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Found 72 results

  1. NOTICE Music Image The Man in the Black Mantle Last Chance. A riot for the fans. In the darkness of the night, hands wear the black gloves of madness. Laughter in the slaughter after injuring the daughter. Blade to the tits, spade into bits. Kill the bitch. Scratch an itch and tickle the twitch. Stop squirming like a fish! Soak your nose in coke from my coat. So stoned, you come to know my joke. I am one sick bloke. Squeezing a throat, a pleasing choke. Cough!-Cough!-Cough! goes the ho. Hahahahahahaaa! Close your eyes and try and picture a modern day Jack the Ripper. Scouring the streets with an undone zipper. A half moon is tonight’s yin-yang in the sky, one bright side that illuminates an alley of escape for Blueberry as she runs, one dark side scoffing at the noise of her heels as they invite fun. Fun. Blueberry is running from fun. “Waaaahhhh!!!” Wah!-Wah!-Wah! This is a loud one. Why does she run from fun? Fun? Fun. One. One being. One entity. Me. I am Fun. Click-clack goes the composed footsteps of polished boots, black like the paws of a hellhound as it paces toward its prey. Arms are concealed within the dark depths of a mantle, though with limbs that just might shoot out to snatch a handful. As the figure walks and stalks, the flaps of its coat slightly spread to reveal red on the inside of the cloak. Top hat sits atop a head, the figure’s eyes like a ghoul’s gaze of dead butterflies; irises black, the night’s darkness swimming in them for a heart attack. Facial expression as pallid as the moon’s pale complexion. The woman calls out with a shout, limbs dangling in her girly jog through the fog, hopping like a frog to escape the hunt. Stupid cunt! “Waaaahhhh!!! No, sir! Don’t come any closer!” “Can you cry any slower?” I smile with glee. Yes, I admit it. My grin is pretty fucking twisted. Like my mind in this fine moment as I own it. Right hand is withdrawn from black cloth, brandishing the hilt of a gleaming khanjar beneath a twinkling red star. The Blueberry bitch with an itch turns her head of oceanic blue hair and snaps her head back for a frightened stare. She gasps at the sight of the blade that bears her name, and he licks the tip with a too-long tongue of be-tasting-you begging her for just a drip. The woman’s stalker need only walk to her, knowing she was heading nowhere besides a dead end with an absent prayer. The alley moaned and groaned with graveyard doom as it offered a shovel to this woman with her gloom, laughing like an old man in a rocking chair with a beer can. Here, so you can dig your own grave and twitch, you blue-eyed bitch! Doom. Now she was doomed. Tripping over one of her blue shoes, the woman tumbles forward, falling on her belly, nose busting on the concrete and turning into jelly. She screams. Against her tears, a cackle clasps the atmosphere; the musings of a malevolent mind with no time for mercy in this game of cutthroat controversy. Black boots walk the red rug of blood, knife held out, fingers coiled around hilt with no doubt. The creeper creeps closer, as graceful as a symphony's composer. Blueberry begins to crawl away, sobbing uncontrollably, hoping to live to the next day. Pleas of rescue going unheard in this dark and dank alleyway. Go on and squeak, little bird. Cry for your dad. There in the hell fair of La Ultima Opportunidad. In an instant, a hand seizes a fistful of blue hair, producing a shrill cry of pain in vain like a beaten mare. Soft, feminine hands clutch the man’s black hand. But he didn't want to dance. He straddlers her like a lover, knees dig into her ribs. She kicks and flails wildly, head craned up stylishly, hair pulled toward the sky that night. “Now, go ahead and scream, lovely. Scream like the whore you are. Scream for me.” The command was deific as the woman's tears stained her youthful visage. Kneeling just above this harlot’s swaying body, the man in the top hat just wasn't feeling that kind of naughty. He wasn't here to play cupid. He had no drive for white fluid. What he wanted was a little more red. He just wanted this squirming bitch dead. “P-Please, mister! D-Don’t kill me! Don’t…DON’T DO—“ Skluch. Razor sharp blade slit the bitch’s throat, blood spewing out like she were just some stuck pig or goat. Smiling, the Man in the Mantle keeps his victim’s head held up against her upchuck of blood. The knife falls to the ground with a clinging sound. His fingers grasp his top hat and remove it. There in the moonlit air there is no hair at all. This man was bald. A black cat creeps forward, green eyes like emeralds as they serve as haunting heralds. As a feline tongue laps at the puddle of blood, the Man in the Mantle accepts this cat’s invitation like he was on vacation. In a flash of thirst, he jerks his opened mouth to the dying woman’s neck, his former friend. The cat watches, it blinks, and the man drinks. The end.
