Introduction
Edict: The Message of the Gods
The end of the world is closing in, and your kind has called it upon itself. You humans have nearly destroyed our creation. We should wipe your race from the face of the earth for this atrocity, however, we are not unreasonable, so you foolish mortals will be given one last chance to show your species is worthy of living on.
We will not fight this battle for you, not this time. Redeem yourselves. We will grant you the power for this task, strengthen your puny bodies, and even give you skills you could only dream off, but keep one thing in mind, everything comes at a price.
You will fight, against your own creations in this ruined world. Gather your comrades and face the monsters created in the laboratories your governments always denied, the daemons born from the dark crevices of your very souls, and the ancient evils, once again released by the foolishness of man.
Do not look back, for your days of peace are gone.
The end of the world is closing in, and your kind has called it upon itself. You humans have nearly destroyed our creation. We should wipe your race from the face of the earth for this atrocity, however, we are not unreasonable, so you foolish mortals will be given one last chance to show your species is worthy of living on.
We will not fight this battle for you, not this time. Redeem yourselves. We will grant you the power for this task, strengthen your puny bodies, and even give you skills you could only dream off, but keep one thing in mind, everything comes at a price.
You will fight, against your own creations in this ruined world. Gather your comrades and face the monsters created in the laboratories your governments always denied, the daemons born from the dark crevices of your very souls, and the ancient evils, once again released by the foolishness of man.
Do not look back, for your days of peace are gone.
The star system, High God and his wife and children
The Oberan humans were proud inhabitants of the planet Oberos, second planet from the star that was named Bastilon.
Bastilon is also the name of the High God of the world. He is the God of Light, married to Ceteria, his female counterpart when it comes to the Domain of Light. Where the ever-present Light of Bastilon might seem as harsh and unforgiving as the sun that is named after him, she is the more subtle light, where there would be none to be found otherwise. (Ceteria is also an old word for the collective of stars and three moons dotting the nightsky)
Bastilon secondarily role is the Judge of All Life, whereas Ceteria is more of an Advocate, her secondarily domain being Forgiveness.
They have numerous children, although I will only name a few of them.
The first four, represent the four of the five main elements.
Endora is the Goddess of Wind (and Wisdom)
Kaiser is the God of Earth (and Fortitude)
Namaë is the Goddess of Water (and the Cycle of Life and Death)
Estrel is the God of Fire (and Passion/Fertility)
Collectively these four are known as the Kalur, with Kalur being the fifth element, roughly translating into Ether.
There are nine more children, but the last to be named for now is the youngest. Alistair. God of Darkness and War.
The Oberan humans were proud inhabitants of the planet Oberos, second planet from the star that was named Bastilon.
Bastilon is also the name of the High God of the world. He is the God of Light, married to Ceteria, his female counterpart when it comes to the Domain of Light. Where the ever-present Light of Bastilon might seem as harsh and unforgiving as the sun that is named after him, she is the more subtle light, where there would be none to be found otherwise. (Ceteria is also an old word for the collective of stars and three moons dotting the nightsky)
Bastilon secondarily role is the Judge of All Life, whereas Ceteria is more of an Advocate, her secondarily domain being Forgiveness.
They have numerous children, although I will only name a few of them.
The first four, represent the four of the five main elements.
Endora is the Goddess of Wind (and Wisdom)
Kaiser is the God of Earth (and Fortitude)
Namaë is the Goddess of Water (and the Cycle of Life and Death)
Estrel is the God of Fire (and Passion/Fertility)
Collectively these four are known as the Kalur, with Kalur being the fifth element, roughly translating into Ether.
There are nine more children, but the last to be named for now is the youngest. Alistair. God of Darkness and War.
3 continents, 3 races and 2.5 extinctions.
There are only three continents in the world, all of them rather small, although there are many archipelagos of islands. This is because due to the proximity to their star the world has no polar caps, and the water level is therefore rather high, covering much of otherwise suitable land. Ice was only discovered when someone was experimenting with magic, and nobody has even dreamt of the existence of Snow.
There were a total of three races in the past (Humans, Elves and Demons).
Demons were seen as the children of Alistair. Their association with the God, who had grown into the First Evil of the world, caused them to be hunted to extinction, mainly by the Elves.
Most of the hunting was done by the Elves, who took many casualties in the progress. With their population already being small, and their fertility rate low, they didn't have sustainable numbers anymore. The at the time Imperialistic species decided to go out in a blaze of glory, and intensified their hunt of the Demons. The few non-combatants that were left at the end of the war mingled with the human populace, until no distinct Elvish race remained.
Humans, the only species left, thrived for a while, in what was known as the Gold Millenium. (Despite it being closer to 1400 years). Having grown overconfident, they kept pushing the boundaries of what they knew. At first to great success, but it later became their downfall.
Elven Magicks, Dark Magic and the Arcane Arts
Magic formerly wasn't accessible by humans. Magical ability belonged solely to the two 'higher' races, who looked down upon humanity. The Elves had won the right to magic millenia before humans even came into existence and the demons had their Dark Magic gifted to them by Alistair.
Elven magic were various magicks that worked through invoking the Gods.
Likewise, Dark Magic could be seen as a magic system of it's own with many branches. It works by drawing in ambient mana to be processed by 'a magical core'. Their is nothing truly dark about the magic itself, aside from the God that gifted it to his children.
Both of these systems allowed the wielders to battle without feeling magical exhaustion, although there could be delibitating consequences if too much was channeled for too long or they were unfamiliar with the magic they were trying to achieve. (AKA, spells above their skill level)
The Human Arcane Arts also rely on a core, but instead of drawing in ambient mana it produces a small amount of magic on it's own, and stores this. The repeated emptying of a core allows for it refill faster and a faster growing storage. Emptying one's core has no negative consequences, aside from slight lethargy and not being able to use magic for a while.
Human Culture
Despite the diverging history, human culture used to pretty similar to ours, although they were ahead of us when it came to science. The fact that the occasional bored God decided to explain a few things to stuck scientists helped with that. Especially Endora is guilty of this.
For the most most part the Gods have retreated from the world though, with the death of their favoured race, the elves.
Not that you'd really notice this advancement in day to day life though, as most technology was held back by the mostly totalitarian governments fearing an uprising.
Then came the day the world simply broke, and the Gods decided enough was enough. Most of humanity died in that dark period, leaving their total at roughly 80,000,000 in various fortified settlements spread over the three continents.
Science has advanced even further, especially with the new possibilities magic brought. Nevertheless, going outside of the walls is still a fatal incident waiting to happen.
There are only three continents in the world, all of them rather small, although there are many archipelagos of islands. This is because due to the proximity to their star the world has no polar caps, and the water level is therefore rather high, covering much of otherwise suitable land. Ice was only discovered when someone was experimenting with magic, and nobody has even dreamt of the existence of Snow.
There were a total of three races in the past (Humans, Elves and Demons).
Demons were seen as the children of Alistair. Their association with the God, who had grown into the First Evil of the world, caused them to be hunted to extinction, mainly by the Elves.
Most of the hunting was done by the Elves, who took many casualties in the progress. With their population already being small, and their fertility rate low, they didn't have sustainable numbers anymore. The at the time Imperialistic species decided to go out in a blaze of glory, and intensified their hunt of the Demons. The few non-combatants that were left at the end of the war mingled with the human populace, until no distinct Elvish race remained.
Humans, the only species left, thrived for a while, in what was known as the Gold Millenium. (Despite it being closer to 1400 years). Having grown overconfident, they kept pushing the boundaries of what they knew. At first to great success, but it later became their downfall.
Elven Magicks, Dark Magic and the Arcane Arts
Magic formerly wasn't accessible by humans. Magical ability belonged solely to the two 'higher' races, who looked down upon humanity. The Elves had won the right to magic millenia before humans even came into existence and the demons had their Dark Magic gifted to them by Alistair.
Elven magic were various magicks that worked through invoking the Gods.
Likewise, Dark Magic could be seen as a magic system of it's own with many branches. It works by drawing in ambient mana to be processed by 'a magical core'. Their is nothing truly dark about the magic itself, aside from the God that gifted it to his children.
Both of these systems allowed the wielders to battle without feeling magical exhaustion, although there could be delibitating consequences if too much was channeled for too long or they were unfamiliar with the magic they were trying to achieve. (AKA, spells above their skill level)
The Human Arcane Arts also rely on a core, but instead of drawing in ambient mana it produces a small amount of magic on it's own, and stores this. The repeated emptying of a core allows for it refill faster and a faster growing storage. Emptying one's core has no negative consequences, aside from slight lethargy and not being able to use magic for a while.
Human Culture
Despite the diverging history, human culture used to pretty similar to ours, although they were ahead of us when it came to science. The fact that the occasional bored God decided to explain a few things to stuck scientists helped with that. Especially Endora is guilty of this.
For the most most part the Gods have retreated from the world though, with the death of their favoured race, the elves.
Not that you'd really notice this advancement in day to day life though, as most technology was held back by the mostly totalitarian governments fearing an uprising.
Then came the day the world simply broke, and the Gods decided enough was enough. Most of humanity died in that dark period, leaving their total at roughly 80,000,000 in various fortified settlements spread over the three continents.
Science has advanced even further, especially with the new possibilities magic brought. Nevertheless, going outside of the walls is still a fatal incident waiting to happen.
Character Sheet
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Species:
- Elder Demons (These were some of the first creations of Alistair. Aside from their creator, they are not linked to the extinct demon race. The Elder Demons were abandoned for being to strong to Alistair's liking, a small, rebellious group of the nearly managing to bring him to his knees.)
- Daemons (Again, not linked to the extinct demon race. These are entities born from the darkness in souls. Being spiritual entities, they are impervious to normal attacks.)
- Humans (Self-explanatory)
- Science Experiments, (This is a very broad category)
- Divine (you can both play one of the listed Gods or create one of the eight unnamed ones, although those should be less in power than the named ones, unless you can convince me why they should be stronger.)
- Titanisians (Again, a broad concept. None of them are humanoid though and they fall firmly within the categories of predator or prey. Note that these are, for the moment, restricted to Titanis, just as Oberosians are restricted to Oberos.)
Starting Location:
Personality: (Include 3 likes and dislikes)
Weapons/Powers: (Include 3 strengths and weaknesses)
History:
Other:
Appearance: (pictures allowed. Non-RL Face Claims are my preference due to reasons)
- 13 posts here • Page 1 of 1
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 6 authors
A rainy part of Rithallae at an unspecified time.
