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The Legend of The Rose



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Sat Jan 03, 2015 2:06 am
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ElvenKnight says...



In the world of Tempalis, there lies a rose,said to give immortality, that lies in the Pass of Gorbad, a mountain range believed to be a myth. The human king of Durox seeks this rose for... well, I'm sure you can tell why. He is sending forth his riders to gather every able bodied adventurer who would like 100,000 upon completion of the quest, which means the king is immortal. Perilous is this journey, for others would seek the rose as well. The Elven king, Islandir, knows that the king is doing this, and seeks the Rose as well. And so the race begins, between elves and men, bringing up new hatreds, and old ones as well. With the hatred intensified between these two races, the other races stand wary. Dwarves, satyrs, centaurs and minotaurs, begin to join sides as the hatred intensifies. Even the Orcs of the north are preparing for war. This could be their chance, to destroy all good in this world.

Amongst all this, Gordric Bregnest, a famed adventurer, seeks the rose for a different purpose. To destroy it. He seeks allies in this quest. For with the destruction of the rose, perhaps the race would end, and a war could be averted. He sends word to his allies, to you, to join him in the village of Darrow, so you can plan. Are you up to the challenge, willing to go against your own race, in the race to prevent all out war, and the destruction of Tempalis. Arise adventurers, and begin the quest of The Rose!!!

Character Profile
Spoiler! :
Character Name:
Character Race:
Character Appearance: (Pictures are ok)
Character Personality:
Character equipment:( Swords and such)
Character Skills: (Lockpick, hunter, magician)
Character History: (How do You Know Gordric and your past)


If the right person volunteers, I could use a co writer for this ;)

My limit is seven people. If more show up, well, i could opne up new positions such as Leader of the Humjan and elf groups. Gracias
"Aquellos de nosotros que van a morir te saludan"

"Those of us who are about to die salute you"





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Tue Jan 13, 2015 4:24 am
StupidSoup says...



Morn

Morn was having a bad day. As he walked into town, he couldn't help but let a little shadow seep off of him and into the midday sky. Sadly, this did not scare the six bandits who faced him. Sighing, Morn drew Stone, this man Godric had chosen quite a nice place although to say it was nestled in suburbia would be an understatement.

Morn had sent a hired spy out to Godric. He had heard of Godric's plan and wanted in. The Rose was nothing to laugh at and Morn had known ever since he started tailing Godric that the man was onto something important. Morn had a knack for finding important people.

With a shout, the group charged. Morn casually sidestepped the first blade then turned and smacked his opponent across the neck, severing the poor soul's spine.

Turning, he deftly switched his weapon to the left and lifted it to block. Metal clanged off stone and Morn flicked his shield, disarming the man and breaking his wrist. Pain was an important factor in combat, it paralyzed even the bravest men.

The fallen man's comrades ran to join him yet were met by Morn's fist. Encased in stone, the bandit's blades were smacked aside and Morn dispatched the first man with a side swipe across the head.

Spinning right, he blocked once, twice, thrice, then crouched and took the bandit's feet out from under him. Straightening, he leaned left, dodging the incoming strike and, twisting, jumped to avoid a blade aimed towards his ankles.

Realizing the man he tripped was still in action, Morn reacted quickly, he stepped away from his fallen adversary, dodging a sword aimed for his head and completed a full rotation, blocking two more strikes and slipping inside the bandit's guard to knee him in the chest, just below the diaphragm, stopping the man's heart.

His last opponent rose and charged Morn, his battle cry more desperate than courageous. Letting rock flow over his elbow, Morn twisted and the bandit's sword glanced off his stony skin. Completing his spin, he ended up on the bandits left, behind the man's guard. The man fell to the ground.

Footsteps sounded from behind Morn. He turned to see the bandit with the broken wrist sprinting down the road, back into the forest. Concentrating, he felt the distance between them, felt it widening with each step. Morn knew the calculations, he could do this in his sleep. With a flick of his wrist, a spike of rock shot up from the ground, skewering the bandit.

Morn, walked off the battle field. Godric was close, he would be there within the hour.
Last edited by StupidSoup on Fri Jan 30, 2015 5:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Thu Jan 29, 2015 12:30 am
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ElvenKnight says...



