Roleplaying application (your participation is required)&nbs

January 4, 2002

I wrote some poems and a few stories on this board already and as my application I am starting this little RPG that I hope you'll all enjoy reading. It requires your participation in order to become anything.

This story starts with a young girl called Imoe, she's about 15 years old, though a bit shorter than normal. She is very pretty for her age and normally has a great personality. I wrote a start of a story. When you've read the start of the story it's time to begin the RPG. This is how this RPG works. You live in a town, or are passing by this town. This town is the one Imoe is passing through in the end of the story. In the beginning of the RPG you are one of the persons who see Imoe walking through the town.

Give your character a name, perhaps a SHORT description (example: tall, brown hair. Full beard, a walking cane and a blue coat). Introduce your character to the RPG and write down what your character does (example: PersonX walks down the streat and notices a girl carrying an axe with blood on his clothes. Stops the girl on the street, cuffs her and frames her for murder), please play your character with feeling and gladly some nice descriptions of your actions, as it will get alot better then. Anyone can participate and play whatever part you want. Try to stay updated with the story though. Do I have to say that I play Imoe? I'll do my best to interact with the people joining this RPG

Ohh, and I might jump the story a few years forward later on. Just to see what happens in the future and perhaps finish some kind of story with it

................

. STORY BEGINS .

................

No, Noooo, please noo. Take anything, take my life, whatever you want. Just leave my wife alone. Nooooo!!!

- Shut that man up, he's disturbing my concentration.

One of the warriors walked over to the screaming man and cut the mans throat.

The last thing that etched itself to the rugged fishermans eyes was a soldier molesting and raping his wife.

From the attic Imoe could hear the last words of her father and the horrible laughs from drunk soldiers using her mother as their toy. Tears fell down young Imoes eyes and fear filled her heart. Fear of beeing alone, fear of what the world had in store for her.

After a while the loud noises started to fade away, it all started to fade away, the screams, the fear and the smell. Embraced in a cloud of tears, Imoe fell asleep. It didn't matter anymore, nothing mattered. Her tears had no meaning, her mothers scream wouldn't make a difference.

When the sun started to shine through the broken glass of the attic window, Imoe woke up. From the outside she could hear a sweet melody of nature, insects, birds and the wind blowing through the trees, but there was no voice who said goodmorning, no sound of people eating breakfast in the kitchen and no sparkling from a burning fire. Carefully she walked down the ladder leading up to the attic. With careful steps she moved closer to the kitchen, expecting her mother to be there cooking breakfast and her dad to open the door with some fresh firewood.

The sight when she entered the kitched struck through her heart and mind like a knife made of ice. Her father was pale and his shirt was covered with the blood from his throat. Her mother laid on the kitchen table with her belly ripped open. Her body had red fingerprints all over it and her face still showed a blood red grip from the man holding her still.

No, they are not dead, they are just resting. They can't be dead, they can't be. Dad, wake up, you need to fetch your axe and cut some firewood. Mom, I'm hungry, make some breakfast, please, mother please. Wake up, stop sleeping. It's morning already, stop laying there, IT'S NOT FUNNY!!!

Imoe walked over to her father and shook him to wake him up but he wouldn't wake. Imoe then walked over to her mother and embraced her, then shook her but she wouldn't wake either. Then the reality struck her, last night wasn't a dream, they are both dead and she is all alone. AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! She screamed but noone heard her out in the forest, an hour walk from nearest town.

After burying her parents on her own, she grabbed her fathers axe which was way to long for her to handle. She then dragged the axe on the ground next to her as she started walking towards the nearest town. After about two hours she arrived there but she didn't turn to talk to anyone, nor did she look up to see how people reacted to her blood stained clothes and the axe she was dragging. She could hear people whispering things as she passed though, and she imagined them pointing at her with red flaming eyes. She didn't care though, nothing mattered anymore.

Edited by: Turi at: 1/4/02 6:38:42 pm

Justin Silverblade · January 5, 2002

[OOC: Sounds like fun, and I am applying here as well, so if it's all right, I'd like to join you here Turi. I will play an adventurer by the name of Justin 'Silverblade' Thomas. He will be having a longer-than-normal stay at this local town at the time of the story. His description is within the writing below. BTW - I liked your opening.]

"Silverblade! Get back 'ere!"

The metal-clad adventurer dodged the tossed wooden mug and watched it bounce it's way down the ally. "Sorry George, I'll have to catch you another time," he said laughingly.

