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Showing content with the highest reputation since 12/18/2019 in all areas

  1. 13 points


    ALTERION As I am sure you all have already seen, Alterion is going through some grueling renovations and the content is being refurbished and tidied up. If only to add some flare. Needless to say, I am about to wreck some...spit. Some time ago I placed a ‘Canon Collecting’ post to engage those RPers who worked on content in Alterion that requires notice by us (the board members) to which I only received one request/remembrance of canon. That’s why this is now here. With that in mind this thread is for gathering members who would like to own land in Alterion. Some areas already have lore, others do not… Please feel free to do with it as you'd like. Please make sure to read over the main lore page for Alterion to get an idea of its theme and content. (It will be changing soon into a more wild and natural region...) That way, when you start creating, you don’t have to hold back. Food for Thought...: The Hollow is going to be a destructive event used to tear Alterion down so that it can be used as a fresh foundation to build upon. Participate in the upcoming event to claim land and/or loot? Join in the rebuild of civilizations after the event? Sectors/Areas up for grabs (or if you just have an idea and need a place to bring it to life but don’t want to be in complete control of it, we’re always open to that) : Cosanastre: @Aleksei as Nadia Royce will become the new Ruler of Cosanastre and its people. Sector 1: Kageroth Province Sector 2: Chamre Sector 3: Opharion Province Sector 4: Vysroth Province Sector 5: Seroth Province Sector 6: Arysene Province Sector 7: Zompoc Province Sector 8: Brummagen Province Arkadia Prime: @Meraxa WIP by Meraxa Izral Each of these areas can be renamed and have new lore attached to them. Facility-05 @Sanonymous Luka'reccia Kitashiobara Minaiki Kimpusen-ji Devla (formerly known as Devla Desert): @-Lilium- Daius Industry Conservatory Fantas-Menagerie Babel Corporation Subsidiary Lands of Alterion Please take a look at the Bestiary both for Alterion and Fantas-Menagerie and feel free to incorporate any of the creatures there if you so wish. And always feel free to create your own and send them to me so I can add them to the master list as well! Create your own area in the free lands? MaGNUS Forest Kageroth Mountains Vysroth Peak What does this mean? You can read over the ones that already have lore and send me your own version should you choose to rewrite it. Keep it as it is and roll with it. Take the opportunity to write and build your own little megalopolis within Alterion. What do we need from you, should you choose to accept this offer? Write lore. Dedicate some(not necessarily every living moment) time to your sector to keep up with the changing world of Valucre and the lands of Nehalen that we now fall under. Pay attention to updates, the Alterion lore as a whole, as well as that of Kadia and Nehalen to make sure you know what’s going on around your area and how it may affect your lore. Be active in special events we(the board members) create, create your own events(submit for approval beforehand), engage with other sector members to make alliances/civil war/etc. And never be afraid to ask questions! If you are concerned, have questions, don’t understand something...just ask! Last but not least, we need your understanding. As you can see paradigm is currently away due to real life and I cannot always be around either. If you need some help, drop me a line in a Valucre PM and I will respond as quickly as I am able. What I will do for you: Review & read your content. Make approvals as quickly as possible and as necessary. Collaborate with you if you need a hand. Write with you if you need an extra body in a thread. Request tags for your area(s) from our overload supernal for you. Be there for you when you need me, within reason. What am I up to in Alterion and on Valucre? Upcoming: The Hollow [Event] Coming soon to the Alterion near you...(very soon) Daius Industries merger with Babel Corporation of Nehalen Grand Opening of Fantas-Menagerie Unveiling of the new Daius Industries Conservatory of Izral World Technology Summit that will be held in Nehalen Catered by Precious Pastries (of course) Currently: Organizing/Refurbishing/Adding Content & Flare to Alterion Prepping all the information for Upcoming Events Other RP stuff all over Valucre.
  2. 8 points
    🌙 𝑳𝒖𝒏𝒂


    Hello hello! New to the forum scene and I'm excited to write and make new friends here! I'm 28 and started on Yahoo chat. I play video games (currently playing FFXIV), watch anime and some TV! I do graphic design on the side and speak a few languages. (English is my third language) Happy posting and can't wait to dive deeper into this community. ❤
  3. 7 points

    How much lore do you look for?

    Just something I've been wondering for a while When browsing lore of locations (cities, landmarks, nations, etc.) how much lore do you look for? How much detail do you need to be able to rp comfortably in the setting, or what details are enough for you to go by? Do you prefer detailed lore that outlines every notable aspect of a location -- down to breeding patterns of local wildlife, plumbing and waste disposal, etc. -- or is a general description of the location's appearance good? Do you prefer having all the details at hand, or do you want enough freedom to exercise your creativity? How much lore is enough?
  4. 7 points

    Deleting old character sheets

    This caught a fair bit of people off guard despite the announcement. I plan to make an archive temporarily available in 2020 to allow people to grab / repost their sheets
  5. 6 points
    They had travelled the deep road. Yes, there was the highway. The road that stretched across the land to link their two cities. But the lord Téshuk had insisted against. It was not the way, he had told them, meaning both the literal form of passage, but also the means in which their task was to be done. Their task one that was quite suddenly arranged, at the Governor of Totenborough had realised that 'the time' was upon them, but that his subjects knew nothing of it, nor that they should prepare. But with only weeks to go, they had managed it. Though with all their load to take through the tunnel that led up to the Hydra Scar, and then from there travel westward unto the breach of Lunaris, that was itself another few days of travel. Téshuk had led all the way throughout, clearing by his will any path that could not so easily take the carriages and carts. There was however, a realisation that this was itself part of the tradition - that he and he alone must lead the way. Even when they stopped to rest at nights, measured only by the clock than by sunlight, Téshuk still held himself at the forefront, nor did he slumber; vigilant in his duties as he was able to be. But yes, they had travelled the deep road, and from it emerged, a long caravan that itself stretched for many hundreds of metres, loaded with many goods and decorations. When they arrived at the treetop city, its homes cut from and built into the woodland that surrounded and ran throughout it, there was only one moment of pause, taken by Teshuk to process it all. How the world truly was different and changed from as it had been, however long ago it was that he stood among the living. Still, he willed his entourage on, and they made their way through the streets. The sheer physical stature of Téshuk, along with his presence, and the length of the caravan behind him, drew curious and expectant eyes from all around. Many, sat high within their homes, were content to look down upon and distantly observe the passing, able to follow it for miles with but slight turns of the head. For others, the only way to follow the procession was to do so physically, trailing along behind it. This then only made the crowd grow ever greater, as it became something of novelty and curiosity for those whose days who had become accustomed to outside intrusion representing malice and threat, rather than mystery and fun. They wondered where this giant had come from, and where he was going with all this bounty. The former could answered through whispers that fluttered through the crowd: This was Téshuk, Governor of Totenborough, the esteemed and mysterious Titan himself! But as for the reason of his presence, that remained utterly unknown, and his servants would not share it. That too, was apparently part of the tradition. The procession, caravan and crowd both, swept through the city, heading north west. Téshuk ran his fingers along the vines that raced towards their summit, coating the ancient walls of Cair Loeren. Through them, he made a summons. An act that might have seemed impudent, but it was meant to be bold; in truth as well, he saw little distinction in rank between him and the one he summoned. But as such messages are scarcely hidden in Lunaris, it whipped the crowd into a frenzy. How could he? How DARE he?! Did he not know to whom he spoke?! Yet still, they followed, and Téshuk went. They stopped all at once before withered steps, and before the one who espoused to be lord and master of all the realm. One who had been wounded, yet lived as Téshuk did not. A small being, yet perhaps the only one here who might stand larger than the Titan. The Titan who snapped his fingers, and so beckoned two of his followers to bring up a long chest; from their fingers it lifted, being made of stone, and by Téshuk's will, came to rest at the Regent's feet. The stone that sealed it shut slid away, and revealed within, along a bed of silk, two rings - one of ruby laid in silver, and another of sapphire in gold. Let us be as one. Was the sentiment that came from Téshuk; his will without spoken word. It may have a taken to process, but then, his will clarified that he meant the cities, not him and the Regent as individuals. It would be in the union of cities that they would mark the year anew; the start of new opportunities, and the start of new - or renewed - love. As was tradition. With its confirmation, so would Téshuk's caravan begin their adornment of the city. Shades and filters for the wickblooms that turned their natural light into many colours and shapes. Gifts to the children of the city, a foundation on which they might build new directions and new interests to follow for the year, and perhaps keep with them the rest of their lives. Craftsmen of all arts would share their works, and the skills with which they made them, with the people of the city, gifting these to all - that chose to afford them - rather than just the children. Once each week, for four weeks, as the necessary supplies arrived, there would be a great feast held at the heart of the city, sharing what delicacies and tastes the people of Totenborough had kept from the old world, and what they had discovered in the new. As the people ate then, they would expected to take their loves in hand - whether desired or already held - and dance, promising to each other the prosperity of a new year. Some might have labelled it a festival, but Téshuk did not seem to understand the concept so. Rather to him, this was what this time of year was for. New Beginnings, New Love, and Renewal. Built on the bond of the land, as was tradition. This was, as he spoke audibly but once, with voice like stone grinding upon stone, Wosatnos.
  6. 6 points
    The sight of the Twistlings, the creatures who had killed his first squad, was not something that did any favors for Jack's mental condition. In fact, it threatened to drive him over the deep end again, forcing Scoot and Chief to continue trying to hold him down, as he scratched and clawed for his revolver to try and do Gaia-knows-what. As the two men tried to slap some sense into Jack, Melanie stepped in front of them and raised her flamethrower. "Don't'cha worry boys, I got you covered while you have your therapy session! I know all about those, they can be intense," she winked at them, before bracing herself for the impending attack.
  7. 6 points
    The duo's trek into the lab was mostly uncontested and uneventful. After jumping off their bike and having said bike transform into what seemed like a wheeled luggage, a contra ption similar to what Shishi and Linda used in Dougton. Entering the lab was simple enough for the two as both are masters of both advanced technology and the properties of electromagnetic waves. Finally, they gazed their eyes upon the infamous doctor, one of those responsible for the hell everyone is in. Should they chastise the woman then, as if they have the right to stand in a more moral high ground? Most probably, yes. "And to get it out of the way, yes. We opened pandora's box, yes." "YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" Sera spat at the woman. "WHAT KIND OF DUMB FUCK PISS ASS SHITTY SON OF A BITCH BRAIN YOU HAVE INSIDE THAT HEAD OF YOURS? Are you fucking asking us to clean up your motherfucking mess-?" Unfortunately, Sera was unable to finish her words as Khakina delivered a strong chop to the back of the mad woman's neck. With Sera placated, it is now her turn to speak. "We had expected better of you given what you and your organization stood for. You should have been containing these things not letting them out. The Mistress thought highly of you but you have proven yourselves unworthy of my Mistress' regard." The little girl paused, her face tinged with sadness and pity. "You disappoint us."
  8. 6 points
    "And to get it out of the way, yes. We opened pandora's box, yes." [Brett] "So you unleashed the horrors upon the world that ended many lives. So much lost and gone, families dead, little survivors and even less amount of hope! I watched my entire crew die right before my eyes. One of my best friends was torn in half, my other friend was squashed by titan, there's nothing left of him by the way, and my daughter was literally eaten alive! You give me a reason why I should help you. Look, sorry for you blokes here to see that outburst but I have extreme emotions for what has happened during these years and now knowing they are the ones who caused this shite to happen but I'd be surprised that those of who have lost loved ones right in front of you and you not want to yell or something." [Blaze] "I have spoken to many dead during these years of being alone, you have done something unforgivable and deserve to be cut down where you stand. So yes, give us a reason to help, and me one to not take your souls." [Ivan] Teresa's jaw nearly dropped at the absolute emotional stupidity the man and woman next to her were allowing to spew from their mouths. It was truly amazing how not even the harshest of times increased awareness and observational abilities. Instead, however, Teresa just scoffed. Loudly. "Bunch of goddamned bleeding hearts, huh? We've all lost things important to us, get the fuck over it," she said with barely a look in their direction. "They're the VCF; everyone already knows the VCF caused the world to go to fuck. The os-01 message said as much and that shit's been around for years." Teresa whipped out her walkie and shook it in their direction as she mentioned the message, replaying the beginning. "Start priotizing the world over your own inconsequential emotions. And reason? Are you deaf or has this place turned your memory to mush? The only reason any of us bothered to carry our asses to this gaia-forsaken piece of shit city is because they've said there's a device here that can alter the timeline." She drew her sword and positioned herself between Dr. Brett and the two angry travelers looking ready to fight. "And if you continue to threaten the only people who can potentially fix this shitty world, I will fight to my very last breath to make sure both you die before you can get your blind revenge. Teresa's white-blood stained wings expanded, blocking all view of Brett from the other two, her eyes set hard as her killing intent encompassed the room with a heavy, suffocating pressure . No one would get in her way. Not since she'd finally found a potential solution. Everyone should have heard the same message and known that this was probably their last chance to fix the world. Why they would threaten their salvation was beyond Teresa. What was the point of revenge in the face of being able to make it so that none of it ever happened? But in the case that it failed and nothing changed, well, then and only then, would the doctors behind her pay with their blood. But only then.
  9. 5 points
    Hooooooooooooooooooooooly. I have been waiting on this one class to release grades, and I was shaking in my boots (quite literally) for two weeks. I thought I was going to fail -- but the curve bumped me to an A-. Not sandbagging, but I am on Cloud 9 right now. TIME TO PARTY!
  10. 4 points

