Introduction
This roleplay will center around two main characters as they quest through the Perhaedian Empire, gathering their army while being constantly hunted by the King.
King Aievol is a powerful, corrupt human mage who has locked himself behind the safety of The Black Keep in the heart of the Empire's capital city, Bel Harem; which is otherwise known as The Black City. He has an army of mages behind him. Whenever any child that is born exhibits magical abilities, the child is taken from its parents and placed in the Academy of Bel Harem: the King’s very own magical school. There, the children learn the dark magic that the King’s army uses to keep the populace under control and to quell any kind of uprisings.
Normal citizens are not to be armed, by the order of the King. All armorers and blacksmiths are mostly located in the Black City, unless specifically licensed to live and work elsewhere. Armor and weapons are regulated and one must have a signed letter from the general of the King's armies, General Jelyel, in order to purchase weapons. Knives, however, are quite difficult to regulate, so they tend to be a popular weapon. Also, many people that live further away from the capital city create their own bows or spears, so that they may hunt. These must be hidden well, however, from the King's soldiers.
The King’s soldiers are spread throughout the entire country, with a squad of at least 20 located in each town to ensure the peace is kept and the rules are followed. Some of these soldiers are ruthless, while some of them are kinder and will purchase game and other results of a hunt from the townspeople, completely ignoring the fact that they've made their own weapons in order to catch these animals. People that are caught with small infractions against the King's law will typically be punished in their own town. But any who have broken bigger laws, such as being caught with a weapon or killing one of the soldiers, will be brought to the capital city to stand before the King for judgement.
To the southeast of the Perhaedian Empire is the Southern Empire. This land has very few magical folk in it and it is rare indeed for anyone from this country to have seen an elf. They do not venture into the Perhaedian Empire. It is a harsh, desert land beyond the Athol Mountains. The people who live there have had to adapt to the brutal heat and the many sandstorms that batter the countryside. They tend to be olive-skinned with dark hair and dark eyes. Most of the cities are nestled along the southern edge of the Athol Mountains, where they are better protected from the wild desert weather.
Races:
- Human
- Dwarf
- Elf
- Demon
The elves have a city deep within the forest called Ma’el. They hide out in the forest and do not take kindly to strangers entering their territories. They tend to be the shoot first, ask questions later type. Sometimes the younger elves get curious or they become too trusting of the humans that live near the forest, and they are taken as slaves. Elven slaves are a hot commodity and they sell for high prices in the cities. Wealth can be counted on how many elven slaves a man’s estate has.
Magic is not all that commonly found in elves or humans. But when elves, in particular, are born with magic, they tend to be very strong in its use. These elves possessing magical qualities are typically the carpenters of their race, mixing their magic with that of the forest in which they live to form the shelters they live and work within.
Dwarves live in a series of tunnels that are spread throughout the Athol Mountains. Their largest underground city is called Pal'Agorath.They have long ago fallen into legend, for very few people alive have seen a single dwarf, let alone many of them. Dwarven men and women are almost impossible to tell apart; they tend to be the same height and girth, and have long, thick beards. A dwarf will never cut his or her hair unless he or she has lost some sort of battle. The longer the braid down a dwarf’s back, the stronger the warrior. An extremely unknown detail that is not even seen in the legends is that dwarves do, in fact, often possess magic, though often weaker than that of humans and elves.
Demons are creatures that were once human or elf, that has allowed evil spirits to enter their bodies and control their minds. Demons are extremely difficult to control, even for the King, though they are most often seen under his command rather than roaming the wilds on their own. They look like a typical human or elf, but their skin is deathly pale and they have red eyes. Demons are basically shades. They have powerful magic that is aided by the evil souls they have allowed to take over their body. They are strongest at night and are actually weakened during the day. The sunlight makes it difficult for them to see and they hate to feel the heat of it on their skin. They are difficult to kill; only piercing the heart or beheading will truly kill a demon. Demons sometimes will find a particularly powerful mage that they would like to kill and trap the soul of inside their body, and they will make it their mission to do so in order to make their powers even stronger. Also, demons can sense magic within a small town. They are often the ones sent out to find children with magical abilities.
Celestials are akin to demons in that they derive their powers from spirits; however, celestials do not trap souls within them, and the spirits they work with are only good. They are most often seen in their human or elf form. The powers of a celestial last only for a very short time and are most often used in desperate situations, such as a fight with a demon. (For more information, please message the GM.)
Classes:
- Warrior
- Rogue
- Mage
Magic is an energy within some beings that must be focused and released through the hands. Drawing on magic creates a tingly feeling that spreads through the mage while it is being used. The stronger a mage, the more mana, or energy, they have to expend, and the longer they can cast spells. Casting a spell that is beyond one’s power will simply not work, and likely would cause the caster to fall unconscious. The stronger a mage is in his magical prowess, the slower he will age. This has little effect on the elves, who already age very slowly.
King Aievol is a powerful, corrupt human mage who has locked himself behind the safety of The Black Keep in the heart of the Empire's capital city, Bel Harem; which is otherwise known as The Black City. He has an army of mages behind him. Whenever any child that is born exhibits magical abilities, the child is taken from its parents and placed in the Academy of Bel Harem: the King’s very own magical school. There, the children learn the dark magic that the King’s army uses to keep the populace under control and to quell any kind of uprisings.
Normal citizens are not to be armed, by the order of the King. All armorers and blacksmiths are mostly located in the Black City, unless specifically licensed to live and work elsewhere. Armor and weapons are regulated and one must have a signed letter from the general of the King's armies, General Jelyel, in order to purchase weapons. Knives, however, are quite difficult to regulate, so they tend to be a popular weapon. Also, many people that live further away from the capital city create their own bows or spears, so that they may hunt. These must be hidden well, however, from the King's soldiers.
The King’s soldiers are spread throughout the entire country, with a squad of at least 20 located in each town to ensure the peace is kept and the rules are followed. Some of these soldiers are ruthless, while some of them are kinder and will purchase game and other results of a hunt from the townspeople, completely ignoring the fact that they've made their own weapons in order to catch these animals. People that are caught with small infractions against the King's law will typically be punished in their own town. But any who have broken bigger laws, such as being caught with a weapon or killing one of the soldiers, will be brought to the capital city to stand before the King for judgement.
To the southeast of the Perhaedian Empire is the Southern Empire. This land has very few magical folk in it and it is rare indeed for anyone from this country to have seen an elf. They do not venture into the Perhaedian Empire. It is a harsh, desert land beyond the Athol Mountains. The people who live there have had to adapt to the brutal heat and the many sandstorms that batter the countryside. They tend to be olive-skinned with dark hair and dark eyes. Most of the cities are nestled along the southern edge of the Athol Mountains, where they are better protected from the wild desert weather.
Races:
- Human
- Dwarf
- Elf
- Demon
The elves have a city deep within the forest called Ma’el. They hide out in the forest and do not take kindly to strangers entering their territories. They tend to be the shoot first, ask questions later type. Sometimes the younger elves get curious or they become too trusting of the humans that live near the forest, and they are taken as slaves. Elven slaves are a hot commodity and they sell for high prices in the cities. Wealth can be counted on how many elven slaves a man’s estate has.
Magic is not all that commonly found in elves or humans. But when elves, in particular, are born with magic, they tend to be very strong in its use. These elves possessing magical qualities are typically the carpenters of their race, mixing their magic with that of the forest in which they live to form the shelters they live and work within.
Dwarves live in a series of tunnels that are spread throughout the Athol Mountains. Their largest underground city is called Pal'Agorath.They have long ago fallen into legend, for very few people alive have seen a single dwarf, let alone many of them. Dwarven men and women are almost impossible to tell apart; they tend to be the same height and girth, and have long, thick beards. A dwarf will never cut his or her hair unless he or she has lost some sort of battle. The longer the braid down a dwarf’s back, the stronger the warrior. An extremely unknown detail that is not even seen in the legends is that dwarves do, in fact, often possess magic, though often weaker than that of humans and elves.
Demons are creatures that were once human or elf, that has allowed evil spirits to enter their bodies and control their minds. Demons are extremely difficult to control, even for the King, though they are most often seen under his command rather than roaming the wilds on their own. They look like a typical human or elf, but their skin is deathly pale and they have red eyes. Demons are basically shades. They have powerful magic that is aided by the evil souls they have allowed to take over their body. They are strongest at night and are actually weakened during the day. The sunlight makes it difficult for them to see and they hate to feel the heat of it on their skin. They are difficult to kill; only piercing the heart or beheading will truly kill a demon. Demons sometimes will find a particularly powerful mage that they would like to kill and trap the soul of inside their body, and they will make it their mission to do so in order to make their powers even stronger. Also, demons can sense magic within a small town. They are often the ones sent out to find children with magical abilities.
Celestials are akin to demons in that they derive their powers from spirits; however, celestials do not trap souls within them, and the spirits they work with are only good. They are most often seen in their human or elf form. The powers of a celestial last only for a very short time and are most often used in desperate situations, such as a fight with a demon. (For more information, please message the GM.)
Classes:
- Warrior
- Rogue
- Mage
Magic is an energy within some beings that must be focused and released through the hands. Drawing on magic creates a tingly feeling that spreads through the mage while it is being used. The stronger a mage, the more mana, or energy, they have to expend, and the longer they can cast spells. Casting a spell that is beyond one’s power will simply not work, and likely would cause the caster to fall unconscious. The stronger a mage is in his magical prowess, the slower he will age. This has little effect on the elves, who already age very slowly.
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 12 authors
"DO NOT TALK TO ME AS IF YOU KNOW WHAT I HAVE LOST."
She lost it, whatever control Miorie had was gone. Patience and calm had vanished, a mere thought now drifting on the wind and far from her mind. She saw red, ready to strangle.
"I don't care if you are human, halfing, or demon- but nobody speaks to me as if they UNDERSTAND what has been taken from me, when they know nothing about me." Miorie hissed, she bared her teeth like a complete savage. The anger coiled around her mind, destroying any rational thought. She experienced first hand the loss of a loved one, the guilt knowing she had allowed it to happen, buried her in deeper sadness with each day. At times, she wished she was taken instead of Tuyet. In the darkest of times, she would have preferred the ambush killed herself and Tuyet, then take him for enslavement. At least, in death, she knew Tuyet would not be suffering as he was now. Scared, alone, but he was broken- not yet, and that's what pushed Miorie every day. She knew loss, she knew it well- and to have a stranger throw that into her face was the greatest, lowest, strike the Frostfall had ever suffered.
Still, she held back the anger and bitter tears. Her voice shook with a mixture of pain and unmeasurable anger. "You know nothing of the measure we take- that I take- to keep others safe."
The long dangerous trips away from home, scavenging the cities for any sign, any clue of Tuyet. She knew the slave pens, the slave traders, and agonizing pain enslaved elves were in. She freed those she came across, paid in her own blood and flesh. She burnt slave owning homes and trade centers, killed abusers. And there were more like Miorie, more elves who moved in the shadows extracting vengeance. What did this halfing know? What has this halfing done for their people? Her people, as she deemed herself worthy to say. She pointed fingers, place blame on the elves for leaving her mother to her own fate, and now she seeks retribution? A hypocrite, Miorie's mind cried- the fact that she was a half breed didn't even bother her. What bothered her most of this woman's self righteous indignation.
"What have the humans done to aid us? Nothing. They too are guilty of turning and looking the other way. We were left to be DAMNED; nobody to aid us. Why offer aid to others, when none was never given? Trust is not given, it is earned- as is the aid of the elves. But what is there to trust? Slave traders? Murders? Abusers?" She gestured to the destruction of the forest around them. "This is what has been given to us by the outside world! We lived peaceably before the Black City King, and we are re-payed with enslavement!"
Taking a ragged breath Miorie continued, "Let us say you are given the help you need- what then? A rise against the King? We sacrifice the ourselves to allow another human control over the domain. Can you guarantee the safety of the elves? Promise the end of forest destruction? And end all slavery- let those who have been captured go free? Do you think their so-called masters will let their property," she said the word with disgust, "leave so freely?" Miorie could feel her grip on Gwyneria tighten with high emotion. "The Black King dies, we put another in his place, we sign a treaty of peace- but it is all words. We all know the truth- elves will still be exotic pets, even more sought after because they will be illegal. Culturally, we will still be trapped, and unaccepted. Hence, nothing changes for us- we are right back where we are now."
She walked over to Joph, she could see him visibly upset- this is how different they were, as night and day. Taking lives, fighting, it was all familiar to Mirorie and it bothered her less and less. "We leave," she spoke quietly, trying to calm her voice. "A debt is owed, and I ask you help me recover what has been lost to me. Before we set out, I will take you back to Ma'el, and you will recover there...I will ask to have your exile lifted, as a Frostfall my request will go answered."
"Follow then," Miorie called over to the strangers, beginning to walk in the opposite direction. "I have no final say in this negotiation, the royals do. Be warned though, my words will carry weight, and the odds are not stacked in your favor. We travel to Ma'el."
