Jump to content


Popular Content

Showing content with the highest reputation on 06/19/2019 in all areas

  1. 4 points

    Le roi est mort, vive la reine

    Lenore thought for a moment, keeping the audio block intact around them. You could send them after the Dead? I wouldn't mind having a personal arsenal provider. Lenore sent back the mental equivalent of a glare. He could hear his brother laughing silently. "In all honesty," he told Thurgood, "I don't know what my mother has planned after the assembly in Ursa Madeum. I know she intends on continuing to strengthen Veluriyam, and that she'll be returning to Taen, but aside from that I can't say for certain." There were gaps in their mother's mind. Where once he and Pallas had been free to access the vast trove of her memories, sharing information lightning-fast, she was beginning to shutter certain areas. "I can say that she's adverse to armed conflict. I'd advise against doing anything that puts us at odds with other nations." We have to admit, a navy would be useful. Didn't Titus have plans to conquer that- -sunken city? We know Mom works differently from him. Lenore waved over a server to refill his cup, catching sight of the Hildebrands. He turned back to Thurgood. "You are more than welcome to remain in the Mil Dot Lunaris for the time being," he said. "At the rate Lunaris is expanding, any assistance you can give in terms of construction would be greatly appreciated. There's a military outpost being constructed up west to help keep the creatures from the dark mountain contained. I've no doubt they'd find firearms useful."
  2. 4 points

    Another Raid In The Night

    The approaching hijacked wagons had not been hidden; in fact they begged for investigation. The two centaurs nearest the old farmhouse held back from doing so, aware of the automated defences that had been set up around the farmstead. They did not know how the defences worked, nor did they fully trust the set up, but they had been instructed to stay out of the way of the mines, so as not to impede their function. The missile from the mine struck one of the wagons and brought it down in a loud crash and a rain of wood splinters. Shouts came from the farmhand quarters, and someone came out to see see what was happening. The man came face to face with Geladore, whose equinine body was tense in anticipation. “Get back in there,” the centaur commanded. “Everything is under control.” Each one of the farmhands was a resource, and them running around and panicking would be detrimental to their defence. The farmhand retreated back into the house, fear and uncertainty in his eyes. One of the centaurs let loose several arrows at the next wagon unmolested by the mine, not aiming at its load but at its wheels in order to impede its movement as it made its turn north. The damaged wheels would not take too much effort to disable completely, and whether the wagon was driven or controlled remotely, it would not be travelling anywhere without functional wheels. Geladore called for his warriors to position themselves, two centaurs to each standing building, one at the front and one at the back. At the sound of the mine’s blast, the dozen patrollers around the area would be making their way towards the farmstead from all directions surrounding it from about a mile and a half away, while looking out for intruders in the open.
  3. 4 points
    For the briefest of moment, the silence that fell beyond his speech felt like an eternity. His facial expression and body language remained unchanged, though on the inside he could feel just how far he'd pushed the proverbial blade. Even if she didn't accept his forgiveness, and even if she wished to continue blaming him for his misfortunes, it was no longer her problem unless she chose to make it so. For even if he was as guilty in her faux death as she implied against his perception of things, she still ultimately did it to herself. Twice. As for his presence and the threat it brought, if she was concerned about how just looking at him made others feel, imagine how much more concerned she'd be if he did repeat the atrocities he committed on his wedding day. "You have said your piece. You may take your leave." "As you wish." He stated plainly before turning his back to her and receding back into the comfort of his entourage. As he by passed them, he was certain they'd recoil, reforming their formation as they participated in leaving the Daiyokai's estate. As the crowds parted awkwardly, giving them a clear birth out of the estate, Koji's closed Draconic fist pumped into the air, his final address being more audible to the general public. "Long live the Yokai Queen!" He shouted as he continued to walk, his hand falling naturally to his side once more. When Akako's barrier fell, Xartia initally felt a mild sense of panic. Though the revelation of each of theirs energy signatures unperturbed by the barrier allowed him the relief he was beginning to desperately seek. Though she mentally patronized the Cambion for his reactions to Koji, or lack there of, it seemed she now held a similar stance judging by her words of parting with him. His all too easy compliance revealed itself when he mocked the Yokai Queen, causing his fists to close tightly at his sides as he quite literally bit his tongue. Over and over he reminded himself that there was a time and place, neither of which was now. Stepping closer to Akako once more, his right hand sought the small of her back, in which he remained facing the exiting party, his eyes watching them as he whispered to her. "I'm going to monitor them until I'm certain they've left the city. I'll find you once they have." Considering their means of arrival, Xartia was all too weary of the groups decision to walk out of the estate and into the city, in a region where they were most unwanted. On the anniversary of his distasteful deed, in the expanse Carmine region where an investigation took place of Koji's involvement. The proof was in the pudding, and while nothing had been done about it, Xartia found himself both mortified and relieved. His wished no death upon one of his children, though the one had killed the many. No Xartia wouldn't kill him, though his ultimate motives against Koji could prove much more severe than a mere death. Would prove much more given the chance. Blending into the crowds, the Cambion remained vigilant of the unwanted visitors, praying that they'd leave as soon as possible, and hoping that if they did stick around for a while that it might be on the best of terms possible. A blessing and a curse considering the recent, official proclamation of the the New Union Frontier. @Akako Akari @dvsn @Aleksei @Etched In Stone @Dreamer @danzilla3 @Chappu
  4. 3 points

    Le roi est mort, vive la reine

    "Whelp, once the navy's been built, I really think it needs a force of marines," Thurgood says, "I know the Empire already has an army, and I know it's effective, but I see a smaller marine corps filling a different role: amphibious operations, surgical strikes, and the dirty work that while necessary, is dishonerable, but yeah, I felt like I was rubbing Ursa Madeum the wrong way. Not that I cared but... ...can you tell us where we're being reassigned?" "Would they need any glassblowers there?" Nadia asks through the RF converter. @Csl
  5. 3 points

    Hanami - Flower Festival [OPEN]

    The sun was beginning to set, and as it did—more eyes were drawn to her—and for good reason. She used to think of it as a strange affliction. Yet, as time went on, she learned to ignore it and accept it for what it was. She gave off a light—pale and silvery by design; an ethereal moonlit glow that kissed her skin in the early evening and would brighten into the night. There were stories of the ghost of Predator’s Keep, in the living forest where all manner of wild creatures lived. It amused her to this day, how it was nothing more than a restless woman taking a late-night stroll. She regarded the play and in doing so had become still—still as stone. She sat on a lawn, the great dire wolf curled around her like a great white cushion. Frost adorned the blades of grass, yet she felt no discomfort. She was enthralled by the story, resonating with her in a way she did not realize. She didn’t know for how long she remained motionless. Poised and unmoving, the moment seemed so very small to her. The gentle prickling of a poke and the throaty growl of her guardian sent the small youkai squealing with laughter. Raveena blinked and sat up—stretching leisurely. Jesta’ was draped around her neck, a spot of warmth and comfort—ears flickering to show she was very much alert despite appearance. “Suppose he never wakes up.” Raveena wondered aloud—feeling a touch of ice in her heart as she dwelled on the idea. “Have I condemned him—and our child? Are we like those characters?” The splintering of ice—foreign and magical to hear. The prickling of winter at the nape of her neck. Her companion spoke his piece—and she came to understand it in a way. No one escapes the consequences of their actions, Sunseeker. “Some do,” She insisted bitterly yet hardheartedly so, “There are far too many--.” She stopped herself from saying evils. What was evil? It, like so many things in life were in the eye of the beholder. Akako was dead, her nephew to blame—and it was Raveena herself who discovered this. Surely, he was evil. Akako also drove her children to the brink of insanity—and for what? Because they wanted choices? Surely, she was evil. People selflessly gave their lives for Raveena, and she let them. Was she evil? The Unseelie and their reputation proceeded them. Were they evil, as well? Raveena could recall how harsh Rowan was to her—how he demanded she stop acting like a woman and stop acting like a Queen. Noble had become Princess, Princess had become Queen, and Queen had risen as Empress. Rowan had a vision—an idea, something he believed in and protected with all that he could. Somewhere in Genesaris there was a way to reverse his condition. She had given up her humanity to protect her family and her people. There was no escaping the consequences of that, either. “You’re right,” She concede quietly, and gave more of her attention to the festivities of the coming evening.
  6. 2 points

    Soon you'll see

    Teach me the magnification trick you did at Misral. You have to mimic the way the lens bends light. Pallas and Lenore paced opposite ends of the balcony, keeping a silent commentary on the events as they watched the nobles arrive. Aveline, with her questionable stack of paper. Next was Varda, polite in speech and conduct, as always. Two of her siblings joining the twins on the balcony. Lenore eyed Jasper Hildebrand. Pallas frowned as he caught the plan weaving together in his brother’s mind. Do you think Mom will let- -me stay? Neither offered an answer. Both continued their quiet observation of the arrivals. Abigail Karradeen, weapons at the ready. Godric Uldwar, somehow old and withered, his gentle words a contrast from the strife that seemed to hound his house. His oldness: that’s new. Rumors, rumors. What do the people whisper? Hasn’t he married a Dali? Ilyana joined them at the balcony. Where’s Mia, I wonder? Hiding away, guilty? Milorian Mythal and the Grand Kommandant, the latter accompanied by a guard. A pity about the hair. Sight too? And his wife’s family. Whatever guilt they’d felt at Misral had been cast aside as easily as an old toy, for the here and the now was the assembly, far more interesting. Not our concern anymore. Milorian pulled Godric’s seat aside. Lenore’s finger’s twitched. A figure woven from light and idea materialized below, bowed at the two nobles, and took the seat, silently and swiftly carrying it outside the room. Several Dalis joined the spectators. No Halisera. Disappointment and relief mixed with curiosity. The twins eyed Ampelos. Isn’t that the museum man? The only headless house here, aren’t they? Grant Knight. That look. Something’s afoot with them and Hildebrand; but then again, it’s them. Alexandros and Andross Kholin. Keep to themselves. Tankred did too, after a while. Oathsworn. Two more spectators trailed in, both familiar to the brothers. We never were able to have a chat with Sunscar, weren’t we? Visit Crowley? See if Guzon gets along with it or Marrow. Out loud, below a whisper: “Guzon, do you want a friend?” It won’t be necessary, Master Pallas, replied the sword. Ah. The twins turned their attention to Tynes. Man’s in the oil business now, isn’t he? A ripple of mutual disappointment crossed their minds. It’ll be quite the lightshow if they toe the loci’s limits. Pallas returned to his pacing, discreetly watching as Tynes entered a conversation with Renovatio’s Grand Kommandant. Lenore stood quietly for a moment, then walked towards the Hildebrands. Lenore. Not now. Pallas’ thoughts were edged with irritation. Lenore greeted the siblings with a short bow. “Lord and Lady Hildebrand. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance” He beamed a brief smile towards Merel before turning to Jasper. Pleasantries first, or should I get to the point? The soft music from below stopped. Brother. She’s starting. Lenore ignored Pallas. “I have something of a business proposal for your house I’d like to discuss with you, if you’re available.” @vielle
  7. 2 points

