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Nov 01, 08 at 2:34am ^Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
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Of the great war, another miracle was born. The Gifts. Nobody is completely sure what exactly the Gifts are or how they came to be in the hands of humans, but every human has a special, unique power that no one else does.
Under the guidance of the guilds, mankind was told how to rebuild. Through the power of Gifts, mankind was able to do so.
That was ten years ago. Back then, guilds were merely a grouping of people from the same area, but now they have grown into something more. Organizations of thousands. The guild heads rule the world now. The Hall of Guilds in Borzheim is the head of law and politics in Elinia.
The Order of Magisters, a body that operates separate of the guilds, was founded shortly after reconstruction began and is devoted entirely to the Gifts. Upon birth, every infant born on Elinia must register at the Magister's headquarters in Aydurin where the infant's gift is determined and recorded next to his or her name.
In the past ten years, the magisters have come to the conclusion that the Gifts are derived from Elinia's very energy and force, which the magisters have dubbed 'mana.'
Thus, the magical abilities unique to humans are the Gifts of Elinia. Thanks are given to Elinia each day for its gracious gift.
All was well. The human race was beginning to prosper once more.
But as with all things, calamity struck.
Two guild cartographers exploring the southern reaches of Elinia came upon the most shocking discovery mankind had ever been faced with: the edge of the world. Elinia was eroding.
Speculation flies about the cause of the decomposition. Is it overuse of Elinia's life force, mana? After all, mana has been making life for humans comfortable for the past ten years. They are addicted to it. How could the human race possibly stop using it so suddenly?
Arguments have risen between the guilds and tension is high. The magisters struggle to remain independent and to examine the issue themselves, but find themselves slowly being sucked into the debates and conflict. As a result, the schism that has split the guilds spreads to the Magister's Order and has left all sides arguing bitterly with the others. Among the guilds, one guild in particular, Deviant, gains massive momentum and power and exerts it over the Magister's Order to confiscate the records of Gifts in Aydurin. Infants born with potentially threatening gifts and older individuals who have yet to join a guild are snatched by Deviant to be trained as warriors for the guild, while those who have joined rival guilds are silenced.
In an effort to remain independent, some magisters attempt to leave the order. They are banished from the Order and exiled from Aydurin.
Mana is the hot topic on the streets, and the fear of Elinia's erosion. But there is another fear nobody speaks of. The unity of the guilds has disappeared rapidly. What the human race fears more than mana consumption and the edge of the world, is another great war between all of the guilds. Deviant seems a likely contender.
While the guilds argue among themselves, a new guild called Era is formed in the city Talaren and begins to gather new members. Headed by the mysterious man who calls himself Nix Procer, Era remains a relatively small guild and lacks the power and influence to be considered in the debates in Borzheim, but it is gaining momentum. So much so, that a former magister approaches the guild with a request for escort to the Edge of the World...
basik speeleen, and. gramer, skillz' rekwired? [batteries not included]
(In other words: If your posts are legible and contain an adequate amount of periods where necessary, you'll be fine)
1. THE SEVEN LINE RULE!
This is the big one. Follow this one or Lei and/or Amano just might set you on fire. And if they don't, rest assured that I will. *_*
If you have any questions at all about the 7-line rule that the linked thread somehow fails to answer, then PM either Lei, Amano, or myself. Furthermore, if you aren't sure whether or not your post is long enough, PM IT TO ME AND I WILL LOOK AT IT!
2. Pretty much everything else.
The usual, guys. No flaming, no spam, no god-modding, etc.
Edit: Damn it. I forgot. I was gonna wait till my 5k post to make this thread.
Oh well. I guess now I'll have to think of some other way to make it moderately significant.
Mod Edit: Nov 12, 08 by Ishilar
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Nov 01, 08 at 2:35am ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
Elinia Map (NAO WITH MOAR COLERZ! )
I will not be accepting characters from the Forgotten Land.
Deviant: A guild based in Sorenheim led by Laer Gabrathis. Over the past two years, Deviant has gained a huge amount of power and momentum in the Guild Hall and has recently taken control of the Magister's Order. As it's name implies, it is less than fair and generally deals in behind-the-scenes killing and illegal activities and has recently been recruiting members with powerful Gifts through threats, if necessary. It seems to be preparing for war.
Magister's Order: The Order is based in Aydurin and is the authority on Gifts and the census records of Elinia. With the recent erosion, it has been split as has the Guild Hall. Nonetheless, the Order extends a large influence over Elinia and members of the Order are extraordinarily talented in the use of their Gifts. Deviant has recently begun exerting influence over it, however, causing many to flee.
Era: A brand new guild based in the city of Talaren and led by the enigmatic Nix Procer. As it is a very small guild, it is ignored by Deviant. It has recently begun taking small requests and missions from citizens to make a name for itself.
Name: (What is your character called?)
Age: (Now accepting characters from the Bronze Age [No seriously, how old is your character?])
Appearance: (All characters should have skin. Somewhere. Preferably around their organs. Everything else is optional)
History: (Past lives do not count)
Gift: (This can, quite literally, be ANY ability you want...within reason [thereby contradicting the first statement]. No God hax, please.)
Weapon(s): (You do not have to have these, although it is recommended if you want your character to live. Not necessary, however, if your character's Gift provides him/her with adequate offense/defense capabilities)
Other: (Whatever isn't included above. OPTIONAL)
If interested in joining, fill out the above character sheet and PM to Me
Mod Edit: Nov 12, 08 by Ishilar
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Nov 01, 08 at 2:36am ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
These are abilities that have already been taken. You may reserve a Gift while you make the rest of your character if you think it might be taken by someone else.
Foresight/Fortune-Telling (Broken Alleluia)
Chameleon (blending into one's surroundings) (Ishilar)
Illusions (Kasumi Light)
Shadow Manipulation (Wolf of Light)
Healing (Tiger of Wu)
quote Norad2Not sure how to sum this one up. Congratulations, Norad. xD
Earth Manipulation (Kushluk Shimazu)
Emotions (can feel the emotional states of others) (Wyvern Knight Zero)
Copy (Can copy other's Gifts) (Aeola)
Fire Manipulation (Zhan Dathka)
Object Summon (IceWolfklaske)
Everything else is fair game for the moment.
Name: Rith Soromer (Ishilar)
Appearance: Rith is tall and wiry, possessing a mat of unkempt dark brown hair falling just short of his neck. His facial features are almost regal, but is counteracted by the way Rith carries himself. His hazel eyes and subtle smile are a winning combination with many women in Talaren.
As a choice of attire, Rith deigns to wear black pants, a dark red shirt, and a midnight blue cloak that hides the knives at his belt.
History: Rith spent much of his child life hiding in a cave in eastern Elinia. Born during the time of the War, Rith's childhood memories are ones only of fear and desperate struggle. Finally, however, the war ended when Rith was thirteen. His family celebrated their survival of the war and helped to build the city Talaren. At the age of fifteen, his parents were snatched by Deviant because of their Gifts. Left to fend for himself, Rith became a worker with the sole desire of rescuing his parents from Deviant. As he continued to mature, however, Rith came to doubt the well-being of his parents and assumed them dead or worse. He turned his anger on Deviant and vowed to bring the mighty guild down. He continued to work and support himself, waiting for the opportunity to attack Deviant. He dared not join a guild, for it was impossible to tell who was allied with Deviant and who was not. Especially not after the discovering of the Edge of the World. Everything was mired in confusion after that. However, two months ago, opportunity arrived in the form of the guild, Era. Founded in his own city, Rith was sure of its ties to Deviant, or lack of, and joined it immediately.
Gift: Chameleon - changes Rith's appearance so that he blends in perfectly with his surroundings. While invisible (for lack of a better word), Rith cannot be detected through other Gifts. Rith must remain relatively stationary for it to work properly.
Weapon(s): A series of four long daggers are kept at his belt at all times. No less than six throwing knives are hidden in various places on his person at all times.
Personality: Despite his past, Rith is very laid back and cheerful, often telling jokes when everybody else is down on their luck. However, deep down, he never forgets his goal of bringing down Deviant, and behind his jokes and care-free demeanor, he takes guild work very seriously.
Name: Hana Kimura (Kasumi Light)
Appearance: Dark, auburn hair that hangs to her elbows in two ponytails. She also has slightly tanned skin, and bright, piercing blue eyes. She is somewhat short for 22.
Her usual outfit consists of a hooded black cloak, black shorts, and a black T-shirt.
History: She was born and raised in Deviant, where she was trained in swordsmanship, but swordsmanship was an instant fail, and at the age of 18, she left Deviant. She couldn't take the killing that she saw, threatening people to come to the Guild, none of it was right. She jinxed her way out of the Guild, and traveled around until the guild Era was formed, which she joined.
Gift: Gift: Hana is like a witch, with the ability to create illusions. She can't blend in with her surroundings, nor can she see the future like most witches, or even cast many spells for that matter. This was a help in her escape from Deviant.
Weapon(s): *see gift*
Personality: Screw writing it, you'll find out in the roleplay. (lulz)
Name: Gaunt Drake (Wolf of Light)
Appearance: Gaunt is tall, standing a 6"2, and though his frame is slight he is extremely muscular. His fair hair is worn loose to the shoulder, and his eyes are a light shade of blue. His right ear is pierced several times, mostly in the cartilaginous areas. He has a small scar just above his left eye.
Gaunt wears a sleeveless cuirass of black leather, with bracers and greaves to match. His boots are black trimmed with silver thread around the top.
The cuirass is emblazoned with a silver rose insignia.
Gaunt also wears a black hooded cloak.
History: A pauper from birth-his parents lying dead from disease on the ruined streets of Raesil-Gaunt was taken in by a kind-hearted noble, Lord Reglius Drake, to replace the son he lost to the very same disease. The resemblance to his adoptive father's lost heir is uncanny, to the extent that his surrogate mother has all but forgotten her original infant.
After training under Reglius' guardsmen in the ways of the blade and the bow, Gaunt began to experiment with various other types of combat. He is an exceptional fighter with or without a weapon, though his greatest skill resides in the blade.
Gift: Gaunt's Gift allows him to give darkness corporeal form. As he has honed his abilities, Gaunt has progressed from hurling mishapen blobs of shadow to forming weapons and even spectral guardians from the darkness. For obvious reasons, his gift is much stronger during the nocturnal hours.
Thorne: Forged by the count's personal smith, Thorne is a curved longblade, resembling a shamshir, but thicker and with vicious serrated spikes on one side. Gaunt wields the weapon reverse-handled for the most part, and his unique fighting style of twirls and spins fits in well with the odd blade.
Personality: Gaunt is dark, brooding and taciturn, saying little. The monosyllables he does utter infrequently are seldom pleasant, often laced with bitterness. However, he is honourable, chivalrous, and good-hearted beneath his cold exterior.
No-one knows why Gaunt is so unfriendly- he had a relatively peaceful childhood from age 12 onwards- but clearly something awful happened to render him so unhappy.
Name: Razvan Maoulter (Rass-fan May-ol-ter) (Norad2)
Appearance: All most people ever see of Razvan is a 5'5" bundle of tightly wrapped robes with a hood, as deep and pure and blue as the oceans of heaven itself. His entire face is hidden either directly by the cloth of the hood, or by the shadow that it casts. Beneath this barrier of silken garb however is a surprisingly handsome, deeply tanned face with a firm jaw, perfect nose, and thick black hair that hangs to his shoulders, mussed slightly by constant contact with his hood. His eyes, by stark contrast, are faded and lonely and emotionless.
History:Razvan was born near the center of Elinia to a pair of wandering gypsies during the time of the War. The couple prized their first son above all else, and were heartbroken to realize that he lacked all primary senses; Razvan never had, and never would, experience sights, sounds, tastes, textures, or smells of the world that he was born in to. His father even doubted if such a child could survive, but his mother swore to live and die for her child, even if he could never know or understand what living really was.
It was just before his third birthday that something occurred which gave his loving parents at least a small bit of hope. While his father set up their camp for the night, his mother approached the basket Razvan lay in to feed him. As she drew near, he turned his head and gazed directly at her. Immediately she was overcome with a tremendous sensation of love, so much so that she nearly burst into tears at the onrush of the inexplicable emotion. She also became acutely conscious of how hungry Razvan was.
