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Thread: Ego Draconis

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    Talking Ego Draconis


    Theme Song:
    Swift Horse.

    Hello guys!, its finally finished! My greatest role play!

    Well first of all I would like to give you a great big welcome to Ego Draconis! This role play is open to anyone and everyone as long as you have the patience and the will to become dedicated to this role play!.

    I've decided to make a similar OP layout that resembles Takesh's role play to keep everything organised and so that more things can be added, and, of course, because there is a lot of reading!

    This is a mature fantasy Role Play, the first instalment of the Ego Draconis chronicles! Expect dragons, drama, blood, gore, plot twists, alcohol references, the odd timing of humour, and of course, epic narrative.

    As usual, the opening post is pretty long! take your time with reading the below information, and at one go it can be a difficult task to read, let alone remember every fine detail that this OP has to offer. Thank you for taking an interest and good luck in your future travels as a citizen of Heoden!

    ---------------


    Table of Contents:

    Intro part I –
    The Prophecy

    Intro part II –
    The Kingdom

    Intro Part III –
    The Ico Dynasty

    Empress Matia VI
    The Royal Bloodline

    Intro Part IV –
    The Races

    Humans
    Half-Giants
    Esper
    Elves
    Dwarves & Golems
    Drall
    Aviseom
    Celos

    Intro Part V –
    The elven sub-races

    Spirit Elf
    Tree Elf
    Blood Elf

    Intro Part VI –
    Dragon Lore

    The Dragon God
    The Three Dragon Lords
    The Golden Palace
    Nazgral

    Intro Part VII –
    The regions of Heoden (main settlements)

    Cyre
    Farglow
    Moonbreach
    Brimmingshire
    Iron Citadel
    Krystania

    Intro Part VIII –
    Creatures of Heoden

    Orcs & Goblins
    Sanguins
    *More To Be Announced*

    Intro Part IX –
    Classes

    Warrior
    Archer
    Elementalist
    Sage
    Pirate
    Assassin
    Shape shifter
    Dark Magician
    Bard

    Intro Part X –
    Rules

    Intro Part XI -
    Character Sheets

    -------------------------------------------------------------------

    Intro Part I -
    The Prophecy

    This story happened some time ago. This story is of brotherhood, and betrayal. It is a story of meaning in life, and nihilistic fatalism. It is a story with heroes, and villains, and all shades of characters in between. But beyond anything else this story is over. It has already happened, and there is nothing that can be done about its outcome. Do not fret for the lives that have been lost, so much as work for the lives that shall be. As Alarei, the Exile once said to his Disciples: “The past is carved in stone, but the future is written in water. It may either run through your fingers, or take whatever shape you make for it.”

    -

    Volume I:
    On Prophets and Prophecy

    Verse I, A gathering of many storms


    What is the story of the Kingdom of Heoden?
    It is a gathering of many storms
    As deeply, darkly dreaming dragons wake
    Stir, and drink from mortality's chalice.
    What is the story of the Kingdom of Heoden?
    It is a dirge, bereft of hope, forlorn.
    It is a summer's song over a lake,
    Pure, innocent, ignorant of malice.
    What is the story of the Kingdom of Heoden?
    It is a story of many choices and doors,
    As deeply, darkly dreaming dragons slake
    Endless thirst within their golden palace.
    The Kingdom of Heoden is under siege, and behind these gold-wrought gates
    A dark, once-dreaming dragon awakes, revels in darkness, lies in wait.
    -


    Verse II, An Exile Returned

    Heroes are forgotten by the legends,
    Flighty men, held high for their convictions.
    Though they are strong in body and in faith,
    They are lost in the shadows of the great.
    Heroes are forgotten by the legends,
    For there are prophets, speakers of visions,
    Who, divine by magic, or godly grace,
    And lead our people forward, weaving fate.
    Heroes are forgotten by the legends,
    There are Champions, cherished by nations,
    With the immense strength, and courage to face
    Our fell foes as they lay siege to our gates.
    In this age of Champions, Prophets, and Heroes, there is one more.
    The lost walker of shores and lands, the Exile, returned once more.

    -

    Verse III, The City of God


    The Exile is returned with Prophecy.
    He walks alone, with dark premonitions,
    Visions that haunt him in nocturne dreams
    Of unhinged doors and ancient, unleashed fears.
    The Exile is returned with Prophecy,
    And, gifted with arcane erudition,
    Has heard the cruel, unyielding, dying screams,
    And seen the shine of black forged swords and spears.
    The Exile is returned with Prophecy,
    A blade in hand and a noble vision.
    Who can say what the dreamer astray gleans?
    But it is a gathering storm he fears.
    In a forgotten city, an ancient race lived in iron shod.
    As storms gather, the Exile ventures into the City of God.


    -

    Intro Part II -

    The Kingdom of Heoden

    (Note to self: World name is Cyradon)


    The Kingdom of Heoden. A magnificent sprawling collection of countries united under a single banner. The Ico banner. Heoden has a long and illustrious recorded dating back 3,000 years, since the days that Gods and Dragons roamed these fabled lands. The continent of Heoden is dominated by the country of Cyre, an imperial nation of humans led by Empress Mattia VI of the noble Ico dynasty. It is, in all respects a very stereotypical nation of humans, with pastoral farmland, rolling hills of green grass, white, stone hewn cities, and so on and so forth. The city of Cyre is considered by all to be one of the five hubs of high civilization. The other “hubs of civilization” are the city of Farglow, the dwarven Iron Citadel, the city of Moonbreach, and, the “great gate” city of Krystania.


    Intro Part III –

    The Ico Dynasty


    Empress Mattia VI:
    Your ruler, Empress Mattia VI is one of the most beloved rulers to have ever been given power to rule over Heoden. Being renowned for her generosity and fair treatment, she has ruled over the continent for nearly 12 years, with no end close in sight. Mattia has been blessed with a son, the ruler of Farglow – Prince Malric, most notable for his noble voluntary service in the kingdom's army, participating in many major wars, and emerging victorious during his distinguished career as a commander.

    The Empress herself is in her late 50's, but somehow still retains her youthful looks that she had possessed 20 years earlier. It is unexplained how this can happen, it is as if she defies death's embrace itself. However, her people see it as an act of God, an act to keep her on the throne, taking care of Heoden for years to come, and none of her loyal subjects are none the wiser, they are entranced by her graciousness.

    The Royal Bloodline:
    The royal Iconian bloodline has kept power over the throne for the past 600 years. Those who belong to the royal Ico bloodline are rumoured to hold incredible powers which distinguish them as part of a tribe that transcends beyond that of any human being. It has been rumoured that the Iconians were birthed from magic, being one of the first human generations to be created by Amontine, the elven god of creation.

    The origins of the Ico family originated from the most southern reaches of the Orcish realms where no human has ever ventured into (only out). It is said that to the most southern reaches of the Orcish realm, there is a place, an unknown land to which the last of the gods walked, only to never return, and it is from this place that the first man had walked from. That single man was birthed from the Ico dynasty and, from the help of ancient godly relics created civilisation far to the north, in the city now known today as Cyre.

    Intro part IV -

    The Races.

    (Again, if you have any questions about the races or anything you want to add about them, send me a PM. I don't describe much about the generic fantasy characters because you already have the basic idea of how they are and what they look like.)


    Humans:
    Pretty much self-explanatory. The first human tribes originated from the most southern expanses of the orcish realms to the south, establishing themselves as one of the most dominant species in the world of Heoden. They are numbered with strong and hearty warriors, charming and eloquent scholars, precise archers and a number of other different trades. Humans at the current time rule over all the other races in Heoden. They are seen to be the most noblest of races, and the most sophisticated, but they lack the progression for the future. They have only developed themselves to be able to masons with stone, whilst other races, such as the Drall have progressed even further, to that of even creating flotillas (floating cities.)

    Half-Giants:
    Said to be a distant relative to the humans, the Half-Giants are a sentient race of tall beings, almost barbarian like and are said to reside within tribal villages. Their main focus of political powers comes from the “beer halls” which strewn their cities, but they are by far considered to be race that possesses the least intellect. However, it is told that every 1 in 50 half-giants possess the intellect that surpasses even that of a far intelligently superior species.

    Burly by nature, most half-giants make up with their loss of intellect by training their bodies to the ultimate build. Their skin is thick, like rock, and their eyes are fiery with the passion to kill. Some half-giants proceed into the growing stages of “Inuik” from the ages of 30 onwards. This is the stage in their life where they begin to grow horns from their skulls. Their horns are a sign of their superiority over other each other, and it trends that those who have the most biggest, and curliest horns (which wrap around their ears) are one of the most superior Half-Giants known wherever they go.

    Esper: (Playable race and NPC companion character)
    An Esper in reality can't take any shape for they are dead. They have no specific race. They are the souls of people who have died and chosen to come back as an imperial being that binds themselves to any person (which they call vessels), for whatever reason. They can be linked in earth's principals of a “Guardian Angel”. Since they have no default species appearance, they take whatever appearance of the species of the person they have bound themselves to, or, whatever race their “vessel” has demanded them to become.

    Besides being dead, the Esper race has a special racial trait that no other race has access to. They can materialise from the “real world” to what they call the “Veil”. The veil can also be linked back to the earth retrospect of purgatory or heaven. From there, an Esper retreats to meditate, rest, or even satisfy any other needs that they have. In the veil, only an Esper may venture.

    There is one downside for a being to become an Esper however, and perhaps one of the biggest downfalls to becoming such an idolised being. No Esper can remember their past life. To become an Esper, you trade one life *your own* to enter another, and this is the pact one must be willing to take if they want to live for another lifetime, or, until their “vessel” dies by unnatural means.

    Elves:
    There are 3 sub-races of Elves in the kingdom of Heoden, but it has been noted to be known that there are a variety of different elves scattered throughout the world. Elves are usually cunning and intelligent creatures, excelling in surveying, archery, hunting and other tasks which would take the knowledge of an expert huntsman.
    The 3 sub-races of elves are as follows: Blood Elf, Tree Elf and the Spirit Elf. These 3 elven races have unique distinct racial attributes and appearances that differentiate them from one another. All sub-races of elves have said to have come from one pure elf in the first age. This pure elf was elven in spirit, blood, and in nature which made him the most precious elf in elvenkind. However, this elf had the lifespan of a human, and in great fear of dying the elf requested that the elven Gods create three unique elven races which would be made from him, from his knowledge of nature, from his blood, and from his soul. This is what brought about the creation of the three distinct races, however, a pure elf has never been seen ever again since the first age.

    (More about the three distinct elven races will be described in the next section.)


    Dwarves and Golems
    Dwarves have developed past the stages of stone masonry which the Humans are currently at. Dwarves have compensated for their small stature by beginning to mass produce rifles and working with other metals which would make them deadly in both combat and smithery. Dwarves range in height from 3-4 feet, feeling the need to have unshaven beards with long thick locks of hair which mostly tend to cover their faces. Dwarves live for war, and as such, have access to a variety of war machines which allow them to wage destruction on their foes, one of these machines being the Golem.

    The Golem is a stone Goliath which towers at 7 feet. They were created during the second half of the third age, the rise of the Dwarves to help serve them in battle to compensate for areas in which they lack, mainly height and other otherwise unsaid weaknesses. The magnificent thing about Golems is that they are alive. They are not just machines made for the Dwarves destruction, they have their own personalities and traits, along with a fully functional brain and heart which makes them sophisticated killing machines that abide by their masters (the dwarves) rule. They are extremely loyal creatures which prefer to do battle with their fists of stone, destroying whatever stands in their way, their favoured weapon, if they had to choose would be a stone two-handed axe which they can form from the earth itself.

    The Golems tend to share the appearance of humanoids, they have no hair, and can neither grow thick beards as well. They are made from a greyish-black stone, but between the cracks a blue aura is visible around their whole body, this is the secret life-force which the Dwarves imbue them with. Even though they have their own soul, Golems were built for one purpose, war, and that is the torment that they are forced to abide by. Golems have no age span, they can live on forever, even after being “killed”. They only have to be imbued with the special Dwarven life-force one more and then they come back, with all their memories intact, this is what makes them so efficient as a war machine. They have no expiry date, some Golems can even date back as far as 900 years old.

    Drall
    The Drall are the most developed species in Heoden in every single aspect, by some people they are considered the perfect race. Their origins are unknown to all but them, as they choose mostly to keep to themselves. They are a neutral race, tending not to get involved with any political affairs, they seclude themselves with their lush, magnificent flotillas where they have resided for the past 500 years. They tend not to even visit the outside world, it is a rare occasion, an extremely rare occasion to see a Drall in broad daylight. They are the most mysterious sentient race known. As they are technologically superior, other races have tried to flock to them for knowledge of their technology, or even aid in battle, but because they are neutral, Drall seclude themselves from everybody except their own. Some say they are selfish, too proud to mix with others, and some say that they are afraid, afraid of change, and they fear for the day that they won't have the prestigious name that they hold so dear in future.

    The Drall tend to be very long and slender, 6 feet being the average height, but because they tend to be so thin they look much taller. Drall are dark green or blue in colour, and have dark black eyes. The Drall originate from the reptile family, they do not differentiate in the number of limbs than that of a human and have the average life span of 165 years. Their muscle tissue tends to be much more denser than that of humans, giving them a wiry strength. Many of their reptilian features are concealed, however one unique characteristic is the hyoid bone in their throats, which allows them to inflate their throats and produce vocal sounds outside of the human range. They also have two sets of eyelids, like crocodiles.

    The Drall possess eidetic memory, an adaptation to a world where they must remember the location of every necessary resource (vegetation, drinkable water and prey migration paths) across vast distances. The memories are so strong that an external stimulus can trigger a powerful memory recall. These recalls are so vivid and detailed that some Drall may mistake it for reality. This process can be involuntary, meaning, that they can randomly recall a memory in excruciating detail, unknowingly describing it to whoever is unfortunate (or blessed) to listen.

    Aviseom
    One of the forgotten branches of the elves. Aviseoms are typically born with one green eye and one gray eye, yet they all have heterochromia iridum. They also have skin like sun-baked clay, diamond shaped eyes, and black hair, being descendents from elves who lived in darkness thanks to the curse that rid most of Avis from the sun and the sea. They love balance, which is proven from their weapons, a combination of industrialization and magic. Most are hunters, using ranged, two-handed weapons, such as spears (though the poor often steal with daggers and such). They reside solely in Avis, which was created for them by the God they worship, Tervis.

    Celos
    The Celos are a race that live in the sea’s all around the world. The name of their race means in their language “water spring”, since they believe they are born from the first water spring of the earth. Some describe Celos as the elves of the water since they have the graceful build and ears that resemble the ears of the elves: long and pointy although the ears of the Celos look more like small flippers with membranes. Their skin is soft blue and their eyes have most of the time a sea green color. Hair can be any color except for red or any shades of red. Of course a shade of blue is common, but there are also Celos that have black or brown hair.

    Although Celos live underwater (they are able to breathe in water and on land) they are really more than your common merman. Clothing is a very important aspect of their culture. It is very unique with lots of detail. The more detail, the richer the Celos is. This is the same for their weapons which are strong and light, not meant to be used for heavy swordsmanship, but for fast killing.

    The Celos, hence living the water, are able to hear something that is in common language called the Voice of the Ocean. To describe it would be hard since it is something that cannot be measured in words. The people of the water see the ocean, besides from being their home, as a pure form of life, maybe perhaps as life itself. This form of life has its own voice which constantly resonates through the sea, unheard by any human ears, but all people from the race of the water can understand its basic meaning. Those who can completely understand it are those who are simply called the Listeners. They have a high place in the society of the people of the water for they have the power to hear the oceans bids and even make alterations in its pattern. It is not for nothing that so less is known about the people for the water for the Listeners tend to hold off every living creature that doesn’t belongs with them with their power to change the sea.

    Don’t get it wrong though. The Listeners don’t command the sea, they don’t control it, they merely make alterations in the pattern of the Voice of the Ocean and they do this in the name of Ocean. They don’t want by any means dominate the sea. Also when they can, they refrain from using this ability since they believe that nature should be as pure as possible. Yet when necessary they will not hold back to use the full force of the sea.

    Changing is preformed as said earlier by making alterations in the melody that can be called the Voice of the Ocean. You could see it like playing a melody in major and suddenly you add some notes and suddenly the song continues in minor. Those alterations are making a difference and can make a huge difference when played correctly and at the right time. Playing happens mostly through various instruments, but there are also people of the water known for their ability to sing with the sea.


    Intro part V -

    The elven sub-races


    Spirit Elf
    The spirit elf, also known as the grand elf. These are the most purest and innocent of the sub-races, and are mostly of female category, with a 1 to 50 male distribution between them. They tend to have soft white skin, following a fair complexion and long luscious hair which usually falls to their waist (women). They tend not to resort to violence, yet to the arts of healing which they focus most of their skills on. They make extremely powerful medics in battle, and can learn a few destructive spells to help protect them in battle. Some spirit elves tend to slightly walk away from their pure heritage and focus all their gifted abilities in offensive combat, and doing so can make them an equally powerful opponent to all who face them. These destructive spirit elves make use of the element of light to purify their foes or manipulate light in ways which can vaporize their enemies if they choose to do so.

    Spirit elves have long pointy ears which extend past their heads, they have been known to have extremely sensitive ears, and with such can detect a sound within a one mile radius making them useful scouts in replacement to the Tree Elf. They tend to wear silk clothes which tend to hang loosely from their thin frames, with sky blue hair flowing to their waists. Their eyes are a different story, gold in hue it makes them look like the perfect image of an angel, with no iris, only a golden yolk

    Tree Elf
    The tree elf, the generic elf in modern fantasy book and film adaptations. They breathe life into trees and prefer to live in solitude, embracing mother nature and relying on primitive tools to get by in life. They enjoy to hunt and fashion tree homes out of whatever they can scavenge. Most tree elves tend to become archers in battle, and tend to stay out of politics and away from industrialised cities, they feel that it makes them feel “dirty” if they enter a city, and those who do like cities have been named betrayers of their kind. Tree elves are a proud race, loyal to their standards of living, and limited to change, making them one of the technologically inferior races. Their compromise of living in cities is within the Spirit Elves homes, who live in beautiful fortresses (which share details from elven homes in Lord of the Rings.)

    They have pale skin, just like humans and their elven ears are pointy, but only extend 3 inches past that of a humans ear.

    Blood Elf
    The most notable trait of a blood elf is their blood red skin colour, which is most likely how they got their name. Natural born warriors with an athletes build, Blood Elves are the front line defence of the Elven population. Each sub-race protects the other, and they live peacefully in coexistence with each other. Although Blood Elves can't make use of any magic, and are useless with bows, they are proficient in sword-wielding, however, this does not mean that they lack intellect, or the dexterity to accurately pull a bow string, each sub-race has their disadvantages, which the other race makes up for, making three of each single sub-race elf together as powerful as a single pure elf.

    The blood elves ears are far different from the other two sub-races. Instead of growing past their heads, a blood elves pointy ears coil around the helix, which is quite bizarre, but the other two elven races are envious of this trait.

    Blood elves tend to paint themselves in white paint with palm prints and spirals across their bodies as indication of their uniqueness and love for bizarre fashion. The blood elves are superior in strength, but can also make great use of their survival instinct and cunning intellect in means of outsmarting opponents. As well as wielding swords, Blood elves can use daggers, making them natural born assassins, pirates, and shape shifters (shape shifting does not require the use of magic.)

    Intro Part VI -

    Dragon Lore

    The Dragon God
    Harbinger, the world eater. The infamous dragon god who is entirely known for the destruction of Heoden, the shifting of its united states into bordered countries. The Dragon God almost entirely saw to the complete destruction of the Gods of Heoden, until finally being defeated, banished from Heoden for an eternity. The Dragon itself was defeated by Alarei, who struck a devastating blow to its left eye with his sword, Anveleine. The dragon has been said to have the wing span of 200 feet (the average house is 50-60 feet) with the body being twice the size of one of its wings. The dragon is a ghastly black in colour, with hellish red eyes and menacing fangs that could make mince-meat of a city.

    Not much is actually known about the dragon other than that listed above. The dragon reigned hell on Heoden for a single day, but in that time almost destroyed the entire world, shattering the foundations of the world to its very core forever before finally being slain by Alarei, the exile god.

    The Three Dragon Lords
    Said to still be alive today, the three dragon lords were Harbinger's most loyal servants, but only span half the size of the Dragon God itself. However, they are not to be messed with. Being Harbinger's lieutenants make them a force to be feared. They helped orchestrate the violent frenzy that Harbinger laid bare to the world and saw to the destruction of the most ancient race, wiped from the face of the world. Like Harbinger, not much more is known about them, nor how they came to be, but one thing is for sure, after Harbinger was destroyed, they went into an eternal slumber, mourning their master for the rest of their days in seclusion.

    Nazgral
    Also known as dragon haven, this is the only place where dragons reside today in comfort. They are not to be hunted or made extinct as long as they stay within the barriers of this safe haven. Nazgral has been home of the dragons for the past 1,000 years, and in that time they have grown comfort in the varying landscape. Nazgral spans the size of 2,444,820 square kilometres (the size of England.)
    Nobody is allowed to enter this one dragon haven, as part of a peaceful coexistence act made by both the Ico Empire, and the dragonkind.

    Intro part VII -

    The regions of Heoden (the main settlements)


    Cyre
    The central hub of human civilisation, Cyre is the largest city in Heoden, and to put into perspective, is about twice the size of New York, America. The city if fortified by a gigantic impenetrable stone wall which encircles the entire city. There are four entrances into the city, conveniently located to the north, south, east, and western parts of the city.

    The city itself is home to the Ico family, the current rulers of Heoden. Cyre is what you can expect of any capital city of a country, being the centre of political power, trade, population density and it is a city with mixed races living amongst each other or just passing through with business. I will not describe where Cyre is located just yet to avoid confusion. I will make a visual representation of where everything is located to avoid confusion what so ever, also known as a map .

    Farglow
    The elven city of Heoden. Farglow is a Spirit Elf city, in which all elven sub-races can be found. There are plenty of racial textures and qualities about the city which makes it appealing to all
    sub-races so everybody is happy. The city is encircled by an elven magical shield, and divided into three individual sectors for each sub-race. The northern third of the city it the Spirit Elf sanctum, here you can find anything pure and beaming with grace, high white rock formed buildings line the streets, with bustling markets in the centre. The second sector, to the east is the Tree Elf sanctum. This sanctum can be basically imagined as a large collection of high trees and low-lying shrubbery which is pleasing to tree elves. Their homes are built high up near the tops of the trees and none of the other elven sub-races choose to venture into here, as they feel that it is...awkward...for them to navigate. Third and final sector of the city lies to the west. The blood elf keep. This sanctum is basically the industrial centre of the city. This is where all the smithery takes place, but, put into aspect is considered to be the most beautifully average sector for the working class as you would see in today's society.

    Moonbreach
    Moonbreach can be described as a gigantic sprawling forest which was “planted” by Amontine as part of his paradise, a garden. The trees are all perfectly aligned, making it possible to stand in one part of the forest and look directly out to the exit. This place is home to many tree elves, as well as every exotic creature you can think of. Moonbreach got its name because of the fact that, at night, when the moon is at its highest point and shining directly down over Moonbreach, rays of moonlight breaks through the trees in focused beams, creating a beautiful scene. Moonbreach is considered to be the Tree Elves capital city, and is also nicknamed “Amontine's Playground.”

    Brimmingshire
    Brimmingshire is an average human settlement, not too small to be called a village, and not quite big enough to be considered a city, stuck in between. Nothing is of unique note to state about this settlement other than the fact that it is a small fishing settlement, and is a boat gateway from the continent of Heoden altogether, to the expanses of the other lands and different countries not part of Heoden's kingdom because of the fact that the wind blows eastwards, away from Heoden making it faster to travel the seas by sail. It is also the place where Alarei first visits after returning from his exile, and it is where his story begins.

    Iron Citadel
    The Iron Citadel, it has withstood some of the greatest battles ever laid siege to its walls for over 900 years. The Iron Citadel is the dwarven home city. A gigantic fortress which lays in the centre of an even bigger quarry. The fortress itself has been built underneath for year upon year. Meaning, that it is far bigger than the mind can calibrate because of the expansive underground tunnels and dwarven homes underneath the citadel. If not for Cyre, the Iron Citadel would be the largest city in Heoden, and the fact that it isn't a city because it is literally only one building. Too large for your human mind to begin to even comprehend.

    Krystania
    Nicknamed the “Great Gate” because of the fact that it is the only way in which the southern Orcish tribes can enter through to Heoden because of the fact that the whole southern expanses of Heoden is covered in snowy mountains. It is the first line of defence against the orcish invasion and is home to the worlds most strongest fighters.

    Krystania is fairly large city, having an estimated population of 20,000. The city itself majestic and full of wonder. Sitting on the side of a mountain is the castle, overlooking the rest of the city. It is fairly wealthy, making most of its money off of merchants and trading. It also has mines, where silver and ore are mined.

    Krystania is the most famous city in Heoden, even more famous than Cyre. The reason for this is because it is the very ground where the first orcish war was ended. All the races banded together (including the Drall) approximately 600 years ago to fight off the biggest Orcish invasion ever known (think on par of the war that rages in the trilogy of the Lord of the Rings.) From that point Krystania was established, being the first line of defence against another Orcish invasion, which still yet has to occur after nearly 600 years.


    (You may be wondering why I haven't chosen to add all of the races homelands, well basically the places described above are the ones which will play detrimental parts to the story and I only thought I should include places which will be role played in ((although other locations will be role played in)) so I hope this clears any confusion, and if you want to know what the other races homelands are, just give me a pm and I'll give a general description.)


    Intro part VIII -

    The creatures of Heoden


    Orcs & Goblins
    There is not much to describe here. You all have your own familiarities with the evil and vile creatures so I will leave it to your perceptions to know how they act and what they look like. They usually operate in groups of 5-8, scouting groups, although 600 years prior, they were known to travel in their 1,000's. They have no leader, yet have war chiefs who coordinate their attacks. They are uncivilised and care not for pretty things. That is all.

    Sanguins
    Sanguins are lizard-like creatures which roam the world. They are not rare at all, in fact many people suffer from these said creatures attacks. They are a menace who are somehow related to dragons, however their only similarity seems to be their ability to breath fire. They do not resemble dragons even though they are lizard-like. Oathkeepers slay these creatures and drink their blood, they are specialized in killing Sanguins.

    Intro Part IX-

    The Classes

    (This will be kept general so people can adapt each class to their specific requirements.)
    (Don't worry too much about the classes, it is just to get a general idea of what kind of fighter you want to lean your character towards.)

    Warrior
    The basic sword-wielding class. Warriors usually attack their enemies with brute strength and clever cunning. They usually wear metal armour to deflect attacks from enemies and can easily dispatch enemies from close range.

    Archer
    Archers use bow and arrows, crossbows or even rifles to attack their foes. They obviously attack from range, choosing to stay back from close combat where they are not skilled in. They are highly agile and can do a number of acrobatic moves to avoid any attacks which may come near them.

    Elementalist
    The mage class of the role play. Elementalists can manipulate two elements of their choosing, conjuring a great amount of spells to kill their opponents, like the archer they attack from range. The elements which an elementalist can manipulate are fire, water, earth and wind.

    Dark magician
    A different kind of magician than the elementalist, instead of using the elements they rely more on the darker aspects of magic. Curses, necromancy, blood sacrifices. This doesn’t make them necessarily evil, only choosing to manipulate life energy instead of the elements.

    Sage
    Sages are like Shape shifters, their only difference being that they cannot turn into creatures, they merely summon them. Sages can summon two creatures at once to attack their enemies, whichever summons they have trained to use. Sages are one with nature, just like tree elves and can also cast small damaging spells which would usually be used to pull pranks and jynxs.

    Pirate
    Having access to their own ship and sea-faring crew, a pirate travels the seas in search of grand adventure and cliché chests of gold. They are feared by all those who are not fans of pirates, and sea-creatures of all manner of ugly. Each pirate can reap a lot of gold if you choose to bring one to justice and bring their...remains....before the Empress.

    Assassin
    Assassins are the rogue class in the role play. They make use of daggers and their sly sneaking skills to get the drop on the enemy. They can quickly infiltrate hard to reach areas and enemy territory in which a warrior would normally just run into with swords swinging. They usually conceal their face to avoid any attention.

    Shape Shifters
    Shape shifters, a bizarre class at that. They do exactly as it says on the tin. They can morph into a variety of different powerful creatures and are a force to be reckoned with. Shape Shifters can speak in their own language, which can easily be called “nature language”. They usually use nature language as a incantation to turn into the creature that they desire.

    Bard
    Bards are people who fight more with words than with weapons and if they fight they often use forms of mind control like illusions. They are good listeners and speakers and tent to be able to find the most deepest secrets or newest gossips quite easily. Their music skills are exceptional, mostly on one specific instrument or with their voice.

    Intro Part X-

    Rules

    This is a high fantasy campaign of epic proportions, in the sense that the storyline has the potential of enduring. I should hope that we have the time to explore all the facets of its potential and live vicariously through the characters we create here. To lay some ground rules, here is what you should expect.

    (*)This is a role playing campaign for writers of advanced quality. If you are not of advanced quality, you will not be participating, unless you are willing to commit for the length of the Role Play and to at least extend the length of your posts to 5 paragraphs, no less, and no 3 lines paragraphs either .

