Jump to content

Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'Open'.



More search options

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


Forums

  • General
    • Introductions
    • Water Cooler
    • Discussion
  • Terrenus
    • Terrenus Roleplay Information
    • Cities of Terrenus
    • Wilds of Terrenus
  • Genesaris
    • Genesaris Roleplay Information
    • Kingdoms of Genesaris
    • Orisia Isle
  • Renovatio
    • Renovatio Roleplay Information
    • Kingdoms of Renovatio
    • Alterion
  • Other
    • Alternative
  • Roleplay Resources
  • The Veluriyam Empire's General Info and OOC Chat
  • The Veluriyam Empire's Lunaris Notice Board
  • The Veluriyam Empire's The Lore Box
  • The Veluriyam Empire's Thread Archive
  • Nations of Terrenus's Discussion
  • Story, Worldbuilding and Lore's Discussion
  • ARG club - public's Discussion

Categories

  • The World
  • Terrenus
    • Archive
    • Veluriyam
    • Yh'mi
  • Genesaris
    • Orisia
  • Tellus Mater
    • Renovatio
    • Alterion
    • Elendaron
  • Bestiary
  • Resources
    • NUX
    • General
    • Lore Archive
    • Newsletter Archive

Find results in...

Find results that contain...


Date Created

  • Start

    End


Last Updated

  • Start

    End


Filter by number of...

