I have been a bit preoccupied this week - it seems I have managed to arrange myself a busy time -, but I assure you I'll get a post up as soon as I am both certain what I'll be posting (in regards to which I still haven't made clarifications...) and near a computer in a decently awake state.
...And yes, I must admit Koraakan has ended up in a vastly different place than I expected and intended. I made the Reniam-version with the intention of creating a much weaker version (to allow the one to fit in line with the average Reniam-gods) of the equivalent neutral deity in a world of my own while keeping true to the original concept as much as the lore permits. Much as the Nkaa Raakan of Hektairen was more of a background-element with a single notable exception, I had figured the One would be in Reniam - as even things like the Withering are very minor compared to what finally had the Balancer take distinct action. Since then, the group has had to face more deities than I expected and under different circumstances (although the Black Thorn did make a very brief appearance in the previous incarnation of the RP, it did not become significant (yet) and Rilon was not heard of) ... and by now Koraakan's this Weighter-incarnation has apparently managed to write oneself into a place where I presumably can no longer just let Koraakan go back to being Nkaa Raakan, who, just by the virtue of being who the one is, would just continue weighing bargains as always and, above that, simply indefinitely being and nothing more.
(I note, though, that the ability to use a karakon's mind is by no means a "free" ability that Koraakan can call upon at any moment - that is something limited to the Weighter and the Balancer more specifically. It would not - more or less cannot due to how Koraakan works - be used unless the one has become summoned under very unusual circumstances that transcend the usual trading - which was the case here - or retroactively for an already very broken world. Attacking a karakon also saw something like that take effect, but that was solely because ... well, the one targeted is who does the predicting. There probably is something about being personally attacked in the Reniam-version's case, but I have to think about it for a bit...)
Shienvien Member
Creator and Destroyer
- Last Seen: 15 days ago
- Old Guild Username: Shienvien
- Joined: 13 yrs ago
- Posts: 1023 (0.22 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Shienvien 13 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Not a Sayan,
Scrawl Banditta,
SkyeOfStars,
Neziul,
abc,
Crockpot227
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Erm... I phrased things in a manner that could be read in two ways a bit: Koraakan would be the one undoing the damage, not Rilon. The only things Rilon would be made do is first stop doing anything, and then leave the place. Thaler's request back then was actually quite elaborate, and "make it so that they will be unhurt" was a part of it, just as "keep them safe from Rilon and his schemes and minions" and a number of other permutations of "just please keep them SAFE from Rilon" were.
(And no, Thaler did not really include herself ... the only protection she has derives indirectly from the fact that by hurting her he would be hurting the three, too. Basically, if the three left her behind and simply stopped caring about her - not that I could see it happening -, then according to the deal she made Rilon would be free to do whatever he wants with her...)
(And no, Thaler did not really include herself ... the only protection she has derives indirectly from the fact that by hurting her he would be hurting the three, too. Basically, if the three left her behind and simply stopped caring about her - not that I could see it happening -, then according to the deal she made Rilon would be free to do whatever he wants with her...)
Slightly widened eyes were still rapidly flickering from one object to another, scanning the surroundings in a manner which seemed more nervous than wary. And he was nervous, frightened even, a fact that was further apparent from the occasional reflexive twitch of his poised wings triggered by nearby activity, hastened irregular breathing, tensing muscles and the peculiar expression on his face. - His teeth were bared, but not in a human smile ... rather, his lips were drawn back in a manner that aimed to reveal the most of them - longer, sharper and more powerful than a human's like his teeth were, even if no match for a werepyre's fangs - in a quite threatening fashion, truly in a hateful snarl worthy of a cornered predator. Come closer, and I am going to rip your throat out. Well, perhaps not quite with his teeth as a wild predator would - he was no actual beast, after all -, but the very essence of the implied message remained the same.
And as far as being cornered went ... he was not cornered. He was something worse - he was surrounded. Surrounded, out in the open, and on the bloody - both literally and figuratively - ground, furthermore so while amongst perfectly flight-capable beings. There were very many things his instincts found wrong with this kind of setting. Under an open sky, his place was supposed to be somewhere higher up.