Gordric Bregnest


Gordric glanced down at his plate as his maid sat it down. He nodded his thanks and than proceeded to eat. As always, his thoughts drifted to the quest. So far none of his allies had arrived, and he had sent the letters nearly a moon hence. He finished his meal and began to walk around his garden. With the money he had gained over the years he had been ale to purchase this manor, and install several additions, such as a stable, several guest houses, and this garden.

He smiled sadly, recalling all the years he had spent in the wilderness, all the friends he had made... and lost. He just hoped his friends would arrive soon. He had been brought word that the king was possibly sending a platoon to arrest him. Well, at least the human king was. Gordric ad refused to lead either of their quest, and as everyone knows, a king does not like to be refused.

Gordric glanced at the setting sun and smiled. He had been an adventurer for nigh 63 years, he was nearing his 77th birthday. For a man to still be alive and kicking like he was considered to be a miracle. Maybe it was. he had enjoyed his life, but something told him this would be his last quest. His will had been written, and he would accept death, but that doesn't mean he wasn't going to try and fight off Death. One of his men-at-arms approached." Sir Bregnest, there is a commotion at the gate. It seems as if your visitors have begun to arrive."
"Aquellos de nosotros que van a morir te saludan"

"Those of us who are about to die salute you"





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Thu Jan 29, 2015 2:15 am
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TheCrimsonLady says...



~Ash/Somewhere far, far away~

The stillness of the night suits me. So does the cold that seeps in through my boots. It feels right. Punishingly right.

With half-numb fingers, I peel my gloves off, tucking them inside my pack. The arrow I had so belovedly crafted lies next to me. As I pick it up, a thorn from the rose twisted around the shaft pricks my finger.

Just like every other time. The warrior blood that had sung through my brother would appreciate it.

One rose arrow, for every year that I regret killing him. And as many as I can fashion for his birthday. Stamping my feet to drive away the lingering numbness, I continue on my trek up the mountain. My feet know the way, and I let them carry me to Aiden's grave. To the little hollow in the mountain face, and deep, deep inside, to the place where I had once dragged my brother's body and knelt by the underground stream, body wracked with sobs.

In another life. Or it feels like it, at least. I crawl through the tunnels, feeling my way with a hand, until the ceiling slowly rises until I can stand fully. When I emerge into the ice chamber, as I like to think of it, my breath catches in my throat. There is no rock over my head anymore. No, the roof is a solid ring of ice. The sun streams in through it, the light dancing through the cavern, catching on the ice crystals, throwing little rainbows through the room.

My brother's grave- directly underneath the ice- has piles and piles of roses surrounding it. None of them have died, preserved by the eternal cold. Old magic, probably, but who cared? There are stacks of white roses, of yellow roses, and yes, a pink rose studded through them here and there, but there are no red.

I glance at the scarlet rose and black arrow in my fingers. I press my lips to the soft petals of the rose and place it carefully in the center of his grave.

"Red, like blood." My whisper echoes in the small area, and I leave as fast as I can.

When I crawl back out the tiny entrance, it is past midday. If I hurry, I'll reach the nearest town before dark. The thought of a warm bath and a mug of cider makes my weary feet go faster.

It takes longer than expected to reach the town, and by then, I have no time for a bath or food. I toss a copper to the stable boy at the inn when he brings my horse out. He thanks me, scurrying away at the sight of my blades beneath my cloak. Thankfully, my room in Fiiar is on my way to Darrow. It takes me until midnight to ride to the coast line. I stop at the nearest inn and sell my horse in exchange for a fresh one.

The coastline seems to stretch on forever. In the wee hours of the morning, I reach Fiiar, and the room I rent. I climb the stairs wearily and draw a hot bath for myself after lighting a fire. The cold air brushes my bare skin, and I scowl in annoyance. I sink into the hot water, and taking a bar of smooth soap, proceed to scrub every inch of my skin with it. When I finally feel clean, and the room has heated up, I dry myself off and rustle through the pantry or something to eat. Finding nothing but a bottle of wine, I uncork it and pour myself a glass. It is delightfully cool, and I let myself relax, playing with a knife. I fall into bed to get a few hours of sleep.

When I wake, my stomach growls, demanding food. Judging from the sun, it is close to mid-afternoon. I have the time to eat and pack whatever clothes I want to take with me in a saddlebag. I go downstairs to my stable, and stare at the dappled grey I had taken last night in my hurry.