Joined

  • Start

    End


Group


AIM


MSN


Yahoo


Skype


Discord


Gender


Location


Interests


Occupation


Referral

Found 557 results

  1. 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.
  2. The airship landed on the lush grass of the dock. It could have landed in the sea, but then it probably sink. And Rowan not being so big, it was how they landed any aircraft. Unless it came crashing from the sky. Rin exited the ship as she looked at the people around her. Hearing the exploits of what happened in the two islands of Talia and Allia. Two dead elders at the hands of the beast. She wondered if they connected it to her yet. She didn't know. At the same time she casually strolled into the heart of Argyll-Obelisk. She knew that she would have to reach the bigger city to find the elder. But for now she wanted to visit the temple. It use to house an artifact. But now it held nothing but old whispers and wind. And it sounded interesting. She heard that the sorceress Sabbath hung around the temple. It could be a good opportunity to gain an ally to her side. Or probably another chance to fall deeper into the darkness. For now she checked into the Shady Iris Inn and rented a room. For now the local gossip would fuel her mind to see what was going on in time. "The world is ending. Two elders dead. How many more will fall before the tide of war kills us all?!" "The beast has come to Rowan. We need to stand up to it. The elder will help us If we ask him!" "Thats how the last two fell! We are doomed." Climbing the stairs to the last room on the left, she heard the scared patrons of the inn. How things unraveled to the point the elders were dying. Yet no children or seeds made their appearance yet. And she wondered why. Closing the oak door to her room, Rin flopped onto the bed exhausted. She also wondered why Flanna would be mad at her, her only friend in the world at the moment even though she was demon and she said nothing. She sighed. Closing her eye she tried to sleep.
  3. Outsider. Unnatural. Heretic. Bittersweet were the epithets that tripped off the wagging tongues of those who could not appreciate Caeceila Glasmann's affliction. In their unflagging ignorance, the superstitious and the malcontent readily misrepresented Caeceila's motives and branded her with all manner of vulgar misnomers, none of which bear repeating, that overplayed her purported ruthless efficiency and insatiable lust for blood. Of late, Hell's Gate was a cornucopia of such rumors where the nobility was concerned, particularly in drinking establishments frequented by the lower classes. In truth, anyone who was anyone could testify that none of these labels applied to Caeceila, for definitive knowledge of her condition, at least among the powers that be, easily outpaced the gossipmongers' litany. Nevertheless, a convenient lie coupled with Caeceila's newfound notoriety had transformed her into a symbol entities with an agenda could assail. She was much despised by the downtrodden who had lost their livelihoods to astounding advances in industrial automation, marked forever as a noble who cared more for the welfare of strangers than the poignant suffering of her own people, and they sought to vilify her for that injustice whether or not she was a deserving recipient of their rage. Was it any surprise, then, that drunken rabble had assembled at the gates of the Glasmann Estate, brandishing crude, improvised weaponry, approximately a quarter of an hour before guests were permitted to set foot on the premises? Not at all. Nor was it especially alarming when the mob forced itself past the team of young, well-groomed servants unfurling plush crimson carpets in advance of whatever might constitute the evening's opening ceremony, hellbent on vandalizing Caeceila's property. It was the terror that gripped the intruders in the chaotic retreat that ensued, the sustained shrieking of adult men carted out on stretchers, and the wild-eyed stares of the handful who were silent that caused the local looky-loos to quietly disperse, leaving only the scarce few who weren't so intimidated by Caeceila's show of force that they dare not brave her lair and risk her wrath. When the servants were recalled and the stout, ebony gate slid aside, its steady, telescoping motions doing much to enrich the pageantry of the reveal, a cavernous expanse illuminated by an artificial star stretched out before the audience. A tremendous collection of life-sized metal soldiers, facing inward toward the crimson finery neatly draped over the mass of platforms spread before a fleet of luxurious hovercraft, chartered for the express purpose of conveying guests from the entrance to the estate to the manor's great hall, scintillated in rays of light cast by the setting "sun," a soft, white orb that engendered no discomfort in the eye when viewed directly. A host of six-legged robots, mobile artillery units, judging by their heavy-duty design and menacing black frames, skittered in the distance, their imposing armaments repurposed for the night's festivities, firing a ceaseless barrage of cylindrical canisters that erupted into fantastical shapes cut from brilliant light into the air above crowd. The air itself was sweet with the amalgamated scent of beds of magnolia and lilac in blossom, courtesy of a microhabitat enabled by the city's world-renowned magitech. Indeed, all kinds of flowering flora dotted the landscape, tended, as they were, by swarms of butterflies so garish their admirers might get the impression that they too dressed their Sunday best for just this occasion. Empty birdcages are suspended from towering trees, implying that the exotic songbirds they once held have been moved elsewhere until the fireworks show concludes. The palatial structure that serves as the Glasmann residence proudly stands in consummate contrast to the bulk of Hell's Gate. Artistry and craftsmanship adorn every shining facet of the ancient domicile. Each stone bespeaks both the longevity and prosperity of the venerable Glasmann line, as if the fates of House Glasmann and the city of Hell's Gate were inextricably interwoven in days of yore. Much of the central structure, in fact, predates what is now considered the basic infrastructure of Hell's Gate, painstakingly preserved from the first settlement and transferred to the modern age with a profound reverence for tradition that is so very lacking in a great number of Hell's Gate's modern nobility. All of the glasswork in the older sections of the manor has been recently rehabilitated, allowing the throng of onlookers to examine renditions of Caeceila's ancestors and key events in the history of Hell's Gate through various viewscreens in the hovercrafts as they soar toward the newest wing of the manor, a staggeringly advanced wing constructed primarily from concrete, steel, glass, and composite materials. Several other buildings are visible from the hovercraft, including a private airship dock, servants' quarters, and what appears to be a small communications center flying Drow colors, but none can hope to hold a candle to the sprawling behemoth that is the Glasmann manor. Almost universally, the atmosphere is charged with magic and excitement, for this is the maiden unveiling of the Glasmann Estate. The news crews that remain descend into a dizzying spirals of feverish activity as influential and inconsequential members of society alike are whisked, as one, into this veritable wonderland that was hiding beneath their very noses. Upon disembarking at the great hall and proceeding through its titanic, metal doors, all guests, having checked in with the servants manning the gates prior to their admittance to a hovercraft, are issued a magitech tablet displaying the itinerary for the event and assigned a personal servant who shall see to their needs for the duration of the event. After this, guests are permitted to wander the great hall and the lawn in front of the great hall with the caveat that the uppermost balcony, accessible by both a staircase and an elevator, is a restricted area. For the majority, there is little draw in scaling that cordoned off staircase, for the diversions available on the first floor, mezzanine, and lawn are guaranteed to entertain even the most boorish partygoer. From skeet shooting and dueling with foils to sipping aged Yamazaki whiskey, snacking on hors d'oeuvres prepared by a teppanyaki chef, and chatting about relics, tapestries, and hunting trophies locked in various display cabinets or fixed to the dark purple wall above the handcarved wainscoting before the roaring fire of the great hearth, all ought to find something they can enjoy until the event gets underway. Yet... The organizer of the event, Caeceila Glasmann, is nowhere to be found. As with the interlopers, this is no real cause for alarm... Except that those sensitive to the paranormal will sense that the veil is especially weak in this manor. Something is amiss, but there's no time to investigate now. A bell rings, signaling that the first round has begun. White leather armchairs, velveteen loungers, mahogany furniture, fur rugs, Byōbu and sundries have been placed on the mezzanine and the first floor to facilitate social interaction with the intent of strengthening Valucre as a whole.
