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The Garden: An Arcadian Boneyard

The Garden: An Arcadian Boneyard

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A high fantasy, semi-apocalyptic, guild-based, evolving adventure epic set in a world called The Garden. The games have begun and The Nameless are attempting to rise again, however this time, they have your help.

6,729 readers have visited The Garden: An Arcadian Boneyard since duramon created it.

Introduction

The Garden


The Garden is a massive world, designed around guilds, β€œGames” of all types and used to test the mundane to the greatest demons in creation. The Garden itself is a fantastical bright and fantasy-esque world akin to Wonderland and other High/Bright Fantasy worlds you can imagine…at least in some places. In others it more reflects a Post apocalyptic Fantasy land-scape, perhaps that in itself is a wonderland, especially if one is familiar with American McGee’s Wonderlandian world of psychological disturbtion (I just made a word…yes, yes I did). The latter places are where great battles have been conducted, or Demon Lords have forced Guilds into cruel Guild games of their own design.

There are Various City’s around the place but no small towns, and Guilds have either buildings, large tracts of lands or entire sections of The Garden that they call their own, some even reside in other dimensions. The Garden itself on a map would be a flat square shaped world, however it functions as if it were a globe when travelling along its length. The world is four times as large as that we know and so various quick and possibly even instant means of transportation are available…for a price.


Image


Technology


Technology in the little garden is some-what tricky, Powers and Genetic Changes play a big a role in society and combat as Technology does and so the lines have begun to blur. Especially considering Technology and people from nearly every time period seem to be cultivating in The Garden without affecting any city or groups advantages over others. The Garden remains in a constant balance when it comes to Technology, that is not to say that there is not more advanced tech elsewhere or expensive and hard to access materials available to the highest bidder. It is more to say that a Guild or City’s standing is not ranked or even reliant on it.


The Story


The story itself will revolve around peoples OC’s and their guild, The Nameless. A guild that was wiped out by a Demon Lord and is only just beginning to rise again, they have very few people who can participate in the games and despite owning a large piece of The Garden they have barely any resources as the land itself has been turned barren and lifeless. All the rewards they earnt in previous games removed and stolen along with their banner and several members of higher rank.

The characters will hopefully come from all walks of life and various time-lines if they so choose and will be tasked with rising in the ranks and participating in Guild Games to regain the guilds status and earn rewards to rebuild the land-scape. However, at any time the characters may leave the original guild and join another that they think will suit them and their needs better, in fact doing so will help add some interesting plot points to the role-play.

The characters will of course begin from the bottom and will be relatively weak and new to their powers/weaponry of choice. In most cases at least, things will depend on what people ask about etc, I am planning to accept as many PM’s as people send and answer any questions people have about characters or anything they themselves wish to do in the RP.


The (Perhaps evil) Plan


Well, the plan is to make this an extremely long-lasting and expanding role-play. That eventually spans across various genre’s and across many re-incarnations / new role-plays within the same world and after the events of the previous. Hopefully starring the same or at least some of the original characters, at least as NPC’s but hopefully as advancing/ leading characters. Albeit new characters could join etc through out and if anyones character had died or left the party the role-player is free to re-join as another if they so choose.

Regardless, the plan is to create an extremely long lasting and evolving story in the same world, one that gets more complex and in depth as time goes on. One that has characters you become attached to and that creates a sense of awe as the world expands and changes drastically.

For post size I expect at least 2-3 paragraphs per post, far less for fights between two player characters for quick exchanges, and 4 paragraphs minimum for important or drastically influential posts.

Character Skeleton
[Personal Detail]
Name:
Age: (Relatively young for your race/species please, it helps to evolve characters more as time flows)
Place of Birth:
Personality: (Description of a paragraph or more please)
Appearance: (Description of a paragraph or more please. I'd also like a picture if you so please.)
Spoken Languages:
Theme Song: (Entirely optional, if you think a song may help sum up your character or hint to things in the future)
[Combat Section] (Try not to just fill this section up with whatever so you can have one in every slot, think about your character deeply. and remove stuff you don't need for them.)
Weapons:
Powers:
Technology:
Skills:
Proficiency:
[Back-story]
Father:
Mother:
Connections and Affiliations:
History prior to The Garden:

Feel free to add or remove and make this look far better then it does, this is a straight up out-line of what I would like for you to have on your CS and I do some-what expect more variety and changes to be made however its fine to just stick with this as well.

Toggle Rules

The Usual Generic Rules.
1: No god-modding/powergaming
2: No meta-gaming
3: No abuse of other players
4: I can and will remove you from the RP at any time if you cause problems.

Browse All » 6 Settings to roleplay in

Kerris, Northern Corner

Kerris, Northern Corner by duramon

The Norther Corner of The Garden, a floating city reliant on its vast hub of guilds and sky trade routes.

Terralis

Terralis by duramon

The Eastern Corner of The Garden, vast cities spread across the tops of ancient and nearly indestructible mushrooms grown from the earth. All things natural, pure magic and genetic tampering are the norm here, seen vastly as the symbol for peace.

Kreigland

Kreigland by duramon

The Western Corner of the Garden, home to the hardiest monsters and roughest terrain. Will and Law is an Iron fist and its residence and guilds hold true to this standard, Kreigland is known for its seclusion from the other corners and cities.

Thawmound, Southern Corner

Thawmound, Southern Corner by duramon

The Southern Corner of the Garden, A city sunk into the glaciers of ancient ethereal ice. Kind-hearted and hardy are the people here, and ironically its trade of food and all things heat-related is well known in The Garden.

Phyrexian Grassland

Phyrexian Grassland by duramon

Vast plains of grass and large fields were the norm at one point here near Kerris, but after a game with a Demon Lord the Phyrexian Grasslands are withered and barren waste-lands devoid of all but a tiny almost village area home to The Nameless.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 15 authors

4 Characters Present

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
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#, as written by Zalgo
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Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Tiotio
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#, as written by Ankti
Tiotio paid no mind to the sounds behind her. Her attention was on the wounds on her arm. The bone was still broken, but the burns were closing thanks to healing magic that twisted around her arm, white tendrils that wove in and out of each wound.

She assumed the huge noise signaled the entrance of the mountainous creature into the battle. It was a shame, it seemed for a moment like they might survive.

It was actually the lack of sound that caused her to turn. If she was right that the mountain was hewing a path through the field, there should have been more - more crashes, more screams. Instead there was something of a silence falling over the field, heads turned to watch whatever was happening.

Her bo rested in her coiled tail, and as she turned she reached for it, fearing she would need to fly into battle again. Her hands stopped on the wood, but did not lift it.

A lone figure moved at impossible speeds, taking down risen corpses, and those who had been given unnatural energy. She could not fix her eyes on any feature of the man, they slid past like liquid.

A charge rushed out of him, bolts tearing through the figures all around him. The air still light with electricity, he lifted his eyes to their fleeing line. For that moment he completely ignored the enemy, his gaze as sharp from across the field as it would be inches from her face.

His eyes gave her only a glimpse of the true being within. Cold gripped her chest, even as blood rushed through to head, her mind trying to process all she’d truly seen in those eyes.

The moment passed and the man fought on, making obvious just how simple the work that had nearly killed her and her allies was for him.

As quickly as it had started, it was over, and the man gone. In the absence of battle the field seemed almost obscene, exposed. The fighting had left a scar on the land much deeper than anything physical.

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane
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The healer had done an outstanding job, Ivan's wound gone as was the pain in his arms. Which meant it was about time for him to stop sitting around and being usefull. He stood up and saw a man as untangible as night, yet very clearly there. His eyes could barely follow the movements of the man, even from this distance, as he gracefully slaughtered the husks with great speed and a multitude of differently styled strikes. He realised that if the man unsatisfied by the slaughter of the husks were to turn on them they wouldn't stand a chance. On the distant hill he saw the golem was slowly turning around and moving away, it seemed that the enemy was no longer interrested in prolonging the fight.

Only moments later the man dissapeared almost making it seem as if the husks had simply collapsed in on themselves rather than being beaten in such a rapid succession and the man had simply been an illusion. Whether he was or not didn't matter, it had turned this almost hopeless battle into a technical victory. The enemy had retreated and they still had people standing, however the price had been high many were dead and even more wounded. The slain husks, probably mere minnions of which there are thousands more just waiting to sotrm out of the woodworks. The only thing they had gained was some experience in battle, and the rats mace, nothing worth even one lives lost in this battle.