    Time Stone: Acquiesce

    Artamese was leaned back in her chair, eyes resting when Xartia’s yelling startled her awake. She did the only thing that seemed illogical (for she wasn’t readily near a wall to reach out for) in that she clutched her chair and braced for whatever was coming. But nothing came—not in the manner she was expecting. Instead the faint sound of someone screaming ended with several dull but concerning thuds outside the cabin. Much like Arthur had, Artamese reached for a sheathed dagger attached to her harness. Her glasses were still perched on her nose when the door was opened unceremoniously—and without knocking. There stood a drenched and shaking woman, with all manner of luggage in tow. Artamese swore profusely with irritation—in Genesar, Terric and Vaadenian for good measure as she irritably sheathed the dagger and made herself useful with helping the poor sod with hauling their luggage inside while giving her a quick once-over from head to toe. Satisfied but distrustful, she slipped around the woman who approached and peered outside and around. Where in bloody hell had this woman come from? Her glasses could detect the faint whisps of magical essence but not the usual "leftovers" she was used to seeing when magic was cast. So maybe she didn’t port in—but the thudding earlier suggests she may have fallen... Arthur was already on the move, chasing the tail end of her thoughts to check and see if there was any damage to the ship. She didn’t immediately close the door behind him. While she trusted Xartia’s magic and the company which she was with (else, why would Xartia call on them for such an arduous journey?), she didn’t trust being holed up in a cabin. If something happened right then and there, she wanted out. Still, Artamese knew she had to bite down on the reflex to distrust even Raveena’s decisions. The Queen wouldn't give just any ship to Xartia. All the same, trust wasn’t something she had in spades these days. “How nice of you to drop in.” She greeted dryly as she sank back into the chair with a sigh. “Normally you join us before the ship disembarks.” @Twitterpated @Etched In Stone @Voldemort @Artificer
  11. 4 points


    salutations for i am envoyd; i am not new to the role-playing world, but i am here. i am interested in meeting new individuals, who are interested in writing stories with one another.
  12. 4 points

    The First Feast of Blades

    “Oh…we are informal already then Xartia? Such comfort for someone thrust into this arrangement at the whim of a new acquaintance. Had I an official title worth flaunting I would make sure it escaped your lips many times today but I suppose Ilyana shall suffice.” Once upon a time, Xartia was a man full of hubris; A dangerous amount at that. He used to pride himself on his titles, verbal badges of recognition acknowledging his accomplishments. For better or worst. Most of his titles if not all of them bared a common history of blood and death. All the ones he'd acquired prior to relocating on the face of this very world. While there were far and few individuals that knew him from the past, most of them knew him in good standing. The more rare knew of his dark history, and merely chose not to exploit that against his favor. The rarest forgiving him for past transgressions directly. IT'S ALL TRADITIONAL HUMAN CUISINE! YOU'D THINK THEY'D HAVE SOMETHING EXOTIC, WHAT WITH ALL THEIR SPACESHIPS, LIKE LIVE GAGH OR FIENDISH DIRE RAT SAUTEED IN BUTTER! I PEEKED ON THE WAY OVER, AND IT LOOKS LIKE THEY JUST HAVE ALL THE REALLY POPULAR FOOD TO MATCH THEIR REALLY POPULAR RECTANGULAR TABLES THAT REINFORCE OPPRESSIVE, OUTDATED SOCIAL CONSTRUCTS PROMULGATED BY AUTOCRATS AND A STAGNATING HEGEMONIC CLASS! “Nothing like the food at Club Tablillas and clearly uninspired. Perhaps the Order is low on funding and could not spare spending money on someone anywhere near your caliber Cammy. If we see anyone who can make the appropriate changes we have to let them know what a dire mistake they’ve made…” The cat girl chimed in before he could verbally respond to Ilyana's mildly patronizing remarks. True and unchanged to his nature, the Cambion ultimately felt no burning desire to explain himself. To explain how he'd grown beyond the want to cling to empty titles, as well as the false feelings of import they produced. Xartia had after all only taken his seat on the council as a favor to the Queen herself, for he also no longer desired to lead or rule over any amount of persons. "Transportation and import of specific off-world goods is a an uneconomic affair, especially in the perspective of catering to as broad an audience as possible. Nevertheless, if it would please you, I may be able to ask our kitchen staff to accommodate your requests as closely as possible. I apologize beforehand of course, if it does not meet the approval of your palate, as we receive very few guests of your class here" “Oh look. There she is with such impeccable timing. Isabella! Don’t drag your feet beautiful. Come, join us!” "I do hope she found her friend alright." Speaking of friends, he noticed a couple of his beyond Isabella; Arthur, and Enid. It'd been even longer since he last seen Enid compared to the likes of the Black Mage. Still, they seemed to be enjoying themselves in the wake of what was largely seen as a parade. With his own party just now getting reunited, he'd refrain from separating it again so soon. Perhaps after having a bite to eat he'd go say hi. For now he sufficed by moving to pull out Cammy's chair, one either next to or directly across from Ilyana whom took the liberty of beating him to the punch. Once Isabella drew nearer, he too worked to pull her seat out for her. "Welcome back dear, I take it you're feeling well enough to be trusted with food this time around?" He joked with her about her sickness that followed a heavy breakfast they shared the day before. While Xartia himself was ready too eat, he was all too curious what Cammy might request instead. Since arriving here he'd tried a few dishes exclusive to this world, though nothing so exotic as to be called far fetched. @Dolor Aeternum @The Alexandrian @Pasion Pasiva @Fierach
  13. 4 points
    Ivan listened, his anger going to a low simmer as the woman spoke. They were right after all, killing anyone here wouldn't do them any good, they needed to make sure this never happened ever again. His staff disappeared and he stepped up to the monitors. The images were no more disturbing than what'd he'd seen on the outside. Undead roamed ruins and unspeakable monsters flew through the skies. He shook his head, placing a hand on the counter. "So what is the first step, where are we to go, what are we to do?"
  14. 4 points

