Emech Szar Mosol, the Weaver (Taken)
"The greatest mysteries of the world, the most repugnant stains of history, the most tantalizing answers to every question... all found within the frailest threads of the tapestry-- so ignited and defiled by the hands of tyrants."
"Your will are my hands." Emech smiled as he approached you, his black robes glistening under the plethora of lights that emanated from the moon. The hut behind the young lad was dilapidated; its hinges, walls and gutters were slowly rotting every second. Although, the house was poor in design, the environment around it was magnificent. The blades of grass waltzed to the wind's relaxing orchestra, the titters and patters of the trees that ringed the locale in a soothing staccato. Emech knelt in front of you, his lavender irises seemingly seeing more than just the scars and gashes you sustained as a mercenary-- no, he saw something deeper: potential. "The tapestry of fate has been defiled, as you already know. The Paragon had tainted it with weavers who they paid heftily to tamper the whole tapestry, then, they killed all the weavers who helped them... as well as those who didn't. That way, the Paragon wouldn't have to worry about the tapestry being messed with again. Thus, our world is desolated and scarred." Emech shook his head, his voice striking just above a whisper. "But don't lose hope, friend." the lad smiled to the wind's whistle, his scarlet locks entranced in a lazy dance. "For there is one weaver still remaining: me."
Emech revealed his identity as the weaver raised his arm towards your face. You couldn't help but notice that where there should be writhing fingers; where there should be a hand-- there was none. Emech, the weaver, raised his arms to your face, softly caressing your cheeks with the stump that had replaced his once talented hand. "I just need to get back my hands." Emech pleaded, the twinkle of hope tiptoeing between the thin leyline of hope and destruction. For the last weaver to trust in this complete stranger was not only insane and illogical, it was also a sign of pure desperation. The fate of Alamar was in the 'hands' of this stranger who Emech had revealed himself to.
"Friend... will you help me?" Emech croaked, the ghost of every pained torment echoing and lacing every letter of his cries.
Qure Altanar, the Bard (Taken)
"A tongue without restraint can wound deeper, crueller, and deadlier than any blade in existence. For the incisions of words sever more than just veins and bones; it severs the soul."
He stared at you with a gaze much more piercing than the sharpest of spears and arrows. Those cerulean orbs, hidden behind locks of golden hair, observed every muscle, every nerve that twitched beneath your skin; those same eyes that had seen every despicable and revolting pain ever dealt upon in this forsaken world. You knew what he was: the battered lyre being strummed between his nimble fingers signified his profession as a wandering musician-- a bard. Bards were known for the sweetest of voices, the most alluring of tones that would put the muses of heaven and earth to shame. Yet, the bard in front of you uttered not a wisp of a whisper; his throat procured not a needle of a moan. The voices of rocks, the waffles of grass, and the litanies of the dead could sing better, could speak better than the lonely wanderer who took your hand in his.
Suddenly, the world around you shattered into a legion of innumerable fragments that waltzed across the cosmos and quasars that illuminated the starry heavens above. The riven fragments spoke tales of how a perilous and dark miasma had began to claim their nation; an unstoppable evil was encroaching upon the land of Estrucia. The land withered and shrivelled beneath the blight of the miasma, causing all life to be sundered without exception. At this point, a new set of shards told a new story-- of how the bard had tried to convince the people of this miasma, his voice growing hoarse as the days went by. The wanderer had a made a pledge never to be silent until the people would believe him. His unending and haunting songs reverberated through his throat, carrying with it the solemn message of the impending doom. Although the vow was heroic, it was for naught. None believed him and, to top it off, he had lost his voice. The fragments disintegrated before quickly reforming, showing another tale-- a crossroad. One road showed the choice of finding the origins of the miasma and putting a stop to it. The other road showed a ship; the ship that would carry them off to a distant land. Simply put, it was a choice between ending the problem or escaping from it.
Suddenly, a rich voice pierced through the veil of silence, the bard's words echoing clearly without pause. "My name is Qure and I am here to offer you a choice: would you join me to expel the miasma or would you rather I offer you a ticket out of this land that is marked for death? The gods have abandoned us; we are on our own. Whatever you choose... your will is my voice."
Tevel Ryx Sylphas, the Oracle
"I do not need your help, but I suppose peasants need a role model to look up to. Thus, behold, commoner, for I, Tevel Ryx Sylphas, will grace your request and allow you to join my army composed of... you and... me."
You are a mercenary, whether you're a veteran or a fledgling to the trade, who is trying to find a contract. After all, without a contract, there is no gold that would ever fall into your hands. Thus, as you roamed the busy streets of Akelach, the mercenary capital of Vtolli, you tried in vain to find someone to lend your services to. But, for some reason, none out of the legions of lords and ladies ever accepted your offer. As the sun finished its journey across the sapphire sky, you slumped down unto one of the stone benches, tired and fatigued from a fruitless search. Perhaps, you just weren't cut out for a life of a mercenary? Thoughts of surrender and throwing in the towel ran rampant across your mind as, suddenly, a gloved hand tapped your shoulder.
As you snapped your head backward, there was a young lad, dressed in a traditional prince uniform; his crimson locks were combed backwards, allowing a clear view of his light and clean complexion. His olive-green eyes glanced and danced over you as he... quickly retracted his hand, tore off the glove, and threw it to a nearby lighted torch. "By the gods, I must have been mad to have ever touched you!" he said in total revulsion. However, he quickly regained his composure as he straightened his coat, and did a quick bow before offering a faint smile. "Greetings, commoner, I am Tevel Ryx Sylphas, Distinguished scholar of Vtolli, Slayer of Shadows, and a lot more titles that you would never even remember with your level of intellect. I have heard that you are lending your services to a contractor, and as I can see, you haven't have much luck, have you? That is to be expected of a mercenary of your caliber. But, fear not, even if I do not need your skills, I suppose peasants need a role model to look up to. Thus, behold, commoner, for I, Tevel Ryx Sylphas, will grace your request and allow you to join my grand army."
You looked at this incredulous man who was clearly not in the best state of mind. "My army, the Warriors of Tilda, will rise like no other army has and will. Be grateful, for you will be a part of my army. We might be few in number now, but we will flow like water in the near future. I can already see it."
You tilted your head in skepticism. Your tongue let loose a question: how many were they in the army? To that, the lad beat his chest and smiled proudly.
"A very good question But, no matter, be glad for you will be the very first soldier in my ranks! Yes, we might be only two as of the moment, but know that all armies started with one.. and then two... and then..." Thus, as the night waned, Tevel blabbered on and on and on.
The question remains, though... Will you gamble your services to this lunatic or will you take the safer path, and serve someone who was clearly sane?
Hi! Thanks for clicking and reading up to this point! If you find the plot interesting, shoot me a PM and we'll talk about the details. I'll only be accepting ONE person per plot, though.
As a college student and part-time teacher, I do become busy from time to time. I'll let you know about any posting problems, don't worry. While I am not the best in grammar, I do want to understand your posts, so please, decent grammar from time to time! As for my posting, I can typically post around 3-5 (even more) paragraphs depending on my mood. I'd also want a partner who can move the plot with me! After all, it takes two to tango.
Romance is welcome but it doesn't have to be the main revolving plot or theme! Let's work around romance from time to time. As for limits, I typically have little, so feel free to ask me :D
So, without further delay, my PM box is open!