Amidst of it all, there was nevertheless one thing which stayed completely steady and unwavering: his aim, now that he had finished loading and raised his gun. The firearm was one more thing between himself and the werepyres, one more thing between a successful defense and being mauled to death. This, at least, was good.
The mercenary who had summoned him offered a somewhat generic greeting at the strange woman who had caught his eye earlier on, and then turned to him. The man was sounding exhausted, even if he apparently did his best to remain polite and well-mannered.
- "Break", the mercenary had called the strange woman, a rather mundane word and furthermore an odd one for a name, raising the question whether it was indeed a true name and whatever kind she was had uncanny traditions of naming or it was an identifier she herself had picked for herself, much like his own name was something he himself had come up with, though his was a strand of vaguely good-sounding random letters and as far as he knew carried no meaning whatsoever. And if the name was her own choosing, then why would a person name herself Break?
'Break did the werepyre...' the winged man thought to what was probably a some kind of tune, and right after that concluded that at some point amidst the stress of prolonged battle and being in a position his instincts screamed to avoid he must have gone insane. He could not even sing, for what it was worth - not in a way that would be particularly pleasant to listen to, anyway, he assumed, not that he could not try regardless.
He glanced at the woman in question - his eyesight was excellent, but now that she was at such a short distance he could have just stretched out his wing and literally touched her, he could really get a closer look at her. Up close, she looked no less semi-material and strange. Pretty. But strange. Eerie. She appeared to have no feet, just blurry nothingness where the limbs should have ended. A part of him wondered whether it was even possible to touch her, or a reaching hand would meet only resistanceless aether. Perhaps it depended on her will. She did not appear to mind the carnage around them, and a leisure flick of wrist conjured up a whip which behaved much more like an extension of her than an actual object. It was good that she was allied to them - from what he had seen, he would rather face five of the damn beasts alone and unarmed than get on the wrong side of this woman.
“Just looking to keep our line intact so that you guys can still give them hell. The commanders seem to be dropping like flies. Someone’s got to keep the morale in check, lest we lose on this day.”
Morale? What morale? If the folks here were rational beings they would realize that as soon as they give up, they are dead. It was no longer the city they we fighting for - it was just one last desperate try to survive. That, however, did not explain why he was still there, being capable of surviving the wild and outmaneuvering the werepyres in the air. Principles, he guessed. The city had not given him much, his friend was most likely already dead, and most of the people here would have considered him a pest on a normal day. Had he been a sane person, he would not be here.
There was probably a reason why angels were usually depicted as humans with painfully dysfunctional wings haphazardly glued to their backs rather than beings which actually had the proper build and musculature to enable flight. Humans often hated inhuman-looking things. His brownish-green skin, facial spikes, somewhat birdlike feet and the fact that his wings were of the membraned rather than feathered kind probably made things worse. As for him? He hated neither human nor inhuman unless they personally gave them a good reason to hate them - and he was, all things considered, a rather tolerant person.
"I'll fight till there is no other defender but me left," he remarked. Of course, he might die, but that was a possibility he was intentionally excluding for the time being.
The mercenary meanwhile managed to take down a werepyre - more through sheer luck than skill, as his lack of confidence in handling the weapon suggested - and spent several moments loading the weapon in silence before answering his other question.
“Now that you mention it, it bothers me as well. Now that you mention it, there are a lot less werepyres than the previous skirmish. What…” and there the man was cut short, as a barrage of the creatures burst forth from the forest - smaller ones, true, but werepyres regardless - and those ones, unlike their bigger kinsmen, had no reservations towards flight.
“We both had to have said something, didn’t we?!” Auroreon roared, and Narandail was not entirely certain whether the man was joking - on the battlefield? - or not. He was too much of a pragmatic mind to believe in jinxing something with a spoken common word and there was no possibility anyone not within a quarter dozen yards could have heard them.
