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  1. James La Efonte, PRIME of La Guardia. The man rolled his knotted shoulders, trying desperately to get rid of the pain from the previous months stress. What a ridiculous amount of shit. It was way too much for a man of his advanced age. Sixty years he'd been dealing with such fucked up nonsense and, honestly, the passed couple weeks topped most of it. The arrival of Paragons hadn't been particularly bothersome at first. Sure, they were in Nehalen but they'd mostly kept to themselves in the Nu Martyr province. James had debated sending in aid for the now deceased PRIME Dallas, but had ultimately decided not to bother. The fight's winner between Dallas and The Commander had been uncertain at best, leaning heavily in favor of the Commander at best. Like a rolling storm the monster in human flesh had washed over the province and essentially decimated it to nothing. Recently he'd heard rumors of The Commander placing one of her followers in charge, as it was quite clear the woman had no intention of handling the responsibility of a ruling a kingdom. That said, James continued to thank... well, whatever deity was the flavor of the day for Nehalen now, that he hadn't decided to help Dallas. Who knows if the Commander's attack would have spread into La Guardia as well. As Nu Martyr's northern neighbor, it wasn't such an unbelievable possibility. He sighed, reaching an arm over his shoulder to kneed the throbbing muscles. Bloodshot blue eyes looked out from the table he was trying not to slam his head on, landing on the woman at the far end. The other PRIME. On his right, her left, were a half dozen of James' advisers. Opposite them, were a half dozen of her's. James had been rather hesitant about forming an alliance with Avylon. Known for being the province of war where the best of Reno warriors were forged, there was an over looming threat of domination if Avylon decided to invade La Guardia. It would be machinations against magic and physical prowess. There was also the fear that Avylon would believe La Guardia was asking for protection rather than an equal alliance. Worse, the people could think that. For that reason, James had insisted on meeting at the border between the two provinces. A ground both neutral and equally dominant. A dominion of both and of neither. A showing of alliance, but one of caution and hesitation. Not of fear, but of respect. The castle was built years ago, even before the time of Rosinder. It had been, perhaps, new during the time of Zengi's chaotic reign in Terrenus. Heavily fortified with a powerful magic barrier, almost a thousand elite soldiers armed with the best of magi-tech. Throughout the ranks were also Zodiac Knights and Celestial Guards, personas that stood at the same height as the Terran Peacekeepers. If there was a single place James felt most secure from outside forces, the Castle of Strogonoff was by far the first. "It's a pleasure to see you again PRIME Darcoza." Reyliene Darcoza, PRIME of Avylon. As opposed to PRIME Efonte who'd decided to dress up in the fancy dressware of La Guardia, Reyliene had opted for something more practical. Something that addressed what the meeting was really about. Armor. She trusted PRIME Efonte about as far as she could throw him. A PRIME didn't last for as long as he did in the Nehalen environment without being a sneaky son of a bitch. If Reyliene considered herself a wolf, Efonte was a fox. Or a snake. She didn't really know him well enough to make the distinction, but the gist was there. Despite it being the first meeting, Reyliene had been trying to rally support against The Commander and her Paragons of power since the beginning. The moment they'd set foot in Nehalen, she'd been raising a defense, planning attacks; whatever she could do. Unfortunately getting a bunch of wild and uncontrollable warriors to go after an enemy they couldn't see or fight against unless they traveled to a different province was a lot harder than it sounds... actually it was probably just about as hard as it sounds. And unlike Efonte, Castle Strogonoff was one of the places she felt less secure. Abstract countermeasures and defenses set into such an old structure were untrustworthy. She needed to know every inch, every centimeter of wherever she was to feel even a modicum of security. "Let's just get this over with," Reyliene growled, already itching for her sword. Laying eyes on the weak looking bodies of those scholarly La Guardia advisers they called men, Reyline couldn't help the smirk that stretched across her face. "I wouldn't want you ladies to miss your husbands back home." @amenities @danzilla3 @TheShadow @Metty
