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In The Epic of Beginnings - Fragments of a weathered scroll → 5 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

@Pyromania99@Rune_Alchemist


Vasserasa’s handshake…well, this was certainly a culture clash indeed. Isidore held her hand firmly though, shaking thrice before releasing. More interesting was the evasiveness of her language around topics that seemed self-evident to Isidore. Of course it wasn’t a simple raiding party, if there was someone of importance in Dirithen society involved, if the gates to the Dirithen city were sealed off. It would have been wonderful, really, if the queen offered any time for questions, but if the discussion was to be tabled until tomorrow, then there was something to be considered.

What preparation needs to be made by Vasserasa before this discussion was had?

He remained silent as the rest of the conversation closed out, picking out what information was important to remember. Cultural exchange largely for the purpose of homogenizing history and exchanging military information? Or, in other words, not cultural exchange at all. Rullphana was a name that popped up as well. An advisor or a professor, perhaps, paid for by royalty. And finally, Nersherit was at least willing to talk when asked, establishing that there was a library in the palace. A place worth visiting later on, doubly so if his position as part of the Sirithen delegation afford him more access than a mere guest.

The rooms were nice though, and after days spent out in the wilderness without even a proper bed, Isidore’s body positively ached for the soft mattress. The cracks in the walls from which vegetation sprouted was a nice touch as well, reminiscent of that Japanese crafts concept that one of his associates had told him about before, and the lighting managed to strike a balance between ‘bright enough to read’ and ‘dark enough to sleep’. It was good, then. Better that he had his own room too.

As Sorcha brought everyone into her shared room and spoke, Isidore swung his pack down and retrieved his map. Laying it down on the table, he spoke, “This map may be helpful. There’s a sizable Dirithen population in Gloomhaven. I will ask around. As for Firebeard…you believe he’s only part of a faction, not the leader? He was addressed as a Lord by the ones that attacked us.”

In Cacophony Concord → 5 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Two translucent shells formed around Amulak, but against the sheer force of the infernal chopper, they were as effective as glass, shattering into a thousand pieces. Mana Shield, however, was a spell designed for damage reduction, not damage mitigation, and that, combined with Amulak’s END and the passive effect of his Bulwark Boneplate, was enough to reduce the damage taken all the way down to 43, the wicked blade slicing into his right thigh but stopping before it could crack the bone.

“C’mon man! Where’s your footwork?”

There was, of course, no way that the mud-drenched warrior would just retreat after that. In close-quarters, the necromancer simply didn’t have the tools to handle a chopper-swinging maniac. Ames and Klein, in the face of such barbaric violence, was a step too slow to intervene, while Raime, even as the world slowed further with the invocation of his Scout abilities, quickly realized this: he was still fast, but in these desecrated lands, his speed was no longer exceptional. Six slashes scored red lines through the muck, eliciting a holler of excited aggression from the warrior, but did little to stop them from grabbing Amulak by the throat and smashing him against the tunnel wall. It was only common sense, after all, to target the caster, and with all three tanks preoccupied in one fashion or the other, nothing could stop them from doing it two more times for good measure.

By the time the dust settled, there was an Amulak-shaped imprint in the wall, the mage himself having received another 334 damage from the three-hit ‘combo’. Still keeping a hand on Amulak’s throat, the mud-drenched warrior turned to the others, a bright red tongue flicking out to lick away the blood that splattered onto their face.

“And yes, I can fucking talk,” they laughed, sneering at Raime, before addressing the party more broadly. “Now, here I was, thinking y’all were gonna jump me, but now I see only two of you actually tried? Got some drama going on here? Some ‘oh shit, we fucked with the wrong guy’ vibes? What’s the plan, fellas? We gonna keep going til I turn y’all into zombs?”

There was a crash, as Magpie launched herself through the air and…into another wall, narrowly missing Klein and Ames. Self-inflicted damage lowered her HP by a shameful 54 damage, a tragic consequence of having more strength than she knew how to handle.

“And what’s her deal?”
@Shovel@Searat@Psyker Landshark@OwO@Yankee

“Sweet. Let’s see…” Bortz made some finger motions, as if interacting with an invisible screen, and a ‘ping’ sounded in Ari’s head. A new window popped up, a friend request from Bortz. "...there we go!"

Droko raised a brow. “Vator’s not gonna like this.”