    Church On The Hill

    What was left of Vena Zvenda did not understand Mythandriel’s questions. There was nothing she could say to the teardrops welling in her daughter’s grey eyes. She was no longer her mother—-only a remnant of that woman kept in quarantine and called forth to serve a singular purpose. She was an afterimage burned into the wind. Her willowy form flickered before it was transmitted to Mythandriel’s side. The circle, the sigil. She pressed these together and then held her palms apart, each movement slow and scrupulous. One finger traced the circle upon her palm, then pointed to the ground. The sigil, the circle. Vena was dressed as Mythandriel would have remembered, her clothing practical and unadorned, spare for the plain silver rings stacked upon her fingers and the curved dagger at her slender waist. She used to say that it had been crafted from a fallen star. When she was alive, an unearthly glow emitted from the blade when it was immersed in pure darkness. In her death, it gleamed with a hazy glow despite the afternoon sunlight. Her hand with the sigil fell upon the hilt, and she waited. @Witches Brew Ioreth thanked him with a wordless dip of her head for the cloak and wrapped herself in his cloak, grateful for the barrier between herself and the elements that her clothing did not quite provide in its current state. The pelt was suffused with warmth from hanging in the sunlight. With half-drowsy eyes, she took note of how Viscerex stood when he inquired about the horse, that dash of earnestness that crept out from his habitual stoicism. “The horse is under Dale Thimmick’s care at his stables, which...” She bit her bottom lip and sighed at the prospect of talking with Dale after today’s tangle of events. “His home is where you, ah, hit Constans.” Perhaps it was the gentle lull of the river’s murmuring or the songbirds in the trees, but the concerns she had over the inevitable tension between Dale and Viscerex and of Constans’s current state settled to a quiet worry that she could push aside for a later time. Mythandriel, no doubt fretting over being left alone with unfamiliar faces, the orc that fell into her hands...they, too, were matters to be dealt with when she walked back to Coth. Ioreth nestled deeper into Viscerex’s cloak. “Your horse needs a name. Dale only refers to him as ‘that devil.’ He is rather wild, but he should become acclimated to you with time. Viscerex, without you, Mythandriel would have been killed. Arranging to find a horse for you is nothing in comparison.” She let her words drop away. She sensed he would have known the depths that swirled behind their meanings, that he could see the weight she carried with her daily, that to have lost Mythandriel after her unexpected return would have crippled something already fractured. The truth was often too large to fit into any structure of spoken language. It could be read in her carefully neutral face, in her hands that gripped cloak too tight, in the quick smile she offered to serve as a distraction. “Do you live out here? I often wondered where it was in Coth that you stayed.” @Vansin
  8. 2 points

    Le roi est mort, vive la reine

    Kessler’s invitation elicited a smile from Rozharon. “I’ll visit when the opportunity presents itself.” she said. Norkotia continues to strengthen their presence on Ursa Madeum. The Empress’ attention flickered to Koji - to whom she directed a nod of acknowledgement - then to Raveena, still conversing with her son. He’s not the only one finding a foothold in the islands. She returned her gaze to Tynes. Greetings and pleasantries exchanged, the Norkotians were quick to move the conversation to more practical matters. Efficient. To say she appreciated this wasn’t accurate, but Rozharon did hold something of a preference towards efficiency. The minister was more than willing to share the information on the attack. Rozharon listened, quietly filing away every detail for future reference. Beside her, Pallas drank in every word, eyes gleaming. For the first time, he spoke. “The Dead,” he said thoughtfully. He tilted his head. “That they were capable of destroying Tia suggests the group sent after you wasn’t anywhere close to their full strength. It’s not unlikely those were… errand boys, perhaps? Sent with the goal to frighten, to maim and not kill.” His brow furrowed. Rozharon could see his mind racing, feel him rifling through the information she’d gleaned from the event. Pallas glanced at his mother. She gave the briefest of nods. He smiled, the expression eerily similar to the one his mother had worn moments before. His amber gaze returned to the Norkotians “This is valuable information. Thank you, Prime Minister. Grand Executor.” Rozharon nodded. “Indeed. I’ll bring up this concern when the Alliance convenes next.” She glanced behind her. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I need to speak to Emperor Koji.” Another smile, a brief bow, and she made her exit. “Emperor Koji.” She greeted him with a touch more familiarity. “It’s good to see you here.” @Tyler @Twitterpated Pallas watched his mother leave. He folded his arms, considering the three foreigners for a long moment. Diplomacy was more of his brother’s forte, but he could manage well enough. He sighed, glancing away. “It’s true, what you said. Terrenus is getting increasingly unstable. Taen’s receiving a heavier influx of refugees as of late, though it’s unique nature keeps it relatively protected from whatever chaos plagues the mainland. Ursa Madeum suffers mostly from... internal strife." His gaze drifted from Kessler, to Redbridge, to Tynes. "You're at the mainland, though. How's Norkotia doing? I hear there’s a new sect of Gaianism gaining popularity up north, but they’re supposedly peaceful." "I just at least wanted him to live long enough to see the navy we'll build the Empire, a proper blue water navy that would have allowed him to reach out and touch any point on Valucre's oceans. At least you, Pallas, and you mom will..." “Mm. It’s all good. Ursa Madeum wouldn’t have been the best location for your level of technology anyway.” Lenore sipped his coffee, produced a handkerchief, then wiped the froth off his lip. “There’s a team of researchers who’re still studying the nature of Taen’s genius loci - I don’t know if Mom’s told you, but that’s the ‘spirit’ of the location that tends to determine the laws of reality to some extent. Without going into technical terms, Taen’s ‘adopted’ Ursa Madeum, and its protecting the nature of the Ursa Madeum loci-” he winced, “-which is… not very conducive to modern technology.” He looked down as the two radar foxes arrived. “Hello Vivian, Nadia.” “But yes, like my brother’s told you,” Lenore continued, sighing, “There are better places for you two to be than Ursa Madeum.” He paused, then projected an audio illusion around them that rendered their next words inaudible to eavesdroppers. "The way things are going in Terrenus, there's a need to strengthen the empire's military. We'd appreciate your help for that." @notmuch_23
  9. 2 points

    Malus Galfaux

    Basic Information Name: Malus Galfaux Nicknames/pseudonyms: None Title(s): Knight Errant, Last member of the Brotherhood of Charity Age: Unknown Apparent Age: Looks to be about his mid 40s. Race: Human Gender: Male Sexuality: Celibate Marital Status: Celibate Birthplace: “Born in Tusknoir, small village West of Coconino Marsh. Probably naught but dust by now.” Alignment: True Neutral History A century ago a band of warriors and scholars known as the Brotherhood of Charity wandered into the maddening wastes of Yh’mi in pursuit of its secrets, now the last of them has returned to find the walls of Inns’th manned by a new order of Paladins, the Order of the White Hand. Who he was before he ventured within this vile land is of little import now, as the world beyond Yh’mi no longer has a place for him. Bound by his oaths to his fallen brethren, Malus remains within Yh’mi to unravel its many mysteries and strike at the veil of shadow surrounding it, or perhaps die upon the accursed wastes as his brothers before. Physical and Appearance Psychological Information Equipment Skillset
  10. 2 points
    Idk Wana end with a bang? *holds a big bomb*
  11. 2 points

    NARCollections OOC

    You can post ive been dealing with unexpected problems lately
  12. 2 points

    General chat thread

    In other news, since I don't have an art thread (but should probably get one) the results of my latest commission is in. Behold, tis shiny.
  13. 2 points

    [Alt] Agent Amy Harrison

    [BASICS] Name: Amy Harrison Ethnicity: Caucasian Marital Status: Single Orientation: Homosexual Gender: Female Age: 27 Callsign: Jackdaw Occupation: Unknown main occupation Animal hunter Affiliation: SHD Role: Sniper [PHYSICAL PROFILE] Voice: Female, slight European accent Eyes: Blue Complexion: Fair Height: 5'9 Weight: 131 lbs Build: Athletic, slightly muscled Hair: Blonde, long hair, straight Tattoos: A jackdaw on right shoulder [PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE] Born in the UK, moved to the US at age 10. Highschool achievements: Fastest time on track, never allowed opposing soccer teams to score, A's in every class with the exception of math which averages to a C+, passed two years of foreign language: Spanish. Joined local hunters after high school as a side job. Fully experienced in using sniper rifles and to a lesser extent shotguns. Kind and usually calm until her birthplace is mentioned then gets agressive. Prefers to work alone as "people get in her way" but is capable of working with a small group of people to some extent.
  14. 1 point
    Witches Brew

