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Found 13 results

  1. How much for a sword?

    A small village is under threat by a group of bandits, they extort, kidnap, rape and steal. Tired of the continuous harassment they seek outside help to save them, but without treasure of any kind what sort of mercenary can they hire? Hungry ones! I am interested in a low-fantasy medieval RP: less magic, more grumbling. Develop down-on-your-luck mercenaries or down-trodden villagers. Whatever might fit into the story. I think 4 participants would be ideal. I'll release some more background stuff once I think it up.
  2. And so is the Golden City blackenedWith each step you take in my Hall.Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting.You have brought Sin to HeavenAnd doom upon all the world. They say that it's our fault, that it's because of us these monsters have appeared. It seems like everywhere you go, the peasants and slaves have renewed boldness, spitting and cursing our presence regardless of consequences. They threaten to rebel, emboldened by their preoccupied masters' lack of focus--already Emerius has shed blood in its streets, quieting the protests. But with its leadership in disarray, too preoccupied with rumors of a weakening Archon, a new prospect of power, the commonfolk will not stay quiet. The Imperium is already weak, this endless century-long war having weathered the foundations on which we once stood. You'd think that those responsible for upholding our grand kingdom would take more action to put an end to this 'Blight', but instead the fools sit and squabble amongst themselves, playing their hands conservatively to protect their holds and properties. Some even incite more carnage, using the blood that has been spilled to fuel their snatches at more power. Thedas is already going to hell in a handbasket--who can get dragged down with the most to their name? Idiots, all of them. It doesn't matter who did what or why, all that matters is these . . . darkspawn must be stopped. Horrifying, vile creatures that taint everything they touch--even dragons! For the past one hundred years, one High Dragon, twisted and terrifying, has been seen . . . rallying these monsters, like a leader of some kind. Some people think that it is one of our beloved Gods, tainted to reveal His true nature by humanity's sins. I doubt that, and it doesn't really make a damned difference anyway, does it? Nor will we, as long as people expect the magisters to do something. The world is crumbling, the Imperium is falling apart, and all anyone can seem to do is curl up in a corner and cower. Even the stout and valorous dwarves of Kal-Sharok have withdrawn--although that's hardly their fault, since these creatures supposedly came from underground. Minrathous still stands, at least, but that's hardly saying anything, given it won't stand for much longer if this continues. Sure, we've managed some victories, kept some cities and outposts from being utterly ransacked, but the people are changed. Some wind up tainted, perhaps as an effect of the darkspawn as the rumors go, and become ghoulish and mad--leaving someone the sad choice of putting the miserable creature down. No more. This Blight--as people have been calling it--must be stopped. Gods, dragons, magic, Fade, demons--whatever the source does not truly matter, and speculation and blame do not stop the fact that it is a disease that is destroying us. I will no longer wait for others to take action--it's high time someone took matters into their own hands, and that someone may as well be me. Moral Grey It's been almost a century since the Blight began, marked by the rise of a twisted Dragon people have taken to calling an Archdemon, and the world has slowly fallen into chaos as creatures known as the darkspawn ravage the lands. No one's certain where the darkspawn came from or what this 'Archdemon' really is, or even how to destroy them, for while the darkspawn fall easily enough to metal and magic, the Archdemon seems nigh immortal. With an immortal creature leading a horde apparently set on destroying Thedas, the people are thrown into a panic, and at the heart of the chaos is the Tevinter Imperium. Once a powerful kingdom ruled by blood magic that stood upon the backs of elvhen slaves, the Archdemon and its monstrous army are no doubt herald of its impending fall. Not only do slaves and peasants rebel as the darkspawn lay siege to the Imperium, the Imperium also suffers from within as magisters threaten civil war. Some wish to topple their incompetent Archon and claim the rule for themselves, others use the chaos to further their own agendas and try to 'settle' old disputes, and the rest who pledge their forces to fight the darkspawn are simply too few. But to the east, in the port-city of Qarinus where the darkspawn assaults are fewer, rumors of a strange woman looking for aid circulate. The past several weeks, as the locals will tell you, she has been going around, asking for volunteers to aid her in defeating the Blight. She claims to know a way to put a stop to it, and demands only that those who would help her be strong in their convictions. Be they slaves, Soporati, Laetans, even rebels--she calls for aid from all. But does she really know how to stop the Blight? And how can one small group possibly hope to change the world? ------------ Setting: The Tevinter Imperium, approx. -302TE (fall) Regions include Seheron, Anderfels, Antiva, and Tevinter Map of Thedas (large file) Races: Humans, elves, dwarves All classes and most specializations are permissible Elf-blooded are fairly common, though frowned upon. Dwarf-blooded are rarer, but not unheard of. Dwarves are also more virile than in Origins. Kossith not yet discovered--had one settlement in the Korcari Wilds before being wiped out during the Blight. Alamarri, Clayne, Chasind, and Avvar tribes exist Worship of the Old Gods is in rapid decline, and practitioners are met with mixed reactions. Chantry has not yet been founded, and thus templars do not exist. Circles do, though. Elves have no claim to the Dales and thus there are no Dalish elves, meaning there are no Keepers. However, renegade elves free from slavery do exist Blood magic is prevalent almost everywhere. Most, if not all mages, at least know the basics. Reavers are also fairly common. Somniari exist, albeit still rare. Their association with Archon Thalsian and thus the Old Gods have increased hostility towards them, in some cases even resulting in purging. Most, though not all thaigs have fallen. Kal-Sharok maintains minimal contact with the surface. Legion of the Dead is not yet founded. This is an idea I've had in