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| The Quest for the Lost God; Chapter One: The Heroes of All World | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 20 2011, 03:36 PM (2,469 Views) | |
| Darkom | Aug 1 2011, 03:34 PM Post #21 |
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Philosophizer
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The Throne Room of Castle Sunkeep; Mid-Morning, March 1st, 1066 AL Richard nodded at the Tsydra's response. The Sea Elves were not an expressive folk; he hadn't expected much more. Her skills would be useful for the journey ahead, however; the king was glad the Tsydra had sent her, and the ship they planned to use. He was preparing a response- the Tsydra had told little of their plight, and he was eager to hear more- when two of the men began bickering. The first- another Atlesian, thought he seemed little proud of his homeland- thanked the king courteously. 'Quite an understatement,' the king thought, wondering how little Atlas had told their people of the situation. The other man- the scholar that had asked the king so simply about the, quite literal, deadline- retorted, apparently in favor of the ambitious kingdom. The first Atlesian responded just as hotly. The king himself had mixed feelings about the exchange. Disagreements were a luxury these men could not afford, but at least one knew the extent of their peril. Richard shook his head, dismissing the argument, before looking back to the rest of the group. "Sir, I do have one question I would like to ask, if you'd be so kind as to answer," another blonde man began, his tone respectful as he addressed the king. "What prompts us to search towards the east for the goddess in the first place? I know you said that the Duke shall have more to tell us, but be honest, if you can. Do we have a location in mind? Or is this a blind search?" Richard frowned, his sun tanned face falling behind his beard. He had known one of them would ask this, but the answer he must give was no less disheartening for it. The king stepped towards the tall Sartherian- his accent was thin, the island kingdom's dialect similar to Richard's own, but placeable nonetheless- and placed a hand on his shouler. The two men stood eye to eye as the king spoke, something few southerners could claim to. "You do not search for the Goddess, my boy. No mortal man knows where She has retreated to. The being you seek is an entirely different sort, a god lost to the ravages of time, forgotten by man. Lord Chaucer knows more of it than I, but He was apparently the same god that saved humanity the last time Darkness threatened us so. It is our hope He may do so once more." The king paused, removing his hand from the young man's shoulder, and looked towards the rest of the party. "As to your destination, I wish I could give you a point on the map, but even the Tsydra's knowledge does not go so far." Richard glanced to the elven woman, softening slightly at her cold blue eyes. "I am afraid all I know is your heading; once you reach the jungles of the Medra you are on your own. Perhaps they will know more; perhaps a miracle might save us and point the way," the king joked. His expression fell agains swiftly, however, his tone returning to its ominous timbre. "This is not a task to be undertaken lightly, my friends, but it is one of paramount importance." He glanced around for a moment, letting his words sink in. He had not become king without a good number of speeches; by now he styled himself an orator. "Nor is it without its rewards," the king began again, smiling once more. "We do not ask you to do this for nothing, of course. When you return successful," Richard refused to consider the alternative, "You shall recieve every glory and honor it is within my power to bestow. I do not take you for greedy men, or mercenaries, by any use of the word, but it is only fitting you be rewarded. The thought may just prove uplifting when your quest seems difficult." The king looked around, his words growing faster in his excitement; he may not be journeying with the heroes himself, but this was something it was within his power to do. "Gold, titles, land; all await you upon your return. And let us not forget, every soul in the known world shall be in debt to you. Your names shall be spoken at every hearth and hall of the Golden Kingdoms; lord and peasant alike will kneel before you. Speaking of," the king paused, his eyes aglow with mirth, a ruddy smile behind his beard, "I don't believe I ever caught the names of the heroes of All World." OOC: Respond how you will, this is just something to get everyone's name out so we don't have to refer to each other by descriptions. After this, if there are no more questions, we'll be headed to the teleportation room and off to Wellay, so voice any more comments now. And again, side conversations are welcome, arguments especially. If you see someone needing to post, please include an address to them in your own post, just to give them something to respond to. It'll make things easier on all of us. Thanks.Also, page two! Keep it up!
Edited by Darkom, Aug 1 2011, 03:35 PM.
