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Force and Fury Member

Actually kind of mellow

STATUS: Shilling a good medieval fantasy: roleplayerguild.com/topics/… 2 yrs ago
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Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago
Current Shilling a good medieval fantasy: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
Don't mind me. Just shilling a thread: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
So worried right now. My brother just got admitted to the hospital after swallowing six toy horses. Doctors say he's in stable condtion.
8 likes
3 yrs ago
Nice to meet you, Bored. I'm interested!
7 likes
3 yrs ago
Ugh. Someone literally stole the wheels off of my car. Gonna have to work tirelessly for justice.
4 likes

Bio

Oh gee! An age and a gender and interests and things. Yeah, I have those. Ain't no way I'm about to trigger an existential crisis by typing them all out, though. You can find out what a nerd I am on discord, okay?

Stay awesome, people.

Most Recent Posts

In The Hourglass Order → 6 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


with Roslyn Wicke @Fallenreaper
N O P L A C E F O R A P R I N C E S S


T H E B A D G U Y S


M E T H O D A C T I N G


F R E N E M Y


F I G H T I N G S H A P E


U L T E R I O R M O T I V E S
In The Hourglass Order → 6 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


O N E : T H E P L A N

There was altogether too much talk. If the group's earlier information gathering had borne fruit, then it was a bounty they now struggled to solidify into an actual plan. There had been sightings of Jaxan, up until just before his disappearance, the last of these in the company of a rather posh-looking yasoi woman with one leg. Could it have been Tyrel'yrash? Could he have been taken by the Tarlonese!? Yet, there was one name that kept coming up again and again as they went to gather information: the Cola Brothers. Hence, it was finally decided to cut to the chase. The two leads most likely to bear immediate fruit were the two simplest ones: going in with the ransom and ambushing the kidnappers, and having Abdel's skuggvars follow the scent trail of the severed finger back to the kidnappers' base.

Ashon took point on the first, disguising himself and Seviin as a couple who might pass as Jaxan's wealthy middle-aged parents. Xiuyang travelled with them openly as a security detail, with Lunara and Dory incognito, following at a discrete distance. If their fine clothing didn't provoke an attempt at robbery from Belleville's criminal elements - most likely the Colas - then they would secure Jaxan and ambush his kidnappers at the exchange.

In theory, the second group would meet up with the first, with Qadira and Dayanara following the scent trail from the severed finger. If it was, indeed, Jaxan's, then they would end up at the same place, Abdel using his tethered range to keep track on the others and ensure a timely arrival. He was accompanied by Johann, Niallus, and Oksana, with absolutely zero consideration given to stealth. It would've been futile, after all, with a pair of skuggvars about.

T W O : T H E S C E N T

The animals were eager to go, and Abdel was hard-pressed to keep them under control. Johann, Oksana, and Niallus provided an escort and, ironically, the Bellvillians appeared warier of them than they did the beasts. It was just as well, for the skuggvars proved eager to investigate a myriad of scents and veer off-course. They stopped by a buudvuud restaurant, they went down to the water to drink, they poked around an empty warehouse and then, finally, they seemed to gain some direction.

Johann found himself hard-pressed to keep up. The skuggvars' tails whipped back and forth, their heads lowered to the ground, and they were suddenly fast. Locals scrambled to get out of their way, perhaps not terrified, but at least somewhat unnerved. A steady diet of treats kept Dayanara and Qadira motivated and, before long, they led their master and his escorts to destination... of sorts. It was all so very easy except that this was not at all what any of them had expected.

A row of townhouses stood before them, lawns neatly manicured, bushes trimmed, and smoke trickling from brick chimneys. The skuggvars circled in on one, in particular, somewhat shabbier than the others, but not remarkably so. Abdel reached out with his energetic senses and sensed four people inside: likely yasoi, of varying ages, including a child. This appeared to be... a family dwelling, nothing more and nothing less, and here he stood with two enormous and intimidating beasts at its doorstep. Dayanara began gurgling and whining, straining gently upon her leash. Qadira joined in, sniffing aggressively in the identified house's direction. Whatever there was to be found, it was here without a doubt.

T H R E E : T H E A M B U S H

Meanwhile, while Seviin had been somewhat incessant in her misgivings about her and Ashon's ability to pass themselves off without strong illusory magics, these seemed to have proven unfounded as the second group made its way through Belleville. Certainly, some of the locals - human and yasoi alike - glanced their way, but there wasn't any real sense of danger or threat. Children darted and dodged through the milling crowds, stealing glances at the interlopers and dashing off. A dozen languages wafted through the air, along with the familiar scents of cooking, manure, and sawdust. The dorrad sun beat down and the rasping buzz of cicadas could be heard from every spot where there might be tall grass or trees. It might've even been idyllic, in truth, were it not for the very real knowledge that they could be heading into an ambush: either one of their own design or else sprung on them by the unsavoury elements of a place that had been known as 'Mudville' until a scant few months before.

They had their destination. They managed to take a few wrong turns but, eventually, Seviin had them pointed in the right direction. They were walking along, discussing what would come next in hushed tones when all at once, it happened. To be fair, Ashon, his latent timewalker abilities making themselves known, had sensed it moments before. Xiuyang had spotted what appeared to be figures shadowing them. In short, the trio was ready when four figures came barrelling out of an alleyway to hit Seviin with a kinetic slam and gaze of sloth. The priestess was blown backwards but remained on her feet, and Ashon moved to counterattack. Xiuyang took action as well, denying an arcane lance that might've sliced her in two had it landed. There was only one problem: the small coin chest with the ransom sprung loose and clattered to the ground, somehow landing intact and not popping open.

People screamed and swirled back. Such attacks were not rare, but nor were they common either and they were dangerous. The third and fourth members of the attacking quartet reached out with kinetic magic to pull the chest in towards them. It was all on the line right now: call in Dory and Lunara, defeat these assailants, and hope that they were the right ones, or leave this fight - four on three - to Ashon, Seviin, and Xiuyang?

In The Hourglass Order → 6 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

The first thing that Kaureerah saw was a cannonball heading straight for her. The eeaiko's eyes widened, her pulse quickened, and she drew aggressively from its kinetic energy, throwing herself to the side in desperation. Then, the cannonball simply stopped, and not by her hand. She let herself fall into the water, tucking in and sliding gracefully beneath the surface.

The same eyes that had widened quickly adjusted to the lessened light. In the near distance, just under a hundred yards away, she could sense a Martello tower and, barely beyond it, an island and an immense slab of... something that had to be the wreck. She wasn't sure who was fighting, but the safest place to be was away from the fight and the wreck was too close to the hot zone. Sighting a larger island to the West, she started to swim, easily outpacing the humans, before pausing and casting about for any in need of help. Maura was managing, but she had a lot to manage. As for the others, she waited, as the pirate ship opened fire and clouds of gunsmoke drifted across the water.

She reached out with her senses and could feel them: dozens of threshers, and there were more out in the rest of the lagoon. An apprehension seized her. Any blood in the water and they'd frenzy. With nobody taking her up on her offer of assistance, Kaureerah reluctantly turned, nerves on fire with fear, and made rapidly for shore, gently punting the laggard of Maura's three crates along with kinetic magic. The water churned with torpedo threshers and she could sense a giant Sandbar moving in the lee of the wreck. Then, she was moving in a different direction and it wasn't her concern.

She came ashore on a sandy beach, plopping down beneath a coconut tree before stopping to take stock of the others. "Ewey!" she shouted, waving the lauboos aggressively onto shore. "Te wauter's fooll auf treshers!" She reached out again and, for a second, thought she had sensed something more, but it was just her paranoia. Clearly, it had to be. In the background loomed the immense bulk of the derelict, impressive even from this range. The ships began to fire a second volley, and there was a small explosion on the deck of the big Virangish one. She began a headcount. Maura, Marz, Mahal, Tku... That was it. She vaguely remembered Zast, Fiske, and Raffie breaking off in different directions, and it occurred to her that the latter was Virangish, along with Ren. Had the other two gone for the pirate ship or the tiny islet with the wreck? From what she knew of them, they might be the type to do either.

Having retreated further up onto shore, Kaureerah seated herself on a large rock. "Well, she added shakily, "Thees ees te sefest wee'll get, baut Eye doon't theenk wee're eloone."
In The Hourglass Order → 6 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
~ 🙡 𝄋 🙣 ∽

"Sing me a song, you're a singer. Do me a wrong, you're a bringer of evil..." Who could say what the angel's name was, and his song could scarcely be heard above the rattle of the chains. It carried all of the way up the great vaulted marble halls. "While the thrashing does add something of an aesthetic, mister Kavanaugh, I'll have you know that it shall work against you come judgement time." They had taken Tommy's voice and bound him in chains. The only resistance he could offer was to thrash, and it came naturally to him as it might a fish hauled up into the unfamiliar environment of a boat from its watery home. After a moment, the cherub began dragging him along again. At least the accursed singing had stopped. He had opted for humming instead.


"Good morning, your honour. The tall, beautiful angel of Ipté bowed deeply. Was it morning here? Who could say where the light came from... "This court will plainly show that the accused who now stands before you is guilty of the following fifty-seven crimes:" She cleared her throat and each one of Tommy's crimes against love, kinship, and beauty flashed before the court in every agonizing detail. "And yet, in his latter days, he learned to love. He held some care for his friends." A much shorter show played itself out before the five hooded figures who perched atop the dais in the distance. Still, he was muted. Still, he could not speak. There was an extended pause where only his actions could speak for him, and they were sorely wanting.

The figure on the left stood, and she was Edyta. She gazed upon him with hard eyes and, still, he could not speak. "We find the accused guilty on thirty-nine counts minus eight. We sentence him to a hell without love or beauty. May Shune have mercy on his soul." There was no an ounce of mercy to it.


"You were closer than we thought you'd be," the cherub allowed, dragging Tommy to the next of the Hourglass Courts. "Thirty one out of fifty-seven counts. Only three away from heaven." He grunted, the chains rattling again. Had the thrashing stopped? That was entirely up to the condemned. "Shune next. You're in with a shot, you know."


"Good morning, your honour." The lanky angel of Shune cleared his throat. "This court will plainly show that the accused who now stands before you is guilty of the following thirty-four crimes." Tommy's lies, moments of idiocy, and refusals to learn displayed themselves in no less depth and detail than his crimes against Ipté earlier. "However," the angel allowed, "He has shown some curiosity. He has asked questions and explored for information. He has learned how to learn." Some of his better moments played themselves out within the grand hall and the cowled figure at the right end of the five revealed himself to be Johann. He frowned and pondered before speaking. "We find the accused guilty on twenty-six counts minus ten. We grant him entrance to the heaven of learning."


"Told you you were in with a chance, boy. Didn't I?" Perhaps Tommy was no longer being dragged. "You need three out of the five, you know. Everything here works on simple majority." He jangled the chains. "Well, come on. We haven't got all day."


The second figure on the left stepped forward. It was still fresh in Tommy's head - all of it: the other kids shanked in a back alley, the fingers and jaws broken, the killing. Lady Avis' face had not left his mind's eye and there she was, the hooded figure. She was as impassive as any of the others and, yet, not so. "We declare the accused guilty of forty crimes against life, minus nothing." She regarded him unflinchingly. "We sentence him to burn for all eternity in hellfyre and death." Imperious, she concluded. "May Eshiran have mercy on his soul."


