Rial lay in his bed. As he began to feel his body relaxing and his eyes fluttering in the first stages of sleep, he reminisced about the manner in which he had reached his current state.
He had always had a great voice, a gift from his unknown whore mother, who to hear his late father tell it was a siren come to Zade. After leaving home and gaining renown in the world, he had finally been able to perform at a royal palace, albeit out of his homeland. The road to Teraneil had been difficult, as the invasion was beginning to become more and more apparent. He had been forced to kill more than one group of bandits, and to hide from more than one group of aliens, the cursed elves. His Melody Orb and lute, supposedly passed down from the legendary bard Galyeon, had served him well, both on the road and off.
When he reached Varas, the capital of Teraneil, he wondered at its seeming obliviousness to the happenings of the world. Except for the ancient inner walls surrounding the keep and palace, the city lacked even the most rudimentary defenses against the alien scourge. It was Rial's thought to enter, perform, receive his large payment, and leave as swiftly as he could.
The palace had been apparent as soon as he passed through the gates. A massive, gorgeous structure of brick, stone, and wood, it had housed the usually-beloved royal family for years. The afternoon was young, and the performance was scheduled for that day, so he did not bother to book a vacancy at an inn. He did make two stops, however. One was at a small store, where he purchased a jar and a brass music note, the latter of which he placed inside the former. The second stop was, as was customary to first-time visitors to Varas, in the home of the legendary Drake Slayer named Seron Dalar, in which he placed the items he had just purchased-- a nod to the assassin-archer's tradition of taking a small souvenir from every lair he visited. The original ten were at a heavily guarded museum back in Zade.
After these brief pauses, he made for the palace at once. He gave a passing look to inspect the sturdiness of the inner walls, and found them to be in a sad state of repair. Shaking his head, he strode through to the palace steps. Smiling, he introduced himself to first the guards and then the small crowd which had gathered for the evening's entertainment, and then unslung his instrument and began to sing. As usual, he'd started with "Ne'er Broken," assisted by his lute and treasured Orb. Following that, he'd sung his best: "An Arrow For Aron," "The Dance of the Hell Hound," "Duke Stew," and "The Shoemaker's Service." For his finale, he'd chosen a song sure to please: "Song of the Slayers." It was an enchanting tune of adventure, glory, and courage, and in the home of one of the Slayers would be well-taken.
The invasion came then. As the hour grew late, the skies tried in vain to darken, but were lit again and again by unnatural lightning and fire. Varas was situated not far from one of the four holy shrines, and was not a city to be left standing. As chaos raged around him, Rial found himself seized by an unearthly calm, and played through. When he reached the instrumental preceding the last verse, he closed his eyes and allowed his fingers to move over the strings. Just before the final verse began, the screams and explosions abruptly stopped. He opened his eyes, and found himself on an unfamiliar shore.
After three days of wandering inland with nothing to eat but what he could catch, and owning nothing but the clothes on his back, his longsword and shortsword, his Orb, and his lute, Rial had come to the Black Cat. He'd worked out an arrangement with Bann, the portly innkeeper, to allow for his indefinite stay in one of the higher-quality rooms in return for his vocal services three times a day. His repertoire was not limited by any means, although a few crowd favorites were performed more often than any others. The one melody he could never sing nor play, though, was the Song of the Slayers...
Rial's eyes snapped open. Morning's harsh light lanced in through his open window, stabbing at his unprotected eyes. Raising a hand to shield them, the bard sat up and dressed himself, placing his swords in their crossed sheaths on his back and his lute and Orb at his hip. Pausing to stretch out his tired limbs, he headed out of his oaken door and down the stairs to the delicious smell of the kitchens. He told Bann he'd be wanting some breakfast and went to sit in the common room. He relaxed at a table by himself, idly scanning the room. Several of the men were unknown to him, as usual, since these were the travelers seeking shelter on the road, not the evening and nightly regulars seeking a drink, a song, and a decent meal before heading for home. The door opened, and Rial turned to see who the newcomer would be.
Prince Toad, the shroom-o-doom
[ May 15, 2004, 02:47 PM: Message edited by: Prince Toad ]
Ultimate RPG: Glory
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Prince Toad
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[sage]
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Aeros walked into the inn. He had been travelling for days, with almost no sleep. He looked around at everyone in the tavern, most of them looking at him. He ignored them, although he took notice of a young man sitting by himself.
"A bard..." he thought to himself, taking note of his lute.
Aeros walked over to the innkeeper, and requested a room. The innkeeper responded "I'll be right back, I believe we have an open room or two. We seem to be getting a lot of travellers.
Aeros nodded and sat down at a table nearby. He leaned his staff against it, and scanned the room again. Everyone had gone back to their own buisness. He sat back and quietly waited for the innkeeper to return.
"A bard..." he thought to himself, taking note of his lute.
Aeros walked over to the innkeeper, and requested a room. The innkeeper responded "I'll be right back, I believe we have an open room or two. We seem to be getting a lot of travellers.
Aeros nodded and sat down at a table nearby. He leaned his staff against it, and scanned the room again. Everyone had gone back to their own buisness. He sat back and quietly waited for the innkeeper to return.
Total slaughter, total slaughter. I won\'t leave a single man alive. La de da de die, genocide. La de da de dud, an ocean of blood. Let\'s begin the killing time.
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Blake
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Back in a long, empty, battle torn field at sunset, a group of 16 soldiers were riding on horses. Two soldiers were riding alongside each other, planning on what to do next.
Kal: How long will our supplies last?
Francis: We have only about 3 days worth of rations to supply us and the troops, perhaps 4 or 5 if we cut back a little more.
Kal: Spare some food so that we'll last four days. We'll be too exhausted if we eat any less. How are the wounded?
Francis: The one with the broken arm has been having trouble riding, but says he's better than last time. The one that broke his ankle is still riding fine, but had no treatment. The one hit with the poison arrow however, appears to be suffering a slight bit but if we reach a town, he'll be fine when treated. And the one cut in the stomach, is not doing too well, the bleeding hasn't stopped since the battle at Irrelium.
Kal: They must be exhausted from this long dark week. I feel we are quite safe at the minute, let us rest well tonight.
The group of soldiers had all fallen asleep. Two of the soldiers stayed up to watch the night for a few hours. The two soldiers after a while began yawning and getting very sleepy too soon, and weren't paying much attention as they had been before. The next minute, the two's throats had been slit, as a group of bandits emerged from the darkness. They looked around the camp and had just enough time to search the two fallen bodies until another soldier woke up.
Soldier: Bandits! Draw your swords!
At that moment, everyone was awake and everyone fought, except for two of the wounded. The bandits had taken out another soldier before everyone had time to get their equipment, and the fight began. During the battle, the man with the broken arm had been killed for the pain in his arm was too great to fight, and the man with the broken ankle had tripped while fighting and had been slain, as well as a non-wounded soldier.
Francis: They're after the horses! Stop them!
As the group of soldiers charged after the bandits, they had cut all the restraints off the horses and a lot of them had mounted on a horse each; the other horses free, fled in terror. The next few minutes, the fight had already ended.
Francis: 6 Had been slain in the battle, all our horses lost, and half of our rations. And we are still quite far. What shall we do?
Kal grabbed his sword and squeezed it with anger.
Kal: I DONT KNOW! WHAT THE HELL ARE WE GONNA DO NOW?! HOW ARE WE GONNA GET TO SAFETY IN TWO DAYS, WITH WEARY SOLDIERS, AND NO HORSES?!
Kal walked away and threw his equipment on the ground. After a few minutes, he calmed down.
Kal: I'm sorry... I guess, get some rest and we'll see how tomorrow turns out to be.
The next morning rose, and the 10 remaining soldiers got up. They began to clean up the site and took as much as they can with them.
Francis: The man with the poison arrow and the man that has been bleeding cannot travel by foot.
Kal looked down, and thought of any possibilities, but couldn't think of any.
Wounded Man 1: This bleeding can't be healed. My time is near. Leave me behind.
Wounded Man 2: Leave me behind also, we'd have to be carried; that would be too much on the men. I am not afraid to die.
Kal: I cannot leave you suffering like this, without food, and being defenseless. I don't want you guys to feel tortured.
Wounded Man 1: Kill us, it was not your doing that we need to be killed. It was the battle at Irrelium that had been responsible for our fall. You are losing time, there is still hope.
Kal: Do it then... farewell, brothers... you won't be forgotten.
Kal orders two other soldiers to stab the two wounded in the heart. The soldiers grasp in pain for only a few seconds, and then die. Kal began to kneel and cry.
Kal: At Irrelium. Bad had come. And then worse, and now worst...
[ May 15, 2004, 03:43 PM: Message edited by: Guy That Goes To The Roleplay Forum ]
Kal: How long will our supplies last?
Francis: We have only about 3 days worth of rations to supply us and the troops, perhaps 4 or 5 if we cut back a little more.
Kal: Spare some food so that we'll last four days. We'll be too exhausted if we eat any less. How are the wounded?
Francis: The one with the broken arm has been having trouble riding, but says he's better than last time. The one that broke his ankle is still riding fine, but had no treatment. The one hit with the poison arrow however, appears to be suffering a slight bit but if we reach a town, he'll be fine when treated. And the one cut in the stomach, is not doing too well, the bleeding hasn't stopped since the battle at Irrelium.
Kal: They must be exhausted from this long dark week. I feel we are quite safe at the minute, let us rest well tonight.
The group of soldiers had all fallen asleep. Two of the soldiers stayed up to watch the night for a few hours. The two soldiers after a while began yawning and getting very sleepy too soon, and weren't paying much attention as they had been before. The next minute, the two's throats had been slit, as a group of bandits emerged from the darkness. They looked around the camp and had just enough time to search the two fallen bodies until another soldier woke up.
Soldier: Bandits! Draw your swords!
At that moment, everyone was awake and everyone fought, except for two of the wounded. The bandits had taken out another soldier before everyone had time to get their equipment, and the fight began. During the battle, the man with the broken arm had been killed for the pain in his arm was too great to fight, and the man with the broken ankle had tripped while fighting and had been slain, as well as a non-wounded soldier.
Francis: They're after the horses! Stop them!
As the group of soldiers charged after the bandits, they had cut all the restraints off the horses and a lot of them had mounted on a horse each; the other horses free, fled in terror. The next few minutes, the fight had already ended.
Francis: 6 Had been slain in the battle, all our horses lost, and half of our rations. And we are still quite far. What shall we do?
Kal grabbed his sword and squeezed it with anger.
Kal: I DONT KNOW! WHAT THE HELL ARE WE GONNA DO NOW?! HOW ARE WE GONNA GET TO SAFETY IN TWO DAYS, WITH WEARY SOLDIERS, AND NO HORSES?!
Kal walked away and threw his equipment on the ground. After a few minutes, he calmed down.
Kal: I'm sorry... I guess, get some rest and we'll see how tomorrow turns out to be.
The next morning rose, and the 10 remaining soldiers got up. They began to clean up the site and took as much as they can with them.
Francis: The man with the poison arrow and the man that has been bleeding cannot travel by foot.
Kal looked down, and thought of any possibilities, but couldn't think of any.
Wounded Man 1: This bleeding can't be healed. My time is near. Leave me behind.
Wounded Man 2: Leave me behind also, we'd have to be carried; that would be too much on the men. I am not afraid to die.
Kal: I cannot leave you suffering like this, without food, and being defenseless. I don't want you guys to feel tortured.
