339 replies to this topic

[Vortigern]

Arsencia has existed as it does today for millennia. What came before remains unknown, but a few ancient structures have been unearthed by the dwarves. Humans have always been the dominant species of Arsencia, outnumbering their nearest rivals, the Vyre, more than fifty to one, and nearly ten times that over the elves and the Furya. Human kings have often tried to impose their will on the other races of Arsencia, and always failed, with the one notable exception of Cervantes the Great, the only king to bind the Minotaurs to service, necessary as it was to aid in defeating the Furya. However, this mutual agreement could not really be seen as conquest, as the Minotaurs returned to their home on the plains as soon as the final battle was won.

Sixty years have passed since the last great quest. In that time the Minotaurs have bloomed, spreading far and wide across the plains, significantly increasing their numbers. The Vyre have been spotted emerging from their island realm, and Furya have been found travelling deep into forbidden territory. In the human kingdom of Envael, the Palatinate, the zealous warriors of the Light, have grown in influence, garnering respect and fear wherever they roam. The Whitecloaks, as they are generally known, have come to abuse their power, and some have been accused of using black magic to further their aims. It is suspected that their leader, the Lord Winter Vayu, is a covert black mage, directing the Paladins as he wishes. Of course, many Paladins stay true to their honourable course, ridding the world of evil.

Only twelve years ago, a new kingdom was created: Anvar, the new promised land. It is whispered in corners that the legendary Umbar, the enemies of the Light, servants of evil, rule there, the power behind the throne, creating a new land so that they might feast on the pain and blood when they destroy it. Of course, this does not keep many from going. Life in Envael is hard, and Anvar promises a new lease of life, fresh land, untroubled pasture for those with the heart to seize it. It seems inevitable that Anvar and Envael will not see eye to eye, but so far relations have been nothing if not cordial. Construction of a fortress in Anvar to rival the indomitable strength of the Maughold began as soon as there were men to build it. When Anharad, as it has been christened, is complete, the two kingdoms will be truly equal. The king of Anvar has sent emissaries to each of the races of Arsencia, offering them free passage and land on which to build and make new homes in his kingdom, a policy which earned him respect from scholars but a deep mistrust from the upper echelons of Envael, suspecting him of building a multicultural army to eventually invade Envael. However, few non-humans seemed to take up the offer.

It was on the border of the two kingdoms, Anvar to the north, Envael to the south-west, that Theria Moriarty now walked. The long road had carried her from the farthest reaches of Minotaur land all the way back to human civilisation, and she was beginning to feel the same old stirrings. She looked at the skyline, noting that the sun was nearing the horizon. The next inn, she thought to herself, stopping just short of saying it aloud. When alone, that was all very well, but she had to get back into the practice of not talking to herself around others. That was a sure way to be refused admittance to a tavern. Or a town, for that matter.

The moment she thought of the word 'town', she caught sight of a fork in the road, hosting a sturdy and well-made signpost.

"Maughold, to the right, 250ish miles. How delightfully inaccurate," she mused, turning to the other branch. "Kavali, 2 miles. Never heard of it, but it had better have somewhere for me to sleep." She strode off down the left path, quarterstaff banging away on the dry ground. It was not long before she found she could make out the low wooden palisade surrounding the town, but the haze of smoke from the chimneys had given it away long since. Theria's stomach began to rumble; she had not eaten in nearly three days, but that was the beauty of her elven nature. Food was a luxury, unnecessary if she felt she could do without it.

Walking through the gate, Theria nodded companionably to the solitary gatekeeper, who replied with a friendly "My lady". She found the inn almost instantly, the single largest building in the town. A good place to meet people and earn a meal, she thought. And she was not wrong. The interior of the inn was well-lit, clean and spacious, quite possibly the most friendly place she had been since leaving the home of the Minotaurs.

"What can I get you, my lady?" asked the landlord, leaning across the counter.

