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Everything posted by amenities

  1. amenities

    Destruction des morts

    Thickly gauzed between wake and sleep, Tia tossed in tense slumber. In the way one does the night before their death sentence, in the way an insect does on the spider's axis, it turned. Leather gloves groaned over thick hands and in bands around bridles and the horse’s quiet blow. Some smatterings of dusty shops and barns on the outskirts of Tia formed a desolate ghost town in the advent of its war. All that traveled here were scavengers and those in a hurry to get out. From afar, the village could be assumed haunted with the specters of future and present. Venture closer in the silent dusk, within a grey barn, and a specter from the past could be found. Clouds of dirt strayed from one of many paths to Tia and lurked among the bobbing cattails; among the buildings; among the Dead. Within the barn there were four carriages, black shawls concealing the eight heads of their steeds. One carriage would be a little cramped. The others, not so much. Cain was wearing a black jumper with several loops and pockets and had two backpacks strung over each shoulder, but no mask. Tossing back half of a potion and slipping its vial into a pocket, he turned to address the Dead. Had he become something less human yet, in the span of a million stolen experiences? More? Times like this, when pins and needles danced down his desensitized spine, made him wonder. He unshouldered the bags and placed them before him, appraising all the masked figures before him with a subtly pleased expression. All of the masked figures had a black circular sticker planted somewhere on their bodies which allowed telepathic communication between the circles. The doors to a carriage behind Cain swung open to reveal the barrels from nights before. “The fact that they don't know we're coming does not make you impervious. The masks are important. Concealing your identity is important. Victory, is important. Each bag has a Maleficence antidote in a syringe for each of you, one faux-ton pair and one MAL bomb. Hope you’re not scared of needles. Inject like so,” he stabbed a needle into his forearm and squeezed in the plunger with his thumb, throwing the needle aside. "We're the only ones with this antidote, so the waterborne illness won't get you. The plant's pheromone is stronger though; it will start to affect you after a few hours. Make you crazy. “Remember, plant one half of your faux-ton receiver at the shaft control center when you first arrive. Descend to the negative fifth level and find the incision vent to secure your charge to. When you receive the signal that Schrei and I have unloaded our barrels into the WAK irrigator, you get back to the elevator shaft, faux-ton yourself back up to the control center and get the hell out of there. If for some reason we fail, I will tell you, in which case we’ll make a scene at the WAK so you can still get into the shafts where security is minimal. I’ll remotely blow your charges when everyone is clear or they’ll blow themselves after a three minute timer. Make sure you beat that. Any problems are to be reported immediately, as I will you, though if we get off two of the charges we’ll still meet quota.” Members of the respective teams had been shown diagrams of the shafts they would infiltrate, so with rigorous studying their knowledge of entry and exit would be about two-thirds as thorough as a shaft employee. The features of the red-haired First Officer began to warp as he spoke via telepathic connection, gesturing in odd quiet at this and that. They never stopped warping, causing his face to become a constantly shifting anomaly. Eye color, jaw shape, nose, always different than the prior moment, turned from the line of individuals. “Schrei, you’re with me. We’ll go on ahead, the rest of you should leave in five minutes.” He paused while getting into his carriage, looking back on all of them. Though his features were in a constant state of melding into something else, one thing was uniform across all of the features. Concern. “Today is a terrible day. Be cautious.” In a black tower outside of Tia, where fateful happenings had once unseated Cain, sat a jagged throne of animal horns and hides. Upon it sat the Patriarch of Tia, Serafino Dolos. Some twenty-four feet to his left sat a giant cage embedded into the wall. Inside that, on a scraggly tweed chair, sat a perfect likeness of Cain; Nica Sero, the self-aware clone he’d once used to lord over Tia. Serafino didn’t sweat; his stomach didn’t churn; but he felt off. Aside from the dress, which could be reasonably mistaken for part of a funeral procession or just some emo, horsedrawn carriages without drivers were quite common in Tia. As a matter of fact, some high-faluters used mechanical horses powered by steam to drive their vehicles. As their two-horse carriage pulled into Tia amid the waking yawn of the kingdom, the Cain of many faces looked at a masked Schrei. “Are you ready?” he asked as the carriage rolled along with eerie smoothness down the WAK avenue. There were two other masked figures in the carriage who sat silently.
  2. amenities