Wounded Man 1: Kill us, it was not your doing that we need to be killed. It was the battle at Irrelium that had been responsible for our fall. You are losing time, there is still hope.
Kal: Do it then... farewell, brothers... you won't be forgotten.
Kal orders two other soldiers to stab the two wounded in the heart. The soldiers grasp in pain for only a few seconds, and then die. Kal began to kneel and cry.
Kal: At Irrelium. Bad had come. And then worse, and now worst...
[ May 15, 2004, 03:43 PM: Message edited by: Guy That Goes To The Roleplay Forum ]
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Prince Toad
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Rial reclined in his seat. The newcomer with the white robes spoke to Bann and took a seat. As the food arrived, the singer thanked the innkeeper's daughter, Sana, for the service. Munching on his eggs and mutton, he took note of two people, a man and a woman, leaning in and speaking in low voices to each other. His sharp ears pricked up and he listened in.
Man: The aliens... you know, Finae, we've got to do something about them.
Finae: Yes, but what? They've stormed Zade, Teraneil, Aldresil, Feransadur... how can we do anything about them, Kras?
Kras: Well, we can't go head-to-head with those mage armies.
Finae: The two of us? Ha, you didn't need to tell me that.
Kras: Can it, woman. We can't stop them in their tracks, but we can annoy them. Maybe get some others to do it too. We're not alone, you know, there's not a man on Glaseim doesn't want to stop them.
Finae: Aye, then why are you whispering?
Kras: They've probably got spies here.
Finae: At the Cat?
Kras: Well, maybe not, but you can't be too careful.
Finae: Hmph. So what do you propose we do?
Kras: We've got friends in Grayfield, you know that. They're sure to be with me on this.
Finae: Yeah, I was wondering where we were going. So we'll be a little resistance, will we? How about that.
Kras peered around furtively and noticed Rial's silent gaze. He told Finae something and rose from his seat. He approached the bard.
Kras: You been listening to us?
Rial: What if I have?
Kras: ...are you with me?
Rial: I... well, yes, I suppose.
Kras: Great. You've got a job to do, then. Spread the word. You're a singer, right?
Rial: Yeah...
Kras: You must be clever then, good with lyrics. Spread the word. The elves won't be quick enough with our language to decipher what you're singing if you put some innuendo in it about resisting.
Rial: I guess you're smarter than you look, then. Alright. You go on to Grayfield, I know what I've got to do.
Kras: Aye. Good day.
Kras nodded, went over to Finae, and spoke to her. They got up and left.
~A Resistance... finally... revenge. Ha ha...~
Rial spent the next few hours in his room composing his new piece. He was putting on the finishing touches when Bann called him down for his afternoon performance. He quickly glanced over the melody, the chords, and the lyrics before heading downstairs to the slightly raised platform near the fireplace where he sang. The verses of "Patriot's Serenade" were variant and diverting, but any witty listener could easily decode the meaning behind the song from the chorus:
Rial: "Come one, come all," the patriot sang,
"For the foe does knock at our gate,"
His voice through the inn courageously rang
"Join now, before it's too late."
The patriot played a patriot's chord
And called men to their fate,
"Lend me your staff, and lend me your sword,
Join now, before it's too late."
[ May 15, 2004, 09:55 PM: Message edited by: Prince Toad ]
Man: The aliens... you know, Finae, we've got to do something about them.
Finae: Yes, but what? They've stormed Zade, Teraneil, Aldresil, Feransadur... how can we do anything about them, Kras?
Kras: Well, we can't go head-to-head with those mage armies.
Finae: The two of us? Ha, you didn't need to tell me that.
Kras: Can it, woman. We can't stop them in their tracks, but we can annoy them. Maybe get some others to do it too. We're not alone, you know, there's not a man on Glaseim doesn't want to stop them.
Finae: Aye, then why are you whispering?
Kras: They've probably got spies here.
Finae: At the Cat?
Kras: Well, maybe not, but you can't be too careful.
Finae: Hmph. So what do you propose we do?
Kras: We've got friends in Grayfield, you know that. They're sure to be with me on this.
Finae: Yeah, I was wondering where we were going. So we'll be a little resistance, will we? How about that.
Kras peered around furtively and noticed Rial's silent gaze. He told Finae something and rose from his seat. He approached the bard.
Kras: You been listening to us?
Rial: What if I have?
Kras: ...are you with me?
Rial: I... well, yes, I suppose.
Kras: Great. You've got a job to do, then. Spread the word. You're a singer, right?
Rial: Yeah...
Kras: You must be clever then, good with lyrics. Spread the word. The elves won't be quick enough with our language to decipher what you're singing if you put some innuendo in it about resisting.
Rial: I guess you're smarter than you look, then. Alright. You go on to Grayfield, I know what I've got to do.
Kras: Aye. Good day.
Kras nodded, went over to Finae, and spoke to her. They got up and left.
~A Resistance... finally... revenge. Ha ha...~
Rial spent the next few hours in his room composing his new piece. He was putting on the finishing touches when Bann called him down for his afternoon performance. He quickly glanced over the melody, the chords, and the lyrics before heading downstairs to the slightly raised platform near the fireplace where he sang. The verses of "Patriot's Serenade" were variant and diverting, but any witty listener could easily decode the meaning behind the song from the chorus:
Rial: "Come one, come all," the patriot sang,
"For the foe does knock at our gate,"
His voice through the inn courageously rang
"Join now, before it's too late."
The patriot played a patriot's chord
And called men to their fate,
"Lend me your staff, and lend me your sword,
Join now, before it's too late."
[ May 15, 2004, 09:55 PM: Message edited by: Prince Toad ]
Prince Toad, the shroom-o-doom
^Proud member of the Circum-flex Revolution!
^Proud member of the Circum-flex Revolution!
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Lord Umbra
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Raen trudged along the road. He had been following it for day after day, hoping to find something along it. He had nowhere to go, nothing to do, and was in need of money. The shape of a clump of building slowly appeared. Slowly the largest one defined itself, an inn of sorts. Fading letters proclaimed it to be The Black Cat. For the illiterate, a drawing of a black cat was underneath the words.
Perhaps Raen could find work there. He went inside, hoping for the best. Inside, some bard was singing a patriotic tune. It took Raen only a second to get the hidden message within, the chorus making the bard's message clear. Thoughts whirlled through the mercenary's head. He certainly didn't like the rumors about what the elves were doing, and rebellion was an avenue of fame and fortune that he had not tried. It was worth a shot, especially when he had nothing else to do.
Raen politely waited until the man had stopped his song, and quickly stepped forward. "It's not too late to join, is it?" Raen whispered his question, and surprised that he was the only one who had stepped forward. Was he the only one who got the message?
[ May 16, 2004, 11:02 AM: Message edited by: Lord Umbra ]
Perhaps Raen could find work there. He went inside, hoping for the best. Inside, some bard was singing a patriotic tune. It took Raen only a second to get the hidden message within, the chorus making the bard's message clear. Thoughts whirlled through the mercenary's head. He certainly didn't like the rumors about what the elves were doing, and rebellion was an avenue of fame and fortune that he had not tried. It was worth a shot, especially when he had nothing else to do.
Raen politely waited until the man had stopped his song, and quickly stepped forward. "It's not too late to join, is it?" Raen whispered his question, and surprised that he was the only one who had stepped forward. Was he the only one who got the message?
[ May 16, 2004, 11:02 AM: Message edited by: Lord Umbra ]
\"Be kind to your neighbor. He knows where you live.\"
- Anon.
- Anon.
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Blake
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Back in The Black Cat, Truke, the cloaked warrior had been relaxing at a table and thinking.
Truke: Apparently those elves have become quite hostile lately. It is against their nature to be this cold to humans. It'll be hard eliminating them... I doubt the last defense here at Glasium will prove to be any better than the others, but I suppose there is hope.
Truke at that moment heard a Bard singing. At first he didn't take any interest in the song, but as he sang on he found the meaning of it. Thoughts rushed through his mind madly as the song continued on until it had stopped.
Truke: Interesting... This perhaps can be the opportune moment to strike back! To drive away the elves for good! Although there have been many that have failed.
At that moment, he saw a man step up and wisper something to the Bard. The Bard nodded his head in approval.
Truke: But there is nothing for me to lose here, I might as well give it a shot.
Truke stepped up after a few moments, seeing a few more people rise up and wispered to the Bard.
Truke: I, Truke, shall join as well. I will fight, even during the darkest night...
[ May 16, 2004, 08:52 PM: Message edited by: Guy That Goes To The Roleplay Forum ]
Truke: Apparently those elves have become quite hostile lately. It is against their nature to be this cold to humans. It'll be hard eliminating them... I doubt the last defense here at Glasium will prove to be any better than the others, but I suppose there is hope.
Truke at that moment heard a Bard singing. At first he didn't take any interest in the song, but as he sang on he found the meaning of it. Thoughts rushed through his mind madly as the song continued on until it had stopped.
Truke: Interesting... This perhaps can be the opportune moment to strike back! To drive away the elves for good! Although there have been many that have failed.
At that moment, he saw a man step up and wisper something to the Bard. The Bard nodded his head in approval.
Truke: But there is nothing for me to lose here, I might as well give it a shot.
Truke stepped up after a few moments, seeing a few more people rise up and wispered to the Bard.
Truke: I, Truke, shall join as well. I will fight, even during the darkest night...
[ May 16, 2004, 08:52 PM: Message edited by: Guy That Goes To The Roleplay Forum ]
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[sage]
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Aeros woke to the sound of the bard singing. Feeling suprisingly refreshed for his few hours of sleep, he got dressed and went down stairs. He entered just as the bard began the song's chorus.
When he repeated it a second time, Aeros caught the hidden message. He watched another man step up and whisper something.
Aeros walked forward.
"I'm in..." he whispered.
When he repeated it a second time, Aeros caught the hidden message. He watched another man step up and whisper something.
Aeros walked forward.
"I'm in..." he whispered.
Total slaughter, total slaughter. I won\'t leave a single man alive. La de da de die, genocide. La de da de dud, an ocean of blood. Let\'s begin the killing time.
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Prince Toad
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As the other men in the inn went back to their cups and stories, Rial glanced over the small party that had assembled at the base of the platform. They had been the ones clever and brave enough to answer his call. The one with the scimitar had a look in his eyes that reminded Rial of his own, the same wild spirit that had assuredly carried them both through many a struggle. The man with the brown cloak hung back and watched passively. Rial could ascertain little of his personality from his blank demeanor. The one with the white robes was even farther back, but his eyes remained steady on the bard. It seemed that he was a magician, a rare commodity on Creon. Rial guessed he was a practitioner of healing magic, but would have to confirm this in battle or elsewhere. Orbs hung from the belts of each, gray, silver, and lavender, respectively. He spied a short sword on the cloaked man, a shining staff on the mage, and an ill-concealed scimitar on the one closest to him.
Rial: I see you've... gotten my message.
Truke: Aye.
Rial: We can't be here this publicly, suspicion will rise. Go up to my room-- here's the key, fourth door on the right. I'll finish earning my keep and meet you there. Don't touch any of my stuff, of course.
The three others retrieved their packs and, slinging them over their shoulders, trudged up the stairs. Rial sang "An Arrow For Aron" and "Laila" before bowing, collecting the few coins tossed as tips, and returning to his room. He found the trio lounging about, the mage standing in a corner, the cloaked man lying across Rial's pillows, the one with the scimitar leaning forward in a chair. Rial closed the door, locked it, and took a seat at the foot of his bed. Peering around at the three of them, he initiated the speech.
