Medieval Fantasy RPG
Now forming, by request.
Date: April 11, 2011
Categories: RRRs, RPWs, and RPGs
Friday, 1 December 2023
Life, the universe, pies, hot-pink bunnies, world domination, and everything
oh yessssss~
How do we want to design this?
Yay thank you so so much! *bows in awe*
If I may suggest England as a possibility for the place where our fair story takes place. Should we have magic, magic artifacts, both, NPCs with magic, given powers, things through which magic should be channeled, and if so, what are the limits and the system? Or are we just going to have our characters go on adventures, without actually having any magic? Or no magic at all?
(apologies for the unstructured-ness of that post.)
YESSSSSS!!!!!!!! THANK YOU GAPAs!!!!!!!!!
I vote, since this is a fantasy RPG, we have magic, but limited, and only medieval weapons, like bows and swords, but you cannot be amazing at fighting and magic, you have to have some control. In my opinion, magic of all sorts is a must for this sort of thing
Medieval England sounds like a great place to start.
I would also vote for different humanoid races, i.e. elf, dwarf, orc, urgal, hobbit, dragon (though probably only as NPC), etc. I would vote that PCs can only be humanoid, but NPCs can be whatever.
Also, we need an adventure. Something like an evil necromancer trying to take over the world with undead. Or a society of wizards form a golem that accidently escapes. Or an invading nation tries to take over the fair land of ______ . Or something else. Any other suggestions?
This is going to be epic
This is something that I may be interested in. And KA, maybe PC’s should be able to be non-humanoids. Not Macs, however. Just PC’s. (Ha! Ha! Ha! Sorry.) Seriously, though, elves or dwarves could be cool. Let’s not steal from Eragon, however (i.e. Urgals, shades, etc.).
That all sounds good. And to be honest, I only added Urgals because I thought I took to much from LOTR.
Oddly one can never steal enough from LOTR
This sounds like all sorts of fun!
I think we should start with a loose outline of what to do and details on the world, and take it from there.
Possible locations: England, more generic Fantasyland. (What era England? It could be all sorts of fun to do Arthurian adventures, and it would also be fun to do something else.)
Magic: I think we definitely want at least some magic, but it’s more a question of how much. We could do anything from LotR-ish style to magic everywhere.
Beings: Humans, elf, dwarf, orc, hobbit, dragon,
I’m leaning a bit towards more magic, although probably not too much. Also, I think that fairies of some sort would be very fun to add to the list of beings. Maybe small, mischievous ones?
((I would definitely be interested in joining this.))
Just FYI, you don’t need (()) until the action starts
Fun!!!!
In terms of location, I would vote for Fantasyland, since you can mold that to your needs more than you can with a real country.
I’m totally for magic, my only question being how it is manifested: wands, hand gestures, words…? I would probably go for a combination of hand gestures and words. I will agree with Errata that there should be magic limits.
Time period…how’s about 12, 1300?
This looks awesome! I wanna join!
I vote Medieval England, that sounds about right. And magic with words or gestures. Wands seems to be pushing it a little bit. What would the plot be like?
I vote Fantasyland; typical medieval setting – but we can mold it to our liking.
The way people are talking, I’m seeing it as a bit like a setting of DnD – very little modern technology if there even is any, nonmechanical weapons, but magic prevails.
I think Bending (A:tLA) could work, as it’s a sort of wandless magic? Bending the elements and controlling them. I’d also like spells to work. We could possibly combine those two and keep them in the story, with you either having one or the other and not everyone has some sort of magic? Lower-class people are more likely to be able to Bend, while higher-class people are more likely to be able to use spells (word-controlled magic).
Races: traditional fantasy RPG?
Elf (subraces: wood elf, city elf, dark elf?), Human, Half-Elf, Troll, Pixies, Faeries
We could also add things like half-elves or half-orcs. As for magic, I vote a combination of words, hand gestures, and sometime possibly a material component, i.e. a magic mirror, diamond dust, a potion that has to be drunk while casting the spell.
I think that FantasyLand would be good, but we should give it a more formal name before the RPG actually starts. That way we don’t have to constrain ourselves to real places.
Maybe some people can use magic, and others can use weapons? Should we go totally D&D and have races and classes (e.g. dwarven knight, elf ranger, human magician, half-elf thief)?
I wouldn’t be opposed to that, though upon reading the stuff people responded with when I suggested the D&D RPG on the suggestion box, someone said that we can’t because of something about copyright infringement.
I like the some magic and some weapons idea, that would be a good way of limiting abilities, although I think there should be a happy medium where you are OK at both but good at neither.
I like the ideas of words and gestures, and KA’s ideas for materials sounds good as well. I’d rather not use Bending, since that is less of a universal fantasy concept, but spells that manipulate the elements would be fine with me.
Also magic items. Crystal balls, maybe, magic mirrors, lucky charms… As long as they aren’t too powerful.
I’m against the idea of classes, not so much for copyright reasons, but just because I’d prefer that this be a bit more original than that.
I don’t have much time to post now, so I’m just gonna say that I’d love to join this.
I’d like to join this, I’ve never done a RPG before, are there any basic rules (or stuff) I need to know? Is there a way that someone could either turn into animals or have an animal pet?
Basic rules for RPG:
> Write it in first person narrative, use quotation marks, etc. Basically, write as if you were writing a story, only you’re just writing down the things that you’re doing.
> Enclose all non-story stuff in double parentheses.
> If your character’s name is not the same as your screenname, or if you have multiple characters, it is helpful to put the name of the character whose view you are posting from above the post (in caps).
Example:
KITTYMINE
I couldn’t believe this was happening……
As for your last two questions, a character could definitely have a pet. I’m not sure about the turning into an animal bit, for this thread at least, because that depends on how we define magic use for this particular RPG. It’s not out of the question, however.
@12. The concept of Bending, however, might be used in a way so that it’s not so much Bending but magic? If it’s an old and foreign type of magic, hopefully we can limit access to it, and carry some of the context into wordless spells – as it is essentially manipulating the elements (or even only one) with body gestures, after all.
@10a. I don’t think we need items – it would just weigh down the spellcasters. If we go with my above idea, which is element manipulation using body motion, controlling water and earth would require the substance to already be there! Perhaps non-magicals use items to simulate magic or similar?
@10b. Yeah – it lets us exercise more freedom with our setting and whatever. How about…Arcadia?
@14. Likely not for turning into animals, but they could have a Familiar!
Whoa, where did the name Arcadia come from? It’s the name of a flammy sounding play I’m seeing next week.
/Randomintervention
Arcadia is a RL place, but in European Renaissance arts, Arcadia was regarded as an “unspoiled, harmonious wilderness.”
Besides, it sounds nice.
Many of those images also include a tombstone inscribed in Latin, “Et in Arcadia Ego”: even in Arcadia, I [death] [am there].
All I can think of when I see that is Joan of Arcadia.
Summary of what we have so far. Remember that none of this is set in stone and all can be changed
Magic: Verbal and somatic components, possibly material, though it’s looking like maybe not. Elemental control, and shielding spells or telekinesis, etc.
Fighting: You can either be good at magic or weapon, or have a happy medium or something in between there. You cannot be good at both.
Weapons: Medieval style bows and swords possibly more exotic weapons from other countries.
Location: FantasyLand or Medieval England, still undecided.
Characters: Pretty much any race, and they need limits on magical/fighting power.
All this is subject to change, but after that we just need characters and a plot, I think.
What if we had each sort of magic (hand gestures & words, bending, items (infusing items with power and then using them, i.e. runes, is another possibility), I’m probably missing one) be a specialized version of magic? That way, we could have separate things, but no one would really be too powerful.
I am also against classes; they’re rather unoriginal.
Yeah, FantasyLand sounds good. Arcadia? Maybe.
I’m going to be making my characters now, (one for each of us) as I’m going to be gone for almost a week and I don’t really want to wait. I’ll make any necessary changes when I get back.
Name: Aramil
Race: Elf
Magic: Above average magical abilities, especially over the elements and nature
Fighting: Uses a bow that he is not very good at, but still might be able to stick a shot or two in a pinch
Personality: Aramil is outgoing and not afraid of a fight, but will take the opportunity to prepare and plan if offered it. He is not afraid to take risks but doesn’t think of himself as reckless, only bold. He likes spending time communing with nature, and does not like any of the “city-dwellers”.
Appearance: Short brown hair, about 5′ 3” and tanned but not dark skin. Rugged eyes and hands suggest a hard forest life, and he commonly wears camouflage clothing, sometimes even leather spread with grass.
Other Character
Name: Erasmo
Race: Gnome
Fighting: Wields a dagger, usually coated in a venom of some sort, that he uses in combonation with his stealthy skills to suprise the enemy where they least expect it.
Magic: Almost nothing, but can pull out a small illusion in a predicament.
Personality: He has an erratic personality that seems to change day to day. He can be talkative and silver-tounged when he wants to, but is normally aloof, standing in one corner with a dark hood over his face, seeming to be socially invisible.
Description: He wears a small black cloak with workable, tough yet movable pants and a small tunic. He comes up to about the chest of a normal human. He is lithe and skinny, and seems to carry with him nothing, but many small daggers are hidden within the folds of his cloak, and beneath his cloak he carries two opaque, undistinguishable flasks. He always seems to know which is the poison and which is his drinking kit. He is also secretly terrified of being snuck up upon, and as such is a bit paranoid.
They scored OK on mary sue
Name: Esgalanu
Race: Dark elf (if there is no dark elves, just elf)
Weaponry: Good archer
Magic: None
Personality: Quiet, introverted, and secretive.
Appearance: Black/dark greenish clothes. 5’0″. Thin.
SFTDP
AND purple eyes. Because.
AND plays flute.
Summary of Plot Ideas:
1> An evil necromancer trying to take over the world with undead.
2> A society of wizards form a golem that accidently escapes.
3> An invading nation tries to take over the fair land of _______ (Arcadia?)
4> Arthurian adventures
I’ve also thought up a few other possible plot ideas. What do you all think?
5> Evil enchanter who is slowly moving from province to province, city to city, trying to control all of the leaders to create an empire with himself as monarchical dictator.
6> In ancient times, the different races had created a spell that united them all, enabling them to pool all of their magical power (and other capabilities) to fight off a nation threatening to control their country. The descendant(s) of the original sorcerer who cast the spell would like to renew the spell (using the residual) and take all of the power of the races for en-self / themselves. But to do that, they need to get enough representatives of each race…
7> Something along the lines of the War of the Roses, but adapted to include a variety of races + magic.
I vote for #3 – that way we can have two different sides.
But I also vote for #6! If you can make it less confusing, that is.
I’m not sure if we can do anything with large-scale invasions/armies/battles, simply because the roles of our characters wouldn’t have much of an effect. I mean, what difference can less than 20 people make?
Having said that, all of the ideas are good. I would like to propose another. I’m not sure about this one, but I thought I’d put it up just to see responses.
8> In a world where races mostly keep to themselves, a team with young representatives from every group is made to fight evil and whatnot as well as to keep the races from warring.
The smallest grain of rice may tip the scale
I would vote for plot #1.
I vote #1 also.
((Cool! Character bio’s! I like Idea #1 best.))
Name: Aria Erowyn
Race: Human
Age: 17
Weaponry: She has mastered the rapier and is a skilled sword fighter. Also carried a dagger, shaped and sheathed like a pair of bodice scissors.
Magic: None
Personality: Aria is bold, clever and fierce when necessary. She bonds well with other people, and is quite outgoing, but keeps within a small circle of companions and keeps her secrets to herself. She is very curious and easily persuaded into new adventure. She enjoys sneaking off by herself for target practice in the outskirts of town and in the forest.
Appearance: She has dancing blue eyes, and is of medium height and stature. She has slender fingers and strong arms, good for combat. Her hair is auburn and she keeps it tied out of her face when possible, usually in a bun. About town, she normally wears a maroon kirtle and white chemise, but when hunting or sword fighting she wear a forest green tunic, wool pants and black leather boots, with her weaponry on a gold-studded belt about her waist (all taken from her father’s wardrobe, though he never would have noticed anyhow).
Background: Her mother is a seamstress, one of the few in town and very popular among the nobles, although she caters to serfs as well. She works a great deal of the time and Aria is left at home. This makes it quite easy for Aria to steal looser, male clothes and to leave home for target practice and for exploring the woods. Her father, to put it simply, does very little. He is a drunkard, and is rarely home. It’s sometimes even hard to remember that he lives in the same cottage with Aria and her mother. Her very close friend, Marcus, taught her how to sword fight, but he was murdered a few years back by a wizard who has remained unnamed and uncaptured ever since. The bodice scissor dagger is his,and he had given it to her for practice shortly before he was killed.
Joining joining joining!
Name: Abellana Rovaviemi (Abellana apparantly means hazelnut/filbert, oh well)
Race: Human magician
Magic: Makes trinkets and objects for magic, knows a small bit of fire magic (just making little flames- think of her right index finger as a cigarette lighter). Mostly charms and curses, but a few spells.
Fighting ability: To make up for her lesser magic ability she can fight pretty well, her specialty being hand to hand combat. She doesn’t like using weapons that aren’t close to her body.
Personality: She tries to prove she’s just as good as those with tons and tons of magic, which could be interpereted as a bit of an inferiority complex? She’s a little awkward socially but tries to be all smiles. At times she’s a little reckless, but usually is wary of others. If need even if they’re not always true. She tries to be a backbone for others and doesn’t like telling about her problems. If need comes she’ll be calm and cool. She’s very clever with her hands and is always tinkering around, being a mechanic and inventor at heart. She holds two philosophies: if it looks easy to fix she will, but if she can’t it’ll fix it itself.
Looks: Dark red hair, wavy, held back in a ponytail. Royal blue eyes. Average height. Sometimes requires glasses.
Other: Is semi-literate. Is a bit of a jack-of-all-trades. Has a slight smoking problem. Doesn’t get enough sleep and is prone to falling asleep over whatever she was doing.
kay?
CHARACTER
Name: Lanying Zai-Lin – ‘Ying’ or ‘Lan’ for short
Race: Human, but part troll on her great-great-great grandmother’s side.
Age: 15
Fighting: Wields. Um. Let’s get back to you on this one, okay? Ying is pretty good at fire-wielding, but she has no clue on how to use a weapon..
Magic: Because Fire-controlling magic is the only type of magic that will let you create an element, really, she just uses fire. BURNING THINGS IS FUN AND USEFUL! Interpreted through a sane mind:
Lanying likes fire. She’s not very good at shaping it, but as other Fire-‘benders’ can, she can both manipulate already-existing fire and create it.
Personality: Ying is a bit of a cloudcuckoolander, really. She daydreams, and she really doesn’t seem to pay attention or live in the same world as most people do, but she is a rather good fighter…if she pays attention to strategy instead of emotions. Which never happens.
Really, it’s a surprise she’s even allowed to fight – she often injures others in the crossfire. Fire is supposed to be controllable – but Lanying doesn’t often seem to be able to do so…she puts a lot of power into everything, and it only hurts people. And she never seems to notice. “Walk it off~” she laughs, dismissing your bleeding and burnt arm; and she proceeds to play with her fire until she gains another few burns. She doesn’t live in the same reality as everyone else – for her, consequences don’t exist…
Clothing: Wears a light gray tunic, short-sleeved, that reaches to her knees (and has slits from there to her waist on the sides so she can move around). The tunic has some orange embroidery on the back in the shape of a flame and a wolf with its’ body curved around the flame.
Under this she wears a pair of dark orange baggy pants that reach slightly below her knees, and she also wears a pair of cloth boots with a bit of thin metal curved over the heel and toe.
She wears a loop of silver stretchy cloth as a belt.
Lan has short dark brown hair, looking like she cut it off with a knife; that ends at her shoulders. It’s usually kept in a pair of twin braids. She has tanned skin, amber eyes (from troll ancestry), and a lot of burn scars all over her body! Seriously, it’s a little ridiculous how many burn scars she has. They mostly concentrate around her lower arms and legs, but there’s one long scar that covers part of her upper lip and the skin above.
Background: Lanying Zai-Lin is the daughter of an influential nobleman, and unfortunately, it went to her head. After a few incidents involving teachers, Lan decided she could play with fire just fine…
She couldn’t. It ended up with a team of healers frantically attempting to save her life, and while she recovered, she was never the same. The once focused and dedicated girl had changed to be a bit ditzy, less connected to anything and anyone, but decidedly more dangerous. After another few incidents involving burning people, it ended up just being safer to send her into the military as one of the shock troops!
Notes: Could very possibly learn Air magic, but she focuses on elemental magic, powered by physical moves. If a punch sends off a fireball, why not punch all the time? She has little tolerance for the tricks and glamour of word magic – it’s one of the few things that can actually get Lanying visibly angry.
——-
oh Celestia what did I just write
Name: Aleina (Alee (not the same as Ali; uh-lee) for short)
Race: Half-elf
Fighting: Reasonably good at fighting with a broadsword; Alee can’t, however, do anything to do with magic, and if she is within an arm’s length of someone who is attempting to cast a spell, rest assured that she will screw it up. Not anything too special–just a general tendency to trip, fall, drop things, sneeze, crash into people, and cause other feats of destruction when around magic. it makes her eyes water.
Personality: Once you get to know her she’s basically an easy-going, friendly person. Her only problem is that she mistrusts people enormously at first, and she guards her secrets with dragons. She has a hard time knowing who is really her friend, and so she’ll tend to be rude or quiet. If she trusts someone, though, she’s fairly nice.
Appearance: She has goldish hair, which she wears in a loose braid down her back, and deep brown eyes, freckles, and a round face. She pronounces her As as Is and her Is as Es. She lived in a distant country when she was a small girl; thus, her accent.
Nice character bios!
I am personally in favor of option 1 or 5.
(( Name: Aleria Everhart
Race: Magican/ Enchantress/ whatever we’re calling them.
Age: 12
Apperance: Short, silver-y blond hair, bright blue eyes, wear hair braided/twisted.
Magic/Fighting: Spells and curses, knows a few charms, okay at fighting, can throw a punch but can’t control a sword.
Personality: Shy, doesn’t talk much.
ETC: Loves horses, bacon, basketball, art, writing, and reading. Has special necklace with emralds and sapphires passed down from her grandmother.
( I was thinking about having 2, so please let me know. )
(( We like, 1, 3, 5, and 6th one.))
(( Okay, I can have 2.
Name: Fedora Loyith
Age:13
Race: Half-elf
Fighting: Good with a a bow and arrows, mild with a sword.
Magic: No magic. Mostly, no fire magic for Fedora.
Personality: Talks a lot, love to sing, act, etc. Know French and speaks with a french accent. ( Je suis un pamplemousse? )
Apperance: Strawberry-blond hair with green eyes, average height, skinny.
ETC: Loves hats.
((I want one!
Name:Queta (I know that it sound Spanish.)Her Last name is unknown
Race: Full elf (Not the short kind. Lord of the Rings kind.)
Appearance: Really tall, thin, black hair with silver blond streaks, sea green eyes.
Fighting: Can kill with a bow and arrow, sword, dagger, or spear.
Magic: Can heal anything.
Personality: Kind of hostile, shy, and very sneaky
ETC: Loves owls, bacon, writing, reading, art, and building sculptures. Has ruby, onix, and crystal necklace.
I also want another character and like 1,3,5 and 6.))
[Seems a bit overpowered. Could you tone it down a bit?
1. What’s her background? Is she just a person?
2. Why does she have streaked hair? Bit too crazy.
3. You can’t be great at magic and fighting! And can she heal missing limbs? Look, either she’s a good healer and is moderately decent at one weapon, or she’s good at two weapons and can only heal very mild things – small wounds.]
Name: Gemina
Race: Half-elf but raised by elves
Appearance: Tall and thin but very strong. Long brown hair, hazel/green eyes. Quite beautiful.
Fighting: Excellent with a bow and arrow and a sword.
Magic: Can manipulate the weather to a great extent but it tires her.
Personailty: Quiet and not good at making friends, but efficient and resourceful. She’s lonely and doesn’t have a lot of self-confidence but is very good at hiding it.
*Possible character*
Name: Lysander (but she’s a girl)
Race: Human with some elf mixed in somewhere. She’s an orphan.
Appearance: Dark hair, sallow skin, and dark blue eyes. Stockier than elves. Slender but very strong.
Fighting: She’s an assassin, so she can use any weapon well.
Magic: None except for better reflexes and heightened awareness of her surroundings.
Personality: Cold. If there’s any kind of rebel side, she’s on it. Loyal without any real emotional attachment. Looking for something, but she doesn’t know what it is. She’s very sad, she just doesn’t know it.
Okay, character…
Name: Not sure yet
Race: Human
Age: 18
Appearance: short blonde hair, green-blue eyes, 5’10, wears mostly black/dark green clothes.
Fighting: Good with a Flyssa, okay at hand to hand combat, hopeless with a bow. Has a bonded wolf that fights(but only used occasionally)
Magic: Just enough to sense the emotions/thoughts of wolf, nothing else.
Personality: Shy, lurks in corners a lot, will do things when asked, not much more unless others agree.
etc.: likes animals of all kinds, reading, and practicing fighting.
((I like numbers 8 and 1))
Name: Chæn
Race: Human
Age: Uncertain; appears either young (around 20) or old (early 90’s)
Appearance: Uncertain; when young, short brown hair and average build; when old, silver hair, moustache, long beard; wears a gray hooded cloak, leather boots, queer amulet on chain around neck; holds a staff and carries a gittern across his back
Fighting: None
Magic: Uncertain
Personality: Uncertain; appears apparently at random, speaks indirectly; depending on who you ask, is either insane or possessed or drunk or monastical
Misc.: Inactive character, may drop in from time to time, but don’t count on it
Name: Re-nier Alesund
Age: 16 but looks somewhat younger
Race: Human
Looks: Curly blond hair, blue eyes, glasses. Wears longish tunics or dresses with pants underneath, mostly in the blue/purple color range. Often doesn’t wear shoes.
