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  1. 12 points
    Thank you everyone for the warm welcome! I really am glad to be here and meet all you wonderful people! If anyone is interested in a rp, shoot me a message. Have a good rest of your day/night!
  2. 11 points
    Csl

    Csl's Art Box

    In the midst of a writing block I decided to finish this. Yas queen.
  3. 11 points
  4. 8 points
    notmuch_23

    Time will tell

    Aveline is apparently the first "noble" to enter the room, with a stack of papers in her hand, since Thurgood is off doing something for John Wilder. With purpose she strides across the deteriorating audience seats, up the stairs to the stage, slaps the stack of papers down, and takes her seat. The stack is various drafts of the charter of rights their house would have proposed if they were staying. The ones they've settled on include: the right to life is paramount the right to liberty is just under the right to life the right to property is just under the right to life and liberty (meaning a sapient being's right to liberty supersedes another sapient being's right to have one as property) all rights are sacrosanct until exercise of a right interferes with the rights of another, or are removed through the due process of law the right to express one's own self and opinions, individually and/or collectively, the way one wishes (includes all forms) the right to own, use, and maintain weaponry the right to defend one's self, others and property the rights of those accused of a crime to legal counsel, a fair trial, and within a reasonable time frame the right to petition the government for redress of grievances the right to rebel if government does not uphold and/or defend these rights the right to change one's location of residence within the Veluriyam Empire at one's own will, as one's own resources allow, without needing permission from any level of government the right to conduct commerce privately, in the form one sees fit to (on either side of the transaction), which includes the right to not be forced into a private transaction Aveline has told anybody who will listen (which became increasingly numerous as she did), about her vision for the rights of the common citizen, and that if the new government does not grant or uphold them, to fight until it does.
  5. 8 points
    Tyler

    Le roi est mort, vive la reine

    Abigail had sat or stood politely, respectfully, and stoically throughout the duration of the funeral, but not once did hint of sorrowful emotion cross her features. Indeed, nether Emperor Titus's death, nor the passionate, grief-stricken words of the eulogizers has affected her, for her heart remained cold toward the late emperor, and the display of sadness or loss by others could warm it. Only what she had desired from him, the thing he had taken away and never returned, could have left her feeling anything less than bitter for the late ruler of Veluriyam. This thing that had left her so hardened amidst a sea of tenderness, was her rank and title, the things she had worked her entire life to achieve, only to have them stripped away by an empire whose justice was hardly consistent. While House Uldwar, which collaborated with King Damien to the degree of carrying out the brutal enforcement of his edicts, was permitted to retain rank and title, even being granted new land in Misral, House Karradeen was stripped of status for doing nothing less than trying to survive. Sure, they had sought profit for the goods they secretly smuggled through the blood barrier, but bleeding heart fools do not realize that if one does not make profit, then they are actually losing money. What they did was a service to the people of the islands, as the profits (and even these margins were thin) were reinvested into keeping Karradeen ships on the water, fighting back against pirates, and stockpiling weapons. Abigail was certain, had Taen not invaded when they had, that her father would have used his secret stockpiles to arm a rebellion, and Ursa Madeum would not only have freed itself from the tyrant, but would have honored her house for the heroes they were. Instead, her father's illness delayed any action he intended to take, and then Taen swooped in and deposed of the king, before imposing its own form of justice upon those it determined to be collaborators. Now, Abigail was only recognized as a Countess, when she should be a Duchess, just as her father was a Duke, and her grandfather likewise. So long as this injustice stood, she would never mourn for Titus Demetrius. And even if then, some grudges die hard... Thus it was, that Abigail Karradeen left the funeral as it ended, never intending to take part in the social gathering being held afterward. She had better things to do, such as continuing to build and expand her house's merchant ventures, renovate and improve Gold Harbor, and amass the power needed to make her claim to higher title undeniable. She had fulfilled her obligation by publicly appearing at the funeral, but that obligation had no ended, and it was time to get back to business. Unlike his oldest foreign ally, Joseph Tynes was more apt to show a bit of emotion, if not for himself, then for the others around him. Despite his negative view of superhuman beings, a category within which Titus would obviously be classified, he still had a certain degree of respect and appreciation for him as a man. Titus had brought together many leaders to form the Alliance of Terran Nations, which was already proving itself a more effective provider for the needs of the Terran people than Odin Haze's Empire was. Further, despite the power he wielded, he had seemed quite benevolent and just (at least, for the most part, Abigail's feelings notwithstanding), which was admirable, even if his political power still derived in large part from his superhuman power. Whatever the case, Joseph was more than happy to move into the drawing room, where once again he would be among the regional and national leaders he sought to equal and surpass. It was an opportunity he owed to Titus, fittingly. Many of the faces here were familiar, some were not, but most had yet to make proper acquaintance with the Grand Executor of Norkotia. Most important of these were the remaining members of the Imperial Family, Rozharon and her sons, the latter of whom had only recently appeared to the public, seemingly out of nowhere. While Tynes had seen Roz as the A.N.T. Conference and at last year's Reverie Ball, he had never approached, nor spoken to her. "I believe I will go offer my condolences to the empress." he stated aloud, speaking mainly to his right-hand man that rarely left his side. "A logical course of action." Diric Redbridge nodded, "I too wish to speak with her. " Diric had an extra aspect of curiosity, for he could perceive that Rozharon was a far less emotional person than she tried to publicly convey, which intrigued him. Rarely did he see other sentient beings who were not so beholden to their emotions, as most humans and humanoids were. A being whose true devotion was to logic and dispassion was truly one to be admired, respected... and watched very closely. "Ah, your excellency, Mr. Prime Minster." a voice interrupted the two before they could approach the widowed empress. "Ambassador Kessler." Diric stated flatly, offering him a curt nod, "We did not see you coming in." "My humblest apologies, but I arrived a little late." the ambassador bowed in repentance, "I surely would have attempted to greet you sooner." "Don't worry about it." Joseph dismissed the ambassador's concern, "We were just about to go offer our sympathies to the Imperial Family, if you care to join." "Oh, but of course!" Kessler enthusiastically agreed. Joseph then took the lead again, approaching where Rozharon, Pallas and Lenore stood, briefly glancing about the room as they closed the distance. The chamber was a bit too green for him, he who was content to live in the golden-brown world of Norkotia, but he acknowledged that it was beautiful in its own way. Still, the Taenites were all-too-comfortable to be surrounded by living nature, something he found to be an almost stifling presence. It was not his concern, he supposed, not anytime soon anyway. Instead he lowered his eyes on the empress as they neared. "Your Imperial Majesty," he offered her a shallow nod, then did likewise to the princes, "Your Highnesses, my sympathies for your loss. Forgive my... aloofness when it comes to condolences... but I believe I speak for everyone in the Alliance when I say that his absence will be felt very deeply." After their immediate response, he turned to introduce his associates. "Prime Minister Diric Redbridge, my chief adviser and administrator." the Executor motioned to the stoic Vulkish man, before pivoting toward the ambassador, "And Ambassador John Kessler, our representative in Andelusa. Perhaps you have met?" @Csl
  6. 8 points
    This meme generator app is the bomb
  7. 8 points
    notmuch_23

    Le roi est mort, vive la reine

    Aveline was still crying when the soldiers of Force Majeure carried Titus' casket to its final resting place. Thurgood stood still and stoic: he will need to be a firm rock for Aveline and likely others, and hugged her tight as the elder Mork'Outh made the marker tree sprout. Thurgood Singlance respects Emperor Titus Demetrius deeply; not for what the Emperor did for him, that's not how one earns that much of his respect, but what the Emperor did for Aveline: give her a home. That's something neither of them ever truly had before. In the drawing room, Aveline just ordered a full cup of black espresso while Thurgood got the two some snacks. Both sat down and remain silent for now.
  8. 7 points
    Csl

    Time will tell

    Photo by Siora Photography on Unsplash The Andelusia Opera House had once been the soul of Ursa Madeum, a stage that hosted the queendom’s best talent. Once, it had been the central and most popular performing arts venue in the queendom, hosting operas and classic plays. Not anymore, Rozharon mused. The building had been a shell of its former glory when she’d visited; another victim of the Tyrant King’s rule and his disregard for his kingdom’s history and culture. Most of the opera house had been damaged. It would be used one more time before she left the islands. Apt, that this relic of the old kingdom would be the stage to usher in the new government. As she did with all things abandoned and unused, Rozharon had repurposed the amphitheater into a meeting hall. Crumbling walls had been repaired, the stage salvaged, ruined seats removed. Now, sunlight filtered into the space through windows that stretched from ceiling to floor. If one looked southwards, one could glimpse the gleam of the ocean on the horizon. The nobility would be seated at a table at the center of the space, where the stage had once stood. Anything spoken here would carry across the room. The balconies, which had remained intact, would host those not participating in the discussion. Paper and pens were provided at the table, should the representatives of each house wish to take notes. In addition, a page containing the matters Rozharon intended to discuss was placed before the seat of every noble. Guards were stationed outside the building. Pallas and Lenore walked the balcony, providing enough security for those there. As for the assembly of nobles, well, Rozharon was present. That would be enough. Now, there was little to do but wait for the others to arrive. Rozharon paced, her steps silent. Her sons were chatting amongst themselves, quietly excluding her from the mental conversation. Rozharon eyed a grand piano at the corner of the room - one of the few pieces of furniture that had been mostly undamaged. ᴘʟᴀʏ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ. The Angel-Queen sat herself before the keys. A simple tune thrummed through the old opera house. She waited. @Tyler @notmuch_23 @danzilla3 @Infernal @King @vielle @Aleksei @supernal
  9. 7 points
    danzilla3

