Force and Fury

Hey, how's it going?

Welcome aboard new person! Detail-orientation is definitely appreciated in some quarters here, so no need to apologize for it!

Canceled

Canceled.

Canceled

Canceled.

Code Vein (Closed)

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_{Location: The Crows' Nest // Date: February 24, 2057 // Time: 18:30 // Interactions: Erik @FunnyGuy, Dallas @pantothenic, Vincent @Daxam}

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What Lysandra did following her adventure in the ruined city brought new meaning to the common term 'falling asleep'. Her back was lost to agony and all that she could feel of her arms and shoulders was a throbbing ache. It was a struggle just to transfer out of her wheelchair and into bed. She roughly half-managed and fell onto her mattress, too sore and exhausted to even shift positions. Only barbarians go to bed with their shoes on. Lys supposed that she was a barbarian, then.

To say that she woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed would be... something of an exaggeration, but she was considerably better. The myriad aches were duller and, if her arms still felt like spaghetti, at least they were a bit al dente this morning. Besides, she was now powered by science. After hiding from the provgov people by taking a well-timed morning bath, she took her time getting dressed in a cute off the shoulder top and some jean shorts. She was accosted by Erik just outside of the garden but, finally, she got to spend her day with the mistle... and the roughly dozen other projects that she had on the go. This was the first time that she'd gotten to work with a live sample, and most of what she did consisted of first trying to save the plant from its excessive recent trauma. Still, she had a few working if wholly-unsubstantiated theories:

• The blood beads were its fruits and means of spreading its seeds, which were somehow mixed in with the pseudo-blood. The mistle was using the revenants, who were particularly wide-ranging and effective organisms, just like most flowering plants with ingestible fruits used animals.
• It logically followed that the liquid contained in the blood beads was actually a species of sap, evolved or engineered to have qualities remarkably similar to human blood to ensure that the fruits were attractive to revenants.
• This led to a troubling working hypothesis: either the revenants and BOR parasites were much older than previously believed and simply poorly-documented or else classified knowledge or, alternatively, the mistle, revenants, and everything else connected to the collapse that seemed to run afoul of the basic laws of biology had been engineered by someone or some process.
• Finally, she had her suspicions that the mistle must be parasitic in nature. Its structural similarities, at least outwardly, to Monotropa Uniflora - the ghost plant - were striking, and its white colour denoted a lack of the chloroplasts necessary for traditional photosynthetic processes to occur. Just what the plant was parasitic towards remained a mystery, and Lysandra cursed her absence during its discovery. While uprooting the mistle had been an absolute necessity for its survival, not being able to study its environment had meant the loss of vital clues as to how it worked.

Thus, the Commune's lone scientist contented herself with stabilizing it as best she knew: deep, loamy soil poached from Poppy's garden, limited direct sunlight, and some water. That would have to do for now. She spent the rest of the day intermittently picking dirt out from beneath her nails and removing as much of the corrosion from the new radio's wires as she could, replacing them as necessary. She commandeered Dallas to help move things, but he seemed oddly...dumb today, possibly distracted, and she was too busy to be his emotional support animal.

It was five in the afternoon when she rolled out of her little workshop in the storage room, determined to reclaim for her equipment the room that had temporarily been Ionna's. Instead, she found Vincent and strong-armed him into helping her set up the projector screen in the Great Room for movies and karaoke. She trailed him around like an absolute nag as he pushed the speakers into place, making conversation and offering somewhat ineffectual help when needed. She ferried bottles of vodka, whisky, and wine on her lap, shifted chairs around, flopped on the couch for a few minutes, and then plugged ALL THE THINGS in.

At some point, however, she felt the need to eat but no compunction to cook. How bothersome. Poppy had been in the kitchen area earlier, but Lysandra was loath to put herself through another ordeal almost as bad as the Tsar Bomba had been. With a sort of anticipatory schadenfreude, she stole glances at Erik as he walked up and contemplated taking a bite. Do it, she thought evilly. You know you have to now that people are watching. She couldn't suppress her grin. Do it!

The cake was - apparently - good, and Lys was not entirely sure if that was true or if Erik had noticed her shit-eating grin and decided to play an uno reverse card on her. With some degree of trepidation, once he'd gone off to plug in some cables that were out of her reach, she quickly made her way to the cake and cut a slice. No witnesses, she told herself, after looking quickly about the room. With a cup of strong wine ready to wash away the anticipated taste, she took a bite, every muscle in her body tensing up.

Lysandra blinked and... savoured the flavour. She glanced around guiltily. When even Poppy's cooking was good, it could only be an sign that this was going to be a night to remember.

