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Found 7 results

  1. Moth

    Winds of change.

    “This is your first venture alone, little one.” The deep, calm baritone of her father’s voice echoed in the empty meeting hall. For once, she was thankful the diplomats and politicians had been shuffled out. It was rare she had time alone with him, and before such an exciting—and frightening prospect before her she was grateful she was granted the opportunity. “Yes it will be. Was there anything else you need to tell me? There wasn’t a change in plans was there?” The man chuckled at the question, shaking his head gently at her polite tone and professional questions. He lifted himself from his throne of gold and sparkling rubies, stepping down the short stairs that separated them. She took her duties seriously, and that was expected of her and he always praised her for that. But for right now, the Warlord wanted nothing more than to simply embrace his only child. So, he did. Well-muscled arms reached out only to scoop the lithe girl in his strong embrace. Initially, her muscles tensed in surprise. She knew he loved him, but there was little physical affection between them. Soon, the embrace was returned and she squeezed the man tightly in return. They remained this way, only for a few seconds tbefore he released his hold. “You will come home to me and hopefully with new ways for us and our people to prosper. You have not failed us yet.” His words of comfort came with a light pat to her back and a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Your guide is waiting. Do not disappoint me little one, or do not come home. “ Great. No pressure. She was still unsure how she felt about the man charged with her care. A Yokai? She was fairly certain that was the word she had been looking for. Large, bat ears sat upon his ears to match the large leathery wings that sprouted from his back. He looked close to mortal, but those bestial features made it obvious that they were not. She didn't know much about him, he had shown up at their gates many years ago. His kind was new to their lands, but his friendly demeanor and quick wit quickly one their court and her father over. Not to say that the man wasn't intelligent, he had many stories of places had been, but there was always one he spoke of the most. Taurus. Never first hand accounts, always stories passed from companion to companion. He knew enough to get her there, she had an idea of those she need to speak too and he even was willing to foot the bill himself. Her father would of course compensate him. Their lands were overflowing with precious metals and gems, many of which they used for the alchemist creations that made the oasis famous. He said he would be cold, but she hadn't been prepared for how cold it would be. When she stepped from the gate from their home to this new land, she was hit with a chilling rush. Her hands reached to cross over her chest and clutch at her arms in surprise. The silks and gauze that draped her figure were no match for these chilly winds. "I told you to dress warm." He chided as the gate snapped shut at their backs. A frown set upon her face, her head whipping around to stare at the tan man and his teasing smile. "I did dress warm, Lukas. How do people live here, this is awful." Lukas laughed at her complaints, the girl would be fine but she certainly would not be comfortable. "Once we get to the city, we can get you warmer. I am not sure any place here will be hot enough for your liking though, Madame Noya. " Her nose wrinkled at the title, "Noya. Madame makes me sound so... old. " "-- Then how about Princess, that is likely more accurate isn't it?" Her eyes rolled at the Bat demon, who chuffed softly at her dismay. " We'll go with Miss Noya then. Before we leave, your father asked me to give you something." Lukas stepped closer to the girl as he pulled a small satchel from his pocket from which he pulled a wide, golden bangle. "I've been told that you take great pride in the way you look. So I feel I must apologize for its effects. However, your father insists. " She took the bangle tenderly, taking a moment to inspect the item. The well polished, golden surface held no markings and was broken only by the few large ruby settings it had. She raised an eyebrow in confusion, effects? It wasn't until she peeked along the inside of the bangle did she notice the inscriptions. Old, very, very old. She took her time quietly attempting to decipher them, and Lukas allowed her the time to do it. "Illusion?" "You'll see, please put it on so we may continue. " She pulled her gaze over to the man before finally slipping the bangle over her wrist. Now she understood what he meant. Her skin paled to a soft blue, traditional tattoos twisting over her skin where there have never been any. Dark, shifting hair now snow white and the heavy smell of ozone lingering in her presence. Her clothing changed, but only in color. The rich yellows and oranges she wore now softening to gentle blues and grays of the air district. Fascinating. "He's paranoid, that old man of mine." "He is, however we have no time to dawdle. We are already behind, so please, follow me. " The thick, leathery wings on his back flapped and the man took a short, running start before he took off. She was not long behind him, she took a small run and then jumped knowing the winds would catch her fall. Even with the added weight of her documents, the winds held her aloft as they always did. To Taurus and to hopefully a peaceful welcome.
