Lugubrious
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Player on the other side
STATUS: Now running: World of Light: The Tale of the Dark Itself 1 mo ago
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- Old Guild Username: Cavalier
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 8132 (1.80 / day)
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- Lugubrious 12 yrs ago
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Now running: World of Light: The Tale of the Dark Itself
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Calling out from Scatman's world
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Bio
Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.
Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.
Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.
Most Recent Posts
Dagnabbit, I just realized that I made an error in the compendium entry for the Blighted Men. Supposed to say 'western plains', rather than eastern. My bad.
I remain, as always. Pretty much every RP I have is slow right now, I guess it's just one of those things.
I'm fairly interested in this but I'm not sure I want to commit to it. I'll definitely be keeping an eye on it.
Nope, just been waiting for something to post about. Since Zubat's pretty much out of the fight, I figured there wasn't too much I could do.
So what's the deal here?
Almost three days since an IC post? Gah! I like this RP too much for it to die.
When addressed by Shaige, the unusual revenant remained silent and motionless but for a slight stir of its frayed raiment in the ethereal breeze. It simply watched and listened, both to the ghostly Keeper and the transformation of Ifrit. After Shaige had spoken, however, the specter dissolved into black particles, as if the attention momentarily given to it had been all that sustained its existence. The wraith wasn't gone, however; it had simply reduced itself to a form both non-corporeal and practically invisible, and in this form it approached the two intruders into the spirit world. All magic the revenant possessed went toward making itself as inconspicuous as possible, constantly adjusting to every new thing it encountered in order to remain undetected. Ultimately, this also meant that when Shaige waved a hand to pull himself and his new Construct back into the overworld, the revenant hitched a ride.
Entry back into the real world was both disorienting and painful. By the time the revenant had adjusted itself to the air, the light, the omnipresence of magic, and other such intricacies, Shaige and Ifrit were long gone. No clue remained to hint at which direction they had taken. This didn't phase the ghost, however, as the Keeper had no real use for it now that he had released it from the spirit world. Though the revenant had far more power tucked away than Shaige, it was inaccessible, and as was just demonstrated Shaige's magic could influence the wraith with ease, so seeking him out wasn't an option anyway.
Another idol quickly captured the revenant's interest. Far below lay the sanctified city of Paterdomus, and in front of it lay a field of death and chaos. Getting its bearings, the wraith steadily descended toward it, a shadow of intent.
Entry back into the real world was both disorienting and painful. By the time the revenant had adjusted itself to the air, the light, the omnipresence of magic, and other such intricacies, Shaige and Ifrit were long gone. No clue remained to hint at which direction they had taken. This didn't phase the ghost, however, as the Keeper had no real use for it now that he had released it from the spirit world. Though the revenant had far more power tucked away than Shaige, it was inaccessible, and as was just demonstrated Shaige's magic could influence the wraith with ease, so seeking him out wasn't an option anyway.
Another idol quickly captured the revenant's interest. Far below lay the sanctified city of Paterdomus, and in front of it lay a field of death and chaos. Getting its bearings, the wraith steadily descended toward it, a shadow of intent.
Hopefully my new post will give Baudrii a sense of direction, which you can use as a basis for next post or two, Kangusto.
Being inside the Compound of Eyes was like looking out through another being's perspective, except in this case, rather than a single image there were hundreds. The surface of the 'screens' resembled mirrors, but rather than silver protected by glass there were millions and millions of pigment cells glazed over by a transparent membrane, such as that found in an insect's wing. Attempting to focus one more than one was a dizzying prospect; there was so much constant movement that a broad view of the screens was not unlike a wild hallucination. Scutra and Baudrii had been kept waiting in this chamber for ten minutes now after being summoned by Clotho, and in that time they had been able to become acquainted with the experience of scrying. At least, Baudrii had; Scutra constantly fretted and twitched, uneasy and unable to stand still.
At last, the Swarm Keeper entered. She looked upon her two subordinates with masked distaste. Hardly the lieutenants of an invading army. Luckily, compensating for her lack of forces formed a substantial part of her plan. “Construct and Adjunct,” she began, pacing to stand between them and the chamber's anterior. “It is time we made our mark on the world, our first real conquest. Most conquerors would understandably start out small, raiding little villages and hamlets and the like before attempting to overrun the nearest city.” She crossed her arms. “I am not most conquerors. Even if my ambition were less, there are no smaller settlements to be had in this environment. For survival in the jungle, the humans of this region established a single bastion that swelled to vast proportions over the years. It is Virens of which I speak. Before ascending to my current state I lived there, and you were once one of them, Baudrii. We know the city well, but it is current surveillance that will give us the edge.”
