Jump to content


  • Content Count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

About Artificer

  • Rank
  • Birthday April 15

Profile Information

  • Gender
  • Location
    United States

Recent Profile Visitors

1,109 profile views
  1. Hey guys.

    Over the last few weeks (as you all have probably noticed), my activity has dropped from posting immediately after a response to several week interludes. This semester is a lot busier than I originally anticipated, and I'm not sure if I will actually be able to fit writing in with role-play.

    I am deeply sorry to those of you I am questing with, as I have made you all wait with no explanation. I was being selfish, putting off this news until later since I thought I would be able to manage the task of designing and running quests while in school; however, I have been buried in homework assignments and work ever since I began the semester, and have not really had a chance to reply.

    For this reason, I do not think I will be able to continue on Valucre for this school semester, and I will probably only be able to continue again once winter break starts in December. I'll be asking some members of the quests I am running if they will be able to continue as DM in my stead, and link them to the materials necessary for continuing said quests. If this is not possible, then I would have to ask if we could continue said quests in the winter.

    Again, I am very remorseful for the current situation, and I must apologize again.


    Your Friend,

    - Arty


    1. Show previous comments  4 more
    2. Deus Ex Aizen

      Deus Ex Aizen

      As usual, the server will have a cozy fire waiting for you when you return~

    3. roboblu


      Without my nemesis I will be allowed to thrive, unchecked, extending my reach to the deepest, darkest corners of Valucre. Heh heh heh heh heh heh

    4. Witch


      🐥 good luck with your semester! 

  2. School has started, and I am drowning in bijections and weird counting proofs. S.O.S., patience appreciated ;~;

    1. Deus Ex Aizen

      Deus Ex Aizen

      Don't die. You are missed! I should probably post in the Quest...