  2. Two men walked into a somewhat upscale bar in Brooklyn, New York. One of them had thought he was seeking audience with a friend. Contacting someone that he could trust in the event that he to come back here, and needed anything. For the most part that was true, but the other had developed an Agenda, and circumstances since that promise was spoken had changed drastically. Man who promised the other, was a far cry from himself, and even further removed from previously stated obligations and directives. A man meeting a friend, instead met with Betrayal, and that Upscale Brooklyn bar had become the stage in which a scene unfolds and escalates, involving a S.H.I.E.L.D grab team, and one lone Superhuman Operative who functioned at street level in this same area. A very well known Man, African American, stout, bald and experienced with quite the reputation in these parts as one of the greatest Hero's of his time. S.H.I.E.L.D currently employs this man under the enhanced Superhuman Imperative, tasking him as an agent for their cause in regulating and policing superhuman/Inhuman activity. Unfortunately for S.H.I.E.L.D and New Avenger Luke Cage, their current objective was no light catch, and wouldn't be so easily subdued. THOOOOOM!!!!!!! The south side wall of this establishment would be blown open as Luke's body passed through it and slammed into a Parked Bmw 528xi, the latter hit with enough force to slide across the street, roll onto driver side and slam into the south side wall of the establishment across the street, pinning Cage beneath the car and buildings debris. Clearly whoever, or whatever he was fighting was batting high above his average, and whomever was in fact Protues Rauz, in M-Body/Avatar form, stepping free through the gathered dust veil and out into the street, Clad in street clothes, a simple set of boots, jeans, t shirt and leather jacket, loosely fitted to his 12' Hulking frame. [GT-1 Leader]"This guy put Cage through a fucking wall he is out, Any other assets in the area? What's the status on The Avengers, Overwatch. Wait....we have visual, it's-----" The BMW had rustled some and had been rolled and free'd from his back while Cage emerged from the debris, jostled, and rubbing his jaw. "Cancel that ETA, I got this guy..." A females voice of authority quickly quipped back, "The last time he was here he put down Thor, Banner and Wonder Man back to back, Im not looking for a Martyr. Cage wait for help" Guys got experience. Guys got ego and a sense of honor about him. It drives him and compels him in full sprint back across the street, dead center where he'd lead in with an over-hand right that misses by a mile, in part because of Bull's height advantage. Cage's punch is slipped, and next thing he knows he's got knuckles harder then all get out burying into his right row of ribs, breaking them. Cage sucked in air, winces, His SKINS invulnerable his musculature? Only enhanced. So the pain is real, and his right elbow comes down to cradle those powdered ribs before he's struck right side at his exposed lower jaw, jostled, left, and from that left side another brutal right cross, precedes the fist crashing into his solar plexus, again, with his right knee, again with his left knee---Cages Feet never reaching the ground when he was lifted from the first, and finished with right uppercut that tripples down on the same spot that had been hit twice, previously. His attacker relented... And Cage dropped to his knee's and spat to the ground the contents of his stomach which was mostly Blood, stomach acids and maybe, just maybe....beer. Cage had been downed. Hard, and Coup De Gras'd with a downward overhand right that buried Cage's entire head into the spitting street beneath it, and jostled buildings and cars for a full 1/4 of a square mile. In his finality, Proteus' eyes had locked with the Grab Team Leaders, before Proteus commanded, "I want to speak to Danvers! I didn't come here for this!"..
  3. Tea Key Oasis He awoke to the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the general roar of wind rushing over the sea. The warmth of the sun was at his back, but the sand he lay in felt cool, almost refreshing. The sounds of civilization filled his ears, the quite hum of vehicles droning on, feet moving across wooden flooring...maybe a dock? The sound of gulls swooping overhead prompted Char to lift himself off of his sandy bed. Brushing his clothes off, while simultaneously wiping his hands free of any sand, Char peered about at what appeared to be a tropical island paradise. Gingerly rubbing the sand off his face, he wondered just where in the hell he was. The memory of the rift was still fresh in his mind. He’d been in the lab—no, Dojan’s office. Now he stood before a bustling resort? There was none of the vaulted architecture he’d grown to associate with Alterion. The buildings were fairly squat by comparison, but far from dilapidated and wide enough to house several businesses. Char turned to look out over the sea, in some vain hope of gaining his bearings and stared in dumbfounded awe at the horizon. The ocean that churned before him was not composed of water, but energy...that same coalescing radiance he’d seen in the rift. The vast sea of power thrummed in tune with the beat of his heart, only serving to further unnerve the erstwhile youth. Suddenly, he became aware of his hair marring his vision and moved to sweep the blonde locks clear...wait...blonde? For as long as he could remember, Char'd had black hair...pitch black. His journey must have changed him? There was still so much he was trying and failing to understand. His gaze moved to the buildings just beyond the shore and Char resolved to at least figure out where in the shit he was before he absolutely lost his fucking mind. A small sign clung to the dock, simplistic if not adequately carved. It bore three words of varying capitalization: " TeY KeY OaSiS " Shrugging his shoulders, Char felt his pockets searching for the weight of a coin purse and finding little more than some wadded up and rumpled Alterion bills. "Better than nothing, I suppose." With a sigh, Char made his way towards the dock and civilization beyond.
