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  1. Gabriela sat in the sun. She felt like she was baking in it. The heat was like a heavy blanket -- comforting and penetrating. Maybe it was the bitter chill in the air or just the fact that the only coat she managed to grab before leaving the airship was some thin little thing that wasn’t at all equipped for the harsh conditions of the city, and the landscape beyond, but for whatever reason, sitting there on that long, metal bench, soaking in the direct light of the sun felt like absolute heaven. This was a colossal city. Blairville. A good place to make her escape. Golden eyes shifted upward to see the massive metal bodies that floated in the sky, far above her head. It was an airship port, and there were hundreds of those mechanical monstrosities ebbing to and fro in something akin to repose. Somewhere, up there, was her marvel of modern mechanics. The airship had been gifted to her by the High Lord Ryzerus, but had then been promptly commandeered by a vile fiend. Now it was in his control forever more, and things were complicated that much more because of it. But the theft of her birthday gift was an echo of so many of the other transgressions done against her person. Any and every pretty thing in her possession was often taken, and often broken by those who were stronger and more powerful. Even this escape was just a thinly veiled dismissal after the fiend had grown bored of her company, as he often did. Her escape was nothing more than rejection now that her ability to entertain had waned. It was as simple as waking up one day to find the door that had always been locked suddenly left unlocked, and in fact, wide open. No clearer invitation for her expulsion could be made, and she did not need any further explanation. So she grabbed what she could, which consisted of only the clothing on her body, and she took off before his tumultuous mind could change. An ill fitting pair of jeans, worn nearly bare at the knees, a white shirt, a gray, finely-knitted sweater, and a thin, long, wool jacket. It would have been warm enough for the winters in Orisia, perhaps even a little much. But it wasn’t going to be enough for the freezing nights of the North in Terrenus. And she hadn’t a cent to her name -- she didn’t even know the formal form of currency in this particular part of the continent. And yet she did not feel panic. For now the sun was shining and through the crisp and cold air, it warmed her directly. And although she was hungry and thirsty, neither was so great a need that she was anxious for drink or food. She wanted to take a moment to feel normal, as if she were strolling the streets of this gargantuan city, site-seeing perhaps, and had simply grown tired. Here, she had stopped to take a rest and so had found a seat to enjoy the sights and sounds of the airships flying in and out of the port. In many ways, it was like graceful ships with their elegant sails that floated along the turquoise waters of the Atitlan Lake, swaying just feet away from golden shores -- and in many ways it was nothing like that beautiful and peaceful world. Gabriela crossed her arms because she was cold and she crossed her legs, one knee over the other. She leaned back in her seat and curved her back along the shape of the bench until her head was tilted back and the sun was hitting her chin and her exposed throat. The heat felt familiar, but so much softer and kinder. “I could sit here forever,” she said out loud to herself, “I could die here.”
