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Found 31 results

  1. D1E Location: The Golden Coast, Brummagen Bay Brief: Mission from Proteus and Hunter’s Association has hired Grenseal to find the missing Highwind as well as search for any clues regarding Gaereth Kain’s disappearance. Item: The Highwind The lance was built for a legendary warrior of the Proteus Merchant Guard, Gaereth Kain. Renowned for hunting dragons and other winged monstrosities, Gaereth disappeared on a mission, never to be seen again. The lance was designed to be ridden by the user whilst airborne to further increase it's devastating descent. Rumors of a schematic that added airborne missiles and bombs have hovered around Proetus Enterprises for years, but nothing has ever been found. Characters: Grenseal, [Open Slot], [Open Slot]
  2. Treason is not something that is birthed overnight. Like anything worth doing well, it demands time, patience and (above all else) discretion. The Blood of the Light began as little more than a cult of personality, centered around the High Mason, Ocelot Royce, and devoted to seeing his agenda established throughout all of Alterion. It was a subtle shift in power, with the elder Masons more entrenched in religious dogma relocated to outer territories. The militant figures within the Masonry already stood steadfast with Ocelot, many having served alongside him during the ork wars. Winning them to a cause that shone a deific light upon proved a simple task and with the faith militant at their back the Blood of the Light soon found themselves the Majority within the halls of the Cathedral. It was worth noting that the Masons had not been worth serving for several decades before Ocelot came along. Their devotion to religious dogma gave way to the greed and corruption typical of those so accustomed to power that they couldn't fathom losing it. His rise to power merely brought the corruption to light. It occurred without warning, absent the pomp and circumstance accustomed to most happenings within the Cathedral. At no particular hour of no particular day, the Crystal spoke and all of Riva’s children felt it in their bones. Word spread from within the house the Masons built as far as the remote Izrali hovels that a terrible creature of staggeringly impossible dimensions eclipsed the sun and darkened the sky for a full minute before disappearing into the Skar. In that brief span of time, nations rose and fell; those territories considering rebellion against the Masons either committed to the Church or made ready for a fight of biblical proportions. With the ‘end of days’ having come and gone, the Masons found their stranglehold over the Alterion populace, a far more precarious grip than anticipated. Viktus Gallin, heir apparent to Ocelot Royce and formerly a figure in open rebellion against the Masons was welcomed by the Blood of the Light as their messiah—for he, amongst all others, had been hand picked by Ocelot as his successor. The schism within the church was only further complicated by Viktus’ reappearance within the Cathedral —many of the clergy having called for his execution only a short time ago. At the very least Viktus’ rise to power was no less controversial than that of his foster father’s own. Now in a position to seize the throne,Viktus and his allies seek to oust the church of any traitors have begun to ‘purge the heretics’ from their ranks. The blood of traitors must feed the earth.
  3. "To those who loved this world once before... And spent time with its friends... Gather again and devote your time..." •The Fall of Cosanastre• act 1 scenario for bloodshed Previously in Alterion… When Ocelot Royce seized control of Alterion and declared himself High Mason, he maintained a relatively rocky relationship with his Provincial Regents. Some were outright replaced while others were permitted to keep their positions in exchange for increased tax rates. Several years passed and the Regents, while hostile behind closed doors, were openly unified in their support of Ocelot’s regime. During the King’s Feast an unknown faction executed a failed coup in an attempt on Ocelot’s life. As a result, Richter Grievous, Ocelot’s High Marshall and the First Sword of Alterion, was bewitched and later abducted after cutting his way through most of the Cathedrals security detail. His whereabouts remain unknown. Seeking insight, Ocelot entered his throne room to commune with the Crystal and has yet to return. In the months that followed, the Regents grew bold and began decreasing their tithes to the Masonry. Tensions mounted even further after a command was issued by Ocelot’s heir, Viktus Gallin , ordering the Regents to present themselves at the Capitol City. In response to this slight, and believing the Regents to be behind the attempted coup , Viktus has rallied an army to bring the Regents to justice and unite his home land. The Masons however are hesitant to dedicate themselves to an internal conflict and offer only neutrality in the war to come. .oO(This thread will serve as a running update. We will do our best to keep it current and list any note-worthy changes that occur plot-wise. We will attempt to keep an up-to-date Dramatis Personae and Newsfeed. Should you see your character or something missing, message Me (Paradigm) and let me know. I may not have seen the character/occurrence or may have forgotten about it.) [The Fall of Cosanastre] Reise, Reise [Pt 1] The Raid of Heider’s Tower: Stone Cold Stuntin’ [Pt 2] —— [Pt 3] —— —Setroth Province, Cosanastre static locale; the entirety of the thread will take place within the locale Setroth Province OOC Notes RP SPECS Type | adventure; horror; science fantasy; space fantasy Classification | collaborative; canon Combat | PvE--NPC Dice System(suggestion); PvP--T1 Story Dramatis Personae Viktus Gallin Proteus Rauz ‘The Bull’ (aka Dom) Status Type | Open Activity | Semi-Active; 1-2 posts a week Limit | 72 hrs; subject to change pending # of players GM | paradigm; subject to change pending conversations SYNOPSIS Now... In the wake of the Kings Feast and the attack on the partygoers, High Marshall Richter Grievous disappeared and Ocelot went into his throne room and never returned. He remains cloistered in there and is non responsive to all the Masons. Thus, Viktus, his current heir has petitioned the Masons to call the Regents in to swear fealty but none have responded. In response to this sleight and to unify his homeland, Viktus Gallin raises an army and moves to march on the provinces. Setting his sights on Setroth, Viktus prepares to contend with the powerful Tyndall family in a bid for control over the province. layout credit | paradigm
  4. Cosanastre faced certain destruction. Well, not entirely, but Arch Mason Baert considered the great empire to be on the rain slick precipice of destruction, which was equally alarming. Whilst the Champions of the King’s Feast struggled with the necrotic beast, a coup was in the works. How many times had Baert warned the High Mason not to trust that half-breed. Regardless of his history, Richter Grievous still bore Renovatian blood. And allies or no, Renovatians (or any foreigner for that matter) could never truly feel the Crystal’s light within them. It was only a matter of time before Grievous betrayed them—the filthy mercenary. Many within the faith questioned the High Mason's decision in placing an outsider in such a favored position.Then again, Ocelot Royce was not a typical High Mason, hence his survival of the attempted coup. Baert was not present to witness Grievous’ attempt on the High Masons life, but it reports indicated that the First Sword cut his way through entire contingent of Poor Sons, a team of Justicar Inquisitors and a RioT First Class operative just to reach his target. How the High Mason and his guests managed to survive eluded him, but rumor held that Ocelot himself rammed a blade into Grievous' chest and that the Heretic vanished in a cloud of smoke. With his whereabouts unknown, Richter Grievous became a severe liability for all of Cosanastre. The Order of the Valiant Sky still served them under the direction of their Vice-Commander and the Minister of War, Vortian Cross. Could they be trusted? After his run in with Grievous, the High Mason locked himself in his throne room to commune with the Crystal and never returned. Baert himself tried lifting the alchemic sigils that barred entry, but it proved a fool's errand. There was no reason to believe the High Mason dead, given that the barriers held firm Ocelot was likely alive. The Masons, however, were bereft of a High Mason and the Daius Syndicate was absent its High King. Protocol dictated that Ocelot's heir take control in the event of his death, but the High Mason was in perfect health and within the Cathedral...the Masons...Baert...none of them possessed the legal authority to supplant Ocelot's position without risking excommunication. The entire debacle turned the Arch Mason's stomach. So it was that Baert stared down Viktus Gallin. Several long moments passed before Baert finally spoke, feeling his own gaze waver beneath the youth's intense glare. "As I said earlier, Lord Gallin, The Church cannot support your actions, but we will not condemn them." The youth said nothing, prompting Baert to continue after a pregnant pause. "The failure of the Regents to respond to your summons is not considered actionable by the clergy." "The High Mason would have their heads on spikes for failing to rally when called." Baert bit back the desire to remind young Gallin that he was not the High Mason and continued. "I do not disagree, but We have no legal authority to revoke Regencies. Even upon failure to pay their tax, a Regent cannot be removed without the High Mason's express consent." "You speak for the Church in Lot's absence, yes?" Viktus asked with some vehemence. "I do." The arch mason said, giving a nod of his head. "I can only command the Military in matters of public and national safety. In this case, control of the Military reverts to the High Marshall--the Heretic Grievous, and in his absence the Minister of War, Vortian Cross--who cannot be reached at this moment. Thus, we cannot authorize the Poor Sons or the Justicar to assist you. Perhaps the Daius Syndicate..." Viktus cut this suggestion short with a scoff. "Daius is no more prepared for Lot's absence than you people are. Nobody is willing to initiate proceedings as long as the possibility remains that he is alive." "He is alive, my prince." Baert insisted. "I know," Viktus snapped. "However, in his absence I should be named Regent of Cosanastre, at least in the interim. Once Lot returns from prayer I'll return to my post at Kageroth Academy, but this is mine by right. Ocelot named me his heir, he charged me with protecting Cosanastre in his absence...I believe Ocelot knew something like this was going to happen." Baert sniffed and sighed. This was going nowhere, but perhaps there existed a happy middle ground that solved two problems at once. Perhaps not quite killing two birds with one stone, but certainly taking them out of the sky for a while. "Your Grace, why not utilize the Order of the Valiant Sky. They are contracted to the Imperial Family, not through the Church or the Daius." Viktus pondered this for a moment. "They'd have the equipment I need, if nothing else." The broad youth steepled his fingers beneath the bridge of his brow and sighed. "Very well, if the Church will not sanction this endeavor then I must undertake it of my own accord."