  4. [Recap] In these past events, the Kingdom of Taurus and it's Ruler has seen much change. Seeking answers in regard to his origins and his fathers legacy, Proteus Rauz found himself exiled to the Celestial Realm---Where the Absolute Authority, confines and contains the remaining progenitors of his race. Time stood still there... he was subjected to their test, trials and tribulations and experimentation, meanwhile the kingdom and home he knew would be devoid of his presence for over 1,000 years. Proteus' liberation came at the expense of the captives lives. Destroying the last remnants of his bloodline, retaking prized possessions destined for his ownership and flinging himself back across the planes of existence and back home where he emerged anew. Proteus Rauz had emerged Anew. Changed. Different. Not only was he far older, hardened even, his powers had grown exponentially as did his control over them. His views and outlooks on his path and those of his people had also been altered. Having established a relationship with the powers that be in the lands of Alterion, Proteus, under his own power had moved the entirety of his kingdom from the Lands of Genesaris, to the Spirit Realm of Xaengri-La. Where he would be free from mortal observation. Where his prominence could have neither positive or negative effects on the lands surrounding his kingdom, so that no balances could be tipped or disturbed and that no other governing body could benefit nor suffer. However, even as he established his kingdom, and their outer realm territories, Proteus Rauz' ideals and goals have widened and expanded. He had become somewhat of a Nihilist, embracing what he had discovered what his original intent and reason for being was. TO BRING ABOUT DEATH AND DESTRUCTION, TO ALL. His re-emergence , and return to the throne under this new ideology has put many of his closest ally's and family at an unease, Even the Queen, Priscilla---His birth mother, and the one who worked the hardest to bury the secrets of Bulls origins and true nature, has found herself at her absolute wits end as to how to guide or manager her son, and after his re-emergence, far to under-powered to force anything upon him. So silently she has watched, ever so diligently as Proteus sets about procuring the knowledge needed to accomplish his goal. His one true ideal, his one true intention----TO BECOME DEATH ITSELF. [And now....] His throne room used to bathe light. Every square inch of it, illuminated from the free flowing light from yonder. That has drastically changed. Large metal shutters existed where windows once were. They kept this place devoid of light. It was insulated, sounds were equally scarce save for that of the constant HUM of raw unbridled power flowing through 4 massive umbilical cords that ran beneath the ground up behind his throne and into a custom fitment that affixed into hard points on his back. The ONLY light present within this rume was from the Rune Brands aglow along his body in a blood red hue. It was there that he sat. His body constantly absorbing and harmonizing the seemingly limitless ebb and flow of spatio-temporal-anima present in the limitless expanse of this spiritual realm. Disconnected from his people. Departed from a society that he helped to sculpt and once coveted, but nowadays, feared him as they never have before. The Council had long been killed and disbanded by his own hand save for one who squandered away still within the confines of their prison. In truth there was only one thing that could keep Proteus situated as he was now. He had no intent on moving, nor a desire to do so because simply put he was waiting on something. That something was coveted. Desired and favored above anything at this time and it was the only thing that eluded him these days. It was pure. It was valued by anything and everyone be they Man, King or God. There was nothing exempt from it's benefit and there in it lied no TRUE face value for it, but there was also no limit to what would be expended for it. Knowledge. Plain and simple. He needed the means and understanding as to how to go about achieving his goal---which for the most part was thought to be inconceivable and impossible, however, when the Absolute authority. The Omnipotent one. "The Creator" himself, assures you that such is NOT beyond the realm of a being such as himself----You take that notion for what it's worth. There was one individual who had such knowledge, or at least could point him in the direction. This being, is and always will be favored. His most beloved. One to whom he trusted the most. Covets the most. Priscilla...The