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1 day ago
Current K/DA Gragas when
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1 mo ago
I would like this as well.
2 mos ago
2 mos ago
But what if capitalists are a sexual construct?
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2 mos ago
Eyyyyyy, happens to be my birthday today too! Just turned 20!


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"You've been quiet, Kid. Relatively speaking, what's rattling in that head of yours?"

"Not much at the moment, just reflecting on some rather fond memories." Titus responded warmly to the voidsman, a cheery smile wide on his lips. The boy took another long sip of his coffee, "Say Stukov, you don't suppose this is to fatten us up before we're thrown to the wolves do you?" the scribe chuckled lightly at his own joke as he emptied his glass. From what Titus could tell, Stukov was the closest thing here to a 'normal' person among the retinue, and was likely the only one other than the Celestian herself that the young scribe would feel comfortable trusting. Overall, the rest of the facility seemed both well-equipped and lavish. Though the decorations were a bit over-the-top for Titus' tastes, it was certainly a welcome change to the drab uniformity of the voidship's many halls. "If I didn't know any better, I'd assume this was the residence of a rogue trader!" Titus quietly remarked to himself as the group entered a large corridor lined with strange artworks of exquisite quality. Despite the clear level of craftsmanship and artistry put into each work, some of these creations made the young scribe uneasy. They reminded him things best left forgotten and buried beneath the fog of time's passage and intentional repression.

"I think they look kind of nice. The artists had quite some creative souls."

For the briefest of moments, Titus heard a voice within his mind, its heinously sweet voice sending shivers of ecstasy down his spine. Yet as the sensation passed, the entity's hunger lingered a bit longer before fading into nothingness. The void left by the passing of these invasive sensations was promptly filled by Titus' own sense of overwhelming dread.

It had been months since he'd heard the whispers last. Disciplined management of his null collar was supposed to have negated them entirely. But even before the collar the whispers had never been this clear, this pronounced. Bile rose in his throat as the paranoia built, the walls seemingly closing in; every shadow a whisper of conspiracy-- something was here, and it was close. Cold sweat built on the boy's brow as he felt the world constricting around him. His head pivoted fearfully, franticly searching for where this abomination was hiding. Teeth grit, his heart pounded, his blood ran cold.

And then... Nothing.

The moment the retinue passed into the the room containing the statue of Saint Celestine, it was as if a colossal weight had been lifted from Titus's shoulders. Snapping back to reality, he immediately moved to adjust his collar, but stopping his hand midway to his neck. The last time he'd publicly adjusted his collar, Andromedai had scolded him heavily; and the last thing he wanted was to incur the sister's wrath atop this terrible omen. Rather, he opted to fidget with his sleeve instead; a hopeless attempt at distracting himself from his own fear. He payed little attention to the rest of the tour, his mind overtaken by the prospect of a malevolent entity having already invaded their foothold.

The moment the retinue was released to do as they pleased, the scribe opted to instead immediately retire to his room and lock the door behind him. When it was time to reconvene, Titus was the second of the retinue to arrive for the meeting. Whatever the young man had been doing; he now reeked of holy incense; his eyes red with exposure to the fumes. He took his place on one of the available couches, wordlessly staring at the floor as he awaited the meeting's start.


Don nodded in slight disappointment at Augusta's inability to gain more insight about the pin, other than the fact it was enchanted. "Well, thanks for tryin anyhow lass. If the lot've ya are movin' forward here, I might as well come with ya... Ain't no tellin what might be down there, n' tha last thing aye want is fer ya tah get yerselves killed." Carefully placing the pin back in his breast pocket, Don lagged behind the group for a moment, taking care to run his fingers across the runes carved into the door; memorizing as much of it as he could before hurrying after the others. Descending further into the darkness with the others, the small group passed into a large, dimly lit chamber. Between the sickening smell, the hallway of dead bodies leading up to here, and the fact that they were in the underbelly of an ancient PRISON-- a powerful sensation of dread seated itself in the pit of Don's stomach. Whatever was here; needed to be locked back up, or outright destroyed. Immediately acting upon his gut instinct, the large man readied his armaments and moved up alongside Isidore just as the other man happened to speak, "Way ahead uh yah lad, this place gives meh th' creeps."

Gritting his teeth, he moved forward cautiously beside Isidore and the strange dog. Don caught movement out of the corner of his eye, causing his head to pivot immediately to face whatever threat was coming; only to realize it was only Nick, just panicked as hell... and on the other side of a vine wall!!! "Steel yerself boy!" Don boomed in a stern, commanding tone as he turned forward once more. "Tha moment ya give in tah fear, is tha moment yer most vulnerable! There's others up topside! Find em' and get outta here! We'll find our own way out!"
someone should trip him


Jason nodded in a gesture of quiet appreciation as the bear of a man quickly put an end to the imminent danger presented by Mira and Gier.  Although Jason was very much interested in what Lear had to say about the medicinal prowess of this world's healers, that was the least of Jason's current worries. Unless they had forgotten about it in the heat of the moment, the group of humans had yet to address the fact that there had been an undead on the property-- and if the attitude toward undead was as poor as Jason suspected, it would be preferable to keep them in the dark about his 'condition'.  As it currently stood, his current level of coordination with this newly made body would likely be a dead giveaway at to his true nature. If possible, he wanted to delay having to disclose that information until he and Danny had had built some level of trust with farm's residents. As the old warrior spoke, Jason casually tested his range of motion, disguising his attempts as nothing more than some simple stretches.  Newly formed joints of cracked and popped as Jason went through basic motions. With any luck, the farmer would be to preoccupied to notice his movements for what they actually were.

