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  1. Much had changed since Feurerkönig had ventured into the land known as Terrenus. Battles had been fought, with many of them resulting in the defeat of the tyrannical lord of cinders. After finally being taken in by the Gaianists of the Terran Empire, Feurerkönig had suffered great indignities at the hands of the mortals. Days of torturous experiments followed, his enemies hell bent on discovering the secrets of his powers, and how to counter them effectively. By the time they were finished, Feurerkönig felt stripped of his pride, his dignity, his very essence of what it means to be a warrior. Such was the beginning of a low point in his life. The worst of it all was that they had released him, allowing him to live in this shame inflicted upon him. Satisfied they could defeat whatever attempt the fiery king could throw at them, they unceremoniously dumped him back into Genesaris. Never before had he felt so weak, so powerless, so much lesser than everything else. Now that he was back in his homeland, he felt so very...empty inside. It was a long trek back to the Kriegsschmeide, one that he felt a sense of defeat at every step. Even as his warriors greeted him, he didn't feel like the warlord that desired the destruction of this world. Though they did not possess the will to rebel against him, he could feel the loss of respect emanating from their spirits. Their fearless leader, reduced to a cowering mess. "Bring me new armor." He commanded, watching as his slaves went to work forging his new armor. The Gaianists stole so much from him, even his own metal shell to examine the War Metal. Great clouds of black smoke were streaming from the Kriegsschmeide, as if showing its dissatisfaction at its own champion. "To hell with you." He said, pulling himself to his throne, looking out at the charred landscape of his domain. A king without his crown, a warrior without his pride, a conqueror wallowing in defeat. It was pathetic, but it was all he had for the moment. In defeat he would lick his wounds, rethink his next move, and Marshall his forces for a new campaign, one that would allow him the power he needed to bring fury down upon his enemies. "Perhaps it is time to go hunting..."
  2. THE MADAME LINDA LINDA What was it that always led her to come back to this broken land? Was it the wrongness then? Is it seeking respite? Perhaps a cure to what ails it? She never found any reason but one thing she was always sure of was that the place calls for her. The Whispernight calls for her. This time around, Kaurilia was her destination. In her search for catching one of the famed magestorms, she had found it prudent to start with the traces of the last recorded storm. Whispernight. Her only problem is the undead dragon that plagues this land. Its breath is mostly lethal, not to mention its size and bulky strength alone can easily crush a woman such as Linda. She's not one to shy away from a fight though and not even a dragon can stop her from attaining her goal.
  3. On Far Away Shores They drifted for a while. Between space. Between time and existence itself. Within that vast expanse of nothing and everything where Great Old Ones slept for aeons and universes were birthed from the smallest and most nanoscopic events. They drifted through that void for what the mortal mind could not truly perceive, for there was no time, there was no sense of self, no sense of what was and was not. Only the inky black rift where they did not belong, and within those final moments within the primordial cauldron of creation. A bright flash of light expanded outwards and once again consumed those few either forever blessed or cursed to of gazed upon that which made and unmade the multiverse of worlds and lives that for the briefest moment was creation experiencing itself one life at a time. Light soon gave way to sound and the first to be heard would be the snap and shock of lungs filling with air. The waves of the ocean gently ebbed and flowed onto our travelers to return their slowly awaking senses back to them. Scents of salt and the warm touch of the white sands under the morning sun aided in breathing life into them. What they had experienced in Sigil, the blood and fire had almost seemed insignificant to a few of them. But for others, gazing into the abyss came second to what drove them forward in life. It came second to her. Black leather glove covered hands sluggishly gripped the white sands, the fine grains slipped between her fingers. Gradually the pain and soreness of her body flooded back to her brain and a slow groan exited her lips when the warm ocean waters pushed against her small frame. Within a few minutes she began to stand, a futile effort at first. Falling to the ground on more than one occasion, her wobbly legs found their strength and there she stood. Miss Blonde. Her eyes opened and what she saw was the fruit of her labors come to pass. Her men lay scattered across a beautiful beach. Some in worse shapes than others. What caught her eye afterwards was the Air Ship the Cardinal marooned on it’s side, damage heavy to its outer layers and more than likely unable to fly anymore. Most likely this beach and the ocean it lay partially in would be it’s final resting place. A cool tropical breeze whistled past them and the palm trees rustled with each gentle gust. It was a familiar sound, one that she had heard a million times before. With one final look forward, she was once again brought to her knees. Not because of the exhaustion that set deep into her bones. She fell due to sight of it. A mansion that had been left to rot unattended to be beaten by tropical storms months without any care or upkeep. But it wasn’t any abandoned seaside manner. It was a home. It was her home. Normally with a sharp wit and a silver tongue. Words had failed Miss Blonde. She wanted to scream, to cry, to celebrate, to weep and jump for joy. But rather a soft exhale of air left her lungs as she stared it for a short length of time. Blonde needed to compartmentalize those emotions right now. She was here to do a job, she was here to save her children from the enemies she had made in her rise to infamy in this galaxy. So her mind got to work, and the first thing was that Wynona was going to be very very pissed. Perhaps to the point of violence. Blonde knew the woman was smart enough to realize that she was probably Wynona’s only ticket back to Sigil, but after what they had just experienced you couldn’t be too safe. Therefore she armed herself with the weapon at her side. The next bit of business was triage. Evaluate who could keep going and who needed medical attention immediately. Checking her watch, they had little more than fourteen hours until the spell linking their bodies back to Valucre faded and they would either be stuck here forever or have to find another way back that could take years. But Blonde was not cruel, she would not keep pushing these people after what had just happened. Approaching a downed man from her team of operators, she filled his body with a bit of healing energy that caused him to perk up. Slowly he came around and she put a hand gently on his shoulder. ”White, it’s ok. We’re home now, but I need you to get the others on their feet. Any one who is wounded get them to the backyard and call the medical droids to examine them. Everyone else bring them up to the house and tell them they have two hours to sleep, eat, and rest. I’ll go see if the MREs and rations are still good. When you find Jack tell him to meet me inside. I’m sure he’ll be up in a few moments.” Giving the man a hug afterwards, she once again rose up and stumbled her way towards her home. There was work to be done and before they moved forward with this operation. They needed to focus on troop welfare. Two hours wasn’t a long time, but it was what they had given the circumstances they were in. They had arrived, and now the real battle would begin. @danzilla3 @The North Wind @vielle @Djinn&Juice @Trigger2Red @Turquoisie @Fierach @Thotification @notmuch_23 @SteamWarden @Metty
  4. Locations: Chateau De Choisel - Quin’s Lab, the gardens and the labyrinth. “Das ist Ira.” Quin slurred “IRA. Wenn du ihn siehst, verletze ihn nicht.” This is Ira...I-R-A, if you see him, don’t hurt him! Quin was holding up the only picture of Ira she possessed, normally hidden away in the depths of one of her drawers where she was unable to look at it, her drunken and drugged out.state allowed her to carry it with her where ever she went. She waived it in front of Otto, who sat on the ground in the gardens. He was crushing a black rose bush under his bulk as he sat there cross legged listening too her intently. She’d taken to calling herself “mommy” when she was in this state, insisting she teach her ‘baby’ his duties. This just so happened to be the day that he was slated to go wander the labyrinth and keep intruders out - all except Ira of course - which in Quin’s current mind set - she was poisitive that he was going to magically appear at any moment. His picture told her so after all. Otto just continued to breath in that raspy watery rattle he had while she lectured him. ‘Wenn es Ira ist, bring ihn zu mir, direkt zu mir.” She continued, swaying a little, “Versuche nicht, ihn zu essen, nicht einmal einen kleinen Zeh! Verstehst du mich?” If you see Ira, bring him directly to me....Don’t try to eat him, not even a little toe, do you understand me? She waited until she saw him nod and nodded too, sitting down on the ground as well as she was quite dizzy and the dust was wearing off. She felt tired, exhausted, like she needed more. But no she must sleep, and she must eat. “Gut. Sie können alle anderen töten. Mama wird ein Nickerchen machen. Du übst ein wenig in den Gärten.” Good, you can kill everyone else. Now Mommy is going to have a nap, You can practice in the gardens while I’m gone. She swaggered to her feet and stumbled into the lab where she had a cot waiting for her to sleep it off. Her head already killing her from her latest drinking bender, she grumbled a little and closed the door behind her, hoping to get some undistrubed sleep. Otto watched her for a moment, then given full permission for destruction, which he so loved, leapt up and with a roar began to parade around the gardens, smashing plants, gazebo’s and terrorizing the servants that were wandering about instead of where they belonged. Quin rigged a few cadavers to hang from the hedges for him to find as an exercise. She made sure they were really secure so it would take him some time to get them before he could eat them. A busy - creature - was a happy one after all. Soon he would be ready to wander the Labryinth, terrorizing the occupants in it and destroying the tombstones and vaults. Happily busy with his job, until then, the gardens would take a beating, as would the rest of the outside areas to the Chateau that he happened to wander into, like the courtyard. @Greenmntman @Etched in Stone @Twitterpated @Eternity @HumanBean03
