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More than 10 years after the Resonance Event.... our fractured world has found its new "normal" stride.
Survival is no longer the name of the game - now its all about power - who has it - who can keep it.


You are cordially invited to the event of the season. Bakkhos is hosting a winter masquerade.
Did you get your exclusive invite? or are you fighting for the few seats left open to the public?


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  1. Earlier
  2. Zeph

    Roleplay Evolution

    just realized we already have affiliation with you Is the link accurate still - its located at the bottom of our site on all pages.
  3. Zeph

    Roleplay Evolution

    Yes we still do affiliations. I will get yours up later today!
  4. Guest

    Roleplay Evolution

    Hello there, I'm Care, the Media Maven of Roleplay Evolution. I would like to know if this affiliation is still going on as we have your link upon our affiliation Section along with a little blurb on our Affiliation section on the message board. You can find both here.. https://roleplayevolution.com/evo/pages/affiliations.html https://roleplayevolution.com/forums/index.php?board=236.0
  5. https://www.clanofkraken.com Are you a roleplayer who is also a writer hoping to one day publish a book? Are you a fanficcer who wants to also write their own original content? Do you like to read and just love talking about what you read? CLAN OF KRAKEN is a brand new forum community for adults that hopes to be a home for book nerds and aspiring authors! We're striving to be a fun, friendly, inclusive community where everyone gets to enjoy dorking out over their favorite stories, be they books, fanfiction, or plays or more. We want to support each other's projects and share amazing things we've found. We're currently under a soft open and looking for founding members that are excited about this project and want to help shape it's atmosphere and community! If you feel Clan of Kraken sounds like a great place to make your internet home, feel free to join us and invite your friends. Hope to see you there! <3
  6. DRAGON BALL: BROKEN DESTINY Before there were Super Dragon Balls. Before the multiverse. Before the cosmos was the backdrop for the adventures of Goku and gang, there was a single planet, swarming with adventure. Earth. And before Radditz and the Saiyans brought their brand of evil and announced the existence of the Dragon Balls to the universe, there were myriad of stories, enemies, zany mix ups, victories, losses, humor, and unexplored potential. Where the final battle wasn't the purpose of the story, but the journey was, that's where you'll find Dragon Ball: Broken Destiny. When the Evil King Piccolo tried to take over the world, Muten Roshi sealed him away in a bottle, preventing his evil reign. But what if he didn't? In a world where the Evil Containment Wave failed, and King Piccolo and Master Roshi were mortally wounded, Dragon Ball: Broken Destiny explores what happens in the cracks that became from a world whose story was told differently. What happens when Piccolo Jr. steals a young Gohan, and Radditz saves the day by aiding his brother? What happens when every lost Saiyan was united by a wish on Shenron, no longer lost, scattered, alone, or enslaved? What happens when Kami decides, for the betterment of the universe, that the Dragon Balls should no longer exist? What happens when he makes that decision anyway? The rails of destiny have been destroyed. We live in a time of Broken Destiny. Dragon Ball: Broken Destiny is a semi-literate Role Playing Game which focuses on the Earth and the factions which struggle to control it in the time 400 years after the failed sealing of Piccolo Daimao. You can play anything from your everyday average Earthling who wants to be the greatest martial artist, to a child of Piccolo Daimao, to a descendant of the great warrior race, the Saiyans or a technologically powerful android, or a demon. You can even play an Earth-stranded Tuffle. We’re a player focused, story focused site which aims to tell great adventure stories, have humorous scenes, and revel in the adventure, martial arts, capsule-punk, wuxia masterpiece that is Dragon Ball, before it became a space alien battle manga. Broken Destiny offers a unique, earth-centric perspective, prioritizing the small, local, player driven actions, rewarding your own personal journey to the west and meaningful character development. Leave the comic aliens at the door, come explore a rich, verdant Earth and the cracks that have appeared due to the alterations of history. If an Earth-centric, story focused, player focused Dragon Ball site set 400 years after the fall of Piccolo Daimao interests you? Check us out at: DRAGON BALL: BROKEN DESTINY ! Premise|Timeline|RPG Rulebook|Major Factions|Code of Conduct|Advertise & Affiliate|Discord.
