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Found 621 results

  1. DextrisESNo666

    Star Wars: Project Zeta

    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.
  2. Acies ab Vesania

    Tavern of Legend Season 3

    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.
  3. 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."
  4. 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.
  5. 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.
  6. 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.
  7. Etched in Stone

    Chateau De Choisel | ENTER AT RISK

    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.
  8. 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..."
  9. 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
  10. Ataraxy

    The Reverie Ball (Open Hub)

    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
  11. ChaosLord

    The Plague: Weland

    "Uhg....what a day" said a certain cat boy.....or rather, a cat man who appeared as a boy, said as he entered the doors of the changing room at the current place he was staying at, the Saezaeshita Hot Spring and Onsen, which was equipped with a fully developed and wonderfully made facility for him to rest and relax after a hard day's work. He had recieved an urgent request from a local hospital that had been overburdened to help deal with the recent influx or patients. And somehow, he ended up assisting with surgery to repair a man's heart. Lyrian quickly took off all his clothes and then grabbed a towel, slinging it across his shoulder instead of wrapping it around his waist. He was a doctor after all, he changed with everyone else in the locker room every day, took cleansing showers with the rest of the staff after surgery or dealing with infectious patients, and had to change the clothes of his patients even and see them naked just like how most of the staff had seen him naked today. Sure, he looked young, but that was because he was a rare strain of cat people. He looked 12, maybe 13, but he was actually 22 years old. And it did not stop him from getting married, though it did not stop the divorce either. He did think it was odd though, he thought a number of the patients had the same symptoms. The hospital took measures of course to prevent diseases from spreading, including having some of their lighting fixtures radiate light that helps deal with diseases at a level harmless to people, and had other methods as well. He started to think through all of his notes that he had taken today, but quickly shook it out of his head. He had just worked 26 hours non stop, he needed to spend some time soaking in a hot springs. He soon entered the bathing area, and went over and sat on a stool while he placed his towel in a safe spot, washing his body off before he would get into the water. He wondered if anyone was going to offer to wash his back like what sometimes happened at places like this, but for now he just started on his own so he could quickly enter the water. "I hope they wont need as much help tomorrow. I can work with low sleep just fine, but its not like I enjoy it...." he mentioned, as he enjoyed the atmosphere of the open air of the hot springs even while washing off his body before he had entered the water, including the air that felt like it cleared his nose right up and rejuvenated his body already.
  12. 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
  13. 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.
  14. Grubbistch

    In Gaia We Trust

    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.
