Voting has reset for the month of May. Valucre is in the top 10 but we aim for the top 3 for maximum visibility when people land on the home page of the topsite. If you want to help new members discover Valucre, vote for us daily.


Register now to gain access to the World of Valucre. Once you do, you'll be able to contribute to this site by submitting your own content or replying to existing content. You can ask questions before signing up in the pre-registration threadexplore the world's lore in the Valucre Overview, and learn all you need to know in five minutes by reading the Getting Started page.


  • Content count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

1 Follower

About Wade

  • Rank
  • Birthday 08/27/1996

Profile Information

  • Gender
  • Location
    Dimension C-137
  • Interests
    Reading, writing, hitting the gym, watching too much tv, procrastination, surviving school

Recent Profile Visitors

446 profile views
  1. What kind of kool aid are you drinking to be writing like that I need to know
  2. For the first time in her life, Alice Pendleton was on vacation. A real vacation, away from home. The idea was completely foreign to her. Never until her recruitment into the military had she considered that she might see beyond the steam-choked horizon of Tia’s industry, or the ambiguous violence that permeated its slums. For someone of her upbringing, the very notion was nothing but a dream- a bitter, cynical dream whose trappings she hadn’t allowed herself to fall for. And yet there she sat, not a care in the world, drinking mead on a boardwalk patio in some faraway country. A stubborn part of her still questioned whether it was all real sometimes, but for now, Alice was simply content to stare out across the bay, and maybe get buzzed while she was at it. Two silent gulps emptied the last of her drink before she set the tankard down at the edge of her table. She leaned forward, propped her chin into the flat of her hand, and began to peruse the harbour with her eyes. Sailors passing by would often stare into them, drawn in by a shimmering blue which froze over with cold analysis each time a particular ship caught her attention. She would dissect each vessel for a few seconds at a time, using her mind like a scalpel to cut into their inner workings and take them apart for inspection. After nearly a minute of this, her gaze lingered on a ship that wouldn’t ordinarily strike her as anything worth mentioning. It was drab and insignificant, especially in comparison to a neighbouring frigate she meant to check out later, though what stood out about it was its almost offensive appearance. Unusual scars marred its hull, and something about its ambience spoke of menaces far worse than cannon fire. Alice wondered what its crew could tell her, if it had one. Few told a story as well as a sailor, and fewer still had as many interesting tales to tell. “Miss?” a voice suddenly ventured, distracting Alice from her thoughts. When she looked up, a server was standing at the ready. “Can I get you another drink?” “Please,” she nodded. “Before that though, do you know whose ship that is?” The server’s eyes followed her finger, settling on the ship in question. “Oh, that one,” he said, voice full of recognition. “She belongs to Pierce. He comes here to drink sometimes. Don’t really know much about him but apparently he was in bad shape when he first showed up. He’s actually sitting inside if you want to talk to him but uh…” He lowered his tone. “He doesn’t say a lot. No matter what we do, he kinda just sits there and stares off into space, so it’s probably not worth your while." “Mmm, alright.” She glanced past the boat, spotting something. “Get us a round of whiskey but wait until I’m inside. I just want to see something first.” “You got it.” With that, he disappeared back into the bar. Meanwhile, Alice kept on sitting, fixated on a certain pinprick in the sky. It grew bigger ever so slightly, giving shape to what appeared to be a massive bird. Soon she could see the carrion feeding off it, and the way it seemed to ignore them completely, as if being eaten alive didn’t bother it in the slightest. She waited for the creature to act. To get angry. Fight back, her mind whispered. She found it unsettling, more so as it flew closer and closer. Abruptly, it altered its trajectory directly towards the harbour, and Alice felt her fingers tense up. She watched its descent with a subtle sense of dread, suspecting it meant to feed or do something of the sort. It sure looked big enough to feed on humans. One hand unconsciously went to her blade, and the other began to course with unnatural heat. That’s when someone brought the bird down. A sickening crunch filled the air when it hit the ground, and suddenly her eyes were upon it, dissecting its rotting flesh and the man who had dealt with it. She sat there for a while, taking it all in until she decided she wanted a closer look. She pulled out some change and left it on the table, then made her way out and towards the gathering crowd.
