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  1. “We got news from our informant” Selene said right after walking into Ricardo’s office. “Mariana’s checked it and its legit”. “What’s it say?” Ricardo asked almost unconcerned. “We found their hideout!” Ricardo’s lips twisted upwards revealing a twisted smile. “Good. Get them, and make sure no rat leaves there… alive” They had spent several weeks on this case, trying to find the hideout of the rats what had been disturbing their supply routes. The search proved misleading on several occasions, but finally, they had actually found the real hideout they had been looking for. It was in a small town to the south of Nu Sicily by the name of Reaven. The town had always had a relatively small population, but this value dropped drastically after the invasion of Nu Martyr by CoP. Now, only a few hundreds above two thousand live there trying to meet their daily needs. With a glance, the twin sisters could see why the rats had chosen this place as a hideout. Selene and Mariana gazed over the town from a hill atop their horses. With them were about 20 men loyal to the Gualtiero family. Mariana turned her horse to face the men before issuing her final orders before the mission would officially begin. “Our mission is simple, investigate. I want you all to search the town through and through report any rat you can find. While doing this, you need to try as much as possible not to arouse suspicion, else they may get a hint that we’re here for them and make our jobs harder. You’ll split into teams of 4 for this. We have the town completely surrounded, so if any rat tries to escape they’ll get nabbed quickly. Remember, your orders are to search and report. If you find a rat you can capture, then do so and squeeze every bit of information you can out of him. When you’re done… kill him” marina said ending the last part in an emotion-void tone. “Move out” Selene chipped in after Mariana had finished her speech. She then turned to her sister, “Shall we?” Both rode on into town with a determination as strong as steel, and a bloodlust as sharp as a double edged sword.
  2. Ataraxy

    [GS] Gemini

    ・・・】 God: Gemini ・・・】 God Slayer: Me (Ataraxy) ・・・】 OOC: Thread Gemini, though having lost the strength that made him a god above mortals due to the Grand Kommadant, nonetheless attempts to serve his duty as a God. A protector. Having seen the effects of Paragons in Nu Martyr, Gemini comes crashing into the province. He might not be able to grow into indefinite portions within this new, limited body but that doesn't mean he won't still make giants look like ants. With his absurd strength, Gemini summons enormous boulders from the divine realm and hurls them down toward his enemies. In a rage for all the good Renovations that died in the invasion of outsiders, Gemini attempts to vanquish all before him.
  3. This is the walk way, in middle of forest, since Union Capital to Cold South. But the mark on map is Nak' spot, i mean. My character Atwood Nak made his campsite on there. Everyone can use this for rp in this part of the forest... So... The rp starts below this post:
  4. Welcome to King Milorian’s coronation masquerade ball! OOC: Things to Note: A Council of Dryads from the Free Marches are holding a meeting in the garden to discuss the current state of nature of Ursa Madeum. They are open to inquiries and are partial to acorns. The Lounge has been occupied by a group of dwarves who are far into their cups for the night. They are holding an arm-wrestling competition; the winner gets a prize. Participants: Open How-to: Dice Rolling Thread - Look at the result for the D2. If a 1 is rolled, you won! If a 2 is rolled, then you lose that round. There will be 3 rounds per-participant. You need a 2/3 win to get the prize. A mourning fairy has taken advantage of the famous festivities. Its victims experience sudden feelings of grief, and if the fairy is not caught, the grief can turn one mad. Catch the fairy and receive a reward. A witch is dropping elemental rune stones around the castle! These stones can be used to enchant weapons, armor, or yourself; only two stones per participant, please. Stones: wind, water, fire, earth Layout: Red is off limits; Green is open Milorian felt extremely uncomfortable; Milorian looked extremely uncomfortable. He wasn't exactly sure what his attitude should be towards the gathered individuals, and it left him feeling adrift among the large crowd. To his right was Primera all dazzling in her glamour and dress; to his left was an emptiness he felt right down to his very core. Birdy was not there to accompany him during this rather momentous - strange - moment in their lives. When he was made King, she was made his Queen; he hates to think what her absence will cause. On the other hand, he was pleased that she was hidden somewhere, safe and comfortable. He was not going to burden her with superficial gestures that could risk her comfort and health. Comfortably married for a short time, the two had maintained a sense of privacy from the moment they took vows in silence. It worried him that there may be a demand they marry in front of the entirety of Ursa Madeum, just to ensure that neither were manipulating their position and power by lying to their fellow citizens. The elf prayed they'd leave Birdy alone. At least he can speak of his wife; there had been a few compliments towards his attire. Birdy, Primera, and Odelia had ambushed him with options of different suits that would fit his newly acquired position, though he doesn't know why. Whatever opinion he had about the attire was quickly swept aside by one of the women. It took them four days to decide on a simple black suit void of any embellishments - four. days. When it was time for the masquerade, they threw a cape over his right shoulder that carried the Mythal wolf and pinned the fabric with a variety of golden chains that now hung from his shoulder. He hated it, but he had no opinion. Primera was rude enough to point out he was blind, so it didn't matter what he thought since he can't see. "You're a rather quiet host, my King." Primera dragged the sour-faced elf to the dance floor that was overly crowded with excitable company. He had to right himself when she manipulated him to hold her irresponsibly close, but the lack of space on the dance floor made it impossible to be appropriate. Without much choice, he was forced into a quickstep that shook a few laughs from his dry lungs and drew a smile across his usually tight features. "There you are! Such a handsome King should smile, it'll make the ladies weak." Milo rolled his sapphire eyes, not sure if he should feel complimented or not. He didn't care if the people should find him handsome or not, what mattered was what they thought of his behavior and his actions. Though he understood the small spread of truth behind her evaluation; a kind and thoughtful individual on the throne could sway the uneasiest of hearts, as first impressions do matter. Being an elf sitting on a somewhat changeable throne, a smile and some kindness could do him some good. "I suppose I can smile every now and then," he said begrudgingly. The two made it out alive and took refuge on the outskirts of the dancing crowd. Unable to hide it, there were flecks of pride in his blind gaze as he "watched" the elves of his land mingle with the rest of the crowd. The normality of the sight was endearing, he never really expected such a thing to happen yet always yearned for it. Such an amazing view was exemplified by the laughter, the teasing, and the general conversation coming from differing individuals. Even if it's just for now, even if it's just for show, he can take these small triumphs and covet them when needed. Primera looked up at the elf who was clearly lost in the moment. Teasingly, she elbowed the gentleman, knocking him down back to earth. "You are a regal sort, you know. Seeing you as you are, in all your kingly glory, it's a marvel." "You keep feeding me these compliments, and I'll become fat on pride." "Oh? Is that why your belt is cinched extra tight?" The Grand Kommadant reached down and pulled at his elaborate belt all shiny in gold and jewels. Aghast, the elf slapped her hand away - a handsy woman! "I beg your pardon, my lady, but it's not very ... lady-like to just grab at a man's belt." "I beg your pardon my King, but that all depends on the gentleman." They were in a public place with eyes already drawn to their playfulness, the last thing he needs is this pompous woman speaking far too candidly for her own good. Damn her! He could see a few individuals hiding their smiles behind sips of wine and the flush of fans; they were going to talk, and it's all her fault. He certainly did not help the situation by laughing behind his gloved hand, the terrible attempt only exasperated the crude comment. The masquerade was to introduce him to the rest of society and open the doors for conversation. He did not want to talk politics, he barely wanted to acknowledge his newly acquired title, but he understood that parties as these are opportunities to get your foot in the door. With the party currently gliding towards its peak, Milorian has spoken to many people who have all welcomed him and nothing more. He was grateful that, at least for a moment, his people can enjoy a single night of celebration without any underhandedness. "I hate you," he finally said. He couldn't see it, but he certainly could tell that she was beaming. Which she was, from ear to ear, her smile reached; opal hues glittered and glowed with amusement behind the elaborate mask she wore.
