The Deplorable Quest for Immortality (IC)

[Othello]

Act I: The Conflict in Almor

The stage is set, massive numbers of Great Kingdom troops gathering to the eastern border of the small Prelacy of Almor. This is the third time that the Mad Ivid the Fifth has tried to attack and take Almor, and so far he has had no success, mainly due to the support to Almor from the Kingdom of Nyrond, their great Cavalry overrunning the legions of the Great Kingdom every time. But this time something seems different. Every attack that the Great Kingdom has made so far is much more calculating and effective than before. Right now, the Great Kingdom holds half the land of Almor, up to the Harp River. So far both sides are amassing forces on the river, the Great Kingdom to the east, and Nyrond, Almor and their allies. Both sides seem to be waiting for something, maybe the other side to make the first move, no one is quite sure. Whatever the answer to the conflict is, it will surely be great and devastating for both sides involved.

Scene I: The Legion of the Undead

This adventure begins in the city of Womptham, in the Realm of Nyrond. It is a cold day in Early December, the 3rd to be exact, in the year of 585. Each of your character awakes that morning to the loud sound of shouting, screaming and other commotions coming from the town center. As you roll out of bed, or wherever you are sleeping, you look into the town square to see a group of 3 men on horses, they look very much so like scouts, in the center of a crowd shouting out. You get dressed and make your way outside, pushing towards the center of commotion trying to hear what is happening. It is not long before you find out what has happened. The three men, all now very pale and shocked looking drop from their horses, nervously shouting news of their tale to anyone who is willing to listen. You hear shouts warning of a massive army of the undead, moving in through the north borders of Nyrond, through the town of Knurl, right on the edge of the Flinty Hills. You move closer to the three men as one of them starts to tell his story from the beginning.

"Oy, terrifying it was! Skeletons, more than I've ever seen! Chasing us like they 'ad the cracks of their devil masters right at their 'eels! It ain't nuthin' I ever seen before, that's for sure. They took us by surprise, came in at night, they crawled right out of river bed itself! The Crown Prince 'imself couldn't even stop them. Last we saw of him was him fighting with his blood guard, trying to stop the skeletons back in the 'ills!" The men in the crowd take a break from shouting and pull out a piece of paper.
"This 'ere is the last thing we got from Crown Prince Bettencourt, it's an order, to send all available men up the Great East road through the hills towards Knurl. We have to try to stop this!"

By now a group of men, one quite royaly dressed approach the crowd, and several burly soldiers with the man in the regal attire disperse the crowd. His face is one you recognize, as he is a man you have all helped before. His name is Berren Copperdrake, and he is the Earl of Womptham, the ruler of this city. He takes the piece of paper and has the three scouts escorted out of town square and into the town hall. The Earl has a large looking man in maille and court regalia come up to you. They each great you with a gruff hello and tell you that the Earl wishes to address you in the Hall, and it would be best if you got there as soon as possible.

OOC: Please post an introductory post with your character, why you are in Womptham (only if you want too), a description of your character, and your subsequent actions.

EDIT: Rules: (I know you guys know these, it's just because.)
1. No auto-hits
2. No God play
3. It always comes back to the DM
4. Everything in moderation, and try to be tasteful with your writing (nothing unnecessarily graphic/sexual/violent/whatever)

[kemmotar]

Kara lar was having the best sleep in a long time. After sleeping in the wild, ran down inns, military encampments, and other cold and uncomfortable sleeping arrangements a bed was the closest thing to heaven she could experience without being worried about actually going there. She had been following the armies around in several battlefields

The bed was soft, the coverings warm and her body clean and her skin scrubbed until it was soft and red. She had filled her belly with hot food and delicious tea the previous night and dreamed serene dreams. That was until she heard the screams...she tried to ignore them for as long as possible but soon got up

I know that sound...it just happened to be today didn't it?

Kara-lar was always cranky when she had planned to sleep in and is woken suddenly for whatever reason. Granted always staying near the war front was beneficial in her line of work as she didn't have to travel far to get her pay. She may not need the money too much but in a way, it was always fun, it always gave her a rush unlike any other...running, dashing and dancing through the battlefields, the tangle of bodies, the smell of blood. Ah but it was time to get going...but not without some tea. Still in her nightgown she opens the door and shouts at the innkeeper

Master, may I have some ginger honey tea in a minute or two?

Once she gets her answer she closes the door and splashes cold water on her face from the basin near her bed and starts dressing. Her armor goes on first, one of the fresh red dresses she keeps in her bags, she straps the scimitar holders to her back and places her scimitars on them. She slings her bag over her shoulder, reaches in for her bottle of perfume and sheds a few drops of it on her hands and ran her hands through her hair and touched the side of her neck while looking outside her window.