"Would you like to employ me as your resident oracle?" he shouted back, not removing his eyes from an approaching werepyre, his gun lifted and ready. If the other man was making remarks that made no sense viewed from purely realistic standpoint, then he could answer with the same. Helps the morale, he guessed.
The werepyre was getting nearer... Steady, steady... Too far, and he risked missing, too close and he risked getting the beast atop of himself. And then he fired.
Being shot in the face with a large caliber at a very close range did not look pretty, especially when the face in question had not been particularly pretty to begin with.
The werepyre reflexively reached up to its face, as if to try to remove what had hit it, but at the same time its step got mixed up and it fell forward onto the ground. Narandail swung his gun over his shoulder - no time to reload - and took his spear into his hand. Too close! One of his wing-arms shot forward in a controlled quarter-arc and tore out the windpipe of another beast, and then the wings snapped open and were brought down in a powerful beat. He was in the air, and every wingbeat was carrying him higher. He would be above them, and then he would attack. In the corner of his eye, he saw the two responding to the attack ... what was she doing!?
And as far as being cornered went ... he was not cornered. He was something worse - he was surrounded. Surrounded, out in the open, and on the bloody - both literally and figuratively - ground, furthermore so while amongst perfectly flight-capable beings. There were very many things his instincts found wrong with this kind of setting. Under an open sky, his place was supposed to be somewhere higher up.
Amidst of it all, there was nevertheless one thing which stayed completely steady and unwavering: his aim, now that he had finished loading and raised his gun. The firearm was one more thing between himself and the werepyres, one more thing between a successful defense and being mauled to death. This, at least, was good.
The mercenary who had summoned him offered a somewhat generic greeting at the strange woman who had caught his eye earlier on, and then turned to him. The man was sounding exhausted, even if he apparently did his best to remain polite and well-mannered.
- "Break", the mercenary had called the strange woman, a rather mundane word and furthermore an odd one for a name, raising the question whether it was indeed a true name and whatever kind she was had uncanny traditions of naming or it was an identifier she herself had picked for herself, much like his own name was something he himself had come up with, though his was a strand of vaguely good-sounding random letters and as far as he knew carried no meaning whatsoever. And if the name was her own choosing, then why would a person name herself Break?
'Break did the werepyre...' the winged man thought to what was probably a some kind of tune, and right after that concluded that at some point amidst the stress of prolonged battle and being in a position his instincts screamed to avoid he must have gone insane. He could not even sing, for what it was worth - not in a way that would be particularly pleasant to listen to, anyway, he assumed, not that he could not try regardless.
He glanced at the woman in question - his eyesight was excellent, but now that she was at such a short distance he could have just stretched out his wing and literally touched her, he could really get a closer look at her. Up close, she looked no less semi-material and strange. Pretty. But strange. Eerie. She appeared to have no feet, just blurry nothingness where the limbs should have ended. A part of him wondered whether it was even possible to touch her, or a reaching hand would meet only resistanceless aether. Perhaps it depended on her will. She did not appear to mind the carnage around them, and a leisure flick of wrist conjured up a whip which behaved much more like an extension of her than an actual object. It was good that she was allied to them - from what he had seen, he would rather face five of the damn beasts alone and unarmed than get on the wrong side of this woman.
“Just looking to keep our line intact so that you guys can still give them hell. The commanders seem to be dropping like flies. Someone’s got to keep the morale in check, lest we lose on this day.”
Morale? What morale? If the folks here were rational beings they would realize that as soon as they give up, they are dead. It was no longer the city they we fighting for - it was just one last desperate try to survive. That, however, did not explain why he was still there, being capable of surviving the wild and outmaneuvering the werepyres in the air. Principles, he guessed. The city had not given him much, his friend was most likely already dead, and most of the people here would have considered him a pest on a normal day. Had he been a sane person, he would not be here.
