If for some reason @Whoami hasn't posted I by Sunday morning I will post.
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I will take both of your advice and try to flesh out more of the Shooting Stars and perhaps mages at least by Arn's point of view. needless to say I can edit anything that does not seemt o fit with the Lore or direction already created.
One question though. I had assumed that the Viemiese were more like the Kamera rouge or perhaps soviet Russia in their conquest mentality. Yet as I read it, it sounds more like a setting of the 100 year war between England and France. So are the Viemese not truly evil just as the Belisians are not completely saints? It might help in the future when describing NPC interactions etc.
One question though. I had assumed that the Viemiese were more like the Kamera rouge or perhaps soviet Russia in their conquest mentality. Yet as I read it, it sounds more like a setting of the 100 year war between England and France. So are the Viemese not truly evil just as the Belisians are not completely saints? It might help in the future when describing NPC interactions etc.
The mage felt his body as lighter than air and it was not because he was being carried through the skies by the Knight Captain. He had strained himself past most regular person’s capacity. It had been only through sheer force of will that he had managed to still be able to be cognizant when others might have very well died. His own heart was weakly beating, pushing what little blood was left inside his body to maintain life.
His body ached and every fiber of his being called for deliverance from this existence and succumb to the sweet rest that death provided. Yet no matter how much easier it would be to give in to that promise of bliss and as much as he hoped he would meet his mother in the energy womb of Gia, Arn was not ready to leave the world of the living. He felt there was much to do. He felt there was still much he could help with. As a tool, there was still much service he could provide.
He heard the Tyrhallan’s far away voice, as if he had fallen into a very deep cave. His vision was limited to shades and shapes. The mage drifted between consciousness. But there was more keeping him awake. So close to death, his connection to the spirits of Gia was more pronounced. They whispered warnings. There was even times when he could hear his own mothers voice.
The voices spoke of danger. They wanted him to be prepared. He felt a great disturbance in the threads of the Aether. Stronger still than the storm cover that had been utilized by the enemy to cover the three frigates. He tried to call out to the silver haired knight but no sound came from his mouth.
As he was passed along to Firenze Arn mustered all he could and was able to push himself far enough to finally see the bloody and bruised face of the Knight Captain. His eyes met Tryhallan’s but that was all. Suddenly, the darkness took him. His body had been taxed beyond belief and all the mage heard before he was enveloped was
“get him to a doctor, he's in need of one”
Arn found himself in a sea of black. He felt his body floating as effortlessly as he did when swimming in the few lakes and bodies of water still left on the broken world. He had sailed through the skies as all members of the Shooting Stars do but the water had always been his refuge. He had spent hours floating in them with nothing but the twilight skies above. The muffled sounds as his ears lay just beneath the surface a sort of white noise that allowed him to rest.
The mage looked at his hands and a strange glow seemed to outline anywhere he looked. Was he dead? No, he had heard stories of the religious and read theories of great scientific minds. Though vastly different in their dogma, both agreed that upon death, the mortal body is discarded and the soul or life force remained to meld with either deity or the residual energy of the world.
Due to the vast amount of literature on either topic, the mage was certain that he was not part of the departed. Upon being pressed into service and sent to the academy, he had read many books and experimented in many ways. His expertise and subsequent testing is what allowed him to be able to wield such diverse magic. Indeed, despite his lowly birth he had been offered a spot on the Royal Academy where only nobles and mages of exceptional talent would study. He had accepted but only because his hunger for knowledge could not be satisfied by the basic arcane books housed in the crash course preparatory school that any magic adept orphan or delinquent was shoved into.
The Shooting Stars recruited heavily from the Cauldron, as the veterans of that place affectionately called the quasi prison that was the Magician Preparatory Institution. The Belisian military understood that it was better to utilize and guide those that had inherent magical aptitude rather than allow such power to wander slums and cause trouble or worse be seduced by the covert recruiters of the Viemese empire that operated in places were poverty and need thrived.
Indeed, Arn wondered how many of the mages he encountered in the frigate were of Belisian blood. The Viemese empire would not have been able to amass an army big enough to start their new machinations of conquest if they had not fresh blood from outside the empire. It was well known that in the Empire, those of magic ability were much more valued and led a better life than those without. It would not be a hard sell to an orphan living in the streets of Beliso that was very rigid in its heriachal structure.
So his question remained, how was he so aware if he was unconscious? By all rights he would be trapped in state of delirium caused by fever or the special medicines that mages required to heal from the ravages of over use of magic. The mortal body was not designed to withstand strong magics or prolonged use. It was mythical and truly awe inspiring that the Sorcerer King had managed the power enough to pull the moons. There was still debate whether he did it alone or utilizing a network of strong magic users. Whatever the case, the feat was still impressive.
