#WildstarRP

[atleion]

(( I finally did it, guys, I finished something! Bad jokes aside, I learned some new coloring shortcuts that cut my workload in half and make me a happy man. and here’s Atleion with his now super-crazy-long-hair. Originally I did the thing I always do and shifted his eyes to the side, because, fft. But his eyes don’t work so good anymore and he spends more time staring forward than in any particular direction, so this felt more accurate to current events.

And my incomplete line-art and rough-shadows for his reference sheet I’m working on. He’s overdue for a new one. It’ll show up ... Soon (tm) ))

[adunemaw]

There are no happy endings, because nothing ends.

Wildstar has been a good MMO home for four years now.  Like I said in the WSRP Discord: I think we all knew it couldn’t last forever; we just hoped it would last a little longer.

But, since it is what it is, I personally am looking forward to sending the game off with a bang.  I want to host another Tribute or two, and maybe some other kind of tournament.  I want to encourage others to have parties, host events, go all out.  You’ve got no reason not to.  Nothing lasts forever, so we just need to enjoy it while it lasts.

WSRP is going to continue, both the forums (http://wildstar-roleplay.com) and the Discord. Most RP already takes places in our imagination anyway, so we’re just gonna shift everything over to other venues, and that way people who want to continue with their characters and stories can do so.

Will happen, happening, happened. Will happen, happening, happened And we’ll happen again and again, ‘Cause you and I will always be back then.

[prfoundlysuperengineer]

Shadow of the Empress: Update IV

The Southern Grimvault lived up to it’s name. The SS Empress sitting quiet and mostly dark right where the still imprisoned Peter said it would be, the small party, consisting of Rook Vlakovian, Jenny Brightmist, Jeremy Murdoch, Seeker Eldanhand, and Elrabin Lichengrove hurried across the bleak basin to the space craft. Armed with invisibility shield pins, and Jenny’s digital space suits, our heroes snuck onto the quiet marauder ship through a service hatch at the stern.

Finding themselves in a closet at the back of a hall between the two engine rooms, the group quickly and quietly made their way up one of the long halls to a center corridor to enact the first part of their plan: plant explosives. Seeker hacked through the energy barrier that blocked the path for Jenny to get in and do her work. However, as Elrabin aided Jenny in connecting a detonator to the ship’s core cooling system, a Krogg suddenly appeared out of one of the engine rooms, forcing everyone to hide. He drew closer and closer and the party prepared to jump the brute when suddenly Bron appeared around the corner and took out the Krogg in one blow. The Granok and Lady Starheart not finding staying behind to guard the ship to their liking, had come aboard and were promptly (and rather harshly) scolded by the team for being excessively loud and risking everyone’s lives and the extraction mission.

As a somewhat heated discussion ensued, several of the company heard the approach of guards from the parallel hall. The proposal to attack was shot down, and before they could be detected the whole team retreated into the closest engine room door.Tensions high, Jenny led the others up a maintenance ramp to the ship’s second level. They needed to find the kidnapped civilians.

Rook, Seeker, and Lady were sent to the cryodeck to search its rows of cryopods. There was a relief to find the cryochambers empty. That is, until Seeker came upon one final pod that showed a smear of purple growth beneath the sealed glass.

Meanwhile, Jenny led Elrabin (who seemed to be a little out of sorts), Jeremy, and Bron down the other way to check a room lined with readied drop pods. They were relieved to find all of them empty, but this also meant that the prisoners were even further into the ship than any of them wished to go. Rook, Seeker and Lady returned to report their findings. It began to dawn on the team that something was off. The ship supposed to be manned by a large crew of marauders was practically empty, and far, far too quiet.

Preparing to move out, the guards that had been avoided earlier suddenly rounded the corner in the hall. Bron responded to the Krogg’s call, pretending to be one of the crew, but it wasn’t convincing enough. The Human, Grund, and a Krogg moved to intercept the intruders, and just as they lifted their weapons Jenny fired. Bron, Seeker’s drone Axel, Lady and Rook attacked, and the confrontation was brought to a swift end. The others either not watching or in surprise, there was a short exchange as Elrabin expressed his disgust when Lady took a selfie with the fallen Grund. Jenny not speaking with the others, checked each marauder in turn, her handless datachron flickering briefly over her eyes as she. Capping the stunned and fallen Krogg with a hardened expression, she then gathered the team. Sure that they would have been heard by now, they set off in a jog down the next long hall. Slowing as the end came in sight it was Seeker, Rook and Jenny who heard it first: a distant, hair-raising screech of a Strain beast.

