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1 Playground of the Omniverse IC on Wed Oct 09, 2013 11:02 pm

Rhaevnn Xeno

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Wait! Before you post, look here.
~+-+-+~

[10 Weeks Ago]:


Turmoil has been rising among The Crossroads - power has been dwindling among the High Council and crumbling the very fabric of Tutmose's being. However, the stage has not been set, the masters still hiding in the darkness, their puppets dancing on their strings, willingly or unwillingly moving the pieces in the game for power.

A newly formed vampire family escapes the clutches of the Tower, avoiding a certain death. While a dark vow and terrible curse bought the price of freedom for the pair, it left an uncertain future for them...

A pair of destined lovers wandered the labyrinth of The Lows, uncertain in footing but seeking spontaneous adventure all the same. A guide found and lost, a pique of interest followed and all to a dragon guarding its trove...

A humble monk abandoned by fate but rescued by a High princess. A favor asked, but fate saw it fit for the monk to abandon his mission...

A thief and assassin meet an ancient king, and a duel of proof was conducted. Artifacts wanted, valuables demanded. The reasoning behind such madness could not be told, but only followed. However, chains could not hold and thief was left alone once more...


~In the Beginning~

[Now]

The High Time had come across Tutmose, shadows chased away by the blazing pair of suns that hung equally in the Crossroads' sky, casting their merciless heat and light upon The Lows. Most would want to hide indoors, unless job or want demanded otherwise, but the two realities of the Lows were always clear: The Lows never slept and The Lows always stirred. Masses of people still walked in the regular bustle of a city, creature and being making its way on whatever task they had given themselves under the scorching heat that baked the boardwalks and muddied streets of The Lows. As usual, the usual low rumble that usually hung in the air at all times was suddenly interrupted by a harsh crash, a scream of horses, and the yelling of the two drivers that had collided - the sounds he woke up to.

With an audible, anguished groan, Gerald Clockwerk rose from his back to a sitting position, his robotic movements echoing the declaration of pain. "Unnnngh." He muttered darkly as a gloved hand rose to his forehead, pushing past long bangs as he staggered to his feet, papers, cans, and other various pieces of garbage falling off him with rustlings and odd clunks. "Bloody hell…" Still holding his head, Gerald leaned against the ally wall his other hand, seeing what the commotion was beyond the darkness of the ally. The drivers were now standing nose to nose, still arguing, a small crowd starting to gather. Dismissing the sight with a huff, he attempted to push himself off the wall. He was successful and began to stagger out of the ally. However, three steps away from the wall, and he found himself back on the ground in dramatic fashion, toppling into the mud and filth. 'Wonderful.' Slowly rising to one knee, Gerald crawled to the wall, where he promptly sat amongst the crumpled paper, smashed boxes, and other junk. Wiping the muck off his face with pristine fingertips, he glanced at the offending substance with a raised eyebrow, mentally commenting as a frown of displeasure stretched across his face, 'Well, now that I'm made love the underbelly of The Lows…' A disgusted look came across his face as he reached into the inside of his shirt, only to pull out a wet piece of cardboard as he continued, 'I believe it is time to…' He threw it across the ally, slowly, painfully rising to his feet, 'acquire some grub from my favorite local.'

Balancing himself against the ally wall, Gerald managed to stagger out of the ally, though collided headlong into a pedestrian. With a  disgusted squeal, the woman looked at where Gerald had accidentally brushed off some of his stench and slime onto her cloak and dress, courtesy of the alley. However, always the gentleman, the dirty thief removed his hat with a graceful arc of his coated arm and bent at the waist. "My deepest apologies, miss. You see I--" With that, a pile of slime that somehow had managed to collect at the top of his hat slipped from its black hide and onto the shoes of the woman. A screech and a stinging cheek later, Gerald found himself stalking down the dirtied boardwalk, muttering under his breath as strode forward, "The nerve. I was merely only trying to apologize...daft wench."

Luckily, Gerald's destination was not too far. Two blocks later, Gerald mood had improved as he looked at masterfully carved signed, its dark mahogany hide showing the picture of a boar and the words "Old Boar Inn." Humming a song, the time traveler stepped through it's tall saloon doors with his sneakered feet, familiar sights and sounds hitting him like a ten-foot wave.



Last edited by Rhaevnn Xeno on Thu Jan 16, 2014 7:33 am; edited 4 times in total

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Fitz

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"C'mon Ganti! It'll be fun!" Fitz looked at his wife. Her expression wasn't any different than when he had first put forth the idea. "Fitz, what are we going to do with Hal? Remember we have a kid now?" Ganti said. "We can't leave him by my dad's any more!" Fitz was shocked. "Sure we can! Aren't grandparents just glorified babysitters?" "Fitz is right Ganti." Halcyon whispered into her ear. "Ack! Fitz get it away!!" Ganti shrieked and fell back. "He can't touch you, remember?" Fitz said, "He's just a soul. And mine, at that." It's still creepy..." Ganti muttered avoiding eye contact. Fitz looked at Halcyon floating by his side and then over to Ganti. "Okay. How about for just a day?" Fitz persisted. "It'll be good training for me! And you!" Ganti was too exasperated to fight anymore. "Ugh... Fine. ONE day though." Fitz and Halcyon's faces brightened. "Yes!" exclaimed Fitz as he ran off. "Bring Hal over to your dad's while I get ready!" "And make it snappy!" Halycon added as he dispersed back into Fitz's body. "Fitz, wait!" Ganti shouted, but it was too late; he was already out of the room.

"I can't believe it! I finally can get some practice in!" Fitz thought to himself. It had been 4 years since his spat with Halcyon, and he had been craving a challenge for some time. "What dimension do you think we should go to Halcyon?" He asked his second soul. "Somewhere that I can run rampant." Halcyon snickered. "Somewhere with fine women with large breasts and strong enemies." "Ugh... Too much information man... And you can't go doing that with my body! I'm married now, remember!" Fitz thought what Ganti would do to him if Halcyon did that and shuddered "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." Halcyon rolled his eyes "Fitz, we are a god. We can take Hell's so called 'fury' and stick our di-" "ENOUGH!" Fitz shouted. They had gotten back to his room. He stood there for a few seconds. "Umm... Don't we have everything we need already?" He asked Halcyon. "Yup." Well then why didn't you stop me? We just wasted like 5 minutes!" Halcyon shrugged his shoulders. "Worthless..." Fitz muttered...

Fitz met up with Ganti in the middle of the market. Gaudete had met up with Ganti and was waiting with her. "Hey baby." Halcyon greeted Gaudete. She ignored him. "Fitz, are you sure you want to do this? Dimension jumping is risky." "Of course Gaudete! We'll be fine!" Fitz defended his idea. "Where are we even going?" Ganti asked. "This place called Fiore. It is known to have extremely powerful mages, dragons, and large breasts" Halcyon cackled. Fitz facepalmed. "But we're only going for the mages and the dragons, right?" Halcyon got a devilish smile "Of coooourse..." Gaudete sighed. Her uncle was too much sometimes. Fitz equipped the Sword of the Hero. It glistened as the shadow aura coursed around it. "Ready?" Fitz asked? They all nodded. He turned to his second soul "Ok Halcyon. Give it to me."

Fitz began to power up. His hair waved rapidly and aura began to surround him. As Halcyon began to give more and more power into his body, the shadow aura that surrounded him flared up. He let out a shout; "Lets go!!!!", then drew his sword back and swung. The blade cut through time-space, opening up the new dimension, and the four were sucked out of Invot and into the rip.

"AHHHH!!" Fitz yelled as he fell through the other side. He hit the ground hard. They were in the middle of a pretty rundown town. As he struggled to get up, Ganti and Gaudete came tumbling through, falling on top of him. Fitz sighed. He was always on bottom. "Thanks for the cushion." Gaudete said. She shook herself off and transformed into her usual blue ball of light. Ganti looked up at the building next to them. "The Old Boar Inn. Sounds sketch." Fitz looked up also. "An inn. Perfect! All the strong guys go to inns! C'mon!" and ran through the door. Gaudete snickered. "I haven't seen him this giddy since our first adventure." Ganti sighed. "I just hope we're in the right place." And she pushed through the door.