  5. (Lock this thread please I am no longer interest in this.)
  6. sweet as cherry wine ; The wedding ceremony is one to be remembered for all who attend. It comes from the old traditions of the royal house, one taken from their roots as a family forged from war, and even from those distant ancestors beyond the shimmering seas. The vows were taken from a time when they had to raise warriors, and so marriage is to be a union that shares all. Marriage is to be celebrated through three aspects: mind, body, and soul. Here is the joining; here is where two become one. The soul speaks, bringing forth life and death in equal measure. Love is nothing without the capacity to share what is within. They speak promises, first. The Queen takes her husband’s hands in her own, clasped together as they declare their ties to one another, what the inner core within has to say for everyone around to hear. He tells her he adores her in all the languages he knows, some foreign even to her own cultured ears, and that vulnerable heart in her chest clutches tight, hard enough to squeeze the air out of her lungs. She repays in kind, in full, in counterpart. She may not be able to speak all the words heard around the world, but she can tell him she loves him. Even something as simple as that. It is no hardship. The mind deliberates, solving all problems it encounters. Love is nothing without the wits to understand and to adapt. Here, the couple presents each other a conundrum of their own making, one for the other to solve in their own time. It has been prepared long before the ceremony, these puzzles borne as products of their own thinking and devising, and the moment is merely a formality to be shown to the rest of the world. The Queen cannot help her smile when her husband reveals he has solved hers from the moment she had given it to him; she has long conceded that he is a more worldly soul than she will ever be. They are of one mind, of one will, of one judgment now. Where one’s thoughts go, the other follows; there can be no misgivings where there is an all-encompassing virtue of understanding. The body overcomes, thriving against all odds. Love is nothing without a vessel to have and to hold. The Queen places her hands on her husband’s shoulders, shivers when he drags his fingers up her arm to mirror her: slowly, teasingly. As practiced many times before, they kneel down on their knees, bowing before each other as lovers, as equals. They will share in all and may share of themselves to others, but in this aspect, the body can be devoted to only their other half, in this lifetime and whatever may be to come. Amidst the quiet murmurings of blessings and oaths spoken in their honor, they touch their foreheads together, and in the final echoes of the last words, they bind themselves with the final act of a kiss. They have shared many kisses before this moment, but here: here is a kiss that feels like a beginning, or the first rays of sunshine, or a brand new dawn. They are man and wife. Queen and her King Consort. Varda places the raven crown twin of her own coronet upon her husband’s brow and names him her right hand, her master and servant in equal measure. She looks on into the deafening crowd—and holds on to Quinton’s hand just a little bit tighter than before. BRIGHTSTONE MANOR > CAL ETERIS click to enlarge. map credits to @Csl a little night music ; Brightstone Manor is a stunning sight in the cool spring evening, glittering lanterns and elaborate glass chandeliers brightening up the night as a sea of visitors come to the shores of the wedding party grounds. It has only been newly opened to the public as a luxurious event center, its opulent space inaugurated by the extravagant banquet of the Queen herself, of all people, and so the staff of the castle are at their very best behavior. Every speck of dust is banished to the ether, every piece of silverware polished to shining glory, and the food and drink are served in a generous overflow. The dining room is full of tables laden with plates filled to the brim with delicious food: prime fare for any food lover’s tastes, both gourmet and gourmand alike. Sweet music fills the halls, an underlying backdrop to harmonize well with the constant bouts of conversation flitting in the air. The Queen and her husband are happily welcomed by the crowd upon their arrival to the castle, taking their place at the head of the Great Hall where they greet guests and thank them for attending. The siblings of House Hildebrand flit around the halls in scattered groups: Jasper and his family are in the study, Aspen and Esme are dancing joyously in the Great Hall, and Nairne and Merel are playing chess together in the game room. It has been an eventful long day, and yet, the clock has yet to strike seven in the evening. The night is young, and so there is more that remains to be seen in the hours to come. . . • • •
  7. (I am lifting the play write format for this project and I want to make another community effort here. ALL are welcome. I'm going to try to make most of my development projects be inclusive to everyone or as many people who wish to join. If the party gets big enough at some point I am going to follow a very loose turn order. Note upon thinking about things from a progression/personal lore stand point this thread takes place AFTER the one I just finished so I don't drive my head canon too batty. The thread that takes place before this current project is linked here: And yeah now we got a chronology going yo LOL.) Day 1- The house was run down at one point. Velindrel and Magdalene helped rebuild the house with their own hands, keeping busy, finding the parts and pieces they needed from the wild lands around Casper proper. Velindrel's blacksmith arts came into full use there. He made the various things with his own hands that were needed at his wife's guidance. They were both hard workers, most of Casper's citizens were. He looked at the house for a long moment, it had come a long way since Magdalene had returned to him that day. He nodded in approval. Velindrel: It has been a long time indeed. But it's nice to have some place to call home...our home. He rubbed his chin for a thoughtful moment. Magdalene, we've cleaned the place up really well. Our daughter would have liked living here. Magdalene: She looked up towards her taller husband, her companion. We have done well. She would have liked it here, I agree with you. I have also been working on my own studies. Velindrel: There is plenty to do here in Casper. I think you have found a good calling at the hospital especially with people arriving from Aspyn. Reminds me, I will like to explore the ruins someday. He found for a moment as he considered the possibility of looting the ruins. Would that make me any different than a common thief? He shook his head. No...that will be a journey for another time. Magdalene: Let us establish ourselves here in Casper first. We'll have other times to travel. Velindrel: He nodded towards her. Home. He said for no reason at all. Magdalene: You know that's the first time I have heard you call anywhere "Home" and mean it. Velindrel: It is the first time in a long time I have thought of as anywhere being home. The shadow passed across his face again. Magdalene: That's happening far more often now. She suddenly said. Velindrel: What do you mean? Magdalene: She touched his face calmly. There is a shadow in there my love, that was not there before. I am going to help you someday be rid of it...as long that takes to do so. I don't like to know that you are suffering especially if I can do something about it. He considered carefully what he was hearing. He had not been aware that it was affecting him that much...their daughter's murder. (This project is a primarily a social thread BUT we can take the change to use The Star Forge ESPECIALLY if I beat the odds here and it becomes canon. Thank you to all who decide to participate and help me out. You guys are a great bunch.)
  8. (I am able to commit full time to this sit eat this point. Especially since I have a new computer now, and yeah. If you are interested in joining this thread please MESSAGE me before joining. It's purely a trade/crafting style thread I'm trying to test a few ideas of inspiration I had.) "Again." The maester said calmly. The thousandth, strike, without a single pause for rest from the student. An old and forgotten soul, hungry for study of ancient arts crafts. The strike was perfected, damned near flawless. The furnace like work space was hot, almost like a blazing inferno. Since the elf had arrived, he'd never once complained and did every shit duty the old maester conjured for him. He was finally allowed to touch anvil and hammer a few weeks prior. He'd been there for the past fifty years of his life...time flowed different for his kind and he was gifted with old age. "Try it this way, instead of the way you're doing it." The maester said calmly. "Technique and balance comes with discipline don't try to think you have style yet. I took you on as an apprentice when you first arrived here, at Casper and you've never once bitched about anything. I like that about you. Most students bitch, you're a hard worker." He said with a gruff chuckle. The entire time, Velindrel struck with his hammer. Ten thousand, ten thousand 1...it didn't matter. He would do everything he was tasked to do because he desired knowledge, it was the way of his people to do so. The clanging sound of his hammer against the anvil, struck like thunder in the back of Velindrel's mind. He'd come to Casper running from his past and perhaps found something more...perhaps he'd found his purpose. "What time is it?" The maester suddenly asked and looked at an old clock. "Finish your studies for the day and you're free to go home." Velindrel finished well into the afternoon that day having completed the blade of the dagger he was working on. To say he was a hard worker would have underminded the entire truth of it...he was one who was obsessive about every detail, every aspect of the craft. He'd cleaned up and reorganized the work space as he'd done every time he left it for years now by that point...it was routine. He took a look at the old brass furnace...a reminder of past memories and past lives. "He likes you. I've never seen the maester take a liking to someone the way he has for you." She said calmly, bringing the elf out of his thoughts. "You've not said much since you arrived at Casper. Got some of the towns folks spooked." Velindrel nodded. "Silence has value too." He responded back. "I don't have much of interest to say anyway." He said to her. "Your kind has always fascinated me." The maid walked in close, Velindrel withdrew. She frowned. "...Why?" "You don't want to get involved with me, I'm just here to learn the blacksmith's trade beyond that I have no intentions of staying here. Have a nice day." He said that and sounded perhaps a little more harsh than he meant to. He hoped that drove the point home though, he was not here to build relationships he was there to learn...it was the way of his people to learn and desire knowledge. *** A short time later, he left the workshop to head home. (Enter here with Velly heading home for the day from the workshop. If I agree to have you join this thread thank you in advanced for helping out!)
