< 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!
Post by Ichabod Afof on Dec 14, 2017 13:13:45 GMT -7
What was wrong was that Ichabod’s cannibalistic cult of monsters were feeding openly. They would likely die at the hands of someone all too heroic, or they would live long enough to cause him personal trouble. Neither was good, and neither was something he could tell Ophelia.
Or could he?
She was so desperate for him, or for any man’s interest of this kind, so perhaps she would be more forgiving? Understanding? ...Malleable?
"It’s complex," He finally answered, deciding he would let her desire it as much as she desired him, "A problem I need to fix. Now, and alone." He turned back to her finally, and then put a hand to her cheek as softly as Ichabod had ever managed - something truly difficult for his hard as stone interior, "Keep your fire for me."
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Dec 15, 2017 10:21:23 GMT -7
Ophelia was not at all ready to say her goodbyes tonight, not while her ‘aide’ was lying dead (or dying) in some darkened tunnels, and no one was on the streets, and it was the perfect opportunity to take her life back, even if just for one night. Ichabod could keep her fire himself, because she wasn’t going home without another touch, another word, another everything she could possibly get from him.
"I’ll go with you." She supplied, ehr hand grasping his at her cheek, "You have devoted yourself to my problem, shall I not devote myself to your’s? Ichabod… I will share in your struggles as swiftly as I will share in your pleasures. You need not walk alone, not so long as… Well, not as long as there are shadows I can hide within, for now. Please, there is no telling how long it will be before I will next be able to do this for you."
Post by Ichabod Afof on Dec 17, 2017 10:42:48 GMT -7
She volunteered, and Ichabod wore a mask of fear over his features. A man who truly cared for her would not ever permit a woman near his vampiric monsters, no matter the aid she might provide. Ichabod would need to as well, in order to maintain the ruse that she was making all of her decisions for herself. He would leave her here, in the storm, with a memory of himself on her skin. She would do as she did when she followed him through the tunnels -- lay her life on the line. He was almost sure of it.
"Ophelia," He moaned balefully, pulling his hand away, and moving it and it’s pair to her shoulders to still her excitement, "It is too dangerous. The very thought of something happening to you-- and before your freedom is secured, I--" He swallowed dramatically, not able enough to summon up a crocodile tear. He held onto the moment for a breath, and then, at a precise and perfect time, embraced her tightly. His arms enveloped her easily enough, and his hold was tight enough to feel protective, but not enough to feel dangerous.
"I will not entertain the thought of anything happening to you," He cooed in her ear, breath both hot and cold at her ear, "You must return home to safety. If not for yourself, then for me, for the sake of my heart."
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Dec 20, 2017 9:31:26 GMT -7
He was so concerned about her, and she really couldn't remember the last time anyone had cared so much... Yes, Claudius always wanted to make sure he knew where she was, and always had people watching and following and caring for her, but it wasn't for her, it was for him, she was just an extention of him. Ichabod CARED, he really cared, he did not want her to get hurt, and she melted before him, not able to form words or really move as his lips were near her ear and he told her just that, just what she needed to hear. She would not listen to him, she could not listen to him. If Claudius saw her as an extention of himself and she would obey him, then being free with Ichabod meant that she would not obey him, and in fact she would do what she thought was right... she would help protect him.
If it was really as dangerous as he said it was, then he could get hurt, or much worse, and he was her only hope of freedom right now, and she was also so completely desperate for the other things he had to offer her, and so she would not bear it if something were to happen. He did not want her to follow? She would tell him otherwise, and then if he needed her help, she would be there, his protector, and he would thank her, and maybe even...
Her cheeks were hot and red and they were not the only part of her reacting to his closeness or her imagination, but she needed to control herself enough to respond. Her arms completed the embrace he had started and she buried her face in his chest where everything smelled of sand and dirt and a field and FREEDOM. "If that is what you ask, I shall obey it," She murmured back to him, the words coming easily as she had said them many times over her life, "Just return to me, okay?"
Post by Ichabod Afof on Dec 21, 2017 18:47:38 GMT -7
He had to be somewhat thankful that in their current position, Ophelia could not see Ichabod’s face, because he could not contain the eyeroll that forced its way onto his face. She was so pathetic, this was too easy. Sabela was one thing, she was already twisted, evil. She enjoyed the darkness he had. Ophelia? She was merely such a fool that she believed his act as he played the part of her tall, dark, and strange hero. She didn’t realize that she was playing the part of a nail, and he the hammer. "I give you my word," He whispered back, nuzzling somewhat into her hair before pulling free of her mildly vice-like embrace. "Now I must go."