    Stealth and Strength

    Myth protested as Zan tore his shirt, saying she was fine over and over again, but he would not listen. He tore his shirt right in half, like it was nothing, and wrapped it around her torn torso, and shoulder. He was right, adrenaline was keeping her pain away at the moment, and she would be in some amount of pain later. However, she was putting on a brave face now. Zanzarog carefully placed her on his shoulder, while grabbing the buck she had killed earlier with his free hand. She didn't protest now, she was getting tired, and her blood was soaking his shirt. Her mind raced as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Why was the bear there? What had happened? She didn't think it was rabid, did the bear have cubs near by? These thoughts raced around as she bounced lightly with each step her took. As they walked, Dorian could be heard bleeting loudly, her head raised towards the sky. She knew her mother was injured, she knew it. She didn't have to see, it was just something she felt deep within her being. The elk looked at the tree line desperately, wanting to see the figures emerge from the darkness, back into town. When they finally did emerge, Myth was whimpering in pain, clinging to Zan tightly. Dorian rushed to the two of them, huffing and shaking her head. She immediately wanted to sniff at Mythandriel, try to get an sense of her injuries, but Zan had her so high up, she settled with licking her mother's foot. Despite the pain she felt, Myth smiled upon feeling Dorian's touch.
  15. 1 point
    Her Aunt stood, and Haruhi couldn't believe the air around this woman. She was so elegant, nothing seemed to phase her. Even her hair and her clothing seemed to stay in it's proper place, she was the picture of aging elegance. She was someone Haruhi aspired to be, now and as she grew. Haruhi stood, not with the exact grace her Aunt has, but just close enough. She clasped her hands in front of her, one hand overlapping the other. "Thank you, Asora-sama, I promise I will not disappoint you." Her aunt departed, leaving her all alone again in her room. Her mind raced, and yet she herself stood still. She stared straight ahead, unsure of how she was going to pull this off. Sure she's flirted before, sending glances, small smiles, but she's never seduced anyone. All those samurai in training, all those serving boys, they were just games she was playing, she'd never bedded any of them. As nighttime approached, she sat on the thin futon on her floor, now clothed in a thin white robe. Her gut was churning. She wouldn't lie if anyone asked if she was nervous, of course she was. She was expected to perform from one of the members of the main family, and if she failed... she had no idea what they would do. She lifted up the quilt on her bed, and slid under it, laying comfortably under it. She could do this, she had to do this, for the betterment of her family. ----------------------------------------- The next day, her Aunt arrived to pick her up. Just yesterday she had mentioned a seamstress. There was one seamstress that came to Haruhi's mind, and she was quite talented. She climbed into the rickshaw, pulled by one of the many servants the Yanihara employed. This would take the two highborn ladies to the other side of the rather large estate. The ride to the Shirokawa household was silent, not a word shared between the two ladies. Upon their arrival, she followed Asora closely, smiling softly as the servants bowed low as they approached. She stood tall, silent as her aunt called for the Lady Tsuyu, the seamstress she had suspected her Aunt would've picked. She's heard that her work is amazing, just wonderful.
  16. 1 point

    I Don't Know...

    It was well known amongst the people of Coth to never stray too far into the woods. Certain swaths of wilderness were set aside for the hunters, but even they did not stalk their prey beyond the known barriers out of fear for what lurked beyond the pines. It was a well founded fear, for those that wandered out unprepared rarely returned without injuries, if they managed to return at all. As idyllic as the glade appeared for a campsite, it contained a hidden secret. Networks of tunnels bored through the earth beneath the women’s feet. Vibrations from the horse’s hooves rattled their soil ceilings and sent shockwaves down their walls, waking them from their slumber. Known in local folklore as the trasgu, these territorial creatures were single minded with their rage when they felt that they had been provoked, a trait made more concerning when one is aware that the trasgu consider something as innocuous as a few microseconds of quick eye contact as an unforgivable slight. They gnashed their wickedly sharp teeth in the darkness of their caverns and scrambled to pour out of one of their concealed doorways that overlooked the women’s quiet spot along the creek. Yet it was not the battle call of the trasgu that attracted Ioreth’s initial attention. While Scrapper went for her knife, it felt as though someone dragged their own blade along the base of the elf’s spine. Her shadow shuddered on its own accord and bells began to ring in her ears, high pitched and keening. “A wraith!” Ioreth exclaimed before a shape emerged from her own shadow. It was cloaked in rags and crowned in thorns. Where a face should have been grinned a shapeless darkness, a ravenous black hole that threatened to ‘devour whatever its gnarled talons could reach. By evading one blow, Ioreth left herself exposed to the swiping claws of the wraith on her other side. It tore pathways down the right side of her face, stopping at her neck only when she struck at its arm with her staff. The wraith let out a cold laugh and disappeared, granting Ioreth a moment to look over at the creatures that rushed towards Scrapper. There were four in total, all no taller than the height of Scrapper’s waist. To call them humanoid would have been an insult against the human race, though they did stand upon two legs. Piggish crimson eyes glared out of their oversized skulls. Their hands and feet were built for digging and tipped with large claws, and their skin was a thick hide of mottled grays and green. Ioreth had little time to assist Scrapper with the fight against the trasgu, for the wraith soon revealed itself once more. They were knocked backwards with a quick barrier before another blow from the wraith was deflected by her staff. “They can barely see,” she growled, her purring voice constricted to a snarl as she dodged the wraith’s outstretched hand. “Use that to your advantage.”
  17. 1 point


    The guide follows without comment. He's careful, of course, to step carefully around the bones. They all are, in one way or another. The door opens easily, but not quietly, though it doesn't matter much. The party steps into the hall beyond. There's a few, tense moments as they pass through the halls to their destination, where there is tangible breathing heard from the room they just exited. However, they're too far away to hear the colossal bones shifting in the sand when the undead beast awakes briefly. The next door is stuck. Big surprise. This time, the guide gives it a shove, then a kick before it flies open, slamming against the wall adjacent to the doorway. The clattering fills the room before them, and in no time at all, the party has a response. With a terrifying shriek, a massive winged corpse hurls itself down from the ceiling towards the door they entered through. The guide ducks in time to avoid being splattered as a wyvern strikes the wall behind them. It collapses in a sickly mass of fetid flesh and broken bones. Yet, with an eerie series of disjointed movements, it quickly perks its head back up, and turns towards the party, before shrieking in fury at them again. Its shrieking is joined by several others, deeper in the room, and one can only guess it'll be a matter of moments before they arrive! The guide grips the door again, and with all his might slams it backwards into the wyvern repeatedly. The massive wyrm's legs are caught behind it, and he wastes no time in striking them repeatedly with the heavy door, trying to cripple the thing before it can act again. The wyvern, fully grown, with a wingspan of 20 feet, is a terrifying creature. To have not just one, but possibly more trapped in such a tight space, is a horrible prospect. The melting flesh and rotting scales on the creature speak to their long, tortured lives as undead as well. Even with its limbs battered and crushed, it still begins dragging itself along on its tattered wings, eager for a fight.
  18. 1 point
    Spooky Mittens

    Black Phillip.

    Zan crested the hill and observed the springjack's destruction. The creature observed Zan now as well, from the confines of the trees and the underbrush. A strong man, tusks in his lips, riding atop a horse beast. Black Philip knew these well, and he didn't mich care for them. He especially didn't like it when they had riders. He wasn't like other creatures, Black Philip. He had existed since a time when men and beasts were not so far apart, when these monkies hadn't yet dreamed of taming nature to their whims. Perhaps the black springjack would show Zan and this horse what it meant to be truly a beast of the wilds? With a powerful leap, and the sound of earth hollowing and upturning, Black Philip burst through the treeline, clear over the branches, like a streak of dark night careening towards Zan and his horse. He landed with a thump, and yet this did nothing to slow him down, his claws drigging deep into the earth of the hill and carving huge gouges into it's greenery. He peered with beady red eyes up the slope at Zan's horse, his horns leveled low with sinister intent. He was gonna break that horse's neck if he was given half a chance. @Better Than Gore
  19. 1 point

    The Brittle King's Tragedy OOC

    The reavers are not looking up in the party's direction, but they are facing the door beneath them, for now. This varies from reaver to reaver. Some are simply standing about. Others are climbing the walls towards some of the other seats. A few are even simply sitting down, in various stages of boredom. Looking over the railing, there's not much to see at first, just more reavers walking into the cathedral. Taking a quick count, there appears to be nearly fifty or so of the things in the room so far, and more entering as time passes. They fan out, and find places to sit, or stand, or whatever it is they do. Anatase can watch a bit longer if he likes, until the masses stop and stare towards the doorway, waiting. Not long after, a small gaggle of reavers enter. These beings wear beautiful armor, made of glass and precious metals that glint in the dim lighting. The majority of it is in various states of disrepair, yet their craftsmanship is still evident. Taking up the rear of this gaggle stands another. This one is dressed in dark armor. At first, this last figure appears to be wearing armor made entirely out of those insects from prior. However, as he walks into the room, the glint of dull silver and aged glass peers through. The armor itself is very likely darker than the rest of their attire, but it is coated in the raveous insects, though why they'd do that appears to be a mystery. The figure is quite tall, even compared to the tall reavers standing upright, and carries a long ceremonial staff. The end, instead of a crest or totem, boasts a blackened metal speartip. In retrospect, you might even say he's wielding a spear instead of a staff, but the way he carries it says 'staff', and so a staff it is. The gaggle parts ways as he makes his way forward, and by the time he reaches the front of the room, closest to the vault, he stands alone. He turns to the congregation, and there's a moment of hush. Who is this guy, anyway?
  20. 1 point

