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amenities last won the day on June 11

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  • Birthday 01/01/1869

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  1. amenities


    My character Prose Letariat! She's a Handyman jellyfish lady former pirate.
  2. Cain leaned forward as Darah spoke, posting an elbow on the crook of his knee and his chin in his palm. He didn’t look bored with her account; more like he was recalling a fond memory. In fact, having read the mission report immediately after it found its way to his desk, he practically was. When she had finished, he brought his other hand to rest on a manilla envelope that had sat before his chair for the entire briefing on the current state of the Mountain. “Sometimes the odds are the test, and survival is the only item on the rubric that must be met to pass.” He slid the manilla envelope toward Darah. “You exceeded those expectations, dealing viable hits on defensible nobles and not only leaving with your heads intact, but taking a nice stack of information with you. This is…” he said, sliding a forefinger beneath the front face of the folder, flicking it open. “Commendable.” Inside the folder, beneath the first fat file, were two stapled files on Diric and Tynes, one file on Norkotian defenses, and another file that detailed all the mines in Norkotia in their various states of openness and defunctness. The fat file on top read Disciples of Gaia. “I don’t want to put you in harm’s way, but I do want to give you freedom. Power. Furthermore, I want to give you a new kind of threat to do it with. Let me explain. Officials in Norkotia are looking for the assassins from that fateful day, which of course includes you… How much they know is questionable.” Pulling the document of Norkotian mines out of the pile, Cain pointed to one. “Norkotia is known for its several mining villages. Moreso for its massive untapped reserves of Uru, which is an endlessly useful material to magically savvy engineers, of which the Dead has no shortage. I want to hit one of those villages and take as large a sum of Uru as possible. I was thinking that, either on our way in or out OR by purposefully exposing one of the attempted assassins at that mine, we could lure Diric to an untimely fate and open up Chairman Tynes to our loving caress.” Here Cain cascaded his fingers through the air as if against Tynes’ sweet cheek. “My question for you is, if properly equipped, defended, disguised and then some, would you be the first leader of our newest force? I won’t mince facts—” he said, extending the hand that had flitted through the dossier meaningfully. “They’re kids displaced by the Tia event, and I’m putting as much of my blood into assimilating them into our cause as possible without… draining my blood bank.” Somewhere stories and stories beneath them, Cain’s shadow grimaced with the only pain he knew how to feel— the pain of dying— as he was slowly drained of his blood in order for it to be fed to the kids; just slowly enough that he wouldn’t die, could regenerate some of it using steroids and stem cells before going in for another session. Such was the task at hand for the Earthbreaker Cain, the face of the Puppet Master, to function with a wicked smile on his face. “Will you lead them, at least in Norkotia, if it means another swipe at Diric?” He slid his chair to the side and behind him was the image of the Alignak statue lit up on a projector screen. He gestured to it. “Would you lead them if it meant acquiring a new kind of power? A piece of my power?” Cain did not look tired in the dark blue of the room, but in an overseeing manner he seemed more eager to impart great deeds upon others than to eat the hearts of kings with his own two hands.
  3. I'm gonna wait until @susitsu either posts or tells us he's too busy before I post up. @susitsu my man this would be a good time for Amraphensbane to make his strike while Sebastian is distracted!
