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In Avalia → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay



Time: EVENING
Location: EXT./INT. THE TIPSY TAVERN - RIVER PORT
Interactions/Mentions: The guy cosplaying as an elf @princess; The golden lion furry @Helo; The lady in a purple dress @Tae; Tavern patrons
Equipment:




Jun stood at the entrance of The Tipsy Tavern, his heart doing a weird jitterbug. He wasn't exactly a fan of places like these (too loud, too much going on). But as much as he wanted to leave River Port and put as much distance between Malachi and the others, he knew wandering around in the dark wasn't the brightest idea. Plus, he had zero clue which way to go. And, as any seasoned RPG player knows, a tavern's the best place to gather info. Biting the bullet, Jun pushed open the creaky door.

Immediately, he was hit by a wall of laughter, chatter, and all-out party noise. The air, thick with the scents of spilled booze and tobacco smoke, carried an undercurrent of musky, not-so-charming hint of BO that really, really needed to be aired out. He grimaced as his shoes stuck to the floor with every step – when did they last mop up this mess? The combined heat from all the bodies and fireplace only made things even more unpleasant.

The place was rammed with clientele from every corner of life. Around scattered tables, weary travelers and townsfolk were kicking back, offloading their day's burdens. Some were all about that drink in hand, others about the company they kept. Over in one corner, a bunch of regulars, still in their work clothes, were going hard at a darts game. The thud of darts hitting the board mixed with cheers and groans, as bets were won and lost. In another corner, an orc and what looked like a minotaur were locked in an intense arm-wrestling match, surrounded by a shouting crowd. High above, a bard was trying their best to strum out a tune on their lute, which got pretty much lost in the racket.

Right in the heart of it all, there was a wild party going on. It gave off major frat party vibes – the kind Jun always steered clear of back in uni.

As Jun tried to navigate through the crowd towards the bartender, he got a sudden shove. The burly, scar-faced dude in mismatched armor who bumped into Jun shot him a stink eye, clearly miffed by Jun's failure to dodge.

"Hey, watch it!" he slurred as he swayed on his feet.

"I-I'm sorry, I did-di-di-didn't mean to—" Jun stammered, backing away.

The guy squinted and studied Jun's appearance. "You're not from around here, are you?" He leaned in close enough for Jun to get a whiff of his last few drinks. "Hold up… You... a Human?"

"N-no!" Jun blurted. If he remembered Avalia's setting correctly, 'humans' don't naturally exist. The only ones that do were the summoned 'chosen.' Meaning, it'd be easy for The New Dawn to track Jun down if he said he was human. Safer to pretend he was roleplaying as some other race. "I'm… um… uhhh…" His eyes zipped around and landed on a group of dwarves. "A dwarf!"

For an awkward beat, the guy said nothing, blinked, then frowned. "A dwarf?"

"Y-yes. A very tall dwarf." Jun quickly added. "With giantism."

The guy just stared (and Jun could only return the look) until he cracked up. "A giant dwarf, you say! Haven't seen those before." He slapped Jun on the back. "Sit your giant dwarven arse down, boy, and drink!" Before Jun could protest, he was dragged into the thick of the party and pushed onto a seat. A massive jug of beer thudded in front of him, its frothy contents sloshing over.

"Uh… thank you, but I just wanted to ask if anyone knows the best way out of River Port," Jun tried to explain but wasn't sure if anyone could hear him over the noise. "Or if there's anything dangerous out there I should watch out for..."

"You want answers, giant dwarf? You drink with us!" declared the guy and the table roared in agreement. "Bottoms up!"

Feeling the weight of dozens of eyes on him, Jun hesitantly lifted the jug to his lips, the heavy scent of beer filling his nostrils. With a deep breath, he took a careful sip.

In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 5 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix
Time: Evening
Location: Damien Estate’s Ballroom
Interaction(s): Lady Charlotte Vikena @princess; Mr. V (Kazumin Nagasa) @samreaper

“I'm alright, and you?”

