Below is a typical night in the ST room, so when you ask a question and we do not respond, you can see why we might have missed it. And… this isn’t even a combat scene!
http://games.evennia.com/ (We can now be found here!)
We are a roleplaying group which plays currently in a hybrid of IRC and MU* but will be transitioning to MU* fully in the future. You can check the archives for actual scenes played out by our group and read the story so far. You can check out the links at the right of the page for rules and learn how to submit a character if you’d like to join us. OR: Just come in channel and talk to us / get help directly from the STs and system that makes most of this possible.
The Chronicle is a mixed oWoD game, with custom lore and history for each of the available venues. It is set in two separate cities: New Orleans and Baton Rouge.
<Father-Thomas> still doesn’t look particularly thrilled at the guest list or the decorators, but he hangs back and lets them use the building, occasionally crossing himself and shaking his head.
<Devon> enters, dressed in a recreation 19th Centry gentleman outfit, complete with tails, cane, and top hat. He notices the priest, and moves to him. “What seems to be the matter Father?”
<Zilly> seems to enjoy annoying the priest, especially when she drops her mortal seeming and flies up to the ceiling to put things where directed by Sidhe decorator sent to handle things.
<Zilly> “Do this hands -look- like they were made to handle flowers? Seriously?”, she mutters along with the annoyed buzzing of her dragonfly wings.
☠Hexion※ would arrive to check on the decorations to make sure they were magically sparkly and perfect. He’d nod to Zilly. “Great work!”
<Bai> had spent the last several days mostly focused on the new temple, but today was a day he could relax so he makes his way over to Henry’s… the mundane way, for once. He’s wearing casual travel robes, nothing so long that it gets in the way of his ability to move, but still monk enough that he’d get stares on the busses. psh. americans. Anyways. Once at Henry’s house, he’d knock at the
door politely in warning before using the key he’d been given to step in. Still, he wouldn’t go past the livingroom at first. He takes his time removing his shoes and listens for where Henry might be in the building.
<Henry> was in the kitchen, at the table with a cup of tea in his hand and a book in the other. As he heard the knock and the door open he knew that it could only have been one of two people – both of whom he was rather fond of. So he set the book down and stood with a smile to poke his head around the corner and take a look, “Bai!” His was was warm and pleased, a mood that was echoed in the flush that coloured his cheeks upon seeing the younger man,
“What a delight. I was beginning to worry. Would you care for some tea?” He exited the kitchen to properly welcome him back and then paused since he wasn’t sure if he should offer a handshake, a hug, a kiss? Were any of those welcome or appropriate? After an awkward pause, Henry evidently decided to blush more and try for a light hug.
::Maryska was in her Garage, fussing about the parts she was trying to get everything organized, as well as get the copper wire that she had received from Durmah set into place as well.::
<Salazar> had walked a fair distance tonight, not that he minded, but a horse would have surely been faster. Sadly, it seemed that no one was sensible enough to keep one around these days so he’d made due on foot. It wasn’t a hard place to find since he’d been here before and he had a desire to speak with the odd werewolf woman again. Once he reached the property he paused to scan the area and listen. There was a noise in one of the out buildings and
rather than go to the keep, he headed there with a curious expression and poked his head in the doorway… He blinked at what looked like a collection of odd arcane tools and then let his eyes fall on the woman, “Mar-ee-ska of Gaia?”
Katie comes over, still all excited as she is on her way to the church but stops to see Ashe. Since well, he was the one who nudged her. She walks up and then pauses, noticing Salazar.
::Maryska comes into the Trill from the main entrance, her boots clipping against the ground as she walks, her hands in her pockets as she makes her way to a bar stool, and settles on it, ordering herself a glass of water with a twist of lemon.::
<Brian> enters the Trill moments after Maryska, and orders a coke, smiling to Maryska as he does. “Hi.”
::Maryska smiles at her friend, patting his knee as he settles in beside her.:: “how’s it goin?” ::she seemed to be in good spirits as she sipped her water.:: “I got some good news, some clarrification from a little kid named Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, back in Indianola.”
<Brian> nods and chuckles. “Ok, that makes much more sense then shitty shitty bum bum.”
::Maryska quirks her face a little.:: “Shitty…Oh, Garri.” ::she rolls her eyes, but behind those sunglasses, it’s hard to tell.:: “Yeah, anyway, it turns out, our targets are in Baton Rouge, they’re the plague bearers, and your shifter kin.” ::she sips her water.:: “I still have to kill the…alpha, of their group, but, yeah, I thought you’d want in.”
<Salazar> walked the grounds as he had come to do nightly. It was useful for determining boundaries and it made him feel like he was actually doing something useful. It was true, there were other warders about the grounds and ones that were more knowledgeable, but if he did nothing then he was going to go mad. It was the one thing he understood in this strange world. At least the language they used was coming a little easier to him, but that was a
blessing and a curse as he occasionally caught people speaking about him or uttering things that his mind took as insults. He’d begun to see their laughter as directed at him and it fuelled the anger burning in his heart. Even now he found himself moving to the practice grounds to find a sword and take out his frustration on one of the dummies.
<Salazar> knew where the practice swords were kept and while they would make poor armaments, it was suitable to practice with until he’d managed to earn his place in this world. Which was another matter of frustration. Even when he’d been embraced, he hadn’t been this lost. He’d had a mentor, someone to guide him. Here it seemed he was alone among many and too many offered sympathy. He snarled and bore his fangs in anger as he squared off against one
of the dummies and slammed the sword home with the full power of his body and potence combined. The reverberation of the hit through the metal stung his hand, but it ‘felt’ good. It was what he wanted. To feel something to make this place real
<Salazar> didn’t hold back his blows one inch, taking satisfaction as the steel bit into the dummy viciously. He might not ever fight like this in practice, but right now it wasn’t so much about fighting as venting the deeply rooted anger and frustration before it consumed him. If he’d ben mortal he would have been panting and sweat soaked after a few minutes of this. Luckily he was not mortal. He was a vampire and his body didn’t tire as weak flesh
was prone to. But that didn’t mean his mind was dead. His emotion seethed inside him violently and his thoughts vanished into nothing except the dummy that was in front of him.
<Salazar> finally finished, the sword coming to rest at his side as his snarling features faded back into a neutral expression before he simply turned and walked away from the dummy towards the shed the practice weapons were kept in. He’d stow the blade, ensuring it was in at least reasonable shape for the next person before he’d go to find somewhere quiet to pray.