  9. Athentha's Bloodied Past Book VI, Ascending the Stars of the Shattered Symphony Chapter I: 17, August 1678AY Is it wrong to lock her up in that mirror? That crystalized hell that we didn't know would occur? Was I wrong to believe that we made a mistake because we were blind to the war spreading among Athentha? That the first war broke out because we allowed it? --Excerpt from Augustus's Journal, in Athentha's Bloodied Past, Book II, Page 37-- Kogal closed the book as he sighed. He had been sitting there for a while now, knowing Yral was calling for war. Absolon hadn't been the best as he allowed those creatures--monsters into his head. That demon Ra, those cloaked in the Red Blood Moon Organization cloaks, he couldn't get it out of his head. His thoughts. Times were only getting worse for the island. Augustus eyed his young pupil, the worry in Kogal's eyes were not that easily discarded. The wise shaman had been at Absolon's side since the expedition here. As he grew in power, Absolon tossed him aside as he took in a new apprentice, a man who had ties to both organizations, even created them. Kogal leaned back into his chair as he rubbed his temples with a sigh, Grant Lyon wouldn't just stand by and let Athentha push them around. "It's inevitable isn't it?" Kogal asked. "Absolon has pushed too far this time hasn't he? That Lyon will raise war. And that organization, where did it come from? Why now of all times? I don't understand." "Only if you give up hope that it becomes inevitable Kogal." Augustus said as he leaned his lanky form against the wall. "He possibly did, but we don't know yet. Lyon hasn't declared anything yet. We know where. That woman named Ra." Kogal looked at his mentor as he tilted his head. He had heard stories of the sunbird and her origins. Yet, he didn't think it was possible she'd come to Athentha and create a cult. Especially one Absolon would wholeheartedly support. It didn't make sense. Augustus shook his head once more at this, the young demon man still confused. "Well, there were two islands not included with Athentha's making. Garuda-Scarab, which remains silent still. And the other one that houses creatures like her, the Red Blood Mirror. So, that's figured out. Listen," Augustus paused as Kogal rubbed his temples even more, "Kogal, we will need to think of a plan. Sayndar and Vex won't be enough to combat that cult." Kogal groaned. He didn't like where this was going. Wendelin had stood there, against the southeast corner, silent. The Valentinas were always involved in high stakes affairs, usually ones that involved saving the world or some stupid thing. Rhaspody remained on her left, also silent. Crescendo hasn't shown yet.Wendelin said softly. Kogal and Augustus looked towards her, a bit in shock. She probably got in a tight spot during the spying mission. I sent her to spy on Ra and her cult. Hopefully, it didn't go south as it-- "How long have you been there?" Kogal asked as he caught the stare of Wendelin's smoky green eyes. "And why are you here? It's not like we need the help." You do actually. Rhaspody spoke up. Ra isn't a pushover. And from what I heard, she's leading the charge of the war towards Yral. With Absolon's blessing of course. Crescendo should be by soon. She'll have the plans we need. Wendelin hoped her sister was alright. It was Ra after all and she was a threat. Though it was late and Crescendo hadn't shown yet. Augustus eyed the worry as he stumbled back to his chambers through his hoards of scripture, parchments and books. Kogal remained seated. ---- Crescendo had remained under cover for a good week. She hadn't let on she was a Valentina yet she knew she wasn't out of danger. Crescendo had read the books every day that Ra gave her to read. And through her prowness, she became one of the sunbird's favorites. Meaning more eyes were upon the young elf. Crescendo still wasn't sure why Wendelin picked her for this mission. If Malachite was still about, he could have been picked. He was a better spy than her. But their brother was on another mission. And because this one was important, knowing why Absolon wanted war, she was picked. She was a small elf, 5'2 and 100lbs. She had black teal hair that was stopped against her mid-back and braided. Her eyes were blank golden irises. She wore black silk like robes that were a bit too big for her. As Crescendo read the books, she was starting to get immersed into the teachings. It had almost ensnared her once or twice. She had to keep reminding herself that she was on a mission to keep Athentha from being torn asunder. Reminding herself this cult was not good. That this cult would be the end of Athentha should it allow to flourish. Yet, it remained in the back of her head that this cult might be something better. It had a cool name after all. Crescendo sighed as she was late getting back to her sister to report the information she held. Yet, Ra seemed to be misunderstood and she wanted to know more about the sunbird. Which would be easy since she was the new favorite. The elf closed the book as she leaned back against the chair in her chambers. Something was wrong here yet Crescendo couldn't figure it out yet. The seeds sounded wonderful, such good upgrades at the cost of something no longer needed. She would consider it later. For now she scribbled down in her notepad in a code should she be comprised. I should be heading back soon… Wendelin starts to worry when I'm late... Crescendo thought as a knock came to her door. She hesitated to answer it.
  10. (Continues sometime after: And is an on going project style series. This project will be open to all just like the other one. This is an ongoing attempt to continue to develop Casper and my own character; Velindrel any assistance at this project is more than welcome. One more note: My Star Forge I am going to attempt to make canon/lore. So I'm going for 60+ posts for this. You guys aint seen NOTHING yet) It was a Tuesday... Since his instructions with The Maester began, Velindrel found himself gradually opening up to the people of Casper. He initially had been rough around the edges, but he'd slowly grown used to the idea he was a Casper citizen at that point. Velindrel looked at his house for a moment. Shit...it really is a dump. He sighed, he was going to have to spruce up the place a little bit more. Especially if he was going to have guests at some point from the town and from other places...his thoughts wandered as they tended to do often when he noticed it. His eyes narrowed and he noticed his front door was already open ajar. The past had caught up with him. A part of him pondered running away, and simply not having to deal with any of it... But Velindrel was no coward...he would face her he would face all of it head on. He carried the groceries he got from the general goods shop earlier and entered the house. A small group of individuals were already waiting inside, but his eyes went right to her....right to Magdalene. He put his stuff down on the floor and stood his ground. "I knew this day would come." Velindrel said gruffly, he half expected a fight right from the get go. Magdalene waved her hand and dismissed her companions, this was a personal family matter they didn't need to hear what was going to happen next. "You covered your tracks fairly well. Operative." He nodded. "I learned from the best. Can you blame me?" Magdalene walked over towards him, there was still some semblance of mutual respect between the two of them it had not all gone to shit. "The others would have ensured your death." "I kind of figured. I wouldn't have fought back either." Given what happened...what they did to us. "Why did you leave?" She asked. "I couldn't have stayed because of our child." Velindrel said. "Your Father made it clear that he would never accept a bastard halfbreed as family." "Velindrel...my Father was dealt with a few days after you left." She said, hoping that would spark...something in Velindrel. He looked down at his hands. "My hands are no longer clean enough to carry a child. I been running for so long." He looked sincerely sad about the entire event and what had transpired...all that had transpired between the two of them. The woman before him had been the single greatest love in the Elf's life only to have had her father shatter everything. "My hands are not any cleaner at this point." She told him. "Velindrel...I spoke with my colleagues and the guild we're from. I want to stay here in Casper...with you." Velindrel narrowed his eyes for a moment at what he was hearing. "You're serious...despite everything?" "Father killed our child and stole that from us but it made me realize what I had wanted this whole time was you." She sighed. "But if you don't want me back I can understand this." Velindrel walked over towards her. "So much had gone wrong since that happened to us, since our daughter was killed by him. I have been running for so long that I knew no other way of life...Casper is not a bad town by the way I think you will like it here." She nodded. "So that is a yes...?" He kissed her deeply. It is a yes... He thought to himself and sealed things in proper fashion...with a kiss. (This is going to be an ongoing crafting related thread, yall want stuff made LETS DO THIS!!! within reason of course Velly is not yet a Mastersmith but he can make most stuffs! Let's get this show on the road!)
