Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Requiem on Mon Apr 07, 2014 4:37 pm

Requiem's part in the final moments weren't outstanding, but he hoped it had been enough to help. Of course, taking out two parts of the beast certainly helped, but he couldn't help but question it. His greatest sadness was that upon death, the thing hadn't left him anything to power him up. Had it been fully formed, it might've been a different story, but as it was, no such luck.

After the behemoth fell to the ground, he made his way to the others who were all congregated around something that he couldn't quite see, but he could certainly hear. As he neared, he managed to spot the source. Spontaneous Combustion stood alive and mostly well, cosmetic damage aside. "So, what have you been up to? Don't tell me you've gotten other people killed, that'd be a downer." It asked.

The silence following was deafening. It was a subject that most of the others avoided as much as possible. Finally, seeing that no one else was going to, Requiem spoke up. "Life's full of downers. Weldar and TheTJ are both dead. Chosen doesn't mean what it used to I suppose." He remarked casually, observing the small metal man carefully.

He'd never really known Spont, so speaking for the rest felt wrong, but he was the one he expected most comfortable with the deaths of the others. He had taken some of their essence after all. He paused momentarily, a part of him considering what he could have gotten from the machine in front of him. A morbid thought.

He smiled slightly "Still, you're alive-ish, so that's a start. The way you say 'different on your part' tells me that we shouldn't expect the others back, should we?" He asked somewhat rhetorically. He had taken a part of them. Spont hadn't left any such trace so far as he'd seen. Of course, the wraithling hadn't been as well developed at the time either. Who knows what he might have missed.

His part said, Requiem went back to his usual quiet, questioning what had become of the Carsteins. He also was curious as to the situation regarding their missing comrades. So many open ends, so much to resolve still. Details of Spont's reappearance could be resolved later, but if they were to get off the island of death, then they'd have to find the others at the very least. Of course, Requiem was more than comfortable on the island, and he was going to miss it once they did leave.

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Fedaykin on Sat Apr 26, 2014 3:02 pm

The silence following on Requiem's words grew uncomfortabely. After a few moments of awkwardly staring at each other, Spont finally broke it.

„Oh...well, bummer. That is quite the downer, isn't it? Makes this whole reunion party a lot of less cheerful...“ A sad-looking cringle of steam left his tiny metallic frame.

Fed had remained silent after the robot's impressive swearing concert. His mind was still circling around the supposedly different rules concerning life and death. Were Weldar and TJ truly lost or were they just in a different part of limbo? And furthermore: what was his own place in this equasion? After the encounter with other undead on this very island, it had been made obvious, that his own existance was an exception as well. There was this connection to the demonic plane as well. How had Spont been able to save him? Fedaykin had never expected to get a chance of having these question answered, ever. Now was the time, if he could only make up his mind on were to start...

He opened his mouth, when Perry stepped out forward and clapped Spont on the shoulder, letting out a short laugh. „At least you're back now, so our trip to hellmurder island wasn't for naught. We can get all mopey and emo once we get off this forsaken place.“ The other Dutchie present nodded in agreement. „You stole the words straight from my mouth. Let's find the others and get the hell out of here. How about we go to someplace nice for a change?“

“But, but...I...?“, Fed muttered, before Sah spoke up. „I agree, I don't feel very comfortable about not knowing where the others are. I fear, that they need our help, after what happened to me back there...“

“Can I just for a sec...?“ „You're both right, let's get moving.“, Raya said. „I'm sure, that you have a hell of a story to tell, Spont, but I'm afraid it will have to wait until we're back on board. Oh, good to have you back. Seriously, this was the first good thing to happen in a long time.“ She gave him the warmest smile she was currently capable of.

“Just a word...?“

„YOU HEARD HER, MOVE YOUR ASSES! The sooner we get off here the better“ Perry took the lead with a confident stride, the rest started following him one by one. Everyone but Fed, still standing there one arm raised like a little schoolboy.

“...hello? Anybody?“

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Raya on Sun May 04, 2014 3:05 pm

The divided groups of the party rejoined, each relieved that the others were still in one piece after their long separation. Quaetam and Ansem were looking the worse for wear, neither willing to indulge on what had happened to them in their absence, whereas TD seemed to have found himself a new, coldly resolve. Now united, the members and their charges made their way back to the ship.


After the death and decay of the boneyard stepping out onto the gloom of the beach was almost refreshing. There was a palatable sense of relief that they were finally getting off the island, and if not for the dreary atmosphere and the family of monsters amongst them it would have almost been a pleasant stroll along the seafront. Requiem promptly ruined it by being the first to notice something was amiss.
 
“Guys, where’s our ship?”
 
There was absolutely no trace of the ship, and it certainly wasn’t where they’d parked it. There were no masts looming out of the fog nor wreckage bobbing on the foam to indicate a terrible fate. It was as if it had vanished into thin air. Their answer came in the form of a chubby man running towards them waving his arms frantically.
 
“HIIIIIIIIEROPHAAAANT!”
 
“Oh boy...” muttered Perry.
 
“Armen, what happened?” asked Quaetam as his friend staggered to a breathless halt in front of him “Are you alright? Where’s the ship?”
 
“Oh my friend, I am so sorry, it was terrible! The sailors, they were all spooked, and when they heard roars coming from within the Isle they wanted to leave! They said you were dead and eaten! I said you were not and that they should wait as you would all come back, but they did not listen! I begged them, I threatened them, I offered everything I owned, but still they did not listen! They threw me overboard and left!”
 
There was a heavy silence amongst the forum members.
 
“So what you’re saying,” said Q slowly and deliberately “Is that we’re stranded.”
 
“Stranded is such a strong word my friend. But yes, we’re stranded.”
 
A collective cry of dismay erupted from everyone as the gravity of the situation sank in. They were now trapped on the Isle of the Dead with no way off and certainly no chance of rescue. They were, to put it bluntly, completely and utterly screwed.
 
Lord von Carstein seemed almost amused at the turn of events “This was not the rescue I was expecting.”
 
“You’re amazingly calm about this,” observed Spont, not having to worry in the slightest about whether or not the blood drinkers in their midst were going to get hungry.
 
“This is merely a setback,” said Lord von Carstein with a dismissive wave of his hand “Come with me.”
 
--------------------------------
 
Much to everyone’s discomfort the vampire lead the party back into the graveyard. After what appeared to be aimless wandering (causing some to suspect this was a stroll before they became lunch) they called a halt before the remains of a large dragon. It had laid down and died in an open area, meaning that unlike most of its kind its skeleton was intact and still articulated. Lord von Carstein nodded his approval and bade his family to spread out, standing around the body as the four points of a compass. He indicated for the forumers to move back, halting Ansem with a hand on his shoulder.
 
“Dark mage, you possess necromantic arts, do you not?”
 
“Yes,” answered Ansem, gaze darting to the other vampires “But I-“
 
“That will suffice. This will take a lot of power and I require you to be a conduit. Come.”
 
Ansem joined Lord von Carstein on the south end of the circle, shuffling uncomfortably. The vampire spoke.
 
“There is much dark magic contained on the Isle and we will tap into it. You are a novice, perhaps this will be too much power for you to bear, but we require as many practitioners as possible to harness it.”
 
“Why not ask Q and Avalanche? They’re mages too.”
 
“They are not dark mages. They are not naturally attuned or resistant to dark magic. The power we are about to call upon would either break their minds or cause their heads to explode.”
 
“Not necessarily a bad thing,” muttered Ansem, casting a glare in Avalanche’s direction.
 
“Hold out your arms,” instructed Lord von Carstein. Ansem obliged and he continued “You will not be required to conjure, your role is to merely aid us in channelling the dark magic. The power will be immense and the more practitioners present, the more control we can wield. This will be dangerous, dark mage, for the forces we require are more than your body has ever experienced, possibly more than it can withstand. But if we were averse to risk we would not be necromancers, would we?”
 
“Easy for you to say; you’re already dead, what’s the worst that could happen to you?”
 
The vampire laughed “You’ll learn soon enough that there are worse things than a violent and gory death. Now then, let us begin.”
 
Lord von Carstein moved away to his own place in the circle, leaving Ansem standing there with his arms out, feeling rather foolish. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be doing. How exactly was he supposed to channel? He guessed he’d have to wing it. He shifted himself into a more dynamic pose to at least give off the impression he knew what was going on.
 
The vampires held out their arms and began to chant in a vile tongue. The air grew acrid and foul, even the non-magical amongst them sensing the electricity in the air. Ansem could feel the dark magic stirring around them, the von Carsteins drawing it out from the saturated earth of the Isle. It was seeping up beneath the mages, coalescing into the circle and coiling round and round like the beginnings of a tornado. He could now see what Lord von Carstein’s plan was; he was calling up the dark magic that filled the Isle, trapping and amplifying it within the circle. He could feel the mana swirling through his body and out again and realised that this was what he meant by being a conduit; he was merely a relay point, the magic becoming more and more focussed with each sweep of the circle. It was a regular thrum, a deep bass line that shuddered with more and more power as the mana grew and grew, each revolution sending a surge of energy through his body.
 
