Fallenreaper

Essence of the World: Flesh Reborn [Adv. Roleplay]

@Fallenreaper

Dont add to your workload on my behalf.

@ShwiggityShwah

It's alright, I'm currently getting to your character, but I'm also waiting for the others to weigh in when they get a chance.

Essence of the World: Flesh Reborn [Adv. Roleplay]

I like my character so much, I'm thinking about making a character thread and adding her for any Lovecraft I get. It seems like the RP hit a bit of a snag.

@ShwiggityShwah

More like RL caught up to us. I'm slowly getting caught up all my rps. XD

~Chrono Asylum: Devil's Plague

Xx---------------------------xX
Experimental Team
Xx---------------------------xX

Time: A month after the Incident at Ouroboros
Location: Innocence, the floating Airship Academy for ARMO’s Chosen

“I love you…” With those words, Elsa let go of his hand.

Her warmth left his fingers as he felt gravity pull him back over the dam’s wall, heading into the still water below. His alchemy helpless to stop gravity’s pull. The Iranian’s eyes widened in both fear and realization at her intentions. All he could do was take the scene in vivid details before it was lost to sight, the scene hyper slowed as if to mock him. Above it all a storm brewed. The dark cloud collected, heavy with rain about to become snow, to release its fury upon the place.

Elsa’s figure turned to the approaching rogues, their weapons drawn and ready. Her vision crackled with frozen ice across her skin causing her pink color to pale and her hair color to change, becoming pure white. Electrical blue eyes glared at them with an icy cold heart. Slowly her fingers spread wide then extended toward them before the silence shattered into crystal spikes.

Samad’s eyes jerked open to find himself in a murky, see-through liquid surrounded him. All the month old memories to flood back to him. Ouroboros. The explosion. A feeling of his body being ripped apart. He was in the fish tank recouping from his near death experience now.

Underneath the mask, his teeth gritted tightly and grounded a bit at the situation he had been assigned to. This shouldn’t have ever happened. His eyes closed as he sharply exhaled through his nose, feeling the tension curl back for the moment. It wouldn’t last. With any luck, they would be reassigned else and far from the Ante Mortem team for a good, long time. A loud hiss echoed through the water causing inside to drain, the bed slowly rotating into an upright position. After all the water drained, the lid popped open allowing him to step out.

Cautiously, he took an experimental step out onto the solid floor. It held barely. Samad applied weight to his outstretched leg as he followed with another, gradually standing outside of the fish tank. His figure was soaked, dressed in nothing but his boxer briefs, as he tried to collect his focus. His hand carefully pulled off the mask then let it hand behind him.

His head snapped toward the sounds of Olivia crumbling to her hands and knees. Her balance not yet recovered from the lengthy time in the tank. His was barely there if he was forced to be truthful. Samad only stood upright because of pure will and stubbornness born from his family. Wordless, he took a step toward his collection of clothing then began to dress. Ignoring the others.

Cade had a dreamless slumber in the tank.

Every few weeks, his eyes opened to a blurry vision of the world then fell right back into darkness. Nothing stirred in his head during all that time. No memories, nightmares or independent thoughts etched across his subconscious for the duration. At that moment… he was as close to brain dead as one could get without actually being it. The Innocence staff kept an eye on his vitals through there was no danger signs, his health perfectly acceptable for his state. It was as if he simply closed his mind down while he mended. Or too tired to think.

The peace was broken when the machine’s loud sounds caught his attention. His eyes flitted open and watched the water drain before the door popped open. The chill of the outside air licked his wet surface drawing up goosebumps. Gingerly, Cade stirred. He attempted to move out. His foot couldn’t support his weight as it crumbled underneath him. He collapsed onto the floor in a weaken heap, unable to fight the pull of gravity while he landed on his side.

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath.

Painfully slowly he began to push himself upright, his legs curled underneath. Samad seemed unfazed by Cade’s abrupt fall as he continued to place on his clothes. Afterward, his arm reached out for his cane then snatched up Cade’s clothing. On his walk by, he tossed them over Cade’s slowly rising figure.

