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Post by The Free States of Isra on May 10, 2016 3:55:45 GMT -8
It may not have calmed Jun down, but it had certainly diffused things with the Dawn Riders, all of whom looked like they were doing their best not to join the dragon in his laughter. Rank-and-file soldiers tended to love it when the higher-ups got embarrassed. Many a joke and a laugh would be had later, though they...barely...managed to maintain their professionalism. Even Captain Aurelius couldn't help a half-smile from appearing on his face.
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The Black Tower
Established
Roleplay posts: 32
Registered: Apr 22, 2016 21:54:39 GMT -8
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Post by The Black Tower on May 10, 2016 10:36:32 GMT -8
The glow rippling up the exterior runes had become so frequent that it looked to nearly be a constant stream of light, and the glow around the top was swirling steadily. Whatever they were preparing, it was nearing completion.. it wouldn't be long before it was just waiting for the order to fire.
<Third Turn of Charge for The Kami>
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Lum'Valia
Dedicated
Normally a dragon, sometimes an angel, always good.
Roleplay posts: 325 
Age: 1248
Physical Description: 128 feet long from head to tail. Her eyes which are usually half lidded glow silver. Her scales are a bright white that glows with energy and her massive wings are covered in alabaster feathers. She is a dragon so of course, she is unspeakable beautiful like a work of art.
Her voice is a difficult thing to described. It is a languid thing low and sonorous. Each word she speaks seems to be set to some unheard melody and those who hear her voice often get wrapped up in it. It's almost as though everything she says is part of a comforting lullaby from your childhood wrapping you up making you feel safe.
She specializes in light and holy magics, and her breath attack is a torrent of purifying white flame. Her flame attacks not the body but the soul purging and cleansing evil on a spiritual level. Her flame can turn someone who has been led astray back to the path of good and destroy those who are truly evil. She of course also has all the fearsome physical capabilities of her kind.
In her angelic form, she is lovely. Standing at roughly 5'8 with a slim and curvaceous figure. Her skin is a glowing alabaster and she has large wings with ivory feathers. Her hair is a lustrous silver color and spills down to her mid back. Her features are delicate, with high cheek bones, a pert nose, full lips, and beautiful silver eyes. Currently, she is in her human form, which looks identical to her angelic form but with red hair, and eyes.
Clothes and Equipment: Dragons don't need gear.
Registered: Nov 26, 2015 20:26:13 GMT -8
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Post by Lum'Valia on May 10, 2016 11:43:52 GMT -8
Lum looked at the odd creature as it laughed. It was powerful certainly, but it had no appreciation for its situation. Lum wraps her sinuous neck around Jun as she redresses. There was plenty of room for the girl to dress while providing privacy for her. Blinking her luminous silver eyes she nuzzles Jun, the closest she can get to a hug in this form.
"You still have not told me why I was called."
In the sky above the Seraphim's Seal shines even brighter.
<Third turn of charge.>
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Jun of the Celadine
Widely Known
Roleplay posts: 1,410
Age: 28
Physical Description: Jun is a human adult, standing 5’4”. She is wiry and fit at approximately 120 lbs. She has olive skin, dark brown hair ending just above her shoulders, and slight epicanthic folds over her dark almond eyes. Her face is squarish with a small chin. Her skin is dotted with battle scars, and her left arm is heavily bandaged due to an unknown affliction.
Clothes and Equipment: Jun possesses a vast collection of seeds, herbs, insects, and scrolls hidden in various pouches in her armor. These serve as reagents for her multitude of spells. Her armor consists of a customized, long-coat style gambeson that is stuffed with a matrix of seeds and plant fibers. Fitted on top is a set of brass-like, enchanted half armor (chest piece, pauldrons, and tassets) which gives off a warm aura. She has an open-faced, burgonet style helmet and coif of the same materials.
Her most notable "weapons" are Blackbean and Resonance. Blackbean is an elephant-sized demon crow which has served with Jun for many years as a mount and as a bodyguard. A minor enchantment allows him to disguise himself as a regular crow. Resonance is an azure blue longsword with a mind of his own. He can intercept minor attacks and can teleport to his owner. He can also use a personal reserve of magic to aid in the casting of a single spell.
Allegiances: Isra
Player's online availability : Frequently
Registered: Mar 27, 2015 22:57:52 GMT -8
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Post by Jun of the Celadine on May 10, 2016 21:37:00 GMT -8
Jun's ward and light constructs continued to float around Glavilidom as she approached the table, fully dressed. She was surprised the creature could keep so calm, even laugh, at such a threat. Though she had to admit in retrospect she'd probably be very amused. After her little ordeal, she was far from hungry and refused to sit down, only making sure she was close enough to be able to speak to the creature comfortably.
"I'm going to assume that wasn't on purpose." She said coldly. Then she sighed.
"Aaaaanyways, talking peace is a fair assessment, yes. Lum'Valia was summoned as part of Isra's defense mechanisms against possible threats, in this case, you. I'd also direct your attention to the horizon." She gestured towards Isra's skyline behind her.
