The Banished

Ego · 2008-02-28T07:37:52Z

They are safe, inside their sanctuary of silver and steel. They go about their lives as though nothing has happened—behind the glass, automobiles of aluminum and plastic rumble along paved streets while they themselves trudge along the sides of the road, as they do every day, to get to their destinations. Their sharp, grey suits are crisp and pressed, their attache cases clutched in clenched fingers as though their immortal souls were contained within. They march on, like insects within their colony, delusions of individuality and freedom trapped, held prisoner, in their minds. Never have they questioned these ideas, for they’ve had no reason to. The truth has been hidden from them for so long, it’s been forgotten. The truth would destroy them. Will destroy them. For we are the truth. They call themselves the race of humanity. There is nothing humane about their existence. They wage war on one another; for oil, for their gods, for the shiny rocks that grow from the ground. For what? For nothing. They are slaves to that which they own; their televisions and computer screens govern where they are at any given time, while their cellular phones and their internet trap them in a web that has all but destroyed the intricate weave of magic that once covered their Earth. Their ancestors, wielding true power, completely unlike anything they currently know, were the same as they are now—but infinitely different. We had once lived peacefully, side by side. They were little more than barbarians when we first found them, but they showed great potential. For centuries, millenia even, we benefitted from one another’s presence. They provided us protection, for they were the physically stronger of the two, and we provided them knowledge—knowledge of mechanics, of science, of magic. They learned quickly--surpassed our wildest expectations. The guard dog became the conqueror, then. Their betrayal came on swift winds. Using our own mystical talents, they sealed us here, in this negative plane, this vast wasteland where no grass grows, no flowers bloom, no hearts beat. Timeless. Our bodies have remained unchanged for what has been an eternity. We have retained our mysticism, albeit unable to use it in this place. Our memories are unchanged. We remember Man’s betrayal as if they sealed the gate mere moments before. Man has become soft. They rely on their computers, their automobiles, and their guns to solve their problems. They are physically unable to live without their technology. They now have no defense. Their guards, who they trapped here, with us, lay dead at my feet. Their world, for the world we once inhabited with them is And now, the gate stands open, and we watch them as they go about their lives, only a thin sheet of glass standing in our way. They are oblivious to the army, standing among the corpses of their fallen brethren, awaiting the moment that they will reclaim their throne. Our time has come. --Anonymous Banished One The Premise: The Banished are a race of magic wielding beings who were sent to the Negative Plane by the humans they sought to educate in the ways of the universe. As centuries passed, humanity forgot what magic was, relying on technology to perform their daily activities. A small, secretive group of humans continued to practice magic should the Banished return. And return they have, in force. For the past three weeks, random acts of violence are occurring on the streets of the city--cars fall from the sky to explode on the street, killing sprees have become commonplace. The Setting: Modern day Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The Plot: Our protagonists are thrown into a dangerous situation in the midst of a crisis. They must find out the origin and put a stop to it. More as it unfolds. The Characters: As a writer in this storybook, you may make only human characters, who fall into two categories. The first category is Watcher : These humans are trained in the Arcane Arts in order to defend the world of man from the Banished, should they ever escape. Typically, the secrets of the Banished and the Gate are passed on from generation to generation, but as time has passed, and as technology encompasses more and more of the world, the secret has been passed to others outside the bloodline. The secrets themselves are still jealously guarded, but it is not uncommon for humans with no blood ties to the original Watchers to learn the art. Women are more often Watchers than men, though exact reasons are unknown. Each Watcher manifests his or her magic differently, some working through mediums such as scrolls or chants, others merely concentrating on what they need to do. See the sample character profile for more information. IMPORTANT NOTE: Manifestations are *not* mutant powers, like in XMen. Think of a manifestation as how one controls or channels her magic. Tiernan, profiled below, uses blood to manipulate the magical energies in his body. Further examples include Chanting, Material Components, Art, Dance, Song, and so forth. Everyone who has written a manifestation needs to send me a PM describing how their character would cast a spell. We'll work from there in finding a way to make your manifestation work. The second category is just your Average Joe . These characters are normal humans, with no formal training in the arts. They may be talented in the Arcane, or they may just be regular people trying to make their way. Either way, as the world descends into chaos, they are sucked into it. Be imaginative with your characters here. Rules: These are important. 1)No team-killing: If an active character is going to die, make sure it is thoroughly discussed between both parties involved. 2)On Writing Style: This is a Storybook RPG, so players may write in any style they please. First person, third person omniscient, it's all dependent on your personal preference. 3)On God-Moding: God Moding is vague. Here are the rules for it. -- Other authors may control another author's character as long as it keeps the character IN CHARACTER. For extra help, communicate with the author of the character being god-moded first. -- Authors have every right to determine what is in or out of character for their character. As such, any action they feel is wrong for the character can be vetoed within a few days of the post. -- This isn't a turn-based RPG, it is a real-time RPG. That means that you aren't obligated to stop and wait for the author to reply to your character. This way, we don't wait three days for a response. 4) Out of character discussion is to be carried out in the Discussion Thread for this Storybook. 5) I reserve the right to edit any post to modify content as needed in order to retain the continuity of characters and plot. Sample Watcher: Full Name: Robert Tiernan Dolsser Gender: Male Age: 24 Birthplace: NYC, New York Occupation: Watcher --Job: Librarian Eyes: Brown Hair: long black Height: 6' Weight: 140 lbs. Social Class: Lower Middle Appearance: Your typical "Goth" kid. Black clothes, black leather accessories, and chains out the yang. His body is covered in scars, both minuscule and monstrous--an after-effect of the medium through which he manifests his magic. He frequently wears dramatic eyeliner and henna tattoos. Clothing: --Baggy black cargo pants with dangling straps --Tight black T-Shirt --Spiked leather bracers --Watcher's Pendant --Heavy leather boots Manifestation: Blood. Tiernan Manifests his magic by means of letting his own blood and infusing magical energy into it. The effect of the spell depends on the location and depth of the cut. Tiernan's magical focus is on offensive spells, either enhancing his physical capabilities or by missile projections in the form of fireballs and arcane bolts. Brief History: Tiernan was raised by his grandfather to be a Watcher. He showed strong promise at a very early age, during a rough, violent school life in elementary school. He got in frequent fights with the other kids, even going as far as to fight two sixth graders at once in his second year. The older boys were tossing his lunchbox back and forth, when he decided enough was enough. He tackled one of the boys, but was immediately thrown off. He clipped his knuckles on a jagged fence, tearing them open. From that second, the tide turned--Tiernan fought viciously, and he had to be pulled off the half-conscious boys by the time the teachers got to them. Thus began a series of suspensions and expulsions. Byu the time he reached high school he has been transferred to five different districts. His parents sent him to his grandfather for lessons in discipline. His grandfather gave him these in the form of learning the ways of the Watcher. IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm going to implement a new idea I had recently into this storybook, due to the sheer number of Watchers we have. I would like everyone to have a manifestation listed in their profile, regardless of whether they are a Watcher or not. However, do not include in your profile whether or not your character is in fact a Watcher. That will be my decision. Watchers are a highly secretive group--it's only logical that very few people would know of their existence. Hell...maybe the Watchers themselves don't know each other. So here's what I'd like to do. Everyone that's aboard for the storybook PM me with your preference for Watcher Status--either a Make me a Watcher or a Don't make me a Watcher--and I'll be choosing for you. If it really isn't working, we'll go ahead and go back to this way, but I'd like to try this. Carry on.