From the perspective of the other forumers a ring of green and purple light had begun to form around the necromancers. The wind within picked up, their robes billowing in a tempest trapped entirely inside the circle. A dull ringing filled the forumers’ ears as the pressure grew and the air turned stale and rotten around them. Avalanche, Quaetam, TD and Sahrimnir all grew nauseous, the concentrated dark magic around them causing their stomachs to flip and the world to spin. Conversely Fedaykin and Requiem felt increasingly invigorated, nerves tingling as the magic revitalised their tired bodies.
 
Inside the circle the winds howled with the force of a hurricane, the dark magic the von Carsteins were summoning twisting into a pulsating vortex. Ansem was pinned to the spot by the forces surging through him, every single cell in his body screaming with raw energy. The power was immense and he felt as if he could tear down the stars themselves, rip apart mountains, life and death his miserable plaything. It was a euphoria unlike any high he’d experienced, the unbridled power pushing him to the brink of madness as he felt godhood within his grasp, drunk with necromantic omnipotence and invincibility.
 
Lord von Carstein raised his arm and commanded in a guttural language. The wind surged upwards then struck down like a lightning bolt on the dragon skeleton. It spasmed from the impact and Ansem fell to his knees, gasping for breath in the sudden vacuum.
 
There was a heavy moment of silence, then the bones began to move. With a rattle the dragon skeleton drew its limbs inwards, hoisting itself upright. Its head swung back and forth as though clearing the fog of sleep, then it opened its cavernous mouth and roared. Lord von Carstein turned and smiled at the forumers.
 
“Ladies and gentlemen, our ride.”
 
“You expect us to RIDE that?!” exclaimed Avalanche, staring at the reanimated monster before them.
 
“I dunno,” said Relmitos “As mounts go it’s pretty badass.”
 
“Ansem, are you okay?” asked Raya. The dark mage was on his hands and knees, heaving as if he’d run a marathon. Despite her anger she was still concerned about his wellbeing. He batted away her approach.
 
“Don’t touch me,” he gasped, trying to control his lurching thoughts. He had come crashing down from his high, limbs shaking from the sudden loss of strength, and he desperately tried to cling on to the fading motes of euphoric power. Raya stepped back, stung, but said nothing.
 
Lord von Carstein motioned and the dragon obediently crouched down, extending a limb as a ramp. He and his family climbed aboard, the forumers following suit.
 
“This is really uncomfortable,” complained Requiem, squirming in an attempt to find a position that didn’t involve a sharp bit of vertebrae digging into him.
 
“I think I’m sitting on some gristle...” came Sahrimnir’s plaintive voice from somewhere near the back. Lord von Carstein grinned, his children whooping with excitement at what was to come.
 
“Hold on tight.”
 
The dragon roared, flinging its wings wide and leapt into the air, beating them furiously to become airborne. The resulting gale scattered the bones beneath, the cacophony a rattling cry as their mount took flight from its place of eternal rest. They rose higher and higher, the breadth of the Isle stretching beneath them, and now they could see the full expanse of the draconic mausoleum. The mist swirled over it, tendrils trailing in their wake as though to bid them farewell or to claw back their departing resident. A few more flaps and they were free, soaring high into the grey sky above. The reanimated dragon circled to get its bearings, then took off towards the south east and the cursed realm of Mousillon.
 
--------------
 
It certainly wasn’t a pleasant trip, with the forumites clinging on for dear life to their uncomfortable mount and Sahrimnir shaking like a leaf throughout. For Ansem however such trivialities were meaningless. The Taint was surging through him as he aided in keeping the dragon animated and for the first time he was tasting true power. He had thought he’d felt it before when in battle, but it was nothing compared to what he had just experienced. It was not his own magic, he was merely a conduit for the von Carsteins, but now he realised his potential, the forces he’d be able to wield in time, and the very idea sent him delirious. He could feel every movement of the dragon, each thought and whim of his mind translated into action, and the realisation was enough to make him drunk with power. He thirsted for more, knew that he was destined for this and greater. He had been given a glimpse of what he could possess, and he was going to seize it by any means necessary.
 
The water beneath gave away to land and from their aerial viewpoint they saw the vast expanse of Mousillon. Thick forest spread before them, pierced with craggy mountains and hills. Choked valleys and barren paths crossed below, the occasional hamlet clinging to thin streams and rivers visible, smoke rising from stone chimneys. The dragon descended and landed on what was once a peasant’s potato field. The rotting crop and the burnt-out farmhouse told them that the Army had passed this way before. The von Carsteins and Armen dismounted, the former bidding the forumers to remain seated.
 
“This is where we part ways,” said Lord von Carstein “My family and I will take back our castle. Mousillon shall be returned to its rightful rulers and we shall drive back the Army. Your merchant friend we shall see delivered home safely.” Armen shuddered despite himself and Lord von Carstein continued “You should press onwards.” He gestured towards the east “Sylvania lies yonder. In normal circumstances I would not recommend you to travel to the fae realm, but if this war is to be won we shall need their aid. The faefolk are peerless archers and magicians, and if you can convince them to look pass their own hubris and vanity then you will have made us powerful allies. Usually this would be an impossible task, but you have two significant advantages.” He nodded towards Perry and Relmitos “And maybe that will compensate for your liabilities.”
 
“Which liabilities?”
 
“Being human and otherwise.”
 
Lady von Carstein stepped forward “Without us to maintain it the dragon will not hold itself together long. Your necromancer can control it, but time is of the essence. You must depart.” She gave Ansem a ghastly, unnatural smile “You have much potential dark mage. I expect great things of you in the future.”
 
Ansem smirked and with a thought made the dragon rear up and roar, causing the forumers to yelp and frantically scrabble to stay on. As it flung its wings wide to take off Quaetam shouted down to his true and trusted friend.
 
“Armen, thank you for everything!”
 
“No problem my friend!” called Armen, one hand clutched to his hat to prevent it being blown off by the beating wings “Go, fulfil your destinies! Bring peace back to our lands! I believe in you! Triumph, and liberate us all!”
 
With several mighty flaps the dragon became airborne again, turning eastwards towards Sylvania. The von Carstein’s daughter waved frantically as they went.
 
“Bye Avalanche!” she shouted “Come back soon! Mother promised I could keep you if I was good!”
 
--------------
 
Although they made good progress it wasn’t long before the dark magic holding the bones together began to unravel. Despite Ansem’s best efforts the dragon started to shudder and lose altitude, dropping lower and lower towards the forests beneath.
 
“Ansem!” yelled Perry over the wind “We need to land!”
 
“We’re fucking fine!” spat Ansem through gritted teeth, straining to keep hold of the dark magic that was slipping out of his grasp like sand through his fingers. He could feel it bleeding out of him as he gradually started losing control of their mount.
 
“Ansem!!”
 
“I’ve got this!” he yelled back, still intoxicated by the raw power, desperately scrabbling to keep hold of what was left.
 
A shriek came from those on the rear end as the pelvis and back legs literally dropped off the dragon, falling hundreds of feet to smash into the trees below. Raya violently grabbed the necromancer’s shoulder.
 
“Ansem, land this thing NOW!”
 
Ansem spun and snarled, but the green light in his eyes faded as he saw the skeleton disintegrating around them. He reluctantly ordered the dragon to descend, its whole body shuddering as what was left of the magic strained to keep it together. They landed on the banks of river and no sooner had they touched the ground the skeleton collapsed beneath them in a pile of broken bones. The forumers picked themselves out of the wreckage, wincing at stiff muscles complaining at having to move again.
 
“Well, what now?” asked TD, looking at what remained of their steed. There was no way it was getting airborne again.
 
“There’s a road,” said Quaetam, pointing at a dirt track that ran parallel to the river “Sooner or later it must lead to civilisation. If we follow it to an inn we can get our bearings and plan our next move.”
 
It seemed like the best idea, and gathering their things the group moved off...all except one. They noticed his absence and halted.
 
“Ansem!”
 
Ansem remained where he was, staring at the jumble of bones he’d once controlled. The magic was gone now, evaporated away, but he remembered that power, that raw energy that had surged through his body, strength he yearned for again, strength he knew he could one day possess. One day, one day...
 
“ANSEM!”

He startled at his name, turned and saw the others waiting for him. With one final glance at the still bones behind him he rejoined the others on the road.

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King Avalanche:
Spoiler:

FUCK YOU RAYA.

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

AND

FUUUUUUCKKKKK YOOOOOUUUUU

the one time I trust you with my back and you plant a dagger in it.

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Requiem on Sat Nov 22, 2014 1:33 am

Upon their somewhat unceremonious departure from their skeletal mount, the group seemed to be in decent shape, excluding their Necromancer, whom Requiem wasn't quite sure had escaped the effects of the ritual completely considering his state. Still, all things considered, they were alive, and that was a start. The part that concerned him was what was coming. Sylvania. Sylvan. Fucking Fae.

He mused as they walked, trying to convince himself that it wouldn't be that bad, but all he could hear were the words of Lord von Carstein regarding them as Liabilities. He had no doubts that the fae that they were about to come across were just as obnoxious as the ones he despised so much. What made things worse was that he knew that he'd have to mind his manners around them. They needed the assistance, even if he personally didn't want it.

He tried to remain positive as they marched, but his mood only soured the closer they moved towards the forest realm. He found himself growing more reserved, distancing himself from the others. Instead, he focused on practising on drawing energy from his environment, draining the life force from plants and things of that nature to fuel his powers. He was beginning to be able to see the life forces of things around him, the more he practised it.

