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Decay. [16+]



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Thu Feb 05, 2015 1:30 am
Ego says...



Creator's Note - we are currently closed with a full writing staff. However, not all member have been approved and things in life happen that force people to drop out. If you'd like to be considered if spots reopen, post in the discussion thread or send me a private message.

Decay.


My Lord Mortin.

I pray that your Lordship and the Queen Ellisandra are well. I write to you because I fear that Porthaven is in peril. It has been many weeks since we heard word. Our trade caravans have vanished without trace, and three scout patrols, the same fate. Hundreds of animals of all sizes are fleeing from the West, away from the port.

A young lad stumbled, bleeding into town a few nights previous. He appears to have been mauled by an animal of some sort, though my apothecary and the hunters in town have been unable to identify the breed. I have enclosed a fang that was found embedded in his wound in this parcel. He is sickly; feverish. Any food he eats comes back up. He will not drink. My apothecary fears he is dying.

The boy held a locket clutched in his fist when he entered the city. I have enclosed it as well. My wizard insists that the locket is magical, but he has been unable to determine the origin or purpose of it. Perhaps your alchemists will have better luck than mine.

Our priest has gone missing, his church abandoned.

I know we have not always agreed in matters of the state, My Lord, but this is urgent.

Please Sire. Hear me, I beg - send help, and with haste.

Signed,
Anton Bel’Don, Baron of Bellacre.


THE CONCEPT: A ragtag band of unlikely heroes is sent to investigate problems along the coast. Along the way they will develop relationships - ones that draw them closer together or create chasms between them - and figure out what, exactly, is going on in the region.

THE SETTING: Standard High Fantasy Realm. Think Middle Earth, or Forgotten Realms. Dungeons & Dragons and the like. Dragons are big and sentient and typically evil, orcs are evil humanoids with tusks, goblins little red cousins of orcs. The primary “civilized” races of the realm are Human, Elf, Dwarf, Gnome, and Halfling (or Hobbit, perhaps), all with their own varieties and sub-races. Magic is sorted into two categories; Arcane and Divine. Arcane magic is the natural talent of affecting reality. Divine magic is power channeled to a user by any number of Deities. Feel free to use these in your character building. Magic is uncommon, but not rare. If you’ve questions when developing your character, ask. I am a reasonable man. I do not reject well-developed ideas.

MY PHILOSOPHY: I am God in this world. What I say, goes. If you don’t like the sound of that, or couldn’t handle having me correct you, don’t bother applying. I prefer to have constant contact with my writers as well as between them. If you don't have the desire to work as a cohesive unit and learn to love the people you're writing with, I don't think this is the place to be. I highly recommend having access to the chat room on a consistent basis, as well as at LEAST one of the major IM services (I think Skype is probably your best bet, as I will create a group chat there). My storybooks tend to have a TON of co-writing (working with one or more writers to form a post involving you characters) as well as a lot of communication in the Discussion Thread. Again, if this does not sound appealing to you (not just acceptable, but appealing), this is not the place for you.

THE CAST: The cast of characters will be largely dependent on the writers. There are a number of roles that can be filled by you if you need help, otherwise they will be Non-Player-Characters. There will be no more than seven Player Characters, in addition to myself. Each writer will have exactly one character. I want your focus purely on developing your persona.
- The Emissary: This character is either a current or former officer in the guard with ties to Lord Mortin. He/She acts as Mortin’s Eyes and Ears of the expedition, and as such will be a rather important part of the story. He/She may not be the leader of the group, may not even be a warrior, but is Mortin’s hand-picked emissary. Claimed by Flite
- The Healer: Lord Mortin’s chosen expert in healing. Be they apothecary, priest, cleric, or paladin, the character must have expertise in sickness, disease, and treatment of such, be it practical or magical. Claimed by GriffinKeeper
- The Guide: This character will be the group’s survival expert. Not is he/she adept at surviving in the wild, he/she is an expert at keeping untrained travelers alive.Claimed by Burrow
-The Priest: The King, being a devout man, would not allow his group to be without a representative of the Morninglord, Lathander. This character is likely a Priest, or a Cleric. A Paladin (Holy Warrior) might also be an option, as long as they are a fanatical follower of Lathander. Note - see me if you'd like to adopt this character and I'll give you the information regarding this particular deity.Claimed by steampowered
- The remaining slots can be filled as necessary, but keep in mind that these characters would have been selected because they offer some sort of skill that would be helpful in diagnosing or curing a disease or providing security for the group.

PRE-QUALIFIED: These people have first right of refusal on making a character. As I hear from them I will cross their names off, and will open up the storybook to other applications. From there I will choose and approve my remaining writers.
- @Via
- @Flite Joined!
- @AriaAdams Joined!
- @Griffinkeeper Joined!
- ANYONE from the Old Crew. You know who you are.

THE RULES: (Hat-Tip to GriffinKeeper)

- 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. That said, I expect QUALITY writing. I do not reinforce a character minimum or limit, but will definitely call you out if your post is lacking. If you're looking for a casual storybook, you need not apply.

- God-Modding.
I fully expect you to God-Mod other peoples’ characters. This is NOT a roleplay - you not only control your character, but every other character and NPC in the book. However, with that trust comes with the responsibility of ensuring that all characters remain IN-CHARACTER. If you need help, ask the writer to whom that character belongs. Hell, make a co-write out of it. 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 Storybook.
That means that you aren't obligated to stop and wait for another author to reply to your character. If you have a way to further plot that does not conflict with the plans in the Discussion thread, please - feel free. Please be cognizant of the fact that other people are posting in this storybook, so we don't want a flood of posts from two individuals that happen to be on at the same time. If you want to have your characters have a conversation, get together in chat or via IM or PM and co-write it into one or two posts.

