The grand wizard stood at center stage, flourishing his cape and waving his wand. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, stand in amazement as I prepare to saw this lowly gnome in half!" The crowd gasped as from the side wings, a tiny fey creature shackled in iron chains stumbled out into bright lights.
Nimaran hated this part. Here he was, a budding young arcanist-in-training, showing all the promise in the world, and somehow he ended up in a backwater magic show which was constantly stuck in the village fair touring circuit. Worse yet, he wasn't even receiving star billing! He was just a lowly assistant to a complete and utter hack.
The worst part was that the bumbling human mage had long ago lost all his arcane ability, but continued to fake it for the audience. Even Nimaran could put on a better show of real magic than this fool. Still, the crowds paid to see the human, and they wanted realism. Small comfort to Nimaran, as the box of illusion was locked into place around him.
"Don't worry, little guy. The cleric has the ritual all set up for you. This will be quick."
Nimaran glanced over at the show's cleric backstage, who shrugged back with as much sympathy as he could muster while he prepared yet another Raise Dead ritual for the luckless gnome. He turned his head back up to see the blade descending, and closed his eyes.
FaranguI am a beardy manWith a beardy planRegistered Userregular
edited July 2010
After much deliberation, the party is as follows:
Nimaran, Gnomish Wizard(played by Zaximus) Laineth the Free, Half-Elf Battlemind(played by delroland) Gwyn-Lai, Genasi Monk(played by Rainfall) Aemille The Nine Lives, Human Bard(played by astrobstrd) The Feathered Maiden of Riddleport, Human Rogue(played by interrobang)
There's your five dreamers. To the rest of you...keep dreaming.
I'm going to grab some food, and then I'll begin the story. Do you guys want an IC and OOC thread, or just one thread?
FaranguI am a beardy manWith a beardy planRegistered Userregular
edited July 2010
Ok then...
Act I - Dream Country
I'm writing this on the fine edge of the blade; that thin silver horizon where you hover right before falling asleep, and right before completely waking...[There's a]troll that lives beneath this bridge; he exhales...the visions that flash only fleetingly across our gaze and then are gone with the next memory. Dreams of what we've loved and lost, dreams that are more vivid than our lives, dreams that tell you they aren't dreams, from which come the questions that trouble and enthrall and finally free our spirits, if we're brave enough for the answers...
Don't pay too much attention to the troll underneath, cheeky bastard that he is. He isn't going anywhere. He'll still be there tomorrow, and the day after; hear, rather, those other voices...They're feline and Shakespearean, nakedly ambitious and heartbreakingly alone.
It's a dream, you say.
It's not a dream, they answer." - Steve Erickson
I'm going to be a nice DM and let you set up the beginning for your characters; you likely know it better than I can guess. Post some RP about what you wanted from life, where you are now, and what you dream about. At least one post from each of you. When you're finished role-playing, type in !ready and I'll start the tale. The OP will be updated with sheets, pictures and such shortly.
Summer toiled on her hands and knees, trying to scrub the grime and vomit from the tavern floor with an old, worn brush. Rubbing her eyes, Summer dared not fall asleep, lest she receive another beating. Last night had indeed been busy, and the half-elf girl had only gotten two hours of sleep before sunrise. Her mother didn't care, of course, and the chores still needed to be done.
How she wished she could be away from all this, wandering the world and seeing the wonders within! That's all Summer wanted, to be away from her mother. Summer knew her father was still out there, and had he but known she existed, he would gallantly swoop in and rescue Summer from her torment, showering her with the parental love she had never known.
Laineth, of course, would never allow others to lose their freedom in this way. The fair battle maiden had, after all, sworn on her blade that she would not rest until every last Slave Lord of the North had been slain, their captives free to live and love. Calling the forests her home, Laineth would live in the trees with the elves, who had taken her in with open arms and provided her with a haven from which she could launch her attacks on the slave caravans and to which she could return to rest and replenish her supplies. And she certainly didn't have to scrub floors!
A kick to the ribs brought Summer back to reality. "Are you sleeping with work still left to do?!"
"No, mother. I was just... distracted. I'm sorry, mother." Summer redoubled her efforts on a particularly stubborn stain, hoping to avoid eye contact.
"Well keep that air head of yours focused! I want this place positively glowing! I've just received word that the Baron will be coming through town tonight, and I'll be damned if I'm going to have him stay at the Galloping Bucket across town!" The smell of something burning wafted into the common area. "Oh, your breakfast is ready. Best finish that floor if you want to eat before it grows cold."
Tentatively !ready, though I can certainly go on if you'd prefer.
delroland on
EVE: Online - the most fun you will ever have not playing a game.
"Go up, thou bald head." -2 Kings 2:23
Gwen shivered underneath the collection of rags she called a blanket, the cold finally forcing her to throw it off and start moving, gnawing on the pieces of stew-dipped bread she had salvaged from the kitchen last night before she had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. They were, of course, hard and nigh-frozen after the chilly night, the heat from the inn's fires and chimney did not even begin to touch her tiny attic room, the loose shutters on the window failing to serve their purpose.
It was so far from her dreams. Being free to wander, like the circus-folk that had come one summer, who had beat her when she tried to join them, having no use for a mute runaway in their small, hungry band. Even that would be better than the constant labor and abuse that Miss Sarah piled upon her. But she had no illusions about her survival outside the city. She was clumsy, slow, and couldn't even speak. She'd die within a week, within days during the winter.
She shivered again, trying to recapture her dream of last night. She had been Gwyn-Lai again, battling orcs in the forest. It was so... exhilarating. So free. The wind against her face as she ran through the trees... The young girl smiled in memory as she slipped out the door, hoping to find some more food and warmth in the kitchen before being given menial daily tasks by Miss Sarah.
Also tentatively !ready. Delro, do you think Gwen and Summer would be under the same roof, or perhaps competing establishments within the same city?
Re: Token picture, finding pictures of Genasi is haard!
I think it'd be better if you worked at the Galloping Bucket, as I don't see Summer's mother and Ms. Sarah being the same person, and I imagine Summer's tavern being a two person operation. Plus Summer's mother is a bit of a pariah, being that she got herself knocked up by an elf, whereas the name "Ms. Sarah" conjures someone who has some level of respect within the town. Of course, that means that since I named your inn, you get to name mine. :P
delroland on
EVE: Online - the most fun you will ever have not playing a game.
