Roleplay Logs!

Cerys

That was the cutest puppet shown I have seen, the yellow chicken was my favourite part!

Jiraishin

You bow respectfully to Tvistor.

 

You have emoted: Jiraishin grins viciously.

 

Icraa says to Tvistor in Targossian with a rough, Xorani accent, "Looks like

you didnt have to wait a couple days for more people to come around after all!"

 

Icraa says to you in Targossian with a rough, Xorani accent, "This was the

friend you mentioned right?"

 

Tvistor stares at you in shock.

 

You nod your head at Icraa.

 

Icraa says in Targossian with a rough, Xorani accent, "Should i leave?"

 

You have emoted: Jiraishin casts Tvistor an unsettling smile.

 

You shrug helplessly at Icraa.

 

Icraa says in Targossian with a rough, Xorani accent, "Looks like you two have

a lot of catching up to do."

 

You nod your head emphatically.

 

Icraa says in Targossian with a rough, Xorani accent, "Right, i'll be acting

like a statue at rally point."

 

Icraa clasps his hands before himself and performs a simple, respectful bow.

 

You give Icraa a respectful salute.

 

Tvistor absently salutes Icraa while keeping his gaze firmly fixated on you.

Icraa leaves to the east.

 

You say conversationally with a harsh Western accent, "You absolute son of a

bitch."

 

Tvistor says in Targossian in a smoothly flowing voice, "How the hell did you

trick them into letting you in here?"

Welcome back, @Tvistor

Also, why hasn't anyone posted in the Roleplay Logs thread since May 1st? Sheesh.

Melodie

I want in on that conversation so freaking bad.

Jiraishin

Melodie said:

I want in on that conversation so freaking bad.

@Melodie Too bad you'll never know what happened next

Melodie

      

Jiraishin

@Melodie ok, fine, I'll give you a bit from near the end.

Tvistor says in Targossian in a smoothly flowing voice, "Quite. This has
certainly given me something to think about."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I'm sure it has."
 
Tvistor rattles: Though it doesn't change a thing for me either way.
 
You rattle: I'm sure it doesn't.
 
You rattle: May I say how gratifying that look of shock on your face was?
 
You rattle: Because it was -precious-.
 
Tvistor scowls.
 
You have emoted: Jiraishin grins widely, eyes dancing with wicked humour.
 
You rattle: Next time I won't warn you via tell when I'm around. I'll come up
behind you and say hello. Just like old times.
 
Tvistor heaves an almighty groan.
 
Tvistor says in Targossian in a smoothly flowing voice, "Decades. Decades of it
and I thought I was free."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Never."
 
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I will -always- be there to bring you to
the edge of heart attack."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I will especially be there when you were
quite sure no one was standing behind you."
 
Tvistor says in Targossian in a smoothly flowing voice, "I wonder if I can get
them to purchase more torches."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Like that ever stopped me."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Remember the time you were phased at
Stygian and I found you? And when you turned around I wasn't there?"
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "That was classic."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Or the time I was meditating and you
legitimately did not notice I had been standing behind you doing so for
five-plus minutes."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Or the time you were talking to Taraus
and tried to claim you knew I had been there all along, but couldn't get your
voice to work right."
 
Tvistor says in Targossian in a smoothly flowing voice, "Honestly, all the
events have blended into one long contiguous block of shocked recollection."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Well. Clearly you needed help steeling
your nerves."
 
Tvistor tilts his head to one side while looking at nothing in particular, rubs
his chin, and thoughtfully mumbles "Hrm."
 
You say happily with a harsh Western accent, "Purity through Sacrifice. Through
Sacrificing your ideas of safety, I bring you closer to Purity and serving
Righteousness."

Torinn

*snort*

Melodie

Y'all some adorbs hardasses.

Atalkez

That’s good stuff

Jiraishin

First off, someone else needs to post logs, I like reading them and I'd really hate for this thread to die.

Second off, here's a log from today, Jiraishin talking to his baby TargNagas (two Serpent novices and one Priest who ought to be a Serpent and wants to multiclass in the distant someday). It started out as a discussion of skills and teaching session, then morphed into Jiraishin talking about Mhaldor and conjuring illusions. Warning: it's so long I had to make more than one post. 

Also, because I suck and so does Nexus, some of the things the novices said or did got lost, and I had to reconstruct two illusions and one thing Jir said from memory because they weren't logged. 

Yazmine says to you in a smooth, melodic voice, "How long ago did you leave the
Red Isle?"
 
You say to Yazmine with a harsh Western accent, "Over a century and a half
ago."
 
Agir says with a Targossas accent, "Red Isle? Where is that?"
 
Yazmine says to Agir in a smooth, melodic voice, "Mhaldor."
 
"Oh?" Agir exclaims quizzically.
 
You say to Agir with a harsh Western accent, "It is another name for Mhaldor,
so called because of the red fog."
 
Comprehension flashes across Agir's face.
 
Agir says with a Targossas accent, "What would happen if I walked there? Would
they kill me?"
 
You say to Agir with a harsh Western accent, "The red fog of Mhaldor Isle kills
all plant life save the carnivorous lycopods. It comes from the blood of
believers shed upon the stalagmites below the mountain."
A Shornwall defender tilts her head and listens intently to you.
 
Yazmine gives Agir the once over.
 
You say to Agir with a harsh Western accent, "They probably wouldn't, as you
are a novice, but would likely tell you to leave."
 
You say to Agir with a harsh Western accent, "Also, the lycopods would kill
you."
 
Yazmine nods her head at you.
 
Yazmine says to Agir in a smooth, melodic voice, "You probably couldn't get
past the lycopods to get to the gates anyways."
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "Maybe when you are bigger."
 
Yazmine's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Lycopods attack Mhaldorians and
non-Mhaldorians alike. Anything with meat on it, that moves, they kill and
eat."
 
Yazmine nods her head at you.
 
Agir says with a Targossas accent, "What is or who is lycopods?"
 
Cadmius smiles with a wink and says to Agir in a silky, slightly accented
voice, "Wait until you are older and Mhaldor is being raided."
A Shornwall defender's ears perk up as her attention turns towards Cadmius.
 
Yazmine grins mischievously at Cadmius.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Large carnivorous plants, native to the
Isle."
 
Agir shrugs helplessly.
 
Cadmius says in a silky, slightly accented voice, "Or you have that serpent
skill that lets you phase."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Personally, I think foreign novices are
too fearful of lycopods, but you have no pressing reason to go to the city."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I always found them to be excellent
training for our Tormented-- the Naga equivalent of Initiates."
 
Agir shakes his head.
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "Other than being nosey, and that is
not a good reason."
 
Agir says with a Targossas accent, "I don't."
 
Yazmine twiddles her thumbs.
 
Agir says with a Targossas accent, "No reason."
A Shornwall defender's ears perk up as her attention turns towards Agir.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "They teach you to be quick on your feet,
aware of your surroundings, and to persevere through pain and discouragement."
 
Agir laughingly says with a Targossas accent, "I can't even finish quests
here."
 
Yazmine chuckles long and heartily.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "It's not a pleasant place. You're not
missing much."
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "I envy you the ability to be
distracted."
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "I wish that I could be sometimes."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "A good portion of their library is found
on the Isle of Ram, anyhow."
 
Agir says with a Targossas accent, "I read some books."
 
Agir says with a Targossas accent, "Mhun's history was interesting."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Yes."
 
Yazmine scratches her head, looking for an idea.
 
Agir smiles and says with a Targossas accent, "Explains why I like water so
much."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I'd advise you to avoid the Orphan's
Tale, if you find yourself in the tholos of Research. It really needs to be
moved or removed."
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "Wasn't there some notation about a
thing, or place, still there? Something about a podium, or altar thingy?"
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Hm?"
 
Yazmine scratches her head, looking for an idea.
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "Somewhere, in the corners of my mind,
I remember reading something about an altar still in Moghedu."
 
Yazmine shakes her head.
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "Oh well, I am sure if it is important
it will come to me."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "There are shrines in Moghedu, if you are
thinking of those."
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "Perhaps."
 
(Targossas): Aeryea says, "Hail the Dawn!"
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "It's a popular hunting spot, so it's
convenient for hunters to offer there."
 
Agir says with a Targossas accent, "Tell me about the "Hail" history, would
you?"
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "It's a greeting."
 