Rial: Well, men, I'll have your names.
Raen: My name is Raen.
Truke: I'm Truke.
Aeros: Mine's Aeros.
Raen: Hmm, and what's yours?
Rial: Why, I am the great bard Rial, of the fleet fingers and honeyed tongue, famed through all the lands of--
Raen: Bah! Full of wind and pomp, like all the rest.
Rial: Hey! The bard's profession is noble and honorable, I'll not have it mocked.
Raen: You've a good voice, I'll grant you that, but so do birds, and they can't fight too well. You better prove useful, singer.
Rial: More useful than--
Truke: Cut this out, you two. We're on the same side, remember?
Raen: Yeah...
Rial: Mm, you're right. Let's get on with this.
Raen: How do you propose we do that, then? There's the four of us. We're to take on the same force that annihilated the armies of Zade, Teraneil, and Aldresil, and sent the survivors scampering to Glaseim with their tails between their legs?
Rial: Yes, well, I was planning to put on some fancy mail, rip out my swords, and charge at their lines shouting battle cries. Gods... we're not going to fight like an army, men.
Raen: Oh? I hadn't realized.
Truke: So... how will we fight?
Rial: Well... hmmm... you know, the aliens don't know the land as well as we do. They may have spread themselves out too thin, or put strength in the wrong places, or left crucial points unguarded. Does anyone here have a map?
Truke: Aye. Hold on.
Truke rummaged about his pack and pulled out a rolled-up scroll bound by a bright blue ribbon. He pulled the string and the map uncurled halfway. He set it on a table and put some spare objects on the corners to hold it in place. All of them except Aeros, who was gazing keenly out the small square window at a point unknown, came over and studied the scroll for a time before the bard again spoke up.
Rial: Well... here's what I'm seeing. If we're going to go through the mainland, we've two possible points of embarkation and three possible ports. We can head out from Ashland Beach here, at the northeastern end of the continent, or from Tarbend farther south. From Ashland we'd either head to Jerun in Teraneil, here, or Labrant on the border to Zade. However, those ports would be rather obvious and probably well-guarded. From Tarbend we can sail around Thunder Cape and up to Fairport on the eastern side of Zade. That was one of the last towns taken, the last I'd heard, so there may still be some survivors on the hidden beaches. That's where I docked after touring the ice towns of Feransadur-- not a good idea-- and I think I can remember some of the odd coves I noticed.
Raen: But to what purpose? We can't stop them. Harass them, maybe, but they're going to take the shrines.
Rial: The southern one is submerged, remember? They've got to take some time finding it. In the meantime, we can work on somehow retaking the eastern one at the ruins of Karzastine.
Raen: I still don't see this... those will be the most heavily guarded. How can we expect to regain and hold it?
Rial: Hold it? No... they must be destroyed.
Raen: Are you mad?
Rial: No, hear me. It's the only way to save us. Legend tells that the four shrines can never be united, or an evil almost as powerful as Lythien will come forth-- perhaps even Lythien himself. I don't care what anyone says. This can't happen. We've got to destroy the sites and dispel the magic there.
Raen: Dammit! Listen to me! HOW ARE WE GOING TO DO THAT?!
Rial: I... I... er...
Aeros: The amulets.
Everyone turned to look at the quiet spellcaster. His eyes had returned to the room and were now bright with meaning and hope.
Aeros: The drake amulets... they contain power enough to overcome nearly anything. They overcame Lythien, and he was the greatest menace to face Creon since the Demon God himself. Surely they'll be able to take out a few elves.
Truke: He's... he's right.
Raen: It's so crazy, it just might work!
Rial (to Raen): You, talking of crazy? Ha... (to Aeros) Well, my friend, your idea could give us just what's needed to topple these bastards. All that's left is to find where one's hidden, remove the guards, take the amulet, and repeat, eh?
Truke: But how long before they find the southern shrine?
Rial: I don't know...
Aeros: They may be drawn to its power. They must be. But they should have no clues as to where to begin looking, and so as long as none of their more powerful leaders happen to sail by it, we should be safe. Even then, they'd have to raise and restore it before it could be used. We're sure to have time.
Rial: You prove your worth again, Aeros. Well then, we've no time to spare. To Tarbend!
[ May 19, 2004, 11:59 PM: Message edited by: Prince Toad ]
Rial: I see you've... gotten my message.
Truke: Aye.
Rial: We can't be here this publicly, suspicion will rise. Go up to my room-- here's the key, fourth door on the right. I'll finish earning my keep and meet you there. Don't touch any of my stuff, of course.
The three others retrieved their packs and, slinging them over their shoulders, trudged up the stairs. Rial sang "An Arrow For Aron" and "Laila" before bowing, collecting the few coins tossed as tips, and returning to his room. He found the trio lounging about, the mage standing in a corner, the cloaked man lying across Rial's pillows, the one with the scimitar leaning forward in a chair. Rial closed the door, locked it, and took a seat at the foot of his bed. Peering around at the three of them, he initiated the speech.
Rial: Well, men, I'll have your names.
Raen: My name is Raen.
Truke: I'm Truke.
Aeros: Mine's Aeros.
Raen: Hmm, and what's yours?
Rial: Why, I am the great bard Rial, of the fleet fingers and honeyed tongue, famed through all the lands of--
Raen: Bah! Full of wind and pomp, like all the rest.
Rial: Hey! The bard's profession is noble and honorable, I'll not have it mocked.
Raen: You've a good voice, I'll grant you that, but so do birds, and they can't fight too well. You better prove useful, singer.
Rial: More useful than--
Truke: Cut this out, you two. We're on the same side, remember?
Raen: Yeah...
Rial: Mm, you're right. Let's get on with this.
Raen: How do you propose we do that, then? There's the four of us. We're to take on the same force that annihilated the armies of Zade, Teraneil, and Aldresil, and sent the survivors scampering to Glaseim with their tails between their legs?
Rial: Yes, well, I was planning to put on some fancy mail, rip out my swords, and charge at their lines shouting battle cries. Gods... we're not going to fight like an army, men.
Raen: Oh? I hadn't realized.
Truke: So... how will we fight?
Rial: Well... hmmm... you know, the aliens don't know the land as well as we do. They may have spread themselves out too thin, or put strength in the wrong places, or left crucial points unguarded. Does anyone here have a map?
Truke: Aye. Hold on.
Truke rummaged about his pack and pulled out a rolled-up scroll bound by a bright blue ribbon. He pulled the string and the map uncurled halfway. He set it on a table and put some spare objects on the corners to hold it in place. All of them except Aeros, who was gazing keenly out the small square window at a point unknown, came over and studied the scroll for a time before the bard again spoke up.
Rial: Well... here's what I'm seeing. If we're going to go through the mainland, we've two possible points of embarkation and three possible ports. We can head out from Ashland Beach here, at the northeastern end of the continent, or from Tarbend farther south. From Ashland we'd either head to Jerun in Teraneil, here, or Labrant on the border to Zade. However, those ports would be rather obvious and probably well-guarded. From Tarbend we can sail around Thunder Cape and up to Fairport on the eastern side of Zade. That was one of the last towns taken, the last I'd heard, so there may still be some survivors on the hidden beaches. That's where I docked after touring the ice towns of Feransadur-- not a good idea-- and I think I can remember some of the odd coves I noticed.
Raen: But to what purpose? We can't stop them. Harass them, maybe, but they're going to take the shrines.
Rial: The southern one is submerged, remember? They've got to take some time finding it. In the meantime, we can work on somehow retaking the eastern one at the ruins of Karzastine.
Raen: I still don't see this... those will be the most heavily guarded. How can we expect to regain and hold it?
Rial: Hold it? No... they must be destroyed.
Raen: Are you mad?
Rial: No, hear me. It's the only way to save us. Legend tells that the four shrines can never be united, or an evil almost as powerful as Lythien will come forth-- perhaps even Lythien himself. I don't care what anyone says. This can't happen. We've got to destroy the sites and dispel the magic there.
Raen: Dammit! Listen to me! HOW ARE WE GOING TO DO THAT?!
Rial: I... I... er...
Aeros: The amulets.
Everyone turned to look at the quiet spellcaster. His eyes had returned to the room and were now bright with meaning and hope.
Aeros: The drake amulets... they contain power enough to overcome nearly anything. They overcame Lythien, and he was the greatest menace to face Creon since the Demon God himself. Surely they'll be able to take out a few elves.
Truke: He's... he's right.
Raen: It's so crazy, it just might work!
Rial (to Raen): You, talking of crazy? Ha... (to Aeros) Well, my friend, your idea could give us just what's needed to topple these bastards. All that's left is to find where one's hidden, remove the guards, take the amulet, and repeat, eh?
Truke: But how long before they find the southern shrine?
Rial: I don't know...
Aeros: They may be drawn to its power. They must be. But they should have no clues as to where to begin looking, and so as long as none of their more powerful leaders happen to sail by it, we should be safe. Even then, they'd have to raise and restore it before it could be used. We're sure to have time.
Rial: You prove your worth again, Aeros. Well then, we've no time to spare. To Tarbend!
[ May 19, 2004, 11:59 PM: Message edited by: Prince Toad ]
Prince Toad, the shroom-o-doom
^Proud member of the Circum-flex Revolution!
^Proud member of the Circum-flex Revolution!
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Lord Umbra
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Raen looked over his companions. An odd bunch, to say the least. A bard, a mage of sorts, another mage-like, and himself. He doubted whether the bard would be of use in a fight, and mages simply didn't cut it for physical work. He would probably end up becoming the tank of the bunch. It was a shame, he had always enjoyed being something of a suicidal fighter. To hell with the rest of his companions and run in like a maniac tactics wouldn't do, unless another fighter was recruited.
Now they were off to Tarbend on their insane quest to destroy the shrines. May whatever forces created those monuments forgive him for what he planned to do to them.
Now they were off to Tarbend on their insane quest to destroy the shrines. May whatever forces created those monuments forgive him for what he planned to do to them.
\"Be kind to your neighbor. He knows where you live.\"
- Anon.
- Anon.
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Blake
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- Location: A generic place such as a house
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The group of four at this point began getting ready. Each had checked their equipment twice to make sure they haven't forgotten anything. As Truke pulled his sword out of his sheath, Raen noticed the sword and looked dissatisfied.
Truke: Something trouble you?
Raen: Your sword is old and is dull. Why do you possess it?
Truke: I haven't used it in a long time. I've actually kept it as a family heirloom. It is the last I have of my family.
Raen: Oh.. well I can't help but feel we've already lost. We are ill-equipped to go against armies. I'll take it that you men know how to fight though, for that's we're going to do.
Aeros: Not quite, we'll need to fight, but we'll need to trick the enemy to get the first amulet, for it will be most difficult to obtain. We cannot take on massess of soldiers as regular humans; we'll need more stealth until we can harness the amulet's power.
Raen: I've been in worse situations; I've placed my life in every situation I've been in. This stuff is child's play for me.
Rial: Yes, but before we get the first amulet, we need to get a few more people.
Aeros: Ah... is that why you talked to that man earlier?
Rial: Yes. He's probably at Grayfield by now picking up new friends. Although he only told me to spread the word to get recruits for the resistance, he hasn't told me where to spread the word though.
Truke: So we have two choices... either search for the amulets and take them for ourselves, or meet the others at Grayfield and find the amulets with them.
