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deadcasketburied

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  1. Not A Mod, But An Eager Roleplayer

    Welcome to Valucre! Pretty sure the was a pokemon thread going on recently? Still may be up, might want to check out how that went!
  2. [Ravenspire] Finally.

    Pinned under the intrusive gaze of the Titan, Helena’s rehearsed fake smile vanished, her mouth left bare and still. She made no attempt to reestablish the façade, recognizing the act would be unnecessary in the presence of this…thing. In anticipation for his arrival, Helena folded her hands on her lap and followed his movements with her blank, green eyes. She assimilated the characteristics of a doll—serene, pristine, stoic, unfeeling—so perfectly well, some wondered if she was truly living. He spoke as the breached her personal space and settled next to her effortlessly, a well-trained gentleman used to the elaborate dance of etiquette. She was surprised he could describe her pathetic existence so well simply by having locked eyes with her, though her otherworldly features remained frozen, showed him nothing. Likely pointless, she imagined, given he had learned all there was to her already. Matching his rhythm in the dance of manners, Helena clasp the hand he offered, just the tiniest of smiles lifting the corners of her mouth, the most she could mustered. “Trevor, is it?” She highly doubted it as she withdrew her hand, returned it to its previous position. She shifted slightly, her chin slightly lifted to better examine his face. “I am Nina Bonina Laquisa Tranquisa Eloise Brown,” she retorted, her true smile growing bigger, “but you can call me Helena.” She laughed at the end, a low pitched sound that was rumored to send shivers down the spine of men. As discreetly as she could, Helena glanced about, recognized no other individual present and estimated her escort would not arrive for a while yet; she would not rescued from this creature and whatever game he wished to play. Nevertheless, she was intrigued by him, a thing so different from all others present—or any other she had ever met. “A game you say? Well, why not? However, I do have a request: whatever game we play, if you lose, you must tell me your true name. After all, I have given you mine."
  3. Well, Hello There!

    Welcome aboard! You'll find plenty to do around these parts if you keep poking around
  4. Intro

    Welcome to the site!
  5. Entrance

    Welcome! Don't know much about the early D&D versions, but currently in a 5e campaign and I love it! You'll find lots of creativity around, plenty to explore! Hope you enjoy your stay!
  6. Hello, there.

    Welcome to the board!
  7. For Joyeuse.

    Were she not famished, despite having eaten just a few hours ago, Charmaine would have taken her leave and left the two men to discuss their business. But alas, her stomach rumbled ever so quietly, and the sweet aroma of the stew she had ordered was much too tempting to ignore for the sake of politeness. So she remained seated with them, listened to their conversation, and finished the bread appetizer she had been served to quell her hunger. Atticus continued his onslaught against Christian, albeit the man remained unfazed by his vicious growls and bites. After several more attempts, the small beast accepted temporary defeat, grew bored and wandered off the table to investigate his surroundings. Christian and Auberon’s exchange ended with a proposition for the young man, a chance to leave their party and be on his way to reunite with his missing father. At a loss for words in such a delicate situation, Charmaine only smiled at the boy, silently assured him of her support for whatever decision he decided was best. The discussion was stopped by the arrival of their food, a welcomed reprieved from the heavy atmosphere that had just settled among them. Eager to eat and lightened the mood, Charmaine dug right into her food, the first taste drawing out a low moan of appreciation from her. “This is absolutely delicious! You must try! Here, dig in!” She insisted the two try from her plate, and turned her pretty eyes to Christian and Auberon for a taste of theirs. The meal satisfied her basic needs, left her stuffed, and ended much sooner than she anticipated. With that diversion devoured, the topic at hand was sure to return to darker themes and private matters. Wishing to cause no inconvenience, Charmaine reached across the table and patted Auberon’s hand, smiled. “Whatever you decided, I am sure is the right decision for you. Please, do not worry for us. Christian here is ancient right?” She joked, “He can survive it all.” With that, she excused herself, picked up her tired stuffed animal, and headed up to her rooms, both to freshen up some and give the men a chance to speak freely.
  8. Something of worth.