(Targossas): Terron says, "Hail, Novitiate."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "'Hail the Dawn' respects our heritage,
and we respond also with respect."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Harbingers are expected to uphold
tradition in this manner, among others."
 
Comprehension flashes across Agir's face.
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "Moment."
 
Yazmine drifts away from the conversation, lost in her daydreams.
 
Agir says with a Targossas accent, "How did she do that?"
 
Agir tilts his head curiously at Yazmine.
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "How did I do what?"
 
You tell Yazmine, "He is still figuring out the world."
 
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "Ahh, I get dreamy sometimes,
apologies."
 
Yazmine's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.
 
Agir's mouth turns up as his face breaks into a smile.
 
Yazmine tells you, "Ohh, I see now."
 

Jiraishin

Yazmine scratches her head, looking for an idea.
 
You conjure up your illusion:
Dark stalagmites thrust up from the floor around you, black stone spreading
like water around them.
 
The halls of the Black Cathedral upon Baelgrim echo in solemn song with Koi's
death at the hands of Proficy, commemorating true Strength.
 
Yazmine says to you in a smooth, melodic voice, "I was reading one of the House
scrolls and it says we are to keep track of our own progress. Am I interpreting
that to mean I am responsible for making sure things are checked off?"
 
You conjure up your illusion:
An acrid red fog drifts all about as the cavern draws close.
 
Agir sits down.
 
You say to Yazmine with a harsh Western accent, "Yes. And logging them on the
House logs."
 
Yazmine blinks.
 
Agir shakes his head.
 
You conjure up your illusion:
Your surroundings warp, and the stalagmites retreat, changing into obsidian
paving stones.
 
Yazmine blinks.
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "You are not seeing these?"
 
Agir nods his head emphatically.
 
Yazmine tilts her head curiously.
 
You conjure up your illusion:
A fissure splits the paving stones open, volcanic heat blasting from within.
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "Jiraishin, are those your illusions?"
 
You conjure up your illusion:
Still the fog swirls, and in the distance you hear chants, and the crack of a
whip.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Of course they are."
 
The corners of Agir's lips turn upwards in an enigmatic half smile.
 
Yazmine gives a trillingly melodic laugh.
 
You conjure up your illusion:
Suddenly, a steep fortress looms above you, imposing vicious vertigo.
The chanting draws close.
 
Agir jumps back in surprise.
 
Agir stands up.
 
You conjure up your illusion:
Knights in black armour, their faces impassive, march down the street,
splitting to each side of the fissure. Behind them, shadows flicker.
 
You conjure up your illusion:
And then the shadows are behind you, and a dirk kisses your neck, to the sound
of a Mhun's laughter.
 
You conjure up your illusion:
Pain, and then the city of Targossas is around you once again, unchanged.
 
Yazmine congratulates you with some wild clapping.
 
Agir shrugs helplessly.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Much better than speaking."
 
Yazmine says to you in a smooth, melodic voice, "That was brilliant, very well
done!"
 
You conjure up your illusion:
Far more abruptly than before, you are pulled into new surrounds-- a tower of
pure ivory.
 
Cadmius smiles and says in a silky, slightly accented voice, "I'll be a serpent
someday."
 
You conjure up your illusion:
Suddenly you find yourself on your knees. Above you is carved, shining ivory, bas-reliefs
of pain and coyotes and wasps.
 
The corners of Agir's lips turn upwards in an enigmatic half smile.
 
Yazmine blinks.
 
You conjure up your illusion:
And looking down at you is a God.
 
Agir sits down.
 
Cadmius snickers softly to himself.
 
You conjure up your illusion:
Garbed in cobalt robes, he smiles, reaching down. His hair is long and dark, 
reaching down his back.
 
Cadmius whispers in a silky, slightly accented voice, "Wasps."
 
You conjure up your illusion:
His features are perfect, composed, and charismatic. One eye is dark, perfectly
calm and assured, and you feel confidence grow with His regard.
 
Cadmius looks at Yazmine and swallows. He composes his face into a neutral
expression.
 
You conjure up your illusion:
Wasps buzz in your ears as, finally, you focus on His other eye, a crimson gem
that casts a deep glow over His face.
 
You conjure up your illusion:
He smiles, gently. And lowers his hand towards you, and you are pierced with
unaccountable terror.
 
Agir says with a Targossas accent, "Cadmius knew!"
 
You conjure up your illusion:
With a final flare of light and pain, the vision is gone, save for a brief
afterimage of cobalt at the edges of your vision.
 
You smile and say with a harsh Western accent, "My former Master."
 
Agir says with a Targossas accent, "This is great."
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "I had no idea what Lord Sartan looked
like."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "That is not Lord Sartan."
 
Yazmine tilts her head curiously.
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "Apologies, who is that then?"
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "My Master is dead. My Master was Lord
Apollyon."
 
Comprehension flashes across Yazmine's face.
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "I have not read of Him."
 
You have emoted: Jiraishin smiles thinly.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Long ago, the God of Evil was Dreadlord
Shaitan, alone."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Have you read of the coming of the
Morning Star? You will have to, for the House."
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "I have not yet no."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "The Morning Star gave birth to Lady
Aurora."
 
Comprehension flashes across Yazmine's face.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "The occurrence that led to that birth...
The collision of the vast star of Ethian, with the equally vast pit of Abbadon.
Which exploded, nearly ending this world."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Two Gods were born from that massive
upheaval, that nearly destroyed all life."
 
Yazmine scratches her head, looking for an idea.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Lady Aurora, the Lightbringer."
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "Lady Aurora and Lord Twilight
perhaps?"
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "And Her twin Brother. Apollyon, the
Malefactor."
 
Comprehension flashes across Yazmine's face.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Lord Shaitan invited the new God of Evil
to walk with Him, that they might talk."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Being young and naive --and this is
interesting, for most Gods are born with full knowledge of Their realm,
suggesting Apollyon had yet to find His, and this was a part of it-- the
Malefactor accepted."
 
Agir says with a Targossas accent, "Terrifying and fascinating at the same
time."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Yes."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Dreadlord Shaitan stabbed Apollyon in the
back. Literally and figuratively."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "He burned the young God into ashes and
consumed them, absorbing the Malefactor's essence."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "And it was... transformative. Shaitan was
Shaitan no longer."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "This was the first birth of Lord Sartan."
 
Comprehension flashes across Yazmine's face.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "But. Lord Apollyon was not yet truly
done."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Know you of Lady Keresis?"
 
Yazmine says in a smooth, melodic voice, "I have heard Her name spoken, but I
cannot place Her."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "The Goddess of Vengeance. Once a
Dreadlord under Shaitan's command, in ancient wars."
 
Comprehension flashes across Yazmine's face.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "She became a Goddess in Her own right,
and one day Sartan summoned her to the caves beneath Mhaldor Isle, where the
red fog rises."
A Shornwall defender tilts his head and listens intently to you.
 
Agir moves in place to sit himself more comfortable as he listens to Jiraishin.
 
(Targossas): Lii says, "Hail the Dawn."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "A final task for Her, for Her old
loyalty's sake."
 
(Targossas): You say, "Hail, Herald."
 
(Targossas): Iloisee says, "Hail, Herald."
 
(Targossas): Voka says, "Hail!"
 
(Targossas): Yazmine says, "Hail, Herald."
 
(Targossas): Starlina says, "Hail, Herald."
 
(Targossas): Agir says, "Hail!"
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "To take Her sacred blade and cut Him in
two."
 
(Devouts): Lii says, "Hail the Dawn, Harbingers."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "For, you see, Lord Apollyon was never
truly dead. He was... learning."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Learning of his realm, which was
Suffering."
 
(Devouts): Herev says, "Hail, Herald."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "The Goddess cut Sartan in two, back into
Apollyon and Shaitan."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "But neither were as They were before."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Shaitan, no longer the primal Dreadlord,
now the God of Oppression."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Apollyon, no longer merely a Malefactor,
the God of Suffering. With the Ultimate Wounding forever burning in His eye."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "As you saw."
 
Yazmine nods her head at you.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "During the time of the Worldreaver... the
Gods fought. And Evil fought for the Worldreaver, seeking to use it."
 
Agir's big eyes grow larger as he continues to listen.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "The Gods fought, and Pentharian the God
of Valour met Lord Apollyon in battle."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "And cleaved the Suffering God into
pieces. I... remember that. There were great storms after, filled with Divine
force."
 
It is now the 13th of Aeguary, 781 years after the fall of the Seleucarian
Empire.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Like tears of rage, I thought."
 
