had of his own was black. Screaming bitch! Kill her. Kill them all. Hate them. Cut them. Slay them. He plucked the strands and let them drift into the breeze. Before him, some ways down the road and beyond where the strike force was positioned at the flank of trees, was the same wagon as before. It bounded toward the northern gate of Kinsmeet and was halted there. No doubt, the villagers weren’t excited about letting anyone in right now. Good. “Egrak!” A hobgoblin strode forward on horseback as his master summoned him. “The village looks thirsty,” Slayer remarked. “Give them something to drink!” With that, the hobgoblin silently cantered forward, galloping down the road to get within range. Bow in hand, he arced it, pulled back the arrow, and let loose. As it flew, fire around the arrowhead flew with it and continued burning as the arrow thudded toward the wagon’s barrels of booze. They exploded. Horses, rider and gate went with them. “How good of Kinsmeet’s hosts to open the door! Let’s step through and kill them.” The cavalry took off. Slayer led them toward the ruined gate. Flames engulfed the entrance but that was no worry. Whipping his greatsword round and round his head, the great orc forced the fire back with gusts of beating wind, a power that would last just long enough to let twenty-four riders charge through the breach and into the village. Where they rode, sword and spear and axe lopped off head and cut across body. One great sword cut men in half. On the way to the western road, to bite the backs of Brave Spear scum, Slayer made sure that where he rode he left a bloody trail. OOC Music The Black Captain Veron licked his lips at what he saw through the lens of his spyglass. Two hundred sellswords, give or take a few or more, were at the halfway mark after time had graced their approach. Most on foot, some on horse, all at the same pace, spread apart but not too far. The delicacy on this dish was the man that Veron was looking at. He had a bushy orange beard that hung beneath his chin, a purple cloak that draped over his horse and a helmet with golden lining where the others around him had silver upon theirs. He was unmistakably the Captain of the Brave Spears. With a face I met minutes before and a face I will remember for hours later. “They’ll reach arrow range soon, Commander Skyspliter. Perhaps they are already in range of your sorcery. But see those spearheads that rest on orbs?” Veron offered the spyglass to Khrol if he wanted to see for himself. “A spear and a staff. Battlemages. They’ll contend with spells and will leap to respond to your own in turn. Even some of them without such weapons serve as spellswords. I say we wait.” Before Khrol could dig too deeply as to why, Veron pointed with a finger of confidence. “For them.” Plague Fire that crept onward to engulf the western road’s breach into Kinsmeet continued to eat, though its hunger was staved for as long as it took for a small cavalry unit to emerge from the flames and power toward the Brave Spears’ backs. Veron spotted Slayer at the head with his hobgoblins, though Rattleneck was not to be found. She was no doubt guarding the northern road to make sure that any villagers would have to dance with a bear if they tried to flee. It took moments more before one mercenary after the other caught onto the thundering hooves behind them, just as they reached potential range for Khrol’s missile troops to rain down. The enemy were responding to their new situation as expected. Fire blazed behind them. Even at this distance, they could hear a sudden symphony of screams coming from the village. At their backs rode a giant orc with a giant sword on a giant yak, with few enough horsemen to push the Brave Spears’ backs into the teeth and claws of their foes in front. All at once, their job, which was just that and nothing more, was beginning to look less than profitable. “This is where we can take their lives, Khrol!” Veron called from his courser. He searched for the Grey Seer’s countenance. The pieces were in place but the Black Captain was looking at the whole board. “Or we can take their services! Even pebbles make up a wall of rock! What say you!?” OOC Music The Lord of Kinsmeet Bells rang out but not for church. Iggo’s hands tightened around the railing of the balcony as his body froze in place. He might have leapt down to the streets if good senses were not a part of his makeup. Combat certainly was not, yet here it came—from all sides. Across the fountain, at the village hall, a guard was being ripped apart by some figure in black; some agent of death that sent a cold shiver up his spine. Stabbing and stabbing and stabbing. Lord Richmond’s head jerked aside just then toward the western road, where a group of riders were storming through flames and slashing out at his own villagers. They weren’t alone, not in their bloodshed. They were there, tearing through the short and narrow streets like the wind, and somewhere else something banged beneath the alarm bells. Iggo’s eyes were wide with horror as he peered past the village hall, beyond the market square and gazed upon the southern road. A great wagon of metal ripped across the cobblestones, rolling with spiked wheels glimpsed, skulls and bones and dead things chained and bolted to its steel skin. It had come crashing through the gate, propelled not by beast but by a chimney that trailed clouds of purple smoke in the wagon’s wake. The armored vehicle was not alone. Large wolves that snarled and howled were mounted with vicious-looking humanoids in crude armor and with cruel weapons. They darted about and around their center contraption to the point that their observer didn’t know where to count. His gaze was stolen just then by two other figures. A black rider on a great blue cat and a yellow rider on a camel. Amidst the riders and the wagon, they mimicked the cavalry that had come from the west. These butchers from the south delayed not in slaughtering passersby and especially any soul who dared to resist their coming.
  9. 2 points
    does double mean you lose twice before you're out? I'll definitely prefer that, if just to get a feel for what fighting is XD
  10. 2 points
    Asphodel

    Tavern of Legend Season 3

    @The Courier Aster wasn't quite sure how to respond to the comment about poaching. The faun stood awkwardly, and heaved a long sigh. She'd been fighting and traveling near-nonstop for over a day now, she didn't have the energy to deal with explaining the difference between a requested hunt and poaching. "If it were poached, we wouldn't have brought it back here." Aster said wearily, before heading outside with Vaddock to meet with her traveling companions. She could feel her energy dropping, and her ears drooped to exemplify this. @Greenmntman She smiled tiredly as she murmured a greeting to the two humans and vampire. She took the coin purse from Ira, glancing over at Quinn uncertainly; she could see the tension in Quinn's eyes. "Bye." Aster said, figuring she wouldn't get another chance to say so. She turned around and walked back in, heading towards whatever table was empty and had four seats. "Can I get some food and drink? Party of three, but I'll take an extra plate; it's been a long day." Aster called out, waving down the nearest of the waitstaff. "Something warm, please." She added, remembering Ira's request. The faun then laid her head on the table, and tried to stifle a yawn. There'd be plenty of time for licking wounds later, once food was gotten and- Oh jeez, what was Ira doing? He'd burst in and yelled about how a vampire had taken off with the bear. "But- oh, never mind." Aster started, and then thought better of it. If Ira wanted to lie about their deal with Quinn, she'd let him.
  11. 2 points
    DarkHorse