    Time Stone: Acquiesce

    SCENE: HIGH ABOVE THE PEREGRINE LAYELIA ASTRAPÉ LEUCETIUS As winds swept past, Layelia could taste the salt in the air. After being in Port Kyros for so long, she had become accustomed to the sea brine which left no corner of the city untouched. Still — to live by the ocean of all places. She had never pictured herself living on the coast. It was only by the suggestion of the City Ruler that both she and Fraenir ended up in The Port. If it weren’t for that fated meeting with The Countess, the young mage may have never escaped her pursuers — never found a place to call home — never reunited with her sworn-sister Vera. Thus, Layelia owed much to Raveena. With sealed letter in satchel, the young Leucetius would fulfill the request: Watch over Artamese. Thus, it was because of a single letter that the duo found themselves high above The Peregrine in the endless skies which overlooked the Great Northern Sea. Hand running over the smooth, turquoise scales of her companion, Layelia looked out towards the ocean which peeked from below the sheet of white, cotton clouds. The shifting facets of the deep blue water shimmered with the final colors of the setting sun — a jewel pane of dancing flames and pristine sea. A masterpiece which lasted only a moment. A scene which Layelia could find herself staring at for eternity. And when that sun had finally crossed over the horizon, a sweet sigh escaped the girl’s lips. Gently, she rested her head on the dragon’s nape. There, she could feel the warmth which pulsed through Fraenir’s body — the steady beating of his heart. “Fraenir,” she began, words carried in on barely a whisper, “We really must do this more often.” There was silence, but she did not expect a response. The dragon was fickle with his affections and was not the type for sentimentalities. Even though they had been traveling with each other for well over three years, Fraenir was hard of heart. Though their minds were linked, there was a part so deep, so tumultuous, that even through their connection, Layelia could not pry past its guards. Every time she dove, she choked — drowned — on something festering inside of him. It wasn’t just anger, nor was it just sadness. It was a deep, rooted loathing towards a target Layelia could not pin down. Despite her curiosity, she dared not bring it up for fear of inciting his wrath. He hated humans, that part was for certain, but this loathing was towards a person. True, they had been together for quite a while now, but... The question was, was the one he hated her? Then, to the girl’s surprise, he replied — voice soft, gentle, melancholy even. Four words more than anything she would have expected from the creature a year ago. “Yes — Yes we should.” * * * * * FRAENIR OF SIGURTHYR Stars twinkled as dusted diamonds swept in the wind. An ocean’s night was clear — unpolluted by the artificial lights of magic which plagued Kyros. Out here, the dragon could bask in starlight, sea breeze, and the crescent moon’s emerging rays. It had taken so long for his scars to recover. He had almost forgotten what it was like to glide so high up — the air flowing between his scales, flowing onto his face. It was a freedom that only those with wings could truly experience: the liberation granted only through flight. Dipping just below the clouds, he surveyed The Peregrine. Amber eyes went over the features of the ship, looking for any signs of movement. Now that the ship was heading out into open water, most passengers were inside, save for the one man — if he was even a man. It was the individual the dragon had seen from when he was high above the sea wall. The person’s limbs were long and features... unnatural. No human eyes were that shade of lurid orange. That man, robed in midnight, had been doing things with the ropes and sails and such for quite a while — things that Fraenir knew not. When the spindly man finally went back into the depths of the ship, the dragon knew that it was the best chance for them to go aboard the ship. “Layelia,” he began, “— Perhaps now is a better time than any to descend. I doubt it will take long for those on the ship to notice us flying above them — even with your witchcraft.” The people below seemed all capable in magic, and there was no chance of hiding themselves from Artamese. Unexpectedly, there was a hiss followed by a tiny kick to the leading edge of his wing. Serpentine eyes narrowed. “Careful. You would not want to lose your shoe now — you know we did not pack any extras,” he crooned. “If it falls into the ocean, I am not fishing it out ~” “Stop obfuscating! I’ve told you that witchcraft is a barbaric, degrading term! The proper term is artificery — or perhaps even a common concealment. I’ve explained this to you countless times already. Have you no head for magic?” “Oh?” At this comment, the dragon simply laughed. You didn’t need a head for magic. Only fools needed maths or science to harness it. True magic was feeling the flow of things — the weave which spanned this mortal world. If he wanted to hide himself, then he only need ask — twist the threads to his will. No need for mists, mirrors, or whatever Layelia concerned herself with to make the illusion. One only needed will and spirit for true magic. In the dragon’s opinion, the girl had talent, but wasted it on study. True magic came with practice — not research. The charm she had made to conceal them was no more than a painted veil which hung loosely around them — a falsity of fake sky and fake clouds. Any mage with their wits about them could see through it if they knew where to look. “Ah yes, unfortunately I do have a head, but if you would like, I could pretend I do not have one,” he mused. “I recall hearing from my sea-born brethren that a dive in the ocean at this time is most refreshing.” He could feel the girl’s apprehension on his lips. Fantastic. “Feeling a bit nervous, are you not, Layelia? I am just going for a swim.” he said nonchalantly. “Fraenir... you best no—AHHHHHHHHHHT!” — And with that, he curled his wings in, dropped, and dove straight down like an arrow towards the sea. By the gods, he loved teasing her. * * * * * LAYELIA ASTRAPÉ LEUCETIUS That calm, pleasant night had all but vanished. Somehow, the young artificer had gone from relaxing, to scolding, to falling from the sky. Stands of flaxen hair flew wildly as the girl clung to the Fraenir’s neck for dear life. Her eyes squeezed shut as the piercing rush of air whistled along the dragon’s scales. Surely if the men below didn’t notice them then, they would now certainly hear the sound of a dragon hurtling towards their ship. If they didn’t, they were deaf idiots like Fraenir. With a silent prayer to Zare, she just hoped that the dragon remembered that if she died, he himself would also die. A rush of air — a sudden deceleration. Her own lilac eyes opened to survey the scene. In her mind’s eye, she felt the dragon’s wolfish grin as if it were her own. Without warning, the dragon spun, dropping her from the air, and out of the range of the common concealment. Given the circumstances, it was only natural that Layelia let out a girlish scream. By the gods, she hated Fraenir. — If she hadn’t fallen into netting of the ship’s shrouds, she would have died. At that point, the dragon's idiocy had been confirmed. Several loud thuds resounded on deck as bags filled with their stuff hit the main deck. The nerve! Didn’t Fraenir remember she had glassware on her? The girl looked out towards the sea for the turquoise monstrosity, but to no avail. The shroud of magic which hid Fraenir from sight was her own work after all. In the distance, she heard a loud splash. Then, every inch of her skin contracted with a freezing chill. By the gods, she could feel the icy waters passing through his scales as the damned lizard swam. Weren’t the oceans supposed to be warm in The North!? Really, she hated Fraenir. She also hated their sympathetic link. Their experiences were shared in some sense — the sensation of touch being the most in tune. No privacy. No nullification of its effects. What happened to him, happened to her, and vice-versa, which served the dragon's impish nature quite well. Teeth chattering madly, Layelia untangled her splayed limbs from the ropes, and when she was free, she climbed down from the railing and onto the main deck. Adrenaline pumping, she shakily picked up the bags that were so casually tossed onto the floor. Zare, she was cold. Surely the rooms inside would bring her some semblance of warmth. She needed a fire. Going to the most ornate door, she opened it, joining Xartia's entourage. She was finally in the main cabin, but she was no warmer. Damn that dragon, she thought. Then she froze. After the fall, there was no telling how she looked. Sure, her long, beige, trench coat came out unscathed, but she could only imagine with horror what her face looked like at the moment. Her cheeks were probably erubescent while her fair skin was definitely flushed with sweat. Was her hair messed up from the fall? Lace-braided ponytail unraveled? Disheveled? It didn’t help that there was an inhuman with orange-eyes. She was already shivering like a fool — what more her knees quivering in fear? She had always been a coward at heart, and in the current state she was in, there was no hiding it. Distractions. Layelia needed to distract herself. Which one of them is Xartia? Need to give him the letter... Her eyes darted between the three men inside the luxurious room, but who was the recipient of Raveena’s missive? Standing there like an idiot, she fished the letter from her satchel. Family. Pretty. Wealthy. Up to no good — The written word of Raveena in her cursory description of Xartia. Wealthy. The mage remembered the carriage with mares of flaming stride. Hands clammy, she shoved the letter into the pale-skinned man's chest. “La-Layelia,” she sputtered before turning back and out of the main cabin. There had to be other halls to wander that were away from people. She was too flustered to face anyone at that moment. She would have to brutally torture Fraenir later for this embarrassment. On a separate note, the missive would describe what Xartia needed to know about her unexpected arrival on the ship. In short, the paragraphs contained the time and date of the ship’s departure, a four-word description of Xartia, and a section which stated that both Layelia and Fraenir would be joining the expedition in order to watch over Artamese. Of course, the words stipulated that the two would assist Xartia if need be. Xartia was like family to Raveena after all. Marking the letter as an official message from The Countess of Port Kyros, the bottom of the parchment had both Raveena's signature and seal. On the front, the words ‘To Xartia Pendragon’ were penned in finest ink. — If only Layelia had given the letter to The Cambion and not The Vampire. @Etched In Stone @Twitterpated @Malintzin @Voldemort
  15. 4 points

