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      Vote for Valucre [June]   05/16/2017

      Voting for the month of June is open on TopRPSites! Vote for Valucre daily and help new members searching for a place to roleplay discover the same joys you have in Valucre. You can vote daily, so make voting for Valucre a habit. Discussion thread


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About danzilla3

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    Professional hyena wrestler.

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  1. John was disappointed but not surprised when Ivas passed right by without even a glance in his direction. The look on the boys face told him that he was intently focused on finding the ice cream stand where he had purchased a cone earlier. For a moment he considered following after the lad before dismissing the idea. The boy seemed to be trying his best to avoid a conflict with him; which made John think that he would just scowl and run off when he caught sight of him. Instead, he looked over to the boys companion, who was catching her breath on a park bench. This presented an interesting opportunity to learn more about the woman, and possibly piss off Ivas when he came back and saw him talking to her. Finishing his cone in two quick bites, he sauntered over to where the lady sat. When he was a few feet away, he called out to her. "My, my, what a pleasant surprise!" The woman might suspect that this meeting was not simple coincidence, he was fairly certain that he had not been detected as he followed the pair through the fair. He walked to stand in front of the woman and gave a genuine smile. "But I am glad to see you again, as I believe I rudely forgot to introduce myself." He took off his hat, and bowed deeply at the waist, "John Wilder, at your service."
  2. closed

