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I'm an Assassin. Noob. 0.19895287958115 19.9% [ 38 ]
Soooo, how do I get to level 4? 0.094240837696335 9.4% [ 18 ]
I could GM a cool Bounty plot... 0.089005235602094 8.9% [ 17 ]
Why hasn't anyone done this before?!?! 0.094240837696335 9.4% [ 18 ]
So I heard something about this 'Market' idea. >3 0.10994764397906 11.0% [ 21 ]
Poll Whore~ 0.41361256544503 41.4% [ 79 ]
Total Votes:[ 191 ]
Leonardo -S- Virunas's avatar

Eloquent Warlord

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"Psionic's, and powers of consciousness are inherent of any comprehensive entity. The Divine is a branch of a pre-existing divinity, while the arcane can continue to exist even with nobody to read it. Knowledge that can exist separate from consciousness." Leonardo's opinions would sway from one point of logic to another, comprehending a sense of understanding in spite of the vague description of such broad powers. The Count could easily poke holes in the languid monstrosities point of view, who would lift his caressing gaze in a semblance of nostalgia before settling them on Zantara.

"I don't make many public appearance's on my world's, and don't rule over them with an adamant will. They all harbor free will, even if life isn't always lotus's and rose's there." In truth, Leo's original travesty was the creation of his own physical dimensional universe where within its separate pocket of space time he was able to manipulate every aspect of its existence. He'd thus far only populated five planets with intelligent creature's of every mortal life across countless physical dimensions Leo had encountered, a life taken, and rebirth. A hands off type of approach that sustained its self better than his own establishment within the Gaian universe.

"I don't do anything for free, and you're currently indulging in an advanced loan as it is. The next level is where I'll set up the forge for you, and explain its simplified function." Offering a smile when expressing the more merchant aspect of Leo's own charismatic personality. Curiosity, inspiration, and charisma. Attribute's attuned to most every aspect of Leonardo, whose physical body represented a diversity equally as distinct.
count_zantara's avatar

Familiar Lunatic

"Which is probably why I don't like it. I don't like things that you can just pick up a book and learn."

He replied, completely bypassing the point of that it took a certain sort of mind to learn Arcane magic or that for all of his technological know-how, it all came down to book learning... at least somewhere along the line. He could have debated the stance on divine magic, but he had better things to do.

"Don't remind me, Leonardo. I already am regretting the bill I'm going to get for all of this....how about we work on settling the first bill before we get into the next in me possibly getting a new body for this Aspect.

Chuckling as he listened to the voices in his head that kept telling him that this really was going to blow up in his face, the old Cleric picked up his staff as he slid the book into the satchel on his hip along with the simple ring.

"I think we're done here for now. But please... lets get to the Forge before I fall any more into your debt, my friend. Any deeper and I don't think I'd ever be able to pay you back.

Leonardo -S- Virunas's avatar

Eloquent Warlord

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"The favor will be mine to decide, which is no reassurance beyond my affinity for randomness."

A true fact, as Leo often sought to inspire before thinking of self gain. Zantara owing Leo a favor was a kin to one elementary school kid giving some of his lunch to another with the pretense of some thoughtful favor later. The more malevolent nature of Leonardo's tendencies tended towards specific types of people and creature's, usually reflecting qualities of those around him. Perhaps in this instance he was reflecting some bit of the Count himself, initiating their navigation further down mile's below the surface of the Malevolence above.

"I'll leave you to your device's here."

With a resonating halt, they would both stand in what appeared an endless nothingness. From this nothingness a single wooden chest would rise up out of the invisible ground, Leonardo bending over to open it with a nonchalant whistling before reaching his left arm in to the shoulder. Appearing to feel about for a brief second, he'd use his right hand to steal the last drag from the favored narcotic before flicking it off with a confirming nod.

"Speak, and this soul shall listen and obey. Seishio. Construct."

Grasping a pulsing dull orange orb of coalescing light, Leo would flick his wrist as if to try to remove it before it dashed off to illuminate a small torch flame on the formless ground between them. This single action sprouting a larger orange flame to sprout from the bottom and envelope the original, growing before its previous typical flame shape began to collect into a molten semblance of some manner of a larger furnace and smithy. The soul of an once great master smith given governance over the other souls within its wooden chest, Leonardo allowing from that point for Zantara to vocally instruct the soul forge. Physical smithy aided in this specifically designed forge from a soul dedicated to its every aspect.
count_zantara's avatar

Familiar Lunatic

Noding in silence as he followed Leonardo, Zantara began to mentally condition his mind for the work ahead. watching ever motion of the God he called friend.