  5. A small side story began by @ianthine and myself, Anyone is welcomed to pop in It had been atleast two nights since her fateful meeting with the priest. It was an uneasy feeling to the demi-gorgon having lingered so long in one place. She was used to constantly moving, --always escaping from imagined hunters she anticipated could be after her any day now. --but things were different now, --felt different now. Things had changed inside of her and thoughts of a deity that could watch over and protect her soothed her anxiousness. Still her wandering feet, scarred with miles of dirt road, had taken her to the outstretches of the farmland just at the base of the hill. Her mind and body were at odds, muscle memory compelling her down the long stretch of dirt road. --but she wasn't leaving... she just needed to stretch her legs, didn't she? It was a lie she was telling herself. A sore feeling panged in her chest. She was a coward-- Halting in her mindless walking, her grey eyes caught a speckling of blue in the lush green fields that flanked the road. She crouched near the edge, looking at the tiny cornflower colored buds. Five healthy green sepals held eye fetching blue petals aloft, --bright yellow nestled at the center of each flower like a precious jewel. Slender fingers outstretched to graze the soft foliage. It was simple things in nature that made her feel at home. The rural town she had been staying in was loud with life. People going about their days, hustling and bustling. Xildara felt out of place here, and not only for her startling appearance that overcame her at night. Daytime held some respite for the woman, luckily her features remained humanistic during the day, but there was still an odd animalistic air about her that seemed to draw attention. A soft chiming caught on the breeze drew her attention from the tiny flora. Xildara glanced down the road, intrigued by the soft tingle of metal upon metal. --what she saw made the woman blink in disbelief. Familiar bronzed features and long burgundy hair that fell in dark waves shivered memories to the forefront of Xildara's mind. "Teha...?" The name fell from her lips in a whisper. Down the road, coming towards her sauntered a figure she had seen once before in her life; when things had become their darkest. Golden eyes punctuated a stern yet stunningly beautiful face, which was supported by a strong and graceful frame. Her eyes held the same luster as the golden trinkets decorating the woman's wrists, neck, ears and bottom lip. The woman regarded Xildara with cold eyes and nodded her head in Xildara's direction politely but continued on without an ounce of recognition in her features. Xildara's eyes welled up, hurt at first, but she suddenly realized why Mateja had acted as a stranger. Mateja had never seen Xildara in her human form. --of course she wouldn't recognize her at first glance. Mateja seemed to be headed for the village of Coth, leaving Xildara with an uneasy decision. Staring back at the long lonely road and then towards Mateja's slowly shrinking form; Xildara decided this was a sign and turned to follow after the woman. She wasn't sure what she'd say to Mateja, or even if she should tell the nomadic woman the truth, but Xildara knew she had to meet her again, in some way--
  6. NARRATIVE - THE DRAGON AND ITS SHIP It was not the first undead dragon to make its way to Kaurilia nor will it be the last. The dead city perhaps has something that attracts these excessively large winged reptiles, these needlessly large winged reptiles even go so far as to make the city their humble home. What can this elegant yet necrotic scaled beast of death and destruction want with such a lifeless city? Perhaps no one can tell. However, that is not the point of this story. Going back a few hundred years, there was a ship. Not just any ship but the rumored Godhand. It was a thing of beauty but not even the most beautiful and majestic ship can be immune to the curses of Whispernight. And so, one fateful stormy night, as one such grandiose airship happen to pass upon the rumored dead city of Kaurilia when one of the rumored undead dragons seemed to have developed a fancy for such a glorious object. What can a winged reptile get from a flying airship? Not very much but that did not stop the scaly flying monstrosity from charging at the poor thing. Perhaps this was the last time the airship was seen, at least from Genisarian eyes. It plummeted down to a nearby mountainous region, one that was close to the dead city of Kaurilia. It laid there on that unknown ground, forever lost, forever forgotten. The ship is still in good shape all thanks to its incredibly durable build but with no one to pilot it, it is now just a waste of space and with that undead dragon guarding it, will it every take flight once again?
  7. On the terrace of a rather posh cafe, Yineffe passed her gaze over the displays below. Mageside City was lively, people everywhere. Academy students mostly, fresh-faced youth hustling about, carrying tomes and hawk feathers, cracked spice and crystals. She took a deep breath, shifting herself carefully. The bazaar was below, loud, lining the alley with hooting stall-keepers. The drinks were a draw. The cafe served her favorite mint flavored tea, but she was really there to watch the local painter practice. He was a fascinating creature. She had been in the city for a time and she had seen him labor over his creations like the world beyond him did not exist. Wearing an navy smock, sat at his easel, his brow crinkled in concentration. He painted beautifully exotic tradesmen and street performers. His face was clean shaven and his light-colored hair was clipped. He was middle aged, Yineffe surmised, the sweeping brush stokes of his work suggesting seasoned confidence. Artisans were highly thought of in her clan, creativity a rare and desired gift... “Handsome, don’t you agree?” Yineffe whipped her head up, catching the eye of the older woman who stood near her table. “Sorry?” “My husband,” the woman pointed, pulling out the other chair. “The painter?” Yineffe felt her face twist in embarrassment. The newcomer was dress in a tight grey pant suit. She was a much older woman, plump, with dark eyes and thin wrinkled lips. On a short leash she ushered two dogs around. Both stood on stick-thin legs and had hair gathered at each joint in odd little puffs. Yineffe frowned, clearly a vanity breed. “I’ve seen you poking around the public portion of the academy library.” The other woman spoke, sitting elegantly across from Yineffe with a pleased sigh. “You’re trying to study magic, aren’t you?" Yineffe glared over the rim of her cup and arched a brow. “Who are you?” “Leanna Bontavia, dear.” She spoke her name like Yineffe should know it. “I’m an administrator for the academy. I have been for years...” With scarre few words, a waiter delivered a white cup and saucer to their table. Bontavia took the teacup in hand and flipped her greying hair with pride. “I can get you some free training with a professor or two. If you agree to aid me.” Yineffe nearly choked on her tea. “Aid you how?” Bontavia wet her lips, thinking. “My nephew and I had an arrangement,” she explained. “I front the money for his startup company, a distillery, and he sends me 60% of the profits.” Her eyes flashed in anger. “I was receiving the money right along, until a few weeks ago. He just vanished. No one can find him.” “I have a sneaky suspicion,” she continued, “that he didn’t start a business at all and that he was sending small portions of my own money back to me instead, and pocketing the rest!” She patted one of the hounds heads at her side. “I want someone to track him down and return my money.” Yineffe paused, looking down to the bottom of her cup through her clear tea. “I do not know you. Why ask me?” “I’ve asked several people thus far, you are the first stranger. I think my nephew is paying off my friends and family in exchange for their silence on the matter.” Eyes narrowed, Yineffe considered the offer. Finding a well connected man in this city could be complicated, more so if he had any magical skill. She knew the very basic layout of the city, enough to survive, but little beyond that. Seeming to sense her hesitation, Bontavia reassured, “it shouldn’t be very difficult to find him. He stands out. Just convince him to return the money and my academy resources are at your disposal.” “Alright...” Yineffe agreed, although hesitant. “Great!” The other woman grinned. She took a pad of paper from her purse and scribbled a few notes on it. “That is his name and addressed of his supposed business." She said, handing off the note. "I suggest you start there.” Somewhat bewildered, Yineffe stood, shuffling on her coat. Bontavia stood as well and offered her hand. Yineffe tentatively shook it. “Good luck, dear...”
  8. It was a rather calm evening. The last highlights of the sun's rays slowly creeped towards the horizon, signaling that the end of yet another calm day was near. It wasn't often that Mladris was able to take on the full beauty that the Cold Mountains had to offer her and she wasn't the only one. The snow lay undisturbed for the most part, covering the trees and the ground. Deer and other local fauna were out and about. The few trails in the snow made that apparent but they did not bother the dragon. They bore her no ill will unlike other creatures, humans were her main problem but she could handle them. She had observed none in weeks, not since she flew down to the ocean and came upon a rather curious band of individuals. One was a young woman, there was something unusual about her that she couldn't quite put a talon on. Definitely magic oriented. Then again, there are still quite a few creatures/beings that she was unfamiliar with. With a rumble, the dragon shifted from stomach up onto all fours and then began to move to the mouth of her cave. The sky was streaked with orange, yellow, red, and a hint of blue as the sun's retreat began to close to an end. The moon was beginning to make a appearance and it was full this night. "Hmm...a perfect time for a flight." She said to herself as she stretched her wings, flapping them a few times to get rid of the stiffness and then with one powerful stroke, she was in the air. Thud. Thud. Thud. The downward stroke of her wings caused the trees to sway back and forth as well as shaking the snow off of them. She maintained her current altitude above the treelike, just enough room for her wings to not skim the trees.
