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  1. Cintamani stone Artemis stepped onto The Rusted Corsair, the sorceress rarely visiting such places such as this. However this is where she stood. Instead of lingering in the entrance the female walked to the bar, ordering something mildly alcoholic. Taking a seat in a dingy corner she pulled away the black hood from her head, allowing her raven dark hair to fall over her shoulders. Her gloved hands wrapped themselves around her tankard. What a sorceress was doing in a tavern she could not quite say herself, having been wandering aimlessly for a while. She remembered little of her time before coming here, and it was a time she didn't want to remember as such. For now she only focused on how or when she could track down a relic. The Cintamani Stone. Artemis had heard of this stone through various sources and the offer of what it gave was too much to resist. The female did not wish for gold, nor to be more powerful, for a lovely estate, she hoped and desired to restore fertility. After discovering her magical qualities she quickly discovered she could not bear children, the same went for every sorceress she came across. A few years after honing her skills she met a man, they had loved, quarrelled but could never move their relationship forward, with no family to begin. The man was later killed in a battle and Artemis had quickly moved from location to location. So by her travels she found a means in which to restore her fertility, however, after realising the journey she would have yet to make she realised she would need more than her magical qualities, she needed someone who was confident in keeping monsters at bay, some simple ruffians perhaps. And whatever such the place to find such people she needed for her journey to come, the Port of Veelos.
  2. A white mask fell to the floor, cracking in half and staining red for the blood pooling next to The Masked Diviner. Fresh air. There was no breeze, but the cool air always felt good against his face after Soris took off the mask. This time, it was freeing. No more rules or nameless oversight. No more serving as an emissary for forces he never truly knew. No more interfering with a world that served so well for its own balance. He had intended to leave without a fight, but his fellow counsel members had opposed him. He had said he would live as a mercenary or something, serve the balance. The portal he'd tried to walk through still hummed in the corner. Open... He'd have to shut it himself. He looked down at the corpse of a man he had been loyal to for as long as he could remember. He'd run the man through, and The Masked Diviner laid there with one of Soris's Mirror Blades sticking out of his chest. He had worn the name, "The Masked Conjurer," But he was done with that. The Order of the Faceless was wrong. They spoke of serving the balance and denying the fates, but the balance was not so simple as they saw it, and the fates saw to it on a scale beyond their comprehension--he had observed that. Nothing was as simple as he had been taught. Fifty seven years. It had taken him a normal man's lifetime to finally come to a place where he thought so freely. Frustrating. Soris knelt and removed the man's mask, resting his bloodied Blade of Waves on his lap as he did so. He had never seen the man's face. The man had taught him everything the Eyeless Emissary hadn't about being one of the Four Masks. He had been responsible for brain washing him into a conceited and controlling way of thinking. He'd loved him for it once. He'd thought he belonged as a mortal among the gods and that that's what they were. But it was just a man beneath the mask. Blonde hair and, after he thumbed them open, blue eyes. No facial hair to speak of, and soft lips. A weak jaw. He dismissed the blade in the man's chest and pinched his kerchief from his breast pocket, proceeding to wipe away the blood from his arming sword before he returned it to its kin, invisible and suppressed in the metaphysical as they revolved around him. He shut the eyes of his former master and limped down the hall, away from the library where The Masked Diviner and Headless Horror lay dead. He stripped off his bloodied robes on the way, leaving him in his gambeson, his tights, and his boots. He walked into a door that had burst open when he'd been thrown through it. His body still hurt from it all. The Silhouetted Muse wasn't actually silhouetted. She laid low, crumpled on the floor after she'd hit the table. He couldn't identify her past being a human for the way he'd bisected her skull. It was regrettable, for without the illusions she'd been so fond of that blurred her form, she had nice gentle curves and soft skin. He walked over to the Concealed Countenance. An elf boy. He had been given as a gift from another world. He wasn't one of the four masks, but he had served well. Removing the mask was as untelling as the rest. Ashes scattered the floor. It was what had become of The Veiled One, who he suspected was not actually dead. A concern and a complication. After righting himself, he wandered to his quarters. A change of clothes was welcomed, and he limped back to the library with furs over a mail shirt and resulting layers. He took a wool coat from the hook, and wiped sweat and spattered blood from his face with the back of his hand. He approached the portal, paused, and then turned, addressing the corpses one last time, and the sudden echoing emptiness of the castle that existed in a pocket dimension. "Well... Bye then." He settled on saying, then drew his hood up. Stepping through the portal, his boots landed in snow, and a great, frigid storm served as particularly painful as much as it was refreshing before he conjured a dweomer to protect himself against the cold. The Shawnee Glacier was where he had met a being that had spurred a great amount of thought and reflection in him. Such overwhelming power could not have been without purpose, and he had insisted that he served his balance in his own way, which had, at the time, seemed utterly unbelievable. He drew from his collection a greatsword meant for sundering magics, and he ended the portal to the pocket dimension with a cut, using the follow through to return it to its resting place. No great surprise fell on him to see two figures standing in the storm atop the icy mesa. The iconic wide brimmed hat of The Veiled One next to a man in a coat of plates with antlers attached to the helm. He sighed and closed his eyes for a blessed moment of relief. He could kill the two and be free of the Faceless forever. As he walked forward, The Veiled One receded into the storm, and The Faceless Knight stepped forward, drawing his longsword and saluting before assuming a centered stance. Soris summoned a Mirror Blade and repaid the point of respect, settling into a low, defensive guard. He had taught the knight everything the man knew about swordsmanship, but he knew that the traditions he'd shared were only one system. One art that didn't practice everything. He wondered if he'd faced other sword forms, or the ones he'd be facing today. There were no words for such a duel. A low stab brought the knight in range and Soris began a standard exchange of thrust, leading the knight to dip his point while withdrawing, and step forward again with another thrust, but a short transition was all Soris needed to step offline and drive the point in, walking him back with his sword locked against the crossguard. A simple defeat. However, the assassin, The Veiled One, took the opportunity to snake around the armored man with long daggers aimed for Soris's ribs. He took a hand off his sword to summon another, drawing its so-sharp edge clean through both of the man's wrists, collapsing him in blood and screams. However, The Faceless Knight took that time to free his sword and draw his own cut along the side of Soris's wrist, who instantly stepped back and dismissed both his swords in response, taking that same two-handed sword, Zerkleinerungschwert, from his circle and driving its point into the ground, pushing the handle to his side to block yet another thrust from his opponent. "Too much point play," He criticized, and made a false move to grab the sword by its edge before The Faceless Knight withdrew, giving the man distance and preparing to defend. "I had wondered what manner of being you were." He mused, taking up a guard over his shoulder, but not moving forward. "Was it the Diviner himself who bound your soul to that armor?" He asked, but he was met only with silence. With a full step, he offered a simple forward cut which, as the knight reacted, he twisted into a high one with the false edge and a step to the side to give it force enough to be effective, forcing the knight into Frontale to guard his head, where from he transitioned to half-swording with a forward step. The knight angled his blade to catch the zweihander's with his guard and thrust over it, but a swing around had Soris striking his helm with the pommel and hooking the sword with the guard. He forced the sword away and struck again, head-on this time with the pommel, and with a step back, he was able to draw the sword in a cut down, through the chained and plated gorget, and into his plate enough to dispel whatever magic bound him, rendering the armor inert, after whence it collapsed to the ground. He returned the sword to its place and turned his attention to The Veiled One. He kicked off that stupid hat and rolled the shivering, sobbing man over with his foot. He was shaking and scared. Another unremarkable man with more power than he deserved. He was not a fighter. He killed people in their sleep and specialized in remaining undetected. Soris shook his head and ended the man's misery with a Mirror Blade, and that was the end of the Order of the Faceless's presence on Valucre. He turned and set to descending the mountain after healing the cut on his wrist, heading south toward the mainland, leaving behind an old life. During his travel, the pain from the cut persisted despite its mended state and he wiped and picked the blood away from the backs of his hands.
