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    Alterion Board Leader

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  1. Caesura OOC

    Ok, in reviewing the thread, I don’t feel comfortable superseding the BL’s decision to have the thread moved. I’m gonna have to go Carlito’s Way (Pacino, anyone? No?) on this one. It is ultimately their board and, even if my personal feelings did not coincide with Alexei’s own, I tend to defer to the board’s lore creator in regards to what can and cannot impact their lore. Touching on my my personal feelings here, I would like to see everyone find an amiable way to work out canon disputes so that all threads posted anywhere in valucre can be considered canon, but that’s more of a broad generalization about rp than this specific instance. That being said, I appreciate the civility I’ve seen (not sure if there was savagery at play elsewhere, but I do feel it’s important that respectable folk treat others with reapect) and do hope you guys can resolve your issues so that your characters’ personal plot lines are not impacted. So while technically it’s within my authority as board leader to request that the thread be moved, I prefer giving deference to Kadia’s creators. And tbh, I’d do the same if situations were reversed and you were sub-BL of Kadia/wherever under my purview. While I do genuinely understand the frustration on both sides, my official stance is that it’s Alexei’s call and I urge you both to retcon (if need be) and try to find a way to keep things moving as there was quite a bit of good writing done.
  2. Caesura OOC

    Who has summoned me? For clarity’s sake, I’ll review this—but my standard practice in most BL situations is that BL of nations/sub-nations in Alterion have total autonomy. So, in all likelihood, Kadia is Alexei and Aleksei’s and if they want something a certain way...that’s their playground. However, as I said, I’ll review the thread.
  3. Event is officially over. Will toss up a formal post (probably this weekend with winners, etc). Sorry things got so dead near the end, but RL > RP And when life is hectic, she be a hectic beast.
  4. the black sky blues [D1E]

    Growing up as a product of the Rebellion, Char knew better than most the importance of catharsis. As Feyd enveloped him in his arms, Char did not attempt to stop the wracking sobs that seized his body. As painful and, quite frankly, embarrassing as he found it—this ventilation of his emotions was necessary. It took less than a minute, but after an exhausting few moments, Char was able to gather his composure. Red rimmed eyes were swollen from exertion and Char found it impossible to breathe from his nose. Escaping from Fry’s grasp with a brotherly pat on the arm, Char blew his nose and nodded his head. His memories were still a jumbled mess, but he firmly believed that the evidence presented to him proved that he was more than likely Char and probably, most definitely, not Dojan Joon. There were some discrepancies he had yet to address and, truth be told, he had no desire to address them at the moment “We have to get to my...er, Dojan’s Office.” Char explained hurriedly. Scrambling towards the door, he spoke as he moved—leaping and sliding over a large lab station. “Dojan kept a security protocol active. If we don’t shut it down this whole island is going under.” Taking the stairs two at a time, Char bounded up the laboratory and barreled into Dojan’s private loft. He spun and keyed a series of numbers I tot he crystal data pad secured to the wall. A small electronic voice hummed a terse response. “B-R Zero Protocol Rescinded. Protocol will be Re-issued at 0800 hrs. “ The fact that he knew not only the location of Dojan’s security system, but about the security protocol and code was but one of the things that unnerved him. Char knew a great deal more about Dojan Joon than he’d ever thought possible. Not only did he see the man’s disgusting proclivities in action, but he saw loan numbers, account numbers, security codes, passwords...more mathematical information than Char even knew existed. He’d been terrible with numbers before their flight from Tall Jack Brass’s ship and subsequent crash. Now, they came as second nature to him. Rushing towards Dojan’s desk, Char pulled open the first drawer and sent several Manila folders flying as he tugged free a false bottom. A small leather bound ledger rested within, a crude drawing of a young girl on the cover. “This,” he declared, holding the ledger towards Feyd “...is all of Dojan Joon’s accounts. Everywhere he hid his money, every contact he had...it’s in here.” Pressing his knuckles to his temples Char bared his teeth. “And in here.” “This...” he exclaimed, gesturing to the entirety of the building. “Used to be a MaGNUS compound. I know where to find the weapons, the armor, operational funds...everything, Feyd.”
  5. Good Ol' Days