The toothless barkeep exited his tavern. "Like 'ell ya will! This be the third time this month you've jumped outta my tavern without paying. You've got a tab ta pay, and you'll pay it today!" Squinting his one good eye, George the Toothless walked out into the street.

But the adventurer only laughed loudly, and took off down the street. "See you George!"

"SILVERBLADE!!"

Whipping out of the street, and into an ally-way, the adventurer known as Silverblade ran through one corridor and around the next. His plate-mail gave his position away, as well as robbing him of his breath several blocks away from the tavern. Refusing to stop until he could not hear George's shouts he let his legs carry him out of one back ally and into another street. As he came around the corner he nearly ploughed into a girl.

"Whoa! Watch out there lass- Oh my..." When Silverblade took a look at the young lady, he gripped his short sword, and brushed back his dirty-blond hair from his eyes. Up and alert, he looked for her attacker. Blood on her clothes, and axe dragged behind her... it seemed that she had fended whomever it was off for now.

Then it hit him. The whispers in the street (which had now become apparent to him) were directed at her. She hadn't any cuts on her; her skin was clean of it's own blood. The red stains where not her own. His hand gently left his sword, knowing that he may have to return it there shortly.

Silverblade knelt in front of the girl and fought to find her eyes. His face lost the laughter it had ran with when he looked at the girl. She seemed not to care that he was in front of her. Indeed, her gaze, looked distant. "Young lady- m'lady! Look at me! My name is Justin; Justin Silverblade. Who are you and... what happened?"

Gyrfalcon · January 5, 2002

Deep in the shadows of an alley across from where the armored man A Knight? in this section? Or a down-on-his luck adventurer? Too bad he's probably too poor... in all that armor, he'd never keep up with me. was kneeling next to a small girl, who stared silently at him, clutching a massive (for her) ax.

She's covered with blood... gods, wonder what happened? Must have been out of the city, though... don't find many axes that size in the city, and I'd have known if anything had gone down last night... The young man stretched and yawned in the shadows, then slipped off.

As he emerged in the cellar of the Thieve's Guild he belongs to, Erick 'Quickfingers', apprentice thief and mage, with black-dyed blond hair and blue eyes, he thought back to the child.

I'll have to keep track of her...

January 5, 2002

[OOC: I will refer to Imoe in first person to make writing a little easier... Even though Turi and Imoe aren't the same persons.]

Why? Why am I still alive? What is the point of me living anymore? Is there still something I must do before......

*** The train of thoughts was interrupted by someone standing in her way and craving her attention... A stranger introducing himself as Justin Silverblade...

*** Imoe looks up at the stranger with a tear dripping down her cheek... Dry blood covers her face as if she painted herself with red paint.

>"Ehh? Me? I... I am noone... not anymore. But if you really want to know my name was Imoe Fairwater. But... *Silence* ... but now I am just Imoe I guess. *Bows her head again and pauses* ....... They came and... Laughters... they... *Silence* ....... When I woke up my mom and dad.... they... *sniffs* I buried them in the backyard... *cries, but tries really hard not to show it and tries to dry her tears away with her hand...*"

January 5, 2002

She traced a finger along the line of the Total Newbie Handbook as she read aloud, trying to ignore the argument of the downstairs tenants, and the landlord's children stampeding overhead--with hobby-horses, judging by the clicking noises. The table resonated and the ritual circle (the inexpensive punched-tin variety) swayed, almost toppling over onto the book.

"Chapter 2: Squirrels. These are more difficult to fashion than frogs, as their warm-blooded nervous system is complex--"

clank clank clank Clank Clank

Upstairs, the children raced over to the window to see what was clattering so on the street. Eveline licked her lips once, trying to shut out the noises. She forced her attention back to the page and read more loudly.

"--and their fur requires attention. Otherwise, the casting procedure is identical to that of frog summoning."

Clank Clank CLANK CLANK CLANK

Eveline shouted over the crescendo of the downstairs argument.

"Stand before your ritual circle, hands in the fourth position, repeat the formula for frog summoning, but add the phrase--"

CLANK!

Outside the apartment, Justin Silverblade halted to avoid running over a young girl. The children gasped, and held their breath. Downstairs, the argument spent itself.

Eveline screamed into the silence, startling herself. The ritual circle collapsed like a house of cards. She jumped back from the table, then darted her eyes around. Sure enough, a small flame had appeared, this time eating its way up the curtains. Snatching up the wet rag she always kept nearby during summonings, she raced over to the window and smothered the blaze, all the while staring out the window at the peculiar pair.

A ditty from her previous home sprung to mind:

Lizzie Borden took an axe

and gave her mother forty whacks.