- Creator rights.
I reserve the right to edit any post to add a timestamp or modify content as needed in order to retain the continuity of characters and plot. Please begin all posts with a timestamp in the format of name, location, and time of day. Do your best to post within the flow of the timeframe - backtracking or jumping ahead really interrupts the flow of the posts. Any backtracking should be done in the form of a flashback (the difference being that a flashback takes place in the present - a memory of a past event, whereas backtracking is literally going back in time).

- Maturity level.
This is absolutely a mature storybook. If you can't handle adult content (such as violence, language, sexual content, etc.), please don't bother applying.

Code: Select all
PROFILE TEMPLATE
[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Race:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Physical Description:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]Notable Features:[/b]
[b]Gear:[/b]
[b]Education:[/b]
[b]Pros:[/b]
[b]Cons:[/b]
[b]Magic (if any):[/b]
[b]Brief History:[/b]
[b]Role Playing Tips:[/b]
Last edited by Ego on Wed Feb 11, 2015 9:27 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Tue Feb 10, 2015 10:12 am
Ego says...



I

Preparations


“My liege,” the armored man with the waxed mustachio began. “Arrangements have been made. I have gathered a contingent of individuals from your ranks to investigate the matter in Bellacre.”

“No one terribly important, I hope - with the orcs in the North and the Midsummer festival coming up, I don’t want to sacrifice any critical resources.” King Julius Mortin, the Fourth of His Name, sat upon his favorite armchair in a simple (for a king) robe cinched at the waist.

The mustachioed man smiled, the tips curling more. “Of course not, my Lord. A Dawnbringer - no one of importance - a healer, a few thugs to keep them from being murdered on the road, some local hero that claims he is blessed by Ilmater, a couple of hired locals to get them there.”

“And who shall represent me, Duchance? I suppose I should send someone to appease the Baron.”

Aurelio Duchance shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “The only one of your official diplomats that is currently available is the half-breed. Levinier.” A moment passed. “My Lord.” He added, almost an afterthought.

The King rested his chin in his hands a moment, the tip of his nose pressed against a massive, platinum-and-ruby ring. He scoffed softly. “Sunita is overkill. She’ll have the Baron in his bed or on his ass - or both - before he knew what hit him. Is there none else?”

“No, My Lord. I looked. They are all occupied.”

Mortin sighed. “She will do. See if she’ll settle for a fraction of her normal wage.” Captain Duchance clicked his heels and bowed slightly - more of an inclination of the head than anything.

“The Dawnbringer - who is he?” Duchance fingered through the scrolls in his hands, looking for the priest.

“Hawklight, Edmunn. Morninglord Quintus recommended him. Some nonsense about needing to find himself.” The King stared at Duchance, utterly bored by his constant drawl.

“Continue.”

“Baron Bel’Don was concerned with this infection the boy had. I am not overly concerned with it, but we cannot risk another plague - not after what happened at Redcliffe. I had commissioned the herbalist, Hendrick, to accompany the expedition, but he passed on two nights previous under...questionable circumstances, to say the least. I have contacted his apprentice to serve the throne in his stead. I expect word this evening.”

“The local hero is from Redcliffe - Eron Dasria. He succumbed to the plague as a child, but appears to have survived. The people there revere him as a Favored Child of Ilmater. He should provide a boon to Redcliffe’s support of you - especially if he can be convinced to donate his wage to the town.” Mortin chuckled. Duchance was a bore, but he was a cunning one.

“I have procured the services of a man with expertise in advanced first aid practices. A...Thomas Stirling. He is gaining popularity among the peasant class for his ability to treat grievous wounds without magic. From public word he is quite gifted at what he does, and I have included him in the hopes that he might save the boy, thus bolstering your support among the peasants. Baron Bel’Don indicated in his letter than magical healing did not have any effect on the boy’s wounds. Perhaps Stirling’s practices will.”

Mortin stood from his armchair and shuffled to his armoire, resigned to his inescapable fate - that he must meet these people.

“My Lord, there is one more thing.”

Mortin dropped his robe to the ground and grunted his disapproval. He selected a pair of trousers and his Kingly vestments from the armoire.

“Duke Alain has insisted that his, ahem, nephew be included in the expedition. He feels that he may be an...asset.”

Mortin froze, one leg inserted into his trousers. “Chambers? What stake has he in this?”

“I know not, My Lord. Nor was I aware he had any siblings - let alone a nephew.”

Mortin slowly finished putting on his trousers and climbed into the massive, fur-trimmed coat. “Who is this 'nephew'?”

“I know not. He will be present in the morrow, with the rest.”

“What is Alain’s price?”

Duchance paused. “He did not name one, My Lord. ‘A favor owed,’ were his words.

Mortin nodded. “Very well.” Having the great Alain owe him a favor was worth any inconvenience his “nephew” caused.

“Thank you for your diligence, Duchance. Leave the scrolls. I will read them in time. You are dismissed. You remain, as always, my most indispensable asset.”

Duchance bowed, lower this time, and placed the scrolls gingerly on the King’s cluttered desk. “As you wish, My Lord. The audience will be held tomorrow at mid-day, and the expedition will leave the morning after.”
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Wed Feb 11, 2015 8:41 pm
steampowered says...



