Gentlemanvaultboy

Everdark: the Dungeon Monster RP (Closed)

What was that?

Yvain poked her head out of the barren tent. Sound carried far in the Evardark, and the echo she caught bouncing out of one of the nearby tunnels was as fain as it was unmistakable. The chaotic clangs of blade on blade combat. Between who was the question. She darted forward, scooping her torch out of the spent campfire and sprinted down the tunnel towards the source.

Who? Who? She had to keep herself from calling out. The fact that both were humanoid narrowed down the list of who it could be, but those possibilities were still enough to scare her into silence. It could be a survivor from her unit, of course, but it could also be one of the adventurers. One that was still hanging around, or had gotten lost, or had just had so much fun then were still looking for a challenge. The image of the giant, musclebound beast of a half-orc that had brought the pommel of his great sword down directly on her helmet and ruined it came to mind.

Finding one of the full orc mercenaries the dungeons boss had hired on might be even worse. At least she could be sure that the the adventurers probably wouldn't eat her after she was done. It could be a mad skeleton who was off its magic chain and angry at the living. It could be a animated armor stuck in battle mode. It could be two goblin fighting over a patch of mushroom. The number of thing it could be besides a survivor was astoundingly large and almost everything else would probably want her dead.

It turned out to be more other dark elves. The sounds of battle stopped as she approached, replaced with voices. She slowed down, creeping forward so as not to let them know she was approaching. They were speaking her language but she didn't recognize either of the voices. There was a heart shaking sound of cutting, followed by something splattering to the floor. The winner had the voice and the laugh of a madman, enough so to freeze Yvain in place. She drew her sword, slowly, quietly, waiting for the sound of his footsteps to come her way. Instead they pattered away in the opposite direction, down one of the many tunnels, and Yvain let out the breath she had been holding in.

The cavern she stepped into was illuminated only by the light of a single lantern, but even still she could make out a form slumped against the far wall. He was breathing raggedly, using his final breaths to speak kindly to weapon discarded on the floor. Breathing. Breathing! Still alive!

She rushed across the room, kneeling next to the fallen man. She felt something soaking into her knees. A lot of something. Enough something to know that first aide wasn't an option for anything short of magic, and unfortunately enough their resident Cleric had been the first one to go when the adventurers swept through. She didn't panic. Death by other Dark Elf was unfortunately a common occurrence where she was from. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "Yvain, Cry Wolves. You guys were probably here because of me. What happened?"

@Dark Light

Everdark: the Dungeon Monster RP (Closed)

@Gentlemanvaultboy I am enjoying reading your post, you seem to be quite familiar with the drow as a race. Very cool!

@Dark Cloud

I know most of the broad strokes. Thanks.

Everdark: the Dungeon Monster RP (Closed)

Yvain felt her heart sink as the the flame of her torch illuminated the face of another dark elf tangled up in the webbing. She sighed, pulling out a small lost and rubbing out the name Vinten with her thumb.. He had been a funny one, useless and foppish but seemingly happy to be away from the vipers nest of the capital. He had been some minor nobility like her, some fifth son of a third aunt, and would entertain the others at mealtime by playing a flute he had carved from a broken piece of bedframe. She sighed. "How many of you lot ran this way?" She asked nobody.

The vast majority of the names on her list were now little more than blackened blobs and she could probably mark her passage through the corridors with thumbprints. Many of them had been the names of men, and not for the first time she insisted to herself that those barely even counted as people. Like all the times before the truism didn't bring her any comfort. She hadn't exactly been close with any of them (that was hard to achieve when you seemed to strike terror into their hearts if you stood up too quickly) but she had consistently found them to be better company than any of her sisters. The silence in the barracks now was deafening enough to send her out into the dungeon itself, a faint hope burning in her breast that some intrepid coward among them had found a hideaway within the twisting corridors of the Everdark.

Her list of names attested to the futility of her search. At this point she was convinced that the few still listed were only so because they had been totally devoured by some other denizen of the dungeon. Even now she could hear the voices of likely culprits echoing through the caverns as she marched on. She didn't stop to take Vinten, didn't dare disturb the web. It was as honorable a resting place as any down here. You live by the spider, you die by the spider.