And go he did. Not into the tunnels, as would have been easiest, but through the snow. In the tunnels he would be out of the eyes of any suspicious on-looker peeping from their window. In the tunnels he would not have to trudge through the many feet of snow that was quickly filling the streets around him. However, in the tunnels, Ophelia could fall prey to a trap she had not learned like the others, and her potential could be wasted. His flirtations could be for naught -- and what a painful waste that would be.
When he was finally a distance enough away from Ophelia, breaking through the snow with sandy feet that kept the ice underneath from slipping under him, Mother finally spoke up. She had been so quiet, but now she had much to say.
THE GIRL HAS AN INTERESTING POWER, She told him, as if he had not noticed.
"I have a plan already," He responded swiftly, "I believe we can break your seal more easily, more quickly with her help. Then I can leave this place and go somewhere more pleasant. Somewhere… Warm."
WATCH YOUR TONGUE, THIS PLACE IS YOUR TRUE HOME, NOT THAT SAND-ROTTED HELLHOLE YOU CALL 'MUERTE'.
Ichabod couldn’t imagine seeing Dirys as his home. It was Mother’s home, yes, her creation, her land… But he was a demon. He was forged of her, from her prison in Ephilroa, he was forged of man, in Muerte. He would never turn again her, he could never, but he could easily turn on this snowy hellscape.
NOW, THE GIRL… SHE HAS USE BEYOND MY SEAL.
"Oh?" She was very useful for that seal, immensely useful, and he thought of others that perhaps she could assist with. Illusions, he doubted, would help with retrieving artifacts or assassinating important people.
WITH TIME AND NURTURE, SHE CAN BE AN OBJECT UNEXPECTED. A RABBIT DOMESTICATED TO MY WILL.
Oh. That was her intent. He could not imagine Ophelia doing such a thing, being capable of such a thing. "I’m certain she would be more adept at hunting down relics," He murmured back, his Mother causing a shooting pain behind his eyes with a crystalline formation at his insolence.
WITH YOUR HAND, SHE SHALL DO IT. YOU MUST REMAIN ALL SHE DESIRES UNTIL SHE HAS SERVED EVERY PURPOSE I DESIRE. IS THIS UNDERSTOOD?
He would need to hold up this charade for longer than he anticipated. He could not just… Kill her before he left Dirys. He imagined the things he would need to do to maintain the charade, worse than he had done to this point. His spine clenched and his limbs grew hard, but he finally laughed and said: "The things I do for you, Mother."
The conversation all but died and Ichabod’s frame frozen in the silhouette of a burning oil lamp on what was a ghastly sight. He had found his way apart from the square, and was now looking upon a section of row houses home to those merchants who could afford to live within the city.
Three of the doors before him were open, one that had it’s lock picked (or perhaps was unlocked), and two that had simply been smashed in. There was also blood, a lot of it, looking almost like a grey expanse of dye on the snow in the darkness. When light caught it,however, it was clear that the colour was a pinkish red, and that there were hulking humanoids over them, piling snow into their open maws to not waste a single precious drop. These were true monsters, more akin to a mysterious beast than a demon like him.
One of them was not monstrous, however. The infection had coiled in her skin and her body had absorbed it, accepting it like a transplanted organ, a missing piece it needed to survive… The girl from Malscure. She was not hunched, feeding, breaking, biting. She was wild-eyed, yet calm, and walked to each house methodically, drawing a symbol of Sriae on each door. He appreciated the artistry more than the act itself, and couldn’t help but smile. It was interesting what they kept of their past selves, and what was formed in the emptiness Solana’s blade had created. It was interesting, and it had so much more potential.
Solana’s blade. Yes, that thing that could command them so easily. It was absent, gone along with the woman in belonged to, off to the colder north. He would need to coax them in his own way.
Deciding he had watched enough of the scene, Ichabod finally steps towards his little monsters, heads shooting up from their feeding at the sound. He sees strange eyes widen in excitement, and they crawl and crumble over to him, lapping haplessly at the air for a taste of the addiction he has made them love so much. He crouches somewhat to welcome them in, but as he does -- the girl hisses. They stop, shudder, and all heads turn to the worshipper of Sriae, the rebel leader.
He straightens up, and moves his arms wide in a show of peace before telling her: "I’m sorry. I should not have been late."