    Time will tell

    Grant Knight was one of the last to arrive; owing to the fact that he had gotten underway slightly late. The night before had been a trying one; and his sleep had been fraught with nightmares. Fortunately for him, he had a great deal of experience at moving in a hurry, and he had quickly showered, dressed, and departed from the manor. Now he ascends the stage, glad to see that he has been placed between allies and friends. He had worn his sidearm, an enchanted revolver, on the off chance things ended up going in a violent direction. Knowing Aveline, it seemed likely that she had a few weapons tucked away as well. "Aveline," he deliberately omitted the, 'Lady' part for her benefit, "I see you brought your charter. I'm glad. You make many fair proposals. Hopefully the council will give them consideration." Turning to Varda, he bowed, "Lady Hildebrand. I'm glad to see you well. Silas tells me you to have been getting better acquainted these last few months." The last part was accompanied with a knowing, approving smile. As he settled in, he glanced across the table to see the representatives of House Mythal; and among them his lover Delphine. When he caught her eye, he gave her a sly wink, and a warm grin.
  10. 7 points
    Tyler

    Time will tell

    She had arrived donning her fanciest uniform, one which had been carefully crafted to accent her feminine beauty, while yet still displaying the practical, business-centric nature of her house. It had always been something Abigail Karradeen took seriously, the desire to remain the epitome of a noble lady, yet still carry on the naval, merchant traditions of her forefathers. Had this event been social, she would have worn a dress, as any noble woman ought to, but this was a political meeting, and thus she appeared dressed for business. Her smallsword was sheathed at her left side, her pistol holstered on the other, while her hair was carefully styled and and braided in a way that kept it out of her eyes, but as always, remained ever befitting of a noblewoman. The two had arrived before her were likewise noblewomen, or one was at least. To Abigail, Aveline Singlance's nobility and femininity were both questionable at best, completely illegitimate at worst. But at least for today, she had to be regarded with passable respect, or at least recognition anyway. Varda Hildebrand, on the other hand, was worthy of her attention, thus she was greeted by Abigail first, in the traditional and polite way. The greeting granted toward Aveline, though not impolite, was decidedly less elaborate. A simple head nod and a "Lady Singlance." in acknowledgement of her presence, then Abigail moved on to taking her seat. She was located directly across from the point between the two other women, to her right was to be House Mythal, to her left, the embattled House Uldwar. Neither representative had arrived yet, however. The empress was present however, and playing on a piano in the corner. Abigail was uncertain why though. Maybe Rozharon was merely bored and passing the time until everyone had been assembled, or perhaps she was trying to convince the others of her "humanity" by playing an instrument, thus hoping to convey an appreciation for the arts and a sensibility for music. The Lady Karradeen did not allow either reason to impress her, even if she appreciated the music itself. There was no reason not to at least enjoy that aspect, for music was music, and the motives behind it mattered little. @vielle @notmuch_23
  11. 7 points
    vielle

    Time will tell

    It appears she and her siblings have arrived too early, when before, they have always been late to the party. Perhaps this is a good omen. The Lady Hildebrand steps up to the stage with measured footfalls, gazing about the opera house with awe and nostalgia in equal measure. She recalls coming here as a child, in the golden years of the Queendom’s full glory. All of that is dust now; there is no room left in her heart for mourning or remorse. It is time to usher in a new age for the islands she calls her home, and Varda will be ready with all the strength she bears, no matter how much her heart aches ragged in the cage of her ribs. Without further ado, the Lady takes her seat, examines the agenda laid out with a considering eye. She takes one look up at the balcony towards her siblings, then to the piano where the Empress is coaxing wondrous music from its keys, then finally to the first noble seated around the table. “Miss Aveline,” she greets the Singlance representative with a warm smile; she remembers the plans they’ve yet to fulfill in the shared future they’ve imagined for Ursa Madeum: plans to modernize agriculture for the betterment not only of their houses but of the common people, and everything else that comes after. “Your brother is not here?” @notmuch_23
  12. 7 points
    Folio Sheathe has always been a soft-hearted man. Despite his needlessly large bulk, he is easily swayed by the strings tugging in his chest much to his niece's annoyance. The simple farmer that was once the head of House Sheathe had been weeping since the start of the funeral and until the late emperor's coffin was lowered into its final resting place. The middle-aged man inaudibly murmured his final parting words and wishes for the emperor he had always looked up to. Perhaps this was the end of an era for Ursa Madeum but what he was more concerned at the moment was his niece's incessant tugging at his shirt's sleeves. Folio tore his eyes away from the Emperor's grave and turned to his niece, the horribly-burnt woman sitting uncomfortably on a wheelchair. "Uncle, let's go," her niece pleaded. Despite her appearance and demeanor, Folio knew that her niece was worried about his well-being. He was no longer the young man he once was and even the simple act of mourning is a great burden on his already weakening heart. Nodding his assent, Folio followed his niece into the drawing room. Inside, Folio helped himself to a cup of tea before sitting down. He would have asked a cup of coffee for her niece as well, but he's afraid the poor thing would get mad for being treated as a helpless individual. The aging man silently sipped his tea while waiting for his niece to return.
  13. 7 points
    Malintzin

    Le roi est mort, vive la reine

    Throughout the procession, Raveena stood stoic and watching—only the brilliant gleam of her golden eyes giving signs of the emotion she felt. Death was something she was intimately familiar with—the likes of wish she never wanted upon anyone else—save one. She wore a simple black dress, one that accentuated the gentle bump of her pregnant belly. A sweeping, black chiffon cape draped along her shoulders and would dance ethereally behind her wherever she walked. Will you lead him, sister? Raveena asked wordlessly, her eyes never leaving Titus’ coffin. She could remember their first encounter. She understood his ideals and the cog-like part she played between empires to help bring peace from all sides as an ambassador. At her right side was a tall, ethereal beauty—truly, too beautiful for the mortal eye to behold. Copper skinned and flawless with luxurious dark hair that swept to the floor, Char looked down at the young ruler with haunting eyes that were dark grey, with veins of brilliant ichor and godly might. Wordless, the goddess turned from Raveena and faded away. There was a lingering sense of relief as the goddess of crossroads and peace walked along the road that guided the dead to their final resting place. Char was many things to many religions and many people. She entrusted her sister to allow Titus his peace. The Empress leaned against her son’s shoulder, tired and weary—weary of death. “Remind me,” She murmured to Grant as the procession made their way inside, “To gift these pearls to Her Imperial Majesty.” Clutched in her hands was a velvet lined case with a small token of her heartfelt sincerity towards their loss. She thought back to nearly losing Rowan and shuddered. “And I’d like to visit the gardens again before we go. Your brother likes the fresh air.” It was something pretty to take the edge off the solemn gathering. Death was a difficult moment to process, to recuperate from—this she knew first hand. She thanked the gods her family was alive—if barely. @danzilla3
  14. 6 points
    Aleksei

    Time will tell

    Milorian entered with a laugh that echoed with the tinkling tune dancing across the stage and beyond. The words sweeping his mind were full of chastisements, though the annoyance that peppered them was strained with laughter and playfulness. Primera has taken every opportunity to tease him about his right eye and the tune for the day was her disappointment in not seeing him wear a patch. It had been suggested by various parties, and each suggestion had been shrugged off; he has no need for such unnecessary adornments. He wore his robes of grays, reds, and whites. Behind his left ear is a small bunch of flowers picked by his wife, and the only jewelry he wore is the ring on his left hand to show his marriage. The Mythal thought it best to not arrive in his usual opulence. 'Do you have some strange fascination with pirates?' was his mental reply. Not wanting to appear rude, he did nod towards the earlier arrivals to acknowledge them between his conversation with Primera. His steps forward were rather slow, his lack of sight in his right eye made him a little less graceful and delicate in his ways. The would that sliced his eyebrow in half and trails down to the swell of his cheek is still red with annoyance; the three pale dots on his forehead glowed, signifying the pain he still felt from the attack on Misral. 'No, I have a fascination with the ridiculous.' 'My wife claims me handsome, thank you very much.' 'Well, I would never judge Birdy for her choice in men. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, yes?' Her remark was bubbly. 'And you're blind, so I suppose your opinion should be taken with a grain of salt.' The elf could hear the rustling of finery - bracelets clinking against one another, silk and lace shuffling, painted lips parting and colored lashes batting. Primera had gasped and placed her hand against her chest in mock offense, causing her protector (Delphine) to laugh behind a gloved hand. Milorian had insisted that Primera have some form of protection and offered up a single Seeker who would also benefit from this little get-together. The two have gotten along rather well, something the elf will have to watch for as that's another individual getting comfortable beneath the Grand's extensive reach. "Here you are, ser." Milorian came back to the world of the living just to hear Godric ask for the removal of his chair. Milo reached and pulled it aside where it would not obstruct anyone else. Afterward, he took his seat, gently laying down papers of his own that (so unlike the rest) are minor suggestions and points. House Mythal has done little in comparison to the rest of the Houses, and Milorian is entirely comfortable with their slow and steady progress. Perhaps, in the beginning, he had seen the growth of each house as a rivalry; now he hasn't the time to compare and contrast. He does not come here with the hopes of forcing anyone to do anything, all he truly wants is to ensure that all Houses and their peers have the time to argue, fight and disagree for those are freedoms many do not have.
  15. 6 points
    Infernal

