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[Fire Ze Missiles!]

((OOC: Jesus Christ this is awesome o_O))

Illyriel watched Tom's display of martial prowess in awe. His own combat style was very similar, involving copious spins, dodges and deceptions, but it was nothing to the blade-dance he witnessed from the Deathknelf. Nevertheless, he thought, it would not do to let himself be outdone.
Slinging his bow and drawing his swords with a practised motion, Illyriel burst from his cover like lightning piercing the sky. The shadowy Drow, which had been skulking behind a tree debating whether or not to flee from what appeared to be a band of berserkers, barely had time to jump out of his skin before the elf's blades parted it from him. Before the surprised bandit had hit the ground Illyriel was mid-leap, his feet at the chest-height of a nearby villain. The man span to face him but his attempt at a blow was far too late to have any effect - the clumsy swing passed behind the avenging elf as the man was borne to the ground by the impact of Illyriel's boots. The bandit gurgled as a sword plunged through his throat and another deep into his chest cavity.
Rolling on impact with the floor, Illyriel's momentum tore his weapons form the man's body and brought the elf back to his feet. He cast about himself quickly for targets, but there were none - the cowardly bandits had fled, appalled at their unexpected casualties.
A sudden silence descended on the forest. Still, Illyriel sensed, evil was abroad, but it looked to be bested. Having wiped his blades clean on the human's jerkin, he sheathed them once again. A sudden image flashed through his mind, a Vyre engulfed in blue flames, screaming. Dying. The trees showed him a sense of savage joy at the unholy creature's destruction. Thanking them, Illyriel jogged towards the clashing of blades that suddenly echoed through the tranquil forest.

[Mathijs]

Two large men came running towards Bazric, skillfully evading the wrath of the Deathknelf. The dwarf was no fool, and he knew very well that his small posture would put him at a great disadvantage. Closing his eyes and pressing the palms of his hands against each other, he quickly mumbled a few holy words, and a great bright flash lit up the entirety of his form. With a terrifying roar, Bazric threw his sword towards the largest of the two. The blade pierced through the man's torso, Bazric waved his right hand upwards. A high-pitched sound filled the area, and for a moment it seemed Justicar shattered in hundreds of brightly glowing slivers. The man's body was sliced up completely, and as he dropped to the floor, Bazric threw both his hands up in the air. The slivers of pure light rejoined, and his trusty sword Justicar was once again seen floating in the air before dropping to the ground. This demonstration of power didn't quite stop the other human in his tracks however, and he came leaping towards the now unarmed Bazric. Clenching his fists, the dwarf called forth a barrier of pure light, shielding him from the first strike of the human's sword. ''By righteous fire, begone!'' Bazric yelled as a flare of white fire came from his fingertips, burning out the human's eyes. Screaming and crying, he fell to his knees. Leaping forward, Bazric picked up Justicar and turned back around, slicing through the man's torso.

''Fer the Dwarves!'' Bazric yelled out as he noticed he had run out of immediate enemies to smite.

[Copaman]

((OOC: This is why you don't fuck with Tom Joad. An explanation as to why this is possible for him to do will follow in the near future.))

The humans in the clearing had stopped. They had stopped fighting. They had stopped moving. They had stopped breathing. Until they saw the first vyre dying its incredibly painful death; at which point they broke ranks and fled back into the forest. A sure way to scare humans from a fight is to kill something they think is unkillable.

The vyre began to walk calmly into the clearing, seeming not to notice their fallen brother. "Wrronnngggg day for you, stttrrrriiippy," they insinuated.

"Then I shall make this fair," stated Tom, his swords singing the air. A circle of flame had formed on the ground surrounding him. Slowly, he plunged his swords into the ground, which seemed to extinguish the flame. He took his cloak off and removed his bow and quiver with equal deliberance. A few assorted pouches were the next to go. He was now only wearing his pants; the broad stripes covering his chest and back now became visible. As soon as he pulled the swords back out of the ground, they began to burn just as intensly as before, if not moreso.

As he began to walk towards the vyre, the stripes which appeared to be burning snapped and fizzled, and then did burst into the otherworldy-blue flame. He put his right hand sowrd into his left hand, and scooped up some of the flame burning on his skin. He threw it into the air, where it burst into equal parts and coated his allies' weapons, be they arrows, swords, or otherwise. He tossed his sword back to its correct hand, and began jogging at the vyre, which had assumed a rough delta formation.