A slight tinge of annoyance flared in Jason's chest as he quickly realized a glaring flaw in his new form.  Whether it was due to the body's hasty creation, available materials, or other factors-- Jason's left leg was shorter than his right.  In hope of finding a solution, the Rokklit consulted his skill list.
[Skill list here]
Seemingly, luck was on his side.  Both [Tremor Sense] and [Lesser Shapeshift] were at (0.9).  This left him two options: find another stone to attach to his body, or try to reshape himself with what he already had.

Jason elected to do a bit of both.

Focusing his power, Jason sent a singular pulse of magic into the ground, intent on locating a suitable addition to his body for later, before reactivating [Earth Vein] to continue regenerating his mana.  Unfortunately, before to could attempt to shift around some of the stones Lear seemed to finish his lecture on this world's medicine, and now crouched down in front of him and Miiba.  The deal he offered was increadibly generous for the circumstances under which they'd met, and spoke volumes about how strong the old soldier must've been to feel comfortable extending such an offer.  Despite the fact that the large man's added threat provoked a slight chuckle from Jason, the reincarnate took the threat quite seriously, and doubted the demon war veteran would need more than an especially strong flick to dispose of either Danny or himself.  If Lear wanted them to swear to the presented terms in any way they knew, Jason would do him one better; he'd swear in a way Lear did know.

Pressing his hands together in a gesture of prayer, and making a slight bow, Jason activated [Guidence], "Onogoro as my witness, I swear that I shall do right by your family, and do no harm to humans."

With the massive farmer clearly knowing  much about both worlds, it was likely he'd recognize the deity's name, and hopefully be more open to giving up more information on the surrounding area and what exactly might lie beneath those western mountains. 

Standing straight once more, Jason listened to Lear's question, as well as Danny's response.  Turning slightly toward Danny, he nodded in agreement with the poltergeist's psychic message.  "I... Can't say I recall anything like that myself-- and of the ten or so others like us that I've met haven't mentioned anything like that."

Turning fully away from Lear, and toward his companion mimicking the farmer's gesture to come down from the coop. "Come on down Danny, we can retrieve our gear and try to get that wound treated before you bleed out."
Banned for inability to follow the train of thought.


Don knelt down to inspect the dead bodies littering their path, had the plants done this? Or had they been slain long before the plants had taken root?

The large man shifted uncomfortably as his hand rubbed his chin. Was it wise to continue further? Or would it lead them to certain doom? Whatever had been nesting down here, was meant to be kept here, trapped and hidden. Had that messy tangle out in the courtyard been a smaller chunk of this greater mass? Well-- it was hard to imagine it came from anywhere else. Moving forward, Don reached the door; running his fingers across the many fine grooves etched into it's ancient surface. It took less than a moment for Don to notice what lay outside the circle of protective sigils, a rather distinct design of two serpents on either side of the door sharing an orb in their fangs.

Don knew in the pit of his gut that this bore a connection to the pin he'd found. "Oi Augusta--" he called to the elf girl, as he produced the pin from his jacket, "Yer eyes tell ya anything about this?"

Holding the pin out for Augusta to examine, Don focused those energies once more-- attempting to make the pin glow just enough to be clearly visible in the darkness.

Titus quietly nodded in acknowledgement as he suppressed a frown at the Planetary Governor's response. Though he certainly understood the reasoning behind the man’s response, the young scribe was still disheartened over not having the chance to look for (and deal with) any potential information leaks in the Governor’s estate. Then, before Titus could think of another question; the meeting abruptly ended, and the entirety of the retinue was ushered out as quickly as they had been brought in, passing a small group of Skitarii rangers as they left. Titus eyed them with slight confusion as he passed them by, That's odd... the boy thought to himself as his eyes scanned the group of Mechanicus soldiers, Why would Skitarii be sent to meet with the Planetary Governor rather than a proper tech-priest?

After giving the fleeting thought a few moments of consideration, I'm sure there's good reason for it. I'm no expert on Mechanicus protocol after all.

Titus kept to himself during the ride over to the Inquisitorial safehouse. His mind preoccupied with soaking up the breathtaking sights the world had in store; even the low altitude storm the Typhon had flown through possessed a majesty all it’s own. Unfortunately for Titus, this moment of quiet appreciation for the world’s awe-inspiring beauty was promptly cut short by the blaring alarm of the ship’s proximity sensors. The boy’s heart leapt into his throat as he frantically braced for an impact that never came to pass. Even as seamless as the flight continued to be (despite the frequent proximity warnings) Titus didn’t dare drop his guard for a moment, for fear they might strike something at any moment. The moment he stepped from the ship onto the landing pad, the young scribe breathed a heavy sigh of relief, ”I’m certainly glad that’s over...” he muttered to himself as his nerves steadied. Exiting the decontamination room doors, Titus found himself rather pleasantly surprised to find the first room of the safehouse was far different from what he’d pictured. Rather than something like a bunker ripped straight from the imperial guard and painted with silver trim, this was more akin to the abode of a noble. Even more surprising, was that another Inquisition agent had not only been waiting there for the retinue’s arrival-- but cooked them a meal as well!

