Aleksei

My skeletons. They'd be met at the door and allowed out. That would make more sense being that The Dead is currently establishing themselves within the club. It would be easier for @amenities and I to dictate what happens, considering we are in charge.

Won't drop the wards but will have people escorted out.

Ronan watched with a bemused smile painting his handsome face. Marina was never the sort of woman to just sweep things under the rug; she forced you to live in the moment and be condemned for your failures, while also praising you openly for your successes. The woman has helped raised more than homes and fields; she had helped keep all their hearts elevated above-troubled waters, carrying the burdens of their hurt and pain. Milorian has praised her often enough that it is now just casual conversation to say how much Marina is loved. Ronan knew that Marina is the thin string genuinely keeping them together; she is an obstacle that is inadvertently protecting Milo. He kept still, watching the two interact. From his perch, he could see the fiery glow of Marina's emerald hues, and he could nearly feel the crackling electricity bouncing from her form when Gawyne added to the storm. She was trying to slap the impudent man hardest again, knowing that he would not allow another attack on his person, removing her opportunity to comfort her needs. "Don't you dance around the subject, Gawyne!" Fire and brimstone, her voice was a threatening sound that shook their shores. He had left his family to struggle without him, left them so he could deal with his demons when he could have come to them. Were they not worthy to carry his burdens? Did he not trust them enough to assist him in the fight against the demons licking his heels? If not, why was he back if his family is a hindrance to his growth? Trusting him to acclimate back into the fold of his home and order is going to be difficult, she had even told Milorian this some time ago. Whatever explanation he thinks will calm the storm, it's best he rethinks it. After Austere's family was slaughtered, he had returned to Milorian's side to preach to the masses for reform. Days after Soleil was finally claimed dead; Marina ran into the fires to fight for those who had no one else to fight on their behalf. Perhaps it was to dull the pain that they returned to fight for their home or maybe it was more for heftier selfish reasons. Whatever they were, it helped ease them into a life without the Tyrant King and their lost loved ones. They hated, they scorned, they cried and waited until there was nothing else to do but laugh, smile, and carry on. "You run, tail tucked, and come here with honeyed words as if they matter any more." She spat out the hateful words before turning away, leaving him in her dust. "I missed you too." Ronan laughed, patting his brother on the shoulder. It was good to have him home, where he belongs amongst the wreckage of their growing home. He has missed much, something he would be able to see from the floating woolybugs, the hidden herds of halla and elk, to the terraced rice fields off in the far distance. There are a variety of stalls down at the market, and their docks have a few ships occupying it; for a moment, it's hard to tell that the Free Marches had been destroyed by a terrible Tyrant. "Mother and father will be so excited to know you're home! We will quickly send word to Milorian."

"The people of Renovatio worship a whole slew of gods," she said, keeping the woman's face in the web of her fingers. Renovatio is a strange place where it's gods are real. From time to time they come down from their lofty clouds to either bless or damn their people. Through the pages of history many of them have assisted the denizens of the floating paradise, but in turn, they've also tested the people. It's said that Renovatians are individuals taken from the blood of their All-Creator, a God named Primus who has reaped his horrors and wonders through time. "The most recent one is Steorra, the Goddess of the Moon." By now the tips of her fingers are fully dipped beneath the skin of the torn slave. The woman hadn't made a sound thus far, but the look of excruciating pain is painted across her bruised features. The buyer likes to think that it is by the might and power of the Manabai'wok that the broken doll was capable of withstanding the intrusion. Good, she smiled, she isn't entirely gone. There is a weakness in this particular creature; she could smell it and even feel it on the tips of her fingers as she played with the woman's mind. This weakness will be rooted out; they have no room for defective products. Taking a steadying gulp of air, she pressed her fingers deeper; going through the woman's skull and stopping right on the edges of her brain. In a moment of disgust, she shuddered - it's a bit hard to get used to that slimy feeling. Once she had described it as touching a fresh slug. "Renovatio has gates that open up to the heavens, revealing a particular star. Those stars are Steorra's Manabai'wok; they are her protectors, creatures of immense power and strength." The woman went limp; her eyes rolled in the back of her head as the buyer messed with her memories. "This one though was the manabai'wok she had given to the man she loved. That makes her the oldest lived manabai'wok and also the strongest." Blackness started to creep over her fingers the more she meddled about. "Grab her shoulders; this will probably wake her up."