  9. Current Status Read Before Posting Tavern of Legend OOC Thread When you're ready to leave the TOL and explore Valucre, check out these transition suggestions. Note these are suggestions and you are not limited to the options detailed there. The Tavern of Legend is a jumping off point for new members, a sort of sandbox where new members can play with other new members while getting used to the site. This is especially useful for those new to online role-playing in general. Only members registered on the site for 90 days or less can post in the ToL unless otherwise approved (such as select events or mentors). We strongly encourage participating in Tavern quests and activities as a starting point, but this isn't required and a member can leave the ToL at any time. The new member guide can assist you as you go forward. The water cooler is a good place to check out when you're ready. You don't have to read the whole thread. Given the amount of new members that get funneled into the ToL on a regular basis, members aren't expected to read dozens or hundreds of pages. You read this post to get an understanding of the tavern, the last few posts to get a handle on what other members are doing, then you're free to introduce your character in whatever fashion you deem fit. The Tavern of Legend is an RP forum that is quasi-canon; nothing here is canonized as 'world of Valucre' lore, but its internal canon is consistent. Note that the tavern also "heals itself", so things like holes in the wall and accidental fires won't affect the overall aesthetic. What you do in the ToL can be referenced later on in other RP threads within the world of Valucre. Any quests you complete for the Tavern that take place in canon lands can be canonized as well. The Tavern They say the road to the tavern was once a nondescript journey, traveling through nothingness until you happened upon a quiet little hamlet out in the middle of nowhere. Farmers would wave, children following a short distance behind, curious as to your origins and intent. Only, things have changed now. You travel through lands scarred by fires and death, through an atmosphere of despair laden with only the slightest traces of hope. Burned down buildings are as common a sight as are the rats and vultures still searching for morsels. At this time, people still bury their dead- and there is many, while others hurry to get back within the cover of what remains of their home. Eventually, your journey leads you down a dimly lit path, finding that night has come upon you faster than you first expected. You come to a location said to be the corner of all existence, the point between the world of Valucre and all other possibilities. There sits a quaint structure, small and unassuming. It is only one story, hardly more than a shack, and certainly nothing like what was promised by those claiming to have once stayed within its walls. The paint is peeling, the sign is careworn and faded. Perhaps you feel cheated, having come all this way just to find some hole in the wall that gives only a welcome home to drunks too far into their cups to notice the difference. Still, there is an inviting smell coming from inside, a welcome change from the smell of death you left behind. Perhaps you should enter then, and stay for a drink or two. Even if this tavern is not what was promised, a drink and a hot meal would do you some good. And there you find that the Tavern is all that was promised you - and more. It reaches high, higher than you could have even imagined, the ceiling reaching hundreds of feet above. Layers upon layers of rafters fill in the gaps, where some patrons sit, served by a young man who traverses them with ease. Down below, the sprawling layout reveals a tavern with more than a dozen corners (each with its own table), despite the improbability. At the center of establishment is a large stage, where bands of bards play and leave- their lineup and styles as random as anything could be. Along what could be called the back, a long bar stretches out, ending at a doorway leading to the kitchens. Also in the back are stairs leading up to an upstairs that cannot be seen from here, and a door that leads down to the storage basement. Weapons can be checked at the door or brought to the weapons counter, where the character will be relieved of their weapon and given a chip when they're ready to reclaim it Staff The staff is varied. Some are transient, coming and going within a few days, and others are permanent fixtures of the tavern's setting. Some are from the world of Valucre, and others are wanderers from further off. The only constants in this ever-shifting tapestry are the core staff members who manage the tavern itself, each serving their own special function. Attractions Recurring Wait Staff Young Attractive Barmaid: Early 20’s, Green eyes and chestnut hair, with a noticeably large bust. Her name is Gwen. Young exhausted Barmaid: Just out of her teens, always looks worn out and haggard. Smaller frame on top, but generous hips below. Her name is Beatrice. Young scrawny barmaid: New on the job, looks nervous and eager to please. Often speaks in a rehearsed manner, quite rapidly. Tiny, but looks healthy otherwise. Average looking. Her name is Clair. Young man with dark skin and bare feet: The Rafters server, as nimble and acrobatic as an ape in the jungles, he was hired for his abilities to assist those patrons with difficult logistical seating placements. His name is Tova. Man in his mid-twenties, blond, frequently scruffy. Rather friendly, a bit boisterous at times. He gets along well with anyone, and is known for flirting with the prettier customers who don’t come in with obvious attachment. His name is Fjorn (pronounced Fee-orn). Woman in her late forties, wavy, short grey hair and blue eyes. She has no patience for the workers she thinks are lazy and will be quick to click her tongue and chastise slackers. She is stocky but short, with old battle scars she says she earned from "Fighting in the pits, earning her freedom with blood." She's willing to tell a tale or two about her past fights. Her name is Wentree. [Hired recently] Younger man in his mid twenties, about 5'10 but huge build and a bald head, with nearly black skin. He speaks with a mild accent, but he is happy to repeat himself when required--but you have to make sure he knows you missed it, because he has a tendency to miss those signs, among other things. He seems to zone out a lot, and will trip over objects too. His name is Fendrel. He does not flirt, as his Husband wouldn't like it. [Hired Recently] Young man with long, red braids and grey eyes. He is perhaps 18, and quite talkative. He has his left eyebrow pierced three times and both ears filled with hoops and cuffs on his cartilage. He sometimes gets distracted by the bard, or pretty women. Wentree frequently gets on him about staying about his work. His name is Mism. [Hired Recently] Toilet Scrubber Not all the dragons fell during battle. One so-called "Tom" managed to fall inside the range of Ghallen's protective magic, sparing his life when the Dragon Cultist General decided to hit friends and foes with a blast of necrotic magic designed to drain life from others. Ghallen later found him playing "dead" as he was told to, and could see that the dragon-kin really did feel bad about the whole ordeal--those cultists, they sure can be convincing! So, Ghallen got him patched up, but not all is amended yet. The Tavern expects people to earn their keep, and that those who wish to reform their way should do so through hard labor. Vaddock set the dragon-kin to work as the official toilet-scrubber, keeping the privies clean. So far, he's been doing a pretty good job. His name is Zezzicryt, but most just call him "Z." He is 7' tall, and rather intimidating at first glance, especially for those who fought them. The veterans of the battle eye him suspiciously, but Vaddock feels like he might really mean to turn over a new leaf. Nevertheless, he still has Hand keep a close eye on him.
  10. Legacy of Requiem - The New Leaguers Prologue On this Earth, many things have happened, to the World's first Superhero, called Captain Shad, to an Arrogant Billionaire Assassin turned a Hero Bruce Morgan and to a Mighty Being called Magnus and his extraterrestrial homeworld, which was far away from Earth. One could say that this one has experienced quite enough, to the discovery of the Cosmic Twelve Beings called the Vestals and the Mad Vestal called Darkseid with his Kaethrani as an army and that other life forms exist on different planets. It would seem that Earth was no longer alone in the Universe so from that discovery, everything changed... These powered individuals would form a group called, the Destiny League. Which was once an idea to see if the world could bring powerful individuals into a team, so that they could fight the dangerous battles, that the humans never could. It was indeed a success but these Heroes did not know that they would cause other powerful beings to take an interest on the planet Earth, for Darkseid, the true enemy of Life, wanted to wipe out the entire Universe off of its life. He almost succeeded, for the half human and half vestal called Scar, the apparently chosen champion of the Vestals would stop him, which would only cause for the life in the universe to be only half wiped out. As the three long years would pass, the heroes would grief over their total failure and the ones that they have lost. But they were not without hope, because of Bruce's intellect they would discover the ability to travel through back in time, to collect the powerful Crystals, which was a device which gave the Vestals incredible power, they would collect them and come back in the present to undo what Darkseid did. But Darkseid was no fool, for he discovered the attempt to undo what he has done, because of Scar using the Crystals undoing what Darkseid did, they would then have the longest battle in history. The battle was indeed a long one and hard fought one at that, but the heroes would win, because Scar sacrificed himself and used the Crystals and kill Darkseid and unfortunately because not even Scar could use the unlimited and limitless power twice, which created the Universe, only Darkseid could have but that extracted a very heavy toll. Scar would die a noble death, his sacrifice would not be in vain, the same would go for the rest of the other fallen heroes....this was the story of Infinity Requiem but now a new one beginnings... Rules -No killing/seriously maiming other characters without player consent. -No metagaming or godmoding. -No auto-hitting; no auto-dodging, keep it real to some extent. -Please keep characters balanced, and avoid creating any Mary Sues. You can have a strong/powerful character, but they still need limits, flaws, and weaknesses. -While Players are not limited at how many characters one can have. I prefer if you have two-three characters and can play them well, instead of having five of them and are not fully fleshed out, so please keep in mind Quality over Quantity. -Please try to keep your character sheets up-to-date over the course of the game. While the Character Sheets on here are not a must, I prefer if you at least did a quick one so that I can get the feeling to see what the character is, what can it do and so on. It can be also very detailed but it doesn't need to, just tell the important stuff if you don't want to take your time. -While Superheroes are needed in this setting, I don't force you to make them be paragons of virtue and morality, but some good hero characters are needed for this story as well, so please keep the balance between Villains and Heroes, I don't want to see that there are too many Villains and no Heroes to combat them or wise versa. You can play as Hero, Anti-Hero, Villain, Anti-Villain and other affiliations. -OOC discussion will be kept civil and respectful, both in the RP and in the PM. I will not tolerate name-calling, insults, harassment, or anything else of the kind. -While it does not have to be totally PG-13, please keep it clean, no explicit content and excessive Adult themes, while your characters can swear, don't make it too excessive, keep it balanced and please keep it clean. If you want to have a romance, again doesn't need to follow the PG-13 Rule but it does not have to be explicit content like we are in a Pornographic Setting, so keep it to some extent clean and viewer friendly. -Please refrain from making OOC-only posts in the RP. -Other standard Valucre Rules. -Failure to abide by these rules can result in your removal from Legacy of Requiem - The New Leaguers. Information Now there are some things, I want to mention before we can get started. This RP tells a story, while you are free to roam around and create some side plots which can also be significant to the plot which drives this story. You can't just do whatever you want, kill my characters or something like that. You are free to roam around, but you wouldn't get to destroy planets or something on a planetary level, you must first talk with me to see if I agree with you and to see if it does fit in my