  3. Nanatsu no Taizai's, Philosophical Objective "There is no clamorous roar from Thunder, without a vicious strike of Lightning. No pouring Rains, without a foundation of burdensome Clouds. Without Evil, there is no rivalry of Goodness. Yet, there is a thin equator that divides these, two opposing forces. In the Gray area we stand to maintain, such Order and Balance. Live by the Code, Die by the Sword." Nanatsu no Taizai Code "Be ruthless, be Merciless. Look death in the face and show no Fear, not even to thy Buddha. Embrace it, for you have gave the Mind, Body and Spirit a Honorable death." ----------- - This will be our first act, the setting takes place in the middle of a lush Forest at just about Noon. The story takes place almost 25 years before the Rise of the Datzusoku Empire. Six out of the Seven have been recruited. In order to prove that they will serve without question; in a test of strength and talent, each will be put against one another in a short melee, spar (4-5 post-limit at least, one post-per-day, 3 duels in-total). Those who do not wish to comply will be forced to death or even worse, Seppuku. Everyone could still use their character's Innate abilities, seeing as they're physical traits of the individual's Race. I can't do nothing about that, just don't go overboard. We are still mild powers here as by site rules. * Remember everybody, that this is Fuedal Fantasy-themed and I can't stress the concept in any simpler terms. Various types of Magic is allowed for the actual Roleplay itself, but this isn't a place for Wizards, Mages, Spellcasters, Warlocks etc. You get the idea. We are Swordsmen/Swordstresses from a variety of races/backgrounds with the acception, any type of Sword is allowed. I don't want to read about more magic and spells being cast, than your character using Melee because I'm going to tell you, your in the wrong place for that type of styling or setting. I don't want to come off as rude or seem to embarrass any one because I'm not that type of guy x.x This is a reason we're in the Alternative-section and honestly, I wanted to keep this idea to myself before actually, submitting it to the public. You're not that good at roleplay-based fighting, or never tried to explain using a Sword in words? Good, that's fine. We all eventually get better with practice. I want this to be a learning experience for everyone, but more importantly, I want to make sure we're all having fun playing Our parts as well. We're a team and I'm not the best of writers myself. We could all learn :) --------- "We are not sworn under Blood and Oath as Brothers and Sisters, for even Ichizoku (family) stab each other with disloyal Hearts. We are Seven; for you chosen are now Nanatsu no Taizai of this, New World. I give you my life in exchange, for your Blades in battle." The former Shugyosha held a proud wide-grin from under the large brim of his Straw-hat or Kasa. Breathtaking, stoical White orbs reflected a stiff and hardened gaze from the Apex predator, staring at the gathered Warriors. He would observe those that stood before him in his poised demeanor; their characters, to body language, from ulterior motives, to the way they perceived the Blind Hanyo in retrospect. His Canine senses slightly, flaring a nostril, sniffing for the faintest signs of weakness, timidness, or even deeper than that to the core of their very Essence and hearts. These were supposed to be Seven Deadly Sins, a sacred Force not to be reckon with. He would step first the foot on his right, slowly, dragging his sandaled Zori with him and his almost 6", solid 200lb frame across the compact ground from in the forest in to the center most-section of the group. The flourishing aroma of Sakura on his person, permeating the air with an almost girlie sweetish scent. His hands crossed over and were tucked warm-fully in the intricacies of his Crimson Silk Yukata. His faithful and ancient Tenbatsu, had not been secured to the Senpai's white sash or Obi on this occasion. Think twice, if one thought he couldn't summon it at Will. Any Sin amongst the band that could source out energies, or pick up the amounts of Yoki generating from the Daiookami would also realize the translucent White flame topping over and encasing him in what was known as, the formidable Spirit Aura. "First, prove yourself to me your allegiance and discipline. I have arranged for each of you to contest one other's skills and strength in a duel. Despite the spreading rumors of my undenying favoritism, each of your names were in fact, paired and scribed before our meeting today." The youthful, near Two-hundred year old Yokai-Bushi halts in the middle of a suitable piece of land that appears roughly 20x20 feet long, just an even rectangular surface of ground, wide-enough to commence only one duel at a time. He pulls out a roll of parchment from the sleeve of his elegant Robe with a paled and feminine left. Though he is visibly Blind, fascinating enough, he seems to read the scroll pridefully in the following. "We must be solid in foundation, if we wish to hold any significance in this New World. Wrath is first, to commence against Greed. Then, it's Lust and Envy. Last, we have Gluttony and Sloth. Remember. Live by the Code, Die by the Sword." It is then, he retreats from the Arena as a spectator to allow the first Combatants to step in to the rectangle and introduce themselves. He rerolled the scroll in hand and slipped it back into the very confinements of his Summer robe to pull a bright red Fuji apple. Falling to the sitting Lotus, he snaps his fangs into it's crunchy crispness as the nectar rolls down his throat with taste he could never forget, back home in the Yokai Realm. How strange it was that a Wolf indulged in the fruits of Mother Nature. "Commence!" The Legendary Swordslayer exclaimed as he spat away the skin from the Apple in his maw. @Al Sa-her @Misty @kyuri @ezkiel777 @Robbie Rotten @VulcanTheDrunken
  4. Nestled at the base of the Drydth Cascades a castle had slowly formed over the span of years, people would come and go being paid to work towards the construction of this massive establishment. Many lost to the heat and brutal temperatures, and the occasional beast attack the castle could be seen by those who would venture towards the Drydth Cascades. Landscaped gardens grew the most exotic flowers known to the area, ponds; streams and carefully placed ruins of the family castle were built into the environment giving a peaceful place to rest. Occasionally the garden would house rarely seen beasts of Elendaron, although they wouldn’t really pose to much of a risk to the lord of the castle. Whispers of the new arrival of the nobleman would start to spread through the lands, also with the tales of the man being a demon of sorts. Although his history would be unknown to this new land, it gave him the opportunity to start a new life. Since the death of his parents he was left to continue the lineage of the Sithis family, although his sister would be lost to him for a time. With the hopes that there was a new established home, Raven hoped Eternity would return to him. Thousands of years have been pressed into this man’s life, and now it was time for him to take up the banner that belonged to his family and become known to the ruling families either as an ally or an enemy which only time and experience could tell what would become of his status among the Noble lines. - Found deep in the new castle Raven could be found at a large table filled with candle filled candelabras, papers sitting in front of him with writing from top to bottom. The smell of ink would linger in the air, as a feathered pen was gently held in his right hand. Leaning forward he would blow lightly over the fresh inked markings on the letters, scooping them up into his hand he would start to thumb through each and every one of them. Looking over his right should a man dressed in common servant clothes would step out of the shadows cast by the candle light. ”Sir?” Holding the papers out, he would gesture to the man to take them from him. “Edward, please take these and send them out to all of the noble families.” Setting down the feathered pen near the ink well, he would close it carefully not to spill the black liquid over the fresh finish of the table. Edward would hold tightly on to the papers, looking down at them then to his lord. “Invitations?” Pushing up from the table that he had sat at for hours, he would turn his red gaze to the well-dressed servant. “Yes Edward, we are to have a grand dinner to announce myself to the nobles of this land. I must find some way to show them my support, or what have you. “A faint smile would appear over his face that seemed emotionless to Edward. “It is time that I take my place among my fellow nobles, as my father would have urged me years ago if he were alive to do so. I can no longer deny my purpose, I must find a new lady or lord of the land to serve.” Nodding in agreement with Raven, Edward would turn away from his lord and make way to the small desk near the entrance of the room to slide the invitations into envelopes and seal them with the wax seal that contained the form of a wild flame. Leaving the invitations in Edwards hands Raven would leave the room to make his way towards the main hall of the castle, looking up to see the flags of the Sithis family hang high upon the walls between the windows that climbed the walls high in the stone. The Sithis Nobles will live again, we will be prosperous.
  5. open

    Read Before Posting Tavern of Legend OOC Thread When you're ready to leave the TOL and explore Valucre, check out these transition suggestions 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 those registered on the site for 90 days or less, or Mentors, can post in the ToL. This 90 day limit is designed to provide a time for new members to get acclimated while also giving them a gentle nudge towards role-playing in the rest of the forum. 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 getting started 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 that 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. At this time, the “staffing” has not been as hands on as it was previously (we got busy =/) but in time, we hope to make this a more regular part of the experience. While you are here, you can take on RP quests with less rigorous requirements than that typically found through the canon boards, get some help with learning T1, work on increasing the length of your posts (we have a 120 word minimum in canon boards) and get into the swing of how we do things on Valucre. This is also a place to meet up with other new people who might feel shy and want someone to make friends with early on. This board will be watched regularly, to ensure that people are in fact leaving posts that have content - we do not ask for much (just 20 words!), but we want worded posts (no emoticons) and no OOC stuff. That goes in the OOC section. Posts that fail to meet this requirement will be removed. Repeated infractions will lead to losing access to the thread itself. 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. But alas, the Tavern is all that is promised, 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. 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). One vacancy. Polite, middle aged man: Dark hair, normal build, a hint of silver at the temples. Polite and efficient. Named Clarence. (Died during last event) Young woman, late teens or early twenties. Caramel colored skin, dark hair, light violet eyes. Silky voice, foreign accent. Died during last event.