(Devouts): Lii says, "How are you?"
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "And once again, Shaitan consumed His
fellow. Forever this time, for Apollyon was too wounded to live."
 
Agir whispers with a Targossas accent, "Wow."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "And now Sartan rules again, on the Red
Isle."
 
(Devouts): Aeryea says, "Hail, Herald!"
 
(Devouts): Voka happily says, "Im great, everyone is super quiet today."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "It is important to remember that the God
of Suffering existed, for His lessons remain in the Mhaldorians and they are
very dangerous."
 
Yazmine nods her head at you.
 
(Devouts): Yazmine says, "I am well, I am learning much from Jiraishin."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Shaitan, brute betrayals aside, was never
a subtle God. His symbol was the black hand, and He used it as a mailed fist."
A Shornwall defender tilts his head and listens intently to you.
 
(Devouts): Lii says, "Oh?"
 
Lii arrives from the north.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Apollyon was... beautiful. As you saw.
Calm and purpose and pride. But what lies within would take you apart and you
would not like what was remade."
 
You bow respectfully to Lii.
 
Lii leaves to the west.
 
Agir blinks.
 
Lii arrives from the west.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "All that is good... inverted."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Beware of that, the things that look
beautiful and fascinating."
 
(Devouts): Yazmine says, "Yes, he made mention of how the Morning Star gave
birth to Lady Aurora, as well as other things."
 
Agir exhales deeply.
 
Lii stands quietly to the side, listening.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Someone might use illusions like mine to
lead you to the Isle, rather than away from it. But I know what lies at its
heart."
 
Yazmine says to you in a smooth, melodic voice, "You have taught us much this
day, and given much to think on as well."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I recall a quote, from one of the texts of Suffering
intended for our equivalent of the Crusaders."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "'They think you are their friend, and in
truth you are, for you lead them to the paths of Despair and that is where the
truth lies'."
 
Agir pulls his legs to his chest to move to a more comfortable sitting
position.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Remember where that path leads. And don't
walk it."
 
You have emoted: Jiraishin nods abruptly.

Taryius

Had some fun RP sparring and RP combat lessons with one of Taryius' newest proteges! Really, had a blast!

With a solemn nod towards Auryn, Taryius forms a crackling whip of pure flame, and sends it to scourge her flesh.

The young mhun's skin blackens and burns, as she screams in agony.

The mhun jumps backwards as the flame strikes her, her eyes narrowing at you as she stretches her arms. With a quick dart of her arm, Auryn's fingers brush against a shield tattoo before quickly applying a small bit of salve to her blackened flesh.

As the invisible barrier forms around the mhun, her blackened skin slowly starts to dissipate with the salve application.

You say in a harsh, rasping voice, "Yes. Good. Recovering quickly!"

You say in a harsh, rasping voice, "Your opponent will press their offense, always. Do not fear

them, embrace the fight."

You say in a harsh, rasping voice, "Now, give me an attack, Adherent. Use your strengths and strike soundly."

The small mhun can't help but offer a small smile before she takes another step back, the barrier surrounding her dissolving into nothing, before she disappears into the shadows. Silently, Auryn circles behind you, her fingers tightly gripping a Mhaldorian dirk before she appears. secreting a venom onto the blade before plunging it into the grook's back.

As the blade pierces the Subjugator's skin, his muscles tense as he's frozen in place.

Evidently straining against his paralysed muscles, Taryius lips turn up into a nearly imperceptible grin as he intones, "Excellent".

Eyes shut in concentration Taryius begins to the channel primal fire from within, tiny beads of sweat breaking out upon his body as he purges the foreign substance. Within moments, his muscles unlock and gestures towards Auryn, conjuring a gust of turbulent wind that strikes the young mhun.

Auryn flies through the air, colliding against the Estate walls with a loud "THUD".

You say in a harsh, rasping voice, "You are a serpent, Adherent. Your tricks lie in your nimble actions, and quick movement."

You say in a harsh, rasping voice, "Do not be afraid to try and attack from a distance as well with a well timed strike from your lash, or an arrow from your bow."

Auryn starts to wield a darkbow in her hands.

The serpent winces quietly as she runs an arm across her mouth, a trickle of crimson staining her skin. She deftly rolls forward back to her feet, her dirk sliding into its sheathe as Auryn grasps a darkbow, taking careful aim at you before letting an arrow loose.

The arrow strikes the grook in the side with a wet 'thwap,' his complexion taking a pale turn as he coughs up black bile.

With a slight chuckle, Taryius wipes the black liquid away from his mouth, clutching his stomach in pain as he does so.

You say in a harsh, rasping voice, "A solid blow."

As his skin starts to turn jaundice, Taryius quickly rummages through a leviathan skin pack, before withdrawing a vial of black oak. With haste, he downs the contents of the vial, shuddering slightly as the foreign toxin is purged from his system.

Muttering an arcane word to himself, Taryius coats his fist in a layer of solid granite before swinging a well-aimed punch towards Auryn's torso.

The 'crunch' of bone can be heard as Taryius' fist strikes the young mhun, who quickly doubles over in pain.

You say in a harsh, rasping voice, "You are improving on your assault, Adherent. Keep up, a true Legate strikes down their enemies just as much as they defend themselves."

"Oof," escapes the serpent's lips as she staggers backwards, her free hand pressing against the wall behind her as she glances up at you from her new position. Bent over with one arm clutching her stomach in pain, she straightens before letting the bow slide back into its baldric, a vicious, western lash slipping between Auryn's fingers, her knuckles turning white as she tightens her grip. The woman evades behind the Subjugator before she lashes out with her whip. The leather cord tightening around the grook's wrist.

The mhun pulls sharply on her lash, bringing the grook down onto his back.

With his other hand, Taryius grabs tightly onto the lash and pulls, creating enough slack to free his entangled wrist which subsequently takes hold of the leather weapon. With a grunt of excertion, Taryius yanks upon the whip.

Maintaining her grip on a vicious, western lash, Auryn is pulled of her feet by the force and stumbles to the ground.

You say in a harsh, rasping voice, "Sometimes your attacks can be turned on yourself, Adherent. Be prepared for this."

As Auryn stumbles to the ground, her fingers deftly reach for her dirk. Brushing the weapon across her mouth, she secretes a venom intermingling with the blood escaping her lips, before she plunges the weapon into your chest as she falls to her knees.

A masque of agony crosses the grook's features as the blade punctures his chest, a shiver radiating across his body before the allergy to the sun relapses.

Auryn says in Mhaldorian in a soft, smooth voice, "That is what I was hoping would happen, Subjugator."

Taryius' lips flick up in faint amusement.

Taryius reaches into a sleek velvet pouch as his skin begins to blister, and burn from the nearby light. He quickly withdraws a small rust-red flake which he pops into his mouth, before uttering a sigh of relief.

Rising to his feet, Taryius gestures to a crystalline golem which takes full advantage of Auryn's prone form by stepping painfully upon her left leg.

The 'crack' of snapping bone echoes as Auryn's leg is visibly bent out shape, a scream from the young mhun soon accompanying.

Auryn slowly makes her way to the wall as her breathing becomes laboured from the movement, a small tear running down her cheek. Using the structure as support, she props herself against it before rummaging through her satchel, her hand withdrawing with a strange coloured goo before she slathers it over her leg, sighing in relief as it partially heals. The mhun glances over at you before slipping into the shadows, disappearing from view, before she quickly applies another salve to her broken limb.

As her leg heals, Auryn steps back into view.

You say in a harsh, rasping voice, "You did well, against a foe not particularly keen on dodging your blows. Continue to practice, Adherent. You show a capacity for quick learning, and plenty of potential."

Auryn nods her head once.

You say in a harsh, rasping voice, "Let the pain of your injuries remind you to grow stronger!"

Auryn says in Mhaldorian in a soft, smooth voice, "Through Hardship is His will endured."

Auryn

I definitely could have worded those a lot better, but this was definitely fun for Auryn's first time in ceremonial/ritual dueling, even if it was just training.

Jiraishin

Jiraishin is actually a pretty nice person when he doesn't think anyone can see him. Especially to animals.

Garden of Memorials.

Casting a sombre shadow across the horizon, the Monument of the Fallen rises

gracefully overhead. A runic totem is planted solidly in the ground. There are

6 gold and black candles here. There are 3 lit gold and black candles here.

Resting atop a nearby perch, an bedraggled raven gazes upon the surroundings.