  2. In the town of Spalding, not far from Tia... The wind was blowing. Swishing and whooshing like a wolf trying to blow down a brick house built by pigs, swooshing and swirling like a merry-go-round spinning underwater (okay a merry-go-around probably wouldn't work properly while submerged but this is a simile so screw the rules), blowing and blowing and blowing like a particularly enthusiastic gay man going to town on his boyfriend. It was, one could say... a windy day. But little did anyone know, that this wind, in all its windy windiness, was carrying: DEATH!!!! *** The outskirts of Spalding. Two mustachioed gentlemen sat together on a log, gazing at the sky. The pair were birdwatchers, you see, and it had become a favorite pastime of theirs to stroll out of town on occasion to take a gander at the local avian fauna, which they would identify and catalogue for their own entertainment. Today was no exception: their eyes were glued to their binoculars, which in turn scanned back and forth in the hopes of catching a stray pair of wings for the two men to gawk at in tandem. "I say!" one said at last, "Jerome! Have a look at this fine specimen!" Jerome swiveled his binoculars in the direction indicated. His eyes widened behind the glass lenses at he caught sight of a... a... goodness, what the devil was that? "Ah... yes... a fine specimen indeed..." "A thick-billed budgerigar, perhaps?" Jerome laughed. "Oh, so one might think! But budgerigars only have two eyes, do they not? Whereas this fellow here has three! As such, it can only be a Triclopean Goshawk." "Aren't goshawks bigger than that?" "Well, yes, but... it could be a juvenile." The other man frowned, and squinted again. "What's with those purple clouds coming off it, then?" "Perhaps a bad case of flatulence?" The two men chuckled merrily as the strange bird flew over them. They chuckled merrily as they wiped their brows with handkerchiefs, and turned their eyes back to the open skies. They chuckled merrily as they ignored the tiny purplish particles trailing down in the mutant bird's wake and settling around them, seeping in through their mouths and nostrils and infecting their respective bloodstreams. They chuckled merrily, as they tore each other to shreds in the throes of bloodthirsty rage. *** The mutant bird flew on, and Maleficence spooled down in its wake, dispersed onto the winds with every flap of its twisted wings. All throughout the town of Spalding, people began to twitch, their eyes going bloodshot as something vile and vicious began to seep into their veins. First came the shouts, and then came the screams... ...and then came the shriek of an old woman, who roused amidst the tumult and fumbled for the wooden staff that leaned against the wall by her bedside. "Doggone it, not again!"
  3. A Night To Remember A woman of pale skin and deep red hair danced. Choreographed and in sync with the booming music of a loud party that smelled of affluence and greed. She danced. She danced for Money. She danced for attention. She danced because she had to. She danced to survive. A cityscape of lights, buildings, and a patchwork of lives and stories were the backdrop to a party taking place on a hillside manor that hung tightly to the cliff it was built upon. It’s rich and artful design reeked of money gained from less than admirable revenues. Yet that didn’t bother her. Miss Blonde watched the young woman from the sidelines. With a stiff drink in her hand, the Crime Lord took a hard swig before turning to the right and moving away from the cliffside deck that overlooked the vast cityscape of Hellsgate. It was all too familiar to her. The chatting around the pool, the lights, the fake laughter, the hedonism. She had grown up in a world like this, and she had grown tired of it. She had grown tired of the parties and the people who gussied themselves up for a night of vanity self indulgence. A night of whose who and whose wearing what label. It was all so very superficial. Yet, she was here. She was here for a reason. One that was beyond the vanity and glitz of the evening. Solomon the PlanesWalker, a man who could navigate dimensions from what she was told. A man who could help her achieve the goal that had eluded her for these last few months. A man who she intended to either hire or force into her service. Though Miss Blonde wasn’t alone in this task, she was with someone who had given her hope. She was with Jack, a man who she loved and had become quickly enamored with as she spent more and more time in this realm. So much so that she didn’t want to return home. Spotting him at the bar in the living room of this manor, she stepped past the random pairings of people finding love for the evening. She pushed past the haze of smoke and illicit drugs that were being smoked and injected. She walked steadily to find Jack at the bar and stand next to him. Her dark metallic mask stared up at him and he’d be able to tell that she was concerned. The guest of honor had yet to arrive and despite all her planning, it all came down to whether or not some drunken debauched wizard decided to come to a party. ”Keep your eyes open. I imagine there’s a lot of people here who are dealing with their own business tonight.”!Her robotic laced voice said to Jack before downing her drink and ordering another from the barkeep. Tonight was going to go south. She could feel it in her bones. @danzilla3
  4. For the first time... ever... Thurgood and Aveline Singlance took a rigid aerostat to the very well illuminated commercial city. It cost significantly more to do so, but Aveline brought her F-350 along with a thirty-foot gooseneck flatbed trailer that was enclosed until a hydra neck flattened it. The only reason it's servicable now is because of a lot of wood and bolts. The tires don't even have air: they're filled with dried grasses that more or less serve the same function. But Port Sun is a large city, and would be slow to travel on foot. Besides, how would they get the cargo back to Lunaris from Casper? Unfortunately, all the airships departing from anywhere on Ursa Madeum were completely crammed for months. What brought them here though, is their rapidly dwindling supply of soda syrup Thurgood brought back on his last (most likely ever) trip to Gaia Prime. So they need to find a source on Valucre. In the process, they hope to perhaps make some business connections, so once their industrial projects in Ursa Madeum start producing, they may find buyers. First order of business though, is to convert their Terran precious metallic coin into Renovatian gemstone coin. So once again, the diesel engine growls as it powers the truck, trailer, and siblings through the underground tunnels into the city proper. @Thotification @SteamWarden
  5. The Deus Ex Machina <-These grounds are within my own mind. Long gone are the trap doors for my pride to constrict me to. I have been time displaced, micro managed by hands that are not my own. I feel that each interpretation of myself has attempted to stop me from realizing my full potential. Whatever secret they know about my actions, I want to experience them as well and see for myself. It's ignorant to continue to stay a slave to what I've been told. A puppet on strings...no longer. No longer will I allow my peace to be stifled by regret and wonder. I have to release this blade, wield it with my own hands, take control, and pull the wool from over everyones' eyes. Once I do this, all the mercy I've shown will be undone. I am reversing a choice I am meant to live with. I am asking for both Eternals to go to war on this planet... The good news is...the pockets of space time distortion all about this world will open gates that restore a portion of the power I used to seal the worlds. These thresholds can grant me access to so much more. I cannot just taste true power and leave it buried. If I collect from the time distortions....I can become whole again...it'll be at the expense of peace on this planet. Well, I dont owe this planet anymore labor, anymore nursing, anymore passes! This is about me now and I want my glory back! This planet has taken everything from me and I can't prosper from it? I cant have the spotlight? No, my power is my own. I will take it back. This feeling has me trembling with excitement. I have never been so power hungry, but now.... after struggling to kill a single succubus...I want this....I fucking NEED this. Before I am spent...I believe it's time to bring The Deus Ex Machina back to reality..-> -Time distortions appear throughout the world as the sword is removed from the stone. Treasures, Ruins, strange creatures, mythical beings, and infinite amounts of possibilities pour out. Overtime lands were changing, some from peril, some from fortune. A day goes by before the conjoined worlds' curiosities became an attraction. -
  6. Deep within the land amongst the hustle and bussle of a market towns in the remote floating isles. A hidden gem amongst those who kept their noses burried in their research only dream of, a black market for all of those not so easy to find articles that most shops wouldnt dare sell. Emmeline, made her way through the crowded market of the hidden city. She was in search of a black herb known of coal ivy said to grow where those of unatural life have been spawned. This toxic little plant made a kick to her explosive potions so that the undead would slowly fall apart after being hit with the potion of her perfected recipie. Though this was only one of the many rare finds she has on her shoping list. The chime of her potion bottle rang as she walked her cloak over her brightly purple hair. Her pale blue iris scanning over the stslls as she passed nothing struck yer fancy... yet.