But Vator, tragically, wasn’t here.

…

Time passed on.

The sun arced closer to the horizon, dying the sky orange and magenta. Despite the lack of any healer, the trio of frontline combatants made quick work of the few monsters they encountered on the road, while Ari’s support helped patch the gaps that existed due to their lack of ranged attacks and magic as well. Against a giant vulture, the party had to resort to extreme tactics like throwing rocks at it, but other than that particular instance, it was smooth sailing. Long stretches of gently rolling roads, good weather, occasional chatter, and the song of nature made travelling more pleasurable than it seemed. The bodies of the Immortals fatigued at a much slower rate than reality, and the late lunch they had of steamed buns and pickled plums was surprisingly delicious.

It was strange, how even ordinary landscapes, the type that one could’ve seen with just a quick Google search, became something just a little bit special.

By the time the afternoon heat died and the nighttime chills were seeping into the hills, they had arrived at Shin-Jia. Man-Joji, ever willing to dispense knowledge, had spoken of the village as a rustic place, and it was certainly…rustic. Perhaps only fifty people lived in this community of old-timers and children, and the state of the wooden huts that made up most of the homes reflected that. Raised one foot up on wooden platforms, they looked to be a combination of lightweight and easy to repair, though consequently humble in appearance. There was a well that the village was centered around, as well as a river and a couple of gangly livestock that afford Shin-Jia some self-sufficiency, but going by what Man-Joji said, the majority of young adults had simply moved to Nyu-Taro or larger villages to work, occasionally sending money and goods back to their parents and children.

“To conclude,” Man-Joji said, hopping off his carriage and tying the reins to a withered husk of a tree, “Shin-Jia doesn’t have a proper inn, so I’ll be going off to negotiate with the village head for our accommodations. Feel free to take a look around while you wait; I’m sure the children would love to hear some stories.” The merchant paused, then winked. “Just don’t go running off with my wares, ok?”
@GreenGoat
In The Archon Resonance → 5 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Gonna keep an eye on this. Still reading through it, but it seems interesting.
In DanMachi: Phoenix Fabula → 5 yrs ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Right, and how much of the stat/RPG-shenanigans were you planning on inserting into this? Also, seeing how normally it takes a hell lot of time to go from one level to the next, are you going to employ timeskips, or are we all going to be starting at a higher level than 1?
In DanMachi: Phoenix Fabula → 5 yrs ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks
So this is Danmachi but based more of Japanese mythos than Euro?
In Enter: Into an Isekai World → 5 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Think we're waiting on ya again, Ink.
In Cacophony Concord → 5 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
It was like a police siren went off in his skull. The moment [Detect] was invoked, warning signs surged into Raime’s mind, alerting the scout not only to the countless ghosts surging within the darkness beyond Ames’s firelight, but also to the general areas where pools of tar, fathomless in depth, must be present. In the farthest edges of his Detect’s range as well, he could sense greater evils, monstrosities that would certainly present a greater challenge to the party than whatever they’ve faced before. But there was no sign of those spiritual atrocities moving; Amulak was the one that shot first.

Words of power so profane that it could only be alluded to indirectly seeped through the lips of the necromancer, his arcane veins surging with more power than he had ever unleashed before. Magic coalesced unseen within the cavern, dripping downwards like stalactites until, with the ringing screech of a blade drawn from a scabbard, they shot for their target.

But the mud-drenched warrior was fast as well. Letting out a deep breath, it somersaulted backwards, the arcane constructs sinking silently into the tar while the warrior landed into a crouch instead, their brutish chopper resting on their shoulder. Whatever response they had for Amulak’s attack was paused by Magpie’s flying bodyslam though. With the mid-air activation of [The Bulldozer], the brawler’s joints and limbs locked in midair, her defenses surging rapidly as momentum carried her towards her target. It hissed in another breath and rolled out the way, allowing the surprisingly fast, disgustingly strong, yet basically paralyzed brawler to fly out of Ames’s range and into the ghost-infested darkness.

The animist’s soul-split shield could only fly twenty meters away from him, after all, and the light cast by the phantasmal flame reached that same amount. It was a good trick for exploration, but for superhuman combat? For the rest of the party, including the hesitant Klein, it was as if Magpie was sucked into the darkness.

