122 replies to this topic

[Toa of Dancing]

Athiah/Refectory\IC:

Had she been a bit icy in her last statement? By the very slight glimmer of a wince, not enough to truly be noticed by anyone who wasn't reading as far as they could into the person to whom they spoke, she guessed she was too proper. Thus, best to keep the conversation going. "Yes, greater treasure than any ruler before me. It's become somewhat of a competition from generation to generation to outdo the last. All in fun, of course. This competition is also due to the fact that the kingdom is constantly growing, and thus we need more money to support ourselves."

Rowun motioned toward his defining characteristics in turn as he replied, "I am kreuwn, a race similar to humans. However, we generally have far lighter skin color, our hair is always white or gray, our eyes reflect light far brighter than humans, and - most defining - we are taller than humans. The shortest of our adults, unless they have some condition, are six feet tall. I myself amabout nine feet, though about half a foot was gained with my transformation."

With shock in his voice, Runar said in the tongue, "Oh dear! I had no knowledge of the sort! As I stated, I believed that I was the last surviving liech in this world. However, now that I know of our plight, I will help in any way I can. Which raises the question - why are you not defending our brethren?"

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
"I suppose that would be one of the bigger drawbacks to a treasure-based economy," said Greycliffe. The very notion amused her; what she did for sport this kingdom had apparently turned into a business model! "If you need any help with the treasure-seeking, perhaps I could lend a hand? I'm not much in it for the riches, more for the thrill and glory - and, let's be honest, a small percentage of the riches, I'm not a charity. Provided you think you need the extra help, of course..."

[For Science!]

[Toast of Awesomeness]

IC(Rochare): "I see, haha. Well, I had noticed your height, my friend. I suppose that clears things up. So, all this raises the question, how did you come to find yourself here?"

IC(Krigaer): "The humans have not entered our caverns- for the time being. They believe us far stronger than we are. You are not the last Liech- at the moment. A scarce 400 souls remain in the caverns, and our numbers continue to drop. Most have used their Wurzelen(roots) to dig into the ground, absorbing what nutrients they're able to extract. They're little more than plants now, but they grow weaker every day. As for why I am here, it is hoped that if I am able to bring back the treasure, it will allow us to acquire food and hopefully allies. Perhaps we will even be able to restore our magic, and take back the land the humans have stolen from us."

[Toa of Dancing]

OOC: Hey TPtI, the list was never updated with Athiah. Assuming, of course, that her entourage is approved.

Athiah and Brithlin/Refectory\IC:

"The more they merrier, Elisia! Just sign on the list. I'm getting more signers than I expected, but there will be treasure all around to split. Equally, of course. The portions of Rowun and I are slowly piling up - and no, I won't tell you where it is," she said with a wink before walking away toward her friend.

"Athiah and I have been good friend ever since my family moved across the world to her noble kingdom. We've been almost brother and sister. Mind you, our relationship is getting more, say, loving... Anyways, I agreed to help her on her quest for the kingdom. She has to find treasure enough to finance her reign, and I have sworn to help he with that task," said Rowun with a grin towards Athiah.

"Ah. Well, I shall help you by contributing my portion - indeed, you might want to join this expedition that the human in the white and blue dress has set up for tomorrow. She seems of noble character, and promises to split shares equally, along with obtaining anything we need for the journey into the fortress. Once we gather what we need, I shall accompany you back to our homelands to assist in fighting the humans of lesser character," Runar said, pointing towards Athiah.

More drink, and then off to bed for the morning's journey... Brithlin loved adventuring so very much. It made his hair stand, his skin crawl, his adrenaline pump, just being in an exhilarating fight with hordes of undead of cave-dwellers. He drank another tankard of grog and then sauntered off through the doors, into the rain, and to his temporary house, surprisingly alert for how much alcohol he had consumed that night.

[Toast of Awesomeness]

IC(Rochare): "Good for you, mate! Aha, and so I see. Well, with another werewolf around who's in at least some control of his wits, it might be easier for me to keep ahold of mine. Full moon's in a week, you know. Do you mind if I accompany you?"

IC(Krigaer): "I cannot thank you enough. With two of us working at this, we may have a shot at saving our race. By the way, though- do you possess magical talent? I'm one of the few Liech we know of remaining with any at all, and I'm not even that good at it."