Suddenly there was a tug at his very being. It was as if there was a thread within him that pulled him. He felt more than saw the motion. The darkness flowed around him like waters and he imagined if this is how fish felt when they were hooked. A glow started to appear before him. The light took shape and the shape morphed into a human appearance. It was hard to distinguish any true features as just like himself it was only the outline that shone.
As if to answer his question for better identification, patterns started to appear on the shape before him. The pattern seemed to be some sort of chains or bindings that covered the body of the shape before him. There was a sort of sadness, of pain, and of guilt. Despite himself, Arn wanted to reach out. Yet as he moved, or felt he did, the shape retreated. This caused the mage to reach further, trying to catch up to the shape that seemed to be just out of his reach.
The glow on the other shape began to fade. There was a sort of urgency on Arn’s part and he willed himself to reach the shape. A notion formed in his mind that perhaps the shape was his mother and this place was the in between the living and death. His hand extended forward and he cried out inside his mind
WAIT!
A he woke then, his arm weakly reaching forward. Instead of a shout his dry throat only produced a sort of choked croak. All the pain and exhaustion of the mortal condition came flooding back and his eyes closed with the sudden rush of bright light.
He heard a familiar voice as a hand was placed gently on his chest. “Whoa there boss, you aint 100 percent yet. Lay back down. Man, the Cap is gonna loose his shit. Not like he didn’t already when they brought you back looking like the dogs damn chew toy. It must have been a hell of fight if it left you looking like that boss.”
Arn opened one eye experimentally allowing it to get used to the light. His one eye verified the identity of the voice as a young mage named Tobi that seemed to follow him around like a puppy. This really annoyed Arn but just like a stary dog, it was hard to get rid of Tobi. The senior mage grunted. He was not stubburn enough to try and get up for he knew that the best thing to do in his condition was get better. He turned his to the right. In a bed next to him he saw a girl, dark blond hair and fair complexion, who seemed just as or worse off than him. The face was not one he recognized but somehow he felt the same pang he had felt as a shadow.
His body ached and every fiber of his being called for deliverance from this existence and succumb to the sweet rest that death provided. Yet no matter how much easier it would be to give in to that promise of bliss and as much as he hoped he would meet his mother in the energy womb of Gia, Arn was not ready to leave the world of the living. He felt there was much to do. He felt there was still much he could help with. As a tool, there was still much service he could provide.
He heard the Tyrhallan’s far away voice, as if he had fallen into a very deep cave. His vision was limited to shades and shapes. The mage drifted between consciousness. But there was more keeping him awake. So close to death, his connection to the spirits of Gia was more pronounced. They whispered warnings. There was even times when he could hear his own mothers voice.
The voices spoke of danger. They wanted him to be prepared. He felt a great disturbance in the threads of the Aether. Stronger still than the storm cover that had been utilized by the enemy to cover the three frigates. He tried to call out to the silver haired knight but no sound came from his mouth.
As he was passed along to Firenze Arn mustered all he could and was able to push himself far enough to finally see the bloody and bruised face of the Knight Captain. His eyes met Tryhallan’s but that was all. Suddenly, the darkness took him. His body had been taxed beyond belief and all the mage heard before he was enveloped was
“get him to a doctor, he's in need of one”
Arn found himself in a sea of black. He felt his body floating as effortlessly as he did when swimming in the few lakes and bodies of water still left on the broken world. He had sailed through the skies as all members of the Shooting Stars do but the water had always been his refuge. He had spent hours floating in them with nothing but the twilight skies above. The muffled sounds as his ears lay just beneath the surface a sort of white noise that allowed him to rest.
The mage looked at his hands and a strange glow seemed to outline anywhere he looked. Was he dead? No, he had heard stories of the religious and read theories of great scientific minds. Though vastly different in their dogma, both agreed that upon death, the mortal body is discarded and the soul or life force remained to meld with either deity or the residual energy of the world.
Due to the vast amount of literature on either topic, the mage was certain that he was not part of the departed. Upon being pressed into service and sent to the academy, he had read many books and experimented in many ways. His expertise and subsequent testing is what allowed him to be able to wield such diverse magic. Indeed, despite his lowly birth he had been offered a spot on the Royal Academy where only nobles and mages of exceptional talent would study. He had accepted but only because his hunger for knowledge could not be satisfied by the basic arcane books housed in the crash course preparatory school that any magic adept orphan or delinquent was shoved into.
The Shooting Stars recruited heavily from the Cauldron, as the veterans of that place affectionately called the quasi prison that was the Magician Preparatory Institution. The Belisian military understood that it was better to utilize and guide those that had inherent magical aptitude rather than allow such power to wander slums and cause trouble or worse be seduced by the covert recruiters of the Viemese empire that operated in places were poverty and need thrived.