And as for the mud-covered warrior?

Rising up from their dodge roll, it raised its left hand up and wiped the cursed tar from its eyes, revealing a set of sanguine irises, redder than even Ames’s flames. “Ok, alright,” it spoke, tone light and conversational. “So we fightin’ fighting, hanh? Bring it on then, ya fuckers!”

Without a pause, the warrior swung its chopper into its own arm, cutting into the bone and drawing out blood that ignited instantly into a purple blaze.

“Let’s fucking GOOOOO!”

And with an earth-cracking kick, it leapt for Amulak, the infernal axe swinging for the hooded mage’s legs.
@Shovel@Searat@Psyker Landshark@OwO@Yankee

“Indianna Jones?” Bortz furrowed his brows. “What?”

Droko shared the same look of confusion, but didn’t decide to marginalize Ari’s hobbies and changed the subject instead. “Tournament brackets are usually divided by level, actually. I mean, Horogi’s a bit of a special case because they have individual arenas for each major clan except for the Gakui-Re, but you could always dip your feet into it by checking out the one at Nyu-Taro.”

“Oh yeah,” the hammer man butted in, glad to be in the loop again. “Go there all the time. Making a name for myself in the Silver Sub-100 tier, even! Great for working out the kinks of your build; after all, it’s only in an itemless 1v1 where your skills really shine!”

“Fucking Smash goon,” Droko muttered under her breath.

Bortz continued unabated. “Could give you a tour of Nyu-Taro’s arena after this, Ari. Hook you up with some of my seniors. They'll teach ya the ropes pretty quick, 'specially if you're already a manual gamer."
@GreenGoat
In The Epic of Beginnings - Fragments of a weathered scroll → 5 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

@Pyromania99@Rune_Alchemist


By the time Sorcha came to view, Isidore found himself settled, his emotions in check and a stalwart purpose behind every movement again. Was this just experience, or had part of his 'peak human' status helped with the processing of toxins that his liver was currently handling? Regardless, he tilted his head slightly to the side at the swordswoman's reaction and said, "I'm perfectly lucid, Sorcha. And it's no problem. Considering circumstances, Leuca most likely needed some fun anyhow."

Still too many words. His tongue was still loosened by that ale, and Isidore still found himself speaking before contemplating. He frowned slightly, but whatever concerns he had, whatever thoughts, were chased away by Augusta's arrival.

Though the tower certainly hadn't done her any favors in terms of hygiene, with three days of travel bearing heavily on her otherwise alabaster complexion, the difference a well-made dress alone turned Augusta from merely being merely beautiful to being on the cusp of breath-taking. The mixture of colors was reminiscent of the night sky, golden embellishments a mimicry of the moon's splendor. It was curious, that the Urutha, a subterranean race, drew such inspiration from the night sky. Portions of it looked padded though, at least from what he recalled of the woman's silhouette before, serving to accentuate Augusta's natural curves in a tasteful fashion. Useless as protection, but aesthetically pleasing. Isidore kept his mouth from falling open like a punk in the throes of hormonally-driven attraction, however, and nodded at her.

"You look good," he said, unbuckling the rapier from his belt and offering it to her. "This will complete the look."

Retrospectively, Isidore may have done well to save some of his dinner for Octavia to enjoy as well, but surely if Augusta could afford a dress, she could've afforded a meal for their pet as well. He gave the demonic dog a scratch behind the ears instead, before following in Sorcha's footsteps, settling into the posture he always used when in a meeting with professionals: back straight, eyes forward, shoulders back, and movements deliberate. The Queen of the Urutha, no matter how influential, was not his queen.

Her palace room still gave him pause though.

A waterfall that created a pseudo-moat around the room, and a throne cut from a massive mushroom that exuded enough of a ghostly radiance to light up the room all by itself? In a past life, this would have been childishly gaudy, the fantasy of an immature dreamer, but here, it only reflected the otherworldly prestige of the palace's owner, Queen Vasserasa No-Last-Name. An Urutha different from the others he'd seen, affected perhaps by the demon that served as Gloomhaven's guardian so many years back. Her dress was understated and elegant, her arms slim but solid. Her countenance was a mask, the same mask that so many other people of influence had learned to perfect, yet worn so naturally that Isidore wouldn't have been surprised if it was simply her natural face. And her crown...

