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BiggieSmalls

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About BiggieSmalls

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    Dungeons and Dragons(5th Edition), Roleplay, Pirates, Literature, Editing Literature, Debating People, Anime, Manga, Horror, Mystery, Podcasts

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  1. BiggieSmalls

    Missionary Positions (Prometheus Initiative)

    Biggie, posting so that he can do two things in here. This is mostly Danzilla's thing, even if I started the PI, so I want to leave most of it to him. Consider me partially in the order, but if there's nothing I can really offer up to post, I'm gonna happily just watch how Issac does business, and listen in on the rest of you, so that I can work on magic item designs for you guys to do this healstuff better than you'd be able to without. Hope you all don't mind!
  2. BiggieSmalls

    Devising a Pantheon - Hades

    The poor kid was still boyishly optimistic in his hopes and dreams, but optimism was just another word for idealism, as he'd heard from a friend. The young man kept his back to the assassin, a potentially fatal mistake, and looked out the window of his own little building. His fingertips reached out, and touched at that glass, a gentle, hardly-tangible touch that drifted his fingertips down the glass. A ghost of a touch, barely able to influence the world outside of the window in any way, besides starting to push the boundary between him and it. It was the beginning of it, and this tender world, not yet ready, would be dragged kicking and screaming into the future if he had to break his fingers just to grasp a hold of it. A deep breath rocked the young man's core, as he waited for the assassin to speak to him, to work with him, or against him. Putting his neck out on the line like this was a thrill he wouldn't want to experience again anytime soon. He listened, however, to something unexpected. Someone who agreed with him and was willing to work with him. Someone who desired to put his experience to good use, to help protect the people by hunting down threats to the peace. "Counter-terrorism is primarily what I wish to make use of. Counter-terrorism, surveillance, and ferreting out the people who would be the most dangerous when targeting the people whom I wish to work with, and the industries I plan to rennovate. To say... Hunter might be a little excessive, I suppose." Laughing awkwardly, Karilius finally turned from the world he planned on changing, now facing Litalis head-on, and offering the elder elf a small smile. "It's a callous thought, but ferreting out enemies and targeting them, protecting the people from criminals through the careful handling of targets requires a very particular skill set, and I don't have any skill in it. I plan to use government contracts, hunting down criminals and working with city and federal organizations in order to protect stability and balance. As well as through the reinitiation of the Safeguard Acts, albeit in a new form, I plan to do what I can to make the job easier for you. Protective duties might occasionally be necessary, though I plan to create an organization specifically to protect the people as well, in the hopes of, well... Providing protection to groups. Hades... Is a little more specific in its needs. Ferreting out targets, hitting them quickly and with surgical precision, and protecting the people through aggressive bounty hunting of criminal targets, would be more accurate. If you could organize a group to help, we would have a great start to this... It certainly does set my mind at ease to know that you'd be happy to work with me." Karilius brought a hand to the back of his head, and scratched it lightly, his fingertips digging into the back of his head as he let an awkward laugh resonate from his chest. "I'm not sure I would know anyone else who could help me with this... It's, uh, not in my social circle to know such things, or my studies."
  3. BiggieSmalls

    Devising a Pantheon - Demeter

    The poor mage had no way of reading a gorilla's body language, it was so inhuman compared to his own. And thus, when he offered a single cup of earl grey to the ape, it was turned down with all of the disdain and disgust the ape seemed capable of mustering. Which was still not exactly easy to read for the man, whose gaze slowly became less focused, and more confused, the longer he looked at the ape. Nope. This wasn't getting him anywhere. Karilius took his own tea, since Barnebus didn't want it, and took a long, slow sip, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the situation unfurling before him. However, reading the frustration on the human woman's face was far easier, and as he finished his spiel about what he'd been looking for, he could tell her frustration had reached its boiling point. His tea was still in hand, held firm to prevent anything from spilling over. And when she broke into a face reserved for a hated enemy over this mere business meeting, his expression mellowed in response. And then began the tirade. Something he'd heard a million times before. As the woman began to explain her disgust with the contemptuous state of the city, Karilius placed his tea down on the table. While she accused him of not listening, she seemed to do the same, laboring over the fact that this was a business intended to build up everyone through economic opportunity, rather than handouts, which would eventually run dry. Slim, calloused hands folded across his lap, and he merely let her speak her piece, treating him like some manner of disgusting maggot that you didn't deign to allow a place on the underside of your boot. All things considered, the fact that she'd called him insecure, and tried to accuse him of not caring about the people would have resulted in him laughing in her face, had he not found it in him easily enough to put aside her flushes of rage. "I apologize for trying your patience. It certainly isn't my intention to make you feel belittled, Miss, I merely have a habit of rambling to myself about potential business ideas, and allowing the ideas to flow freely. I hope you understand it's part of my creative process, after all." Her insults seemed to have found no purchase, and he merely reached out to grab at his tea mug, and brought it to his lips. He started to count in his head, one number after another, with a pause of "one thousand" between each one. When he finished five-one-thousand in his head, he lowered his mug once more, and looked up at her. "I'm glad to see that you're passionate, but passion lone doesn't allow a business to thrive. Just like mere handouts won't allow the people to thrive. Homelessness and starvation are important issues in this city, but merely creating food to hand it out is a temporary solution, one that will, inevitable, collapse whatever organization attempts to take it on head-on. I'm glad that you want to care for the civilians, I am... But it's a cheap technique. I ran the numbers, and attempting to feed and shelter every individual in Terrenus to provide their basic needs without economic input from them back into the system, rather than under its tables, will result in a failure to maintain costs within approximately fifty-three weeks, a little over a year. Which might seem extensive, but provides no stability, even for an organization like mine. It's a band-aid to a problem that requires disinfectant, and acting like it isn't, like it's something simple and easy that can be solved with a surplus of food alone is optimistic. Your ideas are grand, and your ideals are wonderful... But if you merely take this by creating a surplus of food, you have to remember that you're also driving the prices of food down for producers, which lowers their income, which prevents them from raising above their station, and creates a society where the illiterate and low-class will forever be just that, due to an inability to save up money. If you want to create an overproduction of all materials, then you've destabilized the market for the workers, which will result in the same economic disparities rising up. Which is why my goal isn't merely to facilitate these individuals by decreasing costs, but instead by increasing quality and availability not through only handouts, but through providing jobs to the people in the form of magewrights, simple mages with simple techniques not at all applicable for combat purposes but instead for the creation of an industrial mage class, which I plan on adopting those lower-income people into, to allow for them to thrive emotionally, physically, and economically. It's a slower progression, but it's one that, if I can do it right, will stick for the people." Having spent a good time speaking, Karilius once more brought the mug of warm tea to his lips, sipping on it, and soothing his dry tongue with its wet warmth. "But I would ask you to do something for me, please." The peaceful smile, the calm, rational analysis faded, for but an instant. Those golden eyes flared, and he found his snowy white hair, long as it was, unable to hide his contempt, and the slowly boiling rage inside of him. "Never accuse me of not believing my own cause. Putting words in the heart of another, let alone their mouth, is not only disrespectful, but slanderous. It is a crime the likes of which should not be overlooked, because it easily inflicts distrust towards someone attempting to do good. I sacrifice my physical health and well-being to help these people, and am smart enough to understand that I cannot do it all on my own, that there aren't enough hours in the day to accomplish my multitude of goals. If I were this greedy person you try to paint me as, I would have stopped and put my money into something else. I wouldn't be creating businesses for people to work in, when I can maintain a high profit business effectively solo. I don't dare put into my mouth accusations of why you do what you do, or what you care about. I like to think I've been professionally respectful throughout this meeting, though if you disagree, I do apologize for making you feel so. But never try to assume what it is I'm willing to drive myself to an early grave for, Miss Rashelle. Because I've run the numbers, and if I maintain work on this business, my health will deteriorate and leave me bedridden up to twenty years earlier than it otherwise will, accounting for magical treatments or not. Never, ever, question my resolve. Please. It's all I need ask of you." "Regardless!" Chipper and piping up again, as if he'd not broken the conversation's mould with his obvious frustrations, the young man straightened his back, and flashed the woman a smile, as he leaned into his chair once more, not even having noticed he'd hunched over like a predator during his speech. "Psionic bond research and the creation of psionically capable animals is more than just comfort, it's also safety and protection, if you want to experiment with the increase of psionic power down generations. Please, continue your presentation. I'm excited to see what else you have in store, if you're still interested in the position!"
  4. BiggieSmalls