  2. Ouroboros had existed in Blairville for only a year, and yet it gained quite a reputation for it's business practices; Marketing as a source of every sinful distraction one could ask for and headed by an Illustrious succubus known as Calypso. Calypso and Gilandriel both owning Ouroboros and seeing to it's many functions, but the demoness was far more starstruck than her reclusive partner and gladly became the face of the company. The bar itself possessing a wide array of drinks and mixes from all over the world, and even having it's own curious flair.The double door entrance manned by a bodyguard lead into a strobing hall of blues and purples opened up into a vast open space where patrons sat at various tables, and even danced to the music that emanated from seemingly everywhere. A stage visible nearly twenty ahead with dozens of patrons eagerly awaiting for the next performance to start, whatever was going on was soon to start. A bar having the most patrons crowding around it to the farthest right, A well dressed bartender weaving magic through the air and infusing the alcohol with luminescent lights before giving them to thirsting patrons. An orange tinged drink being presented to an awestruck woman . his gold skin making his magenta gaze more prominent through the locks of periwinkle hair. The sound of sudden cheers catching attention as many started to crowd around the stage placed directly in the center of the main floor; The entire bar now focusing their attention around a woman in a jeweled dress. Her hair long and sparkling gold, and matched her eyes as the room filled with the music of her voice as she started a performance without introduction. Her voice being backed by an unseen melody of electronica that vibrated the air and had many already jumping and down in place as her falsetto skyrocketed into a nonearly thirte the music seemed to twirl around as the note held and was carried off into the melody itself as she continued to sing once more. This club taking it's music quite seriously and making it a performance and something one can thoroughly enjoy dancing to. Tears beginning to christen her face in an unexpected drive of emotion as the music continued to boom throughout the bar. Calypso herself watching from a distant stool, A most evocative woman with eyes of sultry hot pink. A lackadaisical smile touching her perfect lips. the air around her crackling against skin as though this woman possessed an intoxicating aura. She possessed snake earrings that looped through her elven ears a few times before the sapphire eyed heads perched at the pointed tips. Her hair an ocean of silver and gold locks that flowed down her exposed back and hung off the stool. her dress enrapturing her physique in a tightly woven pendulum of anticipation that dared to come lose and expose them to a wave of emotions they hadn't expected to combat today Calypso intrigued to see the new performances her stars were putting on tonight. They were indeed giving their best as tonight was the night she had a meeting with Ina over a potential music interest. It seemed a band was being started and they wanted to use her stage to reveal it. She was all too happy to add more performances and if it increased her reputation all the better. Gold Dust's performance ending with a gallivant of cheers as she curtsied and blew out a few kisses to the front row before vanishing behind the curtain. The succubus finding this performer to be her greatest asset, and certainly made her the hottest underneath her collar. The atmosphere seemed to change once more; The man on stage seeming to be more than a stage act. He breathed the very life into the stage itself as he moved from the high energy he had been belting out to something more close to home as he took hold of the mic and announced that he would be playing something near and dear to his heart; A song from his hometown. Sevra groaning from her position guarding the office and slumped into her chair; the lack of bass these songs lacked did not vibe with the DJ, but even she couldn't deny the awe his performances always emanated. ]The music becoming high in energy, but possessing an alluring tune that many still grooved to as the musician took the stage once more and filled the bar with his dulcet tones. The lyrics could almost be felt internally as his voice drew forth a glamour that showed the reason why he was Calypso' Main Act. An incubus who infused all his power into the skills of a bard, twisting the archaic class on it's head. Any gender hard pressed to conceal the adoration that was being pulled from them as he rocked the house the best way he knew how. @Shatter @-Lilium-