And when she saw what she had done

she gave her father forty-one.

January 5, 2002

Balladore looked across the street at a peculiar sight...

A window had recently started emitting flame, and right below it there was a highly armored knight and a young girl, covered in blood, and dragging an axe.

Suddenly, part of a curtain came flaming down out of the window, and Balladore, luckily, had his staff nearby. He muttered a few words, and a jet of water shot out the end of his staff, extinguishing the scraps of flaming material.

He crossed the street, and introduced himself to the pair.

Hello, my name is Balladore... I couldn't help but notice... you, and if I didn't check your aura just a moment ago... I'd suspect that you had done something terribly, terribly wrong.

January 6, 2002

Imoe bowed her head down and the voices kept tearing the young girls mind. For a very brief moment, while Balladore was putting out the little fire, Imoe looked up. Her friendly but sad blue eyes were there no more. Instead, black eyes and her face somewhat transparent. Beneath the smooth bloodcovered skin a dark, hollow ghostly face appeared. Only for a slight moment... Imoe wanted to scream but couldn't. In a split of a second she couldn't do anything, but scream for help in her mind... screams that noone would hear.

"Hello, my name is Balladore... "...

Imoe bowed her head down and shook as if she was shaking something out of her head. Then she looked up with her clear blue but sad eyes and looked at Balladore who just crossed the street.

"I... am so... tired"

*** Imoe starts to wobble a little, then falls down on her knees while dropping the axe on the ground.

[OOC: Silverblade might have seen the ghostly face but that's up to him, if he was distracted by the fire or not... those not standing next to Imoe might not have seen exactly what happened, maybe just that something looked strange. Balladore can decide for himself if he saw or not... (afterall he is a magician and those often have high perception)]

Edited by: Turi at: 1/5/02 8:04:36 pm

January 6, 2002

The Druid decided in an instant: he had to get this girl out of here and somewhere quiet and peaceful, where she could rest and take a bath.

"Come along, young lady," Balladore said quickly, and started to walk off. When he saw that the girl was not following him, he shapechanged into a white stallion, and told Justin to put her on his back. Justin did so, and followed the horse and rider as they trotted to a small, secluded inn called "The Lock and Key," where the druid was staying in town.

Justin pulled the young lady down of the horse, and Balladore shapechanged back into himself. His staff clunked on the floor as the inkeeper nodded at him, and they walked up the stairs to his room. He filled the small basin with water, and set the girl in the room to bathe, as the two men went downstairs again to the tavern to have a beer while she washed.

OOC: I hope I didn't offend anyone, I just assumed Justin Silverblade would want to follow... sorry if that wasn't alright.

January 6, 2002

*** Imoe undresses and lays down in the basin... in the warm water she is able to relax for a moment, when suddenly a voice in her mind. A distant, hollow and wheezing voice telling her:

"Revenge, ssszzzweet revenge... You need me, don't fight me. You need me to get revenge, I will make you ssszzztrong. I have wandered in the spirit dimension for to long now, I need you to fullfill my destiny... Don't fight me, let me in. I will heeeeelp yooouuuuu"

the voice faded away and Imoe bursted into tears... Mom... Dad... Why did you leave me? Why!!!!

*** Imoe cleans herself up, wraps herself in a clean blanket since the clothes are way to dirty, and walks downstairs... She sits down in the stairs and looks silently while people are drinking by the bar. For a while she observes and curls up where she sits alone. With her right hand she plays with her wet, long brown hair...

Justin Silverblade · January 6, 2002

[OCC: Thanks Balladore. And for others, feel free to move Justin to keep him 'in the picture'. Also, in this passage, I tried to play Balladore as little as possible, so that I wouldn't take actions that he wouldn't. Also, I'm going to play as if he didn't see the face... as the fire distracted him and he doesn't see Druid magic everyday.]

"So this is the Lock and Key," said Justin, after he and Balladore had settled in at the bar, leaving Imoe to her rest. "I wanted to stay here, but my gold-pouch was already angry at me for buying this metal." Justin tapped his plate mail. "I don't think I introduced myself, my name's Justin Silverblade. I'm an adventurer, but sometimes I have to be a mercenary, of the good sort of course. Regardless of the trade, I've got eat one way or another, right? Pleased to meet you Balladore." As he extended his hand to shake Balladore's the barkeep walked up.

"What can I get ye?"

Justin smiled. "A couple of beer. The ah... druid? is buying," he said, looking to Balladore with a hopeful smile. The barkeep determined that there was money somewhere between the two of them, and had other customers to serve. He brought them their drink requests.