The Black Tower loomed in the distance and was glowing violently. "That... is not going to feel good when it hits you." She placed her hands on her hips. "What were you and your people thinking?" She would sound almost sympathetic and motherly at first. "You must have known this was a bad idea. Literally the best you could hope for as of now is exile from Isra, for both yourself and these pyromancer friends of yours. There's no other option for you. I personally won't accept any bribes or private deals and I can't think of anyone who would. Isra's troops are everywhere, and you're completely surrounded. Thousands of innocent people have been terrorized."
She folded her arms and her tone became more grave. "So that's essentially my opening and final offer. You and your people pay restitution for the fear and damage you've caused. Gold, all your weapons, your clothes, magical reagents, I don't care. Whatever you have on you. And then you and all of your pyromancy buddies, under heavy escort, leave, forever. Next time you and anyone identified as one of the pyromancers who rioted tonight are spotted trying to enter Isra's borders, you'll either be either arrested or killed."
Blackbean cawed in agreement, and Jun petted the top of his head. Jun shrugged. "That's it. You have half an hour. Any questions? Or would you rather find out what me, the giant magical tower back there, and a six story tall holy dragon's seraphim seal can do when we all attack together?"
Jun raised one of her hands in the air. "I'll give you 30 seconds to decide, during which time we'll all be happily building up more mana for our attacks." The glowing blades surrounding Glavilidom's neck would start to intensify, and the ward around her would also start to glow menacingly. Jun suddenly smirked sardonically. "Feel free to consult your god... oh, wait you are your god."
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Xel'rath
Committed
Roleplay posts: 83
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: If Xel'rath has a true form, it is unknown as to what it really looks like. It can take on the appearance of anything or anyone with complete perfection.
Clothes and Equipment: None, Xel'rath can conjure anything it needs along with it's many forms.
Player's online availability : Unknown
Registered: Nov 3, 2015 18:47:56 GMT -8
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Post by Xel'rath on May 10, 2016 22:54:38 GMT -8
Xel'rath would materialize in the area, at first a swirling mass of darkness before attaining the form of a human man with black hair. He did not wear any armor like many of the others, instead wearing only casual clothes that were dark in color. As soon as his presence manifested in the clearing and started channeling magic, the others would be able to notice immediately as a greedy pull on the local area's magic could be felt.
Xel'rath would look towards the table as he channeled his energy, his form's expression emotionless, "It seems I am late," he said offhandedly. Almost immediately, Attla would, if he was capable, notice a pressure begin to gather on his mind. Unnoticeable at first but growing by the moment as Xel'rath seeked to infiltrate it and read his thoughts. At the same moment he would mentally message Naoki.
I have arrived, I advise the best course of action to be to terminate the threat here and now. Chances of a reappearance of this particular threat would be 0% in such a scenario.
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Empress Naoki
Famous
Roleplay posts: 2,238
Physical Description: =========================
Empress Naoki is a curvaceous woman of average height, indeterminate age, and catlike features. Her hair is a dark auburn, often pulled back into a long braid. Her ears are both soft and fluffy, and her tail is never less than perfectly groomed. Amber eyes glisten in the shadows cast by her hair.
Clothes and Equipment: =========================
Naoki's wardrobe is to her as a frame is to a painting. Sometimes embellished with detail to be attractive in its own right, but never the focus. Usually simple but elegant, tightly fitting and highly revealing, used only to frame the beauty within.
Additionally, Naoki is, when clothed, often adorned with a small collection of accessories. She wears an earring, a brilliant cut amethyst, in her right ear. The silver signet ring of Isra is worn on her left pinky, marking her as High Lady of Isra. Directly adjacent, she wears the golden signet ring of The Isran Empire as its Empress. On the inside of her left thigh, there is a tattoo depicting a rose entwined with tentacles.
Allegiances: The Isran Empire
Player's online availability : Excessively often. Timezone: ET (-5)
Registered: Sept 12, 2015 13:02:17 GMT -8
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Post by Empress Naoki on May 11, 2016 1:09:29 GMT -8
Xel'rath would materialize in the area, at first a swirling mass of darkness before attaining the form of a human man with black hair. He did not wear any armor like many of the others, instead wearing only casual clothes that were dark in color. As soon as his presence manifested in the clearing and started channeling magic, the others would be able to notice immediately as a greedy pull on the local area's magic could be felt. Xel'rath would look towards the table as he channeled his energy, his form's expression emotionless, "It seems I am late," he said offhandedly. Almost immediately, Attla would, if he was capable, notice a pressure begin to gather on his mind. Unnoticeable at first but growing by the moment as Xel'rath seeked to infiltrate it and read his thoughts. At the same moment he would mentally message Naoki. I have arrived, I advise the best course of action to be to terminate the threat here and now. Chances of a reappearance of this particular threat would be 0% in such a scenario.The telepathic response from within The Citadel comes swiftly, and is relayed not only to Xel'rath, but each of Naoki's associates around the table. " I know; to simply eliminate this cretin now would arguably be the course of action. But bear in mind the setting. If each of you give it all you have to erase this scum from the face of this world, there will be fallout for miles around and permanent damage to the city. If at all possible, I'd like to avoid that. If it can be persuaded to leave, that would be infinitely preferable. It's not as if we cannot simply destroy it as soon as it's beyond city limits. Let's hear what it has to say before we take action." |
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 22, 2024 20:23:38 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on May 15, 2016 9:52:54 GMT -8
There was nothing left of this painfully slow drivel. Zera saw no point in staying. With more aimed pulls of her wings she turns and flies off for the abandoned tower to start to work on furnishing it.