story...which I can already say it won't happen, this Earth will not live another big fight which could possibly end the universe, because the world now needs to grow accustomed with the new heroes, which is you, the player so till then, there wouldn't be that kind of scale of battle, for the time being. Also, there are some races in my universe, for example, the Cosmic Beings which are the Vestals and live in a different reality called Vestalia, but sadly you won't get to play them because they are freaking powerful, you can interact with them but battling against them won't bring you anywhere because they are powerful and basically they have plot armor, and there will never be another Mad Vestal, Darkseid was the only one and now he is dead, thankfully. The Kaethrani, are energy beings with control over energy manipulation, so it means that they are killable but it is really hard to do so and they have no home planet they roam the galaxy and when they grow tired they go in their pocket dimension which is a place for them to rest. So I don't recommend doing one of them if so maybe a downgraded version of the real thing because these dudes can destroy solar systems if they want to. And they are basically viewed as evil monsters so yeah not good to get things started. There are also Devine Beings, which are practically what the Asgardians are, that's what Magnus is. The differences are that they can have wings, interact with humans, live on planet earth and do not have a shady past. I don't have anything on you doing a Devine Being character, also known: Angel, Angelic Being. But I'd like if you would talk with me first to come to an agreement and see where this might lead because there is this Homeworld called Zuerus, which is a huge planet, it's earth 15 times the size so yeah. And there is this king called Allbeing Omen who is the father of Magnus. There are also meta-humans, of course, you can play them since they are not that powerful but I do recommend to keep them balanced and not too op. There is also a bit of John Wick/Assassin's Creed references around here, but I am not looking for that, for if I would have, I wouldn't call this a Superhero RP, but if you want to play as one, let me firstly know and we'll see what we can figure out. So you have a lot of room to experiment with, create any character you want, except for the Vestals and Kaethrani, because come on, no one likes battling against powerful beings which can take supernovas any day of the week. So you are free to experiment just let me know what kind of character that is, send me the link of the character sheet, again it does not need to be overly detailed but the most important stuff must be there so I know what characters you are playing and so that the other players will know too. Also, I have my share bit of characters, so I'll be sure to do my character sheets so that you may get the idea who they are, what have they done, what can they do, personal stuff about them and so on. And if you have any questions about the Homeworld called Zuerus and anything really, ask me in the OOC Thread and I'll gladly to respond to you. Also, the story takes place in America, and some heroes may live in different cities but their DL Tower would be located in New York. If you want to sign up your characters with a link to your sheets, here it is the link where you can tag me and post them so that I may take a look at them: The Story It is the year 2040, for the past decade the world has changed, technology has evolved beyond our expectations but the Cities still remain normal, there are no over the top cities, it mainly remained the same over the years but technology has improved significantly, it surely did not stay the same after the Cataclysm which wiped out half of the Universe's life because of Darkseid, but because of his death alongside Earth's Greatest Protector Scar, everything returned to normal. At least, so it would seem because some of the heroes have fallen in battle and died and others have retired and now the people of Earth are still trying to recover after the past three years since they won the battle against Darkseid, the World was not in chaos but it was in dire need of new heroes, to protect them and save them when need be. The Fallen Leaguers are: Scar, Bambu, Voltex, and Logan. The Retired Leaguers are: Shad, Reyes, Jade, Katrina, Falcon, Mike, Vience, James and John. The Remaining Leaguers: are: Bruce, Magnus, Spider-Man, Jack, Nathan, and Doctor Mercy Earth has lost some of its protectors, be it retired or by death. But fear not, because Bruce now the leader of the Destiny League and the others would guide you the player through this story. They will be there for you and serve as a mentor figure, it was time for the New Leaguers to appear to take the place of the old ones so that they one day could rest on a grateful planet, but the real question is, are you ready to take that kind of responsibility? what are you prepared to do? will you be a Villain? Hero? something in between? one which only fights for himself? it was time to figure those questions out...
  11. To the Southwestern border they visited the City of Martial Town, had it been up for grabs or not was uncertain. However, the relatively close proximity of it being near the Glen sparked enough interest for Him of Crows to take a glance at the Cyberpunk City and evaluate it as he thought fit. While the town was a diverse one in many black marketed trades, usage of illegal technologies and not to forget the rumored Way Gate something Choisel could have gained in favor against His opposition. This city once thrived or so rumor had it. Even with it’s military they could not stop the high rates of crime, conflict or strife. Poverty and unemployment was something perhaps the Kronos could overturn, manipulate, and alter. So, His visit though to much of his preparation had been short in notice he did not travel with the entire Coven this time around as he had in Tia the Copper City, no. There would have been too many prowling eyes, lurking in the shadows. His objective required little to no attention, the streets were hot already. Yet, that did not worry the Patriarch of the Glen, it would have only thwarted His timely fashion of things. A few days had passed since their arrival. Slowly, Leinhart and Tatia infected it’s streets with Choisel vitality. Outbreaks only took twenty-four hours to change their victims no matter the race Elven, Dwarven, Orcish, and the most favorable of all the Humans. From an abandoned apartment building on the outskirts of the Core they operated attacking those off all social castes. Leinhart discriminated nobody the rich, the poor, the old, the young. However, their activities were carefully planned atleast for now taking captured hostages back to the chambers of the rundown three-story apartment building, some of which were killed there. Carcasses strewn across the suite they resided temporarily. So far, maybe twenty citizens had been turned and another fifteen were killed out of thirst from their feeding. Mind you, it had been nearly five decades since the Pureblood fed directly into the flesh of the living and he could not resist any more temptations. Drinking blood bags was sufficient, yet as an evolving lich, eating away at the souls of His victims went a lot more beneficiary. Ingesting the knowledge of His fallen foes, in which those from Martial Town provided Him the necessary information of it’s layout and surrounding areas. It was in that alone Leinhart had obtained an understanding of the land, that and what little given from the local vampyre in the region of the Glen whom also were familiar with the Cyberpunk City. It was also true that once the infection had spread even if it was only in a single victim .... the virus was contagious. In essence, all that was needed was a single person to infect another, then another, and that person infecting another ..... this was, a chain reaction. A highly effective route of maintaining a low profile with his Countess Tatia. Feasting directly from the Blood did however, put Him of Crows into a state of feral mind he could never return from. The true monstrosity of his undeath has unfold and he was back, like he never left. “My love, Tatia. Tonight we shall visit the Purple Penguin nightclub. It is a less policed area of the city, as so our informants have told. We shall mingle with the people there, lure them in of course with enchantment as we have ..... only to continue to spread our vitality amongst them as we have these streets. Dress yourself, accordingly, alluring as ever if you must my beautiful Countess.” While He was rather less elegantly dressed in these parts Leinhart still clothed himself in a scarlet tailcoat with matching slacks - he assumed the role of a successful business entrepreneur for identity. Safe to say, he played the position well. His long, wavy cascades of ash black hair fell to his hips and his eyes did not revert to their Goldenrod color - but remained icy blue behind the shade of his dark Armani tints. Standing in the doorway of the lightless living room, he glanced towards Tatia once again and delivered a tender kiss upon her forehead with thinned lips. A free hand went slapping towards her soft ass as he pulled her close taking in her immaculate beauty as if this was the last time they’d spend together. It was true, He seemed to make little time for Her yet, unintentionally. Yet this was also true, that tonight was going to be worth wild should he make it up to Her. @Eternity
  12. "You want me to go where?" "We want you to go to the Full Deck and do a full and thorough investigation of the vessel. The military sucks at its job." "So lemme get this straight. You're going to pay me to gamble and fuck whores?" "Look Richard, I'm not telling you to go gamble and fuck whores. I'm just saying, go do a thorough investigation, explore every option, leave no stone unturned. If you end up gambling and sleeping with some guys and gals in the process of your investigation, so be it." Richard's head cants to the left as he looks at the F.I.S.T. director, about an inch and half of messy dirty blonde hair flops to the side. "Look, that last job was carried out by that cat who is a peacekeeper now. I don't know what you think I'll find." Richard is met with a dismissive shrug from the director. "Nothing good comes from Last Chance. Nothing good comes from gambling or prostitutes. It isn't a question of if they are dirty, the question is how dirty. Can we clean it up with a dustpan or do we need bleach? I don't know why you're arguing with me. If you don't find anything what's the worst that happens? You got paid to have a good time." Rolling his head back, Richard leans back into his chair to stare at the ceiling fan. Reaching into the inner breast pocket of his coat, he pulls out a cigarette from a silver cigarette case and a matte black lighter. Placing one in his mouth and using the other to light it, he takes a few puffs before finally looking back at the director. "You're right. I shouldn't be bitchin' about a good time." Pocketing the lighter as he stands, he walks a few feet past the director before coming to a stop. "You bought me a ticket, yeah?" "No. Buy your own, we will reimburse you for it later after you file a claim." The director responds, while turning to face the agent. Before Richard has a chance to protest the director ushers him out of the door of the F.I.S.T. regional field office. "Stay out of trouble, Richard." Approaching the dock a few hours later, Richard negotiates the throngs of people lining up to board the Full Deck. His trek ends at the ticket booth where a handful of tin pieces and a marked silver piece are traded. "Thanks doll." The comments made in parting. The depthless apertures of his eyes dilate, causing the bleak voids to overtake the brown irises allowing him to fully ingest his surroundings. There is a bachelorette party, a few businessmen, a lot of geriatrics, and about a half dozen other people that he can't place into any specific group. The spread doesn't surprise him and is by all accounts unremarkable. But, truth be told, a good front should be indistinguishable from a legitimate business. Crossing the brow onto the main deck he immediately parts from the herd, and works his way to the aft of the vessel. Upon reaching the stern he leans into the bulwark and peers into Casper proper. The city is haloed by noon light, but just past its limits the obvious signs of a stormfront can be seen. "Well, it'll either be gorgeous sailing or a vomit storm." His own comment gets his brain firing as he suddenly realizes he's never been on a vessel before. Shit, do I get seasick? Guess there is only one way to find out. As the last passenger boards, the gangway is raised and the Full Deck's propellers begin to churn up water. Within seconds the vessel begins to push off from the docks and then turns southeast to head out into the bay. Taking just a moment to appreciate the grandeur of the casino ship, Richard eventually pushes off from the railing to head into the gambling hall. It's time to finally earn his pay.