  3. I did a little turn in front of the full-length mirror in my inn room, unable to suppress a grimace. Was this outfit good enough? Was it even in style? It had been so long since I'd been on a date, I wasn't even sure if they were still called "dates" anymore. I'd decided, tentatively, to keep my Melissande Le'Blanc outfit; I was going to have to get used to it as my "primary" form if I was going to become an infamous pirate captain. Wouldn't do for the captain to go around changing genders and species between every port of call. Eyebrows would be raised. Questions would be asked. There would be talk. Nothing was worse than unspecified talk. Well, other than decapitation, I suppose. Decapitation always sucks. It was going to be weird though, sticking with one body for an extended period of time; the last time I'd done that, tri-cornered hats with feathers in them were the style. And longbows. And green tights. Ahh, those were good days. "But should I be taller?" I shifted my form to be six feet tall and peered at the mirror. "Or should I be shorter?" I compressed my body down to just about five feet tall. The shorter version of me, thanks to conservation of mass (fie and damnation on that infernal limitation!) had a more prominent bedonkadonk. Was that fashionable? Or were we more in a tomboy sort of era? I had no idea. It didn't occur to me to ask if my date was an ass woman. So many questions it didn't occur to me to ask. I'm usually better at thinking on my feet than that, but for some reason, this entire concept was flustering me. A date. A real, honest-to-goodness date; not a con, not me playing an angle, not me trying to get something out of someone in the service of my own selfish goals. Just two people getting together and seeing if there was a click. A connection. A chemistry. That was... kind of a foreign idea. And it produced foreign feelings. I was sure I hadn't created butterflies in my stomach, but for some reason I felt them anyway. I grimaced again at the mirror and split the difference between the heights, settling at about five-foot-six. It was pretty average, probably not great for a first impression, but time was running out and really, the specifics of my physical features were entirely negotiable. I wondered if that was something to bring up at the first date, or if that was more like third-date information. The Rookhelm Tavern Hall was busy that night; I might should have arrived earlier, but I had to take a detour through the public gardens and surreptitiously dig up a couple of pretty flowers. As for where I got the pot to put them in, well, better to not ask too many questions. That was definitely not first-date information. I stepped up to the doorman, potted plant in hand, and gave him my best smile. "Le'Blanc, reservation for two?" He looked down at his clipboard and frowned; he was just about to bring his eyes back up to mine and tell me he didn't see me on the list, except his eyes never got to mine. They stopped on the pile fire-cut gems that had just magically appeared on his fancy lectern. It took him a second to figure out what the deal was, but to his credit, he didn't even purse his lips before sliding my "gift" into his apron pouch. "Of course, Madame. Right this way." He led me to a nice table, not too far from the kitchen, not too close to the middle of the room, perfect for an intimate conversation in a comfortable setting. I sat down and addressed the host before he walked back to his position. "My other party will probably ask for me, but on the off chance she's forgotten my name--gods know I do sometimes--just be on the lookout for a beautiful young woman with a regal bearing and the most amazing hair." "Of course, Madame." He smiled at me, and I was pretty sure I had his attention in a good way. Tonight would be awesome. Assuming I wasn't hideously out of style. But it was too late to worry about that. @Lucinda Valentine
  4. It was a sunny day in Blairville when the Shields of Valor arrived. They had heard about the problems facing it, and believed it would be a good place for finding glory and rewards. A dozen or so people made their way in, each one with the distinctive sigil of their group, with Phillip Komar at the front. Their first stop was the local guardhouse, to obtain information and learn what might need to be done in order to help. After learning about a ring of kidnappers plaguing the streets, the Shields decided to make that their first mission, and arrived at a local tavern, The Magic Man, to figure out how to stop these deviant criminals. @Waking_Warrior
  5. It was late afternoon when Will Sharr entered the Purple Axe. It was an active inn, filled with residents that were simply enjoying their meals and each other. Judging by the time, the nightlife wouldn't start for a little while, so this would likely be the mood for as long as he intended to stay. Fortunately, he was seated quickly and, as soon as he sat, he set a battered crossbow down on the table and put his head in his hands. It was hard to pin down his thoughts. They came together then blew apart, driven by the wind of his memories. He could close his eyes to force some order, but the moment he was distracted was the moment everything went to shit. Will sucked in a breath, running his hands through his hair. It was all so raw. The wizard Mone and the damnable ring. When would Professor Cutler get here? He'd been told to head over to the Purple