I just wanna come up in and brag about @Borre's story telling ability. Eleusis you lost, we won by getting this one. I removed punished person's name, no its not who you think it is, cause I don't want this to be a 'rawr lets start sh**' sort of thing. Just wanna sweet brag on a great RP effort of telling a super simple story well.
Kiet says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "You missed the public execution, those are a time-honored tradition."
You say to Kiet in Mhaldorian with an icy, old Hashani accent, "I am always saddened to miss tradition."
You say to Borre in Mhaldorian with an icy, old Hashani accent, "Perhaps I can get a retelling then."
Kiet says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "Yes."
Borre inclines his head politely at you.
Kiet says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "You're an Aspirant of Elocution."
Kiet says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "Start elocuting."
Borre says in Mhaldorian with a lilting, rustic accent, "Several of the citizenry of His city stood upon the fabled Red Square of Mhaldor, called forth by Insid'arai Kiet."
Hataru tilts her head as she listens intently.
Borre says in Mhaldorian with a lilting, rustic accent, "Striding forth before the crowd, the Archai stated that the gathering was to enact upon the public a remind, most recently announced by the Warden."
Kiet tilts his head and listens intently.
Borre says in Mhaldorian with a lilting, rustic accent, "Laxity had come to the city, but not one of strength or mental fortitude, but of respect and discipline."
Borre says in Mhaldorian with a lilting, rustic accent, "The first such to be called to account for his laxity was [PERSON], who had committed the crime of not only disrecpecting the Scourge in a loud manner, but implying that he knew better than her, her duties and obligations as the Ambassador of His city."
Borre says in Mhaldorian with a lilting, rustic accent, "The [PERSON] at first was reticent about his actions, but quickly came to realize that his fate was sealed."
Borre says in Mhaldorian with a lilting, rustic accent, "The punishment of the vat was chosen, and the assemblage moved to the southern quarter of the Square to take witness."
Borre says in Mhaldorian with a lilting, rustic accent, "Theoren strode forth, the criminal in tow, trussed and bound like like a pig for the slaughter."
Borre says in Mhaldorian with a lilting, rustic accent, "With a great heave, the Executioner cast him into the vat, where his cries quickly rose to a crescendo, before ending in a burble."
Borre says in Mhaldorian with a lilting, rustic accent, "Thus is the fate of those that disobey, spoke Insid'ari Kiet."
Borre says in Mhaldorian with a lilting, rustic accent, "With that, he dismissed those in attendance."
Kiet nods his head emphatically.
Kiet says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "Very eloquent."
Hataru smirks widely, "Well, I am a bit sad I missed it - you are quite the storyteller, Aspirant."
Borre says in Mhaldorian with a lilting, rustic accent, "One tries, Scourge, as one hopes to one day have the power to sweep the heaten thoughts from the minds of the masses, should they prove worthy."
The corners of Taryius's mouth turn up as he grins mischievously.
(Mhaldor's Next Top Model): Melodie says, "Get rekt scrubbbbb."
(Mhaldor's Next Top Model): You say, "Scrubbbssss."
(Mhaldor's Next Top Model): Trey says, "Austere was hangin' out the passenger side of his best friend's ride, apparently."
Some backstory as to what happened in this two-hour event:
The Nithilar family claims dominion over a number of small villages in the area, protecting them in return for tithes. However, as the family grows smaller with dormancies, there's been talk of mercenary raids and rebellion. It was decided to host a gala to find out who the people behind the rebellion were, but the family got more than they expected (shameless clickbait title).
I want to say that only about 10% of this was prepared beforehand, and @Seortiae, @Ysela and @Stheno had no idea of what was going to happen, so everything you see from them was done off the cuff. What isn't obvious in the log are the many times that @Crixos and @Chiam had to cover for me when I dc'd. I'm not going to reveal all of the magic behind how we did what we did, but it's not too hard to figure out.
Things didn't quite go to plan as I dc'd a lot (initially we were supposed to visit the denizens one by one) and there were a lot of funny mishaps, like when Seortiae got attacked by all the npcs due to loyalty issues. But for the purposes of storytelling, here is the edited version. Achaea is all about great stories, so don't be afraid to try and make them happen, even if you're not sure how it will turn out.
The log is from Crixos' POV. It doesn't have everything, as he wasn't part of some interactions, but perhaps it's better this way too.
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A nostalgia log that I've debated for awhile whether to share or not because it was quite personal. In April of 2017, my character decided to join Mhaldor after spending her life as a priest turned wandering rogue. Long story short, she was given the task of Cruelty by her sponsor Melodie and decided to enact it on her former priest mentor:
Almost eight IG years after the event happened, she received a farewell letter.
13th of Scarlatan,
747 AF
Shayde,
I realize you may
know everything and my input may be scrutinized by
your ever
disbelieving eye. Withal, in the off chance that something I
say rings true for
you, I am going to give my last good-bye a try.
In my seventy-five
years, the most notable of my proteges was you.
Bright and driven,
you were born to skirt many of the rules that tie the
hands of moralistic
individuals. I understand because of this we
struggled throughout
our relationship. I was not easy on you, but I do
not ask for your
clemency. It was my joy to continue to push you towards
the edge. I do not
regret this.
My only regret lies
in my absence when I should have helped you stick to
your resolve. When
you were fooled, persuaded, and tempted into straying
towards the path of
least resistance. Your growth faltered because of
complacency, fueled
by your addictive personality. I was angry with
myself and I could
not get over the fact I failed you. Until now.
After some years my
angered subsided and my guilt ebbed, I saw the
person I first fell
in love with. You have come full circle, Shayde, and
I am, regrettably,
proud to see what you have become within the city of Evil. You are
surrounded by people
such as my father that can help. Continue to accept it.
All I have wished in
life was for you to put your growth and development
first, not wasting
it on meaningless drudgery meant for the dredges of
society. While it is
important to always take time to enjoy life, you
are much more than a
simple doll to be tossed around.
Promise me in my
retirement you will not grow complacent. There are
always long-term
repercussions to every action, thought, and word. Be
conscious and
selective.
May Light lead you
home,
Tristyn Wintermourne
After receiving such a letter, she gained help from Talamond to fetch her mentor's written work so she could give it to Aodfionn. This was his response:
23rd of Valnuary,
747 AF
Phantom,
You may or may not
be capable of understanding the depth of meaning that
accompanied your
last missive. There are no words in common to
sufficiently
appreciate that effort. There are likely no words in Troll,
Breathrain and
all, it was a fun moment! This is the
dance interrupted and the music was set to Danse Macabre. It took me awhile to
write out the music into text form, but hope you all like it.
Gliding
to the center of the room, Cooper smiles joyfully as he eyes those
standing before him. He motions slowly to the Raven.
Cooper
says,
“We will have the first dance of the evening, the rest of you may
join as we finish.”
Shayde
considers Cooper behind her raven disguise and nods courteously
before moving to join him in the center of the room.
Rising
up from the silence, the music opens with the
strains of a harp drifting upwards, urgently chiming a single note
several times, before accompanied by the soft chords of the strings
section.
Bracelets
clinking together, Cooper raises his arm and offers his hand to you.
Shayde
drops into an elegant curtsy, green eyes glinting devilishly behind
her mask, before accepting Cooper's hand and awaiting his lead.
Influenced
by the silken call from the harp, the solo violin
leisurely tunes itself, fabricating a haunting chord from the bow and
strings.
After
which an unaccompanied flute strikes up a vibrant melody, which is
then countered by the strings section.
Cooper
places his hand on the small of Shayde's back, holding firmly, his
other hand, guiding the way as they begin their dance.
Shayde
places her free hand upon Cooper's shoulder, following along, as her
flashy, gold high heels seek each floor tile with ease and expertise.
It
is followed by the quiet, skeletal strings of the violin with a
lilting waltz tune, played twice and briefly intersected by the
returning flute with an additional thrumming of the percussion.
The
entire orchestra seamlessly joins in a descending scale until it
breaks off into the solo violin and harp fervently alternating the
scale, presaging a haunting dance in the woodwinds.
Sliding
his hand lower, Cooper twirls the two in a quick circle before
leaning you back in a dangerously low dip.
Shayde
appears to be momentarily startled by dip as her dark wings extend
and brush the floor beneath them. Regaining her composure, she smiles
up at Cooper while her fingers grip a little more securely at his
shoulder.
The
passage increases steadily and becomes more spirited as the strings
and percussion plays with strong crescendos.
They
are matched by horns and xylophone accents, intruding into the
peaceful melody and heralding anxiety.
Sensing
your fear of falling, Cooper lifts you gently and presses their
bodies firmly together while moving elegantly to the music.
Shayde
catches Cooper's gaze, lips parting in a musing smile at the close
proximity, while the violins quickened their haunting pace around
them. She allowed herself to be led once more into the graceful
waltz, her heels still clicking musically on the ground.
Abruptly
interposing, the resigned notes of an oboe cries out as the
environment promptly shifts directions.
The
tempo swells and softens as the violin plays a lamenting tune,
eventually joined for one last statement by the full orchestra
in a dissonant clash, trumpet holding on the high note, matched by
more horns.
