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Found 10 results

  1. Moth

    Winds of change.

    “This is your first venture alone, little one.” The deep, calm baritone of her father’s voice echoed in the empty meeting hall. For once, she was thankful the diplomats and politicians had been shuffled out. It was rare she had time alone with him, and before such an exciting—and frightening prospect before her she was grateful she was granted the opportunity. “Yes it will be. Was there anything else you need to tell me? There wasn’t a change in plans was there?” The man chuckled at the question, shaking his head gently at her polite tone and professional questions. He lifted himself from his throne of gold and sparkling rubies, stepping down the short stairs that separated them. She took her duties seriously, and that was expected of her and he always praised her for that. But for right now, the Warlord wanted nothing more than to simply embrace his only child. So, he did. Well-muscled arms reached out only to scoop the lithe girl in his strong embrace. Initially, her muscles tensed in surprise. She knew he loved him, but there was little physical affection between them. Soon, the embrace was returned and she squeezed the man tightly in return. They remained this way, only for a few seconds tbefore he released his hold. “You will come home to me and hopefully with new ways for us and our people to prosper. You have not failed us yet.” His words of comfort came with a light pat to her back and a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Your guide is waiting. Do not disappoint me little one, or do not come home. “ Great. No pressure. She was still unsure how she felt about the man charged with her care. A Yokai? She was fairly certain that was the word she had been looking for. Large, bat ears sat upon his ears to match the large leathery wings that sprouted from his back. He looked close to mortal, but those bestial features made it obvious that they were not. She didn't know much about him, he had shown up at their gates many years ago. His kind was new to their lands, but his friendly demeanor and quick wit quickly one their court and her father over. Not to say that the man wasn't intelligent, he had many stories of places had been, but there was always one he spoke of the most. Taurus. Never first hand accounts, always stories passed from companion to companion. He knew enough to get her there, she had an idea of those she need to speak too and he even was willing to foot the bill himself. Her father would of course compensate him. Their lands were overflowing with precious metals and gems, many of which they used for the alchemist creations that made the oasis famous. He said he would be cold, but she hadn't been prepared for how cold it would be. When she stepped from the gate from their home to this new land, she was hit with a chilling rush. Her hands reached to cross over her chest and clutch at her arms in surprise. The silks and gauze that draped her figure were no match for these chilly winds. "I told you to dress warm." He chided as the gate snapped shut at their backs. A frown set upon her face, her head whipping around to stare at the tan man and his teasing smile. "I did dress warm, Lukas. How do people live here, this is awful." Lukas laughed at her complaints, the girl would be fine but she certainly would not be comfortable. "Once we get to the city, we can get you warmer. I am not sure any place here will be hot enough for your liking though, Madame Noya. " Her nose wrinkled at the title, "Noya. Madame makes me sound so... old. " "-- Then how about Princess, that is likely more accurate isn't it?" Her eyes rolled at the Bat demon, who chuffed softly at her dismay. " We'll go with Miss Noya then. Before we leave, your father asked me to give you something." Lukas stepped closer to the girl as he pulled a small satchel from his pocket from which he pulled a wide, golden bangle. "I've been told that you take great pride in the way you look. So I feel I must apologize for its effects. However, your father insists. " She took the bangle tenderly, taking a moment to inspect the item. The well polished, golden surface held no markings and was broken only by the few large ruby settings it had. She raised an eyebrow in confusion, effects? It wasn't until she peeked along the inside of the bangle did she notice the inscriptions. Old, very, very old. She took her time quietly attempting to decipher them, and Lukas allowed her the time to do it. "Illusion?" "You'll see, please put it on so we may continue. " She pulled her gaze over to the man before finally slipping the bangle over her wrist. Now she understood what he meant. Her skin paled to a soft blue, traditional tattoos twisting over her skin where there have never been any. Dark, shifting hair now snow white and the heavy smell of ozone lingering in her presence. Her clothing changed, but only in color. The rich yellows and oranges she wore now softening to gentle blues and grays of the air district. Fascinating. "He's paranoid, that old man of mine." "He is, however we have no time to dawdle. We are already behind, so please, follow me. " The thick, leathery wings on his back flapped and the man took a short, running start before he took off. She was not long behind him, she took a small run and then jumped knowing the winds would catch her fall. Even with the added weight of her documents, the winds held her aloft as they always did. To Taurus and to hopefully a peaceful welcome.