    Tavern of Legend Season 3

    Quin hovered outside the tavern, she disliked the whole being around people thing. Around this many people she would radiate a dangerous allure that could prove all too deadly to any that got just a little too close...... Pale skin, jet black hair, and silver eyes peeking into the cozy warmth. A feral growl escaped her when someone talked about cooking the bear. A fanged tooth gleamed in the dim light. No. No. She was told she could keep the bear for helping. This meant she’d have to say something. She merely wanted to take the creature and scamper off back to her cozy Chateau and Sire.....bear carcass included. Quin didn’t care if the bear had its fur, in fact it might help to have the pesky stuff gone so it wouldn’t rot away while she was ..... experimenting. The scent of blood hung in the air, so many mortals, so many fragile creatures. Quin shook her head, now was not the time to be hungry! Though she was beginning to be. She hissed at Ira and poked him. “Fix this now.” She demanded. @Asphodel @Greenmntman
  12. 2 points
    In over 300 years of living, this was perhaps the greatest challenge he'd ever faced. Prior to the progression of Quin's transformation to its later stages, he'd never considered how turning her would effect him. The occasional wave of phantom pains associated with more or less sharing a mind with the good Doctor. The more the transformation took, the more consistent their hive mind became. While enduring these random events throughout several hours, he still had the chateau to maintain; While still trying to more or less keep and actual eye on his room to be sure it remained undisturbed. Fortunately he'd been able to function without raising too much suspicion, though he paid himself mind to avoid direct contact with the likes of Martis, or even Ira. Several times had he wanted to enter his room to console her, to coddle her into her final sleep. Several times he denied himself and her by extension, the right. It was better for her to endure this venture alone, or at least seemingly so. Not that he knew that was best from experience outside of his own. The Master having played no part in assisting him until the transformation was complete. Perhaps it was some sort of right of passage. Survive this alone, survive with me for eternity. When the final sleep finally found her, the Majordomo sighed in relief despite not having the ability to actually breath. Adjusting his fine threads, the redhead suddenly made himself scarily available as he tread through the house; If only to take a gander at what the others around the house were up to. Regardless of his findings, Alistair had appropriately planned ahead for Quin's grand awakening. However, it suddenly became abundantly clear that she had found herself awake a couple hours earlier than he'd anticipated. That writhen grin found itself upon his face once more, his scarlet eyes darting to and fro rapidly as he maneuvered his way subtly back to his room. Ascending the awkward stairs beyond his door, the Elder found himself standing over Quin, whom had obviously taken to one of his shirts. His grin remained as he snickered, mostly to himself. His narrowed eyes settled on her, a gentle and unnecessary clearing of his throat came in the wake of their eyes making inevitable contact. "Good morning Doctor. After all you've been through, I trust you've slept well? I must admit, you woke up quite a bit sooner than I'd like to have guessed. Not that I'm complaining." @DarkHorse @Etched In Stone @HumanBean03 @Eternity @Greenmntman
  13. 1 point
    Welcome to the Feast of Blades. A biannual competition of athleticism, martial prowess, hosted this year by the Order of Force Majeure. Invitations are made for all the Terranus nations, and are also open to outside nations or entities on a by-request basis. The Feast of Blades is divided into three aspects, only one of which can be entered by each participant (this means one character can only enter one aspect). Please see rules and regulations below. The Feast will begin 9/9/2019. The Individual Event: Trueblade: Physical combat in its purest form, a contest of skill and strength between two combatants. Entrants: Knight Commander Marshal Gamesly, of House Uldwar, the Dogs of War (Player: @Infernal) Volentia, the Healer, of the Order of the White Hand (Player: @jaistlyn) Vadrian Dawnwood (Player: @Die Shize) Arthur Uskglass (Player: @Voldemort) Arthantos Thulmann (Player: @Damnatus) Mystery Entrant (Only if we don't get enough players) (Player: @Fierach) Tzak "The Ripper" Bishop (Player: @Twitterpated) Mōmoku Akuja Kenshi, "Senjō no Ōkami" (Player: @Etched In Stone) Caeceila Glasmann (Player: @The Alexandrian) Dauner Light (Player: @Dauner Light) --- CURRENT TRUEBLADE ROUND: 2 Stages and rounds will be up/begin by Nov 9. Round will last until Dec 7. === The Team Event: Swornblades: Trust in your allies, work together, overcome your trials and best your enemy, a contest of strategy and skill. Honor is won or lost as a whole. Entrants: Oathsworn Shirin Izora, of House Hildebrand (Player: @vielle) Kinaro (Player: @SteamWarden) Ravenbush, Force Majeure Knight Initiate (Player: @Thotification) --- === The Hunting Event: Wildblades: Seek your enemy, hunt your enemy, destroy your enemy, may the greatest hunters win. The greater the trophy, the greater the glory. Entrants: Lady Yanaihara Koharu, of Datsuzoku (Player: @vielle) Grugga, of the Misral Bugbears (Player: @Infernal) Raion Saikaku (Player: @The Rabbit Emperor) Nikolai, the Shield Warden (Player: @SteamWarden) Khakina Khatun (Player: @Thotification) Larian D'har Cassar (Player: @Moon Owl) Leoa Melisende (Player: @Aleksei) --- === Rules: Trueblade: Swornblade: Wildblade: The Entry Thread:
  14. 1 point
    supernal

    Young Justice 2010 [animated]

    Anyone watching or watched the third season?
  15. 1 point
    Die Shize

    Feedback - ooc purge

    I don't like this idea for the fact that Praetorian is STILL beating me on -rep. Otherwise I support this update.
  16. 1 point
    As the two thugs climbed into their newly claimed horse-drawn carriage Adime, sensitive to the growing unease they left behind which was certain to spillover without them there to contain it, reached into his bags of goodies. He pushed aside the money and the jewels, coming up instead with a trim handful of the chemicals he'd pilfered from the apothecary. These he shoved into his mouth and chewed on them. His tongue and gums fizzed from the acid; his teeth chipped from the minerals he ground to smaller particles; his esophagus shredded when he swallowed. And when it was done, he reached down for another handful. He had time only for one more alchemical hors d'oeuvres before a man made of himself a roadblock, and Gore tilted the speeding carriage away from a direct collision course with the swordsman. Within that narrow band of space-time, that slim berth which Gore cut for them with his defensive driving, that slender window of time during which cause and effect demanded a reaction to their action, Adime carried the action further – as the carriage tilted on two wheels and arced away from Sebastian, Adime braced himself against the cab's body and leaned forward. The cab's step, which customers used to haul themselves into the carriage, was now a ledge. On it perched the barrel of Adime's pistol. Over the pistol's hammer Adime's hand slammed down in triplicate, his trigger finger echoed the motion. And so three high-velocity projectiles leapt forward, crossing a distance only a few meters wide (if that) in an eager attempt to make a pinup of the sheriff, aimed at his upper left, his lower right, and his center mass, so that no single stroke of the sword could hope to deflect all three. Then the carriage settled onto four wheels and raced down the street; Adime was now bent over the back of it, staring down the direction they had just left but upside down, and took aim to deliver further attack as needed. "Got some company for you right here pal."
  17. 1 point
    I have a personal fondness for Adventure/Comedy/Horror. Preferrably all three wrapped in a neat package with a little bow.
  18. 1 point
    CelvestianNesy

    Tavern of Legend Season 3

    Well, as they did their buisness Nesy would just be casually sitting there and doing nothing. Altough he did feel a bit alone but of course with the barmaid spoken to he was pretty much happy with that he can finally be able to speak with someone in this world.. Altough he had spoken to many Celvestians nowdays and he pretty much didn't feel bad at all. But suddenly Nesy's attention was cought by the group over there and Nesy rose up from the chair and shut the hologram. "...What in the mother of Celvestia is going on there?" He began walking towards them and he asked.. @The Courier @Asphodel @Greenmntman @DarkHorse "..Excuse me?" Nesy called from behind the group that was talking about.. Some things? He was confused what this situation was about. But curiosity got the better of him.
  19. 1 point
    Done. Call me Mr. Kenjutsu. :U
  20. 1 point
    Auspicious Link