"I knew you were rough," the cherub remarked, "but I didn't think you were such a rotten one." He shook his head and, still, Tommy could not speak. Did he squirm a bit now? Did he thrash? "One more, and it's hell for you," the angel said evenly. "Both and there's no escaping." Eshiran was not long in coming.


It all came down to Eshiran. "Good afternoon, your honour." The tall, muscled pentangel bowed rigidly. "This day, we shall weigh the actions of the accused and determine if he is worthy or if he is a miserable coward and senseless killer." He twisted to regard the youth evaluatively before returning his gaze to the five hooded figures. "He stands accused of twelve counts of cowardice and senseless slaughter." They played themselves out as if they were true life, but there was nothing Tommy could say in his defense. "But he has been brave, as well, repeatedly. Often, he has shed blood for reasons that made sense in his situation." Tommy had to hope that those were enough. From the shadowed cowl emerged Desmond and he, too, was dispassionate. "We find him worthy of a warrior's heaven." He nodded, and there was - finally - a hint of a smile.


"All down to Dami, isn't it, kid?" The cherub interrupted his humming and, after a few moments, began singing again. "The devil is never a maker. The less that you give, you're a taker..." Tommy could hear every echo of his voice, every footstep, and every rattle of the chains against the towering marble pillars, those impassive floors and pillars, that ceiling so far above his reach. He had seen not a single other soul his entire time here.

♫

There was no angel of Dami to stand beside Tommy and present his greatest failures and accomplishments. Even the cherub had backed off after prostrating himself, disappearing... the youth wasn't quite sure where. Instead, the central of the five shadowy figures rose. He rose and... continued to do so, spilling over the edge like a thin, oily waterfall of blackness, rising up towards the ceiling until he towered over everything else in the room. "You have been measured," declared a great, booming voice. "Your choices. Your justice. You judgement." He seemed to be leaning forward, over and above Tommy, and still, strangely, his face could not be seen. There was no reenactment this time. "You have been weighed in all measures of your being," he thundered, "and found wanting."

The ceiling began to black and swirl. A fiery glow began to emanate from it. "I consign thee to hell, Thomas Kavanaugh, where thou shalt burn until such time as thou art cleansed of the stench of sin from the disappointing life thou hath led." The hood fell back to reveal Tommy's own face, regarding him with unnerving disdain. His voice was returned to him in that moment, but it made no difference. Dami's judgement was final and absolute. The swirling vortex of the ceiling pulled him in. That was the last that he saw. That was the last thing that happened to him.


They had gotten it wrong! That had to be it! Instead of a burning hell or empty void of madness, Tommy had awoken on a field of soft green grass and dandelions. There was a faint smell of Stresia in the air, and birds chittering among the trees. He might've pinched himself to make sure that it wasn't some accursed hallucination, but he'd felt pain: real pain - just a little flash of it. For how long he was unsure, he simply wandered about, across endless green fields, through copses of trees, and across babbling brooks and streams. The sun warmed his skin. The wind ruffled his hair. If there was one thing missing, it was other people. He had seen not a single soul and, for a moment, there was some apprehension. He had been sentenced to hell, hadn't he? Was this it? The perfection was empty without companionship? Was this Ipté's Hell?

The sun began to dip, growing fat and golden, and it struck Tommy that he was rather thirsty. He would have to eat as well. Hunting was something that he could do. If he hadn't been trained in it like some of those noble kids, it couldn't have been that hard, could it? In the distance, as the sun's golden rays filtered through the tall grass, he caught sight of a creek winding its way through a small valley. Managing a light jog, he made it there in what he assumed was a couple of minutes. Surely it wasn't poisoned or full of parasites. Tommy was no master of chemical magic, but he couldn't sense anything wrong with the water and he was dead anyhow. He crouched on a rock, reached down, and cupped his hands, filling them with water. He lifted it to his lips and drank. Without thinking, he drank again, and some more.

His lips were still dry. His tongue remained sticky and his throat rough. A growing alarm rising inside of him, he took a slow, cautious sip. The water... felt like water, but it was only superficial. Beyond a feeling and a taste, it seemed to do... nothing. It gave him nothing. It was nothing. He sat back on the grass, only then beginning to realize the true nature of this hell.

~ 🙡 𝄋 🙣 ∽

Edyta Laska did not remember closing her eyes. She did not remember anything after biting the apple. She looked around and... well, she certainly wasn't in Ersand'Enise anymore. An idyllic wilderness stretched out before her eyes: hills and mountains, seas of trees and great green valleys. Throughout wound sparkling rivers, while opulent lodges perched on the hillsides. In the distance lay a great coliseum. She craned her neck to get a better look at it, and that was when she realized that she was a direstork.

She let out an alarmed squawk and flapped her wings. This had to be some sort of dream or... No, it wasn't! This was the back door into the heaven of Lord Eshiran. She could still think as if she were a woman and not a beast. This was the eternal hunt! She and... she twisted in her unfamiliar body to regard the honey badger relaxing in some nearby brambles - Desmond!? If she had been reformed as an animal in order to slip into this heaven, then... that had to be him, right? Oddly, she did not feel as awkward in this form as she should have. She hopped back a few steps and found it easy to cover ground. Direstorks were enormous birds, after all. Experimentally, she flapped her wings a couple of times and Honey Badger Desmond twisted to regard her. He snuffled around a bit, scratching at something with his paws, and rose.

Then, just as she was wondering how in Eshiran's green heaven they might communicate, there came a familiar sound echoing across the grassy hills: a gunshot, and then another. This was the hunt, and they were the beasts! Desmond's stubby little ears had perked up and he let out a long hissing growl. If only you'd been reformed here as a gun. Would've been oddly appropriate, Direstork Edyta thought to herself, and useful. she swallowed. What to do? Where to even begin!?

In The Hourglass Order → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

♫ ♫

It was a most unlikely sight: more than a half-dozen students of the school jumping into the water. Anyone who had seen fit to watch them might've been alarmed, for they leapt into Hedda's Lake from a rock on the island and they did not resurface. Fortunately, there were few about the Arboretum at this early hour, when the sun was only just beginning to reach its glowing rays across the landscape of Ersand'Enise. Crate after crate went in after the students: was it junk or something more? None but the eight - or were there nine? - who'd leapt in knew. Whatever they may have contained, the crates, too, disappeared beneath the surface of the glorified pond in the Arboretum.

High Zeno Giancarlo Silvestri, head of the Archaeology Department at the Academy of Thaumaturgy, watched for a moment longer from beneath the small gazebo there. Then he turned, hands clasped behind his back, and walked away.


It was day ten of the standoff and the fingers of night crept across Moatu Suva. They started from Mauna Hekili and, as it cast its great shadow across Taoranga, the townspeople began to pack up for the night ahead. Next came the foothills of the main island, then those of the smaller ones, the tallest trees and buildings, then humbler things. Before those, however, came the the vast shadow that the moku make nui - the great hulk that lay off half-grounded on Mehameha - cast across this place. Before those, however, came the dark, skeletal shapes of the foreign ships' masts that had taken up residence in the lagoon, right beside the giant wreck.

The private contractors of Virang's Royal Asper Salvage Co., the soldiers of the Tarlonese empire, and the levies of the Diamyo of Toishima all clutched their guns, peered through their spyglasses, and paced anxiously. Threateningly close to each lurked the other and, finally, the Pyrates. The infamous Blue Adam of Mycormii unabashedly flew its flag, and there were more, anchored in the outer reaches of the island chain: waiting. The great bounty of threshers, uncaring as to the activities of their terrestrial neighbours, churned up the waters in their month-long mating orgy as the sun set and the winds began to pick up.

And then, unassumingly, it happened. They'd been so used to being 'on edge' that they were not truly on edge anymore. It took them a moment to notice but, when they did, shouts erupted on the decks of all three of the Asper ships. The Blue Adam, with no notice or warning, had unfurled its great black sails and caught the brisk evening wind. It was, that very moment, closing the gap at an alarming rate.

Bells rang and torches were lit. "She's underway!"

"Pyrates! East' Nor'east! Closin' fast!"

The bells were desperate. "All hands! All hands! People rushed up from below decks, groggy, dishevelled, and half-dressed.

Still, the Blue Adam closed. "Reports!" shouted a tall bearded man in an impeccable uniform and a feathered hat, still doing up the top handful of his buttons. "Where are my sails?" he shouted. "Helm!?" He scowled as sailors climbed into the rigging to give answer to his first question. "Gunnery!"

"We'll be underway in moments, Captain, sir!"

Metin Çelik, Captain of the Altın Oğul, finished with his buttons and held out a hand for his spyglass. "Damned knife-ears," he muttered. "What're they playing at?"

He looked over his shoulder, spotting the great hulk in the near distance. The three Asper ships had taken up positions closest to it, cutting off any others from reaching the wreck but, when they'd tried to board, the pirates and locals both had fired warning shots and the Tarlonese had moved in closer, to the edge of gunnery range. Now, the Nikanese had arrived as well. If the Royal Asper Salvage Company could outgun any single other party, they could not outgun them all. He shifted his lookout to the Güçlü Adam. There was movement on deck, but they were not even close to getting underway. "Anything from the Dalgıç and Güçlü?"

"Nothing yet, sir!"

"Flags, Balık! Tell them to get underway! Head her off!" Metin did not like being caught off-guard like this. He liked not knowing what the Blue Adam was up to even less. They couldn't possibly be considering an attack. They might outgun any one of the Virangish ships, but all three would massacre them. "Guns!" he ordered. "All guns! Signal the Dalgıç and Güçlü! We need everything!"


His people moved through the rigging with a grace, speed, and silence that their human counterparts could never have hoped to. It was because of their excellence that the Bish'Audam had caught its rivals cold. Now, the famed Mycormish pyrates, half a world away from their home, surged forward at a breakneck pace, cutting through the dusky waters on their way to the score of - potentially - a lifetime.

Anthal'dyros'tormiiyei, boatswain and son of the captain, perched on the bowsprit, eyes alight in anticipation. Holstered across his chest and at his hip were six pistols and a dagger. At his back lay the two hundred tons of the vessel known to yanii as the 'Blue Adam'. Smoke ribboned away rapidly from the pipe clenched between his teeth and the young pyrate grinned wickedly. This was when he could feel her - the ship: her every dip and rise, the tremble of her timbers, the thump of the ocean waves beneath her hull. His hair billowed in the wind and Ocean spray wet his cheeks. The grin became content and he rose.

Nimbly, the young pyrate raced down the bowsprit, dodging the jib, and sprung onto the deck. Beneath his feet, the deck was rumbling as cannons were loaded and shifted in preparation. The dash'teloi gunports creaked open and, not so far away from where he stood, the anchor was being readied. "Aye, yeh lazy sea rats! Tighten up the t'gallant! She's flappin' about like Enoxii in Amato!"

A chorus of affirmations, laughs, and jeers rained back his way and he strode on towards the quarterdeck, where he could see his father. "Cap'n."

"Junior." They exchanged nods. Meanwhile, the three Aspers were getting underway, the big one - the Altın Oğul - hanging back a bit and arraying its guns against them in broadside while its smaller peers moved to cut off the Audam's approach. "Yeh see that, boy-o? They wanna play chicken with us! Hah! Haha!" He shook his head.