"Something to eat, please," replied Theria, lightly. The landlord nodded and bumbled out to the kitchen. Theria settled herself down in the corner, and looked around. She was surprised to notice a dwarf, of all things. But that would keep to another time. Right now she was far more concerned with herself, and her stomach in particular.

((That dwarf was you, Matias. Everyone else, feel free to join us under whatever pretext you can think of. I hope you liked the history. ))

[some_weirdGuy]

((Zhars conversations may be confusing, but its suppose to be like that, he's insane, and he talks to himself with split personalities. edit:i have used different fonts to make it easier to tell the difference. now to just remember what fonts match what personality... i dont know if i can be bothered to keep it up, probably not, but oh well))

"no... its happening.. *ugh*... again" Zhar grasped his head, crumpling forward to his knees, agony rippled through his body as he went through another 'transition', his skin began to decay further, already he had gone to long, but he had been traveling alone, and had not run into any victims on his way, if he did not make a tribute soon, then he would surely perish

"Zhar must find a victim soon, lest Zhar die...."
"...No I Will Not Die!"
"...you cant die fool! the demon made sure of that!"
"...yesss you canss, if you dont act quicklyssss" he stumbled forward, the searing pain reverting back to a duller agony, his mind clearing slightly
"be quite, i cant think with your incessant rambling!"
"...now nows, thatss not very nicesss" he looked up, inhaling deeply through his nose. he cocked his head, listening intently.

A voice could be heard, indistinct but identifiably male, laughter followed, this time a woman.
"yes, they will do nicely" he took another deep breath, steadying himself, before stepping out onto the trail.
"Greetings, friends..."

-----
He stood, raising the blood covered kriss to his noise, smelling it, before giving it a little lick. He then wiped in on the dead mans tunic, before sheathing it. his skin was already healing, the gangrene beginning on the tips of his fingers gone, the peeling skin moving back into place along his shoulder and back. He raised his hood and cloak, secreting away the scabbard in the folds of his clothing.

"are you happy now? they are dead"
"...no... i can never be happy, the demon made sure of that!"
"...you make me sick, you're a monster"
"...Shut up!" silence, he shook his head, taking another deep breath before walking on, the bodies of the man and woman forgotten...

After a little while he came at last to Kavali, he would make a stop off here, before he kept moving onwards.

Edited by some_wierdGuy, 12 November 2008 - 09:35 AM.

[Rafv Nin IV]

That elf, just prancing in and ordering, while I've been waiting patiently; but nobody cares, thought Shava, I hate them all. And the bartender just waltzed away, giving that elf preference.

Shava was angry. Of course, Shava was always angry, being a gnome, and a gnome with worse luck than the rest. But she forced herself to calm down, and instead filled herself with sadness and depression. Shava reached out a tendril of emotion to an employee of the inn, and impressed him with her emotional state. The man collapsed onto the counter, and would have cried, had he not noticed Shava below him. This was, obviously, her aim--to require the bartender to look down for once. She released him, and he became his usual extrovertive self, while Shava let her own sorrow drift into lesser annoyance.

"Food, barman!" she screamed, "I've been waiting long enough!" Shava plunked some coins on the counter and stalked off lie down on a chair in an empty corner of the room.

[Fire Ze Missiles!]