    Ocelot opened ruby lips to say something drenched in sass, as he imagined Mademoiselle de Mauxberry to be the pinnacle of sharp tongued retorts, but was stopped short by the brief flickering of lights. There was very little that could happen within the halls of the Cathedral without the High Mason knowing about it, but hubris proved the downfall of his predecessor. He tapped the crystal commlink upon his wrist and when he did not feel the answer returned, he sighed. “Well, fuck...” he said in his normal baritone, dropping any pretext of maintaining his disguise. With a flourish of his hand, Ocelot tugged free his disguise and stood before his flock in his usual dark trappings. It was more science than magic, with a well shaped synth skin mask, and shimmer fabric designed to bend light about his form as necessary. There were of course holo projectors that he could use, but as a master chef eschewed instant meals—Ocelot preferred things the old fashioned way. Ocelot stood almost a full head taller than Oliviette and wore neither make up nor hosiery...none that could be seen, at least. “My apologies,” He announced to his guests. I thought I had more time to play this game. I believe someone is attempting to kill me...or one of you. Leoa, Corvinus—may I impose upon the two of you and my brother in law to keep Nadia safe?” Protocols were protocols and when the First Sword did not respond to the High Masons distress signal the remainder of the Alterion military went to work. Exits were sealed with power armor ladened Poor Sons and Justicar at every check point. For good measure several members of RioT bearing various classes began searching the halls of the Cathedral for the source of the spike. Two men of Ocelots height and build entered the hall and sealed the door behind them. Garbed in dark Justicar uniforms and bearing ivory masks, the pair approached Ocelot and stood at attention. “Everything in the Cathedral is connected to the Crystal,” Ocelot explained. “Ev-er-y-thing.” Eyebrows furrowed in concern as the High Mason crossed his arms. “The lights haven’t flickered since Riva’s first Mason established the connection.” Turning to the men, Lot nodded. “Osprey. Owl. Protect the guests. Establish Barrier...4, I think. No, 5.” The pair moves to either side of the room and set down a small concaved disc. After tinkering with the device the men stepped forward just in time to erect an energy barrier at their backs. “There are three beings in the whole of Valucre that could have that effect on the Crystal. I’m one of them, another has been missing since the Cathedral was founded and the last is Grievous. Glancing over at Cross, Lot tugged at the base of his gloves. “Cross, I need you at my flank. You and I know Grievous’ capabilities better than most. Whatever is coming through that door may very well have killed him.” Producing a small device from his pocket, Ocelot extended his arm towards Lilium. “Dr Concordia, in all the time you’ve spent texting me I’m certain you’ve at least attempted to hack into my device. Kindly contact General Guyver and find out where in Riva’s horse cock name is Starfall and there are honestly worse times for us to test the mettle of your new army.” Without looking at any of them, Lot moved towards the entrance. “You’re all outside of that barrier because I can’t afford for a single one of you to be undone by something bad inconsequential as stray debris...also there is the distinct possibility I will need each and every one of you to stop whatever comes through that door.”
  6. • All or Nothing?

    This was a waste of his godsdamned time. Never mind the sheer idiocy of gathering all of the VII in one convenient location—the fact that most of the crew could barely stand one another seemed to be a point past belaboring. Deacon pauses at the entrance no less than three times, stalking footsteps leading him away from Babel tower each time in a huff of disdain. It proved harder and harder to keep the edge off his nerves—there were better things to do with his time. This team, if it must be called that, was a farce...the very idea of unity was a figment of man’s imagination. You were born alone, you suffered alone and you, sure as shit, died alone. Fingertips ran over gaunt aristocratic features beneath the mop of silver hair. Deacon decided he must have been homely, to begin with, why else would every face he plastered upon his skull be oozing with this much charm? It had to tie into his subconscious...probably? After staring at his reflection in the glass window pane for an achingly long moment, Deacon pressed his forehead against the cool surface. They liked to act tough. All of them did. They liked to say cool things, make grand entrances, tout their sociopathy...and for what? To impress each other? To impress themselves? No. No. No. It was to impress, Daddy. Ilos. The head honcho. The founder of the Feast. The big chief. The grand poobah. The prez. King of the Castle. Ruler of the roost. The mayor of ‘I told you so’ town. The Big cheese. The boss. Head of the House. They all served him, in some way. Deacon just did it under the nose of the most powerful entity in Alterion. He was allowed to be a little stressed. The trappings of a Radical were indiscernible from that of any Daius executive. A tailored black business suit fit his slender frame, well enough. When he had business at Babel Inc, he preferred wearing the face of the Black Deacon. It was easier to fit into the narrative that his Rebel persona led him to their door more than maintaining the face he wore whilst wandering the halls of Daius Tower. A mask was a mask, though and Genticide had worn so many for so long he wondered if he even remembered what his own face looked like. The only aspect that remained constant was the scar, that thin white mass of marred flesh was how he saw himself now...and honestly, it suited him just fine. Stepping through the door well after the last of them had settled in, Genticide remained at the back resting against the wall. It was easier to appear bored and detached than annoyed and put-out. Besides, Omni had the petulant child market cornered. Arms folded across his chest, as the disenchanted gaze moved towards the center of the room. If they expected him to make some clever quip upon entry, they were sorely mistaken. A bored sigh, is all that passed his lips as Genticide waited for the ordeal to come to a swift fucking conclusion.
  7. Good Ol' Days

