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Found 729 results

  1. Arnau Dermont

    A truly Grim Theatre

    Blurry eyes slowly open to a horrendous scene, its stench almost unbearable. Breath becomes heavy as he feels the tip of his fingers turns numb. The victims looks up upon Arnau with a cold stare seemingly fixed at him even after moving. Watching them as he passes them by while being dragged he realize that whatever brought their death upon them, first devoured and hollowed their minds. He wants to try to get away, but his arms and legs are limb, paralyzed by some unknown power. Then he feels darkness begin to consume him and the blackness reclaims his vision. For what seems like centuries, silence brews in his mind. Ever so slowly the occasional gentle whisper reaches him, a desperate plea for his return to the world that had been taken from him. He can hear his own heartbeat slowly beginning to fate. Hope is lost... Death is imminent... Then in a sudden flash of light his ears starts to ring loudly. His senses peak and a hand reaches through the darkness and grabs him pulling him into the light. For a moment light blinds him, it burns his eyes until he is able to adjust his sensitive pupils. He finds himself on the ground outside, but where he does not know. He tried to think, but his mind remains a blank tome. An unknown face watches his curiously with a concerned expression. The young voice calls out to him. His mouth opens, he wants to speak but nothing but a desperate gasp comes out. He starts to panic for a moment, yet even so his body remains still. Breathe… Focus... You need to gather yourself… “Hey mister, are you alright?” The voice speaks. Slowly, he begins to regain control of his body and takes to his feet with the aid of the stranger. Passing bystanders look at him in pity in their eyes while passing before getting back to their errands. His hands feel numb, he tries to press them against each other but he can’t feel anything. There is a black mark on his right palm. A black circle with a cross through it. “Where am I?” He whispers, still confused about his whereabouts. Has he been abducted? What has happened to him? Why can’t he feel his hands. Why did it feel like he had been smacked over the head with a hammer, causing him a pounding headache? The questions quickly began to pile up in his mind. Turning around he sees an abandoned theater. The windows are barred but it seems like someone, or something have recently removed the planks to the main entrance. The old and worn doors stood ajar, almost as an invitation for them to enter. He didn’t want to but somehow he felt compelled to oblige. He needed to know what had happened to him and where this strange mark on his palm had come from. However he felt like he might regret the decision further on. Leaving the young that had helped him recover behind, he reached in for the door.
  2. Jade444

    Lost Mercenary

    Thrazes wandered a branching pathway on the outskirts of the inner city, looking around at the architecture with a hint of confusion on his face. He knew not how he came here, though his only thought was to find somewhere to rest at. He felt exhausted, magic levels drained. He'd have to find some food and drink if he were to survive any longer in this strange city, under the strange sky. Even on this road that seemed unpopular and dark, people bustled by on their way to... well, anywhere. The skeleton couldn't imagine how many people lived in this city, nor what direction he could go to escape the city. His footsteps made a thump-click sound on the ground because of his steel-toed boots, a sound he'd grown used to over time, especially in the cobblestone-paved pathways of his hometown. He brought aside one of the citizens, speaking in a low, quiet tone. "What is the name of this town?" The response he got was a scoff and the citizen pulling away, walking in the opposite direction. Grunting, he continued on his way. His gait was a little unsteady, caused by another reason he should find somewhere to rest... the chafing of his armor. Even as a skeleton, he did suffer from the rub of rough fabric on his bones. He usually only noticed it when he had worn his armor for an extended amount of time. After a few minutes he'd tried to speak to a few more citizens and got the same or similar reactions as before. He was starting to get irritated. Very irritated. He wondered what would happen if he decided to just punch something. Though, he didn't really feel like breaking his hand... yeah, bad idea.
  3. Arnau Dermont

    An evening to remember

    Upon the stage Arnau stood, about ready to give performance for the eager crowd. The tavern was packed and the patrons rowdy with drinks in their hands, singing and cheering. Some were dancing already, knocking over chairs and tables. It was an evening of celebration and he had been hired to provide these restless souls entertainment. He swept the reminder of his mug in one swoop and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve as he cleared his throat. The wine was cheap but it served as fuel for the artist. “This one is called; The age of the Tyrant. Enjoy.” Aranu presented as he took hold his instrument, looking back over his shoulder he threw a graceful nod to the band. In his hand a beautiful guitar rested while he gestured the crowd to be silent. --- Rejoice, the Tyrant-King is dead May the crows feast upon his corpse Rejoice, the Tyrant-King is dead The valiant knight cut off his head Our bodies and minds may be broken Our judgement shall not be left unheard Tattered, though we remain soft spoken Whispered in the night, was a single word Rejoice, the Tyrant-King is dead May the crows feast upon his corpse Rejoice, the Tyrant-King is dead The valiant knight cut off his head Let our voices echo through the darkness of the night This is our call to arms, for a better tomorrow Let us take a stand, united to bring an end to our blight Never again, shall we wallow in our sorrow Rejoice, the Tyrant-King is dead May the crows feast upon his corpse Rejoice, the Tyrant-King is dead The valiant knight cut off his head Beloved children of High Corinth Fear not, lay your heads down and rest For the night is always darkest just before the sunrise Prepare well, this shall be our final test Rejoice, the Tyrant-King is dead May the crows feast upon his corpse Rejoice, the Tyrant-King is dead The valiant knight cut off his head --- He finished his performance with a graceful bow and gestured towards the band behind him. He noticed that he had caught the fancy of a few of the younger maidens, to the obvious discontent of their aspiring suitors. He smiled playfully as he stepped down from the stage to mingle with the crowds until he would again be called upon the stage. Some of the women were quick to approach and almost surround him. “Ladies, ladies there is no need to fight over me. I’ll be here all week, there is plenty of time!” He commented with a passing laugh when he became confronted by furious individual, pushing his though the crowd that had formed around him. He assumed the man was one of the women's husbands trying to defend his honor, or perhaps father trying to ensure the honor of his daughter. The man was so old and ugly it was impossible for Aranu to tell. “I’m sorry but I don’t swing that way, old man.” He spoke with a sarcastic tone but quickly regretted his words. For you see, this establishment was one of the few remaining where he was still welcomed. As you can image this wasn’t the first time he found himself at odds with other men over his natural charms when it comes to women. The problem with old people was that they have had their whole lives to build their influence and all it took was a few complains to have him blacklisted from most of the popular taverns. Something that had caused problems for Arnau in the past. Long story short, it was incidents just like this one that had left him broke.
  4. 1678AY, 5 August Rain tumbled down upon the cursed island of Athentha as the cries rang out. The red blood moon held its sphere in the sky as it signaled in the Umbral Year. Time moved so slowly here, outside in the realm of Valucre, it was present time. Their current year. Inside Athentha it was still 1678AY. The sounds of blade and steel clashed against each other as the citizens fought to keep their island safe, uncorroded and uncorrupted. The armies of darkness fighting to swallow them whole, their eyes empty, fingers smeared in ore. Servants to a man named Yevan, elder of Allia. No, it was time for heroes to stand. The resistance peering out among the streets of people fighting back. Sayndar was not there to lead them. Cid knowing that he would have to release them to fight the cursed souls. Rain fell harder as lightning danced among the sky. Fire lighting up the burning houses as the citizens tried to save their land. Against a vampire and his army of captured knights and souls. How he was revived was a long a painful process. His knight commander, a young elf by the name of R, as the name had been forgotten with time. He had come back to Allia to assess the damage at the castle. However, it was here the whispers of old captivated and consumed. Placing down, a stone of old malachite and opal, he began the ritual to rebirth the vampric elder back into the realm. His nimble fingers rotting away the embers of his soul as hours rolled by. In the end, at the cost of his life, Yevan awoke. War spread around the islands as it erupted. Yevan was back coming to spread his disease amomg the islanders. Esben was enslaving people. The children however, stood there at the center. Their day of reckon was at hand. They came to reclaim their stake, lives to become enslaved to their cruelty. Will you prevail or become cursed? Will you help save the land or burn it to the ground?
  5. Ichi

