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  1. 7 points

    What's Your Worst RP Experiance?

    Dumb shit from previous sites, let’s see. *plops brick of a file on desk* That one comp fight where every single one of their posts began with ‘I heal, then....’ no exceptions. I go to bed and wake up to the thread push almost 20 posts and marked concluded. Then they try to get me to accept that my character has been blasted into space. Get a character entered into a tourney without me volunteering. Decided fuck it, let’s see where it goes. Lose in judgement with the stated reason being shit I did in a previous tourney. *Flips through the rest of brick* Yeah, at this point I’d rather just beat people and their peanut gallery over the head with the AMP. It’s just more fun with a target rich environment.
  2. 6 points
    *swaggers in*
  3. 6 points

    Arsenos Myrmidon

    Legatus Arsenos Myrmidon, Anax of Ashes, Oathblade of Light Arsenos Myrmidon PERSONAL Name: Arsenos Myrmidon Race: Human Male Age: 30 Birthplace: Heliopolis, Ursa Madeum Occupation: Heliopolitan Anax, Legatus Tribii under House Arcos PHYSICAL Height: 6’6” Weight: 245 lbs Hair: Shoulder-length and blonde, pulled back and loosely braided. Skin: Light Bronze Eyes: Gray Build: Lean and well-muscled, extremely athletic. Voice: Notably accented and of low tone, often tautened by anger or impatience. MENTAL Temperament: Choleric MBTI: ENTJ Hailing from the once-gleaming city of Heliopolis, Anax Arsenos Myrmidon is a bitter and vengeful man of six feet and thirty years. During Taen's invasion of Thrace he was assigned to counsel House Arcos personally in Noviria, sparing him the fate of his family and countrymen- a fact that brings him nothing but shame and anger. Arsenos is a cunning and ruthlessly effective general, giving credence to the reputation of his blood. His cohort acts as a vanguard, fighting to reclaim the glory of his people from the front- some of whom yet fight by his side in full Heliopolitan regalia. The Anax himself dons a striking set of heirloom armor that he pulled from the ashes of his family's estate in Heliopolis, one which dates back to the earliest years of House Myrmidon's eminence. Ornate and resplendent, the ancient metal was released from an age-gained patina in the conflagration of Heliopolis, and is now polished to an almost blinding reflectivity in direct sunlight- lending him the appearance of a wrathful demi-god reborn and set upon the field of battle. With great restraint he wields Aether, Oathblade of Light, found at last among the smoldering embers of the Heliopolitan Temple of the Sun.
  4. 6 points
    [Bar > The Great Hall] After making a round to the bar for two drinks, he decided to carry the third one with him. Perhaps the bar was too much of a cliche for him to get comfortable in for such a grandiose event. The Knight strolled casually through the door from wince he entered and traversed the halls in reverse fashion to how he had arrived. Before he could allow himself to mingle any longer, he decided it was best to go ahead and pay his respects to the bride and the groom. Not wanting to have come in the first place was a poor excuse to be disrespectful. He'd become relaxed enough to not notice sooner, though as he moved to enter the hall, it appeared a familiar cast was set before him. Not just one or two of them, but the small family all together. It was obvious since the last time he'd seen any of them months ago, things had changed quite a bit. Grant seemed to have a different woman on his side, her belly filled with spirit, though in a completely different way then his own predicament. "Despite the fact that you all look great, it appears that I should try and visit a bit more often." The brawny, babyface Knight charmingly mused as a soft smile accented his expression. His knowing, narrowed charcoal eyes hesitated on the expecting mother briefly before looking back over all of them. "A lot has changed since I last seen you. It seems that in the wake of great conflict, once again your people rise from the ashes. It warms me to see." He wanted to ask about Kotori, though another part of him wanted to avoid asking altogether. He still cared, he wanted to be aware of her and her life, though his career, no, his life style simply was too difficult to pair with raising a child. Alone at that. Still, he should go see her soon. After all, tomorrow was never promised, and this Knight had found enough regrets in his currently brief life. @Malintzin @danzilla3 @The Hound
  5. 6 points
    OKAY, I'M HERE. So I'm in my fourth run with work today, tomorrow being my fifth (WOOOO!), and that's why I've basically been MIA. I am slowly catching up! I will touch on some posts tonight (6/2), and I will get to the pm's I've received over the last few days. Thanks for your patience with me, I greatly appreciate it ❤️
  6. 6 points

    The Frontier

    Pulse: Hub of the Frontier Canyon City, Tu Bui The Frontier is a civilian, Terran-based project created to send scientists, explorers, and colonists to settle in Taen. Tracing its roots back to a powerful business syndicate, the initiative derives most of its funding from a tightly-knit group of privately held corporations. Its ultimate goal is to establish a permanent presence in Taen as a means of capitalizing on its resources and studying its interdimensional nature. Geography Topography Directly to the north of Pulse lies one end of the mountain quadrant, host to a vast subterranean network that remains largely unexplored. To the south and west stretch miles of vibrant jungle, with generous quantities to the east bordering the edge of Taen. Cityscape Pulse is a bustling city despite its relative infancy, nestled in a jungle plain near the southern end of Taen’s mountain range. Thick, armoured walls, roughly fifty feet in height, surround it on all fronts with the exception of the mountainside acting as a natural blockade. A singularly monolithic tower, which can be seen scraping the sky from miles away, resides at the city’s core while functioning as the Frontier’s main base of operations. Known as the Sanctum, it was modelled after the colossal micro-cities of Hell’s Gate, being internally self-sustaining with regards to energy, food, water, and waste disposal. The majority of its facilities are purely utilitarian, being dedicated to industry and scientific research rather than entertainment and leisure. A heavily-guarded mining district controls the northern section of Pulse, regulating access to the underground highway leading directly beneath the mountains. Expeditions haven’t ventured far but what’s been explored of the cave network has been appropriated by the Frontier. Fungi farms have been especially successful, in addition to fisheries built along subterranean lakes. Pulse isn’t large enough to warrant too many roadways, so it relies on a rail and shuttle system for public transportation throughout the city. The Sanctum, likewise, operates on elevators and automated walkways, with security and maintenance staff getting access to carts and freight shafts. Colonial One, Adriaan224 Climate Pulse enjoys a tropical climate, remaining comfortably warm throughout the year. Peak temperatures occur during the summer with heavy rainfalls frequenting the winter. Depending on the time of day, certain parts of the city will experience cooler temperatures, as the Sanctum’s shadow is so utterly massive that it can blanket entire districts for hours at a time. Culture The first settlers of the Frontier were recruited from the best and brightest Terrenus had to offer. Combined with the regimented nature of their environment, they developed a society that values efficiency and solidarity. Residents are typically passionate about their work, drawn by the promise of adventure in an alien world, with unemployment being virtually nonexistent due to the Frontier’s meticulous handle over its own resources. Newcomers tend to be of a similarly high caliber, since the organization relies on a stringent screening process upon immigration. It’s also wary of third-party businesses, allowing few to set up shop without strict supervision. Crime is extremely low but has seen a minor spike as of late, likely as a result of a rapidly-expanding infrastructure offering more wiggle room in terms of deviance. There is a general air of caution concerning Taen’s native population. This is primarily due to tensions between the Frontier and the Veluriyam Empire threatening to boil over into hostility. The Director of Colonial Affairs has made an effort to quell any feelings of animosity, having recently launched a campaign to foster better relationships with outsiders. Limited work opportunities are not uncommon as a result, with benefits including free education and temporary housing. The public’s reaction has been mostly positive so far, though a clear sense of division still lingers in the air, making it difficult for outsiders to truly fit in or feel like they belong. Racial Demographic (Population of 250,000) Human: 70% Elf: 10% Robotic: 10% Draconian: 5% Other: 5% Economy Pulse is entirely self-sufficient and continues to grow at a staggering rate, thanks to the Sanctum’s vast array of facilities and the abundance of materials found in the local environment. The city is not infinitely wealthy, however, and has to be careful about how to manage its resources. Ventures beyond the walls tend to be far and few in between but with fairly high profit margins to offset their scarcity. Lab-grown food remains a staple in most diets. High-yield carbohydrates and textured proteins are especially prevalent. Pulse’s farming industry is still young and learning how to properly harvest from the environment, so natural ingredients are rare and, more often than not, fairly expensive. As the central hub of the Frontier, Pulse is also responsible for many of the initiative’s smaller settlements. Trade occurs almost exclusively on this level without touching the Veluriyam Empire whatsoever. Business with Terrenus is sporadic due to the impractical nature of warp travel. This usually manifests in the form of a rare supply shipment at important junctures to cultiave Pulse's continued growth. Frontier technology is easily the most advanced in all of Taen. Even by Terran standards, the project could be considered cutting edge to the point of fantasy. Recyclers, devices capable of breaking down materials into their raw, individual components, are the unsung heroes of the current generation. Fusion power and AI are just as important in the maintenance of infrastructure, while breakthroughs in medicine have radicalized developments in the average citizen’s health. Currently, the city’s biggest endeavour is learning how to master worldrift energy. Credit: Kenneth Fairclough, Fred Augis, Oliver Guiney Government For all intents and purposes, Pulse’s government is the Frontier’s government. It is run by Director Richard Tanenbaum with the aid of a small council comprised of Pulse’s departmental heads. Council: Director, Richard Tanenbaum Superintendent, Luyn Kaigal Head of Research and Development, Mark Chowdhurry Chief of Security, Javier Ibaka Director of Colonial Affairs, Eileen Zhang Security The Frontier came to Taen with its own privately funded military, a small force that makes up for its size with state-of-the-art technology. Soldiers both protect the city from exterior threats and police it from within. Anyone entering or exiting the city must pass through quarantine and security without exception. 6000 soldiers 30 destroyer-class airships 20 Ogre Assault Mechs 50 suits of power armour Notable Locations Within the Sanctum > The Lift – the largest and most central set of elevators. Authorization, often presented in the form of a security pass, is required to access certain floors. > Residential Blocks A, B, C, D, E – living quarters clustered in densely populated common areas. They come in a variety of pods, cabins, or luxury apartments depending on a person’s rank within the Sanctum. > Skywalk – located near the upper floors, Skywalk is essentially a giant balcony protruding from the microcity’s trunk. All manner of entertainment is found here, as the area is solely recreational. Invisible forcefields prevent people from falling over the railing and down a kilometre-long drop. They also help to maintain a comfortable temperature at an altitude that would otherwise be considered freezing. Artists: Gary Inloes, Kory Lynn Hubbel Outside the Sanctum > Miru Highway – a guarded thoroughfare located within the northern mining district, extending two miles beneath the mountains with several branching pathways along its length. The subterranean portion is lit by a mixture of artificial and natural lighting, the latter existing in the form of lightstones and bioluminescent flora. Fungi and fish farms can be found here. > Arboretum – a small patch of jungle preserved during Pulse’s construction, and a hotspot among locals looking for a quiet escape from the city's hustle and bustle. It is located directly beside the southern section of the walls. There’s been talk about potentially doubling the area as an open zoo. > Saiko District – a flashy commercial and business centre with a strong sense of cultural diversity. Widely regarded as the best place to go for food, shopping, leisure and entertainment. History Beginning in mid 595 WTA, Richard Tannenbaum sent agents to investigate the portals leading to Taen through the Blue Hills. One of these portals was discovered to be stable, remaining active for a set few hours during the day. It opened onto a wide open plain straddling the line between Taen’s jungle and mountain quadrants. Tannenbaum hired a select few companies to go there in secret and begin construction of a massive warp pad, while development of the Sanctum took place in an isolated corner of Hell’s Gate. In 597 WTA, the warp pad was used to teleport the now-completed Sanctum to its location, anchoring the micro-city in place after expending its single-use charge. From there, the Sanctum was able to start building the wall that would cement its foothold in Taen. The territory was later renamed as Pulse once the community outside the Sanctum had grown to a significant size. Lunaris took notice of Pulse’s presence when scouts reported the sudden appearance of a massive tower overnight. Many believed the Frontier to be an extended arm of the Terran military. Suspicions, despite a few lackluster efforts, have not been put to rest since, and the Frontier's unapologetic efforts at expansion have left the Veluriyam Empire concerned. Potential WIP
  7. 5 points
    L E V I A T H A N