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| Don't say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream. ~Mark Twain | |
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| Duke Smugleaf | Aug 1 2011, 06:22 PM Post #22 |
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Celestial Princess
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Since she had no questions for the king as she knew he wouldn't be of much use in answering them anyways, Victoria didn't bother speaking for the duration of their visit, preferring to let the others do that, themselves. As she expected, of course, the king didn't reveal much in the way of new information. Perhaps this "Lord Chaucer" would have something of interest to say. She figured that someone of the scholarly sort, as he seemed to be, would be able to provide real knowledge, as opposed to a puppet of a king. However, when he asked for names, Victoria decided to at least respond to his request. Before anyone could respond, their minds were suddenly filled with a foreign entity as Victoria telepathically spoke to everyone in the room. My name is Victoria Ambrose of Berekell City on the island of Sheodin. Anything more than that, you do not need to know at this time. |
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| James | Aug 1 2011, 08:43 PM Post #23 |
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Caffeinated
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Wayne shock his head and glanced around before his eyes settled on the floating women, that would explain that he thought to himself then realized that if she had been speaking into his brain had she read his thoughts back? Wait is she reading my thoughts now he began to panic, there were things in his head he did not want to get out, not even to himself. Hmm... The floating woman is not half - he cut himself off mid-thought, just in case she was in fact reading minds. Hoping to move on quickly he responded to the king, "I'm Wayne Manning; of where ever there is wine, women, and song" Edit: I bastardized the comma beyond any redemption Edited by James, Aug 1 2011, 08:44 PM.
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| Number of Poems Written in the name of roleplaying, count: 1 | |
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| Colonel Mustard | Aug 1 2011, 09:23 PM Post #24 |
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Lord of Facial Hair
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Damn you, James. Damn you... IC: The names were a fair request, and the introduction of the flighty looking young man with the stink of mischief about him was nothing special. The floating girl, however, spoke through their minds. He wondered, quietly, if she might have been one of the Kriem, before he remembered that order had died millenia before. It was not inconcievable that she had their powers. He could respect that, however; the Kriem guilds were dangerous forces, though they had been too caught up in Disolthrem's politics for his liking. This girl, however, with her open flaunting of her might, did not strike him as that sort. However, he would answer this king's question, even if the man was responsible for the perversion of the creed of the Goddess. As ceremony demanded, he slammed the butt of his glaive into the ground and announced; "You may name me Duhos Oregember, First of the Oregember of Disolthrem." |
| "Pillage, then burn."-Rule 1 of Habits of Highly Effective Pirates | |
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| Ambrose51 | Aug 1 2011, 10:47 PM Post #25 |
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The Resident Horror Enthusiast
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Matthew flinched visibly, as if struck, when the floating woman spoke into his mind. One thing he absolutely loathed were magic users that interfered with the mind. The mind was a sacred place, after all, and the very thought that someone might be reading his thoughts made him nearly physically ill, for a variety of reasons. He would have to pay very close attention to the floating woman in the future, and be very careful in his interactions with her. To have her possibly intrude on his mind would be completely unacceptable, both for personal reasons, and due to the training instilled within him. Nevertheless, he took a few moments to compose himself, during which his fellow Atlesian and the sentient construct introduced themselves. Once they were done, he spoke up himself. "My name is Matthew Jenning. I am a mage of little notoriety from the town of Lear, in the Atlesian Empire, specializing in... Destructive forces. Though I may not seem like much on the first impression, I assure you that I am completely competent in that art." His voice, though wavering slightly from his earlier emotional slip, hardened and returned to his normal, neutral tone by the time he was finished speaking. He ran a hand through his hair before waiting for the others to speak, once more comfortable in his pleasant mask of civility, slight smile included. |
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But mostly? The assorted plans at play here would be going very, very wrong due to the actions of a no-name, no-count, utterly talentless Magus by the name of Shirou Emiya. He had no magic worth mentioning, no combat experience of note, and no plan for or knowledge of the War he was about to enter. He did, however, have one trait that had derailed a countless number of such grand, far-reaching schemes throughout history. You see, he really, really wanted to be a hero. -(Best description of the start of a Fate novel ever.) | |
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| Half Tooth | Aug 2 2011, 12:59 PM Post #26 |
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Painter
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Scylliria stared blankly at the floating woman who adressed them all mentally and revealed her name to be Victoria. Like any Tsydra, her expression showed nothing of the panic and annoyance she felt at having her mind invaded. She was unsure if Victoria could only project thoughts or if she could recieve them too but decided to respond in kind anyway. Get out. She turned her attention to the rest of the group who were introducing themselves and she noted the incredible mixture of people that had put themselves forward for this task. It was surprising someone from Atlas had showed up at all. And she wondered at all why Wayne was even here, since he had just announced to a group of people that he enjoyed women, drinking and singing. Why would someone like that put themselves forwards for this? She realised it was probably her turn to speak. "My land name is Scylliria Aeori, I am here on behalf of the Tysdra. I seek to return our ancestors to the sea." She spoke shortly an clearly so as not to speak for any longer than she needed to. |
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| Evilpigeon | Aug 2 2011, 02:48 PM Post #27 |
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Apprentice