    Vigilant Roads: A New Path

    "Not at all." Delphine fears humans, that is simple and fair to say. She also fears the abuse of power and heights if you get her far enough in the sky, and she must face these fears with all the courage she can muster. Being the Lord Seeker of Ylia means she will have to guide the Seekers down the appropriate path, and that meant no discrimination against anyone and anything. She can't allow her feelings to blindly tell her how to apply the law. "Everyone will be treated fairly. It will be my job as Lord Seeker to ensure that the people of Ylia will be treated appropriately, and I will not take that responsibility lightly." On the other side of the same coin, the humans will be wary of her as well. The Tyrant King ensured that the relationship between humans and non-humans will always and forever be strained, forcing them into a very uncomfortable relationship that may never be fully rectified. Delphine can be grateful for her contingent of Seekers occupying Ylia, for it is a mix of various races and genders, forcing her to become comfortable around individuals outside her own race. It shouldn't have to be that way, and it's strange and sad that it is. If she could turn back and do things differently, she would in a heartbeat; especially if there is the promise that she would be fearless instead of fearful. Setting aside the map of the city, she shows Grant the explanation of the roads. Milorian and Ronan worked with Renovatio to come up with materials that would last and accommodate those who will be using the roads. For a few moments, the two siblings had actually agreed to work together and acted like adults the entire time they put the Vigilant Roads down on paper. "The roads will be near indestructible and will change depending on the season - if we ever get seasons back. They will be warm when it's cold, cool when it's hot. All along them will be stops for merchants and travelers to rest, and along these roads, we hope to establish villages."
  21. 1 point
    Oh, and anyone can join the Assassins' Guild. They don't have to be from Kinumo, or even Seinaru Forven. They travel all over Valucre, and even beyond.
  22. 1 point
    She was grateful he allowed her to walk all on her own, and while he was her tormentor - it was usually followed by some act of kindness. "You really believe yourself don't you? You believe that you truly love him." He was mocking her, getting one last poke in at her. "I do love him. Very, very much. That won't ever change." She said with conviction. She had to bite down on the sarcastic remark that she wanted to fire back at him. No use baiting the Vamp now, not when he let her walk all on her own and she was a gonner anyways. His last comment made her take a deep, deep breath. One that pained her and made her cough a little, she got it under control before it became obvious. She knew that he was right, she knew that Ira did not love her back in the same way she loved him. That still wouldn't change how she felt about him. A small soft smile played on her lips for a moment as she thought about it. She paused before fully entering into the dungeon. "I know he doesn't." She said, "His heart is in Lydon and getting her back to her citizens. That is just how he is. But he has never treated me with anything less than respect, and compassion and kindness." Her hand hovered over the door for just a moment, usually she wasn't going in there to stay. Looking over her shoulder, her silvery eyes regarded him. For once they were calm, centered, not the chaotic tempest they normally were. Her entire body was shaking like a leaf, the dust leaving her system completely and her body shutting down from the lack of it. "I'd die for that a thousand times over." She said as she opened the door and it closed behind her with a cold and spine chilling thud. Ira's joking words washed over her in a familiar wave and she was enveloped in his all too familiar embrace. She too closed her eyes, pushing her cheek into his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. She would never find more comfort than in this very place - not the dungeon - but his embrace. His smell, the sound of that steady heart beat. They'd clung to each other for long nights, using this very embrace just to keep them going until the next morning. Through Sam's death, through the raids and skirmishes, the end of their country. His question took her out of her reverie, she knew she would have to explain. There was just so much, so much to explain..... A sigh escaped her lips, she'd finally be able to unburden herself of it all. She didn't let go of him as she began to talk, in fact, she held him all the closer. "There is a lot you don't know Ira." She said, "I suppose now's the best time to tell you, I've only been acquiring tragedy since we parted." She laughed a little at this and her teeth chattered a bit from the withdrawals. "After I smuggled you and Aiden out of the country, I went into hiding. I was a collared slave of the general your brother killed after all." She smirked to herself, "Regardless, I found out I was pregnant with our daughter. Had her, gave her up. She's somewhere with my half brother, hopefully doing better than being a whore. I got caught after that, taken in by the bastards for their "research programs" - you know the ones that General talked about? Well, got committed to one of those. They forced us to be addicted to dust to keep us compliant and docile -" She had to pause, fighting down a wave of nausea at the mere memory, but she forced herself to keep going. "A lot of shit went down there. A lot of shit that fucked me up bad Ira - worse than that fucking war - all the surgeries and lost men - way worse." She shuddered, "I cut myself off from the dust, got myself sober. Arrogant bastards thought we would just dose ourselves because we were so addicted. Fucking Namurians. I got out - you don't need to know how. Set out to find you and realized I wasn't the woman you knew and there was no way I could face you. Anyway, that brings me to here. Started the dust again not too long ago." This was likely the hardest part of her confession, something she'd known for a long, long time. "I'm dying Ira." she finally ground out, "All Genovan Doctors end up with Black Lung at some point from the shit we smoke in that pipe I always had. I'm just luckier than most because - quite ironically - the chemical steroid in Dust prolongs the disease. I came here, agreed to be here, because I could do research on how to cure any disease. ANY disease! But my work ended up in failure after failure - people kept turning into vampires for some stupid reason. So I started using dust again to keep it at bay - or at lease keep out the pain from it. There was a whole thing with a plant too - had to use to keep the memories of you out of my head. They drive me near insane." She stopped talking and merely hung onto him, body shaking violently at this point. The silence stretched forever and she let it, because this was just how they did things. Damn did it feel good to not be holding onto the truth anymore. "Th-there you have it." She said through chattering teeth, "And yet here we are. S-somehow you found me again - you fucking idiot- you weren't born a piece of shit like me - I t-tried to give you all the chances I could to stay out of trouble - Just ddddo me a favor and dd-on't let me die choking on my own vomit from th-these damn withdrawals." 24 hours, she only had to survive 24 hours of detox and she would be free and clear of the dust.
  23. 1 point
    I'm interested in this. Please notify me when this begins.
  24. 1 point

    songs of the devout.

    @King She left with no other reason than she wished to go. Kadia has finally exchanged hands, leaving the throne and all its lovely ornaments to her youngest siblings - Connor. There was no reason for her to be against this, not when they had fought beasts and their ilk together, shed blood together, nearly died together, and have given their youthful years to the warp that had almost destroyed Kadia. Through all those moments of near-deaths and near failures, Connor showed that he was the hateful mix of their mother and father, bearing the pride of their mother and the coldness of their father regally. So naturally, the throne belongs to him. And it should have bothered her. There is a strangeness surrounding her sibling, something she can't exactly put her finger on, but it was enough to make the young lady relinquish her titles to find a life outside the Empire. It bothered her, yet it did not. Failsafes are in place for a reason, mother and father have made it clear they'll be watching from a distance and will step in when necessary. Olympia knows her home will be in good hands, no matter her feelings towards Connor, who has earned his strangeness. Aside from her parents, she understands that Cornelius is also watching with Lyonene right at his side. Kadia is safe - for now. With that for now in mind, she escaped into the night, never to return. Freedom is a strange burden. The event in Kadia did more than just age her a handful of years; it made her a little less wary of strangers and the world they inhabit. Her childishness is still worn in her manner of speech: the abundance of each word, the misuse of her excitement, the tone of curiosity. Sheltered for most her life, she can't help but look at the world with wide-eyed wonder, even though she has told herself to play cautious and coy. Weary, sure. Careless? Absolutely. It's the freedom flowing through her veins that's making her appreciate the world around her a tad more. It has also made her remember. Sitting beneath a withering, cold tree, she stares fondly at a rose. Its stem is being spun between gloves fingers, while dark eyes admire the loveliness of the gift that had been given to her some time ago. Rafael, his name echoes through her mind with immense fondness attached to it. If she were home and the devout knew of her like for the man considered less than human, they'd have her stripped and flogged, maybe even brainwashed. Out in the wilderness, she is free to think of Rafael and enjoy the memories brought on by merely whispering his name to herself. He had created a new world for a young girl hiding behind her father's legs. He had spoken to her sweetly, given her a gift, and promised her a dance under the moonlight. It was in that moment she had broken her religious fanaticism towards her father's belief; there was no way she could be faithful to his cause when Rafael had shown her in a few gestures that the world is painted using many different strokes. Then, just like now, she whispered his name to the stars and spoke to him as if he had always been there. The conversations vary, and the chosen piece for tonight are the fears. Sleep is difficult due to the memories of the warp and what she had gone through; the inability to accept such a weakness that she would struggle with such a trivial matter. He wouldn't judge, she is sure of this, which is why she speaks to the air around her as if it were him with ease and comfort.
  25. 1 point

    one so skilled [yanaihara]

    Listening to the soldier he sighed and looked at Renjiro. "If you're wondering my animosity for you being here. I was in a tavern in town and the clan who held out near there liked to beat the people and rob them. I was a victim of their beatings too just for being what I am. After that I held a distaste for clans. That's also partially why I never joined a clan when they ask me." With a pause he motioned outside to the Kozui and the villagers. "You, however, are different. You actually helped the people, you helped me. You also helped these people when they called for you. Other clans came looking just for me and ignored them. If you'll forgive my earlier rudeness than I'd be grateful." As he finished the tea, he handed the cup to healer woman and stood up. "If there is no other business to attend to I have to go back to my home. You might've seen it on the way to this village. It would've looked like a large wooden shed on the side of the road." As he takes a step outside the hut he adds one more thing. "I actually have to go back home no matter what you say. I have a pet waiting for me, so if anything else needs to be said then follow me or meet me there." With that he heads to his house and walks down the road.
  26. 1 point
    The initial moments following their departure from the Master's immediate company were served with nothing short of silence as he seemed to almost drag the Doctor out of the room. Once they'd managed to meet the stairs however, he relinquished his grip on her, allowing her to walk on her own. He craned his neck to look over his shoulder, as if his preternatural sense could be fooled in knowing if they were being followed. "You really believe yourself don't you? You believe that you truly love him." His words might have made it seem as if he was preparing to mock her, though in all reality he was envious of Ira. Of her feelings for him. Not that those feelings had to come from her, though Alistair felt slighted by not finding such complex levels of affection in his short miserable life. In his second, longer life at that. He thought he'd found something special with Maryanne, though her presence proved fleeting enough for him to question if she was ever coming back. Urging her to go first, he'd easily follow her down the stairs in which he'd continue from his rhetorical question. "All I can say is that I love his love for you runs just as deep, though if it did I doubt we would have ever met. Especially more than once."
  27. 1 point
    Introducing Amy Harrison. Don't ask her about home or you might get an uncalled for 'what you never seen a Brit before'.
  28. 1 point
    Here's mine!
  29. 1 point
    Heyyyy! Another female character! And speaks Spanish! Our characters already have two things in common.
  30. 1 point

    The Division (Modern Post-Apocalypse)

    Here's my character 🙂
  31. 1 point

    Soon you'll see

    He tried to hide it, but Joseph couldn't help but display confusion and embarrassment on his face at Primera's greeting. He was decidedly not used to women being so... touchy... in this way anyway. Even so, he took a seat beside her listening to her question, which forced him to pause in contemplation before he dared answer. "Oh, do feel free to share." he settled on responding, "I am quite interested. Well, provided you are referring to the intrigues of the political world, as I suspect you are." It was well enough, he preferred not to have to explain in full his motives for being here. Indeed, his motives might not be welcome to many, were they to be voiced aloud. Primera's offer of "gossip" was a preferable direction to take the conversation in any case, as it kept the subject off him and allowed him a better chance to learn about the Grand Kommandant herself, and anyone she was willing to speak of. And while the term "gossip" did not necessary carry the best connotation, there was no way what Primera offered to share could be any worse than what Abigail's horrid aunt speaks about whenever anyone is foolish enough to listen to her. @Aleksei
  32. 1 point

