Note: I don’t plan to start this RP until January, after the holidays, however, I did want to gain some steam in advertising first.
There is a place that exist, a place that only children seem know how to access. A place where you believe that all the things in your imagination are real. You create your own identity and your own powers, and then you forget this place. The older you get, the more your mind is occupied on different task. Different struggles. The folly of childhood leaves you behind and the friends you made, and the dreams had all, but seem futile and even perhaps a bit silly.
You grow apart. Maybe a distant object or thing reminds you of that time, but you like all the rest of the adults laugh it off as merely a child’s dreams.
You’re from a small town, where everybody knew everybody and you practically lived at your friends home. You use to play games in this threshold between imaginary and real, and then you grew up. You each became divided from different parts of the world. You got jobs, maybe some of you have married, but whatever that may be something odd has happened to you. You’ve received each a red envelope, a golden seal on the back, address to you by the Fairy Queen;
Dear Meadow Warrior,
I am summoning you to return to this land for a grave danger has awaken.
You chuck it. Laugh it off as a joke someone is pulling on you and you go about your day. Till you go to sleep that very night. Like someone’s pulled a spell on you, you feel yourself sinking and then you land harshly on the ground. You’re in a beautiful watercolor like world, but this no dream as you can smell the oak leaves, and the wind brushes across your cheek. It’s when you realize you’re carrying a fantastical weapon and a sense of deja vu washes over you. You are greeted by a toddler sized, butterfly winged, individual, who’s bits are uncovered.
“Sir,” she pauses, “You look different.”
“Yeah...I um...sure I’m what is called an adult and I am extremely confused right now,”
There is an uncomfortable silence and she simply states, “The Fairy Queen will want to see this.”
This RP centers around a group of old friends who use to play in the meadows of their small town together. They were the ones who built and saved Fairyland countless times. Then you grew up became, adults until you were called to return to Fairyland after all these years.
This RP will have two components a slice of life aspect, perhaps reconnecting to your friends. You’ve all moved into a big city, but because it’s so vast you hardly recognize the faces of your friends who also moved into Cosmic Fall City.
And a fantasy aspect in fairyland. Character sheets will be constructed of who you arein the real world and the hero you created as a kid, but all grown up.
@MenacingEffectCan we play the villain? I imagine the kid who always had to be the bad guy for some reason. Maybe because he was the fat kid growing up or the dork. As an adult, he was called to be the villain again, and probably uses it for revenge. He never got to date that girl he always liked because she always thought he was fat and disgusting, or too much of a loser. Thus she dated or even married the other kid. Therefore, **grudge**
@MenacingEffectCan we play the villain? I imagine the kid who always had to be the bad guy for some reason. Maybe because he was the fat kid growing up or the dork. As an adult, he was called to be the villain again, and probably uses it for revenge. He never got to date that girl he always liked because she always thought he was fat and disgusting, or too much of a loser. Thus she dated or even married the other kid. Therefore, **grudge**
Age: [how old are you? Remember the premise that you are adult age]
Gender: [male, female, X, trans]
D.O.B: [RP takes place in 2015]
Appearance: [realistic or something close to realistic please, I want to sort create the juxtaposition of childish whimsy with fairyland’s aesthetic and the perceived reality the adults see themselves as all grown up]
Personality: A personality is a history of person. We don’t magically grow up with our ideals, traits, and our quirks of habits. We learn them, we experience them, they come to us because of what, who, has influenced us, and we don’t all express them in the same manner. If you say Susan is Good Natured, well How Does that Look for Susan? Because Good Natured can mean different things based on that person’s experience.
My advise on how to write a personality section, for those who struggle is to list your traits;
Smooth Talker
And ask yourself, how is he a smooth talker?
He listen to what others say so he can use it back later to persuade them to do X.
Why is he a smooth talker?
He is a smoother talk because of his abusive father whom he had to learn to appease.
Biography: [can be as long or as short as you like, however, what I’ll be looking a is quality of writing]
Hero Card
For this premise, remember that you’re heroes were written in time that you were kids. This section plays to an offset of your Perspective of your Adulthood.
