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Found 1,290 results

  1. Upon entering through the front double door entrance, the layout of the main lobby looks relatively simple. The ground level floor is devoted to the tavern aspect of its business. Standing at the door, Patrons can see a clear path straight towards the bar situated against the far back wall, with smaller walk ways littered through the many table sets split into two sections on the left and right of the main walk way. On the immediate left from the front door, secluded off in the corner there’s a stone mason fireplace. Lounging in front of the fire place is a single old rustic couch and two love seats comprised of leather on either side facing inward on a stretch of rug. Complimenting the immediate left fireplace is one on the right side as well with its accompany seats. Several lacquered tables dot the tavern, each with its own distance of seclusion. With the bar stretched along most of the back wall, following the polished wooden bar to the left one would find the stairs leading to the second floor in a spiral of stairs. Towards the middle behind the bar counter lingers a simple framed wooden door leading to the spacious, but rarely seen kitchen. On the immediate right end of the bar is a simple stage where musicians and singers command the presence of the patrons. The rune-marked interior for soft lighting, with its dark walls, sturdy furniture and its spacious but private layout conveys a sense of comfort and welcome. The tables and floors are kept clean, even if a bit scoffed up, but the beer is cold and the food is hot while the locale is rich with adventure. -- Welcome to the bawdy Cut and Jib, aptly named for the Tavern and Inn where most adventurers gather before making off on their next big quest. It was founded by a Terran-born family, and has remained a favorite. Infamous for the local heroes who have lived and died for their adventures, this has become the hub for all manner of communication, send-offs and welcome-homes. Here locals and foreigners from abroad meet to see if they like the cut of a person’s jib. Coordination is key, after all, when collaborating with a group for gold and glory. Though the staff do their best to attend to all, some seedy and unsavory people slip through the cracks so be on your guard. The Enforcers are never far to break up a brawl so be wary with whom you keep for company.
  2. The Sadira Amar: Tea and Tavern

    Though the outside was pristine, orderly and minimalist, the inside was warm with terracotta walls, bold patterns, high arches and cheerful, bright lantern light. Wide windows framed by wooden shutters let light filter through, illuminating lacquered mahogany tables and floors. Each table sat low, an engineering feat of interlocked pieces held in place by pegs that allow the staff to adjust the tables to greater heights for the evening crowds. Colorful futons were sprinkled throughout the area between tables, and fluffed pillows adorned the cushioned couches that were interspersed with ottomans. A long stretch of counter space where led towards the back kitchen, accessible only by the staff. Along a section of the counter were. The floors always feel warm, and the breeze from the open windows makes the enjoyment of tea all the better. The menu was rumored to be local and seasonal, based on what the gardens could provide. Laconian market provided fresh produce, dairy, and meats, while the fishermen caught beautiful salmon that were passing through the streams at the base of the mountain. A portion of the counter was lined with baskets filled with fresh baked goods from breads to cookies, some which came as suggestions to pair with a favorite tea. A set of stairs going up leads to the inn, while a second set of stairs vanish into the cellar floor. After lunch in the late afternoon, the Sadira Amar would close its doors for a few hours, and make its transformation as the staff would rearrange the furniture, close the shutters, change the menus, prepare the rooms on the upper floor where patrons could rest. A fire would occupy the grand fireplace along the far wall, the cellar would open as kegs, barrels and caskets of alcohol would make its way to the kitchen. The meats roast and the potatoes cook as a rousing night of bustling business come and go. When the doors open, patrons know they are always treated to a good time, and always come back for more. -- Welcome to the Sadira Amar Tea and Tavern, a long-awaited dream of Raveena herself and the age-old tradition of tea ceremonies. Feeling as though the practice of tea-making was a lost art, she swore one day she would open her own tea house—a dream that became a short-lived reality when she met her husband and they built a tea house over their workshop. When the siege of Predator’s Keep came about and most of the city was razed, Raveena lost both her husband as well as her dream. With the coming of Hyperion, change was in the air. Determined to make her dream a reality, she built her workshop underground adjoining the cellar—endearingly named the Crucible after her late husband, with the Sadira Amar on top, and an inn as the second story. By day, the Sadira Amar is a quaint tea house and café, serving weary travelers who need repairs to their weapons while recovering with a light meal and tea. By night, the tea house is rearranged to accommodate the rowdier tavern crowds. Meals, drinking, gambling and entertainment keeps the staff busy. Patrons pick up orders for custom weaponry soul-forged by the Raveena herself, or prepare for their next adventure while getting a feel for the local life. Though the Sadira Amar is known for its good-natured rowdiness, few have been turned away, and invoked violence is prohibited. Above all else, no one goes without a warm meal and a full cup.
  3. 1678AY, 6 June Yral, Lyonesse Thursday, 10:00A.M Rain fell as it happened. The downfall of Grant Lyon. The townsfolk started to look more and more demon than human. And Lyonesse was a land of humans mixed with demons and elves. But since the arrival of the foreign demon Raven the people began to change. Rin had a hand in this. The carriage rode to Yao Kuth with the two in silence. They were going after Vex. The man who had escaped her grasp twice now. And he was a key to stopping her. The blood moon hung in the sky even though it was morning. It was because it was the year of the Umbral moon. Meaning the moon took over the sun's place. It would glow like a sun but more reddish. As the carriage rode on it seemed that Rin was deciding her fate. Though she had already given over to the Sithis mark but there was another decision she had to make. And that dealt with the Umbral Year itself. She would have to decide if she would become the next demon King. So as the carriage made its way after the demon hunter, she sat there in thought. It was the decision only she could make. That she would either walk the path she wanted to so long ago to make peace or become what her father made her to be. Rin placed an alabaster hand to her head as she sat there. The carriage riding on in hurry to reach Yao Kuth. Time was no longer on her side. ------- Vex rode on as he tried to find the location of the elder. Elder Alvin was his name. An elder who was a loud and stoutly man. He is 6'0 and had red short hair with green eyes. He was dressed in blue and gold robes. Yet he had housed the council building in a smaller city than Yral. It was probably to hide the base from Rin and anyone who wanted to kill him. Yet as he rode, the demon hunter eyed the building in the distance. It was half built and rising. Could it be the new temple? Vex would ask as he arrived. Jumping off the horse, he made his way into Yao Kuth towards the elder's castle. He would have to hurry and find the man. He needed to tell him what happened.. That Lyonesse was changing. They needed to gather the knights. War was coming. Rushing through the castle, Vex pushed forth among the crowds of people here to question the elder. Elder Alvin didn't address any of them as he holed up in his office. The carrier pigeon had come and he had read the letter sent by Elder Yazu. Vex slammed opened the office door as he eyed the elder cowaring in the hole under his desk. Closing them behind him, the demon hunter sighed. "You're supposed to be addressing your people. Supposed to be their guide in this dark time. And you hide in here allowing Grant Lyon to die. Sayndar lost, that artifact you held so dearly to watch over the old man where did he go?!" "Vex--" "You let us down this path. Brought me down it. Now where do you go when the monster is at our doorstep? Eating the people, changing them into god knows what. You do know she has an ally now. That he killed Lyon?" Alvin looked down at the note clutched in his hand. Yazu's note. Vex shook his head. Was he truly alone in this matter?
  4. OOC Quest of Babdol

    A group of interesting individuals, go on a quest to solve the murder of a zombie. The story revolves around a strange obsidian ring.
  5. A encounter at the The Stately Hero.