  3. You’re no security of mine. Of mine. Two very important words. I blinked, unsure what to make of them. Was this her train? This cargo her stuff? No way. She was too young to have that kind of money in her pockets. Then again, her clothes practically screamed nobility. I could’ve pegged her for a princess in that dress. Hell, maybe she was one for all I knew. It would've explained the money, though a bit of logical reasoning tempted me into thinking of the train as belonging to her family, and not her alone. Anyway, I didn’t have time to run the numbers. I had another problem on my hands, and its name was Uncertainty. It was staring me right in the face like a bomb about to go off, and every second wasted meant a second closer to doomsday. I had to figure out which wires to cut, which words to say, and fast. She’d been looking at my gun, and I didn’t need her getting the wrong idea anytime soon. “Alright sweetheart, you got me,” I admitted, raising my hands in defence. “I’m going to be honest with you, okay? No tricks, no lies. Just the truth.” I considered putting my rifle on the ground as a show of trust, then decided against it. Any move towards it could’ve set her off, even if announced. I settled for a reassuring smile. “Name’s Teddy. I’m a bounty hunter,” I said, sounding more casual. "I was tracking someone in Ashville for a while, but they slipped through the cracks when they caught wind that I was looking for them. Luckily, I managed to get a lead on him this morning at the last minute. They’re skipping town on this train, so I had to board the cargo ‘cause I couldn’t risk letting him see me on one of the passenger cars.” Everything but the beginning was a lie, and it probably sounded like it. The story was cheap and full of holes. Still, I kept on talking because what else was I going to do? The only contingency plan I could think of was to pull a gun on her and tell her to sit quietly until we reached the station. That or until someone noticed she was gone. “If that’s not good enough for you, I’ve got money. Not a lot but enough to make it worth your time if you don’t get me thrown off."
  4. I had a lot of fun playing hide and seek as a kid, but as I got older the game quickly lost its appeal. If you got caught back in grade school, there weren’t any real consequences. It was all “Ha! I got you!” and “Aaaaw maaaan!” and then you’d sit on the sidelines for a bit before doing it all over again. At worst, there’d be that one annoying little shit taunting you, and next thing you know you’re in the principal’s office swearing to Gaia that you never laid hands on him. As an adult, you’re not really hiding for fun anymore; you’re hiding to save your ass. Where it used to be your buddies and classmates chasing you, you’re now watching out for cops, a chainsaw murderer, or your ornery grandma who just don’t die. I sat quietly, not moving a muscle. I couldn’t see who walked in, so I had to rely on my ears to paint a visual. A distinct clicking sound accompanied each footstep, and my mind pointed to heels, someone feminine. Surely not Grandma, I prayed. One step, click. Two step, click. Three step, splash! A pause. “A-Are…you fucking kidding me?” a young, feminine voice snapped. I tilted my head back and suppressed a groan. Unfortunately, no, I replied silently. That is indeed piss on your shoes. My piss on your shoes. Funny as it was, the jig was up. “Hello…? Who’s there?!” she asked. I kept quiet at first, thinking how I could lie my way out of this one. “That’d be me,” I suddenly called out, before adding, “Don’t be alarmed.” Slowly, I started shuffling my way out from behind the crates, rifle and backpack bumping along as I dragged them with me. “I’m just, uh…I’m…uh...” Stalling, clearly. When I could fully stand, I slung on my backpack and shouldered my rifle, then turned to get a good look at the lady I was talking to. My eyes immediately went to hers. Then they were on her hair, her dress, her lips, and back on her eyes again, greyish blue things like the ocean on a rainy day. I began to mouth something, only to stop right away. I realized I didn’t have a single intelligent thing to say besides ‘Wow, you’re cute’ or ‘I wanna smear green paint over you and spank you like a disobedient avocado’. I don't know where that one came from either. A beat passed, and an idea suddenly sprung up. “I’m security,” I said in a firm tone of voice. “Just checking for stowaways since there’s uh, well, pee on the floor, as you already know.” I gestured to the puddle. Taking the act a little further, I planted my hands on my hips, and gave her a questioning look. “Can I ask what you’re doing here, ma’am? Bathroom’s the other way, if you need it."