    Casus Belli

    "Ave, Centurion." "What is it?" He reciprocated, not bothering to wave or gesture to the legionnaire. "Our Dominus tasks myself, you and Arsenos, his strategoi in tow, with intercepting House Plovdiv. She suggests a Novirian Welcome. We are to bring them to the feast and remain aware." He spoke this and was off to address the incoming House. It seemed as though Arsenos was already on the way, with his troupe of commanders foreshadowing his exit from the segmented tentspace. A nod given was reciprocated, to which Keraunos re-pinned his cloak and moved forward, helm grabbed from the table nearest him and pulled over hanging tresses of braided, some dreaded and decorated, hair. A sharp whistle roused the ears of a handful of men who had previously been stationed by the combat space for oversight. He barked an order for them to move along and remain unseen until they were to arrive. With this, Keraunos pulled his helmet on and exhaled sharply. Footstep after footstep delivered him to Arsenos' side, and then past him. It was not a matter of superiority, so much as it was his powerful gait moved him. A glance to Arsenos was made finally as he slowed his stride just before arriving. "A Novirian Welcome is in order. You know what to do. Legatus, you are with Tacitus and myself. " His voice and eyes directed themselves to the strategoi; he knew the Myrmidon men would likely lack a response or even an immediate reaction, but it was to be heard and heeded -- he was sure Arsenos would indulge and follow through. If he did not, he would miss his chance to present himself along with the giant of a man and their guide. Regardless of the outcome or responses, worn caligae slowed firmly to a halt as Tacitus stood firmly on attention. "Presenting: Lord Boris, Tsar of House Plovdiv. " he began, standing ahead of Keraunos and Arsenos -- who stood side by side while the guests to the gathering were addressed. They gave the steeds and their riders no true personal space, standing within reach of the steeds. "Our Legatus Tribii and one of our finest among the Primi Ordines receive you." As the steeds dug at the earth and exhaled from the long ride across the island, Keraunos found one of them - Boris' horse, specifically - to be eyeballing and trying to fix its glance on him. The Centurion narrowed his gaze from within his helmet and stepped even closer, placing a massive hand on the horse's head. A gentle stroke. Firm digits raising sweaty fur from its cling to the beast's flesh. Beasts always had a way of acknowledging the veteran, and not always was it in the kindest ways. A gentle wrench of the bridle was made before a pat to the horse's jowls and a step back was made. Meanwhile, those under Keraunos who had been called upon now waited out of sight, ready to spring at the right time. "The West receives you, Lord.. but if your horse looks at me again like it did, you might have to find another way home.. Nevertheless, we Welcome you." A smile found his face in this moment, allowing Arsenos to take over on formalities, as one of his status ought. The men would lay in waiting for Arsenos and Keraunos' signal -- a whistle. A fairly common sound when growing up among the mountains and foothills.
  8. 5 points

    The Gates of Disorder

    "Right. Let's not keep your pals waitin' any longer." Hawk replied, shooting Addison a subtle glance and nod of confirmation as he turned to the door. Without a another word the marshal gestured with his head for Tenkai to follow, leading the monk out of the room, through the winding halls, up the stairs and back to the courtyard, his fingers still wrapped around the strap of his SHR-51. As the two made their way through the tall stone halls, soldiers of all origins had gathered along the walls as they watched in amazement. Seeing someone from another world was a first for them all, for previously the very idea of other dimensions seemed rather far-fetched. Upon reaching the courtyard everything was just as they had left it. Though no long were the men on guard fixing their firearms on the portal. In fact, the only guns still fixed on it were that of the Atlesian war wagons, wagons plated with thick steel plates and mounted gatling guns. "We're going in." Hawk called out to the commanding officer on duty as the two men made their way out of the main fortress and to the portals front. "Make sure nobody follows us in until we get back." "Sir, yes sir." The captain confirmed. @Tenkai Matsumoto
  9. 5 points
    They say time is money. What then, if one has an unlimited amount of one of them. Does the other increase proportionately? Can the rich become immortal, and the immortal rich? Illisandra didn't have to ponder the question. Both had always been hers to claim. Tick tick tick The clock made its rounds, but the Nobelwoman paid it no mind. She'd not admit it, but she was a Nobel in her eyes only, as far as the modern Era was concerned. A long forgotten house, a long forgotten kingdom. Even now, her castle had only recently been rebuilt. She was yet a farcry from the splendor of a dead and buried age. She sat in her office, a rented space for her to work in here at the guild, perched with supple legs crossed and wine glass in hand, various documents dominating her attention. So much red tape and bureaucracy. Laws and loopholes to organize and exploit. The standard battlefield of a business woman. Despite the tedium of it all, the golden eyed vampire smiled. It was a subtle thing, the slight curl of satin lips and half-hooded, mocha colored eyelids. Smug and self-assured, the perfect expression of one with blind arrogance and fragile pride. Suddenly, the door to the office opened. A little birdy flapped in, a dark raven whose passage left behind inky stains in the air that quickly disappeared. It whispered in her ear, and that smug smile widened. Ah, an investment made long ago might finally be paying its dividends. "Bring her." a clear command in a confident, husky voice. The familiar did not wait for more instruction. Priscilla did not wait long. The minute hand moved, and the familiar appeared before her, hovering on familiar shadow magic. "My Mistress, the Majestic Illisandra Ravenstone, requests your presence. You will follow, yes?" the tiny raven squeaked in a cute voice, one it seemed to struggle to evoke.
  10. 4 points

    Broken Souls Come Together

    "-why we should all take a moment to ponder the absurd circumstances which require genius intellect or thorough study to comprehend," Addison swiftly interjected in alarm, planting her hand firmly on Hawk's shoulder (which looked ridiculous, given their difference in height). Turning him around, she quickened their pace before chirping loudly and purposely, "You are absolutely right, Hawk. There is no time to waste and we should get to work immediately." As they left the corridor, Addison turned around briefly to meet James' eyes, a painful wince accompanied by an apologetic squint and the hardly noticeable glint of gratitude in her eyes. Too much emotion, too little time to convey. They really needed to stop meeting like this.
  11. 4 points
    Lucid Dream

    White Sands, The Great Hunt

    The Great Hunt. The Kitsune's will start the timeless ritual; it will allow spirits of like mind to traverse into their dream (World) to participate in the festival of the hunt. A celebration where those of like mind join forces in parties, seek out beast, and test their mettle. While there is a reward and a competitive aspect, the ancient tradition is more design to connect the great slayers of the verses with one another, permitting them to revel in each others dance. The idea is to permit them to learn from one another, respect the ancient and new ways across many cultures, and feast as they exchange their retelling of prior conquest. The premise is simple enough, and the reward will be based on a few factors which I have yet to hammer out fully. The grounds will be the White Sands within the Ashlandian Mountain ranges. Those that participate and are from Mild power regions will see their strength enhanced if magically attuned, as the realm literally leaks magic from the sand amplifies the user's strengths. The amplification will be more along the lines of an augmented AOE radius for your abilities, increasing vigor and brawn. I will post more info regarding the ritual, the location, and the prey as interest is shown. What this is not/What it is. 1) Not a PVP event 2) Not an ego measuring contest 3) To hear the call, you can't be a villain, as dark hunters are excluded due to Kitsune culture. 4) Hunters are defined as those that slay monsters, vampires, demons, and spirits. 5) Advanced Tech will not follow you, unless magic Tech, 6) Guns are permitted, if black powder based, think flintlock. Caster guns/magic guns are allowed. Any tools of your trade or artifacts will carry over. 7) Mild-Moderate Power only 8 ) Fun way to meet like minded characters, a maybe form long term bonds with. 9) The way to avoid having this impact your character, is they will assume it to have been all a dream. This way, the player can decide to what extent they wish to have the event influence there character, if at all. I will start working on a bestiary for you guys, as well as some information regarding how your skills will be amplified, if at all. This is more to gauge an interest check, if no one signs up or expresses any sense of desire to pursue it. I will naturally assume this concept to be dead on arrival.
  12. 4 points
    Charlie's perceptive capabilities were heavily marred by the rage he felt after being killed by 'Tim'. All he could see as he soared towards the robot, his fist raised and charged with explosive energy, was a target. A debt that needed to repaid with interest. As soon as he was in range, he brought his fist forward with as much strength and energy as he could. There was the usual blinding white that accompanied his explosions, but something about the hit felt...empty. When the smoke from his attack subsided, he found himself in a place he nor his lackadaisical narrator could explain with words. It was like a large, dark...emptiness. An expanse that just seemed to go on forever. It also seemed to morph and shift, as if it were alive and moving of its own will. He looked around him frantically, his confusion adding to his anger. He searched for Tim, but could not find the robot anywhere. He also couldn't see Vlad. Or Barrister. Or Junia. Or Melanie. His anger briefly subsiding, he searched the crowd of survivors for the crazy-eyed mercenary and her cohorts. None of them were there. He couldn't help but wonder if she'd died at some point. Had he been there when she did? Had he accidentally incinerated her in his rage? He wasn't given much time to think about it. He began to hear voices. Muffled ones, as if their sources had originated from inside a submarine. Sloshing noises caused him to look down and notice that he was standing in a slippery, black ooze that seemed to be rising with each passing second. Movement ahead of him caused him to look up towards some new noises. Disgusting ones, like the sound one might hear if they eavesdropped on him through his bedroom door in the late hours of the night. He soon realized that he was staring at hundreds of little, worm-like, creatures. Big ones. Just the right size to consider any living thing a potential meal. He looked around for this new voice, it being clear and seemingly detached from anything he could see. It was like it was in his head. Shortly afterwards, however, the vices owner materialized into view. "Whoa…" said Charlie as he took in the freakish looking creature. It appeared to be all muscle, but it's voice was definitely female. He wondered if there was curvaceous woman under all of it, waiting to be swooned into passionate breeding. Charlie turned his attention to swarm of wiggling larvae that were now quickly rushing towards them, mouths open. Jumping backwards, Charlie channeled a bit of energy into his hands and clapped them, sending out a wave of scorching of heat. Many larvae in front of him were immediately vaporized, but it gained him little to no respite. For each one he'd killed, several seemed to appear in their place. "S***!" he cursed, ducking a larvae that would've latched onto his eye-socket before turning to run. The rising sludge at his feet greatly impaired his speed though, so he had to constantly turn around to hurl fireball after fireball to keep the swarm at bay. The rising ooze and moisture of their new attackers kept him from starting any fires, meaning he'd have to conserve energy. But he knew doing so would be fruitless. Their numbers were far too great. He'd probably run dry before a tenth of them were taken out. He'd have to dig up the plant by the root. Unleashing a small explosion at his feet to briefly free him from the ooze and send him several feet in the air, he slung his hand at the Xer queen, sending over a dozen small fireballs in her general direction. They wouldn't be lethal and some of them would only serve to blind her with a small but loud pop, but he needed to know how thick her hide was before he tried to go in for a kill.
  13. 4 points

    Through the Night

    [outdated- new and final version in progress] DUSK Six weeks in binds. Six weeks waiting to die. Six weeks wanting to die. He could have drawn his blade the second they stormed the court at Noviria. Struck them down, as many as he could have- as many as it took before he himself drowned in the violence. Now he must live with the shame of surrender, of capture... and of mercy. Never again will he falter. Never again will he allow the words of another to stay his blade. Never again will he fail to pay the price that his blood demands. He should have died to the east with his brothers. ... His foot catches in the mud and he curses, stumbling. He will not fall- not now, not so close to Heliopolis. He has walked for days, feebly tracing the high roads through Tellius' Rest, ignoring the agony that his body preaches to come that much closer to his home. For two weeks before the capture of Noviria, there had come no word from the city. No envoys, no messengers... no refugees. He had pleaded for the ruling nobles to send horsemen, to discover why Heliopolis was silent--but he was met with scoffing dismissal. "The warfront approaches," they would lecture, "We can spare no men for a city that has no army with which to aid us." He'd spat at their feet. Heliopolis had no army because they died in service to you, alone and outnumbered and far from their home. He knows not what awaits him over the mountains, now. The road has been empty since he set out despite the end of the war, with no horses or men to be seen. The pain is gone now, replaced by restlessness; and he worries that his body may give out before he crests the final ridge between he and his home. It does not. But he will wish that it had. ... Numbness is all that he feels, now. Gone is the restlessness, gone is the anger, gone is the pain. He does not believe his eyes, can not believe them; but now as he wades through the cold ash of what was once his home, the truth pierces him like a cruel spear to the heart. His gleaming home, built of the strongest stone into the most beautiful hills, reduced to blackened foundations and smoking fields of rubble. The dead are not among the barren stones of the city. He makes his way to what was once the Gate of the Morning; a tall and polished bronze-sealed arch, leading the way from the city out into the golden sea of grain surrounding it. Now the arch is covered in soot, the fires having burned hot enough to tarnish and melt the bronze upon it. It is not a stone's toss away where he finds his people. Men. Women. Children. Thousands of them. All of them. A field of bones left to rot. He sees a weapon in every hand large enough to hold one. Those who could not resist must have burned with the city. Of course they fought. They always fought. Why hadn't he? At last he falls. His body cracks on the ground and he loses himself to grief, letting his cries be heard by all the dead crowding the valley of his home. Arsenos Myrmidon. Blood of those pledged to die in its defense. Alive and sobbing in its ashes. Had he the strength, he would have picked a blade from the ground and ended his shame.
  14. 4 points

    [GS] Taurus

    As Taurus's meaty fist came hurtling towards her, a large orange field formed around the archangel. There was a splintering crack as divine force met divine force. Cracks began to form in the front of the spherical shield as it absorbed what damage it could, hurtling backward to avoid being broken. With a flare of her wings, Addison slowed her drift, coming to a halt fifty metres from Taurus, just in time to see the God toppling onto his back. "Restrain him!" Addison barked into the intercoms. "We have to weaken him for Hinoka! Begin the ritual, Doctor! Protect Hinoka at all costs!" With a mighty beat of her wings, she returned into the fray, using her aerial dexterity to evade the first few swings of Kyoku's dragon. God help them if he didn't dispel it or somehow manage to break it free. Looping beneath the wide swing, Addison proceeded to land forcefully on Taurus's chest, pressing down against him like an anvil. The spherical field around her bore down into him forcefully, so much so that he would struggle to get off his back with the strength of his core muscles alone. @The North Wind
  15. 4 points