  11. 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.
  12. (OOC Thread) The sun was setting on an autumn Genesaris, casting long shadows from the trees and sinking the valleys and gulleys between the mountains in deep darkness. Torie’s coat and substantial layer of insulating blubber kept her warm, though her nose felt the cold keenly. It hadn’t started snowing yet. The sky was clear and pink above the hilltops. But it was cold enough to freeze the edges of the nearby creek, mixing ice and autumn leaves together in a multicoloured mosaic. With the setting of the sun it would only get colder, she knew, and what’s more, she could sense other travelers nearby. Torie was a druid who took the form of a tiger. She was quite likely to be the largest and fattest tiger in the world, easily standing over five feet tall and with a thick, ruffled neck, and a belly that almost dragged on the ground. Her coat was thick and hid most of her unsightly rolls of fat, but it couldn’t hide her bulk. In fact, it only increased her apparent size to something enormous, though perhaps less threatening than a regular tiger. Around her neck hung a chain of pouches filled with all manner of various herbs she had picked up in her latest foray into the wilderness, though she was looking forward to returning to nearby Vdara, and all the comforts (and foods) modern city living provided. But still, it would be easy for a traveler to mistake her for a wild beast. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d have to fight off someone keen on claiming her pelt. Talking was always an option, and she’d modified her natural tiger throat to enable her to speak, but it was still a deep grumble that could easily be mistaken for growls if someone wasn’t listening properly. So she’d have to make herself look less like an animal, and the only way she could think to do that out here was to build a campfire. She gathered some fuel together in her mouth and carried it to a clearing, where she sat on her haunches and used her dinnerplate-sized paws to rub one stick into the other. It was slow-going though, and not something she practiced very often. By the time the sun had set and only the light of the moon was left, she found herself hunched over her attempted fire with nothing but a pile of dry sticks and splinters in her paws to show for it. “Morku,” she said, cursing in her native tongue, but then her ears twisted between their fatty ruffles at the sound of movement nearby. She hadn’t been listening to the earth for a while. Had the other travelers found her? “Welcome,” she said slowly, grinning into the trees in the direction of the noise – and feeling equal parts stupid and scared. “Come, please sit with me. I don’t suppose you’re skilled at lighting a fire, are you?”
  13. These plots are not set in stone, and are meant for open discussion and collaborating across the board. If you're interested and you're not in this club, get in here! These will be updated over time with more information so stay tuned
  14. The outside appears to be minimal and modern with slabs of marble and stacked stone in a grey palette. The inside is warm with distressed wood paneled walls, a romantic, whimsical canopy of trees overhead, and the soft twinkling of lights as an open fire glows in the stone fireplace. Small, curtained windows framed by wooden shutters let some light filter through, and small, intimate tables are arranged for the flow of impeccable service. It is clear is meant to be an oasis of intimacy and romance. An impressive stretch of marble slab makes up the main counter top, a clear path indicating a newcomer may start there. The floors are equally distressed but maintained, the air clean from the artfully placed trees inside. The menu was rumored to be small but flavorful, based solely on the wines provided at the time. A portion of the counter was lined with baskets filled with fresh snacking goods from nuts to bread and spiced oils, some which came as suggestions to pair with a favorite wine. A path leads around to a second room, which also boasts a counter, flanked by an impressive array of local and imported wines. On display are various retired swords, tools, and artifacts—their ethereal abilities long spent and merely for decor. After lunch in the late afternoon, the Enoteca would open its doors for a few hours, allowing the locale and tourists trailing in from Port Kyros to make their reservations and dine for the wine or see their wares inspected, repaired, or built to order. The cellar would open as the orders for the best of the best wines make their way in. Meals are prepared light and are not meant to satisfy those who are voraciously hungry. Built for refinement, elegance and courtesy—drunken debauchery is heavily frowned upon and security is never far. -- Welcome to the Enoteca: the chic, romantic sister-bar to The Sadira Amar. With the Port City’s arboretum taking off and growing a variety of fruits, it became clear to Raveena that capitalizing on the wine industry would bolster tourism significantly. While the Sadira Amar is open and inviting, the Enoteca is an establishment designed for intimacy and privacy. Like its sister-bar in Hyperion, the Enoteca doubles as a workshop where Genesarian artifacts and weapons can be repaired or built to order. Shopping patrons are escorted to the adjacent room where a workshop beneath the floors going into the cellar has been fleshed out. An up-and-coming Artificer and Scrivener in the service of the Queen resides here and can give anyone a quick lesson on their artifacts, its history and its use for a fair fee. Stop by to sample the local flavor, delve into the mystery of Port Kyros and it's potent source of magic. There's rumors of ghosts of fallen soldiers that haunt the memorial, of secret societies and vanishing cities. From the magical to the mysterious, the Enoteca welcomes you in.
  15. After the fall of the Uldwars... Ingrid had come off of Mt. Ego a defeated Mage and even worse...unemployed. After the fall of the House of Uldwar, losing her student Luis and having no home to return to, Ingrid looked out to other areas far, far out of the way where she could study what had happened to the land once the Elemental had died. It felt like the whole of Ursa Madeum had been turned upside down, the magics uncontrolled seeming throughout this kingdom of Svanhild. Almost everything had been wiped from what was left of the Uldwars save for few who had memory of them. That and she had to evacuate and abandon the beautiful school she had left behind after becoming the HeadMaster, sending students to one of the safer branches far, far away. Left in a burning wasteland with magic out of control, Ingrid had fled. Without an Elemental in place, she would never be able to return to Misral...and with her ties to the old family that had ruled there and having fought the Oathsworn from trying to kill it...Ingrid had gained an unfavorable reputation. Her noble family had been wiped away, everything of her past employment now under ash and flames. The only choice she had was to run, get away and not look back. Her son Camille had started school already under Kalmuli's care...it left her more time to figure out what to do. Find an elemental? Find a new noble family to serve? Her travels had lead her to find about a city of Fae that lay behind the Fenwylds. It was a place where she could recover and give her some peace while she regained herself....get back to her roots. Being Fae herself, an elf, she wouldn't have much trouble getting through the Fenwylds...but she wasn't so sure about her sanity. Ingrid had made herself a base camp outside of the Fenwyld to give herself some time to ready herself. Gathering materials for potions, meditating and reading over old manuscripts...but it was just delaying the inevitable. She would have to go where the other Fae wandered and she wasn't sure if even just being an Elf would be enough. "Gods...What am I doing..."Ingrid said, bringing her hands up to her face after having been at a mortar and pestle grinding herbs for more potions. "What in the seven hells am I doing..." Ingrid brought her hands down away fro her face, sniffing and wiping at her face while she sat alone in her tent. "I can't keep just...putting it off..."She said to herself, looking through the gap in her tent that had a full view of the beginning of the Fenwyld. She could hear whispers...things checking her out, finding out what she was doing. What kind of creatures or Fae they were, she didn't know...but she hadn't slept in three days and ate very little from it. The last thing she wanted to do in this state was to have something approach her with the intent to do harm...least she lose herself again. "Tomorrow has to be it...Tomorrow...or I just...find somewhere else. Ilvor can't be the only Fae city in Svanhild..."