As the years went by, Razvan began to function more and more like a human being. He still never spoke, but somehow anyone who was within about twenty feet of him would suddenly become aware of how he was feeling at any given moment. Miraculously, he could also locate people and objects as easily as if he could see them. After the discovery of the first set of gifts, Razvan's parents realized that their son must have such an ability, and did all they could to discover the depths of it and help him cultivate it. Unfortunately, both of his parents died under unknown circumstances just as Razvan began to attain a level of self -awareness similar to that of an adult.
Gift: Razvan projects a sort of sphere of influence, reaching out from his core for about twenty feet in all directions. He can sense mana and the flow of mana within this sphere, and uses it to find his way through the world via means similar to echo location. He detects all living things as luminous smudges, and can sense their thoughts, emotions, and intentions (the colors of the smudges vary depending on all of these factors). He is also able to communicate by way of projecting his own thoughts, feelings, and emotions into others within his sphere. Recently, he has displayed the ability to influence the movements of things within his sphere, and has even been seen to cause small objects to fly through the air.
Other: When Razvan communicates with another, he does not use words or speak in the traditional sense. Instead he projects feeling and emotion, making people know things immediately. Because of the nature of his gift however, his communications are affected by his own current emotional state. For example, if he attempts to tell Jill that Jack is slightly irritated with her, but he himself is feeling upset at the time, he may over- exaggerate and cause Jill to see visions of a horrible, snarling monster.
By "reading" others within his sphere, he has assembled a secondhand sort of consciousness and understands almost as much about the world in general as a normal human being. There are some things, however, that elude him completely.
Name: Cura (doesn't use her last name anymore) (Tiger of Wu)
Appearance: Cura stands at 4'10 and is of a very thin build. Her short, jet black hair and her dark black eyes are perfect contrasts to her pale skin. She wears dark, commonly gothic, clothes. On her bony face, around half of her right eye, is a black tattoo of a Celtic-like pattern. Her left hand is missing it's ring finger.
History: Being born into a highly respected family made Cura's early childhood a good, comfortable one. She was raised by her mind-reading father, time-manipulating mother and fire-controlling brother. They not only raised her, but taught her the ways of the guilds so that one day she could join the one they belonged to, Deviant. Once her father realised Deviant's true intentions, however, they decided to flee Sorenheim and get as far away as possible, where Deviant couldn't get Cura. Unfortunately before they could flee three guild members were sent to get her, killing any who opposed them. One of the three members had the ability to nullify the gifts of others, leaving them helpless. Cura was captured and her family killed. For years she lived as a test subject, being cut apart every day and put back together as Deviant tried to find the source of a person's gift. Eventually Cura escaped with the help of other prisoners of Deviant. After escaping Sorenheim she began travelling from city to city, evading the guild which hunted her. When she was fifteen however she realized that she shouldn't be running, she should be fighting. She should be getting revenge. She vowed to destroy those who made her feel the pain she was forced to feel. After hearing about Era, it's opposition to Deviant and a mission they would soon undergo, Cura began to make her way towards Talaren in the hopes of joining them.
Gift: Cura's gift allows her to heal from virtually any wound with great speed. She cannot grow back entire limbs, but she can re-attach them provided the wound from which they were dismembered is reopened. It is currently unknown whether or not she can die as she has been beheaded before, healing completely shortly after someone held her head onto her neck.
Weapon(s): Cura always carries some form of stolen knife with her, be it a standard butchers knife or a ceremonial religious knife. If she sees one she likes, her liking being based upon her mood, she'll take it and leave behind whichever one she was carrying. She isn't a skilled fighter so when using it in a fight she's less then useful, but she isn't afraid to sneakily kill someone with it, provided she feels they deserve death.
Other: Usually tucked into her shirt is a necklace which she keeps her missing finger on as a reminder that she is still Human.
The tattoo on her face hides her gift from those who can sense them, allowing her to evade the Deviant guild members who track people by doing so. It also allows her to hide a certain amount of her emotions from those who can otherwise sense them.
Name: Ian Karnell (Zero_is_just_cool)
Appearance: Light tan, just enough to separate him from a plain white person. Reddish-brown hair, brushed back and neck high. Green eyes, with a bit of hazel color in them. "Manly" face, with charming but imposing features. 178cm tall, with medium to strong build. Wears a dark steel cuirass, along with matching greaves, boots and gauntlets. His armor is strong without being overwhelmingly heavy. Over his cuirass, wears a wine-colored linen jacket, with light yellow details.
History: The Karnell family enjoyed the luck of being on the winning side. Ian was born among the Deviant, his father being a commanding officer in the guild for as long as he could remember. From the very start, Conrad Karnell knew his son was too much of a success in social meetings for that to be unrelated to his Gift. Ian grew knowing of the more passive part of his Gift, not revealing the relation between his charisma and his power, managing to fool even the Order itself.
Following his father's footsteps, Ian began as a low-rank officer, leading patrol groups and the like. Quickly, however, he earned favor of his superiors, aided by his competence, his Gift, and the Karnell name. In time, he became one of the "elite", an enforcer of Deviant's undefiable will. Ian killed many gifted from other guilds, and took many others more or less against their will before that.
Then, last year, while tracking down an especially Gifted man in Talaren, he went MIA. The skilled men sent to investigate never made it back, and the case was closed by a mourning Conrad, who was afraid of the many ways in which his family's name could be stained if any more men were lost to find his son's dead body.
After his dissapearance, Ian kept a low profile, until the formation of Era, which he promptly joined. The reasons for his defection are not entirely known even to himself, but he blames it having reached the "top", since anything in his career further than that would mean being stuck with administration work for the rest of his life.
Gift: Karnell's Gift was accurately nicknamed "Presence" by himself, being of constant effect. It consists of influencing the minds of all who are around him, like an irresistible charm, an aura of persuasion, intimidation, charisma, and seduction, which reaches anyone who is aware of his presence or close enough, being more effective the closer the person is. His opponents find him more imposing, more dangerous than he would already seem. At the same time, he seems more pleasant, more likable to the people around him. Finally, his Gift allows him to dominate the will of those who, compared to him, are weak minded, allowing him to give them minor orders, like delaying an attack for a few seconds or moving just a few feet to the right, so he can enter a guarded area. Those who receive those orders are likely to obey his command, and it will seem to them that they are supposed to do so. Once aware of it, however, a person is able to resist his charm, if he or she tries to. Karnell is likely to never reveal the more subtle part of his Gift, meaning people might never find out why he is so attracting and charismatic.
Weapon(s): Being raised in a wealthy family with military history, Ian was raised to be both a politician and a hitman. Master of some forms of martial arts and very skilled with pretty much any weapon. Carries a simple shortsword and a not-so-simple crossbow, named Haythe. The crossbow was made with a special combination of materials, making it especially flexible and strong at the same time, plus insuring great tension to the bolts. The several colors of wood are crearly noticeable, ranging from Ivory color to Ebony. The sword is so cheap that he doesn't like to talk about it.
Personality: Humorous while mature. Karnell has the tendency to play politics better than anyone else could. He loves to play with people's heads whenever he is able to. Fast thinker, but that feature must always fight his overwhelming sense of caution and great sense of awareness, making him think fast, but think six times through. Finds it very easy to laugh at himself. An easily lovable guy, with or without his Gift.
-Secretly wears velour underwear, and this is a secret that no one who finds out will be sober enough to realize. That or the person will not really be interested in that specific detail when she talks about it.
-Is one hell of a cook.
-Managed to keep secret his past from almost all guild member, with the sole exception of Nix himself.
-Has a special thing for "unique" weapons, having assembled an armory in his previous home in Sorenheim. He was heartbroken to leave his babies behing, but is trying to put together a new collection in Talaren. But since Era hasn't been taking any big jobs, he didn't have the chance to come across anything that could be even considered a "pretty weapon", let alone rare or "unique".
-He prefers to be called by his family name, rather than his first name.
Name: Kushluk Von Shimazu (Kushluk Shimazu)
Appearance: Fair skinned and Strong-built. Standing at around 5"10" weighing around 215lbs with short messed up brown hair with clear baby blue eyes. His clothing consists of weathered tanned colored uniform pants, sand T-shirt which is topped off with a dark brown vest with many pockets and faded green steel-toed boots.
History: Originally from the streets of Raesil, Kush spent his young life as a trouble maker. He constantly got into fights with everyone simply because he was bigger than most and he really enjoyed putting others in their place. His parents eventually eased their son's aggression, however that all went to hell a few weeks later when he was cornered by his former victims of his brawls as they ganged up on him. They proceeded to beat him senselessly with their fists, kicks and curses. All the while Kush gritted his teeth and let the blows fall on him, his father's lesson of "reaping what you sow" fresh in his mind.
But when one of the kids started to grab rocks and throw it at him, the young boy panicked and held up his hands to protect himself ... only to have the rocks hold in mid air and then drop harmlessly in front of him. The children immediately told their parents and almost the next day two men in robes from the Magister's headquarters came to take the young boy under their tutelage.
After nine years of training, schooling, and living in Aydurin Kushluk saw the schism form in the Order and knew things where about to get very, very ugly. He then gathered the few meager possessions he had and left out on the road to make his own fortune.
Gift: Kushluk can harness the earth of Elinia itself. From throwing chunks of rocks at his foes, using it as a sort of "flying carpet" for transportation to hardening his skin with a layer of stone. The downside though is that within the immediate area of Kush (within a mile) he can "feel" the earth. Any foul use of Mana within that radius he will feel the taint and will be overcome by it if he allows himself exposed to it for to long.
Weapon(s): He carries a repeater crossbow can hold up to nine shots. He has two "clips" in the pockets on his vest, it's range is up to 90 yards and is hung on the side of his belt when not used. He also carries with him a Double Voulge http://koeiwarriors.co.uk/images/weapons/dw4/weiyan_1.jpg that has a unique mechanism. It can fold in two and is held together by a chain, and if flung at it's foe it can reach up to ten yards with deadly effectiveness.
Personality: Despite those crystal baby blue eyes Kushluk is a fighter through and through. He firmly believes in an "eye for eye" policy and goes by his own moral code of ethics and honor. Politics and religion have no bearing on his mind whatsoever, he loves to laugh and merry around without a care and enjoys the closeness of friends, even if temporary. Kushluk will always have a grin and try to see the better side of people, sometimes to his own undoing. Sometimes he forgets to keep his wits about him in a fight and will not focus, thus making him somewhat unpredictable ... especially if he had a bit too much to drink.
Name: Child Abishai (Wyvern Knight Zero)
Appearance: Abishai has never been one that has ever cared much for aesthetics – his sense of pride has always been directed towards his virtue than towards his appearance, and as such, he treats his shell with much less respect and care than most of his acquaintances. His dark, brown skin is merely armor to him, and such is evident; scars that are forever etched into his skin are present, a gruesome mosaic of agony. His countenance is monotone, and his features, brown eyes, slightly larger than average nose and slender lips, and defined in a way that liken him to a statue of heroes, albeit eroded by time and precipitation. His way of life has led to him to bear an incredibly toned body (which, coupled with his immense height, grants him the appearance of a human giant) and a difficult upbringing is further evident in calluses upon his every limb.
It can then be predicted that he is not one for fancy attire, preferring practicality over regality; he wears drab colors, and what he chooses to wear is entirely bred out of necessity – whether it is cold, or hot, and other basic factors.
Child remembers the war. It is the same war that took his family, took his friends and took his life, and then further cursed him by allowing his soul to remain. By all standards, Abishai should not be alive – by it is a mixture of luck and tenacity that has allowed him to remain so. Near the dimming of the war, and before the Guilds rebuilt Elinia, there was unrest – and unrest was a perfect breeding ground for criminals and scum; slavers, in Abishai's context. A mere teenager, the Child was made to partake in hard labor, jobs suited to those heartier than him, and torture for anyone else. He was meant to be a temporary tool – but against all odds, he somehow survived malnutrition, intensive labor and mistreatments that very narrowly crossed into the realm of lethal.
But still, he survived. Eventually, the slaving operation was quelled by a group of wandering vigilantes, whom Abishai will always remember as the 'Eagles', for reasons that delve into the childhood stories of heroism he had heard in hard times. This same group of heroes took the boy in, and brought them back to their Guild.
Then, he was told he bore a gift. After years of living with the curse of tragedy, he was finally told that had been blessed.
And like the Eagles that had freed the Child with their wings, Abishai became a vigilante of his own; bringing to justice the minority who, in the absence of morals, had decided to feed off others within society. Abishai was finally able to soar.
