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King

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King last won the day on April 7 2018

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About King

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    The Virtuoso
  • Birthday 01/11/1990

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  1. 04/21/2019 Canon update. Sokui no Rei: A grand celebration held in the Midlands in honor of the newly anointed Empress.
  2. Any update on the unnamed island? As of today (04/19/2019), Arlais will be under @vielle's oversight. If you have any questions, please direct them to her.
  3. Quinton eyes the vacant seat beside the Hildebrand noble, then the stalwart knight behind her. “I’d had the additional seat prepared for you, Ser Iyalon. I can think of no better place for you to protect your Lady than beside her. Besides, you haven’t eaten, either, and you are also a guest in my home. I’ll not take no for an answer.” To emphasize the severity without being impolite, he steeples his fingers beneath his chin, gray eyes focused on the armored man. The silence persists as long as it takes to persuade the man, and only once Iyalon is seated does Quinton smile and continue speaking. “As for you, Lady Varda, you’re far too generous with your praise. I merely did what any host worth their salt would have done. You are a noblewoman of an esteemed house to Ursa Madeum. What is some serum when compared to your wellbeing?” He doesn’t smile, but the weight of his gaze lessens—as it often does when he looks at her—into something more agreeable with admiration, perhaps even affection. “If anything, I’m simply pleased that it worked so well. “The key ingredient of that serum is quite… mm, antagonistic toward the arcane. It seeks it out violently, eradicating all traces of it. In its raw and unrefined state, an injection the size you were given last night would kill a mage, or any other magically-gifted individual.” Pausing, Quinton sips his tea – one of his few personal joys in life. “There’s been a great deal of time, research, and money invested into perfecting that serum. Now, having experienced what you have, you can see why.” There is a hint of a frown on his lips, barely visible in the creased corners, but there all the same. “When I first began this venture, it was with the mindset that magic is a disease. But the more time I’ve spent with magic and those capable of harnessing it, I’ve learned that it isn’t a disease, but rather, it is a parasite. And we must ensure that it remains a mutually beneficial relationship. “Left unchecked and unregulated, magic will be the end of this world. I think we can all agree there is a large portion of the population that should not have access to something so powerful as magic. Take whomever it was that gave Lady Varda that wound, for example—or the countless other terrorists that have plagued Terran borders.” Gray eyes look over Varda’s body, studying her bandaged side. “Imagine a world where these criminals can be sterilized, ensuring they will never again threaten the world with their sorcery. Or ordinary people that have no interest in the arcane can be healed of supernatural afflictions?” His eyes narrow, sharpening his gaze. “Make no mistake, Lady Varda… you would have died last night had I not done what I did. You, one of the gentlest and kindest people I have ever met, murdered by some rogue’s dark magic. You should not have to live in such a world. And that is what I’m trying to fix.”
  4. King