[insert hero theme hero]
Name of you Hero: Non serious or serious
Race: Race of your hero
Class: [warrior, mage, etc]
Alignment: [Use DnD as an example for this]
Appearance: [I’d still like these photos to be realistic or semi realistic, look up cosplayers or people who do live action roleplay. Again this visual style is meant to be a kind of juxtaposition of the watercolor world that you will be adventuring in]
Hero Personality: [remember that children create characters of who they aspire to be, or who they want to be. Think of your characters flaws and think of the way they may want to change that aspect of yourself. It’s why it’s very important that you flesh out their real life self as much as possible to play off these elements]
Weapon: [a sword, a magical staff, fans, be creative]
Abilities/Spells: [I’m allowing just about anything, children are often creative, but please keep the metagaming and god modding to non existent. I will be the judge if a power is too much or not. Genuinely if something is omnipotent, nigh invincible, all knowing, instant healing, it’s a no. For the sake and enjoyment of the RP]
Non Combat Skills: [acrobatics, history, etc. these are skills used outside of combat during your adventure]
Combat Skills: [how do you fight, what’s your hero like in combat, merciful, morally gray, etc. Describe how they fight]
Hero Lore: [what are some of the grand and amazing things your hero has done for the world of Fairyland as a Meadow Warrior, what are they known for]
Battle Theme: [the theme that plays as you vanquish your enemies]
Nope. Thank you sooo much for telling me now and communicating with me. I appreciate that I emphasize communication above all else, if a member doesn't have good communication skills they likely won't be good team players in the long run. You will be fine, while there is posting expectation for once a week at minimum - I make exceptions who come to talk to me like you do. So through the 11th - 19th you are exempt.
A sign is propped up on a bench just outside of a coffee house in downtown Cosmic City Fall. A scattering of different artworks, all on personal sized canvas, are laid out with tags that read $$ negotiable. A young man is relaxing, back propped against a brick flower bed the city paid for, smoking a cigarette. He’s wearing a pair of costume goggles, oh what’s that style - steampunk. Sandy brown hair, bundled in a high collar, wool trench coat. Worn cargos and combat boots fixed together by some tape, he looks up at you and lifts his goggles up sitting them atop his forehead. Hazel colored irises with a very dark distinct limbal ring around them that make them really stand out.
“So, what you think?” he ask with a crooked smile, that shows off his unnaturally pointy canines.
You’re looking at paintings in watercolor, depicting vivid images of birds, almost as if the birds are lifting off the canvas itself about ready to fly off.
“They are nice,” you give him an uncomfortable smile.
He frowns briefly. There’s a breathy sigh. He flicks the ash off the but of his dart onto the cement. He gives you a wave of his hand.
“Yeah yeah,” he says dismissively in his modulated, but hoarse cadence.
It isn’t that his work isn’t beautiful, it’s evident he has some talent. All of his work carries with it a sense of grace and elegance. He has a gift of using bright and vivid colors that seem to lift off the canvas itself. Complimentary colors that illuminate brighter than the neon signs that flicker open all around, there is something magic in his work. But looking at the dirt under his nail, his duct taped boots, his goggles, and someone’s purposely cut the fingers of his gloves so they are uneven in shape. You’re hesitant to help him out. What is he going to spend the money on? This seems to be something he understands with the dismissive hand gesture, sitting down to sulk.
“Sorry,” you mumbled.
The 5’6”, 167cm, just flips you the middle finger.
“Fuck off,” he tells you more firmly, his earlier energetic, charisma has faded now that you’re not interested.
“Sorry,” you say again before walking off.
Personality:
"Why do people spend millions on fakes [as in someone pretending they are X famous person] when I am sitting here selling an original of their time at fifteen. It's bonkers to think what people with money are willing to waste. And people who go to Bullseye ain't going to a pass from me neither. Why buy that copy of a painting in the public domain, that hundreds of others are going to buy, when you could have a one of a kind,"
A common misconception might be that Valeran what Valeran does, that defines himself, as some form of attention seeking behavior. An odd sense of humor that doesn’t land with a setup and a punchline, but from impulsive spontaneity may come across to others as someone trying too hard to be funny. Someone trying hard to be noticed. The truth of that reality can be so far from the perception of others have. In truth, internally Valeran never really feels comfortable with being out in public;
“A case of stomach worms constantly and antsy legs that keep moving when I want them to stop”
The goofy, silly image is really a way to fight and cope with nervousness he feels. It’s as if challenging himself to being different than the nervous wreck he feels inside that he might be able to make it fade by doing something that makes others laugh or entertained. Instead of falling prey to anxiety he may combat it with silly antics or goofy behavior or random impulsivenesses that laughter relieves the pressure, but he still doesn’t feel quite relieved of his anxiety.
A lot of this anxiety stems from a lot of self doubt and low self esteem about himself. In fact while Valeran is talented and gifted, his inner voice is cruel and beats him down. Something he’s familiar with considering it was the tactics used against him by his family members and Glenn. They’ve help create an inner voice inside that is often self critical, vicious, and cruel to Valeran. Constantly picking pieces away at himself, while outwardly he looks like a whole, unshattered individual.