    Aided by the lustrous light of the lantern, Camila watched and tended to Ezekiel over the course of several days, the vicious injuries he had suffered slowly but surely healing—and rather well, at that. After his condition stabilized, Camila indulged in a bit of rest herself, now that she was certain Death would not slither in and sink its fangs into Ezekiel and drag his life away. She settled on the opposite side of the warrior, to best cover ground and remain alert should any creature dare encroach on their temporary territory. Likely unnecessary, she mused as she let one fingertip trace the shape of the lantern, as it appeared all their enemies had accepted their defeat and remained behind in the cold mountains. Comforted by the warmth of the light, she dropped her guard, accepted the fatigue of the arduous journey and tried to fall asleep. She tried. And tried. And then tried some more. But alas, her mind refused to rest and sleep was swatted away. Camila could not forget those dark moments, the crushing loneliness that had nearly extinguished her life before that strange voice arrived. Something had changed, that much she could sense, but just what she could not say. She had been different back then in the mountain, when she had taken charge of the counterattack and driven the monsters of the mountains away. It had been her hands that moved the lantern, her voice that shouted, her actions that saved them both, so then why had it all felt so strange? She could have sworn she watched it all happen from the backrow, saw her body act in a manner that was not her own. What had really happened back there? Was there any way to know? Her spirits, forever by her side, urged her to not dwell on those thoughts too much; when one is placed in such perilous conditions, they said, it is natural to experience massive and abrupt change. Nevertheless, she countered, there was more to it than that and they had felt it as well. She was not the same, far from it. --- Morning came, Ezekiel stirred from his slumber and initiated conversation. She had not managed a wink of sleep, but felt oddly refreshed and full of strength. She began to pack what little they had in their possession, her mouth cracking open with a smile at his question. “I think it was the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life…and also the only thing with meaning.” She picked up the lantern, its light faint compared to the rays of the rising sun. “I can’t say I’d like to repeat it exactly as it happened, but this is not the end for me.” She turned away from him, spoke quietly as she bent down to fold up her sleeping mat, “I am no longer her. She will never come back.” With her items neatly arranged, she turned her eyes, just a tad cloudy, to meet his. “It would be nice though, to return home. I think I have made people worry about me.”
  9. [Ravenspire] Finally.

    Helena abstained from any alcoholic beverage offered by the circulating help, opting instead for a glass of water each time she was offered anything to drink. The acidic taste of alcohol was much too pungent for her delicate taste buds, the receptors of her tongue only positively responding to substances that contained an excessive amount of sodium ions. She could stomach bitter and sour tastes, a bit of the savory kind, but absolutely detested any and all sweetened items. Tea time, served to the high court ladies of Renovatio mid-afternoon, was torturous for the princess; she sipped her tea slowly and infrequently, letting the liquid cool to room temperature and purposely discarding the foul brew the moment the courtiers stood to partake in the daily stroll over to the palace gardens. It was all for show, and Helena played her part beautifully, all of the sake of keeping her status—and opportunities—in good standing with the powerful lords that adored to watch her frolic about from their high tower offices. It was imperative she kept up the charade of idle and content doll, should she ever wish to obtain the power needed to unearth a dead country. It was an overly ambitious and far-reaching dream, but the idea had punctured and burrowed itself into her heart ever since she was a child and continuously refused to crumble and die. She lived her pretend life only for that one opportunity to make her ancestors proud—to resurrect the cities, the roads, and the people that once inhabited their land. She’d do anything for that once chance to make it all happen, and if drinking disgustingly sweet tea each day and listening to mindless dribble was going to help her achieve her goals, then by all the damnable gods she was going to do it. She sipped the clean and refreshing water gingerly, her green eyes slowly scanning the occupants in the room once more. Some new creatures had come, the others remained the unchained animals they were, and others disappeared from view completely. She was just about done observing from her corner when a most massive and peculiar of beasts crossed towards her space, interrupting her plan to mingle with some of the more trained guests. In response to what she assumed was an attempt at conversation, Helena smiled ever so slightly, set her glass aside and raised her head to meet the eyes of the titan. My, my, what a big head you have.
  10. [Ravenspire] Finally.