    (First time on this site so yea) *Vynellin would be at the bar counter talking to the bar keep about pay. He would have asked if there was any new jobs opening up at the time. He would also have just a glass of wine infront of him as well as a steak. Seems he brought the steak in him self.* Well I only ask cause the current job while pays good isnt my type of thing I like to do. So yea that is all. But thank you anyways. *With that hed go and find a table. He wouldnt go into the corner hed just find a empty table and sit down in it and begin to eat his food and drink his wine.*
  6. Fight Academy

    Hello, and welcome to Fight Academy, a school for the gifted or those with near-genius to genius intellect. My name is Clash Fa. For those of you who have not yet made their way through Combat 101, I will be your instructor. The academy is split up in-to two teams, Team A and Team B, who will do battle with one an-other. Select your team and choose your weapon! Team A: Clash Fa Team B: Sleeping Knight
  7. 1678AY, 5 June Absolon, Athentha Thursday, 10:00A.M A steady rain fell as the morning hours drew breath. But the rumor of war was on everyone's lips. That this time it couldn't be stopped. As the rain continued to fall, the people crowded the castle that resided in Absolon and housed the elder that was supposed to be peotecting them. The townsfolk had gotten wind that the elders of Allia and Talia had been murdered by a rogue beast. And yet they feared it would come here. With Lyonesse's temple destroyed and the shaman killed, Athentha's people had little hope. They feared that they would get caught up in the war without a way out. But as Yazu approached the balcony, they wanted answers as what was going to happen. Would they all be killed or enslaved to the beast? Could they kill it without the shaman or temple? Didn't they restrain her? Seal her away if that was the only answer? The people wanted something to comfort them. Yazu sighed. Being an elder and leader of the island meant he had to tell the people something even if it wasn't comforting. Yazu opened the doors that led out to the balcony as he eyed the townsfolk, most here relying on the elder to solve their problems, others wanting to know if they had a plan. Most wanted answers. The elder stood as he placed his old hands on the wood that lined the balcony, eyeing the people. He knew that he had done a somewhat good job here, but he coyld do better to try and reassure them. Even if he lied a little. "My dear citizens. I know you're afraid, frightened because of what has happened. We have lost so many good people to a monster allowed to remain. We have lost our tools to stop her. But I assure you that we can win this war. That we don't need those old tools. We are researching new ways to combat the rogue princess. And we will win the war against her. Our knights are meeting up with the pocket of resistance in Hydra." The townsfolk didn't know how to respond. Didn't know how to feel about this announcement. And they stood there staring at their leader. He was suppose to be their leader. Yet he was hiding something. He didn't reassure them enough and as Yazu turned to go back in, a young elven maiden came forth. "How does that help us now? You say that a war is breaking out, we have no means to defend ourselves and the enemy could take more of us. What do you plan to do? You're supposed to be our leader. Protect us. What are you doing to make sure no one else is taken? Killed?" Yazu sighed. She was right. Of course he didn't have all the answers. But he was working towards them. He would let them in on it soon enough. He looked over his shoulder towards the elf. "I am doing everything to make sure you are safe. A knight is posted at every entrance to every city of Athentha. There are checkins of whatever is brought in. Curfew is at 10pm, meaning no one is to be outside after that. And if you see the princess, do not engage her, find a knight." With that he headed back inside leaving the townsfolk standing there. Not sure what to accept. In truth, they were afraid of what was coming. A monster who wanted to tear them all apart. War was inevitable now.
  8. [Quest] To BECOME DEATH...

    [Recap] In these past events, the Kingdom of Taurus and it's Ruler has seen much change. Seeking answers in regard to his origins and his fathers legacy, Proteus Rauz found himself exiled to the Celestial Realm---Where the Absolute Authority, confines and contains the remaining progenitors of his race. Time stood still there... he was subjected to their test, trials and tribulations and experimentation, meanwhile the kingdom and home he knew would be devoid of his presence for over 1,000 years. Proteus' liberation came at the expense of the captives lives. Destroying the last remnants of his bloodline, retaking prized possessions destined for his ownership and flinging himself back across the planes of existence and back home where he emerged anew. Proteus Rauz had emerged Anew. Changed. Different. Not only was he far older, hardened even, his powers had grown exponentially as did his control over them. His views and outlooks on his path and those of his people had also been altered. Having established a relationship with the powers that be in the lands of Alterion, Proteus, under his own power had moved the entirety of his kingdom from the Lands of Genesaris, to the Spirit Realm of Xaengri-La. Where he would be free from mortal observation. Where his prominence could have neither positive or negative effects on the lands surrounding his kingdom, so that no balances could be tipped or disturbed and that no other governing body could benefit nor suffer. However, even as he established his kingdom, and their outer realm territories, Proteus Rauz' ideals and goals have widened and expanded. He had become somewhat of a Nihilist, embracing what he had discovered what his original intent and reason for being was. TO BRING ABOUT DEATH AND DESTRUCTION, TO ALL. His re-emergence , and return to the throne under this new ideology has put many of his closest ally's and family at an unease, Even the Queen, Priscilla---His birth mother, and the one who worked the hardest to bury the secrets of Bulls origins and true nature, has found herself at her absolute wits end as to how to guide or manager her son, and after his re-emergence, far to under-powered to force anything upon him. So silently she has watched, ever so diligently as Proteus sets about procuring the knowledge needed to accomplish his goal. His one true ideal, his one true intention----TO BECOME DEATH ITSELF. [And now....] His throne room used to bathe light. Every square inch of it, illuminated from the free flowing light from yonder. That has drastically changed. Large metal shutters existed where windows once were. They kept this place devoid of light. It was insulated, sounds were equally scarce save for that of the constant HUM of raw unbridled power flowing through 4 massive umbilical cords that ran beneath the ground up behind his throne and into a custom fitment that affixed into hard points on his back. The ONLY light present within this rume was from the Rune Brands aglow along his body in a blood red hue. It was there that he sat. His body constantly absorbing and harmonizing the seemingly limitless ebb and flow of spatio-temporal-anima present in the limitless expanse of this spiritual realm. Disconnected from his people. Departed from a society that he helped to sculpt and once coveted, but nowadays, feared him as they never have before. The Council had long been killed and disbanded by his own hand save for one who squandered away still within the confines of their prison. In truth there was only one thing that could keep Proteus situated as he was now. He had no intent on moving, nor a desire to do so because simply put he was waiting on something. That something was coveted. Desired and favored above anything at this time and it was the only thing that eluded him these days. It was pure. It was valued by anything and everyone be they Man, King or God. There was nothing exempt from it's benefit and there in it lied no TRUE face value for it, but there was also no limit to what would be expended for it. Knowledge. Plain and simple. He needed the means and understanding as to how to go about achieving his goal---which for the most part was thought to be inconceivable and impossible, however, when the Absolute authority. The Omnipotent one. "The Creator" himself, assures you that such is NOT beyond the realm of a being such as himself----You take that notion for what it's worth. There was one individual who had such knowledge, or at least could point him in the direction. This being, is and always will be favored. His most beloved. One to whom he trusted the most. Covets the most. Priscilla...The Queen, and his mother. Despite who she was to him she has also coincidentally been the greatest source of obscurity and deception. The understanding of these facts and the dynamics of them all has left Proteus shifted in stance. Wavered, somewhat unsure. As a child he clung to her every word. She molded his beliefs, directed his ideals and aspirations, All for what?? To lie? To keep the truth away from him? For what purpose? Some selfish ideal of goal of her own? It was to much for him to understand. To much for him to process, and whenever his mother was around the King was nothing short of contrived. However....she held the keys, she knew the ways, and his current goals and aspirations although no favored by her, were goals she could help him achieve. So he sat....and waited. For her.. @Lacernella Rubra
  9. Dancing on Moonbeams!