    When the pink haired girl, Hixel he thought her name was, growled at the mention of this Mordecai. The name reminded him of a backwoods cult leader that he had impaled on a pitchfork, and he briefly wondered if the two were somehow related. Regardless, the mention of this man had provoked the most reaction he had seen from the young woman all night. Now he wanted to meet this Mordecai, just to see what about him could rile up someone who seemed so stoic. Between the two lovely women in the room, and the talk of what promised to be an immensely entertaining bit of business, Jack was starting to get excited. He would need to have a little fun after this, maybe buy a prostitute or start a bar fight. His excitement was only dulled slightly when Litalis mentioned the underworld refusing to bend over to just any cause. He chuckled at the notion. "The underworld moves as I deem fit. The way I see it, this deal makes us friends, or at least allies. If one of my friends asks for a favor, then I would do what I could to help them...provided that they would do the same."
  3. Grant carried the last of the boxes into the main room of the small building nestled in a corner of the market district. The boxes, filled with the kind of paper used to print newspaper, were stacked next to the few printing presses crammed into the small space. He had spent the better part of thirty minutes rounding up the various files and notes and materials the small publication had and getting them ready to burn. Now all that was left was to do one final sweep of the place to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Not that he doubted what the writers of the anti-king newspaper had told him when he had questioned them. Some people thought that getting information out of a person required power tools and electrical wires. Those people were idiots and sadists. When he had asked the Senior Editor where the sensitive materials that had been leaked to them by a mole within the Kings court, he had simply explained the situation to him. That he was only here to put the paper out of commission. That he had no grudge against these people, and that he would allow them to live if they cooperated. Faced with the gravity of his situation, the man had capitulated. Grant now walked to stand in front of the paper's staff, three men and two women. He had bound their hands and feet together with zip ties and made them sit against the wall as he went about gathering up the materials. He looked down at the Senior Editor, a wiry old man with thinning grey hair. The man stared back with as much defiance as he could muster, and Grant silently admired his courage. "Is that everything?" he asked the old man. The old man nodded, "That's it. Now will you keep your promise?" For a moment Grant just stared at the bound men and women before him. To them it might have seemed as if he was deciding whether they would live or die, but the truth was far stranger than that. Right now, the mercenary was seeing into a past he had never lived. The scene was much like the one currently happening, a row of men kneeling before him, but these men had been beaten, gagged and blindfolded. Then, he saw himself pulled out a handgun and place it against the forehead of the first of the men... "Well?" The memory was gone as suddenly as it had come, and now he once again stood before the captive reporters, sweating and shaking, his breathing labored. His captives were looking at him like he was crazy, and he didn't blame them. Instead of answering the old man, Grant knelt down and cut the zip ties binding the reporters with his knife. "Get out of here," he ordered the frightened journalists, "And I suggest you find another line of work." The staff filed out, and Grant pulled a thermite grenade from his belt and placed it on top of the printing press. He pulled the pin and stepped back, staying just long enough to see the grenade erupt in a shower of sparks before he left the building. An hour later the mercenary sat in the back of a crowded tavern, sipping from a bottle of whiskey as he waited for his contact to arrive. Though he hated the work he did, and the Beast King in general, it was these meeting that he truly dreaded. When he caught sight of the man, dressed in a well tailored suit and hair slicked back, he almost prayed that the man wouldn't notice him. Those hopes were dashed when the man spotted him and grinned that fake little smile of his, walking over to take a seat across from Grant. "I take it things went well?" the contact asked, his tone pleasant. Grant nodded as he took another sip, "You can tell the king that he doesn't have to worry about those photos." The Contacts smile widened, "Excellent. I knew our investment in you would pay off." An entire year of doing the monarchies dirty work at their behest, and Grant still had no idea who exactly the people his contact represented were, or what their plans were. They seemed invested in supporting the rule of the Beast King, but that was all he had managed to figure out. That, and that they had considerable resources. Enough to find him, pay for Marry's treatments, and shield her from the wrath of his considerable list of enemies. All in all, not much to go on. Grant looked down at his drink to avoid the mans gaze, "Glad to hear it. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone." "Not just yet," the Contact said. He pulled out a file and passed it across the table, "Your new assignment." Knowing the man would not leave until he had complied, Grant wordlessly took the file and opened it. Inside was a photograph of a young woman. "Who is she?" "That, is Countess Raveena, here to meet with the king on a diplomatic mission. We have reason to believe that she intends to lead a revolt against Raz-Nogore." He didn't bother asking how he had come across this information, knowing he wouldn't get an answer, "And you want me to do what? Kill her?" The Contact laughed, "Heavens no. For now we simply want you to observe and report on her actions." Grant slid the file back to the other man, "Fine. Where do I find her?" The Contact produced a slip of paper from his breast pocket, "Our information says she is due to arrive here. Good luck." The man walked out of the bar and Grant looked at the address written on the paper. He drained his glass, and then got up to make his way there.