“Get up, Cade. Get dressed, she’s likely waiting for news about your condition,” Samad said coldly before he started to head out the door.

At the mention of ‘she,’ Cade smiled slightly. Mostly because she was alive as he began to hasten his pace, clutching his stuff to his waist and giving himself some modesty. It wasn’t easy since he was in nothing but boxers right now.

Samhain Intrigues

Post up and heading your way, @Belle

Samhain Intrigues

Noah Griffin

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When Noah finished up lathering, he edged into the deeper water. Slowly he began to submerge himself, the anxiety filling him up as the level drifted past his waist. It crept to his torso then finally reached his head, pulling him horizontally underneath the liquid. Grim peeled off his muscles, their taint drifted upward and trapped within the colored bubbles. His closed eyes gradually opened toward the surface. A watery, shimmering window to the air above. It hypnotically kept his attention while the water weighed him down into its shallow depths.

For the moment, the pressure and sense of tranquility filled him. His heart thumped loudly in the watery environment, filling his ears then his head. Seconds passed into minutes before his instincts decided it was time to get out. Impulsively he lifted upright and began to edge to the pool’s side where he planted his hands upon the border. He lifted himself out causing the water to cascade off him. Noah’s feet moved across the smooth stone toward the local bench where both the sprite and a fresh, clean pair of clothes were situated.

Again, a frown pressed to his lips as he reached for the ‘shirt’ on top. He pulled the sleeves wide to examine it, taking in any markings or oddness to it before he considered placing it on. If anything felt off, he wasn’t intending to risk his life by wearing. He didn’t trust anything in this world. Especially when it was given freely. If he found nothing wrong, he began to get dressed then exited the room. He paused just outside the bathing room to catch the music floating through the air. Curiosity pulled him toward it instead of his earlier decision to retreat back to his room.

Formaroth Part 2: Throne of Lies

Dyril

Collab with @Sundered Echo

Location: Winter Haven Inn
Time: Morning, a week after the riots.

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The Winter Haven Inn was a very well off Inn. Ideally located on the edge of the Garden District of Nyhem, it saw customers from both the nobility and the masses of lesser people and travelers of the great city. Thanks to its wealth, it was well guarded by both the City Guard and, often, its clientele. And because of this, it had been lucky enough to avoid any damage from the terrible riots that had rocked the city a week ago. As horrific as they had been, its proprietor, Marius Rothemor, was rather thankful for them. Many other Inns had been damaged or wiped off the map by fire or crazed lunatic, and their loss was his gain.

Not since the deposing of the Mad King had he seen such good business. And with that business had come information…

Dyril’s head was bent down. Her four fingers rubbed her temple as she read through the letter for what felt like the hundredth time. Each calligraphic letter made one thing absolutely clear: she requested more time in Formaroth. It all came with valid points, but most were elaborated with additional details about selling magic wares to the High King and the profit they might make. She purposely left out the attempt to grow mandrakes within Formaroth purely because she suspected they would try to sabotage it.

Relaxing from the weight being lifted, her back leaned against the chair. She then raised her arm to summon a waitress and order something to eat. Dyril slid the letter to the table’s side closest to her before puzzling out her next action: where would be the best place to grow the mandrakes. Being a foreign element in the continent gave her sparse knowledge about, even possibly outdated.

Marius had been watching his most unusual client ever since she arrived. It wasn’t every day he could claim to have served an Elf, much less a half-elf. She had seemed stressed and busy at first, and so he had not interrupted, but when the women finally deigned to summon one of his people, he took the chance to go and have a chat as well.

It was not uncommon, in this particular Inn, to see the proprietor at a table with his customers, talking merrily, sometimes softly, sometimes boisterous and loud, drink in hand. (Though the keen eyed observer would note that the one drink always lasted the whole night). And so it was, that he siddled out from behind the bar, and as the waitress left with the Elf’s order, he sat down across from her.