There was probably a reason why angels were usually depicted as humans with painfully dysfunctional wings haphazardly glued to their backs rather than beings which actually had the proper build and musculature to enable flight. Humans often hated inhuman-looking things. His brownish-green skin, facial spikes, somewhat birdlike feet and the fact that his wings were of the membraned rather than feathered kind probably made things worse. As for him? He hated neither human nor inhuman unless they personally gave them a good reason to hate them - and he was, all things considered, a rather tolerant person.
"I'll fight till there is no other defender but me left," he remarked. Of course, he might die, but that was a possibility he was intentionally excluding for the time being.
The mercenary meanwhile managed to take down a werepyre - more through sheer luck than skill, as his lack of confidence in handling the weapon suggested - and spent several moments loading the weapon in silence before answering his other question.
“Now that you mention it, it bothers me as well. Now that you mention it, there are a lot less werepyres than the previous skirmish. What…” and there the man was cut short, as a barrage of the creatures burst forth from the forest - smaller ones, true, but werepyres regardless - and those ones, unlike their bigger kinsmen, had no reservations towards flight.
“We both had to have said something, didn’t we?!” Auroreon roared, and Narandail was not entirely certain whether the man was joking - on the battlefield? - or not. He was too much of a pragmatic mind to believe in jinxing something with a spoken common word and there was no possibility anyone not within a quarter dozen yards could have heard them.
"Would you like to employ me as your resident oracle?" he shouted back, not removing his eyes from an approaching werepyre, his gun lifted and ready. If the other man was making remarks that made no sense viewed from purely realistic standpoint, then he could answer with the same. Helps the morale, he guessed.
The werepyre was getting nearer... Steady, steady... Too far, and he risked missing, too close and he risked getting the beast atop of himself. And then he fired.
Being shot in the face with a large caliber at a very close range did not look pretty, especially when the face in question had not been particularly pretty to begin with.
The werepyre reflexively reached up to its face, as if to try to remove what had hit it, but at the same time its step got mixed up and it fell forward onto the ground. Narandail swung his gun over his shoulder - no time to reload - and took his spear into his hand. Too close! One of his wing-arms shot forward in a controlled quarter-arc and tore out the windpipe of another beast, and then the wings snapped open and were brought down in a powerful beat. He was in the air, and every wingbeat was carrying him higher. He would be above them, and then he would attack. In the corner of his eye, he saw the two responding to the attack ... what was she doing!?
I don't think I have any issues with the happenings in the post. Koraakan (assuming the one has won) would first stop Rilon from doing anything harmful and then make him leave and undo as much of the damage done to the group as possible. Between Rilon being stopped from doing anything and others having already been fixed and/or Rilon having left there is no one left to stop her.
(Would you be okay with Aemoten - once mostly healed - coming up from behind her and managing to catch her? I doubt she would be paying too much attention to her surroundings at this point... At least this is a part of the scenario I have in mind... As for now, I have a few other things I have to finish and probably a few more just-in-case questions at Jack after that.)
(Would you be okay with Aemoten - once mostly healed - coming up from behind her and managing to catch her? I doubt she would be paying too much attention to her surroundings at this point... At least this is a part of the scenario I have in mind... As for now, I have a few other things I have to finish and probably a few more just-in-case questions at Jack after that.)
I'm alive, assuredly... I was visiting my family over the weekend after having not done so for a while, and have otherwise been trying to one-woman-army through a coding project I agreed to do and finish it by the time I said I will get it done.
- Will likely post Koraakan's part tonight, for what it's worth (erm, or at some point today).
Edit@Hymusia: You'd still need to know the actual outcome of Aemoten's actions, no? I figure you're free to post once Jack has again (which he noted he'd like to do after I have posted Koraakan).
- Will likely post Koraakan's part tonight, for what it's worth (erm, or at some point today).
Edit@Hymusia: You'd still need to know the actual outcome of Aemoten's actions, no? I figure you're free to post once Jack has again (which he noted he'd like to do after I have posted Koraakan).
...Sorry? ...I honestly don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or unwelcome here in any way.