  3. ISABELLA LORAINE VALMER When she opened her eyes, it was the moment before impact, and everything was white. She could feel the man's tense grip around her waist suddenly come unfastened as her body plunged into the snow. Then, as there was white, there was then black, her head plunging into the snow before she bounced across the white powder and onto a field of exposed permafrost. Everything spun as she herself rolled, and she suddenly felt the characteristic cracking along her hip as she accidentally crushed one of the bottles within her engineer's belt. You see, Izzy was never the type to be unprepared when entering the bellows and doing her work, and sometimes, things got messy... and somewhat explosive. Because of such dangers, she never left for work without her trusty tools. These items let her deal with a majority of things that could go wrong, and on numerous occasions, saved her from small scratches to potential dismemberment. Such tools also included a few limited curios which were a one-time-use-only commodity, but were invaluable in her profession. She just hoped she didn't set off the wrong one. Then, suddenly, from her side, her belt exploded with a somewhat foamy gel with smelled of burnt leather and hummed and sizzled, yet on closer inspection, was not hot, but rather extremely cold to the touch. Additionally, as the microscopic bubbles formed, one would notice the circles stretching as they stuck to the locations where she hit the icy ground. If one were to place their hand on it, they would immediately relent as the material was in reality a strong binding agent..., so in other words it was extremely sticky. Feeling the slimy, sticky foam on her frostbitten skin, Izzy could feel relief that she had broken one of the less dangerous tools. It was a quick-sealing agent for the furnaces in case of minor (or major) ruptures, and served as a temporary, resilient fix for such incidents. Still, it was going to be hell to get off her skin, her hair, and her clothes.... if that would even be possible. Her acceleration decreased rapidly yet smoothly as her gel-foam covered body gripped the ground, and instead of a deadly roll down a slope into a wooden post which would most assuredly snap her back, she slammed into the tree at a survivable speed. Regardless, the impact knocked the wind from her, and when she opened her eyes, noted a dull, throbbing pain from her back. Slowly, but surely, she stretched her fingers outward, and clenched them into fists. "Great," she thought, "I am not paralyzed. That is one hell of a miracle." Then, a figure approached from the side, feet stepping in the foamy adhesive. "I'll live," she whispered, followed shortly by a whooping cough. It was absolutely frigid, and the endothermic reaction of the setting gel was starting to suck more heat from her body then the cold air around. "I'll admit though... it's so... freaking... cold." Skin pale and teeth jittering, the energy was sucked right out of her. How was she going to pull herself out of that gooey mess before she became affixed to the ground like concrete? Landing from several thousand feet in the air was definitely a physically and mentally exhausting activity. @Twitterpated
  4. NADIA VIVIANNA AURELL Freezing. The temperature of the air was freezing. The Cold South was truly a monstrous force of nature, keeping temperatures in its thrall, low and unmoving, even at the peak of summer. Still, there was also the hot streams of air which spiraled around her as well, currents brought up from the fireball beneath her. It was a dance of two winds, a stark dichotomy between two unrelenting forces which Nadia knew could kill in fifty ways. Nadia had to think quickly, feeling a faintness within her head. She was breathing, but it was as if she wasn't breathing at all, and a slight stupor began to come over her. Dozens of bodies were now flailing around in the air, some silhouettes blacker then others with a smoldering trail, and now she had to find a way to save them. She spread her arms out in an attempt to reach for them, but instead went up, letting the wreckage descend faster than she. In a hypoxia-drunken state, she tried the opposite to see if it would let her descend, tucking her arms in an turning her body into a needle. Down, down she flew. She was laughing, was she laughing? She couldn't tell at this point. All she knew was that the world was spinning, and that the golden-colored hair came back into view, some several feet above the deflated blimps which once helped stabilize the ship. Was he conscious? Unconscious? A state in between? Such needless thoughts couldn't help but make her giggle. Up more than a mile in the air, she was giggling like a maniac, losing herself. That was strange, her fingers looked a bit blue now didn't they? And her skin... was the cold numbing it? She felt tired, and sleepy. Perhaps she could close her eyes, rest a bit on a cloud perhaps... no she would just fall through. Images were fading to black as she neared closer to Mensa, and she was being lulled into a quiet, quiet dream. Yes, this was all a dream wasn't it? The snow, the blanket of white. Her friends! Her teammates were here. Levity, Drephna, Karrion. They were all here, but there was a fourth, a fourth who was facing away. Face turned in the mid-day fantasy, and she saw that trademark grin and felt everything come rushing back. No, she couldn't rest. She had to fight it — fight the urge to let fate take the wheel. Eyes fluttered open as heavy lids drew themselves forcefully open. He was right there: so close she could kiss Mensa — that is, if she was any bit attracted to him in that manner, which we was not. "M...Mensa," she staggered, speech halted by her gasping for air, breathless from what was happening. "H... hold on..." She drew her one arm around the man, and slowly, yet carefully wove her words into plates of clear, magic armor. It was shoddy, but hopefully it would be enough to survive the hellish descent.... Never before had she been in this situation, so there was only one way to find out if it would work. As the armor began to form around her, she could no longer could control her location relative to the ship as she was now holding onto a second individual for dear life: a falling double pendulum swinging chaotically through the air, attached to nothing but the wind itself. Bump after bump, they hit shrapnel and floating corpses, and a few dismembered individuals who could have either been dead or alive. The armor was almost finished, and once it was, nothing would get in nor out. It was a shame she would only be able to save Mensa. At least that was she thought, until the next "corpse" she bumped into suddenly latched onto her. Head turned back, barely catching the tangle of russet hair streaming out and about. He was small, a boy most likely, and the desperate look in his steel-gray eyes spoke more than any words which could have been spoken between the two at that point. He wanted to live. And with that, the barrier was erected around the three just as they came crashing into the evergreen treeline, slightly cushioned by the branches and leaves, but ultimately cannon balling through a trunk and becoming embedded deep into the snow and dirt. The mind-fogged haze cleared, and all Nadia felt was pain. Pain all around, pain within her core, on her skin, on the tips of her hairs. But still, she was alive. Undoubtedly alive. And that was all that mattered. @Grim Wolf