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Attla, the Conniving
Committed
life
Roleplay posts: 84 
Age: 27
Physical Description: A shrewd and bent over nomad, deprived of food at a young age, giving him malnutrition. His thin bones and muscle weaken him physically. He is just 5 foot 5 inches and has a weak and flimsy gait.
He is usually wearing a form of battered cloak, over black robes that hang loosely across his protruding figure.
His weakness extends to his legs, where he cannot run effectively. Instead, he must hobble at a slow pace, making him simple to outrun.
To most people he would be considered an outcast, a useless fruit of society, living off the work of others in a parasitical one-sided form of symbiosis.
His face is droopy, his eyelids purple, a permenant state caused by his lack of sleep. He is an insomniac and thusly has use magical means to get himself to sleep.
He has beard, congealed with silver and brown hairs, which is spewed haphazardly across his chin, in an ugly show of his unclealiness.
His hair is a mess of dirt and grime. It is hard to gauge of his hair is brown, or it is merely the mud that lumps together inside of it.
His eyes, a brilliant green iris, contrasted by the vicious red tendrils in his eyes, a sign of bleariness and tiredness.
His nose is long and angular, ending at the near hidden, slim mouth stuck in a grimace of pain and anguish.
He near always has a thin cover of sweat across his body, with little pieces of grit mixed in, like a foul soup.
Clothes and Equipment: As mentioned, he has a black, torn and weak robe, covering a small fleece of sheep's wool. Over this robe, a battered and torn black cloak covers him fully. His is connected to his robe by a simple headwrap, creating a black hood to shield himself from the sun with.
He wears large leather boots, worn and old, with obvious mistreatment. No attempt to clean his boots has been made.
He carries a twisted and gnarled ironwood root, as a walking stick and makeshift weapon. He uses it as a way of casting magic, using it to gather energy in the same way a lightning rod would conduct lightning.
Underneath his robe he carries a satchel. In the satchel he keeps a small coin purse, and a small box where he keeps various nefarious equipment, such as lock-picks, needles, small daggers and some throwing darts, all of these stolen or created by him.
Registered: Mar 18, 2016 23:24:09 GMT -8
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Post by Attla, the Conniving on May 16, 2016 2:36:44 GMT -8
Glavilidom was fearful, to say the least. The weapons used against him, if fired, wouldn't destroy him, but they would blow apart his form so much, he would be shattered; his soul split into multiple pieces. This would be disastrous, for it would take many, many years to reform, if he were to survive.
He was also angry, however. Angry that people would have so quickly to have forsaken his image. Angry, but deeply hurt.
"Why can't your leader round them up? Is this city's leader inept? I would have thought that taking down these criminals, would be but a simple task, especially for somebody who owned a city of such size and I can only infer a large military to back it up. Do you need to ask for a god's assistance, every time you have a tiny issue to fix?"
He continued, rage building up within him, a state which he is not typically in.
"I'll be honest here, I only came as I wished to re-educate my believers, as they have strayed from their path. Therefore I hijacked the high-priest of my religion. How about you round them up yourselves? You leech off of my heavenly wisdom each day! And yet I am given nothing in return, no fruits for my labour? Instead, I order you to get them for me, so I may teach them their wrongdoings. I shall wait here, upon this table for that to happen."
He paused for a second, determined to keep talking, interrupting whoever may try to interject between his next part of his speech.
"In fact, I am the one wronged here. I never lifted a single finger against you and you threatened me you... you savages!"
Besides that, I expect you to pay me in reparations. You assaulted a god for no reason, consider yourself lucky that I did not curse you all for eternity!"
He paused, before beginning again.
"I am merciful, however."
He meant every single thing he said within his speech, he never concealed the truth, he considered himself a righteous god, a god which wouldn't wrong any man, unless he had been wronged himself beforehand.
He stared at the crowd, a gaze of iron, most men would attempt to avert their gaze from him, as he would roll his eyes across their faces.
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Jun of the Celadine
Widely Known
Roleplay posts: 1,410
Age: 28
Physical Description: Jun is a human adult, standing 5’4”. She is wiry and fit at approximately 120 lbs. She has olive skin, dark brown hair ending just above her shoulders, and slight epicanthic folds over her dark almond eyes. Her face is squarish with a small chin. Her skin is dotted with battle scars, and her left arm is heavily bandaged due to an unknown affliction.
Clothes and Equipment: Jun possesses a vast collection of seeds, herbs, insects, and scrolls hidden in various pouches in her armor. These serve as reagents for her multitude of spells. Her armor consists of a customized, long-coat style gambeson that is stuffed with a matrix of seeds and plant fibers. Fitted on top is a set of brass-like, enchanted half armor (chest piece, pauldrons, and tassets) which gives off a warm aura. She has an open-faced, burgonet style helmet and coif of the same materials.
Her most notable "weapons" are Blackbean and Resonance. Blackbean is an elephant-sized demon crow which has served with Jun for many years as a mount and as a bodyguard. A minor enchantment allows him to disguise himself as a regular crow. Resonance is an azure blue longsword with a mind of his own. He can intercept minor attacks and can teleport to his owner. He can also use a personal reserve of magic to aid in the casting of a single spell.