Again. She did that again. Hurt surfaced in Ryn’s smile. “Disheartened,” he admitted.

He turned his head toward the other party attendees, keeping one ear attuned to the murmured exchange between Mr. V and Lady Vikena, as his eyes roved over the sea of masks in search of the weasel. It did not take long to spot Peter engaged in a spirited dance with Ms. Persephone. Their movements were delightfully out of sync with the music. There was an anarchic charm in their carefree twirls and steps. A twinge of guilt pricked at Ryn at the thought of interrupting their merriment.

Raising a hand, Ryn attempted to signal Peter. A misinterpretation from a couple of guests across the room led to a few returned waves, but the intended recipient seemed to remain oblivious. Just as Ryn prepared to try again, Peter’s dance shifted. The redhead took a step away from Ms. Persephone and did a jig; his feet executed a rapid shuffle while his lifted arms remained relatively still, save for the familiar cant.

Peter
Time: Night
Location: Damien Estate Ballroom
Interaction(s): Persephone Olivia @Potter

“So, Rogue, do you know how to dance as well?”

Peter barked a laugh. “What? You mean that?” He gave a dismissive jerk of his chin towards the other couples, shuffling in a monotonous funeral procession. “That ain’t dancing. That’s paint drying.” His grin turned conspiratorial, “This is a dance.” Without warning, Peter swept Olivia into an energetic dance of his own making. Every twist and turn were spontaneous, guided by nothing but their laughter and whims, a stark contrast to the stiff-backed formality suffocating the room.

As they spun, Peter’s sharp eyes caught sight of Fritz, probably itching to deliver a lecture about Olivia. He weighed the option of pretending not to notice the other man but knew better than to try.

Reluctantly, he took a step back from Olivia and broke into a jig, a ruse for their secret conversation.

Fritz lowered his hand and discreetly signed back. Friend. He angled his finger in Cowlick’s general direction. Wants black powder. Can you get some?

Black powder? Was Cowlick gonna raze C-Bert’s mansion to the ground? The thought sent a wicked grin across his face. That sounded like his kind of thing… But first.

Peter switched up his steps. Depends. He then gave Olivia a quick, meaningful glance. Can we keep her? It was a long shot, but he had to ask.

Fritz just folded his arms in response. Peter shrugged internally. Well, worth the shot. He’d try his luck again later.

On it, Boss. With a playful hop, Peter returned to Olivia, slowing their dance to a pace that allowed him to draw her close.

“You know, for a noblewoman, Lady Olivia, you’re not half as bad on the dance floor. You go out a lot?” He twirled her under his arm, “I picked up most of my moves from festivals and taverns.”

Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix

“Char...did Lady Violet say anything or show desire towards coming to this party or that other one going on..that..ritual party or something by that huge bear of a man or something?” Ryn’s ears perked up at the mention of Lady Damien’s name. “Basically, I'm asking if you spoke to her prior and if so, if she expressed interest in the events?”

Ryn surveyed the ballroom for Lady Damien amongst the vibrant gowns and crisp suits. When he failed to locate her, he sought her magical signature—the magicae he had seen at the tea party—through the enchanted lenses, but to no avail. “I’ve been here since the party started, but I haven’t seen her at all,” he said as he continued his search.

Then, from the corner of his enchanted sight, a black amorphous shape crept in. The energy coalesced into tormented visages that dissipated just as quickly. Brief flashes of dark magenta flickered within like lightning in a storm cloud. However, before he could discern the magicae or its bearer, a group of guests walked onto the dance floor, blocking his line of sight at the same moment the enchantment lost its effect. Well, that’s not ominous and unsettling at all.

In Avalia → 5 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
In I'm dying trying to find decent roleplay platfroms. → 5 mos ago Forum: Introduce Yourself
Welcome to the Guild! Total coincidence, but I made a character named Jun with the exact same image you used for your avatar XD
In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 5 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Ríoghnach "Riona"
Time: Night
Location: Damien Estate Ballroom
Interaction(s): Shehzadi Nahir @Rodiak

Part of Riona wondered if the so-called “dragon who enjoys pouring sweet beverages on lovely women” was none other than Shehzadi Nahir herself—a warning, maybe, not to cross her—or an entirely different person.

