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Found 218 results

  1. Over the past several months, I have been slowly working toward the completion of a concept that, I think, has finally reached its conceptual maturity. A while back, I introduced an Alternate-Earth version of 8-Knight to this forum. This was in an (alternate universe-based) attempt to make character-and-story creation easier, by reducing the development time required to create characters and their backstories. By creating a modular character-story, I could 'port' a character over (to different environments), which also reduces the difficulty of power-scaling, determining motive(s), and more. However, this initial attempt would require that everything (development inGeneral) be redone for every new environment/RP, which also scatters/fragments the work that was already started years ago, making things harder to keep track of. Thus, I have devised a new model - the Multiversal Initiative. Under this new model, RPs like this become distinct timelines (not universes), which can be more easily managed and power-scaled, allowing for better moderation and better story-telling. Any stories, characters, or other content created in relation to MU-0 (designated from here) on this forum will be accounted for as either the 7th timeline/story-line in the Story folder, or suggestions/additions to the main Universes (edits to the already-existing content). Your name will go on all content you create - no questions. Any stories and/or characters created through RP are bound to both the canon that precedes them and the rules of Valucre. In addition to this, you may create new events/stories collaboratively - as long as you aren't breaking the rules of Valucre. Any suggestions pertaining to already-existing canon/story-lines can't be done through RP unless it involves more than one user on this website (ie., if you need/want to use an OC or idea that belongs to someone else on this website). In that case, you'll need to coordinate with whoever you're working with, and have the RP out in a separate thread. You can then link it under this thread. This thread, however, is for people who are generally willing to help expand this Multiverse (or MU-0 more so). Once again, your username will be connected/associated with your work - credit must be given. For anyone who is interested in how this Multiverse structure was created, please click here. For information on why this universe isn't the 6th or 5th, please see this. Hopefully, this will improve upon what came before it. I hope to deprecate that quite soon...
  2. The home of Guin, a young adventurer living in Martial Town slums. A small middle floor studio apartment Guin has managed to repair or otherwise clean the run down apartment into a livable environment. Few in amenities it has a tub, an old mana impulse stove, a ice enchanted fridge and an old twin sized bed. For the occasional company she keeps a small table with three chairs in the center of the room. It is not heated, and while it has electricity it is far from reliable and frequently goes out. Guin enjoys being home, and can often be found winding down after an odd job or adventure. All in all it a simple home on the outskirts of Martial Town, a deeply dangerous area that rarely has visitors. Guin does not own this apartment, and instead rents it from a faceless multinational housing corporation - any defaulting on the rent means she is quickly evicted, for Martial Town has limited tenant protection laws. [OOC - This is a hub thread for my character Guin where I will roleplay her in between quests/jobs/adventures, it is open to visitors - if you'd like to interact with Guin at her home throw a knock on her door!]
  3. A warm breeze snaked through the trees, rustling the leaves. It tussled the curly, knotted mass of deep red hair spread across the ground. Its owner was in a similarly disheveled state, her pants and baggy shirt covered in a mix of blood and dirt. Next to her lay a dog nearly as big as she, his shaggy grey coat flecked with mud. He was whining, his nose occasionally nudging the woman's cheek in an attempt to wake her. She groaned and scrunched up her bruised face before opening her green and gold flecked eyes to look up at the tree canopy with confusion. She turned her head stiffly to regard the dog next to her with surprise, he let out a bark and wagged his tail. "What the hell happened?" She groaned and attempted to sit up. Shooting pain shot up her side and her head spun, she quickly lay back down with a bigger groan. The dog continued to whine and nudged her shoulder with his nose. She reached out an arm and gently stroked his head, the dog was familiar with her, but she couldn't remember ever having a dog....in fact, she couldn't remember anything prior to her waking up. She sighed and tried to push herself up to sitting once again, gritting her teeth she pushed through the pain shooting up her side and the world spinning and managed to sit. She closed her eyes a moment and hoped the spinning would stop, it was making her queasy. When she felt the earth still, she bravely opened one eye and closed it quickly to prevent the dog's wet lick from going into her eye. He was sitting too, wagging his tail and panting, he attempted to lick her again and she pushed him away. "Agh!" She cried, trying to fend off the dog while her side agonized her, "enough! enough!" He sat back and looked at her expectantly. "I don't suppose you know how we got here do you?" She asked, "A better question would be where are we?" He continued to wag his tail and regard her happily, he barked causing her to flinch from the splitting pain in her head it caused. "Not so loud!" She scolded, "My head feels like it is going to fall right off my body..." She looked down at her blood soaked clothes and put a hand tentatively to her scalp where she felt a burning pain. When she pulled it back there was a red smear on it from blood. "I've got to get all this cleaned out..." She ground out, attempting to use a nearby tree to pull her to standing. The dog began to whine and lay back down. "I'm not going to lay back down." She said through gritted teeth. The world spun again and she clung to the tree, her stomach finally losing its battle, she vomited. The dog looked at her knowingly and she could swear it looked a little smug, as if to say "I told you so." "Yeah, yeah yeah." She glared back at it, waiting for the world to stop spinning. When it did she took a tentative step forward, when the world didn't spin and her stomach didn't empty, she took another one and then another. The dog stood and followed her, occasionally looking at her quizzically. "I need to see if there are any clues