< atton revisited > The information page for Atton has been fully revised and updated with the new map!
< updated calendar > The Fortuna calendar has been updated in the "Other" lore section! This includes a document which displays the calendar for you to see, making it much easier to understand.
< moving map > The first functional map has been released in the News section! This map is also interactive, allowing you to drag and drop between points in order to determine distances. This is the first iteration, and there's more and better to come!
< first annual awards > The results for the First Annual Fortuna Year-End Awards have been posted! Go and take a look at who the finalists were, and who took home the big prizes!
< new default skin > Our new skin has passed the beta test, and is now the new Default for the forums! If you have any issues with this skin, send a PM or Discord to Mellie.
< human lore update > Humans have been updated with TWENTY-FIVE subraces/subcultures which add numerous options, and a little extra lore and flavour.
< magic lore update > Magical Lore has been enhanced with the addition of a post on Magical Education. From Beginner to Expert, this is how you learn the spells.
< a change to member groups > Member groups are now based on storyline! You can change your displayed storyline by editing the settings in your profile.
Welcome to the world of Fortuna, a land of fantastic proportions. This is an original fantasy roleplay that takes place in a world developed over nearly a decade of work and collaboration. We aim to encourage all participants to have a hand in the stories of the characters here, and the world around them. Your choices are key - so make them with pride. You decide who wins the wars, you decide who becomes King, the world is ours, and together we will bring it to life!
Ancorbe, Malscure. 11th Day of The Winter Storm. Dusk?
He lost all sense of time in this place. How could you keep track of the days when so many of them were lost in darkness. In the depths of winter the sun seemed to not rise at all, or else was hidden behind a thick mask of clouds. Even the moons hid their faces behind gray gauze.
Their modesty was commendable.
Aodfhin did not like Malscure. The cold dragged at his bones. His body ached whenever he went outside and he felt like his skin begged for the gentle kiss of the sun. And yet here he remained. Here he remained because of all of Malscure, Ancorbe was the most hospitable. Ancorbe was beautiful. It was flush with bards, which made business poor but the days (nights?) rich. He had heard so many new songs and tales already, traded for lessons on instruments he'd never seen. For a while it had been enough to distract him from the real reason he lingered on this island.
He was here because this was the closest he could get to Atton without going to the bloody place. His curiosity nagged. And here more often than not he heard news and rumors quite before they got to the mainland. This, he thought, was where much speculation took root. Fact or fiction, he didn't care. He eagerly drank every scrap of information he overheard.
Since he could not quite bring himself to abandon the object of his fascination, he found way to make his life more comfortable in this cold place where he didn't really belong. He had set himself up in a small, not entirely respectable tavern right on the edge of the rough parts of town. It was cheap and lacked a minstrel- and more importantly, it was warm. He slept buried in his cloak on the hearth after the tavern closed. The innkeeper had run off her last entertainer when he had gotten fresh with her girls. Aod had gone out of his way to assure her that his interests lay firmly elsewhere, even if it weren't completely true.
He assumed it was the end of the day by the way the tavern began to fill. Dusk he mentally noted though he doubted it would help his internal clock. He tilted the rickety stool he sat on back a little until his back thumped against the heated stone of the fireplace. This close might have been uncomfortable for most but Aod would've climbed in among the coals if he thought he could get away with it.
Knowing he couldn't, he bent his head to the tuning of the instrument in his hands. He was only a moderately skilled lute player and had traded for the instrument second hand recently. He was getting used to it but like many of the instruments he'd had the pleasure of handling in Ancorbe it sang beneath his fingers and elevated his plucking to something with just a touch more grace.
He let himself appear absorbed in his instrument, precariously balanced on only two legs of the stool and the stones at his back. His finely tapered ears listened more to the sound around him than from what emerged beneath his fingertips. When he judged the time right, he let his soft scales gain strength and transition into true song. It was a local ditty making the rounds in taverns like this and he could almost feel the energy in the tavern pick up a bit, become more boisterous. Good. The mood of the crowd was good.
From beneath his lashes he watched them, keeping his music background to their conversation. Nothing interesting. With a gentle sigh he lifted his head, gracing the room with a grin that invited them to join in on some inside joke. Then he let his voice lift above the sound of the lute.
"Fill the goblet again for I never before Felt the glow that now gladdens my heart to its core; Let us drink! Who would not since through life's varied round In the goblet alone no deception is found."
The song was typically a short one, but one he'd found was well loved among the normal crowd here. He glibly added a third verse, repeated the first again when he got a good laugh, then added another that poked fun at a particular gentleman he'd discovered was good natured about that sort of thing. Though it was funny how many people would take some teasing from a bad when they wouldn't from anyone else. Content with the sound of laughter and knowing he'd done his job well, he brought the song to it's merry conclusion.