    Spurs for the Burro

    “0800 is when the next caravan comes by. Tomorrow at 2000 is the one after. Scuzzballs haven’t sent any reinforcements yet, so it’s safe to say they won’t send anybody until a new deployment of soldiers comes to Aspyn next month.” Dervish the half-man spoke to his comrades in a small den off the main path from Aspyn to its sister colonies on Biazo Isle. In the boroughs of Bi’le’ah, 12 Half-man gangsters belonging to notorious Half-man crimelord the Mule planned the assault of a produce caravan heading from Aspyn to an auxiliary settlement to the northeast. Armed with rusty knives and faulty guns, half-derelict armor constructed from metal sheets and a couple highly intelligent leaders with hidden magical powers, this dozen had relieved several supply caravans of their supplies and relayed them back to the Mule. Most Half-men of Bi’le’ah were busy picking up the pieces of their broken lives since the unnatural magical hurricane and the war in which it shrouded itself, and they reviled the Mule for the stereotypes his actions cast upon them. Nonetheless the Mule persisted with his unsavory means of acquiring means to survive and, in some twisted perspective, a degree of warped lavish. “Alright.” Extending from an orb in the center of a table was a hologram of Peacekeeper Michael Commager and regent of the budding Aspyn. The filaments fit together perfectly, except for when he moved and in the pixels around his mouth; the hologram’s live feed didn’t quite have perfect resolution. This room was full of soldiers and vigilantes dedicated to stopping the threat coming from the Mule’s men. “The attacks on our caravans show all the signs of the Mule’s handiwork. We have dealt firsthand with the Mule and his men before. Escapees of his raids with tetanused scratches and bludgeoning injuries report roughshod groups of mutant-looking creatures attacking their wagons. The physical profiles are consistent with half-men, but it’s alleged that there are a couple powerful individuals among them. According to sources, they are the Mule’s left-hand men. “You will depart with the 0800 group in the morning or the 20000 group in the evening tomorrow, your choice. You must disguise yourself as caravaners and merchants. You can either capture the perps and question them about the Mule or defeat them to send a message to his men. “Afterward report back here, and we’ll take your analysis into consideration when establishing an outpost and division to deal with caravan theft. Questions, or can we begin planning specifics?” Those who didn’t know Michael Commager shuffled their feet, wondering whether or not the hologram was actually a live feed, or a recording. That was when the quizzical image of the Major shifted, his eyes scanning this way and that, dispelling any notion that this was not in fact the real Peacekeeper. “Well?”
  3. Class A: Help the military establish outposts for displaced refugees from Biazo City and protect them from raids Aspyn is a budding mega city embedded on the southwestern hemisphere of Biazo Island. Northward, the ruins of Biazo City, Bi’le’ah, warp on under the influence of an unnatural magical rift. Within the ruins there still survive mutated and deformed people. Their sustenance, their features, their minds are all twisted by the magical catechism that befell Biazo almost a decade ago. It took the Half-Men many years to rise from the haze of what happened. As if a nuclear bomb had dropped on them— an unfortunately comparable incident to what had actually happened— they wandered blindly in the magically radioactive wasteland. Then they slowly organized into clans. Some clans tried to reorganized and pick up new life in the chaos of Bi’le’ah. Other clans probed out, searching for somebody to blame. They found Aspyn. The Mule's Half-Men Attack One of the cornerstones of authority and peace in Terrenus, Peacekeeper No. 5 Michael Commager, took up residence in Aspyn specifically to defend against threats coming from the north. Now he runs continental conquest in search of evil, and Aspyn finds itself naked to attacks from Half-Men, who come down to steal from supply caravans moving to and from Biazo Abbey, a holy location on Biazo Island that lies to the east. Aspyn Watchmen put out a request for authority figures and do-gooders to come stop the Half-Men clan sent by Bi'le'an crime lord the Mule, and come up with a solution to the problem. Possibilities include: Cutting a deal with the Half-Men Killing a significant portion of them and establishing future measures to deal with them Finding a Half-Man leader to take hostage Etc. Join @J. A. Horton and I to solve this problem and fortify Aspyn! Players wanted: 1
  4. Middle ground, feeling like I'm barely
    getting by

    Middle ground, second guessing why I even try
    Middle ground, all I know how to do is survive
    So mad that I wanna scream, so sad that I wanna cry