I'm here. :-)
Uhh... I am once more not entirely certain what I should do... I had intended to post first simply because what Aemoten does technically doesn't affect Thaler directly, and Thaler in return wouldn't be affecting what he does in any way (he'll probably half-register that she is speaking when she does, but wouldn't actually comprehend what she is saying until later). My planned post would - time-wise- be ending about when your *first* paragraph does, and has a fair chance of negating the rest of your post... Basically I intended to post first simply because I imagined there being very little opportunity and time during which Thaler can do anything that would potentially impact my post (hence my OoC-note that she has about five seconds between the yth retaliating to Aemoten's attack and him having already attempted to plunge a dagger into its left eye) before it becomes necessary for you to know what the outcome of my post would be before you can continue the post in a way which'd make sense (since I doubt she'd be acting the same way if Aemoten succeeds and the yth drops limply to the floor halfway through - having a dagger in one's brain tends to work rather quickly). She'd not have the time to speak all those sentences she does in your post - especially those directed at the yth later on - before Aemoten would already have done his thing, successfully or unsuccessfully...
- More so than on basis of turns, I tend to try to time my posts according to the (estimated) duration an action or another would take. This is why Aemoten can have three full paragraphs of speech when everyone is just standing around and doing mostly nothing but will at most pass a word or two when he's actively fighting (and even that has a high chance of resulting in a mistake derived from distraction and thusly injury).
((Once again, this is *not* meant in a negative way. Just learning process, and anyone is welcome to comment on if I do anything odd the same... And my brain is genuinely a little confused at how to make this scene play out in a way that makes sense.))
- More so than on basis of turns, I tend to try to time my posts according to the (estimated) duration an action or another would take. This is why Aemoten can have three full paragraphs of speech when everyone is just standing around and doing mostly nothing but will at most pass a word or two when he's actively fighting (and even that has a high chance of resulting in a mistake derived from distraction and thusly injury).
((Once again, this is *not* meant in a negative way. Just learning process, and anyone is welcome to comment on if I do anything odd the same... And my brain is genuinely a little confused at how to make this scene play out in a way that makes sense.))
Okay, I'll wait until you have posted before I actually do so. For the record, though, there would be around five seconds between Aemoten being hit by the yth and him leaping onto the creature's back to plunge a dagger into its left eye - and he isn't registering too much of the details of his surroundings anymore. (Mentioning this just because technically, several things are happening at once rather than in sequence; I don't know whether it has any impact on what you would post.)
No, Thaler's "recall" has no affect whatsoever. (Refer to Koraakan's sheet in the box - Thaler would have to pay off the relic in full to get rights to it back, amongst other things. As it was worded back to Thaler, the initial trade will go in effect once - ...and if - Koraakan actually *has* the Black Thorn - at which point all apparent harm caused by Rilon will most likely undone -, so the deal has also technically not been broken.)
...We are running out of group members who can actually do something. Jaelnec's been paralyzed, Thaler is pressed against the wall and is having more than half foot long claws being forcefully pressed deeper into her body (which tends to make people unable to react in any sensible way), and I am not certain whether Aemoten will be able to stay on his feet for much longer after he makes another desperate attempt to make the yth let go of the daywalker in my next post (since the yth's retaliation crushed several of his ribs in; he will mostly only remain standing because of adrenaline and bleeding out internally taking some minutes). Etakar is outside.... Erm... Olan, any good ideas?
...We are running out of group members who can actually do something. Jaelnec's been paralyzed, Thaler is pressed against the wall and is having more than half foot long claws being forcefully pressed deeper into her body (which tends to make people unable to react in any sensible way), and I am not certain whether Aemoten will be able to stay on his feet for much longer after he makes another desperate attempt to make the yth let go of the daywalker in my next post (since the yth's retaliation crushed several of his ribs in; he will mostly only remain standing because of adrenaline and bleeding out internally taking some minutes). Etakar is outside.... Erm... Olan, any good ideas?
© 2007-2026