my head for awhile now, and that I've been dying to play out. I originally intended to play it out as a story for the tabletop DA game, but I couldn't get my hands on the books I needed and then later moved to an area where tabletop gaming is virtually unheard of (the horror!). However, I still think the story has great potential, and would love to roleplay it out in one form or another, so I figure why not roleplay it here? Anyone is welcome to join, even if you haven't played the games, and I'm more than happy to provide information wherever needed. Most of the info here is based on heavy research into the otherwise minimal descriptions of Dragon Age history, and as such is taken with a lot of liberties. I believe most of it is accurate, although if someone else equally familiar with Thedosian history would like to provide advice and corrections where they're needed, it's certainly not unwelcome. Given that this is set during a time period not officially expanded on in-canon, there will be plenty of room to flex ideas--after all, given Thedas' history, much knowledge of magic, Arlathan, dwarves, the thaigs, and so much more was lost, especially after the fall of the Imperium. And since this takes place while the Imperium still retains far more power than the Imperium in Origins, it is safe to assume that much more knowledge is still to be had. The primary plot of this roleplay will be centered around founding the Grey Wardens, with plenty of bumps along the road, of course. Expect there to be plenty of magic, demons, Fade wandering (because what DA story is complete without at least one trip into the Fade), political strife, intrigue, and of course plenty of darkspawn waiting to have blades sunken into them! If you want to join, just fill out the following:
  3. How much for a sword? [R]

    There is a rhythm in all things, peace turns to war, safety turns to fear, friends turn to enemies, lords and kings come and go. A time of uncertainty and war has fallen on the land. The strong do what they want, and the weak suffer what they must. Sweat beaded and ran down his brow as large as pebbled. He couldn't stop his heart pounding or his legs shaking. His hand was clamped over his mouth for fear they would hear his rapid breath. Even though his heart beat pounded in his ears, he could hear everything clearly, even the smallest things. The horses snuffled and shuffled their feet in the lush grass of summer. Leather creaked when one rider shifted in the saddle. Metal clinked against metal. Rossi jumped and almost let out a yelp when one of the riders spoke up. "What do you think?" A male human voice said. "I'd guess two months before harvest time." A female elf voice answered. "Not worth it yet." The first voice answered. "Unless we want moldy blankets and barrels of flat beer." He let out a half laugh. "We hit this place last year anyhow, I doubt they have much else left." Said a lizardman voice. "Lets not waste our time here, we will be back in three months and take all they got." Said strong human voice. "We will hit that village down the river, I want fish anyhow." The band of horseman turned and headed back over the crest of the hill from which they were viewing the tiny village. Rossi waited until he no longer heard them before scrambling up out of the patch of think thorns and vines that had concealed him. He gave one frightened look in the direction the horsemen departed in, and ran down the him as fast as his old legs would carry him ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Someone were crying, most were silent. They all knew what was at stake. Loosing one harvest was a disaster, loosing two in a row was a death sentence. Most of the village was gathered in the dusty common land at the center of town. Some shouted, some cried, some sat silently. Every so often someone would shout a suggestion, then get shouted down by dissenters. "We should give in! Beg to keep enough to live off of!" - "They would take everything just to spite us!' "We should contact the lord!" - "He would do nothing! Just like last time!" "We should just kill ourselves! Then the lord might notice!" Everyone fell silent at that suggestion. Ranunt, one of the more weathly farmers, spoke up at last. "We should as the Old Man." Everyone silently agreed, and shuffled after Ranunt, toward the old, creaky mill at the edge of town. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Not everyone would fit inside the mill house, most crowded out front, peering through windows. Ranunt and Rossi sat on the rushes silently. Everyone was silent and tense. They had told everything they knew, telling every detail they knew or imagined. The Old Man just sat, sunken old eyes looking down, deep in thought. "We must contact the lord." Said Ranunt. "We must give them what they want." Said Rossi. "We must fight!" Shouted a younger villager pushing into the room. It was a younger elf, Turas, his eyes burning. The Old Man did not respond or even seem to react. Everyone held their breath. Finally, as quiet as a whisper, the Old Man spoke: "When I was a young man, I saw many villages burnt and destroyed. I once found one that was intact." "What did they do?" Rossi interjected. "They hired fighters." The Old Man answered slowly. "But how, we have no money, only grain," The Old Man smirked "Well then hire hungry soldiers." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After some deliberation, it had been decided that Ranunt and Rossi would go to look for soldiers. Turas had insisted to come along too, and they did not turn him away. They set out the next morning with meager rations, old woolen cloaks and walking sticks. A bedraggled last hope for the village. The had walked for two days before making it to the nearest town, Cooper's Crossing, the nearest ferry and the only thing considered a town for leagues in any direction. Even so it was a bustling place for the small town farmers, and full of traps set for easy marks. Luckily their lack of valuable got them out of most scrapes but soon left them with little food, and had robbed them of the few copper coins they had gathered in the village. Every time they had approach a person bearing arms, they had been laughed away. No one was willing to risk their necks for a meal or two a day. Time wore on and they seemed to get no where. Their hope failing, they sat in the corner of the public house they stayed in. "Maybe we should return home." Rossi said. "At least we can starve in our own homes." "Don't think that way." Turas snapped. "We must succeed." "We certainly must." Ranunt said staring at the dirt floor. "I just hope we find at least one soldier willing to help us soon."
