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Found 18 results

  1. Nobilis

    What's in a name?

    "There are some cases, rare as they might be, where birth is not something that happens only once. It can happen twice, or more times, depending on the circumstances. A second birth, however, is often immediately preceded by a death of some kind. These *deaths* often leave indelible marks on the mind, or spirit, or soul of that person. Depending on the circumstances, it's safe to say that calling them a person might not even be accurate. These things should always be evaluated on a case-by-case basis, and sometimes they are good, and in other cases, well, let's just say that purging things with fire might be a better option than to permit that life to flourish. You never really know though." - High Magus Spindleweave, A treatise on existence She had died. She was sure of it. Now, the only thing that she was aware of was the screaming. It was incessant, pausing only for the ragged inhalation of breath, broken up by gasps, needed to permit further screams. The screaming was due to the pain—and the pain was due to the birth. The woman was being stitched back together; every fibre of her being, previously torn and ripped apart, carefully and slowly and painfully put back together. At times, the stitching was so careful and fine that it was seamless, while other times the thrashing caused there to be imperfect stitching, leaving a mark, sometimes small, sometimes large, on the porcelain skin. There was something else that was present, but she had difficulty hearing it through the shrill cries that pierced the darkness. Try as she might, she couldn't make out the words over the noise. She wondered who it was that was being assembled, and also who it was that the woman had been before. Did it matter? The question lingered for a moment before further observation of the assembling of a new thing grasped onto her interest once more, clutching like talons at her interest and attentions. Bone, sinew and skin were being layered on top of an existing identity and self; that self being warped and crushed and flayed from its original shell and useful elements were reattached and melded to new parts and fragments. It was the only way that they knew how to make a simulacrum of this type. An approximation of humanity, at least a skin deep one. A twinge caused her to actively be aware of something; a pain. Her throat hurt. The screams were hers. The incessant pain was hers. She was being flayed. This realization made it worse. She wasn't aware of what the pain stopped, but realized that her consciousness was no longer being wracked and split apart. The pain had, at least for the most part, subsided and now all that was left was a dull and constant throbbing. Her mind felt like it was undulating against the inside of her skull, her head snapped back quickly, striking something very hard and feeling something shatter. The pain resumed, more localized this time, but no less intense and terrible. The knitting and stitching she had felt returned; so did the screaming. She was only partially aware of her left hand trying to dig into her face, trying to claw out the things moving around in her mind. The stitching became sloppy here, a long and very visible scar the result of this forming under her left eye, running back towards her ear. Something caused her hands to go rigid and a forced rigor mortis prevented her from moving. But not from screaming. Even though she could make out the sound of wind, somewhere off beyond the boundaries of her flesh, the scream was internal and all encompassing. It was absolute. And then, for a time, there was the inky blackness of unconsciousness and the merciful peace that accompanied it. There was a voice now, in the absence of her own screaming, that could be heard echoing through the cavernous depths of her self. "H' ah yar llll ymg' l' ah'sgn" It was an oppressive and crushing voice. She felt her identity crumble under the weight of things so old and so impossible to understand. She opened her eyes and saw the sky. She saw things flying far above her, darting through uncaring and roiling dark clouds. Lightning ripped through the sky, hissing and cracking. "nafl'fhtagn" She turned her head and looked across the burnt out land she lay on. She tried to roll over; a slow and immensely painful process. Her muscles contracting and working for the first time. Her fingers gripped the rough stone and she pulled herself onto her stomach, trying to pull her legs under her. "nafl'fhtagn!" The voice in her head was more insistent; dangerous. Warning her that her pace was insufficient. "I am trying." Her voice surprised her. It was not loud, and was easily lost in the noise of the lands and the shattering sounds coming from the sky. "Mg, ymg' ah lw'nafh'nahor. Ah vulgtmnahor" She winced and redoubled her efforts. After what felt like an eternity, longer still because of the overbearing and crushing presence demanding her to rise, she managed to get to her feet. She leaned heavily against a nearby boulder, the cold black stone cutting into the pale meat of the body that had been knit back together. She slid partway down, but managed to grab an edge with surprising strength and pulled herself back up, balancing carefully and gaining assuredness from the mere act of being upright. "Vulgtmnah, ymg' ah ahorr'eogor" She smiled. "Thank you." Then there was silence for a time, and a lack of movement. She did not know how long she had stood there before the voice returned. "Ymg' ephaiah ya nwngluii" She nodded, but it was unclear. "Your eyes for what?". "nilgh'ri" She started walking, north, the direction she knew despite the destination being a mystery to her. She found that she was wearing clothing, but that they were no more than scraps. She would need to find more fitting clothing, something to protect the shell of meat that her spirit was controlling. The voice had left her, but she had asked it a question before it had abandoned her. "Who am I?" The answer had been immediate and clear. "Yh'mi"
  2. The Devil’s Advocate, a dangerous contract killer that did about any job for the right price. And now, he was running along with an organization that likes to call themselves “The Dead” and to add on top of that. They wore masks that resembled a skull. If he was going to be honest, he fit in quite well with these people. They were like him… freaks of nature. Society's outcasts, outlaws, and even more. However, freaks they may be. In his eyes, they were people of some slight renown. Before he embarked on this mission, there was a meeting that not only involved him but other individuals as well. Some had ties with the Dead, others did not but still wished to work, so that they may get a quick buck out of it. The essentials were simple to understand. Get to Corum. Plant the Totem of Alignak. And get out. Only if the Devil’s Advocate would believe it to be so easy. Maybe they could even form some sort of connection with the people of Corum. They’re known as Vati. People with… Song Powers. That’s the best way Morgan could describe them. Unexpectedly, Morgan would be the so-called “leader” of this operation. He didn’t care much. But he cared