Queen, and his mother. Despite who she was to him she has also coincidentally been the greatest source of obscurity and deception. The understanding of these facts and the dynamics of them all has left Proteus shifted in stance. Wavered, somewhat unsure. As a child he clung to her every word. She molded his beliefs, directed his ideals and aspirations, All for what?? To lie? To keep the truth away from him? For what purpose? Some selfish ideal of goal of her own? It was to much for him to understand. To much for him to process, and whenever his mother was around the King was nothing short of contrived. However....she held the keys, she knew the ways, and his current goals and aspirations although no favored by her, were goals she could help him achieve. So he sat....and waited. For her.. @Lacernella Rubra
  5. • TABLE of CONTENTS • I. SYNOPSIS Exotic Artifacts are special legendary pieces of equipment, only qualifying for Class 4, and must earn Class 5 to achieve the full benefit for the specific equipment, and must be obtained in very specific ways, set forth by the creator/DM/GM/Staff. These ways have to be met or the equipment is forfeited and you are ejected from your location and spat back to Xaengri La. How you arrive in Xaengri La is entirely dependent upon the course of actions prior to attempting to take on the quest in the first place: were you dead, or alive? Did you fail the quest because of death? II. STIPULATIONS As stated above, these pieces of equipment will directly specify what exactly is the end goal and/or nature of acquisition, however there is a specific focus to performing this task to acquire said artifact. Some may call for you to follow a specific challenge in order to retrieve the equipment, some will call for extreme measures, and others will involve death. Before this worries you, don't forget to read the Rules of Engagement for Izral and understand that Death is not an ending, but an alternative path to your character's story development, designed by you, but aided by us to add depth and give you another aspect of writing to experience. III. RULES a.) The creator of the weapon will designate the end goal of achievement, or it will be automatically decided by an GM of Alterion. b.) You will abide by the Stipulations and Rules to obtain your equipment, or you will not receive it. c.) If you have a submission for this board, please use the template provided and submit it to @Syncopy via PM for review and submission. IV. DISCLAIMER Lastly, if you are reading this and you are disinterested because the D1E aspect to various things and it doesn't appeal to your style of combat (T1 over Dice NPC), then you may take the liberty to modify the present status to reflect something more T1. Request assistance from the creator or GM for alterations. e.g. Instead of additional +1 to attacks, you gain a rush of energy which allows you to strike more ferociously. It's the same thing, worded without the notion of dice. You get the idea. Same goes for any other sets or items you will find here. The Dice System is not mandatory or forced. [SC | Soul Carver's Set] — Creator & GM @Syncopy Vast Well-Hound | If a player has two or more set pieces, each item gains the ability to store +1 Prep. Going into battle, these are available, but once spent the user will be required to either refill them during combat—or exit a combat thread to have them replenished. Lich Dexterity | If a player has three or more set pieces, no 1s can be rolled—unless desired so by the user for specific gain. Reroll 1s. Becoming The Reaper | If a player has four or more set pieces, they may create a new ability [approved by creator or GM (purposes of OP-tracking)] on each weapon; taught to it by the user, so that it will not require mana, conscious effort, or fatigue of preparation, due to weapon sentience. SC Battleaxe SC Hammer SC Greatsword SC Shortsword SC Twinblades SC Bow SC Shield SC Staff SC Tome & Totem SC Instrument The Enhancements for these weapons are specialized gems that can be manipulated to be exchanged ONLY BETWEEN other SC weapons, for added customization. Proximal skills/abilities may be 'In Addition To'. Speak with GM about Stacking Abilities. Stipulations and Rules The SC equipment can only be obtained in one of two ways: Successfully capture & turn-in or kill someone on the Elite Bounty Listing. Complete a Return from Death (RfD) Quest, in Xaengri La. This requires you to die within Izral, of your own doing or whoever you desire and your body be transported to the soul realm side of Xaengri La, where you complete a 40 post quest to self-resurrect.
