So, like... pseudo-Japan town? Or pseudo-America town? It changes so much, from the school system to transportation to grocery shopping.
EmmaZ
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A Parafox
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- EmmaZ 2 yrs ago
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Bio
Once upon a long time ago in a land far from Nantucket, the girl who lived spoke the words. And there was much rejoicing.
A special prize to someone who can name all six references.
Firstly, I like reading. Secondly, I like writing. And thirdly, I like board games.
There's a whole host of other pleasures beneath these, like the feeling of warm sheets on freshly-smooth legs, a well-made chicken alfredo over penne, coddling my adorable little nieces, and telling an attractive man or woman just how stunning he or she looks. But the triumvirate of entertainment remains unshaken through the decade. Some favorite picks are: anything written by Terry Pratchett (The Wee Free Men would be a good starting point); Beneath the Dragoneye Moons from Selkie Myth; Salvos by MelasD; the Stormlight Archives from Brandon Sanderson; Terraforming Mars (now available on Steam); Dungeon Lords; and a classic bout of Canadian Fruit Basket.
I dislike excessive negativity, so for this section, (as they say) that's all she wrote.
I'm hoping to have fun. That's why I'm here. I write by myself already. Now I want to share what I write with a partner, and read what they contribute, and throw compliments back and forth for witty turnings of phrases and keen insight into character motivations. Roleplay is a format I'm familiar with for doing this; let it be known, though, that I'd be just as happy to do a collaborative writing project. Less 'you play him, I play her' and more 'we write them.'
My love language is words of affirmation and my Myers-Briggs returns either an INTP or an ENFJ depending on the month.
A special prize to someone who can name all six references.
Firstly, I like reading. Secondly, I like writing. And thirdly, I like board games.
There's a whole host of other pleasures beneath these, like the feeling of warm sheets on freshly-smooth legs, a well-made chicken alfredo over penne, coddling my adorable little nieces, and telling an attractive man or woman just how stunning he or she looks. But the triumvirate of entertainment remains unshaken through the decade. Some favorite picks are: anything written by Terry Pratchett (The Wee Free Men would be a good starting point); Beneath the Dragoneye Moons from Selkie Myth; Salvos by MelasD; the Stormlight Archives from Brandon Sanderson; Terraforming Mars (now available on Steam); Dungeon Lords; and a classic bout of Canadian Fruit Basket.
I dislike excessive negativity, so for this section, (as they say) that's all she wrote.
I'm hoping to have fun. That's why I'm here. I write by myself already. Now I want to share what I write with a partner, and read what they contribute, and throw compliments back and forth for witty turnings of phrases and keen insight into character motivations. Roleplay is a format I'm familiar with for doing this; let it be known, though, that I'd be just as happy to do a collaborative writing project. Less 'you play him, I play her' and more 'we write them.'
My love language is words of affirmation and my Myers-Briggs returns either an INTP or an ENFJ depending on the month.
Most Recent Posts
@Restalaan Part of Gunthar's duties is fracturing walls, is it?
...
I hearby give him the nickname "Big Fracking Gun" around camp. Any objections?
...
I hearby give him the nickname "Big Fracking Gun" around camp. Any objections?
Palen Mine
@Saiyan@BleakBlueJay@Sanity43217@Restalaan
In the southwestern corner of the Empire of Eden stands the town of Palen. It sits on the only road connecting humanity to the wasteland that was once the home of demons. The people there live humble lives, raising livestock and crops, gathering for sermons twice a week, and teaching their children their craft. It’s a peaceful town, all thanks to the Heroes for ending the threat of demonic invasion those decades ago.
The town’s main export, at least according to the tax collector’s report, is iron. It isn’t produced in the town, or even worked there. No, it just happens that a rich vein of ore was found in the nearby mountains and Palen, as the nearest township, laid claim to the space. And rather than make its upright citizens toil in the underground, Palen requested a portion of the enslaved criminals be made to dig the mine.
These criminals were, of course, those same demons from the other side of the mountain, enslaved after the war. And their children, and their childrens’ children.
“That’s what you kids are: free labor! Well, not exactly free; the Emperor receives a portion of the ore at no cost as compensation. But you aren’t getting paid for it! I’m not getting paid for it!” the old kobold grumbled. The small children gathered around him giggled. One of them dared to raise a paw.
“You don’t dig up any of the iron anyway, mister Draconhouser!”
“Pah! Taking care of you lot is three times more work than swinging a little pickaxe around all day! And don’t go callin’ me a mister; I don’t need no human title. I’m Draconhouser the thirteenth, thirteenth-in-line for assistant to the regent of the Brazen Burrow!”
That made all the kids break out in fits of laughter. The Brazen Burrow was one of his best stories–a secret home the Demon Lord would visit just a few times a year. The kobold insisted he was near the top of the line for inheriting an honorable position of service. Even still too young to be put to work digging, these kids all knew how to count to thirteen; there were a whole fifteen of them being looked after. Thirteenth in line was practically last place.
An older demon, a young lady just blooming into adulthood, smiled as she heard the laughter. It was only a few years ago she’d been among those kids, though it felt half a lifetime. Now she was a miner. Her pink skin was perpetually caked with dust and her white hair was smothered until it looked light brown. The part of her she kept cleanest were the horns atop her head, the dirt never finding purchase.