Raen: Quite a risk, the resistance is his idea... He can simply proclaim himself as "the father" of the resistance and seize it for himself and his friends. But if we go to Tarbend, we can make ourselves the leaders of this resistance.
Aeros: If we make ourselves the leader of this resistance and search for the amulets with them, wouldn't that make us look just as greedy as they?
Rial: We've spent enough time here. We need to move. If we meet the resistance, we have to leave now before they take off to another town. If we search for amulets, we must leave now and begin forming our own resistance and gather clues at Tarbend as to where the amulets can be. The final decision is: Grayfield, or Tarbend?
[ May 20, 2004, 09:46 PM: Message edited by: Guy That Goes To The Roleplay Forum ]
Truke: Something trouble you?
Raen: Your sword is old and is dull. Why do you possess it?
Truke: I haven't used it in a long time. I've actually kept it as a family heirloom. It is the last I have of my family.
Raen: Oh.. well I can't help but feel we've already lost. We are ill-equipped to go against armies. I'll take it that you men know how to fight though, for that's we're going to do.
Aeros: Not quite, we'll need to fight, but we'll need to trick the enemy to get the first amulet, for it will be most difficult to obtain. We cannot take on massess of soldiers as regular humans; we'll need more stealth until we can harness the amulet's power.
Raen: I've been in worse situations; I've placed my life in every situation I've been in. This stuff is child's play for me.
Rial: Yes, but before we get the first amulet, we need to get a few more people.
Aeros: Ah... is that why you talked to that man earlier?
Rial: Yes. He's probably at Grayfield by now picking up new friends. Although he only told me to spread the word to get recruits for the resistance, he hasn't told me where to spread the word though.
Truke: So we have two choices... either search for the amulets and take them for ourselves, or meet the others at Grayfield and find the amulets with them.
Raen: Quite a risk, the resistance is his idea... He can simply proclaim himself as "the father" of the resistance and seize it for himself and his friends. But if we go to Tarbend, we can make ourselves the leaders of this resistance.
Aeros: If we make ourselves the leader of this resistance and search for the amulets with them, wouldn't that make us look just as greedy as they?
Rial: We've spent enough time here. We need to move. If we meet the resistance, we have to leave now before they take off to another town. If we search for amulets, we must leave now and begin forming our own resistance and gather clues at Tarbend as to where the amulets can be. The final decision is: Grayfield, or Tarbend?
[ May 20, 2004, 09:46 PM: Message edited by: Guy That Goes To The Roleplay Forum ]
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Life Critic
- Member
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- Joined: Fri May 21, 2004 1:00 am
OOC: I wrote this before whatsisname's post above, but it doesn't matter as it works just as well either way.
IC:
Two days previous the streets had been alive with laughter. Now it was but a mere wasteland, children’s playthings crushed under metal boots in some sort of charge for power.
The survivors said they came from the skies in swarms, seeking out refuge of their own and not afraid to greedily turn themselves into self righteous monsters in the process. The most unexpected thing was that no swords clashed and nothing splintered. They had been so efficient that you would have thought the things they had taken were never there. The likelihood of such a terrible fate was astronomical; they all thought their precious homes were safe after the famous battles of history past and were never prepared for anything of this nature.
When Kerlea Mathiel was only six, her mother died in a dragon raid of her home city of Calapei. Her father, a wealthy duke, soon lost his will to continue loving his daughter, and passed away from grief. It was when she was twelve that she ran away her lonely home with naught but her family’s heirloom, a jewel-encrusted broadsword that was so weighted that she could barely hold to defend herself. She quickly learnt how to survive without her parent’s wealth and made her way to the furthest city she could find, as far away from her old life as possible, and started something else. The city she found was none other than the economic capital of the world, Zade.
There was something much worse than what killed her mother though, as she found out several years later as she returned from her mercenary tinged job of slaying all threats to her new home on order from the young King. The town was in ruins, and instead of the friends she had made, there were only strange armoured creatures she had never seen before in her life. She, like the coward she admittedly thought herself as, turned and fled once more, hitching anonymously on a state of the art steamboat secretly ferrying survivors for Glaseim. For the two days there was no shelter in sight, and she resorted to shivering under the stars. On the third day she thanked the goddesses.
There, under the cradle of the night sky, was an illuminated inn. It was dingy and dank, but to Kerlea it looked like heaven with its candlelights and laughter. At that moment her energy seemed to return all at once, and she stood up straight as any respectable person might, smoothed out her cloak, and entered.
The sight that greeted her put a smile to her face, and she marched over to the rather large man at the bar, reached into her pockets, and placed the entirety of her measly money pouch on the tabletop.
“Yeh’ll be wanting a room, then?” the man spoke in a voice that suited his shaggy looks perfectly.
“Yes, thank you.”
He smiled a gapped tooth smile, scooped the money into his hands and turned around, unhooking a dirty smudged key from its place on the wall. Turning back, he handed it over.
“Go up the stairs, and turn left. Yeh room’s right there, first one. Good thing, yeh look like yeh haven’t had a rest in weeks! Enjoy it, lady!”
Kerlea nodded weakly. “It is much appreciated, kind sir.”
She found her room quickly a set about trying to grab some shut-eye.
She found herself lying awake, however, staring at the ceiling as a spider silently spun its web earnestly in the corner. The unsettling feeling in her stomach was worse than it had ever been before, than it had ever been in her entire life. She longed to do something with her pathetic existence, but she merely drifted from place to place, making friends then leaving for somewhere else. Sure, it wasn’t a profession but it was she. But then again, she felt empty, and drained, and for no good reason.
She felt anxious, tired, eager, sick. Yes, and a little afraid as well. But most of all she felt alone.
But she knew she wasn’t alone. She’d heard the news. The Kingdom of Zade wasn’t the only place that had been attacked. There were thousands, probably millions of people that were in the same boat that she was in, or worse. But more than anything she knew herself the best, and she knew she was alone and purposeless.
Vagabond Kerlea...
She laughed bitterly and closed her eyes, welcoming sleep, and maybe hoping that she’d never wake up.
Just as the clouds of slumber were starting to take over her eyes opened suddenly, and a headache shot through her skull.
“...right...”
“It’s so crazy, it just might work!”
The words were painfully loud, and she struggled off the mattress to her feet. It hurt something terrible, as if the words were echoing through her head. And not just those phrases, more were accompanying them. It was as though she had somehow received a foreign conversation in her brain.
She shook her head to get the words out, but they wouldn’t fade.
“...southern shrine?”
The door was shoved open and she ran out into the corridor, chest pounding. Something was happening that she definitely had no control over. Before she realised she was moving she had stopped, right in front of a door. The voices stopped in side of her head, but unnaturally similar voices were heard faintly through the door.
She turned the handle, but it was locked shut. They obviously didn’t want anyone overhearing them. But something wanted her to open the door, so she could do nothing but comply.
The door landed with a smack on the floor, four faces turning quickly to her. She took in one, a handsome, boyish face, before she felt the harsh prick of a blade to her chin.
“Sheath your weapons,” she yelled, meaning to sound commanding but her voice coming out much more afraid.
A black haired man who had his blade securely in place huffed in half laughter, then demanded, “Who are you? Speak!”
Taking a step back so the tip of the sword no longer pressed into her skin, she bravely announced, “I am Kerlea Mathiel, daughter of the late duke of Calapei, servant to the King of Zade! Sheath your weapons or I will be forced to draw my own!”
The man studied her quickly, then slowly drew his sword back, still holding it in a nimble position in case of need. “Kerlea Mathiel, what you say may be true, but how can we trust you? What are you doing here?”
“I was coming up to my room and I heard your discussion,” she lied quickly, not thinking it necessary to go into a halfhearted explanation of some strange phenomena even she didn’t understand. “You are planning to oppose the invaders, are you not? You will need a skilled swordsman or woman.”
“We’ve already got one of those,” the man said, lifting his short sword back into view.
Kerlea forced herself not to laugh. “A short sword? Yes, you’ll get far with that.”
The man started to argue but someone from behind him said in a light voice, “Truke, stop it! Did you not hear what she said? She is a knight of Zade. And we need as many people as we can recruit.”
Kerlea nodded in smug agreement, and Truke quickly sheathed his sword in slight embarrassment.
“I will need your names,” the girl quickly announced. And she was answered just as quickly.
The plan was quickly conveyed to the newest member of their troupe, with plans to leave immediately for Tarbend. Smiling softly, she turned and headed back to her room contently. She was tired, but she could last one more night. Hopefully.
The cliff was high enough to see the entire drenched land stretch off in the fresh ruin. She stood there, hand on the hilt of her sword, frowning in the soft air.
“There’s something terrible happening to this land,” she commented softly, suddenly feeling sick.
The figure beside her nodded. “Have hope, Kerlea. Eventually the rain will end.”
And she silently agreed.
[ May 21, 2004, 05:02 AM: Message edited by: Life Critic ]
IC:
Two days previous the streets had been alive with laughter. Now it was but a mere wasteland, children’s playthings crushed under metal boots in some sort of charge for power.
The survivors said they came from the skies in swarms, seeking out refuge of their own and not afraid to greedily turn themselves into self righteous monsters in the process. The most unexpected thing was that no swords clashed and nothing splintered. They had been so efficient that you would have thought the things they had taken were never there. The likelihood of such a terrible fate was astronomical; they all thought their precious homes were safe after the famous battles of history past and were never prepared for anything of this nature.
When Kerlea Mathiel was only six, her mother died in a dragon raid of her home city of Calapei. Her father, a wealthy duke, soon lost his will to continue loving his daughter, and passed away from grief. It was when she was twelve that she ran away her lonely home with naught but her family’s heirloom, a jewel-encrusted broadsword that was so weighted that she could barely hold to defend herself. She quickly learnt how to survive without her parent’s wealth and made her way to the furthest city she could find, as far away from her old life as possible, and started something else. The city she found was none other than the economic capital of the world, Zade.
There was something much worse than what killed her mother though, as she found out several years later as she returned from her mercenary tinged job of slaying all threats to her new home on order from the young King. The town was in ruins, and instead of the friends she had made, there were only strange armoured creatures she had never seen before in her life. She, like the coward she admittedly thought herself as, turned and fled once more, hitching anonymously on a state of the art steamboat secretly ferrying survivors for Glaseim. For the two days there was no shelter in sight, and she resorted to shivering under the stars. On the third day she thanked the goddesses.
There, under the cradle of the night sky, was an illuminated inn. It was dingy and dank, but to Kerlea it looked like heaven with its candlelights and laughter. At that moment her energy seemed to return all at once, and she stood up straight as any respectable person might, smoothed out her cloak, and entered.
The sight that greeted her put a smile to her face, and she marched over to the rather large man at the bar, reached into her pockets, and placed the entirety of her measly money pouch on the tabletop.
“Yeh’ll be wanting a room, then?” the man spoke in a voice that suited his shaggy looks perfectly.
“Yes, thank you.”
He smiled a gapped tooth smile, scooped the money into his hands and turned around, unhooking a dirty smudged key from its place on the wall. Turning back, he handed it over.
“Go up the stairs, and turn left. Yeh room’s right there, first one. Good thing, yeh look like yeh haven’t had a rest in weeks! Enjoy it, lady!”
Kerlea nodded weakly. “It is much appreciated, kind sir.”
She found her room quickly a set about trying to grab some shut-eye.