    A Fool's Errand

    Khada had been sitting behind his little crate for a few minutes by then, and was more than happy to wait a little longer. He wasn't dying today. Instead of thinking about what could have potentially been hiding in any of the nearby crates, the kobold instead distracted himself by listening to the rain hitting the roof of the storehouse, and the occasional crackling of thunder. The sounds weren’t as jarring inside as they were outside, and helped calm him some. In fact, he was almost calmed enough to convince himself that he was just being paranoid about the mysterious person in the building with him. Of course, Reis wasn’t that foolish. He knew what happened to those that let their guard down, even for a minute. He wasn’t about to end up with them. Still, despite Reis’s apparent resolve, the thoughts of busting open one of the crates lingered. No, he wasn’t about to crack one open - but the kobold had been considering examining the padlock of one when he heard a voice ring out. Reis froze. The voice was unmistakably female, and somewhere relatively close. Reis curled into a tight ball behind the crate, fearing for a moment that he had been seen. Judging by the woman’s tone, though, she hadn’t seen him yet. She had certainly seen or heard the lizard at some point, but it hadn’t been that recently. All she knew was that he was here, somewhere. She obviously wasn’t with the law (unless, of course, it was standard procedure around town to kill intruders without reading them their rights), and seemed fairly good at sneaking around. Reis hadn’t heard her until she’d gotten as close as she was, after all. So, maybe she wasn’t a novice. . . Whatever she was. Khada considered his options. If she was another looter, then perhaps they could work something out, thief-to-thief. If she was some sort of hired hand, that wouldn’t work out as well. If she really was law enforcement, then it was in his best interests to run. Reis was really hoping that she wasn’t some sort of crazy assassin. With all the insanity and magic in this world, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she wielded some sort of magic sword and could kill him with a single word. Then again, if she could do that, she would have found him already. The lizard waited a moment longer, then slowly crawled away from his hiding spot, careful not to make too much noise while doing so. In the darkness, he found one of the giant steel shelves that had originally held most of the crates he now saw on the floor, and began to climb. Once he was a good dozen feet off the ground, he rolled onto one of the tiers, sighing slightly. Whoever this was, he doubted that they could see him up here, in the darkness. Not to mention, he suspected that the woman was human. Even if they pinpointed his position, they’d have a hell of a time trying to get up to him the same way. It was pretty dark, after all. It was only then that Reis decided to speak. No matter who the person was, he felt that he was safely out of their reach, and could question them a little. If they were hostile, it would be simple for him to escape. He was a slippery kobold. Whoever was down there wasn’t. “Hmm. . . I think not. I somewhat value my life, you see.” Reis frowned at his high, somewhat raspy voice. He hated how it had changed since his transformation. It made it that much harder for him to be taken seriously. Still, it wasn’t as if he could do anything about it. “Might I ask, who are you? I was originally under the assumption that I was the only one who was foolish enough to come all the way out here.” Reis moved as he talked, climbing a little higher up the shelf. If he got her to talk, he’d be able to get a good idea of her position as well. “I was wrong, it would seem. Have I done something to offend you so? It isn’t often that I get death threats.” The lizard snickered. “Well, not nowadays, at least.”
  21. 1 point
    Can I be a midboss? I can wear a tengu mask. :U
  22. 1 point
    Feel free to skip me...I dont think I can post atm since I'm so far away from civilization ? apolgies for the delay...
  23. 1 point
    Abraxis only blinked in awe: just who WAS this idiot making threats to one such as Abraxis? Argon sighed out, shaking her head; Graymite only folded his arms in research; Ben just slapped his forehead in denial; why can't this guy just smooth things over a bit? Abraxis then picked up her writing utensil, now looking sad as it were. She began to write out a few things for Xylex to undertake; things that she could remember when her "Memory Skip" wasn't acting up. "You beings sure know how to make a girl feel comfortable. They have tried to kill me many times over back at the Asylum already. I can't remember much, but I was drowned, shot, stabbed and even poisoned with Sarin Gas. 24 Hours later, I'd take a huge breath and my body would be fully healed as if nothing ever happened. Do you always help people by threatening to kill them? I don't even know what death IS anymore. AS for my condition, even the researchers at the Asylum don't really know what's going on with me inside. I do not like letting people touch me, nor can only a chosen FEW get close to me. You have had your fair share of torturing and killing people and NOW you want to try to make amends? What's sleeping inside of YOU that WE all do NOT know about? What's that other voice trying to make YOU do things that you do not WANT TO? I'm sorry Master Benaires, but I do not like him; he has a forked tongue and judging from what he gives off, he should not even BE here. Come on Graymite, I'm sleepy and this is boring.....goodnite everyone....!!!" Graymite only nodded in agreement; he was her Conduit and she was his responsibility!!! Ben huffed out in disappointment, but did not say anything. Argon poured herself another glass of the alcohol, trying to make heads or tails just out of the reply Abraxis had made at Xylex. She seemed utterly confused to this point. "Do you always have to be SOOO judgmental dear cousin?" Said a soft and gentle voice from just beyond the Library door. She entered with a very long tee-shirt, a nice Choker with a Wolf emblem on it, and some Bird Seed in a Silver Platter, along with Avixis, Avus and even Rebecca!!! Abraxis stopped dead in her tracks!! it was the OTHER one who had the exact same PROBLEM that SHE did; only in that she had been completely cured of her mental damage!!! She stood about six feet and four inches and had Silver/purple hair that was very long for even her age of 17!! It was so-assumed that she was that old; Invectium were very difficult to determine for growth factors somehow. Abraxis stepped back in awe; THIS was the young girl that Ben had CURED of the exact same problem of Mental Damage!!! "You must be Xylex of the killing Farenhide Family. The Master SURE knows how to PICK them. Master, this one is not good for Abraxis…..he STINKS just because of the BODY Count!!!" Said Ptera Invectium. She put her left hand on her hip just staring at Benaires. Ben shook his head, then stood up fully. "Mind your tongue young lady!! I called for Lord Xylex because of his sheer wisdom. Now cut the crap and take a seat. Grab a Tome if you're going to try to find some answers or something. Got it?" ben replied defensively. She lowered her head, now whisking over to a couch to not say anything further, placing her hands into her lap, staying silent as ordered. She was red as beet from ben just scolding her in front of everyone!!! Rebeccas snickered quietly, while Argon was to step on her foot in protest. "Well, I AM a bit hungry; may as well grab some of this wonderful food then!!!' Shouted out Lady Avixis in excitement. She was trying to curb the awkward versions of conversation that had just turned into a big mess. Abraxis sat down, looking at the floor. How was she going to fix THIS? Graymite did not say anything; he KNEW what she was about to say to try to avert the situation back into diagnostics. Once again, her Telepathic Prowess would allow for her to broadcast so that everyone in the room could hear her clearly "Life is about choices. My mother gave me NO choice when I was able to begin speaking while others were speaking. I could finish the sentence of a person while they were trying to say it since I was four. My Father thought that I was just a gifted Princess that was misunderstood. Being misunderstood doesn't even deem it for someone to have your VOCAL Chords STITCHED Shut. She thought I would speak evil, so she had it silenced. Then came the drugs, the abuse, the violent nightmares....The rapes were the worst. I even got pregnant seventeen times. Then Graymite found a way to get me out of that forsaken place, along with the Master. They taught me a lot over time and I really began to slowly get a grasp of what Love really WAS. I can't thank them enough for that. Then I started to...you know......get