  2. Two men walked into a somewhat upscale bar in Brooklyn, New York. One of them had thought he was seeking audience with a friend. Contacting someone that he could trust in the event that he to come back here, and needed anything. For the most part that was true, but the other had developed an Agenda, and circumstances since that promise was spoken had changed drastically. Man who promised the other, was a far cry from himself, and even further removed from previously stated obligations and directives. A man meeting a friend, instead met with Betrayal, and that Upscale Brooklyn bar had become the stage in which a scene unfolds and escalates, involving a S.H.I.E.L.D grab team, and one lone Superhuman Operative who functioned at street level in this same area. A very well known Man, African American, stout, bald and experienced with quite the reputation in these parts as one of the greatest Hero's of his time. S.H.I.E.L.D currently employs this man under the enhanced Superhuman Imperative, tasking him as an agent for their cause in regulating and policing superhuman/Inhuman activity. Unfortunately for S.H.I.E.L.D and New Avenger Luke Cage, their current objective was no light catch, and wouldn't be so easily subdued. THOOOOOM!!!!!!! The south side wall of this establishment would be blown open as Luke's body passed through it and slammed into a Parked Bmw 528xi, the latter hit with enough force to slide across the street, roll onto driver side and slam into the south side wall of the establishment across the street, pinning Cage beneath the car and buildings debris. Clearly whoever, or whatever he was fighting was batting high above his average, and whomever was in fact Protues Rauz, in M-Body/Avatar form, stepping free through the gathered dust veil and out into the street, Clad in street clothes, a simple set of boots, jeans, t shirt and leather jacket, loosely fitted to his 12' Hulking frame. [GT-1 Leader]"This guy put Cage through a fucking wall he is out, Any other assets in the area? What's the status on The Avengers, Overwatch. Wait....we have visual, it's-----" The BMW had rustled some and had been rolled and free'd from his back while Cage emerged from the debris, jostled, and rubbing his jaw. "Cancel that ETA, I got this guy..." A females voice of authority quickly quipped back, "The last time he was here he put down Thor, Banner and Wonder Man back to back, Im not looking for a Martyr. Cage wait for help" Guys got experience. Guys got ego and a sense of honor about him. It drives him and compels him in full sprint back across the street, dead center where he'd lead in with an over-hand right that misses by a mile, in part because of Bull's height advantage. Cage's punch is slipped, and next thing he knows he's got knuckles harder then all get out burying into his right row of ribs, breaking them. Cage sucked in air, winces, His SKINS invulnerable his musculature? Only enhanced. So the pain is real, and his right elbow comes down to cradle those powdered ribs before he's struck right side at his exposed lower jaw, jostled, left, and from that left side another brutal right cross, precedes the fist crashing into his solar plexus, again, with his right knee, again with his left knee---Cages Feet never reaching the ground when he was lifted from the first, and finished with right uppercut that tripples down on the same spot that had been hit twice, previously. His attacker relented... And Cage dropped to his knee's and spat to the ground the contents of his stomach which was mostly Blood, stomach acids and maybe, just maybe....beer. Cage had been downed. Hard, and Coup De Gras'd with a downward overhand right that buried Cage's entire head into the spitting street beneath it, and jostled buildings and cars for a full 1/4 of a square mile. In his finality, Proteus' eyes had locked with the Grab Team Leaders, before Proteus commanded, "I want to speak to Danvers! I didn't come here for this!"..