Those who support Valeran understand that Valeran from an early age has always seen the world much differently than others have. Valeran’s mind has always wandered off to the what ifs, the maybes, the impossible to possible. Looking at a door that goes nowhere may turn Valeran’s head into believing that door is used for secret meetings in a dark alleyway opened by magic or that it is indeed a portal to another dimension. He may see an old woman everyday on a porch knitting and weave a story about how she’s waiting for her lover to come home. Valeran’s never been about taking anything at face value, but has always dissected inside to see what lies deeper. He’s always been concerned about the deeper meaning of the world. The deeper meaning of what people value. While Valeran doesn’t discuss these things with others, he portrays these questions, these excitements and easily enthused thoughts with his actions.
Those who know Valeran know him as an eager individual, some would even say he’s as eager as a child. Curious about the world around him, even at his age, still discovering how things work, still finding ways to implement a bit of magic and cheer in people’s lives. He’s always been the type of person to thrust his good nature onto others, if they are sad he finds ways to remind them why they are loved, if the person is looking for an answer he’ll find a way to lead them there. He might not have all the answers and he might lead them to what he feels is the right answer, but he never claims to know the infinite knowledge of the world. Or claims that he is indeed in the right. Valeran is loyal and has always put time and care into others likely because he’s always felt a burden to others. If he can relieve one person from feeling like a burden to others he feels he has done his job, even if he himself doesn’t feel that way about himself.
On the surface Valeran might seem like someone who has it all together, but the truth there are a lot of empty holes in Valeran. Empty holes he hasn’t been able to fill, no matter how much he tries putting something together and filling the holes, it ends up feeling emptier, and emptier, like no matter how much he puts in the holes they just absorb them. Therapy only ever sort of helped, he struggles on finding value in himself, which just ends up creating this deeper rift between himself and his feelings. Sometimes he wonders if he even is experiencing happiness when he laughs with others. Or if it’s just going through the motions.
The Other Me
Mind’s are fragile, feeble things, that often fall prey to a number of disorders that people would call sickness of the mind. Diagnosed with Bipolar Type 2, Valeran’s often had to find ways to cope and manage his symptoms. Often his art is how he has achieved this. While known as a drawer and a painter, he is a crafty storyteller as well.
Graphic Novel by Valeran Scott Mathis Vol: 5 Description: Upon the discovery another world, Unreality, a young man returns home only to be the host of another individual Hysteria. Now Julian must travel between Reality and Unreality to solve problems while coping with his ordinary life.
Panel 1: A black panel introduces the story. Text box of muffled words, none of what is being said makes sense.
Panel 2: Julian’s eyes slowly begin to open as he’s staring at the ceiling. As he tries to stand up he bumps into “glass”. He realizes he is in the Still Mind. The in between Unreality and Reality.
Jullian: Hysteria? Where are you?
Panel 3: Hysteria is looking at himself in the mirror in Julian’s room, he’s fixing Julian’s hair as Julian’s voice comes from the Still Mind.
Hysteria -smirk-: Right here.
Julian: You can’t just take over my body!?
Hysteria -fixing a shirt with a skull design on it- : It’s not fair I have to stay in the Still Mind, we could share. Sharing is caring.
Julian: It’s my body! And my school! And my friends!
Hysteria: And I’ll make you cooler and more popular I promise.
Panel 4: Julian sits on the black floor of the still mind. Melancholia wanders into the Still Mind through a white light.
Melancholia: I thought gloom is my thing.
Julian: Hysteria took over my body and now he’s at my school.
-Julian turns his attention towards a viewing window as they see through Hysteria’s eyes walking into a high school-
Melancholia: Oh. Well, that isn’t so bad?
Julian: It isn’t!?
Melancholia-shrugs-: Take it like a vacation.
Julian: Easy for you. You have no motivation to do anything, but Hysteria isn’t me. He’ll just do something that will embarrass me later.
Melancholia: Eh.
-snip-
While ordinarily Valeran is someone people get along and respect, there is an entirely different reputation that follows Valeran. Of a worker who missed too many days of work and was let go. Of a worker who was unworkable, irritable, and started fights with others. And despite the advocacy, many jobs struggled to justify keeping him as an employer. While Cosmic Falls City may be large, there was a growing stack of complaints of Valeran’s erratic and sometimes unmotivated behavior.