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
With a vague wave goodbye, Elisia gave a skeptical glance down at the sheet. Try as she might to give up her hangups, she just wasn't happy with the thought of signing into the service of some royal. It was nothing more than her own stubborn pride, Greycliffe knew this well, but pride was really the only possession she still had left. She quickly scrawled something close to her name at the bottom of the sheet, then turned back to the tables. Suddenly, she could use another drink.

---

Gauvik glanced through the drizzle towards the warm glow of the Refectory hall within, the people chatting about within. Gauvik was never really one for conversations. He could go on for hours explaining the balance and heft of a claymore blade, but what else did he have to talk about? He'd never set a foot outside the Kruenbaulc until he'd first left on his journey here, he had no common frame of reference with most of these adventurers. Even that kruewn in Athiah's employ felt like a stranger to him; he'd grown up in some lush palace in a distant land, not on cold, merciless slopes that sought any sign of weakness and dragged it down to the bottom of some jagged ravine.

So he'd taken the excuse to step outside, obstinately to practice and get fresh air. Then, the rain came down. Rain. That was another thing that Gauvik was still getting used to. Up in the Kruenbaulc rain was a scarce thing; the summers were short and dry, and raging snowfall consumed the rest of the year. The only times Gauvik had really seen rain were on his trips to the barter towns of the lowlands, the closest merchants from neighboring lands dared come to the hungry slopes of the Kruenbaulc. But here, it seemed to rain all the time; at first Gauvik welcomed it, letting them cool him off. But they were beginning to test his nerve; snowstorms were windy and chaotic, a battle for survival, but rain was just dull.

Still, he didn't have anywhere else to practice - he doubted the adventurers in the hall would enjoy him swinging a massive axe dangerously close to their limbs and necks - so he and the rain would have to put aside their differences for the moment. His armor safely stowed under a nearby awning to prevent rust, Gauvik stepped forwards and gave a few experimental swings with his blade. What should have been a heavy, unwieldy slab of metal flowed almost like an extension of Gauvik's own arms, spraying droplets of water in shimmering arcs as it sliced the sheets of pouring rain asunder. Gauvik knew this axe like an old friend; he knew its weight and balance, could sense every imperfection where he'd had to repair it, and could feel the smooth grooves his strong hands had left in the handle.

Two more powerful swings against the storm, a parry to block an imagined foe, then a sharp thrust forwards to set him off guard. In his head, Gauvik tried to imagine fighting the undead and golems said to reside in the Citadel, but his mind drifted back to the old familiar scenes as hard as he tried. This time it chose to go the pass at Neauburn; it might not rain in Kruenbaulc, but when the snow melts it pours down those ravines with all the force of a hurricane. He saw himself, clear as the day it happened, slogging knee-keep through a river of mud as war raged around him. The spray of water left him half-blinded; a fortune, as it was impossible to tell if the bodies drifting past were the rebels or his own comrades. A shape appeared in the downpour, whipping a flail through the air. Gauvik brought his axe to bear, forced to assume he must be an enemy - to this day Gauvik still had no idea if he'd dueled a rebel or simply another comrade, both to blinded by falling water to tell whose side they were on. The flail struck Gauvik in the shoulder and he dropped to the mud, but not before he caught hold of the attackers other arm and pulled him down as well.

The two were sucked down by the mudslide, dashed over and over against the sides of the ravine as the plunged down the mountain. Gauvik at first thought the soldier was still beating him with his flail, but soon realized he was instead striking boulders washed down by the flash-flood. Even if he was still under attack, it was far from his biggest concern as the wave of mud threatened to suffocate him. He lost track of how long they drifted, until finally they were dumped down a tributary into a shallow, murky pool. Both warriors rose; by some miracle the rebel had kept his flail, and Gauvik wouldn't have dreamed of losing his axe. The rebel wasn't fast enough and fell from a swift strike of a heavy gauntlet, his helmet tumbling off into the muck. The rebel rolled, groping at the mud for his weapon. Gauvik wasted no time, raising his axe over his head, and with a thunderous roar-

The loud crack of splintering wood brought Gauvik back to reality. His axe lay embedded in the earth, the shattered remains of a hitching post around it. Gauvik rubbed his rain-soaked face, forcing the memories away. While the battle hadn't been real for years, his shout almost certainly had; the best he could hope was that no one in the Refectory could have heard it over the pouring rain. With an irritated grumble, he pulled his axe back out of the ground and gave it a few more swings, struggling to get back into focus.

[For Science!]