You see exits leading south and west.

 

You have emoted: Jiraishin narrows his eyes at a bedraggled raven.

 

Ebony black feathers cover the sleek body of this large raven, clothing it in a

mantle as dark as midnight. A long, hooked black beak extends between eyes that

glisten with considerable intelligence, and sharp talons extend from its

leathery feet. Its largest feathers extend from its wings in long

flight-bearing pinions, while much smaller, softer plumage covers it underside

and head. An occasional half-molted, whitish feather protudes from the glossy

mass, hinting at the bird's relative youth and lending it a distinctly unkempt

air.

A bedraggled raven appears to lack strength.

He has 100% health remaining.

He weighs about 50 pounds.

You see nothing in it.

 

You have emoted: Cautiously, Jiraishin extends a gauntleted hand to a

bedraggled raven.

 

A bedraggled raven squawks loudly at you and peers down at you.

 

You have emoted: Jiraishin peers back at a bedraggled raven, lowering his

hand.

 

You say to a bedraggled raven with a harsh Western accent, "Where did you come

from?"

 

You have emoted: Jiraishin holds out his hand again in a coaxing manner.                                                                       

 

A bedraggled raven puffs up its plumage briefly as the rain begins to fall,

drawing further into its alcove by a pillar.

 

You say with a harsh Western accent, "Are you hungry?"

 

You remove 1 meat, bringing the total in the rift to 585.

 

A bedraggled raven looks at you blankly. Apparently it isn't intelligent enough

to realise what a great treasure you are trying to bestow upon it.

 

You have emoted: Jiraishin holds out a piece of meat to a bedraggled raven.

 

With sudden interest, a bedraggled raven's beady gaze fixates on your offering.

 

You have emoted: Jiraishin holds very still, holding the piece of meat in front

of him.

 

Hopping from its perch to briefly mount the Monument of the Fallen and then a

nearby tree, a bedraggled raven paces warily towards you, eyes never leaving

the meat.

 

You say softly with a harsh Western accent, "Here, eat, and we'll go indoors

and we'll get you dried off."

 

You have emoted: Jiraishin stays very still, despite the rain falling on him.

 

Drawing to within inches of your outstretched offering, a bedraggled raven

suddenly spots distant movement out over the Silverveil and takes flight,

screeching its disappointment for all to hear.

 

Fluttering away with little fanfare, a bedraggled raven soars off somewhere

else.

Jiraishin

This thread is retreated to the second page of Discussions and that's not good. So I guess I'll post an old log. Guys, please don't let this thread die, it provided me so much good reading material back in the day

This is from wayyy back, when Jiraishin was Mhaldorian. He traded taunts a lot with this particular Nihilist Serpent, and this is the first conversation they had after Jiraishin's Patron died during the Bal'met event.

Corbeaux tells you, "Your silence over the last many months hasn't escaped my
notice, Nagaraja. You've certainly been brought low."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "I am surprised you pay attention."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "I wish I had some way to kill you, Nihilist."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "Not so that you return from Maya's Halls. Death."
 
Corbeaux tells you, "Surprised I pay attention? Surely most of Sapience watched
as your God finally met the suffering end He wished for, or perhaps, was too
weak to defend against."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "Not to Him. To me."
 
Corbeaux tells you, "Ah, well, I like to know what you're up to. Sometimes."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "I am sick of this."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "I want you to suffer. I want everything to
suffer."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "I want everything that breathes to weep."
 
Corbeaux tells you, "Be comforted, fellow child of Loki, that your father lies
in the Void where we shall all return to."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "He does not. He did not die to Chaos, and I know
not what happened to His essence."
 
Corbeaux tells you, "A wishful, clinging, and remorseful response. I'll allow
ignorance in your time of grief, though."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "Wishful? For what? Clinging? To what? Remorseful?
What use do I have for -remorse-?"
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "I wish only that my power was greater."
 
Corbeaux tells you, "At least, for the time being, I'll be able to watch you in
Mhaldor better. I was always bored when you'd retreat to your temple."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "I will make sure to have a warm reception ready."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "I think my only consolation might be watching your
own God be devoured. The irony would be almost amusing."
 
Corbeaux tells you, "You'll find that impossible, really. Unlike your God,
whose worth extended only to the fools on Sartan's Isle, Sarapis personally
gave the Elder God Babel a purpose to control the wide realm of Chaos. And
unlike your father's realm, Chaos has proven to be unstoppable even for the
Logos."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "Who says your God and His purpose are the same? My
God is dead, but Suffering lives, I can tell you that."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "And even those of the Pentad may fall."
 
Corbeaux tells you, "The irony is that your own actions in hailing Bal'met's
machinations brought about the ruin of your father. A mortal, turned God,
destroyed the icon of suffering."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "Why do you keep referring to Him as my father?"
 
Corbeaux tells you, "A symbolic gesture. Pay it no mind if your relationship
with your Lord was so distant. You can replace the term with Master, for all I
care."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "As for irony-- what do I care?"
 
Corbeaux tells you, "It doesn't matter if you do or not. It's an amusing twist,
nonetheless."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "When your certainty is destroyed, I will smile."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "Nothing that you trust in is invincible."
 
Corbeaux tells you, "You've undoubtedly learned that your precepts are not set
in stone, Nagaraja. Perhaps this will open your eyes to the ever fluid ways of
Chaos. Nothing is sure, nothing is sacred. All return to the Void, even though
they might rattle on about Strength, Suffering, and Creation."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "Your trust is all the deeper because you think you
trust in Nothing."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "I look forward to seeing you break."
 
Corbeaux tells you, "Oh, you'll see me break. And tear. When Ruin finally
overtakes us all. Only, at that point, I shall be the one smiling."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "Not your body. Your certainty."
 
Corbeaux tells you, "You've still a chance to accept my Lord as your new
Master, brother. Now that you've seen the desolate fruit that Evil brings, open
your eyes and join me."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "So certain. So confident."
 
You tell Corbeaux al-Aqrab, "Your Lord should die, Corbeaux."
 
Corbeaux tells you, "Hah."

Farrah

Omg. I miss Corbeaux. He was my serpent apprentice.

Aegoth

But... Apples just became Sartan again. Who cares?

Jiraishin

Aegoth said:

But... Apples just became Sartan again. Who cares?

Well... Firstly, this conversation took place before the re-meld into Sartan happened. There was a period of Achaean months after Apples died where there were dark ominous storms of Divine essence before the Sartan event happened.

Secondly... In answer to your question, Jir definitely cares a lot. 

Vika

Verrucht says in an urbane voice, "Thank you all for coming to Esquire Vika's Accolade."

 03:06:44.80

Verrucht says in an urbane voice, "For those who are not aware, the Order of Thurisaz is an ancient

institution that dates back to the times of Guilds. The Runewardens and then the Wardens of the 

Cerulean Spire both housed the Order of Thurisaz, a place that epitomised those who served their 

Guild, House and city. Though we saw the Wardens of the Cerulean Spire disappear, what was left 

standing was the Order of Thurisaz. Now a place where those who wish to serve their city with 

distinction and take up the age old path of Cyrenian Knighthood may seek a different challenge."

 03:07:00.66

Shirszae takes a drink from a black-walnut vial.

 03:07:28.60

Verrucht says in an urbane voice, "This Accolade is the result of following that path, and

challenging one's self. Knighthood."

 03:07:45.71

Verrucht faces forward, his face unusually somber as he scans the crowd with a wary gaze, his eyes

narrowing slightly as he finds his intended target, unable to stop a slight grin from creasing his 

face, calling out in a clear voice, "Vika. Step forward."

 03:07:59.84

Vika gives a small, nervous exhale before nodding once and taking a step forwards

closer to Verrucht and Voc.

 03:08:57.90

Verrucht says loudly in an urbane voice, "Vika has been called to serve as a Knight of Cyrene. Who

will speak for her?"

 03:09:12.90

Roselyn steps forward, "I think Vika has done a wonderful job at her tasks, she met each one with

all her energy and then some. It's not a lie to say I went harder on her than anyone else and she 

rose to each occasion spectacularly."

 03:10:57.76

Verrucht nods as Roselyn speaks.

 03:11:21.41

Verrucht says to you in an urbane voice, "As the result of your efforts and in response to the

wishes of your peers, you have been called to serve the Heart of the Vashnars. To be a Knight is to 

be a servant of the people, one that places the city of Cyrene and Her citizens above all else. It 

requires that you walk a higher path, demanding much and rewarding little, save for the satisfaction 

in a duty well-fulfilled."