Dressed in her working outfit for the day–a pair of half-pants that let her hooves swing freely and a big, baggy shirt that had been sized for a gnoll originally and hung clear down to her thighs–she stopped to greet the old caretaker.
“Draconhouser the thirteenth! What are you teaching the young ones? They pay us in food!”
“Pah!” he snorted again. “Talia sin Meritia, food isn’t pay. Pay is money! Gold! Something you can take and have, or spend to get something else you want to have!”
“Hmm… But I think I’d rather have the food. What would I do with gold?”
“What would you-!? Pah! PAH! You would polish it so it shone and shape it into statues and use it to frame portraits! Why, when I was a boy working in the scullery at the Brazen Burrow-!”
A loud shout for roll call interrupted the kobold before he could once more enthrall her with tales of the grandeur of his childhood workplace. Talia frowned, but quickly said her farewells to him and the kids, then hurried out to the square.
All the workers were gathering–the miners in the center, the carters to the right, the packagers on the left. At the front of their assembly stood Overseer Timms, Headman Adams’s right hand man. Timms was a stern fellow, but a reasonable master. So long as the workers met quota, he didn’t care what they were doing with their spare time. He’d even appointed a captain for each group from among the workers themselves. Head of the miners was Virgil Stonespeak, a short, green-skinned demon with wiry limbs that could heave a rock half as big as he was. If all goblins were like him, Talia mused, those human adventure stories would all end in the first chapter.
Virgil ran a quick sweep of his people before turning back to Overseer Timms. “All present for mining duty!” he reported with a lazy salute. The other leaders likewise reported all heads accounted for.
“Good. No news today!” the overseer shouted over the crowd. “Daily quota is still one cart per head! One hundred eighty-two total. Dismissed.”
As Timms walked off, the captains began hustling their people into the tunnels. A few of the carters rushed ahead, anxious to get to the bottom and start breaking the next wall before the miners came close. Packagers turned off toward the warehouse, making ready the week’s offering for pickup next Moonday.
Talia moved along with the flow of traffic, her head darting left and right as she sought out a friendly face. Not an easy task when everyone around her was six feet tall. Even if her horns stood half a foot higher than them, that didn’t help her eye-level from being five nine.
'If Gnash would stand up straight, I'd never miss her,' she silently mused, a light smile on her lips.
its got a bunch of hills and old dried up riverbeds. its about twenty minutes from the beach and there are some nice mountains nearby for camping if youre the kind of freak who likes to sleep on rocks
So it's California. *nods sagely*
Pardon me, not trying to get anyone's hopes up, just reading right now. Great writing, by the way. Just stopping by with a quick question: how would you describe this city geographically?
I suppose it could also lead into the different races having different colours blood. Like elves have green blood, humans have red and Demons have black blood. Making identifying shapeshifter demons as easy as drawing blood.
I like this, and therefore I am making this official, with a minor change. Dwarves bleed yellow, elves bleed green, humans bleed red, and demons bleed purple.
@Restalaan Long ago, when the gods gathered together on the face of an empty world, each one had a thought as to what life should look like. Thoroden felt life should be sturdy and lasting, like the mountains. Sylvanas believed life should be graceful and elegant, like the trees. Adonis decided life should be perfect, like himself. And Lilith said, "Naw, dudes. Life should be FUN." And her people are as varied as the goddess's imagination and the limits of biology on this plane.
...or something like that. If it has thumbs and can speak, it's probably allowed.
And I'm re-tagging this as full for right now because all this interest is rapidly turning a small group into a large one. I don't want to go beyond a five man band. Keep working on the character sheet you already started.
...or something like that. If it has thumbs and can speak, it's probably allowed.
And I'm re-tagging this as full for right now because all this interest is rapidly turning a small group into a large one. I don't want to go beyond a five man band. Keep working on the character sheet you already started.
@EmmaZ I know you said half breeds are an impossibility but surely half-elves exist? Not that I want to play one, I am set on playing an ambitious demon. But I want to ask if surely you mean to say no elf has procreated with a human or vice versa.
I'm not saying no elf has tried to procreate with a human, but it never worked. It takes two elves to make an elf, and two humans to make a human; and an elf and a human just have a good time. Er, had. Back when elves were a thing.
Talia sin Meritia
17, Female, Demon (Satir)
Skin: pale lavender, beneath all the smudges.
Eyes: silver and bright.
Hair: white, short, and messy–and usually dirty.
Body: tall and lithe. Corded muscle all up and down the arms, through the core, and down to her hooves. A combination of non-fatty foods and constant hard work keeps her that way.
Family: Mother - Meritia sun Kalinia (deceased). Father - Unknown. Siblings - None.
Occupation: Slave. Iron miner.
Hobbies: Stargazing. Avoiding the overseers. Reading both books Draconhouser keeps hidden in his mattress. One is an adventure story about a demon named Rumpelstiltskin who saves an elven baby and has to care for it; the other is a tour guide all about the city of Pandemonium, the (former) seat of the Demon Lord. Both are glamored to remain pristine, and nobody has wrestled from the old kobold the secret of how he got his hands on them.
Party Role: Utility Caster
Aura:
- Strength: Petty
- Power: Weak
- Control: Weak
- Resilience: Petty
- Overall: Petty+
Important information:
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