    Devising a Pantheon - Hera

    Biggie's Canonization Process Karilius Oelin has begun the expansion of his Prometheus Initiative organization, by inviting individuals whom may be gifted administrator positions to personal interviews. This was the first of many interviews, for the position of the Hera(magical medicine and expansion of medical treatments) Administrator, Issac Graham, who accepted the position after a discussion with Karilius regarding the optimistic mage's morals and goals for the future, as well as Karilius' stated reason for the Prometheus Initiative's existence in the first place. It has also introduced Karilius' organization of businesses within the group, in order to empower individual businesses through magical means. Another introduction is Karilius' Leatherbound Book, a small booklet that contains a number of his musings regarding how to successfully create a magical economy and how to maintain its functionality, including plans and ploys by him to expand his organization, such as plans to rennovate and recreate the Safeguard Acts while bettering their public perceptions and the recreation of the Lightning Rail. There are more plans, but this booklet contains all of the major instances of the organization. In this thread specifically, Issac and Karilius discussed with each other where the organization will be going, and what they will be doing in the future, as well as appointing Issac to the head of the Hera division. Itemized List: 1. The Prometheus Initiative has begun expanding and creating leadership positions, which will be used in order to change the functionality of the setting at large through the beginning of magic industrial revolution, led by Issac Graham. 2. Karilius Oelin has been stated to be a capable businessman with many different business partners, as well as a person of interest within Blairville proper. 3. Karilius Oelin and the Promethean Banking and Security have become successful organizations, which increases the general security level of the people within, and increases the difficulty in breaking into people's homes. Security Measures: Blast Glyphs activated through conventional means of entry(low explosive tier elemental damage directed at targets who attempt to simply break into entrances without having been specified as non-targets); Alarm spells warning guards and homeowners when they are triggered through entrance of particular spaces(Spaces are cube-shaped and max out at 20ft to a side); Magical Ability/Detection tools more commonplace; Phase Locks make it nearly impossible to open up the highest security vaults in Blairville without means of dispelling them. 4. Issac Graham begins to make plans as an industry hero in order to revolutionize the industry that he had to run from to protect Aether(Return to a position of industry) NEW EVENTS: -See: Missionary Position Thread -Medical Research Threads(Research to improve, Research gone wrong, Research that is taught to others to improve the quality of life in Terrenus) -The Leatherbound Booklet might be a target of later thieves trying to sabotage the Prometheus Initiative's Pantheon Plan Subdivisions. It contains a great amount of information on how best to organize magical groups and will likely become a potential target for people who disagree with his group. -Promethean Banking and Security's success has made the bank itself a potential target for criminals who are interested in scoring big. -Karilius has accepted that his revolution cannot be bloodless. He turns to improve the combat capabilities of the Prometheus Initiative(see: Devising a Pantheon - Hades). This will give more combat-centric characters an opportunity to participate through militant action in the PI.
  5. BiggieSmalls

    Missionary Positions (Quest)

    Karilius Oelin cconsidered himself reasonable. He considered himself very positive in terms of demeanor, but reasonable in his everyday activities. And thus, when, less than a week ago, one of his administrators had threatened to blow up his rented out office building with an alchemized bomb, the business mage had quickly proceeded to give his first administrator of the subdivisions of the Pantheon Plan a quick and easy way out. A painless one, he'd hoped, in the form of several Invisible Servants assisting his administrator to sign everything at peak speeds. Now freed, the young businessmancer had been invited to the first major meeting of the subdivision, the interview process for magic clinics. Stepping into the room, albeit admittedly late, the snowy-haired, sun-eyed mage gave a small, polite smile, and a bow of his head to the group that'd been gathered. His voice was calm, quiet, and a bit higher pitched than the man who commanded no small number of sub-businesses within Blairville. It was almost too restrained and meek, to fit. "Hello, everyone. Sorry for being late, other instances held me up." He made no move to stand next to Issac, instead standing off to the side of the room, and folding his arms across his chest, the pale, white skin of his hands a beautiful contrast to his navy blue robes, and his cane pressing into his side. "My name is Karilius Oelin, though you all may call me Karilius or Mr. Oelin. No real preference, there." The young man chuckled before continuing. "Though I am the head of the Prometheus Initiative, my desire is to allow Mr. Graham full reign and leadership of the Hera subdivision of the Prometheus Initiative. I trust in his judgement, and primarily came to support him and offer my insight regarding the deployment of you all, the best and brightest medics, doctors, and medical researchers that Terrenus has to offer, throughout the regions. It's a pleasure to meet all of you, I hope we can get along fantastically!" The first person he noticed was a woman who seemed as positive as he was, if not three times as energetic and four times as bubbly. His lips loosened, relaxing into a small smile towards the red-eyed girl, whom, according to the dossier, claimed to be capable in traditional medical practices and surgical techniques. He would have to bestow upon her some measure of magical knowledge through the use of the eventual Apollo schooling institutions in order to instruct her in some minor techniques. Beyond that, a customized set of telekinetically-capable tools would offer her some advancement in her practices, and would only be a mild replication of his spell, Arthur's Grasp, condensed into a set of tools. She was a bubbly, peppy type, and seeing someone like that, wrapped up in heavy cloaks and traveler's clothing, ready to move, was delightful to him. It would be better for Issac to see someone like that as one of his first applicants. With the second person, Karilius had noticed a pattern here. He wasn't sure whether Issac would point it out, but a number of these people seemed to be completely magically illiterate. They wanted to help others, which was the only real prerequisite he considered important for the development of the organization, but Karilius slowly felt an increased need for the development of magical items to support this infrastructure, as well as the engagement of instructing the members to become magically literate. Still, Karilius tried not to show off his concerns, instead keeping his pleasant, casual-business smile, while waiting for the next person to introduce themselves.
  6. BiggieSmalls