Ivan picked up the mace from next to him and looked at the vile green glowing macehead. The masked man had tasked him with sucking it dry, and he hadn't even done this much yet. There are better ways to make use of it than to simply siphon out all of it's energy, and with the battle over there is no need for him to siphon the energy. If only the damn thing wasn't so massive, if he somehow could break off that handle it would be easier to manage. He grabbed the bottom of the mace, laid the head on the ground and began kicking the mace. However he didn't make the thick wooden handle budge, he wasn't nearly strong enough to cause any damage to the handle. Hopefully he could find someone who might be able to break the handle.

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
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#, as written by Zalgo
He was preparing for the metal fences inevitable failure when an enigmatic character presented itself upon the field. A strange figure in well worn clothing adorned with a patchwork top hat and a mask which obscured it's features crashed into the melee, scattering many of the enemy shadows in it's wake or so he saw from his position.

After the dynamic entry Pravus wasn't entirely able to see the whole event. He caught several glimpses of the strange figure, now hatless and without it's mask, running about punching and kicking wildly at the many shadows. He could tell significant damage was being done to the enemy forces from the occasional sights of the enemy warriors being knocked through the air. After some time the stranger recalled it's belongings as it used some form of magic to stand suspended in the air as though it were earth beneath it.

When the figure descended he could not see what it did but it's effects were clear enough. There was a sudden silence that drowned out all other sounds on the field. The remaining enemy forces all exploded in a gory mess followed by a massive blast of wind. He held his ground as the wind hit, refusing to topple under the air's rush.

After that the figure was all but gone with little left but dead bodies and a small piece of paper which flitted it's way over towards the incubus. He looked around to see there was no more combat underway, only the dead and those who he had fought for if for no other reason than to survive this battle. He noticed that in the wind blast had knocked his hat off but luckily it had caught on one of the metal spikes. He simply walked over and took his hat off of the sharp metal protrusion, setting it back on his head.

He stepped over to a space in the wall where the various metal blades were beaten and bent. There was a narrow gap the now dead shadows had made in it. Keeping careful mind not to catch himself on any of the sharp points or edges he climbed through the opening and over some dead bodies which had been trodden on and pushed up against the base of the fence by the feet of the previous blessed attackers.

Over the hill the head of the golem could be seen disappearing as the remaining lieutenants left the scene of the battle. Looking down the field was a mess. The magic used by the stranger had killed the remaining shadows in such a way that made them unburiable. On top of that many of them were destroyed by the many magics used during the battle. He was not opposed to the use of magic in warfare but the stranger's parting spell was gratuitous in Pravus's own opinion. He was not pleased to say the least.

He made his way around the bodies, searching for an open space of ground ideal for burying them. With his shovel resting upon his main fighting hand's shoulder he strode up to the top of the hill and looked out towards the direction the golem and remaining lieutenants had retreated towards, searching the landscape for any signs before he'd resume his solemn duty as a Grave Tender.

13 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: River Saetyrix Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor Character Portrait: Kaula Vee-Ryn Character Portrait: Irina Neventelde Character Portrait: 'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile' Character Portrait: Dan Breeze

...and 1 others.

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#, as written by duramon
Rest arrives in The Nameless abode, and gratitude arrives in the form of breakfast interrogation


There was no rest for the wicked, and so the good could not rest either, or at least that was the way he looked at it. Without pause Aizen dashed across the battlefield, a tapestry stretching from his original point and reaching the rabbit woman who lay mostly healed next to the corpse of her savior, an alien woman whom had healed her amongst the midst of battle. With a delicate sigh he slid her eyes shut with an out-stretched hand and slammed the tapestry's wooden end into the ground beside The Black Rabbit, picking up her broken form in gentle hands and lightly nudging the tapestry with one elbow. It had been expensive to purchase, but it would seem worth it as the battlefield began to glow, the remaining people and the defended innocents vanishing under the glow of a large arcane rune. The recruits taken with them for the ride as the large group stood in a rather extravagant mansion, or at least one that used to be extravagant, at the current moment it looked more worse for wear.

With a light huff he lifted a hand in the air and with a slam and click the mansion shut down, the windows closed and the doors shut and an arcane buzz ran through out the floor boards. They would be safe for now, or at least he hoped they would, a few of the younger nameless squeaked or sobbed after the ordeal and he took a moment to go around with the older members to re-assure them and comfort those whom had lost family or close friends in the battle. Eventually returning to his place as everyone but himself vacated to various parts of the mansion, ushering along children and teenagers with encouraging words even as they wiped the blood off of themselves, they had been through this ordeal before and it would not be the last time.

With his final reassuring smile given out, an angered frown hung across his face. His blonde hair grew out slightly and a beard pushed through his jowls to surround his mouth, a smokey grey colour that now matched his hair, he crossed his arms across his chest and stared down the group of recruits whom had stayed behind to assist for one reason or another. "You all stayed behind for a reason, but you're not out of the woods yet, I've got people to protect and I expect you to explain yourselves. The same offer from the recruitment stands, but only for those who are useful for more then just hitting, their is no room for cannons in a game of survival and I need people who can do more then just fight, people who have the right morals." He quickly affirmed, with a grunt and half a growl as he picked at a piece of rib that had pierced through his torso.

"Temporary lodgings are up the stairs and to the left, you each get a room to share with a person of your choice, choose wisely. Tomorrow morning once we've made sure we are under no further threat I will come to your rooms and each pair will individually explain their reasoning and justify why I should trust them with my people and to represent them in further guild games. If you make the cut I'll De-brief you and bring you up to speed on everything that's going on, and what exactly this world is, if you don't its the same deal as the recruitment. You go home. A certain red headed demon is resting in the farthest room facing the front of the building, those who require healing will find their lodgings sufficiently enhanced by magic for their particular needs." He said, turning without another word for a moment and heading between a gap that had created itself in the wooden stairs, stairs that now split into two pathways one to each side of the upper levels, as the gap closed and the stairs re-formed he gave the recruits a kind smile and half-whispered "Thank you, all of you." before the gap closed and he was lost within the walls of the stairs, unbeknownst to them immediately taking his place by the bed-side of a particular rabbit-eared woman, his fingers templed at a peak in front of his face, resting on an unstable thumping leg as he began his vigil by her side.

The recruits and any others that had been pulled along were left alone to decide their partners for lodging, the candelabra's lining the walls fluttering out as the flames died low and eventually extinguished to leave the mansion in darkness, after all the fluster and teleportation the mansion would have simply looked worn and empty and the darkness would serve to keep this true for the new comers to its fold, it was with a rush of wind that the upper west levels of the mansion lit up, a singular candle waiting on a table by the door of each lodging.

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane
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Ivan watched as the assumable leader of the nameless spread a tapestry and picked up the rabbit that had led the 'game' before everything got out of controll. The battlefield began to glow as his senses faded to his new location. The rats mace still in hand he found himself together with everyone else on that battlefield in an worn down mansion. The presumed leader lifted his hand and the mansion shut in on them. Windows and doors slammed shut, and the sense of arcane energy under the flooring made it clear to Ivan that even from below the place was shut. The man moved on to comfort the younger ones. Ivan wanted to help him, but he knew that a stranger with an heavy armament wouldn't be much of a reassurance, nor did he want to want to reassure them with words he'll have to eat later.

The nameless vacated the room under the guidance of the man, you could feel the sadness in the air. To Ivan it felt just like the day they were all forced out of Thylysium, battered and beaten the survivors had made it out of that place and even then they had to continue on fighting. He was his own broken smile in the man as he reassured the children and teenagers as they had lost their parents, just like how Ivan had done on that day and the week thereafter.

After the nameless had left the mans smile turned into an angered frown, in fact his very likeness seemed to change. As if he was being pushed forwards in age with years passing every second, untill he stood there bearded and grey haired. He crossed his arms and looked at the group. It seemed that they had done something very bad, but beyond ignoring the rabbit Ivan couldn't think of anything that they had done wrong, and even that didn't seem as something wrong.