The
two now moving much more slowly, Cooper motions to the rest of the
crowd to join them, while staring straight into your eyes.
(long
emotes from other dancers go here)
The
final section, piano and strings swing hypnotically from ominous
warning to domestic tranquility, eventually tapering off to the
conclusion of the piece.
The music was wonderfully composed, Maestra @Shayde. Everything about the ball was wonderful and spooky, and I'm glad we had it in the graveyard. Props to @Hataru and @Alrena for being suitably disgusted by all the dancing.
We had waltzes, a tango, and classic swaying, but @Nylian spoke for us all.
For those who have asked, this was my costume! It was someone from Mhaldor, who also was at the ball. It was pretty fun.
He is a human. He
masquerades as a siren, his face as still and calm as a mask of death. The wave
of
his ash-blonde hair breaks over his right shoulder, coiffed into something like
obedience with a
sweet-smelling oil, while a few strands are braided along his scalp with
military tightness. His
left shoulder is branded with a raised, eight-spoked wheel, as if embroidered
by hand: the property
of Evil. The striking pallor of his complexion seems to glow from within,
freckles dusting his
cheeks like a cup of tipped stars. Here and there, fine golden scales are
plated in a second skin,
conforming to the lines and curves of his slim body. He walks with artistry,
each step balanced by
the length of her spine, often stopping and swaying to some inaudible rhythm.
Beneath his dark
eyelashes, his eyes are the orange-red of rust, bleeding out from the bottom of
a sunken ship. His
pupils are slit in the light.
He is wearing:
a stunningly beautiful silk and black
lace gown, black velvet spinal column high-heeled shoes, a
bronze Ring of Iniquity, a crackling ring of polished hematite, a gold anklet
of ruby rosebuds,
dotted with dew, a gold anklet of ruby rosebuds, dotted with dew, a golden ring
depicting a coiled
serpent, a golden ring depicting a coiled serpent, a black velvet choker set
with a cobalt sapphire,
and a bright coppery chrysanthemum haircomb.
Containers:
a wyrmskin pack and a
cormorant-feathered knapsack.
Jewellery:
a filigree bell earring through your
left ear and a filigree bell earring through your right ear.
Misc:
the shackle of the Tyrannus and black
eyeliner.
@Cooper slaps a regal golden charger on the haunches and he sidles over to nuzzle you. You are now the proud owner of a regal golden charger!
@Zackery pets a regal golden charger very nicely. A regal golden charger dances delightfully. You clap your hands together merrily. You say to Zackery in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "See that he's still dancing when I return, Purifier." You say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "A moment." Zackery nods. Purifier Zackery Aristata says to a regal golden charger in Mhaldorian, "Dance, beast. Dance."
Zackery pets a regal golden charger very nicely. Purifier Zackery Aristata looks surprised and says in Mhaldorian, "He stopped dancing." Zackery pets a regal golden charger very nicely. Purifier Zackery Aristata says to you in Mhaldorian, "I've broken your horse."
You point accusingly at a regal golden charger. Insid'ari @Kiet Aristata al-Azhan looks surprised and says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "A pony." You pet a regal golden charger very nicely. You say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "A pony." You say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "He was dancing before." You purse your lips, deep in thought as you contemplate a regal golden charger. Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "What, the pony?" Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "Ponies don't dance, silly." You say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "He was!" You say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "He danced for the Purifier, all shining hooves." Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "Have you been drinking?" You frown and say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "No." You whisper in a regal golden charger's ear. You can't seem to convey your mental message to that denizen. You shake your head. Kiet gives you the once-over, eyeing you suspiciously. Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "Ponies don't dance!"
You stare in intent contemplation of a regal golden charger. Kiet tilts his head curiously. Kiet pets a regal golden charger ingratiatingly. You pet a regal golden charger very nicely. You say angrily to Kiet in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "You touched him too soon." "Wow!" Kiet exclaims. You say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "Now he won't dance."
You say imperiously to a skeletal steed in a sibilant voice, "You will learn to dance, as your golden brother does." You pet a skeletal steed very nicely. A skeletal steed dances delightfully. You say in a sibilant voice, "Good." The corners of @Skye's mouth turn up as she grins mischievously. @Melodie Le'Murzen, Lady Mercantile laughingly says with a flowing, cultured accent, "Dancing ponies." You say in a sibilant voice, "I should open a circus." You crack your whip demonstratively, sending a few blank letters fluttering to the ground.
Kiet's voice quietly thrums in your mind as he tells you, "I've kidnapped your ponies." You sadly tell Kiet in Mhaldorian, "But I was just learning to care for them." Kiet's voice quietly thrums in your mind as he tells you, "They're dancing for me now. Together." Kiet's voice quietly thrums in your mind as he tells you, "Waltzing." You softly tell Kiet in Mhaldorian, "No." You tell Kiet in Mhaldorian, "You're lying!" Kiet's voice quietly thrums in your mind as he tells you, "How can you know?" You tell Kiet in Mhaldorian, "I know when you're lying." Kiet's voice quietly thrums in your mind as he tells you, "But are you sure? What if they really are dancing, and you're missing it?" You softly tell Kiet in Mhaldorian, "Please." Kiet's voice quietly thrums in your mind as he tells you, "You're right, ponies don't dance."
You pet a regal golden charger very nicely. You pet a skeletal steed very nicely. Kiet shakes his head sadly from side to side. A deep crease forms across your forehead as you furrow your brow. You whisper in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "What's the secret?" Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "I'll have to find a healer for your hallucinations." You give a pained sigh. You say hesitantly in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "Maybe." Kiet nods his head emphatically. Kiet pats you in a friendly manner. You pet a regal golden charger very nicely. You pet a regal golden charger very nicely. You pet a regal golden charger very nicely.
You pet a regal golden charger very nicely. A regal golden charger dances delightfully. You give a horrified gasp. You point accusingly at a regal golden charger. "Wow!" Kiet exclaims. Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan looks sceptical and says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "Are you using illusions?" You exclaim to Kiet in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "I told you!" You shake your head. Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "Deceitful." A regal golden charger turns to face you, then winks.
Reaching down with a massive hand, Sartan lifts your head and draws a taloned finger across your throat, the wound closing as He does so.
Since forums is glitching out and I can't write things at the bottom of posts.
Big thanks to @Jurixe for getting Ritual Dueling established. It's been great fun, and we managed to show it off at the Cyrene Centennial! Thanks everyone for attending and of course to @Salisa and @Voc for stepping up to be first time duelists!
So the year 757 marks 100 years for the Cyrenian houses post renaissance and we have had a ton of events this year. Ended it with a ball and a collaboration between the Outriders, Shield, and Virtuosi. Shout out to @Shirszae@Laedha and @Keorin for going along with this idea, and helping out with this totally-not-rushed plan.
Cascading swiftly through a skylight high above, a mighty mountain river hurtles off a ledge as it plunges into a wide lake within the cavern. Light streams in through the opening, sparkling off the small waterfall and bathing the surroundings in a soft glow. Mossy greenery carpets the rocks and boulders as leafy ferns and spindly trees strain towards the sunlight. A massive log bridges the banks of the lake, periodically obscured by the spray churned up from the thunderous waters. The sound of rushing water fills the air, punctuated by occasional birdsong. A timberwolf pauses here, gazing dispassionately with atramentous eyes. A Baalzadeen demon towers over you, filling you with dread. An oversized turkey awkwardly wobbles around and about on slender limbs. Antlers of jet black crown the head of a proud ivory peryton.
You see a single exit leading north.
Jurixe says in a low, silken voice, "I will double as Arbiter for this round, but I pledge to be fair."
Jurixe says in a low, silken voice, "What class will you duel as?"
Vender spins his dirk lazily upon his palm before secreting it within his sleeve.
Vender says with an eastern accent, "Serpent."
Tasuu takes a seat on the ground, petting a suicide mouse nestled within her bosom.
Faint amusement gleams in Jurixe's grey eyes.
Jurixe says in a low, silken voice, "An even match, then. Very well."
Jurixe says in a low, silken voice, "It is customary for the Arbiter to begin with a coin toss."
Jurixe asks Vender in a low, silken voice, "Heads or tails?"
Vender says with an eastern accent, "Heads."
Using her wrist cleverly, Jurixe flips a golden sovereign up into the air. You watch, mesmerised, as it spins rapidly through its arc. It hits the ground and you see that the tails side is facing up.
Vender says with an eastern accent, "No wait TAILS."
Vender snaps his fingers.
Jurixe says wryly in a low, silken voice, "Too late. I will begin first."
Jurixe says in a low, silken voice, "Take your place on the opposite bank of the lake."
Jurixe says in a low, silken voice, "The rest of you, be seated away from the line of fire."
Jurixe looks around at the plantlife around her.
Jurixe says in a low, silken voice, "Or wherever you wish to stand, if you like."
Vender walks over towards the massive log that bridges the banks of the lake.
For her own part, Jurixe positions herself at the other end, facing Vender.
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "For the thrill of battle!"
Vender says with an eastern accent, "And the rush of challenge."
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "May the best duelist win."
The shadows in the area streak towards Jurixe as she makes a few complicated gestures, shrouding herself in layer upon layer of darkness until she vanishes from sight.