as to who I am, who you are or even how we got here." She told him, "Be helpful and start looking too!" He sniffed around while she slowly scanned the ground around her. "Nothing but dirt!" She said in frustration, the movement loosening up her stiff limbs. The dog sat and barked, he looked at her expectantly once again. She approached him and he nosed the ground, she bent stiffly and lifted a necklace from the ground. She ran her thumb over the dirt encrusted engraving on the back. It read "Zafira." "Who is Zafira?" She asked, "Is that me?" The dog barked and wagged his tail. "I'm going to take that as a yes for now..." She searched the ground for any other clues, "Now I have to figure out what you are called..." The dog stood and pranced in a circle, whining. Zafira ignored him and continued to search, she found a strange looking stringed instrument in the bushes. It looked to be once ornately painted and carved, it looked battered and well used now. She plucked a few strings for amusement and her fingers flew across the strings, producing a haunting melody before one of the strings broke with a very ugly sounding "thwang." "Well....it appears I know how to play music." She said furrowing her brow, "But how can I remember how to play music if I cant remember the name of the darn song?" The dog barked and wagged his tail happily. "You don't happen to know where a stream would be do you?" She asked the dog, fully expecting him not to answer. He leapt up and loped off into the woods. Zafira shouted angrily after him and began to stiffly walk in the direction he ran off to. He doubled back and walked next to her. "If we are to be companions I should figure out your name..." She mused, "Perhaps I will just make one up." The dog growled. "Fine, I will try to figure it out..." She tried to think through the splitting headache, but it was like trying to hold sand, it kept slipping away, "Its no use, my memory is gone...is it -" She looked around, "Tree?" She could have sworn the dog raised an eyebrow at her. "You are right that is a stupid name, I would never name something that..." She looked around again, "Sky?" He ignored her and continued to lead her towards water. "What about Cat?" She joked, he growled at her again, "It was just a joke - jeez - Good thing there is no one around, they would probably think I'm crazy talking to a dog." The sound of running water caught her attention and she momentarily gave up on her quest to remember the dog's name, she wasnt even sure if the name on the locket was her name. But she would borrow it for now.
  4. Bull's got a new Hammer. Oh it's an awesome thing, he'd assure you. Not more then a sparse few days of having it in his possession and you couldn't count how many things he has smitten with it. Worse still, how many times he's threatened to SMITE someone with it, sometimes in a Norse accent for no apparent reason. Where it came from? Who knows, but ever since that time he was thrown through a dimensional rift and landed in Asgard---Meeting the great Thor himself. He's wanted one. That was a ways ago. Since returning to these realms, he hasn't quite recovered the entirety of his power (MP-Bull), and wouldn't fair nearly as well as he did against the Thunder god were he had to face that trial now. He will return to glory by walking the path set before him. Just as he found his NEW self during his imprisonment within the Pillar Realms, he will do so again, and this little project of completing his hammer for Maximum Whack-a-Fool Goodness was just the thing he needed. It took him a day to get here, he chose not to jump but rather trecked it out. Many climbs. Many elevations. A few falls, a couple of scuffles and he was staring at a vast, brilliant door which serves as the entrance to MINES OF SERN. So the information was legit, and it would be in this place that a sect of Mutant-Dark Elves, practitioners of Dark Magic, and perverted sciences. They had developed a new "Strain" of Mythril that was essential to his weapons progression. Only thing that stood in his way was that legend had it, that these "Elves" were tools. Bad businessmen and even WORSE as traders. Proteus Aspired for not having to use violence but sometimes, you have to shit what it was. Still, Wasn't anything wrong with giving things the old college try. The titan approached the door which had a large body of water at his rear. This caught Proteus' attention, briefly. It smelled--Odd. With his attention back at the door. As he was instructed by his source, he'd call out. "I am KING Proteus Rauz, i've come seeking to barter or purchase Mythril from you!...May I be granted Entrance!" There was a silence. Birds could be heard. Bugs of the sort as well. Quiet enough to hear a Rat Piss on cotton almost. Then before him, at the doors top. An eye opened and from it's center a beam of light which constructed a construct. The construct was a tall individual, lithe, every bit of 6'4" in height, a male, but his features were slightly twisted. Around his eyes were blackened as were the tips of his pointed ears. Slender fingers had claws at their tips. "We've heard of you King.....All the more reason why we will MOST CERTAINLY NOT be allowing you here. BRUTE!" Bull kissed his teeth some, and drew a heavy breath and at it's release interjected, "Times have changed...I, have changed. I assure you I am not here with ill intent.." And Bull was cut off "And we do not care! Now remove your FILTH from our domain, lest you be dealt with!! You've NOTHING of interest to us!" Insults. Proteus' arms crossed and his index finger tapped bicep furiously. He was struggling to keep his composure in the face of a total tool. He firmly rhetorted. "2-Million Gold. For a kings share of your new Mythril.".......He brandished a large travel bag, indeed filled with the quantified equal of 2 million gold in the form of massive bricks. There was that silence again. Those birds. Those bugs.. That cotton pissing rat again. The construct seemed to had been mulling it over. See Elves were alot like common man. They were creatures of habit, they could be swayed. They were businessmen and at the end of the day money talked. But the problem?...Again, they were like common man. They believed themselves to be cunning. They were trifling. Greedy. Uncaring. Beneath the water, a monster had been given incentive. It's massive tentacles spreading and churning beneath the water, which would have rippled and surged as it approached, and out of the water one of these LARGE appendages shot out of the water at pace and COILED around the Titans' waist, who was honestly--surprised! All that the king could see was the constructs twisted grin, "WE WILL TAKE YOUR GOLD, AND YOUR LIFE!....."
