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Valucre

Csl

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About Csl

  • Rank
    Aficionado
  • Birthday July 3

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Female
  • Location
    Pearl of the Orient Seas
  • Interests
    Science (both natural and social), respectful discussions about world-views and belief systems, speculative fiction, people from different walks of life, art, journalism
  • Occupation
    Distressed student

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  1. Go ahead! I'll wait for you to post before I do
  2. By all means, feel free to try 😄
  3. uhh, not sure. Supernal's probably the one to ask. Or are you asking if you want to fight Cassandra/Novaculi using the MOBS system? Thank you!! (Hopefully, nobody, then I can get away with keeping it for a bit as a mode of transport for Cassandra. Lol.)
  4. I have a character named Cassandra who can make monsters. She has recently made her first one at the Gaian Academy, and is probably going to destroy a bit of the island before she escapes. If you're interested in trying to stop a monster from tearing up an island or a student from escaping, feel free to drop in! I'll try to make this thread quick so this may end really fast, but there's no harm in trying and I found it fun designing Novaculi. Cassandra will be a part of the Legion of Doom so this will just be a short thread to test how she works and so I can have practice writing her before she joins them in their quest for world domination. Note: If you intend on joining Gestalt please stick to Mild Powers 🙂 Also if you like monster-making and have thoughts/suggestions on Novaculi, please do share them!
  5. Csl

    Gestalt

    V Cassandra fell to her knees, watching the stone crumble around her, debris raining down with the raindrops. Wing and fin and storm and water - steeped with once-living corpses – whip and skeleton and shards of shattered ivory stone. A broken beacon, brittle branches, a betrayal. These were the things, the pieces of the puzzle, the building blocks. She closed her eyes, weaving the concepts together – to thrash, to fly, to whirl, to rise. Ideas. It was almost easy threading these needles, sewing together this patchwork, this quilt, this creature. Her tears mixed with the rain as she laughed. Her creation rose around her, collecting its bones of stone, its wings and spine self-contained storms. Its body was fifteen feet of debris suspended midair, swirling violently with its every movement - Madrias’ bones and ivory stone shards for its spine and wire and basilisk tails, interwoven with holy water from the catacombs flowing as an amorphous vein system, ready to scrape and wear away at anything it encountered (the boy had been eaten down to bone already, flesh scraped completely away) Its two fins were water and finer particulate matter, white dust and feather and pine needles trailing behind its serpentine body. Its head was the peak of the obelisk – faceless, a crude pyramid that approximated a muzzle. It was a hurricane pelting raindrops like bullets, it was a wave wearing away at a cliffside for centuries and carving away solid rock, it was whips of water and sandstorms scraping flesh from bone and daggers of hail, yet it was also the quickness of basilisks, of leviathans tearing through the depths, acid venom and stingray tails. “You need a name,” Cassandra said. The creature was frozen in air inches her, all fifteen feet of its body, silent, unmoving. With a violent whirling of the debris within its neck, it craned its head, the point of the pyramid meeting her gaze. The guards were running towards her now, weapons drawn. “Novaculi” Cassandra decided. She pointed at the guards. With the scream of dozen winds, Novaculi dove towards the humans. Cassandra closed her eyes at the screams, as dust flayed skin and stone battered bone, as her creation swept through the bodies with the ferocity of a friend betrayed. When she opened her eyes, Novaculi had stopped again. Three more skulls had joined the one at its spine. A collection of bone shards had mixed with the debris within the monster, and here and there the water had turned red. Scavenging. Like the frigatebirds. Here, in the dark of this rainstorm, at the foot of a broken obelisk, soaking wet, the world suddenly seemed real. Exhilarating. Tangible. Alive. The girl let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She inhaled, savoring the coolness of oxygen, the smell of petrichor mixed with something metallic. “I could go now... you could carry me...” she said thoughtfully. Novaculi tilted its head quizzically. “Or... we could see how large you can grow. And if you’ll attract any real ones.” With some difficulty, Cassandra clambered atop the creature’s head. With a weary grin, she pointed west. “Onward, noble steed.” Novaculite tore forward, weaving through the forest, reducing trees to sawdust. All are welcome to enter this thread and attempt to defeat Novaculi. Please stick to Mild Powers. No guarantees on killing this creature, but each Gestate has its own strengths and weaknesses. Novaculi's sheet will be updated as its weaknesses or characteristics are discovered through roleplay. I'll be posting every two days, if I can, regardless if any players join or not, and Cassandra will be making her escape. Have fun!
  6. Csl