about the people he worked with, since he demanded from them complete obedience. His orders are not to be questioned. Because, unlike some, he knows what he is doing. (The music that is being played on the ship) The briefing was a few hours ago, now the Squad was in a spaceship of some sorts. It was enormous. Rich and advanced in technology. If anyone asked him where he got this ship. He would tell them not to ask him. The ship even carried Morgan’s friend. Scarlet Devil Barbatos. He was in the far back, right in the ship’s hangar. The NS was on power-down, resting on his knees while some robots did maintenance on him. The Squad Members had a place where they could relax while the ship carried them toward their destination. It felt like a living room, only the image was broken the moment one spot a bar station on the far right. There was a Bartender and everything. The place was busy, especially with the loud music playing in the background. It gave a friendly vibe to everyone inside; the place felt cozy. There were other things inside the ship, such as an armory room, and all the sorts that a ship needed. However, Morgan believed he made it clear to them to absolutely not touch anything. He clearly had some trust issues, or maybe he didn’t like people not minding their own business. Talking about business, Morgan was in the bridge deck or to be more precise the piloting room. When he walked inside, an old friend greeted him as they exchanged glances. “Morgan, you son of a bitch!” he calls, as the man walked toward him and Morgan did the same. The two grabbed onto one another’s hand, their muscles flexing. But the man, also known as Reyes, was struggling to keep the strength contest a contest, as sweat began building up. “I told you to never call me that, Reyes,” Morgan commented. Reyes’ hand was shaking, his breathing racked up as he stared him in… well, not the eyes but the visor. “Oh come on Morton, you know I never give up,” he said with a stoic expression. “Maybe you should,” Morgan replied, as he began forcing through. “Okay, okay!” Reyes let go of his hand, as he chuckled, before patting his friend’s shoulder. “Damn you and your doohickey things.” Morgan chuckled as he walked toward the control panel. “They’re not doohickeys, Reyes. They’re called nanobots,” he looked at him. ”And for your information, I didn’t even use them,” he had a smirk on his face. His visor hid that. “Glad to hear you are not slacking your arm days,” Reyes said, as he approached him. “Okay, Cap’n, where to?” he asked. The Devil’s Advocate quickly worked on the holographic keyboard, as a flying path and map appeared in front of the two. Reyes could see their ship and then the destination. It was quite far away, but they’ll make it there, eventually. But he glanced at Morgan, confused. “I’ve never seen that place before… what’s it called.. UHM.. “ he squinted his eyes, “... Co-Cor..” “Corum,” Morgan said. “I’ve never been to this place before either. The group I’m working with. The Dead. Gave me the information. So far, what I know is Corum’s inhabitants have… song powers,” he cringed at the term, but he did not find any better either. “The City itself resides on a small island in the realm of Terrestria. They’ve told me it resembles a dense jungle. You can easily get lost,” he explained. Reyes chuckled, “song powers?” he asked, “in a big ass Jungle? You sure they’re not some monkeys?” He rolled his eyes. “I did not come up with it,” he stated in a heated voice. “And no, I don’t think so, Reyes.” Reyes lifted his hands, “okay, okay, Advocate, I was just sayin’,” he mentioned. “So, you want me to fly this baby all the way there, right?” he asked. “Right,” Morgan turned and looked at him. “Try not to crash my ship again,” he warned before he walked away from Reyes, leaving him with the warning. “Oh, come on, whenever did I crash your ship?!” he yelled out to him. “Do not make me answer that, Reyes!” he said as he exited the bridge. @amenities, @Zashiii, @danzilla3, @Djinn&Juice, @DarkHorse, @Greenmntman
  3. The red of dawn's early light illuminated brilliantly against the red of Lilith's eyes as she stared at the sun. She struggled to comprehend why mortals would find such pleasure in looking at it. A calming gust of wind fluttered through the area, billowing between the strands of Lilith's hair and ruffling the clothes of the man and woman huddled not a dozen feet behind her. In contrast to what she'd witnessed prior to interrupting the two, they seemed to become more focused on starting at her than staring at the rising sun. Lilith sighed, shaking her head as she glanced back toward them. "Explain it to me one more time," she ordered, motioning back toward the sunrise. "It creates a warm feeling in your chest?" The woman nodded but the man didn't move, as if frozen. So Lilith took pulled her sword from where it stood buried in the dirt and poked it into his shoulder. The man's eyes widened from teh sudden movement; the pain yanking him back from the shelter he'd attempted to hide within. "What do you feel?" she asked again, annoyed at having to repeat her words. "I-i-i feel terrified," he whimpered. She raised an eyebrow and looked at the sun again. "Of the sun? What have you to fear the son?" He swallowed, lips trembling and trying to form words but instead only sounds came. "Oh." Of course. He was scared of her. "Not of me, you fool. Ah, forget it. You mortals spend all your lives boasting and celebrating, but are always unable to explain it when asked." Having recieved an answer from the woman, her existence had ceased to be of any importance in Lilith's eyes. The man, on the other hand, had proven to be a shriveling annoyance that she quickly dispatched of. As her sword embedded itself deeply into the man's chest, his body began to dissipate leaving nothing but ash within moments. Once more Lilith faced the sun, observing what the mortals had observed. Tracing the outline of the sun's glare, how to reflected off the water and clouds and land; she took in the hundreds of various shades spread out for hundreds of thousands of miles. After a moment she simply shook her head and walked away, her back to the sunrise. Mortals were ever irrational, drowning in delusions of nothing right up to their death. Rather than heading back toward her airship, Lilith chose to, again, attempt at imitating a mortal. It wasn't altogether difficult to act as them on the surface. Simply behave irrational, driven by things that lived only in their minds. So she took a stroll. That had been what the mortals were doing earlier, talking about the beauty of the sunrise. As she entered a particularly populated area, what mortals called a field park, there was a rush of pressure. Of power. One that'd she'd been feeling for days upon arising in Genesaris, but one that had seemed to have no origin. Or many origins. Lilith didn't move from her spot; not frozen or in fear. Interested. Despite the Marzanna voices remaining in silence, she could steal feel their wary gaze directed at a man sitting alone on a bench. The aura radiating off him was strange. Mortal but... also not. Strong, powerful energy surrounded him, emanating from him in rushing streams. Perhaps an evolved being? She just stared, wondering for only a split second before shrugging off the interest. Well, up until the moment she spotted him starting at a group of young humans. A wistful look in the man's eyes. Without regard for anything or anyone, oblivious and uncaring to the man's intentions, Lilith took a seat on the same bench. Curious. And slightly confused by his energy and his desire aimed toward the humans. "Why do you stare at them?" @King
