Jump to content


  • Content count

  • Joined

  • Last visited


About LordYalet

  • Rank

Profile Information

  • Location

Recent Profile Visitors

579 profile views
  1. LordYalet

    The ever-crumbling palace

    I won't be able to post this time, sorry, but I am quite busy. Skip my turn and I'll post next time!
  2. LordYalet

    Blairville chaos event - full!

    The proposal is that he disguises himself as Osmer and get Hurk to spill the beans about what happened to the gobliness. Isidor et al. could follow and join the farce.
  3. LordYalet

    Safe riots and kidnapping

    @Vehement Agony "Said the huge blob of black caramel. Forget to avoid attention, my viscous fellow, at least as long as we go around with you. If inconspicuousness is not our predicament, then at least we can avoid a third party with clear interest in our target to simply walk away unscathed, eh?" Those were the last words that Sharak uttered before plummeting in the alley on the girl's traces. Turns out, it did not take much to reach her, considering she strolled over at a placid pace. @danzilla3 @Akiris "Well, who the hell is this guy? Suddenly everyone's tailing me, as if I did something wrong...", his grin widened and his eyes became narrow slits as he enjoyed the obviously falsity of that statement. He coughed softly and recomposed himself, joining his hands in a shady manner. "Anyhow, you are now staring at a professional mercenary with very little inclination for patience. Lest it suffice to say that people call me Vanyss, and that's how you may address me too, as long as circumstances force us together." He spat out lie after lie with no clear indication of guilt or remorse. Even more, he looked overwhelmingly confident in what he said. Did he actually believe himself sometimes? The assassin was so accustomed at weaving deep fabrications that he often fell prey to those very fibs. Maybe it was the muscular frame, the scarred dark face, the worn-out suit of leather armour he wore so comfortably, the smell of booze, blood and hidden cutlasses... He looked like a mercenary, had little regard for authority, an incredible amount of ego and a considerable skill with fighting. There was no way of doubting those manners and attitude, especially because, deep down, he really considered himself one, on the permanent payroll of the most ruthless bastard of all: himself. When Sharak noticed Agony and Lunara emerging from the same alley he came from, he gestured widely towards the intricacy of streets and roofs that surrounded them. "Worry not, my only interest is that you remain within our eyesight until we end our... business. We do not want interlopers. That same holds for you, prince charming.", he teased the newcomer that materialised out of nowhere for the sake of the tailed girl. Circling his eyes around, he didn't notice anyone of consequence wandering the deserted city. The sky was still dusky since the sun had not risen yet, the air lingered cold against them like an appalling blanket of wetness; on top of that, they were still near the black market, as the girl did not concern herself with running away in haste, thus the only spectators they may have would be as ill-reputable as the whole bunch of triumvirs. Given the time of day and the specific neighbourhood, Sharak could not understand how the girl intended to uphold her accusations, but she was probably just trying to make a point to get them to a place that surely brimmed with people and, more importantly, guards. He shifted slightly towards the other two members of the triumvirate and whispered to them. "Whatever you are thinking, it's obvious you cannot go anywhere without attracting more attention than I have. So you will have to fall behind and let me and these two dimwits handle the situation." The thug stared at them with a bizarre half-grin, so much that he looked on the verge of an serious case of epilepsy. Then a shrill voice emerged from his mouth with murmured grimace "I know what you are thinking scrubs! For the damned gods! The psychopath will have to handle it! We cannot trust him, no no no! Blah blah blah", he sighed and grunted, acquiring his "normal" tone again, "Just cut it. I am a professional impersonator. There are very few individuals I cannot mimic... and goblins surely aren't amongst those. What do you say, my scrounging fellows?" Coughing again, he turned back to the two guests he had been politely ignoring while conferring with his colleagues. Regarding them with a surprised look, as if they appeared before him for the first time, he let out a noise of disappointment. "After all, we will do as you suggest. Have a private conversation and head to the inn. However, I won't be able to personally accompany you. How tragic, isn't it??"
  4. LordYalet

    The ever-crumbling palace

    You can advance the plot as well, just be consistent with what players before you write.
  5. LordYalet