  5. amenities

    The Goodest Boy

    The flesh of Michael’s trapezius was damp to Shanti’s touch, and when her hand rested there she would feel the great muscle’s undulation coming to a surprised halt. Retracting his tongue from where it poked out of the corner of his mouth, the Peacekeeper’s expression of concentration broke to relieved joy when the elf’s comparatively cool had laid on him. Mike turned to face Shanti whole, the elephant kettle at his back lowering slowly to the ground as the flames carrying it evenly dissipated. Commager’s controlling the flames in a manner that gently lowered the pot sitting atop them was a testament to his capacity. Gales of cool air rushed from the dwindling flames, tousseling Michael’s hair from behind as he wrapped one arm around Shanti and kissed her forehead as not to drench her in his sweat. The way his mouth instinctively went smilingly to her ear afterward bespoke the truth of his passion. “You’re the only one who can eat me,” he said in a suggestive tone, squeezing her in his arm and chuckling. "What's up what's up! It's ya boy Roswell! It's been helluva long time. Glad to see this place going strong So where the hell is my man Mike? He here? Probably off on some world saving mission as per usual! I'm ready to get back into the swing of things so whatever hoops I gotta jump through just give me the whistle!" Three years earlier, Roswell and Michael stood outside a dilapidated building teaming with vampires and a high volume of other highly violent Unnaturals. Rubble had obscured most of the recognizable city around them at this point; smoke and cries of death filled the air; there were exactly two kinds of people left on the city: those who were here to kill, and those who were trying to leave. Certainly the latter was no less noble— in fact, perhaps it was more honorable now to just leave this hollowed out wretch to die than to continue pummeling that which was innately disadvantaged in the light of day. But Michael had refused. There was a parking garage beneath the building yawning down into the black, and Commager had told Roswell he had to go in. He had to kill as many, save as many as he could. Years later, Roswell approached a private on the perimeter of Biazo with words of greeting. He had no idea who “ya boy Roswell” was, but he did know Michael Commager. Now, simply saying you know Mike didn’t earn you an express ticket to see him; but it did lead you to his peripheral officers. Those guys recognized Roswell, and Mike would recognize the wolfish center of the resulting entourage approaching him just as he made his just slightly raunchy joke to Shanti. Mike released her and immediately moved for the group of four across the grass field. “Babe, I know this guy! He used to serve with me.” Then, with uncommon excitement as he got closer, “Rossss holy shit!!! I haven’t seen you since Biazo!” Right as Commager came within 5 feet of Ros, when it looked like he was coming in for a bear hug, he stopped and pointed to the ground before him. His face looked stern, but his eyes said he was joking. “Sit boy. Now roll over.” Then he burst out laughing, holding his gut and coming in for the real hug. “Just kidding buddy, how the hell are ya!?”
  6. amenities

    The Goodest Boy

    Michael walked with his eyes on his feet in a world where those who wished to do evil seemed so great; seemed so able to muffle the meager good that was. The way was dark, but he placed them carefully where he thought the footsteps of the holy might have gone before him. The way was dark, but he strove to be his own source of light. The way was dark…It was dark, until the flame of Aspyn was ignited upon the forsaken chin of Biazo Isle. Now the bustling village of refugees had become a veritable city with a workplace metropolis and regular traffic running down paved roads. Bolstered by the fruits blessed from the nearby Biazo Abbey, protected by the Bastion Peacekeeper Michael Commager, Aspynites prospered in health and good fortune. That did not mean, however, that the way was not dark. Walls around Aspyn separated it from the dark jungles and forests of Biazo. Much of the Isle was safe, but a stark portion of it was not. Bi’le’ah nearby, warping that natural into unnatural and compounding larger upon itself daily, was an always present fear in the hearts of the Aspynites. No Peacekeeper or holy entity could protect them, they thought, no matter how hard it tried. But the remnants of those who believed they could be protected were the protectorates themselves. Michael, Twizzen, Barrett, Roswell, and a host of others had stood before then at the brink of destruction and somehow bridged the gap over disaster. After the fall of the original Biazo, Twizzen blessed the city that rose from its ashes, Aspyn, and its assets from afar and Michael toiled with the people to exact a continually better tomorrow, all while Barrett and Roswell spread the good word of Terrenus throughout its cities and wilds. Michael had little knowledge of where his splinter cell compatriots had gone, but he thought of them daily. They were his brothers (and sister) through thick and thin. Barrett had taken to growing his own military personage and Roswell had gone off to establish friendly clans to Aspyn around Biazo. Michael, well, he had made somewhat of a living for himself. Sitting atop Aspyn, fishing in every bit of good he could from the dark, falling in love. The young man had done a lot. And now, with sweat on his back and forehead, the shirtless Peacekeeper stood in a field outside Aspyn where the wall opened up and an expansion to the suburbs was taking place. His arms were spread wide, muscle tone exaggerated by the effort he put into the work before him. A few feet away, in midair, swiveled a massive ring of fire gently. Tossing on top of it was an elephant sized pot filled with delicious stew for a crew of workers. A small group of ladies stood on the other side of a pylon nearby admiring the officer’s undulating form, but the man with his back to the forest only had one lady in mind. He would be sure to take some home to Shanti. @Djinn&Juice @Aleksei
  7. amenities