As she continued, however, she was startled to find the faces of Delvs she didn't recognize. She followed the trail of bodies to a crude campsite that had clearly been set by her own people. "No way." She said aloud, just to hear a voice, as she started picking through the remnants of the camp. "You actually sent somebody?" She had been sending messages by carrier bat every time she had managed to catch one of the little buggers fluttering back to the shattered remains of a barracks bat coop. She had gotten one reply so far, a vague and rather dismissive message promising to reinforce her position, but if this was her reinforcements than it looked like she was out of luck unless she found some evidence of Delvs that hadn't wound up on the bottom of the dungeons food chain already.

Everdark: the Dungeon Monster RP (Closed)

Is this pre or post everybody getting wiped out?

Everdark: the Dungeon Monster RP (Closed)

I didn't really do anything to celebrate. Got a little stuffed yeti dude from the dollar store, that's about it.

Everdark: the Dungeon Monster RP (Closed)

Anyone who's not trying to eat Yvain is already + in her books.

For enemies: Vinashy seems like a major threat and Yvaine since I established Drow uses Scri'erk's species as war beast or maybe transportation/labor?

@Birdboy

"This is exactly how mother always said I was going to die."

Everdark: the Dungeon Monster RP (Closed)

Yvaine

Name: Yvaine Arioch
Alias/Nicknames: Her?
Race: Dark Elf (Darkvison)
Gender: ♀
Background: The twelfth daughter of a Dark Elf noblewoman and considered a thoroughly useless child by her mother and siblings. However, several assassination attempts by her siblings have proven that she has an uncanny ability to survive life threatening situations and, seeking to turn this into prestige for her family, pressured the girl into signing up for Cry Wolf dungeon defense corp. The Cry Wolves are part of a deal struck with the dungeon boss, where Dark Elven soldiers would be provided to guard the dungeon in a show of cooperation between the Everdark and the Dark Elf settlement. Unofficially, it was where you sent the kids you didn't need to earn the house some glory and then hopefully die to a band of adventurers.

Yvain, unfortunately, beat the odds again when she was knocked unconscious during this latest and most successful of invasions. When she awoke she found herself to be the only Cry Wolf left alive. She is obliged, then, to remain at her post in the Evardark and maintain a Dark Elven presence in the dungeon until some fresh young recruits could be sent to reinforce her, which her mother has assured her are coming "soon" and that they are "definitely working on it."

Personality: "By the book," is the way that Yvain leads her life, though that's mostly a crutch. So long as she follows the rules to the letter people might not cotton on to her not having any real idea what she's doing. She fluctuates between trying to put on a good face and maintaining the quiet dignity expected of an elf and jumping at shadows due to the paranoia beaten into her by her siblings attempts on her life.

Appearance:

Skills:

• Combat Skill: Weapon Focus: Scimitar
• Non-Combat Skill: Trap Making - In addition to their guard duties the Cry Wolves where also expected to create and maintain the traps in their area of the dungeon.

Possessions: Standard Issue Scimitar, Standard Issue Bullwhip, Standard Issue Armor, Standard Issue Bola (3)

Everdark: the Dungeon Monster RP (Closed)

Can I throw my hat into this dungeon?

Yvaine

Name: Yvaine Arioch
Alias/Nicknames: Her?
Race: Dark Elf (Darkvison)
Gender: ♀
Background: The twelfth daughter of a Dark Elf noblewoman and considered a thoroughly useless child by her mother and siblings. However, several assassination attempts by her siblings have proven that she has an uncanny ability to survive life threatening situations and, seeking to turn this into prestige for her family, pressured the girl into signing up for Cry Wolf dungeon defense corp. The Cry Wolves are part of a deal struck with the dungeon boss, where Dark Elven soldiers would be provided to guard the dungeon in a show of cooperation between the Everdark and the Dark Elf settlement. Unofficially, it was where you sent the kids you didn't need to earn the house some glory and then hopefully die to a band of adventurers.