"Others running on clock?"

"Clocked as ol' Roger last I checked."

"Hey Sanette!" Anthal called out to a figure sitting cross-legged and close-eyed near the stern. When there was no reply, he raised his voice. "Your ears crippled too, now?"

The eyes - an eerie periwinkle - flashed open. "I am concentrating, hyco'moila. It isn't easy to speak to people over miles of water and all your Ypti-cursed noise."

"Ah, it's just your social skills!" He bounded over. "Where are the others right now?"

She smiled devilishly. "Why don't you take out daddy's spyglass and look for yourself?"


The Adam was heading straight for the Dalgıç and Güçlü but, even if they somehow breached the Aspers' perimeter, what could they hope to do? They'd be surrounded. All three ships were underway now, but the Adam was hardly more than a couple hundred yards out and closing. Did it mean to ram one of the xebecs!?

Then, it came to him. "Crowsnest!" the captain shouted. "Get me eyes on both ends of Pelolia!" His order was relayed swiftly. "Guns ready!" For this, he used the Gift to amplify his voice.

"They can't truly mean for a pitched battle, sir," murmured Balık. "Pyrates never..."

"Likely not, but if they breach our perimeter, we don't hesitate. Are we clear?"

She swallowed and nodded, pretty young daughter of some Emir that she was. "Crystal, sir."

"Warning shot, Solak!" the captain ordered and, within the next few seconds, it was threading its way mere feet past the Dalgıç and splashing into the water short of the Adam's bow. Then, Aksoy rushed up, breathless. "Lookouts report more pyrates, sir! Nor an' South o' Pelolia!"

"Öjeran-damned cowards!" Captain Çelik hissed. "Balık!"

"Sir!"

"Signal the Dalgıç and Güçlü: part for the Adam and then close. We'll trap her 'tween our flanks and she'll have only her chasers." (see here)

The first officer nodded and rushed off to carry out the order. Flags were raised. Still, the Adam closed and, now, Metin could see individual figures on the decks. All about him, the Altın Oğul was a hive of activity: sails being adjusted, guns being loaded - even the deck carronades - and mages pulling in all the energy they could from their surroundings.

Still the Adam closed. The Güçlü began to draw back.

There was no missing the sheer power of the casters aboard that Mycormishman and they would surely enhance their shot. For a moment, the captain wondered if it was truly worth risking death here, in some colonial backwater, subcontracted out to a crown corporation, for the sake of this wreck. the thought passed quickly, though Even if this was not a navy ship, he was a navy man and had been since his eleventh birthday.

The Adam was mere meters and seconds from impact. Desperately, the Dalgıç started to turn. The sheer balls on these fucking knife-ears! The captain shook his head. Brave, foolish, or something else, they were about to pay for it. "Men, steady!" he bellowed, as the Adam and its crew of shouting, mocking pirates squirted through the gap, plowing straight towards the Altın Oğul.

Immediately, the thiis'elaaz slewed sharply, her bow nearly static and stern swinging hard to port. "On my mark!" He raised an arm, eyes wide in fear, fury, and the sheer desire to make these cocky bastards eat lead. "She's comin' about!" rose the shouts. "How in the six hells!?"

"Öjeran spare us."

"Öjeran spare them!!"

"Vaşdal akbar!"

"Vaşdal akbar!!" It rose as a war cry.
"Fire!!!"

All twenty-eight cannon aboard the Altın Oğul unleashed a withering broadside. The cannonballs hurtled towards the Bish'Audam. It was at this precise moment, in between the two ships, that a rip in space and time opened. It was at this precise moment that eight - or perhaps nine - biros of Ersand'Enise appeared.

R E S O U R C E S





In The Hourglass Order → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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In The Hourglass Order → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Hi all! Please remember to post something for this cycle before the deadline, now that we're moving back a bit more to forum-based. It doesn't have to be long, but this is effectively a check-in for this arc.
In The Hourglass Order → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Ch. 1: Age Old Equation

It was Lepdes the eighteenth, and bells were ringing. Puffy white clouds drifted lazily across the blue sky and signs of the coup that had taken place in Ersand’Enise a mere week and a half earlier were visible only to those who sought them out.

Kaureerah Wenhan, the eeaiko songstress who had contributed her all to the uprising, now sat, cross-legged, upon the battlements, plucking at a cello. The instrument was new to her, but what was life if not an opportunity to try new things? Besides, she understood the fundamentals. The rest could be learned.

Yet, as that young woman sat there, sun on her skin, wind in her hair, and an exciting new instrument at her fingertips, all was not well in paradise. To one side she looked, and there was the city: busy and bustling. Reaching out with both senses and vision, she picked out what she thought was Leon, having an outfit tailored. They’d spent the morning together before going their separate ways and she couldn’t help but think metaphorically.

To the other side lay Bath House, but it was not as it usually was. All along the Godsroad, from the foot of the Queensgate, on past the Animal Farm and Wildside, past the Vermilion Swirl and into the distance, lay hundreds of tents and hovels. Bring me your wretched, your wounded, your starved and your wanting, said Oraff-Zept, and I shall take them in my arms and make them whole. Kaureerah had always thought the Quentic, Darhannic, and Chosen gods a contradiction. In holy books and sermons, they spoke in ways that sounded almost absurdly altruistic. Yet, their actions were all too often self-serving, vindictive, and neglectful.

This, then, underlay the issue of the refugees: both of their similar religions at once decreed that they should be cared for, leaving them with an expectation of charity, but also tacitly encouraged self-serving behaviour from their would-be saviours, guaranteeing that they would receive little. Her gaze roamed across the tents before turning away. It was twice as bad on the other side of the city, even if it was less visible. Belleville had been flooded with refugees, and there they remained, barred from passing the White Walls but for a privileged few who had the wealth or connections. She scowled and plucked a few sour notes, pizzicato.

“Penny for your thoughts?” asked… Penny. Usually, it was Yuliya up here with her but, ever since being outed as daughter of King Rouis, the Perrenchwoman had been increasingly avoidant of the greater scrutiny she found herself under. “Joost daumpeng aun yoor Quenteec releegeon,” Kaureerah replied with a snort, “Een my head.” She tapped her temple with a finger. Penny shook her head and smirked ruefully. “Charity?” she questioned, and Kaureerah nodded. “Eye heve meexed feelengs ebaut eet,” she admitted. “Helpeng peepel when yoo cen end eef yoo feel lyke eet es e good theeng. Eye theenk et’s e paurt auf oos.” She brushed some hair from her eyes. There was a bit of a breeze up here. “Baut mekeeng et en obligation…” She shook her head.

Penny seemed to consider, the wind catching her bronze-coloured hair and swishing it about. Sitting ‘cross-legged’, she pulled her foot in a bit close before fixing the mess. “It’s never been anything but an obligation for people like me,” she admitted, “but…” She shrugged. “I think you can enjoy even things that are obligations. The one doesn’t automatically rule out the other, right?”

Kaureerah considered as they sat, the sun momentarily disappearing behind a bank of clouds. “Yeah,” she allowed. “Meybee.” She nodded slowly, mulling it over. “Sey, Penny.” She turned quite suddenly to regard the other. “Yoo ever theenk ebaut Vaussooreeya?”

The Perrenchwoman furrowed her brow and nodded. “It’s hard not to. I died there, or I should’ve.” She threaded and unthreaded her fingers. “And I can’t help but think -” She paused and gazed out over the city. “That we left that place worse than it was when we arrived.”

Kaureerah plucked idly at a couple of strings and evaluated Penny. She swallowed. “Eye heve seemeelaur feelengs ebaut Retaun.” She stopped for a moment, watching as, down below, two men found themselves in a violent shoving match. “Why doo yoo theenk they sent aus?”

The one-legged girl shrugged, but then she paused to consider. “I think it was a way of having a force they could control on the ground, but one that they could also deny. We’re capable, but we’re young - naive in their minds, and bound to listen to them.”

Kaureerah snorted. “Shoold we heve?”

Penny shook her head. “They were stunningly incompetent, or just rotten otherwise.” Her eyes flicked over towards the Violet Enclave: under new management partially thanks to her martyrdom. Sometimes, Kaureerah thought that she liked Penny: the girl was smart, a good conversationalist, and a decent enough person. Sometimes, however, she couldn’t help but feel wary. Penny had known what she was going in for when she’d followed the Centuries at the soirée. She’d known and she’d done it. She was friends with almost everyone. She always seemed to be there when there was something to be gained in terms of power, and she’d managed to come out of the entire revolutionary ordeal squeaky clean: an innocent victim but not a pathetic one. While it was true that she’d emerged from her Tan-Zeno interview without an offer, Yvain had gotten one instead: a cousin who she cared about and a potential rival to the throne. Oh, how he would rise through the ranks here at the school: valued, respected, and safely apolitical. “I’m glad they’re gone,” she concluded, “at least as long as the new ones are better.”

“Whaut ever heppened too te ege oold equetioon thet ege eequels weesdaum?”

Penny smirked. “They did.” She shook her head. “They happened all over it. But, seriously, there are a lot of dumb old people. Age just gives you more experience. I don’t think it makes you smarter.”

Down below, the fight had been broken up by a trio of other yasoi. The city’s guards had refused to intervene in a matter outside of their walls. Kaureerah couldn’t help but think that it was about setting a precedent. The fight had been a fake or, at least she hadn’t sensed any of the anger biochemical signals that she should’ve. Intervene and you’ve acknowledged that they’re under your jurisdiction. Something about it disgusted her. She wasn’t sure why. How long can you just leave people that desperate, just hoping they’ll go away?

“Ya know,” said Penny, “I think the new admin is gonna act on things.” Kaureerah looked her way, arching an eyebrow quizzically. “I think they’re looking to reset some relationships and precedents: reassert themselves.” She nodded, unfolding her single leg, and stretched, letting out an unfiltered yawn. Her mouth stretched wide and open for a good couple seconds.

“Dregen Penny!” Kaureerah joked, and the other smiled. Another gust caught the eeaiko’s hair and caused it to billow. “Kaureerahbird!” Penny teased back, and they shared a chuckle. “Soo, prauphet, whaut doo yoo theenk thet’s goonneh look lyke?”

Dragon Penny smirked. She just smirked at her. “I think they’re gonna send us back into the field. I’d bet my title on it.”

“Yoo doon’t eeven lyke yoor tytel!”

“Well, that’s the point, birdbrain.” She flicked Kaureerah on the shoulder and the eeaiko shook her head. “Better then ‘feesh’ aull te tyme.”

“Nobody dares make fun of my leg anymore,” Penny sighed. “I kinda miss it and kinda don’t.”

“Shaut aup, creepel.”

“Fuck you.”

They both laughed, as Oraff gave way to Eshiran and ribbons of white smoke rose from the vast camps outside of the city: cooking fires at dinnertime. Kaureerah could see Penny watching them as well. Both young women watched. Soon, however, her mind wandered. It wandered back to what Penny had said: back into the field. Who would be stupid enough to accept after last time? Kaureerah pursed her lips, humming Green Perrence, and Penny punched her on the shoulder. Both grinned and shot sidelong glances at the other. Who, though, would be brave enough to refuse?