  16. ((Imagine as taking place southwest of Kethlerin)) _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ A week had passed after the war in Nu Martyr, with the Watchers had decided it was time they forged a new destiny amidst the ruins of the old. On their airship, they had absconded with a number of refugees from that land with a promise of safe havens in their homeland. Their number consisted mostly of families with a few soldiers, but it was the speed at which they fled across the Great Northern Ocean that provided the most protection, as did the anonymity with which they traveled. When the ship had disembarked in Port Kyros, it was a nightmare for the Watchers to go through the problem of customs with the locals, as did the question of what to do with so many people. Very few questioned that life was going to be hard, especially for those that came from Landonia - where the proud, knightly traditions held strong. After a day or so of arguing with the customs officers, the Watchers had simply packed everyone who did not wish to remain and headed further east. A select few did leave, but most stayed and waited - huddled together amidst the ship's cavernous interior while they waited. It took another day of flight, but they reached the coast of the western edge of the Great North. To the more cautious minded, this was the ideal spot to set up, but Arthur Morn, the Watcher's second (and interim leader in Nathan's absence) thought it better to head further inland, away from prying eyes. Furthermore, he argued, the ship was borrowed from the Nu Martyr Defense Forces. It would need to be refueled, refitted and then returned once this business was concluded. It was a matter of honor. "Honor is not what keeps these people fed and happy, Arthur." Gale, the Watcher's strategist had said that evening over some of the last bottles of water and bits of bread. "We need to find someplace to drop soon or they'll start eating each other." With that, Gale and Elias volunteered to head further southeast - scouting for a different spot. It took a day, but eventually, they found it. Far to the southwest of the city of Kethlerin, on the banks of the Kethlerin's river tributary were the ruins of an old keep and some unnamed town. It was probably one of the places destroyed in the cataclysm from a previous Whispernight when the dead had risen from their graves and laid waste to much of Genesaris. Though nature had come to reclaim much of what was lost, the town's buildings remained largely intact, including a blacksmith's forge and fully stocked larders. Even better, the few clusters of the still-living dead were easy to dispatch. It took a skirmish, but the Watchers and their forces had secured and scoured away the area. Near the keep, the four members of the Watchers discussed what was to come. Four men fresh from a war they had fought and nearly died in, all for these people who were to them as complete strangers - now people under their protection. Nearly a thousand of them, just looking for someplace to go. "Much will have to be done." Gale said as the first wave of people began to arrive. Most of them women, children and the elderly. "We'll need to figure out who gets what houses and to secure a source of drinkable water." "Not to mention the security situation." Elias said, folding his arms. "We'll need to make another sweep of the area and find out if there's any more undead, or worse." "And the fact that Nathan is still missing." Max pointed out. "It's been almost ten days now. We'll need to contact him to make sure he's okay." "Jameson can take care of himself." Arthur said. "He'll contact us when he's ready. Until then, we need to follow his orders and keep these people safe. And Elias is right - we have to cover our tracks and ensure the Cult of Power does not follow us." "If the cult found out where we are, their reach would have to be long indeed." Elias said, inwardly glad his brother was so quick to agree. "I can only imagine their wrath would be terrible. Nathan made a direct threat to their leader - and more, we snatched a whole group of people from right under their noses." "Even so, this little town is as good a place as any to start over." Arthur said. He turned to his brother and the Fairy Knight. "I'll see to it that makeshift defenses are set up. Elias, run a sweep from the north and east walls. Gale, give me south and west. I want to know what's coming this way before we're gagging on it." With that, he turned to the Angel Knight. "Max, you're with me. I'm going to start organizing a militia."
  17. Cold.. bitter cold.. it always reminded him of that night. Space invaded in a heinous portrayal of discrimination against mankind. Gaia’s devotees slaughtered by Unnaturals. It was the definition of ironic. There was naught but bloodshed that night. The winds blew through the Wastelands with a burglary of one’s own heat; the only thing more outright bone-chilling was the sophistication the monstrosities took in eradicating the entire clan’s caravan. There was not much more testing than the destruction of everything one knew in life. It either forged something devastating, or it broke one beyond measure. Who was to say one did not lead to the other — No one could. The cold nights reminded him often of that fate-filled night. Walk like them until they walk like you.. it was something the old wives spoke of when telling stories of heroes and how one might aspire to be more like them in character. That night, Yshmael moved in the way of the Three, as a devout Triaditionalist of the Dead Peaks would hope to. Creation of a world where such tragedies might happen less, The Preservation of his people and their way of life, and the Destruction of those who would do wrong in Gaia’s demesne. His strength and will to survive deemed him worthy of their eye and forever cast his path into the defense of all Natural kind. The Triad had endowed him with an unwavering will and a knack for sniffing out dangers in the world, especially Unnaturals, and he had done nothing but hone these things into something that men and monsters alike paled in comparison of Will and sheer Might when the warrior-priest applied himself and his Faith. His loss had indeed broken him, and in return for giving himself to the Will of Gaia, so too was he given an Indomitable Will. In that time of mantling the Triad, he became a vessel to them as they served mutual purpose in his actions. Nothing could have prepared him in even three lifetimes for that night.. And it was that night that propelled his life into the path he now walked. Leaving the sands he and his people had spent generations on was no small task, subjectively or objectively. The Wasteland was vast and the cold encroached ever so far… so much farther than it had in his time as a child. But that was then, and this was the Now. One must not dwell on things they cannot change; another old wife’s advice for letting go. By the Will of Gaia, Yshmael survived and effectively destroyed all of the transgressors in the vicinity. He was among less than a handful of survivors; those who were unfortunately tasked with sending their dead on to the next chapter in one’s life. Once done, he made sure to deliver them to safety. Neighboring tribes in the region and those among frequented spaces gathered to give condolences in the form of words and material offerings. Someone had even spotted his horse in the near on dunes, but ultimately they had been unable to catch it. This left Him with few things left to do but pursue a state of mind and subsequently satisfy the urges set on him by his Faith. “West..” he said to himself. Directly West from the subtle temple nestled into the Dead Peaks he had been born in, and where his family had begun many lives. It had been decided by those higher than him that he head west in order to snuff out as much corruption within Gaia’s realm ashe could. The sands harbored no love, no warmth anymore; neither would he. Mercy was a liability in most worldly professions, and he had no intentions of offering such things to those that would cross him. With purpose and survival driving him, the man had managed to not only head west, but by some divine grace, his trek was made swifter by his horse finding /Him/! It was one of those little things that one ought to appreciate and take to heart. The horse had been scouted for him on his coming of age, which meant to go be among the sands for what felt like a whole year.. maybe it was longer.. shorter? The sands did not keep track of time outside of bottles, sadly. Nevertheless, his horse was home - with him - and had survived what looked to be a handful of abrasions and run ins with either wire or claw. The wounds were healed and tended to by the good work of the Nomad. His hands had been tasked with much as one of the more mature men within the caravan. With horse - and what seemed like a hefty load for a single man to have been moving across the desert with - they were off! They kept a good pace all the way through the Wasteland’s grueling biomes and into the mountain ranges south of the sands. Little activity found their way by means of Unnaturals or those who would give ill intent.. maybe they knew to stay away? No matter, he was across the sands anyways. His hand for reading common was strengthened by years of trade in the outskirts regions near the border and within the desert; a gracious moment he reminisced about when coming across signs after breaking through the border and slipping through generally without hindrance. Blairville The nearest major settlement. Yshmael had finally arrived in the skirts, much to his delight. “Food and a bit of a rest, old friend..” he uttered, rubbing the neck and mane of the decorated horse as he stood from a position of a kneeling bow against the earth. The companion whinnied in response and dug a hoof into the dirt before traversing a downward path through the foothills and mountains leading to the town. He had elected to keep to the ranges rather than main roads out of