Journey Into the North

Hunter wrote:I dunno where Grif got "city person" from Trident's Druid...thats just silly.

But yeah...he would be neutral, actually....nature is neutral, as should someone who is more attuned to nature than society be.

Trident has altered his profile since that post. I like this one much better.

A post will follow.

I wasn't just sticking on neutral. I have no clue what those terms mean in this sense. Yeah, this is definitely the first time I've done this before, so some terminology may be just way over my head.

I was actually going to be a bad guy the first time I wrote something, but then I had to change it.

The City of Valiant was in full decoration. Banners fluttered on the tops of turrets on the Castle. Heroes from all corners of the realm had heard the call, and the Citizens of Valiant had turned out in mass to celebrate the heroes.

They gathered inside the castle walls, inside the grand plaza. The heroes were there. The crowd was kept out by the City Guard, who in turn were honored to be in their presence.

Bards lined the streets, singing stories of these heroes, only a few of which were true.

A shadow appeared on the Plaza as Alden flew over it. The crowds began to cheer wildly as he came in for landing. The gryphon touched down inside the perimeter. He wore his flight webbing, under which he had all his gear. His feathers were painted green, with brown splotches where paint wasn't present. The camouflage looked out of place in the white city, but Alden didn't work in cities.

The crowds loved him for that.

Attached to his webbing was something new, a jewel which seemed to glow. It was a bright white at the moment, it would stand out in a room full of majesty.

Or your Majesties he thought quietly. The others didn't look happy about being surrounded by a contingent of guards, but Alden was grateful.

A rider came through the crowd. Alden couldn't make out what the rider said, but he didn't need too: the guards began to move towards the Court, and the heroes took the hint.

The Guard continued forward until they got to the doors, the crowd still surrounding them. The doors opened, and the Heroes moved inside.

Inside, they were met by a Weapons-master.

"My lords, the King and his subjects are honored by your presence."

"No kidding," one of the others said, loud enough to be heard, but not quite loud enough to indicate any one person.

"Regardless; we can not let you go before His Majesty so armed," the Weapon-master said.

The heroes hesitated, before disarming. Alden turned in his fighting claws as the others turned in swords, knives, and other weapons.

"Hero Alden, His Majesty, on learning on your intent to visit, commissioned a pair of shoes to be constructed so that you may tread on his floors, without scratching them with your talons. He would be most disappointed if you appeared before him without them," a court official said.

"I wouldn't want to displease His Majesty," Alden said. Servants came with the shoes, they were sandals really, and began strapping them on.

Well, that was clever. Now my talons are useless as weapons, which is probably how they want me anyways. Alden shrugged, he didn't want to kill the King anyway.

The servants finished and Alden walked around.

At least they're comfortable...

"They're unarmed," the Weapon-master said, the other heroes had only finished disarming. Inside the throne room, a voice came out.

"Your Majesty, the mighty heroes have come, those that your grace has summoned."

"Let them enter," the King answered. There was another snort from inside the group of heroes, probably the same wise guy.

The doors opened and the heroes entered.

The floors were indeed marvelous, made from all colors of marble. The nobles and court members were dressed with many jewels. Alden wasn't sure how any of them could be standing. They came to the center and bowed.

"Your Majesty may I present these heroes." When the King nodded, he began.

"Your Majesty, I present to you, Alden Novoir: Savior of Concordia, Hero of the realm, he that vanquished the marauders of the Western Territories..."

Alden stopped paying attention. He stepped forward, extended his wings and then bowed. Alden rose once the Court Announcer continued to the next hero.

Henry was uncomfortable. He had fidgeted all the way toward the doors, longing to be amongst the crowd rather then isolated in this small band of mismatched heroes. Standing near to a Gryphon was strange enough. The men around him were mostly dressed in clean, decorated mail armour or luxurious cloaks. Henry had slapped own his usual dirtied attire from the countryside. He was well aware he looked completely out of place, and diverted his discomfort by nibbling his nails.

The guards weren't exactly helping. The ones that had taken his weapons were the worst of all; he had felt like firing his crossbow into the neck of the first one, but knew there was a time and a place and it was too late to back out now. The lure of gold had been too much for him to ignore. He didn't want to see some other amateur city thief beat him to the prizes, so he put himself forward. That's when he realised he looked more like a peasant next to these grand, tall men who all ignored one another. And then there was the large, camouflaged gryphon which he immediately distrusted. He had never met or conversed with a magical creature, and didn't want to start.

However, the shining jewel on his webbing had caught Henry's eyes.