  5. Cosanastre, the Holy City--Riva's pride and joy. It has stood for a thousand years, seen the rise and fall of Kings. Today it just may see something remarkable. The streets had been cleared, notices had been posted, every creature on the Alterian continent had been collected, and the Daius R&D lab raided for some new ones. At long last the time arrived to start the Feast. Gamblers, seekers of fortune, Regents and nobility alike, took refuge in the Cathedral overlooking the massive sector. The Lessers and those souls not fortunate enough to compete in the hunt or the games watched from crystal screens across the nation. The streets of sector 0 were empty, as were the rooftops. The hunters were afforded full scope of the city in their battle against the beasts. Each Hunter was individually greeted by a representative of the High Mason and afforded a prayer, blessing and any last requests they may have before the bloodshed began. As dawn began to fall over the city, streetlamps and spotlights flared to life—birthing a city of lights that shined brighter in the dawn of the morning than the stars against the midnight sky. Members of the legendary Hunters association stalked the city prepared to keep the peace, if necessary, while the Poor Sons and Justices guarded the elite and more fiscally minded individuals. A bare speck on the vast backdrop of the blood red sky moved atop the cathedral. The High Mason, garbed in ceremonial robes of ebon and crimson raised his arms towards the heavens and the Crystal’s light filled the city, projecting not only his voice—but an image of its chosen vessel above the city for all of Cosanastre to see. “My children,” Ocelot’s voice intoned. “It is a most auspicious day, for today we celebrate the King’s Feast! That fateful day when our Savior Riva rose up and liberated Alterion from the clutches of a tyrannical despot. Today we Feast and today we hunt in honor, not only of her bravery and sacrifice, but those of her followers and most especially of those innocent viciously murdered by the mad Winter King. This is a day where we remember the dead. We wish them well in the afterlife, for we know they are safeguarded by the light of the Crystal—that eternal beacon in the vast darkness of Xaengri-La. This is a day where we give thanks. We acknowledge the blessings poured upon by the Crystal and we Feast to remember the first supper celebrated by the Masonress and her burgeoning church. This is a day where we celebrate joy. The joy of living, the thrill of the hunt. The promise of gifts, prizes and the merriment of food, drink and togetherness. This is a historic day, my children. Today you may die, and the Crystal will guard you through that bleak night. Today you will struggle, you will toil against beast, monster, Demon and machine. But, above all else, today you will meet your destiny. You will face the darkness and know that the light of the Crystal shines upon you. May the light of the Crystal always find you...and let the King’s Feast begin.” On cue, carriages and cages opened across the city, flooding the streets with a variety of aberrations and monstrosities. The various waiting areas where the hunters had been corralled opened up, providing them access to the now wild Sector. The King’s Feast has officially begun. Original Art Credit OOC Notes RP SPECS Type | adventure; horror; science fantasy Classification | collaborative; canon event Combat | PvE—NPC Dice System; PvP—Disallowed Dramatis Personae Status Type | Open Activity | Semi-Active; 1-2 posts a weekminimum Limit | 72 hrs; subject to change pending # of players* GM | paradigm; subject to change pending conversations SYNOPSIS The King's Feast has officially begun. This thread represents the Southern section of Sector 0. Remember that the Sector's of Cosanastre are so massive that they are Mega-Cities unto themselves and walled off from one another. Posting may now begin. Happy Hunting. ...there's blood on the horizon. layout credit | paradigm
  6. dvsn

    • Zero.

    espite Novi-cide's diffident ways their calculated chronology of operations reflected in the past, considered in the present, and wholly significant for the future meant that working together was essential. The process of distributing the assignments fairly among the company's elite was a serendipitous one. Once Omni-cide came to understand their strengths that simultaneously overlapped their preexisting weaknesses it was simply a matter of execution. Accessing limitless clouds of information gunmetal eyes queued access to caches of what would otherwise be forbidden knowledge, using his access governed by Ilos to break any shackles meant to keep prodding eyes at bay. For hours this had continued, spreadsheets, coding menu's of various languages, real-time plug-ins meant to covertly monitor and protect Babel Corporation, and a question that lingered at the back of his mind. Their field experience was unrivaled, any who bore the name PHOBIA strove to match their excellence, but this was their first time operating in Alterion since the disappearance of Exus Prime and their mysterious relocation. Since then, Novicide, one of the youngest but most respected of -Cide, had changed. Why? The hue of her psychomatic as per the persona analysis generator hadn't changed. A test they were required to conduct annually, a test that changed as per rank and demand. It was before their critical meeting that he then came to realize something important. “Why?” Rize stared in contempt. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Some days had past. The truth is that everyone in Babel Corporation moved to their own beat: as long as they each accomplished their objectives at the proper subsequent times then coordination was never an issue. The subtle mental connection between each of them via ULTIMA Cells made sure they were aware of each other's actions; and for those who bothered, antiquated logs of their movements and actions were documented and stored in the nexus of Ilos' limitless information cloud. This meant without notice, that Rize had already departed and made for Cosanastre before Novi-cide was approached just after their meeting. In his mind there were questions, questions he intended to unravel as they completed their objectives, but Babel was the worst place to ask her. Not only did he calculate that he wouldn't receive an answer where the limitless eyes hidden behind every wall documented their every move (outside of their own private residences), but their particular purpose one of the hardest of all those assigned individually. Residing in Lessertown (particularly an inn called the Rusty Nail) meant Rize had to step out of character. Already for the three days he had scoped Sector Eight he'd come to realize that they were facing a worrisome quandary. If their infiltration was to be half as smooth as Rize had predicted, he had to avoid the local gangs and slum lords until they were gathered and made for the more important Sectors beyond. So far that had proved to be a chore. Already he'd killed fourty-eight, and of the twelve bodies that remained on the streets only two weren't dismembered and strewn all over the place. Some would surmise that a beast was the only explanation, but no one cared enough to actually investigate the matter. Lessertown was a world where the weak died and the strong ruled the sweaty backstreets of rusted iron and blood-covered stone. Somewhere along the outskirts he found himself relaxing on the very same chair he usually sat in back in his own laboratory. He had Jakov to thank for that. After traveling with him to Cosanastre he had disappeared to await on standby until it was time to act: and suffice to say he was likely engaging his intellect in one of the many famous libraries in Alterion. Dusk approached. Rize peered out of the boxed metal window, small but enough to see the sky somewhere above. “This inn sucks. I might have to leave them a gift on the way out...” Omni-cide grimaced, his nefarious grin an odd response to his distaste of the run down establishment. A tingling tickled the back of his neck, behind his skin, somewhere near his cerebral cortex. “She's close...”
  7. 'Soap's got jokes you know? Something that will indefinitely make me either die? Or if I am successful I will perish some how.. On the bright side.. New toys woohoo' So do I squeeze it or hold on to it? @-Lilium- From random biting rains to the city of Cosanatre; Halvar was not one who was up for cloudy ass nights that led to boring ass mornings in the land of Alterion. Apart of him missed getting his back side handed to himself by Soap on the cliff edge. Halvar was here for two things and the first were the toys he wanted to obtain in order to get stronger and add to his own arsenal. What would be given to him he didn't know, after all the Child Soldier life was one of unfamiliar waters and lots of blood shed. Checking his PDA he looked over the name that had popped up on the water proof screen. Lilium Concordia the Head of Scientific Research and Production. Her location would be the Daius Industries no doubt, one of the few places in which the woman should in fact be working. The confidential data about her assignment made his finger tips tingle with nostalgia. The feeling of cold metal against his skin made his heart stir with ambition. "I wonder if she is a nice woman..? Perhaps this will be enough?" Raising a brow the young lad had several cards laying in his pocket stocked to the max with funds. Slipping the cards through the fingers of his left hand, Halvar wrinkled his nose as he inhaled the damp air. The sound of rain pattered across the gun steel pavement. His combat boots gently scratched the ground with their steel bound fashion. Looking left and right the lad was smart enough to keep his Aegis armor suit on stand by beneath his clothing. Keeping the layers compressed into a single body strip of hexagons. Curling his toes lightly the lad sauntered through the drizzling rain slowly pattered off of the black hoodie that he wore. Instead of shorts he wore cargo pants this time, allowing him some protection from the elements. There were no weapons on his person luckily, he would not bother going in armed at all. Looking up at the large tower he had no doubt it went super far below ground as well. Stepping up to the doors the Poor Sons gazed at the child with a bit skeptical appeal. A plain expression remained on Halvar's face as crimson eyes gazed at the door and blue luminescent light bulbs. Shoving the door open he quickly tapped the bell at the counter. "Excuse me.. I would like to speak with Lilium Concordia..?" His only request set the man aback lightly; yet he slowly called the number down slowly. "Dr. Concordia you have a guest.. Please come up.."