    A glacier of Magic

    Vince ducked behind a alleyway, diving in between some trash cans to hide from guards who had been chasing him. The Elf was afraid, and definitely guilty. The time of day was late afternoon, and he was in a random town close to Blairville. He wore his usual getup, but was also carrying a bag filled with what appeared to be vials. Yes, you see, this story can only be made clear with context. Context that I shall begin to give you now: ***(2 days earlier)*** High above the world among the clouds, flying alongside the birds and wind; Vince flew his airship determinedly, having been searching for work and finding no such luck. This was Vincent Redhill, an elf engineer who was trying to score some cash to pay for ship repairs. His airship, the dusty ol bird, needed a new pair of wood board replacements, and he could only hold it together with nails and tape for so long. If all else failed, he always has his trusty parachute. But today he had an objective: he'd heard about a calamity that befell the lands of Terrenus. A calamity that caused the magic of the whole land to be sucked up into an ice desert and leave the population stunted and frustrated. This meant 2 things: People would be short on magic all over the lands, and that there would be a demand for it. But how would he make a profit out of this? Easy, Vince himself hated magic, but he was a being that produced it. And elf. So, long story short, he'd fill vials with his magic reserves, and sell them for a decent price. Decent being enough to fully repair his airship after all is sold and done. Maybe some food and drink too. Vince smiled, he knew this would be a simple mission. In and out, no problem. What's the worst that could go wrong? ***(Present)*** He'd sold some vials, was approached by the authorities aggressively for selling magic, and ran for it under the impression that counterfeit magic was apparently illegal. Now he hid, hoping nobody would find him in the back alley of a bar... (Feel free to join in if you want, Its all for fun, and maybe cannon post too if I passed the Supernal exam?)
  6. Locations: Chateau De Choisel - Quin’s Lab, the gardens and the labyrinth. “Das ist Ira.” Quin slurred “IRA. Wenn du ihn siehst, verletze ihn nicht.” This is Ira...I-R-A, if you see him, don’t hurt him! Quin was holding up the only picture of Ira she possessed, normally hidden away in the depths of one of her drawers where she was unable to look at it, her drunken and drugged out.state allowed her to carry it with her where ever she went. She waived it in front of Otto, who sat on the ground in the gardens. He was crushing a black rose bush under his bulk as he sat there cross legged listening too her intently. She’d taken to calling herself “mommy” when she was in this state, insisting she teach her ‘baby’ his duties. This just so happened to be the day that he was slated to go wander the labyrinth and keep intruders out - all except Ira of course - which in Quin’s current mind set - she was poisitive that he was going to magically appear at any moment. His picture told her so after all. Otto just continued to breath in that raspy watery rattle he had while she lectured him. ‘Wenn es Ira ist, bring ihn zu mir, direkt zu mir.” She continued, swaying a little, “Versuche nicht, ihn zu essen, nicht einmal einen kleinen Zeh! Verstehst du mich?” If you see Ira, bring him directly to me....Don’t try to eat him, not even a little toe, do you understand me? She waited until she saw him nod and nodded too, sitting down on the ground as well as she was quite dizzy and the dust was wearing off. She felt tired, exhausted, like she needed more. But no she must sleep, and she must eat. “Gut. Sie können alle anderen töten. Mama wird ein Nickerchen machen. Du übst ein wenig in den Gärten.” Good, you can kill everyone else. Now Mommy is going to have a nap, You can practice in the gardens while I’m gone. She swaggered to her feet and stumbled into the lab where she had a cot waiting for her to sleep it off. Her head already killing her from her latest drinking bender, she grumbled a little and closed the door behind her, hoping to get some undistrubed sleep. Otto watched her for a moment, then given full permission for destruction, which he so loved, leapt up and with a roar began to parade around the gardens, smashing plants, gazebo’s and terrorizing the servants that were wandering about instead of where they belonged. Quin rigged a few cadavers to hang from the hedges for him to find as an exercise. She made sure they were really secure so it would take him some time to get them before he could eat them. A busy - creature - was a happy one after all. Soon he would be ready to wander the Labryinth, terrorizing the occupants in it and destroying the tombstones and vaults. Happily busy with his job, until then, the gardens would take a beating, as would the rest of the outside areas to the Chateau that he happened to wander into, like the courtyard. @Greenmntman @Etched in Stone @Twitterpated @Eternity @HumanBean03
  7. Rin threw Sayndar to the ground as he came running at her. The rain drowning out his cries as it fell down heavily. Sayndar rolled against the ground, his sword falling to the side as the princess of Athentha made her way towards the hero of Lyonesse. That was his title, his proud achievement of defeating her those long years ago. That day he ripped her eye from her skull. Yet she didn't do the same to him. Picking him up from the back of his collar, she snarled. Nothing left in her eyes as she would make him suffer. Sayndar would have let her but he couldn't let the land fall to her hands. Her dark vision. His hands grasped her arms backwards to singe her skin. Rin hissed in pain as she released him. Sayndar with his last ounce of strength ran at the half breed and slammed her against the tree. He then collapsed into unconsciousness... --- Sayndar gasped as he awoke in a small enclosed camp. Those cold memories trying to suffocate him as the sweat fell down his face. Gripping the sheets as he sat in the bed, he had this dream for a week now. As if it was haunting him for a reason. And he didn't know why. Salsa leaned against the wall, her arms crossed against her chest. Her elf ears peeking out from black blue curls. Her yellow black eyes hauntingly staring at him. She was dressed in the usual resistance garb. About time ya awoke Capt'n. You've been asleep for days now after we found ya beat'n by the princess. She cut yer body up real good. Fin'lly had to shoo her off ya with that old magic tactic. "Salsa, it wasn't that easy. We were evenly matched. I thought I could redeem her this time. Show her the light. We've lost her to that villanous cur's magic. I--I--" Salsa put her hand up as she tried to ease the man's worries. Sayndar sighed as the resistance was growing in numbers yet at the same time couldn't fully go against the half breed and the man running the show. Capt'n, don't stress so much. We'll free yer princess. It will just take time. Plus we have to retrain a demon hunter again. Afraid he got eat'n by the demon raven. But the knights of Gemini Phoenix are here. Sayndar sighed shaking his head as he stood up. Yes, the knights were here to help build numbers in their ranks. Yet, he felt they weren't enough. He told Salsa he was off to see Cid. Waving her off as she stood there in silence.
  8. Mag

    accretion. (3/3)

    A car came to Yh’mi. As one might expect it came from the north on the good side of the wall, which was well — this meant that it carried no fell beasts, no wicked travelers, no disturbed voices that anchored themselves in the dark corners of the psyche where logic and sanity could not reach. At least it was not expected to carry such things, the reality of matters notwithstanding, though what sort of people were expected to be drawn to the rough-and-tumble hostile psychopath land here, one might have to wonder. Diplomats, hunters, prospectors, reckless suicides. But these were not enemies by default, and so the Paladins of Inns’th had no reservations in greeting it with, if not open arms, then inhostile ones. This would eventually be shown to be a mistake, but not then, and not for years to come. The problems arose when the Paladins inquired as to its destination, which happened to be toward the south, on the bad side of the wall. This was not so well, for all the exact same reasons in the inverse. Even considering there really was little other reason to come to Inns’th other than to leave it in the other direction; but it was the latter that was a madman’s undertaking. It was not happening — and if it were to happen, it had better be for reasons and ascendant ones at that. After a few minutes of arguing back and forth, papers were produced. Orders, signed by some foreign name, demanding access for reasons that may have been incomprehensible but were certainly not unholy. A tribe of gypsies had come to Yh’mi a while ago — this was true, if abrupt — and had disappeared into the wastes to eke a living out among the Cyclopes or die trying. What little thought accorded this tribe at that time in Inns’th upheld the truth of either; indeed the gypsies had not been seen for months, so yes, it must be true that they’d either found a meagre living off the cruel land, or died trying. But the papers carried by the newcomers indicated that a worried relative of one of the members of the tribe had expressed desire to send a message to his possibly-dead cousin, and had hired couriers — present company at your service — to deliver such a message. The Paladins deliberated for a few minutes as the car idled. It was a perfectly ordinary excursion made extraordinary by the wicked lands in which it proposed to take place. In the end, they decided to allow the car through. The couriers would deliver their message or die trying, they figured. Just the same as the gypsies so long ago. And while these Paladins concerned themselves with the lives of all living creatures, ones who sought early deaths were welcome to pursue their fates with glee. The gates swung open and the car roared into crippling waste without delay, not to be seen again.
  9. Miss Blonde