"Go up, thou bald head." -2 Kings 2:23
Should have specified. Hard to find pictures of female windsoul genasi that aren't horribly drawn or terrifyingly tiny/cropped. This one showed up under the obscure search term 'Faerun Genasi,' as opposed to any other search I tried. Nyaarrrgh.
Rainfall on
0
Options
FaranguI am a beardy manWith a beardy planRegistered Userregular
Elle woke with a start, her skinny torso lurching upright on her mattress. The sun had roused her from slumber, but the warmth of morning's first light did not greet her so much as it mocked her. It was the fourth night in a row that her dreams had been cut tragically short by sunrise - in her dream the Maiden had been involved in a tense chase across the rooftops and through the back alleys of Riddleport, hunted by mercenaries hired to bring in her head. There were two of them: a heavy-set strongman type who was slow in every way that word can encompass and a tall thin one, quicker and craftier.
The chase had taken the Maiden from the Fishing District all the way into the Nobles' Quarter, and she'd managed to evade the burly one with ease - the thin man, however, was not so easy to slip. The Maiden had taken a wrong turn, temporarily perplexed by the unnecessary complexity of the Quarter's layout, and found herself backed into a dead end by the thin man. He had grinned like a wolf and drawn a sword from his belt, and in response the Maiden had smiled and produced her rapier, ready for a fight.
Then the dream was over, cut off like a novel with half its pages ripped out.
Elle mourned the loss of closure of such a dream, because she knew that when she fell asleep again the scene will have changed, and the Maiden would be elsewhere. She had never been able to replicate the same dream twice, or even pick up where she had left off; it was as though she were simply observing through some temporary window opened only when she slept. Pushing those thoughts aside, she dragged herself out of bed and dressed herself, taking a seat on the edge of her bed to pull on her boots. A too-hard tug to get the left one on caused the sole to rip free of the toe, and Elle grit her teeth in annoyance. Great, she thought, something else to pay for.
With her day already ruined, barely five minutes since it started, she retrieved her satchel from its place on the floor beside the front door, bending down to pick it up and sling it over her shoulder before setting out, traversing the worn, dusty path that led her into town, her boots clapping and clopping all the way there.
astrobstrdSo full of mercy...Registered Userregular
edited July 2010
Emmet sighed heavily and prayed for patience and understanding. It had been only a week since the hag from the forest had stumbled into this humble monastery, but he felt like she had been there for years. It had to be a test from Bahamut. Nothing else could explain the ruckus Stegra caused. He rubbed his temples and concentrated on the pleasant feeling of his scales against his fingers and used his healing words to chase away his headache.
"Archduke Fiossi will hear of this, rogue! I had the golden fox under the spell of my song before you chased him off."
They had only learned her name yesterday. A travelling farmer identified her as a hedge wizard from Arbor Crossing, a small village half a day's ride inland from Roderic's Cove. Stegra she was called; her surname had been lost to the ages years ago. Right now, Emmet was hauling Stegra back to the room they provided and locking the door. She had been running through the vineyards for nearly two hours, screaming snatches of various songs and chasing raccoons with a curved stick.
"A prison, huh fiend?! No walls can hold me!"
The woman was mad, but there was some truth in that. The priests only wanted to help, but she had slipped into every area of the temple that was forbidden. She was spending more and more time locked up every day. No one knew what to do with her. It would be inhumane to send her away, but lord bless him, Emmet prayed that anything would take her away.
Stegra scratched at the walls until her fingers bled. She heard Skitter in there somewhere. Why was everything so confusing? Why did the golden fox matter so much again? She cried and gathered her thoughts as best as she could. Sleep would help. Yes...she needed rest...the world wasn't in such tatters in her sleep.
Nimaran carefully opened his eyes, and blinked. Slowly, the world came into focus around him. A heavily bearded dwarf loomed overhead, staring directly at Nimaran. It took a few moments before Nimaran realized that he was drenched in cold water, and someone was slapping his face.
"Welcome back, laddie. Hope ye enjoyed yer trip!"
Nimaran slowly sat up from the floor and shook the water from his hair. "If you were a real friend, you know, you wouldn't bring me back."
The dwarf tipped his head back and laughed, "Aye, believe me I would! But ye know it's not in the contract."
After Nimaran was wrapped in his cloak and dried off, he sat alone in the stagehand's trailer while everyone else packed up in preparation for travel to another show. He looked around the wagon and sighed. Five years ago, he picked up a piece of parchment tacked to a job board in a local tavern. "Become a wizard!" it proclaimed. "See the world with Barnaby Rellin's Traveling Magic Show! Seeking an apprentice to learn the tricks of the trade." That sounded like a good deal to Nimaran, and for a brief period, it was. Barnaby was a fool, but at one time, he was a talented mage. Nimaran didn't receive any formal study from Barnaby, but just from hiding in the shadows watching, he was able to pick up a few cantrips here and there. Nimaran would amuse himself for hours on the road by spooking the stagehands with the odd echo here and there, or causing the tips of his shoes to emit a warm radiant light.
When Barnaby's powers mysteriously faded, it became clear that Nimaran had a chance to succeed where Barnaby had failed. The human was furious at the thought, and worked day and night with his stagehands to develop a new magic show that relied on mechanical special effects rather than magic sights. To ensure that no upstart gnomes would take his place, he imprisoned Nimaran as the subject of these brutal effects, with the implicit understanding that the only way Nimaran could leave was to shuffle off this mortal coil.
----
"Someday," Nimaran dreamed, "I'll have my own magic show! With real magic! And I'll show them what a gnome can do!" But the whinnying of the horses snapped him out of his reverie. Until that day, it was off to another village, another stage.
!ready
OOC:
I'm on Pacific time and work the typical 9-5. I can manage the occasional RP post at work but any posts involving Orokos will have to wait until early morning or after work.
(Also, I realized today that I gave myself a level 3 item for free instead of a level 2, so I changed the items to fit with your requirements. The character build is the same.)
Zaximus on
0
Options
FaranguI am a beardy manWith a beardy planRegistered Userregular
edited July 2010
"Another day, another silver piece. You survive the assault upon the senses that your waking life brings, to safely retreat into the world of slumber. As you cross the thin line of consciousness, though, you swear you can hear a faint chuckling...
