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[Vithar-133]

"Oh, yes. More sailing. More Vyre. Fun." Vithar shook his head, checking his straps and buckles. He was nervous, sailing wasn't something he liked.

Vithar grabbed an apple himself an took a few bites. "Small chance of success, great chance of death. Well, what are we waiting for?"

[Rafv Nin IV]

((That's some nice line thieving there, Vithar ))

Shava lay relaxed, stretching out underneath the table that the big folk sat at. "Oh, don't be so drastic, Vithar. It's just going to be a light little jaunt through the woods followed by a tad bit of mind-control and a tad smidge of blood, most likely. Then we can all get back to doing things far more worthwhile, like brainwashing defenseless humans into giving a charming, sweet gnome enormous discounts at their bakeries!"

[The Best Guest]

(OCC:I was hoping you guys would some how run into me, Im not really that great at the whole get into the middle of a story thing)

[Vithar-133]

"Maybe for you, but I'm not exactly unnoticeable. And I can't control minds, either."

Vithar looked up and saw a dwarf. Vithar noted the fact that the dwarf looked to be some sort of warrior. He then noted the hair and beard.

"Well, I've seen alot, but never anyone with hair that shade of gold before, not even a dwarf...Does anyone know him?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
((Line thieving? Why would I do such a thing? Of course that line didn't happen to come from a dwarf sitting on a throne... That ok for an introduction, TBG?))

Edited by Vithar Megilaglar, 20 March 2009 - 01:53 AM.

[{IRS}Athos]

Rindar looked up suspiciously from his mug. "As long as he's not a Deathknelf," he muttered, taking a long draught of his ale.

It's not very wise to continue provoking Tom, nagged a little voice in his mind.

Oh, shut up, he thought back, slightly irritated. I have every right to plague him mentally for what he--

He didn't do any of that, and you know it in your heart. Rindar scowled and slammed the mug back onto the table. There was a time for mental self-struggle, but it was not now. "Who are you?" he asked the dwarf, ready to draw his bow.

[some_weirdGuy]

Zhar looked over at the man in dark robes, who had stepped in with his friend and was now making his way to the counter. He could feel the influence of dark magic on the man, like the smell of smoke which always follows a smoker. He let out a little snort.
This is what they pass off as dark magi these days?
a hissing laughter sounded in his head
Yes, although Zhar must realise that this is merely a young magi, he has a way to go yet
So? Dunt mean 'e gotta be so weak, look, 'e even arms himself wit a sword, Magic musn'ent be strong 'nuff to protect 'im self wit on its own

Hhmmm, he's new, thought Zhar to himself at this new personality. It would probably go away like most of the other random personalities that sprouted up every now and again.

Zhar then brought his attention back to the group's focus, who was just about to introduce himself.
Great, now he's probably gonna join the group too... thought Zhar, wrinkling his noes as if he could smell something bad...

((TBG, you're up))

[Taralom]

Falk tapped him on the shoulder, right before the counter of the crowded inn. Varin turned his head slightly, presenting his ear to the man. 'Varin, I think we've got trouble.'
Varin looked around, without turning his head. The man behind the counter brought them two beers, but except for that, nothing seemed bad. Some strangers, an odd group, several soldiers having their last feast in this town, some local folk, nothing to worry about, it seemed. 'Why?' Varin asked with aroused suspicion.
Falk nodded towards the odd group, barely noticable. 'Them.' He did not say more.
Varin glanced towards the group. He had marked them as ''odd'' before, but he had to reconcider this. The group wasn't ''odd'', they were just plain strange. Dark mages, light mages, humans, elves, it seemed as if the majority of factions and races were represented. And then, he noticed some of them looking and glancing at them. 'How long have they been keeping their eyes on us?'
'Since we entered the room.'
Varin thought for a moment. 'Let's see if they mean us any harm.'
Falk shook his head, bewildered of this strange suggestion. 'How?'
'We'll introduce ourselves,' Varin said with a strange grin.

The introduction wasn't quite as planned. Varin opened his mouth, and before he could speak, a dark mage stood up. 'Welcome, young one, do we owe you something?'
'Uh, no,' Varin stuttered.
'Then why have you approached us?'
Falk threw himself in the conversation. 'My name is Falk, and this is Varin. Why are you staring at us?'
The dark mage grinned, and sat down. Varin looked at the group, awaiting an answer.