    Time will tell

    Love once swept me off my feet at the sight of you, Ioreth, if only it allowed me the ability to stand back up from the fall... -Godric Uldwar The wheels were turning, propelled by constant pushing from an elderly man, by far the oldest looking member of the group, and yet in years he could have been the youngest. Godric Uldwar was a different man from the days of careless adventure and wanderlust. Now he was bitter, crippled by age and feeling a sense of anger for the world around him. Had he not been deceived by a wretched serving woman, he would still have his youthful body, he would still have a chance at courting his beloved, but alas, things had changed. "It is a pleasure to see you all, Ladies Singlance, Hildebrand and of course, Duchess Karradeen. Hopefully this will be a productive and civilized discussion between us all." At times he still didn't recognize that voice, the voice of a man past sixty years at best, but it was his all right. "If someone could be so kind as to move this chair." Godric asked as he approached the table. "I shan't be needing it, as you can tell." It was possible for him to use his prosthetic arm to move the chair himself, but the rapid aging had made the use of it difficult, and it always tired him greatly whenever he performed extraneous activity. To think, that moving a simple bloody chair could exhausting the once robust and fit adventurer, it was downright madness. It didn't matter, he thought to himself, the woman who did this to him was dead, and while he struggled in his relationship with Evienne Goldcourt, he at least had someone to be with. Sometimes that's all you really needed to be happy, and yet, he just couldn't be without that rebellious elf he used to work with, in what feels like a lifetime ago.
  16. 6 points
    Hey guys, had some ugly stuff come up in my personal life; I'm out of commission until probably Thursday or so. If I can get up a post tomorrow, I will, but no promises. This is just a brief pause, and I'll be back up and running in a jiffy, but my concentration right now is down the tubes.
  17. 6 points
    vielle

    Le roi est mort, vive la reine

    Varda is crying. Jasper wordlessly offers his handkerchief in her direction and just barely resists the urge to sigh. The Lady Hildebrand has certainly proven herself to be the bleeding heart that she is ten times over throughout the course of the funeral, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as the coffin is lowered to the ground, where the late emperor’s body can finally rest for eternity. For all the expectations she falls short of, he can acknowledge that she cries rather prettily, should that be considered a strength, but Jasper cannot understand why she would. Hadn’t they simply replaced the Tyrant King with an autocratic outsider? He sees no reason to mourn the passing of a ruler just as any other before him with quite the passionate abandon. However, he will concede to the similarities that abound: he and Titus both appear to have a healthy appetite for conquest. “Do you reckon we could leave sometime soon?” Kalika murmurs, looking over to her sister-in-law with what only he can determine as amused contempt. He has half a mind to tease her about it, but this is neither the time nor place for such frivolity; it can wait for when they return to the manor. “Not too long now, dearest,” he assures her instead, fingers twining loosely with those of his wife’s own as they watch the somber proceedings unfold before them. “We must pay respects to our Empress before anything else.” His gaze flits impassively over to the small gathering composed of the Imperials and Grand Executor Tynes for a moment, then pivots to study Varda’s pale countenance. “Are you well now, sister?” The Lady Hildebrand sniffles behind the white cloth covering the lower half of her face, nods firmly in reply. “I’m fine. Let us just,” she pauses to discreetly blow her nose; Jasper raises an eyebrow at the sight, “await our turn, lest the Empress feels too crowded with everyone coming to her.”
  18. 6 points
    ticklefarte

    Hey...

    This was recommended so here I go. Hey all Been a while since I role played, so I'm gonna try and make sure I don't screw up and embarrass myself. Wondering how this magic thing works. I saw pyromancy was allowed, but what about lightning magic? And is there anywhere for a loner type character to wander into something? Ha, I don't even know if my questions make sense. Nice to meet ya, and I'm sure I'll figure it out. Gotta decide on who I want to be play so I'm off to explore more
  19. 6 points
    Monoxide

    Valucre humor (and memes) thread

    The agony of finding an unused word.
  20. 6 points
    danzilla3

    Le roi est mort, vive la reine

    Grant had only met the Emperor in person a handful of times, but he had always seemed like a good man. But it was the way Titus had treated his subjects that had truly convinced him of this. The archangel ruled with a firm, but reasonable hand; quick to punish the wicked, and uplift the downtrodden. For the young prince, the most obvious example of this was the liberation of Ursa Madeum. Many years ago, he'd had the opportunity to kill the Tyrant King, but had stayed his hand. It had lifted a weight off his shoulders that someone had finally dealt with the man. When Titus had given them their land in UM, he was eager to go, to try and repay some of the debt he felt he owed; a chance for which he would always be grateful. Next to him, his mother lay her head on his shoulder; and he responded by stepping slightly closer to allow her to lean against him. It was hard to believe that their relationship had been so strained barely a year ago. His choice of lovers at the time had driven a wedge between them; but recent events had brought them closer than ever. After the fall of Hyperion City he had been a fractured shell of himself, but she had helped pick up the pieces and make them into something resembling the man he once was. "Brother," he mused, "I never thought I'd have one of those. Sometimes it feels like I only barely had a father. You're the only mother I remember." @Malintzin
  21. 6 points
    … it’s not like they could tell him no. No one ever told him no. “No,” said Merideth, the receptionist, pushing her purple horn-rimmed glasses up with a pencil eraser. “We don’t take walk-ins.” Merideth had a swath of grey locks piled on her head that it took looking twice at to confirm wasn’t still packed with curlers. Her face tapered down to her chin, both draped with amphibious green skin, and her pencil-thin hands flitted through the papers before her with minds of their own as she looked unaffectedly up at the suspect doctor. While nothing was like, code-red level suspect in times like these, this guy coming in and asking for a job was like green/yellow-level suspect. Her gaze told him she thought he was either Dr. House from ‘House’ suspect or Dr. Nick from ‘Simpsons’ suspect. After a short pause where she leaned her fat chin folds on the pencil eraser and appraised Farkis (yes, she even leaned forward to catch the waist-down over the reception desk), or maybe even a good argument on Farkis’ part, she seemed to reconsider just a little. “We’re very busy,” she said, gesturing to the stuffed sardine can of a waiting room. The chairs were packed and the wallflowers were out; it was a purgatory of musical chairs and the music never ended. The music? Kids crying, men and women moaning over a chorus of squeaky wheels and the aluminum joints on the stretchers clattering by. The cigarette-stained voice croaking through the fat lady’s tiredly painted lips was barely audible above the din. Nearby, a guy mopping the floor paused to look up at the interaction before going back to his puddle next to the fire engine ‘Wet Floor’ sign. “But I can page up to him if you’ll take a seat. Might be a while,” taunted her voice. She looked and sounded like a Selma. Sir, got a funny guy here says he wants to be a doctor. ‘Merideth?’ Yeah? ‘Like, he came to the front desk?’ Yeap. ‘A-alright, have Regius bring him up.’ Merideth pressed a button three down the line on the same receiver. This crystal led to a security room somewhere near the reception room. “Wait 20 minutes and then come on over,” said a text message to the security room’s comm screen. The reason this wasn’t audible was that, often times, messages to the security room had to be private. Twenty minutes later, One of three hulking figures sitting before fizzling screens that watched the perimeter of the hotel as well as the main lobby in, elevators and stairways leading to every floor rose from his chair and exited the security room. The others watched as a line of injured people filed in the front door. There were clandestine attacks and then there were ambushes that took place in the bare daylight; this was somewhere in between. There was most likely, if hopefully for the Mausoleum, a difference between the hobbling order of patients and what would come next that would be hard to miss. Regius rounded a corner to see Farkis. Regius was ‘7, also wearing a janitorial outfit but without any janitorial effects. His black hair looked wet, matted to his slack white face. His hairy knuckles were curled in his back hunched in a similarly dumb manner. His beady eyes focused on Farkis as he slowed before the motion-sensor doors. There was an ‘in’ door and an ‘out’ door, the ‘out’ door dinging open as he slowed before it and the line of distraught patients parted around him like a rock in the stream when he came to stop before them. He jerked his head back the other way so the sycophant would have to walk through the sickies and sick-os to follow. A couple minutes later Farkis was being ushered into Mans’s door past a plaque on the wall that said “Dr. Mans Reyder, Resident Physician; Hospital Administrator." The balls were still bouncing against one another as they had been from the moment Mans pinched and released the first. Speaking of ‘pinching and releasing,’ he was just coming out of the restroom in the short hallway between his office and his hovel when the two walked in. Regius closed the door and stood on the inside, doctors and nurses visible passing by through the rectangular door window’s slatted blinds. Mans wiped his eyes as he sat at his desk, speaking before he even looked at Farkis. The office was grey, and Mans’s was the only swivel chair. The two maroon ones before his desk looked like the kind that might be comfortable for a couple minutes, but in whose cushions would settle into the wireframes after not long and have you squirming for comfort. “So you wanna be a doctor, hey? I must say this is quite odd; normally we don’t take walk-ins. We’re in a weird place though, so I suppose weird things may happen. What makes you think you could help us here? Got any references?” Mans looked either too tired, too busy, too drunk, or maybe all three to mind the oddity of the situation. Regius’ hands were folded before him and he looked unwaveringly down his stupid button nose at Farkis.
  22. 5 points
    Csl

