Leaderboard


Popular Content

Showing content with the highest reputation since 12/21/2020 in Posts

  1. 1 point
    Ellorian strode into the Oribos inn filled with purpose and determination. It had taken what felt like days of searching, tracking down rumors of the man he sought only to come up with dead ends. Apparently a half elf with a chip on his shoulder was hard to find in the afterlife. If only it were so back on Azeroth. Further complicating matters was that the company had an office here, forcing the paladin to go undercover lest he be discovered and sent back to complete his treatment. A transmorphic tincture allowed Ellorian to become Ella, and a set of robes acquired from a Broker interested in his field rations combined with some hair dye to turn her crimson locks jet black had done well enough to keep the elf from being detected while making inquiries, but soon it would be time to move on. Ella scanned the occupied tables, her eyes settling on one in the corner where the occupant had a view of each entrance. The armor was recognizable from being seen on The House, Seasons Two and Three, and the Sanctuary tabard worn over the breastplate was enough to confirm that this was her contact. She approached warily and stopped a few steps away, waiting to be acknowledged. "It is good to see you, cousin," Mardalius said from within the helmet, the arcane glyphs that made up the face of 'Temp' moving as if speaking. His tone carried a hint of smugness, reflected in the slight smirk formed by the arcane lights dancing across the smooth face plate of his helm. "Though I don't understand why you're so obsessed with secrecy. You never were one for sneaking around. Or rather, you weren't any good at it." "I only got caught once, Mardy-moo," Ella sneered as she took her seat. "Just because your father was a bastard doesn't mean I didn't listen when he tried to play cool and teach us his spy tricks. At least I had the sense to wear something nondescript. Your armor is practically screaming 'Look at me! I'm a big shot!'" Before Mardalius could respond, a Broker arrived at their table bearing two glasses filled with a misty, clearish substance. "Your spirits," the Broker said before retreating to tend to other customers. The half elf picked up his glass and swirled it before pouring it into a micro-portal that materialized at the front of his helmet, just about where his mouth would be under the smooth plate, emptying the glass in a single draft, before sitting it back down firmly on the table. "Well, cousin, aren't you going to enjoy your drink?" Ella stared balefully at Mardalius for a long moment. "No. Do you have what I asked for or not?" "It's impolite to say no to a drink, Ellorian. Especially one bought for you by a long-estranged family member." The paladin huffed and made to stand. "I'm dry now, asshole. Just like you were. Thanks for wasting my time." Halfway out of her seat, she stopped and sat again as Mardalius produced a folder from air, conjuring it into being on the table between them. "I'm still dry, but through the power of transmutation I'm able to enjoy a drink now and again. A simple matter of changing the alcohol to something non-intoxicating. Not that you'd understand the intricacies, so I won't bore you with the details. I have the information you asked for, but I had to be sure that you were serious about this before I was comfortable giving it to you. As far as I've been able to gather, her soul was sent to Bastion, but there are things you need to know. If you find her, she may not remember you." The arcane glyphs covering the front of the helm twisted distastefully. "Part of the Kyrian ascension process removes the memories from a soul so that they may carry out their duties effectively. I'm also not entirely certain how helpful the Kyrian will be. Their secrets are difficult to penetrate without joining their ranks, and while you may have been attentive during Father's lessons, I never cared for that sort of work." Ella reached towards the folder, but was stopped by Mardalius' gauntlet coming to rest on top of it. "Now, for your payment for all the work I put into this. I, too, require information. If you catch wind of any of my human kin, you're to send word immediately. Do not engage them, do not seek to trap them and deliver them to me, simply send me whatever information you find. Do we have a deal?" "We have a deal." Mardalius lifted his gauntlet and Ella reached for the folder again, hesitating as her hand passed near the glass filled with that delicious, tempting alcohol. She shook her head firmly, reminding herself that this was too important to give in to that tantalizing numbness, and took the folder, then stood to leave. "Goodbye, Mardalius. And... thank you." The half elf watched his wayward cousin depart, the arcane glyphs standing in for his face unreadable despite the sorrowful expression contained behind his face mask. "Light guide you, Ellorian Bloodvow," he said softly, not knowing what would be worse: If Ellorian found Roxanna or if his search bore no fruit at all.
  2. 1 point
