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Raspberry LA

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Raspberry LA last won the day on December 16 2017

Raspberry LA had the most liked content!


About Raspberry LA

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    Inside a haze of Red Bull
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    Tons! I'm very interesting!
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    Crappy desk job

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  1. We're working on it. I'm just waiting on our chairman to make a final call on which of the three ideas we're going with. ?
  2. Sorry guys! I've been out of sorts for a bit; working on moving and relationship issues and stuff, haven't been on much. I do have an idea or two for the alliance thread, @Vansin, shoot me a PM with your ideas, we'll get together.
  3. Here's the organization page for the Order of the Word:
  4. "Hell yeah! That was the most fun I've had since getting stuck with a cursed to-do list. A little fightin', a little lootin', a little amusement park ridin', this is a sweet gig." Iani drained his coffee and plunked the empty cup down on the table. "I like the cut o' yer jib, Captain. Sign me up." Crucible muttered out a bleat from around half a stale donut he'd stolen from the counter. Iani jerked his thumb in the goat's direction. "He says: 'Me too'."
  5. Geography The Temple of the Word is carved directly from the side of one of the huge sheer cliffs typical of the Ouread, which overlooks a large, relatively flat highland plateau. The rock has been shaped to externally resemble a very artistic vision of Gaia, with the heads of a bear, a markhor, and a bison looking out from the stone around her upper body. At her feet is a stone representation of a flowing river; these four symbols represent the four sub-orders from which the Order of the Word was formed. Below the Temple, a city has been built on the plateau. Most of the buildings are double-storied slate roofed houses crafted from stone mined in the higher reaches of the Ouread. The streets are laid out in a very orderly grid fashion; the blocks are clearly defined and grouped into residential, commercial, and industrial zones. The main roads are wide enough for two laden carts to pass each other, while secondary roads are just slightly narrower. A thirty-two foot tall wall stretches across the plateau from east to west, connecting the two cliffs on either side of the city. To the north, the land remains flat until it reaches a trail up into the higher mountains, a treacherous pass known locally as the "Cuada Draconis" (Tail of the Dragon). To the west, the mountain cliffs part slightly, and a pass leading to the lower elevations has been widened and graded by Order engineers to allow access to the rest of the world; from there, roads to Coth and Blairville (referred to by locals as, collectively, "the flatlands") are fairly well maintained. Mountain settlements, some specifically allied to the Order but many not yet, dot the land and become more numerous as the elevation decreases. The eastern mountains are impassable by large groups, but those who know the mountains can find small, dubious paths through the craggy terrain. Organization While more loosely structured than most militaristic religious bodies, the Order of the Word is only "lax" by comparison. From an outside perspective, they are well organized and value promptness and organization (with the exception of some of the older members of what used to be the Perfected Order). A push for open-mindedness and acceptance of all races, cultures, and belief systems has gained considerable ground, and allowed the Order to swell their ranks faster than those that require full conversion to a pre-packaged way of thought. Such a technique would be doomed to fail anyway, given the variety of interpretations of their own religion that exist among the members. Education is also highly valued by the Order. While many subjects have always been taught disparately depending on which sect someone was joining, now new recruits are required to have at least a functional understanding of many things. This includes world history, math, physics, science, engineering, literature, and comparative theology. Once this basic education is completed, a student begins an apprenticeship which specializes their knowledge. Government and Politics Law Actual laws, rather than policies or guidelines, are few and simple, but strictly enforced. In addition to the standard concepts like murder and theft, necromancy is specifically prohibited in Order territory, and they take the same dim view on the undead as traditional Gaianists. The accused are entitled to a trial, to have their story heard if the choose, and to representation. Judgements and sentence are handed down by a randomly chosen jury of five Knights. The death penalty is technically on the books, but typically the harshed punishment meted out is exile. For lesser infractions, things like community service or "meditation" (short term imprisonment to contemplate one's poor choices) are common. Foreign Relations The Order sees unity among all people as the only path back to the Grand Terran empire. As such, all foreign relations begin with diplomacy, in the spirit of finding common ground to come together on. This has led to some odd things, such as the alliance with the citizens of Coth, who follow a religion distinctly opposed to and intended to replace Gaianism. Military Currently, there are about 400 