The 42nd Gecko

To the Ends of Tamriel [An Elder Scrolls Roleplay]

"Mmm... Thank you, darling." Drevayne accepted the Ale deftly, his fingers knowing his way around the glass far too well without even looking. His eyes stayed locked with hers as he leaned in right back at her. Even as he took a deep swig, he kept eye contact. "Normally I'd argue with you to charge what you charge the others, then we'd eventually settle on something in the middle, or I'd get kicked out in the midst of a barfight, but I've got business to attend to." His other hand pulled out a pouch from underneath the bar, setting it on the table with a suitable loud clunk.

"Keep the change, eh, darling?" He gave her a wink as he drained the rest of the ale in one smooth chug, then slid her the bottle across the table. He'd had a lot of time to practice his bar tricks.

And the little illusion that'd last another ten minutes of an extra 20 coins in the pouch that only contained the real price of that Ale? Pretty much the only illusion spell he still practiced.

Making his way of to Hargjorn's table, "Heard you're aiming to venture into business most lucrative and ridiculously dangerous. Heh." Sliding himself into a chair if no one made to stop him, he continued. "It's all good fun until someone's choking on his own intestines. As a healer of quite some skill, I'm sure you wouldn't mind me taking one of the shares to make sure you're still able to appreciate yours."

Dungeon Keepers (This one's done. Go to The Horde of Evil instead)

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To the Ends of Tamriel [An Elder Scrolls Roleplay]

"Drink, as always, but I usually come in on your off hours, it would seem, so no harm done. I'll have the usu... wait, you wouldn't know it, hum, what's the name again... Heh.. Been so long since I had to call it by name.." Drevayne stroked his chin for a moment, before glancing over to notice someone else's drink at the bar. "Aha! It's that one, whatever the hell's you call it. That's what the usual is."

Drevayne seemed to completely overlook her implied slight against him. He was, after all, an elf.

Magitech Girls! A mecha musume/magical girl monster-fighting RP signups and interest check relaunch!

"The lack of flight would make her inneffective against the Nephilim"

"Chimere’s suit can fly, but it’s not very good at it." It's not that it can't fly, it's just saying its not as agile as the others in the air. And, if you'll notice, this is hinted at being due to personal fear (of heights, specifically) rather than any weakness of the gear, so that it can be overcome later as the character grows (a recurring theme in my bio). The enhanced ground performance is just a side note (like how someone might have underwater performance as a side note that comes up once a season), and a preparation for a special move I have in mind later.

"none of her weapons have the trait(magitech) needed to hurt a Nephilim."

I was under the impression that when a MagiGear has a weapon, it is automatically an enhanced Magitech version (so the Katana's probably have magic cutting edges like your sword and the bullets fired by the guns are special and whatnot.) But, if I'm needed to specify that explicitly, by all means, I could. It's implied their magitech, because Chimere's emotions cause them to break quickly, which is not a thing that happens with any strictly technological artifact.

"they still have to have the "mecha musume" feel"

I wanted to use such a darkly aligned picture to really hit home her association with death and shadow, something that the anime style really has trouble doing in my opinion, but I can certainly change the concept around a bit to go with an anime picture.

To the Ends of Tamriel [An Elder Scrolls Roleplay]

Thank you. And I presume we are back to normal posting order now, yes?

Dungeon Keepers (This one's done. Go to The Horde of Evil instead)

Glorious Cyprus, the only real country. Monolith, a city state, and everywhere else was a hellish landscape with inhabitants too stubborn to move. Amplus, the shining light of Cyprus, barely has an underclass, the king making sure to employ almost the entire population and prevent slums.

Barely.

It was 17 years ago today, my people, my culture fell. I say "my" but I hardly know it. A mountainous tribe with quaint ways carried from over the desert and preserved in isolation. Almost all I know of my culture was passed down from my mother. My father drunk himself to sleep and never woke up, a coward too afraid to fight to defend our village and too afraid to face the reality of his choice. I bear his sword at my side, for her sake, she tells me the sword is the pride of our ancestors. Truly, it's a blade unlike those of Cyprus, a graceful curved thing, graying out with slow rust and age. It'll last long enough to assuage my mother, but not pass to my children, I think.

