Avvercus

Would that be a retroactive punishment then? Someone goes on a murder spree for 2 threads that get canonized, then tries to shrug off any pushback for an extended period of time. Would you retroactively invalidate their previous threads that were already canonized? I could see that as being an ok punishment. If they refuse to accept the consequences, it's like saying they didn't want to add to the canon in the first place. I like that. I like that quite a bit.

100% agree. Might want to clarify the punishment for god-modding in this case, however. Also clarify whether or not this only applies to activity in canonized threads.

It was the best part of the day for the people of Aspyn. That luminous, lethargy-inducing, life-granting, ludicrously hot ball of fire in the sky met its daily demise known as Mt. Bia’Thera. The sun slunk behind the volcanic guardian, casting a shadow colossus across the thriving bastion of survivors and thrivers. While that didn’t ease the oppressive humidity, all still found solace as they put down their axes and kicked up dirty boots for a well-deserved meal at the end of a hard day’s work. One such pair swung back and forth beneath a chair. Bright, yellow, and made of a shiny waterproof material, they belonged to a girl who hummed happily to herself as her head bobbed side to side to the beat of her own song. She drank from a large pitcher of water and waited patiently, eagerly fidgeting in excitement. The tent she sat in was barely twenty paces to the west of Aspyn lumber, the city’s mill and a damn fine one at that. Here, all the folk still slick with sweat mixed with sawdust would find hot meals and heavy ale waiting to reward their hard work. Ask anyone around, and they’d all agree Aralyn’s arrival had brightened up the place. Spirited, gungho, and perpetually in a joyful mood, the young woman in a raincoat fit in just fine among the multiracial fallout of Bi’le’ah. Even amongst such a diverse crowd of nymphs and elves, humans and halflings, there was no one quite like her. Setting down the pitcher caused wood chips, bits of leaf, and aspyn dust to lazily swirl beneath her translucent light-green skin. No, Aralyn Voxinium was most certainly the only half-slime to be found here. Navigating the chaotic mess of locally made wooden tables and cheerfully chattering woodworkers, the proprietor set down a hefty plate at the tiny slime’s table. “Here you go, little Lyn, the usual. Did ya work hard today?” the burly man, a lumberjack turned cook, asked with a grin. The slime girl set down the book she had been reading and jumped up with a cheer, knocking her chair over in excitement. “Yup! Lyn did her best and got praised by the boss man! Thank you Mister Jeesin!” she bubbled back in that girlish, echoing voice of hers. Jyashin chuckled and gave her a thumbs up. He didn’t have the heart to correct the way she pronounced his name. He took a step back to watch the show that was about to start, and the sounds of creaking and scraping wood announced that others turned around to watch as well. No one had quite gotten bored of seeing what happened next on a daily basis. Grabbing the bone sticking out of the grilled Okapi thigh that had been set before her with human-like fingers, Aralyn lifted the entire piece of meat above her head. She jutted her chin to the sky and opened wide, stretching her mouth wide like only someone made of slime could before letting the meal slowly sink in. And sink it did, in full view of anyone looking. Meat and bones drifted through the viscous liquid in her neck before slipping past the neckline of her raincoat and disappearing from sight. “Mmmmmm, yummy~” the girl beamed, seemingly happy with the taste. A tendril formed at the end of her hair picked the fallen chair back up before she sat down and went back to reading her book on local wildlife. As she flipped a page, the PH levels of her body began to plummet in order to digest her food. Just another day here in Aspyn for Aralyn. For someone used to constant travel and daily challenges, the girl had to admit she was getting a bit restless. She hoped something new would happen, and soon, or she might not be able to wait here for much longer.

I've been away and inactive from Val for a while, but I've made a return. Let me know if you ever need a writing buddy.

I am late to the party, but welcome to Valucre.

