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Found 218 results

  1. ChaosLord

    A New Arrival

    Among the dreams of many children of the ground, there is one that finds its way into the thoughts of many and intrigues them to no end. And that would be, the dream of being able to fly in the sky, to navigate the air and transcend the limitations of being stuck on the ground. Whether it be the freedom, the ability to bypass traffic, or simply because it would let them be able to not be late or get lost to anything, this is a dream shared by many and all. However, for those who can fly, they might contest that last one. At the moment, Ayan Yurian, a young Alura Boy who had set out to see the world and become an adventurer, was lost beyond all reason. He had found the city of Umbra, sure, but it was starting to get late, and he had absolutely no idea where the tavern was. He had a map, but it made no sense to him. Of course, it didn't help he was looking at the map upside down. Either way, it was not like he could just fly forever non-stop. He spotted what appeared to be a large park or something like that, and glided down until he was at a low enough altitude. After that, he retracted his wings and bent his legs as he kicked off his boots, letting them land right next to him as he landed in a sitting position on the ground. He then let his wings stretch out once more as he stretched out his arms, enjoying the mobility he felt wearing a sleeveless jacket and shirt along with his shorts. "I suppose if I cant find the place, I could always sleep here. Could probably find a river to bathe in too....but I was kind of looking forward to enjoying a tavern, and a real bath. Or at least a real shower...I wonder what they are like?" Ayan had only lived with his family, his clan, and so his curios mind started to wonder if they had different customs then what he was used to or not. Despite his curiosity, he had yet to consider asking for directions yet, which could indicate a bit of airheadedness.... @The Hummingbird
  2. Outsider. Unnatural. Heretic. Bittersweet were the epithets that tripped off the wagging tongues of those who could not appreciate Caeceila Glasmann's affliction. In their unflagging ignorance, the superstitious and the malcontent readily misrepresented Caeceila's motives and branded her with all manner of vulgar misnomers, none of which bear repeating, that overplayed her purported ruthless efficiency and insatiable lust for blood. Of late, Hell's Gate was a cornucopia of such rumors where the nobility was concerned, particularly in drinking establishments frequented by the lower classes. In truth, anyone who was anyone could testify that none of these labels applied to Caeceila, for definitive knowledge of her condition, at least among the powers that be, easily outpaced the gossipmongers' litany. Nevertheless, a convenient lie coupled with Caeceila's newfound notoriety had transformed her into a symbol entities with an agenda could assail. She was much despised by the downtrodden who had lost their livelihoods to astounding advances in industrial automation, marked forever as a noble who cared more for the welfare of strangers than the poignant suffering of her own people, and they sought to vilify her for that injustice whether or not she was a deserving recipient of their rage. Was it any surprise, then, that drunken rabble had assembled at the gates of the Glasmann Estate, brandishing crude, improvised weaponry, approximately a quarter of an hour before guests were permitted to set foot on the premises? Not at all. Nor was it especially alarming when the mob forced itself past the team of young, well-groomed servants unfurling plush crimson carpets in advance of whatever might constitute the evening's opening ceremony, hellbent on vandalizing Caeceila's property. It was the terror that gripped the intruders in the chaotic retreat that ensued, the sustained shrieking of adult men carted out on stretchers, and the wild-eyed stares of the handful who were silent that caused the local looky-loos to quietly disperse, leaving only the scarce few who weren't so intimidated by Caeceila's show of force that they dare not brave her lair and risk her wrath. When the servants were recalled and the stout, ebony gate slid aside, its steady, telescoping motions doing much to enrich the pageantry of the reveal, a cavernous expanse illuminated by an artificial star stretched out before the audience. A tremendous collection of life-sized metal soldiers, facing inward toward the crimson finery neatly draped over the mass of platforms spread before a fleet of luxurious hovercraft, chartered for the express purpose of conveying guests from the entrance to the estate to the manor's great hall, scintillated in rays of light cast by the setting "sun," a soft, white orb that engendered no discomfort in the eye when viewed directly. A host of six-legged robots, mobile artillery units, judging by their heavy-duty design and menacing black frames, skittered in the distance, their imposing armaments repurposed for the night's festivities, firing a ceaseless barrage of cylindrical canisters that erupted into fantastical shapes cut from brilliant light into the air above crowd. The air itself was sweet with the amalgamated scent of beds of magnolia and lilac in blossom, courtesy of a microhabitat enabled by the city's world-renowned magitech. Indeed, all kinds of flowering flora dotted the landscape, tended, as they were, by swarms of butterflies so garish their admirers might get the impression that they too dressed their Sunday best for just this occasion. Empty birdcages are suspended from towering trees, implying that the exotic songbirds they once held have been moved elsewhere until the fireworks show concludes. The palatial structure that serves as the Glasmann residence proudly stands in consummate