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My name is Victoria Ambrose of Berekell City on the island of Sheodin. Anything more than that, you do not need to know at this time. A third voice? The sensation was new yet familiar, a reminder that brought to the fore another discomfort, one that had been with her for years. Celaia had almost forgotten that she could feel Skoll. That faint itch inside her skull had faded into the background as she became used to his presence. She could feel him now though, like a lingering afterimage from Victoria’s more forceful intrusion. Downright intrusive, invading people’s minds like that “Dislike the competition?” Skoll was irritating at the best of times but right now Celaia could feel his every word like sandpaper rubbing against her mind. Perhaps that was the reason for the hurt silence that followed her comment or perhaps it was because the manipulative bastard knew that his quiet expressed the idea that his habitation was different far better than any words could. In any case, it was enough to make Celaia feel like she could set things alight by touch alone. She stood there, seething as others made introductions, trying hard to internalise her emotion. If her tail should lash out… Then what? Probably nothing she realised. She’d appraised her companions to be before but not in this light. She was to travel with a Golem, a Tsydra, two Atlesians and a woman who, so far as Celaia knew could be a mute were it not for her powers. None of them were exactly normal. “Freaks and misfits, off to save a world that does not belong to them.” The idea was enough to transition her from anger to bitterness. So the creator was gone, Celaia had felt no change in her life, nor that of her masters. Things had gone on, just as before except, or if any change had occurred then it had been in the escalation of the vehemence and outspoken fervour of the order’s beliefs. Celaia had been told many times that her condition was the Goddess’s punishment for past wickedness, she had been abandoned and now it seemed that everyone else had as well. What was she doing here? Why had it fallen to her to risk her life to save the world from darkness, to save those who would lynch her were it not for the Priestess’s robe that hid her features from view. She stared hard at the floor as if trying to force a reply from it. The one she received was both simple and unsatisfactory: “You were ordered to” It went without saying that the orders of her supe- Freaks and misfits eh? I don’t think they’re going to be very happy about that. Celaia’s head shot up, accompanied by a laugh, an octave too high. She'd said that aloud!? The stares were practically tangible, she shrank, even more conscious than usual of what lay beneath her robes. “I, uhm” She restarted, eyes unfocused, reciting the response she’d been given. “My name is Celaia, I have been sent her to represent the Order of Divine Light on this journey, it is an honour to meet all of you, especially you my liege.” She lowered her eyes to the floor again, fighting the urge to flee. Edited by Evilpigeon, Aug 4 2011, 01:01 AM.
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| Whoever said nothing was impossible never tried to slam a revolving door | |
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| quirk | Aug 2 2011, 08:59 PM Post #28 |
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Apprentice
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When he heard Victoria's voice go through his head, James jumped a bit at the rather odd sensation of this form of communication. He had expected mages of fire and lightning, sure, but not this psychic woman who seemed to suspend herself in the air without thinking of it. Though she was not the oddest hero present, seeing as how Duhos was made of stone. Though, to be fair, Duhos seemed a bit easier to get along with than Victoria at this time. "I am James Green, of the nation of Sartheria. I must say, it is a pleasure for one who has been a student most his life to be around such extraordinary individuals as yourselves. I hope I make myself worthy of your presence, and I plan to pull my weight as well as I can." After saying this, unsure how to best follow it up, he took what was left of his biscuit, still in his left hand, and took a careful bite of it. |
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| Crimson Paladin | Aug 3 2011, 05:58 PM Post #29 |
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Novice
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Castle Sunkeep. Hard to believe I've served the Church for over ten years now yet I've never actually been here. The armored figure strode towards the gates. The journey to Sunkeep had not been particularly difficult, and provided for some much-needed alone time. Fortunately, there had been plenty of things to think about. The Goddess's departure. The circumstances that led up to it. The Lord of the Dark's progress. The mission at hand. The Order's mistakes. His own mistakes and shortcomings. There was so much going on in the world, and much of it very bad and steadily growing worse. This was a chance, provided it wasn't a fool's errand, to reverse that trend. As he approached the gates, the guards, one of whom seemed to be holding his pants up. One of them spoke. "Hail, Paladin. Are you here to get into the meeting?" "Yes I am. May I enter?" "Before you enter, we will need proof of skill." The guard didn't sound very enthusiastic. Proof of skill? I guess they require tangible proof that I am who I say I am. But a corona shield may leave burn marks on the ground. I suppose I'll have to make due with the next best thing. Garnier began to speak an incantation. A few seconds later, his body was surrounded by a yellow glowing barrier. "If you want, you can try to hit me." "No, that's sufficient. Go on in." The guards didn't sound very eager to test his worthiness. It might be because he wore the trappings of an Exalted Brother of the Paladins of the Holy Order of the Sun. It might also just be that other heroes already arrived and the guards were simply tired of testing the people. As he walked through the gates, Garnier turned back towards the guards. "If you wish, I can restore your energy..." "No, no, that'd just make it more difficult to sleep when our my shift ends. You better get in there, I believe you may be late." What? Late? Of all the times to be late, this has to be one of the worst. The paladin, now almost frantic, ran through the courtyard, into the main hall. Nobody here, they must be elsewhere. But it sounds like there are people in the throne room. The paladin ran up to the throne room door, slowing to a stop at the entrance. He opened the door and walked in. Sure enough, there was the king, a knight, and an odd group assembled. A floating woman, a sea elf, and..was that a golem? Garnier raised his sallet visor and took a few steps forward from the doorway, not speaking, rather waiting to be addressed. He had no idea what was going on, hopefully somebody would fill him in. Edited by Crimson Paladin, Aug 3 2011, 06:00 PM.
