this is Salem, a land filled with magic and maladies. It is a place where witches and their elemental familiars gather, a home to legend and
lore that predates time itself. Yet of all the wicked and wonderful stories the past can tell us of, the most magical are the ones yet to happen.
This is Salem - this is the start of your very own journey. Welcome to starfall
Starfall is an animaga witch roleplay set in mostly modern times. Members play as witches in a world plagued by monsters, where the only safe spots are walled cities. Starfall strives to be a character-driven roleplay with expansive lore and a highly interactive plotline. We want to allow members to
create and look back on a magical journey, and mold the site and its plot as their characters grow.
Post by percival grayreme on Mar 27, 2018 3:46:58 GMT
Before going into this mission, Percy has made considerable research on Egyptian Mythology and how transfigurators thrive among it. The mission description also comes with an actual image of the pyramidion, and a blueprint of the museum. At least the Rashibi nobility is mindful enough to provide for the necessities of the mission. Percy and his companions for don't have to stumble blindly inside the museum looking for the pyramidion among the countless artifacts in the museum.
The House of Parvaneh is a grandiose museum in the City Center. It boasts a spacious lobby and a high ceiling with numerous chandeliers. Inside are numerous rooms housing an assortment of artifacts and documents, all laid out beneath glass cases and frames, or hung on walls or displayed in the open. The museum will be hosting a party later that evening, and Percy decides it would be the perfect opportunity to sneak through the guards and retrieve the artifact.
Dressed sharply in no less than long sleeves, coat, and black slacks, Percy waits outside a coffee shop. The museum on brightly lit at the distance. This is the assigned meeting place, communicated through SMS. He knows he is supposed to wait for two males named Ninos Knight and Desmond Grey. He had no idea what they looked like, but he assumes they would find each other.
Crime partners always do.
Percy summons Seraph then, and the mute swan appears in an explosion of white fluff, floating on a blob of water. "Keep an eye out for them," Percy says to his familiar, to which Seraph nods to, before disappearing inside the coffee shop and buying a drink. He figures out the trio might need some time planning out their escape plan.
notes // sorry for the delay!
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Shoot an apple off my head and a Trouble that can't be named A tiger's waiting to be tamed, singing Confusion that never stops The closing walls and the
Desmond was fairly notorious for letting disasters occur without any preventative intervention, despite claiming to have seen these events before they occurred. This habit had sewn a plethora of doubts regarding the authenticity of his abilities and his usefulness as a seer, thus earning him a notable amount of mistrust within well-known mercenary circles. But he didn't mind; the Silvertongue had never pretended to have an interest in the greater good, nor any love for his own coven.
On occasion, however, he encountered a series of events which would have been highly problematic to his personal interests if they were allowed to come to pass. The premonitions the seer had scried from tonight were one such example.
"Of course it had to be a warrior goddess..." Desmond annoyedly mutters under his breath. His hands lie in his jacket pockets, and his gaze settles on the imposing structure of the museum. He doesn't have a plan, exactly, but trusts (much to his own distaste) that fate, destiny, or whatever it was that controlled his divining sight had a plan for him, as long as he made the effort to look for it. The seer could only hope that this plan didn't involve utilizing him for the destruction of all humanity.
Lines and colors blur as Desmond allows his vision to become unfocused, inviting new and unnatural hues to seep into the shadows of his gaze. The front door, unsurprisingly, seems to absorb a menacing darkness, warding the seer away from that particular point of entrance. Regardless, his eyes remain open, scanning, until they find a meandering trail of cobblestones tinted gold.
The brown eyes refocus, and the gold fades. Following the yellow brick road around the back seemed a good a plan as any, so, after pulling a flask from his jacket and drowning a portion of its contents to let it burn his throat, he does exactly that.