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'Allo

Is it Triune Goddess’s symbolism on your avatar? I like more moody and grounded fantasy for sure, but humor and wonder and ability to reshuffle lots of things in the deck, so to speak, keep fantasy genre my favorite, too. Hello and welcome

@VerminS

This, TBH. I try to make those bedrock components of anything that I write. They're baked into the current RPG that I'm running. A sense of wonder is... pretty much the point of fantasy, IMO. Anyways, good to meet you both. Hope to catch you around the forum!

The Hourglass Order

Awesome character, @pantothenic, and I'm seriously digging the religious angle, which hasn't really been focused on as much as I'd have hoped so far, and his use of the Tethering. He'd have unusually fine control and very long drawing and casting range. His progression of the disease is also considerably on the low end of where most people would be by sixteen, as he's still ambulant, so perhaps some sort of remark about how some people maybe even believe that his fervent faith is pushing back against the disease, delaying it?

I also imagine, given his personality, that he might want to explore binding at some point, genuinely for the sake of healing as opposed to most others' ulterior motives. In any case, he's great and I look forward to having him in the RPG. Pending whatever little tweaks you see fit to make based on this advice, feel free to pop him into the characters tab and do an introductory post. We can discuss a way to slip him into the current arc if you like, either with the groups or staying back with Hugo, Jocasta, and a few others.

'Allo

Welcome aboard! Nothing quite like fantasy. Also, you underestimate just how old-as-dirt many of us are on here. :P

The Hourglass Order

@VolcanicLaval Hey, happy to hear about your interest. We've just kicked off a three or so posting cycle mini-arc. If you can jump in quickly, you can still get in for the first cycle. Otherwise, you can take your time and join once the mini-arc is over. Regardless, unless we're at 12 people (currently at 10), the RP is always accepting! I'd recommend joining our discord to keep up to date and get help from the community in making a character. We're especially looking for anyone to play a Hexaic character, Torragonese, Belzaggic, or yasoi right now. Regardless, feel free to hop into the chat!

The Hourglass Order

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Bianche, Verdi 35, Dami-Zept 54, 1:45 HI

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Penny was dubious about the whole endeavour. She had been dubious when she had watched a raven smack into her window. She had been dubious during every one-legged step she'd taken up the Forked Tower. When she and Carmille had crouched within a drafty stairwell measuring stone blocks with a fork, she had also been dubious. The dubiousness had remained as Hugo Hunghorasz had explained what it was that he wanted of her. It had intensified when she had been swapped teams at the last moment when Karim had backed out. Truth be told, she could not blame him. When she had been handed her hand-chosen... outfit by some Enthish mercenary named Desmond, she had finally reached peak dubiousness. Or so she had thought. A well-placed bookshelf and a bit of an Arcane glamour had allowed her to change outfits quickly and with her dignity intact. Penelope de Perrence had not the slightest idea how to use throwing knives and, when she was walking, only ever had one hand free in any case. The belt was cute, at least. So was the boot, and at least her bosom was... held in with more than straps and faint prayer. It was the pants, though. They were tailored so as to fit her perfectly - even accounting for her missing leg. Yet... they were a man's garment. No respectable woman wore... pants. How strangely exposed she felt. How the snug fabric chafed at her skin. How the shape of her stump was laid bare for all to see. She did not like them: not at all.

"Ahh, good to meet you, you must be my new crew member. I'm Captain Desmond Cutter-Gretz Von Sausex-Eisenac, Captain of the Golden Sun. What's your name and what do you bring to the ship?"

Penny nearly peed herself out of mirth. Surely, he could not be serious! Quickly biting back her laughter, she flashed her winningest smile. "Ahoy, matey. Pegleg Penny be's mi'name. I be a pirate, and pirate I be: born t'sail the seven seas. Yeh best be callin' on me fer yer needs in the galley."

They ended up on a dock and their self-appointed captain traipsed into the lead and began assigning people to go gather intelligence in what appeared to be a maddening mix of arbitrary and considered motive. When he assigned her and Wvysen to the Doge's Breeches, it was indicative of how daft she thought he was by now that she questioned his sanity as opposed to his intentions. Had he been most others, she'd have genuinely wondered if he was trying to do away with her. Sending two Perrenchwomen to infiltrate a staunchly Revidian faction in a time of near-war...truly? Next, she imagined he'd have her try to win a footrace. Perhaps he'd place Onarr in charge of procuring items from high shelving or get that giantess Trypano to squeeze into some tiny space. Penny glanced at Wvysen dubiously and then at Desmond. She cleared her throat. "Ah oui. Nous ferons de notre mieux en tant que Revidiennes et non en tant que Perençaises."*¹ She smiled with exaggerated sweetness and resisted the temptation to adjust her stupid pants for at least the fourth time tonight. "Je ne prévois aucun problème: aucun!"*² She twisted to regard Wvysen and took the other girl, unbidden by the hands. "Viens viens, Wvysen, allons-y!"*³

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Translations

*¹ Ah yes, we will do our best as Revidians and not as Perrench.
*² I foresee no problems with this: none!
*³ Come come, Wvysen, let's go!