Edmunn Hawklight

Hall of the Morninglord, at dawn on the day of the audience


On the morning of the audience with King Mortin, Edmunn Hawklight found himself standing on the balcony, watching the sun rise across the eastern hills. It was a beautiful, if slightly chilly summer’s morning, and despite his regrets at leaving the hall and discomfort at the thought of actually meeting with the King, Edmunn still felt a twinge of anticipation for what was to come.

Had it really only been three days ago? Edmunn could still vividly remember the summons from Morninglord Quintus, how he’d climbed the tightly twisting stairs up to his study in the East Tower with a knot of trepidation in the pit of his stomach, how he’d sat before the Morninglord’s desk in stupendous disbelief as the priest gently explained the mission that the King had asked of him.

“The King needs a loyal representative of the faith to accompany these travellers on their journey to Bellacre,” Morninglord Quintus had told him. “After thinking long and hard about it, I decided that you were worthy of this honour.”

“Why me, my lord?” It seemed to be all that he could say.

Morninglord Quintus had leant forward in his seat, his rheumy eyes blinking as they focused upon Edmunn. “As you know, many of our clerics come to the church later in life. They have lived, they have loved, they have experienced the outside world. But I distinctly recall you came to us in your seventh year… how long ago was that now? My memory is not as good as it once was…”

Edmunn sat up a little straighter. “I’ve been a loyal follower of Lathander for twenty-seven years now, my lord. I have attended to all my duties with the utmost care. I have done all that has been asked of me and more. Never once have I let you down. I have devoted myself to the church and its teachings…”

“Precisely!” Morninglord Quintus murmured. “Too much devotion, not enough life. You are still a young man, Edmunn. You should be seeing the world outside the hall, outside the rituals, outside the disciplines of the church.” He held up a hand, and Edmunn, who had begun to protest, fell silent. “I am not telling you have to abandon the life – which may I add, has been most remarkable – which up until now you have been leading. This is not an excommunication. You have simply been asked to accompany these travellers on their journey, and to give them any moral or spiritual guidance they may require. Think of it as a pilgrimage of sorts. What say you?”

Edmunn hesitated. “I have a choice in this matter?”

The Morninglord’s own expression was unreadable as he gazed at Edmunn. “You have the right to refuse the King’s request,” he said finally. “But ask yourself this, Edmunn – do you really want to come to the end of your life having never set foot outside Dawnwood? Besides, you are a wise man. The company could do with some more people like you.”

Edmunn thought about it for a moment. If truth be told, the idea of leaving the Hall and going to Bellacre was not unappealing. As the initial indignation of having been volunteered without consultation passed, he began to feel a strange sense of relief sweep over him. “I’ll do it.”

The Morninglord smiled, evidently pleased by Edmunn’s cooperation. “The life of a cleric is often challenging, and I feel this task will be the perfect opportunity for you to find yourself. You will be meeting with the King in three days from now, and setting off the following morning, so you would be well advised to say your goodbyes and begin making preparations to leave.”

Three days had been and gone, and the morning of the departure had finally arrived. Now, as Edmunn stood on the balcony, he realised that Morninglord Quintus had been right; this mission might be just what he needed. As a boy, he had pored over maps of far-distant places, and had been taught many of their languages, their customs, and their histories. Lathander’s light, he’d even stood on this very spot, looking out across many a sunset and wondering what lay beyond the horizon.

A tiny cough came from behind Edmunn and he half-turned, to find Morninglord Quintus standing by the door, his head inclined in a polite greeting. “Are you ready?”

Since the life of a cleric was a simple one, Edmunn had had few possessions to pack, and his brisk goodbyes to his few friends at the Hall had been said the night before. Edmunn had never been one for drawn-out farewells; as far as he could tell, all they served to do was cause unnecessary emotions and generally resulted in an unhappy parting. He remembered his seventh birthday very well. “I am, my lord.”

“A horse has been saddled for you.”

Edmunn took one final look at the sunrise, then turned and followed Morninglord Quintus back through the double doors. In all his years of service at the Hall, he had never imagined this day would come. For the first time, he was leaving Dawnwood. In a few short hours, he would be meeting with his new travelling companions – even with the King himself. Just beyond the horizon, between Dawnwood and Bellacre – and perhaps even beyond – a myriad of new lands and new adventures awaited him.

But first of all he’d need to get to the palace in one piece…
Last edited by steampowered on Mon Feb 16, 2015 9:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.





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Wed Feb 11, 2015 11:21 pm
Rydia says...



Petra Arundel
The evening before the audience


The city folk had called it an unnatural death and wrung their hands as they told her so, or kissed the symbol of their benevolent Gods and traced shapes in the air to ward them from demons. Petra knew better. She had seen enough natural deaths to recognise the red flushed cheeks of a fever and the purple, bulging scratch from which the infection had spread, consuming his body in a matter of hours.

An infection like this could only have been caused by contact with rare plants or residues, three of which were kept in small quantities, locked in a chest in the back room. Indeed, this was a natural death, but that didn't mean it wasn't also murder.

"It was Magnus, I tell you. Everyone knows it was 'im who seen 'im off. Competitive, you know. 'endrick was driving 'im out of business, even before you was 'ere."

Petra frowned as she wrapped a candle in paper and scrawled the instructions on the side. That had always been part of Hendrick's role, after she had packaged the items up. Now she gazed at her slanted letters and acknowledged what a far cry they were from his neat, spidery writing.

"Burn it for an hour after he uses the ointment. No more." Petra pushed the package into the woman's hands and was already turning away from her.

"And what about you, dearie? What'll you do now? You're not going to let 'im buy it are you?"