"You all stayed behind for a reason, but you're not out of the woods yet, I've got people to protect and I expect you to explain yourselves. The same offer from the recruitment stands, but only for those who are useful for more then just hitting, their is no room for cannons in a game of survival and I need people who can do more then just fight, people who have the right morals." The man said a growl as he picked at something stuck piercing his torso. He then followed up by saying: "Temporary lodgings are up the stairs and to the left, you each get a room to share with a person of your choice, choose wisely. Tomorrow morning once we've made sure we are under no further threat I will come to your rooms and each pair will individually explain their reasoning and justify why I should trust them with my people and to represent them in further guild games. If you make the cut I'll De-brief you and bring you up to speed on everything that's going on, and what exactly this world is, if you don't its the same deal as the recruitment. You go home. A certain red headed demon is resting in the farthest room facing the front of the building, those who require healing will find their lodgings sufficiently enhanced by magic for their particular needs."

The stairs split in half making way for the man to take his leave and returned back to normal as the man silently spoke his thanks with a smile. "I don't exaclty know what to make of him. His heart is definatly in the right place, his words are sincere and he seems like a good leader overall. But I am not too keen on him holding back so much vital information, especially with the chance of another attack present. Well, he is gone now, so I might as well make due with what I have. Just like before. Now to find someone willing to share lodging with me..."

6 Characters Present

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane
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#, as written by Ankti
The battlefield was gone, and now they were in a house, a huge house. The posture of the Nameless spoke of rest, of safety. They felt comfortable in this place, even if the horror of the battle still lingered in their minds. Tiotio allowed herself to feel the same comfort, her body weary, longing for rest.

The leader walked among his people, his care and devotion to his followers obvious.

As she relaxed, Tiotio felt an animal instinct to retreat to somewhere isolated. To tend her wounds in a quiet place without being observed. She lept up and over heads, clammered up a large bookcase, and sprang out to a chandelier. She always felt safer at a height, looking down at the scene rather than taking part in it.

The chandelier swayed back and forth as she settled, resting her bo across her lap and watching down at the crowd below.

"You all stayed behind for a reason, but you're not out of the woods yet, I've got people to protect and I expect you to explain yourselves.” The leader continued, explaining they might still be allowed to join the Nameless, and that they would be given lodging for the night. When he was done he exited into a gap that closed behind him.

Tiotio considered his words as she studied the great hall they were in. Did she truly want to join the Nameless? It had not been her goal, simple knowledge was her goal, and she’d gained that. The Nameless where powerful, but few, and they faced great enemies. Without the intervention of outside aid, as in the battle, it seemed the Nameless might not be around very much longer.

The hall spoke of former glory, lost now to neglect. Cracks in the masonry were filled with dust. Webs covered most high surfaces, including the chandelier; white threads of it clung to her fur as angry spiders worked around her to fix the damage she’d done to their webs.

The man had mentioned the guild games, another topic she longed to know more about. She might gain the most knowledge about such things as a participant, and she might find no better chance to do that than with the Nameless.

Though she would have preferred to stay perched high in the chandelier all night, the mention of magics that might ease her body enticing. Below her people mingled now, uneasily, trying to find a companion to share a room with.

She dropped straight down, landing hard in the midst of the others, some staggering back in surprise. She spotted those who’d fought with her in the field, the little girl with the sword, magic Ivan, the beak masked-man, still caked in mud from their struggled against the rat.

It was appealing to approach one of them, but she longed to learn about those she’d not yet met. Her curiosity pulled her toward a strange figure who looked if anything, slightly bored at their surroundings. She was an imposing looking woman, with vibrant red eyes and white hair. Her skin was even more pale than her long hair, like she might have been carved out of a fresh snowbank.

Tiotio looked up at her, β€œDo you plan to stay? We might share a room if you do.”

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima
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#, as written by Zalgo
Pravus was ascending the hill from which the enemy had retreated from. As he climbed higher along the path to see where they were going off to something happened. He only managed to turn just in time to see the leader of this rag tag group of entities lay down a rather large rune inscribed on some form of cloth. This wouldn't of garnered even a fraction of his interest at that moment as he still had his duty to maintain if it were not for the light that enveloped the battlefield. Without warning Pravus was abducted from the scene of the battle.



Standing in the old halls of a luxurious mansion he peered from his marred mask, scanning his surroundings.
Is this another test? His mind kept it's battle ready edge keen for more challenges. Pravus wouldn't of been overjoyed but he would not of felt upset had this change been another trap sprung on him to fight through. What he got instead was the supposed leader who had yet to even introduce himself milling about the mildly crowded foyer with people who were not present at the battle. Pravus was no fool. It dawned on him quite quickly that this was not another challenge at all but a stop, an end to which the nameless leader yanked him to without his consent.

This figure went about consoling the residents as a shepherd tends to his flock. He felt no warmth in his heart for this so called kindness the leader had expressed to their own and his opinion of the man changed not. He listened as the man turned from his herd and faced the warriors from the battle they fought for him. This man shifted his appearance to give him a more veteran appearance before he spoke, a rather unimpressive magical ability as it is a familiar effect from his own society prior to it's gruesome downfall.


He listened to the man's words carefully as he spoke. He was ordinarily grim but this man had done something that displeased him greatly. Those who died on that battlefield were simply left to rot while the living got to rest, magic tending their needs like busy maids while this man struts about pretending to be a fatherly host. Because of what their leader did he was not able to bury those who died and give them their funeral rites. Almost anything else the nameless leader could of done would of been inoffensive but directly interfering with his duty was a direct offense to him. The grim dead had become graver.

Ordinarily this would be the point where he would of simply left these people to their fates and gone on back to bury the dead back at the battlefield but he was a careful listener. When the leader here said he would send them home he knew exactly what the man meant. Back home, back to Tiatha, back to Sed. There he still had to finish burying the rest of his people but even if he were bury them all he would need to come bury those that died at the battlefield as well. He could not omit a single person from this, to do so would mean failure on his behalf and he could not afford to fail his father again.

Despite that though he knew there would be some serious challenges with finding his way back to this realm. If he was to have any chance of returning to the field where all those who died at that battle still lay then he would need to remain here, at least for now. As much as the idea of proving himself to this two-faced shepherd felt wrong like the sensation of having one's thumbs trapped in thumbscrews he had little to no choice but to convince this man that he was needed here.


Lowering his head he turned his thoughts from this unpleasant predicament towards other concerns. He was rather damaged from the battle, most of his gear broken save for his trusty family shovel still firmly held in his hand but his first thoughts were not of himself but of the spirit he encountered during the battle. She and her living counterpart were of the most relevant interest to him for he was sworn to serve the needs of each spirit so that they may pass safely and comfortably into the afterlife. He would need to learn of how this girl managed to separate her spirit and remain active as soon as possible though. If the girl's spirit was torn from her body by dark magic against it's will or perhaps if it was simply the girls greed, forcing her own spirit to serve her, then he would be forced to release the spirit so it could pass on into it's designated afterlife freely. Other than that he would tend to it's needs until it is ready and able to move on from this world to the afterlife
of it's own belief.


He walked over to the swordswoman and her spirit, addressing Myon as he arrived within casual talking distance.
"Hello Myon. It is good to finally meet you under less hurried circumstances. I have been hoping to speak with both of you but the battle demanded my attention at the time. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier." He politely greeted them both, the spirit a bit more than the body as he is more familiar with Myon and he finds himself more comfortable speaking with fellow undead such as spirits and other reanimated entities capable of civility and conversation. Even though he was rather bitter about the current situation he found some comfort in the opportunity to speak with Myon freely now.

"My name is Pravus. It is a pleasure to meet you." He removed his blood stained mud caked glove and extended a rather clean but somewhat damaged hand to shake. Though she may be a spirit if she were to shake his hand she would find it just as solid as though her form was solid as well.

The setting changes from Phyrexian Grassland to The Garden

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The setting changes from The Garden to Phyrexian Grassland

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Character Portrait: NPC Sheet Character Portrait: 'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'
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Qwerty was still trying to wrap his head head around what just happened to the army of husks that were just here. Just as he was being over run, barely able to scrape a futile attempt to defend himself as he was covered in multiple wounds from the relentless shadowy minions, and despite his regenerative abilities, each healed wound was replaced with three more, the husks were suddenly being pulverized. Before the sludge monsters eyes, husks were battered, pummeled, beaten, crushed, and annihilated left right and center, the cause a mere blur as he wiped out the enemy forces, those attacking Qwerty included. As he scrambled towards the defensive line in a panic, Qwerty managed to catch a glimpse of the one responsible, a strange man with no facial features apart from red glowing eyes and a grin made of sharp pointed teeth, dressed in a fine suit and disappeared as soon a she arrived when retrieved a cane and top hat.
"Who the f*** was that? And how did that ba**** move so fast? It was him right? S***!", Qwerty snarled out to no-one in particular as he then slumped onto the ground in a mixture of exhaustion, being weighed down from his slowly healing injuries and frustration. In truth, he was relieved that the stranger had decimated the husks, but he was infuriated his lack of ability to have done it himself, especially by someone much smaller than he. After all, what use was a battle crazed monster that couldn't finish battles?

