< 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 Elias Harel on Jan 9, 2018 12:32:12 GMT -7
[googlefont=Montserrat]
[attr="class","mary"]
[attr="class","mary2"]
[attr="class","mary3"]THIS KINGDOM OF MINE,
[attr="class","mary4"]THIS GIFT FROM THE DIVINE
[attr="class","mary5"] Elias knew that he needed to pick his battles, which was the precise reason he had entrusted Sabela to Woodrow. He was almost certain the Lord would be no match for her wit, and therefore there was no reason to fight him on the request to interview her alone. Not when he could pull the same card on something potentially more valuable: A prisoner.
The ajatar woman was in terrible condition. The radiant spells had done their damage to her skin in their replication of sunlight, leaving her blistered, patched and seeping. She was still crying, her body not doing her a favour by falling unconscious. Her mind was likely exhausted from Sabela's own probing, and nothing had been made better by Arzuul's more physical flavour of interrogation. Knife cuts decorated the woman's body in all the places that burns did not, in places that caused pain but would hardly bled at all. He was an artist, in many ways, and Elias could appreciate the work... But if Woodrow knew about this, Elias would have problems.
That was why, for now, he would allow Woodrow to have his way. In truth, the SSPB had no real footing in Muerte until the clock struck midnight. If Elias had clarified the point to Woodrow, it was likely the man would have - as an act of petulant vengeance - gone looking for something particularly damning to Elias. Perhaps he might have discovered the ajatar woman, maybe even shown her to Adesola, colouring the woman's favour distastefully. Elias did not wish to give Woodrow any such time to ruin him.
Elias also did not wish for Woodrow to have this prisoner. This woman knew something about the man Woodrow claimed to be investigating, something she had yet to share. If Elias' suspicions were correct and Woodrow was not being as helpful as he seemed, the prisoner was too precious to give away. Which meant Elias needed to get everything he needed out of her tonight. Then he could either dispose of her, or free her, leaving no paper trail. Then Woodrow could have his access to Elias' prisoners.
That gave him but several hours with the woman.
He'd had Arzuul bring her to his back office, the one hidden several floors beneath the surface of the desert; the one that wouldn't be found on any floorplans or within the mind of any (living) architect. Only a few people knew of this area of his palace. Himself, Arzuul, and the prisoners who had been unlucky enough to be escorted there. This woman was in unenviable company with those deceased and rotting.
The office was rather simple, but with enough accoutrements to keep it's two inhabitants busy. A sprawling stone desk decorated with black glass, kept impeccably clean except for the grooves within which blood had long since stained. Two chairs: One, grand in stature for Elias, comfortable but not cozy; the other small, metal, and with manacles at each arm and upon the legs of it for guests. Arzuul always seemed to prefer standing, and would refuse a seat even if one had been provided.
There were other mild decorations, maps, files, and a table with a selection of torturer's tools. Brought in special for this particular visit there was also a large globe lamp which hung above the prisoner's head, bathing her in light. This was not radiant like the magic before, and it would cause her no physical harm, but it gave a magical illumination to all that it touched preventing her escape. Her skin, her hair, even her fingernails would cast a small glow.
"Remove the bag," He finally said after observing for long enough. The woman had finally calmed enough to stop shouting expletives, and Elias had counted all of her wounds multiple times. Arzuul did as instructed, standing firmly behind the woman and holding her shoulders to dissuade movement. If she was smart, she would be well acquainted with the touch, and would not struggle.
Her face was a disgusting mess. If other parts of her had been singed in the process of torture, her face had been ignited. It was standard procedure for them to do just that to ajatars in order to control their shadow-walking capabilities, but it never failed to amaze him the extent it could deform them. She would shapeshift the damage away if she had the chance to walk away from this meeting, but it would always remain under the thin veneer of magic.
"I would apologise for those burns, but I'm afraid it was you who illegally infiltrated this place, so I'm afraid the sentiment would be empty. Would you like some water?"
Post by Violet Macar on Jan 11, 2018 16:28:13 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
Violet had been tortured once or twice before, and it certainly wasn't something she would recommend. In fact, in the tongue-in-cheek reviews she had written about the events she had given one of them only one star, and for a single experience: one and half -- solely because the quality of witty banter had been something of note. She could not imagine being so cavalier about the subject now. Not after the torture she had been enduring. No, this was beyond star ratings.