Gift: The Child's ability is simply the ability to feel emotion, which he refers to as 'The Understanding' and let it augment him, depending on what the emotion is. For example, the fear of his enemies, as well as the confidence of his compatriots, allows him a clearer state of mind, and far more impressive physical capabilities. This also has an alternate effect; he is able to pinpoint said emotion, allowing him to feel for his acquaintances on a higher level of understanding – and with research even be able to vaguely delve into the cause of their feelings.
Weapon(s): Abishai is simplistic in terms of weaponry – he bears a single blunt staff. This staff is composed out of rattan wood, drenched in oil to create a chemical reaction which blesses the weapon with otherworldly resilience (with the trademark that is quite flammable). The reasoning behind his choice of weaponry is simple – it allows him to protect, but also means that he does necessarily need to kill to do so. Also of note are the numerous engravings upon his staff, there are various phrases upon there, with various degrees of subject matter – he often engraves thanks to the vigilantes who save him, words of wisdom, and inspirational messages that he glances at to give him strength.
Personality: Abishai is quite simply said a good man. He cares for his compatriots, he lives to help and protect others, perhaps out of a need developed from the fact that his own family has passed away before he could help them. Sensitivity is a field he is well-born in, and his ability to emotionally aid one rivals, and outstrips, his ability to physically protect someone – and he brings it upon himself as a duty to help all he can; it is the only way he has ever known.
However, there is another side to this - Abishai does not take his own failure well, and although he is somehow a master of emotions given his ability and experience, he has a hard time, after all these years, containing his own. Regardless, Abishai is a man who has already conquered numerous hardships put in his path, and as such, is a beacon of wisdom to many.
Name: Blair Desmond (Aeola)
Appearance: Blair has wavy dark chestnut hair, that goes below her shoulders. In the light, you can see a reddish shade in her hair. She has mysterious hazel eyes, that often gets compliments on. She has fairly pale skin, which is very soft and flawless at the touch. Although nothing is ever perfect. She has a scar just above the wrist, which she often tries to hide with a bracelet. Blair is often seen wearing either fine dresses, or dresses of battle. She always has a cloak to match. Which gold clasps together is the shape of her family emblem, which is embellished in the circular golden clasps.
History: Born into the privileged life of nobility. Her father a lord, her mother descended of a proud lording family. Her family has its secrets. Scandals, lies, wealth, nothing is ever perfect. Blair tends to try and not act like them. The scar she bares, carries a secret, she has told only her father. Her family is desperately trying to marry their daughter off. Her mother's attitude is not caring on who she marries as long as they are from noble blood. Her father though, tends to see what Blair wants. A true love. He protects her from a certain someone. But her mothers tries for that someone to marry her. Blair is in hopes of finding someone she wants to marry.
Gift: Ability to copy another's Gift, and use it to her own manipulation and weapon.
Weapon(s): Short sliver dagger infused with dark magic, bow and arrows.
Personality: Blair has an interesting personality. She can be a bit of a bitch at times. But she has a true caring and nice demeanor to her as well. She doesn't like being walked over, and has this thing about not being able to hide anything from her. Although she is a true friend. But she can be very competitive and fierce on a battlefield. She is smart, and uses her senses well.
Name:Unger Haart (Lifesapper)
Appearance: Unger dresses very plainly, wearing plain brown shorts and a simple white buttoned shirt. His hair is a constant mess of medium-length brown hairs, all combining to give his head the resemblance of a mop. His eyes are a pale blue, and under dim light it appears that they possess no colour at all.
History: Unger was born in Talaren to a simple carpenter and his wide, life was simple for him. He was labelled with his gift like everybody else and held dreams of becoming a leader of a great guild. Soon he began teleporting everywhere, to his school and home, in and out of class. He was a menace and nobody could stop him, eventually someone from the Magister's Order came and threatened to take him away if he did not stop his unruly behaviour.
He did stop in the end, realising the pain and discomfort it would cause him and his family. Yet he had attracted the attention of a certain individual, Nix Procer. Unger continued his education but began to sort out books of pictures and maps of Elinia. For his gift was limited, he could not teleport to anywhere that he had not seen, thus he studied paintings and sketches relentlessly, gaining more and more power with each piece he acquired.
When he turned 16 he was approached by an Era member and was asked to join, he did so eagerly, ready to rise the ranks and earn himself fame.
Gift: Unger has the ability to teleport (Or skip as he calls it) anywhere he has seen, whether it be through painting or real experience. The shorter the actual distance of the skip the less energy it requires from Unger.
Weapon(s): Ignius: Unger's primary weapon, a longbow of around two and a half feet in length made of yew. It has a huge range, enabling Unger to shoot over one hundred metres with accuracy. He uses this weapon in combination with his gift, skipping around while unleashing arrows from multiple locations.
Hydracius: A hunters knife nearing two feet in length, it has both edges sharpened and is only used when Unger has depleted his arrow supply.
Personality: Will reveal during the RP.
Name: Reona Mauverneen (Broken Alleluia)
Appearance: At best, Reona can be described as a "homely" girl. She is unremarkable, standing a slight five feet with an awkward build – her hips a bit too broad, unable to compliment a chest which is a bit too flat. Her skin is sallow from a lack of outside exposure, scarred around her left shoulder and back from a childhood accident involving a runaway horse-cart and a barrel of nails. Her face is slim and equally plain-featured, with too-wide blue eyes, a small nose, and an upper lip out of balance with her lower one. Purple stains beneath her eyes hint at a chronic insomnia. Only her hair offers any semblance of beauty – it is long and thick with curls, colored like the inside of a peach. She keeps it tied back at the nape of her neck, a brown handkerchief wound through the flyaway bangs. She wears the plain and unappealing garbs of a peasant maid – a patched blue petticoat beneath a nondescript brown dress, edged on the bottom hem and neckline with a small faded ruffle. The sleeves of the dress cover the length of her arms, button at the wrist with a tattered ruffle hem. This attire is dominated by a baggy shawl cinching her waist, riddled with pockets and stained from years of use. Reona's only eye-catching garb is her boots – tanned leather creations, common except for the intricate bead work, made to resemble creeping vines. Small pearly flowers add to the design, detailed down to petite ladybugs and dewdrops on the leaves. Her dress is long enough to hide them, and when one does catch sight of the skillful creation, she says nothing as to where she got them.
History: Born the sole daughter of a local pub owner in the slums of Raesil, Reona grew up with little worldly possessions, accustomed to hard work; whether it was running dishes back to the kitchen or as a pot-maid in her older years. To her father, her lackluster appearance was a source of distress, for no one would pay a decent dowry for a plain-of-face kitchen girl. Her mother countered this with a fierce love, doing her best to shield her daughter from the scorn of the world. All was lastingly normal, until at the age of seven; Reona began to have strange dreams – ones where she would see disjointed faces, sometimes of strangers and sometimes of familiar people, connected with blurry actions. They were not dark dreams by any definition, just otherworldly in their realness. The successful birth of a baby, the construction of a house, or a marriage proposal. In her young age she thought nothing of them, dismissing them without much thought until the summer of her twelfth year, when she dreamt she stood on the edge of a mountain, watching the world vanish. She awoke from this image drenched in sweat, and since then her dreams have been more like nightmares. Reona grew to fear sleeping, and would go to great lengths to keep awake, be it mindless undertakings such as sewing or bead work, or more macabre methods of keeping her mind from the reach of her vision-dreams. It came to head three years later, when she dreamt her father's friend and business partner was murdered in the streets. He was found dead the next day, the image a near perfect copy of what she had seen. The sight sent Reona into a hysterical fit, convinced that she had caused him to die. Her father, thinking her to be ill in the mind, arranged for Reona and her mother to move far out into the countryside, to a small village named Aory, both to protect his reputation, and also in thinking the peace and quiet of country living might 'cure' his daughter. For a while, it seemed as though it was working – Reona could sleep again. The visions had not ended, not in the least, but they came fewer and father between, though when they occurred they were as foreboding and rattling as ever. Nonetheless, she and her mother managed to carve a relatively peaceful life as local seamstresses- though their peace would be short-lived. Reona's life changed again one week ago – when Reona had her strangest dream of all. A woman with midnight hair, galloping swiftly down a road atop a white horse, and then the face of a handsome man with a wry smile. There was movement, and dissolving earth, and knives, and dozens of other faces all blurred together, unified under a common cause. The dream ended suddenly, with the picture of a door, upon which blazed a name – Rith Soromer. Reona awoke soundlessly, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. There was an unfamiliar and devastating pull in her core, a cosmic heralding. She knew nothing but that she must leave Aory and the peace it brought, and venture again into the cities. She had to find Rith Soromer.
Gift: Foresight – Reona, in case you have not gathered, glimpses into the future. Unlike most Gifts, Reona has no control over her precognition. It occurs of its own will, almost always while she sleeps. She cannot change the future that she sees, and sometimes the outcome she sees changes as the resolve of those involved changes. Afraid to approach anyone about her 'unique talent', Reona has been able to discern little about her Gift, as from that it seems to be connected to population. A strong presence of people (thus, a strong collection of fates and consciousness) leads to stronger and more frequent visions. Ultimately, it is a dizzying and haunting process, one which Reona fears and abhors.
Weapon(s): A dagger, hidden in the folds of her shawl, is her only weapon, and her stomach rolls unpleasantly at the thought of using it.
Personality: Reona is withdrawn and mousy, doing her daily chores with a silent resolve. She was never a sociable child – especially following her accident and the arrival of the visions. Sometimes, she could be charmed into smiling, and rarely, laughter. Now she is downright introverted. She prefers to be away from people and takes great comfort in soothing tasks which require little or no help from others. Her mother is her sole love, and her best friend. Reona's heart wrenches at the thought of anything harming her. There is a streak of kindness in Reona that her hardships have not marred, and there are times when this benevolence shines through, in anonymous acts of charity, or small presents which make their way into the hands of the village children.
Name: Kaelan Bree (Kay-lun Br-ee) (Zhan Dathka)
Appearance: Kaelan stands at five feet and six inches on a good day. An ebony crown of hair cascades down her back just past her shoulders. Though usually kept back in a neat tail, she always keeps one stray lock of bangs forward, shrouding her left eye, both of which are a deep emerald green, and giving her an exotic and enigmatic air. Her slender frame is often draped in loose fitting robes, often bright colors such as reds and oranges, bellying her beautiful figure and seductive curves. When in battle, Kaelan sheds her robes to display her tight red dress slit up both legs so as not to restrict her movement. The picture of an eye engulfed in fire can be seen on her dress top, hinting some at her abilities.
History: At a young age, Kaelan was accepted into the Magister's Order in Aydurin when the child began playing with fire to a further extent than most children. It became known that the girl could control the fire and make it do almost everything her child's mind wanted, though the skill was raw. After her acceptance, she began studying under some of the most powerful of teachers, easily amazing them with her prowess. After years of training, however, Kaelan began to become bored with where she was and resorted to playing pranks on higher members of the Order; nearly getting suspended with one particular trick involving the flames on a group of candles morphing into writing snakes to terrorize the poor victim within the chamber. After Deviant began to exert its pressure on the Order, Kaelan left without warning, preferring to pursue her training on her own.
Gift: Adept Manipulation of Fire (vague, yes, but I will reveal further extent of her abilities as the RP progresses )
Weapon(s): Kaelan carries a simple ashes staff inscribed with silver with the head cut into the shape of a waning moon. Though non-magical of itself, she can use the staff as a conduit for her power, allowing her to project attacks with greater accuracy.
Personality: Quirky and possessing fine spirits, Kaelan is a great companion to have on any journey. However, her attitude often leads to a wide variety of pranks pulled on an offender if she feels inclined to do so. She is also known to be quite a flirt, using her beauty an tongue to coax even the strongest willed. She's a happy-go-lucky girl eager to make friends and eager to cause trouble.
Name: Stephen Arson (IceWolfklaske)
Age: 19 years old. Since the Stone Age.
Gender: Male. Although I was tempted to go for androgynous.
Appearance: Slightly curly blondish brown hair that reaches to his neck, 160 cm tall (that's about 5 foot and say four inches) dependable face, blue eyes, slightly squarish frame, likes wearing greens and browns, has comfy, practical boots and a backpack. And a stick that is taller than he is.
He broke his leg once, and that healed wrong, so he walks funny when not leaning on his stick.