Refreshed she breathes in and leaves the room, as she goes by she grabs her cup of tea and slowly heads outside listening to the soldiers shouting their tale.

Once the man approaches, she acknowledges the invitation nodding her head with the tea warming her hands and heads off to the direction of the hall sipping her warm drink. Once there waiting to be called she examines the room while tunes dance in her head, another melody she might or might not write down, one of the many. The current one is slow and melancholic with a tinge of discord, it gives off the feeling of the climax yet to come, a doubtful climax unsure whether it will actually come or not. Quite aptly describing her mood at the moment she thought with a smile.

[Feirgon]

Tyler Kensington

Chapter 5: Into Ashes

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Tyler slowly opened his eyes. He had fallen asleep. He never falls asleep during his meditation.

Oh no!

But his realization was too late. As he stood to draw his weapons and sound an alarm, a powerful burst of energy to his right sent him flying into an unconscious heap hundreds of feet away. The enemy had targeted his tent first.

---

A cool breeze brushed across The King's face. He awoke lying on his side. A thick fog surrounded the entire area, though it did little to hide the massive amount of death around him. The silence in the air was deafening.

Slowly, he lifted himself off the ground. Dirt lay upon his body from head to toe and pieces of his tent lay all around him. His body nearly refused to move, but he pushed the pain aside. He looked around to gather his bearings, but the fog was disorienting. What he could see were the bodies of his army, but, surprisingly, none of the enemy. They had truly succeeded in ambushing the encampment.

But the attacking army must have been large to kill nearly everyone. How could they have gone undetected?

Scouring the field of dead, Tyler was able to find a few other survivors. And it was during a conversation with one that he learned that the enemy had attacked from behind; from the direction of Eone.

After learning this, Tyler assembled what men could move quickly with him and hurried back to the castle. They discovered the fate of Eone long before they reached its gates.

Plumes of black smoke reached into the heavens from the decimated castle. The group of men could not move fast enough as they approached the city with emotions palpable.

The fires still raged when they reached the gates. And a very uncomfortable truth was seen. The enemy had turned the entire city into a graveyard, barring the gate and burning all within its walls.

Tyler could no longer stand. Falling to his knees, he thought of the people he had failed to protect. Their king lived, yet they suffered cruelly at the hands of bastards. Tears began to fall from his eyes as he looked upon the horror. Then he cast his eyes up to the sky, asking once more: Why?

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This is a continuation of the story in the OOC thread. If you would like me to compile Chapter 5 all into one spot, just let me know.

His meditation ended at the sound of the commotion outside the inn. Tyler rarely slept these days, still holding himself responsible for the loss of Eone many years ago.

After the incident, he had let each of the remaining survivors become land owners. With the kingdom in shambles, he told them to sell the writs as soon as possible. He also asked them not to follow him. He knew his path was one of revenge and anger and he would not allow any of those that had seen him as once a noble king fall to such lows.

Setting out on his own, he searched for clues and perhaps answers. Though he continued to help any in need, he felt less compelled to stay in any one spot for very long. His travels had recently led him to Womptham where he found need of his services by Berren Copperdrake. He was careful to stay silent of his once noble status no matter where he went, but he put extra effort when in the company of nobles.

Tyler got out of bed and began to dress. He started with a pair black cloth pants that were tied at the waist with a string and a plain white shirt went over his torso. He then put on a pair of black cloth and leather shoes that allowed for more mobility as well as silent walking. A beautiful blue with white trim coat was then placed over the rest of his clothing. The coat has upon it the now vestigial symbol of his kingdom and has now become a constant reminder of Tyler's quest. He tied the coat down with a black silk belt he happened upon recently, it was the perfect tool in his quest to garner information. Finally, he slid Wrath between his back and the silk belt and slung Justice over his left shoulder, its tip was tucked into the silk belt.

The crowd outside the inn was visibly worried. Whatever story the messengers brought with them, Tyler knew he would be called to arms. His assumptions where correct. After listening to the full story, he accepted the invitation to the town hall.

[Voshkod]

Cedrick

Cedrick awoke to alarms and excursions outside, the sounds of horses and a mob. Just like the circus, he thought with a smile. He gently eased himself out of bed so as not to awaken . . . Kari? Kara? K . . . something. Whatever her name was, daughter of some local notable, who still lay sleeping. He covered her with the blanket and opened the window of the Inn. The cool night air washed over him, finishing the job of waking him up. Down below, the scouts were yelling about the undead and armies of skeletons.

"I hate the undead. Very unsatisfying to shoot," he muttered. "Ah, well, Cedrick, this is what you signed up for." The idea of marching into a shooting war between the Great Kingdom and Almor was just too good to pass up. Things had quieted down, anyway, on the edge of the Bandit Kingdoms. And when Cedrick got bored, he tended to get in trouble. Better to get in trouble that might make a bit of coin.

