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(Open Rp) The Dark Phoenix's Legacy

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Delmegar

Senior Member

09-30-2014

Rules to joining:

You may come and go as you please during this RP, however, I simply ask that if you do join, you post somewhat consistently. If you are new to the RP, or have taken multiple days to post, please create a reasonable explanation IC as to why you are late. I can not stress enough how aggravating it is to become post locked! And I need to accept the OC.

If you are going to be away for a period of time, and should you wish to return to the Rp or not, please create a breaking post from you and anyone you are currently interacting with, as well as a departure post IC and OC.

No GODMODING

NO OC (bumps and small remarks with a post are fine.)

Any story relating to Delmegar from previous RP's should be considered useless, as his new lore and background are new. This does not count towards relationships however. The following characters from said Role-Players are still intact (and this is to only those I can think of. I apologize if I missed anyone.)

Aproxima - Eclair
Grand Viper - Jurante & Abuela
freAK47 - Jake and Metallions
Caleb - Ridley (Caleb, should you decide to join, if you even read this, I STRONGLY suggest you take the comments and advice others have recently offered you into consideration. Any suggestions made on Ares SHOULD be taken into account for her as well. Please do not piss me off Caleb, though I admit, I may have been a bit excessive with you, I do hold to the fact I have been highly annoyed. And no, I will not go into why. Just do as I ask and you and I will get along.)
ShadowOfChaos - Phantom (Who I think has met Del.)
((If I missed anybody, I apologize.))

And the last and final rule that I can think of: Do NOT make me come looking for you to remind you to post. I will not go to another thread to bump you. Be mindful and courteous, please. Follow this especially as I am unable to contact you outside of the forums for this period of time ebcause own personal computer is not accessible at this point in time.))


Side notes: Noxian Champions, or Champions affiliated with Noxus are accepted into this as well. Other Champions must ask permission first. The League is NOT in this world. So Champions are not Champions, and Summoners are not a common theme.

Let it be known that Delmegar himself is not xenophobic. He truly believes that strength is all that matters in this world, apart from family. If you are a yordle, and strong, he will respect you. However, this belief may or may not extend to his fellow Dark Phoenix mercenaries, whom many are Noxian.
Now, let's have some fun, shall we?


Around valoran, and even stretching so far as Ionia and Bilgewater, flyers had been posted in local taverns, roadside inns, guard stations, and at markets. This flyer was simple, it was a call to arms to any willing adventurer, explorer, or mercenary that wished to join a growing order called the Dark Phoenix, this group being led by a figure from Noxus, a former nobles son, Delmegar Amaron.

http://summoners.shurelia.com/profiles/412

Listed on the flyer were some of their typical jobs:

Exploring ruins
Artifact retrieval
Escort
Bodyguard

But it specifically left out that they were part of some more nefarious acts, such as: kidnapping, murder, assassinations, instigating coups, and more.

A location was noted at the bottom:

Bellshire Inn, located south of the city of Noxus, along the Guardian Coast and just north of the Great Barrier. The Inn is located just beyond a a small lake and some woods, it is a solitary cluster of buildings mostly meant to house fishers, merchants who are lost, and other wanderers, as it is mostly near... nothing.

Those who wish to join the Dark Phoenix, or meet Delmegar Amaron, should go to this place for the best chance of catching him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bellshire Inn, South of Noxus, along the Guardian Coast and Great Barrier.
Mid-Day, sunny, breezy.

Once you arrive at Bellshire, you would note that it was not just one building, but four. There was a small forge, a large building that resembled a rundown warehouse where people could meet and socialize at large out of the weather, as well as to barter any goods they might have. There was also the Inn itself, which was a modest building with three round towers for where residents could stay, and then a stables.

Inside the Inn, on a bright and sunny day with a gentle seaward breeze blowing, you would find it to be quite a cozy place. A large fire roaring in the hearth, several tables filled with varying kinds of people: some fishers, some merchants, old and young, men and women, nobles, peasants, warriors with no noticeable or distinguishing marks of allegiance, which made them to be mercenaries. And several men and women, a couple of yordles, and even a mercenary, all in black with crests of a black phoenix in dark flames emblazoned on their coats heart or on their back.

One man in particular would stand out. A large man with curling black hair and a well-kept beard with sea-blue eyes, intelligent and observant eyes. The man was wearing a large leather coat that was open at the front, a suit of black steel beneath, a red pendant hanging around his neck. He wore black pants and black gloves, similar boots with numerous buckles on the front and around his waist. This particular man was sitting at the back of the inn at a long tables, illuminated only by the candlelight of a flickering flame, scratching something into a stack of papers placed in front of him. He was resting his head on his left fist, his arm resting on the table, and looked positively bored out of his mind.