"You're dead. All of you," he said. "How dare you disgrace this forest with your presence? And those who you've killed? Their souls will consume yours for all eternity when I'm finished with you. Image having your limbs broken and then severed off one at a time. Now imagine eduring that over and over and over again, for all eternity. Sound fun? You picked the wrong ghost to fight today."

"Reeeeallly? You look mortal enough to usssssssss..." They said in unison. They had now encircled Tom entirely; anybody else would have feared for their lives at this point. Tom feared for the vyre - he was no longer in control of his body: the same magic which fueled his fires now fueled his rage.

As they closed in, Tom pulsed his ring of fire outwards. The vyre jumped back, avoiding the inferno... little did they know that that particular defense would only be temporary. Immediately after, Tom spun around and a wide arc of flame shot out from his sword. It connected with one vyre, which was promptly severed from bottom right to top left. The fire spread from the wound, and soon engulfed every inch of skin the creature possessed.

But he had moved onto his next target, the vyre standing next to the one which had just been hit. He swung his swords up towards the sky, coming at the vyre from below. The vyre was fast enough to block this move, but not fast enough to prevent a kick from sending him skyward. Tom followed after him, ascending into the heavens faster than the vyre. He hacked away at the poor, helpless thing, raising the two of them higher and higher. When he had finished his pummeling, he grabbed hold of the thing and twisted back towards the earth. By the time the two were halfway down, the thing was dead two times over - it had bled out from the wounds and then was singed to a point of obscenity. When Tom and the corpse hit the ground, a wave of blue flame spread out over the ground. The vyre who weren't careful had their feet burnt.

This lead to the flame travelling upwards over their skin - they proceeded to cut off each other's feet at the ankle. It was a waste of time - Tom was up and caught the two of them before they knew what was going on. He swung the swords as one, lopping off the head of one vyre and entering the chest cavity of the other. He wrenched the swords free and watched the bodies burn. The blood spurting from the neck of the one vyre vapoized when it was anywhere near Tom.

One of the last few advanced as silently as it could on Tom from behind. Tom sensed it, and just as it was about to open Tom's skull, he whipped around and stabbed him through the chest while simultaneously cutting its hands off with his other sword.

He counted two left, and looked at his swords. The flame had begun to diminish, and his skin was no longer aflame. He called out to his partners. "The last two are yours. The flame on your weapons shall not extinguish until they are both dead. As for me, one of you must attend to me. I'll explain later." He turned and ran towards his belongings. He scooped them up quickly and turned to where he thought Theria and the gnome to be. It was now a race to beat the flames - when they extinguished, he would pass out, perhaps for days, perhaps for hours. The carnage he had laid out was relative tame, so he wagered in his head that he'd be awake by sundown. He spied one of the few remaining drow making his way through the woods, and he tomahawked his sword at it. The blade found its mark, and as he got up to it and sheathed it, the fire extinguished. His world went black.

((OOC: Thank you, thank you very much. I'll be here all week. @ Vort: this is my demon killer. Also, an update on my leg: the cast comes off tomorrow, and I get put into a brace and begin PT some time there after. Turns out that I have a severly sprained MCL and a torn medial meniscus, not a fractured anything.))

[Vortigern]

((OOC: @ your leg: that's not too bad, you'll be up and running again in no time. @ your post: Awesome.))

Theria's arrows would no doubt have been far more useful in combat had her fellow travellers not been such capable fighters. It was a strange day that found Illyriel outdone in fast, light combat. She could only watch as Tom confronted the Vyre, knowing full well that her arrows would do no good, right up until the moment that Tom's blue fire engulfed her arrowhead. She promptly sent it spiralling directly into the head of one of the Vyre, not following the flight, simply grabbing another arrow. This one, though, had no blue fire around it. It seemed Tom's magic had only worked the once, but work it had. The Vyre she had shot dropped like a stone, the fire rapidly spreading across its whole body until only dust remained.