Vender reaches into his sleeve and produces a small powder filled round object. He conjures a ghastly image about himself and throws the smokebomb on the ground, disappearing into the mists.
Jurixe says in a disembodied voice, "Both duelists choose to defend for the first round. The score is a tie."
Jurixe says in a disembodied voice, "Duelist Vender begins the next round."
Vender appears high above the mists, dirk in both hands pointing downwards towards Jurixe.
At the same time, Jurixe bursts from the shadows, hurtling towards Vender's last known position in a powerful backstab. Finding no one there, her momentum carries her into a somersault and she springs up, unhurt but frustrated.
Jurixe says in a disembodied voice, "Another tie, with both duelists opting for a power attack. Final round."
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "I will begin first."
Looking up and noticing Vender in the sky, Jurixe begins to weave back and forth rapidly, beginning a zig-zag run over the slippery log.
Vender takes his whip and tries to lash Jurixe with it but fails to hit her due to her quick movements.
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "That is a point for myself, as I defended against Duelist Vender's attack. The round, and the duel, are mine."
Jurixe comes to a stop at the end of the log, turning to offer Vender a bow.
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[spoiler]Ellodin begins to wield a Crook of Ovine Mastery in his left hand.
Jurixe asks in a loud voice, "What classes will you both duel as?"
Ellodin says in a quiet but clear voice, "Shepherd."
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Um."
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Mouse master."
Tasuu nods her head at a suicide mouse.
The roar of the waterfall nearly drowns out Jurixe's voice despite her best efforts, so she offers both only a bemused frown, then a shrug and a nod.
Jurixe asks in a loud voice, "Very well. Heads or tails?"
Ellodin says in a quiet but clear voice, "Would you like to choose?"
Tasuu nods her head emphatically.
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Tails, naturally."
Tasuu pets a suicide mouse.
Using her wrist cleverly, Jurixe flips a golden sovereign up into the air. You watch, mesmerised, as it spins rapidly through its arc. It hits the ground and you see that the tails side is facing up.
Jurixe asks in a loud voice, "Your choice, Duelist Tasuu. Who begins first?"
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Mister Rahal can."
Jurixe nods her dark head slightly.
Ellodin stretches, his movements laboured like an old man's.
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Duelists, take your positions."
Ellodin hobbles over to a log, testing it with his foot. He nods.
Tasuu saunters a few feet away from Ellodin, standing in front of him as her suicide mouse scrambles up her left shoulder.
Ellodin smiles as he observes Tasuu's mouse.
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "For the thrill of battle."
Ellodin says in a quiet but clear voice, "And the rush of challenge."
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "May the best duelist win!"
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Begin when ready."
Ellodin whistles a jaunty tune, squinting up at the waterfall for a moment. Suddenly, he glares angrily at Tasuu. Removing one of his sandals, he throws it at her and coughs a warcry that sounds strangely like "whippersnapper!"
Tasuu nods to her suicide mouse, barking an order for it to defend her. Her mouse climbs over her face, making her stagger backwards in confusion, somehow completely dodging the thrown sandal.
Jurixe watches the duel with some bemusement.
Tasuu frowns at a suicide mouse.
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "The point goes to Duelist Tasuu, successfully defending against a...well-heeled attack."
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Next round. Duelist Tasuu begins."
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Begin when ready."
Vender slaps his thighs and guffaws like an old man.
Tasuu's eyes narrow in concentration and she points a finger at Ellodin. "Quick attack," she commands, and the suicide mouse drops from her shoulder, zipping side to side on its way to Ellodin for its assault.
Ellodin leans forward and attempts to hook Tasuu's ankle with his crook, but he's stymied by the distraction of the mouse. Foiled, he slips on the moss and falls flat on his face.
On the other side of the lake, Jurixe's bemused expression intensifies.
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Uh...Duelist Tasuu's attack disrupts Duelist Ellodin's attempt at a power attack."
Tasuu pets a suicide mouse ingratiatingly.
Vender says with an eastern accent, ".. power attack .."
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Two points to Duelist Tasuu. Duelist Ellodin begins the last round."
Vender snickers softly to himself.
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Begin when ready."
Wincing, Ellodin braces himself on the crook and begins rising to his feet. Alarmed by the continued presence of the little mouse, he shies away from Tasuu and begins slapping at the ground with his remaining sandal.
"Evasive maneuvers!" Tasuu barks loudly. The mouse needs no orders however, already scurrying to and fro from the clumsy sandal attacks before sprinting towards its master, climbing on top of her shoulder.
Jurixe glances at Vender in bemusement, then shrugs her shoulders in a slight gesture.
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Both duelists decide to defend, so it is a draw."
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "The...admittedly very strange duel...goes to Duelist Tasuu."
Tasuu looks surprised and says in a mellow, subdued voice, "We did it."
Tasuu pets a suicide mouse ingratiatingly.
Jurixe says bemusedly in a loud voice, "Well...fought, duelists."
Ellodin bows to Tasuu, his movements back to normal. He runs forward to grab his fallen sandal before returning to the outskirts of the area.
With a practiced motion, Tasuu bows to Ellodin.[/spoiler]
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@Crixos vs @Rom (I enjoyed this duel a lot! Spoiler tags broke and I can't figure out how to fix them so apologies for length)
Rom rushes forward into the dueling space, before raising his pointed finger towards Crixos.
Rom says in Mhaldorian, "My class is Jester."
Crixos raises an eyebrow questioningly.
Jurixe arches a dark eyebrow in surprise, before glancing at you.
Crixos says, "Very well."
Placing your hand upon the ground, you reach out with your attuned senses to feel the lifeblood of the earth surging deep below, its radiance glowing bright in your mind's eye.
With a determined glint, you seize upon your spiritual tether to the elemental plane of Earth, the ground beneath you shuddering in response. Your blood begins to boil, the fraility of your mortal form struggling to contain the raw power surging within the strata below.
A blinding surge of light envelops your form, scouring away your feeble flesh and bone in a deluge of grinding stone and grit, the weight of Garash's legacy subsuming the weakness of your ancestral birthright.
As the earth rises to clad your growing form in a skin of stone, you scream out in triumph, the very blood of Earth surging through your granite veins. By the will of Garash, Earth is yours to command!
A faint quirk of her lips is the only expression of Jurixe's approval, before she glances again towards the main stage.
Crixos wrinkles his nose and sniffs.
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Heads or tails, duelists?"
Crixos walks awkwardly into the arena leaving pebbles and rocks in his wake.
Rom says, "Heads."
Rom says, "Will roll."
Rom points accusingly at Crixos.
Using her wrist cleverly, Jurixe flips a golden sovereign up into the air. You watch, mesmerised, as it spins rapidly through its arc. It hits the ground and you see that the tails side is facing up.
Crixos says, "Tails is for certain."
Crixos nods his head emphatically.
Vender says with an eastern accent, "Hopefully not eyes too."
Vender rolls his eyes.
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Apparently heads will not roll. Who do you wish to begin first?"
Vender says with an eastern accent, "Let's make this a good one!"
Crixos says, "Rom will begin first."
Tasuu winces at Vender's words.
Jurixe nods her dark head slightly.
Rom says, "Forgive me as I have not dueled in literal years, and I am inept in all things Jester."
Crixos says, "Or attempt to do so."
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Let us make this interesting."
Rom says, "For the thrill of battle!"
Rom narrows his eyes at Crixos in an unnerving manner.
Crixos says, "And the rush of challenge."
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "May the best duelist win!"
Rom says, "This is my foe?"
Rom cackles hellishly.
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Begin when ready."
Rom nods his head affirmatively.
Rom rushes towards his opponent before ducking into a beautiful handspring. He sails through the air before landing short and reaching deep into his pack. From his pack he quickly reveals a fistful of banana peels, which he launches with a heave towards Crixos, landing all around his feet.
Crixos turns around slowly the peels appearing ineffective for against his immense form. He finds himself a large, wooden branch and with small effort he throws it at acrobatic form of Rom hitting him square in the leg.
Ellodin leans towards Tasuu and lowers his voice as he asks, "Does he really eat that many bananas? How healthy!"
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Duelist Rom's defense does not seem effective against Duelist Crixos' power attack, and he is struck instead."
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "The first point goes to Duelist Crixos. He begins the next round."
Vender says to Ellodin with an eastern accent, "Good to see Crixos branching out."
Ellodin nods to Vender.
Tasuu nods quietly at Ellodin.
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Begin when ready."
Ellodin says in a quiet but clear voice, "Style points for ruining the arena for all future participants."
Crixos laughs lowly his stone form shuddering with every bellow. Surrounded by the pesky bananas, he curls up into as small a ball as his earthen form can handle - he ends up looking simply like a large boulder in the middle of the forest.
Rom ponders Crixos with a contemplative expression.
Rom says, "Easy."
Rom smirks.
Rom slowly saunters up to the faux boulder, before revealing a remarkably inscribed card of Death. He lazily rubs it across Crixos' lazy form seven times. A goading laugh arises from him as the card is flung before his foe, bringing upon the avatar of Death itself to strike him.