When he wasn't practising his magick however, he was distracting himself with his cards. They were the only other thing that gave him any kind of distraction. Not that there was much of anything else to distract him. The group seemed to be falling apart. Everyone was busy doing their own things, and he was beginning to doubt their ability to accomplish their task.

Night fell, and the group was forced to make camp. Requiem moved to the outskirts of the camp and traced his fingers over the gemstones that were the souls of his fallen allies. It was as though he could feel their presences through the gems.

It was while he was examining this that he noticed a faint glowing shape over in the tree line. The demi-wraith glanced at his travelling companions before quietly getting up and following the figure into the forest. The way was difficult at first, but after a few minutes, his eyes adjusted smoothly to the darkness of shadows. The figure appeared ahead of him a short way, sitting on a fallen tree's stump, looking at him curiously.

The figure appeared to be of a young girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen. She smiled and waved him over, and ever so cautiously, Requiem obliged her. The closer he got, the clearer she appeared. She was human appearing, though her features were remarkably alien at the same time. Slowly, she spoke to him, though the words did not emanate from her mouth, instead coming into his mind clearly.

"I've been watching you, Requiem." She began, "You are unusual for what you are. I have seen the way that you have been struggling to adapt to this. I know who, and what you are, and I've decided to assist you."

"And how are you going to do that?" Requiem asked aloud, finding that his voice echoed in these forests more than they should, though that could have been the result of her speaking in his mind. The eerie silence around him was making him nervous.

As soon as he finished asking, she signalled for him to extend his hand. A will stronger than his own took control of his arm, and his hand raised as she instructed. She placed her own upon it and smiled. "My name is Aleria, and I am going to be your guide."

Finished speaking, her body faded away, a fine mist moving over and through his glove, and then continuing into his body. Though he couldn't see it, a spectral raven glowed in black on his shoulder under the cloth of his shirt.

"What are you?" Requiem asked, suspicious, despite the feeling of being safe.

The voice of Aleria replied "I am one of the forgotten. Come, let us return to your comrades, we can discuss more later."

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Raya on Mon Feb 29, 2016 1:51 pm

The forumers followed the worn road through the depths of Mousillon, taking them past dense dark forests and empty fields. Although the province was always cast in a perpetual gloom, they were keen to make it somewhere safe before night truly fell. Since the sailors had mutinied and taken the ship with them, the party had nothing in the form of supplies but what they carried on them. Camping unprotected out in the open in a country full of gothic horrors seemed a very unappealing idea.

Hours later, as the gloom darkened into evening, the party were rewarded by the sight of a coaching inn as they crested a rise. It was a squat, stone building with bars over the windows and doors like a fortress, but lit up from within by inviting firelight. Filled with relief and tiredness, they pushed open the heavy door and entered.

The open plan main room of the inn was warm and filled with the heady scent of woodsmoke. Hunting trophies lined the walls, antlers and stuffed animal heads crammed wherever there was space. A roaring stone hearth dominated the far wall, the chairs around it wrapped with soft pelts that looked immensely comfortable after their forced march. Despite the room being full of patrons, nobody gave more than a quick glance at the newcomers. Aside from the gruff regulars propping up the bar, there were many groups huddled together, families wrapped in ragged cloaks and clutching small boxes of meagre possessions; refugees escaping from the Nameless Army, carrying whatever they had managed to grab as they fled.

As Quaetam still had reasonable coin on him, he made his way to the bar to secure accommodation as the rest found a spot by the fire, gratefully sinking down onto cushioned chairs and fur skin rugs with groans from aching muscles and limbs. Since the last time they’d slept they’d traversed the dragon’s graveyard, fought a dracolich and its cult and marched double time across the countryside. To say they were exhausted was an understatement.

Q returned and sat down in a chair with a wince “I’ve got us some rooms and a hot meal at least. Luckily it seems this part of Mousillon escaped the main invasion. But our gold situation isn’t fantastic now the ship left with most of our supplies. We need to be frugal or earn some more.” He glanced up, noticing the teenage serving boy was staring at them oddly. He clicked his fingers to snap him out of his reverie, pointed at the group and indicated drinks were wanted. As the boy scurried off, he continued “So let’s take stock of our situation and catch our breath. Anybody want to speak their mind?”

_________________
HG/SS Friends Code: 2364 8721 9695   B/W Friends Code: 2193 7770 9554   X/Y Friends Code:1805-2682-3033
"Foxes never lose their tricks, do they?" - Quaetman
"We'll be going about our business one day and then someone will be like "hm, where's Barda" and Raya will all suspiciously be like "WELL DON'T LOOK AT ME"..." - Rocket Admin Camilla
King Avalanche:
Spoiler:

FUCK YOU RAYA.

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

AND

FUUUUUUCKKKKK YOOOOOUUUUU

the one time I trust you with my back and you plant a dagger in it.

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  The Magician's Adviser on Mon Feb 29, 2016 4:02 pm

Mousillon probably wouldn't have been MAd's first choice of destinations, not that anyone ever had a choice. The rotund young man had been surrounded by nothing but rough, bleak men who refused to cheer up, and were not in the mood to tip. He'd begun to wonder if that custom even existed in Mousillon, much less in war time. The Magician's Adviser missed actually making money, as opposed to the (admittedly very comfortable) room and board his new "bestie" Ramsey was providing him with. However, MAd was, after all of this nonsense, still alive, and that would have to do for now.

Business at the Rusty Hook boomed that day, with the house more packed than the champion or any of his coworkers were accustomed to. His forehead was sweating from more exertion than even running around for 8 hours straight should warrant. Even so, when the sun was all but gone from the skyline, the proprietor of "The Rusty Hook" approached him out of all the servers.

"Kid, we've got a table of fourteen for you."

"Isn't it Harold's turn though?" the server protested as intensely as he would dare to his new boss.

"He's indisposed at the moment," Ramsey had supplied. Over his two weeks of employment, MAd had learned that "indisposed" meant hiding from work. "Anyway, they all ordered beer and I grabbed their food order while I was taking their drink orders. Just bring them their drinks and use that patented 'charm' of yours to make sure they don't break anything."

The disgruntled server did as he was told and only spilled a little of the drink on himself as he arranged the mugs onto an over-sized tray. Across the room he saw the pack of patrons. A wyndian, a dude in a very familiar looking dress, some dudes in some other dresses, a couple of ladies, a couple of really pale guys and a robot...wait, the fuck? It took Ken about twenty seconds to process that, by which point the man in the poshest dress noticed him staring. The booze-bearer turned a deep shade of pink and looked down and let the bill of his cap hide his shame.

By pure skill or miracle, MAd managed to make his way to the table without spilling another drop. He lifted his head and pretended not to notice how bizarre his crowd was this time. He set down the tray on an adjacent empty table, and as he turned to his crowd the smile he'd been wearing all day regained its genuine quality.

"Hey there friends, welcome to the Rusty Hook, we're glad to have caught your eye. Here's the cure for what ales you.", he dropped the first mug. "Might I say it's a pleasure to mead you guys?" At that point the server in the severely pocket-filled vest hit a deficit of witticisms and paused for a moment. "Sorry guys, I'm out of puns." He then dropped the rest of the drinks in silence.

"Anyway guys, our cooks are already working on your food, but we're pretty packed today so it'll probably be a little bit of a wait before it's all ready. Is there anything I can do for you guys in the mean time?"

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Relmitos on Tue Mar 01, 2016 10:52 am

Slouching in his chair, Relmitos kicks back to relax a bit having had no chance to do so in what seems like years, twirling the end of his whip around in his fingers musing to himself.

After hearing the assessment of the situation, Relmitos takes a small pouch out of his pocket and tosses it onto the table in front of Quaetam. "This is my, shall we say, contribution to the campaign funds. No need to thank me. In fact, don't. Keep this on the down low for now." Quaetam shrugs and puts the coin in with the rest of it.

"As for my thoughts about the current situation, I'll tell you this." Relmitos lowers his voice enough to still be audible to his companions over the roar of the other patrons, yet difficult to hear without being in the circle. "This place is as seedy as it looked from the outside, what with the bars on the windows and the like. After all that time I spent with the scum of the streets in Leknaat, you're just going to have to trust me when I say I can spot the more unsavory characters. While not completely packed, there's more then a couple of them here. I suggest making sure that your door and windows are locked when you bed down for the night. Probably sleep with one eye open. I'm not trying to say don't enjoy yourself while you can, just make sure you don't lose your wallet."

With a sigh, Relmitos thinks about his time back in Leknaat for a brief moment.

"Real talk. What do we do next? I understand where we're headed, but we're basically in the middle of nowhere in a very awful place to be to get to a place that doesn't want anything to do with most of our group. We need a plan of some sort before we just go traipsing around Mousillon attracting all manner of foes, man or otherwise. I just think we need some more info about the situation."

After a small time, the server bringing the booze arrived at the table, spouting off some silly jokes.

"Heh, alright, alright, thanks for the mead. Bottoms up!"

Relmitos gives the boy a quick look over.

Hmmm, kid doesn't look like he has very much on him. Not going to stir up any problems with that one, not worth it.

