Unodus

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About Unodus

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    Voidspeaker
  • Birthday 09/05/1998

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  1. Ashika Hotaru, Shinobi of Al'Juwa, wore white on the day she was to kill an emperor. The white clothing was foreign to her, but she did not ask her masters for an explanation. She paced around the edge of a large stone room, basked by an enormous firepits. Tiny flamespren danced around them, like insects made of congealed light. Actors in similar white costumes continued to dance and sing, drawing the light attention of the invested nobles. The female dancers wore grand silk dresses, tightly fitted, the left sleeve longer than the right one, covering the hand. Their pure black hair was pinned up atop their heads, woven with gold ribbons or ornaments, along with gems that glowed with Stormlight. Beautiful. Profane, but beautiful. Yet these people were also going to break their treaty of only a few hours. It made no sense. But what was she to do? She was Shinobi. She did as her masters demanded. Ashika did not sway to the drums, drink the sapphire sake, or move to dance. Few at the treaty-signing celebration noticed her. She was just another actor, and most out here thought Ashika's kind were docile and harmless. She began to pick her way out of the room. The performance had lasted long; even the Emperor had retired hours ago. Musicspren zipped through the air around them, the tiny spirits taking the form of spinning ribbons. She turned, taking the hallway directly toward the Emperor’s chambers, and reached for her pouch and the spheres it contained. Brilliant sapphires glowing at their hearts. Ashika selected one of these, cupping it in her hand. "Who goes there?" a voice called in the Common tongue. There were two guards at the end of the intersection, armed with spears. She breathed in, drawing forth the Stormlight. It streamed out of the sphere and into her, sucked in as if by her deep inhalation. Ashika could feel the Light’s warmth, its fury. The power of it was invigorating but dangerous. It pushed her to act. To strike. Holding her breath, she clung to the Stormlight. She could hold it for only a few minutes at most. Infused, Ashika turned to the guards. They could see that she was leaking Stormlight, wisps of it curling from her skin like luminescent smoke. “What . . . what are you?” The guard’s voice had lost its certainty. “Spirit or man?” “What am I?” Ashika whispered, a bit of Light leaking from her lips, “I am... Dishonoured.” Her Shardblade dropped into her waiting hand. It formed as if condensing from mist, water beading along the metal length. Her Shardblade was long and thin, edged on both sides, like a Katana. Ashika swept it out in a flash, carving a line passing through one guard’s neck to the other. As always, the Shardblade killed oddly; it cut easily through anything inanimate, the metal fuzzed when it touched living skin. It travelled through the guard’s neck without leaving a mark, but once it did, the man’s eyes smoked and burned. A Shardblade did not cut living flesh; it severed the soul itself. A voice called out from behind her, another guard, “Shardbearer! A Shardbearer assaults the king’s hall! To arms!” That was when the woman in white began to sprint, using the Stormlight to conjure illusions of herself, rushing in different directions as she raced into the Emperors chambers. Her instructions were clear. Kill the emperor, but be seen doing it. Even these clothes, her masters had been specific. White to be bold. White to not blend into the night. White to give warning. For if you were going to assassinate a man, he was entitled to see you coming. ______ We've just about got our campaign off the ground, and are looking to welcome and invite more new players! The White Narwhal is a D&D 5e campaign game, using a play-by-post roleplaying format. It takes place in a Roshar-like setting, re-imagined into a world more closely resembling feudal Japan/China, with greater emphasis on the Wuxia genre. In this world, Longswords become Katana, and Knights become Samurai. Our player base spans most timezones, with characters ranging from members of the political elite- to mysterious worldhoppers from faraway lands. These individuals find themselves in the world of Boi'cer, where adventurers scour the world for exotic monsters to collect the rare components necessary for magic items. Meanwhile, nobles and warlords scrabble for local power. You can find us and play on Discord by clicking this link: https://discord.gg/4QVbRFz Come say hi!
  2. Jenna crooked an eyebrow, those were bold words for a man who had turned their back on her line of work, "It sounds to me, Doc, like you've been spending a little too much time with the Lightweavers. They let you see, what they think you want to see." She hums as she inspects the cleanliness of the kitchen, "How about you give me a tour of the place, and you let me know if I'm right page..." She says as she gestures Doc to lead the way, following close behind, "So, you recruit orphans that have completed the Nahels bond, and they live here with you? How many child-radiants are living here, exactly? Does anyone know they live here?" As the Doc ponders the questions, she adds "And, just out of my own curiosity, are you familiar with the works of Charles Dickens?"
