Jump to content

Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'open'.



More search options

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


Forums

  • General
    • Introductions
    • Water Cooler
    • Discussion
  • Terrenus
    • Terrenus Roleplay Information
    • Cities of Terrenus
    • Wilds of Terrenus
  • Tellus Mater
    • T.M. Roleplay Information
    • Renovatio
    • Alterion
    • Elendaron
  • Genesaris
    • Genesaris Roleplay Information
    • Landmarks of Genesaris
    • Kingdoms of Genesaris
    • Orisia Isle
  • Other
    • Alternative
  • Roleplay Resources

Categories

  • The World
  • Terrenus
    • Herbology
    • Yh'mi
  • Genesaris
    • Orisia
  • Tellus Mater
    • Renovatio
    • Alterion
    • Elendaron
  • Bestiary
  • Resources
    • NUX
    • General
    • Lore Archive
    • Newsletter Archive

Find results in...

Find results that contain...


Date Created

  • Start

    End


Last Updated

  • Start

    End


Filter by number of...

Joined

  • Start

    End


Group


AIM


MSN


Yahoo


Skype


Discord


Gender


Location


Interests


Occupation

Found 779 results

  1. They'd been lucky to intercept a trade caravan from Tia heading to Casper. Luckier, that the owner had been kind enough to let them hitch a ride. Luckier still, that the caravan guards hadn't decided to rob them in their sleep, because as soon as she had taken off her pack and found a comfortable position to curl up in at the back of a covered wagon, surrounded by Tia's copper and chrome machinery, Carina had fallen soundly asleep. She woke as the first rays of sun slipped over the horizon, the noise of the seaside city's populace reaching her enhanced hearing. Covering a yawn with her hand, Carina stood, slid on her backpack, then peered outside. The caravan was slowly descending a steep slope, from which one could view the splendor of the city spread out below. In the distance, the Southern Sea sparkled gold in the early morning sunlight. Carina inhaled, tasting the salty tinge of the oceanside air. It had been a while since she'd visited any of the main cities. Most of her days had been spent in Aurelium Inc., then in the wilderness of Taen. A bit of civilization is nice. They left the caravan after it had entered the city proper, thanking the owner for the ride. As soon as they departed, Carina glared at the crowded streets. Casper's roads were choked with pedestrians and noisy mechanical vehicles, filled with the bustle of life and activity of Terrenus' primary port. The scents of food, fish, and human grime filled the air, drowning out the freshness of the ocean breeze. I don't miss this, Carina thought. Wordlessly, the woman strode off, making a beeline for the nearest tavern. The Stately Hero Tavern & Inn. It was slightly quieter here, at least. There were around half a dozen patrons - some probably those who were staying at the inn. Carina slid into a seat at the edge of the room. "Whatever's good for breakfast," she told the server girl who approached. When she left, Carina finally allowed herself to sigh. She glanced at Liir. "This is Casper, one of Terrenus' main ports. Any questions?" Time for some exposition, now that we're settled and less likely to get murdered in our sleep. @ourlachesism
  2. Aleksei

    Wandering Roads

    “Listen, I just wanted to know the price on this scarf and nothing else!” Like talking over a storm, he thought while wearing an exasperated lopsided smirk. The woman didn't like him, and that's perfectly okay in his book, he didn't harbor any love for her either, but damn it! All he wanted to know was the price; it's not like he insulted her ancestors or anything. The likelihood of him buying it was extremely high; was the right color of red, fit just like a glove, and he could justify the purchase. Her ranting and raving at him were only knocking the item down in price, and he was becoming extremely irritated by her attitude. She said something that made him look down at his appearance - come again? He'll have her know that his armor was the best and just because he chose to wear it fashionably doesn't make him some haphazard knight. There are generations and generations built into the black armor, he’s not going to let some wrinkled old hag insult him because he may not fit in with the rest of the crowd. What gave her the gal? The man stood six-feet and at least - at least! - five inches and she was standing up against him like he was just a breeze to her mountainous impersonation. “Listen! I will give you what you want for it, just stop yelling at me!” Harshal said a prayer for the old woman’s family, because if she was his granny … “Wait, what?!” Just as he fished the coin out of its pouch, she slapped him with a preposterous number. He looked at her like she had three heads (matching the current two already protruding from her short frame). “Who has that kind of money?! It's a scarf, a scarf! Did the All-Creator wipe her ass with it?!” By this point, a small crowd of onlookers gathered around the stall to put their noses in not their business. Entertained by the sight of this giant man arguing with an old woman, some felt the need to stick around and see who was going to win this tug-o-war. Harshal is not going to bend knee for this hustler in wrinkles; he is also not leaving without the scarf. Now just a matter of principle, she was wasting his time throwing numbers she’s probably pulled out of her ear, but he’s no fool. He could care less if she’s a lady probably older than dirt itself, she started this whole thing by being snooty with him, and he’s not going to back down. @ourlachesism
  3. supernal

    Military Base #34

    Artist: ned-rogers Note: open to members of the military only Purpose Inspired by Daniel Sage's Base #33, the purpose of this military base is to serve as a central meeting hub for members of the military that want to interact with other soldiers outside of missions. Examples of the kind of activity that make the best use of this hub are: Rest / idle time going into, or coming out of, an active mission Practicing skills and maneuvers relevant to your unit Making use of specialized tournament and training fields for those wishing to spar, practice combat, work in teams, and so on. Practicing coursework in the library or with members from other departments to shift from one branch of service to another or to collaborate on mission intelligence Layout Bali's Bistro: A 10 mile march away from the base is Bali's Bistro. If the food in the mess hall is too bland or not alcoholic enough, visit Bali's Bistro for food whose "not free" price tag reflects an uptick in quality and alcohol. Library: Since the advent of the Crook and its connections to TSM, this base offers public access terminals to TSM stored data. A smaller number of military terminals can be used for encrypted communications and access to confidential data. Mess hall: An attached edifice where a soldier can go to get their three square meals a day and chat it up with other soldiers. Food served only at 8AM, at 12PM, and at 4PM. Potemkin village: A small dummy village has been setup nearby for saboteurs to destroy and engineers to rebuild. Training fields: Specialized rings and fields for those wishing to spar or practice combat in simulated environments, both one on one and in small teams. Security It's a military base. Not interested in making this a combat zone.
  4. Piperpie

    Little House in the Mountains

    The air was crisp and clear from the cold night's chill. The moon was full, and the sky spattered with stars. Everything was quiet. Peaceful, even. There lay a small clearing nestled between the trees and the base of the mountains. The ground was a blend between rock and grass, and mostly flat. Over a small canopy of trees beyond this flat ground lie a river, a perfect supply of fish and fresh water. It gurgled quietly, not wanting to break the hush of the night. This place would be perfect. A large wolf, its fur mottled with grey and browns, sat at the edge of the clearing with the mountain to its back. The huge creature would have been nearly invisible to the naked eye, blending in with its environment almost completely, except for its piercing gold eyes that glowed through the shadows. Those eyes took in everything. The sky, the ground, and the trees beyond. She nodded slowly, approvingly. This place is beyond perfect. Ziva rolled off her haunches and onto her paws, her thick claws digging into the clay-like ground below her. She trotted across the clearing. She closed her eyes, focusing on her nose. The air was clear of any stench, she could not smell any markings of one who may have come before her. This place was untouched. Unclaimed. Now it belonged to her. She slowly began making her way around the clearing, rubbing her thick fur against every trunk, and digging her paws into the unmarked earth. The scent glands located between her toes left a satisfying smell on the sparse grass and dirt. Mine. Werewolves were very territorial. Once something was marked as theirs, they would not hesitate to fight to the death for it. Ziva felt this way when she first laid eyes on this clearing. Ziva padded back to where the ground began to incline, and stretched into a laying down position. There wasn't much more she could do under the blanket of the night. The rest of the tasks she would like to do to this land were human chores. Humans slept at night, so those chores would have to wait until morning. Ziva rested her giant head on her paws, and sighed heavily. She always had trouble sleeping at night. She missed the deep sleep that she could always get to when she was human. For now, she was happy with a nice doze. Her eyes were closed but her ears were at attention, flicking and rotating every now and then to check and double check for any unusual sounds while she was in this vulnerable position. Enjoying the cool breeze of the night and the soft wind that tickled her fur, Ziva waited for morning.
  5. KittyvonCupcake

    Book|Ends [Hub]