Vender attempts to stifle his amusement but cannot help laughing aloud.
Ellodin's eyes boggle at the completely inert Crixos.
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Duelist Rom's power attack...er, overpowers Duelist Crixos' defense."
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "They are tied. The next round begins with Duelist Rom."
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Begin when ready."
Rom nods his head affirmatively.
Rom suddenly realizes his summoned ally has faded from the dueling area. Upon this revelation, he turns tail and sprints away from Crixos. As he runs, dust and smoke bombs spill from his pockets, littering his escape with debris. Once satisfied with the coverage, he stops and pants, staring into the field of smoke where his opponent waits.
Pebbles and stone begin to erode from Crixos' form as he stands, barely able to fend off Death but the damage is clear. As Rom pollutes the arena with his bombs and gasses obscuring the area, the form of Crixos disappears. The sound of grating and coughing can be heard and before long the smoke clears leaving only the battered hunk of stone - the former earth elemental - in its wake.
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "Duelist Rom's defense is effective against Duelist Crixos' attack."
Jurixe says in a loud voice, "The round, and the duel, belongs to Duelist Rom. Well fought, duelists."
Rom bows politely to Crixos.
Primal earth abandons you, your flawed physicality reasserting itself once more as you forsake your primordial form.
Your race is now that of Xoran.
Crixos bows shortly his arms having been broken.
Thank you guys for indulging me, I enjoyed myself. I also always love looking at what people's imaginations can come up with!
Interested in joining a Discord about Achaean RP? Want to comment on RP topics or have RP questions? Check the Achaean RP Resource out here: https://discord.gg/Vbb9Zfs
Rom vs Iakimen. Gave arbiting a ritual duel a try for the first time, so made a tiny error but it was still pretty fun. Both were super creative I also appreciated the random emotes from the audience for some added ambience while the duelists wrote up their emotes.
Rom says in Mhaldorian, "Infernal." Iakimen says in a coarse voice, "Beastmaster."
Iakimen pats a domineering moose in a friendly manner.
A domineering moose nuzzles against Iakimen, dribble oozing from his mouth and tailing across his flesh.
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Oh..."
Tasuu nods her head.
You look about yourself, rubbing your chin thoughtfully.
Tasuu strolls to the center of the stage, nodding to both duelists.
Tasuu looks thoughtful and says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Duelists, prepare yourselves."
Rom brandishes his fists defiantly.
Rom says in Mhaldorian, "For the thrill of battle!"
Sherazad roars fiercely.
Iakimen says in a coarse voice, "And the rush of challenge."
A timberwolf begins to follow Rom obediently.
Rom easily vaults onto the back of a timberwolf.
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "And round one starts. Let the arbiter know your action."
Silently, a trail of thick, glistening saliva dribbles from a domineering moose's mouth.
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Rom will be going first, and Iakimen will follow suit."
Rom nods his head affirmatively.
You say to Sherazad, "Whom do you wager on?"
Sherazad says to you in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "I don't know enough to make a good bet. But, I shall pick.."
Rom rides his wolf straight towards Iakimen at high speed. With a pat on the creature's side, it quickly halts
and Rom dismounts in a hurry. He closes his eyes briefly as he swirls his hands at his sides, before jolting
them up above his head. With this action, magical hands of Evil sprout from the floor of the arena, yearning
and grasping at anything they may reach.
Sherazad says in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "Ward Iakimen."
Rom mutters words of death and decay, and suddenly the ground breaks open all around as hands of rotting flesh
and white bone push out of the ground.
You say to Sherazad, "A thousand gold on the infernal then. Do you accept?"
Tasuu takes a step back to avoid a hand grasping at her ankle.
Sherazad says to you in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "Sure."
Rom gestures with appreciation towards Crixos.
Crixos takes some meats from a bowl of tender, sauteed meats of indistinct origin to cook in
the lava as he watches.
Iakimen casts a keen eye over his array of beasts, before settling his eyes on his two-headed hellhound with a
firm nod. Staring at the hellhound with a commanding gaze, he raises his arm and point his finger commandingly
in Rom's direction. The hellhound jumps to its feet and rushes towards Rom in a full sprint, causing it to
painfully crash to the ground as the hands of evil emerge from the ground. Sliding forward up to Rom's feet,
the two heads snarl up at Rom until the hands begin to pet the hellhound's scalps, making the beast slowly
quiet down and whimper into submission.
Rom cackles hellishly.
Rom says in Mhaldorian, "Excellent."
Iakimen leaps into the air and launches a flying kick at a scarred, two-headed hellhound.
Iakimen connects.
A massive, ashen tiger springs to a scarred, two-headed hellhound's defence.
A deformed falcon springs to a scarred, two-headed hellhound's defence.
A domineering moose springs to a scarred, two-headed hellhound's defence.
Iakimen looks about himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Tasuu nods curtly, watching the hound skid roughly on the ground, being held in place by the grasping hands of
the dead.
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Rom's defensive action holds firm against Iakimen's attack, giving Rom
the first point of the duel."
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Iakimen will begin round two. Duelists, let the arbiter know your
action."
Sherazad says in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "More blood, gents."
Sherazad's eyes animatedly watch the duelists.
You say to Sherazad, "I'd be surprised if your beastmaster doesn't have his own hand bitten off soon."
Sherazad says to you in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "A hand, a foot. Whatever it takes to win."
Rom quickly dashes towards a trickle of lava flowing around the arena. He plunges his magically forged blade
into the heat and allows it to coat his weapon. Dropping into a kneel, he hovers his hand along the sword,
coating it now in another layer of magic, that of Evil. His hand, glowing faintly black, causes his blade to
follow suit. Shining now with molten light and the stench of death, he swings his broadsword in a wide arc,
sending an ethereal blade of fire and death hurling wide enough towards the Beastmaster and his companions to
strike them all at once.
Rom says in Mhaldorian, "Oh it wasn't my turn."
Rom utters a deep, rumbling laugh.
Rom says in Mhaldorian, "Well eat that sucker it's flying fast."
Iakimen cracks his knuckles with an audible 'pop'.
Sherazad says in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "Duck!"
Tasuu nods quietly, barely avoiding the whirling combination of hellfire and necromantic energy with a
sidestep.
Iakimen lets out a swift whistle, urgently commanding his falcon to dive in front of him and weave a defensive
pattern in front of his beasts to deflect the oncoming blast. The falcon quickly darts up, her eyes focused on
the blast - and abruptly dives headfirst into a stalagmite and promptly falls straight to the ground, blacked
out. Startled, Iakimen dives behind his moose, leaving the beast to roar in pain as the bulk of the blast hits
it full on.
"Ahah!" Rom exclaims triumphantly.
"Ouch!" Sherazad shrieks in pain.
Iakimen shakes his head sadly at a deformed falcon.
Rom says in Mhaldorian, "Now your falcon is even more messed up."
Tasuu winces as the falcon drops limply to the ground, failing to defend its master.
You snicker softly to yourself.
Sherazad says in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "A face only a mother could love."
Sherazad shakes her head sadly from side to side.
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "...Rom's power attack destroys Iakimen's defense."
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "The final round to determine the score. Ward Iakimen will start the
round. Duelists, let the arbiter know your actions."
Iakimen casts a concerned frown at his entourage of defeated beasts. He turns and walks to his ashen tiger,
pulling roughly on its chain to point the beast towards Rom, and slaps the tiger's hindquarters with a yelp.
Roaring savagely, the tiger makes a ferocious, mad dash for Rom, easily avoiding the grasping hands on the
ground due to its dexterity. Hidden by the bulk of the charging tiger, Iakimen runs over to his prone falcon
and grabs it by the foot. Lifting the bird above his head, he begins to swiftly twirl the falcon swiftly in a
circular motion until he releases it with a yell in Rom's direction beak-first, directly towards Rom's head.
Tasuu blinks, looking impressed.
Rom reacts with a quick twirl, his body dissipating into a puff of dark wind. A mere moment later, he
reappears fully formed just to the side of his opponent's rampaging path. He lazily sticks out his long blade
in front of where the rider will soon be. His "steed" having no time to react, Iakimen slams into the
outstretched blade.
Sherazad snaps her fingers.
Iakimen slumps down dejectedly.
Tasuu looks surprised and says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Rom's regular attack finds an opening in Iakimen's
impressive power attack, giving duelist Rom a the third and final point, and making him the winner."
Rom pumps his fists in the air to rally the troops.
Sherazad says in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "That was great."
Iakimen shakes Rom's hand firmly.
Tasuu looks surprised and says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Well fought duelists, and an impressive victory to
Duelist Rom. Though Duelist Iakimen's beast mastery was super cool too."
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Oh. at the end of each duel, the duelists must bow to each other."
Sherazad says to Iakimen in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "Ward, that bird ought to be rewarded."
I think it's a shame that city stuff gets gated behind, well, cities, despite it being good for building little communities within the community. In an ideal world, I'd get to read everything.
Mhaldor is celebrating another big anniversary, and I decided to open with a street parade. Props to @Syndra and @Lii for going along with me and performing excellent dances, given just a theme and a location. I love how it all turned out.
More ritual duelling! You and your brilliant ideas, @Jurixe.