Skills: Decent with a few kinds of magic, completely hopeless with non-magical weapons. Also knows a bit about herbs.
Personality: Quiet, sociallly awkward. Is a pacifist who avoids fighting if at all possible. Is also mostly a vegetarian, supposedly because she cares about animals but really because she’s a terrible hunter. Has a somewhat irrational dislike of elves because her family was supposedly cursed by one decades ago.
Another plot idea: An ancient prophecy told of a boy who would rise to power and make a final choice between good and evil. Too bad he chose evil, and a Ragtag Bunch Of Misfits has to stop his evilness despite their failure being foretold in a second prophecy.
Oh, by the way, when I say magician I’m taking it from the Enchanted Forest Chronicles. Like, they’re scientists/inventors with magic… sort of? Think eccentric shopkeeper?
We need more boys.
(( Okay, character change!
Name: Quili
Race: Elf
Appearance: 5’6, black hair, thin, sea green eyes
Fighting: Awesome with a bow and arrow, needs to practice with a sword, though…
Magic: Can heal minor injuries.
Personality: Shy, calm, and sneaky.
Background: Both parents are dead due to an forest fire when the family was hunting in the woods.
I forgot, she’s 12.
I also like number 8 and still am waiting to know if I can make a second character!!!! ^_^
((As long as it’s not a girl…at any rate, I think it’d be best to wait and see how many people actually actively participate and if we need more characters, then you could make one. But right now I wouldn’t count on it.))
OOH OOH! Pick me! Pick me!
This is soooooo cool, and I’m glad I noticed it as I was about to suggest jousting as the Homecoming game for Demigod RPG, but here we can joust all we want.
Three things though:
Are the divine based classes of DnD, i.e. cleric, paladin, avenger, monk, etc., allowed? Granted, I understand one will not note themselves as a specific class, but do one’s magical abilities strictly come from the arcane?
Secondly, are we supposed to be borderline novices in our craft or can one’s character have just slain their14th high dragon?
And thirdly, are halflings/hobbits still on the table? They have yet to be mentioned, which is depressing given how AWESOME they are.
Please respond quickly as I can’t wait to make a character.
In answer to your questions:
> I believe that the class system of DnD has been ruled out.
> I haven’t the foggiest about whether magical abilities are strictly from the arcane. I would suspect not, but I could be wrong.
> You can be a borderline novice if you want, but it’s totally cool if you’re more of an expert.
> I believe hobbits are on the table, and they were mentioned (see post 3)
Top Plot Idea
1> An evil necromancer trying to take over the world with undead.
Number of characters
13.5
Just an FYI
Thank you!
You are ever so welcome.
((SFTDP and for the PoPo))
CHARACTER
Name: Christopher
Age: 18
Race: Human
Appearance: tall, oval face, blue eyes, straight dark brown hair that comes to his chin, slender but strong.
Personality: He’s generally serious yet optimistic, with a decent sense of humor. Has his head screwed on – practical, has common sense, and is calm in a crisis, which is good because he’s a…
Magic: …healer.
Fighting: Carries a knife for self-defense, but can’t really fight. He’s more the sidelines-lets-heal-the-soldiers type.
Clothes: Wears a navy blue tunic with the royal crest stamped in silver on the top right, matching navy breeches, white hose, and navy shoes. This is because…
Backstory:…he’s the manservant of Prince Devin, of the Wesly royal family. Devin is 15, a brat, and a generally Malfoy like character (wimp part included). Devin is also a drowner.
I like the “evil necromancer” idea too. Zombie apocalypse!
So how should our characters all meet up?
((The evil necromancers taking over the world idea is good. Can there also be political unrest? As in old monarchies or governments are failing and different factions (including the necromancers, who are strongest) are fighting with each other? That way there can be more of a plot and more opportunities for different characters to be involved.))
(( I like that plan. God, I sound like Chuck E. Cheese. ))
((Thank you Kittymine!))
((Name: Ser Walter, a High Constable of the Knights of Ardor
Race: Human
Appearance: Sandy blonde hair spiked in the front, but clean toward the back with side burns to frame his face ending just above the hinge of his jaw. Large dull hazel eyes. Powerfully built
Fighting: Well trained in two handed weaponry with a preference toward great swords. Decent on a horse though feels obligated to dismount in the presence of opponents on foot
Magic: Imbued by his faith in Zealastre, deity of valor and patron god of humans, he is gifted in antimagic talents varying from the ability to cleanse areas of arcane powers, silencing his opponents, inflicting pain on those with magical abilities, and channeling lightning through his sword.
Personality: Generally good natured and bold almost to a fault, Walter follows a strict moral compass set forth by the Knights of Ardor:
All magic users are abominations before the might of Zealastre and those unwilling to submit to the deity are to be detained or eradicated. The corruption that magic represents was brought into the world by the lesser races: elves, dwarves, fairies, orcs, etc., and in order to attain the empire prepared for homo sapien by their grand patron, these beings must be brought into submission.
Walter is driven to protect the less fortunate and will always uphold a bargain or repay a debt. ))
((Can I start? I was going to have Walter lead his company into a town of some sort. Is Daggerford a good name for a home base?))
((Think Captain Hammer from Dr. Horrible’s Sing Along Blog))
((Excellent. I have an enemy. ))
((The vileness of your parentage should not force you to choose the wrong side. Repent. His Magnificence is most benevolent. Perhaps He will look upon you with generosity, or at least spare the portion of you that is worthy.))
((This is going to be SO MUCH FUN.))
[ooh, can Lanying Zai-Lin be a member of his company? She pretty much got shipped off to the military because a girl who likes fire, is good with fire, and doesn’t seem to have restraints or the ability to pay attention is rather dangerous.
But she likes to fight.
It’d be fun to see how she ends up just carrying around a bunch of lighters all the time (or firestarters) to have an excuse for her firebending, since Ying knows that Mr. Walter doesn’t like magic. Well, she’ll submit, but all she really wants to do is go out and fight! It’s fun~ ]
((Hmm, my interest is peaked, but I would prefer that my company is fully aware of her abilities rather than assuming that she is just gifted at burning things. The Knights of Ardor are valiantly inspired bigots, but they are not fools.
Lanying Zai-Lin would have to always be in the company of a handler and also have a tattoo across her mouth so that the world would know that corruption may still pour from her lips.
Is that okay?))
[Sounds good, Bismark! If you post first, perhaps I can post second.]
Name: Ianthe Aradel Nobleoak
Race: Mostly human, but she has a few elves, at least one hobbit, and possibly a gnome in her family tree.
Appearance: Blue eyes with brown flecks. Coppery-brown hair, usually in a single braid down her back. Dresses in the simplest clothes she can get away with, usually an embroidered tunic and loose leggings.
Weapons: Has quite a bit of practice with a cutlass, but no formal training so she’s not that great. Can also through knives decently.
Magic: She has an extremely good education in the theory of magic, and a wide repertoire of spells. Unfortunately, her magic won’t be that useful in any everyday situation, and she doesn’t have much practice at any of it. She’s busy teaching herself several useful, common spells. Otherwise, she specializes in air and water spells.
Personality: Has great faith in her own abilities. She doesn’t realize that she isn’t quite as great at everything as she thinks she is, and sometimes gets into trouble because of it.
Items: Her cutlass, usually hidden but always with her, various throwing knives, also hidden, some enchanted, a silver circlet that shows she’s noble, and a necklace passed down from her grandmother with a circle of copper engraved with a flame and a uncut red gem hanging from it.
Background:
She’s from a noble family, but that does not mean she’s weak. She ran away when she was fourteen, (they were telling her to ‘grow up’ and ‘stop pretending to be a hero’) and even though her parents quickly found her quickly, she convinced them to let her continue with her studies in magic and other useful skills for adventurers instead of becoming a lady. But now, as her sixteenth birthday approaches, they’ve started pressuring her again, and she’s already planning her next escape.
Can what through knives? Chew through knives? See through knives? Push a pencil through knives?
See, of course.
Yeah, that’s what I get for trying to write a long post late at night.
((I’m starting~ by the way, her map is engineered to show places of relevance and move with her. Like a GPS on paper and less stupid!))
Towns, Abellana thought, are always a risk. A necessary risk, of course, but they still are one.
Leaning forward she patted her horse’s neck (just a bit more luv, there we go it’s not too far more) and continued on to Daggerford. It was a relatively unknown town, barely visible on her map, and she thought she hadn’t thought she would come there so she hadn’t asked anyone in Apatity if it was friendly or not.
Well, I don’t have to try and set up shop. I can always just reload for until I get to Stockton, that’s always nice to magic-users…
No. I don’t have enough money. I’ll have to sell.
With great reluctance, Abellana stopped in the town square, stabled her horse and cart, and entered the inn.
“What brings you to Daggerford?” the innkeeper, a genial-looking old woman with grey hair in a bun, asked.
Abellana gave a nervous little laugh, a hand coming up to scratch at the back of her neck. “Ahhh, just needed a place to stop to sell my wares.”
The innkeeper clapped her hands. “Lovely! It’s always nice when we get merchants. What do you sell?”
“Trinkets, nothing special,” Abellana answered cautiously, testing waters. “Are there any magic-users in this town?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed eversoslightly. “Well, if there are any left I’d imagine they’re getting ready to leave. Either that or they’re extremely foolish.”
“Excuse me?”
She scoffed before her face lit up. “There has been a new religion that has come to our town, and the preacher speaks most wisely! He tells of a god, the Exiled Zealastre, and how He created the world to be a paradise for humans! But, lesser beasts” (she crinkled her nose here) “came and polluted the world. The movement is rallying the people to destroy these inferior invaders and take back our land!”
Abellana inwardly sighed. “I take it these ‘invaders’ are the magical races?”
“Yes, and anyone who dabbles in those wicked, wicked arts! Those nasty pointy-ears and short-things must be eradicated or at least confined, but the disillusioned may be saved with proper care and rehabilitation.” She said the last part like it was lovely and cushy and full of care, but Abellana (paranoid as she is) immediately thought of torture and the like.
“I see,” she instead said simply, now uncomfortable. “May I please get a room?”
“Of course, dear,” the innkeeper smiled, fishing for a key, talking like she hadn’t been speaking of genocide a few moments earlier. “Here’s your key, room 14. That will be 16 retsk.”
Abellana fished out the appropriate amount and took the key. Hoisting her pack over her shoulder with one hand and clutching her coat tighter around her with the hand holding the key, she yawned and told the innkeeper, “Thank you; there’s no one needed to wake me up and I’ll find my own breakfast. Good night, ma’am!”
“Good night!” the lady replied. “The preacher is giving a sermon tomorrow at the tenth hour in the square, you should attend!”
Abellana simply gave a noncommittal ‘mmm’ and clambered up the stairs.
She flopped down on her bed and let out a breath.
This doesn’t bode well for business.
((Okay, that’s me! Being all nice and setting up a place for y’all to come in~
I would like to stress that Abellana’s pretty normal and could pass for a completely average human. Her “powers” merely consist of building things that attract magic or that she can instill magic in, which basically requires her saying a few words and a small ritual. This is all she can do; she could never get past that. She simply has no aptitude for magic.
Also, she’s more calm than I first depicted her. She believes in equality but is a Lawful Neutral, but if she disagrees she’ll be a Neutral Good. She just wants to survive, but she’ll do what she can. Like a normal person with more liberal views.
And I actually pretty like this religion plotbunny Bismarck brought up. We could combine it with the zombies: necromancer kills these races and makes obedient, powerful zombie slaves of magical beings/magic users. Yay/nay?))
Renier sat in the town square crowd, nervously reading her book and trying to look non-magical. Everyone around her seemed to be members of the church, and were talking about evil magic users as they waited for the sermon to begin.
Despite being a magic user herself, Renier had come to the sermon to find out about the new religion, because it was generally good to know things like this. Maybe there were other magic supporters in the crowd, and they would stand up and argue. Or maybe all the people around her really did believe in destroying the “dark forces”. It worried her, but not knowing would have worried her even more.
The murmuring quieted. A man in robes was climbing up the the podium.
((I really prefer it if people keep RPG comments out of the replies. In this case, it’s not too much of a problem, but it can be really annoying in other places.))
Ianthe:
I stared at the map, moving my finger across it. Twenty-three possible towns within two days travel of Reinfall, and I had to pick one of them. I couldn’t stay here again, that had been a disaster.
As soon as I picked one, I could go. Everything else was ready. I had food for two weeks. I’d arranged a false trail leading towards Stockton, clothes that wouldn’t mark me as a noble instantly. I had a variety of spells prepared which would make me appear as anything from an tall man to a dwarf. I had two more spells to affect the weather, one to provide a shelter of mist for the first few hours, the other to start it raining when I was safely out of range. Everything was prepared. Except my destination.
I couldn’t decide. It should have been easy, to pick a name off the map and start off in that direction. But it wasn’t. I knew nothing about any of them, and I didn’t like making decisions without information. I continued staring at the map.
My candle had nearly sputtered out before I finally poked the map angrily, and looked where my finger had landed. Daggerford. Very well.
Tomorrow I would set out.
((Wait, is the city called Daggerford now?))
((Okay, I think I have this straight: The plot is that there is a preacher who has created a religion that is bent on destroying magic users, and he is whipping up quite a following. We are also combining this with the necromancer idea, in that the necromancer will kill magical beings to create powerful, obedient slaves, while somehow avoiding being killed by religious zealots (since a necromancer is a magic user, right?). ))
((Note: I am changing Christopher’s backstory since I don’t think his current one is going to work.
Backstory: Lives with his parents and two sisters in the town of Westing. His father is a prominent circuit healer and Christopher works as his assistant.
Clothes: Wears a light gray tunic with darker gray pants tucked into brown boots. Has a strong belt with several small pouches attached which hold various herbs and such. Also carries a satchel with medical supplies. When riding, wears a black travelling cloak.))
CHRISTOPHER
The inn was full of talk and laughter as Father and I rode up. I handed my reins to the stableboy and followed Father inside. It had been a very long day. Up before dawn, then a five mile ride to Tebias; treated a sick baby, two badly wounded hunter, a boy with a broken leg, and a dying old man… I was looking forward to having a warm meal and a soft bed tonight.
A young, pretty brunette brought our order.
“There you are, sirs – enjoy!” She flashed me a bright smile before departing.
“Another suitor, I see,” said my father with a grin. I rolled my eyes.
“Very funny.”
We applied ourselves to our meal with relish. As I cut up my beef, I heard the voice of a fellow diner who was sitting behind me.
“…some religion, eh?” The large man gaffawed loudly. “Don’t these people realize that without magic, this kingdom would be in complete disarray?”
“But what about recent events, Peter?” countered his fellow. “That baby girl in Hemming who vanished from her cradle. The plague in Terrin that no healer could cure. Clearly the work of elves or sprites or some other magic wielder.” Peter waved a hand dismissively.
“So there are there are those who use magic for evil. What else is new? Focus your energies and hunt those few down. This preacher in Daggerford is talking genocide, Justin, and he’s whipping up a following.”
I looked up at Father, who was frowning intently. He had also overheard Peter and Justin’s conversation.
“Excuse me sir,” he said to the one called Peter. “Do you mean to say that this religion is attacking magic users?” Peter nodded.
“At the moment, this preacher is speaking out against overtly magical races, like the elves, for example. But I suppose it stands to reason that it could spread to humans who can use magic.” He shook his head again and turned back to his fellow.
((IDK, I think the two should be separate threats, and in the face of the greater evil, The Knights– or at least Ser Walter– would align with the good magic users to eliminate the threat that the necromancer represents.))
Hang on….Your character is anti-magic, but leads The Knights to align with the good magic users… and Ser Walter is NOT the preacher…and in your view the necromancer plot should be separate…unless the necromancer’s action are what is causing this preacher to rail against magical creatures?
As you may have noticed, I’m slightly confused.
((You know the saying “choose the lesser of two evils”? That’s where I am coming from.
Ser Walter is part of the martial portion of the cult of Zealastre, the Knight’s of Ardor, and is reasonable enough that in the presence of a necromancer out to take over the world will choose to fight with the forces out to eradicate the necromancer even if they are magical themselves.
The necromancer and the Knights of Ardor would never be on the same side. They are at cross purposes.
Granted, the cult has its share of crazies, but I hope Ser Walter is not one of them.))
((Ah. Much becomes clear. Thank you.))
When the town bells struck the tenth hour, a large crowd had already formed in the square. Some people seemed excited, others looked more serious. A small, wizened man climbed up to a raised platform and the crowd instantly hushed. It was hard to tell how old he was, but he seemed to be possessed of a great energy.
“People!” he cried. “I bring great tidings. The great Zealastre, who shall be known as Lord of all, has looked down upon this land and is displeased!”
“With you, I’ll bet,” a girl next to Lysander muttered under her breath.
Lysander glanced at her.
“This land is filled with filth and corruption!” the preacher cried. “Magic has spread like a disease! It threatens your families, your friends–all that you hold dear.”
“How?” The girl next to Lysander yelled. “How exactly is it dangerous?”
The preacher turned his bulgy eyes towards her. “It is used by lesser beings–elves, orcs, fairies, the like–to defile and endanger the human race. It is our responsibility to cleanse the land of these races, as well as our right to protect our own!”
“Kill them!” Someone shouted. A few cheered in agreement.
“You’ll want to get out now,” Lysander whispered to the girl. “Avoid the soldiers–they’re over there, there, and there,” she said, subtly indicating. As they spoke, more soldiers–members of the preacher’s guard–walked into the square. The crowd was getting restless.
“Cleanse the land!” The preacher cried. The crowd began to shout in agreement.Then, someone fired an arrow at the preacher and a riot broke out. Lysander grabbed the girl next to her and they worked their way out. The soldiers around the square were firing their crossbows at anyone who looked like they weren’t human. Lysander put a knife into one of them and the two girls ran. They took a few turns down back alleys until they reached the poorer part of Daggerford.
“Thank you,” the other girl said. “What’s your name?”
Lysander hadn’t looked at her properly, but now she realized that she was beautiful. “Lysander,” she said with a slight stammer, then cursed internally.
“Gemina,” the other girl replied.
“That was stupid, yelling at the preacher like that,” Lysander said quickly. The girl shrugged.
“He just made so angry,” Gemina said. “I was hoping that contradicting him would make people stop and think, but…” They could hear noise from the square now–perhaps the riot had spread. Gemina looked up at the sky. Storm clouds that hadn’t been there earlier were fast approaching. A few more minutes and there would be a deluge.
“Get going,” Lysander said. “A magic-user like you won’t last five minutes here. And I’ve already saved you once.”
“Where do you have to go?” Gemina asked. Lysander shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Goodbye.” She turned and walked away. Gemina looked west–smoke was rising.
“Wash the scum from the earth,” she said to herself. The sky opened, and she ran.
(( Should the person shooting at the preacher be Fedora? I was thinking about that.))
((Sure.))
Ser Walter, High Constable of the Knights of Ardor
The turnout was most substantial. The market square was picketed by upwards of 500 peasants, merchants, and lesser nobles all squeezed into the main square. I knelt, thanking Zealastre for His part in this. It made sense that those who heard of our order would flock to prepare themselves for the good news, but His blessed vigilance must never go without gratitude.
Cleric Leopold’s booming voice reached the conclusion of his sermon, and the throng burst into applause. Sensing my cue, I regained my feet and, nodding at my company, strode up to the platform. A hush fell over the crowd as their eyes swelled to the diameter of dinner plates, unblinking and unmoving upon my shimmering armor and the marks of my station. I began.
“Citizens of Stockton, wayward travelers, and others, it isn’t every day that a thriving village opens its gates to a battalion of heavily armored warriors. The outer walls are riddled with scars that would suggest that a closed gate is a prudent gate.”
The crowd tittered. Someone shouted something from the back, but I waved my hand asking for silence.
“The swords at their sides have cleaved enemy limbs. Each silver breastplate has resisted its share of coup de graces. Their shields bear the dents of menacing long bowmen, and within each polished helm lies memories of fallen comrades. You have seen warfare, yet you know that this is not its face. This is the new army. Zealastre, god of valor, presents to you his pilgrims. These men are not peons of some warlord but are destined to secure humanity’s birthright: an empire where every field hand, dock worker, and serf among you is a king in his own right.
Cheers erupted from the mass of onlookers, and bolstered by their enthusiasm, I continued.
“But they cannot do it alone. Our lands are sick with a toxic hubris. Who among you would dare embrace the ancient rituals? Who among you wishes to be gods? Temptation is sewn into the very fabric of our society and is the one thing preventing us from achieving Zealastre’s goal for our race.
Again more clamoring, but I was distracted by a harried member of my company appearing toward the back of the throng.
“We must stomp out the bearers of this disease, if we are ever to be healthy again. Knife ears, garden ornaments, brownies, and mud dwellers, their fate will be determined by our swords!”
My second hurled a great sword, and I caught it with my outstretched hand. Muttering a brief oath, I raised the blade above head, eliciting gasps from the masses as it crackled with tendrils of lightning.
“Join us, and together we will reap these precious bounties!”
The crowd exploded, rushing the platform to enlist as I disembarked and made my way to the new arrival. “Constable, sir,” the young man saluted, and I nodded for him to report.
“Riots in Daggerford, sir. An Elven dissenter and probable mage caused some sort of attack during Cleric Amell’s address. She was seen leaving the square with a second attacker.”
I swore. Stockton was supposed to have magical sympathizers not Daggerford. I made arrangements for my second to begin the enlistment process and gathered some 18 men and a promising shock trooper to await me at the stables. It had started to rain.
((So if the Knights of Ardor meet an elf by the roadside, they would not hesitate to shoot, right? It’s important for my storyline.))