This question that was swimming around Experiment Sludgepile's head had no time to be answered, as it was replaced with thoughts of utter bafflement on his sense fading when a great flash of light occurred, replacing their surroundings with an aging but grand mansion, placing the members of The Nameless and the competitors that stayed in what seemed to have been quite exquisite and opulent, until time had done it's damage. Qwerty would have more time to enjoy this mansion as the widows and doors suddenly slammed shut, leaving him all the more confused but still immobile as he slowly healed, his puzzlement lowering bit by bit as he watched the Nameless comfort each-other, guild leader included, showing little concern for them as he swore under his breath at his injuries.
"Guess it was some magic stuff again, sure seems to be a lot more in the norm around these parts. Wherever that is.", he grumbled before his scowl changed to a slight grin as he found his leg was now functioning as normal, though the other was still dangling about from being hacked at. His expression reverted back to of disdain however, as he noted the through injuries from those husks beside his leg. His left arm was barely hanging on, his shoulder almost entirely cleaved through, while the other was still with a gaping hole at his elbow, while his chest and snakeish neck were littered with slashes, cuts, dents, and all sorts of wounds. Qwerty was lucky to be a pile of sentient plasmophlemge, he would of been very dead indeed otherwise, and he knew it.

"Great, more bloody hocus-pocus.", Qwerty then proceeded to complain as the guild leader slowly shifted into an older appearance, after his guild members had left the room, his smile replaced with a face of anger. Qwerty listened to his words with unusual worry until the powerful man left, via even more 'hocus-pocus' having split the wooden stairs in half as he wandered away through a gap he had made for himself, before the stairs came back together, shutting behind him.
Though the guild games sounded as if they held much promise of future violence for Qwerty, the slime based behemoth knew he had little other talents than combat, let alone morals that this group that mourned the dead and had genuine care for each other. He would have to lie his way in. He wasn't going to let the chance promised to him as he was transported into these lands slip away.

Qwerty now was left with a different predicament however; he would have to share lodgings. It was something he greatly un-accustomed to, often being given his own room due to his girth. He peered around at the other remaining competitors, fully confident that none of them would try to kill him in his sleep. Anyways, he could just return the favor and eat them while they were asleep. Qwerty sighed as he propped himself up clumsily, with his pair of pipes used as crutches, and sat up, before blabbing moodily; "Alright then, how the f*** are you lot? I'm Qwerty, may have heard of me, mercenary fella, made of plasmophlemge, good at hitting things with pipes. You ba****ds on the other hand I don't know anything about. Anyhow who wants to share a room? As long as you don't use some weird magic sh** when i'm sleeping"

9 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: River Saetyrix Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Kaula Vee-Ryn Character Portrait: 'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'
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It took him a moment to realize the woman wasn't going to respond, panicked as she was, possibly even in shock, He could feel the foul beasts weapons moving towards his wall of spiked death, the metal still red hot, it wouldn't cool for some time. It flared in heat with every breath he took, the cherry glow lighting up on his inhale and ebbing when he breathed out.

β€œThat's not normal.” He said. He could feel it. This wall, these thorns, this garden of red hot death, it was his, he could feel it in his bones, like an extension of his own arm he could feel it. It made him sick, corpses impaled on the ends were being cooked gradually, others already having caught fire, even still, their allies impaled on what passed for his fortress, the empowered dead marched on them.

β€œSome fool is out there...” He mouthed the words, a laugh almost spilling from his mouth as he said it. They must've been on the way to rescue these two. He thought, a grin splitting his face in that moment, β€œToo slow~” He said, his voice a singsong tone, the day was weighing on him, he could tell. The cacophony in his head had died down to a low rumble, but he could tell, if he needed more, he could call it forth. The repercussions for him however, would likely be bad.

He could feel their weapon as it swung, couldn't see it, didn't bother trying. They would be pushed back soon. The stranger that is. Into the burning phalanx. In his mind their was no point in seeing a dead man. He would find it ironic in years to come, just how literal those words were.

Just as he was ready to write them off as dead, a reasonable sacrifice in his opinion. One life for three others was a logical exchange, cheating death in a mathematical sense, the stranger burst through a gap in the wall. Insanity! His mind yelled, who would leap between a pair of forge hot, razor sharp spikes!?

Wayland lurched to his feet as shadows slammed against his barricade. A deep rumble echoing from his throat, the noise in his head completely silent. He was waiting again, calm like a bomb, just waiting to explode.

He called to the steel around them, he couldn't make more like he would have preferred. He could move it however. Making the area nearest the newcomer and himself thinner, less the burning phalanx, and more the smoldering fence. Why can't people stay as reasonable sacrifices, and not endanger my life? He joked internally

He used the excess to enshroud the wounded man and the woman with him in a metal dome resembling the closed bud of a flower. He reinforced it to the best of his ability, drawing the heat out as not to cook them, that done he turned his mind back to the battle.

Wayland was spent. Wayland was content, content to let this man fight as he watched, using the tiny power he had left to keep the wall up, and that was it. Well, if they do get in here, I can always retreat inside the flower. He thought, patting the surface of the now cooled construct proudly. I've done enough fighting for one day.

It wasn't much later, as he could feel the wall around them ready to collapse that he was preparing to retreat to secondary defensive position B, codenamed the flower in his head. It was actually only named, and codenamed in his head, but that was irrelevant. He'd admit the guy was a decent fighter. He could see that in his shovel, see part of the mans history in it, but that was irrelevant also. Not his past, and he never intended to fight using a shovel.

Anyway, his mind was wandering. He was slipping, so damned tired, he blinked, and stumbled forth in shock, he'd slumped against the flower asleep, in the middle of a battlefield. He couldn't see the shovel guy anywhere, so, either he was dead, or judging by the number of bodies, and the lack of sound across the field the battle was over, and he had slept through the end of it.

He shrugged, leaning back against the flower. Waiting for enough juice to return for him to let the people within out, when a glow ran across the ground beneath him, lighting up in some arcane language he'd never seen before. β€œThat's not-” His words cutting off mid-sentence as he was once again forcibly teleported across space to a new location. β€œ-normal.”

He'd found himself in an unfamiliar setting. The room, presumably even the whole house, once beautiful was now in a terrible state of disrepair. Cracks ran through the walls from the foundation settling, places where the ornately carved wood paneling should have been gilt in gold, silver, or other precious metals were bare, most likely torn loose to keep the obviously hard hit guild fed. He could understand that, what does it matter if you have the most beautiful home, if you yourself were starving to death in it?

He was too tired to flinch when the house locked down, seemingly by magic, too tired to question the fact that a few hours ago, he had though he was unique. Too damn tired to be lectured by the very people/person that had had them dragged into the conflict in the first place.

β€œBullshit.” Wayland spat as the old man had his say, and wandered off to god knows where. He made his way up the stairs, ignoring the still slight smoldering of his clothes, barely acknowledging anyone around him. He didn't even notice the lack of smoke from his mouth, or the odd chill in his body.

He nodded at the few people he recognized, from the battle and ignored those he didn't. His eyes lingered for a fraction of a second longer than he would normally consider decent on a certain silver haired woman, following her every move, igniting something primal in him. He found himself thinking about that as he shook off the alien feeling in his head, telling him to take her.

Between voices, hammers, and beautiful women. It was a wonder he was coherent at all. Those were Wayland's last thoughts before he crashed in the first empty room he came across.

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima
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#, as written by Ritnio
"O-Oh! Hello Mister! I do apologize about making such a fuss earlier, but as you put it... it was under different circumstances. I'm Myon Kirishima. The name was given to me by my Mistress, Aera Kirishima. As for why you specifically came to us...I assume you wish to be enlightened on just how it's possible for a human and it's soul to be side-by-side, hmm?"

Myon smiled and shook Pravus' hand, noting that he is able to touch non-existent matter. As she introduced herself and her physical form, Aera had finished cleaning her swords and sheathing them once more. Her facial expression seemed to have changed since leaving the battle field, for it was quite...blank. Her voice was also monotone and cold.