  7. Lyonesse - 50 years ago from current time... A BLACK SPEAR CARTEL STORY This was a tale from fifty years ago, back when the Blackspear cartel was still alive. This was a time when the (WIP)
  8. It was supposed to be simple. Get in, learn what the group of thugs in Last Chance were up to, report back and collect an easy paycheck. Instead Viola found herself half collapsed from exhaustion in a back alley with a trail of blood in her wake. As roaches crisscrossed at her feet the young woman brushed hair out of her face with a quivering right hand. It wasn’t the violence that had bothered her, no, it was the fear of what the authorities would do or what the merchant guild that had contracted her would report. As the sweat began to collect around her brow and descend down her cheeks the blade-for-hire arose from her huddled crouch and used her left arm to brace herself. As she regained her balance she tried to recall what had just happened. A guild of merchants loosely associated with Argus Incorporated had asked her to look into a group of thugs that had been eyeing their contraband. The group was believed to have been tied to various wings of the black market and possibly to a larger criminal organization. The merchants had feared that the ruffians were sizing their operation up, possibly to shake them down for “protection money” or to dissuade them from ever being fully immersed into Argus’ larger organization. Of course the merchants had no interest in splitting profits with Argus nor with a criminal element and thus hiring someone who seemed as capable as Viola made a lot of sense. A portly alchemist with a long braided gray beard had informed her, ”go to the Prosperity Inn & Casino. That’s their hideout, they’ll be easy to find. Once you connect with them find out why they keep sending brutes to our district and report back. Four-hundred coins if you can get us anything useful. Double that if you can convince them to stay away.” It sounded simple enough, however… it turns out that a few bourbons and losing one, two, or six hands of poker are a bad combination. When a group of three of the vandals took her out to the back of Prosperity to collect she was already in a foul mood. Instead of learning anything about their organization or intimidating the shady customers she instead used violence to avoid paying for her losses at the aforementioned poker table. “Ok missy, you can pay what you owe or we can beat it out of ya,” one of the bruisers firmly stated. Viola looked at him enraged, though she had lost fairly she wasn’t about to part with the coin she earned. Especially since she was certain that her luck was just about to turn! Had they given her just a few more hands she would’ve been up. “Hold on,” Viola replied, “let me grab your pay for you.” A flash of steel, a glint in her eye, and suddenly there was just one bouncer standing where before there had been three. As the young woman slashed her katana towards the remaining criminal he backed away, causing her to barely slice a part of his forearm. With terror in his eyes the last of her foes cried for help whilst retreating back into the grime of Prosperity’s Inn. The reckless youth did not wait around for reinforcements. Running and zigzagging through alleyways until she was certain no one had followed her. Now arisen to her feet with one arm holding to the walls of the establishment on her left and the other arm adjusting her sheath she let out a sigh. Her face was dirty, she was hungry, and it was likely she had just blown her one chance to infiltrate and dissuade this gang from carrying out whatever their sinister goal had been. “There goes my paycheck,” the hapless mercenary exclaimed, “though, perhaps I can convince someone else to go in my stead.” Viola continued to fumble around the alleyway as she contemplated her next move.