  8. Cosanastre, the Holy City--Riva's pride and joy. It has stood for a thousand years, seen the rise and fall of Kings. Today it just may see something remarkable. The streets had been cleared, notices had been posted, every creature on the Alterian continent had been collected, and the Daius R&D lab raided for some new ones. At long last the time arrived to start the Feast. Gamblers, seekers of fortune, Regents and nobility alike, took refuge in the Cathedral overlooking the massive sector. The Lessers and those souls not fortunate enough to compete in the hunt or the games watched from crystal screens across the nation. The streets of sector 0 were empty, as were the rooftops. The hunters were afforded full scope of the city in their battle against the beasts. Each Hunter was individually greeted by a representative of the High Mason and afforded a prayer, blessing and any last requests they may have before the bloodshed began. As dawn began to fall over the city, streetlamps and spotlights flared to life—birthing a city of lights that shined brighter in the dawn of the morning than the stars against the midnight sky. Members of the legendary Hunters association stalked the city prepared to keep the peace, if necessary, while the Poor Sons and Justices guarded the elite and more fiscally minded individuals. A bare speck on the vast backdrop of the blood red sky moved atop the cathedral. The High Mason, garbed in ceremonial robes of ebon and crimson raised his arms towards the heavens and the Crystal’s light filled the city, projecting not only his voice—but an image of its chosen vessel above the city for all of Cosanastre to see. “My children,” Ocelot’s voice intoned. “It is a most auspicious day, for today we celebrate the King’s Feast! That fateful day when our Savior Riva rose up and liberated Alterion from the clutches of a tyrannical despot. Today we Feast and today we hunt in honor, not only of her bravery and sacrifice, but those of her followers and most especially of those innocent viciously murdered by the mad Winter King. This is a day where we remember the dead. We wish them well in the afterlife, for we know they are safeguarded by the light of the Crystal—that eternal beacon in the vast darkness of Xaengri-La. This is a day where we give thanks. We acknowledge the blessings poured upon by the Crystal and we Feast to remember the first supper celebrated by the Masonress and her burgeoning church. This is a day where we celebrate joy. The joy of living, the thrill of the hunt. The promise of gifts, prizes and the merriment of food, drink and togetherness. This is a historic day, my children. Today you may die, and the Crystal will guard you through that bleak night. Today you will struggle, you will toil against beast, monster, Demon and machine. But, above all else, today you will meet your destiny. You will face the darkness and know that the light of the Crystal shines upon you. May the light of the Crystal always find you...and let the King’s Feast begin.” On cue, carriages and cages opened across the city, flooding the streets with a variety of aberrations and monstrosities. The various waiting areas where the hunters had been corralled opened up, providing them access to the now wild Sector. The King’s Feast has officially begun. Original Art Credit OOC Notes RP SPECS Type | adventure; horror; science fantasy Classification | collaborative; canon event Combat | PvE—NPC Dice System; PvP—Disallowed Dramatis Personae Status Type | Open Activity | Active; 1 post a day minimum Limit | 24 hrs; subject to change pending # of players* GM | paradigm; subject to change pending conversations SYNOPSIS The King's Feast has officially begun. This thread represents the Northern section of Sector 0. Remember that the Sector's of Cosanastre are so massive that they are Mega-Cities unto themselves and walled off from one another. Posting may now begin. Happy Hunting. ...there's blood on the horizon. layout credit | paradigm
  9. paradigm

    a raucous RioT

    Daius Tower; Cosanastre Dynamic Locale; subject to change pending plot progression. OOC Notes RP SPECS Type | adventure; horror; science fantasy Classification | collaborative; canon Combat | PvE—NPC Dice System; T1-Story Collab PvP—Dice System; T1 Story Collab Dramatis Personae Aleksandre Starfall Status Type | Open Activity | Active; 1 posts every 3 days Limit | 72 hrs; subject to change pending # of players* GM | paradigm; subject to change pending conversations Many people look to Cosanastre and find the seat of power within the Cathedral. While the idea is not entirely far fetched, it is erroneous—nonetheless. What the ignorant majority do not know, simply because they choose not to look, is that the real power broker in Cosanastre resides in the tallest building in Alterion. Daius HQ towers over the surrounding skyscrapers, a parent stood up against their toddler. Even the grandest of these structures, the Cathedral included barely reaches a third of the Daius’ height—so massive is this monolith. The CEO and majority shareholder, Ocelot Royce rarely visited anymore, but his office is kept immaculate at all times waiting for him or one of his many doppelgängers to inhabit. The Daius Syndicate committed many atrocities in order to achieve this success, none of which could have been possible without their greatest creation—the RioT Program. In many ways, RioT is simultaneously the pinnacle of Daius achievement and it’s most disgraceful failure. The elite branch of super soldiers that now served at Ocelot Royce’s pleasure grew with every passing day but so too did the body count of those poor souls whose physiques were not compatible with the infusion process. The Crystal infusion process is the key to their strength, but it—much like the job itself, is not for everyone. The very fortunate, those of sound body but were mentally squeamish, merely suffered debilitating migraines that were said to fade within a few years. Those poor unfortunate souls defunct of both body and mental acuity were often left as twisted monstrous creatures. Starfall, not for the first time, thanks Riva that he had the hutzpah to enter the ranks of RioT. Of the hundreds of thousands that poured in hoping to join RioT, only a few hundred will ever join its ranks and of that only a handful will ever earn the First Class designation that Starfall bears. No, ‘earn’ isn’t the right word. You earned entry into RioT, but you took that ‘First Class’ designation. It can only be attained by reaching and grasping with your own two hands, and even then it will prove a fruitless struggle for most. Starfall is not being immodest when he thinks on his fame, of the children in Alterion who utter his name in loud hopeful tones. Who pretend to stand alongside him in his conquests. No, there is a modesty behind his amber stained eyes. He often hears people refer to the Firsts as the cream rising to the top, but it is more akin to those sea creatures that feast upon their siblings in the womb. You have to stay hungry to survive. He stands atop the ruins of an abandoned kingdom, and yet he resides within Daius Syndicate walls. The state of the art training facility bends time and space to allow the best of the best, flex as they will—or rather it does it’s best. For no matter how realistic the scenery, the sights and sounds, it cannot mimic the scent of the surrounding forest overrunning the ruins. It cannot truly mimic the warmth of the sun...and it can never truly remove that pungent aroma of chemical cleaner. Starfall places a gloved hand to the bridge of his nose and sighs. He does not desire to test his metal against a simulation today, since that occurrence he only seeks to grow in strength not to remain stagnant. Whatever that strange grinning man did, altered Iskander. He still possessed the alteria, he can still commune with its spirit, but now it feels much the same as the other Zodiak spirits he has seen. Like the ghost of a long dead hero, not the man himself. Starfall grows quiet in his musings. If there is no power lost then there is nothing to fret, yet he is still troubled. The Divine Machine, unique amongst the Zodiaks for its independence and true sentience now felt much the same as the others. “Fitting,” he muses aloud, studying the digitally generated flora. “Wounded pride.”