Some would justify then that mean that he deserved to lose his jobs. Some further would explain his dipping his toes into drug abuse as his fault. Though those were only solutions to self medicate when coping in other ways didn’t work. Valeran’s had an off and on relationship with drugs since his current decline. And while he may seem to be put together sometimes, sometimes he falls back into pieces like a jenga tower.
A glossy, skinny paper book sits on a shelf, a paper tent has been folded over that reads in sharpie: Local Artist. Issues upon issues are sprawled out by various names, Harry, Johnathan, Kaleb, Newb Stomper, but your eyes stop on woven text, and an unusual name that you’re not even sure if that’s a real name Valeran Mathis. Volume 1 - Stitchery and Swords. Sounds slightly boring. Stitchery? A boy is posed on the cover, no swords, nothing about it screams epic battles and epic fantasy. You shrug. Heck if you’re supporting a local artist, then you’re supporting a local artist and if it’s bad you can laugh about it later.
by Valeran Mathis
Preface: Dear reader before you read this tale, I'd like you to throw away your notion of good and evil. This story is not about good or evil, it is easy to assume looking at the Human King Alexanderite and Master Desmond as evil - meant to be stamped out. But they were a product of their time. Desmond only did what was expected of him and without Desmond the tale I am to tell about an average man in a fairy tail town then that individual wouldn't have learned the skills to help and rise up when the people needed it. Do not judge these individuals with our modern black and white views and see them through the eyes of living people set with expectations and placed burdens of society. Welcome to Stitchery and Swords.
Volume 1: The Boy Who Lost Everything to a Cloud
Panel 1: Craven a name to mean garlic and while many criticize garlic for being a noxious and potent herb, they've never seen the garlic flowers that bloomed. Inside this person, who some would see a coward, who some would see as a threat, a pester, was something beautiful others hadn't yet experienced yet.
Panel 2: One day a boy stumbled into a simple village, it was a simple enough village that boys without parents didn't just show up. Barefoot and cold, he shivers from the spring breeze, leaves swirl, and a fading sign reads Weeping Hallows.
Panel 3: Standing before the gate a guard notices the boy. Guard: Boy, where are your parents? Craven: Gone. Guard: You think you're funny? Craven: No. A black smoke swallowed them whole.
Panel 4: Cut to the clear sky. Split to a lone farm in the middle of a clearing surrounded by a forest. The sky is clear and blue, not a storm cloud in sight.
Panel 5: A woman is the center of focus at first. She seems to be working the fields, but there is something unusual about her, she has pointed ears. She looks up from the fields she's working at and eyes Craven
Mother: Craven, are you going into the woods? Craven: Yes. I'm collecting mushrooms for tonights stew. Mother -bites her bottom lip-: Don't wander too far today. Craven -studies her, she seems nervous about something-: I'll make sure the farm is in my sight at all times. Mother -nods-: Good. Your father should be back from town soon.
Panel 6: Cut to Craven picking mushrooms in a bright and colorful forest. When a sudden gust of strong wind pushes him back. Swooosh!! Craven looks up through the canopy of trees in the distance something like a storm cloud. The rolling sound of thunder in the distance; Crrrk. Crack! Bang!
Panel 7: Craven is running through the woods. Wind is getting stronger, acting like a barrier as he tries to push through the wind. As the farm house is getting closer, so is the cloud. But it is the only cloud in the sky. Rotating around its body is the source of energy. As electricity runs through it’s body. The sound of thunder louder now. Bang! Crrrrk! Crack! BWAM!
Panel 8: Craven's mother looks towards the woods and looks up towards the sky. She points towards the woods, just as the cloud begins to expand. Stretching out arms made of smoke.
Mother: Go!
Panel 9: A tree line fades back to the stone walls of Weeping Hallows. The guard standing in front of the gate begins to laugh.
Guard: Stop making up lies kids. You probably ran away from home.
Craven -lowering his head-: I am not making anything up. -he says quietly-
Guard: If you say so kid. Just know in Weeping Hallows you’ll be watched if you cause any trouble.
-Craven merely bows as the guard steps aside for him to walk into the small, stone city-
Panel 10: Fade to black, transition into walking out of a store, back towards the city center. Craven looks around. He’s bought a very very small bag of rations.
Voice: Boy.
-Craven turns his attention to a man older than him-
Panel 11: An older, middle age man with blonde hair fading to gray is staring down at Craven. His head is held up higher with some form of disdain for the boy, as if he’s looking at the boy through his glasses from the tip of his nose.