    Book|Ends OVERVIEW Whether you are searching for a novel on the Daily Weekly bestseller list, an original handwritten account of a half-mad ancient prophetess, or an enchanted tome that grants its owners the power of spontaneous levitation, Book|Ends is here for all of your literary needs. Currently located in the Northeastern part of Ashville, this multileveled building resembles what would happen if an architect fond of columns smashed a historical university’s snobbish library and a museum with a lot of stairs together and then filled it to the brim with books. A set of massive double doors, crafted of heavy wood imported from the Dark Forest, leads one into the Main Room. It is an expansive area, noted for its patterned marble tile and the wooden bookcases that stretch along the walls. Natural lighting pours through skylights and large windows, which have been enchanted to filter out harmful rays that may cause any damage to the texts on display. A fountain, minimalistic and elegant in design, is situated before the collection of shelves containing fictional works. Two desks for customer service are built against the walls on either side of the fountain, as fitting with the symmetrical theme of the store’s architectural structure. Employees at these desks conduct purchases, appraise mundane books for sales and returns, and contact other associates for special requests. Displays advertising suggested literature can be found atop small tables flanking the rows of main level shelves. Off of the Main Room are quieter reading areas, noted for their selection of comfortable seating. The reading areas are decorated with a more bohemian flair. Plush rugs from the Arcane East line the floors and various works of art, ranging from Classical period oil paintings to contemporary prints, can be found clinging to the wall spaces not overtaken by shelves. Rarer works of literature can be found in these separate rooms. A private office is situated in the back right-hand corner of the store. The door is rarely noticed upon first glance, as it is crafted from the same dark stained wood as the bookshelves and seems to exude an aura that wards off potential visitors. “Mister Draug Rhavon” is embossed in silver upon the door. It will not disappear no matter how hard the Mister Draug Rhavon in question scrubs and scrapes at it. Another set of double doors, smaller than those that serve as the front entrance, lead out to shaded courtyard full of exotic plant life. A koi pond and seating provide a scenic respite from city life. The Second Level is where one can find nonfiction work. There are two sets of stairs that lead up to the upper floor, as well as an elevator located at the back of the Main Room, near the restrooms. Like the Main Room, wall to ceiling bookshelves are found on this level. Because the upper floor overlooks the lower, it is advised that customers avoid dangling over the balustrades. The fall would be most unpleasant. The Second Level contains the Retrieval Request Desk, a circular structure that mirrors the fountain’s design. Employees manning the Retrieval Request Desk appraise enchanted tomes, scrolls, grimoires, and other forms of text that house magical properties. They also process requests filed for the Retrieval Specialist team and handle payment from clients. This can be done in person or through holo-calls, official directives signed by a notary (or another authority), messenger imp, crystal-powered communication spells, smoke signal, blood sacrifice, or politely worded letters. Six private conference rooms can be found off the main wings of the Second Level, as well as a two rooms dedicated for Tome Translation and Minor Book Repairs, respectively. The cafe, once overrun by arcane-enhanced raccoons, is now fully functioning and provides the best selection of tea south of Blairville. Might I also recommend sampling the mille-feuille? Beneath Book|Ends lies the Basement Level. Closed off to the public and well protected by systems both mystical and technological, the Basement serves as a Storage Facility. This is also where enchanted texts and magical artifacts are brought for safe examination before they are placed on the Book|Ends Catalog. Copies of the Catalog are available at each Help Desk. Individual copies can be delivered to anyone on the Book|Ends Mailing List. If any customer wishes to examine an item housed within the Storage Facility, an associate will bring the requested object to one of the conference rooms upstairs for the customer to inspect in private. The Book|Ends staff would appreciate it if customers could refrain from summoning eldritch beings or becoming possessed by malicious spirits hellbent on earthly destruction. Every written word that passes through these doors is stored within the Book|Ends database. Although it is accessible to associates only, Book|Ends does accept requests for assistance with research for a negotiable fee. If one wishes to conduct their research alone, associates can pick through the database for the best reading materials pertaining to one’s quest for knowledge. All it takes is one simple question. NOTABLE EMPLOYEES Draug Rhavon Ioreth Rhavon Godric Uldwar CURRENT EVENTS As the event’s title suggests, Book|Ends is hosting a weekend long special that invites local craft breweries to sample their wares in store. Poets, authors, research analysts, and the rest of those odd folks keen on slapping words onto paper or other mediums have been granted the opportunity to sign copies of their work, provide readings and lectures, and have their pick at the free food offered in the courtyard. Anyone that spills their drinks will face such harsh censure that they may pray for a swift and merciful execution. Live musicians can also be found out in the courtyard. One can only hope that they manage to refrain from awakening the beast that slumbers at the bottom of the pond. Ioreth Rhavon, Head Retrieval Agent, named it Steven. She likes to feed it grapes. REQUEST LOG To Be Announced FLYERS Want to advertise your own business, event, organization, or enterprising character? Shoot me a PM and we can showcase it here. (Contact @LastLight for all your blacksmith-y needs.)
  6. COTH The town of Church On The Hill a Low Tech setting The History: 4/18 Church on the Hill, or Coth as it is commonly called, is a growing town in Terrenus just beyond the domain of Blairville. For many years, the eponymous church stood alone atop the highest hill in the region. It was once the center of a populous parish in the ages before the great cities of Terrenus came to dominate political and social life. In recent ages the church stood as more of a watchtower and repository of old knowledge than as a hub of community. The Gaian religion, to whom the church originally belonged, grew lax in replacing deceased clergymen as the location waned in importance until the building was occupied by a mere single man who was forced to live off scant alms and the generosity of local farmers and friends. This man's name was Constans, and though he prayed every day to the great mother of his religion, he had long given up hope that his faith would be rewarded. Times changed, as they are wont to do, and the Church on the Hill bore witness to even further degradation. In the wake of a faraway civil war the patrolmen, nobility, constabulary, and military of Terrenus receded away from the rural lands the church stood watch over, abandoning the fertile farms and meager hovels of its agrarian people. Once the protection of the nobles and their armies were gone, evil began to take root. Monsters and beasts not seen for years began to creep from the deep places of the world, and men turned on each other in banditry and violence. The people cried up to the sky and down to the earth, but found no peace. Meanwhile, Constans watched in horror as families dragged corpses by their hundreds to his church for burial. Starved men and women, murdered children. The peaceful age was ending. Yet one fateful night, a tearful Constans called out to anyone who would hear, any god or great spirit who would ease the suffering of the people and of one broken priest. Miraculously, his call was answered. A great fire exploded inside the church, blowing the very roof off the building and blasting a column of mystical green fire into the sky like a beacon. Among the flames, Constans fell victim to a fit of great and terrible visions portending the rise of a new world. For hours, the priest was held in the clutches of these mad prophesies, all the while safe inside the tornado of green flames. When it was over, and the flames subsided, word began to spread across the land. Those who had seen the miracle had rushed to witness it themselves, and had seen the priest among the flames. Others, hearing secondhand stories, flocked to the ruins of the old church to hear the preaching of a holy man who had been chosen by green fire. He preached a message of a new social order in which the people worked for their own good and organized under no higher authority than that of a god. Men were weak, the priest proclaimed, and their promises were illusions. Only the power of a god could be relied upon to hold together a mortal realm. He encouraged his followers to work and share in equal measure, to respect each other's property and freedom, while submitting themselves to the will of a divine monarch-- not some self appointed human king claiming to speak for a god, but a king who was a god, and an authority which no man could undo. It was not long before this appealing promise of protection and community drew huge crowds of abandoned farmers, cobblers, blacksmiths, porters, cooks, healers, herdsmen, and laborers. Seeing himself at a crossroads of destiny, and urged by the whispers of a god, Constans proclaimed the masses of scared commonfolk to be one sanctified people, the people of Coth, the seed of the new world. 7/18 Coth has begun to achieve the dream of its founder, yet while its people celebrate a feast, a cohort of powerful raiders charges toward the nearly defenseless town. The Thread Setting: Coth is an open, low tech, persistent locale characters can freely enter or leave as they like. Coth itself is a 25 square mile area which includes a town of approximately 4000 arranged at the base of a tall hill upon which sits the famous, half destroyed church. Coth has a small-town feel. People are familiar with each other, helpful, and oftentimes oblivious to subtlety. The townsfolk are overwhelmingly derived from the lowest rung on the social order of Terrenus. Many have never seen magitech, or magic for that matter, yet what they lack in formal education they make up for in skill and spirit. They are working class people, and their work has helped the town of Coth spring up around the ruined church with alarming speed. Rather than have individual threads, I have elected to tell all stories in and around Coth in this single thread. This will give the town a sense of continuity and permanency, in the hope that actions taken by one player can impact the experiences of others. Often, stories told in Coth will be submitted for canonization, and canon events will be featured here in the first post to help inform newcomers and regulars of developing events. If you're unsure how to enter Coth, or aren't sure your character would fit its low power, low tech setting, message @Vansinfor assistance. Resident Characters: Coth has an agreement with the esteemed booksellers and loremasters of Book|Ends, who have arrived to advise Constans as he seeks to develop Coth into a model society that can inspire a world-spanning change in religion, morality, governance, and civilization. A tribe of Ice Giants, led by the mysterious Yahweh, has also made a pact of nonaggression and mutual aid with Coth, and their embassy hosts a quartet of hulking giants who smith for and protect the fledgling town. These character can be found in the town, and their writers are invested with moderator authority within this thread. If I am not around to ask questions, please contact one of them. At the Present: A raid! Canon Quest: Repel The Raiding Party! Defend the innocents of Coth from the barbarian raiders by any means neccessary! Questor 1: @Spooky Mittens Questor 2: @KittyvonCupcake Questor 3: @Better Than Gore Headers & Graphics The below graphics have been made for us by the renaissance woman @KittyvonCupcake. While these artistic headers are not mandatory, text headers are highly encouraged to discern where the many characters occupying this thread are. Concerning headers (lifted from an announcement on page 2): Graphics examples:
  7. The Red Festival Within the deepest and darkest parts of the Dark Forest, dim and low burning lanterns could be seen leading through a man made path towards what could only be described from afar as a dull source of red light with the deep thrumming of a foreboding bass like sound that nipped at the frontal lobe of the mind. On the path towards the light there walked hundreds and hundreds of beasts and monsters that had infested the nightmares of good men and women. Creatures that were of a lesser breed by their standards. Old Guard Orc clans known for warring and killing one another in an endless struggle to prove dominance and strength. Trolls of the darkened swamps where witchcraft and hoodoo thrived in a society based around sacrifice and ancestral spirits. Kobolds that crafted and mined the deep and rugged mountains. Lizard folk, Rat folk, Gnolls, Kenku, Drider, Yuan-Ti, ascended undead, and even the occasional Lich. All of them traversed the path leading to the faint source of light in the surrounding ethereal darkness. All of which would arrive at one defining location. Red. Crimson. Scarlett. All the various shades of red could not prepare one for the sheer volume of blood that was the final destination. It was as if one massive cadaver has painted the forest red. Banners soaked in the blood of the innocent were strewn across a massive clearing within the Dark Forest. Crude and almost childlike paintings of roses and other flowers were hung from trees next to the corpses of innocent human civilians that had been nailed to them to help stimulate the decor of the festival. Hundreds of booths, tents, and other temporary structures were erected and lined the massive clearing to serve food, drink, and sell various goods. A massive center stage had been built at the center of it all and sitting beneath it was a literal pool of blood. A large pond filled with the life force of what could of been hundreds of souls. All of it was like a punch to every sense the body could muster. The sights, the smells, the taste in the air itself. Grilling flesh and meats being cooked over flames. Music singing through the air only to accented by the screams of the men, women, and children of Tormo that had been tied to posts throughout the festival and were being stoned, tortured, or even eaten by the ravenous guests of the festival. Perhaps thousands were in attendance and the party had yet to officially begin. The energy in the air began to shift as more and more people drew into the party, and with the beginning round of drinks being served to their guests. Someone stepped onto the center stage. The black armored villain himself. Dredge was here to start the celebration right. He would not make many demands of his new people. He only wished to give a brief statement. So with a spell that amplified his voice his presence boomed across the clearing. ”Greetings, my children. All of you have been gathered here to be merry. To have a place where you can drink and be what you were born to be. To be what these humans would call you. Monsters.” His voice was steady as it leaned into the crowd. Showing them their insecurities. But no, when I look out at all these faces. I don’t see monsters. I see my people. You are all my brethren. I don’t see The unincluded, the vilified, the dregs and mobs to hunt down and kill to make the world a safer place for them!” Slowly his voice picked up to become louder and louder to tap into their anger over where they stood. ”Not here! not now! Tonight! You are all equal! Tonight! You are all family!” As heads all turned to Dredge in sudden awe smiles of both hope and evil light up their faces. ”I AM DREDGE!! SLAYER OF MAN AND DESTROYER OF WORLDS AND I ORDER YOU TO FEAST!! DRINK!! AND FORNICATE THE NIGHT AWAY!!! WELCOME MY FAMILY TO THE RED FESTIVAL!!!” If Dredge knew anything, it was how to work a crowd, and with his Wolf of Wall Street moment over it was time to bask in the reaction. Roses of delight and excitement ripped through the night air like a bat out of hell. The Red Festival had begun and it had started in a frenzy. Every where one looked bars, games, food stands, and posts where prisoners were kept were positively packed and alive with the manic energy that Dredge had inspired. Let the party begin.
  8. HumanBean03

    The Blasted Badlands

    “Ah, you can’t find freedom like this anywhere,” Fawkes thought to herself. She was soaring over the windswept sands of the Badlands and the thermal updrafts were perfect this time of day. The wind rustled in the brown, black and white feathers of her 6-foot wingspan. Though the Badlands were extremely inhospitable to outsiders, it was home to Fawkes. She was one of the few Avians left in Valucre, as most of them thought that the world had become too populated with cities and settlements for them to be able to fly free. Her small tribe, consisting now of her brother and his family and a few of the other young Avians, moved to the Badlands after Odin Haze’s attack on Blaurg Mountain where they had been living for nearly four generations. But the move was not easy, they left Blaurg Mountain with 15 and now there were only 10. Some abandoned the group and flew back to the mountains and the flight out of Valucre and some were lost to the harshness of the Badlands. They created their own sort of nomadic tribe and even managed to befriend the Mahrjan tribe and setup a loose trade network with them. The Shai-leuth elders believed that the Avians were warriors of Gaia because their wings allowed them to be closer to the light of her glory. But today she was out enjoying one of the cooler parts of the day and seeing if she could spot anything worth trying to hunt. Fawkes was the best hunter in the flock, her keen Avian eyes were like those of a hawk and could pick out even the smallest prey, she almost always managed to bring something back for the flock even during the most extreme parts of the year. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something glint from the sand, she banked her wings and wiped the dust from her goggles. Beneath her she saw a sand-rat foraging through the sunbaked earth. Unlike normal rats, sand-rats were as big as wolves and had even worse tempers. Fawkes grabbed the Vakar spear from her back, flew up higher and then dove. She tucked her wings close to her back and felt the wind blow through her hair and sand sting her face. As she neared the ground, she snapped open her wings and threw her spear. The rat let out a long shriek and bared its teeth as the long double-sided blade buried itself in its side. She flew toward the sand-rat and pulled her spear from its side. In one swift motion she pirouetted in the air and slashed upward with her spear. The sand-rat let out a gargled scream and toppled over. “Not a bad catch. This will be great for tonight,” Fawkes said as she began cutting up her prize. The sun was beginning to set, and Fawkes knew that she would need to get back to the camp before even more rats came above ground. Stuffing the last of the meat and useful parts into her bag Fawkes took off and flew back to camp.
  9. Etched in Stone