  4. Cain’s left hand was buried in his pocket, the Big O latched around his million-times perforated wrist barely visible as it rotated lazily, yet to be engaged. The tendrils of black energy unfolding from the Puppet Master’s back engaged any snakes or pieces of corruption that attempted to encroach on his body, lapping away the foreign energy as soon as it became closer to Cain than it was to Binki. Meaningless white noise. She would find she couldn’t just absorb him with her energy, his own aura a veritably potent monster that had supped on the blood of a million. The blood mage and the vampire would clash in a twisted case of chicken and egg: who controlled their blood better? “You’ve never had a snack like me, bitch” his sonorous voice came in fast-time as she swung her blade down for him after exiting what Cain could only assume was a portal. He jumped nimbly to the side as her halberd came down, barely moving to instill the motion in a move that accentuated his leg strength and his minimalistic movements. Although Binki’s blade had been more of a distraction for a smack from her hilt, Cain forced her hand. He swept his right hand out, lashing for her face even as her blade halted and changed direction so she could hit him with her handle. The blade of her halberd severed his right hand cleanly at the wrist, but instead of flopping to the ground the hand continued flying, propelled by Cain’s control over the strands of blood still connecting the severed hand to its wrist. The severed hand would backhand Binki in the face even as her hilt whiffed on the spot where Cain had once stood (as he was now in motion to the side). The back of the hand would connect with devastating snarkiness just before Binki could retreat across her black pools of escape. (1) Immediately after ensuring the severed hand held enough momentum to backhand Binki in the face even while swinging her weapon, Cain released the cut-off appendage. Only AFTER hitting Binki would it flop to the ground and the blood from Cain’s amputated hand and crimson spraying wrist cover Binki’s lips and face. Cain imitated fake fear as he held up his right squirting wrist, his left hand still buried in his pocket with the thumb bleeding from his nip earlier. Only he was rubbing the blood all over his hand in the pocket. (2) As the vampire danced away with his blood on her, Cain waved the handless wrist at her. His feet had still yet to move since he threw the exploding Nica at her. “Aw man, why’d you have to go and do that? That thing was really handy!” He paused, grinning facetiously at his own joke.
  5. Reginald would be provided with a list of the schools of magic all around Terrenus. Of course he was to approach any who he did secretively, without betraying either his identity or that of those for whom he worked. First on the list of people who would likely create shell deals with him and be unlikely to question his motives was the Nichole School of Magick, which was just displaced from Tia and now took up residence in Aspyn. Without a word, seemingly without ever having existed, Cain subtracted himself from the group. An instant later he was miles away walking in the spiral up Mt. Ichthys beside the leader of the Ulway hivemind, Shaman. Although their lips did not move, their minds converged. You are in charge of the island, all I ask is that, as your Ginger God, you give me this mountain. Already we raise your machine giant to spiral around Ichthys. You have freed us of the guardians and for that I am eternally grateful, but for what more do you ask? Nothing, just that you never tell them my name. It is done, my god. The two headed for an upper sanctum of the mountain. Its jagged tip was being hollowed away by large groups of stone mason Ulway who worked seamlessly with one another. Once the raw outsides of the mountain were refined and disguised to prevent outsiders from seeing the outside for the inhabitable fortress it was, Cain would bring in skeletons to fashion the rest to his desires. For now, however, Cain and Shaman approached the unshaped statue of a god that had once been. This was carved from the enchanted works of the artist Keli, who took life and used it to form his realism. I hope to reconfigure this statue's enchantment to give life and power instead of take it. I wish to imbue it with the heart of Alignak so that Alignak's worshipers can enjoy some degree of earth and ice bending, his mental voice said to Shaman.
  6. Sir, came the pleasant buzz in the back of Michael’s head. Judging by its interaction with the light projectile, that spear appears to have magic bouncing augmentations. Wonderful. Michael was already grinning his leftward grin, so there was no shift in his demeanor. His patience had mounted alongisde a tempestuous mental and physical severity in recent years to create a man who embodied both incredible calm and the monstrous storm to come. Early on it had been perhaps deniable, but now the four-part glow on his face shone with increased brilliance since the crystalline alignment’s fulmination. Michael didn’t speak, only smile down at James— Eredas coming up the hill providing him the high ground— as his armor took shape and he tucked his thumb back into his fist. Indeed there would be few, if any war stories traded here. It wasn’t a lack of respect that dictated it, just focus. Now the armor was fully formed around his upper body and skirted at his torso, the slatted helmet closing over his mouth and creating a subtle, pointed visor over his eyes. Four beams of light plunged from each point of the square into the ground, light illuminating the four faces of a square column that consumed the center of Michael’s body in lights of different colors. Only his arms and legs, and the sides of his torso were visible outside the construct. On the face before James was an obsidian black mirror. The face of the square column to Michael’s right, to James’s left was purple. The one to the back was red, and lastly the one facing to James’s right and Michael’s left a darker, warbling red.