  4. When Silver woke up the next morning Red was already gone. He hadn't even heard them come in, although he supposed it wouldn't have mattered, as he was still to wounded to help her if the need arose. Not ten minutes later, two guards came into the room and roughly hoisted him to his feet. One of the guards allowed the gladiator to lean on him slightly as they walked down the corridors. Eventually they arrived at the same arena that he had fought in the day before. But standing in the ring this time was the man in the red suit who had bought him from the auction. He was flanked by two more guards, and the old trainer from yesterday. The guards ushered Silver into the ring, making him stop just ten feet shy of Red Suit. The man looked the slave up and down, seemingly taking note of something, before nodding his head. "Bring her in." On the mans command, a small, elderly woman was escorted into the ring by a guard holding a small stool and some kind of box. The guard put the stool down in front of Silver, and Red Suit gestured for him to take a seat. The gladiator did so, wincing slightly as he lowered himself down. Once he was seated, the old woman opened the box and pulled out a small jar of something. Then she went to work removing his old bandages. "So," spoke Red Suit, his voice a deep baritone, "Your the gladiator I've heard so much about. Silver isn't it?" Not knowing whether the man expected an answer, Silver nodded anyway and the man continued. "My associate here says that you refuse to kill your opponents," he said, gesturing to the old man, "And that continuing to try to force you to do so would just be a waste of time and resources.' Silver eyed the trainer, "Wise man." Red Suit nodded, "I've often found that to be the case. In any event, this leaves me with a dilemma; since as you refuse to kill you are useless in the pits, but to waste your talents would be truly regrettable. So I've come up with a proposal." Red Suit snapped his fingers and a stream of what looked like freshly bought slaves into the arena, ten of them in total. For a moment he thought that he was going to have to fight again, but the man in the suit held up his hand. By the time the men were done filing in, the old woman had removed his bandages, and had started to rub some kind of strange smelling paste on his body. "Since you won't kill, I will have you train others to do so in your stead," Red Suit clasped his hands together, "And before you ask, should you refuse, I will not kill you. What I will do, is kill one man every day that you refuse me." Silver ground his teeth together in frustration. He knew that they would find a way to make him useful eventually, and all things considered, this was a pretty good deal. But the thought of teaching these poor bastards to kill people turned his stomach. Ultimately, he knew what he had to do. Red Suit stepped forward and stuck out his hand. At his prompting, Silver got up and shook the mans hand. The deal was done. For the next few days Silver would be taken to the arena, where he would be teach his new students how to hopefully survive the arena. Most of them barely knew how to throw a punch properly, so he started with the basics. Once that was done, he moved on to teaching them to utilize the weaknesses of the human body against an opponent; demonstrating all manner of joint locks and breaks. At the beginning of each day, the old woman would apply more ointment and fresh bandages. He had no idea what was in the stuff, but soon his wounds were all but healed. Each day when he was led back to his dorm, Red was usually asleep, but sometimes she would wake up and talk to him excitedly. He would listen, and occasionally get a word in edgewise when she stopped to take a breath. It was nice to have someone who was always glad to see him, and he came to greatly enjoy conversing with her; strange though she often was. When Red asked if he was well enough to go on another trip with Sasha, he readily agreed.
  5. @Rudolph go ahead and post in Croatoan. It's been three days.
  6. On a similar note, I was thinking if a disgruntled mercenary hired through a third party to help put the boot to the proletariat. So the king can have a bit of plausible deniability.
  7. What about incendiary devices?
  8. I have a guy with a love of explosions. Plagues don't like those right?
  9. Take care man. We'll keep shit running till you get back.
  10. If Ivas had been hoping to discourage John from following along after him by shooting evil looks at him, then he had made a major miscalculation. Although at this point he was increasingly unsure if the boy could do calculations, or even spell the word. People like him were the most fun to play with, minimum effort required for maximum reward. He didn't even have to say anything, the mere sight of him seemed to boil the boys blood. As he watched him lead the lady past him, he decided that for now he would simply follow along at enough of a distance for Ivas to know he was there. He wondered how far the boy would go before tried to lose him, or snapped and resorted to violence. John easily kept pace with the pair as they moved through the crowd. Even on the few times they were out of his sight, he could still smell them even through they myriad scents of the festival. He had tracked far more cunning prey than Ivas, so this was practically a walk in the park. So he kept moving and waited to see what would happen.
  11. Silver didn't think he would ever understand the woman clinging to him. Most of the time she seemed like the most self confidant person he had ever met, more than happy to provoke others into a reaction just for fun. But then there were moments like this, where she seemed to be a normal person, reacting to her circumstances the same way anyone in her situation would. He didn't know what Sasha had whispered to her, but it must have been pretty bad to cause this kind of response. The last time he had seen her like this was yesterday, when she had been brought back after whatever, "Training," her owner had subjected her to. But he didn't need to understand her to understand that she was legitimately scared. So he gently put one arm around her, and looked down at her. "Red. I promise that I will never hurt you."
  12. Yeah, just changed it. That should clear up the confusion.
  13. Gonna go in the order we originally posted. Three day skip rule.
  14. closed

    Jack was enjoying this meeting vastly more than he had anticipated when he first got his invitation. Most of the time when someone tried to hire him they were very dry, very serious, and very boring. It seemed that he had found something of a kindred spirit in the man named Litalis, noticing how the man smiled as he had laid out his personal philosophy regarding criminal enterprise. The pink haired girl was harder to read, as she had seemed content to let her companion do the talking. But that was fine with him. A little mystery made things more...exciting. He had heard the waitress approach the door before she had walked into the room. The blonde haired woman wore a tight black dress that might have strained his attention if he were less professional than he was. As she went around the table, he grabbed the jug of beer as she came close; then reached into his jacket and placed a gold coin onto the tray by way of a tip. Pulling the cork out with his teeth, he took a long pull from the container as Litalis mentioned him needing time to prepare. "Prep time shouldn't be more than a few days," he said as he placed the half drained jug on the table, "If I offer a little bonus we'll have no shortage of volunteers, and supplies." Jacks attention shifted to the waitress as Litalis gestured for the woman to sit down at the table. He watched with casual interest as the other man asked woman for her name."