My lip curls in contempt and I sell it to the first person I can find. A gentleman leads a fiery black stallion down the road, and I hurry forward.

"Excuse me, sir, but can I buy that horse off of you?"

He snorts. "Not unless you have a hundred gold coins with you, miss."

I promptly pull out a purse that contains two hundred and toss it to the man. "Your horse, please, sir."

An awestruck expression on his face, he gives me the reins and I lead the horse back to my apartments. He seems to be in good condition, so I saddle him and hang the saddle bag over the side. I leave the reins tied around a post and go upstairs to dress.

I pull on a black dress that opens up in the front from the waist down to reveal leggings. My leather weapon belt goes over my waist. I lace up knee high boots that are almost new. I slide my sword into its sheath and strap daggers onto various hidden places on my body. The only touch of colour I have are bright red hairpins that are as sharp as needles and sturdy as axes. Each of them are small rubies shaped into the figure of a rose.

A velvet cloak goes over the entire ensemble. When I pull the hood up, no one can see my face clearly. Carefully, I apply kohl to my eyes as I study myself in the floor length mirror in my room. I bite my lip. The chance that I could be recognised still exists, so I slip a mask that covers my eyes and top half of my cheekbones on. It doesn't hinder my appearance. Satisfied with my appearance, I smirk at my reflection.

I mount the stallion and set off. After a few hours, I come to the outskirts of Darrow. I purchase some bread and wolf it down, along with an apple and cheese. Hunger gone, I let my horse trot towards Gordric's manor.

I wonder if he knows that I know where he lives.

I come to his gates at dusk, where the gate guard stops me. "I am sorry, my lady, but I cannot let you through without knowing your business."

Gordric would know that no one fitting my description has been invited to his quest if I claimed to be part of it and word was sent to him. "I've come with an important message for your master. Now let me through."

The boy persists in refusing me. "My master is not expecting a message. I am sorry, milady, but I cannot let you through."

My patience wears thin. I need to be out of the streets before nightfall. I let my daggers fall into my hands from my long sleeves. "Either let me in, or I will kill you and let myself in. Do you understand me?"

He gulps and opens the gates. I ride through haughtily and dismount at the door, tossing the reins to the stableboy that rushes out to me. I steel my face into cold disinterest.

I hope you're ready for me, Gordric, because I am very ready for you. An evil smile flits across my face as I step through the doors, and then disappears.
Let the blood pour down in rivers as the world burns.





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Tue Feb 03, 2015 8:23 pm
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ThePatchworkPilgrims says...



Phiaraus

~Stuck down a well~

One can hardly blame Godric forgetting about his good friend Phiaraus,after all, he was nearly seventy seven, but one still looks for your companion if they have been missing for three days.
That was because Phiaraus was stuck down a well.
Early one morning, a few of the men-at-arms thought it would be funny if they lowered a sleeping Seer to the bottom of the dried up well. When Phiaraus woke up a few hours later, he was greeted by five grinning faces staring twenty feet down at him. Infuriated, he cursed all five of them, to which they responded simply by laughing and walking away.
Immediately Phiaraus had noticed that this was no ordinary well. Instead of being greeted by stone walls, he saw four long corridors leading away from the well opening. Set into the walls of these corridors where dozens of sarcophagi, many surrounded by jewels and golden artifacts.
Believing that he was going to be stuck down there indefinitely, Phiaraus set about exploring the corridors. The "dried up" well turned out to be a very strange crypt, with the only entrance or exit being the well's hole. He found many interesting trinkets, but the most interesting of them all was the ceremonial suit of armor, including a jeweled sword and shield. After carefully removing it from its pedestals, he decided to give these to Godric as a birthday present (It was going to be his last adventure after all...) Then he waited.