    Broken Souls Come Together

    From the way Hawk put it, it seemed more like a temporal anomaly then any attack. Arguably, it made it even more dangerous. Attacks could be predicted, or quantified. Attacks had a goal. Temporal anomalies were the very poster-child of unpredictable chaos. Not incredibly convincing there. And then there was Hawk's more emotional appeal. Not leaving anybody behind. To recover their own. Noble goals, if impossible. The Custodes and Knights of the Force Majeure knew what was required of them, to make the ultimate sacrifice if need be. They knew that James was willing to make that sacrifice himself, to be left behind, that he never ordered anybody to undertake a mission or ordeal that he would not undergo himself. It was a stark contrast to Addison's organizations, where he had heard tales of her pleading with, or telling her close companions and high advisors that they were too important to risk themselves. Perhaps that was the crux of the difference between her and him now, and by extension, the sort of people that surrounded her and him. Still, James was slightly moved by his determination and loyalty, if nothing else. "Fine. You can fight the creatures. Thats merely the most minor of the issues. How would you find them? You speak as if you know how. Make me that case, and narrow that search down from its infinite possibilities, and I may be able to help you." Otherwise... James nodded his head in the direction of the training pit. "You were the first through the portal on your side. You saw our armaments, men, women and ordnance arrayed against any hostile incursion. That is because as deadly as your attackers seem to be, I've seen creatures that would make them look like children, threats capable of overrunning a world in a day instead of a nation. Those machines down there are not borne out of a fanciful whim, but a serious need for preparation." He turned back to Hawk "So you'll have to guarantee we don't have needn't visit every realm, pocket dimension or hellhole to find your lost nation." James paused. "And I will have to put it to a vote with my fellow Knights as well." It wasn't a yes yet, but it was far better then the answer they received moments ago.
  16. 4 points

    A Royal Wedding OOC [Svanhild]

    @Csl @vielle @Lucinda Valentine After a lot of personal angst, I'm afraid I'm going to have to withdraw from this thread. I've got a lot of balls in the air right now and I'm just going to have to eat my pride and drop some of the heavier ones for the moment. As it turns out, large open event threads always sound fun to me, but they turn out to be my kryptonite.
  17. 4 points

    Broken Souls Come Together

    Deciding to skip the history lesson, Hawk got straight to the point. "James and Addison have history together. It's a long story, but he is considered a close ally of the Bastion, and the reason we're all here to begin with. If he agrees to help us, we may have no choice but to trust him." Although Addison may trust James, Hawk did not. For now he remained skeptical of him. As he spoke, the marshal reached across the desk for the small brown cigar box on the far side of it. He opened the box carefully, taking a single cigar from it and tucking it between his lips. "If we're going to ask his help, I suggest we bring Addison along. She knows him best, if anyone can help convince him, its her." He added, taking a second cigar from the box. He held the second cigar out low to the desk as an offering to the aeronaut. @kriistiinii
  18. 4 points

    Broken Souls Come Together

    "To be honest with you, I don't know much about portals at all. I've only been back and forth through the one in Predators Keep same as you." The marshal cleared his throat before continuing. "So far, I reckon the only way we can open a portal is with the help of James Eredas of the Order of Force Majeure. If he was able to open the portal to our world, surely he would be able to do it again." Admittedly, Hawk did not know James well, nor did he fully trust him even after all he did for them and the members of the Final Bastion. However, he was the only lead they had. With his help, maybe they had a shot to bring back all those they lost to those wooden demons. If James refused to aid them however, they'd have to rethink their approach. @kriistiinii
  19. 4 points
    Lucinda Valentine

    [GS] Taurus

    >Base Camp Near the queen’s tent, there was another, also green. It belonged to Luca who laid In between 2 layers of fur. In her undergarments, she was unconscious, preparing for a predicted wave of injured soldiers. On each side of her, was a row of blood bags. Parts of her body all along her sides reformed into roots with the purpose of pumping the blood into her body. There was a bucket of hot water with a couple of cloths. One rested on her forehead. It had been a while since in battle, and the governess was prepared for the absolute worst. Her face looked pale, and almost dead. A suit and jacket rested of a box away from her. Because of her vulnerability during this process, she ordered her personal guards to stay near her. They all wore their uniforms but also had blankets wrapped around them. It had been hours as her body slowly took in the blood. It would be converted into compact energy and this process could take half a day but she was going as fast as possible. The bags slowly emptied and when the last drops were gone, the ground started to shake beneath her. The roots detached from the blood bags and dug into the ground and shot back out of the surface around the tent. They twirled and shot up climbing the sides of the tent almost causing it to collapse in on itself. They then shot up into the air. Before they could crush the tent, they hardened and froze. This sight was most likely visible from most areas of the camp, though the magic would have been recognizable not posing any threat. Luca awoke and sat up leaning forward gasping for air. One hand gripped the fur blanket on top of her. It was a relief that the process was finally completed and she grinned moving a strand of her hair behind one of her long elven ears. “It’s been a while.....I can’t get too ahead of myself, this is for the injured after all....As much as I’d like to show off in front of all these lovely people...now really isn’t the time....” She stood up wrapping the fur blanket around herself. The soldiers stationed outside came running in “M’lady?! Are you alright?!l” ”I’m fine....I’m going to go find the Queen...you can all go check on other parts of the camp to make sure everyone is alright. For some that must have caused quite the fright.....Off then, you’re dismissed...” Her words were soft and soothing as they rolled off her tongue. When the soldiers had finally left her tent, she got dressed, and grabbed her signature scarlet red lipstick putting some on, and left the tent. “Minori...?Syn...?Mmm...” @Mackenzie Rose @Emm
  20. 3 points
    Chapter 1, "New Dream, Old Nightmare." Honeyed eyes peered from bronze balcony, the clocks’ ticking, and grinding of gears serving as a sonorous cacophony. The ballad of innovation like a grand symphony, of which she was the maestro. The expanse of bleached rolling gnolls stretching beyond the horizon, as the kerfuffle of a debate from the street, trailed to keen ears. Luscious lips bending into a smile as the shifting of the sand due to times waning influence had sowed discourse. Friction necessary for progress, for it’s through the fire and hammer that metal can be repurposed into an implement. Hand gripping the railing, as lunar light perforated the veil of twilight. Stars were twinkling in the heavens, as a gentle gelid breeze coursed between the spiraling bronze buildings. Locks of raven hair drifting to its call, cascading downward as stray strands obfuscated inquisitive gaze. The mood contorting, proving somewhat malleable as expression bent to the influence of her third eye. Dreams within dreams, an endless expanse of worlds connected by the most narrow of bridges. The tapestry of fate being plucked, the fleeting of one of her kind vexing mind. She was exasperated by the fact she recognized this baneful spirit, this mischievous cur foolishly traversing the abyss between worlds. Djinn were fickle, their mind able to resonate with one another across a vast distance. The epiphany anything but melodious. More like the chaotic clashing of brass instruments as she withdrew into her home. The laboratory housing many trinkets, discoveries wrought through blood and sweat. Combing endless dusty tombs to further her reach. Curvaceous form now exposed, as she would change attire. The white silk dress, while flowery and flattering, was not suited for the road or task at hand. Rummaging through her closet, she’d eventually embellish figure with her favorite traveling attire. The garb consisting of pure black clothing, a jacketed top with an orange stripe running up the center, mounds of flesh leaving cleavage exposed as sexual prowess like any tool had its place in her arsenal. Bottom half and midriff covered in straps of leather, held together by buckles that clasped onto her top. Flowing dress that left thighs exposed, only shielding her bottom from wanting gaze. Fingerless gloves to limit callous from formulating on her gentle hands. Dark leggings and a pair of traveling boots to trek through sand and mud alike. Traction being a vital component when one walks the lonesome road. Once covered, Myrriah would gather her things, tossing in a capsule that housed one of her creations, as well as, food, water, change of clothes, perfume, a few rags into dimensional pocket. Fingers were running through hair, as she meandered within lavished halls, reaching the golden adorned vestibule of her home. She was peering over her shoulder, giving the nest one final glance. Gloved hand reaching for the knob of brass, twisting and pushing the barrier open. Stepping beyond it’s gaped maw, sealing the door shut once past the threshold. The winding streets of metal patrolled by clockwork machines, steam pouring from the grates darted across the city. As the sound of boots making their way to the stable near the city's limits echoed, betraying her approach. Blending into the darkness, only to reemerge into the rays of artificial crystal light, exiting the safety of erect walls, as she rode on the back of a giant beetle, her loyal steed. The portal between realms a well-kept secret, eluding the comprehension of most. Yet Myrriah wasn’t like the common rabble, nor was she comparable to the gelatinous nobility that plagued her realm. The lady of coin a unique breed with unprecedented aspirations that have governed her actions. Why care about one stray spirit? Because a wrathful Djinn can prove quite the blight, and the thought that someone may link it to her world was nettlesome. The empire thrived despite the chaotic rule of the Queen, yet prosperity comes in seasons. For across the near infinite dreams were eyes ravenous by nature, hungrily peering out for new worlds to subjugate. This foolish soul could bring the ire of a nation within these arid borders if it managed to cause harm. Insectoid appendages barreling forward, it’s pulsating belly feeding on the magical properties emitted from the grainy bosom of the sands. Sustenance propelling the organism forward, as the Mistress of shadows would find her way toward the sea of dunes. Within the epicenter of the wasteland, few dare tread, even the most hearty of adventurers she rested for a moment. She was reaching into her dimensional pocket, pulling out a soft fabric like a towel to wipe sweat from brow, chugging down some of the water she had brought to thwart the parching of lips. Dainty fingers ran across the carapace of her bestial friend, the partner while not sentient still had an whimsical perception for the caramel toned beauty. It’s carapace as black as the night, as the soft underbelly seemed lined with organic material, crimson in hue that like air sacs expanded outward before contracting. The hulking beetle pressing onward as the two would inevitably stand at the center, fingers snapping the sand around them vanished, the pinkish light of the rising sun eclipsed by utter darkness. The swarthy curtain was robbing one of sight, the deprivation maddening if one were to lose themselves within the tunnels connecting our worlds. Following the residual energy left behind, like a ghost trapped in time. As the laws of reality differed within this void, the sense of nothingness palpable, beyond dreadful. The harrowing experience troubling the beetle, yet it wouldn’t last. Within that space between space, time ceased to function outside of its chasm. Yet, within, the process felt like hours. The heartlessness of that space giving way, evaporating as the link between their dream resounded. Striking a chord through a complex network of frequencies permitted the two to infiltrate the curtain. Yet the process did not proceed without a hurdle or two. Dimensional travel was a complicated affair, if facile, then all planes of existence within the dream would have been linked already. The tumultuous turbulence vehemently shaking the two beings, their very cells vibrating in the most excruciating of ways. While outside time remained locked in torpidity while transmitting oneself through those blacken halls. Once they reached the pinnacle, the compression unfurled, as time leaped forward. The exact passage unknown, though, enough to permit the other spirit to escape from the entry point. The darkness cracking, as the depravity of one’s soul within the void, dissipated. The wailing brought on by nothingness never got easier with time. Pearly fangs grinding against one another, as grunts birthed from agony, bellowed forth from juicy lips—light beyond blindingly flooding the scene, as both shielded their oculus. From nothingness, everything came into being. Standing now within the wilderness, the labyrinth of trees stretching onward as the melodious call of winged beast echoed. Birds roosting within the branches, their shade provided respite, allowing Myrriah to repose herself. Gloved hands were grasping the reins as she ordered her friend onward. The beetle lumbering forward sluggish at first, it’s oafish approach facetious to observe. The change in magic, the gravity of this planet, and other natural forces, be them greater or lesser, taking time for both of them to acclimatize to. The foliage rubbing against legs and chitin, as the beast of burden, pushed into the brush. Eventually, the two finding a path, the road cut naturally due to the traffic of the local wildlife and indigenous folk who called this quaint world home. Mandibles colliding several times, as a hand gently patted the top of the thorax, the jubilant creature proving contagious as the Djinn smiled. Honeyed orbs peering down the road, tapering as the trail of her officious brother while subtle, didn’t escape her mental grasp. The exact location obstructed from vision, yet the third eye tucked away from the flesh had enough foresight to deconstruct and disseminate the general direction—radiant ray piercing between the green leaves, providing warmth to olive-tone vestige. The humid air a far cry from the arid landscape of her home, as the two continued with merriment down the path. The mind left to wander, evaluating various outcomes and potential ramifications for this interloper. Heart beating like a drum, mind running at speeds twice as fast as that of an average human. The strangers within a strange land out of their element left Myrriah suffering from sightlessness when it came to how this plane operated. Ignorance and complacency two predators she often eschewed, finding their company less than elfin. The ditty rhythm of their unremitting stride juxtaposing impeccably with the natural ambiance, as they incessantly prowled across the scene. The sun setting, seeking shelter behind the edge of the world, Myrriah setting up camp away from the road. Taking refuge within the wilds as stalwart gaze remained vigilant. Her own body’s physiology unique as sleep, thirst, and hunger took much longer to have a toll on her. The rest necessary for her insect, leaning against the bark of a nearby oak. Shuffling that deck of cards that had served her faithfully through many frays. The chirping of crickets resonating, bouncing off the acoustics of the woodlands as the frigid night air caused goosebumps to litter across velvety canvas. The camouflage of darkness working both ways, as eyes adjusted to the night. The evening passing, as dew-kissed the blades of emerald colored grass. She was stirring her mount from slumber as it pushed out hot air from its extremities. Rising as the energy of the land kept fueling the creature, the magical properties not as dense as that of her motherland, but enough to thwart off starvation. Their travels were recommencing, as the moisture clinging to the brush stained skin and exoskeleton, once more trodding down the muddy road. Crisp cerulean skys were holding up, as the sun crawled across the heavens. For nine days, they repeated this process, cleaning clothes in the river, drying it off with a spell, gathering water, fending off beast, receiving curious glares, and intimidating a few bandits. The dried salted meat she packed providing nourishment, while not a delicacy by any stretch of the imagination, it did suffice. On the morning of the ninth, the Djinn could feel they were close. She was holding a polished silver mirror, combing hair, beautifying herself with the makeup of crushed plants, cactus, fungi, minerals, and insects as the fragrance of honey and berry perfume was applied to the skin. The ritual of maintaining her ravishing visage proving somewhat therapeutic, even if no one was around to revel in the fruits of her toiling labor. Once more, the beetle would shake off atrophy hold, shuffling to its feet as it wiggled thorax. The two are now approaching a ruin, covered by the natural growth from the land. It’s jaws open, as a harrowing, frigid gale escaped the mouth. Myrriah was reaching into her pocket realm, pulling out a crystal on a pedestal, placing it near the entrance as she would set up camp. The crystal would consume the vile chi irradiating from the beating heart of the evolving being. Its current form would slowly corrupt her or any organism within its grasp given enough time. The process would take a few hours, and so she would sit on a stump, shuffling her deck as nimble fingers provided showmanship. The tarot cards from her word vanishing from fingers. Flicking wrist for them to appear once more between the other hands digits. She was repeating this process as she hummed an old folksong to herself, as if trying to soothe the nervousness washing over that hourglass form, fending off the insipid nature of the mundane, allowing placidity to take root. @Fierach
  21. 3 points
    Somber "Stranger in a strange land." The realm of rolling blanched gnolls, where the land flowed not with milk and honey, but the blood and fire that is tribulation. The domain of her forefathers testing the mettle of those that called grainy bosom home, showing no clemency from that inferno toward all inauspiciously caught in its melancholy song. The dirge of those unworthy, deemed unfit to survive by the will of the sands ringing in the back of mind. Their silence was proving daunting, as the insipid chords from this cushiony kingdom birthed with it solely impuissance. The vapid inhabitants were woefully ignorant, going about their mundane affairs, blissfully accepting the deception that had woven like a beautiful tapestry. The obfuscation serving their ruler well, a monstrosity, an abomination wearing the disguise of their queen, yet was anything but benevolent. A contract, signed in blood and gold, had brought the kitsune out from the warm belly of her maiden land. She was traversing the labyrinth of tall oak trees, rich fauna, and enriched resources. Yet vigilant eyes, an inquisitive nature, successfully thwarting off complacency, the greatest bane to wilt away at one’s roots. The illusion of peace, the falsehood that is tranquility, needed to be fended off constantly. The universe by its nature was hostile, a truth though somber, was all but prevalent no matter one’s home. Yet the severity of strife, the extent of the wolf at the gate varied. Frivolously the monster hunter carried out her contract, attempt to fell the beast, hubris proving her undoing as the darkness overpowered her. The guards were hastily whisking the fox away from their regal ruler, unaware of the insidious agenda and maleficent nature in stupor behind elegantly poised visage. She was carried off first by carriage, then by boat, across the crashing waves of the sea, eventually reaching the remote island that housed the nation’s prisoners. The katana vanished, it form long dissipated into nothingness, causing many queries, though her watchers were now assuming answers can be harvested later. As the samurai refused to talk, the soldiers concluded her to be ignorant of their flavorless dialect, in truth, their tongue's perniciousness proved far too belittling. Meriting the void that greeted them, yet the foreigner understood what was soon to transpire. Pondering out loud whether she was sent by a foreign government to destabilize their pitiable way of life. The truth seldom so whimsical, often ignorance aspiring such grandiose fears and conjecture. Yet stoicism was all the greeted them, the discipline, battle hardened soul in absolute control of their emotions, knowing the next play to unfurl due to prior experiences. The black and white cloak that shielded ample form now rend from body. The golden clasp supporting it tearing free, as one of the soldiers would send a punch toward their captives abdomen. The blow landing, as the fox leaned forward, smirking as she strived her best not to display any visible signs of pain. The men, a bit taken back, as they’d brush it off, pushing her forward as iron shackles collided with one another. The friction of their force piercing the ambiance one might expect, as the kitsune had being led through the gaped maw of the prison. The pallidly lit heartless stone walls reeking of blood and humidity, the lamentations of those unfortunate to call this hell home, like an orchestra bellowed forth. Yet their torment did not bring with it a gelid realization, nor did it vex weathered soul, rather, a sense of serenity. Luscious lips bending into a smile, as the pure husk of this land gave way to its true inner swarthy form. Finding relief in finally penetrating the lie, seeing their world for what it truly was, the devil tucked away from the privileged prying eyes of the commonfolk. The soldier gossiped amongst one another, waiting for one of the wardens to figure out what they should do with her. The stubby ears flicking behind wild cherry blossom mane, as the idle banter of her captures amused the samurai. They were speculating on why she had a missing arm and leg. As well as how those metallic prosthetics had been designed and fitted for such a small frame. Her appearance the source for much befuddlement, as it’s unique and battered nature proved beguiling to one’s curiosity. The sounds of boots rhythmically colliding with grime covered floor, as the warden with a few guards, would relieve the tiny fighter from the soldier’s charge. The armored clad knight saluting the clear leader, before the maestro of that song would grasp the chains, dragging the kitsune forward. Somber lumbering behind rather clumsily, feigning a lack of grace, while maintaining the sense of fragility throughout their little march. All the while, thinking to herself how much she will enjoy killing this smug human once the timing was right. The knob of rust coated iron turning, as wooden barricade would be pushed open, the captive being shoved inside as one of the torturers had been waiting. The warden was conversing with the fellow for a bit, as the guards fastened the restraints onto the oddly complacent prisoner, tying her to a frigid stone slab. Once the lot had departed, and the door slammed shut, a soft sigh would escape from the fox’s moist lips. The interrogator stepping forward, slapping a wrinkly, leathery bag onto a nearby surface, rummaging about as various tools of his trade placed into her peripheral. The instruments not even clean, as the dried, crusted remnant of blood still stained the metal devices. The man was humming away rather gleefully, showing unbridled acceptance with enthusiasm as the rare sight of a foxkin like a muse. Various questions would be asked, yet nothing would greet those ears, mulishness inspiring a wide, near toothless grin. The man finding it best to do it his way as is, yet the work now delayed, as the warden intruded once more. Befuddlement staining the artist face. The authority figure snatched her wooden pipe, satchel, and a large jug of Sake, shaking the worldly possessions in the face of the kitsune. Demeaning her, in some clever misplaced attempt at psychological warfare, displeased it elicited no outward response, he gave the interrogator a nod of affirmation. Stepping beyond the threshold, as the door closed shut once more. The flickering orange hue, of a nearby flame from within a glass lantern perforating the shade, as the professional would get to work. Mentioning how much he would enjoy eviscerating her body, enthralled by the prospect of working on a canvas so unique. For an hour, he would make incisions, pour water over her face, grind salt into wound, and send a flurry of punches her way. Resolve did wane, as a few grunts of pain, finally departed from formerly sealed lips. The first session proved uneventful, bearing not the fruit they had desired. The body often proved rather resilient in the torturer’s eyes, but the mind was rarely so imperishable. Opening the door as he would cry for the guards, the men undoing the bindings as they would carry the bleeding woman from the room, dragging feet across the filthy ground. They led her to a nearby cell as they would pin her to an adjacent wall, shackling arm and cannon to the contraption, so her back was forced to rest uncomfortably against the wet surface. The men of this realm ignorant of her magic, unaware of her craft, assuming even the cannon couldn’t function without gunpowder or some iron balls as ammunition. The fox left in silence, refusing to speak even as the other prisoners cried about their fate, finding their pity anything but admirable. Eye rolling, as time and it’s passage seemed to have little context within the cell, yet she didn’t intend to stay for long.
  22. 3 points
    Die Shize