[Toa of Dancing]

Athiah/Refectory\IC:

"We'd enjoy the presence of yet another," said Athiah to Rochare as she walked up, beaming. "Just sign your name and be ready by nine tomorrow morning. If you need any equipment, feel free to ask. We can buy it for you."

"Besides a few minor spells that have little effect, I'm sorry to say that I focus more upon physical battle. Still, I am skilled at using our natural defenses and weapons, along with my hammers. My name is Runar, sir. What's your name?"

Brithlin/With Gauvik\IC:

"Remembering past horrors, my friend?" said Brithlin as he walked up behind Gauvik. He had noticed something rather off in the his demeanor while passing, and the scream and shattering of the post proved it so. The dor perfectly ready to play a few notes to deflect an axe-blow, but hoped that the kreuwn would be reasonable. "I'd be willing to soothe your nerves. My music helps with these things."

Edited by Toa of Dischordant Dancing, Nov 05 2011 - 08:49 PM.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
"With all due respect, I'd much prefer you save your songs for a more important time. You might say it would be treating a symptom rather than the true ill," Gauvik said. He lowered his weapon to the ground and leaned casually on the handle. "A word of advice, though. In Kruenbaulc we have a saying that, rougly translated to the Common Tongues, means this: 'it is always unwise to surprise a man holding a very large axe.'"

He chuckled faintly.

"It loses some of its poetry in the translation, I'm afraid."

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 05 2011 - 09:23 PM.

[Toa of Dancing]

Brithlin/With Gauvik\IC:

Brithlin laughed as he sat on a rock, perfectly fine to be soaked through by the rain. "Very nice, and I agree with it heartily. If, in fact, the person doing so doesn't have a means of defense. ...Indeed, it doesn't matter the time if it soothes the nerves. I know songs of forgetfulness, songs of remembrance, songs of peace and excitement. And as I was headed off to bed, I was planning on playing a few peaceful ones to myself."

Edited by Toa of Dischordant Dancing, Nov 05 2011 - 09:23 PM.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
"Fine. If you feel you have some tune which can soothe my aching nerves, I won't stop you from playing it, how's that? I've never had much need for music myself, beyond the tune of clashing steel and the roar of a furnace," Gauvik said. "Truth be told, there've never been many musicians in the Kruenbaulc. I reckon they're afraid of starting an avalanche."

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 05 2011 - 09:34 PM.

[Toast of Awesomeness]

IC: Rochare made a dramatic bow. "At your service, milady. I don't need anything, but I appreciate your offer. May we find our fortunes," he said with a laugh.

IC: "Oh... Well, no matter. I'll just have to use what I do have. And my name's Krigaer," he said, sticking out his hand.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

OOC: Well, here's my third character. Hope there's no problems with him; looking forward to mixing things up with some good old-fashioned EVIL.