Cleaning the cloth of his tent was the bustering rain outside; circling with a foreboding coldness and mushiness on the fabric of the cloth that had built his campus. Beneath him, the grass was yellow from the lack of sunlight; and the underside of the tent was as dark as the corrugated, dim circles; like the sacks folding under his tired eyes. They hadn't even opened yet. It was the period that it was impossible to get up and insert yourself into the outside if you'd lived in a tent. And this tent was poorer than most. Rain crackled outside. Joost could hear it pitter-pattering on the roof. And the roof moved to the beat of un synchronized raindrops; a terrible offensive song. Trying to convince himself he should get up; but unsure into which world that would place him. He'd yet to check the light level; only the humidity was well apparent as vapor permeated his whole tent as the misty gas it was.
Sniffed. Sniffed again. Reeled in another sniff. It took him that long just to breathe in and out; a basic respiratory process. Vapor liquified his every breath and water started to collect in his nose. It'd only started; as the weather had booted up on a whim. Similar to his whim to life. Maybe it was time to get up and be active after all.
Either ways: he would remain idle for plenty yet. His hands tucked between the pillow and the floor of the sleeping back; thus beneath, and they disappeared in the middle. He slept with his face planted sideways to his left, so his face would send eye-information profile wise. And he would spy the royal green incompetent fabric which made up the very mobile house he was situated. But he couldn't render information from his vision because of the terrible noise; that way: his eyes continually darted about. Seeking problems as he wanted their gifts. His iris wouldn't adjust to any of the objects he'd look at. Finally: he focused on something that was far away from him: a far wall of his tent. The information was rendered and processed post-haste. However; it was bland, it was the same. It would teach him that he'd have to do more than that if he wanted some nice scenery today. Sure he'd go fishing, for fish. For the very utilitarian purpose of catching some whitebait that he could have with cornichons or some similarly "Pretentiouth' tripe". He tried to look past the opaque, tree green glade fabric of his tent but to no avail. This clearly wasn't his Nexus. He just wished it was actually a good time to get up. All he could think to do was to amass a sitting stance, and do a little writing. So could he; if it was traditional enough for him to have Papyrus as well as a quill-pen as a jotter. He'd seemed to have one at hand. Then he'd just have to play the worst game there is if he got bored with that: the waiting game. If it resolved that he'd have to do this: then it'd truly set off his impatience. He would go outside despite affairs with the oh-so-sordid weather.
What would be his compromise; he yearned to find out. And he set off into action avidly:
First, he raised his head from off the pillow. Followed his neck, until both faced pretty much upwards. To get further upwards his shoulders has to rise to meet him. It was at this point that he could sense gravity, and so his head dipped a bit before getting up. But the energy prevented anything else from happening. The energy battled entropy and in no time at all; he could look up onto objects in a state of relative portraiture. He maintained this seal stance for a while before using his arms to flop lazily to his front; being careful to recognize he couldn't stand up in this abode. The ceiling he cited as a bit low and stuffy; and coughed in response to this. Now he was what many would call upright in bed. That sleezy line between consciousness and unconsciousness breached.
"Mrgh" he murmured thoughtlessly. "Right - day?" he inquired; though this was hardly distinguishable from several other statements and served as a portion of useless information that could hardly be applied to any known reason. It was asked into the abyss. Then he stopped thinking about the abyss.
Then he waited. But he was still curious whether anyone else on his same plane was able to do any different than wait at this point in time.
Cleaning the cloth of his tent was the bustering rain outside; circling with a foreboding coldness and mushiness on the fabric of the cloth that had built his campus. Beneath him, the grass was yellow from the lack of sunlight; and the underside of the tent was as dark as the corrugated, dim circles; like the sacks folding under his tired eyes. They hadn't even opened yet. It was the period that it was impossible to get up and insert yourself into the outside if you'd lived in a tent. And this tent was poorer than most. Rain crackled outside. Joost could hear it pitter-pattering on the roof. And the roof moved to the beat of un synchronized raindrops; a terrible offensive song. Trying to convince himself he should get up; but unsure into which world that would place him. He'd yet to check the light level; only the humidity was well apparent as vapor permeated his whole tent as the misty gas it was.
Sniffed. Sniffed again. Reeled in another sniff. It took him that long just to breathe in and out; a basic respiratory process. Vapor liquified his every breath and water started to collect in his nose. It'd only started; as the weather had booted up on a whim. Similar to his whim to life. Maybe it was time to get up and be active after all.
Either ways: he would remain idle for plenty yet. His hands tucked between the pillow and the floor of the sleeping back; thus beneath, and they disappeared in the middle. He slept with his face planted sideways to his left, so his face would send eye-information profile wise. And he would spy the royal green incompetent fabric which made up the very mobile house he was situated. But he couldn't render information from his vision because of the terrible noise; that way: his eyes continually darted about. Seeking problems as he wanted their gifts. His iris wouldn't adjust to any of the objects he'd look at. Finally: he focused on something that was far away from him: a far wall of his tent. The information was rendered and processed post-haste. However; it was bland, it was the same. It would teach him that he'd have to do more than that if he wanted some nice scenery today. Sure he'd go fishing, for fish. For the very utilitarian purpose of catching some whitebait that he could have with cornichons or some similarly "Pretentiouth' tripe". He tried to look past the opaque, tree green glade fabric of his tent but to no avail. This clearly wasn't his Nexus. He just wished it was actually a good time to get up. All he could think to do was to amass a sitting stance, and do a little writing. So could he; if it was traditional enough for him to have Papyrus as well as a quill-pen as a jotter. He'd seemed to have one at hand. Then he'd just have to play the worst game there is if he got bored with that: the waiting game. If it resolved that he'd have to do this: then it'd truly set off his impatience. He would go outside despite affairs with the oh-so-sordid weather.
What would be his compromise; he yearned to find out. And he set off into action avidly:
First, he raised his head from off the pillow. Followed his neck, until both faced pretty much upwards. To get further upwards his shoulders has to rise to meet him. It was at this point that he could sense gravity, and so his head dipped a bit before getting up. But the energy prevented anything else from happening. The energy battled entropy and in no time at all; he could look up onto objects in a state of relative portraiture. He maintained this seal stance for a while before using his arms to flop lazily to his front; being careful to recognize he couldn't stand up in this abode. The ceiling he cited as a bit low and stuffy; and coughed in response to this. Now he was what many would call upright in bed. That sleezy line between consciousness and unconsciousness breached.
"Mrgh" he murmured thoughtlessly. "Right - day?" he inquired; though this was hardly distinguishable from several other statements and served as a portion of useless information that could hardly be applied to any known reason. It was asked into the abyss. Then he stopped thinking about the abyss.
Then he waited. But he was still curious whether anyone else on his same plane was able to do any different than wait at this point in time.
Ceres look at the grey sliver of sky she could see from her location within the hollow of a large tree. She was in the Woods near Reick, a place old man Acht had wanted to guide them too, but they hadn't managed to make it before the rain worsened.
They had hustled her into this hollow, citing health reasons. She pouted. They were Hippokrit-kal in her opinion, because they stayed in the rain themselves, 'standing guard' according to them.
She meant... Well... Sure, she was slightly grateful because she disliked such heavy rain, but wouldn't they too? Wouldn't they get sick too for that matter? But when she asked these questions she merely got indulgent smiles from the adults, and she didn't like that.
It was like... Like there was this huge secret between the three of them, but she was left out of the loop.
She huffed slightly.
Her thoughts drifted to mr. Rhowain, the nice pointy-eared man they had to leave behind in the forest surrounding Ackbar mountain. He had a lot of stories to tell, but had said he couldn't leave the place he lived in behind. It was fair enough she guessed.
Either way, maybe he would have told her?
She sighed, probably not. While nice, the man had babied her a lot.
They had hustled her into this hollow, citing health reasons. She pouted. They were Hippokrit-kal in her opinion, because they stayed in the rain themselves, 'standing guard' according to them.
She meant... Well... Sure, she was slightly grateful because she disliked such heavy rain, but wouldn't they too? Wouldn't they get sick too for that matter? But when she asked these questions she merely got indulgent smiles from the adults, and she didn't like that.
It was like... Like there was this huge secret between the three of them, but she was left out of the loop.
She huffed slightly.
Her thoughts drifted to mr. Rhowain, the nice pointy-eared man they had to leave behind in the forest surrounding Ackbar mountain. He had a lot of stories to tell, but had said he couldn't leave the place he lived in behind. It was fair enough she guessed.
Either way, maybe he would have told her?
She sighed, probably not. While nice, the man had babied her a lot.
The setting changes from Reick to Lake Apial
"BEWARE: Lake Apial is off-limits to all!" Read the small metal sign that stood before the massive body of water, its lack of color and abundant rust showing the age of the sign. However, it was far from the first, just the last one that was planted before the fall of the Golden Age. Considering what lie within the lake, the sign seemed so modest.
At the bottom of the lake, sleeping just atop the deepest point was one of the Elder Demons whose simple presence could strike fear into the bravest elf and confuse the wisest elven elder. Within Lake Apial rested Vel Tukaris, greatest leader among the demon hordes of old and creator of the first human empire. On the lake was one of the strongest seals that the elves ever created, one in which the very water of the lake held the Elder in his seemingly endless slumber. His place of healing also his tomb.
Vel had been at full health for millennia now, the wounds of battle long gone. However, the strength of his body mattered not. Vel was trapped within the day he failed. The day he was beaten. The day the accursed elves decided that the once revered Elder belonged beneath the water, forever.
Above the waters there was a gentle breeze that gently rustled the area surrounding the lake. Shining over all the life that lived on the edges of the waters was the perfect amount of sun, passing through the soft, white clouds in the blue sky. Day was just as comfortable in temperature. Overall, Lake Apial mimicked that which slept within, seemingly gentle and full of beauty with evil lying just beneath the surface.
At the bottom of the lake, sleeping just atop the deepest point was one of the Elder Demons whose simple presence could strike fear into the bravest elf and confuse the wisest elven elder. Within Lake Apial rested Vel Tukaris, greatest leader among the demon hordes of old and creator of the first human empire. On the lake was one of the strongest seals that the elves ever created, one in which the very water of the lake held the Elder in his seemingly endless slumber. His place of healing also his tomb.