Abruptly, she spun around, wings now facing her underlings. Before her stretched the wall of hexagonal screens, each relaying the field of vision of a single Macula. Roughly half of them were of her own Dungeon, but the other half were scattered throughout Virens. They perched on streetlights, awnings, and rooftops, hid beneath eaves and benches and in lumber piles, and generally infiltrated all of it. “Our first step to capturing Virens is the elimination of its supply lines. While in the city last night I obtained some information. At noon today a barge is scheduled to bring in a shipment of grain and other commodities from the plains to the north.” Her yellow gaze hardened on her imp construct. “Scutra, this is your chance to prove yourself as anything more than a bug-eyed brewer. Lead a party of imps to the Saploya river and have them barricade it with their webbing. Once it has gotten snared or otherwise stopped, you will board it with a squadron of Myrmidons, kill any aggressors, capture whoever is left, loot anything of value, then scuttle the boat. Understood?”
Though the imp construct deep both resentment toward his mistress and her new Adjunct, so much stronger and more capable than he merely by nature, his desire to please her won out. “Yes, mistress. I will depart immediately.” Suddenly filled with energy, he kept his word and barged out of the Compound of Eyes without hesitation. Earnestness was good—there was no time to lose. Still, Clotho suspected he would ultimately fail in his leadership role, and rather than lead the charge he could very well simply stand out of harm's way. She wasn't ignorant to his emotions, either; though cunning and savage like all imps, he was also treacherous and untrustworthy by nature. Once Scutra was out of earshot, she addressed Baudrii, who had been standing still and silent the whole time, a vast, gleaming paladin of chitin. “In the meantime I will send Antlions beneath Virens to undermine its structures, which I will then oversee. For this I do not need you, so I am sending you after Scutra's party. Should the whole operation go wrong, you are to intercede and destroy the boat. Then, kill Scutra. Flight should give you the drop on them both.” A razor-toothed grin flashed in the faint light cast from the screens. “I've grown bored of him. I can always appoint another brewmaster, one without the cowardice and weakness of imps. Maybe another human. After all, you turned out well. Take a Macula with you so I can see it all. Now get lost.”
A few minutes later, Clotho stood alone in front of a pit in the ground surrounding the King Tree. The area was totally shaded; before today, the sunlight penetrated the leaves of the great tree and dappled the earth below. Now, the dungeon's construction was nearly complete, and the tree was almost totally enveloped in it. Though the grand, elevated hive was glorious to behold, Clotho's current interest lay with the creatures that lived beneath the ground. With a keening cry she summoned the Antlions from their expansive underground tunnels. They now numbered almost two dozen, and more were spawning quickly thanks to her growth serum. She issued their orders and watched them go, moving slowly but unstoppably over the leaf litter like living tanks. Before long they would resort to tunneling beneath the surface rather than attempting to navigate the dense jungle above I, and in doing so would approach Virens undetected.
Afterward, Clotho paid a visit to the lair of the Myrmidons. There she effectively ended their predominant practice of remaining in the nest at the King Tree's base and only emerging when a threat appeared. From now on, they would patrol the entirety of the dungeon like proper soldiers. Until now they had been relying on the roots and tubules of the King Tree for nourishment, but she explained that they would find edible fungi throughout the tree to eat, which the imps had been cultivating in their spare time. With that settled, Clotho returned to the Compound of Eyes.
At last, the Swarm Keeper entered. She looked upon her two subordinates with masked distaste. Hardly the lieutenants of an invading army. Luckily, compensating for her lack of forces formed a substantial part of her plan. “Construct and Adjunct,” she began, pacing to stand between them and the chamber's anterior. “It is time we made our mark on the world, our first real conquest. Most conquerors would understandably start out small, raiding little villages and hamlets and the like before attempting to overrun the nearest city.” She crossed her arms. “I am not most conquerors. Even if my ambition were less, there are no smaller settlements to be had in this environment. For survival in the jungle, the humans of this region established a single bastion that swelled to vast proportions over the years. It is Virens of which I speak. Before ascending to my current state I lived there, and you were once one of them, Baudrii. We know the city well, but it is current surveillance that will give us the edge.”
