Dark Light

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

<Snipped quote by Dark Light>

Thank you! Mb, I didn’t subscribe to the thread prior, so I wasn’t notified about your response the other week, but now I’ve subbed.

I’ll drop Terry’s CS some time soon. We can play as many characters as we like, can’t we? Because I’ve been thinking of bringing some of the characters that I otherwise didn’t get to or couldn’t apply for other groups anymore.

@Terry Bogard

Yea, you can bring anyone in and even have a few going at once, I just ask you don't bombard the thread with too many at once. Make sure you leave a bit of room for others ;)
But otherwise yea, its a great place to give some of those character that never quite made it some new life.

Look forward to seeing your characters!

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

<Snipped quote by Dark Light>

Ah, mb. Just caught up with this group again, sorry.

And... Thanks! I was thinking of either using my usual character or a comic character for this. Do I have to send his character sheet here?

@Terry Bogard

You can just drop the character sheet in the character tab. No need for approval, it's just to help other players learn a little more about your character.

And then jump into the tavern whenever your ready.

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

The imp was near statue like with its wide empty eyes and patient gaze. Eventually it turned to face the woman that the shadow spoke of, tilting its head to the side, weighed by thought, thinking -deeply.

The man tried to gently usher the imp along, but only managed to force it to hop to the edge of the table where he lost interest in it with a grumble.

The imp turned to look back up over the man's shoulder.

"But they belong to that human, and...
It is not nourishment."

The reply was once again unspoken and this time touched by a sense of confusion.

@Varicke

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

@Varicke

Ahhh that's amazing to hear 😄
Thank you so much.

I'm really glad you have fond memories of it. Means a lot. Also glad to know you're going well.

Alrighty then, let's see if we can't liven things up a little more!

Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay

So my research on a young Odin lead me to the Stone Age Avengers or Avengers of 10000000 BC, and besides the ghost rider on a fiery mammoth, Odin had an affair with the Phoenix force, Thor's mother.

Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay

The Logan I didn't know I needed.

Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay

Ok. So I'm thinking a young Odin, after sacrificing his eye but before gaining his brothers powers, exploring a potential future.
He will likely use an alias, acting as a wanderer.

Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay

Ooh this looks exciting, no idea for a character yet but would be keen to collab on a backstory/shared history.

Friends/rivals/same super group ect

If anyone had any ideas shout out.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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The Barn

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Since her mention of not serving the prince, a perplexed look had sat on his face, as though he had been presented with the most peculiar of riddles. It lingered there until she finally gave her name.

It suddenly all made sense. That gnawing familiarity in those soft, feminine features—she was more than just another Aurelian.
"Ah ha! Thalia Evercrest!" he exclaimed, slapping his pant leg with his free hand. Excitement broke through as the mystery unraveled before him. He knew he recognized that face from somewhere. And there it was, the striking juxtaposition of noble elegance, veiled beneath the rough disguise of a stablehand’s garb.

"Ah, yes. Evercrest," he said with a reminiscent air. "Your family reared horses, didn’t they? What became of them? I remember the great estate from my younger days. Every lad wanted to ride an Evercrest." He smiled distantly, lost in memory. "How is your mother, by the way?"

A gradual, childish smirk crept across his face. The not-so-subtle innuendo added a cheeky youthfulness to his features, carrying with it fond memories of old times. He grinned foolishly, as if he alone held a private secret, or a rather clever dirty joke.
Thalia would be able to see the path of his thoughts, the road of memories quickly darkening. His features shifted, telling a silent story as youthful joy faded to a sorrowful sigh, morphing into a hybrid of regret and grief. Cutting the journey short, fleeing the ghosts waiting at its end, he cleared his throat and pulled himself back to the present, his gaze returning to her. Thalia Evercrest.

"Yes, my brothers used to say…" he began enthusiastically, clinging to a spark of joy, but his words faltered as his eyes settled on her. He stopped abruptly, as though remembering who it was he was truly speaking to.
"Ah well, we used to say many things. Nothing of importance though. Forgive my rambling. I’ve spoken with too few of late, and it can be difficult to let go of brighter days gone. I... well, I suppose I don’t need to explain that to you."

He looked her over once again, sympathy in his eyes, a false smile on his lips. His gaze seemed to notice every smudge of dirt, drop of dung, and clump of straw. He did not see the confident, spirited woman beneath only the simple farmhand before him. A noble reduced to a servant, something he could not reconcile. They were two entirely different things, after all. How was he to treat her now? It was a perplexing moral conundrum.

"If I recall... were you not nearly engaged to the prince himself?" were the words he spoke. Yet beneath them lingered the unspoken question: 'What foul misfortune has befallen you?'
There was a hint of concern in his voice. If it could happen to her, it could happen to any of them, right.
'Was it because of this place? Might it happen to me as well?'

So unsure of what to do with this revelation, so uncertain, he looked as though he might be on the brink of offering her coin out of sheer sympathy.

Starwake - Shadows of the Sphere

The hours dragged on and the negotiations drifted into less formal waters, as they so often did aboard the Starfire Ascendant. What began in Violet’s private suite—an expensively furnished chamber reserved for high-ranking guests—soon gave way to leisure.

The room itself was as much a stage as a sanctuary with a wide observation window framing the starfield beyond the ship. It was from here that the small gathering spilled outward, gravity pulling them inevitably toward the entertainment decks (despite anyone's effort for the contrary). Deals were rarely struck in ink alone, and conversations stretched more freely when drink and distraction were at hand.

The destination became one of the ship’s upper-class bars: The Celestial Parlor. Its walls were an ever-shifting panorama of nebulae and starlines, a programmed illusion that gave the impression of drinking in open space. A chandelier of floating light-orbs cast a soft aurora over lacquered tables. Music drifted from a synth-string quartet in the corner, soft enough not to drown conversation, but insistent enough to remind everyone they were in a place of refinement.

It was here that Violet’s attention found Elkon Mishima. Unlike so many executives who veiled themselves behind bodyguards, false names, and discretion, Mishima thrived on visibility. His arrival was theatrical—coat of woven nano-silk flashing with shifting patterns, a drink in one hand and a cigar-like stim in the other. His laughter carried across the room, deliberate, his voice a performance meant to claim territory. The projection band on his wrist spelled his family crest in burning kanji, bright enough to reflect in the polished glass of the bar. People noticed him because he demanded to be noticed.

Elsewhere, the press of the crowd revealed something more unsettling. Between reflections in the mirrored columns and the play of holographic light, Darya caught sight of them: the smooth, featureless face of a rabbit mask. Not once, but twice. Identical to the one worn by the enigmatic woman from earlier in the evening. Each glimpse was fleeting—a shape lingering at the edge of the crowd, gone the moment the eye focused. The figures never stood long enough to be studied. No voice, no stance, no height that matched the woman before. Just the repeating image of the mask, as if the ship itself were reflecting her presence back at them in fragments.

When the evening finally wound down, the return to their quarters was a quieter affair. The Starfire Ascendant’s guest corridors were far from the bright lights of its social decks. Carpeting muffled each footstep. The walls hummed faintly with the pulse of the ship’s reactors. Every so often, the ceiling lights dimmed to simulate a shipboard “night cycle,” leaving the passages tinted in pale indigo.

It was only when they reached Violet’s suite again that something seemed… wrong. The door was not sealed. Instead, it hung just slightly ajar. Not wide—no more than the width of a finger—but enough that a thin seam of shadow leaked through the gap onto the corridor’s carpet.

No sound came from within. No movement. Just the faint, expectant silence of a space that should have been secure.