Illyriel ate well but it had been several weeks since last he had a had a drink. A real drink that is, Elven nectar ideally or the infinitely lesser if still pleasant human creation of wine. Such was the reasoning behind him entering the small town on the plains, drawn by the dream of alcohol.
"Excuse me," he inquired of the bored-looking guard as he passed, "What's the name of this town?"
"Kavali," said the man proudly, "Finest ale in all the land."
Illyriel smiled politely and excused himself, suppressing a grimace at the mention of that vile liquid. No nectar then.
"Two elves in one day," muttered the guard as he was left behind, "That's a turn-up for the books."
Walking on towards the smoke rising invitingly from the chimney of a large building, presumably the inn, Illyriel extricated a small slab of cheese from his rat-pack and nibbled on it thoughtfully. Another elf in town was either a huge coincidence or it meant that something was going on which he didn't know about. After a bit of thought, he settled on the former explanation to save himself the iniquity of not knowing about something.
Stowing his cheese, he wandered into the building and cast his eyes around the interior. Not bad, for a human construction, but hardly filled with light either. Illyriel nodded to himself, his suspicions of the nectar-free environment confirmed.
"I don't suppose you have any wine, perchance?" he asked the barman hopefully. A foolish request, it turned out. Reluctantly, he accepted a tankard of ale and turned around to find a table at which to sit and quietly contemplate the world and its problems whilst getting gradually more and more drunk. That was when he saw her. The other elf sat at a table in the centre of the room, oblivious to those around her. There was no way it was anyone else - no human woman could maintain such a figure and height, even on the diets they considered healthy.
Sauntering over, he seated himself opposite the mystery woman.
"So, I heard there was another elf in town," he began. She glanced up at him, eyebrow raised for a sardonic reply, and Illyriel's eyes widened in surprise.
"Theria?"

[Copaman]

Tom had been on the move for the last two days. He passed a small trade post - whether he wanted to or not he managed to catch part of the two men's conversation:

"Have you heard? They're searching for the ghost of Tom Joad over in Vardus."
"Really? They're never gonna find anything. Anybody who goes searching for the ghost of Tom Joad never finds anything. You don't find Tom's ghost, he finds you."
"True, but still. When they find him..."
"The day'll never come."

He thought about paying them a visit. It'd make their day. But it'd really just be a waste of his time. Moving on, he made it to a fork in the road... Kavali, or Ardent. He'd stayed in Ardent last year, awful liquor and even worse women. Not to mention the accomodations.

"Kavali it is, then."

When he made it to town, he picked the first inn he could. The smells were unmistakable - two elves, a gnome, and a few humans. Each race has its own unique smell, and 98% of all members of that race share that smell. He learned that on the run. Stale ale and some halfway decent food were also flirting with his nose. As he opened the door, he spied himself a seat at the bar and put his hood up. He'd much rather not have people notice him. Then again, 6 feet tall and muscular with a collection of weapons and swirling skin patterns...

"Oh, shit. I forgot."

He began to meld his form into that of a human, but it might have been too late. Someone could've seen it. Better not look around to make sure - it'd be suspicious. Adjusting his voice, he managed to say "Barkeep. I'll take two pints and whatever your house special is. I'm dying over here, haven't had a bite in two days."

((Someone take notice of my swirly skin. Otherwise I'm just some guy ))

[Vortigern]

"Illyriel." Theria was momentarily lost for words. The chances of this had to be something in the region of one in a million. "How nice to see you."

"You too. How long has it been?" wondered the male elf aloud, settling himself down more comfortably.

"About a hundred and twenty years. Quite a while, by most people's standards." Theria looked Illyriel over. He had not changed an iota in over a century: the same arrogant swagger and handsome smile, the same dark green travel-stained cloak, the same swords. On reflection, the cloak was probably a replacement, but the spirit was the same. "About as long as that adorable little gnome must have been waiting, judging by how angry she seems," added Theria with a gentle half-smirk. She directed her old acquaintance's gaze to the stool where the furious little creature had just managed to grab the barman's attention.

"She'll be alright. What about you? Where have you been for the past hundred years? Last I heard you were off with the Minotaurs."

"I've been back and forth between the plains and the southern peninsula a lot," she replied. "The Minotaurs are unsettled, you know." She leaned in close, conspiratorially. "Between you and me, young man, something big is in the offing. Minotaurs live very close to the land, and they tend to have a sixth sense about these things." Illyriel raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"Are we not getting ahead of ourselves? I was expecting a few minutes of pleasantries first." Theria snorted.