comfort’s sake until the walls of the city were upon them. Time had lapsed perfectly to deliver the man to the Market in the early morning, having set upon a main road around dawn. Already, the smells of the market hit his nose. Incense and herbs and the burning of wood. The savory foods and beverages hit his nose with mouth-watering flavors and scents. It had been some time since he walked such a large and diverse market. It was here in the market that the man dismounted and walked with a horse that generally did not bother to stretch the reins thin with distance from the Nomad. Yshmael and the horse seemed bonded.. a touching sentiment and also a helpful one. Where the man did not pay attention, the horse surely would bolster detection and security by means of constant vigilance. On and on, they walked as a pair, hardly a full (Roman) pace apart at any point. They roamed the market to gather what was needed, making small talk and even receiving condolences from merchants hailing from the sands. With Provisions gathered for the journey, as well as knowledge of which he learned upon deeper questioning of merchants regarding the settlements to the west and the procuring of a map, he began to fixate on the now. Water, a bit of food and grain split between the two, and a gear check were all addressed. His robes, bound in silks and leather and plate in various areas about his form. Yshmael’s weapon hung from the hip, with a blade tucked into the breast of his robing. Hunter’s Steel, with blessings and family names etched all over. He kept it close at all times. A sentiment and personal defense that brought him security. A scarf adorned his head to keep the wind off his neck, and it draped from his form a bit and covered a light pelt that wrapped over the back of his form from the shoulder down. Riding boots were knocked against the heel of one another to relieve them of crusted sand and mud. The armaments of his father, passed on through generations, even the very robes he wore, were in his possession. He bound them to the horse and kept a spear with it - also his father’s. The nomad’s fingers were decorated with rings of all the members he could identify and recover, however few. Necklaces and bangles dressed his body, bearing talismans and words of power, or so they had been spoken of. Heirlooms and the surviving pieces of many who fell were all he could hold onto aside from memories. Empowered by his faith and compassion for mankind, the trinkets and accessories he bore served to draw in the energies that Gaia and the earth offered to him. It was all that seemed to warm his heart outside of his horse. The nomad smiled at the graceful steed to his left, taking in a deep breath as he reminisced and relaxed for a moment within the market. It was brief, though. He needed to keep moving. Thoughts and images plagued his mind if he was not remaining aware of his surroundings. Dreams had been invaded by ruins and plagued of monsters and sickness alike. Blight on the land struck fear and motivation into his steely resolve. It was his obligation to see it destroyed and prevented from further corruption. Gypsy Market - West End Two Hours to Mid Day With all he needed wrapped up, Yshmael made way toward the western end of the city, taking a decent stride as he led the horse on rather than ride him. Unless stopped or confronted, he would be on his way out of the market and city itself. Map in tow, he moved along.
  18. Aleksei

    In the heavens

    INSTRUCTIONS https://www.valucre.com/topic/44245-onwards-to-adventures-interest-check/ PROMPT An asteroid has fallen from the sky and has stopped mere moments before it hits the ground. The asteroid begins to segment itself into layers, exposing floating fortresses and cities. Investigate one of the cities and get the item. ↳ Destroy the asteroid once item is obtained. OR ↳ Save the asteroid so it can be studied. _________________________________________________________________________________ She plucked the unfortunate petals of the daisy; a light hum escapes her as she goes about the age-old song - he loves me, he loves me not. There was no one in particular on her mind as she did this, it's just simply what one does when they have a small flower in their hand. If she had the skill to do so, she would make a flower crown but she has never been the creative sort. So she plucks petals and watches them drift across the meadow. The meadow was edged with swaying trees and there is a path that leads to just about anywhere. It was a typical scene you see painted on large canvases that are hung in restaurants or little cafes. What you don't see outside the borders of that canvas is the oddity that's brought Riforte here. Unable to do much, she's been forced to extend her hand to those that can accomplish what she can't. The items that she needs from the asteroid are not worth her life, but they may be worth someone else's life. Some miles to her right is the asteroid, a magnificent piece of the heavens that's stopped a mere feet from hitting the ground. She had studied it, used her own resources to ensure that what she wanted was there, and then threw out some feelers to catch adventurous sorts to get her the tome. This kind of work always draws in the best kind of people, too - no matter the risk, she will get her tome. Plucking another daisy, Riforte waits. Around Valucre were leaflets calling for the brave and the curious. She had left them rather minor and poor looking, instead of grandiose as most calls for adventurers tend to be. These leaflets give simple instructions: meet this person here at this time and introduce yourself. The payment was mentioned but nothing in-depth either, just a small little line of print down at the bottom saying the person would get paid. And that's it. If someone is to take one of these leaflets to the meadow mentioned, they would be guided by the magical line glued between herself and that of the flyer. That way, the person wouldn't have to worry about finding the person paying them for their time. Though it's a bit hard to miss her sitting among a field of wildflowers. _________________________________________________________________________________
  19. There was a subtle change in the sound of the city, enough to interrupt Torie’s dreams. She woke up a little disorientated but quickly recognized her room at the inn. Sunlight streamed in through her south-facing window, the angle indicating just after noon. She stretched, and felt the floorboards shaking. “Strange,” she said. Then she noted a deeper vibration, a rumble, barely perceptible to her sensitive tiger ears, and equally faint screaming. Torie scrambled to her feet, which wasn’t easy, especially given the vast quantity of salamander meat she’d eaten the day before. With a swing of her plate-sized paw she opened the door and bolted down the stairs, flanks scraping the wall on either side. The inn was quiet, a few patrons dining for lunch. Torie headed straight for the door. Outside the sunlight was arrestingly bright, but even through squinting eyes, everything seemed normal. People, horses and carts moved up and down the cobblestone streets. Several adventures milled around a notice board further down the street. A queue had formed out the door of a discounted barber store. But the cobblestones beneath Torie’s enormous paws were ever-so-gently vibrating. She wandered north, uphill towards where she knew the castle sat on its cliffs above the coast. The buildings became taller, more ritzy, with little spires and porticos and balconies. The people were better dressed, flowing with silks and embroidery. But the ground was still vibrating, enough that she could see the windows on nearby buildings shaking. Then one of the windows shattered. People stopped in the street, looking about. Someone cried out earthquake, and more screams filled the air. If Torie didn’t have four legs she might have been worried she would fall, and turned to walk to the centre of the road, furthest from the looming stone buildings on either side. Then, one of the buildings near the centre of town vanished behind the skyline of roofs and spires, and another, and another, replaced instead by a plume of smoke and dust. “Ohh boy,” Torie said and, when the ground stopped shaking, started down the slope. *** Panicked crowds grew tighter the closer she got, though being an enormous tiger, the tide of people parted for her quickly enough. Soon she found herself standing on the edge of an enormous sinkhole, the collapsed remains of several buildings inside. And several people, covered in dust, among the rubble. “Rope, we need rope!” called a shield guard. “… foot’s trapped, need a crane or a dragon to move-“ “… ground could still give way. Get these crowds back!” Golden shields started dispersing among the crowd, hands up, shouting to the crowds to back away. One of them reached Torie, looking at her as if not sure she was a person or a wild animal. “You…” “I can help,” Torie said, slowly so she articulated well around her tiger throat. “I can pull or lift, or hold a rope.” “Wait here,” the guard said. He turned to address some people standing on the very edge, looking down at the mess of the sinkhole below, when the cobblestone road split and he and everyone near the edge disappeared into the abyss. Torie roared with surprise and terror, watching as the sinkhole grew even deeper, the square stones of buildings and people crawling over them churning as they sank deeper into the earth, as if there was a hole beneath them. Water gurgled from a broken aquiduct, washing over the rocks and people alike. Torie backed away from the edge, as if it could swallow her too, and headed back to the inn. *** She burst through the inn door. “Help! We need help,” she said around breaths gasping for air. “People, buildings… the ground’s collapsed. There are people trapped! We need rope and ladders, and healers. Please, come quickly!” She looked about at the patrons, eyeing off the most capable-looking, eyes pleading for help.