  10. There were no lights on in the bedroom of the modest second story apartment, the only illumination provided by what light filtered in through the half drawn curtains facing the street. If one did not know what was currently happening in the room would assume that it was a scene of tranquility, a woman slumbering peacefully in her bed. But if one looked further they would see evidence of the truth in the bottles of pills on the nightstand, and the cane used to support the beds occupant. Another figure sat in a chair close to the woman's bedside without moving, looking on in silence as it watched the woman sleep. The uneasy stasis of the room when the door to the bedroom opened and a man walked in and turned on the light on the ceiling. The mans eyes moved first to the woman, and then widened when they moved to the figure in the chair. "Mal?" In the newly illuminated room the figure in the chair was revealed to be a child, to old to be called a boy, but not yet a man. He wore a faded pair of jeans and a t shirt a size too big. The child had his legs pulled up to his chest in the chair he sat in, a mop of brown hair not quite concealing a pair of tired brown eyes. When his father spoke his name it took him a few seconds to drag his gaze from the woman in bed to look at him. "What are you doing home? You have tutoring today don't you?" Mal shrugged, "Didn't go. Grades are fine. Don't need em." The father sighed, "Damn it Mal, we've talked about this. Your grades are find now, but your going to start high school in the fall, and you'll have to start college prep not long after that." "College," Mal spat the word in a sharp exhalation of air. The fathers expression changed to one of anger dulled by repetition; the kind that comes from having the same argument so often that he could predict what would be said before the words were ever spoken. How many times now had he insisted to his son that his lifestyle was not one to emulate, that he had only managed to survive this long through luck? And every time the boy would shoot back that for all its dangers they lived well, and that college didn't interest him anyway. It was maddening, watching his child make the mistakes that he wished he could take back. But this time the argument died before it could begin as the woman in the bed stirred, and she awoke to see her son and husband. A small weak smile crossed her face and she made herself sit up in bed to better look at them. The woman's hair was the same color as her sons, but was now thin and beginning to grey. Though she currently looked frail, there were still reminders of the beautiful woman she was before her illness. As soon as she had sat up her son had sprung from his seat to kneel at her side, gently taking her hand in both of his. Her husband followed suit and sat on the edge of the other side of the bed before leaning in and gently kissing her forehead. "How are you feeling?" he asked. The woman smiled up at him, "Better today. I managed to keep some food down earlier." She looked over to her son with a quizzical expression, "Mal honey, aren't you supposed to be at tutoring?" The boy looked at the floor, "You shouldn't be alone all the time." A pang of guilt echoed in the fathers chest at his sons words; knowing what the boy refused to say. When his wife had fallen ill he had taken a normal job at a tech company as a salesman; a natural fit for a man skilled at talking people out of their money. The job had come with health insurance, but it also required him to be out of the house more, and with Mal attending school, it often left his wife alone. It hadn't been a problem until Mal had come home one afternoon to find her barely breathing. From that point on they she had worn a monitoring device that would alert an agency if something happened, but the damage was done. He knew every time his son left the house he feared that he would come home to find his mother dead. Since that day he had spent every spare hour sitting by her side, sometimes even skipping school to do so. The mother looked at the bag in her husbands hand and asked, "Are those my pills?" Her husband nodded and opened the bag to hand her a translucent bottle containing a number of oval shaped pills. She took the bottle and frowned at it, shaking it a few times. "Isn't this less than usual?" The husband glanced away, "Yeah, they didn't have a lot. They're waiting on a shipment." His wife gave him a look of gentle disapproval, "How did you run cons so long when you can't even lie to your wife?" He sighed, "Alright. They changed our insurance provider at work. The new guys don't cover your medication. I had to pay out of pocket for those, and that was all I could get." Mal looked up at his father, "But... she needs those pills! They can't do that!" Mal's mother removed her hand from his grip to gently stroke his hair, "It'll be alright. We'll figure something out. Right?" The husband stared down at his shoes for a moment before offering a weak smile, "Of course we will." Mal looked between his parents for a moment before getting to his feet and heading for the door. "Where are you going?" called the father. "I'm late for tutoring," Mal almost snarled. The father moved to go after him, but as he heard the front door slam he knew that he wouldn't catch up to him. So instead he tried to put it out of his mind, and went to go prepare his wife's dinner. (1/3)
  11. Aleksei

    Good Ol' Days

    What a disgusting, revolting, colorful display. There it was, just sitting peacefully in the southwestern part of Cosanastre (the very first city founded, just for your information), glittering like a well polished crystal and singing it's siren's song: the Cathedral. Ah yes, today the bells tolled, beckoning different sorts of worshippers to its freely dusted halls and oiled pews. Today these worshippers find themselves praying to the gods of green and gold; the reverent prayers whispering through the the beating heart of the Cathedral. Serge bunting decorated the outside of the Cathedral turned gambling hall, enticing anyone and everyone to come inside and enjoy the raucous going on. Matching the exuberant decorations, guests were dressed in peacock colors; several of them, all on one body. The women wore reds, purples and greens. There were checks, stripes, brocades, appliques, and lush embroidery. The men matched the women, if anything, they were far more decorated than their counterparts. Clearly they are all extremely excited for The King’s Feast, an event that has recently been reinstated by the ever illustrious, gracious Ocelot Royce, the High Mason and ruler of Alterion. Inside, trestle table after trestle table bowed underneath the sheer weight of food stuffs. There was a roast boar stuffed with rabbits that were stuffed with partridges - sans trees, unfortunately. Pies of every type covered the white tablecloths. The free-flowing wine, ale, beer, and metheglin added to the already high spirits of the guests. One one table was a large white swan, baked and dressed and then reassembled so that it looked almost alive, every feather repositioned perfectly. It didn’t stick out though, because in the most centered table full of all sorts of seafaring creatures is a ginormous tank with a mermaid swimming inside. A Nymerian, to be more specific. Her dark hair was braided with beads and shells and crystals, akin to the black-blue sky sparkling with polished stars; her tail looked like the expanse of a early morning sky with oranges, reds, blues melting together; from waist up she wore nothing, representing the normal Nymerian wear, showing the lace-like tattoo beneath her breasts. The tattoo on her right arm shimmered with her panic, causing the shapes to appear as if they were moving with each swish of her tail as she swam from one end of the tank to the other. She was one of the many prizes offered for the day's events, and to win her you must be betting on either a group, individual, or a monster itself. All those betting will be put into a drawing to receive the Nymerian, no matter their losses or winnings. In the center of the grouping of tables was an open area. Here jesters danced and sang, people conversed, acrobats cavorted; the noise was tremendous, filling the Cathedral to the brim. And outside is absolutely no better! Anyone who can’t fit inside, found themselves a seat just about anywhere that was safe, mostly the rooftops and a few even made their homes in alleyways (out of harm's way of course). Because these sorts of events always bring out everyone's competitive streak, various household games like poker, go-fish, and whatever else kind of games gamblers contrive in the moment, are scattered around for anyone to join in. The heavier hitters were at their chosen tables with handhelds scattered around them; faces of the competitors and the monsters they're working against flicker across illuminated screens. All are welcome to place bets on either the monster hunters or the monsters, just to add some fun into the whole ordeal. Disgusting, colorful display of celebration and the day has only begun. How to bet: Easy! Everyone put your bets down in your posts and I'll keep track of everything. Anything that has monetary value (weapons, armor, jewelry, monsters of your own, etc.) you can use to bet, so have fun with this! Also reasonable, pleaasse. Once there is a list of items gathered from all people betting, I'll use a randomizer to select who gets what item to make it all fair. So Group A is for Participant AB but group B is against them and are for the monsters; Participant AB wins, so group Bs bets are given to Group A. Games: I don't care if you guys want to play a drunk, drug induced game of hide and seek, have fun! I will be introducing a version of Truth or Dare but with drinking, using a system where I think of a number 1-6, the participants pick a number, and the loser has to drink and then pick Truth or Dare. The dare obviously can't be hella disruptive but I want people to have fun with this and put their characters in awkward positions.