  5. ALARICK RADOLF MERCIER As the boy was wallowing within his self-created sea of dark humors, he was abruptly thrown out of his brooding and into his metal locker — face-first, as luck would have it. The door crumbled inward as the rusted hinges suddenly broke, allowing Alarick to become fully submerged within the metal container, stars dancing in view. "What... the hell," he groaned, feeling his weight shifting around. Then came a harsh metallic scream, one which emanated from the exterior hull and traveling inward, shaking the entire room he was in. Whatever was happening, it was most certainly not an issue with the engine. Among all of the issues he had dealt with as a airship deckhand, the jerk and jounce were far to pronounced. Only one possible explanation came to mind, and it was not a good one: they were being attacked. Quickly, the boy scrambled to his feet, only to find himself suspended aimlessly within his cabin. What happened to gravity? Thankfully, given the small size of his room and his nimble dexterity, Alarick was able to maneuver around the flotilla of floating objects. Coins, pictures, pillows, clothes, they were all suspended midair. Still, the boy knew what he needed to grab. The glint of slightly unsheathed steel caught his eye, giving location to one item he needed if they were being attacked. Then came the fine black leather-skin pack which pockets fastened tightly. Finally came the last target: a small, curved piece of wood, unstrung cord dangling aimlessly from one end. One... two.. three! With a kick, he catapulted himself across the room, grabbing what he could. One hand towards the knife, and with a twist, other hand spun towards the pack. Two in hand, he slid on into the other, and grabbed the third: his nimble bow. He hadn't survived all these years just by tending to ships. People didn't take kindly to him when he was orphaned, so he had to take matter into his own hands when it came to protecting himself. Thankfully, the skills he had gained up to that point proved their use much later. No parents were there to protect him, of course, so he was of course on his own. "Escape, I need to find an escape." he thought calmly. Head spun as he tilted his neck, looking around for some kind of exit. No way he could open the door at this rate, the frame warped in and contorting the door into a smaller shape. While he could try, he knew his options were limited, and wasting time on such a fruitless pursuit would not yield useful results. The window was an option, but would he be able to crack through the hardened glass, tough as steel? There was so little time, and far too few options, and with all of the mounting pressure, the deck-hand did not realize the growing heat within the cabin. Ears caught the sound of something akin to a wild flurry of wind, approaching fast. It was from the outside, and it sounded closer, and closer, approaching the room with accelerating speed. What in the world could it have been? Marred between the brief pops and crackling, the boy hadn't the faintest idea what it was until it whooshed past in a flare of harsh golden light. The air became hotter than an oven for just a brief moment, the metal wall of the window now glowing a fierce orange before inevitably cracking under the temperature stress. Had it been a few more seconds, the boy would have most assuredly been fried, but the flames came so fast and left so quickly that the room had opened, letting a flash of cold and hot air in whilst also sucking the child out. That was when Alarick found himself flying not in the burning hell he was almost trapped in, but through the frigid airs of the Cold South.
  6. NADIA VIVIANNA AURELL As the ship was torn asunder, the ex-lieutenant felt the ground disappear from beneath her as her body suddenly became weightless soon followed shortly by a collision with the high vaulted ceiling of the airship study. There was a thump against the thick tempered glass skylights, and the sound akin to crackling ice. The blow would have stunned her had she not seen the monsters terrible visage peering down through the clouds in the last few milliseconds and tensed her body in preparation for the sudden assault. Still, her vision went white for a moment, the kinetic energy rattling her brain. When she came too, she was floating within the large room, shelves of mottled papyrus and dusty tomes lit ablaze. The smell of burnt paper permeated the air, along with the acrid stench hinting slightly of chemicals and the all too familiar odor of charred flesh. "Mensa." She was just standing next to the mage. Nadia could feel panic wash over her body; if something happened to yet another one of her teammates, she didn't know if she would be able to handle it. Then without warning came his faultless smile: Marius's faultless, precious smile. Why now? Why here of all places? Why did she have to remember it now? A pain grew in her chest at the thought of losing him was unbearable, and now the thought of losing yet another previous comrade? Eyes darted left and right, looking frantically for the man, but was to no avail — the blackened glass above suddenly shattering. The entire cabin room was pulled out, flaming books, chairs, tables, Nadia and all, sucked out by the sudden change in air pressure. Her eardrums felt like they were going to burst as her eyes and forehead felt a pressure growing within. While Nadia was able to survive the initial impact, would she be able to brave the fall? Then, through the flames, she caught a glimpse of straw-colored hair, no hat to cover it and exposed to the ravaging air passing through the descent. It was him. Mensa's form was rigid, desperately holding onto the rail which so precariously swung back and forth, side to side from its last hinge. Then came an explosion from the side, knocking the last bolt undone, sending both the flailing metal railing and Mensa off into the air. "Mensa!" she yelled, voice lost among the high pitched screech of metal cutting through the wind. @Grim Wolf
  7. Artificer