  3. "Over seven years ago now? I know it was late December..." She muses aloud. Had it already been that long since the Mayan Doomsday prophecy that had thrust her into the chaotic world of Radiants? Had she really only been 15 at the time? She folded her arms, "You've become awfully out of the loop on the bigger picture, by the way. It's still not too late to reconsider your stance. The increase in Radiant manifestations, Voidbringer sightings... The extreme weather, the heightened political climate..." She trailed off, expression distant. All of it was indicative of one thing, the one thing all Radiants feared. The Night of Sorrows. Jenna paced the room, hands in pockets as she took in the details. She was definitely in a house, but not one she had been inside of before. "Anyway, you know why I'm here... So let's cut to the chase. We are both interested in the welfare of young Radiants. So why didn't you call us? You know we have both the means and resources. Why put them at extended risk, rather than come to us for help?" @Dr. Dapper
  4. An hour passes of preheating, baking, testing and allowing for extra time before Jenna opens the oven and carefully removes each of the now finished clay pieces. She sets them back on the shelf to cool, ready for glazing. With no one else currently in the room, she uses her nokia to snap a picture of the pieces she deems the most suspicious or intriguing. As she left the room, she notices Raxion suspended from the ceiling. In black ink, the Inkspren had woven the word "Strange-Woman" into the webs to be read, "Yes Rax, I know Nym is a Windrunner. I haven't got time to debrief now, we've got to go." The webbed words were already starting to fade, but Raxion obediently nodded and hopped down onto her anorak, scuttling into open pocket. Jenna hummed and stepped into the Teachers restroom, using the mirror to wipe the dried clay off her cheek, put on a touch more lipstick... It wasn't every day one got to make a dramatic entrance, she was hardly going to waste it looking unprofessional. Jenna threw her sunglasses on for good measure. She opened her phone and sent a text to the number supplied to her by her colleague. Somewhere in the world, a phone buzzed, displaying the message: UNKNOWN NUMBER:"What's up, Doc?" Jenna smiled, unhooking a small jade earring as she inhaled stormlight. The message had gone through, which meant atleast she wasn't going to get stranded in low orbit today. She unlocked the door and began typing a new message, "Look behind u". Her finger hovered over the send button as she reached outward with her open hand... And pressed send just as she Elsecalled into a different plane of reality. She snapped forward, catching a small bead of glass before it could zip away. "Sending... Sending..." It whispered to her mind, tugging against her. She took stock of her surroundings. Enclosed by gargantuan monoliths of obsidian, rivers of beads crashing down them like waterfalls. The sky was an angry green, with large purple cracks tracing the horizon. Busy bits of glass pinged through the air like bullet shrapnel. In the distance, great cyclones of beads roared past like a swarm of angry hornets. A place of learning was always going to be a bit of a warzone in this Realm. She'd have to act fast. The woman in technicolor jumped and drew a second bead out of her pocket, using it to will a a protective dome-like sledge out of translucent plastic into existence, riding it down as she descended into the swirling cauldron below. Idly, Jenna wondered what this place must have been like before the advent of computers. Before the data-pollution. Jenna infused the bead in her hand with Stormlight, soulcasting a small tether to it to her hand. Supercharged, it began to violently vibrate and sped forward- pulling Jenna in tow. In the physical realm, she was probably travelling just under the speed of light. On reflex, she kept her freehand raised to split the sea of glass marbles now rapidly zipping toward her. "Truths... Truths..." She could hear them whispering, like hungry vultures. Getting in one was easy, but a toll was needed to cross back. "A meteor didn't wipe out the dinosaurs. The last Everstorm drove them into extinction." Jenna told the voices as she sensed her destination getting closer. The voices ooed. Jenna used the opportunity to push forward with stormlight, to break back out of the cognitive realm. There was a flash of light, and suddenly Jenna was back on solid ground again. She took off her sunglasses, letting her eyes adjust to the new light. She could already seen an indistinct figure in front of her, a phone in one hand, "Miss me?" She smiled, flicking her hair back. It wasn't clear yet, but hopefully she hadn't Elsecalled to Doc in the shower or anything.
  5. this thread still blows my mind a lil
  6. Jenna smiles and nods her head appreciatively, as if her suspicions had been confirmed. "That's alright, just discovering the existence of a new Radiant community has been a huge help." Jenna tells her, taking off her apron and setting an hour timer on the clay oven. She opens the door for Nym, "It's getting late, so you better head off to your next lesson. I'll be here if you ever need to talk again though, ok?" She tells the studious windrunner, "I know we've been going over some pretty heavy stuff... And I know there must be a lot that I'm saying that you're still having to process, so I'll understand if you want to talk again. In the fullness of time, I'm sure my organisation will be very eager to actively support you." The woman in technicolour reaches into her pocket and takes out an an antique-looking nokia... flip-phone? "And this, is my mobile number." She says, copying it down on to a post-it note and handing it to Nym, "... In case there's an emergency, call me." She smiles to Nym as she leaves the classroom, and as she closes the door behind her, opens her phone again and begins writing a text to a different number, It simply reads: "Get me our file on James Deoven." She presses send.