Abruptly, she spun around, wings now facing her underlings. Before her stretched the wall of hexagonal screens, each relaying the field of vision of a single Macula. Roughly half of them were of her own Dungeon, but the other half were scattered throughout Virens. They perched on streetlights, awnings, and rooftops, hid beneath eaves and benches and in lumber piles, and generally infiltrated all of it. “Our first step to capturing Virens is the elimination of its supply lines. While in the city last night I obtained some information. At noon today a barge is scheduled to bring in a shipment of grain and other commodities from the plains to the north.” Her yellow gaze hardened on her imp construct. “Scutra, this is your chance to prove yourself as anything more than a bug-eyed brewer. Lead a party of imps to the Saploya river and have them barricade it with their webbing. Once it has gotten snared or otherwise stopped, you will board it with a squadron of Myrmidons, kill any aggressors, capture whoever is left, loot anything of value, then scuttle the boat. Understood?”
Though the imp construct deep both resentment toward his mistress and her new Adjunct, so much stronger and more capable than he merely by nature, his desire to please her won out. “Yes, mistress. I will depart immediately.” Suddenly filled with energy, he kept his word and barged out of the Compound of Eyes without hesitation. Earnestness was good—there was no time to lose. Still, Clotho suspected he would ultimately fail in his leadership role, and rather than lead the charge he could very well simply stand out of harm's way. She wasn't ignorant to his emotions, either; though cunning and savage like all imps, he was also treacherous and untrustworthy by nature. Once Scutra was out of earshot, she addressed Baudrii, who had been standing still and silent the whole time, a vast, gleaming paladin of chitin. “In the meantime I will send Antlions beneath Virens to undermine its structures, which I will then oversee. For this I do not need you, so I am sending you after Scutra's party. Should the whole operation go wrong, you are to intercede and destroy the boat. Then, kill Scutra. Flight should give you the drop on them both.” A razor-toothed grin flashed in the faint light cast from the screens. “I've grown bored of him. I can always appoint another brewmaster, one without the cowardice and weakness of imps. Maybe another human. After all, you turned out well. Take a Macula with you so I can see it all. Now get lost.”
A few minutes later, Clotho stood alone in front of a pit in the ground surrounding the King Tree. The area was totally shaded; before today, the sunlight penetrated the leaves of the great tree and dappled the earth below. Now, the dungeon's construction was nearly complete, and the tree was almost totally enveloped in it. Though the grand, elevated hive was glorious to behold, Clotho's current interest lay with the creatures that lived beneath the ground. With a keening cry she summoned the Antlions from their expansive underground tunnels. They now numbered almost two dozen, and more were spawning quickly thanks to her growth serum. She issued their orders and watched them go, moving slowly but unstoppably over the leaf litter like living tanks. Before long they would resort to tunneling beneath the surface rather than attempting to navigate the dense jungle above I, and in doing so would approach Virens undetected.
Afterward, Clotho paid a visit to the lair of the Myrmidons. There she effectively ended their predominant practice of remaining in the nest at the King Tree's base and only emerging when a threat appeared. From now on, they would patrol the entirety of the dungeon like proper soldiers. Until now they had been relying on the roots and tubules of the King Tree for nourishment, but she explained that they would find edible fungi throughout the tree to eat, which the imps had been cultivating in their spare time. With that settled, Clotho returned to the Compound of Eyes.
With an impatient shove, Ironclad pushed the main doors of the fortress open. Its well-oiled hinges didn't squeak at all, but all the same it groaned beneath the weight of the wood. Any normal human would have been unable to open it, but thought Ironclad wasn't renowned for his strength, such an obstacle was a piece of cake for him. Inside, his heavy metal frame clicked on the marble floor of the great hall. Though the wall sconces, blazing with white light, were ornate, and the draped banners eye-catching, the alter ego ignored them and strode straight through to a staircase. The ascent was tedious -it would be for any individual who weighed in at half a ton and had feet larger than the stairs on digitigrade legs- but before long Ironclad was on the battlements. Up here the wind sang through the carved stone, but it was a different beauty that the steel warrior had in mind.
One of his allies stood be the parapets, loosely holding an intricate bow. Her name was Quicksilver Seraph, though Ironclad called her Sera. She wore a festive dress, layered with regal garments, giving her the semblance of a queen. Beneath the majestic exterior was a gorgeous face, green-eyed, crowned by long purple hair tied in a huge braid. Though far from overweight, there was an enticing fullness and vitality to her figure. Most impactful, however, was her personality; Ironclad knew from experience that while she was generally compassionate and stately, she could also be playful with those she knew well and deadly with her enemies, as evidenced by how she dispatched the negative from afar. Of every alter ego he had ever encountered, this woman was the only one who truly held his respect, but there was something else as well. As Ironclad approached, she span around with a smile on her face. “My friend,” she sang, “I trust you are unhurt?”
“No negative can hurt me.”
