Jump to content

Leaderboard


Popular Content

Showing content with the highest reputation on 10/19/2019 in all areas

  1. 7 points
    Note to everyone: I will be adjusting the Sanity table (released later) so that it’s easier to succeed, especially for Sanity 2 and down. We’re having trouble over at the Child’s Play thread to do anything at all. The current table still applies until the end of this round for both realms.
  2. 5 points
    @jaistlyn So, there's two major approaches to getting your work published: independent and traditional publishing. I'll start with the latter because, while there's more people involved and more money being moved around, it's simpler from the author's perspective. In traditional publishing, you usually work with an agent. Agents serve two functions: as gatekeepers and as advocates for authors. Agents are the go-between; you polish your novel as best you can and send it to an agent, if they like your work they'll agree to represent you. Standard agreement is that they get 15% of advances/royalties in exchange for that representation. The agent takes your manuscript and sends it out to editors at publishing houses in an effort to pitch and sell your work to them. This is where the gatekeeping effect comes in: if your work is sent to an editor by an agent, that represents (supposedly) a requisite amount of quality because an agent wouldn't represent an author they didn't think capable of writing fiction that'll sell. Let's say your agent pitches the book to the head editor at TOR and they really like it. That's where the agent's other function kicks in, because now the editor and agent are going to haggle over the cost of the book's rights. A traditional publishing house will always want the English e-book and print rights* to your book and it's becoming more common for them to want the audio rights, too. They leave you the IP rights -- that is, the setting, characters, and story are still yours, and if someone wants to make a film or video game, they have to work with you and your agent, not the publishing house. Because the agent's 15% is predicated on how much you get, the agent will usually work to get you the best deal possible. Let's say the editor agrees -- and there's no guarantee that they will, even if they love your work, but let's say they do. You agree to an advance of 20,000 dollars and a 12% royalty rate. They give you 20,000 upfront (in three payments, spaced out according to checkpoints in the book's production) and then if you can make 20,000 dollars worth of sales** you'll receive 12% of every sale thereafter. Exceeding your advance in sales is called "earning out." Your agent takes 15% off of all of it but that's fine; the boiler-plate offer from publishers is usually 5,000 dollars and 10-12% rights so they got you a decent deal. The editor slots your book into their house's publishing schedule; the timeline varies but let's say they set your publication date at 18 months out from the agreement. The editor or one of the editors on their team will take your novel and start working in edits with you. They, along with a proofreader, will take you through successive edits to tighten your book up. Developmental editing (character and story), line editing (grammar, tone, sentence structure), and then finally proofreading; during proofreading they'll create mock-up copies of your books ("proofs") and you'll go through them line by line to try and catch any spelling or typographical errors. During this time, the publishing house has lined up the cover art of your book and their PR department has set up any promotional material or activities they've budgeted for you. Generally, you have no say over the cover art unless it's egregiously abhorrent to you. The book goes through the editing process and all the attendant work of putting together the proofs, compiling an ebook version, and the myriad of things going on in the background of a publishing house that we aren't privy to, like the interactions between publishers and distributors, wherein distributors (bookstores) decide how many copies of your book they want to stock. As the 18 months come close the end, the publishing house will put together some advanced reading copies -- ARCs for short, which usually come without art or the final front pieces (table of contents, forewords, etc). The publishing house will send these out to reviewers, news sites, or as parts of promotional giveaway. You can usually request ARCs and they'll give you some to hand out if you want to do your own PR or request reviews from specific sources. Once the eighteen months are up and the publication schedule has rolled over to your month and date, the book goes on sale. Copies are shipped to various outlets and distributors, put onto shelves, and put on Amazon and other digital retailers. You have about two years to earn out that advance they gave you if you want to see any royalties. More importantly, you have two years to earn out that advance if you want to get another deal from that publishing house, because they're giving you the advance on the pretense you'll make the money back for them and then some. The bigger the advance, the more weight they'll put behind you, but the bigger the pressure to match it in sales. Failure to earn out doesn't kill your career but it's not good, either. This explanation is a bit lengthy, but it's not really complicated, just stressful. You write the best book you can, hone it to a razor's edge. Ship it out to agents. If you get represented, the agent sends it to editors. If it gets an offer, the agent does the haggling and you sign the paperwork if you're amenable to the offer. After that, you work with the editors to get your book in its best shape and the publisher does everything else. To shorten the explanation of self-publishing: you take all the things the publisher does and you do it yourself at your own cost. You pay an editor to work on your book. You pay for cover art. You pay for marketing. You format the manuscript (or pay someone else to do it) for ebook and print publication and set up a print on demand with your printer of choice. You're almost certainly not going to see your book in a store because you don't have any relationship with a distributor or retailer, but you can put it up for sale in every format on the Kindle store, Apple store, Kobo, and so on. The downside? You're covering the costs of production, you won't have the same market penetration in fandom or in distribution, and you won't get the same industry pedigree. The upside? Instead of a 12% of the profits, you get 60-70%. In traditional, your 10 dollar book will net you 1.20. In indie, it'll net you 6 or 7 dollars. Your rate of production is also much faster. The fastest self-published authors I know can write, edit, and prep a book for sale in two months or less, compared to the 12-24 month time period of traditional publishing. For short fiction, you generally just find a market that buys your kind of fiction and follow their submission guidelines. Let's say I write some literary weird fantasy piece, maybe 5,000 words. My choice of market would probably be Clarkesworld or Beneath Ceaseless Skies. So I go to their website, check their submission guidelines. Format the story, shoot it to them. If they like it, they'll shoot me a contract. I sign, they send me my money (standard SFWA payrate is .08 cents a word, so 400 dollars) and then publish the story. Agents don't get involved in short fiction sales because it doesn't net them much of a profit since there's no royalties 99% of the time and the advance is usually between 100 and 800 dollars. *By "print rights" I specifically mean first print rights. So if you publish the whole book on your blog or on Medium, or via self-publishing, then you've voided your first print rights. It's extremely rare for someone to do this and still sell the print rights of their book. I can think of two or three indie authors who managed it, but it's a freakish outlier. Foreign language rights (every other language beyond English) is usually something you retain and that your agent will sell if they can. A literary agency often has someone dedicated to foreign rights sales. **This 20,000 isn't earned at retail price, it's earned at your royalty rate. If your book costs $10.00 and you get $1.00 in royalties, you'd have to sell 20,000 copies to earn out, not 2,000. That should cover most of the process of having your work published, without getting too deep into the details. It's more stressful than complex, a bit of a crapshoot, and most of the intricacies are handled off-stage by other people, many of whom you'll never see or interact with.
  3. 4 points
    We’re seeing a class based civil war play out before our eyes between #rngprivilege vs #rngpoverty
  4. 4 points
    Now I'm not going to say "lmfao you aren't in low sanity hell, you have no room to talk" But uhh You've had full if not close to full sanity to work with in your realms so far You don't know the true fear of super low sanity that you can't even get back to and keep at full because of a constant passive effect and a plethora of sanity drains arrayed against you Not to mention the constant misses this leads to (see several posts with literally all actions not hitting) and backfires that take away HP and thus actions This isn't a "Yeah a few deaths may happen at RNG's whim and we signed on and agreed with that possibility" It's more like "the possibility of a TPK for the Child's Play realm is scarily likely with the current sanity mechanics"
  5. 3 points
    Mickey Flash