    (*)You are just as important and pivotal to the story as much as Alarei, the Exile. Give your character a reason for his goals and motivations, why he or she is doing the things they are doing, and why do they ally themselves with Alarei.

    (*)Not going along the lines of giving me your CS in PM anymore, you can post them here any time you want and I will check over them when I have the time.

    (*)All of onrpg's role playing rules exist in this Role Play, here is a link to where you can find them here: Roleplaying rules.

    (*)If you want to add something to the lore of Heoden, please ask me via PM beforehand. Perhaps it is an idea for a new sentient race? Or perhaps an important part of Heoden's history. This RP is just as much mine, as it is yours, and I want it to be as much as an enjoyable experience for you as it possibly can!

    (*)Do not write detail just for the sake of adding detail. If writing something feels like a chore, chances are, reading it will be too. So, if you can't think of anything to write for your character – don't. The RP doesn't have to progress in a “Round Robin” type style, just whenever you have anything worthy to be add.

    (*)Last but not least, have fun guys, let your imaginations run wild, there is a vast beautiful dark world (Oxymoron FTW!! ) waiting to be explored, and it is your duty, as a disciple of Alarei the Exile, to restore its order and rise to become the most iconic figures in the history of the continent of Heoden.

    Intro part XI -

    Character Sheets


    Name:

    Age:

    Gender:

    Race:

    Class:

    Appearance:

    Weapons:

    Personality:

    Skills/Abilities: (Select only two skills) Your skills and abilities are those which you would use for the general use of combat or to aid in combat.

    Perks: (Select only 3 perks.) Your perks on the other hand are secondary skills which are used to benefit your character in any other way other than fighting, and also defines who you are as a character, whether it be your vast arcane knowledge or the fact that you know how to craft arrows, if you are still unsure send me a pm.

    History:

    You find a small journal, bound in faded brown leather and bound with a simple red cloth. On the front of the journal you see the familiar crest of a dragon, yet you cannot place its origins. Inside you see a small letter, alongside a piece of a much larger document, pinned to the first page you see the basis of a persons biography, but some of the letters have faded with age.



    Name: Alarei.

    Age: 21 [5 year exile]

    Gender: Male.

    Race: Human.

    Class: Warrior.

    Anything else is blocked by water damage and time. The pages are yellowed with age and crinkle loudly as you turn the page. The only thing on the first page is a written description of the author. You give it a glance, to see perfect cursive writing under it in a consistent, black ink.


    Appearance:
    Alarei is not the tallest of men, standing at a height of some five feet, nine inches. He is lean and lithe, with a tight, sinewy build formed from the rough lifestyle of a wandering man. His hair is a jet black which also holds with medium length variant which he would usually form into a loose ponytail. His skin is weather worn and deeply tanned from sun exposure. Runic tattoos of enigmatic origin creep along the left side of his body and up his neck in intricate designs and asymmetrical patterns. He has uneven stubble with rough, battle-worn features. Although many scars line his body, (with a single thin scar slyly embedded across his left eye) one cannot help but feel admiration for him or feel attracted towards him in some sort of way because of his curious charisma, or the fact, that underneath those rough looks, there is something beautiful inside, a soul of purity. His golden brown eyes are anything but soft, possessing an intense glimmer of fire and strength that complement a harsh, unforgiving gaze that, more often than not, appears to be a glare rooted in determination and fortitude.

    (Chosen not to describe Alarei's attire because Alarei does not have a set attire for the RP, he usually changes after each adventure, and I will always describe his new apparel and indicate when he has changed again. He is not a compulsive dresser by the way . Everybody changes clothes from time to time . Just Sayin'.)


    Personal Effects:
    Alarei has few possessions in addition to his clothing, the most important of these being his sword. The blade is a double-edged straight long sword with runic engravings upon the hilt, which seem to match Alarei's tattoos. Along with this he also wears a mysterious pendant around his neck, with the centrepiece being that of a blood red jewel which he has kept with since the day of his exile, it is the only material possession linking him to his past.

    Weapons:
    The Sword of Anveleine:
    The runic sword was forged deep inside the scorching magical fires of the country of Anveleine, the supposed birthplace of Amontine, the god of creation. It is the only one of its existence and was forged long ago, dating back to the time of when gods roamed the world. It is also, rumoured, to be the very sword that had slain the dragon god by the exiled god, Alarei.

    It is unknown how this wondrous sword came into present Alarei's hands, but it prey tells that it will be meeting the scaly skin of another dragon once more.

    The appearance of the sword is elaborate and visually stunning. It is cast from a magical metal, which shares the same appearance of silver. The handle of the sword is laced by a black ribbon to form comfort, there is also a sky blue jewel present as a centrepiece in the hilt. The blade then extends out past the hilt, with numerous arcane like runes engraved onto the actual blade itself, before forming at the sharp tip of the blade. The sword in whole is light and superior in strength, with enough strength to cut through a dragons scales let alone a humans skin.

    Personality:
    Alarei is an enigmatic, reserved individual, preferring to keep his history and future to himself, however, he does like to share personal experiences should there be a pint of ale in his hands. He is wizened by experience, and in his quest has little time for frivolity or humour, although, there are times where he takes the eager opportunity to let down his hair so to speak, and relax. He has a mission of utmost importance, and despite the vague knowledge he has of his noble quest, he has the mind set to match its gravity.

    Alarei is an auspicious figure, and a deeply religious man, believing in particular, the deity of Amontine, the God of creation. Not only does Alarei believe in himself, but also the hands whom he lays his life. He believes everybody deserves a chance at life and he will stop at nothing to make sure that the people he meets along his travels are at no despair and that their problems are set at ease by any means in which he can help, as long as it does not conflict with his important and noble quest.

    Skills/Abilities: (Select only two skills.) Your skills and abilities are those which you would use for the general use of combat or to aid in combat.

    Runic Magic:
    Alarei's body and the blade of his sword are imbued with runes that take the form of tattoos and engravings, respectively. These runes allow him to tap into vast wells of magical energy and power and give him the ability to manipulate arcane forces in countless ways, he is able to conjure two different elements, that of fire and water, both conflicting elements which Alarei uses in such a way that benefits his allies but also devastates his enemies. The exact details of the spells that he can conjure is not well known but they can range from different spectacular and wondrous things. However, with all power, there are limits to what they can do before it begins to exhaust Alarei's body which can prove to be a very detrimental weakness in battle.

    True Vision:
    Alarei is gifted with the powerful magical power of divination and prophecy, which allow him to “see” across vast distances of time and space, into minds, and through illusions. True Vision can be described as Alarei's third eye, allowing him to perceive events before they actually occur, but only in fragments. The future can always change and alas, Alarei cannot always rely on these visions, only use them as a reference to guide him on his mission.

    The skill of True Vision, as mentioned earlier, allows Alarei to see into peoples minds, passive skills involved with this include telepathy and to read fragments of past memories from people he comes into contact with, merely through touching them. This can be useful in interrogations, and other kinds of situations in which it would benefit him in his journey.

    Perks: (Select only 3 perks.) Your perks on the other hand are secondary skills which are used to benefit your character in any other way other than fighting, and also defines who you are as a character, whether it be your vast arcane knowledge or the fact that you know how to craft arrows, if you are still unsure send me a pm.

    Naturist:
    5 years of seclusion, moving from settlement to settlement, and learning chemistry among the divine elves of the north wind has allowed Alarei to learn basic botany among plants (such as creating healing elixirs) and chemistry among humans (through the likes of detecting critical and vulnerable striking points.) This knowledge is safeguarded by elves who wish not for their secrets to be known by the outside world, as fear of it doing more worse than good. You could say, that Alarei has gained a keen eye for judging his surroundings, finding hidden tracks and quickly finding the whereabouts of certain individuals. He has the nature knowledge of the most divine north wind elves within the strong vessel of a human body.

    Cavalier:
    Alarei has a keen obsession for horse riding, and, as such, owns his own horse, Sombre. He has kept the black stallion for little under two years now, a gift from a farmer whom he provided service for during a time of recovery. Sombre is said to be one of the fastest breeds of horse you can find in the province of Heoden, and as such, matches Alarei's skill for horse back riding.

    Silver-Tongued Devil:
    Alarei's voice is smooth and eloquent, suggesting a natural charisma and sense of self-worth. A few words with Alarei could inspire the most cowardly of men, or imbue the lost man with a sense of hope and fortitude. This gift is part of what adds the finishing touches to the elusive character that is Alarei, and perhaps is one of his most dangerous gifts in the eyes of the enemy...

    History:
    Alarei's past is enigmatic and shrouded in uncertainty as much as the man himself. His true name, his past, and the purpose behind his departure from Cyre long ago remain entirely unknown. What is known is that, in self-imposed exile, Alarei departed from the kingdom of Cyre, and ultimately the continent of Heoden entirely, to travel lands far and wide. During his five years in seclusion he travelled to the island of Caj and ingratiated himself with the Sultan himself, to whom he is known as Jaadir, the Soothsayer. He lived among the Drall of the Savage Isles, to whom he is known as Ruhan, the apprentice. He dwelled among the elves of the of the colonies of the Centre Tree, who named him Alarei, the exiled god, the son of Amontine, the god of creation. It was in the company of these elves, the guardians of the prophecy of the Ark, that he discovered his arcane vision, the burning gates, and his destiny.

    Oathsworn to the prophecy, Alarei spent two years traversing the world once more on his journey home. He arrived in Farglow, true to his vision, that the palace of the Dragon King had been discovered and was being opened to privatised exploration. Without time to lose, Alarei set out to assemble a team of adventurous men and women to embark on a quest that could lead to the preservation of the world.

    The next few pages have pieces of documents, maps and other miscellaneous papers wrinkled in straight lines, like they were folded up in the past. Each seem like pieces of more documents, official ones with fading seals. They look like Dolorian military symbols, the phoenix on top of the mountains. All around them are more scribbles. Two specific paragraphs five pages in, one around an important looking document, another next to a lock of hair, stand out.



    Lurs, 14th Marx, 146.
    ...Saved a Duke. The duke of Bremmingshire. There has been talk about a...me...Alarei. The man that has come home to offer riches and wonders to all those who call for it. I have. Returning from a five year exile has brought enlightenment to my once young and eager eyes. My first visit was in fact, as you could have deciphered, Bremmingshire. I was walking along a cracked cobble road which gave direction to a dimly lit firefly light at the end of the harbour. There was a commotion brewing from among some shipping crates so I decided to investigate.

    What I had found however was the Duke of Bremmingshire, Aldridge. A few cut-purse bandits were attempting to steal from the frail old man as he was returning to his manor. I managed to intervene and was compensated with the audience of the Duke himself, as well as a place to stay for the following three nights. I traded magnificent tales with the Duke, Aldridge. Before I left, he told me rumours that would aid me on my mission. The reopening of a dragon's tomb no less. It is disheartening to see that my visions are actually becoming reality. I must make haste. I need to return to Cyre. I must also begin to unite a group of adventurers who would like to aid me on my quest, as I have envisioned, in the near future, that I have a band of stalwart companions by my side in furious combat.


    Tarn, 29th Crontis, 146.
    I decided to settle the fellowship for the night. We had a harsh journey the past couple of days, with no rests in between, so it was heartening for the group as they had a chance to unwind and swap stories of the years gone by. We have all developed a strong bond over the short time that we have all been together. The prophecy has indeed aided me in forming a band of reliable and sturdy friends that will fight alongside me to the end. I just hope that the day doesn't come that they, and I have to face what my visions have foretold. The vision that blinds m--

    The rest of the text has become undecipherable. You stop to scavenge through the rest of the junk in the room that you occupy, with much granted luck you find another leather bound journal, this time a far thicker one. On the front, another crest, but this time it is completely unfamiliar to you. The title that graces the journal is called...


    Ego Draconis
    ...and so the tale begins...
    Last edited by Anglo; 08-06-2011 at 09:06 PM.

    Revenge Solves Everything.

  2. #2
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    (( OOC: Ah, there it is ^^. I'll send you a PM shortly after I post this Anglo. ))

    \\Character Sheet\\

    Name: Maiyu Lavinthel (Given name, see History)
    Age: 27
    Gender: Female
    Race: Human
    Class: Shape shifter
    Appearance:

    Head: Maiyu has a short scarlet hair which is as wild as she is. Unfortunately she rarely reveals her face so her hair is also concealed most of the time. She has a pair of bizarre eyes, trademark for a member of the Oathkeepers. Both eyes have two colors (+ iris in the middle) in them and they are shaped like Yin & Yang symbol. The colors Maiyu has are green and yellow, both which have their own impact on her senses (explained in Skills & Perks). Maiyu is not a supermodel but she is beautiful nonetheless. She also has a black tattoo over her left cheek which reaches all the way to her throat. She wears a dark brown hood over her head all the time, she takes it off only when she sleeps in a bed.

    Torso & Arms: Maiyu's outfit consists of a dark brown coat which has a 10 cm split in the bottom, the coat is also padded with small metallic plates. Under the coat she has a dark purple shirt which sleeves have been cut (tank top). She has bandaged both her arms all the way to her shoulder, hands not included. She wears black gloves most of the time. The coat is kept closed with four round buttons in the front however it only covers her torso and arms, her legs are fully visible because the coat isn't meant to cover the whole body. She has an assortment of throwing knives lined all around her body, for easy access. There is also a slot for a small crossbow on the left side of the coat and both her chakrams are hanging from a belt on the right side of the coat.

    Legs: Maiyu wears dark brown leather pants with dark red patches on the side. She has received numerous cuts on her legs, thus the pants have been patched a lot. There are numerous throwing knives attached to her pants too. As for shoes she wears long dark brown boots which reach her knees and have a sort of collar there. There are knives strapped on both her boots so that they pop out on her command and inflict damage just by jumping on the enemy.

    Weapons: Maiyu prefers long range combat, thus she has a multitude of poisonous throwing knives attached all over her body. She also has a small crossbow and all the bolts she has currently with her are strapped under the coat, out of sight. These are her long range weapons, however everyone knows you can't always avoid close quarters combat so she has a pair of chakrams for that. Her chakrams do work in long range combat too but they aren't as accurate as the knives. The chakrams are round and sharp, the handle part has a thick layer of leather in order to prevent cuts.

    Personal effects: A simple golden bracelet which Maiyu has no idea of it's origin. The bracelet bears an insignia however it is unknown to her. She never wears the bracelet but she always keeps it with her.

    Personality: Maiyu doesn't open up to people anymore. She has trust issues however these can be overcome. You won't see her acting too friendly but this doesn't mean that she is mean either. She likes to keep her ”Mysterious Stranger” status. She is a trustworthy ally in combat if you've earned her trust. The problem is do you have enough faith to truly trust her?

    Skills/Abilities:

    Yin - Her eyes which she received from the ritual enhance some of her abilities. The green color(Yin) enhances eyesight which is the most important of senses for her. It enables her to see further than your average human, and it also greatly increases her accuracy. It's as if the target slows down when she uses the eye, making it very easy to hit it.

    Web of Strings – This is the only ability which Maiyu has that involves magic. She can form thin but durable strings from her fingertips with the use of magic. These strings can be attached to anything, however Maiyu prefers to use the strings in two different ways.
    One of them is that she attaches the strings into her throwing knives, thus enabling greater control over the knives (enables her to throw more than only two knives at once). It is handy if the target is especially agile.

    The other way works as a trap. She lays down a web of these said strings, wait for her opponents to tangle into them and then finish them off while they are fighting their way out of the web. The web also works as an alert mechanism. Maiyu can attach the string to her finger and lay the rest on the ground. If someone steps on the strings on the ground, Maiyu is alerted immediately by it. Works well when she is sleeping in the wilds.


    Perks:

    Poison Ivy – The name explains the perk quite well. Maiyu is capable of making different kinds of poisons which she extracts from different flowers. She learned it when she was being trained by the Oathkeepers. It was one of the very first things which she learned there.

    Yang - The yellow color in her eyes enhances her sense of smell. It enables her to track down her targets more easily. She received it from the ritual which she had to undergo in order to become a member of the Oathkeepers. If both eyes are used simultaneously, her eyes will emit a faint color of yellow.

    Alchemy – Maiyu has learned how to create potions which enhance her skills. The effects last only a little while but they can save her life in a pinch. The potions can enhance anything; including her physical strength, senses, resistance against fire etc. There are side-effects to these poisons but they don't usually hinder Maiyu too much. The more drastic the benefit of the potion, the more visible side-effects it has.


    History: (( It's a long one. ))
    Maiyu lived her childhood in the village of Inoua, in the southern part of the kingdom of Heoden (not too southern of course). She was brought to a certain woman's door as an infant. The woman took her in and raised her. To this day she has no idea who her real parents are, nor what her real heritage is. As a child, Maiyu was cheerful and she was able to express love easier than most. It was one of the prime reasons why the villagers all seemed to love her in a way, she was like everyone's child there. She also worked hard alongside the other villagers even though she was a child. It was impossible to tell her not to do it so they just let her help.

    When she turned 17, a group of men and women arrived into her village. They were searching for a new recruit into their guild, the Oathkeepers. Of course Maiyu had no intentions of joining this guild, she loved the village in which she lived. Yet these men took one from the village, whether they liked it or not.
    They saw something in Maiyu, a talent to become one of them. The village members tried to bargain her out of it, however their efforts were in vain. The members had no intentions of leaving Maiyu here. The strangers would've mercilessly killed the villagers if she hadn't gone with them so she voluntarily left in the end. Just before they took Maiyu away, her foster mother gave her a bracelet which she had carried as an infant. Her foster mother told her to cherish it and never lose it; Maiyu has kept her promise on that.

    Maiyu's life changed drastically after that. She was thrown into a vortex which only offered pain and suffering. She was forced into the guild, and there she trained for a year. Once she turned 18, she went through the dreaded ritual. The ritual was simple but it could kill you, in fact Maiyu belonged to one of the three out of twenty who survived the ritual. She was forced to drink the blood of Sanguin which was like drinking poison. She went through immense pain once she had drank the blood, she saw visions during that time which riddle her even now. The ability to sense your enemy was a huge burden, she would always sense them and they would always sense her.

    After the ritual, Maiyu started changing. She would still be under training for at least two years before she would be a full fledged member of the Oathkeepers. During those harsh years her personality started changing. She became cold to those around her, she wouldn't talk to anyone and she avoided contact with others. Slowly she was starting to lose herself, as if she was becoming a mere tool, a husk with no emotions. This was sadly according to the plan for Dragan who led the guild. Every member had to become emotionless killing machines without a shred of mercy for their victims.

    This was Dragan's goal from the start. He believed in absolute control, in absolute annihilation. He believed one can not kill their enemy thoroughly if they have mercy.. brought by emotions. This was his policy which he clinged onto from the start. He himself was a monster of a man who trusted only himself. The guild was a way for him to control people.. to submit them to his will. The guild was respected thanks to their efforts but only a few knew how horrible it actually was. The worst part was that if someone refused to do his bidding, Dragan would kill them. Maiyu wasn't foolish enough to even try escaping, she would immediately be Dragan's next target. No one survived long if Dragan was after them, he had proven it multiple times.

    It seemed all attempts of escaping this wretched place were for naught. Maiyu spent another four years hunting Sanguins and training in the tower. By the end of the fourth year, she had stopped speaking. She wouldn't even look at anyone. Dragan was more than pleased with her efforts, she was becoming a more and more valuable asset for him. Whether she had truly became an emotionless husk, or more frail and broken than you could even begin to imagine, was a question which was never sought an answer.

    Then the day arrived, the day which would change Maiyu's fate in the tower. Maiyu had been hatching a plan, a plan to murder all the Oathkeepers in the tower including Dragan Loth. It was a rather complicated plan and very hard to carry out. The plan was to poison everyone in the tower however there were two things to consider: If the poison killed someone, it would immediately alert the others which would result them to abandon the tower. This meant the poison had to be extracted on every level of the tower, poisoning everyone at the same time. The other problem was Maiyu's escape route, naturally she would have to be as far away from the tower as possible. This meant that she would have to start from the top and descend to the lowest level in order to make it out in time.

    Dragan was no fool, he would quickly realize if something was off. Thus the poison had to be hidden well and fast on all 30 floors. Then the distraction Maiyu had wished came. A group of Sanguins had found their way to the root of the tower, alarming the rest of the Oathkeepers. Dragan was more than happy to join the fight. Not all of the Oathkeepers joined the fight so Maiyu still had to be careful when placing the poison ”bombs”. Maiyu was quick enough to place most of the poison ”bombs” before the Sanguins were slaughtered. Once all the Oathkeepers returned from their ”meal”, she herself exited from the window on the lower floors and let the poison do the rest.

    Maiyu left the tower with a smile on her face for the first time in a long, long time. Her joy was quickly out-lived however; a furious roar blasted from behind her only moments after her escape. Dragan had survived, and he was out for Maiyu's blood. Consumed by rage, Dragan started chasing Maiyu who ran as fast as she could away from him. Together, they entered the Forest of Whispers..

    (( OOC: This will be where Maiyu's story starts from. ))
    Last edited by Takesh; 03-08-2011 at 10:24 AM.

  3. #3
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    Name: Blue Vaiyon

    Age: 25

    Gender: Male

    Race: Thought to be Human

    Class: Warrior

    Appearance: Has light to dark brown hair, which curls up around the ears. His hair is a decent length, which at times can fall over his eyes. He has green eyes, for which when light reflects off them, almost look like their glowing. He is of average to muscular build.

    He sports a white t-shirt with two black straps that go over his shoulder. He wears black gloves on both hands. Also sports black pants with black shoes.

    Personal Effects:
    Around his neck he wears a few golden necklaces, along with a silver cross. This was a gift given to him by Tesa on his 25th birthday. On his left shoulder he has a tattoo, sported by all 5 Legion generals. On it, it has the symbol V printed (meaning the 5th legion). On his left arm, he also has another tattoo, showing his allegiance to the Vaiyon household.

    Weapons: Blue doesn’t officially use weapons. He can sometimes be seen sporting a rapter (sword) which was given to him by his foster father. It’s more for show then using though. Blue prefers hand to hand combat, using his whole body as a weapon (from hands to feet).

    Personality: Blue was rather friendly and outgoing when he was in the military. Now that he is on the run, he is more reluctant to talk to people, afraid to give himself away. He has great leadership skills and a strong charisma making most people like him. He is rather calm and tends to think before acting. He has a very devoted attitude to those that he trusts.

    Skills/Abilities:

    Index: Blue has the power to go beyond human physical boundaries. Using his power he calls Index, he has the ability to accelerate all aspects of himself (from speed, to strength, to precision, etc) depending on the percentage he states. He does not go beyond 50% though. The drawback on using this power is that it severely affects his body. From 30% onward, he can start to feel the effects during but mostly after he turns off Index. Once he goes past 50% he has a high risk of losing organs due to internal bleeding. Speeding up the body, causes ALL aspects to be sped up, including internal functions. When he leaves the mode, the body tries to compensate for being accelerated, usually hurting itself in the process.

    Last Hope: As a last resort, Blue focuses his remaining energy into his right hand, which starts to give off a blueish, smokey glow, which starts to surround his body, almost causing illustration like wings to appear on his back. Combining this with Index, he usually has a minute at most before he is completely out of power, usually causing him to be unable to even move. He has to be able to just touch the person, causing serious internal damage to them, from organs being destroyed to muscles being completely torn apart. He can’t control what it destroys, so there is a chance that even if he touches his opponent, they will still be able to fight, depending on what organs, or muscles were destroyed.

    Perks:

    Elven Background:
    Due to his foster father teaching him as a child, he grew up learning many Elvish ways. One being that he can speak Ppirit Elvish pretty fluently, causing a lot of people to wonder if he is actually half elvish (for speaking Elvish for just humans is considered extremely difficult.) The second being that he was trained to fight hand-hand combat in Elvish style (called Telach). Pasted down by his foster father, he learned to forget the ways of power and strength, focusing on confusing the enemy with speed and accuracy, wearing them out for over long periods of time. It isn’t meant for a quick victory.

    Human Background: His father thought it would be best to not only have 1 way to fight, so he got Thrunda, an ex-Legion 3 general, to teach him the ways of Berserker. It sacrifices speed and accuracy for power and strength, making for a fight that needs to end quickly. Blue can freely move between the two styles.

    Leadership: One of the main reasons he was able to become the Legion 5 general at such a young age, was due to the way he talked and inspired his men. If he called for his small group of 30 or so men to go against a large force of 100+, his men trusted him with their lives, never disobeying his commands. When he first became a general, he promised that he would put his own life at risk before any of their own. He treated them like family, hence their total respect for him. Not only in the military does his leadership/charisma show though, for the way he talks and acts, almost inspires others to be around him, as if he was around, everything will go right, even if that wasn’t the case.

    History: (Remember to look at the group blog post of Blue Vaiyon. To try to keep this as short as possible, many introductions on who people are, are posted there.)

    Blue was born in a village, Kaol, around 30 miles outside of Krystania. Other than that, there is no information about him before the age of 5.

    Age 5: Rumors of a treacherous attack against the throne was said to have come from Blue's village. Rumors were that thousands of soldiers of unknown origin were gathering there, planning to attack Krystania first, crippling the main defense to the capital. Having to act upon orders from the throne, a young Duke Fray Maeilista, along with his close friends Dias Vaiyon and Francesco Rau, lead 2 legions of men on a surprise attack on the village. The three other legions were put on standby, their generals ready to act on orders for backup. Listening to Rau, Fray decided to attack the village from a far, using a combination of magic and siege weapons. After the bombardment ended, Fray, at the dismay of Rau, wanted to take a look at the village, feeling that something was wrong. There was no resistance, and for a place that supposedly harbored thousands of men, he didn’t see any men at arms. As he traveled down the dirt hill on horseback, he was shocked in horror. This wasn’t a resistance camp. All he could find were farmers, woman and children laying on the ground, burned to crisps or severed with multiple projectiles. Fray couldn’t believe the horror he committed. He got off his horse and fell to his knees. What horrible deed did I just commit, he thought to himself. Then at the far distance, he heard a child crying. Him, Rau and Dias moved through the wreckage and found a toddler, about the age of 5, crying. Reaching down, Fray was pushed back from some sort of energy field protecting the child. Dias noticed what it was. He held out his hand murmured a few symbols in Elvish releasing the barrier. It was a Life Seal. At the expense of the casters life, one can put on a impenetrable seal around someone or something for almost a few hours, depending on the life force of the individual. Dias was able to break it for the seal was at its last strength. The only one alive from the carnage was a baby boy. Fray picked up the boy and smiled. Atleast someone was still alive. He thought of keeping the boy, but he remembered the trouble that his daughter, who was around a year younger, was causing. Dias offered to raise the boy with his wife Krystal.

    Age 12-18: It was around 7 years later that Blue joined the military, along with his friends Enys Biroyl, the son of Sir Lyiam Biroyl, a nobleman, and Tesa Maeilista, the daughter of the current Duke of Krystania. Despite her father’s orders, she wanted to go through the same training and work that her friends would be going through. They had been together for a few years, always getting into trouble and doing things that the daughter of the duke shouldn’t be doing. In school the three of them excelled, forming a potent 3 person team. During their 7th year, they went against 8th yearers (the school goes for 8 years), in an upper-class tournament in the Finals, beating them for the 2nd time an underclassman team ever beat a 8th year team.

    There were ton of rumors surrounding the three of them though. There had been word that Blue and Enys had a fight over Tesa, even though the both of them declined that they did. This is where the rift started to from between the three of them. Tesa would then be forced to leave the school after the tournament, her father demanding that she take responsibility as the next heir to the throne. Blue and Enys would talk to each other, but everyone could see the difference that Tesa made as the negotiator of the group.

    Age 19-23: At the age 19, Blue completed the military academy with flying numbers. He was considered to be one of the top in his class, along with Enys. Due to random lottery, Blue was selected to be under the 5th Legion general Hynes Tenal and Enys under the 1st Legion general Enos Hatmor. Tenal wasn’t the best general. Poor decisions and demands didn’t make him loved by his men; on the contrary they despised him. Desertions and ignoring commands was common within the 5th Legion. Blue spent 5 years, trying to climb up the ladder, trying to please his father and mother. Blue was fairly liked among the men, for his intelligence and ways he expressed his ideas and thoughts were welcomed. He became fairly close to two men in particular, Arsul and Soril. Arsul was around the same age as Blue, Soril a year older. They tried to do assignments as a team, keeping their heads low as to not grab the attention of Tenal. A few weeks before Blue’s 23rd birthday is where everything changed.

    Age 23-25: Still 22, Blue, Arsul and Soril, along with around 400 other men, were ordered to accompany Tenal to an encampment of bandits that supposedly was station a few miles from Krystania. They were said to be selling illegal weapons to different cultures. Walking by foot, it took them around 2 hours to arrive at the destination. When they got there, Blue noticed that the camp was empty. He ran to the front of the line and told Tenal that something wasn’t right but Tenal ignored him. He ordered for the force to advance into the camp, which was situated at the base of a mountain, surrounded by hills. As they marched in, Blue could feel it was a trap…and he was right. As soon as the last man entered the village, bandits popped up on all sides of the hills, bows in hand. Tenal yelled for action to be taken, telling his men to grab their bows and fire back. Confused the army, started to be pelted by arrows from all sides. Blue grabbed his shield and got his friends, ordering them to do the same. They made a triangle, defending themselves from the arrows. Tenal could be heard screaming in the background commanding that they protect him. Then 3 arrows went through Tenal, piercing him. He fell face first into the ground. Their leader, their general just died. The army's moral plummeted, men started to desert their spots, trying to make a run for the exit getting pelted with arrows before they could escape. Arsul noticed a cave in the distance and motion to the other two to try to slowly but surely get there for safety. Blue knew what this meant. They would sacrifice the others, hoping that the enemy didn’t see them enter the cave. Blue had a hidden desire to do it… but he couldn’t. He rolled from underneath the cover, using Index and the Telach style to start to dodge as many arrows as he could. He could feel some braze him, but the adrenaline was pumping.