Vel had been at full health for millennia now, the wounds of battle long gone. However, the strength of his body mattered not. Vel was trapped within the day he failed. The day he was beaten. The day the accursed elves decided that the once revered Elder belonged beneath the water, forever.
Above the waters there was a gentle breeze that gently rustled the area surrounding the lake. Shining over all the life that lived on the edges of the waters was the perfect amount of sun, passing through the soft, white clouds in the blue sky. Day was just as comfortable in temperature. Overall, Lake Apial mimicked that which slept within, seemingly gentle and full of beauty with evil lying just beneath the surface.
The setting changes from Lake Apial to Forsaken-verse
Joost reidentified the ground, after staring into nothing. He'd wondered what thought process he'd achieved. And so; Joost promptly and avidly set to work rediscovering what he'd learnt. The campus roof seemed to root the knowledge in a typhonous constellar pattern around hos prefrontal cortex. Now was not the time to invest in tedious mathematics, all he could think was that the answers would be celebrated by yet another person. But these "people", these "abstract possibly nonexistant characters", if he relied on them to do everything; he may as well be dead. He thought it a painful decision: should be give up his life, or force himself to be active? Post haste, Joost thought to synergise the thesis and antithesis into a syllergis. So he did, and they fused into this little gem: "get up when the time is right". He was about to flinch at this thought as well, by the by; it sounded like the greatest option at this point.
Joost was in the middle of a blink as this thought flashed across him. Before finishing the blink; that is to say, rejoining both eyelids into tremendous synergy: he gave them a slight berth, they existed further apart again for a split second before the subconcious took over. Then, he finishes the blink. Quite interesting how he was able to intercept something so small. The face of Joost was leaning forward, pointing like a sign toward the door of the tent, indicating it as a road. His neck was indeed craned fotward like a signpost. It uncomfortably stood in a position of readiness. His hands clamped onto the felt fabric of the sleeping bag, the withered slouched bag collecting into a solid in his hands. Really clamping it, as if trying to manage to throw it off balance. Flattened were his hands, like they were stuck in a low pressure fourdrinier, this could have been to the fault of his head of course. Jostling with his head. Then his face scrunched up. It was the inevitable time to depart; he didn't know why, he could just feel it in the air.
If it was indeed this time: then it would launch him forward. He'd got this far to sitting up, and then pointing towards the door. For the next second: his eyes rolled to the side of his vision, and he thought for a moment, "is it time to get up?" Somehow, out of nowhere, thia thought disappeared. He wondered the cause, causing him to stress up his head and lean defiantly closer to the unnocupied heavens. This was strange and quick. He would need some time to progress. He lightly tasted the thought in his mouth by chewing; a pleasant aftermint was the trout he'd eaten? Yes, so he smirked now; both defiantly at the heavens and about himself. It's not quite time for any action of refraction but he can see himself propelling himself on his own back to his feet any moment now.
And then a few drops of rain grazed his face. Causing hin to split his eyes into darkness a number of times. Hopefully enough to advance. His eyes adjusted to the rain by repeated srunching to eliminate the tedious buzz on the inner side. A short tear of aggravation fell his left eye, and it whittled away somewhere on his shirt but he wasn't ready to pinpoint its exact whereabouts: it would take him too long. Prioritise the inportant stuff: his goal was to relieve stress. And through what means? He spoke through his mouth out loud; in his wobbly and pealike voice:
"L'rn". And that was that. After that the decibels cut off without any outro fade. "Neat joint" he implied about the room. It was a pretty neat tent, so it deserved one of his faviroute statements. It was also only now that he'd noticed how the ceiling of this portable compartment's material was slightly dropped under the pressure of sicle-like water spittle, drizzled by the rain. As he was looking upwards, his eyes darted to the left a few millimeters on the perimeter on the cornea, as well as lifting slightly more, as if resisting the pain created by an annoying joke, and began to respond to the sensual noise of different colors that zipped around on some surfaces by allowing his eye to babble, randomly; in close proximity to where they were situated now.
Eyes were bringing themselves inactivity in a while. He curled up his hand, so that all fingers but the pinky had some connection to his palm via fingertips, fingernails maintaining their homely stance completely opposed. Then, he gently rubbed this skinlike cillia upon the base of his thumb, so that the skin exerted and extended and relieving itself back went on in a pleasant circle. He settled for a short upward movement in a straight line, for about three millimeters, before descending in a cemi-circle aback; a simple and unprofound journey.Couldn't quite understand how he was able to keep track of this pattern. His eyes rolled once again, jolting in the opposite direction to where they were going every-so-often as if to check on his stubborn brow; that was fixed in a complex act of frowning since he'd got up. He looked down towards his oddly-pursed lip, still conducting a smirk. It seemed devilish considering the smirk; devilish in a "haha" way. The biggest aftertaste he had in his mouth was the one left by the slice of life he'd had as a child, where he'd had to experience "that". Yes, this caused him to have an awkward, salted brow that bore the shape of annoyance quite often when he least needed it. A sign of aggresion that had him escaping from danger more times than he had it in him; yet not quite as much as his full capacity for the task. He'd to mediate this task between the physical pain and the constant self-analysis needed to make friends.
Not to be requires to self-analyse in bed though; that would cause him to be immensely exerted.
Joost was in the middle of a blink as this thought flashed across him. Before finishing the blink; that is to say, rejoining both eyelids into tremendous synergy: he gave them a slight berth, they existed further apart again for a split second before the subconcious took over. Then, he finishes the blink. Quite interesting how he was able to intercept something so small. The face of Joost was leaning forward, pointing like a sign toward the door of the tent, indicating it as a road. His neck was indeed craned fotward like a signpost. It uncomfortably stood in a position of readiness. His hands clamped onto the felt fabric of the sleeping bag, the withered slouched bag collecting into a solid in his hands. Really clamping it, as if trying to manage to throw it off balance. Flattened were his hands, like they were stuck in a low pressure fourdrinier, this could have been to the fault of his head of course. Jostling with his head. Then his face scrunched up. It was the inevitable time to depart; he didn't know why, he could just feel it in the air.
If it was indeed this time: then it would launch him forward. He'd got this far to sitting up, and then pointing towards the door. For the next second: his eyes rolled to the side of his vision, and he thought for a moment, "is it time to get up?" Somehow, out of nowhere, thia thought disappeared. He wondered the cause, causing him to stress up his head and lean defiantly closer to the unnocupied heavens. This was strange and quick. He would need some time to progress. He lightly tasted the thought in his mouth by chewing; a pleasant aftermint was the trout he'd eaten? Yes, so he smirked now; both defiantly at the heavens and about himself. It's not quite time for any action of refraction but he can see himself propelling himself on his own back to his feet any moment now.
And then a few drops of rain grazed his face. Causing hin to split his eyes into darkness a number of times. Hopefully enough to advance. His eyes adjusted to the rain by repeated srunching to eliminate the tedious buzz on the inner side. A short tear of aggravation fell his left eye, and it whittled away somewhere on his shirt but he wasn't ready to pinpoint its exact whereabouts: it would take him too long. Prioritise the inportant stuff: his goal was to relieve stress. And through what means? He spoke through his mouth out loud; in his wobbly and pealike voice:
"L'rn". And that was that. After that the decibels cut off without any outro fade. "Neat joint" he implied about the room. It was a pretty neat tent, so it deserved one of his faviroute statements. It was also only now that he'd noticed how the ceiling of this portable compartment's material was slightly dropped under the pressure of sicle-like water spittle, drizzled by the rain. As he was looking upwards, his eyes darted to the left a few millimeters on the perimeter on the cornea, as well as lifting slightly more, as if resisting the pain created by an annoying joke, and began to respond to the sensual noise of different colors that zipped around on some surfaces by allowing his eye to babble, randomly; in close proximity to where they were situated now.
Eyes were bringing themselves inactivity in a while. He curled up his hand, so that all fingers but the pinky had some connection to his palm via fingertips, fingernails maintaining their homely stance completely opposed. Then, he gently rubbed this skinlike cillia upon the base of his thumb, so that the skin exerted and extended and relieving itself back went on in a pleasant circle. He settled for a short upward movement in a straight line, for about three millimeters, before descending in a cemi-circle aback; a simple and unprofound journey.Couldn't quite understand how he was able to keep track of this pattern. His eyes rolled once again, jolting in the opposite direction to where they were going every-so-often as if to check on his stubborn brow; that was fixed in a complex act of frowning since he'd got up. He looked down towards his oddly-pursed lip, still conducting a smirk. It seemed devilish considering the smirk; devilish in a "haha" way. The biggest aftertaste he had in his mouth was the one left by the slice of life he'd had as a child, where he'd had to experience "that". Yes, this caused him to have an awkward, salted brow that bore the shape of annoyance quite often when he least needed it. A sign of aggresion that had him escaping from danger more times than he had it in him; yet not quite as much as his full capacity for the task. He'd to mediate this task between the physical pain and the constant self-analysis needed to make friends.
Not to be requires to self-analyse in bed though; that would cause him to be immensely exerted.
The setting changes from Forsaken-verse to Mekhnar
What was once a bustling city, now nothing more than ruins and dust. Those buildings not collapsed were nothing more than ghostly shells, almost the only life remaining are scavenging beasts. The exception of this, however, was the only arguably sapient occupant, a shade of a previous occupant, Eurydice Reverence, now a daemon of the deepest grief. Time had become lost to her, in her mind the event remained fresh, cycling as an endless nightmare, and her body no longer degraded or got sick. In her mind she is the human girl, Eurydice Reverence, not a daemon, a fact that was lost to her just as the passing of time.
It was in the street that she resided this time, kneeling in the middle of a vacant road staring into a cold gray sky, her long hair getting caught in a breeze, her amber eyes unblinking and wide. How long she had been sitting here, motionless, was completely lost to her. She simply waited, waiting for something, to wake up, for something to happen, for the gods to answer her prayers, for her family to rise from the dead, for... anything. She simply stares, blankly, wondering why there is no answer, no sign, no change, no end to this horror that had become her life. Where had the gods gone? Are they too, dead, or perhaps gaining some sick amusement from this? Was she the only living thing left in this world, was she utterly alone in the world itself?