    Of Men and Half-Men Interest Check (Need 1)

    Yeah m8! My fav time to do it is when talking about VY Canis Majoris, because it's the easiest measurable instance of kiloparsecs.
  8. amenities

    Of Men and Half-Men Interest Check (Need 1)

    it's VY Canis Majoris to you, cause I'll blast you across 1.2 kiloparsecs with my winning response.
  9. amenities

    Not enough banks, am I right?

    Yeah I've been waiting!
  10. amenities

    Not enough banks, am I right?

    What if I needed help moving Iris to Aspyn? What if I WANT A BANK in Aspyn?
  11. amenities

    Not enough banks, am I right?

    YES PLEASE! OOC coming soon on investment.
  12. amenities

    Project Destroy Tia

    To save Tia, or let it burn. The cards will soon be on the table... Like the breaths of a slumbering titan, vampire and human Reichs rise and fall on Tian soil. The process seems doomed to repeat forever, the burning wheel rolling on and on to flatten the lives drawn to Tia’s cursed grounds. I have a character who seeks to break that wheel. He has planned in the darkness, with nothing other than Tia’s current social temperature as an indicator that the city’s razing looms just over the horizon, so defenses will be relegated to on-the-spot response. Cain Rose, First Officer of the Dead, has served as a human-favoring regent of Tia under the guise of a man known as Nica Sero for the last decade. On the surface, vampires agreed to step into smaller noble roles and mount fewer attacks on humans. However, about a year ago it was found out that Cain started up underground human trafficking rings in order to feed blood to the vampires and keep them politically civil. Cain was ousted as a result, and turned from the guise of humanity he had maintained in order to rule Tia. Now in an act of revenge, Cain will strike down on Tia with all the might of the Dead who once placed him at Tia’s head in the first place. Some contextual information: Maleficence is a synthesis of a drug the Dead has made use of for ages called Bliss. Unlike Bliss, which lured those who ingested it into bloodlust for specific races, Maleficence drives people into a blood crazed frenzy. They'll kill friends, family, and when they run out of other things, themselves. There are three mine shafts. Two are named after the former Tian Titans who disappeared in the civil war that displaced Cain. Shaft Ramesses and Shaft Ozymandias. The third, an unknown allusion to some, is called Shaft Aidni. There is a water purification center called Water Ablution Kormoir (WAK) through which all water in Tia passes before being distributed throughout the city. The Tia attack will have three objectives: 1. Infiltrate WAK, clear security there, and dump 4 barrels of Maleficence into a large vat called the Tia irrigator. 2. Three groups infiltrate the Ramesses, Ozymandias, and Aidni shafts with Maleficence-infused bombs. Once the -5th level has been infiltrated, the bombs will be planted beside the shafts’ main ventilators. Once Maleficence charges explode, a gargantuan plant infused with the poison that feeds on Tia’s steamy atmosphere and the loamy topsoil just beneath city streets and infrastructure burst to life, growing an accelerated chain of the Maleficence flower invasively throughout the city. 3. While the initial shock of Maleficence washes over the city and three teams cause some commotion making their way into the shafts, one group of highly skilled individuals will make their way for the group of vampire nobles who runs Tia (the Dolos and Matton clans.) in an attempt to unseat them. Roster: Attackers @Aleksei @danzilla3 @ourlachesism @-Lilium- @amenities @bfc @PandaHat @spacegy4 @Hurttoto Defenders @Ataraxy @Wade @SweetCyanide @Roen @Tyler @Mag @Twitterpated @Metty @Zashiii @paradigm Unknown @Dolor Aeternum @Grubbistch @Stumbler 1) WAK attack/Nobles and surrounding fighting @amenities @Wade @Mag @Stumbler @bfc @SweetCyanide 2) Shaft @Grubbistch @danzilla3 @spacegy4 @-Lilium- @Hurttoto 3) Shaft R @Dolor Aeternum @ourlachesism @Zashiii 4) Shaft O @Roen @Aleksei @paradigm @PandaHat 5) General Evac and surrounding fighting @Tyler @Metty @Ataraxy @Twitterpated *Looking to get started in the military by helping people evacuate to safety? Looking to cut your vigilante justice group's teeth by getting a taste of what some big criminal orgs are like? Maybe even join the organization by proving yourself? Then this thread is for you!* Registration for Defenders and Attackers is open now. Feel free to join on either side, just say which in your request. Final Clarifications: 1) Tia ends as a breeding ground for Maleficence. There's just plum no saving the place. The people, however, and the chaos-imbued location that remains afterward, are workable. 2) This is a COLLABORATIVE PIECE. Interaction with other characters, even on the other team should be planned unless otherwise stated. 3) Any armies or significant forces accompanying your character need to be listed here, like what Grubbitsch did 3 posts down. Good job @Grubbistch
  13. amenities