  6. Hidden deep within magical mists, the Valkohyr Vampire clan reigns over the underworld of Elendaron's Draco South. For generations balance has been maintained between the various forces in the region. Dark forces prowl on the edges of civilization, but the delicate touch of the Valkohyr lineage has always ensured that they do not overreach, that they do not spark a true conflict with those who live in the light. Yet in recent times, a militant holy order has formed with the goal of wiping out creatures of the night, vampire or otherwise--and they've actually been doing a halfway decent job of it, threatening to upset that careful balance of power. This group is known as the Radiant Dawn, and the forces of the Valkohyr have finally decided that action must be taken. The first skirmish has already occurred, and greater conflict is sure to come..... Recently, a group of adventurers has stumbled out of the sprawling underworks of the Steam City, Telvarnu, with word of a golden griffin guarding a secluded passage deep beneath the earth. Legends in the region speak of a powerful artifact forged by an ancient vampire lord, sealed away and guarded by this very creature, but its location has been lost for ages. Now, both sides in the brewing war rush to defeat the guardian and snatch the prize away from their mortal enemies. --- Catherine waited patiently in the dark, soot-ridden alleyway that had been marked as their gathering point. Her glittering white armor stood out like a sore thumb against the rusted-black backdrop of Telvarnu's wrought iron structures, but that was fine. She would have never been selected for a mission that required stealth anyways. Her skill set was more..... direct. It didn't matter who saw her here. While the hulking vampire-warrior was an unusual sight in the Steam City, neither knights nor vampires were wholly unheard of here, and she was minding her own business, so the citizens of Telvarnu did the same. Some stopped for a moment to gawk at the rare sight of polished metal surfaces that actually shined, but most simply shuffled past the alley without so much as a pause, having their own business which needed tending. None would come into this alleyway for any purpose normally: At its end was a manhole leading a mostly-defunct section of the city's underworks, a place visited only by criminals, treasure hunters, or madmen. Catherine was a bit of all three. After she and Jennifer had turned the Radiant Dawn priest known as Arthur, the clan matriarch, Valerica Valkohyr, had extracted all that he knew within the same very night. There was much of interest in the man's head, for he had ranked highly within their Order and thus knew much of their inner workings. Most urgent was the revelation that the Radiant Dawn had discovered the resting place of Vance's Chalice; created by a vampire lord in ancient times for use in war against a rival vampire clan, it infused any liquid it held with purifying energies that would rid the drinker of vampirism if they imbibed even a single sip from it, no matter what its contents were. The legend was that Vance had cleverly spread a rumor that this artifact in fact granted great powers of blood magic to vampires who drank from it, then allowed it to be "stolen" from his castle; when the rival clan celebrated by passing it around between all their number, they woke to find that all their powers had fled and they were human once more, at which point Vance slaughtered them all effortlessly. He had then locked the chalice away in a secret location to prevent it from ever being used against him in the same way. It had always been only a legend, but those of the Valkohyr Clan had lived long enough to know that there was often truth to such myths. Sure enough, the golden griffin spoken of as the chalice's guardian had been found stubbornly protecting an isolated passage deep beneath Telvarnu, likely having evaded discovery through a combination of its remote location in a maze-like environment and a proclivity to kill any who laid eyes upon it. They could not risk such a powerful item falling into the hands of their enemies. Vandal, the patriarch of Clan Valkohyr, had commanded that the chalice be secured with all haste and returned to the clan's castle, where it could be safely locked away if not outright destroyed. Having proven themselves against the Radiant Dawn once already, Catherine and Jennifer had been given this task, though she had also been told that others would be coming to provide assistance, as this was too important a task to entrust to only a pair of fledglings, prodigious though they may be. As soon as her allies arrived, they would remove the cover from that manhole and delve into the depths. Even though perpetual clouds of black smog heavily filtered the sunlight in Telvarnu, Catherine was still eager to be away from its glare..... --- ".....and that is why you must go, Shiel." The tall figure, clothed in brilliant white robes trimmed with gold filigree, gestured for Shiel to follow him from the conference chamber, where he had just finished relaying the legend of Vance's Chalice and laying out her mission. "I know that the chalice is real, and that it rests beyond the griffin. The Light has sent me visions of its power during my times of prayer. As you know, the high vampires captured brother Arthur only a short time ago. Though he is a faithful servant of the Light, the power that they wield is ancient as well, and I fear that he has broken before it. We must act with all haste to obtain the chalice before the vampires do. You are one of my trusted soldiers, Shiel. Your faith is unshakable--I trust you, more than nearly any other, to resist whatever temptations and corrupting influences the nightstalkers may bring to bear. I know you will do your duty. That is why I am sending you to Telvarnu. I have arranged for others to meet you there, and together you will do the Light's work. Now go, blessed child," the Prophet said. --- feel free to start out in the undercity already, or above ground in telvarnu meeting up with other characters. the undercity is basically like a gigantic engine/boiler room, with huge machines the size of buildings that form narrow corridors and tunnels between them. some are in operation, some aren't, etc. i encourage you guys to be creative and imagine it and its inhabitants yourselves in your posts, although i will certainly do so myself as the need arises. Shiel need not worry, i will bring in allies for her before there is any clash between the two main groups @Anon @Deviant @Prestississimo @Warlock @ImNoHero
  7. This was Elenwen's world. Not metaphorically for once! Absolute blackness was the only thing she could see; this deprivation of her visual sensory input was accompanied by a matching deprivation of her hearing. That was just how things went when one had a thick sack tied tightly onto their head plus a blindfold and a gag on top of that. Elenwen even had some herbs stuffed up her nose so she couldn't identify her surroundings by smell. Had to be extra super duper sure that she didn't know where they were taking her! Well, technically she did know that. Slaver's Enclave, of course! But she wasn't supposed to know where exactly that was, just that that was where she would end up. Weird that they were so careful to make sure the slaves didn't see where they were being taken, if they were never going to get out anyways..... but Elenwen knew better than anyone that sooner or later, someone always escapes. She taught those stupid Gaianists that not too long ago when they thought she was their slave! But no, Elenwen didn't want to be the slave of some horrible holy priest person, so she decided to trade that out for the real deal, for being a real and proper slave. The foremost of the five brutish men escorting her yanked on her leash as she started to fall behind, causing her to trip over the chains binding her ankles together and stumble forward awkwardly, barely able to keep her feet beneath her. Behind her, another of the men slapped her across the back of the head, while a third took a pass at her bottom as she shuffled past him. Elenwen dutifully gave out a muffled cry of shock, happy to play the part for her depraved captors. It was the least she could do after the wonderful new clothes they dressed her in--a sort of leather suit that seemed custom-fit to show the maximum possible amount of leg and cleavage while somehow still covering most of the rest of everything else, save of course for an also-bared midsection. She'd overheard the men sniggering to themselves about how they took off some naive female adventurer who thought it was actually supposed to be functional armor, and now they dressed up potential sex slaves in it to fetishize them to customers. Elenwen had to really struggle not to let out a giggle herself when she heard that one. She might be crazy, but even she knew the difference between a breastplate and a "breast" plate! --- @Rin @Eagle-77 feel free to begin the thread however you like; still in transit to the enclave, or with elenwen's group arriving, with your char as part of her escort or in any other role that you like. obviously, she has allowed herself to be "captured" as the first stage of the infiltration mission, which she may or may not immediately forget about and discard the first time someone so much as gently nudges her with a whip
  8. A new role playing world centered around the paranormal and mythological sources. The world is 21st century earth but with more influence from ALL pantheons, spiritual realms and cryptids. The focus of the story is variable but I would like it to be focused on a gay relationship and LGBTQ characters. I have a world pretty well mapped out, we can share and develop it with time. Judeo Christian pantheon, Sith/Sidhe/Fae and Celtic gods also a definite must. I mean we can work out how we want it to go. 1-1 or group is great! I have a few possible plots set up! Please pm me!