Indeed, Arn wondered how many of the mages he encountered in the frigate were of Belisian blood. The Viemese empire would not have been able to amass an army big enough to start their new machinations of conquest if they had not fresh blood from outside the empire. It was well known that in the Empire, those of magic ability were much more valued and led a better life than those without. It would not be a hard sell to an orphan living in the streets of Beliso that was very rigid in its heriachal structure.
So his question remained, how was he so aware if he was unconscious? By all rights he would be trapped in state of delirium caused by fever or the special medicines that mages required to heal from the ravages of over use of magic. The mortal body was not designed to withstand strong magics or prolonged use. It was mythical and truly awe inspiring that the Sorcerer King had managed the power enough to pull the moons. There was still debate whether he did it alone or utilizing a network of strong magic users. Whatever the case, the feat was still impressive.
Suddenly there was a tug at his very being. It was as if there was a thread within him that pulled him. He felt more than saw the motion. The darkness flowed around him like waters and he imagined if this is how fish felt when they were hooked. A glow started to appear before him. The light took shape and the shape morphed into a human appearance. It was hard to distinguish any true features as just like himself it was only the outline that shone.
As if to answer his question for better identification, patterns started to appear on the shape before him. The pattern seemed to be some sort of chains or bindings that covered the body of the shape before him. There was a sort of sadness, of pain, and of guilt. Despite himself, Arn wanted to reach out. Yet as he moved, or felt he did, the shape retreated. This caused the mage to reach further, trying to catch up to the shape that seemed to be just out of his reach.
The glow on the other shape began to fade. There was a sort of urgency on Arn’s part and he willed himself to reach the shape. A notion formed in his mind that perhaps the shape was his mother and this place was the in between the living and death. His hand extended forward and he cried out inside his mind
WAIT!
A he woke then, his arm weakly reaching forward. Instead of a shout his dry throat only produced a sort of choked croak. All the pain and exhaustion of the mortal condition came flooding back and his eyes closed with the sudden rush of bright light.
He heard a familiar voice as a hand was placed gently on his chest. “Whoa there boss, you aint 100 percent yet. Lay back down. Man, the Cap is gonna loose his shit. Not like he didn’t already when they brought you back looking like the dogs damn chew toy. It must have been a hell of fight if it left you looking like that boss.”
Arn opened one eye experimentally allowing it to get used to the light. His one eye verified the identity of the voice as a young mage named Tobi that seemed to follow him around like a puppy. This really annoyed Arn but just like a stary dog, it was hard to get rid of Tobi. The senior mage grunted. He was not stubburn enough to try and get up for he knew that the best thing to do in his condition was get better. He turned his to the right. In a bed next to him he saw a girl, dark blond hair and fair complexion, who seemed just as or worse off than him. The face was not one he recognized but somehow he felt the same pang he had felt as a shadow.
I'll post something today or tomorrow.
I apologize for being slow to post, i just got back from a hundred mile trip and am sleepy
cue music "I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more..."
@Dr Lovecraft yeah, I don't mind fandom but I think the RP might feel more fresh if it was something new to discover with each post. I mean there would be some core rules like establishing races, magic or levels but other than that the sky was the limit. So maybe one player said that the game had dungeons. then the other player built on that and states that the dungeons could only be found in certain towns. then third player says that the kingdoms try to gain control of said dungeons due to the rich loot that they drop etc.
this way post after post the world is being built and discovered. But I definitely will look forward to the game you are planning. I may be a bit rusty on fandom but I can google things to fill in the blanks.
this way post after post the world is being built and discovered. But I definitely will look forward to the game you are planning. I may be a bit rusty on fandom but I can google things to fill in the blanks.
Greetings,
so I just finished the first season of Amazon Prime show called AFK. I think the setting is basically like all those Isekai where they wake up in an online game world. It was really interesting and I was wondering if there are any RPs out there similar to this. If so, I would like to join. If not, I was wondering if anybody was interested in starting one.
Here is the small print, I don't really want to be the GM. I was thinking of more like a collaboration similar to how one does improv and build on what other people provide. The group can discover the world one by one and add their own plot twists. after all, what is more interesting than not actually knowing what will happen next?
Ok so that is it. I will leave this here for about a week. If no interested I will fade back into the anonymity of cyberspace. Thanks for stopping by.
so I just finished the first season of Amazon Prime show called AFK. I think the setting is basically like all those Isekai where they wake up in an online game world. It was really interesting and I was wondering if there are any RPs out there similar to this. If so, I would like to join. If not, I was wondering if anybody was interested in starting one.
Here is the small print, I don't really want to be the GM. I was thinking of more like a collaboration similar to how one does improv and build on what other people provide. The group can discover the world one by one and add their own plot twists. after all, what is more interesting than not actually knowing what will happen next?