Craven -bows-: Sir, were you addressing me?
Man -looks around-: I don’t see anyone else walking out of our general store. Do you?
Craven-nods No-: No sir.
Man -clears his throat-: Eh hem. I heard a curious story from the guards, that you believe your parents were taken from an elemental.
Craven -scowls-: Story, it’s true.
Man: Yes children do seem to believe the wild stories they tell.
Craven -continues to frown-
Man -caresses his chin-: Yes, well considering you’re a vagrant child you’ll still need some kind of work to sustain yourself. Unless you are planning on dying out there. -man looks at the wall, panel splits between Man’s vision of the wall and the forest behind the wall-
Panel 12: Craven thinking to himself; Working? What am I supposed to be doing now that mom and dad aren’t around? He looks up at the older man, and then behind him towards the gate, out there towards the forest. Who is going to take him in? Would anyone of his mother’s people?
Craven: What kind of work?
Man: Medicinals boy. While I think that it is crazy to believe that an elemental attacked your parents out of the blue, I need a open minded thinker. None of the other boys have that aptitude.
Craven: I know nothing about medicinals.
Man -grumbles-: That’s why you start off as an apprentice. You learn under my guide and do as I say.
Craven -looks to the floor-: But I get paid.
Man: Yes. And a place to stay. Unless you’re a fool, if you are then please by all means leave the village and get torn apart by the things out there.
Craven -looks behind him and then back at the man-: O...okay.
Man -clears his throat-: Yes, well do you have a name?
Craven: Craven Blume
Man -raises a brow-: Kind of name is that? Yes well you may address me as Master. The name is Desmond Lancaster, The Arcane Healer of the North.
Craven -eyes wide-: The full title?
Desmond -grumbles-: Hmph. No. Stupid boy. Just Master Lancaster.
--To Be Continued - Volume 2: Garlic Boy Learns--
Volume 2: Garlic Boy Learns Description: Craven taken in by Desmond Lancaster, has begun his training under Desmond. His knew home is something to get use, while his knew corridors are simple servant corridors - simple something Craven is use to - the corridors are located within a castle. A whole new set of laws, politics, people, have to be learned on top of learning how to read the books Desmond has given him, learning about plants, and other ingredients before there is any brewing to be had.
Volume 3: Apprentice’s First Brew Description: A year has passed, Craven has proven himself a bright and a quick learner. Desmond is beginning to fear Craven might truly surpass him. Conflicted with keeping Craven’s education to a minimum and wanting to keep him motivated to work Desmond decides to allow Craven to create an ailment for the first time. Craven’s first adventure begins collecting ingredients, without the help of his Master’s watchful eye. Let out of the city for the first time in a while, Craven is accompanied by a Guard as his escort.
Volume 4: Secret Techniques Recap: Craven and Fernando have traveled through the woods to a city a few miles away from Weeping Hallows to gather ingredients from another herbalist. Returning home, they have gathered the rest of the ingredients in the forest before taking the road back to Weeping Hallows. Though there is an issue, Fernando has gotten himself turned around and the both of them are wandering a dark, forest only getting deeper and deeper into the brush.
Panel 1: Fernando looks up towards the canopy of trees, he frowns as he realizes he cannot get a clear look at the sky. What time of day is it? He thinks to himself. As Craven is etching a mark in one of the trees.
Fernando: What are you doing? Craven: Marking the trees so we don’t’...-he pauses and stops looking around- Fernando: What?
-Craven looks around- -bwop. Bwop.- -something bobbing up and down in what sounds like water- -Craven runs towards that direction-
Fernando: Hey!? Don’t run off without an explanation!
-Fernando follows after-
Panel 2: Both are standing at the edge of a bank, looking towards a river. A frog has jumped on a leaf and looks at them. Fernando looks around, the river stretches for miles.
Craven: I bet if we follow the river we can find our way to a road. Fernando: Or Wild People. Craven-shrugs-: Let’s go find these Wild People Fernando: I rather not. Craven -looks up at Fernando and smiles-: But you have a sword. I am completely unarmed, shouldn’t I be the one more concerned to meet these Wild People then you? Fernando -grabs the hilt of his sword and laughs nervously-: Oh of course. I am -he clears his throat- prepared for anything.
Panel 3: Is split into four sections of the forest. First is the winding river, the darkness of the trees makes the dense heart of the woods seem like it’s nighttime. Lights of the fireflies seem like stars illuminating the way. Second someone’s created a rickety bridge between a broken path. Craven and Fernando step on the bridge. Crrk. Crrk. The bridge threatens to give way.