    Church On The Hill

    Though the sight of Ioreth's body wrapped in the clinging white cloth was a welcome one, Viscerex knew a woman's nudity was a secret better kept than revealed. He turned and exited the river on the opposite bank and collected a heavy wolf-pelt cloak from a tree branch where it had been hanging during these warmer times. The barbarian threw it over his shoulder and brought it across the river to the elf. "A warhorse?" might he have enjoyed the opportunity to talk of how weak Constans had made this little town? How his lack of experience and his fanciful notions of peace had doomed Coth before it even began? That God had judged him unworthy, and that darkness would overcome them all as Ioreth had forseen? Yes. But, Ioreth had gotten him a warhorse. When he was a boy, his father had stolen him a pony and he had learned to ride. Atop his tiny steed he had tasted the air of freedom, and he relished the chance to do so again. A warhorse. He had seen them in the stables of knights before-- towering beasts from which great men could look down upon their enemies as they smote them in glorious battle-- yet never had he imagined he might have one of his own. After all, they were expensive (or, for the aspiring horse thief, well guarded) and rare. "...where is this horse?" he asked, unable to restrain his enthusiasm. He could complain about Constans later. Really, such complaints were useless anyways. The boy would continue to flail helplessly in the face of God's displeasure and Coth would be razed to the ground in the wake of his impotence. When that inevitable day came, Viscerex would take Ioreth on the back of his new horse and ride with her to the dark forests of his youth and there make her a queen over all his people. A warhorse. "I...uh...I mean to say thank you, lady. I am not worthy of your gift." gift giving was the basis of all relationships, be they familial or romantic. In this gesture, Viscerex could only see a hopeful future, despite all the darkness in Ioreth's dreams. @KittyvonCupcake
  33. 1 point

    Extremis Malis, Extrema Remedia

    Amy sat in the building she called home. It wasn't much of a home since she barely used it but it was still the placed she slept the most, ate the most and enjoyed the most. Shitty rundown building made up the most of what she used. It was one thing to be forced into a place that isn't your home but to do it of one's own free will is another. Despite being in her own home she was always prepared. She always had her contacts in and her backpack with her whether she was out hunting or when she was out 'hunting'. It wasn't long before she saw her watch and backpack glow and with a heavy sigh she went to her bedroom. Quietly entering her room she walked in her closet and opened the hidden panel in the back. Slowly sliding out a couple cases, pulling them onto her bed. With a few flicks she opened the cases and put together her guns. They were far from standard issue of what the SHD gave her. These were the only guns she ever used and needed. Two CZ 75's one equipped with a flashlight and a Dragunov sniper rifle, 1963 make, used by the soviet union. All the while she put them together she heard the President talk to her and all the other Division agents. "Yes sir Mister President. Green Poison. Executive Order 51. Do this, do that. Shoot these people, shoot those people." With a huff she stood up and walked out her house before walking the streets. Upon exiting her house, she smelled the fresh cold air and walked down her street towards the Brooklyn Bridge Park. It was the most obvious place they would rendezvous seeing as everyone in city knows it. She listened to the comms and heard three people speak. One agent used his real name, another simply acknowledged that he's coming and the last sounded professional. Too professional. The person going by the callsign 'Fiver' was most likely a soldier. A moment of silence on the comms from her end before she finally talked. "Jackdaw. See you there boys." It wasn't long before she saw the park as she lived only two streets away from. As she neared it, she pulled up her scarf over her mouth and on that scarf was a bird, a Jackdaw, on the front for all to see.
  34. 1 point

    Soon you'll see

    @Tyler And his hand is taken and then manipulated by bejeweled fingers so that his knuckles face skyward. Slowly, she pressed his knuckles against her forehead where a golden crescent has made its home; lowering his knuckles to her lips, she releases his hand with a parting kiss that was just a whisper against his skin. The greeting is an exaggerated one for sure and would more than likely seem odd and awkward to those unaware of the woman's culture. Milorian had almost slapped her when she went to kiss his hand; the first time, though then she had grabbed a strand of his hair and kissed it first. Nonetheless, the Grand is Grand in all ways. "Delphine." "Of course! I will be just over here if either of you needs anything." The Seeker bowed towards the two and gracefully excused herself, giving the two people of power their space and privacy to speak of things that are not her business. It also gave her a moment to gaze at Grant; his earlier smile and wink were burned into her memory, and she would be rendered melancholic if she were to miss a smile or glance her way from him. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Joseph Tynes. Please, have a seat." Primera stood up to rearrange the piles of silk gathered about her to clear a path for the man to sit and get comfortable. For some, it took a minute or less to get over the overbearing warmth emanating off the woman; for others, it was her scent that was almost overwhelming. It has been described as sulfurous, somewhat like gunpowder - like sweet-smelling welding fumes; her husband had once, so graciously told her. She could not attest to such descriptions. Hopefully, Joseph will not be put off by the warmth and smell of the woman adorned in red silks. Once he sat, she would follow after. The diamond stars decorating her red hair twinkled much like her opal hues that absently stare blindly at Joseph. "Grand Kommadant Primera Cartyr - poor company, I am afraid. I am here simply for the gossip and drama, and I suppose moral support to some." She tapped a diamond encrusted pin on her shoulder: the Mythal Dred Wolf. It wasn't her favorite pin, but she was threatened with death if she wore the more fancy pins of the same thing. "What of you, Ser Joseph, why are you here? Certainly not to sit with a gossiping hen," she said with a great big smile that split her youthful face. "Or if you have, may I intrigue you with what I know?" The last bit was to tease - or was it?
  35. 1 point

    Naughty or Nice?

    "Did we get him!? Did we finally get him, nya?" The remaining Alices remarked with excitement as Ógurligr crumbled into a pile of armour and smoke - seemingly down for the count; but the cat girl wasn't about to count on it just yet as Alice Prime kept her gun trained on the pile of remains that used to be a powerful foe, for a moment thinking that he was pulling a bluff and that any moment he could just reconstitute himself to continue the fight with renewed vigour. However, she would lower her weapon as Santa's reaction confirms that they had indeed whacked his right-hand man elf. Still, a moment of respite was all they would get. "Now what-" Alice Prime raised her weapon, her finger curling around the trigger as Santa summoned a pall of smoke that quickly surrounded her - although as soon as she could make out the shapes that were taking form behind the clouds the fire within her quickly dissipated and became replaced with a raw, naked fear at the sight of the Dobermans. "No... NO!" Alice Prime yelled as she fell back - the sight of the ferocious canines triggering a series of very unpleasant - if not downright traumatic - flashbacks for the cat girl. It was in her early days, back when she was still undergoing 'personality readjustment' by her trainers at Hinode Pharmaceuticals. Which for all intents and purposes was an euphemism to mentally and emotionally breaking her - as with all the other test subjects in the Aeon Angel program. A mind that has been broken, so that her trainers can remake and recondition her in any way they see fit, as well as a form of failsafe in the event she should ever turn against them. She could remember being cornered in a cell with attack dogs kept on a leash, the sadistic trainers keeping the ravenous canine's jaws just inches away from her face; she could remember being cramped inside a cage as they unloaded water cannons at her. "No, please... make it stop! I'll be good, I promise to be good..." as the Dobermans unleashed a water cannon attack on Alice Prime she would find herself overwhelmed to the point of losing any sense of fight or flight as she simply curled up on the tarmac in a fetal position, as Alice Beta watched the spectacle unfold in an almost catatonic state; it was like watching the days of her training and reconditioning being reenacted - and it felt almost surreal. However... "Don't. Underestimate. Me..." Alice Beta hissed, as a steely resolve bubbled up from within her. It was like watching a reenactment of her reconditioning - but before, she was powerless, she was vulnerable. But ever since she successfully broke free of the megacorporation's control alongside Mina and the others she'd sworn to herself. "Never again." "Never again," Alice Beta said, first in a whisper as her steely resolve turned into red-hot anger. "NEVER AGAIN, YOU HEAR!?" the two words basically being her survival mantra as she said them again, this time out loud as the magical sigils appeared over her right arm as she conjured another one of her fireballs X'mas Puddings and lobbed her explosive projectile at where the Dobermans seemed to be most tightly-packed together, before charging at them claws-first and swinging left and right in a berserker rage; hopefully, her actions might be able to inspire Alice Prime to pull herself together and get back in the fight! @HollowCipher @Hurttoto @Thotification
  36. 1 point

    On Far Away Shores (Open)

    They are coming. Khaki frowned as she finished her meal. Whatever the eldritch parasite within her had sensed was clearly less important than her enjoyment of this meager dish. She's not fighting with an empty stomach. Despite her rather petite stature, Khaki requires excessive amounts of sustenance in order to satisfy her ravenous hunger. This, however, is mostly due to the eldritch abominations insatiable desire to devour. Coming closer. Partially satisfied with her meal, Khakina stood up and began packing and rechecking her gear before the fight. She had a feeling that mundane weaponry might not be enough to protect her but she'll have to work with what she has. From the memories of the eldritch abomination's previous host, she can more or less deduce their current enemy's form. You won't survive this. Run. Shrugging off the parasite's plea, the little girl left her room in search of Miss Blonde. It did not take her long to find her and the other members of their little party. Climbing atop the assault skiff, she waited for her employer's instructions. Reference art credited to FGO MHX Alter
  37. 1 point

    Two Parts Of a Trinity (Artifact)

    Grant knew that she was right; and she wasn't the first person to remind him that he was only a man, and not a god. While he was more powerful than most, he was still fallible, and there were still limits to what he could do. Deep down he knew that he had done everything he could to save the city. But somehow when he closed his eyes and saw the faces of those he couldn't protect, it didn't feel like enough. Somehow though, he would have to make it enough. If he didn't, he would never be able to protect anyone the next time. Returning her hand squeeze, the prince looked down at his lover and was reminded once more why he had come to love her so quickly. It wasn't simply that she was beautiful; although only a blind man would deny that she was. Her compassion, her intelligence, her consideration for others all amazed him. A person who had been through the ordeals she had would be well within their rights to withdraw into themselves and never come out. But though she clearly had those feelings, she fought against them; and was a better person for it. "As long as I can protect the people I love," he said, moving his head closer to her, "I'll find a way to live with it." Their lips were practically touching when he heard the ringing of bells, and the shouts and jeers of violent men. Getting to his feet, he looked and saw exactly what he feared he would. "Pirates."
  38. 1 point

