The Backways Bar [RP]

(ooc: imma assume the drink is retconned)

He looks around more, trying to find the clock.
But he can't.

But it doesn't matter. He already has his own chorus water drink.

Everyone seems disinterested and doing their own thing.

Looking around, he see's a strange piranha, and a weird... plant... human... plant.. what.
He's seen piranhas before, he made a pact with one sometime a few weeks ago. It would kill some of Zainem's zealots in exchange for food.
But this plant.. human... whatever it is he hasn't seen.

He also saw a strange humanoid figure. But it's lying down on the table.

He raised his staff, enveloping himself in a helix of light.
He flickers out of existence and into existence in a new location, a meter or two right behind the plant-human thing.
He reaches out and tap's the plant-human thing's shoulder. He can't tell what it is.
With a short delay, "Hi! Who are you?"

And internally he's hoping it all doesn't go wrong.

 

ooc post
ohhhh ok i get it now thanks
if ur new to the bar as in i don't know who you are ill hand u drink
either way its not that important

rn im waiting for an excuse to rp something
mainly on what will happen outside of the bar and also to learn more about whats going on in the bar
so... yeah im pretty much just unconscious on the table. you can tell xownfos' isnt dead
ill go grab my character description for the new people

"slumped over the table, unconscious, is the kitsune, with her cloak folded neatly on the table.. Long white hair flows down her back in two braids, decorated with blue pins and flowers along the full length. Two round grey ears, covered in flowers, sit atop her head, accenting the bright colors of the rest of her attire. Her two blue eyes (when awake and not unconscious) stare at you with an intrigued look, as if trying to pry your secrets from your face, as if gathering any and all information they can get. Snowflakes drift to and from around her, each disappearing into shards of mana as they touch the ground."

 

Here’s some clarification on the whole Vylmar/Cult situation:
The Empire itself and the other nations on the Continent have not unlocked space travel yet. While some individuals or branches of nations have done so, specifically House Vaexattor, the Cult is the reigning interstellar power and the only one interested in the colonization of other planets.
Also, Aurelion does not know that he’s affiliated with the Cult. Few in Vylmar apart from some high-ranking members of House Vaexattor and their respective grunts do.

 

ooc
AAAAAAAA I LOVE YOUR RACE LORE SM

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k now i have to chase down aurelion and get all the information from him about space travel lol

 

[OOC] Aurelion actually doesn’t know anything much about devices like the one he used, he only received basic instructions on how to do so from Augusta. (You’ll know the full story of how she got it in the first place sometime later.)

 

ooc xownfos doesn't know that lol she just wants knowledge

 

A tall wanderer, bathed in silver moonlight, walked up a barren hill, his black, leather boots crunching on the dead, yellow grass. A soft breeze blew, sending small pieces of chaff, pitch-black in the night, gliding over the steep slope of the hill. The wanderer's black cloak fluttered slightly in the breeze, making an odd clanking noise, as if it were made of feather-light metal, as his hood and cowl blew in the wind. The wanderer strode up the hill, showing no fatigue or exertion at its slope, as if his legs were used to a land with much less gravity than this one. As he reached the top of the hill, he stared around him, unsurprised by his surroundings, as if he had been there before.

A small ruin stood in front of him, decaying and decrepit, vines and vegetation growing on its long-abandoned walls. Small piles of rubble and stones lay at the feet of the weathered columns, and a much larger heap of rock in the middle told of the roof that they had once held up. Slowly, the wanderer walked forward, being careful not to touch any of the ancient stone. Leaves and greenery flourished amid and atop the stone, growing from between cracks and gaps in the age-old brick, flowers peeking out from heaps of rubble. Nature had reclaimed its own. The wanderer stopped, taking out from his satchel a small waterskin. He stared at it, debating whether to drink it or not, and finally put it back in. The wanderer walked forward, avoiding a fallen brick on the ground, and suddenly stopped. In front of him, on an archaic dais, was a Door. As if outside the realms of time and space, it stood there, new as the day it was made, paint still gleaming on its polished wooden sides, the moonlight glinting off of its green paint. Slowly, almost reverently, the wanderer walked slowly up the stone steps, which crumbled slightly upon the touch of his booted feet. With a gloved hand, he reached for the silver doorknob, and opened the Door. It swung open seamlessly, emitting no creak, into utter, black, oblivion, dark and intoxicating as the void between the stars. With not a single bit of hesitation, as if he had done this a hundred times before, the wanderer stepped through, and vanished utterly from this world, as if he had never been born.