”It’s a pleasure to meet you Celestian Aviza, and thank you so much for this incredible meal!” Titus thanked the sister enthusiastically with a polite bow as she brought them to the kitchen. His mouth watered in anticipation as he held the sandwich in his hands. The pain of going months on end of living off naught but generic Naval rations was washed away in a single bite.

The emperor has truly blessed this one with skills befitting of a devoted servant!

Wasting no time, Titus dug into his meal with a vengeance-- even going so far as initially forgetting to order a drink. About four bites in, the young scribe looked up from his plate, casually looking about the room as if expecting something, only for his brow to furrow quizzically. His eyes fell upon the tech priestess as he slowly chewed the bite he’d just taken. Was she toying with him? She did; after all, label him as ‘Prank Victim 3’. Before he could swallow and ask her himself, a certain remark about ‘Stoic Tannan suffering’ caused him to nearly choke on his food as he laughed. A fellow Scribe (who happened to be Vostroyan) back on the ship had gotten him to try it once, and it had taken Titus days to get that horrific taste out of his mouth. Needless to say, Titus was not keen on giving the heinous beverage a second try.

”If you wouldn’t mind Celestian Aviza, I too would like a cup of coffee.” the Scribe requested in a hoarse voice as he cleared his throat.

Upon receiving his drink, Titus a long whiff of the steam rising from the cup. It had clearly been brewed from freshly ground beans, and ones of the highest quality at that. It was no wonder the Tech Priestess had ordered this rather than a cup of lubricant and motor oil, the aroma alone proved the pristine quality of this brew! Titus took a slow sip of his coffee, relishing the fact he for once got to drink coffee that wasn't made from the powdered shit they provided back on the ship. Even the ship he’d served upon before he’d been transferred over to The Empherian allowed very few opportunities to be graced with coffee this good. In fact… Titus likely hadn’t had a cup like this since he first joined the Inquisition itself.

A realization suddenly clicked inside Titus’ head as a touched smile spread across his face.

Seems that crazy old bastard still has some faith in me after all …


Don grunted heavily as he slammed his shield into the lunging creature; the abomination's nose breaking as the large man shoved it back. Not a moment later than the creature stumbling-- did the man that Don blocked for immediately descend with a swing of his blade, striking a killing blow. As the man pulled his his blade from the corpse of whatever that thing was, Don looked down at the ravaged bodies of the slain. Though he nodded in acknowledgement of what this 'Isidore' was saying, he did not respond, as his mind was focused on what had just occurred. There was no feeling of satisfaction, no accomplishment, no begrudging relief that these horrific things had been put down.... Just pity. Whatever these things were, they seemed to have been people once; grotesquely twisted into deformed reflections of what they once were. Those poor souls were probably just in pain, lashing out at anything their ruined minds felt might be responsible. At least now they'd be free of their suffering.

"Poor bastards..." Don muttered, "Can't even give em a proper burial."

Thankfully, Nick's jovial greeting helped Donovan to shake the thought from his head. "Well if this ere's a prison, aye'd hope ah don't come ere often!" the man responded with a boisterous laugh as his hand clapped Nick's shoulder, "Tha name's-" Before Don could continue, the pointy-eared girl wearing a large dress cut him off.

Don paused, eyebrows raised in slight confusion. How did she know his name? How did she know his gift? Did it have something to do with her own gift? Before he could open his mouth to ask such questions, 'Augusta' admitted as much; revealing her gift to be related to that briefly glowing eye of hers.

Since it seemed like introductions had already been more or less handled, Don now had a decision on his hands-- was he to to join this little group in their exploration? Or should he instead try to help the others escape the guardian? For a brief moment, Donovan rubbed his chin in focused contemplation. As much as he wanted to help the others, the guardian outside seemed much more focused on simply blocking the exit rather than chasing down the first target it saw. Trying to get back in that debacle would more then likely just put all of them at risk, if not outright make the situation worse. "Well," Don spoke, nodding to himself with conclusion as he drew the warhammer from his belt, "Might as well join ya. Could be somethin' down ere that could elp' everyone get outta ere' safeleh. Plus you lot seem like ya might appreciate a wee bit o' extra manpower... Plus a shield ain't somethin that oughta be passed up in a place like this."

Shield at the ready and warhammer in hand, Donovan jogged to the front of the group, intending to help take point with Isidore.
playing catch up with college work-- i wont be able to post until the weekend at best
A middle-aged man with a shield charged forth and crashed into the wretched experiment, pinning it against the wall.


Don's body is early twenties....
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