Nimaran never slept well the night after a resurrection, but tonight his dreams were especially troubled. He found himself in the same dream he always had – his own stage, commanding the attention of an audience captivated by his amazing illusions and showmanship. Tonight’s dream was different somehow. More ominous. Instead of a wooden stage, Nimaran performed his works on top of a mighty pillar. Down below, there was no audience save for Barnaby, captivated not by awe or wonder, but by heavy restraints to his chair.
Nimaran the Assistant tossed and turned in his tiny bed. The dream continued onward, and now Nimaran the Wizard was not alone. A second mage descended from the heavens to his pillar, stopping to float right in front of him. Nimaran’s frenzied casting ceased as he abruptly recognized the new figure. It was Raistlin, a legendary mage of incredible renown. Nimaran stood silently, unable to move or think clearly as Raistlin began to speak to him at length. The mage spoke of many things, with key words sticking in Nimaran’s mind. Things like “powerful artifact”, “danger”, and most importantly, a place.
“Ilsurian.”
To punctuate the end of his speech, Raistlin nodded and vanished with a wink. In that moment, Nimaran’s dream surroundings changed into a burning hell. He looked down and saw Barnaby still in his chair, the flames devouring him. Then as quickly as it began, the fires disappeared. Raistlin was nowhere to be seen, but his voice slowly echoed from all around. “In return for doing this, well…you’ll see…when you…”
“WAKE UP!”
Barnaby towered over Nimaran’s bed as his eyes snapped open. “We’re two days ride from the next stop and we need to make good time.” He jerked his thumb to the door. “Get to work.”
As Barnaby turned to exit, a lump of ash suddenly crashed through the window. Strangely, it hovered in the air, spinning in circles until the lump thinned out into the form of a small quarterstaff. Both Barnaby and Nimaran stared, slack jawed, as the staff slowly stopped spinning, paused, and then crashed into Barnaby’s face. The human collapsed to the floor, unconscious, as the staff then traveled to Nimaran, where it settled in his open hands. It was just the right size for a gnome. Nimaran, still in shock, eventually lowered his gaze to the ashen staff. His eyes glossed over the intricate carvings, barely recognizing them as words, until he settled on the monogram at the staff’s end. It was simply “R.”
Nimaran blinked, and distinctly recalled the vivid dream that he just emerged from. “Ilsurian.” He looked down at the crumpled form of Barnaby Rellin, then at the slightly ajar door of the wagon. For the first time in a very long time, freedom seemed close at hand.
"Il-sur-i-an." The word came out broken, halting, but it was speech. Gwen smiled, then caught herself. Gwyn-Lai, now. She moved with fluid grace to the mantlepiece, slipping on her gear in a manner that was second nature, despite having only existed in dreams before now.
She could feel the muscles moving underneath her skin, enough strength, grace, and speed to crush a man's skull with a single blow. The feeling of power was intoxicating, the feeling of the wind coursing through her veins, making every step a graceful, airy, movement, that was bliss. She had freedom within her grasp, a chance to move on, to claim a better life.
Then she shivered, looking nervously at the door that Miss Sarah had just been pounding on, moments ago. Was this just another dream? Would she truly be able to leave for real? There was only one way to find out.
She pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway, a gust of wind from the open window in her room following her affectionately. Is this a waking dream, or a foul trick, or a wish come true? Only time will tell. For now... I must find Ilsurian.
Summer stared at her reflection in the mirror, unbelieving. Absent-mindedly, she caressed the armor that had magically appeared in her room. Gingerly lifting the sword (her sword?) from the mantle, she found herself checking the balance before gripping the hilt firmly. She had never before even touched a sword, so how could it feel so natural for her to hold one now? It was as though the blade had become an extension of her arm, as if it was always meant to be there.
A loud pounding on the door echoed about the small room. "Summer, Gods damn it! If you don't get out here IMMEDIATELY, you won't eat for the week! Summer, open this door!" The distinctive jingling of the Matron's key ring could be heard as Summer's mother moved to unlock the door. Dashing towards an armoire, Summer pushed it over with newfound strength, barricading the door closed as the cabinet fell in front of it with a large CRASH!
The door now unlocked, her mother opened it an inch before it stopped against the pile of wooden debris. "What the--? HOW DARE YOU, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BITCH! AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR YOU! I'LL KILL YOU FOR THIS!" The door slammed against the remains of the armoire, as Summer's mother's screaming reached a fevered pitch. Slowly the debris began to give way.
Summer quickly disrobed, her bedclothes dropping to the floor. Grabbing the sturdy outfit she would wear to market, she redressed, then began hurriedly strapping the armor around her newly athletic frame. Hastily sheathing the sword before strapping the scabbard to her hip, she reached for a backpack and shield that had been mixed in with the other items and headed for the window. Opening the window, Summer paused, looking back to her room, the only home she had never known. Returning to the vanity at which she had spent so many hours readying herself for the next customer, she grabbed a tin of lip paint, dipping her finger in the deep red grease.
The Matron finally got the door open, tumbling into the room in a blind fury. "SUMMER! YOU'RE GOING TO--" Stunned to realize she was in an empty room, the Matron's rage disappeared in an instant, replaced with befuddlement. "Summer, where are you?" Her eyes drifted first to the open window, then to the smears of red across the vanity mirror. I AM LAINETH NOW
AND I AM FREE
GOODBYE MOTHER
delroland on
EVE: Online - the most fun you will ever have not playing a game.
"Go up, thou bald head." -2 Kings 2:23
Elle had absolutely no idea what was going on, and she loved it. That one word hung in her mind with the weight of a mountain, its inexorable pull doing more to motivate her and light a fire under her than anything else had in several years. The lightness of her own body surprised her as she sprung to her feet and moved to her dresser, catching a glimpse of herself in the tarnished surface of her mirror. What had happened to her? She'd been a ragged heap of skin and bones when she'd laid down the night before, and yet there she stood - the very picture of health and vigor. It was exciting, to put it mildly.