She lost it, whatever control Miorie had was gone. Patience and calm had vanished, a mere thought now drifting on the wind and far from her mind. She saw red, ready to strangle.
"I don't care if you are human, halfing, or demon- but nobody speaks to me as if they UNDERSTAND what has been taken from me, when they know nothing about me." Miorie hissed, she bared her teeth like a complete savage. The anger coiled around her mind, destroying any rational thought. She experienced first hand the loss of a loved one, the guilt knowing she had allowed it to happen, buried her in deeper sadness with each day. At times, she wished she was taken instead of Tuyet. In the darkest of times, she would have preferred the ambush killed herself and Tuyet, then take him for enslavement. At least, in death, she knew Tuyet would not be suffering as he was now. Scared, alone, but he was broken- not yet, and that's what pushed Miorie every day. She knew loss, she knew it well- and to have a stranger throw that into her face was the greatest, lowest, strike the Frostfall had ever suffered.
Still, she held back the anger and bitter tears. Her voice shook with a mixture of pain and unmeasurable anger. "You know nothing of the measure we take- that I take- to keep others safe."
The long dangerous trips away from home, scavenging the cities for any sign, any clue of Tuyet. She knew the slave pens, the slave traders, and agonizing pain enslaved elves were in. She freed those she came across, paid in her own blood and flesh. She burnt slave owning homes and trade centers, killed abusers. And there were more like Miorie, more elves who moved in the shadows extracting vengeance. What did this halfing know? What has this halfing done for their people? Her people, as she deemed herself worthy to say. She pointed fingers, place blame on the elves for leaving her mother to her own fate, and now she seeks retribution? A hypocrite, Miorie's mind cried- the fact that she was a half breed didn't even bother her. What bothered her most of this woman's self righteous indignation.
"What have the humans done to aid us? Nothing. They too are guilty of turning and looking the other way. We were left to be DAMNED; nobody to aid us. Why offer aid to others, when none was never given? Trust is not given, it is earned- as is the aid of the elves. But what is there to trust? Slave traders? Murders? Abusers?" She gestured to the destruction of the forest around them. "This is what has been given to us by the outside world! We lived peaceably before the Black City King, and we are re-payed with enslavement!"
Taking a ragged breath Miorie continued, "Let us say you are given the help you need- what then? A rise against the King? We sacrifice the ourselves to allow another human control over the domain. Can you guarantee the safety of the elves? Promise the end of forest destruction? And end all slavery- let those who have been captured go free? Do you think their so-called masters will let their property," she said the word with disgust, "leave so freely?" Miorie could feel her grip on Gwyneria tighten with high emotion. "The Black King dies, we put another in his place, we sign a treaty of peace- but it is all words. We all know the truth- elves will still be exotic pets, even more sought after because they will be illegal. Culturally, we will still be trapped, and unaccepted. Hence, nothing changes for us- we are right back where we are now."
She walked over to Joph, she could see him visibly upset- this is how different they were, as night and day. Taking lives, fighting, it was all familiar to Mirorie and it bothered her less and less. "We leave," she spoke quietly, trying to calm her voice. "A debt is owed, and I ask you help me recover what has been lost to me. Before we set out, I will take you back to Ma'el, and you will recover there...I will ask to have your exile lifted, as a Frostfall my request will go answered."
"Follow then," Miorie called over to the strangers, beginning to walk in the opposite direction. "I have no final say in this negotiation, the royals do. Be warned though, my words will carry weight, and the odds are not stacked in your favor. We travel to Ma'el."
"You have my blade, Frostfall," Joph replied quietly, rising to his feet.
He sighed quietly to himself. She was stubborn, and he didn't feel like arguing. If she wanted his exile lifted, so be it. He owed her a debt; he would repay it however she saw fit.
His exile was technically self-imposed. The council, many years ago, forgave him for his murder of another elf in cold blood, for taking law into his own hands.
It was unfortunate, really.
The other elf had disrespected nature, and Joph wouldn't stand for it. He was younger then, less in-tune with nature, but just as in love with it... He didn't want to kill the disrespectful elf, but the pair erupted into a duel, ending in Joph's favour. He was, after all, one of the best bladesmen in Ma'el at the time. Of course, he had had his sword then, instead of the clumsy axe that he used as a weapon these days. But those days were long gone.
He tried to push the past from his mind, instead concentrating on what he would say to the elves upon his arrival. There were some he hadn't seen in years, decades. Would he recognize old friends? Would they recognize him? He doubted it. He hadn't changed much in the years of his exile, but it had been a long while...
He looked at the human travelers. They seemed determined enough, though he was unsure of their purpose. He didn't agree with the prospect of war. War brought destruction, brought agony, and he felt the world had had enough of that.
He turned to Miorie. He still didn't know much of the elven woman, but she was determined to recover what she had lost, determined to do what was best for the Elves. Joph was determined to help.
He sighed quietly to himself. She was stubborn, and he didn't feel like arguing. If she wanted his exile lifted, so be it. He owed her a debt; he would repay it however she saw fit.
His exile was technically self-imposed. The council, many years ago, forgave him for his murder of another elf in cold blood, for taking law into his own hands.
It was unfortunate, really.
The other elf had disrespected nature, and Joph wouldn't stand for it. He was younger then, less in-tune with nature, but just as in love with it... He didn't want to kill the disrespectful elf, but the pair erupted into a duel, ending in Joph's favour. He was, after all, one of the best bladesmen in Ma'el at the time. Of course, he had had his sword then, instead of the clumsy axe that he used as a weapon these days. But those days were long gone.
He tried to push the past from his mind, instead concentrating on what he would say to the elves upon his arrival. There were some he hadn't seen in years, decades. Would he recognize old friends? Would they recognize him? He doubted it. He hadn't changed much in the years of his exile, but it had been a long while...
He looked at the human travelers. They seemed determined enough, though he was unsure of their purpose. He didn't agree with the prospect of war. War brought destruction, brought agony, and he felt the world had had enough of that.
He turned to Miorie. He still didn't know much of the elven woman, but she was determined to recover what she had lost, determined to do what was best for the Elves. Joph was determined to help.
Kayo followed silently thinking about what to do but deciding to follow Asher's lead and go with whatever he chose.
Sometimes Sithe wished that he could sleep. Sometimes he wished that the shadows inside of him would allow him enough peace to close his eyes and drift off into nothingness. Alas- he was not so lucky. The demons screamed in his heart like the shrieks of a thousands tortured souls. They clawed at the inside of his eyelids like spades, ripping and tearing until he forced himself to move. To run if only to get away from them. But he would never get away. He would never be able to run fast enough to escape himself.
He pressed a hand over the bandages pressed over his pure eye. He knew why he felt such pain. He knew why it hurt so badly to live his own life. It was because he was living for two. The boy of Walker Hart was still trapped inside of him fighting the demons. He was a strong kid. Sithe would give him that. He had been fighting for a hundred years and had yet to give into the darkness. As much as he suffered and squirmed behind the black walls of his demon body, he remained deep down in the black pit of Sithe's heart, praying to a God he no longer believed in that he would be able to break free.
Sithe sighed. Despite the baggage he carried, the human living in his heart, he carried it willingly. He didn't know if it was the strength of Walker keeping him from removing the bandages and exposing Walker to the darkness finally, a darkness that would break him down completely and send all that remained of the boy into hell. He was't sure it was the Walker inside him that kept his fingers from tearing the bandages free. It didn't matter if it was the human or Sithe himself that allowed the boy to live in torture within their shared body. Either way, they had lived together for a century and it was likely to stay that way.
The lithe demon scooped up a handful of ashes off of the forest floor with a grin. He shared a body with a human. But that didn't keep his demon part from enjoying the destruction. It wouldn't keep him from enjoying the looks on the faces of those he had broken in the fire.
He pressed a hand over the bandages pressed over his pure eye. He knew why he felt such pain. He knew why it hurt so badly to live his own life. It was because he was living for two. The boy of Walker Hart was still trapped inside of him fighting the demons. He was a strong kid. Sithe would give him that. He had been fighting for a hundred years and had yet to give into the darkness. As much as he suffered and squirmed behind the black walls of his demon body, he remained deep down in the black pit of Sithe's heart, praying to a God he no longer believed in that he would be able to break free.
Sithe sighed. Despite the baggage he carried, the human living in his heart, he carried it willingly. He didn't know if it was the strength of Walker keeping him from removing the bandages and exposing Walker to the darkness finally, a darkness that would break him down completely and send all that remained of the boy into hell. He was't sure it was the Walker inside him that kept his fingers from tearing the bandages free. It didn't matter if it was the human or Sithe himself that allowed the boy to live in torture within their shared body. Either way, they had lived together for a century and it was likely to stay that way.
The lithe demon scooped up a handful of ashes off of the forest floor with a grin. He shared a body with a human. But that didn't keep his demon part from enjoying the destruction. It wouldn't keep him from enjoying the looks on the faces of those he had broken in the fire.
Pyrian became less and less interested as the conversation erupted into argument. He simply chuckled at the futile attempts by either side to set themselves up as victims. Anira had nothing to bargain with other than a half heritage, yet here she was ridiculing the elf. She really was a fool, he moved over to stand next to Rowan. He wasn't in this for the halfelf's pathetic idea of overthrowing the King, his interest was merely in the destruction of the system. The annihilation of the Academy and all the oppression and imprisonment it stood for. He couldn't care less what replaced all of this, another tyrant rises and it would just serve to preoccupy him until the end of his days. Certainly he wouldn't let himself age. He was trained to be powerful. A killer and destroyer, enjoying the irony of turning these skills on those who molded him.
Anira was a fool with a misguided ideal of freedom and righteousness. Yet this elf was a utter bitch, not many other ways to describe it. There was no call for her to respond the way she did earlier. Now she was throwing a pitiful tantrum like a pitiful child. Not at all like the proud and respectful race she represented and Fenris respected. A child with a deadly eye and a bow. He reminded himself, he couldn't get too relaxed or let his guard down. She ranted on and he got a further impression of her; A racist, stubborn bitch. The worst kind.
"I'm expecting that even if they didn't scout us the patrol would know we're here by now." He mentioned to the human archer, accompanied with an eager grin. All this arguing, while a bit of entertainment, got tiring very quickly. A fight would be a nice addition. So he was notably disappointed and surprised when the elf called that, despite all her posturing, she would lead them to Ma'el. He waited for the others to lead on following the woman's lead. He was certainly both anxious and eager. He wanted to see how the elves lived, free from the slavery faced by those beyond the woods. Yet this forest was a place of hidden threat and a guide he certainly couldn't trust. He gave a little sigh, worst of all he was not stuck with the two angsty woman. Maybe it was a poor decision to join this little entourage.
Anira was a fool with a misguided ideal of freedom and righteousness. Yet this elf was a utter bitch, not many other ways to describe it. There was no call for her to respond the way she did earlier. Now she was throwing a pitiful tantrum like a pitiful child. Not at all like the proud and respectful race she represented and Fenris respected. A child with a deadly eye and a bow. He reminded himself, he couldn't get too relaxed or let his guard down. She ranted on and he got a further impression of her; A racist, stubborn bitch. The worst kind.
"I'm expecting that even if they didn't scout us the patrol would know we're here by now." He mentioned to the human archer, accompanied with an eager grin. All this arguing, while a bit of entertainment, got tiring very quickly. A fight would be a nice addition. So he was notably disappointed and surprised when the elf called that, despite all her posturing, she would lead them to Ma'el. He waited for the others to lead on following the woman's lead. He was certainly both anxious and eager. He wanted to see how the elves lived, free from the slavery faced by those beyond the woods. Yet this forest was a place of hidden threat and a guide he certainly couldn't trust. He gave a little sigh, worst of all he was not stuck with the two angsty woman. Maybe it was a poor decision to join this little entourage.
They traveled in what seemed in comfortable, but actually uncomfortable silence. Miorie mulled over the fact that her father was most likely going to tan her hide when she came home with three strangers in tow. Only elves knew the way to Ma'el, that was why it was so safeguarded; a select few knew the actual path to the elven community. There was a time though, when trade between all the races were welcome on the way and in Ma'el- but distrust grew between the races, and soon the elves had become isolated. It seemed to work for them, they were prosperous on their land, had everything they need in order to survive. They respected the land, and took only what was needed; ensuring there would be more for the future. There was no need for the outside world and it's troubles.
They left the desolation and destruction of what was once Joph's outpost and began to see the rising vegetation and nature. The part of the forest was untouched, the fire already being put out or died away. Life was still here, growing, breathing magic into the air.
She walked along, from time to time picking up the odd plant or herb, sniffing it and feeling the texture. She would pocket a few, making a note for herself to properly place them in her herbology box when they stopped for a rest.
Rest.