((Enter how you come to learn of the Dark Phoenix, or if you know him already, and how or why you come to speak with him at this location. I will reply to each person at once, or numerous people, depending on how many are interested.))

EDIT: You may come and go AFTER I have approved of your OC.


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plasmafan

Senior Member

10-01-2014

((I would enjoy to participate, especially having been reading wrath of the guardians. Buuut...I only have my Demacian OC, and with Swain stepping down, I don't know how I can make a reason to join. But ill leave this here and maybe we can work something out? http://summoners.shurelia.com/profiles/4788))


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freAK47

Senior Member

10-02-2014

((what connection would there be with Jake and the Metallions and Delmegar if theRP they were in is void?

Not saying they wouldn't be friendly, I'm just curious))


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plasmafan

Senior Member

10-02-2014

((

Quote:
Kuronan:
snip, here is the link to the post.
))

Alice found herself holding onto a flyer. After having just escaped some...less than happy Noxians, she was relived to have found a spot. She didn't feel the petty men were worth her bullets, so as a result she didn't waste any of them. Not many seemed fond of seeing a young Demacian girl. But, she didn't care. She had come to Noxus to speak to Swain, as he had opened his doors...or so she thought. She was turned down by the guards, telling her that Swain had closed himself off again. He wasn't very kind either. He had forcefully exited her from the faciity.

She had roamed the streets, looking for a place to eat when she felt an odd presence. She drew her rifle and spun around, only to see a figure with a knife staring her down. It was clear he was very poor. She had quite a bit of gold, but didn't plan on giving it to him. The man slowly walked forward, smiling wickedly at her. She lowered her rifle and high tailed it. As she ran, someone came from one of the alley's at her. She stopped, causing him to collide with the concrete. His hand reached for her foot, but she stepped on it and kept moving forward. The two were giving chase, and they were both faster than her. A downside to being in Noxus was she didn't know where anything was. Luckily, she had a sharp eye. She made a quick turn by a corner. There was a fork in the road, one going left and the other going right. Ducking behind the right wall, she waited for the first man. As he rounded the corner, his forehead met the butt of her rifle. His accomplice had turned around to watch him fall, and started after her.

Alice threw everything she found at him, tipping trashcans, throwing the lids, even a hard rubber ball she found. Still, nothing had slowed him. Alice made another right, only to meet a dead end. As the man slowly drew near, she began to focus her magic on the rifle. She took a small piece of ribbon from her pocket, and placed it on a glowing blue shell.

"A Demacian should have known better to come to Noxus. Now you'll suffer the consequences." The man jeered, leering at her.

"You should learn to pick on someone your own size!" She spat back, bringing her rifle up to the man.

However, he didn't seem to mind that a rifle was pointed at his heart. He had what looked like a bullet proof vest on. He snickered a bit at her attempt to ward him off.

"Little Missy, this jacket you see here will protect me from your little bullets. It will take the force of an Ace-in-the-hole to even wind me!" He taunted, taking pride in his invention.

"Lets find out then." Alice grinned, pulling the trigger.

A bullet made entirely of compressed magic soared through the air, directly towards the man. It was trailed by a glowing yellow ribbon. He didn't bother moving. Much to his surprise, the bullet bursted, ribbon wrapping around him. The yellow string encased itself around his chest, arms, legs, and mouth. The more he struggled, the tighter the prison became. The man was unable to remain standing. He collapsed, now struggling to breath. The ribbon had wrapped very tightly around him, giving little room to even struggle now. Alice walked up to him, and gave him a forceful kick to the nose. Blood gushed from his nose. A muffled scream was emmited through his bind. Alice smirked at him and gingerly waltzed off.

Sometime later, she was in a different alleyway. Again, she had gotten lost in Noxus This time, she was more careful to avoid contact with anyone. She found a flyer attached to the wall and read over it. It called to anyone who wished to join. Alice was already in Noxus, and although one door was slammed in her face, another seemed to open right there. Alice looked over where the location of the Inn was. She was overjoyed to find it was not in Noxus. She didn't wish to spend another second in the city state.

The coast of the Barrier Mountains was her new destination. Alice used about half of her money to afford a ride there. She was sick of walking, and she did not feel up for a walk that far. As she sat there, she thought about how to proceed with her life. She argued with herself, debating on just heading back to Demacia or continuing to live on the edge, hoping to make her fantasy a reality. It was not an easy decision, as many times she had felt homesick. Even more often than that, she had felt like her goal was nothing more than an impossible dream. She eventually decided to continue striving to fight on the Rift. Even if it did seem out of reach, Alice clutched onto her favorite quote. Shoot for the moon, and even if you miss you'll land among the stars.