((If you meet the Buddha on the road…))
((Only if they present a threat. Walter will halt any leaving Daggerford at this point due to the ruckus during Cleric Amell’s address.))
Esgalanu
Here I am, running away again.
“It’s not like I can help it,” I told my bow. “I can’t even heal the tiniest cut, or lift a rock, or grow a tree. Nothing.”
My bow didn’t answer. Not that I expected it to. My bow was a good listener, but I had learned from experience that talking was not its strong suit. I shouldn’t complain. It wasn’t mine either.
“I was an outcast. An outcast in a land of outcasts. How does that work?”
The dark elves aren’t normal. Far from it. But somehow, I managed to be ridiculed, teased, and mocked. Magic. Bah! It was overrated. I was a prolific archer, the best in my small village. I could play flute with the best of them. But since I couldn’t manipulate energy or whatever magic is (I hadn’t paid attention in class), I was a freak. A mutant, they called me.
“Look at his eyes,” the elders said. “He must be deformed. He can’t use magic, too. We cannot welcome this child into our halls.”
So I stayed with the dark elves for fifteen years. Fifteen long, hard, spiteful years. Fifteen years was long enough. I had set out from the camp two days ago, taking only my weapons, my flute, and a few changes of clothes. Was I ready for the world outside? I doubted it. But I needed to leave. I didn’t have parents. I didn’t have friends. I had my possessions, meager as they were, and my internal compass.
((More to come, but I have to get off.))
((I’m having to fight back the urge to turn this into an IF game.
You are standing in a dark house. There is a small chest by the door and a piece of paper on the mantle above the fireplace. A staircase leads upstairs. Exits are NORTH and SOUTH.
>examine chest
You have been eaten by a grue.
Anyway, I’m going to wait until an opportune moment comes along to enter the story.))
((Stockton is actually a town in central California, a little south of Sacramento. Atatity is a town in Northwestern Russia. Just thought it interesting~))
Abellana woke the next morning with a sense of notrightwrong just underneath her skin, scuttling over her bones. She shivered and dressed quickly.
The air didn’t seem right.
Like the innkeeper had told her, there was a gathering crowd of people in front of a wooden platform. Abellana kept to the edge, finally ducking into a small shop when the square became too full. A wizened old man with a trailing white beard and a robe and hat of even cleaner white emblazened with a strange symbol stepped up to the podium. He started speaking of “cleansing the earth” and Abellana didn’t find it in herself to try and care enough to listen. She leaned against the empty countertop, thinking.
Djaeval… this doesn’t look good. I can’t sell here, if this rally is any indication. There’s really nothing in the inventory right now that doesn’t do something magical, and the inn costs will rack up quickly. But if I venture outside, I’ll lose any safety I might have had.
Ugh. I hate it when things like this happen. I guess I’ll try to find a safe house to take refuge in and build some quick normal things.
With her mind made up, Abellana exited and quickly found herself in a mob. People were stampeding and fighting and there was so much noise and she hated it but she couldn’t get out and she was breathing too quickly and had to scream. Abellana managed to keep quiet but she was on the verge of panic; she couldn’t get back into the relative safety of the shop as she had been swept away by the riot. She was being buffeted this way and that, too much like a sea storm, and-
A hand closed around her upper arm and yanked her away.
((So, does ‘tenth hour’ mean ten o’clock, or ten hours from sunrise? I suppose with magic around, clocks centered around midnight and noon would be a bit more likely, but it seems more likely that they would count hours from dawn, at least to me.
Not that it really matters, but if it’s ten in the morning then there’s no way that Ianthe could be there, and if it’s around sunset then she could be.))
Renier shoved her way through the crowd, terrified. The roiling mass of people were pushing her back, driven to slaughter anyone who looked magical. Knives ripped at her tunic as she struggled to stay above the trampling boots.
And the worst part was, she couldn’t use magic. In other circumstances, she could have tried a shielding spell, but in this crowd she’d have a dagger in her back before the protection could activate. She was completely defenseless, in a crowd of people screaming for the blood of magic users.
Then someone threw something. Sparks showered over the crowd, and suddenly a blazing yellow wall of flames descended on them.
Great, fire, thought Renier with the tiny part of her brain that wasn’t panicking. Just what we need.
((my computer is not reachable at the moment (I’m on someone elses) could I join this later when I get my computer back? ))
FEDORA
A huge crowd had gathered in the town square. Fedora figured she should watch. A flyer was on one of the columns, Preacher Sermon, 10th Hour. A man ascended the stairs. Fedora assumed he was the preacher.
.“People!†he cried. “I bring great tidings. The great Zealastre, who shall be known as Lord of all, has looked down upon this land and is displeased!This land is filled with filth and corruption!†“Magic has spread like a disease! It threatens your families, your friends–all that you hold dear.â€
“How?†A girl yelled. “How exactly is it dangerous?â€
The preacher stared at her. “It is used by lesser beings–elves, orcs, fairies, the like–to defile and endanger the human race. It is our responsibility to cleanse the land of these races, as well as our right to protect our own!â€
WHAT?!? Fedora thought-shrieked.
“Kill them!†Someone shouted. A few cheered in agreement.
Despicable. She thought.
” Cleanse the land! ” The ‘ preacher’ yelled. Her rage overcame her. She shot an arrow at him, and totally missed. That darned rage. The anti-magic folk was aiming at anyone who was magical. Fedora sprinted, as far a she could, trying frantically to avoid the bullets and arrows streaking everywhere. A helpless looking girl, probably magic, judging by the people attacking her was cornered by the bloodthirsty mob. Fedora didn’t want anyone else to die today. She shot an arrow at one of the people raising their knife, and nailed him in the back of the head.
” Get her! ” One shouted. They charged. Fedora jumped out of the way, just in time. She would’ve been a splat in the road if she didn’t. She grabbed the girl by the wrist and ran before anyone else noticed.
Then, she saw the fire.
” RUN!” She shrieked, pointing at a empty building with a for sale sign, blue door, and opaque glass. A great hiding place, 2 floors. She sneaked inside.
” Who are you?” The blond asked.
” Oh, my name is Fedora, I’m a half elf.” Fedora replied. She showed the girl her pointed ear. ” Who are you?”
” My name is …”
(( This could be Renier or Abellena, or anyone else. If nobody want’s to be person, It’ll be Aleria. ))
((Abellana is a redhead, love~ It’s only my gravatar that’s a blond.))
(( Sorry, I was originally going to have it be Aleria.))
(( Wow, this thread really took off. I’ll try and jump in as best I can.))
From the minute Aria opened the door, the world was ablaze.
She had been ready to sneak out, clad in her tunic, hunting boots and leggings, hair knotted behind her head. She tucked her rapier into her belt and opened the door of her family’s small bungalow into what appeared to be absolute madness. From what she could gather, there was a raised wooden platform in the middle of the square, surrounded by a crowd of screaming people. Magic folk were being attacked left and right. Arrows were flying. Knives went whizzing past. It was a complete and utter pandemonium. A riot.
Without thinking, Aria grabbed her sword and plunged into the madness. Her only thought was to save the magical folk being attacked. Her blue eyes darted sharply through the square. A crowd of officials came spilling out from the front doors of the town hall, armed with heavy swords and shields. They began smiting down angry townspeople left and right, but were quickly gathered into the vast sea of bodies. It was difficult for Aria to breathe, surrounded and almost crushed by the masses. Keep pushing forward. Keep pushing forward.
Suddenly, a crowd of men clad in black were surrounding a magical being. Aria raced as fast as she could towards them, and just as they were about to deliver a death blow, she sliced the tip of her blade through the shoulder of the incriminating man. He howled with pain and rage, and Aria took her chance as the others were distracted. She stuck both her arms through the wall of enemies and grabbed the figure out.
She dragged the struggling figure through a nearby doorway into a shop, forcing them into a seat. “Let go!” the person yelled. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”
“Don’t worry. I’m not here to hurt you, calm down,” she snapped. “Who are you? What’s going on here?”
((NOTE: This is an INSERT place for any people trying to get into the story. It’s gender neutral.))
LANYING ZAI-LIN
I stood at the back of the company, humming a tune as I swirled fire inbetween my fingertips.
Oh, wait, rain? Rain? The antithesis to fire?! Zealastredamnit, right now I sort of actually wanted to be in Daggerford. At least there I might get to fight~ Most might not suspect a teenage girl of being a warrior, but it was at least more fun than sitting at home and learning to be a ‘proper lady’, or being sent to the circus. …or burning myself, of course, but I’ve done that enough times that it doesn’t really hurt anymore.
…
“I’m boooored,” I whined to myself, running a finger over the tattoos surrounding my mouth. Fire’s useless in the rain, and by proxy, I’m useless too. Nothing to do but wait, now, wait for orders…and let my handler watch me.
{the 20-something young man keeps a weapon by his side, but besides that is a set of vials filled with an anti-magic potion.}
Sometimes, y’know, it might be easier if I was actually kept chained somehow.
A riot. I felt panic rise up in my throat. Ever since I had arrived in town a few days ago, I had known that something was wrong–now this. At least I had no magic–oh no. These people were persecuting magical folk, too–and my ears were pointed, red because of the rain that was beginning to fall, exposed, a bloody beacon for anyone hunting elves, even if I was only a half-elf. I tried to brush my hair over them, hide them, do anything–but then a crowd of men in black clothing were surrounding me, suffocating me, holding me down as I thrashed, and just as they were about to kill me–
Someone dragged me into a shop, forcing me down into a chair.
“Let go!” I shouted at her–I barely registered that it was a her–“I’ve done nothing wrong!”
“Don’t worry. I’m not here to hurt you, calm down,†she snapped. “Who are you? What’s going on here?â€
“Like I’d tell you my name,” I retorted. “It’s a quest, to take out the filthy lesser races, who endanger this land with their filthy magic, in case you haven’t noticed.”
She recoiled. “I just saved your life. You could stand to be a little more grateful.”
I stood up. “Fine. Thank you.”
I winced as a girl about my age ran into the shop I was hiding in, dragging some one else with her. Luckily they didn’t notice as I quickly jumped behind the counter. I heard muffled arguing and watched as the second girl stood up and said, “Fine. Thank you.” My body froze, staring at the back of her head wishing her not to turn around… Hoping they weren’t with the anti-magic campaign. ((jumping in here, is that okay?))((my name is Malcolm now))
“My name’s Renier,” she said to Fedora. “I suppose I can tell you I’m a magic user, but not enough to put out the fire or anything. Sorry. Um … thanks for saving me.” She tried not to look at the girl’s pointed ears. Rescued by an elf, the most humiliating thing that could have happened, and now trapped in a shop with one. Half-elf, she reminded herself, and through no fault of her own. We’re both equally hunted now. We’ll have to get along.
There was another fiery explosion from outside, and the windows cracked. Just then, someone else darted into the dark shop. ((Entering point for whoever wants to!))
I headed for the door and then paused, my hand on my sword.
“What are you waiting for?” The girl snapped. “Just go.”
“Go iheid,” I said smoothly, stepping out of the way.
She glared at me, disgusted, and exited, throwing herself back into the ensuing chaos. Good to know that there might be some people who weren’t total pigs. But still–better to not trust anybody.
A soft intake of breath reminded me of why I was stopping. I put my hand on my sword, heading towards the door again…and spun around, drawing it.
“Who’s there?” I demanded, and, when I received no reply, I strode over to the back of the room, around a desk. A blond haired boy, about my age, dressed in dark colored clothes, was crouched there. I flicked my sword up to his neck. “Whit’re you doeng here?” I breathed.
“I’m just–”
“Eivesdropping? How enteresteng,” I spat. “Heir inytheng good, you sneikeng bet of felth?”
“Just get it over with. If you’re so anti-magic.”
“A’m not.” So I’d misjudged him–or he was lying his way out of this. Either way… I lowered my sword. “Ef you’re migec, A’d run. Fist. They’re bloody sliughtereng people out there. You’re humin, so you’ll blend en. Best get goeng.” I pulled a scarf out of my pocket and tied it around my head, effectively covering my ears. The boy just sat there, looking relieved. “Do you need me to hede you, or get you out of town?”
((Forgot her accent the first time, oops. It’s rather tedious, so I probably won’t keep doing it…but that was fun. :D))
((sneikeng bet of feith! ROFLMAO!! I <3 this post))
((The next time I’m in an argument with somebody, that’s what I’ll call them. ))
Ser Walter, High Constable of the Knights of Ardor
“Your horse, sir,” a stocky young man called from the outer circle of tents. I had just finished briefing Ser Danarius on the sudden change in supply lines due to the incursion, and the well built squire had arrived exactly on time.
“Excellent, I will be there shortly,” I responded, turning back to receive a final salute from the quartermaster.
“What of the..ahem,” Ser Danarius abruptly coughed,”…ointment, sir?” The grey eyed official leaned in so as to not allow others to listen in. I clucked my tongue, pausing to remove a bit of roast stuck between my teeth as I thought. “Keep it on the normal course,” I hissed, “I’ll deliver it personally. The Grand Constable is going to have field day with this debacle. We do not need anything else going wrong.”
The quartermaster concurred. “Just remember: cauldron of saddlewock at the red door,” he whispered then calmly departed.
I mounted my faithful steed, Ajax, and galloped to the far side of the castle. Horse manure coursed down the muddy hill in the torrential rain, and I noted the irony of Zealastre’s champions having to leave when Stockton was finally clean. The 19 strong group of combatants perked up at the sight of their superior and nudged their horses forward into the misery of the rain. The shock trooper, a slender teenager in a grey and orange tunic, seemed to visibly brighten at my approach. A wave of salutes went up the line, and I returned the gesture, motioning for the group to move out.
Progress was slowed by the rain. Much of the road seemed to take on the consistency of a bog, and I feared for Ajax’s hooves as well as my armor. One of the rear guard pulled his horse toward the front, and signaled for me to look to the left. A girl with copper hair set in a fine braid tromped through the mud just a few kilometers away. Following my lead, the company turned toward the lone traveler and changed formation ever so slightly in case pursuit was necessary.
((Hello Errata! Welcome to the story line.))
“Like I’d tell you my name,†the girl responded indignantly. “It’s a quest, to take out the filthy lesser races, who endanger this land with their filthy magic, in case you haven’t noticed.â€
Aria recoiled with anger. So much for manners. “I just saved your life. You could stand to be a little more grateful.â€
She stood up. “Fine. Thank you.â€
“You’re welcome.” Aria bristled a bit with anger at her attitude. ” Just what do you mean by filthy magic? That’s a perfectly disrespectful thing to say. Why, I ought to…”
Suddenly, there was a noise behind them. Both girls jumped with a start and turned around to see a tall boy with coarse blond hair and startled blue eyes emerging from behind the counter. He didn’t look harmful, more frightened. Still, not wanting to throw caution to the wind, Aria quickly raised her rapier in front of her and took three quick steps towards the boy. “Don’t make any sudden moves.”
((Did you not see my post before it was moderated…? Sorry. Why don’t we just go with your version of events?))
((Oh! No, I didn’t, I’m so sorry! And sure, that’d be fine with me if you like. ))
((Wow! I’ve only been computerless since Friday! This thing has taken off and soared. I’m getting kind of confused though, so I’m going to list what I think I know and people can correct me.
-There is a preacher who wants to kill all magic people because of a religion
-Fedora shot an arrow and a riot started
-A fire somehow got started, and everyone is panicking and characters are meeting up))
Erasmo:
Erasmo had been calmly watching the riot from the roof of his building with little interest. He had some magic, but precious few people even knew he existed, let alone his minute knowledge of magic. His interest perked, however, when an arrow flew right into the head of someone and the riot started. His eyes widened when he saw the fire begin, so close to his home that he had made his. His home was a building that was theoretically owned by what little government ruled this place, but no one ever came, so he had set up a for sale sign with a bogus address to go to if you were interested. No one had entered the place save him for a long, long time.
He watched as interesting people began storming into his house. He sighed, knowing that they would not leave until the riot was over. Erasmo snuck over began to listen to their conversation.
“Who are you” The girl with blond hair asked the other one.
“Oh, my name is Fedora, I’m a half-elf,” the one apparently known as Fedora replied.
“My name is Renier” The other one replied, “I suppose I can tell you I’m a magic user, but not enough to put out the fire or anything. Sorry. Um … thanks for saving me.†She trailed off as Erasmo stepped out of the shadows and walked into their line of sight., trying to appear as though he was rushing in from outside.
“Why are you here?” He asked, trying to put as much force as he could behind the words, “If you are seeking refuge, I suggest you find other accomodations. This building is mine.”
“We were just trying to escape the riot! They are trying to kill those who use magic!” The one called Fedora said. Then she looked at Erasmo and said, “Do you use magic? If so, then they’ll come after you too!”
“But yet who would go to look in an empty house? And how would they find the one who knows all the nooks and crannies in which to hide? Even if they did find me, they could not know about the little magic I use, and I am far from defenseless,” said Erasmo, cocky and confident, and from the way he said it, you could believe it.
ARAMIL
My pointed ears and nose flick as I hear and smell the fire from the city-dwellers from my perch in the forest. I scamper up a tree to get a better look, and see their town burning in flame.
“This could be good for me” I think coldly, watching them burn, “But then again, this could burn down the forest as well.”
I cast a quick web of invisibility around myself and sling my bow over my shoulder. Quickly and with the trained silence that only a woodsmen could master, I walk into the city, trying to get a view of what is going on. I slowly gather a picture of the prejudice and destruction going on here, and decide that it is within my interests to stop the persecution of magic folk, for many of my city-bound kin are here. I look around for a second, then enter a room with three other people in it, some obviously magic users.
“Why is this man persecuting those who use magic?” I ask, throwing off my invisibility as I do so. Everyone looks shocked, but quickly realize that I used magic and am therefore on their side, so they explain what is going on quickly. I nod, then my ears perk up, hearing something from outside.
Suddenly, a fireball flies through an open window and explodes, knocking down an entire wall and sending everyone in the room flying backward, temporarily dazed. A tall man wearing dark robes enters the room. I stand there, shocked. ” But you’re on our side!” I say confusedly, “You use magic, you’re being hunted down, you must come with us!”
The man ignores me and starts chanting again, waving his arms wildly. I frantically ready myself to deflect his spell when I notice a collar around his neck that is pulsating constantly.
((Hopefully that’s a good enough introduction, and please tell me if I made any mistakes. I was thinking that the man could either be and undead controlled by the necromancer or a mage captured by the new religion, but anything works))
((Yaaaa! We have a source for the fireball. I was growing concerned as no one seemed to address that.
Oh, it’s not just a preacher. We are collectively known as the cult of Zealastre, and any mage under our control will bear a mouth tattoo and (though thoroughly “reeducated”) will have complete control of their mental faculties/will.
Mind controlling collars are always good, and either source that you mentioned still works fine.))
((I just thought the fire could have been started by a lamp or candle tipped over in the confusion, but this is better.))
((Um… I need someone to grab me…))
((going with the second post))
I stared at the rapier pointed at my chest.
“Umm… ” I lifted my hands slowly above my head, showing I wasn’t about to attack. “I’m not going to harm you, but you seem to need some help getting out of here. If you want to. Or maybe not. Just thought you wouldn’t look so suspicious if a human was with you.. I mean if you want to leave this place. Or you could stay and help the magic users… I could help if you want…” I stuttered on hopelessly, not sure what to do. They both glared at me. “Well we should at least keep moving. Riots are unpredictable.”
((my wolf is hiding outside the city, still there))
“I’m so sorry we’re in your house,” Renier apologized to Erasmo, who appeared to be a gnome. “But now that there’s three of us, could we sort of … help save more people, or something? I can do a bit of protection and healing magic, Fedora had enough fighting skills to pull me out of the battle, and you just said you know everything about this house. So, um … could we maybe try to help?”
((I guess it doesn’t really matter, but the room that got blasted was supposed to be the room you guys were in… Oh well))
Erasmo:
“And what can I do to help? If I went out there all I would be able to do is get stepped on. And we’re kind of busy right now, just in case you hadn’t noticed.” Erasmo said, pointing to the scary looking man looking ready to blow us all up.
“Oh, that is a problem!” Renier said, turning toward Erasmo.
Erasmo shushed her with a finger, then whispered, “Distract them”
He then pulled his hood over his head and ran stealthily toward a shadow, fading in with them until nearly invisible.
Meanwhile, Fedora and Renier had pulled out bows and were shooting them rapidly at the intruder while dodging the fireballs that Aramil was trying to counter as rapidly as he could.
Erasmo snuck behind some crates he had set up earlier. He had designed the furniture in this building so he could be near invisible in shadows from almost any angle, so he had no trouble staying unnoticed as he snuck toward the back of the mysterious caster. Quietly, he pulled a flask out from his cloak and dipped his dagger in the dark, syrupy liquid.
He snuck up on the mysterious caster, who’s attention was near totally absorbed by the constant onslaught of attacks he was constantly giving and receiving, and prepared for his deadly attack.
Just as he was about to strike, Erasmo heard a muffled step behind him, and he whirled around and sunk his dagger deep into the chest of a hooded man, who was just about to do the same thing to him. The paralytic poison on his dagger acted quickly, and the man sank to the floor.
((Wait. Did I miss something, or … since when is there a scary looking man trying to kill us? I’m confused.
Also, Renier cannot use a bow. At all. But maybe she could be shooting spells at the intruder or something … it doesn’t really matter.))