  7. “We are so far beyond second thoughts by now.” Neck bristled, canines prickled at his words, his proximity or the realization of something that had been in the back of her mind; something that didn’t have words or thoughts yet slid in between the plates of her armor. It lingered deep, dark eyes watching him keenly as he straightened and laughed… most certainly no clue what was moving through the Viceroy’s mind at the moment. The sensation was short lived, metaphorical wall back up as they moved past those outside the club. Her façade was tight and brilliantly delivered, even when her escort took pause. Instinct took over, immediately sliding into business mode. The aloof and intensely confident arrogance snapped across her features as the man nodded to what she was dead certain was a Were. Calloway plant? Even though dismissed by Gallo, her ears didn’t miss the words he uttered to a bouncer at the entrance. A narrowing of her eyes was imperceptible. Either scenario was unacceptable; Calloway, or something else. The fact that the something else bothered her so much was strange. Angry almost, tinged with a sensation that she hadn’t felt for a very, very long time. It was an emotion that brought rage and most certainly ire of the most vindictive kind. Jealousy. She was livid it even could seep into her thoughts anymore. Eris London did not get jealous, of anyone. Façade never slipped, though dark eyes glanced at him with the soft quirk of the Sheut gauging his mood when she’d found him in the warehouse beating on idiots that deserved to be pulverized. She felt it, the hum in the air from the Were. Closing the proximity between them slightly, her index finger discretely found the delicate skin on the underside of his elegantly dressed wrist, making small circles with the barest of touch. She knew about distraction, about finding focus that could drown out the world; she was deliberately trying to give him something to center on. Once at the bar, she took the opportunity to slide off the viper. She’d been able to wear it as long as she could and it was now time for it to be an accessory, the full striking make-up of her eyes on complete display as she surveyed the crowd much like a predator securing their position, and warding off any curious conversations. She picked up the rum with a nod to the bartender and retook his arm, the mask in one hand and rum in the other would make it almost certain she wouldn’t have to shake hands with anyone. When they started moving toward Matteo and Kagami, it was quickly apparent she was actually going to have to talk to people. Fuck. "Gaspari thinks he can ask twenty questions, then Gaspari's gonna get bit," she murmured quietly before taking a delicate sip of her rum. Eyes "innocently" blinked up at him, then returned to surveying the crowd.
  8. Orbiting the tropical Kerelia, the strategically placed Sigma-class station is nestled between the edge of Federation controlled space, the Tholian Assembly, the Klingon Empire and the unknown. The Sovereign-class USS Mac arrives with a fresh-faced replacement crew, ready to tackle a host of new challenges out on the outskirts of the Beta Quadrant. But life this far from the civilization that they once knew can be hard. It can be unexpected, wonderful, and it can be dangerous. The year is 2380. The Dominion War is over, and once again we look toward the unexplored. Join us on the FRONTIER. FRONT EAR | USS MAC *** FRONTIER is a brand new, play-by-forum Star Trek RPG. Launched 29/02/2020, we offer a unique opportunity to get in on the ground floor of this exciting new adventure. Our forum is host to two roleplay scenarios; Front Ear Station, our event-driven and laid-back jumping-off point, and the USS Mac, the exploratory arm of our operation. Our OOC community is lively and friendly and we believe that player engagement and creativity is one of the most important aspects of any roleplay. FRONTIER | DISCORD
  10. Too much to bear. The ship beneath him rocked slowly, slow roll of a harbor horn echoing across the bay from a distant source. Thumps of ice every so often clacked against the side of the boat, not a particularly cold winter, but enough to cast bobbing remnants in amongst the boats. Most captains were too cold shy to weather it out in their boat, he was completely the opposite. It was when he could truly be comfortable, on his own anyway. The weather kept him from making any more trips to Ireland at least until late April. He’d been patrolling the waters down the coast, into areas less traveled. The more he explored this world, resentment had begun building. The squabbles, the pettiness. His own world fought for the right to live. Exist. Generations of his world saw unimaginable struggles, for