The front legs of his stool settled on the wood floor with a not so gentle thump and he hopped from his perch lightly, distinctly aware that not all the attention had left him yet despite the fact that he was clearly taking a momentary break. He flexed his fingers, though they weren't really stiff. Even with the fire roaring at his back he felt the phantom ache of the cold that permeated this place, as if cold radiated from even the smallest shadow. And there wasn't enough light to drive all the shadows even from this small place.
He accepted a mug of watered ale from one of Agrippa's girls, giving her an absent minded nod of thanks. Best not to pay too much attention to her. He didn't want to get on his current patron's bad side. Instead he let his gaze dance across the room, seeking the new, the unusual, or the promising.
Post by Violet Macar on Dec 26, 2016 11:54:40 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
The clues that Violet had managed to obtain from her stop back home were more than a little useful. In fact, they'd provided a few different avenues of interest - enough that she had thought it best that Nikolai and her delay their meeting. Instead, she had sent him a letter explaining the things he could be looking for in Aebrynis, and she had booked the next airship to Eleusia. Home, as she had once known it...
It had been far too long since she had visited her homeland, but there had been many good reasons why she had delayed her return. For one, she simply had no interest in visiting her family or the little village of ajatar she grew up in. They were simply too boring, and they knew far too much about her identity. The less time she spent jogging their memories of her presence - the better. The other was the more pressing problem, however. She'd made more than a few enemies in Eleusia. People whom she had offended during her days writing for The Table under her own name. Her Violet face was too recognizable, and certainly more than a few would know her alter-ego Daisy. She needed something different. Something that could blend in.
Whilst the airship made its journey down, Violet had holed herself up in her cabin, books upon books piled on one another as she studied the creature she would mimic. She shifted herself to have long, pinkish-red hair; soft and silken to the touch; perfectly coiffed into gentle waves. Her eyes shifted next, another simple target, her irises and pupils lightening noticeably. She turned the irises to a teal colour, and faded her pupils on top. If she remained as human-looking in body as she was, she'd almost look blind - but she wasn't done yet. The body was next. Slowly, she began to form the anatomy of what she was to mirror. Her body lengthened, her muscles tightening to be more defined, and lithe - the bits of fat she normally carried being burned away. Once the shapes were all there, she worked on the clothing, changing her outrageous attire into something that could blend in. A well-fitted dress of deep green and dusty red, a scarf that would round her neck and cover her head, a washed out cloak of brown to keep her warm in the cold winter she was travelling to. The final touch was the skin. She said goodbye to her tanned complexion, changed its hue to a green, to a teal, which she then desaturated. In the end, she looked like a beautiful lamini woman. Someone who could blend in well with the Malscuri populations.
The disguise seemed to have worked well. She travelled from the airship docks in Malleum, and by caravan to Ancorbe... Where the clue had guided her. Ancorbe, it had suggested... But not enough else to go on. Which was why she dropped gracefully from the caravan and began her search. Seedier folk often had more to say, she had learned, and so she looked for one of the cheaper taverns in town. Eventually it was a small, crowded little hovel that she found; owned by some woman named Agrippa, and staffed by some of the less boisterous girls she had seen around. She took to the bar and got herself some wine -- that seemed like an appropriate choice for her character, though she didn't have a taste for it -- before settling in and looking for the best marks.
It was the bard that caught her eye. In the dim, cheap candelabra-lit room, he glowed. His skin was an eye-catching canvas of warm gold. She wondered what he was, wondered if she could transmute her skin to do the same if she tried hard enough... But mostly, she wondered if he might know what she wanted to know. He was a bard, after all. They traded in the kind of information she wanted... And even if he didn't know anything, he might know someone who would. Another bard who might hold more cards. Either way, she had to admit that her less professional curiosity would leave the meeting interesting either way.
"A well-chosen tune," She offered her compliments to him in the form of a couple of silver coins, and thought back to the rehearing she had done in her cabin. This lamini could not speak in the way Violet wanted to speak. This character needed to be more elegant. She continued: "You seem to have tapped quite readily into the desires of this crowd... You seem almost too experienced for a place such as this one."
She looked a bit too gentle for the crowd in this place, a hot-house flower in a pocket of wilderness. He wondered at her motivations for coming here. Patience, he counseled himself. All things could be discovered with time. So he watched her, letting her come to him with a somewhat bemused smile still curling his lips. His pale eyes were lively with some kind of gentle amusement, like he was privy to some joke no one else was.