And now we're three days in the future, where a rope just dangled down through the hole. Suspicious, Phiaraus gingerly tested the rope's strength, before climbing out.
Waiting for him up top were only two of the five rascals, both extremely pale. As Phiaraus got upright, they took several steps away from him.
"I won't bite," he said, "Yet, that is."
"Our friends..." the one soldier said.
"What about them?"
"They're dead," the other soldier said.
"Dead?" Phiaraus said shocked.
"Louis died three days ago. Got trampled by a angry horse. Two days ago, Nathan died in a bar fight..." the first soldier said.
"And the third?"
"Gavin died this morning," the second said, "His tent just randomly caught fire while he was asleep."
"And why did you save me from the well, then?" Phiaraus asked, realizing what they were implying.
"Your curse killed them," both said, fear and desperation evident in their voices, "We want you to remove it, please."
Suppressing a laugh, Phiaraus tried to look serious, "I am sorry, but I can't."
"Pleease!!" the first guard grabbed hold of the Seer's arm, "We'll do anything."
"Anything?" Phiaraus asked.
"Yes!"
After a momentary pause, Phiaraus replied. "Very well, you'll serve me until I deem you worthy of being uncursed."
"Thank you, Seer Mage," the guards both sighed of relief.
"First you'll bring me food and drink, I'm starving. After that I'll give you your next duties."
As the men-at-arms ran off, Phiaraus burst out into laughter.
Fools, he thought, Their friends are very much alive, albeit in unconscious, in the crypts. They were simply replaced by magical images I created as each of them came to check on me. A little bit of magic can take one far.
Phiaraus looked around before making his way to Godric's tent with his friends birthday presents...
Former incarnations have been:
TheWanderingWizard
TheClockworkConjurer
TheIllusiveIntellect
TheSunderingSorceror
And, TheMaieuticMesmerist


Proudly [They/Them]





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Wed Feb 04, 2015 8:57 am
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EscaSkye says...



Elle | Away


Away.

That word struck her more than she thought it would. In her heart, two images were etched: one of her elf mother, and another of her human father. Her mind’s thoughts weren’t only spiralling around their faces, but also their scents. Her mother almost always smelled of home cooked meals and flowers, whereas her father smelled of rusted metal and sweat. Those were scents she won’t be able to whiff anytime soon.

Elle continued to ride her horse through the dirt path of the meadow near the river. Everything seemed so calm, so peaceful, as if no possible war was about to start. She wondered how much longer it would last.

“Please, mother, take care of yourself and father. I won’t be around to make sure that both of you will be all right,” Elle said, a tinge of nervousness evident in her voice, as she squeezed her mother’s hands.

Elle and her mother sat in front of the fireplace, shielding themselves from the cold of the night. The elder Serell guard wasn’t around, for he was helping the others prepare for the quest that would start the next day. Elle took this opportunity to speak and spend time with her mother, who, just like her, looked younger than she truly was because of her elven lineage.

“We will be fine, my dear. What seems to be the problem? I know that you’ll come back safe and sound from the quest. You trained long hours to be a knight, there isn’t a way you aren’t prepared,” she replied, brushing away some of Elle’s hair then gently tracing parts of her daughter’s pointed ears. “What are you planning to do?”

Elle knew she could never hide anything from her. Even though she tried before – numerous times, even, in her childhood, her mother always knew when she had something in her mind. Elle sighed and let her head rest on her mother’s lap.

“I’ll be leaving hours before dawn. I met this adventurer, and I decided that I want to help him destroy the rose,” she confessed, staring at the dancing flames of the hearth. “I was lost and didn’t know what to do. I knew if I helped the king, then we’ll be banished from the Elf kingdom. Not only that, but there’s the possibility that they’ll tear our family apart. I want everyone to be together. I don’t think I can bear losing anyone I love.”

For a while, a silence pervaded them. Elle could feel her heart beat heavily in her chest. What would her mother say? What would her father say? Will they hold her back? She closed her eyes, preparing to be lectured when suddenly, two soft hands cupped her cheeks. When she opened her eyes again, she met a pair of emerald jewels looking at her, partnered with a warm smile.

“Do what you think is right. We will always support you. I only ask that you come back to us safely, dearest.”

With that, Elle felt lips softly press against her forehead. That was the blessing she had been waiting for.


As she rode slowly on, Elle took out one of many Ficus leaves she had in her saddlebag. Lightly holding on to the reins, she began to play a tune taught to her years ago. It was the first song she was able to play with leaves. Soon, as the music gradually eased her, Elle found herself engulfed in memories; even her horse seemed to relax a little as she continued on playing. Memories of her childhood, of her training – of everything important to her, circled round and round in her mind. These, she remembered, were the reasons why she decided to leave. If she were to grow homesick now, she knew all her planning, from writing the king and her fellow knights letters that she planned to go ahead to have a head start and clear the path, to lying to citizens with whom she came across as she travelled, would be for naught.