    “Give me him!” Jolted awake by unfamiliar hands, Connor opened his rather green eyes to stare at the interruption to his much needed sleep. The infant had a sour scowl on his small brow, a homage to his father no doubt. He’d been warm and comfortable and safe in the arms of his brother, and to be snatched away from it all made him angry. A yell balanced on his frowning lips, something mighty and mean only a child of a Lion could create; he took in a great gulp of air and in a moment of grandeur the small babe screamed high over the festivities. Primera laughed at the dark haired, green eyed babe, clearly loving his response. Holding the sweet thing close to her chest, the red haired woman bounced him gently and spoke to him as if he understood her words, as if he could grasp the meaning of what she's saying. “Your mother gave you those lungs and your father gave you the words accommodating them. Here, my Black Lion, your words are law and your strength our strength.” She peppered kisses across his brow, soothing the wrinkles there before moving to his soft cheeks moist with tears. “Renovatio is your domain! Here the moon wanes for you and the sun rises at your will. Tell me my Prince, would you like a crown of stars or should I leave them for all to adore? A garland of planets or maybe armour carved from the nights sky?” Desmond had forgotten Primera's exuberance two-fold, now only reminded of it as she raises his brother to the sky and speaks to him about stars and planets. He loved how Connor screamed for seconds before being swept away in the Grande Kommandant’s love and warmth, calming underneath her kisses and promises. “You spoil him any more and he'll be cashing in on your claims sweet sister.” The Imperial Prince nervously laughed to hide his random gasp in response to the woman throwing his sibling in the air. “Spoiled?!” She whirled on her brother-in-law, causing the fabric of her dress to billow beneath her like lazy clouds strung across an equally lazy sky. “Black Lion you are not spoiled, don't let your brother tell you such lies. You need not ask for anything, want for anything; you are Prince Grande, my True Love, my Everything - Absolute. You are not spoiled, you are you.” Connor looked to preen underneath Primera's interpretation of him. Tears dried and anger snuffed, the baby cooed and played with her hair, happy to be treated for what he is. Desmond was at a loss on what to do, so to occupy his now empty arms he stuffed his hands into his deep pockets; a very tired smile wrinkles his handsome features, better accentuating his dark eyes and eager mouth. Connor has been a welcome balm to all their wounds, and he's delighted his Small Sister found peace in the infants sweetness. “He has grown too much these last few months. I'm not ready for him to walk yet, let alone talk! The things he's going to say.” Small conversation to fill the pregnant awkwardness surrounding them. “Primera, my Father…” how is he to say sorry? Corvinus was never one to mingle in crowds of unnecessary exuberance, only going to some because of his wife, and with her being gone … Primera nuzzled Connor’s neck, causing the small lion to squeal and giggle delightfully. The noise interrupted Desmond, leaving him silenced while the Grand Kommandant teased and tickled Connor, clearly more occupied with him then the events happening around them. And what an event it is. Avylon is alive. The streets full with people selling their wares, tripping over their finery due to the abundant drink in their empty bellies, and various games one usually find on the streets: card tricks, mind tricks, spells, and magic casting. Everywhere you turn there's an assault to the senses; the usual pristine streets of Avylon are covered in chalk ranging in color and shade. When walking the color is imprinted on your shoes, feet, gowns, and canes, forcing everyone to color their surroundings. If you're not safe, children already drenched head to toe with color, will throw buckets of chalk on you before running away. Foodstuffs flying out of every bakery and restaurant, feeding the eager people wanting to finally taste the wonders of Renovatio. Nothing, from drink to food to the entertainment, nothing cost a single cent. There was a time when Renovatio was known for its hospitality and love, and tonight Primera wants all to indulge to their full and more. The various gardens welcome any to take a few slips of the beautiful flowers for their own gardens; the carnival rides are continuous and eager to entertain child and adult. This is supposed to be a festival for the delights of strangers. Desmond can't help but admire the touch of love in each chandelier and flower vase. The great castle harboring most of the guests is a domed creation most would envy. Large windows open to the world, pillars supporting it's beauty with eagerness, golden crescent moons adding to the decor in admiration to their Goddess Steorra - it feels like home. Standing in the large dance hall he didn't feel nearly as lost as he first assumed he would. People flowed in and out like waves eating up a beach; too needy and far too curious to stay in one place too long, he noted the new arrivals and the departure of familiars. How amusing, he mused silently to himself. “Tell Corvinus he is welcome here.” It hurt to give the offer, but it felt right to do so. In the world of Renovatio the legend of lions and giants are common talk, and she knows that it may add more to the wounds in the God-Emperor's heart, yet to be surrounded by the things your loved one loved, she can't think of a better medicine to the hurt. “Only if he promises Connor to me.” She teased of course. “And what of your children?” Desmond reached for his brother, but she was a woman and she used that against him. Primera turned her naked shoulder to Desmond, bumping away his eager reach so that her back faced him. And what of her children? She didn't want the Prince to see the brief flash of anger and disappointment in her opal hues. “I have no children! You must be asking about your brothers brood.” He looked her over, tracing her silhouette with dark eyes, doing what hands wished to do. He loved her at once and it's been an issue since then and it's an issue now. She had floated towards him in a dress of simple white, wearing only a intricate circlet of white gold above her proud brow; she is perfection personified, and how much he hates his brother for being able to taste her and love her. The crystal staff that's been floating by her side was a gift from him (Desmond) to her, to give shape to the Will of Renovatio. It was a tall, beautiful thing with a crescent moon glittering at the top of it; he had wanted to gift her something that spoke of his silent, unrequited love, and to give her a weapon that better suited her. “No wrath like a mother annoyed. I hear Primero and Asher are doing well for themselves, and Ari is busy hiding in her books.” He plucked a glass of champagne off a passing waiters tray, needing something to cool his nerves and drown his sorrows. “They neglect their mother.” Desmond snorted at her pout hurled at him, almost staining the front of his dark suit thanks to the bubbly drink in his sinuses. “You can't just disown your children because they're busy solidifying their namesake.” “Try me.” Around them people danced, talked, and mingled in their group; music mingled with the conversations, making the room loud and booming. Not a single person, no matter their rank or the land they come to represent, would be given an introduction. This forced people to actually speak to one another and also to feel a little more comfortable approaching Primera. While she entertained Desmond and his brother Connor, the heir to All Things, she is an approachable woman who is already eager for new and awesome conversations.
  10. A Moonlit Flight

    It was a rather calm evening. The last highlights of the sun's rays slowly creeped towards the horizon, signaling that the end of yet another calm day was near. It wasn't often that Mladris was able to take on the full beauty that the Cold Mountains had to offer her and she wasn't the only one. The snow lay undisturbed for the most part, covering the trees and the ground. Deer and other local fauna were out and about. The few trails in the snow made that apparent but they did not bother the dragon. They bore her no ill will unlike other creatures, humans were her main problem but she could handle them. She had observed none in weeks, not since she flew down to the ocean and came upon a rather curious band of individuals. One was a young woman, there was something unusual about her that she couldn't quite put a talon on. Definitely magic oriented. Then again, there are still quite a few creatures/beings that she was unfamiliar with. With a rumble, the dragon shifted from stomach up onto all fours and then began to move to the mouth of her cave. The sky was streaked with orange, yellow, red, and a hint of blue as the sun's retreat began to close to an end. The moon was beginning to make a appearance and it was full this night. "Hmm...a perfect time for a flight." She said to herself as she stretched her wings, flapping them a few times to get rid of the stiffness and then with one powerful stroke, she was in the air. Thud. Thud. Thud. The downward stroke of her wings caused the trees to sway back and forth as well as shaking the snow off of them. She maintained her current altitude above the treelike, just enough room for her wings to not skim the trees.
  11. Chateau De Choisel [Haunted Glen]

    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. Boudoir The boudoir is the private suite of rooms for the lady of the house. Specifically for bathing and dressing, adjacent to her bedchamber. The boudoir was also used as her private drawing room, intended to be a sanctum for her to embroider or entertain intimate guests. 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 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 was a small bar, there others 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. Here too one can find and have the popular and valuable Elixir of Life, for a cost. They are hosted in clean cells after their ingestion of the brew and held there until after their change. Falconry The circular stone structure boasts itself as the home of pigeons, falcons and eagles used for the hunting pleasure of the Lord and Master and his esteemed gyests. Housed away from trees or areas were predators could take advantage of the important assets. 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. *Since we have many locations listed, please make sure you're specific in which area you are in with some type of "" or >>. Thank you and enjoy.
  12. Da Wae