She watched with admiration and interest as Tom single-handedly destroyed the several Vyre. She had heard great things of the Deathknelf, but, having spent so long among Minotaurs, had never seen one fight. The extraordinary spectacle took her breath away. Before her, Tom sent a blade spinning into the spine of a cowering Drow before falling to the ground, unconscious. She rushed forward, all her motherly instincts suddenly aroused.

"Don't worry about him," said Illyriel, stepping forward. "The fury wears them out something chronic, but he'll probably be awake again by morning. He'll have a hell of a headache, though." The elf grinned. "I said that was going to be some fight."

"You also said there were only three Vyre." Illyriel shrugged. "We'll find somewhere nearby, then, and set up camp," she continued. "Has anyone seen that devil-bound human? And where's Shava?" The gnomess stepped out from behind a bush at the sound of her name, her diminutive frame dwarfed by the towering colossi of the forest. "Illyriel, would you be so good as to find us somewhere to camp, and something to eat if you feel up to it? I'll head out for a hunt once we're camped as well, see if we can eat well tonight. We've earned it, at least."

((SWG, I have no idea where you've gone, so if you want to turn up again, feel free. If not, you could do your own thing for a bit, but remember you're still heading in the same direction as us, regardless. Settle in for a while and we'll do some more exciting things tomorrow.))

[Rafv Nin IV]

((I was looking forward to pulling some stuff, but as they say, it's the quick and the hungry. Awesome posts, by the way.))

Shava stretched, reaching her arms forward and circling them backwards in slow movements. "No need to exert yourself, Illyriel," she informed the group, "I'll get some food for us. I didn't work myself as much as the rest of you."

Without further ado, Shava strode into the woods, leaving the others behind dubiously pondering the gnomess's hunting ability. The companions, however, were tired and content to wait a little while before movement became again necessary. Within seconds, the dense foliage hid Shava from view and the elves and dwarf divided their attention to other tasks.

After several minutes of walking, Shava felt she had traveled far enough from the commotion. She cast her mind about, noting the presence of the most significant animals nearby. Touching upon the conciousness of a few coyotes, she determined that the scent of the bodies had attracted scavengers, just as she had predicted. Shava impressed fatigue and weariness upon the canines, and as they lay down to rest, she came up upon them. After waking the creatures up, she manipulated their minds into tame calmness, and tied three of them together with some cord. Mounting the lead coyote, Shava abruptly changed the animals' emotions to terror.

The coyotes bolted, but Shava had done this before and had a firm grip. She nudged the foremost coyote and directed it back to the camp. It was a rather bumpy, jolting ride, and Shava fell off twice, but each time she merely pacified the canines and began again.

Soon Shava had reached the camp, and put the animals to sleep again. Sliding off her mount, she declared: "I'm not cooking--that's someone else's job."

Edited by Ravnin IV, 25 November 2008 - 05:15 AM.

[some_weirdGuy]

Zhar had not witnessed the spectacle of the Vyres deaths, for he had been busy elsewhere.

In the middle of the battle the man Van, who he had possessed, was literally hacked to pieces (much to Zhars pleasure and excitement). the specter that was Zhars black essence had then moved on, taking another body. this too fell.

When Theria called for Zhar to seek out the Vyre, he had heard her, but did not care. Vyre, as he had found out long ago, did not feed the Kriss as other creatures do, probably something to do with the fact that they are already dead, or perhaps because the lord of hell has no which for the company of Vyre, either way, they did not hold any interest for Zhar to want to seek their death. He had not looked as the first Vyre fell, intent on using the distraction to slide his blade into another mans heart. Instead of taking another host he had decided to do things the old fashion way, materialising once more.

When the humans fled, Zhar followed, stealthily, moving again as a black shadow, sliding across the ground. He was intent on seeing all of them dead, all of them would fuel his immortality... there would be no survivors if he had any say in it.

And he had his wish, pouncing on the fleeing men one by one, killing them quickly and slinking back into the shadows. This only fueled the mens fear, and when he finally caught the last runner he found that he was quite a ways away from the group. But he felt invigorated, and the kriss was buzzing with unholy red glow, chaotic runes showing up brightly along its rust and blood drenched blade...