    He yelled at the top of his lungs. “FALL BACK INTO PLACE. ALPHA POSITION. DO WHAT YOU LEARNED AS A FIGHTER OF KRYSTANIA!” This seemed to take effect, as everyone looked at him, and obeyed his orders. They grabbed their shields, making a large circle. The men that were left (around 150) fell back into the cave, making a wall of shields as a defense, arrows shooting back as a last stand. It must have been hours, and even though Blue felt like giving up, he kept his troops moral as high as he could. Whatever he ordered they followed to the exact T. By the luck of the gods, a scout from the 3rd Legion saw the attack on the 5th Legion, and told their general. The general, Dar Ganon, launched a full scale attack on the bandits, crumpling them. In the end, only around 100 survived, but they praised Blue for the way he acted.

    Blue was ordered to appear infront of the Fray, the men from legion 5 who survived cheered his name outside of the castle. Fray smiled at Blue. He thought the boy was special the moment he found him in the rubble. The 5th Legion needing a general, he decided to appoint 23 year old Blue Vaiyon as the general. When announced, word spread among the Legions, and the people of Krystania about the youngest general to be named. Blue took to it well, having many successes among his missions, his men completely supporting any call or order that was given. Even those who didn’t fight under Blue at the Battle of Tybia, the ambush, started to respect him. He was given the name Crimson among his men and the people of Krystania. It was said that any enemy that faced him, he would spill their blood for the crown. It was said he never got injured, and continued to be victorious in battle.

    Everything started to go downhill though, a year after his inauguration. Duke Fray Maeilista fell ill and died. His wife, was able to control the throne as well before she as well fell ill, making Francesco Rau temporary leader of Krystania. By law, Tesa wasn’t able to control the throne until her 25th birthday which was a few months away. Rau was given control. It was only a matter of time before he started to change anything.


    Journal Entry 203
    My Home's Betrayal


    (Age 25) We walked back from the courtyard to appear infront of Duke Rau, to report that our mission was a success. We were ordered to take a small group of men on a few days journey and travel to the outlands where it was said that orcs were resting there. Luckily, we didn’t encounter any, but the trip was overall a waste. Myself, Arsul, and Soril, both who are now lieutenants, along with a 5 other of my men, entered the grand hall, where the Duke sat at the top of throne. Tesa, who is usually present, wasn’t anywhere to be found. I didn’t worry though, for she must have been with her mother. As we walked up the middle of the large hall, I noticed that all 4 of the other generals were present, standing up high, almost looking down on me. The face of Dar did concern me, as it looked saddened by something.

    As we got from a few feet of him we knelt infront of the Duke.
    “We went to the outlands where there was word of orcs. There were none though to report of”. I kept my head down out of respect. Rau then started to laugh, evil like. “So that’s what you say you were this whole time?” I looked up, a confused expression surfaced. “Umm.. like you ordered sir”. He made a harrumph noise waving his hand. “I did no such thing, why lie boy?” I looked at Arsul and Soril. Maybe I made a mistake? “Why lie when you should tell us the truth. Where is Lady Tesa?” he yelled almost sounding like he cared.

    “I don’t know sir, why would I know when I was away.” I said getting up to my feet. I felt anger. Tesa was missing and I was just told now? “I will go, find her, and bring her back!” I started to move towards the grand hall door, my men following me. Then guards started to come out from behind the pillars and a few through the grand hall doorway.

    Rau got up and pointed at me. “Blue Vaiyon, you are under arrest for the kidnapping of Tesa Maeilista, and suspected treason against the throne!” It was almost as if an arrow pierced my heart. Treason? Kidnapping? I did no such thing. I tried to plead my case, but he ordered the guards to capture me. I couldn’t be captured here. I could tell by looking at Rau that he was lieing. A small smirk showed underneath his beard. He framed me. Luckily, my men could tell the same. They formed a protective circle around me and started to shove me towards hallway. Two of them broke off and started to fight with the guards.

    “We will get you out of here Blue” yelled Arsul. They shoved past the guards and we all ran down the hallway. I took a quick look back and noticed the two who broke off get stabbed by the enemies’ blade. Seeing my men die before me always hurt. We broke off into the garden where we sprinted towards one of the 5th Legion barracks. Those standing on guard were startled before Soril yelled “It has finally happened. Project Sandstorm has began” The eyes of the guards from the 5th Legion eyes widened, and they quickly let us in. “We knew this was going to happen sooner or later” Soril yelled as he threw some bags at me. I quickly threw some items into them. “Rau always had it out for you. When he first sat on the thrown, we knew he would find ways to keep it. We have a horse waiting. You must hurry before we are put into lockdown. Find the resistance. They will help. We will try to meet you there. We will fight with you till the end general”. The men present all nodded raising their weapons up into the air. 'Now go" he yelled.

    I wanted to thank them as I hoped on the horse, but the words escaped me. All I could do now is leave Krystania, find Tesa, and have my innocence proven.
    Last edited by *sky; 02-28-2011 at 10:19 PM.

  4. #4
    Lives in City of Zeroes Reputation: 18
    farag0n's Avatar
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    (( Decided I'd do my CS with the same "style" as the OP . PREPARE THYSELF! ))

    Name
    Renshaw ”KWPC” De Morgan
    Age
    36
    Gender
    Male
    Race
    Human
    Class
    Pirate

    Appearance

    Renshaw has a long, flowing black hair and dark brown eyes. He wears an eyepatch over his right eye, it is unknown whether he keeps the eyepatch for show or for real. Most of the time he also wears a dark captain's hat and a screaming red scarf(more explained in history) around his neck. He also has a visible goatee. Renshaw is known of his bright red coat and katana. Under his coat he wears a loose white shirt which gets ruffly from the sleeves. He wears a pair of dark brown gloves and a black belt. His coat reaches all the way to his feet but does not touch the ground. He favors black pants and big dark brown boots shaped the same way his gloves are.

    Personal effects

    Renshaw's trusty telescope never leaves his side. It is wooden but has metal plates in it so that it can actually work. It's a keepsake from his late father who was swallowed into the depths of the sea. Most likely the cause of his father's death was unnatural, brought by some manner of beast which Renshaw intends to hunt down.

    Weapons
    Polly, a silver katana. The katana is Renshaw's trademark and it's named after his late pet parrot, Polly. If looked closely, you can see the name ”Polly” carved into the blade. The only other weapons he has are his two babies: Punchey and Nosey (left and right fist.)

    Personality
    Renshaw is quite arrogant and moody, much to his crew members dismay. He can also get rather quirky at times.. usually when he's alone. Even though he is a b*stard of a pirate, he values honor and courage. If someone is brave enough to step up to him, he will acknowledge them. Unfortunately, those who lack courage are often ignored by him. Lastly.. even though he is a pirate, he isn't heartless.

    Skills/Abilities:

    Explosive Aftershave

    Renshaw's favorite of the two skills he has is the Explosive Aftershave. It uses his knowledge of the fire element and his Polly, the katana. He lashes out shockwaves with his katana which hit the target, perhaps scarring it slightly (or sending it into air) and then create an explosion out of the mark the shockwave left. The explosion can range from small to a rather large one but naturally the cost is greater the more powerful the blast. It's an especially effective skill against multiple enemies but lacks the speed in one-on-one combat.

    Blur of the Moment
    Blur of the Moment works as a great way to increase the damage caused by Renshaw's attacks. He can multiply himself 4 times at max, creating 4 watery clones which act like him. Unfortunately he has no control over these clones so it is not always a wise move to use them (a bad hair day for example). These clones can use all the skills Renshaw can, however they appear as a sort of blurry version of Renshaw to others. It also means that they can't withstand more than two hits before they vanish. Note: Some of the crew members have seen Renshaw chatting and drinking rum with his clones.


    Perks

    Swift Swordsman

    Due to years of using his weapon of choice, katana, Renshaw has grown to handle it well. He can handle the most difficult of hand maneuvers required for the perfect use of a katana. Of course no
    one is perfect though. By Renshaw's own words: ”I'm perfect . . . Don' try ta change me words landlobber!!”

    Man of the Seas
    After sailing for nearly 23 years, Renshaw has learned the ways of the sea. He rarely loses sense of direction out in the sea and can easily navigate through the harshest of storms. However he is prone to get lost in the smallest of woods. His terrible sense of direction on land is one of the primary reasons he prefers sailing (and since it's so darn fun).

    Chords of Steel

    Renshaw has a booming voice which can send chills down even the spine of a veteran soldier, that is if he gets down and dirty. He uses his voice to strengthen his allies in combat. There isn't much logic in this perk to be honest though. Nevertheless his voice for some reason encourages his allies to fight better. Call it a war cry if you wish.

    History

    Renshaw was born into a lineage of pirates. Even his great great grandfather was a pirate so piracy was pretty much a part of the De Morgan genes. Renshaw's father, Garick De Morgan, was a great pirate who sailed through all the waters of the world gathering more wealth than you could imagine. Naturally Renshaw idolized him since Garick had it all: the looks, the charisma and simple bad*ss aura about him. Renshaw wanted nothing more than to be like his father one day.

    Renshaw lived his childhood in the eastern part of Heoden, in a rather big city called Faustin. He lived there with his mother, Anne, and baby sister, Julia. Anne was a tough lady who most men found way too intimidating to even look at. She was Garick's one true love, it was a classic love on first sight. Sadly that love was one-sided at first, Garick had to work hard in order to tame Anne so that she could raise their children (even then Renshaw sure got his share of slaps on the ear).
    Eventually Renshaw was born into the world and after 5 years from his birth, Julia was born. Renshaw had inherited his mother's wild nature and his father's charisma. He saw as his duty to protect his little sister.

    Julia was the ”white sheep” from all the black sheeps of the family. She was kind and caring, one that couldn't hurt a single fly. That fact alone made Renshaw protective of her. Once Renshaw reached the age of 13, Garick came back from his journeys. It was time for Renshaw to join his father in his crew. During those years, Renshaw got himself a curse already.

    They had found a secluded island and wanted to see if there was any treasure. Turned out that the only thing they found was a red scarf which Renshaw took with him. Along the way back home the scarf started shrieking like the damned, it looked like the scarf had a real mystery behind it. Renshaw was quick to tear it into pieces but.. the scarf grew back to it's normal size quickly. Since then the scarf has always been there, screaming whenever it liked. Renshaw did all he could to get rid of the scarf but still it persisted, that's why he eventually just quit and let it be.

    They arrived just in time to see a horde of orcs attacking the city. Garick and Renshaw hurried to see if Anne and Julia were alright.
    Just as they kicked the door open, they saw a violent scene. Anne was standing in the middle of five orcs, all who had been butchered with a kitchen knife. She was covered in blood and kept looking at Renshaw and Garick with a murderous glare. The glare meant only one thing:
    ”Where the HELL have you been?!”

    Then a sudden scream alerted all three of them, the scream of a young girl. Renshaw rushed into the upstairs before Anne and Garick could even react. When Renshaw arrived, the deed had already been done.. he was too late to save Julia. An orc was standing right in front of Julia with a smirk on it's ugly face, the orc's axe was dripping with blood. Consumed by rage Renshaw jumped at the orc and ripped it's eyes out. The orc roared in pain but before it was able to do anything else, Renshaw grabbed its throat and tore it open with his bare hands. The orc gasped for air a few times before dying. This was Renshaw's first kill.. but it held no satisfaction to him. He knelt down next to his sister's lifeless body and kept looking at her, not once wavering his sight from her.

    . . .

    Years later, when Renshaw had grown into a young adult and taken over his father's ship, he arrived into a simple fishing town. This was supposed to be another looting round for him but something unexpected happened. Orcs had attacked the town which already ignited fire inside Renshaw's mind. A simple father who had sacrificed himself in order to save his family was lying on the ground, barely breathing. When Renshaw went past him, the father grabbed him from the leg and made a request, a dying man's last wish.

    The only thing the father wanted was that Renshaw would protect his daughter, no matter what. With no hesitation Renshaw took a firm grip from the father's hand and promised that his wish would be granted. He saw how far the father was willing to go to save his family and this was something Renshaw couldn't possibly ignore. The father smiled before he passed away. The orcs were doomed from that point, Renshaw and his crew slaughtered them mercilessly.

    The daughter Renshaw had saved went by the name Kaori. She was far too young to be taken on a pirate ship so instead, Renshaw took her into another town. Kaori reminded Renshaw of his sister so inevitably he felt guilt as he left. To this day he still wonders where she is now, perhaps even wishing that they could meet again.
    Calm down people, it's just me.

  5. #5
    Norrin Radd's Nerd Rage Reputation: 29
    lokuri's Avatar
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    Talking I FINALLY have three Perks! :D

    ((OOC: EDIT! I added another Personal Effect, changed Tuning Words to Garner's Colloquy, and added two more Perks. ))

    ******Character Sheet******


    Name: Prince Hiroveus Tervis Regalis Vicicaelum; shortened to Hiro Vici.

    Age: 21

    Race: Aviseom, one of the forgotten, less pure elven races. However, that does not hinder their importance.

    Class: Elementalist

    Appearance:
    Obsidian locks that seem to omit all light sweep across long ears which jet from Hiro's head horizonatally, making them quite noticeable. His noble stature resembles a statue carved out of sun-baked clay. Flexible muscles lining his body reveals much training for an elf, but a glance at Hiro's face would suggest he'd never harm anyone unless they harmed another. The sharp features of his inverse triangular face adds intensity to his stern, yet soft lips and downcast eyes; the latter is quite peculiar. Shaped like diamonds, the depth of their attraction would seem hypnotic, but his irises are the key to his unique persona. While the left emanates with the gleam of silver, the right iris is as coarse as dirt. Together, along with the darkness of his long hair swaying at his waist, they add the characteristics of a charming, yet mysterious individual.

    There are distinct pieces that are always worked into his attire. Perhaps the most obvious is the streaming fabric of ivory concealing his eyes from view, indicating that he is blind. However, there is another meaning to his blindfold, one that will be discussed later. After noticing the contrast of the blindfold with his hair, most would discover his hair tied in a peculiar fashion. Allowing his locks to flair outwards in a pixie-like fashion, a silver clamp attaches itself about three inches before his hair ends, leaving a tuft underneath. It often confuses people of his gender from behind, for two reasons: his face cannot be seen unless in profile or more, and his thick cape omits even a hint of his frame. The cape itself is of a rich cerulean, darkened like the sky upon nightfall, which is effective for camouflage. The last feature constantly seen on him to the naked eye are his brown boots, clad with metal only enough to keep it from wearing out during travel. For the most part, he hardly wears armor, save for the occassional breastplate for protection.


    Personal Effect:
    His eyes are of a rare shade, signifying a strong connection to the god of legend which founded Avis. This God was none other than Tervis, one who aligned Himself with Wind and Earth in absolute balance. It has been passed down from the origins of Avis that if a child is born with one silver eye and one brown eye, their power would be closest to Tervis. The fact that Hiro was born with royal blood made it almost destined for him to become the next king of Avis. However, as it shall be told in his history, such a blessing became his family's undoing. Now, it's a constant reminder of what he has lost, and how his world has literally become shrouded in darkness.

    Aviseoms are known as elves born from darkness, that darkness reflected in their black locks. However, Hiro's hair holds a peculiar essense about it, and that can be seen when it meets sunlight. Typically, no matter how jet-black the hair, the glossy hair of Aviseoms has yet to fail at shimmering once the sun's rays touch the individual strands. However, that doesn't apply to Hiro's hair. Be it sunlight, moonlight, or any source of light held near or far, not a single strand erupting from Hiro's head glistens even faintly. Many would discern such a rare hue as a curse, but Hiro deems it a charm. If not an ounce of light can drape upon his hair, neither can any darkness take away its radiance. Thus, the charm allows for his inner self to not be tarnished by that which tries to affect his outer self. Also, all that he can see, hear, feel, and touch that dare to taint his soul is negated by his pitch black hair -- at least, according to Hiro. Granted, the charm was assurance more as a child than as an adult, but Hiro still uses it to overcome his hardships without breaking apart.

    Weapon:
    Hiro only keeps one weapon with him at all times, and that's his Arsaen Scope. There are three stages to this weapon: dorment, active, and range. The first stage is in the form of a lightweight, pitch black stick strapped to his back. While an odd sight, without knowledge of its other forms, it appears cheap and worthless to steal. However, looks can be deceiving. When activated into the second stage, a hilt softened only to prevent injury to the hand appears. Attached to that hilt is a blade that omits all light, slender and thin to the eye, yet it won't shatter easily. It's name is Arsaen Sword, so hardened and reinforced that it becomes the core of the final stage: Arsaen spear. The Arsean Spear stretches in length comparable to Hiro's height, which is exactly six feet. Then, a shattering effect reveals channels where a silverish brown magic courses through it till it reaches the top. The spearhead also transforms, becoming jagged and metallic. It reveals the synchronization of magic and industrialization common in Avis, one of the many themes of balance that the Aviseoms specialize in.


    Personality:
    It is difficult to determine Hiro's attitude to those around him upon first encounter. He's quite cautious with his words and it may seem as though he tests new acquaintances by remaining neutral. To be honest, Hiro thinks of it as a game, at which all the pieces move about while he stands still. This might be a trait from his past self, which he still hasn't shaken. Once he can assess the situation, Hiro finally takes a few steps, the direction depending upon who he is dealing with. If they have mutual goals with his own, Hiro begins to speak without restraining himself. On the other hand, if they become a threat, he either goes on the offense or retreats, depending on the level of danger.

    Those who are familiar to Hiro become treasures which he does his best to protect. Of course, he isn't a fool who would sacrifice himself for his loved ones; he would only do so if no other solution existed. The heartache from living when those around you are no longer existing is powerful, filled with as much suffering as a death full of regret. And who wouldn't regret sacrificing their life when those left behind weep miserably at the lost? Therefore, he stands his ground and exhorts as much of his physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional strength for both his and his companions' survival. To increase their importance, Hiro also does his best to give them as much trust as they give him. He dares not allow the repitition of withholding his honest feelings, only for death to snatch away those who do not know how much they are loved.

    Skills/Abilities:
    Semis
    Being linked to the mental strength of the caster, Semis requires the mind to envision the location and the length that a "path" should expand upon the air. Wind provides the base for the spell to be cast upon, as if a structure is being built in mid-air. Earth, on the other hand, is the structure that forms the "path" from one destination to another. By successfully combining these attributes, Hiro can create a silverish brown "pathway" that even has magnetic aspects once stepped upon, allowing someone to defy gravity.

    There are two downfalls to casting this spell. The first is that because it is visible to everyone, anyone could utilize the "path" while it is still in existance, includes enemies. This can be quite problematic, since Semis is an all or nothing spell: a "path" materializes after it's carefully completed in the mind, and every part of it must be erased as a whole. Therefore, another part cannot be added if the "path" is overtaken by enemies, and parts cannot be destroyed when it's overcome. As for the second downfall, overuse of this skill could result in mental exhaustion, leading to fainting, trance-like states, and when it reaches the later stages, amnesia (No, you can't die from using Semis.).

    Ingravus
    Being linked to the physical strength of the caster, Ingravus focuses the weight and overall stature of the caster against that of the enemy(ies) in an offensive assault. This time, earth becomes the basis which links the caster with the target(s), acting the part of a scale. Then, a wind current is summoned forth, applying a force that travels only in one direction, which spirals forward. Depending on the weight differences, the attack could double, triple, or quadrouple against someone lighter than Hiro (though only a mere child would allow Hiro to use it to its fullest, and he wouldn't dare harm innocent children); or become halve, one third, or a quarter in strength against those who are stronger than Hiro. At it's maximum power, the victim(s) would be sent tumbling backwards, but sheer friction or the interference of obsticles along the way hinders its force. If the power of wind in this spell is still confusing, picture it coming from a large fan.

    The first downfall of this attack is quite obvious: against numerous, heavily armored warriors, Ingravus would be but a fresh breeze, only serving to tossle their hair about. When thinking in terms of two objects of different weights colliding with each other, wouldn't the lighter object be sent flying? In this sense, Hiro would receive more damage than his opponents, making Ingravus quite a risky spell (especially if you're blind!). Another downfall is that while Hiro can sense his enemies thanks to the earth becoming similar to a scale, pinpointing particular opponents within a crowd of enemies is impossible. Ingravus takes a circular form that measures Hiro in height and thus cannot strike in a condensed form. Last but not least, Ingravus causes physical exhaustion, which, with too much strain, could result in death.


    Perks:
    Semblance of Rapport
    Hiro has always had an innate ability to sense those around him, but his sensitivity to certain people (or creatures) differs with the situation. When he is alone, a buoyant sensation rising through his toes to his head if someone approaches him, be it lingering behind a nearby wall or staying out of his peripheral vision. Most would define such an instinct as "eyes on the back of the head" or a "sixth sense." While it can be handy for a quiet room and a stranger or two, it isn't as strong as Hiro's second sensation. As mentioned before, Hiro cares deeply for those close to his heart. His will to protect those he loves can be measured by the range he can feel someone important to him nearby. An aquaintance would have to cross his path for him to sense them, whereas a loved one could be in the same vicinity, be it overly crowded or not, and Hiro can sense them. However, no matter how sensitive Hiro is to others, he can not sense illusions, ghosts, spirits, spells, etc.

    Garner's Colloquy
    There is always an advantage to a disadvantage to everything, which Hiro proves from his loss of sight. As it is commonly said, to lose is to gain, and what Hiro gained was a keen sense of hearing. From the babbling of a drunken wanderer to a lengthy speech on integrity, Hiro can recall countless information that he previously would have omitted due to distractions or lack of focus. The reason he is capable of retaining information so well isn't so much to do with the fact that his other senses have enhanced -- which they have -- but because he can't see. Indeed, it's quite difficult to ignore the sounds that hint to a person's characteristics, for their words are the keys which give Hiro some insight into who he is speaking to and what matters to them. For this very reason, he discovered a second meaning to what is said and thus became a better listener.

    Equanimity
    While the balance of harmony is essential for Aviseoms, royalty must be balanced both in mind and body. Intensive training is necessary to gain poise, concentration, flexibility, and much more. Meditation must be second nature, considering a noble cannot lose their calm even in the most dire of situations. Absolute relaxation and maintaining a neutral state of mind is not an easy task, and many fail at balancing the two essences of royalty. Therefore, a higher status is not only judged based a person's family record, but upon how balanced an individual is over the years. Such an exhausting dedication to calmness and stability could explain why Hiro made a game out of watching those around him he is not familiar with and acting according to the scenerios he encounters. As added bonuses, Hiro could probably walk a tight rope with ease and won't be intimidated by threats (so long as they don't include the harm of someone he loves). However, his many years of practicing balance hasn't ridden him of his lack of awareness of his surroundings.

    History:
    Far from the kingdom of Heoden exists a foreign island known as Avis. This region is split into three sections: Castle Diraemis atop the highest peak, Mt. Crenia, followed by several villages scattered on the mountainous terrain below, and the countryside. Due to some ancient curse, the countryside flourishes with agriculture, sunlight, and a gentle sea, whereas the the rest of the land is industrialized, the sun is shrouded by menacing clouds, and the sea is constantly in an uproar. For these reasons, the various villages isolated from the wealthy and noble elves high above them are plagued with diseases, fall sick from lack of nutrition, and often get severe injuries from the animals strengthened by the rough environment. Only the strong survive, and many more Aviseoms lose their lives from the exhausting journey to the countryside.

    During the struggle of the common people, Castle Diraemis was in an uproar. The decision for the next king of the Aviseom was underway, and whoever would take the throne might be the hope the common people needed. Out of the many candidates, two princes stood out the most: Prince Hiroveus and Prince Richelieu. Prince Hiroveus was a descendent from one of the original founders of Avis, proven by the color of his irises. Meanwhile, Prince Richelieu was born into a family of exiled Tree Elves who knew more about nature than any of the Aviseom. The former often spent time assisting sickly families and investigating the causes of the tainted air, but the latter was closer to balancing nature with industialization. This placed the safety of the common people against the advancement in innovation.

    One year later, at the age of 18, Prince Hiroveus finally mended the cursed ridden air. He gathered individuals who had strong inclinations to magic after tiresome travels from village to village, gaining respect and trust. Even though the sun remained obscure and there was still no escape to better land, the rate of mortalities declined. He became a hero to the common people and quite brave to the wealthy. Just as the next heir to the throne was being finalized, his sister, Princess Cerelis, fell ill. It didn't take him long to realize the reason for her frail and fatigued appearance was the result of his very presence. So long as he ventured to the land below and returned home, she would weaken more and more. His mind was ridden by so many concerns as well as tring his best to conceal such thoughts that he failed to notice she was the only one affected.

    Unable to protest, Prince Hiroveus bid farewell to his sister, who be taken to live in the countryside with his Aunt Seture. Being of royal blood, they were able to shorten the voyage tenfold thanks to a mystical beast called Tamem (plural: Tamemi). With eight legs galloping on the earth of the same hue, the Tamemi appeared to glide over rubble and splintered slopes. The sharp eyes upon it's raven head, decked in as much silver as its bony, horse-like form, can spot its destination from miles away. A mane and tail like that of a rainbow only adds to its peculiar, yet splendid form, which is exactly why they can only be found on Mt. Crenia. Thus, Princess Cerelis often was visited by her family and friends, all besides her brother, who couldn't come near her. Unable to settle his conflicting heart, Prince Hiroveus confided in Prince Richelieu, who he thought would understand his feelings. All he received was a mysterious, somewhat twisted smirk, before he was left standing in confusion.

    Three days passed since he last saw any sign of Prince Richelieu, which troubled Prince Hiroveus. The other princes, who openly greeted him with distain, hadn't uttered one rumor or satiric lie about Prince Richelieu's latest achievements. When words did spew from their mouths, he legs nearly failed him: the countryside was under attack. Grabbing his most trustworthy weapon, Arsaen Spear, he hastily mounted a Tamem, no longer able to subside his feelings. What he saw was devestating. A ghastly mist the likes he never saw devoured buildings and gnawed at the ground. People cried in agony, fleeing as best they could from their homes. Anarchy ensued, yet none of their lives were taken. With all his might, he warded off the mist, which shockingly abated rather easily. Too easily. The mist turned out to be a distraction, leading Prince Hiroveus from the main devastation: his aunt's home.

    By the time he reached his destination, it was the sight of carnage. Several maids were gutted from their stomachs, their guts bulging amidst freshly spilled blood. A butler, who was attentive of every detail and person within the abode, had his eyes ripped from their sockets, scars forming ringlets down his cheeks. As if he had been too much of a hassle, his right arm had been hacked to pieces and distinctive bite marks had punctured his legs. Perhaps the most cruel of deaths was that of Aunt Seture. Black spikes pinned her arms above her head so that there could be no escape. Her head had been sliced partially, left dangling with what little skin that was able to cling to the rest of the body. Left gapping at the torture she endured, her mouth was soaked in the very blood which leaked from the sides of her torn lips. Claw marks made her chest indistinguishable, and if Prince Hiroveus had dared to look closer, he would have barely glimpsed her pierced heart.

    No one in that house survived, save his sister. The last Prince Hiroveus saw of her was being held as a hostage in the main church. Her body was far healthier than he last saw her, yet her face was contorted. There was longing to embrace her brother, yet she took a few steps back. There was abhorrence in her eyes when she turned to Prince Richelieu, yet she remained by his side. Never had Prince Hiroveus seen someone contradict their true desires so much as he did when he gazed at his own reflection. A rage -- no, all the feelings that Princess Cerelis buried within her troubled heart awakened within Prince Hiroveus, yet he cannot recall the actual battle. The last he remembers from that day was his sister's voice shrieking, calling out his name with all her might, before she too became silent.

    He doesn't know how it happened himself, but a ship passed close to the countryside. By then, he discarded his title and addressed himself as Hiro Vici. The ship, astonished at the destruction before them, allowed Hiro to finally venture to new lands. Three years passed, at which Hiro wandered aimlessly, hunting for clues about his sister. He knew she was still alive, for she had a rare gift that allowed her to visit him in his dreams. While most of her messages were omitted upon waking, he used what he recalled to hopefully find her. Somehow or another, her guidance brought Hiro aboard Renshaw's ship.
    Last edited by lokuri; 07-24-2011 at 01:57 AM. Reason: Whoops, I put 18 instead of 21 for his age. Now he can drink! :D

    Nurarihyon no Mago!
    Quote:
    Inpa: "...I got your mask already, look! Isn't it pretty?”
    Balthazar: ”Urgh.. !! It's pink..”
    Inpa: ”Oh please, it's called being metrosexual!..."
    -- farag0n; Tales of Amn

  6. #6
    Marios's Mustache Wax Reputation: 10
    DogDemon67's Avatar
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    ((I feel like I'm adding on to the gigantic line of character sheets! D: Anyway.. Here it is!))

    Name: Tori Sylphonia

    Age: 21

    Gender: Female

    Race: Blood Elf

    Class: Assassin

    Appearance: Like all blood elves, Tori has blood red skin, with swirly white markings painted all over her. What makes Tori's markings stand out, though, is that she has two stripes on both of her cheeks, and on her arms are what are supposed to be trees, just mistically and mysteriously swirled, making the trees look different, almost like they have meaning to them.