The room was glimmering and overdone. Henry wondered what havoc he could cause here if he were set free. The emeralds and rubies and diamonds that adorned the noble's clothes, and the marbled floors that held golden vases and historical paintings. All worth a fortune.

He was caught up studying all the priceless goods littered around the borders of the room when the announcer presented the Gryphon to the King.

The announcer continued.

"Your Majesty, I present to you, Henry Leander Preston: a well-known rogue who will doubtless use his skills against our enemies, rather than our friends." Henry flicked his head toward the King and realised his strong eyes were burning down on him. He felt small and insignificant. The implication of the Announcer was too obvious to ignore, and Henry felt like the King's men would throw him in shackles if he didn't tow the line.

I en't following them's orders thought Henry, but he smiled uncomfortably nonetheless and smartly stepped forward, bowed and moved back as fast as possible, waiting for the next hero to be announced.

Valin Norovir
"Ugh, why do we have to have all this bloody pomp and circumstance?" I thought to myself, trudging along flanked on one side by a "Kings' Own" Roayl body guard, on the other another hero. I had planned on just blending into the crowd, using the time during this ceremony bullshit to nick what I please from unsuspecting crowd-goers. After all, I needed it more than they would. But unfortunately, I was exposed in the middle of the crowd by Sir-Pole-Up-His-Nethers, the leader of the guards. It was all I could do from cutting him down where he stood. Now I just plodded along, with my cloak on with the hood over my head so that it would cover my face. I chuckled at the songs the bards sang, especially the ones about me, as well, most of them were nowhere near the truth. And the poetry wasn't even good. Nothing like true, real Elven poetry. No this barbarian travesty was barely passable as sound, as far as I was concerned.
Suddenly, there appeared a Griffon among us, to the crowds great cheer. I respected the Griffin, as it is a remnant of the long-lost ancient days before the hairy ones stood upright, when the Eldar race ruled this realm together with the magical beasts. Oh, it would be good to have a fellow classical creature along on this journey.
When we finally reached the gate of the palace, the weapons-master demanded us to disarm ourselves. I looked at him a long while, incredulous, as an assassin, I would sooner castrate myself then willingly remove my weapons, but since I saw the others all do the same and it would've been very unwise to kill the weapons-master in teh broadlight of day, I did as I was asked.
First, I removed my longsword. Then my two shorter swords. Then my daggers from my boot, and finally by bow. I left my poisons and a few poisoned shuriken I nicked off a guy in a bar last night concealed in my cloak. When we were finally allowed entry into the throne-room, the King was so pompous I scoffed. Loudly.
We were finally paraded around like chattel at a market, and I was in the middle of the line-up.
"Your Majesty, may I present to you Valin Norovir, of Tor Arcana, rightful Heir to the Elven Throne, currently wasting his long life as a wandering assassin, sell-sword, jack-of-all-trades, brigand, rogue, and drunkard. Hopefully his many 'talents' will enable him to rise back up to the standards his station demands" His voice was thick with disgust, and I wouldve cut his throat right there, but I was vastly outnumbered, and he wasn't worth it.
I stepped forward, unveiled myself, but unlike the others, did not bow.
"Master Elf, why do you insult me with your lack of proprietry?" the King asked me.
"Your Grace, I bow for no one" I responded, coldly.

Name: Cyrus Stoutheart

Gender: Male

Race: Dwarven

Age: 80

Parents: Lord and Lady of The Cavern

Birthplace: Deep in the bowels of the Jagged Mountains.

Occupation: Blacksmith, wanderer and warrior.

Special Skills: Making of enchanted arms and armour; weapons that dont rust and are forever sharp being an example. Has prodigious strength, far more so then any ordinary human. Earth sense; just more well attuned to his surroundings then most.

Description: stout, but heavily muscled around the arms, chest and shoulder area. Has a mane of brown hair twisted into many braids, piercing light blue eyes and a well kept beard. Nondescript travelling clothes, trousers and sleeveless leather vest. For formal occassions will wear richly embroidered black cloack trimmed in silver around the edges.

Preferred weapons: Doubleheaded axe and or warhammer. Is equally handy with his fists.

Personality: Straightforward and honest. Not one for pointless formalities, likes to get straight to the point. Is wary of strangers and is very defensive, so quick to anger of his percieved "shortfalls". Is humorous though and likes to settle things with a beer/mead/alcohol of any sort. Is a notorious womaniser and pipe smoker.