    We Can Do Both

    We Can Do Both Miss Blonde was a nobody in this world. Her past accolades and position of power didn’t matter, and part of her liked that. She was always feared and regarded as being pure evil. Half the time she was referred to as a terrorist, and the other half it was a ruthless crime lord. That was all people thought of her as, not a person or someone struggling to raise a family of four by herself, and certainly not a decent person. So she had become what everyone had made her out to be. The terrorist who bombed civilians when governments refused to give into her demands. The killer of all her own men in her close circle when even the slightest bit of info was leaked. But that wasn’t the type of person she wanted to be anymore. Of course she was no hero, those days were long gone. All she could do was try to be the best person she could be within the lens of her profession, and while good people normally died in this business. She was willing to risk it to an extent. Miss Blonde was always a cautious woman, someone who so far had not given out even her code name to these people. Her birth name mattered not as she wasn’t registered in any data base on this planet, so for all these people knew Miss Blonde might as well of been her real name. The contract that she had released into the mercenary world was vague at best. “Looking for experienced mercenaries and contractors of an evening of work. Danger level medium. Payment two hundred gold pieces and a custom minor magic item per person. Meet at X coordinates in the dead of night, your ride will be waiting for you there along with further instructions. Come wearing your faces concealed and with a code name.” Which was somewhere deep into La Ultima Opportunidad. Far from her bar, and far from the prying eyes where most law enforcement dare not go. The crew would assemble in a twin horse drawn wagon with a black tarp laid over it to conceal them. Sitting there in the back of the wagon was a small woman with short raven black hair, a tactical vest, fatigues, a black plate metal mask, and what looked to be a pistol strapped to her side. She had been the first one there, and was considered to be the liaison for the job. Once everyone had gathered, a strange device light up at the center of the wagon and filled the cabin with a soft blue light that emitted a three dimensional holographic image of a gas mask. ”Good evening everyone. Tonight we have a very special game to play. You’ll be knocking over a club for me. Though not just any club, one that is shall we say much more shady and illicit than most. Club Euphoria. As some of you may or may not know, it’s a rather heinous establishment. Run by killer enforcers, human traffickers, and genuinely unpleasant people. People who I want dead. So the job is quite simple. The primary objective is to clear and secure the club of all these scumbags. Secondary objective is to free the sex slaves being held there and give them the packs of gold pieces that have directions to the nearest shelter. You will find those under your seats. If you are caught stealing these packs, I’ll collect your fucking fingers. You are to infiltrate the club with stealth and eliminate the outside guards quietly. Once inside firearms are free to use. My lieutenant Miss Blink will be leading the operation, any order from her is to be considered an order from me. You’ve all been informed of the rules of engagement, so go get the job done.” The voice and image went black and it was time to begin. The wagon began to move and traveled for about a good ten minutes through the streets of Last Chance. It would be a few minutes before they arrived. If anyone needed to say anything or ask any questions to the still nameless boss’ liaison, then this was the moment to do so. OOC Please read before you join for rules.
  10. paradigm

    ...well, that happened.

    Word spread surprisingly fast in Izral, especially considering the disparity of power between the classes and a lack of any true governmental organization at play. That news could even traverse the expanse of the region was miraculous enough, never mind the veracity of the claims. They, being the talkers that ‘They’ were, claimed the slave market of Izral was in ruins. The life blood of several powerful merchant princes was being spilt and the grossly wealthy addressed the issue as only they could...by throwing money at it. With the slave trade on its last legs many merchant Princes were forced to protect their own interests: a mercenary’s wet dream. The call for bounty hunters had never been so loud as it was now. Velleh Ah’bjyd was far from the wealthiest merchant prince, but he was certainly the most vain. Unfortunately, for Ah’bjyd his obsessive need for the finer things in life left him practically destitute. Aside from his lavish estate, the Merchant Prince was virtually penniless and with the slave trade dwindling, necessity saw him parting with some of his more exotic artifacts just to maintain his luxurious lifestyle. Mercenaries and bounty hunters alike flocked to the various merchant princes to offer their services. Whether to fill the ranks of the Prince's personal guard, or to hunt down any fleeing servants who thought to make off with pricey trinkets amidst the turmoil. So it was that Garland found himself welcomed with open arms (so to speak) at the Ah’bjyd estate. In truth, his reasons for being there had little to do with the acquisition of coin and everything to do with sweet, sweet revenge. It took every ounce of Garland's self control to even look at the Ah'bjyd estate without vomiting. Every step he made felt weighed down by the shackles no longer fastened about his limbs. Peering down at scarred wrists, the youth ran an absent minded hand over the white patches of flesh that marred his otherwise tan complexion. It truly was a miraculous happenstance, this thorn in slavery’s side. No one thought the tall broad youth anything more than another sell sword. The heavyset man stationed at the guard house, waved Garland in and gestured for him to stand out of the doorway. "It's protocol..." the large man said, running thick fingers through his patchwork beard. "We get so many of you folks...er...I mean workers...not Izrali...I'm half-Izrali myself, on my mother's side...um...." Garland quirked a brow, uncertain exactly how one addressed a harmless faux pas. Truthfully, there were a great many social cues, the broad youth was rather clueless about. "Is Lord Ah'bjyd at the estate?" Garland asked, struggling to keep an even tone. The guard nodded. "Doesn't leave...um...er...Oh, I need your name...and uh...oh yeah, are you applying for a guard posting or were you um...here for something else." Garland pointed at the man, "The first one...the Guard posting. Yep. I'm a...expert at...keeping people alive," The heavyset man nodded his head and flipped through various forms on the table. "Great! Great! We...ah...we've been a little short staffed as of late...um...what with the um...difficulties with the unpaid laborers departing." Unpaid laborers? Garland had never heard slaves referred to as such, but he supposed it wasn't technically wrong. The heavyset guard rose from his chair and handed Garland a slip of parchment and a pen. "Fill this out and we'll contact you within 48 hours..." Garland did not take the pen. "I was hoping to start immediately." The guard paused and shook his head. "Captain Rothschild will want to do a small background check on you, it's not strenuous...just a cursory thing..." Garland peered down at the pen. It was going to be difficult to fill that form out when he couldn't even read. Already things seemed to be derailing in a monumental fashion. "Ah...I can't really read." Garland explained. "Just never really picked it up." It wasn't unheard of, some children from the Izrali slums never attended a day of school...so long as they assumed Garland to be an Izrali peasant and not an escaped slave... "Oh...um...what did you say your name was again?" The guard asked, turning back towards his desk, a large pudgy hand reaching for his radio." Garland moved without thinking and slammed his hand into the guard's back, using a rush of air to slam the large man against the desk with enough force to drive the wind out of him and send a stream of spittle against safety glass in front of him. "So much for that plan..." Garland muttered to himself, reaching down to snap the guard's neck with practiced ease. The sound and scent of loosening bowels filled the guardhouse, prompting Garland to sigh heavily. "Well...I don't think your pants would have fit me anyway..."
  11. Jai Nifarious

    You Had Friends Once...

    Jai "Kazehikari" Nifarious There's always a problem you can't fix. No matter if I have world breaking powers or if I am living amongst mortals; I am always the last one standing. I've been torn apart, reassembled, possessed, hated, exiled, punished, tortured, betrayed, and still I stand here thinking about what little time I've spent filling my sorrows with good memories from kind faces. Times have changed, the people are not my people, the land is not welcoming, and I feel....I feel so out of place. "Immortality...immortality..." He chants to himself, dissecting a hymn he'd once heard. Jai keeps himself at a distance from socializing with the "unblessed". There's an alienation between him and mortals now, a rift that he's formed after finding out the truth of their origins. The many secrets of violence and war ravaged his attitude towards them, it made him less human each interaction. The burden of knowledge has carved up what tiny hope he's had in humanity. The clothes he wears are actively a contradiction and yet a mocking of their fashion. It is not of this world, but it's what is considered "acceptable". His eyes are like solid white spheres, he's been passed off as blind to keep others from acting on their evil instincts and it's garnered the kindness of many. It's deceptive, but it's the only way he's gone on this far without losing it. "Excuse me, sir, you dropped this." One man says to him handing Jai an leather like wallet with several compartments. <-"Ngh"-> Jai thinks to himself. "Hey buddy, your shoe is untied." Another kind person says while placing a hand on Jai's chest to stop his stride. <-"Tch"-> "Mister you're really tall." a young girl says peeking up at him as he uses the collar of his jacket to hide his embarrassment behind. <-"Stop..."-> "Hey handsome." A slim woman runs a hand across his back. <-"She's got a reputation on her. She flaunts it ferociously. It's that of a succubus."-> "Well, you smell like everywhere....and yet nowhere. If you strike out on finding what you're looking for, ol' Morrigan will keep you company." She says blowing a kiss to his back, making sure he hears her moan. <-"Not a chance....not tonight."-> The moan sinks into his mind. The influence is too weak for his mettle. He proceeds strongly through the streets. Hours of wandering and thinking about as many people as he could remember. Jai pays respects to their memory, for he knew not where the graves lie. There is a swelling kindness that's becoming more dominant in his facial expression. Like he was trying to restore something lost. Something groundbreaking. <<-"mmmmwhaaa"->> Then it happens. <-"What? Green hair, small wings, soft fair skin, luxurious lips, plump frame..the succubus's curse...no...her invitation."-> <<-"Ol Morrigan..."->> <-"An accent...a place of pleasure...mmmm get out of my head!"-> Jai places both palms against the sides of his face, fighting the temptation. This pleasure he seeks is not of the flesh, yet this succubus has forced it's way through to redirect him. His hands fall from his face and he comes to a complete stop peering into the street ahead of him. <-"......Should I go?"-> l<-"As long as you bring me with you."->l <-"Deal."-> Jai's hands slip into his pockets and he spins around, heading back the way he'd came...a grin on his face.
  12. Dolor Aeternum