This was a living nightmare. Violet had never wanted to die, but right now, she likely wouldn't have said no if it were offered.
After what felt like days of torture, her captor had said something she didn't quite understand, and then removed her bounds. She had stopped understanding him a while ago, actually, when the pain and dehydration had started making her delirious. At first he had been asking her questions, but then... It had just turned to hurting her for the fun of it. He didn't really care if he got her answers, she realized, he cared that he could hurt her all he wanted until she gave them. What better way to extend the game then, by not asking the questions you wanted answers for?
When her arms were removed from their above-head hold and untied, she should have attacked, but she had no energy. They just dropped lifelessly to her sound, indescribably sore and empty. All of the blood had rushed down and out of them, and while they had tingled angrily once, they were just cold and numb now.
And still: Her torture continued. He was no longer cutting her (his voice had sounded male, more male that her previous, kinder torturer), but the light inside of the hood still burned at her, and there was no end in sight to the pain. She could not force herself to shapeshift, could not will her body to disappear into shadows she couldn't see, couldn't cast a single spell -- she had no real choice but to follow (on stumbling, weak legs) as her captor tugged her about down unpleasantly warm hallways.
Eventually the walking stopped, and she was pressed back down into a sitting position, and then manacled. She didn't even have the energy to think an exasperated, but clever thought at the shift in situation, she just sat and tested limply at the chains. She was stuck, again, and there was certainly no way she was getting out without a little bit of magic. And a little bit of magic seemed like one heck of a tall order right now. She would need a miracle of an adrenaline rush to push out now, and she feared she was all tapped out.
Another wait ended as a voice spoke, a voice she could finally understand, and it said to remove the bag. Her heart lifted somewhat at the prospect, but she had little time to be thankful. The thing was pulled off her face and she hissed at the sudden change, the feeling of going from pain to no pain somehow painful in and of itself. As she got used to the much darker surroundings, however, it was a marked improvement. But an improvement over shit was: Surprise! Still shit.
Her vision was blurred. Damage to her eyes, most likely. She realized that the stinging she was feeling there wasn't all to do with the constant light, but had more to do with the fact that her eyelids had shriveled and weren't completely closing unless she devoted a stronger effort to shutting them all the way. One of her cheeks felt painfully stiff as she opened her mouth slightly, the dry skin pulling painfully. And her lips... Oh, her lips were like the pith of an orange. Stringy, peeling, disgustingly flavourless but with a small tinge of juice -- in this case, blood. They hurt so much more than the rest of her face, which seemed insane, but was true.
She was like a god damned monster, and while she wasn't necessarily a creature of vanity, she was almost embarrassed to be seen like this.
Then she was reminded that whoever was speaking was involved in all of this shit, and the embarrassment fell away in favour of a deep simmer of rage. Let their goddamn stomachs turn. Let them have this face scarred upon them. She would never have to look at it, even if she lived. She'd shapeshift and even if she had to feel the pain of it, her eyes would never know the horror of looking at a monstrosity. So, suck on that.
The new voice, the blurry brown shape in front of her, made some comments that she couldn't care about right now, but then asked something about water. Water, yes, she could use water. Not use it, she needed it. She didn't know how many days she had been tortured, but they had never given her water, so she knew she needed it. Maybe it would give her the energy to say something outrageous or pithy.
"Y-yes," She rasped, her throat punishing her for daring to speak, silencing anything else she might have wanted to say.
Reported on Location by Violet Macar || Elias Harel
Post by Elias Harel on Jan 18, 2018 19:39:23 GMT -7
[googlefont=Montserrat]
[attr="class","mary"]
[attr="class","mary2"]
[attr="class","mary3"]THIS KINGDOM OF MINE,
[attr="class","mary4"]THIS GIFT FROM THE DIVINE
[attr="class","mary5"] There would be no water for the prisoner, not yet. Dehydration was a powerful motivator. At five percent loss of body water the subject would be dizzy, and tired. They would not have much concept of proprioception, and would not be capable of fighting back at any worthwhile level.
At ten percent came the mental deterioration, the loss of willpower. That was about where he would put their prisoner with the combination of the heat and her loss of blood, or at least close enough. They had five percent left before she would die, which meant they needed answers. If they were to dangle water in front of her, the potential for it, perhaps splash a drop near her foot, she would crumble. Elias had seen it happen time, and time again. They all crumbled.