  5. Aleksei

    Good Ol' Days

    What a disgusting, revolting, colorful display. There it was, just sitting peacefully in the southwestern part of Cosanastre (the very first city founded, just for your information), glittering like a well polished crystal and singing it's siren's song: the Cathedral. Ah yes, today the bells tolled, beckoning different sorts of worshippers to its freely dusted halls and oiled pews. Today these worshippers find themselves praying to the gods of green and gold; the reverent prayers whispering through the the beating heart of the Cathedral. Serge bunting decorated the outside of the Cathedral turned gambling hall, enticing anyone and everyone to come inside and enjoy the raucous going on. Matching the exuberant decorations, guests were dressed in peacock colors; several of them, all on one body. The women wore reds, purples and greens. There were checks, stripes, brocades, appliques, and lush embroidery. The men matched the women, if anything, they were far more decorated than their counterparts. Clearly they are all extremely excited for The King’s Feast, an event that has recently been reinstated by the ever illustrious, gracious Ocelot Royce, the High Mason and ruler of Alterion. Inside, trestle table after trestle table bowed underneath the sheer weight of food stuffs. There was a roast boar stuffed with rabbits that were stuffed with partridges - sans trees, unfortunately. Pies of every type covered the white tablecloths. The free-flowing wine, ale, beer, and metheglin added to the already high spirits of the guests. One one table was a large white swan, baked and dressed and then reassembled so that it looked almost alive, every feather repositioned perfectly. It didn’t stick out though, because in the most centered table full of all sorts of seafaring creatures is a ginormous tank with a mermaid swimming inside. A Nymerian, to be more specific. Her dark hair was braided with beads and shells and crystals, akin to the black-blue sky sparkling with polished stars; her tail looked like the expanse of a early morning sky with oranges, reds, blues melting together; from waist up she wore nothing, representing the normal Nymerian wear, showing the lace-like tattoo beneath her breasts. The tattoo on her right arm shimmered with her panic, causing the shapes to appear as if they were moving with each swish of her tail as she swam from one end of the tank to the other. She was one of the many prizes offered for the day's events, and to win her you must be betting on either a group, individual, or a monster itself. All those betting will be put into a drawing to receive the Nymerian, no matter their losses or winnings. In the center of the grouping of tables was an open area. Here jesters danced and sang, people conversed, acrobats cavorted; the noise was tremendous, filling the Cathedral to the brim. And outside is absolutely no better! Anyone who can’t fit inside, found themselves a seat just about anywhere that was safe, mostly the rooftops and a few even made their homes in alleyways (out of harm's way of course). Because these sorts of events always bring out everyone's competitive streak, various household games like poker, go-fish, and whatever else kind of games gamblers contrive in the moment, are scattered around for anyone to join in. The heavier hitters were at their chosen tables with handhelds scattered around them; faces of the competitors and the monsters they're working against flicker across illuminated screens. All are welcome to place bets on either the monster hunters or the monsters, just to add some fun into the whole ordeal. Disgusting, colorful display of celebration and the day has only begun. How to bet: Easy! Everyone put your bets down in your posts and I'll keep track of everything. Anything that has monetary value (weapons, armor, jewelry, monsters of your own, etc.) you can use to bet, so have fun with this! Also reasonable, pleaasse. Once there is a list of items gathered from all people betting, I'll use a randomizer to select who gets what item to make it all fair. So Group A is for Participant AB but group B is against them and are for the monsters; Participant AB wins, so group Bs bets are given to Group A. Games: I don't care if you guys want to play a drunk, drug induced game of hide and seek, have fun! I will be introducing a version of Truth or Dare but with drinking, using a system where I think of a number 1-6, the participants pick a number, and the loser has to drink and then pick Truth or Dare. The dare obviously can't be hella disruptive but I want people to have fun with this and put their characters in awkward positions.
