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Valucre

Jotnotes

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About Jotnotes

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    Full-Time Degenerate
  • Birthday 05/08/1997

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    Donkey Kong
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    Alberta, Canada
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    Gaming, Writing, Occasionally I Draw Poorly. Jojo's Bizarre Adventure is on there, somewhere.
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    This shit is outdated af

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  1. Jotnotes

    The factions are coming OOC

    End of the month should work for our thread, now. We've shifted our focus to more or less IDing the two factions occupying the space we've sort of found ourselves in. Followup threads will include more involvement with each Faction, and will determine who ultimately enters the Civil war as the major faction. The lesser faction will likely be assimilated into other factions, if not totally eradicated.
  2. I'm digging the concept, make no mistake, but I'm having a really hard time believing in the power of a lich that is four inches tall.
  3. Jotnotes

    Business is Pleasure

    She stared hard at him, vision bleary. It wasn't entirely certain whether this was from the drink swimming in her brain, steeping her cells in toxicity and violent thoughts, or if tears were beginning to stain her vision in somber tones. Who was this man before her? She thought she'd known, once. Once, she believed she had him all figured out. They were playmates, business partners of a strange sort. Tools to be used at each other's disposal, as they each saw fit. Now, he didn't feel like any of those things. She found it difficult to accept that there was truth to his words. He did love her, in his own twisted ways. Bodice, on the other hand, knew so little of love that even now she failed to call it what it was. He did care for her, whether it was in the bed, behind the desk, or anywhere else life took them. She had put her faith into his hands time and time again, in order to allow him to abuse her for their own lecherous needs. Was it so difficult to believe she could trust him the way she might trust a friend? Crippling doubt still threatened to drown out reason, and she already knew how the rest of the evening would play out. He offered her kind words, showed her affection and care. But the moment he saw the extremes she'd gone to to get this far--how low she'd truly sunk to get to where she was now, he'd be singing another tune. Bodice stepped away, feeling bile rising in her throat. Blind panic overwrote anxiety as she realized she might be about to vomit. No! This wasn't the way she was supposed to do this! She had to...had to... She managed to grasp her terror by the throat and break its neck without even finishing the thought. She had to show him, now. With a mighty sigh, she turned to the window. The curtains were drawn tight now, and the only light in the room came from her own appliances. Nobody would see this; nobody would hear this. Those damnable tendrils in her mind, that festering thing so easily forgotten; it was still there, gripping tightly to her psyche. She figured she would be able to let her guard down, let it take over for a little over a few minutes. Any longer than that, however, and she'd likely start hemorrhaging again. Hopefully, this choice encounter would not last that long. Bodice closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing. It was difficult to do; her anxiety was gnawing at her lungs, as if some other creature now lived there, supping upon her flesh and insides. She couldn't quell that as easily as she could the invasive being living in her head. She took another deep breath, forcing shovelfuls of air down inside of her and exhaling the waste as best as she could, and let her brain go slack. She used the part of her cranium that the creature had incubated from, her amygdala of course, and gently spurred it into action. Slowly, warily, it explored the expanded space it could dig into, little by little. Before long, however, she allowed it to race across the entire expanse of her brain, the shock of which forced the air from her lungs. She threatened to vomit again, and this time she couldn't keep it in. She stumbled towards the closed doors and leaned against them, expelling her foul insides all over the rich, expensive carpet. It didn't stop there, however, as not long after she vomited it felt as though something else was yearning to escape her. She retched once, twice, and then vomited again. This time, what came out was not tangible, as one might expect, but ephemeral. Bodice