As the wind blew past, the courage in her heart grew once more. With an affectionate smile on her lips, Elle let go of the leaf, watching it be carried away, and held on tight to her horse’s reins. With no more hesitation in her head, she tapped her horse’s side with her heels, beginning to ride faster and faster to her destination: Gordric’s manor.
Not anymore.





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Thu Feb 05, 2015 7:02 am
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Apricity says...



Illina 









"Dammit Ferny, one more time and I'll snap that finger off." Illina was in a rare bad mood, she downed the cup of ale in front of her and slammed the cup down. Causing the entire wooden bench to shiver in protest. She wondered vaguely what her parents would say at her behavior now, mostly likely screeching their throats off like a beheaded parakeet. 

A grimace flitted across her face as she turned and slapped away the hand that crept along her sides, she wasn't in the mode for advances. She grabbed the knife off a drunken man and held it steadily against Ferny's throat, the man's blood-shot eyes widened in fear and surprise.

'Ain't no nee fer dat, Ina. I'll go." He backed off with a unsteady lurch, fingers kneading the soft skin under his throat. This was the third man tonight that tried to made advances on her since she came in, and she was in no mood to entertain anyone. 

First, she received a letter from Godric after god knows how many moths without news of him, requesting her to come, immediately, please. If it weren't for the nice hunting lodge she's been sharing with a fellow elf who is quite attractive, or the fact that there were plenty of prey near by, or perhaps the fact that her perfume business was blooming. She'd have gone riding off much sooner. 

But that didn't happen to be the case, things always strikes at the most inopportune moments. And midway through her journey, Lettin had refused  to budge a single inch. It was pure luck that they stopped near a tavern and there happened to be a stable hand in it. Inevitably, thoughts of her past slowly seeped from the realms of the past into her conscious mind. Even more so lately, Illina haven't visited her family once ever since she left and that was well over four years ago. She craved company desperately, craved love, she wondered how father and mother was doing and her sisters. As the seeds of doubt begun to grow and envelop her mind, she began to wonder if it was time to re-visit her past and let her two separate selves reconcile. 

"Your horse is ready." The stablehand's quiet words jolted her out of the nostalgic void, she stood up in one fluid motion and thanked him gracefully with a copper. 

'No use in reminiscing the past, I'm no longer who I am yesterday nor will I chase it to loose myself.
' She mused as she mounted Lettin and headed to Godric's place. If, he stilled lived in that god-forsaken gloomy castle. 

The dark offered no estimate of the distance she had travelled, only the sound of galloping hooves and her own heartbeat offered any measures of time. The night, was a brisk one with pale pails of moonlight throwing a veil over the path. Whispers of noises and laughter reached her eyes as she spotted a raising castle in the distance. The cacophony of noise continued to increase as she approached it, a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. 

She was here, at last. And it seems, as if nothing had changed just like the massive rowdy mass of people and horse that blocked the entrance to the castle. 

Splendid. 
Previously Flite

'And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.' ― Friedrich Nietzsche

~Open for business~





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Sun Feb 22, 2015 7:36 pm
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BrumalHunter says...



Xenophon | Harbinger of Bad News


Sometimes, it truly was a burden being an excellent soothsayer. True, his talent sustained him, but frequently knowing when something bad was about to happen could become quite frustrating, as he had to drop whatever he was busy with - not necessarily in the figurative sense - to go warn the people. At least the person concerned was Gordric.

Xenophon had been planning on joining his friend anyway, for his assistance had been requested, after all, so he merely hastened his preparations. He had left at dawn and arrived at Gordric's manor two hours after dusk on that very same day - being a centaur certainly was a blessing.

Unfortunately, rumours and superstition made his life a tad bit more difficult. Especially when one of those misinformed fools was the guard at the gate.

"I'm sorry," the guard said hesitantly, "but there isn't a centaur on the list, and if you're not on the list, I can't let you in. I don't think we have enough ale for one of you anyway..."

Xenophon gave the boy an icy glare, his attempt at intimidation succeeding. "I do not have to be on a guest list to gain access to a close friend's residence. Gordric Bregnest will agree, I am sure."

The boy gulped, but continued to regard Xenophon with a frightened stare. The centaur sighed and summoned his cards with a flick of his hand, levitating them above his head. He hated charades.