  13. Genesaris. He never thought he would be returning to the continent again. A wild and prosperous land full of beasts and magestorms, living was a daily challenge for the denizens who called Genesaris home. Soap MacTavish had called Shrine City his place of belonging once, a land shrouded in darkness from the lack of technology and geographic location, until the crowning of the Emperor brought in necessary resources and raised the era to one of enlightenment. Although proud of Shrine Cities progress, Soap would not be returning home anytime soon. Nah. Instead the Artificer headed toward the Carmine Dominion in search of work and somewhere to call home. A funny word, home. The definition in the dictionary describes the word as somewhere a person belonged, where they can relax and feel comfortable. He exhaled, transforming it into the rough shape of laughter while his hand raked through his orange hair. "Fucking unbelievable. A place to belong. I have never found such a place before in all my years of searching, and I doubt I will find it here."
  14. The lands of Genesaris looked the same from where Zio stood aboard the ship, the Pathfinder. Its hull was made with reinforced wood and metal and it was armed to the tooth with cannons and a large sail. Atop was an unmarked flag. The skies were orange, it was dawn and Genesaris´ beautiful sun shone with a brilliant orange light, illuminating the waters and the approaching coast. The winds were fair and the sail was long, but gentle. Fortunately, the storms had avoided the Pathfinder´s course, but Zio knew that his luck would run out soon. So, as they approached the shores of Izabal, he heaved a heavy sigh of relief. His silver hair blew gently and his blue and silver armor shimmered in the dawning sun. His bow, an ornately designed Steel Bow, hung across his back, adorned with his similarly designed quiver and arrows. He made his way to the front of the ship, where the captain eagerly steered her along. His steps drew closer as he approached the similarly dressed captain. Zio: Captain, how close are we? He asked, sternly looking across the oceans of the Orisia Isles. Captain: Heh, with me at the helm, we will be there by high noon. If I may ask, what´s the rush? Zio crossed his arms and simply responded. Zio: Unfinished business and I also have to meet some old friends of mine. The captain abruptly stopped speaking and tended to the ship. Zio went back and made his way to the crow´s nest, he needed some time along to ponder his thoughts. He hadn´t been in Izabal since the era of Kayden Arghest who long since died in one of their last tragic battles. Bandits, dragons, knights, the city had been through hell, but Zio didn´t come for too much excitement, just a meeting or two and he would be sailing back to the Faraway Kingdom of Nol, or so he thought.
  15. "It's good to have you back as our Grand Master, Sir Gerald." "Do not mention it, Sir Gamesly. I only wish things could be this way under better circumstabces." A somber tone was spread amongst the camp as they traveled to the village known as Carrot Hill. It was not a social call however, but an attempt to find the truth towards something that was very troubling to them. Rumors had been spreading, there was someone using the dark arts to disturb the natural balance of things and raising the dead from their final rest. Such a thing could not be tolerated by the paladins from the southern islands, and so it was their duty to find this perpetrator of Gaia’s eternal will and bring them to justice. It was a serious issue, but the problem was more complicated to solve. Whoever was performing these profane rituals was a mystery, as well as the people they worked for. In order to gather the information they needed, they had to go somewhere rumored to have been visited by this strange group. "Could a group truly be so evil if they do something like free an entire village of people?" Sir Lucario asked, uncertain of the morality of such a mission. "Perhaps they have good reason for such a thing?" "Or they could be earning their trust just to use them for a nefarious purpose, like killing them to create even more of the unnatural." Gamesly countered, and Lucario was quiet after that. "Scribe Jacobs, make certain to record that we do not have all the facts, but when we do, we shall act accordingly." "Yes, sir knight." "Let it never be said the Dogs of War are a prejudiced bunch." Gerald said, chuckling as they continued on their way to Carrot Hill. The group itself was large, but what they were searching for was by and far larger than they could ever imagine.
  16. With each step Ashton drifts further into a fog of scattered iridescent light. The chill of the moist night air leaves his damp skin riddled with bumps as he fights the urge to shiver. Although lost in every conceivable way, he feels an odd sort of contentment about the situation. In fact, if asked, he might even say that he could die happily here. Swirls of faintly glowing mist, imbued with defused greens, blues, and reds, dance around his limbs as he negotiates the streets and sidewalk. Although, at a glance, it might appear that he is moving with purpose, it isn’t truth. Rather, the redhead’s path is aimless, his destination unknown, and his true purpose is lost to all, to include himself. And although this city is very much alive, even at the peak of night, and the streets and walkways are so laden with people and vehicles that there is scarcely an inch to spare, Ashton has never felt more at peace. The organized chaos is calm, the city and its people are a well oiled and efficient machine, and although he doesn’t belong to their system, his presence doesn’t disrupt it. Midway through an intersection, Ashton disappears from the crowd. A second later he’s at the top of a two-floor diner just beneath a holographic neon sign. Vermillion irides gleam against the aphotic sky, like two molten orbs superimposed against an oil bath, as he watches the rhythmic flashes an airship’s lights lazily pass overhead.
  17. In Dougton, there was once an orphanage. It was capable of housing 24 children - quite the feat for a single headmistress. It was a gorgeous home with an inviting layout. Though it's headmistress had long ago disappeared, and various schemes had been planned behind it's walls, it had finally been given hope once more. Rebirth through the war, an opportunity to help. Those children displaced by the current civil war are most welcomed, with open (though slightly green) arms. The orphanage runs off of self-sustainability, a small farmyard behind the house, and lanterns to light their way. Children who come to this place are taught all the basic skills, as well as how to defend themselves to some minor degree. This is to hope that they will never become victims to tyranny, or will choose to stand against what they know is wrong. A strong sense of moral Justice is offered to those willing to learn it. For the moment, the orphanage only houses 3 children. All of them from Blairville, and consisting of one boy and two young girls. The young man, Peter(age 12), has taken it upon himself to be a protector of sorts for Lucy (age 8 ) and Ruby (Age 6). While scared and distrustful, they have come to think of the orphanage as a second home where they will be protected and safe. Dhizzandra watches over them with pleased determination. The Dryad is simply happy to have a place to belong in this world - and she is pleased to help others, as well. Children 13 Adults 18 Completion of necessary buildings 10% Important threads/children acquisition: Home of the Brave. Children currently available for adoption: Blairville children: Peter – Age 12 – Blonde and amber eyed. He is a cautious, but brave young man who dislikes bullying. Lucy – Age 8 – Shy and slow to trust, a little bit bossy, as well. Lucy is definitely a kid who requires patience. Ruby – Age 6. Sweet and all too trusting, she’s got a sweet tooth like no other, however. Izral Children: Susan – Age 14 – An older, jaded girl who was rescued by Jericho from a brothel in Izral. She doesn’t have much hope for the world, but she’s learning that not everyone is bad. Brinley – Age 8 – Young and cheerful, she takes joy in simple things. Jessica – Age 6 – Another young and cheerful child. She likes butterflies and flowers, but we aren’t into the flavor red this week. William – age 4. – This young boy loves to run in mud puddles and play with worms, as young boys tend to do. Caitlyn – Age 2 – Often influenced by William regarding bugs and mud. She particularly dislikes nap-time. Derrick – Age 10 – Idolizes Peter and wants to protect the others from ever being treated poorly again. He’s often defensive on first meetings. Jonathan – Age 1 – Babbles with attitude. Hates diapers. Andromeda – Age 6 months – Sleeps a lot, when not screaming. Daniella – Age 10 – Sullen and moody, prone to dramatics. Kendra – Age 12 – Preteen. No more need be said.