Yvain, unfortunately, beat the odds again when she was knocked unconscious during this latest and most successful of invasions. When she awoke she found herself to be the only Cry Wolf left alive. She is obliged, then, to remain at her post in the Evardark and maintain a Dark Elven presence in the dungeon until some fresh young recruits could be sent to reinforce her, which her mother has assured her are coming "soon" and that they are "definitely working on it."

Personality: "By the book," is the way that Yvain leads her life, though that's mostly a crutch. So long as she follows the rules to the letter people might not cotton on to her not having any real idea what she's doing. She fluctuates between trying to put on a good face and maintaining the quiet dignity expected of an elf and jumping at shadows due to the paranoia beaten into her by her siblings attempts on her life.

Appearance:

Skills:

• Combat Skill: Weapon Focus: Scimitar
• Non-Combat Skill: Trap Making - In addition to their guard duties the Cry Wolves where also expected to create and maintain the traps in their area of the dungeon.

Possessions: Standard Issue Scimitar, Standard Issue Bullwhip, Standard Issue Armor, Standard Issue Bola (3)

World of Light

Linkle

Merge Rate: 33%

Word Count: 437

Level 10 - (17/100) + 1

Location: Frozen Highlands ~ Snowdin - Treat's Doll House

@Majoras End@Lugubrious

---

Linkle was beaming as Treat almost melted with happiness. This was the way heroes ought to make people feels.

Albedo reentered the house to find Linkle encouraging her new friend to open up the snacks and try them, intently curious about what they tasted like. To Linkle's magical thinking the symbolism of these presents, which came from the heart of Snowdin itself, was abundantly clear: Treat wasn't meant to be hungry and cold and living like she was camping out.

She had been too engaged between her encouragements and asking about the wolf girls life she hadn't even noticed Albedo slipping out until he pushed between them and deposited her load of wood into the fire. The heat flooded into the room, causing her to lean over the fire perhaps a little closer than a living person would be comfortable. "Thank's Albeado." She said. "Why don't you come down a little closer?" She patted the spot of floor beside her, but the Alchemist seemed content to remain to the couch and observe as the three of them talked. At least until he had a question that burned too hard for him to ignor.

Albedo cut to the heart of the matter, which was that Treat's living situation sucked. He house was cold, dark, and obviously haunted. Disembodied groans and bumps in the night were a both signs that you had a Poe on the property, and the fact that Treat hadn't found anything when she had gone to check was just further proof of a ghostly infestation. The one at the general store in her village had eventually started attacking people too, and she was glad they had taken this walk up here before it had gotten to that stage.

"No wonder this place seems so gloomy." Linkle said, hopping up. "Haunted places are always unnaturally gloomy. I'll bet it settled here because none of the lights are on, they hate the light." She looked around the dark room, walking around while running her hand along the walls to try and find some of those switches like they had in her motel room. "I think this place is actually pretty neat. It has that waterfall, and the beautiful view. I'll bet people would come visit all the time for picnics and stuff if the place was lit up and we put away some of these dolls. First, though, we should get rid of that Poe." She punched her own palm eagerly. "Don't worry Treat, I've dealt with plenty of Poe's before now. Let me at 'em and once I'm done you'll feel the change in this place."

World of Light

Link

Word Count: 1069

Level 7 - (39/70) + 2

Location: Carcass Island

@DracoLunaris@Archmage MC@Lugubrious

---

---

The only way forward was through the snail pit. The only thing that gladdened Link's heart about that was the Koopa Troop's scouting party returning unmolested and reporting that, besides the apparent unpleasantries, there were no ambush parties waiting in the wings. So, with the exception of the sting of terror that shot through his mind at Sakura's "prank," he was able to follow after Peach with no qualms.