Allegiances: Isra
Player's online availability : Frequently
Registered: Mar 27, 2015 22:57:52 GMT -8
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Post by Jun of the Celadine on May 16, 2016 9:36:11 GMT -8
Jun shook her head. "This has nothing to do with being a god! This has to do with justice and doing the right thing. If these pyromancers are your worshipers, then you have to take some responsibility for their actions! They attacked Isra and Isra WILL round them up. But if you don't accept my offer then their fate will be entirely out of your hands. If you love your followers as any god should, you'll help round them up and take them out of Isra, for their sake."
Jun's eyes suddenly widened when, via the Midnight Sun's telepathic link, she saw Alden hovering over the body of a seriously injured man, covered in burns and missing a hand.
"At least one of your followers in is dire need of medical attention already. He'll die soon if nothing is done. I implore you, do as I say so we can end this peacefully without further bloodshed. If you say you're a merciful god... then BE a merciful god."
Although Jun's face was fearless, she was sincere. She only wanted peace in the end.
"... I...I can heal the injured myself if you want."
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The Black Tower
Established
Roleplay posts: 32
Registered: Apr 22, 2016 21:54:39 GMT -8
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Post by The Black Tower on May 16, 2016 11:23:15 GMT -8
The steady glow only continued to grow brighter as the weapon reached maximum capacity, filled with so much power that it was literally thrumming with energy. For quite a distance around the structure, the ground was filled with a low, steady vibration that was all the more intense inside the building itself. It was ready to fire at a moment's notice, now, and the immense power it already held only continued to build with every moment that it spent idling, waiting for the chance to hurl its payload at the threat in the Plaza.
<Fourth Turn of Charge for The Kami>
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Attla, the Conniving
Committed
life
Roleplay posts: 84
Age: 27
Physical Description: A shrewd and bent over nomad, deprived of food at a young age, giving him malnutrition. His thin bones and muscle weaken him physically. He is just 5 foot 5 inches and has a weak and flimsy gait.
He is usually wearing a form of battered cloak, over black robes that hang loosely across his protruding figure.
His weakness extends to his legs, where he cannot run effectively. Instead, he must hobble at a slow pace, making him simple to outrun.
To most people he would be considered an outcast, a useless fruit of society, living off the work of others in a parasitical one-sided form of symbiosis.
His face is droopy, his eyelids purple, a permenant state caused by his lack of sleep. He is an insomniac and thusly has use magical means to get himself to sleep.
He has beard, congealed with silver and brown hairs, which is spewed haphazardly across his chin, in an ugly show of his unclealiness.
His hair is a mess of dirt and grime. It is hard to gauge of his hair is brown, or it is merely the mud that lumps together inside of it.
His eyes, a brilliant green iris, contrasted by the vicious red tendrils in his eyes, a sign of bleariness and tiredness.
His nose is long and angular, ending at the near hidden, slim mouth stuck in a grimace of pain and anguish.
He near always has a thin cover of sweat across his body, with little pieces of grit mixed in, like a foul soup.
Clothes and Equipment: As mentioned, he has a black, torn and weak robe, covering a small fleece of sheep's wool. Over this robe, a battered and torn black cloak covers him fully. His is connected to his robe by a simple headwrap, creating a black hood to shield himself from the sun with.
He wears large leather boots, worn and old, with obvious mistreatment. No attempt to clean his boots has been made.
He carries a twisted and gnarled ironwood root, as a walking stick and makeshift weapon. He uses it as a way of casting magic, using it to gather energy in the same way a lightning rod would conduct lightning.
Underneath his robe he carries a satchel. In the satchel he keeps a small coin purse, and a small box where he keeps various nefarious equipment, such as lock-picks, needles, small daggers and some throwing darts, all of these stolen or created by him.
Registered: Mar 18, 2016 23:24:09 GMT -8
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Post by Attla, the Conniving on May 22, 2016 2:15:38 GMT -8
Glavilidom searched for the minds of his followers, piercing into the depths of their coinsciences. Immediately, he was informed of their drunken state, the depressant of alcohol slurring their thoughts.
Those damned fools!
It was of their own fault that this problem had occurred anyway? How could he as a god, allow his people to be so quickly ripped from their righteous path? Was his teachings flawed? What is wrong with him? Is he truly fit to rule mortals, if has proved himself such a fool? He cannot trust. He will not trust mortals again. They are evil. Naturally evil. Despicable. A blight upon this world. And I, Glavilidom, have finally seen the light! He was right in only trusting dragons!
And yet he felt he was wrong. He was a wreck, a shell of his former godly self. He had doubted the one thing that defines him the most: trust. Trust in his disciples, that they would follow his image. To be good, to help others.
For the first time his 'wise' mind could not think of a solution. He had nowhere to go, nobody to go to. He was but a child of a god, only several centuries old. He was inexperienced and weak, the weakest god of all the gods.
His form deteoriarated, losing it's ethereal glow. He appeared as if he were a normal human, then back, cycling forwards and backwards. He was losing himself. His essence. His being.
He was weak, and one could see that. He was destroying himself, unconsciously.