    Gestalt

    IV The walk towards the catacombs was a long one. Halfway through, Cassandra started speaking. “I’m sorry for... being distant,” she said quietly. “I needed to do this.” “What exactly is... this?” Madrias asked, staring at the cart that clattered as she pulled it behind her. “I need to leave this island.” For what was perhaps the tenth time that night, he felt his heart drop. “I- why?” Cassandra continued walking. After a while, she shook her head. “I... I see everything now. How nothing is real. How everything is empty. This place is stagnating and I need to bring change. I need to leave... but leave something behind as well.” Madrias struggled to process her words. “I don’t understand.” “It’ll make sense when we get there.” For now, he could only trust her. For now, he could only follow, worry gnawing at his chest. There were a few guards at the catacombs huddled underneath a quickly-constructed tent, playing cards. Madrias waved as they passed by, but aside from a few curious glances, the men paid them no heed. Cassandra dropped the cart’s handle as they got to the base of the obelisk. Silently, she started opening baskets and untying sacks, letting their contents spill to the ground. Madrias yelped as a basilisk tail came flopping out, followed by a dozen others. Fish, still alive, gasping for air in synchronization. Dead frigatebirds. Softly glowing everlumen branches. “Cas- what in Gaia’s name are these for?” He looked up, but she was already walking away, stringing something along the ground in a straight line. Anxiety took hold of him, and Madrias hurried over. “Cas!” She looked up as another flash of lightning lit the area. Her eyes were so, so white. Her eyes- though raindrops dripped down her face, somehow, Madrias knew she was crying. She took his hand, pulling him towards the base of the obelisk. For a moment, she simply held it, her breath coming out in sobs. Madrias looked down. Through the haze of rain, Madrias saw the things Cassandra had thrown on the ground were slipping away – perhaps swept away by the downpour, perhaps by something else – moving to coagulate in a loosely-defined line pointing away from the obelisk. Another flash of lightning painted the world white. Madrias turned his gaze to the girl standing before him, a sense of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. Thunder crashed above them. The rain continued pouring down. Carefully, Cassandra placed her hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispered even as the not-yet-dead things behind her started to coagulate, rising from the ground – a tail, a whip, a spine – chilly water from the catacombs rising up to sew themselves into tendons and ligaments. As a tongue of lightning lanced down, she slammed his head against the obelisk. The crack of his skull sang with the skies above, the flash of lightning, and the shattering of the white stone.
  7. Csl

    Gestalt

    III A knock at his door woke him from his uneasy sleep, the sound sharp against the roar of the rainstorm. Rubbing his eyes, Madrias pulled on some clothes, cursing whatever fool had dared rouse him at such an ungodly hour. He opened the door. Cassandra stood outside, barefoot, soaked to the bone. For a moment, he stood, speechless. Behind her was a crude wooden cart, a cluster of sacks and baskets haphazardly piled on it. Suddenly, she was hugging him, her grip so tight she seemed to be hanging on for dear life. Hesitantly, Madrias put his arms around her. She was shaking. Fighting down the torrent of questions that rose in her throat, he swallowed before speaking. “What’s wrong?” Cassandra pulled back. Her hand found the handle of the cart again, squeezing it so tight her knuckles turned white. “I need you to go with me to the obelisk.” “I-” he blinked. Why? “It’s not my shift yet. It’s- there’s a storm, Cas! It’s late. You better get in before you catch co-” “Please.” He paused. Suddenly, he realized she was no longer wearing the shawl. Her eyes... A flash of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating the girl. Cassandra’s eyes were white – purely, completely white. “I- I’ll explain everything. Please. You need to go with me.” Every word seemed to be dragged out her throat. Madrias had never heard her plead like this before. Wordlessly, he nodded.
  8. Csl