  4. So tired. So cold. So...hungry. Bodice Brouchard Character At A Glance Full Name: Bodice Brouchard Titles, Monikers, Etc: Headmistress of Bronte Academy Home: Umbra, Genesaris Sex: Female Race: (Formerly High Elf) Mindflayer Class/Skills: Mindflayer/Warlock Orientation: Pansexual Height: 6'2 Weight: 165 Hair: None/Tentacles Skin Tone: Pale Blue Eye Color: White/Bloodshot Body Type: Recovering from undernourishment, currently gaining body mass from proper diet/exercise. Bodice is the heiress to a wealthy family of High Elven nobility, coming from a family of significant magical talent. Possessing no talent in the arcane arts herself, Bodice aspired to emulate her family's greatness by any means, striking a grim pact with a Mindflayer, a lecherous being from the depths of space, in order to manipulate those around her to suit her bidding, as well as pretend that she was adept at sorcery. This pact, in which she allowed the Mindflayer to impregnate her with a fetus that slowly developed in her mind, allowed her to wield its slowly growing psionic talents as her own, beguiling, tormenting, charming and enslaving those around her in order to advance in her career. Yet Bodice wasn't satisfied with mere control and began tormenting herself with the fetus, using it to tease out the fundamental parts of the arcane truth that she couldn't know otherwise. As a result, she passed as a competent, if deranged, sorceress, and her powers ever grew. Now, her bargains have come full circle and the lusty young newborn mindflayer finds herself striking ever more dire deals, consorting with devils and cutthroats, all while trying to maintain her position of power. Obsessed with maintaining appearances, and claiming ever more power, there's very little Bodice won't do in order to gain a foothold--here, or anywhere else. Despite not having any magical talent herself, Bodice is a resourceful, intelligent woman and before her transformation--and even after it--would use her body and status as heiress to get whatever she desired, including convincing a Mindflayer to impregnate her. With a nightmarish newborn in her head, she was able to learn the dread arts of mindflaying, and now, as a mature Mindflayer herself, is able to use those psionic abilities to their fullest extent, making her a formidable sorcerer and telepath, as well as a shrewd negotiator and seductress. Seeking to add to her strengths, Bodice has also entered into a grim pact with The Great Thing of the Pit, Azat'hel in exchange for their eldritch sorcery and know-how. Even still, she seeks greater strength.
  5. Taki No Kuni, waterfall country, is a beautiful little village. It was known as this due to the beautiful waterfalls in the middle of their forest there. It was hardly known to the outside world, since Faejarhe was just 'rediscovered' by the outside world. The natives there were quite kind, very respectful people. They weren't very open to foreigners, but they aren't rude to them. Boats would come and go slowly, they did trade a bit with the other parts of Faejarhe. Taki No Kuni could survive on it's own however, it was mostly a farming village. Weapons were hardly shown out in public, it was seen as rude if fights just randomly happened. Fighting was not condoned here. But are these people nice behind close doors?.. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The one and only 'Cookie Goddess', Anna Star arrived on the ports of Taki No Kuni. She wore an elegant dress, it was light pink at the top of the dress and to a darker pink to the bottom. There was an opening of the dress at her knees, but the back of her dress was long- it went all the way to her feet. Her wavy brunette hair bounced a bit as each step. She wore a ring on her 'wedding' finger, it was a simple band - it no longer symbolized marriage to Anna though. It was a ring of friendship, and she did adore her friendship with the certain someone. Her warm-honey brown eyes searched the port for something lovely to do. Since she was new, she did want to buy a simple little item to remember this place for later. In her hand without the ring, she held a little white bag; it contained some money and little items. Some people who worked on the boat were paid to bring Anna's bags to a little house she rented for a little while. Anna did quite the research for this place, so she bought a house for a little bit from a native. Anna, again, looked around for any merchant of some sort... @Layla_C
  6. “So what do you plan on doing with her?” A brow rose at the question that one of her subordinates allowed his curiosity to form. Luz was tired of attempting diplomacy, of caring for anyone outside of Illyrian interests. As she walked beside the hovering mechanism that now encased what she considered her burden, eyes bore hard into the form of the draconic girl that had allowed herself to lose control and nearly killed that other gangly man. She would never understand how whatever deities or forces out there thought to create such volatile power and allow someone as hotheaded and immature to wield it. Tapping the top of the metallic, portable containment unit that housed Arashi she sighed audibly. “She must be contained for our safety as much as her own though I could care less about the latter.” It would have been at least an hour since she had left her Light to endure this task and she already felt herself feel a longing to return to his side. The thought alone brought the slightest tinge of red onto her cheeks before she drowned it all with a sense of duty and irritation that she could not have the luxuries she desired. Having descended down a circular platform that hummed slightly and glowed just as brightly as the spire above them, they descended for quite a while into a subterranean facility that the Scientific Division reserved for experimentation that was far too dangerous to be seen. Magical wards coated this area with their protective magic meant more to contain than to protect from outside influence. If Arashi still held enough energy to keep herself alert and awake she would feel an overbearing sense of pressure that would make her feel sluggish and disrupt the balance of energy around her. This sensation was not reserved only for her, however, as it was clear that Luz and everyone else initiated every step and every action in reserved fashion so as not to expend too much energy. That feeling would soon subside once they entered a large chamber at the end of an long hallway. Large transparent doors infused with energy slid open to allow them all entry. In the center of the circular room was a device that seemed tethered by tubing and fixed into the floor beneath them. A planar surface marked the top of the device made of a material that seemed to move fluidly as if it could be manipulated. “Place her there and make sure she is well contained.” One of her subordinates gladly obliged, the young girl activating the opening mechanism for the metallic containment unit to attempt to manipulate Arashi to stand and lead her toward the device that now began to tilt into a vertical position in preparation. The sound of whirring and a distinct hum of energy could be heard all around them now. Luz motioned for a few other men to help the young girl, fully expecting Arashi to be resistant as was clear by her next words. “Comply dragon girl or I will be forced to make you more malleable to make sure you don’t attempt to kill anyone else.” Moving some stray silver hair from her face she crossed her arms and seemed ready to react forcefully should her subordinates be unable to lead her newest burden to her rightful place. @Flame Hero: Endeavor
