The Imagiverse

Lunalake Island

a part of The Imagiverse, by Adam Skelecoot.

A large island and major hub, Lunalake City is here, along with a few fishing towns situated around the river and lake. In the middle of the lake is a strange clock tower where the governor lives. No one knows why he lives there, he just... does.

MartinVole holds sovereignty over Lunalake Island, giving them the ability to make limited changes.
144 readers have been here.
27,154 readers have visited this universe since Adam Skelecoot created it. Specmarine, MartinVole, and Adam Skelecoot are listed as curators.

Setting

These massive lush greenlands make for a major hub for all Memorian activity. Fresh water pours out from the heavens as a massive waterfall, endlessly providing fresh clean water. It is believed the moon itself provides water, hence "Lunalake."

The governor of this island, Abdown, lives in a clocktower submerged under the lake, where he somehow monitors the island. Few know why he lives in a clock tower, or why the lake, but all agree he's a bit of a cuckoo.

Lunalake Island

A large island and major hub, Lunalake City is here, along with a few fishing towns situated around the river and lake. In the middle of the lake is a strange clock tower where the governor lives. No one knows why he lives there, he just... does.

Minimap

Lunalake Island is a part of Memoria.


Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adam Skelecoot ((Roleplay Creator)) Character Portrait: John Skelecoot Character Portrait: Max the Robloxian Character Portrait: Jack "The Ducky Boy" Quackers Character Portrait: Fancy Pants Character Portrait: Skitters Character Portrait: Sir Betelgeuse Grimms Character Portrait: Vragi Odd

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Through a tear in space, the S.S. Victoria emerged, barely missing a strange small moon with a hole in its side that poured out a stream of water down into a cloudy mass, the vessel experiencing some turbulence. It was as if the vessel was pulled down into the flow, entering into an unknown atmosphere, engulfed and blinded by dark clouds on all sides. Piercing through it the vessel descended, the deeper they went, the brighter it became. Finally piercing the veil of clouds a bright flash of light went through all the windows, Basalah shielding her eyes from the brightness. The shaking finally abated, and a vibrant world opened up before the crew, a world unlike a typical planet, composed of islands adrift around a dark misty core, a massive white tree growing out from the depths holding some of them in its branches. Following the lunar waterfall the vessel was being carried towards one of the biggest upper islands, with a large lake in the middle of it fed by the water that they were apparently being carried by.

It became clear the closer they got that this island was inhabited, a cityscape brimming with life could be seen, but they were not being pulled towards that, but rather towards the center part of the lake, where a peculiar blue clock tower was, half submerged in the water, a clock tower they were currently on a collision course with.

"This is quite lovely... familiar somehow? But perhaps we should pull up?" Grimms said with only the slight hint of urgency.

As the vessel continued along its crash course for the strange structure, but as it nearly hit, a figure atop the tower stood on its very top and reached up, and the vessel slowed to a strangely peaceful stop, a rippling in the water going out from the tower's base, and a strange ringing sound going through the vessel. After the stop, the vessel was abruptly dropped to rest adrift in the lake with a splash. Basalah fell over, and even Grimms toppled over onto a resounding clunk.

From the clock tower, a bridge extended from under a door under the giant clock face to the S.S. Victoria, like the cuckoo of a clock.

"Urgh... heh, any landing you live from is a good landing, aye?" Grimms said with a chuckle, placing a hand on his knee to stabilize himself as he stood back to his feet. He looked out at the bridge. "Well, looks like they are practically rolling out th-" before he could finish his sentence, the door opened and a red carpet rolled out onto the bridge. "...literally rolling out the red carpet for us."

"Finally, some recognition," Basalah muttered, getting back onto her hind feet and dusting herself off. Looking out the window she braced her eyes with her arms once again. "Warm... bright..."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adam Skelecoot ((Roleplay Creator)) Character Portrait: John Skelecoot Character Portrait: Max the Robloxian Character Portrait: Jack "The Ducky Boy" Quackers Character Portrait: Fancy Pants Character Portrait: Skitters Character Portrait: Sir Betelgeuse Grimms Character Portrait: Vragi Odd