    Project Destroy Tia

    I'm fine with any of these options. You got 2 mil to hash out friends, let me know what you decide on and we'll roll with that!
  14. amenities

    Project Destroy Tia

    So while I have designated Aspyn as a refugee city and will send a significant population there, I'm willing to part with certain percentages for Norkotia and Taen based on IC effort in the Tia thread to divert citizens there. Of 7.1 million, 1.7 will die or go missing during the thread. That leaves 5.4 million survivors. I'll take 3.4 million and decide what percent of the 2 million you both get at the end of the thread. Maybe you two can do something fun like a roll for it, unless you just wanna brass tacks bust out story support for sending refugees your territories and evaluate it at the end of the thread.
  15. amenities

    Paladin's Quest for Atonement

    “No, revenge is a fool’s game. Our best bet is to sneak away while we can. We’ve got our window. We've got our package. Time to deliver it. Sound like a plan?” When Agamus looked to the Paladin for her voice of reason, he would instead find that Schier had relinquished him of his sheleigh and sauntered to the wall of the cave. *CRACK* Suddenly, the entire foundation of their and the trolls’ hovel began shaking. Carl stuck his her tongue out at Agamus. “Come on, grab the she-bitch!” said Schier, sliding the sheleigh under Agamus’ belt as she ran by. How’s that for a good feel? The trolls were incensed by the shaking cave, alerted to the piss stinking vigilantes. Schier scooped up Carl and cast the lanky man woman over her shoulder as a stampede of trolls ran after them from deeper in the cave. “Let’s get this wench back to her bonny lester!” “Who’s that?” asked Carl. “You're the she bitch!" "No. You idiot. No, who is my bonny lester?" "The old man down by the river!” answered Schier, eliciting no insignificant amount of squirming. "No no, don’t take me back there!” “We have to lass, that’s who ordered we save you!” “Please mister, talk some sense into this lady. I trust you, even though she stole your sheleigh.” simpered Carl at Agamus. “I just can’t go back to that old bag of adrakcha cheese.” Carl had slowed Schier down, and three of the fastest trolls had caught up with them. One was armed with a mace, the other with a bludgeon, the third with big hairy arms. They weren’t his arms though; he was literally flailing the dismembered arms of another troll, who ran armless behind him all in a conniption. Troll A1 sauce: Give my arms back! Troll B42 bomber, wielding arms: Never! I am Goro! Fatalityyyy!
  16. The trolls of Dark'n'Doomy all died of old age while they were waiting for you to post! Threat neutralized

    1. Die Shize

      Die Shize


      So did your post just close the thread or do I post to close the thread or is there thread in my post and are there rocks in my socks

    2. amenities


      You can make a close post. Tia is actually dead now so there's no need to get too exhaustive on this one lol

    3. Die Shize

      Die Shize

      Yeah I’m good if we want to have your post close it. Maybe my dashing swordsman and your ogre she-man can team up again down the road.