I stubbornly peddle the art of my culture. It keeps us alive, and it warms my mother's heart to see me carry on the family legacy. But I cannot help but wonder, is this what was meant for our culture? To be sold quietly and then die to those who destroyed it? I hardly know the truth of what we once were, I wish I did.

I have so many dreams of what it might have been, that I hardly wish to wake. But the weight of the sword reminds me that I have to care for what little family I have left, my sister and mother. I will rise, and whittle and paint, and peddle away a heritage I do not know.

~~

My mother did not wake this morning. The sleeping sickness claimed another. It runs rampant through the districts ascribed to refugees. No help arrived to wake her, but the day had hardly reached noon before the guards and civil servants had arrived to claim me and my sister and clear away the things of our house to make way for a brighter family. I am old enough to serve as a civil-squire to the military, and she will be taken to a school. I have no doubt it's for the best of the city.

Damn the city. Damn the military, damn their school. I bound the scroll of ancestors about my hilt, and grabbed my sister. I told her, "We are going home, Xao." I'm a liar. I don't know the way home. I was too young when we were taken. But we are leaving, before they find us.

~~

I... I think I know what my father felt. Xao doesn't wake anymore, and I can tell my nights are growing longer and more desperate. My body is so stiff and cold when I wake, a strange sweat covering me. I didn't see this symptom in the others, but I suppose this is my body fighting it and staying alive longer. But do I still want to fight?

Everyone I cared about is gone. My fight meant nothing. Had I stayed, I would have had to face not seeing Xao again, to serving those I hated. But running was no better.

Perhaps... To end in the dreams I once cherished, would not be such a bad thing. To fall asleep aside Xao. Father, forgive my hatred. I didn't know what it was like to have to choose between surrender and a hopeless battle.

~~

~Awaken, great dreamer.~

Who's there?

~I am the dream of hope and the haunt of vengeance. The spirit of your ancestors, their anguish at the future and their memories of the past, called me to this place.~

Dream of hope? Haunt of vengeance? Are you evil, spirit or are you good?

~No being is of one without the other. The hope of justice is a steel forged in the fires of vengeance. But I understand the deeper question, I will show you the answer. You need not trust me. Trust what I pass onto you from your answers.~

I.... That is my father.. when he was young.. and his father... and before him... I... All these pasts, our culture.. My heritage..

~It is much to assimilate. It will take you years. But though you might have such time, Xao does not. AWAKEN.~

~~

I awoke, and my body was on fire. Energy coursed through me, and the scroll of my ancestors burned into my skin. Xao was beside me, still as death. I reached a hand to touch her cheek. Cold as the air around us. Too late.

~She is dead, yes. But her spirit yet lingers out of affection for you, despite the grievous assault Reginaldus forced upon it. Lay your palm over her heart.~

"That is..."

~No crude necromancy is this. It is spiritualism, another art of your forebears. You do not bind an unwilling spirit to you, but grant a willing soul a place to reside until a new body can be found.~

I closed my eyes, and laid my hand upon Xao. I felt the power surge ever greater, and heat blossomed through Xao, before I heard her voice.

~Thank you, brother... It is good to speak to you again..~

"Xao...."

~I'm going to rest for awhile, but I'll be back, wait for me..~

I would have waited until the mountains crumbled, till the thought struck me. The one this world hinged on. "Wait, you said Reginaldus."

~Assaulted her? Yes. And your mother and father as well. Your people did not assimilate well, and so he began their destruction. The sleeping sickness is no sickness. It is a spell. He watches dreams and steals lives.~

"He will pay." I spoke through clenched teeth. My fist tightened around the burning sword in my hand, and I rose, the heat growing ever brighter. I swung the sword of my ancestors, and the topsoil was cleaved, as though a thousand swords fell at once. Trees fell apart as though they were made of sticks and a light breeze had raised.

The burning subsided, I felt exhausted. I had just destroyed a circle of 30 feet of landscape, with a sword stroke.

~It will not be easy, it will require guile, and art, and patience. But you will have your vengeance. Walk with me. You shall be Taote, and I shall be Laozi.~

"I am ready."