Ch. 2A: An Offer you Can Refuse

They were seated in the arboretum, with one of those nice antipasto boards laid out, and a good deal of wine. Motherfucker, Kaureerah couldn’t help but think. You were right. Giancarlo Silvestri sat across from her, answering a question from Maura. Of course, she, Kaureerah, and Penny had gotten together yesterday and discussed the latter’s theory. It was easy for her two friends, who’d ended up in the same apprentice group after the reshuffle. Kaureerah had been placed with Leon, Tku, and two others who already bored her. Regardless, each member of their trio was prepared.


“It’s a situation that requires some care,” the High Zeno was saying. “It’s an unprecedented wreck: easily five hundred feet in length and many thousands of tons. While salvage is a significant portion of the islanders’ income, it’s beached on an outlying atoll and they’ve no de jure right to the wreck.”

“But de facto?” Maura prodded, and their host scowled. “Traditionally, yes, but it’s something of a novel situation,” he explained. “The currents wash a lot of derelicts up in that area, but it’s remote, even for the islanders, and most salvage companies never bother. This find is incredible, though, and unique.” There was a twinkle in his eye, Kaureerah thought: a thrill. “The Royal Asper Salvage Company has filed for salvage rights with the crown of Palapar and been granted them.”

“Isn’t this in Kiluaho, though?” asked Mahal. “How does Palapar have jurisdiction there?”

“They don’t, per se,” Silvestri responded, rubbing tiredly at the bridge of his nose, “but what they do have is a naval protection agreement with most of their Parynesian neighbours, Kiluaho included.”

“That’s just a Virangish tool to have a navy in the area.” She scowled.

The High Zeno shrugged, not disagreeing but not engaging either.

“And they’re exploiting that somehow,” Maura observed, “right?”

He nodded. “There are at least three pirate vessels on scene, including the notorious Black Adam, which I think you may be familiar with.”

It struck Kaureerah, immediately, that this could be a tangled web indeed. She glanced over at Penny and Maura. All three, in fact, exchanged glances.

“The Aspers are well armed and have resources, and the pirates and locals are unlikely to make common cause.” He stabbed at a piece of cheese with a tiny fork. “Caught in the middle of it all - likely to be fought over and lost, portioned, and damaged - is what could be the most valuable maritime find in a century.” His gaze swept over each student in turn. “This isn’t a clandestine mission like they were in the past. We’re done with that.” He bit down on the cheese and swallowed quickly. “You would be official representatives of the school: neutral arbiters listening to all sides and protecting the find, first and foremost. You would receive a full briefing and academic credit as well as being paid a handsome salary for your services.”

“Ersend’Eneese needs too reessert eetself, dausn’t eet?” Kaureerah observed.

Giancarlo Silvestri sent an examining look her way, and then nodded. “We have a vital role to play in the politics of this world, like it or not: a neutral and empowered one, and we cannot remain absent for long. People are looking to see what we’re about after our recent changes. We need to show them. That’s why I’ve personally requested each of you: you’re the best and the brightest this school has to offer. You’re experienced, and you deserve better than you’ve gotten in the past.” He regarded them each in turn. “I neither can nor wish to compel any of you to pursue this offer, but it is my hope that you do. Tomorrow morning, at 2:00 HS, I shall be waiting in the gazebo on Hedda’s Island.”


Ch. 2B: Standoff

It was the dead of night, and moonlight lay upon the reefs like jewelry. This was not a quiet time, however. Hundreds of torpedo threshers remained, in various stages of mating, spawning, or death. In truth, they were the sideshow this year.

All around the waters of Moatu Suva lay ships: great Virangish galleons and tenders, local catamarans and trimarans, Tarlonese thiis’elaaz, and even a Nikanese shuinsen. They were not alone, however. Hovering about the periphery were pirates: at least three ships, though it was hard to tell, for they often kept their distance and flew proxy flags. Not a week earlier had arrived the notorious Blue Adam, scourge of the West Ensollian, and it had proven the harbinger.

Now, it was a standoff, and torches - both magical and mundane - burned into the night. Crews moved about the decks. Spells and guns were kept at the ready and pointed at possible enemies, although who favoured who and which parties represented threats to which others remained unclear.

In the midst of all of them lay the object of their curiosity and desire, the very thing that had caused this entire standoff: an enormous rusting hulk, beached on one of the atolls, its massive slab sides towering above the broken palm trees and smaller ships. Five days ago, it had been claimed by the Royal Asper salvagers, after they had arrived and unceremoniously booted a small group of locals out at gunpoint.

But then, more had arrived, and the pirates with them. Now, the Nikanese and the Tarlonese. As of yet, none of the interested parties had gotten a look at what lay inside, and the Aspers had contented themselves with circling their ships and building a small fort and depot of reef rocks. They had not been seen to enter the wreck since they had started.

Maybe it was because they feared the pirates’ guns. Perhaps they were worried about angering the Tarlonese and Nikanese, both of whom had received permits from their own governments. Perhaps, however, it was something else. Some whispered that there were eeaiko in the water, but this atoll was too remote and their kind had never been seen around here.

Still, the torches and lanterns shone into the night. Focused beams swept the surface of the water. Every once in a while, they caught a glimpse of something moving. Rocks tumbled, occasionally, from the makeshift fortress and its still-setting mortar: too many to be incidental. Sailors gathered on deck, muttering amongst themselves that this place was foul and cursed. Locals warned of the ‘kanaka nahesa wai’ and left brightly coloured offering baskets on their quays and boats each night. Eerie noises, not unlike singing, could be faintly heard among the waves and wind, though there was every likelihood that they were merely manifestations of a growing paranoia. Yet, in the morning, when people woke, the fortress had been set back nearly a day’s worth of work and the offerings were gone.

Still, the immense wreck loomed over all, its metal hull burning with tropical heat, gulls and seabirds circling overhead, sharks and threshers hunkering in its shade or prowling about its battered lower reaches. Still, it held most of its secrets. It beckoned. It promised. It threatened.

Ch. 3A: Victims

“It’s a situation that requires some care,” the hooded man was saying. “They’re important people: merchants from Oiyac and the only ones who still ship to and from human lands.” He shook his head tightly. “They got to jump the queue because they had connections within the school’s admin.”

“Old admin or new?” prodded Penny.

“What business of mine is it?”

She did not voice her suspicions, though she knew that precious little had changed. This man was a zeno - just who, she could not quite determine - and this was another clandestine bit of dirty work for the school.

“But I don’t think their innocent son should suffer because they might have some unwarranted inside connections,” he continued. She could feel the subtle disapproval radiating off of him and allowed that there was a chance this wasn’t just more of the academy’s skullduggery.

“Whatever your experience with the school,” interjected Seviin in that holier-than-thou voice, “Our mysterious friend here has a point: the baseline good is saving a life from some murderous criminals.”

Niallus nodded along, giving away nothing about his intentions or who he was agreeing with. Penny could’ve rolled her eyes but she did not, for this was his custom, after all, and she was well used to it.

“If nothing else, it pays well,” Abdel observed, leaning against a wall nearby. He’d developed a surprisingly revolutionary streak of late, and this seemed like more of a conscious return to his mercenary roots. Penny scowled.

“Well, here’s the notice,” said the hooded man, thrusting it into Dory’s hands. The Feskan nearly fumbled it, but she managed to hold on and open it up a moment later. “If you’re interested, you’ll be making the world a better place and helping a family.” He took a few steps back as the youths leaned in and read. “I think the academy will understand, maybe even be grateful.”


“Gone,” said Oksana. It was a single word and, when the majority of the group looked up, their contact had disappeared. All that was left to do was to either respond to the plea or not. Weighty glances passed between them until, finally, Seviin broke the silence. “I will be going,” she announced. “These people, wealthy or not, are victims of my nation’s cruel war. I will not let them be victims again.”


Ch. 3B: Brothers (and Sisters)

“I’m sorry, Mr. Emerii, but we have given you an entire month to pay us what you borrowed.” Cherii made a pouty face. “It makes Mamah ever so sad when her friends abuse her generosity like this.”

“What Cherii means, Emrii, is that we’s gonna break yoah knees.” A tall, mean-looking yasoi with ginger hair and a crooked nose grinned and pounded a fist against his open palm. “Well, Daiyet is, anyway.”

“But the funds!” wailed their victim. “I’ve almost got them! Only two more days ‘til my next paycheck! I swear it!”

Cherii shook her head sadly. ”I’m sorry, Mr. Emerii, and I hope this doesn't hurt too much, but that’s what you said last time, and I just don’t believe you anymore.”

“No!” the makeshift shop owner wailed. “No no no! I have a family! Please! I’m an asset, please!”

For a moment, Diayet, absolute giant that he was, looked over at his sister. Cherii pursed her lips. Then, she shook her head tightly, turned on her heel daintily, and walked away. “You got it, bawss.” Daiyet set his jaw in a businesslike scowl and stalked forward. Mr. Emerii scrabbled back until he was grabbed, quite roughly, by a grinning Fantas. “This’ll go a lot easiah if ya stay still, ye know.” He wrenched the man square. “No!” he screamed. “I beg you, if you’ve any decency at all! I beg you in Oirase’s name! Please no!”

“Say, youse got a kinda… limited like… numbah of woids. What’s that called again?”

“Vocabulary,” grunted Daiyet, as he swung his bat. It connected with a satisfying crack and their truant debtor shrieked. “Yeeeah. Yeah! Vocabulary. Youse got a real limited vocabulary, Mistah Emrii.” Fantas held tightly onto him as he thrashed and Daiyet wound up for another crack: all seven feet and five hundred pounds of him. “Ain’t nuttin’ pehsonal there, chief,” He huffed, connecting again. “You just decided to fuck with Cola Brothahs -”

“And sistahs,” amended Fantas, thinking of Cherii and Coca.

“Doesn’t have the same ring.” Daiyet stepped back and scowled. Mr. Emerii lay broken on the floor, whimpering. “Anyway, you decided to fuck with the Cola Brothers, and Ma.” Daiyet crouched, handing Fantas the bat. “and we can’t juss let that go, yuhsee, or everyone’s gonna start doin’ it.”

Fantas nodded. “Now you uh… quit yoah whinin’ an’ go find yuhself a good bindah, ta patch you up, eh?” He paused and scowled for a moment. “Oh, and that’s two moah Magus ya owe us.”

Daiyet crossed his arms. “Labouh an’ service fee.” Fantas twirled the bat jauntily. Daiyet let out a snort. They turned and left the alley for their next task.

Cherii, of course, had left it some time ago, remanding Mr. Emerii to the care of her brothers. She stalked through the port district, a few of the yanii shooting her dirty looks, a few dirty old men following her a bit too closely with their eyes. She kept an eye out for who of course. That meant she had a lever she could use to manipulate them.

Eventually, she reached the print shop. Stopping and scowling, she buttoned up her blouse, fixed her hair, and tried to hide her pointed ears beneath her hat a little. The Colas had been here for months before the refugees started streaming in. It was why they were so well-positioned and even integrated, but a particularly acute bout of racism had gripped the town outside the city of late, and yaniis’ memories were as short as their ears. She took a deep breath, forced a smile, and pushed the door open. “Good morning, Sarah!” she chirped, and the girl at the front desk looked up at her warily, tucking something behind it. “Morning, Cherii.”