    Chateau De Choisel | ENTER AT RISK

    The moon shone splendid white, in the obfuscated ominous sky, it was the main wellspring of light that could be seen for miles. Beneath its bright glow, lay heavy gates, icy to the touch should you dare open them. Revealing behind them the sight of a little grave yard. Owls, crows, and swarms of vampire bats shudder overhead, their silhouettes casting hazy shadows across the broken stones of those long lost and dead, their eyes watching you as you approach the Château. The uneven cobblestones underfoot, worn smooth from years of use, pitted from years of abandonment are littered with dead leaves and branches that crunch under foot. The path winds its way through a labyrinth of graves, hedges and leaf barren trees creaking in the wind. Pathetic patches of dead grass, dull and dim as though it had lost the will to live and quit its quest for growth. And a single desolate oak, influenced by the breeze whispering into the perpetual night with its leafless branches. All leading up to the grand Château Choisel. Enhanced as it was with foreboding figures and carvings, these Gothic touches stared out with blank marble eyes, gaping mouths, horns and claws spoke of vile evildoings inside. Château Choisel, carved and built deep into the mountain side, stood poised, its dilapidated exterior a mockery to the grandness hidden within. The way to the entryway was congested with hedges and briers whose thistles gave a last effort to stop an unknowing visitors progress. Pruned plants, long dead and abandoned flanked the steel swinging doors. They easily swing open with surprising silence, a sound counter to their dilapidated state. The ghost of hand on the shoulder, a puff of breath on the ear sends chills down the spine, characteristic responses to the sudden drop in temperature enough to drive one back toward the way they've come. The clucking from an imperceptible host and the flutter of movement just out of sight - all lead to one conclusion, this was not a safe place for mortals to tread. Counter to its exterior, superfluous and ornate with a desire for decoration; builders worked tirelessly to design décor and ornamentation to the Chateau. Patterns, shapes, and detail worked together to create a visual effect that was both imaginative and impressive. The interior of the Estate tended to be unique and rambling in its complexity. Multiple bedrooms, second-floor balconies, double doors, ornate stairways, and detailed interior trim. High ceilings, deep archways, carved woodwork, and ornate chandeliers set the stage. A formal dining room ensured enjoyable meals. A library stocked well with books and with a sprawling fireplace provided comfort and warmth. Spacious parlors located throughout the home provided occupants with formal living areas for welcoming guests. Parlors usually featured ostentatious décor such as tasseled draperies, heavy tapestries, dark wood, fireplaces with fancy mantles, and gilded wainscoting. Area: 400,000 SQ FT Population: 1200+ - - - - - - - The Great Hall A multifunction room, the great hall was used for receiving guests and it was the place where the household would dine together, including the lord of the house, his gentleman attendants and at least some of the servants. From time to time it might also serve as the lord's courtroom. The decor as grand as it was imaginative, lent to the greatness of the hall and its importance. Paintings and tapestries, telling stories long lost hung on the walls, framing the ornate molding that encircled grand windows. The large bay window dominating the center wall, offering a glimpse out into the courtyard that lay beyond. The high ceilings supported by thick dark oak beams with paintings of the coat of arms looking down on the visitors, reminding them of who's benevolence they were seeking. A minstrel's gallery lay above the screen entrance to the hall, a little alcove from which music and joviality echoed across the expanse of hall and bounced gaily off the walls. At the other end of the hall, upon a raised dais, sat the head table, its heavy oak frame imposing to all who approached. Only the greatest of the great and most trusted of the Lord and Master would be honored a seat at such a prestigious place. Beyond the dais, behind a heavy oak framed door, the Lord and Master's family private rooms were concealed. A kitchen, buttery and pantry lay on the opposite side of the screen passage. Here lay the largest fireplace of the Chateau used for warmth and some of the cooking, so large a person could stand within it. It had an elaborate over mantle with stone carvings and plasterwork containing coats or arms, heraldic mottoes in Latin, caryatids and other adornments. Though the kitchen itself lies a level lower for the bulk of cooking. The great hall would be rigged with a listening device system allowing conversations to be heard in the lord's bedroom above as well as throughout the entire Chateau. The upper hall contained the Lord and Master's living quarters and bed room, a testament of comfort, lavishness and sin. Off one end of his quarters one had access from the external staircase tower from the ground-floor hall. The smaller ground-floor hall, directly beneath the Lord and Master's quarters, remained for receiving guests of social order. Its adornments and décor just as lavish as the great hall itself, a taste of the rest of the grandness that lay within. Teasing all who entered, filling them with a desire to be invited into the inner sanctum of their Lord and Master. Bed Chambers The Great chamber, the resting place for the Lord and Lady of the Chateau, lay above the ground floor hall. Its ceilings too painted with the crests of the families that presided within the residence. Walls draped with heavy tapestries, and windows that overlooked the courtyard. A large bed dominated the room, the dark oak a stark contrast to the tan of the plaster walls. Red drapes hung from the bed, concealing its comfort and warmth within. A set of lounging chairs were tucked to one side of the room, right near the fireplace. A place for the Lord to entertain his Lady....or other guests. A separate sleeping quarters was built into the structure for servants and attendants to sleep a short distance away from their Master. Ready to answer his call at any time of day or night. The castle hosted a myriad of other rooms, apartments built into the mountain as the residence grew. No windows graced these rooms, but the glow of candles kept it forever illuminated. These rooms were decorated and intended to hold guests rather than residents. Permanent residents were granted other small apartments or rooms based on their status and rank within the Coven. Each one a unique blend of its inhabitant and the history of the residence itself. All dominated by the dark oak that flanked the walls and ceilings in an attempt to support the structure. The Solar A private sitting room for the Lord and Master's family. Its intended audience the Lady of the caslte, a private and quiet getaway for her to hide from the noise of the day should she feel the need to. It is decorated with tapestries and paintings of various types, many pastoral scenes and landscapes. A fireplace not too large and not too small, decorated in a similar fashion to the great hall, hosted ornately carved oak. Upon it's mantle sat a grandfather clock and a vase full of black, thorny roses. It was a secluded spot, away from the great hall, located in the back tower of the outer Chateau, not built into the mountainside. Kitchen Located on the east side of the estate, away from the castle, covered by an arcade. Its location strategic in keeping the smells of smoke, and noise of the bustling kitchen staff away from sight and earshot of guests. Frying pans, pots, kettles, waffle irons, and utensils hang over adjustable cranes that could be easily swung away from the fires to keep them from burning or boiling over. Utensils were often held directly over the fire or placed into embers on tripods. The kitchen staff numbered in the hundreds, including: pantlers, bakers, waferers, sauciers, larderers, butchers, carvers, page boys, milkmaids, butlers and scullions. The kitchen was fully built and equip to handle to the stress of preparing two meals daily for several hundred people. A large woodshed located outside the kitchens held at minimum 1,000 cartloads of wood and a small barn held coal for burning. A pantry room kept the food, dishes and provisions stored and served. Sometimes it served as an isolation chamber for a naughty maid or disobedient page boy. The kitchen also boasted a larder and buttery located within its walls. Chapel Built with three levels, two intended for worship. Its plain decor and focus on worship pressing in upon its prayerful visitors the weight of their religion. The bottom most layer, located beneath the castle, was intended for the catacombs of the Lord and Master's family. The second level, a place of worship for the residents. The third, an ornately decorated level, complete with balcony and chairs that overlooked the second level, designed only for the Lord and Master himself. Off of it a small chapel, perhaps containing a relic, ornately decorated with gold. Cabinet / Library The Library, tucked within the folds of the mountain, was a testament to books gathered, well cared for and stashed away for centuries. Shelves lined the walls, their dark oak free of dust at all times. Comfortable furniture dominated the center of the cool room, the flickering lights from candles in hanging cast iron chandeliers lighting the room adequately enough to read. Hidden away behind a bookcase door, that only the Lord and Master would know about, lay a private chamber with the most valuable books. A place him to do his work undisturbed by guests. A gleaming desk made of mahogany was centered in the small room, a large wing backed chair situated behind it. Boudoir The boudoir is the private suite of rooms for the lady of the house. Specifically for bathing and dressing, adjacent to her bedchamber. The boudoir was also used as her private drawing room, intended to be a sanctum for her to embroider or entertain intimate guests. Dungeon Located in the deepest darkest bowels of the castle, the dungeons hosted prisoners. Its dank walls leaked limestone water coming from inside the mountain, always damp and the air cold. Walls thickened and enchanted to block out the sound of screaming, agony and utter despair of those locked within. It featured no windows and no candles save the torches the jailers used to see as they navigated its narrow hallways. Prisoners were crammed into small cells with no place to sit, often dropped down into them from a trap door located above it. There they struggled in fear, forgotten, until their mortal souls passed from the world and left behind their rotting corpses and eventually nothing but bones and dust. A single torture chamber was situated in the far corner of the dungeons, filled to the brim with various tools of torture, they lined the walls. A long wooden beam that was situated over a stone basin was used to string up prisoners, the basin to catch their blood. Feeding Sanctum A sanctum of sin, located deep within the mountain, a "dungeon" of sorts, used for feeding. A series of prison cells hosted volunteers or varying races and types, all there for indulgence. Dimly lit for ambiance, the light from the cast iron chandeliers flicked across the plaster walls. In exchange for their services they are greatly compensated by the Lord and Master. On a wall opposite the cells was a small bar, there others can come and partake in sins of a different kind. Injecting, snorting or inhaling their drug of choice, reveling in the ecstasy that is rush of chemicals. Here too one can find and have the popular and valuable Elixir of Life, for a cost. They are hosted in clean cells after their ingestion of the brew and held there until after their change. Falconry The circular stone structure boasts itself as the home of pigeons, falcons and eagles used for the hunting pleasure of the Lord and Master and his esteemed gyests. Housed away from trees or areas were predators could take advantage of the important assets. Courtyard Walk through a set of large double glass doors located off the great hall and you will find yourself in a courtyard, whose rival knows no others. Hosting a variety of moon surviving plants, vivid and dark blues, pinks, purples, reds and greens dominate the landscape. Pathways weave through batches of poisonous and deadly plants. Here is the gathering place of men and women, all in an attempt to catch the attention of another. Whether their intentions good or bad, all gather here to try. In an abandoned corner of the courtyard lays a peculiar patch of carefully tilled and cultivated herbs. Out of place in such a deadly and beautifully dark courtyard, it is filled with bright greens, purples, reds, and browns. An enchanted, fake sun hovering over them to encourages them to grow in the perpetual night. Wooden stakes with strings tied to between them outline the perimeter of the herb garden, cautioning all not to step on the delicate plants. Similarly small wooden labels stick out of the ground next to clusters of herbs like fresh little grave markers. "Medical" Clinic Located off the courtyard, not far from the small patch of herbs, built into the remains of a garden house, lies the Medical Clinic. Its two front windows shaded over with lacy curtains, obscuring the scene within. Through a narrow wooden door with dirty and warped four square window at the top. Above the door, a white washed sign reading "Medical Clinic," leaves no mystery as to the structures purpose. Once inside, the large room is divided by a paper screen. The front of the room dedicated to treating the living, chairs, shelves, and a table are used to heal. Behind the paper screen, lurks a laboratory of haunting proportions. The shelves are stacked and lined with jars filled with various and strange objects, empty vials and needles neatly organized. A line of counters frames half the room, upon it sits a towering plant. Black in nature, with red leaves, if one were to look closely they would see the outline of razor sharp teeth within the beast. In the center of the room, a sterile examination table lay with a large light above it. Beneath it various tubes, syringes, scalpels and other tools. In the far corner of the room a large clear tube looms nearly up to the high raftered ceiling, currently empty. Looking up at the wood beam supported rafters one would see herbs of varying degrees of dryness. A rickety ladder tucked off to the side used to climb to its heights. The air smelled of basil, lemon and preservatives. The underground escape tunnels Beneath the castle weaves miles and miles of tunnels, all with the purpose of providing an escape for those within should the worst happen. The entrance and exit to them is only known to the Lord and Master. *Since we have many locations listed, please make sure you're specific in which area you are in with some type of "" or >>. Thank you and enjoy.
  10. Floracle Flower Shop and Apothecary - Grand Re-Opening OOC thread Though it was barely 7:00am, Valentine Marie had been awake for hours. Her morning had consisted of coffee, sweeping, floral arrangements, coffee, dusting, re-arranging the flowers, coffee- and though the Floracle Flower Shop and Apothecary was spotless, sparkling, and splendid, Val just knew she was forgetting something. The young woman's tawny red hair burned in the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows as she stood in the center of the shop, staring around her with uncertainty. The counters. Of course! The counters needed to be polished. Again. Valentine swiped a polishing cloth from the supply cupboard and began to knead the old gnarled counter with furious circular motions. She had been at it for at least ten minutes when the sound of the courtyard door creaking open drew a wild look from those sky blue eyes. Her polishing grew in intensity as she called out, "I'm so sorry, but we open at 9:00am! Come back lat-" "-Haven't you heard of the 'early bird' special?" Valentine's ears perked up, her lips cracking into a wide grin. In an instant she had leaped into her twin's arms, holding his head in something akin to an affectionate vice grip. "Caspian!" she shouted, her voice carrying the shrill excitement of a person who has been reunited with their best friend. To his credit, Caspian did not immediately drop his sister after receiving a scream directly to the eardrum. He wouldn't have succeeded even if he'd tried; Valentine's arms were still locked around his neck with surprising fierceness for someone of her size. The scholar tried to choke out a 'hello,' but only managed a strangled gurgling sound. Blissfully aloof to her brother's suffering, Valentine held on for a moment longer before loosening her grip to hold her twin at arm's length. "My, you've grown so much taller since I last saw you!" Her bright blue eyes twinkled as she beheld his stylish scholar's uniform. "The academy has turned my baby brother into a handsome young thing!" By now, the botanist's hands were squishing her twin's cheeks together in a comical, fish-lipped expression -much to his chagrin. He batted weakly at her hands, though was eventually able to force them down and away. "It's been two weeks," the mage said, hefting an exasperated sigh. "Two weeks. And you're only older by, what, 20 minutes?" Valentine barked out a laugh, watching as her brother took a look around the colorful, splendorous shop. "You've really cleaned up the place. He left way more stock behind than I remembered." The main shop area was bursting with floral blooms, most of them native to Terrenus, but a few hailed from lands as far as Aelindra and other temperate regions of Genesaris. A spell of longevity would keep the beautiful blooms intact for weeks longer than ordinary flowers; indeed, though imperceptibly different to the untrained eye, older cuts were mixed into the fresh blooms spread throughout the shop. Part of the purpose behind this grand re-opening was to purge the store of older stock to make way for newer, more exotic flowers. It pained Valentine to think that the last flowers her grandfather had cut before his death would be gone after today. His death hadn't been unexpected, but the weight of his old silver secateurs still felt heavy in her pocket. She offered her brother a slight smile. "I actually grew most of this in the past week or two." His head swung sharply in her direction. "You did what? All of this?" The woman nodded, sticking her hands in the pockets of her light blue skirts. "Have you slept, Valentine?" The botanist shrugged, swiping her polishing rag off of the counter to continue the fretful chore. Caspian noted the slight bags under his sister's eyes, watched her hands tremble a little as she worked the soft cloth in methodical circles. He ran a hand through his mop of red hair. "You know, one of the most important things they teach at the Academy is not to overexert yourself," he said, his voice careful but not without the note of haughtiness typical for a recent graduate. "Casting too many spells in so short a time can be especially taxing for someone without formal trainin-" "The shop looks beautiful, doesn't it?" Valentine stared up at her brother, though her hands continued to polish the old, gnarled countertop. "After today, we can slow down. But you were the one who told me we needed to make an impression." Caspian stared at her for a second, his mind whirring behind those leaf-green eyes. After a moment, he removed the round-rimmed glasses from his face, polished the lenses with a corner of his tunic, and replaced them on his head. "Alright," he spoke, shrugging the jacket from his shoulders. "How can I help?" One would find it difficult to pass by the Floracle Flower Shop and Apothecary on this particularly sunny, breezy morning without at least admiring the rainbow of flowers bursting from dark wooden stands lining the sidewalk. The storefront itself was characterized by elegant, floor-to-ceiling windows, letting the golden light flood into the shop and accentuate vibrant blue floor tiles. Upon entering, one was immediately accosted by a heavy floral scent, though pollen was kept at bay by a clever containment spell crafted to accommodate customers with allergies. The shop itself was simply adorned, with a few ribbons and banners marking the re-opening celebration; the flowers themselves were the main attraction, with blooms lining the walls in layers and layers of color and texture. Display stands were strategically arranged throughout the shop, with different categories of flowers featured in each spiraling column. Every stand had been handcrafted in a dark, heavy wood by the previous shopkeeper, mimicking the bark of a tree. The shop was clearly a valued, well-loved heirloom, with hand-carved floral designs embedded into every visible wooden surface. The only thing not hand-crafted was a small bulletin board to the immediate right of the main entrance, displaying various flyers and advertisements for other shops around Casper. One bold sign spelled out the words 'ROOM AVAILABLE FOR RENT: CONTACT VALENTINE MARIE' in a sensible green font. Further back into the shop, one faced the option of either ascending a grand staircase up to a balcony overlooking the main area, or entering through a set of glass sliding doors to another room. The upper level balcony featured a forest of ferns and other tropical plants, with lush vines and leaves spilling over the railing. This curtain of green partially obscured the windows of the room below. If one chose to pass through the glass sliding doors, they would enter a room with dried herbs and ingredients in neat glass containers lining shelves along the wall. Other ingredients were strung from the ceiling, necessitating particularly tall patrons to mind their step. An island in the center of the room allowed the resident apothecary to advise customers on the best spells and ingredients to suit their needs; if the customer so chose, the apothecary would mix the ingredients before their very eyes to create charms and tinctures, then package the goods in a brown paper parcel tied shut with a string. On the righthand side of the apothecary's room was another glass sliding door, this one leading to a greenhouse made of shimmering, green-tinted glass. Though normally inaccessible to the public, today the greenhouse doors were unlocked and awaiting visitors. Upon entering, one would find rows and rows of pots of every shape and size growing all manner of plants. Aided by a spell cast with love, it was possible to watch the sprouts lengthen, produce leaves, and bloom before one's very eyes. Hanging plants dripped leaves from the ceiling, and the bright sunlight glittered against an artificial creek trickling across the greenhouse floor. Another swinging door allowed visitors to exit the greenhouse and enjoy the quaint courtyard beyond. The courtyard featured several tall, proud trees that were already bursting with apples, oranges, lemons, peaches, and every other fruit imaginable- often several different types of fruit could be spotted growing on the same tree. The thick branches provided some shade for visitors who rested at modest tables set up throughout the yard, or for those content to meander the space, admiring the well-manicured garden. A picket fence nearly hidden by twisting, nimble vines separated the courtyard from the sidewalk, though all were welcome to stop and enjoy the garden- even if they did not seek the Floracle's business within. Another swinging door connected the courtyard to the shop; the entire lot was arranged in a roughly square 2x2 grid so that the courtyard was directly adjacent to the main shop. Valentine busied herself in offering pastries and coffee to incoming guests (the food had been catered from a local bakery, though Val wanted to incorporate a full-on coffee shop at some point in the future). Patrons were often surprised at her habit of suggesting just the right flower for their situation, and the shop soon swelled in warm emotions and wonderful smiles. Caspian stood at the apothecary's counter, offering his advice (even when unwarranted) to customers who sought something stronger than flowers. His advice was good, and his manner was friendly, though the young scholar had a habit of excitedly spouting information at even the slightest prompting. A simple spell handled the packaging of ingredients and charms, leaving Caspian free to peruse the shelves at his leisure. As the activity began to pick up, Valentine took a moment to gather her thoughts and gaze around the shop, inhaling the scent of her home with a slight smile on her face. A new chapter in their lives had begun.
  11. Grimshar