    The Wolf Masquerade

    SNIPE "You don't want to know," he said, knowing far to well that the group would never be a match for the seemingly endless armies of wolves at the disposal of their cruel alphas. "Hundreds... thousands... too many to count." His voice had a somewhat bitter tone in it as he spoke his next few words: "And more are being turned by the hour." Helping Beris down the steps, the wolf-man couldn't help but think about the narrow circumstances that led to his improbably escape from that hell hole. Sure, his mind was not twisted nor enslaved like the rest, but his body was too far gone now. He had almost been added to their ranks. Still, he would not speak of it. He would never speak of it. It was not the right time, and he was not ready to divulge any more than the meager words he had just spilled. It was personal, and he did not know this man, or rather know any of these men yet. There was an odd silence as the two descended down the ladder into the basement, joining both Khakina and Dan. "That dog that took your arm was only a runt of the pack.... They only get bigger... and more ruthless." @Fennis Ursai @HollowCipher @Zashiii
  8. Artificer

    The Wolf Masquerade

    DROMERUS DAENALDYN Yes, Dromerus, dwarven splendor of the Northern Rim, was still alive. Yes, he was almost mauled half to death for disobeying some stupid wolf. Yes, he had risen from the watery grave to deal cold death upon the scraggly mutts who dared challenge him. Was he just going to be some minor character standing on the sideline and wait for rescue? No. Was he going to fail his mission? No. Could he physically see enough to accomplish said mission (given the darkness and rank clouds of foul gas of the sewers)? Yes — dwarves lived underground, and thus have excellent vision in low-visibility subterranean expanses... this was his environment. Dromerus was in his element. And finally, Yes. He was pissed. Eyes slimmed as he focused on the creatures up ahead. The wolves corralling the rider and his dragon were distracted by the man's sudden fall, and so the dwarf axeman decided now was a better time than any to rain down a little hell on these suckers. He'd make them pay. Maintaining his silence as he circled from behind, swimming underwater to mask the all-to-obvious scent of blood, the dwarf held his weapon near the neck of the handle, at the base of the axe-head. As one wolf in the back turned towards the man, the dwarf seized the opportunity and grabbed its hind leg, and with all the force he could muster, yanked the creature back towards the water. The wolf must have been surprised, giving a brief yelp in dismay as it's padded feet slipped on the slicked-slime, all frozen, slippery, and whatnot. Then, with deft movement, the dwarf threw himself over the wolf's back, shoved the dog underwater, and ran the edge of his blade across the creature's throat. One down, many more to go. He hoped the rider was ready to fight. @roboblu
  9. Someone help -- a week off has put me into a creative slump. I have lost my inspiration, and I need to find it ._.

    1. Witch



    2. Phoebe


      Elaborate please, Peter.

      But otherwise, here’s all I’ve got:

      Bosses! Wolves! Obstacles played just like PCs! Gorey deaths! Sacrifice! Injury! Pain! Heartbreak! Heartache! 45 minute shadow clone jutsu!

      Alright, that’s all I’ve got 😄

    3. supernal


      What kind of stuff usually inspires you? I don't want to send paintings to someone that prefers music!