It was actually kind of strange for him to actually say that mentally in the same sentence. Shaking his head in amusement as the Soul Forge began to form around the two of them, Zantara spoke softly.

"Seishio....speak to me."

With a slight twitch as Zantara made connection with the Soul Force, his eyes took on a soft golden glow. Bowing deeply to Leonardo, he spoke to the man, his voice echoing ever so gently.

"We thank you, Leonardo.... from the bottom of our black little hearts."

Turning away, the Count walked towards a nearby workbench, mentally speaking to the Forge. As it began to move, shadowy creatures forming around his feet, Zantara leaned his staff against the workbench and removed the hat and shades, leaving them on the table. Stopping for a moment, he took a deep breath before removing his coat and vest, rolling the sleeves of his silk undershirt up to his elbows.

As a small platform rose out of the ground in front of the forge, the Count had removed his shoes and socks, setting them aside right under the lip of the table. Lowering himself onto the small platform, the Count fell into a meditative trance, his pale lips speaking a mantra under his breath.
A young man walked up to the Malevolence of Innocence, his clothes were covered in a layer of traveling dust. In his right hand he held a brown leather duffle bag that held the needed supplies to spend the night in the woods. The young man had heard of this bar, it was said to house various strong people and creatures, he hoped to find people here who could help him improve his martial art style. He had however no clue how they could possibly do it, but at the very least he was going to ask around and see if it was possible. Even if this wasn’t possible he might be able to get a fight or two and if these people were so strong as rumored that experience would be welcomed.

With those thoughts in his mind he finally pushed open the front door and took in the sights, the bar at the far end, the two lounge like areas and the patrons. The patrons were… unusual to say the least, a bit surprised and not quite up to confronting people just yet he quietly turned to the right and sat down in a love seat that was not taken. He plunked down his duffle bag next to him and opened it up. From the bag he took a worn-out book and opened up somewhere halfway.

From his love seat he had an overview over the entire bar, he started reading his book but every now and then he would glance over the bar. He hoped that perhaps somebody would approach him or if he could find somebody who was also alone or not yet engaged in a conversation with other people. For now he would relax and gauge the atmosphere, he wanted to avoid pissing people off and started a fight. Sure, he was looking to fight people, but he wasn’t looking for dead matches, he wasn’t ready to die just yet.

OOC: This took too ******** long for this pathetic morsel of a post xD
Trees. Goddamn it all, trees trees and more trees! Pissed at himself for turning down the option of proper transport out to the Malevolence, Never had been on the road for a good hour or so now. He had reasoned against a vehicle as 'It'll be a scenic walk' 'It won't be far' 'It would be good to stretch my legs' and the all stupid 'I need to leave the city.' No more, never again would he leave urban life behind to trek through the forests. Forget the shabby road, it was in shambles and littered with bottles and god knew what. Even now he cursed at each 'rock' that presented itself before his path. Who knew what pissed where he stepped or what beast defecated where.

He was slumming it, that was for sure. Instead of his usual name brand, top tier attire ready to amaze and impress, he was rocking black denim jeans, a vintage T-shirt, charcoal blazer, and some rip off chuck taylors. If he had been wearing real Chucks and walking this abysmal path, he'd of been ready to off himself. Unruly black hair whipped about before his dark slate eyes, the wind howling through the trees as he drew closer to his destination and grumbled, "finally."

Walking in casually, he zoned in pretty snappy like to his quarry. Turning sharply and approaching the fireplace to the left of the entry where Sharlen was looking pretty snug in some bright crimson blanket. With his hands in his pockets, his fingers fiddled idly at a few crisp hundred dollar bills as he approached. Nodding his head upwards, he acknowledged her before looking around the place. Despite having a shitty location, Never had to admit it had a certain appeal. Some of the patrons, not so much. Some shadowed thing seemed to be eyeing up all the patrons and Never wasn't rocking the vibes the thing was throwing down. ******** it though, not his problem and not his area of expertise. Men and a woman at the bar, doing that whole 'bar' chit chat that usually proved helpful in some scenarios and then there was that guy Dorian being chatty chatty with some chick.

Dorian's presence threw him, he had assumed Shar would always leave this place as off limits to those he worked with and for as well as her own motley crue. He had broken the rule but seeing the rule had already been undone, Never didn't pay it much hesitation. Yet Dorian, why of all people Dorian? Mayhaps he'd get an answer if he asked her, he'd keep the question in mind.

"Hey," best ease into things he reckoned, "got a sec to spare?"