  2. "No hospitals." That had been the primary stipulation Phoebe had given Shikai once they were clear of the PRIME's fortress and looking for a place to lay low and lick their wounds. She was injured enough that the shinobi had to help her move; which did no favor for the burns on his back, but he didn't complain. Given how messed up and exhausted they both were, they wouldn't be able to go far before they needed to stop, rest, and heal. Fortunately, the General had a few contacts in the area left over from a job he had done a few years back. A few called-in favors later, the pair found themselves standing before an empty cabin in a village in the middle of nowhere. "Looks homey," he joked, "Let's go in." Opening the door, it turned out that Shikai's previous comment had been correct. The living room was decorated with hardwood furniture, the chairs and couches covered with comfortable looking cushions and quilts. All of it was built around a great fireplace, the smell of burnt wood permanently soaked into everything around it. Walking into the bedroom, they found a large bed, complete with bedding, and another fireplace off to the side. As gently as he could, Shikai helped Phoebe onto the bed. He had already made sure she hadn't been concussed, and done a field dressing of her other wounds, so he felt it was safe to let her sleep a little before providing further treatment. "I'll uh... take the couch." Hoping the First couldn't see him blushing, he left the room to sit himself down on the couch nearest the fireplace. A few minutes later, he had a fire going, and was using a jutsu to heal the burns on his back. It took him a few hours, and once it was done, exhaustion was starting to set in. Slumping over, he allowed himself to finally fall asleep. @Noko
  3. Aleksei


    @Twitterpated 'What's this?' Is what the peering eyes asked their partner in crime who was poking at the floating body with immense interest. Visitors are not unusual around these parts, but this one looked a little under the weather compared to the rest of the humans who visit them. 'A human, you guppy! A kind of dead human, nah?' was the reply, the words silent on the air but not in their minds. The echoing words made the other mermaid shudder - guppy, what a childish insult to resort to! And how do you tell if a human is dead or alive? As far as he's concerned, humans really don't die, they just kind of disappear for a bit and then come back on their terms. This human did look a tad ruined, though. His arm was missing, and the rest of him looked beat up. Whatever attacked him could be near, and that's the thought that kept the mermaids cautious and unsure about what to do next. 'Come on, help me turn him over!' The two stared at each other - turn him over? 'Keone!' They can't just turn away and let the man actually die; it risked the peace between the humans and the mermaids. Relations between the sky-mermaids and the humans have always been peaceful and sweet, but abandoning the injured person could open up a narrative he'd rather not visit. Keone listened to Nakoa, figuring that it's best to follow his direction and ride the waves where they take them. He helped turn the man over, suddenly remembering why humans are useless in water: they don't have water lungs! Turning him over possibly saved his life, if he wasn't already dead from the two trying to figure out what in the waters to do. Luckily, the two saw the man's chest rise and fall, but they were shallow little gulps. 'Do you have any sea-foam left?' Nakoa quickly nodded and fished the sea-foam from his pouch. They can't help this man on the land, but they can save his life at sea. With Keone's help, Nakoa fed the dying man sea-foam, and the two waited impatiently for the magical foam to take control. When it finally did, the two mermaids pulled the man underwater, playing part to the old stories about mermaids being powerful and deadly creatures. They reached Ingemar just in time; the man was close to death. Nakoa and Keone had taken him to the healers, who all worked their magic to pull the man together. The human body is magnificent, but it has various limitations when it comes to the environment. Nakoa had to return to his duties, which left Keone to watch as the healers bathed the man in a special balm that protected him from the pressures of the water. Whenever he woke up, he would be comfortable, or as comfortable as someone who has nearly died and has lost an arm can be. "Will he be alright?" Keone asked the healer, his fin swishing through the water with obvious anticipation. "He looked like he was dying, because ... you know ..." The mermaid pointed to his arm, indicating the grave injury the human has obtained. "He should be okay after a few days. Whatever happened, it's surprising he made it this long." Ingemar was all atwitter with the arrival of a new person inside the castle walls. It has been some time since the Kingdom has allowed anyone to step inside the most sacred halls. The King had made his announcement clear: no rest, no visit, not until the princess is found. Their King was not so cold-hearted to deny an injured person; there's a story here, and he wants to hear it.