  7. Jenna listens intently, letting the Shardpen fall out of her hand. It shimmers back into fine mist as it falls and disappears. The teacher in technicolor stops what she's doing and holds Nym's freehand comfortingly when she notices the younger girl is crying. Voidbringers here, already? She crouches beside the girl, eye level with her, her expression a mask of intense focus. "Listen closely. Every action, has an equal and opposite reaction. Wherever evil rears it's head, the incorruptible are drawn to oppose it." She tells Nym. "... I work for an organisation which has an invested interest in your continued survival. We also have intelligence that suggests an imminent threat of cataclysmic proportions is about to be let loose in this region. I've been sent here to prevent that from happening, or failing that, send you and any other Radiants to safety." One of those statements was a lie. When had she gotten so good at that? "... If there are any more Radiants in this area, it is absolutely vital that I establish contact with them as quickly as possible. Can you give me an address, email, phone number.. Anything like that at all?" @Ookla the very snazzy
  8. "Did you know behind many great heroes of our world, there is also their muse?" Jenna hums, closing the door behind them as the two enter the oven room. She begins the process of loading the oven with the students things from the shelf. "Socrates had his spirit-guardian... Joan of Arc, her angel..." She says, looking to Nym with upmost seriousness, "What I am... And, what I suspect you are too, modern occultists might refer to as a form of... "Enlightenment". That is where the term "Radiant" comes from, no? After all, Tulpa's and Thoughtform... Concepts that we would call Spren, stem from the texts of Tibetan Buddists as early as the 8th century. And these... Concepts, these reoccurring ideas, are littered throughout history- just beneath the surface." Jenna holds out her hand, and a glimmer of mist pools around her open palm, coalescing into ink-black, intricately patterned form in her hand. Smaller than a dagger, with a spear-like shaft seemingly formed of out of some kind of obsidian-like crystyal, and a needle-like point that glitters like cut glass. She holds it up for Nym to examine. A Shard-quill. "I am a Teacher, perhaps unlike any that you have ever seen before. But in order for me to help you learn about.. What we are, you need to talk to me about what's been happening to you." @Ookla the very snazzy
  9. Jenna returns a steely calm, detached look despite her racing mind, humming softly. This was deviating quickly off plan, her directions were to be non-intrusive. impartial. Somehow she was now at an interlude where her answer could make or break the thin veil of trust that established essential communication. She would have to play by ear. "I'm... A Teacher." The woman in technicolour emphasises gently, and in subtle reference of the student gallery around them adds, "... But perhaps we could continue this conversation after class, if you'd like. I will need an assistant to warm up the oven. Just give me one moment." @Ookla the very snazzy "Raxeon, keep a close eye on this one." She instructs without a spoken word, sensing the unseen watcher above stirring. The time was beginning to draw close to the end of the lesson, and she noticed many students were already starting to put their pieces away pieces. Her eyes glance to the pieces she had seen Rob and Shana place, making a mental note to ask them about in private as well. She begins to pace the class, addressing the class, "It's time to wrap up and prepare for your next lesson, everyone. Anything you want to have saved for next week, put on the back table- wrapped up!- and anything ready for the oven, on the shelf. And before you go, make sure to wash your brushes..." She continues her concluding of the lesson, and sighs internally as many students quickly lose interest and start to pack away. Before the other girl, Shana, can slip away, Jenna tactfully drifts by her table and picks up the broken wooden off the floor, "That's quite a strong grip you have, Shana." She observes as she crouches to brush up the splintered pieces of wood from the floor, and as she does so... Starts to frown. "Do you need to see a nurse?" She asks as she smears a drop of blood off the floor with her finger and to inspect curiously. @Sorana
  10. "Nym, was it? Well, let me have a look." Jenna turns and smiles appreciatively as she accepts the clay, turning it in her hands as she appraises both sides, She read the front twice just to be certain, but there was no mistaking the Immortal Words. The mantra lay the foundation to practically every Radiant Order, and it was not the kind of thing easily stumbled upon by mistake. As she read, Jenna felt a pang of both nostalgia... And melancholy. The words not only brought up memories of her own ascension... They confirmed her worst fears. The signs were returning. And they were becoming increasingly frequent. Ever composed, Jenna returns the student her piece and smiles approvingly, leaning forward against the main table and propping herself up by her elbows so that she can be eye-level with Nym, "You know, I think I read something like that in a book, once. Though, hm... The pain, suffering and death, isn't that stuff a little... Morbid?" She smiles, studying Nym more closely now, noticing her missing hand. She decides not to draw attention to it. "If you're ready to have this piece fired, just put it on the shelf when you're ready and I'll make sure it gets put into the oven at the end of the lesson, ok?"