a cause. Right and wrong. Here? Money. Power. Not the right to live beyond the boundaries of an oppressive regime. Here, petty squabbles about who came from where and when and how. It had become too much, and the fate-humbled king had unleashed in a new way. His first take down was a ship in what he was told was once the Carolinas. The ship had intercepted and stolen a shipment of one of Narwa's cargos. Taking it upon himself to liberate the cargo, he'd returned it to New York. He went out again, and liberated another. The pirates, had begun calling him one. Upon further investigation, the moniker felt good. He’d seen the pictures, the giant sailing ships that were grander than his dragon. The first few he doubted his intentions, but the more he took down the random looters and ferries of outworlders that were being swindled out of their money in exchange for being left adrift to die at sea, or worse… the better it felt. The thought of him being ripped from his world as penance for his bloodlust there was being quickly dashed the more ships he sunk, and the more ships he turned back for new York that were a farce of a ferry. It was colder now, and the only place he would travel was south. To ferry, and to hunt. Hunting of late, had taken precedence. As long as the north was frozen for the winter, his time had taken a violent turn. Early mornings were routine, keeping tabs of those that had been brought in from various places, making contacts. He didn't speak with most of them, just a quick peek to make sure they were still there. A bar, a tavern, a bakery. Already moving from his boat, he’d another errand as well… a shipping log from one of the warehouses down on the other side of the bay. Course schedules, ins and outs of cargo. More clues on what needed to be watched, and who may need to be followed, sunk or liberated. A casual path past the small bakery, he pulled his dark blue scarf closer around his neck, black navy peacoat fluttering slightly as he turned the corner. He knew exactly why he kept an eye on her. There was more to her than she ever wanted anyone to know. Sooner or later someone, would know. She was already gone. Nod particularly to himself, he went about his way.
  11. HOME | RULES | HOW TO APPLY | DISCORD Imagine being the only Ministry-funded wizarding school in the entire country. Yep, that's right. All the "rejects" who couldn't get into, or afford, prestigious private schools end up at Tallygarunga. It's always been that way, and we're proud of it. Lately, the love-hate relationship between school and Ministry is getting rockier, and that's not all that is going downhill...
  12. Just don’t expect me t' fawn over ya while ya work the room. You forget, been shot fer yer ass before. I don’t swoon when ya lay on the charm. Smirk was light. “Needin’ ta work on that,” he muttered casually before taking another drink. Hell, he didn’t know if he was kidding or not. Their relationship was unusual… he could charm the panties off of anyone -well, his money always could anyway- but he had admitted to himself a while ago that he would be ultimately disappointed if It ever worked with her. He didn’t spew bullshit at anyone, he was genuine. It was the “exoticism” of the package that always did people in; stereotyped romantic view of what and who he was. It may have been true in some respects. In reality, the most outgoing were always the loneliest. Being the only one from home he knew still existed made it even worse because it made him more of an enigma. Brow quirked slightly when she admitted her oddities were drawn to him. He was genuinely curious who else knew about them. Other than you?.......one… other two that did….. Past tense? ….they gone MIA on me. “I go MIA all the time so you don’t needin’ ta worry.” Understatement of the year. In the back of his mind, it added one more strike on his life. Order had been quiet lately; they still weren’t one to be trifled with especially when they were running dark. Putting something out in the open at such close inspection after she admitted his presence made them go “boo” probably wasn't such a good idea. They all be looking at yer pretty ass anyway… noone's likely to pay it much attention. “That’s what tux coats are for,” he smirked and finished his glass. Just dont go mojo'ing the entire place 'kay? “No promises, it’s a party,” glass clinked quietly on the table.. Go touchin' some of the girls there like that and they'll forget they came with someone else.. “Wait, what?” he chuckled quietly. “Nah… nah, that’s just… me. Can’t turn that off.” He was quiet a minute, watching the bartender. “Didn’t mean to. Really wish I could turn it off. Not something I asked for, definitely ain't something I want. Just something that is.”