    [Event] Darkness and Havoc - Illyria Arrives

    Illyrian Scientific Division Event Objectives: 1. Evacuate the citizens of Antigua or save yourself. 2. Tend to the wounded, if so inclined. 3. Fight off the dark creatures that will emerge from the random pockets scattered around Ceyana. The tougher creatures may drop sweet sweet loot. (List of creatures to come) Bonus: Attempt to find and confront Havoc and Darkness to stop prevent further loss by engaging them. This will not stop the success of this catastrophic event but it could modify how or make things worse. They are hidden deep within the rainforest. Good luck! Name: Heron Leneri/ Luz Yllende Affiliation: Illyrian Scientists Location: Illyrian Scientific Division Objective: Discovering the beginning of the event Heron’s day had already gotten off to a rough start, with the Scientific Council sending one of their representatives to tell him to shut down his experiment and relinquish all of his findings to Luz the next morning. Years of trying to implement a faster way to exchange goods with other partners outside of the plane that Illyria existed in was now seen as a waste of time to lazy fools who were too comfortable in their self-made thrones to realize that his home could still be better than it was…still do so much more. They have been blessed for so long with an abundance of everything they needed to survive, but did they not remember the dark centuries that preceded this? Were they so present-minded that they could not see that troubles would still lie ahead? It wouldn’t do his feeble heart any good to dwell on it now so as he began to put away his items and have his assistants pack up all of his data, all he could do was let out a sigh before he heard a high pitched noise from across the lab. “Sir, we are picking up some odd readings outside of the spire. The readings fall in line with what we get when we activate several of our pathway coils together.” A younger assistant chimed in. “That set us back weeks on our research……Oh well doesn’t matter now. Let the scientific council worry about that mess. We need to start thinking about finding another scientist to work with.” The younger assistant realized that perhaps it was too soon to mention that but ambition was always key when trying to escalate up through the science divisions. “No offense sir” Heron shook his head while looking at the thin monitor hovering in front of them that was connected wirelessly to several others that hovered above them. Suddenly a flurry of sounds similar to the one that started this interaction were heard and Heron immediately jumped into action. “Start recording all of this data in real time. You, give me my tether so I can communicate with Luz.” Heron furrowed his brows and he could almost feel his synapses firing quickly as he wondered what could be causing all of these dimensional spurts. Had someone conducted some sketchy research and miscalculated? Those fledglings like the ones he hired sometimes loved to act brashly and without proper respect for the scientific methods. Shaking his head given that he figured no one was intelligent or foolish enough to even attempt to coordinate the quantity of anomalies that he was currently viewing, he looked around for the assistant he had sent to get his tether. “Where is my tether?!” An assistant returned empty-handed, stuttering for fear of negative reprisal. “U..uh…uh I can’t f-f-f-find it. I looked in all of your usual spots sir” Huffing and clearly disturbed by what he considered the inadequacy of one of his employees, he was about to begin a slew of lashing verbal assaults at everyone around him before he remembered his feeble heart again and calmed himself down. “Ok just run over and find a fellow and let them know I need you to use their tether to contact Luz. Let her know that what I believed would happen has finally happened and she needs to let the council…hell let the Light of Illyria know we need to get everyone to tackle this problem now!” The kingdom of Illyria was a compact area if you take into account the near million inhabitants that somehow managed to cram themselves into compartments lest they opt to cohabitate within a pocket zone. The area that surrounded Illyria was treacherous and unforgiving, however, housing all manner of creatures created by the enemies of the past and the hubris of those who were not respectful of their king. Heron’s only concern, however, was that he could continue his research and this odd event while obviously a portent of bad things to come could help his cause into ears that were much more powerful than the old fools within the council. The young assistant frantically searched for Luz, asking with short breath about her whereabouts for quite some time until someone finally managed to give her some decent intel. Luz had been rumored to be scolding someone regarding their recent miscalculations of the data from their agricultural experiments attempting to infuse them with enchantments for use in a pinch. The lasting effects were far too lopsided to be accurate and such a thing was a stain on this department’s name she needed to wash clean. The young assistant arrived in the vicinity and gained her bearings by listening to the yelling in the distance. “We do not do mediocre work here you simpleton. Were you using the right equipment? Did you employ the best enchanters or pick some off of some slum somewhere?! I should suspend you for your stupidity…you know what…..” “Ms. Luz…um…uh….” A pair of fierce grey eyes shot in the young assistant’s direction, silver tresses contrasting sunkissed flesh well. Luz was a tall imposing figure that clearly maintained herself well as rumor had it she had an intense workout regimen that rivalled their ranger division. Dressed with form fitting fabric that held some sort of ethereal sheen to it and several insignias that denoted her place within the scientific division, she was pleasing to the eye but her reputation for being unabashedly blunt and controlling did her no favors with the Illyrian men. “Out with it already!” “Heron sent me to tell you that there are some dimensional anomalies occurring outside the kingdom and that he believes it is serious enough to warrant everyone’s attention” “Of course he does. How convenient that it happens to be on the eve of the end of his pipedream” “But ma’am….he seems serious. He even mentioned that king Raylon should know about it. I don’t think he would do that just to save our project” Luz’s delicate hands stroked her own chin before she shot a glare at the scientist she was just speaking to suggesting she had yet to finish with him but the assault was delayed for now. “Fine, I will round up whoever I can. If it turns out he is wrong then I will make sure they laugh him out of the department one last time.” The young assistant just nodded and slinked away to rest somewhere from having run so much. Heron began analyzing the data from the initial dimensional anomalies and noticed a familiar signature within the waves that were being emitted. Years ago when he was just starting his research, he had picked up on these readings only to find out the portals that were created had been sanctioned by king Raylon himself as he had managed to broker a deal with some foreign queen for some much needed supplies when he had feverishly inquired about it. He’d learn much later about the scandal it had caused given that foreign queen was some sort of vampyre named Irene Gabriela DuGrace. He had believed that no further contact was going to be established after they became self-sustaining. That couldn’t have possibly changed. Whipping his head to the other side, he had almost forgotten that Luz and those she convinced to come were urging him to deliver some sort of explanation about why he had forced Luz to bring them here. So it began… “My fellow co-workers. I believe that something or someone is creating several compact tears into another realm. Most of my initial data seems to point to the realm of that vampyre queen….” Several people gasped in horror and others huffed in disgust while a select few just arched a brow before Heron continued. “I suggest we come together to figure out more about these tears and gain control over these areas before it is too late. We never knew much about what resided within that realm before and were never given the opportunity to see for ourselves but I fear Illyria is in danger once again.” Some shouted “What if your readings are wrong”. Others kept it short by just yelling “Lies” or “Fool” before storming off. The few that remained were far too few in number to have ever prevented what began to occur hours after. Flickers of Ceyana’s landscape would appear and disappear violently, giving way to humid air and vegetation. All manner of flora and fauna would also appear, with some unfortunate beasts getting quartered or imploding once they arrived. Glimpses of a populated market were reported on the outskirts of the Illyrian spire, with horrific screams contributing to a cacophony of pain and strife that pounded into the peace that had once been. Bodies of those who were out on data collection runs or hunting for specimens decorated the rough lands outside in a macabre but potent display that this event was on a scale that exceeded man alone. What was left of their bodies were seared along their extremities from being torn viciously by an unknown energy into what they would find was Orisia. The beginnings of the rapture of Illyria were some of the most chaotic times since the dark centuries preceding the Light’s arrival. The litany of portals that were created were slowly beginning to coalesce as both realms fought for dominance against the whims of two deities. It would seem inevitable change was coming and neither Illyria nor Orisia would ever be the same. Antigua Map and City Key: Bestiary Thread:
  13. The sensation of falling in one’s sleep. It’s always an interesting sensation. The darkness and comfort of rest suddenly cut short by the sharp skip of a heartbeat followed by that fleeting moment of free falling through the air. There’s always a hint of fear or shock that cuts through the dulled senses and pierces the brain’s amygdala. That all but brief moment that this was it and you had died. Death however would of been a mercy for Miss Blonde, because when that sensation was over she had to face her new reality. One where she wouldn’t awake to the familiar feeling of her bed and warm body lying next to her. There would only be the cold hard ground. Dark reflective lenses of a gas mask lay blank and expressionless, it’s hard metallic casing showing no signs of movement simply lay there resting atop a head of long blonde hair. A still silence that filled the air and soon was swiftly ended by a blur of movement and a mechanical cocking mechanism. Sitting up with speed and intensity, Miss Blonde’s gas mask came to life with red flashing LED lights that opened completely to almost express her shock. In her hand was the smooth and engraved .44 caliber pistol that began to scan the room. Something had knocked her out at the height of the party. Something that would have to be powerful to put her under the table. Yet all she could see were the black suit and tie adorned and unconscious bodies of her employees. Her closest lieutenants who she had gathered here for a reason should could not quite remember. Which was odd, because normally the woman had the mind of a steel box. In fact her mind was even protected by the enchantment placed on her mask. So with a few wobbly shakes, the small Crime Lord stood on her feet and kept her pistol firmly in her grasp. From the looks of things they were all still in the cabana club, the small and out of the way bar she owned on Relovian. Which was good, perhaps they all just had too much to drink. Taking her free hand she rubbed her sore and throbbing head and sighed. ”Haven’t has a headache like this since college.” Taking a few steps towards the center of the bar, she looked around for her personal assistant. Finding his slightly pale red hair, the man was doubled over a bench with his drink still held loosely in his hand. ”Orange, wake your ass up.” With a slight kick to his side the man sputtered and soon fell over onto his back and groaned. His face was also obscured by a mask similar to Blonde’s but even through the mask’s robotic vocalizes one could hear the misery of what might be identified as a hangover. ”Wake up the others then call me a speeder home. Looks like we went all night.” Blonde said with some kindness towards the man but still made sure to convey that this was an order. ”Sure thing, boss. Can we get some MandoBurger on the way back? Cause I could use it.” Orange asked as he began to pick himself up from the bench. ”Sure, just call the speeder.“ Placing her pistol back into its holster the woman would proceed to walk towards the front door. Daylight shined through the shutters and slightly illuminated the tropical and playful decor of the bar. About fifteen of her top men were here for what had seemed to be a party in her honor. Maybe they had just pulled off some kind of heist? No, she’d of remembered that. Did they make a big weapon or drugs sale? Maybe a successful auction? Again she’d of known about that. Pacing her way towards the door, Blonde needed some fresh air. ”Boss... there’s a problem. Comms are down. In fact I’m not seeing any signal, anywhere.” Orange said in a worried tone while hunched over a screen. ”Just run a diagnostics check on the system I’m sure it’s just the-“ Blonde paused in shock as she stepped out the door. It all hit her at once. The strange architecture, the smell of the air, and especially the completely alien species that could be seen walking around the streets. Species that her scanners couldn’t even identify, which was impossible. ”It’s probably the what, Boss?” Orange asked as he looked up from the screen towards Blonde. All of it was overwhelming. The information was flooding in faster than her brain could process it all. She took a few steps forward to turn around and look at her bar. It was all roughly the same but rather than being in its normal spot against the coast on the beach it was tucked away in the slums and back alleyways of some sort of sprawling alien metropolis. A few people on the street even approached her. Species that she had no idea what they were or what they wanted. Her hand reached into her jacket to grasp at her pistol while still concealed in her coat. ”You open? Me bredren and me just got off the night shift. Could use a drink.” What looked to be a troll with fiery red hair looked down at the girl and by his side he was flanked by a small gnome and a half orc. ”We’ve never seen your bar before. You guys just open up?” The half orc asked kindly. Blonde could understand them, which was odd. They spoke basic. So slowly releasing the pistol grip, she smiled beneath her mask and the lights on her masked turned to their standard yellow. ”By all means. Come inside, have a drink.” She said with some mild intent in her robotic laced voice. To the more magical adept of Last Chance a powerful and cosmic based magic would light up Blonde’s bar in the invisible residue of powerful magic that could be felt for miles. The city was still recovering from a large attack and there was sure to be people of note in the city. For now though, Blonde would just lead the three men inside.
  14. Venus Sprite