    No matter where he treads, the reactions are all the same. A lone being that identifies as human in form approaches several others with a aura seeping through his body. To everyone he encounters or attempts to approach, he is a large red flag this afternoon. No rage emits from each turn down, no emotional spectrum is highlighted, it's simply comfort over opinion. He isn't lost, for he has no home. He isn't starving, for he has no appetite. He is craving the words of someone brave enough...to point him to the nearest bar. "Assassin" A man mutters and scurries away. "Heretic" another says retreating. "Civilian" the authorities called him. There is a simple exchange of words between the masked man and the guards of justice, then after a finger point towards the north, they part ways. An hour of travel and the masked man is at it again, searching for another guide, he asks questions about directions to several landscapes, makes his way there, and continues on. No GPS, just plain old fashioned touring. "This is where out of work masters go?" He says to a random woman passing him by at a monument. The strangers keep themselves complacent. "Isolation" is the nickname his inner demon has given him. All of his hard work has led him to being dismissed from school, out of a job, and now on the road seeking a new course. His latest breakthrough has yet to undergo tests. He is very eager to demonstrate his power...but to what cause? A white wooden bench in the middle of the town. A nice place for him to unclip his "Dark Knight Awakens" book from the back of his belt and start his first chapter this sunny afternoon.
  13. Senko sits comfortably in the security booth, his mirrored gaze periodically drifting from one screen to the next. "How are things on the slopes?" There is an unnaturally long pause but just before he can repeat his question a feminine voice squeaks back from a speaker. "They look good. We have a few exploding barrels and a chainsaw juggling bear on a unicycle to get into place, but we are ahead of schedule. "Good good, let me know if you need any extra help. I'm sure someone is loafing around, somewhere." Flipping a switch causes the view on his display to shift from the starting line to the inside of the nightclub. Toggling the mic on, again, he leans closer to it before speaking. "Hey, can I get a status update. Are we going to be ready for the crazy ravers?" "Yeah, we're golden..... or will be just as soon figured out what's up with these lights. Some of the bolts are loose and a few look like that'd fall at the first bass thump. We're tightening them now." Senko nods as he listens, his hand scribbling a few notes on a pad. "Do you think someone fucked with them?" There is a brief pause before the voice shoots back, "It's hard to say. It's either that or faulty hardware. We were testing the speakers last night and it might be an issue with the vibrations." Taking a moment to think it over, he runs a hand through his hair as his lips and nose scrunch. After several seconds he leans back toward the microphone. "Alright, well, make sure you check them during the party. I don't think it'd go over very well if one fell on a guest.... you know?" "Yeah, we know. Anyway the fog machine is good, it'll be nice and thick... with two C's even. Get it?" "No, no I don't. But I'll take your word for it." Before the guy can explain his comment, Senko toggles the switch again causing the monitors to switch to the spa. Actuating a joystick causes the view to pan across the mud baths, steam rooms, deprivation chambers, and massage tables. "Hey, why are we doing fortune telling in the spa?" "Something about our fortune teller needing mud, I think." Senko rotates in his chair to look at the other individual monitor the complex. "Our fortune teller needs mud?" They nod back and shrug. "Well, not exactly 'mud'. But one of them needs a 'mud' like substance. We actually have a few. Plus, you know Mr. Edmund thought the steam room added good ambiance. Plus the Spa will be the quietest building. Would you rather they do it in the club?" He considers it for a moment before toggling back to the slopes. "Why not set it up near the slopes, outside?" "God you're a fucking idiot. We don't want them to freeze." Flailing his arm about wildly, he eventually regains enough to control to brandish his index finger and level it so that it nearly jabs into the other's nose. "HEY! Watch it, I'm a world class...." World class what, Senko? Fuck up? You've fucked up a lot, fucked up really well. How's the Yami Tatsujin doing? Doing great I guess since you're working here. When was the last time you saw Koori? His hand withdraws as he turns back toward his monitor. "I'm a world class baker and if you're mean to me, I won't make you any cake." He toggles another switch, causing the view to gradually switch from room to room. If Wonderland Resorts didn't pity hire you, you'd be a homeless vagabond right now. You're nothing.
  14. Dear Mr. Van Edmund, we would love to have you participate in our grand opening. While we cannot offer you much, in exchange for your participation, we will donate 15% of all of revenue generating during our event to any charity of your choice. Sincerely, Ross Edmund Manger, Wonderland Resorts P.S. Please wear your old uniform, it's very iconic and the kids will love it. Van's hand holds the invitation firmly in an effort to defy the wind that seems to desperately want to steal the paper away. There aren't many things in life that scare the peacekeeper, however the uncertainty about what he's doing there is steadily eating away at his resolve. It was one thing to punch bad guys in the face, a completely different thing to deal with excited and jovial crowds. Pushing the double doors open, Van crosses into the rotunda of the lodge and b-lines for the front desk. A gloved hand falls toward the bell but he stops when he hears a polite cough. Glancing up, smalt irides lock with a black haired man in a pin stripped dress suit. "Hey, I am..." A chuckle interrupts him, "I know who you are Mr. Edmund, don't be silly. I love your scarf, by the way, it's so chic." Van smiles, although bashfully, as he averts his gaze toward the yellow cloth that hangs over his left shoulder. "Yeah, it's something else." He hadn't worn the blue jacket, the scarf, or the gloves in years. In fact, he was surprised that he not only still had it but that it still fit. "Anyway, you can call me Van. I'm hear to see Mr. Ross Edmund." The man behind the desk nods, "Yes, of course you are. By chance, are you and Mr. Edmund related?" Van shakes his head from side to side. "No, this will be the first time I've ever met him." "Ah, well, that meeting will have to wait." Van's left eyebrow lifts at the statement, his lips parting to inquire. "Don't worry, you will meet him later. He has a prior engagement." Van nods in response, it made sense that the manager would be busy on the opening day. "So" Van slips the invitation into his pocket as he talks, "what exactly did you guys have planned? Meet and greet?" "No Sir. A dunk tank." "A wha?" "A dunk tank. You'll be sitting on a platform suspended over one of our pools. People will throw rocks at a target and if they hit the right one, in you go. You won't be the only one being dunked, but you will most certainly be the most famous." "I...you're.... being... serious?" "I absolutely am. The children will love it. They can claim they beat a Peacekeeper! Just imagine." "Oh, trust me. I'm imagining it." Van's visage twists with frown lines as his arms cross in front of his chest. His head cants every so slightly to the right as his brows furrow. "Well, Mr. Edmu... err Van. You can always choose not to do it, but you'll be disappointing a lot of children. And if you don't do it, we also will not be donating to the Civil War Relief fund. What's the harm? It'll be a blast." "I really hate your boss right now." The statement is made with a sigh of resignation as the peacekeeper accepts his fate. "What did I get myself into?" From his vantage point, about 50' above the chilled mineral water pool, Van has a full view of the water park. There had to be miles of indoor river flowing from one pool to the next, some flowed downhill at such wild angles that they might of well have been water slides. Others actually traveled almost near vertically up, a reverse waterfall of some type that people could ride. In the very center a stage hangs from the ceiling, the final touches being put onto it for the comedy show. Glancing behind him, closer to the pool, four large virtual bullseyes float, twist, bounce, and hover in a fixed and predictable pattern. Apparently only one of them would trigger the catwalk he was standing on to collapse. "The fuck have I gotten myself into?" The words are near whispered, along with a simple prayer, "Gaia help me."
  15. The dark ruler, announced Lord of Vampires, Him of Crows ascended from his profound sleep right around a couple of months back in the Haunted Glen. Relics of shrewdness and exceptional power was the reason for his entry from the place he called the Underworld. It was there he procured the Chateau De Choisel, an mansion once colonized by a coven of local vampyre. Heavily protected by undead of assorted types, figures of grotesqueness, a few packs of spiritual apparition wolves, and the colossal interwoven tissue mass; a blundering monstrosity cobbled together from save parts in awkward satire of a human frame. It is even said that with the end goal for one to make it into the Chateau, one should discover it's way through the consistently changing hauntings of a labyrinth with only one true path. It wasn't long after until the point when he transformed the haunted bequest into what might be known as a Crack House and Feeding Sanctum for all to come enjoy their most out of control drugs or lusty fantasies in a prison chamber underneath the Manor itself. Just for a little expense, obviously. Volunteers whom served the standard of Choisel were compensated for their administrations, while numerous other people who wanted the private quarters without wanting to stress over their criminal treacherous exercises were charged every hour for said housing. Alongside his wake, he brought with him a large number of his coven from the House of Choisel. This enormity of man, demon, however more essentially, the Congregation of Kabbalat alluded to him as the Antichrist, vanquished all in which resisted his army, power, and his honored position as a leader of the Underworld. He crushed numerous mortal creatures, numerous proclaimed rulers and their kingdoms had fallen unfit against the oppression and mayhem that was delivered from the colossal Kronos of the Thirsty. A divine being among divine beings, the son of the devil, unadulterated with fiendishness and immortality as legend predicted it, this monstrosity was relentless in his rule of darkness curtaining over the lands. He conceded all and any the chance at an everlasting life, wealth for more noteworthy than any lord could offer thusly for their fealty, their souls, the taste and extravagance of their blood. Numerous would decrease such an offer considered crazy and unworthy, yet what they neglected to acknowledge in this supposed life and age everything had accompanied a cost. Nothing would be free, not even the air they inhaled, or the water they would drink. While others discovered this offering a possibility at recovery, to start over again, having something that was once never envisioned. Hundreds would accumulate under the Choisel House for the guarantees. They would find that what the man proposed was undoubtedly not a fabrication, they were given similarly as he said everything any man or lady who had never had such an open door, this was not a lie but rather a fact in his words. A dark legion would ascend over hundreds of undead fiends, wendigos, banshee, rotting cadavers, lost souls and vampires join under the lordship of that solitary element. His matchless quality over the Glen had turned into a power to figure, an alarming nightmare. With his control over the domain and thanks to his personal assistant and Doctor approached an ailment, the vampiric torment, otherwise called Elixurl Vietti or the Elixir of Life. In return for her administrations he set up a little facility for her work studies about and gave her vital subsidizing through various producing livelihoods. Publicized as a cure all remedy, this Exilir was advised to allow it's consumer imperishability and impeccable essentialness. From the Glen to fourty miles North in the Copper City known as Tia, this vial of thick and unscented red liquid was managed uninhibitedly at no cost to start what was known as the time for testing. Numerous which were wiped out and sick with hopeless infections and maladies went for this Elixir originating from all sides of Terrenus just to get it's 100% adequacy and free their infirmities which even specialists asserted meds couldn't cure. They weren't right. Not exclusively were the doctors off base, the general population of Terrenus had no clue on how they were really being freed free of what even the best specialists said was incomprehensible. One was to drink just a solitary seven milligram vial of the cure. In any case, this cure accomplished something other than cure their ailment. It transformed them into vampire under the summon of the unrivaled, Leinhart Choisel. Inside six to twelve hours of introduction, the casualty built up a cerebral pain, fever, chills and other influenza like side effects—and also an uncommon increment in digestion and heart yield as the infection spreaded all through the body. These indications were effectively mistaken for more typical contaminations. This stage by and large kept going another six to twelve hours. Stage one was known as the Contamination. Inside 24 hours of presentation, the casualty slipped into a vampiric extreme lethargies. Around 10 hours into this stage, the heart beat moderates, breathing is shallow and the understudies are expanded. Thousands have been buried alive along these lines. While it is usually trusted that anybody tainted transforms into a vampire, in truth just a little level of individuals survive the vampiric extreme lethargies. By and large, the youthful, old and weak never leave their trance states and in the long beyond words, by far most of survivors are males between the ages of 18 to 35. For the last gathering, the vampiric trance like state last about a day and commonly end around evening time, yet the previous statistic may wait for an extra day or so before death. Stage two was known as the Unconsciousness. A casualty who survived the unconsciousness stirred completely changed into a vampire. An acclimation period takes after—described by perplexity, depression and neurosis, alongside the distress of drying out and lack of healthy sustenance. Before long, a mind-boggling strive after blood assumes control and muffles every single other need and concerns. Inside 24 hours of change, the vampire deserted its previous life and start chasing—beginning with pets, and even loved ones, if require be. The last stage was known as the Change. It wasn't long after his welcome into Tia that he procured almost a thousand followers because of the establishing of said Elixir. An extensive bit of the Copper City had tumbled to his control, the lesser vampyre there were no match for the pureblood and his coven. Just on the edges of the Haunted, fifty miles underneath the Gaian Foundation raised a city once directed by a gathering of religious individuals. A victorian-esque town of old an antiquated. It was the main place noone would expect such a grave abhorrence to wait about. Crosses and religious symbols of godly imagery still stood tall as relics of the past, talking stories and legends that never again existed. These individuals were the first to attempt and foil his activities of populating the zone with vampires. Rather, they fell impressively, obliterating to fiery debris. This was truth to exposed witness that no Congregation of God could annul this creature. Presently overran by the House of Choisel, the place filled in as one of a few reserve spots for his criminal movements. The dark legion had amassed themselves there under what appeared to now be an endless Red Moon. Merely, it was just the beginning.
  16. Wonderland Resort