Billy

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Thu Mar 20, 2008 6:14 am

Billy says... · Thu Mar 20, 2008 6:14 am

Day 1. 8:43am. Josh.

Josh leaned against a wall, trying to stop himself from coughing so he could listen properly. A reinforced building? He remembered his teacher mentioning something like that, but he'd only really listened when he'd been being taught something to do with music.

He coughed again, thankful for the girl's support, and looked around a bit more. He wiped some more dust off his face, rubbing at his eyes a little.

"Waite here for a minute, okay?" she said, before smoothing his hair down. He looked up, taken by surprise by that. He opened his mouth to say that he was fine, he'd go too, but only coughed again, steadying himself against the wall with one hand and nodding as she left.

He looked again, able to see through parts of the settling dust cloud. People were moving about frantically now, some helping people to their feet, others yelling for help. He saw an ambulance arrive, a young man in a paramedic's uniform stepping out and surveying the area. He didn't know what it was, but something about the paramedic made him uneasy.

That's completely irrational. He's obviously just looking for the person in the most need. Josh thought, starting to turn away as the man evidently saw someone. Then he stepped back into the shadows. Josh turned back, looking for where he'd gone. His eyes narrowed a touch, and he crouched down again, opening the clasps on his case, readying himself in case anything more happened.

He had decided to live forever or die in the attempt. - Yossarian, Catch-22

Wide-eyed stupid.

If you're gonna rule the world, you've gotta get up early! - Joel S. Dickens

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Rubric

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Mon Mar 24, 2008 3:18 am

Rubric says... · Mon Mar 24, 2008 3:18 am

8:44 James

Standing in the shadows of a building close to the accident scene, James watched the Watchers, mulling over his options.

He could approach them, greet them and hope they held some answers for him, but seeing how threy had handled what was evidently an attack on them, he doubted they knew much.

There was something odd about the whole situation, beyond the fact that a band of magic-users had just been bombarded in a cafe.