That brought up another question...Ma'el was about two days travel, she was going to have to sleep at some point. Not that whatever sleep she was to get would not be deep. They wouldn't kill her, Miorie was their guide to Ma'el- and if they did, Joph most likely wouldn't take them either. Regardless, it would be a shallow slumber, in case somebody did try to a dagger to her throat.
Stopping, Miorie listened. The sway of the leaves, a far off chirp of a bird, and the gentle bubbling of river. The Pa'ha river must be close by, and it would be a good place to make camp for the night. In the morning they would decide to either cut across the remaining wood, or continue to follow the river through Kor Lake and down into Ma'el that way. Not like she was playing a tourist guide...
She didn't say anything, just strolled leisurely in the direction of Pa'hal. She looked over at Joph, at least it would allow him to clean up properly, and clean our his injuries. He was going to need new bandages again. Miorie scowled, she left home about a week ago, and she was about to use nearly half her supplies. Good thing they were going back, she could restock again.
Not that taking strangers, much less two humans, into Ma'el would be a comfortable situation.
Miorie almost groaned out loud, thinking about her father's reaction. He would not be amused...She could just see the whole conversation playing out. "Well , you see Father, they want to over throw the Black King! I said it was bad idea, but you know, we're not exactly the royal family so the decision wasn't mine to make. Honor-bound and all that, remember?" Mercy, her head would be a on spike. Some would say Miorie inherited only a half of her father's pride, the gods blessed her with half of her mother's humbleness- if this group thought she was hard to deal with, Endzall Frostfall was a whole other case. But, the Frostfall pride was kept her family as strong as protectors as they were- they would die on their feet with their dignity intact, rather on their knees with broken spirit.
Leading the company further south, they finally hit Pa'hal river.
The water was clear, rushing with noise and the sound of nature. Tree along the banks grew wildly tall and untamed, the foliage was plentiful and thriving. Pa'hal was a glorious river and if this impressed them, Ma'el would blow them away.
Throwing her satchel on the ground, Miorie stretched for a moment. "I suppose we'll make camp here, Ma'el is still about a day or so away."
Not really caring what the others did, Miorie went straight to the river and began to collect Wateroot. She sat on her haunches, and dug around in the shallow end of the river. Her fingers splayed across the mud, feeling for the thick plant root. She felt one, and tugged it free, cleaning it in the water before she examined it. It was fat brown root, and would be useful along her adventures, good for burns or a numbing agent. Miorie continued to farm in silence, at some point she would have enough wateroot and she would have to find different herbs to add to her collection.
They left the desolation and destruction of what was once Joph's outpost and began to see the rising vegetation and nature. The part of the forest was untouched, the fire already being put out or died away. Life was still here, growing, breathing magic into the air.
She walked along, from time to time picking up the odd plant or herb, sniffing it and feeling the texture. She would pocket a few, making a note for herself to properly place them in her herbology box when they stopped for a rest.
Rest.
That brought up another question...Ma'el was about two days travel, she was going to have to sleep at some point. Not that whatever sleep she was to get would not be deep. They wouldn't kill her, Miorie was their guide to Ma'el- and if they did, Joph most likely wouldn't take them either. Regardless, it would be a shallow slumber, in case somebody did try to a dagger to her throat.
Stopping, Miorie listened. The sway of the leaves, a far off chirp of a bird, and the gentle bubbling of river. The Pa'ha river must be close by, and it would be a good place to make camp for the night. In the morning they would decide to either cut across the remaining wood, or continue to follow the river through Kor Lake and down into Ma'el that way. Not like she was playing a tourist guide...
She didn't say anything, just strolled leisurely in the direction of Pa'hal. She looked over at Joph, at least it would allow him to clean up properly, and clean our his injuries. He was going to need new bandages again. Miorie scowled, she left home about a week ago, and she was about to use nearly half her supplies. Good thing they were going back, she could restock again.
Not that taking strangers, much less two humans, into Ma'el would be a comfortable situation.
Miorie almost groaned out loud, thinking about her father's reaction. He would not be amused...She could just see the whole conversation playing out. "Well , you see Father, they want to over throw the Black King! I said it was bad idea, but you know, we're not exactly the royal family so the decision wasn't mine to make. Honor-bound and all that, remember?" Mercy, her head would be a on spike. Some would say Miorie inherited only a half of her father's pride, the gods blessed her with half of her mother's humbleness- if this group thought she was hard to deal with, Endzall Frostfall was a whole other case. But, the Frostfall pride was kept her family as strong as protectors as they were- they would die on their feet with their dignity intact, rather on their knees with broken spirit.
Leading the company further south, they finally hit Pa'hal river.
The water was clear, rushing with noise and the sound of nature. Tree along the banks grew wildly tall and untamed, the foliage was plentiful and thriving. Pa'hal was a glorious river and if this impressed them, Ma'el would blow them away.
Throwing her satchel on the ground, Miorie stretched for a moment. "I suppose we'll make camp here, Ma'el is still about a day or so away."
Not really caring what the others did, Miorie went straight to the river and began to collect Wateroot. She sat on her haunches, and dug around in the shallow end of the river. Her fingers splayed across the mud, feeling for the thick plant root. She felt one, and tugged it free, cleaning it in the water before she examined it. It was fat brown root, and would be useful along her adventures, good for burns or a numbing agent. Miorie continued to farm in silence, at some point she would have enough wateroot and she would have to find different herbs to add to her collection.
Rowan listened as the other two women argued, without realising she was doing it she began to tap her foot impatiently and her expression changed from vaguely interested to outright boredom. She heard Pyrian come and stand next to her and her boredom lifted long enough for her to grin at him. At least there was one amongst this group, other than her, that was not downright rude and unfriendly. Not that she could blame the elves but still she had tried to smooth things over, for all the good it had done. The elf had simply ignored her attempts at apology so Rowan decided she would be herself and damn them if they didn't like it.
"Try and be nice and look where it bloody gets me." She muttered quietly to Pyrian. "Remind me why I decided to come with the half elf again. Oh wait now I remember, the chance to cause havoc. Me and my rash decisions."
She grinned at Pyrian again wondering if he was as bored as she was, he certainly looked it. She was about to suggest they turn around and leave when the female elf announced begrudgingly that she would take them to to the elf city.
"Oh goody." She muttered sarcastically as she turned and began heading through the forest, Rowan hesitated for a moment before following with a sigh. They traveled in silence, the air so thick Rowan was sure she could cut it with one of her long knives and she was actually relieved when they stopped by a river to camp. She couldn't deny it was a good place to camp and a sensible idea to do so, especially given the state the male elf and Aneira were in. She doubted that them turning up covered in blood and gore would improve matters. Having not actually done any fighting, she grimaced at that as she disliked not being useful, Rowan was relatively clean. She seated herself on a comfortable area of grass and began unpacking her things. She ensured her bow was in reach if needed before laying out her bedroll.
She looked at Pyrian. "If you don't fancy having your head bitten off you're welcome to camp with me. I won't bite." She grinned mischievously. "Not unless you want me to." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively before chuckling to herself.
Uncharacteristically for her she had a moment of self doubt and worried that he did not appreciate her sense of humour but then shrugged it off telling herself she didn't care what anyone thought of her.
"Try and be nice and look where it bloody gets me." She muttered quietly to Pyrian. "Remind me why I decided to come with the half elf again. Oh wait now I remember, the chance to cause havoc. Me and my rash decisions."
She grinned at Pyrian again wondering if he was as bored as she was, he certainly looked it. She was about to suggest they turn around and leave when the female elf announced begrudgingly that she would take them to to the elf city.
"Oh goody." She muttered sarcastically as she turned and began heading through the forest, Rowan hesitated for a moment before following with a sigh. They traveled in silence, the air so thick Rowan was sure she could cut it with one of her long knives and she was actually relieved when they stopped by a river to camp. She couldn't deny it was a good place to camp and a sensible idea to do so, especially given the state the male elf and Aneira were in. She doubted that them turning up covered in blood and gore would improve matters. Having not actually done any fighting, she grimaced at that as she disliked not being useful, Rowan was relatively clean. She seated herself on a comfortable area of grass and began unpacking her things. She ensured her bow was in reach if needed before laying out her bedroll.
She looked at Pyrian. "If you don't fancy having your head bitten off you're welcome to camp with me. I won't bite." She grinned mischievously. "Not unless you want me to." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively before chuckling to herself.
Uncharacteristically for her she had a moment of self doubt and worried that he did not appreciate her sense of humour but then shrugged it off telling herself she didn't care what anyone thought of her.
Joph followed the party in silence. His spirits felt low; normally, he would have burst into song, but he didn't feel it was appropriate.
However, as the forest grew more and more lively, his spirits rose. The nature thriving around him uplifted him-- he was glad the flame had not reached this far into the forest. Soon, they reached the Pa'hal river; Joph hadn't been this deep into the forest in years, but it hadn't changed-- only grew.
Without anything aside from the clothes on his back, he made his way to the river, walking along it until he was a little ways downstream of everyone else. Once there, he removed his leather armour and tunic, washing them quickly but thoroughly in the coursing water. He hung them up to dry on a low branch of a tree before cleaning his weapons. He spent considerable time on these, making sure they didn't stain-- That they shone, even. Lastly, he made his way into the water, cleaning himself and his trousers.
Surrounded by nature once again and in a pleasant stream, he felt rejuvenated, and his spirits were once again high-- Though not nearly at the peak they were. He decided thus to quietly sing himself an old traveling shanty; it fit the conditions perfectly, he thought.
On the topic of thought, the bathe presented the perfect time to think.
What of his newfound companions? He hadn't thought much of the humans-- He had been distracted. The white-haired man seemed to enjoy destruction; he certainly admired Joph's handiwork. Joph wasn't sure he agreed with the man's views, but he certainly had to admit the man was a nice addition to the 'team.'
The other archer, Joph wasn't sure about. She was witty, to say the least. She, too, seemed to enjoy destruction. Joph felt she would be an asset-- If she was a good shot, then they had both a strong ranged line and melee line to harrass the Black King's forces, should they indeed go to war.
The half-elf was certainly different. She struck Joph as somewhat odd, though she seemed like a decent enough woman. He didn't know much about her, aside from intentions-- And even then, did he really know her intentions that well? He decided it best not to dwell on the subject, as he felt his intentions would become clear as their quest drove on.
Miorie was young, yes. Battle-hardened, too. Intent on vengeance-- Or justice, depending on which side of the coin you looked at. Joph was still inclined to help her. It would give him a reason to go back to the elves, a way to repent, a way to pay for his crimes.
But the quest to kill the king... That was interesting indeed. If the elves told him to go, he would. If the elves didn't welcome him back to Ma'el, he would be forced to go. He couldn't bog down Miorie or go elsewhere-- He would have to follow the human travelers and aid them on their quest.
He winced as he removed a few of the bandages, sticking his head under the small waves, washing out his hair and face, and cleaning the wound on his head. It stung, but he felt better. Whether it was company or nature, he didn't know, but even in his sorry state, he felt better.
_______
Clean, he emerged from the river, putting on his now-dried trousers and tunic. Cleaning the remains of his tattered cloak, he wrapped his armour and weapons in it, using it instead as a bag for his things. On the way back to the others, he searched for various herbs he could use to patch up the wound in his side. He didn't feel right taking from Miorie without giving in return.
Coming across a few of such herbs, he crafted a lotion-like product, smearing it over the wound, all the while humming to himself. It thickened quickly to prevent bleeding and infection, though it was a little uncomfortable in that it limited his movement.
"Oh well," he muttered out loud, washing the remaining lotion from his hands and bowing to nature in thanks.
Taking his things back to camp, he placed them on a low branch in a tree, one he could easily access. With that, he sat on the ground at the base of the tree, inspecting and enjoying nature.
However, as the forest grew more and more lively, his spirits rose. The nature thriving around him uplifted him-- he was glad the flame had not reached this far into the forest. Soon, they reached the Pa'hal river; Joph hadn't been this deep into the forest in years, but it hadn't changed-- only grew.
Without anything aside from the clothes on his back, he made his way to the river, walking along it until he was a little ways downstream of everyone else. Once there, he removed his leather armour and tunic, washing them quickly but thoroughly in the coursing water. He hung them up to dry on a low branch of a tree before cleaning his weapons. He spent considerable time on these, making sure they didn't stain-- That they shone, even. Lastly, he made his way into the water, cleaning himself and his trousers.
Surrounded by nature once again and in a pleasant stream, he felt rejuvenated, and his spirits were once again high-- Though not nearly at the peak they were. He decided thus to quietly sing himself an old traveling shanty; it fit the conditions perfectly, he thought.
On the topic of thought, the bathe presented the perfect time to think.
What of his newfound companions? He hadn't thought much of the humans-- He had been distracted. The white-haired man seemed to enjoy destruction; he certainly admired Joph's handiwork. Joph wasn't sure he agreed with the man's views, but he certainly had to admit the man was a nice addition to the 'team.'