contrast to the bulk of Hell's Gate. Artistry and craftsmanship adorn every shining facet of the ancient domicile. Each stone bespeaks both the longevity and prosperity of the venerable Glasmann line, as if the fates of House Glasmann and the city of Hell's Gate were inextricably interwoven in days of yore. Much of the central structure, in fact, predates what is now considered the basic infrastructure of Hell's Gate, painstakingly preserved from the first settlement and transferred to the modern age with a profound reverence for tradition that is so very lacking in a great number of Hell's Gate's modern nobility. All of the glasswork in the older sections of the manor has been recently rehabilitated, allowing the throng of onlookers to examine renditions of Caeceila's ancestors and key events in the history of Hell's Gate through various viewscreens in the hovercrafts as they soar toward the newest wing of the manor, a staggeringly advanced wing constructed primarily from concrete, steel, glass, and composite materials. Several other buildings are visible from the hovercraft, including a private airship dock, servants' quarters, and what appears to be a small communications center flying Drow colors, but none can hope to hold a candle to the sprawling behemoth that is the Glasmann manor. Almost universally, the atmosphere is charged with magic and excitement, for this is the maiden unveiling of the Glasmann Estate. The news crews that remain descend into a dizzying spirals of feverish activity as influential and inconsequential members of society alike are whisked, as one, into this veritable wonderland that was hiding beneath their very noses. Upon disembarking at the great hall and proceeding through its titanic, metal doors, all guests, having checked in with the servants manning the gates prior to their admittance to a hovercraft, are issued a magitech tablet displaying the itinerary for the event and assigned a personal servant who shall see to their needs for the duration of the event. After this, guests are permitted to wander the great hall and the lawn in front of the great hall with the caveat that the uppermost balcony, accessible by both a staircase and an elevator, is a restricted area. For the majority, there is little draw in scaling that cordoned off staircase, for the diversions available on the first floor, mezzanine, and lawn are guaranteed to entertain even the most boorish partygoer. From skeet shooting and dueling with foils to sipping aged Yamazaki whiskey, snacking on hors d'oeuvres prepared by a teppanyaki chef, and chatting about relics, tapestries, and hunting trophies locked in various display cabinets or fixed to the dark purple wall above the handcarved wainscoting before the roaring fire of the great hearth, all ought to find something they can enjoy until the event gets underway. Yet... The organizer of the event, Caeceila Glasmann, is nowhere to be found. As with the interlopers, this is no real cause for alarm... Except that those sensitive to the paranormal will sense that the veil is especially weak in this manor. Something is amiss, but there's no time to investigate now. A bell rings, signaling that the first round has begun. White leather armchairs, velveteen loungers, mahogany furniture, fur rugs, Byōbu and sundries have been placed on the mezzanine and the first floor to facilitate social interaction with the intent of strengthening Valucre as a whole.
  3. "Uhg....what a day" said a certain cat boy.....or rather, a cat man who appeared as a boy, said as he entered the doors of the changing room at the current place he was staying at, the Saezaeshita Hot Spring and Onsen, which was equipped with a fully developed and wonderfully made facility for him to rest and relax after a hard day's work. He had recieved an urgent request from a local hospital that had been overburdened to help deal with the recent influx or patients. And somehow, he ended up assisting with surgery to repair a man's heart. Lyrian quickly took off all his clothes and then grabbed a towel, slinging it across his shoulder instead of wrapping it around his waist. He was a doctor after all, he changed with everyone else in the locker room every day, took cleansing showers with the rest of the staff after surgery or dealing with infectious patients, and had to change the clothes of his patients even and see them naked just like how most of the staff had seen him naked today. Sure, he looked young, but that was because he was a rare strain of cat people. He looked 12, maybe 13, but he was actually 22 years old. And it did not stop him from getting married, though it did not stop the divorce either. He did think it was odd though, he thought a number of the patients had the same symptoms. The hospital took measures of course to prevent diseases from spreading, including having some of their lighting fixtures radiate light that helps deal with diseases at a level harmless to people, and had other methods as well. He started to think through all of his notes that he had taken today, but quickly shook it out of his head. He had just worked 26 hours non stop, he needed to spend some time soaking in a hot springs. He soon entered the bathing area, and went over and sat on a stool while he placed his towel in a safe spot, washing his body off before he would get into the water. He wondered if anyone was going to offer to wash his back like what sometimes happened at places like this, but for now he just started on his own so he could quickly enter the water. "I hope they wont need as much help tomorrow. I can work with low sleep just fine, but its not like I enjoy it...." he mentioned, as he enjoyed the atmosphere of the open air of the hot springs even while washing off his body before he had entered the water, including the air that felt like it cleared his nose right up and rejuvenated his body already.