    Extremis Malis, Extrema Remedia

    Merrick had been sitting alone in the modest apartment he rented above the small bar in Hell's Kitchen where he worked; the lights off, listening to the sounds of chaos outside. A bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label sat on the kitchen counter in front of him, waiting to be opened. Smoke drifted from the cigarette held between his fingers, the soft glow at the end eerie in the darkness. He had quit smoking years ago, save for special occasions. The end of the civilized world seemed like a good enough reason for him to indulge before he was called to face it. The former Ranger had been wearing his contacts during his waking hours for days; knowing full well what was coming. Ever since Dark Winter, they had been waiting for a situation like this. Waiting and praying, though he had never put much stock in the latter. But he did believe in the old boy scout motto; be prepared. It was part of the reason he had joined the SHD when they had approached him all those years ago. For over a decade now, he had prepared for the crisis he knew would eventually come; even if he could not predict what form it would take. Now as his smart watch pulsed with light and sound, he knew what he had to do. ISAC booted up in no time, and he was soon greeted with the same message that hundreds of others would also be seeing. He listened to the voice of the president and internalized the important details. The Green Poison. Executive Order 51. Restore order and rebuild society by any means necessary. At the very end was a reminder; that the American people were depending on them. Unnecessary. They all knew what their task was. Kruger put out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray before twisting the lid off of the bottle of whiskey; and poured himself two fingers into a plain tumbler. He downed the amber liquid in one gulp, enjoying the burning sensation that trailed down his throat and bloomed in his chest before he got up. As he walked to his bedroom he ordered ISAC to scan for contaminants, silently pleased when the surrounding area came up clean. He opened his walk-in closet and placed his hand on an innocuous section of wall. Pushing in, a lever clicked, and the hidden panel slid away to reveal a safe, which he opened by placing his watch in the center. His gear was simple, but designed for maximum efficiency. Simple, warm clothing, and the latest generation of tactical vest accounted for his attire. A backpack with three days of rations, a small medical kit, a thermal blanket, and water purification tablets and spare ammo. An M4 carbine and an M1911 handgun made up his main armaments, with a few knives and grenades rounding it out. A particulate mask and filters where the last part of his kit. Scanning for frequencies as he got kitted out, and it wasn't long before a slightly panicked sounding voice came over the comm. The poor guy sounded like he'd been roused from sleep, so he didn't take the breach of protocol too seriously. "Callsigns only on the radio. I'll rendezvous with you at the park. Fiver out." With that, he walked out of his apartment, and with one last fond look at the life he had built, left for the Brooklyn Bridge.
  39. 1 point
    "Fuck, man this is bad." A scared voice said, the deep local accent giving way to the same scared shit George Buckley had heard a thousand times, on a thousand men from South America to Africa to the Middle East; language, culture, it didn't matter. When a man was about to die he always sounded the same. Laying with his back against the wall a young man held his gut, his dark skin paling as the dark red liquid pumped from his open wounds. He was an unremarkable youth, wearing a bright red winter jacket and loose fitting jeans, a pair of tan work boots covered in blood stood out against the pink snow and cheap looking shotgun sat across his waist. "Buck man." He whined, his eyes tearing up as he looked up at the older man kneeling down in front of him. George "Grayson" Buckley had seen this scene more times then he would like, and his hard expression was mostly hidden by a pair of large dark sunglasses. "I'm sorry, kid." George said, his voice like gravel doing it's best to soothe the younger man. It wasn't long after that the young man's eyes faded, his stare becoming that eerie empty it always did. The young man was no soldier, his appearance leaving little doubt of that. George had been trained throughout the years to make use of locals to bolster his own force, and he had trained hundreds of poorly educated men to fight, and often die, for a cause he had convinced them they cared about. The dead boy laying on the street was just another, a local whom George had trained, equipped and sent against men better trained and better equipped. He wasn't the first George had trained since he had been activated, and he doubted the boy would be the last. George stood up, grabbing a handful of snow and wiping his blood stained hands as he did. George Buckley looked like a relic, his Russian Soviet era green jacket standing out against the grays and whites that was Brooklyn - to say nothing of his red shemagh. A keen eye would find other oddities on the old man, the 'web' gear he wore over his jacket which held his extra magazines, grenades and other tools an antiquated foreign design, likely South American. His boots were standard issue US Army, at least they were during Vietnam. A smart watch stood out stark against his old school attire, as did the weapon slung against his chest. Looking like a mixture of an AR pattern rifle and an MP5 the Sig MPX was a decidedly cutting edge sub-machine gun, showing just a subtle hint that George Buckley was not quite the relic he appeared to be - though the lack of optical sight was decidedly old school. Gripping the suppressed firearm George turned away from the dead boy, stalking down the streets like a proud old lion. Almost as soon as he had begun he stopped, his watch pinging his ear piece - SHD Agent nearby. Seconds later the radio frequency opened up, a young man's voice asking for rendezvous, a newbie if his transmission was to be believed. "See you there, kid." George responded, a subtle bemusement present in his tone. Without another word George stalked toward the park, his stride a little quicker then before.
  40. 1 point
    Grayson Buckley — Basics Real Name: George Buckley Alias: Grayson Buckley Callsign: Robin Age: 56 Occupation: Corporate Security Affiliation: Strategic Homeland Division — Looks Height: 5'11" Weight: 170lbs Gender: Male Hair: Gray (Bald) Eyes: Green Voice: Gravel, commanding. — Skills Covert Operations (Logistics acquisition, local connections, 'spook' work.) Urban Combat Wetwork Multi-Language Fluent (English, Spanish, Somali, Dari & Pashto) — Psychological Profile Joined the US Army in 1979, forging his age to get in at age 16 using his brother Grayson's birth certificate. Completed Green Beret training that same year, assigned to 19th SF Group 1st Battalion. Discovered to have forged enlistment documents, dishonorably discharged. Quickly picked up by the CIA to work in the SAD/SOG tactical operations team as a civilian contractor. Served five years in Nicaragua from 1979 to 1985, noted for easy acceptance of 'grey' morality. Briefly served in El Salvador. Lead 'loud' operations in Somalia from 1985 to 1993. Served in Afghanistan from 1993 to 2011. Recruited by SHD in 2011, part of the first wave activated to defend Manhattan. Prefers to work in a small team, willing and able to adjust morality to situation, Noted for a rough, sarcastic personality not uncommon among CIA operatives.
  41. 1 point
    The North Wind

    On Far Away Shores (Open)

    Before long Nocturna would return to the house to find Blonde had returned from her rest. Doing her best attempt at a subtle approach she walked to Blonde. Her large figure was usually imposing but she knew Blonde and Blonde knew her. Maybe not friends but comrades in battle. She would gently reach for Blondes shoulder to get her attention. A small saphire box held within her left hand engraved in a foreign language. "If you have a moment, I must give something to you. Before it is too late."
  42. 1 point