[nexusmoon]

*Hey, little snowflake.*

[wildstar-nexusweekly]

PIRATES IN SPAAAACE!

 First Issue: Tonsilatus ‘Thornsplitter’ Diaton - Lowborn Cassian

Our newest segment, Pirates in Space will introduce some of the fiercest and most famous pirates in the galaxy. Today’s issue is about Tonsilatus ‘Thornspitter’ Diaton.

Who is Thornspitter?:

Famous almost in his pedigree Thornspitter was a lowborn Dominion Privateer in the Dominion Navy, excercising almost historically wild and uncontrolled raids onto Exile or Subjugated Worlds to allow Dominion to instigate Martial law on said planets until the raiding stopped (Which they mostly did when political enemies and general opposition had be quietly ‘shipped offworld’.)

DNN in these phases of ‘outsourcing’ managed to paint Thornspitter as a villain inventing stories to make him sound more morbid, corrupt and evil. Until eventually he became just that. Not satisfied by merely mimicking what the DNN accused him off. Thornspitter and his then First Mate, Necksnapper Brutallus, set out to give them something to talk about.

In this period Thornspitter hires a rather large amount of Draken Crew, knowing they are more likely to follow his orders as long as he provide them targets to fire at. It is also in this period he earns the name Thornspitter, through the Draken game of Thornspit*.

First Raid against the Dominion Overlords:

It is a quiet day on Cassus Spaceport 71, when a heavily armed frigate hailing with Military Boarding Code docks on Platform 5 and 6. The Dominion Lowborn Navigator has some trouble clearing out some merchant shipment, which apparently caused a commotion in the docking back. The frigate suddenly begins to turn around, in a movement that nearly scrapes paint off the side, the leviathan of a beast almost creak. That is about the time when the groundforces know something is wrong and try to enable shields, but too late the heated plasma cannons blow the entire platform into a molten mess with one barrage through the lowered shields and disappear without much of a radar chase.

At first the DNN calls this a Seperatist attack, caused by exile slaves or off-world merchants and keep the truth hidden. Their own Privateer has begun to like being the most feared man in the Dominion Space. And was not about to let that opportunity slip away.

In the first immitate hours after most Dominion ships were recalled to Cassus fearing for another attack on spacestations or the planet itself. However it would be some time before Thornspitter would show his face again.

Raids against the Dominion:

Off-world raids and attacks on settlements began to escalate around the time of the first release of DNN’s assumption that Thornspitter’s attacks had been a seperatist action, hoping to spike his own ‘popularity’ he made sure there was no doubt who he was in his entire slaughter. Attacking DNN’s stations and making his own broadcasts was the first time people actually saw Thornspitter.

A scarred, but strangely aristocratic ‘villain’ with a flair for dramatics, Thornspitter wanted to spread fear, and held his own public executions on the network whenever he could get away with it, within the time it took Dominion Fleet showing up.

His invention for cruelty showed in the way the Draken revered and respected him. Collecting skulls of those that wronged him and their subjects was a habit of his. One particular skull of fellow newsreader Amias the Agile was found in the aftermath of Thornspitters regime of Terror as a flush-o-matic ‘accessory’.

Thornspitters own regime lasted for nearly a decade before he was caught, by his own Vanity the Captain had left his ship giving a broadcast on how invincible his ship was, to fight off the invading Dominion Fleet. The Ravager was shot out of the sky, falling like burning debris on the already destroyed city. Thornspitter and his last men was finally rounded up, and even then in his own megalomania Thornspitter claimed himself Emperor of the Dominion. He was executed the following day on Cassus.

Accomplishments?:

Thornsplitter most famous achievement is the fact he has the longest running score against Dominion Ships, and has on his record at least 76 Dragoons, 31 Frigates, 1 Flagship and 2 Spacestations. All within Dominion space. While his achievements doesn’t aspire to anything like other well-known pirates who are opposed to the Dominion out of their controlling sphere, Thornspitter was merely about creating a sphere of fear that could dominate far better than any Emperor could have done. Similary he is the Pirate with apparently the lowest rate of looting, and seem to have been more focused on razing dominion infrastructure and housing to the ground. What little looting there was has been against army deposits for power sources, food and ammunition. His crew at the time of his death was nearly only Draken, with two Chua engineers and one Mechari operative. He is the only pirate to ever have been publicly executed on the DNN network, to calm the masses, and to quell his legendary status.

*Thornspitting requires two sets of Cactus Fruit with any type of thorns. Where most Draken prefer the thorns to be actual useful for spitting. Two opponents sits faced with eachother and has to eat the fruit while spitting thorns or spikes at the opponent. The winner is often declared early, but some games can take hours before a playersubmits. Thornspitter in this regard is supposedly famous for having won this game against actual living cacti.

