Grand Journey: Tales of Adventure

[mast3rlinkx]

Introduction

The land of Verbond hasn't seen war for many years, since the last war people have had enough bloodshed over ignorant and racist ideals, the vast races have either blended together to better make peace or completely kept to their own kind. Some don't wish to see the world so wounded by the past and strive for a unified nation of mixed races, but others want to take racial isolation further by means of mass genocide, while in the shadows mysterious groups want to change the world in their own ways and images. A world at sleep eventually have to awaken, by means of war or from change, but in the coming days both seem to draw ever so near...

[Sora1297]

((Not my best work, but its something :3))

"Boy, that there is Elvish Long Qui, best stuff them folk got at their disposal... Either you drink since you ordered it, or.."

"Barkeep, I didn't order anything of the sort!! I said "Give me something thats strong" as in ALCOHOLIC CONTENT, not smell... Wait, is it bubbling?"

Mercanor sat at the bar of the "Muddy Pig Inn and Tavern", staring down at the strange purple liquid that had been placed in front of him. The liquid was almost solidified, it acted just like half-hardened mud would and it reeked of troll sweat. Even the other patrons of the bar looked at the drink nervously, every one of them on edge about him taking a sip of the liquid. Mercanor shook his head, which almost caused the leather strap around his head to come loose and reveal his pointed ears which would've been strange on a boy who looked human in every way aside from his slightly pale skin tone. He swallowed nervously and took the mug in his hands, holding it slowly to his lips. He closed his eyes and winced slightly, expecting the worst as he poured the liquid down his throat. It was thick and slimy, but it tasted sweet and crisp, almost like a mid-summers day. If he could describe it, it would've tasted like the combinations of a fine grape wine mixed with a sweetest of honeys.

He placed the mug down and shook his head, grinning happily as he did so. "Bartender, I must say, I had my doubts about that... But that may very well be the best damn drink I've ever had." he said, sliding the bearded man behind the counter a small pile of coins before he sat up and walked away. Suddenly, from somewhere in the room, a voice called "By the Gods, Merc, this place smells like pig-shit. Lets get out while we still have the ability to breath.. Oh, right, I can't anymore.."

Mercanor turned bright red and chuckled, looking around like the other patrons before he ran out of the tavern and into an alley, before he unsheathed his sword as held it in front of him as he saw the small steel face return on the edge of the blade. "Xanderian, are you TRYING to get us captured or killed? Do you know how many of those men almost saw my ears and how many almost found out the voice came from YOU?! An enchanted blade is rare around these parts and if anyone ever figured out what you really WERE, then not only would you be sent off to some king or something as his prize, but you'd never get to return to your body and you would be tasked with making MORE of yourself." Mercanor angrily whispered before he sheathed the sword. "I'm sorry Merc, okay? Geez... Look, your talking to a bloody sword so maybe we should think of laying low... Wait, I know. Lets just get out of here. Maybe its about time we left Caddale... Who knows, maybe somebody 'round here's got a reason for us to leave." Xanderian replied from his sheath. Mercanor shrugged, not wanting to argue with the sharp-edged weapon (which would've just been weird) and walked into the streets, searching for possible signs for fellow adventurers...

[Nivrexis]

since escaping the horrors that plagued his home dimension, Nivy had lived in the forest with his faithful companion Zoma not wanting much to do with the locals of this alien place he had now found himself in. It wasn't until recently that he was starting to realize that his colour was fading with out the constant exposure to chaotic magic he was used to. The Gnomes powers over time, space and perception were already weak beyond anything he could imagine due to this dimensions static nature but now he seemed to feeling more graver affects. Zoma was feeling the same lack of energy and the two would need to find some kind of excitement or chaotic happenings to feel whole again.

While Nivy had avoided the nearby town out of fear, he would need to go there now if he was to survive. As the Gnome walked through the streets of the dreary town, all eyes were on him and Zoma. If it weren't for his brightly coloured skin his pointy ears and is mildly alien facial features he could almost pass for a small human child. Zoma who was sniffing the ground like a dog was a bizarre creature no matter how you looked at it. People seemed to think they were ghosts or monsters and when they weren't gawking at them with stunned looks they were hiding in their houses.

Nivy spotted a man who had just walked out of one of the buildings, he seemed like a fairly typical human that was until the gnome could swear he saw the man talk to a sword. This oddity peeked Nivys interest and as the man walked away Nivy followed. The man took no notice of Nivy as scurried up to him and poked him in the leg.
"excuse me sir" Nivy said to catch the mans attention "were you just talking to your sword?" Nivy had no sense of tact and just blurted out his question.
Zoma was close behind wagging her fluffy tail happily and making a strange noise resembling a bark.

[Assallya]

The lone vardo styled wagon trundled along down the ancient road. Centuries ago, perhaps millennia ago someone had dug down several feet and laid down layer after layer of gravel, stone and who knew what else. Even now, after so many years, it was mostly intact, with only the occasional cobblestone missing.

The vardo, an all wooden covered wagon that served as a home, was driven by a lone woman. It was garishly coloured, atop it a score or more packages, baskets and sacks. Huddled beneath a parasol attached to the wagon was the driver, a seemingly young woman who was dressed in little more than a corset and coarse fish netting. It was her travelling attire for her soft translucent silks were far too valuable to waste on the dust of the open road. Sunlight became trapped, losing itself within the woman's long golden tresses, blinding those that looked upon her shimmering highlights. Her face was heart shaped and pale like rose dusted porcelain, her eyes were the azure of the cerulean sky while her eyelids were dusted with a soft purple like the dusk that followed concealing two trysting lovers.

Toes of her bare feet clutching the lip of wooden footrest she leaned back against the mismatched cushions she had spread over the wooden driver's bench and enjoyed both the view, the warm sunlight and the soft breeze. Why elves seemingly enjoyed only the forests she did not know. This open land had its own beauty, separate, distinct, but equally winsome and worthy of admiration.