    [Quest] The ever-crumbling palace

    It felt like an eternity. A long, silent, blind, eternity. When his senses came back to him, the first thing Kelnor could notice was a set of sturdy iron bars. They were obstructing the only entrance, and thus the only exit, to the rudimentary cell that trapped them all. The room was probably ten feet across in both width and length, with a layer of solid seamless stone enveloping its every side: the sole opening rested twenty feet above the prisoners' heads, barred by the aforementioned metal rods. He quickly turned around to inspect his surroundings and let out a sigh of relief when he noticed everyone in his party was still alive and well, except for the minor bruises. Apparently, the shadowy creatures did not want to eat, skin, torture or kill them. Yet. They were held prisoners, ignorant as to the exact reason behind the revenants' actions. If their physical confinement wasn't distressing enough, an appalling sensation of oblivion and half-knowledge made their minds hostages as well to their unknown captor. "Glad to see that everyone is still safe and sound. Let's try to mine out some secrets from this... unusual situation." As Kelnor's eyes darted over and about to regard each one of the listeners, his brain unconsciously counted one more head than necessary. Hidden in the farthest and darkest corner of the cell, a man laid down in a disheveled fashion: his skin was pale and his limbs the epitome of thinness; he wore an olive half-torn tunic, which looked more like a ball of rags since he was cuddling himself in a fetal position. The only noise he made was a feeble but steady rustling, probably an indication of a degenerate state of drowsiness induced by a prolonged captivity. When Kelnor rose from the floor to approach their new guest, the latter seemed to sense an unknown activity and unconsciously registered it as harmful, balling himself down even further in an attempt to become utterly inconspicuous. "Fear not, my friend. We are not here to hurt you. As it happens, we are in your same situation. Thus, any help would be immeasurably appreciated.", he gestured towards himself, while lending the other hand to the crooked man in sign of peace, "I am Kelnor, a traveler and seeker of knowledge. Come, stand! Tell us your story." "I...", the stranger gawked over at them with an expression of pure bewilderment. He opened and closed his eyes several times, as to prove to himself he was not hallucinating. "By the gods! I... I thought I would die here! My name is Berek, I am the first scout of Monroe's personal squad. Thanks the heavens! I don't know... how long I have been here. Could be days, or months..." Kelnor felt something about this man's tale was off. He had to ask: "We will remedy to this situation, Berek. However, I cannot help but to feel hesitant about what you said. You mentioned a certain Monroe? Is he an important person?" "My, my! Of course he is, Master Kelnor. Of course! Eustace Monroe, the regent of Hell's Gate! I may be a wreck of a man but I still remember our regent's name." The sage coughed politely and briefly turned back to the others for support, then stated. "Berek, the regent of Hell's Gate is currently one Matthius Brown. Doctor Monroe... disappeared, over three years ago."
  6. LordYalet

    Blairville chaos event - full!

    I will post either today or tomorrow, hang on to your hats gentlemen.
  7. LordYalet

    Power Beckons

    Sharak desperately shook his head in disappointment, sighing uneasily a few feet away from Agony. What is this again? A gentlemen's tea party or a reunion of villains? Maybe I should have turned left instead of right in that forking alley... He then slammed himself onto one of the few chairs that were left intact or at least usable after the ungentle approach of the centauress. The table wept splinter tears at his feet, and he put himself comfortable in a bizarre position, his back resting on top of one padded armrest while his legs were unceremoniously slouching on the opposite side. The only thing that managed to raise his attention was the harsh response of the proud horse-woman to the unwanted courting coming from the pompous individual that called himself the Crest of Dimyrus. Sharak nodded vigorously at her every word, his mute approval being a testament of the one trait the assassin truly respected: power. As long as anyone would fail to prove his worth in pure, brute, unaltered strength - with either fists or wits - Sharak would not kneel, bend or pay respect to them in any shape or form. "You know what really is a liability, my over-mouthed faerie? Boredom." he spoke without any particular tone, in a flat unassuming voice, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the tiny faerie. After a moment of silence, he arched his back to an almost impossible degree, leaning over the armrest he was sitting onto, only to eye the flying thing from his upside-down perspective. Almost returning from an eerie Dream, his expression was now serious and calm, with no hint of his former foolishness - which surely would be resting unobserved quietly under the surface, waiting for yet another occasion to emerge. "You know, that...", he pointed to Ker, "I can respect.", yet it was unclear whether he was rather referring to the centauress or to her massive hammer. @jaistlyn [Sorry for the short reply :(]
  8. LordYalet

    Blairville chaos event - full!

    I know the risks, I am just respecting the character as I created him. That's how he behaves. Besides, it would be much more interesting with some conflict, right?? Anyway, we were all in a shady alley in the early hours of the morning and the only one who saw us so far is Vita. So I am not concerned about that so far. If troubles come, Sharak may decide either to take them upfront, or to disguise himself as someone else and stay low, depending on his mood at the moment. He is veeery volatile.
  9. LordYalet

    OoC I: The Abbadon Triumvirate

    When I think of Agony, I think of this: @Vehement Agony
  10. LordYalet

    Blairville chaos event - full!