He held out his hand in greeting, politely beginning to speak as he did so. “Miss Dyril. A pleasure to meet you at last. I am Marius Rothemor, owner and proprietor of this Inn.”

Dyril’s posture stiffened abruptly when she spied movement from the corner of her vision. Her head turned to identify the owner then all her rising tension evaporated immediately. The riots had shown there was a xenophobia among a few of the city residents. This was enough to put her on high alert and expect any attempts on her life. Thankfully none had happened since the riot a week ago.

Softly exhaling, her lips curled into a natural smile. She was pleased that it was merely a curious individual rather than a thug intending on beating her to a bloody pulp.

“Hello,” She began, a little cautiously. An idea flickered into her head then as she began the digging for information.

“I’m a bit surprised you know my name. Most individuals usually ask it, but you got it right and even pronounce it correctly. That’s an interesting little trick.”

“Oh, I am just a humble Innkeeper.” Marius said in a well practiced way that would fool no-one used to courtly tones. “It was difficult not to hear the name of the Cities one and only Elf. My apologies if I acted too familiar. I only seek to show that this great City can be welcoming and pleasant, despite recent events.”

“I will admit, my first time in Formaroth was… unexpected. It is one I rather not repeat any time in the far future,” Dyril casually took a sip of her tea and cringed at the surprise bitterness dancing upon her taste buds. She struggled back a cough as she set it back down.

“It seems a lot is different here in Formaroth than Beilokias. The tea is more bitter than I expected,” Dyril chuckled to hide the roughness in her throat over the discovery. The half-elf continued on, she decided to ask him for assistance.

“Just another thing that wasn’t in the Elven library back at Norastir.”

“The cuisine of this land can be something of an acquired taste, it is true. Thankfully, I know of a little shop that sells several Beilokias native ingredients, if you’d prefer not to risk your taste buds every night.” He said with a smile, procuring a small folded map of the city from inside his waistcoat. He proceeded to point it out and give a few directions.

Dyril naturally leaned in. She knew that Kiseo would need direction to fetch them in the future, possibly even finding something suitable for the Mao’s tastes too. After memorizing the paths, she settled back into the chair then continued the conversation.

“You seem to know a lot about the city, were you born and raised here?” Dyril asked, trying to confirm her suspicions.

“Guilty as charged.” Marius mockingly bowed. “I have seen much in Nyhem, and Nyhem has seen much herself. I don't know if you have such a place across the ocean, but Nyhem is the heart of Formaroth. Everyone and everything worth knowing eventually arrives here, and if I have not spoken to them, I have spoken to their friends or family. For all its flaws, there is no place in the world quite like Nyhem.” Marius’s pride and love of his city came through in his voice strongly.

“We have many actually, but inland is where most of our more important individuals chose to gather. So in a few ways, Nyhem is as you put it is rather unique,” Dyril agreed while she considered her job had just became much easier.

“Any well known individuals able to move large quantities of goods for a negotiable price? Preferably those who take pride in their job rather than become careless over it.”

“By sea or by land?” Marius asked, before answering both possibilities anyway. “There is a Merchant Lord by the name of William Flin who might provide the services of his fleet for coin, though my dear, if you have any of those mighty Elven Caravels, you need not waste time on local ships. Mind you, the seas are far safer in this time of uncertainty. The war may be over now, but the church is split in two and bandits rule the lands. I’d suggest you find some mercenaries, or perhaps persuade a King to lend you some troops, if you need to transport valuables by land.”

“Getting Elven ships to travel outside Beilokias is much harder than one might imagine,” Dyril bitterly noted.

She was pretty much the runt in the litter when it came to any of her relatives, especially when every single one was untarnished by human blood. She sighed a bit then decided on the mainland method because of the mandrake requirements to grow.

“How would I be able to get a hold of this William Flin? Is there a common place he visits or found that I could find him?”