  4. Modern Illusion: Unusual World
  5. 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.
  6. The forest was quiet, the wind soft against the trees causing only the most subtle of stir and wave of branches. Sitting in a large clearing Rabbit let the cool air fill his lungs in one deep breath, the winter air was only just turning into spring and the harsh chill of frigid air still lingered heavy in the Moonwood alongside the blossoming of the forest's rebirth. Rabbit's ears rotated on top of his head in response to the soft sounds of his long time home, but in those sounds was also a painful silence - the Dryads were gone. They had already taken the gate to the spirit realm, choosing what the fairies before them had chosen; to abandon the mortal realm and all it's growing changes. Rabbit could not follow them and though he had struggled with it, he knew today was the last day he could delay; today would be the last day he remained in the Moonwood, the only place he had ever known. Standing up quickly Rabbit's garish attire stood out like a sore thumb in the subtle green and browns, the patterns and colors blending into a bizarre but fitting appearance for the unusual creature that Rabbit was. His 'name' told the story of what he was in many ways, standing five foot nine inches Rabbit was a bipedal white hare, his large pointed ears making his height appear even larger and adding to a sense of unease he exuded to those who weren't used to seeing him. In ways he felt wrong, but in others he was very inviting - to peer at Rabbit was like peering at nature itself, beautiful but also dreadful. Turning on his 'heels' Rabbit stalked toward a game path he knew lead beyond the borders of his home, his twin swords dangling at his side filling the forest with the soft jingle of loose metal in motion. As he went creatures big and small offered their goodbyes, the normally elusive denizens of the Moonwood saying a silent farewell to their constant protector - they too felt the melancholy of his departure and the loss of the Dryads, and while the animals lacked the means to truly express it they felt compelled to see Rabbit one last time. Deer stood beside wolf, hunger and territorial disputes left aside for the loss of their Knight. "The Moonwood won't fall without me, I am but one." Rabbit reminded them as he walked, his somber expression not hiding his regret for leaving them unguarded. A part of him, the largest, considered simply staying in his home and fighting to protect it as he always did; but he knew he could not. His mothers would never forgive him for remaining when told to leave, and he had a feeling the Moonwood would function fine without him as it always had before his birth. As quickly as the woodland creatures had arrived they also vanished, returning to their constant struggle against the Moonwood itself and each other in turn. With each soft step he grew closer to the edge of the Moonwood, his mind focusing with clarity in turn. The world was vast, and the Moonwood would be just one place he would remember fondly in his lifetime - a lesson his mothers hoped to pass to him, to experience what the world had to offer and decide for himself if it was a place he wanted to be. The trees cleared all at once, and Rabbit for the first time viewed the wide plains and sights of Terrenus and felt the weight of the journey on his shoulders. A whole new world lay just beyond, and the excitement had Rabbit's nose twitching with anticipation and excitement! Adventure awaited! Location: Western Edge, Moonwood, Terrenus Destination: ??? OOC: (This is an Open RP, feel free to take part and bring your own stories!)
  7. 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? @King
  8. 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--
  9. ~*~ Ten miles outside of the boundaries of Tia ~*~ Kyra looked worse for wear as she walked into her tent only to find several people sitting with in the tent waiting for her. It looked like the whole Nichole Family were sitting in chairs and watching. Each of them looked rather tired as if they have not slept in days, which was partially true. Kyra recounted how they took a stand outside the gates of their school. They opened up the school and took a stand against the darkness that was plaguing the city of Tia. However it was overwhelming and more powerful than Kyra could ever imagine. On top of that, a deadly virus/infection was weaponized which caused the deaths of countless Tian brethren. Perhaps it was the goddesses watching over Kyra, but she knew it was time to leave, and thus the school fled through the underground tunnels of the school. They accepted as many refugees as they could before they sealed the entrance doors. The group composed of students and refugees fled for what seemed like hours, running at a quick pace. Behind them they heard hard thuds and shifting of the earth. Not knowing what it was, the adrenaline kicked in and the fleeing party ran faster fearing death. Once they reached the open air, the refugees did not stop, for Eleria, Daughter of Selena sprouted her wings and flew forward, becoming a beacon in which the group could follow through the darkness. It wasn’t until another ten miles that they finally stopped in order to catch their breath. Ironically as the massive group of people traveled it seemed as more people who were fleeing the city began to intertwine with the traveling party and nearly doubling their size. Kyra set up several medical stations and began running magical tests in order to clear new applicants to their groups. Those who were infected where frozen by magic and reinforced by protective spells until they can find a cure. The problem however was no longer the virus, but the logistics of the situation. Kyra did not have a way to feed this many people. Sure they had supplies that several hundred people carried, but it could not feed tens of thousands of refugees. They needed help. Kyra had ordered several dozen of search parties to travel out into the night to hunt wildlife for food and forage as much as they can. The students began utilizing their magic and created homemade shelters for people to sleep in to provide some protection from the outside weather. However their magic was limited and soon they grew tired as well. Something had to be done. “Kyra. If we don’t decide our next course of action, many people will die. We cannot allow this to happen. If what the reports say are true, it is possible that we are the last of Tian culture as we speak.” Natalie did not make eye contact as she leaned back into her chair and closed her eyes. Kyra could tell that Natalie, for a powerful as she was, clearly was spent. Her mana levels were extremely low and even her reserves were becoming scarce. “I understand that cousin. The people need to rest, and while they are doing so, we need to come to a decision. Where do we go? Who will take us in?” Kyra looked around and waited for some suggestions. “How about Last Chance? Sure it is a town of dangers but a town none the less.” Eleria said softly as her tired eyes focused on the task at hand. “We cannot go