    The Stronghold of Storms

    The vampire had cursed and spit when she beheld the elder sister's coat, and her grip had held little effect upon their throat. On the one hand, they had managed to response swiftly enough as to evade the elder sister's response in full, leaving one to stand in that shimmering sphere of light, not two. On the other, it was a few of her bats had not quite escaped it, and so were suddenly submerged by a power that willed them back into the lumps of flesh they should have been. The only blemish to the vampire's face, suckling upon the pilot's neck, was that of such a lump missing from her right cheek, revealing there some of the bone. One would suspect then that any other absences of material were scatted across her body, and thus hidden by the fabrics of her dress. Fortunately, for her at least, the first bit of blood she had consumed was already serving to amend this issue-- Wait, no... She choked, her essence and that of the man erupting from the wound. Uncertainty and fear flickered in her eyes; something so raw and afraid, clearly inexperienced with the evident thought of this not immediately and easily working. But it did, sorta. The vampire withdrew her fangs from Josh's neck, sputtering as the mixture of fluids fell from her face. With some of it still upon her fingers, her fingers began to flutter through a variety of arcane symbols, while words of power slipped across her tongue. She wasn't just a vampire, she was a vampire sorcerer. A conflagration erupted from the gap between her fingers, greater than even she anticipated, if her widening eyes were any indication. Though the air immediately surrounding the elder sister would be incapable of ignition, flames that were already lit - air already subject to combustion - were no longer a thing of magic themselves, merely a product of a process. As such, that searing, rampaging heat would fly at the elder sister, its master intent on subsuming her in its wrath. But, it was not the only thing to which she might be master. If Josh had reacted as any other would to what the vampire had afflicted him with, then he would not be... quite so turned, as the stories say. He would not have been made an equal to the vampire, whose name he now knew - by sheer instinct of blood - to be Sofía. But his body would have ceased to care for mortal limits of the human physique - if such ever confined him - and instead push itself to the utmost limit, as though acting on an unending supply of adrenaline. Not because it was or because such a level of physical performance was somehow without consequence, but that his body, if subject to this sublimation, had simply ceased to care about such consequences. What did it matter that his hand might buckle upon impact, if it could be in service of his master? Such service... he could feel... was the desire to erase the enemies of the master, through whatever means were available. "What the-?!" The vampire suddenly spoke in shock, at the image of what appeared to be a tiger suddenly manifesting at her side. The hand with which Sofía cast her flames whipped around, redirecting the torrent of flame towards this target, either forgetting the first was there, or perhaps hoping the Elder Sister had been rendered little more than ash by this stage. How long did the devil wearing the skin of a man climb those steps? Well, his senses would surely be able to tell it truly: Five or so minutes, give or take. But he would feel and know what had been intended for those that took that path, presumably without permission or proper preparation. An ailment of the senses, subtle enough in its placement as to remain undetected by all but the most acute in the arcane arts, yet strong enough its conviction as to be difficult to resist for all but the same. A distortion of the perception of time, making some such sections of the climb feel like an age, while others gave such a sense of swift progression as to then make the 'longer' sections seem all the more arduous. But the journey came to an end all the same: Exiting unto the entrance of a presumably grand hall. Other stairs and paths led to this place, suggesting that somewhere in the depths, there other ways to reach it. But that creature - that vampire - he had left far below had direct means of going to and from this place, undisturbed by any other. And there were others. An 'organised rabble', as oxymoronic as the term might otherwise be, would be likely be the most apt description of this band. Set to either side of the entrance, clustered in loose formation but ultimately choosing how and where they stood of their own accord, it was clear this was by no means a traditional, conventional, or even really military force. These were brigands, bandits, or perhaps even more plainly, people; though they were armed in a fashion that belied sinister intent. Some bore equipment clearly 'gifted' by the armed forces of one Odin Haze, whether willingly or not. Others had seemingly shaped their own blades, with a level of craft that seemed amateur at best - but even an amateur blade need only be sharp enough to cut the skin. A few others bore items that might have seemed of interest to the one that approached them, but at his approach, they stepped back. Not out of fear - though there was a hint of it all the same - but as a welcome, the doors of heavy sarsen swinging open as part of the same. "Well... you're certainly something, aren't you?" "By no means are you a servant of my master... but there is much akin in you to him. There must be, for you to alarm my old senses so. An irony, don't you think? That the rejection of all that is foul and unholy, should itself be a way to discern who may be an ally to our cause?" The elder matriarch - and it was quite clear, stood before a vast and empty throne of smooth stone at the end of the vast chamber, that she was the matriarch here - inquired rhetorically, turning her head slightly as she held her gaze towards Roen. "Though, I suppose such a view makes little sense without some... context." The elder, shifting slowly in her rags, took a few steps closer to the throne, centring herself before it, but clearly making no move to sit upon itself herself. She tilted her staff forward, directing it towards Roen as she spoke, saying, "I am a servant, as are all who should call this great Stronghold - Baradalgo - home. Our master is the Witch-King Zengi, whose return we have awaited for many years, and is now whispered among the wilds of the Fractured Continent." As she spoke, her hands were raised, and drawn in together. The great slabs of sarsen stone that served as the entrance to the hall swung inward, and so would seal shut the entrance behind Roen. Once this was done, the woman lowered her hands, letting her well worn, ragged robes settle together, while she herself seemed to ease a bit, smiling faintly as she beheld the devil with an amber gaze. "All truths told, it matters little whether or not the dark one does walk the land once more. It was enough to rally my people to seize our revenge." She told him, then turning a hand on herself to say, "I am Elisha Barcid, Herald of Zengi. And a woman who would very much like to see the empire of Odin Haze laid bare like all of the others that came before it. Eradicating its heart in a great flood, which the wind and waters of this storm shall bring, would seem a grand step in that goal, no?" Then, her hand stretched forth towards Roen. "You, I would imagine, are no friend to the 'Saint-King'. While I do not know what precisely drew you here to begin with, I would extend the offer now: Would you not wish to join us in this endeavour?" Argi had been dragged, at Shishi's insistence, up those flight of stairs that seemed to pass by both so quickly and not at all. It had been at the expense of those left behind to find the strange lady in the pretty dress; there were a number of stories among the Menjen that might much her description, though equally, none of them quite fit either. Part of him wanted to go back down, to question and to gain answer. But another part of him wondered about the fact that Jim had just left, at that same woman's invitation. Nothing about Jim had at all suggest he might in any way have business with this place, and he had seemed to perplex the woman in the dress before he was invited upward. Why? Why? Why? "...Hold." Argi stopped suddenly, and insistently, dragging his arm as best he could from Shishi so as to stop on the step, and look up towards her. So much was running through his mind now, and it was evident in the way he tried to focus on her, fighting against an ordinary urge to try and glance at every little thing. So deep into the stone walls, it was quiet, which helped. "This place..." He gestured around, though confined to the small area of the staircase, clearly meaning the whole of this airborne citadel. "Evil?" He knew the question was simple, and it clearly frustrated him to ask it in such a fashion, while his command of the language remained so poor. Still, with hands clenched at his side, he tried to communicate further, "This place, heart of storm. Heart, yes?" By which he meant, it should seem that either the fortress itself, or someone within it, should seem to be the source of the storm. Somehow. However that was possible. But why else would it seem to so deliberately avoid it? How could it be so precariously yet perfectly perched in the centre, it was merely another victim of the winds? "This storm... if pass over mountain... pass over home." His mind threw back to years ago. It was not entirely impossible that his people should heavy winds and rains. He had himself sheltered from... two that he could recall, that were really bad. Gales threatening to lift away the tents and fling some wayward part of the structure into a person's side, and the valleys were flooded weeks after. If something like this were to hit them... "Help stop?" It was sudden to ask, he was sure of it. They had simply landed here but minutes ago, crashed rather than landed. They had fallen into that hole, not chosen to step into it where they were then threatened. No doubt a desire to escape this place would see them have to fight anyway, but... He wanted to fight, now that he had thought about it, and he wanted to see if he had Shishi's support in that endeavour. Whether or not he did, they would have to continue their path, and so emerge before the doors of sarsen, as 'Jim' had before them. However, when they arrived, the doors were closed, and before them, those that had stood there with their weapons, now bore them towards the two. They might have even begun to charge, if not for instead taking a moment to burst into laughter, as Argi drew out a sword hilt with no actual sword within it. Yet all the same he held it before him as though the blade were there, and then with one great and booming voice, yelled out, "PELDUN!" An emerald light enveloped the room before the great hall and its sarsen doors, which when it cleared, revealed a giant, golem-like creation of a varied blue hue. It wielded an actual sword, and a very big one at that. It unnerved those who merely wielded blades in hand, but those with arcane instruments and heavy hammers yelled loudly in defiance, setting themselves upon the now charging automaton, leaving the remainder to try and take on the woman as well, however committed to the cause she may have been. One, whose blades was as jagged as it was curved - albeit reversed, coming down like a hook - was the first to get near to Shishi, attempting to strike swift and true...!
  16. 4 points


    Juno — a wilderness in the soul ; ► B A S I C S age: 22 race: human class: scavenger occupation: collector of arcturon birthplace: ignatz, terrenus ► L O O K S height: 5'4” weight: 108 lbs gender: female hair: black with multi-colored tints eyes: ashen coal (left eye partially blind) voice: raspy and diminutive — a thicket amidst the bones ; • • •
  17. 4 points