Feeling soft lips brush her hand, she became acutely aware that Shehzadi Nahir and Shahzade Munir shared more than just a familial name; a penchant for flirtation ran deep in al-Kadir’s bloodline. Despite herself, Riona couldn’t help but smile in amusement at the thought. A smile which widened further when the Shehzadi asked Riona, of all people, to be her dance partner. Unexpected, to be sure, but…

Just then, Riona felt herself pushed forward, she reached out instinctively to catch her balance. Her hands found purchase not on the floor but on Shehzadi Nahir. Her arms wrapped tightly around the other woman and her fingers clenched handfuls of delicate roses. Heart pounding, Riona realized she was clinging to the Saltun’s daughter in a most improper embrace.

A thousand and one worries should’ve flooded her in that panic-stricken moment: the impropriety of touching the Shehzadi so, how any harm to her could spark a diplomatic incident, and so much more. Yet, what worried Riona the most was damaging the exquisite garment. What if she ripped out the roses or tore the gown from its seams? Would she be able to sew it back together? If not, how many years of her salary would it take to compensate for the ruined dress? Or would they demand retribution and chop off her hands instead? F**k.

The weasel-man who accidentally bumped into her offered his apologies and, after ensuring that no one was injured, swiftly departed with his date. All the while Riona remained fixed in place, unable to trust herself to move without messing up something. Only guided by the Shehzadi’s steadying hands did Riona disentangle herself, inch by wary inch.

Her cheeks aflame, Riona said, “I am rather accident-prone tonight. A dance with me might cost you dearly—a toe, perhaps, or your dignity, should we tumble for all to see.” With a curtsy, she added, “Knowing this, will you brave such risks, my lady?”

Riona extended her hand. “If you dare, then the dance is yours, surprises and all.”

In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 5 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Peter
Time: Night
Location: Damien Estate Ballroom
Interaction(s): Persephone Olivia @Potter; Leon Lionheart @Helo; Pink lady @Rodiak

Peter’s chest puffed up like a balloon, pride and satisfaction fizzed within, as Olivia’s tension visibly eased. Each switcheroo he pulled off brightened her face, lighting it up with awe.

Eager to ride the momentum and end on a high note, Peter scanned the room for his next mark. A guy decked out in red and gold drew his attention. With the number of lion-themed accessories on him, you’d think he wanted to represent a whole Pride. The full-faced lion mask, tiny lion head cufflinks, and the most out-of-place (but also the most comfortable looking) lion slippers roared overcompensation. That or Leon Lionheart had a thing for lions.

A smirk curled his lip when he spotted the one anomaly in the man’s ensemble that didn’t roar: a sleek, un-lion-like pocket watch. Catching Olivia’s eye, he tapped his nose twice, pointed at his eyes, then flicked his gaze to the lion-man. Watch closely.

Peter smoothly closed the distance between him and Leon Lionheart, tracking the lion-man’s movements, the rhythm of his breathing, the sway of his posture. Timing was key. The second he got distracted, Peter slipped in. A quick flick and the watch was his, some other noble’s trinket in its place.

Job done. Now where to dump the loot? His eyes settled on two women, one swallowed in pink and the other in orange and gold. Guiding Olivia near them, Peter suddenly stopped and faced her. “A dance, m’lady?” Bowing deep, he rose with a wink. Play along, he mouthed.

When she accepted, Peter let out a dramatic sigh of relief, exclaiming, “Oh, you have no idea how—” His words broke off as he “accidentally” backed into the women. The bump was gentle, a fleeting contact, but either Orange was too plastered to stand or she was frail as a dried flower because that little bump sent Orange crashing into her pink friend.