3 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Sat Oct 12, 2013 10:27 pm

Rhaevnn Xeno

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~In the Beginning~

The Lows
[Fitz & Co.]

Those who resided in The Crossroads were used to the appearance of newcomers - after all, they poured in by the dozen daily, always coming and never seeming to leave. However, no matter how much they were used to it, sudden appearances were always so... startling.

Upon the arrival of Fitz and Co, they practically collided with the coming and going of customers from the Old Boar's Inn. In fact, Fitz would find himself at the bottom of a rather sizable pile, familiar faces tangled with angry or shocked faces. Dark mutterings and even a curse or two spat at either Ganti, Gaudette, or Fitz:

"Watch where you're going, you bastard!"
"Always the newcomers that have to make giant scene..."
"Why I outta stab...then rip off..."

Luckily, it seemed that many were too busy or annoyed to actually make a stand against such a unified party, especially when Gaudette unknowingly gave a display of her magics. The small tangle quickly dispersed, leaving Fitz and Co. to enter the inn...

====
Old Boar's Inn
====

Ganti's worries would be quickly dismissed as they all entered through the tall, saloon doors of the Old Boar's Inn - the place could not have been anything but an inn. But, then again, could it? The sheer size of the room and noise would be unlike anything they had ever seen. It would almost seem as if an old west saloon would be before them, with numerous wooden tables and chair before them and leather furbished booths hugged the walls. All seating would be crowded with all manner of creature, alien, and being, servers hurridly making their way through the sea of people. Bodies walked this way and that, some bowing their heads to avoid the thick, solid rafters above everyone's head, some ducking under tall legs in attempt to avoid being trodden upon. The dull roar that would have washed over them upon taking the first step onto the polished, yet well-worn wooden floors now seemed to echo from all directions, laughter and all manner of babble hitting their ears. The smell of cigar, cheap perfume, and musk would be intoxicating, sickly sweet, and almost seemingly calling them further into the establishment.

However, this was not even the beginning, nor would it ever be the end. The inn seemed timeless, ancient. It is possible that Fitz or anyone that stepped through the establishment's doors would feel that this place held nooks and crannies that could never be fully explored - it seemed it would take years to truly know this place. However, even with all these sensory overloads, beyond the sea of patron and furniture, the true gem of the presentation of the Old Boar's Inn would be the bar counter. But this was no ordinary surface for customer and drink - it seemed to be just as mysterious and magical as the inn itself. Even from his vantage point, it would be practically impossible not to notice the amount of craftsmanship that had been poured into it. The countertop seemed to be made of blackest glass, gleaming like a dark flame in the inn's dim light provided by lantern or candle. However, any more detail would be halted, as the group would not be able to hang in the doorway for long. The stream of customers would be steady at its slowest and Fitz and Co. would be forced forward or outside.

If they managed to stay inside, something would become more apparent with every step. The more the group would look, the inn seemed to only have been built with the finest materials - the floors were a deeply colored oak, the furniture made of cherrywood, the rafters of the strongest cedar. No, this building had built at every expense and had to be owned by the richest of men in this world.

Once away from the door's threshold, choices could be made: to the left, a homely, wide staircase, ramping up a wall and disappearing in the depths of a second floor. To the right, the jeers were mingling with the sound of a dancing piano - smoke was thick and explosion of cards from a table with angry voices following gave signs of a game of fate. To the center, behind the counter, the bartender eyed the new group with a lazy interest.

If Fitz and Co. decided to meander their way up to the bar and on to the bar seats the boar would pick up a glass yager and begin polishing it, grunting a question in the direction of the trench coated man, "What's yer drink?" The lazy gaze glanced over Fitz, as if it were piercing directly into his soul...



Last edited by Rhaevnn Xeno on Thu Jan 16, 2014 7:34 am; edited 3 times in total

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4 time to get pumped on Sat Oct 12, 2013 11:55 pm

honeybadger


It was a normal summer day in the greatest state, NJ, and Les Guid was at his favorite place in the world, Retro Fitness, with his favorite person, himself. Having forsaken the tutelage of Dom Mazzetti years ago, Guid was trying to make a living as a part time DJ and gigolo. So on this particular day he is in the gym, doing curl after curl as he struggles to achieve that luscious pump, the only way to gain his daily dose of self esteem. Sweating, grunting, groaning and climaxing, he transcended into the sweet, tight pain of the pump and decided to go walk his swagger down the boardwalk. Seeing a group of girls who are of debatably legal age, Les Guid heads over to use his new found confidence to mac it up.

2 hours later, Les Guid is staggering around the boardwalk trying overcome his sadness at being rejected. He could'nt understand it, he had done all the right things: flexed provocatively, mildly insulted them, flexed a bit more... all proven to work. To feel better he decided to go to his favorite place besides the gym, the tanning salon. Going into the warm embrace of the tanning bed, he fell off to sleep and dreamed of a better body, a body that wouldn't make girls reject him...

Waking up 32 hours later, Les Guid emerged from the tanning bed, his skin steaming sligtly, and looked out upon an entirely new world.

5 The Boar on Sun Oct 13, 2013 1:03 am

Fitz

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Fitz pulled himself out of the pile, and muttered a few curses. He brushed his jacket off. Always on bottom... he thought to himself. Fitz looked around; he had seen some strange stuff in Invot, but this was advanced odd. There was a weird steampunk character in the corner, looking like he was trying too hard to be classy. There was a giant crowd of people that were obviously drunk. The air was think with smoke and the smell of alcohol. The barkeep was another matter; why was a boar wearing a kilt? How was it standing on its two legs? He looked strong though. Might be a good sparring partner in the future. But still, that boar head... Fitz shook his head. "Fiore is so weird..." Taking a few steps forward, he could feel the eyes of quite a few people boring into his back; judging the way he stood, walked, breathed, like they were trying to decide if he would be missed if he disappeared in the night. Fitz walked up to boar-dude, keeping Ganti close to him. "What's yer drink?" The boar-man asked. Fitz eyed him up; he felt the boar eyes staring into his soul, which one? Fitz had no idea. But he knew he could use a drink and Fitz knew that he had to act his manliest to impress him, of course without going to crazy. Pulling the only drink name he remembered from his days back in Jersey out of his ass, he said "Ahh, I'll some jaeger. And a room for the night."



Last edited by Fitz on Sun Oct 13, 2013 1:59 am; edited 2 times in total

6 BearMan on Sun Oct 13, 2013 1:51 am

BadgerOfHoney


BearMan is confused. That's fine, he is confused often. He was wandering in the woods, just doing his thing, when suddenly a large, tan man wearing a thong and tanning goggles appeared in front of him. Thant is OK, BearMan likes them tan. At least, he thinks he does. BearMan is sexually confused a lot of the time. BearMan wonders what to do next. His mating urges say make little bears with this stranger, but he has learned by now that that is not always the best thing to do. BearMan recalls last time he tried to mate with a stranger. He shudders. Swords hurt BearMan. BearMan does not like being hurt. Luckily for BearMan, he does not stay hurt. His hurts are healed very quickly, ever since mean wizard Obamo experimented on him. He shudders again. BearMan does not like Obamo. He is a mean person. That makes BearMan ponder, or as close as he can to ponder: Is BearMan a person? Or a Bear? BearMan was raised by Bear. But he does not look like Bear, or walk like Bear. He supposes he is a person, but BearMan does not know how to be a person, only a Bear. So if BearMan can only be a bear, does that make him a Bear...? "urrrrr!" he moans. Thinking like this gives BearMan headaches. He wonders if he should try talking to this stranger, using a mixture of idiot-level human language and desperate hand signals. No, BearMan decides. Best to wait for him to pass and continue looking for a place to sleep the night. He itches himself in his human clothes, which are so uncomfortable compared to living like a bear, but he knows it is better to dress like a human than be free and wild. BearMan recalls last time he was free and wild in a human town. He shudders. Swords really do hurt. Bearman continues on his way, ignoring the half-naked tan man in the woods.