    The First Feast of Blades

    The Cambion was flattered to say the least. His Cheshire grin only grew at the modest display of affection Cammy imposed upon Ilyana. When she pulled away from him, Xartia made no contest of it. Cammy was clearly the better suitor, and the obvious winner by default. If he was half the man he used to be, he'd have naturally contested, only to attempt luring the both of them back into his bed. Pheromone manipulation or otherwise. Being the hybrid byproduct of an incubus/succubus and a human, he was once a slave to his primal urges; and quite the sexual predator. Even the Scarlet Queen became ensnared by his allure, though that was the product of simple charm, humility, and honesty. I've never been to a feast before! Well, uh, that's - that's not entirely true, but, um, you - you know - sometimes you have to send your enemies a message, and when some of them are vampires who've tried to feed on you - you'd - you know... Leeches. A term he'd grown away from using, though he was reminded of all the same in the glimpse of prejudice shown through Cammy. Considering the rightful Queen of his own personal Court above all others was in fact of Vampiric descent. Not to mention his prolonged acquaintance turned friendship with Him. Xartia snickered to himself as he recalled the confrontational nature he and Leinhart used to share, only to form a bond in the present comparable to brotherhood. The last conflict they held, the Ancient Vampire attempted to feast upon the Cambion; In which he failed and instead filled his gullet with the tar like ichor of the formless spawn. The thought inspired a brief giggle to himself. So, what brings you two to Predator's Keep tonight? I was out collecting information on Coconino Marsh so I could compare it with information on Ponkapoag Lake and eventually Sidereal Lake to assess the conditions of Terrenus's watersheds and the distribution of certain invasive species and certain ritual sites where people once worshiped the old gods, you know, the ones the Gaians tried to exclude from this world. “I was on my way back home to bring Isabella to come visit the Lady Glasmann eventually. Isabella decided she wanted to visit a friend to ask for help with something so I obliged and here we are. Xartia here graciously offered himself as an escort since he is well acquainted with this city...an offer I graciously accepted. I understand that Caeceila is participating in the events here so maybe we can cheer her on a bit...I am sure you can acquire some seats worthy of your status here…lord Xartia. Lead the way.” "Just Xartia is fine da'ling. Contrary to your certainty, I don't believe we've ever had the Order or Force host an event within the Keep. I'm not so sure about the seating arrangements as plotted, though if there is indeed some sort of VIP section, rest assured I will find it for us." His vacant arm was still available for Cammy if she cared to entertain the Gentleman in him. Her choice to more or less tail them was one he wasn't fond of, though if she insisted. Traversing into the crowds of the actual feast, the Cambion sought a table fitting of Ilyana's perceived interest. In this time he noticed a quite a few familiar faces, including the current whereabouts of Isabella. It seemed she had become interested in another man he deigned worthy of calling brother, Arthur. With silent alert, he tilted his head slightly in the direction of Isabella the moment he felt Ilyana's gaze upon his beautiful face. Finally, he spotted it, what seemed t be a table larger than most, with a grandiose seat at it's head. Perhaps the seat predetermined for another important guest, or perhaps the Master Knight himself should he opt to join the feast at any given time. With a tilt of his chin once more, he spoke. "There, that table seems fit for the glitterati that is us. We'll claim the table first, then we can collect our companion and grab a bite to eat. I must admit, I'm curious to inspect the pallet the Order of Force had prepared for us." @Dolor Aeternum @The Alexandrian @Pasion Pasiva
  18. 3 points
    No one knows were to find the Assassins Guild. This was a fact that Mal had learned the hard way, after weeks of combing through leads, rumors, and myths. Oh, it was possible to get in contact with them. The guild wouldn't make any money if no one could find them to purchase their services. But most of these points of contact were dead drops; someone leaves a message, the guild gets it and sends terms, and the employer leaves the payment. Following the messengers had proved fruitless. It was a massive web of proxies and cutouts that thwarted even the most dedicated attempts at surveillance. So eventually he came up with another plan. If they couldn't find the Guild before they struck, they might be able to find them afterwards. Using Aphelion's own network of proxies, the group had arranged for a hit on a prominent military official. Major General Bozidar Turkovic was the man in charge of Fort Echo, one of ninety such installations throughout the city. The Forts were going to be targeted eventually, so hiring the guild to assassinate Turkovic was killing two birds with one stone. Prior to hiring the guild, Mal and a few of his best people had infiltrated the Fort. They were all working in positions that would allow them to keep an eye on the Major. Once the assassins struck, they would be there, and they would tail them. What came after that would depend on what they found. From his position on a guard tower, Mal made sure he was alone before mentally activating his communication crystal, "Check in time people. Sound off." @Zashiii @L E V I A T H A N @Laughingmad @dvsn @Malintzin
  19. 3 points
    Six Meters is actually a good bit shorter than I was worried about, and between you and ticklefarte explaining things a bit more, my worries are assuaged. That said, I think your intentions work. You want Teshuk to stumble into the adventure later on? You're more than welcome to. No worries there. On to other matters, I will be keeping the preparation thread 'open' for another 3-5 days or so. @Zashiii @Vilhardt @Sanonymous @The Alexandrian, try to get a post up within the next little while, or at least let us know whether or not you still want to participate (Maybe you just don't feel like being a part of the prep thread, and that's fine, we can figure something else out). The preparation thread is meant to be short and straightforward, just a means of giving everybody a chance to announce their talents, and see how and what they can offer the party when the thread begins. A map is either being designed, or a reference is being found still, and will be posted when I next post in the prep thread. Thanks in advance, all.
  20. 3 points
    I spent way too long just trying to add a title:
  21. 3 points

    General chat thread

    We should just rename Valucre every time someone succeeds in world domination.
  22. 3 points

    General chat thread

    me: alright, i'm gonna set some goals and get some serious writing done also me:
  23. 3 points

    Suggested progress paths

    These are quest-based progression paths for a character who wants to fit into a certain archetype and do so in a way that is both comprehensive and backed by canon. Note that activity between these points is as welcome as doing them back to back. Also note that your character's journey doesn't need to end after these but it will establish them firmly in their field of choice. Quests: All quests are based off of the quest index. Military quests and church quests are just general quests performed on behalf of one or the other organization and with an end that benefits it in some way. Also acceptable are any Opportunities generated from previously canonized threads in any areas. Entities: General Quest Index. Military. Gaian Church. Academy. Cleric (Diocese) or Paladin (for Gaianism) 1 general quest. 1 military quest. 1 church quest. Adventurer 1 general quest. 1 academy quest. 1 artifact hunt. Mage 1 general quest. 2 academy quests. Warrior 2 general quests. 1 artifact hunt. Soldier 3 military quests.
  24. 3 points
    There was a woman enjoying her cup of tea on the bar. A lit cigar was set firmly between her lips, the lucrative smoke wafting from her exquisite mouth. Her hair was white as snow, her gentle face a stark contrast to her vice. Her appearance on this tavern was not without precedent as she had been waiting for two questionable individuals. They were supposed to meet her an hour ago and now she's wondering if she should just leave. No point in waiting for an uncertain future. She motioned to stand but then the dragon kin arrived. The woman knew that scent anywhere. She and the dragon kin had met many times before, perhaps too often for her own comfort. "Arashi," she mouthed with those full lips of hers. Before Arashi could ever leave, the woman would grab hold of the dragon kin's shoulder. "My, my, I did not think someone like you would be interested in the High Lord's blade of all things. Arashi, sweetie, it seems you've matured since I last saw you."
  25. 3 points
    L E V I A T H A N

    Genesaris Interactions

    Looking to sink my hands into these territories. I am happy to run interactions on the water with Nymerians or on land with a few different characters. If you’ve got any ideas feel free to catch me !
  26. 3 points
  27. 3 points

    Argentspire II: Escort

    II. The Window With the decision made, the group continued onwards, an unexpected addition to their numbers. The boy spoke little as he walked, his eyes unfocused. gaze drifting through the people and the scenery like they were glass. It seemed his cries had been answered- he no longer pleaded for help, but judging by the way his eyes darted from side to side, he was still looking for something. The scenery remained drab as they trudged on. No gust of wind cleared the fog away, and pine forest continued unbroken, dark against the colorless ground and equally-colorless sky. No sign of civilization greeted the group’s senses - not a footprint, nor a campfire’s ashes, nor a single breath on the wind. Apart from the mysterious boy, it seemed like they were completely, utterly, alone. After a few hours, Mara finally broke the silence. “We’re almost halfway up. We’ll find somewhere to camp soon.” A silver glow flashed from ahead, just beyond the trees. Mara stopped in her tracks. “Did you see-” Dr. Ileto’s eyes were wide. “The light!” The group quickened its steps. A window-shaped distortion hung in the air. Its frame seemed to drink in all light, carved straight from shadow. Silver light blazed from it, bathing the surrounding pines in pale illumination. Those nearest to it would feel a faint static on their skin. ”It’s a worldrift portal.” Mara said “The other group saw one of these on their trip. It showed a scene from somewhere else. These must’ve been distorted by Yh’mi’s loci - regular worldrift portals are blue, and never this still. Or window-shaped, for that matter.” Mara glanced at Dr. Kripph. ”You want a closer lo-” ”No need to ask twice-” the elderly scientist said cheerfully, rubbing his fingers together. ”Coming, Lou?” Dr. Hansson made a face. ”No thanks.” Kripph was already walking over to the portal, a pen and paper in hand. ”One of you soldiers come, please. Just in case something scary pops out.” The boy stared at the portal, eyes like saucers. ”The machine,” he whispered. He began walking towards the window, a dazed expression on his face.
  28. 3 points

    Welcome to Valucre!