    Tori wears a dark red robe that covers up all of her body though, so no one can see her markings. The robe has a hood that covers up all of her head, with her face in shadow. You can only see her yellow orange eyes glowing through the shadow, giving Tori a mysterious appearance. But, Tori only wears the hood during a battle, so her opponents won't see her sneaking up on them. At home, Tori is as joyful as anybody else, and her hood is down.

    The hood is the same dark red color as the robe, made by the same fabric, of course. But it is also lined with a golden cotton the Spirit Elves made Tori's mom for good luck. ((More on how Tori got a hold of it in history.)) The golden cotton does give Tori good luck, and it helps her take care of the rest of her family while her dad works really hard.

    Tori's hair is a dark color; people have argued wether it is black or a really dark brown. But either way, it's a super dark color, and it's straight. Compared to other Blood elves, her hair is short. It reaches to just below her shoulders, and she likes to keep it that way.

    Tori wears black boots on her feet, which are like our equivilent of hiking boots. They have black fur lining the inside, which she can take out during the spring and summer to feel the soft, cushiony cotton that lines under the fabric. The fur is mainly for winter and fall, so her feet don't get cold. The boots reach up to right below Tori's knee. The boots have gray laces that are tied very securely. On the bottom of both boots is a picture of a red bird. Some think the bird is red because they are Blood elves, other think the bird is even there because Tori's name means "bird". Both people are correct, since the bird is there because of Tori's name, and it's red because they are Blood elves. But really, it was just a coincidence that Tori's mom found the boots in a forest, abandonded.

    Weapons: Tori's main weapon is a dagger, which is named "Taiyou Tori", or Sun Bird. It is a black and gray dagger at the hilt, with a small ruby embedded at the bottom of the hilt as a centre piece. The blade is one sided, and very sharp at the tip. It is a silver color, but in the light, it looks to be orange, giving it the name. Tori also has another dagger, called "Yodaka," meaning Nighthawk. It is fully black at the hilt, with a bird carved on the sides. The blade is a darker silver, and appears to be black when in the light. Tori also has a few throwing knives, which are black with silver blades. She only uses them for whenever someone sees her during battle, which luckily hasn't happened yet.

    Personality: Tori is a cheerful blood elf, but is also very serious. When her mom died of a mysterious illness, which no one had the cure for, Tori realized that she had to be the head of the family, taking care of her little brothers and sister, and her dad.

    When Tori's mind is off of being serious, and having to take care of her family, she is ususally cheerful and hyper. Around her friends, Tori has a lot of energy, not the likes of when she is at home. Tori could cheer just about anybody up, as long as she doesn't think about her duties at home. Most people enjoy just being around Tori, as she is so joyful, it seems contagious.

    The only other time Tori doesn't make people happy is during a battle. During a battle, she is a meriless killer. As an assassin, she doesn't go and kill a bunch of her enemies at one time; she kills them off one by one. Sometimes, she will kill an enemy of hers, then throw them right in front of a charging enemy, making them trip, and then kill the fallen enemy. So, to sum it up, Tori has many ways of killing her enemies, while at home, she is cheerful, as if nothing had happened.

    Skills/Abilities:
    Time Sense
    During battle, if Tori feels like someone is about to attack her and she doesn't know where they are, she can use Time Sense. It basically slows everything down so it looks like they are standing still, but just really moving super slowly. Then, with a kind of third eye, Tori is able to see the battle field. It only lasts for about five seconds; just long enough so that Tori can see all her enemies.


    Perks:
    Distant Throw
    Even though Tori can't use a bow and arrows, she has a keen sense for throwing things. Like her knives, for example. If Tori was handed a bow and arrow and told to shoot the arrow through the bow, Tori wouldn't be able to. If she was handed an arrow and told to throw it, she would be able to throw it like a tree elf would shoot the arrow from the bow. But, that wouldn't really happen, since the downside of this skill is that Tori can only throw knives and daggers well, not arrows or spears or any of the sort.


    History:
    Tori has lived a normal life all her life. As a child, she grew up the blood elf way. When she turned thirteen, her mom came home with two gifts; one was a beautiful, dark red robe, with the hood lined a golden cotten. The robe was Tori's moms. The other gift was her mom's, too. The other gift is a sickness, called "Hatsunephobia". No one had a cure for the disease, and luckily, it didn't spread to other blood elves.
    Sadly, Tori's mom passed away when Tori was just about to turn 14. Her dad decided to give the robe to Tori, since he knew that's what her mom would have wanted. Actually, it is what she wanted, since her mom's last words were, "Give my robe to Tori...."
    After that, Tori's dad, Kaminari, worked all day long, every day, trying to earn enough money to be able to buy food for his family. Tori decided to be the head of the family, making dinner for everyone. First, she would make dinner for her little sister, Sakana, who is 13, and her twin little brothers, Ryoku and Gama, who are both 7. Then, Tori takes a small, plastic container, fills it to the top with the dinner she makes, and sets it by the fire in the fireplace. This way, it can stay warm.
    Tori has basically been living this way for the rest of her life...

    OOC-
    So, her life was normal, and her history is short.. D: Yeah.. Sorry it's so short! I didn't want to make Tori a depressed character, and I think anything more than making her mom die is too much.. Her mom dying is bad enough, sooo.. Yeah.. Sorry the history is short!
    Last edited by DogDemon67; 02-24-2011 at 08:29 PM. Reason: Blood Elves can't use magic.. I forgot!
    "Shawn, what the hell do poker chips smell like?"
    "Butterflies."
    _______________
    "Shawn, do you have your license?"
    "Do you mean my pilots license? Or my license to kill, which has been revoked. I would go into details, but then I would have to kill you, which I can't do because my license to kill has been revoked."
    "I was talking about your detective license..."

    ^^ Two awesome scenes from a T.V. show called Psych.
    _______________

  7. #7
    Still learning the ropes Reputation: 10
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    Name: Vonur Garkrak (meaning Craftsman of the Tunnel)

    Age: 35

    Gender: Male

    Race:
    Dwarf

    Class: Warrior

    Appearance:
    Vonur is short, even for a dwarf; he stands at just under 3 feet. But because of his height he has had to work harder than most. He trains daily, and now is one of the top contenders in the annual Dwarven Fury Tournament ((More about this in the History)). He is of heavy build, and has large muscles.

    His hair is long and black. Platted delicately, in the fashion of the original dwarves, unlike today where hair is normally straight platting, basic and easy to do. Vonur’s beard is also very long, and again platted in the same fashion as his hair. His moustache is platted thought his beard to make it look like his body is completely covered in hair; the only skin showing is that around his eyes and forehead. He has a tattoo on his bare forehead, of his family crest.

    His clothes change, as people don’t only wear one set of clothing. But he does always wear his hand crafted armour. He has chain mail covering his body, which he wears under a chest plate, with dwarf style tribal designs etched around the borders, gauntlets, boots, and shin guards, all of the same style as the chest plate. The metal he made his armour out of is a rare combination of dwarven steel, and a material called iron tree bark, which give the armour a green tint to it.

    Weapons:
    Vonur created 2 mechanical axes, which combine to make a war axe. They join by the use of 3 latches along the shaft, and a hollow handle that let them slip together into place easily. When the axes are separate he uses them together, one in each hand. He may not be that agile, but he has trained with dual axes ever since he created his combine war axe, so now he is a master of dual weaponry. When combined the axe is used like a normal war axe, with a dwarves strength behind it, it can cut a rock clean in two.

    Personality:
    Vonur has an extremely strong sense of friendship. Once you gain his trust he will defend you with his life, but if you betray him, prepare for pain. He doesn’t joke around…ever. He takes everything to heart, and says exactly what he means. He is kind at heart, but his heart is buried deep under his armour; he finds it difficult to open up to people. When it comes to fighting, Vonur is just like any other dwarf; he loves it. He never backs down, never retreats, dying in battle is the most honourable death possible for a dwarf. Honour is everything to him, after his father was found to be dishonouring his family he has worked and trained to regain the honour that his family lost.

    Skills/Abilities:

    Twin Release:- Vonur separates his war axe into a set of dual axes. He as trained vigorously with dual axes and now can perform multiple hits in seconds. He may not be agile, but when using his dual axes he can cut down his enemy with fast devastating blows. When Vonur goes all out he can make it look as if he attacks twice, but in fact has made contact six times.

    Siamese:- This is when Vonur combines his axes to make one great War Axe. His attacks become much slower, but when he hits they do a massive amount of damage to the target. If he charges his attack he can even make the earth shudder, making the target momentarily open to attacks.

    Perks:

    Master Craftsman:- With Vonur’s vast knowledge of metals, and forging, he has become a craftsman. He can create, and repair, high quality armour and weaponry, but he spe******es in custom weaponry. He crafted both his armour, and his war axe

    Switchaxe:- With extensive training Vonur can now switch between Siamese and Twin Release with ease, maximising his damage potential.

    Night Eye:- From living underground his whole live Vonur’s eyes have evolved. His eyes can compensate for changing light instantly, so walking into or out of a dark place no longer blinds him, like it would anyone other person. His eyes have got so used to the dark that he can see nearly as clearly at night as he can in the day.

    History:

    Vonur was born into loving family. His dad was a merchant, selling odds and ends, nothing of real value. But this provided money, and food for his family. He grew up helping his dad, but he wanted more from his life. He became a blacksmith’s apprentice, and learnt how to craft armour and weapons. He was a natural and soon surpassed his master. His dad seen his potential and started to sell the armours, and weapons that he made. His family became better off, instead of barely making it. They gained honour over the years, with more and more of the nobles requesting custom made equipment. Sells skyrocketed, and eventually they were turning away business.

    Vonur eventually decided to take on his own apprentice. His apprentice’s name was Sakiki. He trained him well; Sakiki learned quickly and soon started to help Vonur with his orders, instead of just making stock items. But Vonur didn’t just teach him how to be a smithy, he also taught him of honour, and about the ancient dwarves, about how they lived. At first Sakiki was a good colleague, working hard, and doing what he was asked. But Sakiki slowly got greedy, and impatient. He thought that Vonur was holding back some crafting techniques, trying to stop Sakiki from learning, so he left, and started his own business. Vonur was sad that Sakiki had never learnt about being righteous, but didn’t miss him.

    Vonur’s father was proud of his son, of how he was one of the best smithies in the district. He knew his son could do anything with a bit of metal and a hammer, so he wanted to get him the best quality materials. He left the Iron Citadel, to go to the surface and get new materials. He left without a word to his family, or to anyone. Vonur’s mother thought he had left her, and that he had abandoned his life in the Iron Citadel. She got depressed, and ill, eventually taking her own life, leaving Vonur alone.

    His father leaving was seen by others as a cowards attempt to flee his own life. It brought dishonour about the Garkrak family name. Leaving Vonur with no family, business, but worst of all; no honour.

    After a few year of selling his amazing equipment for extremely low prices, his father returned to the city. He brought with him a material not heard of in the Iron Citadel; Iron Tree Bark. He returned to find his wife dead, and his son living an honourless life. Vonur was shocked when he first saw his father again, angry, but happy. His father handed him the Iron Tree Bark. “I’m sorry son, I had no idea this would happen…I-I just wanted to see your true potential.” His father was sent to prison for returning to the citadel. Vonur couldn’t believe what his father had done. He risked his own life just to let Vonur use this rare material. He would not let his father down.

    The honourless Vonur vowed to regain his family’s honour, and to do so he started to train for The Dwarven Fury Tournament. He trained daily, and instead of making and selling armour, he made himself armour. The best armour he could. After a year of training he entered his first Tournament. He fought hard, his opponents dropping like dominos. He reached the semi finals. His opponent was Sakiki. He would not fight his old apprentice, so he through the fight. Sakiki spat at him, “Weakling” were the only words that came out of Sakiki’s mouth. After the defeat Vonur realised that Sakiki had no true honour, he realised that honour today was not the same as honour in the ancient days.

    He trained again for a year, and decided to use the Iron Tree Bark. The material was so delicate he had to get right first time. He spent many hours designing new armour, and a new unique weapon. Eventually he had the plans, so he started to make his equipment. The bark was a unique material, nothing like anything he had used before. He spent months trying to make the perfect armour from it, but it was impossible. He had wasted his father’s life. He couldn’t craft this new material. He continued to trained vigorously with his old equipment. He was determined to defeat Sakiki this year, and become the champion, to regain his family honour.

    While training one day he had a thought. Steel isn’t just steel. Its iron and carbon combined. He ran to his workshop to find any bark that he had remaining. He found some. His idea was to combine Dwarven Steel with this Iron Tree Bark, to make it more stable, and easier to manipulate. After Hours of work, through the night, he finally finished his Armour, and his new weapon, they were one of kind, and they were the best he had ever made. When combined the two materials fused to form a metal harder than steel, and lighter than aluminium. It was truly one of a kind. it also gave a shimmer of green about it, which made it look almost natural, not a dwarven made material.

    Again he joined the Tournament. It went the same as the first, Vonur flew through the rounds with ease, and even won his semi-final match. This year he had a chance to regain his honour. But when he walked onto the arena for the final fight, he faced his old apprentice again. “Well, here to let me win again?” said Sakiki across the arena. Vonur didn’t reply. “A silent demise, your father would be proud.” At that Vonur ran with great speed, with his new weapon unsheathed, separated into twin mode, straight towards Sakiki. Sakiki didn’t see it coming, and Vonur hit home, completely crippling Sakiki. He couldn’t move, both his legs were broken. Vonur switched to Siamese mode. Standing over Sakiki, looking straight into his soul. There was no emotion in Vonur. He was in a killing rage. Sakiki was shaking with fear, he was about to die. The audience went silent, they too were afraid of what was about to happen. Killing is forbidden in the tournament. Vonur swung his war axe down. It stabbed into the ground, inches from Sakiki’s face, “Who’s weak now? You dishonour the dwarves.” Vonur turned to face the audience and lifted his arm. There was silence for a moment, but then the crowd exploded with applause. Vonur had won the final in one blow. He had regained his family honour, by winning the Dwarven Fury Tournament, the biggest event in the dwarven calendar. Vonur was walking away from Sakiki, enjoying his new honour. Sakiki was enraged at his old master.

    Later that week Vonur had visited his father in prison. His father was so proud of Vonur. It was a great day for his family. On his way home from the prison Vonur was picked up by a few thugs. Sakiki’s thugs. “Leave, leave the city tonight, or we will destroy you.” Vonur was not afraid of these thugs, or Sakiki. He ignored them, and kept walking. He reached his home, thinking they were just empty threats. He was wrong.

    The next day Vonur’s father was found murdered in his cell. Vonur was blamed. He didn’t do it, but he knew who had… Sakiki. Vonur ran, not of forwardness, in a rage, greater than that of when he was in the arena. He entered Sakiki’s home. Found him, but did not kill him. He just threatened him, threatened him that if he ever came back to Iron Citadel, that he would kill Sakiki. Sakiki was afraid, he knew from the look in Vonur’s eyes that he was serious. He never told anyone of this encounter, not a soul new.

    Vonur left the citadel, vowed never to return. He was tired of the fake honour that everyone cared so much for, he was sick of how the dwarves had changed since the ancient time, long ago. He decided he would live on the surface, and live in the way of the ancients; with no regrets, but with honour, not discriminating against anyone, not even an elf, even if he found it hard. He was going to keep his honour.
    RPing, i'm not really sure neil...

    *week later*

    I am Karosath, the almighty destroyer of the royal family MWAHAHAHAHAHA

    *next day*

    NEIL: so gecko hows the RPing
    ME:who is this gecko??? Adress me only as Karosath, the almighty, u peasent

  8. #8
    Spyro’s Burning Cough Reputation: 15
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    Default sooo long!

    ((Well I just can't refrain myself from not posting my character. Probably tomorrow I'll find some tweaks, but I will repair it then. Meet the new Kaori.))

    Exile by blood but not by law. Her eyes show the truth.
    A voice no human has ever heard. But a lawless man's voice is sooth


    Name: Kaori Eto

    Age: 22

    Gender: Female

    Race: Half Human – Half Celos

    Class: Bard

    Appearance:

    Basics:
    Kaori stands at a height of 1,70 m, making her not very tall for both human and Celos. She weights around the 55 kilos, which can be explained due her slim build and not much food all the time.

    Head: There is (or will be) a picture of Kaori in my blog, but of course I’ll explain here too.

    The first thing that would catch your attention when you look to Kaori’s face would be her sea-green eyes. They attract attention for it is as if the sea is literally in her eyes. Since Kaori doesn’t like attention very much she mostly keeps her black locks in front of her eyes even though they are supposed to be kept out of her face by the blue tiara she wears. The tiara is a very important thing for Kaori as it is the only object that is left from the mother. It is Celos made, blue, covering her whole forehead and the start of her nose and it has small white dots coming from the top middle running down to the nose. Her face is fairly small and elegant as the forms from the Celos shimmered through it. To stop confusion, no Kaori does not have the pointy ears that the Celos have.

    Body:
    An agile build is something that can be said from Kaori’s body. The body looks quite small in comparison to her long legs. Her skin is from itself quite pale, but has turned brown due her traveling, yet the paleness returns every year in the winter, making her look more fragile then she is.

    Clothing:
    Kaori tent to wear dresses the most of the time, or skirts with a shirt on top of it. She loves lots of layers of clothes matched together. Since she is not that rich, she cannot afford much clothing and always ends up with second hand stuff. Still she is a skilled and creative person when it comes to sewing, making her end up with all kinds of clothes.

    Weapons:

    Father’s Dagger
    http://browse.deviantart.com/?q=dagg...et=48#/d2nqe3p
    A beautiful dagger that once belonged to her father. As long as Kaori’s underarm it starts with a red hilt and flows into a grey-silver blade, the tip slightly pointed upwards. Together with her tiara, those two things are the only objects that Kaori has left from her parents. The dagger is made from elvenmetal, bearing an unnatural strength against magic.

    Fluctus Tibia (Flute of Waves):
    Kaori’s main “weapon” if you could call it that. Shaped like a wooden flute which one should hold with the top part pressed against the mouth and that arms to the right. The wood is dark brown and is inlaid with silver. For abilities, see below.

    Personality:
    “His sweet little girl.” It was often Kaori’s father’s title for Kaori. Yet the sweet little girl has changed due the course of time and hardship. She isn’t that sweet anymore as she used to be as the life has hardened her from both outside as inside. She still is caring and enjoys little things like a beautiful sunrise above the sea, but yet she can be snappy and hard when needed. She never lets anger control herself, or let emotions get the upper hand above thinking.

    Skills/Abilities:

    Song of Illusion:
    Kaori’s carries the power of sound waves and is able to create illusions using her flute. These are visual illusions, but when focused on one person one might experience even touch that isn’t there. Kaori uses the sound waves that she produces with her flute to distort signals running in the cells of the brain to make someone experience things there are not. The Illusion can be extended to about three persons at the time, if taking in more people the illusion turns weaker and becomes easier to break. Breaking the illusion can be done by simply realizing it is an illusion. When one realizes the truth the patterns in the brains change and the illusion is broken. But, of course, realizing that it is an illusion is the hard part and Kaori is fairly skilled in making sure that her victim does not realize it.

    The song of illusion can also be used to disrupt other illusions that might be casted upon Kaori. This is simply done by creating an illusion for herself, something only she recognizes as an illusion, when she realizes the illusion it breaks together with the other.

    Ballade of Emotion:
    Same as the song before, but this time Kaori uses the sound waves to change someone’s emotion. It works the same way as method before, but can be used on a much greater scale. About ten people can be affected; influencing their emotion greatly, at the same time, when trying to do more, the emotion becomes less strong with every person Kaori adds. Changing her own mood is impossible. When ten people are listening and Kaori stops playing the emotions will fade away after about 30 minutes. Less people means more time before the emotion wears of, more means less time.

    Perks:
    Lathron (Listener):
    Kaori is a listener and thus able to hear the Voice of the Ocean, something no human, elf, dwarf or any other creature besides the Celos can hear. She therefore is able to understand the oceans pattern and predicts its movements, even make very small alterations. This could be very handy for a curtain pirate captain…

    Eidetic Memory:
    Kaori has an eidetic memory for words and songs, ballades or any other melody you can think of. She only needs to hear it once and it is settled inside her mind. She therefore has an almost endless repertoire of numbers to her disposal which comes in very handy when you are a bard.

    Nightingale:
    Kaori can sing very beautiful, another trait she received from her mother. She plays more than she sings, but also likes it very much to sing when she has no instrument at her disposal. Also singing is next to playing flute part of her way to make money. (Explained in the history)

    History:

    Note: The words in the poem are in the elvenlanguage created by Tolkien, Sindarin, and are written by Sappho.

    Thinnant Ithil, The moon is gone,

    Born in a small fishing village called Rimor Kaori started her life with the pleasure of having both father and mother by her side. Her mother was a Celos and a listener who had abandoned her people for her love, Kaori’s father. Falling in love with a human was quite unnatural for a Celos, but marrying him let inevitable to exile. But Kaori’s mother didn’t mind. She rather followed her hart than her people. Still Kaori couldn’t enjoy her company very long for in her second summer her mother was found death on the shores where she had gone for a short swim. The Celos had murdered her for breaking the law of exile to not return to the sea ever again. Yet no Celos can resist the sea when so close by, Kaori’s mother was no exception. Exile meant therefore inevitable death for a Celos.

    Kaori can’t remember her mother very well because of this, but the curse of the exile still rests within her for she is a half-blood, belonging to no race.

    ar giliath, and the stars,

    She lived on with her father and the day passed, turned into months and into years. Kaori was happy, her father was happy, the world seemed peaceful. Humans are a race that adapt quickly and in the little village nobody excluded Kaori because she was a half-blood. The outside world was far away for her only coming close on the days that travelers arrived in town or a foreign ship landed on the shores. Rimor was an unknown little village, the kind that everybody that didn’t live there forgot. And so Kaori didn’t know much about the world and its cruelness, but she would learn soon enough. Too soon.

    It started on a soft spring day when Kaori was eleven. She had been sitting by the epeshi (the sheep from Heoden, they look like deer with sheep fur and twisted horns of a ram, singular epesh) in the barn since it was their time to produce young and her father ordered her to watch them and make sure none died. She had been leaning against the wall when the screaming started, the screaming and the fire. It were Orcs and they didn’t come for tea. Everything is a blur for Kaori from here. She remembers running outside, searching for her father. She remembers how she encountered the Orcs and saw how they slaughtered one of her friends. She remembers screaming, but not if it was her that screamed or the others or both. She remembers how her father grabbed her and how they started to run, run to the sea. They didn’t get far. Her father pushed her inside a house, telling her to hide as he turned around and faced the Orcs.

    Luck came just moments later as a pirate ship set ashore, but for Kaori it came too late. Her father had died and although she was saved by an unknown man she died inside for the first time.

    enedh en-fuin, in the middle of the night,

    Renshaw dropped her in a small village close by. He maybe did it because he knew he couldn’t take her, but for Kaori it felt as if he was just abandoning her for nothing. Now she was in a village she didn’t know, with people she didn’t know and the only one that she knew sailed away. It was her first grudge against someone. The people in the town were reluctant to take her in. Her eyes were too strange, her ways were too different and she noticed for the first time that she was different from others. The world was hard.

    gwanna i lû, the hour is passing,

    Yet it brightened again when a group of travelers passed by the village when Kaori was fifteen. They were a group of bards and performers that traveled around the kingdom, making money with their singing and playing. They were all kind of races with all their own reasons to walk away from their people. To make a long story short, Kaori felt like she had finally found some people like her. People who were different in all kind of ways. And so she left the little village and went with the travelers who accepted her gladly after hearing her voice and playing skills.

    Kaori is still traveling with the group now, having not found a place to love. She is not one her own anymore and although it is hard work she is happy…

    im losta erui. but I sleep alone.


    A man said to the universe:
    "Sir I exist."
    "However," replied the universe,
    "this hasn't created in me
    a sense of obligation."

  9. #9
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    Default

    Name: Laec
    Race: Human
    Age: 25

    Appearance:, Laec has pitch black hair. This hair color contrasts immensely with his pale skin, making it seem like he seldom ventures out into sunlight. His eyes are of a deep blue color His body is thin, a result of constant strain and at times not enough food to make him full. On his right arm there are two mingling symbols extending from there to his shoulder. The underlying mark, sprawling in many different lines with wilted flowers opening at random is black, the mark on top of it got no shape. Just intermingling symbols and lines stretching here and there covering the flowers, this one is painted a deep red.
    Though despite his bodies state and the marks on his arm Laecs face does not have the look of one giving up, it’s the look of somebody determined to fulfill a goal. Even if that goal is mere survival.
    His attire at the moment consists of a formerly white now dirt gray shirt which covers his arms on top which he wears a light coat, mostly faded black and frayed from long use, several pieces of it bearing constant proof of sewing having been made to cover up parts too damaged. Because of this it makes a strange colored coat, a few parts of it being of random colors, white, brown, red, green, yellow, whenever he manages to get his hands on something he does his best to patch up the spot which is in most need of it.

    Class: Dark magician

    Personal belongings:
    An leather inbound book with no special symbols on it, just simple leather binding together the information it holds. It’s in this book which Laec draws all the different curses and their symbols which he finds and writes down all the knowledge about them that he has acquired. Also writing down any changes, however small, that happen to the curses etched on his arm.
    He also has an brush with him that he uses to form the symbols when making or undoing a curse when it’s necessarily.

    Weapons: Greg the kitchen knife.

    Behold its sharp edge and luster which would make any cook droll just by a single glance at it while filling them with a need of acquiring a knife with such perfect meat and vegetable slashing abilities. This is of course before they notice it being enchanted. By who and for what purpose is unknown but two unfortunately traits that Greg is known to have is one large mouth and being surprisingly resilient no matter how many times one tries to break him by continuously slamming him in the floor or hammering with whatever heavy objects nearby.
    Recently Greg has grown unsatisfied with being bound to the kitchen and have begun dreaming of glory and battle. Eventually landing into the hands of the least likely person to ever willingly lead him into either. And despite Greg’s sharp edge it have been noticed, more often than healthy, that having a loud mouthed knife seeking danger and taunting foes mixes badly with its length and form. This having led to many a cheerful chase.

    Personality: The first word that comes upon an onlookers mind when seeing Laec confronted by, well anything threatening is most often coward. Usually the second thing that comes to mind is oh god he’s fast! You got it people he’s a coward. Or as he would put it, sane enough to try not to get prematurely killed. Laec will do whatever he can to get out of trouble, be it by running, begging, cheating, flattering or bribing he will get out of whatever trouble he, or more often Greg, has gotten himself in. Often glad to make friends, friends mean one less person trying to kill though he’s rather pessimistic and sarcastic outlook on life can make this difficult for him. Though when threatened, or even at the hint of threatening happening in the near future he drops this, being as friendly and polite as possible

    Powers:
    Cursed gift: Because of the two curse marks on Laecs forearm, both of them loaded with magical energy constantly fighting for dominance Laec got a new ability up his sleeve. If he increase the magic in the curses themselves instead of trying to dampen them their power will go wild. The magic going unstable and at that moment their hold over him will lessen for a moment, allowing Laec to grab opportunity and take the essence of either or both of his curses, it all depends on his precision. Then he can transfer the curses to his hand or as a small ball of energy which he then can launch onto his opponent. Thereby dampening them to their normal state once again. This method of attack got four outcomes.

    The first outcome is that he uses the curse from his father which leeches on the curseds life, although it won’t kill the wearer immediately it will drain his energy and life and thus decrease his energy and stamina rapidly leaving the enemy exhausted in a matter of minutes.

    The second curse is the one he received from Greg which makes it impossible to wield any weapon besides Greg without having a searing pain engulf ones entire body which only increases the longer one refuses to let go of his/her weapon.

    The third curse is the result in which the two curses mix together, this is a method he prefers not to use as it takes a lot more energy to copy the essence of two curses and contain them than just one curse, leaving him quite exhausted when performing this variety of it. But then again the result is also more effective if one doesn’t mind a bit of blood and guts flying about. If this one gets applied properly the high instability and power struggle between the curses while at the same time being applied to a completely new and unknown host will cause them to mix together faster and faster until they explode, taking the host with them. Well, unless the host in question is fast enough to react and suppress them, something which isn’t the easiest thing in the world.

    And the fourth outcome, the one he hates the most of all and prefers not happening at all. He misses completely.

    Curse creation: The time he spent researching and experimenting with curses has led him to be able to create them himself. This is a skill that is totally useless in a battle though, as it takes some time to finish a proper curse. Therefore it’s mostly useful for guarding him when he rests as any curse activated would alert him. Of course this also means he can curse a weapon or a person if he wishes to. Though the more magic there is in the object/person the harder it becomes as the body wishes to reject the curse.

    Perks:

    Running: Years of running away from whatever danger he faces has given Laec a speed which once he has begun running makes few people able to catch up to him.

    Curse enthusiast: Since having fled from his former life Laec have researched different curses in hope of finding a way to get rid of the ones he bears. During this search of knowledge he has gained an impressive knowledge about different kinds of curses, their forms and how they are made. Allowing him to make and identify different curses, knowing their function and how to disarm them. And if not knowing exactly what curse it is at least make a pretty accurate guess of what type it might be.