As she turned back, Petra saw that the woman's gaze was uneasy and her dark eyes were full of reproach.

"Maybe I'll give it to him." Petra smirked and held the woman's gaze until she turned about and huffed out of the shop without a backward glance. No, she wouldn't give the shop to Magnus, but she might sell it to him. Without a master to continue her training, the shop had lost much of its appeal for her; dealing with the customers had always been the worst part of their agreement.

The letter from Magnus was half crumpled on the counter, but another letter had arrived at the same time and this one was far more interesting. This one was the start of an adventure.
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Thu Feb 12, 2015 2:45 am
Griffinkeeper says...



Thomas Stirling


Thomas washed the blood off his hands. There had been a nasty fight; and Thomas had arrived just in time to stabilize the stab wound in his patient. Only a small amount of magic was needed to heal the pierced intestines. The knife was removed, then it was simply a matter of cleaning the wound and stitching it up.

Constable Greybar peeked his head in.

"How's it looking?"

"He'll survive and have a cool scar in a month or so. In the meantime he'll need to leave the sutures alone and rest until the wound is fully healed."

"That's nice. How long do you need to finish up?" Thomas looked up.

"Is there another patient?"

"Hope not. They sent me to bring you up to the palace."

"I'll be done in a minute," Thomas said. He finished washing and dried his hands. He then grabbed his bag and staff. It never hurt to be prepared.
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Fri Feb 13, 2015 2:00 am
EscaSkye says...



Eron Dasria


Is this your will, my lord?

Eron knelt in front of the altar of the Broken God’s temple with his eyes closed, praying to the heavens above. He was unsure of what to do. Earlier on during the day, as he was playing with the children of the townsfolk, a messenger of the king came to send him a message: that he, Dasria of Redcliffe, was invited to join a troupe of travellers on an investigation, but first, he needed to appear in an audience.

This was different from all the other tasks he had done in past, which ranged from assisting footmen stop a war to finding a man who apparently needed immediate healing. Those requests, however, were given to him by the townsfolk and temple priests – this was the first time the royalty ever asked anything of him. When he asked why he was chosen to be part of the incoming expedition, the only answer he received was, “a favoured child of a deity is always a welcome guest.”

A favoured child of a deity, Eron thought, do they wish for my services truly as a child and champion of Ilmater or do they merely want me as a representative of my lord?

He sighed. He wasn’t sure what to think. Were his services going to be of use at all? If he was only to be a representative, would he not be wasting time which he could use instead to attend to direr situations? But then he didn’t exactly know what the problem was to be able judge fairly. Eron bit his lip.

Is your spirit speaking through them?

When he opened his eyes, he noticed the fire of the candle flick: once, twice, and then thrice. The champion understood what his lord was telling him.

“Go, my child,” he murmured.

Eron bowed then stood, letting his mind etch the image of his surroundings. It may be a while until he gets to see the temple again, and Eron didn’t want to forget a single detail: the broken stained glass windows of a crying Ilmater, worn down pews which scratched the surface of the stone floors, and the healthy green leaves that pass through the holes near the roof. The temple wasn’t grand, but it served as his sanctuary, and now, he’ll have to leave.

With a bit of hesitation in his heart, Eron slowly made his way out the large, wooden doors.

May your voice guide me, my lord, as I take on this new journey.
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Fri Feb 13, 2015 11:12 am
Apricity says...



Sunita Levenier


“Oh, these grapes are heavenly.” Sunita plucked an imported grape from its cluster, holding it up to the sun before casually popping it into her mouth. Relising it with obvious pleasure.

“Lady Levenier?” Followed by a knock.

She paused in the act of eating a grape, realizing with acute dismay that the voice belonged to none other than Duchance, the great bore of the entire court. Though he was by far, a most useful asset once she couldn’t afford to loose. Not that they’re on great terms.

Sighing with obvious reluctance, Sunita stood up and straightened the dress so the sleeves fell to the ground and adjusted the low neckline to empathize the view on her clevage.

She opened the door and dropped a low curtesy, upon standing up she revealed in the fact that his eyes had dropped several degrees lower and a clear red patch was blossoming across his cheeks.

“Lord Duchance, what a pleasure!” She smiled demurrely, lacing her hands behind her back.

Duchance fidged with the collar of tunic nervously, “Ah, Lady Levenier.” He mumbled, “I have come to inform that his Majesty had decided that you shall represent him on this expedition. And-“

“Oh, that is simply splendid!” Sunita called out with a grin, suddenly reaching forward and pull the already flustered man into a tight hug. There was a series of choked coughs as the poor man disengaged from her arms, his face so red it could be mistaken for a ripe tomato.

“Lady L.Levenier, you are also required to attend an audience to-morrow. Have a good bow.” Duchance bowed hastily and walked off with his lips twitching into a small grimace.

Sunita allowed a small giggle as she shut the heavy double doors shut, “oh, how terribly boring and stupid. Donkey-faced curs.” She muttered in a soft voice as she plonked herself down onto the chair, “another expedition with crummy food and vile taverns. How boring. As if the last expedition wasn’t bad enough already, it soiled three of my dresses.”

Her appetite apparently gone, Sunita tossed the grapes aside and glanced out the window instead.

Sunita had a vague recollection of the Baron of Ballacre, though it was best to make sure and confirm it with Mortin himself. And it had been a while since she paid him a visit, audience or not she will hear the details from Mortin himself.

She just hoped there would be at least one handsome participant this time, or else, she’d have to resort to other measures.