Despite being too giddy to form a complete thought, the sight of the pile of equipment on her mantle filled her with a newfound sense of purpose and duty. She hadn't been blessed with this change on a whim... and the Maiden was counting on her. Elle shed her ill-fitting nightclothes with such haste that she nearly tripped over herself in the act, redressing herself as quickly as she could, her trembling hands fighting with the troublesome buckle of her swordbelt.
A sword... Gods, she could hardly believe it. Even as she closed her fingers around its unusually basket hilt and slid it from its sheath she was expecting it to crumble to dust in her grip. It was an artful, elegant weapon, yet unmistakably dangerous, its edge honed sharp enough to cleave through straw - a cursory swing aimed at the corner of her mattress was enough to tell her that. Deciding it was in her best interest to sheathe the thing before she cut her own head off with it, Elle pulled her hood up and turned to move for the door, stepping across the threshold and out into the morning sun.
The world didn't feel so gray anymore. Treading the path that took her into town used to be a dreaded daily chore, and now she could barely keep herself from sprinting down the road, an unflinching grin on her face. She was free, Gods, she was free. Storybooks be damned, she was literally living dream and loving every second of it.
Now the question remained: who was Ilsurian, and where would she find him?
astrobstrdSo full of mercy...Registered Userregular
edited July 2010
Aemille ran her fingers over her face and stared at the mirror again. It hadn't been a dream...or it had been, but...it still didn't make a lot of sense to Aemille. She had had fleeting visions of the hag, visions that seemed terrifyingly tactile and more real than her own life at times, but here in this room, Stegra's clothing was on the floor; her smell lingered, heavy and earthy.
The fey court had been occupied by a man calling himself Aelinor and he was looking for something near...Illsanor was it?
"Are you through day-dreaming, lazy? You may not care but we're locked in a room that smells like an outhouse. Do you have a plan to get us out or are leaving it to me again?" Skitter chirped a delightful song that sounded melodious to the untrained ear, but Aemille recognized it for the complaining that it was.
No more day-dreaming. If she only had one lead and a head full of questions, then so be it!
"We aren't prisoners, Skitter. I'm a patient...give me a moment and they will see that I'm all better now."
Emmet made the last of his rounds and prepared for bed. Dealing with Stegra had made him too tired to sleep, so he had spent most of the night cleaning the grounds. He found the hole in the statue of The Savior where Stegra had apparently been stuffing her food and before he knew it, found himself writing a request for transfer to Riddleport.
"Hmm...hmm...la la lee...When your love is in the eye of the storm, you cannot help but miss the shape of her form..."
Why was that song stuck in his head? Wait a moment.
The song was echoing down the corridor from where he had locked the old woman away. Candle in hand, Emmet made his way down the hallway. It was unmistakably coming from her room, but how? This voice was beautiful and supported by a harp that seemed to fall away and come back like the tides of the sea; Emmet swore he could even smell the ocean. He unbolted the door and found a human plucking the strings of an unusual and elegant instrument by the door. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and waltzed around him to the other side of the door.
"Sorry for all the trouble, but I'm cured now! You guys do great work here. I'll sing your praises from prairie to mountain and all stops in between. Come along, Skitter, and leave his holy symbol alone! Illsanor, here we come!"
Emmet spent a solid minute blushing before he realized that she was gone.
FaranguI am a beardy manWith a beardy planRegistered Userregular
edited July 2010
The journey is longer for some of you than others, but finally you all reach the small hamlet of Ilsurian. Unfortunately, night draws near as you enter the gates, so the odds of getting much done today in your search is slim. You begin to search for inns to stay the night, and find only one you would actually trust enough to sleep in: The Dancing Ogre...
Gwyn-Lai strode into the inn with her natural grace, taking a slow, deep breath to calm herself after days of near-solitude on the road and in the wilds. It seemed that with her new body came new knowledge, she had been quite capable of taking care of herself in nature, but now that she was faced with people again, she was just a bit nervous.
She stepped up to the counter near the back where a portly old man was polishing a glass, his eyes tracking her every step from the door to his bar. "A... room please?" Her fingers lightly touched the purse hanging from her belt, a faint 'chink' sound coming from it, the sound of gold attracting at least a small amount of attention from the people in the room. Gwen still couldn't believe she was carrying real gold around, and not hiding it in a bank or turning it into smaller pieces, but Gwyn-Lai was more than capable of defending herself from those who tried to take her money.
Nimaran hopped off the traveler's wagon outside the gates of Ilsurian, handing a few coins to the driver. As he walked through the town, he surveyed the village streets. He was sure that the magic show had never performed here, which was good - nobody would recognize him, and there would be little chance of Barnaby searching for him here.
The Dancing Ogre wasn't much, but it looked like the safest place to stay. Nimaran entered the inn cautiously, weaving around the legs of taller folk until he reached the bar. He looked up at the counter, and rapped the bar three times with his new staff to get the proprietor's attention. A voice from behind the counter answered "Be with ya in a minute", then continued business with a tall, poised woman standing next to Nimaran. He looked up at her, and upon catching her eye, smiled and shrugged before leaning against the counter to watch the other patrons.
Elle's boundless enthusiasm had worn off over the span of the past couple days, and it wasn't until she was halfway through her trek that she remembered Ilsurian was a place, not a person. Stupid girl! She'd even been there before, as a child! She had to stop getting so unnecessarily excited about everything, it was clouding her judgment.
It was a quaint little village, and the Dancing Ogre was little more than a glorified tavern - but it was one that at least had the decency to maintain a well-kept facade, providing the illusion of cleanliness if nothing else. Elle figured it didn't matter; it wasn't as if she was any stranger to bedbugs. She shouldered open the door and stepped through the threshold and found herself on the receiving end of a few dozen stares all at once. It made her flinch and instinctively reach for her sword, laying her fingers over the hilt.
Quietly clearing her throat, she furrowed her brow and hurriedly made her way to the counter, leaning forward against the edge of it as she waited for the barkeep to notice her. She wasn't in any hurry. She'd wait.
Summer walked into-- no, it was Laineth now, she reminded herself. Laineth entered the Drunken Ogre, striding with confidence through the common area. Noting the bar was quite busy, she took a seat at one of the several tables, waving a serving girl over.
"Yes, mistress, how may I serve you?"
Laineth flashed the girl a genuine smile. "You don't have to call me mistress. Laineth will do."