(1) From behind and above James, the orb of light finally vibrated with Michael’s voice. “You don’t have to wait for me, Master Knight. My hands are clean for now, but I aim to kill and I expect the same from you.” This one was harder to see than the last, Michael’s body largely concealed by light, but another coin of solid white blazed from his flicked thumb through the space between them. This one was aimed for the hip on the same side as James’s hand that wielded the spear. (2)
  7. Cain’s Mona Lisa eyes encapsulated the room as the auction began, from Black at his right to the Mistress at his left, to the distinctly empty space where Shikai had been. Now they honed in on the Mistress. If her expression didn’t describe it, trickles of her disenchantment transferred to the First Officer from the black pad stuck to her. Don’t forget that this isn’t for that sculpture, milady. This is to get close to Keli; to get close to a legendary artifact. As the auction ensued, he turned his attention to Black, speaking aloud. The Mistress didn’t know it, but Cain was paying close attention to her response. Teamwork mattered in the Dead. “I don’t want your life, Neon. I want your ships! And, to be fair, you. Alive.” “40 schmeckles” “50 schmeckles!” “55!” “60.” “69,” said the disaffected Mistress. Cain continued on with Black. “When gotten what we came here to get, I want to take it back to Terrenus on your ships. I don’t want to steal them though.” Slowly the bids came in more and more slowly. Seamlessly with his out loud conversation with Black, Cain sent a mental link to Shikai using the black pads. How long will the paralysis last, Shikai? We need long enough to leave with Keli and his guards before the people come back. “Black, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I think I can turn your defunct fleet into something worth fearing again.” Black’s eyes laid steadily on Keli, whose obsidian silhouette loomed behind the auctioneer. Keli looked naked, but his features were so smooth there were no genitalia, was no hair. Black seemed aware that the bids were dwindling, but still he responded to Cain while staring at Keli. “What could you do to make it great?” He asked in a monotone voice. “Much has happened in the last 20 years, Black. You feared me when we were young, but now you cannot even fathom me. I’ve got the technology to mask your fleet. Protect it. I’ve got reliable men who could do well with it. Doesn’t that change anything?” Black paused when it appeared the Mistress was the last one raising the schmeckle paddle. “And 420 schmeckles going once, twice, three times, sold to the pretty lady in the back!” About 15 minutes later the group was walking out a back entrance with Keli and four other guards exactly like him in odd, gigantic, smooth obsidian nature. Their skin appeared matte, inflexible and unlike skin. Their joints had the slightest of apertures that showed, indeed, they must at least have some android parts. When examined more, tiny studs that emulated fingerprints spiraled around their bodies.There appeared to be no eyes, just smooth divots of skin. When Keli, at the head of the diamond of towering figures they walked with, opened his mouth to speak though, all five of the beings spoke and it could be seen that their lips, teeth and tongues were real enough. All of the voices were Keli’s. “I have spent my lives perfecting the art of human nature, and then twisting it to the farthest extents that humanity can take it. These extents are often unnatural and terrifying, breathtaking and inspiring. Many people have wondered what drives the unbelievable machine of my artistic touch. I hope you will join me at my art lot to see where my muse lies.” The group entered a sleek, bullet-like vessel that hovered a foot off the ground on a curb in a VIP parking lot. Tall, curving, taunting buildings loomed in a jagged circle into the black grey sky above them. There was one barred gate out of the circular lot, and the black silhouettes of Keli’s fans stared in like zombies, their eyes almost illuminated red in the light. When they saw Keli and the group, their arms even reached through the spaces between bars while they moaned like undead for their creative manipulator. The insides were like a limo, small panels of immaculate wood donning crystal glasses and beakers of liquor. Sleek blue lines gilded the seats and ceiling, illuminating Keli and his sentinels ominously. Cain entered without a second thought. Black stopped in front of the limo, staring with genuine fear in the back of his eyes if only for an instant before stepping into the void of the vehicle. Soon its doors would hiss shut and the gates would open. The only thing that saved some of the brainless fans was their diving out of the way at the last second; the driverless vehicle’s path would have plowed heedlessly over them if not. This was an opportunity for any of the operatives to ask questions of Keli. Especially the Mistress, who was supposed to be the most interested, considering the fact that she’d bought the sculpture now collecting dust back at the art exhibit. The Dead were a precise group of