// complicates any progress for a Sharlen-related post by interjecting //
TehKouga's avatar

Aged Codger

Leonardo S. Tensatsu


Tre-Qarnayia Sikandar


.: Ooc - Sorry for the delay, everyone. Had some family business pop up this weekend. I'm back and will be more reliable now :.

Mitsuki had been spacing out, deep in thought. He was remembering once more what he set out to do. The task he had before himself. The thoughts had obsessed him, devoured him, corrupted him from the inside out. He imagined standing over his body, looking down at the crushed and beaten form before him. Hands stained with blood.. Some sharp sound in the background of the general din in the bar caused him to jump slightly, shaking out of his reverie. He looked up at Leo, the shadow, snake and lastly, the girl. His normally clear eyes were clouded, confused. Something weighed heavily upon him, causing his broad shoulders to visibly slump under the pressure. In response to her question, he started to respond, then glanced around at the bar. This wasn't a secure place to speak, and he couldn't trust who might be listening. He had already once had to slip by a bounty hunter that had been searching for the same person he was; he couldn't risk further delays.

"I'm sorry, I'll have to tell you my sob story another time. That alcohol upset my stomach.. I think I should go lie down. If anyone needs me," His gaze turned between the girl and Leo, "I'll be in my room." He rose from the table, picking up the room key with the "4" visible as he gathered his cloak around him and headed off to his room.

Once in his room, Mistuki conducted a sweep of the room, checking for traps both mundane and magical to what extent he knew how; he couldn't detect all forms of magic but his spirit half gave him a little bit of magical sense. He could pick up certain forms of astral and shadow-realm magic, but psychic magic or purely arcane spy techniques would be entirely beyond him. So he secured the room as best he could, then dropped his traveling gear on the bed and began to unpack. He removed the cloak, the weighted net, the throwing knives and vambraces. He removed the leather tunic, his belt and boots, leaving him in a just a black tank top and his trousers. He still had a knife strapped to his ankle, and he took one of the knives from his belt, placed it under his pillow, and flopped down on the bed, one hand holding the knife. He was exhausted and weary. For now.. sleep. Though any slight knock at the door would wake him to any guests.
count_zantara's avatar

Familiar Lunatic

As he sat there meditating on the Soul Forge, Zantara slowed the beating of his twin hearts so that if any vampire had been within earshot, they would swear he was one of the undead. Breathing in deeply, he held it in his three lungs for what seemed hours before letting it out slowly. And with his next intake of breath, his body transformed seamlessly into his natural Serpentine form. His heavy bulk causing the small object on which he rested to creak and moan, the old Orochi let a small smile cross his face as he mentally caused the mechanical right leg prosthetic to disengage and be taken over to the workbench by the Shadows.

His clothes fading away to leave the Orochi in his natural skin. He began to mentally direct the souls of the Forge to begin. As the platinum pieces of jewelry were lifted by shadows and carried into the crucible to be broken down, he directed Seishio to remove a item from the satchel he had placed in front of his position. As the Shadow removed the black large briefcase, Zantara came finally out of the trance, his body slowly uncoiling. As the case opened up, he took the Holy weapon in his talons.

Lifting the gas powered crossbow combined with his shotgun creation that he called Teeth Gransher from out of the case, he ran his talons over the plane matte black and red enamelled stock of the weapon. Noding slowly, he looked over his shoulder and mentally created the spiritual equivalent of a large old school style of Juke Box. As it came into focus, the song “Taking Care of Business” began to play from it's speakers, the record spinning on the turntable under the glass top. Cracking his neck from side to side, the old Cleric went to work, placing the weapon on the workbench.

Mentally controlling the Shadows to create a pair of round orb casts, he breathed in deeply as he began to mentally picture that which he wanted, causing the Soul Forge to make him mental images a reality.

As he began to take apart the work he had done in Sigil, and used the energies from the Soul Forge to empower the weapon combined with the Divine Gifts given to him by his new Goddess, Zantara's long tail swished back and forth to the music, lost in his own world.
Leonardo -S- Virunas's avatar

Eloquent Warlord

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Location: Behind the bar

"I deal in many intangible narcotics as well, if you're here just to get high"

Nodding to Mitsuki as he decided to take his leave rather then attempt to offer some last words to inspire some manner of reaction. Leo was sure the boy had plenty enough on his mind, and Leo obviously had his own hands full. With that in mind, he'd take notice of a young man lingering out over by Sharlen. Such a scene almost comical with the crisp audible handling of some manner of currency, too which Leo would brandish a sadistic grin before gesturing over at Sikander.