  4. Just some blocks north of the Gypsey Market, is a well known and well established building in Blairville known as the Central Medical Hospital, the largest hospital in the city and a well known place for medical care. Doctors and healers move throughout the halls in droves, planning and concocting all sorts of medicines and potions to help their patents. Nurses, whether they be the kindly kind, the sweet kind, the...extremly attractive kind, or even the sassy "dont you dare get in the way of me treating my patients" kind, among others can all be found helping patients in need. Among them was Public Room 42, the Physical Therapy Room. There, a young boy stood naked as two nurses continued to examine him. His body seemed weak and scrawny, but at the same time had sort of a scrappy feel to it. However, what was only noticable thanks to him being naked were the countless scars, burn marks, and other marks that screamed all levels of abuse. There was not a doubt in anyone's mind that this boy had been repeatedly beaten, used as an ashtray, neglected, and hurt both physically and psychologically. In fact, for the first five days, he refused to let anyone touch him and they were forced to sedate him. Repeatedly. After he screamed something about dying. From what the nurses, doctors, and psychologists could tell, his parents probably beat him so badly he had thought he died, and it left an impression on him. But now, he just lacked communication. However, as per Hospital Protocol, the wounds had to be repeatedly checked, see how they reacted to medication, see how they reacted to physical stress, and see what they could do to make them less noticable. Although, it was true that his parents were apparently smart enough not to make it too noticeable, for the trained eyes of the medical staff his body was covered in evidence of abuse. Some parts of his body, they thought he might have been hit by a baseball bat. Others, cut by a knife. Definently fist marks on some places, kick marks on others. Broken bones that healed, bruises, and burn marks. At the moment, they had just made him run on the treadmill, see how his legs were doing. It seemed like he must have gotten hit on the head, because once he finally woke up after having been found naked in a field unconscious, he finally came to but could barely move his body. It took him several days to be able to walk on his own, and while he can do fine now, they still make him go around in the wheelchair. Or maybe that was just because of hospital policy? He also claimed to have no memories, aside from his name being Noah Bell. The nurses ended up giving him the nickname Nobel though, a good nickname to try and brighten the spirit of someone who had been through so much darkness. The nurses were currently just waiting on a doctor to show up, and examine him further. Noah himself found the whole situation rather embarrassing, but given the state he heard he had been found in, he didn't have much room for complaint right now. Although to be honest, he did want to leave as soon as possible. He hoped the doctor would show up soon, and just clear him to leave the hospital already. While thinking that, he continued to chew some Tooroot, something the hospital gave him. He was not a major fan of the taste, but it was apparently to help deal with the sicknesses he kept getting.
  5. "The fate of the doom station of old remained a mystery as its construction had halted over a year ago." "yet in light of new advancements and new ideas the secret service branch of the government of Lexdord came up with an idea a GRAND idea. "We are to believe that inorder to survive in an ever disordering world we need to have an ever strengthening security force both technologicaly and magically but mostly techology speaking" A speech from the king Himself just over a week ago to both respark the station and to provide a more powerful security system not just for lexdord but even its surrounding neighbors would be safe wether they know it or not They will always be under watch........ The idea was to convert the station into a security hub and replace its outdated tech with new and powerful computers which will when in operations begin its quest to survey the entire nation and more........ yet it wasnt exactly automatic as it still needed people to over look the comupters, manage security teams, hire spys, take down unwanted organizations, and eventully know every thing about everyone..... except those secret projects of Lexdord's course, the computer would be preprogrammed to mark those as nothing, no markings....no problems due to the other hundreads of nothing tags that would be present diplaying that nothing special was going on there, this is to ensure that in the case of an invasion the new holder of this station never finds out about the projects. Down below the heaven gate that would send the first crew to the station began to open......