  4. Outside of a village in the woods many years ago, there lived a young woman named Aemilia that the villagers dubbed "The Screeching Witch" because she would always screech and curse aloud. Because of this the village elders banished her into the woods so that her loud noises would not distract the others. Aemilia lived alone in her cottage, not daring to come into contact with other human beings. Her only companions were the animals whom she would help, but deep down, she wished for human companionship. Alright, so this is the story of a young woman who's made an outcast because she has Tourette Syndrome in an era where the condition is not known of. This'll be a romance, so I'll need someone for Aemilia to fall in love with (male, female, I don't care).
  5. OPEN Living in the Valley

    Los Angeles in the early 90s (aka The Big Lebowski time) was filled with multiculturalism, consumerism, and everthing going to THE EXTREME, DUDE! This roleplay will center around people living in this time period and the stories they tell. Character Sheet Name: Age: Gender: Occupation: Looks: Personality: Other info:
  6. 『The time has come〠The kings of the kingdoms have decided who they must marry their sons off to, but something seems to be off. Two kingdoms have chosen the same princess to be their Queen. Her name is Drawfag and she has the power to bring immediate victory and ultimate strength to each kingdom, yet at the same time she's completely unaware of what truly is going on. Both men are similarly equal in stance, strength and looks, but their intentions are galaxies apart. One holds an unconditional love and respect for Lady Drawfag and the other wishes to turn them askew so in turn he can destroy his true love in order to make space for his own. The first one is Mikatao and the second Ali-Al Saachez. Watch as one duels for the hand of the Lady while the other triggers all he has for the hand of the one fighting against him. Who will win? Who will be with who in the end? Will lady Drawfag die without a chance to spawn mini Drawfag's with Mikatao and will Mikatao be Ali-Al Shaachez's fiancé? Or will Ali-Al Saachez perish along with his intentions and Drawfag marries her true savior, Mikatao? Stay tuned to find out. [] Rules/Explaination [] ◠Alright so first off, this isn't quite an open roleplay but I'll keep it open because the main character [drawfag] doesn't even know this is happening, but it's totally alright. ◠Plus, adding more people would change a ton of things already planned. ◠I feel it would be better for everyone to follow third person omniscient, but I feel like first person would work too. Whatever don't listen to me. ◠Drawfag, we'd totally appreciate it if you joined and became our Queen. Ali-Al Saachez will want to kill you though, like always, so beware, like always. ◠Mikatao will play the man desperately in love with [Drawfag] hence the description up above. ◠This is sort of like a crack roleplay with a ton of things to fix and improve, but it'll be fun. ◠Finally, if you look at our discussion/argument in the thread " Understanding the language of women" you'll see a teaser of what we mean. ◠Ali-Al Saachez wants me. He wants to yaoi with me. /wiggles eyebrows/ ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- [i found a computer] Basics: Setting: Sureality Explaination: Sureality is our town and it is our world. Here we have the "News/Information", "Library", "Roleplaying" and "Out-Of-Character" areas. The "News/Information" area is for those who would like to know what is happening in Sureality. The "Roleplaying" is for jobs and choosing jobs and taking part in new jobs, "Student Roleplays" is for those who have not been in Sureality for so long or have just joined and would like a feel for the town before going out on their own. The "Library" is for those who are either sick of their job, want/need more money for a new job or are just wanting to expand their work experience. The "Out-of-Character" is for vacationing, hobbies, interests, ideas or rants from the towns people. Each thread = a part of town with buildings or houses housing/keeping organized one particular area. Example: Sureality is a town broken up into four parts. These parts of the town are merely called "Library" or "Roleplaying" "News/Info" "Out-of-Character", but they have smaller houses or work places inside them that consist of "Student Roleplays" "Fantasy Roleplays", "Roleplay Discussion" etc. So basically imagine these threads as a house and if you, as a towns person, goes into these houses, you will see several people working on their own projects in their own rooms or wherever. Plot: Within this town, the Kings/Queens (This could be.. I dunno Kyo or Sierra or none existant lol) have two sons who have come of age to marry the princess. (Statuses are what we've made up based on randomness. They're prince's and Drawfag's a princess. If Trinity allows me to add her name in here for random reasons, then she could even be Drawfag's princess sister. Which means you can't claim her Drawfag.. unless you like incest) So basically Mikatao and Ali-Al Shaachez are the princes and they are both expected to fight over Drawfag, but Ali-Al Shaachez wants Mikatao and Mikatao is in love with Drawfag so thats where the anger brews. They fight over each other. (I don't know Drawfag's intentions, but I feel they revolve around incest if Trinity is her sister) Their fight will consist of many strategies, types of warfare and weaponry where they will travel through Sureality and in turn retrive all the information that they can about Drawfag's whereabouts. If Mikatao reaches there first, he will attempt to take Drawfag's hand in marriage and if Ali-Al Saachez makes it there first he will kill Drawfag which will in turn force Mikatao to be with him. I don't think Drawfag has a say in this, don't know yet. Overall Primary Objective: Ruin/destruct town with your fighting, but don't harm the civilians and reach Drawfag before your opponent does. Secondary Objective: Create a plot twist of some kind and let Mikatao win ^^ Characters: Mikatao, Ali-Al Saachez and Drawfag [Open for extra characters who would like to help]