  7. @King Orisia. The tropical island that was home to so many people that enjoyed the life there. Away from the technology in the other parts of the world that caused countless wars. The dragon hybrid wasn't here for the life of luxury however or some sort of retirement. No, she was here for the Fire Blade, Solarijos, the one that can create flames. At least to get herself a better weapon and to become stronger. The Crimson Dragon walked down the street in pitch-black armour that covered her whole body, tail with a black helmet. Various townspeople came to look and stare at her in absolute fear as she walked past like she was sort of feared knight. "Hey, is that?" One of the townspeople said as the watched the hybrid walk past. "No way, what is one of the Black Knights doing out here?" "You've got to be kidding me. Are they here to kill someone?" Came the voices of the local townspeople. Disgust and fear was all they knew around the supposed Black Knights of Orisia. Arashi however, didn't know what on earth they were talking about. She was heading torwards the tavern and opening the door. Inside the tavern was lively as usual, patrons going about and the bar staff serving drinks and food. Arashi went to sit at the bar, going to ask the bartender a question. "So what brings a knight like you into here?" He said with obvious fear on his face. "I'm not one of those Black Knights. I'm looking for the Fire Sword of legend. You know anything about it?" Arashi asked. "Well, no, nothing exactly...I heard there's somebody maybe in town knows however. That's just a rumor though." He said, giving a sigh of relief as Arashi explained she wasn't one of those Orisian Black Knights. "Thank you. I shall go look for this guy...but first. May I have a drink of beer?" Arashi asked, handing over the sufficient coin and well getting her drink after the bartender gave it. If only she had some degree of help to find this dratted thing... @Zashiii @Twitterpated @Meraxa @Djinn&Juice
  8. There's a clock on one wall of the Merchant's Guild in Vdara that's roughly the size of a fountain, and it has never been late, never been wrong. You could talk about how it's regularly wound by experts each night, how its frequently timed and tested, and how individual pieces are replaced long before they need to, but that information isn't necessary to know that the clock is never wrong. Because of this, nearly every transaction, interaction, check-in and check-outs are all scheduled around the clock. Things happen on time, each time the minute hand moves. The great list of incoming members rotates on the minute, and the list of folks checking out ticks every minute. One minute, her name wasn't on the list. Then, for everyone watching the board, Priscilla Arretle's name appeared on the board in the next minute. She walked away from the desk, and tucked her papers and ID into her bag. A few tufts of naturally curly brown hair strayed into her field of vision, and she brushed them aside as she glanced around. As always, the Vdara Merchant's Guild was busy, packed with the usual suspects. Vdara was home to a number of regular visitors, merchants looking to make deals, guild leaders making orders for weapons and materials. Shipments were planned here, and money changed hands often. Priscilla wasn't part of that quite yet, but she would be, soon. She casually made her way towards another desk, and made an inquiry. "Hi," She flashed a smile at the clerk. "I was in here a few days ago, and made an inquiry about the deed to an old cave. Can you see if there's any news on that, yet?" She exchanged her information with the Clerk, who opened up a ledger to check for her, then closed up the book again. "Sorry, Miss Arrettle, nothing yet." The Clerk sounded sympathetic, but they both knew it was false. "You could try again tomorrow." A minute had already passed, and Priscilla stepped away then. It wasn't worth the hassle to disrupt the clock, after all. It would take her a while to punch out, and she was already in. Instead of heading out, she took a seat on one of the various lounge chairs for a bit, in order to reconsider her situation. If they hadn't found the previous owner yet, then they likely weren't a member of the Merchant's Guild, right? Alternatively, perhaps they'd already passed? Was she looking for the wrong person? She'd had months to figure this out, and wasn't much closer to a resolution. She sat in place, and watched the names on the board for a while. A minute passed, and her name moved down, to be replaced by another name. Another minute, another name. Eventually, she'd be wiped off the board entirely.
  9. How long had it been since the Malaysia had been abducted? A week? 2 weeks? A month? 3 months? There was no grasp of time where she had been kept. It was dark and damp, and she was only fed the blood of an infant once a day. In the beginning, she had refused to feed as they walked through the door with a crying baby in their arms. She had told them that she would rather starve than harm an innocent child. Yet as the days dragged out and the punishment continued, they attempted to bleed out the vampiric angel time and time again, and eventually her innate instinct to survive forced her to feed. It was unfortunate, because since she had been captured her heightened senses were thrown off. Little did she know that her food was being laced with a type of poison, one that would dull her thinking and cause her mind to be susceptible to certain.. influences. Due to her age, her strength and bloodline, they chose this route. They knew it would be more difficult to take advantage of the Queen. Whereas the Princess was so young and had little to offer aside from torturing her parents with a potential loss of a loved one, the Imperial Goddess provided so much more to work with. Disoriented from the lack of sustenance and a constant strain of physical and mental abuse, the once strong willed Malaysia was weakened. There was not a whole lot that she could do, all she wanted was to go home and be in the arms of her husband. She wanted to kiss the forehead of her daughter and embrace her son in a hug, knowing that they were safe. Her yearning to kill and murder each and every one of these beings had fled, not due to lack of trying but more less, the lack of opportunity. Yet every time she rebelled, she was met with a sharply toned whip lash. Blood