    Devising a Pantheon - Hades

    With the grip of an redwood sequoia in his grasp, the young man's touch responded by coiling around, snakelike as its fingertips pressed inwards. Despite his intended isolation, old calluses still kept his grip rough and firm as they wrapped about the elf's grip. A hand that was most unlike a businessman's, to be sure, too strong and firm, and lacking dainty elegance. "You wouldn't be wrong about that, Mr. Enodurin. The vast majority of my life experiences and talents aren't even remotely related, beyond the occasional bit of security studies." Being told that his wards and spells were allowing him autonomous continuation of his business endeavors had the young man, more relaxed than he had any right to be, smooth himself out, his fingers slipping through his hair as he released his grasp, snowy white locks toussled about as his closed-eye smile stretched up towards his ears. "I appreciate your praises. Security and safety are of utmost importance to a safeguarded and content populace. I devoted my studies to such realms because without the feeling of safety, the people cannot push themselves towards other endeavors. But most of my knowledge is simple number-running and market predictions, determining trends and the like." Slowly, Karilius' relaxed posture once more grew tight. His shoulders no longer hung at his sides, instead tight, forming a straight line with his collarbone, while his ligaments and muscles became taut. Sunlight bright eyes turned away from the elf, those vibrant green eyes able to see something in those optimistic yellows. In their sparkling brilliance, in their beautiful gaze. Something like a wounded animal, harmed and pleading. His gaze was directed towards the window overlooking Blairville. Karilius stood from his chair, and approached that window, watching over it. "I am no king. Please, such lofty titles don't suit someone like me. Entrepreneur might suit me better, I suppose. And you're not merely a guest to me. You're someone with talents, with skills that, to be frank, I would hope to repurpose." Something had changed. Betwixt the two of them, there was something somber hanging in the air now, a cold precision, like a snipershot of ice having changed the direction of the room. "I never expect someone to have the same kinds of goals as me. I want to make the world a better place, a safer place, a place where the economy is self-driven and can thrive independent of government interference. I suppose I could call myself a... Philanthropist." As this cold, broken attitude continued, the young man, with his back turned, showed his hand. His true feelings were plain as day, with one hand gripping the wrist of another, so tight that his fingers left imprint marks in his skin. "I would repurpose you to lead and work with me in targeting the criminals who would interfere with such a world. Not to hunt down anyone and everyone who disagrees, but legitimate threats to the safety and peace of the people. An assassin, someone with your experiences, would be good at rooting those people out. As a hunter of people, I would ask you to work with me in directing hunters, and hunting yourself, to target the people who would interfere with the progress of the world. Working as a business, filling out governmental contracts, and hitting targets who possess dangerous magics in order to bring them into the fold. I hope I'm explaining myself a little more properly than it seems I am."
  7. BiggieSmalls

    LoD II: Hail to the Kings, Baby

    @PurplePanda Those who stayed behind to watch the strange creature, and kill the elf, and maybe eat it, but probably not, quickly leapt behind whatever cover they could find, scrambling behind rocks and natural bridges and stalagmites whenever able, easily finding complete and utter safety behind it, or so they'd hoped. A few of them weren't quick enough, or hadn't gotten with the program fast enough, so those were now shovel-decorations, adorning the elf's new weapon with their gray matter and blood splatters with a singular impact, the rough smash of metal on them quickly reducing their skulls to fragmented bits and pieces. Though, it'd apparently misjudged it's strength, having casually smashed goblin's head with enough force to shatter a solid bowling ball, let alone a humanoid skull. The first poor thing in the path quickly found its head nearly bisected, the slow motions of the skull cracking and bending and shattering into pieces small enough to roll down spine, and rip the head asunder resulting in that goblin's impact on the bodies of the others being relatively little. Mostly because its head was now caved in so neatly and perfectly that it no longer recognized a head, soft gray matter knocking up against the body of the other. Unfortunately, had the beast wanted the time to surprise or shock the creatures, Mayumi would have none of it, the immediacy of the ooze's psychoactive effects leaving no room to ask "what just happened", and replacing instead with a wordless scream, face's etched and carved into horrified expressions, each impact through their body quickly reducing them into mindless, shallow husks, incapable of humanoid speech any longer, shattering and breaking them into pieces under the impacts. But, fortunately, someone stepped forwards. An apparent hero among the goblins, stepping forth and starting to speak. Before it experienced the unfortunate side-effects of trying to face the elf, stabbed through the neck, and quickly pain-driven into unconsciousness. But, luckily, that only meant that his hand clutched down on the glass bottle in hand, a vial of alchemist's flame, quickly igniting his body, smoldering heat and flames covering his oil-slickened skin quickly enough to burn along the tendril, tickling it with blazes hot enough to sludgify the goblin's eyes out of its skull. Well. Heroes have to make sacrifices, don't they. @Dredge @Grubbistch @bfc @Zashiii Shugarath couldn't help but feel a minor, quick tick of frustration, now that he'd speared through three of the damned things, a smoldering hole through the first several goblins to enter in in various places a side-effect of his handiwork. It took but an utterance to slaughter these creatures, to reduce one's stomach, one's chest, and one's head into ashen-lined holes. And yet, for the three he'd killed in the time it took him to utter a noise, eighteen more had replaced them, tearing up the bodies and lunging at the undead and his companions with near frightening intensity, with the primal singlemindedness of a wounded animal, rather than the kin of goblinoid he'd expected to come across. Was it truly even worth it? To lay these things under his thumb? They could hardly register affection and humanity, as they tore their own asunder to get through. There was a lack of elegance, of grace to it, one that made him think of each and every one of the goblins as Dredge, for but an instant. A side-ways spear of flame combined with his arcane word, producing three smoldering holes through three goblins, smashing into each of them far more lethally and accurately than he had when he'd had the upper hand. It had taken precisely half a second, however, for the undead to turn his head towards Dredge, his brow knitted in immense anger, bordering on loathing. "Cease this minor annoyance, Dredge, and I may bother to dig your body out from the corpses." Shugarath spoke in that same, raspy tone, unfortunately nigh inaudible under the rancid screams of the goblins facing the giant's wrath. "No, at this point, I imagine you know I wouldn't bother." A groan knocked against the inside of the undead's skull, as he prayed in his mind that he wouldn't have to bother convincing someone else to save Dredge's ability to breathe after his kills crushed him under their weight, the little maggots were spiteful things. The smoldering wave of flame that engulfed the goblins, however, charred them, and heated Dredge's armor. The metal within soaked up the heat, as if becoming infused with it, after charring so many into ash. But worse was the ash, the thick cloud of hundreds of pounds of flesh being incinerated nigh instantaneously causing a thick, pestilent cloud of decayed, frayed, sickened goblin to waft into the air, the black smog of sickening, cindered beastman. Fortunately, very few of the creatures actually had need of breath, save the goblins. On the flip side, the battles that they raged became split, the ability to see within the cavern weakened immensely by the blackened ash cloud... Unfortunately turning the beckoning head tilt of the dark lord into something that most wouldn't be able to see, or register Shugarath, now blinded by the Sith's passionate start to the battle, was being smashed and hit into, goblins crushed under waves of flame, releasing fewer charred bits into the air, but still helping in the desecration of vision betwixt the organization, none of them working as a unit, yet. Only to hear one of the Fire King's twin voices call out to him, beckoning him for some manner of gift. As the undead priest was about to ask what in the nine hells he wanted, a goblin head knocked into his skull, and he had to turn, the time intended to be spent speaking replaced with the sharp bottom of his staff puncturing through the beast's head. "You miserable wretch! I have too many gifts for 'one of them' to be applicable here!" Shugarath growled in frustration back, now amplifying his voice with spell, under his tones were a thundercrack across the cavern. Of course, the priest had an idea of which power he desired. And with but a flick of his gaze, a blink, towards the Fire King, the spiders returned, their movements quick and erratic. The flaming man had accepted the contract before, and his force of personality and strength both were reinfused with the lifeblood of Demogorgon, with the Demon Prince's energies seething throughout his being. Unfortunately, beginning and maintaining a magical ritual would be no small feat. Though the goblins had no weapons through which they could harm the giant, their bodies and their weights pooled up together, as they smashed into him, the scent of burning, sizzling meat only beckoning more of the beasts to lunge ahead at him, each impact, while not harmful, breaking down his footholds, as burnt-open wounds spilled festering blood onto his boots, the heat evaporation only turning the cavern more pungent and distracting the further they continued this battle. Miserable little wretched things, all of them starved, and vile in their hungers. Meanwhile, atop the many handholds and footholds of the caverns, another battle waged on. A very different kind of battle, one where the slightest slip up could endanger any. The goblins may not have been martially trained or experienced, but they held skill and instinct on their side, each pull of their lithe, slim figures pulling them forwards so that they shot like cannonballs. Even without keeping up, there was always the pressure. Even a slightest slowdown, the slimmest missed handhold, could result in the vampire's last will under the pressure of goblinous weight. Each leap of the goblins pushed them forwards, and some even lunged off of their companions' heads, to send them careening to the ground, smashed underfoot and leaving a splatter of gray matter on the floor as others began to slowly use the sacrifices(willing or not) of their friends in order to push ahead. With the thick black ash within, the vampiress might not have noticed everything with her sight, but her auditory abilities would suffice with ease to make the observations. These weren't a led people, a people who followed command. These were beasts. Hungering things, starved for power and, more importantly, food. If they had trudged forwards, in a stampede, like this, then there was little doubt that there was no true leadership here. Merely a wave of goblins. No, wait, there was something. Something from the deeper confines of the left hallway, like a pinprick on skin, barely registering with any senses amidst the chaos, but a sensor like the vampiress had the best chance of noticing this almost non-instant. These pinpricks continued with slow, cautious movements, each one hardly registering. Coming from the sides of the wall and above, away from the stream that bubbled beneath it. Creatures were coming. Creatures far more cautious and dangerous than single goblins. Six... Five of them? It wasn't particularly easy to sense amidst the chaos, but there were at least five. And each of them was nearly as tall as Dredge himself, despite these near silent motions. However, on top of that, the undeathly ugly beasts continued their work, happily charging into the fray, trying to find more meat. Only to be stopped, by a strange, thin film, something quickly smacking them backwards and causing a slight stretch from the elasticity between it. They were, undoubtedly, all deeply frustrated at the strange action, each one of them clawing and digging at the air as they attempted to peel past it with claw and nail, scraping down it to wear it down, until nail became bloodied stump, each goblin working regardless of the others, some of the clawing people crushing their fellow goblinoid against the elastic wall, nudging into it until their bodies went flat. Shugarath, however, had long since had enough of this. His gaze turned towards one of the goblins, and he muttered a single name under his breath. "Juiblex." One of the goblins, pressed up and squirming against the wall of air, stopped, his body convulsing madly as his arms and legs began to melt, viscous sludge gathering at his fingertips, and spreading, burning off his limbs rapidly, and eliciting screams that punctuated even the fury of combat, drowning out Dredge's music for the five seconds it took before the goblin's throat was too torn and decimated to accomplish much of anything. The pools of sludge that were his arms slowly fell to his sides, dripping onto his kin, and causing him to suddenly perk up. He was feeding. If he touched people, he could feed, he didn't even have to fight the monsters, there was so much food right here!! His lower half quickly turned into a tail of the same sludge, like a genie's bottom half, immediately shooting down the tunnel, as the goblin, gifted with the ability to feed, gorged himself on the air wall and his kin, the greenish, mucuslike slime dissolving the materials it touched with an unnatural ease and simplicity. That was the hole plugged up for a bit, until the goblin was full. "Is there anything else you miserable wretches need from me now?"
  8. BiggieSmalls