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The stone cannot know why the chisel cleaves it; the iron cannot know why the fire scorches it. When thy life is cleft and scorched, when death and despair leap at thee, beat not thy breast and curse thy evil fate, but thank the Builder for the trials that shape thee. -The Hammer Book of Tenets | |
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| Darkom | Aug 4 2011, 02:31 PM Post #30 |
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Philosophizer
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The Throne Room of Castle Sunkeep; Mid-Morning, March 1st, 1066 AL The king looked expectantly about the room, waiting for the first person to introduce themselves. To his surprise, however, the first voice he heard was not a physical one. My name is Victoria Ambrose of Berekell City on the island of Sheodin. Anything more than that, you do not need to know at this time. Richard's eyes, along with the rest of the groups', went straight to the floating woman. 'Using telepathy? On me?' The king thought angrily, scowling at the woman's blank expression. He did not trust her, but her skills made her presence a necessity, it would seem. They would need all the help they could get. The king dismissed the woman- 'Victoria,' he thought, making a note of the name- and fixed his gaze on the next hero to speak. The gaunt Atlesian, who had spoken so ill of his country, had chosen not to name himself by it. 'Interesting,' the king thought, nodding at the man. 'Manning, eh? Could it be... No, Lord Aldrich would never let his son become a simple bard. Certainly not...' Before Richard could ask the man of his parentage, a sudden thud echoed around the hall. The living stone had slammed the butt of his staff on the floor, following it with his deep, rumbling voice. "You may name me Duhos Oregember, First of the Oregember of Disolthrem." The king answered the golem with another nod, wondering at the thing's title. 'Disolthrem? Even I have never heard of such a place. Perhaps Chaucer will know; if not, poor Duhos will be assaulted by questions. Then again, he probably will be put under the duke's interrogation regardless.' After the golem the handsome Atlesian spoke, running a thin hand through his blonde locks. His introduction seemed more a matter of business than a greeting, cold and impassioned as it was. The man seemed perfectly ordinary, but something about him set the king on edge. 'Destruction is a dangerous field of magic. Most men do not leave it with their whole mind intact.' The next to speak was the Tsydra woman, her soft flowing accent clipping off sharply. 'All business; I'm surprised she hasn't tried to strike a trading deal.' The king chuckled at this; most of the elven diplomats he dealt with were merchants first and statesmen second. “Freaks and misfits, off to save a world that does not belong to them.” The king turned, startled, to the hooded woman that had spoken. She stared onward blankly, as though she hadn't spoken at all, but the voice had come from no one else. 'A priestess, speaking out like that!' Finally, her eyes focused, a nervous laugh chittering out from beneath her white hood. She shrank back visibly, drawing her face further back, casting it in shadow despite the room's light. "I, uhm," she began weakly, before settling into a mechanical introduction. “My name is Celaia, I have been sent her to represent the Order of Divine Light on this journey, it is an honour to meet all of you, especially you my liege.” The king nodded at the woman, his eyes softening. 'Poor thing,' he thought, a pitious smile spreading across his long features, 'Must be scared to death. Hopefully she is stronger than she looks; the Order is full of surprises, afterall.' Richard listened politely to the tall Sartherian, nodding as he finished. 'A student? Looks more like a soldier to me, though the Sartherians make little distinction. Probably an officer of some kind.' The king looked around, checking to make sure each of the heroes had given their name, listing them off as he went. 'Hopefully Gerald was listening as well; it would not do to give honor to the wrong name.' His easy smile in place, the king nodded to them all one last time, offering a small bow to each. "Names that shall go down in history, I am sure. Thank you all for answering the call of your Church, and carrying the hope of your people. It is my honor, nay, my pleasure to have a part in the story you shall craft. Saving the world," the king paused, his smile widening, "It should prove quite a tale. Fitting that you have a bard to record it then, eh?" The king chuckled, raising one graying eyebrow at Wayne. "Manning, was it? Of Atlas?" Richard continued, stepping closer to the thin man. "Surely you are not related to Lord Aldrich Manning, general of the Atlesian Empire?" Before the boy could answer, however, Richard heard a cough from the side of the room. Gerald, his steward, silent until now, caught his eye. The prim servant pointed towards the door with one gloved hand, bowing as he did so. The king turned his eyes to the open entryway, and- surely enough- a figure stood there, dressed in full battle armor. 'A knight? Just what this party was missing.' The king sidestepped the group, striding towards the knight, his golden robed arms thrown open in welcome. "Greetings, my Brother. You have shown up just in time; we just finished introductions." Richard laughed, bowing his crowned head to the knight briefly. "You have come to serve the Light, correct? To brave the unknown, to fight against the Darkness, for the sake of all creation?" 'Always one for the dramatic,' Gerald thought, rolling his eyes at his liege's antics. OOC: Sorry if that was a tad awkward, Edited by Darkom, Aug 5 2011, 09:57 PM.