    Welcome to Valucre!
  29. 3 points

    Argentspire II: Escort

    No forest Tafili had ever visited had been as silent as the one he walked through now. The quiet lent an eerie quality to the stark beauty of the tall trees that kept the hairs on the back of his head standing up. Guest growled to him just as the boy appeared out of nowhere. As the boy repeated his plea for help, the parasite continued to express its agitation toward the new arrival, but did not emerge. At Mara's suggestion Tafili frowned, "We can't just leave him here. And what about the mother? I say we send two people to scout; and I volunteer."
  30. 3 points
    Lifted from the ground toward a bright light, which engulfed all of their senses and visions. When it faded... Frederick looked around, taking stock of the situation. Another place, another realm of nightmare. Would this chain of twisted torment ever come to an end? Frederick sighed, and the Subversor captain turned to find Oswin and Bors next to him. Frederick nodded, then concentrated his thoughts, focusing his will and the Inanis to try and eradicate that turbulence that lurked at the edge of his thoughts, a carryover from the last realm. He opened his eyes, irritated because it wasn't seeming to work whatsoever. He shook his head, closing his eyes and refocusing his will. Finally, the turbulence was cleared, the waters of his mind clear and still. He stared at the Norkotians for a moment, before shaking his head slowly and gesturing for Oswin and Bors to follow. The Subversors made their way to the door on the left side, swords and shields drawn. They stood facing it, occasionally glancing behind at the advancing fractures. Frederick spoke quietly. "Perhaps the floor will collapse enough to reveal an alternative exit. We hold position here, and we only open this door if no other exit presents itself. Understood?" Oswin and Bors nodded in acknowledgement.
  31. 3 points

    Argentspire II: Escort

    Tafili had been with Khartes for less then six months when he had been ordered to accompany the expedition. Up until now he had mostly worked as an assistant to various technicians and scientists, so he was excited to go out into the field. He had been chosen both for having a bit of combat experience, and for the parasite that inhabited his body. On this trip, he was determined to prove himself an asset to Khartes. Grabbing a backpack, he followed after Mara. "My names Tafili," he chimed in, and without another word, the parasite emerged from the base of his neck, and snapped at the air, "And this is Guest."
  32. 2 points

    Insanity's Soliloquy

    She ran, as fast as she could, weaving through the trees like a guided arrow as she fled before the two beasts that chased her through the forests of the mountains of Daern'aath. Even in the failing light of sunset, the things looked like grotesque failed mutations between wolves and bears, their stringy, mange ridden fur was matted and patchy, lesions and pustules of rotted flesh oozed a clear slimey liquid that she was sure it wasn't healthy to touch, and mad beady eyes that rolled around in their heads. They were called Necro-Beasts, and many high shaman and priestess of the Drow commanded these perversions of nature, using dark magic to reanimate the corpses of dead animals and fuse them together to make near unstoppable machines of death and plague. She had been eluding this pair of Necro-Beasts for days now and they had finally caught up to her when she wasn't expecting them to find her. They had surprised her, and though one lost an eye, it tasted her blood as it had sank it's fangs into her right shoulder and attempted to rip it off. That was two days ago, and she had not been able to outrun the pair since. It was like they had a lock on her now that one had tasted her. And it wanted more. She had to find an open area, somewhere, to fight these things. In the trees, she knew they would overwhelm her. Climbing ever higher, she left the tree line, and raced up the steepening cliff until she lost all speed and was nearly diagonal to the ground, the beasts slipping and sliding back repeatedly as they lost their momentum. For a split second, before gravity took over, Serune could see nothing but sky then turned, and began her descent, running back down the cliff, straight towards the two, and gained speed, kicking up a trail of dust as she zoomed down the mountainside, and right before she reached the beasts, she threw out her left hand and grabbed the edge of her long black cloak, using it like a wing to guide her, the rush of air filling the cloth as she pulled the right side of it in close to her body, and she turned with ease, shooting off to the right and back into the forest as she continued with the momentum she'd gained from the descent. She could hear their angry roars growing ever more faint. She was toying with them, but that was only because she knew if she killed them, their masters would know where she was, so they had to continue to not die by her hand, again. It was well after dark before she finally stopped again, breathless, exhausted and feeling rather dizzy. Leaving the trees again, she found herself in a wide field, the sky overhead dark and starless, and a thick fog was rolling in. Uneasy, she pulled her hood up to conceal her long, silvery hair, and pointed ears. Some people loved elves. Some people hated them, it just depended on whether or not you were A High Elf, or the Drow. The Drow were vicious, ruthless and showed no mercy to their captives, which were usually sacrificed to their God, the spider queen, they believed to be mother to all things malicious and greedy, birther of all things that slinked and slithered, Ungoliant; a cavernous spider with thousands of eyes, fangs as long as the Ancient Elms roots, and power so dark that even the darkness was afraid of it's own mother. The High Elves, however, called 'Surface Dwellers' were quite the opposite. They were kind, and much more inclined to heal, but were not afraid to fight if that was what it took. The Fog swished around her in an odd way, drawing her attention back to reality. It moved around her, like an ethereal being in the mists, it's shape only to be seen as a slithered movement in the fog. Then it trailed on ahead of her, then circled back like it wanted her to follow it. The injury in her right shoulder began to burn horribly and she gritted her teeth. She couldn't do her magic out in the open like this. The thing traced off through the fog again, and without a second thought this time, she followed it. It wasn't long before she found herself in a town, when a building materialized right in front of her in the fog and she ran directly into it. Straining to see, even her eyes had trouble with the fog, she stepped aside to avoid a worn down old cart, being pulled by an even more worn down old horse. It creaked and clopped ever so slowly past. She'd never been here before, but it did not look like a very friendly place, as there were no chidren anywhere, most of the buildings were boarded up or piles of rubble, and the stench was horrendous. Death, disease, sewage, filth, the unholy, all mixed together. People lay or sat in the street and up against buildings, coughing, vomiting, consumption was running rampant amidst the more frail inhabitants of the town. Luckily, she didn't get sick, but still, she was getting some rather undesireable looks, and she might just have to kill someone, as she noted she was now being followed by four large men wearing face coverings. Of a sudden, it was like a geas had grabbed hold of her and she felt compelled to turn down a side street and go ever further into this cesspool she had stumbled upon, until she came to a stop next to a figure slumped on the ground, his dingy, tattered brown cloak covered in dirt, spiders, cocroaches, fleas, every undeesireable crepy crawler you could think of, even had a giant centipede attacking and eating the other insects as moths of all sizes fluttered before the old man's face. In his hands he held a scroll that she recognized the markings on, and her eyes widened "Oh no, no no no what are you doing you have to st..." But she fell silent as her eyes suddenly went blank upon hearing his incantation as he began reading from the scroll. "Shelob Ungol evisera houl. Shahasti lym'nri sauud." He repeated the phrase over and over in a rhythmic sequence, rocking back and forth as he held a satchel with Pur virgin bones in it over the black candle he had lit, the smoke climbing slowly up the bag as he moved onto the next phase of the enchantment, reaching from the scroll he had in his hand, and suddenly her cloak just evaporated, as well as the sleeves and shoulders of her shirt, letting the cloth fall away to reveal her under shirt, and her long silvery hair came loose from it's braid, only to begin floating around her like she was submerged. Symbols began to appear in a line from the back of both hands, trailing up her arms, and across her shoulders, to meet a large symbol on the back of her neck, then travel down her spine to her tailbone. They were the spell that sealed in the power the old man was tring to use. She tried to fight it, but was too weak from fleeing and fighting for days in a row. She lifted off the ground as the wind picked up, and the old man continued to chant, rocking back and forth ever faster. Cycloning around her, the wind picked her hair up and tossed it around her slender form, the silver dark against the pale near porcelain complexion of her skin. Dark blue eyes turned into glowing red embers as the symbols tattoed across her skin lit up one at a time, all turning the same bright red. It hurt so badly, it felt like her body was being ripped into with each rune that ignited across her skin. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, but she couldn't move, couldn't blink, the only thing she could do was breathe, and even that was barely. Her hands lifted with her palms to the sky, and the runes burned even more crimson as little golden lights left the bodies of those who lay or sat in the streets nearby, the life energies coming directly to her, stealing the life force of dozens to created the influx catalyst the monk needed. Moving her hands to in front of her, she aimed her palms at the ground, and released all that life energy she had just absorbed and fired it into the ground a short distance away, where thr ground would then proceed to crack open a wide maw, and produce forth in a jet of steam a relic of Lost Time, a gate made of stone. She would gasp suddenly, as it felt as though a hand had reached into her chest and began to ciphon off the Darkness contained within her. Then the gate glowed brightly and creaked open, about an inch. And then she was falling, for what felt like forever, as the light faded from the runes, and she hit the ground, drained and unconcious. The old monk cackling maniacally as he looked around at all the dead bodies. Perfect, everything was now ready.
  33. 2 points

    A Matter of Amenities

    Michael’s jaw, while set, wasn’t what one would call blocky. His nose and chin formed a perfect vertical line and a faint but deep line of scar tissue bisected his left eyebrow from forehead to cheekbone. The persona he donned on that day however, a medium cry from Daemon, wore a round chin and nose and a mess of sandy hair. He wore black boots and seafarer’s grey trousers with a white sash, a leather vest and undershirt. "...That's not a trick either of you boys know, is it?" Hela’s finger flame was not the only trick the supposed Brother Tumnus had in his artillery; in fact, just like his face the very broadsword at his hip was a trick of light. The manipulation of light and fire were Michael’s innate callings, his greatest gifts and greatest vices wrapped together. He had fostered these carefully, honed his skills so that he could project almost any image within an unobstructed mile’s radius. So it was that Brother Tumnus stood before them. Tumnus’ attire was not so telling that he would appear either a mere apprentice or a Peacekeeper in the flesh, but so that he could slide between the lines in a proverbial way; deal with Fjord from a position of leverage that he chose by emerging out of total anonymity. "Who am I going to be selling this to? You can't just drop novonium in a market square and expect it to be bought." “Good to make your acquaintance, sir.” Tumnus stepped forward, hands clasped respectfully before him. “While I don’t think of myself as a trickster,” sad the trickster, “I do think I have some lucrative connections in the construction and military industries with a lot of interest in novonium and deep pockets to boot.” Despite Tumnus never having appeared to visit the bar, a buxom waitress wearing not quite the tavern’s uniform walked by, handing him a drink to which he raised a glass in return to Fjord.
  34. 2 points