  9. [[What is the Ragnarok event? Look here]] --- Whispernight had returned to Genesaris, with more catastrophic consequences than ever before. While this mysterious and unknown force had wrought all forms of havoc in times past, nothing compared to the sheer devastation that it unleashed now. Horror stories of entire cities being annihilated had spread like wildfire through the continent, though in times of such chaos, details were difficult to confirm--monsters and dangerous magical phenomena predominated the landscape, such that most populations retreated to the nearest large city in hopes of protection. The cities themselves cowered within their walls and fortifications, dedicating whatever resources they could to keeping the madness out and the people inside safe, hoping to weather the storm with some semblance of their societies intact. This made it nearly impossible to send physical messages, and magical means of communication were under constant disruption from the persistent and violent magestorms that swept over the land. Still, information managed to spread in one way or another, and a pattern of sorts had become clear--some cities seemed almost marked for destruction, targeted by forces far beyond their ken. While none went unscathed, not by any stretch of the imagination, the largest and most powerful polities seemed able to mostly protect themselves from truly severe damage. Talix-Engine was a curiosity of the continent, a city of technology on a continent of magic, tucked away in the northern edges of Genesaris and developing largely apart from the wider landscape. It was turned inward, focused obsessively on the great Engine upon which it was built, trading in a limited fashion with other states and seemingly unconcerned with the outside world beyond that. They had no need for the "magi-tech" of the other cities, even disdained it, and other powers in the region had little incentive to attack or pressure Talix-Engine as they did not have the specific knowledge required to extract resources from an infrastructure that was completely parallel to their technological traditions and thus utterly foreign to them. Thus many predicted that it would fall victim to the turn of history that was quickly being dubbed "Ragnarok" in honor of some long-forgotten legend, speculating that its relatively low level of political relevance marked it as a target. Yet by all indications, Talix-Engine had escaped such a fate. Its populations withdrew into the innards of the clockwork city, retreating beneath the surfaces of the great gears that formed its foundation and going deep into evacuation facilities prepared in the upper levels of the Engine. It mobilized its considerable military force of automated drones to ward off any marauding monsters, thus keeping itself safe with minimal need to risk the lives of its people in the process. And it seemed that in this way, it would survive Ragnarok mostly intact. One does not simply wait out the end of the world without remaining on edge, though. So it was that when a drone scouting near the Great Northern Sea a short distance away from Talix-Engine's borders detected an unusual energy signature, the city's captains rushed immediately to investigate the report. The energy signature was a mystery--though their highly attuned sensors could easily triangulate its location and specific qualities, it did not match any patterns known to them, not even those of Ragnarok's chaotic magical vortexes. The signature manifested a nearly incomprehensible amount of energy into an extremely small space, so small that it registered as a tiny point on a geographic map, akin to a radar blip--yet the potential force contained within this point was both well beyond anything that the city's engineers had ever seen before, and also controlled in such a precise manner as to distinguish it entirely from a magestorm, which typically bathed wide swathes of land in rapidly fluctuating amounts of magical power. It was not even clear whether the energy signature was magical in nature. If anything, it seemed closest to the output of their own prototype energy weapons, which utilized beam technology to focus rays on plasma into extremely high-speed projectiles. The drone was sent out to sea to investigate further, and was able to return a single image before its feed was terminated. The sight of a warship, immense beyond all previously observed models and advanced in its design at least up to the point of Talix-Engine's own schematics for naval vessels, was the only hint that they had before the energy signature spiked, causing most of their measuring equipment to return error messages. In their last moments before the blast made impact, the captains were able to quickly determine the likely origin of this sudden strike, but they were able to do little more than curse the fates before all of that energy landed in Talix-Engine and detonated directly above their command center. Under ordinary circumstances it would be a difficult prospect to navigate such a superweapon into position undetected, but the chaos and constant interference of Ragnarok had made such things much more feasible. Furthermore, it seemed based on the one image received that the warship had actually traveled underwater to its destination before surfacing to fire, based on the ways in which water ran off of its hull. This was not information that the people of Talix-Engine would ever receive, however, nor were they in any position to do anything meaningful with it anyways. The energy weapon unleashed upon the city flattened and mostly incinerated everything above ground, leaving nothing but empty husks of the large buildings and skyscrapers behind, their steel frames remaining as blasted-out skeletons and little else. Smaller building were likely to be vaporized entirely, especially closer to the center of the blast. The once-thriving clockwork city was reduced to an utter wasteland of scorched, inert steel in the blink of an eye. The weapon had been directed to the largest gap between the city's huge foundational gears, known as the Maw, to serve as its epicenter, thus allowing its destructive force to be inserted directly into the undercity as well. Large segments of the population closest to the city center were immediately killed, either by the heat and concussive force of the blast itself, or the consequences of their underground structures collapsing down atop them. These casualties included all of the city's highest ranking administrative personnel, which had been residing in and around the command center which detected the blast just prior to its deployment, although the fate of some specific notable citizens remained unknown. What was known, was that roughly the central half of the city collapsed into the earth as the planet was effectively hollowed out from underneath it, creating a crater of monumental proportions. The outer half of the city formed a concentric circle that remained above ground and somewhat geologically stable, which then steadily descended into the depths of Genesaris's crust as one moved towards the former site of the Maw, leaving the upper layers of the Engine itself exposed to the open air for the first time in recorded history as one continued to travel deeper into the crater, until its very deepest point was reached at the center. The crater was so deep and so large that it was impossible to see what was actually at the very bottom of it in the middle of the blast radius, its lowest vertical layers being more than a mile below sea level. The small proportion of the city's population housed far enough away from the Maw to survive the initial event was faced first with the daunting task of coming to grips with what had just happened, then with the even more daunting task of protecting themselves from the monsters and madness that they were now vulnerable to, with the lid to their apocalypse bunker having been blown wide open. --- thread is open to all, and i do mean all; come to this post-apocalyptic clockpunk setting and do literally anything the fuck that you want with it in what little time it has left
  10. Sector 3. The sector with all that high tech stuff like medcine and all that good stuff. That wouldn't last for long. Not after a draconian experiment had destroyed most of the factories. Midnight. The sky was dark and of course the streetlights were on. Why would they not be? Well...that's the point of them right? Arashi slowly walked through the streets, looking rather battered and injured all over. Her hoodie and pants seemed to fairly ripped slightly in some places cause you know fighting happens and people...get hurt. Her regenerative factor couldn't beat off everything, not after she accidentally fucked up and might of eaten some...poisonous plant or whatever. Gaia knows what she did. "I feel like I may be dying but whatever...must be all that stupid flowers I ate eariler." Arashi was an idiot. She was lucky to be alive. That probably would of killed a normal person. Luckily, she had a good healing factor to fight it off enough for now. She'd probably succumb to it later till she gets an antidote or whatever. Arashi had noticed a huge hospital in the distance. She walked torwards it, going inside. She was greeted by a lady reciptionist, typing at the desk. "Welcome!" Arashi instinctively looked over at the lady. "Medicine, I need it." "I'm sorry, do you have an appointment?" Arashi growled. She walked over to the desk where the lady was typing. She wasn't too happy. "I said, where is IT?" "Miss, don't make me resort to calling the guards--" With a sudden motion, Arashi went and picked up the reciptionist up by her outfit. "Where is it? This is my last warning..." "It's upstairs somewhere! Don't hurt me!" A man came out one of the offices nearby, looking over at the commotion in detail. "Hey! Back away from Sarah!" He exclaimed, he went to out of the desked in area and went to try and punch Arashi. Of course, Arashi just took it and looked over at him. "...Pest. " Arashi defended herself by punching the man into the ground with her strength. She was weakened but that didn't stop her. Now there's a large dent and a dead man in the ground. "No, Jackson!!!" The lady exclaimed as she saw her fallen friend defeated by the Draconian hybrid. "Are we done?" Of course, this wasn't wasn't going end well for the hybrid.
  11. To the Northeast of the Casper docks a wide building spanned over two blocks. The building was made out of metal and brick with a large sign that said ‘Ventrix Industries’. There were two doors on the outside, each with a security guard. One lead to the store, where customers came to purchase their injections, and the other lead to the actual factory and testing areas. To get inside the factory you either needed a visitor's pass or actual Ventrix credentials. If you manage to get inside you’ll step into a lobby where a receptionist will explain that to the right there is the factory, down the stairs are the testing areas, and up on the second floor were residential apartments for test subjects and workers. The atmosphere would be pleasant and if you went to the factory or the testing areas everyone was working and aiming for the stars. Everyday Ventrix makes anywhere from a seven thousand to twenty thousand injections to be shipped out to their other facilities. Each injection is made by hand and packaged very carefully before being boarded onto the truck that drives them out. The main facility here in Casper has about fifty experiments going on in the sublevels on the building. Each experiment differing and are on the teetering scale of going to work or fail. The shop is always busy with a wonderful team of sales associates helping customers and getting them what they want in a timely manner. Today Vincent, the company’s CEO, would walk into the lobby and took the papers from the receptionist. As he looked them over he walked down the stairs towards the experiment area. Vincent was a middle aged man with barely any wrinkles. His complexion was fair and hair starting to turn salt and pepper. Vincent dressed in the best suits money could by and he took great care of his appearance. Vincents steps were brisk and he hurried down the stairs and made it to the main hallway. Some scientists scurried over to him and began to tell him about their results while a woman tried to run after them and tell him about the meetings that he had to keep in mind he had today. [[Whoooo first post! Let’s get going~!]] @Sings Through Pain @ODSTDRAGON @Metty @jack-attack @LightningBolt @Emperor @Someone
  12. Hello, I am the co-owner of Roleplay Inc. It's a discord server I made for people to meet up and talk and roleplay. We are currently doing a Dark Souls inspired roleplay if you are interested in joining. Join Here
  13. Milies of death were behind the juggernaut of a creature. A Dynamo not willing to end its reign of pain. It was slowly creeping towards Valucre it would consume all in its path until stopped. Today was no exception
  14. "Of course. You need not serve the gods in the way that I do, in order to serve alongside us in a common cause. You shall have recompense aplenty, of that I assure you," Nieve responded to the Eyeless, serene as ever and seeming not to have noticed his question about creatures around the building. Martin, Nieve's attendant, was another story. He picked up speaking where she left off, as though they had somehow rehearsed this conversation beforehand. "There's no telling what might lurk here now that the Illuminati have seen us. Their influence..... its influence..... there's no hiding from it," Martin explained, stepping forward from his formerly relaxed post on the wall and cracking his gloved knuckles together. "I will work to purify this place with what strength I have left. I believe I can manage to create a haven for us, at least in this building, if nowhere else. But it will take..... time. I am weary," Nieve said. "We'll need to protect the high priestess while she works. You up for it?" Martin asked. "We don't have to destroy anything permanently here, just defend. It shouldn't be as bad as it was down in the canals. Up here..... there's still people, other memes to oppose it. Things aren't fully corrupted yet, like they were down there." Ivas drew Edge and stepped forward as well. "Whatever they've got..... I'm ready," he said grimly. The boy looked to the Eyeless with an expression of gratitude. Even though he said nothing, it was clear how grateful he was that the mercenary had chosen to stay and fight. This was a foe unlike any that he had faced before, so he would be grateful for every little of aid that he could get. Ivas's ordinary bravado and cheer was absent. He wasn't downtrodden and depressed about their situation anymore, not now that he had a clear enemy, but he wasn't full of his usual brimming confidence either. His sister's life was on the line, if not his whole family, hell, the whole community that raised him. This wasn't just a random adventure to him. It was deadly serious, possibly the first truly serious struggle he'd ever been a part of, since leaving Dougton all those years ago at least. --- From the outside, the inn looks relatively unassuming, aside from the strange way that it seems impossible to see anything inside it..... although a traveler not accustomed to its presence may feel a sense of foreboding when approaching it. On the inside, one will need to bring their own light source or else be consumed by total darkness. There are no humans or other ordinary folk to be seen anywhere, though occasionally noises sound from somewhere far above. Utensils, dishes, luggage, and other items have all been left sitting around as though the inn were fully occupied and bustling with activity one moment, then all the occupants got up and left with no warning. All manner of danger takes their place, and every now and then, one can see a strange symbol etched into the walls.....