A genuine “shit” escaped Peter and he reached out to catch her fall. Fortunately for all of them, Pink was made of sterner stuff than Orange. She steadied both herself and her friend before they tumbled onto the floor.

After some apologies and assurances that everyone was okay, Peter whisked Olivia away to the dance floor, leaving Leon Lionheart’s pocket watch dangling from the back of Orange’s golden waist piece.

As Peter assumed his position, he cleared his throat, shaking off the awkwardness. “And that,” he declared, “is how you do it.”

In the nick of time, too. A ripple of unrest was brewing among some of the guests. Most were just scratching their heads, puzzled at how in the world their stuff rearranged themselves. The handful who were the butt of Peter's swapping prank began to notice that they had something that wasn’t theirs. He savored the scene with no small amount of smugness. Then, he caught sight of Blue, the fife-wielding fighter, eyeing the crowd. A shiver of thrill raced through him. She looked like she was on the hunt.

In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 6 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix
Time: Evening
Location: Damien Estate’s Ballroom
Interaction(s): Mr. V @samreaper; Lady Charlotte Vikena @princess; Lord Leo Smithwood @Helo

“If possible, would you know where I could get ahold of a small pouch of gun powder?”

Ryn’s eyes widened at the request. Even a pinch of black powder could wreak havoc if mishandled. What mischief could Mr. V possibly have up his sleeve that required such a volatile substance? Before Ryn could inquire further, Lady Vikena approached. “Evening gentlemen. Having fun over here I hope?” The count inclined his head, a courteous bow, the antlers of his stag mask casting twisted shapes across the polished floor beneath their feet.

While Mr. V spoke, Ryn removed his spectacles and carefully swapped out the spent lens with a new one. With his enchanted eyewear back in place, Ryn scrutinized Lady Vikena’s magicae once more. Her natural hue and the unnatural presence that encased her—suffocating in its intensity—remained unchanged. For better or for worse, Ryn could not say. At the very least, Wayra’s reaction suggested that this was not a recent development.

A possibility struck him, Miss Delilah might’ve known about this. Not just her, but also—... He chewed his bottom lip, lost in contemplation. Could this be connected to the Vikena family’s current plight?

Ryn shifted his attention to Lord Smithwood, who stood at a distance. His magicae remained steady. The shadows still clung along the fringes, but their grip on him seemed to have weakened as the day wore on, appearing fainter than they had that morning.

“I see some seats over there,” the count remarked, gesturing toward an unoccupied corner of the ballroom. “Shall we?”

As they crossed the room, Ryn asked Mr. V in a hushed tone, “Do you intend to harm anyone?” He had to at least know that before he could consider handing the man black powder. Acknowledging Mr. V’s response with a subtle nod, Ryn continued on his path.

Waving in Lord Smithwood’s direction, Ryn indicated the corner and extended a silent invitation to join them if he wished. They were a team, after all. It would be remiss of Ryn to leave him out of their discussions.

Upon reaching the empty seats, he pulled out a chair for Lady Vikena and then another for Mr. V before realizing his misstep. Understanding the need to maintain Mr. V’s guise as a servant, he flashed an apologetic look and took the seat for himself.

Questions swirled within Ryn’s mind, many things to discuss and fill Lady Vikena in on—about the investigation, the items Ryn had left for her examination, his findings at the psychiatric institution, and far more besides. However, as Mr. V astutely pointed out, Lady Vikena’s “episode” took precedence. “It’s good to see you Lady Charlotte. I was beginning to worry that I somehow missed our very first CLF Detective Agency meeting. I hadn’t realized it would be quite so... clandestine.” He smiled, but concern was there. “How are you faring?”

In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 6 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Peter
Time: Night
Location: Damien Estate Ballroom
Interaction(s): Persephone Olivia @Potter

Even though she tried to hide it as best as she could, Peter got the sense Olivia was nervous as f**k. Might’ve been the way she clamped down on his hand hard enough to cut off circulation at the sight of C-Bert. Or how her big, anxious eyes peered up at him when asked, “Do you think he’ll recognize me?” Or heck, maybe it was the way she herded Peter around the room, giving C-Bert a wider berth than a country mile, her gaze darting back to keep tabs on his location every few seconds. That kind of attention could make a fella a wee bit jealous.