    Realm Events

    I don’t know if this idea is now all Star Wars, but I was still laughing over the adults turning kids. Lol. I created a thread or two where the characters switched bodies with each other. Same personality, different powers/gender/species, and not having a clue how to use the new body’s powers. That was pretty fun. Put a bunch of RPers names in a hat and drew out the pairs that were switching.
  6. 3 points
    Pfft, nerfing the difficulty. It's been too easy imo lol
  7. 3 points
    Voldemort

    Golden Reaper [CLOSED]

    As the auction commenced, the tent seemed to buzz with a special kind of electricity. Hearts were beating faster, the anticipation amongst the crowd was great, and the mutant couldn’t care less. Arthur yawned from his corner seat, standing his sheathed long sword in between his seated legs as he couldn’t sit properly with the exceptionally long blade dangling from his left hip. The alchemist watched the unfolding event with a sort of bored curiosity, not interested in the set of daggers being peddled at the moment, but still attentive for any items that would interest the mage. Arthur chuckled under his breath, his wolfishly orange eyes veering away to catch the various acts of theft occurring throughout the tent. Of course they’d use child pick pockets at an event like this. It seemed Dawic was looking to make quite a bit of profit from the auction, and not just from selling artifacts and antiques. It would be supremely difficult to reach for Arthur’s coin, nestled deeply in his flaring black robes.
  8. 2 points
    I’ll not nerf it too much. But if you look at the sanity 1 and 0 tables, only a roll of 8, 9 or 10 nets you a success. That’s less than a one-third chance. Coupled with that low sanity usually (but not always) comes with lower health, which means less actions, there’s a good chance you’ll not succeed in your actions for two, three or even four rounds. Since each realm is only five or six rounds, this means you’ll spend half your time not being able to do what you want. XD I expect this to be even more pronounced when we move into the last pair of realms.
  9. 2 points
    supernal

    Realm Events

    Do an interest check and see how many people would sign up for it, not as its own thread, but to incorporate into existing or new threads as random effect!
  10. 2 points
    Tyler

    Realm Events

    Fun! See, that's the type of thing I'd love to do as a wide-scale event! lol "The spiritual dimension is having connection issues. Users (souls) may find themselves logged into the wrong profile (body). We apologize for the inconvenience."
  11. 2 points
    I like it. Granted Sheryl would be more adept in jaist's nightmare realm then the two I have there, but the low sanity is fun to work with. If anything, gms need to balance around the sanity meter then the sanity meter be balanced to it.
  12. 2 points
    Lol What have you been doing in your realm Mrs. Jaistlyn? It sounds like things are getting pretty rough in there.🤣
  13. 2 points
    Rabbit

    [Skarr Clan] Mouths to Feed

    "I wouldn't mind bringing some captives of my own back to my settlement, free labor can go a far way." Vito followed Veron, his boot caving the heavy wooden door in. Thril and Floki followed closely behind, ready in a fighting stance. There were a few screams as settlers attempted to further back away into their huddled masses. An older male lay on the ground in front of one of the groups, his sword held in a defensive manner. If there was an award for bravery in vain, he'd get it. A woman held several children in her arms, were they all hers? Another man lay in the corner not moving, his body covered in bruises and scratches. He'd seemingly been trampled to death in the panic, unable to get medical attention and left to die. The raider kicked the corpse onto it back, confirming his death. "Not the nicest way to go." Vito felt like a demon walking the isle of a church, each footstep making the residence flinch. Veron gave a small speech, a skaven holding his banner as he spoke. A few residence came out of hiding to try and hear what he was saying, the room at a near silence. He pull out a handful of nuts, the shell crunching like bone. Veron gathered the mass of people, grouping them into one big circle. The Black captain picked a bald man from the crowd, seemingly another noble. It was obvious the two had meet, having a close history together. 'Hmm, don't you love the smell of blood and drama?' 'Never gets old.' Vito raised his sword, the blade lighting up with blue and red flames. He brought it to the Lords neck, lightly burning his skin. "He cried about a women, his last thoughts most likely on her. I read through a few of his journals, someone named 'Maria'. He had a nicer death than most, able to both go out on his own terms and thoughts, not panicked and slain like the others." Vito brought the butt of his sword staff down on the lords shoulder, causing him to fall onto his knees. "Meanwhile you hide with the masses, so much for a lord." 'I'll never understand how you mortals pick your leaders.' 'We often don't have a say in the matter.' Vito turned to Veron, sheathing his staff. "I'll head upstairs, see if there's anything note worthy. Later I have something to discuss, future raids with far more certainty await us." Vito, Thrill and Floki made their way upstairs. They were greeted to cowardly guards attempting to hide from chaos, soon the meet their end with the smell of burning flesh following closely behind. The rooms were basic, mostly used for storage of random crap. Booting down the final door revealed an office, similar to Lord Iggo's, but far less decorated. It revealed nothing much of interest, most information that could be gathered was strictly limited to the town. But there was something of interested, a necklace sat on the lords neck. A coin, encased in a skull decorated seal. "Hmm, very nice."
  14. 2 points
    supernal

    It's kind of like a heist

    I haven’t read it yet but the Infinite Jest lengths of it tells me you had fun and I’m going to have fun reading it
  15. 2 points
    Csl

