LiLNasY

The Rise from the Ashes

I watched Elena and Isolde laughing, their voices bright against the dark forest. It was strange. Our home was smoke and ash, Meli’s family was in chains, and yet they were laughing at a joke made by a god. I couldn’t find any amusement in it.

But I was glad they could. It was good that they found comfort in the Fool, even now. The gold stag was impossibly wild and strange, which made me think of the Fool’s face known as the Wild. But the joke was clever, a trick, which was the work of the Jester. Maybe the gods are always all their faces at once, and we just picked one to help us understand.

I thought about Elena, Isolde, and Garrick. This wasn't the first time they had lost a home. They lost the palace, the center of the kingdom, the grand place I couldn't even remember since I wasn't yet one year old when we fled. Now they had lost the orchard too. I knew they were just trying to be brave.

Meli was silent, and I felt her fear. When I moved to start the fire, she finally spoke.

"Don't start a fire, Cad. It could lead them to us..."

She was right. I agreed immediately. I dropped the wood I was holding.

I moved closer to Meli and put my human arm around her shoulders. I hugged her gently from the side and leaned in to kiss the top of her head, being careful to avoid her horns.

"We won't make a fire. We'll get your family back, Meli. I promise."

I then turned back to Garrick, nodding as he finished speaking. So Adam never told them. He just believed I would "recognize it." That meant whatever it was, it was connected to me, to the Solarian line, or maybe to the egg.

"I understand, Garrick. It sounds like Adam left us a riddle, not a map."

I looked out into the deep darkness of the forest. We couldn't all sleep.

"We need to rest, but we can't risk sleeping unguarded. We will do two rounds of watch."

I picked up my sword and shielded arm.

"I will take the first watch. I need to think, anyway. Garrick, are you able to take the second? I will wake you up when it's time."

I moved to each of my companions,Elena, Isolde, Garrick, and Meli, giving each a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Goodnight, everyone. Try to rest."

OOC

If the night passes without incident (no encounters or checks needed), feel free to describe the watch change and the group waking up in the morning so we can get back on the path to Little Happens. During the watch shift, Cadmus would say something like, "If you hear anything wake me up, don't be a hero."

Where Wishes Fall (D&D 5e)

Garrek throws an arm out, gesturing with dramatic flourish toward the street. "This way, Kalila! Miller's got the best deals, and they’re tough! You won't be ruining these new clothes."

You step out of the back entrance of The Panther’s Rest with Garrek, clutching the mysterious bottle close. The morning air feels crisp and clean, a stark contrast to the stifling tension of the kitchen.

As you follow Garrek, your eyes instinctively scan the immediate area, searching for any sign of Vulture eyes. You don't see anyone obviously following you.

Garrek bounces on his toes, still clearly buzzing from the fight. "Seriously, that was incredible. That glowing light you shot? It was like the stars came down. You have to teach me how to do that sometime! I’ve tried throwing knives, but magic? That’s way cooler."

Your sharp gaze catches a detail that makes your blood run cold. Just a few feet from the doorway, tiny, dark drops of blood stain the cobblestones. They are faint, almost invisible against the stone, but your focus locks onto them. The trail leads away from the tavern, heading back down the path you took last night when you first stumbled in from the alley.

Garrek pulls you slightly ahead. "Miller’s isn't far. We’ll take the main road just like Aunt Gerta said. Did you even see Vane's face when you stabbed him? He was screaming!"

You are close enough to the main road to see a shop across the way. The forge chimney is already billowing smoke, and the heavy clang of iron on iron echoes faintly. Standing in the doorway is a massive, burly man with soot on his apron. He is currently holding a pipe and grimacing. A woman stands directly in his face, her hands on her hips, her voice too sharp and high to make out the exact words. You strain your ears and catch fragments of her loud complaints: "...how will you deliver the spikes if you're standing around smoking all day!?" The rest is lost in the morning noise.

Garrek nudges your arm gently. "Hey, did you even notice that weird bottle you're carrying? What is that thing? Is that where the magic lives? You know, the red glow when you cursed him? That was savage."

Just as you prepare to move fully onto the main thoroughfare, your gaze flicks upward one last time, checking the rooflines of The Panther’s Rest. For a fleeting instant, a shadow moves. It’s too quick to identify, but the sheer darkness of the shape is what unnerves you. It seems to absorb the sunlight, a smudge of absolute black against the bright blue sky. You can’t tell if it’s a trick of the light, your nerves, or something genuinely impossible, but it is gone as fast as it appeared.

---

"Come on, the market's just up here!" Garrek says, sounding eager to shop. "We can get you a proper working clothes. That dress is going to get torn to shreds!"

The Rise from the Ashes

I forgot to edit my previous post and posted a new one, I hate myself lol

The Rise from the Ashes

I heard Meli and the retainers talking as we rode through the night. The thought of the orchard burning behind us made my gut clench. I didn't need to look back to know it was gone. The smoke filled my imagination, choking the memories of home.