Taking a big sip out of his beer, Justin looked Balladore up and down. "So uh, you're one of those druids, or a mage? I can't tell you guys apart, except I haven't ever heard of a mage changing into a horse like that. That's impressive stuff. Me, I trust the good old fasioned steel."

Justin glanced to the empty stairs as his thoughts turned to the girl. "Well I wonder what was with that girl. You said you checked her soul, er, aura, er thing and that she didn't do anything bad? Geeze, it breaks my heart to see the young ones get thrown into the real world so quickly. Wonder what happened to her parents..."

Over the remainder of the beer, Justin discussed with Balladore the few words that Imoe had said (including her name). He was about to continue with ideas as to what happened, when his occasional glance to the stairs caught the sight of Imoe sitting on the steps. Justin caught Balladore's eye and motioned his head towards her. "What do you think?"

Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 1/5/02 9:59:31 pm

Wyvern · January 6, 2002

Braggins smiles as he watches his #2 apprentice rapidly tug on his theives gloves and dash off into the crowds flooding the streets... Although Kyle had always shown the most skill in pick pocketing, he had taught little Erick well indeed. If it weren't for those petty emotions that sometimes struck Erick in the heat of his work, he would easily have been #1...

Sighing to himself, Braggin's lies back on an aged rocking chair and lights his pipe. He longed for the streets, the thrill of a robbery, the infamy... yet he knew well that age had corroded his skills as a theif, and it was for this reason that he was passing his skills down to a younger generation... Braggins blows a smoke ring and lets out a smirk at the thought of Kyle and Erick hard at work.

His thoughts and rockings are suddenly interrupted as there is a knock on his door... three knocks, followed by two more knocks five seconds later. This signified the presence of friends.

"Enter..." calls out Braggins, coughing and letting go of the dagger concealed in his boot used for emergencies.

Into the room walk two vagabonds dressed as soldiers. Braggins knew them well... the Gargos brothers. Cold blooded killers who gave no second thoughts to their murders... Their very presence chilled Braggins veins. Never the less, illegal business was illegal business. Braggins only prayed that his two apprentices would never have to make the Gargos brothers acquaintance...

Forcing a smile, Braggin's mutters "Greetings... Anything new to sell to me today?"

The older of the two Gargos brothers nods and takes out a bag of items. Amongst the items are a good fishing net, some fishing garments, and a number of pieces of jewlery...

OOC: I hate to interrupt stories like this, but a great idea for an application Turi. I also like your other works that you posted here previously. You are hereby ACCEPTED as an initiate. Welcome to the Pen!

[image]http://www.legion-whiterose.com/signatures/aoa/wyv.gif[/image]

------------------------------

Almost a Dragon...

"My life is one big crime, I try to scheme through it." -Common, "The 6th Sense"

Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze.

January 6, 2002

*** As Imoe observes the people in the bar she see Silverblade looking her way and whispering something to Balladore, upon which she stands up and walks over to the bar...

"I'm sorry to ask mister Silverblade, but you look like someone that can handle a sword and I wonder if you could teach me. I don't want Legion to teach me because he scares me. I can handle a sword and I would be a good student, I promise"

*** looks up at Silverblade with begging eyes

[OOC: the thought of Imoe carrying a sword is obscure because of her length. (about 115 cm (below 3.5 foot) - Very short for her age)) and to think she would be able to carry a sword would be crazy. A short knife perhaps...]

*** Imoe bites her lower lip in anticipation, while holding the blanket around her body with a tense grip.***

"I don't want Legion to come back... please... he hurts me..."

Justin Silverblade · January 6, 2002

[OCC: I'm not going to introduce Erick, as if he would steal Balladore's pouch, I'll let one of you two write that. Justin would likely be too slow to be any useful help. ]

"Relax lass, no one's going to get you here," said Justin with a smile.

He did turn back to the bar just briefly to finish the bottom of his ale. As he did he turned to Balladore with an inquisitive glance and mouthed the word 'Legion?'

"And I'm sure if anyone could teach ya, it would be me," Justin motioned for her to come closer to him, but instead moved his face inward and whispered: "They don't call me Silverblade for nothin'."

As he brought his body back away from Imoe, he stood off his barstool. "There's one problem though," Justin said as he slowly unsheathed his short sword and placed it on the ground next to her. "It's much to big. I think, daggers were invented for you lass."

Leaning his sword against the bar, Justin searched his body over, and started mumbling to himself. "I'm sure I had a knife around here somewhere, or some kind of short blade. Or did I sell that too? Blast this armour... it better come in handy. Oh wait! Here we are!"