"You're the Weaver of Fate!" the boy exclaimed. "Ah, stupid! Of course, milord, you can enter." He gestured for the guards on the inside to open the gate.

Xenophon returned the cards to his satchel and passed through unsmilingly. To make things worse, Gordric was having a party, so he constantly had to watch his step, lest he accidentally trample one of the unconscious guests; those who were still conscious were too drunk to move out of the way, hindering his progress even further.

When he finally reached the front doors, his hopes of greater ease of movement were dashed to pieces, for the inside of the manor was even more crowded than the outside. (How that was possible, he could not comprehend.) The dreaded stairs proved the greatest impediment yet, for they were already difficult to ascend without every square foot of it being occupied.

After at least ten mintues of moving through the swaying mass, Xenophon eventually came to Gordric's personal quarters, where said adventurer was sharing a glass of wine with a greying man and two beautiful elfins. None of them were familiar, so he automatically assumed the man must be a good friend and the two women their... well.

"Xenophon!" Gordric exclaimed, putting down his goblet and embracing the centaur. (The latter had to bend forward to make the action possible.) "You are here! It seems all of you had decided to arrive at the same time. Please, let me introduce you to our fellow adventurers." He turned to his three companions, passing his hand over each of them as he said their names. "That is my good friend Phiarus Girodus, and these two stunning ladies are Illina and Elena."

They were more than just pretty faces? He would have to do a reading on them as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Xenophon sighed inwardly when he was introduced as 'the Weaver of Fate', but made a stiff bow nevertheless. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he replied stiffly, "but I am afraid I bear grim tidings." he turned to his friend. "The king of Durox has sent his soldiers to arrest you."

Gordric smiled. "I am aware, but he will have some difficulty in accomplishing that."

"I wouldn't take the matter lightly, Gordric," the other man, the one named Phiarus, cautioned. "He could surround us and prevent us from leaving." He took another sip from his wine before continuing. "Xenophon, you seem to know more than we do. What's distressing you?"

The centaur summoned his cards from his satchel and made them float as a deck in front of him, drawing the top card: The Hourglass. "We have less than an hour before they reach us."

Gordric's thoughtful smile disappeared. "Everyone isn't here yet."

"Then leave those who still have to come a message containing the location of our rendezvous point and tell one of your servants to burn it before the king's men arrive. Whatever you decide, we cannot stay here much longer."

A few seconds passed before Gordric reluctantly made his announcement. "Gather your things, we leave in five minutes."
But the Fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.
— Paul the Apostle

Winter is inevitable. Spring will return eventually, and AstralHunter with it.





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Mon Feb 23, 2015 11:03 pm
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Swiftfurthewarrior says...



Lethasa

Spoiler! :
Sorry it's a little short


Lethasa sat in the darkest corner of the tavern as usual, listening and watching. Two things that never lost their charm for her. On the dimly lit table beside her rested Gordic's letter. So he thinks I can be of some use. She mused.
She'd only considered joining his quest as an afterthought. A way to strike back at the king.
Now he left her no choice.
She was about to leave when a soldier banged his mug on the bar, sloshing ale every which way. "I tell ye," He guffawed, "I wouldn't wan' ter be Gordic when the King catches up wi' im'."
She pricked her ears. This was news.
The soldier's slightly more sober companion jabbed him in the ribs. "They ain't sp'osed to know that!"
Things quickly escalated from there. The two were on their feet now, circling each other warily.
It's high time I left, Lethasa thought grimly. She stood up and slipped out the back door, closest to the stables.
She mounted her horse, turned it in the direction of Gordic's manor, and took off, riding with all speed.
Hi
Spoiler! :
Yes, I know I need a signature.


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StupidSoup says...



Morn

Five minutes was that?

Morn had watched as the centaur had passed him, not even glancing at his shadowy corner. That tended to happen quite frequently in parties.

Soon, the group came through the door and quickly shoved their way down the stairs, the centaur leading the way of course. Morn waited for the last one, an older man with a wizened look and a spark in his eye, to push past then slowly floated after them.

Morn had his reasons for not introducing himself. First off, he was not invited and had simply slipped by the guards. Secondly, there was no need to introduce himself, not yet at least. Morn liked bargaining room, especially with a warrior who hadn't seen him in a while, probably didn't remember him, and would be indignant for being followed.