    Character Training

    All of my characters went through the Trial of Thought. They had to endure me, their maker, as I reverse-flayed each and every one of them into existence. Beyond that, since most of my PCs are able to defend themselves, they all underwent otherwise rather generic training. Some were trained by masters-at-arms, raised in knighthood, fighting pits, trained as assassins since childhood, learned through experience not chosen but forced upon them, brought up in warrior cultures, or something else so profound. One reason I like this thread is because it makes me realize how much I have not really thought about how my characters received their combat effectiveness. I've taken it for granted due to an almost subconscious requirement of making most of my characters combat-ready, due to prevalent PVP on other sites and, really, the convenience of it for a lot of roleplay scenarios. I don't think any of my characters apart from a few went through 'Trial of Something' like you'd find on TV. It's not something I really think about but, as I said, this thread is enlightening because maybe it can serve as a tool for me to put more thought into such things.
  23. 3 points
    Myrriah art came out perfect, I am gonna work on some pictures of my older character Somber next. Gonna try and do her kitsune form, will be fun. ❤️
  24. 3 points
    @Sombersong I'm not entirely sure what the breakdown is here, however, from what I've read @Darthgamer101 has repeatedly indicated that he had expectations regarding what type of thread this would be, and simply wants clarification from the OP so that he can adjust his expectations accordingly. To the best of my ability, I can't find any instance of him saying you are wrong, and he has routinely stated that he's seeking clarity for himself. Additionally, he was, rather clearly, providing context with the above quote to explain why he had developed his expectation. Rather intentionally, or not, you are mischaracterizing Darth and what Darth is saying. And that is disingenuous and dishonest. With that being said, @Sombersong you have already stated that you no longer intend to partake in this thread. If that's the case, this conversation should be done. We are approaching the point of beating a dead horse. If you intend to rejoin the roleplay, then clarifying perspectives and reaching a mutual understanding is important. Otherwise, please vacate this thread so that the discussion can return to relevant aspects of the RP. If both of you would like to continue this debate, for whatever reason, we can move relevant posts to a new topic. However, at this point the discussion as it stands is no longer relevant to the RP or the OOC RP thread.
  25. 3 points
    No where, the risk of contamination and plague is too frightening. owo
  26. 3 points

    Mood music requests

    Gonna throw in a few. This seems most like what you'd hear in a cafe: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pD7H2hE8YD0 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lAjs75dkho More fantasy-wanderlust-melancholy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A76a_LNIYwE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJy2R31xpl8 More sad-melancholy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzR8BCmV9Ew
  27. 3 points
    The term huntress made her face grimace, the Kitsune wasn’t fond of feminine titles, even if accurate given her vocation and appearance. The fox often found them unbecoming due to how it put her in a box, the world raising and lowering her station on such a fickle as gender. No genuine harm had been inflicted, and the tenuous relationship she had with society did birth this quandary. Vexation fading, given way to the hunt, Katana gripped tightly as she continued traipsing backward. That scarred face was displaying feigned fear, like a confused, exhausted herbivore limping for a ravenous wolf. The guards were foolishly rushing forward, their tunnel vision eliminating the subtle signs in peripherals. While Somber could easily have dispatched of these three, she wanted to study him closer. The samurai learning that warrior best communicate through the fray, as oppose to conversating with words. Her tongue hardly silver, possessing little in the way of social graces. But, on the battlefield, her muscles portrayed more than ten thousand finely woven words ever could. The guards were stepping beyond the hall, as Beris lunged from the adjacent passageway. One of the guards caught off guard, found themselves in his web as the glacial dagger plunged into soft tissue. The guard pinned, legs shaking as crimson fluid coursed downward, succumbing to gravity’s spell. Skin flushing white, eyes were dimming, as the soul untethered from the mortal coil. The other two stopping, hoarse whisper of steel friction against steel resounding down the hall. The metallic clashing of limb betraying approaching, as Somber used the opening her now drinking buddy had created. The first soldier was raising his blade skyward, ready to send it downward with full force toward the other prisoner. A streak of metal reflecting the flicker orange hue slicing upward. The man’s eyes widening as blood sprayed from the wrist, the hand severing as it still clutched hilt. Falling to the floor as it fidgeted on the gelid floor. She was desperately clenching the hand as he stepped backward, plate colliding against the stone wall as he was left vulnerable, a tasty morsel for the hunter to devour as he saw fit. Somber wasting no time as she dropped her Katana, jumping onto the remaining guards back, Legs were wrapping around his waist, as the cannon arm strangled the boy from behind. Frantically the solider slammed the Kitsune against the wall, trying to break free as oxygen was denied. Somber latching pearly fangs onto his ear, biting it hard before snapping her head to the side. The ear bitten off, severed from the side of the head as the Kitsune spit it away. Dread, agony, regret all emotions contorted visage displayed, as eventually the guard succumbed to her grip. He was falling on his back, as Somber twisted the neck, a soft cracking sound teasing ear. The vertically challenged samurai pushing him off as she rolled and rose to her feet. Hand grasping the Katana while doing so, as it appeared in her gloved grip once she hopped onto feet. The wounded guard panicked, blood loss weakening the vessel as he panted heavily, sweat running down his cheek as the color had faded from the face. Somber’s peach eyes were narrowing, eyeing the man before turning around. Her kimono flowing flawlessly with her stride, the fox was leaving him for Beris if the man should choose to take his life. “Have fun.” Halting as she spoke, bratty tone reaching ears as her own bent backward. Pink tail flicking as orb peered from over her shoulder, wiping blood-stained lips against the kimono. Parched lips were bending into a wide smirk, as the blunt end of blade tapped against her shoulder rhythmically. “Drinks on me when this is done. If you were paying, I’d drink you into bankruptcy.” Stated with such confidence and conviction, that one might wonder if she truly believed that. She was leaning against the wall as she waited for him to finish, knowing that they weren’t far from the warden’s office. If he had touched her booze or pipe, Somber would decapitate his head, which one would remain a mystery. @Fennis Ursai
  28. 3 points