feelings more and more for Gray......I don't know where it came from or how it works, but everytime he goes away, my Chest gets tight and I get very nauseated. No matter who tries to comfort me; that void is still there and I loathe it when it comes. I can't really explain it, but it instantly disappears as soon as I see him. I don't know WHAT that is about actually....." Ben then stopped organizing the room suddenly, walking over to the one of the shelves, reaching up to the upper left corner to extract a tiny book from the tiny shelf. He then walked over to where Abraxis was sitting, now passing the small book to her directly. "You're Lovesick Abraxis. Graymite, take her into the main kitchen and make her something strong to drink; I have a an idea. Abraxis, go with Gray and read that book from end to end, understand me?" ben ordered out to her in a firm tone. She arched her eyebrow in curiosity, but nodded in full accordance, "Uhm, yes Master....if that is what you think is best for me. Come on Gray...I want some Ambrosia!!!" Rebecca first started out to speak to Ben as she was to walk over to the Mini-bar to get some Ice, "Okay Furball, what is on your mind THIS time? Out with it you insipid Canine!!" "We'll get her pissy drunk!!! I don't know WHY I didn't see this in the first place!!!" "Huh? So, what's THAT supposed to do but give the poor girl a hangover ben? I mean, I don't get it...." Argon said, now hugging on Avus, who seemed a bit distant......Why? "No......I see it now dear Furball of my Cousin. Let me see if I can guess this in a correct assumption then. YOU are figuring and pondering about the Asylum having her so drugged up that in this different environment, that pursuing a Placebo Effect as it were, she will be much more open and less defensive so that we can delve further into her problem and try to come up with a solution then? Brilliant....simply brilliant. Since alcohol affects everyone in a different manner, the effects of Ambrosia may be the right trigger mechanism in order to get some kind of a positive response to find out further about what she could be hiding. is that about the gist of it then benaires?" Said Avus, who was now nibbling on some Bird Seed as well. "I can't hide anything from YOU huh Avus? That's EXACTLY what I plan to do: get her ripped out of her mind, and then maybe I can dive into her thoughts and get some more answers. Of course Graymite will be there with her to comfort her, so what could go wrong? Seriously?" Argon then nodded in agreement with Avus, "This COULD be the crucial benefactor that we NEED so that we can finally get her treatment underway. We would know what Therapy to use and what training to comfort her with so that she won't have any of those violent episodes again. And Xylex, you can't solve everything with violence you know, for even as violent that Abraxis gets, calming her down is much more methodical and less uhm….brash if you catch what it is that I'm trying to convey to you dear. We know that fighting inside of Dr. Fowler's Mansion is against the rules as well; she MIGHT be ben's Employee, but she is STILL the Chief Historian of their race too, so respect goes all about in this place of peace; though Abraxis doesn't see things that way, hee-hee-hee…" Abraxis was sipping down the cold Ambrosia, simply staring lovingly at Graymite. She wanted tot ell him so much about how she felt, but she just didn't know HOW exactly. She didn't know what that kind of emotion was just YET. "So let me get this completely straight okay? Im in love with you...…..and it HURTS that I can't spend time with you. This causes one of my Charkas to tighten and become clogged with energy.... There is SO much about Love that I simply do NOT understand Gray. I DO know that my feelings for you are just soooooo strange, ya know? You really DO care, ever since the day I first fucking MET you......it's amazing. Does Master Benaires know about your ability to USE Dark Terror as a Self-help Magic yet? Or are you going to TELL Him dear?" She said, now scooting out of the bar stool and sliding a bit over to him closer, now a bit buzzed. She had drank just three 8-oz cups of the Ambrosia, but she was a terrible drinker indeed. Graymite laughed hysterically, then turned around to face her, as she drew even closer in to face him, ow blushing for some reason. She touched her Rosie-Red Cheeks and hiccupped twice, trying to laugh, but she just snickered loudly. "You can't even laugh huh M''lady? ARE you going to let Benaires and Xylex try to examine you NOW? We really should be preparing for what's going to come next. And to answer your question, YES, I am going to TELL him today. You're pretty buzzed, but I think you LIKE that feeling, right?" She nuzzled him, nose to nose only nodding, "You have to PROMISE me that the Master WILL be gentle. I don't like that Xylex thing. he seems a bit foolish, yet arrogant, and that is a great turn-off...even if I wanted him as a friend. Do you understand Gray? HE HAS TO BE NICER TO ME OR I WILL STRING HIS MOLECULAR STRUCTURE throughout this city!!! And don't you think that I CANNOT DO it, caus I WILL dammit!! I am The ABRAXIS......feared and drunk onetothstars!!! HIC!!"
  24. 1 point
    Leinhart wasn’t too far behind Tatia as she let down the body that now swung in the bedroom, meeting his gaze as he commanded the woman to clean up the mess, she smiled. Slapping her hands to dust away the grime of the sheet, she moved to the door leading into the bedroom. Pausing, she watched as the girl heeded the commands of Leinhart, his very power demanded her body to react. Watching as he turned on his toes to take his leave, she watched the girl get up to do what she was told. The sounds of her sobs became quiet, streaks from her tears stained her cheeks. Knowing that when she made her way to Tatia, she had to do some major work to remove the mess that was left upon her face. Away she turned making her way towards the room the couple had earlier claimed for themselves, the dark room that was painted in dark hues with purple highlights. This is the place where her clothing was housed for this specific trip, the masses of suitcases that were packed to the brim with dresses and other garments of interest. They were bound for the nightclub, and Tatia had the perfect short skirted dress to wear. Once inside the room, she had pulled the dress from the case in which she had it packed, the black dress had a skirt made of black feathers with silver sewn in the fabric in such an elegant design. Taking up the dress, Tatia disappeared behind a divider meant to give privacy. Stepping out moments later, she spun around in the tight little dress.
  25. 1 point
    Gimme a short while more, will work on it soon!
  26. 1 point
    Support. /drowns Die Shize in celebration before the tournament starts
  27. 1 point
    Can we vote for champagne ceremonies? Whoever wins gets sprayed with champagne. Whoever loses gets drowned in champagne.
  28. 1 point
    You mean speculate into the motivations of a nonexistent person for a hypothetical situation? No thanks! idk why someone would or if they’d even do it on purpose. The if conditional doesn’t care for the why, just that it is or isn’t You can ask die shize tho
  29. 1 point
  30. 1 point
    Their overall agenda is essentially "same thing we do every night pinky, try and take over the world!" and it's how these things come together and how those can overlap with personal preference in RP that's the key. For instance you know better than I do whether you'd like an action-oriented plot or a slower moving political plot and can determine what makes sense for you and your proclivities For example, using the body snatchers I've done both. The first is ongoing in Taen where me and another player are performing a bank heist - the overarching goal here is to introduce chaos in the area so that we can move in under the screen of that chaos and position ourselves strategically. But all I have to worry about in that thread is making a mess and having fun By contrast in Norkotia I've had my character go through the stages of being a refugee from Palgard, going through the naturalization process in Norkotia which had him on temporary unemployment before he could find a job doing manual labor then worked his way up the ranks to become a junior project manager at Blackblood energy corporation. You could do the same thing for another enterprise in Norkotia, or in Taen, to expand the existing foothold. Or in Nymeria or Predator's Keep to create new footholds Also in Norkotia the body snatcher infected a born citizen since you need to be in order to run for higher levels of government. If you wanted to do something with more emphasized political themes, I'd be happy to have you fan those flames or you could parallel this effort in the other areas mentioned
  31. 1 point
    Pasion Pasiva