Despite the less-than-friendly greeting, Cherii kept up her smile. She’d find out what was behind the desk later. “Is your dad in right now?” she asked, as if it were just a casual request, and Sarah’s eyes met hers. For a moment, a powerful urge to violence welled up inside of her. Those looks - those fucking looks. They’d been friends at first - two girls around the same age - until the refugees had come, until Sarah had found out what the Colas did to make ends meet. Judgy little cunt. Let’s see you walk a mile in my shoes.

“I think he’s in the back. He might be in the middle of something. I’ll go get him.”

Quickened breathing, sweat, paling. Cherii translated body language in her head and waved off Sarah’s offer. “Oh, no need for you to waste your time and leave the front desk empty,” she replied cheerily. “You might have more customers Besides, one would hope I’d know my way around by now.” She met the huusoi’s gaze and smiled, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I don’t really mind and he’s um -”

Cherii brushed past her. “You wait here, Sarah.” She laid a hand upon the girl’s shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “This is business.” She strode into the back, alone, undoing the top button on her blouse and freeing her hair.

Mr. Marchand was at one of his machines, but he looked up when Cherii arrived. “Ah! Cherry darling!” She came to a stop, eyes flicking down toward her boots and then back up. She batted her eyelashes. “Good morning, Claude!” she replied in a singsong voice. “I got your summons.”

“Oh, hmm, yes!” He leaned in to embrace her, planting a kiss on each cheek. “So very nice to see you.” He drew back and his eyes swept over her from top to bottom. Cherii darling remained smiling, as she always did in the sight of others, and waited. “Ah, mhm! So, I had a job sent over from the city - rare these days, you’ll understand.”

Cherii stalked about the room, turning on the spot, her face hiding none of her interest in the topic. “Oh, truly?” she inquired. “Well, colour me intrigued.”

Claude nodded, his eyes on her before they flicked to the window and then to a shelf full of papers. He made his way over and plucked one out. “A missing boy - well, young man,” he amended. “Jackson Soul Doridax.”

The yasoi tried not to grimace at his butchering of her people’s names. Jaxan’suul’doridax She pondered for a moment. The Doridax name was well-known. Jaxan, though… who are you? Maybe he was the rich boy who’d come here slumming. She’d seen him once or twice, the last time in the company of some one-legged harlot. If scuttlebutt was to be believed, he’d been feeding the addicts. “Mind if I take a look?”

He looked down at the paper coyly and then up at her. There was the tiniest little flash of magic, and the door's lock bolted. “For you, ma cherie, anything.” The toady little man licked his lips and, all at once, she lunged forward, muscles augmented by the Gift, and snatched the notice from his hand. Claude’s eyes widened, and he stumbled a step or two back. Cherii’s eyes scanned the page and they widened as well. Promptly, to make amends, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “You are worth your weight in gold,” she chirped, And that’s quite a bit, in your case. “That’s why,” she continued, “We take care of you for half-price this month!” Cherii backed up a step, brandishing her smile. “This is very helpful, Mr. Marchand. We have to stay abreast of what happens in the community so we can protect it!”

If he was disappointed by her lack of interest this time, he soon got over it upon hearing that he’d only have to pay half of his usual protection fee. A rich kid gone missing in Mudville. Cherii’s mind was racing. Parents looking and willing to pay. She grinned. Pepsii, Coca, and Mama would have to hear about this one, posthaste!

Ch. 4A: The Enemy, Including Our Friends

“This is a genuinely urgent matter,” Penny decided. Zarina was there as well, looking over one of her shoulders. Yvain was looking over the other. Guy, she knew, would have already heard about such a thing and would be desperate to stop her from going. She would go anyhow. Ren Baykara, who Zarina had warned her about, was somewhere within the Groove, though the Perrenchwoman had not yet spotted him and had only description to go on anyhow. “And if we know,” she continued, “it’s likely that the enemy does as well.”

“The enemy, including friends of ours?” Zarina countered.

“Friends of yours, maybe,” Penny allowed, but then she considered Maura and relented. “The people we know on the other side wouldn’t be involved in something like this. They’re decent and sensible.”

“So does that mean we aren’t?” Zarina replied.

“You’re just racking up the points on me today, aren’t you?” Penny shot back.

Zarina grinned for a moment, but it didn’t last. The situation described was a serious one: a colossal raging beast that had destroyed ships in the region and threatened the welfare and perhaps even survival of a friendly port. A Revidian ship had been sunk and now the enemy was sniffing about. To what end, Penny did not know, but it bore investigation. “Says we get a portal to and from. Should be a short matter.” She glanced about at the others. “And I think all of us could use the coin around this place…” She’d settled upon it, in truth. She was going. She’d seen a similar notice for the Revidians and allies. There was more to this than there appeared to be and there was nobody whom Penny trusted better than herself and perhaps Yvain to handle it.


Ch. 4B: Endgozu Coast

It was early in the morning. The fog rolling off of the ocean still coated much of Zengali in a thin, clammy layer of dew that sparkled as the nascent sun reached it. Yet, already, people were moving about. The last of the fishermen were still trickling in with their catches - sparse, as of late. The city’s three monasteries, up in the mountains, were already hives of activity, some monks and nuns bustling about on their morning errands, others praying with special fervor given what had been happening of late.

In the terraced fields of the foothills, where the jungle had been hacked and burnt back through the efforts of man, farmers were already hard at work, weeding the fields, planting what needed to be planted, and cutting what needed to be harvested. The city had become more dependent than ever on what they grew, after all.

Ships hunkered in port, well within the protected waters of Zengali Bay, and market stalls began to open. Print shops hummed, their presses stamping out the news and notices of the day and a couple of notaries dashed about, pulling old or unauthorized fliers from posts and notice boards, reusing the nails where possible to pin the new ones, still warm from the machines. While they would not last long in this climate, so hostile was it to paper, they were of the utmost necessity, given current circumstances. Already, insurers, travelers, and those ship captains who could read were gathering round. Hunters, sellswords, and whalers looked for any updates.

Out on the Endgozu Coast, on the far side of the peninsula that protected this great, remote city from the ocean swell, was a boy of about twelve. He was one of a dozen or so people - most human, some yasoi or eeaiko - who came down here each morning, as the tide rolled out, to pick through the detritus of the sea for all of its hidden treasures. The job had become grim, of late, given what was happening, but the finds had still been there, and so he and the others had continued to work.

The deep grey waters of the Australic Ocean frothed and pounded against the cobble shore, occasionally lapping over his feet. How many planks were now strewn across the beach! How many nails he had pulled from them, virtually unrusted, for resale! The fog gradually receded and the boy was not the only one who glanced uneasily out at the ocean. Planks! So many planks, and occasionally barrels. He glanced, and then he froze. The large rucksack he slung over his shoulder clattered to the damp ground and he just stood there. There were things - dark things - bobbing up and down on the waves. Presently, one thumped dully against the shore some twenty meters down. Already, crabs were picking at it and birds circling overhead. Bodies: dozens of human bodies. The beast had struck again.

Ch. 5: Instant of Insanity

It was a large, dark room. Its walls, floor, and ceiling were stone and there was something unnaturally cool about the place. Perhaps it was a wine cellar of some sort, though the series of steel doors, each one semicircular, each opening from the bottom, each regularly spaced along one wall, made for a rather odd place to store wine.

Then, there was the large locker. Separated by ghulthite bars from the rest of the room, it was filled with carefully separated articles, labeled and kept distinct. They were all sorts of things, really: clothing, weapons, personal keepsakes, cash, swabs of blood and samples of hair. Most queerly, perhaps, there were two apples: pitch black but not rotten. Each had a single bite taken out of it. These were kept near an unusually-designed pistol, in something like a small cage, with a note tied to its lock.

Every once in a while, this strange, dark little world was visited by people in uniforms and scientific types, one of the semicircular metal doors was opened, and a cadaver was slid out upon a bier and wheeled into another room. By and large, however, it had remained undisturbed since the flurry of activity immediately following the overthrow of the city’s administration. Of course, such a boast is an open invitation and, naturally, that was when there came a loud ‘clank’ - quickly muffled. The door opened, just a crack.


They were, by the reckoning of both Dami and Reshta, people utterly abandoned and, yet, they gathered in their multitudes before the Seagate these days. They were a sore sight: addicts, destitute, prostitutes, urchins, and war-wounded. Many were more than one at a time. Precisely why they had chosen Ersand’Enise as their refuge was the cause of much speculation and consternation alike, but the fact was that they had.

During the calamity of the uprising a week or so previous, hundreds had slipped into the white-walled city. Some had managed to stay. Most had been tossed back out, even angrier and more wretched than before. It was not easy for yasoi to fade into a human crowd and go unnoticed, after all. Even the school’s handful of yasoi students now had to carry around identification cards at all times. Already, there were fakes being sold in Mudville so that those young enough might have a chance of slipping through.

The night guard, following a brief reshuffle after the revolution, was back at full capacity, and they took their job seriously. If they were supposed to be more empathetic and equitable, the refugees would never have known it. So it was that, on this rainy night, they responded enthusiastically to the attempted robbery of a wagon waiting outside of the gate for the first hours of Shune. So it was that they left the regular guards to be temporarily supplemented by junior replacements. Finally, so it was that, when a fight broke out among the beggars closest to the gate - those too elderly, infirm, or juvenile to pose a threat - the junior replacements stayed at their posts but were suckered in and watched, while their seniors refrained from getting involved and moved to form a perimeter.

Thus, for a window of approximately ten to twenty seconds, depending on the potentialities of a number of confounding variables, only two lamplighters were left to keep watch over the Seagate. They did not pay much attention to the one-legged figure that rose unsteadily to its lone foot, hunched over and swathed in filthy scraps of cloth. Instead, they shouted as a second figure made a dash for one of the other guards, and the guard to the west side of the gate peeled off to go deal with him. That left only one and, when he noticed the beggar headed in his direction, he blinked and began to turn her way.

She found his kidneys. Adrenaline down eighty percent. She helped bind much of it away. In truth, she’d already been working on the guards at this gate, on this particular shift, for the past three days, passively altering their hormonal production. Their reaction times were a solid five hundred milliseconds slower than human average, and human average was already poor. In short, they were pathetic. Serotonin up three hundred percent. She helped spread it through the target’s circulatory system, and his production had already been spiked over the past hour. She bent the light around her, he blinked, and she was back sitting by the side of the road. He blinked again, considering sounding the alert but, all that emerged from his mouth was a long and drawn-out yawn. He’d barely slept the past two nights and the problem had resolved itself. He glared at the one-legged hag crouching by the roadside for a moment longer before yawning again and turning his attention back to the fracas before it was broken up.

Meanwhile, Ailet’yrash’andarii passed through the gate, her own adrenaline production up two hundred percent. She slipped to the side as quickly as she possibly could, disappearing from the main street and slinking through the back alleys of the Crafters’ District. After counting twenty seconds traveling at an estimated rate of 2.5 meters per second, she felt herself far enough from the gate to find a barrel, sit on it, and toss away her rags. She had optimized her breathing and heartrate using Tecniito models, but her heart still pounded and sweat still beaded on her forehead. The young woman scowled. Such were the energy inefficiencies of crutch-dependent ambulation.