    Gestalt

    a. coordinate “You want me to get what?” the fisherman said, brows furrowing. “An entire aquatic blot. At least three, preferably,” the girl said. “I-” his protest was cut short when she pressed a handful of coin into his hand. Gold glimmered in the dim light of the everlumens, gold even as the moonlight rippled silver on the dark waves. “You’ll find a way.” And so, indeed, he did. Three dripping wet baskets arrived behind her residence hall, enchanted with a freezing spell that kept the fish alive. Barely. b. thrash “Water basilisks.” the Ranger repeated. He eyed her up and down, suspicious. “Ten. Dead,” she said. The burly man scratched his beard, hefting his harpoon. Cassandra dug into her pocket and produced a fistful of coins. “Half now, half when you deliver.” The man didn’t look convinced. Cassandra let out a barely-audible sigh. “You can keep the heads for bragging rights.” Shrugging, the Ranger pocketed the coins. “Give me three days.” The basilisks joined the fish in the baskets. c. steal Frigatebirds. Annoying little creatures. Thieves, scavengers, anything shiny (sharp things) finding their way into their nests. Another Ranger bribed, a sack of the still-living creatures, wings tied together, stored away in the heavy cart behind her room. d. glow It was easier to collect dead everlumens – a simple notice posted on an announcement board with the promise of payment earned her enough to fill a small airship. She did the chopping herself, painstakingly separating bough from trunk, until there were stacks upon stacks of the stringy, needle-y branches. Cassandra put them with the blots, then later purchased a cart enchanted to hold ten times its capacity. Her purse was quickly growing lighter. She wouldn’t need it anymore, not after this. e. flutter Paper planes and paper birds – a hundred of them. It took half a day to fold all them and string them together in a chain of paper using delicate wires from... Hell’s Gate? Tazarek? The actual location eluded her. Names were of no importance, not at this stage. Not unless one cared to nitpick, but Cassandra knew there was far sloppier legend-crafting out there. In the cart they went, along with everything else. There was a strange calm coming over her, through all the hours of trudging across the island bargaining and weaving together the parts of her escape. Her hands bled. Her hands bled? Her hands bled. The wires, maybe? Cassandra wiped them on her dress, then stood, wrapping the shawl tighter around her head. One more component. It would be over soon. She wouldn’t be alone anymore.
  9. Csl

    Gestalt

    II Cassandra was losing her mind. She was quite sure of it this time; it wasn’t like those nights when she’d wake from a nightmare, the images still fresh in her mind’s eye. The paranoia of that usually faded after a few hours, and a decent sleeping potion would drive the shadows away for a week. No, this was different. Surely, she was losing her mind, when she saw every object as it sprung into reality, when the world did not exist beyond what she saw and tasted and experienced. Surely her mind was fraying at the seams when pavement stretched only beneath her feet, when the sky bloomed only when she looked up, when the voices of the crowd entered her perception only when she acknowledged that the shadows around her were, indeed, people. Surely, there was something deeply, terribly wrong with her when every thought scraped her brain raw, when the mere act of forgetting wiped placed from existence, when she let her mind wander, reality fell apart and she was trapped in the only certainty – the space inside her head. It was all she could do to keep her hands at her sides and not over her eyes, over her ears, blocking out the bright, empty void that was Everything. The shawl of existence’s illusion had been ripped away and the skeleton of the world was terrifyingly, painfully bare. The world was sterile and unchanging, and Cassandra stood in the driest of places that could be, this academy where nothing was learned except little progression what the ͡Ŧ̵͘ค̷͘͘Շ̷̴ย̧̡๓̡͡ ̶͘ร̢́ς̵̛г̷͘เ̀͞ק́͘Շ̨̀๏̵̧́г̸̷̧ carved in the stone tablet of reality. Ghosts went in and out and she was the only soul, the only mind, the only being in this bareness. All others, all shadows, barely there, unexisting as soon as they left her presence. This place needed something, a beginning, a flare to call attention. A catalyst. The desire to create something, to tip the scales and paint this dull place in the garish hues of destruction, was growing. It terrified her, because these thoughts weren’t her own. Cassandra needed to leave. She needed to make- she needed to take- no. She needed to leave this desert full of faceless unpeople, needed to be with others. She needed to leave create change everything break all of this go. But how? The warp gates were broken – something about the Shawnee Glacier and the Wastelands, the man standing there said. When Cassandra made her way towards the transit stations, a crippling numbness almost brought her to her knees. Through the static nothingness that she saw and heard and felt and tasted, one image stood out. The obelisk The obelisk. Erected three years ago, the obelisk- white, pure, stabbing straight into the sky amidst the green of the wretched ocean of trees that wrapped around this accursed island. The obelisk was clarity. The obelisk was- marks the entrance to the flooded catacombs... holy water fills the graves... the obelisk. Its sides tapering, the tip triangular. That tiny pyramid. The head. The image scorched itself into her eyelids, into the back of her brain. Had been. Had always been. It’s barely been a week. Cassandra pulled herself to the present, forced herself to look around, to hear, to smell. She was standing... on a dock. Water, the lapping of waves, the blue-green glimmer of pourgrass. One step, and perhaps all of this would end. No. Her legs wouldn’t budge. With every inch of willpower, Cassandra forced her foot to move. Not a toe twitched. The shawl she’d wrapped around her head fluttered in the breeze, threatening to fly away. The obelisk was the way out. The girl let her head sag, exhaling slowly, and found that her feet could move again. It was easier once she stopped fighting it.
  10. Csl