Ok so that is it. I will leave this here for about a week. If no interested I will fade back into the anonymity of cyberspace. Thanks for stopping by.
The young shield hero stood there next to Cole absently rubbing his left arm as his eyes were fixed on the last rites being performed by Auriel. He marveled at what he saw. Despite being in this world for almost a week he was still not used to the idea of magic. Yes, he had seen castles, knights, and people who looked like animals but still the idea of the manifestation of magic was fresh in his mind.
In his mind, he still thought of his winged companion as a heavenly host from the church stories of his world. He had heard the preacher do a sermon on the last battle between good and evil. As he had seen her battle, he could only imagine an entire army of lovely war angels. Yet despite her proficiency in battle, situations like this made her larger than life as she cared for the everlasting soul of men who had but minutes ago tried to end her life at the least and perform hideous acts to her at the worst.
As she spread her wings to their full extension he gawked. She looked beautiful standing there covered in radiance and with bodies of the dead at her feet. For all intents and purposes, she looked like the very embodiment of war angel. If he had read more, he would perhaps equate her to the Valkyries of northern myths that took the souls of the valiant to the mead halls of the Norse gods.
Fer averted his eyes a bit as the light intensified towards the apex of the rite. Then darkness rushed in to greedly swallow the light. She assured the that their spirits would not torment the living as their hosts had done while alive. That was a good turn out the hero supposed and he nodded towards her appreciatively.
His face then shifted to a perplexed look when he noticed the feeling wash through her features. Fer knew that she had been a leader of men in battles before. Surely she had seen death of that was no doubt. So it was not regret of killing that plagued her like it did Cole. So instead, he could only assume that she had lost somebody she cared for or in her care. He felt sad for her. That was the curse of all leaders. They are gifted with followers. Unfortunately, they are also likely to follow one to their deaths.
Fer walked over to her and placed a supporting hand on her shoulder. "I am glad to have you on our side." He smiled at her showing her the full meaning behind his words. He truly cared for her despite the short time together. He cared for Cole as well. He even cared for the world he now existed in. He cared for the people of this world like the poor farmer he could see peeking his worried face at them from the windows of the farm house.
"But I agree with you. I think the mama bear will be more trouble than the pups"
In his mind, he still thought of his winged companion as a heavenly host from the church stories of his world. He had heard the preacher do a sermon on the last battle between good and evil. As he had seen her battle, he could only imagine an entire army of lovely war angels. Yet despite her proficiency in battle, situations like this made her larger than life as she cared for the everlasting soul of men who had but minutes ago tried to end her life at the least and perform hideous acts to her at the worst.
As she spread her wings to their full extension he gawked. She looked beautiful standing there covered in radiance and with bodies of the dead at her feet. For all intents and purposes, she looked like the very embodiment of war angel. If he had read more, he would perhaps equate her to the Valkyries of northern myths that took the souls of the valiant to the mead halls of the Norse gods.
Fer averted his eyes a bit as the light intensified towards the apex of the rite. Then darkness rushed in to greedly swallow the light. She assured the that their spirits would not torment the living as their hosts had done while alive. That was a good turn out the hero supposed and he nodded towards her appreciatively.
His face then shifted to a perplexed look when he noticed the feeling wash through her features. Fer knew that she had been a leader of men in battles before. Surely she had seen death of that was no doubt. So it was not regret of killing that plagued her like it did Cole. So instead, he could only assume that she had lost somebody she cared for or in her care. He felt sad for her. That was the curse of all leaders. They are gifted with followers. Unfortunately, they are also likely to follow one to their deaths.
Fer walked over to her and placed a supporting hand on her shoulder. "I am glad to have you on our side." He smiled at her showing her the full meaning behind his words. He truly cared for her despite the short time together. He cared for Cole as well. He even cared for the world he now existed in. He cared for the people of this world like the poor farmer he could see peeking his worried face at them from the windows of the farm house.
"But I agree with you. I think the mama bear will be more trouble than the pups"
I seriously dropped the ball on this, haven't I?
I seriously cannot see who you did. I have no issue with editing the post. I actually thought that either way, Arn would probably be no more than dead weight in his condition so even if you wanted to close out the battle scene he would probably be a non contender. Hence my idea of moving to the hospital and in that manner be able to interact with @deia876lat with no true effect on the story other than our own personal growth. However, I am don't see like this has affected my feelings towards the RP. If anything, I feel I am not contributing much to world building because I do feel hesitant as to what would be acceptable.
However, to any body reading this too, I feel like our OOC discussion and how we adapt that to the IC is actually very valuable and applicable. That being said, I am truthfully happy with this RP and cant wait for more.
I am assuming its @vancexentan turn correct?
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