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Velinquish

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About Velinquish

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    Journeyman

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    Partying with weapons and killing machines

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    JL #8778

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  1. I've been sick the last couple of days so I wasn't able to post. Sorry for the inconvenience :(

    Please continue with the roleplays. You don't have to wait for me.

  2. OOC Queen's Party

    Alright. I'll see if I have time tonight to make a post.
  3. OOC Queen's Party

    I reckon the half-vampires would buy you enough time to make your speech if you want to do it without interruption. What would happen when (if) Jaron returns to the ballroom is yet to be decided.
  4. OOC Queen's Party

    @Mickey Flash Actually, I intended the flight of the assassin to be for another purpose. Everyone just assumed he was trying to escape xD Earlier I mentioned two ancient war machines perched on towers to either side of the palace. Jaron wasn't making an escape, but he was running to one of them in order to get rid of his pursuers. Jaron doesn't give up very easily but he will if he sees that the queen is taken to safety and he can't get to her anymore. If you would like, you can end the party like that or another similar way. If the fight continues, that's also fine with me.
  5. Royal Birth Day

    As Jaron flitted across the staircase, he saw another shadow descending upon him: The Bandit King. It's funny how someone could quickly change from being an asset to an obstacle. I suppose one cannot expect to harness spirits of his kind for very long, he thought to himself. At the same time, he sensed a similar energy behind him, the unique energy of a vampire. One of the guards had sought fit to give chase to him. Suddenly, the Bandit was right next to him, lashing out at his knee. The blade he wielded seemed to shimmer with light. Be it the soft glow of the moon upon the sky's dark backdrop or the brilliance of the brightest jewel of the Sun Temples as the distant star shone upon it, Jaron had never seen anything brighter. With agility that rivaled that of a vampire's, he darted around the outstretched boot and leapt the final steps onto the palace rooftop, where he knew his salvation awaited. But it was not escape he was seeking, but a weapon he was there to collect: a weapon that would almost certainly mean the end of his pursuers if he reached it. It was a shame that the knight decided not to follow him, but for now, he had to settle on the half-vampires. The assassin's inhuman speed and his head start up the stairs would allow him to reach it in time but he knew there was considerable likeliness that he would turn just in time to be struck with a projectile. As fast as the assassin was, haste would ultimately lead to his undoing. Instead, Jaron spun around as soon as his feet touched the roof, giving them no chance to attempt a stab at his back, and drew both of his swords, which systematically unfolded into three feet of cold steel. In the sudden brightness of day and the expelling of darkness within the ballroom, the Bandit's scimitar was black once again, sucking in the light around it as if it were a hole in space. The dual blades of the assassin were the opposite, gleaming silver in the light. "This matter does not concern you," he spoke, giving a warning. The threads of energy around him then snapped into place. Many credited Jaron's effectiveness with a blade to his superhuman speed or strength. Some said it was the speed in which he was able to analyze the battlefield and react upon it. In truth, such things greatly attributed to his combat prowess, but his greatest asset was what only he could see: the energy stretched across the universe, constantly weaving, moving, spinning, turning. His eyes could not only pierce the darkness, but they had the ability to see the very fabric of the universe itself. With it, he could tell whether a man's energy was going to carry him forward or bring him to a stop, or if a man was tensing for a quick strike from the arm or readying to sweep his feet from under him. These, of course, were no men, and Jaron had to treat them as such. The assassin noted the vulnerable position they were in, one behind the other on a rather narrow staircase. He also noted their shifts in energy, and prepared to act upon their response to his words. If they chose to underestimate him, the downfall would be theirs.
  6. Royal Birth Day