Evelyn’s worries were not unfounded. Had the Handyman been any slower in its movement, Rainza’s retaliation would have been hot and vicious. However, their flight was jarring and disorienting, just enough of a distraction to allow her to keep her cool. Her boots skidded across the ground along with Evelyn, and like the spider, she found her knees wobble and fail her as they came to a stop. Several thoughts took over her mind all at once. The frightening mobility of Evelyn, the discomfort of being in a place that seemed to be actively trying to murder her, and the bone-chilling realization of what they almost got caught in. Rainza stared at the sepia afflicted area they just managed to avoid. Her master in martial arts was a mage, and had explained to her several things about magic. One of them was the sheer power and skill required to manipulate time. Staring at the dislodged limbs her new companion left behind, she came to appreciate just how dangerous this place truly was. She whipped up into a defensive crouch as soon as she found her bearings, turning her head about looking for further threats. When none were forthcoming, she heaved a sigh and stood to her full diminutive height to regard her savior. “The artifact is an arm bangle. It’s supposed to make a magic shield of some kind.” She finally answered, unintentionally omitting that the bangle was made of valuable materials that by themselves made it worth seeking out. To her, that wasn’t important information. “I was told it can be found on the remains of a noblewoman who was hung from a tree.” A brief pause. Her sapphire eyes glanced at the spider’s injuries. Her lips parted as if to say something, but clamped shut. She turned around, showing her back wide and open to the handyman as she took the lead. “A blue well sounds easier to find here than a tree with a corpse,” she suggested without looking back. Her eyes were on the path ahead, where the street gave way to a large patch of city where nothing but rubble lay. The concrete was torn like a plowed field, and the buildings all faired about as well. Taking her first ginger step onto this new terrain, she found it was oddly like walking on rough sand. Something massive must have happened here, to reduce the infrastructure like this. Something about it raised the hair on the back of her neck. “I don’t think we should go this way. I’m getting a bad feeling. Any suggestions?”

Respecting the canon is the most key part of that, I think. Use NPCs as you see fit, but keep them true to their canon. I like it, it works for me.

It was almost ambient, the dirt grinding beneath wagon wheels, the clunk of wood smacking together as the vehicle's frame swayed from its unique imperfections, and the occasional snorts from their horse named 'Tobi'. Like a white noise she could focus her mind to the beat of, perfect for meditation. Yet, something kept the girl from doing just that. Of course, she knew just what it was. Some stubborn urge in the back of her head, like a teenage girl raging against her parents. Avvercus had told her to meditate whenever she had the downtime. It was instructions from her master, when he was her master. But now, he had abandoned her, left her in the care of some stranger. Dropped her once again to fuck off and flirt with women and do whatever stupid thing his infuriating goddess bid him do. Why listen to the words of someone who no longer held authority over her? As if on queue, fate would have it that both she and the horse chose to snort in unison at the thought. She grumbled at the irony, but any actual mumbling was cut short at the crazy one's words. "Do you forget?" Her gaze listed from the sword's blade, the object of her eye's ire for the last 10 minutes, to Antique's. She narrowed her brow at what she saw. A golden passageway into eternity, so alike Avvercus' own. With a snap, she shoved the sword back into its sheath. "No. I forget nothing, no matter how badly I wish it. Just another curse that comes with what I have been made. Every detail of my miserable life can be as easily recalled as opening my eyes and watching you here in the present. How nice it would be..." She answered seriously, lowering her gaze to the wagon bed, if only for the pain she saw hiding in the shadows of Antique's gaze. "But," she began, lifting her eyes back up, "I wouldn't want to forget anyway, even if I could. It would be weak of me to deny reality. Denying my past is denying the person I have become. To me, my ego is more important than anything. It's the one thing they couldn't take away, and I will never willingly give it up." Rainza continued, looking into her company's golden mirrors. She said this more to herself than her conversation partner. Affirmed it, really. "Why do you forget?" pointed words, almost an accusation. But, at the same time, more of a whimsical question. She had little faith she'd receive a coherent answer.