  7. Tide and Tempest Tough the morning was young, the sun had already risen enough to wash the bay in its golden light. The docks were already bustling with the work of the merchant vessels, each crew and captain tending to its own business. The market was coming alive with shop keepers readying their fronts, and tradesmen bartering their goods for sale. Perched atop the rising island, watching the passage of the bay across water, stood Harrington Hall. The glass windows glittered, catching light of the rising sun. the silhouette of the majestic structure was visible from even the lowest part of the docks. As long as a man stood where he could see the bay, he could glance out over the shallows and see the windows staring back at him. The estate was a symbol as much as it was an ornament; a constant reminder that nearly every property was owned and overseen by the master of this prestigious house. It had been so for three generations. Each son that had inherited from his father, had added to the wealth and control that the Harrington family commanded. By the time the young Marcus Harrington had come into his inheritance only one year ago, he boasted ownership of half the store front properties and an impressive fleet of merchant vessels. The Harrington's weren't without competition in business, of course. Port Chatham was a small harbor in comparison to the rest of the sea-trade world, and goods and mercantile had to come from somewhere. But in Chatham, the Harrington's were as wealthy and as powerful a family you would find. They were the Aristocratic Royalty of the region. This morning, Marcus found himself pacing the aisles of his library, haunting the hollows of a usually vacant nook. The books that hid themselves, tucked away in this corner kept mythology of the ancient Greeks, sea-lore of the distant Nordsmen, and legends of the lost Atlantis. These were stories he'd once had a fascination with, in childhood when he had dreamed himself an adventurer. but Marcus had grown up despite boy-hood fantasies. He learned, instead, to hone his skills to his fathers standards. A businessman. A gentleman. Collected. Intelligent. He should have let his fantasies remain in his childhood; and he would have, if it had not been for an unusual event the week before. A chance moment, when he'd gone to the shipyard and seen something - or someone, he supposed. An encounter that had stirred long forgotten memories and awoken a long dormant interest in sea-lore and mythology. He furrowed his brow as he skimmed over the words on the page. It couldn't all be fiction. In every lie dwelt some truth, and he believed that he'd seen some of that truth with his own eyes. The most beautiful truth he could have ever hoped to behold, too. He wanted to know more. He wanted to see it again. He wanted... He wasn't sure what he wanted. Marcus clapped the book closed as he turned his attention out the bright window beside him. He gazed down at the shape of the docks, the tiny figures crawling like ants over the planks of the ships and structures. But that's not what interested him. He squinted at the clear blue water that lapped against the rocks. The sloping slabs where he'd seen her green eyes. There was no shape there anymore, no figure draped on the stones in the tide to watch the workers, no lovely creature spying on them as they went about their business, oblivious. No sign of the siren he'd seen. Not since last week past. And Marcus had kept a close watch. He half believed himself to be mad. He could picture her as vividly as if he'd seen it only moments ago. She had been lounging on the jut of rock beside the docks, with no shame for her nakedness, until she'd seen him gazing at her, stupefied. Then, like a dream vanishing as he woke, she'd drawn away, slipping with grace into the water, and he'd seen her shape change. He swore it. Her legs melted together, taking a new form as the water swallowed her up. And she was gone. But he'd seen her. Those green eyes were burned into his memory like a branding iron. Images of her perfection haunted his dreams. She had been real. She'd been absolute. She tormented him. He would find her. "Rajani," his voice echoed off the high slopes of the ceiling in the corridor as he left the library behind him. His boots fell in a swift pattern on the richly colored rug, carrying him with purpose towards the study in his own chambers. He didn't call for her again. She'd come. She was reliable like that. The only person in the living world Marcus would trust with his life since his father had joined his mother in the tombs beneath the estate. And this business that needed doing, this was something he could only trust her with. Others wouldn't understand. Others would have the Gaul to judge him for it- and that would