    (This is the general hub thread. It represents the entirety of the resort. Links will be posted to this post as event threads open up.) Winding up the mountain are a series of trails, trams, and lifts that create a web of ascents and descents that turn the once barren terrain into a work of modern art. The beauty certainly can’t be called natural by any stretch of the imagination, however there is definitely something breathtaking about it. At the nexus of all these pathways, near the zenith of the mountain, a massive complex of interconnected buildings sits in near solitude. At first glance they appear to be wood, maybe oak or maple. However, careful inspection reveals that they are brushed concrete, stained to look like planks. This is part of the charming illusion, for as fake as the wood is, so is the snow. The high altitude minimizes precipitation, but the ever industrious and crafty engineers of Wonderland Resorts ™ were delighted by this challenge and cooked up a wonderful concoction known as Everlast Snow ™. And so, it is, that there is never not snow. Fresh powdery, soft, not made of water, definitely never melts, could be toxic so please don’t eat it (please sign the waiver!), beautiful shimmering and glittering super white (racist white?), supersolid (So solid it is liquid! But not really.) snow. Of course, one doesn’t just come to a ski resort for not-snow ®. That would be preposterous, ridiculous, unimaginably foolish, and silly beyond all means of comprehension. When one abandons their comfortable lifestyle, their cushy chairs, and their nice warm homes to go barreling down steep, sleek, deadly mountain cliffs in an out-of-control slide at ungodly speeds, they are clearly looking to live a little, to indulge. Recognizing the needs of the people, Ross Edmund in all of his infinite wisdom, constructed not just one but five separate and unique structures centered around natural hot springs (Please don’t drink!) and possibly an active volcano (Geothermal power!). The most central of these and largest of these buildings is the Contrarier Ski Lodge, which is co-located with the second largest building, the Venin Tavern and Grill. At first glance the Contrarier appears rustic, but between every false wood panel, and two-way mirror, are numerous glyphs and runes which project holographic display across the floor and through the air. Weather updates, Daily Weekly Reports, as well as imported videos from other times and places dance across open spaces keeping visitors inundated with sights and sounds. There is a unique feel of past meets future which is only further reinforced by the numerous edgeless swimming pools that are fed directly by the hot springs and are inset into recesses and caves within the mountains side. And while the lodge has numerous estate rooms and suites, that none of you can afford, there is a huge common area for the commoners to gather for free and common-about. Firepits, heat lamps, fireplaces, plush couches, wooden chairs, and coffee tables, are scattered about, affording the tired and weary skier an opportunity to rest up, warm up, and drink up, mostly for free. As a compliment to the lodge, the Venin Tavern and Grill is both low tech and made from real wood! It features traditional wooden designs, such as picnic tables and benches. Although the Gargoyle Salad or Land Shark Pepper Steak are award winning dishes, most people come for the personal pizzas that you get with every purchase of a drink. Usually live music, (Lots of Tyler Slow cover bands) of the most trendy and popular variety is playing center stage, adding to the natural chaos of drunken revelry. Contrasting the simplicity of the tavern is Club Invidia. The club, which has a thumping bass from sunset to sunrise, is stylized as sleek and futuristic. The well-polished steel walls sharply contrast vantablack clad statues and pillars that decorate the dance floor. A constant fog rolls across the ground as lasers and strobes illuminate the dense cloud with a rainbow of colors. Cages rise and lower from the ceiling as stranger randomly climb into them to dance/dry hump together. And although it might be something of a hazard, hot tubs are inset into the floors along the edges of the walls, giving strung out dancers something to fall into. For those that need a break from the noise, Wonderland Resorts offers the Fastidio Water Park and the Supplice Spa. The Fastidio Water Park is a series wave pools, salt water tanks, mineral water hot tubs, and fresh water baths that are all connected by a series of lazy rivers and water elevators. Needless to say, as one drifts from one spot to the next, there is never a floating Tiki bar too far away. It’s often thought that the extreme and dynamic temperature changes between each larger body of water, as the water is all kept at different temperature, coupled with the fact that that hottest pools are kept outside in the frigid air, leads to a therapeutic type of thermodynamic shock that purifies the pores and rejuvenates the skin (Or gives you a heart attack, 50/50 really). And with all the fake palm trees around, you may even forget you’re on top of a mountain! (But probably not, it’s a little hard to breath up here.) For those with a little extra cash to blow, the Supplice Spa offers it all. Facials, mud baths, steam rooms, sensory deprivation tanks where you can have psychedelic trips as you get lost within your own mind, massages, electroshock therapy, and of course manicures and pedicures. Now for those of you that have come looking to feel alive, we’ve got two flavors for you. The first is Chapel Mensonge, which holds none denomination all faith worship services every Thursday evening, Saturday Morning, and Sunday Morning. Sometimes you just need your sins forgiven, sometimes you’ve found true love and just NEED to get married. Other times you are about to do something really stupid crazy dangerous and wouldn’t mind a combination blessing and baptism! Regardless of what your religious needs are, our Chapel can take care of them for you! (We also do Funerals every Tuesday!) But truth be told, no one goes to a ski resort and doesn’t ski. And so of course, you are always welcome to risk life and limb on our Verargern Slopes. These slopes twist and turn around rock outcroppings, shoot straight off of near vertical cliffs, and weave in and out of miles upon miles of trees. If you’re feeling a little more daring, our terrain park has jumps, bumps, rails, hoops, loops, flames, logs, enraged polar bears, monstrous hawks that will steal your small children, and enchanted snowmen that will pelt the ever loving crap out of you with snowballs. (We are not legally responsible and/or liable for you being eaten, getting lost, freezing to death, or acts of cannibalism. Your stupid ass not only signed a waiver but also paid us so that we’d let you ski off of our mountain.)
  17. Captured