ATTLA
Attla was of course coinscious for this entire affair. What a hilarity this God had turned out to be! He would crush this gibbering wreck, within his form. Just as planned. The destruction of this god would give him a whole host of opportunities! No longer would they question him! No god could suade their minds to the righteous path. Glavilidom was a fool thinking he, no matter how powerful he was, could best Attla and tear down HIS domain, in which he has spent so very long planning, and constructing.
He would of course not destroy the God, that would prove disastrous. Instead he would enslave the god to his whim. A banishing spell at this time would destroy the god, therefore he would threaten Glavilidom with it. With his weakened state, he would be forced to sign the contract in which Attla had devised. Such a contract would be naturally one-sided, but death is an excellent persuader.
If one was a particularly perceptive mage, they would spot the ether-wordly form of Attla, a black shade disconnected from his form. They would also be able to detect the banishment spell in which he was preparing. Perhaps they would also know that Glavilidom would be obliterated if they were to not take action.
<Begin charging, two turns, Attla's Contract>
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Jun of the Celadine
Widely Known
Roleplay posts: 1,410
Age: 28
Physical Description: Jun is a human adult, standing 5’4”. She is wiry and fit at approximately 120 lbs. She has olive skin, dark brown hair ending just above her shoulders, and slight epicanthic folds over her dark almond eyes. Her face is squarish with a small chin. Her skin is dotted with battle scars, and her left arm is heavily bandaged due to an unknown affliction.
Clothes and Equipment: Jun possesses a vast collection of seeds, herbs, insects, and scrolls hidden in various pouches in her armor. These serve as reagents for her multitude of spells. Her armor consists of a customized, long-coat style gambeson that is stuffed with a matrix of seeds and plant fibers. Fitted on top is a set of brass-like, enchanted half armor (chest piece, pauldrons, and tassets) which gives off a warm aura. She has an open-faced, burgonet style helmet and coif of the same materials.
Her most notable "weapons" are Blackbean and Resonance. Blackbean is an elephant-sized demon crow which has served with Jun for many years as a mount and as a bodyguard. A minor enchantment allows him to disguise himself as a regular crow. Resonance is an azure blue longsword with a mind of his own. He can intercept minor attacks and can teleport to his owner. He can also use a personal reserve of magic to aid in the casting of a single spell.
Allegiances: Isra
Player's online availability : Frequently
Registered: Mar 27, 2015 22:57:52 GMT -8
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Post by Jun of the Celadine on May 24, 2016 16:03:39 GMT -8
Jun sensed the ethereal form of Attla, but frankly she had no idea what was happening. One minute she was talking with Glavilidom, next Glavilidom's form seemed to be becoming unstable. She didn't want to attack with the light constructs because she simply couldn't understand what was happening.
She could however sense a banishing spell. Was it being cast by the host? The dragon god seemed like it was starting to come around, but she knew absolutely nothing about Attla.
Jun decided to take a chance. One of the light constructs suddenly flew down and, with its flat side, would whack the host's body with enough force to throw him off his feet. The holy light from the construct would hopefully strike Attla even if he was more on the side of a non-corporeal shadow. Hopefully this would interrupt the banishing spell and allow the dragon to continue speaking.
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Attla, the Conniving
Committed
life
Roleplay posts: 84
Age: 27
Physical Description: A shrewd and bent over nomad, deprived of food at a young age, giving him malnutrition. His thin bones and muscle weaken him physically. He is just 5 foot 5 inches and has a weak and flimsy gait.
He is usually wearing a form of battered cloak, over black robes that hang loosely across his protruding figure.
His weakness extends to his legs, where he cannot run effectively. Instead, he must hobble at a slow pace, making him simple to outrun.
To most people he would be considered an outcast, a useless fruit of society, living off the work of others in a parasitical one-sided form of symbiosis.
His face is droopy, his eyelids purple, a permenant state caused by his lack of sleep. He is an insomniac and thusly has use magical means to get himself to sleep.
He has beard, congealed with silver and brown hairs, which is spewed haphazardly across his chin, in an ugly show of his unclealiness.
His hair is a mess of dirt and grime. It is hard to gauge of his hair is brown, or it is merely the mud that lumps together inside of it.
His eyes, a brilliant green iris, contrasted by the vicious red tendrils in his eyes, a sign of bleariness and tiredness.
His nose is long and angular, ending at the near hidden, slim mouth stuck in a grimace of pain and anguish.
He near always has a thin cover of sweat across his body, with little pieces of grit mixed in, like a foul soup.
Clothes and Equipment: As mentioned, he has a black, torn and weak robe, covering a small fleece of sheep's wool. Over this robe, a battered and torn black cloak covers him fully. His is connected to his robe by a simple headwrap, creating a black hood to shield himself from the sun with.
He wears large leather boots, worn and old, with obvious mistreatment. No attempt to clean his boots has been made.
He carries a twisted and gnarled ironwood root, as a walking stick and makeshift weapon. He uses it as a way of casting magic, using it to gather energy in the same way a lightning rod would conduct lightning.
Underneath his robe he carries a satchel. In the satchel he keeps a small coin purse, and a small box where he keeps various nefarious equipment, such as lock-picks, needles, small daggers and some throwing darts, all of these stolen or created by him.
Registered: Mar 18, 2016 23:24:09 GMT -8
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Post by Attla, the Conniving on May 28, 2016 8:36:05 GMT -8
He was of course jolted by the attack, his non-corporeal form still visibly impacted by the bolt. He was frustrated by her attack. He was working with them to eradicate Glavilidom! He was doing their dirty work! No praise for a good honest old-fashioned god threatening? Atrocious manners!