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| Don't say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream. ~Mark Twain | |
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| Crimson Paladin | Aug 4 2011, 11:26 PM Post #31 |
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Novice
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"Names that shall go down in history, I am sure. Thank you all for answering the call of your Church, and carrying the hope of your people. It is my honor, nay, my pleasure to have a part in the story you shall craft. Saving the world. It should prove quite a tale. Fitting that you have a bard to record it then, eh?" I'm definitely in the right place. The king approached one of the others. "Manning, was it? Of Atlas? Surely you are not related to Lord Aldrich Manning, general of the Atlesian Empire?" An Atlesian? I wonder if this means if... Garnier's contemplation was broken when a servant signaled the king of the paladin's arrival. The king walked straight towards him. "Greetings, my Brother. You have shown up just in time; we just finished introductions. You have come to serve the Light, correct? To brave the unknown, to fight against the Darkness, for the sake of all creation?" Garnier removed helmet and bowed. "Correct, Father of the Church. On behalf of the Holy Order of the Sun, I am here to serve." To him, this man was more than just King of Sunkeep; he was the head of the faith. |
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The stone cannot know why the chisel cleaves it; the iron cannot know why the fire scorches it. When thy life is cleft and scorched, when death and despair leap at thee, beat not thy breast and curse thy evil fate, but thank the Builder for the trials that shape thee. -The Hammer Book of Tenets | |
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| quirk | Aug 7 2011, 02:15 AM Post #32 |
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Apprentice
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James made a small sound from his throat, somewhere between a grunt and a snort. His opinion of paladins and their like was none too high. He saw them as little more than mercenaries for the church. At the very least this Celaia gave the appearance of some sort of monk or priestess, though her slight outburst implied some sort of disturbance. However, this man was a warrior, a killer, like any other, yet would attempt to dispel any sort of images by the name paladin. It may not have been a choice of his, and it very well might not be something Garnier had never thought of, but that, to James, made him little more than a blind follower of the corrupt authority that was the church. Shaking away such thoughts, he walked over to Garnier and held out his hand, smiling. "Hello, sir," he said. "I suppose you'll need to know our names again. I'm James Green, of Sartheria. Pleasure to meet you." |
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| James | Aug 8 2011, 03:29 AM Post #33 |
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Caffeinated
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Wayne looked at the newcomer; obviously an armed servant of the church, and not too crazy by first appearance , Wayne mused to himself, hopefully he will be stabilizing . He approached openly and warmly with a genuine smile, glad that his company was getting progressively less terrifying. “Hello,” he began with a grin, offering his hand like he would to an old friend, “I’m Wayne,” he began, “Wayne Manning” he glanced over his last name as if trying to move past it without lingering. “I’m here to compose the inevitable fables of our glory,” he continued, half-jokingly, “what might be your name, I need to know in order to think of appropriate rhymes when bard everywhere sing of your exploits”. |
| Number of Poems Written in the name of roleplaying, count: 1 | |
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| Crimson Paladin | Aug 8 2011, 05:45 AM Post #34 |
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Novice