The girl glanced over her shoulder at the innkeeper before turning back to share a conspiratory look, giggling a bit. "Okay, Laineth."
"My throat is dry from my long travels, so I'll have some wine. Nothing too strong, mind you." Laineth leaned closer to the girl, who followed suit. Discreetly slipping a gold piece in the girl's hand, Laineth gestured to the innkeeper with her eyes. "Does he treat you alright? Because if you need help, you can ask me."
delroland on
EVE: Online - the most fun you will ever have not playing a game.
"Go up, thou bald head." -2 Kings 2:23
0
Options
astrobstrdSo full of mercy...Registered Userregular
edited July 2010
A group of four Elvish horsemen dropped of Aemille outside The Drunken Ogre. Skitter, who had been scouting ahead for most of the journey, landed on her shoulder and chirped into her ear.
"We both thank you gentlemen! I still feel awful to have interrupted your trip to bring me all the way out here, but rest assured that Sehanine smiles of such kindness."
The tallest elf in the group, Simarall, grabbed her hand from high on his steed, "No trouble at all...I simply had to hear how your epic of the love-smitten ettin ended. That tale itself was worth the ride. I hope our paths meet again."
"Maybe they shall. Goodbye, friends. I hope that ogre I woke up wasn't too much of a bother."
Aemille left her entourage and sauntered into the common room of the inn. It was provincial, but a few travelers caught her eye. She should be able to work here. With eyes glued to her from around the room, the lucky traveler known to some as "The Nine Lives" ordered a drink and spun a coin on her fingertip before slapping it down in front of the barkeep.
"What is there to do in this this town for someone with a short attention span and an knack for trouble?" Her smile caught the barkeep, but her voice was loud enough for all to hear as her eyes scanned the room.
Skitter hid his face in a bowl of nuts on the bar. He knew that he would have to get her 'out' of that trouble sooner rather than later.
FaranguI am a beardy manWith a beardy planRegistered Userregular
edited July 2010
The barkeep eyed her strangely. "Might I suggest announcing your desire for trouble off of my property, else you find yourself on the street for the night." He walks away, seeming content with his threat, unaware of just how little that troubled Aemille.
Before long, a human approached the bar next to Aemille. "Pardon, miss, but I couldn't help but overhear your...query. I believe I might be able to accomodate you."
astrobstrdSo full of mercy...Registered Userregular
edited July 2010
Skitter scurried back over to Aemille, with the loose coin in his beak. Aemille palmed it into the stranger's hand in a fluid motion.
"I do enjoy the company of accommodating strangers," Aemille flashed a quick smile. A casual observer would call her reckless, but her shy glance down was to see if the man was armed. Skitter circled around the man and kept an eye out. Aemille cast a glance at the barkeep to see his reaction to the man. She thumbed loose the strap on her dagger. She counted the exits. She was lucky, but sometimes luck needed preperation.
"Want to grab a table in the corner and answer my query over a drink...Mister?"
Assuming this is a mister.
Perception: 23 to see what everyone here is up to.
Diplomacy: 22 to charm him.
Insight: 19 to get a feel for my friend here.
I will also be leaving for the weekend tonight, which sucks , but I will be around Monday, so others can RP till then and if something happens, just assume Aemille is charming and a bit of a dare-devil.
Posts
Nimaran, Gnomish Wizard
Background:
Nimaran hated this part. Here he was, a budding young arcanist-in-training, showing all the promise in the world, and somehow he ended up in a backwater magic show which was constantly stuck in the village fair touring circuit. Worse yet, he wasn't even receiving star billing! He was just a lowly assistant to a complete and utter hack.
The worst part was that the bumbling human mage had long ago lost all his arcane ability, but continued to fake it for the audience. Even Nimaran could put on a better show of real magic than this fool. Still, the crowds paid to see the human, and they wanted realism. Small comfort to Nimaran, as the box of illusion was locked into place around him.
"Don't worry, little guy. The cleric has the ritual all set up for you. This will be quick."
Nimaran glanced over at the show's cleric backstage, who shrugged back with as much sympathy as he could muster while he prepared yet another Raise Dead ritual for the luckless gnome. He turned his head back up to see the blade descending, and closed his eyes.
Gods, this job sucked.
And token:
This thread is like a shitty job competition.
I'm guessing it'll make me cry.
Yeesh
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
Nimaran, Gnomish Wizard(played by Zaximus)
Laineth the Free, Half-Elf Battlemind(played by delroland)
Gwyn-Lai, Genasi Monk(played by Rainfall)
Aemille The Nine Lives, Human Bard(played by astrobstrd)
The Feathered Maiden of Riddleport, Human Rogue(played by interrobang)
There's your five dreamers. To the rest of you...keep dreaming.
I'm going to grab some food, and then I'll begin the story. Do you guys want an IC and OOC thread, or just one thread?
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
My vote is for a single thread. I find it's easier to follow what's happening.
Henry Teach, human cutthroat
the game assassino_O
tumblr | instagram | twitter | steam
Act I - Dream Country
Don't pay too much attention to the troll underneath, cheeky bastard that he is. He isn't going anywhere. He'll still be there tomorrow, and the day after; hear, rather, those other voices...They're feline and Shakespearean, nakedly ambitious and heartbreakingly alone.
It's a dream, you say.
It's not a dream, they answer." - Steve Erickson
I'm going to be a nice DM and let you set up the beginning for your characters; you likely know it better than I can guess. Post some RP about what you wanted from life, where you are now, and what you dream about. At least one post from each of you. When you're finished role-playing, type in !ready and I'll start the tale. The OP will be updated with sheets, pictures and such shortly.
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
"Go up, thou bald head." -2 Kings 2:23
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
How she wished she could be away from all this, wandering the world and seeing the wonders within! That's all Summer wanted, to be away from her mother. Summer knew her father was still out there, and had he but known she existed, he would gallantly swoop in and rescue Summer from her torment, showering her with the parental love she had never known.
Laineth, of course, would never allow others to lose their freedom in this way. The fair battle maiden had, after all, sworn on her blade that she would not rest until every last Slave Lord of the North had been slain, their captives free to live and love. Calling the forests her home, Laineth would live in the trees with the elves, who had taken her in with open arms and provided her with a haven from which she could launch her attacks on the slave caravans and to which she could return to rest and replenish her supplies. And she certainly didn't have to scrub floors!