Short background: Unlike most dwarves, who never leave the mountains, he is a wanderer, travelling from place to place. He is an experienced warrior and axeman, having fought in many skirmishes and battles. He, like others, has heard of the king's proclamation and travels now to join those who will explore the wilds.

*Just a reminder Sab, this storybook is rated PG-13, and BS is on the strong side.*

The room had become very cold and quiet.

The guards had shifted from an ornamental position to a defensive position. The guards were professionals, trained to sacrifice their lives for the life of their King.

Alden wished he had his claws back, it would make things so much easier. He had to do something, or the elf would most certainly get killed. If Alden knew anything about elves, it was that they never died alone. This one looked tougher than the elves he knew. Fortunately, he didn't have to do anything.

"Then you are a fool, Valin Norovir." A quiet voice rumbled. Alden turned to see that the Templar had said this. Valin appeared to blanche, he saw the guards and something Alden hadn't noticed before, the archers in the arrow slits.

"My apologies Your Grace, the last time I bowed before a King, he betrayed me. I don't wish to repeat any part of that experience," Valin said.

This time, the King blanched. An advisor came up to his side and whispered into his ear. There was a hushed silence as the King listened to his advisor. Finally, he spoke.

"Your remark, Heir of the Elves, reflects well on the caution of the Elves as a whole. I hope you will not confuse me for my relatives six generations before," the King said finally. He nodded to the Announcer to continue. The guards relaxed and Valin stepped back.

Cyrus felt distinctly ill at ease, among all these tall strapping humans, especially the elf. He noticed too, that his size had not gone unnoticed judging by the snickers and smirks of some of these self proclaimed "heroes". He snorted. These fools wont last an hour in the Wilds, he thought contemptuously, watching the ridiculous farce of a ceremony continue. Still, he couldn't help but admire the artistry of some of the precious metals that gleamed around and through the hall.

Cyrus looked closer at the group he was among, noticing one shady fellow as uncomfortable as he. An ally, perhaps? He wondered, smiling at the anger of some of the guards who would so obviously rather clap the man in irons then honour him. Definitely an ally. Following the rogue was the elf, a rather surprising addition Cyrus thought. What was the Heir to the Elven throne doing here, in this company, in such obvious risk? Regardless of this anomaly, he obviously had not lost his kinds distaste of humans, which begged the question: Why was he here? Indeed, it almost seemed as if a fight might erupt at the elf's rudeness, but the matter smoothed over before anything happened. He almost felt disappointed, it would've been good to see some of these boys in action.

He came back to himself as he heard the announcer turn to him.

"Your Majesty, may I present to you. Cyrus Stoutheart, son of the Lord and Lady of the Caverns, blacksmith and sometime mercenary. His skills with an axe are well known and he will be a welcome addition to the party." The announcer paused, looking for the dwarf. "Come forward, sir."

Cyrus huffed in dismay, stuck as he was behind some pretentious twig. Growling, he knocked him out of the way with a burly fist, sending a ripple through the group. He bowled his way forward, till he emerged, black cloak swirling, before the king.

"Right, so, here I am." He said, somewhat more angrily then intended as he heard the titter of laughter from the nobles.

"O-ho!" said the king, amusement lighting his eyes, along with a familiar condescension. "And what brings you here, Master Dwarf?"

Cyrus stared, angry, "I'd've thought that glaringly obvious, Your Majesty." He said mockingly, "Or is this a tea party I've stumbled upon?"

The king narrowed his eyes, reappraising the dwarf. "Have I offended you Master Dwarf? If I have, then with such thin skin, perhaps a tea party might be more appropriate." At this, there was outright laughter from those watching, obviously enjoying the exchange.

Cyrus wanted to be angry, but found an unwilling smile dawning on his face. "Aye, you might be right at that, sir. Perhaps another time we might drink a few cups." He said, laughing deeply. He bowed and rejoined the group, already feeling better then before.

*Done with DQ's Permission and welcome to the team Jiggity!*

"Your Majesty, may I present Sirlo- Seerlo-"

"Sirloaz Tranleen," Sirloaz said quietly. He stepped forward, bowed, and stepped back quickly.

My first thought upon entering the king's hall was Heroes indeed. Glory hounds, each and every one of them.

The room was filled with them; dozens of humans filled the room, while Valin, to my surprise, and a lone dwarf were introduced from them. I did not expect my name to be called; I was in the city long before these fools had come stomping into town.

"Master Elf, why do you insult me with your lack of propriety?" the King asked Valin. I knew at that instant that Valin's personality had not changed.