  5. The room was dark. Or rather, the car was dark. Not the kind you steer with a wheel and joyride around town with your friends but the kind that chugs along a train track at fifty miles per hour. I couldn’t see a whole lot, though that didn’t bother me as much as it could have- all there was of interest were a bunch of crates and tarp-covered junk, plus a humdrum view of the next car’s rear if you looked out one of two windows. I’d been hiding in a corner for a while now, crammed in behind some cargo and lemme tell you, it wasn’t a good time. Too cramped to move, too uncomfortable to sleep, and most importantly, no bathroom in sight. If I wanted to take a piss, I either had to do it in another corner or go out on the balcony and risk getting caught with my dick out. God forbid I needed to take a shit. So how’d I pass the time? Short answer: I didn’t. I just sat there, twiddling my thumbs, thinking, and that only lasts for so long. At one point your mind gets tired. Or bored, I’m not sure which here. Then it switches off and you end up staring at nothing, with drool oozing down your chin and a fly buzzing inside your head like some imbecile straight out of a cartoon. Eventually I got hungry, leading me to most exciting part of my day (so far): eating a long-forgotten chewy bar fished from the bottom of my backpack. Suffice to say, the stowaway’s life was not for me. By the time I finished my sad little snack, the moment I’d been dreading was finally upon me. I needed to pee. I sighed, then looked at my watch. Still had a few hours to go ‘till I’d reach Tia. No point holding it in. I let out a grunt as I shuffled out awkwardly from my hidey hole, and stood up stiffly. Stretching followed, giving me a moment to think about how I wanted to do this. Peeing inside was the safer bet but it would stink real good, considering the lack of air circulation. Anyone walking in would smell it, and that warranted a potential investigation. On the other hand, anyone looking out the back window would see me if I went outside. Odds of that happening were definitely higher, higher still when it came to getting me a first class ticket off this train. A riveting dilemma, I assure you. In the end, I did the rational thing and went for the first option. Zip. Silence. More Silence. ... Psssssssssssssssssssss. Oh that feels goo- A muffled clang suddenly filled the air. Instantly I knew someone just closed the neighbouring car’s door. Aw shit. I forced myself to stop midstream as I scrambled for the crates. Roughly ten seconds later, the door swung open and I was back to my original spot, my thought process an incoherent string of vulgarities directed at the powers that be. Whoever stepped inside couldn’t see me, nor I them, but I wasn’t very confident that would last. Kinda hard to be when you just marked your territory.
  6. Alice Pendleton A regular pint-sized atom bomb Basic Name: Alice Pendleton Nickname: None Species: Terran Human Gender: Female Age: 23 Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Alignment: Neutral good Role: Soldier (Terrenus Military) Unit: Elemental Knights Physical Height: 6’0” Weight: 162 lbs Hair: Copper red Eyes: Azure blue Skin: Warm beige Build: Lean and athletic Dominant hand: Left Voice: Smooth yet firm Detailed description: Tall and noble-looking, with the poise of a leader, Alice fits the soldier’s profile like a glove. Lean muscle frames her entire body, giving shape to a pair of toned legs, a firm midsection, and chiselled arms still recognizable as feminine. Copper red hair flows past her shoulders down to the middle of her chest, and she tends to let it fall naturally unless a ponytail is in order. Cool blue eyes peer out from behind a face of sharp-featured stoicism, with a faint scar running the length of her right cheekbone and thin lips of a paler complexion. Attire: Alice cuts a striking figure in her uniform. Her hair shines like fire against its Prussian blue motif, and the gold accents running down its length only stand to make her look even more