Fernando: Who built a bridge all the way out here? Craven: Someone who wanted to cross the river. Fernando -looks back at Craven, the both of them cautious where they step-: Is that your attempt at being funny? Craven -shrugs-: It’s the only way to the other side. Fernando: Let’s hope the Wild People don’t find our bodies washed up on the bank of the river. Craven: To then, what? Eat us. I know what you mean by Wild People, in this case, around these woods you mean elves. Fernando -SNAP a piece of wood gives way, but Fernando manages to not fall through-: And what if I mean elves? Craven: They aren’t at all like the way humans portray them. Fernando: And what about the men who have never made it back from the deep woods? Craven: They trespassed. And often acted more wild than the people they call wild. Fernando: I am not getting into with an eleven year old, hurry across the bridge before it completely breaks.
Panel 4: Clearing the bridge, more and more light is being exposed by the trees as they begin to become clearer and clearer. The river narrower and in the distance a hut, the sun is setting, and the smell of something cooking.
Fernando -puts his hand in front of Craven-: We should be cautious. Craven: Because I was going to suggest just rushing towards the creepy hut. Fernando: You seemed like the type of kid who would. Craven -scowls- Fernando: What should we do? Craven: Cautiously rush towards the creepy hut.
Panel 5: Heading towards the hut, the trees become thinner, and skinnier. As the backdrop is golden, smoke is coming from a chimney. Clothes hang on a clothesline on the opposite side of the hut. Fernando has his hands on the hilt of his sword, as they come closer to the tree line, the forest the only protection from being caught to whatever danger lies ahead.
Fernando -points towards a road- : Look a road. Craven -nods-: Knew we’d find one eventually. Fernando: Who do you think lives here so far away? Craven -shrugs-: I thought you didn’t want to find that out? Fernando -looks nervous-: I heard about a couple of Hags that live this deep in the woods, that turn children into stews and kill those that raise them. Craven: So if we’re lucky, we’ll be eating other children tonight and you won’t die till tomorrow. Fernando -tugs at the collar of his gambeson, Gulp!- Voice -low chuckle-: Ahaha. I don’t eat children, but I wonder what an armed stranger and a child could possibly want with me.
Panel 6: A bronze, sun kissed skin man is standing behind them, Watching them, there is a cunning in his golden sunset eyes and his ears are pointed. His jawline is strong, yet he has long eyelashes and beautiful golden hair. A Sun Elf is watching them.
Fernando -takes out his sword quickly-: Stay back! Sun Elf: Typical human response. They don’t understand these woods, so they reply with nervous violence. -Sun Elf’s gaze drifts to Craven- And you? You don’t seem afraid. Craven: We share a bloodline. Sun Elf -eyes widen in realization-: Ah I see. You’re half then. Craven -nods and bows-: We were just looking for the road. We’ll leave you alone now. Sun Elf -looks towards the golden sky-: They call me Davha, it means Wise Sunset. The sun’s power draws to darkness. You should seek shelter. Fernando: And where would we find shelter? -Davha turns his head towards his hut- -Craven giggles- -Fernando puts back his sword- Fernando: You make a valid point, but -he steps forward in front of Davha- I’ll be watching you. Davha -glances at the sword-: Because you have to worry about me.
Panel 7: Walking into a small cottage, despite the setting sun, it is brightly lit by a fire going, some lanterns lit with flames, and candles placed on shelves. Curious bottles and ingredients lie on these shelves, as well as a young girl about five, with the same bronze and amber tones of Davha. She too has sun colored hair.
Girl gets up quickly -she gasp-: Father? Davha: Go to your room and return in the morning when the strangers have left. Please. -Davha quickly glances at Fernando- -Fernando turns his head away nervously- Fernando -clears his throat-: Yes, do as your father says now? -Davha scowls at Fernando- Davha: If you know what’s best for you, you may have a sword, but go anywhere near her and you’ll find your skin on the outside. -Fernando laughs nervously- Fernando: Maybe we should calm down about skinning people… Davha -glances at Fernando-: Ah yes I forgot it’s customary to greet people with a sword pointed at them.
Panel 8: Craven’s focused on the bottle on the shelf, while Fernando is sitting on a rug in the center of the room. Fernando cautiously looks at a clay bowl of soup he has been given, while Davha stands next to Craven offering a gravy looking stew.
