For each (month, or quarter or whatever) everyone votes for the book they want the group to read together.
If it's not your cup of tea, skip that month.
Limit the number of books you can suggest each cycle (2 or 3 should be fine)
Elect a discussion leader (normally this is the person who suggested the book, but not always the case if they don't feel comfortable doing it) They are responsible for thinking up/research discussion points throughout the cycle.
That's it. Hit me with a mention if this thing gets going.
The Lord of the molten planet walked the web work of titan-metal bridges spanning the volcanic ravines of his domain. A black cloak flapped at his back in the thermal winds, and he carried a long, thin, cruel blade on his hip. Orange light cast strange shadows along the walkway, and gleamed across the runes engraved on the blade.
"Yori mu kravni il Xor."
"I am the sword of the Emperor," thought the Lord. Close at hand strolled his steward, a native of the fiery planet. It waddled beside his master, the trait of some cruel disfigurement inflicted upon him by the last Lord of the Planet, which he carefully concealed beneath dour robes. From his pointed ears hung a breathing apparatus that covered his churlish face. A single oculus of glowing red peared out beneath its' dark cowl.
The Lord wore a breathing apparatus as well, this one adorned with gold and platinum and carved in the likeness of a lampreys' jaws. Spiny teeth embossed on the mouthpiece gave the man a demonic appearance. "Come along Greely," said the Lord through his mask. The syllables he spoke were digitized, and rolled out of speakers concealed beneath the decorative lampreys' teeth in a rattling tone.
Nearby, the rocky ground cracked and a fissure of magma erupted a hundred feet into the air. To touch it was death. The Lord paused and extended his hand towards the fiery column. Greely paused just as he was about to collide with his master, and pulled from his robes a rectangular data pad with a slick glossy green glow. His fingers tapped expertly across the runes displayed.
"Forgive me, m'Lord. The eclipse is almost upon us. It may be wise to make a public appearance before the event. You know how superstitious the peasants can be," rasped the beast.
A hundred rivers of lava cut ravines across the heavily shadowed valley and gathered in immense lakes that extended for hundreds of miles. The Lords factories straddled these lakes and stole their heat to power his forges. The bulbous structures produced titan-metal through a carefully guarded process and were powered by cheap local labor.
"Much cheaper than artificials," thought the Lord.
As Darkstar to his Holiness, Emperor Reva Xem III, it was his duty to produce, profit and to pay taxes. Heavy taxes. For this, the Lord suffered the superstitions of his peasant workers. As long as he gave them leeway to perform whatever primitive rituals they required for peace of mind, the better they would perform in his factories.
"An eclipse you say Greely?" said the Lord through his breathing apparatus. He pulled the face mask free and breathed deeply the searing hot air of his dominion. White-hot tendrils of pain shrieked down his lungs. He coughed, and put the mask back on as tears gathered at his eyes.
"...four-hundred and seventy five years since the last triple eclipse, m'lord. I could record a simple broadcast if you wish to address your subjects. It may help to assuage any superstitions your subjects may hold about the eclipse. Prophets of doom and all that..." Greely bowed his head deeply as he spoke, not wishing to offend his prickly master.
The Lord raised a black gloved hand and the servant fell silent. Iron studs adorned the knuckles, and the servant knew at least two vibro-blades were concealed within-one for each hand. Maybe even an atomic-dart...
"Let them have their superstitions, Greely. I rather enjoy it. I wonder if they'll work up such a fervor as to initiate a panic-induced pogrom." said the Lord chuckling. His laughter chirped digitally through his breathing harness.
Greely cringed. "I certainly hope not, m'Lord. Production of titan-metal was down 7% last quarter and our workforce is still recovering from the last riots. An envoy from the Emperor is due to arrive at the morning meal. Our spies tell us the envoy does not bring kind words from the Emperor..."
Races of the Empire
Name (in color) Scientific Name Flavor Text Description
Phageons (Sanguiaphagia Dominus)
Who would have thought the mere by-product of an archaic bio-engineering protocol would evolve into their own species?
A race of humanoids that act as diplomats, spies, ambassadors, assassins and negotiators at every level of the bureaucratic hierarchy. They possess immensely powerful psychic abilities, and a preternatural insight bordering on precognition, skills that have made them indispensable to the empire despite their monstrous appearance and barbaric customs. They are greatly mistrusted, feared and hated by the common citizen of the Empire.
They are also effectively immortal.
In the earliest eras of the Empires founding, the scientist-sorcerers of the day still fiddled with the preposterous notions of immortality, and after countless centuries of tinkering and meddling with the nature of nature itself, they created the phageons. Hailed as a scientific leap forward in the realm of empathic research, yet discarded for their biological limitations, the phageon project was halted almost immediately after it began (probably due to a reshuffling of resources to fight one of the countless wars of the early eras of Empire). However, an isolated colony of the species survived the immolation of the purge-squads and so began a self-imposed path of evolution that continues to this day.