He shifted himself towards Jun, knowing full-well she could see him, attempting to commence telepathic contact. He broadcasted his thoughts, making careful attempts to only direct them towards Jun.
'Please, stop shooting the God! I'm killing him for you, do you understand? We're fighting for the same cause, to kill this overgrown lizard! Why must you resist in such a fashion?'
Control of Glavilidom was almost within his wizened palms, the sweet taste of it could be felt upon his lips! Oh, he could not wait to dominate this inferior fool!
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Jun of the Celadine
Widely Known
Roleplay posts: 1,410
Age: 28
Physical Description: Jun is a human adult, standing 5’4”. She is wiry and fit at approximately 120 lbs. She has olive skin, dark brown hair ending just above her shoulders, and slight epicanthic folds over her dark almond eyes. Her face is squarish with a small chin. Her skin is dotted with battle scars, and her left arm is heavily bandaged due to an unknown affliction.
Clothes and Equipment: Jun possesses a vast collection of seeds, herbs, insects, and scrolls hidden in various pouches in her armor. These serve as reagents for her multitude of spells. Her armor consists of a customized, long-coat style gambeson that is stuffed with a matrix of seeds and plant fibers. Fitted on top is a set of brass-like, enchanted half armor (chest piece, pauldrons, and tassets) which gives off a warm aura. She has an open-faced, burgonet style helmet and coif of the same materials.
Her most notable "weapons" are Blackbean and Resonance. Blackbean is an elephant-sized demon crow which has served with Jun for many years as a mount and as a bodyguard. A minor enchantment allows him to disguise himself as a regular crow. Resonance is an azure blue longsword with a mind of his own. He can intercept minor attacks and can teleport to his owner. He can also use a personal reserve of magic to aid in the casting of a single spell.
Allegiances: Isra
Player's online availability : Frequently
Registered: Mar 27, 2015 22:57:52 GMT -8
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Post by Jun of the Celadine on May 29, 2016 9:04:28 GMT -8
Jun was infuriated. What the hell was wrong with these people?! She wanted to negotiate with these people, but nooo... She didn't even care what was going on anymore. She just wanted this situation over with.
Taken aback, she sputtered. "I... the... WHAT?! No one said, I didn't say, what the... ALRIGHT THAT IS IT!"
Jun raised her hand in the air. The energy from the light constructs broke apart into a bunch of brightly glowing fragments, like shards of glass. Her ward concentrated all the energy it had gathered into a shining sphere of fire which appeared above her. With Resonance as the focal point, the fire ball attracted the shards of light, which began to orbit the sphere. The odd structure hummed loudly.
"No one said anything about killing anyone and no one is killing anyone! Isra will take care of what's left of the pyromancers. Just, get out of Isra! Leave! Both you and your host, out!" She drew her sword back and entered an offensive stance. The floating structure hummed even louder.
She whispered to her self. "Fire Art... Resonant Holy..."
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Post by The Free States of Isra on May 29, 2016 16:14:43 GMT -8
As Jun drew her sword and threatened the host, the Dawn Riders would do the same, seeing a fellow member conversing with an incorporeal being that they could not see, and who was acting against the interests of Isra was enough to convince them to draw their steel and form up on Jun. They were ready to act against anything that their Commander or one of the powers that be ordered them to.
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The Black Tower
Established
Roleplay posts: 32
Registered: Apr 22, 2016 21:54:39 GMT -8
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Post by The Black Tower on May 29, 2016 18:21:27 GMT -8
The Black Tower was nearly vibrating with the force of the stored energy. Still waiting on that firing order.. or the command to stand down.
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Attla, the Conniving
Committed
life
Roleplay posts: 84
Age: 27
Physical Description: A shrewd and bent over nomad, deprived of food at a young age, giving him malnutrition. His thin bones and muscle weaken him physically. He is just 5 foot 5 inches and has a weak and flimsy gait.
He is usually wearing a form of battered cloak, over black robes that hang loosely across his protruding figure.
His weakness extends to his legs, where he cannot run effectively. Instead, he must hobble at a slow pace, making him simple to outrun.
To most people he would be considered an outcast, a useless fruit of society, living off the work of others in a parasitical one-sided form of symbiosis.
His face is droopy, his eyelids purple, a permenant state caused by his lack of sleep. He is an insomniac and thusly has use magical means to get himself to sleep.
He has beard, congealed with silver and brown hairs, which is spewed haphazardly across his chin, in an ugly show of his unclealiness.
His hair is a mess of dirt and grime. It is hard to gauge of his hair is brown, or it is merely the mud that lumps together inside of it.
His eyes, a brilliant green iris, contrasted by the vicious red tendrils in his eyes, a sign of bleariness and tiredness.
His nose is long and angular, ending at the near hidden, slim mouth stuck in a grimace of pain and anguish.
He near always has a thin cover of sweat across his body, with little pieces of grit mixed in, like a foul soup.
Clothes and Equipment: As mentioned, he has a black, torn and weak robe, covering a small fleece of sheep's wool. Over this robe, a battered and torn black cloak covers him fully. His is connected to his robe by a simple headwrap, creating a black hood to shield himself from the sun with.