    Two Horny Men Meet Wet Women

    Now that he'd entered into the restaurant, dressed in his finest military garb, the young tiefling couldn't help but feel it. His own contemptuous attitude towards these kinds of people whom he planned on working with was a secret, but he was familiar with it. It was like a visceral, reddened sludge in the atmosphere that dulled the senses, and that he oft found himself purging, leaving nothing more than his own usually pragmatic attitude. His gaze flicked across the room upon entering in, and he could feel it. Taste it. A red twister, pushing down on him. Crimson eyes flicked over the soldiers that accompanied his businesspartner. If not spite, then their disdain was plainly obvious. And judging by the fact that none of it was directed towards Arithor, who was far more demonic and unsettling an appearance than his own timid, weaker stature, it was something particular about him. Was it his low-class-upbringing and lack of family? No, many turned to the army due to such extenuating circumstances. Perhaps it was because he'd disappeared? No, word would have spread through by now, and disarmed the individuals in front of him. Which meant that there was some manner of gossip. He'd been relatively under control on the boat, so, judging by the fact that A'rithor himself wasn't bothering to give him a first look, let alone a second, was immediately suspicious. A high powered mage like A'rithor would have been capable, and with his "holier than thou" complex, there was little doubt in the underclass tiefling's mind that there had been gossip going on between A'rithor and his men. There were a number of alternate options, but this seemed, admittedly, the most likely to explain the disparity of contempt, disgust between himself and A'rithor, with C'lem's own economic background relatively shrouded. Approaching the table, the young tiefling stopped as A'rithor sat down across from him. Petty little demon, wasn't he? Ignoring the tiefling's clear and obvious discomfort at being around him C'lem strolled around the table, making his way to the seat next to the sorcerer, and placing his bag on the back of the chair next to him. There were no words, but a flickered glance towards his sorcerous companion warned him to shut his mouth and deal with it. Immediate intermingling of sides would put individuals on guard instantly, much like being forced to sit next to your racist uncle at the dinner table. So with these new blossoming relationships, they couldn't afford such a misstep, and thus, would be broken up according to allegiance. However, upon the entrance of the queen herself, C'lem, still standing, raised a hand, open palm resting against his breast, and bowed at the waist, ensuring that his head never tilted even an inch, spine remaining straight with polished precision. His bow left little doubt that he at least was willing to look deeply respecting of the queen. Not a word escaped his mouth as he completed the gesture, standing up once more, and offering the woman an affable smile. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Queen Ravena. You grace our humble selves with your presence." If his red eyes weren't so starkly glowing, then the soft incline of his brow might have implied he was a peaceful, calm man. The way his fingertips just so barely ran down his wolf-leather-clad breast was slow, deliberate, each slim fingertip gliding across the rough leather as if it were a lover's smooth skin. The slightest tilt of his head gave a disarming and smoldering look to those red eyes. But there was more to it. Each part of his expression was measured, perfect, and hollow in his soul, even if the brightness of his irises made it hard to read. His smile was exhausted, holding less passion than contentment in it, while his chimerous expression mixed together into something calm and peaceful, emanating respect, to the queen. "As it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Lady Rahab." His companion had ruined the pacing. Internally, the poor hornspawn could have groaned in frustration at the quickness with which he introduced himself. An introduction was an art, and his companion seemed to lack the theatrical flair that C'lem himself had to draw in the attention of others. "As he stated, my companion is A'rithor Ema'ze. You may call me C'lem Hornspawn." Having not listened to his companion to be sitting when the targets arrived, C'lem had instead deigned to be standing, to allow the deep bow to be made seamlessly upon first meeting, cutting out the middleman from the beginning. He lacked the deep, chocolatey tones of his companion, instead speaking more feathery and light, each word infused with peaceful delight and calm, dancing off of his tongue like faeries in a music box, carrying smooth music to his diplomatic partners. Next, of course, was the entrance of this stranger, with tattoos draped across him as if his body were a canvas. The damned person looked like a brute, and the fact he bothered to address them with his eyes gave away that, however little, he did have some kind of vested interest in their next move. Once more, from his still-standing position, C'lem bowed at the waist, ensuring that his head was lowered completely to avoid eye contact. His gaze fixated on the floor for a quick three-count, before he straightened himself up. "It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Xaprychor." His tones retained that silken flow to them, a bardic song without magic dancing on his tongue as easily as most found breath. This person had a vested interest in the going-ons, as a personal representative of his people. The fact he'd bothered to show up spoke volumes about that. C'lem didn't need to pressure him for that. As long as there was a marginal amount of care in what would be going on between these important diplomatic relationships, then there would be a larger margin of success, likely somewhere in the 30-40% region right now. With his hand resting on the back of A'rithor's chair, the younger diplomat barely turned his head towards the upper-class tiefling. At least he'd picked and chosen liquor fitting for the class of the situation. The mere sight of it made the hornspawn feel his stomach twist into knots, disgust spreading throughout his body. But he'd picked out liquors to set the table during the meal. Personally, C'lem found it a waste. Picking out the liquor with these people would have created a sense of camaraderie, and allowing each person to place their own order for their liquor of preference would have allowed each person to experience a minor bit of comfort, but these were barely 2% alterations to the goal, useful, but negligible. Then came the piece de resistance. A man wearing a full on neckbrace worth of survival equipment was now sitting at the table. God, he looked like an invalid. Was he what counted for an invalid among his people? Well, he was here, so that much would work. The poor thing even did some magical display of power, to make himself look more capable than he was, and the action's primary meaning was obvious. "The meal was intended to be eight courses, but if you're slowly dying in your seat, let's decrease it to four, shall we?" C'lem had put his odds at 70-30 that the proud fish-elf would instead say that he could stay for the whole eight courses, which would make the discomfort he felt a weakness that could be preyed upon in courses five through eight. If he agreed, then it would restrict their time and shame the warrior group, whose pride had been put on the line, plain and obvious, the second the mage worked his magical feat. That would put them on the end of the wounded animal, lashing out with their desires more quickly, and allowing C'lem to gain more knowledge about the wants and needs of the people before him. Well, it was time to get to work. "As A'rithor said, we emissaries of the Terran government are here to discuss the terms of each of us setting up embassies in each other's homelands, or in places nearby, to discuss joint policy and efforts in order to work together towards a continued future." Despite his hatred for this high class drink, C'lem brought his glass of merlot up into the air. "A toast, then?"
  9. BiggieSmalls