As Rin settled into the chair, the woman in white began rapid firing questions about her health history. Satisfied after a minute or two, she turned around. From behind, Hudson could see the white clothing was more an apron and hat than anything, because the frills of a maid outfit were clear as day. This individual wasn’t a doctor… The maid saw Hudson’s skeptical gaze, and immediately pointed to something on the wall. There hung a medical degree, framed with pride. Though he couldn’t read it, the meaning was easy to interpret. He sighed and made no move to stop what went on. Rather, he approached his tiny, pale companion on the side that wasn’t being swabbed with cleaning solution and wrapped in a rubber band in what he had to admit was a professional manner. Kneeling down, he did his best to smile at her. Or, as much as Hudson smiled. “Look at me, Rin,” he said, taking her hand in his. The ‘nurse’ or ‘doctor’ or whatever the maid was supposed to also be placed the tip of the needle to the healer’s skin, hunting for a vein. “I want you to picture something.” The needle seemed to have found its entry point. “The cat,” he hissed, squeezing her hand just as the needle took the plunge. “Just… Why? Is that… Do people normally do that in this world?” He glanced at the blood collecting in what was quite literally a pint-sized glass jar on the counter. The blood reached a certain point and the ‘nurse’ went to tug the needle out. Hudson squeezed Rin’s hand at the same time that the instrument left her body and then stood up. “Are you feeling alright?” At the entrance to the room, the maid Charlotte waited patiently to take them to their room when they were ready. “If you’re light-headed, I’ll carry you again.”

The dancing flames which signified rest flickered through the reflection in Avvercus’ eyes. He didn’t let it show, but the small encounter with the Ombra had worn him out a bit, evidence he was still recovering from his alchemic ordeal. Just as he was about to relax and await dinner, the swordmage found himself whisked away by a strong finger crooked into his robes. Though he allowed himself to be dragged away with some reluctance, Avvercus couldn’t say that even if he resisted on strength alone he would have succeeded. Isbeth was rather strong, it seemed. His reluctance melted away at the inviting tone of his arachnid escort’s voice. Practically pushed along in front of the spider woman, Avvercus peered inside her home with curiosity. Honestly, this was not something he’d ever seen or heard of before from arachnids despite the many he had encountered during his travels. It was surprisingly spacious, more than enough to fit one of their kin within, just as the two had claimed. He stopped just before the blankets, taking care not to tread on them with his boots, before turning around. “This is quite the wagon… Comfortable, protects against the elements... Spacious. Since you have so much room, you won’t mind sharing with me tonight, will you?” He asked with a mischievous smile. It was then he noticed that there was no way for him to the leave the mobile home with Isbeth standing in the entrance and chuckled. “Or, perhaps you’ve already caught me in your web?” The smell of dinner beginning to cook wafted in from behind Isbeth. It would be quite a while until it was done. His mental link with Abigail would let him know if Miriam decided Ombra meat wasn’t enough of a dinner, and spending some time out of the Alchemist’s sight and forcing her to spend company along with something she detested might give her an opportunity to open up… and perhaps he would have some fun of his own in the meantime. Of course, the man had yet to rule out that this was an elaborate ruse to lower his guard. He kept it in mind, but it didn’t mean his guard was lowered none the less.