  20. Aliza chased the rabbit fiercely, her bow in hand, but she closed her eyes for a second, only to open them and see the rabbit gone and be tumbling head over heels from running too fast. She tutted. She hated herself, how could she be so clumsy? She froze at the sound of a horse's aggressive whinny. Royal guards were coming, she had to run. If she was going to steal the tiaras, she had to stay hidden. She couldn't let them be crowned official princesses, she just couldn't. The whinnies came closer, and Aliza could hear the clattering of running hooves. "Aah!" It came forward from her lips before she could stop it as a human form barreled into her. Not a royal guard, please not a royal guard, she prayed. "Hey, hey, girl, calm down. It's only me." She opened her eyes and looked up. "Don't say 'it's only me' like I know you. I don't trust anyone I don't know." Aliza's teeth were bared as she spoke, and a growl came from deep in her throat. "Girlie, don't growl at me like you're some rabid guard dog. I'm a rogue like you." The person who had tackled her was a teenage boy, about 17 at most. He had a bow and arrow, and a knapsack, as did Aliza, so she could only assume he spoke the truth. "So what's your plan, sneaking around the castle grounds like this?" the boy asked. "Well, I heard that the queen has just given birth to twin girls. I'm trying to get in and steal their crowns so they can't be crowned princesses," Aliza explained. "Oh, so you're a thief too? I never knew I'd find someone like me. I'm a rogue and a thief as well. Name's Zane. But isn't this kind of a sensitive topic to talk about when the royal guard is watching us?" Short note from @InhaleTheSmog, who plays Aliza: This will become a love story eventually. Aliza whipped around at Zane's words. Sure enough, the royal guard and their horses were watching them like a flock of hawks. "What are you rogues doing here?" said one guard with a deep, booming voice. "They're probably thieves as well. I heard them mention something..." said a second guard with a purring, weaselly voice, before being shushed by the first guard. There was a sound of metal scratching as the second guard slowly drew his sword out of his armor.
  21. "Quit fretting, Tora. They'll be fine. They're old enough to know not to dance in the streets or anything, right, Aliza?" Shimi looked down at his young children, Aliza and Katoro. "Yeah, Dad! We'll collect all the fish you asked for, just like you said," replied Aliza. "And remember, children, give them money! Don't steal the fish!" Shimi added as the children ran off into the hustle and bustle of the marketplace. "Shimi, do you not worry for them? They are young, are you sure you can let them-" Tora was cut off by Shimi shushing her. "No, Tora. Aliza is extremely agile, so along with Katoro's intelligence, they will be fine if they run into any strangers. Plus I gave Aliza a bow and arrow, and Katoro a knife. They're armed and ready, Tora." Tora sighed and looked up at the sky. "Alright. If you say so."
  22. The thrum of a magitech engine buzzed in the background and the powerful Nehalen wind slapped against the mighty airship's windows. But, no matter hard it may try, mere wind could never break into the exterior of Clockwork Grind, one of the most powerful airships of Genesaris. Instead, as if a child's toy, the ocean's blades simply bounced off. Behind Clockwork Grind followed a myriad of other airships, some keeping pace and others struggling to do so against the Nehalen ocean winds. Black clouds rumbled in the distance and bright lines of lightning struck randomly. That was there destination: the isle of Nede. Or so Ankou had reported it was called. After landing in Nede, Ankou, Khaki, and Sera had fought and defeated what they called a Demon Lord. In return, Ankou had gained a throne of near absolute power within a domain. If what he said was true, perhaps Nehalen was what she'd been looking for. What she'd thought Nu Martyr had been. Lilith wasn't entirely sure what "it" was, but somehow that didn't stop her from searching. As they approached the start of the storm clouds, massive creatures broke through the clouds in an obvious rage. Cloaked in all elements under the sun, Dragons began to attack the army of airships approaching Nede. At the beginning, Lilith stayed where she was in the airships control center. Standing and watching through the large windows as her Paragons used the Cult's black fog magic to combat the beasts midair. Probably guardians of the floating island. A moment longer of watching and Lilith was certain the guardian creatures weren't simply dragons. "Elder dragons?" she muttered, unsure. Definitely more powerful than the average dragons- that she was positive of. It wasn't until she saw the occasional pitch black scale on some and the rotting scales on others that her eyes widened. "Ah. Demonic and Undead. No wonder." @danzilla3 @Zashiii @AngryCacti @The North Wind @Casanova @TheShadow @J. A. Horton @Veloci-Rapture (for those who have expressed interest) OOC: This thread is completely open. I'd prefer a PM first, but it's not needed. Just jump in!
  23. It was a long trip back home from what was now known as Taiyomichi. Prior to such a trip, he was not mentally matured or prepared enough to understand the gravity of his title; Of his position. During the several days at sea it took to return here on a fisherman's vessel at that, he had plenty of time to digest on the information and knowledge gained both directly and indirectly; From a wide variety of Human and Yokai sources that differed from those found here among the vast psionic populace. He had learned from his father that one had to make sacrifices to protect and ensure what was most precious to themselves. Sisu-sama had tought him that honor was tied to one's duty, one's fate; That one didn't always choose the life they were born into, and that responsibility had to be taken on anyone's account. Months before either however, he'd learned from his mother, and affirmed with his aforementioned guardians, that love seemed to be the one thing in the balance that disturbed such a thing. Love creates pain, and pain changes people. Though said change could not be predicted person to person, it had become a veritable truth in his mind that such a thing was too unpredictable to allow one's self to become overly attached to anyone or anything by choice. Though what he had been born in bondage to was already as much a part of himself as any other part in mind, body, and spirit. First and foremost he was born a son, his first duty being to those whom came before him; His parents and his Sisu. Then came the fact that he was born a Prince. The Bastard Prince as he was coming to be called, cared not for the illegitimate nature of his claim to the court. For he was the only child born of the Scarlet Queen. Once docked, the boy had done as he had his entire trip, masked his presence by way of bending the way minds perceived him. Where a boy and his cat stowed away on a ship, it appeared it was just two cats that went largely unperturbed. Together the duo traversed the roads of crushed stone beneath there feet, still warm to his senses as he remembered when he'd left. That was good, the Keep's defenses were still up and running, which meant that as he'd assumed, his Mother was in fact still alive where ever she was. He would find her one day, though in the mean time it had fallen upon his shoulders to pick up the reins where she'd prematurely left off. He had to restore stability within there lands, at least in the Keep itself, or he ran the risk of leaving his Mother's people more or less abandoned, as well as the risk of leaving his Mother with nothing to return to. As he made his way, Kairos took note of the environment overall. While the economy and it's people hadn't necessarily fallen or suffered great losses, it was apparent that excluding the recent feast hosted by the Order of Force, this region had grown rather stagnant. even to the point that adventurer's failed to lay claim to their outstanding Quests. This coupled with the silence of their sibling nations, save for the Taiyomichi, as well as with the empty council sitting in the Queen's place here, it was all just more evidence that he was right. Somebody had to do something, and soon. If only he'd realized sooner that he was just that somebody. Many would deny the claim a child made to a thrown, though his parents had provided him with the tools necessary to appear in whatever manner the people needed to see most in their minds. Creeping into the shadows of a nearby alleyway, the two cats vanished from sight for the briefest of moments. The Prince took a deep breath as he gathered himself, mentally preparing to put everything he'd learned to the test. For if he could not succeed here, now, then he'd have no hope to succeed in the future. While still incredibly young, he was wise well beyond his years; One of few consolations of being born to a Psion and a Cambion. He was a prodigy, gifted with advance Psionic capabilities that he still hadn't fully grasped an understanding on himself. Yet each day he understood more, each day he grew stronger and smarter...Each day, with every ounce of gained awareness, the boy gained confidence. Stepping from the shadows once more, the boy emerged in likeliness to how he appeared when seen in Taiyomichi, the day it was named such. Those that were present or aware of his appearance that day would undoubtedly