Again.
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Mon Feb 16, 2015 9:50 am
Ego says...



The morning of.


Mortin adjusted the wide belt that cinched his fur-lined vestment, shrugging his narrow shoulders in an effort to make the massive thing fit more snugly. The coat had originally been made for a much larger man, and no amount of tailoring had made it fit better on his shoulders.

He pulled the belt tighter and spun away from the full-height, gold trimmed mirror, disgusted with his appearance. He snatched the majestic, platinum and emerald crown off the velvet pillow upon which is sat and plopped it down onto his head.

A sharp rap on his door alerted him to Duchance’s presence. One of the double doors opened and the tall, broad man strode into the Mortin’s chambers. No other person behaved so casually around the King. Briefly it occurred to him that the King’s Vestments would fit Duchance much better than they did himself.

“My Lord; the members of your expedition have begun to arrive. I will escort them into the throne room in an hour’s time for you to address. Would you like me to brief them before your address?”

Mortin nodded. “Yes. Inform them of their goal, their wage, and their supplies.”

“And the locket, My Lord?”

“Give it to the priest. I don’t want our...guest trying to influence the cause. If any of these fools can control the bitch, ‘tis the Morninglord.”

“Is the locket not a dangerous artifact to give to such people?” Duchance raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever she is, she came from Porthaven. If by some chance there truly is a problem in the port, she will be an asset to them.”

Duchnce nodded. “Yes, My Lord. I have instructed Sunita to make Porthaven a priority if it is indeed in peril.”

“Excellent. I trust you to make the arrangements, then.”

Duchance nodded and bowed in his own way, a slight inclination of his head and a subtle bend at the waist.

Pushing the heavy double doors of Mortin’s chambers open, Duchance ignored the two guardsmen that snapped to attention and strode toward the main hall, where his hand-picked expedition awaited. The King may not have any interest in Bellacre and Porthaven, but Duchance knew that this group in particular, though unorthodox, was competent to say the least. He smiled and withdrew the small silver locket from a pocket in his vest. It spun on its delicate links, the trinket’s plain appearance belying it’s significant power.

He picked up his pace, wanting to get as much time to speak with his specialists before the King had his words.

His specialists. Duchance liked the sound of that. He smiled, his moustaches curling toward his eyes.
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Mon Feb 16, 2015 10:17 pm
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steampowered says...



Edmunn Hawklight

The Palace


“Considering the trouble we had on the road,” Morninglord Quintus observed, nudging his horse on as they entered the royal city, “we seem to have made it here in remarkably good time.”

Even though the old man’s manner was calm, and his voice showed no hint of accusation, Edmunn still felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “I thought the woman was sick and needed help. I didn’t realise she was working with a gang of thieves, or that she was going to try and drag me off my horse.”

“No try about it,” Morninglord Quintus murmured, raising his eyebrows at Edmunn’s mud-spattered robes. “She would have ridden off with your horse, and cut your throat too if I hadn’t intervened.” He shook his head. “Whether you’re a cleric or a commoner, it’s wise to keep your wits about you – otherwise you’ll end up buried at the roadside before you even get half as far as Bellacre. Too inclined to believe the best of people, that’s your trouble.” He murmured to his horse in a low voice and began to trot up the hill towards the palace.

Edmunn found himself looking longingly over his shoulder, to where he knew the Hall of the Morninglord lay just beyond a ridge of hills. But they were here in the city now; there was no turning back. With a sigh, he urged his horse forwards to catch up with Morninglord Quintus, and sent a silent prayer that he would manage to survive the adventure in store for him.

The royal palace was imposing, built on the top of a high hill with a snaking cobbled road leading up past the shops and houses to the great iron gates. Edmunn followed Morninglord Quintus, feeling the stares of a hundred curious passers-by as he rode past them on his way to the palace.

After what seemed like an eternity, Edmunn and Morninglord Quintus reached the gates and reined their horses to a stop. Looking through the iron bars, Edmunn could see the rows of fountains, sculptures and neatly trimmed hedges, and swallowed a feeling of anxiety. Morninglord Quintus was already on his feet and speaking to a guard; his horse was drinking noisily from a trough outside the palace wall, flicking its ears as the flies buzzed around its head.

Edmunn winced as he slid off his horse. He was feeling rather saddlesore.

“Edmunn Hawklight?” the guard said, taking in Edmunn’s dishevelled appearance with a look of distaste. He glanced back at Morninglord Quintus, as if to say that he didn’t think much of either of them and that if it had been left to him, he wouldn’t have allowed any priests through the palace gates. “Which one of you is him?”

“Erm, that’s me,” Edmunn said.

“Good. Follow me.” Looking bored, the guard unlatched the gates and beckoned Edmunn forward. “You’re still early, so perhaps you’d like to change into something a little more… ah… fitting for your audience with the king.”

Edmunn glanced back at Morninglord Quintus, who gave Edmunn a supportive smile. “This is where I must leave you. I wish you all the best with your mission in Bellacre. You have been a truly fine man to know, and we will all be praying for your safe return.”

“Thank you,” Edmunn said uncomfortably; after all, what was one expected to say when parting after more than twenty years in that person’s company? “It’s been good to know you too, my lord.”

“No problem. You have a piece of straw in your hair, by the way.”

Distractedly Edmunn plucked it out and followed the guard through the iron gates. He turned his head as they walked up the flagstone path, but the Morninglord had moved away from the gates and was no longer in sight.