  15. A Night To Remember A woman of pale skin and deep red hair danced. Choreographed and in sync with the booming music of a loud party that smelled of affluence and greed. She danced. She danced for Money. She danced for attention. She danced because she had to. She danced to survive. A cityscape of lights, buildings, and a patchwork of lives and stories were the backdrop to a party taking place on a hillside manor that hung tightly to the cliff it was built upon. It’s rich and artful design reeked of money gained from less than admirable revenues. Yet that didn’t bother her. Miss Blonde watched the young woman from the sidelines. With a stiff drink in her hand, the Crime Lord took a hard swig before turning to the right and moving away from the cliffside deck that overlooked the vast cityscape of Hellsgate. It was all too familiar to her. The chatting around the pool, the lights, the fake laughter, the hedonism. She had grown up in a world like this, and she had grown tired of it. She had grown tired of the parties and the people who gussied themselves up for a night of vanity self indulgence. A night of whose who and whose wearing what label. It was all so very superficial. Yet, she was here. She was here for a reason. One that was beyond the vanity and glitz of the evening. Solomon the PlanesWalker, a man who could navigate dimensions from what she was told. A man who could help her achieve the goal that had eluded her for these last few months. A man who she intended to either hire or force into her service. Though Miss Blonde wasn’t alone in this task, she was with someone who had given her hope. She was with Jack, a man who she loved and had become quickly enamored with as she spent more and more time in this realm. So much so that she didn’t want to return home. Spotting him at the bar in the living room of this manor, she stepped past the random pairings of people finding love for the evening. She pushed past the haze of smoke and illicit drugs that were being smoked and injected. She walked steadily to find Jack at the bar and stand next to him. Her dark metallic mask stared up at him and he’d be able to tell that she was concerned. The guest of honor had yet to arrive and despite all her planning, it all came down to whether or not some drunken debauched wizard decided to come to a party. ”Keep your eyes open. I imagine there’s a lot of people here who are dealing with their own business tonight.”!Her robotic laced voice said to Jack before downing her drink and ordering another from the barkeep. Tonight was going to go south. She could feel it in her bones. @danzilla3
  16. For the first time... ever... Thurgood and Aveline Singlance took a rigid aerostat to the very well illuminated commercial city. It cost significantly more to do so, but Aveline brought her F-350 along with a thirty-foot gooseneck flatbed trailer that was enclosed until a hydra neck flattened it. The only reason it's servicable now is because of a lot of wood and bolts. The tires don't even have air: they're filled with dried grasses that more or less serve the same function. But Port Sun is a large city, and would be slow to travel on foot. Besides, how would they get the cargo back to Lunaris from Casper? Unfortunately, all the airships departing from anywhere on Ursa Madeum were completely crammed for months. What brought them here though, is their rapidly dwindling supply of soda syrup Thurgood brought back on his last (most likely ever) trip to Gaia Prime. So they need to find a source on Valucre. In the process, they hope to perhaps make some business connections, so once their industrial projects in Ursa Madeum start producing, they may find buyers. First order of business though, is to convert their Terran precious metallic coin into Renovatian gemstone coin. So once again, the diesel engine growls as it powers the truck, trailer, and siblings through the underground tunnels into the city proper. @Thotification @SteamWarden
  17. Haelikor