  3. [Recap] In these past events, the Kingdom of Taurus and it's Ruler has seen much change. Seeking answers in regard to his origins and his fathers legacy, Proteus Rauz found himself exiled to the Celestial Realm---Where the Absolute Authority, confines and contains the remaining progenitors of his race. Time stood still there... he was subjected to their test, trials and tribulations and experimentation, meanwhile the kingdom and home he knew would be devoid of his presence for over 1,000 years. Proteus' liberation came at the expense of the captives lives. Destroying the last remnants of his bloodline, retaking prized possessions destined for his ownership and flinging himself back across the planes of existence and back home where he emerged anew. Proteus Rauz had emerged Anew. Changed. Different. Not only was he far older, hardened even, his powers had grown exponentially as did his control over them. His views and outlooks on his path and those of his people had also been altered. Having established a relationship with the powers that be in the lands of Alterion, Proteus, under his own power had moved the entirety of his kingdom from the Lands of Genesaris, to the Spirit Realm of Xaengri-La. Where he would be free from mortal observation. Where his prominence could have neither positive or negative effects on the lands surrounding his kingdom, so that no balances could be tipped or disturbed and that no other governing body could benefit nor suffer. However, even as he established his kingdom, and their outer realm territories, Proteus Rauz' ideals and goals have widened and expanded. He had become somewhat of a Nihilist, embracing what he had discovered what his original intent and reason for being was. TO BRING ABOUT DEATH AND DESTRUCTION, TO ALL. His re-emergence , and return to the throne under this new ideology has put many of his closest ally's and family at an unease, Even the Queen, Priscilla---His birth mother, and the one who worked the hardest to bury the secrets of Bulls origins and true nature, has found herself at her absolute wits end as to how to guide or manager her son, and after his re-emergence, far to under-powered to force anything upon him. So silently she has watched, ever so diligently as Proteus sets about procuring the knowledge needed to accomplish his goal. His one true ideal, his one true intention----TO BECOME DEATH ITSELF. [And now....] His throne room used to bathe light. Every square inch of it, illuminated from the free flowing light from yonder. That has drastically changed. Large metal shutters existed where windows once were. They kept this place devoid of light. It was insulated, sounds were equally scarce save for that of the constant HUM of raw unbridled power flowing through 4 massive umbilical cords that ran beneath the ground up behind his throne and into a custom fitment that affixed into hard points on his back. The ONLY light present within this rume was from the Rune Brands aglow along his body in a blood red hue. It was there that he sat. His body constantly absorbing and harmonizing the seemingly limitless ebb and flow of spatio-temporal-anima present in the limitless expanse of this spiritual realm. Disconnected from his people. Departed from a society that he helped to sculpt and once coveted, but nowadays, feared him as they never have before. The Council had long been killed and disbanded by his own hand save for one who squandered away still within the confines of their prison. In truth there was only one thing that could keep Proteus situated as he was now. He had no intent on moving, nor a desire to do so because simply put he was waiting on something. That something was coveted. Desired and favored above anything at this time and it was the only thing that eluded him these days. It was pure. It was valued by anything and everyone be they Man, King or God. There was nothing exempt from it's benefit and there in it lied no TRUE face value for it, but there was also no limit to what would be expended for it. Knowledge. Plain and simple. He needed the means and understanding as to how to go about achieving his goal---which for the most part was thought to be inconceivable and impossible, however, when the Absolute authority. The Omnipotent one. "The Creator" himself, assures you that such is NOT beyond the realm of a being such as himself----You take that notion for what it's worth. There was one individual who had such knowledge, or at least could point him in the direction. This being, is and always will be favored. His most beloved. One to whom he trusted the most. Covets the most. Priscilla...The Queen, and his mother. Despite who she was to him she has also coincidentally been the greatest source of obscurity and deception. The understanding of these facts and the dynamics of them all has left Proteus shifted in stance. Wavered, somewhat unsure. As a child he clung to her every word. She molded his beliefs, directed his ideals and aspirations, All for what?? To lie? To keep the truth away from him? For what purpose? Some selfish ideal of goal of her own? It was to much for him to understand. To much for him to process, and whenever his mother was around the King was nothing short of contrived. However....she held the keys, she knew the ways, and his current goals and aspirations although no favored by her, were goals she could help him achieve. So he sat....and waited. For her.. @Lacernella Rubra