  9. ((Hey everyone, this is my warm-up to getting back into writing. It's set during Lynch's arrival to Silver Harbor, after which we'll jump ahead a year and start the actual story. Feel free to chime in if your character wishes to get involved early on. Will be running some storylines here later on, just laying groundwork for now)) No one on the ship knew who he was. That was good. The vessel shuddered as the mooring lines drew taut, anchoring the lumbering ship into position at the city docks. Passengers still seated grabbed onto their belongings to prevent them from falling, and those impatient enough to have already stood were jolted about as the ship gently collided with the wooden ramp. A chorus of complaints muttered out from the array of citizens as they gathered their items, pulling bags from beneath chairs and the racks above their heads. From his seat near the back of the ship, Avarice Lynch took a sip of watery tea, contentedly staying in his seat as the rest of the ship's passengers burst into shuffling movement. He leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his well-trimmed black hair, and casting a gaze through the dirty porthole to his left. The sun was just beginning to rise over the houses and shacks of Silver Harbor, casting the city in a pale yellow light and turning the harbor waters to shining glass. Another clean slate. Another “fresh start”. A touch at his shoulder made him look up. His gnoll companion's mottled grey snout stuck out from the hood of its cloak, and a pair of yellowed hyena eyes peered out from the shadow of the garment. The beast held the handles of both suitcases in one hand, and jerked its head towards the exit with a grunt. "Yes. I suppose it is time again." He rose to his feet, smoothing out the wrinkles in his long coat as he did. He strode towards the front of the ship, through the now-empty aisle, his posture straightening and becoming more regal with each step. It was a mask he had worn for years, but one that had faltered often in the past year. It would take time to become practiced in it again. A dockhand and a bored city guardsman stood at the bottom of the disembark ramp, patiently waiting for the last of the passengers to leave. Lynch set his most disarming smile in place and handed the guardsman his papers, complete with an elegantly forged seal, which had come at no small cost. The guardsman scanned the document with one eye, and looked up at Lynch, as if sizing him up. Only years of deception kept the wave of anxiety from reaching Lynch's face, and the smile held through the agonizingly long moment before the guard stuck his hand out, offering the paper back. They didn't know who he was. They didn't know why he had come to their little harbor in the Southern Swell. If they had, they would have thrown him in the ocean without a second thought. * * * * "It reeks down here." The gnoll huffed for the fourth time as they made their way up the creaking wooden stairs from the docks and up towards the small city of Silver Harbor. His name was Roht, and besides carrying all his and Lynch's belongings in both hands, he made it his mission to voice his displeasure at every turn. Lynch waved a hand dismissively as they climbed the steps. "That's opportunity you smell." "Yeah? Opportunity smells like salt water and dead fish." The gnoll snorted hard, as if to expel the sensation of Silver Harbor from his nostrils. "And not like silver at all." "It's not called Silver Harbor for its wealth, Roht." Lynch stopped halfway up the steps, and turned towards the sea, forcing Roht to lumber to a slow stop next to him. Lynch raised a hand to point to the southwest, where a pair of bluffs bracketed the long harbor near its mouth. "The setting sun crosses between the bluffs, and the light echoes from the limestone cliffs. The harbor gleams like a sheet of silver every evening. It's a beautiful thing." Roht grunted with disinterest. "It's beautiful, Roht." Lynch repeated, giving his guardian a sideways look. The sun was still high, and it would be some hours before the Silver Hour, as it was known. Lynch wished he could stay and witness it, but his mind was already accelerating through the steps ahead. "The things we build. All we accomplish." He allowed himself one last smile towards the sea. "It all begins here."
  10. "Famine, a scourge that always had threaten the stability of a diet, it caused by hunger of the people would always be present,but today the scourge shall meet its first fallings"-King Lewis Tis was a normal arid day in the kingdom of Lexdord. The skyies with clouds streaking across like missle trails or jet trails, as they leave their exhaust. But today yet again begin the threats of riot caused by this hunger. Dispite the influencers powers it could no longer hold them back. It was alone, against almost a million minds and now it became overwhelmed. "This stupid thing! Always gafailing at the worst times!, who ever wanted this ancient device clearly never saw its limits!" Said a technician who was looking at it inside and out. "Yes a bit outdated but it survived, plus we can. Always upgrade it to updated standards" said Rotwell But lets not pay attention to that -----elsewhere in Lexdord city In one of five generic (boring) schools at a science fair were a child namex Rachel Oli had "Water as you might already tell can retain and contain information the same way memory chips do except better much better, Now I was thinking that by using radiation we could do stuff like transport goods from one place on the world to another insta-" At this point the judges had begun walking away (rude ikr) but it was due to fact that well there were already meny other ways and they just plain didnt like the idea. "..........well then dont worry I have.....ummm a second project that is...well REALLY IMPORTAINT...LOTA MONEY INVOLVED" that part was sorta. True,to create the mechine she had to over a course of a year buy parts the altogether costs around 789,652 common diamonds (or 1,124,665 U.S dollars) which is buy itself alot of money. Origanly it was built for the purpose of getting herself into her scientist career or perhaps even starting her own company, like meny others at her school who all wanted to become similar things "Let me tell you about something revolutionary and exciting, something also including water"
  11. Welcome to Forgotten Lore, a modern-time fantasy play-by-post roleplay. Strong and starting roleplayers alike are welcome to join our little community and adventure with us. All types of fantasy are welcome here as are all players. Be respectful and follow the standard rules as well as the few other rules of the establishment and enjoy the ride. The following front pages will contain more information about the roleplay and what is and is not acceptable here. Feel free to read and ask questions if you have any. No need to ask for permission to join, if you like what you see simply post to join in.
