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2 mos ago
Current No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp his style.
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3 mos ago
Today is my birthday! I wish you all a truly enchanted day!
19 likes
1 yr ago
Arguing over petty details at times of dimensional emergency was a familiar wizardly trait.
2 likes
1 yr ago
It's my birthday! I wish you all an excellent day!
18 likes
1 yr ago
A wizard never had friends, at least not friends who were wizards. It needed a different word. Ah yes, that was it. Enemies. But a very different class of enemies. Gentlemen.
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We're going on an adventure!


S i m b e l m y n ë


With the moon as her only companion, Simbel soared high above the roofs and chimneys of the town. She liked it up here, far above the troubles and hardships of the world. The night sky was silent, tranquil even. A sacred place, unlike the filthy streets below, with their smell and their ruckus. She needed time to think about all that had happened tonight. It was a lot to take in. Most of all, she wanted guidance, but Mother was not there to help her. Why had she abandoned Simbel like that? Why had she put her up for this task, with these people? None of it made sense. Simbel felt lost and lonely, far away from the comfort of the woods of her coven. She wondered what the other witches would have thought of this. Did they know? Simbel couldn’t tell.

She spotted a small grove a ways outside of the town, and flew over. It was a small place, no doubt set upon by hunters and loggers during the day, but it would serve her for the night. She found roots, berries and mushrooms to eat, and a small stream provided water. It had the tang of livestock to it, but Simbel could find no alternative and so was contended. The sounds and scents of the night descended on her like a comforting blanket, and she found herself at peace. A fox eyed her warily from a bush nearby, and when Simbel greeted it, it came to her for warmth and comfort. With the small animal in her lap, the witch pondered her next course of action.

She had decided upon holding her word to the group and would return to them in the morning. As much as she was suspicious of the entire affair, she wanted to see where the path would take her. It also seemed like the best way to find Mother, and for that she was almost desperate. There were too many uncertainties, though. She needed guidance. And Simbel knew where to find it.

The fox leaped from her lap as she stood. She gathered twigs and fallen branches for the fire, and prepared the runes around it just as she had been taught. Finally, she produced the small effigy of the Horned One and put it in the center of the pyre. With that, the preparations were done. Next came the summoning.

The sounds coming from Simbels mouth would have sent grown men scrambling in horror. The incantations were of the secret tongue of the Wilder, privy only to those initiated into the circle. As she finished the first passage, the pyre lit up with an otherworldly flame, bathing the grove in hues of azure, emerald, and amethyst. Simbel continued with the second passage, the fox observing her with curious eyes from under its bush. As the incantation came to an end, the flames went out as suddenly as they had appeared.

Now, she would wait for an answer.

It came creeping through the shadows, slithering in the wind, crawling at the edges of Simbels vision and in the back of her mind. She felt the tug, sudden and harsh, her eyes rolling. Then she fell to the ground, and all was black. In the darkness, she was carried by strong arms, caressed by sharp talons, to another place and another time. She saw herself, filthy and bewildered, hunched over in an alley, looking to and fro with eyes struck by paranoia. Her right hand was grasping something, the knuckles white from exertion.

They cannot have it, the Simbel that was not Simbel whispered to herself, Cannot see it, cannot touch it. Never! It is mine.

There was a nervous edge to her voice, a restless quiver, that felt unnatural and worrying. The Simbel looked down at her hand, slowly opening the fingers, revealing the object inside. It was an amulet, looking eerily like the token that Mother had left behind. Before Simbel could investigate further, the other Simbel closed her fist once more. She turned her head, and for a moment they were looking right at each other.

You cannot have it either, the Simbel said, baring her teeth in a snarl. Then the strong arms carried her away once more, leaving her deranged mirage behind in the darkness.

Simbel woke on the forest floor. The fox sat by her side, observing her. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. The vision was already becoming unfocused, but she remembered the message: there was something off about the amulet. The effigy was left, unscathed, in the remains of the fire. Simbel picked it up and placed it back where it belonged. A new day was dawning, and the time had come for her to return to the group. Whether she would tell them of her discovery, she had not yet decided. She bid the fox farewell and took flight once more, heading for the town.
Hoping to get my intro post done today, but I'm spending too much time messing around with how I want it formatted lmao


I know that feeling. I once had a teacher who used to say that the most important skill to a painter is knowing when to stop painting. Truer words have never been spoken.
Like I said, no rush. That said, I'm hyped! I've got a good feeling about this game 🙂
If you feel like you need any help with your intros, I'm happy to assist! Just ask away here in the thread, or send me a PM.
Add the item "Jumpsuit A037" to your characters Equipment.