    .oO(Posting this cus Grievous isn’t in the immediate vicinity and thus not really locked into the order.) Eyes went wide with shock, the initial pinch inconsequential to the jarring surprise of it. Though caught completely off guard, Grievous was still a Valiant and slammed his hand forward to take hold of her throat. The resulting force would have crushed her head to paste, but she disappeared as smoke through his grip, leaving a powerful arm to break through the stone column and embed itself in the wall. Grievous roared in anger, hyperventilating as he lost complete control of himself. He freed his arm with a vicious yank and spun about searching for the woman. She was nowhere to be found and the world was spinning. The hall of the cathedral rocked left and right, up and down, inside and out, spiraling into fractals if colors that Grievous couldn’t fully comprehend. He could feel it...whatever she’d injected him with it was moving. It might have been unnoticed had he been anyone else, but his connection to the Crystal and the eldritch power of a fell knight alerted him to the contamination. He could feel it rushing along his blood stream, towards the base of his brain. “Osric,” her voice—Daniella’s voice filled his head. He saw her standing there, as Aura speaking to him and he lashed out again, his fist kissing the air. Her smoky figure took shape out of his reach, once again. “They need to die, Osric.” Grievous let out a cry of rage as the minuscule nano-machines within his skull, bored into the pain center of his brain. Every fiber of his being was in complete and total agony. Dropping to his knees, Grievous slumped over and crawled towards her, his fingers tearing tracts into the flooring. Fighting with every ounce of control strength he possessed, Grievous engulfed himself in the eldritch fell magicks of his calling. He’d never called on so much, lights in the immediate vicinity flickered and the world reverberated around him.He sought to flood himself with power, to burn out whatever took root within him, but he could muster neither the strength or stability necessary to gain control. The last thing Grievous heard before the world went black was the name of the soul he was meant to kill. And Riva help him, he knew he was going to do it.
  8. Just a reminder, @Syncopy and I are still alive. Work has been hectic for both of us but we are still planning to drop the Class V monster soon. My goal is to get it live by the 15th. That will give everyone a little over two weeks to tackle it. For ca fresh boost we will have the Class V event in its own thread.
  9. the black sky blues [D1E]

    Char’s mind was a rope that bound soul, sense and personality to an otherwise empty vessel. And like a frayed rope, snapped under pressure, those thoughts and memories that made up Char separated and fell to disarray. He needed to gather the individual cords, weave them together and bind them. The insurmountable task before him, however, was picking where to start. At the moment confusion, more than rage saw him baring fangs at the other male. Try as he might the boy could not make sense of his situation. Reaching out in his mind he sought clarity and grasped at whatever information presented itself. ‘Char’ certainly sounded familiar—as good a place as any to start. He recognized the voice, but more the cadence in which it spoke. How could he forget? Char had been speaking for Feyd since the younger could string a sentence together. Snarling lips came to am abrupt halt and the draconic eyes took on an inquisitive gleam. The large noggin canted either direction in studious appraisal. Char tried to speak, but only low growls intoned from his throat. Observing the other youth’s form, Char tried to focus less on the whirling dervish of his thoughts and instead attempted to mimic Feyd’s form. It came as second nature, though Char couldn’t begin to guess why. The pained look upon Char’s face made it evident that while he recognized his brother, he didn’t know him. “I’m Char?” He asked, half pleading and half demanding. “Not Dojan?” Amidst his memories there was that name along with several other realities, he didn’t want to face. Tears welled up in his eyes, there was nothing but disgust and fear at the thought of Dojan Joon. “Because I remember things, Feyd—” his voice weighted with sorrow, caught in his throat. “I remember some really fucked up shit.” Char encircled his arms about himself. Fingers gripped biceps and Char shook, his eyes peering into the blood soaked floor—seeing more than a reflection staring back. “Did I do those things, Feyd? Did I do that...to...to—“ Char choker back a sob and shook his head violently. “Was that shit I did? Or was that done to me?!”
  10. Alterion Canon & Lore