knights in the service of the Order. Among them are engineers, siege weapon operators, tactical (small group) units, medics, scouts, and general infantry. Economy The primary economy of the order relies on mining. Building stone, precious minerals, and gems are quite common in the Ouread, especially in the higher reaches, accessible only to those who know the twisty paths up the mountains. Meat and furs are also frequently sold or traded outside the community. Agriculture is more difficult, so what produce is grown is not exported. Temple City is a net importer of vegetables and fruits. Canon and History Completed Threads The Symbol of Unity History The Order is based on the last spoken word of the martyred St. Zedda. It is believed that at the moment of his death, he was possessed by spirit of Gaia to give a dire prophecy: “To survive the coming darkness, the world must embrace dasuvalda.” The final word was not in any known language. The four priests that were with St. Zedda at the time of his death each came up with a different origin and translation for that final word. Ironically, all four sects agreed that it had something to do with a theme of unity and togetherness, but had a schism over it anyway. Just goes to show how human frailty can muck up even a specific directive delivered by the divine Herself. As the effects of the Terran civil war have stretched even into the remote regions of the Blaurg Mountains, where they were based, the four sects came to believe that this event was precisely the darkness that St. Zedda was warning them about. Ashamed of how their low-key feud had potentially allowed the civil war to come into being, the leaders of each sub-sect reached an agreement to come together. The accord was shaky at first, but after a pair of potential disasters that were only averted by working together without regard for their former sect alliances, the Council has ordered all such references be relegated to the discussion of history. While members may still display the symbols associated with their old order, the official color, black, is the only color allowable when in uniform. The Council is still arguing over an appropriate symbolic representation for their banner.
  6. Here's where my city is: https://imgur.com/a/0TuaO3k
  7. The creaking of timbers and the crashing of rubble drowned out the sound of plinking arrows, which suited Iani just fine until he realized it was the ceiling above his head getting ready to come down on him. He slung his bow over his shoulder and scrambled back out the window, making a joke in his head about cats never knowing whether they wanted to be inside or outside. Electricity began to build around him and his fur stood on end; Iani glanced around and spotted one of the wizards charging up (pun intended) some kind of electrical spell. The panther-kin reached for his daggers, wondering who would win this quick-draw contest, but a commanding voice ricocheted off the stone walls from somewhere back further down the alley. "Let 'em go! Save the saferoom!" The tingly-danger feeling on Iani's skin vanished as the wizard turned his magic towards the building, which was so badly weakened by decay that Silver's bullets had done a little damage than he might have intended. The magic-user began preparing some spell, maybe levitation or rock-control, or maybe he was responsible for conjuring up some take-out for the guys with shovels. Iani didn't care; he flipped his daggers out of their sheathes and activated them, zapping across the air gap and plunging the blades into the soft spot where the wizard's shoulders met his neck. "Always finish 'em off, right boss?" Iani called out as he sprinted down the alley, away from the Mule's men and the saferoom he had so desperately wanted to financially exploit on a large scale. Some other day. --- Iani sipped at a cup of warm coffee as he waited in what passed for a break lounge back at the Elder Company's HQ. Silver would be debriefing everyone shortly, though the list of "everyone" that cared to show up at the debriefing was awfully small - it looked like it was just him and Crucible. Even Godric hadn't arrived yet, though the panther-kin could cut him a bit of slack; he'd taken quite the beating, and might not be feeling good enough to officially hear just how badly they'd mucked everything up.
  8. Sorry about the wait, things have been a bit crazy around here. I have a buncha phone calls to make today, but I'll try to have my post up tomorrow. I'll take us out of the city back to HQ.
  9. “HURK!” Iani was only about half inside the saferoom when the harpoon went off; as gravity did an exit-stage-left, his legs rose into the sky, threatening to drag his upper half back through the window. His claws scrabbled for purchase on the rotten crates and crumbling stone, and while he found nothing substantial, it delayed his ascent long enough that he was still mostly in the cellar when the harpoon’s magic reversed course. His legs slammed into the ground, and he heaved a sigh of relief as he tried to crawl the rest of the way into the dim underground space. But the harpoon was now exerting pressure on his lower body, enough to prevent him from just sliding back down to safety. The process repeated itself a few more times, and Iani was left hanging headfirst, staring at the cellar floor, bewildered at the absurdity of it all. He felt like he was caught in some kind of demonic exercise machine, when all he really wanted to do was skip leg day. Finally, the harpoon ran out of juice, or short circuited, or