  6. Xaengri-La :: the Spirit Realm Jaakuna Keimusho :: Prison of the Damned In a dark and twisted cell, sat an indistinguishable figure. The cage around him like that of a bird's own, mixed with the growth of vines and roots of the blackest tree, which only spread higher and lower, from the floor and roof to other cells. In this bank alone, the swaying cells numbers more than two dozen: a pod, as it were called in the form of a joke. Peas, and such... The mangled ebony encased the crazed, the delusional, the perfectly normal—yet no longer. Killers, thieves, murderers, and simpletons; anyone who had offered their life within the confines of Izral's own pledged darkness, loomed somewhere in the depths of the spiritual side of Xaengri-La. Killed by a stampeding horse? Xaengri-La. Butchered by savages? Xaengri-La. What about drowned at birth, to the postpartum? Xaengri-La. Sad, but true—a paradoxical purgatory and all whom had lost their lives was invited to partake in the afterlife... or the hellish nightmare that no one knew about. Heaven? Angels? You thought you'd be singing glory to the God on high, did you? Praises to Tellah, yes? Where is YOUR SAINT ODIN, NOW?! Ha.. hahah.... hahaHah! There is certainly no heaven and nothing pretty, fancy, or majestic about the slithering darkness, bathing in a liquid that cannot be identified; this nightmare exists because of human indecency. The darkness of hearts keeps the death company, even after the corpse is still cold... So this man, right? He sat in cell AAA1. That's right, the third string of the first cell, except his was tethered to the molten floor, that writhed with a plum and amethyst swirl of the most psychedelic colors known to humanity. Perhaps not even a color existed to describe the iridescent shimmer of black that the boiling mauve emitted. A glow of black was unheard of. Perhaps though, a mind game in itself to test the waters. But this guy, right? He didn't even move. He just sat in one spot, day in and day out. And every month or so the prison gets just a little too full and they decide that doubling up is a good idea. Or rather an entertaining idea. But this guy, yeah? Suspicious. So suspicious in fact, that this individual had watchful eyes on his cage to determine what exactly he was; how he did what he did; and now and again, the boss would feed the enigma someone special, just to try and catch a glimpse. Humans had a great many words for the Devil. Satan or Lucipher were always the usual go-to names, but for ages, they have changed. Eris. Even Set. But he preferred Cyric, it had a classier ring to it than the boredom of being called Set or the androgyny of Eris. No one could ever get that shit right... so frustrating. About as frustrating as this creepy bastard in the cage, right? The special souls were the defiant ones. The one's who denied their spiritual life and decided that a full-death was far more reasonable and understanding. Those who chose this path stared up into the ebb of cerulean light that split the great dark world above, as if peering through reality into the bluest skies in the clearest of atmospheres. Their hope disgusted Cyric, whom had none to begin with. How could he have home as a time-honored and permanent guest of the PP. You know... I know you do. Don't sit and wonder about PP. It'll certainly taint your mind and wander to something thick and solid... throbbing ... and thrashing, like the bodies of those who paved the walkways—still living—...well, spiritually-ish. Of course there are walkways, silly... did you think this was a world of pitch, blood, and lunatics? Well, you're 100% right, without other fact though—like there's theater portals that those who have served their time and would rather spend their time in the afterlife of lunacy, doing as they pleased. They sit and watch the real world upon the corporeal and laugh at the stupidity of humanity and their selfish squabbling over nothing important. This world is just like yours. Except this one has death everywhere and schizophrenia isn't taboo—it's the norm!
  7. Xaengri-La :: the Spirit Realm Jaakuna Keimusho :: Prison of the Damned Prison in the spirit realm was not the same as that of the real world. Madness is the status quo. The real world focused on controlling an environment, setting rules and boundaries in which inmates must follow to the letter or be punished. The segregation of specific persons based on their intentions, their history, and their crime was a paramount priority to maintain this element of control, however in a place such as Xaengri-La ... such control and law were vastly skewed, if not entirely backwards. The realm itself was said to be a mirror of corporeality; like a layer of cells upon the epidermis of the seen, lay beneath in waiting and watching. The mirror could be distorted at times, broken in others, and all housed by the demented and insane, gone that way by merely watching the waves of humanity from a fishbowl looking glass. The demons that rule the place—if they could be called that, were often lost souls themselves at one point that in some way, shape, or form obtained a power or gift that allowed them to begin a form of mimicry control as they watched the those in the looking glass perform. And so the cycle repeated itself... on and on, and on, and on ... you can imagine one going insane for being put in a place like this. The boundaries of the Spirit world and the Corporeal are not to be messed with lightly, and often forbidden for commune. Mediums communicate through telepathy and otherworldly gifts, which are often a means of information transmission, but those who are extremely powerful can perform ethereal projections and more... It has always been those who seek more power in the Corporeal realm that meddle in the arts of Aether, Ethereality, and the Consumption of the Soul (or sacrifice) to gain this power. With such a gift (or curse), some have even been known to alter the destiny of those within the Spirit Realm, an unthinkable act—to meddle in the affairs of the dead.
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