Elias motioned to Arzuul, who did not nod but removed his hands from the prisoner's shoulders, and who turned to gather the two items they had brought down with them. A single glass with a chilling spell upon it, and a crystalline jug of cool water. The Black Cloak placed the items before Elias, and then returned to his looming position behind the prisoner. Then, Elias poured the glass, slowly, enjoying the way her body 'ticked' whenever a small splash graced her leg, her arm, or her cheek. It wasn't the tic of pain, it was the tic of desperation. He let the water run over the lip, overflowing onto the dark surface and reflecting her desperation.
Then, he set the glass at the centre of the desk. Even with the most flexibility in the world, the prisoner would not be able to reach it. She could not bend down and put her lips to it's chilled edge in an attempt to lap it. She could not maneuver her manacled hands to grasp it. It was a deal.
"The desert is a terrible place to be thirsty, you know," Elias chided, crossing his hands over his lap as he leaned into the comfort of his chair, "I know the feeling of it. Your tongue, it feels like chalk. The front of your temple hurts, doesn't it? More than any headache you've ever had? Your stomach is bubbling, that's the nausea. Some who get caught out there and feel what you're feeling don't die from the dehydration, they simply choke on their own sick. Neither is a very glamorous way to go. I suppose it's thankful for you, then, that you are not stranded, wandering the desert. You are in my palace, with a glass of water on my desk right in front of you.
"Fortunate as well that I am nothing if not hospitable. I believe our guests this evening would attest to that much. Unfortunate for you, that you are not my guest. I find no pretense to offer you hospitality.
"I am not cruel, Violet," His voice was darker then, using her name for the first time as if perhaps he was cursing it, "Not like my associates whom you have already met. I can be convinced to show you kindness, if you prove you can be worth the effort. Do you think that you could manage that?"
Post by Violet Macar on Jan 20, 2018 13:00:44 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
The man certainly spoke a lot, and as he spoke the more she realized exactly who she was dealing with. It wasn't that she recognized his voice -- she'd never heard him speak -- or his face, which she had never seen up close. It was his way. It was the fact that this man was so cruel whilst managing to sound reasonable.
Elias Harel made it seem like his Black Cloaks had not burned her beyond recognition. Elias Harel made it seem as though she had not been enchanted to give them information they desired. Elias Harel made it seem that perhaps he had not condoned the Black Cloak's treatment of her. Elias Harel liked to think of himself as a hero.
Violet knew better.
Elias Harel was a murderer, a kidnapper, a cannibal. He ate a centaur youngling for the Deity's sake. He was an evil man, and he was tempting her with that water while he made it sound like she had a chance to get it. And you know what? She most certainly did. Because he'd given her the one thing you should never give to a desperately clever woman: Hope.
The hope gave her adrenaline, which gave her energy, which gave her a little zing of magic, which made her wrist elastic. It stretched suddenly as he finished talking, snatching the glass off the desk with a snap and then shooting back towards her face. It remained elongated, the manacles holding her wrist to the chair but not the new length of arm growing from the wrist. That part of her was holding the glass to her lips, which shapeshifted into a straw-and-duckbill like form, something that suckled up the water more quickly that anyone could react with shock.
It was a success, even if it was short-lived. The man behind her grabbed those puckered, straw-lips and sealed them tight, breaking off the stream. He swiped the glass with his other hand, and then gripped her shapeshifted length of arm flesh and slammed it into the desk with a painful wallop. She cried out in pain, but hell: She'd won.
She shapeshifted back to herself, the exhaustion setting back in despite the cool relief of water. The water had brought her to fighting form word-wise, but she couldn't guarantee she'd have another useful pop! of magic. She could hope, but for now, she'd need to talk.
With her body reverted, the Black Cloak cautiously released her lips, pulling an impressively decorative blade and lingering it by her cheek, just within her peripheral villain. "Oh darling, what are you going to do, spoon my eyes out?" She teased, wondering if the man had ever played 'knifey-spooney'. He didn't get the joke, and instead moved threateningly, and so she cut him off before he could cut her-- "Ah ah ah! Look, I'm a... I'm uh, sorry, brain's still a tad foggy. I'm a deal-maker, love, and you seem like the type, as well. You'll have to think of a better offer than a murky cup of desert water if you'd like what I've got, hm? And trust me, dears! I've got the works. So make it worth my while."