"There was so many butterflies, so alive and carefree," she mutters softly in a broken tune. "There was so many butterflies, where could they have gone? There were so many, but now there is one..." With this she is once again silent, falling down onto the asphalt, another futile attempt to sleep, as that too had become lost to her. A body that never ages, never gets sick, also requires no sleep. Once again denied even dreams, she just remained there, motionless, waiting for any distraction, any change.
It was in the street that she resided this time, kneeling in the middle of a vacant road staring into a cold gray sky, her long hair getting caught in a breeze, her amber eyes unblinking and wide. How long she had been sitting here, motionless, was completely lost to her. She simply waited, waiting for something, to wake up, for something to happen, for the gods to answer her prayers, for her family to rise from the dead, for... anything. She simply stares, blankly, wondering why there is no answer, no sign, no change, no end to this horror that had become her life. Where had the gods gone? Are they too, dead, or perhaps gaining some sick amusement from this? Was she the only living thing left in this world, was she utterly alone in the world itself?
"There was so many butterflies, so alive and carefree," she mutters softly in a broken tune. "There was so many butterflies, where could they have gone? There were so many, but now there is one..." With this she is once again silent, falling down onto the asphalt, another futile attempt to sleep, as that too had become lost to her. A body that never ages, never gets sick, also requires no sleep. Once again denied even dreams, she just remained there, motionless, waiting for any distraction, any change.
After what seemed like an eternity the rain began to lessen. Ceres had been bored out of her skull, even though Lily had come back about half way through. It had been common consensus between her, Cain and Acht that she would be the one to entertain Ceres when the little girl was in one of her moods.
Lily sighed, while the girl was a delight to be around due to being able to interact with them -where before they couldn't affect anything-, she sometimes wondered about her personality. She was a nice girl, certainly, but she acted a bit dim. She was not sure whether this was because it was an actual characteristic of the girl's or that she was so far in denial it wasn't even funny.
Not that Lily didn't care about Ceres, because she did, but that did not mean she was unaware of her faults.
"...My eyes...", the answer seemed to be correct, as the girl pouted. She had probably been proud of the trick question. Two can play that game though. "I spy with my little eye... something blue..."
At this point the rain had stopped entirely, although the skies were still overcast.
"... My hairclip?", the girl asked, having listed a plethora of other things before that. This was the right answer though.
"How about we go do something else?", Lily suggested, having grown tired of the game.
Lily sighed, while the girl was a delight to be around due to being able to interact with them -where before they couldn't affect anything-, she sometimes wondered about her personality. She was a nice girl, certainly, but she acted a bit dim. She was not sure whether this was because it was an actual characteristic of the girl's or that she was so far in denial it wasn't even funny.
Not that Lily didn't care about Ceres, because she did, but that did not mean she was unaware of her faults.
"...My eyes...", the answer seemed to be correct, as the girl pouted. She had probably been proud of the trick question. Two can play that game though. "I spy with my little eye... something blue..."
At this point the rain had stopped entirely, although the skies were still overcast.
"... My hairclip?", the girl asked, having listed a plethora of other things before that. This was the right answer though.
"How about we go do something else?", Lily suggested, having grown tired of the game.
Meanwhile, Joost thought he was weaving a Utopia built on city states and barter systems. In actuality: he was weaving together an allready completed mesh of his sleeping sack. He now knew that he had to be stalling for time.
Joost tested lifting himself from the floor to see how much pent-up cramp caused his ligiments to crook. He looked into the senses of the back of the neck and returned with a report of stuffiness, like an influenza of sorts. Subsequently, he reared his right hand and stretched his fingers out to far reach: before the elasticity expiref and they were drawn back in. Swiping this behind his head, he notified his eyes to go idle somewhere in profile while he checked for the cause of the stuffiness. Soon it was clear: he'd been sleeping on a quantity of icy water. Quickly, Joost compared this to the pillow. The warmth of the pillow in contrast to the siberian humidity as an output didn't quite fit. He let his head wave from side to side and his eyelids amptly settle without giving any conclusion. The first aura of calmness in weeks for him.
What's more: the water didn't trickle but instead it feebly clung inside the pores of his great lizardlike, waxy stoma-blocking insoluble skin. Furthermore Joost did not see the point in reaching a conclusion, though he explored briefly in his babbling right-brain that it could be associated with the hardness of the water.
The water continued to cling as this continued: Joost was far more compelled to travel away from the water that seemed to be allocated to this environment before it condemned him to more than stuffiness. Without batting an eyelid: he managed to focus his eyes centrally-placed. His iris was the right size to allow the light taken in to be insufficient to cause flinching, and he let his eyebrows calmly droop at the discovery of a shiny pale grey zip as a way to open or close this fabric-bound doorway. His eyes continued like this for a little while, allowing themselves human mistakes, or as Joost puts it: daemon mistakes. Water streaked over the retina and they were both dull and uninterested. This may be, in part, what allowed Joost himself to be relatively content and grateful for his time he was given to be peaceful.
Nonetherless, if there wasn't cramp: he would break this tranquility and make a physical effort to bargain for a nice day-trip. There was a nearby pond, in which sticklebacks and other local animals such as toads quarelled with a great pacifism, should his mind serve correctly. This may be where he intended to spend this incredibly nonchalant and dim day. It fitted perfect, the rain here carried on tapping, the ground must have been solvent. After concluding that shaking his head: he was more than ready to nod at this idea.
He began to plug his head and conduct a nod, his head sliding a bit more horizontal to begin with: but he soon regained full control over the nod and this lucidity was gone.
In the end: Joost ended up refusing to finish the nod he'd started, and brought it up to whatevet you'd imagine as a casual position. He was not very cultured in what made a "casual" angle to place your head at.
Heaving his great slumped mass towards this potential opening in the mobile countryside-meanderer; he began by digging his arms into the floor of the tent, focusing the pressure of his body between his ten fingers which scattered like spider's legs once they got the chance to settle down into the planet crust. As his arms became less folded, slowly but surely, his torso began to rise, and leave a greater gap between him and the entropy of the ground in correlation with his weight. His arms didn't flicker at this small burden, they remained flat, mechanical and insensitive. Thought his fingers were quivering a bit.
Before too long; Joost collected himself to two legs, with his kneepads facing his chin. He hovered to the exit like a slug, the movements of his limbs subtle enough that you'd imagine he was only being blown towards this ultimate goal.
His finger quickly analysed the ring around the zip sensually. This was his index; and it interfered with it no more than finding out its form on one side. Then with his thumb and the finger directly next to it; he met the fingertip and the tip of the thumb through this ring where not much else of the hand could bypass. His arm was but narrowly extended, at what was an obtuse hinge.
This was slightly twiddled and fussed about with.
Then he began to take the metallic zip handle upwards, making it climb all the zip joineries and dislodge the strong puzzle pieces. Through this: more and more of the circle encapsulated as this zip chain's space began to lower, and he could choose to see more and more of the landscscapes that haunted his local environment. Naturally; Joost was too impulsive to take notice of nature as a first resort.
Instead, his eyes were beaming; the cornea at the top and bottom showing, as he stared with immense concentration and precision at th movement of the zip. The laziness that was described had parted ways; gone back onto Joost's timetable for a different day or time where he was allowed to be lazy as such. For now: he perpetuated his idea of non-laziness, not relieving himself of his duty to alertedness just yet.
In actuality; now that Joodt had all of this external stimuli; a fortunate expression where his mouth went from ear-to-ear with delight struggled on calously, as he took in the fresh and crisp morning air, still dazzling all that took it in with its rawness and organic feel. It smelt like flecks of corn and lingering woodsmoke and peat in this area. This was a mixture and a barrage; that was thick enough that Joost had to decide to lean his head back slightly, taping the very top of the back of his neck to where his head began, do he could truly indulge in every inch of the atmosphere.
"I d'nt think thshe'th been thith' nith'e for the whole m-month!" Joost remarked with shock and clarity.
Joost tested lifting himself from the floor to see how much pent-up cramp caused his ligiments to crook. He looked into the senses of the back of the neck and returned with a report of stuffiness, like an influenza of sorts. Subsequently, he reared his right hand and stretched his fingers out to far reach: before the elasticity expiref and they were drawn back in. Swiping this behind his head, he notified his eyes to go idle somewhere in profile while he checked for the cause of the stuffiness. Soon it was clear: he'd been sleeping on a quantity of icy water. Quickly, Joost compared this to the pillow. The warmth of the pillow in contrast to the siberian humidity as an output didn't quite fit. He let his head wave from side to side and his eyelids amptly settle without giving any conclusion. The first aura of calmness in weeks for him.
What's more: the water didn't trickle but instead it feebly clung inside the pores of his great lizardlike, waxy stoma-blocking insoluble skin. Furthermore Joost did not see the point in reaching a conclusion, though he explored briefly in his babbling right-brain that it could be associated with the hardness of the water.
The water continued to cling as this continued: Joost was far more compelled to travel away from the water that seemed to be allocated to this environment before it condemned him to more than stuffiness. Without batting an eyelid: he managed to focus his eyes centrally-placed. His iris was the right size to allow the light taken in to be insufficient to cause flinching, and he let his eyebrows calmly droop at the discovery of a shiny pale grey zip as a way to open or close this fabric-bound doorway. His eyes continued like this for a little while, allowing themselves human mistakes, or as Joost puts it: daemon mistakes. Water streaked over the retina and they were both dull and uninterested. This may be, in part, what allowed Joost himself to be relatively content and grateful for his time he was given to be peaceful.
Nonetherless, if there wasn't cramp: he would break this tranquility and make a physical effort to bargain for a nice day-trip. There was a nearby pond, in which sticklebacks and other local animals such as toads quarelled with a great pacifism, should his mind serve correctly. This may be where he intended to spend this incredibly nonchalant and dim day. It fitted perfect, the rain here carried on tapping, the ground must have been solvent. After concluding that shaking his head: he was more than ready to nod at this idea.
He began to plug his head and conduct a nod, his head sliding a bit more horizontal to begin with: but he soon regained full control over the nod and this lucidity was gone.
In the end: Joost ended up refusing to finish the nod he'd started, and brought it up to whatevet you'd imagine as a casual position. He was not very cultured in what made a "casual" angle to place your head at.