She found herself lying awake, however, staring at the ceiling as a spider silently spun its web earnestly in the corner. The unsettling feeling in her stomach was worse than it had ever been before, than it had ever been in her entire life. She longed to do something with her pathetic existence, but she merely drifted from place to place, making friends then leaving for somewhere else. Sure, it wasn’t a profession but it was she. But then again, she felt empty, and drained, and for no good reason.
She felt anxious, tired, eager, sick. Yes, and a little afraid as well. But most of all she felt alone.
But she knew she wasn’t alone. She’d heard the news. The Kingdom of Zade wasn’t the only place that had been attacked. There were thousands, probably millions of people that were in the same boat that she was in, or worse. But more than anything she knew herself the best, and she knew she was alone and purposeless.
Vagabond Kerlea...
She laughed bitterly and closed her eyes, welcoming sleep, and maybe hoping that she’d never wake up.
Just as the clouds of slumber were starting to take over her eyes opened suddenly, and a headache shot through her skull.
“...right...”
“It’s so crazy, it just might work!”
The words were painfully loud, and she struggled off the mattress to her feet. It hurt something terrible, as if the words were echoing through her head. And not just those phrases, more were accompanying them. It was as though she had somehow received a foreign conversation in her brain.
She shook her head to get the words out, but they wouldn’t fade.
“...southern shrine?”
The door was shoved open and she ran out into the corridor, chest pounding. Something was happening that she definitely had no control over. Before she realised she was moving she had stopped, right in front of a door. The voices stopped in side of her head, but unnaturally similar voices were heard faintly through the door.
She turned the handle, but it was locked shut. They obviously didn’t want anyone overhearing them. But something wanted her to open the door, so she could do nothing but comply.
The door landed with a smack on the floor, four faces turning quickly to her. She took in one, a handsome, boyish face, before she felt the harsh prick of a blade to her chin.
“Sheath your weapons,” she yelled, meaning to sound commanding but her voice coming out much more afraid.
A black haired man who had his blade securely in place huffed in half laughter, then demanded, “Who are you? Speak!”
Taking a step back so the tip of the sword no longer pressed into her skin, she bravely announced, “I am Kerlea Mathiel, daughter of the late duke of Calapei, servant to the King of Zade! Sheath your weapons or I will be forced to draw my own!”
The man studied her quickly, then slowly drew his sword back, still holding it in a nimble position in case of need. “Kerlea Mathiel, what you say may be true, but how can we trust you? What are you doing here?”
“I was coming up to my room and I heard your discussion,” she lied quickly, not thinking it necessary to go into a halfhearted explanation of some strange phenomena even she didn’t understand. “You are planning to oppose the invaders, are you not? You will need a skilled swordsman or woman.”
“We’ve already got one of those,” the man said, lifting his short sword back into view.
Kerlea forced herself not to laugh. “A short sword? Yes, you’ll get far with that.”
The man started to argue but someone from behind him said in a light voice, “Truke, stop it! Did you not hear what she said? She is a knight of Zade. And we need as many people as we can recruit.”
Kerlea nodded in smug agreement, and Truke quickly sheathed his sword in slight embarrassment.
“I will need your names,” the girl quickly announced. And she was answered just as quickly.
The plan was quickly conveyed to the newest member of their troupe, with plans to leave immediately for Tarbend. Smiling softly, she turned and headed back to her room contently. She was tired, but she could last one more night. Hopefully.
The cliff was high enough to see the entire drenched land stretch off in the fresh ruin. She stood there, hand on the hilt of her sword, frowning in the soft air.
“There’s something terrible happening to this land,” she commented softly, suddenly feeling sick.
The figure beside her nodded. “Have hope, Kerlea. Eventually the rain will end.”
And she silently agreed.
[ May 21, 2004, 05:02 AM: Message edited by: Life Critic ]
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Prince Toad
- Member
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- Location: Rookery
- Contact:
Rial awoke to a soft shaking sensation. He rolled over uncomfortably and squinted up at the intruder. In the dim light of predawn, he was unable to make out the figure's features. It was saying something, but the bard was too drowsy to comprehend. After some time of this, Rial closed his eyes once more. Immediately he felt a sharp slap on his left cheek. It was so hard that it knocked him clear out of his bed.
Rial: Gah! What the hell, man?
Kerlea: Woman. It's Kerlea. Something is wrong.
Rial: How did you get in here?
Kerlea: Pretty hasty repair job on the hinges, boy. Get up.
The singer complied. He tied his lute to his hip and put his Orb in its compartment on his belt. He was reaching over his back, securing his crossed sheaths in place, when the Zadean knight instructed him to remove his swords and keep them ready. They left the room, lady first, and retreated into the hall. There, Rial found his three new companions waiting. They moved down the hall towards the ashen stairs.
Raen was the first to notice the flames, commenting on the unusual heat before he reached the single landing on the steps. He headed the group down the flight. The former mercenary's eyes widened and he audibly cried out as he witnessed the conflagration.
Raen: It's on fire! We've got to get out of here!
Kerlea: I knew it...
Raen: You, bard, you've been here before, where's a fair exit?
Rial: The whole common room is aflame?
Scimitar clenched in both hands, held in front of his body, Raen appeared ready to slash off the flames.
Raen: Yes! Now tell us!
Rial: Ahh... um... I guess we could try the window in my room...
Raen: Straight to the ground? Try again.
Truke: Let's just bull our way through here, it's probably burned the door down.
Just then, a sharp craaaaack was heard from above. A huge beam dropped heavily to the ground, breaking into four hefty pieces of solid wood.
Truke: Oh...
Kerlea: Well, your Orbs! White and gray, weren't they?
Another beam fell then. The inn was collapsing in on itself.
Raen: Very well, here goes...
Raen and Rial fumbled with their pockets and belts. Raen was the first to retrieve his prize, immediately invoking its power. Clarity returned to each member's mind, causing them to appraise the fire logically and unemotionally, with little thought for their own peril. Rial came up with his own white sphere and tossed it into the air, singing the first few lyrics of "Ne'er Broken." When the Orb played the heroic song in each one's mind, all present felt braver, fearless even, although Kerlea kept some of her ever-present doubts about her own ability.
Truke's eyes meandered about the room, clear and courageous. Finally, he spied a path through to a window. It was twisting, unsure, and full of the flames that were engulfling them all, but the only way of escaping their certain deaths. He threw his sword arm in front of him, holding his dull blade, and charged through, spinning and dodging his way across the floor as though in a dream. Rial, Kerlea, Aeros and finally Raen, who had still been scanning the room for an exit, followed the cloaked warrior. Leaping over a charred sill and through the frame of his target window, Truke made good his flight. The rest of the party streamed through in his wake. Kerlea and Raen hit the ground rolling, their fighter's instincts pricking up immediately, but Rial and Aeros were clumsier, crashing to a halt a few yards from the burning building.
All five looked back to watch the Black Cat turn to char and ash. As the screams began, Truke and Kerlea glanced away, unwilling to bear the load of such horror. Raen stared angrily into the inferno, swearing revenge against whatever had made such an attempt, direct or indirect, on his life. Aeros watched dispassionately, his misty blue eyes taking in the scene with hidden sadness. Rial bit his lip and slowly untied the knot securing his lute. With tears in his eyes, he dropped to the ground, and began to play "Alder's Flames." It was a haunting, melancholy melody. He thought of the inn as he sang, the Black Cat which had saved his life and been his home for what seemed like years, although was in fact hardly a matter of months. After the first chorus he choked on his words, lowering his eyes in sorrow.
The flames licked at the skies for a final time, eventually dying down with the shouts and pleas for mercy from a deaf foe. By then, all present were glaring down the road to Tarbend, many a mile from their current location. Rial was the first to step forward. He forced himself to do it again. And again. Glancing back at his comrades, he put his lute back and motioned for them to follow. He spoke softly.
Rial: This was not a natural fire. We were not cautious enough. This was our doing. We're hunted already. I can only assume it was the elves... but whoever it was, we will find them, and they will pay dearly. Now come on. We've nothing left here.
The five set out down the beaten, rutty path, for distant Tarbend and revenge.
[ November 06, 2004, 10:40 PM: Message edited by: Prince Toad ]
Rial: Gah! What the hell, man?
Kerlea: Woman. It's Kerlea. Something is wrong.
Rial: How did you get in here?
Kerlea: Pretty hasty repair job on the hinges, boy. Get up.
The singer complied. He tied his lute to his hip and put his Orb in its compartment on his belt. He was reaching over his back, securing his crossed sheaths in place, when the Zadean knight instructed him to remove his swords and keep them ready. They left the room, lady first, and retreated into the hall. There, Rial found his three new companions waiting. They moved down the hall towards the ashen stairs.
Raen was the first to notice the flames, commenting on the unusual heat before he reached the single landing on the steps. He headed the group down the flight. The former mercenary's eyes widened and he audibly cried out as he witnessed the conflagration.
Raen: It's on fire! We've got to get out of here!
Kerlea: I knew it...
Raen: You, bard, you've been here before, where's a fair exit?
Rial: The whole common room is aflame?
Scimitar clenched in both hands, held in front of his body, Raen appeared ready to slash off the flames.
Raen: Yes! Now tell us!
Rial: Ahh... um... I guess we could try the window in my room...
Raen: Straight to the ground? Try again.
Truke: Let's just bull our way through here, it's probably burned the door down.
Just then, a sharp craaaaack was heard from above. A huge beam dropped heavily to the ground, breaking into four hefty pieces of solid wood.
Truke: Oh...
Kerlea: Well, your Orbs! White and gray, weren't they?
Another beam fell then. The inn was collapsing in on itself.
Raen: Very well, here goes...
Raen and Rial fumbled with their pockets and belts. Raen was the first to retrieve his prize, immediately invoking its power. Clarity returned to each member's mind, causing them to appraise the fire logically and unemotionally, with little thought for their own peril. Rial came up with his own white sphere and tossed it into the air, singing the first few lyrics of "Ne'er Broken." When the Orb played the heroic song in each one's mind, all present felt braver, fearless even, although Kerlea kept some of her ever-present doubts about her own ability.
Truke's eyes meandered about the room, clear and courageous. Finally, he spied a path through to a window. It was twisting, unsure, and full of the flames that were engulfling them all, but the only way of escaping their certain deaths. He threw his sword arm in front of him, holding his dull blade, and charged through, spinning and dodging his way across the floor as though in a dream. Rial, Kerlea, Aeros and finally Raen, who had still been scanning the room for an exit, followed the cloaked warrior. Leaping over a charred sill and through the frame of his target window, Truke made good his flight. The rest of the party streamed through in his wake. Kerlea and Raen hit the ground rolling, their fighter's instincts pricking up immediately, but Rial and Aeros were clumsier, crashing to a halt a few yards from the burning building.
All five looked back to watch the Black Cat turn to char and ash. As the screams began, Truke and Kerlea glanced away, unwilling to bear the load of such horror. Raen stared angrily into the inferno, swearing revenge against whatever had made such an attempt, direct or indirect, on his life. Aeros watched dispassionately, his misty blue eyes taking in the scene with hidden sadness. Rial bit his lip and slowly untied the knot securing his lute. With tears in his eyes, he dropped to the ground, and began to play "Alder's Flames." It was a haunting, melancholy melody. He thought of the inn as he sang, the Black Cat which had saved his life and been his home for what seemed like years, although was in fact hardly a matter of months. After the first chorus he choked on his words, lowering his eyes in sorrow.