After waiting patiently for the story to arrive at my apostasy, @Melodie was a wonderful tutor and @Crixos was as encouraging as he always is. He even made me murder him.
@Vaniel and our little Avicene also demonstrated their styles.
Today was a good day, solved some puzzle boxes and formally opened Sabarian Hall with a ritual duel after procrastinating on it for ages. Thanks to @Antidas for letting me turn my Mark contract into an RP duel and @Crixos for being my megaphone/usher!
Thanks also to our Divine guest(s?) who came later on.
It's very exciting to see a new activity take off and I hope it's here to stay. I do encourage everyone to try it at least once - you might be surprised!
Interested in joining a Discord about Achaean RP? Want to comment on RP topics or have RP questions? Check the Achaean RP Resource out here: https://discord.gg/Vbb9Zfs
Quarterfinal matches for the Sanguine Series, thank you @Jurixe. All in one paste, so if you're looking for a certain match, ctrl-F one of the following without the @ symbols:
A Babelonian marking ritual that Dunn wrote a couple weeks back.
Dunn strolls to the front of the altar and turns towards the gathering.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "We will begin."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold smiles and says in a deep, hollow voice, "Welcome, brothers and Disciples."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "Not all are called to serve the Master of Oblivion. It is a difficult, but rewarding life regardless of your path within the Cult."
Dunn smiles a bright smile, his third eye whirling in place before stopping abruptly.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "To pass through the Samyos years is to bare yourself to the harshnessof this world, exposed for all to show your dedication to Him."
Dunn motions to the gathering.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold smiles and says in a deep, hollow voice, "Please step forth, Disciples Irimon and Reiloch."
Dunn motions to a space slightly ahead of himself.
Reiloch steps toward Dunn.
Irimon stands from the gathering to the spot.
Dunn paces in front of the two Disciples, hands clasped behind his back.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "We are presently engaged in a war with the tree people, initiated bytheir own hand. Such is folly. To deny Oblivion is to earn the ire of the Spear of Babel."
The miasma wafting about Dunn flares a bright green, fading into darker hues as his face forms into a sardonic grin that is quickly obscuredby the dense mist.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold smiles and says in a deep, hollow voice, "And we have thus far shown them the error of their ways."
Dunn gestures to Dalran, hand extended with his open palm upwards.
Dalran nods slightly, and reaches behind into his backpack to procure the head of Mycen, dangling by it's hair. He then walks towards Dunn,and lays it in his outstretched palm.
Dunn smiles widely as the dead weight of the cranium alights upon his palm, his opposite hand immediately coming up to grasp the shaggy hair. He holds the head face out for the gathering to witness.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "Such individuals cannot comprehend the teachings of the Cult. Theysee only through their green lens: Nature is good, Chaos is bad."
Dunn gives a deep laugh, the miasma around him moving in hurried coils as he does so.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "The reality of it all is that the consumption of Nature by Chaos isinevitable. It is as inevitable as the surrender of these lesser beings."
Dunn grins widely once more before stepping to the side and behind the altar, lowering the head to rest upon the stump of its neck on thealtar.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "What is the purpose of weakness in this world, hm? It is for thestrong to stand upon. To grow beyond."
Dunn begins to wield a miasma wreathed black stone scimitar in his right hand.
Dunn reaches to his side and draws a jagged, jade scimitar, the blade almost humming as he holds it before himself. He lowers the blade andgives it a practiced flourish before muttering a quiet prayer.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold chants in a deep, hollow voice, "Oblivion take you all, Oblivion take me."
Dunn holds the scimitar aloft above his head, the pupil within the third eye upon his brow dilating until all that can be seen is a deepblackness.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "Such is the fate of those who stand in the face of the End."
Dunn brings the blade of the scimitar crashing down upon the head, splitting it from scalp to spinal base. A spray of cold, clotted bloodsprays across the faces and chests of Irimon and Reiloch. Dunn smiles at the result, the miasma about him growing dark as he removes his hands from hilt of the scimitar, the blade remaining lodged in the altar.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says sternly in a deep, hollow voice, "Kneel, Disciples Irimon and Reiloch."
Irimon drops to one knee.
Reiloch drops to one knee.
Dunn stares at the kneeling with all three of his eyes as he sets to work on one half of the skull, tearing the jaw bone from its hinge and ruthlessly tearing the flesh from the bone. After a brief time he smiles, a jawbone devoid of the mass of flesh resting in his hands.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "You will be Marked today with the inevitability of denying Oblivion. Baptized in the beauty of our brutality... such is the fate of all, in the end."
Dunn holds the bone between his hands and bends it sharply, the resulting break a jagged implement.
Dunn steps to the side of the altar and strolls in front of the kneeling Disciples. He looks down upon them and meets the gaze of Irimon
with an unsettling smile.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says to Irimon in a deep, hollow voice, "Disciple Irimon. You have pledged yourself to the truth of the infinite abyss: Oblivion. His goals will be your goals, His wants your wants. Raise your arm."
Irimon stands up.
Irimon drops to one knee.
Irimon stands up.
Irimon raises his arm, presenting it to Dunn.
Dunn shifts the cutting instrument to his right hand, raising his left to accept Irimon's arm. With a too content sigh, he sets to work carving into the forearm. Two agonizingly slow insertions and pulls of the bloodied jaw later, the Mark of the Twin, 'II', stands stark upon the forearm of Irimon, blood leaking from the wound.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold smiles and says in a deep, hollow voice, "Rise, Disciple Irimon. You are now further on your journey to the entrance of the Cult of Oblivion. May the remainder of your path be filled with knowledge, and perhaps more bloodshed."
Dunn steps to the side, now parallel with the kneeling form of Reiloch.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says to Reiloch in a deep, hollow voice, "Disciple Reiloch. You have pledged yourself to the truth of the infinite abyss: Oblivion. His goals will be your goals, His wants your wants. Raise your arm."
Reiloch stands up.
Reiloch extends his left hand in a loose fist toward Dunn.
Dunn accepts Reiloch's arm into his hand and immediately sets to his macabre work. Two agonizingly slow insertions and pulls of the bloodied jaw later, the Mark of the Twin, 'II', stands stark upon the forearm of Reiloch, blood leaking from the wound.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "Rise, Disciple Reiloch. You are now further on your journey to the entrance of the Cult of Oblivion. May the remainder of your path be filled with knowledge and understanding of the infinite abyss."
Dunn places the bone upon the altar and stands tall.
You see Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold shout, "Hail, Oblivion! Hail the infinite abyss!"
Eldritch General Hirst da'Miras says in a deep, strong voice, "Congratulations, Disciples."
Eldritch General Hirst da'Miras says in a deep, strong voice, "Or more correctly, Marked."
Reiloch's mouth turns up as his face breaks into a smile.
You smile and say with an urbane accent, "Fresh blood to further the Master's will. Excellent."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold smiles and says in a deep, hollow voice, "Congratulations."
Keeper Reiloch von Messer says with a slurred, throaty accent, "Thank you. It was... quite spectacularly painful!"
Reiloch chuckles long and heartily.
The pupil of Dunn's third eye dilates and constricts as he cracks a smile.
Dunn looks at the split and mangled skull upon the altar.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "For her too, I'm sure."
A wry smile flits across Irimon's lips.
Sohl casually brushes a spot of brain matter from his cloak.
Dunn turns and wrenches his scimitar from the altar.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold frowns and says in a deep, hollow voice, "A shame the High Priest could not join us."
Hirst nods his head at Dunn, showing his acceptance.
Eldritch General Hirst da'Miras says in a deep, strong voice, "But know, Marked, that our Lord is ever mindful of our actions. Your trials have not ended but changed."
Dunn nods his head slowly.
Eldritch General Hirst da'Miras says in a deep, strong voice, "Wear your Mark with pride."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "You will now be contacted about two tasks: one from the Spear of Babel and one from the Crown of Babel."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "Be patient and ready yourself for these tasks."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "I don't see any Eleusians to kill..."
A pensive look crosses the face of Dunn before he idly rubs a hand over the Mark upon his forearm and emits a low 'Hmmmm.'
Eldritch General Hirst da'Miras says in a deep, strong voice, "Well then."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "Thank you all for attending and congratulations again to Reiloch and Irimon."
Comments
The Nithilar family claims dominion over a number of small villages in the area, protecting them in return for tithes. However, as the family grows smaller with dormancies, there's been talk of mercenary raids and rebellion. It was decided to host a gala to find out who the people behind the rebellion were, but the family got more than they expected (shameless clickbait title).
I want to say that only about 10% of this was prepared beforehand, and @Seortiae, @Ysela and @Stheno had no idea of what was going to happen, so everything you see from them was done off the cuff. What isn't obvious in the log are the many times that @Crixos and @Chiam had to cover for me when I dc'd. I'm not going to reveal all of the magic behind how we did what we did, but it's not too hard to figure out.
Things didn't quite go to plan as I dc'd a lot (initially we were supposed to visit the denizens one by one) and there were a lot of funny mishaps, like when Seortiae got attacked by all the npcs due to loyalty issues. But for the purposes of storytelling, here is the edited version. Achaea is all about great stories, so don't be afraid to try and make them happen, even if you're not sure how it will turn out.