  18. TheBluSlayer Ω

    Ares

    Ares is a kingdom of Valucre.
  19. Syncopy

    Unforeseen

    The tang of metal and the scent of molten flesh upon the air was just the beginning of the raid on every human sense imaginable. The overwhelming heat that radiated from the flames, driving back what was left of the Emperor's men now stood on the precipice of defeat. Bodies mangled and shredded against toppled rocks, the stink of their bubbling flesh clogged the nostrils and had those with weaker constitutions, spilling their stomach contents to the ground, in the midst of sword deflections from something they could not fathom. The reek of decay that the smog bore -- the ghastly apparitions that emerged only to swing long, jagged blades of ebony, fed the mind death and fear -- a haunting, demonizing mindset that left mortals immobilized and useless. Blades knocked from hands and bodies cleaved in twain, the fog of war advanced until little remained. The emperor's men were being slaughtered like cattle in the butcher's pits, as he stepped back further. "All is lost, Father. You must retreat." A young man's voice crossed the threshold, as a winding iridescent whip lashed out and into the darkness. "Ignium." He whispered and the coil of text, scrawled across an outstretched limb seized the end of the whip in the midst of the battle and exploded with an ivory inferno that decimated a radial section of the mist. It's abhorrent screams recoiled from the light of the mage and hissed violently. The smoke dare not billow within the man's reach -- and yet how was it to know the extent of the power it dealt with. Avitus turned to face his father once more, "Please, My King. You Must!" "And where will run? This demon -- it spawned from the heavens and descended upon us like the fated rain of the gods ... we are not long for this word, my General." The man's ivory hair clung to his neck and face, splattered with blood and sticky with sweat from the onslaught. He moved back into the room behind the throne, followed by his son and a half-dozen guards left with shields -- though as they exited, the fog advanced once more. "Then what are we to do, Father?" "You..." The king's emerald eyes sparkled with a sadness that only a Father who knew the end was near and his son may perish in this unfortunate battle, "... you must live, my Son." "I will not leave you, my King!" The fog poured into the room, having consumed what was left of the guards blocking the path and a fiery crown of death lingered in the midst of the mist that leeched across the ivory marble floor. The young man quickly put himself between the death and the king, and his body radiated with a pulsing light, so bright that the demon's hand and weapons lifted to cover what might have been a face, in attempts to shield itself. Avitus' mind quaked, diis exaudi ... "Integumentum." His voice was a whisper, but the barrier that was unleashed from his body consumed every inch of the walls within the room, cascading and crushing any part of the demon between the barrier and a wall. With a plume of ash, the screams and bellows could be heard outside of the ivory room, and weapons thumped against the exterior with little to no avail. In the midst of turning, Avitus felt the strange wyrdflow from his father and turned to see a void within the man's palms and the king whispered, "I thank you for protecting me... and now it is my turn to protect you." "Father! No---" The orb expanded, consuming the youth, and with it's snap -- out went the light. The king knelt and smiled softly, "Long live the king..."
  20. Caspian Mountain Ranges - Final Fantasy Character - Vito Summon - Floki Background Ambience (If you so choose) - Link Quest - The Ouread Cargo Raid The Ouread was a well known mountain range, it's crescent landscape scattered with caves and other yet to be discovered mysteries. The day was gloomy, the sky letting out a gentle rainfall. The sound of the rain echoed throughout the mountain range, complimenting the beautiful scenery. In between the two mountain ranges was a small lake, providing water to whatever life manages to survive the harsh landscape. A strong wind rippled it's surface and blew debris around, sending a shiver down his spine. He sat at one of the many peaks, waiting. Despite what surrounded Vito, he wasn't here for the scenery. A raid was about to take place. 'They should've already made their way through here an hour ago, typical lazy smugglers' He pat his mount of the back, even Floki was growing bored. The vessel was an airship that traveled through the mountain ranges, the course of which Vito had been monitoring for a while. The airship was used to transport cargo between Blairville and Norkotia, the contents of which are questionable. Vito had learned from members of the gypsies market that the contents included illegal narcotics, and potentially may also include smuggled criminals. While these maybe rumors, the suspicious flight path seemed to reinforce these accusations. No legitimate business practice would use such a dangerous method of transport, unless it had something to hide. The plan was simple. Board the ship, kill the crew, steal the ship and sell its contents. A simple mission which boasted the possession of a new vessel and potentially the acquiring of illegal goods, something that would sell well on the black market. "Where are you guys? I grow impatient, bring me the goods." The raider whispered to himself, clenching his fist in anticipation. Suddenly, a small vessel appeared around the corner. A wooden bow peering into sight. A small chant was just audible over the winds, three crew member stood on the top deck singing and drinking. A lovely sight to most, but an easy target for Vito. He brought his mount out of sight, ensuring the ship would not be able to see him. He lay waiting for the ship to come into sight, ready to pounce on his prey from above.
  21. Located within the crossroads leading out of Casper toward Hells Gate, the road taking the unlikeliest of travelers across the path of this quiet establishment. Tucked upon the edge of the Moonwood, the glowing lights from the four story building would call to you, beckoning you closer. You're tired, your muscles ache and your belly growls with hunger. You find yourself moving closer as your curiosity grows stronger. What will you find as you approach the edge of the darkened woods. The dark wood stained building slowly comes into view now, a set of massive double doors stand before you as you ascend its stone stairs. A wrap around deck on the outside of the main floor would allow one a glimpse through the windows inside before entering its warm glow. The floors a soft brown wood, the hardwood finish giving off a warm glow from the hanging chandeliers. Along the walls rested a series of booths, with dark brown tables and crimson leather seats. A series of smaller tables lined the center edges of the room with a small dance floor in its center. The largest of chandeliers coming to rest above the center of the room, its crystal reflecting the light of the candles dim glow from above, dancing across the finish. As you enter, the smell of roast beef and potatoes becomes so heavily apparent that you can almost make out the seasonings across your tongue. Your mouth may begin to water as you suddenly feel the need to quench your thirst. As you approach the bar, met with crimson leather covered bar stools. You'll stand face to face with a glass wall, its mirror finished back adorned with a variety of different beverages ranging in color, proof and size. To the left of you is a set of black saloon style doors, leading to the kitchens where the cooks were no doubt busy prepping that evenings main meal. You are greeted with a beautiful looking blue haired creature, the bartender and waitress of this tavern a likely npc, for she will greet you with a smile, introducing herself to you as she hands you a page with the establishments menu. Placing a coaster before you, be it at a table or the bar, she would say her name is Kyla, a quiet girl with cat like ears and a sleek orange tabby tail. Having made sure you were comfortable, she would disappear to get your request, so you choose to make one. She will go on to explain to you how the establishment has been around for hundreds of years, how its protected by an unseen magick that prevents its walls from being destroyed. With lilac purple eyes and a soft hand, she would point toward the photo of a man. His portrait resting on the wall, framed in an intricately carved wooden frame. This man has silvery hair, his eyes a deep crimson red as a black dress shirt adorned his pale broad chest. The name plate at the bottom reading "Uriel" the only indication of its founder. She will explain to you how there are rooms upstairs, free of charge so you choose to rest your head. And with a nod of her head toward the back door she would smile. Explaining how long ago there had been an abandoned train yard tucked within the woods, hidden from a dying age that had once been used to host many a great battles. Its iron gates stretching some fifteen feet high, covered with ivy. If you decide to stay, she will hand you a key-chain with a single skeleton key and a room number, pointing to the stairs to the right of the room. She will leave you to your devices then, moving off to preform some mundane task around the establishment Welcome to the Crimson Blood, a wayward home for the misfits and murderers. A revitalization of a previous time.