    The Valucre Photo Album

    Yes...flounce, flounce my pretty... *evil cackle*
  32. 1 point
    We just got done a quest that was laid out by the tavern (Can't bear it any longer). Your welcome to join with whatever we decide to do next.
  33. 1 point
    galewarning

    The Decision.

    Cadryn, looked the drunken mercenary over. "Aye. I think we could arrange something you and I." He started to walk toward the door, and felt a shoe nudge his stomach as the lute, still raised above his head swung the gypsie into him. Ah. He thought to himself. That's why my arms tired. I'm still holding the tiny thing. Setting her down on her feet he made an attempt at a gracious bow, and stumbled over a groaning patron. Righting himself he blushed up at her. "Seems as though I will not be needing you to destroy that horrible instrument after all." Turning he walked outside, and headed in the direction of Usko and Mud. Chum was standing with hackles raised by Usko. A firm hand on his head assured him all would be well.
  34. 1 point
    zackrobbman

    War IS The Answer!

    Skull wanted to spout off a number of different things in response to the executors directions. A few of the things he had in mind were, 'You can't tame war, cup-cake. All's fair.' 'You're paying me to finish what you started.' or even 'F*** your historical buildings!'. Skull did not like others telling him how to do his job, even when it was someone that likely knew what they were talking about. The executor no doubt did since he had to have been through a considerable number of battles to be leading an assault for a nation and was probably a better soldier all around as a result, but Skull cared little for a persons report. The only thing he cared about was his weapon. Oh. And money, of course. Money provided his baby with bullets, and 'Alyssa' only accepted the finest grade of ammunition. He didn't like wasting ammunition anymore than the executor didn't like him destroying the cities historical monuments, but in his experience, collateral damage could be quite beneficial. If it didn't serve to weaken the enemies morale when they saw what his gun could do to reinforced concrete and steel, it shredded their cover and forced them to scatter. Still, he had to bide his tongue. The executor wasn't paying him, but there was a good chance that either he or someone else from the Norkotian hierarchy was paying the Tin Man, and the Tin Man was paying him. If he didn't abide by the executors wishes, the executor could make a complaint up the ladder and get the Tin Man's full sum reduced. After that, the best case scenario for him was not being paid and not being killed by the Tin Man himself. This was ridiculously unlikely considering his boss's reputation, so Skull merely exhaled through gritted teeth and said what he knew he'd better. "Yessss.....ssssir." he seethed before switching his radio frequency to the other heavies. "Skull here. The executor wants minimal collateral damage. Target hostiles, only!" While the forefront of his mind was working on not saying something to the executor that could get him shot in the head later, the back of it was working out their current situation. Their very current situation. The number of hostiles had decreased considerably, their defensive line having been broken through like a wall of cards. He knew from experience that by this point, the enemy would either be retreating from the battle, or choosing to wait in ambush. The former wasn't likely for many reasons, so that left the latter. If they just kept on going with the assault in a literal straight line, they'd likely be murdered rather gloriously. They'd already shown that they could deal with armor at the start. Not a lot could get through his suit, but he didn't want to leave his life up to chance. Skull didn't sign up for that. The grunts did. "Stop and hold off." Skull said to the other heavy, ceasing his advance. The other heavy who we will name 'Lady' because of the naked depiction of one painted on his back, ceased firing on the few retreating defenders he could see. He kept his mini-gun spinning though, curious as to why skull had put a halt to his favorite past time. Skull held up fist to halt the executors tank and the Norkotian soldiers accompanying it. "RUSH IN BOYS!" shouted Skull. The less armored, drugged up infantry the Tin Man had hired let out a cacophony of battle cries and shouts before rushing ahead of them. They sprinted forward like a pack of wild animals, eager to find someone to kill. "What're you doin'?" asked Lady, dissatisfied with the number of kills he'd gotten that day. Skull turned and gave him a look. His face wasn't visible, but one could tell that it was one of grave disbelief and appalled disappointment. "You trigger a mouse trap with your finger or a stick?" said Skull before turning away to watch the wave of mercenaries push passed them. "Uhh...a stick?" said Lady. Skull drooped his head and shook it dejectedly. "...Why I always gotta work with the dumba**es?" Skull muttered to himself before lowering his fist and motioning for the executor and his men to continue their advance. Most of the merc's with them had pushed on far ahead, leaving their six exposed. It was unlikely that anyone would manage to get behind them, but he wanted to keep his bases covered. "You," Skull said, hitting Lady on the shoulder. "Double back and cover our six." "You order me around like you're paying me, old man." Lady retorted angrily. Skull turned so that the front end of his whirring mini-gun was pointed directly at Lady's waist. Specifically the seam in between the abdomen and pelvis where the armor was weakest. "Come again?" said Skull, leaning down a little as if he were trying to hear him better. "F***in' a**hole." mumbled Lady before making his way to the back of the offensive. Meanwhile, back at the site of Bravo teams defeat, mercenaries were combing the area in a frenzy. The two heavies assigned to the area were called Gill and Till, two men that did most of their killing together. After receiving updated orders from Skull, the two reluctantly let off the triggers of their mini-guns to prevent any further destruction to the city's property. They didn't much care for Skull, but they'd ran more than a few jobs with the old man and he was usually good for his word. The immediate area had been vacated anyway, so there wasn't much left to shoot at besides each other. Most of them planned to do that once their pay came up, but that was for much later. One of the mercenaries that had been running around without shirt took note of the abandoned tank Bravo had been operating. Eager to blow something up, he and few others rushed over to it. It was a little banged up, but still appeared to be operational. They climbed to the top of it and tried to open the hatch just as Gill was walking over to see what they were doing. Till stayed behind to do a few checkups on his equipment, and that was what saved him. The tank exploded the moment the hatch was lifted, the ammunition inside adding to the boom that practically incinerated the merc's that had been trying to get into it and shredding anyone around it with loads of razor like steel. Gill was blown back hard, landing over a dozen yards away before slamming into the corner of a building. Till, who had only been knocked off his feet, slowly rose from the ground. He'd been standing behind a bullet ridden statue of some official looking woman when the explosion happened. "Ah...ahhhh, s***." he groaned, turning onto his chest as he tried to think through the ringing in his ears. He'd been winded and maybe concussed, but he seemed to be fine. His armor had held. The same couldn't be said for the others. As he rose to his feet and the ringing began to die down, he started to hear the screams. There seemed to be body parts and gore everywhere, most of them burned or charred black. He witnessed dozen of merc's crawling, hopping, or limping around, most of them on fire and holding the stump of a previously attached body part. "Wh-...what the hell?" he breathed, his headache getting worse. "H..HELLLP!" Till turned to the sound of Gill's cry, spotting his partner sitting on the ground by a building. His armor also seemed to have held up. For the most part. "T-TILL!" cried Gill after swallowing the blood that was trying to pool in his mouth. A large piece of metal seemed to have punched straight through his armor at the stomach, and if his lack of movement from the waist down was anything to go by, it'd also severed his spine. Explosions were notorious for turning every day metals into large, armor-piercing projectiles, so Till considered himself extremely lucky to only have a mild concussion. Gut wounds were a bad way to die. "Hmph." grunted Till before grabbing up his mini-gun and making his way over. "Please!" begged the downed heavy through gritted teeth as he tried to resist throwing up the blood that was likely gurgling up from his stomach. "I-I need help!" "Can you move?" asked Till without the slightest bit of empathy. Gill gritted his teeth and tried to move his legs, but they wouldn't even budge. He shook his head. "N-...no...no." said Gill. "Take off your helmet." Till said, his tone a little demanding. "Wha-...why?" "I'm gonna program it to sync auxiliary power to your legs so you can move." "We...can do that with these?" Gill asked, a tinge of hope in his voice. "Yeah." nodded Till. "Now take it off." "Oh...*gurgle* thank you!" Gill said, reaching his arms to depressurize his helmet. "I...won't forget this Till. I'm in your debt." There was a hiss before Gills helmet detached from the gorget and breastplate. Gill grunted in pain as he lifted it off his head. His chin was covered in blood that he'd regurgitated and his eyes were wide with suffering, but he was smiling. "Here." said Gill, holding the helmet out to his new friend. "Hurry! I think I-" BAM! Gills shoulders slumped and his so did his head. His helmet fell to the ground and rolled over to Tills feet. Blood and bits of brain dribbled out the new hole in Gill's forehead as did the much larger one directly in the back of it. Smoke wafted up from the barrel of the pistol in Tills hand before he lowered it and placed it back in the holster at his side. He then reached down and yanked the piece of shrapnel out of Gills gut. Throwing the jagged piece of metal away, he turned around and scanned the area, spotting a few merc's that seemed to have all or most of their combat essential pieces in place. He chuckled a bit when he remembered how his drill instructor always used to urge him and the other cadets not to lag behind. "ARMOR OVER HERE!" yelled Till as loudly as he could, possibly reaching more than his intended audience. "I GOT A FULL SUIT THAT NEEDS A NEW PILOT! ANY TAKERS!?" "...SURE!" Clive hollered back before lowering his hands and looking downstream. He couldn't see the bridge they were talking about because he was just a bit too far away from it, but he understood the need for it. The current had grown considerably stronger the further he traveled down the river. If he'd tried to swim across now, he'd likely tucker out and drown. And that was even if he decided to leave Zack behind, which was very likely. He'd probably tell himself that he'd come back for him later, but that was if he didn't get drunk enough to forget him. Something he did to Zack rather often. "I'LL START WALKIN' DOWN THATA'WAY TA' MEET'CHA!" yelled Clive, pointing down the river. But he had another request. "...YA'LL GOT ANY BEER?!"
  35. 1 point
    Shoddy day made better by having lunch with a familiar face. ❤️ Thanks for visiting, Ty!
  36. 1 point
    Then CLEARLY I am in the wrong tournament. I quit. Bye. /comes in Hi I’d like to sign up for Feast of Blades please!
  37. 1 point
    Chappu

