If Mariana wants any actual advice....

Keep drawing pictures. They're good now and they'll just keep getting better too!!! <3

(Soo much of this is happening and it's hard to type up all of it! If your characters have a perspective, please don't hesitate to post below! There's still a week of backlogged material that Garr or I need to go over and post, and even these posts have been quite abridged I feel like! *Lyla smiles* But we also have our secret friend, who at the end of this, gets to make a big post and stuff! Teehee! So, we all might get some answers from that. But we're looking forward to mostly how the community gets involved and how their characters have a good time. Ultimately - we hope you are, whether we're doing ok or not. Thank you! /end post.)


(This section reserved.)

PS is good because you can RP and also RP-lite, and gain enjoyment either way.

[Garris and I have agreed to bring it up to speed. Thank you to all who are participating at this point, and yes, even though we've done quite a bit already....There's still even more! It is our combined hope as a team, all of us involved, that as many people as possible can join. We understand that this means we won't get everybody, but even if you're a part for 3 seconds or less, or in passing, we hope you enjoy it. So now, to give my fingers blisters:]

Part 1: Six Vials
Gently, he put them in the chest, lovingly laying them side by side. They glistened, it seemed, although it was probably just a trick of the light. Blood, such a powerful weapon. Used to control, if needed. Used to summon demons, if wanted.
In this case, used for neither. Shame that some citizens took it upon themselves. They would have never known.
But now they would.


Pt. 2: Advance Queen....

The things of life are never as easy as I want them to be. They're never handed to me on a platter, and if they are, the platter is yanked from me just as soon as I reach my hand out for it. Only then does the hand holding it open the lid, revealing what's beneath. What I once thought was good is revealed as lies, and my stomach turns. The things I wanted first? Perhaps they would've killed me.

Lyelora's thoughts ran through her head like a hailstorm, the pitter-patter of each individual feeling and emotion denting her will to continue on. Her bed was warm and soft, and the covers created a cocoon for her to lay in, like some sort of ugly worm waiting it's turn to become a butterfly. Perhaps, she thought, that was what she was. When this was all over, she could emerge for the better, this whole fiasco behind her.

She pulled the covers tighter around her neck, a small sob escaping her lips as she thought over the events of the past week or so.

It had all began so easily. The figure in black came to her, impossible to see. It wasn't so much that she couldn't see him, but rather that he couldn't be pinned down. As if by trying to focus on him, he simply /moved/ to a different location, just enough that her eyes betrayed her brain into believing him indistinguishable. A man, yes. That was all she could tell, from the richness of his voice and the masculinity he radiated. It almost made her shiver, being in his presence, and not necessarily from fear. She had been praying, in the Temple of Laanx, and he had ghosted in behind her. The offer was simple, He'd said. No tria, no cost. She would simply point out targets, and when the required 6 mages had been bled, they would meet and revive her parents. Of course she'd given it second thoughts! What kind of person wouldn't? But grief and rage had overwhelmed judgment, and in the end she had accepted readily.

Especially when He had shown her the miracles. Touched her head, and become a part of her as easily as breathing. In there, He had seemed a god himself, showing her the wonders and miracles that Laanx could perform, if only she should agree.

Easy sell. Grieving woman, with no loved ones.

She grimaced at that. What a pitiable fool she had been, so eager to jump at some pithy magic tricks and the promise of her parents restored to her. How little she had known, believing that her ma and dad were the only family she could receive. What a foolish, foolish girl.

The thoughts made her rip her covers off, now, and she stood to her feet, quietly tip toeing so as not to wake the other occupants. It was a chore, to be sure.

Sleeping in the fortress made of pillows was little Ed, and Evirea's girl, Callim. Two of the most darling children she had ever met, and within less than a month she had met them. If that wasn't friendship, then she didn't know what was. They seemed to adore her, and she adored them right back!

She could stay here forever. She would stay here forever! No sense in dabbling around. When whoever was responsible for this was caught and if the gods were good, crystalled, she would put it all behind her.

She would give her parents a proper burial. Adorn their bodies what the needed, and send them down the Wells, to rest forever. The final sleep. They deserved that, for all they had done for her. And she could finally breathe again. Perhaps....