  4. Guest

    Rath Lux - Quests: Agnus Dei

    Several weeks passed by in the blink of an eye as the mercenary army required to overtake Heavenshire formed within the confined of Port Reach, swarming every hotel, casino, tavern and outhouse with rough-looking individuals eager to earn their keep. It was both a boon and a detriment, as the city experienced a high increase in crime due to the barons call to arms. Many of the islands locals desired to join his forces and reaffirm the baron to the Island's throne, but all were denied for an indecipherable reason. Speculation and rumor struck the isle with an unbridled fervor, carrying with them all a modicum of truth and a whole lot of lies. People thought that the baron was betrayed, in fact, that much seemed to be certain, but by who? No one was able to tell. Some speculated that he despised his current feminine appearance, even though the people knew it was truly him behind that effeminate form due to the influence of the Heartweald, so it is not like they questioned him. This did not stop some from trying to piece together exactly why their formerly male baron now held the appearance of his wife, the cruel baroness whom most now presumed was long since dead, which lead to several incidents during the span of these few weeks. Unwilling, or perhaps not caring enough for the opinions of others, Rhean went around town on several dates with his newfound romantic interest, @Myrinda, which were rarely the usual form of excursion where one is treated to a dinner or being gifted flowers, though there were some of these as well, but rather hunts for bounties, bandit extermination and even the slaughter of a garn den near the city. It was a strange thing to see, even stranger to consider. Why would the baron, who had spent the majority of his rule seemingly locked away in his manor and seemed to be unable to care less for his own subjects, suddenly decide to go out and make the Island a better place to live? He didn't do it for free, of course, acting more akin to an adventurer than anything else. This brought birth to a number of different rumors; such as the baron's manor being taken over by a criminal syndicate and that he was now on a hunt for revenge. Only fools believed that, knowing that the baron himself is a corrupt and twisted individual with connections that are rooted deeply within the Hedon Enclave, which is the islands version of a mafia. Rhean, in the meantime, has been abusing the bounty system to fill his pockets with enough gold to buy himself a new house within the port and fund the creation of a new set of plate armour. This new home is a simple place with, furbished with everything required for everyday living and enough servants to make one believe that a king lives there, that king being none other than the barons estranged son, @Dray. The baron seems to be displeased with his sons lack of action, but still loves the child dearly enough to ensure that he can live on alone. How this was possible with a few weeks of bandit hunting is another source of rumors; such as those that claim the baron is working with the criminals and raiding merchant caravans to fill his pockets. You see, normally when an adventurer slaughters a camp full of bandits and finds the remainder of a pillaged caravan, they are legally obligated to return these goods to the nearest city whereast they will be returned to their owner or distributed to their next-of-kin. Naturally, as the baron, Rhean just took whatever he found since, in his mind, everything on the island belonged to him anyways. And with the help of a certain gothic lolita by the name of @Frederika, alongside suitably-sized division of acquired goods between the two, a decent sum of money was collected in a short period of time. However, that also means that the criminal enterprises right outside of the city are currently experiencing a severe lack of manpower, so they may or may not become even more aggressive than before. The Heartweald itself has been... silent. Eerily silent, as of late. So much so that several red-draped doomsayers have appeared in every populated location on Rath lux, spewing a toxic narrative about recent events being the beginning of the end. The people ignore or otheright disdain them, but a certain spirit has found them very interesting, indeed. @Shal His forces gathered, his funding secured and many, many rumors left to run unchecked, the baron now finds himself at the head of a small army standing before the city gates, the guards giving the mercenaries a strange, almost disgusted look of pure mistrust. It was clear that they were not wanted here and they knew it. Rhean would have to finish this as quickly as possible. Standing tall upon a small wooden podium, the baron adresses his "troops" in a deadpan manner. "Alright, listen up! We are going to be splitting up into three groups. First group is going to be made up of frontliners, second is ranged fighters and the last is anyone who considers themselves a specialist. I do not have the care to sort you in any proper manner as, if things go according to plan, there wont even be a need to do battle. Now, get in line!" With several loud grumbles, the mercenaries comply.
  5. Waltzing through the crowd with a furious expression, the knight couldn't help but worry through the mass of rage that was welling up inside of his chest. So much wrong had struck him in the very short time he had been aware, emotions ranging from jealousy, fear and betrayal, as well as the shame of having left a certain someone alone in a room, without waking her first to explain where he was going. @Myrinda He hadn't even considered her feelings up till this moment, causing a great amount of shame to form as he felt himself sigh. Clearly, his long-term abstinence had caused him to lose his romantic skills as well as grant him undue amounts of desperation. She was a virgin too, so its likely that she wouldn't take this event very well, especially since he had gone to see Frederika, whom Myrinda likely considered a woman. A sigh escaped him, one of the many, many other exhalations of simillar kind the last few days. It had been a very rough start of the week and he could only hope that it wouldn't get worse. Perhaps, he could find some way to distract them both? The bounty board caught his attention as he walked over and ripped off a bounty paper. It would appear that a group of bandits was based within the southern shoreline of the nearby Shalewood. He grinned with delight, for it had been a long time since he had performed some pest extermination. This quest, it seemed, could end up being more than simple stress relief!