    Azra felt the boat tip as it entered the unprotected waters of the open ocean, the floor of her cabin shifting beneath her feet and and bringing an urge for her to lunge for the nearby bed post. She caught it in time as her heeled boots slid along the wooden floorboards, the porthole window to her right blowing open and sending sea mist spraying into her face. "If I'm going to be held here against my will the least they could do is provide a window with a working latch!" She mumbled under her breath, needing to really stretch her arms in order to wipe her face since her bound hands made the task more trying than usual. They had left the the docks (located at the edge of the town of Casper) a few minutes earlier, the restraints still on her wrists making it difficult for her to adapt to the sudden shift from land to water...especially considering the stormy conditions she had seen as she was being forced onto the ship. Azra recalled the steel-grey skies and choppy waves that had rocked the boat even before they had left the confines of the harbors stone walls. She straightened once more, rattling the chain linking the iron cuffs circling her wrists. She had tested them out already to see how strong they were and was disappointed once again by the solidity of the metal. The female let out an irritated huff, "Stupid Allorian metal. Blocks off all my abilities....I could have been out of here already but it looks like they've dealt with other Elementals before." Azra walked over to the door, hearing the talking on the other side of the thick wooden door of the two brutish guards who had escorted her here. "Hey! I know you two idiots can hear me! I'm kinda hungry!" There was a sudden loud bang on the door as one of the guards threw his fist into it, a gruff voice shouting at her, "You'll wait like everyone else for some grub you witch! Ain't no special treatment here for you scum!" Azra grumbled irritably, walking back over to the bed and falling down onto the rock-hard mattress. "I knew I should have just let that guy go..." She crossed her legs, glad at least for the comfort of her leather pants and billowing, white cotton top with its loose sleeves she had decided to wear that day. Getting captured certainly would have been more troublesome in a dress. The woman thought back to earlier that morning when she had been visiting the more crusty downtown area of the city where she had been negotiating with a black-market swords dealer. She was so busy focusing on his wares that she had almost not noticed the pickpocket who snatched her satchel from her. After she had finally caught the pickpocket in a narrow alley, the female had threatened him using some of the blue flame she could summon to the palm of her hand to get her belongings back. The female had gotten back her satchel, but not without being noticed by a pair of town guards that had been patrolling the area. She was subdued eventually (after giving the one guard a black eye) and taken down to the nearest Lawkeeper where she was restrained with the infuriating enchanted cuffs. After searching through her satchels contents and finding the illegal wares she had splurged on in the black market, it had been beyond easy to convict her as a probable terrorist. The girl had quickly been booked on the next ship heading out of town so that she could serve some time working in the city's nearby mine and agricultural trading points a little further down the coast. The memories of the day's events had put her in a foul mood and the thought that she may die at sea made her even grumpier. Suddenly, she picked up on a different sound...the thudding of boots coming down the corridor she had been dragged through moments ago before being thrust into this room. The female sat up, fumbling off the bed as she made her way back to the door.
  18. The Night Was Calm

    The night was calm. A slight breeze rustled the boy’s hair, playing it across his pale forehead. He was tall for his age, and is hair was fair despite his dirtiness. His youthfulness contrasted sharply against the bleak and ruined buildings, which rose tall and dark into the night sky. An empty sack was in his hand, and he picked his way through the rubble towards a crumbling factory. The company sign had worn off long ago. He produced a small lamp from a satchel slung over his shoulder, and the pale light casted upon the dark interior. What was once a reception, some ruined chairs, a destroyed vending machine, all covered in a film of dust within the small lobby. The boy rubbed away the light brown dust on the drink machine, but saw it was empty. Moving on, he opened a heavy metal door, grunting with exertion. The hinges moaned and protested, but the door swung open into the large assembly chamber. Lifting the lamp and peering into the darkness, he could just make out the shape of a machine. Climbing down the metal catwalk, the stairs long rusted away, he approached the seemingly massive machine. He tried to imagine it functioning, the noise, the steam, the gleaming metal men marching out of it. The boy had only seen the rusted remnants of a shiny man, but had listened to his grandfather talk of them. He had called them ‘robots’, and spoke of their servitude to humans. He also spoke of the horrors they had committed, after the ‘Great Shift’. Thoughts aside, he set to work looking for the items his father needed: a few batteries, some Old World books, as much wire as he could carry. While prying a particularly bothersome clump of wires from the machine, he noticed a dull, amber light somewhere deeper in the factory. Frowning, he approached it warily, lifting the lamp higher and casting its light onto the source of the amber glow. It was robot lying against another machine, it’s body rusted and in pieces. Only it’s head was intact, and the glow was produced by its mechanical eyes. "System protocol: boot phase imminent: systems in critical condition: routi-” the robot’s metallic voice was cut off abruptly as the boy swung a piece of pipe with all his strength, crushing the head. The amber light faded away, and the factory fell silent once more. Shaking his head, the boy dropped the pipe and walked back to the machine. He turned back to the wire, and tugged it free with a metallic snap. ~Quick note: the setting is a bleakish sci-fi, similar to Isaac Asimov. The three laws of robotics mentioned in his books will be present, if you aren't familiar with them, then no problem. World is in no way fully fleshed out, so feel free to add your own lore.~
  19. Izabal's Waters