    Precise hand: The time Laec has spent copying curse marks and experimenting with them in the hopes of finding a way to get rid of his own curses has led him being to copy patterns and symbols down to the last detail. After all a simple forgotten dot can prove quite a disaster when dealing with curses as they still need to be charged with magic before being effective, and if the shape is not acceptable the magic within easily leaks out, and pure magic going through one’s body is never a pleasant thing.


    History:

    On the day of Laec and his sisters birth his mother died in childbed, but this was something his father didn’t spent a lot of time grieving on when faced with the joy that was his daughter. She had even as just a child an enormous inner potent for magic and he was certain she would be a worthy successor to him. His son on the other hand. In comparison to his sister he was just a second rate, somebody to be tolerated to stay under the same roof, be fed but besides that didn’t matter. But despite his father’s cold attitude Laec wasn’t completely alone, whenever he felt down his sister was always there for comfort and cheering him up despite her studies.
    But there was one great flaw in his daughter, Verenca, and that was her health. Her lack of it became more and more apparent during the years and her father, his only passion in life to make sure she got the upbringing and life she deserved began to frantically research anyway to fix this flaw. Soon after his research, unknown to Laec he started kidnapping people, one by one completely unrelated, careful to not get caught. Often travelers who rested in their home which he then told his son had left, while in fact he had captured them. With them he began to research ways to incorporate their life energy into Verenca in order to restore her to the health of an ordinary person. After meeting with failure after failure, his experiment subjects dying and shriveling up into dried husks and the energy transfused being rejected by Verencas body finally led him to one conclusion. She needed an energy akin to her own which her body was familiar with and would not treat as an incursion. An energy related to her… Now where was that useless son of his?
    When hearing that he could help his sister Laec immediately agreed to it and then he and his sister both got a curse mark placed on their right forearm. One which would link their life forces together and transfer Laecs own, just enough of it, to his sister and cure her from her former problems.
    This was a small sacrifice in Laecs opinion though, he would of course feel fainter but her sister would survive and so would he.

    As if.

    This was just the first stage in his father’s plans, he had learned during his experiments that one couldn’t transfer all energy at once and for it to be fully incorporated it had to be done in small dozes through the curse mark. It being even more effective if it was placed on the victim willingly and they suspected nothing in order to not fight against it. Once enough time had passed he would perform the ritual and let the curse mark fully consume his son, effectively killing him.
    Luckily, at least from Laecs point of view, he learned of this by chance one day. Despite the precisions his father had took, or rather because of them he had placed a seal over one of his drawers which contained the book in which he written down all his research. Having begun to feel faint and despite what he said to either sister or father they just said it would pass with time, so when a strong seal suddenly appears one gets suspicious. There it all stood, black on white. Soon, very soon as the curse would have matured enough to perform the ritual that would take his life.
    Realizing first now truly what kind of man their father was he rushed to his sister, eager to share the news. And as soon he had explained it all he urged her to escape with him, their father was a monster which obviously could not be trusted. Merely looking at him, a hint of sorrow in her eyes she then did something he never believed she would do. She attacked him and held her down with her magic.
    Shocked beyond measure Laec did nothing to resist and would have been domed if not for her health failing at that precise moment, for despite him giving her part of his energy she was far from healthy. This fortunate turn of events interrupted her magic and Laec did not waste another minute and escaped from that his former home.

    Ever since then he cast away his family name and has done what he could to stop curse which slowly but surely, took more and more of his energy. Realizing his father and sister must be trying to complete it from afar he tried to seal it with his own magical energy which did slow it down but that was all, knowing that his relatives would eventually break through his defenses and if he did not find an solution soon he be nothing but a corpse he searched for a way to if not remove it at least neutralize it. He had already got it examined by someone skilled with curses and been told trying to remove it would likely prove fatal for him, having leached too deeply into him, so that option was a nono. At least with the knowledge that was available to him.

    Thus he began to frantically researching a way to remove it but found nothing, growing more and more desperate by the day as he felt the curse slowly but surely breaking through the hinder he had placed in front of it he was stumped on what to do.
    One day he found the solution, completely by chance and to this day he can’t’ be quite sure if he’s happy or not.

    Eventually he got his hands, quite by accident as he never do it volunteringly, curse or no curse, on Greg.
    Ever since he acquired Greg he's not sure if to call it a curse or a blessing For while Gregs mark that he received on his right arm, right on top of his fathers the day he got him blocks out his father’s it’s because of this new mark he cannot give up Greg or wield any other weapon, and so far he has escaped death only by the width of a hair because of Greg far too many times. And not in the way one first thinks, Greg isn’t the savior he’s most often the cause.
    Whatever the case Laec still can’t relax and say it’s over with. Because despite being safe for the time being the energy already lost he haven’t reclaimed yet and the strain of always keeping part of his magic active is taking its toll on him.
    Last edited by Befram; 03-10-2011 at 08:53 PM.

  10. #10
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    Default The calm before Alarei's storm.

    This is a story of what it means to be a hero. Like all stories of its kind, there is a predetermined result. The sun is eclipsed by the coming shadow of a great evil, and at the last moment, when all seems to have come to naught and the world to its knees, a hero, a beacon of hope, saves the world. Perhaps a princess is rescued, long separated brothers are reunited, a boy becomes a man in the face of adversity, and maybe, just maybe, love is found. But above all, in this story justice is served, and the future of the world preserved from near-certain doom, even if at some cost and sacrifice of the heroes.

    Dear reader, you should know up front that this is not that story, for this is not a story of what it means to be a hero.
    This is a story of what it means to be human in the face of inhumanity.


    -
    Chapter One:
    Downpour.
    ----------------------------------

    When the crystal eye opened the fourth gate, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, "Come and see!" I looked and there before me was a solemn dragon! Its rider was named Death, and Nazgral was following close behind him. They were given power over a third of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.

    – The Codex 6:7-8

    Alarei, the rumoured exile kicked the spurs of his horse until he was riding full gallop along the empty road, the noise of the horse's hooves on the dirt rang through his wet ears, the unfolded collar of his coat kept his neck dry, but the hood he was wearing barely kept his face protected as the wind blew gusts of water into his face. Even at full gallop on a wet, soggy road, all Alarei could think about was home.

    Ah, Brimmingshire in sight, almost there. Alarei could feel Sombre was getting tired and so with a few clicking noises, Sombre slowed his pace to an easy trot, it would only be a few minutes until they were both inside Brimmingshire's high walls, where a stable and a bed were in order. The next day would be the day that he would leave Brimmingshire, still in the back of his mind unsure that his prophecy was even true. Perhaps he didn't want to believe, perhaps there was a part of him that wished there was no threat so that he could just return to his home and family, his due and proper and grow old in peace and tranquillity. Then again, the other part of him loved the rush of going into the unknown with nothing but your sword and balls, that thrill of adventure, the hard work of accomplishment.

    Sombre slowed as the two approached the entrance gate, Alarei reached to his hip and pulled a lace of gold from his pouch and reached out to hand it to one of the gate keepers. The gate keeper, a kind old looking soul reached out but quickly retracted in fear noticing Alarei's wet, shining, almost majestic looking crest which was sewn onto his coat shoulder, engraved with intricate detail cold trimming contrasting his dark brown coat which got even darker, almost black as it was soaked in the rain. Alarei's face wore a confused look as the man looked at him in speculation.

    “Is there something wrong with the currency I offer?” Alarei asked, slightly confused about the delay. “A military man. You are allowed to enter without pay, sir.” The man replied with confidence. “Former military, I wished to serve my country not the scum that leach her prosperity.” Alarei replied in a stern tone.
    “Understood, if you ask me sir, it is good to see an honest man in a uniform once again.” The man told him in a relaxed tone. There was a moment of silence there, where the men just looked at each other until Alarei cleared his throat and looked at the large, thick wooden gate in front of him.
    “If you may accept my payment and allow me to continue, sir, I have an audience with the duke.”
    “No payment necessary, friend, a man like you enters Brimmingshire with no expense” the man replied as he gave the signal to those up on the wall to open the gate.

    The large wooden gate creaked open with a noise that really showed how heavy it is, just enough for Sombre to get through with a slow trot. The roads and walkways were empty as the rain turned into a complete downpour. Damn, Alarei really wanted to get inside, and asked the gatekeeper the quickest route to the duke's manor. The gatekeeper gave him some simple instructions to follow and after some riding, Alarei found a stable to leave Sombre at, offering the owner some coin to keep him there until the rain stopped. Alarei proceeded to unlace a rather large brown package from the back of the horse, drenched in rain and moist blood.

    Alarei walked the rest of the way on the drenched cobblestone, walking towards a small iron gate, which led up to a rather steep hill. Alarei continued to unlace the gate and opened it to give way to a piercing twisted cry. He shut the gate behind him and continued up the hill, and behind the cover of the bare trees, a manor could be seen, with the first floor of the home lightened by fireflies. Finally reaching the front door, Alarei exerted a long sigh, then he knocked. The first to answer was the dukes servant, a tall respectable man who spoke with a hint of formality in his voice.

    “Ahh, Master Alarei, do come in! Let me take your coat...and the package, and be you off to the living quarters where the duke waits patiently for your audience.” Alarei gave a warm smile and nodded, taking off his soaked coat and placing the package on the table beside him. He then walked down the hallway, his leather boots squelching across the elegant rug beneath him. He then took a left, through the front deck and then proceeded through the next doorway, which led to the living quarters where the Duke spent most of his time.

    “Alarei!” the duke let out a cheerful laugh. “You return! Do you bear news of your...small adventure?” the duke extended his arm, pointing towards the comfortable green high chair by the fireplace. “Do take a seat by the fire, you look drenched, is there anything I can get you? Edward!” the name called through the house as Alarei proceeded to take a seat, sighing with great relief.

    “Just put the deer on rack Aldridge, that is all, I mustn’t spoil my appetite for tonight’s feast."
    Aldridge replied with a smile, to which Aldridge's servant, Edward entered. “Cook the deer that Alarei has provided us with please, and do take your time, me and Alarei have much to talk about.”

    Alarei looked at Aldridge as he turned his attention back to him, to which Alarei began to draw a pipe from a pocket. As Alarei looked into Aldridge's age-worn eyes, he packed the pipe with tobacco, a pinch at a time, rotating it to ensure that the pipe-weed was evenly distributed. “Where did we leave off, sir” he said as he finished filling the pipe. He hesitated before putting the pipe in his mouth. “May I?” he asked Aldridge. “Of course friend, whatever makes you comfortable. When we last talked, you were telling me of your times spent on the savage isles with the Drall, whom you spent a year and a half of your exile.” With the flick of a finger a flame danced on Alarei's thumb, which he dipped into the bowl of the pipe. As he lit the well packed tobacco, puffing the vaguely cinnamon smoke determinedly, he regarded the duke critically.

    “Ah” he said, his pipe lit, “It was a rainy night, much like tonight. I was lost in the woods of Angramire, still in my innocent and more vulnerable years, it was then, after much trial, that I met my first Drall. A magnificent sight at that.” His mouth began to wander as his mind retracted into a memory like stasis, recalling each event to the Duke in vivid detail, much like that a Drall would do.

    Revenge Solves Everything.

  11. #11
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    Default Rage of a Monster

    Rain. Of all the possible weathers, it had to rain. As if I didn't have my hands full already.

    Maiyu plunged into the Forest of Whispers with Dragan right behind her. Dragan's breathing was heavy, Maiyu could hear it. His roars invaded right inside Maiyu's skull as she made her desperate escape attempt. Dragan was mowing down anything that obstructed his path. More than once did Dragan's axe hit Maiyu, but the hits only managed to scratch her. She was running as fast as she could because facing Dragan one-on-one was foolish. She would stand no chance against him in close combat.

    As Maiyu hopped over stones and zig-zagged through the trees, all this time she was trying to figure out a way to at least slow Dragan down. Lightning struck suddenly right in front of Maiyu, felling a tree and sealing Maiyu's escape route. She quickly turned to the other direction but Dragan was still able to land another hit on her. Now she was bleeding from her arm.

    Dragan: ”You'll never escape from me alive! I'LL KILL YOU, YOU WORTHLESS WHORE!

    Dragan's threats echoed all around the Forest of Whispers, it caused the wild life to flee in terror. Maiyu was rapidly losing hope of ever escaping this monster of a man. There was nothing she could use to her advantage in the forest, not even the dense trees because of Dragan's strength. Finally they arrived to a clearing in the middle of the forest, there were more spiders than you could even imagine. It was as if it was their sanctuary of sorts, a home. Maiyu kept running but Dragan finally caught her and immediately smashed her into a tree.

    Dragan: ”I'll make sure your death is slow and painful, you b*tch!”

    Dragan grabbed Maiyu from her throat and slammed her into a tree again, now choking her against the tree. Maiyu kept kicking Dragan but to no avail, the man didn't seem to feel any pain. It was all because of the poison that he had inhaled, rather than weakening him the poison had actually made him stronger. As Maiyu struggled for air, Dragan laughed and punched her hard in the stomach. You could see the force of the punch from the cracks that appeared into the tree.
    He kept punching and slightly loosening his grip from Maiyu so that she didn't choke completely, it was all to torture her. After all she had just crushed Dragan's income, his guild. Just as Maiyu's life was about to escape from her body, a miracle happened. A wild boar smashed into Dragan, throwing him a few feet in air. Maiyu landed on the ground, holding her throat and cackling.

    Dragan: ”Tch! Time to die piggy!”

    Now was Maiyu's chance to act, it was most likely her last chance also. She had to make this one count. The spiders were still in the clearing, they hadn't budged even though Dragan was right next to them. Brave little creatures, Maiyu thought and hatched a plan. The spider web, that was her only way to survive. Just as Dragan dealt the killing blow to the boar, splitting it's skull in half, Maiyu finished up with her layer of web on the ground. Dragan turned and faced Maiyu, his eyes were not of human's anymore, they were as black as the void itself. Something was definitely happening to Dragan but this was not the time to be concerned about that, now the only thing that mattered was the trap. Dragan first took a few steps but quickly noticed that Maiyu was just standing still, as if waiting for him, not even trying to run away.

    Dragan: ”Another one of your pesky traps.. Bah! You'll never get me with those!”
    Maiyu: ”Wrong.”

    Dragan leaped right over the layer of web, and was headed towards Maiyu with his axe held on his side. Maiyu also leaped in air, surprising Dragan, and made a powerful roundhouse kick into Dragan's jaw. Dragan's flight stopped and he fell down, right on the trap. The web immediately clutched onto Dragan's body, rendering him completely immobile. He cursed and struggled furiously to get out of the web but to no avail. Maiyu dropped on the ground, Dragan was able to get a glimpse of her glowing yellow & green eyes. Without another word, Maiyu took out her crossbow and shot a bolt straight into Dragan's heart. Dragan gasped once before becoming completely motionless.

    The bleeding from her arm and numerous other hits had taken their toll from Maiyu, she was forced to kneel down. She had a vial of Sanguin blood on her belt which she quickly drank; the blood worked as a slight healing potion. Maiyu took a few deep breaths and kept looking at Dragan. She had finally succeeded, her ”contract” with the Oathkeepers was hereby forfeit.

    Fate would not have their duel end like this however. The impossible happened: Dragan's eyes shot open and with inhuman strength he ripped the web which held him. His eyes were still black as coal but now they were also bleeding, thin streams of blood flowed over his cheeks. His expression was full of fury and anger. Maiyu couldn't believe it, had Dragan just resurrected? What manner of power did it take to kill this man? Dragan grabbed his axe and started running towards Maiyu.

    Dragan: ”I'm going to enjoy ripping you limb from limb!!”
    Maiyu: ”To hell with you Dragan!”

    Maiyu formed another web string from her fingertip and set a row of knives onto the stream. She then launched all of them at Dragan who took all the shots without even flinching. It seemed he didn't care at all what happened, as long as Maiyu was his next victim. Such determination was more than frightening, was he even consciously doing this anymore? Dragan swinged his axe and it cut down a tree nearby. Maiyu was able to dodge the strike and threw another stream of knives at Dragan.
    This time the knives made him flinch; so he did feel pain after all. Before Maiyu was able to throw another stream, Dragan kicked and grabbed her and threw her towards her own layer of web. The web didn't effect Maiyu but the fall cracked her left arm so that she wouldn't be able to use it for now.

    Dragan: ”Can you feel it.. ? Can you hear your death bells ringing?”
    Maiyu: ”Ugh.. Not yet.”

    Maiyu jumped up and sweeped Dragan's legs. He fell down on the ground, Maiyu followed the sweep with another bolt from her crossbow. The bolt went through Dragan's abdomen which caused a splash of blood to erupt from the hit point. Maiyu continued her flurry of attacks by stabbing Dragan with two of her throwing knives, coated with deadly poison, right into his chest. Dragan still struggled, he refused to die no matter what. He grabbed Maiyu from her left leg and drag her down on the ground. From there he continued by driving his fist into Maiyu's stomach and sides, cracking her rib and causing some serious internal damage, and to finally finish her off, he grabbed his axe and held it behind his head like an executioner.

    Dragan: ”Haa.. haa.. Die.. !!”

    Just as Dragan was about to make the killing blow, his own mortality finally showed itself. Blood started pouring down from his mouth, forcing him to vomit large amounts of blood. Dragan couldn't hold onto his axe anymore, it fell on the ground behind him and Dragan was left on his knees. Dragan's eyes turned back into red and black(his ”natural” color), it seemed he had lost his inhuman strength. Maiyu slowly rose with a slight stagger, coughing some blood herself too. Dragan's face and torso were already covered in black blood.

    Dragan: ”You.. b*tch..”
    Maiyu: ”. . .”
    Dragan: ”Heh.. Heh heh.”
    Maiyu: ”.. Still laughing.. even though you're dying?”
    Dragan: ”I had a good one.. too bad you showed up.. stupid *****.. Ha ha..” *Cough*
    Maiyu: *grabs Dragan's axe*
    Dragan: ”Ha.. Ha ha! HA HA! An emotionless husk devoid of feelings.. there's no hope left for you Maiyu!”
    Maiyu: ”.. See you in hell.”

    Maiyu's eyes flashed as she made a full swing and severed Dragan's head with his own axe, causing a blood shower to erupt from the now headless torso. The blood was black as coal, just like Sanguin blood. The last victim Dragan's axe claimed was his own, ironic if you think about it. As his head rolled down a small slope, Maiyu could see how he had an insane smile on his face. The bastard laughed about dying, he laughed right into the face of death itself. Maiyu slowly lynched away from Dragan's corpse, bearing a slight smile herself.
    She was heavily injured and thus couldn't walk far. She had to rely on her potions to ease the pain so that she could reach the nearest town or city.

    Even the potions couldn't keep the pain from entering Maiyu's body however. Each step hurt only more which eventually led her to collapse on the ground, just on the edge of the forest. Soon she lost conciousness..

    I was ready to give up hope and die.. it's not like there was much reason for me to live anyway.
    Last edited by Takesh; 03-02-2011 at 01:25 PM.

  12. #12
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    (( Phew, has it been a long time! I decided to see what was happening around these boards since I left -ages- ago, and I stumbled across this thread, and my god. Have you all grown!

    Whilst I, myself, have matured as a writer and a person, I can't help but find myself intimidated ;P But, I'm deciding to throw myself in head first here, so here is a character sheet for a half-giant character I have in mind: If you mind about me creating a few tibits of lore surrounding the half-giants, just say so. But aye, feel free to reject me if I'm not good enough now-a-days, I'm a tad rusty. ))


    Name: Wulfhelm “Mountain-Breaker” Arkahm

    Age: 45

    Gender: Male

    Race
    : Half-Giant.

    Class: Warrior

    Appearance: Wulfhelm is, like all half-giants, absolutely enormous. Standing at a colossal eight and a half feet, he dwarfs most other people – and is even larger than most half giants. It's clear that he is a titan of a man, and his entire body is built like a complete tank, barrelling, bulging muscular structure stretches a scarred, thick leathery skin (which clearly displays years upon years of living in the harsh, mountain regions that some half-giants reside in) to it's limits, he is the true image of a barbarian, standing like a brick wall, it is clear that it would take a lot to topple him.

    His hair is a dark, mahogany brown, and is thick and lustrous. The flowing, stoutly mane is tamed into two braided plats that hang behind his back, and sway heavily with every movement he makes – near the end of them, are two, silver cylinders that appear to keep the entire thing together, large enough to fit around the wrist of most humans, these “braces” are pure steel, and intricately carved, the striking image of two, salivating wolves fighting each other etched into one, and the image of a colossal mountain etched onto the other.

    As for his horns, any half-giant worth his beer would die for them. They closely resemble a rams, and are several inches thick, the jutting, tenacious bones harder than steel, and able to break through it just as easily. The glinting ivory would make any person – not just half-giants – cower in fear. They sit upon his skull like a glorious helmet, curving backwards illustriously, the points tucking neatly underneath his ears, giving him an almost bull-like appearance.

    His looks are on par with most Half-giants, not ugly, per say, simply brutish and stoutly. A broad jaw sits beneath his skull, blunt-ended, powerful nose sitting, jutting above it. His eyes, however, are rather interesting, whilst most of the time they are amber with the hearty idiocy of most half-giants, they sometimes glint a deep, azure blue, whenever Wulfhelm is deep in thought. It is clear that there is more to this titan of a barbarian than first meets the eye.

    Armour: Wulfhelm's armor suits his entire image: Made mostly of animal hides, he tends to wear a thick, tanned jerkin of Grey wolf pelt, the hair of which has been trimmed, everywhere except for the shoulders, which sport the thick, mottled fur of the wolf it was stripped from. Whilst obviously very resilient, the jerkin is rather crude and patched together – this is made apparent by straps of brown, studded bear leather which keeps the rough pieces of wolf hide together. The faint, clinking sound emanating from beneath the jerkin suggests an iron chain-mail undercoat, which keeps the great titan safe from arrows, and anything powerful enough to pierce through the thickened wolf-skin.

    The covering of his leggings consist of a heavy, chain-mail war-kilt that is kept around his waist by a coarse tie of rawhide. On the front and back sides of the kilt are long strips of wolf leather, which are kept attached to the armor by rusted, iron chains that have been snapped onto the rawhide belt. Upon these vertically-hanging strips of wolf-fur are large plate discs, which seem hurriedly hammered into place. They hang untidily from the fur, and yet are extremely effective at protecting his more.. vulnerable parts.

    On his feet, the giant wears shin-length fur boots, the gray leather also presumably taken from the hide of wolves, tufts of fur spill from the top of the boots, adding a sense of wilderness and untamed fury to his entire, lumbering and yet terrifying visage.

    Weapons:
    Whilst Wulfhelm typically makes use of whatever is at hand (be it boulders, logs, perhaps the door of some unlucky tavern owner), he typically carries two, beautifully made hatchets at the sides of his rawhide belt. The axe-handles themselves are crafted from the bones of a great bear. Several inches thick, these bones are guarded by a wrapped length of thick, coarse boar hide, which also keep the head of the hatchets attached to the stunningly-carved ivory.

    The axe-heads are a beautiful sight – like the serene, intimating beauty of the mountain itself, they are made of glinting, flawless steel, sharpened to perfection. Along the side of the axe heads, there lay masterfully etched carvings, the image of them clear as day: A fanged skull, flanked by the furious, angry, snarling expressions of drooling alpha wolves, the weapons would be cumbersome in the hands of anyone other than a half-giant, and in Wulfhelm's hands they are swung as quickly and as naturally as his own hands.

    Personality
    : Whilst Wulfhelm is very intimidating at first, it is clear that he is a kindly, hearty spirit when he doesn't want to cleave your head in two. At face-value, he appears a complete and utter brute, speaking in a tongue which is heavily-influenced with a mixture of dwarfish and half-giant accent.

    However, those intelligent enough to look closer will notice sparks of absolute genius from time to time, both in Wulfhelm's words and his actions. Whilst most of the rumours about “intelligent half giants” are mostly untrue, once one looks further they will find that Wulfhelm can be a source of wisdom, ingenuity and inspiration whenever his barbarian instincts are at bay.

    Which, unfortunately, isn't too often.

    Wulfhelm has a strong, internal struggle with the rage that caused him to be exiled from the Wolf-Clan (More on that in the history section.), and as such is capable of acts of truely horrific violence, although, this natural anger is something that troubles him deeply - he is not evil by any sense of the word. But, if you get on his bad side, he won't hesitate a moment whilst cleaving your head firmly back into it's shoulders.

    Regardless of his barbarian nature, there is a kinder yin to his rage-fueled yang. And, although he doesn't show it often, the enormous man is capable of strong, powerful emotion. Nothing complicated, just pure, unadulterated love, joy, or sorrow. L

    (Quirks: Wulfhelm, like all half-giants, has a weakness for good ale. In addition, he also possesses a rather limited vocabulary, and long sentences tend to confuse him, unless he is in one of his rare bouts of intelligence.))
    Skills/Abilities:

    Berserk: Wulfhelm's fighting style is based soley around brute strength, and the dual axes he wields. On the battlefield he is truly awe-inspiring, rushing into the thick of mêlées and sending crimson blood and entrails flying – emerging victorious by displaying feats of both awful rage and ruthless recklessness, this approach to fighting more often than not gets him into trouble.

    Endurance: Wulfhelm has the subtlety of a boulder, and is about as resilient as once, too. Not only is his armor deceptively resistant to all kinds of physical damage, but he has such thick, leathery skin as a result of the harsh conditions of the mountainsides he lived in growing up. Arrows, unless enchanted or particularly well-made (or aimed), have a hard time even getting an inch into his hide. And good luck breaking his bones, you'll need a lot of strength, or an awfully sharp blade to break through three inches of hardened bone and marrow.

    Perks:

    Tracking: Wulfhelm, whilst appearing a brute, is surprisingly in-tune with the wilds, though not Druidic in any sense of the word, he has spent years in the harsh conditions of the mountains, and the forests within them, due to his past. As such, he -had- to learn to hunt for his own food, or die. He is capable of, as such, reading tracks for miles on end.

    Ingenuity:
    Whilst being mostly a brute, there are rare occasions where Wulfhelm will display some of that rare, half-giant intelligence: Seeing things that others miss entirely, figuring out riddles that would take the average human months to ponder on, or working out the plans of even the most devious of enemies. Unfortunately, after these brief moments of wit, Wulfhelm will go back to being a blankly-staring imbecile.

    Titan
    : Wulfhelm is terrifyingly strong, and as such, is capable of lifting the mightiest boulders, and tearing the tallest trees straight out of their roots, such strength becomes a great use whilst traversing lands, as Wulfhelm is capable of clearing a path in seconds, or shouldering many wounded companions.

    History:
    Kal'Kalak lore:

    Wulfhelm hails from one of the savage, more tribal groups of half-giants, the Kal'kalak. The Kal'kulak have a deep-rooted belief in following the ways of animals, and is, as such, split into three divisions of tribes, who wander the lonely, desolate mountainsides and peaks to the great, freezing north: The Mountain Hare clan, the Wolf Clan, and the Goat Clan.

    When an intelligent half-giant is born into any of these clans, they are taught the great magic art of farseeing and shamanism from information left behind by the previous clan sage. These sages are revered and feared within the clans, both treated with a position of superstitious respect.

    Wulfhelm comes from the Wolf Clan, a proud and barbarous tribe of Half-giants, and known as the strongest of the three Kal'kalak., the Wolf Clan take after their clan-animal by being master huntsmen and trappers, hunting even the wolf itself – for if they did not wear the thick, warm skin of their hides, nor ate from the nourishing flesh and drank their warm blood, they would not survive in the mountainous regions of the Great North, such it would be if they weren't able to draw on the mighty wolf's strength. They reside in the forests in the valleys and beneath the great mountains.

    The Goat Clan are great friends of the Wolf clan, and they often occupy the same proximity – though it is more of a mutual respect. The Goat Clan follow the way of their animal by sheltering in the gargantuan mountainsides of the north, taking warmth and shelter within the mountainsides' caves, and hunting the goats who make their home there, drawing on their strength with respect, much as the Wolf Clan do.

    The Mountain Hare clan are the most secretive of all clans of the Kal'kalak. They are masters of blending into the beautiful landscape, having taken after their clan-animal, although this way of life has not come without a price. They are a fearful tribe – deep-seated suspicions and ancient fears run through their veins, and they rarely even show themselves apart from when the Kal'kalak draw together for their yearly meet: And even then, they do not partake in the festivities.

    It is said there is a great and bloody rivalry between the Mountain Hare Clan and the Wolf Clan, as two-hundred years ago, the Wolf warrior Neihelar had a disagreement with the wise and sage like leader of the Mountain Hares, Saradikar. Neihelar, being headstrong and foolish, challenged Saradikar to Kar'gul, the most sacred form of Kal'kalak combat – and the most deadly. Armed with only their fists, the two fought to the death atop one of the highest mountain peaks, which the Kal'kalak named: “Gorgoth.”

    It was said that Neihelar broke Saradikar's head in two, and drank the thick, crimson liquid from his skull.

    Despite the Wolf clan's attempts to make amends with the Mountain Hare Clan by exiling Neihelar for his reckless blood-lust, the Mountain Hare Clan was secretive from that day forward, and rising tensions began between the Wolf Clan and the Mountain Hares.

    That night, the Wolf-clan's sage had a horrible, wrenching vision whilst in her trance, one that struck fear into the hearts of every wolf-clan on that fateful, horrible night of Saradikar's slaughtering. The vision was so potent, that the half-giantess died on that night, but with her last, drawing breath, she spat out a prophecy:


    “On thunder's night,
    blood will rain,
    from the mountain's plight,
    a shattering pain.