"Thank you for saving me Pravus. I will repay the debt someday. As my soul has explained, I am Aera Kirishima. I am the physical body in which Myon used to reside in. Since our separation, I have been 'incomplete' in a sense. Most emotions and desires were taken with Myon and I left with the necessary things to allow survival. Is there anything else you wish to know Pravus?"

The whole time she spoke, her dull, lifeless grey eyes stared back at Pravus as if she were performing an analysis for an unknown reason. Aera was only a kid in terms of appearance but depending on whether you spoke to the spirit or the body...your opinion may change as to how old she really is. She stood up straight, much like how a soldier would when in the presence of a superior. Between her actions and her words, one could say she is overly formal as well as too submissive and quick to degrade herself.

"I do not wish to impose, but I would like to ask, if you would like to share accommodations with me? You do not have to accept my offer but I would like you to consider it."

With a slight bow from Aera and a giggle from Myon, the pair politely waited for Pravus' response.

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Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima
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#, as written by Zalgo
Pravus listened to the two of them. Like Aera he was standing tall and formal like he would back in the ranks of his legion. Well, as tall as he could physically stand for now. The explosion down in the tunnel during the battle had apparently damaged some of the vertebrae in his spine causing a kink. This kink caused his whole upper body to lean slightly to the left at it's straightest.

The strange division which the two had found themselves in was quite fascinating to him. Her spirit possessed her goals and emotions while her body was left with her will and strength. A most curious dichotomy he mused in his thoughts. Of course he had other questions for them, one in particular.

"I do not wish to impose, but I would like to ask, if you would like to share accommodations with me? You do not have to accept my offer but I would like you to consider it."

"I would be honored to share quarters with you." He answered her, his tone not much different from Aera's though his voice was much deeper that hers. Luck appeared to change it's tune now for Pravus as the dilemma of having to find someone to share quarters with was resolved to his satisfaction. He would have little to no discomfort in operating out of the same room with a spirit and her warrior body. Her offer to further answer his questions still stood however and his curiosity pressed onward.

"I do have one more question if I may ask. If it is known, what circumstances lead to make you and Aera divided
as you are now?" He politely asked Myon and awaited a response.

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Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: River Saetyrix
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Ivan smirked slightly when a large blob yelled through the room. "I don't think we could have had a better example of a cannon. Loud, destructive and not usefull for much else than voilence." He thought as he walked up the stairs and to the left. If at all possible he didn't want to get stuck with the blob in a room, he'd rather not be bludgeoned with pipes during the night by an overly voilent blob.

"Compared to that blob I'd rather take my chances with a demon. Red headed demon, hmm, could the demon be the one who trew down those ice spikes in the fight earlier?" He thought as he made his way throught the candle lit hall, it was bright enough to see where walls ended and doors began and you could see the cracks and patches of missing plaster. With a slight tension, enhanced by the dim lighting, he found the room where the demon would be. Ivan knocked on the doorpost before entering. Inside he could see the mentioned demon, he seemed asleep. "Probably best if I just let him be and get myself ready to hit the hay myself. He thought as he placed the mace against the wall in the corner.

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Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima
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#, as written by Ritnio
Music

"I see you are more comfortable talking to your own kind. Very well then, I'll converse with you on the subject. Mmmm...it is quite complicated but I'm sure you'll understand it. A curse on my family caused the physical body of Edea Sahimiga, that is my birth name, to enter the Netherworld. That place is the halfway point to the afterlife I think. Upon entering, my soul was unable to leave the body as the body was not dead but was in the land of the dead causing a paradox. This meaning both the body and soul will die and not be reborn anew. However, a kind spirit freed me from my impending terminantion...but at the price of losing my 'humanity' in a sense that we are now a half human, half phantom abomination. It was the best she could do for us and I do appreciate it."

"Since that failed to satisfy the hexer, we were targeted by a couple brainwashed soldiers who stormed the house and killed Mother and Father. Master then saved us as he passed by and heard the screams. The damage was already done however. See, the hexer was hellbent on causing grief for the Sahimiga family because father had bested the hexer in a fight by using his own curses against him. This made him mad so he wanted revenge, and thus we became separated. Sahimiga was the last name of the family I...we were born into. A family of nobles."


"O-Oh my! It seems I have gone on for quite a while. Please forgive me for doing so, it is quite the bad habit. Ehehe."

Myon giggled, noticing she had rambled on for a lengthy amount of time explaining how the separation came to be. Another question was asked but this time the word came from the body and not the chatter-box soul. The monotone girl finished her spiel after asking another question.

"Pravus, your aura is...strange. It strongly resembles that of a Necromancer but more so of a Necromancer's familiar... Your life force is not present either. Are you by any chance, dead like half of myself is? I will also hazard a guess that you are a grave-tender and/or digger. How did this come to happen? Answer the question only if I am correct or relatively close...if not, disregard all that I have said."

Aera's eyes flashed a ravishing blood red color as she looked at Pravus' aura and life-force. When she finished talking she seemed quite dizzy and desperately trying to hide it. She turned to head for a room. Using her hand, she urged Pravus to follow her which implies she wishes to be filled in as they walk.

The setting changes from Phyrexian Grassland to The Garden

Setting

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Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
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#, as written by Layla
Image
Image

In These Shoes

"There is too much blood in my alcohol system."


It was an ordinary day, filled with ordinary happenings. Monsters sprouted from the shadows, a monkey saved lives, a cat lady was attacked by a hunk of metal, a humongous rat tossed aside magical creatures, a grave digger helped the living survive, she made a deal with an unstable top hat and an incubus with the appearance of an angel - who was also her hunt - kissed, and saved her. Mmm, maybe not so ordinary.

Still, Keres found her attention drifting, perhaps in part to her curious upbringing. In MithrandΓ­r, the realm of the Elves, time passed differently, sixteen years in MithrandΓ­r might be a thousand outside of it, or two. Thus the ivory haired girl had a strange and distorted perception of time. She felt the events before her stretch with excruciating slow motion and eventually, she ignored it altogether. The crimson symbols coiling around her body repelled the magic and chaos that flew about her without much of Keres' conscious effort. The war about them seemed to miss where she stood, nonchalant, by pure coincidence. It was anything but.

She was dimly aware of the Mad Hatter appearing to protect the Nameless from her wild comrades and she pondered upon his peculiar intentions. Who was he? Who was he to River, in particular? That he would hire a cruel creature such as herself for intel? Hah, imagine if they were father and son, she mused. The Beauty and the Beast. Keres had been gifted with keen instincts for as long as she could remember. She was abnormally perceptive, and all she knew was that if she succeeded, Apocalys would grant her her deepest, truest, oldest desire.

Freedom.




β€œDo you plan to stay? We might share a room if you do.”

Keres batted the boredom out of her eyes as they darted around in search of the origin of the voice only to find she was no longer in that crumbling world. Cracks danced along creaking walls and faded tiles as light flickered every few feet, illuminating worn doors. Her nose twitched at the unpleasant concoction of damp, old wood, metallic blood and salty sweat. Taverns overwhelmed by burly, sweaty, bloodthirsty and woman loving men smelled better than this.

Then she found the origin of the voice, a slight, animalistic figure. Well, she thought. This certainly might make it to the top ten list of strangest events of today. Did she want to share a room with this monkey? No, not particularly. She quite liked her solitude and she wasn't particularly sexually attracted to the figure before her to want to share her chambers with it. Yet it was likely that it had information for Keres that would prove useful. She was, after all, meant to assimilate into the Nameless recruits. The tattooed girl's features shifted, her lips unfurling into a warm grin that revealed two rows of white teeth and a dimple in her left cheek. She looked like a different person.

"Of course," she replied with a voice like honey. "I'm Keres," she introduced with a swift curtsy. "And you are?"

She noticed then a towering male stumbling about and crashing into an empty room. Keres raised a sculpted brow at his clumsiness. She manoeuvred her features into one of concern, her brows furrowed in worry. "Are you alright, sir?" she called out, taking a few steps toward him. He did not look well in the least, more so than even all the other weary figures. "Do you require help?" Alas, years of sitting, bored out of her mind, through Elvish High Court proceedings came to her aid. The countless curtseys and forced smiles had not gone to waste. Keres was a marvellous liar.