The other archer, Joph wasn't sure about. She was witty, to say the least. She, too, seemed to enjoy destruction. Joph felt she would be an asset-- If she was a good shot, then they had both a strong ranged line and melee line to harrass the Black King's forces, should they indeed go to war.
The half-elf was certainly different. She struck Joph as somewhat odd, though she seemed like a decent enough woman. He didn't know much about her, aside from intentions-- And even then, did he really know her intentions that well? He decided it best not to dwell on the subject, as he felt his intentions would become clear as their quest drove on.
Miorie was young, yes. Battle-hardened, too. Intent on vengeance-- Or justice, depending on which side of the coin you looked at. Joph was still inclined to help her. It would give him a reason to go back to the elves, a way to repent, a way to pay for his crimes.
But the quest to kill the king... That was interesting indeed. If the elves told him to go, he would. If the elves didn't welcome him back to Ma'el, he would be forced to go. He couldn't bog down Miorie or go elsewhere-- He would have to follow the human travelers and aid them on their quest.
He winced as he removed a few of the bandages, sticking his head under the small waves, washing out his hair and face, and cleaning the wound on his head. It stung, but he felt better. Whether it was company or nature, he didn't know, but even in his sorry state, he felt better.
_______
Clean, he emerged from the river, putting on his now-dried trousers and tunic. Cleaning the remains of his tattered cloak, he wrapped his armour and weapons in it, using it instead as a bag for his things. On the way back to the others, he searched for various herbs he could use to patch up the wound in his side. He didn't feel right taking from Miorie without giving in return.
Coming across a few of such herbs, he crafted a lotion-like product, smearing it over the wound, all the while humming to himself. It thickened quickly to prevent bleeding and infection, though it was a little uncomfortable in that it limited his movement.
"Oh well," he muttered out loud, washing the remaining lotion from his hands and bowing to nature in thanks.
Taking his things back to camp, he placed them on a low branch in a tree, one he could easily access. With that, he sat on the ground at the base of the tree, inspecting and enjoying nature.
The smell of blood was something that any demon could follow and it was strong in Sithe's nostrils. It pulled at the hairs on the back of his neck, prickled at his white skin and drew him in like a bee to honey. A grin split his face as he traveled purposefully through the forest. It was not the blood of anyone he knew. It was the smell of dead soldiers. The smell of the king's men splashed over the hands of murderers and victims alike. This was the blood of anger. The blood of mutilation and revenge. And there was only a couple people who had so much hatred against the king to kill and slay so many.
The sweet tang of copper led him to the edge of a river but it was still so far off. He could hear nothing, sense no movement over the rush of water in the river below. But the blood still lingered. He crouched on a rock jutting from the river bed, head shifting back and forth in curiosity. With one hand he scooped a handful of water up, sipping at the stream carefully. It was there the tang was strongest. The taste of blood in the water sent a hiss through his lips and his red eye thinned to a dangerous black slit. Blood in the water. There was blood in the water and it was flowing from upstream.
He snickered to himself, reaching under his mustard yellow scarf and pulling out his little black dragon. The shadow hissed and flicked his small tail, tongue sliding between black lips to taste the air. Sithe always kept the conjuration with him. It was the only company he ever had and the only company he would not need to take care of. The shadow didn't eat. He didn't grow or die. He was simply a piece of Sithe's mind, a little shadow beast drawn from his heart to the outside. It took times like this that reminded the demon why he kept the little dragon around. He could not scout upstream on his own. There was no telling what sort of magic they possessed and if they would be able to sense his presence so near. But the shadow was a different story.
"Shadow, do me a favor and fly upstream a bit."
The little dragon twitted in response, black wings pumping to stay aloft.
"Report back to me what you find." Sithe grinned, sitting comfortably on the rock. It was a waiting game.
The sweet tang of copper led him to the edge of a river but it was still so far off. He could hear nothing, sense no movement over the rush of water in the river below. But the blood still lingered. He crouched on a rock jutting from the river bed, head shifting back and forth in curiosity. With one hand he scooped a handful of water up, sipping at the stream carefully. It was there the tang was strongest. The taste of blood in the water sent a hiss through his lips and his red eye thinned to a dangerous black slit. Blood in the water. There was blood in the water and it was flowing from upstream.
He snickered to himself, reaching under his mustard yellow scarf and pulling out his little black dragon. The shadow hissed and flicked his small tail, tongue sliding between black lips to taste the air. Sithe always kept the conjuration with him. It was the only company he ever had and the only company he would not need to take care of. The shadow didn't eat. He didn't grow or die. He was simply a piece of Sithe's mind, a little shadow beast drawn from his heart to the outside. It took times like this that reminded the demon why he kept the little dragon around. He could not scout upstream on his own. There was no telling what sort of magic they possessed and if they would be able to sense his presence so near. But the shadow was a different story.
"Shadow, do me a favor and fly upstream a bit."
The little dragon twitted in response, black wings pumping to stay aloft.
"Report back to me what you find." Sithe grinned, sitting comfortably on the rock. It was a waiting game.
Anira couldn’t help the way her heart jumped in her chest when Miorie agreed to take them to the elven city. She was excited and nervous. But she kept her face impassive, giving a slight nod of her head before beginning to follow. She stuck between the two groups, her shoulders slumping slightly as the tension left her and her energy began to wane heavily. The young woman made her way silently through the forest behind their leaders, feeling more peaceful than she ever had before, despite the fact that her entire reason for being there was to plan a revolution.
When at last they stopped by the river, Anira stepped up to the edge of the water, downstream somewhat from the female elf, and sank down. She looked down at herself, noting how her armor hung lopsided from her haste in putting it on. It was covered in splatters of blood. She unbuckled the arm and slid it off, then bent over the water to clean herself. She dipped her whole head into the water, drinking deeply of the icy cold, clean liquid, and came back up, wincing at the sting of the scratches on her face. She smoothed her hair back before cleaning out a slight gash in her thigh that she hadn’t noticed before. She ripped part of her sleeve away and wrapped it around the wound to be healed later when she had more energy. Then, she got to cleaning her armor.
When she had finished, Anira looked up to find Joph returning to their small camp. She noted the bandages at his side, and let out a soft sigh before pushing herself up. The young woman lay her armor across a boulder to allow it to dry, then moved toward the male elf. She cleared her throat softly as she stepped up in front of him and squatted down so they would be at the same eye level. “You’re injured,” she said in a soft voice. “I have magic. I could heal it for you, if you would like. It wouldn’t be completely healed, as I just don’t have the energy for it now, but it would be better than it is now, most likely...”
Anira offered the male a small smile. Well, at least she was trying to be polite. It was not her strong point, but she was grateful for his kindness and the fact that he and the other elf were leading them toward their city. She would help however she could.
When at last they stopped by the river, Anira stepped up to the edge of the water, downstream somewhat from the female elf, and sank down. She looked down at herself, noting how her armor hung lopsided from her haste in putting it on. It was covered in splatters of blood. She unbuckled the arm and slid it off, then bent over the water to clean herself. She dipped her whole head into the water, drinking deeply of the icy cold, clean liquid, and came back up, wincing at the sting of the scratches on her face. She smoothed her hair back before cleaning out a slight gash in her thigh that she hadn’t noticed before. She ripped part of her sleeve away and wrapped it around the wound to be healed later when she had more energy. Then, she got to cleaning her armor.
When she had finished, Anira looked up to find Joph returning to their small camp. She noted the bandages at his side, and let out a soft sigh before pushing herself up. The young woman lay her armor across a boulder to allow it to dry, then moved toward the male elf. She cleared her throat softly as she stepped up in front of him and squatted down so they would be at the same eye level. “You’re injured,” she said in a soft voice. “I have magic. I could heal it for you, if you would like. It wouldn’t be completely healed, as I just don’t have the energy for it now, but it would be better than it is now, most likely...”
Anira offered the male a small smile. Well, at least she was trying to be polite. It was not her strong point, but she was grateful for his kindness and the fact that he and the other elf were leading them toward their city. She would help however she could.
A pile of waterroot laid next to Miorie, she examined them once more making sure they were in good condition to be used. She would most likely press the herb, dry it out, and reserve it for later use. She felt a headache coming on- most likely from the stress and lack of water. Trudging over to her bag, the Frostfall sat down, and found her herb box. She placed her newly farmed herbs into an empty compartment, she scanned her herbs looking for a particular vined plant that would help with her oncoming headache.
There is was, snake vine. She took out the stringy dried plant and thoughtfully chewed on it.
Miorie dug in her satchel again, this time producing a small notebook and odd quill. The quill looked like an ordinary quill, a long bird feather, a pointed tip, but she had no inkwell. Instead the ink was flowing through the hallowed bones of the bird feather. She found this particular invention a year or so back, and bargained it for a week's worth of labor. It was nifty thing to have- it allowed her to write in her journal, but never having to worry about spilling ink. When she was in town she would let the quill sit in an ink pot, and it would soak up the black liquid.
She scratched away at the journal page making notes of the day. During her journey, Miorie learned cataloging her encounters proved to be useful. She came across many faces, even more names- if she ever needed to jog her memory, she looked back at the journal. A few times it saved her from having to wrack her brain, and proved to be useful. She logged notes, clues, of Tuyet and his last known location, the last people to own him. Information, in it's many forms and many subjects, was useful.
As she wrote, it occurred to her that Miorie did not know the strangers names. The halfling was...Anira? But the humans, she didn't recall hearing their names. Nor did Miorie ever introduce herself...Not liked it matter, she didn't owe them anything. She was already trekking through the forest and guiding them to Ma'el. They could ask for her name if they desired as such.
After finishing her entry, and marking on her map another known location for waterroot, Miorie stood up and wandered into the forest in silence. She left her pack in the same spot, indicating she would be coming back at some point. She scourged the ground for twigs and fallen branches, a few dry leaves. Returning with a small pile of timber to be burnt Miorie settled down again making a fire pit, she only needed one last thing. Miorie fished another plant from her herb box, a grey moss that was commonly refereed to as grave moss. She placed a small clump on the timber, and began to rub two sticks together.
Generally, she would have used a match to get the fire started. However, the grave moss was dry and crisp, and highly flammable. Just enough friction to generate barely enough heat and puff! The fire sputtered to life, smoke tendrils climbing for the sky. A fire to keep warm and to cook. She let the flames grow just large enough, and gain heat before she rummaged for two sweet potatoes. Never let it be said, Miorie Frostfall was never prepared. She journeyed for a long time by herself, she became self reliant, and packed what she knew she would need to in order to make it in between towns. The sweet potatoes sat inside the fire, cooking and softening, and after some time passing they finished. The light, sweet smell of the rooted plant wafted around their small camp.
Miorie peeled back the skin, and ate half of one of the potatoes. Surprisingly, she left the other half and whole potato near the fire, for anyone to grab. She didn't announce it of course...If they wanted it, they wanted it. Miorie's poor excuse, or failed attempt, at an apology. She was never good at that.
She scratched away in her journal again.
There is was, snake vine. She took out the stringy dried plant and thoughtfully chewed on it.
Miorie dug in her satchel again, this time producing a small notebook and odd quill. The quill looked like an ordinary quill, a long bird feather, a pointed tip, but she had no inkwell. Instead the ink was flowing through the hallowed bones of the bird feather. She found this particular invention a year or so back, and bargained it for a week's worth of labor. It was nifty thing to have- it allowed her to write in her journal, but never having to worry about spilling ink. When she was in town she would let the quill sit in an ink pot, and it would soak up the black liquid.
She scratched away at the journal page making notes of the day. During her journey, Miorie learned cataloging her encounters proved to be useful. She came across many faces, even more names- if she ever needed to jog her memory, she looked back at the journal. A few times it saved her from having to wrack her brain, and proved to be useful. She logged notes, clues, of Tuyet and his last known location, the last people to own him. Information, in it's many forms and many subjects, was useful.
As she wrote, it occurred to her that Miorie did not know the strangers names. The halfling was...Anira? But the humans, she didn't recall hearing their names. Nor did Miorie ever introduce herself...Not liked it matter, she didn't owe them anything. She was already trekking through the forest and guiding them to Ma'el. They could ask for her name if they desired as such.
After finishing her entry, and marking on her map another known location for waterroot, Miorie stood up and wandered into the forest in silence. She left her pack in the same spot, indicating she would be coming back at some point. She scourged the ground for twigs and fallen branches, a few dry leaves. Returning with a small pile of timber to be burnt Miorie settled down again making a fire pit, she only needed one last thing. Miorie fished another plant from her herb box, a grey moss that was commonly refereed to as grave moss. She placed a small clump on the timber, and began to rub two sticks together.
Generally, she would have used a match to get the fire started. However, the grave moss was dry and crisp, and highly flammable. Just enough friction to generate barely enough heat and puff! The fire sputtered to life, smoke tendrils climbing for the sky. A fire to keep warm and to cook. She let the flames grow just large enough, and gain heat before she rummaged for two sweet potatoes. Never let it be said, Miorie Frostfall was never prepared. She journeyed for a long time by herself, she became self reliant, and packed what she knew she would need to in order to make it in between towns. The sweet potatoes sat inside the fire, cooking and softening, and after some time passing they finished. The light, sweet smell of the rooted plant wafted around their small camp.