operatives who did clandestine things for deadly purposes, not people who just idly bought art. It just so happened that pretending to be people who idly bought art was sometimes part of being a precise group of operatives who did clandestine things for deadly purposes. When they arrived at a glaring mansion, haunted windows glaring out at the secluded street on the hill leading down to the sea, Cain looked pointedly at the Mistress. His voice came through the psychic connection to the Mistress and Shikai, but not Black. Heads up, Dead. This is where things get hairy. He’s going to single you out Mistress. Come up with a reason that I have to come along. Meanwhile, if the rumors are true, he’ll try to dispose of Black and Shikai. Shikai, if you can manage to on top of saving your own skin, try to save Black. He’s imperative to future Dead operations. He’s got big boats. Really big boats. Exiting the vehicle, and entering the building’s main foyer sure enough, the main Keli broke off from his four counterparts. He extended the wide, smooth extent of his black hand toward the Mistress. “Miss, since you were the purchaser of the artifact you have acquired a view of my art’s true secret. The others may entertain themselves in my lounge. My other parts will lead them there.” A doorway to the right framed with neon lights, through which a bar could be seen, is where the three sentinels headed with Shikai and Black. Down a spiral staircase is where Keli would guide the Mistress and, if the Mistress provided, Cain.
  8. Hey guys! Just wanna say good going on the thread so far! You've all done well 🙂 I know @Rin has limited web capabilities so it's possible she won't be able to rejoin us for this thread. @Thotification and @susitsu what do your timelines look like? I'm in wrap this up mode, but I'd like at least a couple more posts from both of you! We need to get Amraphensbane's attack out on Seabass and the Mistress has some spectral snekk business to deal with, then we can deal final blows and gtfo. @danzilla3 how do you feel about setting a post ticker until the Taen guard arrives? 4 more post rotations?
  9. “Can you read?” “yes” “Open it.” Cain only looked enough to know it wasn’t the guy with the Lantern coming back. No, when the kid presented the crumpled paper he responded by extending his right arm, palm flat, pulling his sleeve back. A narrow springblade strapped to his wrist gleamed in the sunlight. The kid unwrapped it and read it to Cain, more eager with the good man’s gifts than the bad man’s threats, then the springblade slammed through his forehead. Cain bit his lip, mixing a drop of the blood that came from the wound with the blood on the blade. “For Alignak.” Quietly swearing to himself, the ginger stood. Cain’s brassness was in some cases a benefit, in others a boon. Killing the boy, never even touching him, had been jumping the gun, but he was practiced in the darkest necessities of duty. This he did without a second thought. “The sun is already burning my fair skin,” he said dramatically, fanning his face. “Come on Joseph.” One psychic line connecting the boy to his toy brought both of them into the forest at a maintained distance of about 125 feet. Another line connected him to the scythe, left where it lay as he walked the straight path to the encampment. Now he walked the woods with his jaw clenched, blood dripping from the blade slot harnessed to his wrist. He still had a small limp from the shindig at the base of Blaurg. He bore a silent intensity in his eye, a simple willingness to kill, and a specific direction he seemed to be taking things. Rarely could he be heard saying these things, but by sheer demonstration of some direction Cain had accrued dedicated and powerful followers. Maybe most importantly, he fought on the front lines. Nobody lived this way, not for long; Cain was cautious, but wasn’t too arrogant to acknowledge he could be tricked. As the smell of decay wafted past his nostrils, especially when it became stronger in concord with the place he was headed, he began smelling for traces of anything else; fire, cooking, poison. He grinned simply at the sight afoot and broke an oak switch from one of the trees on his entrance to the clearing across from Ezekiel, waving it idly in his left hand. It was true that Cain didn’t know much about Ezekiel besides his name and, preceding that, where he’d become owner of the Lantern for which Rose searched; but Ezekiel wouldn’t even know anyone was coming for him until some random kid approached. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you my name! Are you Zeke?” he said, coming to stand near the pot on the fire. “Or do you prefer Ezekiel?” He looked down at it questioningly, removing one of several subtly curved daggers holstered in his belt with his left hand. Ezekiel wasn’t a duelist, but the surrounding camp and the man’s glaringly lacking bravado was a sufficient indication of his capability. The Earthbreaker put his foot against the lip of the pot. “I am actually quite hungry,” he said, stretching his calf by leaning some weight on the kettle. It tilted at a precarious angle, just enough not to dump any stew. He posted his wrists against his hips, fluidly scraping the curved dagger along his bloodied slingblade in the motion. “But I gave you all this time to know I was coming! You sure you’re not trying to poison me or something?” Cain grinned with an almost good nature. There were either many layers to this man, or there were none.Cain played everyone of any repute as if they were the former, so the possibilities with Mr. Glass were endless.