  15. It was bad business that brought Dryston to Telvarnu, capital city of the Draco South. He'd had occasion to visit here a few times in his youth, but mostly this region remained foreign to him, being the one most distant from his native Seinaru Forven, the northern quadrant of the continent. The city's proliferation of steam-powered technology was certainly bizarre to the mercenary--he was used to magic, or to technology that equivocated it. The contraptions that ran Telvarnu were noisy and roughshod, giving off the distinct impression that they might simply fall apart at a moment's notice, yet always able to keep operating somehow or another. Dryston supposed that the mechanical wizardry necessary to keep all of it pieced together was a kind of magic itself. Still, there were things about the city that were familiar, such as the thin veneer of legitimacy covering up the obvious corruption that ran through many of the city's institutions. Most foreigners would probably never notice how business was really done here, but Dryston had been raised in the heart of such a machine himself back in Eneraith City, and so its markings could not hide from him. Though he was hardly proud of his heritage, that familiarity with under-the-table dealings had served him well in this particular instance. Not two hours in a pub downtown and he'd managed to discreetly get the directions he needed. Draco South was known for more than just shady business practices and funky steam technology. It was also known as the "vampire capital" of the continent--not that there weren't nightstalkers all over, if you knew where to look, but for some strange reason they just seemed to be a bit more prevalent down south. The north of the continent was known for its history of dragons and dragon-related activity, so the common rationale was that vampires tended to flee south so as to avoid a creature that was their natural enemy, fire being their bane and dragons being beasts that breathed it, and all. It was that very same concern which brought Dryston to the south now. He'd had the misfortune of acquiring the ailment himself. While it wasn't obvious what he was outwardly, the transition was more or less complete by this point, and he felt that the longer he lingered in this state the more difficult it would become to pass as human. Vampires were mostly tolerated here so long as they kept their natural urges to themselves, but that wasn't exactly the case everywhere, unfortunately. So it was bad business that brought Dryston to this clandestine little bar beneath the basement of a supposedly legitimate establishment. Down here they served the "real customers"; a tin automaton bolted to the bar doled out drinks while men in coats and top hats conversed in low voices, or scanned the selection of well-dressed women who occasionally made rounds through the establishment. Dryston's black metal armor didn't fit with the suits and corsets, but he had enough of an in-the-know look about him to avoid attention. He knew the drill, which was to keep to himself at his little table in a dim corner, sipping on a beer that tasted slightly of coal while he waited for his contact--or contacts, he didn't exactly know--to arrive. He'd been told that yes, there was a party that could help him with his particular problem, and that the person could meet him here. Unfortunately, the middleman hadn't been willing to disclose any more than that. It was sketchy, sure--but in a place like this, that was how things got done. --- @MrMaturity @Noonday Demon @EpicRome23 @ODSTDRAGON
  16. xxxxx Welcome to a Brawlers Bar & Inn While exploring the city of Oakwood, you find yourself in the Port district among a chaotic array of businesses; from bars to restaurants, shops to corner stands, brothels to underground markets. Something about a particular establishment, however, entices you to take a closer look. It is the red light that first draws you to it's doors. You're eyes fall on a sign crafted from dark cherrywood, though you are surprised to see there are no words on this door. So where are you? Your only clue is the beautifully painted black cherry in it's center. Nestled among the chaos, the red light above it's simple sign illuminates the building to allow for a closer look. Decored with red tinted windows and crimson trimming, The Black Cherry stands out in Oakwood as a unique establishment, one with the dark beauty of a thorned rose. Upon entering, you find yourself in a bar lit by candles and tinted with lights of crimson and gold. Hookah and incense smoke linger in the air. Comfortably cushioned barstools are displayed along with scattered Hookahs patrons may smoke at their leisure, though some choose to bring their own poison. Near the bar is a lounge furnished with large couches, trimmed in lace and maintaining the dark red and black theme that seems prominent throughout the Cherry. A pool table, dart board and grand piano are found in the lounge, and there is also a fireplace which is steadily kept burning, heating the area and creating a warm atmosphere. The bar itself runs along the back wall directly across from the main entrance. atop the bar patrons will find ash trays scattered for public use, bowls of complimentary cherries, and scented candles. Behind the bar, and all along the Tavern, are flat screen TV's hooked up to cameras that watch what happens in the Pit. Details can be found below. Up the stairs you will find rooms, and for a small fee they may be rented nightly. Every room is decorated with bouquets of red and black roses, restocked regularly. You can choose a single or double, and room service is available just as it is in a hotel, at an additional cost of course. The place, however, is a paradox. Despite it's soft and alluring glow, the Cherry's patrons are generally a deadly bunch. It has become known as a brawlers bar, not at all a place for the faint of heart. Fights are frequent and encouraged and there are no bouncers, only a resident healer who reserves her talents for near-death situations exclusively. The Hot Springs: Branching off of the lounge, through the back of the Cherry is a hallway that leads down underground, about as deep as it's Pit, but removed from it; it is not part of the basement. Upon entering it appears this is a very well kept cave of some sort. Stalactites reach down from the ceiling, as beautifully foreboding as the rest of the place. Candles burn endlessly by some unspoken and unquestioned magic, and bubbling pools of florescent blue offer their steamy, welcoming embrace. These are the indoor hot springs. There are 6 pools total, three large and three small, offering the option of privacy for those who seek it. The larger pools can service 8-10 patrons at once; the underground caves span the entirety of the property which the Cherry sits on and are almost larger than the establishment itself. With plenty of room to unwind, the hot springs are a hit with battered fighters looking to soak after a good fight. Some who visit the Black Cherry experience a very sudden and strange sense of awareness when they pass through her doors. They tend to describe it as familiarity, as if they've visited this tavern in dream or another life. Perhaps you've been here before?
  17. Calm. That was how the day started. Clear skies, still waters and a dazzling sun exuding a mild heat in the territory of Ursa Madeum. Titus stepped out of the grounded airship, the emperor's crown twirling around his forefinger in extreme carelessness. He had never been much for petty titles and useless jewelry. The emperor stretched out his wings, his human form discarded along with his need to hide. After the people of Taen had witnessed his true form during the battle against the ancient hydra, Titus had decided to use his false human body no longer. There wasn't much point. But still, the wings on his back grew tiresome and heavy without constant use, so he found himself consistently tucking them in. One specialty of an Archangel was their ability for their wings to act as equipment. When de-equipped, they were stored in an in-between space that only its owner could access. Though his wings would not be visible, heavy as they were, his golden eyes warned of his nature anyways. Although he had always been dubbed an archangel, an elite among Valucre's angel species, Titus disliked the terminology. There was always a mistake or misunderstanding of religiosity where some nut job claimed heresy. At long last he had a title that would far outweigh that of an archangel. Emperor. Titus glanced at the crown spinning around his finger, his eyes resting on the blue aura-sphere embedded in the front. To ward against mind attacks. Initially Titus he had been rather annoyed that the crown makers had doubted his abilities to fend off psionics, but Founder Cayne's warning about powerful Xer Queens had opened his eyes. It was no longer only his life on the line if he was overpowered, but all of Taen. The attack by the Hydra had destroyed most of their food sources and housing, leaving only hastily built cabins in the battle's aftermath to help them through the winter's chill. If they lasted that long without shelter anyways. The recent rumors of a new gorilla-type beast being spotted in Taen sent a shiver of fear through Titus. The people of Lunaris could rebuild the city, he had no doubt. It would be better than ever before. But in the meantime the Lunarians needed shelter and food, something that the violent nature of Taen seemed reluctantly to give easily. Titus tugged at the long blond hair that cascaded around his face and frowned. He'd cut that once his people were safe. The emperor raised his arms to the sky, his lungs filling with the high amounts of oxygen Terrenus' air contained. Having grown use to the high altitude air in Taen, Titus could feel his head becoming light. Years ago, he'd crossed paths with a scientists who had claimed massive amount of oxygen can create a high. Titus couldn't resist the low chuckle the rumbled from his chest at the thought. A high emperor? Gaia forbid. Turning abruptly on his heels, Titus faced his primary group of soldiers. His inner circle. The Taen military wasn't huge, many of the soldiers having little to no experience in combat against other humans. But Titus was confident that their experience in the harsh Taenian environment had made them more than a match for a normal civilian. Glancing from the primary group, Titus was proud to see both men and women preparing for the long fight ahead of them- though if everything went according to plan, the fight would be relatively short. Hopefully. History warned that plans never went perfectly, but the lives of his people depended on their victory. He couldn't afford to lose. So far about half of his forces had arrives. The other half would remain in Taen until the second phase and make sure that the other Lunarians were safe while they rebuilt the city. Not necessarily needed with the new protective runes in place, but one could never be to careful. "Are you sure this is Ursa Madeum?" Titus asked his inner circle, absently flipping the crown in to the air. "It really is not what it once was." The bustling island that Titus had heard during his time on Terrenus' mainland had become something near silent. Animals could be heard, but voices were faint. Probably the new regent: the man in question was the main reason Titus had chosen Ursa as their target. The man was a tyrant who was getting what was coming to him. The airship had landed a couple miles away from the Ursa's capital city on the island of Corinth, giving them quite the opportunity. Of course, this wasn't a random landing. Titus had sent one of his hes mages to scout for the optimum landing position. The mage in question stood a handful of feet away, quietly observing his handiwork. Young face, but Titus would make note not to underestimate the young man. Perhaps the young mage would prove to be extremely useful in the near future. @Doge @Caloric