He found a hidden slot in his left gauntlet (if it's possible, /me doesn't know quite how medievil equipment works...) and in it an old dagger. "Not much to look at, but it'll do." Handing it to Imoe, Justin looked/thought for a suitable place to practice (as in the middle of the bar, just wouldn't do). "And then after, you've got to tell me a little about yourself Imoe, and this Legion guy too."

Gyrfalcon · January 6, 2002

"But Braggins, I was going to have the day off!" The young man's voice edged towards a whine.

"Yeah, well, Kyle got sick, so yer running 'is route. Now stop whinning and start stealing purses!" Erick bowed his head slightly and escaped the higher-ranked thief's attentions."

Wonderful... and I was going to go search for that girl... I think she... needs me... or someone like me... Erick couldn't fully word out his thought, even to himself, but he somehow felt his destiny was connected with hers.

He headed out into his territory as the moon slipped above the buildings, eyes scanning for marks, his single spell blazing in his mind, should he need it, the lesser glows of a few cantrips hovering around it.

He remembered something his mage tutor had said.

"Trust your gut, lad. Its what you feel that is most often true."

OOC: Yeah, its short, but its late. *laughs* Anyway, if you want to introduce me to the party now, I can unsuccessfully try to steal Balladore's pouch, and he can snare me with plants (none of my spells can deal with that, though it would be slightly difficult... Erick has increadible reflexes. =))

January 7, 2002

Eveline removed the curtain rod and took down the charred scrap of fabric with a frown. If she didn't get her magic under control, she'd never repay her debt to the ruling mage, and she'd be. . .what would she be? . . .little better than his secretary until the day she died. She chanced a glance at her school I.D., held in a tiny frame on the table. She'd wanted more.

Peering out of the window, she caught a glimpse of someone snuffing the lower half of the curtain, then running down the road after the strange girl. She held up the curtain and inspected the burnt edge. Maybe. . .

. . .An hour and a half later, ashes from the curtain lay in the re-consecrated ritual circle, and Eveline read aloud from a large, diagrammed copy of "Magic with Mundane Objects". The ashes levitated slowly, hovering over the map of the city she'd fitted into the ritual circle, formed themselves into a softly glowing line, then dropped back onto the map.

"Aha," Eveline smiled, closing the book carefully so she didn't disturb the ashes. "He did get some of them on his clothes." She took out a felt-tipped pen and drew a tight circle around the ends of the line, then shook off the ash. One arc enclosed her building, the other curved around half a block downtown. With half a glance in the mirror before she left, Eveline shut the door of her apartment, map in hand, and hurried down the stairs.

Edited by: Minta Rose at: 1/6/02 8:32:17 pm

January 7, 2002

Balladore looked at Justin and shrugged at the question of the Legion... he was a druid, and knew next to nothing about combat, the small things he did know being the basic quarter-staff movements.

The druid continued watching the girl for something... anything that might give him a clue as to what had happened. He knew well enough that he couldn't just come out and ask... it could drive it further back into her mind, and he might never discover it. At least he knew that she wasn't to blame... but still, that blood didn't just appear on her clothes, he knew that.

As more people entered the room, a shiver ran up his spine... and seeing to the fact that they were sitting near the fire, it wasn't from the temperature. Balladore clutched his staff tightly, as if bracing himself for some yet unseen combat... he had a feeling that something was coming... but good or bad, he couldn't tell... as he looked off distractedly into space, he felt another shiver... and then something creeping at his side.

He grabbed at the sensation, and caught, to his surprise, a pouch... his money pouch. He looked quickly to find fingers clasping it before they immediately dropped it and ran for the door. Before he made too many steps, Balladore stuck out the end of his staff, and surprisingly caught the theif. Immediately, the bar went silent, though everyone definately tried to get a look at the pickpocket. The druid stood over the theif, and said menacingly "Well, well... what have we here?"

Edited by: Balladore at: 1/7/02 6:25:58 pm

Gyrfalcon · January 8, 2002

Erick growled at himself, a silent hiss of breath. How could he have been so stupid as to try for this guy's pouch? Granted, the target had been tempting enough, staring for long minutes into the fire... just his luck the man had noticed his attempt to ease his pouch from his belt.

Erick looked up at the man with large brown eyes, set in a face with a half-elven cast to it and with an unruly shock of black hair sprouting from his head.

Please, please, please don't let my illusion spell give out too soon... though my makeup skills and the dim light might cause them to not notice... He thought to himself.