  12. Everything is so dark.... Where am I? A girl around the age of 21 laid on the ground of a room with padded walls restrained with a straight jacket, dark grape colored bruises covered her neck. Her eyes had the darkest dark circles anyone could have, along with the sense of death coming from her eyes. Veronica. Her name was Veronica, she had long black hair that flowed down her shoulders and high cheek bones that could be kill a man. Everything was blurry, just big blurry shapes. The only thing she really could make out was the door in front of her with bars going down the open window. What did she do to end up here? She thought to herself as she sat up slowly falling back almost but managed. "Hello?" she called out her voice soft and raspy. Nothing, just the sounds of groans from other what you could call cells. Along with frantic mumbling and laughing from down the hallway. Veronica took her time standing up going to the door before she fell back as a man with rounded glasses and slicked back blonde hair looked through the small window. He wrote down a few notes on a cracked clipboard, "Veronica Wisely....Mentally unstable....shock therapy seemed effective.... " he mumbled as he wrote down his notes before noticing her trying to figure out who he was. A small smirk came to his face, "Morning sunshine....you feeling the need to slit your wrists again?" he asked as Veronica started to remember everything. It all came back before a sharp shock of pain busted through her head. "AGH!" she groaned loudly as the male chuckled. "Fucking insane whore." With that Another memory came to Veronica. This male was Dr. Thomas D Smith. The lead doctor of the insane asylum she was put in. "Have fun dear...the nurses will take you down when social hour is near." he said banging on the door walking away. Veronica panted then screamed trying to get out of the straight jacket. "YOUR INSANE! I'M NOT INSANE!" she screamed as tears streamed down her face. "I'M NOT INSANE I'M NOT INSANE!" Hours later Veronica was taken to a room where other people rocked in chairs or sat in corners holding blankets and stuffed animals, a radio played with old swing music playing. She groaned as she now had a muzzle on from trying to bite a nurse along with the same straight jacket she was in. She was put in a chair near the radio, her eyebrows furrowed as she scanned the small room scoffing at everyone she saw. "I'm clearly more stable then half the idiots in this place." she growled. (Hey there! Just a heads up later on I will be posting character descriptions on my own account if you want to know background info or you can leave that up to the roleplay to reveal! I will be roleplaying Veronica and Dr. Thomas D Smith as well! Have fun! Please write at least four to five sentences before submitting so it makes it easier to reply! Thanks! -Noah ? )
  13. WELCOME TO THE REVERIE BALL! On the night of December 25th the castle of Andelusia opens its doors to all citizens of Valucre, far and wide, to come mingle and dance! The floor of the castle and the courtyard outside are all available for public usage. In all rooms there is music playing, each room playing a different song. Perhaps even a different type of music. Spectacular food is served in every room, though the Dining Room is where the most magnificent food rests. From snacks to full meals, everything someone would want lays upon the table. Despite the main food on the table is from Ursa Madeum and Taen, the side food comes from throughout Valucre. Those who participated in the ANT conferences would recognize the castle. However, this time, every room was decked in blue and green decorations. At least one unlit cauldron had been put in each room, some surrounded by wrapped presents without labels. The same day an announcement was sent out to the public and to those allied with Taen Empire. It stated that starting from the 25th of December, the Taen Empire would no longer be referred to as the Taen Empire. As of now, the Empire is switching to the name Veluriyam Empire. Although not known to the public, those with connections in Veluriyam Empire might discover the Veluriyam is a Mork'Outh word for Open Sky. Within the hour of opening the castle filled. Emperor Titus stands in the Sun Room, a glass of wine in his hands as he leans against the wall while he speaks to some Renovation dignitaries. The Ballroom is where Princess Teresa finds herself, dancing with one of her guards but keeping an eye out for someone not on her father's payroll. Someone not lame. Green means open; red means closed. @Tyler @Eternity @supernal @KittyvonCupcake @notmuch_23 @vielle @LikelyMissFortune @danzilla3 @Sleepy Seal @Grubbistch @Alexei @Witches Brew @Praetorian
  14. Van's index runs through the holodisplay, causing the article to rapidly scroll. The actual content is irrelevant, there is nothing that the Daily Weekly could report on that he cared about it. Any information they might have, he already had and in greater detail. Anything that they had that he doesn't, well that was purely baseless speculation. No, what he is interested in are the pictures. "To think, Last Chance of all places." The Peacekeeper murmurs to himself, while glancing through the stills. "Do you think it's because they assumed that Last Chance would be poorly defended? An easy first target?" There is no response, which surprises him. Clearly his crack team are too busy with running the office to humor his inane questions. "Stoooooooop ignoring me... please?" Van, we're busy right now. Unless it is official business, stop bugging us. You're the one who wanted to go on holiday in Last Chance of all places. So go enjoy your vacation. "I'm not on vacation, I'm working, this is official business. Mostly." He pauses, picks up a mug and sips from it, before finally shrugging. "You know what, you're right. Byyyyyyyyyyyyye." The mentally audible static of the coms link vanishes as the connection breaks. For the moment, he's alone with his thoughts. Leaning back into the wrought iron chair, coffee in hand, Van looks off into the early morning sky. The people of Last Chance, the more honest people, are just starting to venture from their homes to conduct business, while the nightly scum scurry away hide. Well, that probably isn't a fair assessment. There are probably equal numbers of scumbags present during the day and night, some just happened to be nocturnal. Finishing the last sip of coffee, and setting the mug on the table, Van returns to the display. A swiping motion discards the DW article, and a jab opens a text box. Good Morning Michael, it's Van. I'm in Last Chance today, visiting mostly. I heard about the beach battle you took part in. I was wondering if you had some time to discuss it in person. I'm thinking a very loud very public statement needs to be made. The brash are getting brasher, and criminals shouldn't be so bold. If you're interested, meet me at Delrona's Cafe on 6th and Main. @amenities With the message sent, Van closes out the display, causing a grid of lights to flicker from existence. "I wonder if I should have mentioned that I'm me Van and not some other Van...." The idea hadn't occurred to him before because by all accounts, in Hell's Gate anyway, he is a minor celebrity. But here, in Last Chance.... well, he's a no one. "Kinda nice not being recognized."