Perhaps pursue family. If not her own, she would content herself with Evirea's beautiful 'children'. She wasn't even sure what she would do with her own kids. A part of her feared that perhaps she would be a terrible mother. A part feared that her kids would grow up in this Dome, and as the cycles wore, would become a fatality to the madness that seemed to seethe at the edges around everyone here.

Perhaps children were really out of the question. Ah, well.

As she finished her quiet walk around the outer edge of the guildhouse, more thoughts began formulating in her mind.

A kiss, yes. She'd enjoyed that one, for sure. The tall man made her feel safe, although she had more than a feeling that there was quite a bit to him. No one had the tools he had at his disposal, and perhaps she was dipping her toes where the hungry fish were swimming again. But no matter. He was on her side, he'd said so. He'd protect her, and make sure nothing happened.

 As for the rest, it was a mystery to her. She'd heard of the vials of blood, and some fear rose in her throat as she remembered Evirea's words, "They must have all of them, by now...". That, coupled with the intentions of whomever was behind this to use her as some sort of sacrifice, or vessel, had her shivering where she stood. In fact, it took her a few moments to calm down to where she could walk again, a determined set on her face.

She would not be a husk for some creature to use. She would not become something thrown away, to be pressed to the side and discarded when no longer useful.

Lyelora Kulesara had not been raised that way. She had been raised with knowledge far deeper than the twit she had acted after her parent's death.

If she could wait long enough, wait until this blew over, then she could live again. Perhaps just a few more days until she could open that door and walk out.

But for now?

A long breath....and exhale.

[I also did want to note that I will be posting some of the other views after this also, as well as Garris.]

And We Move Again: "The Rook" Up, 5 Spaces. Other Pieces Coming Into Play....
[Thank you Sulaika, Evirea, and more!]

"Cord" sat under the tree, looking himself over. It really was a clever plan, and it didn't take a lot of magic to make him look like this. How much easier could it get? His "Uncle" was going to get the right person, and when they saw him in this pitiable state, they'd do whatever he asked them to.

It was taking a bit longer than he expected, though. Knowing his "Uncle", he'd found a pretty woman and was trying to get into her pants as much as he was trying to get the necessary blood. Good thing he'd already been paid his guarantee, small as it was. Whoever was running this show was efficient and knew how to get the most out of his players.

Cord just wished he knew who was running the show. Only the girl had ever met him/her/it, and Cord didn't even think the girl had any idea what was happening around her. In fact on second thought, it all seemed a bit disconcerting. There were a lot of puzzle pieces being moved and fitted, and Cord honestly had no idea what the big picture looked like.

Ah, well. Trust his Uncle, and it would all come out in the wash, he said.

Cord huddled under the tree, doing his absolute best impression of a sickly cub. The magic held, and it didn't seem like the woman either knew about the shields, or if she saw them, didn't care. More's the better, because if there were less questions than everything would work out better. So he coughed, mewed, and even allowed the woman to pet his head. Gods, what a woman! She fawned over him, gushing about how cute he was, and sneaking sidelong glances at his uncle. It looked like both of them were going to be happy today.

As soon as it was done, and his "Uncle" carried him into the house, Cord relaxed, and the bindings of the spell came loose.
"You made me /drink/ that dung?!?" He asked, accusingly.
The other man in the house simply laughed, shaking his head and grinning in return.
"Yeah, cracked me up. Plus, we managed two vials on this one, and she's quite a powerful Crystal Way user. I thought it'd be funny to see you gag it down like a good little boy."
"Well, damn you to the realm and back! That was a foul trick!" Cord spat back.

The other man simply laughed again, carefully rolling the vial in a thick set of linens and leathers and stowing it with the first. Fortunately they wouldn't have to watch over these much longer. The next target was being picked out, and it seemed like Em and the Old Man were almost ready for theirs also. The last two, though? Not a peep.

It always seemed like the Black Beast waited until the last moment to put on a show.

How typical, and how foolish, Cord thought.

But the tria was good, so that was what mattered.

A Very Silly Girl Indeed

[Taken from a conversation with Asmo, & More...]

All I could think about was his notebook, which he entrusted me with. He said it was the only way, and here I'd gone and lost a page! I thought I could cry with how frustrated I was, and in fact I came quite close. Enoile really saved me on that one, catching me mid-mope near the fountain and whisking me away to a picnic in the rain. What a beautiful woman, and such a kind heart.