~~

So easy it was, to inspire a little paladin to fight for a cause he believes is his own. Vengeance for his parents. Hope for his sister. The best lies are always the truth.

Compendium Entry

"Laozi, Memory of the Departed"- Almost certainly not this keeper's real name, this keeper is manifesting as some sort of "spirit of the ancestors" to aid "Taote". Currently, Laozi is refraining from taking physical form, instead acting through Taote's sword. As such, his power is free to be focused entirely on magical applications. This is currently offset by the fact that his "heart" is a humble scabbard. Laozi seems to be able to awaken people from the stupor of one of the King of Cyprus' deathly dreams, as well as call upon spirits and memories. And, of course, no Keeper is complete without destructive sword beams.

"Taote, The Great Dreamer"- Something about this boy on the verge of manhood attracted Laozi. Perhaps he is a latent sorcerer, perhaps he was a convenient tragedy, or perhaps he was simply good at dreaming. He carries Laozi as the sword of his ancestors, believing Laozi to be aiding him in both revenge and the resurrection of his sister.

Currently No Dungeon or Minions (other than Taote). Located in the lands north of the trade route between Monolith and Amplus, 9 o'clock of the big lake.

Dungeon Keepers (This one's done. Go to The Horde of Evil instead)

Alright, we ready to start IC posting, or we waiting on something?

To the Ends of Tamriel [An Elder Scrolls Roleplay]

A quaint set of footsteps, by the by, it was. The footsteps of a man with a wooden leg, not all too strange for a tavern near a port, but what was strange was the man had two others. Apparently, the answer to the Sphinx's riddle was "Elf", it was revealed, as Drevayne Telvanni entered. Most elves kept to the Gray Quarter, save for a few ill-fated entertainers, and the elderly and infirm rarely graced this tavern.

Though Drevayne kept both hands on his staff, firmly planting it with each step, his back was tall and straight, and his movements not so slow as to cause frustration to those behind him. It looked rather like he might be able to walk firmly without his staff, but that he had it just in case.

He headed in towards the bar.

Dungeon Keepers [Be an evil overlord, attempt world domination]

Mwhahahaha... The first foolish keeper to enter my jungles... hehehee...

Dungeon Keepers [Be an evil overlord, attempt world domination]

Glorious Cyprus, the only real country. Monolith, a city state, and everywhere else was a hellish landscape with inhabitants too stubborn to move. Amplus, the shining light of Cyprus, barely has an underclass, the king making sure to employ almost the entire population and prevent slums.

Barely.

It was 17 years ago today, my people, my culture fell. I say "my" but I hardly know it. A mountainous tribe with quaint ways carried from over the desert and preserved in isolation. Almost all I know of my culture was passed down from my mother. My father drunk himself to sleep and never woke up, a coward too afraid to fight to defend our village and too afraid to face the reality of his choice. I bear his sword at my side, for her sake, she tells me the sword is the pride of our ancestors. Truly, it's a blade unlike those of Cyprus, a graceful curved thing, graying out with slow rust and age. It'll last long enough to assuage my mother, but not pass to my children, I think.

I stubbornly peddle the art of my culture. It keeps us alive, and it warms my mother's heart to see me carry on the family legacy. But I cannot help but wonder, is this what was meant for our culture? To be sold quietly and then die to those who destroyed it? I hardly know the truth of what we once were, I wish I did.

I have so many dreams of what it might have been, that I hardly wish to wake. But the weight of the sword reminds me that I have to care for what little family I have left, my sister and mother. I will rise, and whittle and paint, and peddle away a heritage I do not know.

~~

My mother did not wake this morning. The sleeping sickness claimed another. It runs rampant through the districts ascribed to refugees. No help arrived to wake her, but the day had hardly reached noon before the guards and civil servants had arrived to claim me and my sister and clear away the things of our house to make way for a brighter family. I am old enough to serve as a civil-squire to the military, and she will be taken to a school. I have no doubt it's for the best of the city.

Damn the city. Damn the military, damn their school. I bound the scroll of ancestors about my hilt, and grabbed my sister. I told her, "We are going home, Xao." I'm a liar. I don't know the way home. I was too young when we were taken. But we are leaving, before they find us.