The flames licked at the skies for a final time, eventually dying down with the shouts and pleas for mercy from a deaf foe. By then, all present were glaring down the road to Tarbend, many a mile from their current location. Rial was the first to step forward. He forced himself to do it again. And again. Glancing back at his comrades, he put his lute back and motioned for them to follow. He spoke softly.
Rial: This was not a natural fire. We were not cautious enough. This was our doing. We're hunted already. I can only assume it was the elves... but whoever it was, we will find them, and they will pay dearly. Now come on. We've nothing left here.
The five set out down the beaten, rutty path, for distant Tarbend and revenge.
[ November 06, 2004, 10:40 PM: Message edited by: Prince Toad ]
Prince Toad, the shroom-o-doom
^Proud member of the Circum-flex Revolution!
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Blake
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Earlier in the day, it had been quite breezy and cool, but it was beginning to get more dry and hot outside. Tall trees around the path however, shielded the warriors from the heat rays of the sun.
The warriors remained silent ever since the burning of the Black Cat Inn. Rial had been quiet, most likely thinking about his friends at the Black Cat. Raen was walking ahead of the group, keeping vigilant eyes on the trail set before and around them, Aeros was focusing some energy to get any idea where an amulet can be found, Kerlea was looking at her 'new' companions, wondering if they were capable of fighting. Lastly, Truke looked at his own feet as he walked, wondering when they would come across an elf.
After a long while, Rial had spoken up before anyone else.
"Is anyone hungry?" He asked rather bluntly, hoping he had sounded more cheerful.
Although they knew they should eat, each refused; each just wanted to reach Tarbend and hopefully relieve themselves of the horrifying memories earlier from that day.
After a lot more trekking through the path, they heard a rustling in the trees. Everyone pulled out their weapons quickly, except for Raen, who was the only one that doubted there was anything wrong. The warriors each turned, and closed in back to back, looking in the woods. From Raen and Rial's view, they had seen a vague figure in the woods, running and disappearing almost in an instant.
"Are we safe?" questioned Kerlea.
"It was an elf, nobody can walk through the woods that quickly and silently," responded Rial in a calm voice.
"It can be the elf that burned down the Black Cat, or it may not. Let's kill it anyway though," Truke answered, looking to see if his plan would be approved.
"Sounds fun to me," Raen replied.
"I wouldn't recommend attacking the Elves just yet. We'll look as vile and as aggressive as they are," Aeros said.
"Besides, walking into the woods with elves patrolling is suicide," agreed Kerlea.
"But we are being hunted afterall Aeros; we're only defending ourselves," Raen pointed out.
"Let us see what Rial has to say," Kerlea said, and the group agreed to follow Rial's decision.
Rial pondered the situation a bit. They were far from Tarbend. This meant a long way to safety, but also a long dangerous road to Tarbend. After a few minutes, he made his mind up.
[ May 27, 2004, 07:22 PM: Message edited by: Guy That Goes To The Roleplay Forum ]
The warriors remained silent ever since the burning of the Black Cat Inn. Rial had been quiet, most likely thinking about his friends at the Black Cat. Raen was walking ahead of the group, keeping vigilant eyes on the trail set before and around them, Aeros was focusing some energy to get any idea where an amulet can be found, Kerlea was looking at her 'new' companions, wondering if they were capable of fighting. Lastly, Truke looked at his own feet as he walked, wondering when they would come across an elf.
After a long while, Rial had spoken up before anyone else.
"Is anyone hungry?" He asked rather bluntly, hoping he had sounded more cheerful.
Although they knew they should eat, each refused; each just wanted to reach Tarbend and hopefully relieve themselves of the horrifying memories earlier from that day.
After a lot more trekking through the path, they heard a rustling in the trees. Everyone pulled out their weapons quickly, except for Raen, who was the only one that doubted there was anything wrong. The warriors each turned, and closed in back to back, looking in the woods. From Raen and Rial's view, they had seen a vague figure in the woods, running and disappearing almost in an instant.
"Are we safe?" questioned Kerlea.
"It was an elf, nobody can walk through the woods that quickly and silently," responded Rial in a calm voice.
"It can be the elf that burned down the Black Cat, or it may not. Let's kill it anyway though," Truke answered, looking to see if his plan would be approved.
"Sounds fun to me," Raen replied.
"I wouldn't recommend attacking the Elves just yet. We'll look as vile and as aggressive as they are," Aeros said.
"Besides, walking into the woods with elves patrolling is suicide," agreed Kerlea.
"But we are being hunted afterall Aeros; we're only defending ourselves," Raen pointed out.
"Let us see what Rial has to say," Kerlea said, and the group agreed to follow Rial's decision.
Rial pondered the situation a bit. They were far from Tarbend. This meant a long way to safety, but also a long dangerous road to Tarbend. After a few minutes, he made his mind up.
[ May 27, 2004, 07:22 PM: Message edited by: Guy That Goes To The Roleplay Forum ]
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Prince Toad
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Rial whispered his response, peering about warily into the surrounding brush.
Rial: No. It's too chancy. That elf probably has backup, and besides, maybe they think we're dead, or we're not their targets, or they don't know who their targets are. By attacking, we risk giving ourselves up and worse, defeat.
Raen: Ah, a matter of courage? Come, singer, we're not all craven.
Rial: Pull your sword out of your skull and your head out of your rear. Perhaps you like to rush headlong into things and be forced to cut your way out, and I'm sure you've grown skillful at it, but this is a greater force than you know, from what I've seen. Probably greater than any of us know, myself included. We've got to make every attempt at stealth until we obtain an amulet, and can hope to battle their destructive magic. That means no attacks unless we're cornered and there's no other way. Don't look at me like that, Raen, you'll get plenty of blood and swordsong when we've got an amulet around someone's neck. But until such time, we've got to play it safe.
Kerlea: Well spoken. But what about those bandits?
Rial: Hm?
Kerlea: The ones watching us from that little grove there. I saw one of 'em run in there, and if I could notice him in the forest, well, he's probably not an elf.
Rial: Ah... well, we're not going to be robbed or murdered...
Truke (drawing his sword): So let's get this over with.
Aeros (reaching into pocket): Allow me. Wind Cutter!
The magician held up his lavender Orb, which emitted a clear but distorted wave of energy as the air pulsed forth from its center. The blast hacked into the grove, blowing away the underbrush and shrubbery surrounding the bandit group. When it died down, half a dozen poorly clad fighters emerged, weapons at the ready.
Bandit: Your crescents, or your lives? I'll have one of them-- your choice!
Raen (charging): I'll kill you!
Rial (reaching back and unsheathing his blades): Well then... let us dance!
The other warriors drew their own weapons and went into the positions they were used to fighting in. Kerlea went front and center, accustomed to the disciplined ranks of the Zadean army. Raen was already among them, scimitar whirling madly as he spun and slashed, dodging with uncanny ability. Truke moved off to one side of the former knight, advancing rapidly into the enemy. Aeros stood back and cast Learnt Spells, hurling Air-element incantations at the foe. Rial cautiously entered the fray after considering briefly whether to fight or apply his musical talents, which he knew inspired courage and bravery in his companions.
The four swordsmen (three and one swordswoman, anyway) made quick work of their assaulters. The rogues used inferior-quality axes and short blades, against the Jesteral steel of Kerlea, Truke, and Rial, and Raen's mysterious but powerful scimitar. Aeros's backup sealed the job. After no more than a couple minutes of hard combat, the outlaws were routed, four dead and two fleeing into the forest.
The group surveyed the scene. Raen immediately began looting the corpses of their sparing valuables, finding no more than a few crescents throughout and a wicked-looking dagger concealed in the sleeves of one of the dead. He tucked away the dagger into his tunic and stood up, his scavenging complete. The other four took no part, but except Kerlea, who somewhat objected to the practice, citing it as dishonorable, did not really seem to mind. The knight insisted on a proper burial, which was carried out hastily before moving on and traveling for the remainder of the day.
The rest of the journey passed more or less uneventfully. Truke, Rial, and Raen proved competent hunters and gatherers, and the other two obtained firewood for their nightly camp. A week and a day passed similarly, until finally a sign invited them to Tarbend, "Glaseim's Port to the World." In reality, the place was little more than a small town, except for the great docks that stretched over a mile across the beach. Ships were moored at various spots along the shoreline, several of which were being loaded onto or unloaded from by burly sailors.
Truke: Shall we enter?
Rial: Let's go.
The party entered through the low gates, greeted by the smell of the sea.
[ June 08, 2004, 03:53 PM: Message edited by: Prince Toad ]
Rial: No. It's too chancy. That elf probably has backup, and besides, maybe they think we're dead, or we're not their targets, or they don't know who their targets are. By attacking, we risk giving ourselves up and worse, defeat.
Raen: Ah, a matter of courage? Come, singer, we're not all craven.
Rial: Pull your sword out of your skull and your head out of your rear. Perhaps you like to rush headlong into things and be forced to cut your way out, and I'm sure you've grown skillful at it, but this is a greater force than you know, from what I've seen. Probably greater than any of us know, myself included. We've got to make every attempt at stealth until we obtain an amulet, and can hope to battle their destructive magic. That means no attacks unless we're cornered and there's no other way. Don't look at me like that, Raen, you'll get plenty of blood and swordsong when we've got an amulet around someone's neck. But until such time, we've got to play it safe.
Kerlea: Well spoken. But what about those bandits?
Rial: Hm?
Kerlea: The ones watching us from that little grove there. I saw one of 'em run in there, and if I could notice him in the forest, well, he's probably not an elf.
Rial: Ah... well, we're not going to be robbed or murdered...
Truke (drawing his sword): So let's get this over with.
Aeros (reaching into pocket): Allow me. Wind Cutter!
The magician held up his lavender Orb, which emitted a clear but distorted wave of energy as the air pulsed forth from its center. The blast hacked into the grove, blowing away the underbrush and shrubbery surrounding the bandit group. When it died down, half a dozen poorly clad fighters emerged, weapons at the ready.
Bandit: Your crescents, or your lives? I'll have one of them-- your choice!
Raen (charging): I'll kill you!
Rial (reaching back and unsheathing his blades): Well then... let us dance!
The other warriors drew their own weapons and went into the positions they were used to fighting in. Kerlea went front and center, accustomed to the disciplined ranks of the Zadean army. Raen was already among them, scimitar whirling madly as he spun and slashed, dodging with uncanny ability. Truke moved off to one side of the former knight, advancing rapidly into the enemy. Aeros stood back and cast Learnt Spells, hurling Air-element incantations at the foe. Rial cautiously entered the fray after considering briefly whether to fight or apply his musical talents, which he knew inspired courage and bravery in his companions.
The four swordsmen (three and one swordswoman, anyway) made quick work of their assaulters. The rogues used inferior-quality axes and short blades, against the Jesteral steel of Kerlea, Truke, and Rial, and Raen's mysterious but powerful scimitar. Aeros's backup sealed the job. After no more than a couple minutes of hard combat, the outlaws were routed, four dead and two fleeing into the forest.
The group surveyed the scene. Raen immediately began looting the corpses of their sparing valuables, finding no more than a few crescents throughout and a wicked-looking dagger concealed in the sleeves of one of the dead. He tucked away the dagger into his tunic and stood up, his scavenging complete. The other four took no part, but except Kerlea, who somewhat objected to the practice, citing it as dishonorable, did not really seem to mind. The knight insisted on a proper burial, which was carried out hastily before moving on and traveling for the remainder of the day.