History: Came out of a village that is somewhat behind on events thanks to the lack of merchants and other links to civilisation that refuse to go past their neighbouring village on the other side of the woods, because of the high amount of robberies in the forest. The people in his village would never do such a thing as stealing from someone... that is from one of the villages, that is. Everyone else is free game.
When they want to trade, they do that on market day in the other village.
He grew up happily, and has recently set out to become rich so he can buy a home and maybe a cow and some goats so he can ask his childhood friend to marry him without having to worry that her blacksmith father might trow him out for being freeloading scum.
Using his Gift to copy money doesn't work. The coins turn out too light.
Gift: He can copy-summon any inanimate object that he has touched. The time it takes to do this varies depending on the size, complexity and material of the object, but the time it takes halves every time he summons another copy once he gets going. The minimal amount of time it takes is slightly more than one second. The longest time he spend on it is about one minute. He never copy-summoned anything larger than a barrel. Making a copy near the original weakens the original somewhat.
Personality: Whatever I say it is. Somewhat modest, fun-loving, and with a weird view on flirting.
Weapons: A stick, with metal on the ends, that is also used for walking.
Mod Edit: Jan 18, 09 by Ishilar
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Nov 09, 08 at 10:00pm ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
"Excuse me, where might I find the guild hall of Era?"
Rith Soromer blinked at the woman in front of him. She sat comfortably on a snow-white horse in skirts divided for riding. The hood of her forest green cloak covered most of her face and a good amount of the woman's other features as well, but by her voice, Rith judged she was young, perhaps only a little older than himself.
Rith smiled, "And what would a woman such as yourself want with Era?"
"I have great need of Era's aid and wish to speak to Nix Procer."
"Yeah, that's what they all say to bed Nix."
"I have no time to exchange banter with you. Can you take me to Era or not?" the woman demanded, with a hint of warning in her tone.
Rith's eyes narrowed. The woman was serious, "Follow me."
The crowded streets of Talaren parted for Rith and the mysterious woman. Some called out greetings to Rith which he returned with a grin and often a a quick jest. He was well-known in Talaren, less for his recent work in Era, but rather all of the hard work he had done before joining Era. Rith had been Talaren's fix-it man, always doing whatever needed done with an amicable persona and a quick wit to spare for his customers while he worked. Seldom was Rith serious, but if there was ever a time when he was, it was guild work.
"So," Rith intoned, "what do you need of Era?"
"I will speak only to Nix Procer."
"What is your Gift?"
"I will speak only to Nix Procer."
Rith stopped and turned back toward the woman, "Well then you aren't going anywhere near Nix. The order comes from the man himself. No one is allowed to see him unless the person's Gift is known and has been seen in action by one guild member. I happen to be the most active and well-known member in Era there is."
"..." the woman hesitated before answering, "I am Aila Tranelle, come from Ceres. My Gift..." again, she hesitated, "is difficult to put into words and I dare not show it in public."
Rith grinned cheerily, seeming to ignore Aila's last sentence, "Ah, finally! A name to attach to a beautiful face."
Aila jolted in her horse and spluttered, "You can see my face!?"
"No," Rith chuckled, "But I can now." Aila's hood had fallen back and revealed a young woman's face, as Rith had guessed, with once-gentle blue eyes that had been hardened by harsh times that glared at his amusement. Aila angrily threw her hood over her long, raven hair, "You great fool!"
"Only on Tuesdays, madam," Rith retorted jocularly.
"It was a joke. Come on, we're almost there."
Rith turned down an alleyway and Aila followed after another pause. The hustle and bustle of Talaren died to a low rumble as Rith led Aila further away from the town center. The further they went, the more reluctant Aila was to follow until she finally stopped and turned around, not looking back at Rith as she spoke, "I thank you for your help, but I believe I would be better off looking for Era myself." When no response came, Aila turned and found Rith gone.
Her pulse quickened and her head whipped back in time to see two black-cloaked men with the sword and thorn insignia of Deviant sewn into cloth approaching her. Her heart jumped into her throat.
"No..." She was so close and she had picked then to fall into a trap. Curse Rith! She had thought she would be safe once she reached Talaren and the one man she chose to ask for directions turned out to be Deviant!
Aila's mind raced. Her Gift couldn't help her. Well, not much. She fingered the dagger inside her cloak, praying to the Great Mother that if she should fail, that she could at least manage to kill one of the members.
"Aila Tranelle...it's been a long time," one of the Deviant members chuckled darkly.
"Too long," the other intoned.
"I have no business with Deviant," Aila responded stonily.
"On the contrary, it's we who have business with you."
"The Magister's Order has been in disarray without you there, but we aren't here to take you back to the Order. Deviant has need of your Gift for different purposes."
"I would rather eat vomit and lie with swine than aid Deviant," Aila retorted. She loosed the dagger from its sheath as subtly as she could. It would be difficult to get close enough to either of them. She was still on her horse and neither of the men were stupid enough to try to physically force her off. No; they would use their Gifts and she would be helpless. She said another prayer to the Great Mother.
The two men snickered, "That can be arranged."
"I think not." The two Deviant member's convulsed and let out startled gasps before falling forward.
Aila stood rooted to the spot in numb shock. Two daggers stuck out of the backs of the two Deviants, but there was no one around.
"Deviants, huh? You really do need Nix's help." Aila jumped at Rith's bemused tone. The man himself appeared right before her eyes, just in front of the fallen Deviants' bodies. Rith collected his daggers and wiped them on the black cloak of one of the members, "You're lucky they weren't more powerful members. These two are probably the lowest-ranked of the lower class in Deviant. So if Deviant sent these two after you, then I would guess your Gift isn't very useful in battle, is it?" Rith's sharp hazel eyes were focused on her and all Aila could do was manage a nod.
"I thought so. I must apologize; they were following you when you came into Talaren, so I led you here to confront them away from watching eyes. I was waiting to see if you would use your Gift to fend them off. When it became clear you weren't, I acted then. I originally intended to find out what your Gift was, but I learned some much more interesting information instead. A member of the Order, huh?"
"An ex-member, rather," Aila responded stiffly. She was getting over her shock and panic now and was moving toward anger. She should have known Rith was still there, but he had hidden behind the mana weaves of the two Deviants.
Rith nodded, "I truly am sorry, Aila. I really will take you to Era now."
Aila hesitated again. True, Rith had just saved her, but he had also brought her into the danger in the first place.
"Well? Come on if you're coming."
Aila relented and followed Rith out of the alley, not noticing the other man that appeared and dragged the bodies of the two Deviant members out of the street.
The second place Rith led Aila to was a building set across the street from one of Talaren's two inns, the Manaspring Inn. While the inn was magnificent for a relatively average-sized town like Talaren, the building across from it suited Talaren. It was of a simple wooden craft with no ornate carvings or remarkable shapes. A simple sign was displayed over the roof read "Era Guild Headquarters" and the double doors leading inside were just as unremarkable. A stable boy took Aila's horse and Rith led her inside.
The interior of Era's headquarters were as unremarkable as the outside. In the opening room sat a woman bent over a stack of papers at a mahogany desk. She looked up only to nod at Rith before returning to her work.
"Grading school papers or sifting through requests, Laraena?"
"Requests today, Rith. School papers tomorrow. And who's the lady you've caught this time? A new guild member?"
"No. A customer."
After the short exchange, Rith moved on to the main hall while explaining to Aila, "That's Laraena, our secretary. One of the few people in Talaren who can read and write well. She used to teach around here, but when Era was founded..." Rith trailed off. The main hall led to a stair case at the far end of the building and rooms branched off either side of the hall. The rooms inside were spacious, meant to accommodate many guild members, but they were empty; both of life and of furnishings. Rith walked past all of them, Aila following behind.
Nailed to a wall by the staircase was a roster of guild members. Nix Procer was written in elaborate script on the first line and a few spaces below that was Rith Soromer's own scrawl.
The second floor of Era was much more elaborate. So much so that Aila let out a tiny gasp at the contrast. The rooms on the upper floor were gilded with the names of their occupants. The inside of the rooms were decorated with ornate paintings and rugs, and were furnished with large, comfortable beds, well-polished desks and most rooms held entire shelves of books.
Rith chuckled at Aila's awe. "Our upper echelons receive much better accommodations than the non-existent lower ranking members. I suppose once Era grows a bit, we'll probably have to sell some of this stuff to support the ranks, but for now...well, it looks nice. Nix's room is at the very end."
Two guild members stood guard in front of Nix's room and Rith nodded to each of them, "Hey, Hana, Unger. Enjoying guard duty?"
"Not especially," the young boy responded. Aila tried not to stare. He was so young to be in a guild.
Rith turned his hazel stare to her, "Wait out here and I'll check and see if Nix is busy."
The two guards nodded at Rith and he passed through the door without allowing Aila so much as a glance inside.
Aila waited for what seemed an eternity before Rith returned and beckoned her inside. Hana and Unger exchanged glances that made Aila raise an eyebrow. Apparently, a direct meeting with Nix was unprecedented.
Aila took a deep breath and walked into the room of the head of Era. Rith shut the door behind her.
Nix Procer sat behind an ornate desk with his hands folded in front of his face. Hard, blue eyes surveyed Aila as she stepped into the room. In one corner stood another man with a light tan and rusty-red hair.
"So," Nix's voice was deep and not at all light and carefree like Rith's, "a magister who fled the Order when Deviant claimed control. You were followed here by five Deviant members, all of which are dead now."
Aila frowned, remembering only the two in the alley, but then she saw the tiny splotches of blood on the other man's clothing. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. For all of her misgivings based around Rith's attitude and the irresponsibility with the guild's finances, beneath it all, Era was not to be underestimated. Rith didn't seem surprised to hear about five Deviants. Had he known all along?
Aila shook herself and gave a small curtsy, "Nix Procer. It is an honor to meet with you and I thank you for seeing me on such short notice."
"Think nothing of it. What does a former magister want with Era?"
Aila again hesitated and glanced at Rith and the other man. Nix followed her gaze and spoke, "Speak freely. These two are my most trusted."
Again caught off guard by Nix's bluntness, Aila stumbled over her words before she could speak clearly, "I would like Era to provide an escort for me to the Edge of the World."
"For what reason?"
"Research. Ever since news got back about the erosion, no one except key members of the Order have been allowed to the Edge, and those members are backed by Deviant. Whatever they're finding isn't enough. I can help. I can do better than them and my research won't be pulled along on strings by Deviant."
"How do you intend to go about this?"
My Gift," Aila explained, "I can see the Mana Flow."
Rith, Nix, and the third man all exchanged glances. A person who could actually see mana...
"Elaborate," Nix ordered.
"Well, it's just like it sounds. I can see the unique mana weaves around any living thing. People, rocks, trees, birds...anything. By the length of the weave, I can tell how long a person or creature will live. By the pattern of the weave, I can discern any given person's Gift. Yours, for example, is telepathy and Rith's is invisibility and that other man can influence emotions," Aila remembered the sudden feeling of comfort when Rith had asked her to come with him to Era after killing the Deviant members. Could that have been that man in the corner? She continued, hoarding the thought away for another time, "If I can see what is wrong with the mana at the edge, maybe I can find a way to fix it!"
Nix leaned back and exhaled, "That explains why Deviant is after you."
Silence hung in the air for a moment before Aila asked, "Will you help me?"
Nix stared at her for the longest time. It made Aila uncomfortable. Her heart was pounding again in anxiety. Finally, the man nodded, "I will begin making the necessary arrangements. I will have your escort prepared in three days at the latest. In the meantime, you will remain here at the guild under our protection. If you wish to wander the streets, an escort will be arranged. It is too dangerous for you to be out there alone, even here in Talaren where Deviant's hold is the weakest."
Relief flooded Aila as tears began to trickle down her face. So much worry and so much doubt about Era...all gone.
"Thank you...thank you so much!"
Nix smiled, "Think nothing of it, my dear lady. After such a long journey, I'm sure you must be tired. Talk to Hana outside the door. She'll show you to your room."
Aila nodded and, still brimming with happiness, curtsied once more and left the room.
Rith looked at Nix once Aila had gone, "Well? What do you think, Daemar?"
"I think it's too dangerous for you to go yourself, Nix," Daemar responded.
"We're still within earshot. It's still Rith for now," Rith warned him.
"Forgive me," Daemar bowed his head. Ever since founding Era and changing his name to Nix Procer, Rith had chosen his best and most trusted friend Daemar to play the face of Nix Procer for the other guild members. Daemar and the third man, Karnell, were the only two members of the guild who knew that Rith was actually Nix.