"I'll tell you what, introduce yourself to the kid over there, and the beauty on the couch. If you can successfully scare either of them out without touching them, or bribery and I'll reward you with a favor of your choice."

She had been standing there for a while now, and had yet to figure out what she was going to do here. She had many thoughts playing through her mind. A couple of good. The rest troublesome. She was trying her best to try to pull off what her former teacher was able to do, but Zetsumei was a timid woman who found it hard to act like that. She was not born under the star of intimidation and ruthlessness. All she could was try to emulate it, but she'll be like a child trying to play like a tiger, giving out little roars that won't do a thing to anyone. She pulled down on the scarf to reveal her mouth. She supposed she could start trying to do that socializing thing.

Nah, she'll just stay here against the wall until she figured out what to do next.
The nameless man looked out over the bar from his love seat in one of the corners of the room, he saw a girl standing against the wall looking rather timid and some people leaving and others staying at the bar. Since he was going to be staying for a while he figured he needed to get himself a room. He nodded to himself and started reading in his book again.

When he finished his chapter he closed it and stuffed it back in to his duffel bag. He stood up and dusted himself off before taking the bag in his right hand. He then casually made his way to the bar, while he walked he would throw a look at the girl by the wall, if she noticed him he's flash her a smile and a nod. When he arrived at the bar he positioned himself a few feet away from the crowd at the bar. He placed his bag on a stool next to him and his right elbow on the counter. He then patiently waited for a server to help him.
Was he expecting her to flash a smile or nod her head back? Zetsumei wasn't like that. Her red eyes just watched him pass then removed them from his figure. She was not that kind of person to acknowledge everyone around her. If they deserved her attention, then they should request it, not idly try to grasp it. Moron.
Azenforth's avatar


.:} You're not going to make this easy on me. Time to scheme as to how I'm going to accomplish this. {:.
Azenforth's avatar



Leonardo S. Tensatsu


The eyes that had lingered upon the two across the room slowly became aligned with the silver mask as Sikander turned towards them. The tattered fabrics of worn and weathered cloth that hung draped across the silhouetted form of the Assosian outlined the upper half of the phantasmal form that lay beneath the miasmatic superficial layers of shadow which defined the corona of the wraith like being. Beneath the corona manifested a black nimbus of shadow which undulated and writhed like coils of thick acrid black smoke. Small tendrils of the darkness which constituted the mostly intangible form of the Assosian slithered through the tatters of fabric which hung limply from the shoulders and upper arms, whereas the elbows and forearms including the hands were lost within the nimbus of shadow. The mask floated inside an abyss of darkness which outlined the edge of the decrepit disembodied face. Slivers of billowing shadow which mimicked the nature of smoke by the way in which it cast a blurry haze across the surface of the mask. Two tiny beads of indigo light aligned with the each center of the hollow sockets, appearing as though the indigo light formed somewhere deep within the recess of darkness, casting an illusion of endless depth within that black abyssal void which constituted what could be assume as the core mass of the Assosian. Sikander lay his gaze upon them both, no longer an indistinct glimpse out of a peripheral corner but at the center of his focused attention. He watched them, their mannerisms, the way in which they moved and the aura in which existed deep within them both that defined the flavor of their spirits. Shadow walkers were spirit eaters, though it they revitalize their vitality and body. By consuming the souls of others they themselves were privileged an extended existence, hosting the capability to live indefinitely.

The spirits within them held their own distinct attributes which manifested as color, smell, taste, and a luminosity that held much significance. It was the combination of the luminous characteristics and color which each individual would leave lingering behind them that Shadow walkers would track to eventually find their victims. These senses of the spiritual presence had been honed and sharpened after countless centuries of existence and were of a second nature to Sikander, more familiar to him than that of human sight, touch, and smell. He relished in the aftermath of their souls, allowing the essence which lingered in their wake to course through his senses, it fueled a hungering thirst within his body, his instincts pleaded with him to abandon all purpose and feast among those before him. Some shadow walkers could not resist the temptations, this fierce instinctual hunger would overtake their minds and drive them into the frenzy of consumption, they would gorge themselves upon the sweet succulence until there was nothing left but the bitter darkness for which they came. This madness of hunger was one of the first tribulations in which Sikander had overcome to eventually retain his sentience and free-will of mind and body. Sometimes in moments of self reflection it puzzled him how different the experience of existence could be from one form to another, sometimes so much so it was difficult if not impossible to discern the existence of life at all. The Assosians existed upon the fringes of that scale, starkly different in almost all characteristic of life than that of the bipeds that called themselves humanoid.