  11. "I'm not sure I understand the question, Rob? If you were to intentionally try to create something without thought or creativity, would that not in itself become it's own form of creation? And in attempting to not conform with traditional forms of creativity, wouldn't that only serve to make it stand out more, increasing it's inherent creative value?" Her smile is like that of a chess player, waiting her opponents next move, "But by all means, you are very welcome to try to be as uncreative as possible. I only ask that you also try not to waste lots of clay, as it is quite expensive." She continues to wander around the room, nodding approvingly as she sees people getting on with their work. Her eyes fix on Shana as she hears the snap, making a mental note but not interrupting her for now. Jenna simply passes by her table and supplies a fresh etching tool. Her eyes glance over the words before she resumes roaming the room and tending to the needs of the children as they come up.
  12. As Jenna waited for more of her class to arrive, she surveys the classroom. The sink, she notices, were still filled with clay cutting blades and brushes from lasts weeks lesson. The clay, now brittle and dried out. "Sloppy." The teacher muses to herself as she walks over, turns on the sink and starts to clean up, laying the cutting blades and brushes to the side. From her new angle, she could see on the shelf, the wet clay of a childs work had started to grow mould after weeks of neglect. She let out a pent up sigh of frustration. Perhaps after the lesson was over, she could soulcast the grimy bits back into clay... It was at that moment that the rest of the class made their appearance. A majority of students had chosen to arrive late, she noticed. As she finishes cleaning, she dries her hands as she walks over to the small gathering. "Nym, Shana, Rob, and Edwin, I presume?" She asks as she starts handing out aprons to each student. Having access to the Teachers Network not only made putting names to faces almost trivial, but had the additional bonus of making one appear to possess psychic powers. "Let's get a move-along, people. We don't have all day." she waves them closer as she moves to the main table, and begins distributing fresh clay to the students, "If anyone is finished or looking for work to do, Mr Andrews has left you a task. You are to continue practising your etching and sticking by making a design for a tile." She says, holding up an example piece- about the size of a bathroom tile, "The theme for today is... The Most Important Words a person can say. You can use words, or symbols if you like. If you're happy with your design, we can then have it fired so you can paint it and take it home next week." The task was of course, completely a ruse of her own concoction. The Most Important Words a person could say was a deeply rooted historical precept of Radiant theology, and it was very plausible that those who had the potential for the Nahels bond would have the type of mindset that found it almost irresistible to atleast attempt. She began tending to her class in earnest.
  13. The dark-haired woman rolled her sleeves up as she threw an apron on, tying her hair back in a neat bun. As she left the teachers office, she pauses only to correct a "Chan" to "Chen" typo on the schedules whiteboard. Earlier that same day she had run her own fine arts class, printed out a list of student names to memorise, and turned the school projector off and on again- thus fixing a wide variety of tiny technical faults that may have ultimately lead to an apocalyptic disaster of universal proportions. Raxion meanwhile, had been more quiet than ever as of late. Slinking from inkweb to inkweb, the spider swung unseen across the hall ceiling. Jenna's unseen eyes in the sky, poking through air vents and ceiling panels. The perfect surveillance operative, if only she wasn't so... Temperamental. Jenna Chen smiled diplomatically as she opened the door to the workshop. Many had finished their morning lessons, had a quick lunch, and rushed excitedly (or perhaps dragging their feet) into the art block for their regular pottery club. Instead of Mr Andrews however, they found themselves greeted by her. The Woman in Technicolor. "Settle down, everyone." Jenna instructs them all, recognising a wide range of year groups who happen to take an interest in pottery. She swiftly ticks through the register, "... As some of you may know already know, I'll be covering for Mr Andrews, who is not in today. My name is Miss Chen. But you may call me Jenna or Jenny if you prefer. I understand that you are continuing your ongoing pottery projects, I'll be around if you need any help with advanced tools. If you do not have an ongoing project, Mr Andrews has left me a task for you to do instead. And, Mr Andrews specifically instructed me to remind you all to remember to wear your aprons." She raises an eyebrow, "... I also understand that Mr Andrews assigned you some homework. A brief stylistic analysis of the differences between baroque and classical ornamentation in claymaking? I'll be very interested to see what everyone has come up with, so make sure to have your papers ready for when I come around to mark them."