He considered just leaving, but as he though of the group he felt compelled to go back...
"Damn you! this is your doing isn't it!?" he cursed, accusing his little 'shoulder angel' personality
Of coarse im doing it, if i wasn't still so drained i would have also stopped you from killing those men, there was a pause;
is this immortality really worth the price we pay?
"yesss it isss, for i will finds a wayss to overcome..."
"...That Demon! Then i Be Free Of His Cursed Hold!!" the next personality surfacing
but it wont be easy Zhar...
it wont be possible said his good personality within his head
"oh, its possible" said his dark side, once more in control
"i will find a way and then i will truly be Immortal!" he yelled the last word, scaring a crow into flight.
His dark side receded, and for the first time in a long while his original self gained control.

"Let us head back, if the group is there then we rejoin, if not then we go our own way..."
the group within, for the most part, seemed to agree, even if somewhat grudgingly
Deal...

((ok, so if you guys start moving again before i post again Zhar will show up on the way, if not then he'll rejoin you at the camp))

[Vortigern]

"Coyotes?" burst out Theria, unable to restrain herself. "How in the name of all that's holy did you rope in three coyotes?" Shava simply smiled indulgently, before sitting down again. Theria shook her head, as though to rid herself of the sudden attack of confusion. "I'll cook them up, then. Someone get a fire going."

* * * * * * *

They awoke the next morning, moist and stiff from a night on the ground, but all prepared for a hard day's travelling. The coyotes had been surprisingly tasty once Theria had added a few bits and pieces she had scouted out from the forest floor, and they had all eaten well; Theria estimated Bazric to have eaten roughly his own body-weight in meat. All but Tom, that was. He had not woken up the night before. If he proved ready to journey today, they would find him some nourishment along the way.

"Time to move, people," she ordered. "Up you get, Tom," she added gently, patting the Deathknelf on the shoulder. He stirred and slowly awoke. Theria looked into his eyes, searching for signs of stress or overexertion, but she could see none. The half-breed seemed just as energised as he had been before the fight. "Are you going to be alright today?" The Deathknelf groaned and nodded. Theria had done her best to find him somewhere comfortable to sleep, but solid ground can only yield so much. She helped him to his feet and favoured him with a pleasant smile. "We'll find you something to eat soon," she promised him. "Bazric here dealt with all the leftovers from last night."

"'Ave ye seen owt of that human yet?" asked Bazric, feeling the mention of his name gave him license to contribute to the discussion.

"No, I'm afraid not. Still, if he doesn't show up, that's probably the better for us in the end. He might come back, though. A mental case like that, you never know," replied Theria. It seemed strange to her that she was seemed to be being looked to as the leader of this small band of heroes. My band of heroes. She smiled. We could change the world.

((OK, wake up and get moving, everyone. We'll see if we can have an incident-free day this time. Don't worry, there's plenty lined up in the near future. Just a bit of getting-to-know-everyone would fit nicely at this point, methinks.))

[some_weirdGuy]

Zhar walked at a leisurely pace, holding conversation with himself.
As he walked he flicked the kriss knife around his fingers, it still glowed slightly, and it seemed as if the trees shied away from it when he held it near. But that was probably just the wind though.
it was very strange, for it seemed like the first time in a long while, he was... not unhappy. Sure he was by no means content or happy, the torments of every day stayed with him. The unsatisfiable hunger, the pain, the constant head ache and the feeling of being unwell. Also he still seemed to lack the emotions of happiness, remorse, love...

"How many years has it been since i last took a woman?" he said out loud
well before that demon! he made sure of that!
...more then eighty years... actually more then a hundred! at least.
...no, you took that woman a couple of years after freeing the demon
yess
"but nothing 'happened'"
no, you killed her... what did she ever do wrong? you have been a monster for so long...
shut up! i killed her because i wanted to...
"yes... you did" if Zhar could feel remorse then he would be feeling it now, but he wasn't, and felt all the worse because of it
"... tell me, why can you feel bad about the horrible things we do, but none of the others, including me, can?" he directed the question at his good part
i dont know, but i wish i couldn't, the things you've done...
...yeah yeah yeah, everyone shed a tear for good Zhar
yess, ssshed a tearsss
"now now, dont start arguing in there, its irritating when i cant get along with myself"
shut up you bastard!
Zhar only laughed, a joyless, cold laugh...

Edited by some_wierdGuy, 22 November 2008 - 12:14 AM.