    Place holder
  11. Vicious Criminals and unsavory sorts wanted

    No, it’s not disbanded. You’re not bailing on a group with people actively participating and enjoying shit. I’ll take command and handle any DA missions currently ongoing. PM me links, please for those of you currently finding yourself without a DM.
  12. [BYOB] | ...sanctuary - big trouble in little busuzhima

    The clay helped settle the restless mouths. Masticating in the churning maws it was softened and made more malleable, then kneaded and infused with Makaze’s own explosive metaphysica. It staved off his endless need to devour, but it did not fill the pit that formed in his stomach. The alchemically treated clay was only as filling as chewing tobacco or flavored gum—a distraction, not a solution. Makaze pocketed the resized clay birds that delivered them—he saw no sense in wasting them. Sure footing and a steady pace soon delivered the the trio to the outskirts of Little Busuzhima. As they made their way into the city streets, Makaze nodded his head. "That's right, we need to feed the tree as much energy as we can. Best way to do that is to expend as much energy as possible...and not just our energy." Makze gestured about the city, his black robe billowing with each movement. "Just remember as the tree grows in power, so too shall we." As he spoke, Makaze moved to hang behind the two shinobi. He hoped an explanation wasn't necessary, for as much as the pair were feeling out him--he was getting sense of their skills and abilities. The tryouts had begun and Makaze intended to report only the highest quality stock to his elder brothers. "I'm just here to supervise..." Makaze teased, chuckling. The kesshogan spotted what had to be their target, something he saw the other men note in a timely manner, as well. "You've found him..." Makaze nodded. "Lead the way, clear out any of the Hunters and if Kuten is among their number--don't let him report back. Entropy has stayed off the Syndicate's radar for quite some time now and we want to keep it that way." Makaze slipped his arms into the opposing sleeves of his robes and sighed. It was evident he didn't appreciate this last bit of news as much as his brother did. Ever the hot head Makaze would have liked nothing better than the storm the Kuten compound by himself. Still there was something to be said bout the element of surprise. "When we hit them, we want to them to be caught completely unaware." Makaze promised. "It serves nothing to let them learn of our presence so soon."
  13. the black sky blues [D1E]

    There are times, after a deep slumber where memories are lost to the aether of panic and confusion. In one’s sense of disarray they reach for whatever information clings to the dark corners of their mind and from these vestiges they are born as fact and reality. In this manner, a man might awaken in dread, fearing he’s wrought some terrible fate upon his relationships, only to find no such trouble existed in the first place. The intricacies of the human mind were baffling, at times, and brokered little suspicion from the owners when in the throes of an impassioned response. The last thing he remembered was the taste of freedom being snatched away from him. There were flashes of his identity: a comely face studying its reflection, wiry limbs moving deftly to avoid the bulk of a single-minded pirate hellbent on his destination, and bloodied hands clinging to the helm of an airship for dear life. There were other memories and sensations interposed throughout the instant, as well. The unwelcome sensation of foreign fingers on his flesh, touching parts of himself he felt not at all comfortable thinking about. He felt the heat of another's breath against the nape of his neck and a single name, repeated over and over in his head. Dojan. Dojan. Dojan. Eyelids fluttered in an effort to gain control. Dojan. This wasn't the first time his eyes were opened within the recovery tank, but it was the first time he was cognizant of it. Dojan. The pressure of the liquid bearing down on his burned more than he liquid itself. Dojan. His limbs felt stiff, but otherwise the solution that he floated in seemed to have kept him remarkably well put together. Dojan. The world took shape within the confines of his vision and as he took in his circumstance, a slender form floating in a tube of unknown liquid, he only saw the large studious eyes from a peripheral standpoint. Dojan. Upon the realization that it was massive eye peering at his, the youth let out a scream of terror, bubbles escaping from the edges of his breathe mask. Dojan. In response his own form shifted and changed, but only partially. Dojan. Instead of bare feet kicking at the glass, large talons surrounded in black fire left spiderweb cracks in the surface. Dojan. Another kick saw the entirety of the pod shattered as the youth was flooded out of the tank and onto the laboratory floor. Dojan. Rolling to his feet--no onto his underbelly, he rose onto his haunches, his scaled form now almost the exact size of the creature before him. Dojan. Draconic eyes went wide with suspicion and fear, and lips curled back to reveal massive razorsharp teeth. Dojan. "Who are you?!" He hissed. Dojan. "Who am I? What have you done to me?!"
  14. LEGEND| Izral