Sera rolled her sparkling eyes. “There's the Ironclad I know. Tough, brash, untouchable...” She was closer now than she was a moment ago. Her hand was on Ironclad's shoulder, and the metal was not so cold. “Or are you? Good to see you again.” He waited a moment before lifting her hand off with uncharacteristic gentleness. “Likewise. Won't be long before Midwinter's Envoy arrives as well. Any news?” She shook her head. “Not really. I heard that Black Storm Barrage attempted to free poor String Master from the black lotus again. No effect.”
“Her persistence only belies her desperation,” remarked Ironclad callously. “And incompetence. If Black was a real protector she'd be able to help her friend. Not that String Master deserves it—her weakness and instability enabled this mess.”
“How could you, Ironclad?” Sera admonished him, “Those two are friends. You can't simply abandon people because they're weaker than you. The strong protect the weak, help them and fight for them when necessary. You and Envoy and I should be right alongside Black to help break String Master free.”
“The strong survive while the weak perish,” came the cold, impersonal retort. “Nothing is more natural than that.”
In response, Quicksilver Seraph's eyes began to burn with teal flame and she angrily crossed her arms beneath her chest. Before she could respond, whether with words or blue-green fire, there came an distant roar. Approximately a mile away and several hundred feet in the air, a huge, winged negative flew over the autumn forest. For a moment, both Ironclad and Sera were stunned by the size of the thing. In the silence that followed, the metal warrior was first to speak. “Engage?”
“No.” Her rage fading fast, Seraph bent forward, hands on the battlements, to get a better look at the monster. “Not yet, at least. Only one person could have attracted a negative that large on so glorious a day. Midwinter's Envoy is bringing company.”
-=-=-
The door to the King family apartment opened abruptly, and in walked a bedraggled man in cheap formal clothes. His hair, including his goatee, was just beginning to gray, and his fatigue was apparent on his face. “Anyone home?” Called Gregory King, Sr.
One of his allies stood be the parapets, loosely holding an intricate bow. Her name was Quicksilver Seraph, though Ironclad called her Sera. She wore a festive dress, layered with regal garments, giving her the semblance of a queen. Beneath the majestic exterior was a gorgeous face, green-eyed, crowned by long purple hair tied in a huge braid. Though far from overweight, there was an enticing fullness and vitality to her figure. Most impactful, however, was her personality; Ironclad knew from experience that while she was generally compassionate and stately, she could also be playful with those she knew well and deadly with her enemies, as evidenced by how she dispatched the negative from afar. Of every alter ego he had ever encountered, this woman was the only one who truly held his respect, but there was something else as well. As Ironclad approached, she span around with a smile on her face. “My friend,” she sang, “I trust you are unhurt?”
“No negative can hurt me.”
Sera rolled her sparkling eyes. “There's the Ironclad I know. Tough, brash, untouchable...” She was closer now than she was a moment ago. Her hand was on Ironclad's shoulder, and the metal was not so cold. “Or are you? Good to see you again.” He waited a moment before lifting her hand off with uncharacteristic gentleness. “Likewise. Won't be long before Midwinter's Envoy arrives as well. Any news?” She shook her head. “Not really. I heard that Black Storm Barrage attempted to free poor String Master from the black lotus again. No effect.”
“Her persistence only belies her desperation,” remarked Ironclad callously. “And incompetence. If Black was a real protector she'd be able to help her friend. Not that String Master deserves it—her weakness and instability enabled this mess.”
“How could you, Ironclad?” Sera admonished him, “Those two are friends. You can't simply abandon people because they're weaker than you. The strong protect the weak, help them and fight for them when necessary. You and Envoy and I should be right alongside Black to help break String Master free.”
“The strong survive while the weak perish,” came the cold, impersonal retort. “Nothing is more natural than that.”
In response, Quicksilver Seraph's eyes began to burn with teal flame and she angrily crossed her arms beneath her chest. Before she could respond, whether with words or blue-green fire, there came an distant roar. Approximately a mile away and several hundred feet in the air, a huge, winged negative flew over the autumn forest. For a moment, both Ironclad and Sera were stunned by the size of the thing. In the silence that followed, the metal warrior was first to speak. “Engage?”
“No.” Her rage fading fast, Seraph bent forward, hands on the battlements, to get a better look at the monster. “Not yet, at least. Only one person could have attracted a negative that large on so glorious a day. Midwinter's Envoy is bringing company.”
-=-=-
The door to the King family apartment opened abruptly, and in walked a bedraggled man in cheap formal clothes. His hair, including his goatee, was just beginning to gray, and his fatigue was apparent on his face. “Anyone home?” Called Gregory King, Sr.
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