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As Garnier finished his introduction to the king, one of the other guests approached him. The man, clearly a soldier, smiled and extended his hand. "Hello, sir, I suppose you'll need to know our names again. I'm James Green, of Sartheria. Pleasure to meet you." He seems a decent fellow. And he deserves an answer. Garnier extended his own hand and shook. I hope that's what he wanted, I know some soldiers and knights prefer to grasp each other's cuffs instead of their hands. Most soldiers I've worked with don't need such confirmation from a paladin, but there's always a few that distrust us. Before the paladin could give his response, the Atlesian approached. The man did not look very dangerous, but the fact that he got past the guards meant there was more to him than meets the eye. "Hello. I'm Wayne. Wayne Manning. I'm here to compose the inevitable fables of our glory, what might be your name, I need to know in order to think of appropriate rhymes when bard everywhere sing of your exploits." So, he's a minstrel. Atlas definitely didn't send him. In his experience, bards tended to be passion-driven individuals; chaotic and indulgent. On the other hand, they tended to be charismatic and persuasive, traits which could benefit the group greatly. The paladin shook the man's hand and gave his reply. "I am," he hesitated for a moment, still somewhat uncomfortable with his title, "Exalted Brother Garnier, Paladin of the Holy Order of the Sun." Between having been raised on the virtues of humility and his uncertainties about his own worthiness, he often found it difficult to announce his own title to others. |
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The stone cannot know why the chisel cleaves it; the iron cannot know why the fire scorches it. When thy life is cleft and scorched, when death and despair leap at thee, beat not thy breast and curse thy evil fate, but thank the Builder for the trials that shape thee. -The Hammer Book of Tenets | |
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| Duke Smugleaf | Aug 8 2011, 04:27 PM Post #35 |
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Celestial Princess
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Even without her powers, Victoria could feel an almost palpable sense of unease from this "Exalted Brother" who had just walked in. Whoever he was, one thing was certain: He wasn't particularly good at hiding his emotions, especially considering some of the others here, like that girl, Celaia. Victoria wanted to know her story. Seeing as how the group was apparently going through introductions again for the sake of this latecomer, Victora decided that she may as well throw in, as well, lest she be thought of as "rude." After looking directly at Garnier for several seconds, she sent a telepathic message into his mind, My name is Victoria Ambrose. You should really learn to manage your time better. I do not like repeating myself. After a brief pause, she continued, I would also like to add, if you are so filled with self-doubt, then why did you even bother to show up? Turning away, Victoria looked off in no particular direction, contemplating the gathered crowd of assorted "heroes" and whether or not they really stood a chance at succeeding, her stone cold face betraying no emotion as she levitated motionless in the air. |
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| Ambrose51 | Aug 9 2011, 09:22 PM Post #36 |
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The Resident Horror Enthusiast
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Matthew internally rolled his eyes at the reintroductions. As a man that prided himself on always being on time, having someone interrupt by being late was almost offensive, especially considering how important their quest was. If someone couldn't even be careful enough to arrive in a timely fashion, that said little about their reliability in other matters, as far as Matthew was concerned, no matter how close the paladin had been to being on time. The fact that he was a paladin was another point of annoyance to Matthew. Just having one member of the Church on the mission was bad enough, but having two? Atlas always preached that the Church was wrong in its beliefs, and that they were blasphemous in their corruption, at best. Add to that that Matthew practiced a form of magic that would probably be... Frowned upon by the more conservative groups within the Church, and he had absolutely no reason to look forward to the journey as long as the Church representatives were in his company. The woman, especially, was troubling. There was something about her that set him ill at ease, and not simply her strange introduction. Anyone that gave him a bad feeling was one to watch, definitely. Eventually, he turned towards the paladin to make his own reintroduction, being very careful to hide his distaste for the Church with a neutral expression and tone as he spoke, "Good day, Exalted Brother Garnier. My name is Matthew Jenning. As a mage from Atlas, I hope there will be no distrust between us. With a paladin of the Church in our group to complement the assembled people here, I'm sure our journey will go far smoother, wouldn't you say?" Matthew even managed to give a small smile at the end of his question, extending his right hand for a handshake. The very last thing he wanted to do was make an enemy of the paladin before the quest had even started, after all. OOC: Crap post is crap, but I'm distracted by finals, so I'm amazed I could pull myself away from studying to write even this. |