((See Aramil’s post 62, the room he was in was supposed to be your room))
Ianthe:
I had clearly done something wrong with my spells, because it was raining on me. My cloak kept off most of the water, but I was still wet. And cold. And beginning to regret leaving at all.Â
The knowledge that I would regret going back even more was the only thing that kept me going.Â
I was just beginning to get hungry and tired when I heard horses behind me and turned. A squad of soldiers was riding towards me. Zealastre’s cult, based on their banner. My parents had been talking about almost nothing but that cult for a week, and had sent my magic tutor away because of it. This did not leave me with positive feelings toward the cult, but I was sensible enough to know that they could help me, if I handled this right. I kept walking, a touch slower than before, planning and waiting for them to catch up.Â
When they did catch up, Â I looked somewhat different. I left my hair, they had seen it anyway, but my eyes were green now, my nose and mouth were shaped slightly differently, and I had a splash of freckles. Different enough to disguise me.Â
They stopped right beside me, and the leader spoke. “Hail, lady! What brings you here alone? Surely it is not proper for a well-born woman to be out on her own?”
I curtsied, somewhat rustily. I was never much good at court etiquette. “Thank you kindly for your concern, Sir. Indeed, I would never have come here were it not necessary. My father is a merchant, you see, but he has fallen on hard times. He had to get a message to his brother in Daggerford, and there was nobody else to send. I would not have come if there was another way, but I have no brother, and my father had to stay with the store.”
((Incidentally, Ianthe uses magic in an unusual fashion, as do many other nobles. Spells seem almost solid to the person who created them, and anybody they chose to give the spell to. Between the time you create a spell and the time you cast it, feels almost like an intricate knot, and creating a spell is similar to tying a knot. This is known as ‘high magic’ (All other sorts are ‘low magic’) to those who use it, and considered by them to be much more refined.))
Esgalanu:
I traveled out of the forest, going anywhere but backwards. I soon came out of the deep woods and in the distance, I could glimpse the outline of a city. My journey into civilization had to begin somewhere, after all.
…
I entered the city, and soon I heard voices. Lots of voices. It sounded like a riot. We didn’t have those with the dark elves, I thought, feeling slightly homesick. Brushing those thoughts from my head, I walked into the town square. Suddenly I was grabbed from behind.
“Look at his ears!” someone yelled. “He’s an elf! He can use magic!” Before I could explain to them that I was not an elf, I was a dark elf (not that it mattered, but I wanted to set the record straight) and that I could not, in fact, use magic, they hauled me off across the square.
((Anyone want to rescue/interrogate/whatever Esgalanu?))
Ser Walter, High Constable of the Knights of Ardor
What an awful curtsy. I’ve seen more convincing strives at nobility from knife ears. I could not say that I believed her, but it seemed pointless to waste an antimagic potion or check the ears of a young woman half drowned in the rain.
“What does your uncle work in?” I pried then cautiously added ” If I may be so bold.”
“He sells all sorts of trinkets and often imports much from the Northern city states, sir,” she replied.
“Excellent,” I responded, “I am in need of ‘in’ among the Daggerford merchants’ guild. We will escort you to your destination, provided we have a proper introduction with this uncle of yours.”
“You’re too kind,” she breathed.
“A favor for a favor, and I’m sure your uncle will be happy to find out that you were in this ghastly weather without a chaperone for the shortest length of time possible.,” I exclaimed.” Ser Robert help the young lady onto your horse.”
A pink cheeked youth moved his steed forward, extending a gauntlet covered hand to the soaked traveler. She complied allowing the all too happily grinning knight to hoist her into the spot in front of him.
“I…ah uh…like your freckles er…um your hair…yeah,” Ser Robert managed to stutter, his eyes taking on the gleam of a child’s with a new sword.
“Keep your hands away from her hips.” I urged.
“I wasn’t doing anything!” he retorted, stiffening visibly and wrenching to grab the reins. “Just wanted to make sure she didn’t fall out, you know.”
“Just watch the road,” I admonished, “Move out men.” Whomever our new guest was, she was not going anywhere soon.
Sensing no danger from the boy, Aria lowered her rapier and sheathed it again. “Good idea,” she agreed. “Let’s go. Can you show us a way out?”
The boy nodded nervously, stepping out from behind the counter. “Yes, I do. It should be inconspicuous and we’ll avoid the public eye.” Without warning, he dropped to the wooden beams of the shop floor, pulling back an oriental rug with coughed up a puff of dust in protest. The rug revealed a wooden trapdoor, which the boy opened and, without pretense, Aria, the girl, and the boy jumped in and shut the door.
The trapdoor led them into a dank and musty underground tunnel. It was dripping and muddy from the recent rainstorms, such were the effects of spring in the country. It was nearly pitch black, but they felt along the walls with their hands, the sandy-haired boy leading the way. After what seemed like a few minutes, they reached a set of cobblestone steps which led into filtered sunlight in what appeared to be the outskirts of the town square, just within the boundaries of the woods. “We should be safe here,” the boy said.
“Thank you…”Aria said, and then realized that she didn’t yet know his name.
“Malcolm,” he finished shortly, obviously distracted by the debris and the fight still going on in the town.
“Well, thanks,” she replied. “Things are getting a bit less violent out there. People are starting to take cover.”
“Looks like it,” said the other girl, hastily brushing her hair away from her face. As she did so, Aria noticed something odd that she hadn’t before. The girl had pointy ears. She was an elf.
“You’re an…” Aria began, but before she could finish her sentence, there was a nearby commotion. Without pretense, she grabbed the Malcolm and the girl and dragged them behind the trunk of a rather large oak tree. No sooner had they taken cover than a trio of rough, angry-looking men in ragged clothes dragged a tall, dark elfen man into a nearby tree and began to beat him.
“Oh, no. We have to help him,” Aria breathed.
“And exactly how do you propose we do that?” the girl retorted under her breath, fierce but clearly a bit shocked. She was still trying to cover her pointy ears with her hair.
“Something like this,” Aria said, and she jumped from behind the tree, sword drawn. It quickly became apparent that this was a bad idea. No sooner had she uttered, “Let him go, ruffians!” than she had been pinned against a tree by a rather brutish man with a jagged, curved knife in his hand.
“Magical supporter eh?” he growled. “Just as bad as one of them. Don’t worry, dearie, I’ll make this relatively painless.”
Great.
Gemina: The land sloped upward from the side of the road, leading into the forest. Gemina, hidden behind the crest, watched Ser Walter’s party approach the town. She would have to go north and warn her people up there–hopefully this new movement hadn’t spread too much from the south yet. She was starting to get tired–the thunderstorm had taken more energy than she could afford to lose now. The riders had almost entered town when she heard muffled shouts from the forest. She stole cautiously over to the trees and quickly saw an four people being attacked. One of the ruffians pinned a girl to a tree.
“Magical supporter, eh?” he growled.“Just as bad as one of them. Don’t worry, dearie, I’ll make this relatively painless.â€
Gemina put an arrow into him before he had time to raise his knife. The three other people were fighting for their lives against the remaining two when two more thugs (backup hiding in the forest) came at Gemina. She drew them away from the others, deeper into the woods. It was hand to hand combat now, and she couldn’t waste a second. She killed one but the other took a stab at her and sliced the edge of her ribcage. She gasped and staggered back as blood bloomed on the side of her tunic. As he came for her, she managed to duck under his outstretched arm, twist, and put a knife into him. However, she wasn’t fast enough to jump back and he fell on top of her. Her head struck a rock and she blacked out.
((That OK, Aggie?))
Lysander: She joined the crowd of people rushing to leave town. It was time to move on–this was only a stopping point–but she also couldn’t stop thinking about Gemina. She wasn’t too far from the gates when a group of soldiers, obviously members of the Zealastre cult, rode in. They blocked the traffic exiting the town. She cursed under her breath. She was surrounded by people on all sides, so there was no quick escape. Maybe she could pull this off. The leader, a big burly man that Lysander disliked immediately, consulted with one of his soldiers.
“Citizens of Daggerford,” he proclaimed in a booming voice. “We do not intend to harm you. You have nothing to fear, that is, if you have done nothing wrong.” He looked impressively at the crowd. “No one may leave town without passing through our checkpoint.” In all technicality, it wasn’t his right to declare such restrictions, but seeing as the mayor of the town was a recent convert to Zealastrewhateverism, Lysander doubted he would much object. Luckily, she was near the front of the line.
“Name?” the soldier asked her.
“Jordan Fallow.”
He squinted at her. “Are you a boy or a girl?”
She stared at him. “Does it matter?” With her short, badly cropped hair, it was easy to mistake her for a boy sometimes. Being named Lysander didn’t help.
“I suppose not,” he said uncomfortably. “Race?”
“Human, no magic.”
“That’s what they all say,” he said wearily. “Show your ears.” She brushed back her hair to reveal ears that were only slightly pointed–nothing too unusual.
“Destination?”
“Apatity,” she said promptly, naming a nearby town. A lie, of course.
“What’s in there?” He asked indicating her knapsack.
“Clothes, extra supplies, the usual travel things,” she said with a shrug. “Like I said, I have no magic.” Another lie–she had five bottled poisons in her bag.
“Go on,” he said, waving her through. The rain had stopped but the road was still muddy. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw a flock of birds explode out of the nearby trees. Curious, and for some reason thinking of Gemina–had she gotten out of town?–she went to investigate.
((So wait, do Ser Walter and Gemina know each other? Are we like archenemies?!))
((No, but we can be later! I just specified that it was your group riding into town. Gemina doesn’t know Ser Walter.))
LANYING ZAI-LIN
you hate travel you hate travel you hate travel
I promptly zone out and let my handler guide me along behind the footsoldiers – proper precautions, you know. My hands are kept safely tied. Eh, better than staying at home and knitting, right?
…Wait, we’re at Daggerford already? Wow. Guess I really zoned out this time! My hands are untied, and my handler keeps a gloved hand on my shoulder, making sure I don’t make sudden moves. It’s been about a year since I joined this company, and in that time they’ve seen definite reason for me to be kept under lock and key: so I guess I’m lucky.
At least my clothing stands out.
I threw up my hands in surrender and followed the girl out of the tree. I drew my sword but kept it by my side as the man threatened her. Suddenly an arrow whizzed through the air, felling the man that was pinning the girl to the tree.
With a roar, one of the other men rushed at her. The girl was still pinned to the tree by the dead weight of the body that slumped against her. While she struggled to get free, the man pulled out another knife.
“HEY!” My voice was loud enough that he, at least, looked at me. “We need thit elf! Ser Wilter sent us, ind ef you so much is hirm i sengle hier on hes heid–or on hers, eether–you well wesh you were deid!” It seemed to do the trick, at least temporarily; both men looked slightly wary.
“Who sent that arrow and killed Bosh here?” The man holding the elf asked. ((I’m just randomly naming them, is that okay?))
I shrugged. “Probibly inother migec sympithezer.” I made my voice as scathing as possible. “Look, we need thit elf. I promese you thit he well not be treited…well.”
“What if this is a trick?” The man attacking the girl said, suspicious.
I snorted. “Do you reilly wint to tike the chince? Ser Wilter well kell you–or we well. You’re just desposible rubbesh. He won’t cire.” I saw a flickering of fear in the man’s eyes, but I wasn’t sure if he bought it.
As I was about to jump from behind the tree, when I heard a whizzing noise and a thud as an arrow embedded itself into a body. I stopped myself, listening, not wanting to be the next victim of the archer. Then I heard the girl with the strong accent, “HEY! We need thit elf! Ser Wilter sent us, ind ef you so much is hirm i sengle hier on hes heid–or on hers, eether–you well wesh you were deid!†She seemed to be trying to trick them, so I waiting behind the tree, not wanting to ruin anything. “Who sent that arrow and killed Bosh here?†A man’s voice. “Probibly inother migec sympithezer.†The girl said, “Look, we need thit elf. I promese you thit he well not be treited…well.†“What if this is a trick?” Different man, I guessed the one hit by an archer had been one of the men that was attacking the elf. Do you reilly wint to tike the chince? Ser Wilter well kell you–or we well. You’re just desposible rubbesh. He won’t cire.†Said the accented girl, I really should ask their names I thought to myself, Once we get out of this alive.
Nate ((my wolf)), bring me my sword, but don’t show yourself to anyone. I’m not sure if I will need it yet I communicated to Nate telepathically. I’m on my way He thought back Not to far to go I stood behind the tree waiting for the man’s answer and for Nate’s arrival…
((Aaaahhh! I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be on a live thread!))
CHRISTOPHER
Father and I looked at each other.
“Could it be true?” I whispered with a slight note of fear. “Why kill magical races? But more importantly – will they go for all magic users?” Father shook his head wearily.
“I don’t know, son…but we’d best keep an ear to the ground and get home quickly. We’ll leave at dawn.”
* * *
I was awakened by a sudden, loud, frantic pounding. Someone was evidently trying to get inside the inn. I rolled out of bed and exited my room. I peered over the top of the stairs as the innkeeper and a few others warily approached the door, knives in hand.
“Who goes there?” called the innkeeper. “I warn you – we’re armed!”
((cue someone(s) escaping from Daggerford))
((You all hate me ;_; ))
She struggled initially, but ceased when she realized nobody was there. Abellana stood, her head swivelling around trying to find her assailant/rescuer, but all that appeared to be near her was empty air and the two buildings that formed the alleyway she was in.
Abellana frowned. Either they were invisible or they were very fast runners.
With a sigh Abellana pulled her hood over her head, shaking off the last few threads of panic, and walked briskly back to the inn she was staying at. She checked out, retrieved her things, and went to the stables to prepare her horse in a drifting sort of way, not really aware of what she was doing. Avoiding the crowds, she led her horse to the outer parts of the city until she reached the main gate.
It was closed, the guards called out to stop the riot. She tried the handle: locked.
Abellana leaned against her horse lightly, stroking his neck in a comforting way. For which of them she was not certain, but Onlociend was a calming force for her and she was still trying to do just that. Abellana was shaken from her experience- really, large crowds not trying to buy things from her made her nervous- and she just wanted out of this godforsaken city. This cult… thing was a virus, and she was lucky enough to be immune but the majority of her race was not, and it was worrying.
Abellana needed to watch out. In this stupid, chaotic world, that was all she knew.
((Onlociend= watcher/onlooker))
((Can I be the someone escaping from Daggerford? Oh goody.))
RHYS
I pound on the door as hard as I can, desperately, frantically. There’s safety behind that door, my last chance.
“Who goes there?” shouts a voice. “I warn you – we’re armed!â€
“Let me in!” I shout back.
“Tell us who you are.”
“I’m half-elf,” I say, and right now I don’t care who hears me. “I’m on the run. From Daggerford. It’s chaos there, they’re killing everyone who even looks magical, they tried to kill me, I only just got away, oh, please let me in. Please… Please…”
The door opens. Someone pulls me inside.
Everyone is carrying knives and staring at me. For a moment, I am filled with fresh terror. They’re Zealastre people, they let me in so they could kill me, they’re going to kill me now…
But no. They’re just staring.
Finally, someone asks, in a voice of disbelief, “It’s true? They really are killing magical races over there?”
“Yes,” I say, and then I collapse.
((SFTDP… And I was in such a hurry to post my comment I forgot to include my bio. *headdesk*
Name: Rhys
Race: Half-elf
Magic: Knows magic, but isn’t hugely experienced. His magic tends to go rather dreadfully wrong.
Fighting: Carries a knife for self-defence
Personality: Determined and stubborn. Optimistic.
There. I hope that’s okay!))
((Oh, sorry … Let’s go with Koko’s Apprentice’s version. So, Fedora and Renier are fighting the man in black robes.))
((77.1 – Sounds good!))
CHRISTOPHER
I hurried down the stairs as the stranger collapsed, hearing the voices of fellow lodgers as they came to see what the commotion was.
“What’s going on?”
“Did someone say killing?”
I ignored them and concentrated on getting through the circle of men with knives.
“Excuse me, pardon me, let me through please!” I said in the most authoritative manner I could muster. The still staring innkeeper moved aside. I dropped to my knees next the unconscious half elf. He was breathing, that was a good sign. But he’d definitely been through something nasty, judging by the cuts, bruises, and blood-matted hair.
“You sir,” I said, pointing to a fellow lodger. “Get me a blanket, please.” The man hurried upstairs. As I followed his progress, Father’s head appeared on the landing.
“Pass me my kit, please,” I called up to him. He obliged, and hurried down with his own as well.
“What happened?” Father asked quickly.
“Half-elf, fled Daggerford, almost killed, just collapsed,” I reeled off as the fellow lodger handed me the blanket. “We should probably move him somewhere more comfortable and private than here,” I added quietly, tucking the blanket about the unconscious half elf. Father nodded.
“As soon as you think he’s ready.”
I looked over the stranger again, weighing things.
“I think he can be carried a short distance. Are there any spare rooms on this floor?” I asked the innkeeper. He shook his head. “All of the rooms are upstairs and they’re all full.”
“All right. We’ll take him to our room,” I replied firmly. “When he is strong enough, you can talk to him about the truth of his tale and whatnot.” The innkeeper nodded again. Father and I lifted the stranger, carried him carefully up to our room, put him on my bed, and closed the door.
“Whew,” I said, rolling up my sleeves. “Deadweight is heavy. Pass me the bucket, please.” I took the wet cloth from the bucket to clean the elf’s cuts and scrapes before healing them.
“Is he feverish?” I asked as I ran a shimmering finger down a cut, healing it.
“Slightly,” replied Father, who was attending to the bloodied head.
Within twenty minutes we’d finished our work. I washed my hands in the basin and then rubbed my eyes tiredly.
“You can have the bed first, Christopher. I’ll watch our friend here for a bit,” said Father. Too tired to argue, I acquiesced.
FEDORA
” Who are these people? Are they with the man who will kill magical people?” I asked, aiming another arrow. I reach into my quiver for a arrow. I cursed under my breath.
” No more arrows!” I said. ” Do you happen to have a sword lying around anywhere?” Erasmo grabbed a dagger and tossed it to me. Renier was trying to summon some protection magic. I cut and sliced and ducked and…
” Crap. My finger just got sliced off.” I muttered. Luckly it wasn’t my sword hand.
Erasmo:
My plan to launch a surprise attack on the magical man trying to kill us foiled, I turned my attention back to a more frontal assault. I procured another dagger from my numerous supply, and with one in each hand yelled, “Now, attack! Defend my home!”
Then I looked over and realized Fedora was a bit preoccupied picking up a severed digit to fight. Doesn’t make a difference, I thought, then turned my attention back to the fight, dodging a blow from the man, who had pulled out a wicked-looking serrated sword from his person. As I did my best to keep myself and Fedora alive while Renier crafted a hasty protection spell around us, shielding us from the worst blows. Meanwhile, Aramil was attempting to use magic to wrench the man’s collar from his throat. Even with all this effort, however, the man was still inflicting a lot of harm, and we were steadily losing ground.
((I’m switching to first person just because it feels a bit more natural to me.))
RHYS
They’re going to kill me. I know they are. I have to get out. I have to escape.
I get out of the bed they put me in. My head hurts, and walking is an effort, but there’s no time to lose. I look around for my knife, but it’s not there…
“Where are you going?” The voice comes from a man sitting in a chair a few feet from the bed.
“I’m escaping,” I explain.
“You don’t need to escape. You aren’t in Daggerford anymore. We don’t kill magical beings here. We rescued you.”
But he’s lying. Nobody rescues a half-elf.
I move toward the door.
RENIER
Renier crouched behind a crate, eyes squeezed shut, pressing her hands into the floor as she focused on streaming energy and healing power to Erasmo and Fedora. The effort was draining her own energy, and soon she found herself leaning against the dark wooden side of the crate, shaking hard and gasping for breath as she tried to summon more magic.
Swords clanged, and there was a short gasp of pain followed by muffled swearing. Renier twisted around and dodged a fireball – not so much dodging as flopping away from it – and caught a glimpse of Fedora picking up her severed finger.
Renier slid down behind the crate, swallowing hard. The protection barrier around her allies was starting to flicker. Or was that just her vision?
Concentrate. You can still help Fedora. Renier clenched her fists, shut her eyes, and blasted every last shred of healing power at the injured half-elf.
Fedora
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Renier pass out. I also notice my finger has grown back. I try to defend myself, but this dagger is very skinny, and without Renier’s protection, arrows keep on flying by my heart. Suddenly, one of the big scary men turns into a teacup. Erasmo takes the opportunity to smash it. The girl who pulled the transformation walked from behind him, or, should I say stumbled? She was muttering under her breath. I saw the arrows in the mens heart fly towards my quiver. I nod at her and start shooting and hooded guys. The girl crept away, and Erasmo was to busy fighting to see her. One of the men did though, but she muttered rapidly, ” I would turn you into a mug, instead you are now slug.” The man turned into a mindless slug. I wished I had some salt right now.
” I think that’s all. We should try to awaken Renier.” I said to Erasmo.
Aria winced as the man who had pinned her to the tree was suddenly shot in the back with an arrow, his dead weight now pinning her against the tree. She looked over the body to see the girl who had shot the arrow, and who was now proceeding to fight off the other attackers. However, she was slashed by a knife to her rib cage and hit her head on a rock, blacking out. Aria struggled and pushed the man’s body off of her with a great heave, just as the rest of the ruffians were confronting her two companions.
The other elf-girl began speaking in a weird accent to the rest of the attackers, including the man who still held the dark elf. It was hard to understand what she was saying, but the man seemed to think she had some authority over him. Without question, he released the dark elf, who crumpled to the forest floor.
“C’mon, mates, let’s go catch some more filth,” he said to his buddies, and the all turned and walked back through the edge of the woods into the town square.
Once they had disappeared from sight, Aria rushed over to the girl who lay unconscious, while the other two went to help the dark elf. “Hey,” she said, shaking the girl. “Can you hear me? Are you all right?” It took a bit of shaking, but after a minute the girl began to come to. She was still very disoriented and blood seeped from the gash in her side. Aria quickly tore a piece of fabric from the hem of her tunic and wrapped it around the girl’s midriff, temporarily staunching the wound. It wouldn’t do for long.
“Wh-what happened…” the girl mumbled.