Alice looked at the four building curiously upon arriving. She wasn't sure what to make of it. She knew she needed to enter one of them, so she stepped into the Inn. She looked around at the varying amounts of people, none of them particularly interesting or even noticeable. She was about to leave when a figure caught her eye. He was in the back. Alice didn't know what it was about this man. There was just something about him she couldn't put her finger on. She made her way through the people, and appeared before him.

"Hello, I am Alice." She said, doing a swift curtsy.

((/tryhard))


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SwiftWinged

Senior Member

10-02-2014

Noxus: Southern District


It was mid-afternoon. The weather was pleasantly disposed, a gentle breeze wafting across the cheery village. Vendors lined the cobbled pathway, selling goods ranging from coast-grown fruits to southern-style poleaxes. Shabby buildings lined the alleyway, cramped motels and miniscule businesses dotted the place —*though the town was as pleasant as as any you could find. The smell of seawater dominated the air, the distant sound of waves lapping against the stony coast. A gull cried out, more responding as the flew over the coastal village, heading for open sea. An auctioneer called out faint numbers to the left, his words lost in the endless sea of chatter

It happened that on this day, down in the bazaar, there was a figure who stood out from the rest. A jet-black coat covered his form, a hood pulled over his white hair. A red coloured crest was emblazoned on the back of his cloak, still easily discernible through the crowd of commongoers. Slung over his back was a compact traveling pack and an enormous sheathe, almost as big as himself, which held a sleek blade. Runes carved into the black stone covering glowed a faint blue, pulsating with an immense hunger. Encased, one on each sleeve, were two wicked daggers, one as silver as the moon, the other black as midnight.

As he rounded the corner, the man's footfalls quickened with anticipation. The crowded bazaar was replaced by a line of squat, wooden buildings. There was a pleasant forge, where commuters chatted over mead and talked business, and, towering over the rest, a modest Inn composed of a short wooden centerpiece and three stone towers. A sign hung above the hardwood doors, creaking in the breeze. It read:

The Bellshire Inn


The cloaked figure stopped, lingering a few feet from the shaggy establishment. It'd been years since he had last seen Delmegar, the last time ending in a hairy fight two-hundred feet underground in a ravine. Swift had seen Ordimar though – perhaps too much Ordimar, and he wondered how the Terror Knight's brother fared. Three years. That was how long it'd been. Or was it four? The white haired bladesman had been a mere boy then. Lost in thought, he swayed on the spot until a rattling carriage rolled by, bringing him back to his senses.

Raske ascended the cobblestone steps, pushing the wooden door open and stepping into the welcoming haven. A crackling fire sat in a large brazier in the middle of a small tavern on the first floor. Enjoying the warmth, Swift pulled back his hood, revealing a pale, young face with sharp features. As took a seat at the meager bar, the bartender looked up from the dirty glass he was polishing, displaying an expression of mild surprise. Setting his rag on the counter, he strode over to the young man. "You lost, boyo?" he asked, a crooked grin on his face.

The bladesman's expression did not waver, and he continued examining the man, mildly bored. Then, without any warning, he slammed the table with both hands, a dagger in each. The half-polished glass fell to the floor, shattering, and nearby denizens glanced over. The sharp blades positioned themselves between the bartender's fingers, preventing him from drawing away. Swift leaned into the cowering barman's face, almost nose to nose with the man.

"Listen, old man," he snarled, in tones much deeper than you would expect from a boy his age. "You should know by now that age is no testament to strength. Or shall I teach you?" Swift pressed the blades ever so slightly into the man's trapped fingers, and a trickle of blood ran down the silver blades. The man whimpered. Swift smiled, sheathing both daggers with two quick flicks of the wrist, waving his left hand over the man's cut. A tendril of pearly white energy snaked its way up his finger, almost instantly healing the cut.

"Two oak meads, matured. A pint," the boy requested, in a much softer tone. The bartender scurried off, fetching the bottles and setting them on the counter. Swift paid with two coins — one golden, one silver — and popped the flask on one open, taking a swig. It was not long before he noticed a man that stood out remarkably from the collection of fishermen and merchants lined along the table, sitting two seats to the left. Brushing his white locks from his eyes, Swift did a double-take. Could it really be? He slid his second, untouched pint down the table, the bottle coming to rest in front of Amaron's papers. Swift had already made his way over to the hulk of a man, grinning wildly as he did so.