He flashed a bright smile at the man with the staff. "Really, sir, I had noticed it had fallen to the ground by your chair, and seeing you engrossed in weighty ponderings, I choose to try to return it to your belt without disturbing you..."

"Oh really? And the fact I keep it knotted about my belt would allow that." the man responded, tapping his staff slowly.

"Well, guvner, knots do have a way of coming unformed over a day's activities... perhaps you also didn't tie it as tightly as you normally do." Erick replied smoothly.

"Or perhaps your fingers aided the slipping of my knot!" the man said, brows furrowing as he pointed the staff directly at Erick.

Uhoh. "You accuse *me* of being a thief, sir?" Erick said in his best wounded tone of voice, his face a mask of hurt innocence.

"I don't have to accuse, I already know! You've probably been out stealing all day, and now you've chosen to rob some stupid old druid, who wouldn't probably realize that he's being robbed!" the man was becoming more agitated, waving the staff slightly as he spoke. Erick warily watched the end, knowing that he was most likely going to die, with the mutterings of the other occupents increasing in volume.

"You *think* you know, old man." Erick said, righteous anger in his voice- the young man only trying to hlep and now being unjustly accused. "I have not robbed a single person this day, and you may search my clothing if you would try to find proof. I have only a single pouch, with only a few silver in it." All true, since this old man had been the first mark of the evening.

"Would you swear this before whomever your God or Goddess is?" the druid asked, eyes probing Erick's altered features for his sincerity.

"Of course." Erick said confidently, and he would. Mask was the patron of thieves, after all.

The druid gestured impatiently, and Erick said loudly, for all to hear. "Under the eyes of my God, and may my voice reach his ears, I swear that I have not stolen from anyone this day." He fell silent, and after a few moments when he was not struck down, the crowd began to drift away.

"Fine, then. You won't hesitate to join our table and have a drink. After all, even if you did attempt to rob me, I have my money back now." The druid extended a hand and pulled Erick to his feet.

"Of course, good sir, I will joing you for a drink." Erick said. What he actually wanted to do was get away from the inn, but he couldn't rush off, as it would arouse suspicion.

So Erick found himself seated with the armored man he had seen that morning, and the druid, and he was facing the girl.

Of all the strange luck... was his bemused thought.

Justin Silverblade · January 8, 2002

[OOC: Sorry it's short, but I wasn't quite sure how to handle things when we were all together.]

"...so that's the basic 'jab and stab' technique," Justin finished his brief lesson to the girl, having found no ideal place to practice. "When we have the room, I'll show you how-"

Justin looked up to a small scuffle to find his new druid friend 'handelling' another tavern member. His hand went instictively to his weapon.

"Under the eyes of my God, and may my voice reach his ears, I swear that I have not stolen from anyone this day," proclaimed he.

Letting go of his short sword Justin shrugged and turned to the girl. "Well, he sounds like an okay fellow." Balladore led the man to their table, and sat down. "I know I wouldn't lie to the gods."

Justin took a carefull minute to examine the new company; more exactly the new company's build. "Who's this Balladore? More friends?" He looked to the new face. "My name's Justin; Justin Silverblade. This fine woman here," he said patting the smaller, younger lady beside him, "is Imoe. It looks like you've met Balladore already."

Making haste towards his primary goal for the evening Justin, didn't wait for the man (OOC Gyr - Elf right?) to introduce himself, but continued on. "And now that you know everyone, you'd better know something else. We've... well actually, I, have a policy. The new guy buys the next round." Justin smiled widely at the idea of another free drink. In his final step of such an ambush Justin made sure to get the order underway:

"Bartender!"

Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 1/7/02 11:23:58 pm

January 8, 2002

*** Imoe accepted the rusty dagger and looked at it closely. After examining it a little she looked up with a smile and said: "It will do"

Her first lesson in fighting was about to begin and she was alredy feeling a little better because she was now one step closer to her revenge, and without taking help of Legion who kept pestering her mind.

Silverblade showed her a first move and Imoe tried to mimic it the best she could (not doing very well) when she noticed someone sneaking up to Balladore and steal his pouch. She made herself ready to defend that pouch with all she had but noticed how her blanket started slipping and decided to let Balladore handle it himself.

As she was about to tell the truth about the thief she was suddenly struck by something. A force that pierced itself into her mind "No you don't Imoe. Once I have poszezzzion of your body that man may come to good use and you're not gonna make a mezzzz of averything by giving him away. Not that it would give his true zzzzelf away but he might be killed in the procezzzz and destroying zzzzzuch a wonderful tool is zzzzzomething I'm not going to let you do, my little revengeful one"

Imoe closed her eyes, bowed down and grabbed a chair to keep her balance. Out Legion... You are not welcome, I will go the distance on my own. The revenge is mine and not yours. Out - By those thoughts and with lots of concentration she managed to shake Legion out of her mind.