The Hourglass Order

C H A P T E R 1 1 : I N T O T H E R I F T

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Some may have considered it the strangest flock to have ever taken flight above the grounds of Ersand'Enise, but such was the school's history and oddness that there had, in fact, been stranger in the distant past. Yet, where great flocks of crows, magpies, and ravens had flown mere hours ago, now items of an entirely different nature swirled through the sky.

Books, maps, clothing, coin, and weapons, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to them. Locks jiggled and popped open, doors creaked, shutters fluttered, and the strange procession continued. These items, a keen eye may have noticed, all made their way to the same destination: a single window rather high up in the Forked Tower. They found their way into the hands of a pretty young blonde woman who was seated in a wheeled-chair just inside. These, she dispensed to those around her with smiles and well-wishes. The stream became a trickle. Her accomplices gradually disappeared through a door that was most certainly not within the official floorplan of the tower. She was left alone. She let out a long sigh and glanced up and down the stairs. Then, she turned and glanced with annoyance at the door that should not have existed, schooled her features, and wheeled through.

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Inside (but not truly inside, for it was daylight there and quite obviously an entirely different place) preparations were finished. At the flick of a wrist, people had gotten either what they had desired or what they had deserved. In most cases, those were one and the same. In a handful, they were not. They listened to the address of Hugo Hunghorasz with varying degrees of rapt or feigned interest. Some had so little regard for the great mage or else so much excitement for their upcoming endeavour that they could not even feign engagement. "I would wish you luck," he concluded, "but you must remember that there is no such thing and, even if there were, I would expect you to succeed without it."

With that there was a surge of magical energies so intense and alien that a handful of students visibly winced. Temporal magic... felt different: warm, easy, and comforting, like a bonfire on an Dorrad's night, but also as if chaos and void were waiting just outside of its glow. Three portals opened and three sets of students were dispersed through them. At the last moment, one - Karim Nazeri - got cold feet and was replaced by another: Penny Pellegrin, who was all-too well known to most of her peers.

The youths glanced at each other with varying degrees of nervousness and anticipation. Then, they stepped through.

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L O R E N T I N E Q U E E N

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A portal opened and six youths stepped through. They found themselves on a wooden deck near the very top of the Lorentine Queen. The rumble of the great riverboat's engines could be subtly felt even this high up. They were of a peculiar type - unknown anywhere else in the world - that used compressed steam, heated by arcane mages, to power them. The air was warm and muggy, and two towering black iron smokestacks poured great gouts of smoke into it, obscuring parts of the starscape above. The world slowly moved as the ship plied its way up the calm, muddy waters of the river for which it was named. Lanterns and bonfires flickered ashore, illuminating dwellings, businesses, and towering willow trees. Further on were the spratz farms, those notorious places. Other smaller ships - many of them floating rooming houses - hunkered in inlets, oxbows, and creeks by the shore, their lights mostly out at this hour.

Yet, all was clearly not peaceful here. As the Queen headed a bit further up, towards the shallow inland sea of The Gods' Eye, gunfire could be heard. Along one distant part of the shore, torches en masse lit up the night. Down below, were sounds of raucous debauchery, mostly coming from near the stern of the ship. Somebody was hammering away with great skill at a piano - another recent invention of Revidian manufacture - and dozens of card, dice, and darts games were underway. The ladies of the night were out in full force as well, pulling eager and inebriated men into their rooms just upstairs. Periodically, a fight would break out, swords or guns would be drawn, and matters would resolve themselves one way or the other right then and there.