    The brisk waters of the sea misted against his face, freezing his long blonde eyelashes together. The stone ports of Izabal were always quiet during these times, when sailors had gone back aboard their ships, and weren't out singing drunken songs of women. It was always a peaceful climate to Kyrk Corinthins, and he liked it just so, but sadly it would come to an end. Two drunken sailors stumbled out of a ship, engaged in a small tussle, seemingly about some petty game. It soon evolved from petty hand gestures that missed one another, to a drunken stupor that caused them to fall over one another, like the blithering idiots they were. "And just when you think you have quiet," He muttered under his breath, seemingly catching a glance from a nearby port guard. But just as their tussle started, they fell flat upon one another, making a smacking sound as they hit the stone. Kryk rolled his eyes, walking away from the scene to not be made responsible. It was a calm sight as he walked along the disorganized rows of houses, cramped against one another, with tents and stalls with vacated produce. The streets were silent, except for the scraping of the guard's boots, just like any other evening in Izabal.
  20. Knight-General Jessa Chayanne the Fourth, Commander of the Grand Order of the Word, gazed down at the sprawling settlement on the plateau beneath her, from a rough-hewn balcony cut from the side of the sheer mountain slope. It didn't look like anything more than a chunk of rock right now, but in time she would be standing on the snout of a bear, looking out over the right shoulder of Gaia. The construction of The Temple of the Holy Word had started off swimmingly, with students of The Discipline blazing through the rough work while the masters lovingly carved the details. But the scale of the project was too large; probably all the Geomancers in the world would have been insufficient to complete it without casualty. Burnout ran rampant through The Order, and craftsmen of a more mundane sort were required to continue. And with craftsmen came the need for housing, and with housing came the need for provisions, and with all of that came the need for gold. And the promise of gold brought more people, who needed more housing, who needed more provisions. Suddenly they were managing a city, and a city needed walls, and walls needed gates to pass through them and guards to stand atop them, and helmets to sit atop the guards and and and and. Even now that the cranes were finally assembled and working, and the forges were firing through the day and night, progress on the Temple had slowed to a pace that might make a glacier feel quite good about itself. But someday, Jessa was sure, she'd be standing on a bear's snout, upon the highest of the council members' private balconies. That was a bit of a coup on her part; she had insisted on the highest suite for the strategic importance of the view, but she would be lying if it didn't give her a tiny sense of superiority over the other sects of The Order. Her long hair, a blonde so fair that it looked silver in the morning light, streamed out behind her in the crisp mountain wind, and she shrugged her thick fur cloak a little closer. The tall woman was used to the slightly warmer (and slightly easier to breathe in) climate of the lower valleys, where the wind was baffled by high slopes; up here, she imagined she could feel every minute of her forty-five years on this world as ice crystals in her bones. She cradled her cup of hot tea to her chest, warming her hands against the ceramic and inhaling the steam. Well into the distance, a black line crawled towards the incomplete city walls, winding down the switchback nicknamed "Cauda Draconis". The latest shipment of uncut rock and iron ore from the highland mines, and right on time, thank Gaia. One more delay and Jessa might have to add something a little stronger to her morning tea. A movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention. She shifted her gaze down and slightly to her right, to the balcony which opened into the suite of the Fraternal Order of the Word. That balcony was supposed to be atop the head of a markhor. Two obscene outgrowths of stone flanked platform, and Jessa could hardly wait for them to be transformed into a pair of spiraling horns, which would be at least marginally less phallic than their current state. Jessa's lip curled into a slight sneer of disdain as Hearthmother Iliza strolled across the lower balcony. Iliza was highland born and bred, and evidently considered the climate of this more middling elevation to be downright balmy; the dark-haired woman wore only a bulky fur coat which was open at the front, baring an indecent swath of pale skin to the dawn. The Knight-General wondered, not for the first time, if the Fraternal Order was hiding a fountain of youth somewhere up in those frozen mines; while the two women were the same age, Iliza could but for the years around her eyes pass as an untested maiden. Iliza took a sip from a wine glass and leaned on the half-wall at the edge of the balcony, exposing the curve of the side of her breast. Jessa's lip curled higher. The Hearthmother peered out at the same line of laden wagons that had first drawn Jessa's attention. She studied it for a moment before calling back over her shoulder to an unseen person as yet still in the bedroom. "Up and awake, my dear. The Hearthfather's caravan is approaching; you need get your cohort mounted and ride out to meet him. The Perfected scouts have reported rock trolls in the pass; they haven't come down this far yet but we can't take chances." Jessa was imagining some poor young man or woman, still groggy from a night of light blasphemy, struggling to find his or her riding boots. Her reverie was interrupted by the curt voice of her second-in-command behind her. "Madame General, permission to report!" Iliza looked up from her perch, spotting the Knight-General and favoring her with a crooked smile and a waggly-fingered wave. Jessa, her lips now a tight, thin line, returned the gesture with a terse nod before addressing her subordinate, a broad-shouldered and clean-shaven man in his late twenties. "Granted, Commander." "We've opened up another warren, Ma'am. This one's different. Deeper. The Benevolent on site says... um..." "Out with it, Commander." "He says, and I'm quoting, you understand, 'the mountain spirits are disturbed here'." Jessa sighed. This is what I have to work with. I'm rebuilding Terrenus with babbling lunatics and drunken perverts. Gaia preserve me. "Send a runner to inform the other Orders, and assemble a team. I'll be down myself shortly. Nobody so much as puts a toe over the threshold before I arrive, understood? Dismissed!" "Ma'am, yes Ma'am!" The young Commander snapped off a smart salute and headed off to his task. Jessa gulped down the last of her tea, wondering if maybe she shouldn't have spiked it after all.
  21. Tavern of Legend Season 3

    Read Before Posting Tavern of Legend OOC Thread When you're ready to leave the TOL and explore Valucre, check out these transition suggestions 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 those registered on the site for 90 days or less, or Mentors, can post in the ToL. This 90 day limit is designed to provide a time for new members to get acclimated while also giving them a gentle nudge towards role-playing in the rest of the forum. 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 getting started 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 that 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. At this time, the “staffing” has not been as hands on as it was previously (we got busy =/) but in time, we hope to make this a more regular part of the experience. While you are here, you can take on RP quests with less rigorous requirements than that typically found through the canon boards, get some help with learning T1, work on increasing the length of your posts (we have a 120 word minimum in canon boards) and get into the swing of how we do things on Valucre. This is also a place to meet up with other new people who might feel shy and want someone to make friends with early on. This board will be watched regularly, to ensure that people are in fact leaving posts that have content - we do not ask for much (just 20 words!), but we want worded posts (no emoticons) and no OOC stuff. That goes in the OOC section. Posts that fail to meet this requirement will be removed. Repeated infractions will lead to losing access to the thread itself. 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. But alas, the Tavern is all that is promised, 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. 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.
  22. word Saint Duke Evaristus Sicamedes had long since heard of the colossal ruin known as Lanternway from the archaic tomes of the primogenitors that documented the Whispernight's chronicles. Of the many authors and locales that interested him, there was one particular city that resonated with his bladed soul, and that was indeed Lanternway. For years he he anticipated the arrival of the forlorn world so that he may explore its secrets and uncover its truths with his own two hands even despite the fear of his other self becoming a distinct possibility. Some called it a rage that bore all of the disdain humanity had accrued for that which was inhumane, and others argued it was the amalgamation of his ancestors souls who reached into the world around Evaristus through the Sword Saint himself. The truth? As obscure as the man himself. Parchments of vellum had been placed throughout the Cold South, the airship that was Saint George, and Kadia itself. When it was all said and done there weren't many who were willing to embark on a journey that most would consider suicide, but of those who were, he was less shocked and more worried. For his own safety? Absolutely not! However, matters of the heart complicated and sometimes impossible to put into words, had become a stigma that haunted him every hour of the day. Her name was Remmington, she was an angel the likes of which the world could never replicate, a perfect beauty synonymous to the prophet of his dreams that allowed him to walk the dangerous, unprecedented path he had thus far. From the moment he had laid eyes on her he knew she was the one. No, more than that, he saw his very end in her eyes. The end of his passive suffering, the end of his journey beneath the blade, and the end of his very life. It sent a chill up the spine of the sunkissed duke to think about. Was this fear of love? Fear of change? Fear of the end? No, he was simply unworthy. Yet by the graces of Leoa Melinsede and her reallocation of resources throughout the Corvinite Imperium at behest of and likely the guidance of the very king himself, she was assigned to his personal core. Was this fate? Silence swallowed them whole for a time as they reached the gilded city below covered in moss, mana, and mystery. Standing at the southern bay of the Saint George the airship halted and Duke Evaristus turned with a brief glance to observe those who would join him. Remmington, the angel of his future death, and perhaps the scion of prophecy herself. Jackson, the young squire who sought power for vengeance, he who's eyes burned with hatred and despair of his lost familia. Dr. Marigold, a mysterious scientist of whom had a genius level intellect as vast as the enigma surrounding him, and one that he had no choice but to be weary of in lieu of their lackluster meeting. There hadn't been much time for formalities, as soon as Dr. Marigold was on-board they set off towards the land they sought to explore and Evaristus vanished into his chambers to prepare his armaments for their expedition. Silver ceramic plating were his pauldrons down to his greaves and with a quick nod to his fellow allies, his eyes stopped on Remmington for but a second before he disappeared from the open bay and down a few yards. A huge crash followed and the ancient dirt of the sweltering hot ruin kicked up in a hurry. Were the others to follow promptly, The Saint George would then take its leave, prompting to hang-off in the distance until they had returned to their designated starting point near the gate of the dilapidated sauna. "Remember we have one goal here..." he announced to them, treating them all as equals, the same as any true leader would...or tried to. "Investigate the ruin, retrieve any artifacts that we can and bring them back to the Emperor. Anything we see, dialects of language, prehistoric lore, needs to be documented. I assume that will be left to you Doctor. Any questions?" If they did he prayed they kept them short and sweet. He could feel the mysticism lingering in the air...at any moment they would find themselves entombed by this city of dangerous secrets. It was best that they tread carefully. @Aleksei@danzilla3@FirePenguinDiscoPanda
  23. Unbroken Seals