Last Edit: Dec 26, 2017 15:41:25 GMT -7 by Ichabod Afof
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Jan 1, 2018 15:38:45 GMT -7
As he left her, the cold finally set in, a chill that replaced the warmth her body had made in excitement, and it stuck her in place for a moment as she watched him go. Her heart and her mind tried at once to process everything that had happened, how her world had flipped upside-down, and how she felt something she hadn't felt in so long that might have been love, or might have been something entirely different that she couldn't understand, but thought was love. Either way, she knew that her heart now belonged to Ichabod and that she would do everything in her power to ensure he held up his end of the bargain... Which meant she was going to follow him.
As soon as he was out of sight she began to hop through his footsteps in the snow, trying to move quickly enough that the storm couldn't catch them. She had also heard the scream, but she could not tell where it was coming from... Did he know where to go, or was he just able to determine where based on the scream? She wasn't sure, she also wasn't sure what to expect, but when she got to the row of small houses and saw the carnage, she knew that it wasn't THAT. She froze in her steps, realized she was out in the open, and quickly flung herself behind a wall that she could peek out from behind. Ichabod was standing on the street looking onto a pack of what must have been monsters with no fear...
Who WAS this man she had fallen for? What secrets did he HAVE?
Post by Ichabod Afof on Jan 6, 2018 10:13:36 GMT -7
He had to be concerned about Ophelia as he did all of this; he had to pick the right words; he had to act in a way that made sense of an innocent man... An innocent man convening with monsters. At the same time, he needed to not harm them, to not see them harmed, but to see them controlled. On all sides, he needed to come out the hero.
He had a bare-bones plan. Part one: Establish the threat. Which he would do with the help of the darling little Sriae worshiper.
"Three days," She was hissing, and he cocked his head as if to question her. He had not left them for three days... Had he? "Tonight. Three days. Four days." Her choice of words was somewhat confusing, but he was beginning to grasp it. Four days ago he had left them, three days ago he had left them, two days ago he had made a point to remember them, yesterday he just simply had remembered, today...
"Well, if you can count days, perhaps you have no longer have need for a sitter," He smiled his response, teeth catching a glister off of the torchlight, always too white, "Though you still need to follow rules if you'd like us to trust you."
He saw the flash in her eyes before he noticed her hand moving, and when it wrapped around his throat it was almost impressive. Stronger than she'd ever been, stronger than she could possibly be with her small frame... But nothing so strong as Pelagia's branches. Nothing so threatening as those thorns. There was no part of him that could be afraid of this girl. His skin simply roughed under her, and she could squeeze all she wanted -- but like sand he would merely give way. " 'Us'!" She squealed, her claws dipping into his skin, but pulling no blood out of the soil, "She's abandoned us, too! Why would we bow before such false Gods?"
The picture likely looked worse than it was. Ichabod was surrounded by crawling, heaving forms of humanoids long past humanity, and a woman - no, a girl - held him by the throat and lifted him to his toes. He was prey to the outside eye. To Ophelia, he hoped. He also hoped she wasn't so stupid to jump into the fray. He wasn't ready... Not quite yet, anyway.
Then again, she had proven herself incredibly unpredictable.
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Jan 7, 2018 10:09:59 GMT -7
From her distance, she could not hear any words spoken between the man she had become obsessed with and the terrifying girl who didn't seem bothered by the blood that was everywhere. Who was she? What did she want? Why were the others are crawling on the ground? Were they sick? Was Ichabod here helping sick people? Oh gods, was this the plague? Would she catch it? She wanted to both go closer to learn the truth, to find the intriguing next part of this story that was unfolding before her, and to go further away and make sure that she herself wasn't in danger, that she couldn't get hurt or sick. That instinct turned to a new one as the woman grabbed Ichabod by the throat and Ophelia's whole body froze.
In a story it was easy to just DO something. The author could decide that it would be helpful, or perhaps dramatic, if a character did something, and so they would. The only time they wouldn't do something is when NOT doing something was MORE dramatic, and this is what made the story interesting to read. There was never a time when the heroines she read about in those harlequin novels quaked with fear and shook in the knees and caught in the chest, and looked on as someone they cared about was hurt, but that was what Ophelia did, nothing, she could have made an illusion, done something to help him, but she just stood in shock and fear and eventually when her breath came back she started hyperventilating because this was not the story she thought that she was in. This was terrifying. This was... This was a horror story..
Post by Ichabod Afof on Jan 8, 2018 21:33:37 GMT -7
DO NOT HOLD YOUR BREATH FOR THAT ONE, Mother told Ichabod.