“You were fighting and you took a hit to the skull by a particularly nasty rock. You also got cut. We need to get you some help.” Aria scooped the girl up into her arms without pretense. “You also saved my life. thank you.”
“No problem,” she muttered. “In case it matters, I’m Gemina.”
“I’m Aria, nice to make your acquaintance.” Aria carried the girl over to the other three. The elf girl and Malcolm had him standing, at least, but he still seemed disoriented and he was bleeding from several cuts on his face and arms. “We have to find some shelter, and fast. They need medical attention. Come on, follow me.” Aria led the way out of the forest.
The ragtag group stayed close to the walls of the buildings. Aria knew exactly where they needed to go. There was an inn nearby, owned by a the father of Christopher, a boy she had known from about town. They had plenty of room and were skilled healers. It was their best shot at shelter and a cure for the elf and for Gemina. They slunk around the edge of the square and through the doors of the inn, and it was only by chance that they weren’t spotted.
They burst through the door, quickly shutting it behind them “Help, please, we need some help,” she said.
((Cue Kittymine! ))
((Actually, his father doesn’t own the inn, they’re just staying there for the night. But it would make sense of Aria to know them since Christopher and his father are circuit healers. And in terms of nearby, it’s the next town over.))
RENIER
Renier woke up just as Fedora and Erasmo came toward her. She felt lightheaded and sick, but pushed herself into a sitting position as they approached. She noticed Fedora’s finger had grown back.
“Are the hooded guys gone?” she asked urgently. Out the window, the town still flickered with flames. “If you two are okay, we should move.”
((Renier will learn some actual battle magic soon. Maybe when the magic users put together their resistance, they can all learn some.))
((What should our group do now? Should we help out in the town, try to find the rest of the people. or just wander around fighting?))
Erasmo:
“Let’s get out of here before the fire spreads,” I say, looking wistfully at what had been my home. I had an ugly feeling the next time I saw this place, nothing would be left but ashes.
“Quickly!” Renier shouts, jolting me from my thoughts.
“I’ll stay in the shadows and give a dagger to anyone who attacks us,” I say, exiting the building and stepping into a darker alleway just beside where we were walking.
“There’s an inn in a nearby town where we might find a respite from the cult. We should head there as soon as possible.” said Fedora, still walking at a quick pace.
We all walked for a while with our heads down, trying to attract as little notice as possible from those who would kill us. This was easier for me, since I was dressed in all black and only a bit more than half the height of my companions.
Around us, chaos reigned. There was fire everywhere, and groups of people marching around ordering the “demon-worshippers and filth” to come out and reveal themselves. Those foolish enough to do so were killed in various gruesome ways.
Eventually though, we got to the gate of the city. While I snuck out of sight, Renier and Fedora attempted to get past the guard, who was obviously part of the cult.
“No one leaves until they have been checked!” The guard sneered, his upper lip curling back in a glare.
“We’re just poor travelers, sir, trying to escape the city…” Fedora said, putting on her best sad face.
At this point I step out of the shadows with my hood over my face and say in a high-pitched voice, “Please, mister, gramma wouldn’ like it if we was late!”
The little-kid act seemed to work, and the guard let us through the gate warily, watching us as we exited and made out way to the inn.
((Okay… we have Erasmo, Renier, and Fedora; Malcolm, Gemina, Aleina, Aria, and Ensalagu. Renier passed out from magic use, Fedora lost a finger but it is now regrown, Gemina was slashed across the ribs and knocked out, and Ensalagu is covered with cuts and bruises, etc.
I think I have this straight.))
CHRISTOPHER
“Where are you going?” were the first words that I registered the next morning. I rolled over. The half-elf was out of bed and heading toward the door, looking frightened. I jumped up and put a calming hand on his arm.
“Sir, you are in no position to go anywhere.” The use of the word ‘sir’ seemed to startle him, enough for me to steer him gently back to the bed.
“You’ve just been healed, but you need to rest Mr. – ”
“My name is Rhys, I am no sir, and I have to go. Nobody rescues a half elf!”
Before I could dissuade him otherwise, I heard a yell from downstairs.
“Help, please, we need some help!”
‘That poor innkeeper,’ I thought as I ran downstairs again. I was met by a group of five, two of whom were being supported by the others.
“My god…” I muttered to myself. The innkeeper, who had poked his head out of the kitchen at the commotion, said, “The room next to yours is free at this point, Mr. Quentin. It’s a big one – several beds.” I thanked him gratefully and ushered the group up the stairs. I poked my head into my room.
“Father, we’ve got a big group in the room next door. How’s – ” I broke off as I noticed Rhys in the bed, asleep.
“I think I got him convinced, but I had to give him a sleeping draught in order to get him to rest,” explained Father. “I’ll be in there in a minute.” I nodded and hurried away.
The adjacent room held four beds, a table, a washroom, and several chairs. The two worst injured had already been placed on the beds and the others had pulled up chairs.
“Names, please,” I said, gesturing to the two on the beds.
“The boy is Ensalagu and the girl is Gemina,” said Aria, who I recognized. “I’m Aria, and the others are Malcolm and Aleina.” I nodded and walked over the Gemina, who appeared to be more seriously injured.
“Aria, please go into the room nextdoor and get the bucket that is sitting there,” I called over my shoulder, busy staunching the bleeding on Gemina’s torso. She hurried out, returning moments later with the bucket, filled with clear water. I added a few herbs from my kit and worked at cleaning Gemina up. Once her wounds were clean, I took a deep breath and summoned up the magic. This was going to be harder than Rhys, who’s cuts hadn’t been too deep. My right hand shimmered with an iridescent hue and I placed in against Gemina’s side. Slowly but steadily the muscle and skin regrew and knit back together. I took a long draught from the water skin at my side before healing the gash on Gemina’s head. When that gash closed I sat back, panting slightly. Gemina smiled and I returned the gesture.
“Let me get you some water,” I said, rummaging through my kit. I took out a second water skin and handed it to her. She took a drink and handed it back. She settled back into the pillow and within a few moments was fast asleep. I smiled to myself as I pulled her blanket up – water mixed with a sleeping draught was always useful.
I turned around to face the others sitting in chairs (Father having already attended to Ensalagu). They all looked tired and a bit scratched up, but nothing serious. I pulled up chair across from them.
“So what exactly has been going on?” I asked. I kept the desperation out of my voice. “I heard some of the other diners talking about some preacher that’s been whipping up a following against magical beings, but this seems to be more than just that.”
((Ack, that should be, “persuade him otherwise”, not “dissuade”))
((Esgalanu, for future reference.
Is Esgalanu unconscious, or just badly injured?))
((Sugar, Sugar, Sugar!!!! Sorry!)))
((SFTDP – I forgot to answer your question. He is no longer injured at the moment, having just been healed by Christopher’s father. His state of consciousness is up to you.))
Thankfully, Christopher was able to heal Gemina and his father attended Esgalanu. Once they were done healing and the injured were rested, he pulled a chair up next to Aria and the others.
“So what exactly has been going on?†he asked. “I heard some of the other diners talking about some preacher that’s been whipping up a following against magical beings, but this seems to be more than just that.â€
“To be honest, I am not entirely sure,” Aria replied. “The square was just complete pandemonium this morning. There was a riot amongst the townspeople, and, I noticed, several strangers dressed in black robes, who were engulfing and trying to maim or kill anyone who appeared to have magical powers.” She shook her head. “Someone’s really out to obliterate the race of magic.”
((You guys… I just said that the gates were closed and the guards were out. Can haz attention?))
((Eh…the main gates were closed but they kept a few smaller ones open because people were still trying to get out.))
((But why would they want people to be able to get out?))
Lysander watched a group emerge from the woods. It was immediately clear that several were injured, including the one with bronze hair.
How much saving does that girl need? she thought, then approached the group. They didn’t seem too frightened of a lone girl, but they still seemed very wary.
“Don’t worry, I’m not with the Zealastre people,” she said as way of introduction. “Two injured? How badly?”
“Um, we think they’ll live as long as we get them to town soon,” a girl replied. “None of us have enough medicine–we need to get to town for that.”
“There’s none left that you can buy legally,” Lysander said. “The Zealastroids have already been through here. There’s a blockade on all magical items. But I can help.”
“I really don’t mean to be rude, but why are you helping us? You don’t even know us,” the girl said.
Lysander smiled. “I’m just nice like that.”
After they got into the inn Lysander immediately went in search of the slums. She walked around until she saw an old, stooped woman on a street corner.
“Hello, dearie,” the woman croaked. She was obviously part pixie.
“Healing salve, please. Make it the good kind.”
“Oh, now, dearie, we don’t sell that anymore. Banned.”
“Oh please. Ten gold pieces.”
“Fifteen.
“Ten and five silvers. Funny how bread gets more expensive in troubled times, hmm?”
“You’re a miser, you know that? Come along.” Lysander followed her to her small shack, where the woman handed over two small pots.
“Wait a minute,” she said as Lysander turned to go. “You’re that girl. You work for the Hammer family, don’t you?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions,” she snapped, then left and returned to the inn. A few more people had come in, and the first pot was quickly used up. Finally, she went up to see Gemina.
Gemina was actually awake when Lysander knocked on the door.
“Come in,” she called, then brightened when she saw who it was. “You again!” she exclaimed. “How did you get out of Daggerford?”
“Through the gates.” Pause. “Everyone was interrogated, though. I had to lie.”
“Where are you heading?”
“The Capital.”
“Of course. Anyone who’s anyone lives in the Capital.”
Why did she have to be so perceptive? Or it could be an innocent statement.
“Where are you going once you’re better?”
“North. I have to warn my family…if they haven’t already been attacked. Do you really think these Zealastre people can wipe out over half this country’s population? Are they really capable of that?”
“I think people are capable of anything,” Lysander said quietly, then went back downstairs.
“Not only migec,” I added, quietly, once the girl who had wanted to talk to–Gemina, wasn’t it? left. I had been waiting in the hall as Christopher healed, not wanting to cause any…erm, accidents, but now I slunk back in. “They’re tryeng to wepe out migecil rices too. A hive no migec, but they were tryeng to get me too.”
“And someone set the town on fire,” put in Renier. “We still don’t know if it was magical or not, but it spread faster than any normal fire. It could just have had special chemicals added or something, but it definitely looked like a fireball spell.” She had only a few scratches and bruises from the town riot, and was waiting for her own magic to restore itself.
((So that was us in post 91, right? Just making sure))
Erasmo:
“What we’d really like right now is a safe place to sleep for the night, away from any group that begins with a Z.” I said, proffering a few gold pieces.
The inn looked safe enough, as quite a few magical creatures seemed to be walking around, and though they looked at us warily, they seemed to be at relative ease within the confines of the inn.
((I think it was actually the other group, but it doesn’t matter particularly. You were all heading for the same place, after all.))
((Is it too late for me to join? Can I? Please?))
((Of course you can join.))
((Thank you. ))
((SFTDP: Jumping in now. Will post character bio later.))
LARA
Fire.
It was all around me. I ducked a falling post engulfed in flames, wishing eyebrows didn’t scorch so easily. Somehow I had escaped permanent damage, but I would be trapped soon…
When the fire had stopped, a man in robes approached me.
“This is why we should eliminate the magic-users!” he exclaimed. “To stop from dirtying up the world!
He stared at me. “You will join, of course?”
I gulped.
“Um, coming!” I yelled into the distance to nobody, and scurried off.
Voices came into earshot.
“…definetly looked like a fireball spell.” Ranier was saying. “But the question is, who did it?”
I walked up to them. “Um, excuse me?…” I said.
((Will post more tomorrow.))
Ianthe:Â
I was probably in for some trouble. Especially once they figured out that I had no such uncle in Daggerford. But I could probably figure out a suitable story if pressed. I wasn’t that worried.
We were riding north at a fairly good clip, and I was beginning to enjoy myself again. The knight whose horse I was riding seemed quite taken with me, to the extent that he could hardly speak, which was flattering, and the rain was letting up, which was pleasing. I amused myself by teasing Ser Robert gently and perhaps encouraging his infatuation slightly, in an utterly innocent and apropriate fashion. Between this and planning, the trip passed more quickly than I ever could have imagined.
CHRISTOPHER
I sat there, reeling slightly, as the increasing group of outcasts from Daggerford told me what had been going on. This cult was trouble with a capital T.
““What we’d really like right now is a safe place to sleep for the night, away from any group that begins with a Z,” said Erasmo.
“Well, this inn will do for tonight, I suppose,” I replied. “Especially since a few people are still recovering. But tomorrow morning we should all move out. The Zealastre won’t remain in Daggerford for long. And many of you probably have family, friends, or other relations to warn.”
I thought of my family, of Mother and Cecelia and little Tabetha. Father and I needed to warn them. Not that they had any magic necessarily, but Father and I certainly did, which would put them in danger.
((That rhymes with Z))
Erasmo:
As Fedora, Renier and I settle down for a much-needed nights sleep, we all hear banging and shouting from the ground floor of the inn. I clear, distinct voice rings out, “This is the Inquisition of Zealastre! All those who use the dark forces of magic must turn themselves in immediately or be killed!”
Turn yourself in to be killed or just be killed, you mean I thought grimly, jumping up and putting on my cloak.
“Lets get out of here!” I said, pointing to a nearby window.
Renier, however, took the more philanthropic approach. “We need to help those people down there!” She yelled, grabbing her weapon and running towards the door.
I sighed quickly, then sprinted after her, sticking to the wall and melding with the shadows as best I could. Eventually we got downstairs and saw a full blown battle raging, with neither side seeming to gain any ground.
((For clarification, Alee was already staying at the inn, in a tiny room. When/how are we going to introduce the undead? Perhaps we should figure it out, even if it’s too soon–just so that we can direct the plot in That General Direction, or perhaps foreshadow a bit.))
I curled up in the inn bed, relishing the warmth of the blanket. I supposed, of course, that this was to be expected; the only smart thing to do was to get out of Daggerford as fast as a horse could go. I wondered, however, where I could go–not to Serbera, that was certain–and how I would manage to get there. I had little money and no friends, despite the temporary alliance I appeared to have formed with these people. Well, I would figure it out in the morning, if I managed to survive. I yawned and closed my eyes.
Suddenly they shot open again; I was wide awake–like a call to arms, the banging on the inn door was a signal. I needed to get out of here, fast. I leaped up from the bed, not caring that the blankets ended up in a tangled heap around my feet, and grabbed my cloak and sword. My pouch of money and valuables was already around my neck. The door creaked as I attempted to make a speedy exit, and I winced at the sound. The crashes and shrieks of a raging battle drifted up the stairs, and, despite wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, I hesitated. My plan was to sneak out using the back door, but, for one thing, there was sure to be people blocking it, and for another, there were people down there who clearly needed some help–I recognized the tones of the boy I had seen earlier, when Christopher was healing, just for a start.
My mind made up, I drew my sword and proceeded to dash down the stairs.
((Just a general note to all: the inn is NOT in Daggerford, it is in the next town over.))
((Anyone here still involved with the fire? I’m groping in the dark here… I would post but I don’t know what to say.))
((I believe that all who were involved have escaped the hooded guys and relocated to an inn which is in the next town over.))
CHRISTOPHER
Unfortunately, plans to leave at dawn were again squelched. I woke up in the middle of the night to yet another burst of pounding on the inn door.
“This is the Inquisition of Zealastre! All those who use the dark forces of magic must turn themselves in immediately or be killed!â€
Evidently, the Zealastre had wasted no time in moving on to the other towns near Daggerford. Judging by the sounds coming from the dining area, they had broken in and entered.
I grabbed my pack and slung it over my shoulders. Part of me was yelling at me to flee, but a larger part knew that I needed to help those fighting downstairs, to help get them out of there.
Or at least keep them from dying.
Esgalanu
I awoke to find myself in bed, healed of all injuries. The last thing I remembered was being beaten by those cult guys… what was there name? Suddenly I heard a voice. “This is the Inquisition of Zealastre! All those who use the dark forces of magic must turn themselves in immediately or be killed!†Zealastre. That was it. Cursing, I grabbed my bow, which was lying by my bed, and my hunting knife. It was time for revenge.
((I had an idea and I’ll start writing in the necromancer and undead tomorrow (hopefully).))
((yay!))
(( Wait, what? Can Aleria be almost killed by the Zealastre?))
FEDORA
I refilled my quiver and raced after everyone. A girl, a bit younger than me, was shaking right under the Zealastre’s sword. Before I know what I’m doing, there’s an arrow in his neck. When did I get so murderous? I ask myself. I decide the threat of death did it. The girl blinked up at me.
” Are you okay? Hey, your the girl who helped me at the shop! Can you..you know.” The girl nodded.
ALERIA
Maybe I could turn a few men into slugs? Or turtles? I don’t know. I see
a group of people who the girl, Fedora, she tells me. As some were battling, I aimed a hex at one man.
No hiding behind boxes this time, Renier thought as she shot a glowing ball of energy at a Zealastre, knocking him off his feet and onto someone’s sword. She darted around the room, dodging arrows as she conjured protection barriers.
A long knife flashed silver through the air, thrown by one of the Zealastre. It was deflected by someone’s shield and clattered to the ground, where Renier scrambled to pick it up. Seconds later an identical knife whistled through the air, inches from her face, and stuck in the wood floor. Ducking a Zealastre’s sword, she yanked the second knife out of the ground.
Suddenly feeling safer with two blades in her hands, Renier slashed her way through the battle, deflecting blows.
Aleria
As a man came near, I punched him in the gut. While he was distracted, I muttered a spell on one of the ropes holding somebody down. It hissed at the Zealastres, then morphed into a cobra.
” FILTHY MAGIC USER!” The man yells at me. ” SURRENDER!”
He’s met with a arrow. So much for surrender. The girl who was tied up ran out, only to be met by another Zealastre. The girl, about 6, was killed immediately. I turned a nearby stone into a small bull, using all of my energy.
LANYING ZAI-LIN
There’s a few people sticking to the shadows, but hey, battle is fun. There’s too many magic-users in this inn; and it bothers me – why not submit? It just means you need to control what you do! Lots of them are reckless, and they need to be stopped.
Anyway, back to the three running downstairs! A quick, concentrated burst of light flame gives the wall above their heads a light scorch…a warning shot. Just to let them know they’ve been spotted-and then I turn back to the fight, hot fire concentrated on the tip of my dagger. The handler is nearby, watching and holding his own; he’s fine.
WAIT AUGH WHAT WHEN DID SOME GIRL GET TWO BLADES
That calls for a sharp blast of flame, dagger still held in my other hand, but she’s not taking me down.
LARA
I am standing in the wreckage when I realize that the people have all gone, and, feeling foolish, I head over to the inn, which is in chaos.
Zealestre supporters were everywhere, battling the strange assortment of people, who seemed to be mostly magic-users. As usual, I’m completely confused.
What the…
In the chaos, nobody notices me jump in-except, of course, for the Zealestre whom I fight with my knife until he ducks what should have been a death blow and runs for his life.
“COWARD!” I shout after him, then glance around for my next opponent.
((It’s been a while, but now you’re all in one place. Pity.))
Ser Walter, High Constable of the Knights of Ardor
“Feel the faith! Feel His righteous divinity inside you,†I commanded the series of kneeling warriors beside me. The nearby roofs and streets less than a block away from the newest insurgence had formed a chanting congregation. It had been a long day of riot crushing, prisoner incarcerating, and the occasional sub-race killing, so with the latest arrival of reinforcements, the Knights of Ardor felt the need for a demonstration. The once quiet inn hummed with the chorus of combat as the initial assault groups charged inside, but they were merely pawns.
The synchronized chanting became a unified buzzing, slowly growing louder as the battle raged on. Suddenly, Zealastre’s presence began to manifest itself. Two luminous rings seemed come into fruition around the building and quickly begin to rotate about the edifice like a pair of phantom jump ropes. The vast brilliance gained speed, surpassing all human ability to tell the gyrating halos apart. The inn seemed to be surrounded by a churning sphere of arcane light when all at once the chanters ceased. The orb imploded, plunging the arena back into darkness. No one spoke, and then the inn erupted into golden light. It poured from the windows, seeped through every imperfection, and bathed the nearby buildings in its radiance. Screams emanated from the glowing structure, and I with a companion of thoughtfully chosen combatants charged into the fray.
Wrenching the backdoor from its hinges, we charged in laying waste to the shocked insurrectionists. A blonde haired 12 year old was halted in her attempts to enchant a boulder, her now golden skin shining as the raw mana within her burned in her veins. Artfully I cut the child down, my two handed sword detaching much of her body from the waist up. A second gleaming blonde was felled, attempting to maintain a deteriorating barrier while she met a similar fate at the hands of one of my seconds. A glowing boy toppled down the stairs, obviously in the process of joining the fight, but was overcome by Zealastre’s fury.
The remaining non magical combatants did their best to regroup as their fellows endured the curse that their magic represented. Our initial opponents vanquished, we imbued our swords with lightning and met their renewal head on to devastating effect. Cutting down a knife wielding dark elf, I called loudly to the dwindling defenders of the inn.
“As Zealastre’s heralds, we seek to grant you mercy,†I shouted, “Do you accept?â€
((Muhahahahahaha!))
((Hmm…interesting. So does this mean that most of our characters are dead? Or did they somehow evade the giant golden light?))
((No no no, no one is dead. I’m not trying to kill anyone’s characters.
The golden light is painful to magic users, and without sufficient willpower their abilities/actions are compromised. Any character who was stabbed or felled as it were could still be healed.
I’m sorry. I would never PP that much.))
((Phew. I didn’t think you would ever PP that much, but just to make sure, you know.))
((Just as my character returns from injury…))
Renier
A ribbon of white-hot flame blasted over Renier’s head. She dropped to the ground, hearing the air sizzle above her, and for a few seconds was trampled on by heavy boots and singed by ricocheting spells before she pulled herself up, managing to reconstruct her magic shield.