The group passed the gates, of the manor and mounted (save the centaur) then sped off. Morn simply walked forwards, tapping into his magical reserves, and slid across the earth at speed, each step bringing him ten or so yards forwards.

Time passed, the moon slipped farther up the Star Ladder and soon, the friends stopped. Their mounts exhausted and expressions grim, they quickly made a fire, Morn cast a light film of dirt hovering over the flames to staunch the smoke. It would be far worse for them to be caught by the king.

They sat for a while, silent. Nothing really to talk about. Morn's thoughts drifted. He had known Godric for a while, a long while, and this man had something special to him. Morn remembered the first day Godric became an adventurer. There was that look of excitement in his eyes yet obvious fear shrouded the boy, for he was still a boy back then. Morn had followed him from that point on, waiting for this moment, the final adventure, when Godric would shine. He hadn't expected to wait this long but it meant nothing now. He would find that Rose and he would change the kingdom for better in doing so. How? Morn didn't know yet, but he had the feeling it would be his end as the new era dawned.
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Wed Mar 04, 2015 12:27 am
Swiftfurthewarrior says...



Lethasa/In Danger


By the time Lethasa reached the manor, it was swarming with soldiers, each bearing a short sword with a flame pattern burned on it. They were garbed in red tunics, black cloaks, and leather boots up to their calves. The king of Durox's personal favorites, killers all.

She was about to turn around when the king himself strode out and mounted his grey charger. I can't leave. If I try to run, they'll drag me back to the king, and that would be the end of it.
There was no other choice.
She drew her rapier and rested it across the saddle, ready to defend herself.

It didn't take long for them to notice her. The king's face almost turned purple with rage. He yelled at his soldiers, spurning his horse forward and waving his sword aloft.
She danced out of the way of his blade and swung out at his saddle straps, severing them.
He slid sideways as his panicked charger took off, dragging him behind.
Several soldiers chased after him, but not without lines of blood showing in various places.

Only three now remained. Two of them charged forward. She slashed the first one's sword arm and cut the other's leg badly.
The third circled her warily, seeking an opening. He cantered forward, arms raising for a overhead swing. She whipped her blade up and blocked it, turning the soldier's sword aside, then ran him through.

Seeing them staggering after their king, Lethasa wheeled around and sped off in the other direction, toward the rendezvous point.
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Sun Mar 29, 2015 7:43 pm
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StupidSoup says...



Morn

Nothing could amount to the mind numbing boredom that was following Godric's party.

Morn yawned, splayed across a high tree branch, ten or so yards off from the clearing were the group sat, breaking for lunch.

They were an estimated twenty miles from old Bregenest's manor, though it felt like twice that, and the group kept a relentless pace through the wilderness, heading west towards the so called "rendezvous" Godric had set. Morn knew this place, a long, long time ago he had been there, a desperate defense, a crumbling tower.

Shaking his head, Morn hopped off the limb and strolled into the surrounding forest. He would give Godric a present, after all, it was the old man's birthday. Raising his hand, Morn summoned three rocks, rotating them absentmindedly.

Hunting was quite easy with magic. Morn simply sent a rock through anything that moved. Soon, he had two squirrels and a fox over one shoulder and was heading back to camp. The sun was at it's peak and Morn knew they would be heading out soon, the group didn't stay in one place for long. He brushed past a large red fern, sprouting nice violet flowers that stretched towards the far away sun, and had to force himself not to linger.

The forest here was infinitely more wild than the parts closer to the empire. For one, there only stumps here were caused by the passage of time and the plant life was much more diverse seeing that there were no alchemists or herbalists to pick them. Morn always found uninhabited parts more interesting than cities or towns. Perhaps that was why he did not have a home, after all, he was a travele-

An ear piercing shriek shocked him out of his revere. Just in front of him, an immense silvery being slithered out from the underbrush. It rose to it's full height, displaying all fifteen feet of it's filed scales, ready to slice it's prey to pieces.

Morn stood stock still, gazing the creature in the eyes. The Ferrum Anguis hunted by sound, it emitted a high frequency screech to map out it's environment for miles. In this way, it would be able to identify and quite literally shred it's prey into bite sized pieces. It had no teeth, why it didn't? Morn was about to find out.

The two sat there for a moment, the snake hissing intermittently, Morn slowly unsheathing his sword. His opponent shook slightly, from side to side, it's scales clinking. It seemed as tough as iron but Morn guessed it was quite soft under those scales. The question was, how to get at it.