The log is from Crixos' POV. It doesn't have everything, as he wasn't part of some interactions, but perhaps it's better this way too.
The Siege of Silberkral
Stories by Jurixe and Stories by Jurixe 2
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https://pastebin.com/dFKcX2SC
Almost eight IG years after the event happened, she received a farewell letter.
13th of Scarlatan, 747 AF
Shayde,
I realize you may know everything and my input may be scrutinized by
your ever disbelieving eye. Withal, in the off chance that something I
say rings true for you, I am going to give my last good-bye a try.
In my seventy-five years, the most notable of my proteges was you.
Bright and driven, you were born to skirt many of the rules that tie the
hands of moralistic individuals. I understand because of this we
struggled throughout our relationship. I was not easy on you, but I do
not ask for your clemency. It was my joy to continue to push you towards
the edge. I do not regret this.
My only regret lies in my absence when I should have helped you stick to
your resolve. When you were fooled, persuaded, and tempted into straying
towards the path of least resistance. Your growth faltered because of
complacency, fueled by your addictive personality. I was angry with
myself and I could not get over the fact I failed you. Until now.
After some years my angered subsided and my guilt ebbed, I saw the
person I first fell in love with. You have come full circle, Shayde, and
I am, regrettably, proud to see what you have become within the city of Evil. You are
surrounded by people such as my father that can help. Continue to accept it.
All I have wished in life was for you to put your growth and development
first, not wasting it on meaningless drudgery meant for the dredges of
society. While it is important to always take time to enjoy life, you
are much more than a simple doll to be tossed around.
Promise me in my retirement you will not grow complacent. There are
always long-term repercussions to every action, thought, and word. Be
conscious and selective.
May Light lead you home,
Tristyn Wintermourne
After receiving such a letter, she gained help from Talamond to fetch her mentor's written work so she could give it to Aodfionn. This was his response:
23rd of Valnuary, 747 AF
Phantom,
You may or may not be capable of understanding the depth of meaning that
accompanied your last missive. There are no words in common to
sufficiently appreciate that effort. There are likely no words in Troll,
either.
Thank you.
'fionn
Breathrain and all, it was a fun moment! This is the dance interrupted and the music was set to Danse Macabre. It took me awhile to write out the music into text form, but hope you all like it.
Camille Saint-Saëns - Danse Macabre
Gliding to the center of the room, Cooper smiles joyfully as he eyes those standing before him. He motions slowly to the Raven.
Cooper says, “We will have the first dance of the evening, the rest of you may join as we finish.”
Shayde considers Cooper behind her raven disguise and nods courteously before moving to join him in the center of the room.
Rising up from the silence, the music opens with the strains of a harp drifting upwards, urgently chiming a single note several times, before accompanied by the soft chords of the strings section.
Bracelets clinking together, Cooper raises his arm and offers his hand to you.
Shayde drops into an elegant curtsy, green eyes glinting devilishly behind her mask, before accepting Cooper's hand and awaiting his lead.
Influenced by the silken call from the harp, the solo violin leisurely tunes itself, fabricating a haunting chord from the bow and strings.
After which an unaccompanied flute strikes up a vibrant melody, which is then countered by the strings section.
Cooper places his hand on the small of Shayde's back, holding firmly, his other hand, guiding the way as they begin their dance.
Shayde places her free hand upon Cooper's shoulder, following along, as her flashy, gold high heels seek each floor tile with ease and expertise.
It is followed by the quiet, skeletal strings of the violin with a lilting waltz tune, played twice and briefly intersected by the returning flute with an additional thrumming of the percussion.
The entire orchestra seamlessly joins in a descending scale until it breaks off into the solo violin and harp fervently alternating the scale, presaging a haunting dance in the woodwinds.
Sliding his hand lower, Cooper twirls the two in a quick circle before leaning you back in a dangerously low dip.
Shayde appears to be momentarily startled by dip as her dark wings extend and brush the floor beneath them. Regaining her composure, she smiles up at Cooper while her fingers grip a little more securely at his shoulder.
The passage increases steadily and becomes more spirited as the strings and percussion plays with strong crescendos.
They are matched by horns and xylophone accents, intruding into the peaceful melody and heralding anxiety.
Sensing your fear of falling, Cooper lifts you gently and presses their bodies firmly together while moving elegantly to the music.
Shayde catches Cooper's gaze, lips parting in a musing smile at the close proximity, while the violins quickened their haunting pace around them. She allowed herself to be led once more into the graceful waltz, her heels still clicking musically on the ground.
Abruptly interposing, the resigned notes of an oboe cries out as the environment promptly shifts directions.
The tempo swells and softens as the violin plays a lamenting tune, eventually joined for one last statement by the full orchestra in a dissonant clash, trumpet holding on the high note, matched by more horns.
The two now moving much more slowly, Cooper motions to the rest of the crowd to join them, while staring straight into your eyes.
(long emotes from other dancers go here)
The final section, piano and strings swing hypnotically from ominous warning to domestic tranquility, eventually tapering off to the conclusion of the piece.
The music was amazing, very well done.
We had waltzes, a tango, and classic swaying, but @Nylian spoke for us all.
Reaching down with a massive hand, Sartan lifts your head and draws a taloned finger across your throat, the wound closing as He does so.
He is a human. He masquerades as a siren, his face as still and calm as a mask of death. The wave of
his ash-blonde hair breaks over his right shoulder, coiffed into something like obedience with a
sweet-smelling oil, while a few strands are braided along his scalp with military tightness. His
left shoulder is branded with a raised, eight-spoked wheel, as if embroidered by hand: the property
of Evil. The striking pallor of his complexion seems to glow from within, freckles dusting his
cheeks like a cup of tipped stars. Here and there, fine golden scales are plated in a second skin,
conforming to the lines and curves of his slim body. He walks with artistry, each step balanced by
the length of her spine, often stopping and swaying to some inaudible rhythm. Beneath his dark
eyelashes, his eyes are the orange-red of rust, bleeding out from the bottom of a sunken ship. His
pupils are slit in the light.
He is wearing:
a stunningly beautiful silk and black lace gown, black velvet spinal column high-heeled shoes, a
bronze Ring of Iniquity, a crackling ring of polished hematite, a gold anklet of ruby rosebuds,
dotted with dew, a gold anklet of ruby rosebuds, dotted with dew, a golden ring depicting a coiled
serpent, a golden ring depicting a coiled serpent, a black velvet choker set with a cobalt sapphire,
and a bright coppery chrysanthemum haircomb.
Containers:
a wyrmskin pack and a cormorant-feathered knapsack.
Jewellery:
a filigree bell earring through your left ear and a filigree bell earring through your right ear.
Misc:
the shackle of the Tyrannus and black eyeliner.
You are now the proud owner of a regal golden charger!
A regal golden charger dances delightfully.
You clap your hands together merrily.
You say to Zackery in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "See that he's still dancing when I return, Purifier."
You say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "A moment."
Zackery nods.
Purifier Zackery Aristata says to a regal golden charger in Mhaldorian, "Dance, beast. Dance."
Purifier Zackery Aristata looks surprised and says in Mhaldorian, "He stopped dancing."
Zackery pets a regal golden charger very nicely.
Purifier Zackery Aristata says to you in Mhaldorian, "I've broken your horse."
Insid'ari @Kiet Aristata al-Azhan looks surprised and says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "A pony."
You pet a regal golden charger very nicely.
You say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "A pony."
You say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "He was dancing before."
You purse your lips, deep in thought as you contemplate a regal golden charger.
Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "What, the pony?"
Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "Ponies don't dance, silly."
You say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "He was!"
You say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "He danced for the Purifier, all shining hooves."
Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "Have you been drinking?"
You frown and say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "No."
You whisper in a regal golden charger's ear.
You can't seem to convey your mental message to that denizen.
You shake your head.
Kiet gives you the once-over, eyeing you suspiciously.
Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "Ponies don't dance!"
Kiet tilts his head curiously.
Kiet pets a regal golden charger ingratiatingly.
You pet a regal golden charger very nicely.
You say angrily to Kiet in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "You touched him too soon."
"Wow!" Kiet exclaims.
You say in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "Now he won't dance."
You pet a skeletal steed very nicely.
A skeletal steed dances delightfully.
You say in a sibilant voice, "Good."
The corners of @Skye's mouth turn up as she grins mischievously.
@Melodie Le'Murzen, Lady Mercantile laughingly says with a flowing, cultured accent, "Dancing ponies."
You say in a sibilant voice, "I should open a circus."
You crack your whip demonstratively, sending a few blank letters fluttering to the ground.
You sadly tell Kiet in Mhaldorian, "But I was just learning to care for them."
Kiet's voice quietly thrums in your mind as he tells you, "They're dancing for me now. Together."
Kiet's voice quietly thrums in your mind as he tells you, "Waltzing."
You softly tell Kiet in Mhaldorian, "No."
You tell Kiet in Mhaldorian, "You're lying!"
Kiet's voice quietly thrums in your mind as he tells you, "How can you know?"
You tell Kiet in Mhaldorian, "I know when you're lying."