He wears large leather boots, worn and old, with obvious mistreatment. No attempt to clean his boots has been made.
He carries a twisted and gnarled ironwood root, as a walking stick and makeshift weapon. He uses it as a way of casting magic, using it to gather energy in the same way a lightning rod would conduct lightning.
Underneath his robe he carries a satchel. In the satchel he keeps a small coin purse, and a small box where he keeps various nefarious equipment, such as lock-picks, needles, small daggers and some throwing darts, all of these stolen or created by him.
Registered: Mar 18, 2016 23:24:09 GMT -8
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Post by Attla, the Conniving on May 30, 2016 0:04:03 GMT -8
Glavilidom curled himself up into a ball. It was all crushing down upon him. Why? Why?! He had done no wrong! He had never acted wrongly!
"Kill me then. Kill me. KILL ME!",
"Kill me as you heartless bastards have killed millions before! Rend my flesh with your murderous intent!"
"You!" He turned his head toward Jun.
He spoke with primal truth, empowering his words with a god's tongue; speaking with raw emotion.
"You! You heartless bitch! You stunted, decrepid monster! You have no empathy! Nothing! A heartless monster who exists to bring misery upon others, slaughtering and killing as you please!"
He broke down sobbing, dropping his form onto the ground, where he lay. The cold, cold cobbles breached his heavenly skin. He didn't want to die! All his life he had strived for wisdom, for knowledge, to better everybody's lives. And here he was, upon his deathbed.
He stared up towards the ball of flame, choking with his tears.
His host was there, snickering. His hatred of Attla was pure, raw. He did this all. He did all of this to me. He works for Jun, he decided. Jun did this all. He did not a thing. He kept telling himself his twisted reality, his eyes clouded with lies and tears.
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Jun of the Celadine
Widely Known
Roleplay posts: 1,410
Age: 28
Physical Description: Jun is a human adult, standing 5’4”. She is wiry and fit at approximately 120 lbs. She has olive skin, dark brown hair ending just above her shoulders, and slight epicanthic folds over her dark almond eyes. Her face is squarish with a small chin. Her skin is dotted with battle scars, and her left arm is heavily bandaged due to an unknown affliction.
Clothes and Equipment: Jun possesses a vast collection of seeds, herbs, insects, and scrolls hidden in various pouches in her armor. These serve as reagents for her multitude of spells. Her armor consists of a customized, long-coat style gambeson that is stuffed with a matrix of seeds and plant fibers. Fitted on top is a set of brass-like, enchanted half armor (chest piece, pauldrons, and tassets) which gives off a warm aura. She has an open-faced, burgonet style helmet and coif of the same materials.
Her most notable "weapons" are Blackbean and Resonance. Blackbean is an elephant-sized demon crow which has served with Jun for many years as a mount and as a bodyguard. A minor enchantment allows him to disguise himself as a regular crow. Resonance is an azure blue longsword with a mind of his own. He can intercept minor attacks and can teleport to his owner. He can also use a personal reserve of magic to aid in the casting of a single spell.
Allegiances: Isra
Player's online availability : Frequently
Registered: Mar 27, 2015 22:57:52 GMT -8
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Post by Jun of the Celadine on May 30, 2016 11:01:40 GMT -8
Jun would send a quick telepathic message to Naoki. Don't fire the tower.
"I said, NO ONE IS KILLING ANYONE!" Jun screeched. Enough was enough. "Everyone get back!" As soon as everyone was out of range, she swung her sword down and finished her incantation.
"-Fire ball!"
The fiery sphere glowed violently for a fraction of a second before darting towards the host.
The sphere consisted of holy flames, capable of inflicting massive damage towards malevolent beings. The caveat was this particular type of attack wasn't capable of dealing a killing blow (except against certain creatures like undead). It could cause massive physical damage, third degree burns, could even shatter stone walls, but it would always stop short of ending the heartbeat of anyone caught in its area of effect, which in this case was focused on the host and the so-called god. It also had a tendency to "burn away evil", a strange sort of psychological effect that allowed the victim to see the truth behind their own intentions and how they were affecting others, without being influenced by their own psychological constructs, deceptions, or foreign negative influences. It was as though the flames would temporarily envelop a person's very soul and let them see reality as it truly was.
The blast would crack Glavilidom's banquet table in half and send food flying everywhere. The burst of wind would send anyone too close off their feet. A short flash of light would illuminate the entire plaza, followed by rapidly propagating flames spread forward in a 90 degree cone a dozen meters or so. After that, everything would abruptly go dark and there would be an eerie silence.
If it connected, it was extremely likely that Glavilidom and Attla's interactions would cease for the moment. If Attla wanted to consume the powers of a god, he'd have to do it on his own time.
Whether it struck or not, there would probably be a nice little impact crater in the middle of the plaza, just behind what was left of the banquet table.
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Lum'Valia
Dedicated
Normally a dragon, sometimes an angel, always good.
Roleplay posts: 325
Age: 1248
Physical Description: 128 feet long from head to tail. Her eyes which are usually half lidded glow silver. Her scales are a bright white that glows with energy and her massive wings are covered in alabaster feathers. She is a dragon so of course, she is unspeakable beautiful like a work of art.