"Sorry to disappoint. But it strikes me that there's a reason you and I have both arrived here at the same time. The gods do like to mess around with mortal lives."

"We're not mortal," Illyriel pointed out. Theria merely shrugged. It was a moot point.

"We're closer to mortal than the gods. That's all that counts, really. Stay with me for a few days, travel with me to the Maughold and we'll see what's going on." Illyriel shuddered at the name. "I know, it makes my stomach turn to think of that monstrous citadel, but I have friends there. I need to talk to them and find out if my suspicions are correct. Come with me." Illyriel grinned and shrugged.

"Nothing better to do."

((FZM, I hope you don't mind, I needed a conversation. SWG, I quite like the technique with the fonts, but it'd probably be easier to just do bold, italic, normal, whatever in future. How many personalities is this guy supposed to have? Also, bring him into the bar sometime about now. Grand entrances are approved of. Do something that'll catch our attention. ))

[Mathijs]

Ruddy hell, I shud'nt 'ave gotten that last pint... Bazric thought to himself as he realised he was about to fall off his stool. He grabbed the tableside and tried to balance himself out, but it was of no more use.

''Curses!'' Bazric yelled as he fell towards the stone floor.

A loud smack was heard as the dwarf hit the floor. Eyes closed, Bazric was trying to understand what had just happened.

''Ye gods...'' he mumbled. ''Dun'... dun' mind me folks, 'spose I just need a good night's rest or summat...''

As Bazric tried to get up in order to try and sit down once more, a strange feeling took hold of him.

What in heaven's name is that? he thought to himself as he crawled back on his chair. Bazric detected a strange presence drawing closer, something bad, something... demonic. He shook his head, strangely sober all of a sudden. He decided he would keep his mouth shut untill the presence got alarmlingly close. At the other end of the tavern, he saw two elves staring at him.

[Rafv Nin IV]

Shava's moody contemplations were shattered by the collapse of the nearest occupant--a dwarf thrashed on the ground, trying unsuccesfully to remount his stool. Dwarves, unlike most races, did not inspire rage in Shava, as they too were quite vertically challenged. The dwarves merely evoked annoyance and mistrust in Shava for being taller than she. Still, she felt she might as well deal with the creature to spare the boredom and humiliation of eating alone. Shava swung her legs over the side of her chair and braced herself for impact with the ground. She rolled away, got to her feet and walked to the counter where the dwarf had managed to sit on his stool again. It took two climbs to hoist her body onto the high stool: first onto the crossbar, and then onto the seat itself. Shava stood up on the surface so she would be at equal height with the dwarf, and leaned on the counter, facing the dwarf.

"Your head's alright?" Shava squeaked.

[Mathijs]

A high-pitched, squeeky voice snapped Bazric out of his contemplation of this strange presence, and he looked to his side. Startled at first by the ugly creature that had come to greet him, he quickly regained his manners and adjusted his wide eyes.

''Oh aye, 'tis fine. Nothin' like a good ol' smack to shake things up a bit,'' Bazric replied. His intoxication had faded away.

The dwarf grumbled and stared at his knees briefly.

''Say lass, I dun' spose ye know of any... disturbances around 'ere? Any odd happenings? Fer instance, do ye know 'bout them elfish-looking creatures right over there?'' Bazric whispered as he looked the little gnome in the eyes. ''I'm a paladin y'see, and I've been sensin' some rather... well, some rather evil things 'round here. You 'n me bein', well, ye know, of the smaller folk, I thought I'd let ye know. Gotta look out for one another, after all.'' Right after saying these words, Bazric felt regret. Once again he had been running his mouth, and the little gnome's expression after hearing all this unsettled him.

He looked to his side and noticed two prying eyes, coming from a hooded fellow.

Edited by Matias, 13 November 2008 - 12:12 AM.