 03:11:43.41

Verrucht says to you in an urbane voice, "Please kneel and recite this oath to your people."

 03:12:06.51

Vika gives a single nod, falling to one knee and looking to Verrucht.

 03:12:38.45

Verrucht says to you in an urbane voice, "I hereby swear fealty to the city of Cyrene. In all things, 

in all ways, the city of Cyrene and my service to Her will come foremost."

 03:12:59.85

You say in a soft-spoken voice, "I hearby swear fealty to the city of Cyrene. In all things, in all

ways, the city of Cyrene and my service to Her will come foremost."

 03:13:35.70

Verrucht says to you in an urbane voice, "I will keep the Ethos of Cyrene and the Order of Thurisaz.

I will strive to do what is right and just, to place character above wealth, to be faithful to my 

comrades, and to speak truth. In all things may Cyrene depend on me, for duty, humility, and service 

govern the path I walk."

 03:13:50.10

You say in a soft-spoken voice, "I will keep the Ethos of Cyrene and the Order of Thurisaz. I will

strive to do what is right and just, to place character above wealth, to be faithful to my comrades, 

and to speak truth. In all things may Cyrene depend on me, for duty, humility, and service govern 

the path I walk."

 03:14:52.13

Verrucht says to you in an urbane voice, "I will keep my blades honed and sharp, to better defend

those who cannot defend themselves. The lifeblood of Cyrene is Her citizens and always will I be at 

their side in need. In peace and war, I will be the sword upon which Cyrene's enemies fall."

 03:14:58.23

You say in a soft-spoken voice, "I will keep my blades honed and sharp, to better defend those who

cannot defend themselves. The lifeblood of Cyrene is Her citizens annd always will I be at their 

side in need. In peace and war, I will be the sword upon which Cyrene's enemies fall."

 03:16:15.15

Verrucht says to you in an urbane voice, "So swear I, Vika, upon my life and my soul."

 03:16:23.48

You say in a soft-spoken voice, "So swear I, Vika, upon my life and my soul."

 03:16:48.97

Verrucht smiles softly.

 03:16:57.07

The Sword of Riparium rings out brightly as Verrucht rapidly draws it from a shark-leather scabbard

lined with opals.

 03:16:59.55

Verrucht says to you in an urbane voice, "Bear these blows and no others."

 03:17:09.94

Moving with a fluid grace, Verrucht gently taps you on the left shoulder with the flat of the blade

and states, "In remembrance of oaths sworn and received."

 03:17:24.85

Lifting the sword up briefly, Verrucht taps you on the right shoulder a bit more firmly as he states, 

"In remembrance of duty and obligations."

 03:17:40.64

Verrucht says happily in an urbane voice, "Rise as a new sister in an honoured order of Knights,

Dame Vika!"

 03:17:51.21

You will now be known as Dame Vika Desmijr, by order of Sir Verrucht Dawyn, Hand of Neraeos.

 03:17:56.59

Voc beams broadly.

 03:18:00.96

Vika stands up, unable to hold back her smile.

 03:18:03.83

Verrucht says in an urbane voice, "This is where you all cheer."

 03:18:07.02

Voc gives you a respectful salute.

 03:18:08.71

Niyah cheers wildly!

 03:18:09.98

Dochitha says in a clear voice, "Dame Vika!"

 03:18:10.52

Roselie gives you a wild cheer!

 03:18:10.82

Siduri gives you a wild cheer!

 03:18:11.79

Dochitha cheers wildly!

 03:18:12.14

Easo cheers wildly!

 03:18:12.32

Onofor cheers wildly!

 03:18:12.35

Aereidhna gives an enthusiastic "Huzzah!" at the top of her voice, pumping her arms in the air.

 03:18:12.40

Dochitha cheers wildly!

 03:18:12.54

Dyamond cheers wildly!

 03:18:12.76

Dochitha cheers wildly!

 03:18:12.78

Kayeil cheers wildly!

 03:18:13.02

Perl cheers wildly!

 03:18:13.36

Laedha gives you a wild cheer!

 03:18:13.41

Dyamond cheers wildly!

 03:18:13.87

Kythra gives you a wild cheer!

 03:18:13.92

Dyamond cheers wildly!

 03:18:14.54

Dyamond cheers wildly!

 03:18:15.14

Zazi stands up.

Zazi applauds you heartily.

 03:18:15.76

Aivilyn cheers wildly!

 03:18:16.41

Voc says in a gruff, baritone voice, "Well done, Dame Vika."

 03:18:16.95

Armali gives you a wild cheer!

 03:18:17.56

Auria cheers wildly!

 03:18:17.81

Kaden nods his head emphatically.

 03:18:19.82

Shirszae smiles warmly and applauds you.

 03:18:22.95

Niyah applauds you heartily.

 03:18:23.13

Aereidhna tells you, "You are such an inspiration! Thank you for all your hard work."

 03:18:24.99

Pythagoras cheers wildly!

 03:18:28.75

Eril gives you a respectful salute.

 03:18:29.22

Roselyn smiles brightly at you.

 03:18:29.73

You happily tell Aereidhna, "Thank you!"

 03:18:31.09

Tarvius says in a clear voice, "Congratulations."

 03:18:31.32

Keorin offers a happy round of applause.

 03:18:31.41

Melodie offers a warm round of applause for you.

 03:18:33.74

(Cyrene): Roselie says, "All our respect and love to our newest Dame, Vika!"

 03:18:39.41

You feel a sudden burning sear through your arm. Motes of light waver into view before settling into

sacred tritonic passages, a sign of the Thalassan God-King's approval.

(svof): Your max health increased by 315h/6% to 5460.

 03:18:46.04

(Cyrene): Aereidhna says, "Huzzah to Dame Vika!"

 03:18:47.03

Siduri throws her hat in the air before nimbly catching it.

 03:18:47.96

(Cyrene): Perl says, "Huzzah!"

 03:18:51.44

A festive explosion of chimes extols gaily from the clock tower, as melodious carillon bells play a

Cyrenian folk tune of celebration.

 03:18:54.15

Vika wipes the tears from her eyes, giving a smile towards everyone gathered.

 03:18:56.32

A festive explosion of chimes extols gaily from the clock tower, as melodious carillon bells play a

Cyrenian folk tune of celebration.

 03:18:57.04

(Cyrene): Auria says, "Huzzah!"

 03:18:58.22

A festive explosion of chimes extols gaily from the clock tower, as melodious carillon bells play a

Cyrenian folk tune of celebration.

 03:18:59.86

Roselie gives you a compassionate hug.

 03:19:01.64

Aereidhna's face lights up with joy as she beams at you.

 03:19:02.39

Neraeos, God of the Sea says to you, "Wear it with Pride."

 03:19:04.11

You say in a soft-spoken voice, "Thank you everyone."

 03:19:08.26

Roselyn tells you, "I'm proud of you, truly. You did so well without much guidance and are simply

amazing, Dame."

 03:19:08.99

Roselie's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.

 03:19:11.84

You say to Neraeos in a soft-spoken voice, "Thank you, Lord."

 03:19:11.92

Aivilyn flashes you a joyous smile.

 03:19:12.27

Armali exclaims with an aristocratic, Hashani accent, "Here here!"

 03:19:14.97

(Cyrene): Aivilyn says, "Congrats!"

 03:19:18.76

Verrucht says in an urbane voice, "In the Paladins, we would shout something about Evil having

something to fear with a new Paladin Knight."

 03:19:24.49

Verrucht says in an urbane voice, "I think in Cyrene, a lack of shouting is entirely appropriate."

 03:19:36.66

"Heh heh heh," Aereidhna chuckles.

 03:19:39.67

Eril chuckles long and heartily.

 03:19:46.55

Verrucht says in an urbane voice, "However, those who come to do us harm, will find Dame Vika

waiting."