Miorie peeled back the skin, and ate half of one of the potatoes. Surprisingly, she left the other half and whole potato near the fire, for anyone to grab. She didn't announce it of course...If they wanted it, they wanted it. Miorie's poor excuse, or failed attempt, at an apology. She was never good at that.
She scratched away in her journal again.
Joph smiled at Anira's offer, bowing his head. "Thank you," he replied. "But you'll need your strength. From the looks of things, you, too, had your own wounds to heal."
He patted the bandages on his side. "Besides, I'll likely get healed when we reach Ma'el. I'm not sure how the elves will react to you. They don't usually take well to outsiders; At least, they didn't, back in my time."
He inspected her for a moment. She had magic, then. Strong? He assumed so. She looked tired, a little ragged; even the thought of healing in such a state awed him. "Do not overwork yourself on my behalf," he continued, smile broadening slightly, though he left it at that. It had been a while since he had interacted socially with a being outside of his forest home, and usually he only told people to turn back or to not harm the forest.
It was strange to have companions again, but he felt he enjoyed it. He hoped he didn't offend Anira by denying her request-- He truly felt she would need her strength in the days to come, and didn't feel he merited a usage of it.
He patted the bandages on his side. "Besides, I'll likely get healed when we reach Ma'el. I'm not sure how the elves will react to you. They don't usually take well to outsiders; At least, they didn't, back in my time."
He inspected her for a moment. She had magic, then. Strong? He assumed so. She looked tired, a little ragged; even the thought of healing in such a state awed him. "Do not overwork yourself on my behalf," he continued, smile broadening slightly, though he left it at that. It had been a while since he had interacted socially with a being outside of his forest home, and usually he only told people to turn back or to not harm the forest.
It was strange to have companions again, but he felt he enjoyed it. He hoped he didn't offend Anira by denying her request-- He truly felt she would need her strength in the days to come, and didn't feel he merited a usage of it.
The little black dragon flitted between the trees. It was easy to navigate the forest as all he needed to do was travel upstream. The rush of the water under his tiny claws and the wind against his black face urging him forwards towards the targets. He noticed non of the beauty of the trees. Saw no nature or buzz of life. All his senses were drawn to but one.
Find. Blood. Rip. Kill.
The voices were closer now, the sounds of not one person but many conversing back and forth. Some rested by the water and some deeper into the woods. They rustled and bustled against themselves, non too gently allowing the entire world to hear their presence. Be it out of lack of caution or lack of care due to fatigue, the dragon hadn't a clue. He had but one thought.
Blood. Rip. Kill.
The dragon came to land on a tree far above the river bank. The water flowed clean and clear below, the rush of fish below the surface and the rush of life under the soil. But on the land were the pale faces. The ones that warmed the earth and washed clean the dangers of the world. It was sickening. It was putrid how they ruled the land of the living carrying out their good deeds. Ruining all the darkness that was to stretch over the land with their blemishes of life.
Rip. Kill.
The shadow let out a dangerous hiss, watching an elf and a half elf converse back and forth. He did not comprehend the words they spoke, only their faces. He would not need to know their voices for his master to know who they were. All he needed was to bring back their appearances and the dark eye of his master would come to finish the job he had been ordered to start. These people were tired. They were setting up camp to rest. Sometime deep in the night they would return. just when they thought they were safe and peaceful, the demon would return with him. His master would fulfill the job on his own.
Kill.
Find. Blood. Rip. Kill.
The voices were closer now, the sounds of not one person but many conversing back and forth. Some rested by the water and some deeper into the woods. They rustled and bustled against themselves, non too gently allowing the entire world to hear their presence. Be it out of lack of caution or lack of care due to fatigue, the dragon hadn't a clue. He had but one thought.
Blood. Rip. Kill.
The dragon came to land on a tree far above the river bank. The water flowed clean and clear below, the rush of fish below the surface and the rush of life under the soil. But on the land were the pale faces. The ones that warmed the earth and washed clean the dangers of the world. It was sickening. It was putrid how they ruled the land of the living carrying out their good deeds. Ruining all the darkness that was to stretch over the land with their blemishes of life.
Rip. Kill.
The shadow let out a dangerous hiss, watching an elf and a half elf converse back and forth. He did not comprehend the words they spoke, only their faces. He would not need to know their voices for his master to know who they were. All he needed was to bring back their appearances and the dark eye of his master would come to finish the job he had been ordered to start. These people were tired. They were setting up camp to rest. Sometime deep in the night they would return. just when they thought they were safe and peaceful, the demon would return with him. His master would fulfill the job on his own.
Kill.
Anira’s smile broadened slightly, thankful that the male had turned her down. Honestly she wasn’t sure how much healing she’d truly have been able to do before passing out completely, but she’d wanted to offer. She was about to move away and leave the male to his own thoughts, but instead, she sank down to the ground where she was. She sat with her legs crossed, shoulders sagging and her head dipping low. She was silent for a while, fiddling with a few blades of glass before glancing around the camp toward their other companions. The humans seemed to be getting along well enough. She could tell they didn’t like her, but she didn’t fret over it. She wasn’t there to make friends. Although, actually.. she supposed she sort of was. That thought made her shoulders sink more, and she let out a soft sigh. She’d have to be different. She’d have to try harder to be nice, to talk more, even. It just wasn’t who she was. It wasn’t how she was raised and it certainly had never been a part of her daily life after she had graduated from the Academy.
The halfling raised her head to look at Joph once again. She bit her lip and gave him an apologetic smile. “I am sorry for the way our... introductions went earlier. I’m afraid I am not good with people.” She backed up a little until her own back was against a tree as well and she leaned her head back against the rough bark, closing her eyes. Gods, but she was exhausted. She hadn’t had a moment to rest since that fool woman had started trouble back in the Keep the night before. The sun was hanging low on the horizon now, and Anira felt strangely at peace in the elven forest.
She wondered what it was like to live there, to be welcomed by the elves. Among the nature and the beauty... Anira knew that would never be a place where she could belong. The elven blood in her sang to the forest around her, but the human blood... it had a thirst for power that would never be satiated. If she succeeded in killing the King, she would never step forward to be the one to take his place. She wasn’t sure who should sit on the throne or how the country should be run, exactly, but she knew that Renys Aievol needed to be removed.
Anira let out a quiet sigh as she relaxed against the tree, beginning to drift off.
The halfling raised her head to look at Joph once again. She bit her lip and gave him an apologetic smile. “I am sorry for the way our... introductions went earlier. I’m afraid I am not good with people.” She backed up a little until her own back was against a tree as well and she leaned her head back against the rough bark, closing her eyes. Gods, but she was exhausted. She hadn’t had a moment to rest since that fool woman had started trouble back in the Keep the night before. The sun was hanging low on the horizon now, and Anira felt strangely at peace in the elven forest.
She wondered what it was like to live there, to be welcomed by the elves. Among the nature and the beauty... Anira knew that would never be a place where she could belong. The elven blood in her sang to the forest around her, but the human blood... it had a thirst for power that would never be satiated. If she succeeded in killing the King, she would never step forward to be the one to take his place. She wasn’t sure who should sit on the throne or how the country should be run, exactly, but she knew that Renys Aievol needed to be removed.
Anira let out a quiet sigh as she relaxed against the tree, beginning to drift off.
Sithe grinned when his little dragon returned to him, flitting and hissing with anticipation. He reached a hand and grasped the shadow's head, pulling him close and shutting his eyes. He could see them among the memories of the tiny beast. There were no words but he needed none. All he needed were the images.
It was them. The face of the half elf and the full elf. But they were not alone. There were other faces he had never seen before. A woman with fair hair and a man with hair as white as snow. There were at least three others and his brow furrowed. Their numbers were growing. They were forming an army slowly but surely. He scowled. They would form an army. Let them. There would be nothing they could do once they were alone in their dreams.
He focused all his energy, eyes rolling back into his head. He couldn’t help the evil snicker that trembled across the darkness. This was his world now. Of all things that he could control and all the evil he mastered, when people slept was when he was most powerful. Not that he planned to sneak attack or murder them with their eyes shut. No. That would be too easy. He liked the see the fear in their eyes. He liked to watch the lights flickered out underneath blankets of fear.
Suffocate. Everyone suffocate.
He sat cross legged on the rock, the river around him rushing to a silent halt as well as the rest of the world. The colors, the lights, the buzz of life melting away in a cloud of fog. From where he sat, his body turned to stone, a solid frozen mass. The life left his body, eyes blank and black where they watched unseeingly. But from his hunched back rose a black streak, all that was left of Sithe in the living world. Into the air it dissipated, sprinkling the air with dots of terror. The particles spread into all directions, raining black nightmares down over the world.
Everyone suffocate- and he didn’t even need to lift a finger.
It was them. The face of the half elf and the full elf. But they were not alone. There were other faces he had never seen before. A woman with fair hair and a man with hair as white as snow. There were at least three others and his brow furrowed. Their numbers were growing. They were forming an army slowly but surely. He scowled. They would form an army. Let them. There would be nothing they could do once they were alone in their dreams.
He focused all his energy, eyes rolling back into his head. He couldn’t help the evil snicker that trembled across the darkness. This was his world now. Of all things that he could control and all the evil he mastered, when people slept was when he was most powerful. Not that he planned to sneak attack or murder them with their eyes shut. No. That would be too easy. He liked the see the fear in their eyes. He liked to watch the lights flickered out underneath blankets of fear.
Suffocate. Everyone suffocate.
He sat cross legged on the rock, the river around him rushing to a silent halt as well as the rest of the world. The colors, the lights, the buzz of life melting away in a cloud of fog. From where he sat, his body turned to stone, a solid frozen mass. The life left his body, eyes blank and black where they watched unseeingly. But from his hunched back rose a black streak, all that was left of Sithe in the living world. Into the air it dissipated, sprinkling the air with dots of terror. The particles spread into all directions, raining black nightmares down over the world.
Everyone suffocate- and he didn’t even need to lift a finger.
Rowan did in fact cause Pyrian to chuckle. Her humor was forward, to him it was only humor. Meaning he could shrug it off with a laugh. "I don't mind at all, I probably will bite though." He said with a wink before dropping the joke there. "I don't expect to sleep too much." This tone was far more serious. He looked around as he removef his acquired equipment, setting it out in a neat pile away from Rowan and the trees. They weren't in his immediate reach but as been proven, he didn't need weapons to be deadly. His gaze was outwards, towards the slightly oppressive forest. The trip was quite something, he had tried to fix the route but even with his skills the routes the elf picked through the undergrowth was obscure if not utterly invisible. He expected he could get out on his own but there was next to no chance he could achieve it in more than half the time. At first the forest was a intriguing proposition yet as he went further in it became just less intriguing. The elves had given the place no particular feel. It just seemed like the wild. That wasn't a bad thing, Pyrian was most comfortable in the wilderness. Instead part of his dwindling motivation to continue was sated.
"You can sleep." He continued, brining the woman into his counsel. "I'll keep watch. You can forgive me for not trusting anyone yet." He didn't rule Rowan out of that list. Out of all of the four others she could be the most suspicious. The halfelf was too engaged in her quest to be a spy or such. The elves were elves defending their homeland. Rowan, she seemed to have no personal investment here, someone who had just wandered across them and decide to go along. Like himself, there was nothing personal here other than a desire to fight on a bigger scale. So out of all of them she was the one he least expected to stab him in the back. The woman elf he certainly expected to have qualms about either of the humans dying, but some random or plotted event.
"I wouldn't trust the elves to be honest with humans. Kill us in our sleep. Abandon us as intruders in their land." He explained his ultimate reasoning. Leaving it up to her if she wanted to take over the duty at some point.
The sun was already descending in the west and it seemed most of the travellers were about to sleep. Fenris moved to a position, not too far from Rowan, where he could lean against a tree and watch the campers. At first he focused on treating his shoulder with herbs he collected on their hike to further dull the irritable pain, staunch the blood and generally get it to mend further. As the night blinded him to much, even with the elf bitch's fire. Flicking to illuminate their immediate surroundings
"You can sleep." He continued, brining the woman into his counsel. "I'll keep watch. You can forgive me for not trusting anyone yet." He didn't rule Rowan out of that list. Out of all of the four others she could be the most suspicious. The halfelf was too engaged in her quest to be a spy or such. The elves were elves defending their homeland. Rowan, she seemed to have no personal investment here, someone who had just wandered across them and decide to go along. Like himself, there was nothing personal here other than a desire to fight on a bigger scale. So out of all of them she was the one he least expected to stab him in the back. The woman elf he certainly expected to have qualms about either of the humans dying, but some random or plotted event.