    An Iron Grip

    Tad whistled to himself as he strolled through the crowded streets of Aelindra, weaving through the people like a minnow among his school. To an outsider it would look as if he was completely at home among the people, wearing a tastefully skintight button up shirt, and a pair of summer slacks, he was about as common of a sight as you could get during a weekday. He had eschewed the use of his normal equipment, the bulky protective gear would only serve to draw attention, and possibly suspicion, to himself. He carried only his clothes, a pouch of small denomination coin, and what he considered to be a socially acceptable weapon of self defense, a small dagger kept sheathed at his belt. Even in a city as large and wealthy as itself, there was always the risk of being attacked, it would go against all of his better sense to walk around unarmed. He had been in the city for a few weeks now, he had been staying in a small hotel on the west side, it wasn't as nice as some of the other places that he had seen but it provided him a good location from which to start his morning operations. Every morning after preparing himself for the day, he would use the crossroads to travel to another part of the city, where he would immediately queue up to travel to another location, he would repeat this a few times before going to his actual destination. This served a few purposes, it attempted to prevent someone from determining his actual destination by visiting several proxy locations in between, it also allowed him to monitor the people who came through the portals after him, anyone that he saw follow him through several hops was likely watching him. If there weren't so many locations in the city to hop to, the tactic might not have worked, but he had gone his entire visit without using the same portals within a three day period, hopefully avoiding the scrutiny of any of the portal guards. His purpose in this city was to steal a valuable prototype, one of several that had been created, which were unregulated by any governing body, and necessary for the survival of one of his friends. He had heard of a tech similar to it when he was traveling through Union City several months back, and upon hearing that the same company was developing a significantly more advanced version, had promptly greased a few palms to find out where they were being developed and tested. One thing led to another, and he found himself making a trip to Aelindra with the intention of finding out more; that part had been easy, the engineers at the company had loose lips that were eager to talk about their project. The past few weeks were all about information gathering, subtly talking to the people involved with the project, researching the building layout, finding out what company ran security for them, when the busiest hours of the day were (and conversely the slowest times of day). His destination now was the security company in question, they had the layout of the building, the number of guards, and the patrol routes, all in one convenient location. He had already run through his limited knowledge on counter surveillance and was comfortable to proceed directly to the building. It was more of a warehouse, squat, only a few stories tall, with large cargo doors and a plain grey exterior. A sign was fastened securely to the building, just above the visitors entrance, proudly declaring the location of "Aelindra Tactical Response". The building was a combination of steel, stone, and wood; it was actually a curious piece of architecture, the original building having been made from stone, and the later additions made from framed wood. Security was tight, as you would expect from a company that sells security as their service, armed guards at every entrance, on the rooftop, and likely posted in the hallways. There was no way that he could go in the building, and sneak past them all, or fight his way through them. The security was just as tight at night, something that had irked him, they must have some high value clients to warrant such extreme measures around the clock. So he would revert to what he did best, pyrotechnics. Fire, or rather smoke, was a huge concern in a building. If you got yourself trapped in a burning building, odds are you would either suffocate or burn to death. So he would light a fire to flush out the people inside, and hope that anyone left inside would be too busy hunkering down in a safe area to spot him. He had a vague plan too, enter the public area during the confusion and pretend he was returning to get something vitally important, sneak into the operations area, rifle through the files until he found the right one, and then get out. Easy enough, right? He slipped easily out of the flow of traffic, ducking into the narrow alleyway that ran along the western edge of the building, it was probably six feet across and bordered one of the wooden walled expansions. Foot traffic was low, the alleyway dirty, perfect for starting a fire. He would have a few minutes once the first started to move back to the south side of the building, where the entrance was, to wait for the rush of people exiting. He hoped the files he needed weren't on the second or third floor, that would complicate things, and he wasn't sure if there was a basement, which would be even worse. He placed his hand on the wall as he strode, casually laying a thick layer of his special combustible material on the wall in a thick stripe. His hand started going numb, almost like it was falling asleep, as the blood drained through his pores to create it. When the stripe was about twelve feet long he stopped, stepped back, and lit it on fire. The whole stripe erupted with a whoosh, flames licking greedily up the side of the building, the material would burn cleanly, the wood would not. He turned back towards south opening of the alley and trotted off, slipping casually back into the flow of traffic to await the subsequent discovery of the fire, and the panic. Then, he would enter the building in search of the files he needed.
  12. notmuch_23