[Copaman]

((Sorry for the godmod here; otherwise, the playing out of my character would take a whole 'nother page. BTW Vort turns out I dislocated my kneecap as well. This doctor's an absolute idiot. My leg doesn't even feel like it's mine anymore - its so weak. Surgery had also become a looming possibility.))

Tom put his gear back on rather deliberately, his body aching in an unimagineable way. As he did so, he mumbled to himself about random things - his sleep had been haunted by images of fights past, although some fights he did not remember. His initial reaction was that these were visions of future fights, but his logical side regained its control and he quickly dismissed them as figments of his imagination. "Thank the gods we can't all do that ... they don't know anything ... no survivors, no witnesses ... why do they always try to run ... thank the gods we can't all do that, the world would be ripped asunder ... who am I and why am I here, why aren't I dead yet ... they tried to stop me; they were protecting him. They didn't need to die. ... they need me here. They can't fight him alone. ... they don't know who I am."

He repeated his last statement to put an end to his mind's wandering. "They don't know who I am." Ghosts of the past are only for warriors who are ashamed of what they have done. But who am I kidding?

He took out a drinking skin from beneath his cloak and took a long draught. The strange mixture of waters, spirits, and juices was something unique to the deathknelve; and each pouch was blessed by the priestesses which were now scattered about Arsencia since the raizing of Shadowfang Keep. He was one of the lucky few to own a skin, and one of the even fewer to own a second.

Tom followed that up by taking a pinch of herbs from another pouch. He put them in his mouth and chewed for a bit, and then spit them out rather forcibly. While they soothed his aches and made his body feel cool, they tasted like absolute minotaur feces.

"Well, I'm ready to go. Are we moving off yet?" he asked to no one in particular.

Illyriel stepped forward in a nonconfrontational manner. "I'm ready to move, but I have a question to ask of you. I've seen the deathknelve fight before, but there's only one I've seen who can do anything similar what you did. And what, exactly, were you muttering about a few minutes ago? You hesitated to tell us who you were in the inn; if I am to trust you anymore on the feild of battle, I must know who you are."

Tom sighed, and then drew in a long breath. "Very well," he said. "I suppose you have a right to know. Besides, I was going to tell you all sooner or later anyways." He looked at the sky and then opened his heart.

"My true name is Rethalar Daggerweave. I am the son of Aelfieron Daggerweave and Eriennae Soulfyre, the last royalty of Shadowfang Keep; I, following that logic, am the last king of the deathknelve. My inherent fighting abilities come mostly from my father, who possessed an ability and fighting style similar to my own. My mother's family, the Soulfyres, have always been able to conjure an otherworldy fire, undying and cool to the touch of our allies but extremely fatal to our enemies, justly sharing the family's namesake. Putting the two together, you get me. The ability drains me of strength and plays with my sanity."

"I was previously a hired sword - a king without a crown nor keep, and no followers, is naught but an average man. I lived job to job for years before I met my match. I was assigned to kill the next heir of a trivial throne in the human kingdoms; all I was told was that the man was a threat to an upcoming revolution. When I arrived to the place where I was to make the kill, I found that the man was but a child and his parents were with him. When I made my advance, they had been expecting me - they begged me to spare their lives and they huddled around the boy. I suddenly found myself incapacitated, which is when the warlocks swooped down upon us. My boss had arranged a backup plan should I not be able to carry out the job."

"As they began to melt the skin off of the parents, I was possesed by the soulfyre rage which lives with me and my blades. I promptly gave off an immense ball of the flame, vaporizing the warlocks. It backfired, however. I found that the family had been burnt asunder when I woke days later, only shells of their carcasses remaining. It haunts me to this day."

"After that job I began drinking heavily and I skipped from town to town, avoiding detection under the monoacer of Tom Joad. Those who knew of what I previously did for a living began immortalizing me as the ghost of Tom Joad, in reference to my coming and going and my loose mental state. I had been searching all this time for one thing, my redemption. And I feel I have found it."

He put his hood up and looked at his feet. "I'd prefer if you just called me Tom, however. Easier to say, y'know?" He shed a silent tear under the hood, and turned to the nearest tree. He got on his knees and said a quick prayer to his gods and finished off with another swig from his skin. He stood up and turned around to face the group. "I'm ready."

Edited by Copaman, 22 November 2008 - 12:12 AM.