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But mostly? The assorted plans at play here would be going very, very wrong due to the actions of a no-name, no-count, utterly talentless Magus by the name of Shirou Emiya. He had no magic worth mentioning, no combat experience of note, and no plan for or knowledge of the War he was about to enter. He did, however, have one trait that had derailed a countless number of such grand, far-reaching schemes throughout history. You see, he really, really wanted to be a hero. -(Best description of the start of a Fate novel ever.) | |
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| Crimson Paladin | Aug 10 2011, 11:53 AM Post #37 |
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Novice
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OOC: I hope I'm not posting too frequently. Seemingly out of nowhere, a voice entered Garnier's head. My name is Victoria Ambrose. You should really learn to manage your time better. I do not like repeating myself. A psion? Here? His eyes scanned the room, quickly falling upon the floating woman seemingly staring at him. Before he could say or think anything, the woman's voice returned. I would also like to add, if you are so filled with self-doubt, then why did you even bother to show up? The woman turned her gaze away, probably to read the mind of another. Nonetheless, unless she just enjoyed toying with the minds of others, she would be listening for a reply. If you must know, psion, I do not doubt my power as much as my worthiness of having received it. But I'm not here to prove myself worthy. I'm here to do what I can to save the kingdoms, Garnier thought to himself. The presence of a psion worried him, because they could read the minds of others while he himself had no ability to surmise what their motives are. And there was no doubt she knew he was uneased by her presence. Before he could ponder it any more, another member of the group approached him, this time an unassuming-looking man. "Good day, Exalted Brother Garnier. My name is Matthew Jenning. As a mage from Atlas, I hope there will be no distrust between us. With a paladin of the Church in our group to complement the assembled people here, I'm sure our journey will go far smoother, wouldn't you say?" Another Atlesian, a mage this time. Perhaps Atlas does recognize the importance of this mission. Garnier shook the man's hand. "Of course, sir." He knew next to nothing of this man or the others, but the duty of a Sun Knight was not to investigate others. |
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The stone cannot know why the chisel cleaves it; the iron cannot know why the fire scorches it. When thy life is cleft and scorched, when death and despair leap at thee, beat not thy breast and curse thy evil fate, but thank the Builder for the trials that shape thee. -The Hammer Book of Tenets | |
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| Colonel Mustard | Aug 11 2011, 11:28 AM Post #38 |
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Lord of Facial Hair
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Late. Duhos did not approve of such a thing. In his eyes, lateness signified one of two attributes; carelessness or apathy or both, and he did not wish to have someone with such a quality (if such a thing could indeed be called a quality) accompanying them on their quest. He looked at the new arrival as he introduced himself as a ‘Brother Garnier’ and his bullish clay brow creased into a frown. Of the Holy Order of the Sun, and an Exalted Brother no less. This man would then, no doubt, be a skilled warrior, something he could respect; he knew of the skill of the Order of the Sun’s paladins, and to reach the rank of Exalted brother meant that this man must have proven himself. The paladins of the Church’s holy orders were a paradox to him; on one hand, they were some of the most lethal and honourable souls he knew of, bound by codes of warrior’s dogma not unlike the oath of the Oregember that still kept his loyalty to his long abandoned city and to the Goddess. On the other hand, however, they were the primary enforcers of a Church that preached a perverted, mangled version of Her true word, collaborators in bastardising a church that had now abandoned the old rituals and prayers, and such a thing had not sat comfortably with the Golem. It was no wonder she had abandoned this world, part of him could not help but think; the Old Maiden was clearly exhausted with the false worship that had propagated in the last few thousand years. Still, this man was a proven warrior, and it would do to show him at least some measure of courtesy. So he waited for the Atlesians to greet him, before he slammed the butt of his falchion into the stone floor once more, and repeated his statement of; "You may name me Duhos Oregember, First of the Oregember of Disolthrem." Edited by Colonel Mustard, Aug 11 2011, 02:29 PM.