Whatever door to immortality was unlocked within the phageons biology also holds the species downfall. Without the continuous consumption of blood, a phageons biological functions begin to deteriorate rapidly. Some phageon approach this problem clinically, through complicated blood transfusion operations while others prefer a more...primal approach to their disposition. Ancient folklore has turned the layman and ignoramus against them, the common folk insisting they are demons or monsters. To them, the Phageon are simply 'darklings', (a colloquial term meaning demon or monster), a creature to be mistrusted, hunted, or even killed.
A sparkling mist formed at the feet of the companions gathered at the catacombs entrance as they pondered their next course of action. The goal was not yet clear-yet the path was apparent. The quiet of the earliest morning slipped in like a stealthy knife, even the churning waters of the subterranean Woad were momentarily hushed. Even the short chortling scream that had broken the banter of the meeting fell suddenly silent. Before them were the steps leading to whatever lay ahead.
"Ssso, who's firsst?"
The stairwell steps were lit only by the light of small glass orbs the size of apples containing tiny fish-like creatures. The fish twisted and turned in their sphere glass cages, and their struggle to escape cause tiny rays of warm vibrating light to shine through. Some of the orbs appear to be loose in their slots and could easily be removed with a small knife or a good tug. The stairs are even planed, sturdy and made of stone. The mist ends abruptly at the doorway.
The stairs ended at a landing, coiled in darkness. From the landing are a dozen corridors that lead to further chambers and hallways occupied only by the dead. All of the torches have been extinguished. Above each stone arched doorway are crests and icons, symbols and mottoes. Here one reads, "Tedious, But Brief". Another holds a symbol representing a moon, broken by the rays of a stylized sun. Still above another appeared the words, "Night, Shortly." The largest stone archway leads down a slowly descending corridor. Above this doorway is the sign of the Unblinking Eye. It leads to a well lit room, much larger than the others and occupied only by an enormous circular doorway, locked with a pre-Obliteration hatch-wheel.
The girl could feel the coin begin to warm quickly on her persons. She pulls it from the folds of her clothes and holds it loosely in the palm of her hand. The metal shakes and vibrates impossibly, rippling with what could only be magic. The eye, before unblinking and motionless, droops and begins to close slowly, the metal suddenly vivified...
(At the stairwell landing below) The warrior blinks in the dim light of the catacomb entrance, inspecting each hallway carefully. He notices small tracks in the dust, bare-feet moving with haste through the area. A struggle has occurred. He cannot determine how many, (or what type of creature) were involved, but most interesting are that one pair of tracks stops suddenly, and appears to be dragged back into the catacombs. A small baton lays in the corner of the room, with a broken glass orb on top. A string of fishhooks lays close to this.
I fear @Polybius may have had a bit of trouble with that internet installation. Hope your new place is awesome, at least! x3
We made it! Verizon guy was super nice. Finally, reconnected to the world (I guess that's a good thing!) I don't carry a phone with me for the most part... Anyways, I'll take a little time today to get caught up with everyones posts. Thank you all for sticking around.
You guys have probably noticed I've been away, apologies. I've been moving all last week and the new place will not have internet until the first week of May. Stay with me guys! EDIT derp. You guys have been posting. I'll get caught up :)
Someone is assassinating wizards in the kingdom of Bapha. Furthermore, the Queen has taken ill and the Church, under the guidance of Grimalken has accused Witherfinger, the court sorcerer. He has fled to gods knows where. You play as a fledgling wizard fleeing the wrath of the Church.
Magic:
"We are but the dreams of the Universe" Magic users in the Kingdom of Bapha are called Vocifers. They use secret words, chants and manipulate icons and totems to achieve a desired magical effect. The source of the Vocifers' power are the dreams of slumbering celestial beings called Eidelons.
use chants and magic words to manipulate the dreams of sleeping celestial beings far below the earth. These dreams may manifest however the vocifer see's fit with the caveat that the power may never directly harm a living creature.
I'd like to limit collaborative posts to 2 players and only when you guys are in a non-combat scene. Ok with everyone?
@PrivateVentures Yeah that's been one of the challenges I'm facing. It's a fun exercise in writing trying to play a "mute" character. Besides that, I also think I missed the fact that Dali duplicated himself which would have made Gru react very differently to the situation.
I think Gru should reveal himself as being quite capable of conversation, for the sake of clarity in the roleplay. I can write in a magical solution to this problem if you wish.
@Gunther Thanks for the write up on the collaboration, would you mind posting what we have up until now?
Bugman
Ladypug
Vampiretwilight