Yes, there she was. Violet. All she needed was a kick in the pants, a sip of water, and a whole lotta rage that had been sizzling ever since she'd heard Nikolai's story that was ready to boil over.
Reported on Location by Violet Macar | Elias Harel
Post by Elias Harel on Jan 28, 2018 14:13:58 GMT -7
[googlefont=Montserrat]
[attr="class","mary"]
[attr="class","mary2"]
[attr="class","mary3"]THIS KINGDOM OF MINE,
[attr="class","mary4"]THIS GIFT FROM THE DIVINE
[attr="class","mary5"] Violet's movement and magic came as a shock to him, and Elias being shocked was a surprise in-and-of-itself. The woman had been tortured for hours, to the point where she could no longer recognize hours as anything but days. She was a husk of nothing, or at least... She was supposed to be. Instead, she had somehow gotten the energy to transmute, or shapeshift herself into some ridiculous form distant from human, and had stolen the glass.
It didn't really matter. It was annoying, yes, but it didn't really matter. Arzuul had already initiated a more stringent control as a reaction, and the woman had to know that she could never escape that way. He would wait for her to give him the answers. He would not give in. Then again, he only had so many hours before this woman would technically belong the SSPB, and he had hoped to be rid of her by then. Could she have sensed that? Or was this merely an insane woman's attempts at raising her life expectancy?
He thought then of Sabela, at how immediately she had been affected by the mysterious Doctor Thomas Dunn. He considered how weakened he had made one of the strongest people he had in his employ, and he knew that there was much he would trade for the specifics of the man. His location, where Elias could track him. His family, whom Elias was certain Arzuul would have plenty of ideas for. This woman did in fact have an impressive bargaining chip on her side if she was telling the truth, and Elias was prepared to answer that bargain.
"I suppose apologies are in order for underestimating your vigor, Violet," Elias steepled his hands and brought his chin to rest at their roof. His eyes narrowed at her, attempting to discern her reasons for being here this evening. Had she been here to investigate the Doctor? Or was she here to investigate him? What motives had driven her to risk the dangers of spying on Elias Harel and his Black Cloaks? In other words: What did she really want? "You will find I am quite fair. I am most prepared to give you your life, and even your freedom should the information you provide me be worthy."
Post by Violet Macar on Feb 5, 2018 7:58:45 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
Well hot diggity damn -- that had actually worked? Violet's eyes widened somewhat at Elias Harel's complacency, but she was quick to clear her throat and take on a guise of semi-seriousness. "Well, one of your people found it interesting, yes, and I assume that since I'm down here that you are quite certain it's worthy. It's precisely what you want, isn't it?"
Which left the question: What did she want? Freedom would be nice, yes. She'd like to not be tortured for longer, she'd like to not be put into a small cave of a room to die. She'd also like to not die in general. But freedom and not being tortured and not dying were not why she had come here. In fact, they were risks she had accepted in order to come here. Which meant that if she had taken all of this junk so far, and just up and left without anything to show for it? Well, it would have all been for nothing.
"I don't want my freedom, though. Not quite yet. I have other demands. Meet them, and I'll give you everything I have on a lot of things... But especially the one you really care about-- the Doctor?" Yes, she would get the information she came for, and ruin that bastard Tom at the same time. And then she would walk away skipping (all the way to a proper healer) and Tom would be the one in this chair. She wasn't one to condone torture, but she honestly wouldn't feel bad about Tom being on the receiving end.
[attr="class","mary5"] Elias could not help but scoff. Violet Macar was not merely strange, she was downright crazed. Or... Perhaps, just clueless. She did not immediately begin to barter for her freedom and her life, but instead insisted that she had something else worth trading her information for. Most Elias encountered knew that nothing could be worth so much as your freedom when you were in this room. Certainly not when you sat chained between Elias Harel and Arzuul Laritet. The woman, it was clear, knew nothing of him. He preferred it that way, he realized. It made him all the more powerful.
"Very well then, Violet," Elias nodded, pouring another glass of water, and nodding for Arzuul to hold it so that Violet could drink without any strange transformations, "Provide me with your first demand, and I shall give you my price."
Post by Violet Macar on May 6, 2018 7:07:58 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
Great. Perfect. Wonderful. He was listening. She was watering. This was a much better start than she'd gotten with the albino lamini lady.