  13. “I can do that." That reply to her words weren't really that surprising. She could see Boone fixing things that needed fixing. So far nothing had broken in her apartment though, but then again she had been living her for a while and it was probably only a matter of time before a pipe burst. If push came to shove she probably would consider asking him to help. That felt all too weird though. Asking a handyman to come over and "fix" something. Stop thinking about that, she thought to herself. At first when they got inside her apartment she was half self-conscious with how mildly messy it was, but she shrugged that off. Boone wouldn't give two shits if her place was untidy. She'd been so busy with working at the hospital and that would sometimes make keeping up with the household chores a bother. “Mother foooo…” As soon as he took off the make shift bandage her eyes widened at the sight of just how much blood there was. A few quick steps to her right and she grabbed her med bag, pulling out and ripping open some gauze. She placed it on the wound after he had tied the tourniquet higher up his arm. She looked up at him as she held the gauze there. "Damnit, Boone. I told you to be careful," she paused for a second. "Sometimes I really do hate your line of work." Admission that she did constantly worry about him. Worry about what he was doing to get himself into trouble, hurt, or killed. “Colder than a witch’s ti…” She giggled softly at his words and shook her head. A sigh before removing the gauze and placing her bare hand over the wound. She closed her eyes lightly and focused on healing his arm as quickly as she could. "Just a few minutes," she said softly as she sort of began getting flashes of the reason he got hurt. She remembered what had happened last time. She knew she'd probably get burned again, but it was only a little pain and pain isn't what scared her. After those few minutes she removed her hand and opened her eyes. Her hand was burned very slightly and covered in his blood. She closed her hand for a moment and opened it after it had healed. She looked up at Boone and tilted her head. "Stop. Getting. Hurt," she said sternly before going to her kitchen to clean the blood from her hand. "You know. One of these days I'm not going to be here to heal you. Then you'll just have to suffer the pain and then have scars from all the stitching," she said. He'd never stop doing his work, she thought, and he's always going to be getting hurt. It was who Boone was. It was who he is.
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  15. Continued in MASQUERADE - DEC 10, 2022...
  16. Continued from Bashes and Betrayals... “I can dance quite well, thank you. The ones that are worth the artistry anyway." Tom smirked slightly. Of that, he had little doubt. It might be something worth exploring this evening. Tom had every intention of making this an enjoyable evening, regardless of whatever business needed to be taken care of. “Second thoughts?” Tom mirrored her smirk as he noted the crowd standing on tip-toes observing the pair. The show had already begun. Tom leaned down, lips less than an inch from her ear. “We are so far beyond second thoughts by now.” Tom stood upright and chuckled openly. The entire point of this was to put on a show…to be noticed. Calloway had just threatened everything the two of them held dear. No doubt he was anticipating an immediate retaliatory strike…what would be his reaction when he got wind that they were red-carpeting a masquerade ball? Predictability was a death-sentence with someone like Calloway. “My show started five minutes ago, where have you been?” Tom exaggerated a laugh, slightly, as they approached the club. Mouse and Toby were in good hands with Tex. Time to get focused on the evening at hand. Leading Eris toward the door, Tom slowed down to take note of the dozens, perhaps hundreds of people outside the club door. He smiled and nodded at a few he made eye contact with. As they neared the door, those who were within reach of Tom and Eris made as if to do just that, but then recoiled suddenly, thinking better of it. Tom has always observed this effect passively…never quite like this. Interesting. Tom smiled at a young woman who recoiled in such a way and nodded to her briefly…then stopped dead in his tracks. That woman…was a werewolf. This was not particularly interesting to Tom in and of itself. She was different…familiar. Tom knew her, very well…like she was a part of him. There were too many people, too much noise, too many mixed smells in the large group of people in such a small space…but Tom knew her and couldn’t place why just yet. He’d have to solve this mystery later. The pause was brief, likely unnoticed by most. Not Eris…she noticed everything…he imagined a conversation to be had later. Tom placed a warm hand on the shoulder of one of the door guards and whispered to him, “Let that girl in, but keep eyes on her. Keep her away from me unless I send for her.” The guard nodded a silent affirmation and wouldn’t move to let her in until Tom and Eris were well into the club. Back to matters at hand… The club was not quite as loud as other nights, the added formality of a masquerade muted the party atmosphere slightly, but it was still quite loud. Club music vibrating every surface nearby and the smell of vomit from under a nearby table obscured by the dim light assaulted Tom’s senses. The Beast within Tom was still pulling toward the door. Control was beginning to lapse. No. Not now! Forcing a smile, he led Eris toward the bar to get a couple drinks. The crowd parting around the pair was welcome and helped to give Tom the needed seconds to recompose himself. The crowd was buzzing around them, taking note of Tom and Eris with whispers of curiosity, but none dared ask directly. It was as private as one could be in the middle of a crowded club. Tom had a whiskey in his hand the moment his arm began to rest on the bar. The bartender knew enough already, and slid a rum along with it for Eris. Tom nodded thanks and began to survey the occupants. Immediately, he spotted Matteo and Kagami. Wordlessly, he raised his glass toward the bartender in thanks and began heading in their direction. Undoubtedly, they would lead to Gaspari.