For lesser men, mere death was always the greatest fear to grasp the heart. Ansen of Carilssia, however, was no lesser man. Flashes of sepia blur the edges of his vision as festering focus fails to hold her thrashing visage center. Flesh drips with the oozing of mist, and a young girl’s face becomes a bloody obscurity. The image twists, fading into withering flames, dying embers that light the weeping face of a failed Priestess. A chorus of triumphantly howling demons are the first bell, and the blood-choked sobs of a lover left to die are the final toll, the toll of responsibility shirked… Before he even registered he was conscious, before his eyes could properly see past the bleary veil of slumber, Ansen’s bed was abandoned to kneel before another. Her porcelain skin was warm to the touch, where the bandages didn’t cover it. That face, always so serious and fierce, was oddly at peace in her dreams. Heaving a breath at the steady rhythm of her tiny chest rising and falling, the knight finally stood to take in his surroundings and ease the shivers that racked his stiff, healing body. The dreams were intense. No, not dreams, nightmares. Ansen did not fear death, but failing to protect what he held most precious. It was a dingy tent, barely clean enough to be called fit for the sick, but one that sufficed all the same. His armor was nowhere to be seen; memory recalled there wasn’t much left of it regardless. But, as sure as the sun rose each morning, there rested his faithful bulwark. The shield of a Carilssian knight, blessed by the Goddess of the order and bearing its crest. With its comforting weight on his arm, Ansen turned towards the tent entrance, his thoughts turning towards acquiring information on their situation. Deadly grace and beautiful lethality were good descriptors for the woman that stood there now. She appeared without a sound, not even the flap of tent cloth. Her eyes were a viridian forest, calm and hiding all manner of hidden mysteries and dangers. They were framed by long, silken emerald hair that cascaded down her back like an undisturbed waterfall, parting around long ears that marked her as an elf. Her body was a pale, honed blade, lithe and toned through diligent training and sporting average sized breasts and hips. She wore an exotic warrior’s attire, an all white ensemble that blurred the line between monk and dancer, and that showed off what Ansen thought was perhaps too much skin. She carried no weapons that he could see, and the man couldn’t image she’d be able to hide one with her garb. “It seems Carilssian knights are as sturdy as I remember. I expected you to be asleep at least one more day. Congratulations on surviving, Ansen.” Her feminine voice was soft, kind, and brimming with confidence and experience. The knight drew a breath of surprise at hearing his order’s name from a stranger’s mouth, less his own. “How do you know these things?” “I have been to your homeland, long, long ago. As for your name… I had ample opportunity to learn it while watching the two of you stumble around like lost babes in the valley of mist.” This was said with a certain air of superiority, one that lacked the venom of condescension, but rather the tone of an elder watching a child make mistakes born of inexperience. Ansen’s eyes flickered to Rainza, who for a moment appeared before him as a broken mess upon some strange ground in a strange place. Embers flecked away from his skin as anger swelled up, hot and righteous. “You watched? Why did you not help? My lady nearly died! She… Endured that pain, those sickening wounds… Why!?” Ansen snarled, nearly shouting at the stranger as the rare emotion of fury swept him up in its fiery wings. “Help? And deny the two of you experience, the chance to grow?” She asked with exasperation, shaking her head. “No, I think not. That aside, it was a trial, boy. My apprentice, Avvercus, has been teaching her, and he claims she is already beyond what he can impart. He asked that I take over as her master. Of course, I wouldn’t simply say yes. She exceeded my expectations… and surprisingly, so did you.” Arieya smiled, walking further into the tent to stop at the foot of Rainza’s bed, looking down at her with impressed eyes. They turned to Ansen, who was still processing what he was being told. What did she mean? “You know our names, is it not rude to conceal your own?” “Haha, you needed only ask. I am Arieya.” The elf chuckled at Ansen’s standoffishness. She turned her gaze from the knight to the unconscious Rainza and back. “The two of you are… mates, are you not?” Ansen blushed immediately, looking away but not denying the claim. “You want to be to be by her side? You want to protect this reckless fool?” Ansen stared into the viridian forest for a spell, searching for malice, but finding none. He nodded with knit brows full of affirmation. “You should have realized it by now. She is stronger than you. And she is not content to live a peaceful life. She is going to throw herself into danger over and over from now on, as she always has. You can’t protect her if you can’t even protect yourself against what this woman will drag you into… Let alone save your land.” Ansen’s fist tightened at this, but he held his tongue. She spoke the truth. “With my guidance, she will only grow stronger. I offer you the same strength, Ansen of Carilssia. I will not give it to you. I will never give you anything. Rather, you will gain it yourself. By your own hands, you will earn the power to protect what is precious to you through blood, sweat, and tears. I offer you the choice to take hold of your own Fate, at my side beneath the Emerald Banner. What say you?” Arieya spoke with passion, standing with her back straight and eyes aglow with strength as she stared down at the man and awaited his answer.

A low, annoyed hiss of air escaped Rainza’s nose. There was no dealing with rotted reason. She wouldn’t bother trying. The woman was patient; She would get her answers from the man himself. Her eyes were cold as they stared down at the panicking burden, and she wondered what she was doing here. Right, boredom. Curiosity. A request to fulfill. Perhaps with time there would come a moment of lucidity. The moment she was able to properly deliver the sword, she would be off. She sat on the bench across from Antique and manifested the object that brought her here. With an unpracticed motion, Rainza drew the blade from its scabbard. To her untrained eye, the masterwork steel was no different from any other naked blade. The overcast sky caused the slender blade to glint softly from the glow of her eyes as she examined it. Specifically, she appraised the runes engraved along its length. Carved with magic in what she easily recognized as Avvercus’ graceful script, she unfortunately could not translate them. He had attempted to give her a rudimentary education on the arcane languages, but the girl’s disinterest quickly had him abandon the venture. “How long will this journey take?” she asked in a tone that said she wouldn’t be disappointed if an answer did not come.