A kick to the ribs brought Summer back to reality. "Are you sleeping with work still left to do?!"
"No, mother. I was just... distracted. I'm sorry, mother." Summer redoubled her efforts on a particularly stubborn stain, hoping to avoid eye contact.
"Well keep that air head of yours focused! I want this place positively glowing! I've just received word that the Baron will be coming through town tonight, and I'll be damned if I'm going to have him stay at the Galloping Bucket across town!" The smell of something burning wafted into the common area. "Oh, your breakfast is ready. Best finish that floor if you want to eat before it grows cold."
"Go up, thou bald head." -2 Kings 2:23
"Go up, thou bald head." -2 Kings 2:23
It was so far from her dreams. Being free to wander, like the circus-folk that had come one summer, who had beat her when she tried to join them, having no use for a mute runaway in their small, hungry band. Even that would be better than the constant labor and abuse that Miss Sarah piled upon her. But she had no illusions about her survival outside the city. She was clumsy, slow, and couldn't even speak. She'd die within a week, within days during the winter.
She shivered again, trying to recapture her dream of last night. She had been Gwyn-Lai again, battling orcs in the forest. It was so... exhilarating. So free. The wind against her face as she ran through the trees... The young girl smiled in memory as she slipped out the door, hoping to find some more food and warmth in the kitchen before being given menial daily tasks by Miss Sarah.
Re: Token picture, finding pictures of Genasi is haard!
Here's a good one:
I think it'd be better if you worked at the Galloping Bucket, as I don't see Summer's mother and Ms. Sarah being the same person, and I imagine Summer's tavern being a two person operation. Plus Summer's mother is a bit of a pariah, being that she got herself knocked up by an elf, whereas the name "Ms. Sarah" conjures someone who has some level of respect within the town. Of course, that means that since I named your inn, you get to name mine. :P
"Go up, thou bald head." -2 Kings 2:23
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
The chase had taken the Maiden from the Fishing District all the way into the Nobles' Quarter, and she'd managed to evade the burly one with ease - the thin man, however, was not so easy to slip. The Maiden had taken a wrong turn, temporarily perplexed by the unnecessary complexity of the Quarter's layout, and found herself backed into a dead end by the thin man. He had grinned like a wolf and drawn a sword from his belt, and in response the Maiden had smiled and produced her rapier, ready for a fight.
Then the dream was over, cut off like a novel with half its pages ripped out.
Elle mourned the loss of closure of such a dream, because she knew that when she fell asleep again the scene will have changed, and the Maiden would be elsewhere. She had never been able to replicate the same dream twice, or even pick up where she had left off; it was as though she were simply observing through some temporary window opened only when she slept. Pushing those thoughts aside, she dragged herself out of bed and dressed herself, taking a seat on the edge of her bed to pull on her boots. A too-hard tug to get the left one on caused the sole to rip free of the toe, and Elle grit her teeth in annoyance. Great, she thought, something else to pay for.
With her day already ruined, barely five minutes since it started, she retrieved her satchel from its place on the floor beside the front door, bending down to pick it up and sling it over her shoulder before setting out, traversing the worn, dusty path that led her into town, her boots clapping and clopping all the way there.
tumblr | instagram | twitter | steam
Some of us have jobs and are on Pacific Time, you know! Post coming in 10 or 15 min....
Although with any luck the job situation will be rectified soon so I don't spend all day on these forums
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
tumblr | instagram | twitter | steam
"Archduke Fiossi will hear of this, rogue! I had the golden fox under the spell of my song before you chased him off."
They had only learned her name yesterday. A travelling farmer identified her as a hedge wizard from Arbor Crossing, a small village half a day's ride inland from Roderic's Cove. Stegra she was called; her surname had been lost to the ages years ago. Right now, Emmet was hauling Stegra back to the room they provided and locking the door. She had been running through the vineyards for nearly two hours, screaming snatches of various songs and chasing raccoons with a curved stick.
"A prison, huh fiend?! No walls can hold me!"
The woman was mad, but there was some truth in that. The priests only wanted to help, but she had slipped into every area of the temple that was forbidden. She was spending more and more time locked up every day. No one knew what to do with her. It would be inhumane to send her away, but lord bless him, Emmet prayed that anything would take her away.
Stegra scratched at the walls until her fingers bled. She heard Skitter in there somewhere. Why was everything so confusing? Why did the golden fox matter so much again? She cried and gathered her thoughts as best as she could. Sleep would help. Yes...she needed rest...the world wasn't in such tatters in her sleep.
I just got a job last week after a four month period of unemployment. I know how much time one can waste here.
"Welcome back, laddie. Hope ye enjoyed yer trip!"
Nimaran slowly sat up from the floor and shook the water from his hair. "If you were a real friend, you know, you wouldn't bring me back."
The dwarf tipped his head back and laughed, "Aye, believe me I would! But ye know it's not in the contract."
After Nimaran was wrapped in his cloak and dried off, he sat alone in the stagehand's trailer while everyone else packed up in preparation for travel to another show. He looked around the wagon and sighed. Five years ago, he picked up a piece of parchment tacked to a job board in a local tavern. "Become a wizard!" it proclaimed. "See the world with Barnaby Rellin's Traveling Magic Show! Seeking an apprentice to learn the tricks of the trade." That sounded like a good deal to Nimaran, and for a brief period, it was. Barnaby was a fool, but at one time, he was a talented mage. Nimaran didn't receive any formal study from Barnaby, but just from hiding in the shadows watching, he was able to pick up a few cantrips here and there. Nimaran would amuse himself for hours on the road by spooking the stagehands with the odd echo here and there, or causing the tips of his shoes to emit a warm radiant light.
When Barnaby's powers mysteriously faded, it became clear that Nimaran had a chance to succeed where Barnaby had failed. The human was furious at the thought, and worked day and night with his stagehands to develop a new magic show that relied on mechanical special effects rather than magic sights. To ensure that no upstart gnomes would take his place, he imprisoned Nimaran as the subject of these brutal effects, with the implicit understanding that the only way Nimaran could leave was to shuffle off this mortal coil.