Username: Chronicler of Ko-Koro
Name: Lord Tral Ketarn
Age: 47
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class: Royal
Equipment: Sword, hidden within his cane, knows some offensive magic, mostly fire spells. In his entourage:
-Rusk Wormwind, human fighter, wields twin hooked blades. Bald, dark eyes, muscular despite his small, wiry frame, wears patched leather clothes.
-Adela Wystheart, elven mage, wields a quarter staff entwined with thorns. Inky-black hair, violet eyes, clad in a torn black dress patterned with red veins, revealing enough of skin to show strange tattoos covering most of her body, displaying symbols of some forgotten - perhaps fortunately - language.
-Krunn Prektor, Liech mage, carries a shortstaff made from fused bones. Thin even by the standards of Liech, with especially pronounced spikes extruding from across his body.
-Orbek Rockrun, dwarven champion, wields a powerful stone hammer. Has a think russet-shaded beard, and wears heavy plate-armor accented with copper.
Appearance: A tall, thin man with fiery red hair and an identical forked goatee. Dresses in a variety of expensive crimsons and blacks, capped off by a black overcoat.
Personality: Smug and arrogant, treats others more as objects than people. He IS perfectly willing to deal honestly with others if they can make a convincing argument... but it takes a lot to convince him.
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Bio: Far south of the Great Citadel, in the Sanguine Isles lies a towering spire of blood-red stone: Castle Carmine, home to the infamous Lord Ketarn. There is much talk of Lord Ketarn, most of it spoken in hushed whispers. Some say the walls of his fortress are soaked crimson with the blood of disagreeable peasants. Some say he keeps a werewolf chained in the lowest dungeons and fed on human flesh, the only window providing the perfect view of the full moon’s rising. Some say he deals in the blackest forms of magic, keeping his subjects in line with dark trances. And some even say devils from beyond the furthest planes dance in the halls of Castle Carmine, but Ketarn cares not a word for any of it. If anything, he welcomes such speculation, and regularly slips rumors of his own into the mix. Yes, there is some truth in those stories, but good luck guessing which ones. The more outlandish stories circle about him, the harder it is to prove one as anything but.
While few can say exactly what lurks behind the walls of Castle Carmine (some say space bends backward and time sideways in its halls, while others say chants of no earthly tongue haunt the catacombs), all know of the grand library at the top of Ketarn’s tallest tower. Nowhere near the largest in the world nor the most extravagant, but it is home to some of the rarest and most ancient tomes around.
For all his carefully-cultivated impressions of terror, Ketarn considers himself a man of culture, and as such has built an impressive collection of rare and obscure books - genealogical records of all major bloodlines, vivid accounts of epic wars, early copies of religious texts before the editors got to them - some the last copies in the world (but some, of course, speak of the mysterious circumstances in which the other copies were lost...). Lord Ketarn shares this impressive collection openly, letting anyone lord or peasant browse his archives for just the right information (although there are those who say it felt as if the book had been waiting for them to pick it up)... provided they have no problem being in the debt of the Lord of the Isles of Blood.
Among the many texts contained within his library, none are held more dear to Ketarn than those on the subject of Sala-Grimna. Fascinated by the legends of the ancient sorcerer, Ketarn went to exceptional lengths to procure whatever few texts still survived describing his reign, trying to piece together any clues towards what secrets he might have left behind. Which, in turn, left him infuriated when his Grand Citadel was simply stumbled across, with no aid from him whatsoever. Not wanting to risk sending some underling who might betray him at the first sign of riches, Ketarn set out from Castle Carmine with his most trusted servants, the Grand Citadel of Sala-Grimna his destination. If anyone was to uncover the sorcerer’s secrets, surely there was no one more deserving than him?

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 06 2011 - 12:59 AM.

[Toast of Awesomeness]

OOC: Can you PM about the Liech guy? Due to the backstory of the race I want to limit the amount of Liech characters- I'm not necessarily against it, but I want to know some of his backstory... Lol.

[Toa of Dancing]

Athiah/Refectory\IC:

"In that case, we shall see you in the morning, good sir. In the meantime, we best be getting to our rooms," said Athiah as she bowed, took Rowun's arm, and walked off.

Runar replied, "Good to meet you. I look forward to hearing about everything that has happened at home. I'll be waiting outside, soaking up the rain and the soil."

Brithlin/With Gauvik\IC:

"I'm not the best, but I've been told I'm good," said Brithlin as he held the violin up to his chin (he had cast an enchantment upon it to keep it dry) and began to play. The melody was simple, but peaceful and beautiful. Brithlin had played it many a time for a restless child or a deranged man, knowing it to be a powerful spell of peace.



OOC: With the introduction of one evil character comes another:

Username: Toa of Dancing
Name: Birodor Trouclimar
Age: 175 (37)
Race: Dwarf
Class: Mage
Gender: Male
Equipment: A large axe; earthen spells
Appearance: Covered from head to toe in thick, dwarfish black armor, it is rare to see Birodor's face. The only distinguishable feature that can be seen is the jet black beard which trails for twice his height behind him. Through the slits of his helmet, others can see cold, beady black eyes.
Personality: Greedy to the ultimate level, challenging anyone who even dares to mention his treasure. Besides this, few know much about Birodor. They can tell from his beard that he is old, and from his magic that he is far more scholarly that you average dwarf. Those who do have a closer relationship with the dwarf get along with him very well; given, of course, that they enjoy talking about other adventurers' heads that they cut off.
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Bio: Birodor is different from your average dwarf in many respects. True, he's greedy, but even more so than others. True, he loves the earth and precious gems, but has chosen to control the earth via his magic. True, he's easy to get along with, but only if one loves talking about murder. He was raised by two ruling dwarfs, each equally as evil and greedy. He inherited both of their greed, but refused the throne of that kingdom. Instead, he wanted the world. He wanted to have the greatest power over the earth, and the greatest horde of wealth in the world. What better way than to build off of what Salas-Grimna left behind?

[Toast of Awesomeness]

IC: "I'll see you then. Have a good night, my friends!" called Rochare. He grinned to himself.

Too easy.

IC: Krigaer nodded. "I'll join you momentarily- I'd like to see what all they sell first."