poured down her porcelain cheeks and gaping wounds down her back where her wings would be. She had not attempted to leave them out, for fear of someone trying to hack them off. That is a pain she did not wish to go through a second time. Her wounds would heal daily, and each day they would drag her out of her cell only to do it all over again. Then came the magic; it was the dark kind. The kind that threatened Anastasia’s very existence before she was born. They waited a full month before they started their preparation. They knew full well that the Underworld was not able to suppress her powers, she was much too strong for that. They had plans for Malaysia, the Queen of Vdara. How horrible would it be for the good King to come and rescue his wife, only to see her join the side of the enemy he was looking to defeat? With the return of Anastasia, it was only a matter of time before Ayden had found their lair. They had little time to play with, and as one of Xildar’s henchman walked up to Malaysia as she was strapped down to her chair, with a fencing sword in his left hand he lightly bent down to one knee while placing the other under her chin, lifting her face so that he may see those beautiful blue eyes. As blood poured from her gaping mouth, she slowly looked up to him through her disgustingly matted hair. “My Queen, are you ready?” @Ayden @Alukai
  10. A blue sky and a the kind sun beaming down on the rolling grassy hills are what Silas could consider a normal day on the farm. Peace and tranquility was bountiful, even during days of hard labor. It only made the end result more satisfying when he got to put his feet up and toe off his heavy working boots. It was a simple life, no complications really besides the uncertainty of how well the crops would grow during the off seasons. He thinks he could be happy just spending the rest of his days doing this. Sure, it wasn't anything special, but he made things happen with his own two hands, had food and a home, and most importantly, a family who loved him. But, just maybe, the smallest part of him wanted something more than this. Back to the crowded streets and the activity. It was busy, it was more than a little stressful, but it was memorable. He can recall doing the odd job here and there like a mercenary for hire. It wasn't incredibly easy getting work because of the way he looks, but the people that gave him jobs were always memorable. Especially the situation he stumbled into accidentally, becoming a bodyguard of what seemed to be a kid, a noble at that. Those days he can recall with vivid sparks of colour, running on the pavement harshly, chasing after criminals, and shielding the young man that seemed to embrace trouble like a lover. Eventually, like he always did, he had to move on in his travels. Days on the farm blur by, the same day in and day out motions of labor not giving him any sort of purpose other than to simply continue the grind. He could be happy here, he forcefully thinks this every day. He also knows that if he were a little braver though, that maybe he'd step out once more to follow the wind of adventure. It was mainly his looks and health that lead him into wishing for a more peaceful life. He remembers a time when all he had wanted was to feel content, and at peace, to not be judged and to be happy. And now, where he can finally have this, he can't decide why he even wanted it in the first place. So when Silas steps outside and sees the greyness of the sky and feels the smallest chill of approaching rain, he can feel something turn in his gut. The familiar feeling of anticipation. Something would change today. He trudges along the dirt path, gravel crunching under his feet as he moves to the rusted silver mailbox at the front of the fence. There's a pristine envelope inside free of the dirt and mess that usually comes with the farm life. It's silver in colour, the smallest of glitters embedded into it making it look like snow when he pulls it out of the mailbox and into the sunlight. He flips it over, eyes the crest melted into the seal of the royal blue wax and promptly flips the letter back over with energized expectancy. In a similar royal blue ink, he eyes the delicate cursive scrawl of his own name on the from. His eyes swivel over to the sender and he can't help but exhale out a chuckle. Fain Locke's name stares back at him like a call of the siren luring him back into a life he's so missed. He wastes no time taking the letter out and reading its contents: Dear Silas, I trust you are well. I do hope farm life is giving you the proper rest and peace you deserve and desire. I also hope however, that it might not be treating you as nice in the hopes that you would be swayed to come assist me in the city of Cradle. To put it shortly, I would like to hire you for your previous services and aid. There is dissent in the city concerning the automated security system agents and I write to you today because I know you are a person I can put my trust and safety in. I have been assigned a very important task related to the safety of the city itself. I do wish I could explain in more detail but if I have caught your attention in such a way, we may converse more about such matters later. If you are partial to being hired, I truly would appreciate your presence. Please arrive at your at your soonest convenience. I have provided a temporary C.A.R.D. inside along with travel finances to properly fund anything you might need. After you prepare your things, simply tap upon the wax crest at the end of this letter three times and transportation will be sent to pick you up. Should you wish not to join me in this endeavor, I insist you keep the payment either way and give your family my regards. Sincerely, Fain Locke P.S. Are the badgers on the farm giving you much trouble? I surely hope not, I hear they can be quite a nuisance if not taken care of quickly for the crops. Do be careful about where you tread. @Djinn&Juice
  11. Juliana Shale was dressed in what had to be the finest clothes she'd ever worn in her life. The dress itself was worth more than she'd made on her last three jobs combined, and the jewels (assuming they were the real thing) would probably fetch enough to live comfortably on for quite a while. It was a testament to her reputation that her employers trusted her not to take off with the valuables, and a testament to the generosity of their payday that she never even considered doing so. In her opulent attire, she blended right in with the society types milling about the inn foyer. She sipped wine from a crystal goblet and watched the parade of nobles. A woman with a pinched face and elaborate hair caught her eye and smiled. Juliana smiled back, thinking about the disgust that woman would feel toward her if she knew what she really was: a poor merchant's kid turned highway bandit turned high-priced expert thief. Juliana scanned the foyer. Not a face in the crowd she didn't recognize...except one. She caught it in a flash, then it disappeared into the crowd: a pale, thin face, a child's face. "You're not supposed to be here," she said under her breath. She set her goblet down on the pedestal of a marble statue and headed for where she'd last seen the stranger.