  17. Elias Island is a no word count Disney personified roleplay set on an island off the coast of Maine. After an earthquake rocks the island, inhabitants start to gain some powerful new abilities. How they decide to use these strange powers is up to you. PLOT | RULES | CANONS | WANTED | ADVERTISE
  18. "Then it is fortunate that you are joining me this evening. Gaspari will be very interested in whatever insight you can provide.” Gaspari. She knew how to be a guest, what she didn’t like was being a guest expected to speak her thoughts without her initiating them. This was a social affair, at most. There was no business to be held there, not with everything that had just happened. Guarded smiles would be had and she would be a million miles away in her head plotting the entire time. It was almost a horrible collision of two things she hated. People, and traitors. She didn’t want to do this. “I know.” Blink was quick, almost bewildered. Christ, she’d said it out loud… eyes flicking to his hand at the comforting gesture, brow furling slightly when he pulled it away. “Don’t worry. We won’t be spending any time on the dance floor. Unless you want to.” “I can dance quite well, thank you.” And she could, ballroom dance that was. Any of the newfangled booty dance crap was so far beneath her it was in its own hell. "The ones that are worth the artistry anyway." As he stepped out, she nodded to the two. The gesture held the trust of years of discipline and procedure. If Mouse and Toby were threatened, they had her permission to use whatever force necessary to survive, and she would bear the weight of the consequences. The mask wouldn’t be perched on her face for very long, enough to acknowledge the theme and then it would become a handsome accessory for the rest of the evening. She was deathly claustrophobic, and could play it off as a fashion decision. She took his hand, knowing exactly what was required in this circumstance. She could be anybody, to anyone, in any situation. There was no smoothing of her attire, no adjusting or loss of momentum. The vampire was like a dancer with the stealth of a cat, knowing definitively that every inch of her ‘look’ was exactly where she wanted it to be. The gawking, she was used to. The mask, was itching at her patience. It was coming off as soon as they stepped inside. The barest quirk of her brow was cast up slightly as he paused. “Second thoughts?” she whispered upward in a sly smile, speaking obviously to only him. The one last comment before entering any event always seemed to draw a certain posture from an escort. The turn of the head needed to pay attention to her because of her height and quiet words, slight inclination downward as if what she’d said was the most secret thing in the world… or the most sultry. Onlookers always seemed to absolutely ache to know what she’d just uttered to a companion. A show. She knew how to put one on, but she hated it. Necessary in her position. “If it helps, think of this as intel and supply acquisition for an upcoming battle instead of a Masquerade Ball. Both are true. It’s showtime.” Her laugh was quiet, melodic and surprisingly relaxed… again stoking curiosity of onlookers. Her laugh was rare, and she knew exactly how it looked. In front of their people was one thing, in public? Tabloid material. “My show started five minutes ago,” she whispered, still amused. "Where have you been..."