    A Fellowship in Frost

    “This party had better be worth it,” Torie huffed, a wry smile on her face as she leaned into her harness. “My feet are aching. My back is aching. I’m hungry.” Though she didn’t say it out loud, she really hoped Reitu could look at her feet and that Azul would find something delicious for dinner. But she didn’t want to put pressure on them. Chief Kasat was doing enough of that already. Eager to get to the wedding, he had pushed the herds and their keepers to a brisk pace the last couple of days, and Torie was having a hard time keeping up. “Come on, Torie,” called Simot, a Shinoki boy of nine, who overtook her with speed on a sled pulled by at least twenty Shinoyed dogs – large, fluffy and eager things with all-white fur and more guts than brains. Just looking at them made Torie’s mouth water. “You’re going to come last again!” “I am… pulling… the most,” she said, huffing but doing her best to pick up the pace. “And I’m pulling the most by myself!” Indeed, her sled was easily the largest in the tribe – that’s what you get for being a giant tiger among an army of minute tribespeople, dogs and reindeer. But she knew she shouldn’t complain. The exercise would do her well, and the company was excellent. She’d come to love this tribe almost as much as her own. “Come on, fatty!” Simot called. Almost as much. Torie’s tongue lolled out of her mouth and her breath huffed like a steam engine’s chute into the cold and frosty air. But Torie wasn’t cold. She could barely keep cool enough, even with the hard packed snow beneath her feet. She tried to get a rhythm going that didn’t impede too much on her expansive body, but one can only work with 1500 pounds in so many ways. She’d gotten far too fat, she knew it, and it made even simple things difficult. So it was with some relief that Chief Kasat raised his hand and called out “Set camp,” and all the other sleds gathered in around him. Torie pulled the sled in behind Simot’s before flopping onto her expansive belly, frosty clouds still erupting from her gaping mouth. “Can someone… please… unharness me from this ball and chain?” she panted, noting with a grimace the throbbing in her ankles. She closed her eyes. “It’s good for you, Torie. It won’t be long now and you can eat your weight in whale.” A toothy smile spread across her stripy feline face as she imagined the banquet that awaited them. Whale would be on the menu, sure. But also seal, salmon, walrus… maybe even some shark. If she was really lucky there might even be squid. She could never get enough squid. These days on the sled had hardened her muscles but had done nothing to reduce the layer of fat that covered her ribs and legs and neck and face and… well, everything. She realised what a sight she must look, a stripy blob sprawled on the snow. But right now she couldn’t bring herself to care. “Anyone…?”
  15. In a world filled with microorganisms of all types, there was always a struggle to become dominate. At first it was just regular microbs destroying microbs. However the presence and fleeing of an extraterrestrial microb known as Z-35 around 2000 years ago visited and used the world as its little 'experiment' granting them the level of sentience that it was gifted Decades went by after it fled as fights and battles grew in numbers throughtout the various microbs. Within 1657 years only 6 remained and by the year 1978 only three were left The Corilians being the most dominant as they have the most organized coral reef cities and had begun gaining atomic power The RexRexo red Algae was second being a raypunk society yet having spots in their territory where technology was less developed Then there were also the Manitrix who instead of technology uses magic to defend against the war. Alas it was pointless as in 1996 they were destroyed by a sudden barrage of atomic weapons Then there were two As the Rexrexo algae had begun their own atomic weapons, at this time some had begun building exo-skeletons out of steel and copper, often requesting that several algae bond together for it to operate. However our story starts in a less developed colony of algae, it didnt really have a name none but the capital has a name called Agirea yet the colony was sorly known as a lesser state and thus though it not be its name it was known as lesser state 5# one of the newer colonies, it was to be a buffer to pervent the coral hordes from invading the land by blocking one of several passage ways, if this plan worked then it'll give them time to build up an army sufficient enough to stop the hordes Thats when it happened, all that was heard was a terrifying screeching sound followed by the sound of rushing water, as if the water was flowing out to somewhere. The whole colony was ripped from its attachments and got sucked up by a disk shaped portal that proceeded to suck up all of the algae in the colony, closing suddenly seconds later leaving a gap where the colony used to be...... -[somewhere in Eastern Oo'xora near a stream]- The colony was dropped into the slow going stream where it eventually setteled on the ground, the shock of this would cause panic as they have been dropped in unknown and unreached territory....
  16. Fennis Ursai