slowly straightened out and turned towards her lover; he wasn't that far away from her, most likely caught in the act of trying to assist her lest she choke on her own throwup. What had happened to her instead, however, was much more harmful than alcohol poisoning. Foul, writhing tentacles of a nondescript nature had escaped from behind her lips and nostrils, dangling in front of her facial features like a grotesque beard. They ranged in thickness, from a few centimeters to the largest ones being about an inch in diameter. They moved constantly, like the feelers on a feline or catfish, probing the air for words, or vibration. The headmistress had grown deathly pale, to the point of being almost grey--paler than death itself. Her mascara ran in crimson hues, and the whites of her eyes slowly dimmed as blood vessels in them popped, causing blood and bruising to overtake her vision. Her hands...they were still her hands, but they grasped and relaxed constantly, as something else worked hard to understand the depth of the body it inhabited. Bodice felt it all. Every little tick of her body as it tried to make sense of the corpse it piloted. On the inside of her own mind, forced to the far back corners of her brain like a scared fragment of herself, it almost felt as if she were being kept prisoner. In letting the mindflayer fetus take over her mind, she may have made it impossible to recover. The thought scared her more than anything, but she was still in control of her own thoughts, even as the fetus slowly rooted through them, looking for anything of significance. It was invasive, intrusive--Bodice had spent so much time in the company of deviants to know what it felt like to have your privacy invaded thoroughly, to have someone try and force themselves upon you. She'd never been...violated like that before, but this feeling now...helpless, in the corner while something else held her body captive, she imagined this was what it must have felt like. To be powerless, wordless. The thing before her now was...a vulgar metaphor for that, then. She'd given up room in the safest place she had and offered it to this...perverted creature. However, in inheriting her brain, it also inherited her body, including the liquor which her brain was well-doused in. Its movements were clumsy and its reactions slow. With a sudden push against her own boundaries, she was able to force a way through the nightmarish facade she found herself in. She punched through the corruption in her mind, tunneling through her own brain and back towards her nervous system. There, she clung tightly to her brainstem with all her might. The inky darkness encroached upon her once more, but she paid it no mind, let it fit around her contours. She was in control of this...ugly vessel once more, and before she stole it all back, she had to talk. The abomination formally known as Bodice struggled visibly as a battle raged in its head for control of the body, and eventually it shook its head to clear its thoughts. Bodice glanced towards Ishmael...or where she'd last seen him. The popped blood vessels in her eyes meant that she was blind for the time being. <<I...am sorry you have to see me in such a state.>> The blockages in her throat and nostrils made it difficult to breath, much less speak. Thankfully, with the mindflayer controlling much of her body she had some very limited form of telepathy. <<So...now you see it.>> That twisted, disjointed version of Bodice's own voice chuckled sorrowfully, deep in the confines of Ishmael's brain. <<A sorry state of affairs, no?>> <<I suppose I should explain...this. As I told you before, I was a talentless child. However, I was very good at speaking with others. I met an...how you say 'Illithid?' I was able to speak with it candidly. Eventually, I revealed my troubles to the creature, and it offered me this.>> She reached up to feel the tendrils eking from her mouth. <<Since long before you met me, my love, I've been harboring this parasite. It helps me fake my talents. It helps me seduce men. It helps me keep my position here in the school.>> She laughed bitterly, and forced the monster to look away. <<And you thought that you were the monster in this relationship.>>
  4. I see. The major reason I was so intrigued with the idea to begin with is that I've been developing lore for the site that revolves around necromancy, the undead and two particularly powerful Lich. In order to be considered an Arch-Lich you'd have to be quite strong, I imagine. What sort of origin or history does this particular character have? Is there any clues as to who he was or how he got to that kind of strength? Is this meant to be a singular battle, a final confrontation of sorts, or is there a buildup to the final fight?
  5. Jotnotes