    Soon you'll see

    Photo by @crew on Unsplash The twins stood on each end of the balcony that formed an arc around the stage. A crack danced across the walls between them, occasionally sending dust filtering below. I’ll miss this place, said Lenore. Well, thought Pallas, we could always visit. I don’t want to just visit. Nothing’s set in stone. Mm. The nobility offing themselves all at once is always a possibility- -then we’d have to stay. At opposite sides of the room, the brothers laughed under their breath. @Thotification @Tyler @King @vielle @Infernal @Aleksei
  23. 5 points
    Etched In Stone

    Tsukimi Ceremony

    Today was the day, the Grand opening of the finest Martial Arts school in Genesaris. Hundreds if not thousands gathered around Hinode no Gakko, though only a fraction of that percentage were actually permitted entry into the Dojo gates. Those whom were not granted passage still had the luxury of viewing the opening ceremony via telecommunications and video screenings, installed throughout the nations of Jigoku and Ooxora. Easily the school occupied five hundred persons including staff and personnel, yet the Dynasty’s population was considerably much larger than that and could not house every individual that wished to view such a monumental event. Those who were fortunate watched and sat in the stands outdoors awaiting the entrance of the Moon Students and their Soke Grand Master, Kenshibobu Momoku. While their Shihan had other duties amongst the Okami to fulfill, he did not attend and was pardoned because of his service. The day couldn’t have been any more beautiful with the sun peaking out just a little past noon, shinning bright, blessing the people of Jigoku and it’s Shungenja Swordslayers for the gathering. Vendors of all sorts set up small booths along the perimeter of the dojo grounds, rice cakes, sake, clothes, souvenirs - you name it and it was there. The crowd waited in desperate anticipation, fathers cheered and hooted for their children those who were accepted and appointed as New Moon students. Others cried out of joy in support of them, while a majority of Moon students ascended into higher ranks - graduating into Half Moons, Full Moons and even the amongst the elite ranks of honorary Akatsukizukuyo. All should have been present at this time. Clan leaders and representatives, the Shogun yet primarily, the Emperor and Empress themselves. The People cheered and chanted further, roared and clapped out of excitement. For once, they stood unified as an entire Nation whether differences amongst them had been settled or not.... it was like they put everything aside to support this day. Personal grudges, the hatred for others. While they fought hard and against each other in work, devotions, and dedications for favoritism of the Emperor. Today, truly drew them even closer as brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, friends and family. Differences, quickly went out the window and the event had only unified them more. Nearly an hour passed before Yokai taiko drummers broke the anticipating desperation in commencement of the ceremony. What began in single slow beats, a basic low toned 1-2 rhythm, gradually increased in volume and pace exciting the audience even more as they conversed with their neighbors. From the great entrance doors of the dojo three drummers presented themselves slowly marching into the outdoors side-by-side in formation. Fireworks made from lurid powders designed by no other than the Hiwatori clan set ablaze shortly after, skyrocketing into the air combusting into bright colors and glimmering lights. The people could not believe their own amazements as they watched and spectated from the benches. A lone drummer sounded the horn hanging from a cord around his neck which in turn, signaled students to head towards the training ground from indoors. The first group to been recognized and called to the proving grounds were the New Moons. One by one they walked forth starting with their most honorary first, finishing with the newer prospects at the end of each respective class. Ozu Moromichi had been Team Captain over the New Moons, excelling in his studies at top of his class in only six months from his enrollment. He walked as a natural leader pacing each step between in bare feet, enough confidence impressed even the ground beneath his soles - the people of the Nation would think this teenage boy studied honorably under the teachings of his second cousin the Soke himself. Those would assume this young man held a high esteem and pride for the Okami clan and Dynasty his ichizoku served was falsely claimed. Honestly, he only cared about exceeding his father’s strength that one day he’d be able to kill the scum of a man. His iridescent clear blue eyes scanned over every possible face present in search of his father. While this was suppose to be a time of celebration and happiness, he didn’t feel as so. His internal systems raged to boiling, oh he would have challenged his father to a death battle here and now, in front of all these people to display he was the only true heir of the Satsujinken style. At the cost of his own life would he risk it. The Shihan Lord Shiroyasha never failed him, his only child in fact, he always failed him; failing to encourage his studies with his cousin Soke Kenshinobu. Though he didn’t seek out any appraisal from the man, as he glanced further at the many faces from Jigoku he realized in his own fruition how much consideration they took of his service, more than gratefully. The sixteen year old Shugenja stopped abruptly in the center of the training ground, one hand spread its fingers flatly upwards while the other pressed against the first in a closed fist. Standing completely erect with only the heels from his feet touching, Ozu commenced a deep bow and pushed with him forth his hands outwardly towards the crowded audience. While the other New Moons were making way to the outdoors Ozu took this time to show off one of his fancied tricks, not that he was showboating. Rather, he was displaying just what exactly the school itself had to offer and this was a good time to release some of his stresses from he day in general. He raised a foot straight to the air swiftly, to the sky his entire leg lifted a total 180 degrees. With that, his back arched just enough to maintain his grounding while he pushed forth and upwardly on the planted foot. Applying a small amount of Yoki to the soles of his feet, his circulatory system charging just enough throughout his 361 tenketsu before releasing in a exhibition of slight prowess. Ozu went airborne performing a backwards somersault as his leading foot ignited into a burst of searing crimson flames. The crowd did not believe their eyes in witnessing this yet, as he went flipping an entire 360 degrees they had no choice, but to except the fact this young man executed a flaming reverse somersault kick almost flawlessly. In his extreme confidence, he lifted the following leg from the rear as it too bursted into crimson flames before he landed back on both legs in the position prior to his trajectory. Ozu completed another bow in the same manner as the crowd uplifted in roar and utter satisfaction. This was Ozu Moromichi, the future of Hinode no Gakko if he only desired to be so. Yet, the death of his father by his own hands was most desirable than heading the Dojo as Shihan or leading the Okami clan as warlord. They would remember this day, the people and they would remember his face, the son of the White Devil Shiroyasha. @Twitterpated@The Rabbit Emperor@Hani@ShogiJesus @Aleksei @vielle
  24. 5 points
    Aleksei

    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?
  25. 5 points
    King

    Time will tell

    “I don’t see why you need me here.” “Because you’re my brother, and more importantly, I want you here.” “There are more pressing matters that need my attention.” “More pressing than the future of our house? No, I thought not.” “I’ll not be able to contribute anything from the viewing.” “You don’t need to. This is my forte, Andross.” “We are agreed. So again, why am I here?” “To mingle. I need people to know who you are for when I marry you off.” “What?” Teasing Andross had long-since been a favored pastime of the elder twin, but also a manner of diluting conversations he deemed too personal, too intimate. It would be unfitting for Alexandros to tell his younger twin that he felt vulnerable without him, and that if—by some unholy curse—the worst came to pass and violence erupted in the halls, there wasn’t another soul in the world he’d rather have there to defend him. Alexandros was far from helpless by any means, but years of study in the arts, philosophy, commerce, and political doctrine came at the expense of martial prowess. He was to be a general, a tactician, and his brother the warrior – he the wielder, and Andross the sword. And such a truth, engraved into them since birth, showed in their appearance. Whereas his brother wore his hair longer, free at the base but tailed at the top, Alexandros kept his white hair short, neatly cropped and tamed. He was several fingers taller than most men, and though less muscular than his brother, still boasted a generously athletic physique that his formal military attire, a soft blue in color and trimmed with silver, complemented quite well. His bronze face was freshly shaven, his jawline sharp, lips full, nose a slender slope, and his hazel eyes held in their gaze both a nobleman’s curiosity and knowing. In his right hand he carried a single folder, filled with documents no doubt similar to those the other representatives have brought. At his hip hung a saber, its handguard gilded and encrusted with old Rosinderian jewels that still held the shimmer and gleam of the old homeland. There was a notably inquisitive air about him as he entered the room, surveying the other attendees. Alexandros knew none of them by face, what with House Kholin’s isolationist practices, but he caught a name here and there as they were flung in cursory introductions, and quickly learned who was who. Alexandros took his seat quietly near the Lady Varda, uninterested—at least for the moment—in any small talk the other nobles might take comfort in. Instead, his eyes drifted off to the piano, where Rozharon, the “angel-queen,” brought to life a tune the elder twin had never heard before, but appreciated. The motive for its birth mattered little in the face of its beauty.
  26. 5 points
    Strangeland

    Hi there

    Just been reading the getting started stuff, looking forward to trying this out. Hopefully I can get the ropes pretty easily with some of my past RP expirences. I look forward to seeing some of you in the Tavern, and learning from several mistakes I'm probably about to make.
  27. 5 points
    Aleksei