The flat of a blade scraped painfully against her ribs, and Renier whipped around, slashing her knives at the attacker.
“Suppose you didn’t expect that,” snarled the Zealastre as he swung his sword at her again and again. She leapt from side to side with her blades crossed in front of her, avoiding the sharp metal by inches. “You magic users, all so arrogant – yet you never expect the Zealastrian Inqui -”
Renier shot a concentrated blocking spell from one of her knives, channeling the energy through the thin blade. The Zealastre stumbled backward several yards, giving someone else time to stab at him.
((Wait, sorry, please ignore that post. I didn’t see Bismarck’s post.))
((I love the “never expect the Zealastrian Inquisition” line ))
Aleria
” Mercy? On what terms? ” I asked.(( What do you mean ” cut the child up? I am confuzzeled.If she’s dead, ignore this post.))
((She has a really bad gut wound, but she is still alive.))
((I just realized I haven’t posted a character bio yet. So here goes:
Lara has been wandering around (which makes her no different from any of my other characters) and finds herself caught up in this. She has basic magical powers but does not know where they come from.
Age: 13
Hair: Brown, shoulder length, scraggly from lack of brushing
Eyes: Green
Height: Small for her age. Around five feet.
Sorry. I’ve been busy.))
LARA
The blinding gold light seems to radiate something intense, which I can’t quite place. Slowly, I lower my knife, feeling weak. I look down and realize I’m glowing.
I’ve heard about these! They cancel out magical powers…
So why am I affected?
CHRISTOPHER
Father had already run down the stairs to assist. I was about to follow when I heard a loud humming. I peered out the window and saw two large golden halos surrounding the inn, and getting closer with each rotation. I shuddered, some part of me realizing that the glow meant nothing good.
I was right.
The inn was suddenly filled with gold and I burned. I felt as though something was boiling inside of me. I could hardly contain my scream of agony.
‘It’s the magic’ said my instinct. ‘This golden power is forcing it to hurt you, trying to render you immobile, unable to fight. You must fight the power! There are people who need your healing magic!’
((By the way, Bismark, how long does this golden glow last?))
((This is right before the Zealastreborgs got to the inn.))
Lysander paced the upstairs landing of the inn, unable to sit still. Something was wrong, or something was coming; all her instincts were screaming at her to leave NOW. Making up her mind, she knocked on Gemina’s door.
“Come in,” Gemina called. She was up and dressed.
“We have to leave,” Lysander said.
“Leave? What do you mean, leave?”
“Something’s wrong, and you’re in no condition to fight. No, don’t play tough. Elves heal slower than humans.”
“And you know this because…?”
Lysander shoved the window open and looked out. She could see the flags of the Zealastrozoids approaching, and some were already in the streets. There was a ladder running up the side of the building. She swung herself out the window.
“Come on!” She hissed at Gemina. After a second of hesitation, Gemina grabbed her things and followed her up. They climbed up ten feet and then jumped onto the roof. They kept low–best not to make themselves targets. Fighting broke out below them, and they inched along to the other end. They leaped and landed on the neighboring roof. They could hear shouts and the sound of fighting from the inn and in the streets.
“We have to go back,” Gemina whispered.
“No. It won’t be any use,” Lysander whispered back. “I’m sure they would love to kill you, Lady Astellor.”
“How did you know?” Gemina whispered.
“Please. Your face, the quality of your weapons, practically everything about you screams “Elvish noble family.” Now MOVE.”
But Gemina couldn’t move. The soldiers had started humming during this conversation and now a golden glow was surrounding the inn. Gemina’s face was twisted in pain. It was all she could do to not scream and give away their position.
“Fight it, Gemina!” Lysander whispered. She was starting to feel the tiniest bit of fear now. This wasn’t something she could fight. Then, slowly, Gemina relaxed and opened her eyes.
“Let’s go,” she said. They ran and leaped onto the last roof, then jumped two stories to the ground. Staggering, they ran for the forest that was right by the town. Twenty feet into the trees, they collapsed.
“How did you do that? Fight the magic, I mean?” Lysander asked.
“I was trained. We all were,” Gemina replied. “That particular spell cancels out magic, but not necessarily the rest of your strength or abilities. You just have to remember that and put away your magic for a while until you get out of range. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like you forget about your magic for a while. It’s difficult.”
“Impressive,” Lysander said. “Really.”
“Thanks. And so are you. You’ve saved my life twice now.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
((SFTDP but I completely forgot to write about the necromancer.))
The Hammer house was not too far from the royal palace in the Capital. It was a tall, grey, imposing building that seemed more like a fortress than a wealthy merchant manor, despite the beautiful architecture and lush front gardens. Thurgood Hammer had made his fortune when a passage to the Middle Sea had been found and had bought the house to establish his position in capital affairs. Soon, the Hammer family had its fingers in all sorts of business, not all of them legal. Thurgood’s son had carried on the tradition, and now the family was quite wealthy. The whole extended family lived in the town house or in the sprawling country estate. The family was rich but not lazy, power-power-hungry but proud. Still stinging from the snubs of the landed rich and nobility, the Hammer family was determined to gain power without licking the boots of the failing king. Time for something new. It was this family that had adopted Lysander when she was dumped on their doorstep and turned her into a deadly weapon.
“I’m so glad you could come,” Forsyth (Thurgood’s son) said to the hooded man. It was midnight, and they were in Forsyth’s study.
“Your offer is…interesting,” the man said. “Tell me again why I should accept.”
“We have much to offer each other,” Forsyth said. “You have power–or at least the potential to do a great deal. I can help you manage.”
“What makes you think I want a country?” the necromancer asked.
“You do. You know as well as I that other countries will quickly be up in arms against an obvious plague that they can fight, but if all they see is a change in regime directed by yours truly, they will be easier to handle. It will be easier to gain their trust and later destroy.”
A shadow of a smile showed on the necromancer’s face. “I am interested,” he said. “My reply will come later.” He stood up to go, and Forsyth showed him out.
((Basically, the evil necromancer wants to take over the world with zombies or something, right? Anyway, Forsyth Hammer is offering his services in running the government because the necromancer doesn’t want to be bothered with silly details like that. If they pull a coup and put Forsyth on the throne with the necromancer behind the scenes, they can start messing with other countries and exploiting them instead of destroying them with zombies right away. Make sense?))
((Makes sense to me. Sounds great!))
((How long does this golden glow last, anyway?))
((sorry I haven’t posted in a while. This thread seems to have lost some of it’s original momentum, though.))
Erasmo:
I winced and squinted as the glow hit my eyes, and felt a slight twinge, but with my almost nonexistent magic it didn’t affect me much. Soon my eyes adjusted and I continued my deadly rain of sneak attacks. I became more confident as I realized that it’s a lot easier to sneak up on people who are squinting against the bright light, as many of my enemies were. The battle was by no means going well, though. All around me, people were taking hits and some were dropping. I had taken my fair share of wounds too, especially a particularly vicious one in my knife arm, weakening my blows. One man I snuck up on turned around and saw me, and we began a deadly dance, his broadsword giving him more length and power. I had two weapons but even with my daggers, I was weakening and knew I would soon make a deadly mistake. I ran forward as though to strike, and in the moment he flinched, I grabbed a glass flask from my cloak and threw it in his face. My aim was true, and the glass shattered. The man screamed as as acid covered his face, and I watched my adversary fall.
I could not stop to watch long, though, and I leapt back to join the battle.
((by the way, my Erasmo has always wanted a trinket that would allow him to become invisible.))
The battle was starting again. I picked up my knife, and realized that the golden glow couldn’t stop me from moving.
After resting about half an hour, Lysander and Gemina started on their way towards the capital. They kept to the woods, following the road. About an hour later, they heard the sounds of horses and people up ahead. Hidden in the forest, they watched about one hundred imperial soldiers ride by. Lysander let out a deep breath when they passed.
“I agree, that last one was handsome,” Gemina said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. And I’m not interested anyway.”
Feeling off balance for perhaps the first time in her life, Lysander started walking again. A large contingent of imperial soldiers was a very good thing. At least, it showed that the monarchy was not going to let this Zealastriacake run amok. As long as they kept fighting each other, the crown’s attention would be off of the Hammer family and Lysander. The Zealastribops were actually a hidden blessing. If humans continued to persecute magical races, it would be far easier to persuade those magical races to fight on the necromancer’s side.
Gemina was also pondering the appearance of royal soldiers. The crown had adopted a hands-off policy towards the magical races in the land. As long as they paid their taxes like other inhabitants of the kingdom, the government took no interest in them. It was unlikely that they government was out to protect magical races, but perhaps they could be moved to offer protection against unjust persecution.
As evening fell they were in sight of the Capital, but the city gates would already be closed. They would enter with the early morning crowd of farmers.
((The battle at the inn has gone on for a while, so if anyone feels like writing in soldiers breaking up the fight, go right on ahead.))
((Bismark, I’m making up an amount of time that this glow last just so I can post. If you have a better idea time wise, I’ll change it later))
CHRISTOPHER
I realized that it wasn’t the gold power that was rendering me immobile, it was the fact that the gold power was trying to cancel out my magical powers. My own resistance was keeping me from moving. I stood frozen, grappling with the gold power so as to retain my magic, for about 5 minutes. Then the light faded and the pain left. I quickly pulled my water skin and a breadroll out of my pack and gobbled them down. I wanted to make sure that I would not pass out while trying to heal other people. And judging by the sound coming from downstairs, it might be a lot of people. Then I tested my magic stores by nicking my finger and healing it over. It seemed like I had a slight drain, but hopefully the food would help restore my magic to it’s regular levels.
I was distracted by the sound of hoofbeats. I peeked out the window again. I blinked a few times to make sure that I wasn’t seeing things. Imperial soldiers. I heard them enter downstairs. I crawled across my room and crouched at the top of the stairs, watching. The imperial soldiers were attacking the Zealastre, forcing them to leave. Odd…
((I’ll post more later – gotta run!))
((Just a side note: the imperial soldiers aren’t attacking the Zealastre soldiers because the crown doesn’t like the Zealastre thing, they’re just quelling the riot and trying to keep the peace. That’s all.))
((122- Thanks!))
CHRISTOPHER
I shrugged. The soldiers were likely just keeping the peace. Despite the fact that swords were still clashing downstairs, I crawled quickly down the steps and slid over to the nearest injured victim. It appeared that someone had been pulling the injured over to the shadows of the sidelines – Father, most likely. Indeed, he was kneeling about three feet away tending to someone else. I quickly turned my attention to the girl lying in front of me who was unconscious, covered in blood, and hardly breathing. She had been practically cut in two – it was a miracle that she was still alive. I quickly pushed the magic out, watching the muscles and skin mend. Sweat poured down my face but I kept at it. I needed to save her life. When her breathing normalized again I leaned back in the shadows, breathing heavily, completely exhausted. The Zealastre were essentially gone at this point.
But there was one.
There was one Zealstre who noticed what Father was doing. He lunged toward Father with his sword. I tried to call out, but my body would not respond.
The sword went straight through Father’s back. Once, twice, three times, four times. He yelled with pain and slumped over whoever he was healing, shimmering magic already starting to surround him. The Zealastre laughed, but was then forcibly removed from the inn by an imperial soldier.
Energy surged back into my limbs. I crawled over to Father. His eyes were glazed with an iridescent shimmer, but he knew and I knew that he was dying. There wasn’t enough magic in him to heal the damage.
“No!” I cried, placing my hand on his back, trying to summon up my magic.
It wouldn’t come. I had used all that I had on the girl I just saved. The golden power had depleted the rest.
“No, no…” I moaned, tears pouring down my face. Father looked at me tenderly.
“Christopher…. take it….” He held out his hands to me, where a shimmering ball was already forming.
“Take…it….It can’t….help… me….but you….can save…another….life…with it….”
Shaking, I put my hand on top of the ball. I felt my body absorb the ball, absorb it all, until Father’s body no longer shimmered.
“I love you…Christopher.”
“Wait!” I cried, my hand poised to use my newly acquired magic to heal Father, to heal them all. But before I could touch him, he took a last shuddering breath and was still.
“Father…” I whispered, sobbing uncontrollably. But I knew that he had gone somewhere where I couldn’t call him back. His last words echoed through my head.
‘You can save another life’
I pushed myself up and forced myself to look around, to see who I could help. I moved along the edge of the room from person to person, helping where I could, drinking water and eating bread in between to keep my strength up. For a few, it was too late.
Just as it was for Father.
I had blacked out, due to loss of blood.
Dead. I’ll be dead. And then, a boy came and healed me, saving my life.
Thank you, Thank you so much. I think.
By now the soldiers are gone.
Fedora
I tell the others I would like to stand guard. They nod, and I stand outside the inn.
The battle had subsided. I sighed in relief. The boy whose father had been killed was tending to the injured. I stepped over a body, trying to find someone who could explain everything to me. Who were these people? What was the golden glow? How was I connected to all of this? The questions were infinite.
Renier
Renier moved from one injured person to the next, bandaging wounds and casting a thin layer of healing magic over them. She felt drained and anxious, still shaking from the effect of the golden glow, but forced herself to help her allies.
At least she had weapons now. The two blades – knives? Swords? – were identical, each almost as long as her arm, with leather-wrapped grips and thin, sharp silver blades. Admittedly she had no idea how to use them beyond “aim the pointy end at the scary looking undead soldiers”, but it was better than being unarmed.
((Maybe it could be like Dumbledore’s Army, where they all teach each other the essential fighting and magic skills?))
Erasmo:
Now that the fight was over, I stopped skulking in the shadows and went out to survey the damage.
Renier came up to me and said, “Some of those cuts look nasty…”
She raised her arms in preparation for healing, but I pushed them down, saying, “There are those worse injured than me. Tend to them first.”
She shrugged and slowly walked away. All around me, there were groans of the injured, and I started pacing, trying to clear my mind.
Eventually I went downstairs and met up with Fedora, and helped her stand guard.
Esgalanu
After some kind person healed me, I got up again. My weapons were still lying beside me, and I picked them up and slid to the corner of the room. These people were on my side, I guess, but I was still wary of them.
((Esgalanu was unconscious when he first met everyone else, and awoke only to be “cut down” (thanks, Bismarck). So, he doesn’t know anyone. I think this is funny.))
((Indeed ))
((Hey he knows my blade.))
In the corner of a room, I found another person who looked just as confused as I was.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Esganlanu.”
“Any idea what’s going on here?”
“Not really.”
“Are these people magic users?”
“Of course.”
CHRISTOPHER
It took about two hours to heal those who could be, move the dead, and clear up the room. Many of those who could stand had decided to join those now standing guard outside the inn. Upon completion of the clean up, everyone gathered in the dining area for a meeting. The innkeeper stood up first.
“I must express my sincere regret for the scene that took place here a few hours since. I advise you all to leave with haste and get as far away as you can. Luckily, we have around 15 horses in the stables, which should be enough for all of you to escape on, though you may have to double up. Provisions for your journeys are at the bar. And thank you for helping clear up. That is all I have to say.” He sat down.
The meeting broke up. I walked over to the innkeeper and shook his hand.
“You have been kinder than anyone could have imagined,” I said, gripping his hand tightly. “Thank you.” I handed him a few gold pieces. He shook his head, pushing them back toward me, but I forced them into his fist.
“On behalf of us all, I ask you to take this. Thank you.” I turned away to collect my share of food.
LARA
People seemed to be leaving, so I followed, feeling slightly awkward. I hadn’t been able to really talk to anyone and figure out what was going on, so Esgalanu and I just went with the crowd. Silently, I snuck out behind the stables where I had hidden my horse (I didn’t want anyone to know I was here if there should be enemies at the inn), and prepared to leave.
” I think we’re going.” I said to Erasmo, after standing guard outside the inn. Aleria ran into us and told us we were going to the stable, and we all prepared to leave.
Esgalanu
As we all left the inn, I brooded. All of these people used magic. Was I an outcast again? Pushing those thoughts out of my mind, I saddled my horse and prepared to evacuate.
I went with Fedora outside the inn to the stable. Inside, numerous horses trotted along and were being ushered out. Not concerned, I hopped on a pony and rode alongside Fedora as we went out the door.
“Where will we go? Will we fight or flee?” I asked.
“We have to stay and help!” Fedora said, riding off with the main crowd.
Sighing, I followed, my pony moving at a canter to keep up with the trot of the larger horses. We exited the stable and began heading toward the town.
I was still very confused. “Are we doing a mass attack or what?
For now though, I just followed the crowd.
((It’s not just my character that’s confused… Why are we all leaving, and where are we going?))
Finally, after many last minute preperations, we set off, me feeling slightly stalker-ish. I rode up to the one called Fedora (who seemed to know what was going on) and tried to get some answers as to what was happening.
((My character needs to know what’s going on. I already know the basic gist of it, but my character hasn’t really been properly introduced.))
ALEE
We saddled our horses and set off. I noticed the elf we had saved riding slightly apart from the others, and sped up a tiny bit until I was riding alongside him.
“Are you okay?” I asked; he had a..look on his face; it was half pain and half loneliness. “Did you get hurt in the fight?”
“I’m Alee,” I added, as an afterthought.
Of course, it was a terrible idea to talk to the elf, much less reveal my name, but I couldn’t help it…he wasn’t making my eyes water, after all, as almost everyone else was. It was fairly uncomfortable to be around the crowd of magic-users. Gritacttch those allergies…
And yet he was an elf and apparently didn’t have magic–or hadn’t used it for a long time. Interesting.
Lysander and Gemina joined the early morning stream of farmers entering the city at dawn. They had no problem getting in. The crowds grew the farther in the went–it was market day. Gemina followed Lysander through the narrow, twisting streets. The Capitol was full of different races and people of mixed origins, so Gemina couldn’t help but blend in. Lysander led her to the lower middle-class part of town and knocked on the door of a small, plain building. A thin man opened it.
“Greetings.”
“Greetings.”
“How was your voyage?”
“Fair winds in the South Seas. A quick journey.” Apparently this was the right thing to say because he swung the door open wider.
“Come in. What about this?”
“She’s with me.”
“Very well. Come in.” It was only a three-room apartment. Lysander went right to the dingy kitchen and kicked aside the rug. Underneath was a trapdoor. She opened it and quickly climbed down the ladder. Gemina followed. When the ladder ended, a passageway extended only in one direction, towards the center of the city. Lysander paused for a moment.
“May I ask where we’re going?” Gemina asked with a touch of acid in her voice.
“You’ll be safe,” Lysander said. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Sure.”
The tunnel was fairly damp, but solidly made. The girls jogged about two miles, guided by the soft shine of Lysander’s light-stone ((small enchanted pieces of quartz that hold light. Other stronger ones may be made of diamonds, crystals, etc, but quartz ones are fairly common.)). The tunnel began to slope up, and another ladder met them at the end.
Lysander pushed through another trapdoor, which led into a small stone room. “Then the king was lifted far above the city in his chariot and shown his domain,” Lysander shouted as soon as she climbed out of the hole. “Quickly! Repeat it!” Gemina repeated the line, an obscure phrase from an epic poem written about the war between humans and magical races when the humans first arrived. Lysander walked quietly out of the room and went up a short flight of stairs. The house was quiet and cool. Obviously whoever lived here had money, but weren’t about to throw it away on too much grandeur. Lysander went to the servants’ kitchen. An elderly woman was stirring a soup.
“Hey Rooster,” Lysander said, removing a few packets from her knapsack and throwing them on the counter. The old woman’s eyes lit up.
“Ronan salt and miltweed?” She said. “We could have bought this at the market.”
“Why buy it when you can steal it for free?”
“Oh, you,” Rooster said affectionately. “Who is this?”
“A friend. The master will want to see her,” Lysander answered shortly. Just then, two large young men entered the kitchen.
“Blade!” The taller one yelped and crushed Lysander in a hug. The short one tugged at his sleeve, staring at Gemina. “Thom,” he whispered.
Thom set Lysander down to gawk. “She’s our guest,” Lysander snapped. “Find it in yourselves to show her some manners.” Thom ruffled Lysander’s badly cut hair and smiled at Gemina.
“Pardon us, miss,” he said, shoving Liam out the door. “We’ll just be going now.” He and Liam left. Lysander scowled after them.
“Sorry,” she said irately to Gemina. “Wait here a moment. I’ll be right back.” She left, and Gemina sat down at the plain table.
“Most think it’s a gift, but beauty can be a curse,” Rooster remarked.
“I’m used to it,” Gemina responded dryly.
((Hmm. That’s a long post but not much got done. Would anyone mind if I made a rough map and sent it in?))
((Okay…We’re all leaving because it is too dangerous to stay at the inn any longer. The Zealastre have been there once and could return at any time. However, I do think that we should stick together because there is strength in numbers and otherwise it is hard for our characters to communicate. Now we just need to figure out where we’re going.))
CHRISTOPHER
After collecting my provisions and making sure I had both my kit and Father’s kit, I went to the stables to get my horse. I decided to put Father’s covered body on his horse, tied securely, so that he could be buried properly when I reached home.
Everyone had started riding, and it was at that point that I realized that we hadn’t clarified where we were all going. I galloped ahead of everyone and called a halt.
“Okay, everyone, I just realized that we hadn’t particularly discussed where we’re all headed. It’s possible that we will split up, but are there any other ideas?”
Esgalanu
“Hurt, but healed,” I replied to the girl who called herself Alee. She looked vaguely elven, but much less so than many of the others here, myself included. “Why do you ask? My name is Esgalanu, by the way.”
“You just look… I don’t know… pained,” she said. I wasn’t sure how I could respond to that. I couldn’t admit that I couldn’t use magic. I would be an outcast again, just like I was with the dark elves.
“I’m fine,” I said.
((Thanks, Kittymine! That clears up a few things I was confused about. At least now I know that noone knows where we’re going.))