    It's kind of like a heist

    Posted! I probably put more effort (and words) into that post than was necessary. But it's been a while since I've had this much fun writing something! Tell me if I got the timings off, but aside from Pallas arriving and officially capturing Gore, nothing that impacts things as they stand as of the last round. yay for citizen journalism
  16. 2 points
    -90:00 Lunaris was no stranger to crime. It was unavoidable, with a city the size it was and its citizens being who they were. War refuge the metropolis was, but even it had its rough edges, the dark corners where drug trade flourished and the greed of few pressed many into desperation and violence. To many, blatant disruption of public order was rare. The occasional scuffle was prone to escalating into a gunfight, but most people knew better than to disturb the peace. The trees had eyes. The birds sang every secret. Every faceless stranger could be the queen's hands and feet, quietly watching, ready to snuff out any threat to the sanctuary Taen offered. This was why, when the bar exploded, Simon Novace did not yet panic. He worried, just a little bit, as he watched the Twine reports filter in, as the radio guy (Mark, or Matthias, he couldn't remember) radioed the announcement to the constabulary. A lucentglass panel covered one wall of their office, overlaying a grid of thread-thin vines twisted into a perfect model of Lunaris’ Twine network. Points of light pulsed on the lines as messages entered the network. Just an isolated incident, Simon thought, leaning forward, fumbling for his twine transceiver beneath the mounds of paper on his desk. His fingers found the coil. A vastness yawned open at the back of his mind's eye. Simon began poring through the messages -visual snapshots of the explosion, long-winded accounts of the event, frantic lost-person reports. The Lunaris Telecommunications office wasn't a great institution, not like the City Guard or the medical center. Their office consisted of seven telepaths at seven desks. Simon's scope was the Banyan district. The othets monitored various areas in Lunaris, sifting past the job searches and invitations, sorting messages, keeping an eye on the crime reports, warnings, and assemblies, the minutae of the city's activities. Turns out people were more than willing to keep themselves under surveillance if it came in the form of gossip and helpful community conversation. the fire is obviously a cover-up for another one of the governor's mistakes. Down with Heiliger! Mostly gossip. Simon stitched together a chronological account of the incident, then pieced together the memories the witnesses had twined as a composite image of the scene of crime. The constabulary would need all the data they could get to supplement witness accounts and track down the arsonists. -75:00 In the wake of the explosion, the cityfolk sprung into action. Minutes after the fire began, a plumber began rerouting the pipelines in a nearby cottawood building. The orange glow suffused his arms as he, perched on a second-story balcony, crafted a crude hose from the exterior piping, directing the spray of sticky, saplike liquid at the bar. A trio of women dropped their groceries and ran to a nearby hydroponic restaurant. One broke the tiered tanks free from their scaffolding; the two others muttered a spell, sending the wall of soupy liquid cascading against the side of the bar. The fire smoldered, kept at bay. The handful of passerby who'd taken the wildlight first-aid classes offered by the health center began tending to the injured. A man drew strings of energy from his horse and into a badly-burned woman, light bleeding into her veins. Weakened, the horse stumbled to its knees, but the woman cried in relief as her skin knits together. A few minutes later the constabulary arrived, trailed by a handful of medics and a stern-faced trio from the City Guard. Simon watched the reportage of the events as he waited for his coffee to cool. Isolated incident. Nothing to worry about. -60:00 A smattering of lights burned on the lucentglass twine map- the residential area some distance from the Banyan. Simon reconnected to the network, scanned the reports, then frowned. "Radio the constables," he called over his shoulder to the radio comm guy (Mark? Matthias?). "Gunshots between Corona and Laminary" "Think it's the same guys?" asked Mark (or Matthias?) "Maybe. Maybe not. Better safe than sorry." The minutes dragged by. No further reports of crime. Simon began to relax as the Twine monitor resumed its normal activity. Then, a radio crackled to life, the tinny voice of a constable breaking the silence. A murder. Simon took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through his nose. He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a moment to collect himself. Please be a coincidence. "D'you think we should send out a public warning?" asked the woman at the desk next to his. Aster. "The prince said-" "We wait," Simon interrupted, "Until we get instructions from the constables." He stared at the Twine monitor. "Or something else happens." He stood to refill his coffee. -30:00 “Gunshots at a pharmacy,” Aster called out. Her eyes were closed, her lips set in a thin line. The office looked at her, waiting anxiously. She shook her head. “Nothin’ else. Shop’s far from the housing places. One of the shadier areas. Folks there ain’t likely to Twine crime, most bein’ criminals themselves. This one’s from a nosy old lady.” Matthias was fiddling with his transceiver. “I’ll forward it to the police anyway.” Aster nodded. The room returned to its tense silence. Simon sipped at his coffee. -15:00 The screen around the Silverbrush bank bloomed with reports. "Bank robbery!" Julius sat with one hand on her transceiver, another on a lucentglass plate, projecting the reports of the event as they occured. Matthias stood over her shoulder, muttering into the radio transceiver. Aster gave Simon a look. He groaned. The other five telepaths waited anxiously as Simon dug into his desk drawer, producing a black spinner ring. It seemed to be made from a clear resin, but tightly-packed within, was a thick band of ink-black feathers. Simon sent a short prayer to Gaia, slid it onto his finger, and turned the outer ring. A new consciousness slipped into his mind. Simon swallowed. "Y-your highness?" Yes? I'm from the Lunaris Communications office. You've asked us to inform you of any... er... acts of terrorism? Silence. Assent. The telepathic equivalent of a nod. Simon hurried to continue. "There was an explosion at the Banyan market thirty minutes ago. A man was murdered in a nearby alley short while after. And after that… someone reported gunshots in a small pharmacy. Now, someone's holding up the Silverbush Bank." A pause. There’s been four already? The voice, silent and toneless as it was, felt accusatory. Simon began to form an excuse, but found himself silenced. Never mind. We really need to automate your job. Thanks for telling me. Broadcast a warning in the district. Tell everyone to stay indoors. I assume law enforcement is en route? "Yes, your highness." Simon made a gesture at his coworkers. They got to work, returning to their desks to beam a high-priority Twine announcement across the Silverbrush district. In a moment of brazenness, Simon dared to ask the question. "D-do you think it's the sheriff-killers?" It had been a few months, but the memory was fresh. It was one thing to face beasts from beyond their city borders. Another to have one of their own murdered within their walls. We’ll see, said the voice on the other end of the ring. Keep an eye on what happens. The presence faded. Simon turned the ring back and tore it off his hand. “It’s so creepy talking to him,” he muttered. “Having him in my head.” From a radio in the next room, the crisp voice of Oliver Oxenfree came to a halt. “I’d like to interrupt this broadcast for a moment to address our Lunaris listeners, of particular- those in the Silverbush district. Listen well to this announcement! Stay inside your homes! Shut your doors and close the windows, leave the main streets. There’s dangers roaming your streets, says our sources. Nothing your dear governor can’t handle, I’m sure - and most assuredly no challenge to Caer Loerem! All the same, be vigilant, Taen. Be vigilant.” -10:00 Nobody paid attention to the starlings. They were just small birds, after all, often found flitting over the city. Common as pigeons, though more intelligent, and more of a nuisance, with their fondness of stealing food of shiny things. There was something strange with their eyes, though, a bright orange that stood out against their dark feathers. As everything in Taen, they always seemed to be watching. Several came to perch on the stone pillars of the Silverbush bank after the first gunshots echoed in the building. One fluttered over to a windowsill, eyeing the interior with great interest. One squawked as the Governor appeared. Three flitted away as the carriage began hurtling away from the street, presumably startled by the chaos. Another pair began squabbling as law enforcement arrived. One in particular seemed to take interest in the proceedings, watching the constables began erecting barriers around the dead and interviewing the witnesses. There would be a vierescent among the respondents, one who could lift images from the minds of the witnesses using wildlight as a channel - faces, voices, the height and build of the robbers. All necessary information, all helpful in identifying the suspects. One bird left its perch, daring to alight on a railing next to a sobbing woman. She didn’t seem to notice “- blood running down half of his face!” The bird hopped into the air, fluttering to another witness- a scowling young man with a death glare set on the constables before him. “... was sumthin’ wrong with them, I keep tellin ya. Its eyes moved all wrong, like they weren’t together. Monsters, I tell ya- them dark things from Argentspire finally sneakin’ into our cities..." The bird chirruped, a sound eerily similar to laughter, and took to the skies. 00:00 A single starling circled the broken carriage. It watched Adime streak away as one of its brethren took chase - then pull up, losing track of the creature. It watched the web of wildlight pulsing around Sebastian, the few filaments of magic glowing weakly. It watched personnel from the medical center began to arrive, faces hidden with air filtration masks- created for the Wetlands’ miasma, equally effective in preventing cyanide poisoning through inhalation. Once it finished counting the dead, the starling dove down towards the front of the carriage. Sebastian would hear footsteps behind him. A moment later, Pallas Paralios stood beside the governor, tightening the bands of another filtration mask behind his head. “I’ll take over.” The prince’s voice was muffled behind his mask. He moved with an air of… not exactly purpose, but the air of a man much-accustomed to things falling apart and having to put them back together. Pallas reached out in the direction of the horses. The already-injured creatures fell limp. The air trembled as Pallas clenched his fist, drew his hand to his chest, then pushed his palm outwards. The strings between Sebastian and the dying citizens pulsed, reinvigorated. Pivoting on his heel, Pallas turned his attention onto Gore. No strings of wildlight bound the creature together, not that he could sense. His brow furrowed. “Not from around here,” he muttered to nobody in particular. He held up a pair of forceps, gingerly picking up one of the slugs. A moment later, the forceps were gone - slug and all. Satisfied, Pallas stepped back. There was a sound like a singing wineglass, silenced. Light bent subtly around the bloodied creature as a spatial barrier enclosed him, cutting off the edges of the wood impaled in his chest. He turned one of the black rings on his hand. “Apothecary? Send more personnel to the Silverbush district. You’ll need to set up a temp clinic. A hundred or so cases of gas poisoning. No, I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s lighter than air and dissipating already.” He turned another. “Novace. Get in touch with the KMed people. Twine out their instructions for this kind of gas poisoning.” Pallas finally laid his eyes on the governor. “Fine mess we’re in, hm?” He cocked his head, studying the man for a moment. “You’re the one dad appointed, weren’t you?” he finally said. There was a note of wistfulness in his voice. "Yeah..." Sebastian said awkwardly, "Your father was a good man." Pallas looked like he wanted to say something, but seemed to change his mind. “Mhm.” He stuck a hand in his pocket. “I don’t like bureaucracy. I’d rather deal directly with your people when it comes to. But you’ll need one of these.” He tossed a black ring towards the man. “Direct link to me.” Sebastian caught the ring and nodded, "Much obliged." Pallas looked in the direction the other man had gone. “If these things are what I fear they are... I’m going to have to make changes to....” he waved vaguely. “The cities. Security. Military. You have a right to know that. Probably.” Pallas turned another ring. “Progress on the Faux-Tons?” A moment later, he sighed. “Fine. I’ll ask him.” A few minutes later, a truck bearing the Khartes sigil drove up. Pallas watched as the men loaded Gore’s barely-alive form onto the vehicle. A middle-aged man holding a container came up to the prince; Pallas took the empty box. He returned it with the slug and forceps inside. He turned back to Sebastian. “Forward all autopsy reports your men get to Khartes. Some from Coeus might show up later.” The prince rolled a shoulder, unfolding a pair of dark wings.”And get a new sheriff, please. It’s been long enough and your cosntabulary's in sore need of delegation.” "Yeah, that's sort of the problem," Sebastian replied, "We've gone through a number of sheriffs, and all of them are dead or missing in action. But I have a plan. I'll send you the specifics." Suddenly, Pallas laughed. “Gone through a number- hah!.” He shook his head, eyes shining. “This land is so damned cursed. Vitality and lethality. A place of paradoxes.” He chuckled again. “Man, be glad you’re only dealing with this city. As a whole? It’s wild, I tell you.” The whispers of the onlookers reached his ears. Pallas glanced at the medical personnel, up at the ones shuttered in the buildings, and nodded. A single starling took flight, leaving the city behind.
  17. 2 points
    jaistlyn