 03:19:50.97

Cerys

This is not a log, but an old self reflective essay Cerys turned in for his final house project. Insidium was a great time in my life and while I cannot play as much, I thought I would share as a tribute to both Stheno and Alasiel:

1. It is early in the morning and I am alone, huddled beneath a woven blanket on a butter yellow chair. The room is empty and perfect for a bought of self reflection, the kind that flirted with me during too much wine with a questionable companion. However, there was no pretty soul to whisper my thoughts to so this piece of parchment paper will have to do.
2.  
3. Growing up, my greatest desire on Sapience, apart from a periwinkle dressing gown, a nice feathered hat, and matching gloves, was to see life as colourfully as my mother did. I was a sheltered child, my living quarters a mark of my privilege, with its lavender walls pressed with sunny daisies and canopied bed swathed in bright silks. My every fashionable whim was met with "He. Must. Have. That." in her usual dramatic tone, but even those memories don't hold a candle to the way she told a story.
4.  
5. Every night, I remember the warmth in her sunrise eyes as she reenacted her tales, inventing the dialogue with pure conviction. She taught me how to see my surroundings in a dizzying array of colour and when she eventually left home for her old life in Mhaldor, that colour bled into my profession. As a budding tailor, my master continued to indulge my passion by having me work on projects he deemed worthy of my whimsy.
6.  
7. Eventually, I grew of age when I wanted to rediscover the one who inspired my muse. And so I left behind my ever revolving collection of throw rugs and beaded curtains to join her in the Mhaldor with this idealized version of what it would look like. However this version did not match reality and I would quickly discover that the only colours pervading my new home was a lot of red and black patterns. It was hideous and I was going to be the unconventional youth confined to it all.
8.  
9. "It's for a good cause…" I'd say, duplicating my well rehearsed sigh of despair, knowing fully that the only thing keeping me from rending the fabric with the nearest pair of shears was her. The desire to please her and the desire to be my true self collided for several years as I wallowed in self pity, refusing to share in the new culture.
10.  
11. Instead, my presence was constantly found within the comfortable walls of Targossas where I met this genuine young leader with the prettiest smile. Between the exchanged letters and hushed conversations, she became my newest comfort and distraction from the weariness that smothered my creativity. For a short period of my life, she became my muse and my driving courage to become honest about my convictions which I thought would not be received well by my superiors.
12.  
13. Fortunately, my fears were misguided and once I informed my superiors about my doubts of my place in His society they were quick to prove me wrong. It was then when I realised that I was so focused on the perceived colours of my surroundings that I had forgotten that my mother's gift to me was the ability to see them in a whole new light. The ability to permeate my own.
14.  
15. I will be honest when I admit that I missed out on ten years of beautiful discovery because of my naïve perspective. Since then, my mind and heart has opened up to the possibility of finding a place through different conversations with my peers and superiors. They were not uninspired as I imagined them to be; no, they were fabulous threads in the tapestry of Evil that are too strong to cut with even the sharpest of shears. I am pleased to have been proven wrong.

Iloisee

Although the subject of discussion may be bland to most, Herev's roleplay was too funny not to share with the world. Also, this thread shouldn't be buried. 

Herev says in a quiet, passionate voice, "Iloisee."

Iloisee nods to Bimsly.

Iloisee smiles and says to Bimsly in a quiet, passionate voice, "I'll be okay."

Herev wrinkles his nose, eyes watering.

Bimsly nods his head emphatically.

Herev covers his mouth and sneezes.

Herev says, "Damn indigo fields."

Bimsly says in a rough, guttural voice, "I just be over there."

Iloisee says, "Oh, right... should we move?"

Herev sniffs sharply.

Bimsly points west.

Herev says, "No, I'm fine."

Herev covers his mouth and sneezes.

Bimsly leaves to the west.

Herev creases his brow in a frown.

Iloisee rubs her arm awkwardly, glancing around.

Herev sniffs sharply and glances downward, a shadow across his face.

Sinking gracefully within the sky, the silvery moon concedes to the approaching dawn and a brush of aurulent light spreads over the land.

Herev says, "It is dawn."

Iloisee stares implacably at Herev.

Herev kneels in the direction of the rising sun. He adjusts the ragged remnant of a silk blindfold around his wrist, before pressing his forehead against the ground.

Herev covers his mouth and sneezes.

Herev chants, "Hail Righteous Fire! Hail Resplendent Light! Burn within me! Shine upon me!"

Herev covers his mouth and sneezes.

Herev nods to himself and rises to his feet, prepared to serve Them anew.

Milabar arrives from the east.

Iloisee coughs softly.

Iloisee says, "Are you sure you don't want to move?"

Herev coughs and subtly wipes his red nose on his cape.

Herev says, "I'm fine."

Iloisee nods her head at Herev.

Milabar stands quietly, crossing his arms and standing behind Herev a bit.

A shadow falls over Herev's countenance as he furrows his brow.

Herev looks up, bleary eyed, and stares at Milabar.

Iloisee says, "I refuse to acknowledge that I am an enemy of the Bloodsworn."

Herev says, "Then I'll say it. You are."

Iloisee says, "For my faith in Them has not faltered."

Herev says, "Good. Believe in Them all you want. You are not Theirs."

Iloisee shrugs slightly, biting her lip and narrowing her eyes.

Iloisee says, "I suppose you speak for Them."

Herev says to Milabar, "I should speak with my daughter alone."

Herev covers his mouth and sneezes.

Milabar says in a soft, passionate voice, "Why, what you have to say to her, is the same for me, do you not think?"

Herev coughs and subtly wipes his red nose on his cape.

Herev says, "No."

Herev says, "There is a fundamental difference between one who serves Them and dwells outside Their sacred walls, and one who is Their enemy."

Milabar says in a soft, passionate voice, "You have to be Targossian to be one of Theirs, otherwise you are no longer worthy of Their attention. That is the basic key to Targossas."

Herev says to Milabar, "And even if I felt the same about both of you, it would be right for me to sp...sp..spe."

Herev covers his mouth and sneezes.

Herev coughs softly.

Milabar says in a soft, passionate voice, "Enjoy your conversation."

Herev says, "Speak to my daughter alone."

Milabar says in a soft, passionate voice, "Duanathar."

Milabar is swiftly carried into the skies and out of sight by wings of a celestial phoenix.

Iloisee blinks.

Iloisee nods her head emphatically.

Herev sniffs sharply.

Herev says to you, "Do you have some explanation? Something I can grasp with my hands? Some way for me to see you as something besides the muck that the Bloodsworn cast out?"

Herev gives a pained sigh.

Herev says, "Tell me something Redemptive."

Herev glances at Iloisee, pleadingly.

Iloisee turns her gaze from Herev's, frowning.

Herev covers his mouth and sneezes.

Iloisee says, "For starters, the Bloodsworn did not cast me out."

Iloisee says, "The Prophet did, for reasons entirely to do with mortal foibles."

Herev says, "You never did understand the co-co---."

Herev covers his mouth and sneezes.

Herev says, "--nnection between the two."

Iloisee says, "I understand what I am meant to believe, and I cannot believe it."

Iloisee says, "But the effect is the same."

Iloisee looks at Herev and sighs wearily.

Herev sniffs sharply, and produces a gold handkerchief from the folds of his robes.

Iloisee says, "What have you heard regarding the events leading to my outcasting?"

Herev blows his nose.

Herev says, "Nothing."

Iloisee suppresses a grimace.

[[ Boring details cut to make this fit. ]]

Herev says, "You realize that you effectively proselytized against the Bloodsworn to a heretic? The opp--."

Herev covers his mouth and sneezes.

Herev says, "--pposite of Deliverance?"

Iloisee says, "The Bloodsworn deserve better representatives than what Targossas gives Them."

Herev blinks.

Iloisee nods slowly, realisation flashing across her face.

Herev says, "The Bloodsworn handpicked those who serve Them. I suspect They know what They want better than you do."

Herev stands taller, eyes blazing, nose running.

Herev says, "Lord Deucalion personally selected each Lumarch."

Herev says, "Lord Deucalion personally chose Prophet Mezghar to carry out His justice."

Herev sneezes violently, but continues talking.

Herev says, "My daughter is not only a traitor, and one who convinces the stray to go further astray."

Herev covers his mouth and sneezes.

Iloisee rubs Herev's spittle off of her face.

Herev says, "My daughter knows better than Lord Deucalion Himself."

Herev says, "The Bloodsworn deserve better representatives..."

Herev shakes his head.

Raising her face defiantly to meet Herev's eyes, Iloisee says, "They hand-picked you few, and then what?"

Iloisee says, "Who do They guide? Who do They watch? What feedback do They give?"

Herev says, "Their gaze never departs from Their city."

Iloisee says, "I do not feel the presence of the Bloodsworn in Targossas. Targossas feels abandoned."

Iloisee says, "And I see mortals making decisions that impact the paths of all Their devout."