  18. On the worst day of Titus' year, minutes before the Xer-orians were to burst through the gates of Lunaris, the world exploded. The man had been through many horrors in his life but to see the entirety of Taen collapse into itself was by far the worst. It wasn't long before the scream of the dying burnt the air with fear and stained the ground with blood. And it wasn't just those from Valucre who screamed. It was the Xers. The animals. The trees. The water. It was as if Taen itself were crying out in pain. The Elder Tree trembled under his feet before a large crack filled his ears and the unimaginable happened. An Elder Tree was falling. And with it, hundreds of houses, their food storage and their main base. Impossible. Not even great magic or tools from the mainland had been able to get beyond a few feet of the mile long trunk. The chains strapped to each of his wrists glowed bright, pulling him toward the exit of the tree. The room spun around him in every way as the trunk presumably spiraled downward. The invisible hands grasping onto the chains yanked Titus from the falling Elder Tree and into the air where he hung. Suspended and useless as his city burned. While his people died. Trees for as far as Titus could see were up in flames, felled and broken by giant cracks in the earth that continued to spread with a terrifying speed. The sky cracked, bolts of lightning like arrows as the slammed into houses, people, Xers, anything in the open. Below him, Titus could see the ground literally shaking. If he hadn't known better, he may have believed that Gaia herself had taken a hold of Taen and was using it as a snow globe. Still hanging limply in the air, Titus felt his eyes widen at the fear the struck him deep within. Beyond his mind, heart or soul. It was fear on a primal, ancient level. A single eyes stared up at him from the cracks below, red and black, filled with millennia of hatred. Rage. Titus could feel the emotions broil the wind and heating the air around him. It must have been worse for those below. A child's scream tore Titus' focus away from the peering eye, snapping the warrior into action. Without so much as a thought, the tension holding him in the air released. Plunging to the ground, the muscles in his back bulged and opened, giving way to a pair of white wings that stretched in relief. The spell keeping his appearance human faded as his wings spread, removing the humanly clothing he wore and replacing it with angelic cloth. A golden crown circled his head, keeping in complete sync with Titus. The ghost of a staff blinking into existence before just as quickly fading was the only hint of the archangel's past. His attention now on rescuing the child about to fall into a crack of earth, the archangel shifted his graceful plunge to a full nose dive. His wings tucked in as his body begun to spiral. A bolt of lightning lit the sky and arched downward, chasing Titus.
  19. What I am looking for: Male Someone who is interested in long term - I love long games. Someone at a paragraph level at least. Rules: Regarding writing style: Written in past-tense third person. Post length should follow the current activity of your current location: Don't write massive essay-length posts when the current activity is in single-paragraph posts. Conversely, don't interrupt essay-length interaction arcs with something much shorter. Do help increase the post length if you feel it is too short; but do it gradually. Why? In a real-time setting, the players get more chances to interact with one another if you write between 5 and 10 sentences per post, and split out your longer posts into individual chunks so people can read them much sooner. On another note, longer posts work well because people only check for new posts a couple times per day, or even less--and a sudden short post might completely ruin the post they've been working on for hours, or more. Every post should be a complete grammatical thought with both a subject and verb. Proper writing technique is to be observed; correct spelling, grammar, and punctuation is expected. Regarding Etiquette: Avoid using public OOC wherever possible. Any metagaming. Metagaming destroys immersion and is often considered cheating! Do not force the outcome of your character's actions. You cannot, without express permission, force the outcome of your writing on another character. You should write all actions as your character performs them, but let the affected characters write the results of those actions as it pertains to them. Just the same, if another author involves your character in their post, you are obligated to determine the results of those actions. Ignoring something that has happened to your character is considered godmoding, and is against the rules. Don't "Say" what your character is doing. It looks silly, and it reads worse! Post at least twice a week {Exclusions apply if needed} Be friendly! Be creative! This was it. Her chance to find answers. Adjusting the strap of her overstuffed bag on her shoulder she took a deep breath, letting it out with a sigh. "Well. I'd say I was surprised to find you here, but I'm so glad that I did, I'd much rather say I'm pleased," a deep voice said behind her, smirking ever so slightly. Haydon held the file folders to her chest, startled out of her careful scrutiny of the old piles by the very amused masculine voice behind her. She turned, somehow already knowing who was going to be there, blocking the only door out of the rare records room. It was the man from before, the one that she had seen leaving Vallen's office just before she found him cut open, belly to throat, choking on his own blood in front of her eyes. The same man who she swore had been watching her for days now. She held the files tighter. "Who are you?" Her voice rang in his head. "Does it matter?" he asked, stepping forward, closing the gap between them. Her own feet had her moving backward, Haydon holding the files tighter. Whatever was going on in 1st Acquisitions Incorporated was so much more than a few old, dusty files. She knew that now.  Investigating on her own had become a priority when she found Vallen, sitting in his leather bound chair, office coated in his blood as if someone were emulating Jackson Pollock. There was something terribly wrong and she wanted no part of it. She knew that a whistle-blower would probably find themselves out of a job, but she would get by somehow. "Yes," she finally replied. "It does. Because you killed Vallen and you've been following me. I've seen you. That's stalking, if you were curious. Oh, and murder." He laughed quietly, and she gasped softly as her back hit the filing cabinets. Nowhere else to go in the small room and nobody knowing where she was. It was stupid, even she could admit that, and Haydon hated admitting when she had done something stupid. Something about feeling like that all the time being exacerbated by admitting such things. The man, devilishly handsome from his long, dark hair that blended into his leather coat, to the odd bruise color of his eyes, moved even closer, so that she could smell the cologne he wore, a combination of musk and other scents that reminded her of the woods when she was all alone. "Nobody cares," he replied. "Nobody cared about Mr. Vallen, and nobody's going to care about you, Miss Kell. Now, you've got two options, and I can guarantee one is far more pleasant than the other. The first, and this is the one I recommend you consider strongly, is that you hand those files over to me. You'll go back upstairs, get your things, and I will take you to a nice dinner, and spend a little time in your presence. I didn't think you would be so lovely, so do take this as a compliment." The space between them was now completely gone as his form, broad shouldered and tall, blocked the light from the bare hanging bulbs of the forgotten storage room except for the ambient glow that let her see that his canine teeth were sharper than a normal person's. His fingers came up to slip through her soft, pumpkin orange hair slowly, leaving her wanting more strangly and wishing she had put it up that day. "The second is far more unfortunate for you. I will take the files, and because you caused me the effort, I will cut the heart from your chest. And if you have any doubts that I could do this, well, what am I saying? Of course you don't. I can read it in those gorgeous ocean eyes of yours, and I can smell it wafting off you. It's jasmine and lily perfume, and true belief that you are standing in front of something malignant and dark." He leaned over, his lips almost pressed to her ear as he whispered, "And you would be so very, very right." Haydon could barely breathe, trembling as he hovered over her, and she closed her eyes, holding the files tighter, until she felt the blood leaving her wrists and elbows for the effort. She did not want to die, she did not want any of this to be true, but it was. She knew now more than anything that whatever this man was, he was no human being. Nearly crying, she sobbed out just a few words in his mind. "No. I need these..." The stranger growled deep in his throat, and he grabbed her by the arms, throwing her carelessly away from the file cabinets. Haydon cried out as she hit the uncovered cement floor with a thud, the files in her arms spilling everywhere as she did. She looked up and knew without the shadow of any doubts that she was looking up at a demon. He turned to stalk toward her, then hissed in pain suddenly, looking down at his hands. She could see them smoking, as if they were on fire, and he howled in pain, then laughed in a way that terrified her further, if that were possible. Getting her hands under her, Haydon scooted away from him, to the old desk that still sat down in the records room, as if they were ever going to hire someone to take care of them again. The demon looked his hands over, shaking his head at the blackened flesh there, and then eyed her up once more, licking his lips with the tip of his tongue. "I lied," he said with amusement. "I won't be cutting it out personally. But I will be eating that pure, sweet heart of yours when it's out." Wrinkling one side of his face, she watched as the demon bit into his own tongue with his fang, and let some of his blood gather in his mouth. He then spit it out, a black blob on the cement floor, and she watched, eyes wide as it began to grow into a puddle, then frothed and churned until it spun into a whirlpool disappearing into nothingness. Out of the open whirlpool clawed a creature that looked as if someone had been born without hips, just