7 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Sun Oct 13, 2013 3:50 am

Rhaevnn Xeno

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Old Boar's Inn
Fitz & Co.

The bartender nodded, clapping the glass on the counter top, and turned his back to Fitz as he began to pour the drink. A loud grunt issued from his snout, in a way that would be hard to tell if he was angry or amused - regardless it was recognition. "How long you planning on staying?" The boar's voice rumbled like gravel over stone, deep and rough. A shot glass slid across the shining bar, its black surface reflecting Fitz's face as clearly as a mirror. The boar looked like he was going to continue, but just then, a woman pushed past Fitz and Co. and leaned up against the glass--no stone surface of the bar.

"Baht, ah need budweizahs and a skawtch on the rahks." Long lashes flickered as she eyed Fitz up and down before flashing a smile, pointy canines revealed as she attempted to cuddle up next to Fitz, speaking to him as she set down her serving tray on the bar's surface, "Ay sweetie, what's yo' name?" She was only slightly shorter than Fitz, her blonde hair almost glowing under the low light of the Old Boar's Inn.

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8 Enter: The story Master on Mon Oct 14, 2013 1:11 am

Pajamas

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When he recovered his senses he found himself standing in the middle of an open dry grassy plain. He had stood in this exact spot four times before. He knew where he was from the massive dark structure on the horizon; he knew it was the city of Tutmose. The Story Master had returned to the Crossroads. Sighing he looked down at the girl who had collapsed after their teleport. There was a small pool of blood next to her, she vomited but there was nothing in her stomach. The crimson pool accented her red hair in the bright High Time light and made her pasty skin look much more pale. He shuddered to think what those demons had had in store for the poor girl. Why the amulet led him to her he could not even imagine, the thing had a mind of its own, but the crossroads would be as good a place as any to try to find her some help.

He removed his top hat and searched his many pockets until he found a small silver whistle engraved with swirling patterns. Inhaling sharply he blew into it without a sound. Suddenly a small blue flame lit at the whistles' end, the flame flew several feet before him and settled in the dry grass. Quickly the brilliant blue flame grew, fueled by a beautiful and unseen magic. The flame built into a raging fire dancing this way and that. Once the fire reached a height of about ten feet or so, a massive black paw stepped forth from within the flame; a snout followed and soon a huge black beast stood towering over him.

The beast was magnificent. Fur blacker than midnight with a blue sheen in the day’s light, eyes yellow and wild, standing about nine feet tall to the top of its head the beast resembled an unbelievably large fox. As the animal emerged completely from the fire the flames vanished. The foxy creature leaned forward and stretched the girth of its powerful legs and from the tip of its nose a new blue light started to engulf its body until it reached its immense tail. The light was similar to the flame but it glowed and resembled magic more than it did flame. Fully lit the beast moved fluidly right in front him and pressed its forehead affectionately on his. With both hands he reached up through the blue light and grabbed the beast’s very large head and rubbed its huge cheeks. The beast responded with a pleasant humming noise from deep within its throat.

He looked down at the girl and back at the beast, who in response then knelt down. He reached into another pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and cleaned the blood off the girl’s face. Then he gathered her limp body and climbed carefully onto the beast’s massive back. Turning toward Tutmose the beast took off running, gaining speed until the grass and clouds blurred past and dust billowed behind them. With each powerful tread a melodious note rang out...

9 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Mon Oct 14, 2013 4:38 am

Rhaevnn Xeno

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~In The Beginning~

The WildWood
[Locien/The Story Master]

Locien sighed heavily. Wandering in The Wildwood were always so tedious, regardless of who he came across or what sights he managed to find, walking from point "a" to point "b" was always a nuisance. Or maybe nuisance was too light of a word; after all, The Wildwood is a dangerous region at best. Locien chuckled at himself, chiding his inner thoughts as he did, 'Walking. Heh, that's funny.'

His right leg dragged ever so slightly behind his left leg, keeping his drunken form moving across the never-ending field, towards the giant shadow of Tutmose that lay before the elvish bard. 'Walking. When's the last time I did that?' Locien's left hand pushed his cittern that was clunking against left hip to its proper position against his back as the same hand grabbed the wineskin; the liquid holding skin had been hiding under the instrument. Uncorking the skin, the elf sucked some of the sweet, but warm wine from its belly. A sly smile creeped across half of his face, as his right hand wiped droplets from his lips, continuing his inner conversation with himself, 'I think it was the last time I haven't had booze.' A clever chuckle rose in his throat - self amusement was always the best. Locien looked to the sky before him - one thing about traveling in the Wildwood is was never truly dark, as the suns never truly left the sky during the evenings, their light bleeding into the sky in a dark, strange underglow. 'Heh. They never want to leave their babe.'

However, before Locien could think of anything else to amuse himself with, a loud explosion sounded behind him, causing his hatted head to snap back its source with a jingle of bells - such signs of power should always be heeded in The Wildwood. Whoever had done it, he must have been powerful - the blue streak of what appeared to be electricity or fire (Locien couldn't tell) skyrocketed like a flare; it would be a practical signal for miles around. But as quickly as it had appeared, it would disappear into nothing. However, the usual sounds of Crossroad's small wildlight was gone, leaving an eerie feeling in the air. Locien slowly turned back to his task, amused smile gone as his senses heightened. He would have to careful for the rest of the day. Arrivals were not uncommon in The Crossroads, and if someone had arrived with such power... things could end badly, because: 'Whatever it was, it was definitely magic.'

Locien continued on his way, frequently checking his back. For fifteen minutes, nothing had changed of great significance. But then it happened. Upon turning around for tenth time, Locien saw it on the horizon, a blue flare rapidly approaching him, and it was traveling at an astonishing speed, or so said the pillar of dust that followed in its wake. But one question was on Locien's mind, "Friend or foe?" The elf muttered darkly, a hand slowly reaching to his belt under his flowing shirt. A fore grip of a weapon was found and firmly grasped. There was no chance for hiding - in an open field? Impossible, especially since the odds that Locien had not been spotted were extremely low.

But something was odd. As the "flame" or whatever it was came closer and closer, something was becoming more and more clear. 'Is... is that music?' But it was, the tempo very slow, as if played in slow motion or as if its musician was attempting to play at a lazy walk. Regardless, the hand let go of the weapon and reached for his cittern. If it was playing music, why not him as well? 'Hopefully, its a music lover and will give me a favor... or at least not kill me.' Locien thought with a crafty smile, fingers now plucking at its strings in a song and would continue to play it over and over until the possible threat or whatever it was to reach his own music, the music becoming amplified and sweeter with each note - it may become something entrancing or curious to a particular individual if heard correctly.

If the streak of fire didn't kill him straight off or slowed, Locien would stop playing at a final chord and would take a fluid bow with a sweep of his hand, calling out in a playful manner as he did, "Hail friend! Beautiful day for a walk, yes?" Locien would recover from his bow but not without looking up with a foolish grin as he stood upright once more.

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10 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Tue Oct 15, 2013 3:07 am

Pajamas

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Lurker
Lurker
Dried ground blurred far below where he sat holding the girl fast on the animals back, that she might not suffer any additional unnecessary trauma. Each massive paw left a blackened print where the heat of the burning light scorched the ground beneath. The story master looked down at the girl. They had to hurry, there was nothing he could do for her and they were far from any help.
They had traveled not even twenty minutes at full speed when he noticed that they were approaching someone or something on the horizon. He knew that anyone bold enough to brave the wilds outside the walls of Tutmose would be capable and dangerous. Tutmose’s walls were imposing for a reason and any being that lived more than ten minutes beyond their protection would be too powerful to ignore. They were in dire straits and the girl needed medical attention, but he would put her in less danger by cautiously confronting who or whatever it was than if the charged forward and ran the risk of being attacked from behind.
As they came ever closer he could see that it was someone rather than something. Based on his ostentatious attire and the instrument on in hand, The Story Master gathered he was a bard of sorts. The great fox slowed ahead of time in consideration of its speed. When they were within earshot a beautiful melody could be heard ringing out loudly from the bard’s instrument. The sound made the massive beast uncomfortable noticeably irritated.
Not willing to wait for formalities in the current situation The Story Master interrupted the song. “Hail there bard!” cried The Story Master impatiently from his place atop the great black fox. “Bold of any man to stand in the way of grown lyre-fox but more so when said beast is stirring at full pace. What say you sir?”