    The Mil Dot Lunaris (the establishing)

    This is the Mil Dot Lunaris: a firearm store that the kind of items that Americans could only dream of, and ammunition types most people don't even think are possible. Outside, there is a switchback staircase in the front leading up to the front covered porch, which continues to the left and right sides beyond the trees. Wooden tables and chairs provide places for people to sit and eat. The front wall is mostly wood-framed windows, surrounded by profiled trim and cedar shakes. Suspended rope walkways also connect to the porch at different places.The windows themselves are triple-pane ballistic polycarbonate, three inches combined, with argon pockets. There is a ramp to a freight elevator on the loading dock for people who can't or won't ascend the stairs, as well as deliveries. A large sign stands on the front roof, with the Mil Dot logo (and name) laid in very white oak with dark ebony. The inside has two areas; the public area, and the private area. The public area takes up 70% of the volume and reaches through the supports all the way up to the underside of the roof decking. The back roof has the same windows as the front wall, and the same density. During most days, the only light needed is in the cases. All of the walls have cedar paneling, all of the lights are warm white LEDs connected to a direct current system, and rock maple covers the floor of the store portion. The eatery is separated only by the line where the maple flooring meets the yellow cedar. The same wooden furniture sits in this area that sits outside, and a wall from floor to ceiling separates the public and private sections. The freight elevator opens up from the "private" area on this wall in a way that does not allow the public free access. Restrooms flank the elevator shaft. The cases that line the back and left sides are heavy, with teak-covered metal frames holding heavy ballistic polycarbonate panes. Rifle racks and heavy cabinets sit behind them, with register terminals between banks of cases. Sharp-eyed observers may even notice the ample tinted camera domes, the Browning M2 and Mark 19 emplacements and firing slots up on the walls and roof sections. The private area is just for people who work here, which includes the kitchen, storage areas, office, utility spaces, and where Thurgood and Aveline live. The only coatings applied to any of the wooden surfaces, inside or out, are clear varnishes and resins, all designed to show the wood's natural beauty. Overall the structure is actually stronger than the trees supporting it. Inside the non-window walls is not just insulation and wiring, but heavy ballistic fiberglass and polycarbonate panels that combined can stop a .50 BMG full-metal jacket round. There is a full inside-outside water deluge system and chemical foam nozzles for fire supression (as well as flame-retardant varnishes and resins), large-scale greensand and DE filters and UV disenfection for water with two cisterns in the "private" area of the roof underside. A 10,000-gallon septic system with integrated grease trap remove waste from drainwater before returning it to the jungle. 80 individual 100-watt solar panels stick above the canopy to charge forklift cells in the utility area (that has ventilation to prevent hydrogen buildup). The forklift cells then power everything else either directly, or through a three-phase pure sine inverter. The Mil Dot accepts lots of different currencies, but the most prominent is this metal exchange: 1 oz of Tin = .25 USD 1 oz of Copper = 2 USD 1 oz of Silver = 10 USD 1 oz of Gold = 50 USD 1 oz of Platinum = 100 USD 1 oz of Rhodium = 500 USD. These do not reflect prices in the real OOC world. Now with Out Of Cartridges (OOC) thread!
  13. Synchronized iron covered boots stepped across the dirt roads of Terrenus’ rugged wilds. Like thunder the heels of a well trained and well equipped force marched as one to grow ever closer to their objective. One that was undoubtedly going to be of blood and death. Hob-Goblins, the despicable and vile creatures of the mountains that would come down from their hiding holes and pillage the lands below for resources. Only there was something very different about these beasts. They all wore uniform armor and were equipped with identical weapons and gear. Where normally these mindless animals were but mere rabble to be slaughtered, these were organized, intelligent, and well trained soldiers. All of which were marching in tight columns that stretched down the road. A hundred men all ready to kill and do so efficiently at a moment’s notice. This was due to one driving fact. At the helm of the formation, he stood. The black armored behemoth that had only graced Terrenus for perhaps a bit over a month, and he had already brought death and slaughter to hundreds. Dredge, the traveler from another world that had been brought here to balance the scales. To show Terrenus that they had grown comfortable in their ways. Content to fight the never ending battle of good and evil and drawing a line in the sand of what he considered to be false morality at its finest. The demon was here to do one thing today and one thing only. Acquire party favors. The Red Festival was in a week and they simply didn’t have enough prisoners from raiding Tormo to cut it. So it was time to go shopping. Though Tormo may of been gone and it’s survivors taken into protective custody, the surrounding villages were always up for grabs. Tiny little nameless places that always had enough people in it to serve up as a side dish. ”Halt!” Dredge yelled out and the disciplined formation came to a halt behind him. Staring down the hill he and his forces were perched upon, there it was. A suitable candidate. A village consisting of perhaps ten to twenty small huts and an inn or two. The perfect place to gather up waiting families and farmers to be a part of their little party. With a smile beneath his helmet, Dredge gave a little chuckle and looked over to his men. ”Kill a few to make examples of them. The fighting men, preferably. I want the women and children alive to be taken to the festival grounds. Is that understood?” Giving his orders with absolute authority, his strike force of Goblins grunted in response and readied themselves. ”Bring up the dire wolves as well. I don’t any of them fleeing into the forest.” And just like that, Dredge has sealed their fate. A horn was sounded and soon descended from the road was the strike force of hob-goblins giving out shouts and war cries for the coming slaughter. Screams of panic came from the village and it was music to Dredge’s ears as he calmly and casually walked down the hill and towards the village. It was best to let the children play a little before he came to collect. What fun.” The game was on.
  14. Hurttoto

