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About Jotnotes

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    This shit is outdated af

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    Jot Notes #6666

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  1. You goons probably thought I forgot about this, didn't you? My goal for this upcoming week is to get this thing finished and published, whether all the included races are listed or not. Stay tuned.
  2. Somehow, it's been a full week with not other posts. I do blame myself mostly for the way I ended my last post. It did not give many of you anything to work with really. Before I head to bed, I will be advancing the plot forward, probably off the road and into the woods. From there we will once again resume the 7 day posting deadline.
  3. Understandable. Are you on your phone, then?
  4. Friendly (and not at all passive aggressive) reminder to follow the primary thread, folks, so that you get notifications whenever a new post has been made! You're not going to get too many @'s telling you who or when somebody has posted, and if you're eager to see where this thread goes it's definitely worth being able to see when a new post goes up.
  5. Why that profile picture?

    Because mine isn't a girl, it's a guy. And it's not a guy, it's a zombie.
  6. Gospel of the Saint Queen (Hidden Valley)

    For a beast of its size, The Valley King was more than adept at maneuvering now that it'd backed off. Once it'd broken line of sight, and managed to eke its way into the shelter of the trees once again, it had elected not to stray too far, lest the prey attempt to move too far away. After all, coward or not, it was still King of these lands, the prideful lion whose bellowing roar and rasping chuckles bespoke of its might. It may have been cautious, it may have been frightened more than once, but at the end of the day this was still its home, and these deer were still its prey. Such was the law of nature; those that have the will to fight and kill will do so, and those without end up dead. So far, the Valley King had managed to evade death twice at the hands of these two-legged beasts. They didn't have the will to slay it, nor the means now, it was certain of it, which meant it would poke and prod and bite until it found a way to come out on top. The valley's apex predator, once again, hadn't gone very far away; its lair was close to the sides of the valley, though not in a cave or burrow as some might have assumed, but rather in a well-kept and fairly obvious nest of various materials. There it rested, rolling around in the twigs and leaves in order to dry off. The mist had matted down the plastered fur into mud into a few places; the beast had some idea it was there, in part to the lack of sensitivity those hairs possessed now. They were wet and matted, and the wind didn't disturb them as it moved around. Beyond that, it dried quickly, and quickly resumed the hunt, making a sharp turn and striding back towards the prey's last known site. The journey back took slightly longer than the trip to its nest had been, due to some minor complications. On the way back, the Valley King passed by a flock of birds settled down overhead, but the King quickly flinched away in surprise when they unexpectedly took flight all at once and flew off. The recoil on the beast's part was genuine shock, a typical reaction to an unnatural event; it didn't have the words to explain it properly, but it knew something was wrong. With part of its fur matted down and muddied, a small part of the beast was quite visible in the slowly fading sunlight. It could be seen. Despite this, the Valley King surged onward, creeping at a much slower pace now that its evident advantage was not entirely as effective as it was used to. Slower movements, especially those in the shade of the foliage, would at least mask its presence to some extent. At a slow rate, it managed to make its way to where it'd last seen the deer. Nothing awaited it. The place was empty of signs of life. The King waited not, and began stepping through the clearing with an impatient gait, ravenous eyes searching for tracks, or scents, or even markings on the stone and riverbed to try and determine where they'd gone, and yet somehow the prey was missing. It was as if they'd never been there, and that made them terribly difficult to track. It snorted in frustration, stamping its limbs in annoyance before strutting back away from the clearing. Breaching the treeline once more, the winds shifted around the beast, carrying the scents of the wood towards it. Yet it was not these new smells that forced it to pause, but rather the sound of a large, cacophonous sound that bellowed through the valley. It was enough to force the Valley King to pause, the gentle breeze billowing through its