    Jaron was discovered. That much was evident from the pouncing panther and the flying daggers. The man to whom they belonged was the very man who had foiled his last attempt on the queen's life. He stood in front of her on one knee, having took Jaron's daggers for her. He would soon lose a lot of blood and would likely fall unconscious before anyone could discern who his target was. Jaron knew not who else had the gift of sight in darkness but he knew he had to get out before their eyes fully adjusted. The sudden flash of light around him caused Jaron to flinch, but he knew it would work in his favor and blind those who needed a longer time to adjust. He saw the knight who provided it at his side, inquiring about his technique. Before Jaron answered, he shoved him out of the way before rolling out of the daggers' path himself and coming up on his feet. It was the guard who had been questioning the crowd earlier. He saw in him a dauntless, reckless energy. Before he could do anything rash, Jaron began to speak. Deceit is an art that can be perfected. There were those who were better at it and those who were lesser. However, even the greatest liars in the world have a difference between their truths and their lies, however noticeable they turn out to be. But when Jaron spoke, he spoke earnestly, as if he wholeheartedly believed his own words. There were no threads of nervous or deceitful energy about him. It was as if the vivid world of his imagination was becoming reality, but the assassin only needed to convey the few words that he would have conveyed had such a world had indeed been true. Jaron's eyes flicked toward the man in annoyance and spoke under his breath, "I'm a representative from an assassin's guild but I did not come here to assassinate Queen Malia. One of our own has betrayed us and he is here. I'm here to hunt him down. I care not about the Queen's affairs and whether or not she survives this ordeal." Jaron cast a wary eye at his surroundings. "We need to speak in a more private area. It's too dangerous here and we must act quickly if we are to intercept the assassin." He spotted a golden staircase toward the side of the room, glowing dimly in the darkness. It would take him to the roof of the palace if he were to follow it. Without waiting to see if the knight would follow, he headed toward it.
  7. Royal Birth Day

    Out of the darkness they came: a flurry of shadowy blades detaching themselves from the shadows upon the floor. Silhouettes just as real or deadly as a soldier's spear or an assassin's dagger. The woman elementalist he had been observing earlier now radiated strong, dark energy. It was the type of energy that did not seem real: a phantom power not of this realm. It was the energy of the undead. When she left the queen's side, the air filled with overwhelming sadness and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. Jaron saw a flicker of black across the edge of his vision and instinctively pivoted his feet into a fighter's stance to face the threat. That was when he remembered his mission and silently cursed himself. With not a moment's hesitation, he arranged his expression into one of surprise and attempted to sidestep the flying blade, but he was too late. And he knew it. The weapon would hit his shoulder if he did not get out of the way in time. Quick as lightning, a dagger appeared in Jaron's hand and disappeared just as quickly. The phantom sword was deflected with a soft clang and it clattered to the ground in front of him. Then it melted back into the darkness whence it came. He doubted anyone would pay attention or hear anything with the screaming and whatnot but he wondered if it would have been better to simply take the blow to the shoulder. His thoughts had only gone thus far when all light was sucked out of the castle. Then the world went still. Time stood in its place. There was not a breath of wind or even a tiny flicker of energy. The entire plane of reality was frozen. Jaron's vision had never been clearer than here, in the deepest depths of darkness. Something ancient had awoken inside Jaron: the primordial instinct of hunters. He saw the strands of power in mid-action, whipping all over the room. He saw the lords and ladies with their mouths open in mid-scream as dark blades were plunged into their chests. He saw the queen, drawing upon the powers of the shadows to protect her people just as the shadows were becoming still once more. He saw the guard that was grabbing her to carry her away to safety. But nowhere in the world would she be safe from the assassin. Not a second after the darkness, before any eyes could adjust, twin blades were flying toward the queen, one to her leg and the other straight at her heart. The daggers would undoubtedly be discovered later. They were the very same daggers that Jaron had flashed into the air to deflect the shadows and if anyone had seen Jaron's little performance, he would be held responsible and questioned. But he was not worried, for his was a silver tongue and he knew how to lie. Exactly two seconds after the darkness, Jaron was in the same position he was before, his face a mask of shock and fear and his pose was that of a cowering noble. It had always pained Jaron to play the common coward but what was necessary was necessary. His aim was true and the steel that he wielded was trustworthy. He only needed to wait and see what came out of his efforts as time flowed once again.
  8. Royal Birth Day