The rest of the journey passed more or less uneventfully. Truke, Rial, and Raen proved competent hunters and gatherers, and the other two obtained firewood for their nightly camp. A week and a day passed similarly, until finally a sign invited them to Tarbend, "Glaseim's Port to the World." In reality, the place was little more than a small town, except for the great docks that stretched over a mile across the beach. Ships were moored at various spots along the shoreline, several of which were being loaded onto or unloaded from by burly sailors.
Truke: Shall we enter?
Rial: Let's go.
The party entered through the low gates, greeted by the smell of the sea.
[ June 08, 2004, 03:53 PM: Message edited by: Prince Toad ]
Prince Toad, the shroom-o-doom
^Proud member of the Circum-flex Revolution!
^Proud member of the Circum-flex Revolution!
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Lord Umbra
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- Location: Tangiers
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The small town was extremely unimpressive to Raen. How did a place with such a large port remain so small and shabby? It would be reasonable to think that all the trade brought by ships would bring commerce, wealth, and prosperity. An uneasy feeling grew inside him, and Raen felt himself becoming tense. Something was definitely odd about the port of Tarbend.
"Is it just me or is this place odd? It seems so unusual..." Raen was curious if he was missing something out. Perhaps he was just looking into things too much.
Rial seemed surprised at the question as he replied, "Tarbend seems perfectly normal to me. Ships, sailor, citizens walking about, fishermen, a market of sorts, a few warehouses... Everything that belongs in a coastal town. I do not see what you mean."
"But this is not a coastal town! This is Tarbend, the great port of Glaseim. The commerce brought about by the commerce from at least over a hundred merchant ships should have made this place a thriving city. Intead, we walk in a rather dull town. Salt and moisture corrodes the buildings and monuments, that inn's foundation is probably starting to become rotten. Don't you see?" Raen's reply was harsh and bitter.
Raen saw that he was becoming overly frustrated. He quickly took out his orb and invoked it's spell. A soothing feeling spread through his tense body, calming the swordsmen. "Do you all understand? I feel that there's something wrong here, and it needs explaining. Am I merely overlooking something obvious?"
[ May 28, 2004, 10:17 AM: Message edited by: Lord Umbra ]
"Is it just me or is this place odd? It seems so unusual..." Raen was curious if he was missing something out. Perhaps he was just looking into things too much.
Rial seemed surprised at the question as he replied, "Tarbend seems perfectly normal to me. Ships, sailor, citizens walking about, fishermen, a market of sorts, a few warehouses... Everything that belongs in a coastal town. I do not see what you mean."
"But this is not a coastal town! This is Tarbend, the great port of Glaseim. The commerce brought about by the commerce from at least over a hundred merchant ships should have made this place a thriving city. Intead, we walk in a rather dull town. Salt and moisture corrodes the buildings and monuments, that inn's foundation is probably starting to become rotten. Don't you see?" Raen's reply was harsh and bitter.
Raen saw that he was becoming overly frustrated. He quickly took out his orb and invoked it's spell. A soothing feeling spread through his tense body, calming the swordsmen. "Do you all understand? I feel that there's something wrong here, and it needs explaining. Am I merely overlooking something obvious?"
[ May 28, 2004, 10:17 AM: Message edited by: Lord Umbra ]
\"Be kind to your neighbor. He knows where you live.\"
- Anon.
- Anon.
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Prince Toad
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OOC: Screw you, LU. You're still mad about that "forest on the plains" thing from FERP, aren't you? [img]graemlins/lol.gif[/img] Fine, I'll turn it into plot, just to annoy you.
IC:
Rial: You're right, that is strange... perhaps something is amiss?
Raen: Finally...
Aeros: But what? What would prevent the actual growth of a city?
Truke: Maybe that sign was lying... I know a lot of trade goes through Ashland Beach to the north and Cothran to the northwest. No real need to unload so much here.
Raen: No, if that was so, the docks would be smaller. There is something wrong, I know it.
Kerlea: Let's just ask one of the townspeople.
Rial: Good thought.
The party strolled around the dusty streets, marking their poor maintenance and relative filth. Passing through what seemed to be the residential zone, they noticed that what housing was there seemed to be largely unoccupied, and in various states of disrepair.
They came upon a sizeable inn, the Kraken, with a sign holding a purplish octopus-like creature swinging just above the door. Rial pushed open the portal and strode inside.
The Kraken appeared to be the busiest place in town. A group of sailors in identical outfits was at the bar, lustily singing a drinking song and raising their tankards high, taking a swig when the tune demanded it. The bounty of the sea appeared to be the only thing on the menu, which soured all of their appetites except Kerlea's. About three-quarters of the tables were full of crewmen, wenches, captains, and merchants. Serving girls carried seafood and ale throughout, placing the orders before the orderers.
Rial: Well... you go take a seat, I'll try to get some information out of the bartender.
The others nodded, and the bard approached the counter behind which a lean, hard man was tapping drinks and bringing them to the sailors, whose song was winding down.
Rial: Sir! A drink, and a question, if you would.
The man grudgingly obliged.
Bartender: Two crescents, and what's yer need?
Rial: You've lived here a long time, right?
Bartender: Aye, that's so.
Rial: So... this is my first occasion of visiting Tarbend, and... I can't help but wonder. Why is it that this great port town is so delapidated and, well, small?
Bartender: Two reasons fer that. First, this town's been around since Glaseim was settled, and it hasn't aged well. Used ta be the greatest city on the continent, but now all we've got left is the docks.
Rial: Why? What happened?
Bartender: Ya didn't let me finish, boy. This town's been threatened by every monster, ghost, and outlaw you can think of. Place is cursed, some say. Heard grumbling about some ancient lord who had 'is grave robbed and wants 'is axe back. S'posed ta be buried beneath that huge maple tree just out o' the gates. If ya want ta pay a visit there, you'll prob'ly find it. Lot of people want ta get that hex removed, want ta put Tarbend back ta its former glory. Myself, business is fine fer me... just a few creepy moments when I'm beddin' down for the night, maybe once a week.
Rial: Do you know any more about the curse?
Bartender: Nah. Ol' Randas, the innkeep here, he's prob'ly got some knowledge I'm missin'.
Sailor: Another round, barkeep!
Bartender: Yeah, yeah. Look, if ya want ta go ask Randas about it, he's prob'ly in the kitchens.
Rial: Thanks.
The bard returned to his companions.
Rial: Okay, I think I found it out. Seems the place is cursed, and constantly threatened by, well, pretty much everything. Apparently some old lord of the town wants his axe back, since his grave was robbed.
Raen: Well, that sort of explains it. Why the huge docks?
Rial: Used to be a huge port town, but now it's pretty much a shadow of its former self.
Raen: Ah.
Truke: So what? All we want here is passage.
Rial: Yeah...
Aeros: How much would that cost us?
Rial: Not sure. Passage to the mainland... I'd imagine it'd be fairly pricey.
Kerlea: What's our combined funds? I've got a lunar and a dozen crescents, maybe a few stars.
Aeros: All I have on me is seven crescents, five stars.
Truke: I've got nothing but some stars.
Raen: Same.
Rial: I've a few crescents and two lunars, nothing more. Bastards burned all of our savings at the Black Cat...
Kerlea: So we've got maybe half a solar in total. Passage for five, to the elf-infested mainland... we can try.
Truke: Let's try the docks.
They left the Kraken and headed to the docks. They asked several captains if any were headed to the mainland, but all rejected the thought. Half a solar was not enough to change any minds. The second-to-last ship on the docks was the Shore Runner, a fast, small galleas. The captain was overseeing the unloading of the various goods contained on deck. Seeing nothing to stop them, the five companions walked up the gangplank and requested a word with the captain.
Captain: Aye?
Kerlea: We need passage to the mainland. We'll pay, but all we have is three lunars and about twenty-five crescents, with our stars thrown in.
Captain: No can do.
A thought came to Rial's head. He blurted it out.
Rial: What about the curse?
Captain: What about it?
Rial: Er... uh... doesn't it hurt your trade? Wouldn't it be far more convenient and profitable if Tarbend were to be restored?
Captain: Aye...
Rial: So if we lift the curse... will you grant us passage?
Captain: Where are ye bound?
Rial: Around Thunder Cape, to the coves on Zade's east coast.
Captain: Ye're all mad. But I can't help but like you, and the wench over there's pretty enough.
Kerlea (reddening): ...
Captain: So, I'm agreed. You go miraculously lift the curse o' Tarbend, and I'll grant ye passage. I'll even stay here a week, starting tomorrow, just to humor myself. That's all ye've got. I'll even come with ye, just so I know yer not lyin'. Valmein!
A sailor rushed up and smartly saluted.
Captain: Ye've been a good first mate. Yer captain while I'm gone.
Valmein: You'll be gone, sir?
Captain: Yeah, these madmen are going to try to lift the curse o' Tarbend. I'm going with, to make sure there's no foul play. Yer to keep the Runner in port until I'm back in a week. If ye don't see any of us after ten days, we're dead, and the Runner's yers. But don't get any funny ideas.
Valmein: Aye aye, captain!
The captain turned to the small party.
Captain: Well, let's get on with this, then.
OOC: Suck it, LU.
Prince Toad, the shroom-o-doom
[ May 26, 2005, 10:29 PM: Message edited by: Prince Toad ]
IC:
Rial: You're right, that is strange... perhaps something is amiss?
Raen: Finally...
Aeros: But what? What would prevent the actual growth of a city?
Truke: Maybe that sign was lying... I know a lot of trade goes through Ashland Beach to the north and Cothran to the northwest. No real need to unload so much here.
Raen: No, if that was so, the docks would be smaller. There is something wrong, I know it.
Kerlea: Let's just ask one of the townspeople.
Rial: Good thought.
The party strolled around the dusty streets, marking their poor maintenance and relative filth. Passing through what seemed to be the residential zone, they noticed that what housing was there seemed to be largely unoccupied, and in various states of disrepair.
They came upon a sizeable inn, the Kraken, with a sign holding a purplish octopus-like creature swinging just above the door. Rial pushed open the portal and strode inside.
The Kraken appeared to be the busiest place in town. A group of sailors in identical outfits was at the bar, lustily singing a drinking song and raising their tankards high, taking a swig when the tune demanded it. The bounty of the sea appeared to be the only thing on the menu, which soured all of their appetites except Kerlea's. About three-quarters of the tables were full of crewmen, wenches, captains, and merchants. Serving girls carried seafood and ale throughout, placing the orders before the orderers.
Rial: Well... you go take a seat, I'll try to get some information out of the bartender.
The others nodded, and the bard approached the counter behind which a lean, hard man was tapping drinks and bringing them to the sailors, whose song was winding down.
Rial: Sir! A drink, and a question, if you would.
The man grudgingly obliged.
Bartender: Two crescents, and what's yer need?
Rial: You've lived here a long time, right?
Bartender: Aye, that's so.
Rial: So... this is my first occasion of visiting Tarbend, and... I can't help but wonder. Why is it that this great port town is so delapidated and, well, small?
Bartender: Two reasons fer that. First, this town's been around since Glaseim was settled, and it hasn't aged well. Used ta be the greatest city on the continent, but now all we've got left is the docks.
Rial: Why? What happened?