    The Diplomatic Arrival

    [LEXDORD CAPITAL CITY] It was a nice day in the kingdom of Lexdord, as the morning breeze echoed itself throughout the land bringing clear clean air along with it, it was warm as the sun rose from its depths of darkness. The king had been awake an hour before, as he was prepairing to meet with some diplomats. In his floating castle made of gleaming marble he was measured and had talors fabricate a thinner more fit clothing for him. "How does diplomacy work again? Its still kinda a funny subject to work with" The informant merely said that to be friendly with others and by agreeing to neutral grounds to gather freinds is of an upmost importance if this kingdom was to last. Lewis however had diffrent plans, he wasnt thinking about staying forever for eventully when his crew find out where they are in the cosmos they would set off immediately back home. At least that was the current plan of course making some friends wouldn't hurt. Laying around the table were the other surviving members of his crew and the city mayors, meny whom have not been properly introduced. The chatting was going around as reports came in through telephone networks and screen showcasing the latest economic status of the kingdom, the one type of product that was still slugging behind was food, and agriculture products. "Lets hope that these nee comers offer food" The royal adviser whispered. And was quiet awaiting for the guests to arrive. (Its not too short is it?)
  15. Fright Night It was like any other night in the wild and rugged lands of Terrenus. Winds softly whistling through the pines, mist that danced off the rivers and lakes, and the good people of the small city of Tormo were settling down for night. All of the natural beauty of this land was bathed under the milk light of the moon. Everything in the world was simple, it was easy and life was good. Tormo was a rather small city out in the wilds of the continent, more of a large town really. Once an old trading post, it now was a bustling town that lived and harvested the natural splendor of the environment around it. Truly it was a place where people from around the wilds could come and trade, restock on supplies, and as of late the growth and economy of the town had been booming they could settle there. This was due to a lot of the chaos that was Terrenus. Between multiple wars and even the macro level events that currently gripped the continent, a lot of people found that life was still easy going and far removed from most bloodshed that effected the city states and folk. Out here a person could live off the fat of the land and have a peaceful life, and that’s what people did. Truly it was a beautiful and one might dare to say heartwarming feat of human and demi-human kindness and strength that allowed races across the aisle to come together and do their best as one. Tormo was a testament to that and everyone for the most part was happy. But before you get the idea that this is a happy and uplifting story into your mind. It’s not. People often forgot the trade for living such a nice and comfortable life in the wild. There were monsters. Eyes. Deep blood red crimson eyes opened and shined through the evergreen tree line’s darkness. Not just a single set, but what seemed to be hundreds that all gleamed much like a predator stalking its prey in the dead of night. All of them stared down at the large town and in the center of it all, standing tall among the others were a pair of mad and deranged eyes and beneath it a illuminated Cheshire grin of glistening white fangs spread across what was without a doubt a horrific face that was hidden by the shadows of the forest. Darkness had gathered here, and they were ready to make their first move. ”Everyone knows the plan.” The deep baritone of the villain’s voice radiated outwards in a soft reminder to those around him to call them to arms. There was no speech, no fist pumping, or impenetrable shield wall with iron and fists clanging against it as their leader let out a booming war cry. No, none of that happened. The voice commanded and inspired fear, courage, and bloodlust beyond most’s wildest dreams with three simple words. ”Kill them all.” And just like that, the order was given. Howls. Beast like and filled with the most furious pitches of anger and rage broke the stillness of the calm night air. Women and children stirred from their beds, guards began to clammor from a lazy and half assed excuse of a fire watch. But it was too late. Like a swarm of ants to the life giving carcass of an fallen animal, from each side they rushed. Goblins traveling to near every side of the wall, joining them was the occasional massive Bugbear standing at around six to seven feet tall. They had easily crossed the distance with the town guard still scurrying to mount a pathetic defense. Surging and crawling up the wooden walls of the city, dozens of goblins had crossed the threshold into Tormo and were within its walls with more on their way every moment. They carried with them torches, blades, and brought death and destruction to those unlucky enough to cross their path. The attack had begun. ”Team A, prepare yourself. Let the goblins mold into the city before we make our move. Let it burn.” It was almost time to make the plots and plans of this group of scum and villainy a reality. ((Mood music))
  16. Life would almost be comedic in nature if it weren't so inherently sardonic. One moment you are on top of the galaxy, your empire reigning supreme with countless races, creeds, civilizations either bowing to you or being turned to glass in your wake. However the universe in its never ending chaos is predominantly fickle in what it bestows then so cruelly reaps at a whim. This is the case for one such tortured and maleficent soul known as Dredge. Hailed as the Supreme Overlord of his once mighty empire, he had it all ripped away at the hands of the enemy. A champion of light and good that had struck him down in the last epic battle between good and evil. But before the last blow was struck that would end his wretched existence, the universe showed another feature. The ability to be capricious in its choices. In the split second the overlord was ripped from his reality and forced to gaze into the omnipresent and ever expanding cosmos that is existence. Shredding his mind to pieces our indifferent universe cast the once powerful man into a new world, somewhere that had yet to feel the malice and pain brought on by his unending rage. This is where our story begins. In the wilds of Terrenus, where the plains stretch forever and mountains touch the sky. Within the thicket of woods there lay an dark armored figure clutching a bone-like bastard sword as stayed in an unconscious state. Darkness. An abyss of Stygian blackness near reminiscent of death had clutched the vile Dredge. Was this death? He asked himself as he seemed to drift across his own subconscious. A lifetime of conquest and genocide had finally been put to an end. Or so he thought at least. Life had other plans for Dredge. Ones that would shake the very roots of this world, but the first step to get there was waking up. A task that seemed to be nigh impossible for the supreme one. "Hey, Mister." A young voice pierced the void and rang against his ears. "Are you okay?" The voice asked once more as it grew louder and more defined. "Are you okay, Mister?" Again the voice rang out and pushed the darkness aside. Light began to form and blurred images of brittle brown lumbering objects came into view. Slowly the world began to take shape and become whole once more. Scents of wet grass and leaves filled the nostrils and the sensation of touch returned to him as a few prods and pokes came from what felt to be a stick. "Are you dead, mister?" The voice asked of him triggering the last few senses needed to return to the land of the living. It all came flooding back to Dredge. The last few moments of the battle when she struck him to the floor and was about to deal the killing blow. Though her face was obscured in blurs, Dredge's fine tuned senses caused a immediate and instinctive response. Like a predator laying in wait, the overlord snapped upright and wrapped his iron clad fingers around the soft flesh covered throat of whatever had been prodding at him. The world refocused back into definition and Dredge could now look at his surroundings. A thick forest covered the surrounding area. Trees and wilderness had laid claim to this earth and the annoying beasts that often came with it. The songs of birds chipped above head and soon that noise was broken by the panicked gasps and chokes of the life form he held in his hand. Suspended a few feet in the air by Dredge's raw strength. A young man of perhaps teenage years, a boy really; stared at him with eyes that darted from one side to the other like an animal that had its throat bitten into. Further inspecting the child, it was clear he was humanoid by anatomy with fair skin and blonde hair. Perhaps he knew something of this world. "Where am I?" Dredge ordered in a commanding tone. However the boy did not speak. This was most likely due to the fact that Dredge had his hand tightly wrapped around his throat and refused to lessen it. As panic grew more and more the young boy began to flail and kick at Dredge in a desperate attempt to escape. A small chuckle escaped Dredge's lips as his mouth curled into a smile beneath the blackened helm. "There are other ways of making you talk." Dredge said as he lifted his free gauntlet covered hand and reached towards the boys face. Reaching inward to use his power, the force that gave him such destructive abilities, he focused on entering his captives mind with it. Though as he began his spell, nothing happened. His powers had left him and he began to feel the air around him had no such energy for him to pull down. This alerted him of one now clear and horrific fact. This was not his world. Hell, this was not even his universe. This was a place dead to his magics and force. Like a child throwing a tantrum, Dredge let out a beastly howl that was accompanied by the cracking of bones. Falling to the ground was the corpse of the young man. This was not happening. This was fake, it couldn't be real. Yet, reality was a bitch. Soon after a few moments of panic and dread, other sounds began to push through the mix of birds and wind against leaves. Voices, and those that were nearby. Stepping forward, Dredge grabbed his blade and soon began to push his way towards them. Step by step he made his way to the tree line where a small sleepy village could be seen. Men, women, and children all seemed to live life as if there were no cares in the world. They were removed from the hustle and bustle of city and town life where they could live peacefully in isolation. Now Dredge knew nothing of this world and barely anything of the one he came from. But he knew one thing, and it was death. Staring out at them another smile came to him as he gripped his blade tighter. It was time to begin. A new age would dawn on this world. The age of Dredge. (( We are in the wilds of Terrenus at the moment. Feel free to enter however you'd like. Just remember to be flexible and fair)) Character sheet: https://www.valucre.com/topic/30108-dredge/
  17. Rebellious Rose (Inn) Another bar type of establishment that also provides as an Inn for any weary travelers. Matching much of the towns design as a medieval establishment, the inn is yet another establishment with good food, great drink, and a lively atmosphere. There are 20 rooms in the upstairs, each fit with a bathroom with a bathtub/shower, a television, and a mini bar. There is a telephone to call for room service is needed, which is considered within the cost of room rental. The inn was previously managed by the Captain/Knight of the guard, Lawrence, but has recently been bought over by Kyle 'Angel' Sander, the last of the Pegasi. Unlike in the Tavern of Legend, the staff here work tirelessly to clean up the messes of their patrons, sometimes simple things like shattered plates, but at others entire holes in the walls or craters in the ground. The center of excitement and pleasure is the pub, where several velvety chairs surround brown wood tables. The lighting is romantic, and meditation music is constantly played through a disk. The Rebellious Rose is a great base for adventurers to spend their nights at when out questing in the morning. The Inn has two unique features, namely a gambling den manned by a retired bounty hunter, Connor Fortesque, and a sparring room. If adventurers wish to spar, they can enter the room as they wish. The walls are enchanted with Dark Energy, causing one's soul to be extracted from their body upon entry and returned upon leaving. This allows sparring combatants to incur no injuries, except maybe to the mind. The staff are still experimenting with new ways to make soul combat safer for patrons. Staff Kyle "Angel" Sander - Owner @Crossbone Edric Carter - Manager @CrimsonAurora Rachel Azraelian - Sparring Room Supervisor @Alternative Connor Fortesque - Gambling Room Supervisor @Sapphire Blue Alyssa Cooper - Bartender @Alyssa Coops
  18. Though the outside was pristine, orderly and minimalist, the inside was warm with terracotta walls, bold patterns, high arches and cheerful, bright lantern light. Wide windows framed by wooden shutters let light filter through, illuminating lacquered mahogany tables and floors. Each table sat low, an engineering feat of interlocked pieces held in place by pegs that allow the staff to adjust the tables to greater heights for the evening crowds. Colorful futons were sprinkled throughout the area between tables, and fluffed pillows adorned the cushioned couches that were interspersed with ottomans. A long stretch of counter space where led towards the back kitchen, accessible only by the staff. Along a section of the counter were. The floors always feel warm, and the breeze from the open windows makes the enjoyment of tea all the better. The menu was rumored to be local and seasonal, based on what the gardens could provide. Laconian market provided fresh produce, dairy, and meats, while the fishermen caught beautiful salmon that were passing through the streams at the base of the mountain. A portion of the counter was lined with baskets filled with fresh baked goods from breads to cookies, some which came as suggestions to pair with a favorite tea. A set of stairs going up leads to the inn, while a second set of stairs vanish into the cellar floor. After lunch in the late afternoon, the Sadira Amar would close its doors for a few hours, and make its transformation as the staff would rearrange the furniture, close the shutters, change the menus, prepare the rooms on the upper floor where patrons could rest. A fire would occupy the grand fireplace along the far wall, the cellar would open as kegs, barrels and caskets of alcohol would make its way to the kitchen. The meats roast and the potatoes cook as a rousing night of bustling business come and go. When the doors open, patrons know they are always treated to a good time, and always come back for more. -- Welcome to the Sadira Amar Tea and Tavern, a long-awaited dream of Raveena herself and the age-old tradition of tea ceremonies. Feeling as though the practice of tea-making was a lost art, she swore one day she would open her own tea house—a dream that became a short-lived reality when she met her husband and they built a tea house over their workshop. When the siege of Predator’s Keep came about and most of the city was razed, Raveena lost both her husband as well as her dream. With the coming of Hyperion, change was in the air. Determined to make her dream a reality, she built her workshop underground adjoining the cellar—endearingly named the Crucible after her late husband, with the Sadira Amar on top, and an inn as the second story. By day, the Sadira Amar is a quaint tea house and café, serving weary travelers who need repairs to their weapons while recovering with a light meal and tea. By night, the tea house is rearranged to accommodate the rowdier tavern crowds. Meals, drinking, gambling and entertainment keeps the staff busy. Patrons pick up orders for custom weaponry soul-forged by the Raveena herself, or prepare for their next adventure while getting a feel for the local life. Though the Sadira Amar is known for its good-natured rowdiness, few have been turned away, and invoked violence is prohibited. Above all else, no one goes without a warm meal and a full cup.
  19. DarkHorse

    Under The Hot Desert Sun

    Khepri's feet traversed the familiar, invisible path that wound through the sand. The giant tusked beast that walked beside her carrying all she needed, except water, she trusted the beast to find water - and it usually did. White and red paint decorated it, marking it as her's, around its neck and tusks hung the bones of small animals she gathered. The clacking sound they made kept away the sand cat's, big ferocious animals that preyed on anything that moved or breathed. Their expert feet easily walked across the sand and around the bones of long dead beasts that didn't survive the harsh heat during the day and the cold at night. After 5 years of exile she could finally return. 5 long years of selling her sword and her talent to make a meager living. That was the custom after all, 5 years in the outside world would at least erase some of her "shame." Now she could return to her temple and resume her rightful place, priestess to the high Sun Goddess. The long days of travel were hard, the heat welcome, but uncomfortable after her time in a milder climate. Her trained eyes spotted the tall lookout posts that marked the beginning of the main path to the temple. Typically two priestesses would perch there and keep a lookout for newcomers - good and bad ones. Khepri let out a chirrup sound, a common way for Priestesses to alert the others to their presence. Eerie silence met her ears, she tried again and yet still no response.... Something was horribly wrong. Khepri clambered her way up the gajah and urged it into a run. Its feet eating up the sand and creating a dust storm behind them. She covered her mouth and nose with her wrap and pulled from the void her sword, prepared for trouble....As she passed the guard posts, she noticed that there were no lookouts, her sisters were not there - even more strange. She urged her gajah even faster and the sandstone temple came into view, the wall that protected it looked crumbled and broken in places. As she burst through the broken main gate, a cry ripped from her throat. The temple was abandoned - the once carefully tended and lush gardens destroyed. The sounds of song and work were gone. She entered into the temple to find it was looted, destroyed, only the outer walls stood and the rest inside was burned. Even more egregious was the smashed remains of Sun Goddesses statue, her ever burning flame snuffed out. Instead - in her place - stood a crude statue of a man. One she knew all too well, the very one that caused her shame. With an angered yell and a swing of her sword she removed the head off the crude statue and swore on the Sun Goddess that her temple would be restored. This once peaceful place amidst chaos and war and cruelty. The one oasis built to aid any and all that were faithful to the Sun Goddess. The only place that had the clear cool spring to provide a steady flow of water. It now lay in ruin, the charred bones of her sister's scattered about. She crouched, picked up the skull of her fallen sister, placed her forehead to it and let out an anguished cry, mourning her loss. Khepri would spend the day gathering their bones and properly burying them in the depths of the temple. Next she would restore the Sun Goddesses flame, the oil stores left untouched in their hidden cove. As the sun set she wrapped herself in warm furs - a luxury that she obtained from the places she traveled - and she plotted the downfall of the godessless bastard that destroyed her life not once - but twice.
  20. Old Man Jean

    Learning the language. [Open]