11 The Problem with Souls on Tue Oct 15, 2013 7:07 pm

Fitz

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The boar-man grunted. At least I got a response. Fitz thought. Boar-man set the shot glass he had been polishing on the table and began to pour the yellow liquor into it. "How long you planning on staying?" He said. It sounds like he's been gargling marbles. Halcyon thought to Fitz. I have to agree with you. Fitz thought back. It was unnaturally rough. But then again, he was half boar; there was no telling how his vocal cords worked. He slid the glass across the bar. Fitz was just about to reach out for it when he felt something push up against him.

"Baht, ah need budweizahs and a skawtch on the rahks." Fitz turned to the source of the voice. It was an an attractive young lady. She flashed him a smile; "Ay sweetie, what's yo' name?" Fitz turned red. "Um... It's Fitz..." This was a problem. He turned over to Ganti. Her arms were crossed and he could have sworn he saw flames in her eyes. Gaudete was floating next to her; Fitz knew if she was in her human form she would be shaking her head. Then Fitz remembered a very serious problem. He turned to the boar-man and hurridley said "Just one night, please!" and placed a bag of gold on the table. Fitz turned away from the counter top and began to walk in a fast pace in the other direction, but it was too late.

Fitz halted as he felt Shadow Aura began to seep from his back, floating to the ceiling like smoke. Great. He saw her... Fitz thought. I wonder what he's gonna do this time?. Then Halcyon burst out like a cannon from Fitz's back. Laughing maniacally, he flared his hair so that it consumed most of the area above Fitz's head. Fitz felt the heat on his scalp, figuring Halcyon would pull something like this. Fitz turned around and looked up at Halcyon. His attempt at flirting was normal for Fitz. It would be easy enough to get him away; all he had to do was walk far enough away. But whenever he did this, Halcyon would do his best to make Fitz's life as terrible as he could. Only for an hour, but they were always tough hours. Halcyon would seep so much power into Fitz's body that it would feel like it would rip apart.

So Fitz just usually took to letting Halcyon have his fun, but this time it was different. He was in the middle of a crowded bar. He had no idea how any of them would react; probably fine, since he figured Fiore had plenty of mages walking around doing stuff like this. "Please excuse my friend." Halcyon said as he floated closer to the bar, making himself as powerful looking as a soul could. "It is usual for him. He has no respect for beautiful woman." "HEY!" Fitz shouted. He walked up to Halcyon, eyes narrowed with anger. Shadow aura began to leak from his arms as his anger grew. "That's enough" he growled at Halcyon. Halcyon shot him an angry stare back. You could almost cut the tension between the two.



Last edited by Fitz on Fri Feb 14, 2014 12:03 am; edited 1 time in total

12 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Wed Oct 16, 2013 4:14 pm

Rhaevnn Xeno

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~In the Beginning~


The Lows
The Old Boar's Inn

[Fitz & Co./Gerald Clockwerk]

As Fitz's face turned red, a not-so-innocent giggle rippled through the air. The woman would attempt to drag a finger across his chest, the blood red nail polish evident as she spoke in the most flirtatious of voices, "Fitz, ay? A strong name fo' a strong main…" A look of surprise would come across her face as Fitz dropped the sack of gold and fled the bar counter. She would make to reach for the gold, but the boar's gnarly hands collapsed around the pouch like a cage, his one eye looking at the woman's. " 'Ansome one, ain't he?" She would remark as she gave a small wave to Ganti.

However, this was not the end. A sudden surge of power made some in the close proximity to gasp or give a drunken yelp of surprise. The woman watched cooly as Halcyon made his move, "Please excuse my friend, it is usual for him. He has no respect for beautiful woman." Another pleased giggle came from the waitress, a hand up to her mouth in a mock shy gesture. But, before she could respond, a loud yell sounded through the inn.

"HEY!"

Suddenly, all noise in the inn had ceased to exist; even the piano's musical voice had halted. All eyes were on the pair, a terrible tension hanging in the air. Violence was creeping up and if not handled, the entire inn could erupt in one giant free for all. Such an event was no uncommon - after all, this place was full of drunkards, the lost, and the wanting. All souls wanted something, and more than often it was to return to home, and thus they waited behind these walls for a miracle to happen.

But even amidst this highly sensitive situation, something odd happened. Where he had come from, no one would know, but somewhere between the stare off and what would follow, a top hatted man would accidentally bump into Fitz. The action would be rough enough to get his attention, but definitely not aggressive enough to be taken as an action of combat. If the hateful glance of either soul would direct their soul burning gaze to the odd man, his purple eyes would slightly widen and with a twitch of his mustache, he would mutter something between, " 'Cuse me" and "My sincerest apologies, old chap."

Before either could respond, two soft hands, one for each man's shoulder, would be in direct contact with either soul, "Boys, boys, can't we just git along?" The woman would be back, a winning smile on her face, but fright in her eyes. She would look from one to the other, continuing to talk as she did, "Aftah all, Ah do need to show you to yo' ruem." Not waiting for a response, she started walking in a direction beyond the bar and towards an archway that was not five feet from the left side of the black counter top, her skirt's hemline mimicking the movements of her hourglass figure. If they hesitated, she would half turn her body, her head echoing the stance as she would call out, "You boys coming?"

If they followed, the archway would be a gate to a long hall, with at least a dozen doors lining either side of the red carpeted aisle. She would continue to walk until she had reached the appropriate door. Then, she pull a key from her skirt's pocket, open the door, peek inside and then beckon Fitz and Co. "It yo's fo' a day." Walking into the spacious, cozy room. A fireplace roared, its flames a pale blue and green mixture. A fine table sat before it, with four large cushions around it. Beyond that were bunks in all shapes and sizes, four in total. A hammock was to the left of the fire place, large enough for easily two people, maybe even a third. Various pieces of furniture were scattered amongst the places of sleeping: a few small nightstands, a comfortable looking arm chair with a foot rest, and a coat rack that had hands at the end of each rung. "Bay the old boah's standards, that means yo' boys have twenty-fo' owahs." She cast a wink at Halcyon, puckering her lips before making her leave, calling over her shoulder as the door closed, "Welcome to the Old Boah's Een."

But, if things did not end up as peacefully as fate had hoped, whoever swung first, it would not matter. Any sign of violence between either soul, and the next legendary bar fight would begin in the Old Boar's Inn...

+=+=+

The Wildwood; West
[TSM/Tara Zhang/Locien]

The draft that would have followed the lyre fox's speed would quickly come rushing over both bard and story teller as the beast halted, Locien's tassels and hair mimicking the plain's grass it flew back momentarily. A slight cough issued from Locien's mouth as he recovered from the dust that had come with the wind. In the under glow's light, Locien quickly deciphered the man. Clearly a man of taste, due to the well-placed dress, Locien could only assume a few things about the man before him. The clean shaven man was at least from The Middles, though his stature and poise could place him higher. This, of course, was assuming that this man was a permanent resident or a frequent visitor of The Crossroads. He did not hold the usual nervous or intimidated look that most visitors have when arriving…

"Hail there, bard!"

His voice interrupted Locien's own musings, which caused the bard to smile as the cittern slid back into its usual position behind the elf's back - whatever the creature was, it did not like the tune that had been played, which was noted as unusual. "Bold of any man to stand in the way of a grown lyre-fox, but more so when said beast is stirring at full pace. What say you sir?" The question tickled and caused Locien to burst forth a hearty laugh ad answer in an equally friendly manner. "Boldness may easily be mistaken as foolishness, mate. As fair or dangerous a creature that it might be, I have yet to make any familiarity with its kind." A questioning gesture came from Locien's right hand, as if asking permission to approach throne. If granted, the bard would approach the creature, genuine curiosity expressed on his lazy face. "Beautiful." Locien would murmur as he redirected his attention the man… and then to the person that he was so carefully holding on the creature's back. A brow would quirk momentarily, but it would take a trained eye to notice such a fast change in expression for it to be noticed.