there.” A familiar voice spoke as a Drow entered the tent. Nim’Ruin was a mage of considerable talents, and was the only male to be recognized by the family. He however held an annoying personality but Selena found him to be as loyal as Drow can be. “The Black Witch is within Last Chance. With as tired as you all look, perhaps it isn’t the best thing to have to contend against her magick when we aren’t one hundred percent.” Nim’Ruin spoke in a rather direct tone. Eleria countered as she smiled at Nim’Ruin. “No one has seen the Black Witch in years. We cannot head to Hel’s Gate either for Shekinah is there hiding. Even if these women are family, I rather deal with the Black Witch over that Lich.” “Be respectful to your elders Eleria.” Nim’Ruin said softly as he waved his hand. A map of Terrenus laid upon the table. “Last Chance and Hell’s Gate are off the table. We cannot subject these people to the ways of Last Chance and we won’t be able to protect them against the powers lying dormant there. Yh’Mi is also off the table. The Matron is there as we speak, and there is some interference with her magic. She is weaker there, and thus the rest of us will be extremely weakened as well. I say we start looking to the west. There is Casper, Ignatz, Dougton, and Weland.” “All of those places are heavily guarded and we have no idea if they will even take our numbers? True, they are all Terrens but as we travel I am confident we will pick up more people. We need somewhere far from the center of politics and somewhere where it is safe. Perhaps Baizo Isle?” Kyra said curiously as she touched the top left portion of the map. “A town called Aspyn seems to be the further port from where Tia is.” Nim’Ruin nodded slightly. “Aspyn from what I heard is a newer city. That however is a long way to travel We will lose many people.” “We will lose many people with us standing idly by. We will announce our intent and those who wish to travel with us can stay. Those who wish to go to other cities are free to leave. I however think that people will opt to stay then to venture the wilderness alone. We can stop by Dougton on the way and rest, and then head to Weland and then proceed north. We can send emissaries ahead and inform them of the fate of Tia and ask for aid while we are passing through. Until then, Cam’Mia can travel to Biazo Isle with Nim’Ruin to inquire about if they will accept us.” Kyra turned around to look at everyone but it was Nim’Ruin who spoke up again. “Shall we offer them our school?” He said softly as he met eyes with Kyra. “If they will have all of us, then yes, we will offer to relocate our school and knowledge there. We cannot betray the trust of the people who are with us. We have to find them a home. Thousands of families depend on it.” Kyra said in finality as Nim’Ruin merely smiled. “I suppose our Matron was wise to leave you in charge Kyra. You are sometimes the best of us.” He said quickly as he bowed and stepped out of the tent with Cam’Mia following right behind him. “This is going to be dangerous and long.” Natalie said in passing as she stood up, stretching out. “We cannot leave these people to die.” Kyra said as she stared towards the tent’s exit. “No…No we can’t. Get some rest Kyra. You will need it tomorrow. I’ll head out to secure the perimeter. Hopefully the hunters come back soon. “Natalie breathed deeply as she left the tent, leaving Kyra behind to her own thoughts. Kyra, the woman in charge of the Nichole School of Magic sat by her cot and nearly placed her hands over her face. In all of her years alive, she had never felt so much burden upon her shoulders. She had been to wars upon wars but never was she in charge. She could help but wonder what will happen if she failed? What would happen to her students? Almost all of them held massive potential and if she led them to their deaths, it would be horrific. Kyra definitely needed help and soon. @amenities Summary of Past Events: The Nichole School of Magic fled Tia via underground tunnels after helping thousands of fleeing citizens. They are looking for a home.
  10. 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.
  11. NOTICE Hub in Use MTPD The Buffer MTPD Headquarters (Martial Town Police Department) Detective Parean Parean Music The Drain Detective It had taken a sloshing crater of a puddle to convince Parean to put his cigarette out beneath his umbrella. The latter had done enough to shield the flame but getting his shoe soaked had ruined his appetite to smoke. It was pouring out, the night cold, with the stars a hazy overhead amid the city’s smog and sure to remain that way these few hours past evening. Reaching the sidewalk after crossing the street, he checked his watch: just past nine o’clock. I’m on time. At least that’s something. On time, the first time, and the first night in Martial Town. It was every bit as vibrant and lethargic, dead and lively, as he had heard. A paradox. Just like me. The city’s suburbs had been quite a contrast to its central areas. All of Martial Town was walled on the outside, some parts in, while the outer wall was as much to protect the people inside as the people outside, though which one was more than the other Parean didn’t know. There was a lot to hear and a lot to say about this city, most of it not great. The settlement’s small handful of gates at the wall were guarded checkpoints. Tunnels in their own way, they posed a kind of duality between these access points into the city proper and the surrounding districts and neighborhoods that were clearly suffering the worst; neglected, abandoned, the residents left to ‘police’ themselves. As a visitor, Parean was still working out what to make of it all. Amid all of it, though, it was a night like tonight that the Neon City really shined. Lights of its nicknamesake were lit up everywhere, from the outer limits to the inner. A giant, flickering lightbulb. Those peripheral areas were simply and collectively referred to as the Peripherals. They led deeper into the city—a ring of blocks called the Buffer, an evident shorthand for “Buffer Zone”. It was a fitting name. This area was largely neutral, serving as a wedge between the Peripherals and the heart of Martial Town: the Core. The latter was its own walled district, militarized and policed by the city government’s own armed force. That left the majority policing of the Buffer to the Martial Town Police Department. There was much and more to learn about this city that never sleeps, but Parean only really needed to know that which pertained to his being here. Standing beneath the roof of the MTPD Headquarters, a complex of drenched buildings, he lowered his umbrella, content that the rest of his outfit, including his best friend of a brown trenchcoat, was hardly hit by a drop. Debating with himself whether to light up his cigarette then and there, Parean grumbled over his own refusal. A few hoodlums were looking his way as he pocketed the unlit cigarette between his lips, but they weren’t worth any effort either. On his way into town, he had learned that the crime rate of the Buffer rested somewhere in the middle between the high end of the Peripherals and the low end of the Core—it was certainly still there, a deal more so than in other settlements, but no idiot was going to start a fight outside of a police station. Of which I better waste no more time and head inside. Ambience Through the doors, Parean was greeted by the hustle and bustle of police hands just like one would be in any law enforcement station in a big city like Martial Town. Unintelligible conversations were strung together like split wires, phones were ringing like a symphony out of sync and keyboards were going tap-tap-tap amid the click-click-clack of unpolished shoes. If the lobby was this busy, the offices on all floors that exceeded ten were likely no different. “Hey, hey hey!” Parean’s brow perked at the voice of a man coming his way with rolled sleeves and a tie as loose as his own. “What’re you trying to do, drown the building!? Ezmo, get this guy a towel, will ya!?” Parean could only blink as a lobby hand, some twenty-year-old named Ezmo, chucked a towel at his face. He caught it before it hit his face but