    A Silver Ticket Gamble

    For a long while, it had seemed as thought Vashka would not see some field action for a good long while. Being called on for a job like this was troubling though, being as it was recruitment type work which was becoming more and more a staple of the company dealings of of late. Either way, he was happy to be on the job. The heavily armored goblin found a nice place amidst the 'Pavilion' area of town to watch the crowds of people come and go. His heavy plate armor was luckily cooled on the inside, if it wasn't for the inside lining, he would never wear this suit in weather that was as hot as it was. It seemed very strange for the set up of this job to involve a non-disclosed location, making the possible mercs have to seek him out, though The End Game was a bit of a secretive fellow on occasion. Either way, he chalked it up as commitment and dedication to the job ahead. From his seat at a local cafe, Vashka had tipped his helm back and was enjoying an early morning of spiked coffee, dark roast with a nice spike of some dark spiced rum. The day so far wasn't a bad day, it was his second day in blairville. Overall the city was nice but not his kind of town. A few sips from his coffee and it was becoming a good start of the day. While not drinking from his mug, Vashka would simply toss his helm back over his face and keep a place near the road so those looking for him could easily see him..though it wasn't that hard to notice him being his armor was bulky and a light tint of blue, almost bearing a knightly presence for such a short figure. Then there came the situation of having to use a false name..why? Why now of all times to use a false name, it wasn't like anyone was coming after them, at least best he knew anyways. Though this job held a few oddities to it, he wouldn't complain much seeing as how it wasn't really his place to question The End Game's methods. Instead he simply sat back, took a good view of the place, and let himself relax. Anything to keep him away from the tavern he called home right now, that place was a bit dangerous for the time being.
  17. The looming facility, with coiled spires like the pillars of a cathedral, with a steeple of offices and the shattered glass entryway into the building. Smoke still billowed from the entrance, like the baleful, waiting breath of a dragon looming within. What could possibly drive a man to enter this, where many have been crushed and driven out? A job was a job, perhaps. There was no visible evidence from this place, at the base of the great staircase leading up to this institute, of the assailant's movements. The night didn't make things any better, too. The lamplight, and the spotlights posited by the police force that formed the perimeter cast grand shadows over the building. The frightening visage of this palace of science didn't wane with inspection, as the knowledge of the warrior within marked each inch of its exterior with the interior damage leaking out. Approaching our hero is the police lieutenant, who supplies him with a map of the building, and info on the tactics Yago's employed so far against their forces. Remote control explosives, a battle rifle that uses conventional ammunition, and magic that asks a question that current protocol can't answer. "I'll level with you. Whatever goes on in there, we can't send anymore in, we can just keep him from coming out, got it? No shame in turning back if things get hairy, but don't expect us to be the ones to get you out. I dunno whatever reason's leading you through here, but..." He sighs, clapping them on the back. "...I'll just have faith that your reasons are good, and you're not going in here without a clue." @Aleksei
  18. Aleksei

    Here with Me

    Off in the distance, she heard the inkling of laughter; it made her smile, relieving the ache in her chest by a little. The bit of light to the darkness was reduced by the sounds of lapping waves delicately dancing along tarnished shores. Nighttime covered most of the aches and pains of the city, giving the eyes and hearts some reprieve that can't be found during the daylight. Right now the moon lazily hangs amongst bright stars; there isn't a single cloud to be seen, making the hour a refreshing one in comparison to the last few. Again, the laughter broke through the sounds of water. The struggle to sit down on her own left her a bit breathless, but the prize of serenity was worth the price of pain. Her body - much like Last Chance - was healing. Ribs were broken, her right arm was lost, a nasty bruise painted the entirety of her delicate throat - really, she looked a damned mess. Injuries and a myriad of cuts covered her small form in an abusive manner, showing a story of a battle that was won but not without sacrifices. Has it been a week? Less than so? Shanti wasn't precisely sure since a majority of that she had been battling against her body to heal faster. Between moments of consciousness, she had seen blurred faces with prominent voices, their words lost to her but their concern not. People entered and left the small room she had been kept in, some would say something to her, others would hold her only hand, the rest would be silent, but she could feel their presence. It was unfortunate that she had been so weak, for she would have liked to speak to these unfamiliar faces, thank them for their bravery. When she had finally woken up she was alone; that was two days ago. There was no more fighting, and without a clear purpose, she felt a bit lost. She wasn't trained to do much and being a foreigner she felt incredibly out of place - by no fault of anyone! When they weren't busy, many people took the time to speak with her, and half the time they'd give her something small to do. Being busy kept her mind off her losses, it made her feel more grounded, no longer lost out in this weird orbit. Such small pleasures she did not take for granted as she was just as surprised as everyone that she was still alive. Dredge had tried his hardest to kill her, but he was thwarted by grander forces he hadn't anticipated. He was so close, she thought to herself, flexing her bruised fingers in wonder. In a single moment, she had lost her arm and then almost her life, yet she hadn't been afraid when she and death shared a moment. Should one be frightened by that? It was a thought that worried her in moments of silence such as this. Was she indeed that ready to die for others, to set aside her life for something more significant? Was she allowed to be so .. so proud? A soft breeze sifted through the long strands of tousled hair; the silky strands tickled her cheeks; the sensation woke the elf out of her deep meditation. If given a chance, if she had to return to those moments of near death, she would do it over and over again. Absolutely. Pulling her legs to her chest, she wrapped her single arm around them and rested her cheek atop her knees. It was dark, life was still happening around her, and it was peaceful. Setting: Last Chance - 1 week after this event.
  19. Djinn&Juice