  6. Yral, a city built like a small island itself within the island, was home to a dying leader and an elder of power. The land knew war was coming and the figures behind the scenes decided to plan something dark for the land. Silent and cloaked, a woman walked the cobblestone streets, magi scathing the streets as she walked. Eyeing the citizens, she could see their downfall. The temple of Solstice had been destroyed. As her orb of an eye saw some of the citizens sitting there, eating some ore like substance she tilted her head. How did it get there? Lyonesse had been doing everything to not end up like Athentha. Not become a dark place that would change the people into creatures. The girl wondered if the stories her father told her were true. The nights he abused her, he told her that she was a legend made to serve a higher power, to bring forth a new era. Shaking her head, the black and teal curls bouncing on to her shoulders. Lyonesse was in danger. The girl knew it as did Lyon. As she walked and marred the streets with her magi, she wondered if he was here too. Someone that knew of the forbidden ore. The ore she could use to craft. The hero of Lyonesse would be here too. It would be nice to see him again and rip out his eye. Teach him a lesson. Stopping then, the girl muttered. Yral was a maze to her and anyone who lived here on a day to day basis. She sighed. Athentha and the Umbral Year were tied together and as she looked down at the black rose thorn crown she didn't know the path to walk. However, the people here looked at her. Their whispers caught her attention as they spoke of Lyon's death. This thought caught up in her throat. The leader couldn't be dead. Rheumial and Sayndar watched over him like a hawk. How did they allow their beloved leader to die? She blinked as whispers spoke more of someone else in the palace. Someone who looked like Lyon. It was time to investigate. As she walked towards the castle that housed the elder and Lyon, she wondered if Sayndar was even still alive. Those rumors spoke of him also falling to the ore substance. She didn't like the sound of this. Rain fell as she hurried among the cobblestone path. You could hear the slamming of hammer and brick in the distance, the tower being built of ore and brick. Something was wrong here. Something was terrible. She didn't like the feeling she got. It was here she was pushed to the ground. Two elven woman wearing armor of Lyonesse stood before her. Sent out by the leader of Lyonesse themselves. Body guards almost. The girl peered at them as they smirked a malicious smile. A sword pointed at her neck, she grabbed it as the black blood spilt against the ground. Tossing the blade aside, she wasn't prepared for the fist of the other elf to hit her jaw. Rubbing it she tilted her head. The first elf showing a paper for her arrest. Seeing she burnt Yral to the ground the first time she was here. And they didn't want a repeat of the incident. However the girl wouldn't go so quietly. She stood and delivered a blow to the first elf's torso. She slid back as the girl with one eye continued her attack. She then didn't see the other one come behind her and grabbed her arms restraining her then. Shackling her arms together, they began to usher her to the prison to be interrogated.
  7. The winds blew through the large oak trees outside of the small apartment window, the leaves slowly fell to the ground as the sun rose from the horizon slowly. It's rays basking a light across the city skyline. The baby blue curtains lined the window blocking most of the rays of the sun from creeping their way into the room onto the black blob lying on the bed. One single strand of light made its way through onto the "blobs" face. The blob was a male named Victor Blank, he had the eyes of a killer sometimes while other times he could have the gentlest eyes anyone had ever seen. Followed by his eyes his hair was the other outstanding thing about him, it a deep purple color all throughout. Of course, it was dyed. He groaned as his eyes met with the bright light which wasn't helping him much with waking up from his slumber. "Ugh." he muttered pulling himself up from the bed and scratching the back of his head to notice what time it was. "Shit! I'm late oh no no no no no no." he threw the blanket off him seeing his alarm didn't go off and it was around noonish. He proceeded to throw on clothes his tie half on and half off as he darted through the door trying to make himself look presentable almost tripping over his cat Nickilo. Before anything else could happen to ruin his day he was out of the apartment building onto the sidewalk making his way down the street to a small cafe bumping into people on the way. "Sorry! Excuse me! Pardon!" he called out running across the street almost being hit by a taxi driver. The bell of the cafe rung as the customers looked at him his appearance looking terrible and messy. He ran behind the counter into the back throwing on an apron and fixing the tie and his vest putting a smile on his face. God this day couldn't have started off in a way better way.
  8. Cosanastre, the Holy City--Riva's pride and joy. It has stood for a thousand years, seen the rise and fall of Kings. Today it just may see something remarkable. The streets had been cleared, notices had been posted, every creature on the Alterian continent had been collected, and the Daius R&D lab raided for some new ones. At long last the time arrived to start the Feast. Gamblers, seekers of fortune, Regents and nobility alike, took refuge in the Cathedral overlooking the massive sector. The Lessers and those souls not fortunate enough to compete in the hunt or the games watched from crystal screens across the nation. The streets of sector 0 were empty, as were the rooftops. The hunters were afforded full scope of the city in their battle against the beasts. Each Hunter was individually greeted by a representative of the High Mason and afforded a prayer, blessing and any last requests they may have before the bloodshed began. As dawn began to fall over the city, streetlamps and spotlights flared to life—birthing a city of lights that shined brighter in the dawn of the morning than the stars against the midnight sky. Members of the legendary Hunters association stalked the city prepared to keep the peace, if necessary, while the Poor Sons and Justices guarded the elite and more fiscally minded individuals. A bare speck on the vast backdrop of the blood red sky moved atop the cathedral. The High Mason, garbed in ceremonial robes of ebon and crimson raised his arms towards the heavens and the Crystal’s light filled the city, projecting not only his voice—but an image of its chosen vessel above the