    Writing and Publishing AMA 1.0

    I’ve always been curious about this - once you decide that you want to try and get something published, where do you start? Who/what platform do you approach with a draft of your work?
  18. 2 points
    Dresdnd

    Golden Reaper [CLOSED]

    While standing in the corner searching for his target he couldnt help but botice the kids amongst the crowd. Pickpockets obviously, he chuckled to himself. Majority of the people here wouldnt miss anything they lost to the hands of the children. They were just trying to survive. He flicked some coin to a passing child who nabbed it and look up at him, wendin just smiled and nodded off to the side. The child taking the hint quickly scurried off back into the crowd "no sign of the target" the voice spoke "perhaps we were sold out or he was tipped off" wending thought on this for a moment "Na, hell show, charismatic little shit like that wouldnt possibly miss an event like this" As if on cue an extravagantly dressed dwarf entered the tent reeking of powerful cologne and whiskey. Sitting near the side of the tent he almost immediately began bidding, throwing out some large numbers and getting more than one persons attention. He was all smiles and laughs, buying drinks for those around him and holding conversations between items Wendin smirked , he had a scar on his left cheek "Gotcha" "hmmph, well we found him, best wait untill hes alone or goes to collect his items after the auction to take him down" "For once" he muttered to himself "you and i agree"
  19. 2 points
    Vilhardt

    A Cure For What Aleth You

    All hell had broken loose it seemed, causing Liz to bring her hand over her face in distaste. As banter exploded back and forth, she rubbed the bridge of her nose, growing tired of the bickering and the paranoia. Her recluse nature helped block it all out, and she had taken a deep breath to ease her mind. It was then that she felt a growing vibration, and shortly after, a still pause. Patton looked up from the floor in curiosity, concerned about something. "What was that..?" Elizabeth asked, undertone in the ruckus of the hack job party; and the questionable ethics at hand. The inquiry was met with an answer, a force which bore through the ship and back. The sudden shift in momentum laid Elizabeth onto her stomach, where she remained for a moment before climbing back onto her feet quickly; awestruck by the Yuuja. A look of amusement crept across her thin face as she began collecting data, her black cap being thrown off from the gust created by the dragon overhead. Her fingers had already began to work by the time Aya had ackowledged her, sourcing information for display. Elizabeth's reaction was snappy and drab, as usual. "Patience is a virtue, priestess. Where is your reverence for science?" Liz spat in excitement, her right hand plugging along commands to her network; dragging along alternating light glyphs which danced along the tips of her fingers. Elizabeth's attention snapped towards the gunshot when Emile fired, picking up vital information from the reverb. A light beamed from Patton's glasses, expanding and creating a light screen which overlapped information by imprinting into the distance, allowing for the others to see it. It displayed the tension differences that Emile had sharply picked up on beforehand, and gauged the scale of the creature's physiology in accordance with the vibrations of the water and the port size, revealing estimated location and activity through echo-pulses which appeared along a grid on-screen. Nothing changed the fact that they were all sitting ducks, floating atop what would be splinters in the ocean if the Yuuja continued it's assault. They needed to run ashore, maybe even lure the beast out of the depths, or disengage entirely; but Liz doubted those among her would comply. Still, with a vein sigh she insisted anyway. Hopefully the Yuuja wouldn't suck them in immediately. "I'm sure it's delicios Dauner, but I'm afraid we may all be the main course if we don't retreat to the port. We need as many advantages as we can get. I recommend we fall back, and strike from two sides in an attempt to force it out to sea." Liz explained, offering advice from a sound perspective. She added in another tidbit at the end. "Yuuja are infamous for swallowing ships whole...."
  20. 2 points
    Ilyana could only narrow her eyes when she noticed the shift in how Elizabeth was appearing. It wasn’t the consciousness within a shell of metal that perturbed her or the fact that she was left to dwell in silence after revealing Obtenebra. What bothered the Redeemer the most right now was the thought of having to live like this conscience before her. Did she even consider herself female any more? Has she transcended the notions of having to behave like a Terran? She was sure those who could appreciate what was before her from a scientific perspective might have gone further down the line of questioning but Ilyana could only sink into empathy and feel sorry for this ‘Liz’, wondering if she had chosen this upon herself or if this was forced upon her. Then her thoughts shifted to herself as she wondered truly if she had really accepted Obtenebra willingly or if she had been manipulated by the powerful being that had freed her from her bondage. Ilyana looked visibly saddened and deep in contemplation which made enduring the silence easier but did nothing to lift up her spirits then. Ilyana found herself coming close to Liz’s form, a bold hand not realizing it was moving along the apparatus that she had connected herself too, swirling black eyes piercing through as she was clearly distracted by her own thoughts then though they looked fixated upon the vulnerable creature before her. It was true that Ilyana could have taken this change to usurp even more power for herself within this company. She could have decimated whatever this technological marvel was but such selfish ideas never even surfaced. Elizabeth Patton was needed in this world. She somehow knew this deep down in her core and she had a distinct feeling the intelligent mind could in fact help her and Lady Glasmann ensure their survival upon the looming threat of the Enrele. Obtenebra rippled along her body as it felt the sense that it was being watched, its usual paranoia snapping Ilyana out of her brief daze and causing her to look around. She could feel the goosebumps along her skin and she did not enjoy the sensation but given she was used to powering through such negative feelings, Ilyana simply took it in stride once again, deciding to start speaking after a good amount of silence had gone by. “Perhaps I should have waited until you had situated yourself before peppering you with my request. You are still there aren’t you Liz? Please tell me you didn’t just bring me here to have me watch you take a nap.” There was just a tinge of nervousness present within Ilyana though it manifest itself much more visibly due to Obtenebra’s inability to maintain the guise of clothing Ilyana had wanted it to. The Redeemer was on alert but hopeful that she didn’t come here for some fruitless affair.
  21. 2 points
    Cheezeegriff