leave him with the nasty business of putting them back in their place. With two hands, Marcus pushed his way through the double doors of his personal study. It was a wide, open room; one wall was lined with books that he'd prefer remain close to himself, rather than gather dust in the stacks of the empty library. The far wall was nearly entirely made of glass, draped with plum-velvet curtains and framing an exemplary view of the bay, looking west. Across from the book shelves, on the opposite wall, was a wide archway to the master bedroom, who's opening could be blocked by matching drapes that were tied aside. This wall also shared a great two-sided fire place between the study and the bedchamber, with rearing stallions carved into the stone on either side. Centered, and placed so its master could both admire the hearth as well as the view, was a grand, dark, oak desk with parchment and paper strewn abut it. There were other pieces of furniture in the study; a chaise and chairs before the fireplace, a receiving nook tucked into a corner, and a chess table silhouetted against the vast windows, but none that looked to have been in use at all, besides the desk. Marcus seemed to ignore all the fine things around him, and rather, swept into a padded oak chair at the desk, where he plucked a pen from an ink well and began busily scrawling out instructions over the blank parchment that had been waiting for him.
  8. The Sleeping Shrine A ronin on the run from a grave crime he committed in the service of the Emperor seeks a new start away from the Capital and finds himself in the remote countryside searching for work. The rural people who are weary of well dressed strangers, however, direct him deep into the mountains where a village Lord is said to be looking to hire a Samurai as a guard to his estate. The ronin, who is optimistic about the news, receives a cryptic warning from the villagers to beware the demons who walk the mountain paths and lure men in with a guise of beauty. Feeling undaunted by the tale of caution, the ronin ventures deep into the mountain where an encounter with a strange, beautiful being leaves him feeling shaken and suddenly more believing of the demons the villagers spoke of. To make things worse, soon after his arrival into the mountain village, the murder an important figure pushes the ronin into a search for the culprit that leads him into a world he wishes he'd never found existed. Main Characters The Ronin [Played By] • Name: - • Appearance: - • Personality: - • Descriptors - A man running from his past mistakes, who runs into more trouble than he ever wanted to find - Was once a court samurai in the service of the Emperor, who refused to accept a punishment he received as a result of blackmail - A very competent and skilled swordsman The White Demon/Trickster [Elphys] • Name: -Tsuyoshi • Appearance: -He is of average height, lithe, fair/pale skin and short white hair, lashes, and brows. His eyes are silver, but glow a luminescent turquoise when he becomes angry or emotionally unstable. He has black bands tattooed around his neck, wrists, and ankles that also glow turquoise when he becomes angry or unstable. • Personality: -He is shrewd, arrogant, secretive, and dismissive. He enjoys being cynical and often plays nasty tricks on the villagers, but has an air of elegance and grace to him that makes him seem approachable. He can be cruel, yet seems to wear his emotions on his sleeve • Descriptors - A mysterious being who takes an interest in the ronin - Seen as bad luck by the villagers, is blamed for the murder of the important figure - Has powerful magics greatly associated with nature and weather - Carries around a set of katana - Is left handed Secondary Characters The Feudal Lord • The man who governs the mountain village, who seeks to hire a Samurai to protect him and his estate Feudal Lord's Son • The Lord's son; a smart, competent young man Feudal Lord's Daughter • The beautiful daughter of the Lord; she is sought out by many suitors Villagers • The people of the village The Murderer • The one who murdered the important figure Yami no Kami • The God of the Mountain to whom the shrine is dedicated and the villagers worship Demons • Youkai and spirits that reside in the mountains around the village Information Seeking someone to play the ronin. I've left most of the profile open for my partner to fill in. My intention is for he and the Trickster to fall into a sort of strained friendship/attraction with one another. By no means will it happen right away, but as a general plot device I would like that to happen eventually. This is a sort of fantasy, feudal, murder mystery with a lot of dark drama and angst. I am looking to sort of steer the roleplay in the direction of the plot I intend. I have plot twists planned. As far as availability, I am a sporadic poster. Sometimes I can make several posts in a day/week and sometimes I get busy and several days will pass in between posts. I will do my best to keep my partner updated with relevant information. Post length can be variable. I'm not looking for thousands of words, nor will I put out that much on a general post, though I have no problem reading them. I prefer quality over quantity and I love dialogue. In general I am very flexible with length and content. If you are interested, let me know. I'd love to screen people's character ideas so I can find the best fit for mine. Happy posting, I can't wait to hear from you and good luck!