"My thanks, lady." He swept a brief, abbreviated bow. The coins he collected without more than a glance, as though they meant little. They vanished into some inner pocket or fold of his clothing in a practiced movement that was subtle, though not overtly hidden. He noted her measured speech- she certainly seemed a bit higher born than the typical clientele here. He certainly wasn't going to protest the improvement in company though.
"I'm afraid that is only an illusion. I've been here for a number of days- you have had the fortune of missing my early fumblings. Would you believe that these gentle folk have no taste for any song that doesn't involve women, drink, or blood?" He gave an exaggerated sigh. There was no true malice in his words though, nor in the widening of his smile when he spoke. He had never really found a level of society he did not enjoy mingling with.
He had spent long enough poor and without prospect to appreciate their struggles. Any illusions he had carried from the relative comfort of his born station were long since dispelled. People, he had found, were people the world around. Regardless of their look or wealth. Still, his own speech had never lost the education of his youth though he had learned to mimic the rougher vocabulary of the sailors and sellswords he often kept company with. Such vulgar speech would have seemed out of place with this woman who spoke carefully and well.
Post by Violet Macar on Dec 26, 2016 15:08:36 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
The bard was far too humble for Violet's taste, but she supposed that those like her chosen character were appreciative of the 'misfortunates' being so kindly about their lots in life. So, instead of correcting him, and forcing him to stand a little taller, her lamini disguise made a small smile.
"I might believe just such a thing," She took a cursory glance of the room and nodded a tad at the findings, "Certainly they are not masters of poetry here." She offered her hand with a vague, almost airy, kind of gesture as he offered his name, and gave the name she would be using today: "Lysandra Evangel."
From within, Violet was excited by Aodfhin. His name insinuated what his glowing skin had teased, and she had never met a fire embodiment before. She was hoping he would take the proferred hand so that she could determine if his skin was as hot as she had imagined. She took mental notes, wanting to learn how to recreate his anatomy for her own purposes.
"I was hoping for a moment, if I may. Perhaps I could offer you a drink with less water, or a dash of extra coin, whatever you like, really."
"Masters of poetry they may not be, and yet this place will ring with sonnets devoted to you, Lysandra Evangel. Few will soon forget the lady with eyes as bright as the moons that outshine all the stars that grace the heavens." He took her hand momentarily, a polite but gentle grasp as he inclined his head over it though took no liberties. Her skin felt cool to him, as most did, and he kept the touch brief and fleeting. His own fever-hot touch was not always reacted to well.
He did not know much about the natives of Malscure. It wasn't exactly a common topic for conversation. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect from this woman. There were plenty of things he could imagine her approaching him for. It was simply a matter of narrowing it down to which was true. Her next words, however, helped solve at least a small part of the puzzle. One reddish brow lifted, a quick tilt of unabashed curiosity.
"I should need for naught while in your company." He stepped aside, somewhat away from the fireplace where a small table remained empty. He pulled one of the seats out for her. "However, a drink would do nicely."
His curiosity was firmly piqued and truly Lysandra would not even have needed to buy him a drink for him to hear her out. He wondered what story she sought. Typically when one waylaid a bard it was for such a think, be it fact or fiction. He imagined she had her own stories to tell. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he could get a tale from her in return.
Post by Violet Macar on Dec 27, 2016 15:58:13 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
Violet - or rather, Lysandra smirked: He was a charmer. She liked that. And yet, she knew to keep her guard up. It was often those so full of flattery who were hiding the most behind their pretty faces... And by the contagious warmth of his hands, it was clear he had much there to hide. She reached out and brushed her hand down his once more, looking down at them and smiling vaguely. "You have such... Soft hands," She offered playfully, purposefully omitting the more obvious choice of warm.
She let his hand be and signalled for one of the barmaids and ordered her companion the drink of his choice, insisting that money was no obstacle (though it was, of course. And Violet had been getting rather close to emptying her coffers thanks to Nikolai's little search), and made idle conversation until it returned. When it was firmly in his - extremely warm - grip, she elaborated on what exactly she was looking for tonight. "I've been searching for a story, as of late. An ongoing kind of story... I thought perhaps if anyone had heard a whisper of it, it may be one such as you. Tell me, have you heard any tales of a pied piper of sorts? ...An enchanter aiding the wicked in stealing away young children?
OOC: So she's asking about things regarding this storyline! Up to you if you have anything or not, and feel free to make up a clue, as it's an undetermined solution.
He enoyed the second touch of her hand and moved his slightly into it, prolonging the contact until she pulled away. He dropped his gaze, watching her from beneath auburn lashes in a way that was almost coy. He liked the fact that she at least avoided the obvious comment. At least, he thought, this would prove to be quite a pleasant distraction.