The guard led him through an enormous marble hall and into another, smaller room, empty except for a mirror and a pile of spare clothes draped over a chair. Edmunn fingered the material thoughtfully; it was fine. Very fine. They weren’t quite what he normally wore – a baggy shirt and trousers in place of his usual robes – but he appreciated the gesture.

Pulling the clean clothes on – they fitted, which was something – he raked his fingers through his tangled hair and wondered if he could have arrived at the palace looking any less presentable. After a moment or two of fussing, he let out a sigh and opened the door. Perhaps, if he was fortunate, he might find some of his travelling companions already in the Main Hall.

Hopefully they wouldn’t care too much about his appearance.
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Wed Feb 18, 2015 11:57 pm
Seraphinaxx says...



Aleria Caldwen
Recruitment Office


"So what you're saying is if I sign on I'll be out of the city for a while?"

The balding man in front of her nodded slowly. "Of course, once you are out there, I assure you it will feel much shorter. Any family and friends won't have enough time to miss you."

She stifled a laugh at how eager he was for her to agree. Obviously it was a difficult job to convince people to leave those they cared about for an undisclosed length of time. Fortunately for him, she needed a way out of the city and didn't have enough time to look for a different option. "Fine, I'll do it."

The look of relief that crossed his face was plainly obvious. "Wait here while I fetch the contract, Miss Korrin."

Once he'd left the room, she took the opportunity to grab the coin purse from his desk, concealing it on her person. It was amazing how careless people were with their money once they believed you were even slightly respectable. She filed that note away for further reference, hearing his footsteps coming closer.

He lay two pieces of parchment on the desk. "Just sign here," he pointed to a spot on the first, "And here," pointing out the same spot on the second. She ran her eyes over the contacts, pretending that she understood what the lines and symbols meant, then picked up the quill. She traced it on the parchment, making an approximation of the flowing lines she had seen people use as signatures in the past. Aleria repeated the pattern on the other document and then it was done.

The man slid one of the documents to her, motioning that she should keep it. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. "The caravan leaves in an hour."

"An hour?" She feigned shock and annoyance. "I thought I'd have more time to prepare, to say goodbye." She left the room through the other door, slamming it closed behind her. She dropped the act as soon as she was well away from the building. She wondered for a moment how the man's superiors would react if they discovered Elori Korrin had been dead for the past 19 years, then decided that it didn't matter. By the time that happened, she would be far from Bellacre.
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Thu Feb 19, 2015 12:52 am
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Lumi says...



AnderilAndy Eventide

"Knight's log, day two...some hours and minutes after waking up." Andy poked out his chin and splashed water on his face, leering down the reflection of his sword. "In which the knight finds pesky, unmanly golden hairs sprigging from his face." He posed with his sword before running its blade along the length of his chin, splitting the sproutling beard hairs off into the hay undefoot. He replaced his sword on the loosely-boarded wall and struck a muscular pose, putting all of his focus in moving his pecs up and down the way he'd seen that one knight do back in Brill.

He made a face. "I was right yesterday. Only women can move their brests at will." Andy cleared his throat and straightened his codpiece, fitting his chain mail over his cloth tunic over his unmoving pecs. "Today is the day, Andy." He slapped his face back and forth to pump himself up and whooped in his mirror sword. "Today is the day that you show them what you're made of."

He practiced his bow. That's too far down, he thought, they may think you're reaching for a coin on the floor.

"Hmph." He bowed again, this time stopping as soon as his tunic rose above his skin level in the back, letting the cold chain mail touch his butt. "Definitely far enough. Thank you, chain mail. You are as level-headed and respectable as always."

The elf packed several things in his backpack and reached down for his plank of wood he'd stolen from a merchant's stand and the bit of paint he'd traded sword lessons for. And on the board he painted the only two words he knew how to write in the human language:

GOOD ELF



Around it he painted pictures of the different mythical creatures he'd conquered. There was the gryphon of Highpeak, the Hydra spawn of Basindell, several chickens for some reason, and his pride and joy on his list of accomplishments: The Siren of Zin Jaryti.

Within the hour he stood in the bustling streets of Bellacre with his freshly-painted sign around his neck. For some reason, the smell of the paint made people seem to be dancing everywhere. He didn't know if this was scientific or not, but he certainly liked it.

He stopped by the signy-uppy building and swiveled around a very large man, only to bump into a woman leaving the shaggy shack with a contract in her hand. "Must be nice," he mused, "not to be a wanted criminal in most states."

He stopped at the door for a moment to remember whether or not he was a criminal in Bellacre.

With a shrug, he swung through the door to a loud greeting of "OOOOOH!" from the contractors and contractees alike. Definitely a criminal in Bellacre.

"Lawrence," he called as he leaned against the counter, "I know you've told me several times not to call you Lawrence, but it really sounds so much more dignified than Lauren, don't you think?"

"It certainly would, Andy," Lawrence coughed, "if I weren't a woman."

Andy waved the thought away. "Anyway, I'm looking to get out of Bellacre. The farmer I was staying with found his daughter in my shed and, well, let's be honest--he did not like me asking if he wanted to join."

Lawrence straightened her glasses and filed away a scroll. "Imagine that, Andy. I think I have one job that'd suit your history, but--"

"But what?!" He clasped his hands together and pouted. "Please give it to me, Lawrence. I'll do anything."

"Apologize to the farmer."

"No way in the seven hells! It was a good offer and--" he lowered his voice, wagging his eyebrows, "--you know it."

She shrugged. "Sorry Andy, but that lady that just left took the last contract out of Bellacre for today. Go find her and flash her your sign."