Presently, she reached out with the Gift, sensing for any buildups of energy that might indicate a strong magic user, but there were none outside of the gate area and the rain dampened her own. The yasoi breathed and brought her heartrate under control, tamping down on both the adrenaline and endorphins. She drew from the materials of the raggedy outfit to both confiscate the evidence and create a pool of workable matter. Ailet did not wrinkle her nose at much - she simply inhibited her olfactory bulb when needed - but spending close to a week playing the role of beggar in those filthy scraps had done it. She stood, naked, in this stinking back alley, and synthesized a fast-acting soap on her skin. She let this seep in and drew the rain in a sudden cascade to rinse herself clean. A quick blast of heat finished the job before she pulled her clothing from the knapsack she had spent the past week using to simulate a hunched back. Not thirty seconds later, she was dressed and ready. Almost reverently, she extricated a pair of large, round-rimmed glasses from a little pocket and pushed them up her nose. She smelled faintly of lavender now, while the alley was a delectable miasma of smoke, mould, and the mixed excrements - both urine and feces - of a half-dozen species. Presently, she slipped on her gloves, adjusted the headband that conveniently hid her ears, and inhibited her sense of smell. There was a line, here, between alertness and masochism.

Emerging onto a larger road, Ailet had a good idea of where she was and, when she located Landmark 1A - the public forge - this solidified in its entirety. Senses alert, she made her way down the street at her standard walking pace, adjusted upward for some degree of excitement. All about her rose this supposedly great yanii city, and it was, to some degree, a wondrous moment. She had never been to one before, and Ersand’Enise was profoundly different from the Osaian town where she’d grown up. Her curiosity demanded that she glance in the direction of that colossal tower that seemed to hang above the rainy city like a sword. She scanned the little storefronts, translating in her head. The houses were so overlarge and singular, though, and the yasoi scowled. She was not here as a tourist. Perhaps someday, when the thousand year mission was complete. Then, she might relax. Then, she might travel as her ancestors had.

Reaching Rossoneri Street, she walked one further and turned right, taking the back route. Once again, her energy sense swept her surroundings, and there she felt two guards and an unnatural cold amid the constant disruption of the weather. One hundred meters west on Rossoneri. she remembered. This had to be it.

Stealth was easier in the dark and rain, and Ailet bent what little light she needed to as she walked. Coming to a stop some thirty meters from her target, she set down her crutches, sat beneath an awning, and created an energy amalgamation that could be a person heading into the house she was using for cover. Meanwhile, she diffused her energy signature as best she could and reached out with her senses. One guard was stationary, by the door, eating betel nuts out of a bag. The other patrolled the square complex clockwise in cycles of fifty seconds, with a standard deviation of two point five in either direction. That was… a lot of variance. Ailet pushed up her glasses. Fucking amateurs. She grinned, allowing seven minutes to tick by where she incrementally raised the serotonin levels of both guards while encouraging the patroller's cochlear hair to solidify. At the five minute mark, she began lowering and strengthening a sonic negation bubble around the complex. Finally, she waited until the half hour, when some change in routine would have been most likely and, when it was not forthcoming, Ailet palmed her crutches, rose, and strode briskly over, timing her approach to coincide with the patroller disappearing around the corner.


Kinetic for thrust. Arcane for heat. Binding for insurance. The door guard perked up, noticing her approach, for it was too much to maintain so many magics at once and her light bending failed her. Then, with a bit of help, the betel nut he’d just popped into his mouth shot back and lodged itself into his throat. He coughed and wheezed and, quickly, she drew the sonic bubble in tighter. Thirty seconds. Then, the other idiot would pass into visual range. She swept for his energies. He was tired. Good. Slow. Even better. The nut expanded, its fibres popping under a flash of heat. She encouraged that growth with her binding and, the next thing that the target knew, he was hammering at his chest and his eyes were bugging out.

Ailet bolted forward. Twenty-seven seconds. She passed the edge of the bubble. “Are you okay, sir!?” He was sinking to his knees and clawing at his throat. “I’ll use the Gift! I-I’ll squeeze it out!” Instead, she got behind him and slammed his head into the landing step. He slumped, unconscious, and she grabbed his keyring. Eighteen seconds. She’d already felt out the lock from afar and there were only two keys here that could fit it. She tried the first. Nothing. She tried the second. Pay dirt. Ten seconds. The door opened with a light creak and she returned the key to his belt. Hastily, with little time and expertise paling in comparison to Tarlon’s other agent in Ersand'Enise, she shut off his cortisol, scrambled some of his neural signals, and hoped that it would pass for short-term memory loss due to cranial trauma. Three seconds. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her just as she sensed the other guard rounding the corner, pausing in shock, and running over to his fallen companion. She’d already released the sonic bubble and, now, all that remained was to avoid detection. The eagle has landed. There was no hiding her smile, and it grew to truly enormous, even grotesque proportions. Ca-caw!


Quietly, the Tarlonese operative took a deep breath and exchanged her round-rimmed glasses for a pair of sirrahi ones she had found as a girl. Then, she went still, trying to diffuse her heat signature across the area. If nothing else, the rain all-but guaranteed that any kinetic energy from her direction would be near-impossible to detect. She waited in uncertainty, counting two full minutes in her head and wondering, absently, if the patroller would manage to save the door guard. Generally, Ailet only killed in the name of science. It was quite meaningless otherwise.

Once the time was up, she did a tentative energy sweep and, satisfied that there were two living figures outside - lucky bastard - and that neither was paying any attention to her, she set off down a pitch black hallway, navigating by energy sense alone and occasionally using her crutches as makeshift feelers. A little light won’t be the end, she counseled herself, conjuring a Torch of Shiin.

At the end of the hallway was a staircase, leading downwards, and that was where the bodies were. That was where all of the interesting things were. She made haste for it, barely remembering to stop and sweep for security measures, taking the stairs two at a time.

At the bottom was a door: a locked door, but it wasn’t going to stop her. Reaching out, feeling the mechanisms inside, she turned one, and then another, and then slid a bolt. It took Ailet a good three minutes to get matters right, and so fast did her heart beat during this period that she failed to even count them out.


Then… pay dirt. The door opened with a surprisingly loud ‘clank’ until she hurriedly dropped a sonic negation bubble. It swung open and a cold light from her fingertips illuminated the fog of her breath. The yasoi’s pupils dilated and she switched to her third pair of glasses. Her eyes flicked about the room. First, came the body. After a few false starts, she found it, perfectly preserved in Vault 7B. With a binder’s expertise, she went over it, but nothing was out of the ordinary. He’d been killed by a gunshot, clean through the head, at an angle, velocity, and spin rate that suggested a ricochet. She scowled and slid him back in.

It would have to be the articles, and it took her no more than a minute to jerry the simple padlock. Already, within a second cage, she could see the items of interest: two apples, each with one bite taken out of them. Ailet’s pulse quickened. They were perfectly black. She could feel the sweat from her palms on her crutch handles. She made haste over, cut the lock with a tiny, focused blade of fire, and tossed it aside. Already, she could sense the magics on these: dark and profound. How they hadn’t ended up in the city’s greatest vault was beyond her. There wasn’t a trace of rot and she took them, eagerly, in her gloved hands before sweeping the room for anything else of interest. The pistol was better than mundane, she supposed, though it did not particularly interest her. This, she strapped to her single leg in a thigh holster. One apple was carefully tucked into her bag. The other… she held onto for a moment longer.


She took a deep breath, allowing herself a triumphant smirk. Extraction time. She’d refrained from using higher order magics until now, as they might’ve alerted someone more formidable than a pair of regular guards. Besides, she’d always been rubbish at them anyhow. Ailet held the black apple up to her mouth mischievously, but she reached for the threads of space and time in earnest, finding them, seizing them, and…

Then, he stood before her: a monster among monsters. Though he was no taller than her, Joshe Intaba seemed to loom over the girl with a power and presence she could not dream of matching. “Put your stolen goods down and you don’t die here, Tarlonese.”

In what seemed an impossible small instant, he drew to capacity and Ailet could feel her stomach turn and her vision swim. How had he found her? How had he known or arrived so quickly!? Had it all been a trap!?

Joshe Intaba regarded Ailet’yrash’andarii, mighty and merciless. Ailet, whose reflexes had always been preternaturally fast and who could now, dimly, sense the surge of adrenaline roaring through her veins, suffered an instant of insanity. She began to raise her hands but, in the moment the apple was no more than two inches from her face, she lunged forward and bit it.



Act Six Particulars

Welcome to Act Six of The Hourglass Order! The dust has begun to settle following the revolution. Is the new administration any better than the old one? While they certainly seem to think so and are asking some of us to help them prove it, many seem skeptical, and not without cause. Ultimately, however, the world doesn't keep safe and orderly of its own accord and, once more, we are called into the fray? Will you answer or have you finally had enough?

This arc will cover the rest of our sophomore year and consist of a pair of short missions, separated by an intermission period that will see Jocasta's and Yalen's wedding (finally!) take place and will also see us undertake some... social activities. In terms of the missions, characters filtered into each have been selected based on preference or, if none was given, based on storyline potential and group distribution. While some positions are pointedly flexible, others are definitely preferred. If you'd like to make any changes or are new and wish to be placed, talk to myself or a Co-GM before the missions start and tell us why. We'll try to accomodate you if at all possible, of course!

That said, from this point onward, though we'll be coordinating, the two halves of White Thresher will be handled by none other than our own @dragonpiece while Ransom Demand will be run primarily by @Suicharte and @Jumbus. Please be nice to them and communicate if you won't be able to post for whatever reason. As this arc will be largely forum-focused as opposed to discord, there will be strict deadlines in effect to keep things moving, and players are actively encouraged to post more and shorter content. While longer posts that sum up discord events and add new material have the advantage of being rewardingly literary, they do not work well for quick back-and-forths and multiple actions that involve coordination with other characters. Keep this in mind and we should all have a great time with these missions and our sixth act. Below, you'll find the apprentice groups reposted for your convenience. Happy writing!



In The Hourglass Order → 8 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Clunk.

Clatter.

Thump!

This was war in the Empire of Tantiac, and it looked surprisingly normal. The wagon train between Tanythen, Soisanda, and Yandreluul saw business even at the worst of times but, with the ban on unsanctioned teleportation, it was suddenly booming. The nineteen-year-old leaned back in her seat, trying to catch something like sleep, but she'd have needed to chemically douse herself in serotonin to have so much as a chance.

Clunk.

Clatter.

Thump!

And then, a new sound: "Hah. Aaahah. Aaaaah Aaaahah. Whaaaaa!"

Momentarily, she thought about turning off her ears. On some level they still rang with the words of the general: equal parts commendation and rebuke. You charmed them, Dichora, like we hoped you would. How approving he'd sounded, for once. But these Ersand'Enise yanii have very short memories when it comes to the good and very long ones when it comes to the bad. She'd not known what to say, so she'd simply nodded. You sure you didn't let them charm you back? She'd spoken against the accusation, for that was effectively what it had been, even with its somewhat informal tone. She'd requested that she be sent into the theatre with Chad and Miret. Nowhere else I'd rather send you, kid, but I craft the tactics, not the strategies.

Request denied.

And so she'd asked if she might return home for a week, as a morale exercise, but Chad had been sent in her stead, as a member of the winning team at the Trials. Her performance, in comparison, had been an embarrassment. Fuck your embarrassment. Those people were tough. Plus, she'd sworn she'd do things differently from last time: no big dark magic, no intimidating or bullying people. She, Miret, and Chad had been sent there to both charm and succeed. They'd decided that Chad would succeed, and the cousins would charm. Tyrel would always be granted her gilded cage. Chad's status depended on his personal success.