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The grating noise of tortured machinery screeched through the spaceship as it was carried along by the lunar waterfall, its engine still unleashing its great blue flame. At the helm, John's hand leapt towards the chadburn, swinging the handle towards the "Slow" sign on the other side. For the duration of the ride, John would swing the wheel this way and that, attempting to escape the pull of the current. When it became clear this wasn't going to work, he resolved to keep the wheel steady. When he saw the half-submerged clocktower, however, he swung the chadburn handle towards "Full, Astern" and renewed his efforts to veer off the collision course.
The ship then slowed, apparently thanks to the efforts of the figure on top of the tower, and plummeted into the waters below. As it crashed into the lake, huge bodies of steam leapt from the undersides of the S.S Victoria, and there was a final metallic moan as the tortured guts of the ship decelerated and cooled down.
A moment of silence passed within the hull, punctuated only by the lowering pitch of the engine's hum. Then, a voice cried, "I can't thee! I can't thee! I think I've gone blind!"
Another, gruffer voice croaked, "Shut up, Jack."
In the bridge, a prone John gripped the edge of the control panel and laboriously lifted himself up. Looking out, he could see the clocktower, although his current position denied him the ability to tell the time. His sights still on the tower, he reached for the gramocon horn and said, "Land ho, ladies and gentlemen. You can make your way to the exit now." Dropping the horn into its slot, he turned and made his way out.
The ladder that served as the main entrance and exit to the vessel was built (as much as the term could be used when dealing with the alien geometries of the S.S Victoria) to be a mere 300 feet away from the bridge. As such, while the Chosen Few were guiding the volunteers through a series of doors that would provide them with the shortest route, John was already by the hatch. As he climbed the ladder, he allowed himself a brief contemplation on the natives' reception of his maiden vessel. How far were the inhabitants of this world in terms of technology? Were they staring wide-eyed at a strange, metallic ship that was somehow given the ability to sail through the skies, or were they simply examining the works of obsolete technology, having designed aerial craft of sleeker build and more efficient machinery? Resolving that these questions will be answered in due time, he spun the wheel of the hatch and left the spacious vessel.

Even after what must have been only a few hours in the S.S Victoria, and even countless more hours beforehand during its time in the Teslatorium, John still had to adjust to the fact that, while the spaceship was a mile long inside, it was still merely 150 feet in length on the outside. His waist still under the opening, he took in his surroundings, noting the buildings of alien (or perhaps familiar) design, a rather large detail he would have noticed while airborne had he not been as occupied by the threat of collision with the tower. Turning back to the tower, finally noticing the red-carpeted bridge leading into the building, he endeavoured to discern the figure at the top of the clocktower who helped them make a safe landing. "Good day!" he cried out with a wave, climbing out. A metallic bellow from behind cut him off as all the exhaust pipes at the stern of the vessel belched a mass of blue vapour that curled in unusual shapes until it dissipated.
The skeleton turned away from the noise and said, "Don't worry! That's just the engine letting off excess steam! We come in peace!" If there were onlookers viewing him from the side or behind him, they may notice that he had his double-barrelled shotgun strapped to his back, which only served to sully his claims.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adam Skelecoot ((Roleplay Creator)) Character Portrait: John Skelecoot Character Portrait: Max the Robloxian Character Portrait: Jack "The Ducky Boy" Quackers Character Portrait: Fancy Pants Character Portrait: Skitters Character Portrait: Sir Betelgeuse Grimms Character Portrait: Vragi Odd

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“Ah, a shame.” Vragi muttered in mock disappointment. The dwarf, having playfully bid farewell to their new 'friends' (a term with which Vragi would often refer to friend and foe alike, much to the annoyance of those around him), took hold of a nearby table for balance as the ship emerged into a new world.

Vragi shielded his eyes against the light, blinding compared to the chaotic darkness they had escaped just moments ago. He waddled over to the window to take in the grand view. For a second, as he spotted the great tree at the centre of the land – or rather, lands - he mistook it for the Yggdrasil he was so familiar with, and thought they had somehow happened upon his own homeworld. He quickly realised this was incorrect.

Vragi had not yet had the delight of witnessing the strange phenomenon of airborne islands and wondered what was keeping the landmasses afloat; some type of magic, advanced technology or perhaps both? As far as the dwarf was concerned, these were more or less interchangeable and he rarely, if ever, attempted to differentiate between the two. He didn’t seem concerned about the fact that the ship was on what appeared to be an inescapable collision course with the tower in the lake. Truth be told, he probably hadn’t noticed.

He did, however, notice a sudden upward movement of the lovely vista he had been admiring, followed by what felt like a lack of gravity. It took Vragi maybe a second or so to put two and two together, at which point there was a large splash, the fundamental forces caught up and Vragi, who seemed to be floating merrily 2 meters in the air, was slammed into the floor, bounced once or twice, and after a short pause, slowly sat up, groaning and rubbing his bruised head.