Karnell was a special case. He had approached Era two months ago and asked to join. Rith had taken him to Daemar and Rith, as he always did when an interview took place, hid himself with his Gift to watch Karnell's expression and speech. Daemar was agreeing with Karnell too often and Rith had become suspicious of a Gift at work. Afterward, Rith had summoned Karnell to him and spoke to him as the true Nix Procer, while remaining hidden by his Gift. Rith's Gift hid him not only from sight, but from the effects of other Gifts, so naturally, Rith was able to resist Karnell's unnatural charm. Because of that, Karnell unveiled what he had hidden from Daemar. Rith had since then taken precaution around Karnell, but nonetheless had told Karnell about the true face of Nix.
"And you, Karnell? What's your opinion on this mission?" Rith asked as he unfolded a map of Elinia.
"You are the head of Era. When the head is decapitated, the body cannot fight. If we lose you, Era will be thrown into disarray. However, it's necessary for us to learn more about Deviant's activities at the Edge and your Gift will certainly be of aid there."
Rith nodded, "I am well-aware of the risks. If I should not return, I have made the necessary arrangements. Nix, what members are available for missions?"
"Only a small handful. Most others have already signed on to other contracts. Hana and Unger are available among others."
Rith turned to Karnell, "What about you?"
"Do you have to ask? Of course I'll be accompanying you," Karnell responded.
"If Karnell accompanies me and I bring Hana and Unger, who does that leave here?" Rith asked Daemar.
"About fifteen others plus whomever returns from their missions in the time you're gone. I would say we'd have around twenty-five members in all here in about ten days."
"Suspend all out of town activities and missions once all guild members return. Only our elite are allowed to leave Talaren, and even then, they are not to go anywhere near Barzheim or Aydurin."
"Are you sure that's wise? Our fundings could run low if we suspend all activity," Karnell put in.
"Sell the paintings and rugs. We don't need them anyway," Rith responded with a shrug.
"Our group will have to be small if we're to slip past Deviant. I would say no more than five guild members. That will make six in the party overall."
"Karnell and you make two," Daemar spoke, "I will call in Hana and Unger later to see if they want to go and then you will have to choose the remaining member from the roster."
"Agreed," Rith spoke, now bent over the map, "It will be wisest to avoid the major cities. If we strike South, we'll come across a chain of tiny villages south east of Delvina. We can stock our supplies there before we head into the Reaches. Karnell, make the necessary withdrawals from the funds. Take whatever you think we'll need."
Karnell nodded and exited through a hidden side door in the room.
Rith spoke, "There's no telling how long this will take. Keep me posted on Deviant's activities with your Gift."
"Fine," Daemar responded, "But you keep me posted about your progress. I'll send more members as needed."
"No way," Rith retorted, "You worry too much. The minute I mention that someone sneezed at me in a rude fashion, you'll send the entire guild on a man-hunt."
Daemar rolled his eyes, "Go on if you're going. I can't stop you."
"I wouldn't put it past you to try," Rith muttered as he too left the room.
OOC: All character sheets that I have received are up in the list. Check it over, make sure I didn't forget anything, etc. And with that said, let's get started! >=D
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|Wyvern Knight Zero||
Nov 10, 08 at 1:57am ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
For every human being that served to further society upon Elinia, there were a lesser number that instead served as a drain to it. They were does who, while they caused no particular harm, preferred to drink their lives away – squandering their gift, wasting their life, and dishonoring their name. And there were also those who served a more nefarious cause – those who, having been given a remarkable talent of their own, decided to take advantage of it in dishonorable manners. The thieves, con artists, and the occasional murderer – they were not just a product of the stories of old, simply a foil to the ultimate protagonist; they existed.
Of course, so did the man that had to stop them.
"You do not wish to pickpocket that man, young sir. For two crucial reasons," That man, dark-skinned and imposing, looked upon the lesser, slender man – who had a pale complexion resembling a rat's, and an impudent sneer, "One, I can tell he is not in a good mood today and two, because I can see you. You and your intent."
The less remarkable of the two, the troublemaker before the vigilante, was shocked in his tracks; gifts had always made his job harder, but this man
"Curiosity, friend? I suppose that means you're surprised I knew what you were up to," The dark man gave a smile, strangely friendly given the circumstances, "These are the gifts we are born with, and I utilize them for the better of society. As should you and your friends."
"Leave the poor child alone, please. Good day to you."
"Good day to you."
"To you as well, Abishai." The balding man was kindred, with a jovial, rosy face and a plump build that implied a comfortable life – a legit one, however. "What would you be having today?"
Abishai, 'Child' as some knew him, gave a genuine smile that indicated an intimacy that he extended to all he met in his days, "Simply some water will do, good friend."
"Alright then, Abishai, anything for ya."
And Abishai smiled, setting his gargantuan staff upon his lap, and he looked with his calm eyes upon the people that walked by, extending those who saw him a kind nod – some returned the expression, while some were left uncomfortable and even slightly apprehensive. But no matter, Abishai was a good man – this was the only way he knew.
(OOC: Basically, I'm trying to open myself up for some character interaction. Any takers? Not a big post, but hey, enough to get some action going.)
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Nov 10, 08 at 4:21am ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
Out in the desolate Southern Reaches few people can survive on their own as the wildlife and the environment weeds out those who cannot adapt to it. Most people in the area are usually raiders or slavers looking for prey. That and the unstable dust storms that sweep the region make shelter out in the open suicide. The temperatures drop down to freezing during the night while in the daytime it would skyrocket, and with little to no cover from the heat. It was without a doubt some of the harshest places in Elinia, almost incapable of supporting life, and it was getting harsher every year, driving the few remaining settlers out of the area toward the cities.
One such family tried to take the risk to make it to civilization.
Thier future seemed bright when they left their village to move to Talaren, some of their relatives had a place picked out and work was available. For the mother and father it seemed a good place to raise their four children, three girls and one boy, all ranging from the eldest son of fifteen to the youngest daughter of eight. Safety was rapidly becoming rare out in the Wastes as brigands became more bold, striking isolated villages around the major city for plunder and loot.
Just a day out of Talaren they where ambushed by slavers and packed like cattle into cages at their camp. It was a bleak prospect, forced into a labor camp for one of the guild research teams that operated the area. It was only a matter of time until they where sent off to such death camps. There was only one guard watching over them as the others went into town to find a buyer, but with the cage under lock and key it may as well been twenty guards. Despair was clear on every face.
It was then that the guard next to the cage suddenly fell to the ground with a dull thud, a bolt through his head. A young man leapt out from behind some rocks and rushed toward the fallen guard, prompting the father to get up and eye the stranger warily. The man stood a few inches taller than him and was of well-built stature, he wore a ragged tan outfit that seemed to be patch-worked together. His face was covered by a red handkerchief to block out the dust from the wind.
The man quickly grabbed the keys and quickly unlocked the cage "I reckon you should circle Talaren if you want to avoid these slavers." The father was too stunned to speak as the stranger tossed the keys to him and merely asked "What if they look for us?" The stranger said to him while looking over his shoulder. "Check in with the guild called Era, I hear they help out the little men like us." The father then said with fortitude in his voice "What is your name sir? Does the Guild of Era know you?" The stranger took off the handkerchief, showing a tanned face with strong young male features.
Clear blue eyes seemed to look through the father "Tell Era that the road South ain't safe. If they ask who said it tell em that a friendly passerby named Kush passed the word along." With that the one known as Kush disappeared into the shifting sands of the Wastes. It would be the last place you would expect to find an honest man ... but for one lucky family of Wastelanders that was just what they got.
Hope that's a good intro for me
Only the dead have seen the end of war - Plato
Every conflict has a peace at the end, every peace has a war coming - Kush
When the first bullet goes by your head, politics and all that other shit goes right out the window - Hoot
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Nov 10, 08 at 5:25am ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
OCC: I sometimes have the tendency to change point of views while writing. So struggle with me XD, I am sorry. This post doesn't describe her gift as much though. My next post will for sure. Sorry!
Yet another day it was at the rich manor one would called "home." Or Blair has yet to actually call it home in sometime. As always, the suitors came. No I mean, possible suitors were coming. One would describe these men of little talent. They would leave their swordplay up to their guards, and run like sissies. As Blair liked to call them. They all came from different parents; rich, stuck-up, assholes (at least most), or were very uncomfortable to be around. They came in a variety of ages, looks, and odd personalities. There was one particular man that loved to stick around.
His name was Lord Warren Vanderbilt. Warren was a man in his mid thirties. He has light brown hair that was already starting to Grey. His face was scruffy, and thin. He bore a mustache, and shadows on growing in a beard around his cheeks and chin. He was fairly tall, and of thin built. He had dark brown eyes, that didn't match his skull like face. Most women, well women in their thirties, would think he is very handsome. Blair on the other hand hated him.
He acted like an asshole, who thought he knew it all, he has a very cold and gross sense of humor, and oddly enough, he had fighting ability. His ability though was cold, and revenge like. He loved to fight, and try to kill. He always told her that nothing would give him that adrenaline rush. Unless it was the never possibility of him sleeping with her. Countless times Warren, asked to marry Blair, Blair always refused. Which angered her mother, just a little. Blair's father though Warren was an okay person, but did not mind him much. One of Warren's favorite activities was to bother Blair and stalk her.
Warren of course was at the manor, looking for her. Blair had taken her guard and told him to hide her for him. Derick, her trusted guard always favored Blair. He did what she wanted, protected her, and was a friend to her. He would do anything for her, he loved her. He was a most handsome young man as well. Just about twenty-five, he was very young for a royal guard to a lording family. He had a passion when he fought, with clever skill. He believed that there was a evil man for every good man to defeat. He was an intelligent man, very clever in politics and economics. Somewhat romance stricken, but it was hidden. It drove Blair crazy but she loved it. If she could just love him. Whenever he saw Blair sad, he would try and make her happy again.
Derick had brownish black, thick but short hair. It was kept nicely for the most part. But it had a tendency to get messy. Not messy in the bad way, but it the way it seemed intentional. It was perfect for him, Blair thought it was sexy. His eyes were a dark brown, looking at them always made Blair blush, on the inside though. His eyes told her a lot about him; he liked to joke when necessary, he took his job seriously, had goals for himself, he had passion, and he was very good at hiding his emotions. But his eyes when talking to her, listening to her were so pleading. As if he found something he was searching for, and begged for it to come to him. Deep down Blair knew what it was, her. Yet it was too deep for her to recognize it fully. They flirted on and off, always went unseen. Derick has been the perfect gentlemen Blair wanted, she knew it, but yet Blair never actually thought much on it. Face it Blair, you'll fall in love him.
"Is there a reason why you can't use that power of yours to ward the creep off?" Derick asked Blair as they were out in a village area, staying away from her father's rich manor, and from Warren. Blair looked at Derick, and gave him a black stare "Uhhh I am not sure. But I rather do good, with it I think." Blair replied.
"And this is not a good deed?" Derick asked dumbfounded. Blair laughed sarcastically. "My mother would throw a fit if he was no longer around." Derick frowned in sympathy. "Well no matter. He'll think twice on what he does when I am with you. " Derick said with a flirty smile. Blair blushed, only for a second. "Thank you. Where shall we go?" She asked him, hopefully. "How about to the spot?" Blair smiled "Sounds great." And they were off.
Wouldn't you love to love her?
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|Wolf of Light||
Nov 10, 08 at 10:51pm ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
Night fell, as it tended to.
Gaunt had always wondered about that. Why was it that dawn broke, or the sun rose, but all Night got to do was fall? It had seemed unfair to him.
But then, Night was the most subtle thing of all. It did not simply rise, or shine, as did the sun. No, rather it crept in silently, displacing light and heat and comfort in one fell swoop. It robbed people of vision. It disorientated them. And none could deny- on some primal subconscious plane of their mind, everyone feared the darkness.
Gaunt perched above the tavern walls, laughing softly to himself as a horde of raucous drunkards where hauled out by the gargantuan bouncer employed by the innkeeper. The lads were probably harmless, and were just seeking to prolong their fun. They'd obviously passed well over the tipsy line, but they meant well.
The gentleman that Gaunt was watching, however, was completely the opposite of the drunkards. For one, he was not inebriated in anyway. He was completely sober.