[stellaralchemist]

Ele’s Journal 3

Late night tonight, we are seven altogether, including Misha. Peter and Doctor Gruzhnov will be celebrating at a Dominion party, probably injecting that nonsense into their arms in some great show. Yes, that will certainly show the Cassians we are good allies, everyone adores an immortal planet in their ranks. I’m sure they won’t be jealous at all.

The invitation to the party is on my desk, it was awkward rescinding my RSVP (plus one, of course). I don’t think I’ve ever rescinded attendance before, that was always Evgeni’s job. It is so strange, to think about life without him. I might not be in love with him but he has been the other half of my life for so long… I have forgotten how to do things just as myself. Part of me assures me that if I called now and we did sit down, if we talked to one of those counselors and discussed things, if I agreed to have children (and never succeeded, perish the thought) we could live on together forever with only the edge of lingering bitterness to mar our existence.

Or maybe I’ll hire a maid.

I have retreated into my office now, Renata and Leonid have turned the news on in the workspace to hear Lazarin’s speech. ‘Research,’ they say. I shouldn’t blame them, it’s historic. Raisa hasn’t even come in tonight (she is almost certainly taking the elixir now against my orders). Misha has retreated with me, but I can see him craning his neck to see the screen outside the office. He is an excellent assistant though I wish he wo-

Many things have happened and I will write them as they have occurred (as I can remember, for they passed so swiftly). I will say first that the staff, at the start of the night, comprised myself, Doctor Elenia Dmitrevna Malkin Volescu, Mikhail Kessler (Misha, my assistant), and of my research team: Vadim Avinoff, Leonid Olovnikov, Arseny Sechenov, Renata Zabelina, and Fedosiya Mechnikov. The building we are in is the Kondrashov Building, the top eight floors comprising the primary research facility of Volsova Laboratories, which I founded with my colleague Doctor Peter Ilionovich Soveski.

When I put the book down earlier (six hours ago, Kemos help us), there had proven to be a commotion in the central room where our private offices overlook. My research team was watching Victor Lazarin give his speech on the matter of his infamous Elixir. As I stepped out the feed cut off, there had been some manner of riot. The newscast has been vague regarding what is happening. Riots of some manner, and Misha and I went out to watch the unfolding drama. The newscaster asked that those in possession of the elixir not take it (though that must be precious few now, I imagine) and though I suppose I was gleeful for a moment it was quickly shattered.

We watched the news for a while, more talk of riots, until Renata received a call from Raisa (I believe they went to school together). She claimed that she was hiding in her bedroom in her flatshare and that there was a man outside clawing at the door, attempting to force his way in. He would not speak, though, she had seen him and he looked sick. Renata and Arseny decided to go after her, to go help. When we tried to call the police the line was overwhelmed so they said they should take the car and go get her. After all, what safer place is there in the event of a riot than the top floors of a large building?

We called down to security to lock down the building, just in case something should happen (we are very close, after all, to the centre of the Enclave) and the security guard Matthieu even went out with Renata and Arseny and walked them to their car in the parking lot. We all went out onto the balcony adjoining my office to watch them, and mostly to see if we could catch a glimpse of the riots from where we are.

They got into the car alright and were just backing up when Matthieu shone his light into the side of the parking lot. Someone was lingering there and he was trying to scare them out. It was, I think, a woman in a party dress, though from our height it was hard to tell. She looked well off, not like the sorts who usually hang about the parking lot, and he must have thought she was drunk. We heard him call out to her and as he began to walk toward her she snapped up like a shot and was on top of him.

I don’t know how she overpowered him but we could see the pool of blood in the lights of the parking lot and she stayed so long over him I fear (though dare not tell the others) that she might have been trying to eat him.

We have returned to the main room, Renata and Arseny are gone, out into the city. The guards have called up and told us we seem to be the only ones in the building; which is reassuring. There are two of them now left, Nicoli and Natalia, staying behind on the ground floor. No one has said anything yet, though I think Fedosiya is about to cry.

If I am honest so am I.

[atleion]

(( I’ve wanted this top forever, and now it’s mine. Ho-ho! 

I’d also like to take a moment to appreciate that sleek Aurin Idle Animation, because that casual look to the side an alert prey-animal posture just melts my little ol’ heart.))

[croo-chan]

Negative OC Traits

                                     Yvein Kurrlo Albedo aKa Albedo Sr.

Tagged by @di-wild

Bold always or almost always applies. Italic occasional or situational. [Personal - bold and italics are ‘OMG 100500%!!!’]