"Remember me?"

Swift Raske (http://summoners.shurelia.com/profiles/3725)


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Delmegar

Senior Member

10-03-2014

((First things first, and it was difficult to decide which had priority over the other, but gonna go with this... I'm gonna kick somebody's ass. Swift, you noticed that I neglected you, of all people... Well, not two posts prior, aside from the intro itself, I described not only the location of Bellshire Inn, but the weather and time of day as well.

Secondly, I had already posted to plasma last night, but unfortunately the forums were down and my response was devoured. So, gonna have to do that over. I am going to include my response to you as well Swift, but I am going to allow you to make an edit to everything except once you are INSIDE the Inn, as all else is kinda moot.

Third, Panda, I don't think it's gonna work out between us.))

Bellshire Inn
Far South of Noxus, along the Guardian Coast.


Contrary to most wayward inns lost on a desolate roadside in the middle of nowhere, the Bellshire was not the atypical run of the mill hovel. Immediately on approach, one could hear music, not just drunken malady's either, but instruments, almost as endearing as a sophisticated orchestra. Entering the Bellshire, a great minotaur in snow white fur and mismatched black and steel-gray armor stood before them with his arms crossed over his chest, gold linked chains holding the breast plate together over his massive frame, dull red eyes peering down at the visitor from a makeshift helmet.

The minotaur would say nothing, but step aside with a huff. Behind the minotaur, the inn was filled with varying sorts of people of all different castes and roles, merchants, traders, workman, adventurers, bounty hunters, some in sophisticated wear, others in the obvious blackened leather or steel of the Dark Phoenix, men and women, old and young, a gathering. The great many of them were entranced by the stage that was set up to the far left of the entrance, just beneath a large staircase--playing was an old, bald man in good shape and playing a flute, a smiling woman with raven black hair at the harp, a younger girl with strawberry blond hair holding a sort of chime. Their music had no words, was soft and sweet, and miraculously held the attention of the mercenaries present.

On Alice's approach, the man seated at the long table, placed his quill down softly without looking up to see her. He placed both hands--in dark, leather gloves--on the table, and pushed himself up. He finally looked up, cool, intelligent blue eyes regarding her for a lingering moment, the faintest of quirks tugging at the edge of his lips. The man was deceptively large, despite the bulky leather coat he wore over black steel decorated with rubies, pearls and gems of onyx, but was tall, and broad of shoulder as well. If not for his eyes, almost radiant blue eyes that seemed to smile, eyes that could pierce a veil of lies and see the depths of ones character buried in their soul, he might have seemed older, what with his mid-length black hair, and clean-shaved beard.

Just as he was about to speak to her, his eyes flicked to her side where she was holding her rifle, and he smiled slightly. "Not just a little girl. A little girl with some pointed teeth." His voice was soft, surprisingly so for one who spoke for an entire group of sophisticated and known mercenaries. He pointed beside Alice, "Rokam! Sit down, girl."

As if ready, Alice would hear an audible clunk of wood against wood, and see a chair placed across from where the man sat. The minotaur with white fur, and upon closer inspection, with an enormous warhammer slung over his back, had placed it there before he turned to depart.

He himself sat back down where he originally was, interlocking his fingers and laying his hands flat against the tabletop. His gaze never wavered, eyes never blinked as he measured Alice. "Have you eaten? Norton, get some food for our... guests." Looking up at a startled noise, a clang of glass against the floorboards near the counter, he saw an easily recognizable face.

The mercenary leader caught the pint slid at him, and almost smiled again. the gesture, however, seemed beyond the man with smiling blue eyes. "Remember? A ghost from a dark past." Raising the tankard, he took a healthy swill from it before slamming it down against the table. "You'd be surprised how hard it is for the owner to get a drink in here. All respect. All fear. Nobody will come near me without me calling them. Have a seat... Erin(Eryn?) Raske. Or does the Crimson Order stick solely to alias' now... Swift."

((And I repeat, delete OOC after I see it.

Pasma, I have to ask. Are you somebody else on the fora? You knew to refer to it as the Order of the Dark Phoenix, which is specifically how I named it, though I didn't say so.))


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freAK47

Senior Member

10-03-2014

((sry Del, im thinking of my post and everything to go with it. I got an abcessed tooth and had it checked out yesterday. the antibiotics the dentist has me on are only making the pain worse atm. Its been slowing me down. But I will post here as soon as I can.))