But as soon as I stepped foot back into Hydlaa it hit me like a ton of the cobblestone that these city streets are paved with. I'd let him down, and He'd been my only hope.

And that was when Asmo came along. I was despondent - perhaps a bit frustrated with my own despondency, even. Have you ever gotten so down that you begin to hate yourself for your own failure and the reaction to it? He either didn't care, or genuinely wanted me around.

So I hitched my boots up, adjusted my blouse, and convinced him to buy me a drink. I was all charm and smiles, and for a minute there I forgot that I had a role to play. Sure, it was an easy role, and I fell into it naturally, perhaps one could say I was born into it, but it only felt exciting when I crossed the boundaries a little bit.

Two Twisted Emeralds later and I'd already kissed the man - granted, it was on the cheek, but I couldn't help it he made me a little hot under the collar. I'd found out what I needed to know, about his proficiency in the Blue Way, his aspirations to become a doctor, and a little bit more about the goings on of the mages in the city.

My part was coming quicker than I thought. I went to my room, with a bit of a headache, but with much more confidence. Shortly afterwards I managed to send out a message to whomever it was that had found 'my silly note' and tacked it to the public noteboard. Problem solved, surely. It'd be foolish to involve anyone else in something so simple.

Soon I'll see them. Soon I will see It.


Laanx, come home? There is so much work to be done.

Come Home, My Love
[An RP for everyone, featuring intrigue, mystery, suspense, beautiful women, and more!]
[You'll have to pardon me for my writing style. I have a huge worry about giving out too much information on the forum that can get people IC/OOC confused, so I keep it brief. We look forward to seeing you in game!]

The candlelight flickers unsteadily, illuminating the woman bent in prayer to the altar that stood in front of her. The figure on the altar has Its arms outstretched, palms outward, as if beckoning to an unseeing mass. But there is only one woman praying, only one when perhaps there should be masses, today. She is a young woman, beautiful by almost any standard. Too young to be praying such a prayer, on such a beautiful day. Her garb is simple, not that of a rich merchant's daughter or a lover taking her pay on the side. It is not so simple as to be called poor, though, and it would be a mistake to describe anything about her as plain. Today, though, neither garb, looks, or even tria matters to her, nor to the figure she prays to.

Sweat drips down the woman's brow, and there is a look of feverish devotion, or concentration perhaps, embedded in the lines of her face and the rigidity of her posture. Her eyes are focused at the feet of the figure, as if unable to look all the way up at the chiseled stone of the god - for it must be a god.

To the left of the woman are two caskets, bearing two bodies. They are covered with the ceremonial sheets of those who are dead, soon to be taken to a well and removed from existence entirely. Two masks cover their faces, the only indicator of anything to do with status, religion, or race, if one could guess those things from such an indicator. One of these bodies is slightly taller than the other, the casket a bit longer to accommodate it.

Unbeknownst to the woman, there is another being in the room. All it does is watch, impassively. And when she stands, finally, tears falling down from her face, it is gone. She moves to close the casket, whispering a final goodbye to those inside.

And she moves on, clutching a precious journal closely. It is worn, in fact, quite well worn, and many of the pages are dog eared, as if they have been looked over several times, for reassurance of the precious contents they hold.

As she walks through the cobbled city streets, a page unsteadily tears loose from the journal underneath her arm, already loosened by her un-caringingly heavy steps, filled with grief as they are. It starts wafting through the cold winds and settles on the stone pavement, fluttering occasionally as a breeze bites its corners. She walks on, drying her tears with the strength and knowledge known to her race.

[Welcome one, welcome all! This RP is open to everyone, and I believe we've already had one person find the journal piece. There'll be plenty of other ways to involve yourself, so if you find yourself in a /tell from one of the characters asking your consent, don't hesitate to say yay or nay. There are violent and nonviolent options, so we welcome all of you to come along. This isn't just another "necromancer" "mass murderer" "blah violent blah" story, and we welcome all from the newest roleplayers to the most advanced. Have a good time, and we'll see you down in Hydlaa and the rest of Yliakum!]

[On a side note, those involved with this RP are encouraged to post logs, or post their story as they see fit! Those of running the RP usually store logs, though one of us does not, so I will post in place and keep the story moving as best possible. Good luck, all, we're enjoying the community coming together and RPing! ]