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Dragon's Mask

Riley looked around, her eyes darting this way and that. Panic had set in now. The objects littered the floor, they were useless to her. What's worse was the little mouse Dooa's near-constant shrieking, loud and shrill, that absolutely disrupted any attempt at thought.

"Quiet, you," Riley hissed, not daring to do any more. She knew well enough that rodents, when shook, are vulnerable to having their necks break. Even for annoying ones, that is not a fate that any living creature deserves. Come on, think! Think! Should they hide under the blankets? No, it's folded up in the corner, and probably for a reason. Someone or somethings would see it was out of place and know something was up. Dive into the pillows? Perhaps . . . unless some horror wasn't looking where it was going and squashed the lot of them under their toes. "Lad, you got any ideas?" she asked, looking over to Arthur. Surely he must know something!

Magic RP (Open to new players)

"If you say," Ardasa sighed, reluctantly turning her head back towards the statue. It stayed as unmoving and grim as it always had. Was this a condemnation, or an encouragement? Only the three gods knew what they wanted from their servants, and for reasons only known to their great wisdom, they didn't say much. What Kali said made sense, it always did. Still, all this deception, working behind the curtain stuff all seemed a bit . . . dishonest, didn't it? It wasn't always like this. She remembered being a tribal girl, running across sand and shrubbery with her father's strongest warriors and all the other children of the tribe. She was the chief's daughter, but felt nonetheless a part of a greater whole. Maybe the title of empress is too big for her. Having a tribe of a hundred thousand made the connection felt between all members fuzzy, then severs it altogether. It was so different, with rules between kobolds even when there weren't. Maybe she did need to have some agency over how the Empire was being run. To teach these people, so many of them former laborers and slaves, the way the kobolds lived before dracons took power. "Could you teach me?" Ardasa asked. Dare she dream it, the statue of Arda cracked a small smile at that.

Magic RP (Open to new players)

"Me?" Ardasa said, with a laugh. "Influence Rughoi? No . . . surely not. He keeps his own council, and neither I nor his advisors have a good history with changing his mind. Believe me, I've tried. I'm a year older than he is, but that means nothing to him." She quieted down, and stared in silence up at the statue of Arda. It looked back down at her with a strange conviction, one that she was sure wasn't there before. It showed a pride in its face, the pride of the strong mother, who could keep both the snake god Hetuis and the trickster god Scen in check by force of will. "But, supposing there is a way . . . " Ardasa hummed.
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Kutur held up the blue bottle, peering suspiciously at the interior. It was filled with a thick, goopy liquid, that seemed to catch light within it. The insides shook, as if it were alive, a testament to its magical potential. He watched as the other magisters imbibed the liquid, some holding their noses and others crying. He was not feeling good about having to drink it himself. Still, with a couple of deep breaths, he followed suit. The liquid tasted horrible, like sugar so burnt it might as well have become ash. Then, the headache began. He keeled over, eyes blurring. Others around him were doing the same. Either that or desperately trying to throw the potion back up. Exarch Rokkar, whom he had spoken with earlier, was banging his head against the wall and roaring at the ceiling. This was how the vote had to be cast. Now Kutur must make a decision.

Dragon's Mask

Still here. Just waiting on you guys.

Magic RP (Open to new players)

"Certainly. Though I would like to be reunited with my loyal warriors, quickly if possible," said Rebat. The situation he left was tense, that he knew. He can only hope that his soldiers were not already slaughtered where they stood by an angry mob, or worse.
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"May Arda give me her blessing," Ardasa whispered, staring up at the statue. She at her full height was now taller than the carving, but in this kneeling position, there was no doubt who had the authority. It stared down at her, challenging her to take the position. She would never dare. She liked it that way. Her namesake was the goddess of steel, the steel that won glory in battle. Both a commander and a caretaker at once, she was the mother that all kobold aspired to be. "I wonder what it will be like, once I am eaten by Hetuis," she hummed. "After I brave the ordeals of his stomach, I am released into the afterlife. Will I dance with the gods?" She looked over at Kali with a friendly grin, hoping to find some validation in her theological musings.