  9. NC-17 Above the Veil

    The hard line of a tall man stood silhouetted against the glimmering glass of the solarium. He basked in the morning sunlight, his hands clasped behind his back, feeling the unfamiliar warmth of the sun on his skin. He didn’t belong to this world of light and luxe - but he had done well to costume himself in it. His clothes were richly embroidered, tailored to fit his capable frame; his posture was one of refinement and regality. He was fair featured - more so than the blonde hair and blue eyes - but his skin, too, was pallid. Pale and flawless; Skin that didn’t know sun; Eyes that didn’t know light. There entered a slow, wary, echo of footsteps into the glittering glass-house, but the ashen gentleman did not turn to observe his host. Instead he drew in a deep breath and opened his clear blue eyes to sweep his gaze over the mountaintop island laid out below. “I trust you've familiarized yourself with my terms.†He cooed with a deep thrumming voice - still keeping his gaze on the bright island above the sea of clouds. It was not a question, but rather, an affirmation that he was growing weary of the lengthy conversation they had traded several times before. The pair who had joined him in the gilded solarium were richly adorned in all the the aristocracy had to offer. They wore on their faces matching expressions of concern and skepticism, hiding behind poorly constructed masks of false confidence. The more authoritative of the two, a plump, gluttonous man, who absentmindedly polished the face of his pocket watch, pursed his lips and cleared his throat, "Mr. Slade," he began, unable to hide the uncertainty in his tone, "I cannot stress enough my appreciation for your discretion." Slade chose that moment to turn his face toward them, shoulders and torso swinging around to follow. His expression was a perfect portrait of grace and poise, cool confidence with the slightest of smug grins itching to show itself in the curl of his mouth. "And you have it," he reassured him, pausing a moment to pierce the pair with his icy gaze- unnerving them all the more. "I understand, perfectly, the necessity of privacy, my Lord Moran. Rest assured that if you hold up your end of our arrangement- I shall quietly uphold mine." The Baron, Gabriel Moran, seemed comforted by his words and settled back a little more comfortably on his heels. Allowing himself a grateful sigh he tucked his pocket watch away and moved further into the glass room, striding with more confidence than before. "And when can we expect the delivery?" "Oh, it is on it's way as we speak, my Lord Baron," Slade said with a flash of teeth. "We can expect to receive the device within the hour, I think. Your denizens of Riverfax will no doubt sing songs of your greatness when your capabilities become known." The Baron puffed his chest out at the words, beaming at the idea. Then he paused. "And how grand do you expect those capabilities will be?" His eyes widened as a new fear made itself known, "you guarantee I'll outreach the other cities? Riverfax will be superior?" Slade stole the moment for himself, his charm never leaving the lines of his face, even for an instant, "I cannot guarantee anything that is outside my own influence," he reasoned, "what you do with the means I've sold to you is your own business, not mine. I can, however, promise that I will call to collect on the favor you owe me- and that very well can spell out your fortunes or failings." "Favor!?" Moran protested, checking his sudden outburst as his silent companion placed a concerned tap on his shoulder. "I've paid you as we agreed," the Baron continued, only just containing his offended bafflement, "in full. No favors were agreed upon." “Indeed, my Lord Baron, you have given me my asking price in Aquamarine stones, but do not think for a moment that this is everything I require.†“Unacceptable!†The Baron protested further, despite the calculating resolve in Slade’s eyes and tone, “The gem’s were yours without question, without negotiation! I paid my dues, now deliver me what was promised!†Slade stood quietly for a moment, the brilliance of the sun dazzling behind him - making his strong, dark frame smolder against the sun drenched sky. He was stoic. Calm. Collected. But there was a threatening burn behind the crystal irises of his gaze that silenced Moran, and made him suddenly feel like a petulant child. “You’ve bought yourself a wondrous power, my Lord Moran, but do you know how to wield it?†He lifted his chin ever-so-slightly, “For instruction, I require further compensation.†He lifted a hand, silencing whatever words the Baron had prepared himself to argue with, “Not gems. Favors. I am kind to my friends,†his words trailed, as though he had left the sentence unfinished. But without another syllable, Slade swept forward and brushed past the Baron and his attendant. He was gone before Moran had the time to piece himself back together. The Baron gaped at the empty doorway. “You don’t think he…†the Baron’s face turned to his attendant before his eyes could tear themselves away from Slade’s commanding and empty wake. “Threatened you, my Lord?†The attendant suggested, shaking his head slightly, but not out of doubt, “I think that man is capable of a great many things, sir… a great many unthinkable things.â€
  10. Welcome! So, I know our most recent attempt has been the mermaid storyline - and were we wanting to pick up there where we had left off? or did you have something else in mind?