  6. Guest

    Rath Lux - Quests: Word And Law

    It was early noon by the time he had awoken from a night of sleep more restful than any he had in months, as he gave his newfound lover a carress, taking great care not to wake her. @Myrinda Silently, he walked over to the wooden desk they had in their royaleque room, the ebonwood inlaid with silver and gold, fit for only the richest and the hedonistic, which suited him just fine. Taking his time, he wrote a letter to the sleeping beauty, telling her of where he was going and why, as well as leaving a pouch of coin with detailed descriptions of their value, explaining that they would rest here for a day or two as the mercenaries gather. Perhaps, there was some business she wished to take care of before entering a potentially dangerous siege, even though he did not think it would take long to overtake Heavenshire. One thing was for certain though, he had been far too lax as the Baron of this land, Primera forgive his sin. With a sigh, Rhean dressed himself and walked out, leaving the key on the desk, next to the letter and a burning, runic candle that seemed to feed of off the natural mana flowing around it. Rath Lux seemed to be having an increase in radiant mana lately, something that every mage and scientist could feel, as the power behind spells grew and technology randomly blew up, an aftereffect of the raging Loci afflicting the Island. As if the unnatural sunlight, rivers of blood and monsters that took continuous cannonfire to bring down weren't enough; who knows what the Island would vomit out next. Preparations, would have to be made, laws drawn up, industrial and millitary year plans put into motion. Change, would have to be enforced. Retaking the Island for himself is one thing, but keeping it? He knew already that that would be the true challenge. A war was coming, he didn't know which or what kind or if it was even something that could be categorized in accordance, compared to a war that had been fought before. He had hope that such an event was unlikely, but he could not help the gnawing, festering doubt within his heart. The hungry leaders of the Island had surely taken note of the brimming chaos; rebellions, pirates, traitors from the inside, cultural upheaval and all the other, wonderful cattle droppings that his beloved barony would throw at him. ... beloved? He caught himself with that thought and smiled. He had never considered this land as something he loved. In fact, he ran away from it the first thing he could; but aside from the obvious mental manipulation from the Heartweald, him thinking this meant that there was still a chance that the Island would not resist him as much as he thought. However, if the Island isn't the enemy, then who is? A thought for later... a later that would come very soon, he figured, as he walked out of his restaurant and in the direction of a certain, splendorous flower shop. If anyone could help him figure this out, it would have to be his most trusted and yet, most dangerous ally, @Frederika. A chuckle escaped the man, for this would certainly be a conversation to remember, no? Oh and, perhaps he should remember to deal with that shady teacher of his sons while he is at it? The man never felt right. His blood, his breath didn't smell of man, beast, monster, spirit or even god. He simply didn't know what to make of him. In truth, if it wasn't for @Dray, he would have gotten rid of the man years ago. @Phosfasium And when it comes to his son... he sincerely wondered what he should do with the child. His beloved son had been reduced to a bumbling, antisocial ingrate, even having been healed by his fathers hand. A parents love goes deep, but a father has pride and his son is most certainly testing it.
  7. Guest

    Rath Lux - Quests: Principium

    This was all like a nightmare. So much had happened in the few months that he'd been back home... A manor as vast and splendorous as that of the richest nobles from the mainland. Its halls draped in royaleque finery, carpets and artistry that each costs more than a dozen of the hobbled buildings that his subjects called their homes. He remembers it, as it used to be, a bastion of power, a symbol of his rebellion against pedigree. The proof that, even as a commoner, he truely was born for the highest of societal stata. With a sigh, he dressed himself, looking into mirror, smirking with a revolted form of pride, for reflected into the mirror, was a familiar, feminine form; that of the baroness, that of his former ex-wife, even though their divorce was never truly made official. Catherine Mayne, a powerful, greedy and manipulative woman. One whom hated the notion of having her power be reduced by marriage, so she sought a fool. A brave fool whom would not marr her reputation, but also someone physically capable of sustaining her womanly needs. He chuckled eerily as he put on a garb. It took a while for him to get used to female noble apparel and he still outright refused to wear dresses and the like. With a shrug and a laugh, he continued staring into the mirror, finding his tomboyish appearance somewhat attractive in itself, though if someone had questioned him about this particular form of fetish before, he would have surely denied it. Even these musings could not stop him from being revolted at the fact that he now wore a face strikingly simillar to that of his deceased wife, an experiment, a foolish thing, really, just another sacrifice, from them both, in order to save their only son... not that she was willing, but at the same time, they both understood that he wasn't asking. She was... almost ready, for it to happen. She wasn't afraid, never was of anything really, but just stood there and watched as he approached her with a silver sword and asked: "I guess that means my time is up?" It wasn't painful, he made sure of it. A singular quick cut, a straight line accross the neck, the symbol of practiced skill borne of years of warfare and conflict, or so he would like to say, but its not exactly difficult to slice the head off of a target dummy. Finally, after what felt like hours, he kicked the door open, his senses assaulted by a deep stench of blood and death which caused him to both recoil and breathe in deeply. It was a conflicting feeling. You