    The Hither And Yawn

    "Be you monster or man, beast or beauty, hero or villain; I am Lady Everest, and you are welcome to The Hither and Yawn. A place to soak in revitalizing hot springs, massages that nurture your very soul. We open our doors to you Weland, and even you beyond. The South District is where we have brought a much needed respit from war and exhaustion alike for nothing more than keeping all weapons and magic sheathed and contained. We are of parlay, and welcome all sides under the banner of Gaia. She who makes this possible. She tests you everyday, bestows upon you obstacles and dangers; equipping us with courage, she nurtures and trains us; Now its time for her to heal you, through us. you deserve it my children" This was the message that reached every soul it could. This message traveling through both trees and birds. The words not repeating after this strange phenomenon and letting The Hither and Yawn be known far and wide. It was at first glance a rather simple, and almost disappointing door in the dirt, but upon moving toward it's entrance; the vines ensnaring this hovel and spelling the name clear as day Within the walls, it immediately descended at a gentle decline. Stairs of woven tree bark aiding in their short trip down, music being heard in the distance...giggles? Chatting?...laughing. The stairs opening up into a large room that resembled the inside of a hollowed out redwood, and such comparison still did no justice to the size and height of this room. Canopies of nets and woven bridges overhead with waterfalla and spouts falling from around the bark walls of this bathhouse in a lazy upward spiral. Dryads seen serving customers with massages whilst suspended on a hammock, others soaking in smaller pools carved put into the walls themselves, and an atmosphere the likes of which were unheard of. Music flowed from this room, beautiful hang drums rhythmic and adding a sense of depth that only a place so pure could possess. Three dryads above The Blue Eye the source of this music. Their eyes blindfolded with woven vine, and seemed to project their music through their very forms. The dryad in the center of the trio a much larger dryad with a dress seemed to be from vibrant flowers that were still alive and thriving upon her form. Her hair possessing volume and braids amidst thick shoulder length mane. The floor ahead of them, being the center piece as dozens of dryads combing their hair, frolicking, and awaiting customers all surround the new customers and encouraging them into the largest hot spring in The Bathhouse The Blue Eye The dryads stunning, and possessing a natural beauty that sought to serve guests. Their lithe and supple hands pulling them into the hot spring and the effects were immediate. It was as though the water felt alive and it's connection drank in their stress and recriprocated nearly narcot relaxation. They all felt They were nothing but absolute. This blue eye perceives all things conjoined. The past, the future, and the present. Everything flows, and all is connected. This eye is not merely seeing reality...it is touching the truth. There is nothing to fear. Not here Never here @Zashiii @Aleksei @Grubbistch @PurplePanda
  20. There was an unrivaled stillness in the air. The city seemed to hold its breath as the morning mist veiled the mountain. The wind billowed and swirled gently, quietly—as if in reverence for the dead. Twenty-two individuals were garbed in white silk. They stood outside the Great Hall at the Pavilion of Prayers in somber silence. Every move, every act was well practiced. They stood equidistant in pairs of two, primly holding the long piece of paper that bore the name of their loved one. There was no crying. There were no tears to be shed. Mourning had passed—now it was on towards duty. Duty to lay the dead to rest. They were organized by their rank. Nobles and Knights at the head. Merchants and Scholars. The civilians were last. It felt wrong for Sabine to grip the delicate piece of paper that she did. In Vaadenian her lover’s name was scrawled with a practiced hand in beautiful black ink. It felt wrong because Sabine knew what she had seen. Though her lover was but ash, she knew that somewhere, somehow Efrideet was alive and enslaved. The skies were grey as clouds lazily stretched across them, though the sun tried to peek out from time to time. They waited in patient silence for the rest of the ceremony to finish its completion. Somehow this day could not end soon enough. The Great Hall had already filled with those who had come, but ample space had been made for the ceremony and funerals. “Ja’kaarn se Laa’zera!” Enter for the Queen! A herald called for them. Loud, precise and commanding—and so they would proceed with their practiced gait.
  21. Yulhalla Serphus was a city that sat outside the bigger city of Val Roux. However, after the battle of the citizens of Roux and Yuhalla was over, many treasures remained. Serah, a young elf with long braided black teal hair and yellow orange heterchroma eyes wanted to get. She was dressed in a long sleeved button up and slacks that showed off her very curvy body. But she was an explorer first, as she was the apprentice of H.H Dylan himself. Serah had taken three airships to get to the abandoned city. It was a long flight of frustration and grief. As she almost missed her third flight here, she lost her luggage and had to file papers to recover it. But she was here, in Yuhalla Serphus and she wasn't going to just leave. She would document and find was abandoned and left behind. Walking down the old and faded cobblestone streets, Serah noticed the rotting and faded buildings. Left to decay and withered because no one wanted to rebuild time and funds to a city no one wantrd to live in. Serah was here to show people, it would be nice to rebuild and live here again. That was her goal. And Serah almost always obtained her goals unless it was impossible by every mean possible. She stood there a moment as she looked around the empty city. If a few building onstructors came in and rebuilt some of the dilapated buildings there could be housing. But Athentha didn't have many construction crews, they were either in Lyonesse or the human world. Serah tilted her head as she rubbed her temples. It seemed the rebuilding would need a lot of steel and wood the land didn't possess. Only because it was a floating island in the sky. The elf jotted down this on her notepad making her way down the road. She was excited to find the abandoned treasures that the citizens disguarded and threw away as they left the city. Serah wrote down more things that needed inprovement like power lines, water and food increases. This wasn't going to be an easy thing. But right now the elf focused on the ites left behind, items made by the Gods themselves. Swords, shields, rings you name it, were abanadoned here.
  22. Aleksei

    Fire and the Flood

    House Mythal " You think you will have any of your own?" "What, wine? You know I don't have the stomach for it." Austere looked at his brother unamused. You never felt in one place with Milorian, as if he was the sole individual making the world revolve and if he stopped, so would it. A strange round-aboutness, it could drive a man crazy just to get a straight answer out of the elf. "Milo ..." "Don't look so sour, Austere. I was only joking." Milo looked down at the small body resting peacefully in his lap. He would have forgotten about the child, so light he felt and so quiet he has been the last few hours. Easton was by far the most well-behaved child out of the rest, and often enough Milorian has admitted (to himself only) to spoiling the boy with the attention he does not need. It wasn't out of pity, the elf told himself for the thousandth time, it was out of love and pride and joy - especially joy. The child was a weakness of his, though if asked he would push the subject aside and pursue another route of thinking. He hated being put on the spot about emotional attachments. Idly, he sifted his fingers through the child's white hair (a homage to his Mythal name) and allowed himself a brief smile. Children would be a wish come true, yes. Brooding eyes looked out the window of his humble quarters; there was so much to do that wishes and dreams have to be set aside. "Maybe someday, though Ronan and Terra will have already populated our ranks enough by then I won't have to worry about trying." "So I've heard! At this point, it's unnatural to see Terra not heavy with child!" Austere's laugh made his brother chuckle in reply, the action and sound oddities to the both of them. It felt wonderful just to speak, to laugh and think about the future. Milo lost himself in thought, still stroking Easton's hair, occasionally fiddling with the pointedness of the child's ear. Austere watched his brother, admiring the man that fit perfectly in their father's chair while he entertained himself with the sleeping child. The Dred Wolves have fought through the lines of partition, spilled their blood for the people of their home, died in the name of deserved justice. They all did their part of maintaining their house and name, most of the work done by Milorian. Looking upon his brother, he did not envy his position as head of the house. "Are you prepared for tonight?" If at all possible, Milo's frown deepened as he sighed, apparently forgetting that tonight was rife with celebration. Head of the house, sure, but he had no power over his mother and sisters; they had him wrapped around their finger, and he didn't have the strength to fight them. He was gotten. "No," he cradled Easton in his arms, needing something to keep him anchored. People will be filling their home this evening, and he wasn't prepared to face any of them just yet. "You could have - no, no you couldn't have." Austere was older than Milo. Thus he's had years of practice to stay stalwart against their mother's insistence. The memory of his brother folding under their mother's suggestions, her backing being the wives of the family, all the while their father stood back in false ignorance, made him smirk. There was entirely no surviving the attack; they laid siege to Milo's defenses, already weak and poor. "Tonight then?" "Do you have to ask?" Easton briefly woke up as he was exchanged between hands. Austere was a gentle man whose attachment to his only child is needy and often overbearing. Though such actions could be considered the norm, for the Mythal's are known for their selfishness towards their family and its growth. Their wounds were also still very fresh, the terrible loss of their brother and Austere’s wife and child still hung on the Mythal’s sharp shoulders; Austere was allowed his possessiveness. Some hours later he was trying to find his footing, thwarted continuously by grabbing hands that spin him in a reel he’s relatively unfamiliar with. His mother had unceremoniously pushed him into the dancing circle, and he was immediately assaulted by a young woman with vibrant flowers woven into her hair and a smile that sparkled. He did not return her smile, quickly he spun out, but he was fresh pray to the eager and was once again victim to the celebratory dance. Somewhere on the edges of his hazy mind, he heard his siblings snickering, his mother joyfully clapping her hands to the tune, and his sisters-in-law cackling at the scene of poor Milo dancing awkwardly. “All of you are banished!” Milorian yelled once he escaped; long fingers worked to adjust the elaborate robes he wore. His hair had been braided, a red ribbon threaded through it, but now all that hard work demolished. “That didn’t work the first time, what makes you think it will now?” Ronan yelled over the music, his right hand resting comfortably on the lower back of his pregnant wife. His blue eyes were dancing, and his stupid smile was shaking from how extensive it was spread against his equally foolish face. Milo glared at the laughing group, his blue hues turning into daggers aimed directly at all their heads. As the youngest he was the most natural target; for years he has been taken blows from his brothers without delivering any of his own. While the Mythal’s are known for their prowess of speech, he lacks the art of insult, especially against these monsters. “Behave,” Terra playfully slapped her husband’s shoulder. Ever the opportunist, Ronan grabbed the hateful hand and began to slather kisses along each digit. This poor display made their audience groan. Crossroads was alive. The bridge had been decorated by the people of the Free Marches; garlands of flowers thrown everywhere, banners of the Dred Wolf hung at every entrance, the wine was flowing from every corner, food nearly bowed the trestle tables, and the people … the people were okay. Tomorrow they may remember the aches and pains, but for a moment in time, they are given the freedom to mingle and speak of the weather, their families, the game of chess they’ve lost to their child - anything. Tonight is meant for celebration and gods willing they will celebrate.
  23. Aleksei