  15. In a world rife with suffering, there are very few things that Ashton finds beautiful. At least, very few man made things. It isn't that he feels disdain for humanity, let alone its creations. No, the vast majority of people were good or at the very least didn't want to go out of their way to fuck other people over. The vast majority of people were moderately considerate, and made a conscious decision to not take advantage of or hurt others directly or indirectly. No, it really was a small minority of the population that caused trouble and an even smaller minority that caused significant problems. Yet, they were vocal, and worse yet garnered attention. This unfortunately has the profound impact of negatively influencing his perception and leaving him jaded against the general population. And yet, even knowing all of this, Ashton can no longer find the beauty in people or their creations. What he does find beauty in, is nature. And while the Hills of Noddendoddy lack many characteristics that might be considered aesthetically pleasing, Ashton can't help but see the majesty in them. They are simple, unchanging, they endlessly persevere, even as the world collapses around them. The grass is a gorgeous green, and the endless sea of cresting and rolling hills pulls the mind away and lets it drift aimless. It is for this reason, of course, that Ashton decided to have a picnic atop the highest crest, overlooking the lowest valley, and the great divide within sight. Admittedly, the scar on the land, lifeless and barren, is a strong contrast to the rest of the hills. By all account, it is ugly. But even this lifeless expanse has its own charm and beauty. Perhaps in the same way that an extremely ugly dog is cute. Sitting cross legged in the grass, while taking a bite from a sandwich, Ashton contemplates this contradiction. His head tilts to the side, sending flaming locks swaying, as his smoldering gaze follows the event horizon that marks the abrupt shift from paradise to damnation. "I wonder what would happen if you transplanted soil from one side to the other?" A question asked to no one, or perhaps the loci, or maybe to himself.
  16. - Deep in the Terrenus Wilderness - - Moi's Clearing, Great Pine Barrens - The sweet songs of wildlife filled the forest in celebration. At peace without the stench of Human to draw their noses. The Sun rose high above the trees over a clearing revealing a black fox and a red raven dancing around a shadowy orb.
  17. Athentha a place of magic, shadows yet it is also a place where species had been brought to live together. Yet if there was the one thing that concerned Lexdord's people it would be the suddenn rise of demon presence in the area and vampiric rule. Yet they said not a thing about it as they felt above war dispite preparing for one just incase Although when this story starts is just the retrival of the Blackheart mirror from within the depths of the ruins. However upon searching Cali had found an excellent way of getting his hands on it, yet this involed making an exact replica which had an identical magical discharge to the mirror. Then there was the problem of transporting it, how was he going to carry a cursed Mirror without being cursed himself? The dilemmas were making this all the less profitable. At least while they were still inside the ruins. By now they were almost back at the town and Cali came up with a plan, he did call pirates and pretended to be as naive but he also called his shipwhich during or after the inital pirate attack would set an extraction point. Then they should be off the island with a few less pirates to deal with and a cursed mirror to use. It was a good plan but it had yet to be perfected as there were meny flaws that he should have considered but chose not to.
  18. Study this house, Roen said in his silent voice. Study its doors, its rooms, its patterns. The castle will perish as will the tower I built in far-off Terrenus, but this house will last to serve its purpose. He went down the stairs, and walked around the house slowly, in and around, laying a hand upon its doorframes and its brass knobs and musing at the paintings in the dining room and the lovely plaster ornament that everywhere decorated its ceilings, while cradling his young son. Yes, a beautiful house, the Outsider thought. He went out into the gardens. He perceived what had been done - what he had done [/i] - a great octagon of a lawn, with an octagon carved in the stone posts that ended the limestone balustrades. And everywhere flagstones at angles, so that one was beset in the moonlight with lines and designs and patterns. “Look at the roses in the iron,” said Roen to his son. By this he meant the cast-iron railings. And Philippe looked with his bright green eyes, lines at the angles, echoing the angles of the flags, as well as the roses. They moved on together, father and son. The polyglot house, the beautiful villa with its cast-rion lace and Corinthian columns and Doric and Ionic columns, and the keyhole doorways. An immense swimming pool had been built to the rear of the lawn, and a cabana was built to the south side of the pool so that guests could shower and dress without going into the house. He walked passed the curved Italianate windows on the north side beneath fifteen-foot ceilings, a great trap for light and cool breezes, a citadel against the heat of Orisian summers. Remember these things, Roen thought to his son. For this house will last. It was not only for Philippe’s benefit that the Outsider wandered this home, their home, but for his own, too. Remember this place if you would linger or come back; remember its patterns. In the dim world beyond they will shine in your eyes, they will guide you home. This is a house for centuries to come. This is a house worthy of the spirits of the dead; this is a house in which you may safely remain. War or revolution or fire, or the river’s current, will not trouble you. He paused, tilting his head, his dark eyes roaming. “I was held once.. by two patterns. Two simple patterns. A circle, and stones in the form of a cross. Two patterns..,” he trailed off, his eyes distant, his memory far away. Philippe fidgeted, and Roen was drawn away from his reverie. The house, the house; the villa Roen had purchased and refurbished, spending a fortune on new paint, plaster, draperies, and delicate expensive furniture in the art deco style. The double parlor was crowded with potted palms, giving off an clean, earthy scent. A Bozendorfer grand piano had been acquired, though its lineage - and importance - was known only to the Outsider. He had done all that he could to make it a comfortable place to live, not only escape to. In many ways, it reminded him of his villa in the Black City, now long since gone. It was refuge and home in a place he spent more time being, bar none. Taking Philippe to his crib, Roen laid the boy down and breathed out a contented sigh, leaning against the edge. It was a strong house, a sturdy one, built in the southern districts of the capital near the waterfront. A modest estate nearly an acre in size, it was private enough to ensure some semblance of quiet, but had neighbors on either side of it that reminded all involved it was not nearly a remote locale. And Roen loved it, suffice to say. Most important, he loved it. Though pride and assertion said the castle was his home, though many would say the Black City and the Lore-Spire were his haunts, this place, this manor and these gardens, they were his to own and his to cherish, and so he did. This would be his home, his and Philippe’s, and Irene, too. The family home. Tucking Philippe in with one of his favorite toys - a stuffed animal, a blue elephant - Roen leaned away and turned, looking around, breathing in the cleanliness of his home, the freshness. He had shown it to Gabriela, of course. When it was empty, before he had refurbished it. But it was now, only recently, that it was fit for living. Leaving instructions at the castle that she could find him at his - their - private residence, after spending untold hours waiting for her return, Roen found himself wandering the tidy hallways of the manor, and eventually found his way to the kitchen, with its center marble island loaded with fruits. He sat on it and leaned back, and relaxed on his haunches as the cool, autumn breeze filtered in through the windows, bringing with it the scent of jasmine in from the gardens. A quiet night, a simple one, and one which he indulged in fully. He should have been working, the devil. He should have been preparing things for the Black City, for the Summer Isles, or even his interests beyond. But he wasn’t, at least not yet. He was content to sit, and wait for Irene to return, so that they could plan together, or at least plan with a semblance of her input.