  19. Pale fingers ran down the silk collar of the coat and then the dress a last time to ensure there was no way it would move and expose painted secrets, aware that dark disapproving eyes were fixed on her from the doorway. Hayato: Suki janai. (I do not like it) Wakatteru. Shikashi, watashitachiha shōtai sa remashitaga, konomu to konomazaru to ni kakawarazu, Bakkhos wa koko de kazoku o kizuite kimashita (I know. But we were invited and like it or not, Bakkhos has been a good ally as we have built our family here.) Her Wakagashira had never liked the alliance but from the very beginning, the Oyabun and Gaspari, the head of the Bakkhos syndicate, had found a mutual benefit in their alliance. They each had different territories in the city and they respected those boundaries. They also did business with eachother now that the small Kaminari clan had grown a foothold in this new world, particularly with the expansion into tech her family had done two years prior. They were working on technology that didnt self destruct around magic and that was something Bakkhos had great interest in. Green eyes flicked to her second in command, appraising a moment before the faint quirk tugged her lips upward. Even now he believed that the gaijin had no honor. For all your protesting, you do look good. His silk hakama brushed the floor with a whisper, the matching top and haori all such a dark green that in most light they seemed black. Only the narrow keko obi at his waist picked up the lighter green of her own attire. The faint exhale of air from his nostrils almost drew laughter from the head of the Kaminari clan. He never changed. Her unmovable mountain. Turning from the mirror, the small steps glided over the floor as though she floated, Hayato stepping aside to let her pass and following just behind her shoulder as they headed for the car that waited for them below. Silence lingered between them as they sat together in the back of the ebony sedan. It was she that finally broke it. Nagaku haira remasen. (We will not stay long.) Hazel pulled from the window to look at him. Shōtai o jitai suru no wa shitsureidesu. Tadashi, Gaspari to no tetsudzuki o koeru hitsuyō mo arimasen. (It would be disrespectful to decline the invitation. But we also do not need to linger beyond formalities with Gaspari.) Hayato: Suzaku-ue. Watashitachiha busō shite imasen. Kare wa watashitachi o uragiranai kamo shiremasenga, kare ga shōtai shita mono wa nanidesu ka? Karera wa shinrai sa rerubekidesu ka? (Suzaku-ue We go in there unarmed. Gaspari may not betray us, but what of those he has invited. Are they all to be trusted?) She was quiet a moment, hazel meeting his dark scowl of concern without wavering. The answer leaving no doubt where she stood. No… they are not. Car drew to a halt at the back entrance of the hotel. Gaspari had long ago permitted her access to the more secluded doors of the building to ensure their dealings were kept a bit more private. Hayato gracefully slid out of his side before extending his hand for her. The Asian beauty slipped out of the vehicle as though she walked on air, rustle of silk soft as the coat fell back into place. A bodyguard at the door instantly recognized the woman and inclined his head slightly as he held the door open and let them pass inside to the elevator. When it was picked up from this floor, it didn’t stop on any others until it reached the club at the top. The rest of the world would have to wait its turn. Emerald eyes moved around the club with a casual gaze that didn’t betray she was marking every exit, every hidden corner while secretly studying each patron. She knew her second in command was doing the same. Jaw beneath a wolven mask was marked instantly as one of Gaspari's seconds, she didn’t miss him glancing to the bartender and inclining his head towards her to ensure appropriate drinks were started before he began to walk over. Her head inclined with a smile of her own as she noted the glimmer in the dark eyes behind the silver mask. Ms Kagami, you look stunning. She had become accustomed to the western formality of names. It still felt odd but it no longer made her cringe the way it did her second in command. She could almost feel him bristle beside her. Before any comment could be made she returned the greeting. Matteo-kun, it is good to see you again. The junior honorific used to denote his lower station to herself. She reserved the formal honorific for Gaspari only, though in truth likely none of them understood the differences. He grinned before looking to Hayato and nodding a greeting. The Bakkhos inner circle got used to not addressing her second in command who rarely deemed it necessary to speak to them directly. A smartly dressed female came by with three drinks on a tray. Matteo picked up the Matcha Hai for herself and Hayato holding them out, for himself there was from the smell of it a simple congnac. Taking the glass she politely sipped it. Truth was it was not half bad, though hardly what would be served in her own establishments. Thank you. It is unfortunate that we will not be able to stay very long due to another personal engagement, but I did not wish to decline such a wonderful invitation. The stiff mountain just behind her shoulder accepted his glass but chose not to honor it with a sip as she hooked an arm into Matteo's offered elbow. Well then best we see to it that Gaspari gets to say hello. With that the Capo began to escort her through the crowd towards the balcony doors. She intended to keep her word to Hayato. They were not staying long.