    The First Congregation

    "Knight initiates! This is the governor of Midway and Harcester, Douglas Azelhart," she indicated to the Knights assembled behind her before turning back to the man. "I hope you have a lead. We've been marching around blindly for hours led by the simple guidance of a pre-determined patrol route." Striding back to where she had once stood, Addison picked up the squirming sack of larvae. "All we managed to find was this. The trees are loaded with them." She noted Maelstrom's response. "False, initiate. We are not 'sacrificing men'. Any individual is just as vulnerable on the ground as they are on a tree. If you've signed up for this task, you've accepted that you life might be put at risk." @Xoco
  29. 3 points
    James studied her with a measured practiced eye. Her dress invoked past memories and lessons, of peoples native to sand wastes, mysterious, and resilient. He breathed in deep, scenting the woods, and also catching something from her stronger then perfume, a sense of magic, inhumanly so. Could she still be human? It was possible, but he doubted any human would be looking so immaculate in such an outfit out in the wilds. She was quite beautiful, downright entrancing really by any estimation, but only made him somewhat more wary. Seduction was old of the oldest tricks in history, and still remained one of the most effective for good reason. When she bowed, he paused, and then brought up both armored fists in a martial salute, his own style of formal greeting. Myrriah? Was that her name? Her real name? It didn't matter for the moment. "I am James Eredas" he responded in kind, before looking up at the ruin. “I assume you are here for the spirit as well? Tell me, Sir, what do you know of it?” He looked back down at the woman. "So you know its a spirit too? I can see you're quite magically inclined. Perhaps the spirit is yourself? Then I would only know what you tell me" It wasn't a hard conclusion to come to, even if it was incorrect, although James didn't know that. It seemed whoever the strange lady was, she was quite formidable, a spellcaster of no small ability or wit. James's talents laid more in the realm of the physical, although he considered his own cunning equal for the task.
  30. 3 points
    Rysorian was...vocal. At the very least, Eli could appreciate that. "I think the pain of loss exists to offer proof that what we loved was real," he offered slowly. "And I think Laff's erasure was disrespectful to his lover and him. Very punishing, if you look at it like that." "I've always believed," Mads laughed, "that you were wasted as a sword for hire. You and your consuming thoughts. Messy. Very messy." Eli arched his brow, trying not to laugh with her. "Gods, he seems upset. I guess I should've tried a different story. Haha." He snorted drily, watching as Rysorian stomped away. "I'd guess that he's lost a lot. Still, it's not my place to pry, huh? " He scratched his head, then turned when Igni addressed them. Wise words from a dragon. While the creature in his story had been made up, he wasn't surprised in the slightest. Dragons and creatures like them had different perspectives. Better perspectives, I'd say. "I think Jonathan Laff would have made wonderful ballads," he said after a moment. "Songs that would pull at the heart. Songs that would tell the tale of his lost one and do him justice. I wish that was the path he'd chosen, as I would wager he and Xyrdi could write a song that changed lives." The fire crackled, his stomach growled, and the wind howled. It took him longer than he'd like to notice that there was something else howling alongside it. At Igni's question, he sighed and glanced at Mads. They'd both lost so much, starting with their humanity. Not enough time in the night to enter that topic. Clearing his throat, Eli shrugged. "Oh, there's not much to my understanding, Igni. I'm just very astute." "Think you meant obtuse," Mads chimed in. "How can I be fat? We haven't eaten in weeks." "And yet you still find a way. You made them all sad." They should be, he thought. Eli grit his teeth and rose, frowning at the feline -man that had spoken previously. Merindas had seemed to take a liking to him before, though the golem knew better than to get too close to the human man that was preparing to rest. Eli opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "Rohini," he began plainly, "why were you a cat? Actually, how... how were you a cat."
  31. 3 points

    Hello brave new world.

    We've already talked in discord but yeah, welcome! New Member's Guide is always a good place to check. Lagrimosa as a whole is magitech/adventurepunk in setting, though sci-fi areas like Martial Town and the Frontier exist. If you like medieval fantasy, Ursa Madeum is pretty active! Do you like urban fantasy? There's a loot(?) quest based in Chesterfield that's travelling to Biazo Isle. There's one slot open, you might be interested in it if you're looking for something to dip your toes into. See you around the site ^_^
  32. 3 points

    The Gates of Disorder

    There was a steely coldness that she drew from his words. The wordless awkwardness between them was complex and emotional. Words simply didn't suffice. But perhaps experience would. "May I see?" Addison inquired, her voice pitching up an octave. "Your memories. . . I can explore them. Or rather, you can explore them and show me for yourself. How will I know otherwise that this is really you? That you really are James?" After a brief pause, she added, "I'll show you mine." @Fierach
  33. 3 points

    The Gates of Disorder

    As soon as Hawk and Tenkai left, Addison turned to the rest of those gathered within the room. The situation seemed to have everyone on edge, all but one; James. "Thank you all for you swift arrival and concern, but I wish to have a moment in private with. . . James," the taste of his name on her tongue left an odd and unnatural sensation of taboo. "I hope you can all understand, but there are some things between the two of us that we need to sort out." Once everyone had left, she strode over to the door noisily, her plated steel armor grinding against itself. Pressing a gauntlet firmly against the handle, she bolted the door shut before turning around cautiously to address her other-worldly counterpart. ". . . You don't seem very surprised given the nature of what's going on." @Fierach
  34. 3 points
    The Kommandant put her mind to the evolution of the newly birthed empire. Kora was not close to the man, yet she was still aware that much of the nation's success had been supported by the extensive naval system led by Jack Howard himself. She had no reason in arguing against his qualifications for the position, or her given role to support in his stead if anything were to happen. The official stared into Addison's eyes genuinely. "I stand by your choices."
  35. 3 points
    In that awkward position of wanting to branch out further on Valucre, but recalling my track record for post/response reliability is pretty substandard. I probably should just stick to finishing my current project. Boo.
  36. 3 points
    Hey y’all! Just letting you know that I expect not to be on val for the next couple days. It’s the end of the school year and teachers are giving all their work in handfuls all at once. It’s quite overwhelming and I need to take a quick break to focus and do my work well. 😋
  37. 3 points

    The First Congregation

    What? Is there a telepath here? What's with those questions though? Though Sokker can't form a telepathic link, she's learned to use one that's been established; it isn't that hard. "I don't know what you mean with any of that. Can't resist sunlight? That seems more like a wood elf, but most elven colonies of any type rarely tolerate outsiders."
  38. 3 points

    [GS] Taurus

    "Hmm, not going to lie, I preferred your old look Lexa," He said, shrugging. Before the man stood Red. Well, not really Red, but rather the compressed mass of steel in the shape of a spear that was Red. Douglas would step forward, now applying his magic to the weapon, levitating it, but more importantly, aiming it. The spear would shift clockwise in the air until it faced Taurus. It was angled so that the spear would penetrate the god's right shoulder in an attempt to slow his attacks, or perhaps even stop them. "Alright then, ladies and gentlemen, we are good to go!"
  39. 3 points


    “Roll over like a good boy and I’ll tell you,” Crowley said evenly, though behind his smile were clenched teeth. He stood and leaned against the wall instead of sitting. It was petty. But he didn’t care. “Can’t say I’ll be glad to go. Misral’s been nothing but ashes since the Uldwars killed it.” “You mean the primordial.” Crowley nodded. “Stab the heart and the rest of the body festers.” He remembered the day the primordial was slain. Standing at the top of Mount Egon. Ash and fire raining from the sky. Forests burning. Villages razed. It hadn’t actually been the Uldwars who killed the beast—that claim belonged to Shirin Izora and the mystery wielder of Stormreaver—though they’d been the ones to incur its wrath. That was enough for Crowley to pin the blame on them. “Good riddance,” Lupercarl growled, talking about the Uldwars now judging by his tone. Crowley shrugged. He agreed with the sentiment, but he would never admit it out loud. “There’s an abandoned mining town surrounding a keep,” he said briskly, trying to get the subject back on track. “A few days north of Port Mars. That’s where we’ll set up camp and draw our line in the sand.” “The Legion’s already fielding ships to the west,” Lupercarl pointed out as he reached over to grab the teapot. He didn’t seem to care that Crowley wasn’t sitting with him, because both cups were full by the time he finished pouring. “You’ll have to move fast. Word has it they’re sending Dridak’s bastard now that he’s finished conquering half of Thraece.” “Lanius.” Lupercarl sipped his tea. “The fucking Chimaera himself.” They were silent for a moment. Both weighing the implications in their minds. A smile crept onto Crowley’s face. It was a small thing, no humour in it. “It’s funny,” he said, folding his arms. “Dridak wanted me to marry into the family. Told me that if anything happened between Syrah and I, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Lupercarl paused, looked him over. The light from the window was harsh, and Crowley could see all the roughness in his face and posture that decades of hard work had left. Age looked good on him. It looked right. “And now you’re going to fight them,” he said, understanding. “Adrya and Lanius. They have Oathblades.” “Only an Oathsworn can kill an Oathsworn.” Crowley studied his feet. He felt tired. “Maybe. I’d rather not but you know what Novirian honour is like. I took their father from them. The Kingdom broke their house. They’d rather die getting revenge than consider peace.” “Do you think you can beat them?” “I survived the Break, didn’t I?” “Only because you weren’t alone.” There was a question in the way Lupercarl said it. No one was quite sure which of the Oathsworn had rebelled alongside Crowley. All witnesses had died in the resulting chaos, and he had no intention of sullying the Oathsworn’s memory with the truth. “And no, your pet drug addict doesn’t count. Any skilled fighter could lop her head off.” “She’s been training,” Crowley said a little defensively. “She’s a fucking kumquat is what she is.” Luper carl looked at him. “Answer the question. Can you beat Adrya and Lanius?” Crowley considered. He’d met Adrya a number of times, though he’d never actually seen her fight. She was sharp, driven, confident, a hard woman who grabbed life by the balls and brought it to heel. Dridak had been training her since she was a child for the day when she would have become the Imperator of House Arcos herself. If she was in any way like her father—and recent evidence suggested that that was very much the case—then he had every reason to fear her. But not as much her brother. “I guess we’ll find out.”
  40. 3 points
    @Tyros@Shal "You are right, Shal. But even he deserves an answer to his question. Plus, seems like that's not a good time to laugh." Her tone suddenly shifted to a very different one. It's clearly annoyed, almost angerful. Her glance is also glacial, looking at the knight in front of her with her deep red eyes, not even blinking, observing his every movement and breath. Being challenged this way in her own home, after the previous work she had done the night before for the baron, surely wasn't welcomed. After a few seconds of agonizing stare to the man, she closes her eyes and exhales profoundly, before opening her eyes again and proceeding to talk. "Alright, Rhean. I'll give you the answer to your question. You better open your ears wide, because i'm not gonna say it twice. You should grant the Dryads the privilege to rule their own land, letting them take matters on their own hands. People there want the island to be closed more than it would be worth, so just shut them off completely. They don't want outsiders? Allow them to decide who enters in their own territory. The hard part is to keep a trade deal with them about food, but you should offer as little goods as possible. The best would be to turn their taxes, which they are still gonna owe you, into food, so that we can still feed the rest of the island. I also heard that a Dryad was slain. We can exploit this, by telling the bandits at the eastern camp that the Dryads are looking for people to kill the crazy fool that did that. With the proper lie, we can have the bandits patrol the roads that go to the village, which would prove useful in two ways. First, it would make it harder for merchants to get to the village, starving the Dryads of useful products. Second, it would make it more difficult for the Dryads to have contacts outside. Not letting them have the possibility to have contacts outside is vital. That's because we are gonna make sure that the Pirates and the Criminals are gonna focus on that village. It's easy prey, after all. Farmers, outside the whole island. Only the Dryads to guard the place... What do you think it's going to happen when the new hallucinogenic bombs are gonna get thrown to them? Mix them with fire and they won't be able to do resist long. When they're gonna ask for help from the Baron, you could aid them and force them to accept any deal you want. That's almost two factions out of the game if you play your cards right." She then continues, after a few seconds of pause. "Next is the Trolls and the Wyldmagi. After reclaiming your throne and stopping their collecting taxes nonsense, you should make two deals with the Wyldmagi. First, you grant them discounts on the buildings in Heavenshire, as long as they prove that they stopped the Trolls from assaulting the merchants along with the surroundings, especially on the roads going from here to Heavenshire. The two factions have been enemies for a long time now, you're basically asking them to keep doing what they always did, offering them an additional reward. Now, the true deal, the second one. Every Wyldmagi can choose to have their tax cut off by around... I'd say 40% of the total, but that's negotiable. Why so? Because you're gonna ask them to share any magical discovery and experiment, with the barony. This is gonna have some serious consequences which you should mind. First, Heavenshire is most likely gonna become a nest for them, which is gonna be awesome for both parties, since the Loci are gonna reshape the whole mana flow, hopefully centering it under the city, which is in the middle of the island. Second, it gives them some power. That's alright, for the moment. They could prove to be a phenomenal defense, in case of need... or it could prove to be your downfall. But do you know what they say? 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' With time, you could be able to bring them on your side. Meanwhile, the trolls are gonna be dealt with, partially or completely. Once again, it's vital to keep them from allying with anyone, but they are not remarked to be smart, aren't they? The only difficult individual might be their leader." She then sighs, marking another pause. "The most important thing, though, is to keep the Pirates and the Criminals to ally on their own. Especially the Criminals. We cannot let them to grow any further, or they're gonna be a big problem in the future unless you find a way to make the Will of the Island deal with them. We have to make sure to replace the leader of the Criminals with someone that we can 'trust', or that at least can work as a puppet for us. Once the reputation of this individual is good enough and we have investigated enough to know who the leader behind the organization is, all we have to do is making the others lose trust in the leader. How? I could use this." She points to her pipe. "To normal people, that's addictive. Turn the leader of the gang into a drug addict and then starve him. Either he does something really stupid, or the members are gonna take him down themselves. The Pirates are innately exploitable. Feed them a prey to raid and they're gonna be happy for a while. To deal with them, you need a force to repel them, possibly the Wyldmagi, in the future." "Speaking of losing trust, that's what most likely is gonna happen to the Farmers, after they get raided by the Pirates. Make them lose trust in the Dryads and you're gonna have a cheap workforce. Most likely affected by the Will of the Island, but even it can't not make people work to grow food. Otherwise, his toys are gonna die one by one. That's how you keep a child from doing what he wants." "The Enclave... We could use." She interrupts herself. "Well, They could use some cheaper taxes as well. Having a deal with the Dryads is gonna be good, but sooner or later their food is gonna not be enough for the island. Ease the customs on food coming from the mainland, so that merchants can trade that easily. They get more money for themselves and we keep the people." A few seconds of complete silence pass, while she shifts her glance back and fort the man and the cat. "I'm not the one you should ask what laws to make, Rhean. I exploit laws, not make them. Go ask a lawyer or someone else. Now that what had to be said has been said, i'll see you both leave. I excuse your state, Rhean, but that doesn't mean you didn't ruin my morning. Also, i have better things to do." She then stands up from the chair, expecting the two to walk before her, heading to the door of the shop and leave, removing themselves from this situation that pissed her off more than she likes to. Or at least that's what you both catch from the tone of her voice.
  41. 2 points
    So this was why he’d woken feeling incomplete. It seemed the ‘alcove’ wend deeper than Ed had first assumed and despite extracting part of himself back, the end result just wasn’t complete. Ilene seemed to have gone off on a yandere stalker tangent if one was to use the Weeblander term. Sadly, now wasn’t the best time to hand her a butchers knife and let nature run it’s course. That was a tool for oddball romance and did not deserve to be sullied by the BLOOD OF THESE LITTLE SHITS WHO THOUGHT THAT THEY COULD STEAL FROM HIM AND GET AWAY WITH IT! He watched the leg club descend. Now the translucent shells may vey well be immune to damage and set to only open at the appointed time, but they were translucent and Ed had the right kind of magic to render the falling shadow just as lethal as the club itself. Die in the cradle. Die and hand it back. Just like his personal extraction from the wall, Ed would make sure Ilene would get back what was taken. It was easy enough without his magic. With it? He’d wring these baby seals dry. “They stole from us.” There was an unmistakable undercurrent of rage in that almost placid statement as the man put everything together and came to the conclusion that all this shit was the result of trash attempting to pilfer everything they could from him. No, that couldn’t be tolerated at all. Magic flared as Ed zeroed in on his own abomination and swung the lethal shadow through the translucent shell. This one. This one was next. ”and there is only one way this is going to end.”
  42. 2 points