The door swung closed behind him.

(@Endistic )

 

(ooc: based enderae W gigachad blue-pilled)

 

OOC
before I do anything else
the unconscious person is not you
the unconscious person is Low

 

The quote.
The meaning.

"Forgo a greeting. The truth will only send upon the phantoms, to consume the remaining whole."

He already knew what this meant - he didn't even need any help.
The message conveyed to skip small talk, and get past that.
But what to discuss?

There's no need for banter or small talk, the being already said not to.
Infact, it's quite customary in Enderian culture to skip the small talk and just discuss or share information.

He contemplated blabbering about some random topic that he could talk about for hours on end. But would the being appreciate?
Trans-dimensional social norms are strange.

He decided on, "u8 is ab 48 1[[[ 1;;"
Haha, I kid, I kid!

In Enderian culture, you normally analyze someone by how crazy their craziest thing they ever done was.
For him, it was doing a whole revolution, making him an interesting character. Well technically, he didn't do the revolution, someone else did.
He just reaped all the rewards and stole it. Sorry [REDACTED].
But if it was something like going to work late, then they'd be rather boring.
And generally, asking this isn't a greeting, so...

He actually went with "So, what is the most absurd thing you've done? Mine was overthrowing a king."

(@Namakobushi)

 

You can definitely add on to preexisting lore and create your own, it’s just that your specific idea retconned a major plot point so much that a lot of previous events would end up no longer making sense.

 

mb sorry i got confused
kk retcon whatever happened related to me not understanding things properly

 

"So many new faces! Gee shucks, it sure is unfortunate that you folks didn't get ta meet that Neshu fellow!"
She staggers a bit and nearly falls to the ground, her robotic arms
"Sorry 'bout my bedraggled appearance," she says, putting emphasis on the 'be' in 'bedraggled', "I'm a bit, uh, drunk. Feels like my mind is split between concentratin' on three different places at the same time, y'know?"
[ooc: look I couldn't make Thedra omnipotent ok she can't just keep up two different illusions simultaneously and not get exhausted]

 

Low watches, barely noticeable, as another door opens and another person steps through.
I... could do the swap... I have enough left... killitkillitkillitOr... I could recall... if only I could... killkilkillkilkillkillkillkillkillReplace my supply while I'm doing this...
I'll run out soon, I... have... to... choose... kill it kill it now kill them all you can't trust them you can't trust anyone you can't trust them until they're all dead you can't trust them until their bodies are burned destroy every single last one of them
no... no more... AAAGH

On the bloodied beach:
Low's "corpse" disintegrates. That's... confusing.

In the bar:
Low pops back into existence, sitting on a chair, a glazed look in his eyes as he shivers.
"I... no... can't... the scr-no... wo...n't... whh... cards... the...cards... wh... where... gone... too... far... I... went... too... far... now... they... will... now... they... kill... why... die.?."
death death death death death death death death death death death death death
"make it... stop... please... i-ca...n't..."
Low's left hand shudders, dragging out the flask of black liquid from before. However, his hand shakes so much that he drops the flask and it breaks on the floor.
"can't... make... it... stop... them... stop... voi...ces... stop... make... them..;. P;lea;se?"