city for all of Cosanastre to see. “My children,” Ocelot’s voice intoned. “It is a most auspicious day, for today we celebrate the King’s Feast! That fateful day when our Savior Riva rose up and liberated Alterion from the clutches of a tyrannical despot. Today we Feast and today we hunt in honor, not only of her bravery and sacrifice, but those of her followers and most especially of those innocent viciously murdered by the mad Winter King. This is a day where we remember the dead. We wish them well in the afterlife, for we know they are safeguarded by the light of the Crystal—that eternal beacon in the vast darkness of Xaengri-La. This is a day where we give thanks. We acknowledge the blessings poured upon by the Crystal and we Feast to remember the first supper celebrated by the Masonress and her burgeoning church. This is a day where we celebrate joy. The joy of living, the thrill of the hunt. The promise of gifts, prizes and the merriment of food, drink and togetherness. This is a historic day, my children. Today you may die, and the Crystal will guard you through that bleak night. Today you will struggle, you will toil against beast, monster, Demon and machine. But, above all else, today you will meet your destiny. You will face the darkness and know that the light of the Crystal shines upon you. May the light of the Crystal always find you...and let the King’s Feast begin.” On cue, carriages and cages opened across the city, flooding the streets with a variety of aberrations and monstrosities. The various waiting areas where the hunters had been corralled opened up, providing them access to the now wild Sector. The King’s Feast has officially begun. Original Art Credit OOC Notes RP SPECS Type | adventure; horror; science fantasy Classification | collaborative; canon event Combat | PvE—NPC Dice System; PvP—Disallowed Dramatis Personae Status Type | Open Activity | Active; 1 post a day minimum Limit | 24 hrs; subject to change pending # of players* GM | paradigm; subject to change pending conversations SYNOPSIS The King's Feast has officially begun. This thread represents the Northern section of Sector 0. Remember that the Sector's of Cosanastre are so massive that they are Mega-Cities unto themselves and walled off from one another. Posting may now begin. Happy Hunting. ...there's blood on the horizon. layout credit | paradigm
  9. The missive distributed had catalyzed a portent that, while seemingly no different than several in Terrenus’ past, had come at a moment tailored to the fancies and deep needs of those that sought a foundation worthy enough to support them. Boldly distributed to the masses, this lack of discrimination provided the perfect veil to cover the meeting that would be held within the embrace of the Patian industrial sector on this day. Whoever managed to decipher the location of this meeting was worthy of attention, though this attention could easily become warped and unforgiving. The burgeoning arm of industry that the Outsider had managed to conjure provided ripe opportunity for advancement but an even greater opportunity for those who preyed on the greed that it freely coaxed. Such greed was enough to convince one of the entrepreneurs to host an ‘advancement meeting’ supported by the promise of ephemeral exclusivity for the span of two weeks from a branch of their choice. So this is where the three pronged weapon given the symbolic name of ‘The Abaddon Triumvirate’ decided to conduct this meeting for the time being. The promise of the attendance of at least one of the triumvirs should have been enough to establish the importance of this gathering. Would it be the charismatic black knight or the artistic sculptor that would make themselves visible immediately? Nay. The third appendage of this triumvirate would be the first to grace the attendees with its presence. The current manager of this meeting oozed into the limelight, an almost gelatinous black liquid slowly coalescing at the head of a long table. The liquid pooled for a few seconds on the floor before elevating itself to a level that was several feet high. The room was simplistic in nature and nothing like the haven that Ker had established for them. Some of the attendees were likely to be fledglings within this organization so they would need to earn the honor of entering into their home which would only be bestowed should they prove how much commitment they had to the ideals of this organization. The conference room that would host this meeting, while significantly large with a seating area and bar, was mundane enough to avoid tickling those who would simply wish to leech off of the ideals and efforts of others here. Those who were here needed to be fully committed or at least willing to execute fruitful actions that would edify and bring them closer to their goal. Crimson spheres slowly emerged from the mass of liquid to observe whoever was already present within the room. Time would be given for annoying pleasantries and fellowship as the meeting would not commence for another hour. Though this marketing campaign that Ker had orchestrated should attract potential members with enough intelligence to decipher the location of this meeting, Agony was far more concerned with making sure the ones who would operate under his leadership were worth his time. The rigor of what they had to accomplish to even be present in this meeting would be sufficient to weed out the worthless and those of ill intent. The others who had already established themselves within the group would be presented with an opportunity to finally meet other members of this budding organization. The days of sparse operations and communication have been discontinued. It was a bittersweet development in the eyes of Agony who abhorred communicating with most but was now realigned into a role that would inevitably mean more social interaction and much more complexity. Even worse now was the temporary absence of Ker and Rodan, leaving him the ‘honor’ of the open address. Undulating black would remain immobile at the head of the table with the occasional shift of those crimson orbs. Each individual orb would move of its own accord, sliding across the black liquid-like mass that did not decide to take any form whatsoever just yet. The amorphous triumvir was infamous for behaving outside of what some would consider the norm. The few that have managed to survive encounters with him were still deprived of the stability that came with having a face to associate with the name. With his left eye focusing on the door behind him and his right eye staring across the long table of this meeting area, he would wait for everyone to establish their position before having to endure what would come next.