Erasmo:
“We need to find somewhere we can be safe from the cult!” Someone yelled, and there was a general nod in agreement.
Another person yelled, “Fight! They’re just lousy people with sharp things. We have the power of magic, and we can drive them out!”
The group seemed split just about down the middle, with some wanting to find a safe hideout and others wanting to fight. I just wanted to get them out, so I was leaning toward the fighting group, thinking we would be able to drive them out quickly then be in peace.
CHRISTOPHER
“How’s this for a compromise,” I called to the group. “We find someplace away from the Zealastre so we can have some haven, but also so we can prepare to fight them. I quite agree that we should drive them out. Incidentally, does anyone know if the the King knows what’s going on?”
((SFTDP, but I forgot to mention an idea. That is, that we find haven and get ready to fight and then we hear about the whole necromancer plot.))
LARA
I was all ready to fight the Zealestre, but hiding out and planning sounded fine.
ALEE
“That sounds good,” I called to Christopher. “I have no idea about the King, however.”
“I’m sorry I can’t heal you, even if you are fine,” I told Esgalanu, “but I don’t actually have any magic, which is kind of a pain sometimes…nice to meet you.” I added hastily so that I wouldn’t start complaining about my allergies.
((For Kittymine, Mikazuki, AL, and co.: What if you ran into a rebel force that was already formed? They don’t have to be very many, but you can RP a few characters and join their group.))
((Sounds good!))
((Oh gosh, I’ve missed a lot. What would be the best way to jump back in? Or can someone bring Aria in?))
“Oh.” After hesitating for a second, I added, “I actually can’t use magic either. That’s why I haven’t been talking much. I’m worried that people will find out and make me leave. It’s bad enough I’m a dark elf. They don’t need another reason not to trust me.” The words came out in a rush. I needed to say that.
((I like vanillabean’s idea. I’ll go with that and see if that works. Here goes.))
“So we’re forming a rebel force?” I asked. Someone nodded. “Isn’t there already a rebel force? You know, the ones that have been fighting Zealestre for ages?”
All eyes slowly turned to face me.
“What? You didn’t know about that?”
((145 – Aria is with everyone else – on a horse. We’re currently discussing what to do and where to go. The idea is to find safe haven and prepare to fight the Zealstre (sound familiar? ). Also, as Agent Lightning just posted, there is already a rebel force of magic users. Another idea I had was to find out about the necromancer after we’re joined the fighters and fought some.))
Renier
Renier looked up from cleaning her blades. “Rebel force?”
((back on the currently popular list! :smile:))
Having been living in a secluded house for ages, I didn’t even know who the mayor was, let alone any rebel group. However, I was no stranger to rebellion and being an outlaw, so listened with some interest about the group.
((Ack! I don’t really have a history for them, but oh well…))
“They say that the rebel group started when a mysterious magic-user was sentenced to death by the Zealestre. They say that this magic-user held powers others could only dream of. According to legend, he was practically invincible.”
“But the Zealestre found his weakness. They tortured him. They would have killed him.”
“But that day, something happened that nobody could quite understand. All of the magic-users from miles around were somehow drawn to where he was. Together, they easily drove away Zealestre and rescued him.”
“They formed a rebel force, with him as their leader. They’ve been hiding, preparing. Perhaps one day, they will emerge to fight.”
“Perhaps they won’t.”
((How’s that? Did I overdo it?))
((Sounds good to me.))
[I think I broke it.
Well, now I know not to use the tagparentheses again.
Anyway, I’m lost. Where should Lanying be?]
((Well, right now we’re all just learning about the already-formed rebel force. We’ve escaped from the inn, and are leaving toparts unknown…
Or is your character somewhere else?))
[Lanying’s a fighter in the Zealastre army. There’s no way she’d be with the rebels.]
((In which case she would be with the Zealastre in the unnamed town where the inn is situated. The Zealstre were removed from the inn by the king’s soldiers (who were only doing so to keep the peace). I don’t know if the Zealstre regrouped in Daggerford or something, so feel free to RP.))
((Whoops. Sorry.))
Fedora
” Maybe we should… try to find them? You know, join forces? ” I asked the group. ” Do you… what’s your name?”
“Lara.” came the reply.
” Okay, Lara, do you know where they are? ” I asked.
“I…” I hesitated. I knew I could trust these people, but I had kept the secret for so long, I was reluctant to let it go. “They’re in the…”
((Sorry… I have no idea where they should be. Sorry… does anyone have any suggestions? Because it’s important where they are, I guess, and I don’t know where this story should go next so I suppose they could be hiding underground or in caves somewhere unless that’s too cliche, but… I don’t know what to call them. Suggestions please? Sorry… I just don’t know where they should go… I’m having trouble thinking of anything good or even mediocre… sorry…))
((Hmm…let’s see. We need:
1- name for rebels
2- name of town they are in/nearby
3- what type of place hiding in
For #1, how’s this for a name: M.A.G.E (Magics Against Genocidal Extremists)
A town name could be almost anything, so just find something that you think sounds good.
My vote for a hiding place would be a (far-flung?) forest protected with magic and guards (yes, this sounds LOTRish). ))
((M.A.G.E. is a good name. They can be near a small town called Teseret, hiding out in the marshes near the river by Teseret. Why is Teseret sneaking them aid? It’s in an area heavily populated by magical races and depends on the magical amulet trade. Sure.))
((Thank you. That sounds fine.))
LARA
I lowered my voice, and glanced around.
“Their name is M.A.G.E., which stands for Magics Against Genocidal Extremists. They have been hiding in the dark forests near the town of Teseret, which aids them.”
The one called Christopher nodded in recognition. “I’ve been to Teseret before. If I recall correctly, they were always involved in the trade of magical items.”
“So you know the way.”
In reply, Christopher turned his horse to the east. “Follow me, everyone. We’ve got no time to lose.”
((Mikazuki? I’m waiting for you to post.))
((Cake. Sorry.))
“They won’t make you leave,” I said after a moment. “Look, the Zealastre cult-thingy tried to hurt you, right?”
He nodded.
“And the Zealastres definitely don’t like elves, magic or not–I’m only half-elf, no magic, and they went after me too. So they’re “against” elves as much as they are magicspeople. You’ve got a perfect right to be here.”
CHRISTOPHER
As we travelled, I thought about my mother and sisters, and burying my father. We would pass my hometown on our way – at night, by the look of our pace. It would be a simple matter to quickly ride home, collect my family, and bury my father.
I just needed to tell someone what I was doing.
((Post more later-gotta run!))
ERASMO
The group started off along the road, heading at a good trot toward Teseret. I stole a glance at the inn as we went, and felt sorry for the innkeeper, as they would have much trouble reparing the place after the battle. Scorch marks were visible through the wood, and holes were not at all uncommon.
As time passed, the inn faded and we reached the gate of the city. Luckily, all of the cult had left the city, so the regular guards gave us a gravge salute and let us through. And so our journey to seek the aid of M.A.G.E. began.
CHRISTOPHER
The day passed without further incident, for which I was grateful. Too many of the group were still drained from the early morning battle, myself included.
Twice we paused briefly on the road to eat and rest before continuing at our steady pace. By nightfall we had travelled eight miles and passed four towns. My hometown, Westing, was within the next mile. Perhaps, aside from burying father, the house could serve as shelter for this group. But who to tell my idea to? I slowed my horse slightly and looked around for Erasmo. He was riding a few meters behind me. I guided my horse to walk next to his.
“Erasmo?” The gnome looked up, his face shrouded by the hood of his cloak.
“Yes?”
“This next town is called Westing – it’s my hometown. I need to bury my father and send my mother and sisters to safety. I would like to stop there tonight, if possible. I would also offer my home as shelter for tonight. Is this agreeable?”
((Cake! I thought I posted something here. a while back.))
Erasmo announced that we would be stopping in Westing for the night. I had been to Westing before in my travels. I couldn’t think of a reason we would need to stop there, but then I learned that we would be staying at the home of Christopher’s home for the night. Then I understood. I was glad we wouldn’t be staying in an inn, though. I had had enough of inns by this point.
((I haven’t really given Lara much background, so I might as well mention here that she stumbled across the magic-users while escaping an arranged marriage. The man she was supposed to marry was a Zealestre person. Her whole family has been very anti-magic, and she never quite agreed with that-and ran away.))
CHRISTOPHER
Erasmo nodded and then announced this plan to the others.
An hour or so later we reached Westing. I guided the group through the main village to the large farm in the outskirts where my family lived. I dismounted and led my two horses closer to the house. I knocked. There was silence for a heartbeat and then mother’s voice spoke from the other side of the door.
“Who goes there?” she asked nervously.
“It is I, Christopher, your eldest son.”
The door opened and mother enveloped me in her embrace.
“Christopher…thank God. I’ve been so worried. Where is your father?” I swallowed hard and gently disengaged myself from her grip.
“He – he is right here,” I replied haltingly, pulling forward the horse that was carrying father’s covered body. Mother’s face went white and she began to shake uncontrollably.
“No…” she moaned, moving slowly forward and uncovering father’s face. She began to sob, swaying dangerously. I quickly grasped her around the waist. Tears were running down my own face. After a few moments mother regained a bit more composure, enough that she could help me move the body to the couch in the living room.
((I’ll post more later – time for dinner!))
((SFTDP))
I sat mother down and made her a cup of strong tea.
“How did this happen?” she whispered eventually, gripping her mug tightly.
“We were staying at an inn two nights ago in Rimer, a village just past Daggerford. The first night we were there we heard rumors of a violent extremist group called the Zealastre who were waging religious war, so to speak, against the magical creatures. There was a skirmish in Daggerford and many of the escaping elves and such ran to the inn. Father and I healed them and planned on leaving this morning. But at dawn the Zealastre soldiers came to the inn. Apparently they had caught up with the escaped magical folk. There was a fight. Father and I went down to heal the fallen. Imperial soldiers came to break up the fight. But – ” My voice broke for a moment. I swallowed and continued. “But there was one Zealastre soldier who had yet to leave. He saw father helping a fallen elf and attacked him, stabbing him several times. I t-tried to heal father but my magical reserves were spent on the girl I had just finished healing. Then father gave me his magic. He-he said that I should take it, that it couldn’t help him but with it I could save another life. Then he…he died.”
Mother and I sat in silence for a few minutes, tears still flowing freely. Then I spoke up.
“I came back to bury father and to warn you and Cecelia and Tabetha. We need to flee and get away from here. The Zealastre are moving closer with every day. I’m currently travelling with a group of magical folk and various supporters who were at the inn and are fleeing the Zealastre. We are headed for Teseret, where we have been told that a group call M.A.G.E. resides. They have been fighting against the Zealastre and we seek haven there. And a chance to fight, for those who wish.”
((Aaahh! SFTTP, other people keep needing to use the computer.))
CHRISTOPHER
“Where is your band of comrades staying?” asked mother.
“Well, I was thinking that they could all sleep in the barn. They have food and drink aplenty, thanks to the generous innkeeper.” Mother nodded in agreement.
“Christopher, I understand why want to leave,” began mother soflty. But why should we? We are unknowns, with no magic at all. Yes, we are related to you, but they don’t know exactly who you are either. It would probably be better for we women to stay here, mind the farm, and keep a low profile.” I digested her words. She was right. Mothers usually were.
“All right. But can I have your word that if things begin to go badly, you will leave for Teseret?” I asked solemly. Mother nodded, her eyes still glistening with tears.
“When should I bury father?” I asked gently.
“I-I supppose tomorrow morning, early,” replied mother shakily. “If you dig the grave tonight it will make things easier. I will prepare the body.”
I nodded gravely in reply. I stooped to give mother a hug and a kiss, and then I left the house to see how the others were doing in the barn.
Rooster wasn’t one to talk much, so Gemina sat quietly in the kitchen. She had a strong hunch as to whose house she was in, and an inkling of fear grew inside her. She would have to be very, very careful about what she said. Lysander reappeared and beckoned to her. Gemina got up and followed her up two flights of stairs, down a long hallway, and into a large and forbidding library. A man faced away from them.
“Thank you, Lysander,” he said. She left and shut the door behind her. Gemina took a deep breath. Something smelled off…just the barest hints of charcoal and..rotting flesh? She must be imagining things. The man turned to face her.
“Welcome, my lady,” he said graciously. “I apologize for the secrecy and our seeming unhospitality, but your visit is not something that should be known everywhere. I must speak to you of a matter which will concern the elves greatly. I’m sure you understand.”
“I’m sure I do,” Gemina replied. “But I have not the authority to speak for all elves or our leaders, nor may I treat with others on their behalf. I am but a humble messenger.”
“Humble messenger indeed,” he said with a smile. “Bring this message back to your uncle, then. War is coming, and it would be in their best interest to ally themselves with the House of Hammer.”
“If there are terms for this alliance, I would hear them.”
“We may offer protection, and the elves can offer magic. We scorn the Zealastrians and want nothing to do with them. They threaten the peace and security of our land. What is that old adage?” He asked with another smile. “Oh yes. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
“Thank you, sir. I will return with an answer.”
“I trust in the wisdom of your uncle and the elves. You have my leave to go. Lysander!” He called. Gemina left, passing Lysander on the way out. Lysander closed the door behind her.
“You have been eavesdropping?” He asked, but didn’t bother for an answer. “Good. You will be her guard on her journey home. Avoid settled areas and speak to none. If anything goes amiss, you know what to do. It would be a shame really, if a terrible accident should befall such a beauty. Still, some things are unavoidable.” Lysander nodded, then he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She left and saw Gemina waiting at the other end of the hallway.
“Are you ready to return to your people?”
“Yes.”
“We have a long road ahead of us. I am to be your guard–if that’s all right with you. I’m perfectly sure you could manage just as well on your own, though.”
Gemina’s smile was cool. “I’m sure I don’t mind at all.”
((Foo. Stringing this plot along is hard, and it only gets more complex. Still, it’s fun!))
LARA
That night, we stayed in the barn. I couldn’t sleep. The events of the day rolled around in my head, refusing to settle down. I could hear soft snores all around me, but couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. Who are these people? Why am I trusting them? What did I just do with my life? Will I regret this? I can’t even use magic!!
When I finally fell asleep, I had troubled dreams of fire, death, and the yells of battle. I woke even more exhausted than I had fallen asleep.
((Some of that should be in italics, but I can’t get Html to work. Sorry.))
I curled up in the soft hay of the barn, my breathing barely audible over the sounds of snoring. I could hear the crickets chirping outside, and the sound made me unexpectedly homesick. I felt a wave of longing for the grassy Arguilinn countryside wash over me, and I reprimanded myself. What was I thinking? I had left that place, that small, home-like cabin, a long time ago, and this was no time for regrets. I attempted to get up and distract myself–sleep could wait–but the sound of the crickets was soothing, and the fresh night air that washed in under the barn door carried the scent of sun-dried hay to my nose, and despite my attempts, I slipped into a dreamless oblivion.
CHRISTOPHER
After making sure that everyone had a comfortable spot to sleep, I found the shovel in the corner of the barn and looked for someplace to make the grave. I decided on a spot near the trees that was not far from the back of the house. I began to dig.
I don’t know exactly how long I was digging for. I was too absorbed by my own thoughts, by my grief. Sweat and tears mingled and fell to the earth.
It was sunrise by the time I finished. I walked back to the house to wash up and found my mother and two sisters all up, sitting in chairs near the body. They looked up as I entered.
“The grave is ready. I’m going to wash up,” I said quietly.
I re-entered the living room a few minutes later. Without a word, the four of us all lifted the body and carried it out the the back. Slowly we walked to the grave and placed the body gently inside. I stood over the hole for a moment. I could hear quiet sobs behind me.
“Dear Father,” I began, swallowing hard. “It is so hard to say goodbye. You were my teacher, my mentor, my champion. You taught me about life and how to live. Your final words to me were, “You can save another life.” I intend to live by those words. I will miss you. Forever your loving son, Christopher.” I stepped away. One by one my mother a sisters stepped up to the grave and said their goodbyes. Then we all took shovels and filled the grave. For a moment, we stood together in front of the completed grave, arms around each other.
We turned away to walk back to the house. I noticed that many of my compatriots were standing around us with their heads bowed. It touched me.
The rest of the morning was a blur. Horses were saddled, bags packed, cloaks donned. Before I mounted my horse to leave, I walked over to my family members who were standing on the porch. I kneeled down to give eight year old Tabetha a hug.
“Why must you go?” she sobbed in my arms, clinging to me.
“Because I love you,” I replied softly. “I will come back. Don’t worry. Be strong.”
I then hugged sixteen year old Cecelia.
“You’ll help mother, won’t you?” I asked.
“Was there ever any doubt?” she replied with a trace of a sad smile. “Take care of yourself, Christopher.”
I gave mother a long hug and a kiss.
“Godspeed, Christopher. Be careful. I love you,” she whispered in my ear.
I mounted my horse. The rest of the group was ready to leave.
“Thank you, Mrs. Quentin, for your generous hospitality,” said Erasmo. “On behalf of our group, I thank you.”
“Goodbye,” I called one last time. I waved and then squeezed my heels against the horse’s flanks. We moved off.
I looked back at my house, now distant. I promised myself that I would return.
((CAKE!!!!!!!!!! I thought I posted something here. I’ll rewrite it later, no time now. Either I forgot to post it or the spam filter ate it.))
((I’m going to create a character… wow, it’s been a while since I did an RPG.
Name: Callette
Race: Half-elf
Age: 15ish
Fighting: Can fight passably with a sword or dagger, but she’s best with a bow and arrows
Magic: Could not do magic if her life depended on it
Appearance: Short, spiky black hair, green eyes, about 5′ 9″. Slender, and vaguely pretty. Wears a navy cloak to hide her weapons. Has a hardened look. She’s not very remarkable, and it’s hard to identify her race.
Personality: Ambiguous. She doesn’t know which side she’s on. Not because she doesn’t want to choose, she just doesn’t know enough. She’s very quiet, sort of shy, and has trouble making friends. Doesn’t like to give away her loyalty.
Background: She has a few vague memories of parent-like people, but as far as she knows, she’s been on her own in the forest since the beginning.))
((I’m not sure where to jump in, but if anyone’s going toward the forest outside the town, it’d be nice to find Callette.)) ((Anyway, I have no more time on the computer, so I couldn’t write any more even if I had a plan for Callette.))
((Okay, SilverLeopard, I’ll try to help you join. If you want to join the majority of the group, who are going to find the rebel forces, then this should work. If you’re going to join the Zealestre, however, then ignore this post.))
LARA
We left Christopher’s house early that morning and traveled all that day.
It was around noon when we were traveling by some forested area a little ways outside of town. There was a stream nearby, so we stopped briefly to water our horses and rest. Refilling my canteen, I heard some rustling in ths bushes nearby and went over to investigate. A slender figure ducked out of view.
“Hello?” I called.
She stepped out of the bushes. I saw that she had been living in the forest. “Who are you?” She asked quietly.
“Um, I’m Lara.” I said. “Who are you?”
“My-” She paused, considering. “My name is Callette.” she said, and paused again. “Are you with them?” She gestured toward the group some ten meters off.
“Yes,” I said, “and I’d better get back. I don’t know when they’re leaving.” I glanced at her again.
((Sorry if some of this is incorrect when taking your character’s personality into account; I did the best I could. I’ll let you take it from here in terms of joining us, if you so desire- I don’t know if you want to flat out join us, or follow us for a bit- I’m not the best at powerplaying, otherwise I’d write more.))
((SFTDP- I forgot to mention, if Callette is half-elf, she most likely won’t be joining the Zealestre; they hate elves.))
((sorry I haven’t posted in a while, although it looks like Erasmo was active in my absense. I don’t mind, although Erasmo generally prefers to play the power behind the power instead of taking responsibility for a group, i.e, announcing a plan to everyone or thanking someone on behalf of a group.))
After thanking Christopher’s family and heading off, we continued our trip toward the forests of Teseret.
I guided my small horse toward Lara, who I saw was talking with a stranger.
“Who is this? I asked quietly, wondering who the strange person could be.
“My name’s Callete,” she said catiously, looking at me curiosly. “I’m a half-elf.”
“And whose side are you on? Zeleastrean cults despise your race.” I questioned of her, trying to determine her intent here.
((Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. Is your other character still being used at all?))
((That was going to be my brother’s character, but he couldn’t keep up with the plotline so was going to wait until the plot slowed down a bit. I don’t think he has any intention of starting to post.))
~Callette~
“I’m not sure which side I’m on…” I trailed off.
They looked at me like I’d been living in near isolation for the past five or ten years. Which was true, but…
“The Zealestrean cults are against the magical races–elves, dwarves, and the like,” Lara said.
“Well, I’ve never been able to use magic,” I said. Everyone looked a bit confused. “However, I don’t think it’s good to hate people just ’cause they use magic. Which side are you all on? And why are you going to the forest? I’ve heard that once you get deeper in the forest, it tries to keep you in.”
LARA
“We’re fighting the Zealestre. Most of us are magic-users, but you’re welcome to join us. We’re looking for M.A.G.E., the already-formed rebel group. You’re welcome to join us.”
Callette nodded silently.
“We’re looking for the town of Teseret.” explained Erasmo. “We believe that the rebel force may be somewhere nearby.”
ERASMO
“Did you say the forest tries to keep you in? Have you ever seen anyone go in or experienced this for yourself?” I said, suspicious about the forest.
Callete replied, “I’ved lived in the forest a long time. If you stray to far in, you get disoriented and lose your sense of direction, walking in circles quickly. I once wandered too far and it took me days to find my way out again.”
I thought about this for a moment.
If I was a rebel group hiding from an omnipresent group of people, an impenetrable forest would be the perfect spot to hide. They might have even set up the defense themselves…
I voiced my suspicions to Lara. “Maybe M.A.G.E. is hiding in the forest. They would be almost impossible to find, and if the forest borders Teseret, they might have even set up the defense themselves.”