“I’m sure.” Marius said knowingly. “But don't underestimate how much of an impact even one or two can make here, even crewed by us lowly humans. One Caravel might be nothing to you in Beilokias my dear lady, but its a King's ransom here in Formaroth. Or at least a Princes.” He laughed, then proceeded to point to some more spots on the map. “Rumor has it Mister Flin will be relocating to Nyhem from Akki very soon, and you’ll find him at these spots if he still follows his old habits.”

“But if you feel the need to buy a few local ships for yourself, I’ve heard that a Grand Tide Master from the Summer Isles has just landed at the docks not two days ago. Make nice with her and you might get a good price on some captured pirate ships.”

“What might be her name?” Dyril inquired while she wrote down the information on another slip of paper.

“Oh my. My dear you’ve caught me in a rare moment of ignorance. I know she is the daughter of Grand Tide Master Arthur Zerrikan, so your best approach will be to look for one Lady Zerrikan. Naturally though, it will be easy to find her. The most exotic ship in the harbor will belong to her, and i’m sure her crew will be willing to help a seafarer such as yourself.”

“My last experience on the sea was a fairly good one with the unfortunate case of a pirate who took down our escort ship. It was a terrible ordeal to witness as they set the ship on fire, burning it and the crew alive,” Dyril shivered at the memory then pushed it aside for a better focus.

She wrote the name beside Flin’s locations.

Marius shuddered as his guest recounted her experiences. Fire consuming a ship was a terrible and often very final thing. “My condolences. With any luck, the Blackwells will see to the securing of the Oceanic coasts now that the war is over. At least the inland seas are quite safe.”

“I hope so, or getting additional goods from Beilokias will be difficult, if not impossible.”

Dyril finished writing out her notes then decided to address one final thing, the most important tidbit. Her hands folded back on the table while she spoke again.

“Where would I be able to find information about Formaroth’s various environments? I’m intending to set up a production for a rare and sensitive crop that needs the right conditions. In order to determine where, I need records over rainfall and other conditions.”

“Oh, well, that is hardly my specialty…” Marius said, a little dejected, before perking up. “But I can tell you who might know. That kind of record keeping on paper is definitely the area of the Circle of Magic. If you’re lucky, the farming focused Noble Houses might have records of their own land, but you’d certainly have to cut them in on the profits when you sell whatever you might grow on their lands. There I go assuming again… You do plan to sell this crop don't you?”

“Some might be sold, yes. Others will be more ingredients in the manufacturing of specialized goods, something they might be interested in since it aligns with their focus,” Dyril said, feeling she hinted too much to the nature of her request.

“Ah. Well, the ones most likely to be able to fulfil all of your requests are the Kings. His Majesty Alasdair is the local one, but he has been… embattled of late. I’m sure he’ll bring the land out of this mess eventually, but swapping from advisor to High King and having a war and a religious schism in the first year of your rule… well it’ll either look really good in the history books, or it’ll be, shall we say, a very short entry for the scholars to study. Eli Blackwell on the other hand, is an ambitious upstart. A very rich one at that. I’d wager we’ll be seeing him in Nyhem soon. He isn’t going to get very far politically if he hides away in Mercy. The Blackwells are a bit different. They respect skill, not prior titles. If you’ve expertise to demonstrate in any field, he might be willing to help you out. Just remember, it's a land of opportunity out there right now. The really powerful Kings have barely been in power longer than you’ve been in the country.”

He paused there, then lowered his voice. “Oh and one other thing. Careful of the religious types. The church leaders may all be filthy rich, but they are even more petty and likely to stab you in the back, or the front, than the nobles. You didn’t hear that from me.”

“I think I’ve gotten a good glimpse of the church’s opinion over magic and things related to it. I do aim to avoid them purely for self preservation,” Dyril tried to lightly chuckle, but the sound made it obvious her heart wasn’t in the performance.