see, Rhean had always loved blood, but not neccessarily the stench brought on by decomposition. That did not stop him from leaving his manor filled with the rotting dead, the oldest of corpses had already exposed their bones as the insects gathers and flew around them, using the bloodless bodies as festering breeding grounds for both themselves and all manner of disease. Thankfully, the manor was not the only building within the complex, as a tower was refashioned into the home of both his son and his teacher, and the formerly oversized wine cellar had been turned into a laboratory. The manor, just like his own body carrying his wife's appeareance, was the rotting, despoiled corpse of something that was once beautiful, still considered useful by their despoiler. This was fine. After all, he had always been nigh immune to disease, save for the vile concoctions of even viler wizards, which he was now most definitely one of. Blood magic. A fever dream brought on by desperation and hatred of the world. To this day, he is unsure of the how and the why the magic of the blood came to rush to his aid when he needed it. Perhaps, it was an attempt by the Heartweald to help him save his son, but it ran astray as he dedidedly followed its darker paths to success. He still felt it, even to this day, a sense of shame and dissappointment, perhaps even horror, from the Heartweald. Clearly, he had stayed from its preset path, but that was to be expected, for if the Weald would have had its way, he would have surely ended up a miner. A chuckle escaped him as he thought this, realizing that perhaps it might have been a better alternative. The life of a miner here on the island is one colored full of blood, plus its not like he dislikes manual labor. A chosen wife, chosen kids, chosen job... it would have certainly been an easier, less tragic life, but he regrets not; defying it. For he was there to stand alongside the Cult of Power, even as the continent itself rejected them. His only regret was that he could not follow it through, to see it to the end. Either way, his musings found him inside of the transformed wine cellar, makeshift iron cages dotted the dark laboratory on the left and right, with the phantasmal screaming of souls echoing from every direction. Surely, a necromancer would have found much material to work with here... The thought of it had made the former paladin choke and wish for his manor to burn down entirely. Then he found himself chuckling again at the word; paladin. Paladin. Hah. He was no paladin, not even during his best moments, not even during his most heroic events in life. He, was nothing more than a tamed beast that slaughtered enough, ended so many lives that its bloodthirsty caretakers decided to give it a name. Combined together with his noble title of knight, it sure gave people the wrong idea when they heard of the man called Tyros. Tyros. That name was a combination as well, given to him by his own squardron, by his own allies, as he once butchered an entire enemy regiment inside of a garden of multicolored roses. It was as if a tyrant had gone through the place and slain all who would work in the garden instead of in his mines, so the lads combined the two motifs and gave Rhean a new title: The Tyrant Of The Roses. Tyros, for short. Or, maybe it was Tyrose? He wasn't really sure at this point and honestly, it hardly even mattered. What did matter however, was what he was going to do with Millery here. "Still alive, peasant?" The battered, bruised, despoiled body bound in rusted chains writhed and shook. "Y-yes.. k-kill m-me.." He briefly considered it, there was no more use for her after all, his son had been successfully cured, no matter how many other lives were ruined to fix his deceased wife's ultimate folly. "I'm afraid I have a far worse gift for you today." He chuckled, and found that his prisoner chuckled right back at him. "A far worse g-gift? What could you p-possibly still do to me?... You've already turned me into a beast, baron." And truth did she speak, for the formerly human woman was now adorned with garn-like ears growing out of her shaven, blue-beaten head. Her malnourished body sported a mattered, blood-stained tail and fur where no human should have any. Her feet were adorned by elongated, sharp nails, made crooked from repeated cuttings and regeneration, much like her fingers. A true, real, wolfwoman. "I grant thee the gift of life, Millery." She shook again, this time jerking her head upwards, her golden eyes shining with rage and shock. He had to give it to her, it was mainly due to her bearing the brunt of this animalistic experimentation, that he was able to give himself that glowing, golden eye color. It was quite the boon. "L-life!? You.. after all this, you would set me free!?" A nod came from her captor as he took hold of her chains and roughly pulled them apart without care. "I could just give you as a gift to Frederika, instead." She swallowed down hard and shook her head. "N-no! Please, life after this will the torment enough!" She pleaded and he nodded, though he did consider it. It was the revelation of Frederika's own unique features that allowed him to even consider the formation of his current body, after all. "Relax, I was merely joking." He didn't even bother to look at her as he tore the cell apart with his bare hand, the blood-rusted iron cringing loudly at his display of might. "... Rhean." Millery called out to him, by name, more than simply catching his attention. "You used to be a hero to the people, a commoner baron, born of our blood, someone we hoped would change things for the better... what happened... why all... why this?" After moment to ponder if he should berate her for disrespecting his title, he decided that it was a pointless gesture and simply stated the truth. "My son. Surely, you've heard of what happened to him. This, all this, was just experimentation, both on myself and on others, in an effort to fix him." He smiled, causing Millery's tired eyes to open wide. "A-a-and... you succeeded?!" "I did, indeed." He replied, face full of pride and joy. "A-and your son?! What will happen once he learns of what was sacrificed to heal him?!" Another smirk and smile. "Oh, you poor girl.. what makes you think I would have