    Golden Reaper [CLOSED]

    The crowd was getting a little impatient. Jon could see it on their faces, the way the rich fanned their ruddy cheeks, or the merchants drummed fingers on their arms. More and more pressed into the square in front of the auction tent to the point all the other tables were full. All except Jon’s. Something about his expression, perhaps, the half helm on the table and the claymore sprouting from his back like a crucifix had allowed him to keep his table all to himself. It was unintentional. A little amusing and probably for the best. At last, a small, wrinkly dwarf with a beard as fine as cobwebs stepped up to the dais in front of the auction tent and banged his cudgel on the lectern. “The auction will now begin,” he said in a voice as thick as his beard. “All items found on the land of one Mister Trodin Forkweathow, in the ruins of a monastary long buried. All of indecipherable age but probably dating back to the Caperium era. The first item is a set of daggers, in middling condition…” Jon tuned out. The crowd had turned mostly silent, and his boys had disappeared from sight, which was well and good. A silent crowd was hard to pick-pocket in, despite everyone’s attention being focussed on the dwarf and his assistant dwarf, who held up all the items for view. Jon’s heart started to race, and despite his calm demeanour he felt butterflies in his stomach. To pull this off he’d have to be ready at a moment’s notice.
  22. 1 point
    Mal had done plenty of thieving in his life. Hell, some of his first scores had been taking the wallets of unwary citizens on the streets of Last Chance. From there he had progressed to knocking over convenience store, holding up banks, and one memorable occasion where he had hijacked an airship. Then he had joined the military, become a spy, and specialized in stealing secrets rather than material goods. Unfortunately, he had been good at his job, and had learned things that made him a liability to some people withing the upper echelons of the Fracture Government. All of that had spiraled out of control and eventually led to the present, where he found himself standing on the deck of The Wreck. The boat was an old fishing vessel that had been crudely converted into a warship. Well, "crudely," wasn't quite true. Aphelion's techs had given it plenty of upgrades while being careful to make it look like something a bunch of criminals might be able to throw together. Today he was acting as the Captain of this vessel, and waiting for his first and second mates to arrive. @Chappu @Thotification
  23. 1 point
    Ashe_x_Attack

    New here!

    Hey! I'm Ashe! I go by They/Them pronouns! I'm 22! I have been roleplaying for nearly 10 years now and I absolutely love it! I hope this site treats me well and I hope to start on some stories soon!
  24. 1 point
    Summary A series of seemingly unconnected crimes take place over the span of a few hours; arson, petty theft, bank robbery, and a string of indiscriminate murders of opportunity. Reports from the crimes describe behavior which is odd even by local standards and foments civil unrest. One of the bank robbers is stopped and detained. Consequences A bar is burned down in the Banyan district An apothecary is robbed The Silverbrush Bank is robbed Several dozen citizens are killed by hydrogen cyanide gas; Adime has snatched additional hosts at the bar and the bank for redundancy's sake Civil unrest grows incrementally with concerns that the chaos is related to the Argentspire (the mountain transported from Yh'mi over 2 years ago) Local law enforcement gathers a slug from Gore for further research Opportunities Join the local police force Exploit the chaos and commit your own crimes Join Taen's R&D to learn from the slug sample taken at the scene of the crime with one of the bank robbers
  25. 1 point
    Mickey Flash

    Golden Reaper [CLOSED]

    As the auction was taking place the crowd had become quiet. Most of the young pickpockets had disappeared, understanding that this was not the time to bring attention to themselves. Jo was keeping one eye on the crowd and the other on the auction items. She didn't see anything that she felt the need to bid on with her hard earned money. Someone came in and began making obnoxious bids with a drunken slur. There was always one that appeared in every crowd. Jo shook her head at his overzealous bids. While the drunk left the tent for a moment, Jo thinking he was either going to throw up or use the bathroom, a new item came up for bid. The item was displayed to the best of its advantage, with a little story to go along with it. “This is the mysterious scroll. It is placed in a scroll container with a secret code to lock it. It has such a complex code that it has yet to be opened.” Jo was thinking to herself that the reason for that could be because no one here had actually tried to open it yet. “Who knows what could be inside!” Jo rolled her eyes. It could be an ancient grocery list. Still... it might not be. The bidding began for the item, and Jo lifted her finger to make a small bid while the item was affordable. She hoped no one else was interested.
  26. 1 point
    So I may or may not get to this tonight. Arrived at my parents' place to take a week off from work, and still settling in. That said, @Thotification, I will absolutely post by tomorrow
  27. 1 point
    supernal

    New here!

    Highly recommend checking out our new member guide. And with that said - welcome to Valucre! Feel free to message if you have any questions
  28. 1 point
    supernal

    Another raid OOC

    1) I'm fine with knowledge of all the skills enumerated. For specific knowledge about the named characters, I'm fine with general physical traits but not enough fidelity to, say, sketch their faces out. Thoughts? 2) Sounds good 3) I like the idea of the centaurs being hostile towards both parties as a baseline. If I can wiggle in a little nuance here I'd like to propose they be hostile-neutral towards Justice and hostile-hostile towards Abaddon. I think it both makes sense and is more intriguing to have any interactions with the centaurs require RP effort but also think that Justice has a bit better of a foot to put forward in any attempts to establish a dynamic. I think it fits nicely against "abaddon = villains but justice =! heroes". Thoughts? 4) I'd like it it to be through the fight please. For physical traits on Rodan (?) I'm fine with it being as generic as my own request in the above. I think the "raise status" tidbit of information is something we should fix as the result of RP effort since it seems like it would more naturally rise from interrogation and that'll be hard while they're on the hostile axis 5) This sounds absolutely delicious 6) Understood and it does make for a good plot device and, I think, a natural jumping point for Justice to "roll for charisma" to sway the centaurs towards a more positive direction from hostile-neutral (if you all agree to this)
  29. 1 point
    @HollowCipher I think that’s your cue 😏😏 But seriously though, that’s why I was saying sanity 2 and below to be changed. The current tables for Sanity 5, 4, and likely even 3 is fine.
  30. 1 point
    Rabbit

    New here!