  4. The Spirit Realm. That which lies beyond the veil of life, Xaengri-La is home to those souls who met a tragic end and various other celestial and demonic beings. Given that it inhabits another plane entirely, Xaegri-La is massive (possibly limitless) in size and impossible to quantify. Political factions ranging from Demons, to Archons, Deities and all things in between run amok. There is no one set governing entity, though certain areas are controlled and maintained by certain groups. Keep in mine that Xaengri-la is impossible to quantify and inhabits another plane altogether. So if you’re getting a particular feel from a specific setting, remember it’s not indicative of the entire realm, but of that particular location within this vast and varied realm. That being said, unless otherwise stated or tagged any threads you make will be considered to take place in some remote corner that best fits your needs for setting. Hollow : The Hollows are evil ghosts who reside in Vast Gigante, but can travel to the Human World to feed on the souls of the living and dead alike. Like Eternals, Hollows are made of spiritual matter and cannot be detected by ordinary Humans. While the majority of Hollows can be overcome by the average Eternals, there are some which surpass even the most elite Eternals in strength. All normal Hollows wear white masks and have a hole where their heart used to be. Upper Rank Hollow: Vasto Lorde are Hollows that have broken off part of their Hollow mask. By shattering their masks, these Hollows regain the ability to reason, sometimes obtain a Humanoid form, and gain access to Eternal-esque powers. Demons: beings present in Xaengrila-la. Demons consist of innumerable, diverse varieties. They can be found in many locations, ranging from mountains to forests; some even hide among human soul dwellings, often to cause trouble for their human inhabitants. While most demons are very weak, some are particularly strong, especially those that have specific associations with animals: for instance, dog demons. Other demons have no animal associations, and are simply humanoid demons, such as plants, tree, hair etc. It is said that if a demon can take on the form of a human, then it is truly powerful. True enough, while non-humanoid demons are strong enough to be trouble for normal humans, they pose little threat to spiritual humans such as gatekeepers. Those that take on human form are far more formidable. Still, even many of these yōkai have "true forms", such as a dog demon whose true form is that of a giant white dog. Others either cannot or choose not to take on human forms, retaining an animal-like form at all times. Social behavior among Demons is also extremely varied. Some demons are very social, especially canine demons, such as dog or wolf demons, the latter of which travel in large packs and associate in vast tribal networks. Other clan-based demons include the panther tribe and the moth demons. Many other demons are solitary hunters who sometimes fight in small groups and roam across the countryside. Especially weak demons sometimes congregate by necessity or fear, especially those that serve the Demon King. Most demons usually only associate with their own kind, unless driven by some pressing need or self-interest, especially when overwhelming numbers are needed; but without a strong leader they rarely do so on their own. A few demon clans such as the Wolf Demon Tribe, the Moth clan, and the bird clan, have humanoid demons who travel with related demonic animals (i.e. rather than being human in appearance with animal characteristics, these demons are animals that have achieved near-human intelligence and live alongside more powerful demons who share their nature/animal typing). For instance, the Wolf Demon Tribe consists primarily of demons who have wolf-like traits, but many actual wolves live with them and hunt alongside them, with the eldest among them being capable of human speech. . In relation to humans, demons either ignore or are outright hostile to humans, though they generally fear reprisal from Eternals and Gatekeepers. Other, particularly powerful demons have little to no fear of humans. A rare few demons are friendly towards humans, and even mate with them, producing half-demons. However, such behavior is considered eccentric by even the most open-minded demons, and is generally frowned upon, with the offspring of such unions being reviled and discriminated against in the Spirit Realm. Some half-demons are also created when a human offers their soul to demons and are reconstituted as an entirely new creature. However, even the Demon King who is such a half-demon, is looked down upon by weaker demons, as they can still sense that he is part human. Demon Lords: The most powerful of demons are known as Demon Lords. These demons are extremely powerful, are virtually immune to normal methods of human attack, and normally have a number of weaker demons who serve under them. The Demon King despite being a half-demon, also attempted to style himself as a Demon Lord. Nevertheless, demons could still sense that he was not a full demon. The greatest of Demon Lords are colossal demons of enormous size and insurmountable power, able to lay waste to entire regions. While most demons keep to themselves, only attacking what they need for resources or food, Demon Lords often have ambitions of power and conquest, leading to wars between them. Fallen Archon Demon King: A powerful Demon Lord who has managed to amass a large and diverse following of demons beneath him. Despite his moniker, he is more warlord than King with almost no other Demon Lords acknowledging him as their leader.In fact many creatures within the Spirit Realm and without claim to be the Demon King, but none have amassed a following such as he. Though King only in name, he is a being of considerable power and seeks to subjugate the other Demon Lords in hopes of unifying all demons and waging war against the Eternals.