[some_weirdGuy]

SWG, I quite like the technique with the fonts, but it'd probably be easier to just do bold, italic, normal, whatever in future. How many personalities is this guy supposed to have? Also, bring him into the bar sometime about now. Grand entrances are approved of. Do something that'll catch our attention. tongue.gif))

yeah, its a bit messy looking, and yeah, orginally i was gona do bold, italic etc. then i wanted to do different colours, then i went with the fonts... but like i said, cant really be bothered to keep that up...
you'll just have to pick up on the mannerisms of his different personalities.

as to the number... well you just saw i think about 7 i dont know how many will emerge in the end though (probably he will have a few 'dominant' ones and other recessive personalities that only show up rarely...)

and Matias, whose the hooded fellow? cause its not me! i have more dramatic ideas....

Attention grabbing entrance in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...
--------------------------

The air in the bar suddenly changed, from rough merriment and drunkenness, to a subtly darker undertone. most did not notice this change, until the few window shutters of the bar snapped shut, the hearth's fire guttered.

Dark now, everyone became silent. Tension built, mixed with fear and confusion.
The door flew open, and a dark shadow flowed in fast, like a dark liquid, or mist. It moved to the center in front of the bar, before swirling and taking shape, it receded and formed into the shape of Zhar.
"I do so love a grand entrance..." he whispered to himself, looking down at the ground.
He snapped his head up in a quick motion, turning to face the group of shocked spectators. Some cowered, others who were drunk thought they must be hallucinating, and others again stood ridged, hands hovering over whatever weapon they had at hand... he specifically noted the dwarf, and a couple of elves.

With his eyes he saw all for what they really were, reading them like a book. The aura behind the dwarf signaled that he was a paladin, and Zhar could see in his eyes that he knew of the evil within him.
He skimmed the room, most did not stick out, just average people living average lives. Some were of momentary, interest, he noticed a man who was maintaining a falsehood, he was not really human.

He smiled wickedly as his eyes met up with a scarred gnome, and he allowed himself to chuckle at her misfortune, he also read that she possessed some ability, interesting.

And of coarse there was the two elves....
He pointed a finger at the barkeeper, motioning him forward. as if bound by chains he hovered forward, arms stuck at his side and only his neck and head showing signs of resistance.
"I seek the Lord Winter Vayu..." he said, looking sideways at the man.
"... You Will Tell Me..!!" he bagan with a loud angry voice, but stopping short, as if regaining his composure. He let out a little cough, and continued in a smoother, quiter voice "that is to say,i would appreciate, any assistance you could offer in finding him."
"...it sseemss that he iss a powerful man indeed, and knowledgeable in the artsss of magic, for he holdsss a great ward spell over himsself, meaning that i cannot locate hiss persson by magical meansss"

Zhar looked around the room again, reading the expressions on peoples faces. he chuckled again as his gaze fell on the gnome.
"Now now, dont do anything foolish" he said, noting how a few of the guests seems to be closing in on him...
((Then suddenly, someone does something!))

Edited by some_wierdGuy, 13 November 2008 - 07:11 AM.

[Mathijs]

OOC: The hooded fellow is Tom.

Bazric had retrieved his claymore Justicar from the wardrobes, and its white runes lit up.

''We are surrounded by evil!'' the stout dwarf yelled as he took a stance of combat. ''To arms!''

Bazric closed his eyes for a brief second and reopened them as a white glow surrounded him, readying his blade. A few whispers escaped his mouth before his bulky plate armour became etched with the same white runes as his blade held. ''Come 'ere ye wee gnome, stand behind me!''

''I am Bazric Swiftrune, Judge of the Damned! Fist of Retribution! Bringer of Light! Ye have exactly five seconds to tell me what you are, before I reduce you to ashes, abomination!''

Edited by Matias, 13 November 2008 - 08:43 AM.