    Welcome friend!
  31. 1 point
    supernal

    Breath of Fresh Air [OOC]

    Gotta say you make some good posts when you’re tired
  32. 1 point
    supernal

    It's kind of like a heist

    Exceptional btw
  33. 1 point
    Csl

    It's kind of like a heist

    @amenities by the way, what could realistically be learned about Gore since he's been captured? Is he one of Cain's risen dead puppets? If he dies does the black goo shrivel away, are the slugs a unique type of creature created specifically for the puppeteering? edit: also, is the puppet a Taen native or is he some dude from outside Taen brought into Taen?
  34. 1 point
    elixir

    A conversation with book titles

    Unless you're having a Midsummer Night's Dream, then all that 'ado' is really something.
  35. 1 point
    Meraxa

    A conversation with book titles

    Seems to be Much Ado About Nothing in all honesty
  36. 1 point
    Slime Mother

    Fallng Down the Rabbit Hole

    a small river separates a huge tree from the rest of the jungle.many colorful koi swim in the river.an entrance into the tree is created by carved..no,grown in this way ,creating an elegant arch way.
  37. 1 point
    One thing I want to see in a steampunk setting is a steam boat, probably needing to flee or chase down another boat, retract its paddle wheel(s), spin up a set of steam turbines, and engage the clutches on a couple of jet pumps.
  38. 1 point
    In her day, Elyah had been a skilled water bender. After being separated from her tribe in the deep woods of what is now known as Fracture, Elyah came upon a city of total abhorrence. "Tia," it had once been called, crawled with what must have been people years ago. The mutants had been twisted from an original state by a purple fog that exuded from behemoth plants that appeared to have wrestled all of Tia's great structures to the ground in an as-of-yet unsolved plague. She fought, ran, escaped her way to a once great Black Tower that was broken in half like a toothpick on the face of Valucre. Here, inside, Elyah found Him— or rather, He found Elyah. "And I'm sure she won't have a problem with sharing some of her newly aquired wealth" Now, snapping from her reverie as Dauner finished his casual attempt at extortion, a psionic line traced between the beautiful woman's innocently clasped hands and the liquid falling from Dauner's lap. A gentle blob of the alcohol paused, floating inches above the dirty bar floor on which the monocled man once laid. After all of what Dauner had said- the beautiful woman had been too lost in her lost past to remember what- the bartender percolated with suspicion. "Yeah sure," he muttered as the blob of liquid rose discretely from the floor and lingered beside the beautiful woman's head. Now was when he would have returned to the register and called the cops. "Why, wait," she said, raising her gloved, bejeweled hand in an apparent effort to reason. There would be no calling the cops, no reasoning. What happened next instead was as horrific as the woman was beautiful. It was immediate chaos. With a flick of her wrist at the man as if to rid the beautiful black suede of her delicate digits, the discretely floating blob of whiskey zinged at the bartender in a sharp line. Much to the shock and dismay of the bar crowd, the tender flailed backward as crimson sprayed out of the atomic line slit through his throat. With a slap of the delicate hand on the wet bar, the beautiful woman mounted the surface and slid with unnatural ease to the register. Statistics of Shrine City showed that there would be trouble from the general citizenry and she'd better be prepared. Her second brain, the one that was really in control, knew this in its premeditation of this day. One hand plunged in between two buttons of her jacket while the other withdrew a folded bag by the opened seam and flapped it open, jumping from the counter and hipping into the closed register hard enough to dent and break it against the wall behind. Withdrawing a very familiar sawed-off with one hand, she put the bag in the same hand, holding the bag between finger and trigger as she grabbed the whole register tray and dumped it into the bag. As she loaded the bag, the first to attempt to hinder the prime suspect in the bartender's murder was upon her. Soon, an observant onlooker might guess, the weight of the bag would weigh her finger down and— BANG! The beautiful woman blew one shell and his brains out all over the nearest barstool denizens still in shock from the first murder. Unlike last time the beautiful woman, for all she knew, was still all alone in her uncivil unrest; so this bar she would leave standing. Stamping on the bar in one leap, jumping over the bloodied who were most shocked and least likely to anticipate her vaulting over them, the beautiful woman was out the door zipping down the canal on her waver before most people could even understand what was happening. Dauner would surely be shocked that her smalltime crime would so quickly measure up to two cases of manslaughter, but two things were imminently clear: 1) there was about to be a lot more trouble in Shrine City and 2) he still had time to join.
  39. 1 point
    Akako Akari

  40. 1 point
    supernal

    Breath of Fresh Air [OOC]

    Sounds like exciting and exhausting had some offspring!
  41. 1 point
    Gil

    Breath of Fresh Air [OOC]

    I am so so sorry. This week was just crap. I work independently as an artist and art instructor, and my schedule just fluctuates a lot. Doing my own work, applying to teach for summer again and hopefully next semester. And I started working as an assistant to a more established artist on the side; I spent the majority of this week organizing a year’s worth of receipts and bank statements for this guy’s taxes, but I finally finally finished that last night, and then slept for 12 hours. I really don’t want to take a whole week to post next time
  42. 1 point
    Now̴̞̝͊͝ KI̴͇̖̍̈Ḷ̴̱͗͝L Ordé̶̪͚̋r̶̛͚̫͂ ̵͖̫̓͝ MU̸͈̓̀S̴̾͑T. S̞͔̱͉̯̬̲ta̝̘͎͉r̳͇̩̜t̪ ̯̣̺̫͟ F̖͓͇̺͉̤id̶̪̟̟̪̪̱̖ẹ͡l̤̰͙̺i̮̭͓̤̹̱ṯ̛̫̬a̯͍̬͚̠̫ş̹̳̮ The attack of the dark child against Gormaric was accompanied by a psychic, a mental blow as well. Combined with the continual, blasted buzzing that this place exuded... the last vestiges of the ebon knight's sanity were eroded away. The voice of Lun'silth, heard by Gormaric only in the echo of an memory... it was clear now, a new order given. The fall of the Order could and would begin here. Fidelitas would not expect a blow from a trusted ally. It would be enough to distract him and have him fall to the dark entities all about this place. With one blow, the dominoes would topple. The mission that Remissio had undertaken would begin anew, carried out by one of the causes of the mission's previous failure... a perfect irony. Gormaric raised himself off the ground, using Shadowfang to help him along. Once he stood fully, the black blade erupted into ebon flames, and the ebon knight approached the paladin of the Order... no... No... NO! Eri let out a confused growl as she watched Gormaric. This noise, somehow, echoed in his mind and caught his attention. It was wrong. This was wrong. The Order was not his enemy. He did not serve the will of Lun'silth. He closed his eyes, concentrating his full effort on regaining control and clarity in his mind. The efforts paid off, with some sense of clarity restored. The voice of Lun'silth and the desire to strike at Fidelitas was also eradicated. The ebon knight now opened his eyes and took stock of the situation. It was looking a little better, with the shadowy figure of the father dead. All they needed to do now was follow suit with the mother, and then that dark child that had struck at him. If the dark whispers continued to reform like they had when the first batch was destroyed... they were an annoyance, but not worth the effort to destroy. To strike out... no, not yet. Gormaric still needed to bring back some clarity to himself before he could properly strike back. He closed his eyes once more. This was quite possibly a mistake, as a fresh of wave pain shot through Gormaric's head. The ebon knight clenched his free hand so hard that blood began to drip through the gauntlet and onto the ground below. Eri let out a sound of concern, maintaining a position of vigilance whilst being angry about her helplessness in this situation. She couldn't protect her master from either these enemies or the forces that assailed him from within. What use was she, then? Frederick, meanwhile, fell into despair as his shield wall began to crumble. One of his Subversors threw herself in front of the Dark Whisper, her attempt to block the ethereal attack being to no avail. However, she came off much worse than Frederick himself did. Taking the brunt of the attack? Rivulets of black blood started flowing down from the joints in her armor, and there was an expression of fear as she looked toward her leader. "Ma... Major..." Then, she collapsed to the ground, lifeless. "Amelia..." Fredrick spoke a string of expletives under his breath. She was a young soldier, a recent recruit to the Subversors that had quickly proved her skill and worth. To fall in a place like this, to die in such a way... no, this dark land had to pay for extinguishing such bright souls as hers. But before he could do much more, the dark child came hurtling forward, a punch aimed at Frederick's head... but before he could make contact, another of his Subversors leapt forward to take the blow. Even through the forged Uru helm, the force of the blow sent Sir Gilliam's head flying back with enough force to shatter his skull and snap his neck. Gilliam was dead before his body hit the ground. The other two Subversors, Oswin and Bors, had sustained wounds that forced them onto one knee, but they still did the best they could to hold the shield wall intact. Frederick, meanwhile, began to cough up blood and collapsed to his knees. The Subversors and their leader were on the verge of death. A good blow from any of their enemies would spell their end, unless they received healing swiftly. But they would not go without doing at least one thing more... gathering together what power they could, Frederick and the Subversors made the power of the Inanis manifest once more, the protective dark purple auras once more forming around the weakest allies in the room... including the Subversors themselves. It would have to do. It would have to hold...
  43. 1 point
    I have reached the witching hour, Somewhere near halfway. The next is full of who knows what, For it is another day. -Michael Anslow.
  44. 1 point
    The Thunder Tyrant

