Transience — Roleplayer Guild

K i ’ i r a

"Dammit!" one of the decorated knights shouted as the fox-eared woman slipped from their grasp in a display of shocking vitality. "Dammit! Go after her!" he screamed, inciting all the guards from within the building the building to draw their weapons and work their legs as hard as possible to chase her in vain. The knights themselves wore armour that was far too heavy for them to be able to give chase; but that was what the grunts were for. 
"We didn't even get her name," that second knight exclaimed to the first, frustration working its way into his voice. 
"We need to find her. She has made the mistake of showing her power. It can only be her,"  the first said in reply. The second simply nodded his head, drew long his titanic blade, and began a menacing march toward the street. 

The guards fanned out across the upper districts, though, not believing Ki'ira would stay there for long enough for her recapture, additional details were called upon to search the slums and the lower districts. Surely one such as herself would have an easier time blending in with the peasants and the beggars than with the nobles. The woman only wore simple highwayman clothes that had grown sodden, ripped, and dirty following her arrest and return to the capital. 
The guards would search the taverns, the brothels, the alleys, and the temples. They would knock in doors and aggressively plunder every nook and cranny within; they needed to find her. She was vital to the Kingdom, and she knew it. 

The guards are searching for you. All of them. They want you back really, really badly. Wherever Ki'ira decides to shelter from them will eventually be searched (this is unconditional, and you must make it so) though you can continue to take flight if they come too close. Perhaps you need to escape the city somehow, though undoubtedly all the gates are being watched. Or you could get arrested again. Up to you!

E l l a r i a n

The rising sun would meet Ellarian's battle scarred skin once more as he would leave the Fortress: his final resting place, and the place upon which he would once more gaze into the world. The soldiers had thrown him a feast on the midnight hour that night, throwing so many rations into the celebrations that the men surely would have been starving for weeks to come because of it; but they felt it was necessary to give their hero and saviour a proper send-off to meet the King, even though it had become more apparent to them over the course of the last few days that Ellarian was a man who wanted not the accolades and proceedings of a hero. They knew that Ellarian saw himself only as a soldier, which made their admiration for him grow like a mighty oak. 

There had been sadness amongst the men as he set off upon the morning light, like a shadow disappearing into the hot desert light. They knew that nothing would have been able to hinder him on his journey; the mountain of a man would undoubtedly stay unassailed by bandits and robbers, and whatever else lay in wait on the long road to Kolantis. 

That very road was a desolate one indeed. Things had changed vastly since Ellarian originally walked the world. There used to be life amongst the Northern sands: doyles and sand-mice, darting between the small spouts of green, birds overhead patiently waiting on a smaller beast to succumb to the heat. But now there was little more than the vast expanse of golden brown, empty and quiet, with naught but the wind and the pitter-patter of horse hooves in the sand to clamour against the silence. 
Night would fall, and cold would set upon him, but undoubtedly this did not bother such a stout man. On he went, sauntering through the blistering sands, day upon day, seemingly endlessly. 

There were no taverns, no welcoming places in which he could stop and rest. Only more sand welcomed him onward. Sand. So much sand. 

Days went by, Ellarian passed dunes and valleys of dust, outcrops of sandstone that stretched for miles (through which he and his mount would have to trickily traverse to avoid injury), legions of rocky monoliths that could have only once been canyons, and mountains far upon the horizon. 

It had been seven days since Ellarian had left the fortress, and perhaps a thought of hopelessness would have creeped upon his mind, until the sands seemed to give way to fertile soil and green grass. Through a mountain pass was the end of the Northern Sands; an incredible place that marked the end desolation, and instead opened upon remarkable verdancy in comparison to the endless dunes. 

Before Ellarian was an oasis of sorts, a small river meandering through the sparsely grassed dirt that give life to a small thicket of exotic plants and trees. It was a veritable city of nature amongst the sparseness of the land around, one that was almost too beautiful to be true. And next to the oasis... a tavern. 'The Laughing Monk' a faded sign read as it swayed gently in the breeze. Perhaps such a place would harbour a warm bed and hot food...?  

OOoooooh. Do you stop? If so, do you set up camp in the oasis, or do you go into the tavern for a nice, warm bed for the night? Either is an acceptable choice. You are obviously free to improvise the interior of the tavern if you make that choice, and you are free to describe the oasis however you would like if you choose it. This should be interesting, because it may be the case that neither of these places are what they seem... :)

If you set up some strange 'goings on' in wherever you decide to go, I will adapt and make something interesting happen.

N o r c o  K h a n

It took the remaining hunters some time to gather up the fallen amongst them, to give them the proper rites and rituals of the Eastern peoples. A burial would have been a harsh fate this far from the villages and the mountains, and so began to arduous task of each man hoisting one of their kin upon their backs and bringing them home; it was the least they could have done. But what an honour it must have been to serve under the Wolf King in his most mighty endeavour to retrieve his prize. 

The Chief, however, stood amongst the ruckus of funeral rites and stared upon the Wolf King with burning eyes. To him, it made little sense as to why his own kin would give their lives for a story that had emerged from the wilderness. What if this 'Wolf King' was simply a giant of a man who had a sorcerer alter his eyes to match the description of a faded tale from long times past? He killed the dragon, but with so many hunters backing him, surely it was only a matter of time? 

Who was this man? he thought to himself. He is nothing. I am far more than he ever could be. He must be rid of.