    super ready for to write again.

    super ready for to write again.
  38. 1 point
    I'll update my post. Don't start writing Luke!
  39. 1 point
    Pasion Pasiva

    The Valucre Photo Album

    I learned something very interesting about you... Something very interesting indeed. *evil gaze into the distant horizon*
  40. 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
  41. 1 point
    The length wasn’t bad at all I’ll make a quick ooc note as to what you find in the nodes a little later today. You can use it to update your post with more content or just have Luke incorporate on his go
  42. 1 point
    ticklefarte

    A dollar for your sword

    No way. Will swallowed a loud laugh as Luke fell past him and tore the webs apart. Instead he made his way down, trusting that his partner would be able to protect himself. He hastened the process however. Indeed as he descended he found himself taking risks he normally wouldn't have. That was unreal, he thought to himself with a soft grin. When he reached the bottom of the pipe, Will seized the bundle of thread and looked at Luke out of curiosity. "You all right? Tell me you didn't crush that stone..." Luke didn't seem to teleporting so he took that as a good sign. He turned to the opening of the pipe and sighed. More to go. As he moved to explore, though, Will caught sight of something curious. A bundle of webs, wound around an object, nestled cozily in the curve of the pipe. He frowned and moved toward it. It could be many things, more likely the future meal of a hungry spider. Still, he envisioned in his mind a scenario in which a curious spider spotted a strange ring in its home and sought to preserve it. At the thought of this Will's heart beat faster and he rushed to the cocoon. Out of reflex he reached for his knife but, when it wasn't there, he pulled a bolt from his quiver and used the arrowhead to cut through the webbing. Was this it? Ah, definitely not. The smell hit him first, wet air loaded with the scent of rot and wet flesh. Will fell back in disgust and covered his mouth as the contents of the cocoon were revealed. A body? Gods why? He cast his eyes to the man's clothing, too disgusted to keep looking at the corpse. It'd been sickly, skin peeling off after lack of exposure to moisture. Eyes closed, but sunken in, and a ghastly cry frozen on a stretched face. Those robes...they belonged to a mage, right? He groaned and ventured closer, fingers reaching around the man's clothing to reveal a crumpled note, strange device, and small note. Will turned to look at Luke. "How many people did that wizard send into these pipes?" he demanded. His voice cracked from the sheer confusion he felt, blood rushing to his face as he looked back at the items in his hands. These damn tunnels were getting to him. The note - what did it say? The writing was smudged, letters rushed as if the dead man had been pressed for time. In Will's mind he could see the spider approaching this poor soul from on high. Slow, methodically. 8 eyes glittering with the glint of a hunter. Reflected in them was a man, fearing for his life. Hoping that he'd be found in time. Backing away slowly, a pen in one hand and a paper in the other. Writing furiously. Writing...what? Mone LIES Will's heart thudded like a drum, the thump seeming to echo through the chamber that was this damned pipe. He stared at the note for a long moment. His mind was whirling, thoughts spiraling down to come to a distinct conclusion: he and Luke were not the first. In most cases, that was fine. Where one adventurer failed, another might succeed but...why not tell them? And what the hell does this note mean? He looked at Luke, managing a weak grin as he passed the man the note. "I'm not sure what this is," he began quietly, "but be on high alert. We can decide to keep going, or crush that gem and ask Mone some questions right now. Regardless, something's wrong." He pushed past and looked around the pipe, thinking. Finally: "I say we forge ahead. Get the ring, crush the gem, and get our answers with leverage. But," he added, "if you want to end it here I'll support you. I can't force us both to keep going. "Our professor... he wouldn't put us in shifty situation right? I'm really not sure." He twirled the device in his hand, musing on the purpose and the contents of the potion. What was that man's story?
  43. 1 point
    Pasion Pasiva

    The Valucre Photo Album

    After more than a decade, I finally got to meet my best friend.
  44. 1 point
    AngryCacti

    A Fool's Errand

    There was a ladder leading down to the first floor. Tana tugged her gloves back into place and grabbed the bars. With a deft twist, she hooked her feet around the outside of the rungs and and slid down like it was a pole. Her boots made a soft thud as she hit the ground. The thief pulled her hood off and surveyed the area. The first floor resembled the second. The only difference was that more of the roof was intact on this level. The creature she saw scurry into the building was nowhere in sight. The towers of crates and debris could be hiding anything. Face exposed, the woman was disarmingly human. There were no mystical tattoos, no point to her ears, no whisper of an ancient heritage running through her veins. Her face was dirt common- there must be a thousand girls running around central Genesaris with her shared features. Her nose was small and flat and dotted with the occasional freckle that managed to latch itself to her skin after a glimpse of sunlight. Her mouth was thin with pale lips that had a habit of twisting into a cold, wet smile. It was such a common expression that the right corner of her mouth sat at a permanent angle. Short, black hair hung around her face and shone with a mixture of water and grease. The most remarkable thing about Tana’s face was her eyes. They were slightly angled up and sat deep into her skull. Long eyelashes sat atop a smudged khol lining. The pigment collected in the crevasses of her eyes and gave her the appearance of a fashionable raccoon. And behind everything, under the smeared makeup, beneath the thin, arched brows, sat a pair of irises the color of dirt and black oil. They seemed flat and lifeless until the light hit Tana’s face just right and they gleamed with a toxic smear of reflected malice. Loose tile crunched underfoot as Tana crept through the dim storehouse. She stopped in the center of the room. Piles of junk rose around her. The storm was the only sound that echoed in the stone walls. If there were monsters present, they were showing a sudden aptitude for stealth. In a flash, a knife was between her fingers and held in a defensive position. If she was going to search the building, she wasn’t going to do it with a monster lurking around the corner. Tana shifted on her heels and coiled into herself, muscles tense and ready to spring at the first motion. “Alright, I’m done playing games. Come on out so I can kill you.” She called.
  45. 1 point
    Jotnotes