    Helena watched the festivities unfold, her mouth twisted into a bemused smile. From the corner of the room she had temporarily claimed as her own, the princess (of a dead country) watched the most peculiar of individuals go about the room, almost all of them exhibiting the traits of circus animals as opposed to those of honored guests at a royal wedding. It could be, she supposed, that this was the current norm, and she—as a former prisoner of war kept away from the outside world for so long—was just ignorant of the new ways of the world. But alas, whatever the reason, she was pleased to have been invited, if only to momentarily escape the serene palace that housed her dull existence. Ever since the collapse of her homeland and her adoption into House Eloheim of Renovatio, Helena lived the life of a breathing doll, pampered and put on display to be admired. Her pale green hair, the unnatural color she had inherited from her mother’s alleged merfolk heritage, was brushed over a hundred times each morning, leaving the tendrils soft and shiny, falling down to her mid-back. Her translucent skin, another trait acquired through her maternal ancestors, was saturated with special oils and creams, which kept the flesh smooth and free of blemishes. She was dressed only in the finest of cloths, though she preferred the simple gowns that left her arms bare and traveled straight down the length of her lithe body, as the noble women of her country were known to have preferred. She was given an extensive collection of jewelry, used rarely, as she favored the golden bracelet gifted to her by the aging Rosinderian king only days before her homeland was torn asunder. She spent most of her days surrounded by courtiers, idling chatting, drinking sweetened tea and bored beyond tears. Though strange indeed, she had witnessed ample shenanigans from her darkened corner to find the whole thing rather amusing, enough to loosen her mouth into a genuine smile. It was likely her unsupervised time would soon come to an end, but until that unfortunate eventuality, she was going to keep watching, judging, and idly flickering the bracelet that always circled her wrist.
  11. Valentina's journal.

    Entry #300: Dad has finally agreed to let me begin a preliminary construction of a mechanical servant, a feat he claims should be easily accomplished by the end of summer, if I am his true daughter. He likes to challenge me with little quips like that, ever since I was little, and despite my seventeen years, they still get under my skin! He’ll see, I’ll make the best servant he has ever seen. He suggested I start small, but that just won’t do; I need something big and strong that can carry all the boxes of gifts I have bought over the course of our travels. I may have been born with the Nexula intellect, but sadly my strength is almost nonexistent. Speaking of which, I wonder how Duncan is doing. We still communicate often through short messages, but Dad’s business keeps him from Ignatz, and I doubt I will get to see him anytime soon. In any case, he seems to be doing well, but I still am so anxious to see him again! I’ve dropped a couple of hints here and there of how I feel, but he either is too dense or is actively ignoring them! Or perhaps I am not being clear enough? I should probably just say it outright. And why not? True, we haven’t seen each other in two years, but we talk every day, and our connection is true. I ought to be more bold, more forward—I mean, what do I have to lose? Entry #301: I completely lost my nerve, and did not confess my feelings to Duncan yet. After careful consideration, I decided that such a momentous event must be done in person! Who doesn’t want to remember every vivid detail of that moment, looking at the man you love and seeing his reaction AND of course getting the appropriate response back? I decided instead to start bugging Dad about coming home to Ignatz in the next couple of months. He is a hard man to convince, but if anyone can, it is his one and only daughter. I’ll be sure to work extra hard in the next upcoming weeks to ensure he is more mendable to my request! Entry :310: FINALLY, Dad has agreed to let us stop by Ignatz for a few days. He does have some business there, not too urgent, but enough to warrant a visit. Besides, we haven’t seen Max in such a long time and I miss him terribly. We ought to get him a pet to care for while we are away, I hate to think of him all alone in that big mansion. I was going to tell Duncan of my visit, but I decided it will be so much better to surprise him. I can’t wait to see him, and give him all the things I have bought him! Hopefully he won’t think they’re too much; it is only like what, seven or ten boxes? I lost count actually! Well, either way, I’m just glad to be visiting home!
  12. For Joyeuse.

    Atticus was none too pleased by Christian’s encroaching ways, the man’s shoulder pressed up intimately against his master, as if the two shared something beyond their common goal. Huffing and puffing, the proud lion stationed himself right in front of the intruder, ready to pounce should he get any more clever little ideas. Not on the mighty Atticus’ watch, no sir. Charmaine, delighted by Christian’s presence, settled up comfortably against him, though she straightened some at the mention of a possible lead into the mystery of Joyeuse. “Truly? And another item you said? Like Joyeuse? Or something different?” Her heart galloped in her chest, but Christian did not elaborate on any details of the message or messenger, leaving all additional inquiries stuck in her throat. She supposed there would be time for that later, perhaps in a more private setting, in case anyone nearby had a case of the eavesdropping ear. Already well-attuned to Charmaine’s endless appetite, Christian motioned a waitress over to take their entrees, at long last. The noble struggled to decide between the featured duck and roast dishes, and was ultimately freed of her dilemma by the kind waitress who offered to reduce the size of the dishes and offer her both for a fair price. Pleased and excited, Charmaine turned her attention back to the table, where the current topic revolved around Auberon’s recent adventures. As the waitress made her way around the table and engaged Auberon in conversation, Charmaine shifted her head slightly and placed her lips near Christian’s ear: “After dinner and all, could we talk? I have some questions.”
  13. Something of worth.