[Vortigern]

Their journey wound onwards, through the forest, unhindered thenceforth, despite Theria's worst misgivings. Every nightfall, she and Illyriel would sing again, would acknowledge the land, feel their way around the clefts and canyons, the trees and rivers, planning the route for the next day with the help of the land itself, almost. Sometimes Tom would join them in song, other times not. Theria developed a strong interest in the Deathknelf; she had always been drawn to males with an element of mystery about them. Mystery and danger. Traits which the ghost of Tom Joad seemed to have in plentiful supply. She had done as he asked, referring to him as Tom; Theria felt a degree of respect between the involved parties would not go amiss before a genuine friendship could be embarked upon. Just friendship? wondered a little voice at the back of her head, on every occasion. She would smile, shake her head and return her mind to matters of genuine importance.

Illyriel came to her on the morning of the sixth day. "We're being followed. I don't know what by, but there's definitely something there."

"Something?" repeated Theria doubtfully. Illyriel merely nodded. "Who would be following us?"

"That black-magic human," answered Illyriel instantly. "I've been giving it some thought, and he's my chief suspect."

"I'll talk to Shava," Theria decided after a moment. "Let's see if she can tell us anything more." The mutilated little lady bumbled across the campsite at the sound of her name.

"What's going on here?" she asked.

"We're being followed," said Theria, opting for straight talk. "I don't suppose you can tell us anything?"

((Ravnin, be creative. You get to decide what's following us. It doesn't have to be SWG at all. EDIT: And make an allowance for Dauth's character having just arrived. Feel free to write him a little entry too.))

[Dauth]

{{OK here goes the entry}}

Theria and Illyriel, both feel the unease of the forest ahead of them, not a threat, just something there that doesn't belong. The centre of this feeling is some miles away in a small clearing dominated by an ancient tree, it's branches hanging loosely whit age and the long pulse of it's sap bringing a reassuring calmness to any traveller, man or beast. Illyriel quickly ascertains the true nature of the trees newest inhabitant, human and for some reason very scared. Deciding he is of no threat Illyriel moves past and allows the rest of the troop to move in on the human.

Thaos meanwhile is winding his pulse down from a frenetic hum, What were the chances that the High Priestess and the Captain of the Guard were the Chief's daughters, and what is this about remaining pure? Why do they never interrupt either before or after, at least when I'm wearing some clothes! Just for once I'd like to leave a town without being forced.

As the bulk of the party move into range of the tree, a masculine voice betrayed by a cold wind around the groin calls out. "Hail friends, do you have any shorts?"

[Copaman]

((@ Dauth: Very good writing. Is this your first time RP'ing? I only have two suggestions - write in the past tense (makes it a bit easier to understand/read), and try not to play other people's characters for them. We're all guilty of it at some point or another, but we like to avoid it when we can.))

Tom heeded the call. "And why, exactly, would you need shorts? Please do tell... And a name would be nice as well." He turned away from the tree to allow a chuckle to slip out. "Normally, I would have taken you down from there, tied you up, and tortured the information out of you, but you don't seem like much of a threat - not that any human would be a threat."

He looked through one of his pouches and pulled out his training pants. They were nice and loose for good range of motion through his wildly acrobaticfight sequence training sessions, and were made to fit a deathkelf, not a human. He then pulled some cord out from the same pouch and tied the pants to the shaft of an arrow. Tom promptly shot the arrow towards the tree-bound human, and it embedded deep within the tree's bark.

"Put them on, get yourself decent, and come down slowly. If you run, we will find you," Tom shouted up to the man. While his threats were empty, it was better to keep a scared man scared, in his mind.

[Dauth]

{{Point taken, I was advised to do a little just to allow something not ludicrous as an entry, I'm more a Pen and paper guy with a library of past campaigns, including porting Fallout 2 to Cyberpunk 2020}}

"I need shorts because I am slightly deficient in the clothing area at this juncture, and to you second question, I am Thaos Farndale, however few know me by this name" An arm reached out and grabbed the arrow with shorts and after a few moments rustling Thaos descended from the tree wearing the shorts, which were tied tight using the cord from the arrow.