    It was no secret on the wind that the Carmine Empire wasn't inherently pleased with the way that Port Caelum had been born within Genesaris. The day that the once Baroness of Predators Keep was to be crowned Queen, and the Void Kitsune was to be crowned Regent had been a drastic disaster when the Regent Kitsune had disappeared in the middle of the Festival. The event had left the new Queen alone on the dais, worried and confused over her friend-and lover had gone too. Akako wasn't the type to flee from power nor fright, and the already frail minded psion had panicked rather than leapt into action as she should have. Constantly struck with loss and loneliness, her instincts had been misplaced in believing the other woman had simply ran from the world in order to be rid of the blonde haired psion. Not days after the Festival and her return to Terrenus, distraught and struck with such profound quiet the Queen had made another mistake; She'd tried to take her own life so she could finally be free of the terrible burdens of the life she had chosen. Fate had played a dirty hand that day, and a silver haired elf had saved her from the release she'd so yearned for since Akako's disappearance. Even after it had taken weeks, a month or so more before the Queen felt she had the strength to venture into a realm unknown to try to bring the kitsune back from the dead. The knowledge founded in the afterlife of Akako being murdered and her bound by blood ability to bring back to life the soul still stranded in the shadow realm had been the breath she had needed to break free of the bonds of sorrow and pity. Born again, so to speak, Red Yusuke tore open a veil to the shadow realm and would return with the newly revived Kitsune, at the cost of strength lost in the process. That was only the day prior, even with her best friend in the world of the living once more, Red was alone in the Port City. The investigation of Akako's death had pointed fingers in her direction, yelling falsities of her ability as a ruler in the new city on foreign land. Although enraged by the accusations, the psion knew there was some truth to them, but had been hard-pressed to claim the truths- yet. It had been a rocky start, but she had done some good in appointing the Viceroy, Xartia Pendragon to replace the once slain Regent. He was capable, and one of the last few souls she could truly trust to walk these streets beneath her banner. She knew this because he was not here, he was in Orisia where the Black Queen had reclaimed her throne and was hosting a coronation event so everyone could congratulate her return. Although odd to think of, his escorting Akako to the direct source of political intrigue in order to flaunt the fact that Akako was not indeed dead, but alive and well in an attempt to lift the fingers pointing at his Queen had been admirable. He was the loyalty she needed, and as it seemed he was the only one that could hold a steady ruling seat beneath her crown. Akako could not be faulted for what had happened to her, but there was no doubt a threat to her life by the ones responsible for her gruesome murder. It wasn't possible within her heart to appoint the kitsune to the throne, to put her as the face of Caelum where she could be a target by her daughter and daughters husband. Being at the coronation was fearsome enough to Red, but that was where Xartia came into play, to keep her safe with the likely threat of Koji or Kimi being present. The word would spread like a wildfire of Red being responsible for her revival, although it would take some time before such a time, which meant that the Queen was safe for now. Caelum might not be the most safe place to be seen, but fearing the Carmine Empire would only make her look pathetic and weak. If they had questions, it was likely her solitude would be interrupted, Red was even counting on it. Sitting on her thumbs while Xartia and Akako worked to clear her name wasn't how she wanted to be known, and hiding her face in the estate of the Viceroy while she awaited their return wasn't in her nature. Dark red fabric flowed out behind her while her boots carried her through the streets. The thick cape did little to hide the slender figure beneath, only so much as covering her bare shoulders from the winter chill and flurries of snow that tried to threaten the port with more snow. Red bravely dawned a gown of black with a slit up the front, simple yet elegantly clinging to her curves that she hadn't felt the need to hide beneath the cloak. She hadn't been an open face to the public of Caelum prior to the festival, and she'd been gone long enough and had put a face on the throne in her stead; Nobody recognized her as the Queen. Nobility was the most some people thought of as she walked along the streets, the way she held herself straight and tall with confidence radiating nearly from her pores. But their Queen? Not a person around would have thought that Red would be out in public without an escort, especially with rumors of threat from the Carmine Empire, which were laughable. Rumors among the middle and lower classes often ran rampant so there was no surprise her ears had picked up on the words of threat and disaster imminent. Inside one of the many pockets beneath the cloak was a small, rolled parchment with a red wax seal of a gryphon sitting proud in front of a shield and crossed swords rest unbroken. In her hand a letter had been written, one that was either going to travel to Umbra by way of carrier or end up in the hand of an official for the Empire, if there were any within the city limits. Xartia handled the official business, and nobody within his estate had any knowledge of any officials still here after he had assisted them with their investigation of Akako's disappearance. By chance any were around, Red would personally hand them her report and apology for the untimely events during the Festival, and thereafter. For now though, the Queen was simply on a stroll heading for the food district, curious over what local cuisine had set up shop in her city.
  24. K-Drama: Cyberpunk edition

    The day was cold. Flurries of snow filled the air and fell down on the electrical city below, trickling down into the neon lights that flooded everyone's vision. The town was crowded, despite the cold weather, with people bundled in their coats and scarves pulled up to their noses shuffling their way to their destinations. The bustle wasn't an extremely loud one, but it was what one would expect for a city this size. Though through the city's vast labyrinth, there sat a boy in a wheelchair. He was bundled up with his scarf pulled up to his ears and struggled to push himself along up a multi-leveled ramp. Puffs of smoke billowed from under his scarf as he finally reached the top, covered now in a coat of sweat. He took a moment to catch his breath before pushing himself to the door of the complex. He dug around inside his coat pocket before pulling out a card and touching it to the sensor, unlocking the set of doors. He sniffled from the cold and stuffed away the card before sluggishly heading in. The wheels slid inside of the room, the doors slowly creeping closed behind him automatically. He shivered from the cold, rubbing his arms in attempts to warm himself. Once sufficiently warmed, he pulled down his scarf to show his urban breathing mask. His appearance was much more clear under the white lights of the college dormitory. He had messy, black hair that was littered with a layer of white snow and blueish-green orbs. His ethnicity seemed Asian: more specifically, Korean. He brushed the snow from his hair and rubbed his hands together, warming his freezing fingers. He seemed young, in his 20's perhaps, but still had a youthful look about him with his somewhat large ears and smooth, pale skin. He should really be getting to his dorm... He would need to study for his exams and start dinner for his brother. With a deep breath, the male gathered his strength and headed down the corridor towards the moving walkways. The windows here extended high over his head. It reminded him of the hospitals...hanging high over the city in their tall white buildings. He studied the city with its hologram advertisements and neon lights. This was nothing but a typical day...but he enjoyed looking out on the city from the glass windows. There was something about it that made him think of jellyfish in a tank. The walkway ended and his chair rolled off the belt and into the main lobby where he found the elevators. He hated how far away his dorm was from his classes. He missed how his brother used to teach him at home. Though it wasn't as though he and his brother could complain; they were going to school for free after all. A little inconvenience was to be expected he supposed. He pushed the button for the upper level and waited for the room to come down the glass tube. He had to admit, these facilities were pretty advanced and nicely kept. Much better than the apartments his brother and he came from. The big city was a change too, but he was slowly getting used to it. The elevator made a soft ding, and the doors slowly opened. Wheeling inside, he pushed his desired floor and watched the doors slowly close. Turning towards the glass wall, he gazed out onto the city again. His brother was in that far building... He said he had to go in for a few more tests, something about scanning over his optic nerves worked...Or was it the nerves in his brain? He could never get it right...His brother was always the one who understood all the biology and medical terms they slung around. But said he would be home in time for dinner. He always made it home for dinner somehow. A smile softly crept to his lips as he remembered how his brother would come into the room, panting and out of breath from whatever silly errands he had to do that day. His blue eyes tired and blond hair all in a mess, but once he was home, that goofy smile spread on his lips. He would laugh, rubbing the back of his head with some excuse of how he ditched early to come home, or how he "got done testing early". No matter what had happened that day, he always felt better when his brother came home. The doors opened and he snapped back from his thoughts. He rolled himself inside of the halls and in front of his dorm room. His hand dug into his jacket for his key card...but his hand came back empty. Fear gripped his chest. Did he...? Did he drop it? He swore he just had it. It had his picture on it with a chip inside meant to open his door easier. His brother was the only other one who had a key. He couldn't bother him with anything more... He had dropped his whole life for him. Besides, he checked his phone. 16:07. His brother wouldn't be back for a few hours. The male ran his small, stubby fingers through his hair and groaned. Perhaps he had left it in the hallway...? Or it had fallen out on his way through the doors. @Skyscraper
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