    Camila entered the world of shadows, alone and defenseless. She floated there, for however long, void of any sensation or thought, and likely would have remained as such were it not for the faint whisper of a voice, rousing her from her catatonic state. The rumble was low and distant, but carried a familiar tone to it, enough to provide the frightened girl with a pinch of hope for some companionship. The whispering continued, but the words were unintelligible to her ears, despite them growing much more pronounced and clear. “He…llo? I can’t understand.” She stood—or at least felt as though she had—and surveyed the darkness for the source of the words. She could see nothing, but the voice continued to speak, louder and louder, though the words retained their foreign origin. “Who are you? What are you saying? Please, help. I am stuck here. I don’t know…I don’t want to be here. I need to go back. I can’t stay here. Can you help me? I beg of you, whatever it takes, I will do to leave this place. Let me return.” The plea caused the voice to cease its strange chanting, leaving Camila in solitude and near tears. Before she could dissolve into uncontrollable sobs, the noble felt her body stiffen, shake, and contort in shapes beyond human physiology. She felt no pain during the process, and could not even begin to formulate an idea of what was going on; she was changing, somehow, and that was all she could surmised. The darkness that engulfed her began to shift into more of a gray color, gradually brightened as she saw the first wisps of light start to appear before her. Her body ceased its strange contortions, and she began to recognize the smell of Ezekiel’s sweat and blood, her frail limbs weakly wrapped around his shoulders. Just as she regained her full consciousness, the familiar voice returned for a brief second, but this time she understood it perfectly as it uttered: “As you wish, so it shall be.” Camila awaken, understood the dire situation, and acted in a manner she could have never fathomed weeks earlier. She jumped away from the weakened Ezekiel, grabbed the dangling lantern from its hook, and turned it to the monstrosities chasing them. She held the tattered item in front of her, her dark eyes dark with a strange fury that did not seem indigenous to her character. “ENOUGH!” She shouted, commanding the lantern to perform its duty and blast the creatures into oblivion. In response, the lantern pulsed with light, stronger and brighter than witnessed before, destroying the shadows in one dazzlingly bright attack. Camila, astonished that her spur of the moment planned had worked, stood there, the last of the light still warming her whole body. She may have remained there indefinitely, lost in thought, had her spirits not urged her to tend to Ezekiel, and continue their escape before other creatures took up the pursuit. She ran over to the wounded warrior, placed a hand to his back. “You’ll die soon,” she said, almost unfeeling, perhaps still too dazed to properly process her emotions, “We must go. Can you survive the rest of the trip?”
  14. Something of worth.

    Camila was uttered fascinated by the lantern, its tattered appearance hardly a note in the young noble’s eye. She could feel its warmth, its resilience in the face of darkness, and a touch of something else her inexperience could not place. Her spirits were likewise fascinated by the item, and they too deemed the item to hold enormous potential beyond what the scriptures and legends described. The path that had led them to the lantern turned into cold, hard, impenetrable stone, forcing the pair to seek an alternative route of escape. Left with no choice, the two ventured out into the darkness surrounding the cavern, the pulsing light of the lantern functioning as both guide and source of warmth. Without any prompt, Camila clung to Ezekiel’s back, terrified by the raging malice circling about them, yearning for their blood and life. The howl of the wind prevented her from communicating with Ezekiel, though the warrior spoke some words she only caught in bits and pieces. Something about running, and the lantern leading the way, she gathered, but could not ask for clarification as the shadows intensified around them and frightened enough to turn her mute. Her guardians could do little to ease the girl’s fears, for they too felt threatened by the monsters that followed them. She tried to keep the pace, to focus only on the light that guided them ahead, but it was impossible to not glance here and there, her name on the tongue of the vile beasts that sought to harm her. Camila’s strength, just as the light of the lantern, began to crumble little by little, her pace considerably slower than the one set by Ezekiel. Try as she might to focus, a fog started to form in her mind, disrupting her thoughts and slowing her down even further. She could hear the voices shouting in her mind, all spewing hateful and violent words, promises of pain and death, particularly against the man she had come to depend on for her life. “Ezek…iel…” She called weakly, her little voice breaking. “They’re…calling—in my head. It hurts. They want…you dead and me…something…I’m scared…and…” Camila fell to her knees, the action leaving her in complete and utterly devastating darkness. She could not think, see, walk, talk, move—she was gone, trapped in a world of shadows that only promised suffering.
  15. Valentina's journal.