  22. Area: 400,000 SQ FT Population: 1200+ The moon shone splendid white, in the obfuscated ominous sky, it was the main wellspring of light that could be seen for miles. Beneath its bright glow, lay heavy gates, icy to the touch should you dare open them. Revealing behind them the sight of a little grave yard. Owls, crows, and swarms of vampire bats shudder overhead, their silhouettes casting hazy shadows across the broken stones of those long lost and dead, their eyes watching you as you approach the Château. The uneven cobblestones underfoot, worn smooth from years of use, pitted from years of abandonment are littered with dead leaves and branches that crunch under foot. The path winds its way through a labyrinth of graves, hedges and leaf barren trees creaking in the wind. Pathetic patches of dead grass, dull and dim as though it had lost the will to live and quit its quest for growth. And a single desolate oak, influenced by the breeze whispering into the perpetual night with its leafless branches. All leading up to the grand Château Choisel. Enhanced as it was with foreboding figures and carvings, these Gothic touches stared out with blank marble eyes, gaping mouths, horns and claws spoke of vile evildoings inside. Château Choisel, carved and built deep into the mountain side, stood poised, its dilapidated exterior a mockery to the grandness hidden within. The way to the entryway was congested with hedges and briers whose thistles gave a last effort to stop an unknowing visitors progress. Pruned plants, long dead and abandoned flanked the steel swinging doors. They easily swing open with surprising silence, a sound counter to their dilapidated state. The ghost of hand on the shoulder, a puff of breath on the ear sends chills down the spine, characteristic responses to the sudden drop in temperature enough to drive one back toward the way they've come. The clucking from an imperceptible host and the flutter of movement just out of sight - all lead to one conclusion, this was not a safe place for mortals to tread. Counter to its exterior, superfluous and ornate with a desire for decoration; builders worked tirelessly to design décor and ornamentation to the Chateau. Patterns, shapes, and detail worked together to create a visual effect that was both imaginative and impressive. The interior of the Estate tended to be unique and rambling in its complexity. Multiple bedrooms, second-floor balconies, double doors, ornate stairways, and detailed interior trim. High ceilings, deep archways, carved woodwork, and ornate chandeliers set the stage. A formal dining room ensured enjoyable meals. A library stocked well with books and with a sprawling fireplace provided comfort and warmth. Spacious parlors located throughout the home provided occupants with formal living areas for welcoming guests. Parlors usually featured ostentatious décor such as tasseled draperies, heavy tapestries, dark wood, fireplaces with fancy mantles, and gilded wainscoting. - - - - - - - The Great Hall A multifunction room, the great hall was used for receiving guests and it was the place where the household would dine together, including the lord of the house, his gentleman attendants and at least some of the servants. From time to time it might also serve as the lord's courtroom. The decor as grand as it was imaginative, lent to the greatness of the hall and its importance. Paintings and tapestries, telling stories long lost hung on the walls, framing the ornate molding that encircled grand windows. The large bay window dominating the center wall, offering a glimpse out into the courtyard that lay beyond. The high ceilings supported by thick dark oak beams with paintings of the coat of arms looking down on the visitors, reminding them of who's benevolence they were seeking. A minstrel's gallery lay above the screen entrance to the hall, a little alcove from which music and joviality echoed across the expanse of hall and bounced gaily off the walls. At the other end of the hall, upon a raised dais, sat the head table, its heavy oak frame imposing to all who approached. Only the greatest of the great and most trusted of the Lord and Master would be honored a seat at such a prestigious place. Beyond the dais, behind a heavy oak framed door, the Lord and Master's family private rooms were concealed. A kitchen, buttery and pantry lay on the opposite side of the screen passage. Here lay the largest fireplace of the Chateau used for warmth and some of the cooking, so large a person could stand within it. It had an elaborate over mantle with stone carvings and plasterwork containing coats or arms, heraldic mottoes in Latin, caryatids and other adornments. Though the kitchen itself lies a level lower for the bulk of cooking. The great hall would be rigged with a listening device system allowing conversations to be heard in the lord's bedroom above as well as throughout the entire Chateau. The upper hall contained the Lord and Master's living quarters and bed room, a testament of comfort, lavishness and sin. Off one end of his quarters one had access from the external staircase tower from the ground-floor hall. The smaller ground-floor hall, directly beneath the Lord and Master's quarters, remained for receiving guests of social order. Its adornments and décor just as lavish as the great hall itself, a taste of the rest of the grandness that lay within. Teasing all who entered, filling them with a desire to be invited into the inner sanctum of their Lord and Master. Bed Chambers The Great chamber, the resting place for the Lord and Lady of the Chateau, lay above the ground floor hall. Its ceilings too painted with the crests of the families that presided within the residence. Walls draped with heavy tapestries, and windows that overlooked the courtyard. A large bed dominated the room, the dark oak a stark contrast to the tan of the plaster walls. Red drapes hung from the bed, concealing its comfort and warmth within. A set of lounging chairs were tucked to one side of the room, right near the fireplace. A place for the Lord to entertain his Lady....or other guests. A separate sleeping quarters was built into the structure for servants and attendants to sleep a short distance away from their Master. Ready to answer his call at any time of day or night. The castle hosted a myriad of other rooms, apartments built into the mountain as the residence grew. No windows graced these rooms, but the glow of candles kept it forever illuminated. These rooms were decorated and intended to hold guests rather than residents. Permanent residents were granted other small apartments or rooms based on their status and rank within the Coven. Each one a unique blend of its inhabitant and the history of the residence itself. All dominated by the dark oak that flanked the walls and ceilings in an attempt to support the structure. The Solar A private sitting room for the Lord and Master's family. Its intended audience the Lady of the caslte, a private and quiet getaway for her to hide from the noise of the day should she feel the need to. It is decorated with tapestries and paintings of various types, many pastoral scenes and landscapes. A fireplace not too large and not too small, decorated in a similar fashion to the great hall, hosted ornately carved oak. Upon it's mantle sat a grandfather clock and a vase full of black, thorny roses. It was a secluded spot, away from the great hall, located in the back tower of the outer Chateau, not built into the mountainside. Kitchen Located on the east side of the estate, away from the castle, covered by an arcade. Its location strategic in keeping the smells of smoke, and noise of the bustling kitchen staff away from sight and earshot of guests. Frying pans, pots, kettles, waffle irons, and utensils hang over adjustable cranes that could be easily swung away from the fires to keep them from burning or boiling over. Utensils were often held directly over the fire or placed into embers on tripods. The kitchen staff numbered in the hundreds, including: pantlers, bakers, waferers, sauciers, larderers, butchers, carvers, page boys, milkmaids, butlers and scullions. The kitchen was fully built and equip to handle to the stress of preparing two meals daily for several hundred people. A large woodshed located outside the kitchens held at minimum 1,000 cartloads of wood and a small barn held coal for burning. A pantry room kept the food, dishes and provisions stored and served. Sometimes it served as an isolation chamber for a naughty maid or disobedient page boy. The kitchen also boasted a larder and buttery located within its walls. Chapel Built with three levels, two intended for worship. Its plain decor and focus on worship pressing in upon its prayerful visitors the weight of their religion. The bottom most layer, located beneath the castle, was intended for the catacombs of the Lord and Master's family. The second level, a place of worship for the residents. The third, an ornately decorated level, complete with balcony and chairs that overlooked the second level, designed only for the Lord and Master himself. Off of it a small chapel, perhaps containing a relic, ornately decorated with gold. Cabinet / Library The Library, tucked within the folds of the mountain, was a testament to books gathered, well cared for and stashed away for centuries. Shelves lined the walls, their dark oak free of dust at all times. Comfortable furniture dominated the center of the cool room, the flickering lights from candles in hanging cast iron chandeliers lighting the room adequately enough to read. Hidden away behind a bookcase door, that only the Lord and Master would know about, lay a private chamber with the most valuable books. A place him to do his work undisturbed by guests. A gleaming desk made of mahogany was centered in the small room, a large wing backed chair situated behind it. Dungeon Located in the deepest darkest bowels of the castle, the dungeons hosted prisoners. Its dank walls leaked limestone water coming from inside the mountain, always damp and the air cold. Walls thickened and enchanted to block out the sound of screaming, agony and utter despair of those locked within. It featured no windows and no candles save the torches the jailers used to see as they navigated its narrow hallways. Prisoners were crammed into small cells with no place to sit, often dropped down into them from a trap door located above it. There they struggled in fear, forgotten, until their mortal souls passed from the world and left behind their rotting corpses and eventually nothing but bones and dust. A single torture chamber was situated in the far corner of the dungeons, filled to the brim with various tools of torture, they lined the walls. A long wooden beam that was situated over a stone basin was used to string up prisoners, the basin to catch their blood. Feeding Sanctum / Bloody Mary Tavern A sanctum of sin, located deep within the mountain, a "dungeon" of sorts, used for feeding. A series of prison cells hosted volunteers or varying races and types, all there for indulgence. Dimly lit for ambiance, the light from the cast iron chandeliers flicked across the plaster walls. In exchange for their services they are greatly compensated by the Lord and Master. On a wall opposite the cells lies massive double doors brimming with chatter and activity was the quaint Bloody Mary tavern. There, others residing in the Glen can come and partake in sins of a different kind. Injecting, snorting or inhaling their drug of choice, reveling in the ecstasy that is rush of chemicals. Aged alcoholic beverages of all sorts are available to the public hosted by two sister vampresses that have a knack for luring in susceptibile customers and seducing them, then drain the blood from their prey after they have been fulfilled in desire. Here too one can find and have the popular and invaluable Elixir of Life, for a cost. Customers are hosted in clean cells after their ingestion of the concoction and held 24hrs until after their change. Courtyard Walk through a set of large double glass doors located off the great hall and you will find yourself in a courtyard, whose rival knows no others. Hosting a variety of moon surviving plants, vivid and dark blues, pinks, purples, reds and greens dominate the landscape. Pathways weave through batches of poisonous and deadly plants. Here is the gathering place of men and women, all in an attempt to catch the attention of another. Whether their intentions good or bad, all gather here to try. In an abandoned corner of the courtyard lays a peculiar patch of carefully tilled and cultivated herbs. Out of place in such a deadly and beautifully dark courtyard, it is filled with bright greens, purples, reds, and browns. An enchanted, fake sun hovering over them to encourages them to grow in the perpetual night. Wooden stakes with strings tied to between them outline the perimeter of the herb garden, cautioning all not to step on the delicate plants. Similarly small wooden labels stick out of the ground next to clusters of herbs like fresh little grave markers. "Medical" Clinic Located off the courtyard, not far from the small patch of herbs, built into the remains of a garden house, lies the Medical Clinic. Its two front windows shaded over with lacy curtains, obscuring the scene within. Through a narrow wooden door with dirty and warped four square window at the top. Above the door, a white washed sign reading "Medical Clinic," leaves no mystery as to the structures purpose. Once inside, the large room is divided by a paper screen. The front of the room dedicated to treating the living, chairs, shelves, and a table are used to heal. Behind the paper screen, lurks a laboratory of haunting proportions. The shelves are stacked and lined with jars filled with various and strange objects, empty vials and needles neatly organized. A line of counters frames half the room, upon it sits a towering plant. Black in nature, with red leaves, if one were to look closely they would see the outline of razor sharp teeth within the beast. In the center of the room, a sterile examination table lay with a large light above it. Beneath it various tubes, syringes, scalpels and other tools. In the far corner of the room a large clear tube looms nearly up to the high raftered ceiling, currently empty. Looking up at the wood beam supported rafters one would see herbs of varying degrees of dryness. A rickety ladder tucked off to the side used to climb to its heights. The air smelled of basil, lemon and preservatives. The underground escape tunnels Beneath the castle weaves miles and miles of tunnels, all with the purpose of providing an escape for those within should the worst happen. The entrance and exit to them is only known to the Lord and Master.