Craven: These bottles, they aren’t ordinary potions. Davha: You have a good eye. Probably the elven in you. Craven: How do you make them? Davha: Not all potions are just made with fire. -Craven looks curiously at Davha- -Fernando clears his throat-: Eh hem. -Davha and Craven turn their attention to Fernando- Fernando: Look I don’t know anything about your fancy elven potions, but Desmond Lancaster’s potions are likely even better. -Fernando looks at Craven- Davha -merely smirks-: Ah yes the famed Arcane Healer of the North. I know about him. I know many Elven Witch Doctors who would say his potions are as translucent as water. -Craven giggles- Fernando: Pfft. They only say that because they fear his skills.
Panel 9: Craven stares into the murky brown liquid of the stew he has received. He looks between Davha and Fernando. I’ve never asked why the Elves and the Humans don’t get along. He thinks to himself.
Craven: Did the elves do something wrong to the humans? -he focuses his gaze on Fernando- -Davha scoffs- Fernando -shrugs-: Hell I know. Just know none of us really like each other. Davha -looks at Craven and slowly walks to a chair- Craven: Then did the humans do something to wrong the elves? Fernando -laughs-: Haha. Course not. The elves will tell you their propaganda, but none of that is true. Davha -focuses on Fernando-: Propaganda? The humans to build their cities, cut down the Hearts of the Forest. They toppled ours down, for their own. They also greet elves with swords to their throats. Fernando scoffs: Not going to let that one go are you? You snuck up on us. What was I supposed to do greet you with a hello? Craven: Did the humans cut down the Hearts of the Forest? Fernando: What no. The hell is a Hearts of the Forest anyway. It’s just some trees, the elves should get over it. Davha: There is a whole spiritual connection in this forest the humans ignored, those Hearts of the Forest were the oldest trees that connected every single living organism in this forest together. Fernando -shrugs-: Just some trees. No one really believes in that mystical bullshite.
Panel 10: An uncomfortable silence fills the room. Woooosh. The wind begins to pick. It whistles through the window panes. Pop crrpop. The fire in the fireplace goes. Craven stares into his stew as if it will tell him the infinite truths of the world, while Fernando eats in silence. Davha stares into the fire and the wind continues it’s assault on the cottage.
Panel 11: Bowls are empty. Wooooo. The wind whistles through the cracks of the window. No one has said anything. Fernando raises his arms up and begins to yawn.
Fernando: Best get some rest. Davha -looks at Fernando-: You’ll sleep down here. Fernando -looks around-: Here? Davha: Yes, I’ll get you some blankets and something to rest your head on. Fernando: And Craven? Davha -looks up towards a ladder to the second floor-: I have an extra bed. Fernando: You’re giving the kid the bed? -Davha narrows his gaze at Fernando- Craven -looks at Davha-: You don’t have to do that. I’ll sleep on the floor too. Davha -gives him a stern look-: No. You will take the extra bed. You are part of our people and I promised your mother I would take care of you. It seems I failed to do so if you’re in the company of humans. Craven: You knew my mother? Davha -nods-: We were close friends. It took me a while to know why your face was so familiar. Fernando grumbles: Just like an elf. Favoring his own. Davha -gives Fernando a stern glare-: I would never let you in the bedroom that my daughter lies. You’re not a parent, so you wouldn’t understand the concern they have. Fernando -shrugs-: It’s a girl. Davha: Just like it’s just trees. Fernando: You’re kind of overprotective and hold a lot of grudges. Davha: And I am also a lot older than a human. My lifespan is not as short. And my memory is vast. Craven: How about we just get some rest?
Panel 12: Upstairs on the second floor, three beds lie. One is occupied by the young girl from earlier, holding on tightly to a plush rabbit. The other two are empty, but made. There isn’t a crease in the sheets. Craven looks up to Davha.
Craven: Um thank you. Davha: I trust that you won’t take my daughter away. Iylas is all I have left. Craven -shuffles his feet on the wooden planks-: You lost the others? Davha: My lover. Yes. It was due to human superstition that took her away from me. Craven: Sorry. Davha: You did no wrong. I don’t blame you. Craven -looks at the floor beneath his feet-: But you don’t like Fernando. Davha: I don’t like that man, not because he is human and not because I blame all humans for what has happened to Chrona. I don’t like that man because like all humans he is ignorant to his past and his future. They deny the horrible things they have done and behave as if the elves feel persecuted for an entirely minor circumstance. Craven -shifts his weight onto the other side-: You were supposed to protect me? Davha: Yes, I made a promise to Myrtle. Obviously I failed in that promise. I hadn’t known Myrtle and Briar were attacked until a day later and you went in the opposite direction. I won’t near a human settlement. -Davha’s gaze wanders towards the window- Craven: You believe me? They were taken by an elemental. Davha -nods-: I believe you.