Request denied.

They had been seen too much together recently, as if they were exclusively each other's in the fashion of yanii and some consoi. It was scandalous and, like a child, she needed to be managed for her own good and the two of them temporarily separated. Chad had done his part, bedding Juulet, Seviin, and half a dozen yanii girls. He'd have made a pass at Penny too were it not for Ashon. He'd done it to be convincing, she knew, and because it was right to share oneself and one's love, even if one kept a luush'elar. And yet... Tyrel thumped her head against the side of the passenger car, groaning as a baby continued to wail over the desperate coos of its mother, two old men yammered loudly in the dialect of Osai, and a trio of children continued to chase each other around halfheartedly, with nothing better to do. Who had Tyrel given the gift of herself to, the general had asked. If she were a bit more generous, he had added, then perhaps her leave could be considered...

Request denied.

She'd been offered leave for Saliac, where her aunt, uncle, and a few cousins lived. She'd been denied teleport permission, hence the wagon train. Avatar of the Fallen Goddess she scoffed inwardly, but it was something. Most people couldn't simply request leave for nothing other than a desire to see family in the midst of a war. All around flew the banners of the Siip'suuras. Children painted them in school between making maps of Consoi lands, learning about the people and the animals there, and training in war games. Jaadas, Juuras, Tan'daxii: the words were on everyone's lips. Victory, Justice, Deliverance. They were so eager to give up their luxuries. They were so eager to drill or work extended hours. They were so united in imagination at what they might finally achieve now that the thousand-year plan had been put into action. Tyrel knew, as she watched a little boy tag a little girl on the soldier - "Caught you, Yanii-jexoff!" - that it was not so simple a picture; nothing ever was. And yet... maybe they could do it. The consoi might hate them for it for some time. Some might fight back - she'd already seen where they had - but their kings were cruel and corrupt. Their nations were failed. Addiction, pestilence, poverty, and chaos stalked their lands. What did they fight for? Why did they fight? Was it for their own stubborn pride or was it something as nebulous and ill-defined as a sense of identity.

A high-pitched shriek from the baby caused her to drape her spare shirt over her head. She tapped her boot rhythmically on the floor in annoyance. "Hyco faiyiil luun'ithan..." she hummed to herself.

"Duun juu saluuv!" came a reply, and Tyrel cracked an eye open. It was 'Yanii'jexoff' from earlier. The little girl, unbidden, had slid into the empty seat to her right and was smiling tentatively up at her. She must've been no more than five or six. "Holum duul alax." The child grinned. "You look really sleepy. I'm sleepy too."

From a seat some ways down, a bedraggled-looking woman leaned forward. "Tyrel, leave the nice lady alone!"

The 'nice lady' started at that. Tyrel wasn't a rare name, but it was not common either. She pushed off from the soft upholstery and leaned forward. "Oh, it's no worry. I can't sleep anyhow, and she's being sweet."

The woman replied with a nod and a grateful look, twisting to shout at the boy. "Maxan! Maxan, here!" She twisted back to Tyrel - perhaps both Tyrels. "Sorry! And thank you." Her voice rose. "Tyrel!" The girl perked up and the teenager forced herself not to. "You don't bother her with silly things, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Okaaaayyy, mom." Then, it was just the two of them. "So, you're Tyrel, hmm?"

The girl arched an eyebrow and nodded. "What's your name?"

"Well, I'll give you a clue: it's something to do with winter."

"Telaxii?"

She shook her head.

"Well, mine's a winter name too. It means snow."

Tyrel the elder nodded. "I'll give you a second clue: when your mother called you, she called me too."

The girl's eyes widened. "Tyrel! You're Tyrel too!" Both Tyrels smiled at each other. "Well, I didn't think I'd meet another Tyrel today! I only know two: One's my grandmother and the other was in my class last year but now she's in a different class."

"I knew I'd meet another Tyrel today," the older of the two responded. "In fact, as soon as I saw you, I thought, 'that's another Tyrel, for sure.'"

The child looked skeptical. "Really?" she pressed, and Tyrel nodded. "They say we all come out when it's winter, you know."

"My mom calls me 'snow angel'," she confirmed, kicking her feet back and forth. If the bench had some nice upholstery - a necessity for what was effectively a sleeper wagon - It was still a basic thing, with empty space beneath. She kept kicking back and forth, humming a little tune and looking at her senior expectantly. "It's a way to practice music," she declared. "I use my legs to keep time." She glanced at Tyrel's lone leg. "Did you learn the same way?" she asked, and the teenager decided to mess with her a little bit by nodding. "I think everybody does."

"Oh," was all that she received in return and there was a long pause filled only with her slight disappointment. "Why do you have one leg?"

Kids. An adult would've blushed to ask such a question. A five-year-old did not. Tyrel felt a small finger poke her stump. "It's so squishy!" The girl made a face of endless amusement.

"Tyrel..."

"Yeah?"

"Did I say you could poke me?"

"Sorry." There was another pause. Then: "Sooo..."



"Well, you see there, buckaroo," the Avatar of Vyshta began, "one time, when I was just a weeeeee little nugget of a person, roundabout your age, I made me the mistake of gettin' a murderpenguin as a pet."

"You have a murderpenguin!?"

"Had, past tense, and I think you may be missing the point of this here story."

"Oh." The child shook her head. "It bited off your leg, right?"

Tyrel scowled. "Well now you've gone and ruined it."

"Sorry..."

"So anyways, I had me a great big honkin' murderpenguin, with flappy little wings and a long swingy neck and a sharp snappy beak."

"What was his name?"

"Mortimer Montgomery Masterson-Murderpenguin, Esquire."

Little Tyrel blinked.

"Monty, for short."

"Oh. My dowsingjay is named Berry."

"Well that's a nice name," Tyrel senior lied. It was boring. It was, in fact, only nice because an adorable little kid had clearly named it. "Anyhow, one day, I decided to take ol' Monty there for a swim."

"By yourself!?"

"Yeah," the teenager responded. "Why not?"

"But you said you were six?"

"Five, actually."

"But you said you were my age."

One mystery solved. "Oh. I thought you were five."

"Nuh-uh! I'm six and one quarter, actually."

"Well alrighty then. So, anyhow, I took him out for a swim -"

"You could swim?"

"Yes, Tyrel."

"Okay, Tyrel. Wow. I can't swim."

"Well, I could."

"I can run fast." She looked over at the older girl's missing leg smugly.

"Good for you. Have a cookie."

"Do you really have cookies or is that just some grownup thing to say?"

"Some grownup thing to say." She smiled tightly. "So, I was taking Monty out for a swim and -"

"My mom never lets me go out on my own."

"That's because you don't have a murderpenguin."

"Neither do you... anymore."

Child, I swear to Shiin, screw the story. I am going to destroy you with facts and logic. She went with something a touch more conciliatory, however. "Am I going to tell the story or are you gonna try to guess it?"

"What was it about, again?"

It was at that moment that Tyrel the elder knew she was beaten. "Oh, it was just about how badly I wanted murderpenguin eggs."

"Are they really yummy?" The child bounced up and down on her seat.

"I wouldn't know. I never got to eat them."

The girl's eyes widened. "Why?"

"Well, you see, I was an expert fisherman back then and -"

"Why not fishergirl?" Little Tyrel blinked in earnest curiosity. "Why's it always 'man' for everything?"

That was... actually not a bad point, the older Tyrel allowed. "Because, otherwise, men won't feel special and important, so we let them have it."

"That's dumb. How about girls?"

"Well, we're a bit tougher than them.'

The child nodded dubiously.

"So anyhow, I went swimmin' with that there murderpenguin Mortimer."

"Monty."

"Both names are okay."

"But you said Monty before."

"Whose penguin was he?"

Little Tyrel rolled her eyes.

"So, there's nothing that murderpenguins like better than tasselfish and I decided to catch me one o' them big suckers!"

"To feed Monty?"

Tyrel nodded. "Exactly! So I took out my bait and dangled it in the water. Can you guess what that bait was?"

"Miss? Are you the Avatar of Vyshta?"

With that, the last of Tyrel's confidence was shattered, though she wasn't quite certain if it was confidence in herself or in children. She sighed. "Nope," she lied, aware of her duty to not be noticed. "Just some random girl with one leg."

"Oh," the child replied. "Are you sure?"

Tyrel arched an eyebrow. "I think I know who I am." Immediately, profound questions leapt to mind. Immediately, she brushed past them.

"Oh, it's just 'cause I'm named after her and she's my hero."

Tyrel swallowed. Shit. "Tyrel, lean in close for a second." The girl did so and she whispered something in her ear. Their eyes met, the smaller one's wide. "You can't tell anyone, okay?"


It was a cold somnes, snow already coating the ground. Behind Tyrel, the wagon was receding into the distance, its flickering lamps becoming faint. Three other figures - anonymous people - had separated almost immediately, hurrying home in the cold and the dark, arms wrapped around themselves. The teenager's breath came out in wispy white puffs and her footsteps crunched in the fresh white snow. She twisted on the spot, eyes roving about her surroundings: the distant line of leafless trees, the glowing partial orbs of the moons, and the line of footprints she had left to connect her to the wagonway station. She knew the way back by heart. Likely, she could navigate it blindfolded. In the distance, perched amid the giant branches of Aldreth, Daxodreth, and Luudreth lay Saliac. There, lay her old home and Miret's. There, people knew her. There, she could simply be Tyrel.

In The Hourglass Order → 8 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


She had one leg.

Chad sat at his desk as Alta Sansuul went on. "Why don't you introduce yourself to the class, dear?"

He watched her walk. He wasn't the only one. The class always erupted in speculation whenever there was to be a new student. Alta Sansuul usually heard a few days ahead of time and let slip the juicy secret to whoever had scored the highest on the weekly exam. This time, nobody had known. This time, the usual crescendo of murmurs and excited whispers was notably absent. Every student could hear every awkward click-thump, click-thump of the new girl's one legged steps as she made her way towards the teacher's desk. Her eyes flicked nervously their way for a moment and Chad thought he caught them before they escaped to the safety of the floor. He saw her throat tighten as she swallowed and, suddenly, it was as if he was in her shoes - shoe - and absorbing every bit of the mind-racing terror she must've been in. Still, he watched. Eyes continued to dart among the students.

It wasn't as if he hadn't seen a one-legged person before. Everyone had. There were statues of the fallen goddess Vyshta. Then, there were the discards who came back from the frontiers from time to time: ones who'd survived some sort of animal attack, writhing tree, or other unknown horror. There was lots that hadn't been discovered yet deep in the Writhing Wood. Chad watched the new girl come to a stop. She wasn't just missing a foot or anything either: it was her entire leg. He paused, trying to recall right and left. My left, he remembered, her right. There was only a tiny bit of it left and he watched it just kind of dangle there as she stood, jiggling slightly when she turned on the spot. He found himself burning with curiosity and he could not have been alone. He'd never actually known anyone with such a gnarly injury. What had happened? What was the story? He remembered not to stare. His father had told him not to.