    Le roi est mort, vive la reine

    Garden "Is it odd to you, the ways of humans?" Primera asked, taking a seat next to the elf who had chosen to enjoy the gardens in all their splendor, instead of mingling with the rest of the mourners. It made sense; he was sure to feel somewhat awkward in offering condolences of any kind considering that death is not seen as a pang of sadness to the elves. "Just as odd as our ways to them, I suppose," came his quiet response. The scars of Misral made the elf uneasy being around so many people with different emotions; he felt as if their tears and heartfelt words were strangling him, while the disdain of some and uncertainty and coldness of others were remarkably... uncomfortable. He would rather be away from all this, preferably home with Birdy who is still in the throes of mourning the loss of House Tankred. So much has happened within a handful of days, the elf was concerned about how many will take advantage of the turmoil to better their position in Ursa Madeum. The very idea of it all made him weary and annoyed, adding another layer to his reasoning to stay away until he felt it appropriate to approach the Empress. Sensing his unease, Primera leans close, causing their shoulders to nuzzle together. There are many things the gentleman must be struggling with, and she has not the words or gestures to show understanding. So unlike him, she has the power to claim what she wants and forever remain comfortably above her people. "Your eyesight?" she asks, showing how one fumbles with immense grace. "Gone - somewhat. The right eye is useless, and the left is slowly deteriorating, but I could be dead, so I suppose I can't complain." "And I am most thankful you are still here with us. I have only a few friends in life, and if you were to perish, I would have none." He chuckled, the markings on his skin shimmering with his movements. "I'd hate to leave you lonely." "I'm sure you'd find a way to haunt me," she says with a laugh. "Or you, me. You've shown me that I am not allowed a moments respite without you yelling in my ear." "If your ears weren't so large Milorian, you could stifle me out. You don't have that long, luxurious hair of yours to hide them anymore." Her comment made the elf push her off the bench they had gotten comfortable on. In a cloud of finery, the Grand Kommadant was forced to be a laughing pile of silks and jewelry.
  28. 5 points
    Csl

    Time will tell [UM noble house meeting]

    Things to know This meeting will determine (IC and OOC) the government of Ursa Madeum after the Veluriyam Empire leaves. There will also be some minor concerns brought up (oathsworn, misral incident, should airships be a thing) I'll mostly by facilitating the meeting (both IC and OOC), but it's up to your characters IC to decide the future of Ursa Madeum~ Major and Minor nobility is invited, will be welcome to voice their views, and will be allowed to vote. One representative per house. Senaria, now regarded as an embassy of Hyperion, and Singlance (to be reassigned outside Ursa Madeum) will be participating, but not as noble houses Spectator characters who are not the heads of the noble houses are welcome. If there are enough spectators who want to roleplay sipping tea and reacting to what's being discussed, we're having a thread running parallel to the main meeting thread. Thread mechanics Round-based, no posting order. I'll post for Roz at the beginning of each round and may have her respond within rounds when needed. Otherwise, as long as you don't post twice in a row or are actively spamming replies, reply whenever. One round for arrivals/introductions. One round for minor concerns/announcements. No set number of rounds for the remainder of the meeting, which will be about the new UM government. Same as with the funeral thread, attempts to break the peace or cause a scene will have IC consequences. I went ahead and made an OOC but I'll need to confirm those who are attending. Thread's going up as soon as I write the first post. Independence is near :) Attendees Abigail Karradeen Thurgood Singlance Grant Knight Godric Uldwar Alexandros Kholin Varda Hildebrand Miloran Mythal Ampelos Dali Spectators Holly Sheathe Joseph Tynes Andross Kholin Jasper Hildebrand Merel Hildebrand Illyana Uldwar Delphine Mythal Primera Topics of discussion Eruption of Mount Egon House Tankred Damages; state of Misral Mia Uldwar Capture of Oscar Uldwar; Leadership of Uldwar The Oathsworn Ursa Madeum Independence Assembly thread: Spectators thread:
  29. 5 points
    supernal

    Time will tell

    It wasn't just a practical decision, or else she'd have gotten rid of the stage and moved everyone within speaking distance. In keeping the stage and placing the speakers atop it, Rozharon proves herself a fan of the dramatic. As that awesome fool who magicians worship might say, it appears comedy transcends the human; tis divine. The thoughts amused him, as they must. To a vulgar audience the extended metaphor and cultural references were vague shadows, but to a sophisticated mind his wit could be described as nothing short of effulgent. And was his not such a mind? So then, he was helpless but to be amused. When he sat, after bowing to Hildebrand and Mythal (accompanied by verbal recognition to account for the Lord's blindness), nodding to Karradeen and Uldwar, and smiling politely at Singlance, it was with a smile curling the ends of his lips. Ampelos undoes the clasp of his cloak. Removes his gloves, folding them and laying them flat on the table beside him. He leaves the supplied writing utensils alone and rests an envelope with a slim stack of papers squarely before him, not quite as thin as Milorian's but a mere adolescent compared to Singlance's fully matured ream. He spares a passing glance about him, taking individual note of the gathered audience, nodding to the various Dali members claiming their seat among the others, representatives for each of the various branches, including his own. Expertise promised depth but not breadth, so Dali baked the latter into the former by diversifying their panel; what a Moontraveler might glean from a sentence could differ wildly from a Titansinger, and each remain as valuable as the other. He is delighted to see that others are armed, as he was. A promise of security was no less and no more than just that, and while Rozharon was impressive and her children must equally be so, Merida was quietly spirited away right under their noses. These beings, he knew, had limits, and Ampelos refused to be one of Veluriyam's rounding errors. The papers were mostly legal documents. Sanitized memorandums and transactional documents, both repudiation and nonrepudiation disclaimers, non-disclosure agreements, things of that nature. The agenda for what Ampelos wished to convey on behalf of Dali was in a bulleted list and kept entirely in his head. Item one towered over the others and read simply: no more kings. "Music and no drink? What a somber affair this must be."
  30. 5 points
    Infernal

    Soon you'll see

    Life was a strange thing, one that Illyana had difficulty reconciling at times. Daily she prayed to Gaia for guidance, entrusting her with her problems, knowing that she had the power to make them right, even if she didn't know it yet. Even then, she felt scared about what was to happen, and hoped that today would not be a day of ill fortune. Illyana stood at one of the balconies, watching as her brother made his way to the table. She wanted to be there with him, to support him now as he went into a group of politicians, who were sure to prey on his insecurities and weaknesses to get what they wanted. If she were down there, she could protect them, but the rules were clear, and so she must stay up here in this place, watching helplessly. This was to be Godric's first real foray into the political stage, so it was bound to be a little unnerving for him. Looking over she noticed the Hildebrands, looking to them for only a moment before watching the talks once again. It was hard to look at anyone in the face, after the horrible events in Misral, it felt like they were a pariah all over again. Gaia knows how much more difficult it was going to make her mission in trying to help people when they couldn't even trust her. Mia of course was nowhere to be found. She was likely still recovering in the Free Marches, with Illyana unsure as to whether or not she had heard the news. Godric's first order as the new Patriarch was banishing Mia from the city, and making a decree that she be scourged and thrown back into the sea if found within its limits. The news made the older sister cry that night, but she could do nothing about it, as the people put forth all of their support to him and he was already proving more than competent as a leader in terms of the reconstruction efforts. Where was the black and white in this situation? What is she to think of all of this? "Gaia please help me..." She whispered.
  31. 5 points
    Malintzin

    Le roi est mort, vive la reine

    “Bite your tongue, Grant Knight.” Raveena scorned quietly. It was a knee-jerk reaction to defend her catatonic partner—who all but gave his life and his humanity to protect them from a god’s wrath. Only then did she accept her true nature as a Sefirot. Only then did things change. Rowan was not designed to be a father—only a weapon. He knew his work, and that was virtually all he knew. There are no poets in the bitter business. “We wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for your father. I will keep looking until I find—something.” She hesitated. What would she find? A magic bean? A mystical lamp that will grant her the wish to awaken him? A spell for true love’s kiss? These fairy tale things made her cross. It took time and patience—the sort only a goddess could muster. “I am your mother,” She conceded with a wry chuckle, “Your only mother, goddess help you.” She gently, affectionately patted his shoulder, threading an arm through the bend of his elbow as he escorted her. She felt out of touch with her nature as an Empath, though her palms hummed delightfully at the nourishing nature of the Sun Pearls she selected. The token was meant to be a thoughtful one, though—Empath she was—she was no Seer or Soothsayer. There was no telling what the Imperial family truly felt. “When the period of mourning is over, we must call to council at once. There is much to discuss in the wake of this tragedy—both home and abroad.” Thraece was a vital component to fulfill her duties, one she delegated to her eldest. The youngest she would bear would know a burden far greater. It was when this moment crossed her mind that she paused briefly, her steps slowed. She had become aware and glittering eyes naturally fell on Rozharon. The room was filled with her—consumed by her, even. Had Raveena always been this unaware of Rozharon? She felt as though she was seeing the woman for the first time—truly Seeing, as Rozharon Saw. The second seemed to stretch—a strange and empty gap of wonder and curiosity that ended as abruptly as it began. Still, she knew nothing. But she wondered—she began to weave @danzilla3
  32. 5 points
    notmuch_23

    Le roi est mort, vive la reine

    Vivian and Nadia stayed in their seats while the funeral went on, knowing that very few would be watching where they were walking, and frankly, they've suffered enough footwear hits to their midsections. Now that it's over, they plod their way into the drawing room where Lenore (they can smell the difference between Pallas and Lenore) is talking to Thurgood and Aveline, so they just hop up to the last empty chairs at the table. @Csl
  33. 5 points
    Twitterpated