ever lied to him in the first place?" Horror settled in, as the implausible, inhuman nature of her captor was finally made clear within her shattered mind. Any notion of revenge, any sort of hatred she fostered mere moments beforehand, they melted away like nothing in the presence of this inhuman thing. She appeared as a beast, yet it was the rather beatific, feminine face in front of her that was the true monster among them. The sound of something striking the stone floor of her cell woke her from her trance, as she found presented before her, a golden key. "You'll need this to unlock the door to the manor." She felt herself swallowing down again as she picked herself up, alongside the key and ran out the cell, as fast as her withering legs could carry her. Rhean did not follow her, true to his word, and merely gazed at the morning sun from a small window near her cell. The sweet smell of wine could still be felt here. It gave him peace as he closed his eyes and contemplated... -- change of point of view -- Millery ran for her life, even as she was free, even as she was given the key to every single dream and nightmare she had in the past few months, she felt dread creeping up her spine. She found the reason why, quickly.. too quickly, as she rushed headfirst into the manor, hoping to avoid the guards and servants of the place, only to stumble across a somewhat fresher corpse, slamming headfirst into the blood-drenched flooring of the manor. Reality caught up to her in this moment, as she looked around and saw that nobody, not even the most loyal of the barons servants were spared. She recognized a face, a smug, evil-looking maid that "welcomed" her, into the manor, when the carriages of that wretched demoness in the form of a small girl brought her here, in chains. She recognized the maid, even as she was now, impaled through the stomach with an iron shovel. Her face and rotting form betrayed her intentions before dying; she was trying to flee, trying to reach for the door. The door that Millery now possessed the key to. Unable to hold it in any longer, the she-wolf promptly regurgitated what little food was left within her body, the nourishment which she hadn't even considered to question at this point, but looking at the chaotic mass and all the cut-open bodies around her... she had always wondered why was it that, when someone among the prisoners died, the others would find an extra bit of meat on their plates. She told herself it was just because the barons servants did not want to be punished for their deaths. She would still like to believe this, with all her heart. Cleaning herself up as the horror inside finally passed, she stood up, firmly, as much as she could, and forced her body to open the door of the manor, releasing its foul air outside and defiling everything in a kilometer radius. And just as she did this, several things happened at once! A mob of peasants broke through the iron gates, the large ones protecting the outer gardens, causing a staggeringly loud crack to echo forward. A witch, happily working away in a section of the baron's laboratories, watched as her concoction fell and broke itself on the floor due to the quake of the mob. @Myrinda A teacher, compiling his latest report to the baron about his sons successes; and failures, found himself spooked out of his concentration and turning his head around to see the charging mob. @Phosfasium A son, drawing on a pale canvass, sourrounded by his makeshift friends, found that the dog among them began to bark nonstop, warning him of impending doom. @Dray A cat, or better to say the ascended spirit of one, found itself attracted to the ensuing chaos and made its way to the manor. @Shal A sadist, having just woken up and made her morning tea, experienced an unfortunate accident causing her to spill that tea all of her own flowers. She took this as an immesely bad omen. @Frederika And the baron? Why, he had seen it all, through his little sunlit window, as the villagers gathered and kicked open the gates. He hadn't the time to outfit himself in full plate armor, but his son still required protection, thusly his sword and clothing alone would have to suffice.
  8. Having chosen to rest for a day and allow his bruises, as well as the more dangerous chemical poisoning, to heal, the dhampir knight found himself feeling energetic and ready for the next part of his journey; the village of Vitas. Ever since gaining the map and a good nights sleep, he had been collecting information about this place and little by little, the pieces would fall into place. It didn't take long for him to learn that dryads are well-respected on the Island, to the point that some people have begun to worship them as living gods. These people were based in Vitas Village and named their religious organization, the "Vitas Cult". This cult would no doubt defend their evil caretaker, as all dryads are known for their ability to increase harvests and bless the seedlings of crops, as well as heal wounded animals. Basically, they are a very important part Rathian life, with its entire agricultural sector viewing them as indispensable unless absolutely worthy of judgement. Even with the Living Vine provided to him by the wolf-form dryad, he doubted that declaring he has been given the right to slay her by one of her own inside of Nela's own seat of power would give him much to work with. After all, the evil dryad could simply claim to have been attacked by him and the vine is the result of that former engagement. Perhaps, the wisest decision would be to play the fool and simply go to meet her, as she had requested. After all, she didn't seem to stay around to figure out what happened to the bandits she sent after him, so perhaps she may buy the tale that he fell for her tricks, allowing him to assassinate her silently, which would complete the tast but not go well for his reputation. Or, maybe, just maybe, going to Vitas Village and making friends there would open up new opportunities for the knight. After all, a person as vile as Nela has likely made more than one enemy and the knight merely had to find his yet-hidden ally. @Aliester Magna Either way, fate's call echoes in his ears once more, and it is up to the knight to answer it, or silence it, once again!