On towards the bow, past the area amidships taken up mostly by the engines and massive paddlewheels and traversible only by means of a passage about three men wide, a different sort of violence was simmering and ready to explode. "Even now," a man shouted, "ashore, they are breaking their chains of servitude. Do not you see their torches in the night? Their tools of farming raised as weapons in defense of their rights? And 'rights' I say for that is what they are! Answer me: where is it in the Menan that one man - or woman - should be subject to another? Where does it say that his freedom to act on his own desires and to profit from his labour should be curtailed so that some other who may - or may not - have had an ancestor who'd done a 'noble' deed in the past may benefit?" Voices rose in angry agreement and he continued. "And then there are ships like this one, to serve your needs, because a mere plant is considered more valuable than your right to own a house and raise a family. They ply up and down this Godsforsaken river, sucking the money from your pockets so that you will never have the resources to challenge those who have named themselves your betters! Rheinsburg! Benrath! Rednitz!" The last one elicited a particularly strong response and he paused for dramatic effect, the ambient noise of water churning, voices shouting, and distant music playing taking over for a moment. "Already, they claim the Gift for themselves, just like they claim the spratz, and jealously guard both. Truly, this is why we bend our backs and obey, why we allow our nature to be suppressed in the service of a 'survival' provided from their lacy-cuffed hands!" The crowd was rather worked up now. "There is a way, my friends. You know me for who I am. I have shared your tables. I have worked in your fields. I have slept in those rat-infested barges they force upon you as homes. I tell you that those great gifts they call 'aberrations' are not to be feared so long as one makes use of them in moderation. I tell you that I can now do the things that a nobleman does because of them. No longer does he hold the threat of inescapabale violence above my head. Mine is now the power to say 'no' to him where, before, I could not. I come, this night, to share with you the Gift!" Close by to where he was speaking out on the forward deck, there appeared a spot of the purest blackness, darkly scintillating. He was poised to invite people up to make contact with it.

Meanwhile, however, there was one further act of note taking place aboard the Lorentine Queen, pride of House Rednitz's rivergoing fleet. The six youths who'd just arrived had been apprised of the location, in the ship's hold, just aft of the engine room, of a holy artifact of priceless value: the Lyre of Ipte-Zept. At that very moment, as the gathering of rough-hewn fieldhands threatened to turn into a shipboard riot, the speaker's accomplices were headed aft to take advantage of the impending chaos. One could only speculate at what they hoped to achieve but, contrary to its grassroots impression, this was clearly a well-planned and tightly executed operation with a clear goal in mind. All that left to be seen was where the six youths who had just arrived would fit into it: allies, enemies, or something else entirely?

The Gamblers

Carmillia Carbonneau, Manfred Hohenfelter, Dorothea Hohnstein, Seung Eun-Ji, Leon Solaire, and Zarra Travendour

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B L A C K F L A G

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A portal opened onto Isla d'Amato and a motley assortment of eight youths stepped through. There were three exceptionally tall women, a fourth - merely tall - who leaned on a single crutch, and a fifth who seemed greatly fond of the colour red. The three young men who followed them through consisted of a pair who had the distinct look of mercenaries and a third who was... exceptionally short. They found themselves on a near empty dock at the very edge of a ramshackle settlement. Waves lapped gently at its posts and crickets chirped in the tall grass and subtropical undergrowth. There were birds in the sparse growth of palm trees which swayed quietly in a light breeze.

The eight young people were dressed in clothes that might mark them out as pirates and, looking upon the nearby settlement, it became evident why. Lamplight burned into the warm, humid night, and the sounds of gambling, brawling, and merrymaking wafted out across the docks. Ships groaned softly and sails stood sentry, bound and furled under the light of four moons. This, then, was the Isla d'Amato: notorious place that it was and home to many of the most storied pirate crews of the Ensollian Sea.

It appeared that, near to where the infiltrators had landed, along with a wagon and some chests of what were either plunder or supplies, a dirt road began, winding into the heart of town. Perhaps those perceptive enough would note the names of a handful of establishments close by:

1) A large stone and wood building of some three floors, with wraparound balconies and an inner courtyard. It flew the Pennant of Revidia and was named 'The Doge's Breeches'. It appeared to be quite full but perhaps not as raucous as some of the others.

2) A tall wooden structure in the heart of town, with elegant carved balustrades and balconies and a red lantern burning in one window. It was called 'La Fleur Rouge'. Sounds of drinking and laughter emanated from its direction and a great many provocatively dressed women could be seen in the area.

3) A smaller, well-maintained stone building towards the near edge of town, close to the ships, called 'The Main', which flew a Dorvalish flag. There appeared to be a handful of crews making their way back and forth between it and a couple of ships.

4) A great rambling compound perched on higher ground towards the far edge of the townsite. Its construction was markedly different from that of the other three buildings and a great many individuals seemed to be coming and going from it in various states of inebriation. Its name - in an unfamiliar script - was translated by Ismette as "The Mermaid's Knees".

Further afield, there may well have been other places of interest, and the picaroons, in particular, were known to inhabit areas some ways from the townsite, but these four were the significant ones closest to the ersatz pirates. The question now became, "where to begin?" Indeed, a plan for tackling their goal had been the subject of not a little discussion among the group. Would they remain united or was it time to divide and conquer?

Infiltrators Ahoy!

Desmond Catulus, Benedetto Corvi, Ismet'ych'lahin'dichora, Wyvsen Myranne, Penny Pellegrin, Ingrid Penderson, Trypano Somia, Onarr Yidlob

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