    Mountain-breaker,
    skull-drinker,
    bringer of change.

    Blood shall be drank again.

    Two hundred years,
    two hundred summers.
    Two hundred winters,
    darkness upon us.”


    Two hundred years,
    mountain breaker.
    Darkness...



    “Please, blood-brother! Your hunt couldn't match up to mine last summer!” The hearty, booming voice of a half-giant called, accompanied with the earth-shaking, thudding footsteps which sent birds scattering, and fearful legends spreading. It was no wonder that, in some parts of the world, the half-giants were seen as barbarous monsters.

    “Hah! Don't kid yourself, Wulfhelm! That wolf you strangled was barely a pup, but a wee few months suckling from it's mother!” Replied a much deeper, older, and yet equally hearty retort that was full of cheer, although it was intertwined with grunts of effort that escaped into the frigid, mountain air as he hauled the hunt over his shoulder. It was freezing although, neither of the half-giants seemed to mind, perfectly content in the thick wolf hide that kept them warm from the unforgiving wind.

    A young Wulfhelm beamed a wolf-like grin at his friend, retorting: “Perhaps we should spend less time arguing and more time getting the hunt back to the clan meet? I'm sure that they'll be wasting away, waiting for the feast that you so boldly promised them, Kair!” as he aided his companion in lifting the carcass, trying to distract himself from the warm, scarlet fluids that were dripping down his fingers that had once belonged to the corpse.

    “I promised them? As far as I remember, it was you who swore on your pride so recklessly, that's a bad habit of yours, blood-brother. It's no wonder you're constantly getting into trouble. 'I swear on my soul' this and 'I swear on my honor' that, the sages take that kind of thing VERY seriously.” Warned Kair with superstitious wonderment, as they breached the crest of the small mountain they were climbing, emerging into a small, widened valley.

    The roasting smell of wolf, goat and hare meat flowed into the air as Wulfhelm took in the clan meet – it was a very joyous occasion for the Wolf and Goat clans, who relished in the festivity of it all, and the feast that was dished out. Music filled the air, as groups of men beat on wolf-skin drums and hammered bones against wooden logs, the wailing, tribal singing snaking out into the sky. Children ran at each other, play-fighting with long, wooden twigs resembling blades, and countless of them sat around a massive, sawed-in-half log, being dished out servings of stew and meat generously ladled onto oak-carved bowls. They ate greedily, eating the feast with relish and shoving the piles of meat into gnashing jaws, sharing tales and laughter.

    Half-giants and half-giantesses sat on logs in great circles, telling stories of great valor and heroism. Wulfhelm found himself entranced as he listened on: Dumbly carrying the wolf carcass as if it wasn't even there – a phantom, dead weight on his shoulders. Ever since he was a boy, he had been fascinated by these tales of power and might, how the great Akarhik had once took down an alpha wolf with his bare hands, how Yumian had once toppled a tree to stop his son drowning in the deceptive river of ice. The children listening looked on with the same, glazed-over expression of fascination as he did.

    “Wulfhelm? Wulfhelm!” Snapped Kail's voice, breaking the young half-giant from the trance as he looked on at his blood-brother, his friend, who was looking upon him with mocking amusement. “You can enjoy the stories later, Wulfhelm.” He remarked condescendingly. “But for now, let's get this wolf on the fire?”

    “R...Right.” Wolfhelm replied, still dazed as he carried the wolf to the burning, hissing embers of the large, roaring cooking fire.

    Darkness...
    Darkness...
    Darkness...
    “What did you say to me, old man!?” Roared Wulfhelm, as Kail barely even held back the half-giant. Even at the early age of twenty three, Wulfhelm held considerable, mighty strength, and was even beginning to grow the stumps of horns on his forehead. He was kicking against Kail's grip furiously, who was going red in the face with effort as Wulfhelm screamed at the Mountain Hare Clan.

    A crowd had gathered around the commotion – men, women and children watched on in excitement – there was nothing the Half-giants loved more than a fight. Unarmed combat was the absolute epitome of strength to them, and every half-giant worth their horns was cheering Wulfhelm on, sharing the same fevered blood-lust that Wulfhelm was experiencing tenfold.

    However, the wolf sage – an old, wrinkled crone dressed in a draping robe of stitched-together Rowan leaves complete with wolf sinew and cub skulls wrapped around the hem – was watching on with an unreadable expression, her wise, silver eyes widening with each exchange, a rising dread becoming more and more evident within the wiry irises.

    “I said you are foolhardy and barely even worth your horns, wolf-suckler!” Retorted Korgat, a red-faced barbarian of a man who was in his prime, aged sixty two, he was ridiculously healthy, and his horns sprang upwards in a great arc, unlike others who modestly tucked behind their ears. No, Korgat was too proud for that, yes. He was insulting Wulfhelm out of pride. He found it disgusting that such a young, inexperienced boy could speak slanders against his name as he had earlier tonight – it had started with a passing, spiteful comment, but Korgat knew this whelp had to be put in his place.

    Indignantly, Wulfhelm bit back, snarling: “Go and hide in your hole, Hare-clan! Your kind has always been cowards! You talk now, but let's see how well you fare when you try to live up to your words! Fight me! Kail, let me go or so help me I will rend your skull from it's place, blood-brother!”

    “No you won't Wulfhelm.” Kail said, taking the insult lightly, retorting with strained effort as he struggled to keep the young man back, the veins popping out on the nape of his neck with effort. “I thought we'd been over that? Leave this Hare alone, he is not worth your rage.”

    “Oh, but I think I am!” Korgat taunted, his voice full of amusement as the crowd continued to jeer on, the old, yet unwise Half-giant spreading his arms out wide as the moon rose over the horizon, staring down like a great, ancient titan roused by this confrontation between the Hare and the Wolf. “Let's see you fight me, fool!”

    Wulfhelm's rage built up, mounting further and further, a deep, ancient blood-lust rose into his veins like boiling, molten rock. He felt it seethe into his head, and coat his eyes in dark, vengeful mist of red. How dare he? How dare this old man insult him and carry on questioning his bravery when he was being held back? He would rend him in two, he would crack his head open and watch the scarlet blood splatter gloriously around him, he would drink from his skull!

    “KAR'GUL!”

    A hushed, stunned silence spread like quite , flickering wildfire amongst the crowd, what had become entertainment for them had suddenly simmered into a low, piercing dread. They were expecting a fight, but not one to the death. They quietly died down in shame, and even Kail let go of his straining friend as Wulfhelm stepped forward into the circle, the light of the dying camp fire dying to his right – he only then realized the weight of the words he had yelled at the height of his rage. Only now, did he realize the grave mistake that he had made: The burden hung on his shoulders and threatened to drown him in his own shame.

    But he couldn't go back now.
    His honor was at stake.

    “I...” He began shakily, as Korgat watched on, pale faced and no longer proud and arrogant. “Challange you to Kar'gul... On the height of the bloodied mountain... To do unarmed combat...” Wulfhelm stared at Kail, who looked back at him with a panicked, warning, reproachful look. His eyes full of fear and concern for his friend. “Until the death.”

    Korgat stared at him in consuming silence.

    The moon rose further in the sky, spilling moonlight onto the two half-giants, as if grimly agreeing with the challenge.

    “Very well.”
    Mountain breaker..
    Spilled blood...
    Exile.


    On that fateful night, an avalanche roared in the distance, and the half-giants and giantesses shivered in their places, for they knew what this meant. “Mountain-breaker...” Hissed the wolf mage, backing reproachfully from the site of the feast. “Exile...” She murmured, then yelled: “EXILE! THE DARKNESS, THE PROPHECY MUST NOT COME ABOUT!” The entire crowd rose in an uproar of terrified screams. In absolute pandemonium, lightning struck in the middle of the clearing and set a white hot, searing pulse of light into the eye of every half-giant. They ran, wailing and whooping, leaping over each other in pure, animalism to get away from the unseen enemy.

    Wulfhelm returned, lips stained a scarlet crimson. Staring at the empty feasting table, a sickening sense of dread overcame him.

    Exile.

    He had heard the prophecy before, how could he of been so blind? Why did he not see the events he had just set in motion?

    The avalanche that had struck as soon as he placed the cracked skull of Korgat to his lips in his rage fluttered back into his mind, affronting him like a the gargantuan, cold mountainsides themselves.

    “Mountain-breaker...”
    “Exile...”
    “The Prophecy...”
    “Darkness...”
    The whispers echoed all around him.
    Startled, like a newborn fawn, he ran into the night.

    But worse than everything, worse than being exiled, worse than loosing his home, worse than knowing he'll never hear those fantastical stories and legends spoken again...

    Was the fact that Kail was amongst the whispers.
    His blood-brother.
    His friend.
    They had all outcast him out of superstitious fear.

    It was like a knife in his heart.

    ((Dear god, that's a long history. Righty, nice, meaty slab of Half-giant lore for you guys to chew on. I'll make my first post later once I get some writing juice back.))
    Last edited by kain222; 03-03-2011 at 06:23 PM.

  13. #13
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    Blue sat at his stool, staring into his mug of ale. The warm atmosphere of the tavern relaxed him, as he listened to the rain pound against the side of the building. The tavern was emptier than when he arrived two days before. It has been a month since the incidents have occurred. Blue couldn’t believe it was only a month, for the change in lifestyle for him has greatly altered.

    He has been searching for information regarding Tesiana’s disappearance. Being on the run though has made it hard, for a few times he barely escaped the clutch of the interception squad. Along the way money had been a problem, so Blue had to resort to taking on mercenary requests, many of them going against his moral convictions. There was nothing he could do though and for at the moment, he accepted this fate.


    The tavern owner stood behind the bar, cleaning a mug with what seemed like a dirty rag. The owner seemed to be an older man, probably in his mid 60s. He had a small limp in his walk, which Blue thought might have been due to being in the military.

    The man looked at Blue and smiled. “This is your last night here, right boy?”

    The ale seeming to start to take effect, Blue replied in elvish “Ya and then onto the next low paying and/or life threatening job”.

    The man gave a surprised look, and stopped cleaning the mug. Blue noticed his mistake, reached forward for his mug, and got up to go back to his room. His cloak though got caught, ripping it clean in half. If the owner wasn’t surprised before, he was now as the Legion V tattoo revealed itself. Blue was ready to play it off as a joke, but anyone and everyone knew what the real symbol looked like. The tattoo isn’t made by normal means, but by royal magic. One can clearly see the difference in one that is a fake vs. a real one.


    “It’s you…” the tavern owner said.

    Blue’s heart dropped. The only reason he was here, at the tavern which was part of Krystania, even if it was 10-20 miles away, was because of Arsul. As Blue galloped away he heard Arsul yell to meet at the tavern that Tesa had her first alcohol drink at. This was the place, and Blue blown his cover. Blue prepared himself to run, but to his surprise something else happened.

    The man pointed at Blue and said in elvish “It’s a pleasure to meet our liberator”. The owner held up his grayish brown hair revealing his pointy ears. Blue relaxed abit and sat back down on the stool.

    “Liberator?” Blue asked confused.

    The owner leaned forward. “The one who will free us elves from exile” he whispered. Blue got caught off guard by the answer. “Exile? But what do you…” but when Blue was about to ask 4 people walked through the door with their hoods over their face. “Your friends will explain”

    Blue watched as they lowered their hoods, familiar faces behind them. Two of them were his friends Arsul and Soril, and the other two were the two that occupied him to Duke Rua when he was betrayed, Sen and his sister Laura.

    After a month of wandering, trying to find some information regarding Tesiana, he had no leads. Finally some light was shining on him. Hugging and laughing was in order, but even they looked troubled. The group and Blue sat down at the farthest table, while the tavern owner started to get drinks ready. The room was empty for most of the cust****s who were staying there went back to their rooms. They talked for abit, making jokes to try to liven up the place. Arsul was the first to speak, in regard to the information they had.

    Arsul: “Many things have changed since you left. First thing is Rau has ordered to exile all other races from Krystania. The noble have tried to stop this, but they haven’t been able to get anywhere. He is using foreign help, like paying mercenaries and bandits to make sure this plans go through. The second thing is the new Legion 5 general.”

    Arsul stopped for a second.

    Arsul: “Its Enys. Rau moved him from the 1st legion and made him Legion 5’s general.”

    Blue taped his fingers against the table thinking. He thought he knew what Rau was doing. The men might follow a friend of Blue’s. But why, when Enys could easily take Blue’s side. He then realized his mistake. That’s if Enys was on his side. Rau's ability to manipulate people shouldn't be disregarded.

    Arsul: “Blue the third thing is the most important, I think more important than the last.”

    Arsul and the others looked scared. It’s as if he didn’t want to say it, but had to.

    Arsul: “Blue… Rau wants you to be captured or dead. He’s not playing around anymore. He’s sending Titan to find you.”

    Titan was the nickname given to the 1st Legion general Enos Hatmor. He was said to be one of the most powerful people in all of the land. His golden armor, with his majestic sword at his side alone intimidated his foes. His power…that was a whole other story.

    Blue could feel some sweat going down his cheek. This was really bad news for him. The faces of the others agreed with him. If Blue fought Enos… the chances of winning, without going 100% Index, would be slim.

    Soril decided to speak up.

    Soril: “We do have some good news though out of all this bad. We might have some information regarding Tesa…”
    Last edited by *sky; 03-02-2011 at 09:17 PM.

  14. #14
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    Vonur was alone, but he was used to it. He had been alone ever since his mother had killed herself. Well this is not strictly true, as he father had returned a few years ago, but he is dead too. Vonur sighed, ‘What am I supposed to do now. Accused of murdering my father, leaving the citadel…I cannot return…ever.’

    Since leaving the citadel two days, and one night have passed. Vonur had been travelling west, and was almost out of food, for he had not reached any kind of civilisation to restock. ‘I don’t even know where I am going.’ He looked at the roof. Then he realised, ‘What the hell?! Oh yeah, I’m not underground anymore.’ This was the first time he had been outside, as most dwarves are born underground, and stay there. It was a dishonour to your family to travel beyond the surface, but Vonur’s family had no honour now anyway. He stopped to look up at the sky. It was magnificent. There was a big circle of white light, and many small dots as well. It was the most beautiful thing Vonur had ever seen. He decided he would camp here for the night.

    Vonur was unrolling his bedroll when suddenly a drop of some sort of liquid hit his arm. He looked at it cautiously. Then there was another, and another. Then it started to come down in waves. He looked up. The sky had gone, and a greyish black substance had formed. This substance was spitting down a refreshingly cold liquid unto Vonur’s skin. He licked his arm. It was water, ‘Amazing, this must be rain. To think, the surface has an endless supply of water from the roof…I mean sky.’ He quickly rolled up his bed again and moved towards a cliff face that looked to be about five minutes walk away.

    Once he reached the cliff, he wondered along it until he had found a shelter. The was thoroughly soaked now, but he didn’t mind, new experiences toughen the soul. He started to unroll his bed again, for the second time that night, under the shelter the cliff provided. Once he had his bed rolled, and his armour off, sitting next to the bed in an orderly fashion with his axe, he lay down and looked out at the world beyond. ‘I will return to you someday, Iron Citadel. I will return with honour, and I will show you the world beyond. Not something to be scared of, or to ignore, but something to embrace.’ Vonur blinked the tears from his eyes, dwarves don’t cry. When he looked up again, out from his shelter, he saw a glowing light, a city. That was his new heading, towards civilisation, towards a new life, towards honour.

    ((I know its sort of short in comparison to the other posts, but I just wanted to sort of show Vonur’s feeling, how he wasn’t sure about anything anymore))

    ((EDIT: Oh crap, now that i post it it looks sooooo tiny, i might change it...should i?))
    RPing, i'm not really sure neil...

    *week later*

    I am Karosath, the almighty destroyer of the royal family MWAHAHAHAHAHA

    *next day*

    NEIL: so gecko hows the RPing
    ME:who is this gecko??? Adress me only as Karosath, the almighty, u peasent

  15. #15
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    Tori paced around the house. What was she going to do? Her father had forgotten to buy groceries for over three weeks. Tori has been having to make less and less food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner because her dad wasn't buying food. What is even worse is that she never sees her dad because he goes to work earlier than she can get up, and gets back while she is asleep. He only gets about three hours of sleep, too, so Tori thinks that is part of the problem.
    Tori decided to quit over-thinking it, and just take a seat on the couch. How am I going to remind Father that he needs to buy groceries? Not make him a dinner tonight and just give him a sticky note to remind him to buy food? I don't think that would work.. And besides, he only has one meal a day, for some reason. He needs his Dunchfast, as Gama calls it.. But, what am I going to do?
    The spiky, black haired blood elf named Gama came out of his room.
    "Speak of tha devil..." Tori said, smirking. Gama just looked at her with a confused expression on his face.
    "Are you trying to imply that I'm going to hell?" Gama said in elvish, his head tilted to one side.
    "Now where in tha /world/ did you learn that language Gama?" Tori half-shouted half-said in elvish. She stood up, towering over Gama. His eyes flashed with fear for a second, but his eyes quickly returned to normal when he saw his twin Ryoku popping out of the corner. Gama's coal-black eyes flickered from Tori to Ryoku.
    Ryoku was just a bit taller than Gama, but other than that, they lookec the exact same. They both had spiky black hair, coal-black eyes, and both wore a black vest over a t-shirt and jeans. They both had the same pair of boots, too. They wore dark brown hiking boots.
    "Actually," Ryoku started, shyly looking to the ground. " We learned it from our teacher... She got mad one day and cussed a studant out..."
    Tori looked to Ryoku, feeling bad that she had scolded Gama.
    "Well than, I guess your okay, if you learned it from a studant.. What is his name, do 'ya know?" Tori hoped they knew so that she could get a crack at the student for being dumb enough to get cursed out.
    Ryoku and Gama shook their heads in unison, then Ryoku quickly walked over to Gama and stood next to him.
    "Come on, lets go on a walk.." Tori said, leading Gama and Ryoku towards the door to outside. She had an idea in mind, but it wasn't for the walk. Maybe they could get a little more food, by stealing from the cart in the square....

    ((Wow.. Looking back at my post, I realized just how small it actually is! xD Well, I hope it's big enough.. It look ginormous with all the coding put in...))
    "Shawn, what the hell do poker chips smell like?"
    "Butterflies."
    _______________
    "Shawn, do you have your license?"
    "Do you mean my pilots license? Or my license to kill, which has been revoked. I would go into details, but then I would have to kill you, which I can't do because my license to kill has been revoked."
    "I was talking about your detective license..."

    ^^ Two awesome scenes from a T.V. show called Psych.
    _______________

  16. #16
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    Default ♪ I'm a sailor by heart! Nothing can tear ME apart.. ♫

    Nepture's Raider was sailing near the eastern coast of Heoden. The wind blew right into the face of the figure head of a silver mermaid. The sea was calm for once, morning sun was releasing it's beams on the water which made it glitter more than usually. Bass was in charge of the steering wheel and held a small pint of rum in his hand. Whenever he drank some of the rum, the ship took some sudden turns which everyone could feel. He of course quickly straightened the course if it strayed too far.

    Spade had a pipe in his mouth and was playing some poker, much to everyone's surpise. Dingle was playing against him since he had nothing else to do at the moment.

    ”Time ta hit dem cards on tha table. Got a threesome o' ol' sevens. What'cha got Dingle?” Spade said without taking the pipe from his mouth.
    Dingle scratched the back of his head, actually trying to figure out what Spade had just said. He then laid out his cards on the table.
    ”Full house, kings an' sixs. Lookie 'ere! I think I won!”
    ”Wha.. ?! Ye soddin' cheat!”

    Olben was searching in the kitchen for a certain recipe called ”Pirate's Piss” which was supposed to be a soup so spicy that it could go as acid. It was a birthday surprise for Spade. Meanwhile Armin was sitting on top of the mermaid, looking at the open sea. This was his favorite spot and no one else had any business on it. Anyone who dared to climb on top of the mermaid would get a beating from Armin, something that both Buck and Benz had experienced several times.
    Speaking of the two idiots, they were trying to catch fish with their mouths and to make the attempt even more ridiculous, they were standing on the side of the deck which was not even near water. What of the captain then.. ?

    ”YARRR!! Ya handsome devil.. !!”

    Renshaw was checking himself out from a mirror in his quarters. Right next to the mirror was a large painting of Renshaw himself when he was younger. As the mirror reflected his best qualities, he brushed through his stubble and boasted a confident grin. Then, as if possessed by a demon, he grabbed the bottle of rum on the table and chug it down in an instant. He wiped his mouth and let out a hearty laugh. There were huge windows in the rear of the room, through them opened a vast ocean full of secrets and treasures. Just as nothing could get any better, a rather annoying scarf made it's usual morning scream.

    ”HYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!! ”
    ”Motherfu-.. !!”

    Renshaw instantly grabbed the red scarf and tore it into pieces. He stomped on the pieces and spit on them. He couldn't stand the scarf at all, not one bit. In a few hours though the scarf would assemble itself back and clutch into Renshaw's neck, a rather annoying curse to have. Renshaw, now pissed off, stormed out of his quarters. He kicked the door open and shouted:

    ”I need me self some damn rum!! SPADE! Throw me a bottle!!”
    ”Aye, aye, cap'n. Hold yer horses an' I'll git 'em”

    Soon Spade came back from the cargo hold, looking rather devastated. His face was hanging the same way a simple cloth hanged on a pole. He had just seen something more serious than the crew could possible handle: There was no more rum. Spade looked at Renshaw with a pink face (equivalent of pale face, he is a blood elf after all). Renshaw on the other hand turned angry, then calm, then depressed, then crushed.. and finally he gazed into the horizon. A single, manly tear flowed down his rough cheek as the sun glared at him with it's ever-striking splendor.

    ”Men.. We're facin' somethin' more serious than what we coulda possibly even begin to fathom.. We're outta rum..

    .. for the 12th time..

    .. this week.”


    The rest of the crew, except Olben and the honored guest Hiro due to certain restraints in his schedule, had gathered on the deck and were now crying their eyes out. Spade fell down on his knees and slammed his fist on the wooden boards, cursing God for abandoning them. Buck & Benz had no clue what was even going on but they still cried since everyone else did. Dingle comforted Bass, who was in a shock, by giving him a massage. Armin was standing silent, tears running all over his face and some snot forming in his nose. Armin was however the one who mustered all his strength and spoke out.

    *Sob* ”Dammit!! Pull yerselves together! Where's the closest city or village?! We can't give up now!” *Sob*

    Renshaw slowly turned his head and looked at Armin with a puppy eye filled with tears.

    ”Cyre.. That's it”. Renshaw's mood changed radically into spirited individual full of passion. ”We're going to Cyre men!! Cyre has the best damn rum in the whole world.. and we're gonna grab it as much as we can!!”

    Olben walked out of the kitchen right after Renshaw's announcement. The crew was jumping around merrily, all thanks to Renshaw's unshakable detemination and firm decisions. Olben on the other hand sighed. This plan of Renshaw's was more ridiculous than a clown in a funeral. He stomped his foot on the ground in order to get everyone's attention and shouted:

    ”Ya stupid butterfaces! How the hell are you gonna get inside Cyre?”

    That's when Spade's eyes lit up.. the party costumes he had been making for a while would be the perfect disguises. He rushed off under the deck and soon came back, holding two bright yellow duck costumes in his hands. Spade's face was beaming, he was confident of this plan. The rest of the crew, counting out Buck & Benz who still had no idea what was going on, glared at Spade with contempt. The others did not question when and how Spade had learned how to knit but instead.. after a long silence, Armin punched Spade right in the noggin' and only seconds later Renshaw's fist crashed into Spade's scalp. Spade lost consciousness almost immediately. Olben spoke again after a brief silence.

    ”You could use the.. honorary guest.. in order to get inside”

    ”Eh? You mean Hiro? Hrrmm..” Renshaw said before falling into a deep thought.
    ”The blind fella? How's he supposed to be of any help?” Armin asked confused.
    ”Gah! Do I have to do all the damn thinking here?! First off disguise yourself to look like a regular traveler, then take Hiro with you and pretend you're just normal travelers. Hiro isn't a pirate so his face definitely ain't all over the wanted posters, unlike the rest of us. By keeping yourself in the rear and Hiro in the front, people pay less attention to you and more to Hiro. You gotta keep yer face concealed all the time. Got all that?”
    ”WAIT! WHAT THE HELL WHY CAN'T I JO- Ummph!!” Armin shouted out but Renshaw slammed his hand on Armin's mouth.
    ”Sounds like a plan to me”. Renshaw grinned and let out another hearty laugh.

    Renshaw immediately descended into the cargo hold where Hiro's ”quarters” were. Hiro was there, quietly sitting in his cell. He looked like he was deep in his throughts. Renshaw walked over to Hiro's cell and spoke:

    ”Havin' a blastin' mornin' there?” Before Hiro could possibly answer, Renshaw continued: ”Har har! Now time to get up! I'm going on a road trip to Cyre and you're coming with me! We're gonna get ourselves some of the world's finest rum.. consider yerself lucky! Gya-haha!”

    With that Renshaw kicked the cell door open and waited for Hiro to get out.

    (( Sheesh! What is up with all this "kicking doors open" stuff? ))
    Last edited by farag0n; 03-05-2011 at 02:45 PM.
    Calm down people, it's just me.

  17. #17
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    The forest was singing.

    Wulfhelm trudged his way through the thick, wily undergrowth of the forests near Cyre. He had got himself into a very, very bloody fine mess. He was not exhausted himself – no, it took much more than a mere fight gone wrong to make him tired. The giant was just merely sluggish, which was clear in the way he angrily and clumsily batted aside a three-foot, lush sapling that was standing in his path. He was like a bulldozer, simply choosing to charge through the forest and carve a path out for himself, rather than go to the effort of moving around it.

    But he had a good reason for this. His entire body didn't feel as if it was reacting properly, the muscles burning and twitching in spasm as they refused to work as they should as a fever began to sear and bubble underneath his skin, spreading like a painful wildfire that caused his stomach to lurch. There was an arrow lodged in his shoulder. Not deep, no. The layer upon layer of muscle protected him from that. It was barely even a pinprick to the half-giant, no. Instead, it was the poison that was spreading itself around his system.

    He would of yanked the arrow out ages ago, but it was barbed, and had clung itself painfully into his body. He could take it out easily, of course, but he would have to stop. And he really, really could not afford that at the moment.

    It was years after Wulfhelm had been exiled from the Wolf-clan, and whilst the grief still burnt powerfully within his heart, it had become clear to him that he was exiled for good: The Kal'kalak did not take such things lightly, especially when prophecies were involved. And so, he pushed on. Unhappy, yet always keeping a hearty grin and a song in his heart – as was the wolf-clan way – he sought work in Cyre as a mercenary.

    At first, the half-giant had found himself hard-pressed to find a group. People were suspicious about the Kal'kalak and their ways, and they had reason to be. Wulfhelm had hardly been subtle about his origins, and had regularly put ignorant humans through their paces in the taverns when they named him a 'savage.'

    Regardless, his brawn didn't go un-noticed for long, and eventually he had become part of a group known as the “Fifty-Six Blades”. It was not clean work: no, they sent many-a-people to their deaths. However, compared to some of the other mercenary groups they were saints, and if one member was unwilling to do a contract, they would just send one of their more merciless killers instead. They were even many-a-time employed by the Ico family to route out bandits, although it was more then likely some of the mercenaries would be working for them next week.

    Eventually, after years of service, he left. It was not like it wasn't a good line of work, no. He just simply didn't feel fulfilled by it. So he became a wanderer, still picking up the odd contract now and then to keep gold in his pocket, he roamed the world. Learned the forests. And, although he had become rather infamous within the “Fifty-Six Blades”, and propelled it to almost celebrity status within Cyre, he wanted to see the world.

    For within his years in the Wolf-Clan, he had always wanted to explore, to roam. Almost every sunset, he would climb up a secluded hill and allow his eyes to stretch over the golden, glittering horizon, taking in the great, booming landscape that triggered such powerful wanderlust within his soul.

    And so he roamed. But his journey eventually took him back to Cyre, as an empty gold purse and desire for a rest had summoned him back to that grand citadel.

    Though that is not why he is now storming through the forest, battering aside saplings and sending the wildlife scattering in a tangled frenzy of plant and beast. No, it was clear that, now he was back in Cyre, someone wanted him very, very dead.

    Dead enough to plant a poisoned arrow in his shoulder, and dead enough to keep pursing him through the forest.

    He came to a green enclave – the amber scenery making him stop in his tracks for but a moment. He raised a hand up to his face – fingers stopping the dazzling shafts of sunlight from impairing his vision. Though he was incredibly world-weary, that had not stopped him from appreciating the beauty that the forests brought. The way the golden rays of light danced subtly against the fraying, microcosm forests of grass. The way that animals – much more humble than the beasts of the mountains – seemed to be practically everywhere. There were even tiny ones, things that he was barely able to see with his eye. This fascinated Wulfhelm, for they had no such things in the mountain.

    The mountain. Wulfhelm thought mournfully as he breathed in, taking in the sharp, earthly smell of the forest around him. How I long for it's cold, biting air upon my skin once more. How I long to hear the howling of wolves and the clatter of goats hooves...

    An arrow thudded next to his heel, disturbing Wulfhelm's thoughts.

    Don't think about that now, run!