    Jaron watched helplessly as the metal orbs flew over his head, brilliant, masterly-crafted weapons coming to waste as they collided into a hunk of metal. Threads of energy shot out from the gauntlet covering the newcomer's hand and pulled the together. Jaron could only crouch down like the other gentlemen in the room and try not to get hit by one of the spheres. Jaron moved his hand to his coat pocket and tried to aim the last sphere at the strange man just before it joined the rest, but it was nearly hopeless with the weapons spinning and whatnot. With feverish concentration, he flipped the switch. But it was too late. The sphere was crushed, shattering the delicate mechanisms within. He thought he saw a tiny hole spiral open just before it hit, a tiny black dot against a backdrop of silver. Perhaps it was merely his imagination. In any case, no poisonous projectiles ever took flight. The assassin's frustration appeared in the form of of a web of intertwining red lines creeping over the edge of his vision, but his face betrayed no vestige of anger. If anything, it only showed the unease of a man who just had a close brush with deadly weapons, what with the assassination being announced and the silver contraptions flying over his head. This assassination was never going to be easy, but the raw magnitude of power at the queen's disposal was almost too much. He considered his options. He could send the deadliest venom known to kings through the water supply at the cost of lives that had no part in the mission. High above, the Twin Blood Moon Crossbows awaited his order. If given, everyone in the room would surely die. Almost everyone, that is. The third, more traditional option, was to get close to the queen. He had after all, the tools of his trade. Such a feat would be difficult with her guards watching like hawks but it would certainly be better than the first two options. Priorities, Jaron chided himself. There were sure to be people looking for the man to whom the spheres belonged. It would be easy enough to avoid them unless they had further magical abilities that he did not know about. With that sudden thought, he realized another energy was filling the room. A dark energy taking over the shadows. Controlling them. A mage. He did not know whose side the shadow-bender was on but he had to be cautious. The assassin knew he could leave at any time, but he did not simply fail a mission. He would leave when the queen is dead. Jaron decided what he must do. A decoy. The party was never simply a celebration. It was a political opportunity. If the newcomers can get an audience from the queen, so can he. But he would not introduce himself as a noble or king. He needed to introduce himself as someone with something to offer, such as information. Information, perhaps, about poison within the castle walls and the most powerful weapons in the world waiting to massacre them. His client, the man with the golden mask, never gave him the poison to use directly against the queen. Nor did he erect the powerful automatic crossbows as a weapon to kill the queen. But they could certainly still be used as a weapon to any who dare attempt to approach it and take it down. It was also a means of bargaining, for both an audience with the queen and his life. The question was, who to go to? One man was searching the crowd, for Jaron undoubtedly, though he would need to be very lucky to pick out a wary and watchful assassin from a crowd of people. Perhaps he could bring him to a guard with higher authority. First, however, he would need to get to know the man before deciding that he was the right choice. Jaron started casually walking over to the area from where the man pulled aside a noble. If he could get close enough, he would be able to observe the knight.
  9. OOC Queen's Party

    I'm sorry I wasn't posting recently. I was waiting to see the political side of the party, as I'm kind of interested in that. I will make my next move when I'm ready.
  10. OOC Queen's Party

    Honestly, I'm having a bit of trouble coming up with ways to attack the queen xD But fear not; I'll come back to you in a little bit with my newest scheme ;)
  11. Royal Birth Day

    If a situation could be taken advantage of in any way, Jaron made it his job to find it. When a young lady left the queen's side to pick up the sphere he left on the ground, he remained calm. The weapon, after all, couldn't be traced back to him by any normal means. However, now, he was more wary of the abilities of those in the queen's employ. He sensed that she recognized the poison for what it was before she picked up the weapon; it is unusual to go poking around under discarded handkerchiefs. A woman who can detect poison. Jaron was suddenly glad that he left the vial of the stuff in the fountain from where the servants served cups of water—water that would turn to venom with a flick of a switch. A switch stitched into his left coat pocket. He couldn't help enjoying the ability of holding the lives of others in his hands. Very simply, he could take a life or spare one. If the woman carries the sphere a little closer to the queen, her life would be his to take without any bystanders getting in the way. Even an assassin can have a code of honor and his was to avoid killing onlookers wherever possible; there is a fine line between assassination and murder. But there were exceptions. There were five small controllers in his left coat pocket: three for each of the spheres and a fourth for the poison. The fourth he decided he would not use unless his options became too limited. The fifth controller, the last, he decided he would not use unless his life was in grave danger. One that he would not use unless everyone in the room had to die. When the goblin guard ran up to the woman—and with noticeable haste at that, Jaron realized he recognized the poison too. The queen has chosen wisely with her guards. He decided he should wait and see what they would do about the weapon. If they took it too close to the queen, her death would follow soon thereafter. If they threatened to destroy it or seek out the other weapons, it was their death that would follow. Very subtly, the energy around the room changed. It was the energy of the calm before the storm. Chaos was drawing nigh. Of this, Jaron was certain. High above, two great, mechanical, rapid-fire crossbows were positioned on either side of the palace: true feats of engineering. Embossed on each was a single rune. The language of the ancients could not be directly translated into the common languages of today, but if it the ancients had written in English, it would have read Blood. The other would have read Death. For these, the great beasts were yearning for. The iron bolts that they held were hungry for it. The strings that would launch them at every hint of movement whispered the names into the air. A storm of destruction waiting to be released with the flip of a single switch.
  12. OOC Queen's Party