Axe and here he sat, one denizen amongst a dozen that were being served their lunch. I'm hungry...and not poor anymore. Actually, maybe I should order something. He raised an arm to flag a server down. The woman nodded to show that she'd seen him, then made a confused face when Will winced in pain. His arm still ached from the tattoo the Cutter had given him. It was a Glizer spell sleeve, whatever that meant. As far as he understood, it would give him an edge that he sorely needed. Indeed, Will was a human in a world of magic. If he wanted to continue down this path...if he wanted to build a career of extraordinary adventure, he would need to become extraordinary to keep up. He flexed the arm, watching the markings ripple in response. What could he do with it? How did it even work- Serill, fading to nothingness, ripped apart by Pierre. He winced as the memory shot through. Donovan suddenly just being there. How? Gods, what had happened to Mone? The ring? How does someone contain them? "...have a warm selection of meats and beer on tap." Will blinked and looked up at the waitress, who regarded him with a smile. Maybe she was used to strange customers. He looked past her at the half-orc innkeeper that seemed to be running things. He'd looked at Will with a kind gaze too. He must've given off the air of someone who needed sympathy. Or a hug, he thought with a grin. "Ah, I'm Will Sharr," he said finally, sliding his eyes back to the waitress. "Nice to meet you. I'll just take chicken and water. I'm kinda simple." "And that is appreciated, Mr. Sharr." She left soon after that, leaving Will with his thoughts. He wished she hadn't. @supernal
  6. Arsinia Crescentia was a fairly simple women, as simple as one of her station could be. Standing at four foot two and of a strong constitution, she ate meager meals though she could afford more, and her housing area was small but she could pay for a larger one. She didn't care much for wealth and comfort, simply yearned for the rewarding effort of smithing. The jarring clangs of metal on heated metal, the satisfying hiss of warm iron meeting water, and the workout that came with pumping the bellows. Smithing was her life. And her shop, the Crescent Hammer, was going to be her lifeline. Arsinia, if you haven't picked it up yet, was a blacksmith. She originally started it as a hobby, but eventually money started to dwindle, and she came to face the facts: You needed coin to survive. Without coin you couldn't buy food, or water, or a workspace, or materials... If she wanted to keep up the hobby, she needed to turn it into a job. So here she was. Wiping her hands down the front of her smock, she looked at her newest creation: A long, thin sword called a rapier. She should name it, she thought, but her mind was blank of ideas. Her short, brown, bobbed hair bounced as she spun deftly towards the back door. She opened it and stepped through silently, into the space behind the counter. Into her shop. Her shop. The concept felt so new, so foreign- but she wasn't dreaming. She beamed with pride, gazing around the room. It was filled with various examples of her work- battleaxes, warhammers, shortswords, staffs- there were even some pieces of armor scattered about. The shop looked clean, new- void of the usual dust that seemingly followed her everywhere. The weapons were arranged neatly on racks, in displays, and on the walls, with stands near the doorway for the armor. The wooden interior felt crisp and well-kept, and she was glad. She knew that the tiny bell arranged above the door would ring out an alarm whenever somebody entered- nothing too shocking, simply a noise like a windchime- and that a sign above the door exclaimed the presence of the building to anybody who passed by. It was only a matter of time. Until then, she'd wait. She sat, folding her hands. Only a matter of time, she assured herself. OOC Thread
  7. The sun seemed to shine a particularly intense red this sunset as time seemed to slow for a lone woman walking the streets of Blairville. The winding streets of the city served only to confuse her natural sense of direction and the men stunk like work and filth. Nocturna hated mankind but she came to this city to find someone she wanted. She could tell her mark was close but the busy streets made her frustration rise. People pushed passed her in their rush to get where they were going. She had to restrain her outrage as she felt a hand along her body , only a child attempting to steal her non existent coin. Her scowl was enough to scare the pick pocket away but now she had lost the trail. She wished she could just fly above it all to get a better sense of direction but that would only cause undue commotion. No, better to walk among the men of the city than draw attention such as that. Thats when she caught a glimpse of a man in a black suit with dark black hair. Formal attire, unusual for every day travel but it suited perfectly to his personality. Slowly she approached the man, the draw of the mark grew stronger as she drew closer. She could see the profile of his face now! It was Noah! Her heart raced with excitement as she hastened her pace. Quickly without her own direction her hand reached out to him once he was close enough. She grasped the cuff of his suit jacket before she realized she didnt look the same. She had changed her appearance quite a lot. changing her hair to an earthy brown and her eyes to a more human hazel. She also was much shorter now a more average height of 5"4. She however did not hesitate, without fear she took another step before a strong tug would grasp Noah's attention. @danzilla3