"Your Grace, I bow for no one" He replied coldly. The room fell deadly silent. The tension in the air between the guards and Valin was almost...tangible.

"Then you are a fool, Valin Norovir." I spoke without thinking, an act I considered rare at best.

I stood off to the side of the parade, away from those whose mere presence would cause my vision to spin with their chaotic aura.

Valin shifted his gaze to glare at he who had spoken against him. When his eyes settled on me, he did not react. It had been close to three decades since we last met, and I knew there was a possibility he would not recognize me. While Valin had not aged a day since I last saw him, I was not so fortunate. The years had been good to me, much better than they are to humans, but still....I was not the same man I once was.

I kept my expression neutral. This was no the place to invite a battle, even with the procession disarmed. From my past experience with Valin, I knew he would not allow himself be completely disarmed, and even if he were...he would still be a force to be reckoned with.

Valin must have sensed the danger he was in, skilled as he was, from a score of armed guards and a dozen more strategically placed murderholes that concealed archers armed with crossbows.

Valin justified himself, and the King seemed to accept it in the name of keeping the peace.

More names were called, more "heroes" introduced, and finally I heard my name called.

"Your Majesty, may I present to you...Lord Seraph Belfast Wyrmsbane, Ruler of the Blood Plains of the far East."

I grimaced and stepped forward, standing in front of the king of the realm.

"Your majesty," I said, clapping a fist to my breastplate in salute. I would not bow to my social equal, even in his own court; especially one whose skill with a blade was surpassed by a drunk goblin.

Fading back into the crowd, I saw Valin's eyes wide slightly with recognition of the name.

OOC: Let me know if anything I've presented doesn't work.

Adrian turned as he was announced.
"Adrian Temperast Paladin of the Temple of Justice." Adrian walked in and bowed respectfully to the king, the king laughed and said "Adrian if anyone should be bowing it is me, for you all chose to help the kingdom for many reasons."
Adrian stood up and looked around what an odd assortment of heroes, a dwarf elf, two rogue, and a int resting character who had blood red Armour and last of all a druid. This sure was going to int resting he thought.

He was gonna to be working with a manner of different personality's. He saw the king guards eying him in wonder. He hated people staring at him. He walked over to where the man named as Seraph stood. He had heard the name when he was called. "Hello master Seraph i'm Adrian."

"This is not a social gathering, Paladin. If it were...I would not be here. I am a busy man. Furthermore...I am Lord Belfast, until you have earned my respect. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

I made sure my voice was quiet but very firm. I would not have some fool who thought he knew something interrupting the ceremony.

"Now...be silent, and speak when you are addressed by the king, once the ceremony is over."

I stood at attention, with my chin held high. Regardless of the fact that most of the "heroes" present would not even know where the blood plains were let alone who ruled them, I would present myself with the dignity expected of a ruler.

Valin Norovir:

I was fidgeting a lot in that stuffy old throne room, with that insufferable barbarian as a king, and that arrogant Master at Arms. Slowly, I inched over towards Seraph "Lord" Belfast whom I considered a freind, thirty years earlier, when we were both wet-behind-the-ears youngsters.
"Lord Belfast, is it now, eh? When did you start ruling the place?"

Henry rolled his eyes at the pointless ceremonial activities that he was being forced into. One of the newcomers, a Dwarf, who had arrived later than the rest, had been staring at him for quite a while and he realised that the Dwarf was in equal contempt of the throne room.

He winked at the Dwarf, with his well-kept beard, dressed splendidly in a black cloak that Henry couldn't help but admire (for thieving purposes, of course).

It had been the perfect opportunity. The wilderness was his home after all.

Tan’quin Bromatis stood to the side, seemingly unnoticed while the other heroes were each introduced. A leaf sat on the floor, most likely drug on the bottom of someone’s boots. He quickly bent down to snatch it up. He looked at it with an appreciation that none of the others would ever be able to understand.

He released the leaf into the air and it floated gently back to the floor.

The Announcer began, “And here, Your Majesty, we have… uh--”

“Tan’quin Bromatis.”

“Tan’quin Bromatis!”

The King looked at him with reluctance. “So you’re the druid. We don’t often see one of your sort around these parts. In fact, I would gladly offer you a place as one of my advisors. There’s no telling what information I could possess with a man of your… talent.”

Tan’quin felt his face flush and he forced himself to look into the king’s eyes.

“Sorry, milord, but the woods are my home. I’d like nothing better than to join the expedition.”

“So be it.”

Tan’quin simply nodded.