    -----> Directly following the events of Unwelcomed Guests Itylra panted hard, her eyes focusing deep on her blood stained hands and off pink colored dress, once white and elegant now coated in a mixture of the vile lifeblood of giant rats and her own. It had been a narrow escape, but a simple glance at her surroundings told Itylra she was hardly safe. The air of Terrenus was so clear, the sky was unbelievably vast beyond the tops of the massive trees which seemed to stretch on forever. The sheer scale of the place dwarfed the demiplane she once called home, or the one that housed the Tavern of Legends; it's scale was making Itylra head spin; or so she thought. In reality it was a mixture of blood loss and arcane withdrawal, her Star Elf constitution struggling to maintain it's supply of arcane energy which it normally obtained from the arcane dense atmosphere of her home plane. While Terrenus likely contained more overall arcane energy in the atmosphere it was less dense, and her body was struggling to replace what it was not obtaining from without by producing it within. The effects were immediate and jarring, where Itylra's eyes were once like a sea of stars they were now a simple gray, and under the dark blood which matted her hair her platinum sheen had begun to fade, becoming more and more translucent. Struggling to her feet the Star Elf walked on, hoping to find some kind of village or city soon, it had been well beyond a week since she had eaten, drank or slept, the events of her homeplane followed by those of the Tavern of Legend giving her little chance to recover. The moments were compounding on each other, leaving her weak and vunerable; even more so then she ordinarily was. Gripping the menacing short sword in her right hand hard Itylra continued on, unsure of which direction to head and unaware of the reality of the dangers of being covered in blood in a forest full of beasts. She could only continue on, her pace slow and her body demanding frequent breaks. Feeling her consciousness slipping Itylra began an exercise in her mind, recalling each and every word spoken near her by everyone she had encountered since escaping from her homeplane. From the villagers who guided her to the Tavern of Legends, to the patrons at the Tavern, even Dredge and the mysterious woman whom had allowed her a chance to escape the menacing titan. It was a simple idea, meant to focus her mind and do her best to remain conscious while also trying to understand the common tongue of the land. With each step her mind played a word and matched a motion or expression to it, and with each step her knowledge grew if only a little.
  21. Intro - The Black Anvil Hymn is a weapon and armor shop ( no horseshoes, nails, wagon wheels, ploughs, etc to be found here ) owned and operated by Stello Lavis. Coming from a wealthy family, he was able to afford to set up in the downtown metropolitan area of Hell’s Gate, a move that would have seemed otherwise strange if it weren’t for the country’s fixation on combat, which has resulted from a variety of different cultural aspects of Terrenus. One such example is the practice of holo-projected combat tournaments that were popular once upon a time. However, it can be said that the true culprits are the several stories of brave adventurers setting out to truly make a difference in the world, good or bad. The working types who will never find the need to wear armor and wield a weapon go into his shop to hold a sword and perhaps feel like one of the adventurers to bring an end to the Eternal Night, as distant from the real thing as it may be. A surprising number of people seem to find that to be as novel an idea as visiting a teddy bear or candy shop, both of which would be considered to be more conventional sources of “fun.” In the end, the true purpose of this shop is for Stello to engage in a hobby that he thoroughly enjoys, so much so that he doesn’t concern himself with sales. Being filthy rich, he can afford not to make a profit or even close down for a few months and come back when it suits him. He doesn’t sell to those with criminal records ( consent for background checks must be provided ) and has also refused to sell his wares to foolhardy ignorant types before, believing it to be shameful for an idiot to be running around swinging one of his weapons or wearing some of his armor. Weapons and armor purchased from the Black Anvil Hymn can be identified by a small blackened anvil imprint somewhere on them. Description - Due to its location, the shop was built to be attractive and is two stories tall. Its outer layers of smooth cement plaster are accentuated by dark gray ferrous plates with fine vertical grains throughout. The fore is presented through large clear windows that are bisected by metallic cross bars, through which many of his wares can be seen. There are longswords, arming swords, axes, warhammers, spears, etc ( all medieval European, no Japanese, Chinese or other for now ). The door that leads into the shop is constructed of steel that has had the temper colors in it brought out and preserved. To the left, the material is an almost “white gray” tone. A third of a way the metal starts to develop a light straw sheen and towards the center, those brownish hues turn darker. Past that, the metal starts to become purple blue, then a pure deep and dark blue, and finally a more natural gray that that is no longer bright enough to appear white in certain light. Above the entrance, there is a large metal plate with a blackened imprint in the shape of an anvil. The name of the shop, Black Anvil Hymn, rests just above it in elegant lettering. Each time someone moves through the doors, the rich ping of a hammer striking a well made anvil echoes through the establishment. The first floor is the shop itself and it starts with a starkly decorated lobby with comfortable cushioned seats, a magi tech vending machine and a holo-screen on the wall showing the daily news available to customers. There are more items suspended along the walls, including business flyers pertaining to the Hymn and partner companies that can be seen once inside and the area is separated from the smithy itself by one thick division made of red brick, which gives the impression of an olden forge tucked away within a modern building. A rectangular aperture in that brick wall serves as the reception counter, bearing stacks of Hymn and Hymn affiliate business cards on its surface. Other than that, the shop welcomes customers with a display of Stello’s favorite designs hanging above it in airtight chambers attached to brass rimmed ovular slabs of mahogany wood. One is a Bec de Corbin design dubbed Earth, another a bastard sword design he calls Water, a kite shield he calls Shade and a longsword design named Fire. Across the counter, the smithy itself is visible. Front and center is an anvil of steel dark enough to appear black sitting on an altar of resplendent lazurite crystal pillars and surrounded by various power tools like a power hammer, grinding and sanding belts, various tongs hanging from a rack and additional equipment that is used for powder forging. A metal scanner, powered by magi-tech like most of his equipment, sits on one of the far corners and the whole smithy is ventilated by two powerful fans built into the walls that filter out the workspace when necessary. The scent of burning coal, as is common in traditional forges, is decidedly absent because Stello relies on a propane powered forge instead ( Hell’s Gate city regulations strive to maintain cleanliness in commercial areas ). Since he does keep decent amounts of lumber around, the most prominent scent there can be is that of processed wood, at least whenever he’s not using acid of any kind to bring out a the beauty in a metal. When the shop is open, this is where he is usually found, seen operating his equipment and bashing metal into shapes while wearing ear protection. On the far wall, there is a staircase leading up to the second floor, which is restricted to clients. Upstairs is actually his place of residence, complete with a well stocked kitchen and a living room with a huge holo-screen and powerful sound system. In every facet, the whole establishment is basically a man cave. Finally, there is a receiving section at the rearmost section of the first floor with a large steel gate. This is basically the Hymn’s warehouse, where the metals, lumbers, quenching oils, acids, sanding paper and all manner of other equipment and resources are stored. Personnel Stello Lavis - Foul mouthed, modern-centric owner and smith of the Black Anvil Hymn. Being rich, he hardly concerns himself with the financial state of his establishment. Crafting weapons and armor is a hobby for him and he's privileged to be able to dabble in it without having to make a profit to sustain it. The shop is more a self-satisfying endeavor, allowing him to do what he loves and teach simple city folk about what he's learned throughout the years. Lexicus Thoren - Another smith, albeit with a more traditional approach to his profession ( and demeanor overall ) in comparison to the owner of the establishment. He arrived after the destruction of his own shop on an ox driven cart, bearing what remained of his work as he searched for a new forge to operate out of. He ascertains that the piece of his past that burned down his previous work place is no longer an issue but the old world smith has other underlying motivations that he is not so keen on sharing with others. Affiliates @KittyvonCupcake Book|Ends Hub Business Flyers Credit to KittyvonCupcake Business Cards Credit to KittyvonCupcake Rules - Send me a private message if you’re interested in visiting the Hymn. Once everything is good to go, you can either use this hub thread or you can start a separate thread in the same board ( Cities of Terrenus ) that you can use for future visits. Noteworthy Designs Water Fire Earth Shade
  22. Acies ab Vesania

    Tavern of Legend Season 3

    Current Status Read Before Posting Tavern of Legend OOC Thread When you're ready to leave the TOL and explore Valucre, check out these transition suggestions. Note these are suggestions and you are not limited to the options detailed there. The Tavern of Legend is a jumping off point for new members, a sort of sandbox where new members can play with other new members while getting used to the site. This is especially useful for those new to online role-playing in general. Only members registered on the site for 90 days or less can post in the ToL unless otherwise approved (such as select events or mentors). We strongly encourage participating in Tavern quests and activities as a starting point, but this isn't required and a member can leave the ToL at any time. The new member guide can assist you as you go forward. The water cooler is a good place to check out when you're ready. You don't have to read the whole thread. Given the amount of new members that get funneled into the ToL on a regular basis, members aren't expected to read dozens or hundreds of pages. You read this post to get an understanding of the tavern, the last few posts to get a handle on what other members are doing, then you're free to introduce your character in whatever fashion you deem fit. The Tavern of Legend is an RP forum that is quasi-canon; nothing here is canonized as 'world of Valucre' lore, but its internal canon is consistent. Note that the tavern also "heals itself", so things like holes in the wall and accidental fires won't affect the overall aesthetic. What you do in the ToL can be referenced later on in other RP threads within the world of Valucre. Any quests you complete for the Tavern that take place in canon lands can be canonized as well. The Tavern They say the road to the tavern was once a nondescript journey, traveling through nothingness until you happened upon a quiet little hamlet out in the middle of nowhere. Farmers would wave, children following a short distance behind, curious as to your origins and intent. Only, things have changed now. You travel through lands scarred by fires and death, through an atmosphere of despair laden with only the slightest traces of hope. Burned down buildings are as common a sight as are the rats and vultures still searching for morsels. At this time, people still bury their dead- and there is many, while others hurry to get back within the cover of what remains of their home. Eventually, your journey leads you down a dimly lit path, finding that night has come upon you faster than you first expected. You come to a location said to be the corner of all existence, the point between the world of Valucre and all other possibilities. There sits a quaint structure, small and unassuming. It is only one story, hardly more than a shack, and certainly nothing like what was promised by those claiming to have once stayed within its walls. The paint is peeling, the sign is careworn and faded. Perhaps you feel cheated, having come all this way just to find some hole in the wall that gives only a welcome home to drunks too far into their cups to notice the difference. Still, there is an inviting smell coming from inside, a welcome change from the smell of death you left behind. Perhaps you should enter then, and stay for a drink or two. Even if this tavern is not what was promised, a drink and a hot meal would do you some good. And there you find that the Tavern is all that was promised you - and more. It reaches high, higher than you could have even imagined, the ceiling reaching hundreds of feet above. Layers upon layers of rafters fill in the gaps, where some patrons sit, served by a young man who traverses them with ease. Down below, the sprawling layout reveals a tavern with more than a dozen corners (each with its own table), despite the improbability. At the center of establishment is a large stage, where bands of bards play and leave- their lineup and styles as random as anything could be. Along what could be called the back, a long bar stretches out, ending at a doorway leading to the kitchens. Also in the back are stairs leading up to an upstairs that cannot be seen from here, and a door that leads down to the storage basement. Weapons can be checked at the door or brought to the weapons counter, where the character will be relieved of their weapon and given a chip when they're ready to reclaim it Staff The staff is varied. Some are transient, coming and going within a few days, and others are permanent fixtures of the tavern's setting. Some are from the world of Valucre, and others are wanderers from further off. The only constants in this ever-shifting tapestry are the core staff members who manage the tavern itself, each serving their own special function. Attractions Recurring Wait Staff Young Attractive Barmaid: Early 20’s, Green eyes and chestnut hair, with a noticeably large bust. Her name is Gwen. Young exhausted Barmaid: Just out of her teens, always looks worn out and haggard. Smaller frame on top, but generous hips below. Her name is Beatrice. Young scrawny barmaid: New on the job, looks nervous and eager to please. Often speaks in a rehearsed manner, quite rapidly. Tiny, but looks healthy otherwise. Average looking. Her name is Clair. Young man with dark skin and bare feet: The Rafters server, as nimble and acrobatic as an ape in the jungles, he was hired for his abilities to assist those patrons with difficult logistical seating placements. His name is Tova. Man in his mid-twenties, blond, frequently scruffy. Rather friendly, a bit boisterous at times. He gets along well with anyone, and is known for flirting with the prettier customers who don’t come in with obvious attachment. His name is Fjorn (pronounced Fee-orn). Woman in her late forties, wavy, short grey hair and blue eyes. She has no patience for the workers she thinks are lazy and will be quick to click her tongue and chastise slackers. She is stocky but short, with old battle scars she says she earned from "Fighting in the pits, earning her freedom with blood." She's willing to tell a tale or two about her past fights. Her name is Wentree. [Hired recently] Younger man in his mid twenties, about 5'10 but huge build and a bald head, with nearly black skin. He speaks with a mild accent, but he is happy to repeat himself when required--but you have to make sure he knows you missed it, because he has a tendency to miss those signs, among other things. He seems to zone out a lot, and will trip over objects too. His name is Fendrel. He does not flirt, as his Husband wouldn't like it. [Hired Recently] Young man with long, red braids and grey eyes. He is perhaps 18, and quite talkative. He has his left eyebrow pierced three times and both ears filled with hoops and cuffs on his cartilage. He sometimes gets distracted by the bard, or pretty women. Wentree frequently gets on him about staying about his work. His name is Mism. [Hired Recently] Toilet Scrubber Not all the dragons fell during battle. One so-called "Tom" managed to fall inside the range of Ghallen's protective magic, sparing his life when the Dragon Cultist General decided to hit friends and foes with a blast of necrotic magic designed to drain life from others. Ghallen later found him playing "dead" as he was told to, and could see that the dragon-kin really did feel bad about the whole ordeal--those cultists, they sure can be convincing! So, Ghallen got him patched up, but not all is amended yet. The Tavern expects people to earn their keep, and that those who wish to reform their way should do so through hard labor. Vaddock set the dragon-kin to work as the official toilet-scrubber, keeping the privies clean. So far, he's been doing a pretty good job. His name is Zezzicryt, but most just call him "Z." He is 7' tall, and rather intimidating at first glance, especially for those who fought them. The veterans of the battle eye him suspiciously, but Vaddock feels like he might really mean to turn over a new leaf. Nevertheless, he still has Hand keep a close eye on him.
  23. Moth

    Winds of change.