    Writing and Publishing AMA 1.0

    @Vansin I use a "launchpad" approach to prewriting. I'll world-build, character sketch, and outline until I feel like I have a sufficient mass of material, and then I start writing whether or not my outline is complete. If it is, great; if it isn't, I'll work off of what I have from that foundation and then complete the outline when the shape of the story reveals itself to me. My "complete" outlines are basically bullet-lists of scenes: a couple of sentences to describe each scene/story beat and nothing else. I can't quantify "sufficient mass" except that I know it when it happens because I'll lose interest in things like world-building and start thinking more about how I want to shape my prose. For short stories, I'll sketch an outline just to have my thoughts on paper and then go from there. I do all of my prewriting work in notebooks, even if I draft on a computer. It lets me write while at work and I tend to do a lot of visualization work (circling, line drawing, marginalia, etc). I've tried testing some of the prewriting methods other authors suggest -- like Ingermahson's snowflake approach -- but they never offer as much as working through my thoughts and ideas and letting the story take shape naturally. They might be more beneficial to writers who want to outline methodically, though, so I don't discount them.
  45. 1 point
    Die Shize

    [Skarr Clan] Mouths to Feed

    OOC Music Veron’s gaze diverted from Khrol to receive Kinsmeet’s first two guests, the individuals who had arrived ahead of the advancing force, Thril and Vito. Their arrival into the village had been something of subterfuge, but at the present time their approach was quite hard to miss. They came upon a drake, or whatever the beast truly was amid its shapeshifting ways, and were otherwise alone. Rattleneck was no doubt still inside the hall house. Veron received the other two with little more than a look with an eye that beheld naked treasure at the same time as peering for more. Thril was a walking ornament; the sight of her brought a sentiment to Veron that Khrol appeared to share with, but the former was more auspicious than amused. Thril wasn’t quite like the other Rats in her company. Beyond being a Gutter, there was something different about her that didn’t go unnoticed. This one is an explorer. The world is waiting for ones like her. Vito, on the other hand, was an enigma behind his white mask. Veron wondered what mysteries he had further unraveled in the home of the lords of Kinsmeet. And how many of those mysteries will he share with his company? How many will he keep to himself? Those questions would be answered later. For now, Vito quickly caught onto one reason why he had been summoned. The boulder had been a solid stone as befit the name, thick and tall and unmovable. Now it moved. Amid a chorus from within, the outer rock cracked and fractured and broke down into a little hill of sand, all in a matter of moments. The parallel wasn’t lost on Veron as he smiled at what he saw. “Witness, all who watch. Kinsmeet was this boulder. It was here one moment and gone the next. Strong, as long as it was standing. When you take away its guardians and its walls...no support. It collapses under its proud weight and slumps into a heap of nothing.” Veron sighed with satisfaction, though glee was tingling his skin. Khrol held up his hand just then, and for a moment Veron was concerned if it was to halt the entire intention. It was all he could do to watch the Seer and wait. Those shifty eyes went this way and that way, and the brain inside the sorcerer’s skull was an unseen cauldron that boiled and bubbled concoctions of plague and punishment. Veron could only wonder, but he could make out enough to know that the Grey Seer was figuring out whether to storm the village hall or burn it to the ground. Slaves, Skysplitter. Your foods are troves, your books are treasures, but slaves are living trophies. Veron’s head lifted at the Seer’s speech, anticipating a refusal. In the end, the Black Captain’s lips curved upward like a blade beneath tissue. The Grey Seer’s fury was not to be unleashed on this particular structure. “You don’t feed slaves, Khrol. Slaves feed you.” With that, Veron looked from his troops to Vito and Thril, casting them a signal that served as a request for them both to accompany him if they so desired. Vito was at least already up for it. Thril might enjoy it no less. Then he squeezed the reins of his horse and jabbed his boots against Blade’s sides. The courser whinnied and bolted forth, halting only to kick its foremost hooves forward and break apart the doors that led into the village hall. OOC Music The crash of wood and the swing of doors made many a villager jump in fright. They were all a huddle of whimpering children, sobbing women and men whose bravery was held by a thread, and they all of them pressed into each other like a herd of sheep surrounded by wolves as their guests played the part. Midnight took his panther to the left, Maul with his goat to the right, and behind each officer went a line of Brave Spears and hobgoblin sellswords on horses. In moments, the villagers were a little blob within a ring, like the pupil of an eye. Amid the weapons of his troops that were readied to move at a moment’s notice, Veron held the needle to poke that pupil at his every whim. He hadn’t budged his horse far from the hall’s entrance after forcing it open, gazing down at the terrified souls from the height of his saddle. His eye roved around them, that face and this one, her tears and his, boy and girl and man and woman, young and old. You saw a building, Khrol, but I see the builders. He held up his hand, slowly and gently, careful not to move too quickly and break a damsel’s heart. “Residents of Kinsmeet,” Veron called to the crowd. Many of them gazed his way. Some were still staring at the mean faces of orange hobgoblins, or at the mercenaries who only minutes ago had sallied forth to defend those whom they were now pointing spears at. “Residents of Kinsmeet!” That got their attention. “I am Veron Blacktear—I ride under the banner of the Lost Scions, that strip of cloth you see with a red eye and a black crown—and today we ride under the banner of Skarr Clan, your conquerors.” He nodded at a nearby Rat who had joined the breach, one who held a banner of his own. OOC Music “You are beaten, Kinsmeeters. We have won. You have lost. But you need not lose your lives…” Letting his words sink in, Veron reached into a pocket and came out with a pile of nuts in the palm of his glove. He tossed one between his lips and cracked its shell. His eye wandered over the sheep once more, and suddenly his teeth stopped chewing as his eye stopped looking. “You!” The recipient of his word, a man with a bald head in the middle of the crowd, didn’t move. “Yes, you. Step forward.” Still the man did not move. So Veron nodded at his officers who nodded at their hobgoblins who dismounted with spears in hand. They formed a semicircle behind the villagers, but the tips of their spears were facing aside their wielders instead of in front. It was the hafts that played their part, the hobgoblins sending a well placed shove against the herd and jostling the sheep forward and into one another. “The next time my troops’ spears move, you will find blades touching your bodies instead of hafts, and our blades are sharp.” The startled sheep had just leveled up in compliance. Children still wept, a little boy balling his lungs out. Veron ignored him for now. “Let’s try this again. You with the bald head. Step to the front or I will drag you to it. You choose.” Finally, the man came forward. As he stepped into view, his outfit did too. His colors were simple green and brown, but their material was rich; clean-cut cotton and wool and a jade cloak. The outfit was telling, the bald head too, but it was the man’s eyes that had betrayed him. “Lord Halgo Richmond, we meet again.” Veron tossed another nut into his mouth with pleasure. Halgo didn’t move, just stood there staring up, but where once his height had matched Veron’s saddle for saddle, and where once his countenance had been crumpled into confidence, the lordling was now little more than a little mouse. “And here I am in your presence once again. Not bad...for a 'rodent'. Yet your brother is not. I wonder, what did Lord Iggo have to say before he left the realm of the living?” With that, Veron turned his head toward where Vito might have been, the only soul of two who might have heard those last words in order to relay them.
  46. 1 point
    Slime Mother