    [Skarr Clan] Mouths to Feed

    Khrol paced next to the weapon, still brimming with a zealous fury. His hands clenched and unclenched, and whenever the trebuchet was reloaded, he'd, again, lend his plaguefire to the payload. The latest shots were not directed by him, of course, but by Veron, who directed the firing crew. The skaven manning the weapon were getting good at their job already, and the scraping and scrabbling of paws over the vehicle were deft and precise already. Their focus kept them to the task, and each shot was more accurate than the last, loaded somewhat faster each time. The raining fire called down by the Captain of the Mercenary company landed true, and left their mark. The sickly green and yellow fires danced in the distance, consuming the air and flesh alike. The Seer's fury did not abate quickly, but he noted their successes with a great and malicious glee. Soon! These manlets, cowering behind their walls, mocking the Seer and his kin would burn for their crimes. He took extra pleasure in how swift their comeuppance had come; no more than ten minutes had passed since their misdeeds before the Seer's--before the Skaven's--revenge was at hand! Ahead of the war machine, the ranks of the Skaven bristled and jeered as the town began to burn. Ahead of them, still a great distance away, the responding force was beginning to emerge, bulled from their hiding places by raining spellfire. The Seer accepted the spyglass, riding a wave of triumphant pride too high to be perturbed by Veron quite yet. He looked through the glass at the marching ranks, but grew bored and elected to stare at the climbing acrid smoke coming off of the town now. Out of his periphery, Veron raised a banner, signalling something, but Khrol had already moved on to other things. "Back line!" He barked at his men. "Take aim, and shoot to kill when they get in range! Front rats! Keep them off of the spear rats behind you! Spear-rats! Nothing gets to your front line!" The skaven masses quivered. One of them on the back line overzealously hurled a throwing axe forward, forsaking his ability to commit to ranged combat. He was shoved to the front line then, where he held his other axe still, suddenly exposed to danger. "Two rats to a target! On the sides, push up and around their defenses! Aim to knock them down quickly!" He continued giving his orders, before walking over to the trebuchet and giving another sharp order. "Aim for the center of the battlefield!" He commanded. The skaven working the machine looked confused. "It can't shoot that close!" One of them tried to say. "Make it happen, rats!" He seethed. One of them attempted to comply. Fiddling with the equipment, he centered it on the invading masses, and released the grip on the payload, while tightening it further. Khrol didn't set fire to this payload, but instead simply ordered them to fire. They did. The payload was tossed up and forward rapidly, before snagging near the top. It whipped around over the top, pitched forward--losing much of its momentum--before being hurled towards the battlefield, far more slowly than ideal. It slammed into the earth a good ten feet before the advancing army, but didn't roll. If he'd remembered to set fire to it, it probably would have spread easily from there, forcing the enemy ranks to diverge. He clenched his fists, impatient. "Load it again," He ordered. "Resume regular firing on the city!" It should come as no surprise that Thril encountered nearly no obstacles on her way into Kinsmeet. Fleeing under cover of day, she'd scaled the walls nigh effortlessly. The day patrol at the time had been light--their activities not immediately spotted. It made listening for potential threats easy on her, and made getting past the guards a walk in the park. Once she'd leapt down from the walls and into the town below, landing in a dank, unpopulated back street, Thril breathed loudly, suddenly overwhelmed with sensation. Try as she liked to abate the feeling, the Gutter was a bit of a mess when it came to man-things. Back in Tradetown, she'd spent more time than she should have leaping around from rooftop to rooftop, or skulking in the shadows as one might if they were on duty. However, she'd never done any of that while at work; she was simply intoxicated by the sensation of scaling the man-homes! The way they were built, the way the streets were hewn flat and the walls were ridged and grooved; the way the roofs jutted outward, and made a peculiar clacking sound as your nails stuck them and the way everything smelled of men and their habits was nothing short of exhilirating. It was, in a sense, freedom from the caves, and freedom from the Clan, and everything that entailed. It tasted, quite simply, like a breath of fresh air. Here, in the alleyway, the smell was different and its own. Kinsmeet was a beautiful town all its own, and the Gutter Rat so desperately wanted to forsake her intentions and just walk among the people. Climb these buildings, meet these people. See how they lived, so far from kin and country. However, she was tempered by her previous concern, and the weight of the cloak on her back reminded her still that she wasn't here to sightsee. She was here to find Vee-toe, and that had to happen first. She made her way through busy streets and buzzing activity quickly and effectively, as all who skulk in the dark are expected to. Thril's petite figure and her darkened clothing were effective for moving about unannounced. Slip through a crowd here, cross an overlooked street here; slowly, gently, she made her way...well, she wasn't quite sure where she was meant to be. The Gutter spent her day trying to find Vito, but had no such luck. Worse still, as time went on, the tone of the town changed. Guards appeared, more and more numerous than before. Mercenary types, too, from the looks of things. She assumed they were mercenaries, at least. Like Veron's company, they had their own armor, their own looks and smells to them. She suspected they weren't working in line with the rest of the guard. Still, she did a find job of moving around unnoticed. But before long, she ran out of time. With a horrifying crunch, and the sudden, horrified wailing of distressed peoples, Thril suddenly found the roads awash with panicking, floundering people. She hid from sight as they burst down one of the main roads through town. She watched, and stared, until a familiar voice broke through the screaming. Her ears perked, up, her tail lifting. Vee-toe! The panicking masses made for the Town Hall, presumably. Thril watched from the shadows as Vito ran for it himself, trailing behind. At one point, he was so close she could have reached out and touched him as he moved past. Then, when they were safely inside, Vito used his magic to brick up the door to the Hall, trapping everyone inside, save for him, and several guards. She heard them talking, but didn't really care. She saw them going for their weapons, and her vision darkened. The Gutter went for her shields, and crept from her hiding place, and up the nearest wall and onto the roof. Her bladed shields struck into the soft walls easily, making for a deft climb. Once up top, she made her way towards Vito and his enemies quickly, her vision boring into them. There were a lot of them, too much for one rat to handle. Too much for one man? She had no idea about that. But the Skaven understood that you do not let another of your kind fight alone. With no announcement or sundry, she navigated the rooftops, angling her approach. One of the guards, farthest away from Vito now, was advancing slowly. They were fanned out enough at the sight of his blade that she was confident she had time to react before any of them reached her. She focused on her target, made for the end of the roof at a full sprint, and leapt from the roof, cocking a fist above her head as she soared through the air. Her new cloak billowed about as she fell, descended upon the guard in question. Her shadow cast over him caused him to try and turn back, but not in time for her to land on his back, knocking him down. He cried out; Thril didn't silence him immediately, preferring jamb one shield into the small of his back first, before pulling it out and furiously slashing and stabbing at him with both shields, tearing into his back vapidly. Blood spilled, pooled and splattered. She climbed off when the screaming stopped, and put her weapons up, ready to defend. Vito saw how hard she worked for him, yes-yes?
  46. 1 point
    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.
  47. 1 point
    This is just my 2 cp, but if your character is powerful enough to insta two PCs at once, you may want to nerf that character. That aside, I wouldn't underestimate Adime and Gore. They may yet surprise you.
  48. 1 point
    On a summer night of a Blood Moon the people of Kabbalat and their leaders burned down every unholy house in the land of Lyon in search of the Lady Phoenix and her vampire. In their cottage away from the dangers of the City, naked in the warmth of satin sheets they romanced endearingly. A longevity seven centuries ago Tatia was in human flesh. and breathing. Now, he found himself staring into the pits of a resurrected woman, his Bride and her gift of Choisel immortality. In a short lived nostalgia away from the apartment and their sojourn, Tatia pursed her lips unto his breaking him free from he recollections of their distant past . The sensations of her drawing, sucking, pulling the sweet nectar from the arteries soon was no longer numb in his left forearm once she stopped drinking and ceased her tongue from prohibiting recovery. The hand upon her cheek glided fingertips down her face, barely breaking into a layer of her skin. Lifting from near her chest he held his tongue beneath her chin to catch the rolling red fluid run down the side of her face. Then the sound of some bolder came crashing from the backroom, abruptly ruining their intimacy. Craning his neck eerily in a final glance abroad the other side of the hall, piercing the the flickering lights with bewilderment, his gaze stretched towards the loud thud that echoed the corridor through the apartment. In her heightened alertness as always, Tatia was first to respond bursting from his lap with phenomenal acceleration until her vibrating form halted by the bedroom, prying the door in her vampiric prowess. "Culpabilities got him before we were able to put them to good use? What a tragedy, no?" In his slightest impressions, the Ancient's presumptions were if ever hardly mistaken. Judging by the young lady’s hysteria and the Countess's insight, some dreadful misfortune had to occur to her lover. Through what his sister witnessed, he didn’t necessarily have to peek into the room to conjure her sightings. Through the Matriarch's mind eye he envisioned the image of the hangman suffocated out of his own accord in the center of the room. Leinhart let out an exasperating sough, porcelain hands cracked together in an unnatural 360' degree rotation, contorting from the wrists and tendons only to sew the damaged ligaments anew in the next seconds that came. He stood up to rise to his full height of nearly 6' 1/2 feet, the natural cast of darkness beneath him from the room retrospectively, reflecting the frightening stature of their Master's in return. In the blink of a second his towering form beneath his vneck and the golden glitters he tried hard not to reveal, cast themselves at the doorway as Tatia moved to unhang the bedsheet from the rafter and so the corpse of the wrangling man that could not bear the burden of death to come. Hanging onto the frame his left arm with the mark from his mistress's fangs, the Ancient traced his eyes over the sound of wailing woman. An aura of unnatural darkness would generate in his manipulation as he chanted an incantation over her mind, obeying his supreme command and enacting service at the end of his words. "Clean this mess up, you will, under obedience of the true Redeemer. See yourself to the Queen once you have finished for a change of clothes. Tonight, we will have a little outing and you'll be at your best behavior as our puppet." One less person to play with was disinteresting. He winked for the hellavit’ a golden eye at Tatia before shifting on the balls of his steel toes, heading back into the shadows of the flickering lights the Choisel went to get ready for the nightclub. @Eternity
  49. 1 point
    Fierach