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

—————————————————————————-

...Wait. Is... Is he still a cinnamon roll?.. It’s fun how some thing twists with having in mind what he is a medic

[prfoundlysuperengineer]

Others’ Troubles

Peter’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and he glanced around the crowded dive to ensure no one had heard her. “Call me that again and I’ll wring your skinny little neck.”

Jenny gave a mirthless chuckle, and reached to snag one of the man’s fries. “Is that what ya tell yer mother when she asks ‘ow 'er li'le criminal’s doin’?”

The man snatched her wrist, but Jenny merely leaned in, narrowed eyes trained on him as she ate the stolen fry. “And what if I drug you back to the ship right now?”

Jenny gave a cocky wink in spite of the nauseating tug in her chest. She deftly twisted her hand free. “You won’. Ya 'member 'ow well tha’ went fer ya last time… Ahh! I know tha’ glare,” she chimed, plucking up another fry. “Answers one of mah questions! You don’ know where Blackstar’s parked the Empress, do ya?”

“One of your questions?” Peter asked, his jaw flexing as he glared down at the redheaded engineer. “Fine, I’ll bite. No, I don’t know where the ship’s parked, but it’s not your concern. What is your concern,” the man murmured, leaning into a little too close as he shot a dark glance down the bar filled with workers eating their midday meals, ignoring Jenny’s hand that played with his tie, “is that we’re watching you. We know where you go and when. We even know where some of your little friends wander. I wonder how much those mordesh would go for, or that little blonde aurin – What was her name?”

Jenny grit her teeth, shoulders tense as she leaned a little away from him, her glare burning into his shoulder. “I think ya underestimate ‘im. Ya always underestimated all o’ us.”

“Everyone has their price, princess. Fantastic might be untouchable, but he can only protect his little crew so much.” Peter sat back up, frowning in offense at the counter when he saw that his drink hadn’t been refilled. “I should get going. Always a pleasure, Jen.”

“Ya gonna see Seth?”

Peter paused, scowling. “Why do you want to know?”

Jenny’s lips curled in a wicked smirk as her hand slid up his tie. “Give ‘im a message fer me.”

“Drink for you, honey,” said the bartender as he appeared by them, setting a clean little napkin down with one hand and the drink with the other.

Peter shifted his glare to the bartender and opened his mouth to make an asinine comment, but there was no time for him to say it. Jenny’s hand gripped Peter’s tie, and with a swift, sharp yank she pulled the man’s face down to smash against the edge of the bar. He yelped in pain, backing into the patron behind him as he reeled blindly and grasped at his bleeding face.

“Shit! You bitch!” he shouted. Half rising to lunge for Jenny, a small wave of whiskey suddenly sloshed over Peter’s pants, followed by another to the face that redirected his ire to the bartender as the crowded joint fell silent. All eyes on them, several people gravitated to the scene, expecting the worst.

“Shit, honey, I’m sorry about that,” said the bartender, scooting the rescued napkin towards Jenny and pulling a towel from his apron to wipe up the spill on the counter. “I’ll get ya another.”

“What the HELL, Mike?!” Peter shouted, blood pouring from his nose, his shirt and pants soaked with alcohol.

The bartender, who clearly had issues with Peter as well, fixed the young man a withering look. “You’re bothering people and bleeding on my bar. Get out.”

Peter snarled, giving Mike and Jenny black looks. Still holding a hand to his bloodied face, he snatched his coat from the seat of his barstool, shoved roughly past the redhead, and stomped out.

There was a communal shuffling throughout the crowd as the threat of a full-on fight diminished. Some clearly disappointed, the workers slowly returned to their meals and conversations.

“Piece of trash,” Mike grumbled as he poured Jenny a fresh glass.

Sniffing, she turned to face the bar, shooting a diffusing, charming wink to the man on the other side of the empty stool who still stared. “Sorry fer the disturbance,” Jenny murmured with an apologetic smile at the bartender. “I can take off too.”

Mike chuckled at her, and set a fresh drink on her napkin. “Stay as long as you like, honey. Drinks on me. Get you something to eat?”

Jenny lifted her whiskey and offered the bartender a little toast. “Ya go’ them little fried pickle things?”

The bartender ushering the lurking aurin waitress to scamper back out to refill drinks, he reached to turn the music to something more lively and nodded. “Sure do. I’ll have them right out for you.”