He thought the question over for a minute. Reaching into the space above his head, he grasped the imaginary crown and set it down atop the table. Titles in his homeland mean a great thing, they're what separates a man from a slave, a slave from the dirt, and dirt from water. His father held the crown of Maharaja high enough that he could block out the sun, yet he didn't for he was a gracious man who had loved his home and its people. "In a way, you could say that! I come from a very noble family with bottomless pockets," he chuckled while rubbing his fingers together. "We elect our Maharajas. Before my father, the Maharaja was from the Water court - a woman. Before she was another individual from the Water Court, and before them someone from the Earthen Court, so on and so on." The elections are a grand thing to behold. Nine days full of celebration; dancing, drinking, singing, and gaming for the more enthused. The streets are packed as the people tell tales of their electives in hopes that they will be picked. When his father had been elected, Harshal and his sister were still babes, barely a month old. Because of it, Harshal has known no other life other than an extravagant one full of reputable shenanigans. "To become an elective, you must come from a noble family; no common man is allowed just to throw his name in the bag. If you are a common man who has worked his way to nobility, that is accepted, but chances of winning are slim." Kalopsia has its ways that may be deemed backward to some. Their system of slavery is frowned upon in most parts of the world while some understand and accept such ideas. Harshal is conflicted in a way, for he sees slavery as a beneficial thing to his homeland that his thrived upon the backs of slaves. They are treated kindly, paid well, just some of their freedoms are restricted, but that is only fair. "We have a caste system. Altus, which are the upper class - me, for example. Laetan, middle class and then Soporati for everyone else. Slaves are a branch off Soporati due to their livelihood." His smile grew far and wide, "I traveled here with a slave, her name is Shanti. We were sent here by our Maharaja on a mission, and she has been a reprieve to my grief."

"Kalopsia is a major trading hub. A majority of said trade is human; slavery is an enormous part of its economy." It would appear that it's her turn to be boisterous by speaking before the other three had a chance. John looked interested in this small group of individuals, so she will do her best to show him that she is not only capable but extremely willing to do what is necessary to facilitate his needs better. Eliza may look small and delicate, born and raised to be such, there is a raging want to be something more than what she was bred to be. "There are four courts: Wind Court, Water Court, Fire Court, and the Earthen Court. Each court has their way of doing things and often look for a middleman to deal with the logistical standards that are beneficial to each of them." For a moment she was pushed back into that wild world. Having to learn how to read and write was a challenge within itself, but understanding the economic values of the world around her was stressing. Then the haggling, ugh, that was treated more as a sport than a lecture. Forcing people to listen to her when it was ingrained in each that slaves have very little say over anything. Thus they are nearly inconsequential. Eliza had to yell, claw, and scrap to make herself heard. "Our particular branch dealt with the Fire and Earthen Courts, two of the largest courts in Kalopsia. Due to conflicting values between said courts and the remainder, we had to ensure that we not only represented those values but also implement such to secure a relationship between all courts better." She smiled in memory, "The rulers of the Fire and Earthen Courts treated their slaves extremely well in comparison to the rest. Their transportation was in comfort and because of such the slaves were healthier, cleaner, and felt safe. This, in turn, made the rest of the courts want their goods to be treated the same way, putting more money in our pockets and filtering it back into our economy."

She liked this face; it was cold and calculating and frightening. When you're all smiles and laughter, it's a bit hard to make a point, so she has married the two. Aury's little complaint made her frown, even more, making the small downward dips look nearly comical against her usually pleasant face. "This is a common occurrence it would seem." Taking a few steps backward, avoiding the bodies and such, Del plopped herself down at his feet with a heavy sigh escaping her. She held up a piece of paper for him to read; the manifest was simple in its make, clearly laying out the goods being transported from one place to another. It has only been a year and some change since the Tyrant King was disposed of, not enough time to weed out the unagreeable - if that is even possible. Should be little to no surprise such grand measures are in place to continue the King's past wants for Ursa Madeum. Delaney has lived a relatively dull life. Some of her masters have been some of the most terrible people ever to bless Valucre, but she has never blamed their origins for such. An elf can be just as awful as a human; a fae can be just as disgusting as a human - to her, a race has little to do with it. It is understandable while most thing it must; it only takes one to create a history and future for the rest. "There are more within Andelusia," she said leaning back and pointing at note at the bottom of the manifest. They shook the hornet's nest with their interference. These people are not loose change you can just write off; their disappearance will be noticed, alerting whoever is behind the operations of this little event. "We need to get these people to safety and root out the devils in Andelusia." The Seeker stretched her legs, tapping the heels of her worn boots against the dusty ground. A part of her knows that this will assist in doing away with the followers still hanging on the Tyrant King's dead words; the other half is aware this can only make matters worse. She and Aury will have to get to the heart of the issue first and foremost, hit them where it hurts so they'll think twice before trying to relive the golden years. It will take time with just the two of them doing most of the work. "The next time you invite me on an adventure, make sure it's chasing rivers or going after butterflies."

PILAAAATTTTEEEESSSSS is hella hard and I love it.

I have a spreadsheet I use for this exactly. I have 100% time slots and such, but having everything organized by the group size and what's happening in those threads, I'm less overwhelmed.

I'd like to help!

You all are awesome! I'll have that PM and thread ready for you today.