 

But the night’s surprises are not yet over just yet.
In the far corner of the room appears a small, rectangular door, abruptly taking the place of a rectangular section of wall behind it. The door opens with a faint creak-and a figure in a weathered and patched cloak strides out, regarding the amassed bargoers with a quick, almost calculating series of looks. Before anyone can say otherwise, the figure sits down at a table in the center of the room, taking their hood off with a strange sort of half-smile.
The newcomer seems to be human-thin and limber, with violet-blue eyes, a sharp nose, and short black hair. Beneath the cloak, they wear a simple slate-gray vest, the cloth stitched from silvery fabric. A leather belt is wrapped around their waist, its compartments displaying a range of strange mechanical devices. Most notably is a silvery tube of metal, bearing what seems to be a smaller cylinder made of wood on one of its surfaces. The figure’s hand seems to occasionally stray towards the mechanism, twitching infrequently.
The figure inspects the room again-and for a single second, their eyes seem to flicker from brown to green and then to blue again.
But it isn’t their eyes that draw the bar’s attention- it’s the metal patch stitched onto the figure’s vest-a symbol glowing faintly with scarlet light.
Luthan, Wamlo, and Thedra all immediately freeze at the mere sight of it. They’ve all seen it before; so, so many times. Memories abruptly flash through their mind, their bodies abruptly tensing almost by instinct.
The symbol? Two concentric circles, crossed by a single crooked line.

 

(ooc: ono :( )

 

The door opens to the Backways Bar, creaking slightly on its hinges. A hooded, cloaked figure steps through, his face obscured in shadow as dark as his skin. The only thing visible are a pair of glowing magenta eyes. Talk pauses for a moment as the other patrons of the bar turn around in their chairs to look at him, their glasses momentarily forgotten. Then they turn back to their food and drinks, chattering and laughing just like before. The figure looks around him. Figures, different as night and day, sit together, shoulder to shoulder, chuckling and talking to each other, food and drink sitting on crowded, clustered tables. Machinations of metal and steam and glass passing up various snacks and drinks, clockwork cogs whirring and whizzing as plumes of steam waft up from them. At a far corner, where the lanterns dimmed, and few sat, stands the bouncer, a fishlike humanoid who rarely said a word, and who wielded a formidable-looking stone club. The bouncer looks up and nods at the wanderer, who nods back, as the bouncer resumes sipping from a flask at his side.

The wanderer weaves his way through the tavern, dodging people and machines alike, threading his way through crowded tables with laughing inhabitants, none of whom look up at him. He makes his way to the bar and looks a mech in the eye.
"A glass of fresh chorus juice, please." he says with a slight, indeterminable accent. The mech slowly places its glass of liquid on the bar, which is received by a chuckling, clearly drunk human clad in red leather head-to-toe, then looks at the wanderer and nods. It stoops down, grabs a crate of chorus fruits, and places it on the table. Turning on the tap, it gives itself a cursory wash of its hands, and turns it off. Its metal hands still dripping with water, it grabs a chorus fruit in each four hands and a glass in the fifth, then squeezes the purple juice into the glass by hand. It repeats the process until the glass is completely full, throwing away the emaciated, squeezed fruit into another crate and grabbing more from the one on the table. It shoves the glass over to the wanderer, who takes it with a nod.
"Thanks." says the wanderer over his cloaked shoulder, as he makes his way to a dark, dim corner of the tavern.
The mech does not respond. As if nothing had happened, he begins pouring more glasses of manifold liquids from dusty pitchers and casks and handing them to its customers without a word.

The wanderer pulls out his chair, as it grates on the rough wooden floor, sits down, and pulls out an oddly blue quill and a sheet of parchment. Taking a sip of his purple, slightly luminescent juice, he smacks his lips, smiles, and begins to write leisurely in Voidic, oblivious of all happening around him, as he writes and sips, writes and sips, writes and sips.

 

Sorry to disrupt the flow but can I get a recap? Want to participate but yah know, reading 9 pages ain’t that fun.

 

Thedra, with her (definitely artifical) now-heavy southern accent, lets out a short burst of loud laughter.
"That's a damn good conversation starter! Let me think 'bout mine . . ."
She rests her arm on the table, with her hand under her chin, reminiscent of The Thinker. She appears to be deep in thought. After a few seconds, she snaps her fingers (which produces an abnormally loud sound), and says "Aha! I think I got one!"
"One time I killed two gods and an ancient pri-mordial spirit with a single apple 'cause my friends all said I couldn't."

 

(ooc: read greatboard and rn newcomers are just pouring into the bar for some reason, wamlo a plant being, endistic an enderman, enderae a voidling)