  9. It still was the same day of her newest discovery, the day she was lift off the overwatch of the Island's Will. She just made sure that she could grow her creation to make a drug, so to make more profits. There was something strange happening all around her and it wasn't just the Island's Will, this time. There was another force at play, albeit seemingly not opposing her. The newest entry wanted her attention, and it got her full attention as soon as the paw-shaped soil spots started appearing around her, while she still was in her outer garden, the fruit of her just completed work still in front of her. Following the traces left by... something or someone, she sneakily and slowly entered her own house, ready to kick anyone that dared set foot into her shop without invitation. @Shal
  10. Hexfield woke up early today, spurred on by both excitement and urgency. It was rather chilly, for a late spring morning, but the locals had already informed him that this was simply normal. He had his paper flyers delivered around the city by couriers yesterday, curious things. Only backwater savages would consider taming dramatically oversized rocs to fit the same role as carrier pidgeons... Thank Primera he hadn't given his pants some extra yellow when the first of the Winterwing's made his ship's steel corners its landing point. That said, there was a clear ingeniuousness in this that he could not bring himself to deny. The locals, though he had never been here, seemed to understand what he wanted to do by heart, with a few of those he approached even asking to be hired already, which resulted in the quickest hiring spree he had ever experienced before. He already had all the workers and had spent much of the night, as well as the early morning hours sadly, filling out the paperworks required to finish the process. A smile was etched on his lips, for even if that was quite hard work, he still enjoyed having finished it quite so early. Sure, he was still tired due to a lack of sleep, but it was nearly noon now and he did drink a rather vigorous cup of relaxing tea after waking, so that was time. Done with his musings, Yvan flew his ship back to harbor and threw down its ladder to collect his workers, many of which were already there, right on time and waiting for him. They said that this is simply how they do things on the Island, but he liked to think it was just the people's need for money that spurred them into action. As clearly, this backwater barony required much more industry than it actually had. Still, with his workers safely boarded, he would have to wait some more time, just to see if some adventurers would turn up to safeguard his expedition into the wilds. @Orion Slatestout
  11. @Aliester Magna As the final gusts of wind scrape against the sails of the steam-powered airship that brought you to this strange land and blast away at the fabrics, you find yourself overlooking a long, moon-shaped coastal township. Port Reach, the name echoes in your mind, as your previous conversation with the ships captain comes to mind. Unconsciously, you test the name on your lips, feeling the taste of unfamiliar air and even more alien energies permeating everything around you. This land.. for a lack of a better term, it seems to be alive. It lives and breathes, as many shaman may tell you, but your peculiar senses allow you to see even deeper into the soil, to feel the very unnatural, and very real blood flowing beneath the land, seemingly dripping upwards from its earthen prison. A mystery indeed, but something tells you that whatever beings lie below are not the enemy. At last, you leap away from the ship and wave the captain goodbye, having paid him for your journey at its start. The bearded man nods in your direction, then looks away. You turn your head just in time to be blasted with a facefull of sunlight... yet, it does not harm you as much as regular light would. Almost as if this was not truely light at all, but something fulfilling a simillar role. As the light fades, you move slightly to the left, causing your pouch to clink with what few coins you have left; and reminds you of the reason why you are here. Almost as if called by fate, a brownish paper flies into your hands, a bounty set on a missing person, the daughter of a tavernkeeper within the Port. The only details the papers provide is the picture of a black-haired and pink eyed elf girl, dressed in casual, if quite boyish clothing. The Tavernkeeper is called Witts Mklay, and is the owner of a tavern named the Whistling Garn. It seems that fate is calling you, young knight. Will you answer its call?