When we finally stopped at two in the morning, the silence felt heavy. I got off the horse and moved to start a small camp. I focused on practical things: clearing a patch of ground, gathering dry wood, and preparing for the night. My draconic hand worked quickly, stacking wood for a small fire that would give warmth but not too much smoke.

I couldn't stop thinking about what they said.

The statue. The old man with the crown of thorns. Isolde called him the Monarch. And the golden stag, the strange creature that led me to Meli. Garrick scoffed and mentioned the Fool.

The Monarch and the Fool.

It didn't make sense. Those were massive, important powers. Gods, maybe. They weren't supposed to visit some forgotten prince hiding in an orchard.

It couldn't be, I muttered, mostly to myself, as I knelt to start the fire.

But the thought stuck in my mind like a burr. I kept seeing the two images side-by-side: the calm, determined stone face of the Monarch, and the beautiful, wild stag that had saved Meli.

I remembered the voice in my dream: Resurrection? Or Destruction?

Could the dream have been a warning? Was the Monarch the one who offered Resurrection, a return to the old glory of House Solarian, but at a terrible price? Or would he bring Destruction, just like the Solarian kings before me? And the Fool, the wild guide, would he promise safety and peace, which could mean Destruction for the throne? Or would he lead me toward a kind of Resurrection I couldn't see yet?

I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion. It didn't matter right now. What mattered was Garrick.

I looked over at the old stable master, who would probably be tending to the horses.

Garrick, I said, my voice low. When we were talking about leaving the orchard, you stopped me. You said Adam found something years ago in the Forests of Vestarel. Something that could help Meli and me save the Moonpetal Gathering.

I paused and looked him in the eye. What did he find?

The Rise from the Ashes

Isolde shrugs and answers, “I’ve heard of stranger things back in my youth,”

@Guardian Angel Haruki

Edit: Ended up replying in the IC thread lol, I'll edit with my post

The Rise from the Ashes

X-tras: The B-Team Protocol (Marvel Multiverse Role-Playing Game)

X-tras: The B-Team Protocol (Marvel Multiverse Role-Playing Game)

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The Ask

Are you tired of saving the world? Are you looking to play the characters who are slightly awkward, maybe a bit clumsy, and definitely not the main event?

Welcome to X-tras, a game where you play the other young mutants, the ones who don't get the cool jet, the ones who get assigned to cleanup duty, and the ones who might just stumble into an accidental save.

We are looking for a small group of enthusiastic players ready to dive into a darker, more grounded, and lower-power take on the X-Men universe.

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The System

This game will use the Marvel Multiverse Role-Playing Game (MMRPG) system.

• Rulebook: The Core Rulebook PDF is available for download here: Marvel Multiverse RPG PDF

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The Setting: Jean Grey School for Higher Learning

This is an Alternate Universe grounded in the classic X-Men themes of fear, prejudice, and community.

• A New Name, An Old Home: The Jean Grey School for Higher Learning is the successor institution, operating out of the same facilities as the former Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. It serves as both a secret haven and a training facility.
• No Krakoa: Mutants remain largely hidden from the public eye. Though some governments and anti-mutant organizations are aware and actively hostile, the world has not fully accepted Homo Superior.
• Legacy of Loss: The age of the greatest heroes is over. Jean Grey died saving the world as the Dark Phoenix, a moment cemented in mutant memory as a heroic sacrifice. Charles Xavier is also deceased.
• Leadership: Dr. Hank McCoy (Beast) now serves as the Director, balancing the school's safety with his political obligations to the few allies they have.
• Your Role: You are new, low-ranking students at the school, navigating classes, awkward teen life, and the ever-present threat of human prejudice and mutant villains.

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Character Creation Rules

We are building a team of true beginners. Please note the following restrictions and modifications for this game:

1.  Age: All Player Characters (PCs) must be between 13 and 16 years old.
2.  Rank: All PCs must be Rank 1.
3.  Origin: You must select the Mutant Origin.
4.  Occupation: You must select the Student Occupation.
5.  Tags & Traits Modifications:
   

   
• Krakoan Tag: The Mutant Origin naturally grants the Krakoan Tag. In this AU, you do not have this Tag and are free to choose any other Tag that makes sense for your character's background or power (Tags are generally "free" and flexible).
• Quick Learner Trait: The Student Occupation provides the Quick Learner Trait. You may freely replace this Trait with another Trait of your choice, provided the new Trait meets any stated MMRPG requirements for replacement.

If you are having trouble creating a character concept or navigating the rules, please don't hesitate to reach out! I am happy to help with concepts, powers, and rules.

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Player & Posting Guidelines

To ensure a smooth and fun game for everyone, please be aware of these required guidelines:

• Age Requirement: All players must be 18 years of age or older, even if the Player Characters are minors.
• Posting Pace: We expect a minimum of 3 posts per week from each player to keep the story moving. If you need to step away for a period, please communicate this to the GM.
• Respect: Maintain a respectful and positive atmosphere in out-of-character (OOC) chats.
• Content Warning: The game content may explore adult and dark themes (violence, prejudice, difficult decisions).
• Romance Restriction: Since all PCs are minors (13-16), any romantic content will be kept strictly PG-13 maximum, focusing on crushes, hand-holding, and general teenage drama, not explicit situations.