  11. Introduction The Great War was over, and halfway through the 1920s America realized that it was a world power, the world power - and suddenly the steady march of mankind seemed to lurch forward with a frenzied pace as marvel after marvel swept the country and soon after the world. The automobile, the movie industry, radio, consumer goods and appliances, health and medicine... the modern world had become a beacon of light illuminating and enriching the lives of every man, woman and child. However, the brighter the light the deeper the shadow it casts, and in those shadows, foul things once-banished resurfaced and began to foment in the periphery. Demons of nightmare made flesh prowled the night, sowing the chaos on which they thrived; covens of witches and warlocks practiced and perfected the dark arts with every blasphemy and sacrifice they undertook. Vampires, faeries, succubae, ghouls, shape shifters, the undead, werewolves... all found renewed vigor as they slowly yet surely corrupted the unsuspecting mortal realm from which they had once all but disappeared. In the chaos of this modern duality of light and dark; science and magic; mankind and the supernatural - walks the druid, an entity of both worlds. Merely a man, yet the paragon of humanity, the druid is tasked with maintaining the balance between the mortal realm and the planes both above and below it. Gifted with powers to combat the dark forces of the underworld, the druid has existed in countless forms throughout the millenia - with each iteration wielding the total knowledge of his or her predecessors, along with the compounded burdens of such sacrificial service. The current iteration, John Roman has worn the druid's mantle for some decades, allowing himself to maintain an alter ego as an independently-wealthy gentleman bachelor throughout his crusade for balance between the realms. Known in some circles as a reserved, though eminently-polite, high-society gentleman, John Roman spends as little time as socially possible at the various parties and gentleman's clubs that his peers expect, preferring, it seems, to spend his time either in his expansive library or touring the world for weeks at a time. In much smaller circles it is known that Roman's library is full of occult tomes and items of which he is impressively knowledgeable, and that his frequent world tours are spent either procuring more, or alternately attending and hosting lectures on their origin and meaning. Known only to a very exclusive few, Roman is the current iteration of the druid - a magical being of unrivaled discipline and ability who uses both his innate skills and impressive collection of magical items in his battle to keep this world in balance with the other realms, both higher and lower. Although he has successfully defended the balance so far, the turn of the 20th century and the decades since have seen a great resurgence in the forces of shadows and night that even the druid cannot fully stem... The Kirpan Dagger A light drizzling rain borne by a cold wind cut through the streets of New York City. The druid wore a trilby hat that matched his gray wool overcoat, the brim of the hat fluttering against his brow as he turned down 118th. His coat trailed behind him dramatically like a pulp superhero's cape, and the echo of his black Oxfords on the pavement followed him like strafing gunfire. Despite the cold, the wind and the rain, John Roman chose to find seating outside of the small corner cafe, so that there were no unwanted ears eavesdropping on the conversation he was to have here. He took his seat, long thin body angling into the hard wire-wrought chair the cafe offered, feeling the damp of the cushion seeping into his clothing. He lit a Viceroy and was halfway through smoking it when the waitress appeared, walking with a hard look to her otherwise pleasant features, as though hoping a stern gaze would direct this wayward customer indoors. "Coffee, please," he said, crossing one leg over the other. "French-pressed. Another will be joining me shortly. Thank you," he added, excusing her with a slight gesture of his hand. He rolled up his collar, protecting his neck from the cold wind. Across the street on a public bench sat Roman's stalwart valet, Charles Henry. Although only human, Henry had seen action in the trenches of the Great War and had subsequently become something of a friend and confidant to the druid while serving as both his valet and his protector. For today's meeting Henry was required only to observe from a distance, although Roman knew that were there to be any trouble, the Webley revolver in the man's jacket pocket would be ready at a moment's notice. As his keen brown eyes crossed over his old friend, Roman gave him the barest of nods. Although settled deep within the emotionless void of the druid's mantle, Roman still felt a certain distaste at having to reach out to a clairvoyant - the purpose of today's meeting. It was certainly within his capabilities to find the man and the object that he was after - or so he assumed - and it galled him that he was reduced to 'contracting out' to a psychic. Still, he knew that he was in all likelihood being watched, and that any use of his druidic magic would only make his quarry all the harder to uncover. Despite his wounded pride, he knew that a psychic would be the surest line to his prize, provided that he could trust the man or woman that he was about to meet. He settled into his seat, and by the time his coffee arrived he had lit another cigarette as he waited. [i'm looking for someone to play as the psychic, but feel free to post as any other character if you'd rather. Perhaps an innocent, or a friend or enemy of the druid's. Thanks!]