CHRISTOPHER
I listened carefully as Erasmo and Lara talked to Callete. Erasmo’s suspicion seemed to make sense.
“It’s all very well that they are well hidden in an impenetrable forest,” I said quietly, “But how do we find them without getting completely lost ourselves? We only have enough food for so long.”
LARA
Could M.A.G.E. be hidden in this very forest? The thought made me nervous.
“The town of Teseret has been helping the rebel forces,” I reasoned, “so there must be some way for people to go in and out. But how?”
((CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKEEEEEEEEEEE. Sorry about that; I’ve been meaning to change it. I was on the other computer this morning so I assumed it was changed…
))
CHRISTOPHER
“I suppose, in a worst case scenario, we could do the Hansel and Gretel method, but use string instead of crumbs,” I quipped, only slightly serious.
ERASMO
“We could do that, but that wouldn’t help us find them, only help us get out again, and if they don’t want to be found there is not much we can do. As you pointed out, we only have enough food for so long and its not like we can forage for so many people.” I say in response to Christopher, puzzling it over.
“Maybe we should just continue on to Teseret and see if we can glean some more information from the villagers there.” Lara said, pointing toward our original destination.
CHRISTOPHER
“That’s probably the wisest course of action, as long as we are discreet,” I replied to Lara.
So we set off again.
It only took an hour to reach Teseret. As we rode through the village’s gate, I noticed that many of the villagers were staring at us. I will admit that we were something of an odd group.
((I’ll be away for a week, feel free to PP me until I return.))
Teseret was a small town, but I noticed small things that made me sure that this was it. The scent of magic hung in the air. How do I know what magic smells like? I wondered to myself. Oh well.
“Where now?” somebody said. We looked around for someone who could help us, but we didn’t have to look far. Somebody was walking up toward us.
The man was dressed in a dark traveling cloak with a sturdy tunic. His face seemed worn and toned. He was very nondescript, and could easily be anything from a farmer to an aristocrat.
“Hello, traveling group. My name is Yvar, son of Reis. What brings you to this town of ours?”
“We came to this town to find rest for the night. After that we plan to continue on to Darven.” I say say, stepping forward and naming a town in the general direction of the forest.
“While we were riding alongside the forest on the way here, we noticed some sounds and noises emenating from within. Could you put our curious minds at rest and tell us what they were?” Christopher says.
Yvar looked at us suspiciously.
“Some say a rebel magic group is hiding in that forest. They torture animals for there dark experiments. If it be cries of pain you’ve been hearing, that would be them. Disgusting magic users.”
I look nervously at the quickly hidden traces of the fact that many of our group were magic races, and decided we’d better leave this man quickly, lest he find out and alert the cult.
CHRISTOPHER
After that short conversation, we kept moving, looking for an inn to stay the night. I noticed that a few of my comrades surreptitiously pulled their hoods a bit farther over their heads.
‘Likely nervous about keeping their pointed ears hidden’
“Do you think it’s safe to stay in an inn, or should we brave the forest?” I whispered to Erasmo, nudging my horse closer to his.
Re: The Nature of Elves (please read!!!!!!)
If you please, I would really like to get a general sense of the nature of Elves. Since I’m already running the necromancer/king/Hammer show, I feel like it would be very rude to make more decisions that would affect you all without your input. First, I need a general sense of what the Elves are like. Are they like LotR Elves, which are of a higher order than humans, or are they equal? (I’m guessing equal, as we have several elf/human characters.) Do they live in small kingdoms, are they more tribal, or do they have one empire? What is their collective personality? How long do they live? Do they heal quickly? And the decision to be made is this one: Will the Elves go to war? Gemina and Lysander are carrying a message to Gemina’s uncle proposing an alliance between Elves and Hammer, but I don’t want to speak for all Elves because that would be too much PPing on my part, I feel. I was planning on having Gemina’s uncle be the lord of a middling group of Elves, but I have yet to decide his decision. I would really appreciate your input, because this is our RPG and not mine. Thanks.
~Callette~
I sincerely doubted that the rebels would torture animals, and I thought it would be a good idea to get away from this biased man. As we continued on, I pulled my hood father down. My ears were one of the only distinguishing features of my race, otherwise, it was hard to tell.
One legend I remembered about the forest floated to the top of my head.
“I once heard from a traveler about a man who went into the forest many years ago,” I said, “He told everyone he was going to tame the forest, so of course he was urged to give up his plan. He didn’t end up taming it, but he emerged two weeks later, without a scratch or bruise. Which makes me wonder whether there a way through the less hospitable parts of the forest…” I trailed off.
((On elves: The idea I get is that elves are about equal to humans in the status quo. Maybe they some amongst humans and some live in tribes?
The way I always imagined the personality of most of the elves was a lot like a humans, but with more of a sense of honor, and responsibility for the world. I think they live a bit longer that most humans, but they don’t heal more quickly (the might have instincts that are slightly quicker, or they get diseases less often).
However, I think that they need a few downsides. Less empathy? (I don’t know, I always think of elves as very serious.)
I think that elves would go to war if they found it necessary for their race’s survival.))
((Ditto on the Elves. My only differing point would be that I think of elves as living in separate tribes/clans from the humans, yet they are not inaccessible.))
((Agreed.))
“But you’ve been living in the forest,” I said, looking at her. “How?”
((What do you mean by “How?” *is confuzzled*))
((Sorry; I should have been more precise. What I meant is that Lara is confused as to how Callette can have been surviving in the forest. ))
CHRISTOPHER
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully as Callette recounted a forest legend.
“Perhaps you need to have magic to get though the nastier areas. Or maybe the nastier areas are really controlled by the inhabitants and you need to prove your worthiness in order to pass through,” I mused.
“If that’s true, then magic won’t be a problem. But how to prove our worthiness?” I asked.
CHRISTOPHER
“I’m thinking that if the nastier part are controlled by the inhabitants, they would use the forest to test us, to see if we were a danger to them. Perhaps magic would be used to play tricks on our minds or something,” I replied to Lara.
“I think our best option at this point would be to get out of here as soon as possible with as much food and supplies as we can carry and try our luck in the forest.” I remark, glancing nervously around.
CHRISTOPHER
We all nodded in agreement to Erasmo. We spent the rest of the evening taking an inventory of our supplies and purchasing more in the village. Once we had amassed all we could, we stayed in one of the inns for the night. For the first time in a while, we enjoyed uninterruped slumber in an inn.
The next morning I woke up early, washed, and breakfasted. As I packed and loaded my horse, I wondered about what we would find in the forest, whether we would have to fight, or how much magic we would need to use.
We all began a solemn march into the forest, everyone mentally mapping the route we were taking as we marched. I noticed immediately that the route became confused in my mind. After a while I gave up and focused on the road ahead. We didn’t have much of a plan, but took a route straight toward the center in hope for the best.
“If these are the people that will help us, should we yell out to them?” I say quietly, even that small noice causing alarm as many glanced around nervously.
CHRISTOPHER
“I suspect we should wait for them to make the first move – if there is a them,” I whispered back.
We kept going. I wished that I had a photographic memory to memorize our twisting, winding path.
Soon the trees thickened, turning the path into a trail. I seemed to be sensing an essence of magic in the air – then again, it was probably all in my head.
At the heart of the wood there was a very small clearing with five trails shooting off it in different directions.
“I hate forks,” I muttered to myself, “and this is even worse.”
((PEOPLE COME POST ON THIS THREAD!!!!!!!!!))
“Erm…. Eenie, Meenie, Minie, Moe or should we be intelligent about it?”
I looked closely at each path, trying to discern which seemed most likely to reveal which one would take us to where we wanted to go.
“If there are magic users in the forest, would the correct trail have traces of magic about it?” Christopher said, looking around the group to see if anyone could detect magic.
((My character is supposedly going to discover some sort of hidden powers along this journey so I’m going to have her discern the correct route (we’re assuming Christopher’s hunch was correct). If anyone else has a character that can detect traces of magic, then step in if you want to affirm Lara’s hunch or whatever. I don’t know everyone’s powers though, so…))
LARA
“If there are magic users in the forest, would the correct trail have traces of magic about it?” asked Christopher.
Wishing I could be more useful when it came to magic-related things, I looked up and down the five paths. I couldn’t see more than around five feet down each way; the darkness obscured my vision. When I turned to the third path, I felt a tingling down my spine. I shuddered. “Did anyone else feel that?” I muttered. I appeared to be the only one that had felt anything. I stared down the fourth and fifth paths. Both were dark and ominous, shrouded in thick foilage. It must have been nothing, I thought to myself, staring down the third path again. Again, I began to feel the strange sensation. Somehow, I felt like I was dangling off a cliff- in a lightning storm. As I peered down the path, it appeared darker and deeper- somehow more dimensional- than the other four.
“What about the third path?” I said aloud. “I think that’s the one.”
((Is this okay? Sorry, I just get nervous whenever I’m making decisions about the plot.))
((Sounds great. I like the ‘dangling off a cliff in a lightning storm’ analogy ))
((REVIVE!!!))
~Callette~
I turned towards the path Lara had pointed out, and suddenly felt like I was falling into it. It appeared to zoom towards me, or I toward it, and I felt as if I was being carried on an unnaturally fast gust of wind down the path, twisting and turning until a warm red glow flooded over me. I saw silhouettes around one of the several small campfires that were visible in the dusky clearing I had ended up in. One shape turned smoothly toward my presence and said, “Who’s there?” And then, I was back at the fork, where a couple of people were looking at me concernedly.
“Yeah, I think that’s the right way,” I said, a bit confused. I don’t have any magic. How did I see that? I wondered.
((I hope my first impressions of the camp are okay.))
((Sounds good))
I watched Callete stumble in the path, and figured I had better be careful, so watched my step as I went down the path. Soon the rest of the group followed. We walked down the lonely trail, and an ominous silence descended as day faded into dusk. As time passed and our surroundings hardly changed, I began to wonder.
“Has anyone else noticed we’re not really going anywhere?” I say, looking around carefully.
A small shape caught my eye. I looked down on the hardly-worn trail and saw a small, jagged line darting across the landscape. On one side of the line, the ground was a rich, earthy soil, while on the other it was a barely noticeable but definite lighter shade of brown. I looked over and saw a stick that stopped abruptly right at the line.
“It’s a repeating illusion!” Ianthe cried.
LARA
“It must be some sort of defense system,” I said, “to keep out intruders.”
“But how do we get in, then?” mused Callette.
CHRISTOPHER
“Maybe we need to state our quest or something,” I said thoughtfully. I stepped forward into the center of the path and spoke in a loud, carrying voice.
“Magical races of this forest! My company and I seek shelter from the dreaded cult of Zealastre, who hunt us because we are magical. It as also been said that you are the Rebellion against the cult, and to that end we wish to assist you by joining your ranks. May we go forward on this road to join you?”
ERASMO
Nothing happened for a long while, and it seemed as though nothing would happen. Then the world blurred around us and reformed to a scene totally covered in fog. I was barely able to see my companions, and anything farther away than 10 feet or so became strangely hazy. Anything a while after that was cloaked entirely in the thick mist.
“What the cake?” I said, my voice strangely muffled by the mist.
“You called us!” A voice boomed out, uninhibited by the mist. “Now to enter, you must submit yourself for testing. Do not resist.”
As he finished speaking, I felt a strange presence, like a tendril, coming into my brain, a barely tangible thread of thought. Instinctively, I closed off my mind, steeling my brain against all intrusion. The thread instantly responded by pushing harder, but I would not budge. I then remembered the voices advice, “Do not resist”
“NO!” I said aloud, defiant and refusing.
LARA
Something was forcing its way into my mind. Augh, stop it… I tried to block it out, but my concentration slipped, and I felt all my thoughts, emotions, and memories… all of my identity was slipping though the fingers of some sort of… something, invading my mind. Hey, stop it, I thought with a kind of dazed annoyance.
CHRISTOPHER
I decided to let the inevitable probe in, but I sent out a little probe of my own, directed at whoever it was that was riffling through our thoughts. Evidently, whoever it was was not expecting someone to be probing back, for I found an opening. Now en’s thoughts were flickering before me, and I pulled back quickly and practically yelped, as much as a thought can yelp.
‘Terrance? Terrance Quentin?’ The probing en, who had paused when my presence invaded his thoughts, seemed to jump. Mentally speaking.
‘Christopher? What the – what are you doing here?’
‘I could ask you the same question, cousin Terrance. But in the meantime, would you mind stopping the probing and letting us in? You did hear my little speech, I assume. And I will vouch for everyone in my group. We will not betray you to the Zealastre. We want to fight.’
There was another pause, longer this time, and then Terrance said, ‘All right. You guys are cleared. I’m coming out to guide you to us, since you may have noticed that we’ve magicked the place.’
The mental tendrils of thought extracted themselves from my brain- painfully. My head snapped up; my thoughts cleared.
The path still stood before us, but when I guided my horse onto it, nothing happened. “Come on; it’s safe, I think.” The path offered no magical resistance, and we continued down it.
((Don’t tell me this was inspired by Eragon. ))
Esgalanu
The thought-invader attempted to force itself into my mind in every way possible. It took all my focus to keep it out, but I was losing strength. Remember your training….
Just as I was about to give in, the thought-invader’s attack withdrew. Still wary, I glanced at the others in our party. It seemed that they had been attacked too, but apparently whatever it was, perhaps the MAGE group they had spoken of, had made their decision. Our group moved forward again. Sighing, I nudged my horse. Was moving forward a wise choice?
((My thoughts exactly.))
((As I recall, a similar thing happened on the Muse Academy RPG.))
That wasn’t my original intent with the proby whatsit, I just intended it to be a mind reading that you could fight with effort, but whatever
CHRISTOPHER
I opened my eyes and looked around at my fellow travelers. All seemed very wary and slightly confused. As we inched forward on the path, a horse and riding came out of the shadows toward us.
It was Terrance. He had grown into a young man since we had last seen each other – we both had. He was taller, with a solid build. His face, so similar to mine, was marred by a livid scar on his right cheek. He grinned ruefully when he saw me, brushing his dark hair away from those bright blue eyes.
“Good to see you, Christopher, even though at present I must treat you and your group with suspicion. Are you their leader or something?” I shook my head, a smiled pulling at my mouth.
“We banded together for practicality and safety. Each person here is their own individual, with their own agendas. Some wish to fight. Some wish to find refuge. What unites us all, and you included, is our hatred of the cult from which we are fleeing.”
“Fancy words for a Healer,” said Terrance with a raised eyebrow. I rolled my eyes.
“We did go to school, you know. Now can we get on with it? Are you our guide or not?” Terrance scowled, but I knew he wasn’t offended. He rode over to where the others were gathered on their horses.
“My name is Terrance and I am to be your guide. Keep close on my tail and follow my instructions at all times. The pathway is tricky and magicked and we don’t want to lose any of you before we have a chance to meet you.” He turned his horse around and trotted up the path. Ignoring the vaguely sinister tone of Terrance’s last sentence, I followed him up the path.
((Ack, ack, ack – that should be horse and RIDER, not riding!))
Lysander and Gemina stopped for the night on the borders of the forest and set up their makeshift camp.
“Do you see something?” Lysander asked Gemina. Gemina was staring intently into the distance as the twilight faded.
“There’s a group moving towards the forest,” Gemina said. “I can’t quite tell how many, but I don’t think their soldiers.”
“Why would they want to enter these woods?” Lysander asked. “Aren’t they cursed?”
Gemina’s lovely laughter rang out. “Cursed? Oh, no. Magical, I suppose, but there are far worse places in the world than this forest. Even if the Zealastrians manage to wipe out every Elf and magic user in the land, they will still have to contend with dragons, sea serpents, giant spiders, sphinxes…not to mention shades and spirits of all different kinds.” Lysander took a deep breath. “Are you afraid?”
“No,” Lysander replied, running a hand through her shaggy hair.
“Who cut your hair?”
“Me.”
“In the dark, with a blunt blade and no mirror?”
“The knife was sharp!”
“Right.” Gemina pulled a tiny knife out of her bodice and smiled kindly. “Come here and I’ll trim it for you. Who were those two young men in the kitchen?”
“Just manservants–a groom and a footman.”
“Mmm-hmmm. They and the cook have all been servants a long time, haven’t they?”
“Yes.”
Gemina moved to cut the back of Lysander’s hair. “They’re very loyal, aren’t they? Just like you, Blade.”
Lysander froze. The cold little knife pressed against her jugular. Gemina had caught her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides. “It’s a good thing the Elves know we’re coming, because it would be a shame really, if a terrible accident should befall such a beauty. Isn’t that what Lord Hammer said?” Lysander didn’t reply. “No tricks. And look, we even know each other’s identities now. I suppose we’re even.”
“You’re in my debt,” Lysander managed to squeak. Gemina laughed quietly, sending chills through Lysander.
“I will keep you alive in my people’s territory. I assure you, that will repay the debt. After all, we know about the Taronto governor.” Lysander kept staring straight ahead, though she internally cursed Lord Hammer. Why had he picked someone who was beautiful and smart? Lysander was well and truly trapped now. “No tricks. Agreed?” Gemina murmured.
“Agreed,” Lysander muttered.
“Good,” Gemina replied, releasing Lysander. “I’m so glad we understand each other.” Gemina got up and went over to the fire. Lysander remained where she was. All she could think about was how close Gemina had been, and her soft voice in her ear…
((Taronto is the second-most important city after the Capital, and the whole thing with the governor will be explained later.
Clarification: Lysander is so asexual it’s not even funny, but she’s in love with Gemina. Rather, she’s in love with the idea of Gemina–someone beautiful and clever and mysterious and altogether more good than Lysander is. Gemina is straight. GAPAs, there will be no content problems, I promise! I wouldn’t write anything R or above anyway, but this relationship is important for character development.))
CHRISTOPHER
Terrance was right – the path was tricky, and certainly impossible to navigate if you didn’t know where you were going. We rode along a twisting path, walked straight through tree trunks that obviously were not real tree trunks. And the road seemed to go on forever. After what felt like an hour we rode through a seemingly solid Sequoia tree and found ourselves entering a large forest village. As we rode into the main square, a crowd began to form.
~Callette~
When we entered the forest vilage, people began to gather around us. Glancing around, I noticed poeple of all races and colors, emerging from sturdy huts, or leaving small campfires behind to come to the center of the clearing.
Terrance rode up in front of us and said in a loud, clear voice, “M.A.G.E. I’ve lead more volunteers to our cause through the forest. I can vouch for them, and I hope that you will see them as friends.” Glancing around, all I see is suspicion. They’re probably wary of just about anyone, I thought, Nothing to worry about.
((Someone else should do introductions, because I’m not sure I know everyone’s names.))
((Dead thread? Unless another one was started in my absence…))
((Yay another dead RPG I was once involved with! I shall post on this one in hopes of reinvigorating it.))
Esgalanu
I had decided I didn’t much like enchanted forests. The brambles and the thickets and the thorns were one thing, but the knowledge that we could be zapped to pieces if we moved off the trail was another. I was not completely sure of how this zapping would work, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t be pleasant.
Our guide, Terrance, led us through the foliage to a clearing. A big clearing. A village.
Listening to the others murmur to each other, I gathered that this was the M.A.G.E. group we had rode out to found. I nudged my horse up to the person I had been talking to earlier. Alee had been her name.
“So this is the rebels…” I said, glancing out at the fast-growing crowd around us. “They look noble enough?”
She laughed. “Let’s hope so.” Her expression turned serious. “I hope we didn’t come all this way for nothing.”
((Revive? People?))
((Come on! Let’s revive this!))
LARA
“I hope we didn’t come all this way for nothing.” I heard someone say.
That couldn’t be true. We couldn’t have come all this way for nothing.
This was, after all, my last hope.
Cakeit, there had BETTER be something here.
((nothing to POST… nothing to post…))
((Pfffff hahahahaha my last post was funny.
I’m very sad this RPG lost steam–the story had a lot of potential and was quite fun to write. Here is what would have happened with my characters:
Gemina and Lysander would bring Lord Hammer’s proposal to Gemina’s uncle, a ruler of a large group of elves. He would decline the alliance and decide to sit out the war. While staying with the elves, Lysander would become nearly obsessed with the idea of beauty, which would be embodied for her in the character of Gemina. On their way back to the Capital, Gemina would disappear mysteriously, dramatically, and spectacularly (because she’s the Gemina mentioned in Demigod RPG and is actually Siriana and Cassiel’s sister, and she got thrown into the universe of this RPG while Siriana, Alec, and Ingrid got thrown into the universe of Demigod RPG when all the crazy stuff of their back story happened!). Lysander panics because Lord Hammer will think that she assassinated Gemina, which would guarantee the elves’ enmity against him, and the elves with think she assassinated Gemina, so really she has no one to turn to. Devastated by Gemina’s disappearance, she reasons that the Zealasdlfkjsdlkjf;laksjd;lfj people kidnapped her, so she infiltrates their ranks but can’t find Gemina anywhere (because she’s literally in another universe). They figure out that she’s Blade, the famous assassin, and try to kill her but she escapes. She looks for Gemina among the rebels but they think she’s a spy and turn on her too. Friendless and having lost her ideal, she targets the Necromancer, whom she blames for starting the whole ridiculous mess. She starts hunting him (he’s very hard to find because of magic and plot and suchsuch) but then she is almost killed by a man, who has been hunting her, sent by Lord Hammer who believes she has defected to the elves. She explains what happened, though, and amazingly enough he believes her. She’s completely freaking out by this point and has no faith in anyone anymore except for him. They fall in love and decide to go after the Necromancer together and mess with everyone who hurt them. I won’t claim that they kill the Necromancer because that would be a huge power move on my part, but they double-cross everyone and die together in the war.
Yup. All my characters die. That’s fun.))