    Le roi est mort, vive la reine

    Dressed in Imperial Robes much more formal and complex than his last appearance in the region. This was not for his own personal image, not any more than usual. No, this was a sign of his respect for the fallen Emperor. While their acquaintance was brief, and their history all too short, he swiftly grew intrigued by the Emperor Titus. To the point that he was in the works of finding more time to be in his company so that Koji might learn a thing or two from him. Alas, tragedy struck, and Titus found his premature departure from this life. While he didn't necessarily feel sorrow or grief over the loss, he imagined that the late Emperor's family may or may not be having a rough time. Once he managed to pay his proper respects, he'd be certain to deliver his condolences to the Empress and her children himself. As the eulogies began, Koji stood still, his face an unchanging blank slate of emotion. He didn't even blink his humanoid eye lids, just the occasional blink of his Draconic ones to keep the eyes moist. Standing in his immediate company were a trio currently playing escort for the Heika himself. A step back, a couple feet away to each respective flank stood a Tengu Knight, and centered beyond them was an imposing figure. an abomination known as a Tatsuo. He listened the whole while until the day progressed forth, ushering the visitors in for a moment to show respect to the family, and to break bread with them on what was undoubtedly one the hardest times they'd even be confronted with. When everyone else moved on, Koji took his time to approach the grave in silent. There he stood for several minutes starring down. Whether he simply observed and accepted this fate or whether he were doing something like praying over the deceased was unclear. Regardless, the open fist of his Draconic limb aimed its palm at the grave, and for a brief moment, Koji could be seen talking to the grave or himself, his eyes closed. Once he'd finished paying his respects to the deceased directly, Koji's hands inserted into each opposing sleeve. He stood erect, ultimately turning and walking at his leisure to join the others in the reception. There were a few familiar faces, though most of them were new, not having been around for the historical ANT meeting that took place not so long ago. He saw people he wanted to converse with, some he felt he may end up conversing with without his direct interest even; though he wasn't going to encourage words with anyone else prior to speaking with the Empress herself. His condolences afforded to her and their children was an utmost priority. "Standby. Do not wander off, though your proximity is unnecessary as is." As ordered, they silently afforded him some distance without completely abandoning him. Though the human knights questioned themselves briefly on what if's, one had to recall that just because they didn't see them didn't mean there weren't Shinobi and Kunoichi lurking in wait for the Emperor's need of them. Then of course the fact that the Emperor had yet to prove he ever needed the protection given to him in the first place. The Patriarch of the Tatsuo himself, the were no doubts the Heika was capable in it's mind. Somewhere back about the Horizon could be seen a rather large, ominous figure. A dragon of some undead quality, it's life preserved from a lurid purple glowing from between it's exposed ribs at it's core. Though familiar could tell when they saw Black Exalta and effect, other's perhaps became weary of the undead beast. Hopefully it wasn't mistaken as a beast of Yh'mi that somehow made it this far, regardless, he hoped even more none would trifle with it as it was currently being rather docile. Failing to even appear as a threat beyond it's large size. It was not difficult to spot the Empress out of the crowd. She harbored two familiar to herself, three counting the one he remembered from the ANT meeting. The human, Tynes. He continued to watch as he approached weary of other's that may try to beat him to the punch of seeking the Empress. His three guards fancied themselves a table that was about center of the room in which they'd keep watch over the Chijono Heika. Moving with silence and fluid grace, where the robes met the ground he seemed to be preternaturally gliding across the floor. Arriving while the group of them continued to converse, he kept himself close, yet out of their temporary inner circle. Likewise he steeled his tongue as to not interrupt. After the last time Koji was careful not to embarrass himself. Even if he was the only one that caught it. @Csl @Tyler
  34. 5 points
    The elder fox lifted her chin, practically looking down her nose at the dragonkin as he reminded her of her greatest folly. It took every ounce of effort to fight the sneer that begged to be expressed, but she remained controlled—her face indifferent as she kept her lips sealed to listen to the child emperor. A child he was. Foolish to think that her daughter was the only culprit. Koji was just as much a villain as her daughter had been, if not more so, in the events of that day. He could be charged with capital murder—premeditated since the moment that Akako had punished them. He gave orders on how she was to take her own life. Akako remembered so vividly what he had done, and despite his best efforts, she would not be manipulated into fooling herself that he wasn't just as guilty as her progeny had been. No, he hadn't killed her with his own hands, but he might as well have. He ordered the killing blow—instructed her to mutilate herself until she was unrecognizable. Was he delusional, she wondered. Did he honestly forget that Kimi did little more than retrieving the orb? The power one could hold with that precious item; it was a terrifying thing. He silenced her inner musings by suggesting another offender. Golden eyes narrowed on the halfling as he spoke, his manipulation knowing no bounds. Akako didn't appreciate his presumptuous tone as he painted Red to be less than innocent. While the daiyokai never wanted to consider it, Koji was forcing her to now. Red was distracted by a particular Devil, even after their tryst when the kitsune had to wrap her in warmth and affection to soothe the emotional wounds that Roen left. That distraction was how her orb had been taken. The psion was sloppy; certainly not fit to rule. That much was abundantly clear. Koji planted the seeds of doubt and resentment in the daiyokai's mind; however, she merely frowned as he said he forgave her. It lit a fire in her—those offensive words. He should be on his knees, begging her for mercy after what he had done, yet he was posturing before her, her murderer. It was an insult of epic proportions, but Akako couldn't react now, not during her festival. For the sake of appearances, she needed to reign in the wrath that was simmering just beneath the surface. He was mad, perhaps more so than her daughter. It was abundantly clear that he was a threat to the empire, one that would need to be fixed sooner than later. War. The vixen didn't utter a word, instead, her lips parted and she sucked in a breath, the black vapor funneling back into her body as the barrier of yoki withdrew into her lithe form. Even with her eyes on Koji, Akako could feel the Emperor's presence within her estate which afforded her with the barest hint of relief, though her guard remained up. Allies that she trusted surrounded them, the yokai in her service were all vigilantly watching. Koji was grossly outnumbered and outmatched in this current setting, though for how much longer? Despite all of this, he was still a threat as was chaos which he was the embodiment of. "You have said your piece. You may take your leave." The demoness didn't wish for the dragonkin and his entourage to be in her presence any longer, much less the presence of her people given the miasma he seemed to seep. In addition, she had many guests that wished to speak to her and she sorely wanted this moment to end. She wanted to forget the fact that Red might have been the reason that she was killed in the first place. @Twitterpated @dvsn @Aleksei @Etched In Stone @Kalmuli @Dreamer @Voldemort @Damnatus @Tenkai Matsumoto @The Hummingbird @King
  35. 5 points
    Praetorian

    Custom title raffle 22

    I can confidently say that the most deserving won. 😐 just kidding. But I would like to thank my mom and dad. Without them birthing me, I'd never be here today to accept this prestigious honor.
  36. 5 points
    supernal

    Custom title raffle 22

    The winner is @Praetorian! PM me for your title everyone else I’ll see you in the next raffle especially vielle
  37. 5 points
    vielle

    Hanami - Flower Festival [OPEN]

    yanaihara kōharu "Lady Kōharu. Do you thirst? Want eat?" The woman in question looks over at Ruiser in surprise, having thought he would still be ensnared in the presence of the cabbage and the cat lady. “Perhaps we could look for some éclairs and sake to enjoy later on,” she muses, turning her gaze towards the plethora of stores and stalls around them, when Kinaro answers her query and forces her attention back to him. At the mention of Renjiro, the Lady tilts her head, her lips curling as if unable to stop herself from smiling. It’s been many a year since she’s heard of her dear friend’s moniker, and she’d be lying if she’d said that the thought of him seeking out a master of war and leading him into the fold of the Kōzui does not bring comfort to the cold caverns of her heart’s cage. “And that, sensei, brings no small measure of joy to me. I’m glad to hear of it; thank you.” "If you don't mind would it be alright if I accompany you two?" Kōharu glances at her companion, then back to Kinaro, smiling warmly. “That would be quite alright. Let us walk?” The day continues on in revelry, and by the time the company has toured its way through the city streets and up to the regent’s estate, the sky is a kaleidoscope of pastel colors, a most dazzling sight to behold. As a high-ranking government official, Kōharu procures tickets for the whole lot of them to be able to enter, and so they stroll around the expansive gardens, taking time to watch the performances and sample the opulent supply of food and beverages all around the area. She has it in mind to buy a lantern later on and participate in the floating lanterns by the portside. However, there is still that primary matter at hand. “We need only pay our respects to the Lady of Port Caelum, and then we may be left to our own devices,” Kōharu tells Ruiser as they walk side by side amidst the cheering audience. “Have you the gift we prepared for her?” @supernal @SteamWarden
  38. 5 points
    ticklefarte

    Tavern of Legend Season 3

    Please kill me. Don't you lay a hand on this body. End it. I need you to end this. He's dangerous and I'm losing this battle. This is the only way. I can't believe you think so lowly of me. I believed we were friends. Friends kill for each other, don't they? SOMEONE KILL ME. FOR YOUR OWN PRESERVATION! I suppose I will show them true devastation. For you, my friend. The wanderer pushed back a well of emotion, grimacing at the harsh memory. A scowl carved its way across his face and he welcomed it as an old friend as he trudged forward. The sound of metal scratching stone filled the path as dragged his spear after him with the tip carving a line through the ground. Newly sharpened, but he didn't care. Indeed, he doubted anyone cared. He was walking through an area that had long forgone giving a damn and oh so perfect for one such as him. A tired traveler in a tired land. Fitting. It was cold. He was cold. HIs cloak did its job, but against the chilled winds it was fighting a losing battle. He looked to the sun, cursing its inefficiency. All of that flame, and it was still freezing down here. I should be dead. The thought flashed through his head and was quickly gone, but not before he flinched. If only. He tightened his grip on the shaft of the spear and looked back down the path he was following. What...? It stood before him with no right to be there. He hadn't seen it but there it was. His stomach rumbled in anticipation, and he found himself eager to enter. In a swift motion, his wrist twisted and the spear spun in response, the butt of the staff hitting the ground with a thunk as the spearhead shone in the sunlight above his head. The traveler walked toward the tavern with caution, taking in its edifice slowly. So small but... He pushed open the doors without preamble, and a gust of air blew his hood down, revealing the face of a man in his late twenties and the weary lines of a man with a story. He scratched at his stubble, grey eyes taking in the scene before him. It was far too big for its outward appearance. And so full of denizens? How? How long had he been walking? Was this what he thought it was? It was supposed to be a story. False in creation, but true in purpose. To inspire children and nothing more. But here it was. His spear was taken from him and he looked at the chip that had taken its spot. Fascinating. The man approached the bar, visibly dumbfounded. He caught a scent of food and nearly collapsed at the counter. "I'll eat anything," he said to the bartender. "My name is Hain."
  39. 5 points
    Wade