He knew she meant Ophelia. He wanted to ask her why he ought not count on her, but he didn't need any of the fledglings to think there was prey nearby, unhidden behind locked doors. He wondered if perhaps she had gotten lost in following him, or if maybe her husband had discovered she was missing and sent someone to collect her. The latter was unlikely. Ichabod guessed that the man wouldn't notice she was gone until the moment she missed breakfast, only then would he create a fuss, but now? He was being kept plenty busy with a warm bed, Ichabod might wager.
Whatever the reason, Ichabod knew he would be without Ophelia for now. He hoped it wouldn't be for long, since he wanted to see her skills in a more useful kind of action than slapping him... But with Mother's warning he wouldn't be putting any stock into the plan of her making an appearance. No, he would need to do this himself.
"Oh my darling dear," He chided the Sriae worshipper through a clutched windpipe, nearly swallowing the vowels before they could come out. Still, he never stopped smiling. Not even when she hissed the accusation: "You don't even know our names!" It was true. She was the girl from Malscure who followed the Sun. They had a guard among their little ones who belonged to the little woven bear token. They all had pieces that gave Ichabod a sense of who they had been, but their identities were not whole. They were purely auxiliary to him, to Solana, and so he did not care for their names.
"What need do you have of a name when you have powers such as this?" He asked, and he could see her hesitation. She was strong enough to lift a grown man with one hand. She had an animalistic sense of smell. She was beginning to learn how to use the thrall. All of these could be seen as gifts, and she knew it. He continued, "Soon you will be able to hide your curse as well as your mother, and then... Then you will enjoy only blessings. You will be like her...
"You will be human again."
It was that notion that loosed her grip on his throat. His toes touched the ground and her hand drifted from his neck to his collar and then to rest on his chest. She was suddenly soft with him. Her breath was still ragged like an animal, but her eyes seemed to be clearing. Intelligence, thought, insight. She was trying to decide if he could be trusted. Her other hand met his waist and he could feel her pull him into an embrace. He moved his arms to accept it, certain she would bow to him.
He was wrong.
It was just in that moment she decided to strike, or at least, that's what he would tell himself. He had not fallen for a trick. His own dagger, taken from his belt, had plunged into his side. It was a clever place to strike to induce death, not so much to draw blood -- which made her intentions clear. He had to admit that it hurt, since he had not been aware enough to protect himself. He wouldn't die, of course, but he would suffer. His organs, like clay, could gather and reform... But as she twisted the dagger, met his eyes, and grew her fangs, he knew that he had judged her incorrectly. He would not be her hero. Which meant she needed to become the sacrifice.
First, however, he suffered like a man. He crumpled against her, wheezed, clutched, and the fledglings all tittered in excitement at the smell of his blood.
They lunged.
Last Edit: Jan 8, 2018 21:34:40 GMT -7 by Ichabod Afof
Post by Ophelia Rothchild on Jan 9, 2018 10:31:52 GMT -7
Just when Ichabod seemed to have gotten things under control, to a point that made Ophelia question exactly how he was connected to these beasts, they attacked him, and Ophelia did not what to do. Rather, she knew what to do, what a heroine would do, but she was too scared to do it. Instead, she just watched as Ichabod was killed... Gods, was that really what was happening? Yes, yes it was, he was being stabbed in his side, and the knife... Dear gods, the knife was being twisted. She thought back to their embrace, and felt saddened by the idea that their secret relationship would have such an abrupt end. Then, she thought to his plan for her, she thought about how he was going to unlock her cage and set her free. That thought was what activated her fight response. She was NOT going to lose this opportunity.
"HEY!" She yelled out as she trudged through the snow into the lit streets. The leader of the monsters turned towards the sound, and one by one so did the rest of them. She had bought Ichabod a few moments if nothing else, but now what would SHE do? Her body froze into place once more as the monsters looked at her, and her jaw opened and closed as if she was just waiting for the sound to fill in the words, but nothing was there, she didn't have a plan, she just wanted to save him. But there were so many of them and only one of her and, yes, that was the solution. There had to be more of her.
She sealed her lips in concentration and closed her eyes to make sure she wasn't going to be distracted by all of the monsters, and she thought of an army. She imagined all of the portraits she had seen, and imagined them appearing from the shadows behind her. The images she created were not perfect, they only looked vaguely human, and the rest they looked like unmoving paintings of humans, but in the low light she hoped that the creatures would not notice a difference. She put as much into the illusion as she could manage, but with how big it was she could only conjure the visual, and the vague sound of many feet on snow. It was not the perfect replication, but it was something. She just hoped it would be enought o scare them off.
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