Another point was that he was no commoner out to escape the tedium of his life by overloading his liver.
and the third difference was that he was not harmless. That particular man was anything but harmless.
A few hours passed, the tavern truly quieting down. The tavern wenches who had plied their trade outside the inn dispersed. The man followed one.
Gaunt took after him, using the rooftops as a means of keeping up with him. The lady, at this stage, knew what was going to handle. She was praying, as Gaunt would have been in that situation, that he would take what he wanted and leave. Gaunt had to hand it to them- the hopes of whores were, at the very least, possible.
The man burst into a run, as did she. Inevitably, he caught up with her. There was no struggle- Gaunt saw the glint of a knife in the darkness.
The man pressed the knife to her neck and pushed her up against a wall in the dingy alleyway. He muttered something truly, abhorrently unpleasant to the wench.
Gaunt vaulted from the low rooftops, to a spot behind the pair. He drew Thorne and whistled softly. The man instantly wheeled about. Pushing the whore aside, he rushed his opponent, channeling energy through his dagger. Clearly, this man's gift was combat orientated.
Gaunt spun out of the blow's path, sending a sweeping kick to the man's shin. He buckled, cursing and snarling as Gaunt disarmed him.
"You nosy bastard, you. Poking your nose around like you own the place. I'll kill you, I swear it!" he hissed, spittle flying from his pockmarked maw.
Gaunt had little time for his rant. He plunged Thorne deep within the man's gullet, pulling it out and wiping the gore from it in one deft move.
The wench remained calm, but she spat on the man's corpse as she passed it. She approached the hooded Gaunt.
"Thank you stranger, for saving me. Perhaps I can assist you in some way?" she inquired in what he presumed was supposed to be an alluring tone, batting her eyelids as she spoke. Layering it on.
Gaunt said nothing. He kicked off a wall and returned to the rooftops. The wench just shrugged to herself. It was no skin off her nose.
Nut as she made for her hovel, she spied something gleaming in the moonlight. It was a silver thorn. Wrapping it gingerly in her hand, she headed for...home.
Gaunt watched her go, then surveyed the sky before him. Dawn was breaking, Night slipping away for another few hours, plotting its surprises. Gaunt, too, made his way home, slinking away as quickly as the shadows.
I firmly believe that when forced to talk to someone who has wronged you, one should sit down, breathe deeply, and calmly discuss the issue at hand to lull the bastard into a false of security before bludgeoning them viciously.
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|Tiger of Wu||
Nov 11, 08 at 1:02am ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
WKZ; I would take you up on that open offer but for the sake of her story I need to get Cura to Era. Apologies.
She knew her mission well. Never had she failed before and she didn't plan on doing so then. She wore the robe of one of the dead monks in spite of it being much too large and occasionally causing her to stumble. The dead monks had done nothing to her, true, but they had to be disposed of anyway. Some things were more important then life and, to Cura at least, this was one of them.
Unlike a lot of other missions getting out was the easy part; it was getting in that had to be done with stealth and cunning, otherwise she wouldn't get near to the target. She had to make the other monks believe she was one of them. So far, in spite of her short height, she had managed to do so. She walked with the others to the altar upon which they had chained a virgin from a nearby village. She screamed constantly, trying to break free as she struggled and squirmed in her shackles. In that Church-like building she was the only innocent one, yet she was the prisoner. Cura smirked at the irony underneath the shadow given by the hood.
Most of the cultists sat in the many rows of chairs, looking at the monks and the virgin with their hands high, chanting to their god... or gods... Cura didn't quite know... or care for that matter. She stood in the row of monks near the altar as they began to chant. She tried to deepen her voice and chant with them, the deepening being a total failure. She gave up trying to chant their chant and instead listed random things she had seen that morning as she falsely prayed to their god... or gods.
"Cat... loaf of bread, dirty rock... erm... white horse, chariot with man inside..." She continued, her voice luckily being drowned out by the others'. One monk stepped forward holding a ceremonial kris dagger to kill the innocent girl with. It was now or never. Eyes closed, the monk held up the blade as the others' chanting grew louder and faster until eventually it stopped. All eyes closed, the monk forced his hands down.
All that was heard was the scream of the sacrifice as she writhed in pain before falling limp, dead. The monks and crowd of cultists opened their eyes. Before them lay the virgin from the village but sticking from her chest was a crudely made, tribal hunters knife. They glared in confusion, soon after noticing the empty robe on the floor where Cura was standing and the open doors of their cultist chapel, dust kicked up from the teenager's running beyond them.
The girl smiled as she ran with practiced speed looking at the ceremonial, sacrificial dagger she had just stole from the cult. After finding a stable and taking a horse, Cura continued north to soon arrive at her destination. Talaren.
Her entrance to the city easy and uninterrupted, but she had no doubt that Era was watching the borders even if they weren't openly policing them. As she rode into the open markets Cura thought it wise to proceed on foot, the horse attracting more attention then she had wanted. Usually this wouldn't have mattered to her, but Talaren was the home of Era, enemy of Deviant, meaning there was no way for her to tell who was friend and who was foe.
Cura mused that there never was, before turning to the horse and telling it to go away. "Go on, leave now silly horse." The horse didn't leave, instead treading on the spot. Cura took this as a sign of protest. "I rode you in here so I tell you to go, now go!" The girl spoke with a raised voice, stomping and pointing towards the road on which they came soon after. "Get away you sil-" Her speech was cut off by the neighing of the horse. "That is so rude! You do NOT interrupt me when I'm speaking!" She yelled, the unwanted attention she dismounted to avoid now piling up in high amounts. "How would you like it if I interrupted you?"
Some laughed, some stared confusedly and others applauded, believing the girl to be putting on a show. Few even threw coins to her feet. After realising the high amount of people watching she stopped her argument and smiled, bowing to the crowd in true thespian fashion and picking up the coins. After expressing her thanks and telling the people to gather next sunrise to watch her sword-fight with a dog she left the market and headed down a quiet road away from prying eyes, the horse following far behind.
She wondered around the city for a few hours, marvelling at the mundane buildings and people as if they were alien even though they were as familiar to her as they were anyone else. She ended up standing outside of a place called The Manaspring Inn before deciding to give up the lone search and ask for directions. Still, precautions had to be taken. She walked up to the nearest person to her, an old man walking with a cane, before engaging him in conversation.
"Excuse me sir," She began, sweetly holding her hands together as the following horse stood behind her. "Are you a Deviant spy person?" The man looked at her curiously, letting out a short, nervous laugh before replying.
"Of course not my dear, I'm just a simple old man."
"Good. I am looking for the headquarters for Era, the guild." The man let out another short chuckle before pointing across the street.
"It's right there my dear."
"Oh..." She replied innocently, giggling as she spoke. "How foolish of me." Suddenly all innocence and happiness was drained from Cura as she glared at the man before her. "Though if you laugh at me again, old man, I will rip your throat out." The old man stared in shock and horror, wondering how someone could change so much so suddenly. Half a minute of staring passed, Cura angrily and the old man fearfully, before the innocent smile fell back upon the young girl's face. "Okay?" Her voice had regained its innocence as she spoke. "Thank you sir." She walked across the street towards the building, leaving the shocked old man in wonderment as he tried to figure out what had just happened.
"Now, you can stay out here." She told the horse who was relentless in its stalking. "If you come inside, I'll stab you in the face." After giving a stern look to the animal she walked into the building, ignoring the questions of the woman at the desk and walking straight towards the stairs.
"Excuse me... excuse me!" Laraena called, rushing from her seat towards the young girl as she ignored her. She stood in front of her, forcing her attention, and held out her hands to signal Cura to stop. "Excuse me, what are you doing?"
"Oh," She began, folding her arms. "I'm here to see Prix Nocer about joining the guild."
"Okay. Firstly his name is Nix Procer. Now, if you wish to join our guild you must first apply, then you'll be reviewed and... how old are you?"
"I'm sixteen... I think that's it anyway."
"Good," Laraena continued. "Now we're getting somewhere. Please, take a seat over there and I'll see about helping you join, okay?" She was concerned about allowing this strange girl to join, of course, but to humor and calm her was better then to give her reason to cause trouble. Cura walked over to and sat on one of the chairs near Laraena's desk, staring at the woman as she walked over and sat down. "I need to ask you a few questions before I can request a meeting, okay?" She continued upon seeing Cura nod. "Now, what is your name?"
"Cura. C-U-R-A." The teen answered with another nod and a smile.
"And your family name?" She asked, writing Cura's name upon a piece of parchment.
"G-..." Remembering that her family was well known as allies of Deviant, Cura held her tongue. "C-... Cura."
"Erm... your name is Cura Cura?" Laraena silently began to question whether Cura was seriously intending to join or was just wasting her time.
"Oh, no, I thought you said first name." The same nod and smile which accompanied her first answer appeared as she replied. "You want my last name. It's... Monkeypeaches." The guild secretary let out a short laugh, putting down what she held and standing.
"Ms. Monkeypeaches. You should have mentioned sooner." Cura stood as she saw Laraena do the same, failing to hide her confusion but attempting to play along nonetheless. "Mr. Fenwich has been awaiting your arrival. Please, follow me."
Considering I just made the name up he can't have been waiting long. Cura thought, wearily smiling as she nodded along and followed Laraena. Maybe I can use this to get myself in the guild, be tricky with them. "So, Mr. Fenwich... who is he again?" She asked. The secretary giggled.
"He didn't mention that you were so humorous." She remarked, leading her up the stairs and to his office. "In fact, he hasn't told us much about you. Pardon me for saying but your background is impressive considering your age. All I knew about you before now was your last name and some information about your time in the military, but all of that and you're only sixteen! I must admit I'm intimidated." If only you knew. "Well, here he is." Laraena gestured towards the door with Fenwich's name on it.
"Should I knock?" Cura asked. Her escort shook her head.
"Something tells me he knows you're here." With that said she gave a quick curtsy before walking back to the stairs and down to her desk.
"Strange lady." The teenager remarked before opening the door and walking in.
I had a dream I could buy my way to heaven,
When I awoke I spent that on a necklace.
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Nov 11, 08 at 2:19am ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
OOC: I just realized I'm not sure Abishai is even in Talaren right now, so if there is a problem with the second part fo the post, I'll just erase that.
"Thank you, Lola." Karnell gave a slight bow, with his right hand brought close and his head low. It was more like a gentleman kind of bow, just to make poor Lola blush.
"It- It was nothing, really! I'm just not sure What are you going to do with that much ?" The girl was perhaps a little younger than Rith. Her brownish blonde hair was kept as high as Ian's, but it was allowed to fall to the side of her face which, by the way, was downright beautiful. Dark blue eyes. Karnell could guess that meant something about it. Beauty, with the complete absence of frailty. After all, Lola was the responsible for the Treasury.
"I don't think I am supposed to tell this to anyone just now But it's for a special mission. Nix has assigned both me and Rith, and he's still picking the other three who're going. I think Hana and Unger will be assigned, too. He's still picking the other one." He gave a slight smile.
Officially, Rith and Ian were considered the "top dogs" among Nix's ranks. Unofficially, they were respectively the soul and the heart of the guild, if one considered Daemar the body. Rith was the man behind it all, and he was loved by the people of Talaren. Daemar was the image of Nix to the guild members. But Karnell was liked by both the people and his comrades. While Rith was individually adored for his contribution to the city, Ian represented what Era was to the people. He was its emissary. And inside, Daemar wasn't wandering around the corridors. It wasn't his place to do so. Ian was a symbol to the men and women in Era, the "father" image that helped Era feel like more like a unlikely big family than most guilds, no matter their size. They had trust for each other.
"By the Mace of Eludis, why is he sending the both of you?! This is serious, are you going to fight war or what?"
"Keep it down Don't worry about that, I'm just telling you the reason for this much funding. I don't think there would be trouble if people knew about this, but I have to make sure..." He placed his green-eyed stare into her eyes, making sure she could tell he was serious about it. " you won't tell anyone about this."
Lola stopped for a second, giving a slight nod. She was a bit confused, but kept her happy smile.
Karnell left soon after.
"Aaah. Good day to you too, chief. I suppose you mean you want the usual?" Paul, the barkeep, waved his over-exercised belly with pride. He was always happy when Era's boys went to his tavern. He crouched under the counter and brought up a bottle of gin and another one, without label, plus a glass. "Here, gin and apple juice."