Welcome to Valucre! If you need help with anything, don't hesitate to ask! We are a friendly bunch here, we welcome anyone ready to hit the ground running, and we appreciate a good joke (mostly me, I like cheesy jokes.) Can't wait to see you doing your thang!

Ari stifled her laughter but not her beaming smile. Poor Gerald was trying to keep himself together, yet it's clear that for all his knightly ways he was struggling to understand Grugga. Bugbears are cut from a different cloth than he and she, there are ways to their clans that seem archaic and aged, so they don't fit in the modern societies opinions. Grugga was a delightful change in her small opinion; he was all earth and sky, not metal and steam. He brought her down to earth, forcing her to understand him. When she approached, Grugga delighted her with gifts from her kills. She took them eagerly, excited as the many possibilities flipped through her imaginative mind about what she is going to do with the tusks. Then the conversation of his assistance came up, one that was delicate in its delivery for she is not a great speaker and wished not to offend their new companion. Because of their worlds being so separated, she knew that it was easy to confuse words and actions; Grugga has already shown that there are ways to his manners that best appeal to him. Ari has shown him her strengths and skills to hunting, where Gerald has not and is looked down upon. In the bugbears world, she is superior while in the real world Gerald is superior. She must ensure that they complete their mission by assisting Gerald with Grugga. 'I will speak to Gerald, the man who tried to talk to you earlier. He is the leader of this group, and I am one of his followers. We must work together so you can become chief." Leaving Grugga to attend to the meat, she sauntered on over to Gerald who has been wearing a sour look the entire time. 'He will only help us if we kill the chief of his clan so that he can become chief. I know it's preposterous, but what are your ideas Ser?'

"Then," she grabbed his hands, folding them gently in her grasp, "you will speak with Lord Milorian about what you've been doing." Marina frowned, knowing that no matter how calm and collected Milorian appears on the outside, he is a raging ball on the inside. Having Gerald teach Mia behind the scenes will not be taken lightly, it could be seen as some act of treason on the trust Milo has permitted Mia and Gerald. Gawyne will be furious, Ronan will be equally so, while Austere will have to play referee. This is the last thing their Lord needs, but if Gerald is eager to become a different man, he must admit to his wrongs. Releasing him from her hold, she allowed her fingers to drift across his cheeks, teasing the skin of his face with a featherlike touch. So many burdens, much of them unnecessary due to his position in life. There was so much passion in this Dog of War whose only want is to be human, not a smashing of thoughts and wants to be perpetrated by others. Mia's story is very similar to Anson's - Marina's child. There is so much manhood in such a quiet boy; it nearly frightened her. His life will be extended (if the gods see it to be so), there will be time for him to grow up and become a man much like his father with a path made only for his feet to travel. He has taken everything in stride, even shared a few cold but well thought out words about Ser Gerald and his charges. Anson felt it wasn't safe to have them there due to history past, and safety was the utmost importance to the man. All that was followed up with his understanding of why it was necessary. "If there is knowledge to be shared, it must be shared with everyone." With that, she fully released him. "Then we will spend our days chasing butterflies and churning butter," she teased. "Right, it's your turn to show me something. I've treated you to a fine breakfast and tantalizing conversation; you can't expect me to carry this burden all by myself." It was now her mission to see this man pleased with everyday life and it's simple pleasures. Marina would love to see his jubilation from earlier when he was chasing butterflies and his embarrassment when he fed her compliments. That was the kind of man he is fighting to become.

"I was born into slavery - I think." His honestly made her honest, plus she felt more comfortable having him hear her history from herself and not the gossipers. Plus, it was a pleasant part of who she is, without her history Delaney would not be the person she is now. "I've been a slave for as long as I can remember. I have no idea who my parents are, and I've never been too curious to find out." Briefly, she thumbed a memory from not too long ago. Aurelius, her best friend, had said something about tests being done that would show her where she indeed hails from. It would be interesting to travel to Kadia to have such tests be done, but only to sate her sheer curiosity. As far as she is concerned, the Free Marches are her home and the Mythals are her family. If she had known about such tests as a teenager, then perhaps she would have them done to see if she comes from Genesaris or Terrenus or even Tellus Mater. Now it just doesn't matter anymore. The two turned a corner; layers and layers of tiered rice fields assault their sight. Most of the paddies were being tended to by farmers who are happy to have work. "I think I come from Genesaris; I can remember most of my life was spent there and then when I was old enough I came to Terrenus." Her hand lifted away from her sword to wave at a familiar face, "I worked in flower shops, a variety of dress shops was a handmaid for a very long time. Most of my education is second-hand; I didn't speak until I was twenty and I can barely read now." The Seeker turned another corner, this time revealing a large patch of land being prepared for the kitchen garden. Mancers were working the earth that shifted as if they were waves in the ocean; the group had been given the House due to an agreement between House Mythal and the island of Kalopsia. "And here we are! Thirty-two feet for the kitchen garden ... and that's all I know. So what do you think?"