    WAR!!!!

    War. War has forever changed. After Haelikor crowned himself the board leader of the One Line RP Board Supernal created while presumably intoxicated (both Haelikor and Supernal respectively), Hael began to do many cool things. Photoshop stuff. Create tanks. Or something? Well anywho, everything is on fire now. And war has happened. It's not very good - unless you desire war, then it is pretty good. Inordinately good even. Meanwhile, on YouTube, there was drama or something? So Andy Warski, a YouTube content creator, was struck with Meme Magic and transformed into Adam Racewarski - an extreme terrorist hellbent on killing all staff of the card game Magic the Gathering. He as well also began to kill the people and light things on fire. But not for long. You (and several hundred other people but don't worry you're special) are parachuted into the- the capital of One Line RP which I guess is now LA? As you land, you're greeted by the helper robot which helps you know stuff. "Beep boop or some shit. Fuck you! I am your slave robot. I am designated as ... Tacos & Burritos. I don't know why. I'm here to help you select your class. Don't attack me or I'll grind you into bacon bits to further augment my burrito capacitor. Those are metaphors." Alright! You get to select your CLASS! CLASS OPTION A :: MAGIC SWORDSMAN Your advantage is you are really good with swords, and the swords can poop magic. Any kind of magic. Planar manipulation, time control. You name it! Your disadvantage is that you have to wear at least 98 belts, and no less than 7 of them have to constrict the blood flow to your groin. So much so, you're dying. You can use your magic to ease the process but nothing you can do can remove those belts; even becoming incorporeal will constrict your (wiener)(clam)(ambiguous). So to avoid dying, you have to sleep for 23 out of the 24 hours in a day. If someone finds you while you're sleeping, they can tighten the belts one rung more, killing you instantly. CLASS OPTION B :: CONSTRUCTION WORKER Your advantage is you're buff and strong from years of manual labor, so you have super strength and can suplex skyscrapers. The downside is you don't have a lifetime of debt from going to college for 12 years, so you're illiterate and you can't tie your shoelaces but feel compelled to still wear shoes with strings on them, causing a 50% chance to trip over yourself anywhere you go. CLASS OPTION C :: COMPUTER HACKER You're smart. Your parents told you so. You're so smart, you can hack anything kid - you can whip out your USB keyboard with overclocked RAM and 5x DPI to access the mainframe of street signs, change the CSS of the sidewalk, or even backtrace the database of your foes. However, such intellect does come with a price. You have cancer. That's unfortunate. CLASS OPTION D :: HARASSER You are a vile scum, a true rogue of the town. You can lock onto one target(victim) and begin lobbing verbal abuse at them, debuffing them immensely. However, you can only focus on one person at a time for this effect, making you strong at solo PVP but weak at group PVP; as well also, you have to carry a Waifu Body Pillow (waifu of your choice) at all times. If your Waifu Body Pillow is destroyed, you must pray to your waifu for 24 hours to be redeemed, or forever be a BANNED HARASSER. That's not all. There are more classes that will be added with the expansion packs. Some will require unlocking. Watch out! "buh hael what about multi-classing?" You are allowed to multi-class. However, you must pick an initial class, then go through town until you find THE SEWER OF MULTI-CLASSING. There, you must cut off one of your limbs. This removal of said limb is both permanent and magically disables gaining any more limbs (I'm looking at you, Magic Swordsmen!); you may do this for as many class options and as many limbs as you have available. ...however... you didn't think it ended just there did you? Oh you foolish little person of ambiguous sex you! "Zip bobba beep bop. Uh. Select your... race I guess? Or something? I guess you were too fucking stupid to know what it was until now but now you do. Good on you." [CURRENT BASE GAME RACES] [[HUMAN]] ADVANTAGES - To represent the versatility of your kind, you ignore the limb penalty for one multi-class option! DISADVANTAGES - You suck ass. [[ORC]] ADVANTAGES - You're green. As well also, to represent the virility of your race, you can ignore the drawback of your first class. DISADVANTAGES - There are no elves for you to fornicate with. Deprived of a sense of purpose, your character is depressed. You must always give brooding edge-lord statements. [[ANDROID]] ADVANTAGES - Your base stats are very high. You're faster, stronger, smarter. DISADVANTAGES - You don't have a penis. Even if female - you don't have a penis. As well also, you are exceptionally vulnerable to Computer Hackers. [[CHARLES BARKLEY]] ADVANTAGES - You have a godlike gift for the game of b-ball. You can run very fast, and you can dunk on fools no problem. DISADVANTAGES - You are not a role model. This lack of charisma makes people supernaturally compelled to be hostile towards you, even if they normally wouldn't be. MORE RACES COMING IN THE NEXT EXPANSION, "Heaven's Block IV." Begin!
  18. Fallen Joy