regal than she does on her own. While clearly designed to impress, it’d be a mistake to think of her outfit as anything less than combat functional. She retains full range of motion while wearing it, and flame retardant properties are woven into its fabric. She wears a kevlar vest underneath her jacket for safe measure. Personality Demeanour: Calm, cool and collected Strengths: Confident, bold, tenacious, hardworking, innovative and practical Weaknesses: Quiet, solitary, guarded, insensitive, arrogant MBTI: INTJ Detailed description: A lone wolf by nature, a solitary flame who burns brightest when left to her own devices. Alice plays by her own rules and doesn’t care to rely on others, fuelling an independence that’s both her greatest strength and weakness. She’s bold and strong-willed, confident and proud, though she doesn’t always broadcast these qualities due to a quiet demeanour, layered by a soldier’s posturing, that suppresses much in the way of body language. Even her eyes, incandescent in their cool blue pragmatism, reveal very little as to what goes on in her head. She’s rather casual in spite of the professionalism she projects, preferring to speak in blunt, human terms which often border on crass. A sharp tongue ensures that her words cut to the bone, and there’s not much out there that’ll deter her from using it. Biography Here’s another short one, ‘cause I’ve got no patience for these. Alice started out as - surprise- a notorious criminal. Originally a street rat from Tia, she rolled with a gang during her youth as a means of keeping food on the table and a roof over her head. For a teenage girl, she was incredibly gifted in the art of pyrokinesis and she made this fact known during heists, shootouts, and smuggling operations gone wrong. She was 21 when her gang finally got busted, and she got jail time up the wazoo for theft, murder, and (you guessed it) arson. Luckily for her, Chief Generic from the Terrenus military pulled up to the other side of the glass and said, “Boy, do I have a proposition for you.” Either she could rot in a cell for the rest of her life, or she could use her freaky deaky powers for good. Obviously, Alice chose the latter. During her training she was granted a formal education that she never received growing up, teaching her on subjects like math, science, literature, and history. As a result, she graduated from bootcamp much later than other recruits. Alice worked hard for another year when she was accepted into the Elemental Knights unit, undergoing a more intensive training program this time around. Officials set her to work immediately upon completion, and this is where we find her now, with a few months of active duty under her belt. Gear Officer’s Sword A modern-looking longsword whose blade, straight-edged and roughly the width of two fingers, can collapse into the handle. Remarkably durable, granted its lighter shape. Crafted by Tian inventors. Crystal Communications Device Standard-issue communication device handed out to members of the Terrenus military (see Terrenus Military thread) E.M. Spectacles Crystal lenses in the form of contacts that allow night vision, magnetic imaging, and thermal imaging. Military I.D. Self-explanatory (see Terrenus Military thread). Skills Hellspawn: Raging infernos are Alice’s bread and butter. A natural affinity for pyrokinesis combed by years of training has led to her mastery over the element of fire. Master swordsman: So lit I’m tempted to give her a katana. Hand to hand: Typical CQC skills learned in boot camp. Not top-tier stuff but it’ll get her out of a jam. Infiltrator: Knows how to get around without raising any alarms.
  7. Alright bois and boiettes, here's the unimportant lowdown of Wade's character. She's hot. She's tough. She's got personality. And most importantly, she's hot she's still a work in progress. Don't worry though! I've got a whopping 21 hours to kill at the airport and on the plane tomorrow, so I can assure you she'll be ready by Thursday. Friday, at the absolute latest. Cheers.