still felt confused. The speaker just stood there waiting, shaking his head, then nodding in the way that one wants to hurry someone else up. Finally, it all clicked. “Oh. Right. Sorry about that. Damn puddles.” With that, Parean went about drying off his left lower leg and the dress shoe at the base of it, though his sock would have to suffer. “Thanks. Here you go.” He chucked the wet towel back toward Ezmo. It hit his face. “SHIT! YA JERK!” Parean shrugged in apology. “All right, all right, knock it off!” The first man spoke, still standing there with his hands on his hips. Must be the bouncer around here. “Ezmo, go get those files I asked about twenty minutes ago! And make sure that pot is brewing, damn it!” He looked Parean’s way. “The hell you doing still standing there!? This is a police station. Either make a police case, or go station yourself back in the rain. I got work to do! Sheesh!” The man walked away and that was that. Parean just stood standing, his umbrella in one hand, his free hand slick with rainwater. Well, guess I better find the captain who decided that it was a smart idea to hire me as a private investigator. He had caught a job through his PI connections of a serial killer on the loose in the Buffer. It was a rainy season, and this particular animal liked to drown his victims, or so recent reports went. Parean would find out soon enough as he made his way throughout the lobby and headed toward the elevators, smelling coffee along the way. One cup. It won't hurt. No more than a wet sock.
  12. Important Links Cult of Power (CoP) Group Page The Commander's Character Sheet The Cult's Public OOC PM to officially join and be added to the Club OOC Information This thread will act as the Cult of Power's official hub thread. I won't promise it'll last forever, but should last for a good long time. The start of this Hub Thread is after the Cult's adventures in Genesaris and Renovatio are momentarily over (after the obtainment of Asteria's Crown, the Cornerstones, etc). As any hub thread, your characters can come and go. Some cool things might develop in this thread and require a storyline, or it'll just roll with the punches. Who knows! There is no required post length or posting order. Location: Delcore, Terrenus. Delcore is a medium sized city a few miles east of Hell's Gate. The Cult has a Lunar Castle taken from another group they absorbed called the Fallen which is another few miles east in the Forbidding Hills. We might go there but this thread will start in Delcore. The city itself is controlled and regulated by Paragons, but it's down in a shadow mannerism where Lilith is not involved. Many of the ruling Paragons don't even know she's in the city. What Lilith is doing in Delcore is anyone's guess. It was a weird sort of feeling, being back in Terrenus after so many months in Genesaris and Renovatio. For so long she'd been focused on accumulating power. Clawing and climbing her way to the top of the world. To a place where no one could so much as reach to the top of her toes, metaphorically speaking of course. Now, however, she was there. More or less. It didn't matter what continent she was on her what foe stood in her way; she was the peak. In a way she always had been but now she absolutely was. The gauntlet of Zengi. The soul cornerstone. The crown of Asteria. The millions of Paragons bearing her mark. The raw, bottomless well of energy constantly stirring through her very being. She'd reached the goal. Now what? Get rid of my past lives? Perhaps. Easier said than done though, or at least one of the previous Lunar Daughters would have already done it. Instead it was almost like they feared the possibility that she'd break the link. As if they had never even considered doing it. Which was probably true. Lilith was a monster even among monsters. Leaning back she crossed one leg over the other and released a sigh, tapping her index finger on the rim of "her" beer mug. One of the men in the tavern had brought her a drink. If she understood correctly, he was hitting on her. It was almost funny, really. Put a whole new meaning on flirting with death. The large man had taken a seat next to her, not put off even a little by the red gleam of her eyes or the stink of death that stuck to her like bad karma. Probably that she was a vampire. Or some sort of undead. Maybe he even knew she was a necromancer and just didn't particularly care. He certainly didn't know who she was though. What she was and who she was, though intrinsically linked, tended to have much different impacts on people. Still... maybe this was what was next for her? Now that was a funny idea. Even the voices of her past lives chuckled in the depths of her mind. Yeah. Right. "So pretty lady," the man slurred, reaching out to sling a hand around her shoulder. "What can I do you for?" A question. A fucking question. Why did mortals ask so many questions? "You are either an absolute fucking moron," Lilith answer with such venom that the man blinked and nearly physically recoiled, "or your inebriation makes you an extremely horrible judge of character."
  13. Good can only triumph when someone stands up to the darkness and shouts defiantly into the void. Illyana read that somewhere, though the title of it now escapes her best attempts at recollection. Regardless of where it came from, the words still held truth within them. It has become her mission to follow these words, and to defy the darkness with every fiber of her being. There was a knock upon her door, and a voice calling out. "My Lady, are you ready?" "Yes, Maria, I am ready." Since waking from her fitful dreams she has been praying to Gaia, hoping for insight and guidance towards the goals she has set out for herself. As always, guidance was difficult to come by from a metaphysical being, but she was confident Gaia heard her prayers, for she had welcomed the goddess into her heart completely. With the support of her matron deity, the young Lady of House Uldwar felt she could withstand any storm, walking out of her chambers with confidence and pride. This is to be the day the light returned to the islands, and people could feel hope once again within their hearts, even with everything around them being so difficult and trying. Accompanying her was her bodyguard, selected personally by her father, meaning it was one of the members of the intimidating Dogs of War. His name was Sir Aron Redford, a reserved man that showed great spirit when roused into worship of the earth goddess. A paladin he may be, Sir Redford could still be just as savage as the rest of them, that much she knew by the order's reputation alone. Hopefully he could restrain himself during their time of charity and giving back to the community. "Lady Uldwar." Sir Redford said as they exited the Keep. "Why are you dressed so plainly? Do you feel you must be disguised while out in the streets?" Instead of her usual fine clothing, Illyana had chosen simple white linens that made her look more of a healer than a noble. "During this time, Sir Redford, I am going to be very close to sick and injured people. Jewelry and silks get in the way of trying to mend those suffering, don't you think?" Nodding, Sir Redford began detailing the other details of her protection detail. "We have hired extra protection for you today, Lady Uldwar. They will be here within the hour when the boat arrives. We have also received word that a shipment of grain was coming in from Corinth, from a vassal of House Hildebrand." "Send word to the pier that shipment is to come directly to the temple without delay. The De'Laire family have been very generous to provide food for the needy people of Ursa Madeum, they deserve to travel unmolested." Gaining the support of others was a blessing, and she had made many promises to make it up to them for their help. Payments already given, and now they simply had to await it's arrival. "Yes, my Lady." When their walk had ended, Illyana and her group had arrived at the temple erected just recently, welcomed by the priests who made this place their home. Knights spread out to form a defensive line, Sir Redford staying by the noblewoman's side for protection, and Illyana went to work preparing the set up. "People are already starting to come in. We need food and drink ready for consumption, fresh bandages and wine ready to boil. From what I understand the bugbears of this island are going to be coming here as well, so keep your fears to yourself or else you'll give them the wrong idea." Human, elf, goblin, all deserved the love and grace of Gaia. By Her will, Illyana intended on sparking a new wave of religious conversions, and to save the souls of the people on these islands.