  10. amenities

    Cain Rose

    Arm of Cabal Big O (This information can be found in Cain's history above, but I am posting it here for ease of reference.) Basic Template A. Antipsionic Barrier: A barrier that can be erected in the event of an attack upon the person by a psion that will utilize the open path formed by the psionic attack to overload the others brain with too much foul energy, causing it to rapidly decay until nothing but mush. B. Conversion Matrix: A framework that is meant to precede a basic spell in order to siphon the energy from a clashing spell into its framework and augment that basic spell, or, alternatively, serve as a red herring for said clashing spell. C. The Trispell: A dispel that operates in three parts, one which is a gathering of information, the second which uploads said information into the third part, which dispels the entirety of whatever magical construct Cain is facing. Dialectic I A. String Backlash: For those who want to attempt to cut the Puppeteer's connection to his puppets, this backlash will ensure that any attempt to do so is met with either a Mental Break, a Magical Backlash, or a Magical Bounce. (Preps: Quickdraw) B. Call Puppet: Used for summoning the puppets to a location where he does not normally maintain them.(Preps: 1) C. Restore Puppet: Used for on-the-go repairs to puppets, although the preparatory time needed varies depending upon how close the puppet is to Cain, and how damaged it is. (Preps: 1-5) D. The Interchange: By manipulating the strings between puppets and puppeteer, Cain is now able to rapidly change places with his puppets simply through an extension of his will. (Preps: 1) Dialectic II A. Physical String: In those cases where magical strings cannot be maintained well enough to serve their purpose, physical strings will be composed. Depending upon how long this transition is prepped, they will function like normal string to diamond string. (Preps: 1-4) B. Sever String: In those instances where a string is being used in an effort to harm the puppeteer, this spell is available as a last resort, allowing him to simply sever the string at its base. (Preps: None, Quickdraw.) C. Create String: After a string has been severed, it may be necessary to spawn a new string, or new strings in order to reestablish control over a puppet. (Preps: None, Quickdraw.) D. Explosive String: A technique that is created by lacing three strings together and tying them to a single puppet, when the string is broken, its stable mana connection is disrupted, and cues a disruptive and explosive detonation of mana. (Preps: 1-3) Dialectic III A. Alter Self (False): This ability allows Cain to appear as though he is a puppet even though he is not, allowing him to hide among the ranks of his troops with the efficacy of a well-trained strategist. (Preps: 1) B. The Interchange (Puppet-to-Puppet): Via manipulation of the strings that bind puppet to user to puppet, this allows the rapid displacement and changing of positions of respective puppets while in the midst of combat, allowing Cain to rapid-fire juggle his weapons in regards to their positions. (Preps: 1) C. Assimilate Ability: A single ability from a single puppet may be brought from its original host into Cain's body, allowing him to wield its power for up to ten turns before returning. It should be mentioned that the ability will no longer be available to the original host during this period. (Prep: 1) D. Bind Soul: The final ability of Cain's bracer, this allows for the active transformation of another living being into a puppet. (IC)
  11. … it’s not like they could tell him no. No one ever told him no. “No,” said Merideth, the receptionist, pushing her purple horn-rimmed glasses up with a pencil eraser. “We don’t take walk-ins.” Merideth had a swath of grey locks piled on her head that it took looking twice at to confirm wasn’t still packed with curlers. Her face tapered down to her chin, both draped with amphibious green skin, and her pencil-thin hands flitted through the papers before her with minds of their own as she looked unaffectedly up at the suspect doctor. While nothing was like, code-red level suspect in times like these, this guy coming in and asking for a job was like green/yellow-level suspect. Her gaze told him she thought he was either Dr. House from ‘House’ suspect or Dr. Nick from ‘Simpsons’ suspect. After a short pause where she leaned her fat chin folds on the pencil eraser and appraised Farkis (yes, she even leaned forward to catch the waist-down over the reception desk), or