  12. The year was 1926 and the only thing you could hear on the streets of Harlem was the ruckus being kicked up over by The Cotton Club. If anyone was anyone worth knowing in this rag tag town, you would be able to see them here. The Cotton club was a nightclub that opened up in 1924 by heavyweight boxing champion Jack Johnson, now a days the joint was run by local criminal king pin and celebrity Owney Madden. This place was ranked high on the Police's 'Prohibition Violator's list', but even though inside the booze ran free like ever flowing fountains, the corrupt cops sitting at tables next to the mobsters made sure that the smooth jazz kept coming. This place was in the heart of the theater district. The famous Apollo Theater was just down the road. There was a stammer of people trying to get inside as Cab Calloway was setting up on stage for his performance that night. The side walk was barriered off down a block on either side of the club by a flood of yellow cabs. The line of people out the door was almost a hundred long and none of them seemed to be complaining about the wait. The women were wearing the latest fashions, short jackets lined with fox fur covering up their flapper dresses, matching cloche hats covering up their finger curls. The men were dressed to the nines in swell suits, they formed a sea of black pinstripes. When you were lucky enough to get a glimpse inside this place might as well be a visual representation of New York City's most wanted. It was lively and ritzy looking, a preshow band was playing up on the big stage as the tables were filling up quick. The more important crowd was closer to the back in fenced off private tables. That was where Jeanie worked. She was one of the waitresses for the private tables. Her job was to keep the Rag- a - muffins and riff raff away from these tables, unless she was instructed otherwise by an owner. It was a good job and she normally made a lot of jack money by the end of the night. Some of the really bad criminals gave her the heebie - jeevies, but she wasn't complaining. Jeanie was behind the bar filling up her tray with drinks when she heard a voice behind her. "Jeanie May Greenwald, that table has been expecting their drinks for twenty minutes now! I expect you to be hitting on all sixes tonight, were gonna be a packed house!" Her supervisor stood behind her as she looked back over her shoulder with a shy smile. "Sorry Jimmy, I'm going as fast as I can." Jeanie flashed those pearly whites and batted her long eye lashes at him. He shook his head with a smile and just waved his hand at her. "Alright Dame, just pull it together." With that he walked away to go see how Cab Calloway's band was doing with set up. Jeanie wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "Phew-!" She said in relief. Her tray all filled she made her way across the back of the club. Jeanie was wearing the Cotton Club waitress uniform, which was more of a showgirl outfit. Black leotard covered in clear rhinestones with a short black flapper skirt. The tassels covered her when she was standing still, but when she moved they swayed from side to side showing some skin. She held her tray up like a statue above all the people bustling by her making their way to their seats or the bar. There was a wide proud grin on her face, bright big green eyes glistening at any Daddy who would take notice and glance at her. Her short blonde hair bounced as she sauntered her hips from side to side with every step. Her bangs were in perfect finger curls on her forehead and a decorative black sequin head band stretched around holding her holding three red feathers on the left side of her head. Finally Jeanie made it over to the table that was awaiting their drinks. There were three grumpy looking men with their fedoras turned down to cover their faces a bit. None of them looked up at her as she approached the table, but a fourth man, clearly the one with all the cash indeed did greet her. His hair was slicked back and he wore a grin that gripped his fat cigar. "Why hello Sweetheart. Are those the drinks me and my boys ordered?" There was something about his personality that just made you want to like him. To Jeanie that meant he was trouble. "Why they sure are Mister!" She said with a bit of a sway to her hip. She then put down all the drinks on the table. Suddenly the lights in the club began to dim and an announcer came up to the podium up front on stage. There was a spot light on this charming man who Jeanie knew to be Herman Stark the stage manager for the club. "Hello Ladies and Gentlemen, Well I won't waste your time talking. Just wanted to give a big thank you to Mr. Madden for humbly inviting all of us to this Joint for a night of fun!" With that there was rouse of applause, but it quickly died down as Herman continued. "Now without further ado, I am proud to introduce, the one, the only, Cab Calloway!" There was a roar of sound caused by applause from the crowd. Jeanie simply nodded to the men who were now much more interested in the stage up front than her. "If I can do anything for you boys, just holler!" She said before walking away to take care of some other orders from the tables in her area.
  13. Hi I started this rp in the Student section. pretty straight forward; Setting: 1926 Cotton Club in Harlem, NYC Not really planning any specific plot yet, feel free to make up a character or play a real historical figure - mobster, police, singer, anyone If you have any questions post them here. For a little bit of help you can look up 1920's lingo here: http://local.aaca.org/bntc/slang/slang.htm