turned itself off, or whatever, and the panther-kin face-planted into the stone floor. He was spending far too much time in this position today. Thoughts of engaging in the time-tested art of self defense known to some highly-trained Weland monks as Dead-Tiger-On-Ground-Style were rudely pushed from his mind as the war cries of approaching ne’er-do-wells reached his ears. He had people to protect, after all. Sighing, Iani got to his feet and brushed dust off his pants before throwing a second crate on top of the one he’d pushed to the window, getting him up high enough to more-or-less use his bow... so long as he ducked a little and was careful not to let the released string smack him in the nose. An unhappily large number of bandits rounded the corner, some charging with swords, others powering spells, and a couple smart ones like himself taking aim with their own ranged weapons. Those were the ones who needed to be put down fast; the last thing he wanted was to get caught in a plink fight while his compatriots were massacred. His proverbial cold barrel shot was off by a hair, owing to the awkward position of his head and neck; his arrow plinked off the bricks just inches from the nearest archer, causing him to duck back around the corner while his buddy returned fire. A bandit arrow plinked off the block foundation next to the window, and Iani sighed again. He so hated that noise. He fired back, this time making up for his skewed aim by forcing the projectile to split, mid-flight, into a shotgun-like barrage. The seven or eight plinks from the arrows that missed were happily drowned out by the screams caused by the two that hit. With one arrow buried deep in his right thigh and the other jutting out of his draw arm, the wailing bandit spun like crooked top for a three-quarter turn before landing face first on the pavement, which helped to muffle his cries of pain. The poison on the tips of those arrows would finish that job here in just a minute. Iani had really hoped to leave the dumb archer for last, but in his defense, it was hard to tell which was which from that distance. Another arrow plinked off the concrete and skittered wildly into the cellar. Iani cringed. Fuck that noise.
  10. Ok! I'll have something up either today or early tomorrow!
  11. Do we have any idea on how much IC time will be declared to have passed between the end of phase II and the beginning of phase III? I need to update my organization page to reflect the changes that occurred in the thread, but I don't know how much they can get done before the next round starts without a time estimate.
  12. I figured the harpoon was actually a specific thing that did a specific thing... I even searched the lore pages for a description of a giant mechanical humming harpoon to see what it was gonna do! ?
  13. Iani shrugged. "You're the boss!" Another fighter rounded the corner and Iani didn't hesitate; he activated his daggers and closed the distance in a flash, bringing the steel blades down into the man's eye sockets before he even knew what happened. "But that's the kind of thinking that'll get ya a gypsy curse; just sayin'." Overhead, a giant harpoon launched itself into Iani's field of vision. He watched it curiously, muttering something about "overcompensating", until it smashed down into the street. His ears swiveled and he heard a slight humm, something subsonic to humans, just before it became audible. A hero would have used that split second to leap upon the device, soaking up whatever it was about to do and saving his comrades at the expense of his own life. "NOT IT!" Iani shouted as he sprinted back towards the cellar window, making a head-first dive back towards the safe room.
  14. Well this day just kept getting better and better. As the fighting commenced, with the requisite roars of rage and wails of pain, Iani weighed his options. His buddies probably had this one. I mean, they were trained, rough, burly mercenary-types, these rubes were probably a gimme. Plus, he was stuck in a basement with a broken ladder. Nobody could fault him for, ya know, just kinda cheerleading. Right? Crucible nibbled on Iani's pant leg accusingly. "Fine," he grumbled. Working quickly, Iani shoved a mouldering crate up against the wall; from that perch, he could reach the small ground-level window. The whole frame fell out with a few good knocks from his new knuckles, and the brittle glass shattered as it hit the floor. A pair of booted feet stopped in front of the opening; Iani imagined a ruffian looking around for the source of the crash the panther-kin had just caused. Unable to resist the opportunity, he lashed out with one of his daggers, puncturing the leather and injecting an anti-coagulant into the Mule's toady, via the arch of his foot. "Dance, pardner!" Iani cackled, stabbing again. The feet, well, beat feet, and Iani quickly squeezed through the hole, both knives at the ready. A confused young man, who had obviously never seen a bipedal panther crawl out of a tiny basement window before, stared at him. Blood leaked profusely from the boy's ruined boot. Iani had a sudden attack of sympathy. This kid barely had enough facial hair to tickle a lady's thighs. Pinning his ears back, he opened his mouth and let out a fearsome roar, the sound of an angry, hunting jungle cat. Without a thought, the kid took off at the fastest hobble-run Iani had ever seen, and never even glanced back. "Alright! So, who's next?"
  15. Seemed like an easy, smooth way to go with it. ?
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