((OOC: I’m adding each post to a single document, whilst removing the OOC parts and cleaning up the occasional typo I find. I’ll post updated versions once a week, so if people want an easier way to recap the plot, I’m on it.
The Story So Far: http://files-upload.com/files/631828/The%20Black%20Diamond%20Circle%20-%20Story%20So%20Far.doc
(Link valid for 14 days - That'll work out fine I'm sure, given I'm replacing them)
Here be my character profile in case anyone wants to reference it without having to trawl back and find it: http://www.roleplaygateway.com/bryce-finley-t3322.html
Oh, and thanks so much for the compliment, Angel.
JTF, after the incidents earlier today in the chat, I’m sure we’d all like to know whether you will be continuing with this RP or not, as well as RPGateway as a whole. Thanks.))~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Outside on the waterfront, the sun had moved ever so slightly past its zenith. The deadened sound of wood rattling across the cobblestones interspersed with the clip-clop of hooves on stone announced the presence of a rather ornate carriage as it moved towards the pier. Fine metalwork twisted about its structure like a creeper, although it stopped short of any gold leaf or gemstones set into the design. Two dark coated bays were guided by a slightly overweight, middle aged man sitting atop the carriage.
The muffled sound of their passage through the city heard from within was suddenly cleared as a young boy parted the mahogany curtains to peer out at the sky, his face speaking plainly of worry.
“Will he still be there? We’re going to be late!” He spoke into mid-air as his eyes scanned the sky, and then dropped to the horizon. “I can’t see anyone!”
“If this man went to the trouble of writing you a letter and sending it to you on the wind, I think he’ll wait a moment before he gives up on you, Master Bryce.” The man at the reins replied kindly.
Bryce’s eyes returned to the approaching pier, narrowing slightly as he tried to make out anyone who looked the part of a wizard. Masts and crates got in the way of his vision, as did the glare of the sun. The air was crisp and refreshing, but the sun rather bright on the eyes, he thought. He supposed Tomas was right. They’d be there soon anyway, and there was nothing he could really do about it. He began to hum a tune to himself, the beginnings of a song he was working on.
Retreating into the body of the carriage, he pulled the curtain fully aside so that he kept his view as he sat looking out over the water on his left. Only a little while later, Tomas reined the horses in at the beginning of the pier, outside an inn. As Bryce jumped down to the street, he heard sounds of a commotion coming from the inn’s direction. He started to walk quickly towards the inn, an expression of interest on his face, before Tomas called him back with a firm word.
“Your father told you not to go getting involved with anyone who spends their time drinking all day, let alone those who start fights. Come up here and sit with me, and we’ll wait for this wizard of yours. Come on Master Bryce. I’ve got some cured ham and bread for you I brought along.”
Turning away from the inn slowly, Bryce sighed and clambered up onto the top of the carriage next to Tomas. His eyes widened as he took up the food, and promptly began rushing it into his mouth almost as fast as he could swallow.
After a brief pause afforded him as a result of eating too fast, he looked along the pier. A few people were milling around, but no-one who he thought might be a learned and presumably elderly mage. Reaching into one of his coat pockets, he pulled out the letter he had received at court a few days ago, unfolded it carefully, and scanned through its contents again, to check the time.
“We’re fine, Master Bryce, he’ll be here. He knows how to find you, that much is clear.”
Nodding, Bryce placed the letter neatly atop his lap. Lofting the very last of the bread he couldn’t finish, a thin vine sprouted from its surface and wrapped itself around and around until he had a hard, green ball made out of the tough plant’s stems. He grinned, and threw it level with his head, catching it in his other hand. Ironically, using up the last mouthful of bread to craft his ball had cost him just enough to want that mouthful back again.
Laughing, he carried on throwing the ball back and forth.