The Nameless would not know what hit them until it was much too late.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: River Saetyrix
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#, as written by duramon
[Null]

The setting changes from The Garden to Phyrexian Grassland

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Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: River Saetyrix
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#, as written by duramon
River had been having quite the experience, a blade was sticking out of his rib cage, a horrid curved thing that ended in a furred paw. He had always loved that blade, and its wielder, but they both knew it would come to this, they always had. The scene felt familiar, tears streaking down both of their cheek's in silence that brought with it an unspoken conversation, one that always ended the same. With an apology on the tip of both their tongues, it was at the point that he might actually voice his sorrow that he was jolted awake.

His golden eyes were imprisoned by weakness, unable to open his eyes as something worked its way into his system, no his soul, from the room. The sound of a knock came and another entered the room, what room exactly was unknown to him only that it had a functioning door and a soft bed, had he been any less frantic he would have simply allowed the inflation of his soul and fallen into slumber once more. However he had seen the dream too many times, and it was not in his nature to simply accept his surroundings.

It was with the clang of metal against the far wall that he finally jolted himself up from his position, his eyes forcing themselves open as he raised a weak arm. He would not be caught off guard, he had trained himself against that, he would not risk that in the wastelands! The arm pointed itself towards the intruder and it was with great exertion and opening of several wounds that from his bulging veins a frost began to grow quite quickly. The frost eventually gathering towards his fist and launching forward in the form of a large arm spike that halted around a foot before his intruders torso.

The Incubus sat there, huffing with sweat pouring down his body as his blurred vision attempted to make out the form of his intruder. "Who are you?!, Where is this and what do you want!?" He demanded with a slight growl.

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Character Portrait: Ivan Witherbane Character Portrait: River Saetyrix
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Ivan turned his eyes away from the mace and towards the room, only to see the demon now awake and aggressive. The demon launched an ice spike at him, stopping close to his torso. If it hadn't he probably wouldn't have been able to deal with it in time, though the healing magic would probably have done enough to keep him alive.

"Who are you?!, Where is this and what do you want!?" The demon growled at him. He seemed to be in quite a bad shape, with what seemed several re-opened wounds on his arm. As he slowly stepped away from the piercing front end of the ice spike he said: "My name is Ivan Witherbane. We are in what I believe to be the home of the nameless. Together with all others who stayed after the recruitment game at the labyrinth, and survived the battle, we have been given temporary lodging by whom appears to be the leader of the nameless." His words were slow and he spoke with a nervous tone, his heart was still racing after the sudden and unexpected attack from the demon.

He slowly sat down on the other bed in the room and took a deep breath. "Tomorrow morning, the leader of the nameless will pay each room a visit. He wants answers why we stayed when we were told to evacuate, and why he should trust you with his people and with their name. If you pass that... Test, he'll bring us up to speed on the situation." Ivan said with a more calmed down tone of voice. "Oh, and two more important things. It seems they want people that are more than just fighters, they seem to want people with a good moral compass. The other thing is... This room is enhanced with healing magic, so you might want to lay down and let it heal those wounds... And maybe about what you have to offer to the nameless beyond fighting." He said while looking at the wounds on the demons arm.

5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
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#, as written by Ankti
The white woman’s face glowed with a blinding smile. Tiotio could not help but smile in return, feeling welcomed by the kindness she saw.

"Of course," the white woman said. "I'm Keres," she bent in a graceful courtesy, "And you are?"

Before Tiotio could answer, Keres turned her attention to another recruit, one who looked in need of aid. The concern was so evident in her voice and posture that Tiotio almost felt bad for not noticing how many others were in need of care. She wondered if this woman was a healer.

But Tiotio was no healer and could not be expected to care for the others. Though Tiotio could ignore her pain and injury during battle, her body was broken in so many places, and meditative hum of battle was no longer distracting her. Her curiosity could not overwhelm her physical need.

β€œI am Tiotio,” she said to the Keres, β€œand I’ll secure us a room. I need to recover. I will go there now. If, when you arrive, you wish to speak further, please do not hesitate to disturb me.”

She darted across the room, casting quick glances at the other recruits as she passed, recalling suddenly that this had all started with a game that had meant to pit them against each other, to fight each other for a place among the Nameless. She realized now, that game might still be going on.

She noticed the beak-masked man and the small girl talking to each other, she leapt over them, patting the man on the top of the head in a friendly gesture before turning down a hallway and entering a small room.

Two identical beds sat on either side of the room. There was a small wash basin on a table between them. Small bookshelves hung from the walls above each bed, bare, except for piles of dust and dead insects.

Instantly Tiotio could feel the magic the Nameless leader had spoken of. It made her drowsy, like a warm wave flowing through here, luring her to sleep.

She did not succumb, thinking about the game, about the challenge set on them by the Nameless. Surely the attack only strengthened their desire for worthy recruits, and with their test interrupted, they would find other ways to sort through those who remained.

Rather than let the warm waves now rippling through her lull her into the bed, Tiotio scrambled up the wall and perched on the narrow bookshelf. She rested her bo across her lap and closed her eyes, pushing her mind into a shallow meditative state, allowing her thoughts to peter out until emptiness filled her mind.

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima
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#, as written by Zalgo
Pravus listened with great attention to Myon's tale of her unusual birth and heritage.
So... The result of a curse she happened to escape from leaving her in such state. Someone must of used some
truly abhorrent magic to do such a thing. Not that mages would be above such things.

Pravus dwelled a moment on their condition before Myon had apologized for going on longer than she had intended.

Of course Aera in turn had questions for him, ones which he would apparently be answering on the way to their quarters.
She appeared to have used some sort of power on him as her eyes flashed a deep crimson before she became somewhat taxed even though her poise was still held strong. As he was about to go to their destination with them there was a light pressure upon his head, followed by the monkey person landing ahead of them and darting off. He shrugged, only mildly noting the event before he proceeded alongside Myon and Aera, telling them about himself with good detail as she had done for him.

"You are correct. I am one of the undead as well as a grave tender. How I was brought back I do not know. All I know is that a strange magic roams where the dark spirits left their black marks back on my world. Many bodies had risen up, some like myself and others not even close to human in build and demeanor. I have yet to meet any who have managed to retain their minds as I have."

"As to my duty as a grave tender that is my family occupation. My family for countless generations has ensured that spirits are not displeased or distracted by their treatment on this world so they can leave to their chosen afterlife. My purpose is to give each and every spirit the respect they deserve before they pass on, allowing them to find their way."

He looked over from Aera to Myon, addressing her now. "My duty is to you as well. I shall do everything within my power for you both until you find what you need and are able to finally enter the afterlife of your choosing. If there is anything you need of me you need only ask."

They arrived in front of a room in a suitable location. He stepped ahead of them and opened the door, holding it open for the two of them in a gentlemanly manner. He simply waited for them to enter the room before he'd close the door behind him.

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
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It seemed like he had only been asleep for seconds when a voice like warm honey ran through his head, washing away his drowsiness with a strangely warm buzzing, asking after his own well being.

He could tell it hadn't been long by the sound of the other recruits still getting settled in, visiting with one another, or breaking down, and crying. There are worse ways to wake up. He decided, as he hoisted himself onto his side, then into a rough sitting position using the last of his strength.

It was the woman from before, the one that he'd seen downstairs talking to the simian woman. Her ethereal beauty as vibrant as ever, near taking his breath away as she took a graceful few steps towards him.

Do I require help? He thought, glancing at his surroundings. Noting his place on the floor, and his seeming inability to stand under his own power. His body felt so heavy, and he was cold. Something he hadn't felt in a long time.

He mustered up the energy to give her his best smile, a cocky half grin, coupled with his tiredness. β€œI could use help into one of these beds.” He finished his sentence with a slight jerk of his head towards the closest bed in the room.

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Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima
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#, as written by Ritnio
After entering the room, Aera and Myon spoke simultaneously as they stated their opinion.

"I'd much rather live my life trying to be human than taking a short cut into death's embrace. I was meant to be a human so a human I shall try to be."

Myon became rather solid in form after the talking ceased. She seemed very surprised that she was able to do so. Mainly because there isn't enough energy present for her to manipulate into a temporary physical form. As happy as she was, being able to take human form, the happiness went away when she found the ground getting really close really fast.

"Hyaaa! I-I fell.... I-I guess I'm not used to walking yet... Still... the amount of spiritual energy present in this place is amazing! I can actually form a physical body! I guess this place is special..."