As he stepped away to lean in the kitchen door, Jenny let out a long, heavy breath. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Setting her elbows on the bar she lifted her glass and drained half of it. Blue eyes turning distant for a moment her gaze finally drifted down to her napkin. She focused on it, frowning as she noted the pale markings showing through the fibers, then turned it over to read.

end of the bar

The young woman hesitated, then glanced up, her eyes following the bar around till they found the man sitting in the last bench. Jeremy. Her shoulders sank, but the smile that turned up her features was genuine, and she tipped her glass a little towards him. There was no getting out of this one.

Jeremy beamed back at Jenny, raising his glass in reply. With a dutiful scoot backwards he stood from the bench and weaved his way through the dispersing gawkers toward her. “Well well well,” he hummed at her with a smirk. “That was something. Ten out of ten, Jenny - that guy didn’t see that coming. Neither did I, come to think of it.”

Jenny returned a smirk in kind, gesturing to the now empty seat beside her. “One reason I don’t often wear necklaces,” she teased. Then, more seriously, “How much did ya hear?”

He tilted his head at the question, holding his smirk in place. “Enough that I have some questions for you,” he responded, blinking at her, and lifting a hand to place on her shoulder. His eyes scanned her up and down, brows raising slightly. “You alright, though?”

Jenny glanced to the front door of the establishment before smiling and putting a hand on his. “Hmmm, better now…. An’ after all that I s'pose I don’ got much of an excuse t’ not answer you,” she added with a good-natured smile.

“Suppose not,” he confirmed slyly as he turned and rested his elbows back upon the bartop.  "Though first off - you need to tell me where you learned those moves from because… damn,“ his hands splay out a bit and he broke into a chuckle. "Seriously,” he leaned towards her, voice lowering, “that was just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen you do. I mean - almost. It’s up there.”

Jenny’s fleeting look of surprise turned into a mischievous grin, finding herself feeling suddenly pleased that he’d enjoyed the little show, and she leaned in as well. “Oh, that ol’ trick? Honestly? Saw someone fail ta pull it off in a movie years back an’ though’ I could do a 'ole lot better. Got a lot more tricks where tha’ came from.”

“Seems like that could come in handy,” he murmured, sliding his hand around her back and using their closeness as an excuse to kiss her cheek. He pulled back, looking at her, smirk fading subtly as he did. “So,” he made a small up-nod of his head towards the door. “Who was that guy to you? Pretty clear he was unhappy to see you well before you broke his face.”

_ _ _ _ _

Jenny strode out of the Nebula, fitting a sack of emergency rations (Marko’s leftovers from breakfast) into her canvas pack. She could hear the engine of the ship she’d called in for and glanced back to the other few who’d decided to come along on the little field trip.

Fishing her datachron out of her pocket, she double checked her messages. heeeeey. So if I send you some coords how fast do you think you can make it out to Wilderrun?

How fast? Please. In spite of her rush and the weight of worry for the stranded trio, she couldn’t help but smirk. It’d been one trouble after another with small intermissions since the start. Since before the start. Jenny grinned and double checked their destination. For a minute – naw – more like a few seconds she was upset for not being taken along. But it was an impulsive, fleeting emotion that was easily discarded. She couldn’t blame him for asking her to stay. She’d have done the same, even if it was only supposed to be a quick there and back before poor Bron crashed his newly fixed ship.

Other people’s troubles are a good distraction from my own, he had told her. The afternoon at Cliff’s bar seemed to have been a forever ago. Where they had agreed to show their cards – well, the ones they were most willing to share. He had spied on Seth for her instead of leaving when things got bad. He’d come back after Malgrave and risked his life for them, gotten shot, and kept her awake in the dataspace when all she wanted to do was sleep and not wake up. Jenny sat herself in one of the two pilot’s seats, adjusted her pistols at her hips, and fastened her seatbelt with a resolved click. Now it was her turn.

Besides, if she was being honest, Jenny liked being the cavalry.

[wildstar-nexusweekly]

The Old, The New, The Adventurous (OOC Catchup Time)

The Gauntlet:

The Gauntlet was one project in which I invite more adventurous players to have a go on a gauntlet for a testrun with some roll-tables to see how people were doing and if there was a general interest in it. The short answer to that question is ‘Mweh’.

The idea afterall was to make some easily accessible gameplay with a few easily digestible challenges that could give some story and boost to why a character can be great. But these challenges and the setup was not as digestable because majority of players thought it was rubbish, on what I consider fairly strange criteria.

What happened to the Gauntlet?:

The Gauntlet is still alive and has a bit of rework going on at the moment, before I decide to either move to to EntityNA and testrun it there or testrun it on JabbitEU again. Mostly this rework has been in the instances with ‘damage’ and ‘flair for camera’ which was apparently an issue for some players that they would appear ‘negatively’, get ‘hurt’ or otherwise rather than show that their character was a complete badass. Which in fairness was also the original idea of the concept.