Again, her quill went to paper to write down the information and possibly list her options. She wanted to avoid being tied to one individual source of income because one thing she did learn from her Uncle was that limitations often spelt terrible consequences. Especially when the funding individuals felt they could control the production purely by withholding their support. Not eager to brave that storm, she polite thanked Rothemor.

“One last thing, for the moment. I need to ship this off to Beilokias. Is there any trustworthy ships or ways to get it there with the least risk?”

“I think I know a man.” He wrote a name on a slip of paper and handed it to Dyril. “This captain should be sailing for Beilokias in a few days with a sturdy ship. Tell him I sent you and he might take your letter at a discount.”

“I’ve solved several issues thanks to your information and for that, I’m grateful to you.” Dyril said as she began to collect her papers, stacking them up and ensuring she had it all.

“Happy to help.” Marius said, a glimmer in his eye. “There is plenty of greed and hate in the land, I like to do my bit to counter it out every now and then.” He stood then, nodding politely. “It was a pleasure to meet you in person.”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Location: Sherman Square

Time: Evening of the Satellite attack

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Racheli rolled her eyes under her mask. The molded steel shifted and moved with her facial expression as if it more flesh than a mask. Her figure adjusted upright again then stepped forward into visual range. Casually she made her way across the road, unhurried, toward the growing collection. Of course the boy scout would’ve heard me Rach thought bitterly when she discovered so soon.

Her eyes caught the Alchemyst stare a bit too long at her. Rach’s head turned, her words mumbled under her breath at the rude hero, “Why don’t you stare somewhere else…”

Though she spotted Fletch’s subtle hint, Racheli wasn’t sure what to make of it. All she could do was raise an eyebrow in Fletch’s direction and paused just around the group’s outer edges. She was aiming to be the last to enter the building when her ears caught the name ‘Puck’ from a new female’s voice. It caused Rach some confusion before she realized she had forgotten to shut off her hyper hearing, the conversation happening outside of normal earshot. A small, uncomfortable shiver ran along her spine before she brushed it off. Naturally, her curiosity zoomed into the conversation. When Charlie mentioned what boiled down to metas being unable to do shit, Racheli’s expression soured. The mask’s face began to twist causing the face to appear more pissed than ever.

Grumbling, Racheli changed her mind immediately. She moved toward the building when the new hero arrived and struck up a conversation with Alchemyst. The kid was seriously over his head but so was she, giving Rach little reason to say anything to him. Her hand touched the door just when a series of words anchored her in place.

”Hahahahahaha! This is what you believe will stimy these wretches?! Pathetic! All of them, weak! One of them is wearing pink! Do you plan to effeminate them to death?”

”At least we’re here to deal with a problem we all have in common. Not spouting off bitchy comments at the slight thing that we don’t like,” Fletch shot back at the mouthy kid.

The loud sound of metal being slightly bent and warped echoed from Nemesis’ grip, her magnetic powers flaring with her temper. Fletch would find it harder to push her motorcycle with Racheli standing in the way. Like some invisible force had placed itself around her figure, stopping any metal dead in its tracks. The harder Fletch pushed the more resistance she would find.

Without warning, Racheli twisted on her heel to face Pantheon. Her eyes glowed red as her vision was drowned in the color.

“You know, asshole, if you think we’re weak then why don’t you go off and save the fucking day by yourself. No one is making you stick around,” she snapped then pushed into the building. The door slammed open then cracked on impact, leaving the glass with a spiderwebbed surface. It slowly creaked back into place, now lopsided.

“And you can take your friend too since she doesn’t trust metas to get the job done.”

Samhain Intrigues

Well Elsa is just pissing everyone off isn’t she? Lol guess she’ll just have to wing it from now on to avoid annoying people.

@Belle

She hasn't pissed off Noah. :P

Samhain Intrigues

I wonder...

@Forett

Wondering doesn't get you far, questions do! :P

Essence of the World: Flesh Reborn [Adv. Roleplay]

@ShwiggityShwahYour character sheet is on my to-do list tomorrow, after my eye appointment. I swear! I lost track of time and adjusting to a part-time job.