    Another Raid In The Night

    Each bolt fired by the automated launcher would have hurled a regular man off his feet, but the golem appeared to be implacable, although thankfully it would find the projectiles as poor sustenance as they had been at stopping it. Only the bolt heads were made of metal, and it would not grow too much. At least until it hurled itself onto the launcher itself. Arranged in a cross formation, one of the turrets would be immediate peril due to the close proximity of the metallurgical golem. Its sister turret was not able to attack it anymore, due to it being within its arch of fire, but the other two could. The electronics platform, being one of the central nodes of communication was self-shielded against the effects of electromagical discharge, and all but the heaviest of interference, but it did temporarily block both incoming and outgoing signals. The greatest threat however was still the physical one. Focusing their power, both lightning turrets discharged themselves at the golem. If they could not throw the metal-shaper back, or receive aid from the centaurs in doing so, then their contribution to the defense of the farm would be extremely limited. Mori's mines did not field as advanced shielding as the communications node, and were therefore subject to the intense radiation of energy. What circuitry they did have however, actually seemed capable of withstanding it, the technomancer's craft and artifice proving extraordinarily masterful. Only one of the six mines failed, its circuit-breaker overrun, systems fried, ordnance rendered inoperable. The other five remained alert and deadly.
  50. 1 point
    Asphodel

    Aster Ghyle Highglenn

    Basic Information Name: Aster Ghyle Highglenn Nicknames/pseudonyms: Ash, Glenn Title(s): N/a currently Age: 24yrs  Apparent Age: Somewhere in her mid-twenties Race: Satyr / Faun Gender: Woman (She/Her) Sexuality: Pansexual Marital Status: Unwed Birthplace: Small, secretive forest village Alignment: Lawful Neutral Physical and Appearance Weight: 100ish pounds, give or take Height: 4'11 Physique: Rounded and soft but physically agile Eyes: Hazel with human pupils Hair: Light brown Complexion: Tanned and heavily freckled Voice: Higher tone but she's generally got a pretty quiet speaking voice Tattoos/markings: No tattoos, but she's still growing out of her childhood fawn spots Unique traits: Furred light brown goat legs; Velvety goat ears; Two small horns growing out of her forehead pointing back Typical Attire: Loose fitting white renaissance-esq shirt with flared cuffs fastened down on her wrists using small black buttons. Puffy, equally loose brown pants tailored specifically for her more unique stature. A red and white striped bandanna, either wrapped around her head or tied around her neck depending on how sunny the day is. A dark leather belt and holster around her waist is also normally visible. Psychological Information Demeanor: Cheerful; Realistic; Eager to please  Strengths: Determined; Hardworking; Independent; capable Weaknesses: Desperate for praise; Can quickly become overwhelmed; Easily manipulated; Unwilling to give up on specific tasks/goals, but much more willing to give up on interpersonal relationships Quirks: Compulsively starts counting things when in a high-stress environment; Messes with her ears/horns when embarrassed Likes: Cities; Getting a bit tipsy but not enough to get fully drunk; The ocean and all the life contained within; Sheepdogs, specifically sheepdogs  Dislikes: Small towns; Traveling by wagon; The party lifestyle; Kids in general; Rich people who flaunt their wealth Equipment Mundane: · One small brass oil lantern · A small journal filled with a log of her travels · A leather canteen filled with drinkable water Weapons: · Two small silver daggers, kept in a holster around her waist (Visible to any onlookers) Other: · N/A for now Skills & Deficiencies Mundane:  · + Skill – Gardening; Baking & Cooking; Woodcarving; Sewing; Identifying Fauna and Flora · - Deficiency – Socially Inept; Has trouble learning new academic skills (ex: learning how to speak and write the local language, learning advanced mathematics, etc); Not musically inclined, can't hold a beat to save her life Combat: · + Advantage/Skill – Physically fit; Quick-witted; Inclined to use the environment to her advantage · - Deficiency – Untrained; Unwilling to take the final blow, so to say (Will not knowingly kill a sentient creature in a fight); Vulnerable to ranged attacks History Aster was born in the small village of Hadleigh, nestled deep in a forest commonly thought to be dangerous due to high fey activity in the area; these rumors of danger kept Hadleigh secret when kingdoms rose and fell around them. Aster was born to Ghyle Kegg Highglenn and Veris Roc Highglenn; Aster was a planned child, and her parents had married two years prior to her birth. Aster spent her childhood helping her father herd their small flock of sheep, and learning useful skills from her mother who brought in money as a seamstress. Aster always had trouble connecting to the other young satyrs of the town; she was too serious and collected for the other kids, who paraded their youth joyously. She learnt basic math from her parents and learned to read and write as well, though her academic troubles and impoverished situation meant further education was impossible for her to obtain. Still, she learned any other skills her homesteader parents could teach. As she hit adulthood, there was immediate pressure for her to marry and bring in wealth and extra hands to help on the farm. Aster pushed back again her parents expectations, not wanting to settle down and become a housewife and hating all the available age-appropriate boys in the village. Eventually she snapped and had a huge fight with her father, and afterwards she packed her things and left Hadleigh for good. Her journey continues; for now her biggest motivation is traveling in order to find adventure, meet new people, and discover new places she could only dream of in her youth.
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