  5. Tea Key Oasis He awoke to the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the general roar of wind rushing over the sea. The warmth of the sun was at his back, but the sand he lay in felt cool, almost refreshing. The sounds of civilization filled his ears, the quite hum of vehicles droning on, feet moving across wooden flooring...maybe a dock? The sound of gulls swooping overhead prompted Char to lift himself off of his sandy bed. Brushing his clothes off, while simultaneously wiping his hands free of any sand, Char peered about at what appeared to be a tropical island paradise. Gingerly rubbing the sand off his face, he wondered just where in the hell he was. The memory of the rift was still fresh in his mind. He’d been in the lab—no, Dojan’s office. Now he stood before a bustling resort? There was none of the vaulted architecture he’d grown to associate with Alterion. The buildings were fairly squat by comparison, but far from dilapidated and wide enough to house several businesses. Char turned to look out over the sea, in some vain hope of gaining his bearings and stared in dumbfounded awe at the horizon. The ocean that churned before him was not composed of water, but energy...that same coalescing radiance he’d seen in the rift. The vast sea of power thrummed in tune with the beat of his heart, only serving to further unnerve the erstwhile youth. Suddenly, he became aware of his hair marring his vision and moved to sweep the blonde locks clear...wait...blonde? For as long as he could remember, Char'd had black hair...pitch black. His journey must have changed him? There was still so much he was trying and failing to understand. His gaze moved to the buildings just beyond the shore and Char resolved to at least figure out where in the shit he was before he absolutely lost his fucking mind. A small sign clung to the dock, simplistic if not adequately carved. It bore three words of varying capitalization: " TeY KeY OaSiS " Shrugging his shoulders, Char felt his pockets searching for the weight of a coin purse and finding little more than some wadded up and rumpled Alterion bills. "Better than nothing, I suppose." With a sigh, Char made his way towards the dock and civilization beyond.
  6. Xaengri-La :: the Spirit Realm Jaakuna Keimusho :: Prison of the Damned In a dark and twisted cell, sat an indistinguishable figure. The cage around him like that of a bird's own, mixed with the growth of vines and roots of the blackest tree, which only spread higher and lower, from the floor and roof to other cells. In this bank alone, the swaying cells numbers more than two dozen: a pod, as it were called in the form of a joke. Peas, and such... The mangled ebony encased the crazed, the delusional, the perfectly normal—yet no longer. Killers, thieves, murderers, and simpletons; anyone who had offered their life within the confines of Izral's own pledged darkness, loomed somewhere in the depths of the spiritual side of Xaengri-La. Killed by a stampeding horse? Xaengri-La. Butchered by savages? Xaengri-La. What about drowned at birth, to the postpartum? Xaengri-La. Sad, but true—a paradoxical purgatory and all whom had lost their lives was invited to partake in the afterlife... or the hellish nightmare that no one knew about. Heaven? Angels? You thought you'd be singing glory to the God on high, did you? Praises to Tellah, yes? Where is YOUR SAINT ODIN, NOW?! Ha.. hahah.... hahaHah! There is certainly no heaven and nothing pretty, fancy, or majestic about the slithering darkness, bathing in a liquid that cannot be identified; this nightmare exists because of human indecency. The darkness of hearts keeps the death company, even after the corpse is still cold... So this man, right? He sat in cell AAA1. That's right, the third string of the first cell, except his was tethered to the molten floor, that writhed with a plum and amethyst swirl of the most psychedelic colors known to humanity. Perhaps not even a color existed to describe the iridescent shimmer of black that the