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

(Boy, @MrDidact is everywhere these days. Thanks!)

How appropriate. Meeting in the dead of night. On a night like this, so dark that even a god cannot see the hatching of a perfect plot. Jon raised his lamp hand, and lifted it up, then down, in a line pattern. That was the signal. From here, there would be no going back till old Frados was fallen.

The streets were asleep, until suddenly several men in dark cloaks appeared out of the haze of the night, advancing steadily towards Jon until they were within clear speaking distance. Most of them dispersed, taking positions along the street while three made for Jon himself.

The man in the lead stopped short of the Roxton knight and threw back his hood, revealing an old knight. His black hair had gone mostly to grey, and his skin was wrinkled but he had the bearing and build of a lifelong soldier.

He nodded at Jon and his voice came out as a low baritone, "Thank you for meeting with me Ser Jon. No winesink, but we needs must stay away from prying eyes." He smiled then and said, "Within a month your cousin will be dead, and you shall be the Lord of the Ring. Now let us discuss details, shall we?"

"Well met, Lord Wythers. A fine night, heralding good times ahead," Jon responded, with a wicked smile. "You are a busy man, I'm sure. I shall try to preserve your precious time. Let us begin." His smile grew wider, looking for all the world as if a dagger had been laid across his face. "The Bushys have never been a major player in our little spot of the world. It has always been between the Roxtons and Wythers, battling it out through history to take control of land that is rightfully one, but has been split into three. I offer you an opportunity to change all that." Jon removed the satchel from his person, and began distributing papers among the Wythers people. "Maps of King's Landing, accurate as money can buy. Notes and plans, anticipating Frados' entry down to the count." He cannot tell if the Wythers agents approved, but their silence seemed to indicate for him to continue. "Frados is our lifelong enemy. Both of ours. He endlessly plots to steal the lives of noble Wythers, and he intends to find me right after. It is in our common interest, as well as the interest of the realm and the king, that he lay in the ground. Word is that his banners are raising, painted black."

Lord Wythers nodded, "He'll come down the roseroad with the rest of the Reachmen. We will have men watching him all the while. But we cannot strike until he and his entourage are to bed. We'll end his life while he sleeps. We can blame it on a peasant attack, with the tensions in the city. In the hustle of the King's funeral, we can pull this off in secret."

He grimaced then, "Any hate you have for Frados, I have it tenfold. I will gladly welcome his end, my only regret will be that I can't witness it myself. Then we may present ourselves as the loyal vassals of King Aegon."

Wythers crossed his arms, "We can announce your betrothal to my granddaughter. And your cousin Lindsay's betrothal to my grandson. We'll knit the houses together. And the Bushys will fall in line easily. Bend the knee to me and the valley will be ours."

"A deal then," Jon said, taking a bow before Lord Wythers. "My respects . . . I hadn't realized I was to meet with the new High Lord."

Wythers smiled and motioned for Jon to rise, "That is the plan, and with it we can finally put this feud to rest. Just enjoy the funeral festivities, and you can woo the young lady of the Ring to our side. And soon I can call you my grandson. I believe that's all, Ser Jon?"

"I see we are on the same page," Jon said. "I make for the Reach immediately, stopping not for rest. As you can imagine, I am eager indeed to return to my home. My castle. Goodbye for now, High Lord Wythers. I will see you again when I bend the knee." Jon took his fingers and squeezed the light in his lamp, plunging himself in dark.

Dragon's Mask

Riley immediately took off running for the elevator. With every hasty look over her shoulder, the water seemed to rear closer, while every look forwards seemed to tell her that the elevator was coming no closer. However, she didn't trust the Gold Lady, that she was sure of. Anyone who did must not have something completely right with them, either. If she allowed herself to be picked up by the mechanical fox, where would she land? In the water? Right into the lap of a monster? No, best rely on her own two feet for the time being.

The elevator flashed a brilliant red, inviting Riley in with its welcoming light. She was so close now, but a few steps back she swore water lapped at her heels. She couldn't even tell if her stockings were wet, in this hurry and sheer terror. Her mind shuddered, imagining why the locals were so afraid of the water. What could be in it? There were always stories in the newspaper, heralding sharks appearing dangerously close to the shores, and once there was a harrowing image that still haunted her nightmares today. What was in this water, in this land of fairies? A shark? Or something worse? Don't think. Just keep running, keep running, keep running . . .