"I wouldn't trust the elves to be honest with humans. Kill us in our sleep. Abandon us as intruders in their land." He explained his ultimate reasoning. Leaving it up to her if she wanted to take over the duty at some point.
The sun was already descending in the west and it seemed most of the travellers were about to sleep. Fenris moved to a position, not too far from Rowan, where he could lean against a tree and watch the campers. At first he focused on treating his shoulder with herbs he collected on their hike to further dull the irritable pain, staunch the blood and generally get it to mend further. As the night blinded him to much, even with the elf bitch's fire. Flicking to illuminate their immediate surroundings
Asher let out a sigh. "I think I'll go ahead and locate the village first." He said, and started to run in the direction of the village. It took him a few minutes, maybe half an hour, for him to locate the village. Asher walked into the building near the stables. He went to the man who looked in charge. "Hello." Asher greeted.
"Hello, there." The stranger responded.
"Do you mind if I can use the horses in the stables? I need to buy three." Asher explained.
"Hm... That'll cost you some." Asher reached into his cloak and pulled out a few coins. 2 silver, one bronze. The man examined the coins. "This amount will only leave you with one horse." He said after a while. Well... Crap... Asher thought. I need the rest of the money to make a temporary living, then get a job to get even more money.
The hidden rebel leader sighed. "Well, I guess I can make do with that." He responded, then handed over the pile of coins. The two walked out and went to the stables. "Choose." The man said. Asher pointed to the black horse with white hair. "ah... Matsukaze... Good choice." He commented, then opened the stable to let the horse out. "Here you go, boy. Enjoy riding this brute; he can be a tough one to handle." The man smiled, then went back inside.
Asher was puzzled by the last comment, but he nevertheless got on the horse. Asher knew how to ride horses; it was just getting used to the feel, personality, power, speed, and weight of each horse. However, the horse rider was surprised when he kicked the horse, because Matsukaze blasted from standing still to running through the trees in a second.
"Hello, there." The stranger responded.
"Do you mind if I can use the horses in the stables? I need to buy three." Asher explained.
"Hm... That'll cost you some." Asher reached into his cloak and pulled out a few coins. 2 silver, one bronze. The man examined the coins. "This amount will only leave you with one horse." He said after a while. Well... Crap... Asher thought. I need the rest of the money to make a temporary living, then get a job to get even more money.
The hidden rebel leader sighed. "Well, I guess I can make do with that." He responded, then handed over the pile of coins. The two walked out and went to the stables. "Choose." The man said. Asher pointed to the black horse with white hair. "ah... Matsukaze... Good choice." He commented, then opened the stable to let the horse out. "Here you go, boy. Enjoy riding this brute; he can be a tough one to handle." The man smiled, then went back inside.
Asher was puzzled by the last comment, but he nevertheless got on the horse. Asher knew how to ride horses; it was just getting used to the feel, personality, power, speed, and weight of each horse. However, the horse rider was surprised when he kicked the horse, because Matsukaze blasted from standing still to running through the trees in a second.
Joph watched quietly, not bothering to reply to the half-elf woman as she fell asleep. He did not wish to disturb her; he was also glad he did not offend.
He looked around the camp. Perhaps he should speak to Miorie before he rested-- He felt he could trust her, though he wasn't sure whether or not she trusted him. He felt one of them should stay up to keep watch, though he wasn't sure what she had planned. Joph was a light sleeper, when he did sleep, usually waking to most out-of-the-ordinary noises-- Or lack thereof.
He rose, making his way over to the light-haired elf. Sitting at a respectful distance beside her, he spoke in somewhat hushed tones. "I think one of us should keep watch. I don't think there will be much of a threat from the forest, but I'm not sure if we can trust these humans. Not to mention some of the forest's predators aren't used to the smell of human anymore." He paused for a moment, as if he felt he should say more, but decided to leave it at that, unsure of how to continue.
He looked around the camp. Perhaps he should speak to Miorie before he rested-- He felt he could trust her, though he wasn't sure whether or not she trusted him. He felt one of them should stay up to keep watch, though he wasn't sure what she had planned. Joph was a light sleeper, when he did sleep, usually waking to most out-of-the-ordinary noises-- Or lack thereof.
He rose, making his way over to the light-haired elf. Sitting at a respectful distance beside her, he spoke in somewhat hushed tones. "I think one of us should keep watch. I don't think there will be much of a threat from the forest, but I'm not sure if we can trust these humans. Not to mention some of the forest's predators aren't used to the smell of human anymore." He paused for a moment, as if he felt he should say more, but decided to leave it at that, unsure of how to continue.
Miorie looked up from her journal entry, Joph sat some distance away, but she heard his request clearly enough. Pointy ears were good for something.
He looked better with all the grime and gore off of him, his eyes also seemed a bit clearer. The guilt wouldn't leave him for some time, if ever, the loss of his home was great. Was being in a thriving forest hurting him? Or lifting his spirits? It was hard to judge, mainly because Miorie didn't know him well enough. Was he the type of elf to bear his entire feelings on his sleeve, or wear a mask? Or was Miorie simply digging deeper for something that was not there? She did that often.
"Well aren't we all cleaned up?" Her voice was light, but she winced as soon as she finished the words. Not exactly the best thing to say to an elf who appeared sensitive, but even more...an elf who lost his home. Definitely not a lady elf thing to say, Miorie yelled at herself. She was trying to start the conversation to be light, maybe even begin to apologize for her rude behavior because she knew she had made Joph uncomfortable...Apologies, at times, could be awkward for her. She had no issues when she first met Joph, apologizing sincerely for the loss of the forest, and they even spoke in comfortable tones before the strangers showed up. That's when the beast came out, her mother warned her many a times to keep her blood thirst in check, it had always gotten her in trouble. Her eldest brother always told her that her justice could blind her to the truths around her...Things to work on, things that wouldn't come easily. But at least, letting the strangers say their piece to the elf royals was a start; she would have walked away at some point, vanished into the trees and leave them to their own devices.
A well practiced face, a fake smile, she used it as a facade and only for a short period of time. Put her in any social situation where Miorie wasn't familiar with any of the aspects and she got ugly, reserved, and pushed herself into a corner. A fatal flaw her mother liked to point out- Miorie was no social flower, as all lady elves were expected to be. She was a fake one, she gave herself that; she knew the expectations, the gestures and movements but she only used them when she wanted to...It just wasn't her nature...Miorie was raised with a bow in hand and injustice shoved in her face.
"Apologies," Miorie muttered to Joph. "Not the funniest joke I have said." She was silent again, awkwardly thinking of what to do next. She reached for the remaining sweet potato and tossed it over to him. She hadn't seen him eat the entire day and nobody else was claiming them.
"A watch is a good idea, many thanks." she replied. Earlier in the day, she was worried about being murdered in her sleep, now it seemed like she actually had an ally. It was comforting to know. "You or I for the first watch?"
Reaching for her satchel, she unhooked the straps that held her rolled sleeping blankets, and placed it between them. Joph obviously did not bring anything with him besides the clothes on his back and his weapons. While in Ma'el they would have to get him properly geared.
Ma'el, Miorie thought wistfully, there as much to be done and time was slipping...She had to find Tuyet.
He looked better with all the grime and gore off of him, his eyes also seemed a bit clearer. The guilt wouldn't leave him for some time, if ever, the loss of his home was great. Was being in a thriving forest hurting him? Or lifting his spirits? It was hard to judge, mainly because Miorie didn't know him well enough. Was he the type of elf to bear his entire feelings on his sleeve, or wear a mask? Or was Miorie simply digging deeper for something that was not there? She did that often.
"Well aren't we all cleaned up?" Her voice was light, but she winced as soon as she finished the words. Not exactly the best thing to say to an elf who appeared sensitive, but even more...an elf who lost his home. Definitely not a lady elf thing to say, Miorie yelled at herself. She was trying to start the conversation to be light, maybe even begin to apologize for her rude behavior because she knew she had made Joph uncomfortable...Apologies, at times, could be awkward for her. She had no issues when she first met Joph, apologizing sincerely for the loss of the forest, and they even spoke in comfortable tones before the strangers showed up. That's when the beast came out, her mother warned her many a times to keep her blood thirst in check, it had always gotten her in trouble. Her eldest brother always told her that her justice could blind her to the truths around her...Things to work on, things that wouldn't come easily. But at least, letting the strangers say their piece to the elf royals was a start; she would have walked away at some point, vanished into the trees and leave them to their own devices.
A well practiced face, a fake smile, she used it as a facade and only for a short period of time. Put her in any social situation where Miorie wasn't familiar with any of the aspects and she got ugly, reserved, and pushed herself into a corner. A fatal flaw her mother liked to point out- Miorie was no social flower, as all lady elves were expected to be. She was a fake one, she gave herself that; she knew the expectations, the gestures and movements but she only used them when she wanted to...It just wasn't her nature...Miorie was raised with a bow in hand and injustice shoved in her face.
"Apologies," Miorie muttered to Joph. "Not the funniest joke I have said." She was silent again, awkwardly thinking of what to do next. She reached for the remaining sweet potato and tossed it over to him. She hadn't seen him eat the entire day and nobody else was claiming them.
"A watch is a good idea, many thanks." she replied. Earlier in the day, she was worried about being murdered in her sleep, now it seemed like she actually had an ally. It was comforting to know. "You or I for the first watch?"
Reaching for her satchel, she unhooked the straps that held her rolled sleeping blankets, and placed it between them. Joph obviously did not bring anything with him besides the clothes on his back and his weapons. While in Ma'el they would have to get him properly geared.
Ma'el, Miorie thought wistfully, there as much to be done and time was slipping...She had to find Tuyet.
Joph grinned slightly at her jest. She was an interesting woman, not like the elves he knew back in his days in Ma'el. She piqued his curiosity, though he didn't dare pry. It wasn't his place, nor was he accustomed to befriending anyone after living for years in solitude. "Your apologies aren't required, Frostfall. Being amongst life again helps blot out all the death."
Pausing for a moment to recollect himself, Joph addressed the elven woman's later point. "I will take first watch, if you wish." Joph continued his thought by pointing at a tree with thick branches. "I'll most likely be in there, but I'll stay low."
He paused for a moment, looking around at the vibrant life around him. "If you need anything, let me know, and I'll see if I can aquire it. I think I shall take a stroll later, after I've rested some. Clear my head. Take in the life of the forest."
Joph sighed somewhat wistfully, rising. "Rest well, Frostfall," he whispered, heading for the tree.
Climbing the tree, he sat on a fat branch that overlooked the camp, then began humming a tune. It was an old one. How old, though? He didn't remember. He knew the tune, but not the origin. Oh well. He gently tapped the bark on the tree, creating a steady rhythm as he watched over the camp.
Pausing for a moment to recollect himself, Joph addressed the elven woman's later point. "I will take first watch, if you wish." Joph continued his thought by pointing at a tree with thick branches. "I'll most likely be in there, but I'll stay low."
He paused for a moment, looking around at the vibrant life around him. "If you need anything, let me know, and I'll see if I can aquire it. I think I shall take a stroll later, after I've rested some. Clear my head. Take in the life of the forest."
Joph sighed somewhat wistfully, rising. "Rest well, Frostfall," he whispered, heading for the tree.
Climbing the tree, he sat on a fat branch that overlooked the camp, then began humming a tune. It was an old one. How old, though? He didn't remember. He knew the tune, but not the origin. Oh well. He gently tapped the bark on the tree, creating a steady rhythm as he watched over the camp.
Anira was aware of the male elf getting up and moving away. She heard hushed voices all around her, but she no longer cared what it was they said. She'd fought her way out of the bowels of the Keep and had run to get to where she was now. She was exhausted. She was sure the others would keep watch, distaste and distrust for one another keeping them on guard. A part of both worlds, the young woman was unbothered and felt the safest here that she had felt anywhere in a long time. She was comforted by the sound of the rushing river and the sounds of the creatures of the forest as they came and went, steering clear, for the most part, of the odd smells of the strangers in their forest.
The halfling slumped against the tree, her chin dropping to her chest, and at last, she fell asleep.
The halfling slumped against the tree, her chin dropping to her chest, and at last, she fell asleep.
"Thank you," Miorie said softly as she watched Joph climb into the tree for his for his first part of the watch. He was even kind enough to offer to find her more herbs, well not herbs specifically, but if she needed anything else. She couldn't think of anything, but Joph had given her a reason to trust in others. It was an odd feeling, but one she was sure she would eventually get use to.
How long had she been self reliant? A while now. Nobody ever gave her reason to trust, and when she was about to...terrible things happened. She built walls around herself for a reason, a sad mistrusting reason. Still, her self reliance had brought her this far, she liked to think she was doing something right.
Miorie grabbed her sleeping blankets and rolled them out next to the fire. She knew sleep would not come easy, and it would take some time before she could fall the lull of slumber. Removing her cloak from her shoulder, Miorie folded it loosely so it was wide- she would use it for a pillow. She stretched out, feeling her muscles pull and begin to loosen. Laying on her stomach, she finished her journal entry and felt her first yawn.