Her crown was silver.

Isidore narrowed his eyes, ever so slightly, but relaxed just as swiftly. Sorcha being constantly referred to as the Storm Bearer was something worth keeping in mind. Not so different from being referred to as the Undertaker or the Midnight Man, really. A title, manifested from a reputation potent enough to reach across nations, in a world without global media. Impressive.

Perhaps he'll make an impression as well.

"Call me Isidore," the dark-haired man spoke, striding purposefully across the room towards Vasserasa. His gaze flickered briefly towards the male beside her, whether attendant, guard, or husband, lingering just long enough to show that he was seen, before settling back upon the queen's eyes. "Of those gathered here, I'm the least remarkable, but I thank you yet for the hospitality you extend. After such long travels, it is soothing to see such a pleasant city, no matter the gazes of its occupants."

He stopped at the stairs leading up to the throne, allowing the queen to keep her high ground, and extended one hand forward for a shake.

"And it's wonderful too, to have affirmed once more that this world full of great horrors will balance itself out with greater beauty."
In Cacophony Concord → 5 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
There was a strange sense of ‘belonging’ that Ames felt as he performed his soul-effacing art. For a brief moment, the warrior-animist could see his aura seep into his shield, the object filling with that same spiritual light while his own dimmed slightly. At the end of it, the shield moved, not like an object that he manipulated with his mind, but rather as a part of his own body. Phantasmal flames surged over it afterwards, casting a ghostly light to their surroundings, and with a flick of his mind, the shield went out into the dark.

Magpie, in a 500,000 IQ play, followed immediately afterwards. Certainly, a flaming shield was already going to destroy any attempts at the party stealthing, but the brawler had opted to go to the extreme opposite of ‘stealthing’ and began actively aggroing. Her claps echoed brightly through the massive cavern, and no matter how pissed Amulak was, it didn’t matter. The skittering, the slithering, the somethings within the space between the Ancient Blackened Tree took note, and as the shield hovered near Magpie, offering her a view of the hard stone around her, of the pools of tar and cursed energy that exuded with fumes noxious and intoxicating, the darkness that stretched around her became more pronounced as well. The whites of eyes glinted within firelight, black tendrils pushing against the light only to retract afterwards. It was becoming corporeal, what surrounded Magpie, and yet, nothing advanced.

There was no need to.

From the tar pool a mere ten meters away from the brawler stepped out a humanoid figure, their entire body covered in black mud. Dark red wisps rose from their form, and in their right hand was an axe, chipped and rusted with overuse.

Overhead, the roots groaned and creaked.
@Shovel@Searat@Psyker Landshark@OwO@Yankee

“Oh.” Bortz said.

“Oho.” Droko grinned.

The two of them shared a look, one smug and one knowing, before Bortz slapped Ari on the back with force that definitely would have killed her if not for the friendly fire mechanics in the party system. “I see, I see,” he laughed. “Love at first sight, eh? If she’s caught your eyes through promo pics alone, I bet you’ll literally propose to her once you see one of her arena fights!”

Droko pulled him away by his collar, the muscled shaman rolling her eyes in a good-natured way. “Thought you were more of the investigative news reporter type, but mm, you planning on doing some actual PVP too then, Ari? Wouldn’t say that Hanabi’s like, the best role model for you, considering how many extra limbs she’s got going for her, but that’s admirable.”

“Yeah, San-Li’s The Art’s more of that pure skill no gimmick deal, least from what I’ve seen,” Bortz chimed in. “But also, there’s been people saying that he plays in aut-”

“He does not play on auto mode,” Droko hissed, kicking him in the knee. “He practices in auto mode, and then copies those movements in manual as a way of sharpening his movements. Big difference.”

“See that? Best to keep your eyes set on little miss Flamebringer; least with her fanbase, you’re not liable to get bullied for cordially discussing rumors.”

“Please. That’s still better than what you get into with those Hololivers,” Droko huffed, before turning her attention back on the catgirl. “Guessing those moves you pulled off in that fight was manual too, Ari?”
@GreenGoat
In Cacophony Concord → 5 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
If not for the ability to check the clock through menu screen, it would have been impossible to figure out just how much time elapsed as the party laid against the cool, damp walls of the tunnel, allowing the small stream that trickled down into the hot depths to whisk away the last remnants of the heat. That sense of physical fatigue disappeared soon enough, but no matter how long they waited, a desire for a good, cold drink remained. It was never bad enough that it felt like they were going to die from thirst, but the sandiness of their mouths caused sticky saliva to build up, and even simply speaking aloud became an unpleasant task.