By the look of the two, the task asked of him would not prove one easily accomplished, the female's soul existed with a bittersweet flavor and a provocative sensual aroma, a lingering crimson hue lingered within the deep rich corona of purple light. The male radiated in a similar manner, of oranges and swirling wisps of red and yellow. Both were confident by the way in which their aura's resonated from them bodies, the spiritual presence was strong within each, which would only serve to make things more difficult for the Assosian. A soft hiss, almost inaudible resonated from the hollow chest of the shadow walker, slowly the coiling mass of shadow withdrew unto itself, the tattered scraps of fabric shifted to the center of the chest, the silver mask elongated and withered towards the epicenter. It looked as if the entire body of the Assosian were being pulled and compacted into a single small sphere of black space. This dwindling sphere of black resonated with ripples which coursed through the rounded surface, pulsating with flashes of indigo light which resembled heat lighting. The thin coils of light quickened between internals of illumination within the clouded ball, until the size of the sphere had diminished so much so that only a small marble sized orb of indigo hues energy, brimming alone the precipice of solid white hovered where once Sikander had levitated. In another moment the orb of light was gone entirely and the Assosian slipped away into the darkness of the Malevolence.

Within the darkness the Assosian was sovereign of his domain, all at once within the Malevolence the traces of Sikander blurred away into the void. There existed no relic, no talisman, no magic, nor meta-physical ability that could discern at that moment the presence of Sikander. Void techniques were notoriously potent and inexplicably hard to track, when complied with the nature of an Assosian's existence, it created a level of stealth in which no sensory capability no matter how omnipotent or powerful could breach. Such a technique was the only such one powerful enough to cast a veil over Leo's ability to detect the Assosian within his own bar. Existing in a world between the veil, everything within the Malevolence took upon a blurry, indistinct glimmer which radiated with a soft sapphire blue hue. The amorphous body of Siaknder dispersed into the air above Sharlen and Never. He traced his route quickly, not wishing to expend anymore energy than it took in order to accomplish Leo's task, void techniques took a powerful toll when used for extended periods of time, when using them it was not uncommon to shed a little piece of oneself, lost within the hollow abyss of the world comprised of nothing.

Though he could not make contact with Sharlen or Never, Sikander would have to get close, close enough to accomplish what he sought. All around Sharlen, Sikander would once again appear, slithering long smokey tendrils which coiled above her skin, the same black tendrils would penetrate the crimson blanket which had covered her form, filtering through it unabated as the intangible shadows soon encompassed her form for only a brief moment before coalescing between her and Never. In the brief moment in which vision between the two of them would be obscured, Sikander would initiate his plan. The shadows often held a strong affinity towards illusionary abilities, even if they were only to last a moment before the mind could focus enough on the illusion to break the false perception of reality. But all it would take was but a moment to accomplish what Leo had asked of Sikander, he'd focus his best efforts to bring fruition to that moment. The illusion was simple, as he manifested and above and around Sharlen, the image of her body being stripped of its flesh, a pantomime of sudden terror and horrific pain would play upon her face. The shifted reality would go as far as to make it appear as though she writhed and to top it off, the aghast cries of pain that reverberated throughout the room. This would be Never's brief perspective of reality, coalescing into the shifting black mass of the Assosian hovering several feet from the ground.

Sharlen's perspective would be a world plunged into darkness, without context or reason. The hollow darkness was intangible, lingering still with the nothingness of the void the Assosian's nimbus of shadows and writhing darkness would shift and sway away from her touch, never allowing contact between them while rebuffing sound, vision, smell, all her senses. Plunged into an encompassing veil of which neither telepathic nor empathic abilities could penetrate. For a brief moment her reality would be the same in which Sikander had existed for countless centuries, the infinite primordial darkness that constituted his very fabric of existence, a darkness that etch its hopelessness upon the mind of those who glimpse into it. It only lasted long enough to work within the confines of the mind, where the brain would activate the instinctive response of recoil and panic while attempting to understand the world around it. These gaps in conscious perception was where illusion worked with the greatest success. She would witness the manifestation of Sikander from behind, the tattered rotted fabrics which hung from the silhouette of a head and shoulders hanging limp in the shifting coils of solid black. The undulating torrents beneath the subtle coronal layers of his existence writhed and shifted like plumes of smokey tendrils. He levitated at an equidistant metric between the two of them, the dark mass of the Assosian made the lights surrounding them seem quite dim. There they both could garner a close up look at Sikander's phantasmal form.
Azenforth's avatar


.:} Whoops, I wasn't suppose to submit that yet. Not done. sweatdrop {:.

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