    Laws Yet Inked

    “It never ceases to amaze me how you hear only what you want to hear,” Rafael replied, letting the slight crease of his lips into a frown satisfy the need to display his irritation. “I said that these papers will do until we can afford it,” he corrected her, “and not a moment sooner. If you paid half as much attention to your own predicaments as you did trying to undermine me, we might not be having this conversation in the first place.” She truly did bring out the worst in those around her. Try as they might to help, to love her, to guide her from her self-destructive ways, she spurned their attempts and, rather than welcome their affection, invited their ire instead. Pushing off from his desk, the elder moved across the room to one of the many shelves lining the wall. He traced his fingers along the spines of the books that lived there, murmuring their names to himself, recalling their passages and lessons. He’d read them all, of course—some during his prolonged stay in Orisia, others as he governed the Empire from the Red City. A long, tapered fingernail rapped against the emerald spine of one of the thicker tomes, its golden letters read The Wealth of Nations, Volume One. “As for your quip regarding the ‘history’ of Orisia—well, I think it’s safe to say we both know I’m not the impulsive one. I also don’t speak simply because I enjoy hearing myself. When I speak, Gabriela, it’s because I actually know something.” He returned to desk and gently placed the behemoth text before her, then gestured to it with an enthusiastic wave. “Perhaps you should read some history, rather than thinking you’ve re-invented the wheel. True enough, Orisia’s economy is growing, but not nearly as much as it once was. I would imagine that a constant state of chaos and costly disasters has a great deal to do with that,” he noted begrudgingly. “It’s hard to make expensive furniture and jewelry when your resources are being burned to the ground, or you’re making shields, swords, and barracks instead. “But, more to the point, a proper tax system can help ensure situations like the one you find yourself in now do not happen,” he explained matter of factly. “Because you try to shoulder everything, when you fail—and more often than not, my beloved cousin, you do fail—all that you’ve set in place comes crashing down. What would it have mattered had these barons robbed you, their queen, if these people were paying taxes? The throne would still have the necessary funds to see these projects completed, as your personal wealth and the wealth of your government should be two entirely separate things. “A small percentage of individuals that control the majority of this island’s wealth—a percentage you no longer are included in, mind you. Do you think these people have even considered donating their riches to bettering their homeland? And why should they? In your attempt to make amends for your uncle’s poor treatment of these people, you’ve coddled them, stripped them of the simplest responsibilities, and instead created a nation of vultures that are picking this land to the bone.” Rafael opened his mouth to lash her once more, facts and experiences as his whips, but then he stopped—he breathed in deep, sighed, and then strangely, he shrugged. “But what do I know? It isn’t as if I have studied these topics for more years than you’ve been alive.” Circling his desk, the elder took his seat and looked beyond his cousin, deciding to spare her the irritation she would find in his cold blue eyes. “I brought these issues to your attention because it is clear you would not have found them on your own, and I’d hoped you would be more… agreeable to helping me solve them.” Why was she always so difficult, the elder wondered, and the years he’d spent searching for that answer became readily visible on his face. Tired lines drawn beneath his eyes and across his handsome brow, which dispelled the illusion of his youth. “Contrary to what you might believe, Gabriela, I’m not stupid. I’m well aware that the entire world knows what an absolute fucking mess our relationship is. You’ve gone to great lengths to embarrass the devil and me; great lengths, indeed. The fact of the matter is that I don’t care. The wedding was for you.” No, he hadn’t forgotten her fantasies as a little girl, or the promises he’d made when they spoke of her wedding (still too young to realize the man she spoke to was her intended). It was to be the most beautiful affair in the history of their people, and everyone—from the richest noble to the poorest beggar—was to be invited and treated with kindness. There would be music, dancing, feasting, and flowers—an ‘ocean of flowers’, she’d made him promise. “But, pay no mind to the rambling of an old man,” he breathed, looking at her. “We still need to discuss the upcoming elections of city leaders; a growing concern with the Ceyana incident; and a desire for a more reliable communication network throughout the island."
  5. King