boiling mauve emitted. A glow of black was unheard of. Perhaps though, a mind game in itself to test the waters. But this guy, right? He didn't even move. He just sat in one spot, day in and day out. And every month or so the prison gets just a little too full and they decide that doubling up is a good idea. Or rather an entertaining idea. But this guy, yeah? Suspicious. So suspicious in fact, that this individual had watchful eyes on his cage to determine what exactly he was; how he did what he did; and now and again, the boss would feed the enigma someone special, just to try and catch a glimpse. Humans had a great many words for the Devil. Satan or Lucipher were always the usual go-to names, but for ages, they have changed. Eris. Even Set. But he preferred Cyric, it had a classier ring to it than the boredom of being called Set or the androgyny of Eris. No one could ever get that shit right... so frustrating. About as frustrating as this creepy bastard in the cage, right? The special souls were the defiant ones. The one's who denied their spiritual life and decided that a full-death was far more reasonable and understanding. Those who chose this path stared up into the ebb of cerulean light that split the great dark world above, as if peering through reality into the bluest skies in the clearest of atmospheres. Their hope disgusted Cyric, whom had none to begin with. How could he have home as a time-honored and permanent guest of the PP. You know... I know you do. Don't sit and wonder about PP. It'll certainly taint your mind and wander to something thick and solid... throbbing ... and thrashing, like the bodies of those who paved the walkways—still living—...well, spiritually-ish. Of course there are walkways, silly... did you think this was a world of pitch, blood, and lunatics? Well, you're 100% right, without other fact though—like there's theater portals that those who have served their time and would rather spend their time in the afterlife of lunacy, doing as they pleased. They sit and watch the real world upon the corporeal and laugh at the stupidity of humanity and their selfish squabbling over nothing important. This world is just like yours. Except this one has death everywhere and schizophrenia isn't taboo—it's the norm!
  7. • TABLE of CONTENTS • I. SYNOPSIS Exotic Artifacts are special legendary pieces of equipment, only qualifying for Class 4, and must earn Class 5 to achieve the full benefit for the specific equipment, and must be obtained in very specific ways, set forth by the creator/DM/GM/Staff. These ways have to be met or the equipment is forfeited and you are ejected from your location and spat back to Xaengri La. How you arrive in Xaengri La is entirely dependent upon the course of actions prior to attempting to take on the quest in the first place: were you dead, or alive? Did you fail the quest because of death? II. STIPULATIONS As stated above, these pieces of equipment will directly specify what exactly is the end goal and/or nature of acquisition, however there is a specific focus to performing this task to acquire said artifact. Some may call for you to follow a specific challenge in order to retrieve the equipment, some will call for extreme measures, and others will involve death. Before this worries you, don't forget to read the Rules of Engagement for Izral and understand that Death is not an ending, but an alternative path to your character's story development, designed by you, but aided by us to add depth and give you another aspect of writing to experience. III. RULES a.) The creator of the weapon will designate the end goal of achievement, or it will be automatically decided by an GM of Alterion. b.) You will abide by the Stipulations and Rules to obtain your equipment, or you will not receive it. c.) If you have a submission for this board, please use the template provided and submit it to @Syncopy via PM for review and submission. IV. DISCLAIMER Lastly, if you are reading this and you are disinterested because the D1E aspect to