Hospital of Fear (A Boogeyman Story)

Hmmm . . . if it's not too late, I am in fact somewhat interested in this.

Magic RP (Open to new players)

Rebat followed his host, occasionally having to run to keep up with the mount. His mind was somewhere else entirely. Mazdak almost seems afraid of the eventual meeting between him and this general Seleucus. Was it because of him? The kobold customs were often said to be far less formal, but Rebat had thought that everyone was quite civil in his last visit. Perhaps he needed to make a better effort this second time around.

The kobold army marched right through the gates of Hekaga, and poured into the city. Dracons, upon seeing them, kept a wide berth, and drew an invisible line between them and the army that none cared to cross. It was then that Rebat realized his mistake. Obviously, the dracons must think this an invasion, and he, like a fool, sent the army through to the city simply because the gate was open. He reminded himself that dracon ways required a bit more tact, and resolved to clear this up as soon as possible. "Wait here," he commanded, then crossed the invisible line towards the palace. "Pardon me," he said, as he approached dracons watching in suspicion and a bit of fear. This was unnecessary, though, as they all seemed to part, some of them even flinching back, to let him pass.

Quick as his warped legs can take him, he ascended the steps leading up to the palace. The sooner this incident is sorted out and the people pacified, the better. Last time he was here, he was expected to clean himself up and present formally before the court. However, this time it should be alright for him to go right through. They were familiar with him now, right? Armed with that thought, he pushed in the main door with a resounding screech, and found on the other side a sea of stunned faces. Oops. Did he misjudge something?

Magic RP (Open to new players)

Rebat took the scroll, nodding. "Nobody's easy," he said, mostly to himself. Least of all Merat, his old commanding officer. Merat was one who demanded too much, then became furious when not every single order was carried out to success. When the wars for Traeton came to a close, Rebat was given a promotion he could not refuse. He promised himself he would never act as Merat had. It mattered not that this Seleucus was no diplomat, nor did it matter that the soldiers following him were undisciplined and itching for a fight. With a sharp command, the columns of kobolds descended upon the city. Time to pay their respects to the Grand Prince.
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"Order! Order!" Came a shout from the front. Kutur craned his neck and looked up at the buildings around him. Mighty statues, endless columns and arches, a stained-glass dome above his head. Built, he knew, by a grateful Basileus to usher in the end of the suppression of magic in Constantsea. This was where the academy of scholars in the Bythesea Empire met, and where the archmages of old were buried, as the case is now. A slender, hunchbacked woman hobbled up to the front of the crowd. "Magisters, exarchs, and secular rulers! Today we mourn the loss of our greatest, our wisest, the Archmagus Lionus!" a mutter went through the crowd. Someone to the left of him, a Strategos of some sort, wiped a tear from his eye. "Tomorrow, our most harrowing choice will be made once again. All wielders of the three disciplines must now choose a new archmage. May the Titans guide your hand." With that, the crowd began to disperse.

"Alexius, a word," said someone, just as Kutur was about to leave. He turned, and saw one of the exarchs, a stern orc who always kept the library strictly enforced. "I trust you have contributed to our library, with all the wisdom you've seen." Kutur fumbled about in his robes, and eventually pulled out one of his books.

"This is one I wrote, exarch," he said, handing it over. "It details the rise of the Son of the Dragons from the far continent."

"I'm not familiar with any of that name," the exarch muttered, adjusting his spectacles.

"It's quite new," Kutur explained. "He was once in talks with the Basileus himself." The exarch nodded.

"I trust your word, Alexius," he said. "I wish you well on the far continent. I have not seen it like you have, but I am told there is much unexplored there, and many evils. I hear of great rebellions, and cities burning to ash." Kutur gulped. A lot of what he said sounded familiar. "But as I said, I have not seen it like you have. I encourage you to continue observing this Son of the Dragons. For history."

"I promise," Kutur said.