Herev whispers, "It is no surprise that you do not feel it."

Iloisee says, "Do you recall Donotello?"

Iloisee tilts her head curiously at Herev.

Herev says, "We are speaking about you. Not Donotello."

Iloisee says, "Good, let us speak how those with fates like Donotello convinces me that Targossas is not led by the Bloodsworn any longer."

Herev glares angrily at you.

Herev says, "The Bloodsworn deserve better citizens. Which is why Their representatives cast out those who are not worthy to stand before Them. Those who cannot keep their hands and bodies off...married, no less?...Hashani cretins like Veilios. Those who, instead of carrying Their message to the heretics, give the heretics more reason to hate us."

Iloisee says, "A novice cast out on a whim, in the heat of anger, for some trite reason, and who has chosen to sleep the long sleep."

Herev says, "Let us not talk of novices and their sleep. Let us talk of something worse than a heretic. One who empowers heretics."

His mood noticeably darkening, Herev glowers sullenly at his surroundings.

Iloisee says, "Each of you empowers the heretics yourselves, each time you dismiss others, demean them."

Herev says, "An easy claim to make."

Iloisee says, "You don't interact outside your ivory walls."

Iloisee says, "I do, and I hear plenty of this already."

Iloisee says, "I don't need to inspire them, you give them plenty of material."

Herev says, "Perhaps you hear it because you bring it about in the first place."

Iloisee shakes her head.

Herev says, "A malcontent who complains and spouts bits of heresy, curiously finds herself surrounded by complaining heretics."

Iloisee says, "I have always been eager to discuss the theology and promise of Light with others."

Iloisee says, "And you know this, because you saw me step into hostility to discuss the failings of Chaos."

Herev says, "I saw you crumble before a bunch of amateurs."

Herev says, "You and the other silly fools, talking in half philosphies about perceived slights."

Hurt flashes across Iloisee's face before she narrows her eyes at Herev.

Herev says, "Petty little people. You walk among them. Occasionally sleep with them."

Herev covers his mouth and sneezes.

Iloisee says, "So you are a liar."

Herev says, "I was proud of your initiative. Your performance left much to be desired."

Iloisee drops her gaze and takes a shaky breath.

Iloisee says, "My performance?"

Herev says, "I have nothing left to be proud of. I raised something worse than that which we fight. An enemy who does not even know enough to know what she is breaking."

Iloisee raises her eyes to Herev's.

Herev shivers deeply, between a half sneeze.

Iloisee says, "You had nothing to be proud of, to begin with. What I learned of Good's enemies I learned from others. You have spoken nothing but circles around me in between your absences."

Iloisee says, "I sincerely hope you do not feel responsible for my state, because you were responsible for none of what came before, either."

Herev says, "I am certain your grandfather agrees."

Iloisee says, "And you can pretend at integrity all you wish."

Iloisee says, "But you housefavoured and cityfavoured me for what I did at Anost."

Iloisee says, "And now you call it crumbling."

Iloisee says, "Look deep within and tell me you sincerely believe you have been truthful in both situations."

Herev says, "But no, I take no responsibility for you, nor bear any relation to this disappointing, half-developed mind that flutters before me in a field of indigo. My Iloisee, who stood at Anost--amateur, but proud--is dead."

Iloisee says, "If that is Truth, then even the Light is fled."

Herev says, "I mourn my daughter. And hate whatever...this...is."

Herev covers his mouth and sneezes.

Iloisee tilts her head at Herev, narrow-eyed, and takes in the sight of him.

Iloisee says, "It's funny, because this is the most familiar way for you to be with me."

Herev shakes his head.

Herev says, "We are quite finished here."

Ilosiee tilts her head curiously at Herev.

Herev creases his brow in a frown.

Iloisee says, "You lie to yourself even now, compartmentalising in a magnificent way."

Herev wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, and turns east.

Iloisee says softly, "I pray that the voice of Aurora find you before you are too far gone."

Ygia

Here, have some bittersweet sadness regarding a departure of mentor and protege.

https://pastebin.com/kwkGr9Np

Ygia

Ygia needs a break from losses.

https://pastebin.com/4bJNSLX4

And then, right back into her usual self:

You sent the following message to Lii:

In admission to an erring of the Creed, this month I met with an enemy of Targossas. ...She... had been enemied due to accidental circumstances, and had wished to remain in Targossas if the error had not occured, but now is leaving the Realms for good. I wished to say my goodbyes. But explanation or not, on paper it is still an erring of the Creed, in fraternisation. ...What ought my penance be, Sister? I am not clear-minded on the subject enough to know.

Astarod

Hey @Ygia, you shouldn't feel down about the traits you feel your character lacks because these completely immersed moments are so beautiful and unique- fostered by RL weeks and months of RP compiling into these epic sendoffs. I swear that you should keep all of these written down somewhere, and release a book someday of your character's life and loss. Turn it into one of those things that novices have to read to understand certain beliefs or values of the city.

This whole thread has been so interesting and I've been watching it with great anticipation. Total respect!

Jiraishin

This log from yesterday isn't about life-changing events, and probably wouldn't make it into a novel about Jir's life... But RP chatter like this is what keeps me logging in.

Slight background: Mezghar and Issam Al'Jafri are Jiraishin's adopted brothers since a few IC years ago. And for the few people who don't know, Jiraishin used to be Mhaldorian, and has always been mhun.

[In a room with Farrah, Mezghar, Issam, and a random xorani Targ newb]

You say with a harsh Western accent, "I'm the only non-xoran in the room. Again."

 You mutter discontentedly.
 
Farrah pats you in a friendly manner.

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "And no, I'm not reincarnating. Ever."

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "Not that I have anything against xorani."

 Farrah says, "Xorani are drawn to the Flame, I believe. How could they not be?"

 Slowly gathering a lungful of air, Farrah pauses to enhance the glowing of her neck as it approximates the burning brightness of fiery embers.

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "Mhun are faster."

 Farrah frowns at you.

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "And have better eyesight."

 Farrah says, "Yes but."

 Farrah says, "We can do this."

 Farrah sucks in a huge lungful of air and blasts her fiery breath at you.
 You scream in agony as the horrific flames crackle over your melting flesh.
 You have been afflicted with burning.

 You take out some salve and quickly rub it on your torso.
 The raging fire about your skin goes out.
 You have cured the burning affliction.

 Farrah says, "And mhun simply burn."

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "Only if we stay put."

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "Besides, I don't have to set something on fire just to see in the dark."

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "Mhun are survivors."

 Farrah says, "Until they die."

 Farrah says, "Or are eaten."

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "I'll bet xoran leather makes excellent boots."

 Farrah frowns at you.

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "But it's harder to kill mhun, anyway. We are fast and stubborn. And don't stay dead."

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "Or else we'd be extinct by now."

 Farrah says, "I would pity the one who wore such boots."

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "Because of the horrific way you would kill them, I expect."

 Farrah says, "Yes. You are very perceptive."

 Mezghar leans on Farrah, seeking consolation.

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "See. That is my survival skills talking."
 A Shornwall defender tilts her head and listens intently to you.

You say with a harsh Western accent, "I definitely have a better family in Targossas. None of the Al'Jafris like mhun steak. As far as I know."

You say to Mezghar with a harsh Western accent, "Do you like mhun steak?"

 You say to Issam with a harsh Western accent, "Or you?"

 //1 minute silence

 Mezghar says to you in a rumbling, basso voice, "I only eat when LIi makes me."

 Occasional raindrops fall on your head as the drizzle continues.

 You say to Mezghar with a harsh Western accent, "She makes you eat mhun steak?"
 A Shornwall defender turns her attention towards you as her ears perk up in interest.

 Issam leaves to the northwest.

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "Issam left without answering me. I do not like the implications of this."

 Farrah's eyes sparkle with amusement.

 Farrah says, "You made him hungry."

 You mutter discontentedly.

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "Both my parents and my foster brother were very fond of mhun steak."

 Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "I have never eaten a mhun steak. However."

 Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "I imagine you in particular would be very bitter tasting, and potentially very tough."

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "Oddly enough, my foster brother said the same thing."

 You say with a harsh Western accent, "I doubt Serpents make very good steak anyway. I never remember to purge my venoms out of my blood."

Torinn

Ask Mezghar about his farm.  Also a good topic of conversation.

Jiraishin

Srs brotherly RP and rare character exposition.

Log has been edited slightly for length.