Casting his glance from the dark shadow of Tutmose and then to the fox-riding man, one thing was evident - they were in a hurry and would be gone for long… and Locien was not one to pass up an opportunity. Locien immediately posed a question, direct as the one given to him not moments ago. "I say, if it's not too much trouble friend, perhaps we could keep each other company for the next few moments? With a beast such as swift and large as yours, I'm sure it would not be too much trouble…" His voice drifted off, waiting for the man's response...

http://goinghobbitstyle.tumblr.com/

13 Conflicted on Fri Oct 18, 2013 10:08 pm

Pajamas

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“It is wise of a man to point out his own folly, but I will assure you that this beast and its kind are not forgiving to those who would underestimate them.” The Story Master was not willing to believe that the bard was completely unaware of the threat that the lyre-fox was and he worried that the bard was more dangerous then he seemed. He was anxious, the more time they wasted the worse it could be for the girl limp in his arms.
The strange bard put forth his hand in a gesture implying that he would like to approach the animal with permission. Reluctantly The Story Master nodded and said “At your own risk.”
The silly bard reached closer to the lyre-fox and tried to touch it massive snout. However before his hand made contact he pulled it away quickly, while loosing a sound of pain. The blue light scorched the bard’s hand, bent by the will of the animal.
Curious and tense for the bard’s reaction The Story Master, was watched him intently. When the bard only calmly smiled after the shock faded he was both surprised and relieved. “I did warn you sir,” he said with a smirk.
Disregarding the incident the Bard muttered, “Beautiful…” Then he boldly posed a question, "I say, if it's not too much trouble friend, perhaps we could keep each other company for the next few moments? With a beast such as swift and large as yours, I'm sure it would not be too much trouble…"
Confused and frustrated by the urgency he felt, The Story Master didn’t know what to think. This bard could be dangerous but it sounded like he wanted a ride to Tutmose. This was a risk. If he obliged the Bard and traveled with him it would slow them down and the potential danger he represented would be literally right next to him and the girl. If this man before him was a threat and he denied his request then it could turn out worse if he attacked them.
“If you are asking for favor of a ride, surely you are aware of the inherent hazard that would put me in. Were I traveling alone I would not hesitate to help, but my companion here is in need of serious and urgent medical attention. And no doubt any being traveling alone this deep in the wilds beyond the wall would be danger to any other.” Gesturing toward the beast he continued, “Also my friend is clearly not very fond of you.”

14 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Sat Oct 19, 2013 4:56 pm

Rhaevnn Xeno

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~In the Beginning~

The WildWood; West
[TSM/Tara/Locien]

Between bard and story teller, a pause would hold in the air for a brief. The sounds of the small wildlife occasionally as the bard mulled over The Story Master's words, sucking on his burnt fingertips as he did. A stern line would be present on his face, he gaze looking from beast, to girl, to man, to beast. Finally, in what would seem like hours, a smirk pulled at his right cheek, fingers removed from his mouth he tugged his front right tassle in a odd salute. "Quite understandable, mate. After all, wouldn't want to upset this beast, now would I?" The bard leaned in towards the Lyre-fox, a lazy wink directed into the eyes of the beast. "Safe travels, aye?" No matter what the fox-mounted man would say or do, if the lyre fox continued its journey, Locien would wave once or twice as the plume of dust would grow in the Underglow's dim light. As soon as Locien decided they were out of listening distance, the cittern would slide into the bard's hand, the song's notes reflecting the tainted smirk that had formed on Locien's face.

The Story Master would find the next 15 to 20 minutes of his travels smooth, fast, and almost peaceful as the Lyre-fox's notes trembled through the air. However, something would mix with the "normal" Underglow's wildlife sounds. It would be doubtful that he would be able to distinguish a rattling yip from the cries of buhnks or loomanahs...

http://goinghobbitstyle.tumblr.com/

15 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Mon Oct 21, 2013 1:37 pm

Nilly

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In a room within the Old Boar Inn, Missile was agitated.

Her back against the ceiling and a her notebook floating just below her hands, her pen between her teeth as she crossed her arms, she stared at the blank lines on the paper. Weeks before, months even, she and the half-elf bard she held affection for (she didn't dare call it anything other than "affection," any other word was too dangerous to consider) had encountered a creature she'd thought mere fiction - King Koopa, Bowser himself, and fought him, leaving his shop in ruins. That wasn't to say she or Pullo had been without injuries; she'd dislocated her arm, of course, stupid thing. A burn still healed under a bandage on her neck, and the remaining injuries on her arms were now simply scars.

She let the notebook drop to the floor before picking it up again with a vector, dropping herself back to the floor on her feet as she walked over to the window. She ached to go out and cause more mischief, but they had to lay low, for a little while; they'd gotten a bit too popular with the local... police, for the lack of a better word that she could use for this strange world (guards, maybe?).

Besides, there was always the possibility of getting deeper into the city, but first, they had to find a way in. Tutmose's walls reminded her of a show she'd seen, once upon a time; a world with massive humanoid creatures, horrifying monsters that ate humanity almost to extinction, and in response three walls had been built... in kind of an interesting similarity to Tutmose, actually. With a shrug, she sat down on the floor, chewing on her pen as she stared down again.

Drawing wasn't one of her strong points, and drawing tattoos was definitely a failed skill on her part, but she needed something to cover up the damn thing on her neck when it healed. Her mind wandered back to the fight with Bowser and she couldn't help but grin to herself; it had been like a childhood dream come true, actually fighting and defeating the evil King Koopa and saving the princess - er, themselves, she supposed they'd been the princess and Mario all at once in that situation.

What made her smile harder? Her following explanation of what Bowser was; which required an explanation of Mario; which implied that she needed to explain Italians, and plumbers, and plumbing, and toilets, and... one hell of a rabbit hole. But she didn't mind; in turn, she was curious about where Pullo was from and loved hearing about it.

Speaking of the half-elf - where'd he gotten to?

http://tworedheadsonekitchen.blogspot.com/

16 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Wed Oct 23, 2013 1:49 pm

Pajamas

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"Thank you bard and you as well," Said The Story Master tipping his tall hat with his free hand. "It is regrettable however, under different circumstances we might have made good acquaintance." He waved as the beast turned from the bard toward Tutmose. The great lyre-fox set off at full speed, eager to get far way from the bard and his unsettling music.

Until the party was within ten miles of Tutmose's imposing walls of their way was uneventfully and uninterrupted. Nothing but open plain and dried grass and a trailing cloud of dust as each powerful tread melodiously struck the ground.

The Story Master was not willing to parade through the wall into the Lows with the beautiful beast in tow. Though he would very much love her company, and would benefit from the ride, there were many greedy men, poachers, and thieves and he was not willing to risk losing his friend the beast. So he devised a way to to get as close to the wall as possible without being seen. When they were nearly ten miles from the wall, the massive glowing animal, aware of the plan, slowed her pace. At less than half the pace she drew in her light until only her magnificent blueish black coat was exposed to the air, her flame temporarily extinguished and her steps silent. At this point The story Master began to think of everything that angered him, working himself into a rage. A light fog began to cover the ground as they traveled. He thought of his father's untimely death, the countless times the amulet stole him from people he began to grow close to, and every person who had done him or his loved ones harm. The fog slowly grew thicker. Then the story master looked down to the girl in his arms. He thought of the condition she was in now and it made him genuinely angrier. He imagined what horrible things those monsters had done to her, what they would have done to her if he hadn't found her. He was enraged.

All at once The fog engulfed the land before them. They saw nothing but the haze. But this way the no one would see them either. In this way they trekked five miles from the gate and gardpost

17 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Thu Oct 24, 2013 10:54 am

Rhaevnn Xeno

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~In The Beginning~

The Wildwood; 5 Miles West
[TSM/Tara]

Amist the fog, man and woman would travel three miles inward, so close and yet so far from the Western Gate of Tutmose. The unnaturally made weather, conjured by The Story Master's emotions would prove to be useful, as weather was uncommon in The Crossroads but natural enough to where suspicion would not be raised by the Kardi, the elite force that guarded the three ringed walls of Tutmose.