===

OOC: any conversation will be fine, and I'll introduce Varin to... well, i guess Zhar, since the bastard is a dark mage too. And after that everyone will get to know the lad

[Rafv Nin IV]

Shava crawled out from underneath the table at the commotion, and, through the use of stools and Theria's leg, managed to hoist herself on top of it. Swiftly, she scanned the two newcomer's minds, and determined that they represented no immediate hostility. Glancing over at Zhar, she murmured in his ear, "Maybe there's somebody here who can stand your conversation, Zhar. The dark robed human looks your type."

Louder, she adressed the young sorceror, ignoring his companion, who seemed to be nothing but a simpleton. "From Green robes to Black robes, I extend a tentative greeting. A cordial gathering here, wouldn't you say?"

[Vithar-133]

Vithar subjected the duo to a quick glance.

:A dark mage with a sword...? This world can't possibly get any stranger can it?:

Vithar shifted his position slightly, putting him in a defensive stance, where he could move quickly to draw his sword.

:The warrior...I'm not sure of him. Better be careful unless otherwise informed.:

[The Best Guest]

"Why hello there" Brok said as he nodded to the group "Im brok and who might you little up starts be?"
"Also by the way do any of you know an elf named lothor or a deathknelf named daggerweave?"

[{IRS}Athos]

"I may know the very Deathknelf you're looking for," said Rindar with false sincerity, leaning forward. "If I do, he's most likely dead. And if I don't, he will be soon enough." He leaned back in his chair with a bitter smile.

You're not going to make many friends that way, the persistent voice nagged at him.

Oh, shut up, thought Rindar, draining his mug and glancing at the other two newcomers. Both humans... nobody I need to kill, then.

[mike_]

Rom and Morion sat in a stable-stall, each cleaning and inspecting their gear after the... sailing voyage. Rom was sitting cross-legged in a corner with his back to the walls, whetting his massive axe-halberd. The spray of the sea had not been kind to the Minotaur - his coarse black hair, greying in patches, was still rather starchy and stiff from the unaccustomed amount of salt filtered through it. In contrast, Morion had not suffered at all - his tall hat and long trenchcoat already weather-beaten as... Arsenician possible.

They were now making idle conversation, each working on their second languages (technically Morion's thirteenth and Rom's fourth, but that's beside the point). Morion was reclining on a small hill of hay and thistle, utterly relaxed.

Morion had lifted Ferrormordis gingerly to eye level, peering down the long sable blade, admiring how the light danced off of its' sharpened edges. Without looking over at Rom, he said, 'Joten Rom ... pidät uudesta lelu? Garik teki hyvin. Ei siksi, että olen yllättynyt. Se ei ole niin jos Garik on maine tekevät huonosti smith-työtä.' So, Rom... like your new toy? Garik did well. Not that I am surprised. It is not as if Garik has a reputation for doing ill smith-work. He paused to wipe off a smudged fingerprint from the blade's fuller.

Rom replied, 'Aye, Morion. Rom and Morion not find Garik in past if Garik not make sword so good.' The Minotaur's etiquette of removing the words, 'I, we, he, et cetera' had carried over into his learning of the Common Tongue - to a Minotaur, using such verbosity implied personal ownership, which was only applicable by a successful Chieftain. It made conversation clumsy, of course, but the reasoning was fair. Not that anyone had ever been willing to argue the point. The small boulder of slate that passed as Rom's whetstone had not missed a beat in its' grinding over the surface of the axe-blade, and so continued undeterred.

Morion paused in the inspection of his own blade to clean one of his multiple boot-knives. Setting the black-bladed bastard sword on his knees, he withdrew a surprisingly pure-white handkerchief and began ceremoniously wiping it down. This continued in silence for a few moments, when he aimlessly inquired, 'Etkö ole varma, mikä metalli Morion parempana. Tämä Drow-teräs on erinomainen merkki, ei virhe, ja menee mukaista. Mutta se petsillä kuin pikku huora. Ei voi sanoa samaa miekka - se on juonut veren useamman eri vihollisia kuin Morion ovat sormien ja varpaiden jättää minua lasketa. Toivelista tiesin missä Garik löytää lähde; maksaa hyvä olla toinen.' Not sure which metal Morion prefer. This Drow-steel is of excellent make, do not mistake, and goes with the set. But it stains like a little bitch. Can't say the same of the sword - it has drank the blood of more different enemies than Morion have fingers and toes left to me to count. Wish I knew where Garik find source; pay good to have another.