    Wandering Roads

    “Listen, I just wanted to know the price on this scarf and nothing else!” Like talking over a storm, he thought while wearing an exasperated lopsided smirk. The woman didn't like him, and that's perfectly okay in his book, he didn't harbor any love for her either, but damn it! All he wanted to know was the price; it's not like he insulted her ancestors or anything. The likelihood of him buying it was extremely high; was the right color of red, fit just like a glove, and he could justify the purchase. Her ranting and raving at him were only knocking the item down in price, and he was becoming extremely irritated by her attitude. She said something that made him look down at his appearance - come again? He'll have her know that his armor was the best and just because he chose to wear it fashionably doesn't make him some haphazard knight. There are generations and generations built into the black armor, he’s not going to let some wrinkled old hag insult him because he may not fit in with the rest of the crowd. What gave her the gal? The man stood six-feet and at least - at least! - five inches and she was standing up against him like he was just a breeze to her mountainous impersonation. “Listen! I will give you what you want for it, just stop yelling at me!” Harshal said a prayer for the old woman’s family, because if she was his granny … “Wait, what?!” Just as he fished the coin out of its pouch, she slapped him with a preposterous number. He looked at her like she had three heads (matching the current two already protruding from her short frame). “Who has that kind of money?! It's a scarf, a scarf! Did the All-Creator wipe her ass with it?!” By this point, a small crowd of onlookers gathered around the stall to put their noses in not their business. Entertained by the sight of this giant man arguing with an old woman, some felt the need to stick around and see who was going to win this tug-o-war. Harshal is not going to bend knee for this hustler in wrinkles; he is also not leaving without the scarf. Now just a matter of principle, she was wasting his time throwing numbers she’s probably pulled out of her ear, but he’s no fool. He could care less if she’s a lady probably older than dirt itself, she started this whole thing by being snooty with him, and he’s not going to back down. @ourlachesism
  24. HumanBean03

    The Blasted Badlands

    “Ah, you can’t find freedom like this anywhere,” Fawkes thought to herself. She was soaring over the windswept sands of the Badlands and the thermal updrafts were perfect this time of day. The wind rustled in the brown, black and white feathers of her 6-foot wingspan. Though the Badlands were extremely inhospitable to outsiders, it was home to Fawkes. She was one of the few Avians left in Valucre, as most of them thought that the world had become too populated with cities and settlements for them to be able to fly free. Her small tribe, consisting now of her brother and his family and a few of the other young Avians, moved to the Badlands after Odin Haze’s attack on Blaurg Mountain where they had been living for nearly four generations. But the move was not easy, they left Blaurg Mountain with 15 and now there were only 10. Some abandoned the group and flew back to the mountains and the flight out of Valucre and some were lost to the harshness of the Badlands. They created their own sort of nomadic tribe and even managed to befriend the Mahrjan tribe and setup a loose trade network with them. The Shai-leuth elders believed that the Avians were warriors of Gaia because their wings allowed them to be closer to the light of her glory. But today she was out enjoying one of the cooler parts of the day and seeing if she could spot anything worth trying to hunt. Fawkes was the best hunter in the flock, her keen Avian eyes were like those of a hawk and could pick out even the smallest prey, she almost always managed to bring something back for the flock even during the most extreme parts of the year. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something glint from the sand, she banked her wings and wiped the dust from her goggles. Beneath her she saw a sand-rat foraging through the sunbaked earth. Unlike normal rats, sand-rats were as big as wolves and had even worse tempers. Fawkes grabbed the Vakar spear from her back, flew up higher and then dove. She tucked her wings close to her back and felt the wind blow through her hair and sand sting her face. As she neared the ground, she snapped open her wings and threw her spear. The rat let out a long shriek and bared its teeth as the long double-sided blade buried itself in its side. She flew toward the sand-rat and pulled her spear from its side. In one swift motion she pirouetted in the air and slashed upward with her spear. The sand-rat let out a gargled scream and toppled over. “Not a bad catch. This will be great for tonight,” Fawkes said as she began cutting up her prize. The sun was beginning to set, and Fawkes knew that she would need to get back to the camp before even more rats came above ground. Stuffing the last of the meat and useful parts into her bag Fawkes took off and flew back to camp.
  25. Miss Blonde

    The Red Festival (Open)

    The Red Festival Within the deepest and darkest parts of the Dark Forest, dim and low burning lanterns could be seen leading through a man made path towards what could only be described from afar as a dull source of red light with the deep thrumming of a foreboding bass like sound that nipped at the frontal lobe of the mind. On the path towards the light there walked hundreds and hundreds of beasts and monsters that had infested the nightmares of good men and women. Creatures that were of a lesser breed by their standards. Old Guard Orc clans known for warring and killing one another in an endless struggle to prove dominance and strength. Trolls of the darkened swamps where witchcraft and hoodoo thrived in a society based around sacrifice and ancestral spirits. Kobolds that crafted and mined the deep and rugged mountains. Lizard folk, Rat folk, Gnolls, Kenku, Drider, Yuan-Ti, ascended undead, and even the occasional Lich. All of them traversed the path leading to the faint source of light in the surrounding ethereal darkness. All of which would arrive at one defining location. Red. Crimson. Scarlett. All the various shades of red could not prepare one for the sheer volume of blood that was the final destination. It was as if one massive cadaver has painted the forest red. Banners soaked in the blood of the innocent were strewn across a massive clearing within the Dark Forest. Crude and almost childlike paintings of roses and other flowers were hung from trees next to the corpses of innocent human civilians that had been nailed to them to help stimulate the decor of the festival. Hundreds of booths, tents, and other temporary structures were erected and lined the massive clearing to serve food, drink, and sell various goods. A massive center stage had been built at the center of it all and sitting beneath it was a literal pool of blood. A large pond filled with the life force of what could of been hundreds of souls. All of it was like a punch to every sense the body could muster. The sights, the smells, the taste in the air itself. Grilling flesh and meats being cooked over flames. Music singing through the air only to accented by the screams of the men, women, and children of Tormo that had been tied to posts throughout the festival and were being stoned, tortured, or even eaten by the ravenous guests of the festival. Perhaps thousands were in attendance and the party had yet to officially begin. The energy in the air began to shift as more and more people drew into the party, and with the beginning round of drinks being served to their guests. Someone stepped onto the center stage. The black armored villain himself. Dredge was here to start the celebration right. He would not make many demands of his new people. He only wished to give a brief statement. So with a spell that amplified his voice his presence boomed across the clearing. ”Greetings, my children. All of you have been gathered here to be merry. To have a place where you can drink and be what you were born to be. To be what these humans would call you. Monsters.” His voice was steady as it leaned into the crowd. Showing them their insecurities. But no, when I look out at all these faces. I don’t see monsters. I see my people. You are all my brethren. I don’t see The unincluded, the vilified, the dregs and mobs to hunt down and kill to make the world a safer place for them!” Slowly his voice picked up to become louder and louder to tap into their anger over where they stood. ”Not here! not now! Tonight! You are all equal! Tonight! You are all family!” As heads all turned to Dredge in sudden awe smiles of both hope and evil light up their faces. ”I AM DREDGE!! SLAYER OF MAN AND DESTROYER OF WORLDS AND I ORDER YOU TO FEAST!! DRINK!! AND FORNICATE THE NIGHT AWAY!!! WELCOME MY FAMILY TO THE RED FESTIVAL!!!” If Dredge knew anything, it was how to work a crowd, and with his Wolf of Wall Street moment over it was time to bask in the reaction. Roses of delight and excitement ripped through the night air like a bat out of hell. The Red Festival had begun and it had started in a frenzy. Every where one looked bars, games, food stands, and posts where prisoners were kept were positively packed and alive with the manic energy that Dredge had inspired. Let the party begin.
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