maybe even a good argument on Farkis’ part, she seemed to reconsider just a little. “We’re very busy,” she said, gesturing to the stuffed sardine can of a waiting room. The chairs were packed and the wallflowers were out; it was a purgatory of musical chairs and the music never ended. The music? Kids crying, men and women moaning over a chorus of squeaky wheels and the aluminum joints on the stretchers clattering by. The cigarette-stained voice croaking through the fat lady’s tiredly painted lips was barely audible above the din. Nearby, a guy mopping the floor paused to look up at the interaction before going back to his puddle next to the fire engine ‘Wet Floor’ sign. “But I can page up to him if you’ll take a seat. Might be a while,” taunted her voice. She looked and sounded like a Selma. Sir, got a funny guy here says he wants to be a doctor. ‘Merideth?’ Yeah? ‘Like, he came to the front desk?’ Yeap. ‘A-alright, have Regius bring him up.’ Merideth pressed a button three down the line on the same receiver. This crystal led to a security room somewhere near the reception room. “Wait 20 minutes and then come on over,” said a text message to the security room’s comm screen. The reason this wasn’t audible was that, often times, messages to the security room had to be private. Twenty minutes later, One of three hulking figures sitting before fizzling screens that watched the perimeter of the hotel as well as the main lobby in, elevators and stairways leading to every floor rose from his chair and exited the security room. The others watched as a line of injured people filed in the front door. There were clandestine attacks and then there were ambushes that took place in the bare daylight; this was somewhere in between. There was most likely, if hopefully for the Mausoleum, a difference between the hobbling order of patients and what would come next that would be hard to miss. Regius rounded a corner to see Farkis. Regius was ‘7, also wearing a janitorial outfit but without any janitorial effects. His black hair looked wet, matted to his slack white face. His hairy knuckles were curled in his back hunched in a similarly dumb manner. His beady eyes focused on Farkis as he slowed before the motion-sensor doors. There was an ‘in’ door and an ‘out’ door, the ‘out’ door dinging open as he slowed before it and the line of distraught patients parted around him like a rock in the stream when he came to stop before them. He jerked his head back the other way so the sycophant would have to walk through the sickies and sick-os to follow. A couple minutes later Farkis was being ushered into Mans’s door past a plaque on the wall that said “Dr. Mans Reyder, Resident Physician; Hospital Administrator." The balls were still bouncing against one another as they had been from the moment Mans pinched and released the first. Speaking of ‘pinching and releasing,’ he was just coming out of the restroom in the short hallway between his office and his hovel when the two walked in. Regius closed the door and stood on the inside, doctors and nurses visible passing by through the rectangular door window’s slatted blinds. Mans wiped his eyes as he sat at his desk, speaking before he even looked at Farkis. The office was grey, and Mans’s was the only swivel chair. The two maroon ones before his desk looked like the kind that might be comfortable for a couple minutes, but in whose cushions would settle into the wireframes after not long and have you squirming for comfort. “So you wanna be a doctor, hey? I must say this is quite odd; normally we don’t take walk-ins. We’re in a weird place though, so I suppose weird things may happen. What makes you think you could help us here? Got any references?” Mans looked either too tired, too busy, too drunk, or maybe all three to mind the oddity of the situation. Regius’ hands were folded before him and he looked unwaveringly down his stupid button nose at Farkis.
  12. Fun fact: Fonzie was a 21 year old high school dropout who lived with his parents and chilled with high schoolers Funner fact: I just posted!
  13. I don't believe it had been said anywhere, but there it is!
  14. That would just mean extra fun for everyone involved! So right, as alluded to my posts will in some/most cases concern everyone, not just a certain order group, but at the same time I don't want to be 'left in the dust' or my posts undermined because I'm not part of a group. The disclaimer that everyone should keep an eye out for my posts will also do though.❤️
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