  17. amenities

    [T1] Iscariate Lichthammer :VS: Nica Sero

    As Nica spun, the fountains of black gore emanating from his sleeves had hardened into scythely blades extending from the fountaining muck. The downward diagonal trajectory of his strike and Lichthammer’s dexterity caused the possessed Nica’s right blade to dig into his target’s left shoulder. The muck that composed the Troll didn’t fling all over the place, but instead flowed back into the body and covered Sero’s entire person. Like too much mascara running, Nica’s cheeks bled with the blackness that crawled up his face, concealing fearful eyes. Nica was becoming the black swamp monster from Scooby Doo, growing in size slowly. The conventional move, with one blade buried in Ischariate’s shoulder and the Mirror Fist in rapid subsequence, would be to rip the blade out and dodge. However conventions, unfortunately for the Trollborn Nica, were useless trifles to a beast of war. The Troll that was gathered around the base of the right scythe Battering Rammed forward around the blade, slamming into Ischariate’s shoulder just as Mirror Fist made impact to push Ischariate off the blade. (1) The intrusion of the blade, followed in quick succession by the blunt force, would cause significant damage. That was the exact moment at which the Mirror Fist collided with the solar plexus of the Troll-encased Nica. In the moment of its impact, the black mask left Nica’s face and all the air in his body wheezed out. The symbiotic ichor couldn’t even keep up with Nica’s body as he plummeted across the ring, snapping after his body like a rubber band a moment after Ischariate hit him, the symbiosis slamming into the far wall together. Tendrils extended from its back, raising Nica to his feet again. A small amount of blood could be seen around the black mouth of the Troll. The Troll was cold and unfeeling, but its host was little more than human. A swatch of tendrils remained connected to the floor, growing and growing so that a diagonal piston structure of black extended from the floor to Nica’s back. (2) In order to keep Ischariate busy, the construct whipped its left arm. A fan of three black spikes shot toward Ischariate, timed to impact him just moments after being hit by the Battering Ram. (3)
  18. Y'all are rock stars I'm the opposite, I could just throw a rock and hit a star for the fock of it