It was a testament to Mimic's craftmanship that when he jumped over the balcony and pulled out his sailcloth there was no noticeable change in it's performance despite the foot of height and who knows how many pounds of muscle he had gained from his fusion with Tidehunter. The transformation had exceeded his every expectation, the only downside he could see being that his tunic had vanished completely. He hoped there was a way to get that back. It was cracking good armor, despite its appearance, but if he just wanted armor he had a replacement he was sure would fit him now. No, the real loss was sentimental. That uniform was one of the things that connected him back to the other Champion's, the color being something shared between all of them. No amount of steely muscles or catlike sinews could fill the hole that it left.

He glided along after Peach for a portion of the room, joined by the Troop, but on glancing down and seeing the snail women dragging themselves toward the groundwalkers below and dropped halfway across, his impact cracking one of the rotted wooden platforms flat in half and scattering a few corpse while maggots, and joined them on their trudge. The slug women didn't prove dangerous enough to even contend with, and the new variety of fish man that tended to this place for some unspeakable reason didn't see fit to trouble them as they passed. One waved it's tadpole filed staff menacingly at him as he stopped to take a picture, but that was the extent of their open hostility.

So it was a nursery, then.

That might have made him feel bad when the wooden platforms came to an end and they were striding across a carpet of maggots if they weren't also apparently using the maggots as kindling.

As they approached the wall of fog something began to emerge from the sea of sticky white stuff at their feet. At first he thought himself a fool, for of course the ambush could come from underneath. At first he mistook the enemy for four, slimy white wriggling creatures pushing heir way up to defend the nest. As it fully clawed its way out he felt his blood run cold. His mind flashed back to the day this had all begun, back to the cliff and the army that had been arrayed against them. The creature, eh knew, that had made him a game piece in a twisted challenge. What was it that Marth had said? They would each need to defeat at least ten? Well, the only thing that stopped Link from traying to get his first was the hail of ranged attacks sent at the thing by others who had the same idea.

He stopped short, sword in hand and Dark Iron Chestplate hastily equipped, and watched with wretched frustration as the barrage of attacks was stopped by some kind of barrier. AS the last of them petered out he kept it in hand, but lowered. No point breaking his weapons against something like that. Besides, the hand behaved as Link had expected. Instead of engaging with the group it set up a game. A game of death, but a game all the same. As he looked down at timer carved onto his hand he felt a wave of nausea rush over him. Lose and everyone dies. Win and everyone lives. Simple rules. Fair rules. Rules he had no choice but hope and pray the hand decided to honor.

Some people were taking this turn of events harder than others. As the hand counted down Ms. Fortune turned to them looking for some explanation. All Link could do was growl out, "It's from the cliff!" Then Peach and the beginning of the game cut him off. She took charge immediately, hurrying them down the path before picking one herself. Bowser dutifully followed after her, Junior and Blazermate running after him. Link took one last look around the group, acutely aware that this could be the last time he ever saw any of their faces. Then he steeled himself and charged after his fellow Smash Brothers.

As they arrived in the cavern Link joined Peach in searching for whatever adversary the hand had prepared for them and hoping that it was something horrible. He didn't want to battle someone in the same position he had been put in, forced against their will into being a pawn of the hand, but the trembling of his brain was telling him that if it was between some stranger and them he would choose them. The Hand would get it's spirit.

Luckily their opponent was suitable monstrous, looking for all the world as though it could be the mother of the fish monsters that stalked this island. Bowser ordered his court mage to supersize him, but Kamek wasn't here. In this moment of inaction, Blazermate chose to put her beam on Link. He could feel himself being filled to the brim with energy, and then felt that energy explode. It was like lightning was shooting through his veins, every fiber of his new muscles crackling with power. At her command he charged forward as the creature began to fill the cavern with song. In his hands was the Ebony Battle Axe, even lighter in his hands than he had initially suspected. As he closed to within striking distance he spun once, the blade cleaving through the air in a wide arc before he used the momentum to bring the blade up, then down in an overhead chop.

It was hasty, but they didn't have the time to make a plan. He hoped the others were watching, because whatever tricks this monstrosity possessed would doubtlessly be used on him first. That was fine. He had a feeling he could take it. They could come up with a strategy after they saw how it dealt with him.