    Rath Lux - Quests: Agnus Dei

    Seeing her underwhelming reply, he sighed and just hugged her close before releasing her. "I'll see you at the gates. Its time we started the march to the city." Then he smirked. "Well, our forces will be marching. We, will be in a carriage." With a sigh, he finally exited the shop, eager to adress his mercenary army and ensure that the supply carts have been properly loaded up. An army lives on its stomach, after all and there would be no easy way to resupply once the battle was approaching. The Heartweald would surely cause all the animals to flee and the plants to be dangerous to gather. They would have to do with what they requisitioned here in the city. Thankfully, Frederika ensured that people are willing to surrender their goods to the baron, despite his rumored ill intentions. The forces themselves have gathered just outside the city gates, with the horses and runic machinery already rippling through the marbled road below. Not many war machines were present in the city, but each one would surely be of great importance, should Heavenshire need to be besieged. After all, despite being only a township, Heavenshire is heavily defended with nigh numberless traps and canon towers, with balistae covering the tallest of them. A cannonball was something that Rhean was certain he could perhaps stop with his bare hands while in full plate, granted it would be at the cost of a near fatal wound. But a runed balista shot? He may as well concede to being a skewer, but if he manages to survive the impalement, then he could perhaps regenerate from that. Not that he ever tested the upper limits of his healing factor and perhaps, that was for the best. Waiting for everyone to finish gathering up and entering his carriage, Rhean yelled out for the entire port to hear. "Make your final preparations! We begin the march in ten minutes. With any luck, you'll all be wasting your pay in Heavenshire taverns tonight!" Cheers erupted through the air as several individuals approached the baron, causing him to nod in their direction. "You're the sargeants, I assume? Come, let us discuss some tactics before we leave."
  43. 2 points