    1. Theseus


      -Amenities January 2019


      Speech 100

  19. amenities

    Destruction des morts

    Fungi, widemouth plants jagged with razor sharp pistils, plants with four and five and six sloping petals a meter in length. All manner of flora decimated the crust of Valucre and formed a jungled blemish upon the land of Tia. Twisting maws of vine and fruit engulfed entire districts in minutes, and from the tangled green flesh emerged the Maleficence infected. Purple filled their eyes and blood their mouths, body parts and hair and tattered clothing their hands. Nobody, even those with the wherewithal and resources to avoid infection, was safe from the violence invoked by the all-invasive Maleficence Plant. As Julius confronted a mishmosh of assailants of various degrees of contextual understanding and alliance, his officers moved dutifully to evacuate citizens. These officers would come face to face with another elite police force; the Problem Solvers. With masked faces and positive surface intentions, these heavily suited individuals bore no marks or behavioral traits to indicate that they were, in fact, working for the Dead. The Dead, however, were not explicit on evildoing— only one in every four transport, mostly containing children to adolescents, were transported to a secret holding facility established by the Dead in the Haunted Glen. The other three evacuated Tians to the nearest healthy town. Meanwhile, Shikai had attracted the attention Problem Solver no. 4. An explosion of warm blood and body parts shook and painted the alley walls as PS4’s missile collided with a corpse. He resisted the urge to shield his eyes, sensing the visor of his mask; and luckily too. A spray of blood parted like the red seas to a flying saber. PS4 clapped his hands together to catch the blade just as it *tinked* against his chestplate. By now, Shikai’s movements were unobscured to PS4 and he could see that the Zombie was closing in. Throwing the blade to the side, the armored PS4 took one step forward with his right foot and stiffened, extending his elbow so it would be right on schedule to connect with Shikai’s chin without extra maneuvering. The entire kingdom frothing with purple rage would be the last thing Koji and his men saw before entering Black Tower. Perhaps it would be the last thing they ever saw outside the Tower. At its crown sat the Heretic in eerie calm, who had spat on the union between humans and vampires and damned the entire kingdom to hell. He knew this was Cain’s Ode to him. Indeed, sitting on his throne of ram’s horns and vakar, Serafino realized that if he must wrest the kingdom from Cain’s control then Cain would invariably burn it to ash in his grasp. Looking out over the room as it quivered from explosions beneath, he saw a black conference table lined with chairs; he saw the archways that had never been made for him but he had come and taken anyway, still warm from the recently departed tyrant; he saw the pointed opening overlooking a bleak white sky trickling with purple smoke that rose from levels below and beneath, a tumultuous Tia; saw the door, barricaded with a steel bar. Then, looking to the left, he saw Nica. Petulant Nica, sitting on his frayed tweed chair with his raggedy, waterlogged journal. The gleam in Sero’s eyes, the suit that had never quite lost its pleated creases, the bouncing leg folded over the other. Heretic flew from his perch— literally flew— and destroyed the bars to Nica’s cage with his mere momentum. His significant figure bore down on Sero; clawed, maroon hand of leather wrapping around the retired regent’s throat. “I know you’re in there Cain,” he spat in low tones, pointed nose mashed against Nica’s, marble eyes bearing into his. “I’m going to kill your puppet mayor just like he tried to kill you the second you gave him some freedom.” Nica clenched his jaw as the Tower shook again, but not because of the shaking. He had betrayed Cain. He was only alive because of Cain, and wasn’t his life a little better than it might have ever been? Was enduring all this pain worth it? Was there anywhere for Nica? “Yes, you hate him. I see it in your eyes.” “No I don’t!” Nica broke, yelling back with sharp and sudden anger in his eyes that shocked the Patriarch of Tia. Maybe, just maybe, Cain could hear him. “I just didn’t see another way out alive. I want to live for—” Serafino released Nica. In the exact same moment, like sliding one’s hand along a perfectly glass sheet of ice, Nica felt something slide into his abdomen. Looking down, he saw something a thin line sticking out of his gut, pressing the fabric in around his stomach. Adjusting his head a little bit, he realized it was not a line but the flat dimension of a blade he had been looking at. It wasn’t the motion of stabbing in that hurt, he thought, it was the wrenching motion of pulling it out. Giving that blood the air to scream out in pain. And scream the poor, innocent mayor did, falling to his knees and pressing his hands over the wound Heretic dealt. “He’s coming for you now Nica, can’t you feel it!?” Serafino spun around in ecstasy, not even noticing as very trace amounts of purple smoke seeped into the room through vents and from outside. In all that the Dead did, they were surgical. Everywhere they went was followed by death and success. One thing they had not heard in some time was the voice of the First. One two-hundred yard stretch of land separated Cain from Feurerkonig when Rose departed the moving carriage. Through a wide alleyway and across a small field, Cain saw the fire king standing in a circular park outside the Watch Fort. The Earthbreaker’s trot turned into a sprint. Exercising his seamless connection with a kingdom that never forgot him, his left palm was born a green bud nurturing a vine that twisted up his arm and began to fatten. (1) In his right fist manifested earth, which encased his arm up to the elbow and created a polearm. The polearm hardened and darkened into an obsidian color, lengthening to create a black sword from his arm. Land seemed to warp around the puppeteer as the alleyway flew by him, as he vaulted a gate with his sheer stride and the space between First and Feurer was ripped away in vicious chunks. He bore his teeth with wicked satisfaction at the moments to come. Cain jumped and brought the polearm down on Feurerkonig. The earth would crater and leaves would scatter in the cyclones of his first strike.

    1. bfc


      You tell me.

      We've done threads together and everything.

    2. amenities


      LOOOLL magnificent response, good sir.

      I find it scrumptious

    3. Flame Hero: Endeavor

      Flame Hero: Endeavor

      How would you not RP as a cat?

      Just rp as a talking cat. 