What to do with the Gauntlet?:

Once it is decided where I go with the Gauntlet I’ll invite some playtester to the actual thing. With two new challenges and another on the way, I have to be sure it does better than last time.

The Adventure Roleplay:

Has been turned strictly to player-to-player based interaction? What does that mean? Well that means in all fairness that I as the DM/GM/whichever abreviation you prefer can pick my own cast to my own events without having to cater needlessly to players who won’t show up, or appear statuelike in the RP itself.

Bar Rotation:

I am still in two minds about this because it really comes down to where the Gauntlet coin lands. I have previously preached heavily for a JabbitEU for EU players, but it is hard for me to do at this point in time with a retrospective look on Jabbit’s closed off mindset and clique ideals. So either I swallow my JabbitEU pride or I make events that cater to EU players on an NA base. Both seem rather silly choices and that is why this has taken even longer to put forward.

Nexus Weekly:

Will remain the same - Posts whenever I feel like them with no particular connection to the ingame happenings.

What is next?

I really don’t know what is next on the agenda for myself and my RP, I miss my characters on Wildstar and perhaps I’ll find a way to make all this actually work. If people have ideas to what should happen next with an open mind they can contact me as usual either through here, or through Discord. I should be easy to find on the Wildstar RP discord (NA).

[stellaralchemist]

Ele’s Journal (4)

Natural loyalty has won out, I attempted to call Evgeni first but there was no answer or ring. He has likely left it on all night like I always tell him not to and now it is dead. I can not get through to Mother and Father at all, the lines are overwhelmed. But they are in their dacha outside the Enclave and have been since Father prosecuted his last case, for fear of some retribution (though it seemed mostly to have been slashed tires)

Marko I have tried last. It seems like, of all of them, he would be the one to answer and it would be so comforting to hear his voice. I am trying now, his datachron keeps ringing but there is no answer. He would take the elixir, he is so concerned about his looks. I only wish I could call and ask if he has. Or I could tell him to come here and then-

No answer again. On any of them. I have closed myself in the office again but I can’t get hold of Peter or Doctor Gruzhnov. For now we have all agreed to remain in place.

[alred-briarthorne]

So Your Character Finally Got Their Own Show!

So what’s the theme that the credits roll to?

Examples: Alred Briarthorne in - Really, It’s Just a Season of Burn Notice

Vandrere Alumbrados in - A Spy Drama Involving the Church

Barbarossa Redgrave in - Did They Make a Rambo TV Show?

[voidham]

DREADTALON MOOT

HOLY SHIT ITS AN EVENT

WHEN: Nov 23rd, 9pm WHERE: Voidwitch Nishka’s plot (The Witches Lounge) WHO: Draken, Draken Lovers, and people interested in seeing a bunch of drunk draken in a room together WHAT:

The Dreadtalon Moot is an event being hosted by the Dreadtalon tribe and an occasion for draken to get a taste of home. There will be drinking, eating, boasting, and more than likely some fighting before the night is through. The purpose is to get draken away from Mikros a chance to act like they were still back on their tidelocked homeworld.

There’ll be festivities, story telling, and potentially even a competition to see who can weave the grandest tale.

For more information, visit this. http://www.wildstar-roleplay.com/forum/m/11410152/viewthread/25006611-ent-dom-dreadtalon-moot/post/109358872#p109358872

See you soon.

[atleion]

(( Now that I’ve done my mourning for Wildstar and feel productive again: I’m still quietly working on finishing these memory sequences about Atleion’s childhood leading up to the Ravaging of Arboria, because I am still a nerd, and I like exploring his upbringing. This is Story #3, and part 1 of 2 of a particular story. The next one coming up continues directly off of this one, for anyone who likes to read these~ I’ve been writing relevant memories in order. It’s a loose narrative structure, I know, but they all connect. C’:

I’ll finish a picture someday ... Someday. *wistfully looks into the distance of sketches and lined pictures yet uncolored*. In the meantime, a quick sketch of Atleion when he wasn’t an incredibly troubled boy putting himself in too many dangerous situations. I’ll save the proper story header for next time~ ))

The gentle tickle of grass against his skin was like a warm embrace. He could feel each tiny gust of wind drifting through the forest. Like some great beast's breath, it washed over him in steady waves, always carrying the fragrant scent of the woods.