    Devising a Pantheon - Hades

    Karilius couldn't help but feel the anxiety, the thinness of breath in his lungs as he, in his mind, began to compromise pacifistic ideals(despite never claiming himself a pacifist). Considering his own lack of studies regarding the matter, his magical abilities instead tailored to a specific series of spell techniques that, while useless in combat, could enable him in everyday activities, the snowy businessmage hardly considered himself good enough at combat to be able to judge those around him, most of his invitations for this round of interviews based primarily on reputations. His requirements for the position had been threefold: capable of functioning in leadership and administrative positions; capable of combat and hunting down targets; possession of offensive magics. He hardly knew how to qualify each one, his naive and innocent nature leaving the poor kid far out of his depth here. Especially considering that the poor kid had no time to rethink his many, many life decisions that would have led him to this state, considering that his door was now opened, revealing not one, but two people in front of him. They had come to assassinate him. Probably under the contract of another businessowner, concerned about the Initiative's progress. His near-panic was plainly obvious in his body language. From how stiff his spine looked, to the tightness of his smile, to the tight, white-knuckled grip around his blackwood cane, everything about the lad screamed his discomfort at his guests' arrival. The elven necromancer whom Karilius had personally invited would probably see how outlandish his boss was with the number of mystical glyphs on the wall, somewhere between the showmanship and flare of a mad mage's personal home, but retaining patient, ordered, and pristinely clean. Even as the two figures stepped within the dormitory, a flash of light cleaned their boots and robes, the white light engufling them showing off a more practical magic that the young man likely could have made a fortune on selling to the upper class, just so that everyone who came around them was clean. It wasn't until the elf opened his mouth to speak, and bowed at the businessmage, that Karilius began to relax, his expression loosening as he glanced up at the man. "No, please, master is too much. I'm not even the headmaster of High Towers. Feel free to just call me Karilius, or Mr. Oelin." Standing up, the young man crossed distances towards the mercenary in a few rapid strides, with an outstretched hand. It wasn't difficult to see the results of genuine hard work, rather than purely academic work. Callused fingers remained motionless, while he waited for the elf to take his grasp. "It would seem strange, but I do have a purpose for inviting you here, Mr. Enodurin. In fact, you could say that the success and survival of my goals requires something like this." He didn't fully explain himself, without the handshake. It would be wrong, and a firm handshake was always a comfort. "You could say that my total lack of military expertise is actually why I imagined that someone such as yourself would be of assistance."
  10. BiggieSmalls

    Devising a Pantheon - Demeter

    "No need to explain, I can... Imagine." The Promethean offered a small, somewhat awkward smile, as the strange pair explained their drink preferences. Nodding, the young man's spectral hand grasped hold of the pot, setting it over to boil over a mystic glyph, the sigil's sight glow helping to heat up the filled pot's water. He gave a quiet, patient smile to the ape beating its chest. "I can set up ginseng for you, or earl grey. My personal collection isn't very extensive, and I tend towards keeping my own personal interests in stock more than others, I'm afraid." With the ape, hopefully, content regarding the drink, the young man brought up the intents of the group. He'd steered the conversation successfully back onto the proper page. Instead of discussing what she wanted from him, Karilius intended to get her to explain why she would be a satisfying member, and reexplaining the obvious reason they were here, though a simple tactic, seemed successful. The sun-eyed man couldn't help but read the woman, her frustration plain, if only marginal. Plans, plots, and ploys, and ferreting them out, was his intent, and the woman's frustration seemed to serve him well enough, judging by the fact that she began to list off her ideas for the subsidiary. "Not exactly,I'm afraid." Once more, shallow laughter, hushed if not near-silent, was pursed from his lips, as he made eye contact with her. "The things you're describing wouldn't be marketed as luxury pets, but instead more along the lines of safety animals, much in the same way that we don't market warhorses as farm animals. While I can understand where your description comes from, using 'luxury' to mean 'top of the line', the word is far more synonymous with comfort to the modern person, and thus marketing weaponized animal breeding programs as 'luxury pets' would cause a decrease in sales potentials. These would be subsidiaries of the animal breeding projects, of course. No sugars?" By the time the young mage had made his business acumen plain, and Barnebus the ape had turned, a pair of mugs, clinking against one another, were being carried over by a semi-transparent hand, a cup of earl grey offered to the ape, and black coffee offered to the scientist. A pair of sugar cubes was tucked between the spectral hand's fingertips, as if making the offer to the two of them to indulge in it as they pleased. "But I do understand what you mean. Magical amplification of existing abilities or the introduction of new abilities and comforts in order to make the creatures fulfill more than just their bog-standard purposes. It might seem nitpicky of me to describe it, but connotation and advertisement are important parts of keeping the funding running through different groups, and if I were to brand the near-military-grade creations, such as instantaneous runic information transferrence via psionics or spell abilities from familiar-like animals, without the extraplanar interference, it would be an investment to be marketed to military organizations, or information-gathering members. I certainly wouldn't consider it to be a basic necessity. Cats or dogs that are tougher than usual, or capable of recognizing illness and injury, as well as animals with increased brain capacity and ease towards obedience training are closer to the brand of luxury pet I'd considered." The young mage gestured with his cane, the woman given more than enough time to pluck the sugars if necessary, and with it, the hand quickly returned back to the corner of the room, waiting patiently for its next command. And the mage himself was able to no longer focus on it, instead devoting his entire attention to the menagerie of animals that had been snuck into his room, a number of various beasts replacing what had been a strange aquarium but an instant before. A golden-eyed falcon, likely a reference to the design she'd mentioned previously. His hands folded across his lap, cane laying across his thighs, as he watched. "An interesting idea, that I'm proud to see that you've made into reality. Arcane mental adjustments towards beasts like these would be more effective with collars though, which could be mass produced in order to create a symbiotic relationship with an individual, allowing them to experience minor psionic feelings transmission between the two, don't you think? Temporary discharges of emotion would be preferable, of course, but this would be incredibly time and resource consuming, whereas the creation of collars as described would allow application towards different beasts, though to prevent malicious misuse, I would prevent them from being used between two humanoids, and restrain the effects towards beasts." Karilius had, quickly, devolved from a businessman into a scientist, his hands resting across his lap, as he stared at the creature, watching it cautiously for any external signs of manipulation. "It is an interesting way to accomplish indefinite and complete training, so I am impressed, but evolutionary manipulation and magical breeding techniques, such as imbuing arcane energies harnessed in the form of spells would be more interesting and fitting for the purposes of the Demeter project."
  11. BiggieSmalls