  10. Zenith Rue, SubHub of Absolon, Athentha 1678AY, 3 April Thursday, 12:00A.M Yazu sat in the carriage as it rode to Absolon. He placed his hands in his lap as he shook his head once more. He didn't understand the decisions made by all those involved. Two elders were dead by the hands of the princess. And he knew that even though she had decided to come back to the title, that it wasn't the case. The elders wouldn't just let some crazed beast take the land. At least two of them didn't and now they died. Now, the matter at hand. The girl herself. Yazu figured that she decided it was time to not be pushed around anymore. And though he admired her changing her tune, it felt like someone made her choose. Not the elders as he wanted to try and work with the girl unlike the other elders. Since Athentha was both their home, he wanted legitimate peace among it. Placing his hand against his temple, as he knew that Miach had created her for one purpose. He hoped to God it was not what he was thinking. And he had heard the downfall with the shaman. That he was lost and Yazu hoped that wouldn't happen. In all truth he was a key to helping the girl. The knights were assembling at the capital and there they would form some plan. However, he also knew the downfall of Sol-Morwenna with the twin Esben children. Yazu knew this was a disaster. As the carriage continued down the road, the elder wondered what would happen now. Who would come out of this unscathed? Who would win? Yazu had no idea what would happen. The elder sighed. It was time to get serious about this. It was time to either fight or die.
  11. Please State when your Character Enters and Exits the Pub The Khovfe Pub RP Info Current Menu: Drinks Skeletal Ale w/ A Shot of Khovfe - A Pitcher of Ale with a Shot of something Drasx calls Khovfe Amalian Pale Ale Food Drasx Mystery Pie - A Meat Pie made from Meat Services A Stay at the Inn. Potions Pleasure Potion - Brings about a Euphoric Feeling (Non-addictive, but one can become reliant) Canon
  12. Artist: ned-rogers Note: open to members of the military only Purpose Inspired by Daniel Sage's Base #33, the purpose of this military base is to serve as a central meeting hub for members of the military that want to interact with other soldiers outside of missions. Examples of the kind of activity that make the best use of this hub are: Rest / idle time going into, or coming out of, an active mission Practicing skills and maneuvers relevant to your unit Making use of specialized tournament and training fields for those wishing to spar, practice combat, work in teams, and so on. Practicing coursework in the library or with members from other departments to shift from one branch of service to another or to collaborate on mission intelligence Layout Bali's Bistro: A 10 mile march away from the base is Bali's Bistro. If the food in the mess hall is too bland or not alcoholic enough, visit Bali's Bistro for food whose "not free" price tag reflects an uptick in quality and alcohol. Barracks: Where the soldiers go to sleep! Communications Depot: Where soldiers can send and receive communications in any media, ranging from paper letters to holo-array projections, and can range from plaintext public communications to encrypted private and secret communications - basically players can send messages to one another through here Library: Since the advent of the Crook and its connections to TSM, this base offers public access terminals to TSM stored data. A smaller number of military terminals can be used for encrypted communications and access to confidential data. Mess hall: An attached edifice where a soldier can go to get their three square meals a day and chat it up with other soldiers. Food served only at 8AM, at 12PM, and at 4PM. Potemkin village: A small dummy village has been setup nearby for saboteurs to destroy and engineers to rebuild. Training fields: Specialized rings and fields for those wishing to spar or practice combat in simulated environments, both one on one and in small teams. Security It's a military base. Not interested in making this a combat zone but yeah, it's got defenses
  13. Eliza took a drag of her electronic cigarette and blew the smoke out in the shape of rings. She followed the sunset from a rooftop, legs dangling from the edge. A scaly hand followed the shape of her left horn, while she was lost in thought. It was almost time. For a moment longer, everything was bathed in a delicate, pink light, and for a few heartbeats it seemed as though her red skin was glowing. Then the last beams of sunlight disappeared in the horizon. She took one last drag. The smoke hung in the air; that and a light smell of strawberries was the only sign that she had been there. She grabbed a hold of the edge and slid down the wall of the house. Her long nails, almost claws, grabbed a ledge. She hung there for a moment longer before making the jump all the way down. She crunched down a bit, but kept her balance when her feet hit the ground. She corrected the binoculars that hung from a string around her neck and walked down the narrow street. The almost six feet tall woman ignored the looks she received, the whispers she heard from the door frames and alleys as she passed. She had grown so accustomed to being an outsider that it barely bothered her anymore. Four, five, six... She counted the number of alleys she passed, then suddenly turned down the seventh, leading to a larger street. She looked left, then right, momentarily disoriented. She unzipped her waist bag and found a small, round object that had the appearance of an old compass. However, when she pressed a button in the back of it, it lit up. She whispered the name of a tavern. With a little beep, the device's color turned red. The needle pointed east, and she followed the directions with a sigh of relief. She couldn't be late - the gang-leader had been clear about as much.
  14. "Hello there! my name is Trevor Wisegem! Welcome to my school for the young, old, large, and small! Here you can learn how to channel your inner magic into something amazing! Not only will you learn to use magic, you'll also learn to fight! Because even mages should know how to fight without magic. Now, since I don't exactly have a whole lot of funds for this school, I can only accept about five students at the moment. But never the less! You will enjoy your time here. I was taught once by a great mage, who had a very large school, and I want to carry on his tradition. So! What do you say? Come on in! I mean come on, who doesn't want to summon a freaking fireball, or move objects with their mind?" He gestured to the building behind him, which looked to be liked a dojo, but more suitable for magic explosions and such. The building had plenty of beautiful plants and scenery around, which made anyone who looked at it feel calm.