  21. Freedom in the Innocence of Avarice ouse Dali emerges ever farther from the sands of history, golden family roots finding light and thriving in the cracked dirt. Word of seamless Northtrail leadership and culturally privy Goldcourt tongues spread like wildfire. Attributes, members, and associates of the family’s branches were soon to be found in almost as many places as word of them could be. With growing recognition of the family, as with growing recognition of anything, came a swell of those who held house Dali in ill rapport. While reception of the family was largely well met, the world must always pockets of dissolution. The culturally privy could be mistaken for conniving, the air of leadership snide. What is this? Avarice Goldjest, considered a connoisseur of fashion in his circle of family and friends, had taken liberties with his father’s small fortune and gone travelling the Terran countryside with a couple friends. Well, he had come to village outside Dougton when he found himself accosted for his effeminate attire. Avarice stood up for himself boldly, flavoring his rebuttal with a couple spicy words he thought might add to his masculinity. Unfortunately for Avarice, the person he had exchanged verbal fisticuffs with was the village elder. His friends were not of enough fortitude to defend him when a group of luddite farmers in a recovering village called Tormo had locked him up for the slew of pompous insults; they were, however, man enough to return to House Dali and request help for their friend’s unfortunate blunder. In addition to a warning about the happenings upon Avarice, his friends tell of a large wolf prowling the area that attacks Tormo at night. Belos Titansinger, high priest and lawman of House Dali, answers the call to trial for Avarice’s freedom with two apprentice attorneys or journeymen he finds along the way. Together, the three will venture to Tormo and, do trial with the primitive folk village’s high counsel, and do what it takes to get their loudmouthed cousin back. Just how they will accomplish this feat may entail more danger and surprise than first meets the eye. What do we need? 1-2 people: Join Belos and save Avarice to advance in legal standing in house Dali; see what you can find in the blossoming village of Tormo; attempt to gain favor with the high counsel of Tormo, with Avarice, or Belos. @Diremast @KittyvonCupcake @ethela penna @Witches Brew (All other Dali family members tagged just in case they want to participate)
  22. amenities

    The Law of House Dali

    “Don’t,” came the sharp first word from the effeminate shadow as Evienne apologized. "Don't even worrryyyy about it girrrl," Evie would find that the flamboyantly dressed Prescott nobleman didn’t look that incensed at all. In fact, when he turned his subtly contoured face toward her it was with a smile. His heels clicked on the tile as he made his way to her. From a recess in the wall emerged a slim butler carrying a tray. The tray donned two steaming cups of tea. “Fancy a spot of tea?” asked Prescott. If and when Evie took the tea, she would see that its consistency didn’t look quite right. The way it sloshed in the cup as he offered it to her looked a little.. Murky. Meanwhile, Vesper and the Undertaker drew nearer and nearer. “Ladies and gentleman gather round! Tonight’s entertainment features the champion of a man who wronged a Prescott nobleman!” Unsurprisingly to Vesper, nobody had ever collected the outsider's name. Perhaps to Vesper’s surprise, the crowd chuckled at the mention of Prescott. “This champion will face none other than the Undertaker!” The subtle bow, the resisted urge, the clang of a rusty cowbell, and the Undertaker lunged forward. He carried a shortsword that he unsheathed and extended for Vesper’s ribcage with unnatural quickness. His brown eyes never shifted an inch, pressing further the notion that something was not right about the Undertaker as he lunged. His form, from his right leg extended backward to his left sword-arm extending forward, created a perfect line from the ground to Vesper’s chest as he dashed for her. The Undertaker seemed less versed in words than in combat, but that still gave him a lot of potential for words. Vesper would have to work for Avarice’s atonement. House Dali presently worked its magic on three different points around Tormo. The last point of this savvy triangle was composed of Belos and Merida. Merida, with new power flowing through her and the reassuring Belos at her side, had it right. They were indeed committing a crime in one culture by releasing Avarice prematurely. What Merida was not as sure of as Belos, however, was that they would successfully free Avarice anyway. “What are you doing?” Avarice said to Merida as she approached with the sheep at first. He caught her cue though, taking her hand as she blocked out the smell of livestock and the filth of the guards. The sheep, with as confused an expression as Avarice, subtly glowed as Belos distracted the guards. One of them began to look as Merida focused on the transition, but Belos clapped a hearty hand on his shoulder and issued a booming laugh at one of his dad jokes, handily redirecting the guard’s attention. Merida would find that switching the appearance of Avarice and the sheep was made immensely easier by the artifact Belos had given her, but it was indeed taxing. She would find herself still able to stand, but slightly out of breath, as the sheep took on a quite intelligent sheen in its eye and Avarice became as dumb as a rock. He immediately went to drop on all-fours after Merida did her magic. The guards whipped around. “Hey!” One of the three guards said, reaching for Merida. Instead of grabbing her though, he smacked Avarice’s hand out of hers. “No touching people, prisoner!” the guard yelled at Avarice. That was when one of the other guards looked at Merida. He sized her up, perhaps seeing her state of fatigue from the spell. He hadn’t made any connection between her and the transmutation yet, but he was slightly suspicious. “Hey, you. What’s up, why are you so worn out?”