"I am a traveller and sampler of all things fine in life, wine, food & company, despite this I have no heritage and have on a number of occasions been run out of towns for being a peasant and not a noble. This last town I was interrupted during a delicate moment with a very repressed High Priestess, her father, the Chief wishes me dead. I escaped, something of a skill if I may say, by jumping out of the window and onto the stable roof. I stole a horse and made my escape. Once clear I got off the horse and bid it turn home and thus hopefully pacify the Chief somewhat."

Thaos during this long speech shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep his shorts from slipping while also avoiding anyone drawing a weapon.

"Allow me to repay your gesture of kindness dear sir, I am well respected in a number of local towns and can easily arrange for your party to enjoy the finest board for only a token fee."

[Vortigern]

Theria shrugged, glancing at Illyriel and then Tom. Both Bazric and Shava seemed wholly unconcerned with where they slept, or where the journey took them. Theria's fellow elvenkind both looked slightly apprehensive at the prospect of accepting an offer of lodgings from a total stranger, but Theria could almost feel the comfort or a mattress beneath her sore, tired body one more. She spoke on behalf of the group.

"We will happily accept your kindness, sir. I am Theria Moriarty, and my friends and I would appreciate at least one night in a real bed." Illyriel cast her a worried glance, but she ignored him. "Even in autumn, the ground is hard and unforgiving."

((This is me doing the thing again where someone else gets to decide what we do. We're probably going to follow Thaos to whatever town he has in mind, and see what occurs. Note: I said probably. ))

[Rafv Nin IV]

((Sorry that it took me a while to post, so I guess I forfeited my turn.))

Shava glanced up at the stranger whose arrival had interrupted her conversation with Theria. "There's your answer," the gnome told the elf. "His complexion is a bit strange...mendacious, I suppose. Anyway, he's glib and false. Don't trust him too much. He's rather proud of himself, isn't he? But he ought to be fun to have around."

Setting her petite frame on the ground, Shava dug into her breakfast with a vigor unwarranted by her size. She appeared quite intent upon her meal, but in truth was merely ending the talk so that she could better evaluate this newcomer's mindset.

[some_weirdGuy]

((Sorry that it took me a while to post, so I guess I forfeited my turn.))

No! get in there and find out about whatever 'evil' thing is behind you!
(remember, it doesn't have to be me)

Now go, do it... dooo it.

VORTIGERN: I never said it had to be evil. Don't worry, Shava will get another turn soon enough.

[Byakuya Kuchiki]

Nowe Alchiron leaned up against an ancient Elm tree listening to the night around him. Something unusual was going on in the forest, the trees where uneasy, and a silence descended over the birds. Speak to me. Nowe whispered into the night.

Fires...monsters....creatures...burning...fire...alarm... the trees spoke back.

The trees had stired for something wicked in the forest. Fire was ravaging somewhere, perhaps already over, but then again perhaps not. Nowe sighed, it was unusual, that was for certain. The trees had dealt with creatures before, but this sounded different, almost urgent. Nowe dragged his long staff into a position to help himself up. As he got up, he was careful to move so his scimitars would keep their positions and not clang together.

Point me. he whispered.

A light wind began to blow in a southern direction from the north, the trees whispered into the wind. Something...here...evil...coming...help...

Nowe began lightly running, but for a drow it was quick. Silently he ran along the ground, not a twig or leaf disturbed by his passing. He quickly strapped his staff onto his back to allow him to run without it. The crystal atop the staff had dimmed from its normal peak glow into nothing more then a mere reflection of the moonlight, soft and radiant. He arrived at the destination, the wind suddenly ceasing. He stood just outside of the sightline of a few people. He began listening in on the conversation, hopefully unnoticed.

[Vortigern]

The group trudged on in silence as the light of day slowly waned. Theria had long since begun her misgivings about the human who now led them a merry dance through the woods, but she held her counsel. Illyriel's occasional glances as he came out of the shadows for a few moments were more than enough to confirm that she was not alone in her suspicions.

Something caught her eye in the undergrowth; movement. Shadows, rolling about, unable to settle. It was an effect she had seen before: the effect of darkness on the skin of a Drow.

"Come out, night elf," she commanded. "What brings you to our company tonight?"