Rom set down his axe with a huff, then rumbled, 'Word löytyi, Morion. Word not löytää.' He then drew the gladius from his waist-sheath and began to nonchalantly grind down a particularly nasty scratch running down the angular blade.

Morion, however, was anything but calm. He was sitting with mouth agape, grey eyes staring down into Rom's dark ones. His left eye habitually twitched. He then called out in an overly dramatic, nasally tone, 'Romulus Hauntari! You son of a whore. You know just as well as I do that I don't have the utter knowledge that a magnificent bull such as yourself has at his disposal. How you could lose patience with me is.. is.. is despicable, to say the least!' He lay there trembling in faux anger for a moment longer.

'And the correct phrase is 'The word is not'.'

The pair then burst into laughter, Rom's deep bass fully out of place. That only made their cavalcade rise in density, as well as causing the horses in the stalls adjutant theirs begin to scream in fear. Among other things.

All in all, it was a good day.


((OOC: Sorry for the wall of text - it's been a while and I wanted to do some character-interaction between the two. Hope that's alright ))

[some_weirdGuy]

Zhar stood to the side of where the dark mage and his friend had come over.
"You are an Umbar i would presume? I remember my days among that order... It was fairly small and secretive back then. How many innocents would you say you have slaughtered already? Young children not included" He talked in a conversational matter, the fact he was speaking about murder seemed to not phase him in the least.
"I think at that time i have killed about seven innocents, and a fair deal of the not-so-innocent, including some of the other students... But maybe the dark arts have changed since i was there? Apparently things have become more 'civilized' since their back ally secret society ways... They are more open about their practices and seem to have gone quite soft. I say its progress in the wrong direction," as he said the last bit he looked the young man up and down with a fairly unimpressed look on his face.

"It's sad really."

[Rafv Nin IV]

Shava overheard Zhar's derisive comments to the young magi. As she was not currently engaged in any conversation, she wandered along the tabletop to the pair.

"Zhar, you're rather strange in the head, if that is what passes for a degenerative order in your mind. Actually, you are quite strange in the head--I would know more than the rest of our companions, for reasons I know you know of, and this young upstart does not need to know."

Edited by Rafv Nin IV, 22 March 2009 - 01:51 AM.

[some_weirdGuy]

"You mean because we are such good friends that we know each other and our personalities inside and out? Come now, we can tell him about us, my scarred, butt ugly little love cake" He succeeded it what he set out to do, with the mage making an odd face which matched Shava expression almost exactly
"very funny you murderous demon summoner..." said Shava
"I try, i really... " he paused trying to stop the coming exclamation
"Th-Th-Th-THAT DEMON!...
ehrm, you should probably just ignore that...
yess, ignorsssss s s ss...
Damn, and just when i thought everything was settling down..
I'll Kill You! I'll Kill Your Family!...
um, excuse Zhar for a moment, Zhar needs a word with Zhar. In Private"

And with that odd display he stepped outside struggling to maintain control. Each personality struggling all at once to take over
"you bastards!...
shut up, its my turn to take control. I desire to kill...
nosss, my turnssss...
If Zhar does not stop this annoying babbling and hand control over to Zhar then Zhar will not be impressed...
Stop it all of you"
a man stood looking at Zhar
"what are you looking at!?" he snarled, stepping away.

Suddenly he stopped and straightened
"My turn again" said his nice personality
God damn you!!
That Demon!
sssss

Good Zhar walked back into the tavern
"sorry about that, everyone tried to take control at once so things got a little hectic... im in control now" so he sat back down next to shava and the newcomer
"so... have things become more civilized in the order? I can only hope they will progress so far that the evil is cleansed. The dark arts dont have to be evil, so much good could come from that power."