Packing away her quill and journal Miorie flipped onto her back and looked up the stars, listening to the crackle of the fire. The sun had set some time before and the moon hung high in the sky, it's soft light bathing the forest. She yawned again and pulled a blanket around her. Frostbyte and Icebyte, her daggers, still rested safely in her boots. The Frostfall could feel the ornate ends crushing into her ankles, not exactly the most comfortable way to sleep. She hadn't shown these weapons to the others in her company, and she wouldn't make a show for them either. Reaching down, she grabbed the daggers by their handles and silently removed them. Nor were they in the most accessible place just in case she was under attack...Miorie moved the twin daggers to her side, within comfortable distance to grab and to throw...just in case.
But Joph still sits in the trees, Miorie reminded herself. Any reasons for her dagger, she thought, would be close to nil. At least there was one other person looking out for her.
With that, Miorie Frostfall succumbed to sleep. Her sights on the stars faded, her lids became heavy, her eyes shut, and she entered sleep's warm embrace.
How long had she been self reliant? A while now. Nobody ever gave her reason to trust, and when she was about to...terrible things happened. She built walls around herself for a reason, a sad mistrusting reason. Still, her self reliance had brought her this far, she liked to think she was doing something right.
Miorie grabbed her sleeping blankets and rolled them out next to the fire. She knew sleep would not come easy, and it would take some time before she could fall the lull of slumber. Removing her cloak from her shoulder, Miorie folded it loosely so it was wide- she would use it for a pillow. She stretched out, feeling her muscles pull and begin to loosen. Laying on her stomach, she finished her journal entry and felt her first yawn.
Packing away her quill and journal Miorie flipped onto her back and looked up the stars, listening to the crackle of the fire. The sun had set some time before and the moon hung high in the sky, it's soft light bathing the forest. She yawned again and pulled a blanket around her. Frostbyte and Icebyte, her daggers, still rested safely in her boots. The Frostfall could feel the ornate ends crushing into her ankles, not exactly the most comfortable way to sleep. She hadn't shown these weapons to the others in her company, and she wouldn't make a show for them either. Reaching down, she grabbed the daggers by their handles and silently removed them. Nor were they in the most accessible place just in case she was under attack...Miorie moved the twin daggers to her side, within comfortable distance to grab and to throw...just in case.
But Joph still sits in the trees, Miorie reminded herself. Any reasons for her dagger, she thought, would be close to nil. At least there was one other person looking out for her.
With that, Miorie Frostfall succumbed to sleep. Her sights on the stars faded, her lids became heavy, her eyes shut, and she entered sleep's warm embrace.
ANIRA
Sithe’s presence wafted around the forest. He could feel her now as if she were right there under his skin. It was the half elf. The prisoner. There was something about her that he had liked when he had met her and that had been really saying something. He never “liked” anyone. But it was the kind of like that made him not so much want her dead than blubbering in her own snot and vomit at his feet. She was strong. Ultimately she may very well have been the strongest out of all of them. But her fears were something greater than just pins and pains.
Slowly his shadows ate away at her unconsciousness, pictures playing in her eyes for only her mind to see. She was walking. The rough soles of her boots digging into a ground much too soft to be grass or stone. But what was the earth under her feet? She looked down at the heel of her boot just before it crashed down on the face of a filthy man. He was dressed in brown and stained rags, bones barely hidden underneath. While she walked his eyes watched her in terror and he cried in pain. But she continued to tread along the path of bodies. She trod upon poor screaming citizens- each begging her for mercy.
“Please, my lady. Master some water, please!”
She had no power to answer his cries. Instead, she dug her heel harder into his back. She walked up steps made out of the squirming limbs of her slaves, cracking a whip down on them until she reached the towering grey stone above where she sat, chained to the chair that overlooked the entire town. But there was barely a town to see. People knelt before her, sobbing and crying for her to help them. Yet the chains that bound her were thick and cold, keeping her from moving. Her tongue was frozen in her head, unable to speak.
She sat on her throne, sipping wine and cracking her whip while she watched the people underneath her cry out for peace.
MIORIE
This woman was new to Sithe and his brow furrowed as he dug into her unconsciousness. He had never met her before, but he had seen her through the eyes of his dragon and he was aware of her. He pressed into the darkness, feeling her lose herself to sleep. He finally pushed past the final barrier of heavy shadows, unlocking the door to all her deepest secrets she thought were tucked deep inside. But nothing was safe in sleep. There were no secrets that could be hidden under fear.
Sithe licked his lips, tasting the sweet pleasure or torment when the first image began to melt into her dreams.
She stood among a crowd of people, lost in the pushing and shoving of peasants and soldiers alike. But these faces were blurred with the faces of strangers and none were too clear in her mind’s eye. But far off in the mass of bodies was a single boy clear as day. Among the darkness and screams, his scream was the most prominent. His face the only face distinguishable among the mob. But he was on his knees, tears of fear screaming down his face.
She could fight all she wanted but the horde of strangers would not part, all pushing back at her and clawing at her robes while she struggled forwards towards the boy. She would not make it in time and it was something she knew deep down in the darkest pits of her stomach while a soldier lifted a blade over the boy’s head.
The crowd parted suddenly, a wave of arms shoving Miorie to the very front of the scene to stand before the soldier and the prisoner set for execution.
“Wait!” The boy shouted in desperation, relief suddenly evident on his face. “Miorie! She will vouch for me!”
“You!” The soldier called, voice sharp and dangerous, threat and blood dripping off every syllable as he spoke. “Do you have any relation to this boy?”
Eyes that mirrored Miorie’s stared desperately up at her, wide with compassion and hope. But Miore had no control of her lips. They spread in an attempt to beg his freedom and instead only a whispered stutter escaped. “I’ve never seen him in my life.”
The boy’s eyes opened in terror and betrayal. He whispered her name on trembling lips. But she stood planted and paralyzed as the blade fell. The boy had no time to scream as his head tumbled from his shoulders, rolling to a halt at the elf’s feet.
And still her own eyes stared up at her from the frozen face of her brother.
Sithe’s presence wafted around the forest. He could feel her now as if she were right there under his skin. It was the half elf. The prisoner. There was something about her that he had liked when he had met her and that had been really saying something. He never “liked” anyone. But it was the kind of like that made him not so much want her dead than blubbering in her own snot and vomit at his feet. She was strong. Ultimately she may very well have been the strongest out of all of them. But her fears were something greater than just pins and pains.
Slowly his shadows ate away at her unconsciousness, pictures playing in her eyes for only her mind to see. She was walking. The rough soles of her boots digging into a ground much too soft to be grass or stone. But what was the earth under her feet? She looked down at the heel of her boot just before it crashed down on the face of a filthy man. He was dressed in brown and stained rags, bones barely hidden underneath. While she walked his eyes watched her in terror and he cried in pain. But she continued to tread along the path of bodies. She trod upon poor screaming citizens- each begging her for mercy.
“Please, my lady. Master some water, please!”
She had no power to answer his cries. Instead, she dug her heel harder into his back. She walked up steps made out of the squirming limbs of her slaves, cracking a whip down on them until she reached the towering grey stone above where she sat, chained to the chair that overlooked the entire town. But there was barely a town to see. People knelt before her, sobbing and crying for her to help them. Yet the chains that bound her were thick and cold, keeping her from moving. Her tongue was frozen in her head, unable to speak.
She sat on her throne, sipping wine and cracking her whip while she watched the people underneath her cry out for peace.
MIORIE
This woman was new to Sithe and his brow furrowed as he dug into her unconsciousness. He had never met her before, but he had seen her through the eyes of his dragon and he was aware of her. He pressed into the darkness, feeling her lose herself to sleep. He finally pushed past the final barrier of heavy shadows, unlocking the door to all her deepest secrets she thought were tucked deep inside. But nothing was safe in sleep. There were no secrets that could be hidden under fear.
Sithe licked his lips, tasting the sweet pleasure or torment when the first image began to melt into her dreams.
She stood among a crowd of people, lost in the pushing and shoving of peasants and soldiers alike. But these faces were blurred with the faces of strangers and none were too clear in her mind’s eye. But far off in the mass of bodies was a single boy clear as day. Among the darkness and screams, his scream was the most prominent. His face the only face distinguishable among the mob. But he was on his knees, tears of fear screaming down his face.
She could fight all she wanted but the horde of strangers would not part, all pushing back at her and clawing at her robes while she struggled forwards towards the boy. She would not make it in time and it was something she knew deep down in the darkest pits of her stomach while a soldier lifted a blade over the boy’s head.
The crowd parted suddenly, a wave of arms shoving Miorie to the very front of the scene to stand before the soldier and the prisoner set for execution.
“Wait!” The boy shouted in desperation, relief suddenly evident on his face. “Miorie! She will vouch for me!”
“You!” The soldier called, voice sharp and dangerous, threat and blood dripping off every syllable as he spoke. “Do you have any relation to this boy?”
Eyes that mirrored Miorie’s stared desperately up at her, wide with compassion and hope. But Miore had no control of her lips. They spread in an attempt to beg his freedom and instead only a whispered stutter escaped. “I’ve never seen him in my life.”
The boy’s eyes opened in terror and betrayal. He whispered her name on trembling lips. But she stood planted and paralyzed as the blade fell. The boy had no time to scream as his head tumbled from his shoulders, rolling to a halt at the elf’s feet.
And still her own eyes stared up at her from the frozen face of her brother.
Miorie's slumber seemed heavier then usual, it weighed like a boulder on her chest. Almost suffocating. And yet, she found that she could not wake. Trapped somewhere between the dark and her mind, being pulled in a direction she did not know. It couldn't be fought, she couldn't struggle, simply went along.
The people began to populate. People she didn't know, couldn't place names of faces. All one gigantic blur. Who were they? What did t hey want? Why were they here? Why was she here? A million questions and no answers, only a haze that settled on her mind. She felt slower, stiff, and yet her body seemed to just float along with the others. No power, no control, what the hell was happening? Her mind seemed to race, but she was so confused. She couldn't think straight, couldn't come up with a clear thought.
And then the screams came out of like a crack of a whip against her back. Hard, stinging, unforgivable. She winced. Who was screaming? Miorie knew the voice- it couldn't be? She looked around, struggling to find him. Tuyet, Tuyet, Tuyet, Tuyet, she chanted to herself. Tuyet, Tuyet, Tuyet, it couldn't be Tuyet; and yet it was.
She gained some control of her body, she pushed the blurred figures, clawing, scratching, spitting like a wild beast. She had to get to Tuyet. She could see him, she would hear him.
Make it stop! Miorie cried out in her mind. Whatever is making him hurt, for the love of the gods, make it stop!
But he kept screaming, his tears rolled out of him like a dam unleashed.
Move! Move, damnit! She yelled out, but her voice did not come. Her arms and legs were like led, seeming like she ran but never got any further. Panic began to fill her, she needed to get to her brother. She was so close, he was so close. A cut of the chains and brave escape and they would both be home and soon. Her long journey would come to an end, and Tuyet's fears would be eased...If she could only get through the ghastly crowd!
...And suddenly, she was. Miorie was shove, propelled, to the front. She could see Tuyet more clearly, relief practically gushing out of her. He was only a few yards away, she could grab for him and they would flee. Home, she would take her younger brother home to be safe for the remainder of his days.
The relief she felt was apparent on Tuyet's face too- it washed over him like a cleansing rain. She wanted to reach out and to embrace him, to tightly weave him in her arms and never let go. How old was he now, 12? Had she really been questing for him non-stop for five years? Tuyet was older, taller, his face worn in with lines a boy his age should have never endeared.
"Miorie will vouch for me!"
Of course I will!
"Do you have any relation to this boy?"
I am his sister! His older sister, release him to me now!
"I've never seen him in my life."
Wait. No. NO. Was that her voice? Did she say such cruel words? NO, NO, HE IS MY BROTHER!
The look of hurt and betrayal in his eyes pierced her heart with anguish no words could ever describe. Miorie's name escaped his lips, the blade fell, and Tuyet's head laid at her feet.
Pain, so much pain.
Miorie cried. For the first time, her voice was her own, and she let out a wail of true suffering. Tuyet, Tuyet was dead and she was responsible.
**
Miorie turned and tossed violently in her sleep, the blankets twisting around her. But she did not notice, she only noticed and felt the utter agony in her dream. The tears poured down her eyes and drenched her cheeks, it was all too much handle. Her emotional stronghold fell. "Tuyet," she whispered in her sleep, voicing her thoughts in her dream. "Gods, what have I done."
The people began to populate. People she didn't know, couldn't place names of faces. All one gigantic blur. Who were they? What did t hey want? Why were they here? Why was she here? A million questions and no answers, only a haze that settled on her mind. She felt slower, stiff, and yet her body seemed to just float along with the others. No power, no control, what the hell was happening? Her mind seemed to race, but she was so confused. She couldn't think straight, couldn't come up with a clear thought.