whisker as it slowly gathered the scents afloat on the wind. A new, yet familiar scent was carried forth. It smelled of wounded game, yet it did not recognize the metallic tang to the scent, nor was it capable of knowing how injured the prey was. Despite this, it was not only enough to catch the beast's curiosity, but it was also enough to cause the beast's focus to shift. The deer could wait, while it tracked this odd, injured morsel. The scent was quite close by, it was sure of it. Shifting and shuffling around, the Valley King followed the scent back into the clearing, where the wind blew a bit more bold. From there, it traced the smell around the clearing, beyond the riverbed, atop the falls. Curiosity killed the cat (er....chimera?) and the King approached the falls. What awaited it above the valley it called home? With great strain, the beast began to heave itself up the rock face; unseen padded limbs pressed into the cracks between rocks with ease, dragging the body up with minimal resistance, once step at a time. It wasn't quite small enough to avoid being drenched by the falls, but it persevered, and once the Valley King had made it to the top, there was silence. Without any means of looking at itself, it quickly curled up into a ball and rolled upon the plateau briefly, drying itself for the most part before regaining its composure. Then, it was back on the hunt, trekking across the valleyside in pursuit of the smell that lured it forward. Step by step, it made its way along, tracking and sniffing along, body quite close to the ground. The sun had set not long ago, and it made its movements by the light of the moon, where the matted fur of the animal was hardest to see once more. It drew closer and closer, creeping not that far from the edge of the valley, trying to identify its prey. Time passed, miles were crossed, and that's when it saw what it wasn't looking for. There they were, silent and watchful on the cliff before it. More of those two-legged deer, many of them tall and strong-looking, quite unlike the herd it'd spotted before. More curious was how they waited in silence for...something? Were they grazing, or merely asleep? The Valley King was curious, but it was also hungry. Which one of them was bleeding? It lurched forward in near silence, observing them for seconds, minutes at a time, noticing with increasing annoyance that they moved very little, sounded off very little. If they were sleeping, why were they upright? What was this formation? Some sort of defense tactic? It was tempted to simply charge the herd, to send them scattering while it tried to pick off the weakest prey, but the dull reminder of the deer from before stayed its advance. If they were all like the others it had met, charging them wouldn't work. Like trying to charge another predator, if they had a chance to react it would certainly fight back in some way, and the deer were closer to being competitors than they were mere prey, to the Valley King. Rushing such a large group had the potential to be disastrous. It watched, and it waited, trying to scry from them what it could. The blood in the air was tangible here now; the source was close by and the wind had slowed. It needed to act before something else happened to the wounded party. Where the Valley King rested, there was little it could do to attempt to harass them from a distance. There were no trees or logs or stone immediately available for it to hurl at the unmoving deer, save for the stones nearest to the deer. This detail suddenly settled upon the beast, who took another glance at the rocks. They were all lined up, just as the deer were. Not a simple matter of stones coming to rest there, from the looks of things, either. They'd moved the stones there, and the beast was beginning to understand why. Just as before the deer had set the woods on fire, and just as they'd used the waters of the river to try and track the beast, these stones were meant to obstruct or harm something in some way. The two-legged deer were hunting. The smell of blood was too close for its liking, and it could not hope to find something else to devour at this time. It had to make a decision, and it needed to make one quite quickly. That is precisely why the beast acted as it did next. It reared back, waved its forelimbs in the sky as if attempting some obscure mating dance for a possible mate, and gave a horrific predatory cackle. The sound, like rupturing wood and splintering bones, crackled through the empty night air, a haunting, taunting sound. A challenge. It continued to wiggle and thrash, belting out these broken, thunderous noises in its attempt to provoke the two-legged deer. There was only room for one Valley King. The two legged deer would understand their place in the food chain, or they would be slain.
  7. The factions are coming OOC