Kiet's voice quietly thrums in your mind as he tells you, "But are you sure? What if they really are dancing, and you're missing it?"
You softly tell Kiet in Mhaldorian, "Please."
Kiet's voice quietly thrums in your mind as he tells you, "You're right, ponies don't dance."
You pet a skeletal steed very nicely.
Kiet shakes his head sadly from side to side.
A deep crease forms across your forehead as you furrow your brow.
You whisper in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "What's the secret?"
Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "I'll have to find a healer for your hallucinations."
You give a pained sigh.
You say hesitantly in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "Maybe."
Kiet nods his head emphatically.
Kiet pats you in a friendly manner.
You pet a regal golden charger very nicely.
You pet a regal golden charger very nicely.
You pet a regal golden charger very nicely.
A regal golden charger dances delightfully.
You give a horrified gasp.
You point accusingly at a regal golden charger.
"Wow!" Kiet exclaims.
Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan looks sceptical and says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "Are you using illusions?"
You exclaim to Kiet in Mhaldorian in a sibilant voice, "I told you!"
You shake your head.
Insid'ari Kiet Aristata al-Azhan says in Mhaldorian in a clear, confident voice, "Deceitful."
A regal golden charger turns to face you, then winks.
Reaching down with a massive hand, Sartan lifts your head and draws a taloned finger across your throat, the wound closing as He does so.
Big thanks to @Jurixe for getting Ritual Dueling established. It's been great fun, and we managed to show it off at the Cyrene Centennial! Thanks everyone for attending and of course to @Salisa and @Voc for stepping up to be first time duelists!
(Salisa vs Voc ritual duel)
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Jurixe vs @Vender:
[spoiler]A mossy cave forest.
Stories by Jurixe and Stories by Jurixe 2
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[spoiler]Ellodin begins to wield a Crook of Ovine Mastery in his left hand.
Stories by Jurixe and Stories by Jurixe 2
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@Crixos vs @Rom (I enjoyed this duel a lot! Spoiler tags broke and I can't figure out how to fix them so apologies for length)
Rom rushes forward into the dueling space, before raising his pointed finger towards Crixos.
Thank you guys for indulging me, I enjoyed myself. I also always love looking at what people's imaginations can come up with!
Stories by Jurixe and Stories by Jurixe 2
Interested in joining a Discord about Achaean RP? Want to comment on RP topics or have RP questions? Check the Achaean RP Resource out here: https://discord.gg/Vbb9Zfs
Iakimen says in a coarse voice, "Beastmaster."
Iakimen pats a domineering moose in a friendly manner.
A domineering moose nuzzles against Iakimen, dribble oozing from his mouth and tailing across his flesh.
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Oh..."
Tasuu nods her head.
You look about yourself, rubbing your chin thoughtfully.
Tasuu strolls to the center of the stage, nodding to both duelists.
Tasuu looks thoughtful and says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Duelists, prepare yourselves."
Rom brandishes his fists defiantly.
Rom says in Mhaldorian, "For the thrill of battle!"
Sherazad roars fiercely.
Iakimen says in a coarse voice, "And the rush of challenge."
A timberwolf begins to follow Rom obediently.
Rom easily vaults onto the back of a timberwolf.
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "And round one starts. Let the arbiter know your action."
Silently, a trail of thick, glistening saliva dribbles from a domineering moose's mouth.
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Rom will be going first, and Iakimen will follow suit."
Rom nods his head affirmatively.
You say to Sherazad, "Whom do you wager on?"
Sherazad says to you in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "I don't know enough to make a good bet. But, I shall pick.."
Rom rides his wolf straight towards Iakimen at high speed. With a pat on the creature's side, it quickly halts
and Rom dismounts in a hurry. He closes his eyes briefly as he swirls his hands at his sides, before jolting
them up above his head. With this action, magical hands of Evil sprout from the floor of the arena, yearning
and grasping at anything they may reach.
Sherazad says in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "Ward Iakimen."
Rom mutters words of death and decay, and suddenly the ground breaks open all around as hands of rotting flesh
and white bone push out of the ground.
You say to Sherazad, "A thousand gold on the infernal then. Do you accept?"
Tasuu takes a step back to avoid a hand grasping at her ankle.
Sherazad says to you in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "Sure."
Rom gestures with appreciation towards Crixos.
Crixos takes some meats from a bowl of tender, sauteed meats of indistinct origin to cook in
the lava as he watches.
Iakimen casts a keen eye over his array of beasts, before settling his eyes on his two-headed hellhound with a
firm nod. Staring at the hellhound with a commanding gaze, he raises his arm and point his finger commandingly
in Rom's direction. The hellhound jumps to its feet and rushes towards Rom in a full sprint, causing it to
painfully crash to the ground as the hands of evil emerge from the ground. Sliding forward up to Rom's feet,
the two heads snarl up at Rom until the hands begin to pet the hellhound's scalps, making the beast slowly
quiet down and whimper into submission.
Rom cackles hellishly.
Rom says in Mhaldorian, "Excellent."
Iakimen leaps into the air and launches a flying kick at a scarred, two-headed hellhound.
Iakimen connects.
A massive, ashen tiger springs to a scarred, two-headed hellhound's defence.
A deformed falcon springs to a scarred, two-headed hellhound's defence.
A domineering moose springs to a scarred, two-headed hellhound's defence.
Iakimen looks about himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Tasuu nods curtly, watching the hound skid roughly on the ground, being held in place by the grasping hands of
the dead.
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Rom's defensive action holds firm against Iakimen's attack, giving Rom
the first point of the duel."
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Iakimen will begin round two. Duelists, let the arbiter know your
action."
Sherazad says in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "More blood, gents."
Sherazad's eyes animatedly watch the duelists.
You say to Sherazad, "I'd be surprised if your beastmaster doesn't have his own hand bitten off soon."
Sherazad says to you in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "A hand, a foot. Whatever it takes to win."
Rom quickly dashes towards a trickle of lava flowing around the arena. He plunges his magically forged blade
into the heat and allows it to coat his weapon. Dropping into a kneel, he hovers his hand along the sword,
coating it now in another layer of magic, that of Evil. His hand, glowing faintly black, causes his blade to
follow suit. Shining now with molten light and the stench of death, he swings his broadsword in a wide arc,
sending an ethereal blade of fire and death hurling wide enough towards the Beastmaster and his companions to
strike them all at once.
Rom says in Mhaldorian, "Oh it wasn't my turn."
Rom utters a deep, rumbling laugh.
Rom says in Mhaldorian, "Well eat that sucker it's flying fast."
Iakimen cracks his knuckles with an audible 'pop'.
Sherazad says in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "Duck!"
Tasuu nods quietly, barely avoiding the whirling combination of hellfire and necromantic energy with a
sidestep.
Iakimen lets out a swift whistle, urgently commanding his falcon to dive in front of him and weave a defensive
pattern in front of his beasts to deflect the oncoming blast. The falcon quickly darts up, her eyes focused on
the blast - and abruptly dives headfirst into a stalagmite and promptly falls straight to the ground, blacked
out. Startled, Iakimen dives behind his moose, leaving the beast to roar in pain as the bulk of the blast hits
it full on.
"Ahah!" Rom exclaims triumphantly.
"Ouch!" Sherazad shrieks in pain.
Iakimen shakes his head sadly at a deformed falcon.
Rom says in Mhaldorian, "Now your falcon is even more messed up."
Tasuu winces as the falcon drops limply to the ground, failing to defend its master.
You snicker softly to yourself.
Sherazad says in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "A face only a mother could love."
Sherazad shakes her head sadly from side to side.
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "...Rom's power attack destroys Iakimen's defense."
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "The final round to determine the score. Ward Iakimen will start the
round. Duelists, let the arbiter know your actions."
Iakimen casts a concerned frown at his entourage of defeated beasts. He turns and walks to his ashen tiger,
pulling roughly on its chain to point the beast towards Rom, and slaps the tiger's hindquarters with a yelp.
Roaring savagely, the tiger makes a ferocious, mad dash for Rom, easily avoiding the grasping hands on the
ground due to its dexterity. Hidden by the bulk of the charging tiger, Iakimen runs over to his prone falcon
and grabs it by the foot. Lifting the bird above his head, he begins to swiftly twirl the falcon swiftly in a
circular motion until he releases it with a yell in Rom's direction beak-first, directly towards Rom's head.
Tasuu blinks, looking impressed.
Rom reacts with a quick twirl, his body dissipating into a puff of dark wind. A mere moment later, he
reappears fully formed just to the side of his opponent's rampaging path. He lazily sticks out his long blade
in front of where the rider will soon be. His "steed" having no time to react, Iakimen slams into the
outstretched blade.
Sherazad snaps her fingers.
Iakimen slumps down dejectedly.
Tasuu looks surprised and says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Rom's regular attack finds an opening in Iakimen's
impressive power attack, giving duelist Rom a the third and final point, and making him the winner."
Rom pumps his fists in the air to rally the troops.
Sherazad says in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "That was great."
Iakimen shakes Rom's hand firmly.
Tasuu looks surprised and says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Well fought duelists, and an impressive victory to
Duelist Rom. Though Duelist Iakimen's beast mastery was super cool too."