He walked over to the merchants' stalls, scanning the rows of weapons and food.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
Gauvik couldn't speak for the quality of Brithlin's music - he'd never listened to nearly enough to feel qualified as a judge - but he couldn't deny the soothing effect it had.

"...Thank you for that," he said with a courteous nod. "But the dreams will simply come again, I'm afraid. And while I appreciate the assistance, I'm sure you'll understand why I'd rather you didn't sing me to sleep with lullabies every night. So, in the end, what does it solve?"

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 06 2011 - 10:04 AM.

[Lord Kaitan de Storms]

OOC: Gah, still having some internet troubles. All characters and entourages posted since I last did approved.

I get the impression that Gauvik is supposed to have PTSD, which is actually a very good point. I might do a little of that with Aidan as well...

IC: [Merchants]

"Welcome, traveler! We have only the finest wares... Looking for weapons? Perhaps this dwarf-made broadsword will interest you..."

[Toa of Dancing]

Brithlin/With Gauvik\IC:

"We have a saying in Doriah: A moment of peace is better than none at all. Helping a friend, whether a new acquaintance or an old buddy, is invaluable," said Brithlin with a smile.

Edited by Toa of Dischordant Dancing, Nov 06 2011 - 03:18 PM.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
"It seems your sayings translate far better than mine," chuckled Gauvik. "God... I suppose I've been a soldier for far too long. Fight as many battles as I have, it's hard to see peace as anything but the lull before the next big storm."

And then, because fate is known for her flair for the dramatic, the lull broke, and a new storm came crashing in.

Somewhere in the distance, hidden behind a wall of pouring rain, came the rattle of a carriage. All was curiously silent for a few moments, then a shape started to emerge from the downpour. Not the massive, armored shape of Gauvik's dreams, but perhaps just as dreadful. This man was slim and slender, dressed in a slick overcoat and carrying a cane at his side; most curious, since he did not seem to have even the slightest limp. His face was obscured at a distance by the rain, but unmistakable even in these torrents was the man's almost unnaturally bright red hair. He was a man unlikely to be mistaken for anyone else; the Lord of the Isles of Blood always ensured that his reputation proceeded him.

More shapes slunk in the fog behind him; the superstitious might think for a moment they were demons, said to dance in Lord Ketarn's court for his amusement. As they drew closer it became clear they were merely mortals, but that might prove little comfort. While Ketarn surrounded himself with an aura of fear and misdirection, the band that followed him were much more direct in their intentions, the tools they carried practically radiating the harm they wished to inflict. Lord Ketarn - giving practically no heed to the rainfall beating down upon him - clasped both hands atop his cane and leaned forwards to address the dor and kruewen.

"Good evening, sirs. My, my, some weather we're having, isn't it?" he asked, curiously casual. "They say the devil himself rides in storms like this, but it's never where I've met him. My name is Lord Ketarn... perhaps you've heard of me, yes?"

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 06 2011 - 05:03 PM.

[Toa of Dancing]

Brithlin and Birodor/With Gauvik and Ketarn\IC:

"We've adopted a common language," replied Brithlin with a smile. However, this smile was quickly wiped from his face by the unwelcome intrusion of Ketarn. "Absolutely lovely. I love rain. The mists it creates perfectly portray a persons' heart. And no, I haven't heard of you; scum rarely stops by in Doriah.

From another direction came another figure. It was much harder to see this figure, as he was covered inblack from head to foot and shorter than all but Brithlin and his fellow dwarf. Even with the lack of height and visibility, however, he cut an imposing figure. Upon his heavily armored shoulder the dwarf carried a large axe, also black, with a wicked blade. His forked beard trailed behind him on either side, while his black eyes glinted in the flashes of lightning.

Birodor proudly strutted up to the group, immediately recognizing potential in a few of them. His deep, booming voice emanated from the black helmet as he said the the group at large, "Good evening, gentlemen. Anyone needing their head cut off? Their riches stolen? Their pride crushed in the dirt, ground to dust, and drank by their conqueror?"

[Toast of Awesomeness]

IC: Krigaer shook his head.

"I'm just browsing, thank you. Perhaps later."

He finished his "window-shopping", and moved outside, taking his place next to his fellow Liech. He removed his chest armor and unfastened his shirt. Flaps of skin opened on his chest, and purplish tentacles snaked out, worming their way into the mud. The rain on his skin was absorbed through the pores as he drank.