Atleion could have laid upon the ground forever, basking in the glow of the sun peaking through the branches. It was calm, quiet, as the forest often was. The serenade of distant animal calls, and the dabble of the river rushing from the far off mountains, lulled him to a drowsy near-slumber.

He may well have fallen asleep had it not been for a sudden weight dropped onto his small body. It knocked the breath from his lungs, eliciting a sharp wheeze.

"Come on, lazy! If we don't keep moving, we're never going to get back before Shaderoot notices."

Atleion's eyes, dark as soot, opened up wide. The world around him was a brightened blur of spire-like trees stretching up into a patchwork canopy. However, placed squarely within his view, was something quite different from a tree.

It was Elyia, adorned in her snowy white shawl, and her finely knit tunic. Her dusky skin caught the shadows of the branches, and her silvery gaze twinkled with the light of adventure.

The weight upon his stomach returned, more forceful and insistent, as Elyia shook him with her foot. She waved a hand above his face for good measure, then took a step back. Like a clock's pendulum, her woolen white tail swayed to a steady, unheard beat.

"It's not much further. Promise!" She beamed. Without another word, she spun on her heels and disappeared from his field of view.

Atleion caught his breath. With a smile spread over his face, he sat up and adjusted his thick poncho over his small frame. Blue, white, and elaborate, it carried the swirling patterns of old decorative symbols common to his people.

"It was only a minute!", Atleion called out. On his feet, he dusted grass off of his knees. He shook his head, sending the unruly mop of curls upon it into a frenzy. His lush purple hair tangled up, right to the tip of his ponytail. With one forceful swing, his tail dislodged the rest of the loose grass clinging to his fur, and he scampered off after his companion.

"A minute! You almost fell asleep." Elyia protested. She paused by the edge of the slow moving river in front of them. Her bare toes touched the water, curling against the soft dirt.

Though Atleion opened his mouth to protest such an assertion, he knew her to be right. It was all he could do to offer her a sheepish smile when she looked back to him, for he had delayed their journey long enough.

"Got you~" Elyia chirped. Her voice carried like a lofty bird's.

Without further warning, she grasped his hand within her own and set off once more. Her feet nimbly touched the large stones protruding from the river's currents. One after the other, she hopped along them, tugging Atleion in tow, until they safely reached the banks of the other side. Even as Atleion stumbled, sliding into the water, she never once relinquished him to the currents.

His fingers wrapped about Elyia's hand, holding it tightly. He could feel the racing of his heart within his chest. It rose like a leaf on the wind, carried higher the faster the two of them moved through the forest's dense depths.

Before long, the two young Aurin came to a stop. Each of their ears rose high, pointed forward at the silence to surround them. Not even the call of beasts rang within this part of the forest, nor the howl of the wind. It was as if the world had frozen in time.

Stretched before them was a tunnel of foliage and stone. The thicket appeared to go on forever, shadowy, dark, and foreboding. The branches of the brush reached down like monstrous teeth, gnashing at the moss ridden boulders to crowd their roots.

Atleion's toes dug into the pine mould and dirt beneath them. The claw like nails at the ends of his toes raked the ground. His grip on Elyia's hand grew tighter, in a vain attempt to mask the tremble of his limbs.

Elyia's fingers laced with Atleion's. She offered him a warm smile. Her long white tail swung behind her, brushing into his playfully.

Her eyes bore a certitude matched only by the fluidity of her steps. She hesitated not a moment longer before beginning down the thicket encased pathway. All the while, she gently herded Atleion forward, guiding him silently into the belly of the beastly path.

Atleion's thickly furred ears pressed against his head. His tail had ceased any semblance of motion, dragging limply behind him and along the ground. One step after the other, he felt his feet sinking into the layers of old pine needles blended with cool dirt. As he looked down, he could see the trail the two of them left; it was a line of small footprints, overlapping every few beats.

"Ely, we shoul---" Atleion began.

"Shhhh."

Elyia's grasp on his hand tightened. It was faint, but situated just in front of them was a genial glow of light. She followed it as a butterfly drawn to a flower.

Though it lasted only a few minutes, Atleion thought it an eternity. He held his breath until they passed from the shadows.

At once, he was greeted with blinding brightness. His eyes squinted. He reached up to shelter them, blinking several times to adjust to the new visage.

"Isn't it pretty?"

Elyia's voice broke the silence.

Atleion lowered his hand. At a gradual pace, his ears began to rise up, right to the very hairs at their tips.

The thicket the two had traveled through had given birth to a clearing, encircled by centuries old verdune trees that stood guard. They were diligent soldiers, intent on protecting the contents of their station. Like a pond of silk, white flowers rose from the grasses. Some grew taller than others, but they all held in bloom. The sun's light brought a twinkle to them. Perhaps most stunning, however, was the rising stone within the center of the clearing. Its surface was clear as glass, reflecting the scene around it like a steady pond.