recognize him now, giving some semblance of weight behind his words when he inevitably came to speak them. Stepping center-most into town, now with what was undoubtedly a lion, he cleared his throat and began by announcing himself and his claim before committing. Regardless of the apparent reception of his words here and now, he'd made up his mind on this matter. With or without the support of his nation, he would serve and protect them the way that he knew his Mother would, if not better. "Ladies, gentlemen, children of Predator's Keep; Lend me your ears, and your minds as well as your hearts!" He paused as he obviously gained quite a bit of attention from them all. A crowd began to gather as some ran to tell others to come and see before it was too late. Even one of the Order's Knight ran to tell the Master Knight himself that a spectacle was on the rise while other's remained around to observe the speech that was about to be delivered. "As most of you are aware, the budding Scarlet Empire ha taken quite a slide back in our Queen's absence. While the Keep itself has suffered the least, it is obviously thanks to the allowance of the Order of Force's presence within our lands. This Force however, is not a governing one, and with the realized loss of the Scarlet Council, it has become apparent that such responsibility falls upon myself; Your Prince!" Confusion became apparent among them, for the Prince was but a we lad. A far cry from a young man. Surely this man was an impostor? "It is true, I assure you all. While I left here mere weeks ago a boy, I return to you a man. While this may be difficult to accept as the truth, it does nothing to change the fact that it is. I am not lost to the fact that I am widely known among you all as The Bastard Prince. While I can do nothing to change the circumstance of my heritage, I can only assure you my Mother's blood runs through my veins, and that there is no alternative as far as genetic alternatives are concerned. As a result, I'm here this morn to tell you all that your Prince has returned, and that he, I, am going to absorb whats left of the Scarlet Council into my board of advisers...Without another to oppose my claim to the throne by right of birth or blood, I am issuing an open challenge to any and all whom would oppose me now. You have until sunset two moons from now to prove you are the more worthy to replace me on the throne. In the mean time, I'll begin by currently claiming it as it's interim monarch." As the crowds grew chaotic in their confusion and rejections, the Prince merely began to walk with purpose towards the Bastion; His Lion by his side. The crowds birthed a path for them to pass throw regardless of their acceptance to his speech. Formally, he'd placed himself out there to the public, and now it was time for him to appeal to perhaps the only person that truly could prove an issue for him moving forward. James Eredas. So far as Kairos was concerned, the OFM was nothing more than an over-glorified military force that specializes in Demon slaying. Curiously enough, it seemed to stand that his Father wasn't here, or else the man would've shown himself already. Not like his immediate attendance would've served a purpose in slowing the Khaliq down, let alone stopping him.
  24. He didn't want to get some complacent in his Omnipotence that he forgot what it was to get his own hands dirty. How often do you hear of it? Someone going from the bottom to the top just to act as if they never called the bottom home? That wasn't Proteus. ALL the power, literally, at his disposal and he still found joys of the cold. The biting winter attempting to nip at his skin. The biting sub zero temperatures attempting to still his flow and his life, but alas he couldn't even FEEL these extremes let alone be bothered by them in the slightest. Even PRIOR to his ascension the cold was his element. He thrived in it. Hunted in it. Lived in it. It bred him and hardened him and deep, deep, deep in the frigid forests of Kharatunmi just a few miles north of the Temple/Gateway he had established here, Proteus stood perfectly still---one with the environment. He was covered head to toe in snow, crouched over in a 3 point stance---For so long, albeit it a blizzard going on it was enough to snow fall to enshroud the entirety of his hulking 15' frame in snow entirely and make him appear NO different then the mound of snow just a few meters to the right. Howling winds! Bending tree's! A veil of white blanketing the entirety of the would be green here were it absent.---All because he saw tracks here prior to the storm, and can sense and sell and though he downplays it, he see's the utterly unfathomable and remarkable creature that will make it's way back here. Some men, as boys, develop a favorite past time. Skipping rocks. A sport of sort involving a ball or oblong object. Horse back riding, archery, and things of that nature. Ol Proteus was different. His cloth was one hard to cut and different from the materials galore. Even as a child, Proteus has and always will be infatuated with hunting, stalking and assailing creatures many times his own size---even if ultimately they were no where near as powerful as he was. NOT to kill them, no, but the sport of startling them and giving them hell for a few moments. To make them aware that despite their size and stature there was something out there that was MORE then they were, and, the general thrill of bothering something---Big. And the Dragons of Kharatunmi were BIG. Big is an understatement really, considering the one he stalked after now was an ice dragon, white in coloration with an affinity for that element that was every bit of 1.5 miles from head to toe, and stood more then 600' from for limp to shoulder, with a wing span that was every bit of HALF it's overall length. By all intents in purposes, something this large simply BEGGED for his attention and quite honestly he got tired of surveying them from the isolation of his realm and instead pushed for a more hands on approach. And this big thing was gonna need some big hands... It's name was Mumramunatra----Proteus had taken to calling it "Muu Muu", if not for how convenient it was shortened, for how amusing it was to see the fairly intelligent extra large set of boots get equally pissed at it's name being butchered. Proteus had spent the better part of two days wounding this creatures pride. First posing as an easy meal and then flipping the script at the last moment and revealing he was anything but that. He had embarrassed this dragon. Ridiculed it. Tormented it and chased it across the lands for 2 days to the point where it had been pushed into a corner----where it's instincts have pushed it to stop flee'ing and start fighting. Proteus had absolutely NO intention on killing the creature. Infact-----He intended on breeding it. Requiring a blood sample, to do so. However, with his own level of power roaming around at a level, he had only just recently become accustomed to, he decided to wear it down---instead of exerting himself and possibly doing it lasting harm. So it had been a day or two of surprise tactics. Hiding and hitting. Trapping and discombobulating. The massive prey item had gotten fed up of it all and gone defensive, and during it's active search, Proteus had discovered long ago that it absolutely SUCKED at seeing, smelling, or sensing anything that could find symmetry with the environment around them. So proteus had covered himself heavily within the snow, slowed his bodily functions and suppressed even the non-physical aspects of himself that could be sensed, such as the magnitude of his presnece.----to Create comfort in the creature, enough for it to back track over it's territory. As it came up and over a low-Hill pass, back into the evergreens, it ultimately came closer to the waiting Proteus just 40 meters ahead of it. Unbothered by it's sheer size, magnitude and the intensity in which it presented itself. Allowing "Muu-Muu" to come closer and closer.....
  25. 16, April 1678AY Archipelago, Garuda-Scarab Thursday, 12:00P.M The word had not reached the newly found island yet that a force of evil was coming. That the people would not be prepared and though they would not be, they had something on their side, a Valentina. But they would still be outmatched. Salsa stood outside the city of Archipelago, as she wondered how things were doing for Jack. He had lost his form to a shard, had the legendary sword and shield that was corroding him. Yet, she was wary as to not letting him trick her. Inside the town hall, elder Ridley Vira Nebulous-Ashlyn had been forming a plan. His maps laid out as his grey eyes stared at it still. The thing was that the demons of old resided here at one point. They changed the subjects--people into creatures, or even demons. The oldest elf family of October remained untouched but for how long? "Ser?" The young elf knight, Vanilla June Zenith October asked as she looked at the elder with pink-white eyes. "Still can't figure out a plan?" "Unfortunately not. Even if the Valentina attacked, and even with the other Valentina helping us--we're still outnumbered." Ridley spoke as he looked up. "Gallus, any ideas to figure something out?" "Well, we do have those soldiers trained from Athentha, plus the Valentina and October houses. We have a fair shot at this, as long as we don't lose the mages." Gallus replied. Ridley sighed. It was a long shot indeed.
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