    Fracture Interactions

    the nightman cometh!
  35. 2 points


    Name: Ish’real Age: 207 years (life span is about 500 years) Birth Place: Timbrock Race: Centaur Gender: Male Height: 7’3” Weight: 335 pounds Appearance: The human forefront is chestnut and broad. His untidy hair is held in place by a silver fillet. His flank is golden and his tail is chestnut. He has scars mainly from fighting his training staff. His four legs are strong for keeping him on his hooves. He wears a bow and a quiver of arrows across his back. At his side he carries a broad sword, which the hilt of is strung Mahryn hair (Which in English means elf). Skills: Unsurpassable use of bow and arrow Personality: Ish’real is very easy going. He’s very mischievous. He takes things in life and tries to make it better in his clan. He is also a bit arrogant, for he is well trained since birth at the sword and bow. History: The Salation was a land of peace. The many clans got along well through trade and other business. Ish’real was born from the Orgma (stallion) of the clan. He was raised by the Orgma’s mate, and she was the caring mother that tried to keep Ish’real away from all the wars of the clans. But, being the Orgma’s son, soon she had to step down and allow the Orgma to start teaching their son. Ish’real was pushed into weapons training. After years of harsh bouts of practice, Ish’real gained skills to be an excellent sword master and was one of the best with his marksman skills. What is not known is that, in the near future, a single clan is going to turn on all others and Ish’real will have to wage war against those who appose Salation. Present time: lsh’real is still in schooling, learning skills in numbers and writing. He’s been training harder for his father and just wants the Orgma’s appreciation.
  36. 2 points

    The Harrowing | Kadia Event

    If ever there is a time, it’s now where Selene finds the trembling rage that had begun crescendoing the moment she heard of what befell Kadia. Rather than allowing it to engulf and take over, she steels herself. Wanting to reserve that energy in order to combat those standing between her and what is left of her home and people. Although too distant for her ears to catch, Tenkai’s words and their meaning hold truth. Despite her want to bloody everything before her she chooses to withhold and suppress it, supplanting it with faith their endeavor will prove fruitful. Knowing that unleashing it too soon could jeopardize the efforts of her compatriots. Stowing those emotions she also carefully walls off others in order to prevent they too from ruling the actions necessary to carry forward. With fire in her veins, Selene follows after James. Ready to provide rearguard until otherwise engaged in combat. Readily accepting the inevitability of coming face to face with the enemy while traipsing through the Chaos warship. Rather than unsheathing the sword at her back, she releases axe and dagger from waist and thigh, gripping their respective handles in either set of fingers. Preparing for close quarter fighting until they're in an area better suited for swordplay. Regardless, the thrill of unleashing the wrath of any blade on the evil forces awaiting them, excites the blood in her veins. Every muscle fiber anxiously anticipating the coming fight. @Fierach @Tenkai Matsumoto @Maverick @Roen
  37. 2 points
    Twistlings. The Subversor commander readied his sword and prepared for a charge, with his two subordinates following suit. But... no. Frederick shook his head for a moment, then gestured for Bors and Oswin to form up in a shield wall. They stepped forward and did so. While someone like Gormaric or Ilene's Shadow Guards would take a more offensive approach, Subversor tactics were built on taking blows with their Uru-forged armor and shields, and then dishing out damage in retaliation when, for the most part, said attacks bounced off ineffectually. Even still, Frederick wondered where the other Aligorians had gotten off to. Gormaric, Ilene and the Shadow Guards, even the war elephant Surus. Their reliable aid would have been much appreciated in this place, but he supposed he would just have to rely on the others here for the time being. This was the way.
  38. 2 points
    Alright, working on a post to move is ahead with the story.
  39. 2 points

    The Lengths We Go To

    There should be, but I'm having a spot of trouble finding it currently. I'll have to ask @Malintzinto help us find it when it comes time to write. That puts us up to 3 writers; plenty for us to begin. This water cooler will stay up until Sunday, at which point we will move quickly into the thread. Assuming that timing works for all involved.
  40. 2 points

    below and beneath [outpost grey]

    There were times when disgust had washed over her so thickly she could taste it. This moment...it holds a reality to it unlike any other. Fract knows how many showers and tubes of toothpaste she’d need to go through before feeling clean again. "Goddamned apes," spat Ravenbush, "Capria, Jack, wake up! Time to get our revenge." Relief douses some of the putrid recognition Capria holds against herself. Adjusting those narrowed catlike eyes to take a better glimpse at both Raven and Jack. At first she sighs with exasperation, but it is suddenly squelched by Jack’s question. “But there’s one thing that bothers me...” – Jack moved his artificial eye toward Capria’s eyes. – “When you were making that antidote… Was it really you back then, or…?” Capria had never found definition of self to be applicable in any situation. Very few knowing what truly exists within her. For some reason it slips out...not purposeful or expected but still very much out in the open. Once uttered it cannot be taken back or buried further inward as she would prefer it to be. “When I was young...the Witch King Zengi was busy cursing the lands. Dredging up all manner of evil spirits and monsters he could to destroy what civilization we clung to. Geography mattered little to him… Some of us were are marked by this travesty and carry burdens upon our souls that forever tie us to that past. Some were saved by death ...others like myself...were left abandoned. Permanently branded by darkness...” Capria hasn’t fallen so far back in memory for a great period of time, she’d forced it into what she believed was nonexistence, only to find it now tearing through her. Catching this moment by the throat she ends it with a clearing of the throat. Dirtied fingertips rub against cheeks and eyes alike to warm and awaken the skin beneath. “No...it wasn’t entirely me.” And that’s where she leaves it. Now she’s up on her feet, looking through the materials strewn about the counter. Each vial in the stand containing combinations of materials in different weights. Instead of analyzing the scribbles laid out on several sheets she takes to pocketing it all for evaluation at a later date. Eyes only for the powers that be. “Be wary...there may be unwanted side effects. It may not even be a stable or permanent antidote.” What little she sees and understands with those herbological and manmade components does little to soothe the ramifications of whatever they were injected with. For now those secrets rest in the inky shadows used to envelope and ‘disappear’ them. “Raven is partially correct. Not really for revenge, but we still have a mission to complete. Right yourselves and prepare to clear the area and get that damn elevator back online.” Cold and bleak is the voice emitted. Concrete evidence that she’s reverted back to a solitary and confined state. All business. @P.N.See @Zashiii
  41. 2 points

    below and beneath [outpost grey]

    The first thought that came in Jack’s mind is that he let his guard down. A nasty one for the man of his profession, yet the fact he was alive enough to process that king of thought intrigued him. He found himself lying on the floor along with his companions. He attempted to move his limbs a little. Both his hands felt a bit numb, while his left leg was reminding of itself with a nagging pain. Yet it moved freely and firmly with no restraint. Jack noticed a tight bandage around the left shin and smirked. Now he recalled something… Unlike the rest of the pack, he was conscious most of the time. He managed to lead them inside what happened to be a pharmacy lab. But before they could investigate it for any clues, Capria suddenly collapsed on the floor along with Raven in her hands. Jack rushed to help them, but he tripped and fell down himself. He felt that his left leg… No, he did not felt it at all. It was infected up to the point when Jack wasn’t in control of it anymore. But just when the mercenary was about to prepare for the worst, Capria suddenly arose and walked toward the desk, ignoring her comrades. Strangely enough, he was searching through chemicals with such determination and confidence, as if she were there before. Alas, the memories of her further doings were vague, as Jack’s mind was getting affected by the infection. The only moment he remembered clearly was her applying syringe with a muddy substance to his shin… “Alright, alright, I’m awake.” – Slightly irritated by Raven’s voice, Jack slowly stood up, trying not to put too much weight onto healed leg. Having made sure he was keeping the balance, he turned to Capria, who still suffered from the infection’s aftermath. “Well…” – he spoke softly. – “I guess we are all owe it to you.” The mercenary glanced again across the lab, then looked at the table with a bunch of vials and mixtures. Capria’s behavior, the way she manipulated the concoctions and the fact she got it right in the first try... Needless to say, the path to their salvation seemed to be way too simple… “But there’s one thing that bothers me...” – Jack moved his artificial eye toward Capria’s eyes. – “When you were making that antidote… Was it really you back then, or…?”
  42. 2 points

    General chat thread

  43. 2 points

    What are your other hobbies?