Heaving his great slumped mass towards this potential opening in the mobile countryside-meanderer; he began by digging his arms into the floor of the tent, focusing the pressure of his body between his ten fingers which scattered like spider's legs once they got the chance to settle down into the planet crust. As his arms became less folded, slowly but surely, his torso began to rise, and leave a greater gap between him and the entropy of the ground in correlation with his weight. His arms didn't flicker at this small burden, they remained flat, mechanical and insensitive. Thought his fingers were quivering a bit.
Before too long; Joost collected himself to two legs, with his kneepads facing his chin. He hovered to the exit like a slug, the movements of his limbs subtle enough that you'd imagine he was only being blown towards this ultimate goal.
His finger quickly analysed the ring around the zip sensually. This was his index; and it interfered with it no more than finding out its form on one side. Then with his thumb and the finger directly next to it; he met the fingertip and the tip of the thumb through this ring where not much else of the hand could bypass. His arm was but narrowly extended, at what was an obtuse hinge.
This was slightly twiddled and fussed about with.
Then he began to take the metallic zip handle upwards, making it climb all the zip joineries and dislodge the strong puzzle pieces. Through this: more and more of the circle encapsulated as this zip chain's space began to lower, and he could choose to see more and more of the landscscapes that haunted his local environment. Naturally; Joost was too impulsive to take notice of nature as a first resort.
Instead, his eyes were beaming; the cornea at the top and bottom showing, as he stared with immense concentration and precision at th movement of the zip. The laziness that was described had parted ways; gone back onto Joost's timetable for a different day or time where he was allowed to be lazy as such. For now: he perpetuated his idea of non-laziness, not relieving himself of his duty to alertedness just yet.
In actuality; now that Joodt had all of this external stimuli; a fortunate expression where his mouth went from ear-to-ear with delight struggled on calously, as he took in the fresh and crisp morning air, still dazzling all that took it in with its rawness and organic feel. It smelt like flecks of corn and lingering woodsmoke and peat in this area. This was a mixture and a barrage; that was thick enough that Joost had to decide to lean his head back slightly, taping the very top of the back of his neck to where his head began, do he could truly indulge in every inch of the atmosphere.
"I d'nt think thshe'th been thith' nith'e for the whole m-month!" Joost remarked with shock and clarity.
"I gotta th'ay..." Joost began to widen his mouth, his pointed tounge that was brought to a hurtful close at the rim of his lips could just about be seen. His mouth's shape now implied that he'd a small rubber ball bent on keeping his mouth open like this. Promptly, Joost continued: "Thith' doeth' make a change from the uth'ual contrith'ance I uth'ually get in the morningth'"; he finished with his mouth in a wide broad sweep; the millimeters in the area it encapsulated may be extended out to figures in the googol, and anyone would notice how his jaw stretched his gum with his skull in this exaggerated, yet somehow still subtle, demeanor.
He closed his lips, removing much of the height. And then Joost downplayed his muscles: taking off a slight ammount of the width. As it closed: it did so over an ecstatic period of ten seconds, and it was hovering without an organic feel to this close. It was truly an ultimate close, he was respirating in at the time and his breath almost cut short by something other than delicious trout or Romantic landscapes for once.
Once again: Joost played his cards in the morning all right. It depended on how subjective you wanted to be. If you thought that it would be better that he exerted himself to his absolute limits before retiring, you couldn't see that in Joost right now. The marks under his eyes only laziness for the sake of concius retribution. The idea to "never relax" may have subdued him into these ovular circles which bound him to daemonic restrictions of mind and body. He could not simply hover about. He remained almost completely inert, the hinged arm still struggling on for the purpose of nothing other than supporting the frame of an allready exposed fabric capsule, two-way entry to the rest of the world and this minimal tent.
And part of the outside world: the air, was quickly fusing with Joost's skin in a biased direction. He felt like he was at one of the poles of the planet allready on his back to a small and safe degree and furthermore all this did was paste the same sense on to his dry and cumulative epidermis.
Soon he'd be programmed to leave. A hint of a tree extending into the equator of the sphere of the dim, pastel, neutral, milky atmosphere; its purple l and green life sentiments clashing with that of the tree: he took as a sign for further life. Relying on his environment for subtle and noneffactive hints could injure no one, he briefly contemplated. But it wasn't a relative thing to contemplate; and behind these eyes that were focused on the tree lay sufficient gratification that he couldn't find the need to think much further.
Close to the exit all ready, and with the foreboding sweep of his left foot, left crawling along the earth: he prepared himself to brace the cold air. After about ten minutes of pure, unadulterated procastination, Joost had taken a pleasant exeunt that required no bargain. The subtle tree awaited, the crackling rain awaited, a lean, varnished and mahogany-built fishing rod with an iron cast and million colour fly fishing rod awaited, that nice pond awaited, acquaintances he would meet today: he awaited them as they would him. How it felt to have the most and to own it too.
He closed his lips, removing much of the height. And then Joost downplayed his muscles: taking off a slight ammount of the width. As it closed: it did so over an ecstatic period of ten seconds, and it was hovering without an organic feel to this close. It was truly an ultimate close, he was respirating in at the time and his breath almost cut short by something other than delicious trout or Romantic landscapes for once.
Once again: Joost played his cards in the morning all right. It depended on how subjective you wanted to be. If you thought that it would be better that he exerted himself to his absolute limits before retiring, you couldn't see that in Joost right now. The marks under his eyes only laziness for the sake of concius retribution. The idea to "never relax" may have subdued him into these ovular circles which bound him to daemonic restrictions of mind and body. He could not simply hover about. He remained almost completely inert, the hinged arm still struggling on for the purpose of nothing other than supporting the frame of an allready exposed fabric capsule, two-way entry to the rest of the world and this minimal tent.
And part of the outside world: the air, was quickly fusing with Joost's skin in a biased direction. He felt like he was at one of the poles of the planet allready on his back to a small and safe degree and furthermore all this did was paste the same sense on to his dry and cumulative epidermis.
Soon he'd be programmed to leave. A hint of a tree extending into the equator of the sphere of the dim, pastel, neutral, milky atmosphere; its purple l and green life sentiments clashing with that of the tree: he took as a sign for further life. Relying on his environment for subtle and noneffactive hints could injure no one, he briefly contemplated. But it wasn't a relative thing to contemplate; and behind these eyes that were focused on the tree lay sufficient gratification that he couldn't find the need to think much further.
Close to the exit all ready, and with the foreboding sweep of his left foot, left crawling along the earth: he prepared himself to brace the cold air. After about ten minutes of pure, unadulterated procastination, Joost had taken a pleasant exeunt that required no bargain. The subtle tree awaited, the crackling rain awaited, a lean, varnished and mahogany-built fishing rod with an iron cast and million colour fly fishing rod awaited, that nice pond awaited, acquaintances he would meet today: he awaited them as they would him. How it felt to have the most and to own it too.
"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?"
With much of the city outskirts lying in ruins, places where stragglers could find some decent sleep are rather scarce especially if one has to worry about various problems that come with dilapidated places like the ruined, unfinished skyscraper Ren and her small group of scouts resided in.
Leaks were very common, especially after rainy days when you'll just wake up drenched in ancient grime that fused with the water falling from above and surveying a building to find a half-inch deep pool spawning in the far right of the mess hall. At times, the people feel compelled to clean it up but most of the time, they just leave it all out in the open, waiting for the sun to do their job for them.
Sandstorms are a common sight as well. The dust in the nearby ruins gets blown by the harsh winds, making it difficult to breathe. Canvases were put up to try and fend off the winds but even these are all old, with multiple tears here and there.
Abominations do come yes but, it rarely happens as opposed to the former two. Waiting it out in the upper floors seem to work most of the times. On rare occasions, they may have to fight it out with their limited battle capability. Someone might die and in the event that someone does, there are no decent funerals. You were just buried in a mass grave dug behind the building--considering you were lucky enough for your body to be retrieved.
Yet life goes on for the people at the ruins. Ren's already got her usual schedule planned. Get up, go out and walk around the place. After three hours in the field, she returns and let others take their shift. Sometimes, she finds some items she wants to take home or sell for scrap. Maybe even find a few parts for the "Nutcracker" but most of the time, she's always empty-handed. Back in the day, she only needs to patrol two days a week but, losing people had forced them to go overtime to cover up for their fallen allies.
"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?" One of the boys currently on look out asked to no one in particular, catching Ren's attention. "I heard Cabara's got it better than this dump."
Ren didn't reply though as she was too busy working on the pressure mechanism on the Nutcracker; a weapon she was building out of the spare parts she salvaged but couldn't sell. They were on top of the building, keeping an eye out for any abomination attempting an attack on their humble abode.
"At least you've got a hobby that keeps you occupied." The young man walked towards her to check out her progress. Ren merely shook her head and kept on working. Just then, one of their senior members called their attention. It was another job but this time, they would have to go a little further out.
"Hey, this might be an opportunity!" The boy jumped up enthusiastically as he ran downstairs. Ren merely sighed and got up. Seems like she'll have to finish the Nutcracker on the road.
With much of the city outskirts lying in ruins, places where stragglers could find some decent sleep are rather scarce especially if one has to worry about various problems that come with dilapidated places like the ruined, unfinished skyscraper Ren and her small group of scouts resided in.
Leaks were very common, especially after rainy days when you'll just wake up drenched in ancient grime that fused with the water falling from above and surveying a building to find a half-inch deep pool spawning in the far right of the mess hall. At times, the people feel compelled to clean it up but most of the time, they just leave it all out in the open, waiting for the sun to do their job for them.
Sandstorms are a common sight as well. The dust in the nearby ruins gets blown by the harsh winds, making it difficult to breathe. Canvases were put up to try and fend off the winds but even these are all old, with multiple tears here and there.
Abominations do come yes but, it rarely happens as opposed to the former two. Waiting it out in the upper floors seem to work most of the times. On rare occasions, they may have to fight it out with their limited battle capability. Someone might die and in the event that someone does, there are no decent funerals. You were just buried in a mass grave dug behind the building--considering you were lucky enough for your body to be retrieved.
Yet life goes on for the people at the ruins. Ren's already got her usual schedule planned. Get up, go out and walk around the place. After three hours in the field, she returns and let others take their shift. Sometimes, she finds some items she wants to take home or sell for scrap. Maybe even find a few parts for the "Nutcracker" but most of the time, she's always empty-handed. Back in the day, she only needs to patrol two days a week but, losing people had forced them to go overtime to cover up for their fallen allies.
"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?" One of the boys currently on look out asked to no one in particular, catching Ren's attention. "I heard Cabara's got it better than this dump."