[Taralom]

one of the group, a woman whose name he did not know, tapped him on the shoulder. As Varin turned around, he saw a wood Elf. She had a dark complexion, which did not suit the rest of her appearance. A silver circlet drew his attention, as she started to talk. 'I'm sorry, but your a mage. Why, if you are a mage, do you carry a sword?'
Varin gave a smile, and stroke his hand through his hair. 'Well, it's one of those new things. We, er I, do not have a limitless power. At some moment, I will have to fall back onto regular weapons. Weapons like swords, axes, bows and others.' The wood Elf nodded out of understanding. 'And, I'm quite the swordsman!' Varin joked with a great smile on his face. Though she did not laugh, Varin did gain the confidence he needed to continue. 'I'm sorry if I'm being rude, lady. But can I ask you your name?'
Now she did gave him a smile. There was a sweet glint in her eyes, as she spoke. 'Yes, you can ask me my name. It's Theria.'
'Theria? I have never heard of such a name.'
'Then you have not had much contact with wood elfs.'
Varin grinned. 'No, I can't say I had.'
She turned around, with a quick, last glance at the mage, and left him alone with the other dark mage, the one they call Zhar.

[The Best Guest]

Brok pointed at Zhar. "What's his problem? Someone left his staff out in the rain? Pansy! Can't even fight hand to hand or control himself! Hahaha!!" Brok bellowed out loudly. "Watch, I bet I'm about to set him off right now!"

Edited by Copaman, 22 March 2009 - 04:23 PM.
Grammar and Punctuation.

[some_weirdGuy]

"Can't even fight hand to hand?" said Zhar in a non-aggressive voice
I'll kill him!...
...deathsss, deathsssssss...
...That Demon!...
...Let me out, i'll strangle the life outta him! Blast a hole through his chest!
"You're lucky i took control... the others would not be so nice, even now they try to claw from the depths. And trust me, they wouldn't fall for any taunting, honor is meaningless to most of them, they would kill you without remorse. This blade has seen hundreds, even thousands of deaths, is that hand to hand enough for you? even without this blade they have servants for that role. They fight with their magic and this cursed blade... but i am not like them."

Brok just stared at the mage
"ha ha, ahahahah! 'your lucky im in control'" he said in a taunting voice, "pah! im scared, i really am, you have me quaking in my boots alright! after that little speech, oh, i'd better not mess with you" he said, again going into a taunting voice.

Zhar did not say anything, concentrating his efforts on stopping the others from breaking through, who were screaming abuse within his mind at both him and the dwarf.

((do you want a little fistfight? serious battle? or no fight? im fine either way but Zhar would win cause he has UB3r l33t m4G1C. with demons and immortality and strong demonic magic... ))

[Fire Ze Missiles!]

((OOC: Apologies in advance for the epic godmod, I got bored of there being no action))

Illyriel stood up, looming over both Zhar and the belligerent dwarf.
"Sit down Zhar, you'll just end up killing everyone," he declared, placing a restraining arm on the mage's chest and turning to the dwarf. "Whoever the hell you think you are little man, I advise you not to mess around with my friends and I. We're exceptionally well-armed."
The threat behind Illyriel's mild words was evident enough and Zhar span on his heel, a look of disgust straining his features, and stalked away into a corner. However, the dwarf was far from placated and called after him;
"Walkin' away eh? What's this, your coward personality?" He snickered.
Zhar stopped dead in his tracks and the atmosphere in the room chilled noticeably. Silence descended with the inexplicable suddenness and unanimity it always does in such situations. For a few long seconds, nothing moved. The dwarf opened his mouth again, saying "What, cat got-"
Zhar was a blur of motion as he span to face him and threw out his arm, striding forwards. Seized in the invisible grip of unimaginable force the impudent dwarf was thrown violently against the wall, struggling for breath; Illyriel was pushed roughly aside by the same force. The mage slid his deadly kriss from its sheath as he advanced, uttering death threats aplenty to the suddenly terrified dwarf.
The room filled with a blazing light and all was chaos. The dwarf slid to the floor and Zhar was flung back through the air. Bazric stood in the tavern's centre as the glare faded, the runes on his claymore and armour glowing with a soft residual light.
"That's more'n enough o' that rubbish, y'hear me? We came here for ale, not a fight. So you," (this to Zhar) "back off and you," (to the dwarf) "shut the hell up!"

[Copaman]

((Thanks))

"Well thank you for beating me to it, Illyriel and Bazric. I was going to keep them from killing each other eventually... I just wanted to watch a bit longer. It was getting interesting," said Tom with a bit of a smirk.

"As for you," Tom addressed the fight-seeking dwarf, "I've heard the name Daggerweave before. What've you got with that family? They're not to be trifled with, I can tell you that much."

His attention then turned to the newest dark mage to enter the tavern, and the young man's companion. "And who the hell are you two? Gods, I've got to get focused... Addressing three people at once can be hazardous to conversations."