    Reading true crime, mystery or fantady types of books, the video games on the xbox 360 and switch (though mostly dragon age inquisition) Writing lore, along with my books. Making up relics and cool weapons for characters. Music helps and sleeping lol
  44. 2 points


    Okay so while I'm needing to read through to ensure I am fully caught up on the required backstory, I have some... ideas for Arkadia Prime
  45. 2 points
    Charlie braced himself for the harpy’s banshee-like scream, fully aware of what’d happened the last time he heard it. “No!” he shouted, turning to run as he covered his ears and clenched his eyes shut as tightly as he could. His efforts were in vain though. As if his ears weren’t covered at all, the harpy’s shrill, haunting, screech pierced his mind and soul with such great intensity that it felt like his muscle sinews were whipping at his bone. He screamed in agony and fell to his knees, desperately waiting for the screams to stop. It felt as if the blood coursing through his veins was being replaced with the sound of nails dragging across a chalkboard, rattling his very being. Agony became his reality, and his conscience soon followed. BANG! “AGH!” Charlie yelped, letting the the revolver he’d been holding to the side of his head fall from his grasp and clatter to the ground. He held his shaking arm where the bullet had gone through, gritting his teeth as he leaned forward. His vision was hazy and swirled about an obsidian room he had not previously been in. He tried to get to his feet, but fell back to his knees due to a sickening feeling in his gut. He had no idea what was going on now, the pain in his arm not making it any easier to figure that out. As his vision became clearer, he began to see the others in the room. He recognized most of them as being the intrepid explorers he’d ventured into Yh’Mi with. He sniffed and whipped the tears from his eyes. “Not real.” he said to himself as he attempted to get to his feet again. This time was a success, but there was another pressing matter in his mind. His eyes fell on the gun he’d dropped. He recognized it as one of the revolvers the Norkotians carried. He walked over to it and nudged it with his foot. It was real. His mouth hung open slightly as he came to the realization that he was less than half a second away from killing himself. He was certain he would have, but someone had shot him before he could. He looked to his left and saw Scoot Deckel holding a smoking revolver in his hand. The expression on his face was one of shock, like a man that’d just seen a ghost. Charlie stared at Deckel, not moving, not speaking, not even frowning. He just looked at him with a blank expression, holding his bleeding arm. Then, without a word or any sign of acknowledgment, Charlie turned away and began walking towards the double doors. He wasn't sure why. Something was drawing him towards them. It was like that feeling you might get when you're near the edge of a massive cliff. You get that urge to just step over the edge let gravity decide your fate one final time. The doors were like a hole that sloped off into a massive pit, and he a ball rolling down towards it's edge. He wanted oblivion. Annihilation. Both were things he desired for many years, but this time was different. He no longer wanted these things for the world. He wanted them for himself. He wanted a release from his life, but something was holding him back from doing it. He stopped walking and looked down, putting his hands in his pockets. He could venture no further, for he knew that if he took one more step, that would be it. He'd finish what he'd been about to do. So he started thinking about things. Anything, really. Most of his thoughts consisted of people he savagely murdered, but in between those were other memories that stood out like a sore thumb. What the woman had told him earlier were not things he could ignore, but he also couldn't ignore these other thoughts. A little girl with a crutch giving him an arts and crafts present from school. A woman taking him to see a play. An old man struggling to teach him how to play a guitar. A family thanking him for saving their lives by inviting him over for dinner. A crazy-eyed punk taking him to the hospital after beating him within an inch of his life. A crazy-eyed punk taking a point-blank shotgun blast in his stead. A crazy-eyed punk teaching him how to tie a tie. A crazy-eyed punk sharing his meal with him. A crazy-eyed punk angrily chasing him after an explosive outhouse prank. Yes...that one was funny. Charlie wiped the tears that were starting to drip down his face and looked up. "One day at a time, alright?" came the distant echo of a crazy-eyed punks voice. "Just take it one day at a time." "One day...at a time." repeated Charlie. He then took another deep breath and held a hand over his wounded arm. He could feel warmth within him again. It wasn't a lot, but it was there. It was not gone. He focused to try and heal his arm, but something strange happened. Some kind blackish good trailed up his leg and to the wound, causing him to grit his teeth in pain as it began to slowly fill the wound. He could feel it solidifying inside his arm, like a serrated rock pinching and cutting its way through the bullet hole. Then, almost as quickly as the pain came, it was gone. Now where there was once a gaping bullet hole, there was a hard, obsidian substance. Freaked out and thinking that he had just been infected by some new horror of Yh'Mi, he held his hand over the former-wound and focused as much heat into it as he could to expunge it. But this didn't happen. Instead, his body became surrounded in revolving flurry of cyan fire. But this fire was not hot, as the many onlookers would notice. The flames twirled and circled his body, becoming brighter and bigger as he focused. The flames lit up the room in a calming, blue light, moving faster and faster until finally, they exploded outward. The cyan flames collided with many of the people around him, hitting them all like a refreshing gust of wind on a hot day. The fires seeped into their wounds, sending waves of relief through their bodies as their wounds glowed a fluorescent blue and healed. Charlie stood there, blinking with a look of bewilderment on his face. He looked around him expecting to see a bunch of smoldering corpses, but everyone seemed to be fine. In fact, they looked slightly less roughed up than he remembered. Figuring that he must have just had a lapse in memory, he looked back down at his arm. "Really!?" he shouted, the obsidian substance still within his arm. He then started picking at it with his fingers, but the material wouldn't budge an inch. "What is this stuff?!" He looked around to see if anyone would answer, but averted his gaze to Soryn when he saw him opening the door to the right. Charlie expected something sharp and jagged to jut out and impale him, but Soryn was unharmed. The door opened into another room much like the one they were in, only the floor wasn't cracked and about to give way. Charlie felt a sense of great unease at the thought of traversing into this new room, but he didn't really have the option of sticking around. "Really...getting tired of this place." said the young mercenary nervously before adjusting his backpack and following Soryn.
  46. 2 points

    Argentspire Expedition Hub OOC

    Btw you guys can ask me about scenery/environment stuff, like, does the dust smell like dust (credits to Tyler), or is the dust the same dust as the en passant dust? That kind of thing, so you get a better idea of descriptions/imagery for your posts, and also scope out details that can help guide your character actions.
  47. 2 points

    A Matter of Amenities

    It felt strange. "I don't understand." Yates had been here before. He at one end of the table, not young but inexperienced, because Gaia's wisdom did not see fit to touch him until he was well along the path of a devious life, and he was so covered in sick that it almost made him immobile. Then She gave him light and breath. And though he was an oracle now he was still inexperienced, but delighted in this, prepared to be a student of Her glory for the remainder of his life. At the other end of the table sat Diocese Tarn, the priest who had interviewed Yates as an apprentice and again on his ascendancy to priesthood. Here they were again, at another revolution of the wheel. "Anchorage comes to mind." Brother Tarn said in his simple way, four words to conjure up the murder Yates and other priests uncovered by chance, the subterranean society with which they established friendly contact while preventing a diplomatic incident from ever coming to full bloom. "But I am still on Her path to redemption brother. I am still yet blind and groping." Which, he realized even as he said it, was not a particularly reassuring thing to hear said by a minted oracle. "As we all are. The blind yet manage." "But so delicate a charge! So many people's lives, and I a factor? Surely another must be better suited, surer of foot, clearer of mind and heart. Brother Tymbal, or better yet Sister Kynd! With them at hand I don't understand wh –" Tarn raised a finger and Yates trailed off into silence. Tarn rose and Yates rose. Tarn walked out of the little room attached to the Abbey's side and down the hill to the fruit garden. Yates followed. When he reached Tarn's side again after a little while, Yates let his gaze flow from Tarn's smile to the still pointing finger and down to a row of ants. Yates nodded. Tarn then raised his finger and pointed up at the sky. At clouds perhaps, at the blue beyond the clouds perhaps, at the stars beyond the blue perhaps, at the void above, between, and around the stars perhaps. And then back to the ants. Frowning, but replete with understanding, Yates nodded. "Glory be." # # # In the Terran Embassy. Down the hall to the right, up to the second floor. A door with a stuck-on placard which read: O.S.A.F.D.O.O.T. He knocked three times to announce himself, waited three seconds for those on the other side to compose themselves, and then stepped inside. Yates was not old, just older. He had a round face and the kind of disposition you'd expect from a priest with a round face. Underneath his mildly kempt beard and robes and the fluff of his uncertain demeanor were bricks of honed muscle. The faithful of Gaia were not only Her surgeons, they were Her warriors, and the enemies of Gaia were too often fiercely inhuman to allow for soft bodies and overly genteel temperaments. "Hello . . . I'm brother Yates. I've been told to be of assistance to a Ms. Hela? . . . . I know the land quite well, and since the . . . . ehm, incident with Biazo City, there are more unnatural infesting the island than ever . . ."
  48. 2 points
    Don't have the bandwidth/free thread slots for this atm, but you should totally get an announcement for this rp here!
  49. 2 points
  50. 2 points
    Dauner Light

    Golden Reaper [CLOSED]

    The fight was quite entertaining for Dauner. It wasn't often he could fight with enemies for hours non-stop. The skeletons made this possible with their numbers. With each slash tearing bone like it were paper, Dauner kept cutting down the creatures. He amassed a great deal of bones around him in a way that the ground he was fighting on now was entirely made of bones. The skeletons seemed to not learn their lesson despite seeing their brethren falling in masses. This was just what made them fun to kill. Dauner was caught by surprise by the loud screech that echoed through the place. He covered his ears with his hands turning to see where the sound was coming from. It was the mage. Dauner had not yet signed anyone present as friend or foe apart from Gozen and the man from earlier but he wasn't going to go trying to fight Arthur now. Soon enough, his fight continued still going on as a one sided massacre. The mage and the werewolf girl, seemed to have a little conversation during which the mage took out the content of the case and threw the case into the cave. The skeletons began to run after it including the ones Dauner was fighting. Dauner stopped for a moment and yelled. "Get back here. I'm not done with you". He began to chase the skeletons into the cave. Just then, a hand apparently made entirely of flames passed above the group that was standing and grabbed Dauner pulling him away from the cave. Dauner turned towards the person who sent the hand and exclaimed "Gozen! What are you doing? Let go" "Pipe down. You'll go get yourself killed or you'll just get lost in there" "Hmph" Dauner sighed turning his head away from Gozen. "What about the man?" "I left him with a kind person from town. He said he'd take him to the closest health center" "That's good to hear" he said. "Now put me down". Gozen put Dauner down before the hand of fire completely disappeared. Dauner then turned back facing the cave and said "What were those things?"
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