She had fallen face first onto the ground. When she tried to stand up again she was using Pravus as a sort of pole or wall to support her. Aera hung the shorter of the 2 swords on the wall while keeping the longer one with her. She was practically hugging it as she lay in her bed. The cherry blossom insignia on the sheath was quite beautiful as the pink stood out on the pitch-black sheath. There was also a small flower which was tied to the sheath as well. The flower was small and a magenta-like color. It seemed real but in fact it was artificial.

"...Master..."

Aera mumbles to herself and rolls over feeling a little depressed and doesn't want Pravus seeing her cry. Myon, knowing what was going on explained briefly what was happening.

"That sword was our Master's sword. his Father's Father's Father's Father forged the blade and crafted the handle using the metallic bones of a great demon he had slain... The sheath was woven using leather made from the beast's skin which was tougher than it's bones. It took him 30 years to make the sword. It was passed down from father to son, once the son bested the father in swordsmanship. It was Master's family heirloom and he had passed it on to us after...that day... It is very dear to us. The flower we tied to it represents his eternal memory. The flower wont wilt nor die as it is fake. It symbolizes that we wont let Mas...Grandpa's memory die."

Myon fell silent once she finished. She leaned on Pravus but seemed to have tired of her physical form and thus reverted back into her spiritual self. She didn't say anything else, rather she waited for Pravus to say something.

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender Character Portrait: Aera Kirishima
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#, as written by Zalgo
"I'd much rather live my life trying to be human than taking a short cut into death's embrace. I was meant to be a human so a human I shall try to be."

He understood them perfectly. To die without living one's own life to it's fullest is not just, to not call out this injustice would be unnatural. He had no intention of hurrying them to their grave.

"I do not propose taking any shortcuts. I have lived on well past my own due, to tell you otherwise would be hypocritical."
He explained to them. Myon was able to take her human form, collapsing suddenly from being unused to standing.

"Hyaaa! I-I fell.... I-I guess I'm not used to walking yet... Still... the amount of spiritual energy present in this place is amazing! I can actually form a physical body! I guess this place is special..."

He helped her up from the floor, letting her use him to support herself. He thought about what she had just said, looking down at his left glove and flexing what few fingers he still had on. She's right. I feel stronger here. Still, my wounds are not healing. They cannot heal for I am already dead. I'll need to repair myself. He dwelled on the magical energy of this room but upon coming to a logical conclusion he spoke again about what he had said.

"To be human is to accept that you will die. Ten years, a hundred years or even a thousand. It matters not how long you choose to remain but one day you must move on. Until you do, I will do whatever you wish of me."

When he was done speaking Aera had hung up her sword and went to rest on a bed alongside her main sword. He listened carefully while Myon expressed to him the importance and history of that sword. He respected the ties Aera bore with her blade as he too carried with him the memories of his father everywhere he went in the form of his shovel. He turned his cold hardened gaze to Aera, peering through the dark sunken holes in his mask.

"I understand. I honor the spirit of my father and each of his fathers before him with this shovel as you honor your grandfather's lineage with your blade." He spoke with a deep respect for her. He always respected the dead and too often did he feel others not respect the fallen as much as they should. Between that and a kindred spirit of commitment to their families he appreciated Aera and Myon Kirishima even more than he did before.

With Myon having taken back to her spectral form he went over a table and sat down. He took out from the concealment of his tattered brown cloak a smashed up mortician's kit. Normally he used it on other people's bodies to prepare them for their funerals but on some occasions he's used it to repair himself on the occasions he's been hurt after his reanimation. Though it couldn't be seen, he frowned as this was quite inconvenient. He took the glove off his right and and rolled up his sleeves to see the damage to his arm. A couple broken links tumbled out of the sleeve, scattering across the table. While his body had seen better days it was his armor that had weathered the full brunt of the damage done to him. He would need more that just a table and a bunch of broken and bent tools to repair this.

The setting changes from Phyrexian Grassland to The Garden

Setting

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tiotio Character Portrait: Keres Leventis Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
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#, as written by Layla
Image
Image

She's So Mean by Matchbox 20

"I know a girl, she gets what she wants all time cause she's fine."


β€œI am Tiotio,” the monkey replied, her expression as polite and unyielding to emotion as ever. β€œand I’ll secure us a room. I need to recover. I will go there now. If, when you arrive, you wish to speak further, please do not hesitate to disturb me.”

This animal speaks with better grammar than I do, Keres thought with a wry smile that she masked with a flutter of her sleeves. The chiffon material rippled with every flicker of her wrist and the butterflies beaded into them batted their wings at Tiotio. Keres lowered her arm and gave her newly gained roommate a gentle smile. "Of course. You must be worn. Rest well, Tiotio," Keres said before the creature went away with an uncanny grace. Not soon after, the man who'd stumbled into a room replied.

β€œI could use help into one of these beds,” he rumbled, his voice low and full even in injury. He had a fiery presence to him, a gaze like molten fire, a body rough around the edges and a face carved in sharp lines and stubble. If that were not enough to rustle her curiosity, his wicked grin was. She'd seen many men and women, human or otherwise, in her long, long stretch of existence - the devastation she'd endured when she awoke to a world withered and renewed whilst she'd stayed still. So. Very. Still. The weaving of bitterness and cockiness in his smile was one she recognised. He was a man who'd lost someone - perhaps more than just one - and there was nothing more dangerous than a man who'd lost a part of himself. She would be careful. She watched him for a few milliseconds, her assessing gaze imperceptible to anyone but the truly observant and experienced, as she attempted to pin his face to the images she'd gathered of the Nameless recruits.

Ah, Brimstone. Metal Man.

Keres had heard much about him. Rumours of course, but all lies had truth, if you could read between the lines. She replied him with her own entrancing, dimpled smile, furrowing her neat brows into one of concern. She hastily rushed toward him, his hands gently wrapping around his. Keres wrapped one of his arms over her shoulders as one of her own wrapped around his waist, and the other gripped the hand around her. "I apologise if this hurts," she said gently before hauling them both onto their feet with effort. "My," she huffed. "You are heavier than you look."

They stumbled to the nearest bed and she released him onto the mattress, gulping in breaths. Keres laughed, a small, ironic melody. "I expect to be carried much more elegantly by you should I require it, soldier," she teased. Keres pressed a hand over her mouth as a soft yawn slipped through. "Sorry," she mumbled, her mouth feeling heavy. She stumbled from foot to foot, blinking slowly as she gazed around the room. The crimson tattoos swirling around her arms shifted restlessly but ever so slightly, like livings things, trying to push the magic from her body. Keres reigned them in, not wanting to alarm the tall Nameless recruit. Not yet, she told the magic humming beneath her skin. Do not show them your power. Not yet. Besides, she was tired. Fingers poked and prodded at the edges of her vision. All magic has a price. And this is mine.

In order to follow River - whom she was certain would make it amongst the Nameless - and to infiltrate the guild, she must become a Nameless. Keres had to pass this phase of the mission. There was so much she wanted, but one above all else, and only Apocalys could give it to her. She would win, whatever the cost. Whoever Keres had to befriend, whoever she had to kill, she would.

"I should go," she muttered to Brimstone or herself. She turned her head to the weary figure on the bed as if seeing him for the first time, ivory strands slipping over her shoulder. Keres glowed in the darkness like a white angel - or a ghost. She tugged the blanket over him and appeared to absently brush his dark hair from his face. He's quite handsome. "Rest well."




When she took her first step into her room, she saw nothing. Where is the monkey? There. Keres kept her gaze atop a bookshelf and observed for a while the small figure. She took the bed closest to the door, folding her legs and resting her head on a knee. Keres wondered if she should disturb her roommate or simply leave her be. The answer was clear. She needed information and she needed alliances to be formed.

"So what is your story, Tiotio?" she asked softly as to not startle the still figure. "What brings you to these deadly tournaments?"

View All »Arcs

Arcs are bundles of posts that you can organize on your own. They're useful for telling a story that might span long periods of time or space.

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Events

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Game Master Controls

Welcome home, Promethean. Here, you can manage your universe.

Arcs

Arcs are bundles of posts from any location, allowing you to easily capture sub-plots which might be spread out across multiple locations.

Add Quest » Quests

You can create Quests with various rewards, encouraging your players to engage with specific plot lines.

Add Setting » 6 Settings for your players to play in

Settings are the backdrop for the characters in your universe, giving meaning and context to their existence. By creating a number of well-written locations, you can organize your universe into areas and regions.