    Dancing Through Deserts

    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.
  19. supernal

    Military Base #34

    Artist: ned-rogers Note: open to members of the military only Purpose Inspired by Daniel Sage's Base #33, the purpose of this military base is to serve as a central meeting hub for members of the military that want to interact with other soldiers outside of missions. Examples of the kind of activity that make the best use of this hub are: Rest / idle time going into, or coming out of, an active mission Practicing skills and maneuvers relevant to your unit Making use of specialized tournament and training fields for those wishing to spar, practice combat, work in teams, and so on. Practicing coursework in the library or with members from other departments to shift from one branch of service to another or to collaborate on mission intelligence Layout Bali's Bistro: A 10 mile march away from the base is Bali's Bistro. If the food in the mess hall is too bland or not alcoholic enough, visit Bali's Bistro for food whose "not free" price tag reflects an uptick in quality and alcohol. Barracks: Where the soldiers go to sleep! Communications Depot: Where soldiers can send and receive communications in any media, ranging from paper letters to holo-array projections, and can range from plaintext public communications to encrypted private and secret communications - basically players can send messages to one another through here Library: Since the advent of the Crook and its connections to TSM, this base offers public access terminals to TSM stored data. A smaller number of military terminals can be used for encrypted communications and access to confidential data. Mess hall: An attached edifice where a soldier can go to get their three square meals a day and chat it up with other soldiers. Food served only at 8AM, at 12PM, and at 4PM. Potemkin village: A small dummy village has been setup nearby for saboteurs to destroy and engineers to rebuild. Training fields: Specialized rings and fields for those wishing to spar or practice combat in simulated environments, both one on one and in small teams. Security It's a military base. Not interested in making this a combat zone but yeah, it's got defenses
  20. 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.
  21. The way the world seem to be heading for has told time and time again that Lexdord requires a new motive of transport for incase they weaken into nothing "Today we are what? A piron Engine? Do you know what that takes, how long it might take to even bring it online?" As Rotwell had sent his team of scientist to work on the projects. "yes Rotwell I know but you've got to understand that this world is the way to its end if you havent seen the reports.....so were going with building that Piron engine early rather then late" The King had said through a secure line "Dont say I didn't warn, these things are fragile as well Cap'n" "Then we'll cover it with protective metals. Now stop complaining and get reserching! Ill fax you the list of priority things." Then the screen went dark laveing Rotwell to start on the first of very difficult project to come. The scientist were baffled as neither of them knew what a Piron engine was, yet from what whas heard about it, it had something to do with super magnetic charged ion particals. The list of other technologies that were to be a priority went through the system's computer and copied itself as a paper listing just what the king wanted by the end of the year. "He does know that its not going to be easy..." As the small model funnel shape steel outer mid cast of the engine was being constructed to give it as an example of what the end product was surpost to look like. Rotwell announced to the scientist in an enclosed disclosed room about the engine and explained its purpose "So this is whats known as a piron engine" its sleek silver streaks that when compared with other engines was pretty unique. with its sharply shaped front and back enclosing a cylinder like sphere enclosed within the classic funnle cone shape of an engine "This is recalled as one of the finest engines that could ever be" of course that probely wasn't true anymore as things get updated all the time, however based on the information left from the damaged data base it pretty much was true to them. "everything that we are to work on for the future of not just our own...but the future of Valcure. As you have heard there are ELE (Extinction level events) being detected all around the globe. Though meny are quickly calmed and relived there are a few however that are currently growing at an unprecedented pace and soon it would be too late." saying this somberly as he dramatizes the large scale events like Elderion's spiritual end, and what ever was going on in Kadia. "as you can see the end will soon come...but will all of us have to face it? Mabye not....mabye if we discover enough to to something about it no one will have to die yet there are some that chose to kill rather then save and because of this....we have left them and actully everyone out of this." depicting that the project remain a secret even to the closest of allies. "And because of this you all might be living here for a while, something like.....4-5 months but then again you shouldn't seem surprised as this is what we all signed up for... To give our lives to research and to presue better technologies, we were never told to just stop" as the scientists stared with blank faces, hiding their regret within newfound responsibilities. As the fate of everything they knew could hang upon their research. They headed over to reaserch bay one
  22. "The mind was a place of privacy, a place of secrets, and where great ideas come to be. But what if we could hack it?" The base was silent yet it was crowded, a meny around, walking quietly through the halls of concrete and metal. below around a mile underground lay a box and a prisoner test subject tied up next to it, it was occasional that testing of secret projects happened in this location (as its so secret im am liable to not give away any description of its location). this time however the test was neurological, to see if the test subject could be more then just influenced by phycic energy, but controlled, assimilated rehabilitated and the scientist had to make sure to impact that person permanently in someway. "Rotwell ,commander Holgan is arriving hes coming to check up on the project!" "Well then lets give this man a good show and tell then, not too much show though, we wouldn't want to take too much time." He said excitedly but quietly "Front and center" came in the Holgan quietly "why is there to be silence here? I wasn't informed about it" "Ohh not to worry, we were just informed yesterday anyways moving on theres the thing you came to see" pointing at the box as it began its testing phase. [Insert sci-fi sounds] as it came online. Nearly instantly the test subject began violently shaking and began screaming and yelling "Still just influencing the subject's mind but...its not actully controlling it, thats still a shame but were getting there, I mean attention to the screen" as he went to a computer on the side and pressed some keys that displayed the subject's brain and a energy signature attempting to break through the brain. "Yea the mechine attempts to 'drill' into the Victim's subjuct's mind iteslf" As the screens displayed that the signature wasnt getting all the way through the brain. Not yet.....
  23. Broken Mask