The jumpsuit has a plastic, rubbery texture to it. It feels elastic, but durable. As it happens, it looks like it's just the right size for her. As she puts it on, she feels warm and slightly more secure. There's an unexplainable notion of familiarity about it, but she can't put her finger on why that is.

The red light continues pulsating. The domed room still contains two pods and their respective lockers, as well as the closed circular door with the dormant panel next to it.

What does she do next?

@Mole
The door creaked open, revealing an elderly lady dressed in a nightgown. She was carrying a lit candle, it's warm light illuminating the womans wrinkled features. She looked at Desmond from top to toe, taking him in, her face fixed in a somewhat stern but equally surprised grimace. Finally, she looked him square in the eyes, her brows slightly raised.

I must say, she said, That I'm quite perplexed as to why such a dashing young man such as yourself would be calling at my door this time of night. I would be inclined to take it as a compliment, albeit unexpected, were it not for my growing suspicion that I am not in fact the lady you're here to see. As much as this assessment disappoints me, I am still glad. The young lady upstairs has been entirely too unconcerned with courtships, as far as I'm concerned, and she could certainly do well to spend a little time with a strapping lad. Oh please, don't try to deny it, I'm not interested in appearances or other lies. Do come inside. I'll show you to her room.

The woman let Desmond in, guiding him upstairs. She stopped in front of a door and knocked on it. Without waiting for a reply, she opened the door and stood to the side.

You have a gentleman caller, my dear, she said, Now, I would have liked to have been informed of this prior to his knocking on my door, but we'll have that discussion in the morning. I will tolerate no secrets or skullduggery in this house. Well, I'm off to bed. I do not want to be disturbed. Good night.

Without further ado, she left the two of them there, disappearing down the hallway. A young woman, presumably miss Blakes, was sitting at a small desk in the room, staring at Desmond with wide eyes. She hadn't been able to speak while the whirlwind of a widow had passed by, and now she sat with her mouth slightly agape, still trying to catch up. Finally, she took a deep breath.

Who... she whispered, Who are... I mean, what are... Uh, to what do I owe the pleasure, mister...?

@CollectorOfMyst
Howe leaned back in his chair, hands clasped over his chest, as Alan explained his business at the factory. His eyes were focused on the professors, as if he was listening as much with his gaze as he was with his ears. When Alan was finished, Howe nodded politely and leaned back in towards the desk. The chair groaned as he shifted his weight. He spread his hands in acknowledgement of the professors hypothesis.

Yes, Sir, he said in that surprisingly feminine voice, I completely agree with your assessment. We've had the machines looked over ourselves, as have the constables, and have found no structural fault or obstruction. Although I can't see how the constabulary would be knowledgeable about the intricacies of engineering, my personel surely is, and if there were any material failing they would have found them.

There was a quick knock at the door, followed by an old man with a small catering cart. On the cart was a pot and two cups with matching saucers. The man discreetly rolled the cart up to the desk and poured coffee into the cups. He placed the cups in front of Howe and Alan, and was soon on his way once more.

Coffee, professor? Howe offered, I find that it helps with the night shifts. We get good beans here, courtesy of the company. It really is very good. And, personally, he continued, producing a small flask from inside his waistcoat, smiling, I like to add a little sting to the brew. I buy it from an exiled dwarf uptown. It's really good. Can I perhaps tempt the professor to try a drop or two?

With the coffe business sorted, Howe leaned back again holding the delicate cup and saucer in his big hands, sipping away at the hot drink.

I would be delighted if you would inspect the machine hall, professor. We've been waiting for an expert to come by, but the company isn't too keen on letting just anyone into the factory. Secrets of the trade and all that, you know. But they couldn't protest a thorough investigation from a man of science such as yourself. Whenever you're ready.

@TRES
@tundrafrog1124

1) Reclaim the Fist of Durin Hammerheld from the dragon in the faraway mountain.

2) Yes.

3) Thrillem has been buzzing with talk of the quest for quite some time. The elders have instructed our characters with vague directions to the mountain and a description of the weapon.

4) They were told by their clan, who probably nominated them in the first place.

5) Similar quests have taken place before, but this is the first attempt to reclaim the Fist.
There's no rush, take your time 🙂
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