  19. The island of Amalia, isolated from the rest of time for so meny years life forms thought to have gone extinct during the early days of civilisation live and some still thrive to this very day. The fact that this island had an existing hive mind or semi-hive was of great intrest to Lexdord. Although one might find it strange that Lexdord wasnt interested in the others that had been discovered like in taen. The answer to that would be simple...you see these were one of the less hostile hive minds that have gone around, not to mention they were quite underdeveloped in terms of economical efficiency their technology however was quite equivalent to most civilisations heading straight foward into the information age. ----On the Airship "This place is perfect for beginging our corporation!" Segi had screamed excitedly. The rest of the crew nodded as the airship began to land lightly on the beach of Amalia, upon looking he saw quiet untamed mountain like wilderness yet behind it he saw the life of a settlement. "Look there it is, now begin setting up advertisements....we'll need all we can get"
  20. (OOC note that this takes place a couple of months before hand, which was when it was originally supost to be made) "There are places to be and things to do, everyone has a job, there is work to be had and people acquired, everybody has a purpose, there are lands to defends and land to leave, there are people to save and people to leave. The choice of fate lay in those with the power to do so. Yet to those that lay powerless there choice is determined by fate" It had been over an hour since the sun came up and what a cold morning it was. Dispite it regularly being hot and arid in the kingdom of Lexdord however it did happen at Certain times of the year. The wasteland plains that streched for tens or even a couple hundred miles beyond the city limits would look discuraging for those who weren't used to it. Yet to those who were recalled it as a normal thing, to some it even appeared to be a sanctuary as there were really no real wild dangerous monsters going about or any of the troubles that come from other lands, empires or nations. Particularly Lexdord was a very safe place to be in or at the most safer then most. Yet there was that famine problem, and having nothing but wasteland to cultivate didnt really help the situation which was trying to solve itself. The goverment had looked over diffrent lands, they would seek a colony in the north dedicated to just farms but they realised that they didn't have enough man power to create one that would remain stable for long. It take long though, they had a plan to put into action. What was this grand plan? To go into the lands of Alterion and begin advertising their sanctuary as a prime location to be in saying that future generations would be in safe stable hands "Dont you want your child to see the world not as a playground of just bloodshed and suffering?, dont you want to look at your children and not have to tell them that death is near?..... Lexdord where the future is protected and cared for" Was the voice of a female projecting off of an ad Air ships which included 3 transports a battleship and a Pincer class ship (A class which are able to exceed extraordinary speeds but however only have few point defence guns as their weapon) lead by Commander Titian were soon enforced to collect those willing to leave a land of sufferings and enter a land of peace and security And Work.. "Report?" She asked the computer -Status of weather conditions are recovering it is safe to travel through now- it had displayed "Para warp report?" -Ready to launch- "Set a course for Alterion smake in the middle of the primitive lands! And extend the field to the rest of this fleet" -Affirmative activating Para drive protocols and informing crew with 30 second delay- The humming of the Para could be heard in pulses, at the same time the area aroubd the airship and the airships following began to wrap and become increasingly distorted as the Para's electronics were bending literal reality just to reach its destination. -30%....42%- Not a suprise that it take awhile for it to engage but it was taking its time -67%..................89%- The crew began to get into seats -93%.........100% 30 second delay active- The crews from the other 5 ships were preparing as the synchronized countdown continued -10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...Engage They suddenly saw the land melt away as colors blended together, this didn't last long though as soon within under a couple of minutes the colors around reconfigured themselves to reveal the lands. "The first of meny to soon have them travel to Lexdord"
  21. Cothmas was always my favorite time of year. Something about the cold and the snow made everyone get a little closer. I don't know, it always felt that way to me. I loved playing with the snakes when I was a boy, I'd laugh when they'd roll around the living room with me, or play fight me with their fangs still retracted. As the night drew on, just before they'd vanish back to god, my parents and my grandfather and I would just sit with the snakes for a while in front of the tree, with all its many colored fires, and eat our Cothmas candy and just be for a few minutes. Be together. Be at peace. I didn't mind it when I was a kid, but I really get it now that I have kids of my own. Once the snakes went back to god, though, that was when my favorite part of Cothmas would begin. I'd kiss my parents good night, gather up all the silly presents I'd gotten and meet grandpa in my room. He was always waiting there, seated beside my bed, storybook in hand. Cothmas was a time for family, I knew, but now I think he rode the Bullet Train all the way from Temple City into Coth's station just to make sure I heard the story of the first Cothmas every year. He's one of the few people from my childhood whose face I remember exactly. Sharp eyes. That big bushy mustache, and those eyebrows, and the wild swept back hair in a tangle of smoky grey and white . The man had never seen a brush, I imagined. That's wizards for you. I'd vault in to