Tasuu says in a mellow, subdued voice, "Oh. at the end of each duel, the duelists must bow to each other."
Sherazad says to Iakimen in Mhaldorian in a husky, drawling voice, "Ward, that bird ought to be rewarded."
Mhaldor is celebrating another big anniversary, and I decided to open with a street parade. Props to @Syndra and @Lii for going along with me and performing excellent dances, given just a theme and a location. I love how it all turned out.
https://pastebin.com/FkQcgFYr
Reaching down with a massive hand, Sartan lifts your head and draws a taloned finger across your throat, the wound closing as He does so.
After waiting patiently for the story to arrive at my apostasy, @Melodie was a wonderful tutor and @Crixos was as encouraging as he always is. He even made me murder him.
@Vaniel and our little Avicene also demonstrated their styles.
https://pastebin.com/g8zw2EQw
Thanks to @Alrena for arbitrating on a whim.
Reaching down with a massive hand, Sartan lifts your head and draws a taloned finger across your throat, the wound closing as He does so.
Log for those interested, cleaned up from @Ellodin: https://ada-young.appspot.com/pastebin/KRKJ9QcD
Thanks also to our Divine guest(s?) who came later on.
It's very exciting to see a new activity take off and I hope it's here to stay. I do encourage everyone to try it at least once - you might be surprised!
Stories by Jurixe and Stories by Jurixe 2
Interested in joining a Discord about Achaean RP? Want to comment on RP topics or have RP questions? Check the Achaean RP Resource out here: https://discord.gg/Vbb9Zfs
Ellodin vs. @Rackham
@Kei vs. @Tegan
@Alasiel vs. @Elisella
@Stheno vs. @Xandir
https://pastebin.com/bAkSGYbq
Dunn strolls to the front of the altar and turns towards the gathering.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "We will begin."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold smiles and says in a deep, hollow voice, "Welcome, brothers and Disciples."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "Not all are called to serve the Master of Oblivion. It is a difficult, but rewarding life regardless of your path within the Cult."
Dunn smiles a bright smile, his third eye whirling in place before stopping abruptly.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "To pass through the Samyos years is to bare yourself to the harshnessof this world, exposed for all to show your dedication to Him."
Dunn motions to the gathering.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold smiles and says in a deep, hollow voice, "Please step forth, Disciples Irimon and Reiloch."
Dunn motions to a space slightly ahead of himself.
Reiloch steps toward Dunn.
Irimon stands from the gathering to the spot.
Dunn paces in front of the two Disciples, hands clasped behind his back.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "We are presently engaged in a war with the tree people, initiated bytheir own hand. Such is folly. To deny Oblivion is to earn the ire of the Spear of Babel."
The miasma wafting about Dunn flares a bright green, fading into darker hues as his face forms into a sardonic grin that is quickly obscuredby the dense mist.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold smiles and says in a deep, hollow voice, "And we have thus far shown them the error of their ways."
Dunn gestures to Dalran, hand extended with his open palm upwards.
Dalran nods slightly, and reaches behind into his backpack to procure the head of Mycen, dangling by it's hair. He then walks towards Dunn,and lays it in his outstretched palm.
Dunn smiles widely as the dead weight of the cranium alights upon his palm, his opposite hand immediately coming up to grasp the shaggy hair. He holds the head face out for the gathering to witness.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "Such individuals cannot comprehend the teachings of the Cult. Theysee only through their green lens: Nature is good, Chaos is bad."
Dunn gives a deep laugh, the miasma around him moving in hurried coils as he does so.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "The reality of it all is that the consumption of Nature by Chaos isinevitable. It is as inevitable as the surrender of these lesser beings."
Dunn grins widely once more before stepping to the side and behind the altar, lowering the head to rest upon the stump of its neck on thealtar.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "What is the purpose of weakness in this world, hm? It is for thestrong to stand upon. To grow beyond."
Dunn begins to wield a miasma wreathed black stone scimitar in his right hand.
Dunn reaches to his side and draws a jagged, jade scimitar, the blade almost humming as he holds it before himself. He lowers the blade andgives it a practiced flourish before muttering a quiet prayer.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold chants in a deep, hollow voice, "Oblivion take you all, Oblivion take me."
Dunn holds the scimitar aloft above his head, the pupil within the third eye upon his brow dilating until all that can be seen is a deepblackness.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "Such is the fate of those who stand in the face of the End."
Dunn brings the blade of the scimitar crashing down upon the head, splitting it from scalp to spinal base. A spray of cold, clotted bloodsprays across the faces and chests of Irimon and Reiloch. Dunn smiles at the result, the miasma about him growing dark as he removes his hands from hilt of the scimitar, the blade remaining lodged in the altar.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says sternly in a deep, hollow voice, "Kneel, Disciples Irimon and Reiloch."
Irimon drops to one knee.
Reiloch drops to one knee.
Dunn stares at the kneeling with all three of his eyes as he sets to work on one half of the skull, tearing the jaw bone from its hinge and ruthlessly tearing the flesh from the bone. After a brief time he smiles, a jawbone devoid of the mass of flesh resting in his hands.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "You will be Marked today with the inevitability of denying Oblivion. Baptized in the beauty of our brutality... such is the fate of all, in the end."
Dunn holds the bone between his hands and bends it sharply, the resulting break a jagged implement.
Dunn steps to the side of the altar and strolls in front of the kneeling Disciples. He looks down upon them and meets the gaze of Irimon
with an unsettling smile.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says to Irimon in a deep, hollow voice, "Disciple Irimon. You have pledged yourself to the truth of the infinite abyss: Oblivion. His goals will be your goals, His wants your wants. Raise your arm."
Irimon stands up.
Irimon drops to one knee.
Irimon stands up.
Irimon raises his arm, presenting it to Dunn.
Dunn shifts the cutting instrument to his right hand, raising his left to accept Irimon's arm. With a too content sigh, he sets to work carving into the forearm. Two agonizingly slow insertions and pulls of the bloodied jaw later, the Mark of the Twin, 'II', stands stark upon the forearm of Irimon, blood leaking from the wound.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold smiles and says in a deep, hollow voice, "Rise, Disciple Irimon. You are now further on your journey to the entrance of the Cult of Oblivion. May the remainder of your path be filled with knowledge, and perhaps more bloodshed."
Dunn steps to the side, now parallel with the kneeling form of Reiloch.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says to Reiloch in a deep, hollow voice, "Disciple Reiloch. You have pledged yourself to the truth of the infinite abyss: Oblivion. His goals will be your goals, His wants your wants. Raise your arm."
Reiloch stands up.
Reiloch extends his left hand in a loose fist toward Dunn.
Dunn accepts Reiloch's arm into his hand and immediately sets to his macabre work. Two agonizingly slow insertions and pulls of the bloodied jaw later, the Mark of the Twin, 'II', stands stark upon the forearm of Reiloch, blood leaking from the wound.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "Rise, Disciple Reiloch. You are now further on your journey to the entrance of the Cult of Oblivion. May the remainder of your path be filled with knowledge and understanding of the infinite abyss."
Dunn places the bone upon the altar and stands tall.
You see Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold shout, "Hail, Oblivion! Hail the infinite abyss!"
Eldritch General Hirst da'Miras says in a deep, strong voice, "Congratulations, Disciples."
Eldritch General Hirst da'Miras says in a deep, strong voice, "Or more correctly, Marked."
Reiloch's mouth turns up as his face breaks into a smile.
You smile and say with an urbane accent, "Fresh blood to further the Master's will. Excellent."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold smiles and says in a deep, hollow voice, "Congratulations."
Keeper Reiloch von Messer says with a slurred, throaty accent, "Thank you. It was... quite spectacularly painful!"
Reiloch chuckles long and heartily.
The pupil of Dunn's third eye dilates and constricts as he cracks a smile.
Dunn looks at the split and mangled skull upon the altar.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "For her too, I'm sure."
A wry smile flits across Irimon's lips.
Sohl casually brushes a spot of brain matter from his cloak.
Dunn turns and wrenches his scimitar from the altar.
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold frowns and says in a deep, hollow voice, "A shame the High Priest could not join us."
Hirst nods his head at Dunn, showing his acceptance.
Eldritch General Hirst da'Miras says in a deep, strong voice, "But know, Marked, that our Lord is ever mindful of our actions. Your trials have not ended but changed."
Dunn nods his head slowly.
Eldritch General Hirst da'Miras says in a deep, strong voice, "Wear your Mark with pride."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "You will now be contacted about two tasks: one from the Spear of Babel and one from the Crown of Babel."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "Be patient and ready yourself for these tasks."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "I don't see any Eleusians to kill..."
A pensive look crosses the face of Dunn before he idly rubs a hand over the Mark upon his forearm and emits a low 'Hmmmm.'
Eldritch General Hirst da'Miras says in a deep, strong voice, "Well then."
Jy'Rakym Dunn, Herald of the Outer Cold says in a deep, hollow voice, "Thank you all for attending and congratulations again to Reiloch and Irimon."
https://ada-young.appspot.com/pastebin/O-WGFkaC
[ SnB PvP Guide | Link ]