Violet took her time with the water, taking careful, measured sips that were unlike her usual habits of messy consumption. She could tell that the harsh figure aiding her with the glass was annoyed at this, but she needed the extra time to think. Torture chair wasn't her ideal thinking place, and she needed to make sure she didn't mess this up.
When the glass was finished, she let out a satisfied, and heavily exaggerated sigh. Then, she made an attempt to lean back in the chair as if she were sitting in it for comfort.
"Alright then!" She finally exclaimed, still trying to buy precious seconds before: "First thing's first, I guess. The centaur you freakos ate tonight... Where'd you get them?"
Post by Elias Harel on May 12, 2018 12:08:38 GMT -7
[googlefont=Montserrat]
[attr="class","mary"]
[attr="class","mary2"]
[attr="class","mary3"]THIS KINGDOM OF MINE,
[attr="class","mary4"]THIS GIFT FROM THE DIVINE
[attr="class","mary5"] Elias met eyes with Arzuul at Violet's choice of question, the two exchanging a wordless comment. They were both clever men, and were quick to wonder if Violet Macar was currently showing her hand, or concealing it. Surely, the centaur was an obvious choice of 'scandal'. It was heavily distasteful outside of Muerte, and perfectly legal within Harel's sandy borders. Violet, Elias decided, was attempting to gauge his responses. This was a baseline test.
"Hm," He voiced, his pupils dilating briefly into crescents as he focused on the minutiae of Violet's form. Beads of sweat. Tensing and relaxing muscles. After a moment of what appeared to be thought, he acquiesced. His tone was dark and his teeth pointed into a smile as he made his offer, "Agreeable. For such information I would require a name. Not of the doctor, but of the child that attended my feast at his side. Detail her identity, and you shall know all you will."
Elias' demand was a test as much as he was assuming Violet's was. He wanted to know the morality of this Violet. Would she put a child in the potential crosshairs of a 'vile' man such as himself? What was this information worth to Violet Macar?
Post by Violet Macar on May 14, 2018 9:43:18 GMT -7
[attr="class","classicheader"]
[attr="class","classictitle"]
[attr="class","classictitle2"]
Violet almost relaxed as Elias agreed to her terms, then tensed again as he set his own, and then relaxed again as she thought it all over. Technically, Scarlet was not Scarlet. She was one of Tom's... Things. The same things she had once investigated, things of scientific control that the Artavian Government had tried to wipe from history... Not a child.
She tensed again, however, as she thought of Green, and wondered if it was even possible that every interaction Violet had ever had with the girl had been controlled by Tom. Surely most of them - but that day with Kikuriiku? That Green had been different, and at the time Violet had figured Kikuriku had urged little Greenie out of her shell. Or, she theorized that she herself had finally broken through the girl's mousey exterior, to a still mousey, but more excitable interior. Green couldn't just be a thing that Tom controlled. Violet couldn't buy that even magic was that strong, let alone Tom's medical wizardry. Which meant that Scarlet wasn't just a thing Tom controlled. Which meant she was a child.
Would Elias see it that way, though? Violet only had reasons to doubt it.
This all left her with a decision. Was learning about what happened to Nikolai's missing younglings, and ruining Tom, and gaining her freedom worth putting a child, a victim into potentially even greater harm?
Damn, She thought, This is what Tom wanted-- Isn't it?
Tom made a point of surrounding himself with good people. Innocent people. People that a woman of great moral standing like Violet herself could not help but avoid harming. Green was unendingly kind and devoted to doing all she could to help the people she loved; Zechariah was sweet, well-mannered, and unendingly curious in a way that tickled Violet; Scarlet was precocious and adorable and... Just a child.
Tom had so many shields. But if Violet wanted to get out of here... If she wanted to stop him... Would she not have to start blasting away at those shields?
"Her name... Is Scarlet," She finally said, her tone less jovial than before and her eyes casting down to an edge at the bottom of Elias' desk. There was a small spot there, a stain of some kind. Violet imagined it was blood, but couldn't be sure. Which likely meant it was blood. With a little hesitation, Violet continued, "She's not in control, though. You have to know that. She's not in control, none of them--" She bit her lip as that had fallen out of her. Too much information.
Her eyes traveled up to Elias, staring into the strangeness of his eyes, and she realized she needed to salvage her mistake before it was too late. A smile forced its way onto her lips as she wiggled her eyebrows and teased, "And that's! just a taste of what else I have. So-- About that centaur then?"
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.