various things and it doesn't appeal to your style of combat (T1 over Dice NPC), then you may take the liberty to modify the present status to reflect something more T1. Request assistance from the creator or GM for alterations. e.g. Instead of additional +1 to attacks, you gain a rush of energy which allows you to strike more ferociously. It's the same thing, worded without the notion of dice. You get the idea. Same goes for any other sets or items you will find here. The Dice System is not mandatory or forced. [SC | Soul Carver's Set] — Creator & GM @Syncopy Vast Well-Hound | If a player has two or more set pieces, each item gains the ability to store +1 Prep. Going into battle, these are available, but once spent the user will be required to either refill them during combat—or exit a combat thread to have them replenished. Lich Dexterity | If a player has three or more set pieces, no 1s can be rolled—unless desired so by the user for specific gain. Reroll 1s. Becoming The Reaper | If a player has four or more set pieces, they may create a new ability [approved by creator or GM (purposes of OP-tracking)] on each weapon; taught to it by the user, so that it will not require mana, conscious effort, or fatigue of preparation, due to weapon sentience. SC Battleaxe SC Hammer SC Greatsword SC Shortsword SC Twinblades SC Bow SC Shield SC Staff SC Tome & Totem SC Instrument The Enhancements for these weapons are specialized gems that can be manipulated to be exchanged ONLY BETWEEN other SC weapons, for added customization. Proximal skills/abilities may be 'In Addition To'. Speak with GM about Stacking Abilities. Stipulations and Rules The SC equipment can only be obtained in one of two ways: Successfully capture & turn-in or kill someone on the Elite Bounty Listing. Complete a Return from Death (RfD) Quest, in Xaengri La. This requires you to die within Izral, of your own doing or whoever you desire and your body be transported to the soul realm side of Xaengri La, where you complete a 40 post quest to self-resurrect.
  8. Xaengri-La :: the Spirit Realm Jaakuna Keimusho :: Prison of the Damned Prison in the spirit realm was not the same as that of the real world. Madness is the status quo. The real world focused on controlling an environment, setting rules and boundaries in which inmates must follow to the letter or be punished. The segregation of specific persons based on their intentions, their history, and their crime was a paramount priority to maintain this element of control, however in a place such as Xaengri-La ... such control and law were vastly skewed, if not entirely backwards. The realm itself was said to be a mirror of corporeality; like a layer of cells upon the epidermis of the seen, lay beneath in waiting and watching. The mirror could be distorted at times, broken in others, and all housed by the demented and insane, gone that way by merely watching the waves of humanity from a fishbowl looking glass. The demons that rule the place—if they could be called that, were often lost souls themselves at one point that in some way, shape, or form obtained a power or gift that allowed them to begin a form of mimicry control as they watched the those in the looking glass perform. And so the cycle repeated itself... on and on, and on, and on ... you can imagine one going insane for being put in a place like this. The boundaries of the Spirit world and the Corporeal are not to be messed with lightly, and often forbidden for commune. Mediums communicate through telepathy and otherworldly gifts, which are often a means of information transmission, but those who are extremely powerful can perform ethereal projections and more... It has always been those who seek more power in the Corporeal realm that meddle in the arts of Aether, Ethereality, and the Consumption of the Soul (or sacrifice) to gain this power. With such a gift (or curse), some have even been known to alter the destiny of those within the Spirit Realm, an unthinkable act—to meddle in the affairs of the dead.