    Misral on Fire

    Obsidian shattered like brittle glass all around, warped by the atmosphere’s sudden change in pressure, sending micro-tears through the earth that nearly knocked Crowley off his feet. The darkness silently writhed about his body, rooting itself deep into the volcano’s crust. He waited for the worst to pass, anchored but still feeling the shockwave reverberate up to his teeth. “My turn?” Orenmir slipped forward, a long shadow made flesh. Even through the ringing in his ears, Crowley heard its voice as clearly as his own thoughts. “No, I don’t think so,” he said. The shadow paused mid-stride. A ripple of annoyance rolled through it, and it cocked a sideways glance in his direction. Crowley pointed to the elemental with his chin. The glow of its form was already cooling to a dull grey. Smoke bled from its cracked veins, coalescing with the fresh ozone left over from the lightning strike. “It’s already dead,” he predicted, taking a tentative step down the incline. “Or it will be soon enough. Shirin and her new... friend can take care of it.” Orenmir watched him move further downslope, a lone figure standing at the top of the hill. Then it was gone, a flicker in the wind, before reappearing at his side like a dark mirror. They marched together towards the lava’s edge, gathering shadows as they went, molding them into perfect copies of themselves until they surrounded the Uldwar girl five to one. Crowley eyed her for a heartbeat. Marrow sat on the ground right beside her feet. The Oathblade hadn’t disappeared, like it should have, when it had fallen from her hands. “She’s not bonded,” one of the shadows remarked. “Then it doesn’t belong her,” Crowley replied. A black tendril swept the Oathblade from the ground and dropped it in his waiting hand. “Just like Sunscar doesn’t belong to you over there. Hello, little miss.” He turned his attention to another woman, the one with scars poking out from underneath her clothing, who wielded Sunscar in an ill-fitting hand that seemed too tightly wound around its hilt. It’s burning her, Crowley thought, leaving his wraiths behind with a languid step forward. He stopped a few paces away, the expression on his face carefully neutral. “Give me the blade,” he said.
  40. 5 points
    supernal

    Time will tell [UM noble house meeting]

    Only a minority of cities signed up for it and regulation isn’t the same thing as destruction I recommend reading glasses mr. Zilla you’re slipping all over the place (that almost corrected to placenta)
  41. 5 points
    vielle

    Misral on Fire

    Do not be afraid, says the gentle voice in her ears, a hint of amusement peeking through the sun-warmed syllables. I am here. You need only hold on to me now, until the time comes when you may wield me without fear. Shirin’s grasp of the sword hilt tightens, fingers stark pale against the backdrop of charred rock and lava flows. She watches as lightning sparks bright across her companion’s body, a living god on earth as the man moves forward to heave his weapon over his head and hurls an electrified wave that jolts across the expanse, mowing down a path to the elemental. It is her turn now, in this game of chess, and hesitation keeps her frozen where she stands. I chose you, the Oathblade reminds her: always, always patient even when she does not deserve it. You are worthy. Mount Egon rumbles loud and furious beneath her feet; the elemental screams for blood and destruction and devastation. In the midst of the cacophony, Shirin realizes: this, here, is where she is strongest. Plenty of fodder for an attack that could shake the foundations of the volcano below. Pointing Himei in the direction of the elemental looming giant over them, she closes her eyes, attunes to her ears and the capacity to control all that which she hears. A deep humming sound begins to rise above the din of the chaos. Shirin grapples with the sounds around her, forces them to warp into a sharpened, concentrated point at the brink of imminent and violent release. Come now, my child. Show me what we can do together. Shirin opens her eyes, and she lets go. The sonic spear takes flight, piercing through the air at dizzying speed, and strikes the elemental, its tense shape exploding outward, threatening to sweep any unsuspecting bystander off their feet and into the air with great force. After the lightning comes the thunder, and the world trembles for it. @King
  42. 5 points
    notmuch_23

    Misral on Fire

    Thurgood, Aveline, Vivian, and Nadia just keep cuttung down trees and digging undergrowth ahead of the fires, when a stampede of bugbears rumbles through. One bigger male asks them : "what ya doun 'ere?" "Starvin' the fuckin' fire," Thurgood responds, "ain-t gonna keep goin' if it ain't got shit to burn!" With that he makes the back cut on the tree he already notched, and watches it fall away from the fire's direction, then sprints to the next tree and starts notching it, not caring what the bugbear does next: he's got a wildfire to contain.
  43. 5 points
    Csl

    Misral on Fire

    pallas Hoofbeats. Familiar voices. Pallas swept his wings forward, breaking his momentum. Below. A man and a boy on horseback, trailed by a line of knights. His eyes landed on the sigils. Hildebrand. The order of the orchid. Pallas folded a wing, swooping down. In the distance, the ground shuddered beneath an elf's fist. The prince spared a glance towards Tankred, saw the familiar silhouette of an elf. Milorian Mythal. Digging through the rubble. Another stab of guilt. He landed in Iyalon's path. "Lord Protector. Pluto" Pallas was vaguely aware his voice was hoarse. He stole a wisp of wildlight from a nearby tree, took a deep breath, then spoke again. "Shirin's here too, I assume?" The more oathsworn, the quicker the rock thing goes down. He looked in the direction of the volcano. Squinted. A blotch of shadow writhed against the blinding gold of the plumes. Oh good. Crowley's here. He was tired. His thoughts were wandering. Pallas pulled his thoughts together, facing the knights. "Don't waste your time searching for survivors from Tankred. There aren't any life signatures, not in the rubble, at least. I think you'd be more use helping the-" he gestured vaguely, "-ah, bugbears. Keep the fire from spreading." The sky rumbled. Silver streaked towards gold as a lightning-wreathed figure leaped into the air. For a moment, hope skipped a beat in their hearts. Teresa? Pallas curled one hand around his right eye, holding his left hand palm-up, wrists together. With a thought, he twisted light, magnifying the scene in the distance. Mia Uldwar. One of the Kholins. A girl - Shirin. Crowley. An oathblade in the hands of each. He let his hands drop. "I think this'll be over soon," Pallas muttered. Four Oathblade wielders! "Let's just get as many as we can to safety." Tentatively, he reached out towards a burning tree, then clenched his fist. A wave of magic leapt from its branches, melting into the ground, and the tree crumbled into dust. "That's one way to make a fire line," Pallas sighed. He spread his wings. "Lead the way, Sir Iyalon. I'll clear a path for your men." lenore Four Oathblades? Lenore landed on the outer wall of Port Mars. He took a moment to survey the scene below him: crowds clogging the street in their rush. Disorganized. Chaotic. The prince took a deep breath, gathering the magic within himself, boosting his strength. When he exhaled, two dozen duplicates of himself flashed into existence. Lenore sent the illusions down into the stampede. They would do their best to calm the crowd, redirect the mad rush into a more organized evacuation. The illusions began selecting reliable people, forwarding instructions on handling the crowd. Cover your noses. Carry the children. Head towards the harbor. No pushing and shoving. Suddenly, a flying soldier. House Sheathe. She asked a question. His answer was curt. "Get the people away from the city walls. Get them to the harbor." Carefully, Lenore adjusted his footing on the wall, righting himself with his wings. He turned to face the volcano, squinting at the slowly-approaching tide of lava. Well, Pallas, what now? He considered the nature of the eruption. An ash cloud exploded from the crater, ejecting tons of rock. That had been dealt with. The eruption wasn't natural (You don't say.) The lava was flowing steadily down the slope, yet only over the southern (South-eastern. South-easyt-eastern.) lip of the caldera. Where molten rock brushed against greenery, fires were raging,. Unless stopped, the flow would continue to move downhill, destroying Port Mars and the surrounding seaside towns. I'm cutting the fire off up North-east, near the Tankred estate. Pallas' voice bled through his head. The other mining towns here are safe. Lenore summoned Guzon. I'll redirect most of the flow to the oceans. He took to the air. The clouds were thick with ash that rained down like black snow. Lenore pulled his shirt collar up, narrowing his eyes as he tore through the smoke. A few kilometers north of Port Mars, Lenore folded his wings, diving low. He slammed the Oathblade into the ground. A massive crack rent the rock. Lenore waited, breathless, as the crevasse widened, rumbling. Slowly, the crack snaked westward into the sea. The ground on the other side of the crack shuddered, then sank downward. Guzon's voice filtered into his mind. The lava and any following pyroclastic flows will fall along the depression I created. Is this satisfactory, master Lenore? Lenore coughed out a lungful of ash before answering. "Yes. I think that's enough."
  44. 4 points
    Mickey Flash

    Strong Enough to Pass the Test?