----
"Someday," Nimaran dreamed, "I'll have my own magic show! With real magic! And I'll show them what a gnome can do!" But the whinnying of the horses snapped him out of his reverie. Until that day, it was off to another village, another stage.
OOC:
(Also, I realized today that I gave myself a level 3 item for free instead of a level 2, so I changed the items to fit with your requirements. The character build is the same.)
And then time
becomes
STRANGE"
PMs are on their way to everybody.
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
Resume play
*whistle*
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
Nimaran the Assistant tossed and turned in his tiny bed. The dream continued onward, and now Nimaran the Wizard was not alone. A second mage descended from the heavens to his pillar, stopping to float right in front of him. Nimaran’s frenzied casting ceased as he abruptly recognized the new figure. It was Raistlin, a legendary mage of incredible renown. Nimaran stood silently, unable to move or think clearly as Raistlin began to speak to him at length. The mage spoke of many things, with key words sticking in Nimaran’s mind. Things like “powerful artifact”, “danger”, and most importantly, a place.
“Ilsurian.”
To punctuate the end of his speech, Raistlin nodded and vanished with a wink. In that moment, Nimaran’s dream surroundings changed into a burning hell. He looked down and saw Barnaby still in his chair, the flames devouring him. Then as quickly as it began, the fires disappeared. Raistlin was nowhere to be seen, but his voice slowly echoed from all around. “In return for doing this, well…you’ll see…when you…”
“WAKE UP!”
Barnaby towered over Nimaran’s bed as his eyes snapped open. “We’re two days ride from the next stop and we need to make good time.” He jerked his thumb to the door. “Get to work.”
As Barnaby turned to exit, a lump of ash suddenly crashed through the window. Strangely, it hovered in the air, spinning in circles until the lump thinned out into the form of a small quarterstaff. Both Barnaby and Nimaran stared, slack jawed, as the staff slowly stopped spinning, paused, and then crashed into Barnaby’s face. The human collapsed to the floor, unconscious, as the staff then traveled to Nimaran, where it settled in his open hands. It was just the right size for a gnome. Nimaran, still in shock, eventually lowered his gaze to the ashen staff. His eyes glossed over the intricate carvings, barely recognizing them as words, until he settled on the monogram at the staff’s end. It was simply “R.”
Nimaran blinked, and distinctly recalled the vivid dream that he just emerged from. “Ilsurian.” He looked down at the crumpled form of Barnaby Rellin, then at the slightly ajar door of the wagon. For the first time in a very long time, freedom seemed close at hand.
She could feel the muscles moving underneath her skin, enough strength, grace, and speed to crush a man's skull with a single blow. The feeling of power was intoxicating, the feeling of the wind coursing through her veins, making every step a graceful, airy, movement, that was bliss. She had freedom within her grasp, a chance to move on, to claim a better life.
Then she shivered, looking nervously at the door that Miss Sarah had just been pounding on, moments ago. Was this just another dream? Would she truly be able to leave for real? There was only one way to find out.
She pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway, a gust of wind from the open window in her room following her affectionately. Is this a waking dream, or a foul trick, or a wish come true? Only time will tell. For now... I must find Ilsurian.
A loud pounding on the door echoed about the small room. "Summer, Gods damn it! If you don't get out here IMMEDIATELY, you won't eat for the week! Summer, open this door!" The distinctive jingling of the Matron's key ring could be heard as Summer's mother moved to unlock the door. Dashing towards an armoire, Summer pushed it over with newfound strength, barricading the door closed as the cabinet fell in front of it with a large CRASH!
The door now unlocked, her mother opened it an inch before it stopped against the pile of wooden debris. "What the--? HOW DARE YOU, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BITCH! AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR YOU! I'LL KILL YOU FOR THIS!" The door slammed against the remains of the armoire, as Summer's mother's screaming reached a fevered pitch. Slowly the debris began to give way.
Summer quickly disrobed, her bedclothes dropping to the floor. Grabbing the sturdy outfit she would wear to market, she redressed, then began hurriedly strapping the armor around her newly athletic frame. Hastily sheathing the sword before strapping the scabbard to her hip, she reached for a backpack and shield that had been mixed in with the other items and headed for the window. Opening the window, Summer paused, looking back to her room, the only home she had never known. Returning to the vanity at which she had spent so many hours readying herself for the next customer, she grabbed a tin of lip paint, dipping her finger in the deep red grease.
The Matron finally got the door open, tumbling into the room in a blind fury. "SUMMER! YOU'RE GOING TO--" Stunned to realize she was in an empty room, the Matron's rage disappeared in an instant, replaced with befuddlement. "Summer, where are you?" Her eyes drifted first to the open window, then to the smears of red across the vanity mirror.
I AM LAINETH NOW
AND I AM FREE
GOODBYE MOTHER
"Go up, thou bald head." -2 Kings 2:23
Elle had absolutely no idea what was going on, and she loved it. That one word hung in her mind with the weight of a mountain, its inexorable pull doing more to motivate her and light a fire under her than anything else had in several years. The lightness of her own body surprised her as she sprung to her feet and moved to her dresser, catching a glimpse of herself in the tarnished surface of her mirror. What had happened to her? She'd been a ragged heap of skin and bones when she'd laid down the night before, and yet there she stood - the very picture of health and vigor. It was exciting, to put it mildly.
Despite being too giddy to form a complete thought, the sight of the pile of equipment on her mantle filled her with a newfound sense of purpose and duty. She hadn't been blessed with this change on a whim... and the Maiden was counting on her. Elle shed her ill-fitting nightclothes with such haste that she nearly tripped over herself in the act, redressing herself as quickly as she could, her trembling hands fighting with the troublesome buckle of her swordbelt.
A sword... Gods, she could hardly believe it. Even as she closed her fingers around its unusually basket hilt and slid it from its sheath she was expecting it to crumble to dust in her grip. It was an artful, elegant weapon, yet unmistakably dangerous, its edge honed sharp enough to cleave through straw - a cursory swing aimed at the corner of her mattress was enough to tell her that. Deciding it was in her best interest to sheathe the thing before she cut her own head off with it, Elle pulled her hood up and turned to move for the door, stepping across the threshold and out into the morning sun.