His eyes widened. "The one with the same kind of coinpurse as you?"

Her eyes widened as she checked her missing coin purse. "Son of a--"

"Thanks, Lawrence!"

He was suddenly no longer Anderil Eventide: Elf By Himself. He was Andy: Man on a Mission.
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Thu Feb 19, 2015 6:08 am
Apricity says...



Sunita



Sunita was in a bad mood.

A very bad mood.

Though that was probably an understatement considering she chucked a golden goblet at Mortin before storming out the room. The man was an incompetent pig and she'd rather soon dunk him in a pot of boiling oil than serve him. But alas, life isn't fair. In her current stormy mood, she failed to notice that her feet had carried her to the main hallway where several foreign voices echoed down the large corridor.

'And it seems that the great and the boring has arrived.' Sunita stalked with pursed lips down the hallway, craning her head to see if anyone was handsome enough to make the cut this time. She spied what was most likely the priest, though his physical appearance reminded her more of a half-drunk soldier.


"Um... hello. Are you... are you with, I mean... are you with the expedition?"The man spoke hesitantly, eyes scanning the hallway with obvious apprehension.

Sunita smiled and sauntered over, her eyes appraising his face before once again bowing far too low for what was I needed. "I am indeed." She held out her right hand and gazed into his eyes, "Sunita Levenier, here at your service."

"Erm, it is an honour to meet you, erm, erm, Sunita." He had a slacky grip, a blush raging across his face like a storm.

'Well, this won't be hard one to bed, I suppose and as harmful as a kitten.' Sunita's mind filtered through the possible routes that could land him in her favor/bed as soon as possible before shaking his hand firmly. "And you must be Edmunn Hawklight, the famed priest?"

"Famed?" His eyes narrowed in confusion, the storm now escalating into a full-on tornado "Er... no, I don't think so."

"Oh! Nonsense!" Sunita gushed and grinned in a cheshire cat-like fashion, "everyone has heard of you." Punctuated with a sultry wink. ;)

"Really?" He took a step back, apprehension and anxiety now dominated his features. His eyes scanned the perimeter desperately for any potential rescuers and nearly sobbed in relief, when another tapped Sunita on the shoulder with an apologetic look on his face.

"Excuse me. Are both of you part of the expedition?" Though the question was directed at both of them, the man’s eyes were firmly rooted to Edmunn’s gaze.

Sunita flickered a glance at the intruder, before spinning round and repeated the same bowing-hand-shaking gesture with even more energy. "And you must be!" there was a slight pause as she scrambled for information, "Eron Dasria. Oh, I've heard the rumors the girls whisper about you. You're even more fair than the tales say."

"Thank you, my lady," He bowed politely before disengaging himself from her grip and walked to the half-petrified cleric. "Are you all right?"

Edmuun started rather dramatically before stuttering, "Erm, yes, I'm fine... erm... oh look!” He sagged in relief, finger pointing at the new arrivals. “Who's that?"

Sunita turns again and spies most possibly, the last two adventurers to this pathetic little party. She meandered over swaying her hips before bowing loosely before the newcomers. Sunita regarded the woman with an instinctive dislike, there was something that Sunita didn’t quite like in her. But all the same, she performed the same ritual on Petra before the the woman smiled and walked off to join the rest of the group.

Turning to the remaining man, Sunita flashed him a smile and grasped his hands tightly. "Ah, you must be Stirling, the famed physician.It's a pleasure to meet you, shall you need anything, let me know at your earliest convenience."

The man inclined his head politely and smiled affably, "of course, m'lady." Before walking on to join the rest of the party.

Insulted, Sunita's eyes flared for an instant before tailing the group.

Babysitting.

Lord help me.
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Thu Feb 19, 2015 7:04 am
Seraphinaxx says...



Aleria Caldwen
Sanctuary


Aleria chose not to return home, deciding that she was already carrying any of her possessions that would be of any use during this trip. Pausing for a moment, she checked inside the coin purse, a look of slight annoyance crossing her face as she saw how little money was inside. She transferred the coins to the numerous small pockets on her clothes, dropping the now empty purse on the ground. She estimated that she had about 50 minutes to reach the East Gate before the caravan left.

The apples on a fruit vendor's cart caught her eye. It was the work of a moment to scoop one up as she walked past. She ate it slowly as she walked, turning down a narrow alleyway. At the end she knocked on the heavy wooden gate blocking her way, smiling as she heard the noise of a plank being lifted up before the gate swung open. "Morning Gavin," she said to the gate guard, who nodded in greeting.

The gate was more to keep out the occasional ambitious lesser guards. Lord Mortin had a habit of looking the other way, and making Captain Duchance do the same, when it came to the Thieves' Den. The Den was a section of Sanctuary with tightly packed houses and maze like streets, a place where many of those living outside the law made their home. It was the best place to find a fence, plan a robbery or just catch up on rumours.

She had change her mind about returning home, deciding it would be best to leave a message for Rion and Fletch, telling them she would be out of town for a while. Her feet took her to the shop of the fence the three of them visited the most often. Seth, the fence in question, glanced up from his book, setting it on the counter once he saw who it was. He was once a talented thief, but he had broken his left leg a few years ago and it had never healed properly. His experience had translated into a good sense of how much stolen property was worth, making him one of the best in the business. "Tell Rion and Fletch I've got a job going on. Won't be back in town for a while."

"What, let you leave and lose one of my best customers?" Seth joked. "Don't worry, I'll pass it on for you."

Aleria smiled. "By the way, I've changed my mind about those reading lessons. Can we start when I get back?"