Atleion's grip on Elyia's hand loosened. His fingers fell from hers.

"Told you it was cool." Elyia leaned over to whisper in his ear. She bound forward, gently placing her feet between the flowers to avoid crushing them. With the grace of a fawn, she moved upon her toes. Once she reached the reflective stone, she spun back around. Her long white hair caught in the breeze, swaying outward. "You can thank me later."

Atleion held few words. He carefully tried to follow the trail his companion had taken, sliding his small feet into place in spaces the flowers had not taken root. He spun as he walked, twisting to catch every angle within his view.

"How'd you even find this?" Atleion laughed. His gaze whipped towards Elyia, and with it came his hair. The waves of lavender tipped purple dangled within his eyes.

Elyia giggled. She pressed a finger to her lips and winked once. "That would be a secret."

The girl turned to face the reflective stone, peering into it. Her hands touched its surface, fingertips pressed firmly to it.

"Really?" Atleion scoffed. Even as he had, a smile remained on his face. He'd reached the tall stone, and once he looked closely to it, he could see his own reflection, staring back at him with doeish eyes and soft features.

"Mmhm." Elyia made the noise passively. She pulled her hand away from the surface of the stone. "But I thought you should see it. Before tonight. It won't be this easy to sneak out here after ... You know."

Atleion looked towards the ground. His tail came to rest among the flowers, and without a word, he sank down to sit upon his heels. Their days of exploring the forest unfettered were soon to be behind them. This much he knew. They were twelve cycles old, and with that came responsibilities. Their future awaited them within their village, and that night it would be decided.

After inhaling a deep breath, Atleion reached over to touch the glassy stone. His fingers curled against its surface. "Yeah..."

"Have you thought about it?" Elyia crouched down next to him. She smoothed her tunic down before seating herself carefully among the flowers. "What you're going to say?"

Atleion shook his head. He was tight-lipped, and his brows twisted in discomfort.

Silence passed between the two children, the world populated by little more than the carefree wind rustling the flower petals and tree branches.

Atleion opened his mouth to speak, only to stop when he felt something tangling within his hair. His eyes lifted towards Elyia, who had become focused as she messed with his purple locks. Her fingers were nimbly braiding something into his hair, and it was not until she reached for another object that he realized she were braiding flowers into it.

His mouth shut and he eased, shifting as she worked a series of them along the side of his head.

Elyia leaned back and held her fingers in front of her as if to frame Atleion in her view. Her tongue stuck out from the side of her mouth. "Hm."

Her tail gently rolled through the flowers behind her. "There we go."

"What'd you do that for?" Atleion tilted his head upward. One of his ears rose high, and his eyes began searching for an answer not easily found.

She dropped her hands down and flashed a warm grin, enough to shine the sharps of her teeth. "For luck."

With her answer stated, Elyia rose to her feet. She dusted her tunic off, staring down at the small boy next to her. Her hands tucked behind her back, elbows straight. "Nothing to be scared of if the forest is with you. Right?"

Atleion stared up at her with wide eyes. His fingers gently trailed the side of his head, just beneath the flower petals worked into his hair. He smiled wide himself, offering Elyia a firm nod in response.

She coyly slapped his back with her tail, prancing off towards the thicket tunnel they had entered through. Her arms flew up and she called out, loud as she could.

"We should get back! If we're late, even the Old Ones can't save us from Shaderoot's ..." Her fingers pulled her eyelids down from her cheeks, dreary and grim. "Stare of no-fun."

Elyia dropped her hands down and dashed off into the thicket, leaving only a flash of her white hair and tail in view before she disappeared into the shadowy foliage. "Last one there has to tell him where we were!"

Try as Atleion did not to laugh, he could not contain it. His shoulders shook. His face flushed a bright red, and he howled into the quiet, scampering off after Elyia towards the thicket entrance.

His feet clumsily carried him through the flowers. More than once he fell, and his long tail, purple as his hair, with a lavender tip, whipped out to try and maintain his balance. As he reached the thicket's entrance, however, something stopped him dead within his tracks. A whisper.

He stood on his toes. His ears pricked up, twisting each direction his head looked, until he turned to glance back at the glassy stone in the clearing, and the sea of white flowers in bloom.

Nothing was there. As soon as the sensation had washed over him, it had drawn away like the rolling tide.

His ears lowered down. He shook his head... And without giving it a second thought, he bound into the thicket to continue the journey home.