    Blood In, Blood Out

    “Water under the bridge. Everyone deals with grief in their own way.” Whether she believes his forgiving tone, bordering on indifference, is the young girl’s prerogative. Unfavorable though her theatrics were, making such a mess with all that blood, it provides him with information—and that, in any situation, will always be favorable. Looking back over his shoulder, he nods to D’artagnan. “Have one of the Seekers come, please.” The man nods and exits the room. “Now that we have some privacy,” he says, swiveling his attention back to Evienne, “I would like to apologize for being so bold. While I’m not sorry that she’s gone, as you’re quite an investment for me—and anyone that would seek to harm you, well, let’s call this merciful compared to what I would prefer be done to them—I will admit that this was a bit brazen. A bit too forward, even, but I needed to test you and this allowed us to eliminate two birds with one stone.” Quinton picks at the vagrant strands of hair that have plastered to her forehead, brushing them back and behind her ear—away from the blood—before hooking a finger beneath her chin, tilting her head back, and inspecting her self-inflicted wounds. “If you make it far enough in this life, and live to be old enough, you will come to understand the value of a pupil. Someone to inherit your dark legacy and carry the torch of black flame. They’ll mean everything to you, when you find them; perhaps even more than your greatest love or children. That is what I see in you.” He doesn’t smile, but there is a heavy, deep severity in his tone. Lowering her head by the chin, her levels her eyes with his. “I will give you the world, starting with Ursa Madeum. You need only take it.” D’artagnan returns with the Seeker, a bowl of water and a rag hiked on her hip, and Quinton gives the woman space to work her magic. The ornate jewelry on her hand glows as she runs her fingers over Evienne’s throat, not touching the flesh. The warmth of her magic weaves in and around the girl’s tattered flesh, stitching it back together. It’s finished in a matter of moments, and satisfied with her work, the Seeker nods and then leaves. Quinton resumes his place before her, gesturing to the corpse with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “Remove that,” he orders to D’artagnan, and with another silent nod, the man gathers the woman’s crumpled body in his arms and departs. Quinton takes the rag in his hand and dunks it in the warm water several times, wringing it lightly. He sets to cleaning her gently, taking his time with strokes along her throat that border the sensual. “In regards to your business with the Uldwars, I will make sure that you have all the funding you need to sway their court to your side you. For those that prove resistant to money, or those you find to be too vocal with their criticisms of you, I’ll lend you a small team of men to see them dealt with as you please.” The rag in his hands wanders all about her, from the curve of her jaw to the valley of her plump breasts. He takes his time cleaning away the blood, takes his time enjoying the soft curves and edges of her body. “My relationship with Varda is coming along. When she is my wife, I will see an alliance forged between our houses. After that, we can move onto the others.”
  6. Quinton is awake early, as always, much earlier than his guests and even earlier than some of his most vigilant security. There’s something that’s troubling him, a nagging itch in the back of his mind that won’t cease no matter how much he scratches it. Where have I seen that look before? It’s Iyalon that he’s seeing, that noble and silent knight, duty-bound and forever loyal to his Lady. He’s sketched the man half a dozen times since sunrise, each rendition identical in its likeness to the knight, and yet unsatisfying to its creator. It’s missing something, but what that something is, Quinton cannot place. The way he looked at Varda last night; it wasn’t the fear of a knight losing his charge. It was something more. Something… inappropriate, maybe? With that small thought, Quinton begins with Iyalon’s eyes again, the betrayers of the knight’s stoic expression. Those deep cobalt eyes, so dark they were nearly black. They held a gaze that was as wise as it was sullen; the eyes of a man that had seen many things, not all of it good or beautiful, yet not all of it evil or hideous. A man that had watched the woman he loved from afar for years, honoring his vow of protection over his heart’s thundering for affection. And Quinton’s hand moves across the paper, charcoal in his grip, he finds Iyalon, with his haunted eyes, staring back at him. He smirks, and continues his piece in earnest. He’s all but finished as his two guests enter the long room at the rear of the villa. The table has been set, topped with a modest spread of tasteful foods: fruits, pastries, smoked meats, eggs, toasts, a number of jams, and a selection of juices and teas. “Impeccable timing,” Quinton says, gesturing at the two plates he’s positioned beside each other. The meats and eggs are still sizzling. “They just finished setting the table.” For propriety’s sake, Quinton rises from his chair to greet the Lady and her knight, though he brings his sketch along with him. “You’re looking much better, Lady Varda,” he says, forgoing the intimacy between them in the presence of her guard. “And Ser, this is for you.” He presents the paper to the knight face-forward, letting him see how he’s been captured in Quinton’s collection. “I hope you find it… comparable. But come, you must be starving. You did miss dinner last night.”
  7. It seems the unnamed island has generated the most interest so far, so I'd definitely like to see the three of you maybe try to work something out that fits all three of your ideas into the same place (the island is pretty big, after all). If nothing can be agreed upon - though I don't see why not - I'll likely go with the idea I like most and feel will generate the highest amount of activity for the board. We talked about your ideas/plans and they were awesome, as expected. Sounds good. Yes, I highly encourage collaboration and trying to blend ideas. I suggest getting in touch.
  8. Sup boss man!

    1. King

      King

      Not a whole lot. The wheel in the sky keeps on turning.

    2. Armada

      Armada

      That's my eyeball actually. lol.

      Kinda thinking of returning to Val for 1-2x a week posts in your area.

  9. King

    Genesaris AMA.

    You either need to cut or stab them with the blade. It's a sword that can't kill. If you're in a fight and you go to chop someone's head off, the blade will pass through them and they will be cured of any and all ailments. This is automatic. It can be in the same thread that the individual died (even during combat; this may change in the future). However, a character may only be resurrected by Baeoi once. There are no exceptions to this rule and applies to both PCs and NPCs.
  10. I wouldn't necessarily say it's free. Individuals looking to claim these lands will be expected to produce a plan geared to generating a steady stream of activity, but also be charged with the creation and maintaining of the island's lore.
  11. The primary difference between the two islands is that Arlais is part of the Carmine Empire, while the unnamed island belongs to no government body.
  12. Do you want a banner for that world building opportunities thread? 

    1. King

      King

      That would be mighty nice.

  13. This thread will serve as a continuation of the archived Rulers and Activity Needed thread. Rather than having several recruitment threads scattered about the forum or information board, this can serve as the universal hub for interest checks and requests based out of Genesaris. This original post will serve as a master list. If you have a roleplay opportunity that you would like posted, either send me a PM or post here (but be sure to tag me so I see it) and I'll update the list. Once you've found all the people you'd like to have in the story, let me know and I'll remove it. I will also use this thread to post land grabs, major events, or promote fun activities that I see popping up around the board. Opportunities Land Grab: Arlais Island. Land Grab: Unnamed Island (formerly Nvengaria).
  14. 04/08/2019 Board update. Per the creator's request, Nvegnaria Island and all relevant lore pertaining to it have been archived.
  15. King