    Custom title raffle 25

  44. 2 points

    [An Empty Throne] Houses of Corinth

    These events are currently unfolding as we speak. Mythal's departure (which is ongoing, not completed) from UM and Milo's abduction aren't exclusive. I should have said his abdication of the throne. But confirmation of the deeds of ownership will have taken place before his kidnapping by pirates. As far as I know, nothing is completely finished yet, which is why none of it was submitted for the lore archives. I also planned to reach out to you for those map changes once everything was submitted, because I know you be all fancy with the graphics. 👀
  45. 2 points
    Both kobolds exchanged looks with Kaila, first in confusion, and then after a few moments nervous stares. Scrap tugged on his leather straps that kept his armor in place, and shuffled from foot to foot. He leaned in to whisper in Meddle's ear. "They're uh..." He glanced back at Kaila, and her arms-crossed, stern glare, like a broodsitter watching a clutch of impudent chicks. "...they're not moving the wagon, Meddle." "I can see that!" She hissed back, giving him an elbow, and falling from the wagon in the process. With a sudden squawk of surprise, she plummeted a foot or two to the ground, bruising her ego. While the two of them dusted themselves off, the Silent, and Kaila both exchange looks before standing firm. Scrap was puzzled. "But you're no pack mules!" He interjected. "You're people!" "Strong people!" Meddle reminded them as she dusted her knees. It didn't seem like either of them were going to budge, and so it was the kobold's turn to be dejected. Scrap swallowed his pride first, and wandered over to the wagon, and grabbed one of the tongues jutting from the front of the cart, and began to pull. His hands had to be lifted above his shoulder to pull it along, but he could rest the wagon on his shoulder if he wanted to, with some difficulty. Clutching it tightly, he began moving forward and managed to move the wheels oh-so-slightly. He grunted with the exertion, and had to hold his breath as he exerted himself. Meddle watched him try with mild interest, before walking behind the wagon and giving it an experimental shove. Right away, it moved quickly, and the kobold was encouraged. "You've made the right choice, then, leaving this to us!" She announced, leaning against the wagon. "Smart choice, good choice! Yes indeed!" Then, her weight shoved the wagon forward, the wheels turned, and the wagon slowly teetered forward, before picking up speed as the ground began to dip into a gentle hill downwards, sped up by the unwary Scrap pulling on it. "You're right," He gasped. "This is eas-iiiiiiie!" The wagon began shuttling downhill, picking up speed and for a moment Scrap was nearly pulled beneath it into the slowly moving wheels. The kobold clutched the tongue he'd been pulling for dear life as the ground began to race by, and the woods around him began to speed by, and only getting faster. Meddle panicked, and thought it was wisest to start running down the hill after the wagon. "Hold on, Scrap!" She hollered down the trail. "We'll catch up!" The little kobold hurtled down the hill, following the trail. Scrap didn't hear her, but slowly climbed upright on the tongue to right himself. The wagon crashed against bone spurs hanging from the trees, and snapped branches and knocked over buckets full of stones along the trail as it tore the road to pieces. Ahead of him, the trail was beginning to even out, and hopefully the wagon would stop as well. It rolled down the road, and didn't slow down. Not right away. A tree raced towards the wagon--or did the wagon race towards the tree? Scrap covered his eyes, and the tree rushed up to meet them. It hit a rock and the wagon bounced up for a second, and narrowly missed the tree, before flying off the road and down the ditch along the side of the path and deeper into the woods and brush. Meddle followed the deep gouges in the trail down to the road, before pausing to catch her breath. The deep marks led off the trail, and deep into a thick brush on the other side of the road. "How did he manage to get the wagon into the woods?" She complained between heavy breaths. "Why is there even woods there? We're near the mountains and prairies! Who left this here?" She yelled into the woods. Her companions caught up with her, and she turned around to gesture helplessly at them. "Well," She reflected. "I didn't hear it explode! That must mean the wagon is still intact! We gotta find it, so we can get that patent!" The trail is a bit harder to follow once it flies off the road, but it's a wagon, and likely only traveled forward. Following it through the densely packed bushes and low-hanging branches of conifers that have been torn away by the oncoming wagon, it's not hard to find it, resting a few feet from what appears to be a spring of some sorts. It's not difficult to find the other kobold, Scrap, resting on top of it, but his weapon his drawn and plainly visible from a distance. He appears to be looking for something close by. Scrap doesn't see the party closing in. Instead, the kobold keeps his eyes on the pool, and the bushes, and everything close by. He knew he saw it somewhere around here. But where did it go? "Hey Scrap!" Meddle shouted from the bushes. "Are you okay?" Scrap flinched, and ducked down against the wagon, before waving his hands at her trying to keep her quiet. "I said!" She tried again. "Are you oh--" She didn't get to finish speaking up before something erupted out of the bushes in front of her. A bird, the size of a man, shrieked in her face, causing her to fall backwards. It snapped angrily at her, and made several threatening noises, almost like a dinosaur. Another popped up, and then another. The birds, each about five feet tall or perhaps a little more if their plumage was counted. They were a dark blue, and their plumage appeared heavy and warm. likely to keep them comfortable in the cold winter weather. Their beaks were curved and...barbed? When they clacked their beaks, small, sharpened teeth were visible along their length. Their feet ended on three hooked talons the size of knives, and had two joints each. One bird, on Meddle's flank, leapt forward and raked its talons across the kobold's arm, who reflexively brought it up to shield her face. They caught for a moment on her scales before splitting through, and cutting deep, staining her scales crimson. "Meddle, be careful!" Scrap shouted from his perch on the wagon.
  46. 2 points
    -Racial Traits- Speed- A kitsune is able to reach a max speed of 30 mph due to its heritage as fox spirits. Making them quick opportune hunters, able to chase down their prey for extended periods of time with the right cardiovascular workout routines. Strength- Throughout the White Sand’s history, the Kitsune have served as loyal guardians and warriors of the state. They were being seen as a spiritual reflection for the cunning will of the people. As well as a manifestation of their inner spiritual strength. Their people, while far from the most physically strong creatures of the realm, can be as much as 2x stronger than their human counterparts. The increase in muscle density to make this possible also, in turn, makes their muscular system more durable than your average mortals. Flexibility- Nimble and agile by trade, the proud kitsune race are the embodiment of a graceful predator. Able to bend their form as much as the most efficient human contortionist. While benign able to jump up to twice their total heights. From a young age, they are trained in the acrobatics arts, for it is believed that combat is an art form much like a fine waltz. Even those that never taste blood still have an appreciation for the art due to their ancestors and cultural beliefs. Smell- Kitsunes can smell up to 2 miles away in favorable conditions. Aiding them in tracking and chasing down their prey. An evolutionary trait that has surprisingly not weakened with time. While not perfect, the predators can pinpoint the general location and approach of their target. But like any animal, this sense can be tricked with enough wit. Hearing- Their animal-like ears are well-developed tools of their craft, the product of countless years of evolutionary progress. A kitsune's hearing is 3-4 times greater than that of your normal human, permitting them to get the general location of their foe even when their vision and other senses are robbed of them. Poison/disease resilience- Down in the resilience/weakness section of the sheet. Temperature resilience- Down in the resilience/weakness section of the sheet Moth form- The Kitsune form is a state of being only the wisest, and most skilled hunters can achieve. Being able to manifest their inner spirit to the flesh, they are often revered by their otherkin as the apex predators, selected by the ancestors to guide the people with their wisdom and strength. As such, being able to manifest this unique racial transformation is often considered as much as a curse, as it is a blessing. The form ebbs and flows with the inner spiritual will of the host, proving rather malleable in nature. While this form is achieved, their physical strength will nearly double and be allowed to move at speeds up to 200% faster at burst with a 50% boost in sustainable mobility. Their ability to jump increases from 2x their height to 2.5x. The form is often depicted in folklore and art as being a bone-white exoskeleton, with tribal markings embellishing the bestial appearance. Some have fur, others spikes, but all have the same, terrifying demon-like mask depicting the animal they represent. It is because of this mask that many races once thought, and some still do them as demonic spirits and tricksters. Aquaria’s own form is a bioluminescent blueish spiraling pattern throughout, bone-white exterior, and moth-like hair protruding from the cracks and joints of the exterior shell. With two pairs of bioluminescent wings the permit him to fly across the battlefield. His exoskeleton like a chitin able to deflect most sources of piercing damage, yet is susceptible to blunt force such as Warhammer and other such instruments. In this state of being Aquaria becomes the avatar of the moon, fulling embodying its influences. -Unique passive/stances- Stillness (stance)- The Devante art, passed down from generation to generation of the line. A rare, potent ability that grants the user the ability to sense magical properties with semi clarity. This means that while Aquaria can sense something is coming, the exact nature, velocity, angle, mass, or nature of the attack remain obscured. Imagine it like that of the hairs of a fly, while it informs the host of a coming attack or intruder, it doesn't provide a perfectly clear vision of the source. The second effect is the ability to suppress one's own Chi to a near 0, coming off as unimpressive. The mask fading whenever an attack is ready to be made. Making it, so the target has a far limited time to react when contrasted to most users of the arcane/spiritual arts. When achieving this state of mind, the body emits a soft white outline. Magic absorption- Aquaria can grow a pulsating bioluminescence set of moth wings, that will consume all nearby magic from the environment. This does not work on opponent's attacks, however, it can clear up a few magical environmental effects such as fog, sand storms, static lightning clouds, frigid winds, borning winds, cyclones, and steam that is magic-based. Yet darkness or shadow environmental effects will remain unaffected. It can only be activated while in his moth form. Moth stance- This allows the transition of the lunar cycle, the Solar and Lunar arts. After years of practice, Aquaria can combine this dance flawlessly with that of the Stillness art passed down from the generations. Dream walking- A unique noncombat passive, Aquaria does not sleep rather absorbs the energy from the moon to rejuvenate his energy. One negative aspect of this mutation is that he can at times unknowingly slip into the past via echos, or dreams encapsulated in time. While visiting the memories he is unable to alter them, only serving as a passenger to witness the events unfold. This is an ability used for story purposes only, and will not be utilized to gather information unless every party involves in the RP agrees. -Resilences/weakness- +25% Physical and blunt force trauma when the Moth form is active +50%- All light attacks or dark attacks depending on stance. (Only active during Moth form, shadow magic remains unaffected) +50%- Resilience to poison and disease based attack due to racial passive +50% resilience to the effects of temperature. This does not mean ice and fire attacks, rather the cold and heat they produce/ -50%- To current stance, if light darkness (not shadow) if darkness light (not fire or lightning. Only in moth form) -Abilities- Description: Aquaria, is duality made flesh, much like that of our celestial body known as the moon. Two sides of the same astral body blessed by the spirit of the moth. As such, his abilities will contradict each other. Meaning, if he uses a light attack, it will destroy the effects of the dark. And if he uses his darkness abilities, the light will dissipate into nothingness with no mana being restored. Each successful attack will add either a solar counter or a lunar mark. A successful attack also means one that is blocked or parried by either the target or an object imbued with their chi/magic/energy. After five markers, he can unleash his ultimate special abilities. If five solar, just the solar. If 5 lunar, just the lunar. If both dualities can be achieved, the light behaves as superheated particles in the shape of moon crescents, sharp as glass similar to a searing blade. Burning and cutting through unprotected flesh, dissolving shadows, yet having little true mass. As such, even a wave of this attack will not cause a target to budge. Being that the inferno is light-based energy, the burns occur from the inside outward. Unlike fire, which is an exterior burn. Similar to burning an ant with a magnifying glass. While the darkness is more of a heavy mass, generating crushing force and weighing a target down, being struck by a mobile attack is like hitting a thick stone wall. It is important to note, both can never be activated at the same time, minus when 5 markers of each have been collected. At which point, he can shift and maintain both effects for three turns. Before they cancel each other out. (as far as how counters work, each ability will be specified. Keep in mind things are subject to change based on player feedback, and mod demands. As such, feel free to contact me with any concerns. I am rather receptive.) -Solar Abilities- Luminous wings- From the back large elegant, luminous moth-like wings with detailed patterns will sprout. Made from light magic, they don’t provide any utility for flight. They are instead sending forth a blinding pulse of light before flapping forward and backward, generating burning hot winds that can clear debris, hazards, and burn targets launching them backward. The flaps create what appears to be light like dust particles. The burns are far from lethal, yet the kinetic energy generated by the gust at 6 ft can shatter bones depending on the psychology of the target. The force can send anyone or anything under 500lbs flying backward with a max effective range of 20 feet. The winds are cone-shaped and influence both the front and the back. Thus virtually leaving the sides untouched by the effects. This ability doesn’t add a counter of solar. If he moves, the wings will cease their flapping. Yet he can dodge and isn’t locked fully into place. Lunar crescent- Can create a single 6 inches thick and 5 feet wide, crescent shape attack of heated light, capable of burning and cutting flesh yet utterly dispersed by armor or barriers resulting in no apparent effect aside from burning any shadows nearby (2 feet of impact). Incapable of severing limbs or slicing a target in half, as the cut will only be 1 inch deep. The wound will be cauterized from the heat and tissue being cooked from within. As such, the target will not bleed outside of the initial impact. This skill only adds a solar counter if the flesh is hit. Moonlight beam- Able to fire a straight beam of light energy, the beam can only last for 2 seconds at a time and is six inches in diameter. Capable of traveling up to 25 ft, at which point it loses any damage potential beyond that range. Within 15 ft, the beam can melt through steel if held for the whole 2 seconds, anything beyond that, and it can be dispersed harmlessly by armor or magical barrier. If within 15 ft, this adds a counter if blocked, hit, or parried. If beyond 15ft only if the flesh is hit. Solace slash- The blades become coated in superheated light, emitting white fire that when slash creates a line of laser that follows the blades extending their reach to 7ft. Due to the attack being near massless as it is light, the extensions will have no effect on the target as far as kinetic energy is concerned. It can be deflected and dispersed by a magical barrier but can heat armor. While not melting it, causing the skin and flesh behind to be burned by the heat after two slashes to the same area. The beams can not linger unless the blades are in motion. As such, blocking them, or having them strike against armor would result in them fading. Only adds a counter if the flesh is burnt. Lunar flame- Aquaria can conjure a stream of superheated white light resembling that of a flame from his fingers tips. Burning the flesh from all nearby targets as it erupts in a cone-shape. Maximum reach of 13 ft in length and five feet in width. The attack burns the target from the inside out, can be deflected by armor or magical shields of darkness (not shadow). Adds a single solar counter on impact. Solar Ultimate: Moth growth- If five counters are achieved of solar, pincers of light. Capable of attacking a nearby target. The effect will last for only three turns. The pincers again do not provide kinetic energy, can only burn what they hold, and can be deflected by adequate magical barriers. -Darkness Abilities.- (As specified, any use of darkness will end all Solar effects but not the counter. This includes the ultimate.) Shadow Obelisk: Can erect up to two barriers from the dark side of the moon (One per turn), each standing 10 ft tall and 8 ft wide. These dark obelisks are capable of deflecting and protecting against most attacks. The barrier can be consumed by flames but will swallow any and all light that hits them, which are moderate or lesser in scale or power. Intense light attacks, however, will disrupt and disperse them into the wind. The barrier can be erected within 8 ft of the caster in any direction. No counter added. Dark hairs- Able to grow dark, moth-like hair on his palms and feet, permitting him to scale up walls and hang from the ceiling at the expense of constant mana usage. Flame or light attacks will incinerate the hairs, causing Aquaria to fall to the ground. The tiny sharp fibers can pierce through his gloves and sandals, permitting them to be used even when covered. No counter added Abyssal Shard- This permits the generation of a dark, jaded like a spike. Unable to do anything but pierce an opponent through light armor, will appear from the shadows of nearby objects, or from the shadow the opponent may cast on an object other than the floor and their own body (To include even the body of Aquaria). The crystal-like matter can be consumed by Aquaria to add one Lunar counter. It can be incinerated by flames or powerful light sources, Even shattered with a high enough frequency. It can only form within 20 ft of the caster if foreign shadows are around, or an object from which the opponent can cast their shadow. Inky stain- Can create a 20 ft long, 20 ft wide line of slippery darkness serving as a slick road, allowing Aquaria to slide at speeds up to 45 mph across them to evade attacks. In the end, he can fire another to extend its reach; if not, it will end after the 20ft limit. It can also be coated on walls and ceilings to use with his Dark hairs' ability for further utility. It provides no counter and can be incinerated by flames or powerful light attacks. An opponent may slip on the material, however much like any slick surface, it can be negated. Void fingers- Aquaria can coat his fingers in darkness, encapsulating them in a hard diamond-like martial that is jagged in nature. The artificial claws can extend up to 12 feet in length or be launched as a projectile up till 25 ft in a fan shape pattern. Drilling into the flesh of targets in impact, capable of piercing up to light armor. Adds a Lunar counter on a successful hit. Dark Side of the moon- Aquaria is able to create intense darkness, covering a 25ft diameter around himself. The blackness is so potent; it can be felt. No light will illuminate through it; however, large amounts of fire or a powerful gust can disperse it. The thick shade from the moon will remove anyone's sight within, minus the caster. As well as alter their sense of feel slightly, however, the ability to sense magic will not be affected, nor smell. Furthermore, any light-based attacks will be consumed, furthering the reach of the effect. The darkness also will muffle any and all sound, as it’s a sensory deprivation field. It does this by manipulating the vibration of air molecules within. The lack of sound and alteration of the sense of smell, however, does impact Aquaria as a two-edged sword. It is said that those trapped within, given enough time, will go mad. (This is a rumor and doesn’t actually happen unless the player is fine with it for story sake.) The Kitsune can consume the dark field to add a counter. But doing so will remove all beneficial effects it provided. This ability has a three turn cooldown AFTER expiration and may only last for two turns unless light attacks are fed to it, in which case a turn is added per attack. Lunar ultimate: Man on the moon- Covers himself in darkness from head to toe, blurring his movements while also providing a magical armor capable of deflecting lesser magic attacks (Such as a basic magic missile). It provides a boosted defense from physical while enhancing the kitsunes speed and strength by 35%. The armor itself can be dispersed, or burned away with either fire or light magic. Lesser attacks will cause the darkness to wither away from the point of impact, reforming next turn, while potent sources will instantly turn the coating into nothingness. Streams of fire or light will be defended against for 2 seconds before the armor dissipates, giving way to exposed and vulnerable flesh. Ths suit may only last for three turns. -Aquaria's Bio- Prelude War and the pain it brings not even time can fully mend. Though the peasants may move on, and the sacrifices are romanticized by the generations that follow. And even if the scars somehow heal, the influence of those wrinkles forever alters the composition of the land and its inhabitants. The foreboding truth is war has changed; the era of technology has forever shaped the landscape. The eons of honing one's craft rapidly dissolve and fade into obscurity, as the quick resolution of the caster rifle has served as a catalyst to bridge the gap between seasoned, and more green soldiers. The white sands empire is undergoing a cultural, technological, and spiritual metamorphosis that will only further sow divisive seeds of discourse. A storm lurks just beyond the horizon, a battle for the very soul and future of my homeland. My story, my story, is just that of a humble man, thrust into a spiral of self-destruction. A pawn of the state, a weapon of war. Hero to some, an insidious demon to others. The reality is seldom so easy to categorize as the truth often falls in the middle. Like all who live by the sword, I have done terrible things for the right reasons. But good intentions seldom bear benevolent fruit, if only the world were so simple. This is my story, one of the last masters of a dying craft trying to find their place in this ever-shifting sands of his world. Chapter 1, “Forged in fire.” Like all young men, I honored the old ways. Finding peace in “simpler” times, my naivety clear now with the gift of hindsight. Yet during those blissful days of my youth, I found myself blinded and enamored by the honor of conflict. My father instilled in me from a young age that a man’s merit can only be achieved when properly tested by the inferno of war. Like a furnace, the clashing and smoldering heat hammered away a man’s imperfections, leaving behind the true mettle of one’s worth. Even now, despite all that has transpired in my life. I can appreciate the truth in those words. My father never lied to me; rather, I misinterpreted what it was he meant. Casting aside his wisdom and subtle warnings as a sign to further my arrogant delusions of grandeur. It is with great disdain, peering back through the lens of time, that I wish I knew then what I knew now. Like many, I also envy the road not taken, frivolously pondering how things would have turned out if I had turned left and not right. But we are each the masters of our own destiny, the path I set was my own. A reality though bitter and bleak still must be accepted if progress is to ever be made. For the truth is rarely pleasant to behold, easy to shy, then to accept the errors of one’s ways. Easier to find a scapegoat, some nefarious will to cast blame on like some sort of temperamental child. No one made me join the military; no one forced my hand. It was by my own volition, compelled to prove my worth as a man to my father. Through blood, steel, sweat, and tears I would carry our family banner with misplaced pride. It wasn’t till I first gutted a man, and saw what we are truly made of did I understand the folly of this course. I still remember the smell of burning flesh, hair, and the sound of lamentation as we set our enemies' lands ablaze. The trauma of war has two outcomes, it either breaks a man's psyche like a glass bottle into a thousand pieces. That no matter how much you try to glue the pieces back together, they will never be perfect again. Or breaks the man into a jagged weapon, while never hole he can learn to use what he has earned through the tribulations of the war machine to further himself. I was the latter, returning home after my first campaign a different man. Seeing my younger sister training, the sight of which caused my heart to sink with anguish. Matsumota seemed destined to make the same error. Staring into my father's eyes, I finally understood what he meant all those years ago, I have proved my mettle refined like the ore to forge a blade. Yet like a smith, I never once asked myself what it was I would be sacrificing to achieve the end result. I was no longer a boy, no longer a young man in my father and mother’s eyes. But another fool forged in the fires of conflict inheriting the sins of my father. Chapter 2 “The dark side of the moon.” Years passed, two campaigns later as I relaxed within my empire of dirt. I was peering out across the vast expanse of the desert, walking along the edge of the gaped plunge that is the obsidian canyon wearing my metaphorical crown of thorns fit for a liar. The pink sun was rising, it’s soft, inviting glow reaching just beyond the horizon's edge. Most may have heard the orchestra of the birds, succumbing to the dreadful illusion of peace. Yet I heard the rhythmic drums of wars, the distant hoarse singing of steel friction against steel. Dark rumors were reaching my ears days in advance, the local tribes of beastkin uniting, refusing to bend the knee to the changing laws of the land. A hungry, ravenous empire was gorging itself with anything unfortunate to be in its path. Tightening its grip as slowly, I watched our freedoms and future erode away from the tides of “progress.” I felt a kinship with those “less civilized” folk my empire sought to subjugate. Their free will and untethered nature as a culturally enriched nomadic group fascinated me. So one could imagine the depression setting in when the letter arrived, informing me that the crown demanded my blade once more. Gathering my things, I bid my sister farewell. I gave her a soft kiss on the forehead, ruffling that pinkish hair as the bannermen gathered outside of my estate's gate. I remember her tears, yet despite the cherry blossoms being in full bloom that time of year, nothing was truly beautiful that day. Feeling the insatiable need to be strong, serving as her anchor, I would callously march off to war once more. Though deep down inside, I wept, not for my life nor the possibility of death's unforgiving grip. But for the pain war had wrought on our relationship, my lifestyle wounding all those I shared bonds with. Like a fine woven tapestry, we were all interconnected; what disturbs one strand would loosen them all. Like lambs to the slaughter, our superior organization, resources, wealth, technology, and training proved too much for the uprising. Riding on armored scarabs back, with blade drawn, I would barrel my forces beyond their line. The war machine was stampeding rapidly, carving a deep wound that even the bravest of their generals couldn't cauterize in time. It seemed this would be a quick campaign; unlike my peers, I took little enjoyment in torturing and prolonging this conflict. I wanted to end it swiftly, mercilessly, and with an ounce of humanity still left intact. The taste of war bitter, stomach-churning like rotted meat to the palate. The sea of white dunes painted in crimson, littered in corpses to feed the scavengers who waited on the sidelines. Longing for us to depart so that they may enjoy the bounty of our slaughter. Gnoll, Lizardkin, Wulfgar, Goatkin, Giant, Orc, and Ogre alike fell to our blades. The newly formed caster rifles proved a pivotal piece of tech. Even then, staring at the bronze barrel, I could sense what was to inevitably come given enough time. Yet no respite would my weary soul taste, the quick resolution I painted for like fawn does water from the oasis would be denied. My queen wanted to set a new standard, make an example of these foolish primitives who dared to stand valiantly against the winds of change. Riding on beetles back, we traversed the Ashlandian mountains, coming across what my commanding officer mentioned was an encampment. Yet using our spyglass even I could see it was a village filled with women, children, elderly the wounded, and noncombatants. I implored my captain to stand down, pleading that these souls were innocent. As if that would absolve me of guilt, for ultimately, when my words fell on deafening ears, and the order was given, I paused momentarily. Before joining the assault, cutting down a woman trying to flee the onslaught of death. Till this day I hear their screams, I see their corpses and those I considered brothers descended on the innocents like a pack of wolves. They were leaping for the jugular with but glee and unbridled restraint. I did nothing; even as I froze, all I could do was watch in horror, with judgemental eyes cast not inward but on the powers that be. My righteous indignation focused on the wrong target, like a fool seeking another to pin it all on. When the dust settled, the ash caking on the corpses those remaining weeks would bring the end of the conflict. Those once free, those spirits I admired from afar broken, forced to carry the yoke of others. I received many medals that day, shook many hands, and was praised for a job all done. All the glory, joyous celebration of the Emerald City, and new hunks of metal deafened by those cries. I was turning to booze to silence the screams, unable to face the sins. Instead of finding it easier to drown them out with poison so I could get a few hours rest every night. I returned home not like the prodigal son, the envy of the town, and my family. But as a broken, distraught and destructive man. Peering up at the moon, I felt a kinship with the symbol of my birth year. Not for it’s the luminous glow that penetrated the night and veil of darkness. Rather the craters were darting its surface like the wounds of my soul, and the side forever touched by darkness like my battered heart. Chapter 3 “Redemption.” The years rolled by, day in and day out the same routine. Drink myself awake, neglect those around me, drink myself to sleep. I was periodically being called on by my fair queen to squash another rebellion and uprising, birthed within the White Sands borders, as well as beyond. Many more ingenious tribes slaughtered by my hand, their cultures extinguished by the gears of the machine that was the empire’s wars. It seemed for a while that this was the only place left for me in the world, my own dark corner. A job that I was qualified and suited to do. Yet no matter the coin, no matter the fight, no matter the booze. The guilt only grew, the burden becoming heavier with each day as the gaping wound in my heart was left to fester. The infection was running deep, tainting every facet of my life. Even my sister found herself feeding on the negative Chi emulating from her older sibling. Returning home one day, from a foreign concept, I would see the plumes of darkness barreling to the heavens. The house of my fathers, the life I knew ablaze. As the empire had turned its guns and swords toward that little, I still had left to cling to. The soldiers accompanied me, drawing their blades, as I swiftly usurped their ghost from corporeal shells. I was leaving behind the eviscerated husk of my enemies as a testament of the wrath and anguish growing within. Was this the old one’s punishing me for past transgression? No, the so-called higher beings didn’t care about mortals and their existence. If they did, they would have intervened centuries ago to stem the infection our darker nature can bring if left unchecked. There was no grand plan, no design, no purpose behind the slaughter of my people. Ironic, for the first time, I no longer had to guess what my own victims felt like as I turned their own world into pillars of salt. I could experience it, laughing as I drifted down the narrow road, certain death would find me too. Fleeing the desert, I found myself within the fungi forest, wandering the maze of giant mushrooms as the sun would settle from sight. The lesser celestial bodies were twinkling in the sky as a cold autumn eve greeted my flesh. Dropping to my knees, I would place the tip of the blade against my abdomen, convinced ending it all was the only way to find peace. Not because I truly wanted to die, but because I wanted to be released from the cries of the damned who haunted my every step. The lack of booze prevents the sound of silence, let alone a muffle from greeting vexed mind. Yet before the tip could plunge itself into my abdominal cavity, the sound of something crying for help reached my ears. Having nothing to live for, I figured why not die in battle instead. At the time, it seemed poetic, perishing as I lived. But the source was not some fair maiden or a lost merchant on the road being harassed by some highwaymen. But a moth, as large as an eagle emitting a soft glow trapped by a carnivorous shroom. Sorrow filled my heart as I cut the creature free; the intelligent insect showering me with needless unmerited praise. The pest was refusing to just float away, instead of following me as I prepared to once more end my bleak existence. It’s radiant warmth, otherworldly glow, and soothing alien voice placating my demons long enough to speak wisdom. The will of the moon, an ancient spirit of folklore and legend informing me that redemption is never out of grasp. And that if I followed her to her people, they would be able to assist me at a shot at finding acceptance with my devils. Feeling I had nothing to lose, we would head out across the forest before exiting the land I knew as home. Traveling through many foreign sights until stumbling across a pyramid-like structure, tucked deep within a thick, unforgiving jungle. Here moth humanoids greeted me, thanking me for saving and bringing one of their own homes. For many years I would practice my art, fusing it with their own unique style of blade dancing, learning the value of equilibrium between the light and the dark. Edification brings with it a sense of belonging, wholeness, and, most importantly, peace. I dedicated my life to their monk-like ways, studying their ancient tomes and basking in that honorable society. From the moment they wake, till they sleep. Each member worked diligently in the craft to further their own from the greatest aristocrat to the lowliest of stations. I have never seen such commendable discipline. Oneness with the universe and their place in it. While I couldn’t undo the damage wrought by my bloodstained hands, I could use the darkness and the light to bring about a better world. Though what constituted a better world, even their Wisemen and medicine women refused to illuminate upon. They were claiming that every soul, no matter how ill, brings forth good Chi to the world. And no matter how holy, brings forth corrupt Chi. That life wasn’t a matter of good or evil, dark versus light. Rather the balance of the dream, and one’s own position within the cosmic order. -Epilogue- In a dream, I saw it, dragons returning, an undead horde, my motherland at war, and my dear sister suffering. I thought she was dead, foolishly my presumption leading to abandonment. Sweet, innocent Matsumoto now walking the same vile path I did, her own light being encapsulated by darkness. Bidding my friends farewell, I left, traversing the world before me trying to head home. Maria followed me, the moth I had saved earlier. As she said, we were bound, our souls linked ever since I prevented her digestion. No matter my protest, her will, and stubbornness never waned. Begrudgingly I would accept her request, though secretly I enjoyed her company. I pray that whoever may find this will learn from my mistakes, learn that good and evil are merely constructs we create to classify the world. I could have filled these parchments with stories of success, grand ambitions, and my greatest feat. But I, Aquaria Devante, saw fit not to, for we can learn the most from our stumbling. The fall never matters rather how we get up and what we do once we avert our destructive tendencies.
  47. 2 points