    More Important is the Journey OOC

    Hey goons! Just a reminder that there is no official posting order. If you want to (and you definitely should) you can post right away! Now, even! Do it!
  6. "Yeah, we're on a quest to find this lady in blue!" Filo chimed. She kept her distance from the newcomer, mostly because she wasn't dumb enough to stand near poison. The pixie was an airhead, but she was still quite easily injured, and poison did not mix with fae of any kind, really. The pixie flit around Bella, admiring her from every angle. She was kind of pretty; it was a shame she was poisonous, and had elf ears. She'd make a fine human to replace the one she'd lost already! "So far, we haven't found anyone yet, save for some..." Lia considered telling her of the rodents that may or may not have been dwelling within the hole in the earth, but ultimately hid it for now. Bella had only just joined them, and overwhelming her with information may very well have pushed her away. Though they didn't know her, from all that Liiah could tell right now she was an innocent person, trapped in the worst possible place at the worst possible time. It was certainly for the best that they kept her close. She waved the blue cloth before Bella. "We found this." She finished her thought flatly, tone devoid of expression. It was her go-to voice for lying; it made her come off as standoffish and rude, instead of dishonest. She tucked it back away a second later, opting to hold onto the fabric instead of losing it by leaving it to someone else to hold on to. "There's naught else quite like it, and I'm certain it's the same color as the cloak this woman was wearing." She continued, glancing about at the trees conspiratorially. They were well enough off the beaten path, but Bella had appeared here of all places, hadn't she? Perhaps the rules of the forest were easy enough to understand. Maybe people got lost when they traveled off of 'the path', and wound up back on them again. Or, then again, perhaps not. She didn't know the rules any better than anyone else. Still, it stood to reason that surely they could find-- "Aha!" She strode past Bella brusque, providing the woman a wide berth as she approached an ordinary looking tree. Like every other tree in the woods, it was lush and green and thick, and mostly uninteresting. What wasn't ordinary about it, however, was the bent, trampled sapling sprouting from beneath the tree's trunk. Most animals in these woods shouldn't have been heavy enough to crush the stem of this plant, no matter how young it was. Someone else had trampled it. "Bella, your attention, please." She waved the woman over to the tree. When she drew near, she gestured towards the sapling. "When you get close enough to plants, do they wither at all? Moreover, did you come from this way?"
  7. Comparing your own talents to other's is never healthy. Don't worry too much about how you write, friend; just resolve to do a little better with each post you put out, and you'll be writing masterpieces in no time! Next post goes up later this evening. I'll be leaving for work very soon.
  8. Wait, so it sacrificed Immortality for Power? As in, it surrendered the ability to die, in order to grow stronger? So it gave up Immortality for power...to avoid dying?
  9. Post is up. @Bella_Donna this post is mostly a chance for you to introduce your character and meet the party some. As we do need to get the thread moving along again, I'll be working on the next post in line as soon as you finish yours. If you think that may take a while, please let me know so that I can edit the post I've made, auto your introduction and keep the ball rolling. You other, lovely folk; if you wish to post and interact you are, of course, free to do so.
  10. "Maybe she's still close by!" Filo pondered. The energetic little fae bounced around as if she rode upon hummingbird's wings, instead of her more butterfly-esque ones. Despite her rapid movements and keen eyes, however, the pixie failed to see anyone wearing a blue cloak anywhere close by. Forest stretched on forever in all directions now, the scenery painted in swathes of greens and browns and yellows, with nary a drop of blue to be seen anywhere. Even the sky itself was choked out by the leaves in this place, making it impossible to find even a snatch of azure in any direction. Though she'd been quick to take up the search, the pixie ended up being quick to disband the search as well, and eventually gave up, fluttering back down to rest on Lia's shoulder. "And?" The Sylph inquired. "Nada." The pixie shrugged. The pixie perked right back up, and glanced in the direction that she thought--no, that she was sure the voice had come from. "That way! That way!" She gave her wings a quick spur and launched herself in the direction of the sound. Filo covered ground quickly, breezing past trees and taller grass, until she spotted the woman in question who...wasn't wearing a blue cloak. If Filo had made an effort to hide her disappointment, or her confusion, it wasn't easy to see. Her face fell, and her eyebrows flew up in surprise. The petite fae flitted around the woman curiously before resting in front of her. "You're...sorry, ma'am. I thought you were somebody...wait, who are you?" She bounced from one thought to the next, mirroring her thoughts by rapidly flitting back and forth as she eyed the woman. She didn't look hurt, and she had pointed ears. Was she a local, maybe? Filomena could see this woman being one of the fae of the forest, if not for her attire. She looked more like she'd been trapped in the woods without any help, as opposed to someone who knew the area well and had a home to go back to. Not one to be left in the dust, Liiah quickly pocketed the blue cloth and tilted her head in the direction of wherever her partner had flown off in. "We'd better get a move on." She spoke up. "You two, ahead of me. I'm not losing more of you in the woods today." She allowed Gale and Hawk to take the lead in chasing after the pixie, and followed shortly behind. Leaves and dirt crunched benath their feet, making the rest of the group far louder than the pixie had been. Filo picked up on the sound of them coming over long before they arrived, and quickly flew to reassure her newfound discovery. "Hey! Hi! Sorry if I flew in and scared you, but I swear I won't hurt you, okay? We're the good guys." She beamed at her new friend. "My name is Filomena. You can call me Filo, though!" The rest of the party arrived at that point, and she flitted out of the woman's way, gesturing to them. "These are my other friends! The one with the big sword that's staring at me like I'm crazy is my best friend Liiah! You can call her 'Lia', though!" She flitted on over to her other bandmates, but by then she'd been droned out by the Sylph attempting to speak with her. Upon seeing her, Liiah was almost certain that she wasn't the person they were looking for, but it was refreshing to see somebody, at the very least. "I didn't actually expect to find somebody lost in these woods." She admitted, bearing a slight, if somewhat stiff smile. "Are you alright? Are you injured, or sick? Anything like that?"
  11. When you say 'Mega-Lich', how 'Mega' are we talking? Like, we talking Kel'thuzad levels of strength?
  12. Jotnotes

