Rhaevnn Xeno — Roleplayer Guild

~IN THE BEGINNING~
Time: Second Hour and First Quarter of MiddleDay

Old Boar's Inn; Lobby
[Kresnik/Locien]

"Not quite yet," Locien would state, brushing his hat jangles from his eyes, "You haven't told me your name, mate." If Kresnik revealed his name or not, Locien would either nod in the hunter's direction, repeating the name under his breath or giving a single nod in silence before complying with his companion's wishes, "Onward to business." Fingertips would meet as his voiced dropped an octave lower, "Simply speaking, this entire enterprise is straightforward. We kill the witches. However, in order to understand them, you must know their history. Cittern was suddenly swept up, the elven bard leaned back, a song began and continued to be played until Locien was done speaking, "The Order of Kau has been and always will be, at least according to myth and prophecy. And this is because, well..." Locien paused, his instrument still playing, "There is honestly only one true god in this place of tangled fates and eternal waiting: Death. He, It, has always been worshipped, even before the Great Change, even after, while this city was built and the Brotherhood of Umbra was formed and followed..."

"...However, when Tutmose was filled and many followed the ways of the Brotherhood, this created a great rift between citizens. The Brotherhood, claimed that it was not actually Death who watched over the souls of The Crossroads, but his right hand man, The Caster of Shadows. At this moment, the lightning of the Old Boar's Inn flickered, like a candle bullied by a threatening breeze. Locien's playing halted, if only for a moment. He took a deep inhale, as if to shake off nervousness, before continuing both speech and song. "The Catcher, as he is referred to by those who do not want to attract his attention, was the new god, they said. He is more powerful, more caring, more just than Death." Locien's fingers increased in pace, following the narrative smoothly, intensely. "And this created the war. The battle of magics, of cloak and dagger, of deception and tremendous power vacuums. Some say that it was a secret war, some say that there was blood flowing in the streets, and everyone knew why." The elf shrugged. "I believe it was both, as any grand war does. But unfortunately for the Order, the Brotherhood gained the upper hand when law was established in all of the three walls. A member of the Clavant family took pity and brought the high priest before the Council of Five. From there, power and sway was given to the Brotherhood and finally the Order's practice was outlawed. On the night of The Shcism, blood truly did spill. Chaos sprouted in the Lows and escaped from the iron grip of the Highs Council. Those who survived fled to the far reaches of the WildWood and the rest is history."

The cittern rested, Locien blowing on his fingertips before finishing, "But only in recent years has the Order slowly grown anew in the Lows. Dispute of the Council has reached the ears of the Wild, and it looks to regain their lost influence..." Green eyes would meet lavender, meaning every word that was spoken, "They are powerful, mate. They have had centuries to practice their art of necromancy and biology, to perfect it, and to use it ways thought impossible. Too many accounts of both Death and the Catcher have been spoken for either of these beings to not exist, and the power given to their followers is not to be passed off lightly."

----

The Old Boar's Inn; Bar
[Missile/Pullo/Ganti]

Bruce would tap his nose knowingly with his giant finned hand, his beady right giving a wink as his other free hand began to shuffle around for the requested beer, "Double paired, straight from the tap, come'n up, Miss." As four glasses were produced from bar's belly, the sharkman's voice would boom over the now slowly filling inn's space, "Oi, Davey! Set me up one morning wakeup with two juiceballs!" Suddenly, one of the walls behind Bruce's right shoulder would shift open, a long shutter revealing an octopusman, his large bulging eyes glaring at Bruce, a swift nod following. Then, as soon as it appeared, it was vanish into the wall.

Missile's question would, however, be answered by the bartender as the glasses slid their way into the couples' hands, "Trust me, he had enough to kill three men." A hint of admiration was in Bruce's voice, "Must have a shark's liver." A deep chuckle would follow his small joke. "Anything else for yo--" However, the bartender's question was cut short by a new voice, "Hey!” A woman clad in a red strapless tank came running upward, almost slamming in the polished black stone, still jabbering, “Hey dude! Its me, the girl you had picked up by the head before? Hey! Umm, where did the weird rude guy go? I want to start our little journey! Oh and you might want to talked to Maddy. She seemed kinda upset when she left me…”

Bruce's brow would wrinkle as he looked at Ganti, beady eyes looking her up and down in a suspicious manner, "I dunno what journey you're talk'n about, but if ya mean that guy back there," A thick thumb jerked behind him towards the kitchen doors, "Haven't seen him since the scuffle." His eyes would narrow, "Whatchu want with 'im?" His massive torso would lean forward, looking down over the counter as he asked another question, "And what'chu do to Madeline...?"