  15. Sakura Onsen Sento The Sakura Sento was a beautifully built building of bamboo and stone, a building kept to the ancient look of those others that had come before it. Outside was a beautifully marbled jade path that led to the massive sliding doors that opened up to a jade marbled counter where two women of asian descent sat waiting to greet their customers. The inside walls were decorated soft pinks of the sakura tree, and dark maghoney browns. Vases of cherry blossoms and lilies decorated small tables that were placed throughout the many halls that led to each individual bathrooms. Pull strings in each room would be used to order the salts and flowers that would soak in the hot onsen waters, while the attendants laid out the finest of bathrobes and towels for each guest. The layout and decor was of the best taste, even little gold could be spotted in the very fine lines of the flowers themselves on the walls. Eternity had finally found something she wanted to give to everyone, and it was the seduction of the hot springs mixed with the temptations of the salts and flower petals with oils. There would be attendants for each customer’s taste, men and women who aimed to please those who would so graciously give up their coin for such luxuries. The men and women would dress in black and soft pink robes, their hair would be neatly braided or up in buns. Each would be pleasing to the eye, many of them having been taught how to maintain their appearance when working for Lady Sithis. It was finally opening day of the grand hot spring bath house, the attendants were ready for what would be brought throughout the day. Customers of every status would begin to pour in through the doors, each paying for their bath room. The rooms would range from many sizes depending on what would be paid up front, and others of lower born would share a community bath at a more affordable rate. While the attendants of the bath house ran back and forth prepping each room to the specifications of each customer, life in the Sakura came to life.
  16. This is the Mil Dot Lunaris: a firearm store that the kind of items that Americans could only dream of, and ammunition types most people don't even think are possible. Outside, there is a switchback staircase in the front leading up to the front covered porch, which continues to the left and right sides beyond the trees. Wooden tables and chairs provide places for people to sit and eat. The front wall is mostly wood-framed windows, surrounded by profiled trim and cedar shakes. Suspended rope walkways also connect to the porch at different places.The windows themselves are triple-pane ballistic polycarbonate, three inches combined, with argon pockets. There is a ramp to a freight elevator on the loading dock for people who can't or won't ascend the stairs, as well as deliveries. A large sign stands on the front roof, with the Mil Dot logo (and name) laid in very white oak with dark ebony. The inside has two areas; the public area, and the private area. The public area takes up 70% of the volume and reaches through the supports all the way up to the underside of the roof decking. The back roof has the same windows as the front wall, and the same density. During most days, the only light needed is in the cases. All of the walls have cedar paneling, all of the lights are warm white LEDs connected to a direct current system, and rock maple covers the floor of the store portion. The eatery is separated only by the line where the maple flooring meets the yellow cedar. The same wooden furniture sits in this area that sits outside, and a wall from floor to ceiling separates the public and private sections. The freight elevator opens up from the "private" area on this wall in a way that does not allow the public free access. Restrooms flank the elevator shaft. The cases that line the back and left sides are heavy, with teak-covered metal frames holding heavy ballistic polycarbonate panes. Rifle racks and heavy cabinets sit behind them, with register terminals between banks of cases. Sharp-eyed observers may even notice the ample tinted camera domes, the Browning M2 and Mark 19 emplacements and firing slots up on the walls and roof sections. The private area is just for people who work here, which includes the kitchen, storage areas, office, utility spaces, and where Thurgood and Aveline live. The only coatings applied to any of the wooden surfaces, inside or out, are clear varnishes and resins, all designed to show the wood's natural beauty. Overall the structure is actually stronger than the trees supporting it. Inside the non-window walls is not just insulation and wiring, but heavy ballistic fiberglass and polycarbonate panels that combined can stop a .50 BMG full-metal jacket round. There is a full inside-outside water deluge system and chemical foam nozzles for fire supression (as well as flame-retardant varnishes and resins), large-scale greensand and DE filters and UV disenfection for water with two cisterns in the "private" area of the roof underside. A 10,000-gallon septic system with integrated grease trap remove waste from drainwater before returning it to the jungle. 80 individual 100-watt solar panels stick above the canopy to charge forklift cells in the utility area (that has ventilation to prevent hydrogen buildup). The forklift cells then power everything else either directly, or through a three-phase pure sine inverter. The Mil Dot accepts lots of different currencies, but the most prominent is this metal exchange: 1 oz of Tin = .25 USD 1 oz of Copper = 2 USD 1 oz of Silver = 10 USD 1 oz of Gold = 50 USD 1 oz of Platinum = 100 USD 1 oz of Rhodium = 500 USD. These do not reflect prices in the real OOC world. Now with Out Of Cartridges (OOC) thread!