    Ruin has come to Ashville

    Post is up. @Bkfootball @AngryCacti @HollowCipher I expect the next post within three days. I don't actually care which one of you does it.
  13. Jotnotes

    Ruin has come to Ashville

    As the party rushed onward to battle, with Raegar and Malcom at the head, the world seemed to blacken, almost seemed as if everything were suffocating all at once. Sound dulled; the squishy noise of footprints in the blood and filth died to a dull slosh. The mechanical ping of that unseen, pulsating organ died almost entirely, replaced by an inaudible throbbing that was only made known by the sudden constricting and relaxing of one's vision in a steady, predictable rhythm. Ahead of the crew, Raegar's armor no longer clanked or shifted; he seemingly moved silently, great sword at the ready. The origins of this sudden suppression of the senses was unknown out loud, but if you turned inward; if you looked inside yourself in that moment and considered the weight of the situation at hand, it was much easier to understand. The circumstances of this battle, its setting and the consequences for failure, superseded all else now. This...Thing from beyond Aygis' scope of understanding trumped every danger she'd faced up to this point. Beasts and raiders were dangerous, but could be slain, even if she wasn't the one to do it. Ghosts, or...monsters, or armies had to rest eventually. This thing...it had no shape, no color, no identity. It was ludicrous to assume it would ever stop spreading its influence if it had the chance. It was easy in that moment to understand the position of cultists; it took an exceptional amount of bravery to see such horrors, and not bend your knee and surrender. To this end, Aygis was somewhat proud of her ability to stand strong in this trying times. Raegar was the first to meet the Thing in combat. Somewhat faster than Malcom--either by the man's hesitation, or some other variable--the swordsman made their presence known with a brave shout. His free arm reached into his quiver and pulled free a crucifix. Without pause he rammed it into the nearest of the small kin. It passed through the flesh easily, but from any distance it was plain to see how it rippled and ripped upon entry. It was then that a small glimmer of hope shone through; the creatures were concrete. They could be hurt. They could be slain. With a challenging roar, the swordsman thrust the crucifix into the air--the creature's weight pushed down on the spear's collapsable shaft, and the mechanism sprung. With a pathetic shriek, the creature was eviserated at the weapon's tip bloomed into a grotesque banner, using the monster's own innards as its standard. A malicious, unforgiving skull rested at the top of the banner, grinning wickedly down upon the carnage. Witnessing such an event was enough to foster hope in those who fought on Raegar's side, inspiring confidence, clarity of purpose, and an irredeemable bloodlust. The Kin were not blind to this affair and scrambled to react to the intrusion. The various shapeless beings turned away from their living cadavre and attempted to go on the offensive, leaping through the air towards this intruding force. Raegar was able to plant the crucifix in the blood and filth before repelling several of them with a single blow from his greatsword. Blood and bile rained down upon the man as the screams of these unborn abominations filled the atrium. The cadavre itself screamed in sympathetic agony as its Kin died, and it reared its formless body in response. The terrible Thing pulled itself up, and opened what might have been a maw (or an ear, or an anus, or an eye) and screamed bloody murder in the direction of the attacking party. Rearing up as it did, the beast appeared to be several times larger than the party had initially guessed; its massive form was dotted and pockmarked with bitemarks and sores, and blood and pus flowed from its everywhere. Frequently, things that might have been eyes (or tumors, or teeth, or perhaps breasts) swelled from beneath the skin, pressing against the milk, translucent surface in every direction at once. Raegar, emboldened by the crucifix, gave a madman's cackle, and struck a blow against the beast. As his weapon swung at it, it extended in length and width again just in time for his blade to connect with the creature's flex, slicing an impressive gash in its skin. However, if the Thing felt anything at all, it did not respond, and instead a trio of what appeared to be claws (or hairs, or teeth, or something) extended in response and slashed at the swordsman. He was fortunate enough to catch the blow on his blade, and was only knocked askew by the blow. He wasn't harmed...yet. The Kin themself were all over the place now. As their screams of anger and anguish filled the air, more an more hatched from the walls. Several of them were met with fireballs as Aygis, true to her word, rained fire down upon anything she could reach. Her snout was set in a grim expression, but fire danced in her eyes as she repelled the enemy. She was every bit as experienced as she claimed to be, and it showed, as her fireballs infrequently missed their marks. The battle began in earnest, and the moment it did, there was an unspoken contract, seemingly signed by everyone. There would be no running from this fight. This was to the death. "We have to get this thing restrained first!" Raegar shouted over the screaming. He gave his greatsword another swing, batting away the greater Kin as it attempted to advance. "Somebody hold this damned thing in place!" "Jet!" He shouted in shock as another one of the Kin made a lunge for him. He managed to punch it away, but only barely. "Do something, already!"
  14. A post will be going up sometime tonight, assuming I get a response from BFC first.
  15. Jotnotes