    “This is your first venture alone, little one.” The deep, calm baritone of her father’s voice echoed in the empty meeting hall. For once, she was thankful the diplomats and politicians had been shuffled out. It was rare she had time alone with him, and before such an exciting—and frightening prospect before her she was grateful she was granted the opportunity. “Yes it will be. Was there anything else you need to tell me? There wasn’t a change in plans was there?” The man chuckled at the question, shaking his head gently at her polite tone and professional questions. He lifted himself from his throne of gold and sparkling rubies, stepping down the short stairs that separated them. She took her duties seriously, and that was expected of her and he always praised her for that. But for right now, the Warlord wanted nothing more than to simply embrace his only child. So, he did. Well-muscled arms reached out only to scoop the lithe girl in his strong embrace. Initially, her muscles tensed in surprise. She knew he loved him, but there was little physical affection between them. Soon, the embrace was returned and she squeezed the man tightly in return. They remained this way, only for a few seconds tbefore he released his hold. “You will come home to me and hopefully with new ways for us and our people to prosper. You have not failed us yet.” His words of comfort came with a light pat to her back and a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Your guide is waiting. Do not disappoint me little one, or do not come home. “ Great. No pressure. She was still unsure how she felt about the man charged with her care. A Yokai? She was fairly certain that was the word she had been looking for. Large, bat ears sat upon his ears to match the large leathery wings that sprouted from his back. He looked close to mortal, but those bestial features made it obvious that they were not. She didn't know much about him, he had shown up at their gates many years ago. His kind was new to their lands, but his friendly demeanor and quick wit quickly one their court and her father over. Not to say that the man wasn't intelligent, he had many stories of places had been, but there was always one he spoke of the most. Taurus. Never first hand accounts, always stories passed from companion to companion. He knew enough to get her there, she had an idea of those she need to speak too and he even was willing to foot the bill himself. Her father would of course compensate him. Their lands were overflowing with precious metals and gems, many of which they used for the alchemist creations that made the oasis famous. He said he would be cold, but she hadn't been prepared for how cold it would be. When she stepped from the gate from their home to this new land, she was hit with a chilling rush. Her hands reached to cross over her chest and clutch at her arms in surprise. The silks and gauze that draped her figure were no match for these chilly winds. "I told you to dress warm." He chided as the gate snapped shut at their backs. A frown set upon her face, her head whipping around to stare at the tan man and his teasing smile. "I did dress warm, Lukas. How do people live here, this is awful." Lukas laughed at her complaints, the girl would be fine but she certainly would not be comfortable. "Once we get to the city, we can get you warmer. I am not sure any place here will be hot enough for your liking though, Madame Noya. " Her nose wrinkled at the title, "Noya. Madame makes me sound so... old. " "-- Then how about Princess, that is likely more accurate isn't it?" Her eyes rolled at the Bat demon, who chuffed softly at her dismay. " We'll go with Miss Noya then. Before we leave, your father asked me to give you something." Lukas stepped closer to the girl as he pulled a small satchel from his pocket from which he pulled a wide, golden bangle. "I've been told that you take great pride in the way you look. So I feel I must apologize for its effects. However, your father insists. " She took the bangle tenderly, taking a moment to inspect the item. The well polished, golden surface held no markings and was broken only by the few large ruby settings it had. She raised an eyebrow in confusion, effects? It wasn't until she peeked along the inside of the bangle did she notice the inscriptions. Old, very, very old. She took her time quietly attempting to decipher them, and Lukas allowed her the time to do it. "Illusion?" "You'll see, please put it on so we may continue. " She pulled her gaze over to the man before finally slipping the bangle over her wrist. Now she understood what he meant. Her skin paled to a soft blue, traditional tattoos twisting over her skin where there have never been any. Dark, shifting hair now snow white and the heavy smell of ozone lingering in her presence. Her clothing changed, but only in color. The rich yellows and oranges she wore now softening to gentle blues and grays of the air district. Fascinating. "He's paranoid, that old man of mine." "He is, however we have no time to dawdle. We are already behind, so please, follow me. " The thick, leathery wings on his back flapped and the man took a short, running start before he took off. She was not long behind him, she took a small run and then jumped knowing the winds would catch her fall. Even with the added weight of her documents, the winds held her aloft as they always did. To Taurus and to hopefully a peaceful welcome.
  24. Lacernella Rubra

    Mother Gaia's Home for the Lost.

    In Dougton, there was once an orphanage. It was capable of housing 24 children - quite the feat for a single headmistress. It was a gorgeous home with an inviting layout. Though it's headmistress had long ago disappeared, and various schemes had been planned behind it's walls, it had finally been given hope once more. Rebirth through the war, an opportunity to help. Those children displaced by the current civil war are most welcomed, with open (though slightly green) arms. The orphanage runs off of self-sustainability, a small farmyard behind the house, and lanterns to light their way. Children who come to this place are taught all the basic skills, as well as how to defend themselves to some minor degree. This is to hope that they will never become victims to tyranny, or will choose to stand against what they know is wrong. A strong sense of moral Justice is offered to those willing to learn it. For the moment, the orphanage only houses 3 children. All of them from Blairville, and consisting of one boy and two young girls. The young man, Peter(age 12), has taken it upon himself to be a protector of sorts for Lucy (age 8 ) and Ruby (Age 6). While scared and distrustful, they have come to think of the orphanage as a second home where they will be protected and safe. Dhizzandra watches over them with pleased determination. The Dryad is simply happy to have a place to belong in this world - and she is pleased to help others, as well. Children 13 Adults 18 Completion of necessary buildings 10% Important threads/children acquisition: Home of the Brave. Children currently available for adoption: Blairville children: Peter – Age 12 – Blonde and amber eyed. He is a cautious, but brave young man who dislikes bullying. Lucy – Age 8 – Shy and slow to trust, a little bit bossy, as well. Lucy is definitely a kid who requires patience. Ruby – Age 6. Sweet and all too trusting, she’s got a sweet tooth like no other, however. Izral Children: Susan – Age 14 – An older, jaded girl who was rescued by Jericho from a brothel in Izral. She doesn’t have much hope for the world, but she’s learning that not everyone is bad. Brinley – Age 8 – Young and cheerful, she takes joy in simple things. Jessica – Age 6 – Another young and cheerful child. She likes butterflies and flowers, but we aren’t into the flavor red this week. William – age 4. – This young boy loves to run in mud puddles and play with worms, as young boys tend to do. Caitlyn – Age 2 – Often influenced by William regarding bugs and mud. She particularly dislikes nap-time. Derrick – Age 10 – Idolizes Peter and wants to protect the others from ever being treated poorly again. He’s often defensive on first meetings. Jonathan – Age 1 – Babbles with attitude. Hates diapers. Andromeda – Age 6 months – Sleeps a lot, when not screaming. Daniella – Age 10 – Sullen and moody, prone to dramatics. Kendra – Age 12 – Preteen. No more need be said.
  25. Scapechild

    Chronicles of Adven

    OOC: Hello and welcome to the beginning of the Chronicles of Adven! This is to be a very long and glorious adventure for those of you who wish to join. It shall be open for only around 3-5 people at first, and once things have been fully established and rolling, I am certain that I shall open up to even more people. That being said, there are a few things that need to be established. 1. Replies are to be at least once per day unless something comes up, with which I ask that someone is notified so we know. (not gonna freak out though if you miss a day) 2. All characters created must be UNDERPOWERED in the world, unless otherwise discussed with me. This adventure will be broken the moment one of our characters begins blowing up mountains with a wave of their hands. 3. No future tech. i.e. Guns, lasers, etc. If you aren't sure if something will fit, please don't hesitate to ask me. I am actually quite lenient as long as I can fit it into the ever expanding lore. 4. Have fun! Follow the Valucre rules. No god posts. and discuss with the owner of the character what you wish to do with that character before you post it. an easy way would be to send them a draft of what you envision in a PM. that way they can look it over and approve or say what would be different in a circumstance. The flames crackled casting a dim light amidst the cave. There was a piercing cold in the air that even the fire could not cure. A group of adventurers gathered around in an attempt to survive this accursed place. None of the adventurers spoke to each other. While most were strangers it was, in fact, the ominous feeling of this cave that permeated their very cores which made them silent. They all feared they would not make it out alive. An older man, dressed in leathers, with 2 daggers attached at the small of his back and a bow slung over his shoulder came from one of the tunnels. His torch cast a light upon his face which made him seem a monster - his scar emphasized in the dancing light. "I have found the path we seek. Be ready men, it will not be long before we leave." The man, Balthazaar, walked towards his pack, sitting against the wall, and pulled out a small piece of bread. Years of battle were etched into the wrinkles upon his face. Tired though he was, he had this one last hunt to do. A large round man, whom may have been as old as the archer, yet still seemed a bit younger, walked towards Balthazaar. The man wore little more than some robes, with a pouch and book hung on his waste. The man was completely bald and while a youthful jolliness could be felt from him, his face still had the look of a crazy man. "I think you should tell them the truth." The man said. His voice was high pitched and raspy as though his whole throat had been burned from the inside. "Most of them are young. We have had our fill of this world, but they have much to behold still." Balthazaar looked at the man with anger and disgust. "I do not like you mage. You are here because we need you. Speak nothing to these boys." Balthazaar spat on the ground next to himself, almost as if to say even calling them boys was an insult in his eyes. " They will be the heroes they so desperately crave to be in the end of this." "Should they survive," the mage chided in. "That is why I brought you, mage. Do not forget it." The mage, flustered, turned back towards the fire and rejoined the others. To his right sat a man, no more than 26, dressed in armor from head to toe. The man leaned forward onto his longsword gazing into the fire while his mind took him back to his family. A wife. A newborn daughter. They await him when he returns. He, like everyone else, knew this mission was dangerous. The fear of never returning haunted him like a plague. "What is your name?" The mage asked, jolting the man from his memories. "I am Arterius. And you?" The man replied. "Moden. A strange name, I know. It comes from the southern kingdom of Naaldigrad." No more was spoke of the two after that. The ominous presence of the cave returning. Balthazaar stood a few moments later, determination set upon his face. "It is time." And with that, the campfire was put out, the adventurers grabbed their torches and bags, and began their way down the tunnel deeper into the cave.
×