((Nowe, at this point you may feel free to redirect us towards whatever evil you may have been sensing. Oh, and if anyone else gets there first, you might just be able to figure something out, I don't know. ))

[some_weirdGuy]

((VORTIGERN: No, there's nothing like wargs. There are wolves, mountain lions, horses, dragons, lizards of various form (maybe you could have a giant lizard, but I'm turning it into a wolf, because that's more likely in a forest anyway) and a few other kinds of animals. But this is not Middle Earth. There are no wargs. I'm also going to correct your grammar while I'm here.))

Zhar waltzed almost drunkenly along the path, swaying from side to side, humming a little tune. He was not drunk. He could never be; even the slightest drop of any drink would have him gagging, and feeling even thirstier than before. Food had the same effect: his stomach had long since stopped growling, but the hunger pains persisted. In time, he had come to be able to push them to the back of his mind, still constant and nagging yet not clouding his thoughts as they once did.

"Oh, poor Zhar, poor poor Zhar," he cooed quietly to himself. He suddenly heard a growl from the bushes to his left, and flipped around just enough to dodge the large beast.
It was a wolf. After leaping and missing it turned about face once more. The beast looked starved, and the insanity brought on by this could be seen in its eyes.

Zhar chuckled dryly. "We're not so different, you know." The beast leapt once more, and Zhar again narrowly dodged it, but it managed to cut into his back.
"Ow! I dont like you any more!" With that Zhar's kriss flashed to his hands, and he ducked down and sprang on the attack, the wolf doing likewise, falling back to its haunches, preparing for the assault.

Zhar's kriss stabbed up into the creatures stomach, and the creatures teeth went close to his face, but with his other hand Zhar dispelled ((dispelled means he got rid of it, and it's generally abstract)) released a ball of dark magic that pushed the creature back.

The wolf's eyes clouded over and it began yammering and howling at terrors only it could see. It whimpered like a pup and shied back from the visions before its eyes. Zhar stepped forward, looking for a moment at the wound in the creatures stomach; it was mortal, but Zhar would not kill the creature to prevent its suffering. He would kill it without thought, just another victim for his demon blade.

The wolf howled one last time as Zhar killed it. The corrupted magus turned and began walking again. As he trudged on a new personality gained control of Zhar's shattered, abused mind and body, this one not waltzing, but walking solemly, a funeral march.

"Poor, mad, insane, crazy Zhar..."

((VORTIGERN: SWG, I didn't want to say this, but PLEASE use capital letters and punctuation at the right moments! It drives me near insane, because I'm anal like that. Firstly, there must be an article of punctuation before the end of speech. If the sentence ends with the quotation mark, the punctuation immediately prior must be a full stop, a question mark or an exclamation mark. If the sentence continues (e.g. "I ate your baby," said Chris.) then you need a comma, though question and exclamation marks are also acceptable at the appropriate times. As for capitalisation, this is necessary at the start of every new sentence, as I'm sure you already know. I don't mean to sound rude here, but I really would appreciate proper grammar and whatnot.))

((Yeah, i know, i sometimes try to go back and add in some capitals, but mostly im too lazy to go through and add them in everywhere. Bad habit, i know, i'll try to do better.
I made it a warg because a wolf would be in a pack, and i wanted something a bit more fearsome but still only a single beast. and a lion or tiger didn't seem right. I remember nowe had this rpg very fantasy, with trolls and wyverns and stuff, so i wasn't sure if there were wargs, or if you kept them even if there were.

And i knew dispelled meant that... but it sorta sounded better then anything else, as he is releasing a spell... i just used the word without really thinking, i guess))

Edited by some_wierdGuy, 29 November 2008 - 12:01 AM.

[mike_]

"Come out, night elf," the slender woman commanded. "What brings you to our company tonight?"

Emitting a bass rumble far below that of human hearing, Rom thought to himself, "Rom was right... night-cloak durg is here. But is it scar-face? One way to find out..."

As the Drow stealthily ambled out of the bushes, Rom rose to his full height of nigh-on fourteen feet - massive even for a Minotaur. Bellowing a traditional war-howl, the oversized-Minotaur charged forward and swung his suitably-sized battleaxe from his right at the Drow's surprised face.

(OOC EDIT: Sorry for the god-modding, trying to keep it small. And I'd like to have a short (not-fatal) fight scene here, hehe )

Edited by mike_, 28 November 2008 - 03:12 PM.