Panel 13: As Craven begins to manipulate the bedsheets, he looks one more time at Davha who has resigned to looking out the window.
Craven: Thank you, again. Goodnight. Davha -briefly smiles-: If you like. I can teach you the secret techniques of elven magic. Craven -eyes widen with excitement-: Really?! Davha -nods-: You have the potential. Not every elf is born with that potential. Craven: I’d love to learn elven magic. Davha: Pick a topic then. An area of focus and I’ll do my best to teach you.
--To Be Continued - Volume 5: Mushrooms and Explosions--
Volume 5: Mushrooms and Explosions Description: Returning to Weeping Hallows, unbeknownst to Craven Fernando has disclosed their visit with Davha to Desmond. This only further increases Desmond worry that Craven will be more successful than him. In order to combat this, Desmond begins to cut back on Craven’s advance trainings and slowly begins to hand him minor task and jobs. Meanwhile, Craven’s learn how to sneak out of Weeping Hallows to start his training with Davha on offensive alchemy.
Volume 6: The Ying and the Yang of a Brew Description: Craven’s training continues with Desmond and Davha. While Desmond reluctantly trains him in elixirs of healing properties. Davha continues to train Craven in understanding how to infuse magical components into a potion for wildly various effects. Craven begins to understand that ingredients are not just herbs and plants, but can be a variant of ingredients from crystals, to energy, that give the potion life. Desmond further worries about Craven, as his medinicals are becoming quite potent and powerful.
Volume 7: Forbidden Alchemy Description: Craven’s training with Davha is going well, perhaps too well. Desmond continued paranoia about Craven’s eventual success is the launching point for a plan. A plan to bar Craven from learning any more elven magic. Unknown to Craven, Desmond exposes to King Alexandrite what happened in the woods months ago when Fernando and Craven got lost, exposing the secret of the elf that lives there. King Alexandrite thanks Desmond and tells him to give him time to deliberate on what has been said.
Volume 8: Elf or Human Description: King Alexandrite being known as a kind man calls for an audience with Craven. Desmond watches from the shadows away from Craven’s noticeable gaze. King Alexandrite informs Craven that he is aware that he has been practicing elven magic outside the castle walls at night. He also informs Craven that sort of magic is against the laws of Weeping Hallows. Ultimately he gives Craven a choice, to abandoned Weeping Hallows, give up his home, his job here, to live like an Elf, but to never return to a human settlement. Or to give up learning Elven magic, keep his job, home, and shelter in Weeping Hallows. Craven’s fear that Davha and Iylas may get hurt if he refuses to stay here, means Craven chooses to stay with the humans.
Volume 9: Life of an Apprentice Description: Craven’s life becomes stagnant, as he falls in line with his position as an apprentice of Desmond. Who continues to give him minor jobs and doesn’t allow him to touch any of the advance studies. He refuses to teach him any more. Says he knows enough. Craven doesn’t argue or rebel with this line of thinking, instead he accepts it respectfully. While he might not sneak out at night, Craven does sneak the advance textbooks at night and makes sure to put them back exactly where he has found them.
I retract my interest. I had to think about it, but there are certain people in this game who don't make for a pleasant RP community. Good luck. I hope your RP prevails.
Like Arisen was trying to get you to understand that sometimes behaviors we aren’t aware of in ourselves can play off how others perceive you - with your character, the same could be said for yourself. You came in quite strong with your idea and I am not against working with someone, but you didn’t allow the conversation to happen organically and it did feel like you were forcing other people’s characters to be a certain way to make your character work instead of allowing an organic build. Arisen is passionate about writing and because of your blatant dismissal to some of the things he was sharing, I can understand why he would react in that way. He does have some valid points. You can sympathize with someone, but if you have never had the experience you cannot empathize. To sympathize is to understand. To empathize is to know. And while we all have been excluded in our lives, it’s about the same as saying we all have been sad so everyone has had depression. When they aren’t exactly the same. The kind of exclusion you want to portray has a lot more involved in it much in the way sadness isn’t the same as depression. They aren’t trying to exclude you, but I am telling you why you were perceived in a certain way because I don’t think you are aware of your own behavior. You may come back if you so desire. I did this publicly because I as a GM have decided a long time ago that it is best we be transparent about situations.
@MenacingEffect This looks like such fun! I’m away from my desk at the moment and want to look more closely when I get home/can read on a proper screen, but are you still accepting potential character CSes?