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If you are interested in joining The X-tras and have read all the rules, please reply below.

To help us gauge interest and fit, feel free to fill out the optional form below:

Optional Interest Form

1. Posting Commitment:
Are you confident you can meet the minimum commitment of 3 posts per week? (Y/N):

2. Character Concept Idea:
(Provide a brief description of your character idea, including their name, age, and a summary of their mutant ability. Remember, they should be Rank 1, age 13-16, and an X-tra!):

3. Other Thoughts:
(Anything else you want to mention about your experience with MMRPG, PBP, or your general excitement for the setting?):

Drowned Gods (D&D 5e)

If you'd like to check you can approach the NPC and do an investigation or medicine check, both with advantage.

Di'Siveks: The Promethean Hound (A D&D 5E Game)

The focus in Flurry's eyes finally broke, and the tension left my shoulders. I looked down at him, then back up at Euphemia Gax.

"Miss Gax, please don't apologize," I said, speaking gently. "Your work is impressive. Flurry is... he is simply difficult to understand sometimes. I am the one who worried too much. Thank you for clarifying the magic."

I turned back to Lady Agnes, feeling slightly ashamed of my quick assumption of danger. "I apologize, Lady Agnes. I can become too focused when I lack an answer. I should not have worried you over such a minor thing."

I glanced toward the gazebo where my grandfather sat, checking the number of guests around him once more.

"I think we could both use a refreshment after that small excitement," I said, offering a polite smile. "I am going to get us both something to drink. Is there anything in particular you would prefer?"

I would wait for Lady Agnes’s response to my question, and then I would move to the nearest refreshment table with the goal of securing two drinks. If I succeeded and returned to her with the beverages, I would intend to invite her to join me in visiting my grandfather.

Drowned Gods (D&D 5e)

The rhyme hangs in the damp air, resonating against the stone walls. It seems to catch the very rhythm of the water dripping in the cavern. The panic that had seized Blibdoolpoolp vanishes instantly, replaced by a glazed, hypnotic look of adoration. He stops trembling. He straightens his rotting robes. The twitch in his eye ceases. Your performance has not just calmed him; it has rewired his anxiety into religious ecstasy.

"The words..." Blibdoolpoolp whispers, his voice trembling with awe. "You speak with the pulse of the tide, Great SHOOGBIMBHALD. The stillness... yes. We shall trust the stillness."

He turns to the chaotic mass of fish-folk behind him. He does not scream or flail. Instead, he raises his webbed hands with a newfound, eerie grace.

"Prepare the procession!" he commands, his voice echoing with dark authority. "Our God demands splendor. We shall give Him the march of the currents."

The Kuo-toa scramble to obey, smearing phosphorescent algae on their scales and lining up to form an honor guard of jagged spears. In the flurry of movement and bubbling chants, it is easy for Nyphl to slip away into the upper shadows of the cavern, just as you commanded.

You are ushered forward. The procession moves through the corridors, dragging you along in a tide of rhythmic slapping feet and low, thrumming hums. You pass beneath the broken arches, the "Great SHOOGBIMBHALD" carried toward judgment by the collective will of his flock.

Just before you reach the grand doors of the throne room, Nyphl returns. The flumph drifts down from the darkness to hover by your shoulder. There are no words—Nyphl seems to understand the need for discretion—but a powerful wave of emotion floods your telepathic link. It is a heavy, sinking feeling. A mix of profound pity and a sharp, stinging recognition. The flumph glows a soft, melancholy blue, projecting a mental image of a mirror that is cracked and dirty.

The doors groan open.

"BEHOLD!" Blibdoolpoolp intones, his voice booming. "HE COMES! THE LORD OF THE BLACK WATERS! THE KEEPER OF THE RHYME! SHOOGBIMBHALD!"

The throne room is vast and filled with the scent of salt and ancient stone. Your followers are already there, forming a wide circle around the foot of your throne. They part as you approach, bowing so low their noses touch the wet floor.

And there, in the center of the circle, is the intruder.

He lies in a heap on the cold stone, unconscious. His breathing is shallow, a ragged wheeze that speaks of rough treatment. He is a drow, a dark elf of the deep. But he is no warrior. He wears no armor of spiders or chain.

He wears silk.

Tattered, filthy, waterlogged silk. The fabric is sheer and impractical, dyed in garish colors that have since faded to mud. It is cut to expose skin, to titillate, to entertain. It is a costume.

He is a male drow. He is slight of build, lacking the hard muscle of a soldier. His white hair is matted with blood. His hands are bound behind his back with rough cord. He looks exactly as you did three months ago. He looks like a discarded toy.

The room falls silent save for the drow's ragged breathing. The Kuo-toa watch you, their eyes darting between their god and the broken thing on the floor.

Blibdoolpoolp steps forward. He gestures to the unconscious figure with a solemn gravity.

"The intruder awaits Your divine judgment, Great SHOOGBIMBHALD," the High Priest says softly. "He was found hiding in the rubble. He has no weapons. He has no fight. He is yours to command."