++++

The WildWood; West Hemisquare
[Garret]

This new world would be new, begging for adventure and exploration, or so would say the vast plain that Garret would find himself upon. The grass was like a golden sea, issuing whispers across the shifting stalks of yellow, strange specks of color dotting across the landscape as far as the eye could see. If he truly cared, the man would soon be able to recognize this color as apparently native flowers, small fields of the varying colored flora radiating from the soft grass. However, even though his deity had undoubtedly left him in a safe place, one thing would also be as apparent as his surroundings - he was indeed alone. The direction of civilization would have to be assumed, as faith would be to be grasped. If the Roc had been leading him towards life and shelter, he would be pointing in the right direction... or so said a looming shadow that would be ever present in any direction. A mountain? A city? It would be difficult to fully tell, but regardless, travel was to be forced upon him, and for what would seem like forever, but truly be a falsehood, he would see nothing but grass and flower.

But in this small time frame, something scarlet would catch his eye eventually. Eventually, because it was dancing across the field, like strain of bright fluid running over a golden wall. If followed, he would be chasing something that seemed to come out of a dream - it would be elusive, playful. However, as time would wear on, he would be able to distinguish its shape - a beautiful being, clad in a loose dress or robe, moving ever as smoothly as the moment Garret had laid eyes upon it.

However, if he continued to walk east, as his deity directed him, he would see the beginning of a forming shape, or rather shapes. The horizon's shadow began to take a shape in a tall, looming manner. It would not be a mountain, but a forest, dark and foreboding. Furthermore, as Garret would continue to travel forward, he would perhaps notice that this forest would be all of one tree, untouched by man and allowed to grow to colossal size; all possible assumptions, but none the less possible fact. But perhaps, all of this would go unnoticed, for there would be a more pressing matter. Normally, such places of nature are filled with sound - birds, insects, and the like, making their calls of mating, of territorial standing, and celebrating their existence. This was not the case, for the closer he walked to the forest, the more still the world became. If he managed to keep his wit about him, and to continue forward in the face of uncertain and quite possible danger, Garret's bravery would cause him to discover a dirt trail winding into the belly of the wood...

+~+~+

~LONG LIVE THE KING~
Time: Second Hour and First Quarter of MiddleDay

???; Gerald's Home
[Halcyon/TSM/Gerald]

A wry smile would come across his mustached lips as Halcyon dimmed the lights for a setting and narrated his history. Gerald continued to sip tea as he listened, though his violet eyes never left the dark god's face, the time-traveler fully infatuated with the story woven in front of him. As Halcyon finished, Gerald would collect the cups and other small dishes. "Well, old chap," Gerald would blink to the sink across the room, carelessly dumping the dishes into what assumed to be the sink with a obnoxiously loud crash, "I like the way you think, straight to the point, not bothered by revenge or any other..." Gerald would be walking back, but stopped briefly when seeing The Story Master. However, he would continue after sniffing, walking back into this chair, "aspects of the sort. But ah, as for my employer..." A partially gloved hand reached into the folds of his scarf, removing an over-sized pocket watch. Popping the mechanism open, he inspected it swiftly before closing and returning it to the folds with one swift motion, "We will not be meeting until this underlight."

Blinking over to the bed, Gerald laid on his side. "Best time to get some shut eye, eh?" The thief then laid on his back, allowing his tophat to fall over his eyes, "See you chaps in a few hours, wot?" Suddenly, his hand shot up over his head, pointing to the ceiling. "There's a hammock up there, though your..." The hand rolled inward, as if searching for something, "...manservant will have to sleep on the floor."

Rhaevnn Xeno Member

Caster of Shadows

Status

Bio

Most Recent Posts