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Avalanche on Tue Mar 01, 2016 1:58 pm

The foul smells of a medieval inn never felt so inviting to Avalanche. The thought of a warm meal, shelter and maybe even a room that didn't reek of piss did a lot to improve his mood. In the past 48 hours he had bargained with vampires, saw his friends die in what became a one-on-one fight with a dragonlich that may or may not have been real and had to do everything in his power to survive on an island swarming with the undead. As an additional slap to the face, he had no other option than to fly on a second, entirely different dragonlich.
Avalanche knew being a 'destined hero of legend' was just not in the cards for him but he was the only one he'd trust to mend the wounds of those that were.

Entering the inn, Avalanche tried to weasel his way between Raya and Perry while seizing up the other patrons. Many unsavory types that he wouldn't want to cross. Three people that looked like barbarians in the corner, a cloaked figure next to the window and what may very well be a sorceress sitting at the bar. Avalanche visibly shrank, trying to go unnoticed; a vain effort considering he traveled with an undead, an angel, a tinman and a faun.

“We need to be frugal or earn some more." Q spoke, "Let’s take stock of our situation and catch our breath. Anybody want to speak their mind?”

Avalanche growled in misery, slamming his head on the table. He realized he lost the gem he snatched back in Leknaat while frantically trying to complete his trial. That probably could have funded them all the way to Sylvana. He still had a few goldpieces on him but nothing that could fund a party of 14 people. They could always steal or extort but he had no talent for that. And those were the easy options.
As everyone mulled over possible ways to earn quick coin, Avalanche briefly considered setting up shop with Sahrimnir as miracle doctors. Unfortunately, that would draw attention to them, and he wasn't about to take any of that. He needed something that was easy and quiet, legality prefered but not obligated.

A server with a repetoire of cringeworthy beer puns brought him back to earth. Annoyance had that effect on him. Next to him, Perry seemed incredibly disappointed by the size of his glass. Avalanche was happy to drink anything at that point and greedily began chugging his beer.

"Being a bit more careful with our coin shouldn't be too much of a problem." Avalanche mumbled in his glass, just loud enough for everyone to hear."Do we have enough to reach Sylvana?"

"Possibly....." Q answered. "I'm not sure, it would be pretty tight. We'd have to go over our funds"

"First, I'd like to get a clear picture of what we are heading into this time before we do anything stupid." Avalanche suggested, putting his glass down again."Are there more zombies? Werewolves? Zombie werewolves? How far has the dark army advanced and are we traveling through occupied areas? On a scale from 1 to 10, just how fucked will Sylvana be when we get there and how much of it is on fire? You know.... The important stuff."

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Quaetam on Mon Mar 14, 2016 9:46 am

Hearing their white mage’s inquiry, Quaetam nodded.  Avalanche was a sensible planner, and he was asking the right questions.  Rather than give an immediate reply, the tired Heirophant turned to the waiter.  The young man was standing awkwardly to the side, still at attention, but unsure where to best position himself.  He’d balanced the empty drink tray comfortably on his right hand, and was now looking over the party with a most peculiar expression.  Quaetam had little doubt it was their beleaguered demeanor that confused him – they’d traveled through a full day and into the night, and all were visibly worse for wear, a small battalion trundling home after a brutal conflict.

After a moment, the waiter caught Quaetam’s look and snapped to attention, briefly fumbling the empty tray in a moment of surprise.
“Can I help you?”

“Could you bring us a map?” Quaetam requested.  The waiter smiled, his cheery demeanor returning, and scurried off.  As their server pushed through a door into the back hallway, the party returned to their drinks and merriment.  The Hierophant’s explanation would doubtlessly come with the waiter’s return.  

As his companions lapsed back into conversation, Quaetam’s thoughts returned to the Isle – to the demonic mist that had corrupted them, turned them against each other, and brought their own blades to their throats.  Ansem, Sahrimnir, and Quaetam himself had nearly been consumed, forced into suicide by the arcane power that resonated in the mist.  But thanks to the Hierophant, they had survived – they outlasted enchantments that had claimed countless lives across the generations.

He recalled the terror of his vision, the demonic Shade standing over him, outmatching him.  The cold feeling of the blade in his hand, and the rising sense of inevitability as he saw the figure crumpled in the corner.  He had stepped forward, prepared to deliver his own sentence, and fulfill the promise of the Shade.  But at that moment, he had felt something unusual, inexplicable, a sensation he had encountered only once before.  At that moment, a sixth sense had awoken.  Around him, shimmering, powerful, he felt the mana in the air, so easily embraced, pervasive and overwhelming.  And beside him, plain as day, the sun that burned away the darkness, was a pool of radiant, holy energy.

It was Sahrimnir – the paladin’s presence, possibly his soul, suddenly visible to him.  In his moment of passion and rage, Quaetam’s world had changed, and he had witnessed his companion’s mana pool.  Without thinking, he seized it, drained it, casting a blinding and uncontrolled flash of holy light that had burned the mist away, and set them free.  

He had been in Dragnia for a few months now, but what he’d done was impossible by any means.  

A door had opened, and now he saw the world through another lens.  He had always been able to analyze spells and detect the use of magic – but somehow, beyond reason, a hidden barrier had lifted.  

The Hierophant looked around the tavern.  Even ordinary things had become arcane, supplanted by his new sense.  He could sense floes of magic in the air; in the earth.  He could feel the energy that bound together space-time and enriched their existence.

Now as looked over the party, as he heard their banter, he could feel their mana.  Just as easily as he felt the hard, cold, wooden chair beneath him, as he saw Tristan and Minby sharing a laugh, he could sense the mana that they wielded.  Avalanche and Sahrimnir, resplendent auras of holy light, now dim from their exhaustion and mana drain...  Omicron’s flickering flame, still small, yet to be nurtured….  Even the others, the Champions who could not wield magic, and the brutes lounging around the tavern, had a small touch of arcane essence, intrinsic to his being.

Their power, their mana, once hidden behind an unflappable veil, was now naked before him, exposed to him. It was unsettling, unnerving, distracting – as if he’d suddenly become aware of the beating of their hearts, or the flow of their blood.  

The server returned with an oversized map – a tight roll of old parchment – and Quaetam snapped out of his reverie.

The Heirophant smiled, and tossed the man a bronze coin.  Tips weren’t usual custom in Mousillon; the waiter’s eyes widened with surprise, and he mumbled a quick thanks.  

With a quick request from Quaetam, Fedaykin and Sahrimnir worked to move the scattered drinks aside, as Q and Avalanche worked to roll the parchment out – its corners kept curling back up, like a bedspread failing to clink to an oversized mattress.  Next to Avalanche, Fedaykin grabbed a pair of empty drink mugs and set them down on the corners of the map, balancing the paper in place.  Nodding at the Lich, Quaetam did the same, and the map was soon sprawled out across most of the table before them.

Most of the party stopped their conversations and turned to pay attention, aware that they were about to talk business.  Raya got up from the other end of the table, and walked over, propping herself against a pillar with crossed arms.  

The map was an ancient scrawling of northern Dragnia, not unlike the one Quaetam had brought on their journey from Leknaat.  Av’s eyes traced along the party’s path thus far; from the high kingdom of Wyndia in the west, up through mountainous Highland where they’d first encountered the Nameless Army, to the holy city Isharah in northern Leknaat, and at last to the Isle of Bones at the direct center.  Seeing the territories laid out before them wrought a realization of just how quickly they’d been moving: they had traveled many miles – and in quite a short time.  

The Hierophant waved his hand, and the air around the parchment condensed, chilled.  Small ice crystals materialized, painting three distinct paths into Mousillon and Worent.  The party realized he was marking the advance of the black tide, the invasion of their true foe.

“The Army’s assault was an utter blitzkrieg,” said the Heirophant, “Mousillon is decentralized, held together by the Carsteins’ royal bloodline.  When they vanished, the entire state was overrun before we could attempt a true counteroffensive.”

Quaetam waved his hand and the small ice markers reformed around the capital keep of Mousillon: “Dar Vallin was the Carsteins’ stronghold, and remains under direct control of the Nameless Army as a base of operations in the North.  The castle town and neighboring villages are undoubtedly under strict occupation, and I have no idea what has become of its people – like eastern Worent, western Mousillon has gone dark.”


“Where does that leave us, exactly?” Avalanche inquired with a frown, “How are we going to get through Mousillon without encountering the Army?”

Quaetam turned to the white mage as he responded, “Well, fortunately for us, we’re currently somewhere around here.”

He highlighted the eastern part of Mousillon, at least fifty miles away from Dar Vallin.  A small forest, punctuated with dark runes and arcane writing, lay against the border with Sylvania.  Five towns, each with a distinctly German sounding name, dotted the nearby countryside.  Two, Raltzberg and Athwen, were situated not more than five miles from the border, north of the forest.  By Quaetam’s indication, they were about a day’s travel out of Athwen.

“It seems this area hasn’t really seen the Army’s presence, although they’ve certainly felt its effects,” Quaetam explained.  As he spoke, the Hierophant gave a subtle nod to the refugee families huddling by the fire, “After dethroning the von Carsteins and crushing our armies and uprisings, the Nameless Army seems to have left well enough alone.  Whatever dark purposes their High Commander found in conquering Mousillon, domination and empire were not among them.”

“So we’re in the clear?” Avalanche noted, mildly surprised, “It’s about time something flipped our way.”