    Lirrey Lines

    “So, what’s the use of hoarding all these books in the middle of nowhere?” Lunara asked the man. “Also, what kind of deal exactly did you strike with the last Herald?” She smiled daintily. “You know, the little witch taught me a fire spell just now, but I’m not very good at controlling it yet. I even accidentally burnt my knight just now.” She twirled a strand of hair between her fingers casually. "A very impressive feat I'm sure," he humored the young fairy, though remaining engrossed in his book. "A Harold and a prodigy, you seem to have it all going for you." his voice was borderline sarcastic, but there was a brightness to his tone that suggested his genuine praise. A concerned look came over the man as the young lady of shadows trailed behind Karuna, placing the books in an order he did not orchestrate. He would attempt to read while looking up to take account of the book being placed elsewhere, but do nothing to stop it. Karuna, so involved in her search, did not even notice her. "As for the 'Deal', I have no idea what you are referring to. I was more of a nuisance to her than anything. Always pestering and meddling. She could never figure out how I had been so elusive. She could not even find my hiding place. Right under her nose. Well- all good things come to an end I suppose. His eyes shoot a look up at Dolor as his bulky frame stampedes the stacks of books leading to the Fae. His eyes scanned Dolor's location, more specifically the books that were falling. without a second thought, his hand raised and a select few books from those piles fail to reach the floor, suspended mid air. the rest fall unceremoniously with a rather large cloud of dust and sand. Some arcane sounds could be heard harmonizing with the sound of scattered sand and dust from the upheaval. He did not bother to chastise. A man his size was bound to topple a few stacks of books. But he could at least try to look sorry about it. The select books chosen for rescue then found their way to another stack of books far from where the party resided, which isn't really that far considering the size of the shack-like home. "These books hold very little value to me to be quite honest with you. Burning them actually would not be a bad idea in retrospect-" His voice was low and unamused, speaking through a sigh, "Though I suppose until I come to a consensus, I'd be best to keep them here where the chances of finding them are slim to none. On one hand, in this room holds the potential power to destroy cities if used correctly, On the other, I have a strong belief that all information is valuable no matter how destructive. One mans cancer could be another' cure for mortality. I've traveled the world in search of the power I need to-" he cuts himself off halting his reading to look at the ceiling for the correct word he used previously, "Satiate my Insatiable...but to no avail. Now I'm left with books that mean nearly nothing to me." He still remained on the same page as he was before. He seemed to have a harder time focusing. He was not used to these many people in his home. It wasn't until Dolor finally demanded he help Karuna did the man finally take initiative. He huffed loudly. "She should be able to help herself but I suppose my expectations were to high." This sudden outburst grabbed Karuna's undivided attention immediately as she placed the book she was about to choose down. "What's that suppose to mean?" she retorted in a threatening manner. The man gets up in a rather swift motion, uncrossing his legs in a spin. So fast, in fact, that it leaves a faded green after image of him reading a book. Except...he did not move that fast. And the After image did not dissipate. It was still reading the book. Taken aback, Karuna lips parted slightly as if to say something but was interrupted by the man who approached her. his palms were open to her. "Your hands, may I see them?" She paused for a moment, looking up at him with a confused look but eventually submitting her hands to the man. Like a fly trap, his open palms clam shut as Karuna winced from the stinging pain, but the pain did not reside in her wrists. No, it was her entire arm. The Invisible scars that plagued the entirety of her arms became apparent with a luminous purple glow. "You have Void Rot." he responded monotonously. She pulled away, holding her elbows. "What was that?" she cried out, her hands still stinging similarly to when she overused her powers in the caverns. "Void Rot, girl, pay attention." he walks to one of the stacks of books and with tact, yanked a thick leather book from in between the stack without toppling the pile. he immediately underhand throws it to Karuna. She instinctively catches it but almost topples over by the sheer weight of the book. By now the scars have faded. "It's a condition that occurs when novice Sorcerers such as yourself use more magic than their bodies are capable of handling. I'm assuming you are of novice level considering you cannot even sense the books that are of most value to you." He lifts a finger and a book in the corner flings in the air in Karuna's Direction. She catches it as well, with similar results as the first. "H-hey wait a-" she was cut off. "Left untreated, Void Rot can permanently hinder a sorcerer from using their magic among loosing their lives at a much faster pace than natural." "P-permanently??" She seemed more in fear of the former than the latter. She stammered towards him, only to have another book thrown at her. she barely manages to keep her pile stable. "You absolutely wreak of magic girl, and you are no fairy, or elemental, which means your body is leaking Mana at a dangerous rate. Judging from those scars you've been leaking long before your adventure began. This has surely shaven a few years from your life." Karuna was in utter shock, as if a doctor had revealed a terminal illness to her. Before she could interject, he raised a palm to silence her. "Those books will teach you fundamental Herbology. Somewhere in there you should be able to concoct a cure to remedy the issue; I'd show you how, but I am no teacher, and it might give you incentive to take this time to self reflect on your recklessness. And this-" He places a much lighter book with a magicians hat on the cover on top of the pile now reaching mid chest. "Will be the Gateway to learning your Journey as a Magician Class witch." He walked to a table at the end of the shack giving Karuna a chance to finally speak. "Magician? You mean illusion magic? No I'm no illusionist i'm an anarchist mage." "So you tell yourself. Anyway, I believe that is what you were looking for." Karuna shakes her head aggressively. "No! I-" "Well, it's what you need. Frankly, I haven't a clue what your plans are Girl, but I have very little hopes for you if you cannot find the book you seek." He stiffens for a moment his face noticeable in it's restraint. He took a breath and wipes a sweat off his brow. "Either way, it seems We've run out of Time." Wearily, he snaps his fingers and suddenly green flames swarm his section of the shack, halting at where the group resided though It was spreading to their side gradually. Karuna jumped back, more so startled at the books catching fire. "What are you doing?!" She screamed, backing up at the encroaching flames. Engulfed in the fire, he merely smiled. "I'd be bad for me to just leave such power unattended, especially after being compromised like this... I'v derided to remove them." The fire fluctuated, his cloak flying into the flames. Through the flickers of the inferno, a green flowing lantern and hook may be visible on either side and from it a demonic presence. At this point, they may find the shack hard to breathe in. With a lack of ventilation, and temperatures rising dangerously high the exit would be the most favorable option. The flames seemed unwilling to extinguish and by now the man was barely visible. Karuna coughed heavily, almost toppling over her books. She glanced over to where the ghastly version of the man was. His form was gone but the book was still there, unburnt. There was no reason to believe this book held any importance to her cause. Perhaps it were out of spite. But with her eyes glowing purple, she pulled the book into her pile and began to run out of the building pile in hand. Perhaps individuals would catch a glimmer of the man's skeleton before the he was unable to be distinguished from the blaze. If all left the building, the house would then fully unleash its flurry of flames, melting the sandstone that it was built upon. The house soon turned to bubbling sand. And the man would be gone. Karuna had dropped the books, now on her hands and feet coughing the rest of the smoke out of her system. The books she gathered were scattered on the sand-plated floor. She spoke between coughs while still gathering the books in a stack. "Is everyone...okay?"
  43. 1 point

    Long Roads Ahead (Back to Square One)

    As Priscilla checked on Torie behind the bushes, Aaric himself lorded over the quivering kobolds. Now that they were more cooperative, it would be easier for him to buy time for the tigress to recover from her misfired spell. Salamanders? Aaric thought. Now there's an idea! The wayfarer looked off into the distance from the direction the motley crew came from. It was clear and there was no guards nor any civilian in sight. He turned back to address them. "As a matter of fact, mighty Trashkill wishes to rid this world of those slimy salamanders! There is a mine, not far from here that are full of them. If you get that cart up and bring us to the mine, then the great and noble Trashkill shall forgive you for your transgressions!" "Yes! Yes! Glory to the great Trashkill! Kill the salamanders!" The kobolds cheered. "Good! Get going and repair the cart!" Aaric exclaimed dramatically. "In the name of Trashkill the Blight!" "TRASHKILL THE BLIGHT! HUZZAH!" The scaly creatures chanted in unison before turning their backs and rushing off to repair the remains of their wagon.
  44. 1 point

    NARCollections OOC

    @Hurttoto can post up, if they like, and then we can move along. If not, post up by tuesday!
  45. 1 point

    On Far Away Shores (Open)

    @SteamWarden @Thotification @The North Wind @vielle @Turquoisie @Djinn&Juice @Thotification @notmuch_23 @Fierach @Metty @danzilla3 She was home now, the galaxy of her birth, rise, and fall. With that came her reattachment to the cosmic and living force. Where visions had left her in the World of Vulcre, they would return here. So within that deep sleep, she could see it laid out in front of her. The past, the present, and what could come to pass. Her mind without the mask would reach out, the powerful psychic connection without the mask’s restraint would share the visions with those that weighed heavy on her mind. Jack and Wynona would be witness to those visions that echoed out of her mind. The first was brief, but something that had troubled her for quite some time. A massive structure, a flag ship standing over two thousand meters in length and width lay buried in the sands of a far off world and desert. Standing within its ruin was none other than the masked woman herself, and before her were men, women, and children. Engineers that had called this ruin home and had done their best to repair it. Huddled in a tight circle and surrounding them were the metal droids that Jack had known as War Dogs. Armed mechanical servants of death that held their rifles at the frightened group that had been held prisoner by the Crime Lord. ”We promise! We’ve seen the faces of your men but we’ll never tell a soul! I swear to god!” An older man professed to her as he held what could be his granddaughter by his side. ”So I have your word then?” The bright yellow lights of Blonde’s mask stared them down and looked to them with the intent of a woman willing to do whatever it took. There was a moment of hesitation. The man stuttered for a moment before replying. ”O-off course, you have my word. Your secrets are safe with us.” A lie, of course it was. ”So you’ll let us go right?” He asked in one last plea for life. ”Yeah. You have my word as well.” Turning her back she began to walk towards the fading light of dusk. Without so much as a brief moment of hesitation, without even breaking a single step in her stride, she looked to the War Dog standing guard at the entrance. ”Kill them all.” only the sounds of blaster fire and screams echoed outward into the darkness that claimed her mind. Everything once again went black. The void of shadows and clairvoyance that this universe brought on pushed forward and like a hot knife through butter, it sliced that darkness in two to reveal another sight. It revealed what was. It stood to reason that Wynona and Jack had not seen this level of technology and war. Thousands of years of constant destruction and death had yielded what could be considered one of the most advanced and powerful tools of war that the most who traveled the multiverse had ever seen. A fleet of ships that made The Cardinal look like a grain of sand that covered the very beach they stood on. Ships and harbingers of death that pushed through the depths of space in bloody defiance of its cold and merciless nature. Ships that could take Sigil, that could take Valucre and reduce its buildings to ash and surface to glass. The largest in the fleet spanning over a two miles in length, it’s bridge held a sinister presence. Standing tall was a figure covered in blackened robes and a wicked metal mask that could make the strongest men quake in their boots. They simply stared out at a vortex of blue streaking lines that blurred reality of time and space around it. Approaching the figure was a man dressed in a drab grey uniform of pristine condition, he bowed and took a knee before the robed and masked figure. ”My lord. We are approaching Relovian. Our force recon troops of the Axillary have reported in on the hard targets and civilian centers. Shall we commence with standard protocol and battle plans?” He asked while keeping his head and eyes planted firmly to the ground. ”No. I sense a presence. -One I have not felt for quite some time.” The robed lord said in a modulated voice from their helmet. ”My lord?” with his head now facing upwards, he looked up at the servant of darkness in curiosity. ”I will be leading our forces on Largan City, send the cloned trash to secure the outlying islands and outskirts. There is something I must tend to myself within the city. Something our emperor has promised me would be mine.” With a graceful turnabout, the masked figure looked down at the figure behind them. ”Ready the men. I will take this world in our dark lord Carnifex’s name.” Stepping ahead and away from the man kneeling, they pushed away and soon the vision of the present faded into nothing. And finally the future. What could come to pass. A ruined city burned under the night sky. Littering the streets were the dead of many men and women. Some in a plasteel white armor, some residents of Sigil, members of Wynona’s and Blonde’s crew. People who had fought and died for caused not their own, and others just civilians who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hanging above head were the great and many warships of an imperial fleet that cast its dominion and might over those beneath them. Within that chaos standing opposed to one another was the dark robed figure and Miss Blonde. She was without her mask and had sustained multiple injuries, some of which might possibly be life threatening. Yet she stood tall from this malevolent figure all the same in bloody defiance of death. ”What did they do to you!?” Blonde shouted out to her opponent. A deep and robotically modified chuckle escaped the mask of the enemy commander as they began to pace and encircle Miss Blonde. In their hand was a blade made of pure glowing red energy that she soon gave a twirl in order to enter a formal fighting position. ”They showed me the truth. I no longer need you. I no longer need anyone but his grace and darkness.” The figure responded as dark crackling energy began to form in their free hand. ”Don’t make me do this.” Blonde said as she readied her own two blades. Magically imbued daggers manifested in both her hands from up her sleeves and soon after she entered the formal fighting position to engage her enemy. ”I don’t think you have much of a choice. You underestimate my power.” And with that the two ran at each other and right as the blades clashed, the visions snapped and Blonde awoke from her slumber. With air snapping back into her lungs, it had been about an hour and forty five minutes of sleep for her. While she was still very much tired and exhausted, she could function once again. Within Jack’s arms, she stayed there for a few moments. She said nothing for a brief time, completely unaware that those visions had leaked out to him and Wynona, but soon after she began to move. With a quick and passionate kiss to Jack’s lips, she sat on the side of the bed and sighed. She didn’t want to talk about what she saw, she couldn’t allow herself to open up and become an emotional wreck. Not right now. ”Thank you, Love. You mean more to me than you’ll ever know. We have to go now.” reaching over she snapped the mask back on her face and with the hiss of pressurization she stood up and adjusted her suit to make it look orderly and tight. As she exited the room, Blonde accessed her wrist device. Pressing a few buttons, the command was given. From the back of the workshop two large hovercraft skiffs exited and drove themselves outwards onto the beach. ”Make sure the dead are buried, load the wounded onto the second skiff along with able men to protect them.” With that last order, she was now downstairs. ”Fleece up your gear people! We’re Oscar Mike in fifteen! Briefing will be held in ten on the skiffs outside!” No longer needing to limp and stumble, the newly somewhat rested woman exited the house and made her way to the beach. She didn’t head to her skiff though. She first approached Wynona and her crew. It was a dangerous move to say the least, and it was what she continued to owe the woman. None of this went down the way she wanted to. It was all supposed to be so easy at Sigil, but nothing ever really goes according to plan. So when she approached the captain near her ruined ship, she had both hands up. While there was a pistol at her hip, she didn’t reach for it. ”This wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I hoped the spell would filter out you and your crew. You were never supposed to be here. But the energy was too great and consumed my guardrails for your crew and ship. I’ll transfer you my fortune in this galaxy, you can buy yourself a fleet of ships with it, you can make your living here or try to find your way back home. A storm is coming, and your best bet is with me. I’ll do everything in my power to take you home, but you know my children come first.” Blonde said in that robotic tone that Wynona had more than likely come to hate. ”We can kill each other at a later date. I welcome it, I deserve it. For now though, we’re in the same boat. So fight with me or take the money and run. I don’t care. But know that I have a dragon and the best mercenaries and killers money can buy at my side. Whatever your choice is, I’ll respect it.” And with that she walked away to the skiff. Hopefully those people she hired would gather around and listen. The Sith Empire was coming. They would destroy and kill all those around them. The only thing standing between them and absolute ruin was Blonde and the other heavy hitters of Valucre. Climbing atop the assault skiff, she waited for them to join around her and hear what exactly what hell they were about to enter.
  46. 1 point