  6. Good can only triumph when someone stands up to the darkness and shouts defiantly into the void. Illyana read that somewhere, though the title of it now escapes her best attempts at recollection. Regardless of where it came from, the words still held truth within them. It has become her mission to follow these words, and to defy the darkness with every fiber of her being. There was a knock upon her door, and a voice calling out. "My Lady, are you ready?" "Yes, Maria, I am ready." Since waking from her fitful dreams she has been praying to Gaia, hoping for insight and guidance towards the goals she has set out for herself. As always, guidance was difficult to come by from a metaphysical being, but she was confident Gaia heard her prayers, for she had welcomed the goddess into her heart completely. With the support of her matron deity, the young Lady of House Uldwar felt she could withstand any storm, walking out of her chambers with confidence and pride. This is to be the day the light returned to the islands, and people could feel hope once again within their hearts, even with everything around them being so difficult and trying. Accompanying her was her bodyguard, selected personally by her father, meaning it was one of the members of the intimidating Dogs of War. His name was Sir Aron Redford, a reserved man that showed great spirit when roused into worship of the earth goddess. A paladin he may be, Sir Redford could still be just as savage as the rest of them, that much she knew by the order's reputation alone. Hopefully he could restrain himself during their time of charity and giving back to the community. "Lady Uldwar." Sir Redford said as they exited the Keep. "Why are you dressed so plainly? Do you feel you must be disguised while out in the streets?" Instead of her usual fine clothing, Illyana had chosen simple white linens that made her look more of a healer than a noble. "During this time, Sir Redford, I am going to be very close to sick and injured people. Jewelry and silks get in the way of trying to mend those suffering, don't you think?" Nodding, Sir Redford began detailing the other details of her protection detail. "We have hired extra protection for you today, Lady Uldwar. They will be here within the hour when the boat arrives. We have also received word that a shipment of grain was coming in from Corinth, from a vassal of House Hildebrand." "Send word to the pier that shipment is to come directly to the temple without delay. The De'Laire family have been very generous to provide food for the needy people of Ursa Madeum, they deserve to travel unmolested." Gaining the support of others was a blessing, and she had made many promises to make it up to them for their help. Payments already given, and now they simply had to await it's arrival. "Yes, my Lady." When their walk had ended, Illyana and her group had arrived at the temple erected just recently, welcomed by the priests who made this place their home. Knights spread out to form a defensive line, Sir Redford staying by the noblewoman's side for protection, and Illyana went to work preparing the set up. "People are already starting to come in. We need food and drink ready for consumption, fresh bandages and wine ready to boil. From what I understand the bugbears of this island are going to be coming here as well, so keep your fears to yourself or else you'll give them the wrong idea." Human, elf, goblin, all deserved the love and grace of Gaia. By Her will, Illyana intended on sparking a new wave of religious conversions, and to save the souls of the people on these islands.
  7. In the Kastoria District, within the Iron Stronghold the street outside is crowded with a procession of priests. The Bravot Library stood as a two-story tower of polished marble, with several stained-glass windows and dwarf-wrought iron furnishings. The further corners and outline were lit by glowing gemstones set into the ceiling, casting eerie shadows on the flying machines and dangling bones of fantastic creatures overhead. The well-spaced domes of intricate detailing and artistry allow natural light to filter in. It's as charming inside as it is on the outside. Marble pillars support the upper floor and the fans attached to them. No corner is left unfilled with otherworldly gadgets, whirring gizmos, and skeletal remains of fantastic creatures. Spaced throughout the Library’s main and second story are globes—detailing far away planets and mysterious lands. There’s no discernible directory to be found, yet the plentiful staff guides have detailed and intimate knowledge of where to find just the right book. It is said that the Bravot collection is vast enough for several stories to be built underground. Some of the books could be seen floating through the halls. Tourists and scholars seem to be the primary clientele here—a good sign. Several long tables are occupied by, what seems to be entire intrigued visitors, dressed eloquently for an evening of spooks and fun, all enjoying the open space. lounging in conversation while accepting unusually colored drinks. The other, smaller tables are also occupied by people who are indulging in carving gourds and pumpkins, while others venture off to explore the complex halls of the Library. Veils of fog hover along the ground, while furniture draped in white sheets are sprinkled throughout rooms. Intricate webs are tastefully placed, courtesy of Rowan, while flickering candles hovered and wandered through over the heads of others. Mysterious twinkling lights--the mischievous Fae, no doubt--blink in and out of existence. Though the machinations that run the Bravot Library are unclear, it is immediately evident that it is no ordinary Library. While the layout presumably is all it appears, the Library itself is not—as rooms upon rooms that could not possibly fit within the confines, do! With books collected from across the multiverse, the Bravot Library is a gem to Kastoria. A lavender feline sits on a table by the entrance, the gentle echo of a voice reverberating in the minds of all who enter: Welcome, Seeker. I am called Mephisto. What and who I am is the same. I am the Articat and the Book of Descendants is my charge. You have questions, I have answers. Please enjoy a bite of food and dessert. Spirits are being served all around, drink at your own discretion. Please be aware that the rooms are very much alive, and it is easy to get lost if you wander off. There are several tricks as well as treats waiting for you within. Please be safe, and enjoy the soirée.