  14. •TABLE of CONTENTS • Special Thanks to: @paradigm & @Armada for Creations Arachnid's Eye Cathartic Trigger Chimera Deadshot, The Decay Blades ( owned, Syncopy 'Roku' ) Dragonslayer Eye of the World Father Time Fenrisulfr [ sought by Chappu, 10/2017 ] Flechette Highwind, The [ sought by dvsn, 11/2017 ] Jormungandr [ sought by Alexei, 10/2017 ] Minotaur, The ( owned, THE_BULL 'Bull' ) Nosferatu PFC | Physical Earth PFC | Soul Harvest Radiant Mantle [ sought by Chappu, 11/2017 ] Raijin Reaper's Eye RS | Riva's Wand RS | Riva's Staff RS | Riva's Axe RS | Riva's Greatsword ( owned, paradigm 'Grievous' ) RS | Riva's Dagger RS | Riva's Short Sword Roads to Ruin Sacred Moulding Pen Sanctus & Malus Temporal Nail Witchcraft & Wizardry Specialized Items: Tellus Seeds Alternate Reality [non-combative] [RS | Riva's Battle Set] If a player has two pieces of the set (or more), each weapon from there on out gains +1 to Preps held as the strength of the Crystal is increased by proximity. If a player has three pieces of the set (or more), each weapon gains an additional +1 to attacks. If a player has four pieces of the set (or more), the player may then create a SLOT ABILITY for each weapon—these are 'taught' abilities that can be used on command without draining the player's talent pool, mana, or fatiguing the player. Lastly, if you are reading this and you are disinterested because the +1's to various things like 'attacks' don't appeal to your style of combat (T1 over Dice NPC), then you may take the liberty to modify the present status to reflect something more T1. e.g. Instead of additional +1 to attacks, you gain a rush of energy which allows you to strike more ferociously. It's the same thing, worded without the notion of dice. You get the idea. Same goes for any other sets or items you will find here. The Dice System is not mandatory or forced. NEW DISCLAIMER RULE! (Initiated: 10NOV2017) If it has been more a month since the last post, you can contact a prime-GM of Alterion [ @Syncopy, @paradigm, @Aleksei ] and request to seek the artifact or legendary someone else has been attempting to claim, but has gone stagnant. A.) Chances are, we will permit you to start unless we know of the variable circumstances of the player's situation and they have expressed a holding pattern or wait time. B.) That being said: If you are having life issues, problems posting, internet/phone issues, or otherwise have something in your life that is troubling you to the point that you cannot currently post, but it may be temporary—let one of the aforementioned know so that we can hiatus your thread(s) and let others know if something has arisen! Communicate and you will be covered (unless the reasoning is trash). C.) A & B being said: if the first user comes back after the month has been passed and a new user has started their quest, the first cannot stop them from claiming it (exemptions: RoE—Izral) and must wait until they either claim it or lapse as the first did and continue their original thread. D.) After 3 months of stagnant posting, your name will be removed from the OP for seeking and a new thread will be required to be started (unless stated otherwise by a GM).
  15. WELCOME TO THE REVERIE BALL! On the night of December 25th the castle of Andelusia opens its doors to all citizens of Valucre, far and wide, to come mingle and dance! The floor of the castle and the courtyard outside are all available for public usage. In all rooms there is music playing, each room playing a different song. Perhaps even a different type of music. Spectacular food is served in every room, though the Dining Room is where the most magnificent food rests. From snacks to full meals, everything someone would want lays upon the table. Despite the main food on the table is from Ursa Madeum and Taen, the side food comes from throughout Valucre. Those who participated in the ANT conferences would recognize the castle. However, this time, every room was decked in blue and green decorations. At least one unlit cauldron had been put in each room, some surrounded by wrapped presents without labels. The same day an announcement was sent out to the public and to those allied with Taen Empire. It stated that starting from the 25th of December, the Taen Empire would no longer be referred to as the Taen Empire. As of now, the Empire is switching to the name Veluriyam Empire. Although not known to the public, those with connections in Veluriyam Empire might discover the Veluriyam is a Mork'Outh word for Open Sky. Within the hour of opening the castle filled. Emperor Titus stands in the Sun Room, a glass of wine in his hands as he leans against the wall while he speaks to some Renovation dignitaries. The Ballroom is where Princess Teresa finds herself, dancing with one of her guards but keeping an eye out for someone not on her father's payroll. Someone not lame. Green means open; red means closed. @Tyler @Eternity @supernal @KittyvonCupcake @notmuch_23 @vielle @LikelyMissFortune @danzilla3 @Sleepy Seal @Grubbistch @Alexei @Witches Brew @Praetorian
  16. There was a forgotten time within Bairville, where a beautiful performance was once held. A time when a desert flower opened her heart through music and dance, blossoming pedals of joyous freedom and mythical talent. Gold streamed from the hypnotic bends of her caramel fingers, rhythm surreally rolled from a body possessed by the ocean. Her rolling hips were waves, slithering and gliding with marvelous grandeur, and the bending arch of her back cascaded her tresses like falls of great water. In this forgotten moment where mystical dreams manifested into reality before a mesmerized audience, this nameless flower was permeated in ecstasy. She crossed the ties of the mundane and extraordinary. broke the barriers between heaven and earth. And as the melody embraced and made love to her soul, she felt the true purity of freedom through dance. But as with the fate of all purity, wickedness cast its chains and shattered the music. It ensnared her dance and purloined her freedom. The flower was shut away, into darkness. With time, the precious existence was forgotten. The sun of the Velhatein Desert settled behind ascending mounds of drought laden earth. Its licentious fingers extended across the sky and made the clouds blush. Beyond and below the vaporous display, there was naught but shadows thickening into black. The ebony shrouded the shapes of the landscape, cursing the daylight colors into ambiguous contours that broke the horizon like broken backs of fallen soldiers. Truly they were broken skeletons of prehistoric creatures. Within this aphotic landscape, the twinkle of a lone campfire dared to take a stand. Sitting within its rebellious orbs of amber, was the forgotten desert flower. Reflection of the embers licked up her endless raven streaks, shimmering off the silk textures whilst teasing her desert toned skin with whimsical light. Rusted chains rattled from her bound minuscule wrists, slithering to the rims of her ankles. Her face was down, forehead nestled into the curve of her folded knees, and through that curtain of locks, piercing blue eyes stared aimlessly. Her nude lips were agape and breathed soundlessly, her breasts heaved and compressed into the cushion of her thighs, and beneath its cavity, a heart pumped. Yet her eyes, the lack of luster and vibrancy, revealed nothing but death. Three men heavily clothed in Saharan attire also rested around the flames, their dirty hands breaking off pieces of stale bread and shoving it into their mouths. They were quiet, most of their faces covered in scarves with slits of food and sight. Their eyes were cold and irritated, burdened by lights wrinkles suggesting