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| "Pillage, then burn."-Rule 1 of Habits of Highly Effective Pirates | |
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| Darkom | Aug 14 2011, 10:50 AM Post #39 |
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Philosophizer
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The Throne Room of Castle Sunkeep; Mid-Morning, March 1st, 1066 AL The paladin removed his decorated helm, bowing before the king. Richard smiled warmly at the knight's humility. 'If every soldier were more like this one, we might not have needed this Lost God at all.' The king placed a long hand on the paladin's shoulder, studying his bright yellow eyes as he rose. Before he could question the man further, however, another of the heroes approached the Brother, reintroducing himself to the latecomer. The king stepped back as the knight shook James' hand, frowning slightly at the interruption. It was not something he was accustomed to. The king opened his mouth to begin again, but was cut off once more by the heroes at his back. This time it was Wayne that shook the paladin's hand, asking for the knight's name as he did so. Richard turned his gaze back to the paladin- he had been about to ask the man's name before- wondering if he had heard it before. It was not unlikely; the Order was actively involved in the military and politics of Sunkeep, afterall. Richard patiently waited as two more of the heroes introduced themselves to the paladin, first the Atlesian mage and then the rock-man who named himself Duhos. With a quick glance to Gerald, who nodded sharply in response, the king stepped towards the side of the circular room. Gerald was beside him in a moment, his hands folded behind his back, waiting for the king's signal. With a final glance to ensure no one else had anything to add, the king held up his gold robed arms, his sky blue eyes raised to the statuettes that lined the room. "And so your journey begins," the king intoned, lowering his jovial gaze to the heroes' faces. "If there are no further questions, we shall be on our way. The first leg of your quest is at Wellay, where the Duke shall be waiting for you. As time is of the essence, you shall be taking my own personal route to the island." The king waved a hand at the blank stone wall behind him, chuckling to himself as he did so. Gerald sighed, reaching one white gloved hand out for a single gray square, at waist level on the wall. The stone was, for all appearances, identical to the others around it, but at Gerald's touch it retreated backwards with the slow grating of mortar. The steward then pressed on the side of the stone, near the marble column that held up a former king of Sunkeep, sending the entire concave wall swinging inwards. A cold gust of air escaped the darkened corridor beyond. "For emergencies," the king smiled, taking a flaming torch from a brazier on the wall. Gerald followed suit, stepping into the hidden passageway. The corridor was tall enough for the steward to stand without stooping, and wide enough to allow for three men to walk abreast. "The whole world is at stake," the king continued, striding beside his servant, "We had best get a move on." OOC: Alrighty, the meet and greet is concluded; our journey starts now, crossing the threshold of the sunlit throne room into the black corridor beyond. Fall in line behind the king as you see fit, we can continue to chat a bit as we walk (Duhos may have to squeeze a bit, Colonel. I didn't see making an escape tunnel large enough for a golem to be a reasonable venture. ). As I said earlier, there will be a surprise in store for us before we reach Wellay, but for now bear with me. Thanks again everyone.
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| Don't say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream. ~Mark Twain | |
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| Ambrose51 | Aug 16 2011, 02:50 PM Post #40 |
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The Resident Horror Enthusiast
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Matthew turned to listen to what would hopefully be the final speech by the King. While he appreciated how dire the situation was, the elderly ruler seemed just a tad melodramatic. He wondered briefly if the man was always like this, and if so, how the surely long-suffering steward managed to stay sane. He eyed the secret passage for a moment, his eyes moving to glance at the smiling face of the King before returning back to the darkened corridor. He had to admit it made him somewhat apprehensive. The last time he had seen a place like that, it had led to the interior of a torture chamber. He had no wish to relive those memories. However, no one else seemed to be moving just yet, so he decided to take it upon himself to move forward, even as the King began striding away. He stepped lightly over the area that separated the passage from the room proper, feeling a shiver go down his spine as he did so. He had to admit that the place was too dark for his liking, even with the torch the King was carrying. He liked well-lit places. The fewer patches of darkness in an area, the fewer places for something... Unpleasant... To hide in. He knew from experience the sort of beings that preferred to hide in the shadows, and that experience was not setting him at ease. It must have showed to anyone who may have been observing him as well, he was sure. Not even his emotionless mask could stop some slight expression of apprehension from showing on his face. He was no fool knight seeking glory, not understanding the world as it was. He was a mage, and one who knew of the dark arts as well. He knew that no matter what place they might be in, even if it were the most holy church in the world, it could still have dark secrets that would drive even the bravest man to tears. You simply needed to know where and how to look. The urge to create a flame of his own in his hand was great, just for the small amount of extra light it would provide, but Matthew refused to lower himself to using spells for something as trivial as that. All his spells were taking more effort than they had before, and those damnable headaches returned instantly whenever he began his chant. No, the situation did not absolutely require a spell just yet. |
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But mostly? The assorted plans at play here would be going very, very wrong due to the actions of a no-name, no-count, utterly talentless Magus by the name of Shirou Emiya. He had no magic worth mentioning, no combat experience of note, and no plan for or knowledge of the War he was about to enter. He did, however, have one trait that had derailed a countless number of such grand, far-reaching schemes throughout history. You see, he really, really wanted to be a hero. -(Best description of the start of a Fate novel ever.) | |
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After this, if there are no more questions, we'll be headed to the teleportation room and off to Wellay, so voice any more comments now. And again, side conversations are welcome, arguments especially. If you see someone needing to post, please include an address to them in your own post, just to give them something to respond to. It'll make things easier on all of us.
Thanks.











2:39 PM Jul 11