  10. Artificer

    The Wolf Masquerade

    SNIPE The fall seemed to have taken the wolf-man by surprise, and the way to boy landed knocking all breath out of the beast. The damn kid wasn't heavy, but the gun had pushed hard against Snipe's throat whilst the boy's elbows dug in between his ribs. Skull knocked against the floor hard, sending a constellation of stars straight into sight, and then, before the werewolf even knew it, the kid had crawled off his body. Touching the palm of his hand to his brow, Snipe gave the boy a glare as Frygg skulked down the stairs, out of sight and out of mind. He was somewhat impressed that the kid even had the power to overtake him, but then again, the Lady was extremely distracting... in all the wrong ways. Speaking of which, he turned back towards the woman, eyes widening ever so slightly as her hand down the dire wolf's throat. Only Valjer knew what the woman was doing, arm plunged deep into a fresh kill. Normally, when such game is killed, you'd butcher it and eat the flesh, but it seemed that the woman had other ideas in mind. Ears caught the faint, unearthly gurgling noise emanating from the dead dog's corpse was a hint; however, Snipe didn't want to entertain any theories as to what was happening. Head turned towards Beris, the man who had both saved Snipe and was saved by Snipe. His one hand clutched a knife glowing red with the heat of the hearth, and on the other side where his arm was torn soon glowed all the same. Magic. It was comforting to know that they had one well versed in the arcane arts that was not a teenager. Surely, the man would have more wisdom than such party. "I've been better," Snipe admitted, giving a dogged half-smirk as he got up calmly. His legs still stung from whatever blasted winds had hit him earlier, but he still had much energy left in him. Additionally, now was not the time to show weakness. This was the Cold South, and the Cold kills all the weak. Still, there was the several issues that pressed him in the back of his mind. What were they going to do about the two injured party members? Could the new group trust him —a werewolf? What were they going to do with the pack closing in? Knowing all to well of the dangers that were coming, he gave Beris a dead look in the eye: "We get away from here — get somewhere safe. Where is your mage heading?" The teenager was descending the flight of stairs with Khaki in tow, so surely the kid had some sort of escape plan. Snipe could help fend off a few wolves, but he wouldn't be able to protect both of the injured.... he needed that mage. No double, no cheap familiar. The wolves of Cobran were ruthless, and they'd kill the stragglers with ease as they almost had accomplished with the shaman and the lady. Limping over to the one-armed man, he extended his clawed hand out. The man was going to need some help getting down the stairs given his injuries, no? @Fennis Ursai @HollowCipher @Zashiii
  11. @Fennis Ursai @HollowCipher @roboblu @Zashiii @Deus Ex Aizen @Grim Wolf @Frostbinder @danzilla3 @Grubbistch @HumanBean03 @Acies ab Vesania @Twitterpated 

    First of all, for those of you who have been waiting on me to post, let me apologize for my prolonged absence and lack of communication for the past few days. Things have been a bit hectic lately with regards to my schedule as I've been busy sorting out things. This entire week I've been getting ready to move into my new apartment as well as prepping myself for the upcoming semester, so I haven't had too much free time for myself. I will be getting posts out for Wolf Masquerade, Dragon's Circle, and Floracle soon (~1-2 days), so please bear with me. Again, thank you for your patience! I'm not disappearing abruptly like I've done in the past 😉 — I'm here to stay this time!

    - Your Friend,


    1. Deus Ex Aizen

      Deus Ex Aizen

      You're good, fam. I'm on vacation and by the time I get back we'll both be in school. You're in the server, I gotchu elsewhere. If you ever need anything just poke at me. Do all the great things, and I'll catch you on the flipside.

    2. roboblu


      I resent you 

    3. Artificer


      Update: setting up this apartment with my roommates is turning out to be longer than expected.

  12. If this is any excuse, my recent inactivity is due to my ceaseless consumption of the Kingkiller Chronicle. Please forgive me -- it is a great series ._.

    1. Show previous comments  1 more
    2. Artificer


      ^^^^^^^ IK T_T

    3. Artificer


      What's their plan? What's their plan?

      Chandrian, Chandrian.

    4. supernal


      I forgive you partially for having good taste, but the rest of the not forgiving is for want of more robust time management skills. You can have both!