Karnell thanked the man, taking the glass and a seat. Next to him, a big man, dark-skinned, moved his eyes to the side. Ian could notice some surprise, but none of them said a word. Both seemed more interested in enjoying the ambiance and that kind of thing
At least until, on one of the shelves behind the counter, a bottle of cheap wine was burst open, being followed by the metallic sound of a knife hitting the floor.
"You're cheating! Give me my money back or I'm gonna kill you!" In the center of the room, in one of the game tables, a tall and muscular man seemed to be causing an uproar. "I swear I'm gonna kill you, you bastard son of a boot!"
"I'm not cheating! You're just a bad player and a worse loser. I should give your money back, but just because I feel bad about taking candy from the stump of a tree."
The men continued the argument for a few more seconds, before the one who lost money finally took out a shiny knife from his belt.
"Your not so brave now, heh? I was going to let you out of this, but now I'm gonna gut you just for pissing me off!"
"The joke's over, ladies." From behind him, a charmingly imposing voice spoke. The man turned, already scared as hell. "Hand over the knife, ma'am"
The man nodded silently, trembling while he dropped the weapon on Karnell's hand. He tried to say something, but found he could not.
"Now, if you would be so kind, get out of here. And quit playing betting games, if you can't take it then don't mess with it." The man nodded again, running off without looking back on. "As for you, I would want you to kindly avoid using your gift like that again, 'Jack'. If you get yourself into something like that again, I'm going to teach you how to cheat, personally."
The other man nodded as well, leaving the bar without even taking the money.
"Impressive First you make the barman feel like he's having the best costumer of the day. The next thing I know, you're scaring punks like those away without even making an effort. You must be truly a man of virtue, to both charm and strike fear when needed. And even though I don't know you, I feel drawn to admire you. Sir, I am called Abishai, may I ask you for your name?"
"Er Karnell, Ian. Not exactly in that order." He glared at the strange man, trying to guess what this was about.
"Ian Karnell, then? Ah! I think I've heard about you, Ian. Are you with the guild Era?"
"Oh, why yes Do you have any business with the guild?" He could be another Deviant. It seemed unlikely, but he was far too weird to be considered "normal folk".
"Oh, I'm sorry, mister Karnell. I didn't mean to disturb you, most people only use their last names for business, really. But I respect that, if it's your wish. I will call you Karnell, from now on."
Ian's expression was probably one of utter surprise and confusion. Who the hell was that man?
Edit: Nov 11, 08
Check out Utopia, the RP. No, I'm not going to link you.
EDIT: Additionally, I'll link you to Anno Domini. Check out Why.
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Nov 11, 08 at 12:50pm ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
It was almost muscle memory the way the shelter was constructed, find an outcropping of rock, find dried wood, get the fire going, kill supper, cook it, then sleep. However this night young Kush didn't find sleep so easy as he lay awake looking up at the cloudy night sky with thoughts of his future going through his mind. For over two year he had survived in the Wastes of Elinia where many had died, thus proving to himself that he was capable of taking of himself.
After being in schools for ten years he had thought he had gone soft with all the civilized nonsense he had to put up with. Out here in the Wastes there was no teacher to dish out punishment, it was your hunger and the cold night wind piercing to your very core for failing at dinner or fire. It was a harsh life though it was simple and easy to understand for Kushluk.
No one was in charge of his fate, his decisions his own to make and deal with the consequences. Their was no one to worry about other than him which sat very well with the gifted wastelander. In truth Kush was happy out here on his own, meeting the occasional traveler for conversation and news for interaction so he doesn't become too much off an isolationist.
It was because of the family he rescued earlier that he had trouble sleeping, their fates where changed because of what he did and he was damn proud of stepping in to help. As his gaze went over the night sky from star to star though he wondered out loud to himself "You really can only affect a few people out here buddy ... I wonder if I should .. Ahhh hell here we go again." He gritted his teeth and growled realizing that sometimes he thinks a bit too much.
After chiding himself he refocused on the stars above saying too himself with the pain of truth hitting him "In order to help the fate of all the people like the folks today you have to end your wandering and go back to civilization." He really growled to himself that time going through the list sarcastically "Great I can already see how this will end. The city itself is a slum with the poor making up almost everyone while a few stuck up peacocks and fat faggot merchants are profiting off em. yeah I would go in thar and help the little man, cause more trouble than I bargained for and soon enough I would use my gift. THEEEN all hell will break lose and chaos will ensue. That may also bring Guilds into the mix, looking to kill or recruit me." He took a swig out of his leather cowhide flask as his mouth was a tad bit dried uo from his rant.
Truly Kush wondered why he spoke to himself half the time but he reasoned that if he could remind himself of what he was getting into out loud then maybe it would help him see the whole picture. It also helps to hear himself talk, though he does talk with every traveller in the Wastes it still does get a little lonely out here. That was one of the sacrifices he had to make in order to bear the harshness of the Wastes.
It didn't matter what Kush thought about civilization or his longing to see other people. Looking at the stars he was again reminded that he was just a drop in the ocean, though a special drop because of his gift and one who could change the fates of others for the better. He took a deep breath and came to his decision and found sleep a bit easier.
In the morning he doused the fire and gathered up his weapons and few meager possessions. He set his double voulge in halves on his back with his repeating crossbow on his hip. For once Kush was thankful that he had used up almost all of his food and supplies thus cutting down on what he was carrying. With his head held high and a wry smile on his face the young man set his feet on the road toward Talaren, the Guild of Era, and it's leader Nix.
Kushluk Shimazu was going to change the fate of those around him for the better, that and it would be good to talk to someone other than himself. He started to whistle his tune to himself as he crossed the barren landscape.
The tune he is whistling: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yUBKwf5urhU&feature=related ... go ahead and cut it after 36 seconds XD
Only the dead have seen the end of war - Plato
Every conflict has a peace at the end, every peace has a war coming - Kush
When the first bullet goes by your head, politics and all that other shit goes right out the window - Hoot
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|Wyvern Knight Zero||
Nov 11, 08 at 8:38pm ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
OOC: Talaren, yes. I'm a rusty role-player, need to remember to specify my settings XD
"Surprise, bordering on shock, perhaps. Don't be alarmed, friend, I simply have the innate gift to analyze emotions and roughly determine their cause." Abishai gave a meek smile, unaware of the irony his next sentence would invoke. "Now, I am not quite certain of your gift; but that is not my business. If I would guess, however, I'd say your charismatic nature is quite inhuman."
Anyways, back to business.
"As for my business with Era – it can only be classified 'business' if you wish it to be so. In terms of my alignment, I am no longer bound to any particular allegiance – my usefulness and purpose alongside them seemed to have faded. So now, I am simply a vigilante." Abishai forced a chuckle, doing his best to dim the meaning of his statement – vigilantes were perceived in a mix way; they were either just as bad as criminals thinking themselves heroes or worse altogether. That wasn't all he was trying to downplay – Abishai was quite aware that although his claim at having been released from his guild was truthful, it was still somewhat suspicious. "Simply put, I am trying to find myself a new direction – to place myself in a position where I'm able to help society in ways I could not before."
Abishai took the last swig in his grimy – he was used to it – cup of water, clearing his throat and easing his vocal cords in the process. Typically, the man had few words to speak; demonstrating his thoughts through actions, but this was business. "Era, as I understand it, is not yet considered a major power as far as Guilds go but from my experience, based off all the people I've met, things that have more to prove, are always in a position to help more than the greatest power. So, I suppose my path leads me here. Talaren. So I could aid in Era's cause. What do you say, Sir Karnell?"
Karnell did not instantly give a reply, preferring to mull it through while his charismatic self rattled off a comment born from years of likable wit, "You can't read me to find out?"
The dark giant was a hard one to humor – he appreciated sincere attempts at amusement, but he was always more resilient to jokes and quips; such a concept was foreign to a man who had lived most of his life in captivity. In this case, however, the man's persona was simply too much for Abishai to withstand, and the latter found himself laughing intensely, comfortable in the near-stranger's presence.
After he had gathered his self and staunched the flow of laughter, Abishai procured a suitable response, "I have decided, from now, for the sake of this conversation, to cease reading your emotions. A trust thing, you could say."
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Nov 12, 08 at 6:04pm ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
The Southern Reaches were dark today. The sun had started its descent from the sky, falling out of view behind the highest mountain in Elinia, Mt. Valrock. The dark brown rock that made up the mountain turned black, making appear as though one was about to walk through the valley of death itself. Few trees littered Valrock's side. However, the mountains to the east were greatly forested, having just the right mixture of soil to be completely fertile for whatever decides to try and grow. One could live on one such mountain for as long as they needed, staying clear of civilization by staying near the spring between Valrock and two of its sister mountains, one of which being highly dense with vegetation. There was one such thing that appeared out of place in this rarely changing environment: a woman.
She was a beautiful creature. Tall, proud, stoic; there was an expression of intelligence sparkling behind her dark brown eyes. Jade Amantil stood taller than most females and some males at five feet eleven inches, a slim build that came easily through metabolism but perfected through training. Her face came down as somewhat angular, a long face as most would call it, but seemed to show a more charming side of her. Unfortunately, there was nothing charming about the state she was in now. Her tanned skin glistened with a layer of sweat, her chest heaving heavily as she gasped for air, her simple green clothes ripped in all but the right places from running through tree branches without care, and her brown hair contained many twigs and leaves. Jade had one simple problem with a very complex answer: she was being hunted.
She wasn't just being hunted by any normal creature, either. This beast was no normal being; a large wolf, fully the height of a tall man, with deep purple-black fur. A canine of insane strength, Jade had seen it take down a bear all by itself taking virtually no injuries. Her mission had been to hunt down the creature and incapacitate it, but now she found that the roles were reversed and she found herself fleeing. Even now she sought a place to hide and found a sanctuary near Valrock Spring. By the large body of water had been a small-mouth cave. She was slim enough to fit into it, and she did so with haste. The woman had only managed to outrun the beast by use of her Gift, but that would only slow him down when he was on the rampage. She took the time to rip off the sleeves of her clothes, allowing her skin to breathe easier while she rested. Her eyes constantly watching the doorway; there was no doubt that he would be able to track her down to the cave, the sheer amount of sweat she had shed made damned sure of that. Nevertheless, she watched and was soon rewarded.
The dark purple wolf slowly made its way into the clearing, head held high as it sniffed the air. It approached cautiously, its dark red eyes shining with supernatural intelligence, even more so than the girl's had. Just another reason why this creature was to be feared, she thought. Instead of heading straight to her as she thought he would, it stood at the edge of the spring and sniffed cautiously. After a few moments, the large wolf apparently felt it safe to drink and started lapping up the water. An ear twitch later, his head raised into the air, his tongue removing any extra water from his muzzle, sniffing the air again. She watched, holding her breath despite the need for air that her body apparently wanted. The wolf got closer, its nails clicking loudly against the mountain's rocky floor. It could not hunt as effectively here, there was nothing to conceal his large body with, nothing to mask his scent or his sounds. It looked much more hesitant than it had back in the forest. Without a doubt, it should be cautious; Jade had escaped him twice already. She was proving to be a worthy adversary.
Even now he could feel her energy, the Mana that bound the area moving in their combined presence. She knew he would find her soon, and decided that there was no point in waiting to be pinned. In her hand came a long, thin tube of green energy, her other hand gaining a thin board of the same type. The only way to beat this beast here in the open was to act aggressively while playing defensively. As the beast neared, she could hear its loud breathing almost eclipsing the sound of her heart racing by now. She let loose one last breath before calmly sidling out of the cave. The wolf froze in his tracks and watched her. It had broken her longbow between his teeth and her small knife had shattered against his hide, but now she had rearmed herself with weapons in a way he had not yet witnessed. The two stared each other down, which caused the wolf to lower its body slightly, hackles raised as it growled, eyes and ears alert. She merely stood there and watched, within an instant a pointed spearhead appeared at the end of the tube and she held it, ready to throw. The wolf soon charged.