legs, a rib cage, long arms, and a featureless head, all wrapped in bone-tight gray leathery skin. It had three fingers, all ending in wickedly sharp black claws two inches long, and toes that looked the same. It reached up, whatever it was, to the blank sheet that was its face, and began tearing into the flesh with those claws. Two holes near the top of the head became eyes, black and soulless, and a third cut, torn all the way across the bottom of its face, was a gaping, bleeding maw full of fangs. It hissed with the first gasp of air, and then turned, cutting two slashes above the mouth into a nose so that it could inhale. That was the only warning she got before it pounced. Haydon screamed, and she was not ashamed of that. It was more than she should have been expected to accept about her world at one time. That demons of all kinds actually existed. She scrambled to her feet, only to be slammed into by the lesser demon and they rolled over the desk onto the floor, dragging with it the cup of pens and pencils that were there. Writing utensils and other office bric-a-brac went skittering across the floor while the demon tried to tear at Haydon, her arms covering her face and chest for now as she tried to curl away from it. It seemed to not have the trouble touching her that the other demon did. Claws tore into her flesh, cutting her pale pink blouse into ribbons on her arms as she tried to defend herself, crying out in pain and fear. She had to do something or this thing was going to kill her, she had to fight back somehow. Reaching out, she scrambled for something that she could use as a weapon, one heel coming off as the demon tore into her legs. She cried out again, wishing anyone might come down and see what was going on, but she knew it was pointless. Everyone else who might have still been upstairs, that might have heard her through four floors of concrete and iron girders and the sounds of their own lives slipping away with every keystroke were legacies. They would never, ever stop the madness. Her fingers closed around an old, rusting letter opener, and she clenched it tightly in her hand, bringing it up to fight off the demon at least for a moment. It hit leathery skin and bounced off three times before she pierced something soft and malleable without looking, and felt hot blood spill over her hand. The lesser demon screamed, and she opened her eyes, realizing she had stabbed it through one eye. Pulling back, she jerked the letter opener out, and it began thrashing around on the floor. "Just finish her, you idiot!" the other demon yelled. It was all he yelled, considering something splashed over him from behind and he shrieked like a thousand cats boiling alive. It was a sound Haydon would never forget, a sound that would echo in her mind when she was just about to fall asleep and would keep her awake all night, a sound that she would hear again and again even when the sun was out and the wind was kind. It was burned into her ears and her brain and it would haunt her like forsaken love and forgotten songs. The upper demon was burning without flame, and in a flurry of dark flower petals, he was gone. @carrionjackal
  20. This is a list of monsters I adapted for the Terrenus Dice System to populate the ruins of Talix-Engine during the Ragnarok event. Other people are free to use these in their own threads or for their own purposes. Likewise, if people make up their own monsters, I may add them to this list. Zombie --- Revenant [Bottom Tier: 1 HP] Reanimated corpses given fresh life by the magical surges of Ragnarok. Though they are not particularly fast or strong, their rotting talons can still rend flesh. Revenants are particularly putrid zombies with toxic claws. If a revenant deals damage to your character, they are inflicted with Poison, taking 0.5 damage per turn for 3 turns. Additional infliction of Poison while the effect is still active resets the duration. Characters can be resistant or immune based on their physiology (i.e. automatons, vampires, etc., may be unaffected). Spooky Scary Skeletons [Bottom-Low Tier: 2-3 HP] Low level wights cobbled together from ancient remains. They retain the martial abilities that they had in life, being skilled with either sword or bow. Melee skeletons have 3 HP, while archer skeletons have 2. Archer skeletons utilize their ranged attacks tactically, consistently hiding behind other monsters or allies whenever possible. Archer skeletons therefore cannot be attacked while the number of other monsters present is equal to or greater than the number of archer skeletons. Flying characters may be able to bypass this. Gargoyle [Low Tier: 4 HP] Wretched chimeras of man, bat, and bull. They take cruel pleasure in tormenting their prey, killing for sport just as often as sustenance. Being the sadistic creatures that they are, gargoyles will always target the character with the lowest HP, or choose randomly among those who share the lowest HP value present. Due to their ability to fly, their attacks cannot be blocked by other characters attempting to protect their preferred victim. Giant Spider [Mid Tier: 5 HP] These creatures spin webs large enough that they often span the space between buildings, then lie in wait for anyone (or anything) to try and pass. Despite its bulk, the spider is agile upon its silken strands, while any others who come into contact with the web find themselves hopelessly entangled. While it is on its web, all attacks rolls have -1 against the spider, and it receives +1 to its attack roll against characters trying to attack it at close range. If no characters are close enough to attack from the web, the spider shoots a strand of web out as a ranged attack; upon a successful roll (a roll that deals any amount of damage to the target), this strand pulls the target into the spider's web, at which point they are locked into melee range with it for as long as the web persists. The web is flammable, and characters with the ability to project fire can attack the web itself instead of the spider. The web has 2 HP. However, if the spider has entrapped characters within the web, the characters who are trapped are also targeted by any attacks against the web. Characters may be able to avoid this effect if they are resistant to fire. Beastmen [Mid Tier: 6 HP] Differentiated from their close cousins, centaurs, by their primitive and feral nature, these hybrids are swift and powerful, emboldened to go on the hunt by the chaos of Ragnarok. Beastmen come in two flavors, hunters who wield bows, or warriors that charge in with axes. Characters cannot flee from this enemy in open space, but they cannot pursue characters into enclosed spaces such as buildings. The hunters are well practiced in Parthian tactics; they will gallop away from any attempt to attack them in close range, while firing in reverse at their foes, or gallop in Cantabrian circles to throw off return fire from range. Only high-speed characters may attack them at close range, while all characters attacking them at a distance suffer a -1 penalty to their attack rolls. Warrior types have the Sword class while hunter types have the Arrow class. Demon Dog --- Hellhound [Mid-High Tier: 5-7 HP] Wolves that have been mutated and turned savage by wild magic. Direwolves affected by this phenomena show a frightening additional mutation whereby they begin to grow additional heads. Both varieties of this enemy have the Kamikaze class. Hellhounds additionally have the Speed buff, allowing them to attack twice per turn (either two different targets once each, or the same target twice). Evil Eye [High Tier: 8 HP] These enigmatic entities feed upon the chaotic magic of Ragnarok, gaining incredible magical power that borders on reality-warping as a result. The price they pay is that their own power is uncontrollable and unpredictable, but they are unquestionably dangerous. The Evil Eye is a repository of pure chaos, tearing at the fabric of existence to let true madness filter through. Thus it does not fight normally, but instead uses this list of effects for its attack rolls: Gorgon [High Tier: 8 HP] Abominations that wield dark magic in battle. They are equally deadly in close combat, as being bitten with snake-arms tends not to be very fun. Gorgons have the Gambler class and the Accurate buff (+1 to all rolls). The Gambler effect takes place before the Accurate buff is applied when it procs. If they are close enough to their target to engage in melee combat, the Gorgon strikes with its plethora of snake-heads and fangs, while if the target is at a distance, the Gorgon uses magical attacks. Upon dealing damage with its fangs, the Gorgon inflicts Deadly Poison; this poison causes the character to take 0.5 damage per turn for 3 turns and each additional infliction of the effect stacks as a separate instance on top of the first. Upon dealing damage with its magic, the target character is partially petrified, their joints feeling as though they have been turned to stone and resisting movement, as if the character's body would rather that they just stood as still as a statue. This causes a -1 penalty to their attack rolls and +1 to any attack rolls against them for 3 turns. These status effects can be inflicted simultaneously, but characters may resist them if they possess appropriate innates (a stone golem, for instance, is likely to be immune to both effects). Cyclops [Nova Tier: 9 HP] These giants have come down from the mountains to expand their territory in the wake of Ragnarok. Cyclops have the Aegis class along with the Tough (decrease all damage taken by 0.5) and Strong (increase all damage done by 0.5) buffs. Dragon Zombie [Nova Tier: 10 HP] Dragons eaten from the inside out by dark magics. Nothing remains of their former selves, and now they serve as vessels for foul energies. Dragon Zombies have the Shield class along with the Tough and Speed buffs. Their corrupting breath infuses the very air around their target with decay; they always deal a minimum of 0.5 damage to their target, regardless of the outcome of their attack roll. Dark Dragon [Grand Tier: 11 HP] A dragon driven mad by a corrupting infestation. It is not yet reduced to a dragon zombie, instead existing in a state where it can still draw upon its native draconic power. The Dark Dragon has the Shield class along with the Tough, Strong, Accurate, and Speed buffs. It cannot roll critical failures; if it rolls a 1 or a 2, it simply misses and fails to do damage instead of taking damage itself. Demon Lord [Grand Tier: 12 HP] Highly intelligent, towering over other creatures, and possessed of terrible powers, the Demon Lord is one of the greatest horrors to arise from Ragnarok. Other monsters seem to respond to their will, and they have been witnessed commanding hosts of lesser creatures to achieve an objective. Their goals and motivations remain unknown, but they are not to be challenged with anything less than a small army, if even then. The Demon Lord has the Shield class along with all 4 permanent buffs (Tough, Strong, Accurate, Speed). It gathers and wields preps in the same way that characters do, which stack with its inherent buffs. If it fails to deal damage when rolling for an attack, it instead summons a random monster to aid it in battle, drawing from the following list:
  21. Malignant spirit rustling your curtains? Troublesome demons lurking in your bathroom? If so, call Mandrake & Co, and we'll get rid of that in no time at all! Founded by skilled magician Howard Mandrake, Mandrake & Company takes care of all supernatural threats. NOW HIRING Designation: Name: Mandrake and Company Etymology: After the founder, Howard Mandrake Heraldry: Hierarchy: Founder: Howard Mandrake Current Leader: Jonathan Mandrake Members: Maxwell McCaffrey, Alicia Todd General: Affiliations: Allies: The Shade brothers Neutral: Enemies: Establishment: Agenda: To prevent and contain any supernatural threats before they cause harm, and to defend the innocent from both physical and spiritual threats Operations: — Ongoing: — Completed: — Abandoned:
  22. There was something tranquil about the creek. The gentle sounds of water calmly moving across rocks and shallow beds was audible from all around, and was made only more complex by the breeze which lightly played against the many trees surrounding the creek, some of which turned into thicker foliage not much further away. Small forms of aquatic life darted about in the creek, outnumbered only by the insects that casually buzzed near the water's surface. Birds flocked throughout the trees, whistling their unique tunes to one another en masse. Perfect tranquility, untouched and undisturbed peace. That is, save for the presence of Yoroma herself. A woman of oriental nature had been standing with bare feet in the mossy earth near the base of a tree with low hanging branches. Her form was almost perfectly still, save for the gentle flow of her kimono and hair as the wind brushed against them. But this kimono was all that she wore. Her feet were bare, and dirtied by the ground they stood on. Her hands equally so, evident by the dark soil underneath her fingernails. Her long locks of straight, jet black hair atop her head was perhaps the only thing that didn't seem to have been dirtied by the elements. It was smooth, silky, and had a hint of shine to it, a stark contrast to the rest of her. Yoroma's stillness was unwavering, and it appeared that she was focusing her ocean blue gaze in on a spiderweb, delicately and meticulously designed by the spider which occupied it. Her stillness had finally broke when she rose her pallor hand upwards, reached towards the web. And like an old friend, the spider immediately lowered itself down via a strand of web to her hand, slowly and calmly crawling across her forefinger to her hand, where it rested. There was an unusual trust between this creature and Yoroma, but for reasons far more frightening than some would guess. After a few moments with the spider, she reached her hand back up towards the web to let the spider go about its business. Yoroma turned on her feet gracefully, and walked towards the edge of the creek. She glanced up towards the afternoon sky, which broke through the ceiling of the woods. Most of the woods had been covered in the shade of the trees, save for this spot where light broke through to glisten off the calm waters of the creek. Yoroma sat cross-legged, and her stillness made her seem less like a disturbance to the environment, and more like an integral part of its grander design. She closed her eyes, as if beginning to meditate. @Galen Wolfe
  23. {This is my first attempt at a starter, so I don't know how well I did. I just came up with something that I thought suited Annie for her first day in Tia.} It was the middle of a blazing hot day in Tia, and there was a new girl in town. Annie had come from Weland. She'd spent eleven years in an orphanage there, with no clue who she was or where she came from. All she had was a diary, a quill made from a Phoenix feather, and a necklace that wound up a music box somewhere. She knew it existed; she'd heard its music. Even now she was gently humming the tune it played to herself as she sketched her pencil across her paper. Even in the orphanage, Annie spent all of her time writing and drawing. It distracted her from the harsh conditions of the orphanage, and it made her happy. Now that she was eighteen, Miss Paige of the orphanage had sent her out to Tia to go get a life. She hadn't got one yet. To be completely honest, she was living off of the funds that the local tailor made and sent to her via mail. She'd actually been out of the orphanage for a few days, but had preferred to travel around before she even got a house. She got a pet; a best friend, and she got an home for them to live in, but she couldn't make her own money as she didn't know WHAT to do with her life. So she just savoured what the tailor made every week. Annie slammed her face into her desk and groaned loudly enough for both her neighbours to hear. It was her first actual day in Tia, and she'd already run out of all her art equipment. She managed to break her pencil sharpener, and now all her pencils were blunt and useless. She didn't have any paint left, and was in the middle of a pencil drawing. Her felt-tips and markers had all run out of ink. All she had left was her Phoenix quill - but she'd run out of ink. It wasn't like she could draw a picture out of an eraser. Nathan chuckled at her from under his hood, and she shot him an unmatched death glare. Nathan was a bat - a small one, that had very dark fur, and bright red slitted eyes. Well, he wasn't a bat, but rather a Hydrophobic Vampire. She'd taken him in as her own after she found him, after she discovered that he had no family and nowhere to go. He wore this adorable little red cape, that stretched over his head in a hood, and as well as hanging down in a cape, attached to his talons to protect his wings. The tailor, Crossbone, as she called them, had made it specially for him. He loved it, and so did Annie. Annie grabbed her satchel and pushed her things inside, before throwing it over her arm. She stroked Nathan gently. "Nathan, we have to go," she said, and he stretched his arms, yawning, his back to the light, and he flew over to rest on top of her head. She smiled, and she left with him. Annie shyly stepped into one of the shops. She'd been arguing with Nathan the whole way there, about petty little things that friends always argued about. "Will they even have art equipment?" she asked, pulling down her skirt and brushing her hair behind her ears. "What does it look like?" Nathan asked, leaning over into her face slightly. "I can't exactly see," she replied. "Not with you in my face!" Nathan pulled himself back up and buried his face back in her hair, but not for long. Annie was still a little dazed from Nathan being in her face, and in about a second from him actually getting out of it, she managed to trip over a loose floorboard. She squealed as she fell over, and slammed face-first into the floor, dropping her satchel and everything in it. Nathan bumped his head on the floor, as having not reacted quite quickly enough, and he was a little bit dizzy. For Annie, falling over had attracted quite a lot of attention. She pulled her head up slightly, light-headed as she held her head. Her stuff was still sprawled across the floor, all her useless art equipment, her diary and the Phoenix feather quill, as well as her books and whatever else nerds kept in their bags. She'd lost her glasses, which were in front of her somewhere, so she couldn't see very well. {I guess somebody can help her up or something, or just give her a little attention? I'm not quite sure.}
  24. The airship landed on the lush grass of the dock. It could have landed in the sea, but then it probably sink. And Rowan not being so big, it was how they landed any aircraft. Unless it came crashing from the sky. Rin exited the ship as she looked at the people around her. Hearing the exploits of what happened in the two islands of Talia and Allia. Two dead elders at the hands of the beast. She wondered if they connected it to her yet. She didn't know. At the same time she casually strolled into the heart of Argyll-Obelisk. She knew that she would have to reach the bigger city to find the elder. But for now she wanted to visit the temple. It use to house an artifact. But now it held nothing but old whispers and wind. And it sounded interesting. She heard that the sorceress Sabbath hung around the temple. It could be a good opportunity to gain an ally to her side. Or probably another chance to fall deeper into the darkness. For now she checked into the Shady Iris Inn and rented a room. For now the local gossip would fuel her mind to see what was going on in time. "The world is ending. Two elders dead. How many more will fall before the tide of war kills us all?!" "The beast has come to Rowan. We need to stand up to it. The elder will help us If we ask him!" "Thats how the last two fell! We are doomed." Climbing the stairs to the last room on the left, she heard the scared patrons of the inn. How things unraveled to the point the elders were dying. Yet no children or seeds made their appearance yet. And she wondered why. Closing the oak door to her room, Rin flopped onto the bed exhausted. She also wondered why Flanna would be mad at her, her only friend in the world at the moment even though she was demon and she said nothing. She sighed. Closing her eye she tried to sleep.
  25. Rydsa, a large city that laid in the new island of Valhalla Heights. And the temple laid dormant for ages. It was the year 1792AY, Springtime. April actually. The grass had overgrown the old temple as it had been forgotten including its relics. And it meant it was time to claim them. But sadly, unlike the other treasures in Athentha, these six relics were cursed by the Comet Rain ore. Contaminated by its Magi and turned to cursed items. It would consume the owner giving them abilities like no other at the cost of their humanity and virtues, morals and good hearts. They would become twisted dark creatures loyal to the void of the ore. Now, dear adventurer do you seek the relics? Do you desire power? Riches? Women? The world? This quest is for you. ---- 1792AY, 7 Avril Rydsa Port, Outside Rydsa 9:00A.M The ship docked into the port as it came to land. The airship had stuttered and cranked as it almost fell from the air. It was landing in the port because of an engine problem. Rydsa was a new city full of bright futures and hopes. Marred by the past and the ore called Comet Rain. But the people of the city endured and in time built the most bustling busy city. As the doors opened, the bare feet of the woman stepped out. Her name, Rinoa Alikylan Sakimura-Tachibana Yddragsil. She had made her name even longer because she wanted to. A selfish act from so many selfishness ones. Rin looked upon the city then as she made her way into town. One of the relics was hers to claim and she would get it. No matter the cost. There was a small park the meeting party would meet that were going on this expedition. Those poor souls not knowing their fate. Rin smiled to herself. She wanted to watch them with her own eyes become puppets to the ore. Twisted because they wanted the relics. She was a glutton herself. But she would restrain herself unless a pretty young female came her way. She had a weakness for them as they were more fun to twist. Her bare feet entered the park as she awaited those brave enough to damn their souls. @Deviant @carrionjackal