And then the screams came out of like a crack of a whip against her back. Hard, stinging, unforgivable. She winced. Who was screaming? Miorie knew the voice- it couldn't be? She looked around, struggling to find him. Tuyet, Tuyet, Tuyet, Tuyet, she chanted to herself. Tuyet, Tuyet, Tuyet, it couldn't be Tuyet; and yet it was.
She gained some control of her body, she pushed the blurred figures, clawing, scratching, spitting like a wild beast. She had to get to Tuyet. She could see him, she would hear him.
Make it stop! Miorie cried out in her mind. Whatever is making him hurt, for the love of the gods, make it stop!
But he kept screaming, his tears rolled out of him like a dam unleashed.
Move! Move, damnit! She yelled out, but her voice did not come. Her arms and legs were like led, seeming like she ran but never got any further. Panic began to fill her, she needed to get to her brother. She was so close, he was so close. A cut of the chains and brave escape and they would both be home and soon. Her long journey would come to an end, and Tuyet's fears would be eased...If she could only get through the ghastly crowd!
...And suddenly, she was. Miorie was shove, propelled, to the front. She could see Tuyet more clearly, relief practically gushing out of her. He was only a few yards away, she could grab for him and they would flee. Home, she would take her younger brother home to be safe for the remainder of his days.
The relief she felt was apparent on Tuyet's face too- it washed over him like a cleansing rain. She wanted to reach out and to embrace him, to tightly weave him in her arms and never let go. How old was he now, 12? Had she really been questing for him non-stop for five years? Tuyet was older, taller, his face worn in with lines a boy his age should have never endeared.
"Miorie will vouch for me!"
Of course I will!
"Do you have any relation to this boy?"
I am his sister! His older sister, release him to me now!
"I've never seen him in my life."
Wait. No. NO. Was that her voice? Did she say such cruel words? NO, NO, HE IS MY BROTHER!
The look of hurt and betrayal in his eyes pierced her heart with anguish no words could ever describe. Miorie's name escaped his lips, the blade fell, and Tuyet's head laid at her feet.
Pain, so much pain.
Miorie cried. For the first time, her voice was her own, and she let out a wail of true suffering. Tuyet, Tuyet was dead and she was responsible.
**
Miorie turned and tossed violently in her sleep, the blankets twisting around her. But she did not notice, she only noticed and felt the utter agony in her dream. The tears poured down her eyes and drenched her cheeks, it was all too much handle. Her emotional stronghold fell. "Tuyet," she whispered in her sleep, voicing her thoughts in her dream. "Gods, what have I done."
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View All » Add Character » 14 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
Sirus Draigo
"Sleep this night away. This wretched knight walks among you."
Miorie Frostfall
"Go on, say I'm cute one more time...And I'll cut you in half."
Nicholas Partij
"For years I have wandered the desert plains. My only companions are the ever-burning sun, the ever-howling winds, and the ever-whispering spirits."
Sithe Hart
"Open your eyes and tell me what you see. Do you see death?"
Joh'fellnen (Joph)
Joph, elven warrior. Loves nature, hates people who ruin it. Usually in high spirits.
Asher Evans
"Wanna know why I am known as the 'Voice of Treason'? Find out after I haul your butt out of this palace."
Pyrian Fenris
Wolves hunt in packs, bringing down foes far stronger an individual. Yet the wolf that hunts alone must achieve the same by his own might or perish in the truth that he is at fault.
Renys Aievol
"They would brand me a tyrant and yet they would rule no better in my place. I say let them try and take my throne; I will fight them until my dying breath."
Anira Eden
One day I will be the cause of His death.
Trending
Asher Evans
"Wanna know why I am known as the 'Voice of Treason'? Find out after I haul your butt out of this palace."
Sithe Hart
"Open your eyes and tell me what you see. Do you see death?"
Sirus Draigo
"Sleep this night away. This wretched knight walks among you."
Renys Aievol
"They would brand me a tyrant and yet they would rule no better in my place. I say let them try and take my throne; I will fight them until my dying breath."
Miorie Frostfall
"Go on, say I'm cute one more time...And I'll cut you in half."
Pyrian Fenris
Wolves hunt in packs, bringing down foes far stronger an individual. Yet the wolf that hunts alone must achieve the same by his own might or perish in the truth that he is at fault.
Anira Eden
One day I will be the cause of His death.
Nicholas Partij
"For years I have wandered the desert plains. My only companions are the ever-burning sun, the ever-howling winds, and the ever-whispering spirits."
Joh'fellnen (Joph)
Joph, elven warrior. Loves nature, hates people who ruin it. Usually in high spirits.
Most Followed
Pyrian Fenris
Wolves hunt in packs, bringing down foes far stronger an individual. Yet the wolf that hunts alone must achieve the same by his own might or perish in the truth that he is at fault.
Asher Evans
"Wanna know why I am known as the 'Voice of Treason'? Find out after I haul your butt out of this palace."
Anira Eden
One day I will be the cause of His death.
Nicholas Partij
"For years I have wandered the desert plains. My only companions are the ever-burning sun, the ever-howling winds, and the ever-whispering spirits."
Sithe Hart
"Open your eyes and tell me what you see. Do you see death?"
Miorie Frostfall
"Go on, say I'm cute one more time...And I'll cut you in half."
Joh'fellnen (Joph)
Joph, elven warrior. Loves nature, hates people who ruin it. Usually in high spirits.
Renys Aievol
"They would brand me a tyrant and yet they would rule no better in my place. I say let them try and take my throne; I will fight them until my dying breath."
Sirus Draigo
"Sleep this night away. This wretched knight walks among you."
Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » Perhaedian Empire: Out of Character
Discussions
Most recent OOC posts in Perhaedian Empire
Re: Perhaedian Empire
That's unfortunate. :\
Oh, awesome! Archery always seemed like a fun thing to get into. How is it?
Oh, awesome! Archery always seemed like a fun thing to get into. How is it?
Re: Perhaedian Empire
Naw, I think we're officially done.
On a fun side note: I picked up archery since my last post! I shoot a recurve, and I named him Frost!! :)
On a fun side note: I picked up archery since my last post! I shoot a recurve, and I named him Frost!! :)
Re: Perhaedian Empire
Don't worry templar, I am currently going through a bad bout of depression, panic attacks etc. So I can empathise to some extent. Hope things improve for you :)
Re: Perhaedian Empire
I'm sorry, I had real life emotional breakdowns and drama etc. Sort of distracting me from writing unfortunately.
Re: Perhaedian Empire
I'm still here, I haven't posted as no one else seemed to be posting. But I check this rp every day. Though it does look like its dead.
Re: Perhaedian Empire
It was a pretty good last-post, but probably needed an explosion or two to be complete. :P
Re: Perhaedian Empire
I think we're the only ones left Em, everyone else jumped ship.
Shit, if I knew Miorie's post would have been the last one I would have made it epic.
Shit, if I knew Miorie's post would have been the last one I would have made it epic.
Re: Perhaedian Empire
I'll get a post up in the morning. Anira will get rid of Kayo and we'll move on.
Re: Perhaedian Empire
I'm waiting for everyone else to post 'cause Joph doesn't really have much to say or do at this moment in time.
Re: Perhaedian Empire
Seems like we are moving at a snails pace, youre best Rping to catch up or get with Pyros's character. At this rate we might finally get to Ma'el at the end of Spring.
Re: Perhaedian Empire
Hey hey hey all. I know I've been a bit absent from the rp but with midterms out of the way I am able to focus more here. And yes, a new guy running about who I have quite a few plans for. Oh what a fun little web I'll weave for him. I planned for him to be in one of the king's patrols, scouting out a recent forest fire and generally being a loyal little soldier. Anyone want to spitball a few ideas for Sirus let me know.
Re: Perhaedian Empire
Hey guys, just letting you know I am still here but I have been unwell so sorry for not posting. Rowan is following Anira because she hopes (a small hope) that she will be able to get revenge on the King and his men. Though she won't necessarily admit to that openly lol
Re: Perhaedian Empire
For the record, TOS states that we can't force reactions onto other characters.
Basically it formulates to:
OKAY: Miorie sent a death glare to Joph. Her glare meant to send shivers down his spine.
NOT: Miorie sent a death glare to Joph, her glare sent direct shiver down his spine.
It's quite the fine line, and very hard to be mindful of. However, I don't see what the big deal was, it's wasnt a full blown God-mod post (picked her up, slammed her down, she could feel all her ribs breaking, and then she DIED) If I were to go through all our posts, I'm sure I could find that ALL of us have put "forced" reactions/feels onto other characters. To say the least, Kayo's character post and quite a few of them. It's like the kettle calling the pot black. But I think it's a loss we can very easily recover from.
Moving on,I say tie off all the loose ends, with no chances of the character coming back. Cut her loose, and if nobody in the group wants to kill her, I'll have a patrol do it.
From what gathered there some serious bad blood between Kayo's character and Pyrian and Anira. If one you guys wanna finish the job, that would make some sense. Other wise, the patrols will have at it and I can type it up. Unless someone would like to do something different?
Huzzah on the new character!!! What does Incarnate have planned for him? We can totally set him up with Pyro's character. How exciting!
Basically it formulates to:
OKAY: Miorie sent a death glare to Joph. Her glare meant to send shivers down his spine.
NOT: Miorie sent a death glare to Joph, her glare sent direct shiver down his spine.
It's quite the fine line, and very hard to be mindful of. However, I don't see what the big deal was, it's wasnt a full blown God-mod post (picked her up, slammed her down, she could feel all her ribs breaking, and then she DIED) If I were to go through all our posts, I'm sure I could find that ALL of us have put "forced" reactions/feels onto other characters. To say the least, Kayo's character post and quite a few of them. It's like the kettle calling the pot black. But I think it's a loss we can very easily recover from.
Moving on,I say tie off all the loose ends, with no chances of the character coming back. Cut her loose, and if nobody in the group wants to kill her, I'll have a patrol do it.
From what gathered there some serious bad blood between Kayo's character and Pyrian and Anira. If one you guys wanna finish the job, that would make some sense. Other wise, the patrols will have at it and I can type it up. Unless someone would like to do something different?
Huzzah on the new character!!! What does Incarnate have planned for him? We can totally set him up with Pyro's character. How exciting!
Re: Perhaedian Empire
Well... was that god modding? Really? Hm. I didn't think so... Sorry, but I mean, Anira wasn't about to just let her go galavanting off through the forest willy nilly. That was my character being who she is.
Anyway. Um how about if... Perhaps Miorie or Joph signal the nearest patrol and have them lead her out of the forest? She can't just be left behind in the middle of the forest. Then.. well, Sithe or whoever is welcome to have at her, if you like. That, or perhaps I can write her up as breaking out of Anira's grasp and making a run for it, and someone shoots her with an arrow or something. Ideas?
If you would like to discuss how they'd interact, that's great!
As far as Anira is concerned, she has welcomed the others into the group, but that's not to say she trusts them. She is starting to warm up a little bit to the idea of being surrounded by people and the fact that, as the leader, she is expected to have some kind of rapport with them. She isn't likely to just start up a cheery conversation with anyone, but if anyone was curious about her, she might answer some questions. Otherwise, she'll probably stick to herself, realizing that the others seem to have made friends among one another.
Hope that helps. Sorry I've been MIA lately. You guys are welcome to get one Skype (if you have it) and hollar at me if I haven't been around. I've been forgetful with school and stuff, but I'm pretty much always logged in on Skype.
Edit: Also, look out. We've got a new guy on the loose. http://www.roleplaygateway.com/roleplay/perhaedian-empire/characters/sirus-draigo
Anyway. Um how about if... Perhaps Miorie or Joph signal the nearest patrol and have them lead her out of the forest? She can't just be left behind in the middle of the forest. Then.. well, Sithe or whoever is welcome to have at her, if you like. That, or perhaps I can write her up as breaking out of Anira's grasp and making a run for it, and someone shoots her with an arrow or something. Ideas?
If you would like to discuss how they'd interact, that's great!
As far as Anira is concerned, she has welcomed the others into the group, but that's not to say she trusts them. She is starting to warm up a little bit to the idea of being surrounded by people and the fact that, as the leader, she is expected to have some kind of rapport with them. She isn't likely to just start up a cheery conversation with anyone, but if anyone was curious about her, she might answer some questions. Otherwise, she'll probably stick to herself, realizing that the others seem to have made friends among one another.
Hope that helps. Sorry I've been MIA lately. You guys are welcome to get one Skype (if you have it) and hollar at me if I haven't been around. I've been forgetful with school and stuff, but I'm pretty much always logged in on Skype.
Edit: Also, look out. We've got a new guy on the loose. http://www.roleplaygateway.com/roleplay/perhaedian-empire/characters/sirus-draigo
Re: Perhaedian Empire
I suppose so, not much else we can do.Other than dislike the character enough to leave her behind and never see her again.