    Kaess Festival of Lights - Arcadia District

    All around her, Lapelle's newfound powers allowed her to be wholly immersed in the anger, the pity, the pain that circulated within this place. As she moved towards what she hoped was the food supply at the library's front desk, she had to pause more than once to rub her temples, as if staving off a headache. It was strenuous; like an orchestra of pain, everyone's wounds cried out in unison for relief, and those cries fell upon Lapelle ears. It was perhaps the first time that the elf understood exactly what it must have felt like to be a Goddess. To have the hopes and prayers of so many people thrust upon you, to have hundreds of people you'd never met cry for relief, a cry that only you could hear. It was part of the reason why she'd snapped at Ulcillia. She could barely hear the woman's voice over the sound of her soul weeping in anguish, and she could barely hear the woman's self pity as not too far ahead children wept bitter, confused tears as their injuries burned hot and dangerous upon their flesh, within their veins and in their souls. She stopped in her tracks, just before reaching the counter, and gripped a wall for support. If Lapelle did not learn now how to ignore or suppress this strength, she would certainly go into some kind of shock, through anxiety or stress or perhaps even sympathy. The healer needed to shed her own heart for now, else it break for these people she could not help. She started by closing her eyes, and tuning out the real world. She breathed in through her nose, and out through her mouth, strained to avoid listening to anything going on around her and clenched her eyelids tight, that spots danced in her vision. Slowly, the confused, angry sounds of people crying for relief faded to a quiet murmur, leaving Lapelle with the much louder, much more invasive emotions and sensations these people were experiencing. She could hear them, feel them, see them all through that damnable third eye the Dragon Emperor had supplied her with. It was always open, that intangible thing, and she could find no means of closing it or blinding it herself. So instead, she tried to look elsewhere, tried to feel beyond the now, towards the future. There was little for her to focus on. Her sister was too far away for her to feel the woman's presence. Lapelle wondered offhandedly if Bodice knew that her sister was thinking of her in that moment. It wasn't likely, but perhaps there was a stronger link between them than they knew. Perhaps Bodice knew, in some deep part of her psyche, that Lapelle was thinking of her, and she simply couldn't respond to it. She continued to focus on the far, far away Headmistress, pushing and pushing as hard as she could against the confines of her newfound abilities. Slowly, ever so slowly, her third eye obeyed, and turned its wistful gaze back home; not towards Umbra, and not towards her family manor outside of the city walls, but to the woman in her bed undoubtedly, resting in her bedroom wherever it might be. Being next to Bodice, no matter how hard she tried to escape it, would always feel like home. Turning her efforts towards her sister proved to be the solution she was looking for. In doing so, Lapelle was ultimately able to recover, almost completely deaf to the feelings of those around her once more. It was callous, but it was necessary. Now, Lapelle could look into getting some calories inside of her so that she could get back to work. Upon reaching the desk, she found an uninteresting-looking man passing around supplies as needed. "Excusez-moi, monsieur?" She rested her hands against the counter, meeting his gaze as she spoke. "I'm a well-educated healer, and I can join the effort quite quickly, if you could only find me something to eat first. I'm of little use without some kind of calories, I'm afraid." The man behind the counter quickly produced a loaf of bread. She noticed that he had quite a few, stuffed into a large bag. More importantly, these loaves were quite thin, and sliced down the middle, allowing them to fold out. The man produced a pair of tongues from the counter, and pulled something out of a long, steel container. Steam escaped it even now. Lapelle raised an eyebrow as he put a sausage in the bun. "Hot dogs?" He shrugged meekly. "If I left my supplies out in the street, that minotaur might have come back and taken it all with her when she was done butchering folks. Besides, we all need a little something to feel good about, right?" She laughed, and handed over a few coins. He gave her a grateful smile, but they never left the counter where he put them. Instead, he went back to rooting through supplies, setting bandages and hot-cold packs on the countertop. With her third eye elsewhere, she found it a wonder she hadn't smelled food when she first walked inside. The high-elf finished her sausage in peace, and roamed around shortly afterward, devoting her efforts to tending to the wounded wherever she could.
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