As he trekked over field and grass, however, something was growing painfully noticeable. Or rather a sound was growing painfully noticeable. At first, it started as a singular, startling rasp in the fog, like a large insect buzzing away from the form of The Story Master. But as he grew closer and closer to the wall, the sound grew and grew, until it felt as if he were traipsing through a bee's hive, the rasp issuing in one breath, one voice.

Whether his pace quickened or slowed, it would not matter - sooner or later the sound would stop. The Story Master might recall rumors, or myths rather, of the creatures of the Wildwood. Some were large and ferocious, some were small but large in number...and always hungry.

Two miles to go.

Then, all at once, he would feel as he had taken a brick to the chest as something bowled The Story Master over, launching his body off the ground and to crash heavily onto the grassy plain. If his vision was quick, he would see a small Jhonkt retreating into the mist, almost laughing as it did; the creature itself was small, barely the size of a small dog. Silence again reigned, allowing The Story Master to possibly regain footing or maybe to remain down to regain his breath. A small breeze had blown over the grass, moving the fog in the most of deceiving manners, creating holes in its body or wrapping it so thick around the man that he could barely see in front of his face.

One mile to go.

And then, it happened. A hole in the fog, revealed three of the demonspawn not twelve paces from him. The fog rolled over the small creatures and then, as if by magic, they disappeared. Suddenly, to his left, a snarl issued from the unknown. Then, to his right something laughed, and then, to his front, as the mist gave way to another gentle push of the breeze, a scaly cannonball came leaping from the depths of the fog, long fangs spread wide and taloned feet flying towards The Story Master's chest...

http://goinghobbitstyle.tumblr.com/

18 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Wed Oct 30, 2013 6:24 pm

Pajamas

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The Story Master fell from atop the great fox, the limp girl still firmly in his grasp. They landed and the fog dampened ground with a bone jarring thud. His hat went flying when he braced her fall. But the impact of what ever had thrown them, the unforgiving landing on his back, and weight of the girl landing on his chest left him writhing in pain; his lungs completely winded. After what felt like the longest moment he had ever lived he rolled away from the girl and fought for air. When his lungs painfully began to receive breath he noticed many several things at once. First, a familiar sensation of warmth throughout his body as the spell placed on him so long ago changed the weather as fear gripped him. Second, the slowly lifting fog was lit with a blue glow, the lyre-fox, with fangs bared, was burning with the brilliance of her full light. Third, his party was in danger and what threatened them were things of myth and lore.
The great beast loosed a blood curdling growl from deep within her girth. This however did not intimidate the threat and more evil laughter succeeded the growl. Frantically, The Story Master tried to steal his emotions and regain his anger in an attempt to maintain the fog lest the guard become aware of the great fox. Painfully, he rose to his feet and rubbed felt the ring on the middle finger of his left hand. He invoked the ring mentally and summoned his most glorious weapon: The Wreath of Sentient Blades. Jets of pale red light rushed from the ring gathering into a sphere that hovered several feet before him. As if light emitted from the ring was tangible it rustled his clothes, it resembled little bolts of lightning. From within the center of the sphere twelve blades emerged.
Quickly he removed six swords from the wreath one at a time and with each tossed them gently in the air above where the girl lay unconscious. Each blade held fast in the air and hovered about her when he released them. With a nod he turned and removed another and kept this one in his right hand and with his left he pushed the sphere of light to the middle of the cluster of the six floating blades directly over the girl. He ran to where the lyre-fox stood, still snarling, not far from where they fell from her back. The Story Master took his place by her side facing the other direction and readied himself for the fight that he knew was about to ensue. He had heard tale of such monsters in the Lows and was afraid. His fear was easily manipulated into anger as this threat was prolonging him from helping the girl. The fog thickened.

19 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Wed Oct 30, 2013 9:09 pm

King in the North

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Pullo Half-Human stumbled out of some random bar he had found himself in. He was blackout drunk, perhaps suffering more than a little from his philosophy of taking random drugs without overly questioning them and verging on unconsciousness. After a couple of steps in the general direction of away he brought himself to a halt.

Everything went black at the stop of forward momentum but only for a second. Pullo looked around trying to get his bearings, he had no idea where he was or how he had got there, not because of the blackouts but because he typically doesn't pay attention to that sort of shit. He briefly thought of Missile and realized he hadn't seen her in hours, had he lost her before the strip club? He wasn't sure. It was definitely before the blondes, oh Asmodeus those blondes, and the things he did to them.

Thunderhorse neighed at him drawing his attention, his mount was standing near the post Pullo had apparently failed to properly tether him to. The strap hung uselessly in front of it's knees rather than being attached to the post. Still Thunderhorse was standing there waiting for him, evidently the jail he had stolen him from trained horses better than they had trained their guards.

Pullo was about to mount up when the yelling of a vendor with a cart displaying burning meat caught his attention. Pullo understood very little of the man's words but it was obvious he was hocking burning meat and the half-elf was suddenly starving at the thought of food. He tossed a few relatively worthless looking coins onto the cart, far too mentally gone to deal with the endlessly complex amount of currencies in this city that he had never really bothered to learn. The man used a pair of tongs to put a slightly burnt sausage onto an oblong bun and handed it to the bard gesturing at the bottles of various sauces he could help himself too.

Missing the gesture entirely Pullo took a hungry bite and immediately spit it out in disgust. Not at all in a reasonable mood he kicked over the cart and urinated on it claiming it as an improvement to the quality of the food; when the hot dog vendor objected Pullo responded with a wild slash of his short sword cutting the man's throat open. As his victim collapsed over onto his fallen cart Pullo hopped aboard Thunderhorse and road off, the rancid hotdog still in his hand.

“Ride... / Ride... / Ride... / Ride...
Thunder... / Thunder... / Thunder... / Thunder...
Thunderhorse! / Thunderhorse! / Thunderhorse! / Thunderhorse!

Revenge! / Revenge! / Revenge!

Thunder... / Horse / Thunder... / Horse

Thunder... / Horse / Thunder... / Horse*”

As he rode the song he had named his horse after ran through his head. He had named Thunderhorse the day he remembered he had a horse and went on a quest to get it the stunning black leather, metal studded saddle and accouterments it now wore. The song was a tad derivative but in his current state; as his steed barrelled down the street running people out of it's path Pullo smiled at the thought of the song that he wouldn't be able to play now if he tried.

“Thunder, Thunder...
Thunder, Thunder, Thunder... / Thunder... / Thunder... / Horse

Thunderhorse! / Thunderhorse!*”

The bard growled aloud, closer to in key than most would manage sober but far from his own usual perfection. As the song wound down Thunderhorse slowed to a trot as it approached the Old Boar Inn. Pullo steered it around back and hopped off in the alley. He was much to drunk to deal with the crowds, the boar or anyone else that might want him to preform, it was simpler to just sneak in his bedroom window.

Pullo threw his throwing short swords at the side of the building as a make shift ladder and clambered up. Standing balanced on a sword hilt he impatiently smashed out the glass of a window he hadn't locked. The bard hoisted his upper body through the window and collapsed downwards tumbling head over heels onto the floor, the hotdog fell from his grasp and rolled a few inches. Looking at Missile he proclaimed, “Don't eat that, s'horribobble,” before promptly passing out on the floor mere feet away from his bed.

20 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Fri Nov 01, 2013 3:59 pm

Nilly

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Missile eventually tired of wondering where Pullo was; he'd said something about hitting a strip club, and to be frank, she wasn't precisely in the mood for slaughtering all the pretty, pretty whores in the building. She'd also been profusely drunk at the time, and the mild hangover she had was the price to pay for deciding to sober up.

She sighed and laid back on the bed, intending to relax some before going downstairs to eat; she didn't particularly want to interact with any waitresses, but if she did, she'd need to have some sleep.