“Avvercus,” the swordmage replied with a gesture of his own along with a smile. Satisfied that a fight wasn’t about to break out, he reached a hand towards the Zweihander, causing the large blade to fly to his hand. The glowing sword dissipated into ghostly weaves of green mana that swirled about Avvercus, growing fainter and smaller over several seconds until most of it had disappeared. What remained had become a pair of runes that attached to his pupils, granting the mage darkvision. “She’s not used to her life being in danger. Having and Ombra try to eat her has probably affected her nerves. Worry not, I’ll help her.” Avvercus wove a finger through the still night air, tracing green patterns that formed into a simple levitation rune. He whisked it towards Abigail, causing the magic command to float around her person. Immediately, the alchemist was suspended a few feet off the ground. Her floating body followed along behind Avvercus as he turned to follow their hosts for the evening. The group re-entered the forest, and within a few short minutes at the camp. Tucked next to an old trade road, it was a simple affair. A clearing with enough room for two carts, the likes of which Avvercus had never seen before. A campfire, loaded with logs and kindling and simply waiting to be lit sat in the middle. Avvercus obliged, waving a hand towards the circle of stone and wood from where he stood at the edge of the camp. A small tornado of mana flared up around it for a brief moment. When it faded, a nice roaring campfire crackled away. Avvercus set Abigail down next to himself, letting the rune fade before turning away from her. She must be going through a lot in her head at the moment. She hated herself for being spider-esque, surely these two horrified her. He thought it was good for her, to be exposed to this, however. Humanizing what she viewed as inferior, disgusting, ect. was possibly a step towards opening her mind. “What are those?” He asked Miriam, pointing towards the carts he was unfamiliar with.

The weight of one thousand stars could not compare. Civilizations had risen and fell, ages come and gone, eras forged to be ultimately forgotten by all but ink on paper, and still his soul had carried this burden. Countless lives had flourished and fallen by Saiph’s hand; his sins and deeds were many, yet this was the only one that truly held his regret like an inescapable gravity. Yet, it was now, with so few words, words so profoundly simple, that goosebumps rippled across his skin aching with relief. In her gentle embrace, his nails dug into a back he had once kept safe at the expense of all, until the day he had abandoned it completely. Born aloft on the shoulders his tears now rolled down, Avvercus’ soul soared, finally freed from a weight one thousand stars couldn’t hope to compare to. “Raven…” He trembled He shuddered He finally smiled His sun had sank beneath the horizon once, never to be seen again. Or, so he had thought. But, the man had forgotten that beyond the moonlit sky, beyond the cold and lonely night, a new dawn was waiting. And here it was, Raveena had returned. His sun of the past had risen once again, come to brighten his days here in the bitter present. Perhaps he had not been there for her in the end, but it was his loyalty, and the valor of his brothers and sisters in the Order of Orion, that had kept her safe long enough to save herself. This thought warmed his heart even as her embrace warmed his body, and would for the rest of the night.

“Well, I’ll do my best to make up for it. I’m sure I can find some other way to make your evening exciting,” Avvercus grinned. The swordmage made no effort to ward off Isbeth’s obvious interest in him, but rather reciprocated. When Isbeth began her merry laughter, he found himself cackling along. When Abigail outright refused the invitation to dinner, had he not been laughing Avvercus would have raised an eyebrow. She would waste a perfectly good random encounter like this? It was clear as day that this was Fate’s intent, who would squander it? We should take their offer. If things go well, I can likely enlist them as guides, or at the very least learn about the locale. I’ve never traveled Genesaris like this, they would save us both time and danger in the coming days. Avvercus’ telepathy gently prodded at Abigail’s mind while he watched her exchange with Miriam. He then spoke up while approaching his charge with a reassuring gesture. “Come now, Abigail. A short rest wouldn’t hurt. Besides, we can’t eat that much meat ourselves, and I’m certain these two know how to cook Ombra better than I do,” Avvercus flashed a convincing smile. He seemed to realize something suddenly, as he preluded his next sentence with a quiet ‘Ah!’. “My name is Avvercus, a pleasure to meet the both of you,” he introduced himself, looking from one spider to the other.