Imoe looked up at the thief as she was just being introduced to him by Silverblade. She looked at him and she knew he was a thief but she didn't say anything. She couldn't. Quietly she looked at the people around her as she made sure the blanket was secured around her body (knowing that was the only thing keeping her dressed and warm at the moment)

*** Imoe sat down by the table and stayed silent while Silverblade was talking about free drinks

"Yesterday *sniffs* soldiers came to the cabin out in the woods where I lived *sniffs* and *sniffs* they cut the throat on my father *sniffs* and they forced themselves on my mother *sniffs*... I was so afraid but when I had no tears left I fell asleep. When *cries* I woke up they were all gone. They had ripped up my mothers belly and there was blood all over her. *cries more* I buried them in the backyard and came here...

[someone around the table asks: Do you know what the soldiers looked like]

I didn't really get a good look but I saw they had blue jackets with a red cross on their left shoulders. *tries to look strong and unconcerned but can't hold back the tears. As soon as the tears appear she whipes them off and tries the best she can not to show any feelings.*

*Turns to Silverblade*

Legion? He talks to me sometimes... He's really scary... He is dressed in a black coat and floats in the air. He has long white hair and looks really Really old. He has no eyes and barely any skin on his face, the little he has still reveals his scull bones perfectly. Sometimes he speaks with many voices and sometimes he argues with himself in different voices. Ohh, and he's transparent like a ghost. He often hurts me and when I walked here he threw me 5 meters into a pine tree, just because I refused his offer. He wants to make me a strong warrior so I can get revenge but he is mean to me so I'm not gonna let him help me

Edited by: Turi at: 1/8/02 4:05:45 am

January 8, 2002

"I don't want Legion to come back... please... he hurts me..."

Across undreamed of distances of space and time, the thought sped. Past domains of gods and powers, through the ten leage thick latticework of traps, snares and triggers to plunge into Valdar's mind as a blade crunches into the base of one's skull.

Legion. . . he echoed.

He stopped and turned, as memories not his own flooded his mind.

. . .The sparkling city lay under a cloud of death, as the Legions of Orcs and Devils looted, raped, and consumed the souls of their victims in the name of Lord Ka'baal, and his captain.Though ultimatley defeated, the shadow of Ka'Baal, and Legion reached far over the planes.

Legion

Countless other cities and entire planes burned in his mad plan to accend to godhood, instead of being a mortal power.

Finnaly, the gods themselves took steps, and the swarm of Demons and orcs died on the plane of Godalon. Ka'Baal was slain where he stood, struck down by the gods themselves, while Legion was taken by the angels and imprisoned in the Spire of Dammnation.

Until that fateful day.

Valdar's eyes lost their mad red-ish tinge, and peered into the cold void.

Duty, honor and Vengance. The thought came from the other entity sharing his mind. And he agreed.

Once again, the elf flew down the path, following the weak thread of thought to it's source. To his suprise, it let him to the place he once called home.

So. . .evil comes to your world now? the entity enquired sadly. Valdar nodded.

"This time, it's personal." He growled.

He plunged into the smooth sparkling plane, letting his shields, traps and snares go.

Time to retain a more Mortal form. he decided.

The aura of power drained from him, leaving all but the faintest glow. The torrent of Mana pouring into him all but stopped, letting only a trickle through, enough to mantain a simple personal shield remained about himself.

With a loud "OOOF" he landed, in a darkened back alley. This town was far from his "home", and as unfammiliar.

*

Valdar was a strange sight, all slightly tattered clothing, though near nigh indestructable by earthly standards, and a bow made out of what appeared to be flexible crystal lit by some inner light on his back. He drew his hood up to hide his characteristic ears, lest it drew attention, and began the close hunt.

Edited by: Valdar and Astralis at: 1/8/02 7:13:26 am

Justin Silverblade · January 9, 2002

When the bartender refused to come to the table, saying "Do I look like a servant to you? Ya pick up yer own orders." Justin went to the bar. He ordered a round of drinks, on "that man's gold, right there, beside the druid," and then procceeded to order food as well. He insisted that they pay later, as he wouldn't be stuck with the bill.

Grudgingly, it was brought, and everyone at the table was provided with food. When Justin arrived back at the table from placing the order, Imoe was speaking. Justin listened carefully, adding in a question here or there. He wasn't afraid of being inquisitive. "Do you know what the soldiers looked like?"