    I gotchu babe.
  8. The factions are coming OOC

    Well, it's definitely a step up from saying "Huh, nothing happened." I'm loving the thread! :D
  9. The factions are coming OOC

    I have to wonder where that twist came from. Lemme ask; did you predict that I'd decapitate the kid's body, or was that just like a DM-improv kind of bit?
  10. For a mere graverobber, Kian was quite proud of himself following what came next. Specifically, he wasn't proud of the horrific consequences of his actions, but rather, he was more proud of his response, which was, of course, to keep his mouth shut, and not scream like a child. That wasn't to say Kian was totally unfazed, however. Before it even began speaking, when the skull first screamed in agony, or possibly fury, the graverobber backed off rapidly, clutching at his shovel, then his daggers, as if he planned on charging the head. Of course, he was a grave robber, and not a professional warrior, so any attempts at bravery fell to the wayside as he continued to back off. The tunnels were behind him, he could flee into the dark before anything else happened, and he just might have, if the skull--or skulls, rather-- began to speak. That voice certainly didn't match the childish cry from before. Though Kian's ears refused to perk up, flattened against his head as they were, it was obvious that they weren't precisely hearing whatever the monster was, but something or someone else entirely. Kian didn't move from his place near the door, behind the knight Tyrell and their newfound guide. His hands were still on his daggers, though by now he doubted that if he found the nerve to throw them they would have any effect. The stillness of the chamber was gone, replaced by the soft rattling of those skulls. Not the same eerie voice of the disembodied woman, but this ancient grinding, like old tools sliding together unwashed, as their jaws attempted to move. Even this sound was quickly replaced by the vulgar, invasive sensation of something talking in Kian's head. He let his grip drop from his daggers to the sides of his head, clutching at his temples in an attempt to stifle the voices. The first of the noises was silenced at that utterance, and though the voices were still lingering within his brain, Kian could hear them uttering soft words of urgency in his mind even still. His ears eventually perked up, and he lowered his hands to his sides, though they were still balled into fists. The skull continued to talk, merrily spouting off as if it were in total control of the situation, which for all Kian could tell it very well might have had. Next to him, he couldn't quite read how anyone else was responding to this...entity. Were they fearful? Anxious? He didn't dare turn away to look and see for himself. This was a question for Brand, or perhaps Tyrell to answer, and yet neither of them moved to speak, either from fear or some other motive. It dawned on the grave robber that he might have to speak to this...head. Well, he was the one who decapitated it in the first place; perhaps it was on him to figure the rest of this puzzle out. "Wait, wait." He lifted a hand in objection. "I may not do a lot of conversing with dead people--or any, for that matter, but I figure that you at least owe us--owe me-- an answer first." But what to ask? Kian was not a native to this land, nor was he familiar with the land's rich history, or even what sort of magic was afoot here. What he did know was that apparently the skull was at least aware of when it was put upon the pedestal, and perhaps it possessed some other, fairly recent memories. "You mentioned the...uh...you called them 'faux-children?' You realize that you're talking through one of their heads. How is that possible?" Based on her spiel, it seemed as though there was a difference between whatever the thing they'd killed was, and whoever they were talking to. Kian wasn't much for theorizing, but he was willing to begin putting together some kind of pseudo explanation, if she didn't feel like cooperating fully.
  11. Beyond all Mortal Ken (Forgotten Woods)

    Filomena fluttered just out of reach when her downed human reached for her, but it was mostly reflexive. As fragile as they were, Pixies tended to avoid being grabbed or touched when they could, and Filo believed herself to be no different, though she doubted he'd actually try and her her. Her gossamer wings beat together rapidly as she fluttered before him. She was still eager to take in his everything, relishing the chance to be so close to a human. Filomena had a dangerous habit of 'collecting' humans, more or less finding whatever specimens she could find and 'adopting' them. Multiple times in the past, Filo could recall quickly befriending a human and lingering around them for days, growing increasingly reluctant to leave their side when it was time for them to part ways. In her own way, Lia was there to keep that from happening, they both understood. Randomly following someone around was a recipe for disaster, and if Filo's new 'friend' turned out to be quite unsavory, it could spell trouble for the xenophile pixie. That was hopefully not the case here, however, as it seemed as though they were slowly forming into some kind of party. Filomena glanced over at her partner, the sylph, who finally put away her zweihander and stood up tall. Lia had heard his thanks, but chose not to acknowledge it, keeping her eyes on the machine she'd knocked down for a little while longer before glancing away. Sure enough, a full troupe of all sorts were coming together now, though the Sylph had no real idea from whence they all came. Moreover, she didn't know any of them at all; it was quite unsafe to simply trot off into the woods with a group of strangers, and between the two of them Lia sincerely doubted that the fae would be able to fight each and every one of them off. Instead of focusing on that, however, she simply raised a hand, a call for silence and attention. "It seems, then, that we're all here for something of the same purpose. It would make sense that we all work together, then." She nodded to her pixie friend. "Why are we here, Filo?" "Ooh! I know this one!" She fluttered away from her human in a heartbeat, waggling her arms excitably. "Okay, okay, so get this. We were in town, eating lunch in this bar, right? Who eats lunch in a bar, though? Who even goes in a bar, am I right? I swear, it's the strangest thing, but at the same time--" The pixie wandered off topic so quickly it was astonishing anyone had kept track with what she'd said up until that point. Lia didn't mind all that much, of course, and positioned herself against a nearby tree while her friend talked her head off. From her space against the tree, she could comfortably see the whole party, and could even watch with a certain mischievous glee which ones would quickly become unnerved by the pixie's vapid conversation. "--and this one time in a bar, I got into the bathroom and I couldn't get the door open for an hour! I was stuck flying around, checking things out, and there was this weird hole in the wall and I think it led into another bathroom and--" "Filo." Lia called, almost sorry to end her tirade too soon. "We don't have enough daylight to spend it talking. Why are we going in the woods?" "Oh." Filo shrugged. "I forget."
  12. I am starting to recover, which is a blessing in of itself. Post will be up today, probably after work (which is from 4-9 Mountain Standard Time), so stay tuned for that. Love y'all.
  13. I'll be trying to get a post up sometime tomorrow, lads and lassies. I went for teeth extractions yesterday and am currently laid up in bed recovering. Hopefully I'm in a better position by tomorrow!
  14. More Important is the Journey