bed, pull the covers up and give him a solemn nod. Nothing more needed to be said, and he'd crack the book open beside me and begin, "Cothmas is god's day." he would always start, "In the very beginning, when god was still new and Coth was a tiny little village unknown to the rest of the world, Cothmas became as we know it today. Constans and god's Chosen Scrivener Ioreth tell the story thusly:" The story of Cothmas is steeped in the deepest solemnity and devotion to god. The tale is one of great triumphs over wild forces, and the binding together of a holy family of friendship. It contains strange creatures, great conflicts, and heroic efforts acted out by not only we two writers, but by some of our dearest and most faithful friends and servants of god. Originally, Cothmas had begun as Coth's Mass, an invitation to all faithful people to pilgrimage to Coth and together as one single faith fall to our knees before god and thank him for finding us and for saving us. Yet near the time the special ceremony was scheduled, indeed the very night before, god placed before his most devout servants something of a test of character. The travails of this night inspired so many of the Cothmas traditions we know today that Lady Ioreth and I have come to believe it is worthy of a proper retelling, to set the matter straight and educate all Cothites as to why they enjoy some of the strange and miraculous things we've come to expect from Cothmas. The story of Cothmas begins when I was praying in the cellar of the Church, on my knees thanking god... "Ioreth." Constans moaned, "Where do you get this stuff?" He took another huge gulp of the honey-wine. He was in the elf's new parlor. "This is the best thing I have ever tasted." he said, holding it up by his shoulder. The snake around his neck piqued up at the glass, nosed at it some, and dunked its head in, lapping twice at the sweet wine before resuming its place asleep upon its master. Constans was sitting on a creaky rocking chair, his sleeves pulled up and his cloak thrown over the backrest. His tan boots were at the door, which left him looking a bit plant-like in his green doublet and brown leathers. He had been the first to arrive for the very informal celebration before tomorrow's ceremony. A little socializing, a toast to success tomorrow, and an early night seemed to Constans the picture of a good Coth's Mass eve. It would be a nice tradition to carry into the future. Ioreth was right, everything he did was so public. He deserved to enjoy a relaxing night with his friends. "Not to make a big deal out of it tonight, but there are some people coming in the next week or two, dignitaries from a place called Temple City, up north. They say they want to hear about our god." if he sounded skeptical, he was. He'd heard tell that the green sun had been seen much farther away than the borders of Coth, but even still newcomers inquiring about god so soon were either hucksters or, more hopefully, divinely guided. "I just wanted to make sure you'd be around. They claim to be a order of knights." he said, helping himself to another mouthful of wine. It was so sweet he could barely taste the alcohol at all, which made it very easy to drink! @KittyvonCupcake @Spooky Mittens @Better Than Gore @LikelyMissFortune @Fennis Ursai
  22. In Dougton, there was once an orphanage. It was capable of housing 24 children - quite the feat for a single headmistress. It was a gorgeous home with an inviting layout. Though it's headmistress had long ago disappeared, and various schemes had been planned behind it's walls, it had finally been given hope once more. Rebirth through the war, an opportunity to help. Those children displaced by the current civil war are most welcomed, with open (though slightly green) arms. The orphanage runs off of self-sustainability, a small farmyard behind the house, and lanterns to light their way. Children who come to this place are taught all the basic skills, as well as how to defend themselves to some minor degree. This is to hope that they will never become victims to tyranny, or will choose to stand against what they know is wrong. A strong sense of moral Justice is offered to those willing to learn it. For the moment, the orphanage only houses several children. While scared and distrustful, they have come to think of the orphanage as a second home where they will be protected and safe. Dhizzandra watches over them with pleased determination. The Dryad is simply happy to have a place to belong in this world - and she is pleased to help others, as well. Children 5 Adults 18 Completion of necessary buildings 50% Important threads/children acquisition: Home of the Brave. Children currently available for adoption: Blairville children: Peter – Age 12 – Blonde and amber eyed. He is a cautious, but brave young man who dislikes bullying. Lucy – Age 8 – Shy and slow to trust, a little bit bossy, as well. Lucy is definitely a kid who requires patience. Ruby – Age 6. Sweet and all too trusting, she’s got a sweet tooth like no other, however. Adopted by Rabbit. Izral Children: Susan – Age 14 – An older, jaded girl who was rescued by Jericho from a brothel in Izral. She doesn’t have much hope for the world, but she’s learning that not everyone is bad. Adopted by Danzilla3 Brinley – Age 8 – Young and cheerful, she takes joy in simple things. Jessica – Age 6 – Another young and cheerful child. She likes butterflies and flowers, but we aren’t into the flavor red this week. William – age 4. – This young boy loves to run in mud puddles and play with worms, as young boys tend to do. Caitlyn – 6 months – Often influenced by William regarding bugs and mud. She particularly dislikes nap-time. Derrick – Age 10 – Idolizes Peter and wants to protect the others from ever being treated poorly again. He’s often defensive on first meetings. Jonathan – Age 1 – Babbles with attitude. Hates diapers. Andromeda – Age 6 months – Sleeps a lot, when not screaming. Daniella – Age 10 – Sullen and moody, prone to dramatics. Kendra – Age 12 – Preteen. No more need be said. Adopted by Rabbit.
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