  17. Rebellious Rose (Inn) Another bar type of establishment that also provides as an Inn for any weary travelers. Matching much of the towns design as a medieval establishment, the inn is yet another establishment with good food, great drink, and a lively atmosphere. There are 20 rooms in the upstairs, each fit with a bathroom with a bathtub/shower, a television, and a mini bar. There is a telephone to call for room service is needed, which is considered within the cost of room rental. The inn was previously managed by the Captain/Knight of the guard, Lawrence, but has recently been bought over by Kyle 'Angel' Sander, the last of the Pegasi. Unlike in the Tavern of Legend, the staff here work tirelessly to clean up the messes of their patrons, sometimes simple things like shattered plates, but at others entire holes in the walls or craters in the ground. The center of excitement and pleasure is the pub, where several velvety chairs surround brown wood tables. The lighting is romantic, and meditation music is constantly played through a disk. The Rebellious Rose is a great base for adventurers to spend their nights at when out questing in the morning. The Inn has two unique features, namely a gambling den manned by a retired bounty hunter, Connor Fortesque, and a sparring room. If adventurers wish to spar, they can enter the room as they wish. The walls are enchanted with Dark Energy, causing one's soul to be extracted from their body upon entry and returned upon leaving. This allows sparring combatants to incur no injuries, except maybe to the mind. The staff are still experimenting with new ways to make soul combat safer for patrons. Staff Kyle "Angel" Sander - Owner @Crossbone Edric Carter - Manager @CrimsonAurora Rachel Azraelian - Sparring Room Supervisor @Alternative Connor Fortesque - Gambling Room Supervisor @Sapphire Blue Alyssa Cooper - Bartender @Alyssa Coops
  18. There was a forgotten time within Bairville, where a beautiful performance was once held. A time when a desert flower opened her heart through music and dance, blossoming pedals of joyous freedom and mythical talent. Gold streamed from the hypnotic bends of her caramel fingers, rhythm surreally rolled from a body possessed by the ocean. Her rolling hips were waves, slithering and gliding with marvelous grandeur, and the bending arch of her back cascaded her tresses like falls of great water. In this forgotten moment where mystical dreams manifested into reality before a mesmerized audience, this nameless flower was permeated in ecstasy. She crossed the ties of the mundane and extraordinary. broke the barriers between heaven and earth. And as the melody embraced and made love to her soul, she felt the true purity of freedom through dance. But as with the fate of all purity, wickedness cast its chains and shattered the music. It ensnared her dance and purloined her freedom. The flower was shut away, into darkness. With time, the precious existence was forgotten. The sun of the Velhatein Desert settled behind ascending mounds of drought laden earth. Its licentious fingers extended across the sky and made the clouds blush. Beyond and below the vaporous display, there was naught but shadows thickening into black. The ebony shrouded the shapes of the landscape, cursing the daylight colors into ambiguous contours that broke the horizon like broken backs of fallen soldiers. Truly they were broken skeletons of prehistoric creatures. Within this aphotic landscape, the twinkle of a lone campfire dared to take a stand. Sitting within its rebellious orbs of amber, was the forgotten desert flower. Reflection of the embers licked up her endless raven streaks, shimmering off the silk textures whilst teasing her desert toned skin with whimsical light. Rusted chains rattled from her bound minuscule wrists, slithering to the rims of her ankles. Her face was down, forehead nestled into the curve of her folded knees, and through that curtain of locks, piercing blue eyes stared aimlessly. Her nude lips were agape and breathed soundlessly, her breasts heaved and compressed into the cushion of her thighs, and beneath its cavity, a heart pumped. Yet her eyes, the lack of luster and vibrancy, revealed nothing but death. Three men heavily clothed in Saharan attire also rested around the flames, their dirty hands breaking off pieces of stale bread and shoving it into their mouths. They were quiet, most of their faces covered in scarves with slits of food and sight. Their eyes were cold and irritated, burdened by lights wrinkles suggesting their middle age and chaffed from desert winds. “This is the last of our provisions, we will not be able to stay in the mountain for long,” said one of them as he finished his bread his voice as gruff and scratched as his fingers. “We are also low on gold, how much longer before our contact returns with word of the rebellion?” “It was supposed to be three days ago, something must have happened.” A silence fell over the men again, the diminutive rattling of chains suggesting the imprisoned woman had moved. “The king only has another week before we punish his lack of compliance. It's been two weeks now, and we’ve had her for a month now." “He’s being a stubborn old fool, he will respond. We just have to wait.” “We have to find a way to make a coin if we are to survive another week. If we steal too much, it will draw unnecessary attention from law enforcers.” “Perhaps there is another way,” one of the men turned slowly towards the woman, eyeing her for a long moment. “The people of Genesaris are unlikely to recognize her. Perhaps we can use her to our advantage…” The chains rattled again, the forgotten woman lifted her head. Deep hues shifted to gaze at the men through descending bangs, a spark of life twinkling distantly within her once dead sea. When dawn broke over the world the following morning, flyers floated around the Yum Janus tavern near the outskirts of Joran City. They found their ways into people’s things, under their bags and pillows, and even tucked within their pockets. Upon the parchment were words of golden ink, cursive with living streams of light within the letters. Come witness the spectacle of a woman enchanted by a grace and beauty you have never seen. Witness the rare advent of people from the Velhaltein Desert. Her mesmerizing movements will seduce your dreams to reality. She will purloin the tribulations that haunt your mind for a single night. Come, and be blessed at midnight, by The Dance of the Desert Flower. The word spread rapidly. Mere mystery of how the parchment found its way into the most protected of spots allured people to the tavern. It was in the rear of the edifice, a circle of torches scattered through the empty plain. Their glows shed delicate light upon what appeared to be an unremarkable platform of an reflective ebony mineral. The full moon was out, its virgin glows eerily shimmering in streaks across the silvery sheen, intermingling with the flashing quips of the reflected flames.
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