    And run he did, powering deeper into the forest, sending sprays of dew from the morning before showering behind him as he almost collided with an oak tree. He felt arrows whizzing past him, but despite being lumbering and drugged by the arrow, there was one advantage to being so tall:

    Wulfhelm had a very, very long stride. And before no time he was starting to outpace his assassins, leaving them to follow the trail of trampled undergrowth that the half-giant left behind, along with the giant, sunken in footsteps that his boots left imprinted within the ground beneath his feet. He knew he could cover his tracks up better than this, he knew he could traverse the forest better than this. But at the moment, he really didn't have time.

    They're driving me away from Cyre, as well
    . The titan thought bitterly as he shunted aside – and uprooted a small tree that was standing unfortunately in his way. Clever bastards, I need somewhere to hide and recuperate.

    He raised his eyes ahead as he noticed a large, winding hill ahead. Wulfhelm had amazing stamina that would put most people to shame, but with the toll of the poison on his system and the strained effort of keeping his legs beneath him, his lungs were beginning to burn. His eyes followed the path that he now found himself on, the irises clambering up the hill, to a large, emboldened clearing – and above that, he saw a tower. A giant, glorious tower that rose from the landscape as if in cruel testament to mankind's triumph over nature.

    It'll do. Just hope they welcome guests. He thought bitterly, letting out a large, barbarian yell of effort as he powered his legs up the steep slope that the forest had now transformed itself into, barely summoning enough air into his lungs to yell over his shoulder:

    “SEE IF YOU CAN FOLLOW ME FURTHER, YOU FOOLS! THE MOUNTAIN-BREAKER SHALL SEE YOUR ENTRAILS STREWN BEFORE THE NIGHT'S END!”


    With new, furious determination, the giant continued onwards, upwards, leaving earth-shaking strides in his wake, to the tower of the Oathkeepers.
    Last edited by kain222; 03-05-2011 at 07:31 PM.

  18. #18
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    It had been a few hours after midday and the sun started to get low, nearing the horizon in an inescapable speed as if it was planning to hit it at full force. It had been a quite nice quiet morning in which there hadn’t been much wind or any other hindrances that might have slowed down the cart that was steadily making its way over the main road to Cyre. It was pulled by a brown horse and on the front sat a sturdy looking dwarf. His brown-grayish beard wobbled up and down with every move that the horse made. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, as if trying to see further than any dwarf, human or elf was able to see. On his lap rested an old and worn looking cider and the dwarf was carelessly plucking strings with no real intentions to play a song or ballade. Just tone after tone after tone without any rhythm or melody. The sound echoed over the empty road, fading into nothingness. The world was silent.

    “I tell you, I almost have it. Just give me back my flute and let me play it. I know this is good, I can feel it in the deepest part of my soul. The sounds just came to me like a storm is on you in an empty field. It just was there without any warning. If I let it slip now a masterpiece might be lost!”

    A dissonant tone came from the front of the cart as a snare that was plucked hit the one next to it. The dwarf’s eyebrow twitched slightly as two Blood elves, which had been walking quite far back the cart, came closer. The dwarf, whose name was Ser, Ser the Bard as he preferred to call himself, appreciated silence, though of course he loved the sound of his own music. His own music was good, not too loud, just good for this time of the day in which one should sit quiet and wait for the evening. Evening was the time for waking up, grabbing some ale and most of all time for work.

    “And I tell you, you’ve been trying this for an hour now and still you don’t have any more than what, five notes? If the Gods had truly awakened your musical talent an hour ago, you would have written something one minute later. So conclusion the Gods haven’t favored you. “

    “And I tell you they have granted me this. If. You. Would. Just. Give. Me. Back. My. Fl-“

    “Quiet you two or I’ll personally make you!” A sudden snap came from the front of the cart. Ser huffed, pulled his clothes straight and leaned back. “Youth these days. No respect."

    The two Blood elves behind the car shot glances to each other, before one shrugged and handed over a flute, which was nicely carved out of light brown wood with lines curving around it, starting on the top. “Thank you, Essar.” The receiver said with a lot of drama in his voice. “But I fear that now that I have dwindled so long, the Gods might have left me. All because of your incompetence, not realizing you were holding back a great piece of music. Watch out, Essar, for the Gods might curse you one day.”

    At the back of the cart the white piece of cloak that withholds anyone from looking inside was pulled away. Sea-green eyes peered outside. “Psst Mikai,” the blood elf stopped in the middle of his flamboyant speech and sighed when he saw the index finger before the young woman’s mouth. “Is it that time again?” The young woman nodded. “He’s pretty far. I haven’t heard a string for five minutes now.” The woman threw the two elves a cocky smile. “Well you know how he is. He’ll come around when we arrive at the next town.” With that she pulled the cloth back, leaving the two elves outside. They looked to each other and then at the same time they shrugged before walking on quietly.

    -----

    This was how it always went in the little group counting six people, and a horse not to forget. A group of bards they were, traveling the lands, making money by doing what they loved most: playing music. Next to the sturdy dwarf, who played the cider so well that some said he was in love with it, and the two elves there was Yurem, the human who played accordion, and Guiada. Actually nobody was sure what species she actually was, but she was the type that was just meant to be a mother although she never that the pleasure of having kids. Essar was actually not an elf, but an Esper who appeared as a blood elf and he had taken in the position of drummer within the group. They had been together for quite some time before Kaori joined, but now after seven years they had formed a family. A family Kaori had always missed.

    The group was on their way to Cyre, the main city of Heoden, for their yearly money making. Every year the group would return there to make lots of money that would be the base of their income that year. With the money they could start traveling again to faraway lands and distant kingdoms to sell their music to everyone who wanted to hear it, and who had something to pay. Cyre was their base, the place where they returned when their year was over.

    Today they halted in a small village just before Cyre though. They would not make it to the city without having to travel at night, which was something the group did rather not. Fighting with other things than words was not standard in their repertoire and besides the small village had a good inn which provided work and a good night sleep.

    “Ser! Old chap, how are you? I haven’t seen you for aaaggeess. Where have you been?” The innkeeper greeted them after the cart had halted before a not too shabby looking inn and Mikai had knocked on the door since Ser was too lazy himself to come down and do it. “Come inside. It is always nice to have some music by dinner. I take it you are still playing, are you not?” The innkeeper blabbered on to much dismay of Ser who rather had a less talkative person in front of him. He shot a glance to Kaori who just jumped out of the cart. “Take Omuno away.”

    Mikai made a triumphing face to Kaori who responded to that by holding her hand up and pressing her fingers against her dumb, creating a mouth with her fingers. She opened and closed it rapidly, pointed then to the excited innkeeper and grinned before turning away to the horse. Omuno was as much a part of their family as the other members of the group. Without him… Kaori didn’t even want to think about all the walking they would have to do.

    As she led the horse away to his stand and started brushing it. In the silence she hummed a soft melody. The tones vibrated through the empty stable, making the melody sound more hollow than it was. Omuno twitched his ears and let out a content sigh. Kaori smiled slightly and petted him just behind his ears. “Have a good night sleep, okay?” She whispered to the horse. “Tomorrow we are going to Cyre. Time to make some good money so that we can go out again. Out to the sea perhaps. Can you see it? Endless waves, a never-ending motion of blue, a blue sky above it, but a different color blue. The sea is different every moment, never the same.” She stared to the wooden wall of the stable as she continued petting Omuno, who didn’t mind this at all. He just loved being petted and didn’t really care for the talking.

    “Kaori?” Essar appeared in the door opening. “You’re finished? The room is full, people drink, and people eat. There is just one thing that misses…”

    “Music.”

    And with that the two left the stable. Omuno snorted and turned away from the door to inspect his food. After all he was easy content and didn’t have to bother with the problems that dwelled within a human’s mind and happily he started chewing.


    A man said to the universe:
    "Sir I exist."
    "However," replied the universe,
    "this hasn't created in me
    a sense of obligation."

  19. #19
    Still learning the ropes Reputation: 10
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    Vonur woke up; something had jabbed at his stomach. He immediate reached for his weapon, but it was gone, along with his armour. Instead he found his hand clinching a boot.

    Nobri: “Get up! By the order of the dwarven council we are here to take you back to the Iron Citadel, to serve your sentence in prison.”

    The boot, that Vonur’s hand was on, kicked. It hit him in the ribs; a soaring pain went through Vonur’s chest. He curled up in pain. An arm reached down and grabbed Vonur by the shoulder; it hauled him to his feet, where he stood still clutching his chest. He looked up for a second, in front of him stood three dwarves, wearing royal armour. One of them was holding his armour and weapon, one with his mace resting in his hands, slowly beating his hand, and the other, the one that had got him up, was unsheathing his war axe.

    Nobri: “Now, we were told to bring you alive if we could. But it seems like you have put up a fight, so we will have to execute you…right here, right now.”

    The guy holding Vonur’s armour stepped forwards, handing him his equipment. Vonur looked at him questioningly.

    Flit: “We are not honourless, like you, we fight with honour. To do so, you must be armed.”

    Vonur didn’t say a word; he just took the armour and put it on. It was tailor made for him, by him, so he was the only one who could wear it. It was light, and it was strong, it had no downsides, only if the wearer was not skilled would it be just like any other armour. But Vonur was skilled; he had trained everyday since he made it. Vonur then reached out to receive his weapon from the dwarf. This weapon was also handcrafted by Vonur himself.

    Vonur: “I am Ready”

    He said quietly to the group. The dwarf wielding the mace stepped forwards first, and the other two moved aside to watch the fight. Vonur raised his axe into a combat position.

    Donkar: “My name is Donkar, and I will be the only one you fight today."

    With that, Donkar lunged forwards, mace raised for an attack. Vonur sidestepped to his right, and while doing so he switched to twin axe. Donkar wasn’t expecting such speed, and his attack missed as he stumbled to the ground. Donkar rolled over to find Vonur standing over him, one axe resting above his head, ready to swing, and the other was held in Donkar’s armpit, the most exposed area of his armour.

    Vonur: “Don’t move, or I will cut this artery, and you will die.”

    He twitched his axe under Donkar’s arm to indicate where he was going to cut. Donkar didn’t move.

    Vonur: “Good. Now leave and let one of the other two attempt to beat me.”

    Vonur relaxed his stance slightly. As soon as he had done so he felt a blow to the back of his knees. He legs gave way and he fell to the ground. Flit had attacked him from behind, using the hit of one of his dual axes. Donkar got to his feet, his face red with anger.

    Nobri: “Donkar, leave it. He beat you. It’s Flit’s turn.”

    Donkar shot Nobri an evil look. Nobri’s eyes were steady, nearly undead looking. Donkar settled down, and moved to stand with him.

    Flit stood with his axes ready, waiting for Vonur to get to his feet again. As soon as Vonur was standing, Flit moved for an attack, both axes swinging towards him. Vonur was able to block, just. He raised his own axes in an ‘X’ and blocked the attack. The two dwarves struggled together for a time, trying to force the others axes down so they could get a hit in, but their strengths were a perfect match for each other. Eventually they both jumped back. Vonur wasn’t willing to let that happen again, so as soon as he had grip under his feet, he lunged for another attack. This time he got an angle on Flits weapons that gave him the advantage. Being able to push both axes down, revealing an opening. Vonur took it, and buried his left axe deep in Flit’s bicep. With a scream of pain Flit dropped his right axe. Vonur kicked the weapon far out of reach of the dwarf, and stepped back from him, ripping his own axe from the arm. The blood gushing from his arm Flit stopped.

    Flit: “You win, this fight it over.”

    He dropped his other axe and gripped his arm trying to slow the blood flow. He walked over towards the other two, where he got some bandages and rapped his wound.

    Nobri: “Okay, you are better than we expected. I really didn’t expect it to go this far”

    He took a step forward, war axe ready. Vonur turned to face him.

    Vonur: “You brought this on yourselves. You say you fight with honour, yet you force me to fight you, and are willing to go back to Iron Citadel and lie to the council, saying I resisted you. You don’t fight with honour, you have no honour…none.”

    Nobri: “You little…you no nothing of honour, you are scum, and I will rid the land of you”

    Nobri lifted his war axe over one shoulder and charged towards Vonur, a rage in his face, similar to that of a wild beast. Vonur knew that all tactics were now out of Nobri’s mind, he was on a rampage. ‘Honourless fool’ thought Vonur. The attack came with a almost magically formed gust of wind, with the axe swinging down towards Vonur. Vonur dodged forwards, ducking under the blow, and stopping behind Nobri, whose axe was now stuck deep in the earth. Nobri was struggling with it, trying to get it free to defend against what he knew was coming; Vonur. But it never came. Vonur waited for him to get his weapon free.

    Vonur: “I can’t fight an unarmed opponent.”

    This made Nobri even madder. He gripped the axe and yanked it free with one pull, turned to face Vonur, and side swiped his massive weapon. Vonur switched to Siamese mode, and stuck the ground in front of him. The mighty slam created a shock wave that disorientated Nobri, as well as the shock of when Nobri’s attack slamming hard into Vonur’s, creating an intense stinging sensation in Nobir’s arms. Vonur let go of his axe, leaving it in the ground, like a shovel, and shoulder barged Nobri as hard as he could. Nobri took the blow hard, hands ripped from his axe, and sending him sliding across the ground. Vonur walked back to his weapon and pulled it out of the ground. He glanced at Nobri lying on the ground, and then sheathed the weapon.

    Nobri: “Come on!! Finish me”

    Vonur: “To kill someone…or even attack them while they are down, and weaponless, is to kill my honour along with them.”

    Vonur turned to face the other dwarves. They didn’t move, not even to help their commander.

    Nobri: “Coward!”

    But Vonur didn’t react; he just left the clearing, after packing his bedroll, heading towards the city he had seen the night before. He hoped, that now that he showed the council that he wasn’t going to go back to the citadel just to be put in prison, that they wouldn’t send anymore dwarves after him…hoped that he was now free, no ties to the misguided dwarves he once called his people…hoped to, some day, return true honour to the dwarven race.
    RPing, i'm not really sure neil...

    *week later*

    I am Karosath, the almighty destroyer of the royal family MWAHAHAHAHAHA

    *next day*

    NEIL: so gecko hows the RPing
    ME:who is this gecko??? Adress me only as Karosath, the almighty, u peasent

  20. #20
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    Default A startling discovery.

    Water. The universal substance that purifies the soul and reveals the honest truth. A substance so clear and pure that it chooses to express itself in a colourless, translucent form, reflecting mirror images of oneself in something as simple as a puddle, to remind them of the person they are. A solvent so simple, and so quick to be misunderstood, that if taken lightly, can bring about an unexpected revelation.

    -

    The true tale of Ego Draconis does not start with an exile in Brimmingshire, with mysterious fortunes of prophecies guiding his path, no. Ego Draconis begins with a man narrowly avoiding death, and plunging into the depths of the unknown, crawling through all manners of bile and emerging with nothing but his life vaguely intact. This man, unknown to you, and unknown to himself, finds himself in a scorching, vacant village, only recently was it evacuated. This man finds himself staring into the eyes of the bleak abyss itself, which openly stares back at him in return, inviting him to taste the cold malice of death upon his stiff, confident lips.

    ???: “The last time you were encountered, a Jygathorn, was nigh on 107 years ago...just as the last of your kind were being...exterminated.”

    The man cleared the blood from his lips with the sleeve of his torn shirt, which revealed a fatal chest wound, which had seemingly torn deep, deep to the point where he couldn't feel the pain anymore, because the nerves were ripped alongside it. His chest was glistening with blood, profusely bleeding to the point that if the man did not receive medical intervention soon, he would die.

    ???: “You are an unnatural perversion of this world. You are merely a relic of a former disgusting race, desperately clinging onto the last grain of your existence. You are nothing but scum. The moment you wreaked havoc in this isolated village, was the very moment your life will be scratched from existence.”

    The Jygathorn, roughly standing at 11 feet tall, were bred by Orcs during the first Orcish conflicts in an attempt to overrun mass populated cities which belonged to the kingdom of Heoden. They were the ultimate predator, capable of tearing human flesh apart at ease, feasting upon their remains as part of an elixir which only served to make them even more powerful. This particular Jygathorn drank from all of this villages blood, making it one of the most powerful elite Jygathorn to be witnessed to this day and age. This most particular thing about Jygathorns however was that, like wine, with age they were better. The more blood that the Jygathorn drank over the years, lay dormant in this creature's blood, awaiting for the moment that it would need to unleash all it's power, which would be now.

    Jygathorn: "What mask do you wear to hide your fear? You are merely a peasant hiding behind confident words. I AM A JYGATHORN. The very bane of your existence. I killed more of your race than you could have killed mine, ten times over. You are a man on the verge of death, that blood, coursing through your veins, I will feast upon it's sweetened flavour. I WILL eat your SOUL!!!!

    The Jygathorn snarled it's jaws closed, growling as it got onto all fours, like a great white wolf, eager for the kill. Confident in it's abilities, the Jygathorn leapt several metres into the air, spiralling, displaying an athletic capability of agile manoeuvres, gracefully zoning in on the mysterious man's position.

    The man quickly rolled out of the way, clutching a nearby sword from a fallen villager, and turned to face the monster. His eyes glistened with tears as he inhaled all of the death surrounding him. Butchered families, noble guards and innocent children lay lifeless on the cold, bitter ground. Clutching the heavy sword in his left hand, the man quickly moved towards the monster, striking quick successive blows against the beast, which all had seemed to land perfectly, causing the Jygathorn to stumble backwards, snarling as white blood poured from it's new freshly cut orifices.

    The Jygathorn winced in the pain that it was now feeling, snarling and grimacing it's fangs, in a rage of anger. Tearing at the ground with it's claws, the Jygathorn dashed towards it's attacker, tearing all that stood in it's way apart, corpses, fallen rock and other parts of rubble. The man quickly shifted the weight distribution on his feet, quickly rolling to the right, taking cover behind a house which was still burning. The thick charcoal taste of ash entered into his lungs, causing him to cough as he continued to sprint out of harms way, and to break sight from the monsters vision.

    Jygathorn: “There is no use in hiding, you worthless sack of piss! I will kill you, it is only a matter of time. You cannot kill me! For the thing that could only kill a Jygathorn vanished a century ago, just as the last Jygathorn was hunted to extinction!”.

    A small smile rest upon the beasts face as it finally caught sight of the man who was taking cover behind a tree, clutching his wound tightly in an effort to stop the bleeding momentarily. The man was hurt badly, just like the monster, and it was only a matter of time before they would both bleed out.

    Jygathorn: “I've had enough toying with you. You will die. NOW!!!”

    The beast growled at the dark sky, something was happening. The beast was beginning to change. It's coat of fur would become black, it's eyes would turn a crimson red, and its fangs and claws would appear to be much longer and sharper than their former selves. This was the change that all Jygathorns go through after releasing blood into their circulatory systems. The thing that made them unstoppable killing machines. The beast now was in a rage of ecstasy, out for this one man's particular blood.

    The beast growled in anger and charged at great speed towards the man's position, bashing through the walls of a home and through a number of trees before reaching his position and hurling him a few metres forward, crashing into a tree which halted his projected path. The man shouted in pain, yelling vulgar words towards the beast. Blood began to form on the man's forehead, and began to slowly trickle into his eyes, blinding him.

    The man slowly fell from the tree, falling into a heap on the ground, choking back hoarse panics of breath. The beast then slowly walked towards his position, scraping it's claws together and snorting out disgusting insults and boisterous laughter.

    Parts of bark fell onto the man from the tree that had been severely damaged upon impact. He slowly tried to get to his feet but he found that he had no use over his legs anymore, and not only that, he could also not see out of his eyes. It looked as if luck had ran out for this man, but it didn't.

    The overhanging clouds grew heavy with precipitation and began to hurl down thick waves of rain to the planes below. Through the opening of the trees and onto the man's face splashed cold, refreshing drops of rain which began to clear the blood from his face. As his eyes began to clear, he found that the sword that he had been using had been lost in the undergrowth, leaving him defenceless against the monster.

    The beast was now standing over the defenceless man, roughly picking him up by the scruff of the neck and pinning him against the damaged tree.

    Jygathorn: “When I told you that you couldn't kill me, I wasn't lying, how come you deny the inevitability of your death?!”

    The man spat blood into the beasts face, which only had the effect of making it more angry. The Jygathorn proceeded to stick one of it's claws into the man's wound making him scream in intense agony to the point where his voice began to crackle, and his voice could no longer be heard. The only sounds the man could make were forced strains of breath exerting from his now non-existent voice.

    The Jygathorn responded with an evil chuckle and threw him backwards back into the village, making him slide and tumble harshly across the rough terrain. The man choked on blood as he gripped his chest once more. He slowly crawled towards a nearby guard who was clutching a spear which had seem to have been glistening in blood. He gripped the spear and turned towards the Jygathorn who was only now exiting the tree line. The man aimed for the beast as it got on all fours to sprint...and then...he threw the pole arm. The Jygathorn yelped in pain as the spear pierced the beasts shoulders causing it to tumble over itself at intense speed, performing several damaging rolls and skids across the hard surface of the gritty ground.

    The man attempted to get to his feet, using the nearby wall of a caved in home for support. There was another spear which the man used to support him like a crutch as he slowly stumbled towards the monster that created all this destruction. The Jygathorn laughed and spit white blood in the man's face.

    Jygathorn: “Even if you tear off my head or impale me on a spike, I will keep coming back to kill you, I cannot die. The only person that could kill me vanished, like I said, 100 years ago, you have no hope in Nazgral of killing me!”

    The man smiled as he replied.

    ???: “I too wasn't lying when I said your fate was decided when you destroyed this village, for I am he, your bane of existence, awakened to end your misery of a life.”

    The monster choked back a laugh as he ridiculed the man.

    Jygathorn: “Impossible. That man left the kingdom of Heoden entirely, towards the south, where the gods were rumoured to have gone, and where no person has ventured.”

    The man dropped to his knees on top of the Jygathorn. He clasped his two hands together and looked up to the dark skies. The moon was shining dim beams of warming light down onto him as he focused on it, praying aloud as if he were communing with the Gods.

    ???: “May you find peace in the afterlife, or forever burn in the scorching fires of Nazgral!”

    A beam of light entered the man's hand, as if he captured the benevolent beams of light cast by the moon. He lowered his head and looked down on the Jygathorn who now wore a puzzled expression upon it's face. He opened his hands and looked at them. They were glowing with archaic symbols and pictures which represented the power which he had just captured. He then slowly pressed his hands against the beast's face, who was now screaming in agony, as the skin burned from it's face.

    ???:Ar'la Muak Dan. (Moonlight Impale.) ”

    The man leapt backwards as the beast appeared to be impaled by nothing, lifting it a few metres in the air as it screamed in agony. The man provided a few body movements and hand signals as if he war casting a spell from the spear, his stave and the beast was raised even higher, impaled by yet another spike of nothing.

    There was a sudden thud and then the beast fell back to the floor. Lifeless. The man gripped the spear closely as he appeared to be exhibiting intense signs of pain. He began to scream aloud as it appeared his head was showing intense signs of mind trickery by an unknown force. He fell to the ground, landing face first into a puddle, and then it stopped. A sudden sharp pain came and disappeared, as strange as it may sound. He shut his eyes as he winced from the sudden outburst of pain.

    Several minutes passed before he attempted to reopen his eyes again. Exerting and grunting loudly, he instantly pressed his right hand against his wound. It was then that he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the pool of water underneath him as a drop of his own blood disturbed the puddle.

    ???:
    “...Who am I?”

    The man lifted his head slightly to see the destruction that had been created earlier by the beast. The village's flames now extinguished by the rain, only leaving traces of smoke and hissing sounds as the embers of wood were slowly dying.

    He looked once more into the reflection of his face, running his fingers along the contour lines of his face and his almost alien features, the most distinguishable of which being his long, perfect elven ears, and his dazzling pure blue eyes. He then noticed his skin colour, it was nothing like any other elves tone which are native to Heoden. It shared the hue of a tyrian purple.

    ???: “...What am I?!”

    It would seem that on this dark night, the true events of Ego Draconis would begin to reveal itself, with the first prophecy that would be unmasked, unknown to even the exile himself. The person that would set the gears of fate in motion. The return of the pure elf.
    Last edited by Anglo; 03-06-2011 at 02:41 PM.

    Revenge Solves Everything.

  21. #21
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    Default

    Wulfhelm kept moving forward, always forward. His legs were nearly giving way under his slumbering, stumbling body, tired eyes lidding over as he approached the entrance of the tower. The poison was taking it's toll, and he could feel it's venomous bite spreading both pain and atrophy throughout his limbs, casting them under a spell of both sleep and arthritic reluctance.

    He found himself at the foot of the towering structure, panting out ragged gasps of air as he stared at it's entrance: A massive, oaken door. Even to Wulfhelm, who was a half-giant himself, it impressed him. Twice his size, (which was quite a feat), it sat there boldly. The large, iron rings hung from the wall and gleamed a bright, boastful silver. Engraved with the angry faces of fearsome lions within, they gave the appearance of challenging and defying anyone to enter.

    Dumbstruck, the half-giant stood there, eyes fluttering up to the massive tower that seemingly had appeared to suddenly plant himself in front of him whilst he was focused on movement: Unremarkable when his attention was not focused on it, it was only when he stared upwards did he realise how magnificent it was: A complete titan of stone and incredible masonry work, it sat there, bearing down upon the Half-giant. Just for once, the Titan understood what it felt like to be small. This was no simple watch-tower, no. This belonged to a guild – a guild of fighters.

    It was only then that it occurred to the Half-giant that he had seen this tower before – though only under a different guise – it was in the exact same position he had always seen it, but never did he see such a magnificent structure like this one, no. This building had a concealing spell over it, making it appear like an unassuming, long-abandoned guard post.

    He turned on his heel, narrowing his tired eyes to the spires of Cyre in the horizon, a faint smile of affection spreading across his lips as he gazed upon the massive, sprawling city in it's splendor, watching as how it even stretched to the horizon and beyond, curling around the world – it seemed ridiculous: Almost as if the stone to make it had simply been planted there, leaving mankind to pick up the pieces. He closed his eyes for a moment, and he swore he could hear the bustling streets. The cries of the traders. The smell of cooking bread and salted, drying meats wafting into his nostrils which sent his mouth watering and his stomach fiercely a-growling.

    Though, it's nothing compared to a clan meet. Wulfhelm thought, with just an edge of bitterness. Suddenly, he snapped himself out of it, spitting on the floor to clear his head. The poison was making him drowsy and casting him into daydreams. He had to get to a place of safety where he could get that arrow out! It was burning now into his shoulder. He wanted nothing more than to pull it from his skin, and scratch the burning, poisoned wound until it swelled and shredded – better agonizing pain than this powerful, venomous itch.

    Once more turning on his foot, he faced the large, oaken door defiantly, moving forward to run a hand over it's smooth, polished surface. He grasped one of the iron rings firmly in one hand, and knocked, the sound resonating with a metallic clang that shock-waved through the forest, spreading from tree to tree, startling a flock of ravens and sending them hurtling in a squabbling, black frenzy towards the sky.

    Wulfhelm risked a swift look over his shoulder – out of the forest that surrounded the hill, far, far in the distance, he could see figures approaching. Shrouded in obsidian-black hoods, they emerged from the trees like dark, shambling specters. Perfectly in step, perfectly in time. Wulfhelm was not a tactical fighter, but he knew that these men were not to be trifled with.

    There was still no answer.

    “Sorry to take down yer pretty door, fellahs.” Murmured Wulfhelm, his voice being carried off by the sunset's breeze. He took a few calm steps back, shaking with the effort of summoning what little remained of his strength, he closed his eyes, allowing his world to be eclipsed in darkness, shutting out every noise one by one. The sound of the forest life, and even the dangerous, foreboding sound of his assassins' distant footsteps.

    He focused on anger. Rage. That spark of fire within him, that barbarous, powerful hate that sent his blood boiling and his skin crawling with tempered malice – he felt it now. Renewed vigor. Some deep, buried away savage instinct that sharpened everything. Sounds were coming back to him now as he focused, sharper than ever, like a complete, cataclysmic tidal wave - frothing at the brink with contempt fury.

    Though, the forest animals and that gentle, caressing breeze had both stopped. The entire forest seemed silent, as if in fear of what was about to happen.

    Wulfhelm opened his eyes, and everything went red.

    “RRRRRRRRRAAAAGHHHHH!”

    A thunderclap! Or at least, that's what it sounded like. The entire ground shook, and every bird, every creature was sent running, coating the skies with panicked wing flaps and the forest floor with furry darts. The entire tower seemed to shift, both stone and wood creaking under it's weight, as the glass windows shattered one by one. Wulfhelm's world had become splinters and anger, and the pandemonium of iron wrenching and stone crumbling as the locked door tore COMPLETELY off it's hinges and was utterly SHATTERED nearly burst his eardrums – not that he would of noticed in his berserk state. What wasn't small, wooden chunks had turned into tiny, oaken needles which shot off in all directions, coating the floor with a coarse sawdust.

    The footsteps behind him quickened, snapping Wulfhelm from his rage with the aspect of danger. As the anger died down, the tiredness came back, so much stronger than before, as he barely dragged his legs across the ruined hall – which had been completely torn to shreds by debris. Some of the surrounding bricks had come out of the wall all together, and were lying against the mess, which was illuminated by the last rays of the evening sun, which filtered in through the shattered window to the far end of the corridor.

    And, at that far end, a glowing gate stood, beckoning Wulfhelm forward with the promise of freedom. Though the half-giant knew nothing of magic, nor was quite intelligent enough to make use of it regardless, he knew what these were: He had seen them before, on a contract where he was tasked to take down a cult of necromantic wizards who were terrorizing local villages. They had many of these littered around their hideout.