    Laws Yet Inked

    As the violence, jealousy, and passion ebbed and flowed against the shores of their relationship, it was not so long ago that Gabriela’s confession, while genuine and heartfelt, would have spurned her cousin into an abusive outburst. Physically, mentally, emotionally—no part of her was to be spared his scorching fury whenever she dared drive him to that dark, bitter place. But those tides had receded deep into a sea of virulent emotion, and left behind the man crouched before her now, gently thumbing her cheek. Lifting himself ever so slightly, and guiding her to him by way of the hand still cradling her face, Rafael kissed his wife with all the love she believed herself incapable of reciprocating. It was as gentle as it was deep, opening her mouth with his lips as he stole the cold winter that had gripped her heart, and instead, breathed into her the warmth of the Summer Isles. He kissed her long, savoring her sweetness and instinctual submission to an elder, and when he finished, there was a wry smile on his thin, glazed lips. “You loved me once, Gabriela,” Rafael whispered against her mouth. He pressed his brow to hers, closed his eyes, and let her feel through their bond that he had, in some ways, come to terms with their awful predicament. “It was, as you said the other night, a simple love, but it was pure. That memory is enough to satisfy my needs, for now.” The pain of the embarrassing rejection she’d suffered at the hands of her devil had all but masked the moment the two cousins had shared that night in her bedchamber, though she could never deny it. She’d loved him once, more than anything in the world. She would learn to love him again, in time. Rafael dipped her head again, placed a feathery kissed to each of her closed eyelids, and then finally the center of her brow, and then rose to his full height before her. Carefully, he tucked away the rebellious locks that had spilled across her face. “I’ve never denied that our relationship is… complicated, my love. It is a puzzle with many pieces, all of us having our place, our role. This is ours, whether we like it or not,” he said, bereft of any condescension. “That does not mean that I must make your life difficult or unpleasant. You are my wife, the mother of my child, my queen and empress, and Orisia—and all of its people—is important to you. That makes them important to me.” The devil wished to be left alone, to live the life that Gabriela had dreamed of from the moment she’d first tasted freedom. It was a cruel irony, one that the elder may have delighted in had it not left him to be the one cleaning up all those broken pieces it had left her in. “I’ve no desire for you to be a puppet or figurehead,” he murmured, finally releasing her from the sensual stroking of his thumb on her lips. “I would have you stand beside me as an equal, presenting a united throne for our empire.” There was no denying that the young vampyre needed grooming, but that was simply a matter of proper leverage. She was a marvelous student when she desired to be. “Those documents I wish to have you sign are merely a placeholder until such a time when we can host a public wedding,” Rafael continued, gesturing toward the parchment with an errant flip of the wrist. “The Tethering may have satisfied our people, and your acceptance in Terrenus satisfied me and Umbral law, but I would like something grander in scale—more festive—for the citizens. Few things lift the spirit like a royal wedding.” But that would be costly, and while that was of no consequence to the elder, it was a matter of public opinion. How could they justify such exorbitant spending with so much of the island in disrepair? Half-turning, Rafael prodded at the page of thieves with a glassy nail. “This must be our top priority. The sooner these cretins are brought to justice, the better. Not only will it help shed some of the negative light that’s been cast on the throne, but reinitiating these projects will go a long way toward mending the trust between our regime and the people.” Blue eyes glanced toward the scribe, still busily penning their words. “I will continue to supply income for palace staff in the meantime, and also look into shifting Umbral assets into place to better equip Orisian-based military branches. I’ll draft a preliminary outline, but I believe we should convene with Marcellus for these particular matters before we decide to sign anything into law. Perhaps, even—” Roen, the elder wanted to say, but as he looked down at the sad, pitiful expression gazing back at him—full, pouty lips; sullen eyes; despair writ along her pale cheeks and handsome brow—he thought better of it. “No, we won’t involve any Umbral officers just yet,” he lied, pressing his lips into a fine line at the fact. Rafael had become forever responsible for that which he had tamed. “From my understanding, Marcellus has been gathering a comprehensive layout of the military’s strengths and weaknesses. That should do nicely.” Now, they reached the final issue of their docket. “I’ve noticed that the citizens of Orisia don’t pay taxes to the throne. I think I understand why you would do something like that, but as you can see it is not a feasible means of governing. The people should not need to rely on the crown’s independent wealth for civil services, whether it’s welfare programs or military protection. Their money should purchase it to ensure it exists.” Stroking his chin, Rafael studied his wife, searching her expression for something other than melancholy. “I want to implement a rudimentary tax system based on Umbral format, which will be adjusted to fit Orisian standards. I’ve had Orisian and Umbral economists working on that this past week, though, their final proposal will need both our signatures.” Rafael was doing his best to incorporate both her and, to an extent, her callous lover. But if both remained unwilling participants, he would shoulder this mantle alone, as he’d done so many times in the past.
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