    Devising a Pantheon - Hera

    "It probably will be. I don't expect the path to be... Bloodless. But if I accept from the very beginning that to accomplish my goal, I have to make other people suffer, I'll become complacent in it." The young man reiterated, and placed his hand on the window, this time uttering a simple spell, barely a word of arcane might, to prestidigitate the window clean, not a single smudge from his touches remaining within a second. Once more, instead of the grimy, cruel smears on the people, it was once more an idealized, flattened clear glass pane. His naivety was plain, obvious to those who knew him for more than a few minutes. He was quick-witted and planning, as well as thorough in his machinations, but his greatest flaw as someone capable of influencing the world was this idealist nonsense. Like he himself had said. Targeted assassination was sometimes the most capable plan, a surgical removal of cancer for the body to grow. But, at least as he was, Karilius refused to accept that as the immediately chosen answer. As if the mere acceptance of such a thing would prevent him from truly protecting those whom he'd gone down this path for. The burdens and scars would be evident, but were it up to him, as the world so rarely allows, he would bare them on his chest, on his face, on his hands and feet and legs and arms, rather than his back. To bare the marks of the world's scorn openly, and maintain his open hands would be his ideal, if he could manage. Turning back, the mage offered his companion a slight smile, the corners of his lips spreading towards his ears. "There will never be an easy way to fix the world, to make it better. But every sacrifice should be taken as a sacrifice, an evil, however lesser. I'll bare that cross until it breaks me, at least. And when I face that choice, I suppose I'll find the man who I really am inside. Something to look forwards to." Karilius laughed, awkwardly, as the alchemist spoke to him once more, accepting his invitation. In response, Karilius offered his hand to the man, grabbing hold of him at the wrist, and tightening his grasp. "We've got much to do, then. Offering medicinal support, researching curative and disease preventative magicks and spell abilities to the populace, as well as implementing potions that offer similar effects is no cheap and easy feat. It's an honor to have you on board."
  12. BiggieSmalls

    LoD II: Hail to the Kings, Baby

    @bfc @Zashiii @Dredge @Grubbistch The poor, poor giant, armored man. He seemed to labor under the assumption that Shugarath himself cared about the ambitions of these other entities, that their teamwork was of some tantamount significance to the priest. As he turned to face Dredge, stating that the warrior-caste had a task ahead of them, he merely held back a derisive laugh. Of course they did. Instead, the unhallowed priest brought a hand to his lips, covering his already covered mouth, and speaking through it, his muffled, raspy tones responding to the warrior. "Of course, dear Dredge. I wouldn't mind allowing you lot to continue ahead and make quick work of what lies ahead, as you are wont to do." There was something behind that tone. Something challenging. Shugarath wanted Dredge to fail. To suffer and be mocked for his failures, for even the King of Fire's armor to be torn asunder, and though he would never vocalize it, watching such empowered beings be humbled by what they sought to hunt would only bring the priest closer to his own goals. Politeness and sincerity were a mask for each of them. And though it couldn't hide each of the deathbringers' secret motivations, it could disguise what they were. But the flaming king would serve Dredge's ambitions, however patiently. To follow Dredge in his foolishness, to attempt to succeed, was a minor play, something minimal at best, willing to draw none of significance to them. The Unhallowed allowed his hands to rest at his sides, as the two giants tried to summon the beasts in each hallway with their offerings of human-steak. As if that would draw out what they truly wanted. He knew that the lot had paid relatively little attention to his discussions, or else they would be martially their might to focus only on the middle corridor. The ancient hobgoblins were a martial race, trained in endless wars against humans and the creatures of the dark. Perhaps they weren't doing it out of honor, but instead their culture, but the two giants had yet to martial their forces or lay claim to the center passageway, to try to gain ancient warriors, tempered in wars against the creatures of light and dark both. Miserable little wretches, trying to smoke out intelligent creatures through offerings of human steak, with organ, bile, and waste still within their bodies, as if charred meat were a tempting offering to anything. Turning back to watch the woman coming closer to him, gaudy with jewelry, Shugarath took in a deep, long breath. Pet names. Oh joy. This wasn't going to become obnoxious at all. Those dark, hollow eyes turned back to face the woman, addressing Lady Blackhead with casual scorn and derision as she once more attempted to reduce him to a mere pet. First a barbarian, now a pet. What a lovely creature this was. Perhaps her rather... Obvious embarrassment could be used as a tool. "You will call me the Unhallowed One, Father of the Nine, or Shugarath." His tone was cold, distanced, and now that he was deriding his allies mentally, most of the obnoxiously self-serving priest's words were pushed into the back of his head. "And you should take care, Blackhead. I've made more wretched women than you scream for my gifts." Beneath his helm, his lips slowly unfurled into a smirk, his vicious triple entendre hiding a number of intentions from his allies. His casual internal derision of the majority of his allies was shattered by the fellow undead, snapping her fingers, the noise resonating off of the walls, loud enough to draw his attention. Turning towards the girl, he then saw the smaller tunnels. So, that was what he thought he'd heard. His expression quickly changed from one of peaceful contemplation, to readiness for war, for combat. Though he himself carried little in the way of direct violence, or raw power, he had to temper himself. Power was necessary for his endgoals, and no matter what he had to do to obtain it. This was an opportunity to hone his skills. "I understand, child. Please, allow me to... Attempt to dissuade them." Stepping forwards, the undead did have a mission to carry out, one that would, doubtlessly, draw more power to him, along with greater opportunities. @PurplePanda As the elf, however, at the other end, broke through the exit to the "beast"s gullet, she found her feet finding the faces of ugly little abominations, crushing rotted, already-weakened teeth down with her heels, as she smashed through into the opening. A single, bubbly stream ran through the center, perhaps tricking her that she was only now in the beast's stomach, with its juices roiling and babbling like a brook inside of it. What a terrifying creature! The goblins, however, had to make a choice. Charred, tasty meat at the end of the tunnel. Or ugly elf-meat, not even burned, here. To such depraved, broken creatures, it was a genuine question. Elfmeat was unhealthy and dry in the first place, and a number of the goblins merely decided to go around her, charging around the girl like a horde, moving as a storm of angry little things, dashing past one another in order to get into the opening, and steal and take whatever they could manage, the storm of bodies in the tunnel causing it to tremble, like an earthquake, as they made their way to a cruel and unknowing fate. A good number of the goblins, however, were hungry enough not to care, and charged the elf, clawing at her and chomping into her, long, taloned nails breaking off into her skin, like little bullets of infection, pushing past skin and armor, and leaving their green touches all over her body. But the girl seemed to have a trick up her sleeve. One that a number of joyful, starving goblins received, in the form of a full belly. Not in the way they'd expected though. Considering that their stomachs were now impaled by thick, viscous black sludge, the creatures' faces quickly contorting into agony, as their own stomach acids boiled and burned their insides, digging into them and claiming their lives now that organ had been punctured like tissue paper. The others watched with terror as the elf unhinged its jaw, and began to vomit up that black liquid, as if she were retching it up and out of her tarnished elven soul, let alone her body! The goblins weren't foolish creatures, dumb by any means. So instead of directly engaged the creature, they grabbed wet rocks, and fistfuls of water, throwing it onto her, and aiming for her eyes and her stomach, pelting her with the projectiles and trying to break down the liquid by mixing it, a technique learned to prevent fetid wastes from clogging up the stream that they drank from. A few rocks likely found purchase in the side of the elf's head, as the goblins who threw it began chanting. Goblinoid for "Black Tar Elf". Chanting it as if expecting the chant to make it back away, when mixed with sharp, jagged rocks aimed at her body and smooth stones aimed at her face. They'd stay away, if they wanted to eat the elf. And it wasn't even worth eating the elf now, these ones just wanted her dead. Luckily her projectile vomiting did hit other creatures, the goblins attempting to escape from the tunnel to find the meat at the far end, the charred flesh to feast upon, to eat and grab and rip and tear to pieces. Some of them made little trip barriers, and were crushed underfoot, heel and talon digging into their flesh, and rending their backs apart, spines exposed and heads crushed into jagged stones and footholds knocking teeth loose, until splatters of blood escaped from the crying, unconscious creatures, as they were reduced to becoming new footholds, the agony of the acidic spray helping lull them to a deathly sleep, with their injuries. @bfc @Zashiii @Dredge @Grubbistch Meanwhile, in the cavern, the "heroes" of the tale could feel it. That this wasn't just a single beast approaching, coming to find the bodies and bring it back to their tribe. They had summoned the horde. The still water in the back of the pool flooded out from the thundering impacts through the walls and the cavern, the bats quickly dispersing into the openings above, rather than face these ugly beasts. But by the time the first one arrived and poked its head out, Shugarath had long been ready, the priest uttering an infernal word, and sending a spear of flaming pillar through it, and a number of its allies by proxy. The small tunnel, for an instant, filled with char and death, and the priest couldn't help but feel the base smugness of successful murder. But he was quickly made silent, as the bodies were torn apart by their starving brothers and sisters, the horde of goblins tearing past their former friends and families, grabbing hold of their limbs, and using them as weapons. Savages to the end, the beasts swung around torn-up limbs. Legs were clubs, strengthened by a +1 charm of rigor mortis. Skulls were projectiles, and teeth and talons both accompanied them, as the goblinoids tossed their new weapons at the undead, a skull cracking against his armor and stunning him for less than a half-second. But even that was enough. These creatures were lined up for the slaughter, tactics a distant twentienth in their mind, as they spread out. Some jumped on the footholds and handholds of the cavern walls, trying to grab the new meat and knock it down onto the spikes and spines, so that their meat would be fresher. Some of them charged the warriors in front of them, attempting to lay waste to any who would get in the way of their meal. Some even grabbed excrement and organ from dead goblins before them, and tossed them, to help these brave souls. But most of them didn't care. No, most of them were going straight for the meat, ready to rip it into a trillion tiny pieces, and feast upon them, before making their next call on what to do. Hell hath no danger like a starving animal, and these goblins were very, very hungry.
  13. BiggieSmalls