[attr="class","inkpost"]ninos generally likes to say that he doesn’t do shady things, and that the most suspicious thing he has every done is sit out in an open field with a picnic basket and wait for cryptids ( that definitely do exist ) to make their appearance. but on occasion, despite his adamant denial, he finds himself drawn to activities a little less than completely legal. it’s not stealing, it’s retrieving. not like the museum is going to miss it, right? there are countless other priceless artefacts in there, they can afford to lose just one.[break][break]
there is some semblance of a plan in mind, a plan concocted on the premise of a single fact: that there is a party hosted tonight. rich people and their parties, huh. he dresses smart, in a suit more muted than his regular choices – the only thing that stands is tie boldly-patterned tie, but that is a problem easily solved. miro trots by his side, eyes bright and tongue lolling, complete with his own matching bowtie collar.[break][break]
the first thing to do: find his partners. he doesn’t know them. he doesn’t necessarily need to know them. he’ll find them, or they’ll find him, or he’ll just stroll into the party later and have a good time anyway. who knows.[break][break]
he finds his way to a coffee shop some distance away from the museum, allegedly the designated meeting place. he can’t see anyone outside as of yet, but he does spot a swan, elegant and poised. miro pricks up his ears, curious.[break][break]
“good evening,” ninos offers the swan, nodding by way of greeting. he hopes that lady luck has smiled upon him, and that this is perhaps connected to his mission partners and not someone else’s innocent, unsuspecting familiar. [break][break]
Post by percival grayreme on Sept 25, 2018 17:15:13 GMT
Percy is unfamiliar with the menu, so he spends exactly three minutes scouring over the beverages trying to figure out what to order. In the end, after much internal debate, he opts or chocolate pudding milk tea. Yeah, way to ruin the image of an aristocrat he is supposed to be aiming for. He has just paid for the drink when Seraph speaks in his mind. A man just arrived, and if she is right, he is one of the team.
Outside, Seraph has bobbed her head in acknowledgement, but doesn't say anything. However she is very cautious of the dog familiar, and if the dog would scoot and sniff at her she would simply float away in her little blob of water. Upon Percy's instructions, she steps aside and points her beak to the figure of Percy sitting on one of the numerous sofas. Percy is looking at them, and if the man would meet his eye, he would wave and motion him to come inside. Have a drink. The cafe offers coffee, milk tea, iced tea, name it. Perhaps he would like one.
"Hello," Percy would say. He smiles and put his chin on one hand. "Ahh, we got a busy night ahead. I mean, we're attending a prestigious gathering. We're running late so I do hope our friend would show up, like, right now." Seraph has stayed outside, still on the lookout for the last member, but she hasn't said anything so far. Strange.
Ten the bartender calls his name out loud. "Percy?" the lady calls, and the brunette raises his hand and approached the counter. "Would you like a drink?" he asks the man. "They have quite a varied menu."
notes // NOTES HERE
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Shoot an apple off my head and a Trouble that can't be named A tiger's waiting to be tamed, singing Confusion that never stops The closing walls and the
Unfortunately for Percy, Desmond had no intention of meeting up with the rest of his mission partners prior to the mission itself. He knew that would be the first step to destruction. Granted, he wasn't entirely sure what the path to the absence of destruction was but... he was working on it.
The back of the museum wasn't anything particularly special. It seemed to be where all the garbage from nearby business that the museum owners didn't want laying around their otherwise clean building was placed for periodic removal. There didn't seem to be a door, though. Had he walked too far? Out of sight from the crowds, he searches around freely, but doesn't find anything particularly promising until he looks up. "Ah..." At the top of the second floor -- or maybe the bottom of the third? -- some sort of air vent was built into the wall. Just to be sure, he looks at the vent through the vision of a Guide, and its golden hue affirms his suspicions.
"Grendel--" though it was only a nickname, the oversized tarantula familiar appears as soon as he's summoned by the seer, "Help me find some rope... or a ladder." He doesn't bother saying asking the grotesque spider nicely, and immediately begins searching himself instead of humoring questions. Desmond didn't enjoy working with his familiar, and didn't pretend to feel otherwise. However, he couldn't ignore the fact that Grendel had his uses, like scaling walls. All they needed was something for their mission partners to be able to follow.
"S-sir... would moving those crates be acceptable?" the spider whispers.
Desmond eyes the corner of the alley that Grendel was pointing to with one of his spindly legs. "... Only if you're able to move them quietly."
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