    Chaotic beginnings

    Deep within the land amongst the hustle and bussle of a market towns in the remote floating isles. A hidden gem amongst those who kept their noses burried in their research only dream of, a black market for all of those not so easy to find articles that most shops wouldnt dare sell. Emmeline, made her way through the crowded market of the hidden city. She was in search of a black herb known of coal ivy said to grow where those of unatural life have been spawned. This toxic little plant made a kick to her explosive potions so that the undead would slowly fall apart after being hit with the potion of her perfected recipie. Though this was only one of the many rare finds she has on her shoping list. The chime of her potion bottle rang as she walked her cloak over her brightly purple hair. Her pale blue iris scanning over the stslls as she passed nothing struck yer fancy... yet.
  24. NOTICE Music Image The Man in the Black Mantle Last Chance. A riot for the fans. In the darkness of the night, hands wear the black gloves of madness. Laughter in the slaughter after injuring the daughter. Blade to the tits, spade into bits. Kill the bitch. Scratch an itch and tickle the twitch. Stop squirming like a fish! Soak your nose in coke from my coat. So stoned, you come to know my joke. I am one sick bloke. Squeezing a throat, a pleasing choke. Cough!-Cough!-Cough! goes the ho. Hahahahahahaaa! Close your eyes and try and picture a modern day Jack the Ripper. Scouring the streets with an undone zipper. A half moon is tonight’s yin-yang in the sky, one bright side that illuminates an alley of escape for Blueberry as she runs, one dark side scoffing at the noise of her heels as they invite fun. Fun. Blueberry is running from fun. “Waaaahhhh!!!” Wah!-Wah!-Wah! This is a loud one. Why does she run from fun? Fun? Fun. One. One being. One entity. Me. I am Fun. Click-clack goes the composed footsteps of polished boots, black like the paws of a hellhound as it paces toward its prey. Arms are concealed within the dark depths of a mantle, though with limbs that just might shoot out to snatch a handful. As the figure walks and stalks, the flaps of its coat slightly spread to reveal red on the inside of the cloak. Top hat sits atop a head, the figure’s eyes like a ghoul’s gaze of dead butterflies; irises black, the night’s darkness swimming in them for a heart attack. Facial expression as pallid as the moon’s pale complexion. The woman calls out with a shout, limbs dangling in her girly jog through the fog, hopping like a frog to escape the hunt. Stupid cunt! “Waaaahhhh!!! No, sir! Don’t come any closer!” “Can you cry any slower?” I smile with glee. Yes, I admit it. My grin is pretty fucking twisted. Like my mind in this fine moment as I own it. Right hand is withdrawn from black cloth, brandishing the hilt of a gleaming khanjar beneath a twinkling red star. The Blueberry bitch with an itch turns her head of oceanic blue hair and snaps her head back for a frightened stare. She gasps at the sight of the blade that bears her name, and he licks the tip with a too-long tongue of be-tasting-you begging her for just a drip. The woman’s stalker need only walk to her, knowing she was heading nowhere besides a dead end with an absent prayer. The alley moaned and groaned with graveyard doom as it offered a shovel to this woman with her gloom, laughing like an old man in a rocking chair with a beer can. Here, so you can dig your own grave and twitch, you blue-eyed bitch! Doom. Now she was doomed. Tripping over one of her blue shoes, the woman tumbles forward, falling on her belly, nose busting on the concrete and turning into jelly. She screams. Against her tears, a cackle clasps the atmosphere; the musings of a malevolent mind with no time for mercy in this game of cutthroat controversy. Black boots walk the red rug of blood, knife held out, fingers coiled around hilt with no doubt. The creeper creeps closer, as graceful as a symphony's composer. Blueberry begins to crawl away, sobbing uncontrollably, hoping to live to the next day. Pleas of rescue going unheard in this dark and dank alleyway. Go on and squeak, little bird. Cry for your dad. There in the hell fair of La Ultima Opportunidad. In an instant, a hand seizes a fistful of blue hair, producing a shrill cry of pain in vain like a beaten mare. Soft, feminine hands clutch the man’s black hand. But he didn't want to dance. He straddlers her like a lover, knees dig into her ribs. She kicks and flails wildly, head craned up stylishly, hair pulled toward the sky that night. “Now, go ahead and scream, lovely. Scream like the whore you are. Scream for me.” The command was deific as the woman's tears stained her youthful visage. Kneeling just above this harlot’s swaying body, the man in the top hat just wasn't feeling that kind of naughty. He wasn't here to play cupid. He had no drive for white fluid. What he wanted was a little more red. He just wanted this squirming bitch dead. “P-Please, mister! D-Don’t kill me! Don’t…DON’T DO—“ Skluch. Razor sharp blade slit the bitch’s throat, blood spewing out like she were just some stuck pig or goat. Smiling, the Man in the Mantle keeps his victim’s head held up against her upchuck of blood. The knife falls to the ground with a clinging sound. His fingers grasp his top hat and remove it. There in the moonlit air there is no hair at all. This man was bald. A black cat creeps forward, green eyes like emeralds as they serve as haunting heralds. As a feline tongue laps at the puddle of blood, the Man in the Mantle accepts this cat’s invitation like he was on vacation. In a flash of thirst, he jerks his opened mouth to the dying woman’s neck, his former friend. The cat watches, it blinks, and the man drinks. The end.
  25. 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.
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