    No time to think. Wulfhelm reminded himself as he remembered that sickening, disorienting feeling of going through such spells. Just run. You don't have any time.

    And so run he did. He heard his assassins catching up with him, felt their footsteps rise onto the stone floor of the hallway and clatter against it with deadly speed. He felt the cold, professional malice in their breaths and, just out of the corner of his ear, heard the soft click of a bolt being loaded into a crossbow with the care of a predator who knows that he's caught his prey.

    Wulfhelm flung himself forward.

    What happened next was sickening. Wulfhelm hated magic with a passion - not people who used it, mind, but experiencing it – for this very reason. And more than he hated being blasted with elemental spells, or having a speaking hex placed on him after a bar-fight, he HATED teleporting.

    His entire world stretched out before him as he closed his eyes, trying to shield himself against the horrible, forward and back rocking motion that made bile rise in his throat, stinging the back of it with it's vile, acrid singe. There was a sharp, blindingly white glow around him which only further rocketed his nausea – not even closing his eyes helped against the overpowering illumination. He felt every piece of his being being torn to shreds by the portal – to be re-assembled elsewhere. Abruptly, his world suddenly became swimming darkness.

    Though he was not unconscious, and he began to come to. He felt the reassuring, carpeted floor beneath him. The smell of dust clouded his nostrils, and a small, relieved smile curled up his stubble-coated jaw as he realized he was still in one piece. Slowly getting up to swaying feet that refused to obey him, he felt an agonizing pain as his entire shoulder lit up with fire – no, it was not his flesh that burned. And there was no red-hot flame dancing on his skin. That arrow, that infernal, bastard arrow!

    Safety could wait – he reached a hand up to his shoulder, and yanked it out. Letting out a startled, angry, indignant cry of pain as he felt the barbs tear through the swelled flesh, his eyes watering from the pain as he gritted his teeth so hard he could of sworn that he ground them down until there was nothing left but sore, bleeding gums. Tossing the arrow in front of his feet, he let out a bestial, rumbling growl of fury as he raised an armored boot, and then brought it down. Sending a nearby jug crashing to it's floor from an unsafe, badly balanced perch on a table, shattering into dozens of tiny, crystallizing pieces.

    His eyes sharpened as he stared at what flowed out of it: Mead, amber, frothing liquid which soaked pointedly into the carpet. Ever so slowly, he began to realize his surroundings.

    He was standing in a mess hall – it seemed strange, an odd mixture of militarized furniture – simple, wooden long-tables with discarded bowls and spoons of honeyed porridge, various cheeses, seasoned and flavored meats covered in spices that stung his nose. Uncomfortable looking benches were lain in rows beside them.

    Regardless, it had beautiful finishes; Like the gold-threaded crimson carpet beneath his feet that kicked up dust any time he shifted his boots, the scarlet not so dissimilar in shade to his blood, which was dripping from the arrow at his feet and blending in stainless. A disturbing thought occurred to Wulfhelm, perhaps the carpet wasn't that color to begin with.

    What he then realized next nearly made him retch.

    There were dozens upon dozens of people around the mess hall, frozen like slumbering statues. Though, they didn't have the contented, peaceful mask of sleep that most had. No. There faces were twisted, contorted. From the look of their eyes, they seemed like those which, in life, would have been misted over with both hate and cold contempt for all around them. Yet, their body language in their last moments did nothing to match this description. Most of their mouths were open in listless, agonized screams, blood dripping, black, venomous, from their jaws, staining their lips a discolored, poisoned red. Their skins were pale and mottled with red patches, cuts and puss-filled warts appearing everywhere like corrupted soils on their bodies.

    They littered the entire hall – some slumped over at the tables, hands frozen in a desperate clawing at the back of their neck. Others seemed to of rolled backwards and fell onto the floor, a horrid freeze-frame of the throws of a painful death, hands, talon-like, scrabbling at their faces, their fingernails caked with blood and halfway through tearing flesh. There was no doubt about it, the corpses were stone-cold. Lifeless. It was an absolute, poisoned massacre.

    “What in the name of the wolf-spirit happened here?” Wulfhelm murmured, breaking the stunned silence. Then it occurred to him – his assassins' should of caught up with him by now: Unless they were-

    A horrifying scream from the floor below reached Wulfhelm's image. Panicked yells, the drawing of weapons, the hacking of flesh and the splattering of blood mixed into some kind of gory symphony, ending with a short, cut-off shriek as a deadly, knife-sharp silence ensued. Wulfhelm turned around slowly, hearing nothing but his own breath. Everything was magnified now, and in the tension, he could even hear his own eyelids shut, as he closed his eyes to try and compose himself, to try and make sense of the situation he was in.

    A wrathful, bloodied battle-cry sounded from behind him.

    Too late.

    ((Another post! I could of continued but it would of just ended up being ridiculously long. ))

  22. #22
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    Default Headed for Cyre!

    Tori, Gama, and Ryoku were on the road in the square; the place where all Blood Elves hang out. This time, though, no one was there. Except for three blood elves who were up to no good. The reason no one was there was because it was the day for the shipment of food and supplies to come in.
    Since their dad hadn't bought groceries in over three weeks, Tori figured she'd do a little shopping. For free. The giant cart filled with food was in the middle of the square. No one was at it. They were over by the shops, which were more like stands with cloths, umbrellas, or a combination of both to keep the sun away.
    Tori had her robe's hood up, and Gama and Ryoku were wearing hats that hid their faces. On Tori's signal, after the people commanding the cart had all moved to a shop farther away, the three made a mad dash for the cart. They all had little baskets that were abandonded on the road, and they were stuffing them full with noodles, apples, lemons, chicken, everything they figured that they would need for food. When the people who unloaded the items fro the cart started to come back with their notepads filled with lists, Tori, Gama, and Ryoku ran for the shadows, away from their eyes. In a few moments, they would realize that they lost food, and would start to search all around the square. That meant that Tori, Gama, and Ryoku couldn't stop running. But, when Gama started to fall behind, and tripped, Tori grabbed his basket, and gave Ryoku the basket. She pushed Ryoku along, back towards the house, his little feet running like crazy. Tori put her basket on the floor, helped Gama up, and gave him her basket.
    "Vel shas sai si cyri. Vos iar eilia thyr Ryoku pyr, please.(Run back to the house. Pick up any food Ryoku drops, please.)"
    Gama nodded, grabbing Tori's basket of food, running after Ryoku.
    While Gama was still running, almost catching up to Ryoku, the three people who unloaded the food appeared, with two guards. The unloaders all had confused looks, and only one had a sword. The guards were calm, each with a sword in both hands. Tori knew she couldn't fight all five blood elves at once, but she drew both of her daggers anyway. When the guards realized she was armed, they backed up. The unloaders backed up with them too, getting their bearings together. Before they could do anything, though, Tori quickly put one dagger back, and opened her side pouch that was strapped to her belt, under her robe. She pulled out her throwing knives, and threw three of them. Each hit their marks; two of the unloaders legs, the one holding the swords' arm. Since the guards were caught off guard by the sudden attack, Tori turned and ran, running out of sight. She knew for a fact that those blood elf guards could beat her to a pulp. She heard their footsteps, gaining on her. Tori knew that if she didn't hide soon, they would find her, and kill her for sure.
    The second Tori saw a rope hanging down from a wall in an alleyway, she turned and leaped for the rope. She got a good hold onto it, and when her feet collided with the wall, she climbed it as fast as possible. Being a blood elf, she couldn't climb it very well or quick, but adrenaline was her friend. She climbed the rope all the way to the top, but the guards saw her at the end of her climb. She plopped onto the ground, pulling the rope up so the guards couldn't follow her. Tori dared to look over the edge, and saw that the guard were scowling at Tori's escape. They were cursing each other out, blaming it on the other.
    "Cym tyr o, o dumb*ss! O jhaer caes kaer eirdae! (How could you, you dumb*ss! Yu let her get away!)"
    "Shar eisi o salol eirdyr? Air'm eir os thar! O eisi si tystalaes, eiraes eir. (What are you talking about? It's all your fault! You are the commander, after all.)
    Tori lay on her back, panting from her intense escape. But, she knew she would have to get back up and go back to the house. So, she rolled over onto her stomach, placing her palms on the floor. She pushed herself up, and stood up. She walked around the roof of whatever building she was on. She could still hear the guards fighting below.
    Tori walked around on the overgrown roof. It was overun with vines and moss, and there was some grass growing, too. When she looked closer, Tori could see that a few of the vines on the bottom of the small jungle were actually thorns. Tori picked her way carefully around the roof, and found a better kept building in a leaping distance away. She took a running leap and had a few feet to spare from her jump. Luckily, this building had a door to the roof, so Tori opened the door and pushed an elevator button, since it seemed to be the only thing she could do. After a few minutes, an elevator opened, and two people, who looked to be a couple, walked out. Tori quickly stepped in, and pushed the button that said "1". The elevator stopped at level "5", first, and three blood elves stepped in. One of them pushed the number "7", while another pushed the "3". The other hanged back, seeing that the "1" button was already pushed. The elevator stopped at level three, and the blood elf got on. One other elf came on too, and sat back on his heels, waiting for the elevator to reach level one. Tori and two blood elves got off. There were three ways she could take; left, right, or forward to the double doors that led to the outside. While the other two elves took opposite sides of the hallways, Tori continued forward to the double doors. She pushed one open, and headed into the outdoors.
    The sky was dark, so Tori knew it was past dinner time. But, to Tori's surprise, there were two plastic containers filled with food next to the fire place. Tori knew that Sakana had cooked food, so Tori picked up the container filled with less food, and scarfed it down.
    Lost in thought, Tori realized how it will be another month until the cart comes back. They need to buy groceries every week, though, so Tori made her decision: She would steal a bunch of money from other people, steal a horse, and ride to Cyre to buy two months worth of groceries.
    Tori ran to Sakana's room, and told her what she was going to do. Sakana stared at the wall for a few seconds after Tori told her everything, then finally said, "Shaesi pyr par caer cor tyli? (Where does dad keep his money?)"
    Tori smiled, liking how Sakana thought. She didn't want Tori to steal too much money from people, so she was going to take all their money, then steal a little bit of money.
    "Ai jhoji cyrn o sol. Ai'jh saji eir os tyli. (I like how you think. I'll take all our money.) Sakana's eyes widened.
    "Byre eir os air! Jhaeli ei jhori shor thys iar, eir jhaer!(Not all of it! Leave a little bit, at least!)
    Tori smiled, and walked into her dad's bedroom. She opened a broken safe, taking five silver coins, eighteen gold coins, and a single gold coin. That left two gold coins, three silver coins, and two copper coins.
    Tori turned and walked out of the bedroom, into the living room, and out of the house. She quietly sneaked alongside the road, hidden by the shadows. Up ahead, Tori saw the horse stable. Looking both ways and putting her hood up, Tori ran as fast as she could to the horse stable. When she knew she made it to the stable safely, Tori crept inside. A black horse with a white crest on it's forehead whinnied as Tori climbed onto it's saddle. She grabbed the reigns and kicked the horse. It bolted forward, trying to fight against Tori. She leaned forward, holding the reigns while her hands were wrapped around it's neck. It was a difficult task, but Tori got the horse to be okay with her as the rode into Farglow. Many people saw them, and some tried to stop them. Tori just made the horse get faster and faster, until they were at a full gallop. The horse, Midnight, rode out of Farglow, headed in the direction of Cyre...
    "Shawn, what the hell do poker chips smell like?"
    "Butterflies."
    _______________
    "Shawn, do you have your license?"
    "Do you mean my pilots license? Or my license to kill, which has been revoked. I would go into details, but then I would have to kill you, which I can't do because my license to kill has been revoked."
    "I was talking about your detective license..."

    ^^ Two awesome scenes from a T.V. show called Psych.
    _______________

  23. #23
    Manic's Maniacal Machine Reputation: 37
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    Blue leaned forward in anticipation. He had no leads…nothing. A small part of him wanted to give up, but the happy face of Tesa kept reappearing. No, he wouldn’t give up, never.

    “Well, we don’t know where she is…but we might know someone who does.” Blue faded alittle bit, but any information was pivotal.

    “Ever hear of the mage called Esbin?” Soril asked. Blue grabbed a drink that the tavern owner left them and took a sip.

    “Ya, the one that is called the Time Mage. Supposedly he can see into the future.” Blue stopped for a second to take a breath. “Only problem is, no one knows where to find him.” Soril smiled.

    “What if I told you he had a great grandson?”


    ~~Meanwhile~~

    Rau sat at his desk scribbling on another law that was trying to get pasted. He sighed making a big X on it, while tossing it onto his desk. He leaned back and started to massage his temples. He hadn’t slept in days with all the commotion taking place. As he started to doze off, a soldier ran into the room.

    “Sir, more messengers from Cyr have arrived. They claim for a meeting with you.” Rau waved his hand.

    “Tell them to shove it. I have no time for their petty proposals or complaints.” The soldier stood there as if waiting for Rau to change his mind. Rau looked up from his desk annoyed. “Um… that is all.” The soldier put his fist to his chest and left the room.

    Rau got up from his chair and opened the door. He peered out and noticed no one was present except for a guard at the end of the hallway. Rau silently opened the door, and closed it behind him. He walked down the hallway a few feet till he got to one of the many rooms in the castle. This room contained beautiful designed wooden double doors. Rau silently opened the door and walked inside. The room was majestic, with expensive furniture and paintings everywhere. In the middle was a bed, with a woman laying inside. She was older and appeared to be half awake.

    “What is it Rau?” Rau approached the bed, grabbing a chair along the way. He placed it next to the bed, and sat down in it, rubbing his temples again.

    “No… nothing. Just a lot of work to be done and I seem to be running out of time. Don’t know how your husband did it.”

    Krystal gave a small laugh. “He always loved the challenge. How goes my daughter.”

    Rau looked up staring into the eyes of Krystal saddened and worn. “She is safe as I promised. I have my best men with her at the location we discussed.” Krystal laid he head back on the pillow.

    “Stupid prophecy. All because of Fray decided he had to see Esbin.” Rau sadly nodded his head. “We decided to agree with him though. It is all our faults.” Rau got up and walked to window. He looked out the window. Krystal was the one to speak up again.

    “How about that boy Blue…what is happening with him.” Rau didn’t move from his spot. He kept still, staring out unto the garden. ”I…sent Enos after him.” Krystal made a surprised sound leaning forward off her bed.

    “You promised you won’t kill him! This will severely affect Tesa if you do! And if you do I’ll…” but Krystal started to cough really hard, spasm like. Rau rushed over and caught her and laid her back now.

    “Please Krystal, don’t get up until your better. I commanded Enos to take him alive, and to only use measures if Blue poses a severe threat… and as we all know, one of the strongest fighters in Heoden isn’t going to lose or be threatened.” Krystal turned her head from him looking the other way.

    “You know this was the only measure to stop him from interfering. The prophecy foretold this! Great dangers are in this land, and unless we take measures against the Ico Dynasty, we will all die. Esbin told us this.”

    “Esbin didn’t tell us anything, you and Fray took it... took it into your own hands instead of letting it play out!”

    “We would all die if it played out! This is why we choose to march against the Ico Dynasty! This is why we risk our men’s lives! I will tell the men soon. We will secretly attack Cyre and stop this prophecy!” Rau moved towards the door, to return back to his office.


    ~~Back at the Tavern~~

    Blue tapped his finger against the table. “Do you mean grandson?” Soril shook his head. “Remember Esbin is like 150. Some say he found the spell for immortality. I personally don’t know.”

    “So how did you find his great grandson?”

    Soril looked towards the 4th member of the party who hasn’t said anything. Laura looked up red in the face.

    “Yu…the grandson…kinda has a thing for me and he owes me after I got him out of some big trouble a few years back. As repayment….I asked for him to help you.” She didn’t stare Blue in the eyes, constantly blushing and looking away.

    “I don’t see how you found out though, how..” Blue stopped mid sentence. Blue smiled (one of those teasing kind) and leaned forward putting his face closer to hers. She started to blush heavily. “Ohhh I see, so THAT’S what you did for him.” If her face wasn’t bright red before, it turned cherry red now. “OH NO! NEVER! It was when our team was on a mission…” Everyone started to burst out laughing. It was nice to lighten the mood up abit. Blue leaned back on his chair.

    “Ok so I gotta meet this Yu. Where is he?” Laura’s brother spoke up this time. “He is located in Cyre.”

    Blue shrugged his shoulders. “Well that plan is out the door. I won’t be able to get through the gate.” Arsul smiled.

    “Ahh so I guess who haven’t heard of our…gang… in Cyre?” Blue raised his hands confused. “As you know, we pledge our loyalty to you, as our general. Well it wasn’t only us. A lot of Legion 5 has pledged loyalty. We stationed a group of us in Cyre, to act the part of a gang, but more to find information regarding anything to do with Rau. We named them Genesis. A few soldiers you personally know are in it. They will help you enter the city. Meet them at the North gate, 3 days from today, at around this time. You will know its them.”

    Arsul looked towards the others and nodded. They all started to get up. “We have to go. We are meeting some resistance members in a nearby town. Good luck to you my friend and general.” They all put their fists to their chests and left the tavern. Blue decided it was time to hit the sack, as he would be leaving early that morning.
    Last edited by *sky; 03-06-2011 at 06:50 AM.

  24. #24
    Norrin Radd's Nerd Rage Reputation: 29
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    Talking I finally posted! :D You all stole all the good colors. :(

    Hiro blinked. Once. Twice. Each time confirmed that he was finally awake, and what he saw now wasn't a dream. How could it be? As he slept, images materialized before him, obscure in appearance, but visible none the less. Then, when Hiro awoke, all light ceased to exist, and only the sensation of touch truly dictated reality. Or was it? It was becoming harder to tell now.

    Sighing to himself, he could almost feel the chilling puff of fog forming in the air, lingering as proof of the frigid temperature. That was a another sign that he was awake, for there was no temperature in dreams. Actually, the thought of escaping the stifling air that harshened his breathing and coldened his hands didn't seem like a bad idea, especially if he could see her again: Cerelis. It was brief, and most of what he remembered were fragmented, but Hiro knew his sister had contacted him, that she was still safe. If only he could remember! Squeezing his eyes shut, Hiro pressed his thumbs to his temples, the rest of his fingers messaging his forehead. Gradually, snipets of Cerelis invading his dreams returned to him...

    ******Speculum Viator - Mirrage Messenger******

    Obsidian paint poured like acid in every direction, yet breaches of flaming circles weaved in and around them. Together they formed a pattern familiar to Hiro, often seen when he had troubled slumbers. Realizing he was putting too much pressure on his eyes, he relaxed them a bit. That's when he heard a cheerful giggling resounding from somewhere behind him. Instantly, he thought of turning around, but didn't know how. He couldn't rotate his head. Everything that he was experiencing now was in his mind. Feeling helpless, Hiro continued listening, waiting for something or someone to appear amidst the darkness. That's when he felt it: a hand had somehow touched him. Shocked, he jumped back a bit, discovering he could move. It was working!

    "Hi-roveus, thart...'ear m-i...spa-ke? Yew...us-t...ha-..i......'o...Cyre!"

    There was a distortion, from the way Cerelis spoke to how she looked when he gazed upon her. Her hair, which had been seeped with as much darkness as his own hair, was faded and held shades of pink highlights every now and then. Judging from the way it tumbled to her shoulders in uneven layers, it was the target of misuse. Some of the strands were frayed, whereas others seemed to have grown where hair had been ripped from her scalp. Although her damaged locks could be seen relatively clearly, her face was a blur. Certainly, he could make out the one brown and one silver iris that mirrored his own, but her skin was different, as if proof that she wasn't truly there. It glowed with an euphoric light that concealed the scars beneath it, keeping them a secret from her brother. Even her attitude was misleading, her words haunting him, but Hiro could barely make out a calm smile on her face. She didn't want him to worry.

    "Cerelis! You mustn't allow a wretch'd soul as that which resides within Richelieu to consume you! Our hope shines not with words, not with acts, but within quintessence. Free yourself from damnation, and wait for me. Dare not dally in his keep--"

    He held his breath. Cerelis had strolled over to him as he tried his best to warn her, to no avail. After all, if she could escape, she would have done it long ago. Richelieu kept her as his captive, not just as a physical slave, but bound her mind. Perhaps that was why his memories of her contacting him always seemed fractured? Even now, a grainy texture like that of noise in a picture was increasing relentlessly, trying to overwhelm the moment entirely. Fustration must have revealed itself upon Hiro's face, for Cerelis's hands firmly clutched his own. There was no warmth, not even a hint that she was touching him, yet his eyes did not forsake him here. Or did they?

    "Cerelis, you are hiding? Or does he covet you from me entirely?"

    Suddenly, for only a second or so, bulky chains that obviously weighed a ton tangled like tenacious snakes around Cerelis. The scars that had concealed themselves brandished themselves across Cerelis's sickly, pale skin, as if the purplish blue whelps and gashes of intense red sucked all the color away from it. What he had thought to be plush, vividly pink lips became the hue of one who had been poisoned, though he couldn't be sure if this was true. Oddly, despite all the torment exposed on her body, Cerelis retained a refine beauty that couldn't be extinguished. She was literally a princess who was treated as a slave, or maybe worse! Richelieu mocked him by slaughtering his whole family, save Cerelis. Just what was he planning to do?

    "He has weakened you to no more than a specter. Forgive me..."

    "...N-t...ew-r...f-...a-...lt! P-le...s-...da......t....gi....-p! T-o...C-...e......'o Cyre, ...nd......e o-ne...av......all...Y.....a-e...bl-e...s'd......g-o...H...ro....."


    ******Nepture's Raider - Cell ******

    Somewhere along the lines of recollecting his memories with Cerelis, Hiro had dozed off yet again. No, it was more like being in a daze, his eyes having been slightly open the whole time, aside from his occasional blinking. Raising himself from the slight lean to his right he had positioned himself in, he regained his composure just as footsteps echoed nearby.

    Without a doubt, those boisterous, confident strides belong to none other than Captain Renshaw. For a pirate, the conditions he received were compassionate, considering he could have left him stranded at sea. Of course, there was the nagging fear that they (the captain and his crew) would turn on him, subjecting him to any method of cruelty for entertainment. The possibility of that happening wasn't slim, for his fate rested on the unstable supply of rum. Judging from the ruckus he heard above moments before he heard the footsteps, this may have been the case.

    Immediately after the footsteps stopped, a voice rung through the small space, directed at Hiro. He was right: the captain himself was before him. Renshaw greeted him with a question, one that wasn't expected to be answered. Not that Hiro was planning to do so. He spent enough time to know when to speak and when not to.

    Listening attentively, he was surprised that the next destination would be the one he despirately needed to head to. Was he some kind of mind reader? No, it was in fact due to a lack in rum. Where did they get the money to buy rum anyway, especially "the world's finest rum"? Hiro didn't know, nor did he particularly cared. What mattered was that their goals overlapped, and that the consequences of pirates becoming sober didn't endanger his life...yet.

    While he contemplated all that could happen to him once he got to Cyre, a loud crash erupted from where the entrance -- or rather, exit -- to his cell was. Apparently, he was allowed to leave his cell, but just where were they? He could still feel the quaky steering of the ship, so much so that when he attempted to stand, he wobbled a bit. He would have fallen backwards had it not been for his basic knowledge of the cell's structure, which allowed him to grip ahold of the door.

    Timing his moves accurately, Hiro managed to briskly follow Renshaw, only to realize he didn't know much about the layout of the rest of the ship. As soon as he asked to board, giving a small account of his past, he was lead downwards, giving him no chance to familiarize himself with his new environment. Hoping to stall his clumsy fate on the upper level, Hiro decided to ask more about the trip to Cyre.

    "...How should we precede upon entering Cyre? Forgive me, but would you not and your companions risk captivity for your...duties at sea? Have you not any plan?"
    Last edited by lokuri; 05-11-2011 at 02:15 AM.

    Nurarihyon no Mago!
    Quote:
    Inpa: "...I got your mask already, look! Isn't it pretty?”
    Balthazar: ”Urgh.. !! It's pink..”
    Inpa: ”Oh please, it's called being metrosexual!..."
    -- farag0n; Tales of Amn

  25. #25
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    Dunk Dunk. Dunk Dunk.

    The noise woke up Laec at an instant, he practically jumped out from bed, somebody knocking usually meant two things. Either somebody politely wanted to make their presence felt, wanting you to open of your own accord. The second that they politely made their presence known before kicking the door in.
    “Open up Laec, I know you’re in there” the demanding voice of miss Lugenharts entered through the door and in to his eardrums. Or it was miss Lugenhart.

    Let’s see, he had paid his rent, he hadn’t broken anything and Greg hadn’t insulted her as far as he knew.
    At that moment the small knife called Greg that he carried in his belt woke up, there was no physical sign but there was a certain feeling of wakedness about Greg whenever he was active. That and the following dialogue was a certain hint.

    “Be quiet you old hag, either send in somebody armed for us to fight or go away to whatever hole you crawled up from!”

    Ok scratch Greg not having insulted her, the silence practically oozed from the door, the feeling of I am very angry and therefore very quiet to make you aware of exactly how angry I am. Suddenly he really wanted to escape from another exit than the door. Then again the room was not very generous in escapes.

    It took just one casually cast eye in one direction to take it all in. It was more of a cubbyhole than an actual room. There was just enough room for one bed in the corner, a very, very small desk and a chair where his old frayed coat lay, most consisting of a faded black but with the occasional patches of colors in it, red, green, white, brown, anything really he could get his hands on to patch up the holes with. There was a window but it was no more than a slit in the wall which let in some sunlight. No chance for him to squeeze through there. Throwing out Greg would probably improve his situation but wishful thinking would get him nowhere unfortunately. He was as bound to Greg as he was to his arm.

    “Laec, Greg. Both of you come out right this instant or I make you regret it".


    Sighing he put on the coat and slowly opened the door behind which stood an old lady, her skin wrinkled and hair bleached of age but despite this stood proud as if her inn was the very palace of Cyra itself. Her manners was the sort that said I merely let you stay in my presence because of my infinite grace that only queens and cats possessed.

    “That’s better. Greg if you ever take that tone with me again and I will make Laec to cook and hack the rest of the meals for the month to pay his rent”

    “Anything but that! No more vegetables, no more pork, I can’t stand a single second of being forced to slice and hack them again! Told you we should have sliced her”
    he added in what he probably thought was a subtle, quiet voice and might very well have succeeded if he had any idea about what subtle meant, despite his efforts Greg never seemed to grasp the concept.

    "Not helping Greg” Laec could almost feel how this inn also slipped between his fingers, he been thrown out of more than one because of his companion.

    “Let me get this straight, you two, the two of you have discussed whether to kill me or not?”

    “Ehm, I would like you to see it as us having discussed not to kill you”
    “That’s alright then. There’s a man seeking you downstairs. Personally I would never have let him in but he said it’s important, he only wears black you know. Only thieves, murderers and people who got things to hide wear those colors, not the kind of people I let in”
    “Ehm” Laec began as he swiped his eyes downwards and up over the entirety of Ms Lugenharts, dressed from top to toe in black. “You’re only wearing black as well”
    Staring straight into his eyes with her own cold blue ones until it felt like his eyes begun to frost and he averted them she said icily, with icicles punctuating every letter “your point being?”
    “Nothing at all” Laec answered hurriedly “I just get down and see who wanted to meet me then” he said as he hurried down the stairs, creaking with every steep.

    Down there, leaning casually against the doorframe stood the man she had talked about. Just as she had said he was entirely dressed in black, from the boots and upwards, it wasn’t the savvy elegant black of the rich but the dirty and faded black of the poor.
    “You’re Laec?”
    “Yes, can I help you?” Laec replied, praying in reverse in his mind. Nobody had needed a curse removed in ages and honestly he wouldn’t even be able to afford food soon but then again he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be involved with this man, he had the nagging feeling that miss Lugenharts description of people wearing black wasn’t completely inaccurate.

    “You wanted to see a book from Mr Leydens personal collection. I been told to bring you to it, as long you perform a service for Mr Leyden”

    Leyden, one of the more refined criminal lords. And he wanted a service. Somehow that single word made him very worried. From his knowledge anybody powerful enough to send somebody else to talk to you would never need a service performed that would be easy.
    “Not involving anything sharp surely”? One could always hope.
    “Oh please let there be something sharp and dangerous! I beg of you, you wouldn’t believe how useless this sorry excuse of a hero is. No matter what I do he runs, and while he got the speed of the charging right and would be great if he only could charge in the right direction. At the pace we’re going I can’t even say we’re going nowhere, we’re going backwards!”
    The man didn’t bat an eyelid, as if an unknown voice coming from a man’s waist was something that happened daily.
    “I was told there would be sharp objects involved, if you don’t come”
    A threat, somehow Laec was a bit relieved. No need to hesitate with threats involved, he knew where he was with them, usually far away.
    Well we’re not going and that’s final” Greg said defiantly.
    “Please don’t listen to him. I come, hate to be involved with anything sharp, much offense meant Greg, what does Mr. Leyden he want me for?”
    Striding towards him the man looked around, as if fearing anybody to hear them before he whispered “Mr. Leyden needs a curse removed, if you succeed he will allow you to study the book to your hearts contents”
    And if I fail?" he had an horribly feeling of where this was going.

    And if you fail” the man first now allowed a small smile to show on his face “you die”
    Last edited by Befram; 03-10-2011 at 08:55 PM.

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