  8. The way the world seem to be heading for has told time and time again that Lexdord requires a new motive of transport for incase they weaken into nothing "Today we are what? A piron Engine? Do you know what that takes, how long it might take to even bring it online?" As Rotwell had sent his team of scientist to work on the projects. "yes Rotwell I know but you've got to understand that this world is the way to its end if you havent seen the reports.....so were going with building that Piron engine early rather then late" The King had said through a secure line "Dont say I didn't warn, these things are fragile as well Cap'n" "Then we'll cover it with protective metals. Now stop complaining and get reserching! Ill fax you the list of priority things." Then the screen went dark laveing Rotwell to start on the first of very difficult project to come. The scientist were baffled as neither of them knew what a Piron engine was, yet from what whas heard about it, it had something to do with super magnetic charged ion particals. The list of other technologies that were to be a priority went through the system's computer and copied itself as a paper listing just what the king wanted by the end of the year. "He does know that its not going to be easy..." As the small model funnel shape steel outer mid cast of the engine was being constructed to give it as an example of what the end product was surpost to look like. Rotwell announced to the scientist in an enclosed disclosed room about the engine and explained its purpose "So this is whats known as a piron engine" its sleek silver streaks that when compared with other engines was pretty unique. with its sharply shaped front and back enclosing a cylinder like sphere enclosed within the classic funnle cone shape of an engine "This is recalled as one of the finest engines that could ever be" of course that probely wasn't true anymore as things get updated all the time, however based on the information left from the damaged data base it pretty much was true to them. "everything that we are to work on for the future of not just our own...but the future of Valcure. As you have heard there are ELE (Extinction level events) being detected all around the globe. Though meny are quickly calmed and relived there are a few however that are currently growing at an unprecedented pace and soon it would be too late." saying this somberly as he dramatizes the large scale events like Elderion's spiritual end, and what ever was going on in Kadia. "as you can see the end will soon come...but will all of us have to face it? Mabye not....mabye if we discover enough to to something about it no one will have to die yet there are some that chose to kill rather then save and because of this....we have left them and actully everyone out of this." depicting that the project remain a secret even to the closest of allies. "And because of this you all might be living here for a while, something like.....4-5 months but then again you shouldn't seem surprised as this is what we all signed up for... To give our lives to research and to presue better technologies, we were never told to just stop" as the scientists stared with blank faces, hiding their regret within newfound responsibilities. As the fate of everything they knew could hang upon their research. They headed over to reaserch bay one
  9. AT THE FOOT OF TAEN'S MOUNTAIN RANGES IN SEARCH FOR THE HEAVEN'S ARMOR (S-CLASS ARTIFACT) "We going on a mountain We going on a mountain La la la la la Mountain, mountain la la la Hiking, hiking la la la Trekking, trekking la la la" The singing was awful, the trail was hard to traverse and the artifact in question was buried so deep in the mountains of Taen that Middy had no idea where to start. She had heard stories and fables, and she knew that most fables and myths had some form of truths mixed in them. But why would the mythical Heaven's armor be buried deep within Taen's mountains? Some say the knight hid it in this region, some say bandits took it, some even say it was cursed and had to be hidden from humanity. One thing is for sure though, that the blasted armor is hiding somewhere within this mountain. But that is why the Mistress brought Aslom the Black As Oracle with her today. The queer woman may talk in a strange language but no one can deny her ability to foresee the future- "Oh we going on a mountain Going up high to meet cotton candy clouds Up the winding mountain trails Shivering in cold until we reach the top La la la la la-" Once more Middy's thought were interrupted by the awful singing. With a scowl, she turned around to face the culprits. It was Khaki, Little Sans, Little Nats and Little Sammy, all holding hands and skipping in Middy's wake. She's supposed to be angry at them for being so irritating but seeing them enjoy their precious childhood, Middy could do nothing but but chuckle bitterly at their childish antics. Ignoring the foursome, she took point once more and lead the crew deeper into the mountain trail. @ourlachesism
  10. 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.