“Maybe,” Quaetam acknowledged, “and we’ve certainly avoided the bulk of the Nameless - but there’s no way to tell for sure.  This entire province is occupied.  The sooner we’re able to cross the border, the better off we’ll be.”

The white mage sat back and nodded, glumly.  The party lapsed into silence for a moment – Perry drinking beer out of a smashed keg, Ansem quietly ordering another – as they considered their situation.  Low on funds, deep in hostile territory... despite their overall success on the Isle, the circumstances weren't exactly ideal.  They still had several city-states to rally, and many of them felt under-levelled or under-powered for the task.

“What about Sylvania, Q?” Raya asked.

“Well, there won’t be any more zombies – or zombie werewolves,” Quaetam’s expression was warm as he indicated the forested province on the map, “Sylvania is an introverted, arrogant culture.  They isolate themselves in hidden cities, studying the mystic arts, and worhip the nature around them.  It’s pretty much what you can expect from the fae: One broken bone for every broken branch.”

Grim, Raya remembered the von Carsteins’ warnings: Peerless archers and magicians… if you can convince them to look pass their own hubris and vanity then you will have made us powerful allies… Zombie werewolves or no, Sylvania would certainly bring its own challenges, especially toward achieving their mission.  

“Sounds like they won’t be keen on our offer of alliance,” she noted dryly.

Quaetam nodded, “They don’t like outsiders, and they certainly aren’t fond of humans.  As far as I’m aware, they’ve been left alone by the Army – our enemy probably figures they won’t be a threat unless they’re bothered.  I’d be surprised if the fae weren’t content with that status quo.”

The Heirophant pointed towards their capitol, a city nestled deep into the woods, “Saphery is a mythic place – a hidden, radiant, glistening city.  It’s the true heart of the Sylvan dominion.  This map, like all others, only approximates its location.  Nobody is allowed in there; outsiders have not laid eyes upon the Crystal City for generations.”

He adjusted, indicating another city marked closer to the Mousillon border, “Hopefully, we won’t have to go that far.  Caledor is the closest thing the fae have to a public capitol.  Regardless of status, without respect to lineage, any journey to Sylvania is stopped here.”

“But how are we going to get in?” Fedaykin spoke up, then indicated each of the forumers in turn, “I don’t think one elf and a faun in our midst will make up for the humans, undead, and all manner of abominations they’ve never encountered. This won't be a warm welcome."

“We have a few options,” Q replied.  The Hierophant directed his companions’ attention back to the map, sprawled out on the table before him.  The five border towns and the large forest caught their eye.

“Our most direct method would be to shack up in Athwen for a night.  Those towns, Athwen and Raltzberg, are the closest things we have to a trade hub with the fae.  The fae guard their borders religiously – but they still need resources.  They have to deal with the outside world from time to time, however begrudgingly.”

“So we’ll trade with them,” Sahrimnir offered, eyes bright.  Peculiarly, Quaetam noted the paladin's magic seemed to flare with his sudden excitement and happiness, “But… what do we have to offer?”

“We don’t necessarily need to trade,” he replied, “but prior to the occupation, there were regular caravans that depart Athwen and Raltzberg for Yvresse, the Sylvan border settlement.  The Army’s invasion makes for an excellent opportunity: People made a living getting their goods and supplies across that border – I doubt they’d be stopped by a conquering force.”

Quaetam looked up from the map: "That’s option A: head to Athwen tomorrow, and the following morning we secure a place on a trade caravan, either by bartering, by joining the trade group, by stowing away, or as mercenary guards assigned to protect it.  We take the caravan to Yvresse, and figure out the rest from there.”

“What’s our other option?” Avalanche pressed.  He wasn’t too keen on the idea of smuggling themselves across – and as guards they’d certainly be in danger, both from the Army, and from the fae.  They’d had enough combat for a while.    

Q pointed at the map again, indicating a hilly region just north of Raltzberg, “First, there’s a series of old border crossings that have fallen into disrepair and neglect, winding through the hills and valleys by Raltzberg.  We could probably sneak across one of those, but we’d have to be careful – we’d be travelling a treacherous route in broad daylight.”

He indicated the sprawling forest south of Athwen. “Alternatively, see that forest, pressed up against the Sylvan border?  That’s Dreswald.  Mousillon civilians avoided it like the plague; it’s haunted, so the Army and the fae probably won’t set up a garrison,” the Hierophant explained.  

Seeing Raya’s look of skepticism, he gave her a glance and chuckled, “Hey, don’t give me that.  It’s not… that haunted.  It’s pretty much run of the mill for this province.”


“Either way,” he concluded, “once we get across we’ll have to consider our next options, but if we want the fae alliance in this war, we essentially have to get to Caledor, and then we need a reason to be there.  If we aren’t going as traders, we’ll probably have to masquerade as prisoners; Relmitos or Perry could claim to be our captors.”

“So what do we think?” Quaetam looked up, addressing the party at large, “Option A: head to Athwen tomorrow, and secure a place on a trade caravan.  Option B: head to Raltzberg tomorrow, and traverse a rundown trade route to cross.  Option C: find our way through Dreswald, and into the fae lands.”

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Relmitos on Wed Mar 16, 2016 7:35 am

After mulling over the details of the possible plans of actions and the situation at hand for a few minutes, Relmitos chimes in with his opinions on the matter.

"My two cents on our available options would be, in order, C, A, then B. I suggest such for a few reasons. For a start, if the Fae and the Army aren't going to be there because they're afraid of ghosts, that's two enormous obstacles that would be in our way, that are not in our way all of a sudden. Granted the Army has moved on, so that may not be that big a deal anyway, but there may be small regiments we aren't aware of wandering around. Sure we will run into the Fae sooner or later because that's why we're here in the first place, and I don't know about you guys, but not getting stabbed in the back by the Army while we've got the Fae in front of us sounds like a good plan to me. With C we also don't need to hope that some of those traders over at Athwen are good Samaritans and just decide to help us get in. Bartering with them to get in? You said it yourself, Q. We don't exactly have that much funding on us, we don't exactly have much to barter with in the first place. Stowing away with them? I could do that by myself no problem, but everyone? I don't think so. Going as a mercenary group? I'd half suspect the Fae would think we were going in to attack them, and that would be bad, especially considering what we we're actually trying to do.  But B? That just sounds like it's asking for trouble. Old, abandoned buildings that no one uses anymore? Passing treacherous land in broad daylight? That's asking to get ambushed by thugs. We could probably handle them if they actually exist given what everyone is capable of, granted, but I'd prefer not even risking it. I say C is our best bet. Admittedly I partly say C because 'haunted' areas tend to also be dark, shady places and my own abilities work better in such a place, but given what I've been saying I do think it's legit the best play."

Sitting up in his chair, folding his arms across each other on the table and leaning forward, he continues.

"Aside from that, something you said earlier concerns me. You said that the Army passed through Mousillon and conquering it, and did *nothing* aside from destroying things? There has to be a reason. While it may not be something that we have time or the info to adequately figure out why they did so, it shouldn't be something we push to the side and forget about. If I had to guess, I would bet they were in a hurry, and Mousillon was between them and their destination. Doing what they do, they left destruction in their wake and proceeded to where they want to be. It's no good, that's for sure. Alas, like I said, it's not really something we can figure out right now. We do need to decide how to get where we want to go."

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  The Magician's Adviser on Wed Mar 16, 2016 1:53 pm

Additional Credits:
Huge thanks to Q for editing my post and making it not terrible, this following post is basically as much him as it is me

The Poshest Man's kind gift of coin made MAD feel like dancing, so he did. Fortunately, his uncoordinated gyrating and flailing went largely unnoticed by the weary travelers pouring over their map - although he caught Ramsey shaking his head from the back.

The server should've moved on that point, but curiosity compelled him to listen in. He watched as the robed man had explained their situation; the more he listened, the more hopeful he grew, if slightly confused. When their plans were revealed, he was outright beaming.

"Excuse me, and sorry for overhearing," he added politely, "but I think I may be able to help. Relations with Sylvania might be a bit easier to manage if you don't start with a lie. Ramsey, the innkeep, has a trade partnership with an elven vineyard across the border. He makes occasional trips there to supply vintage for his ritzier clients. Luckily for you guys, we had a few heavy drinkers with more coin than sense about three days ago, so we might be due to restock. If he needs to travel to Sylvania, I might be able to set you up as part of the trade mission."

By the time he finished, the entire party was giving him a look. Their looks carried everything from suspicion, to surprise, to mild amusement. MAD cowed slightly as he asked, with a smile, "Shall I grab the innkeeper for you?

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Requiem on Thu Apr 07, 2016 9:26 pm

Requiem, for his part during the conversation, remained quiet. He had nothing in particular to add, other than he personally believed that the cart route was their best bet, but he kept that to himself. He had been focused on his own particular situation. During the fight with the necro-dragon, despite Q's warnings, he'd gone all out. Not that he wasn't justified in it, they were a dracolich, and a small army of necromancers, but still, as things were, he was waiting for the whiplash effect. Curiously though, he felt better rather than worse.

The only thing that drew his attention away from his thoughts were the painful puns of the human in front of them. The more the kid bounced about, the more annoyed he became until something dawned on him. "Hey Kid. I'm gonna take a wild guess and say your name is Ken. Am I wrong?"