~~

I... I think I know what my father felt. Xao doesn't wake anymore, and I can tell my nights are growing longer and more desperate. My body is so stiff and cold when I wake, a strange sweat covering me. I didn't see this symptom in the others, but I suppose this is my body fighting it and staying alive longer. But do I still want to fight?

Everyone I cared about is gone. My fight meant nothing. Had I stayed, I would have had to face not seeing Xao again, to serving those I hated. But running was no better.

Perhaps... To end in the dreams I once cherished, would not be such a bad thing. To fall asleep aside Xao. Father, forgive my hatred. I didn't know what it was like to have to choose between surrender and a hopeless battle.

~~

~Awaken, great dreamer.~

Who's there?

~I am the dream of hope and the haunt of vengeance. The spirit of your ancestors, their anguish at the future and their memories of the past, called me to this place.~

Dream of hope? Haunt of vengeance? Are you evil, spirit or are you good?

~No being is of one without the other. The hope of justice is a steel forged in the fires of vengeance. But I understand the deeper question, I will show you the answer. You need not trust me. Trust what I pass onto you from your answers.~

I.... That is my father.. when he was young.. and his father... and before him... I... All these pasts, our culture.. My heritage..

~It is much to assimilate. It will take you years. But though you might have such time, Xao does not. AWAKEN.~

~~

I awoke, and my body was on fire. Energy coursed through me, and the scroll of my ancestors burned into my skin. Xao was beside me, still as death. I reached a hand to touch her cheek. Cold as the air around us. Too late.

~She is dead, yes. But her spirit yet lingers out of affection for you, despite the grievous assault Reginaldus forced upon it. Lay your palm over her heart.~

"That is..."

~No crude necromancy is this. It is spiritualism, another art of your forebears. You do not bind an unwilling spirit to you, but grant a willing soul a place to reside until a new body can be found.~

I closed my eyes, and laid my hand upon Xao. I felt the power surge ever greater, and heat blossomed through Xao, before I heard her voice.

~Thank you, brother... It is good to speak to you again..~

"Xao...."

~I'm going to rest for awhile, but I'll be back, wait for me..~

I would have waited until the mountains crumbled, till the thought struck me. The one this world hinged on. "Wait, you said Reginaldus."

~Assaulted her? Yes. And your mother and father as well. Your people did not assimilate well, and so he began their destruction. The sleeping sickness is no sickness. It is a spell. He watches dreams and steals lives.~

"He will pay." I spoke through clenched teeth. My fist tightened around the burning sword in my hand, and I rose, the heat growing ever brighter. I swung the sword of my ancestors, and the topsoil was cleaved, as though a thousand swords fell at once. Trees fell apart as though they were made of sticks and a light breeze had raised.

The burning subsided, I felt exhausted. I had just destroyed a circle of 30 feet of landscape, with a sword stroke.

~It will not be easy, it will require guile, and art, and patience. But you will have your vengeance. Walk with me. You shall be Taote, and I shall be Laozi.~

"I am ready."

~~

So easy it was, to inspire a little paladin to fight for a cause he believes is his own. Vengeance for his parents. Hope for his sister. The best lies are always the truth.

Compendium Entry:
"Laozi, Memory of the Departed"- Almost certainly not this keeper's real name, this keeper is manifesting as some sort of "spirit of the ancestors" to aid "Taote". Currently, Laozi is refraining from taking physical form, instead acting through Taote's sword. As such, his power is free to be focused entirely on magical applications. This is currently offset by the fact that his "heart" is a humble scabbard. Laozi seems to be able to awaken people from the stupor of one of the King of Cyprus' deathly dreams, as well as call upon spirits and memories. And, of course, no Keeper is complete without destructive sword beams.

"Taote, The Great Dreamer"- Something about this boy on the verge of manhood attracted Laozi. Perhaps he is a latent sorcerer, perhaps he was a convenient tragedy, or perhaps he was simply good at dreaming. He carries Laozi as the sword of his ancestors, believing Laozi to be aiding him in both revenge and the resurrection of his sister.

Currently No Dungeon or Minions (other than Taote). Located in the lands north of the trade route between Monolith and Amplus, 9 o'clock of the big lake.