    Jaron himself doesn't know this, but the poison was chemically created. The poison is also of an extremely fast-acting variety that would kill a person in ten seconds no matter where it hits on the body. This he does know. But Jaron also holds a vial of poison (the one mentioned in the first post) taken from a rare and poisonous flower. With one drop, the victim could feel nothing until he (or she) goes to sleep, after which they will never wake up again. But unlike the dart poison, it does have a cure, though it's impossible to tell if someone is poisoned from the outside. Would you like me to name everything he has done and set up that's not mentioned in the posts or should those remain unknown until later?
  13. Tavern of Legend OOC

    @SquirrelMonkey Would you like to make a closing post?
  14. Royal Birth Day

    Jaron had been taking his time, carefully assessing his situation. When the young ruler made her grand entrance into the ballroom, he stopped and studied her, as many around him were doing. She had, after all, shown her face for the very first time. Her ears, like those of her people, were pointed. Despite the attire of a royal, inside, she had the soul of a warrior. Faint threads of energy connected her to the magicians around the room. Jaron allowed himself a smile at this—it would allow him to tell the warriors apart from the rest more easily. What he missed, however, were the even fainter threads connecting her to every single person in her surroundings. Perhaps if they had caught his eye, he could have predicted one of the abilities that made her dangerous. She seemed amazingly calm considering her circumstances; her face betrayed no signs of unease. This was a gift that she shared with the assassin. Yet, her energy told a different story. It was tense, as if ready to pull her into action at any moment. Jaron liked to compare his assassinations with war. The room may be decorated for celebration and an evening of joy, but beneath it all was a silent battle of wits. When it happened, he realized he had just lost the first fight. Jaron had been taking his time, carefully assessing his situation. Now he regretted his lack of haste. It happened one second before he rigged the weapon. But he sensed it the second before it occurred; a growing energy in the room that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. It was an energy that he had seen time and time again, yet never lost its effect on him. It was a fiery energy: the energy of great power. That's when the explosion happened. A boom resounded throughout the room. Jaron immediately pivoted to face the source of sound just as he let go of the handkerchief. The bystanders were in shock, frozen in place. The guards came out of their confusion a little bit quicker and stepped toward the hole in the wall that the explosion had caused. The little white handkerchief fell to the ground, unimportant and inconspicuous. He reckoned that any man in the room holding a handkerchief would have dropped it at the sudden burst of noise. But unlike all the other handkerchiefs, it fell silently over a metal sphere the size of a tiny marble ball connecting to the fabric. If he had been prepared, it would have been the perfect time to fire the weapon. He missed an opportunity to take advantage of a distraction, and possibly the best distraction that would ever occur in this room at that. But he couldn't dwell on such things. When the announcement came, he feigned relief, putting on the expression for the sake of blending in with the bystanders in the Silent War. He continued on through the room, discretely leaving spheres hidden in ordinary items so that they had a line of sight to every hidden corner or shadowy nook. He dropped one to the bottom of a bowl of pastries when nobody was looking. The last he dropped in the form of a thick coat button made of gold, such as the ones that were on the clothing of nobles. But these were no ordinary items: the weapons (for weapons they were), each contained one poisoned dart that could punch through plastic and if necessary, flesh and bone. Each were controlled by three tiny remotes stitched into Jaron's coat pocket. He did not know how his client had gotten ahold of such technology but he did not seem like a supplier who provided unreliable weapons. Now he was prepared. He only needed to stay out of sight and wait.
  15. Tavern of Legend OOC

    Officially it would be the order in which we post after a set time, such as right now. That would be the posting order until someone new joins. For example, the next person who posts would be the first person in the new posting order. The person who posts after that would be after the previous one in the new posting order. This means we have one round when we can post whenever we want and that would set the floor for all the rounds after that. This would continue until everyone has posted and the order is set.
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