    [Disclaimer]: These are journal entries for a character mainly involved in a D&D campaign set in Terrenus. I am mainly using this format to develop/explore her feelings, thoughts, and experiences as she grows and eventually journeys throughout the continent. Entries are likely to skip around in time as needed. *** After an exhausting day, fifteen-year-old Valentina Nexula had been ordered straight to bed as soon as she and her father arrived at their main residence, the details of what transpired that day already echoing down the halls of the massive three-story home and straight into the ears of the overly protective Max, majordomo to the Nexulas and an additional father-figure in the young girl’s life. The butler had seen the girl to bed, tucked her in, and promised to hear every detail of her adventure come morning, though he neglected to mention he planned to admonish her foolish behavior and see to it that she never put herself in such a dangerous situation ever again. After a couple of minutes in darkness and silence, Valentina rolled over and reached for the string of her bedside lamp, a gentle pull enough to bring light into the room. She could barely keep her eyes open, but the desire to record her extraordinary day overrode her need for sleep and had her reaching for her journal and pen, always within reach (you never knew when an idea was going to hit you, her father said, it was necessary to always have paper and pen ready). She propped herself up some using a fluffy pillow, selected a new page and quickly began to write all of her thoughts down… Entry #125: Today was something else. I can hardly believe half of what happened, and I’m almost sure come tomorrow morning I’ll wake up and think it all a dream. As planned, Dad and I came to Ignatz early morning, heading straight to the temple with his new invention and because I am not old enough yet, I wasn’t allowed to head in to the negotiation room with any of them. Dad did ask me to try and see if I could help around the temple, which I took as an opportunity to look around, and as luck would have it I came across the most strangest looking of boys. His name is Duncan, he has silvery skin, strange powers and I already decided we’ll be married once we both are old enough, but that’s getting ahead. After doing some minor work at the temple and having a brief and slightly unpleasant encounter with Duncan’s stuffy guardian, I convinced Duncan to show me around city, as it had been so long and I really don’t know the place at all. It was then I spotted some strange looking men near Matilda, which did not vibe well with me. We got closer, and sure enough, some shifty person came OUT of Matilda! I was certain it was one of the crystals that powered her, one of Dad’s oldest and most guarded of technologies. I urged Duncan to help me follow them, because I was sure they had stolen something and we absolutely could not let them get ahead. We tracked one of the shifty guys into one of the shops, where an equally shifty vendor tried to steer us away from what we were looking for. Then, another guy showed up and threatened us! Duncan, in probably what made him start to fall for him, tried to protect me! I didn’t think of it at the time, I was too scared, but that was the most romantic thing he could’ve done. Well, I thought we were goners for sure, but then Duncan emitted this light and from his back two ethereal wings appeared briefly, enough to scare the two assailants away. Duncan fell unconscious, and I feared the worst had happened. Luckily, he came back, a little confused but well enough for us to continue pursuing them because well of course we had to! Thinking back, that probably was not a wise idea. I ought to work on being a bit more cautious. The other dude was kind of fat, so he didn’t get away very far and we managed to find him in one dark and smelly alleyway. His companion was there, and they were talking about some sort of business deal. I decided that we ought to take them by surprise, with Duncan flashing the sword he picked up from the shop and me with the gun that Dad kept stashed away and I took without permission. But we underestimated them, and before I knew it, there was a knife to my throat and Duncan was bleeding. I was sure we were dead for sure, and I just felt so bad for having dragged Duncan along. And then, out of nowhere, another shadow appeared, dressed as a skeleton no less, and took care of the two bandits threatening us. He returned Matilda’s crystal to me, and like that, he was gone. It all happened so fast, I was just so shaken by all of it, I had to rest while Duncan retrieved my gun for me. He came back out looking a little pale, but I suppose it is to be expected. We were luckily found by some temple guards and brought back safely. Dad and I had a little talk, and he agreed to let me keep the gun, even mentioned we could upgrade it together so that is something I’m really looking forward to! Duncan and I got to talk, and he agreed to stay in contact with me while I traveled and he continues to study. Though I honestly think he would make a better warrior than scholar, but maybe he’ll figure that out on his own. Out of the two of us, I think I might be the smarter one. But I am the daughter of a genius after all. In any case, I plan to marry him once we are of age, which gives him a couple of years to realize he wants to marry me as well. I don’t think I’ll have trouble convincing Dad or Max, but that’s another problem for another day.
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