His eyes were deep in thought as he listened to the girl, and then the silence whilst they ate, thinking to himself.

Hmm... well, I haven't seen any of those markings. Blue jackets, red crosses. Whoever they were certainly scared her but good. I've heard of kids creating imaginary friends due to stuff happening in their lives, but, imaginary enemies? If- no. When. When I get my hands on the guys that did this to her family... I'll...

"They won't hurt you here Imoe. Neither will this Legion fellow. We'll protect you. Right guys?"

Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 1/8/02 8:05:58 pm

January 9, 2002

Balladore considers this... He hated to fight... but he also wanted to help this girl... she had been wronged, and he felt like somehow it was up to him to set it right.

"War is the price of peace, and the cost is one we must all learn to bear," came to his mind, suddenly. His father had used to say that. Well, that decided it.

"I'm in. After all, you need other skills besides swordsmanship, young lady, and that's about all Justin Silverblade here knows," he said, grinning, and obviously joking.

Gyrfalcon · January 9, 2002

OOC: Justin Silverblade: Erick is human, but he is currently disguising himself through magic and his skills to look like a half-elf. =)

Erick groaned as the heaping trays of food and drink appeared at the table, large plates being put in front of every person there. Erick looked down at the steak in front of him, and considered that at least he would eat well, even if he could never come back here again...

innkeepers did *not* give out credit, and Erick's few silver and his coppers would not cover more then half of this meal. He shot a *very* nasty look at the plate-mail clad man, who had introduced himself as Justin Silverblade.

Damned adventurers.... find a handful of gold on each orc they kill, and then end up thinking that *everyone* has a handful of gold on them...

Erick sighed and began to eat, listening intently as Imoe described the events at her home. He listened so intently that he forgot to slow his eating, as someone who hadn't seen sights just as grim would. Luckily, neither the druid nor the adventurer noticed that fact.

Those.... demons! Erick's guild had a rather strict, if small, code of honor, and was harsh in enforcing it.

"Do you know what the soldiers looked like?" Justin asked.

Erick listened to the response, memorizing everything. The descriptions would go out that night. Indescriminate murderers and rapists have the unfortunate effect of causing the authorities to crack down on everything and everybody in the underworld, and his guild wouldn't want that. Those men were going to be in a *lot* of trouble...

He blinked in surprise and considered the girl as she spoke of Legion.

That sounds like a lich... what would a lich want to do with a small girl? WHY would he need a small girl?

"...We'll protect you. Right, guys?" Erick looked up in surprise, and locked gazes with Imoe. There was something so frightened, so wounded in her gaze...

Erick breathed out "To the ends of my life."

OOC: Okay, first off, the thieves guild can or cannot take out the men. Depends on if I can report and what Turi or the rest of ye do with them. *grin*

Also, I'm not making Legion a lich... thats just what Erick thinks he is. he could be something completely different.

January 11, 2002

Tattered cloak shifting from one shade of gray to the next as he moved, Valdar silently, but sureley moved from one shadow to the next. The night watch, as most did, tramped right past the alley he hid in with torches ablaze, ruining their night vision.

He turned his back, letting them see nought but another shadow.

There he thought, eyes gleaming.

The inn, to his eyes was ablaze with a red and black aura about it. Evil was lurking here, though invisible to mortal eyes.

A red roaring filled his mind as Valdar's alternate existance tried to wrest control over him. Channeling a vast quantity of mana from one of the many major streams, the thought of the inn, immolated with holy fire formed in his mind-it only needed a word to manifest itself.

It was hard to miss, for several surrounding blocks-the feeling of dread and power attempting to come to fruitation.

'TIME TO DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

No!

The silent struggle continued as he stood rooted in the alleyway directly opposite the inn, mouth half open to speak the irrecoverable words that would not come out.

The demon noticed it too, and fled.

People were stopping to stare by now, at the hooded, partly visible person standing in the alleyway.

"You fool" the voice told him quietly.

Valdar chose not to respond to that, and turned to slide into a nearby shadow.

When the first citizens finally plucked up the courage to investigate, they found nothing, save two blackened patches on the cobblestones where he had stood.

January 11, 2002

[Evening pass bye with food and chatting]

*** Yawns and leans herself at Silverblade's shoulder... after a short while she falls asleep curled up on the chair, covered in the blanket (only the blanket as the clothes are hanging to dry from her washing them) and resting on Silverblade. ***

[OOC: Since some people might want to do things at night I'll pause here for a little while]

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