Ren didn't reply though as she was too busy working on the pressure mechanism on the Nutcracker; a weapon she was building out of the spare parts she salvaged but couldn't sell. They were on top of the building, keeping an eye out for any abomination attempting an attack on their humble abode.
"At least you've got a hobby that keeps you occupied." The young man walked towards her to check out her progress. Ren merely shook her head and kept on working. Just then, one of their senior members called their attention. It was another job but this time, they would have to go a little further out.
"Hey, this might be an opportunity!" The boy jumped up enthusiastically as he ran downstairs. Ren merely sighed and got up. Seems like she'll have to finish the Nutcracker on the road.
"Time to get up, little butterfly, today is the big day," a female voice calls out to Eurydice, it was the voice of her sister. Could it be that her prayers had finally been answered? She stirs, pressing herself up with her arms. Her vision was blurred from dust getting in her eyes. She began to rub them and her vision began to clear, only to see that worn down road full of cracks and bumps.
She sighs, almost put to tears, it was just in her head. She passes it off as just a pretty dream. "You don't dream, you don't even sleep anymore," screeches a distorted voice within her skull. Her eyes grow wide, and she snaps to her feet looking about, only to see shadowy apparitions of people gathering around her. Their eyes empty, mouths carved into crooked grins.
"Go away!" Her scream echoed through the ruins as she took to running in a mad dash. She paused and turned, her long messy hair going down over her face, she peeks out seeing nothing but the dusty ruins. They seemed so real, so tangible this time, but she was alone. At first this offered a moment of relief but it turned quickly into renewed despair. There was nothing for her here but ghosts... but what if the rest of the world is the same? What if she's the only thing left in this world?
"It is time to fly, little butterfly," she mutters as she attempts to shake the thought, motivating herself to begin walking down the road. She has no destination in mind, just a dim hope that maybe, perhaps, she is not alone in this world.
"Maybe there are more lonely butterflies," she thought. "But what if they are spiders instead..?"
She sighs, almost put to tears, it was just in her head. She passes it off as just a pretty dream. "You don't dream, you don't even sleep anymore," screeches a distorted voice within her skull. Her eyes grow wide, and she snaps to her feet looking about, only to see shadowy apparitions of people gathering around her. Their eyes empty, mouths carved into crooked grins.
"Go away!" Her scream echoed through the ruins as she took to running in a mad dash. She paused and turned, her long messy hair going down over her face, she peeks out seeing nothing but the dusty ruins. They seemed so real, so tangible this time, but she was alone. At first this offered a moment of relief but it turned quickly into renewed despair. There was nothing for her here but ghosts... but what if the rest of the world is the same? What if she's the only thing left in this world?
"It is time to fly, little butterfly," she mutters as she attempts to shake the thought, motivating herself to begin walking down the road. She has no destination in mind, just a dim hope that maybe, perhaps, she is not alone in this world.
"Maybe there are more lonely butterflies," she thought. "But what if they are spiders instead..?"
Joost's head remained unwrinkled, despite the sudden change and constant frowning. There were no ridges to note: only the reptillian pores of his skin comprised this organic surface, though something must have been lightly stagnating his skin all thin; what could it be than that meddlesome brow. Frown once, and you're stuck with an expression symbolising thoughts of fire like a hormone haunting you for a daunting three days. His skin was flattened, but took a kerb in accordance to the structure of his skull. Because of its elasticity: this part of his flesh may very well present that of a calcium frame that Joost possesses. Or hopes he possesses as he hasn't been dissected or scanned recently, living in a rural area concluded that. It seemed pasted like the fabric of a wall coloured in with red food colouring, and adding subtly immaculate diamond-shape scales crossing the craft, and stretched to fit in the same vein as wallpaper. It curved around in an uneven bracket shape that got progressively less steep towards atop his head. Towards a direction of stretched brackets; it could be argued by an idiot that his skin is paper, though a proffesional could rationally state, compare and contrast this to the model of a paper affixed with chemicals lay in this skin to the degree it was left attificial.
Below, Joost yields the capacity to yield a brow that is obtuse from the first angle at the perspective of bird's eye. It had snapped into a well-established configured position of a firm downward vision, and the problem with this for the sacrifice of his time was to allow it to click out again. If a moment passed and another lingering second severed its sail towards a place of steadily apparent lower time speed affection. Joost was prepared for all of this external stimuli supplied amptly and off-the-hand by the richly churned scent of nitrogen in the air, the trees flowing at their gaits full of purples that zipped into lighter purples, and coated with the cream of the clouds compromised with brown in other places in an unprompted act of kindness and flavour. Today Joost felt truly favoured in this regard; endless spans of oppurtunities to inherit this like a sensual bag of commodities and bring them to his creativity at great value. He needed not paint nor practice other mediums to provoke this non-vocational absorption of artistic knowledge and thought.
As life was good for him; the wind for him thus began to inherit the mentally indoctrinating ability that posessed him to think of the wind that was something that was always behind his back. He did feel this mushiness in his back temporarily freeze and turn into collapsible solidity as the wind was the final component scorching his back. This kind of scorching was scorching from exceptionally low temperatures rather than high, common in animals such as him. But he'd a lack of clear classification, he just noted that he'd experienced this drizzle to freeze combination more times than he'd care to recall.
Humans. Would he ever meet one again? A silent drowzy thought offered by a universal conscience.
He ignored it for now.
Seeking to call on the courage to leap to his feet, Joost was still slightly crouched as the tent's ceiling disciplined him, heavily restricting him from putting his head much more than level when he'd his current bedtime attire on. This discluded his finely and machinistically bound fibrous straw hat, which on the other hand wasn't all that rellevant to his height and may be worth dismissing to the life of the figure and measurements. In any case; his head was ducked by a good acute degrees and was immersed in ecstasy-inducing shelter from the rain. He'd noticed this was not quite where the tent's land ended, as if subliminally. He felt his maximum height able to raise but was still aware of a limit to his sky, placed by the will of the people above him labelled as a tent lobby roof.
The lack of rain gave it away. The prescence of many rain sounds but keeping an aware lack of intimacy, as if wearing a coat but the hood massively extended and consistent with twice the shielding capabilities gave him the impression something larger was ultimately taking him under its delicate maternal paws to shield him from the rain. Sadly, Joost couldn't familiarise himself with maternity, ever. No one had ever taught to him the taxes of emotion so great that it reached maternity. He just kept what is known as "platonically submissive" to the valuable item that improved his quality of life. Delicate maternal paws may have well been rugged maternal claws, and he wouldn't have gone for minuted without breaking from his familiar acceptance and hopping along to the new one. He decided it was pointless to fish around for stimuli at the moment. He limited himself to the grass and faraway tree; emanating closed body language and his whole stance vertical like that of a stout person in a rectangular ready made box. His legs glued together like pasted sterile ligiments of an unaroused man, and his hands lightly clasping each other around his back just before his narrow and bony hips by joining them together fingers to each thumb. It was assumed a default pattern by Joost now, one that he'd use for questioning, gathering items, and he'd shop about for other meanings, as if it wasn't quite ammounting to qnything compiling a list.
Eyes were quite beaming due to stimuli. It was possible by looking close to see the process of them becoming wetter and wetter with the strain of maintaining the strain. It was no justifiable or universal action and sometimes one area of the eye needed more lubrication than it got while the rest engorged in it and was splashing about in sensual wealth that would ultimqtely asphyxiate it, suffocate this. His iris took focus like a camera to the correct level of detail far-away, an odd event which he wondered if he were to be trialled on later as his body had now recognised the blinking of the eye.
Now he'd become all fidgety and have to blink for himself.
Below, Joost yields the capacity to yield a brow that is obtuse from the first angle at the perspective of bird's eye. It had snapped into a well-established configured position of a firm downward vision, and the problem with this for the sacrifice of his time was to allow it to click out again. If a moment passed and another lingering second severed its sail towards a place of steadily apparent lower time speed affection. Joost was prepared for all of this external stimuli supplied amptly and off-the-hand by the richly churned scent of nitrogen in the air, the trees flowing at their gaits full of purples that zipped into lighter purples, and coated with the cream of the clouds compromised with brown in other places in an unprompted act of kindness and flavour. Today Joost felt truly favoured in this regard; endless spans of oppurtunities to inherit this like a sensual bag of commodities and bring them to his creativity at great value. He needed not paint nor practice other mediums to provoke this non-vocational absorption of artistic knowledge and thought.
As life was good for him; the wind for him thus began to inherit the mentally indoctrinating ability that posessed him to think of the wind that was something that was always behind his back. He did feel this mushiness in his back temporarily freeze and turn into collapsible solidity as the wind was the final component scorching his back. This kind of scorching was scorching from exceptionally low temperatures rather than high, common in animals such as him. But he'd a lack of clear classification, he just noted that he'd experienced this drizzle to freeze combination more times than he'd care to recall.
Humans. Would he ever meet one again? A silent drowzy thought offered by a universal conscience.
He ignored it for now.
Seeking to call on the courage to leap to his feet, Joost was still slightly crouched as the tent's ceiling disciplined him, heavily restricting him from putting his head much more than level when he'd his current bedtime attire on. This discluded his finely and machinistically bound fibrous straw hat, which on the other hand wasn't all that rellevant to his height and may be worth dismissing to the life of the figure and measurements. In any case; his head was ducked by a good acute degrees and was immersed in ecstasy-inducing shelter from the rain. He'd noticed this was not quite where the tent's land ended, as if subliminally. He felt his maximum height able to raise but was still aware of a limit to his sky, placed by the will of the people above him labelled as a tent lobby roof.
The lack of rain gave it away. The prescence of many rain sounds but keeping an aware lack of intimacy, as if wearing a coat but the hood massively extended and consistent with twice the shielding capabilities gave him the impression something larger was ultimately taking him under its delicate maternal paws to shield him from the rain. Sadly, Joost couldn't familiarise himself with maternity, ever. No one had ever taught to him the taxes of emotion so great that it reached maternity. He just kept what is known as "platonically submissive" to the valuable item that improved his quality of life. Delicate maternal paws may have well been rugged maternal claws, and he wouldn't have gone for minuted without breaking from his familiar acceptance and hopping along to the new one. He decided it was pointless to fish around for stimuli at the moment. He limited himself to the grass and faraway tree; emanating closed body language and his whole stance vertical like that of a stout person in a rectangular ready made box. His legs glued together like pasted sterile ligiments of an unaroused man, and his hands lightly clasping each other around his back just before his narrow and bony hips by joining them together fingers to each thumb. It was assumed a default pattern by Joost now, one that he'd use for questioning, gathering items, and he'd shop about for other meanings, as if it wasn't quite ammounting to qnything compiling a list.