Wait for it, wait for it wait for it Now! Nimbly jumping to the side, Jade threw the makeshift spear into the shoulder of her foe, causing it to howl in pain. Instead of going down quickly, the beast lowered its head and swung it around, connecting its think skull with her stomach. The wind was knocked out of her and she was sent tumbling, rolling several feet away before defiantly jumping to her feet. She felt lucky, if it had snapped at her then she would have surely lost a limb, if not her life, and she didn't injure her head in the fall. The two circled now, watching the other carefully. All Jade had was a shield as she hadn't released the Mana spear from existence quite yet, but she had a plan. She stopped suddenly and raised the shield. The wolf stopped suddenly and looked at her curiously, continuing the low growl that it had set. In a second, the shield expanded, and in the next second it flung forward. The beast lowered its head and turned to its good shoulder, moving forward to collide with the Mana barrier. The battle for ground was intense. At times, Jade proved to have a stronger will than the wolf, pushing it towards the water, but other times the wolf proved limitless in its strength and stamina.
This particular battle lasted over a half hour, Jade making slightly more ground than she had before. The wolf was at the edge of the water, still pushing with all of its might, though it couldn't try as hard as it had before. This was the crucial moment, either she incapacitates the creature right now or she would fail after coming so far. The thought of that sickened her; she was taught by her father that defeat was not something you take without extraordinary circumstances. This was not one of those moments and she would not give up. The barrier between them dropped, causing the wolf to stumble forward in confusion. A wall of green energy rose up from beneath it, lifting the animal up off of the ground before bars came up around it, finally cutting off at the top with another wall. The wolf was hovering half a foot off of the ground now before it lowered itself again. Jade walked over to the fighting wolf, coming to a stop a few feet away. She sniffed the air and nearly gagged, though she wouldn't believe that she smelled like a rose, either. A smile broke through the look of disgust on her face before she smirked, speaking for the first time in days with a low voice. "Father, I think you need a bath."
The wolf stopped at once and looked at her, head cocked to the side with ears raised in a questioning manner. A laugh escaped the girl's mouth as the cage was forcefully pushed into the spring, sending the wolf with it. As soon as she heard the splash, she fell backwards and hit the rocky terrain with a thud that she didn't even feel. Her hunt was finally over; she had succeeded in capturing the beast after four full days. Although it would surely roam free after the cage disappeared from her exhaustion, she would be safe. It may have been scary, but she knew that her father wouldn't take her life. The last image she saw was a duo of clouds, bright and white, move across the oceanic sky, drifting carelessly as she drifted to sleep.
Ooc: I don't like it, but I want to make my presence known
No character sheet. But, to clarify, Jade is sixteen years old and the wolf is not really a wolf.
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Nov 14, 08 at 12:56am ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
Kaelan Bree strode across the makeshift stage in the city of Talaren, a cocky grin plastered upon her face. The grin widened as she took note of the men in the audience, and even some of the women, taking a keen interest in her slender legs, revealed up to her thighs from the slits in her customized dress. Her staff clicked against the wood as the silver end hit with each step like one's favorite walking stick. She reached up to her face and adjusted her stray bangs falling around her left eye into a comfortable position and made sure her hair remained tied back into the neat little tail she had prepared. She had done this many times, more so in the past week, but safety always came first. The slender girl continued walking until she stood behind the lone candle sputtering in the middle of the stage, casting up a thin line of smoke into the morning air. Kaelan took a wide stance before the candle and held her left arm out, her right hand still rooted to the shaft of her staff. Like a spider meticulously spinning its web, she began to weave her hand through intricate patters, directing her energy toward the small flickering tongue of fire struggling for life on the candle's wick.
Slowly, like a snake being charmed by its master, the flame flared brighter and began to grow. It coiled around itself as Kaelan coaxed the serpentine flame into the air, the base never leaving the wick. Awed silence stretched over the audience as they sat on the edge of their seat, held captive by the beautiful sorceress before them. Kaelan's pretty smile grew as she stabilized the flame into an immobile position, the fire not even flickering. Then, she held the moon-shaped tip of her staff to the pillar of crystallized heat and beckoned it with her free hand. The curling crystal began to wind its way around the wood and silver inlaid in the pole, though neither was either scorched or even heated. With a sudden jerk, Kaelan yanked the staff away, severing the base of the fire from the wick. Instead of dieing out, however, the flame began to glow in different colors, ranging from blues, yellows, reds and even green. Planting the end of the staff on the ground, Kaelan stared straight at the tip of the flame and began gesturing dramatically at it. The surface roiled like a sea of fire as the shape began to change. A suddenly as it started, the movement stopped, leaving behind the near perfect visage of a serpent. The crowd gasped as the snake reared on its own will from the staff, seeming to gaze out into the audience, opening its mouth to reveal sparking fangs. Reaching up to the snake's head, Kaelan caressed the warm surface.
"Would anyone like to volunteer to pet the serpent?" she called out into the audience with a wry grin on her face and a mischievous gleam in her eye. She held the staff aloft and allowed the snake to gaze out into the crowd with pinpricks of blue for its eyes. A hand tentatively rose from near the front. Kaelan looked to see the bearer of the hand, a large man in perhaps his mid thirties. "You there! Come up to the stage!"
The man hesitated, then finally overcome with the young girl's charm, rose from his seat and made his way uncertainly to the stairs of the makeshift stage. He ascended the few steps and walked to stand in the center of the stage. Kaelan held her staff out horizontally with her right hand, away from the man and stretched her left to him.
"What's your name, good sir?" she asked innocently as the serpent slithered around the staff and towards her outstretched hand. The snake curled playfully around her neck in its path and she laughed.
"Lyle Cesh," the man replied, backing away one step as the snake reached Kaelan's hand and reared up, studying the man with its sapphire eyes. He cautiously held his hand up and reached out to the burning animal. Just as his hand touched the warm, glassy surface, the man yelped as the serpent lunged for his arm, sparks leaping from its mouth. The crowd laughed uproariously at the young sorceress's antics.
"Apologies!" Kaelan said, giggling with glee. "It appears he doesn't like you!"
With the audience still laughing as the man looked around sheepishly, the snake sped from her arm and raced back to her staff. Kaelan held her staff up to the sky as the serpent reached the tip and sprouted wings. The newly formed dragon leapt off the stick and whirled into the sky with a roar. A gasp rose from the laughter of the people that quickly turned into thunderous cheering and applause as the dragon exploded in the sky, throwing fires of every color in all directions. Kaelan bowed to the clapping and threw out her hand scattering blinking butterflies of fire into the air over their heads.
"Thank you!" Kaelan yelled over the applause, her grin still spread across her beautiful face. Her emerald eyes sparkled with glee as the people rose and continued applauding. Kaelan habitually flipped the bangs covering her left eye and left the stage as, one by one, the butterflies winked out of existence. Waiting at the bottom of the steps was Dhane Canticle, holding a bag of gold in his hand.
"Great show! Great show!" he praised, the bag of gold tinkling along with his compliments. "Ye really brought th' house down, kid!"
"Thank you, Dhane," Kaelan replied, grinning as she did so. "So where's my cut?"
"Greedy bastard, aren't ye?" Dhane remarked with a wink. He tossed Kaelan the bag and she caught the heavy gold with one hand. "By th' way, someone came by to see ye."
"I trust that you told them that I'm far too busy for any more performances," the girl said, tossing the bag up and catching it over and over, starting to walk away.
"Actually, he didn't say what he wanted," Dhane called after. Kaelan stopped and turned. "He only asked to see ye. When I said ye were performing, he bought a ticket and left. He might have been out in the crowd, but I'm not really sure."
"And you don't have any idea what he wanted?" Kaelan asked, chewing thoughtfully on her finger.
"Not a clue," Dhane said, holding his arms up helplessly. "People say that he's one o' them from Era. Damned creepy lot o' people to be sure. He seemed like a nice man though. I didn't get a good look at 'im to make out much. Didn't seem that keen to talk to me "
"Well," Kaelan said with a giggle. "It's not much help to tell me someone came to see me then tell me you didn't get their name or even remember what they look like!"
"Now ye listen here, young lass," Dhane stated, poking out a stubby, wrinkled finger in mock indignation. "When ye get to be my ol' age, ye jest better remember yer little remarks. They may just come back to bite ye in yer bottom!"
"Nobody can hope to ever reach your age, Old Dhane!" Kaelan taunted mockingly, turning towards the marketplace of the town. She tied the heavy gold to the belt cinched around her slender waist and began to walk away.
"Jest remember," Dhane called after her, his tone becoming serious. "Ye need to be careful who ye ally yerself with. In this day, it might well get ye killed."
The sorceress stopped and looked at the dirt. All her life she had wanted adventure and fame. Fame was in her grasp, but adventure was another thing. Now, with someone from Era supposedly looking for her, yet another of her dreams could come true as well. Shaking herself of her reverie, she squared her shoulders and waved behind her in an offhanded manner. Bag of gold clinking against her thigh, the young girl strode confidently to the market, hoping that whoever was looking for her services would find her.
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OoC: Up for any character interaction. Just setting up the scenery
Edit: Nov 14, 08
The Second Bounty - Words are our Weapons! - Come Join the Family!
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Nov 19, 08 at 3:33am ^re: Gift of Elinia ~ [PM] [M] [The World is Flat] [Begun, the RP has // No Longer Accepting]
The redhead arched her eyebrows and turned to exchange glances with Unger, who was far too young to be in a guild. Rith led a raven-haired woman into Nix Procer's room. As Rith passed, Hana tried to ask with her electric blue eyes: Why is she meeting with Nix so suddenly? Unfortunately, Rith did not pick up on this silent ask, and led the woman into the room.
Hana leaned against the wall and folded her arms behind her head. Why did it matter to her? All Hana had to do was guard a door with Unger all day. It wasn't as boring as one might think - Unger had yet to pick up on some of Hana's illusions. That was always a fun thing to do. The redhead closed her eyes, and concentrated. She imagined herself saying good-bye to Unger, saying that she wanted off guard duty for the day. Illusion-Hana walked off down the hall.
"I'm not falling for that again," Unger shook his head, that resembled that of a mop. Surroundings spinning slightly, Hana Kimura was back leaning against the wall.
"I wonder what they're talking about in there," she mumbled to herself. "Unger, what do you think?"
"I dunno," Unger replied quietly. Hana toyed with her elbow-length locks and slid her black cloak hood over her eyes. "Maybe they're talking about letting that girl into the guild or something. I dunno, really."
Hana remembered when she joined in Era. She had run away from DeviantART! and traveled around Elinia until Era was founded. There, Hana joined without hesitation. It didn't matter what guild she was in, as long as it wasn't cruel DeviantART!. She never told anybody about her past, for she was afraid they would mistake her as a Deviant spy or something of that sort.
The door creaked open, and the woman came out, hood over her face. She turned to Hana. "I have been told that you will take me to my room," she said quietly, and Hana had to inch closer to hear. Why was everybody mumbling today? Hana closed her eyes, and her Illusion-self took over.
"Your room is downstairs, two flights of stairs, in the basement. Be sure to fill up the mousetraps with cheese, though, all the mice aren't quite dead," said Hana's Illusion.
"Oh really? Now, when will you stop messing with me and tell me where the room really is?" the woman replied.
"I told you, the basement. You get to sleep on the nice cot, I think old man Roberts is sleeping in the bad one. . . be careful, that guy snores. . ." Illusion-Hana trailed off.
"Stop making up such stupid and utterly random illusions and just take me to my room," said She, exasperated. Hanna wrenched her eyes open, and smiled. "Is everybody here being an idiot? That Rith Soromer especially."
"Only on Tuesdays, Miss. Let me show you to your room."
Hana nodded at Unger, who nodded back. Hana led the woman down the hallway, past many doors that led into other rooms of the Guild members. Hana passed Rith's, Unger's, and a few others that she did not know well. The two walked in silence, until they reached the end of the hallway where a door with no name stood, waiting anxiously to be occupied by somebody other than the ornate furniture. Hana turned to the woman.
"May I ask of your name?" Hana asked, leaning against a wall, arms crossed.
"Aila Tranelle," said Aila. "I would guess this is my room?"
"You guess correctly," said Hana, opening the door. Aila let out a small gasp. The bedroom was decorated with the beautiful, ornate furniture that the other rooms had, and were as fancy as the hallway beyond its polished wood door. The bed was a large four-poster, made out of shiny wood and an elaborately-decorated bedcover. There were other fancy furniture items as well, such as the oak desk and chair, the tall wardrobe, and some other things. Hana stretched her arms out ta-da style. "You like? The rest of the rooms here are like this, so you're not getting anything special. But hey, you're not getting anything worse. That's a good thing.
"I'd better get back to Unger," Hana finished. "But it was nice meeting you, Aila. Enjoy your stay."
With that, Hana left back to Nix Procer's room.
Nineteen full lines on my computer.
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