  8. Blairville OOC Only 2 people had shown up for his adventuring clinic. A few factors contributed to this low attendance: he was kind of young for a professor, adventuring as a whole was on a decline as circumstances multiplied avenues by which a person could make a mint without putting their lives at risk, and he wanted to teach at an intermediate level when most people were either new to the field or tired, old hands at it already. Appreciating these facts cerebrally failed to dull the emotional sting. But the pain was short-lived, and quickly replaced by the burning engine of Donovan's uncompromising ambition. He met them at the Pavilion of the Sun, Moon and Seasons; on the table were little sandwiches, empty cups, and a pot of coffee. He had poured himself a cup, minute sips turning into hearty gulps over time, but without any sense of hurry or anxiety, bright yellow eyes on a casual swivel to take in the constantly changing people-scape of the bustling market. And when they arrived, and introductions were exchanged, Professor Cutler dove into it. "This is a 102 clinic, which means no chaperone. You two are going to do it all your own, and I'll either be watching or will rely on feedback from the customer and reports from you two about each other, to determine your final score. "The job belongs to Mone, a wizard with a place in the Tower Quarter. He'll tell you the rest of the job when you get there and tell him you're on the case."
  9. ► Blairville was cold. Tommy was underdressed. She was wearing a rain jacket, because she didn't have anything else to wear. It didn't help that the winds here were strong enough to hurl a kid (much like herself) into the river. Every now and then she'd catch the gentle drifts of wind like an icy soul caressing her skin, but most of the time, it was the WHOOSH and the FHOOOOOOO—and—Tommy got a cold, Tommy has been sniffling and sneezing for the whole duration she's been waiting here. A pair of drunkards hobbled their way behind her, too drunk to notice her. One of them tripped. The other tried to pick him up, but he ended up tripping, too. They went on to complain in incoherent speech about wanting to pee and, no not over there, don't do it there, goddamnit Joey, that's not a fucking water hydrant, that's a mailbox, Tommy didn't bother, and kept standing there in the cold cold dark—occasional blinks of pink logo light flashed across her. The logo—if you could make it out—said 'The Wet Dog', and it belonged to an abandoned diner whose windows have been heavily boarded down with rusty nails and dead wood. Much like everything else in this part of the neighbourhood, it looked sketchy as hell. As far as she can tell, the light from the diner is the only light you can see from a distance away. She took out her wrist and looked at her watch. It was one of those kiddie watches where you had to slap them real hard on your wrist to wear them. Her eyes squinted from the constant flickering of pink light and the sudden disappearance of said pink light. It read 1AM. 1AM, and she'd been standing around in the slums. All alone, wildly screaming mug me. It's nighttime in Blairville: not a very good time for a teenager, let alone a girl, to be wandering around in a city where magical criminal activity spiked. She almost got convinced into smoking a new drug on the way here: Mydixadril, the locals called it. Scary how they almost convinced her, even more scary were the supposed side effects. Tommy shivered. But to be fair, Tommy had balls (no, not those), and she's not gonna pussy out because a bunch of evil evil wizards are out to sprinkle glitter in her eyes and take off with, like, her wallet. The matter at hand right now was way more important than her money. This interview could mean everything. Mercenary work was her only source of income nowadays. She even took a shower, bought some new clothes: the things she didn't know she was capable of doing! Tommy blew a raspberry. It faded into a cloud of white air. She started hopping and up down to shake off some anxiety. "Okay, okay," hopping up and down, "be cool, be cool," Just be cool. Say hey. Saying hi's lame, don't say hi. Just be cool. Tommy made her way up the broken stairs and almost got tetanus. Her eyes settled on the symbol on the door, the dust settling inside the etchings of wood. It looked exactly like the one she saw in her paper. A sword bisecting a scale. @Praetorian @supernal
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