    The point is still the same: don't get caught. It differs slightly from all other villainous actions. I don't see the problem anyway. Sharak is a greedy bastard to whom murder and theft are tools to his own satisfaction. I don't think any legislation, however intricate, would make him budge from that standpoint.
  11. LordYalet

    [Quest] The ever-crumbling palace

    "My dear dwarf, I sincerely think the eastern one is the most bizarre of all, for one would expect some kind of noise or action to come from any gate, in whichever arbitrary way: yet that one does not offer even the slightest cue to my silver-enhanced senses. To that end, I think it is specifically fashioned for us to follow, which may be either the wisest or the most foolish choice at the same time." As he neared the end of his explanation, Kelnor suddenly acknowledged that no one in the room - save for himself - had the faintest notion of Yon and its metal; thus he quickly dropped a hint of his abilities, so that his companions could grasp the kind of skill-set he brought to the party. "I weave magic through metal affinity, an art by the name of Yon. Silver is the fifth Yon metal: it makes senses more keen. Perhaps you would like to hear more about this amazing mastery, but let's postpone the sharing of reciprocal knowledge after we get a solid grasp of the mystery around this marvel of shifting sand." The sage strode cautiously towards the three gates as he spoke, weaving words the same ways he wove spells. He burned zinc, the metal of healing and creation: thanks to its shaping powers, a gleaming die of polished material appeared within a thin sparkling mist in the center of his up-facing right hand. Cupping both his hands together, he gently shook it and threw it ahead. The die bounced few times before finally stopping on the hard dusty surface of the ancient floor: an intricate compass rose was drawn in gold finery over the top-most face, clearly highlighting the East direction with an additional platinum flowering. Kelnor sighed and shrugged, his shoulders leaning a bit lower in disappointment, staring blindly at the halo of the fading die. "Ultimately, I let the fate choose for us and it seems to agree with Wendolyn and me. Albeit, we still ignore whether it is for better of for worse. But let's linger no more and proceed post-haste, as Desmond may be right on the timing of our chances!" The group hurriedly moved to the eastern portal, leaving the starting room to their backs. As soon as the whole lot was through, the sand shifted again and plastered the former opening with seemingly impenetrable stone. They were now plunged into a dark narrow corridor, no more than eight feet across in both width and length. The air stank of foul vileness, a dusty testament of centuries worth of rotting and aging; no sound or motion could be heard, for the air was still as a painted ship on a painted ocean. Kelnor sensed an appalling persistent dread steadily rising in himself, thus he felt like breaking the tense atmosphere with a bit of conversation. It would strengthen their bond and prove a worthy source of information about the others' capabilities. So, what do you fellows do for a living? He spoke casually, but no words came out of his mouth. What the heck? He tried to speak again, yet another time, no sound could be heard. I am completely sure my vocal chords are unharmed and in good shape, so how is... Ouch! A stinging pain in his shoulder prevented him from reaching the end of the thought. A second later, Kelnor realized he had fallen on the ground, hitting hard against the cold stone floor. How is this possible? I was just walking a second ago... Fighting to throw himself back up was an harsh endeavor, for he could not feel anything underneath his hands. It was as if something... or someone... robbed him of all his most important senses: his eyes only pierced to an endless shroud of blackness, his ears did not catch even the slightest hint of his own voice, his body could not grasp any vibration or contact. Despite the subtle theft of surely arcane origin, the stench of rotting was still strong within his nostrils, and he could still perceive the vague direction of gravity and his other limbs with respect to the floor. Caught unprepared by the abrupt disappearing of his vital senses, he started to feel powerless. To counter the helplessness that quickly tried to seep into his heart, he flared gold, the sixth Yon metal, which is able to dampen or counter the effect of external magic. At the same time, he also flared silver and for a brief moment, everything was bright as day, then the oppressing cape of ignorance fell unto him again as hard as a mallet on the anvil of a smith. However fugacious, he was able to get a glimpse of what was happening around them: a dozen nondescript beings of darkness, wavering mists in the shade of black and gray, were quickly apprehending them; with the apparent intention of bringing their preys in some more recondite place.
  12. LordYalet

    Blairville chaos event - full!

    The problem is that, lore-wise, my character simply does not care. The misuse of magic is probably the least important accusation law enforcement can carry against him. What may be of more consequence is whether a system exists now that allows to remotely identify unauthorised magic. But, as I understand, without the chip you willingly chose to implant, there is no way easier than the common investigation methods. Correct?
  13. LordYalet

    [Quest] Forsaken hope

    I think this is gonna be no more. No one else joined. I'll keep the idea and maybe write something on my own. Now I am taking part in a number of other quests so I cannot look after this too.
  14. LordYalet

    Blairville chaos event - full!

    What do you mean?
  15. That opening paragraph by itself had me a-chuckling