  20. Home - Advertise - Plot - Rules The Chosen is an original supernatural concept type site. It takes place in the modern day, within a fictional city and neighboring town in the state of Massachusetts. It offers a handful of different character types to be made and allows members to create their own super powers for their characters to possess. The Chosen's lore is a mixture of original ideas and inspirations from other supernatural series. The Chosen are the focal point of the site as they are gifted humans that the Gods have deemed worthy to be their warriors. However there are multiple other character types to play such as psychics, vampires, werewolves, witches, and those who are half demon. An organization known as the SIA within the government are hunting supernaturals, working to keep them under control or eliminating them. Some people are born with gifts. Some people have to work for it. And some, are chosen.... What are you?
  21. Home | Getting Started | Discord Channel | Affiliation Guidelines | Advertisements Fodlan Chronicles is a role-playing forums board based on the setting of Fire Emblem: Three Houses. Focusing on the Garreg Mach Monastery's Officers Academy, Fodlan Chronicles is made up of original characters and follows an original storyline, making it suitable for those who have not experienced the game but are fans of the fantasy and JRPG genre. http://www.fodlan.com/
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  23. Eris’s reaction to the bottle was telling. Tom could almost detect the scent of a storm pouring from her eyes. When she took his arm, a small spark of static electricity passed between them in the dry air. Fitting. “He knows more than you think, which is why he’s going after all of you.” All of us. Bakkhos. A low growl escaped Tom’s mouth before he caught himself. Eris had seen multiple sides of Tom in the time they’ve known one another. The frustratingly patient, methodical thinker…and the impulsive rage-beast. Tom could still feel the axe in his hand from when he drove the blunt end of it against Trevor's skull that night in the warehouse. It brought conflicting feelings of satisfaction and disappointment. Eris had also seen shades of his paternal, protector-side after the Blood Moon. It was out in full force now. “Then it is fortunate that you are joining me this evening. Gaspari will be very interested in whatever insight you can provide.” After Tom spoke, he heard…or perhaps sensed a very familiar growl from Eris. Tom was rambling. He was painfully aware of the effect he had on others when he wasn’t deliberately tempering his rage. He would compensate with humor, where he felt his inherent anger wasn’t beneficial. He had forgotten, momentarily, that this wasn’t needed here. He didn’t need to worry about accidentally scaring her. She was a warrior, a peer. If anything, feigned levity would offend her more than comfort her. Although, if he was being honest…not all of the levity was feigned. He truly enjoyed her company. “They know the version of me I want them to know. My world before this was cruel, and merciless. I still prevailed. Faced with evil and insurmountable obstacles, I survived. Even when my body tried to kill me… filled my brain with cancer and made my bones feel like broken glass. I fought, and I’m here.” Tom nodded as she spoke. He knew some of her history, but she only revealed small bits at a time. Little by little, Eris was opening up to Tom. He knew how significant this was. “Don’t ever doubt that I can be as brutal and unforgiving as you…” Tom turned so Eris could see his face. He locked eyes with the other predator with a grim look. He knew the war that was coming. He had no doubt about her capability for brutality. That will be necessary in the coming days. “I am counting on that.” It was a truthful admission. He owed her a debt. They were square with the Thyrsus damages. That was ancient history. But he pulled her into this situation with the poison. She put herself, and those she cares about in grave danger because of it. Eris and her family have stepped up in major ways to assist The Family. It was time for The Family to repay the debt. Because of this, Eris was not getting out of attending the Masquerade unless she had laid him out herself. Tom insisted. “He’s checking to see if I’ll still bring a shotgun to a knife fight. He doesn’t realize I’m bringing the apocalypse instead.” Tom was relieved to see Eris’s countenance cool a bit during the flight. Tom was slightly apprehensive about this evening. He was taking a gamble. The Bosses clearly knew who she was and about the Sheut. Tom had already been told by Victor how he felt about the situation. Tom had yet to receive any feedback from the other three. Gaspari