  12. As a man that know politics well he at least had a skill he could use and what timing! The city was in turmoil he easily took the industrial district by merely walking in and causing chaos and by a vote he was in. Oh and Cameron? After what he's done he simply "disappeared" what he's done that was convince the entire sector that Cameron had not believed in the crystal. And he had "proof" he showed that "Cameron" was actually working for a anti crystal group and using mind influence made him "suspicious" after a quick investigation that had actually proved that he had been against the crystal the whole time and with that he ran and was never seen again..... And now hurttoto RPMT is leading the factories "ahh it feels good but this is just a start soon just soon" he said as he walked into a lab in the R&B building"time to create!"he used various objects and combined them with some white liquid some of it turned brown and died but the rest grew stronger he called it THE BRAIN a viral intelligent one mind syimbiot ."I would need some help with this soon enough." He said as he got to work on something. Days later he had created "helper bots" and they became a big hit in sector 4 They were very useful since their applications were infinite the fact that they looked and acted like human made them adaptable to the way people acted in sector 4. but now was a time to spread the word and multiply the influence . He sent a message to certain people that would soon respond.......later "ahh Yolo you are one of the first people that have responded back to my message" he said (still editing)
  13. Welcome. Welcome to my Event young ones. Please forgive the belated salutations. It is I, your Master of Ceremonies. You want to hear my legend, don't you? FOOL! My legend dates back to the 12th Century you see. My legend is quite old. The 12th Century was a long time ago. Well I think that about covers the introductions. I'm here to tell you about the 1,000 Provisions that you are required to observe to participate in this glorious event. Now I would like for you to participate in the most important provision. Number 452 the 5 hour story telling party. Hey! Hold on, come back! I'll tell you what! I can lower those 1,000 provisions down to 800, just as long as you take part in the five hour story telling party. Please Adhere to the Guidelines Below. If you have Questions, Concerns or merely desire Discourse, kindly direct them to the designated thread. Be certain to Follow both the Rankings and the OOC thread for Updates. The King's Feast | GUIDE FOOL Everyone taking part in the Hunt will post here once and no more. The OOC chatter thread is the place for questions and discourse. Use your layout of choice but the following information must be listed for every hunter: Name: (What will the officials refer to you as) # of posts made in Hunting Event (Include only IC posts) [FOOLDO NOT Include in your Total # of Points] # of points for monster kills (See Below for points per creature) # of DM rewards points (You’ll know when you receive these. We’ll tell you.) Total # of points. [ # of Monster Points + DM Reward Points] (IE.) Name: Sad Chet Posts - 4 Kill Pts - 15 DM Pts - 10 Running Total - 25 After each post made in the Event it is recommended you come back and update your hunter’s stats. We’re assuming everyone wants to be here and wants to participate so we expect no foul play or shenanigans. If we find that someone is fudging dice rolls, or purposefully misreporting points, your hunter will be booted from the event. QUICK LINKS KF North KF South OOC DICE ROLLER BESTIARY ARTIFACTS HUNTERS MARKET Happy Hunting! Special Event Info & Lore Oct 31 - Jan 1 Cosanastre - North Sector 0 - Active Posters - 1-2 Posts a Day. Cosanastre - South Sector 0 - Semi-Active Posters - 1-2 Posts a Week NOV. CLASS V VILLAIN - To be revealed Special Event & Lore: Ocelot Royce, the High Mason and ruler of Alterion, has reinstated an old Alterian Tradition, the King's Feast. Long ago, the original Winter King hosted an event wherein which the streets of the crowned city were closed off, infested with all manner of monster and beast, and those brave enough roamed the city proving their prowess by defeating the creatures. Points were awarded for each creature, with more dangerous monsters being worth more points. In addition to this, the nobles and peasants alike could wager points, as well. It is said during the first King's Feast, the King's most trusted advisor betrayed him and snuck the young Masonress, Riva--who had participated in the Feast for just this opportunity, into the King's quarters where she slayed him and claimed the city for the Masons. Ever since, Riva's most devout followers held the event each year, until the previous High Mason outlawed the blood sport. The Feast is a challenge issued to the world's bravest and most daring warriors and its most ambitious gamblers. More than that it is an opportunity for those who seek change not only within themselves, but within the world. Fortunes have been made and paupers risen to the status of prince's by backing the right contender. The missive invites all interested to journey to Cosanastre and participate in either the hunting or the gambling portion. Prizes will be awarded to those who complete the event with the most points. Current Participants: Potential Participants: Q&A EVENT BREAKDOWN How does it work? Step one: After speaking with administration we’ve decided to have the rolls occur on site. Admins have : Added a D4 and D6. For now all die roll at once but no problem against multiple posts/rolls if they can't be used sequentially like that. The dev is promising an update in the next week or two that will let people pick the die they want to roll individually. But if they need to roll one then the other they'd post once, keep just the d20 roll to see if they hit or miss, then if they hit roll again and keep just the d4 or d6 or whichever is relevant This is where all dice rolls will occur and be monitored. Gamblers and contenders should be making their rolls here. Step two: enter the dice rolls thread (i’ll Provide a link in the next few days, but it’s pinned at the top of the water cooler forum). Before you initiate the roll, announce what character you’re rolling for and why you’re rolling. Post your announcement and collect the necessary numbers. (Ie.) Rolling for Bob’s random encounter Rolling for TIER | D4 roll = 3 — Tier 3 monster Rolling for MOB | D20 roll = 14 — [From the top of the bestiary, I counted down 14 beasts that could be Tier 3] Yaaraer Roll for HOW MANY | D6 roll = 3 strikers Per mob details, Yaaraer are often solitary, unless yielding offspring. A mother and adolescent pups (1-2 years). follows. FOOL: Encounters operate on a party level. Only one member of your party/team rolls for the specs of your encounter. FOOL: There are 5 Tier’s of monsters in the Alterion bestiary, but Tier 5 requires a DM, so we’re saving one or two Tier 5 creatures for later in the event. Thus we only roll for 4 possible Tiers. FOOL:No roll will grant you a Class V beast. Only a DM can do this. Step 3: Write the engagement and determine whether you want to use the NPC dice system or write the required number of posts to slay your beast. Refer to the Alterion Bestiary to see the required roll(s) or # of posts necessary to defeat the creature. Refer to the NPC dice System (explained below) for more info. Step 4: Complete the engagement. Note in your posts or in the OOC hunter thread how many points you’ve earned. See Bestiary Point Listing Below. Step 5: rinse and repeat. The completed combat thread will pay out a total of 30 points per participant. If the thread reaches 105 posts, an additional 60 points will be added to the total. Luxe/Hunter Association Rewards Hunter's Market Artifacts Available Alterion Artifacts Gambling Prizes Coming Soon... NPC COMBAT NPC DICE COMBAT Something I want to be clear about because there is definite confusion surrounding the NPC dice system. Unlike stat based systems, you do not roll a dice for every single action and attack in the NPC system. You don't have to roll every time you swing your sword or every time a monster swipes at you. For the purposes of this event, you roll for each post and the resulting number dictates how good or bad things play in your favor. May the odds be ever in your something or other. Rolls and >>SUGGESTED<< Outcomes. Since we’re rolling on site now, be certain to announce what you’re rolling for with each post. Also be sure to add your modifiers (preps and artifact bonuses) in your finished post. 1 = Whiff "Self-doubt" | Something has gone terribly wrong. You’re gonna feel the hurt. Lacking Confidence *Note* See Below 2 = Glancing "Hit/Miss" | For story purposes, a glancing hit is/can be shrugged off and no damage taken. So maybe you connected and your target laughed at you, or you got socked in the noggin and are feeling a bit bashful. 3 = Glancing Blow | These deal about 1/2 power, not enough to take out average threats, but it will definitely scare a minor threat. 4 = Hit | Normal dmg. Solid actions. You’re a badass. 5 = Keen Hit | Deal slightly more than normal damage. You’re drawing eyes and making your enemies rethink their choices. 6 = Critical Hit | Deal x2 dmg. You’re a goddamn hero. Dust the fuckers. *Note* A note on Critical Fails (rolling a natural 1). A lot of people think this means their character has to die or look foolish, not true. Things just aren’t allowed to go your way. Maybe in rolling a 1 the NpC enemy has called for reinforcements, so add an extra enemy that you have to deal with. The purpose of this system is not to hinder your creativity, but to help it grow Preps = Pips | Stored energy or Readiness is used to increase your chances for the next post(s). (+1/.../+5) Each turn (once combat has initiated) you can prep once. [Special: Legendary items may change this.] Remember you start storing preps when combat starts, you don't earn preps for lead up or 'scene setting' posts. Quick-Cast: You can gain 1 prep and spend 1 prep in the same turn. This is a sufficient way to not roll a natural 1 and inflict self-doubt. You may save up to five preps. [Special: Legendary items may change this.] Note: Whether you attack or not you must roll for each turn, so if you decide to prep and take no action then use your role to dictate what the NPC baddy does while you’re prepping. Modified Roll Guidance | Additions to your natural rolls from preps or equipment bonuses. Most Alterion Artifacts and items grant a +1 to all rolls. So, if you've rolled a natural 1, but you happen to have an Alterion Artifact, or you have a prep you're willing to expend then your actual score is (1 + 1) - Refer to Roles and SUGGESTED Outcomes (2). And it goes so forth and so on for 1-5. If you roll a natural 6: 6+1 [6+] = Stuttering Critical Hit| You’re a living legend, a god amongst meatsacks. Perform a feat fitting of your awesomeness. Overall, it’s really not complex. The dice are a tool to help feed your creativity. The primary reason for their existence is because it’s tiresome watching 20 olympic level gymnasts cut down 800 enemies without breaking a sweat. BESTIARY POINTS ○ LEVEL of THREAT ○ Class 1 / I - 10 Pts These are considered the lowest tier mobs. They are the weakest creatures in Alterion. Notable: Pathetic. Often small. Often many. Often fodder. If using the Dice System: Rolling a 3 or higher will defeat this creature. Ten or more posts a thread. If ignoring NPC DICE system. Class 2 / II - 15 Pts These are weak creatures, but are a bit larger or may put up a shade more fight than Class 1, but not likely. Notable: Pitiful. Usually smaller than a meter³. Heavier fodder. Still lame. If using Dice System: Rolling a 3 or higher will defeat this creature. Fifteen or more posts a thread.If ignoring NPC DICE system. Class 3 / III - 20 Pts These are mediocre creatures. Average across the board or skewed to be weak in one area and strong in another. Notable: Challenging. Often something of consequence in lower quests. Seen in small groups. If using the Dice System: Rolling two 3s or higher will defeat this creature. Twenty or more posts a thread. If ignoring NPC DICE system. Class 4 / IV - 30 Pts These are difficult creatures, often packing a wallop and are found to be difficult to take on alone. Notable: Hard. Severe in a one-on-one. Not often more than two. Tends to kill lesser Classes. Suggested to request a Storyteller of Valucre or NPC from the Alterion NPCer's Listing If using the Dice System: Rolling two 4s or higher will defeat this creature. Thirty or more posts a thread. If ignoring NPC DICE system. Class 5 / V - 50 Pts These are usually rare or legendary creatures. Often found guarding rare or legendary items. Often ass-kickers... Notable: Not suggested to solo. Heavy-hitters. Never more than one, unless all apart of one. Required to have an Alterion NPCer. If using the Dice System: Rolling four 4s or higher will defeat this creature. Fifty or more posts a thread. If ignoring NPC DICE system. Familiar Notice: If you see some of the beasts say they can be taken as a familiar, then how you understand the Class Rating is the first number is the encounter number. A Fae encounter is Class 1, but if they are taken as a familiar, they can be trained to a Class 3. If a Dragon Spriten is encountered, it is a Class 2 and can be trained to a Class 4 familiar. Each of the classes requires that Class # of posts to Level your familiar. Example: You catch a Dragon Spriten. It's Class 2. To get it to Class 3, you need a new thread, separate from the first [or the same] with the [an additional] Class 3 posts, 20 or more. To get it to Class 4, you need to add on or have a new thread with another 30 posts. Someone who achieves this will earn titles, an award for Beastmastery and items for their accomplishments. Parties and Class V Beasties. There are no rules that state you must fight alone. If you wish to work as a team, feel free to do so. Team points operate exactly as solo points. If one person kills a class I The. 10 pts are awarded to that hunter. If two hunters kill a Class I then Hunter 1 is awarded 10 pts and Hunter 2 is awarded 10 pts. This holds true for Class V monsters. There will be at least one of these showing up in the event, so it is recommended that a team up occur—at least, while facing the Class V.