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  The Magician's Adviser on Thu Apr 07, 2016 9:34 pm

MAd's bemused, if hopeful smile flattened out to a more neutral, bemused expression. He quickly glanced down to make absolutely sure he wasn't wearing a name tag. "Why, yes sir, it is. How, by chance, did you guess that? Is it because I'm so....'Ken-tastic'?!" crickets might have actually chirped that time. He glanced about the table where apparently nobody was having it, so the server switched back from his shit eating grin to a more serious face. "Though seriously, how would a seasoned adventurer like yourself know my name? I"

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Requiem on Thu Apr 07, 2016 10:24 pm

As soon as the kid began talking, Requiem stood up, stepped over to him, and cuffed him along the back of the head. "Sit down Ken. And quit telling puns or I swear I'll stab you in the kidney." He said in irritation before turning to the rest of the group. "Looks like found another forumer. Everyone, meet The Magician's Advisor. Pun making pain in the ass and person who was a regular gm and player in most of the tabletop games I've done." He sat down and looked at him. "I see you've been keeping busy here." He said, almost disdainfully, given that they had been fighting and dying while he was here waiting tables.

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  The Magician's Adviser on Thu Apr 07, 2016 10:36 pm

The Magician's Adviser had not adapted to the art of war, so when the big bad wraith went upside his head, he recoiled, more from shock than actual pain, and out of nowhere a beige little Kirby imitator by way of Marvin the clinically depressed robot sprang from seemingly thin air.

"Jesus, dood, some warni-wait. Y-you're Requiem, right?" MAd cried a bit louder than he intended to, then sprang into a hug. "Oh my God, how did you get here, man? This is unbelievable I swear, this must be a....Requiem for a dream?"

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  TD260 on Fri Apr 08, 2016 12:15 am

TD felt like shit.

His legs ached from straddling a bone dragon, his hands were scraped and sore from holding his blade and keeping a tight grip on the monstrosity as it flew through the air, and there was a soul-deep chill that settled in back on the island that nothing could coax out of him.

He sat at the far side of the table, sulking in the corner next to the fire with a mug of ale in his hand. It wasn't really his kind of thing to get alcohol like this, but this evening he felt like he earned it. Or felt like he needed it. He wasn't sure which.

Across the table from where he was sitting, Minby gave him a side-long look of disapproval; for what, TD wasn't sure.

Is he giving me that look because I'm drinking? Or because I'm drinking horrible booze? TD mused.

Taking another deep pull from the tankard, TD grimaced as the bitter liquid washed down his throat. He closed his eyes, and let the chatter and bustle of the inn fade away to a dull roar. At the other end of the table, he could hear Quaetam saying... something about the map? Or trade routes? It was hard to hear, and his head was just so tired, his eyes too heavy to keep open. He knew it was something important, something that he should listen to, and yet... he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Whether it was mere moments or an aeon later, TD stirred. Cracking one leaden eyelid, he could see that everyone had turned to give their attention to... Requiem? Requiem. Everyone was staring at Requiem. And he was gesturing towards one of the serving staff that was standing besides him. Or... no, that wasn't a gesture, based on the wince that the boy had made. Requiem had slapped him upside the head. Groggily, TD sat up, in order to catch Requiem stating that the serving boy was actually A Magician's Advisor? Or...

"Oh god dammit." TD muttered to himself, and closed his eyes again. He could deal with the fact that the group had picked up a new recruit eventually, when his head stopped hurting. When he didn't feel so tired and empty.

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Raya on Tue May 03, 2016 12:53 pm

Spoiler:
It's a rubbish reworking of my abandoned rubbish post, but oh well, gets things moving Razz

After discussion, the consensus was that the best plan was to go with the caravan. Luckily his impromptu work experience in a fantasy bar had given MAD plenty of practice in setting up adventurers with interested parties, and it wasn’t long before he’d introduced them to a group of merchants sitting on the other side of the bar. They were enroute to Athwen to trade metal ingots for elven goods, and were more than happy to hire some bodyguards for the final stretch. The plan was to leave at first light, and hopefully make good time to the border.

After the food arrived (and was quickly devoured), the party dispersed. Some retired to their beds, others stayed up just for the rare chance of socialising and relaxing. Ansem was propping up the bar, chatting to a woman with wild red hair and a scowl that could repel a bear. Avalanche excused himself and went outside for some air. Although the sun had set the night was still pleasantly warm, the distant mountains and pine forests picked out by the dazzling silver light of the full moon. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep the fresh air, letting it clear his head from the fug of tiredness and the stress of the day.

“Evening, white mage.”

He startled at the interruption and looked around at the source. Approaching him, having also left the bar, was a young man. He was dressed like a woodsman, with pale hair, an easy smile and a rugged handsomeness that likely made all the village girls swoon. The man smiled and joined him.

“Nice night, isn’t it?”

“Mm,” concurred Avalanche, wondering why this stranger was trying to engage him in conversation.

“Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but…” he held up his hand, revealing a minor wound on it, and nodded at Avalanche “Mind if I bum a heal, white mage? Sorry to ask, but in my line of work I can’t afford to risk infection.”

As far as Avalanche was concerned it wasn’t even worth a magical heal; it was more of a shallow bite, something a bandage should suffice for. But tired as he was such a small injury wouldn’t take much effort, and he obliged with a quick tap of his staff. The woodsman marvelled at his newly healed hand, sniffed it as if it were something new and strange, and broke into a broad smile.

“The wonders you see, eh? Now, I’ve got something to ask you, white mage. You and your friends were thinking of heading into Sylvania, right?”

That certainly got Avalanche’s attention. He had thought they were keeping their voices low for privacy when discussing their plans…apparently not, if this woodsman had somehow overheard them over the hubbub of the bar.

“Now see here, I’m going to offer you Option Number 4. I know these woods like the back of my hand, there’s trails that aren’t on any maps. I’ve helped refugees flee through here out of Mousillon. If you like, I can take you and your friends through there, avoid the trouble of the main roads.”

Avalanche frowned; this whole thing seemed too good to be true “So why exactly are you telling me this? Why didn’t you speak to the group?”

“Would you trust someone who just interrupted your discussion to say he could take you round the back route?”

“Point taken.”

“Besides,” the woodsman smiled “Why should I waste my time on those who didn’t earn it?” he held up his healed hand “You’re a good man, white mage, and that deserves to be rewarded.”

Flattery was certainly warming Avalanche up “Well, I’d have to discuss it with the others…”

“Of course, of course,” the woodsman looked up as the door to the bar opened “Speak of the devil.”

Avalanche glanced round to see Raya, looking like she was searching for something. She spotted him and started forward “Oh hey, Av, what are-“ she froze in her tracks as she suddenly saw the woodsman.

“Good evening my dear,” said the woodsman with a wolfish grin “We were just talking about you.”

“He says he can take us through the woods to Sylvania, avoid the main roads,” explained Avalanche “That it should…” he tailed off, suddenly noticing that Raya hadn’t budged. She was still staring at the woodsman, feet slightly apart and fists clenched, as though she couldn’t decide whether to fight or run. He glanced back at the woodsman, who was standing there with jocular ease, then back at their leader “Raya, you okay?”

“Come inside, Av.” She finally broke eye contact to look at him “Come, now.”

Avalanche was baffled, but there was something about the tone of her voice that made him realise something was definitely wrong. He turned back to the woodsman “Thanks, I’ll raise it with the others.”

“No problem, white mage. You ever need my assistance, the woods are full of ears. Just howl for Michael Vinters, and I’ll come running.”

Avalanche nodded and joined Raya, who to his surprise roughly seized his arm and practically dragged him away back into the inn, narrowly avoiding the red haired woman who was leaving. The door clicked shut, the redhair moving over to the woodsman.

“The dark mage is definitely him,” she said.

“And he’s our white mage,” agreed Michael. “We’ve got them both.”

“I can call the others now, we can take them before they’ll know what hit them.”

“No. Do not underestimate them, Rin. They’ve manage to come this far, they’re stronger than you suspect. They have secrets we were not aware of.” Michael’s eyes narrowed “We need to thin the herd on both sides. I have a plan.”

He cocked his head, and the two of them disappeared into the dark woods.

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King Avalanche:
Spoiler:

FUCK YOU RAYA.

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

AND

FUUUUUUCKKKKK YOOOOOUUUUU

the one time I trust you with my back and you plant a dagger in it.

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Avalanche on Tue May 17, 2016 1:32 pm

Geesh, not so rough.” Avalanche groaned as Raya dragged him along. He struggled to keep up and nearly tripped over his robes. “What was that about?”

“Inside,” she growled, “now.”

She practically shoved him back to the inn and slammed the door shut. Peering through the window, she could see little but an empty field and an eerily dark forest. Both Michael and the red haired woman that joined him were nowhere to be seen.

“Are you hurt? Did he do anything to you?” she asked, pressing her forehead against the glass in an attempt to see farther.

“What?” Avalanche cocked his head to the side. He was surprised to see her so tense. ”No, nothing happened. He just offered us a way into Sylvania, which--”

“We’re not taking that.” she furrowed her brow and began pacing back to the main hall.

“Why not?” he asked genuinely confused, following behind her. ”Raya, he was going to help us.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute. There was something…wrong about him.”

“Wrong?”