All at once the snake spun, flinging hundreds of scales outwards in the blink of an eye. Morn was a second to slow. A scale sliced through his shoulder, sending him spinning sideways, another grazed his thigh, eliciting a cry of pain. The rest were blocked as Morn bought up his shield and dropped to one knee, barely functioning through the haze of agony.

Sensing it's prey had been weakened, the snake darted forwards, whipping it's tail out. Morn ducked the blow, and struck in return, yet his shield simply skated off the snake's silvery armor. Growling, he summoned an earth wall around him, just as the beast shook off another wave of scales. Thinking quickly, he turned the earth to sand and, maneuvering it above him, fended off another vicious strike. That's when he caught sight of it. Spots of grayish skin now pocked the snake's armor. The scales it had thrown at him lay uselessly around him. This was what he was looking for.

Bringing the mass of sand around he unleashed it straight into a weak point. The beast reeled backwards in pain and confusion. What had it's prey done? What was this burning pain inside it?

Then, Morn forced the sand outwards.

The snake exploded. The earthen ball inside had simply expanded, breaking through the soft hide. It collapsed in a heap, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Morn crumpled likewise, giving in to his wounds.

That's when he heard footsteps.
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Sat Jun 13, 2015 6:47 am
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StupidSoup says...



Morn

Through the haze of pain, Morn saw at least two dozen black boots step up to his prone body, surveying the battlefield. He heard words exchanged, shuffling feet, then he felt arms lifting him. Instantly he was alert. This couldn't happen, he would not allow it. Summoning the last of his strength, Morn raised the earth. Hundreds of stone spikes blasted up around his body, surrounding him in a cage of needles. The foremost being fell back, clutching at his skewered wrist. The others instantly raised their weapons.

Morn slowly lifted his head up and beheld his attackers. About thirty men in imperial colors had surrounded him, weapons trembling. It was the platoon sent to catch Godric.

Smiling behind his mask, Morn slowly stood, barring his teeth at the pain. Then he spoke.

"And who might you be....good sirs." He rasped.

The man with the skewered wrist stepped forwards.

"We know your hiding them." He growled.

Morn simply laughed, which ended in more of a cough, and replied.

"How could I hide them when they are already hidden?" Morn gestured to the surrounding forest.

The supposed leader futilely struck at the spike cage before beckoning to someone in the back of his platoon. The men stepped to the side as a robed figure emerged. Morn shivered, this man was a mage, a powerful one at that. He could feel power emanating from underneath that hood.

"Well? You know what to do." The leader gestured, obviously less sure than he appeared.

The hooded man simply stood there, yet suddenly Morn tensed against a mental assault. A probe of surprising strength drove against Morn's defenses, seeking a crack in his mental wall. Morn grimaced slightly, fending off the attack. He sought to push his wall outwards, ridding himself of the probe but it was no use, the mage was stronger than he in his weakened state, the best he could do was hold the wall.

After two minutes he could feel himself shuddering. His opponents hands trembled slightly.

At five his knees gave in. His opponent stumbled and put a hand against a tree for support.

At ten Morn lay prone on the floor, gasping for breath. There was no hope of winning. Yet Morn gave a weak laugh in spite of himself. There was one thing he could do, one thing that might give him the last laugh.

Smiling despite the stress, Morn let down his barriers.

The mental spike burrowed into his mind, flipping through thoughts and ideas.

Then it hit his memories. Instantly the mage crumpled, clutching at his eyes as if to drive away the images he saw. The men behind him jumped back in alarm and leveled their weapons at Morn, unsure of what to do. The mage writhed in the dirt, now facing Morn as he lay in his cage of spikes. Suddenly, the probe jumped to life, jerking erratically until it finally shut him down, seizing control of him. The cage of spikes turned to sand and fell to the ground and the soldiers rushed forwards, seizing the limp body of Morn. The mage slowly stood, stumbling and blinking wildly. Morn could see the men talking to him worriedly and the last thing he saw were the hands coming down to grab him.
I have a license that lets me solve aids - A friend of mine


Here Comes the Birdyyyy ~Poopsie


You gotta have the confidence of a gazelle running through a herd of lions - TK Sharp


I was once Numbers

Now I am Soup








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