Once she was seated he draped himself into another chair. The tavern door briefly swung open, letting in a chill breeze and he scooted his seat just a touch closer to the fireplace that beat back winter's cold. Better still was the hot mulled wine he ordered at her expense. It wasn't terribly expensive, but something he didn't treat himself to until he was done for the night usually. He found her a charming conversationalist, though their talk was of little value at first. Then the meat of it came out. He pondered her question for a long few moments, staring down into his cup as he wracked his memory for anything that sounded like what she said.
"I am, of course, familiar with the children's story." He started slowly, weighing his words and what of value he might have heard. "It sounds like ugly business for one such as yourself to be involved in. What inspires such a search?"
He glanced up at her, meeting her eyes thoughtfully.
Post by Violet Macar on Dec 27, 2016 17:47:06 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
She enjoyed her wine as he spoke, wondering how much she ought to tell him. He could very well be an innocent bard, he could know nothing at all, and simply hold a bard's curiosity for the kind of thing that she spoke. By the same flame, he could be using modesty, charm, and warm hands to gather something she ought not let him gather. She met his eyes directly, her bright eyes not faltering, not showing deceit as she looked for it in his own.
"Curiosity," She stated, an air of finality just out of reach, a small opening for a better conclusion... But it was the truth. That was what had started her on this journey, on Nikolai's journey. She had wanted a fantastic story. Something to break her out of gossip and into real news. Missing children of a centaur tribe, kidnapped - some sold into slavery at a circus, others still absent... It was the story her cohorts would dream of getting. And yet, she was finding herself doing more than dreaming, feeling something more than curiosity. "And I suppose, there's a tad bit of personal interest. What have you heard of it? Any mention of such things here in Malscure as of late?"
Her response was quite firm. Though he himself understood the response (hadn't he chased down a hundred stories under the same excuse?), he wondered more what she wasn't telling him. He wondered over this as he drank, taking his time to return to the true nature of her question. The answer was very simple really. He was simply reluctant to give it. Partly he felt like there was more she could tell him, and perhaps more he could tell her if he knew. He trailed a fingertip around the rim of his cup.
"No." He mirrored her tone. If she didn't wish to give him anything, then there was no point in sharing in return. But he glanced up at her again after a heartbeat of silence.
"In Malscure I have heard nothing of the sort. I was until recently wandering in Rielcia though and there were rumors there. A rogueish type in his cups told a tale of making his fortune selling beastfolk children to nobles as exotic pets and companions for their own children. How does a lady of Malscure hear about something which a drunk said some months ago in a different country?" He let the words hang in the air between them, pointed. He watched her, waiting to see if she would share in kind.
Post by Violet Macar on Dec 28, 2016 11:45:15 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
Lysandra's eyes narrowed at the tidbit he shared. It was a bite. A tease. And he knew it. But still, he had shared. Violet owed him for that... And perhaps if she was interesting enough, he would give more. A name, perhaps. A location. Something she could use to aid in her search. Rather, Nikolai's search. I really need to stop being so involved, She thought, It's just a story.
"This lady of Malscure is quite well-read, bard of another plane," Her lips smiled over her goblet as she sipped at the wine more. The taste was awful, but it fit the character of Lysandra, and so she took a second sip before continuing: "My sister... She lives abroad. She knows that I'm quite taken by whatever others are not, and so when she heard tell of these things, she wrote me a letter quite swiftly. After all, not many give much thought to beastfolk, let alone their children. They survive on their own, tribes of the wilderness - somehow so separate from us, despite how close we really are... She wrote to me once about an old man in the woods," She placed her empty goblet down, but her hand did not return to her, instead trailing to Aodfhin as she spoke, enjoying his warmth, "A man too old for anyone to care about. He wandered alone for a long time, finding himself mixed up in many conflicts. Bears. Forest elves. An evil cult... In the end, the man died. But not without writing about his journeys, which my sister gave to me as a birthday present at my twentieth. I loved it so... Particularly the ending... But this story she's told me about the children and the enchanter luring them from home, it has no ending. I hate being left hanging... It's so... Unsatisfying."
She took his own goblet - mulled wine, slightly more enjoyable, but still not her flavour - and brought it to her own lips, taking a slow sip before continuing: "You wouldn't want to leave your audience unsatisfied, would you?"
The skin OTHERWORLD was made by JAWN of WICKED WONDERLAND.
FORTUNA-RPG was created by MELLIE. Images belong to their respective artists. All codes and scripts belong to their respective coders. Please DO NOT take anything without the owners' permission.