  14. "Please follow me, first year—and keep up." Barked an orderly, walking through the long and winding hallway around the exterior of the castle from the main entrance. The scenery was decorated in crimson tapestries and oaken furniture to bring life to the cold, grey cobblestones that constructed the seemingly endless stretch to the dormitories. The pace was quick, but Kalenis' nimble feet kept up without any effort and quiet as a churchmouse, taking in and studying every inch of his new world. He'd come from another boarding school in Cosanastre, but now that he was at the ripe age for picking—the possibilities became concise and clear from his father... "This is where the cafeteria is. It's open all day long, so get chow whenever you need it." By now, Kal was used to passing through halls unknown or whispered about in the darkest corners, because of his father and position in the city walls, as a General of Gallin. He remained stoic in the fear of his peers, because ultimately they didn't matter. They didn't give him a grade, nor approve his registration, or report back to his father; tools to be used and nothing more, like this chump, he thought to himself. The orderly was a pudgy kid who looked like he was best suited for the cafeteria—whether it be making the food or just consuming it all by the fistfuls, there wasn't any way he could be a formidable combatant. Kale's eyes narrowed, watching the trainwreck that was the young man's pants be consumed by the grinding, gnashing maw of thigh and asscrack with a hint of disgust plastered upon pallid lips. I can see why he merely escorts people... "This is the dorms. They're male and female, but the females are on the far west side and males are here. There's walls and wards to separate, so don't go thinking to be Mr. Romantic." "Are you finished?" The orderly scowled. "Yeah, whatever. This is Echo Hall. Your room is on the right side of Charlie bay. Left door. You're bunked with a kid named Viktor. I'm sure you assholes will get along quite nicely." He snorted and stormed off enraged. Kalenis watched apathetically, feeling only remorse for the fat orderly's pants before turning toward the common room that stretched out before him. It was configured into a star pattern with the common in the middle and held five bays and two rooms per bay on the left and right side. His mind immediately crunched numbers to affix a value to his competition: twenty in this bay ... echo would have been five other bays, at least ... more than a hundred on this side, he pondered. Trudging on, he passed through the commons room and straight into the northmost peak where he rapped a knuckle once against the leftmost door, hesitated, and then opened the rustic oaken face to step into the room, pulling a wheeled trunk behind him. [D1E] Kalenis Thread: A EXP: 1/10
  15. Mag

    let there be light

    In Terrenus, there were recently made a few discoveries on the coast of Casper. The holy texts of the old Gaianism, written by those ancients who precluded the Odin, Zengi, even the Twin Queens. They were, perhaps, unoriginal in their content, offering nothing new to the understanding of the great mother. They were, perhaps, just as every other divine text, praises and exhortations of a being that drifted in the soul of the land. In the right eyes, however, they read as a guide to apotheosis. With just a little imagination, and a little blindness… They read as follows. In the beginning, there was nothingness. A vast, empty, nothingness that could not be called even dark – so complete was its lack. This nothingness persisted for aeons, and then in the midst, Gaia came. She split the empty in two, so that there may be, in truth, two vessels. Then she said, “Let there be light.” And there was light. Gaia saw that the light was good, and filled one vessel with the light and the other with the darkness… That story has been told once before – when God forged the universe and Valucre from dust. This story, conversely, is the second retelling: when a consciousness unaware of itself came to be, and in doing so created all that is true – the light, the dark, the heavens and earth, the waters and land, Terrenus, Genesaris, and Tellus Mater, Alterion and Renovatio, the forests of Arkadia and the gigareactors of Izral… This story is about one who had nothing to lose, and quite literally the world to gain; someone who inherited the world, rather than the world inheriting her. A human-shaped hole in truth and existence; God’s plaything. A girl who was erased from existence, yet still walked and spoke and cried and mumbled and screamed, who found refuge in no place, even escaping her own mind. This story is a how-to guide on achieving apotheosis. How to, as a mere mortal, equalize oneself with the great mother and the God of all that is. A guide to forging a world from nothingness, a tutorial from the alpha to the omega. A few prerequisites will be laid out, but I’m sure that the ambitious will be able to procure them. For there is nothing worth keeping – and nothing than can be kept – as a god. This is all of these things in one. And hopefully, it will cast a bit more light on divinity than that dusty old scroll those archaeologists found, for it is a story set in the present day, among the skyscrapers of Daius Industries and the paved roads of Cosanastre, in the shadow of the Crystal – or set in the places that they would come to be, for it all begins in nothingness. This is the tale of: POST|I LVL|X EXP|1 [DIE]
  16. This is an active thread. The thread title and location will change throughout the course of the RP. For the foreseeable future this thread will take place in the Cosanastre Region of Alterion, encompassing not only the massive megacity, but the vast lands surrounding it as well. of Cabbages & Kings. Viktus approached the massive stone door cautiously, a tested adventurer wary of the beast laying in wait. The halls of the cathedral were winding, oftentimes without purpose—and only those Masons raised within its walls, or blessed with a map and made privy of its ever-shifting corridors could hope to find that which they sought. Like most high value targets in Alterion, the Masons employed both Arcane and scientific measures in their defense measures. Though the door barring entry to the High Mason appeared nothing more than a stone slab, Viktus could only imagine what other gears, locks and safeguards lay hidden behind the stone. Though the High Mason now served as his foster father, Viktus was not above being summoned--in truth, Viktus felt he was summoned about more than Ocelot's aides. Garbed in the trappings of his Kageroth Cadet uniform, Viktus appeared very much underdressed for a meeting with Alterion's supreme leader. Regardless of his own vanity prompting him to don more extravagant garments, Ocelot's word was law both metaphorically and figuratively in Viktus' case. For were he to disobey or ignore a direct request, he not only insulted the vicar of the Crystal, but also his chief guardian and prime benefactor. Biting the hand that feeds has never been so tempting. Ocelot would have appreciated the quip, in fact he'd heard the man often talk back to his former foster father Long Tom Gallin. Viktus, unlike Lot, didn't dare press his luck...not until he was ready and able to take the High Mason down a peg. [D1E]ViktusThread: BEXP: 1/10