    Welcome one and all to the annual Assassin's Guild tryouts! This year the tryouts will be hosted in the original birthplace of the Assassin's Guild, Kinumo! There will be tests of strength, stamina, speed, stealth, and wit as the candidates struggle for top ranking in this event. Many of the events can be witnessed by those interested in coming to watch the show, as the potentials prove their worth in public trials. As everyone knows, it is a rare opportunity to become one of the elite members of the most dangerous Assassin's Guilds in Seinaru Forven. Tourists can enjoy our famous local tavern, Snowy's Pub, where many different drinks and food are peppered with our rare and delicious herbs acquired from the top of the mountain. There will be Pauline's Market, where you can also shop for magical trinkets and items for souvenirs. At the end of the event a village wide celebration for those who have triumphed, where music, games, and vendors will be there to make all the celebrating possible. Come and enjoy the festivities, or participate in the trials themselves! *This advertisement has been paid for by Snowy's Pub, where good eats and nice treats are coming your way. **Kinumo shall not be held liable for any harm that may come to participants of said event, or the participants of the festivities. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The purpose of this thread is to invite those interested to participate in an adventure/tournament to test your character's skills, and see if they are worthy of the Assassin's Guild. There will be three tests to overcome, tourist attractions, and it ends with a village party. Our characters will get to know each other, work hard, have fun, and possibly get branded with the Assassin's Mark. I'm looking for a large group, male and female characters, preferably powered.
  45. 4 points
    notmuch_23

    Le roi est mort, vive la reine

    Thurgood sighs, "I just at least wanted him to live long enough to see the navy we'll build the Empire," Thurgood says, "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..." Aveline didn't say anything. At this point she really can't without it sounding all blubbery.
  46. 4 points
    Turquoisie

    Grave Robbing in the Dead of Night

    Gabriel listened to the man who he identified as the Doc and he spoke of several things. The first item he mentioned was no names, only identifiers. Which was a confusing idea to Gabriel, since he understood that names already were identifiers. But he figured that some people would wish not to be traced back to their true identifier, their true name. This was a good idea, and Gabriel decided a good identifier for him would be Mahogany, because that was the exact shade of his hair. The second item brought up in the briefing was a quick run-down of the Mausoleum, and this operation. He pointed out everything that could be gathered by inspecting the exterior of the hospital, but little to no data from the interior and what awaited them. He then spoke of how the call to this project was sent to select individuals who would allow for the most efficient operation. This was a particularly interesting comment to Gabriel, seeing as he had not met many people yet since he had been created. It was curious that he received this message. Either someone had been watching him, and knew of his capabilities as an artificial intelligence, or he intercepted a message meant for someone else. He was going to try and figure out the probability of both, but instead chose to believe that he was the one chosen, as it made him feel better. Third. There was an interruption from an outsider that they called a bard. He was an interesting and carefree individual, and they practically forced him onto the job. This caused Gabriel to rethink the statement of saying they were all selected carefully. Once he did, he made the decision that the Doctor was in fact lying. The truth was probably that he wanted individuals that were capable, just as much as they were expendable. So, half true. Now Gabriel thought, are all Doctors liars? Or just half-liars? Or was it this specific man. A test would need to be conducted, since two is a coincidence and three is a pattern. More doctors must be question, but for now, Gabriel wouldn't trust them. He manually uploaded this conclusion to collective database of Victory AIs. Then, Gabriel was actually spoken to. He was told that if assailants would come and attack stronger than anticipated that he would help fend them off. This scared, yet excited Gabriel. He was scared of potential damage to his body, but excited to be helping with the cause of retaking the hospital for the good of the land with his fellow warriors. His team would consist of himself, the Bard, the talkative guy, the person in the suit, and the person wearing a mask. What an interesting bunch, Gabriel thought. Next, everyone was handed vials of a healing concoction. The Doc then harmed himself quite badly, to which Gabriel was shocked and about to perform first aid on the man. Then he healed himself with the vial of liquid, which Gabriel now knew was being used in this as a demonstration. The look of panic would now disappear from his face. He noticed that several of the others seemed to be trading their vials to each other, but not receiving anything in return. Either stupidity, or generosity Gabriel suspected. Unexpectedly, there was then an announcement of payment! This excited Gabriel, as he could use it to buy many new things once he found his way back to a suitable town. It was said that half of the money from the rich people would be split between all those assisting in the project. This would be the first time Gabriel ever received payment for a job, as he wasn't great in his previous workplaces. And paid for saving a hospital was the most noble thing he could be payed for. Wonderful! Twelve minutes was the last announcement. So, Gabriel began to time twelve minutes exactly, and would head out once that was done, or before then if a group member of his would leave the tent. One of the individuals caught Gabriel off guard by doing what he could only describe as 'throwing a bit of a fit', and leaving on his own to apply for a position at the hospital that was about to be liberated. Now, Gabriel was under the assumption that the evil-doers within the hospital would likely cause trouble and danger, and the rest of the workers would be taken away or dealt with. SO, it would make more sense to help liberate the establishment, rather than go join it, only to possibly be attacked by this group. Gabriel then marked this man as: Ignoramus, as he seemed to lack basic thought processing skills. So, Doctors are liars, and Large men are unintelligent was what he was receiving from these people. Great data for his collective! He kept all of his thoughts from this tent stored, and ready to upload. There were a few small exchanges happening, one man asking The Doc another question, but then Gabriel noticed one of his team members rush to the Mausoleum. So Gabriel naturally did a swift jog right after him. "Hello. I'm also part of the fire-team like you." Gabriel whispered as he crouched next to Chad at the hospital's entrance. "The Doc said only identifiers, so you can call me Mahogany, as it is the color of my hair. What is your identifier? It would be pertinent information to have before we liberate this establishment." @Monoxide
  47. 4 points
    Kalmuli

    Misral on Fire

    Ingrid rose from her spot at the side of the construction site. She felt more secure that it would be halted and maybe even cease. Regardless of Mia's goals, there was still the issue of what her actions had caused. Looking down the side of the volcano, the forests were burning and the burning had spread to farmland, homes...eventually, it would flow out to the sea, forming new rock. Ingrid couldn't look back to the elemental. It hurt far too much...It was like watching a relative be executed for a crime of only doing what they were designed to do. The fire elemental had been a big influence on why she decided to stay at Port Mars. The strength of such a being combined with an old and ancient reverence to it kept her at peace and she knew her students would benefit from the mana that spread outward from it. Now that it would be gone, it would leave it an empty shell...the island would fail to flourish. The young academy Headmaster would look to the group of Oathsworn, feeling the heat of caldera and the static of the lightning strikes. A prickling tickle at her throat made her cough roughly, looking back. It was getting too dangerous to stay any longer and the sulfuric gas was suffocating. Covering her mouth, she escaped away from it coughing up a storm but getting a message out. "If you value your lungs, get away from the volcano as soon as you can."She said, her eyes watering. "It's turning the air acidic...you'll be spewing blood." Ingrid would stop to cough again, the smoke and air feeling thicker as the fighting went on. Soon the elemental would be dead and the true repercussions would take place. Hopefully, a little justice. "There are healers and medicine at the Weaver Academy...It's a large white building with tall towers...Bring your injured there."She said to the closest person before she descended the mountain, stopping when the fires flared up from the burning forest. Bringing her arm away from her face, she brought both of them forward, the ground warping and loosening to billow upward to smother it out to make a path down.
  48. 4 points
    danzilla3

    Time will tell [UM noble house meeting]

    You really put me in my placenta.
  49. 4 points
    Wade

    Trace our path

    WHAT CAME BEFORE? 0:01 - Davant and friends run away from home and escape from the asasin’s gild assasins guild assassins guild 0:03 - Davant and friends go for a lovely stroll through the Great Pine Barrens 0:05 - That’s not a star 0:09 - Obelus yeets onto Valucre 0:11 - Obelus says fuck all y’all, turning Davant and friends into the X-Men (i.e. they get cool powers) 0:13 - The mental space parallel to Valucre that Davant and friends can access: Lachalom. The houses are physical representations of what their awakened minds consider home 0:17 - Davant did a bad thing. He hurt some people real bad. 0:33 - ?????????? I’m not sure if this even belongs here. Is this Davant killing people instead of 0:17? 0:25 - Noma or Malark (I can never remember which is which) starts figuring out their powers 0:41 - Noma or Malark (I’m really sorry) plans world domination / it’s a new beginning? They teleported to Genesaris and now things are in motion? Davants and elucidated folk are popping up worldwide? HISTORY LESSONS 1:21 - The X-Me- I mean the Sanctorium examine Elendaron, maybe after it decided to commit spiritual sudoku 1:29 - Obelus is watching? 1:36 - An eclipse of some kind. I’m going to start shitposting because I'm tired and running out of answers 1:44 - Seer or Stargate or Noma or Malark pondering whether pineapple belongs on pizza while casually dangling her legs at a drop of 20000 feet 1:51 - See how empty that skull is? That’s what mine looks like right now 1:58 - Frankenstein is born in the Datsuzoku Empire? 2:12 - The Sanctorium eyeballing Nu Martyr in Renovatio 2:20 - Feeling cute, might delete later 2:27 - Nevermind, that's a drone strike she's ordering 2:34 - Obelus: we're going to space. Me: REAL SHIT? YOU'VE MET THESE TWO ALREADY 2:42 - Noma and Malark OR Seer and Stargate (not sure if they're one and the same) Also I do realize Davant and friends are really Davant and family
  50. 4 points
    Witches Brew

    Art on the Hill

    Art of my character Mythandriel and @Better Than Gore 's character, Zanzarog ❤️ I love this piece, it came out so good!!
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