His tentacles branched out beneath the surface, seeking out nutrients. One of the "roots" brushed against that of the other Liech, and the two wrapped together.

Krigaer's voice echoed in the mind of the other Liech.

I'm assuming you know about this? Or do I need to explain it? he asked with a chuckle.

OOC: For clarification, that's Dancing's Liech. I forgot his name.

[Toa of Dancing]

OOC: Runar. As he's an NPC, I'll let you hold the conversation. I don't want to abuse him. I assume he would know, though.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
Ketarn's eyes drifted away from Gauvik and and Brithlin and turned - rather deliberately downwards - towards the dwarf.

"Truly sorry, I'm afraid I'm using all of those, and quite particularly attached to one in particular. But trust me, if I ever feel the need to part with them I'll be sure to let you now," he said to Birodor. "Still... it is impressive - admirable, even - that you feel confident to make such claims by surrounded by close to half a dozen heavily armed, bloodthirsty murderers."

He gave a quick glance towards his gathered party.

"I do apologize for that, but there really isn't a better name for what you folks do."

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 06 2011 - 09:25 PM.

[Toa of Dancing]

Birodor/With Gauvik, Ketarn, and Brithlin\IC:

"Your brains must be addled. I see six of you wonderful people and two wimpy goody-two-shoes. Besides, I have power to back me up. Get on my nerves and I'll force you to part with one of those beloved attributes to your 'obvious royal superiority.' I might do it for fun. Want to have a go?" replied Birodor, a bloodthirsty smile wide upon his hidden face.

[Toast of Awesomeness]

OOc: Go ahead, I don't like talking to myself.

Bout halfway done with my Royal, even though he's not actually royal. XD

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
"As much fun as that sounds, I did not come all this way just to get into a quarrel with some vertically-challenged thug who goes to the single largest assessment of riches in the know world to commit a simple robbery," said Ketarn. "I should hope not to see you again, but somehow I doubt I'll have that pleasure."

He stepped towards the doors of the Refectory, making a motion for his guardsmen to follow.

[For Science!]

[Toa of Dancing]

Birodor/Following Ketarn into the Refectory\IC:

Birodor considered lopping off the man's head right there, but decided it might be wise to have this seemingly rich guy on his side. Thus, he simply walked with Ketarn, jabbering onwards in his bragging but truthful voice. "I don't steal. I murder, then keep the possessions as their new rightful owner... That ring is dwarfish. How long have you had it?"

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
"Oh... You're still here. Marvelous," said Ketarn with a disparaging glance downwards. "This? Oh.. perhaps three years. It's hard to say, dear Orbek has brought me so many dwarven trinkets over the years I can barely keep track, and I can't help but notice you're still following me. Yes, you're most definitely still following me. Care to explain why?"

[For Science!]

[Toa of Dancing]

Birodor/Entering Refectory\IC:

Ignoring the question entirely, Birodor was unable to contain his rage at what Ketarn said. "He... gave them to you? WHAT KIND OF DWARF GIVES HIS POSSESSIONS TO A HUMAN?!" he roared, rounding upon Orbek and swinging his axe to behead the dwarf.

[Toast of Awesomeness]

OOC: ...Wrong topic. XD

Edited by Toast of Awesomeness, Nov 06 2011 - 10:34 PM.

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
Orbek raised his hammer to defend himself the heavy stone weapon halting the axe blade. Ketarn's entourage leapt into action; Rusk twirled his hook-blades, attempting to snatch the weapon from Birodor with one and slash at his face with the other, while mages Adela and Krunn waited, staves crackling with arcane power, to blast the dwarf at the first clear moment. Gauvik watched with impassive eyes. He neither knew nor liked either side; provided they didn't try to drag him into this he had no problem with them killing each other.

"NOBODY MOVE!"

The entourage froze; it was perfectly up to Birodor to do the same, but it was likely the others would resume their assault if he did. Ketarn's voice boomed like thunder as he stepped into the fray, taking a moment to adjust his composure before approaching the dwarves.

"Now, now, there's no need to quarrel. I'd much rather not have you as an enemy; I'm not sure I'd like you as a friend either, but I'm not one to fight battles I could more easily avoid," he said, tone returning to normal levels. "If Orbek and I have a mutual arrangement, I don't quite believe that's your concern. I'm sure there some dwarven custom or ritual you feel has been broken here but frankly, I don't particularly care beyond the fact it's driving you to attack persons in my employ. Besides... a self-professed murderer isn't exactly the sort to accuse another of dishonor, am I wrong?"