[some_weirdGuy]

"Ye have five seconds to tell me what you are, before I reduce you to ashes, abomination'' said Zhar in a mocking little voice
"...you are an abomination..." he said to himself, looking away from the dwarf
"...Shut up i tell you!..." he snarled, looking back
"...i am Zhar, plain and simple! though i doubt you will know of me...."
"...Zhar was once human, but Zhar is not any more..."
"...the demon made sure of that..." he straightened then, closing his eyes, swallowing, then reopening them and taking a deep breath, twisting his head around as if working a kink out of his neck.
"...Yes, i am Zhar, the magi. And as i told you i am after Winter Vayu, my... Master" as he said the word he scrunched up his face, using it as if it were a curse" wants the man, and i must obey his will. I do not have to kill you, but i will... if none of you have the information that i need then i have no use for you..." he let out an almost manical laugh, but cut it off quickly, regaining focus.
He stared at the paladin, drawing his demon blade, the kriss, and placing it between his teeth. He then stood in a braced position, ready for the dwarf or any others to make the first move...

Edited by some_wierdGuy, 13 November 2008 - 09:14 AM.

[Mathijs]

''Winter Vayu?'' Bazric muttered without changing his stance. He didn't like that name, or the man behind it. Highlord Winter Vayu, leader of the human paladins of Arcensia, was the reason why Maughold's paladins looked down upon their dwarven cousins with paranoïa and even racism. To hear that this abyssmal being was a servant of Vayu, Bazric's suspicion only grew more profound.

''What business does an abomination like you have with Highlord Vayu?'' Bazric sneered, deciding to keep his thoughts to himself. ''Surely, something as inherently dark as you shouldn't have the sheer courage to stand before such an embodiment of the light?''

The dwarf shook his head. ''And now, ye speak of killing me? Hah! Bring it, vile creature of darkness! Bring yer pretty face to my blade!''

Letting out a fierce yell, Bazric lept forward. A flash of light erupted from his blade as he swung it towards this demon.

OOC: Let's not continue this ''battle'' before others have posted their input.

Edited by Matias, 13 November 2008 - 10:04 AM.

[Copaman]

OOC: Let's just not continue this battle.

Before the conflict could grow further, Tom made his move. He swung his sword out at a speed that was, frankly, inhuman - the motion caused his hood and cloak to fall back, and his lapse of concentration dropped him out of his human form-meld.

A clang reverberated throughout the room as metal struck metal; Tom had stopped the dwarf from destroying the... whatever it was.

Slowly raising his blade to be level with the throat of the vile fiend, he spoke for the first time since walking in. "Both of you. Enough. You'd like to fight, take it outside. Otherwise, I just came here to enjoy some food, and quite honestly I'd prefer not to have someone's guts spilled into my sandwich. You," he said, nodding at the fiend, "You... I can't help you with that one. As far as I'm concerned, you're on your own with finding this Vayu person. Again, why even bother interrupting my sandwich? What, honestly, are the odds that anyone in here could tell you where he is? And if you're not going to order anything, I suggest you leave... you're stinkin the place up."

Keeping his sword level, and an ear open, he turned to the dwarf.

"I understand you paladin type enjoy slaying evil demons and what not, but keep it to yourself. We don't need you going about all willy-nilly making a scene everywhere someone sketchy shows up. Even if they're especially sketchy. And use demonic magic. You've got to remember that there's not just black and white; there's some grey area too. Trust me, I've dealt with it all. Now, if you two want to carry on your pow-wow, go ahead outside and tear each other's hearts out. If you start something in here again, I promise you, I'll make you regret it."

He lowered his sword (but not his guard) and returned to his stool. After finishing the last bit of his sandwich and downing his meade, he politely wiped his mouth and hands, and walked over to the elves; they perked a certain curiosity in him.

"Please forgive me in my rudeness, so much time away from civilised fellows has apparently roughened my edges. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Re - no, not yet. I am afraid that I am not ready to tell you the full truth. For now, you may call me Tom if you so choose. What, pray tell, brings you to this gods-forsaken place?"

Edited by Copaman, 13 November 2008 - 07:46 PM.