“Ah... perhaps not if it gives you a migraine...” he responded to Grimms' comment on the landing.

Still in a daze, Vragi vaguely heard instructions for leaving the vessel and allowed himself to be guided toward the entrance, quite unaware that he had left his helmet behind, rolling aimlessly on the floor of the cafetorium.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Adam Skelecoot ((Roleplay Creator)) Character Portrait: John Skelecoot Character Portrait: Max the Robloxian Character Portrait: Jack "The Ducky Boy" Quackers Character Portrait: Fancy Pants Character Portrait: Skitters Character Portrait: Sir Betelgeuse Grimms Character Portrait: Vragi Odd

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#, as written by MartinVole
The figure atop the the tower sunk quickly within the building disappearing from sight, likely some form of elevator contraption or chute. Almost immediately after this, the figure emerged at the other end of the red carpet bridge, out from the doorway to greet the most abrupt visitors of his... abode. A real dapper dandy this one was, dressed fancy from neck to toe, wearing a black suit, red tie tucked neatly, black dress pants, shiny black dress shoes, carrying a black cane with a crow head carved into its handle, white gloves covered his hands, and yet tall and spindly was he, he had to bow to walk through his own door. As he faced them, courteously still rising from his bow, it was clear he was no ordinary man, had his stature not given that away yet, his face was akin to a bird, witch a beak-like curved nose, angry-looking feathery eyebrows, and piercing large red-to-yellow eyes, feathers rust-red and white, hair slicked back into a slope and silvery, giving the impression he was rather advanced in his years.

He looked them over briefly, his eyes looked like they were scrutinizing every detail of his visitors, though that may just be because they are so large and piercing anyways. He then cleared his throat, fished through his coat to glance at a paper, before making a gesture towards the group. He began to speak boldly in an unknown tongue, only to note some confusion. He cleared his throat and started again.

"Welcome, travelers from beyond the veil, to the humble island of Lunalake! I am the governor or this piece of land, Abdown is the name, and I will be acting ambassador for this land, foreign to you. Before you in this direction is Lunalake City, which-" he said in announcement, holding his hands out back towards the other side of the lake, a large city of variable colorful houses, big and small, with a rather eccentric pattern, or lack of pattern to them. They could still be defined as housing, at the very least, and by technological level and general aesthetic seemed late Victorian. What seemed out of place, however, is that even from this distance, it was clear there had been some small battle, breaks in the streets, pieces of roofing blown off, a still steaming crater in the city square. He furrowed his brow, breaking from his rehearsed cordiality. "-well, is still very much intact. A bit of an unfortunate misunderstanding that I can assure ended without tragedy."

"Right," Basalah said, suspiciously squinting. "First off, how do you know we came from beyond the veil and are not just travelers from another part of this world, and why are you being so... nice... to armed aliens? This isn't one of those ploys to get outsiders to do random quests to solve the problems the natives are too lazy to do?"

"First off, this craft of yours literally came out of a hole in the sky, a craft of make and design that even here is uncharacteristic, running on what I presume to be a fuel definable as the physical manifestation of thoughts and dreams, which, while, is not at all an unfamiliar concept to us Memorians, the usage of devices explicitly to manipulate it, is. Furthermore, this implies you are beings, or at least there are beings among you that are not innately capable of producing these effects. Not to brag, or put you down in any way, of course, because by ability alone, few of us can pierce the veil, so I applaud your feat!"

"I-," Basalah began, finding herself without words.

"Secondly, I'd rather our problems be solved by us, without dragging outsiders into it, as that would be rather rude, and well... needlessly dangerous... as well as likely resulting in bad reviews to our tourism department, which is barely existent to begin with," he continued, adjusting his tie. "Anyone want tea or coffee? Crumpets perhaps? I'm sure you are all exhausted from your trip, and I'd be a damn bad host not to offer, especially with a lady in my midst," he finished, motioning to the inside of his tower before heading inside and descending within.

"This... is all so strangely familiar to me," Grimms said, getting a good glance at everything as he got upon and walked across the cuckoo bridge towards the door.

"La- hmph, didn't ask for- I'll show you a... you... ugh..." Basalah muttered incoherently with her crackling voice, arms crossed and puffed up in proud agitation, flustered and confused shifting eyes about for anything to say. At last she exhales, looking defeated. "Ffffff... fine!" She then followed suite.

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