Navigation

While not required, locations can be organized onto a map. More information soon!

Kerris, Northern Corner

Kerris, Northern Corner by duramon

The Norther Corner of The Garden, a floating city reliant on its vast hub of guilds and sky trade routes.

Terralis

Terralis by duramon

The Eastern Corner of The Garden, vast cities spread across the tops of ancient and nearly indestructible mushrooms grown from the earth. All things natural, pure magic and genetic tampering are the norm here, seen vastly as the symbol for peace.

Kreigland

Kreigland by duramon

The Western Corner of the Garden, home to the hardiest monsters and roughest terrain. Will and Law is an Iron fist and its residence and guilds hold true to this standard, Kreigland is known for its seclusion from the other corners and cities.

Thawmound, Southern Corner

Thawmound, Southern Corner by duramon

The Southern Corner of the Garden, A city sunk into the glaciers of ancient ethereal ice. Kind-hearted and hardy are the people here, and ironically its trade of food and all things heat-related is well known in The Garden.

Phyrexian Grassland

Phyrexian Grassland by duramon

Vast plains of grass and large fields were the norm at one point here near Kerris, but after a game with a Demon Lord the Phyrexian Grasslands are withered and barren waste-lands devoid of all but a tiny almost village area home to The Nameless.

Add Group » 0 Factions to align with

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Collectibles

By creating Collectibles, you can reward your players with unique items that accentuate their character sheets.


Once an Item has been created, it can be spawned in the IC using /spawn Item Name (case-sensitive, as usual) — this can be followed with /take Item Name to retrieve the item into the current character's inventory.

Mobs

Give your Universe life by adding a Mob, which are auto-replenishing NPCs your players can interact with. Useful for some quick hack-and-slash fun!

Mobs can be automated spawns, like rats and bats, or full-on NPCs complete with conversation menus. Use them to enhance your player experience!

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Spawns

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Character Portrait: Kaula Vee-Ryn
29 sightings Kaula Vee-Ryn played by MaliceInWonderland
"I know who and what my father is, I simply do not agree with him." WIP

The Forge

Use your INK to craft new artifacts in The Garden: An Arcadian Boneyard. Once created, Items cannot be changed, but they can be bought and sold in the marketplace.

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View All » Add Character » 20 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
Character Portrait: River Saetyrix
Character Portrait: NPC Sheet
Character Portrait: Regulus Arcanus
Character Portrait: Dan Breeze
Character Portrait: Tiotio
Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor
Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender
Character Portrait: Keres Leventis
Character Portrait: Irina Neventelde
Character Portrait: Spindel Peridot
Character Portrait: 'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'
Character Portrait: Mathew Miles

Newest

Character Portrait: Mathew Miles
Mathew Miles

"Not going to live for nobody else, not going to die for anybody else either"

Character Portrait: 'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'
'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'

The manic, battle-hungry, extra-gluttunous, senient pile of Plasmophlemge

Character Portrait: Spindel Peridot
Spindel Peridot

"when you spend a couple thousand years in hibernation, you tend to forget some things."

Character Portrait: Irina Neventelde
Irina Neventelde

"I'm not just gonna listen to you, y'know. Idiot. Don't even try it!"

Character Portrait: Keres Leventis
Keres Leventis

"Some people think I'm narcissistic, but I like to think I'm just self-aware."

Character Portrait: Pravus the Grave Tender
Pravus the Grave Tender

"I shall bury them all. When you die, I shall bury you too."

Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor
Seriene Arvor

A devout novice battle priest of the Naaru and a once firm defender of Karabor.

Character Portrait: Tiotio
Tiotio

"Do not seek for the truth, only stop having an opinion."

Character Portrait: Dan Breeze
Dan Breeze

"Wanna scuffle! I'll scuffle! I'll scuffle right proper!"

Trending

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
Wayland "Brimstone" Smith

"Hammer and anvil! Can you hear their beat? Can you hear the screaming? Can you hear the keening of the blades?"

Character Portrait: Dan Breeze
Dan Breeze

"Wanna scuffle! I'll scuffle! I'll scuffle right proper!"

Character Portrait: 'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'
'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'

The manic, battle-hungry, extra-gluttunous, senient pile of Plasmophlemge

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet
NPC Sheet

Tags general NPC's, holds information on important figures (When I get around to it)

Character Portrait: Irina Neventelde
Irina Neventelde

"I'm not just gonna listen to you, y'know. Idiot. Don't even try it!"

Character Portrait: River Saetyrix
River Saetyrix

An extremely laid back Incubus with the wit of a sarcastic feline.

Character Portrait: Mathew Miles
Mathew Miles

"Not going to live for nobody else, not going to die for anybody else either"

Character Portrait: Spindel Peridot
Spindel Peridot

"when you spend a couple thousand years in hibernation, you tend to forget some things."

Character Portrait: Keres Leventis
Keres Leventis

"Some people think I'm narcissistic, but I like to think I'm just self-aware."

Most Followed

Character Portrait: NPC Sheet
NPC Sheet

Tags general NPC's, holds information on important figures (When I get around to it)

Character Portrait: Seriene Arvor
Seriene Arvor

A devout novice battle priest of the Naaru and a once firm defender of Karabor.

Character Portrait: 'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'
'Qwerty' aka Experiment 'Sludgepile'

The manic, battle-hungry, extra-gluttunous, senient pile of Plasmophlemge

Character Portrait: Spindel Peridot
Spindel Peridot

"when you spend a couple thousand years in hibernation, you tend to forget some things."

Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
Wayland "Brimstone" Smith

"Hammer and anvil! Can you hear their beat? Can you hear the screaming? Can you hear the keening of the blades?"

Character Portrait: Keres Leventis
Keres Leventis

"Some people think I'm narcissistic, but I like to think I'm just self-aware."

Character Portrait: Irina Neventelde
Irina Neventelde

"I'm not just gonna listen to you, y'know. Idiot. Don't even try it!"

Character Portrait: Dan Breeze
Dan Breeze

"Wanna scuffle! I'll scuffle! I'll scuffle right proper!"

Character Portrait: River Saetyrix
River Saetyrix

An extremely laid back Incubus with the wit of a sarcastic feline.


View All » Places

Kerris, Northern Corner

Kerris, Northern Corner by duramon

The Norther Corner of The Garden, a floating city reliant on its vast hub of guilds and sky trade routes.

Terralis

Terralis by duramon

The Eastern Corner of The Garden, vast cities spread across the tops of ancient and nearly indestructible mushrooms grown from the earth. All things natural, pure magic and genetic tampering are the norm here, seen vastly as the symbol for peace.

Kreigland

Kreigland by duramon

The Western Corner of the Garden, home to the hardiest monsters and roughest terrain. Will and Law is an Iron fist and its residence and guilds hold true to this standard, Kreigland is known for its seclusion from the other corners and cities.

Thawmound, Southern Corner

Thawmound, Southern Corner by duramon

The Southern Corner of the Garden, A city sunk into the glaciers of ancient ethereal ice. Kind-hearted and hardy are the people here, and ironically its trade of food and all things heat-related is well known in The Garden.

Phyrexian Grassland

Phyrexian Grassland by duramon

Vast plains of grass and large fields were the norm at one point here near Kerris, but after a game with a Demon Lord the Phyrexian Grasslands are withered and barren waste-lands devoid of all but a tiny almost village area home to The Nameless.

Phyrexian Grassland

Vast plains of grass and large fields were the norm at one point here near Kerris, but after a game with a Demon Lord the Phyrexian Grasslands are withered and barren waste-lands devoid of all but a tiny almost village area home to The Nameless.

Thawmound, Southern Corner

The Southern Corner of the Garden, A city sunk into the glaciers of ancient ethereal ice. Kind-hearted and hardy are the people here, and ironically its trade of food and all things heat-related is well known in The Garden.

Terralis

The Eastern Corner of The Garden, vast cities spread across the tops of ancient and nearly indestructible mushrooms grown from the earth. All things natural, pure magic and genetic tampering are the norm here, seen vastly as the symbol for peace.

Kerris, Northern Corner

The Norther Corner of The Garden, a floating city reliant on its vast hub of guilds and sky trade routes.

Kreigland

The Western Corner of the Garden, home to the hardiest monsters and roughest terrain. Will and Law is an Iron fist and its residence and guilds hold true to this standard, Kreigland is known for its seclusion from the other corners and cities.

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