“I don’t know, it was something about him,” Raya waved her hands vaguely in front of her “Bad vibes.”

“Bad vibes?” he scoffed and went to retort, when he remembered the sensation of dread he’d felt in the presence of Lady von Carstein. He’d felt nothing of the sort with the woodsman “He didn’t seem like a bad person…”

“I don’t know,” Raya glanced around the bar, suddenly feeling self-conscious in the safety of the inn “I just…something sent me off about him. Eesh, I probably sound crazy…”

"Crazy is kind of the standard operating procedure around here." Avalanche rolled his eyes. He hated this world and all of its fantasy rules, he really did. They briefly observed their party socialize. Perry and Ansem were drinking more than any regular mortal should be capable of and Quaetam seemed to be explaining his plans to Relmitos, Requiem, the newest addition to their party MAD, and a very groggy TD. Avalanche couldn't spot the rest; Minby, Camilla, Feday, Spont and Sahrimnir and just assumed they had already retired for the night.

"Do you think I'm being crazy?" Raya asked. He blinked surprised, realizing that he had been quiet for a while.

"What?" he stammered, "No, no, that's okay. I mean I didn't feel....but...." she tried to stiffle a snicker as he was searching for his words. "Look, we'll just... go with the plan to travel by potentially haunted grounds and possibly get our ass haunted."

"You mean travel by caravan and possibly get into a tussle with some brigands." she corrected with a playful smirk.

"I meant travel by caravan and tussle with brigands." he sighed with a smile. After getting a better look of their opposition he had been pretty pessimistic about their chances of getting out alive. Even with the offer of the kind woodsman, he was pretty sure they'd meet opposition whatever path they'd pick. It just seemed to be that kind of world. With the recent additions of Spont and MAD however, he felt an ever so slight increase of their chances and closely working together with Raya.... Things could have definitely been worse.
His thoughts briefly wandered to past events and how they never really talked about what transpired between them before her voice snapped him out of it.

"We're leaving in the morning, if the Magicians Advisor found merchants that could use the extra hands." Raya nodded."So we should probably take what little rest we can take now. I'm not sure our stay in Sylvania will be quite as comfortable."

Raya wanted to get up but Avalanche grabbed the hem of her sleeve. She looked a little surprised and stopped in her tracks as if daring him to speak his mind.

"Just ask the thing Avalanche..." he thought to himself.

"Do you...." he began.

"Just ask her about that night. Come on, do it. We are both responsible adults."

"Are you....." he corrected.

"No one is even paying attention. Ask and you know."

"Are you sure you are feeling alright?" he blurted out.

"Asshole!"

"Well, I'm sore, but otherwise alright."

Avalanche blinked, bewildered by the answer "What?"

Raya rolled her eyes good-naturedly and pulled open her collar, giving him a glimpse of the blackened flesh on her shoulder "I got the shit kicked out of me remember, of course I'm still sore."

"Oh, yeah... I mean, I can help with that if it gets worse but yeah... Sleep is good." He realised she was staring pointedly at him and the words promptly failed to materialise "I actually meant the, um, thing with the, uh..." he finally blurted it out, not nearly as confidently as he'd hoped "...festival?"

You could have cut the silence with a bread knife. It stretched on for long enough that Avalanche began fidgeting in his robe, before Raya finally spoke and broke it.

"That was me being drunk and angry, and taking it out on you. It was a mistake and nothing more. Just be glad it didn't go further."

Avalanche was stunned for a second, suddenly hit by a pummel of conflicting emotions. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then finally got something out.
"So uhm... Was it a good mistake?"

Oh smooth move, idiot.

Raya's expression softened "I'm sorry Av, it was wrong of me to drag you in to things. I shouldn't have done it, and I'm sorry for making a mess of things. I...should have been more careful." Her gaze flicked for a split second at something behind him and back again "Let's call it there. I'm needing a warm bath and a soft bed, I've got some HP recovery to do." She smiled as she said that, but even he could tell the joviality was faked.

"Yeah, no, that's cool." he mumbled as she walked past him."Glad we cleared that up."

His expression soured the moment she was out of sight. With a sigh Avalanche rested his head against his one hand and asked for a drink with the other. The world around him seemed muted. He didn't notice Sahrimnir greet him, he certainly didn't notice Ansem's shit-eating grin and he didn't notice the shadow swiftly moving past the window....

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Raya on Fri May 20, 2016 1:26 pm

Spoiler:
Poor Av just got friend zoned HARD Razz

Raya retired to the upstairs quarters, preparing for- at long last- a nice hot bath. She noted wryly that she seemed to be gathering quite a collection of scars over this journey; there were the stab marks from Ximeness’ blade, a couple of arrow holes, and she still had the faded bruise on her stomach from where Quaetam had blasted her at short range with his ice magic. It felt like an age ago by now. <The perils of being a front line fighter, I guess.>

The warm water was so soothing she half expected a healing jingle to sound. She tried to relax- she was sure she wouldn’t get many moments like this in the future- but her thoughts were elsewhere. She hadn’t been oblivious to that look of hurt on Avalanche’s face, nor in the sound of his voice. It had hurt her just as much. But, as she told herself, it was for the best. She had to distance herself from all this, for the sake of the party. She couldn’t risk upsetting things even further for her own selfish agenda. She had a job to do, and she couldn’t keep them safe if she set them all at each other’s’ throats. It was a terrible thing to do to Avalanche, and she felt awful about it, but it was for the greater good. Or so she told herself.

Bath over, Raya dried and got ready for bed, noticing as she did the polished silver shield that acted as a mirror on the chest of drawers. Going up to it, she held up her hand, looked at her reflection and back again. She distinctly remembered feeling- and seeing- her hands grow claws back then. It must have been a defence mechanism but, by that logic…could she do it willingly? The thought of losing control again filled her with dread and revulsion, but at the same time, it was the morbid fascination of the forbidden fruit. As horrifying as her actions were, it had to be admitted, the power was pretty intoxicating.

She concentrated, not entirely sure what she was supposed to be doing. It was hardly the life-or-death situation or the moment of extreme emotional distress that had triggered it before. After fruitlessly posing her hand about for several minutes, Raya reluctantly decided that the emotional route was probably the most productive one. She began to think of various topics that had annoyed her- and given certain recent events, she had plenty of material. Anger began to pulsate, red and hot, and it took a simple thought to direct it into her hand. She watched with bile fascination as her nails began to morph into jagged claws, muscles thickening to support the lethal force…she panicked and shook her hand, dispelling the transformation, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind that whined at its denial. No, this was too weird, too creepy and too dangerous. And yet…

She leant in closer to the mirror and pulled back her lip. Concentrating again, she saw her canines begin to lengthen, the molars distort into points, felt the jaw cracking and creaking as it stretched to accommodate the new fangs-

BANGBANGBANG

Raya squeaked, jumped and promptly bit her tongue in surprise. The door opened and TD came through.

“Oh hey, Raya, I was…are you alright?”

Raya was hopping from foot to foot and clutching her mouth. She smiled awkwardly.

“Yoo maade meh bit ma tong.”

“Oh, uh, sorry?”

“Bleh.” Raya clicked her jaw back into place, human again “Not your fault I guess. What’s up?”

_________________
HG/SS Friends Code: 2364 8721 9695   B/W Friends Code: 2193 7770 9554   X/Y Friends Code:1805-2682-3033
"Foxes never lose their tricks, do they?" - Quaetman
"We'll be going about our business one day and then someone will be like "hm, where's Barda" and Raya will all suspiciously be like "WELL DON'T LOOK AT ME"..." - Rocket Admin Camilla
King Avalanche:
Spoiler:

FUCK YOU RAYA.

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

AND

FUUUUUUCKKKKK YOOOOOUUUUU

the one time I trust you with my back and you plant a dagger in it.

Raya
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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  Relmitos on Fri Jun 03, 2016 4:43 am

Relmitos looked around the table, having finished talking about the plan for the trip into Sylvania, telling everyone good night. He had finished his booze and his meal which was painfully bland, but as they say, hunger is the best spice so it got devoured anyway. Pushing back away from the table, Relmitos gets up and headed upstairs towards his room where he would retire for the night. Getting to the top of the stairs, he turns down the hall and looks down over the rail to look upon the bar area once more before bed. Examining the floor below, he looks around to where his friends are.

Heh, imagine that. After all we've been through, despite me missing about half of it, fighting for our lives to save this land we know nothing about, that has treated us all unfairly in one way or another, we have a moment like this. This moment that I got to enjoy with these people I've previously only been able to 'talk' to over the internet, have come to relate them as looking like their avatars more then what they actually look like, was pretty fun, aside from the business talk. Getting to talk to them face to face, joke around, share a meal with, that sort of thing. This only reaffirmed the fact that I do not want to abandon these guys. I won't say I wouldn't want to change this moment at all, but it could be worse.

Eyes straying from the group of friends, his eyes land on Avalanche.

Well......maybe not for Avalanche. I'm not going to pretend to know what's up but he looks PRETTY unhappy. Not going to dwell on that one to much. Probably not my business, and if it IS my business he'll let me know. I would hope.

Lost in thought, Relmitos barely noticed the fellow shambling up to his side. One look at his face, you could tell that he was plastered. He remained standing only by slumping against the wall. Clearly this man was completely out of his mind, and unfortunately he also clearly wanted a word.