  8. It seems that, no matter where he goes, Sathrir cannot escape war. He stands near the Tavern’s edge, a lone pillar among a mass of heads. He looms like a column built from muscle and armour. People are afraid of him. They usually are, he can tell. From the way they shift around him to the wary glances they steal in his direction. Even minute details such as the bristling of hairs, or how shoulders stiffen at his touch. The signs are there, and he seems them all. Lesser men would bask in this feeling of power. Not Sathrir. He derives no gratification from it. Centuries of isolation have already taught him that it’s better to be liked than feared. Respected, at the very least. It’s difficult to be either when one can’t speak. He watches solemnly, listens intently. The guard offers two choices: fight or hide. Sathrir doesn’t even need to choose because the crowd has already chosen for him. Heads turn towards him. Expectant eyes meet his. They rove over his clawed hands and the black blade at his hip. When the guardsman’s stare reaches him, it lingers. It questions. Above all else, it hopes. Will this giant, this beast, come to our aid? Will this age-old warrior risk the memory of a forgotten people to preserve our own? Yes, Sathrir thinks so. To run would be dishonour. He knows this and justifies it, almost subconsciously. His mind is instinct, a box of weary idealism, and raising a fist to signal his cooperation comes as naturally to him as breathing. A murmur of approval sweeps the vicinity, and the guardsman echoes the sentiment with a nod of his own. Yes. This is just. An eager voice suddenly cuts through the collective hum. “Ooooo, me, me, pick me!” it says. The source is a young man with royal blue hair. More people make their support known, albeit hesitantly. It’s not an uncommon tale for the eager hero to be cut down by reality. Still, Sathrir has only respect for him. No act is more noble than risking your life for another, regardless of motivation. A gloved hand follows, then a staff. A few others feel encouraged enough to reciprocate. Sathrir looks over every man and woman who might fight at his side. Should he survive, he will remember them. And should he die, he can only hope they will remember him.
  9. Dark Souls theming, you say? Count me in. Dunno which character I'll be using yet but I'll figure it out real soon.
  10. The Lantern Knight "Rage against extinction." Basic Name: Sathrir Nicknames: Green Species: Priyan (saurian biped) Gender: Male Age: 317 (roughly 25 to 35 in human years) Alignment: Neutral Role: Aimless wanderer Physical Height: 7’8" Weight: 385 lbs Skin: Charcoal grey and sage green Eyes: Amber Build: Tall and imposing (humanoid) Dominant hand: Right Voice: Mute Detailed description: Sathrir’s nothing short of a veritable titan. He towers towards the sky like a stoic monolith, carved from the densest of muscle fibres, and shaped by the hands of war. His lean, powerful physique bears the marks of an apex predator, such as claws on both hands and feet, serrated teeth, and wide-set eyes granting 240 degree vision. A large majority of his body is layered with thick, grey skin, though green scales run from the crest of his forehead down to the back of his neck, shoulders, and lower back. While he has no tail, there is a small protrusion from a pronounced tailbone, hinting that his species once did possess them. His face lacks any and all human quality, as it resembles something of a cross between a tyrannosaurus and a dragon. Consequentially, most people struggle to get a read on him based on facial expressions alone. Attire: Sathrir wears a set of light armour whose appearance can best be described as a mixture of samurai and Persian influence. Though pitted and scarred, it still retains the regal grace of a warrior hailing from a golden age, blending a black and red motif with specks of gold. No helmet. Personality Demeanour: Silent and brooding Strengths: Perceptive, pragmatic, patient, kind, resolute Weaknesses: Stubborn, single-minded, shy, modest Detailed description: TBW Biography A long time ago, the Priyans were a free, prosperous people who had made their home in Genesaris. Reputed for their physical prowess, they eventually became the targets of an elven empire who wished to acquire them as slaves. For decades, the elven empire invaded the outer edges of Priyan territory and abducted individuals into their homeland. Bitter resentment became widespread among the Priyans, however they could never muster up the courage to fight back due to their comparatively small numbers and primitive technology. Sathrir was one of the few rare Priyan children brought into the world as a slave. He was the only child on the farm he’d been born in, leading the owner to take pity on him. During his boyhood, he would perform chores inside the house while the adults outside worked the ploughs. When he discovered his culinary talents in the kitchen, he was assigned a permanent position as a chef. Several years passed, and he continued to cook for his master as he passed into adolescence. Unbeknownst to