their middle age and chaffed from desert winds. “This is the last of our provisions, we will not be able to stay in the mountain for long,” said one of them as he finished his bread his voice as gruff and scratched as his fingers. “We are also low on gold, how much longer before our contact returns with word of the rebellion?” “It was supposed to be three days ago, something must have happened.” A silence fell over the men again, the diminutive rattling of chains suggesting the imprisoned woman had moved. “The king only has another week before we punish his lack of compliance. It's been two weeks now, and we’ve had her for a month now." “He’s being a stubborn old fool, he will respond. We just have to wait.” “We have to find a way to make a coin if we are to survive another week. If we steal too much, it will draw unnecessary attention from law enforcers.” “Perhaps there is another way,” one of the men turned slowly towards the woman, eyeing her for a long moment. “The people of Genesaris are unlikely to recognize her. Perhaps we can use her to our advantage…” The chains rattled again, the forgotten woman lifted her head. Deep hues shifted to gaze at the men through descending bangs, a spark of life twinkling distantly within her once dead sea. When dawn broke over the world the following morning, flyers floated around the Yum Janus tavern near the outskirts of Joran City. They found their ways into people’s things, under their bags and pillows, and even tucked within their pockets. Upon the parchment were words of golden ink, cursive with living streams of light within the letters. Come witness the spectacle of a woman enchanted by a grace and beauty you have never seen. Witness the rare advent of people from the Velhaltein Desert. Her mesmerizing movements will seduce your dreams to reality. She will purloin the tribulations that haunt your mind for a single night. Come, and be blessed at midnight, by The Dance of the Desert Flower. The word spread rapidly. Mere mystery of how the parchment found its way into the most protected of spots allured people to the tavern. It was in the rear of the edifice, a circle of torches scattered through the empty plain. Their glows shed delicate light upon what appeared to be an unremarkable platform of an reflective ebony mineral. The full moon was out, its virgin glows eerily shimmering in streaks across the silvery sheen, intermingling with the flashing quips of the reflected flames.
  17. “Ah, you can’t find freedom like this anywhere,” Fawkes thought to herself. She was soaring over the windswept sands of the Badlands and the thermal updrafts were perfect this time of day. The wind rustled in the brown, black and white feathers of her 6-foot wingspan. Though the Badlands were extremely inhospitable to outsiders, it was home to Fawkes. She was one of the few Avians left in Valucre, as most of them thought that the world had become too populated with cities and settlements for them to be able to fly free. Her small tribe, consisting now of her brother and his family and a few of the other young Avians, moved to the Badlands after Odin Haze’s attack on Blaurg Mountain where they had been living for nearly four generations. But the move was not easy, they left Blaurg Mountain with 15 and now there were only 10. Some abandoned the group and flew back to the mountains and the flight out of Valucre and some were lost to the harshness of the Badlands. They created their own sort of nomadic tribe and even managed to befriend the Mahrjan tribe and setup a loose trade network with them. The Shai-leuth elders believed that the Avians were warriors of Gaia because their wings allowed them to be closer to the light of her glory. But today she was out enjoying one of the cooler parts of the day and seeing if she could spot anything worth trying to hunt. Fawkes was the best hunter in the flock, her keen Avian eyes were like those of a hawk and could pick out even the smallest prey, she almost always managed to bring something back for the flock even during the most extreme parts of the year. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something glint from the sand, she banked her wings and wiped the dust from her goggles. Beneath her she saw a sand-rat foraging through the sunbaked earth. Unlike normal rats, sand-rats were as big as wolves and had even worse tempers. Fawkes grabbed the Vakar spear from her back, flew up higher and then dove. She tucked her wings close to her back and felt the wind blow through her hair and sand sting her face. As she neared the ground, she snapped open her wings and threw her spear. The rat let out a long shriek and bared its teeth as the long double-sided blade buried itself in its side. She flew toward the sand-rat and pulled her spear from its side. In one swift motion she pirouetted in the air and slashed upward with her spear. The sand-rat let out a gargled scream and toppled over. “Not a bad catch. This will be great for tonight,” Fawkes said as she began cutting up her prize. The sun was beginning to set, and Fawkes knew that she would need to get back to the camp before even more rats came above ground. Stuffing the last of the meat and useful parts into her bag Fawkes took off and flew back to camp.
  18. Rebellious Rose (Inn) Another bar type of establishment that also provides as an Inn for any weary travelers. Matching much of the towns design as a medieval establishment, the inn is yet another establishment with good food, great drink, and a lively atmosphere. There are 20 rooms in the upstairs, each fit with a bathroom with a bathtub/shower, a television, and a mini bar. There is a telephone to call for room service is needed, which is considered within the cost of room rental. The inn was previously managed by the Captain/Knight of the guard, Lawrence, but has recently been bought over by Kyle 'Angel' Sander, the last of the Pegasi. Unlike in the Tavern of Legend, the staff here work tirelessly to clean up the messes of their patrons, sometimes simple things like shattered plates, but at others entire holes in the walls or craters in the ground. The center of excitement and pleasure is the pub, where several velvety chairs surround brown wood tables. The lighting is romantic, and meditation music is constantly played through a disk. The Rebellious Rose is a great base for adventurers to spend their nights at when out questing in the morning. The Inn has two unique features, namely a gambling den manned by a retired bounty hunter, Connor Fortesque, and a sparring room. If adventurers wish to spar, they can enter the room as they wish. The walls are enchanted with Dark Energy, causing one's soul to be extracted from their body upon entry and returned upon leaving. This allows sparring combatants to incur no injuries, except maybe to the mind. The staff are still experimenting with new ways to make soul combat safer for patrons. Staff Kyle "Angel" Sander - Owner @Crossbone Edric Carter - Manager @CrimsonAurora Rachel Azraelian - Sparring Room Supervisor @Alternative Connor Fortesque - Gambling Room Supervisor @Sapphire Blue Alyssa Cooper - Bartender @Alyssa Coops