Peter eased Olivia’s chin his way till she was looking at him instead of C-Bert. He leaned in close, his lips just barely grazing her ear. “Keep avoiding him like that and he will,” he murmured. “You’ve gotta relax. He can smell fear. Only way to fool that nose is with brass.” As Peter straightened, he slid a steady hand around the dip of Olivia’s waist and gave what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

A fat lot of good that did. She was still coiled tight as a spring. He couldn’t really blame her, what with the gaggle of puffed-up nobles strutting about like they’re the cock of the walk. Their chatter was as shallow as their purses were deep, a relentless joust of who could piss higher up the wall. Flaunting baubles as if those alone proved their worth as people.

The garish light glinted off accessories cast mischievous sparks in Peter’s eyes. Then a grin sliced across his face as an idea brewed. He turned to Olivia. “Hey, watch this.”

Guiding Olivia through the sea of peacocks, Peter slipped into his own kind of dance as he relieved unsuspecting nobles of their fineries. He didn’t stop there, though. Oh no, he mixed it up, planting pilfered items on the wrong noble, or sneaking them back to their owners—but never where they expected. Was he showing off? Damn right. All to steal a smile from Olivia, push away her worries, and maybe even snatch a bit of admiration.

In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 6 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Ríoghnach "Riona"
Time: Night
Location: Damien Estate Ballroom
Interaction(s): Shehzadi Nahir @Rodiak

Riona drifted between groups, her ears perked for any scrap of conversation that might prove useful. She took a bitter pride in how easy it was to fade into the background. Years of being a maid ingrained stealth into her bones, but the thought of owing any of her skills to servitude soured in her mouth.

She shook the thought away. No more brooding. She was here on a mission, damn it. Riona squared her shoulders and stepped into the light, inserting herself into circles already mid-gossip. She listened close, interjecting where she could, mining each mundane exchange. Most discussions proved wanting, but Riona kept at it, sifting dross in search of gold—you never knew what little thing might turn out to be important. And, sometimes, she did catch pieces of promising intelligence the Thornbreakers would be interested in.

Which was great and all…

But Gods, these heels were killing her!

Pain gnawed, pinched, and nibbled away at her concentration; being a constant, nagging reminder she was out of place. Eventually, it became too much and Riona had to excuse herself. She retreated into the powder room where she yanked the shoes off and rubbed some life back into her poor, abused feet. There, she questioned every decision that led her to this point, mentally slapped herself for even thinking that, then got ready for round two.

Riona just returned to the ballroom when a burst of pink caught her eye. A bouquet of roses given human form approached, her filigree mask doing nothing to hide who she was: Shehzadi Nahir Aysun Ibn Raif Kadi. “Excuse me, my lady, what lovely dress you have there.”

Riona froze. Why did she approach her? The last time they crossed paths, Riona had been serving at the dinner hosted by the Sultan. After the drama that unfolded that night, she didn’t think the Shehzadi would’ve remembered Riona, much less recognize her.

Reflexively, her fingers flew up and traced the edges of the mask, which concealed the better part of her face. Assured that it was securely in place, she allowed herself a moment of relief.

“Trouble with the shoes?” asked Shehzadi Nahir, her voice like honeyed silk. “I wouldn’t want such a beauty to trip in the middle of a ball.” A flutter of nervousness stirred a mix of flattery and apprehension in Riona’s chest.

Riona’s gown, a burst of orange satin, made her feel empowered and exposed all at once. Its sweetheart neckline and golden accent piece that cinched waist drew the eye; the skirt’s asymmetrical hemline and low-cut back added a touch of daring. Detached sheer puff sleeves billowed from fitted gold bands at her mid-upper arms, then anchored at the wrists by bangles. Although Via’s skillful work hid her scars, Riona became conscious of them under the weight of the Shehzadi’s gaze.