had invited her directly…through Tom. This was certainly going to be a feeling out and, with any luck, mutual agreement and understanding. Sensing the return of some levity, Tom raised an eyebrow and looked at her with a hint of a smile. “I’ve been called worse.” "I don't want to do this..." Without thought, he instinctively reached out and grabbed her hand in a comforting gesture. “I know.” He quickly released it before she had a chance to recoil. His concern was genuine. As the helicopter touched down, he looked over to her and offered a warm smile. “Don’t worry. We won’t be spending any time on the dance floor.” He offered a small, playful grin. “Unless you want to.” He knew she didn’t. While waiting for the blades to stop spinning, Tom pulled out his phone and sent a couple quick text messages. One to Roderick to let him know they had arrived, although, from the gaggle of people looking at the helicopter curiously to see who chartered a flight to the Masquerade likely gave it away. He sent another message to Matteo and Gaspari -- We’re here. Find Cavalli and Strollo if able. Much to discuss. He sent one more to Matteo directly -- We brought two others with us. Take care of them. Once the blades stopped, Tom slid on the silver wolf-mask and stepped out to offer his hand to help Eris down. She needed as much help as a cat would, but this was a show now. Whether Eris liked it or not, they were performing now. As she descended from the chopper, Tom allowed himself a moment to take her in completely…sight, smell…wow. As she slid the viper mask over her face, it only seemed to exaggerate her eyes. They really were a striking pair. One doubt crept into his mind that he wasn’t ready to deal with yet…What if the bosses felt threatened? Tom had no megalomaniacal ambition for ‘climbing the ranks’ in the Family. His ascension had been rather organic, although marrying Jacqueline had certainly accelerated it, he had to admit. Tom’s loyalty to The Family had never been questioned by anyone more than once. Victor had warned Tom to expect a healthy level of skepticism from Strollo and Cavalli. That was fair, and frankly expected. Tom might very well be disappointed if the bosses didn’t offer at least one rebuttal to Tom’s plans and actions. But seeing the aura of power and presence coming from Eris as she descended from the helicopter, Tom couldn’t fathom anyone who didn’t feel at least slightly defensive. And that was before she gracefully took the arm of Thomas Gallo, caporegime of Thyrsus and reigning Satyr Stadium Champion. The crowd outside the club was gawking openly now. This whole plan was designed to subvert Calloway’s expectations. Tom suspected, from his short time by comparison, time with Eris…that if he had wronged her in the way that Calloway had…he’d expect a receipt in short order. Calloway was likely wondering right this moment why on earth she hadn’t attacked him yet. Eris’s presence with Tom, together, was intended to be a bold middle finger to Calloway and a loud statement for all of their combined enemies to fear. Tom was just hoping that this signal wasn’t also, unintentionally, sent to the other bosses. He’d have to step carefully around them for a time to ensure that they were cooperating with one another instead of scheming against each other. Tom paused a moment to allow Eris a moment to collect herself properly before strolling past the crowd outside the door to the club. Tom was reminded of crowds before the Nevus event that would wait outside stadiums when their favorite stars were exiting, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite star. Tom hated this just a bit less than Eris did. He had just become resigned to it since Satyr prevented him from being unnoticed. It became a new tool to leverage. And leverage it they shall. Three Soldiers walked out of the crowd. Tex was leading the group out. Good. Tom had grown to like Tex over the years. Tom and Tex exchanged nods and wordlessly, two of the soldiers flanked the helicopter as guards. Tex approached Toby and Mouse and was instructing them to follow him into the club. Toby and Mouse would have likely remembered Tex from the warehouse raid. Glancing down at Eris, he said, “If it helps, think of this as intel and supply acquisition for an upcoming battle instead of a Masquerade Ball. Both are true.” Adjusting his mask one last time, he stood up straighter, shoulders back, and allowed himself to scowl honestly finally. The mask would obscure part of it, and it seemed that crowds gave him a wider birth when he was visibly upset. As he took his first step, leading the pair of them to the door, he said in an even, business-like deadpan, “It’s showtime.”
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