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 07 2011 - 02:13 AM.

[Toast of Awesomeness]

OOC: Last guy!

Username: ToA
Name: Altar al' Magrehn
Age: 24
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class: Royal(Kinda... )
Equipment: An enchanted scimitar that always stays sharp and will always return to his hand if lost or thrown, as well as the pendant which controls Kurisimos.
Appearance: Altar has darkly tanned skin from living in the desert, and short black hair. He's got dark brown, almost black eyes, and is well muscled. He stands about 6'2, and wears brown leather clothing as well as a hood/scarf made from a long piece of fabric wrapped around his head. A stylized tattoo of a jackal's head is on his left shoulder.
Personality: Altar has a good sense of right and wrong, and will break any law he sees as unjust. He's chivalrous, and will go out of his way to protect a woman. He's an overall good guy, but like all the treasure hunters, he wants the treasure that lies inside Salas-Grimna's fortress.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Bio: Altar was a desert nomad whose village was being terrorized by Kurisimos, the desert god of scorpions. Altar and a group of his companions headed out into the desert to fight Kurisimos, but found the god to be too powerful. The others were quickly killed, and Altar cried out to Anubis, the god of death, for aid.

Anubis answered him. The god said that he would bestow upon Altar a magical scimitar that would always return to him and never grow dull, the protection of the Anubites, and, most importantly, a scorpion pendant that would enable him to capture Kurisimos- for a price. When Altar died, he would serve Anubis as his undead champion for eternity. Desperate to save his village, Altar agreed, and used the pendant to trap Kurisimos. With the magical scimitar, his two powerful bodyguards, and a god under his control, Altar set off into the desert.
He met up with his uncle, Sheik Sulimun, a Djinn sorcerer, and stayed with the Sheik and his son for two years, traveling through the desert. A week ago, they heard about Salas-Grimna's fortress, and have decided to seek the treasure within.

While Altar has a good heart and a powerful entourage, by himself he's a fairly hopeless fighter, though he is improving.

Entourage- Hadi and Chokne, two nine foot tall Champion Anubites

Sheik Sulimun, a Djinn Mage, and his son Anwar, a Djinn fighter.

Kurisimos, the god of scorpions. As a result of being trapped, Kurisimos has lost many of his godly abilities. He is still stronger than any man, able to summon a giant scorpion, a superb fighter, and able to assume a half-scorpion, half-man form for combat. However, his other, more powerful abilities are unusable. Due to being trapped in the pendant, he hates Altar, and works against him when he's able, like finding loopholes in orders he's given. He's very bad-tempered and unpredictable, and if the glass pendant was shattered, freeing him, he'd turn on Altar and his friends and kill them all in a heartbeat.

Race: Djinn
Physical Description: Djinn are created when desert sorcerers replace their bodies with sand, rock, and ash, using magic to keep themselves living. They're basically spirits inhabiting a false body, They appear as desert nomads with rock skin, and are all very magically skilled. They specialize in the use of a unique blue fire which can both heal and harm, as well as desert magic. Their hearts glow blue and are exposed in their chests between their rocky ribs. This is the source of their magical power, and a Djinn can detonate his or her heart in powerful, though suicidal, explosion.
Pic

Traits: Rock bodies, great magical power, able to rebuild their bodies from damage.
Homeland: The Aran Desert, located in the southwest of the continent.

Race: Anubite
Physical Description: Anubites are nine foot tall humanoids with the heads of jackals. They have clawed hands and feet, and their legs bend backward like those of a dog. They are incredibly fast and strong, befitting their size, and have senses above those of any human. Their greatest ability, however, is that they can only be killed through decapitation(at which point they would dissolve into black sand). They will heal from any other wound very quickly, though missing limbs take a while and they will disable them for a while. To fight, they use bladed spear/axe pole arm weapons. Anubites are incapable of speech, and can only make doglike noises.
Pic

Traits: Large size, superhuman sense and athletic skills, can only be killed through decapitation, claws and teeth.
Homeland: the Underworld

Edited by Toast of Awesomeness, Nov 07 2011 - 10:44 PM.