“Thank you.” She took the offered hand to find her balance. This close, she detected subtle tells of ennui in the other woman. It could’ve just been her imagination, but she had seen that particular expression often enough. From experience, boredom among the nobility often spelled trouble for those less fortunate. Servants learned quickly to make themselves scarce until it passed. “Are you certain, my lady?” Riona asked, emboldened by the anonymity lent by masquerade masks. “You have the look of someone who’d welcome a mild diversion, even if it’s just ‘a beauty tripping in the middle of a ball.’”

In Avalia → 6 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay



Time: MORNING
Location: EXT. WOODS - RIVER PORT
Interactions/Mentions: The golden lion furry @Helo; The lady in a purple dress @Tae; The guy cosplaying as an elf @princess
Equipment:




Led by the kid, who navigated the forest like he had a GPS implant, Jun reached a river where they spotted some River Port locals. Jun rushed up and begged them to call an ambulance, but no matter how he phrased "call emergency services" —911, 999, 112, or 119—, they just stared back baffled.

It wasn't until Jun frantically explained that a lionman was gravely injured and in need of medical attention tout suite that the locals finally grasped the severity of the situation. They agreed to gather help to bring Zion to care, offering to take the kid too.

In the meantime, Jun needed water for Zion. Without any containers, he peeled off his shirt and soaked it up with as much water as the fabric could hold. Concerns about sanitation crossed his mind, but it had to be better than nothing.

Cradling the dripping bundle, Jun hotfooted back to where he left the others, only to find nobody there. Well, technically not "nobody" if you counted the giant spider carcasses. Everyone else—Malachi, purple lady, and most importantly Zion—vanished, leaving a half-naked loser standing alone in the woods with only the mangled arachnids for company.

Had they duped him? He doubted it—the raw terror and pain on Zion's face couldn't have been faked. Logic suggested the others carted Zion off for medical help the second Jun and the kid were out of eyeshot. The theory gave him some relief. But then a more chilling thought wormed its way in.

This LARPing community was even more unhinged than Jun realized. So hell-bent on preserving the illusion, they waited until Jun was gone to finally aid Zion when they had the option to quickly transport him any time. To them, fantasy eclipsed real harm. This crystallized Jun's growing fears about Avalia: the longer he stayed, the less likely he'd get back home in one piece.

Time to hit the road. Yesterday.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

Time: AFTERNOON
Location: INT./EXT. MAMA MALACHI'S SUMMERHOUSE - RIVER PORT
Interactions/Mentions: The golden lion furry @Helo; The lady in a purple dress @Tae; The guy cosplaying as an elf @princess
Equipment:




Jun grabbed his stuff and crammed what he could into his backpack. A canteen for water—check. Questionable map—check. All the bread totally-just-a-friendly-neighbor-who-can-hold-her-own-in-a-fight brought—double check. There were probably more useful things he should've packed if he just took a moment to think, but there wasn't time. He needed to go before they noticed he was alone.

He struggled into an old shirt and pair of pants he found in the house, reasoning they would help him blend into the crowds better than his "Earth" garb (not to mention his own shirt still needed time to dry). At least the cloak covered the worst of the bad fit.

Jun could've just legged it then, but his conscience needled him to compensate for the "borrowed" goods and broken picture frame. Unsure of the value or exchange rate, he left a mishmash of cash and amas on the table he hoped would cover the cost.

He scribbled a hasty note to Zion (saying "I hope you get better soon"), then crumpled the sentiment into a ball and tossed it into the bin. What a waste. Pity be to the trees sacrificed to make the paper.

It wasn't as if his good wishes could change what happened or heal the big guy any better or faster. Zion had plenty of well-wishers and medical staff helping him. Jun would make no difference—he made no difference.

An anxious double-check later, Jun slipped out into the afternoon sun.

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