Lumiere

Trouble in Korthos

I'll probably post again just to spur on some dialogue. It's most likely not going to be a super long post, but I'll try to keep it at least interesting.

Trouble in Korthos

So, does rotation work in a way where it would now be my turn to post, or are we waiting for someone else?
:x

Trouble in Korthos

@Leo Khan
Androgyny is funny like that. 'He', probably, for simplicity, though its not outwardly apparent that they are, as far as IC goes...I mean, unless someone asks. *Shrug*

Trouble in Korthos

Just decided to fix a tiny bit of Luci's words so he actually introduced himself and is nearby the supposed collection of peoples.

Trouble in Korthos

Ah yes! A story you have not heard...hmm...a curious request. Lessons, ehm-stories, pardon, are often an...embellishment of...lessons! Yes, stories, and how they are told often convey such sentiments, but trust me child.

I vill do my best to teach you someszink...new.

Zehr vonce was a castle, built upside-down; eits taaallest tower?
There was only a momentary pause, a paper backdrop of a castle upon a pale blue sky with a tower reaching higher and higher towards the wooden frame of Luci's puppet stage before rattling as their tail released a string and the scene came rattling down.
-reache' fffaaaaahh underground~
The image of a castle was pulled up to the top of the wooden frame, still in view, as the 'tower' was pulled by a weight down and down until being the stage, Luci rapidly pulled a thick string and reeled the first frame up, yanking the castle away until it was merely the image of the inverse tower on a black backdrop.
A pale light shone in through pinholes, illuminated by the tiniest of whispers offered by the bard to construct a weak twinkling light akin to stars around the tower.
A lad, long wait to see their betrothed, an' a prince as their father would owe,
He would wait for a time, and more...as the princess prayed: their captor should snore~
A curl of the Tiefling's tail entered frame, adorned with a cap of folded and painted tin on hinges. The scaly black worm was creepily only barely noticeable upon the backdrop due to the myriad illusions of minor sort until an eye glinted in a carved socket of its 'head' and Luci pulled a string to open its maw. Out jetted a slow gout of flames in pace with its self, its ridges frilling and lighting with the same light.
A brave knight, a wizard, an archer and zee holier, more, all vith ample intent to settle a score...
The scene lowers enough, almost compacting a little for a tiny cutout of what looked like a figure in armor and one with a robe and insultingly cliché hat. Such so to follow the description, the next rolled up as if the puppeteer held the cutouts on sticks between their fingers. A green figure with a bow and angled hat and a white robed figure with a shield and mace in the shape of a cross.
A roar then rattled the ship and the motions stopped only briefly before the narration continued in haste.

"Triumphed and evil vahz vonce again no more!" Luciel chimed, retracting the bits and pulling the back cord to drop the tiny curtain. Their eyes darted as the small crowd of children that had grown 'aawwhhh'd and maybe a single adult boo'd, having not gathered the gravity of the situation. Audibly, air rushed past the ship to a degree that the vessel momentarily dipped. Luci clung to the strings with one hand and a post with the other, letting the mass of the small stage tip and crack as it impacted the floor. A tiny bit of Luciel died, watching the mechanisms and pulleys come dislodge and uncoil; their springs shooting reams of hand-painted backdrop over the floor before the main arch crunched into it.
Luciel coiled, containing his anguish from watching his work be crumpled so simply as he clung to a pillar. A few hyperventilating breaths as he smoothed the plating over his tail and belted it into place was all the preparation he needed before mustering the rage that drove him towards the stairs to the upper deck once the vessel righted itself.

It was a blur of mighty white as the scales of a grand beast met Luciel's eyes. Shamefully, he turned back the way he came even though they were unsure what to even do with what power they had. It was supposed to be a simple flight, so he was told. A beast of such magnitude was nothing like he'd imagined to see in person, but he owed the children an end to the story.

To the...

An end...