[Vortigern]

Theria glanced over at Illyriel. The Deathknelf was obviously hiding something, he had said so in words of one syllable, but he did not seem to be someone to fear.

"I am Theria, and this is Illyriel. We're both just passing through here."

"Passing through? Where are you going? Or coming from," he added.

"Illyriel has not yet told me what he is doing here, but I am returning from visiting the Minotaurs. What of you, Tom?" she asked, placing light emphasis on the deathknelf's assumed name. "What brings you to Kavali? And if I'm asking questions anyway, what made you interfere there?"

[Fire Ze Missiles!]

"As for me, I'm just dossing about, enjoying my juvenile years and going wheresoever the wind takes me," put in Illyriel with a smile, "And I second those questions."
All things considered, he had rather enjoyed the fight scene that had just unfurled before his eyes and the fact that he hadn't had to intervene or even move from his seat. A rather enjoyable spectator sport, really.

[Copaman]

"Minotaur, hm? Intriguing creatures. As for my interference, I've had a decent day thusfar - no need to ruin it by letting the mortals test their mortality. Although the fiend, I'm not sure of; something wicked that way walks."

"I have come to Kavali on the grounds that my other choice was Ardent. Having been to Ardent, and being aware of its filth, I have come to try a new town. In all honesty I'm not quite sure what I have come in search of... entertainment perhaps. Surely not employment, and there doesn't seem to be much adventure around these parts. Mayhaps, I'm not in search of anything. I'm fairly certain I am. Maybe there's a chance I'm searching for the person who can tell me what I'm searching for. I do so enjoy philosophy."

He adjusted his scabbards, and motioned to a chair with his hand. "May I?"

[Vortigern]

"By all means." The Deathknelf sat down. "Searching for someone to tell you the meaning of your existence, is what that boils down to. Quite a quest." Theria smiled, cocking her head. "Maybe you came here to meet someone who will change your life. Maybe that person is someone you just stopped from getting killed. Or someone you're talking to right now. Or maybe the gods are simply toying with you, sending you to the edge of the world and back just to spite you." The Deathknelf merely raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Or maybe you have come here to find something worth living for. Or something worth dying for. Maybe you're here to meet the person who will kill you." Theria's smile faded momentarily, but then returned. It was time for a change of subject.

"So which parent was the elf, then?"

[Rafv Nin IV]

Shava was scared. She wasn't actually much frightened, what with being quite certain she could make use of her diminutive size to escape from the dark mage and all, but she absolutely reeked fear. This, of course, was purposeful: by filling her soul with horror, she hoped to be able to impress this onto the mage and incapacitate him. But it was unnecessary, thanks to the human-who-apparently-was-not-human.

Shava jumped down from the dizzying height of the stool. She patted Bazric on the knee, and remarked, "Just because you're short doesn't mean you need to overcompensate. Sometimes it's best to be inconspicuous."

Sauntering over to the elves, she climbed up to another chair around their table. "So many interesting people!" Shava squealed, "In such a small little town. Isn't this a remarkable coincidence?"

[Copaman]

"Ah, the typical assumption. However, I am very proud to say that I am one of the few pureblood deathknelve that walk this land. I have, how shall I put it, a rich family heritage which prides itself on being pureblood, which is one of the most obvious oxymorons one could come by. We have managed to procreate purebloods for generations now, the four pureblood houses intermingling in an attempt to avoid blue-blooding..."

His voice trailed off. "I am afraid I may have said too much already. Please forgive my desire to keep my true identity secret - my past haunts me in a manner such that were I a mortal man, I would have taken my own life years ago. I am afraid that my identity will lead you to this past and thus drastically change your opinion of me - an insecurity which I have carried since childhood."

Was the meade a touch strong? My lips are too loose...

He turned his attention to the gnome for a moment, in an effort to bring her to the conversation. "Aye. Now that you've... overheard... our stories, will you tell us yours?"