Mezghar tugs irritably at his earlobe, a dark frown creasing his worn features.
 
You have emoted: Jiraishin cocks his head to one side questioningly.
                                                               
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "People, brother. Always and forever, people."
 
You nod.
 
Mezghar rests one heavy hand companionably on your shoulder.
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "Not you, of course."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "If talking about it would help, I will listen."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Otherwise I am content to offer support in silence, as needed."
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "It is nothing of consequence, really. You knew I was fond of Iloisee. At least mildly. In the broadest terms I had hoped she might find out in the world that she was in fact, wrong. And perhaps then she would redeem herself one day. I see now that the hope was misplaced."
 
You nod.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I believe she seeks to join Mhaldor."
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "She does, yes."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "In the long run, I think that is the path most likely to lead her back to us."
 
Mezghar says wearily in a rumbling, basso voice, "Perhaps. I find myself... Hum."
 
Mezghar looks about himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "She needs discipline that we could not impose. If Mhaldor can instill those habits in her, through means we for moral reasons do not use, she may actually gain the clarity to see what must be done for Creation. Eventually."

You say with a harsh Western accent, "Or she will be our enemy, in which case our knowledge of her weaknesses will aid us."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Or she will simply fail, and be neither a resource nor a problem."
 
You have emoted: Jiraishin shrugs one shoulder.
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "I will speak bluntly."
 
You tilt your head and listen intently.
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "I wander between hope and indifference. Perhaps that is wrong of me. Perhaps they aren't the right terms, either. Indifferent in so far that people perceive Them, and Their mission, and yet... So easily dismiss it, and the threats we face. Makes me believe that they are truly dim and perhaps not worth the consideration, when the terms are given to them so plainly. Hope, in that I do wish them redeemed... But some I simply wish exterminated."
 
You have emoted: Jiraishin considers a moment.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I do understand, I think."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I will say that it took me two and a half centuries to get my head right and come here."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "You would not have liked me when I was younger. The paths people take are winding."
 
Mezghar nods.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "There are people I wish exterminated, though. I'm not sure if it's a personal failing or not, if it's a failure of my imagination, that I can't imagine them redeemed."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Most people, I think there's just not much I can do except stand back and protect what I can."
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "Perhaps this is why we are not Harbingers."
 
You nod your head emphatically.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I don't... really agree with the main Harbinger viewpoint, the efficacy of preaching with a view to convert."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I think words are better to reaffirm faith and to spread knowledge."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "But you can't... -give- someone redemption, I don't think."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I think the best you can do is show them what it looks like."
 
You shrug helplessly.
                                             
Mezghar nods at you.
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "I would agree with that, I think."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I don't think Iloisee is really in a place yet to understand service to Good, at least if I understand service to Good at all."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Her constant search was for personal validation."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "The idea of her own insignificance was upsetting to her. As it is to many people."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "She might have been useful, but she could not comprehend what was needed."
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "I don't think I have the mindset to be a Harbinger, in any case. The Bloodsworn have always been it, for me. All sacrifices made, blood spilled and tears given with that ideal at the forefront. And yes, I think that is why there was always a gap, when she and I spoke."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "My process of realisation was a lot more painful."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "So I have a great deal of sympathy for people like Iloisee, actually, at least in my calmer moments."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Not mercy, but sympathy."
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "How strange. I don't. And I often wonder if that is wrong, considering what is taught about redemption."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I don't know. I think it's hard to conceptualize what's alien to you. You said you always have had your purpose."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "When the Whisperer's phoenix died, Micaelis assumed I had some sort of emotional investment in its death. That I grieved for it, like he did. But I did not, except in the most distant, abstract way."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "He seemed to think that this was a function of my not yet being Targossian enough. Maybe it is."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "But I think it is because I have never met a phoenix."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Whereas I felt honest grief, and sorrow, for the death of the child acolyte Aucri. Because I could have been her."
 
Mezghar asks you in a rumbling, basso voice, "You believe its different for each person?"
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "That what is?"
 
Mezghar looks about himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
 
//silence
 
Mezghar asks in a rumbling, basso voice, "You were not saddened by the phoenix dying. I was. We were both sad about the child, although I had understood it was the outcome most likely to happen, in abstract terms. That is what Babel does. I had just not fully realized it in her case, but the assumption that her fate would be an unpleasant one seems in retrospect inevitable. You have sympathy for Iloisee and those like her, and I do not. That... Feeling. Perception?"
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Have you ever... had a near miss, seen something happen to someone and realised that could have been you?"
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "It's a more immediate feeling than just placing yourself in another's shoes."
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "Yes."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I think that's the difference. You see Aucri as... another person. I see my younger self."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Different city, different cult, and I was luckier."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "But if the Twin Lords had needed my blood for a ritual."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "My parents would have held me down and drained my life, just like Dunn did to her."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I didn't survive because I was a better person, or stronger. I survived because I was lucky. I survived long enough to grow up."
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "I think the difference."
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "I look at Evil and Darkness, and I know they are part of Creation, but I also know that they are... Wrong. Utterly so, and what they purport to do because it is necessary for an end goal, be it strength or more nebulous, is just as wrong and has no end that is correct. People subscribe to these, and I hear the reasons they give, in the abstract. But I also find it entirely foolish by the same token."
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "Chaos, even more so. For somewhat different reasons, considering its nature."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "It's easier to know this when everyone you trust does not assure you they are right."
 
Mezghar nods.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "And that your natural doubts are just a residual weakness, that will go away soon."
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "That is why I'm not a Harbinger, in the end, though. That is nonsense. It is difficult for me to look, and see anything but nonsense. I have no sympathy in that regard because it is obvious to me."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I made it into the Adikoi by the rule of thinking of the worst thing I could, the most horrifying thing, and asserting it as true. I was a child, and it pleased my family. And I had no confidence in my own perceptions."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Sometimes I could not handle it. I used to go and find my mother, and sit in silence. There were times when I saw things, or when... things happened, and I could not bring myself to speak at all. For days."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "And she was always understanding. She never made me talk, only asked if I was ready yet, patted me on the head... You understand."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "So I was never pushed quite over the edge to rebellion."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Because... She gave me what seemed a safe place to be. While she acclimated me."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Until eventually the things I could not handle, because they are... so obviously wrong, to anyone who lives here, were just life."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "And I may have -been- hopelessly dim, but somehow I ended up here."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "So I understand how you can end up believing, bit by bit, something anathema to reality."
 
Mezghar nods.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "And I can't dismiss hardly anyone, anyone but the worst monsters, as a lost cause entirely. Because that makes my own situation an impossibility."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "At the same time, I also know that this cannot and will not stay my hand if I have to eliminate these people who are not lost causes for the good of Creation."
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "Of course."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Just as destroying me would have been justified."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "Because I understand that I am not important. I am not special. I am just a person."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I do not know if any of this... makes sense. I don't really talk about things like this."

Mezghar says to you in a rumbling, basso voice, "I know what you mean. I think."
 
You nod.
                                                                           
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "I apologize, though."
 
You have emoted: Jiraishin cocks his head to one side questioningly.
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "Perhaps these aren't doubts a Lumarch should have, mm? But its always the idea of redemption, for certain people that is, that has struck me as the hardest to grasp."
 
Mezghar shrugs helplessly.
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I do not think there is anything wrong with what you said."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I think the idea of redemption is hard for more or less anyone to grasp. And honestly, most people who think they understand it do not seem to. Harbingers included."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "I also think the possibility of redemption has no bearing on what needs to be done, most of the time."
 
You say with a harsh Western accent, "And it is also possible I am simply odd. I've always been told I was odd, in many ways, everywhere I have lived."
 
Mezghar says in a rumbling, basso voice, "Yes. I have never doubted what needs to be done. Mostly I just gnaw at the concept of redemption in silence, while sermons are given."

Mezghar reaches out suddenly, warmly clasping you by the forearm for a few moments before letting go.

You say with a harsh Western accent, "I hope I helped, or at the very least did no harm."

Farrah

Mezghar being serious? Next you'll show a log with Issam doing an emote.

Jiraishin

Farrah said:

Mezghar being serious? Next you'll show a log with Issam doing an emote.

Dammit, if only I hadn't lost that wedding log...

Farrah

Jiraishin said:

Farrah said:

Mezghar being serious? Next you'll show a log with Issam doing an emote.

Dammit, if only I hadn't lost that wedding log...

That's the only wedding I've officiated and I don't even have a log.