A story?
___________________________________________________________________

Luciel gasped awake, gurgling and wretching as they turned and then messily coughed up saltwater and heaved the contents of their last meal in the same motion. A soft sigh ended the exhalation before slowly inhaling, coughing briefly as being no stranger to hangover illness. This was something, different, however. A cold coil bound his insides to the point of paralyzing his limbs and he fell flat on a side, raising his arms up to grip the base of his horns while messily sobbing a few messy bouts and groaning as his probable injuries encroached on him.
"Jeets...*cough*...just..." Luciel began, slowly righting themselves. "I szink I vould bel-*coughing fit* Be-*cough*-lieve such szinks." The news of not finding any others alive wounded the bard deeply, but now was not the time to be of such sentiments. "I vahz an...entertainer, ouf sorts," he began, still a bit shellshocked and just responding as it was requested before bracing against a rock to stand. "N-novon? At all?" they asked, watching Jeets walk off before crumbling and finally taking a moment to turn and behold the remains of what once was The Wyndspire Falcon, dashed across the rocks.

Luciel looked away from the main mass, gripping the nearby rocks and dry-heaving for a moment and the rolling over. Finding themselves to still be within their immediately notable faculties, they briefly relaxed. Seeing no reason to seek out their set what was no doubt smashed to crap at this point based on last he'd seen it, the crates of garments were probably in similar discord.

It was, in all, a mess.

The tiefling merely held their head in their hands as they watched the carnage slowly be washed over by the waves of the tide. No mind was paid to the corpses, and if anything, for each one, they looked more towards the horizon, hoping not to see any they remembered. After a short while, they looked through their bag, taking note of its contents and patting themselves over with some quick mending to tidy up the tatters of their coat and make themselves a bit more presentable before making their way towards the others. Quietly waving their hand on the approach then resting it on their chest. "Ehm...h-hello," they shyly began, out of their element as meeting people while not in character(s) was a rarity in recent years, "Quite zee ride, ah? Heh...oh! I am Luciel, alzough 'Luci' vill suffice." With the conclusion of their introduction, they rested their darkened glasses over their lightly squinting eyes.

Trouble in Korthos

I have a majority of a post finished. Should I send it to you, or just post it when its finished, ending in 'waking up'?

EDIT: I didn't see your material, but I can form a full post at this point.

Trouble in Korthos

Still patently hype.
Can certainly start working on 'post zero'(What they were doing before the crash) if we're still doing this.

:x

RWBY based RP

Actally yeah!
Interested!

The Faraway Land: Knights vs Dragons (CLOSED)

Though a silence claimed the nobles in the room, Aark remained steady with how the shadow under their visor radiated the weight of an expecting stare. The reactions of the occupants was priceless in a way the young lord was not entirely prepared for or wanting as it was made clear after a few palpable seconds that seemingly nobody was certain why they were even there. This detail was...disappointing. Aside from the apparently shoddy security of Castle Drakengard, their question was bolstered with merely more holes in the story, quickly convoluting what they had hoped was a simple meeting with an air of espionage.
Aark remained quiet even after the awkward stumbling of admittance that no foreigners were even invited, expecting someone to laugh or be given some cue from the King that this was some kind of joke. Every second twisted screws of anger into the knight until thankfully the Queen finally spoke. Aark obliged her with the letter and subsequently turned on their heel to follow suit with her Isparian kinsman by leaving. Having some time to walk around the table, they measured a response for the queen with as much direct tact as their waning patience would allow.
"Eit iz memorized, be my guest. I vould very much like to hear an explanation, tomorrow, as to why I walked half way around zee verld to be made a mockery ouf," they began before sighing loudly while composing themselves to turn back to the local royalty and bowing their head to the king and queen respectively. "King Alexander, Queen Vali, I szank you deeply for your hospitality," they offered in a slightly defeated tone before turning and leaving.

Outside, the bustle of the courtyard had thankfully died down enough so that Aark did not have to look too far before spotting the giant of a man chillaxing under a nearby tree. The pace the knight held in their gait as they approached Nebel hinted to a clear agitation though without any urgency. "[Kinsman. Come. We are drinking and I am buying, if this confused land will take my gold, that is. There is much to hold palaver, concerning.]" Aark merely barked in Isparian in his direction, gathering it was the only language they could reliably use to converse with him. With a quick and somewhat impatient beckoning gesture, they started off into town to hopefully sus out the nearest and cleanest pubs Drakengard had to offer.

Trouble in Korthos

Likewise.