The silence hung ripe and heavy and Alta Sansuul's eyes momentarily joined those of her students in glancing the one-legged girl's way expectantly. She opened her mouth as if to speak but, then, all at once, the new arrival took a deep breath and: "I'm Tyrel and I just got here last night from all the way out in Saliac and I'm tireder than you could imagine... but I'm happy to be here." She flashed a nervous smile, as if having to remind herself to do so. Her eyes flicked up and searched the class and Chad tried to give her a reassuring look. At least she sounded just like any other girl, really. Why would she not have?

"Well, we'll get you caught up soon enough," promised the teacher. "And perhaps be a tiny bit lenient if we see any yawns or daydreaming in class."

Tyrel's big green eyes darted to Alta Sansuul's. "Thank you Alta," she replied, and her voice was kind of nice, "But I promise you won't need to." Now, there were a couple of whispers - a couple of murmurs. The new girl had given them something else to chew on besides a missing leg. The teacher looked at her questioningly and there was a hind of something in the girl's eyes that reminded him of his brother Darien when he was about to - "I always try to put my best foot forward."

There was a collective intake of breath. Eyes widened among the smarter kids and the teacher clammed up. A couple burst out in nervous giggles and snickers. "And I always succeed, too," concluded Tyrel with a straight face. In an instant, Chad reevaluated her entirely. He grinned. The girl smiled back. Was it at him, specifically?

Alta Sansuul smiled as well, in that way that adults did when they were reacting to something unexpected from kids. "Oh? she remarked, "Then I shall expect much from you Tyrel'dichora."

The girl bit her lower lip as if stifling a grin. Then she smiled up at the teacher. "I'll do my best, Alta Sansuul," she promised, "But I'm not like... some goody two-shoes," She replied, and now even the dullest among her audience could not doubt what she was doing it on purpose. The teacher let out a snort of amusement. "Well, it seems that year three has yet another original."

Tyrel shifted on the spot, resting the little stump of her leg on one of her crutch handles. That seemed to bring everyone back to what they'd noticed first about her, before she'd been funny. "Well, instead of me asking you to keep talking about yourself," the teacher offered, "We're going to let the class ask."

Tyrel nodded.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she called out in her singsong voice, "What kind of questions are we going to ask?"

Chad knew the answer to this. It was an easy way to win points with Alta Sansuul, so his hand shot up along with a half dozen others'. As usual, one of the girls with ribbons in her hair was picked. "Relevant, Respectful, and Reasonable," she chirped and the teacher nodded. "Exactly, class!" She clapped her hands together before turning to Tyrel, speaking in a low voice. "If there's anything you're uncomfortable answering, you don't have to," she promised.

"Okay," the girl replied sheepishly, and the chorus of whispers only grew. From behind Chad, Ashon tapped him on the shoulder. "I dare you to ask it," he whispered, eyes gleaming with mischief and a hint of malevolence as Chad twisted to face him. A couple of others were looking his way as well.

"Uh huh?" came Tyrel's voice suddenly, and Chad turned back around. She was pointing at Emiin. "What is your favourite colour?" she asked, and Tyrel furrowed her brow. After a moment she shrugged. "Magenta," she declared, "And then maybe light green."

"I like magenta too," Emiin lied, or maybe it wasn't a lie. Chad didn't know her favourite colour and it probably changed every weak, realistically.

Three more hands shot up. "Do you have Titan sloths in Saliac?" came Samon's question.

Tyrel nodded vigorously. "We do, and they're huge!"

"Have you seen one?"

The girl seemed a bit lost for response for a moment and Velani whispered from the desk beside Samon. "Of course she has if she just said they're huge, dumbass."

Samon shrunk two sizes and something flashed in Tyrel's eyes. "Actually, I didn't just see one," she replied, "I got to ride on one once."

People shifted in their seats and conversation rose. Either Tyrel was one of those kids who told a lot of ridiculous stories or she'd had a really interesting life. Of course, the most interesting question hadn't been asked yet, as if everyone was just waiting for someone else to ask it.

"What other animals did you see there? Oh, are there writhing trees?"

Tyrel nodded and, all at once, she lifted her stump off of her crutch handle so she could grab it. She took a small step. "There are, and we need to hack them back every day. Saliac's not quite on the frontier, but it's close. A lot of mundanes come through it on their way there."

It was like they were sharks, ever more certainly circling in towards the question they wanted to ask, trying to make it seem natural so it wasn't rude, as if by collective agreement. Chad raised his hand and was chosen immediately. "Have you ever been to the Writhing Wood?" he asked daringly, and people leaned forward on their elbows or lifted their butts off of their seats.

With a small, close-lipped smile, Tyrel nodded. "A couple times. It was..." She trailed off. "scary but amazing."

Chad was going to ask a follow-up, but Thandar was practically falling out of his seat in eagerness to ask the next question and Tyrel picked him with a nervous but good-natured smile. "Did any of them try to eat you?" People bounced up and down nervously. Alta Sansuul's eyes scanned the room warningly, but Tyrel shook her head. "Not really. Sometimes, their branches move a bit in your direction but, as long as you keep moving, you're fine."

"Well, since we're going to be learning about the different regions of Tarlon starting tomorrow," the teacher interjected, "It'll be very nice to have someone who's lived in such a different one." She smiled. "Maybe Tyrel will really have a chance to put her best foot forward and help us with some of our wonderings."

There were a dozen hands up now. "You ever see any really dangerous animals?" asked Sandii, kneeling on her seat until a venomous look from the teacher forced her to sit properly. Tyrel nodded. "Yeah, but mostly just in the distance."

Jasco was next. "How 'bout when you saw 'em not in the distance? Were you scared? Did you fight them?"

Tyrel arched an eyebrow, taking one of her weird steps back. "Of course I was scared. I was with my dad and brother." She shrugged. "I ran away."

A few pairs of eyes went to her leg, or lack thereof, once more. How do you run? They were all thinking it, but none asked.

"What's your brother's name?" came a reprieve from Lyla.

"Calidan!"

"That's my brother's name!"

"How old is he?"

"Fourteen," Tyrel replied, eyes roving about the sea of hands and faces.

"Did he outrun you?" Thandar's question was particularly brazen, and a few people shot him annoyed looks. "Um." Tyrel's eyes flicked the teacher's way, but she didn't ask for help. That was the worst thing she could do and she seemed to know it. "I mean, he's a lot older than me, so what do you think?"

Velani made the 'poop' sign at Thandar and rolled her eyes. A few people laughed and he opened his mouth to protest. "You know what I was trying to ask!" he retorted. "I just wanted to -"

Alta Sansuul clapped and, out of reflex, Chad clapped back with the others. "Thandar, quiet time one!" she singsonged. There were two more claps. "Velani, quiet time two!" Clap clap. "Class! Three 'R's!"

As one, they recited, even Tyrel, Chad noted, tentatively.

"Exactly, everyone!" She cleared her throat as Thandar and Velani glared daggers at each other for as long as they could until retreating into their opposite-corner wall-facing exiles. "Now, do we have any more questions that follow our three 'R's or are we finished, class?" Chad wanted to die. There were so many dumb people. He raised his hand and Tyrel, scanning the crowd, chose him again. Emiin let out a frustrated huff. "So, if it's okay with you, I'm just gonna ask the thing I think everyone wants to." He wasn't trying to be rude, but he was pretty sure it was rude anyway. He plowed forward regardless, despite Alta Sansuul's warning look. "So, um..." He was starting to clam up. He never clammed up. Why did he suddenly care so much about this random girl? She'd probably be like all the other girls in the class once the novelty wore off and they'd only ever talk to each other when they were paired up for stuff. "What happened to your leg?"

Gasps and murmurs. Chad had done it again, of course: the thing everyone else had wanted to do, and at just the right moment. Ironically, he hadn't really been meaning to. He'd just honestly started feeling bad for Tyrel, having to put up with so many dumb questions. Maybe you're not so bad, for a girl, like Velani. Maybe we can kind of be friends.

"Oh," replied Tyrel after a moment, and everyone went dead silent. "It was anklechewers," she admitted, "I think you call them kneebiters here?" She looked at Alta Sansuul and the teacher nodded, along with a few other people. "I was five and I got lost in the forest and bitten. I wasn't supposed to be there and I didn't want my parents to know so I didn't tell them."

"Well that's stupid," Chad could hear Samon whisper to Ashon, and he made a note to punch the former at recess. Tyrel's eyes flicked his way, too, as if she might've heard, and he pretended to be looking elsewhere.

"It was pretty dumb," she addressed him indirectly, "but I was five and five-year-olds are dumb. Anyway, the eggs spread and they had to cut my leg off or I probably would've died." She shrugged again, only a little bit uncomfortable. "Honestly, I'm used to it and, most of the time, it isn't that bad." She sniffed and glanced about, eyes finding the teacher momentarily before returning to her peers. "Honestly, I know I'm kind of a rare thing, so if you wanna know anything, you can just ask. It doesn't bug me."

Alta Sansuul nodded approvingly at Tyrel and, momentarily, at Chad as well. He would get a checkmark today. He could feel it. For a moment, whispering and murmured conversation held the class, but then there were more hands. "You said you ran. How do you run?" There were plenty of nods and more murmurs.

"I can show you at recess," Tyrel replied eagerly. "There's two ways: the like... jogging run and the hundred percent run for your life run." She shook her head. "They're totally different."

"And, speaking of recess," the teacher interjected, "We need to get started on today's arithmetic before we run out of time." She turned to the new girl. "Tyrel?"

"Yes, Alta?"

"Thank you very much for your informative and amusing answers."

"You're very welcome, Alta Sansuul."

"Boys and girls!" the teacher singsonged, and they all perked up. "Let's all give our new student a big round of applause and make her feel very welcome today."

Chad clapped along with the others. Ashon's claps were obnoxiously loud, as usual, as if he thought it was some sort of competition.

"The empty desk near the door is yours," Alta Sansuul was telling Tyrel. "You'll find a slate inside."

Tyrel bowed her head. "Thank you," she replied in a small, sweet voice, making her way over. A few people watched, but the novelty was already beginning to wear off now that their burning question had been answered. She took her seat, pulled out her slate, and that seemed to be the cue for everyone else to do so. Velani and Thandar were called back belatedly to join in and class routine returned to its norm: waiting for the clock to tick its way to 1:00 HO so that recess could begin.

Chad had earned some goodwill, and so he was chosen for a few questions. Duly, he calculated his equations, erased with his rag and not his sleeve, and flipped his board when asked to. Alta Sansuul tried to call upon everyone at least once and, when Tyrel stood to give her answer, people took a bit more interest, just to see if she was smart. Chad found himself a bit disappointed not in her response, but in the fact that she was so far from him. He felt like he'd made kind of a friend, and he didn't want to have to wait until recess when the other girls would inevitably steal her away and she'd be busy demonstrating how she ran - not that he wasn't curious himself.

The minutes faded one into the other, and so did the equations. Times tables were easy. That was when he felt a gentle tap on his side: it was a note, passed surreptitiously by Sandii, and he took it with the smallest nod. He opened it and quickly closed it up, warmth rising in his cheeks. His eyes shot Tyrel's way and hers flicked over to meet them. Did she give a hint of a smile or did she follow the unspoken code that one did not acknowledge sending such letters. He wasn't sure. He opened it again. Then, feeling guilty, he folded it gently, tucked it deep into his desk, and decided to keep it.


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