The world didn't feel so gray anymore. Treading the path that took her into town used to be a dreaded daily chore, and now she could barely keep herself from sprinting down the road, an unflinching grin on her face. She was free, Gods, she was free. Storybooks be damned, she was literally living dream and loving every second of it.
Now the question remained: who was Ilsurian, and where would she find him?
tumblr | instagram | twitter | steam
The fey court had been occupied by a man calling himself Aelinor and he was looking for something near...Illsanor was it?
"Are you through day-dreaming, lazy? You may not care but we're locked in a room that smells like an outhouse. Do you have a plan to get us out or are leaving it to me again?" Skitter chirped a delightful song that sounded melodious to the untrained ear, but Aemille recognized it for the complaining that it was.
No more day-dreaming. If she only had one lead and a head full of questions, then so be it!
"We aren't prisoners, Skitter. I'm a patient...give me a moment and they will see that I'm all better now."
Emmet made the last of his rounds and prepared for bed. Dealing with Stegra had made him too tired to sleep, so he had spent most of the night cleaning the grounds. He found the hole in the statue of The Savior where Stegra had apparently been stuffing her food and before he knew it, found himself writing a request for transfer to Riddleport.
"Hmm...hmm...la la lee...When your love is in the eye of the storm, you cannot help but miss the shape of her form..."
Why was that song stuck in his head? Wait a moment.
The song was echoing down the corridor from where he had locked the old woman away. Candle in hand, Emmet made his way down the hallway. It was unmistakably coming from her room, but how? This voice was beautiful and supported by a harp that seemed to fall away and come back like the tides of the sea; Emmet swore he could even smell the ocean. He unbolted the door and found a human plucking the strings of an unusual and elegant instrument by the door. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and waltzed around him to the other side of the door.
"Sorry for all the trouble, but I'm cured now! You guys do great work here. I'll sing your praises from prairie to mountain and all stops in between. Come along, Skitter, and leave his holy symbol alone! Illsanor, here we come!"
Emmet spent a solid minute blushing before he realized that she was gone.
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
She stepped up to the counter near the back where a portly old man was polishing a glass, his eyes tracking her every step from the door to his bar. "A... room please?" Her fingers lightly touched the purse hanging from her belt, a faint 'chink' sound coming from it, the sound of gold attracting at least a small amount of attention from the people in the room. Gwen still couldn't believe she was carrying real gold around, and not hiding it in a bank or turning it into smaller pieces, but Gwyn-Lai was more than capable of defending herself from those who tried to take her money.
The Dancing Ogre wasn't much, but it looked like the safest place to stay. Nimaran entered the inn cautiously, weaving around the legs of taller folk until he reached the bar. He looked up at the counter, and rapped the bar three times with his new staff to get the proprietor's attention. A voice from behind the counter answered "Be with ya in a minute", then continued business with a tall, poised woman standing next to Nimaran. He looked up at her, and upon catching her eye, smiled and shrugged before leaning against the counter to watch the other patrons.
It was a quaint little village, and the Dancing Ogre was little more than a glorified tavern - but it was one that at least had the decency to maintain a well-kept facade, providing the illusion of cleanliness if nothing else. Elle figured it didn't matter; it wasn't as if she was any stranger to bedbugs. She shouldered open the door and stepped through the threshold and found herself on the receiving end of a few dozen stares all at once. It made her flinch and instinctively reach for her sword, laying her fingers over the hilt.
Quietly clearing her throat, she furrowed her brow and hurriedly made her way to the counter, leaning forward against the edge of it as she waited for the barkeep to notice her. She wasn't in any hurry. She'd wait.
tumblr | instagram | twitter | steam
"Yes, mistress, how may I serve you?"
Laineth flashed the girl a genuine smile. "You don't have to call me mistress. Laineth will do."
The girl glanced over her shoulder at the innkeeper before turning back to share a conspiratory look, giggling a bit. "Okay, Laineth."
"My throat is dry from my long travels, so I'll have some wine. Nothing too strong, mind you." Laineth leaned closer to the girl, who followed suit. Discreetly slipping a gold piece in the girl's hand, Laineth gestured to the innkeeper with her eyes. "Does he treat you alright? Because if you need help, you can ask me."
"Go up, thou bald head." -2 Kings 2:23
"We both thank you gentlemen! I still feel awful to have interrupted your trip to bring me all the way out here, but rest assured that Sehanine smiles of such kindness."
The tallest elf in the group, Simarall, grabbed her hand from high on his steed, "No trouble at all...I simply had to hear how your epic of the love-smitten ettin ended. That tale itself was worth the ride. I hope our paths meet again."
"Maybe they shall. Goodbye, friends. I hope that ogre I woke up wasn't too much of a bother."
Aemille left her entourage and sauntered into the common room of the inn. It was provincial, but a few travelers caught her eye. She should be able to work here. With eyes glued to her from around the room, the lucky traveler known to some as "The Nine Lives" ordered a drink and spun a coin on her fingertip before slapping it down in front of the barkeep.
"What is there to do in this this town for someone with a short attention span and an knack for trouble?" Her smile caught the barkeep, but her voice was loud enough for all to hear as her eyes scanned the room.
Skitter hid his face in a bowl of nuts on the bar. He knew that he would have to get her 'out' of that trouble sooner rather than later.
Before long, a human approached the bar next to Aemille. "Pardon, miss, but I couldn't help but overhear your...query. I believe I might be able to accomodate you."
Chicago Megagame group
Watch me struggle to learn streaming! Point and laugh!
"I do enjoy the company of accommodating strangers," Aemille flashed a quick smile. A casual observer would call her reckless, but her shy glance down was to see if the man was armed. Skitter circled around the man and kept an eye out. Aemille cast a glance at the barkeep to see his reaction to the man. She thumbed loose the strap on her dagger. She counted the exits. She was lucky, but sometimes luck needed preperation.
"Want to grab a table in the corner and answer my query over a drink...Mister?"
Perception: 23 to see what everyone here is up to.
Diplomacy: 22 to charm him.
Insight: 19 to get a feel for my friend here.
and finally
Streetwise: 31 to get a feel for Illsurian.
I will also be leaving for the weekend tonight, which sucks , but I will be around Monday, so others can RP till then and if something happens, just assume Aemille is charming and a bit of a dare-devil.