Sathrir, he had become a symbol of hate and envy among his fellow slaves. One night, a handful of them killed his parents and tortured him for hours. By sunrise, they had broken him, leaving him out to dry on the field in a pool of his own blood and tears. Somewhere along the line, they had cut out his tongue. The next few days were a blur to Sathrir. Through the haze of suicidal depression, he could only make out the vaguest impressions of floggings, public executions, and long bouts of isolation. The owner tried to put him back to work in the kitchen, but the weight of his loss soured his work ethic and rendered him near-useless. Rather than put him out to work alongside those who’d scorn him, he was sent off to work in a mine in an act of twisted goodwill. The Priyan Rebellion began when he was a young man. Forces from home swept the elven empire in a raging tide of hate and retribution, liberating slaves as they went. Such was the case with Sathrir, who was freed from his chains by those spearheading the assault. Inspired by the justice in their cause and the vengeance in his heart, he fought in the Rebellion for years to come. Despite his lack of training, he proved to be one of the fiercest warriors on the battlefield, making a name for himself in an exceptionally short amount of time (as is usual in times of war). In recognition of his achievements, he was given the honorary title of Lantern Knight. For a time, it looked like the Priyans would actually win the war. That hope was shattered when the elves developed a magical weapon that would turn the tide of battle, and soon trigger the extinction of Sathrir’s people. Unfathomable casualties swept over the Priyan army like a tidal wave. What the Priyans accomplished in five years, the elves undid in six months. Any and all resistance quickly faded, subverting the nature of the game to one of desperate survival. Two centuries later, the Priyans are nothing more than a myth. Sathrir, the last remaining Priyan for all he knows, now wanders the land in search of purpose, trying to give his life meaning now that he’s been robbed of everything. Equipment A Vindicator's Wish A black gladius built for the hands of a Priyan, scaled to match Sathrir’s immense size. Traits Enhanced musculature: Sathrir is everything a supersoldier ought to be: strong and fast. While his strength may not be minotaur-tier, it still surpasses a human’s by a significant amount, and he can easily reach 75 kilometres per hour (46.6 miles per hour) when running. Agile and flexible. Cold-blooded: Sathrir’s body temperature reflects the temperature of his environment, so much so that he can appear invisible on thermal imaging in the right conditions. 240 degree vision: Result of possessing wide-set eyes. Physical hardiness: The first thing worth mentioning here is that Priyans can live up to a thousand years. The second is their thick skin and dense musculature. Neither are impervious to cuts or bruises- it just takes a greater amount of strain to wound them. And an extra mile to kill them. The last thing would be their digestive system, which is capable of processing most toxins, and going several days without nourishment. Skills Savage warrior: Sathrir never received proper swordsmanship training, putting him at a disadvantage against skilled warriors. To compensate, he uses his brutal strength and predatory agility in a horrifyingly effective fashion. Culinary god: He’ll cook you the best crab cakes you’ll ever taste in your entire life. Survivalist: Whether he’s out on a battlefield or in the middle of an unforgiving desert, he’ll find a way. He always has. Weakness: If you really want to put in the work, ditch the swords and axes. Go for arrows or magic. Note: Still a bit of a WIP.
  11. I'm but a lowly fates pleb. I'll be swapping Teddy for a character I'm adapting from an old Elder Scrolls RP I played in very briefly. Profile should be up soon, and I'll probably be joining on later this week when I get back home.
  12. *sees thread title* Aaaaayyyyy, I see you my ninja. What's been said above pretty much covers where to start, but don't be afraid to ask around if you have any more questions. The community's pretty friendly and we're always happy to help out. I noticed you have a character trying to reach Casper, and it just so happens I have a character from there (Teddy, link in signature). If you'd be interested in roleplaying with a shameless opportunist having them meet up sometime, feel free to hit me up! On that note, welcome to Valucre!
  13. Alright sweet, I'll put in Teddy as a placeholder for now. I'll see if I can come up with a character that would better fit a fantasy setting (lord knows I need one anyway), but no promises.
  14. I've been meaning to stretch my legs after a solid break, and this seems like a good place to do it. I'd be willing to toss in Teddy, though I'm not sure how you'd feel about a character with guns in a traditional fantasy setting. Here's his profile: Also, as a note: I'm on vacation until the 17th, so I'd only be able to start roleplaying around the 18th.