    Fallng Down the Rabbit Hole

    entering the inside of the dome is a virtual jungle full of exotic plants. a small stone path leads you through the thick foliage
  47. 1 point
    Liz’s scoff was only met with even more determination as Ilyana was unwilling to compromise on her request given the stakes at hand. She had expected Liz to protest or use some sort of excuse to attempt to finagle her way out of it but was surprised by the sudden pivot into agreement. The fact that she was willing to set aside her previous hesitation and comply only managed to earn her favor now as they made their way into this room that Ilyana understood could only be accessed by Elizabeth herself. Ilyana was not oblivious to the concessions that were being offered and found it rare enough to appreciate…at least this time. "It is necessary that you understand that I am doing this by request as a business courtesy, more or less, as a show of what Ventrix Technologies can offer the world." Ilyana simply nodded and waited for Elizabeth to continue only to be surprised at the synthetic frame that the woman revealed underneath her lab coat. Such technology was not unheard of but Ilyana had never witnessed it firsthand. The way that tissue intertwined with metal along her frame was wonderful and Ilyana found herself ogling out of sheer curiousity. Some may have given themselves to disgust here but she was thankful for her upbringing in Hell’s Gate and for the technological wonders her city had allowed her to witness. She continued to analyze everything and how it moved or connected with Elizabeth’s frame. “My my…I didn’t know things would get this intimate. This satisfies me in a way I never thought it would Elizabeth.” The sight of Elizabeth was jolting for sure but Ilyana in stride decided to reveal something about herself that few could ever discern much less deserved to witness. Obtenebra rippled into view and then receded into Ilyana’s skin, covering solely her breasts and just enough of her hips to maintain some modicum of modesty. She slowly moved around to allow Elizabeth to use whatever methods of scanning she desired to prove she wasn’t compromised though the existence of the amorphous ooze within her was something she felt had to be explained. “My companion is tied to every portion of my body. He…or…she…or it was a gift from a very dear friend of mine meant to protect me from the dangers around me.” Obtenebra slowly began to come back and reform into a now loose flowing dress around Ilyana that offered her the chance to move with a bit more agility. “One of these dangers is the root cause of my personal visit today. While I admit that I also came here to gauge how well our partnership can develop, urgency leads me to act on whatever capital I already have with you. Now that I am sure you are at least not compromised physically, I feel I can trust you with this request. I need your bright mind to engineer a method to identify the Enrele that have been plaguing the cities of our nation. They are a threat that must be managed and I cannot trust the Terran government to tackle it alone.” Ilyana moved into a position where she could see Elizabeth’s face which had been elevated. The Redeemer felt she needed to address this matter now before she could even begin thinking about what other business matters she needed to discuss with this peculiar woman before her.
  48. 1 point
    Ilyana listened concerning the status of the Hell’s Gate lab, nodding in acknowledgment and agreement. This network of communication she was beginning to establish with a variety of key individuals needed to be safeguarded but she silently knew she would ensure that the Ventrix presence in her city was heavily monitored. Swirling black eyes scrutinized the vials of colorless liquid before her. She could sense the runic structure as she slid her fingers across each one. Visually they were not all that appealing and the logo alone would not be enough to increase their customer base. Many have strayed away from considering Ventrix as a necessity in their lives. The Redeemer knew she had much to do to change that. “As long as the length of the boon is enough to get many through their daily tasks then this is acceptable or if the weakened state can be recovered from quickly then that is easily marketable. We need these products to be effective enough to give anyone an advantage in whatever field they are in. This competition will force those who do not adopt the product to reconsider as others excel in their fields.” Ilyana assumed Patton already knew such things, her words more of a declaration of her stance on one of the ways she wished to market the product than a demand. The unexpected rumbling and sounds of moving objects caused the black fabric of her attire to ripple along her hip briefly, revealing to a keen eye that Ilyana was not wearing just a simplistic outfit. The movement was so brief, however, that it could have easily been mistaken by a shift in the light in this room. As the true lab was shown to her, Ilyana arched a brow and kept silent for a bit as she walked forward. She was mildly impressed but given her expectation of Elizabeth’s abilities the amazement did not last long. "You're safe here to speak off of the record Ms. Sevryn. Go ahead." “Before I discuss what I need to, I will need to verify I can trust you Elizabeth.” She lifted her right hand, palm facing Liz before she continued. “I will need you to disrobe and prove to me that you are not compromised in any way” The serious expression along her face made her request even odder but she made sure to continue. “Once you enter what I assume is your private chamber here, we will both confirm we are not compromised. What I need to ask you requires intimate trust as it could affect the lives of everyone in Terrenus.”
  49. 1 point
    Travel to and from Casper to manage her latest investment into Ventrix had been tiresome but necessary. She believed Ventrix to be key in expanding her reach and would not stand for remaining idle for any important decision that needed to be made. Her visits to the main facility were sporadic and usually unannounced as she wanted to make sure that everyone remained vigilant and stayed true to what had been agreed on concerning the company’s future. Entering through the lobby she purposefully refrained from participating in any pleasantries, letting those who escorted her throughout the building attempt to pander but failing miserably. There was a steely focus in her black eyes that intimidated some and disoriented others as all they would receive were curt responses or gesticulations as she signed the agreement after thoroughly reviewing it and then was led rather swiftly toward Elizabeth’s office. Ilyana seemed to be travelling alone, adorned with yet another shimmering black outfit that seemed tailored for a business meeting. It clung to her but was modest in appearance with a skirt length that was just above the knee. Despite how constricting the attire might have seemed, Ilyana seemed to have no problem moving through the halls and into Liz’s office. Ilyana’s gaze quickly met hers but there was no smile to be offered. Instead, Ilyana started to speak with a leveled tone that attempted to coax Elizabeth right into business. “I know you have likely been engrossed in your work so I do not intend to waste anyone’s time here. I’ve come here to assess what you have done thus far, tour most of your lab, and then I have a special request that needs to be discussed solely between you and I in private. Let’s get started immediately with the items you promised before shall we?” Ilyana stared at Liz, standing as she had not been offered a seat nor was she aware of how prepared Liz was in this room. It was clear that she wanted to get the obvious items out of the way immediately and focus on what she had truly come here to discuss but that did not mean that she would not give equal consideration for all of the items on the agenda. What Liz had already tirelessly worked on was just as important as anything else today.
  50. 0 points
    P.N.See

    Dice Rolling Thread

    Fine! Oh great and terrible Tim, destroyer of world (and my patience in particular) - PLEASE CALM D- Actually, no. Attempting to reassure the child. (d10 for success, d6 for bonus) ...Natural 1. By my calculations, THAT HURT
×
×
  • Create New...