    — village of iron bamboo, kimpusen-ji In the beginning of indoctrination of Ninshu, the Kuten Syndicate brought forth the means of which to connect physical and spiritual energies to manifest what would later become Ninpo or Ninjutsu in Alterion. While most adhered to the principles Kuten proposed by the ancient creator and his familiars, there were those that felt that vital principles had been omitted and that the true essence of Kuten's vision was skewered. The result was the manifestation of Shugendo which became a common practice in those who believed in Kuten, but also believed that the path that he walked was one of blindness. Many would join Shugendo out of peaceful protests, others in hatred ofKuten altogether. While initially Shugendo manifested as the belief that the connection to spiritual power through the body meant developing a diamond disciplined mind, they became known as peaceful monks throughout: revered for their indelible manipulation of spiritual energy though strict regulation of the mind, though rarely to manifest as destructive forces. Their means was primarily to heal and help others in need. By synchronizing the body, the spirit, and the mind, they achieved a new height that superceded what shinobi (in the beginning) were capable of, outside of Kuten Syndicate's direct bloodline themselves. However as the centuries passed and members of the passive democracy of Kimpusen-Ji were slowly targeted and assassinated by rogue shinobi, shinobi of Kitashiobara, Luka'reccia, and other lesser villages with their own demanding ideals, a turning point was eventually found through the omen of a mysterious traveler. Coming at a time where the disdain of those who had lost loves ones and felt the sting of failure was at the forefront, a monster marched through the gates and demanded that all who practiced Shugendo turn their eyes to him. His power, was the complete opposite of Shugendo - it was a destructive power that destroyed the elements and twisted the world about his intense, dark aura. Only months past before the worshippers of Shugendo abandoned the faith of their ancestors to revel in the new power of a man who claimed to be their ancestor. The truth? He had come from Renovatio, an overlord of assassination in the underworld where they called him the Father of the Dark Arts: Gen. This marked the turning point in history for Kimpusen-ji. The village that was likened more to the lesser villages than that of a greater village became one of the most unstoppable forces in Izral in a mere decade. Their monks were trained to employ Anatsatsuken and when combined with their translation of the Art of Eight Limbs [derived of Renovatio] into the Nine Symbolic Cuts; Kuji Kiri - they become the most feared force in all of Izral with a hiearchy that remained unknown to even that of Kuten. Since then, generations more have past, and with the growth of their military regime and the indoctrination of their new Jikokou— Ishido Ryoku, they appear to be poised to once again declare war on all of Izral. The village is protected by thirty-six monks, with six active at all times in a hexagram that surrounds the entire kingdom. Any who should step foot within it against the permission of their lord or will have more than the monks to deal with. It is rumored that some of Kimpusen-Ji's elites have made contracts with fiends that build into the kingdom— in the walls, in the pillars, in the ground, and in any architecture within it. credit & point of contact: @dvsn
  15. a raucous RioT

    Heavy lidded eyes pass between the two new arrivals. They are new not only to this scenario, but to the coveted First Class ranking, as well. Starfall does not begrudge them this. Skill is to be recognized and rewarded within the Royce leadership. Ebony tresses are forced aside by an ill timed gust from the climate controlled environment, but Starfall makes no move to right this. He is not ignoring the pair, but rather studiously pondering the news he must deliver. “You two...” Starfall says evenly. “Have been given an assignment.” He does not speak of his exclusion, because he does not need to. While it is not uncommon for RioT of their caliber to turn down particular missions, this is not the case. Starfall can not fully blame The Daius or the Masons. He is under suspicion by those closest to the High Mason and Ocelot is right to be cautious in dealing with his protege. Starfall places the view crystal on the half ruined parapet to his side and a holographic display is issued. He moves towards Katar’s entry point, allowing the blonde man to better view the image on screen. “Souji Brightblade...” Starfall does not hide the envy in his voice. He has heard the name and he wishes a chance to test the targets abilities first hand. “Though he’s only a Captain, he’s one of the key figures within the Blackfire Raiders. He had a reputation for being one of MaGNUS’ best swordsman. And if you believe the rumors, they say he’s one of the best swordsmen in the world...” Starfall pauses at the door and offers the two a glance from over his shoulder. “The parameters are all listed within. Best of luck.” With that said, Starfall takes one final step before the training doors close shut behind him.