Before their bodies could be chilled too much by the cool drafts and the trickling stream, the party got up and were on the move again, settling into the same marching order as before. Through a combination of ambivalence and a hatred for water levels, they’ve decided to head into a different sort of depths compared to the hellishly hot one they had previously spelunked into. Beneath the Ancient Blackened Tree was their goal, and with trepidation in their hearts, they all advanced into the unknown.

For these pilgrims though, the Blasphemed Tunnels welcomed them with open arms.

What ghosts and ghouls they encountered skittered away, dark shadows flickering at the very edge of their vision. What monstrosities lurked within caverns paid them no head, some impossible instinct reading the intents of the motley crew of Immortals. Only the basest of creatures attacked, but those were dispatched easily, too weak to be of note. And with Amulak’s instructions, they travelled further and further into the spiralling tunnels, into the dark dreams of a sleeping god, until light seemed like a myth, until the cardinal directions seemed like hoaxes.

And once the path finally became flat, Ames could feel it.

A nerve-rending sensation. As if his flesh was being pulled off his bones, wishing to get as far away as possible from what they were approaching. It was a profanity that disgusted him to a biological level, one that he was mentally incapable of understanding. No one else seemed to be affected by this; Amulak even seemed at home here. But the sensation remained, spreading like a poison through virtual veins. His body was still his own. He could still move it as he wished. By his will, Ames could enter the cavern. He certainly could.

Thankfully, the party did not charge in yet. Hiding behind an outcropping of rocks, they did what they could do observe instead. None of the bioluminescent moss that had lit the way before was here now, but even without light, they could see the roots of the profane tree spreading out from above, a mass of dark purples crawling down from the pitch-black ceiling. The cavern itself must have been enormous, empty, curved walls echoing the drip-drop of something falling into the pools that Amulak had spoke of, but that no one could see. All the cold from the tunnels seemed to be converging here, the small breeze at the back of the party urging them forward, inwards. A light hissing sound could be heard as well. The breathing of a great being? Something dragging itself against the ground? The whispers of snakes? The longer the party waited, the more their hearing sharpened, and the more sounds they could pick up. Vestiges of laughter, instances of whimpers. Rasping nails against stone, heartbeats pressed against bone.

Only if they advanced, would they give a sense of reality to what their imaginations painted for them.

But in such darkness, the terrain would be undoubtedly dangerous. Those pools of tar, of dark energies, of the sap of a profane tree, could still not be seen, after all.
@Shovel@Searat@Psyker Landshark@OwO@Yankee


“Oh, huh,” Bortz said, surprised in a manner that sounded almost disappointed, “that sounds sorta…”

“Like the most balanced shit I’ve heard so far,” Droko finished, patting Ari on the back. “No worries though, I’m sure it’ll get better in future stages.”

“Yeah,” the steelbound warrior nodded. “You’ll probably get some Cyclops eye beams next. No idea how the cows came at us though. Maybe it’s just what they do? With their whole invisibility and breath attack gimmick.”

It made sense in a way. The gyuki, with their ability to remain invisible even during their first attack, could probably have devastated unprepared caravans with blasts of ice and poison, scattering and blinding whatever escorts were around, before closing in with their physical might to crush what opposition remained. The path itself, despite being less travelled, still bordered the Thunderstruck Grove though. Perhaps that was why it was less travelled?

But in that case, why would a path populated with such creatures be preferrable to busier paths that bandits may plot their ambushes around?

“Nah,” Droko scoffed. “I know exactly what attracted them here. Fucking Vator. Dude’s got the most bullshit out of all of us here, and he still insists on bringing them to us.” She massaged the side of her neck with a meaty hand. “Roadside encounters aren’t all that uncommon in general. It’s still a game, after all. If you don’t get attacked while travelling from one city to another, how are you even supposed to level grind?” It was a rhetorical question, and the shaman got closer to Ari, her eyes following the parabolic arcs of the knives that she juggled.

“Real talk though, why do you keep doing that? Some sorta class requirement?”
@GreenGoat

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