    Icicles of Hibiscus Darkness

    "Your wish is granted." Iblis stood before a man on the cusp of middle age. His salt and pepper hair was beginning to recede, and the wrinkles around his eyes had become pronounced. Still, the man was young enough that he should not have needed the aid of a wheelchair in order to get around, yet there he sat. An air of frailty seemed to surround the man, and he looked like even a simple fall might finish him off. The man's wife had informed him that he had taken ill late last year, and never truly recovered from it. It was the kind of story he heard all the time. After a short negotiation, he had secured a satisfactory price before holding up his end of the bargin. Vitality seemed to flow back into the man; his color returning, and his eyes becoming sharp and alert. Most notably, he stood up from his wheelchair and turned to smile widely at his astonished wife. The pair embraced, and suddenly the Djinn was reminded of his own lover. Interrupting his thoughts, the couple thanked him profusely before he made his excuses and left to find a quiet place to teleport away. In the last few months Iblis and Claudette had been living together like husband and wife. Never before had he experienced so many facets of a normal mortal life all at once. He ate meals with the princess, spent time with her just enjoying each others company, and sleeping beside her at night. A strange experience... but not an unpleasant one. Though he knew that Claudette was worried about the pregnancy. He wanted to comfort her, but did not fully understand her concerns. Finding a deserted ally, it took a mere effort of will to return him to their bedroom, where he found Claudette sleeping. Moving with unnatural grace, he lay down beside her, encircling her with his arms. "I've returned," he whispered to her softly.
  48. 2 points

    The Renovation Cosa Nostra

    @Aleksei, @danzilla3 Go ahead and skip Nunzio in the vampire thread this round; I can't think of anything for him to do before Isadora says her peace that would by anything other than a filler post. Not gonna make you wait on me to post something that's basically just Nunzio shrugging his shoulder and being all like "Yeah, ok, what's up Isadora?" 😄
  49. 2 points
    "Well, what now?" Nadia asks, "if ya got a place where the counterfeiters, and only the counterfeiters were, I could sniff them out." Nadia looks at the label on the drill bit set, printed in English. "Do either of you know anything about... ...tungsten carbide?" Zerrorth pipes up. "Tungsten carbide is a hard compound. Not the hardest, but it's up there. Tungsten metal is brittle, and has a really high melting point. It also has the same density as gold." Nadia looks at her. "Whaaaat? I'm a metallic dragon; metals interest me."
  50. 2 points
    saga juliet

    LOTE: Wartime Festivals?

    “Camaraderie?” She laughed. Of course, Tolok was right. He was a free spirit. From the point of view of an outsider the duty soldiers had for one another might have consituted friendship. But that wasn’t quite right. That was family; indeed, an unbreakable string. But it wasn’t tied to much. Family, you didn’t have to like. Family, you didn’t talk of dreams or anxieties with, you didn’t entrust with your heart because a family was not forged from common spirits but rather duty. You protected each other, died for each other, because you were family. Nothing much else. The waitress stopped by. Owend ordered for the two of them, looking to Tolok to ask what he wanted. Her accent changed when she spoke to the waitress. Consonants rolled, vowels reverberated in her throat. There were a few words that the man couldn’t quite catch there. Although everything was written the same way as classical Glian, the speech went beyond him. “My mother was from Onstade,” Owend explained. “When I was in Academy everyone made fun of my provincial accent. But being able to speak the dialect does come in handy when I’m back here. Came here pretty often in my childhood. Though, if you’re going to ask, I’ll tell you that I had lots of friends when I was a child. Had lots of smitten little boys and girls fawning over me…” Owend grinned. “Is that what you expect me to say? Because it’s certainly true enough. Just like anyone’s glorious cherry-colored youth. But you know, things happen. Now I’m sure they wouldn’t recognize me, Lieutenant in the knighthood, and I wouldn’t recognize them, either. I think you were right, actually – camaraderie is a big part of friendship. Just a part, though. But how much camaraderie could you expect after one kiddie summer splashing about on the beach? I think people use that word, friend, too lightly. I think –” Owend paused, thought better of her rant. “Well, what about you? Being the ‘free spirit’ you are, you must have made some friends along the way.” “Nobody out of the ordinary, like all of you.” Darling man, he meant it too. “Oh, come off it. They’re a spectacular bunch, but...well, I take offense to being lumped in with that lot. I think I’m pretty ordinary, myself,” Owend laughed. “We might not be as strong as them, but we can aspire to be better, to help them however we can.” Maybe Tolok had a better sense of what it meant to cross the barrier between ordinary and super-ordinary. Not her, no. She was just an ordinary lass, her. Maybe that was why the future so daunted her. Owend gave him a funny look. “Tolok. I don’t mean to spoil the moment, but...could I ask what you’re doing here?” She held up a glass, watched the waitress fill it back up with wine. “This whole war business. I’m sure that if you weren’t tied down like so – having the Exarch, or now the Princess, tell you where to go and what to do – you probably could’ve made plenty of progress on your own...priorities. Is it just a matter of convenience?” Owend rest her chin on her fingertips. “Though I can’t imagine what’s so convenient about it. You’re from Dodon, too, aren’t you? Not exactly the sort of person I’d expect to be fired up about Isorian injustice.”
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