  9. Ayden

    Soulbound [D1E]

    Phase 1: The Challenge The beautiful village on the outskirts of Xaengri-La ported against the tropical island's eastern beach side. Relatively small in comparison to the rest of Xaengri-La, the village had come to be known as The Hue. The way the light reflects off the cobblestone, sand from the beach, and deep waters caters to the name that the village had come to claim. A warmth would radiate for the village despite how small it was, providing a sense of safety and comfort that most had come to enjoy. It had been weeks since the request had been given to the people of his village. Sending word of the cave that swarmed with creatures nearby was all he needed to summon the companions needed to accomplish this task. The village had gone so long relying an him, an unknown creature at best, to aid The Hue from anything that dared taint its charm - that a request so rare would not go without the attention it deserved. Yet for Yehudiah, it was so much more than clearing out a cave of petty monsters. He would need companions to get into the final chamber of The Cave of the Damned in order to retrieve a precious heirloom that belonged to his family. Yehudiah had searched for companions within The Hue, but none were worthy enough to put his life in their own hands. So now he waited on the outskirts of the village where he told the locals to send those who arrive. Standing just off the cobblestone road that leads into the village, Yehudiah rests with his back against a tropical tree. Lush greens paint a canopy within the sky, shadowing the earth below as the trees lay dense around The Hue. Above the tree tops, a bright blue sky and early sun mark the start of day. Passerby’s who looked upon him didn't stare to long as they shuffled along at a quickened pace. Just seeing Yehudiah struck a chord with most, thinking he be a demon among men, a devil in disguise, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Sharp ebony horns protrude from his short blond hair. Dark brown leather clothes would cover his chest and legs, clearly ready for some sort of challenger to present themselves. Though relaxed, a Broad sword would be planted tip first into the soft earth as his hand rested upon the pommel. Attached to his backside, a Rod of Thunder relaxed. Tucked within his belt, a sheathed dagger would rest. Milky white eyes would scan the area, it was about time his next challenger would arrive. He only hoped they would be worthy... Level: 10 EXP: [1/10]
  10. In the northern reaches of Alterion lay a large tropical island floating amidst the glacier-laced seas just a hundred miles to the east. Due to the warm tides that came from the north clashing with Izral's mountainous winters, a perpetual fog lingers along the northwestern banks of the mainland which left most sailors to steer clear of the treacherous rocky cliffs and seemingly always to stumble upon a tropical island with such sights and beauty that some stopped in for supplies and ended up never leaving. With the perpetual tourism and constant traffic of vessels in and out of the ports, the small island of Xaengri-La, often referred to as XLa or XL (mostly because the travelers struggled so much with trying to pronounce the odd grouping of letters), there seemed to be a lack of government in the area. Izral had enough trouble on the mainland that the island of seafarers didn't even cause a blip on the map and they seemed to manage themselves quite nicely at that. If you asked anyone though, the would tell you that the business of import and export was in a helix-union with the dominance of a single family and one establishment: the Tea Key Oasis. It is often asked how the TKO got it's name by the tourists that come in and out of the ports and stop in needing to quench a thirst or were looking for a bed beyond compare—especially on a cold, hard board in a ship on a rocky ocean. A lively bartender often would reply—the TKO is a hand-me-down through three generations of Fairfax; their great-great grandfather used to have a small home and tiki hut on the small harbor back when the island was nubile. He often served warm tea to the sea-worn travelers that seemed to have some sort of magical or healing properties, which kept bringing more and more travelers around—hearing of the great assistance and friendliness that came of the island. Because it is an island, it took to the name of travelers: the Tea key. The rest is history as the establishment grew through the generations, it kept the ideals of prosperity and care for the travelers. Sirus Fairfax was one such family member that often could be found moving about the bar with a finesse that left patrons curious of a gender. He was often confused for a woman, hit on by men, and found himself in the most curious of praises only to be scolded or yelled at by leary seamen and their yearning for flesh. Nevertheless, Sirus acted as not only a proprietor of the TKO, but also as a server and host to newcomers. Their business was dependant upon their attitudes, so he maintained the cute, boyish looks as best as he could, being something far prettier than most of the nasty sea lizards that lurked the ports looking for a quick lay and a sliver of coin. The TKO was much more than just a pub. The center of the bar was double-tiered and had a perfect mech of old-world Izral and new-tech Arkadia Prime as they were a middle-ground for both countries. The bar served as a staple for the port work as it was in the middle of a massive walking path between other shops and the port itself, which entangled almost every bit of seaside space available. Only the rich still had beach access and few had resort spots along the western side that was more enclosed and secluded. Around the bar were stout tables which were often filled with sailors, travelers, and tourists eating and drinking from the full-serve kitchens which served primarily seafood—obviously. Other meats were often considered delicacies and thus were over-the-top expensive and rare at that. Surrounding this walk-through with a bar in the middle was an inn and lodging for groups which would include barracks, which included bathrooms and bedrooms, keeping it short and sweet for people who wanted to be in and out. A seaside, one-stop-shop for anyone passing through the area!
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