Her voice is a difficult thing to described. It is a languid thing low and sonorous. Each word she speaks seems to be set to some unheard melody and those who hear her voice often get wrapped up in it. It's almost as though everything she says is part of a comforting lullaby from your childhood wrapping you up making you feel safe.
She specializes in light and holy magics, and her breath attack is a torrent of purifying white flame. Her flame attacks not the body but the soul purging and cleansing evil on a spiritual level. Her flame can turn someone who has been led astray back to the path of good and destroy those who are truly evil. She of course also has all the fearsome physical capabilities of her kind.
In her angelic form, she is lovely. Standing at roughly 5'8 with a slim and curvaceous figure. Her skin is a glowing alabaster and she has large wings with ivory feathers. Her hair is a lustrous silver color and spills down to her mid back. Her features are delicate, with high cheek bones, a pert nose, full lips, and beautiful silver eyes. Currently, she is in her human form, which looks identical to her angelic form but with red hair, and eyes.
Clothes and Equipment: Dragons don't need gear.
Registered: Nov 26, 2015 20:26:13 GMT -8
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Post by Lum'Valia on May 30, 2016 12:59:47 GMT -8
This was all getting rather silly, Lum thought with a sigh. The odd creature was writhing on the ground. She could see two souls warring for dominance within and it was all rather exasperating since no one had told her what was going on. Jun was tossing around gouts of holy fire and she was rather wondering why she had been called. Lum sighs and drops the Seraphim's Seal enveloping the area of the central plaza in it. The Seraphim's Seal of Chastity takes hold and the celestial plane overlaps with the real. No harm can be done directly or indirectly, negative thoughts become nearly impossible to think, and wound begin to knit shut.
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Attla, the Conniving
Committed
life
Roleplay posts: 84
Age: 27
Physical Description: A shrewd and bent over nomad, deprived of food at a young age, giving him malnutrition. His thin bones and muscle weaken him physically. He is just 5 foot 5 inches and has a weak and flimsy gait.
He is usually wearing a form of battered cloak, over black robes that hang loosely across his protruding figure.
His weakness extends to his legs, where he cannot run effectively. Instead, he must hobble at a slow pace, making him simple to outrun.
To most people he would be considered an outcast, a useless fruit of society, living off the work of others in a parasitical one-sided form of symbiosis.
His face is droopy, his eyelids purple, a permenant state caused by his lack of sleep. He is an insomniac and thusly has use magical means to get himself to sleep.
He has beard, congealed with silver and brown hairs, which is spewed haphazardly across his chin, in an ugly show of his unclealiness.
His hair is a mess of dirt and grime. It is hard to gauge of his hair is brown, or it is merely the mud that lumps together inside of it.
His eyes, a brilliant green iris, contrasted by the vicious red tendrils in his eyes, a sign of bleariness and tiredness.
His nose is long and angular, ending at the near hidden, slim mouth stuck in a grimace of pain and anguish.
He near always has a thin cover of sweat across his body, with little pieces of grit mixed in, like a foul soup.
Clothes and Equipment: As mentioned, he has a black, torn and weak robe, covering a small fleece of sheep's wool. Over this robe, a battered and torn black cloak covers him fully. His is connected to his robe by a simple headwrap, creating a black hood to shield himself from the sun with.
He wears large leather boots, worn and old, with obvious mistreatment. No attempt to clean his boots has been made.
He carries a twisted and gnarled ironwood root, as a walking stick and makeshift weapon. He uses it as a way of casting magic, using it to gather energy in the same way a lightning rod would conduct lightning.
Underneath his robe he carries a satchel. In the satchel he keeps a small coin purse, and a small box where he keeps various nefarious equipment, such as lock-picks, needles, small daggers and some throwing darts, all of these stolen or created by him.
Registered: Mar 18, 2016 23:24:09 GMT -8
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Post by Attla, the Conniving on Jun 1, 2016 3:19:15 GMT -8
Attla was immediately interrupted, recessing into his shell inside of Glavilidom's body.
Glavilidom didn't fare so well, however.
The flames ravaged his form, biting away at his bones, scorch marks encapsulating his entire form. If he were to be at his full strength, he would have been able to resist the fire, with some degree of injury. However, that was not the case. He was nigh destroyed, a shell of his self. Glavilidom only had a few seconds to react to this, elsewise he would risk complete death altogether. The spell, even if it were designed to not deal the killing blow, would leave it's victims close to death, which would ultimately cause death later. Glavilidom was shocked back into his normal self as the spell hit him, ridding himself of self-doubt, gaining back his ability to think with an unclouded mind.
He knew exactly what to do to preserve his life.
He placed his clawed talon upon his skull, reaching around with the five fingers. An incantation that would be alien to most, due to the general lack of usage. It was to instill a comatose state <Begin charge Turn 0/1>. In this form, he would be able to resist death, to an extent. It was something to only be used in the most desperate of situations, to resist death from something such as fast-acting poison, or if bleeding out. Perfect for the scene at hand.
This was a magic-based coma, which therefore means it is different to a normal coma. It is designed with the express purpose in mind to accelerate healing, doing so tenfold. Therefore he might be able to survive the situation he is in.
This of course, would trap Attla. And Attla could not stop the spell in time. He was trapped within the earthly cage of Glavilidom's body, unable to do a thing.
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