[Lord of Adders Black]

OOC: The idea behind royals having NPCs in an entourage is that its to compensate for their own relative lack of experience. Having your guy be an experienced warrior already kind of misses the point

[Toa of Dancing]

Birodor/Outside Refectory\IC:

Birodor had his axe in the air, ready to bring it down with an earth-shattering quake. However, as the fight stopped as quickly as it had begun, and it would only be polite to answer before killing, he obliged. Keeping his axe in a defensive position, he said, "There's a difference between murder and betraying one's own race. The former is fun, the latter is the ultimate height of dishonor. Dwarfish gems and dwarfish jewelry belong only to dwarfs. Now, if we may continue, I'll be busy killing this Orbek and any of you that gets in the way. So I suggest you back up or die."

[Toast of Awesomeness]

OOC: Okay, so if I take away his skills?

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
Ketarn stroked his beard, ponderous. He gave a look towards Orbek.

"So, what do you think?" he asked. "Are his terms acceptable?"

"Personally, sir, I'd rather nah' be dead," Orbek grunted, hands clasped around his hammer. "What's it matter to me wha' some blasted dwarf customs say I can an' can't trade?""

Ketarn turned back to Birodor, solemnly shaking his head.

"Well, I'm afraid he just won't agree to your terms. You'll have to make a better offer than that, or else these negotiations will just go nowhere," Ketarn said. "Now, look, I really don't want to have to kill you, and I assume you don't want me do that either. There's nothing to be gained from your death, so I'd prefer to avoid the pointless bloodshed. But if you choose to attack dear Orbek, I'm afraid there are only two possible outcomes. You will either fail and die or, should you succeed, you'll have made an enemy of me and I will be forced to deal with you appropriately.

"So you see, you really have the most to lose here, should you choose to go through with this course of action. With that in mind, I'm sure we can reach an arrangement agreeable to both parties, can we not?"

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 07 2011 - 10:51 AM.

[Toa of Dancing]

OOC: I've decided to give him an accent. XD

Birodor/Outside Refectory\IC:

"...Trade, said ye? I was under the impression that ye gave 'im the ring. In the case of tradin', well, he can wear the bleedin' thing. As long as 'is heir returns it, o' course. Now that we 'have that 'ole situation out o' the way, we can be civilized and speak o' how many goody-two-shoes we've kill't lately," replied Birodor, with a slight sound of disappointment evident at first, and then a perk at the end.

[Lord of Adders Black]

OOC: Okay, so if I take away his skills?

Yeah, just make him less like the Scorpion King and you're good to go

[Chronicler of Ko-Koro]

IC:
"Orbek and I have an arrangement, I believe I said so when you went into your little 'head-chopping' mood. He provides me with goods and services, I extend a certain level of protection to him. We've both getting something out of the deal; I do believe that would qualify as a 'trade,'" said Ketarn. "And yes, you bloody dwarves can have the things back when I'm dead, what use would I have for it then? Not that I intend to do that for many, many years, so don't get your hopes up."

He moved back up the steps to the Refectory, the members of his party following to join them. Orbek shot an angry glance on his way up towards Birodor; nearly getting beheaded was not a matter most people forgave easily.

"Now, I'm sure you have many interesting stories of murder and mutilation, and I'm sure I'll hear them at length over the next few weeks whether I like them or not, but now is simply not the time," he said, letting the double doors swing wide. "I'd like to get a grasp of just where I'm apparently expected to inhabit for the next few days, then perhaps I'll finally get some blasted rest. As I've said, it's been a long journey."

He gave one last glance across the rain-soaked road towards where Gauvik and Brithlin were still watching. Gauvik was still as a statue, hands resting firmly on the handle of his axe, unblinking eyes glowing a faint blue even in the dark.

"Oh... and thanks for stepping in so heroically when threats of murder were being tossed about," Ketarn said to them as he stepped into the warm, dry hall, the doors swinging shut slowly behind him. "Truly, you are both outstanding members of your respective communities."

[For Science!]

Edited by Chronicler of Ko-Koro, Nov 07 2011 - 06:41 PM.

[Toa of Dancing]

Birodor/Refectory\IC:

"Well then, be seein' you. Expect me t' be the firs' t' sign up if ye create a party, ye *******," said Birodor as he walked away from Ketarn and his group, straight to the bar. Slamming down a pouch of gold, he demanded, "Give me all the finest grog that this'll pay for, or ye'll be lookin' up at yer body."

Brithlin/Outside Refectory\IC:

Brithlin had, in fact, been ready with his violin, but to protect himself and Gauvik. He could honestly care less about the scum, for the world would be better off without them. "They weren't worth saving, in any case, Gauvik. Ignore the taunts of the wicked, and remember the peaceful cheer of goodness."



OOC: Anyone else for skipping to morning to get this moving?