The Chief smiled to himself. He smiled such a furious grin that his blackened and filed teeth showed in the wintery light. 
"My Lord," the Chief said almost sarcastically, acting with a comical melodrama. I must talk with you about a most pressing matter," he continued. 

When he was sure he had Norco Khan's attention after he had secured his prizes to his pelt, he continued: "There is a man in one of the Heartland border villages, a man who is so full of his own hubris that he often tells tales that spread far and wide of his prowess in battle. For years he has claimed that no foe may match him, and that should he be given the chance, he could match any warrior from past or present," he looked Norco right in his pearly, pure eyes. "He once said that the Great Norco Khan would plead for mercy in his presence," he continued. The Chief smiled his frightening smile once more. "His name is Delunio the Great. Perhaps you would be best served now to reassert your dominance upon this world, and show all those around you that you may not be matched,"

HMMMM. What an interesting piece of information. 

Naturally, this is free form. You are under no obligation to take the Chief's somewhat backhanded advice, but should you do so, you could easily reach the village of Korsia in your post. Once reaching it, it would be a pretty good idea to ask around for the 'Delunio the Great' and see if you can make sense of the situation.

A l t i m

Dubiously, the guard pushed open the ornate front gate to the Bastion's outer hold, and led Altim inside. It was dark within, much darker than the outside world that was illuminated by two suns hanging silently in the sky. It was almost as if the Bastion was suddenly devoid of all torches, flames, and lights. Ironic, especially for something that was named the 'Bastion of Light'
The guard slammed the door closed behind them, engulfing the pair in haunting blackness, leaving the eyes helpless. Yet, as soon as the doors had been closed, the guard struck a flame and touched it to a torch that was hanging on the wall. The interior of the Bastion at once came alive, reflecting fire-like light from every surface. The walls were smooth and well forged, and the inscriptions that ran from every wall were just as intricate and crisp as they ever had been. If ever there was a place in Ansus that did not allow itself to succumb to time, it most certainly was the Bastion of Light. 

The guard took a moment to take it all in. It was just as wondrous to him as it was the first time he set foot within those hallowed walls. A sense of peace had overcome him, and his previously on-edge demeanour had faded into calm. 
"The situation is dire," he admitted after both he and Altim had a moment to admire the masonry. "Normally we simply would not allow a wanderer within these walls, but desperate times have called for us to be more lenient. There are... rumours. Rumours of legends from times past raising themselves from beyond. Here, we are more inclined to believe such rumours than we would otherwise have been..."

The guard did little to satiate the look of confusion that Altim would have given him following his last statement. "Just... just follow me. There is something you need to see. Perhaps if you truly are Altim then you can make sense of this."

The guard hurriedly began to climb the stairs, stairs that wound around the tower in tighter and tighter spirals. Each new floor they passed would become lighter and lighter, until the guard put out the torch light. And still they climbed hundreds of flights of stairs, as though they were climbing some surreal stairs into the heavens themselves. The closer they got to the top of the tower the more an overbearing sense of calm washed over them, the more the serene evening light would pour in through ornate windows to highlight every rune carved upon those winding walls. 
It was not long before they reached what must have been the top of the tower. The stairs levelled into a spacious landing, across from which were two huge, decorated doors which depicted the Great Fire being surrounded by holy men of all walks of life. The Chamber of Light, no doubt. 

"Blessed of Faerthus, make sense of this," the guard said, as he pushed through the doors and immediately bowed. At first, Altim would have been unable to see why, but as he would walk through the doors he would have first seen his violin hanging proudly upon the far wall beside a particularly elaborate inscription, and then he would have seen Ansur, the Forefather of Ansus itself, kneeling before the burned out pyre.

:D 

Grab that violin. Do some magic. If need be, contact me directly via PM and we can do a little collaboration post from here.

V o l k i m i r

The young man's eyes widened as he saw, past the thin moonlight, a man deform and mutate in a way which was both unnatural and seemingly impossible. He could not see his face as it was obscured by shadow, but he immediately knew that this was no ordinary man, nor was it an ordinary sorcerer. This was something entirely different.  

As the strange man descended from the wall and into the obscuring umbra, the young man retreated behind the corner of the slumlike shack he was using to obscure himself. He hid deep in the darkness, not wanting to be seen as Volkimir passed by. And even then, he was sure that a deathly glance was shot in his direction as he crossed the alleyway, and his long, spindly shadow reached down the alley like claws of darkness reaching for his very soul. 

He poked his head around the corner after some time had passed. He knew that this was crazy, and playing with forces unknown was a great way to get himself killed, but he was on a mission. And seeing a single man so silently and ruthlessly subdue a guard with such power was... an opportunity that he did not want to miss. He could see Volkimir quickly walk down the poorly lit street, his shadow still trailing behind him like some overly-loyal pet. The man popped out in his entirety, and, against all semblance of self-preservation, called out rather loudly to the vampire lord:

"Hey! Hey, you!" he began. "I saw what you did to that guard!" the man's heart practically dropped in his chest as the vampire lord undoubtedly began to slow and turn to him. "I... I-I-" he stuttered. "I... I was told to find people who would fit into our band of thieves. We have a hideout under the city sewers. M-maybe you... you would like to talk with our leader?

Take a stranger up on his offer? Or another lamb for the slaughter? Feel free to take full control of the young man, regardless of which path you choose to take. In the case of the former, you are free to improvise the hideout and have the young man lead you down there for discussions with the leader of the band of thieves.
Transience Member

Disgustingly Vengeful

Status

Bio

Most Recent Posts