  19. The small village of Frostfall sat between the borders of what had once been Ballard Bay and the Cold South. While its appearance was rather rustic, it had been one of the more recent villages to receive the full weight of the Corvinite’s technological support and advancements. Provided with electricity and running water, the hope was to raise the quality of life. All to gain the favor of the people, showing them that the Imperial government under Neronius valued them as much as they valued their own. So far, it seemed to have been working, whatever unrest that did happen was minimal, at best. The places a favorable light on the man known as Neronius and the vast imperium as a whole. Snow still clung to the southern reaches, pristine white blanketed the surrounding grounds and the rooftops. While to the North the snows had already begun to melt, if only in the areas where the snow could reach; thawing the ground and readying itself for the planting season. Here, such was not the case. The snows took longer to melt, and in the extreme south, still fell. Spring came slowly here, and did not last overlong. It was short and rainy, which presented its own problems. Still the people here survived, and were some of the most hardy people in Genesaris. It was in this village that Blackwatch had found itself, their first mission since abandoning Patia and its unworthy monarch. It had been through a contact of his own that he had managed to swiftly move away from Terrenus. Not only from under the Patian king’s own nose, but the noses of his own men. They didn’t know why he had ordered them to the eastern coast of Terrenus, believing that is was another independant mission. It was only after collecting all of them in one room, with sigils and wards for privacy and protection; that he revealed his intentions. They had been shocked to say the least. Many had already grown tired of the king’s ways, his lack of action. Others it had taken some convincing, but ultimately they too saw this as a chance to do something of worth. They all knew of Corvinus, the former Roanist knight that had defected to Orisia, then ultimately too moved on. Building his own throne and empire in his image. Not only had he already accomplished such a great feat, he had moved to make so much more. For soldiers without confidence in a cause, or a worthy monarch; this was an attractive place. So here they had come. The entire Blackwatch Company had rented out the massive inn at the center of town, the mayor's own business. They had also rented out quite a few other homes that had been empty since the Whispernight. It was here that Llewelyn, Captain of the Blackwatch Company; resided with the numerous other officer.He sat at a long table, a map stretched out before him depicting the entire region. They had been sent here after being refitted, this was to be a chance to prove their seriousness and ability. Simple though it was, this Monster Hunt was a valuable political tool for Neronius. He had already made plans to mobilize several units to travel around the countryside, sending regular messages of where a large grouping of monsters or beasts were spotted. Then they would group together as one and smash them. Now he simply waited for the officers of important to join him, as well as a few newer members. Two young girls. One the daughter of his contact, the other quite the esteemed one. Princess Novalie, the daughter of Corvinus. Why he would have her sent to him was a mystery, perhaps a show of trust. Or a test. Either way it didn’t matter. He sat back in his chair, armored arms crossed before his chest. He was a handsome man, stern in jaw, long black hair swept back. He had an eye patch, covering the damaged socket from an orc long ago. His appearance made the locals wary enough not to approach his table. @Aleksei @Maverick
  20. 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
  21. 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..."
  22. Hello and greetings I’ve recently been accepted here and am in need of practicing for possible para rp. This will be my first time doing such a style.What I need is just a small amount of character info and a picture if you are able.Name:Age:Hight:Weight:Eyes:Race:Alliance:Force talents:The primary focus in the beginning will be to see to it that as certain someone gets off Kamino for each of our characters to survive. “Mayday.. mayday... A cloacked man rascally coughs up a little more blood and gasps. “mayday.. calling the Kamino system for.. for emergency medical..” he coughed a bit more. “support.. turning on auto pilot..." A bright red light flickers as he flips a few switches. Upon landing on the platform in the dark and stormy night blood from the wounded male rushes with the water and off the platform. Before passing out from wounds mixed with the damaged armor and the salty rain water he looks at Y/C and asks "and who.. are you?". The worrier collapses and is taken to emergency care by 2 clone troopers.I apologize if if this is really shallow I did come from a Facebook page.
  23. Treason is not something that is birthed overnight. Like anything worth doing well, it demands time, patience and (above all else) discretion. The Blood of the Light began as little more than a cult of personality, centered around the High Mason, Ocelot Royce, and devoted to seeing his agenda established throughout all of Alterion. It was a subtle shift in power, with the elder Masons more entrenched in religious dogma relocated to outer territories. The militant figures within the Masonry already stood steadfast with Ocelot, many having served alongside him during the ork wars. Winning them to a cause that shone a deific light upon proved a simple task and with the faith militant at their back the Blood of the Light soon found themselves the Majority within the halls of the Cathedral. It was worth noting that the Masons had not been worth serving for several decades before Ocelot came along. Their devotion to religious dogma gave way to the greed and corruption typical of those so accustomed to power that they couldn't fathom losing it. His rise to power merely brought the corruption to light. It occurred without warning, absent the pomp and circumstance accustomed to most happenings within the Cathedral. At no particular hour of no particular day, the Crystal spoke and all of Riva’s children felt it in their bones. Word spread from within the house the Masons built as far as the remote Izrali hovels that a terrible creature of staggeringly impossible dimensions eclipsed the sun and darkened the sky for a full minute before disappearing into the Skar. In that brief span of time, nations rose and fell; those territories considering rebellion against the Masons either committed to the Church or made ready for a fight of biblical proportions. With the ‘end of days’ having come and gone, the Masons found their stranglehold over the Alterion populace, a far more precarious grip than anticipated. Viktus Gallin, heir apparent to Ocelot Royce and formerly a figure in open rebellion against the Masons was welcomed by the Blood of the Light as their messiah—for he, amongst all others, had been hand picked by Ocelot as his successor. The schism within the church was only further complicated by Viktus’ reappearance within the Cathedral —many of the clergy having called for his execution only a short time ago. At the very least Viktus’ rise to power was no less controversial than that of his foster father’s own. Now in a position to seize the throne,Viktus and his allies seek to oust the church of any traitors have begun to ‘purge the heretics’ from their ranks. The blood of traitors must feed the earth.
  24. 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.
  25. THE MADAME LINDA LINDA A village somewhere in the Great North of Whispernight... There was a woman, who fancied calling herself the Madame. Recent events led her to the possession of a powerful artifact, the legendary blade known as Baeoi. She was rather distressed with the blade's lack of redeeming qualities as she expected its full might to be fully unleashed once it was claimed by her. Sadly this never came to be as the legendary blade was but the shadow of her former glory. This prompted her to somewhat work on the blade itself, learning its secrets and perhaps unlock its full potential. The blade, however, would have to wait as the Madame was made to wait as well. Waiting for perhaps some assistance? She was in Whispernight after all, and the eldritch hordes that plague this land were too much for a weak and defenseless lady like herself. This is why she needed some assistance. This is why she is at the local tavern, sitting at a lonely corner while sipping tea. Sitting on her lap was the legendary blade, Baeoi itself, sheathed and sealed. She will learn more of its secrets once she started doing what she does best, vanquishing beasts. In this case, however, the Madame was about to eliminate as many of those eldritch abominations lying in those hills as much as possible. She might even get an Exalta crystal or two but she would not count on it. For now, she must be patient for the arrival of her helpers. She did send out a request after all. @Flame Hero: Endeavor
×
×
  • Create New...