    My desperately avoiding spending time in this place seems to have led me to spending an inordinate amount of time in this place, whenever I can find the energy to bother to step through those portals, but in the interests of not falling to pieces -- again -- I have attempted to learn what I can. It stands in between me and where I want to be. I am not helped by not knowing exactly where I want to be, but a great deal of that is a certain rare comfortable quiet that I have built around me, making me reluctant to move forward. When you spend a great deal of time rewriting and reconstructing your memories in order to build your own identity, having someone tell you that you need to have them adjusted is infuriating. But while dealing with these people -- if we can even call them people -- has been an exercise in perpetual frustration, I do find myself learning from those who work against them. I am seeing a value in doubt I have not seen before. I have always been plagued with doubts, but I tend to keep them buried deep. I am seeing how others wear their certainty as their masks now, as I have often worn mine. Yet, there is an importance to continually questioning one's place and one's methods, and too much certainty leads down difficult paths. Certainty is best for manipulating others. Best to always appear as though you know exactly what you are doing if you are trying to convince anyone of anything. Doubt is a vulnerability, to be applied only in specific circumstances where appearing vulnerable will break resistance. In that vulnerability, however, is the means to break others' control, the means to thwart the certainty of others. It is also only through doubt that one can construct oneself to suit one's desires, rather than to the desires of others. Perhaps I should thank the Bronze -- and the Kyrian -- for the harm they've done to me, for the foundations they shredded that I might improve in the rebuilding. Though I would rather end them both, and will certainly not hesitate at such an opportunity.
  3. 1 point
    It's time for another rousing Dating Auction, hosted by the magnificent Mozzi (Draq), the lovely Libelle (Sabeinne), the marvelous Mardalius (Mard, duh), and of course, the fantastic Phyruss (Cobrak)! It will be held at 5 PST/ 8 EST on Jan 23 in Sagehaven, Bastion. How does it work? We present the best and most bodacious of bachelors and bachelorettes, and bidders cast their gold to win time with them at the place of the bidder's choosing! It doesn't have to be romantic, it can be a friendly discourse or just a chance to meet someone you've never had a chance to talk with! (OOC contact should be considered to find out available times between the winning bidder and their date!) How do I audition to be auctioned off? Easy! Send the name of the character you want to be auctioned to one of our hosts (preferably in Discord--contact Sabeinne if you need help accessing the TNG Discord community), limit to one per player, along with a tagline what their likes/dislikes are, what their favorite hobby is, and where they would like to be whisked away to! What are the rules of the bids? We will be using in-game gold for bids. Beginning at the opening of bids, each potential bidder must offer a minimum of 25g per bid cast. Which means, opening bid is 25g, and you can increase your bid to 50, or 80, or 100, or whatever so long as it is more or equal to 25g. The auction for a person stops when either A) A Five count between bids occurs. B) Two minutes pass, in which case, highest current bid wins. C) The maximum bid total of 1,000g is reached. [If two or more bidders both go the maximum, break out the dice cause it's time for Boulder, Parchment, Shears!]
  4. 1 point
    Sometimes he cursed the days that bled into each other one after the other. When he had something to do the time was well spent and the inability to sleep was a blessing. But when the holidays approached it left him with endless amounts of time to check the main road and see if he was coming. For the hundredth time that day alone he found himself too distracted to do anything more than listlessly fiddle with his lab equipment. The holidays were always a hard time for him. What was a feast to a man who barely ate? What was snow to a man who hardly felt the cold? In these times he rarely felt the spirit that everyone else was infused with. The only ones who brought a modicum of that cheer into his empty eyes were his family. His wife had long lost her sympathy for his seasonal gloom. Soon enough she would start baring her teeth when he wasn't looking, then it would turn to growling and finally a demand to just stop fretting. For his own sanity and hers, he had thrown himself into a new task of preparing the small feast for the two, hopefully three, of them. If nothing else the chopping blade demanded your focus. Vegetables were diced, almonds slivered, potatoes chopped, steamed and mashed and mixed with an unhealthy amount of butter. "He's not coming." Selris finally murmured, setting the bowl down with a resolute thunk. His wife would look up and narrow her eyes, silently demanding an explanation. "You remember the last time we saw him, the argument... HE hasn't written a letter in months. I know he's going to blame it on me-" Before he could go into a full rant, he was struck in the back of his head with a wooden spoon. "...Fair enough but you know I am right." He sighed, offering a soft smile under the threat of another bonk. Satisfied, his wife turned back towards the fat bird on the flame. Dusk was falling and the meal in its entirety had just hit the table when three soft knocks sounded at the front door. The two of them sprang from the table to answer it, moving in sync towards the entrance. The door swung open wide to reveal the travel weary orc. His armor was scuffed, his eyes tired, and more than a few patches of his exposed skin were covered in dirty bandages. Before he could even begin to offer an explanation or a muttered, awkward rant, he would find himself embraced by his parents. Appearances did not matter, neither did the latest feats. In that moment, the family had become whole once again. For one evening, the arguments could rest. "Welcome home, Gunny." The Father murmured softly, ushering the young orc inside out of the cold.