  17. "There are relics all across Valucre and more specifically, across the entire continent of Alterion. Relics and Artifacts are items of untold power and often surrounded by legends and lore that were an sacred or particularly useful item or equipment. Often times, before the Scar and Crystal, it has been reported that the ancient's gifted their belongings, imbued with mythical, raw energy to homosapiens in their greatest times of need. Partial immortality for demi-gods, unto full, untold summoning techniques that was capable of bringing a beast of fire to our reality from another dimension. These relics are now scattered, but still hold true the possession of olden, ancient power that has withstood the very lapse of time itself and remained charged. Its often believed that dragons were one such relic. One of the few creatures to be living and sustain incredible power and prestige, and yet there are few places to find them anymore because they see the decay of mankind—my personal theory—and no longer show themselves. The power the posses is beyond measure in relation to that of humans." "Where do you think they have all gone?" "Ah. Good question. There are several breeds that have been recorded in Valucre, but even more in Alterion, it seems, due to the Scar. It is believed that deep in the Skar holds the answer to that question, but the raw power of the Crystal and the magnitude of its depths have left few to try and research it. It's said that Scar may even have the potential, raw energy to convert a mortal human into a mage or psion, capable of wielding the crystal's power. Cosanastre has elite teams that—rumor has it—live and survive in the Scar, which gives them incredible power. Personally, I think it's a hoax. No one can handle that sort of power. There's rumors of a gauntlet that may have the ability, but ... again, legends and lore." RIIIIING "Class dismissed. There's a test at the end of next week. Have a good weekend. Don't forget to study." The class turned rather chaotic as the students piled out of the room before Kalenis had fully even stood and closed his book slowly, scratching another annotation about the Scar and the dragon correlation before looking up toward the teacher whose back was turned and wiping the blackboard of chalk slowly. "Excuse me, Professor..." [D1E] Kalenis Thread: B EXP: 1/10
  18. paradigm


    Placeholder @Syncopy Avarahm had been too young to remember the last Feast, but he remembered the elder masons telling him of it when he’d earned his robes. A trademark of the Traech dynasty, dead and gone with the line—the new High Mason would want not the barest whiff of similarity between himself and his predecessor. That had been almost thirty years ago, not a lifetime—but long enough that it was certain someone else’s life. How old had he been for the last Feast? 10? 11? He was too young to have this much difficulty remembering, but oftentimes our own memories are as sand in the hands of a child—sifting through fingers, leaving only bits clinging to the flesh. A gloved hand passed over a balding pate and wiped sweat from a furrowed brow. Such a writ had not been issued in twenty years, and the High Mason—a Traech, no less, commissioned Avararahm with carrying the word to the populace. Ocelot Royce was not the man Avarahm would have chosen as his High Mason, but he was the heir to Anomander Traech—one of many if rumor was to be believed, but the one who had seized power nevertheless. Perhaps his Traech lineage was as false as Avarahm’s vow of chastity—it was no business of the clergyman. Royce was in power and he claimed he was a Traech, thus he was a Traech. The Traech founded the King’s Feast and thus Ocelot Royce anointed Anomander Traech VI, now declared the King’s Feast reinstated. Unrolling a length of parchment, Avarahm removed an empty inkwell, quill and carving knife from his desk drawer. Despite its decades of hiatus, the rituals of the Feast were still taught to the Masons by their superiors—as was the overarching lesson of the Feast. Pulling the sleeve of his robe back, Avarahm bared his naked arm over the inkwell and picked up the carving knife. Leaving his palm open, the priest dug the blade into the meat of his palm, allowing his blood to pour into the inkwell in a steady, albeit weak stream. Lifting up the quill, Arvarahm pressed its tip to the end of his tongue, a force of habit more than necessity and dabbed it into the inkwell. Lifting the blood stained tip, he scrawled the High Mason’s missive in the large archaic font of the church. He was light headed at the sight of his own blood, but aside from the nagging ache he knew he’d have in his palm for the next few days, he knew he was not much worse for wear. As he copied down the High Masons wishes, he could not help but reflect on the Feast’s message Closing his eyes, he muttered a prayer of contrition before continuing. “Bless us, Riva. Have Mercy on your children in this our hour of need, for as the Feast reminds us...we must never forget... Lessons writ in blood are not soon forgotten.
  19. "You, uhh..... I ain't seen you in here before. What's your name, doll?" "Emily. You are my client?" "Your--yeah, I guess. Where are all the--whoa!" The woman pulled herself free from the two cables attached to her forehead with a sudden yank, producing a somewhat unnerving pop in their severing but no visible damage or lasting marks. She draped her lithe body across the man with a degree of aggression that he simply wasn't used to. The whores in Sector 5 were just that, whores, and whores were the same everywhere. Most all of the Sector 5 whores were high-quality whores, but whores were whores. Whores didn't literally throw themselves onto you before you'd even paid. They waited for you to set the terms of what was going to happen, so they could get away with doing as little as possible; whatever you required them to do, but no more. This woman, was not like that. Even while she took the initiative, the man also didn't feel as though things were quite right, and not only because of that specific behavioral change. Her movements were earnest, but her face remained strangely blank. The eyes were wide open, but there was no expression in them. The delicate muscles surrounding them never shifted, almost like he was staring into a doll's face. It was creepy, but. It was also hot, in a way. As she pulled him forcefully down the hall and into a room, he didn't protest or fight back, instead finding it easier and enjoyable enough to let her take the lead. The woman maintained her assertiveness even after the door was closed and business had begun, proceeding to undress herself and act upon him with no prompting whatsoever. The more that he let himself forget about the old paradigm where he was in control and he guided the interaction, the more that he found himself enjoying the experience, and by the time it was done, his mind was made up. The man would be recommending everyone he knew to come here now, instead--he didn't know where the hell these new janes had come from, but they were definitely an improvement! --- White surveyed the line-up of "waifus" arrayed in the basement of Crystal Comforts, a high-end brothel whose building was indeed shaped like a giant alterna crystal, carved into the distinctive form of a well-proportioned nude female. While it hadn't changed at all on the outside, nor had the building itself changed on the inside either, the personnel had gone through a complete replacement over the past week. First was the timely death of the establishment's owner--a sudden heart attack, the cause unknown, truly tragic--followed by the successful auction of the business off to one "Joan Jones," a young blue-haired girl who no one knew yet whose fortune seemed absolutely bottomless as she out-bid all competition more than ten times over. White was, of course, the true persona piloting "Joan Jones." Then came the firings and "hirings." And by "hirings" this meant the replacement of the whores with White's waifus, wholesale. The establishment had seen its profits quintuple in under a week: The waifus did not demand pay, did not complain about uncomfortable lodgings, did not resist if they were asked to work long hours, did not feel remorse or conflict if they were required to perform particularly degrading acts. They barely cost more than a dog to keep fed and happy, allowing White to pocket nearly one hundred percent of the establishment's revenue with no drop in prices. He'd already been using the establishment as a base by which to sell more waifus off to other nearby businesses, and as they came to be preferred by customer and manager alike, they were steadily replacing the natural women who worked in these places. Even with surgical augmentation and chemical assistance to up their performance, human beings simply couldn't compete with the robotic efficiency of White's waifus. Sector Five would be his within six months at this rate.
  20. December 2017......details are to BE ANNOUNCED!! Benny, CEO and DAICHON RP PRINCE OF DCN.
  21. traveling to cosanastre was very hard to get to because dawek the traveling salesman... thing had to carry a giant bag full of mystical items on a boat full of livestock to cosanastre. so he set up a stand next to the dock wondering if anyone wanted to buy his things.