Eyes were quite beaming due to stimuli. It was possible by looking close to see the process of them becoming wetter and wetter with the strain of maintaining the strain. It was no justifiable or universal action and sometimes one area of the eye needed more lubrication than it got while the rest engorged in it and was splashing about in sensual wealth that would ultimqtely asphyxiate it, suffocate this. His iris took focus like a camera to the correct level of detail far-away, an odd event which he wondered if he were to be trialled on later as his body had now recognised the blinking of the eye.
Now he'd become all fidgety and have to blink for himself.
A fisherman at the bank of the lake was no uncommon sight down in Reick.
A massive dragon assembled from garbage however was more of a sight. Out on the edge of the lake on this stormy day Joe sat atop of Frank's head which loomed over the deeper waters. Under a busted parasol with a tarp pulled over top Joe sat reclined back on a bunch of tires, one foot up on an old metal pole held next to them while he lazily gripped his fishing rod. Calling it a fishing rod might of been a generous term as it was really just an old street sign pole with the sign having been taken off and replaced with a length of piano wire tipped with a small mangled piece of sharp metal that served as a makeshift fishing hook. At least the worm at the end was authentic.
Joe had been on the road for close to two years now. It was no easy living though with Frank it was much easier than most had it and it was far easier than living in Mekhnar. Now and days Joe could go for weeks without seeing a Daemon. However with new territories came new issues like always. People never quite trusted them, mainly because of Frank. Nobody ever really knew what to make of him. He was a large intimidating monster to be sure so most would usually jump to conclusions which often led to conflict, conflict which Joe and Frank could do without.
Needless to say neither of them were beloved around these parts. So long as they minded their business Joe minded his. He didn't want trouble so he typically avoided cities and camps, rolling solo like always. The only issues that he couldn't fix with his tools at the moment were ammunition and food. This was Joe's attempt at fixing the problem, at least for now. Some dried fish would help him make it past the week before he needed to find more. Looking on the bright side at least he didn't need to feed Frank. He never did understand Frank. By all appearances he seemed to not need anything at all. Was this really the case or did Frank just make do on his own? These were among many questions which Joe knew he was quite likely to never see an answer to, at least within the scope of the near future.
The present was the place he preferred to be anyways. Right then the rain which pounded atop his cover started to lessen to some relief. He didn't have any rain weather clothes or any change of clothes at all for that matter. It had been a month since he last found a pair of boots in better condition than the ones he used to have. Any tears in his clothes were either left unattended or at best poorly patched over with whatever fabrics he had at his disposal. Sewing was not a proficiency of his and it showed in his handiwork.
No tugs yet a thought lazily passed through his head as he relaxed, not at all worried at the moment. He knew there were things he couldn't necessarily know or weren't in his power to prevent but such were matters of the future, a time he had yet to be bothered with. He was well aware of the fishing town not far from him and Frank. Given Frank's size he knew for sure that the townsfolk knew they were by the lake. Joe never bothered them and they had yet to approach him. He hoped to keep it that way. He raised an eyebrow as he felt something in the pole that might of been a tug. He couldn't tell for sure since it stopped but his attention was well in the moment. He kept track of the terrain around him while he waited for any more ques to reel the line in and see if he got something.
A massive dragon assembled from garbage however was more of a sight. Out on the edge of the lake on this stormy day Joe sat atop of Frank's head which loomed over the deeper waters. Under a busted parasol with a tarp pulled over top Joe sat reclined back on a bunch of tires, one foot up on an old metal pole held next to them while he lazily gripped his fishing rod. Calling it a fishing rod might of been a generous term as it was really just an old street sign pole with the sign having been taken off and replaced with a length of piano wire tipped with a small mangled piece of sharp metal that served as a makeshift fishing hook. At least the worm at the end was authentic.
Joe had been on the road for close to two years now. It was no easy living though with Frank it was much easier than most had it and it was far easier than living in Mekhnar. Now and days Joe could go for weeks without seeing a Daemon. However with new territories came new issues like always. People never quite trusted them, mainly because of Frank. Nobody ever really knew what to make of him. He was a large intimidating monster to be sure so most would usually jump to conclusions which often led to conflict, conflict which Joe and Frank could do without.
Needless to say neither of them were beloved around these parts. So long as they minded their business Joe minded his. He didn't want trouble so he typically avoided cities and camps, rolling solo like always. The only issues that he couldn't fix with his tools at the moment were ammunition and food. This was Joe's attempt at fixing the problem, at least for now. Some dried fish would help him make it past the week before he needed to find more. Looking on the bright side at least he didn't need to feed Frank. He never did understand Frank. By all appearances he seemed to not need anything at all. Was this really the case or did Frank just make do on his own? These were among many questions which Joe knew he was quite likely to never see an answer to, at least within the scope of the near future.
The present was the place he preferred to be anyways. Right then the rain which pounded atop his cover started to lessen to some relief. He didn't have any rain weather clothes or any change of clothes at all for that matter. It had been a month since he last found a pair of boots in better condition than the ones he used to have. Any tears in his clothes were either left unattended or at best poorly patched over with whatever fabrics he had at his disposal. Sewing was not a proficiency of his and it showed in his handiwork.
No tugs yet a thought lazily passed through his head as he relaxed, not at all worried at the moment. He knew there were things he couldn't necessarily know or weren't in his power to prevent but such were matters of the future, a time he had yet to be bothered with. He was well aware of the fishing town not far from him and Frank. Given Frank's size he knew for sure that the townsfolk knew they were by the lake. Joe never bothered them and they had yet to approach him. He hoped to keep it that way. He raised an eyebrow as he felt something in the pole that might of been a tug. He couldn't tell for sure since it stopped but his attention was well in the moment. He kept track of the terrain around him while he waited for any more ques to reel the line in and see if he got something.
Setting
Characters Present
-
This was bad form. Is highly depersonalized and bloated with overly defined actions and clunky wording. Was hard to decipher and read. Suggest using clear and simpler language and flow in the future. Actions can be more simply defined as "blinked, squinted, grabbed, grasped" and so forth. This feels less like actions and more the analysis of actions. Think of the reader more.
by MartinVole
0.00 INK
Joost cathercised one of the supporting beams for the exterior tent. All of his fingers bore it like hooks, and to surpass those was his thumb, which had a whole medium pressed against the pole itself. Joost did not leave this position as concrete; it was not soon before the hand spiraled around. His arm thrusted back, and one of his legs was constricted around the other, forming an acute pin of force as he pirouetted forward onto the muculent grass. Joost was soon to dismiss the tent flooring and found himself on viscous ground. This was where the ground had its first true collision with the humidity of the atmosphere; tiny, icy moisture droplets gathered on Joost's face, which made him shiver. A veil from purgatory, a thick anti-nimbus of fog, was a moving feast for the valley. Water slithered down into the soil and allowed it to accumulate even greater incredulity of form.
Joost's brow was abrasive. He cajoled his lips to accept nothing and breathed irregularly through his nose. His eyes were doing a good job of bisecting the surrounding area like knives. As if it lost all will: his hand loosened, and left to his side with a flaccid dance. He took one hand up to his chin to allow his thumb and finger to massage it. His feet were close and compact, unwavering. What he looked at was the fog itself; it was not the trees, and it was not the birds. It was totally possible that he was being arrogant. His knees gained full faculty and he stood upright like a monolith. Below his eyes: his face went caliginous. His neck also seized the dim veil.
Joost's mind went on to think about purgatory. Noneffective temperatures coming from this fog made him feel some sort of judgement. Fog always subconsciously bonded him to that large machine of worth and non-worth. It wasn't exactly non-horrifying. He was acutely aware of what his acquaintances were doing, if they had sustained themselves for this long.
Before leaving: he accounted his materials. He had the bait, he'd received the stick of fishing from an inventory, which was bundled in his rucksack, supported by an ovular tin of flies. He made a quick plan: the fish would find themselves in a sort of purgatory; he must still have a light fly that could work as consumption to their will to dwell with only divine afterworlds-men. This would tackle them into what would be his dinner, with salad. As for their will: he was sure such facets would come afloat in the next form, as he broke the bread and the soul transcends.
Truly: Joost made one of his feet start what would be a long adjourn. Foot after foot after foot: he walked in incalculable, varied strides while looking up at the sky. The earth split gelatinously beneath him, and the death of an overgrowth befell the grass blades as they were stamped out by the figure. His weight lent to the foot was exceptionally substantiated and boor great weight. Joost was peering deep into the great expanse ahead, and the tree-towers, which had their branches made almost electrical by the indoctrination of the acerbic weather. They scratched out unnecessary and nonsensical directions to grow their leaves in. His gaze loosened slightly, and became more Machiavellian. While his head was facing forward: his eyes set on up. His arms moved back and forward with more stability than his strides, of which there was only one. The other hand was contemplating the stubble he'd accrued. He was travelling somewhere a little logically westwards, though he himself couldn't make much of any direction without the intuition of the compass or sun. The sun was a great hallucination as well; he'd studied it carefully enough to percieve that its starting and ending points enjoyed radical freedom, much to the annoyance of any custom.
Only thoughts, never speech, was he fuelled on while he walked. No path was built, and so he walked in an uneven and corrugated line such as was the corrugation built in to the workmanship of his foot. Joost winced; his subject was now the individual leaves of the trees. His foot upon each subsequent step landed heelfirst and quickly expanded to the rest, making each step an explosion. He was walking downhill towards some sort of reservoir, one in which there exists a pale and smooth earthbound bowl of water.
Joost's brow was abrasive. He cajoled his lips to accept nothing and breathed irregularly through his nose. His eyes were doing a good job of bisecting the surrounding area like knives. As if it lost all will: his hand loosened, and left to his side with a flaccid dance. He took one hand up to his chin to allow his thumb and finger to massage it. His feet were close and compact, unwavering. What he looked at was the fog itself; it was not the trees, and it was not the birds. It was totally possible that he was being arrogant. His knees gained full faculty and he stood upright like a monolith. Below his eyes: his face went caliginous. His neck also seized the dim veil.