  13. Artificer

    The Wolf Masquerade

    FRYGG FYNNVARTHR Finger still on the trigger, Frygg raised his weapon with reluctance, grasp trembling. On one hand, his mind was screaming to shoot the horrid husk that was Lady Khakina, but on the other hand, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Her voice — the same quality as so many who have fallen to the plagues of Whispernight before — sounded genuine and human despite grotesque appearances. Then again, who could say if she was a fiend in disguise — a monster with a stolen voice, one that did not belong to her, but rather used as a lure to ensnare said victims? The ooze had so easily eaten a wolf more than twice its size, and just looking at the frozen expression of terror on the dead dog's face was enough to elicit fear in the boy. Still, would his teammates honestly fall prey to such vile filth? His breath was unsteady as his heart was still pounding, hands shaking with aching trepidation. Speechless — utterly speechless as he snatched his bag. He couldn't take this. Khakina was his teammate, but then again, a complete stranger. Same with the rest of them. As much as he wanted to help, he couldn't stand to be in the abomination's presence. If his team members were to trust both a lycanthrope and a being who was clearly not human, then so be it. Dan, having disappeared into air and reappearing sometime shortly, could take care of them, right? Sure, the boy was just a teenager; however, he seemed so sure of himself and was confident in his abilities. Frygg didn't doubt the boy could hold himself, even against the sinister forces of Whispernight. Stepping off of the werewolf he was sitting on, the rifleman stumbled, backed away against the wall, heading towards the stairs without breaking eye contact with Khakina, keeping the wolf-man in the corner of his vision. He felt bad for the one-armed man, having to have killed the white wolf which burst out unexpectedly... the shaman was clearly injured already, but still, he had no hesitation when it came to doing what needed to be done. If only Frygg had that kind of quality — the ability to do what was right when it needed to be done. Everything was so comical. While he was already in his twenties, it didn't seem like he had aged a bit since childhood. The gun was just a show, wasn't it? A simple facade, a mask of bravery. He wasn't qualified at all to be a fighter, he was was still just a boy who still grieved for his family, still shedding tears months after the fact. Fists tightened as he realized how stupid it all was. Thousands of children across Genesaris have lost loved ones to the terrors of Whispernight, forever scarred by its relentless assault. Who was he to think that he was the only hurt one on the continent, that he was the only one in pain? Was it selfish of him to even embark on such a journey, a self-entitled boy on a quest to try to get revenge for his brother — his mother... for Kuratel? Everything that he said he was standing for, he questioned. What the hell was a metalworker doing out in monster-infested ruins anyways? The woman's eye's were glassy, as if desperately fighting against her fate, and yet Frygg could not bring himself to sympathize with her. Too deep did his own scars run for him to even trust such a creature. He was not naive like those so desperate to find humanity in the savagery of Whispernight. Sorry, Khakina. He will never trust you. Whatever they said now would fall on deaf ears, the boy having already made up his mind. Walking down the steps, he did something stupid, and took towards the front door. He would take this journey back home, where ever that was now. Thoughts of the white wolves became second only to his desire to leave. Foolish, yes, but Frygg was a fool, one who walked into the raging blizzard. He would go on his own, and no one was going to change his mind. The rifleman would rather die fighting against monsters than trust a single one. Never again would he place his faith in something that pretended to be human... not after what happened in Kuratel. Like a dagger to his heart, the memory pained him. "Brother." @Fennis Ursai @HollowCipher @Zashiii
  14. REYNARD SVEN GRAYWACKE 'Click.' 'Tap.' Pain. 'Click.' 'Tap.' Pain. Laughter, at least when the children ran by, smiles plastered on their stupid faces — as they ran, yes, ran. Reynard's eyes narrowed at the sight of them; he would have killed to be sprinting as fast as those vagabonds, hell, he would kill just to walk normally like everyone else on two legs. Every step, every stride was a reminder of that wretched day, his hand now glued to a cane which he could not afford leaving the house without. It was a gnarled branch at that, and in his opinion, was somewhat tacky with its elvish looks. Looking down at the branch, the former mercenary relented — he looked like an old man walking around with the damned thing. Three times that day, people had asked if he needed assistance with the huge bag he was rolling around. He told them they could 'piss off.' Months of