  11. 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.
  12. 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.” Arnau 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.
  13. 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?
  14. 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?)
  15. 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
  16. 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.
  17. I plan on putting up an interest check to both open up activity for Hyperion, and to work in conjunction with Simon who will be building a few new villages that will expand into cities. I've fleshed out a few ideas I thought would be interesting and allow some versatility. Thoughts, feedback, ideas and questions are super welcome! The Sovereign City of Hyperion: As the city matures and the districts flourish, it'll be time to expand beyond the walls. Because Hyperion was designed for a small population, and have taken on so many Refugees from Palgard and Ashville, the smaller villages will look to Hyperion as a capital city. I'm definitely going to open the Laconia district to more business hubs if people want them there, but also to get started on the Academy and the Mage Guild. The Garden City of Brehill: As one of the first villages to be built by the pixies, this eventual city will definitely be known for its gardens, agriculture and preservation of environment. It will certainly be one of the more eden-esque looking villages--I imagine a lot of hanging gardens, balconies, arboretums, and a concentration of farmers and traders doing business here. The Arcane City of Imradel: As the gods wage their cosmic war and choose their pawns, the magically gifted will see a surge. Having a safe place to study their skill and hone their talents, a congregation of the divine and arcane gifted will gravitate here, building up a reputation as the Arcane City. Lots of artifact creation will happen here. Vinosea, The City of Thieves: Crime is inevitable, and poor choices and poor circumstances of citizens will lead to degradation. But even in the slums, thieves strike out to make their living. Not all in Vinosea are poor, but it is home to the wicked, the cunning and the ambitious. I think there will be a lot of faction wars here as people compete to control the city (a small scale version of Alethea's civil war). More cloak and dagger plots, small political plots, thrills and chills. A place where people can let loose and cause trouble without much in the way of law to stop them. The Sentinel City of Athadas: I think this will become a military stronghold. A sort of, "You have to get through us first before you get to the Sovereign City" type deal. Because I am working on revamping the Imperial Army--the Aralim, the Enforcers will be the main military police force in Hyperion proper. This will allow me to house the military in a place that can protect the borders, and allow the Enforcers to...Enforce. This city will also probably be more politically focused, maybe have its own military academy. While I won't have anything as active as the Terrenus military, my goal is to use Athadas for bigger quests that would involve military presence.
  18. I definitely want this to become a hub thread when it's complete, as well as the Thean Consulate that will go with it. I wonder--should I write them together or keep them apart? Some of the main things that need to be worked on: Reviving dead zones in the water so businesses can go boating for seafood again Making the land arable again (working on flora and fauna) Documenting important species (creating a bestiary) -- Port Thea will be inspired by Greece (as most of my cities are, now that I think about it), so I'd definitely loved to hear plans or ideas you think should be implemented since there will be tons of user content involved.
  19. 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.
  20. 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.
  21. 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..."
  22. "The mind was a place of privacy, a place of secrets, and where great ideas come to be. But what if we could hack it?" The base was silent yet it was crowded, a meny around, walking quietly through the halls of concrete and metal. below around a mile underground lay a box and a prisoner test subject tied up next to it, it was occasional that testing of secret projects happened in this location (as its so secret im am liable to not give away any description of its location). this time however the test was neurological, to see if the test subject could be more then just influenced by phycic energy, but controlled, assimilated rehabilitated and the scientist had to make sure to impact that person permanently in someway. "Rotwell ,commander Holgan is arriving hes coming to check up on the project!" "Well then lets give this man a good show and tell then, not too much show though, we wouldn't want to take too much time." He said excitedly but quietly "Front and center" came in the Holgan quietly "why is there to be silence here? I wasn't informed about it" "Ohh not to worry, we were just informed yesterday anyways moving on theres the thing you came to see" pointing at the box as it began its testing phase. [Insert sci-fi sounds] as it came online. Nearly instantly the test subject began violently shaking and began screaming and yelling "Still just influencing the subject's mind but...its not actully controlling it, thats still a shame but were getting there, I mean attention to the screen" as he went to a computer on the side and pressed some keys that displayed the subject's brain and a energy signature attempting to break through the brain. "Yea the mechine attempts to 'drill' into the Victim's subjuct's mind iteslf" As the screens displayed that the signature wasnt getting all the way through the brain. Not yet.....
  23. 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.
  24. 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:
  25. 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.
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