    Devising a Pantheon - Demeter

    With a sudden knocking on his door, the young mage shot up, his peace shattered, and his thoughts pressed into the back of his head now that the opportunity to distract himself had arisen. Maybe the invitee was late. Maybe they were reconsidering the position, like he'd been. But instead of an opportunity to reconsider and push the thing aside, his door was nearly broken open, by a massive albino gorilla in a bowler's cap, complete with magiprosthetic. The sheer sight of the ape was enough to cause the business mage to falter for an instant, his jovial attitudes broken down as his jaw hung loose, staring at the hat-tipping monkey as he pushed in, to the mage's continued surprise, a massive metal wagon, complete with living halves of fish, swirling around and about in the water. "What in the hells?" The sun-eyed mage spoke with a voice tinged with shock, as he tried to make out the gorilla's intentions. Nope. Reading the body language of a Gorilla was not something he was emotionally prepared for. Ever. As the woman in white robe stepped in, nearly noxiously clean, sterile to the point of medical perfection, the white-haired mage found his gaze lingering on her. This was the interviewee, alright. Had she brought the gorilla as a resume? And the topless fish? His eyes switched over to the rattling metal cage and the gorilla, while the woman bowed in front of him. Turning back to her, the young man, with his mouth still hanging ajar, responded to her bow with a similar one, albeit more relaxed in posture. A closed hand resting on his chest, bent at the waist, with his head tucked downwards, eye contact broken for but an instant, before he straightened up again. "Please, it's no honor. I'm just another man trying to do good in the world, after all." A laugh escaped from him, as the woman introduced herself and the gorilla, who was indeed smiling, his attitude quickly reverting to a jovial one. "It's a pleasure to make both of your acquaintances! I hope that the journey caused you no trouble! I can start making tea in the corner if you'd like. I find that a cup of tea or coffee in the night is always a pleasant way to keep conversation flowing." Turning towards his bed, the mage flicked his wrist, the furniture quickly breaking apart into three things. A transmuted glass table, and two couches, each one on a different side of said table. Leather upholstery, of an indiscernible quality, kept its springs in check, and supported the young mage as he sat himself down, gesturing with his fingertips towards the corner of the room, and creating a spectral hand, the thing grabbing a pot, and beginning the process of making coffee, indistinct of his continued orders. While he couldn't tell that the woman was counting the time before his moments, judging him for his patient, peaceful attitude, she'd find that despite his pleasant, jovial demeanor, he was quick in words as well as in mind. "Ranching efficiencies and bodyguard animals breeding are important fragments of the Demeter program, but the projects that the animal breeding subsidiary of the Prometheus Initiative will also include attempts to peacefully integrate magically-inclined creatures into the daily lives of the people. Cats with spell-like abilities, dogs who are more capable of hunting down criminals through the abilities to sense their spells, things such as that. And while I'm capable of providing you with connections and capital to accomplish your goals, I'd prefer to get to know your resume and your attitude before I hand off the job. A single misstep, after all, could result in the branding of the Prometheus Initiative being tattered to ruins, you understand. So if you'd like, we could go over what you've, uh, brought here today, while also discussing potential plans for the future, goals that you wish to accomplish while under my employ, and why you believe that you're ideal for the position." Whether she'd intended to keep him completely off guard through quick words and surprising actions, the young man was surprisingly taking control of the conversation back, attempting to steer it towards the reason that they were gathered.
  14. BiggieSmalls