    Gestalt

    I There was something deeply wrong with Cassandra . She’d always been a quiet one. As far as Madrias knew, he was her only close friend among the crowds of students that called the Academy home. Not that she was antisocial, no; Cassandra didn’t mind talking to people- many a visitor to the island had been met with her gentle questions, inquiries about where they’d come from, where they’d been, the nature of things. It was simply that Cassandra mostly kept to herself, nose often buried in a book, gaze often distant or fixated on some object or individual near or far. When she was with him, though, her silence lifted, and she’d regale him with stories about the realms of magic, the planes of existence, philosophical questions about reality, the universe, the cosmos. She’d tell of her theories about aquatic blots or the identity of the War Fox, the genius loci, and the systems of magic that existed across the planet. There were times when she’d seem to disappear, and he’d be unable to find her in the classes they shared. Eventually, though, she’d always pop up, ready with another story or theory about this species of dragon or that weather phenomena. Lately, she seemed to be avoiding him. She’d always been ghostlike, in a way. Wispy black hair and a pale complexion, paired with that graceful, fluid way of moving, never-faltering in her gait This had been particularly true since last week when she’d come to class wearing that shawl over her eyes. He’d asked why; she’d said her eyes hurt. He’d told her to go to the infirmary; she had, and sightings of her since then were scarce. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been moving at a fast, nervous walk, a shawl shrouding her eyes. Madrias leaned on his quarterstaff, sighing. As part of campus security, he’d been stationed near the catacombs today. Relatively boring work- nothing notable had come up since that undead uprising some years ago, but occasionally troublemakers would come this way to... well... stir up some trouble. There were three of them stationed around the entrance of the flooded depths, the obelisk rising high behind the three men. Madrias let his gaze drift, still worried about his friend. Cassandra had come from a relatively well-off family, though he knew little of them. On that topic, she spoke little of.
  11. Csl

    Cassandra Sieversal

    [ The Gestate ] Cassandra's creatures Novaculi
  12. Csl

    Cassandra Sieversal

    [ Condensed Character Sheet ] Name: Cassandra Sieversal Alias: Gestalt Race: Terran Human Ethnicity: Matreyan (East-Asian) Age: 19 Height: 5' 5" Build: slim, girlish Complexion: pale; rosy Hair: black; shoulder-length; curly Eyes: pure white, red-rimmed, tired Ability: Capable of manipulating the conceptual identities of objects and transforming matter, energy, and magic to create creatures of immense power designed to cause chaos and destruction. Notes: Currently a student of the Gaian Academy In a quest for knowledge about the true nature of reality, accidentally made contact with ђ̸̛҉єѓ̡́ ͡Ŧ̵͘ค̷͘͘Շ̷̴ย̧̡๓̡͡ ̶͘ร̢́ς̵̛г̷͘เ̀͞ק́͘Շ̨̀๏̵̧́г̸̷̧ and was met with the realization that Շ͠ђ̵є҉ Ŧ̡̡͝ค̡҉͝๒̀͘г͢͢͢เ̵͞ς̴́ ͟͠ of ђ̴є͟г̴ ͡гєค̕͢ɭ̴͜͞เ̴͜Շ̢ץ͘ ҉̷̢ฬ̧̛ค̢̀̕ร̡ ͜ฬ́͡͞๏̵ש͏̷є̵͞ภ͜ ͘͡fromเ̡๔̧є̢́คร̴̷͠ ͢͏̷คภ̸̢͜๔͠͞ ̴͟ฬ๏̴͢г͝๔҉͜ร͝͡ Suffers from hallucinations and intrusive thoughts, reportedly from the entity that granted her powers. Physically weak and little combat experience; easily overpowered in fights against skilled opponents [ Expanded Character Sheet ] (To be written)
  13. Csl

    Taen HQ

    Also, hi! I'm back. Ish. Still kinda dead because school but I'll be around.
  14. Csl

    Taen HQ

    Worldrift appear and disappear in Taen a lot, and it's a pretty frequent phenomenon. But at the moment, there are only two reliable ways from Terrenus to Taen - the portal in the Blue Hills, and the Ursa Madeum portal. Yeah gunpowder still works to some extent. I'd like to allow it to work most of the time, and we can consider the gunpowder-messing effect weaker here, but Taen's still under Terrenus and you'd probably still want to refer to this:
  15. I'M BACK!!!

    Give me a few days to sleep properly and I'll be bustling around fixing things and churning out posts again. :biggrin:

    1. supernal

      supernal

      That's awesome. Welcome back! 

    2. KittyvonCupcake

      KittyvonCupcake

      Welcome back! 

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