    Naughty or Nice?

    I feel so tired. So weary. Poor Ravenbush could no longer keep on fighting...she was too exhausted, too fatigued to keep on going. Even her flight is already wavering as her body drooped haphazardly to the ground. Her eyes were closing and she no longer has the strength nor the will to keep them open. Her body sagged, falling dangerously on the cold ground. She was so tired that she could see two version of her older siblings. Two Middys. Why are there two... Those were her last thoughts as she lost consciousness. Unfortunately for her, fake Middy was not one to give chance to enemies as the copycat was already within Shishi's personal space and swinging that wicked bastard blade at the poor defenseless girl. There was a loud clang and the fake Middy would be surprised that her slash was deflected by something hard. It was the dark colored armor of a woman's arm, the arm of someone who should have been on the ground, unconscious. "My, my, what a cheap imitation you are," the person spoke. She had Shishi's body but the person inside was completely different. It was the ghost that haunted Shishi. The apparition must have possessed the poor unconscious woman after seeing her weakened state. Shishi's body was covered in glistening black armor, an ancient artifact known as the Heaven's Armor. "You should know when you are outmatched, copycat," the ghost in Shishi's body sneered, "Prepare to face the original Mistress Blackhead." As the ghost uttered her real name, Shishi's body closed the distance between them. Face to face, the ghost gave the copycat a smug look before her power blossomed around her. Together the two are wrapped in a faint sphere of purplish-black energy where anything inside would feel the effects of a gravitational field ten times the normal. "Bow before my greatness, you faker."
  47. 1 point

    Naughty or Nice?

    Dan calmed himself down. He drank a stamina potion to help offset the drain his wind powers were putting on him, and looked at his teammates again. Strangely, in their down time, they weren't doing... ANYTHING to recover. Didn't ask him for potions, didn't ask for Lupin, nothing. Dan found that VERY strange. This was a taxing fight, and doing nothing to recover when they had the clear opportunity was probably a bad move. But then again, what more could Santa POSSIBLY have? Well, he was about to get that answer. Santa recovered from his shock quite fast. Still not getting out of the sleigh, he held out his hand. "Santa calls to you, Dark One from beyond. Naughty children stand in Santa's way. Santa calls upon you to destroy these pests. Come out my servant!" A dark symbol appeared on the ground, and grew larger and larger, until the symbol changed, and seemed to open into a black void. Out of the void came a strange looking creature. It was completely black, and resembled a goat, but walked on two legs. It had human limbs, human hands, long horns, and a horrible, evil grin. On its back, it carried a large basket. A basket that appeared to be moving and making small muffled sounds. Dan was... well he wasn't sure what he felt here. He was expecting a massively powerful entity, like another armored elf, but he got... a goat demon man? What the fuck even was this? ..................... Krampus. No, I'm still loose and limber. Not 'cramps', kid. Krampus. The Christmas Demon. "Indeed. Your German Persona knockoff is correct, Daniel Palmer. My name is Krampus.And I am here to punish the naughty childrens." With a snap of his fingers, forms started to appear in black smoke. Before Dan, was a large mass of- Dan almost threw up right there. A writhing, pulsating mass, completely covered in holes. His Trypophobia was triggered hard. He could barely even move, he was so nauseous. Before the Maiden, someone very familiar would appear. Someone that she had very much hoped to be rid of. "Well well. Hello, sissy. My my, isn't this awkward?" In front of Alice, several shapes began to take.... well, shape. All of them however, were the same. Within seconds, a legion of Dobermanns appeared in the smoke, each baring its teeth and snarling at the cat girl. It was VERY clear what they wanted to do. The only question was, how many pieces. And in front of Darre, due to a lack of response from her author to a cunning and cruel dungeon master, the form in the smoke was having trouble taking shape. But then, the DM decided he was sick of waiting and the lack of communication, and decided to force it to take shape. And take shape it did. With another snap of his fingers, the beings surged forward. Well, most of them. The mass of holes facing Dan did not surge forward as such. Instead, a startlingly high number of tentacles shot from the holes, wrapping around Dan's limbs, and yanking him back against it. The dogs tore off at Alice, barking loudly. The ones in front, however, opened their mouths wider. When they did, something could be seen in their throats. However, it would not be seen for long, as incredibly strong jets of water shot out of them, almost like a high powered water hose. With a smirk, the Mistress ran at the Maiden with greatly impressive speed, and swung her bastard sword, aiming to cleave the woman in half in a single shot. The horrible, multi-armed, crow-like monstrosity came toward Darre slowly. Until it faded completely in the span of 1.5 seconds, appeared behind her, and slashed downward with all four of its swords. The final two unarmed hands lunged at her to grip her head. Dan was in a panic. Now he was bound, and bound TO the thing that made his insides into Cirque du Soleil. He was just about to turn into air and slip out, when he felt something. And this something took complete command of his entire thought processes, drowning out everything else. The tentacles that weren't binding him were tickling him. He felt them slide along his feet, across his stomach and ribs, up and down his sides, into his armpits, and across his thighs. Dan shrieked in laughter, pulling at his limbs, and getting nowhere. So this was Krampus' ability. To bring what one hates the most to life, and use it against you. Wasn't that just fucking perfect?
  48. 1 point

    And so, it finally ends

    The twins said nothing. The silence was broken only by the click of the shackles locking over Oscar's wrists. He's not getting executed, is he? Pallas thought, unfolding his wings. He gripped the older man's right arm. Mom pardoned the Swornbreaker. Lenore took his place on Oscar's left side, taking hold of his other arm. What Lord Uldwar's done is nothing compared to him. Out loud, he said, "I suggest you don't squirm, Lord Uldwar. It'll be easier to drop you that way." A rush of air. The thunder of wingbeats. The ground spiralled away as the twins took to the air, the weight of the shackles and their prisoner almost negligible. The difference, Lenore silently told his brother, is that Crowley's useful. A moment of silence stretched between their heads. Below, pine boughs gave way to the patchwork of farmland. Andelusia was a marble carving on the horizon. Well. In the end- -he won't be our problem- -anymore.
  49. 1 point

    And so, it finally ends

    "Calm yourself, boy." Oscar said before spitting on the remains of the ashes. "If I wanted to die I would have cut my own throat before you came. I'll come with you peacefully, on one condition." He said, standing before them, a tall man against two smaller boys, but he knew who had the true power within them. "I know what lies in store for my daughter, for her actions. It's not her faults, I directed her to do this." If there was ever a moment he could do something good, let it be this. "Put the blame on me, or I will make sure every moment between my imprisonment and my execution will be filled with defiance and words of rebellion to your little empire, but..." Remove your pride, fool, your daughter's future is at stake. "I'll say whatever you want me to say in support of your mother, in condemning my actions and the actions of all traitors to the empire. Surely you would want that instead of defiance." He looked at each of them, hoping beyond anything that they would accept. "There's not a single soul on these islands who wouldn't believe I could do such a thing. What do you say then?"
  50. 1 point

    Heaven's Light

    Gerald kept silent as Mylorian spoke. Anger was something best left said without interruption. When at last he was finished, Gerald thought about what he had seen, and tried to fit the pieces together. "If I had to guess, it had to have been a merchant vessel of some kind. The ship looked empty, and from what I saw there weren't that many bodies in the water, ruling out a passenger ship. It may narrow the search if you check your records for any boats that were supposed to dock and haven't." With the waters as dangerous as they are now, it may not work as intended, but there was always a chance it would yield fruit. "We should inform the Karradeens of this as well. They will likely be tracking the movements of these pirates, and sharing details could help pinpoint the routes they take." As a warrior, his mind was always working to figure out the best means of defeating an opponent. "I will inform my Lord of this as well, he needs to know his daughter is safe." Mia began to move away, not wanting to hear anymore if what was going on. She already knew what would happen when her father heard of what was going on. He would warn Copperbeard, insert himself into the investigation, and use all the knowledge he gained to help the pirates evade capture. Then they would go on to kill more people, and the cycle would continue all over again. She could feel an anxiety attack coming on, the weight of this knowledge proving too much for her to handle. Darting down the hall, she didn't care if anyone heard her, all she wanted was to be away from this place, to be away from reality, to just find someplace the hide and forget the world.
  • Create New...