Bartender: Ya didn't let me finish, boy. This town's been threatened by every monster, ghost, and outlaw you can think of. Place is cursed, some say. Heard grumbling about some ancient lord who had 'is grave robbed and wants 'is axe back. S'posed ta be buried beneath that huge maple tree just out o' the gates. If ya want ta pay a visit there, you'll prob'ly find it. Lot of people want ta get that hex removed, want ta put Tarbend back ta its former glory. Myself, business is fine fer me... just a few creepy moments when I'm beddin' down for the night, maybe once a week.
Rial: Do you know any more about the curse?
Bartender: Nah. Ol' Randas, the innkeep here, he's prob'ly got some knowledge I'm missin'.
Sailor: Another round, barkeep!
Bartender: Yeah, yeah. Look, if ya want ta go ask Randas about it, he's prob'ly in the kitchens.
Rial: Thanks.
The bard returned to his companions.
Rial: Okay, I think I found it out. Seems the place is cursed, and constantly threatened by, well, pretty much everything. Apparently some old lord of the town wants his axe back, since his grave was robbed.
Raen: Well, that sort of explains it. Why the huge docks?
Rial: Used to be a huge port town, but now it's pretty much a shadow of its former self.
Raen: Ah.
Truke: So what? All we want here is passage.
Rial: Yeah...
Aeros: How much would that cost us?
Rial: Not sure. Passage to the mainland... I'd imagine it'd be fairly pricey.
Kerlea: What's our combined funds? I've got a lunar and a dozen crescents, maybe a few stars.
Aeros: All I have on me is seven crescents, five stars.
Truke: I've got nothing but some stars.
Raen: Same.
Rial: I've a few crescents and two lunars, nothing more. Bastards burned all of our savings at the Black Cat...
Kerlea: So we've got maybe half a solar in total. Passage for five, to the elf-infested mainland... we can try.
Truke: Let's try the docks.
They left the Kraken and headed to the docks. They asked several captains if any were headed to the mainland, but all rejected the thought. Half a solar was not enough to change any minds. The second-to-last ship on the docks was the Shore Runner, a fast, small galleas. The captain was overseeing the unloading of the various goods contained on deck. Seeing nothing to stop them, the five companions walked up the gangplank and requested a word with the captain.
Captain: Aye?
Kerlea: We need passage to the mainland. We'll pay, but all we have is three lunars and about twenty-five crescents, with our stars thrown in.
Captain: No can do.
A thought came to Rial's head. He blurted it out.
Rial: What about the curse?
Captain: What about it?
Rial: Er... uh... doesn't it hurt your trade? Wouldn't it be far more convenient and profitable if Tarbend were to be restored?
Captain: Aye...
Rial: So if we lift the curse... will you grant us passage?
Captain: Where are ye bound?
Rial: Around Thunder Cape, to the coves on Zade's east coast.
Captain: Ye're all mad. But I can't help but like you, and the wench over there's pretty enough.
Kerlea (reddening): ...
Captain: So, I'm agreed. You go miraculously lift the curse o' Tarbend, and I'll grant ye passage. I'll even stay here a week, starting tomorrow, just to humor myself. That's all ye've got. I'll even come with ye, just so I know yer not lyin'. Valmein!
A sailor rushed up and smartly saluted.
Captain: Ye've been a good first mate. Yer captain while I'm gone.
Valmein: You'll be gone, sir?
Captain: Yeah, these madmen are going to try to lift the curse o' Tarbend. I'm going with, to make sure there's no foul play. Yer to keep the Runner in port until I'm back in a week. If ye don't see any of us after ten days, we're dead, and the Runner's yers. But don't get any funny ideas.
Valmein: Aye aye, captain!
The captain turned to the small party.
Captain: Well, let's get on with this, then.
OOC: Suck it, LU.
Prince Toad, the shroom-o-doom
[ May 26, 2005, 10:29 PM: Message edited by: Prince Toad ]
Prince Toad, the shroom-o-doom
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^Proud member of the Circum-flex Revolution!
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Blake
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Lord Umbra
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OOC: I'm not mad, I was just proving a point. Anybody can write something that doesn't make sense.
IC:
The group travelled to the Lord's grave, but it proved to be futile. All that could be seen was a weatherbeaten stone with carvings on it, and a small crypt with the lord's skeleton. Raen would have shrugged off the whole story of the curse, if the skeleton had not been missing a hand. Apparently the tombrobbers had been unable to pry the axe from the Lord's dead hands, and had to take the hand along with the axe. Nothing else was supposed to be in the crypt, the axe had been the only item the Lord wished to take with him.
The axe must have been worth a large amount, otherwise the robbers would not have risked the dangers of stealing from a lord. Deceased or not, offenders would have to deal with the Lord's offspring if they were caught.
"Well there ye go. Here is the tomb, now how do ye plan to go about removing the curse in a week?" The captain seemed to find the whole thing amusing.
"Do you know of the folklore about this lore? Myths, tales, and whatnot?" Rial began to question the captain.
"'Tis rubbish, but ye were right to ask me. I know many a tale about this tomb."
And thus began something of a storytime marathon. It had begun to rain, so the adventurers huddled up in the small crypt to listen. What seemed to be a perpetual river of stories spilled forth from the mariner's mouth. The Lord's own name varied from stupendous tale to another, bringing many grimaces to the party members. How accurate could any information be if the Lord's own name was not a common fact?
Raen began to doze off, boredom filling his mind. The rhythmic speaking of the captain soon lulled him into a deep sleep. Memories of past tales blended into a nightmarish vision, where the crypt was secretly just an entrance to a vast maze beneath the earth.
[ June 04, 2004, 05:48 PM: Message edited by: Lord Umbra ]
IC:
The group travelled to the Lord's grave, but it proved to be futile. All that could be seen was a weatherbeaten stone with carvings on it, and a small crypt with the lord's skeleton. Raen would have shrugged off the whole story of the curse, if the skeleton had not been missing a hand. Apparently the tombrobbers had been unable to pry the axe from the Lord's dead hands, and had to take the hand along with the axe. Nothing else was supposed to be in the crypt, the axe had been the only item the Lord wished to take with him.
The axe must have been worth a large amount, otherwise the robbers would not have risked the dangers of stealing from a lord. Deceased or not, offenders would have to deal with the Lord's offspring if they were caught.
"Well there ye go. Here is the tomb, now how do ye plan to go about removing the curse in a week?" The captain seemed to find the whole thing amusing.
"Do you know of the folklore about this lore? Myths, tales, and whatnot?" Rial began to question the captain.
"'Tis rubbish, but ye were right to ask me. I know many a tale about this tomb."
And thus began something of a storytime marathon. It had begun to rain, so the adventurers huddled up in the small crypt to listen. What seemed to be a perpetual river of stories spilled forth from the mariner's mouth. The Lord's own name varied from stupendous tale to another, bringing many grimaces to the party members. How accurate could any information be if the Lord's own name was not a common fact?
Raen began to doze off, boredom filling his mind. The rhythmic speaking of the captain soon lulled him into a deep sleep. Memories of past tales blended into a nightmarish vision, where the crypt was secretly just an entrance to a vast maze beneath the earth.
[ June 04, 2004, 05:48 PM: Message edited by: Lord Umbra ]
\"Be kind to your neighbor. He knows where you live.\"
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- Anon.
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Blake
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After the group had left Tarbend to search for the Lord's Crypt, Truke had aimlessly walked about town and checked on the ships every so often. He knew the ships wouldn't leave the shores, but knew he was being hunted and had decided staying in public would be the safest way to fend for his life.
"You there fella can go on and kill yerself with the rest of them fools. I ain't leavin' these shores til me captain comes back," the Captain's most well respected man, Valmein said.
"I know that. I refuse to slay something that has already been slain." Truke simply commented.
"Ye can choke on yer words all ye want fella, your just afraid, ain't ya?" The man replied.
"You can say that... I suppose," Truke said and left.
There was no need argueing to a simple sailer unless it were safe to admit the truth, but it wasn't. There were spies everywhere. There was no location that were ever safe for the last hundred years to discuss any means of rebellion. Their plans have been heard of that night in the Black Cat and had the building had been burned down the next morning in hopes of killing them all.
And nobody knew of the power of this curse in Tarbend. Nobody knew there would be another wave of enemies that could possibly annihilate the planet. Nobody knew, except for Truke himself.
At that moment he sensed a man approach him from behind and sighed. He had been caught. The man was in a cloak similar to his, except it was a little darker. Truke turned around and saw the man motion him to meet him outside town. The warrior lead him towards a house with another cloaked man guarding the house.
"Make sure nobody comes near this house." Said the cloaked warrior to the guarding one. The guarding one nodded and the two of them walked inside the house.
"We've been looking for you. You have been gone for a while." started the man.
"I've been watching the cities in Glasiem as I was told. You must be Zacter I'm guessing?"
"Yes. Why aren't you preventing them from trying to lift the curse of Lord Kairce? You've disobeyed your orders."
"Because it cannot be stopped. He will emerge sooner or later. I've met a resistance, however that has potential of stopping him once he comes to power."
"Are you mad?" Zacter closed his eyes and sighed. "Humans cannot stop him! You know that, don't you?"
"But the amulets can. I'm going to get the Soul Amulet and I'm going to stop him. Kairce is still dead, and his axe was stolen from graverobbers, wasn't it?"
"Well... yes, but it's not long until he finds the Axe again. But I have to tell our Master that your disobeying his orders still."
"So be it. I know my task," Truke said cooly and left the house.
He proceeded back to Tarbend hoping to never see his 'old' comrades again.
"You there fella can go on and kill yerself with the rest of them fools. I ain't leavin' these shores til me captain comes back," the Captain's most well respected man, Valmein said.
"I know that. I refuse to slay something that has already been slain." Truke simply commented.
"Ye can choke on yer words all ye want fella, your just afraid, ain't ya?" The man replied.
"You can say that... I suppose," Truke said and left.
There was no need argueing to a simple sailer unless it were safe to admit the truth, but it wasn't. There were spies everywhere. There was no location that were ever safe for the last hundred years to discuss any means of rebellion. Their plans have been heard of that night in the Black Cat and had the building had been burned down the next morning in hopes of killing them all.
And nobody knew of the power of this curse in Tarbend. Nobody knew there would be another wave of enemies that could possibly annihilate the planet. Nobody knew, except for Truke himself.
At that moment he sensed a man approach him from behind and sighed. He had been caught. The man was in a cloak similar to his, except it was a little darker. Truke turned around and saw the man motion him to meet him outside town. The warrior lead him towards a house with another cloaked man guarding the house.
"Make sure nobody comes near this house." Said the cloaked warrior to the guarding one. The guarding one nodded and the two of them walked inside the house.
"We've been looking for you. You have been gone for a while." started the man.
"I've been watching the cities in Glasiem as I was told. You must be Zacter I'm guessing?"
"Yes. Why aren't you preventing them from trying to lift the curse of Lord Kairce? You've disobeyed your orders."
"Because it cannot be stopped. He will emerge sooner or later. I've met a resistance, however that has potential of stopping him once he comes to power."
"Are you mad?" Zacter closed his eyes and sighed. "Humans cannot stop him! You know that, don't you?"
"But the amulets can. I'm going to get the Soul Amulet and I'm going to stop him. Kairce is still dead, and his axe was stolen from graverobbers, wasn't it?"
"Well... yes, but it's not long until he finds the Axe again. But I have to tell our Master that your disobeying his orders still."
"So be it. I know my task," Truke said cooly and left the house.
He proceeded back to Tarbend hoping to never see his 'old' comrades again.
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Lord Umbra
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