    Devising a Pantheon - Hades

    Karilius Oelin considered himself to be a fortunate member of the High Towers' mage guild. He felt blessed to have the many resources available to him, his motions and his movements backed by a well-crafted, slowly-changing group of similarly-interested mages, many of whom had come from other mage guilds in order to empower the Prometheus Initiative. People who sought to immediately and potently use their abilities in order to help others and solve everyday problems... People who were like him. The white-haired young man, with sun-glare eyes, couldn't help but let his pale face pull into a grin at the thought of all of those people, working closely in tandem with him, all of them reaching for the same sun, chasing after it with their knowledge. To make the world truly better would require that they all join and band together, to innovate and change the way the world saw magic. He himself saw it as a simple tool, like any other. A spell could be wielded just as efficiently, if not more so, as a shovel or a pitchfork. A spell was merely an extension of a toolset, a skill to be used. It was nothing particularly special, nothing that likely could not be accomplished via other means, in time. But with the deaths of many under the violence on both sides of the Safeguard Act, this tool had to be rebranded from one of terrorism to one of peace, that the common folk could rally around. It was with the general people who kept the economy running that Karilius himself could enact the change he sought to place in the world. The change that had been inspired, not so long ago, from a simple, leather-bound booklet. Within his room, the white-haired boy, scarred on one face, was alone. A large double bed, and a mahogany desk were pushed towards the far side of the room, with stacks upon stacks of books obscuring the dark wood from the vision of any passersby. A mixture of ledgers, rosters, and records all pieced together in order to keep up-to-date information regarding the entirety of his organization, but more importantly, his plans and their eventual stations, to be placed within. The rug itself held the same magical charm as the rug within his bank, a simple set of runes that would clean the boots and clothes of those who stepped in. Alarm glyphs, hidden from view, and alerting only himself when triggered, lined his windows and doors. His bookshelves, all three of them, were home-kempt journals depicting the different businesses of the city who used his bank, information he could gather along with techniques that he had obtained through the discussions on whether or not he should invest in them. Within a single mage's room was enough economic information to break about twenty-percent of the common businesses of Blairville, ranging from magical shops to mundane ones, each bookshelf broken down into one of four categories: Individuals who had borrowed money from the bank; Individuals who sought security details from the bank; and Individuals who used the bank as a place to protect their income. And in the margins of each page were extensive details regarding their business, from names, to loved ones, to obsessive details regarding their abilities. More importantly, a list of spell-like abilities that would benefit the businesses with a name on each page. The Knights of Goldwyn. Athena. Introduce magical tethers that allow the bodyguards to detect the state that their charge is in, so that they can better comprehend their immediate priorities. Scrying sensors would be of the utmost use. The Fenwyn Adventurer's Guild. Poseidon. Introduce refreshment beads, liquid beads, and other general survival tools. Conspire to decrease the amount of space and weight necessary for necessities, so maximal material can be brought back with each dangerous trek. Fell Dark Mercenary Company. Hades. Weaponization of negative energies in order to inflict lasting wounds, in order to force injured parties to submit quicker. Decrease overall lethality, focus instead on the impeding of natural healing and resting processes. Page upon page of information, sensitive and projected, were all listed on these bookshelves. The meticulous detailing of a young man bordering on the obsessed, through all but the machinations of a single brown book. But as the young man picked up this brown booklet, he tucked it into his robes, and stalled aside, coming to a spot on his bed. He knew what he'd done by inviting someone in here. His usually chipper face reflected a deeply serious concern, as those deep golden eyes flicked over his bookshelf. A glyph clicked away, as if warning him when the encroaching time would arrive. The young man couldn't help but let the clicking of the glyph-clock on his wall remind him of a deeply frustrating sentiment. The one that, despite all of his goodwill towards his fellow man, his blind-eyed idealism, and his visceral desire to do good unto others, that if he were killed, all of his goals would die with him, and that the next person to inherit his business might not be as cool-minded or peacefully-inclined as himself. And with his plans for the future, he imagined that a great many groups... The Terran Government and the Terrorists against the Safeguard act especially, would both find their ire drawn towards him. His fingertips drummed patiently at his desk, and he couldn't help but take in deep, slow breaths, as he tried his best to not let it bother him. He needed... Soldiers. Unfortunately, he had need of guards. But if they were just personal guards for him, it wouldn't justify the expense. The compromise was Hades. The organization that would work as bounty hunters representing the interests of the Prometheus Initiative, while simultaneously working with law enforcement to prevent dangerous individuals from continuing to press the public, and function as guards for the personnel of the Initiative's many subsidiaries. Though he played it off as assistance to law enforcement, a line in the sand had to be drawn. This was the formation of a private military company, in order to keep the interests and members of the Prometheus Initiative alive, by working with government contracts, business contracts, and other such groups, as a high-power force to put the Initiative itself on the map as something. Something that shouldn't be targeted, for fear of the repercussions. @carrionjackal
  15. Karilius Oelin considered himself to be a fortunate member of the High Towers' mage guild. He felt blessed to have the many resources available to him, his motions and his movements backed by a well-crafted, slowly-changing group of similarly-interested mages, many of whom had come from other mage guilds in order to empower the Prometheus Initiative. People who sought to immediately and potently use their abilities in order to help others and solve everyday problems... People who were like him. The white-haired young man, with sun-glare eyes, couldn't help but let his pale face pull into a grin at the thought of all of those people, working closely in tandem with him, all of them reaching for the same sun, chasing after it with their knowledge. To make the world truly better would require that they all join and band together, to innovate and change the way the world saw magic. He himself saw it as a simple tool, like any other. A spell could be wielded just as efficiently, if not more so, as a shovel or a pitchfork. A spell was merely an extension of a toolset, a skill to be used. It was nothing particularly special, nothing that likely could not be accomplished via other means, in time. But with the deaths of many under the violence on both sides of the Safeguard Act, this tool had to be rebranded from one of terrorism to one of peace, that the common folk could rally around. It was with the general people who kept the economy running that Karilius himself could enact the change he sought to place in the world. The change that had been inspired, not so long ago, from a simple, leather-bound booklet. Within his room, the white-haired boy, scarred on one face, was alone. A large double bed, and a mahogany desk were pushed towards the far side of the room, with stacks upon stacks of books obscuring the dark wood from the vision of any passersby. A mixture of ledgers, rosters, and records all pieced together in order to keep up-to-date information regarding the entirety of his organization, but more importantly, his plans and their eventual stations, to be placed within. The rug itself held the same magical charm as the rug within his bank, a simple set of runes that would clean the boots and clothes of those who stepped in. Alarm glyphs, hidden from view, and alerting only himself when triggered, lined his windows and doors. His bookshelves, all three of them, were home-kempt journals depicting the different businesses of the city who used his bank, information he could gather along with techniques that he had obtained through the discussions on whether or not he should invest in them. Within a single mage's room was enough economic information to break about twenty-percent of the common businesses of Blairville, ranging from magical shops to mundane ones, each bookshelf broken down into one of four categories: Individuals who had borrowed money from the bank; Individuals who sought security details from the bank; and Individuals who used the bank as a place to protect their income. And in the margins of each page were extensive details regarding their business, from names, to loved ones, to obsessive details regarding their abilities. More importantly, a list of spell-like abilities that would benefit the businesses with a name on each page. Orgal Crone. The Seeds of Wrath. Zeus. Use the combative potential to allow expansion of farming into more dangerous territory, effectively growing border protectors for frontier villages. Grace Foln, Private Detecctive. Harpocrates. Create image-capturing magical items to allow her to improve her prosecution on clients through better evidence. Diolise Monstrous Kiddie Rance. Demeter. Use the baby monstrosities for breeding projects in order to help improve the capabilities of beasts in terms of output of meat and other byproducts. Page upon page of information, sensitive and projected, were all listed on these bookshelves. The meticulous detailing of a young man bordering on the obsessed, through all but the machinations of a single brown book. But as the young man picked up this brown booklet, he tucked it into his robes, and stalled aside, coming to a spot on his bed. He knew what he'd done by inviting someone in here. His usually chipper face reflected a deeply serious concern, as those deep golden eyes flicked over his bookshelf. A glyph clicked away, as if warning him when the encroaching time would arrive. This meeting in particular was one that he would find a great amount of frustration with. He'd grown up on a farm prior to his arrival in Blairville, and the young man knew that animals wouldn't be treated the most humanely, despite his wants and needs. Karilius Oelin had the softest spot in his heart for black kittens, and just the idea of turning them into more powerful variations, as if they were weapons, was offputting to him. He tried to stymie his distaste for the necessity by instead thinking of them as house protectors, kittens who would save children when intruders popped into their homes, and it managed to ease his distaste, albeit only a bit. He hoped to whatever gods there were that this new interviewee would arrive already, so that this distasteful debacle could be finished already! @PurplePanda
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