endless pain had made him somewhat bitter, nights ending with drinks of alcohol which no longer numbed the pain. God, it was all infuriating. Then, a large, intimidating gray hound cut in front of him from behind — a fearsome beast at that, standing higher than his waist —, and yet, with that, Reynard smiled. It was Seb, his loyal companion. Gripping the knob of the cane tightly, he bent down on his other knee as combed his hand through her long, shaggy fur. "Who's a good girl," he murmured, until she had the gall to lick his face. "Gah, get off," he said with a chuckle, nudging the pup off before getting back up onto his good leg. She was the only thing in his life that didn't leave him, and being with her numbed his pain, at least, for a bit. Suddenly, there was a crippling pain which shot straight up through his thigh as someone bumped him from behind. "Oh, sorry!" the person yelled, as they ran by. "Aghh... Watch yourself!!!" Reynard hissed, grabbing his right thigh in sheer agony. Every time when something touched it, there was always a throbbing, shattered fragments of his femur jostling at the slightest disturbance. His eyes threw daggers at the offender. Kids didn't care about anyone but themselves now, did they? It was people like these who made him hate going to the market. Granted, he had just arrived in Casper but a few days ago, and it was a change of pace for the mercenary — the idyllic life of living in the city. He had thought that this would be an ideal place for getting back on his feet being a port and all. The man needed some form of income, and he thought that his trade would make it easy living out here — adventurers and whatnot passing through every so often. No one told him that the godforsaken city was built on a slope. Regardless, he would never make it living in the new area without first proving his skill in his craft, so he needed materials. He had already stopped by the curio shop earlier, procuring pickled organs and other such trinkets for brewing. Now, all he needed were plants... and not just for his customers, but for himself. Word around town was that the local apothecary had just reopened with a gamut of plants, flowers, and other herbs, and he was going to take advantage of the opportunity. The opening of a shop usually means sales... at least from his experiences back in Shrine City. Walking up to the nearby intersection of roads, he stopped briefly as the bustling crowds crossed. Rummaging through his side pocket, he pulled out a thin strip of paper which he had written the name of the shop on earlier. On it, in messy inky handwriting was the name: 'Floracle.' Eyes shooting back up, he turned his head side to side, searching for the shop's sign, until he spotted an assortment of multicolored bouquets adorning the front of one shop, fresh herbs lining wooden baskets in the distance. On the front of it, he could barely make out the big, stylized letters: '~ F L O R A C L E F L O W E R S H O P & A P O T H E C A R Y ~.' He was there.... Now he just needed to cross the street.... Where the hell was Seb? ◆ ◆ ◆ SEB With a puff of smoke and a few sparks and embers, the somewhat huge mastiff had suddenly appeared between a few aisles in the strange shop full of flowers and herbs. Wouldn't her master be surprised to find that she had beat him to the place? She couldn't wait to see the look on his face. Seb was a smart cookie. With a confident, excited gait, the dark gray mastiff bounded out, tongue lolling out from her mouth as she panted with elation. The building smelled wonderful! So much different then the dingy, old house of the two's previous abode! Then again, she missed the other master, but regardless, it was a scene to behold. Running around, knocking over a few small saplings, tripping over vines, and even breaking a pot of two, the dog ran around in the new exciting jungle. There were blossoms, fruit even! It was so amazing! Talking? People! Talking people! Seb loved people. Quickly dashing out into the main divide, the mastiff nearly slipped as she turned with great haste, toppling some perennials. Eyes locked on a man who looked somewhat glum behind a counter. His eyes were pretty, bright blue like the sky. Was he bored? Perhaps he wanted to play? Was that the human who just talked!? Caspian!? No way! Was that his name? No matter! She cared not — whoever the man was, the two were going to be best friends... right? She would cheer him up! Breaking into a full sprint, the massive dog bounded across at great speeds with tongue in the wind, flecks of saliva flying from her face. Then, with her two powerful legs, she leaped at the man behind the counter with front paws extended, ready to give the man a hug of a lifetime! Yes, she would land on him and make him submit with a torrent of kisses! She was smiling as much as a dog could, air forcing her cheeks into an even wider happy-face. This was going to be great! ♥ υ´• ﻌ •`υ ♥ @carrionjackal @roboblu
  15. * boops *

    1. Wade


      chicken shawarma

    2. Artificer


      Bibimbap barrage!