A series of thuds stirred her from her doze and she sat up, squinting at the window as a fist slammed through it. "Again, babe?" She watched him tumble on the floor, raised her eyebrow as he declared that hot dogs were disgusting, and she giggled before swinging her legs off the bed and crouching next to his unconscious form. "You're a goofball."

She slid her arms under his shoulders and hooked her hands around his biceps, lifting him up some and scooting backward until she hit the bed. One of her vectors reached out and grabbed something on the wall, stabilizing her as she pulled him up onto the semi-okay mattress.

"I suppose I need to explain 'hot dogs' to you when you wake up, huh?" She pulled the other half of the wrinkled sheet over and put her free arm under her head, yawning mildly. She paused mid-yawn to pull the pillow under her head better, clearing her throat. Missile glanced over at the dresser; yeah, the bottle of ale was still there; he'd probably need that when he woke up, damn hangovers. She used a vector to pull it over and set it on the side table before settling back, shutting her eyes. It was an admittedly strange life, here in Tutmose, but she'd enjoyed it; and she'd spent more time awake and about than Nikita had.

http://tworedheadsonekitchen.blogspot.com/

21 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Sat Nov 02, 2013 8:33 pm

Rhaevnn Xeno

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~In the Beginning~

The WildWood; 1 Mile West of Tutmose
[TSM/Tara]

Despite his brief moment of panic, The Story Master's actions would have bought him the much needed window of opportunity. The brilliant bright electric light shattered through the thickening fog, creating a rave effect of light and sound as the blades spilled from their master's constraint, following the orders given and protecting the heap of flesh that remained unconscious. High pitched, pig-like squeals ripped through the unseen space between the man and unknown as the lyre-fox's threatening growl caused the johnkt to retreat.

The silence that followed these defensive measures would be a deafening roar - even the wind seemed to meekly whisper as singular moments passed with the heaviness of hours. Suddenly, a singular, earthshaking roar (1:01) issued from the murky depths of the masking fog - a sound that surrounded the entire party and would make even the bravest of all men shudder in fear.

Then it happened.

From no where, a body of what seemed to be dozens of johnkt fell upon the party. The blades whirled in a windmill of death, the screams of the dying reptiles filing the air as they sliced with deadly accuracy. If The Story Master managed to fend off the triple threat that launched themselves from the mists with a fury of an avenging beast, he would find himself staring at a sea of long teeth and bodies. Even with his blades cutting through the masses, even they seemed to be barely holding a defensive perimeter. At least 17 johnkt were the back of lyre-fox (regardless of its flaming body), gnashing and clawing, their laughter and their thrumming rasps filling the air as they continued to attack, wave after wave.

It was impossible - for every johnkt that died, five replaced it. A heavy body would smash into the man, but if he fell or stumbled, but it would be up to his willpower to decide his fate. Teeth would be snapping at his legs, his arms, his body, but if he felt them... It would all depend on his tolerance of pain and how much his basic instinct for survival was overwhelming his logic. But one thing was certain - to stay was quickly not becoming an option - the swarm was becoming a thing of legend.

+=+=+

The Lows; The Old Boar Inn; Second Floor
[Pullo/Missle]

Unfortunately for Missle, her quiet moment with her intoxicated and quite unconscious boyfriend would be smashed into a million pieces - how literally, it would only be decided when a familiar and more than likely unwelcome voice issued from the opening door:

"Ey baby, yooz in heeyah?"

A pair of long, braided, and blond pigtails of a particular vampire waitress swayed into the room as she peeked around the thick oaken door. The mischievous (and possibly horny) smile that was on her face instantly faded into an expression of genuine surprise as she realized who was in the room. However, the expression faded into annoyance as fully stepped from behind the door, half hanging on the door like a pole dancer, half leaning against the wooden barrier with an air of "attitude."

"Oi - it's yooz."

Her green eyes flickered behind Missle, catching the drunken, sleeping form of Pullo. A half smile tugged at her lips as a  tongue poked out from her luscious lips and licked the tips of her pointed fangs. "Well, seein' yooz ain't gettin' any..." A smug smirk formed, hate and a light of victory shining in her eyes, "Ah'll come back laytah." She turned on her heel, lazily to make her exit. One could have sworn an evil giggle issued from her throat as she swung around the oaken hide of the door, almost mocking Missle as she did...



Last edited by Rhaevnn Xeno on Fri Dec 27, 2013 4:05 pm; edited 2 times in total

http://goinghobbitstyle.tumblr.com/

22 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Sun Nov 03, 2013 9:38 am

Nilly

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Missile tensed when the doorknob turned, eyes opening as she gingerly turned over and watched as the door opened. The accent (which she could only describe as a bastard child of Pittsburgh and Boston accents but she doubted she knew the analog for it here - ahem, "heeyah,") made her cringe as she recognized the owner of the pigtails. She sat up, staring at Bess with one arm still wrapped around her lover.

"Yeah, it's meez, you dumb whore." She wrinkled her nose, eyes narrowed. This was probably the biggest annoyance she had with Pullo's contract with the Boar; as long as he played exclusively at the Old Boar Inn, he had a room. With that, came the annoying fucking leech. She almost grinned as she remembered the first fight she'd had in Tutmose; oh, she'd gotten so close to tearing the vampire apart, but she liked the booze and atmosphere of the tavern too much to ruin her chances at coming back.

Not to mention, she doubted the Boar would appreciate losing one of his waitresses. This normally wouldn't concern her, except that Nikita was very fond of the old barkeeper's ways - and if she ever managed to upset her other half, there'd be hell to pay. As much as she hated her meeker personality, she wouldn't exist otherwise.

Her eye twitched as the waitress smirked and started to leave. Oh, she'd come back?

Missile swung her legs out of the bed, bare feet on the floor as she stared at the door. "Oh, sweetie, don't leave yet," she said, candy-sweet. "There's so much for us to talk about!"

Four of her vectors shot out; two slammed the door shut behind the vampiric bar maid and the other two grasped the blonde's pigtails before yanking them hard to pull her against the door. The diclonius stood up, walking to the door but still pulling hard to keep her in place. "You see, sweetheart, if it wasn't for the fact that... well," she chuckled, "that I'm so fond of your boss, I would've already finished this little hateful rivalry we've got going on." She rested her hands on the door, a sinister grin on her lips. "But I like having a semi-regular roof over my head, and so does Pullo, so if you don't want to end up as little, bitty red flesh chunks all over the floor..."

http://tworedheadsonekitchen.blogspot.com/

23 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Sat Nov 09, 2013 4:03 pm

Rhaevnn Xeno

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~In the Beginning~

The Low; Old Boar's Inn
[Nilly/Pullo]

Missle's rather violent actions caused a blood curdling scream to issue from the vampire bar maid's mouth as she laid down her threat. Bess would be struggling against the door, or so it would seem, judging by the scrabbling sounds outside the oaken door and the thrashing of the pigtails. She could possibly almost swear she heard the panicked sobs of Bess, who was desperately trying to control the tears that would be flooding her eyes - pain is a powerful thing.

Amist the small sobs and the struggle from the grip of Missle's vectors however, something intelligible would be said. At this point, Missle could possibly lean in to the door, ear to the wooden surface to ask tauntingly what the problem was or she could safely taunt from a distance. Either way, the door would be smashed with two or three heavy blows - however, whether or not the rockstar's lover would have a pale hand around her throat would depend on how close she was to the splintering barrier.

Either way, one enraged scream would fall harshly on Missle's ears:

"You little BITCH!"

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24 Re: Playground of the Omniverse IC on Mon Nov 11, 2013 11:42 am

Nilly

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Missile flinched at the high-pitched screaming, wrinkling her nose in distaste; didn't the girl know how to deal with pain with her indoor voice? She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as she leaned back from the door.

Faintly, she heard something on the other side of the door, but couldn't quite hear it. "What's the matter, Bess, bite your tongue of- ?!" The blows that destroyed the door and the fist that flew through the wreckage made her very, very glad she didn't taunt up close in most situations, and she damned herself for not grabbing the bitch's hands. FUCK!