    Wrapped in her mattress, the runesmith had limited knowledge of what was about to happen around her. The ship was falling, falling, falling. She knew that much, at the very least. As it plummeted from the sky, she could feel it in her gut, as if she were free falling. Although she wasn't lifted up in the air (they weren't falling that fast), she could feel the churning butterflies in her stomach, and she could hear, quite plainly, her brain screaming about her death once again. It was almost annoying, how accurate it sounded. Somewhere close by, Jack was bracing himself, though she couldn't see him, and once again she reflected on how they'd gotten to this point. He'd done this to them, after all. Now, the ultimate test; did they die thanks to his own machinations? Priscilla felt, rather then saw or heard, when the Gehenna collided with the mountain. Going equal parts sideways and downwards, the nose of the balloon pitched into it first, and it crumpled fast. That wasn't the part Priscilla felt. What she did feel was when the rest of the ship, when steel panels and iron and wood slammed into the snow-covered mountainside moments after. Though the balloon had slowed her descent, the Gehenna was still a heavy ship, and she came down hard, as she should have. The entire vessel shuddered with the impact, and a loud, broken groan echoed down the halls, as if they were hearing the last, unhappy wail of a dying beast. It sent shivers down the woman's spine, and though the mattress soaked up most of the impact, there was no way to truly soak up the shock and awe of such a crash, subtle sounds and shakes included. She'd had her eyes closed before, and they were clenched tighter now. Priscilla sat with bated breath, waiting for the rest of the crash. Gehenna was mostly silent for a spell, and while Prisclla didn't understand why, opening her eyes didn't provide any new information either. The cabin was still a mess, only now... The observation was cut short when the Gehenna slammed back into the mountain, and Priscilla screamed in surprise. The jolt didn't harm her much, but her heart was set racing once more, and the runesmith could barely keep herself together as she clenched her eyes shut once more, and refused to open them. Metal screeched, iron sheets sighed in agony, and the world rang as if a great bell had been tolled. After an eternity, Priscilla opened her eyes. Next to her, Jack was looking down into the porthole from earlier, and Priscilla felt her dread mounting once more at the mere sight of that. They were sideways, now. Where had they landed, where he was looking down into...what, exactly? She couldn't see from here, but the fact that it was not grass springing through the hole, or snow, or something, meant that there was an empty space of some degree under them. They were dangling. Like worms on a hook. Or a glass on the edge of a table. Freed from her comfortable prison of lies and ignorance, the runesmith was eventually exposed to the truth below them, and her knees nearly buckled. After all of their efforts, all of her efforts to remain calm and cool, they had one last test before them. Priscilla hadn't expected to leap off the Gehenna, no matter how desperate she'd felt earlier. It was a last ditch effort, and she was certain she'd have changed her mind on the way down. Now, while it wasn't a massive drop, it was a drop. Priscilla needed to leap out of this crashed ship, into the snowy mountainside, before this infernal airship crushed her. Next to her, Jack explained that they needed to jump, once again, and Priscilla flinched at the prospect. Jack must have noticed, because he took her hand. At the very least, he wasn't blind to her concerns. Without giving him a chance to say it for her, Priscilla leapt forward. It was a spur of the moment action, and Priscilla would look back on this and note that it was absolutely necessary for it to be that way. By putting a time on it, she could stall, and back off. It didn't make it easier, it made it frightening; it made it a deadline that needed to be met, and each time it wasn't met her hysteria could only have grown. Instead, she'd jumped before being told to, and ended up dragging Jack along by the arm. It was unexpected, it was terrifying, and in the blink of an eye, it was done. The duo tumbled from the ship, and plummeted into the snow. They came down hard, the snow rushing up to meet them, and in those last few moments Priscilla's heart pounded in her ears before fading away entirely, in perfect sync with her vision, which faded to black as the white powder drew close. They hit the ground safely enough, but Priscilla wasn't awake to register this. She simply passed out, mid-fall.