  22. Three. That was how many White had recruited to start off his little project..... perhaps it was fewer than he would've liked, but what was that old saying? Three's a crowd? Something along those lines. For this particular endeavor, he required outsiders, true outsiders. As reliable and efficient as his underlings in Sector 3 were, it would be impossible for them to venture into the other sectors without being immediately sniffed out for what they were, servants of the Medical Sector. The people of Cosanastre knew the other peoples of Cosanastre. That was why White had brought together three individuals whom they wouldn't know, three people who could start afresh here..... and by extension, give him the benefit of true anonymity, his hand in the whole affair kept out of sight. If any of these people decided, for some strange reason, to try and reveal the truth, it would not matter. They were strangers, with no reputation and no power. Their word meant nothing. He had perfect plausible deniability in place. Besides, they'd have to be suicidal to betray him. They had everything to lose, and nothing to gain. Even as insane as the prospect seemed, White had still taken the possibility into consideration and prepared accordingly, of course. He hadn't gotten to where he was by leaving things to chance. The red eye set into the wall of this private meeting room in Cosanastre General represented White's presence here. His physical body, though now re-constructed, was far away from here; there was no need for his new business partners to see it, not yet. They would have to earn some measure of trust before meetings could be arranged in person. The regent knew they would understand. They would not have accepted this opportunity in the first place if they didn't know how these things were done. "Welcome to my humble abode, gentlemen. I trust your stay in Sector 3 has been pleasant?" White left the answer to that question unsaid. Depending on their tastes, the men would certainly have found much to indulge themselves in here; he had made VIP access vouchers available to each of them prior to this meeting, which gave them free and unlimited access to the Medical Sector's various services, including cutting-edge recreational pharmaceuticals, high-quality therapeutic massages, and..... "massages," among other various pleasures of the flesh, such as fine dining. When it came to criminal dealings, it was common courtesy for the employer to at least offer his potential employees a taste of the benefits that they stood to gain from their service. It was a show of good faith. Before becoming what he was now, White had worked for decades as a professional assassin, steadily climbing the rungs of the illicit ladder until his opportunity for true success finally came. He was more than familiar with the ways that these wheels turned, and all the right ways to grease them. "Now, to business. I trust you've reviewed the briefings you were given on the BANTER program, and why your participation is essential to its success. Our venture begins in Lessertown. Sector 8 is the hub of Cosanastre's criminal element; it is almost pointless to engage in dealings of our nature, without first running them through one of the major gangs there. They have influence throughout the city, and they protect their turf fiercely. That's why we're going to infiltrate their home first. Once we have control of a syndicate from Sector 8, we can begin branching out our business from there. You'll have nothing more than your own skills and your stockpiles of BANTER with which to do this, but I have faith in your ability to make do and then some. This product is far too good for the gangs to refuse--you'll have an easy in so long as they're reliant on you for their supplies of the drug. Taking control from that point will be the real challenge. "How you go about seizing said control, again, I leave up to you. I'll be in constant communication should you need information or advice, but I cannot join you in the flesh, or rather, in person. Obviously, the regent of Sector 3 cannot simply go traipsing about the slums to no apparent purpose. This is an ideal time to make this move, as Lessertown's own regent, a rather vile little girl by the name of Kim Osa, has not been seen nor heard from in quite some time. Rumors of her untimely demise have already begun to fly, but you must resist any temptation to investigate. Remember, the objective is to establish influence without raising suspicion. You should not even go near the regent's compound unless it becomes necessary, and by no means are you to contradict or challenge her authority. This can only work if you aren't perceived as a major threat to the established order. "Do this successfully, and many rewards await to be reaped. Surely you've already seen during your time here, what our scientists can do with the human form..... how it can be perfected, then enhanced far beyond its inherent limitations, with our cybernetic technology. It's not unusual for successful kingpins to spend their ill-gotten wealth modifying their bodies here, so once you've become such kingpins yourselves, I can bestow you with top-of-the-line mods in exchange for your continued service. Your VIP vouchers will also, of course, be renewed permanently upon your success. Well..... questions? Ah, also, take these." As the computerized voice finished speaking, a small slot opened up in the wall underneath the red eye, holding three tiny earpieces which White would use to keep in touch with his operatives. @Trexasle@Abraham Büzer@danzilla3
  23. -Lilium-


    Life is cold, cruel, and sometimes unimaginable. These are the things she thinks about during their little sessions. There is no time for ‘what if’ or ‘what could have been’, there is only the here and now. Though the ‘why’ seems to evade her, she has yet to ask the woman sitting across the room. It always starts the same. Every day an alarm goes off, and every day she shuts it off. The room is small and plain, but there is a window next to her bed. And she can look out into the early morning light and see the city. It took a few months for it to interest her, and even longer for her to see the beauty of the sky, or that of the birds gliding through it. “What are you thinking about right now?” She hadn’t realized it, but her mind was wandering again. Her eyes having taken on a hazy glassed-over appearance as the darkness attempted to slink its way back in. Now she has to find something to say to explain the drift. Many things come immediately to the forefront. However, there’s an eclectic feel to her memories today. So, when she turns to look at the doctor she can only respond with a question. “Will I ever see them, or him, again?” Never really expressing distaste for these kinds of questions, the doctor just continues to watch her as if she were a monkey with a pair of cymbals crashing together in her hands. Those twinkles in her eyes always offset her pristine, empty, and secretive expression. It’s unnerving.
  24. Aleksei

    all this time

    With her head bowed in mock prayer she listened to the shuffling of feet and the murmurs of vehement prayer. A wift of wax and burning incense causes her to wrinkle her nose in disdain, not at all enjoying the boring reminder where she was and why she was there. The last few weeks or so have been filled with nothing but prayer - a thing she has no need for, and feels less than enthused to be part of. Primera is bitter in her grief, and no prayer can convince her that there is a God who can wash away the sins of their wrongs. Tired of pretending the woman lifts her head to look around her. Various people from obvious different walks of life are filtering in and out of the large Cathedral; their prayers lingering on their lips while their hearts beat with hope. She can admire them for their devout ways, yet she can't feel compelled to become a believer. Nothing, no prayer, no God, and certainly no hope, are going to bring her mother back to life. Nothing in this living world is going to lift the sudden burdened weight leaning against her cold shoulders. She bites the inside of her cheek to put pause to her horrible, hopeless laced thoughts. There is no use in being so bitter, even though she is allowed some leeway to be bitter, sad, and absolutely upset about her situation. Beneath all the horrible circumstances of her life currently, there is a silver lining, there is a hope, and there is for sure a solution to the failures set behind the desecration of her home. That bit of light is something she has to hold onto no matter what. Between hateful rants and hopeful dreams, the reality set before her should never be lost. Tasting blood on her tongue, she releases her cheek. Standing, feeling heavier than before, shoulders slumped almost down to her knees; the usually proud woman appears small, defeated, and angry. Dressed in what she assumes is the finest there is in Alterion, the bodice of her dress is a delicate lace fragile enough to halt her from any sudden movements, and the pink tulle is delicious to the touch and gives her the appearance of floating when walking. The high beauty of a tiara sits prettily atop her red locks, which have been curled and set to flow freely down to the middle of her back; her beauty is magnified and on any other occasion she would stand proud to be so vogue. But like the prayers and hopes, not even the beauty of her dress, the jewelry in her hair, and the air of haughtiness that could ignite the sun itself, can bring her to smile and greet the day handsomely. Alterion will be housing her for however long. She will be protected and given sanctuary until there is something that can be done ... whatever that something is. Here she is not Grand Kommandant, she is Primera, a woman lost, a leader without a home to lead. The glow behind her opal hues dimmed as she sat down in a pew, her thoughts swirling around her just like the heavy fabric of her dress. The cold touch of loneliness sweeps across her cheek, down her shoulder, across her chest, and settles in the bottom of her heart. The swings in her moods was a sign of defeat, though she will not admit such a thing. It's only human to feel so many emotions at once, and even though she is a lofty creature so high above most, the woman is but a simple human in the world. Her sorrow is deep and penetrating; it threatens to tear down the walls of her pride. Attempting to find peace with herself and her current situation, she closes her eyes and leans back. Maybe the prayers will seep into her body, forcing her soul to become a beckoning candle, and her being to carry the scent of incense so that she may become a familiar home where many can come to gather. Or maybe she'll just become another statue left in the corner to be ignored. Better yet, maybe she'll just disappear all together and become another star adrift in the expansive sky.
  25. Sector 3. The sector with all that high tech stuff like medcine and all that good stuff. That wouldn't last for long. Not after a draconian experiment had destroyed most of the factories. Midnight. The sky was dark and of course the streetlights were on. Why would they not be? Well...that's the point of them right? Arashi slowly walked through the streets, looking rather battered and injured all over. Her hoodie and pants seemed to fairly ripped slightly in some places cause you know fighting happens and people...get hurt. Her regenerative factor couldn't beat off everything, not after she accidentally fucked up and might of eaten some...poisonous plant or whatever. Gaia knows what she did. "I feel like I may be dying but whatever...must be all that stupid flowers I ate eariler." Arashi was an idiot. She was lucky to be alive. That probably would of killed a normal person. Luckily, she had a good healing factor to fight it off enough for now. She'd probably succumb to it later till she gets an antidote or whatever. Arashi had noticed a huge hospital in the distance. She walked torwards it, going inside. She was greeted by a lady reciptionist, typing at the desk. "Welcome!" Arashi instinctively looked over at the lady. "Medicine, I need it." "I'm sorry, do you have an appointment?" Arashi growled. She walked over to the desk where the lady was typing. She wasn't too happy. "I said, where is IT?" "Miss, don't make me resort to calling the guards--" With a sudden motion, Arashi went and picked up the reciptionist up by her outfit. "Where is it? This is my last warning..." "It's upstairs somewhere! Don't hurt me!" A man came out one of the offices nearby, looking over at the commotion in detail. "Hey! Back away from Sarah!" He exclaimed, he went to out of the desked in area and went to try and punch Arashi. Of course, Arashi just took it and looked over at him. "...Pest. " Arashi defended herself by punching the man into the ground with her strength. She was weakened but that didn't stop her. Now there's a large dent and a dead man in the ground. "No, Jackson!!!" The lady exclaimed as she saw her fallen friend defeated by the Draconian hybrid. "Are we done?" Of course, this wasn't wasn't going end well for the hybrid.
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