"Takes one to know one," she teased, sing-song, before using the two vectors that had originally been on the door to lift herself up to the ceiling; as an afterthought, she also let go of the pigtails. With her back on the ceiling, her hands pressed against the drywall-like material, she smirked. "What's wrong? Angry that you can't get close enough to me?" She stretched her arms out, grinning nastily. "Well then, sweetheart, take all that you want, because here I fucking come!" With every ounce that her vectors could throw her, Missile launched herself straight at the doorway - and the seething vampirella that had busted down the door.



Last edited by Nilly on Thu Nov 21, 2013 2:08 am; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Better repliability)

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25 Relentless on Tue Nov 12, 2013 2:05 am

Pajamas

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Laughter faded as the monsters retreated into the fog. He stood ready, they were only startled and he could tell by how tense the lyre-fox stood that they were not gone. After some painfully long minutes a dark mass lunged at them. Moving as one, an indistinguishable number of the monsters fell upon them. From every side  and farther then they could see for the fog, they were surrounded. He took firmer hold of the sword in his hand and held his ground next to the massive fox.

    Three lunged at him. The Story Master felled each in a single swipe of the blade. Steam could be seen rising from the steel and the blood of the slain three froze to it. Each corpse dropped to the ground at his feet. To his right he saw ten or twelve of the demons hanging from the lyre-fox’s great haunches. Most of which were being incinerated alive the rest dead but still stuck fast to her thick hide.
 
  Sweat beaded from his forehead, his pulse was racing and now his fear had truly turned to anger and he hated these abominations. He glanced to his left and saw a fury of blades caught in a flurry claws and fangs. The swords had destroyed many of the beasts and the carcasses began to pile around the girl forming further protection, but their range was drawing ever closer to the girl lying unconscious.
 
  He leapt toward the fox, fended off three more monsters that were approaching the great beast, and then gestured at the Wreath as if calling it over towards him. The Wreath responded, compliantly floating quickly towards him. As the wreath floated he climbed onto the massive fox and began to swing the blade in his hand over his head and then threw it. The sword flew from his grasp yet continued to swing around his head steadily gaining momentum. The story master grabbed at more blades as the wreath drew near enough. First he drew the tall halberd at the base of the sphere and swung it much like he had the sword, which was still circling overhead and still gaining speed. When he released the halberd, however, it flew straight. A moment later, it flew back towards him and then flew in every direction overhead. Next he pulled a dagger from the Wreath and two more followed, hovering close to the first. With the first dagger he struck at the demons still clinging to the fox, still burning to death and pried of the corpses of those already burnt and dead. The two other daggers followed suit, as if on their own.
   
  A few minutes after he threw the sword and halberd the wind picked up drastically and it began to get rather cold.
   
   He beat all the monsters off the fox but more were lunging forward. The Story Master threw the dagger and the other two followed and the three started whirring in every direction, stabbing into the flesh of every demon that got in there way. He quickly lead the fox over to the girl and gestured to the swords defending her all six flew towards him and he grabbed a granite long sword which he plunged into the ground, it sank effortlessly into the earth up to its hilt. Immediately the ground started to tremor the fox steadied its self but was largely unaffected. He then grabbed two more blades and threw them both into the thickest area of the beasts and in response they began to slay beast after beast of their own will. The last two blades were a massive two handed sword and broken reverse grip blade, he took the large one with his right hand and the other with his left.
   
   A mad grin took over The Story Master's face and looking at the blades in hand he said calmly, “Old friends… welcome back to The Crossroads,” The Story Master said with a malicious look in his eye. He jumped from the lyre-fox's back and stuck the tip of the large sword in his right hand clear through the nearest demon.

  After a time fighting the beasts The story Master could see that it was futile. He had heard tales of fiends such as these. The reason for the myths surrounding them was the unending numbers. They were relentless.
 
 This was taking far too long and while he was just beginning to enjoy the skirmish the girl likely couldn't wait for his enjoyment. So he knew he had to make a decision. He had one more option in this fight but it was last thing he wanted to do.

   Begrudgingly, he threw the heavy sword in his right hand into the thick of the menacing beasts and it began to fly about cutting down each beast it came in contact with. The thin blade he in his other hand he threw at the at the wreath and it took its place there. Angry at circumstance ,he reached into the inner breast pocket of his long maroon coat and pulled out another small silver whistle with swirling marks all over it.

   He held the whistle cupped in both hands to his forehead and said, "Forgive me," he said as if talking to it. He blew into it. From the end of the whistle a small vortex of wind formed. The small current affected the a serious wind about The Story Master, strong enough that a few of the demons even hesitated (if only for a second). From the end of the whistle the small vortex flew several feet before him. The vortex grew in size until it was larger than a small house. It now thoroughly affected the beasts even knocking some over and pushing them back. Once the vortex stopped growing a massive scaly paw stepped out from within the vortex, after the paw the rest of a rather large dragon appeared.

   No words could accurately describe the beauty that stepped forth from the vortex. A majestic teal colored its scales which gleamed even in the light-less fog. The dragon was by every measure frightening, but in the very same way it was magnificent. The teal beast stood on four heavy paws taller than a two story home. Its wings  were disproportionally large for its size.
 
   When The dragon had fully emerged the vortex dispersed violently, knocking more of the demons off their feet. As it looked around it began to seem incredibly agitated until it laid its brilliant eyes on The Story Master. The great winged creature settled down as he opened his arms wide. The dragon responded by leaning its great head towards him. He embraced its head and the dragon closed its eyes comfortably. They stayed that way for a moment until  one of the demons sunk its insignificant teeth into the dense amour that were the dragon's scales.

     Despite not feeling much the dragon reared violently, flung the pest into the air with its massive maw, bathed the thing in flames, and swallowed the monster whole. Not looking back at The Story Master, the dragon continued, in a strange rage to lay waste to all the monsters within its range. The teal rage was relentless.

     While the dragon was stomping around and flaying flesh, The Story Master walked casually towards the lyre fox, examined the fairly minor wounds on its haunches, and took out the first whistle. He hugged the lyre-fox's great head in farewell and stepped back. He blew the whistle and the massive blue fire returned. The fox sauntered into the fire and out of sight. The blue flame waned until it was a little flame and it flew back to the tip of the whistle and extinguished.

   He turned to the girl still being protected by the swords but most of the monsters had there attention on the dragon who was now bathing them in a pale purple and orange flame. The number of the monsters was dwindling rapidly as the number of scorched carcasses multiplied. It wasn't long after the dragon had appeared that The Story Master hacked through the last of the demons.

    Now that the distraction had ended the dragon seemed bent on displaying its anger. Spiting flames into the air the great winged beast loosed a bloodcurdling roar, then rushed to The Story Master and pushed him on his back with closed maw. He knew of course why the dragon was so angry with him, he had promised that he would never return the great beast to its home, The Crossroads. Sprawled on His back he looked deep into those massive eyes with sympathy. After a few minutes of glaring the dragon seemed satisfied only after he reached into one of his countless pockets and produced a whistle.

   He beckoned to the Wreath and it hovered towards him. He put each blade in its place save for the broken longsword he kept in hand. Then he rubbed the ring, releasing the Wreath, which disappeared. He walked over to the girl still lying on the ground in the middle of a ring of gore. After hugging its massive head he recalled the dragon. He blew into the whistle in his hand a the vortex of wind returned. The dragon loosed a more pleasant sounding roar, equally as loud as the first, and disappeared in the midst of the vortex.

He gathered the girl up gently, mindful of the sword he still held,  and cradled her in his arms. Now fear gripped The Story Master. All that was left was to run. Being only a mile from the city's great gates the guard was certainly aware of the dragon's presence; even if they weren't aware of what it was exactly. The guard would have heard its roars or even seen the flames light up the area. The fog was still covering them, for the most part, still fueled by his anger. But now that fear was taking anger's place it would begin to fade.

So he ran. As he did the fog began to lift. Tutmose's imposing gates stood before them; they had drawn unwanted attention.



Last edited by Pajamas on Fri Jan 03, 2014 11:50 pm; edited 11 times in total

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