  12. Somnolent Nova @vielle Andromeda. Her name echoed within the cosmos’ immensity – it thundered at first before drowning into minuscule whispers. She was drifting, nude and seemingly vulnerable whilst the swell of galaxies carried her with ease. Even though the stars melodically voiced her name, there was something different amongst them. They were weak, starved from the essence that only Bolmjir could provide and with that sudden realization, the stars were not calling out to her out of recognition but of torment. Her stars cried out in agony, the name which she bore laced with distress amidst their broken symphonies. Andromeda had betrayed them, crossed them with her own personal vendetta. A consequence that she should have known right from the start. Being the embodiment of the cosmos herself, it was not long before she, too, felt the anguish it carried. Her chest ached and flooded with grief as she allowed the infinity to carry her, listening with a broken heart of the weeps ringing within her soul. Stars reached out to her with pleading gravities, trying their best to grasp onto any light she may hold; yet, even her own illumination grew dimmer with each and passing second. Andromeda could not move nor speak any apologies, and though her eyes were wide open, all she saw was nothing as she was soon consumed by a black hole. There was silence. How long had she been drifting? To mortals secured on their planet, it may have been simply months, probably a few years. However, for her where time was presently nonexistent, it felt like an eternity and perhaps it was – a punishment fit for a traitor of the heavens. Andromeda had been transported into the outer system beyond her will, plucked swiftly from the embrace of one she loved. Does he remember her after all this time? Or, has she been erased from history forever, only to be another tragedy written in Evalise’s grand tome? What of her proclaimed father and sister in Mageside? Was everything she had done and felt for naught? It would certainly appear that way. “Look at this pathetic nymph, brothers,” A female voice resonated in the gravitational field after a long moment. “Seems to me as though heaven Herself has turned its back on this one if it has led this traitor to our midst.” The Ultima. “Bolmjir’s eldest daughter. The one who brought shame and humility to us all,” A male’s voice this time, wails of the dead entwined with each syllable uttered. “What did you hope to achieve, little one? Your hands are stained with disloyalty and for what? To avenge that wretch’s death? You sicken me.” Andromeda knew that she should have felt fear but there was nothing. Not even a tear. “It’s a pity that we cannot crush you into the stardust you merely are, Phaerl,” Another male’s voice, gruff and evidently older. “Yet, unlike you, we will always remain loyal to Bolmjir and honour his dying wish. Your expiration has not come but we shall make sure that every moment of your life is filled with throes.” The voices agreed in unison. “She is weak, Enir. Let her be with the rest of the weaklings on that planet she has come to care for so much. We’ll be watching you, nymph.” In an abrupt moment, Andromeda was thrust out of the black hole with great force that caused her to faint instantaneously. And, whilst she accelerated back through the universes’ cries and woes, she began to cry as well in her unconscious state. She no longer drifted. Now, she was falling. -- Lush grass tickled the side of her face, kissing lightly at the tear stains that left trails down her almost translucent skin. Andromeda, still nude and vulnerable, laid in the middle of green grasslands, away from any means of nearby civilizations. She stirred, her eyes opening narrowly as she slowly came to her senses and slowly brought herself up. Well, she nearly brought herself up but with little prevail as exhaustion coursed throughout her body. Her limbs trembled, violet hair cascading over her face whilst she tried to take a gander at her surroundings; only to fall back onto the bed of grass with a tired exhale. Normally, it would have been easier for Andromeda to teleport somewhere else, somewhere safe. However, with the incredible exhaustion came with the price that whatever power she once had was now stripped away. Alone, powerless, cold – this was her predicament, presently. Channelling her sisters for aid would fail, asking the cosmoses for energy even more so. What’s worse was that she could not recall this area, the memory of it hazy as if it was all new and foreign. Was she anywhere or nowhere at all? After a long while of laying down, trying to piece together everything that had transpired with little to no victory, Andromeda tried to sit up again with irritated breaths until she finally stood. One thing that she could remember vividly was Mageside: Aignéis’ face and her father’s smile. That is where she had to go, that is where she was meant to be. Covering her nudity with delicate hands, she stumbled almost absentmindedly towards the direction where she felt home was.
  13. Waves lapped at the side of the ship, always reminding Sarah Bouchard of their journey. They were going to some city on the coast, looking for more work, more opportunities for them to win fame. Right now Sarah didn't want fame, or gold, all she wanted was one thing, and one thing only. Blood. Light from the Moon shined down upon her, high atop the midnight sky. Nausea was hitting her hard, a symptom of her hunger, her need for the scarlet lifeblood of those around her, but she had to fight it, she had to keep it at bay. "I won't let this beat me." She whispered into the nothing, leaning against the railing of the ship they were on. "I control my own destiny." Sweat trailed down from her pierced eyebrows, past the studs in her lips, and off of her chin. She had to do something, she had to find some kind of relief to this madness.
  14. Vdara Kingdom Marketplace NorthEastern Genesaris 597, Modern Era Despite telling herself that she wouldn't, the Runesmith was looking through crossbow bolts, again. The quiver on her back was empty, shamefully so, and sat in stark contrast to the heavy black-metal gunbow strapped to her back. The bolts on show weren't all that varied: you had your wooden bolts, of course, but also ones made of bronze, aluminum and even a handful of glass bolts, too. They were expensive, though, and well out of Priscilla's price range. This was why she'd been so averse to coming to this particular stand. She couldn't afford quality goods, and ought to have browsed cheaper stalls closer to the entrance of the market. But those stalls didn't have the specialized bolts the gunbow needed to fire, further adding to her dilemma. Thankfully, she didn't have to worry about wasting the vendor's time, as they were busy with another customer. This allowed her to walk away quickly, without making things awkward. She headed back the way she came. The sun was out, and it bathed the streets--and herself--in light. Vdara was every bit as beautiful as she remembered from her previous visits, but now she was returning not in trumph, but in disgrace. The familiar minishop she was so used to riding with had been gone for months now, and now, only the comforting weight of the crossbow on her back, and the knife strapped to her chest felt familiar. She was nigh unrecognizable, she realized upon passing a tall mirror on sale. Her natural hair color, that soft, cocoa-brown, was looking much healthier than when she'd started travelling to Vdara in the first place, and clothed in the thick, comfortable pirate's jacket and heavy boots she'd looted from the crash of Gehenna, she looked stronger than before, even. She didn't look the same as the woman who regularly visited Vdara and the Merchant's Guild, though. Her purple hair, and trim, effeminate appearance were gone, or at least hidden. Maybe that had something to do with why she was denied the majority of her insurance? Whether it did or not, Priscilla walked out of the Merchant's Guild less than wealthy. Worse still, nearly eighty percent of her gains were immediately handed over to the people involved in saving her. With what she had left, she'd been able to put some money into a hotel, buy some clean clothes and...that was it, really. She wasn't going to stop, though. If anything, the attempts on her life, over and over, had toughened her, and taught her a thing or two about how to stay alive, when people and animals and the environment itself desired otherwise. So, while she'd been resting in the tavern she'd holed up in, she'd come up with the idea of doing it again. Not the almost getting killed, part. The part where she didn't die while fighting things. Contract work wasn't unfamiliar anywhere within Genesaris, and loads of people made their living off of it. So, Priscilla reasoned, she could find a contract or three, and make enough money to recover her business. She passed beneath a bridge--or what it a road?--and focused on the tavern where she'd rested last night. The tavern was a classic, after all. She'd look for some hired help within, and get started before noon. She stepped inside, burying the quiet buzz of passing conversation for the louder clamor for the people within the bar, the bright sunlight for the dim candlelight of the tavern's interior, and the smell of fresh air for booze and sweat. She cringed, a bit, but pressed on, and found a spot at an empty table. And then, Priscilla waited, and watched. She didn't really know exactly who to look for, but she was confident they'd become obvious, in time.