"I'll be here Ali. Not like I've got anywhere to go to."

She left still smiling. Anyone who knew Seth well was used to his semi-constant joking complaints about his condition. Leaving the Den the way she had entered, she continued making her way to the East Gate. She was nearly then when she found herself being confronted by an elf with, for whatever reason, a sign hanging around his neck.
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Thu Feb 19, 2015 10:30 am
Ego says...



Duchance

The Audience.


Aurelio Duchance stepped into the Main Hall and immediately regretted putting this group of individuals together; Sunita, the ambassador, fawned over the men in the room, embarrassing herself while also likely setting these same men up for a nasty fall later one. Duchance despised her process, but could not deny her results.

He sighed and straightened his coat.

“Sunita Leveniere! A moment, if you’ve quite had enough,” he called. She looked up and grinned brightly, the annoying in her eyes betraying the dimples in her cheeks. The half-elf smiled sweetly at her latest victim, one of the nameless, faceless guards that patrolled the halls. Apparently, her depravity knew no bounds.

“Captain Duchance! What a pleasure it is to see you this fine day.”

“Likewise, Sunita. I trust you’ve been making friends?”

She grinned, but it reminded Duchance more of the way a cat might regard a mouse. “Oh, very much so. They are a friendly, friendly bunch.”

He took her by the elbow - an egregious mistake by the flare in her eyes, but a calculated one - and guided her away from the group. “This is important, Sunita. It is not a game, and it is not some errand. You are the best person for this task, not the only one that was available.” She smirked. “Keep an eye on these people. Keep in contact with me via your usual channels.”

She nodded, the smirk melting away as she detected his serious tone. “Understood, sir.”

“Attagirl. Mortin will address the lot of you soon enough. Come see me after - I’ll tell you what’s going on before you leave.” As she turned and walked away, he twirled his moustache in between his fingers. He stepped toward the group, his arms outstretched with his palms up.

“Welcome, my friends, to the Safeguard. You’ve all been hand selected by the King -”

Sunita mumbled something under her breath to one of the men - the “hero,” Eron, if he recalled - and the man smirked but kept his attention on Duchance.

“ - to address a growing concern in Bellacre. A boy there was attacked by an unknown creature, and he has fallen ill was an equally mysterious sickness.”

Grim faces all around. Good. They were taking it seriously. He frowned and did a headcount - there was Stirling, the physician - well dressed and carrying his bag - and the priest, Hawklight - dressed in the clothes that had been laid out for him, the holy symbol of Lathander splayed on his chest for all to see. Duchance made a mental note to have his clothes cleaned and returned to him before the expedition left. Dasria, the so-called “Chosen” of Ilmater, stood proudly next to the priest. Petra Arundel, replacing her deceased master, stood out of place. Sunita, of course. With a sigh of resignation Duchance realized who was missing.

Typical. Damn you, Alain.

“We will have to carry on without the missing member of your group. I am certain he will join us at his earliest convenience.” Duchance mentally scolded himself for letting the venom drip from his voice.

“Come, we have prepared a meal for you all before you set out - the King will join you momentarily. Feel free to eat and drink your fill, and talk amongst yourselves until he does.”

He turned and pushed open the double doors, revealing a banquet room fit for - and, indeed, owned by - a King. The group filtered in one by one, Duchance offering polite pleasantries to each as they walked past. Sunita was last, and rather than her typical aloof smirk, she wore a scowl. He eyes burned as she walked past him, and he knew he had her undivided attention - he only hoped he would not end up swallowing poison from his own goblet before the night was through.
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Thu Feb 19, 2015 10:15 pm
Rydia says...



Petra Arundel

The flamboyance of the elf was rather amusing, though Petra got the feeling that the show was more for the males of the group than herself. If she had been better at judging people, she might even have said that the elf seemed to dislike her. With a smile, Petra continued on to where the two men were standing.

The older was brightly dressed and nodded quietly in greeting. Not a nervous quiet, but a calm and self assured presence quite at odds with his flashing attire.

"Edmunn Hawklight," he said by way of introduction.

"Petra Arundel," she replied, her eyes regarding him a moment longer before moving on.

The younger stood stiffly erect in his plate mail and had an energy about him that was difficult to place. How one could appear energetic while standing still, Petra wasn't sure.

"Eron Dasria," he added almost immediately. "Though apparently everyone already knows that."

"Not I," Petra disagreed haughtily. "But the men I cross paths with tend to be less... healthy." Her eyes lingered on his muscled form a moment longer before they dropped, disinterested to the floor. They were joined next by the surgeon and then once again by the elf.

More introductions and light flurries of conversation broke out but Petra said nothing more and dropped back from the group. It seemed a long time before an official looking man stepped forward to explain the purpose of their gathering to them.

“Welcome, my friends, to the Safeguard. You’ve all been hand selected by the King -”

Or not in her case, she supposed.

“ - to address a growing concern in Bellacre. A boy there was attacked by an unknown creature, and he has fallen ill with an equally mysterious sickness.”

Petra's eyes widened and she wondered if the expedition might actually be interesting and not just an excuse to escape making a decision for a while. For the first time since leaving the shop, she stopped thinking about it and contemplated instead the excitement of having a new infection to fight. Of course, the boy could simply be afflicted with one of the rarer maladies, but it was more fun to think this might be something new.

It mattered not to Petra that someone was missing and she wouldn't even have noticed had nothing been said. She was, however, dismayed to discover that she was expected to meet the king before they left. More time wasted on formality.
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