  23. Through the Sigil’s Door Prelude Everything rattled. A man vomited into the corner of a dimly light metallic room. Seated everywhere against the walls were men and women of varying degrees of danger, most clocking in at around heavily armed and extremely dangerous. Criminals, mercenaries, people who fought for coin and lacked a sense of honor. The exact people that Miss Blonde the Crime Lord tended to surround herself with. The kind of people who would do anything to get this job done, even if it meant burning down entire towns and leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. These people were on a mission and they had been paid well. Considering the risks they had to be paid generously. If one were to look out the window they’d see the dark and heavy storm clouds that belted out lightning and screamed thunder. In an massive airships cargo hold, the ship pushed its way through the storm that surrounded a massive portal in the center of this planet. What used to be a chunk of land was swallowed into itself and had become a portal to the multiverse, it was her opportunity to get back home. ”Five minutes to drop!” A voice from the forward compartment yelled. Standing up Miss Blonde stood at the front of the drop gate. She was short in stature, just a hair short of five feet tall. Yet she carried herself with a deadly seriousness and raw power that radiated off of her body. Facing all those who had decided to join her in this endeavor to secure a package and return it, she would give an operational briefing. So with her gas mask on and her robotic laced voice, Blonde spoke to her temporary employees. ”Half of you will die or go MIA. That’s the best outcome of this mission.” She needed to tell the truth, this was not a moment to sugarcoat anything. ”We will be dropping into a portal that will hopefully send us to a place known as Sigil. It is a city that lays at the center of the multiverse, and when I say hopefully I do mean hopefully. I will be leading the jump and will be the first off the ship, so if you follow me, and you stay on my six, and a breeze or lightning bolt doesn’t take you off course. Then you will be ok. Otherwise you will be lost to the multiverse, and let me make this perfectly clear.” Blonde paused and looked over all their faces. ”Neither myself or anyone in my employ will come back for you. You are on your own and I expect that all of you would do the same for me. No matter what happens to me, you will complete the mission. Mission specifics will become unlocked in your data devices that you have been provided once we push through the portal. So make your peace with whatever god you subscribe to because this is it people.” Her briefing was short, unceremonious, and only slightly depressing. Yet it was what needed to be said. ”Four minutes!!” The forward voice shouted once again. As everyone readied themselves, they would be provided with an portable inflatable raft and a parachute should they get blown off course or decide to leave. It was really more of a formality and safety blanket. This was after all a giant portal in the middle of the ocean, so chances were they wouldn’t come in handy. If anyone were to look over to Blonde they’d see her forgo the emergency supplies and just take what was most important. A rather body shaped sub machine-gun and a bandolier of grenades and ammo strapped across her black jacket. She was ready. As for everyone else. They had about four minutes until they would jump into hell.
  24. 'Something happened in the mountains,' he said, voice echoing across the halls of dreams. Across from him, he watched the elf nod, her eyes dulled with sorrow and worry. Instinctively he reached forth, his eager hand crossing the space between them like a falling star streaking the heavens. Here he can't feel the lush curve of her cheek or the warmth of her soft skin, but his mind conjured the sensations, and it was the next best thing. 'I don't know what yet. They shouldn't be so ... active." She leaned into the welcoming palm, finding home within the callouses freckling his palm. Within these halls, they work the magic to help bring life to memories, like the warmth of his touch and curve of her cheek. They are real, yet they are not - it's a difficult thing to paint. For them, it did not matter, not when there is so much to be said in just a matter of hours. It is too easy to get caught up within the winding maze of their dreams and memories; the temptation to stay can be an alluring song most can't fight. 'They will figure it out, Harshal,' she said with conviction that made him think she was telling the truth. 'We have our mission; we can't abandon our post.' And when she turned her face, she placed a familiar kiss on the palm of his hand. It made his skin crawl, causing the song of dreams to beat louder and louder in his ears. The day they parted ways she had done the very same, and now it was replaying before him, causing him to suck in a deep breath that did nothing to quell his nerves. Elves of his homeland kissed their closest friends palm as a farewell to one another; a representation of companionship that would stretch for years to come as they are now bound together. And she had linked him to her, their friendship forever safely harbored in the palm of their united hands. He missed the smell of spices and smoke wafting through his room; he yearned for the voice of his mother's singing while she baked. The sweet familiarities of a mundane life made him eager to return to the tall mountains of his home, abandoning this mission. 'No, you don't.' 'No, I don't,' he replied, forgetting that it's easy to hear someone's thoughts if you're not too careful. 'Don't wait so long to speak with me, okay? I worry.' 'I promise.' That promise pushed him back into the world of the living, his brief moment of hesitance making the reunion of soul and body a rough one. Startled awake, the large knight rolled roughly to his hands and knees, the biting morning air causing him to shiver. He has visited the halls every night since he and Shanti departed, hoping that he would meet her there but time stretched into months, and he began to give up hope. They both are connected to the heart of their homeland, so it wasn't much of a surprise to see her there in the halls with the same feeling of dread as himself. The mountains of the Flame Court are alive for reasons unknown, creating a danger that is just as mysterious. Blinking away his dream, red eyes focused up to the sky, noting the mix of colors of early morning spread above them. The journey hadn't been a terrible one, almost pleasant if he's to be entirely honest. He turned his attention to Jal who slept close by (their bedrolls next to one another) and heaved a sigh of relief - he was the pleasantness. The knight had almost fallen to the temptation of staying inside his dream, and it was worrisome; seeing Jal made it clear that he had truly returned to the real world with only a slight touch of the halls tainting his mind. "Creator give me strength," he growled, hauling himself to his feet. Harshal began the morning routine quickly, wanting to feel the chill of the morning, smell the sweetness of the world around him. This has become a habit during their journey: Harshal began breakfast of eggs and bread, wait for Jal to wake up, eat, and talk around the fire before setting out. They've had their fair share of interruptions with beasts and bandits, escaping each moment with only minor blunders. The decision to go to Temple City was made after one particular little struggle that left them with only half of their supplies intact, and he knows he can handle a few more weeks with just the minimum, but he was not willing to push such struggles on his friend. After breakfast, he would don his armor, for now, he wears simple travelers wear that made it much more comfortable with sifting about their small camp. While separating the rest of their food in equal measure, he kept his eyes on their surroundings, noting the sandy hills and minor vegetation. It was quiet, and it raked his already raw nerves.
  25. Talia, the large island that sat under Athentha and Lyonesse remained silent, looming. They never got involved with the affairs of either island. But in the current wake of the demons, more and more appearing, the land couldn't sit quiet. Not any longer could it remain neutral to its sister islands waging war and killing innocents. In it's heart Talia needed to stand with what was right. The destruction of the Sakimura's last remaining child. She was the danger now, and not because the elders said so. Talia witnessed the horrors that came out of Athentha. Demons awoke and arose throughout Talia's cities destroying the peace they had enjoyed. They had no saviour, no demon hunter. They only had themselves and their knights. It was time to act, to reclaim their home. And it began with cleansing the demons from the island. The people would run through with weapons, taking down any demon they saw, even at theown cost of their lives. The land would burn. Saved from the darkness. If only that was true.
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