Joost's mind went on to think about purgatory. Noneffective temperatures coming from this fog made him feel some sort of judgement. Fog always subconsciously bonded him to that large machine of worth and non-worth. It wasn't exactly non-horrifying. He was acutely aware of what his acquaintances were doing, if they had sustained themselves for this long.
Before leaving: he accounted his materials. He had the bait, he'd received the stick of fishing from an inventory, which was bundled in his rucksack, supported by an ovular tin of flies. He made a quick plan: the fish would find themselves in a sort of purgatory; he must still have a light fly that could work as consumption to their will to dwell with only divine afterworlds-men. This would tackle them into what would be his dinner, with salad. As for their will: he was sure such facets would come afloat in the next form, as he broke the bread and the soul transcends.
Truly: Joost made one of his feet start what would be a long adjourn. Foot after foot after foot: he walked in incalculable, varied strides while looking up at the sky. The earth split gelatinously beneath him, and the death of an overgrowth befell the grass blades as they were stamped out by the figure. His weight lent to the foot was exceptionally substantiated and boor great weight. Joost was peering deep into the great expanse ahead, and the tree-towers, which had their branches made almost electrical by the indoctrination of the acerbic weather. They scratched out unnecessary and nonsensical directions to grow their leaves in. His gaze loosened slightly, and became more Machiavellian. While his head was facing forward: his eyes set on up. His arms moved back and forward with more stability than his strides, of which there was only one. The other hand was contemplating the stubble he'd accrued. He was travelling somewhere a little logically westwards, though he himself couldn't make much of any direction without the intuition of the compass or sun. The sun was a great hallucination as well; he'd studied it carefully enough to percieve that its starting and ending points enjoyed radical freedom, much to the annoyance of any custom.
Only thoughts, never speech, was he fuelled on while he walked. No path was built, and so he walked in an uneven and corrugated line such as was the corrugation built in to the workmanship of his foot. Joost winced; his subject was now the individual leaves of the trees. His foot upon each subsequent step landed heelfirst and quickly expanded to the rest, making each step an explosion. He was walking downhill towards some sort of reservoir, one in which there exists a pale and smooth earthbound bowl of water.
- 13 posts here • Page 1 of 1
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View All » Add Character » 8 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
Joe Rex
"Yep."
Eurydice Reverence
A shadow of a girl who loved her family, consumed by the grief when they were killed on her sister's wedding day.
Joost Cromlyn Ovies
A snappy, red-skinned, megalomania driven daemon
Vel Tukaris
Tell me little mortal, what is your story?
Trending
Eurydice Reverence
A shadow of a girl who loved her family, consumed by the grief when they were killed on her sister's wedding day.
Joost Cromlyn Ovies
A snappy, red-skinned, megalomania driven daemon
Vel Tukaris
Tell me little mortal, what is your story?
Joe Rex
"Yep."
Most Followed
Joe Rex
"Yep."
Joost Cromlyn Ovies
A snappy, red-skinned, megalomania driven daemon
Vel Tukaris
Tell me little mortal, what is your story?
Eurydice Reverence
A shadow of a girl who loved her family, consumed by the grief when they were killed on her sister's wedding day.
View All » Places
7 posts · 4 characters present · last post 2016-06-27 18:20:44 »
Rithallae ↪ Reick Owner: ElusiveAuthor
A small, abandoned fishing village in Rithallae.
2 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2016-03-17 11:51:52 »
Rithallae ↪ Mekhnar Owner: ElusiveAuthor
An abandoned city-state a few miles land inward in the north-east of the Rithallae continent.
2 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2016-03-17 01:47:30 »
Oberos ↪ Rithallae Owner: ElusiveAuthor
The central continent, it is the smallest of the three. In the past it sported the densest population though, being heavily urbanized. To this day it is still the Industrial center of the world, even though most of it's people have fallen.
1 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2016-03-13 04:12:52 »
Enervis ↪ Lake Apial Owner: ElusiveAuthor
This lake has laid undisturbed since times immemorial by Elven Edict. Who knows what slumbers in it's depths?
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Enervis ↪ Cabara Owner: ElusiveAuthor
Largest of the city states due to the agricultural fields, it is less of a city-state, and more of a state in it's own right. For some reason the strongest Abominations leave it alone. But who are we to complain?
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Oberos ↪ Skaelliat Owner: ElusiveAuthor
Skaellia is the northern continent, and it's environment is harsh, unforgiving and rife with volcanic activity, This makes it a good place to gather various metals though. There is always work to be done here, and it is relatively safe from abominations.
0 posts · 1 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
This is were the Demons and Elves once lived, and humanity still survives. As opposed to the Realm of Gods.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
This is were the divine reside. One would think it a perfect heaven, but there is an undercurrent of discontent with Bastilon's rulings amongst a few of the Gods.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
This second planet is the planet most of the action happens on. A few city states are thinking of banding together and starting a space-program to help colonize the the third planet in the system though.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Third planet of the solar system, part of humanity is thinking of colonizing the lush planet. They would be wholly unprepared for the native species though.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Oberos ↪ Enervis Owner: ElusiveAuthor
Western-most and largest continent, this land is mostly used for agriculture of various kinds, although much lush forest remains. This is the most deadly of the continents, with lots of Elder Demons, and experiments escaped from secret Laboratories.
Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » The Forsaken: Out of Character
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The Forsaken
by ElusiveAuthor on Wed Mar 09, 2016 9:12 pm
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- Last post by Sovenric
on Thu Jun 23, 2016 9:16 am
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The Forsaken
Most recent OOC posts in The Forsaken
Re: The Forsaken
Zalgo posted in Reick; this means that there are two people in Reick now, and a dragon is also present. It might be possible now to have some sort of anecdote or collaboration
Perhaps, I wager the characters should meet up at Mekhnar, because it seems to be remote and good for hiding within
Perhaps, I wager the characters should meet up at Mekhnar, because it seems to be remote and good for hiding within
Re: The Forsaken
I apologize for my absence, but life has decided it didn't like how everything seemed to be going well for me for once, and I'm swamped with problems, whether it's my family, their house, my house, certain hospitalizations, chronic lack of sleep and other stuff.
I will try to get back to this as soon as I can, but I don't really have an ETA so far...
ps. I could have sworn I posted this before, but it seems I was wrong.
I will try to get back to this as soon as I can, but I don't really have an ETA so far...
ps. I could have sworn I posted this before, but it seems I was wrong.
Re: The Forsaken
I'm for whatever is most convenient for everyone. Eurydice is on the move and could easily bump into anyone else around the ruins of Mekhnar. She appears human right now, by the way.
Re: The Forsaken
Perhaps we should vote on where the characters should gather at. A common meeting ground should generate some interactions at the very least. I have an idea on how the gathering could take place too if anyone's interested.
Re: The Forsaken
Yeah, too many areas, we really do need some melting pot of sorts or some point of interest.
Re: The Forsaken
I think the problem lies in the fact that no one is able to interact with one another immediately due to starting off in different places.
Re: The Forsaken
Is everyone still active? I hope I'm not the only one still here.
We kinda... sorta... have a problem I guess? Not sure what to do about it.
We kinda... sorta... have a problem I guess? Not sure what to do about it.
Re: The Forsaken
- There is mention of industry and technology although it seems that magic is the most dominant power at play. How far has technology progressed exactly? Steampunk? Cyber?
Actually, magic is a relatively recent addition, whereas science has been advanced for a long time. It is true that magic is more accessible to the common people, due to everyone having it, as opposed to science, as most of the knowledge was kept by the governments that fell. The few city-states that do survive however, have no qualms in arming their civilians to deal with the occasional abomination.
As for advancement, it's not Steampunk. Between them and IRL science there's a gap of about 2 or 3 centuries in development in their favour. They could easily be on the level of a space-faring race, had it not been for the fact that they hadn't been all that interested in their space program before the Edicts.
- Suppose characters start at different places. Is there some kind of "melting pot" where you plan on having people meet and interact?
Not particularly (Although I did have vague intentions to start the rp at the Enervis continent), but there are tele-portals spread all over the continents, so even if your initial post is in one place, you can easily switch to another by simply including going through one of those in your post.
I was (perhaps naively) hoping that this would draw in enough people for it not to be an issue. I apologize. I will have to think about a solution for a bit.
Actually, magic is a relatively recent addition, whereas science has been advanced for a long time. It is true that magic is more accessible to the common people, due to everyone having it, as opposed to science, as most of the knowledge was kept by the governments that fell. The few city-states that do survive however, have no qualms in arming their civilians to deal with the occasional abomination.
As for advancement, it's not Steampunk. Between them and IRL science there's a gap of about 2 or 3 centuries in development in their favour. They could easily be on the level of a space-faring race, had it not been for the fact that they hadn't been all that interested in their space program before the Edicts.
- Suppose characters start at different places. Is there some kind of "melting pot" where you plan on having people meet and interact?
Not particularly (Although I did have vague intentions to start the rp at the Enervis continent), but there are tele-portals spread all over the continents, so even if your initial post is in one place, you can easily switch to another by simply including going through one of those in your post.
I was (perhaps naively) hoping that this would draw in enough people for it not to be an issue. I apologize. I will have to think about a solution for a bit.
Re: The Forsaken
The RP looks great. Love the amount of detail included in the lore introduction. I'm thinking of joining though I have a few questions first:
- There is mention of industry and technology although it seems that magic is the most dominant power at play. How far has technology progressed exactly? Steampunk? Cyber?
- Suppose characters start at different places. Is there some kind of "melting pot" where you plan on having people meet and interact?
- There is mention of industry and technology although it seems that magic is the most dominant power at play. How far has technology progressed exactly? Steampunk? Cyber?
- Suppose characters start at different places. Is there some kind of "melting pot" where you plan on having people meet and interact?
The Forsaken
Welcome everyone, to the OOC-part of 'the Forsaken'. While far from the level of the Multiverse, I intend for this world to be massive, as you can probably already note from the amount of places already added so far. True, some places like Titanis will initially be out of reach for the Oberosians and vice versa, but even that will change with time and attention.
Any questions? Spotted plotholes? Criticisms? I'd love to hear feedback, so I can develop this further.
Any questions? Spotted plotholes? Criticisms? I'd love to hear feedback, so I can develop this further.