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Delmegar

Senior Member

10-03-2014

Quote:
freAK47:
((sry Del, im thinking of my post and everything to go with it. I got an abcessed tooth and had it checked out yesterday. the antibiotics the dentist has me on are only making the pain worse atm. Its been slowing me down. But I will post here as soon as I can.))


((Oooo, no worries bro, I've had one of those... lost close to 30 pounds in 2 weeks because I am resistant to the antibodies, and how bad it was. I couldn't eat anything at all. Take your time.))


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SwiftWinged

Senior Member

10-03-2014

// I don't know if you saw it, but last night I did make a post regarding my lack of thorough reading on the intro. I think the forum ate it. Anyway, it's Erin, and I will edit as soon as possible. (:

And edited. Working on a post. //


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Xavaresxutris

Member

10-03-2014

Noxus, Ivory Market

“No, that doesn’t even make sense!” A blacksmith shouted over his shoulder, sweating heavily as he toiled away at his forge. The intense, dry heat radiating from it was only partially blocked by his relatively cheap apron; the blacksmith considered himself tough enough to forgo more efficient protection.
“But you make things, do you not?”
“Not books! How the hell would I make a gods-damned book?”
“It’d be an empty book, would that be easier?”
“No! You- just-” The blacksmith spun around to brandish his hammer, with a few droplets of sweat sent flying by the motion. “Get out, damned void-thing!”

Qui’Los (http://summoners.shurelia.com/profiles/4726) frowned at the enraged, burly man, who was willing and able to crush him to a glowing paste with a single swing. “Fine then,” he huffed, backing away. “I’m sure I can find a more competent blacksmith to craft me a new notebook.” Before the blacksmith could retaliate for the misinformed insult to his skill, Qui’Los darted away, with his notebook floating close behind him. Once he reached a rooftop with a decent view of the surrounding streets and alleys, he stopped, and the notebook laid gently down before him. With a practiced motion, he flipped to the first blank page, which was now worryingly close to the back cover.

His thick-toed, but sufficiently dextrous front paw wielded his trusty fountain pen, to record recent observations. “Note,” he mumbled as he laboriously transcribed his thoughts, “some blacksmiths are insufficiently skilled to craft books. The percentages of book-making to non-book-making blacksmiths is unknown, but should be deducible with further observations.” He paused, thinking about the last five days. Since Grand General Swain had given him permission to explore and observe Noxus, Qui’Los had been tirelessly recording and interviewing every event and person he could. Distressingly, the volume of his observations now threatened to consume his current notebook, forcing him to seek a replacement. This one could hardly contain another couple days of information.

Qui’Los lifted his pen to begin writing his estimates on the frequency of book-making blacksmiths, only to have his train of thought interrupted by quite a rude commotion. Trash cans being overturned, a few pairs of running feet; annoying, but warranting investigation. With a quick, unpronounceable word, the book and pen lifted into the air to hover behind Qui’Los as he ran, jumped, and climbed towards the source of the disturbance, sticking to rooftops to remain unseen.

He cautiously peeked down into an alleyway, just in time to see a young girl brandishing a rifle at what seemed to be her assailant. The idea of intervening didn’t even occur to Qui’Los, as he carefully observed her entangle her attacker with a most curious shot from her rifle. After the attacker was sufficiently incapacitated, Qui’Los eagerly scooted around the rooftops to tail the interesting girl, hoping to discover more about her abilities. After some time, his persistence was rewarded, when she stopped to read a flyer of some kind. After she left, Qui’Los quickly found another such flyer, and disintegrated it with a flash of magenta light from the organ on his head.

“Ruins and artefacts?” he mumbled as he slinked away, “does sound promising... a bit of a trek, but I don’t have too much better to do. Another couple days of observation in Noxus would fill this up anyway...” Qui’Los pondered it more, as he looked towards the southern exit of Noxus. “Perhaps these fellows have a blacksmith capable of making notebooks, too.”

Fortunately for Qui’Los, he didn’t have to make the journey on foot as he’d anticipated; the same girl as before had hired transportation, which he found easy enough to stow away on.

Bellshire Inn, South of Noxus

When they arrived, Qui’Los waited for her to get off their ride first, so he wouldn’t be spotted. When he was certain the coast was clear, Qui’Los scurried to the inn. Rather than suicidally taking the front entrance, he scurried up the wall to peek in through a window, taking note of the warm, cozy interior. For now, he was content to merely observe whatever unfolded. Soon though, his voidborn skin would no longer be able to tolerate the Sun's bright, warm embrace, and he'd be forced inside to seek shelter from it.


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