"Well, lookit you!" he shouts, unable to control the volume of his own voice at the moment. "Shome pointy eared elf bashterd. Whatchu doin round here, shlummin with us 'inferior beings'? Ain't got any good beer over behind all those trees? That it?"

Taken aback by the bluntness and racial tones of this man, Relmitos took a few seconds to respond appropriately.

"No sir, I'm just passing through with my friends. I shan't be here longer then the night. I just needed a place to stay, you see, and this was the only place we could reasonably lodge."

Staring at the elf with an odd, quizzical look on his face, the man finally comprehends the response he was given enough to respond in kind.

"WHAT?! You needed a place to shtay? Don't you live RIGHT over there, beyond those treesh or shumethin?"

"It's a tad farther then 'those trees' I'm afraid. Sylvania is a bit further off then that."

"Why don'tcha jus make yer own lodgin? Can'tchu jus shape trees and bushes in ways you shee fit?"

"I'm afraid not, if only it was that easy."

"What? Whaddya mean 'no'? Every elf I've ever seen has been able ta do tha'."

"Is that so? I must excuse myself then sir, I have some things I must attend to. Pleasure talking with you."

Relmitos turns and walks off toward his room in a hurried pace with concern on his face.

"Haha! Hey George! Did you know that thar wuz an elf who couldn' fool with tha trees? I jus met one!"


Hearing that last shout only compounded his worries. Leaving the drunkard behind, Relmitos reaches his room, locking the door behind him. Flopping down on his bed, a flurry of thoughts go through his head.

Oh man oh man oh man, what am I going to do? Is that guy right? Or was he just SO drunk off his ass that he was making stuff up unintentionally while I was talking to him? 'Shape trees and bushes in ways I see fit'? At a guess I'd say nature magic. 'did you know that there was an elf who couldn't fool with the trees?' That would imply that every elf he's ever seen, however many that possibly would be given what I know, has been able to cast nature magic. Considering where I'm going tomorrow, for what purpose, and the likelihood of what I'm going to need to do, I'm afraid I must assume the worst and that every elf ever can cast nature magic based on what he just told me. That's a problem. I...........I can't cast nature magic. As far as I know.......

Relmitos looked around the room and saw this flowerpot with a single flower in it.

Well........it can't hurt. What's the worst that could happen? I suppose being unable to control the thing and turning the flower into a man-eating flower yelling "FEED ME, SEYMOUR!!! FEED ME!"

Pushing those thoughts aside, he raises his arm up, pointing towards the lone flower, palm open, eyes closed. Concentrating on the flower with an image in his head to turn the flower into a rose. He continues on like this, straining for three minutes trying to have some effect on the flower. When he opens his eyes, he examines the flower closely. Nothing. It didn't even budge. Relmitos becomes slightly panicked about the future at this point.

Well shit. I didn't think so. Even if I could do it, I doubt I could master it fast enough to be passable at it compared to elves that have been doing it their whole life. I'm afraid all I can do is shadow magic. That's not exactly NATURE magic. I've got mad whip skills to go along with it, but.........whips? Most elves I know use bows, lances, and glaives. Holy shit there's no way I'm going to pass off as an actual elf. They're going to find out I'm not truly an elf in NO TIME. Can this be though? What can I do? The party is more or less depending on me solely because I AM an elf right now. If I can't pass as an elf, what am I going to do? I can't let everyone down!

Sighing, Relmitos brings a hand up to his ear and runs his hand along the outside of it, feeling the long, pointed edge.

Yeap, I do LOOK like an elf, but at this moment, that may be it. I need info, I just need....anything, really. Can they all actually cast nature magic? or are there some who are unable? Is it truly just me that cannot because I'm not actually an elf?

Taking a deep breath, Relmitos lays back on his bed on top of the sheets, staring at the ceiling.

I need some time to think about this.

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  TD260 on Fri Jun 17, 2016 5:55 pm

TD stood in the room awkwardly as the embarassment from surprising raya kicked his uncertainty into high gear. His face flushed as he began to stammer out a response.

"well uh. I just wanted to... Just needed to..."

TD sighed, and looked down at the floor of the room.

"I needed to talk some stuff out. Vent, mostly."

Raya sat down on the corner of her bed, looking at TD.

"Vent away, you're already here." She said, waving a hand towards the younger man.

TD opened and closed his mouth a few times, a thoughtful look on his face, before he shook his head and began to speak.

"The problem is Kyle. Or it's not Kyle, it's me, but about Kyle. Or... It's us?"

He began hesitantly, but his words soon sped up, tumbling out of his mouth as he continued his thoughts.

"It's like... nobody is really who they are. You're Raya, but you're not really Raya. There's something... off... about you. Something different."

Raya freezes up, her heart suddenly in her throat and all too loud.

Does TD know about... no, he couldn't...

Unaware of Raya's sudden panic, TD plows through the conversation as if nothing else is going on. He begins pacing, his arms gesticulating and his voice rising in volume and speed.

"You're not you. I'm not me. Kyle isn't Kyle. There's something off about us all. Something missing. Or for some of us, something there that shouldn't be. Perry's like that. He's got something about him that just makes him seem more... there? I guess? But it still doesn't feel like him, it just feels like he took whatever's missing and replaced it with something from someone else. It makes my skin crawl and I just don't know what to do!"

At this point TD is pacing back and forth quickly, ranting to nobody in particular.

"Everything in this world just feels so fucking wrong! My friends seem strange and foreboding, my enemies are lurking in the shadows, every town, tavern and traveler seems to be some twisted mockery of what we think they should be, and it's driving me fucking insane!"

TD stops suddenly, and slumps into the chair at the small writing desk in the corner of the room. It creaks violently under his sudden weight, and it seems as though all life has left his body.

"I don't know what to think anymore." He croaks. "We have to train to survive, but every battle we fight seems to bring us further and further away from who we were. And not in a good way."

He slowly turns his head up to face Raya, and she can see streaks of tears shining in the dim light.

"I don't remember my old life, Raya. I can barely recall my mother's face, my father's smile, my sister's laugh... Every day I wake up and wonder if this will be the last day I can cling to the dream I once called reality."

With a roar, TD stands back up and flings the chair across the room. Raya shies away from him as she can see his face grow red with hot, violent anger.

"AND FOR WHAT?" TD bellows. "TO DIE AT THE HANDS OF A BLACK-CLAD DEMON? TO BLEED OUT INTO THE DUST OF THE ROAD? MY FRIENDS ARE DEAD AT THE HAND OF ANOTHER FRIEND, OR DEAD AT THE HANDS OF OUR FOE! I HAVE BLED, AND KILLED, AND FOUGHT, AND CRIED, AND I DON'T EVEN REALLY KNOW WHY. "

TD seethes for a moment, then as rapidly as his outburst had began, his shoulders droop.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I'll... Tell the Innkeeper I'll pay for your chair."

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

Post  The Magician's Adviser on Wed Jun 22, 2016 1:59 am

Excuses, excuses:
I wrote this at 2 in the morning and without editing, so it's probably a bit rough. But hey, a post's a post, right
By the time MAd had finished coordinating with the Champions and the trade caravan and getting briefed by Quaetam, most of the patrons were settling into their rooms. The server's job wasn't done for the day, but at least the lull gave him time for a break. The kid sat at one of the bar stools, staring into a mug of ale like so many other patrons who sat in that spot. He sat and he stared at the beverage for almost ten minutes, then poured the fermented liquid on the grate in the floor on the other side of the bar. It was just his luck that his boss was behind him this time.

"Why are you always wasting perfectly good drinks." The innkeeper didn't seem annoyed as he usually did when his employee dropped something, which was admittedly frequent. In reply, the server just gave a shrug and a sigh.

The established businessman rolled his eyes and joined MAd at the bar. "What's bothering you, Ken?"

"Ramsey..." Ken started to say, then lost his voice. He looked down to hide his watery eyes. "Do you remember the day you found me out there?"

"Of course, kid," Ramsey replied in annoyance. "It was only a month ago."

"If you hadn't found me, I would've been dead. I can't ever thank you enough for that-"

"So you waste my booze."

"I thought I'd finally give it a try, okay?"

"So you didn't like it?"

"I...I didn't get that far."

"Didn't think so."

"Look, I'm trying to say-"

"I get it, you're grateful, now calm down, there's no need to cry like a child over it."

MAd sniffed in resentment, but ultimately acquiesced and took in a deep breath. Still, he opened his mouth.

"Do you remember the day you found me-"

"Fuck's sake, man! Yes! Yes I do!"

"I told you that there was something important I had to do, but I wasn't sure how to do it."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well-"

Whatever MAd was about to say got drowned out by the distant sound of wood crashing against wood upstairs. The innkeeper turned to his server, his face in a slight scowl. He knew the layout and records of his establishment like the back of his hand, and specifically recalled keeping the adventuring party on one side of the building, the side where the sound came from. "Ken, what was the one thing I wanted you to do"

Ken paused for a second before remembering the boss's exact words and scrambling from the bar to race up the stairs without a word. Argyle hovered over his summoner's shoulder as he dashed to the open door where an angry young man and a concerned woman stood opposite of a chair split in half inches from a severely scratched wall.

"Are you guys okay? Also, what the hell!"

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Re: Dark Before The Dawn- RP thread

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