Perplexed, James drew his arms through some complex maneuvres; relying more on his elbows than his hands, and then stopped; drawing the nail of each forfinger over his eyelids.

As thin film of purple light coated his black eyes, refracting his vision.

There were still remnant particles of the attack, some kind of fireball probably, which floated around the scene jauntily. This had been fairly obvious to James, but he looked more carefully,deeper. It seemed odd that so many watchers had gathered here to be attacked, that he himself had been drawn here once he had escaped.

There. Under one of the broken tables a Siren calling; though damaged now, to the few who could hear it. Probably laid by the Banished or their servants, though possibly by a rogue watcher out for revenge. the little enchantment would subliminally pulling Watchers and the untrained, to where they could be dealt with easily.

With a slashing movement of his wrist, James destroyed the Siren.

And kept watching.

So you're going to kill a god. Sure. But what happens next?

Diary of a Deicide, Part One.

Got YWS?

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Ego

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Sat Mar 29, 2008 5:11 am

Ego says... · Sat Mar 29, 2008 5:11 am

Day 1. 8:45am. Tiernan.

"Hey, Ace--what's happened? What should I do?"

Tiernan didn't have time to deal with the humans. The Banished had struck, and he was stuck because none of the Watchers present were experienced enough to know how to react to a direct goddamn order. There he was, blood dripping down his arm and onto the debris littered floor, and all they could do was stare. Bastards.

He turned to face the young woman that had tapped him on the shoulder and shook his head slowly. "You need to get out of here. I'm with the FBI--was working on a sting operation, but it looks like it's gone bad. Go now, and find someplace safe. Call this number when you're out of harm's way." He flicked a matte black business card with glossed black script out to her and then turned his back on her. "Take them all with you, if you can get them to move."

Tiernan didn't have the patience to deal with rookie Watchers--he had a Banished to kill. He stepped outside the ruined cafe once more--

--and his eyes met with James. Tirnan's eyes narrowed. He was dressed as an EMT, but Tiernan knew those eyes anywhere. The veteran Watcher had gone missing some time ago, after a major battle with the enemy. The last Tiernan had seen of him, he was pursuing a particularly slippery opponent. They had lost contact soon after, and he had been missing ever since. Even Oracle's powerful divination had been unable to locate him. His reappearance this close to an attack was unsettling at best.

Got YWS? I do.

Lumi: Don't you drag my donobby into this.
Lumi: He's the sweetest angel this side of hades.

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Stephixy

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Tue Apr 01, 2008 9:53 pm

Stephixy says... · Tue Apr 01, 2008 9:53 pm

Day 1- 8:42 a.m. Lamiaferox

The sensation of heat and free falling take over Lamia's world as the blast envelopes the area. Her head bounces off of a table and shrapnel leaves cuts randomly across her body, depths ranging from cat scratch thin, to stab wound deep. She lands hard on her right arm, the one that was bent behind her back twisting her hair in slow circles. The snap of her humorous bone cannot be heard, but the pain shooting through her arm and the bone peeking out of its fleshly sleeve tell how badly it's broken. Blood sinks into the fabrics of her shirt, and undergarment as well as her overstuffed backpack, as Lamia fights to stay awake and alert.

Smoke and settling dust filled her throat and she coughed suddenly and violently. She heard people and movements, but her head was still swimming from the encounter it had with the table that was now laying in pieces next to and on top of her and she could not make out what was being said. A strong male voice came out of no where, and his words were strangely clear, like they were being said from inside her head instead of audibly.

“Break cover and listen closely. I need someone to Bind this, and someone to get these people to safety. I also need--Need one of you contact Oracle to get in touch with the others. Take these people to a Sanctuary. This place was targeted for a reason, and I intend to find out what that reason is. No questions, just do it." She heard him say as she foggily fought her way to a standing position, using the still intact wall near her. She understood not a word of what he said, so disregarded what he said as soon as she heard it. She needed to get out of there, and fast.

Her broken arm hung limply and awkwardly at her side, and her face was twisted in agony. She stumbled towards the close by door, vision blurry, and lungs’ trying to rid themselves yet of what was already mostly clear. She bent over and wretched just inside the door, but having not eaten this day, nothing but bile and phlegm came out. She just wanted to collapse, once out though, she would do what she could to run as far and fast as she could. She exited the building, but got jolted on her right from trying to squeeze past a two men staring at each other. She screamed and her body jolted in the opposite direction causing her to fall onto the man she least wanted to be in contact with, the black clad heartbreaking hero…

We keep waiting on the World to stop but it won't slow down and we'll never catch up... - Grey Holiday

We're making Fiction of our lives, Burning pages as we write... - Kids In the Way

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