  12. @Tyros It was another day like few of them, for Frederika. After long, long time, she finally managed to cleave a few days for herself, in her very busy schedule. Waking up the morning in her usual bed, in her room, she gets up, does her morning routine, dresses up and finally eats. Managing her plants was the next thing on her list. She started checking on the roof of her flower shop, passing through her home on the second floor. Once upstairs, carrying a watering can with her, she looks at all the vased plants and flowers around. This little safe heaven of her own was her treasured private garden, in which she grows her most favourite ones, as well as the rare ones. Taking great care of them one by one, checking their soil, their positions, their pistils and roots, she makes sure that they are healthy. Using her flower magic, she feeds them enough to last a while without further effort. She has to constantly check her plants in order for them to stay alive, otherwise the strange land she's residing upon would kill them. It wasn't an effortless job, but she prefered to sweat and manage her flowers more, than let them die. Spending a few more minutes on the roof, with the light of the sun shining on her pale skin, she just stands there thinking while enjoying her garden. Going back to the home, she heads downstairs where her lab is. Taking some tools and organizing them before even beginning, she reminds her own self of what she wants to do. This land has very peculiar plants, it feels like they evolved forcefully, yet they managed to mix within the environment to their best. But more are required, in her mind. She sees it, the possibility of making huge profits.. and as a merchant herself, she can't let the chance slip by. Not when plants are her passion. She recently came to know about a new little piece of information. Weird. Even after years of being here, she still manages to find new things about the island's flora. She heard about the Muckbrain Ferry, the greenish-black moss that grows on the surface of water granting hallucinogic effects to the water they float over, when this last is used to cook. This is in all means and feats, quite close to being a drug. Her brain started thinking about how to exploit it, in the previous days, coming up with a possibility. Taking an algae and imbuing it with her magic, she changes its properties to be more focused on absorbing the features of the water it is submerged in. After a few minutes of her chanting while looking at the light-green plant in her hands, she puts it aside, putting it in a box with some water inside, to keep it fresh for the few days to come. Knowing she had to travel through the land once again, she had another thought. The trees of the isle are quite a pain to deal with, when it comes to make firewood. Travelers do help each other to make piles of them, sparce through the whole island, where the sun shines more to help dry them quicker. What if there was an easier way? Or even better, what if she was to sell a new kind of wood especially to burn? It wasn't an uncommon thing, outside of this island, so why not here? With here prowess of her magic and knowledge, she would surely figure something out, sooner or later. She needed some kind of tree that made light wood, easy to carry around, dry and possibily, cheap and quick to grow. Going through the various plants in her head, one of them resonates better than the others. Bamboo. A special kind of bamboo, that is. She needs to change one kind of bamboo to make it fit on the rocky mountains that home the only rivers of the island. And make it resistant to the difference in oxygen from the usual highs it grows at. Going upstairs to the shop and looking for bamboo seeds, she only finds one kind that isn't really suitable to her idea. Still, she moves back to the lab, decided to change it over and over until she has what she wants, even if it takes a lot longer than she thought. Time passes and her magic slowly change the seeds to fit her vision of the plant. The only breaks she takes are lunch and dinner, the first being quite close already, after she was done with the algae and before beginning with the bamboo. Having a stew of Bulgeweed, together with a steak of Runehide Deer she was offered a couple days earlier. Not finishing the stew because of preferring the steak, she decides to save it for dinner, just to mix it with Marrowcaps she went out to buy. After dealing with eating for another day, she goes skipping back to her lab, where she finally finishes her lastest creation. The bamboo seeds were ready, waiting to be planted and bloom into long canes. Putting the seeds in a little leather bag, she takes the box containing the algae, carrying them upstairs in her living room and putting them inside her travel bag. Going to sleep early to wake up the next day, she had a pleasant night, sleeping soundly. Going through her morning routine once again, she ends up on the living room, facing the travel bag, when she had another idea. Before putting the bag on and start her little sortie, she goes to her shop, looking through her shelves and glancing over the flowers section. Moving her eyes rapidly around, she has to make a choice. Her hands move up to the shelves, picking up a few dandelions. These dandelions are completely normal, the exact same ones you would find anywhere, only exception their size. They are slightly bigger than their counterparts, having a few more seeds than them. Being really careful to not blow them away, she carries them to her travel bag, moving them to the table and then checking to have everything she needs in the bag, before putting them into a little box that goes inside the bag as well. Ready to begin her trip, she walks out of the shop after closing up every window and door, locking them, the last one being the main entrance. Turning the key twice, she puts the key around her neck, like a necklace, and then sliding it under her dress, over her chest. Turning around, she has the pale morning light shining on her, while she starts walking through Port Reach, her destination being the mountain north of the town.
  13. Aleksei

    [GS] Rifornire.

    ・・・】 God: Rifornire・・・】 God Slayer: @Metty・・・】 OOC: Thread Hot boulders were thrown against the tall buildings, knocking them down with ease and killing anything and anyone inside. The city has burst into flames, and the lingering fighters are trying their best to evacuate who they can and save what they can. Rifornire growls in agony, throwing himself around in a frenzy and prompting wildfire and stone to rain down.
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