  15. A groan escaped Samuel a he became aware. Opening his eyes, he could see a peron on the floor, speckled with the green and yellow light that filtered through the trees above. Sitting up, he nearly blacked out at the pain that flooded his temples. Where an I he thought How did I get- A faint memory whisked in front of his mind and he reached out, only grasping the edges before it was whisked away in a flurry of pain. Obviously his mind didn't have the capacity to think about that right now. Standing up, slowly as to not irritate his brain further, he walked and grasp the trunk of a tree. It's rough, lichen laden bark was unfamiliar to him; being from a large city hadn't given him the privileges of nature; but the earthy smell emanating from it comforted him, reminding him that he was alive and indeed in the real world. Sliding down, he wriggled over the roots, trying to find a comfortable seat among them. He was surprised to see how dirty he was; his peach jacket and black pants hadn't held up too well to whatever handling that had brought him to this place; however he didn't mind, at least whoever had brought him here hadn't killed him. Upon habit, he slid his hands into his pockets, the warmth of his thighs heating his hands. It was colder than he like, 65 degrees at the most, and the heat was welcome. Flipping his hands over to warm the other side, he felt a paper in his right pocket, and upon pulling it out, blackout again. It all came back to him when he read the slip: Phase One Initiated: The Camp Subject: Telekinetic @AngryCacti
  16. "Have you decided on a name yet, Your Highness?" Sabine sat on a stone bench, her armor glinting in the light. It was one of the rare times she was at ease. There was a tenderness in her voice, for she was a loyal Knight and Imperator to Princess Raveena. Raveena walked casually, swathed in pale silks that draped her pregnant belly agreeably. She looked right at home in the Imperial Gardens of Umbra, the way the sun shone through the leaves, the gentle sway of the flowers--this seemed to echo in the very way Raveena moved. Sabine watched her Queen carefully, though the grin never left her. Motherhood suited her just fine, she decided. She wanted to think it was strange, knowing that Raveena had ascended to a higher state of being and yet--this avatar--whatever one would call it--seemed to human and sweet. "Everett," Raveena replied with laughter and smiles in her voices, "My brave little prince. My wild beast." She paused long enough to cradle a drooping flower between her palms. She whispered lilting, encouraging words in a language Sabine did not pretend to understand--it certainly wasn't any Vaa'denian she had picked up. While Raveena was a Terran citizen, her origins were from a whole other somewhere else entirely. Sabine felt very plain and boring by comparison. She missed Efrideet--and had hardly given up on her quest for vengeance. Raveena needed her now more than ever with Efrideet dead and Rowan in a coma. Prince Grant was still lamenting his failures in the wake of Hyperion's destruction. "Your son will be well loved, Your Highness. A new Imperial heir gives the people hope that--." She paused abruptly. She knew better than to speak his name. The Moon God had been cast out for killing his brother. Angry that his siblings turned on him, he was set to destroy the Hyperian Empire no matter the cost. Sabine thought back to Rowan's catatonic state and the demonic creatures from his world that attacked them. The God himself attempted to smite Rowan but Raveena had chosen to accept her mantle as Goddess of the Red Plane to even the playing field. Now an all out war between the gods and their champions was set to begin. The fate of the empire rest on who would come out as the victor. "I know," Raveena replied softly, sadly. The sun god--foolish oaf he could be, had done many great and terrible things to her through the course of her life. And yet...yet, she missed him. "He will carry and unfortunate burden. Be brave, my heart." She cradled her pregnant belly and began another circuit around the cut out. Just out of view, a retinue of the Daughters of Thaus and the Enforcers patrolled and waited patiently. Their life was to their ruler. Sabine rose to join Raveena, who casually opted to take to the main path again. Raveena tried to walk side by side with the Lady, but Sabine--by her own virtue--always remained flanked out of respect to Raveena's station in Umbra and beyond. "I'd like a hatchery," Raveena spoke suddenly, her attention admiring the flora. She would stop sometimes and read the signs, cross to the other side. She would tend to the dying or dead with encouraging words, and praise the living. "Pardon, Your Highess?" Sabine was startled by the sudden thought. "A hatchery? Here?" "In Hyperion. I will draw up the plans for it. I'll be damned if the South is going to wipe out one of Genesaris' oldest creatures. Oh?" She paused--though this was not to admire any plant or flower. Sabine recognized the look that Raveena sensed something. The Chimera gene was still strong in her, and she perhaps could smell something--maybe even see or feel something that the Lady Knight could not. "We are not alone." Raveena turned to glance at Sabine serenely, "This requires strict decorum. Five paces behind me, do not look nor acknowledge them unless you are given permission to." She returned her to leisurely stroll through the gardens, and Sabine grinned wolfishly before falling in line and assuming the part of of armed escort. "At once Your Highness." The Emperor's Paramour was here. @The Hummingbird
  17. “Hurry up Matti, you don’t want to be late!” Her mother called out to her from the kitchen, where she finished putting together a special breakfast for her going away to boarding school. She still could not fathom how her parents found the money to get her into a proper school, but they did and now she was going away. Standing in front of the mirror, she did all she could to control her unruly hair and made sure her blouse remained free of wrinkles and her knee length skirt smooth. She felt nervous, nervous about leaving and about having to meet new people and make new friends. Her mother assured her that everything would go well, but she still felt a little scared. After one more glance in the mirror and yet another fruitless attempt to tame her wild hair, Matti slowly trudges from her room to the kitchen, where her mother stands over the stove, warming a pot of porridge seasoned with real shredded fruit—a rare treat for their home. To say they were poor would be to gloss over their state of affairs with a generic paintbrush, missing the finer details that made up the picture of their home life. Both her parents worked more than twelve hours a day, six days a week, making a pittance at some factory in the middle of the district. This left her and her brother on their own, with her responsible for seeing him to and from school and keeping him out of trouble. Now that he was nine, her parents said he ought to be able to handle watching out for himself while they gave her the “opportunity of a lifetime”.   “There she is. My, you look lovely. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.” Her mother’s smile is drawn and obviously forced, just the hint of sadness blended in. Her stepfather sat at the table, waiting for breakfast while he oiled his tools he used at work. He spoke little as is and even less so toward Matti, he and she never forming much of a relationship at all. Not to say that they fought or felt mutual dislike or anything of that nature, but rather they simply existed near each other without taking interest in getting more familiar than they were. Matti stayed quiet out of shyness and the hope of going unnoticed, he remained so out of what seemed a disinterest in most everyday interactions. He spoke somewhat with her brother, his actual son, but even then, their interactions were far less than what tended to be “normal”.   Her stepfather looks up from his work and glances at her appraisingly, looking at her for a second or two longer than he normally bothered, although he still failed to make eye contact and ended in the same bored way he had any other time he acknowledged her existence. It surprised Matti that a man so indifferent to her took strides with her that they afford her a better opportunity than most other children in the slums ever had. Though Mezthaluen mandated that all children be given some education, the schools in their area hardly resembled schools at all, filled with up to fifty kids in each classroom and short of supplies or motivated educators- it was a small wonder that any of them ever learned anything at all.   “Moooom, I’m hungry!”   Her brother came in just after her; he still dressed in his undershirt and a pair of shorts, hair in a bigger mess than hers and sleepiness still in his eyes. He stumbles into the room and sits at the table, getting not so much as a glance from the man who headed their home, he reserving his words for when he thought it pertinent to speak. Matti sat in the seat beside the boy, smoothing down his tousled hair with her left hand while her mother dished up bowls of the steaming food. Though porridge itself become a regular staple in their morning meals, the smell of spiced apples and plums made the dish seem entirely new and exotic, a mouthwatering delight she might not see again for years. “Leave my hair alone Matti, I gotta eat!”   Her mother no sooner put a bowl in front of him before he swatted away her attempts to smooth out his mess he called hair, finding herself still trying to take care of her younger brother despite leaving in the next hour or so. Withdrawing her hand slowly, she realizes just how much she would miss taking care of him, even if he could be a real pain sometimes. Though he often teased her and seemed to go out of his way to give her trouble, he still relied on her and made her feel important. For all his complaints, he even occasionally thanked her for her help and on one occasion admitted his appreciation. She wondered how he really felt about her leaving- well, at least how he might feel after he eats, since that boy never thought of much else when food was on his mind. “Be nice to your sister Thumos, she’s leaving today, remember?” Her mother chides the boy gently, seeming to use her trip as leverage to get the boy to act a little more cordially in their final morning as a complete family. Thumos does not respond with words, but instead glances up quickly before shoveling food back into his mouth like it were going to disappear any moment now. Matti chose to relish the meal instead, eating in slow measured bites. It allowed her to enjoy it more while avoiding upsetting her already mercurial stomach. Her nervousness seemed more like “butterflies in the tummy”, but instead like a swarm of hornets had built a nest somewhere in there, if only they had the room. Matti was decently tall for her age, but she never seemed to fill in, always slightly built and waifish. Her mother used to joke that a strong wind might someday take her away.   It takes an extra effort, but she does eat the entirety of her bowl, leaving nothing for her vulture of a brother lingering nearby, hoping to get leftovers. Thumos sighs in disappointment when she hands the empty bowl over to her mother to go wash. Her stepfather finished his food at some point as well, but like with everything he did, he completed the meal silently. Matti assumed he would remain silent the rest of their brief time together, but he surprised her when he spoke.   “Mind yourself and do what you’re told. Things will be better that way.” Matti glances up surprised at the man she barely knew, the statement amongst the longest he ever said to her. In doing so, she missed the nearly alarmed expression her mother made, one that disappeared as Matti gave an earnest response in her quiet way. “Yes sir. I’ll mind.” This seems to satisfy him enough, the man only maintaining eye contact for a few more seconds before excusing himself from the table, leaving for his and her mother’s room, likely getting whatever else he needed for work. Matti too gets up from the table, making sure once again that her clothes looked neat and proper, taking to heart what she once heard from a teacher at school.   First impressions mean most in this world.   She certainly did not want to give her new schoolmates and teachers the impression that she was some poor kid who planned to squander her rare opportunity. Her conscientiousness seemed to please her mother, so Matti assumed she did the right thing in making sure she came off as a proper young woman. Her carefulness nearly went all for naught when her brother, still wearing nearly a fourth of his breakfast, attempts to lunge at her with his arms held wide. She just barely manages to get out of the way.   “Thumos, you’re filthy!” “But I want a hug Matti. Are you sure you gotta go? School is sooo boring anyway. Who’s going to take me to go play while you’re gone?”   Matti could not help but smile, the feeling of being appreciated- and wanted- something she only got in the smallest doses.   “Oh, you’ll be fine, you and your friends are plenty good at keeping busy. I’m going to go learn about the important things, and then someday I’ll open up a real shop and take all of you away from here.” Thumos smiles at this. “Really? I want to see the business district! Some say they sell fresh food right on the streets, right in the open. How crazy is that?” Matti smiles and nods, but just before she answers, she catches a glimpse of her mother, looking sadder than before, the woman turning away just before tears rolled onto her cheeks. Matti waves of her brother and walks over to her mother, giving her a tight hug. “Don’t worry mom, I’ll visit as soon as I can.” Her mother, looking off into the distance, does not answer for a long moment. Finally, in a voice of resignation, she says, “I’m sure you will. I’m sure you will.” Before anything else can be said, a sharp knock comes from the front door. 
  18. Players: @Aleksei @Alexei @danzilla3 @Garion @Grizzly @Grubbistch @EpicRome23 @Maverick Posting Time: 3/days - absolutely no exceptions.
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