He dressed quietly, light chain over the chest, studded leather on the legs, no helmet, arms unencumbered. Over that, a cloak of deep red. A blue wide-brimmed hat with a red feather on his head. His sword on his hip, his bow over his shoulder. He kissed . . . whatever her name was . . . on the cheek (she stirred quietly but remained asleep) and went into the square.

He had just stepped outside when the Earl's man approached him. "Wants to see me, does he? 'Course he does. I might just be able to help him with this little walking dead problem of his. Lead on, good fellow, and I'll follow if there's a promise of a warm drink at the end of the road."

[SwanyUSD]

Jergal

Jergal, furrowing his brow at the latest treatise on alchemy and its uses for the improvement of spell components, hardly notices the knock at his door. The impatient guard, now pounding, finally draws the attention of the studious older man, who rises and softly walks to the door.

Upon it's opening, he sees a serious looking guard who summons him to the audience hall of the Earl.

Bother these impatient types he mutters to himself. I wonder what has him all wound up now...

With his arrival, those in the hall see a very well postured, slightly older man in fine, ruby red robes, black boots that click with his every step, and a deep, neatly trimmed black beard to match his boots. His hair is slightly mottled and receding, and he carries a blackened wooden staff adorned by a blood-red ruby. A polished, platinum ring sparkles on his left hand and a beautiful onyx ring that seems to absorb the very light decorates his right.

Well now, gentlemen, what seems to be the problem, hmmm? Surely we're not getting worked up over a few skeletons, are we?

[kemmotar]

Kara-lar raises one eyebrow at the man that entered clearly annoyed.

When there ladies present sir it is customary to also address them...and I believe if the problem had been a few skeletons alone, then our services would probably not be required. A few skeletons would not have routed a whole army...

[SwanyUSD]

Looking down his hawkish nose, he suddenly bows with a theatrical deepness, Pardon my intrusions, then, fair lady. I was merely fooled by your deadly demeanor. I have been properly rebuffed. Please accept the humblest of apologies from an improper, old Mage.

[kemmotar]

It seems the improper old mage has a taste for sarcastic self deprecation and ironic statements. Aren't you a glowing example of virtue mister....?

[SwanyUSD]

Sighing, the old Mage replies, Again I have rebuffed by the lady in red. Apologies are not enough. My name is Jergal Kelvorn, Archmage and master of the High Tower of Sorcery. I am at your service, and of course, the service of the Earl. And who may you be, lovely lady, hmmm?

[kemmotar]

My name is Kara-lar She says as she slightly bows her head as is the custom of the eastern lands when one introduces himself. As she raises her head once more and with one hand replacing strands of her fiery hair that had been dislodged by the bow.

I am pleased to make your acquaintance master mage. As for me, I am but a mercenary in the service of the those who will pay the fee.

[SwanyUSD]

A dashing mercenary in red, how original! he exclaims, chuckling to himself.

Looking over at the other man with the feathered cap, Jergal pauses, And you good fellow, what might your name be? Surely you are dressed as our mercenary lady is here, perhaps you are of the same ilk, hmmm? Or perhaps you are a noble fop ready to lend a helping hand for his Lord? No, I suspect you are of the sword, or rather, bow-for-hire type. Greetings and salutations and some-such foppery as is required by one of your dress. No offense intended, of course, and none taken I suspect, hmmm?

[kemmotar]

Yes red...and because cliches dictate our life I cannot have red as a favorite color? And if I hope you keep your hands to yourself...which appears to be different to your policy where words are considered.

Oh great...the pompous talking type...if he so much as touches me! Annoyance shows in her hard stare...greetings, salutations and somesuch foppery..no respect for anyone does he...Oh well, who cares...he's a man after all...

She brings her, by now lukewarm, cup to her lips taking a small sip. Mm...delicious...hopefully I'll be out fighting those damn skeletons soon enough...

[SwanyUSD]

Startled at the lady's sudden veracity, Jergal rocks back on his heels a bit. My lady, surely you misunderstand. Why, I too am wearing red, and in a way, I am a mercenary as well. However, my payment is knowledge and tomes of power, not coin as I suspect you have arranged. And despite my youthful appearance, I am too old to be touching a young, fiery woman as yourself, so on that accord, I suspect our relationship will not be unduly sexual in that regard.

With a wistful look in his eye, and a sudden sparkle in his gaze, Jergal stares at nothing in particular and continues, Ahh, to be young again, where the world view centers on the loins and not the mind...

Snapping out of his reverie, he gives a suddenly serious look to Kara-Lar, and in hushed tones, continues,

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In all honesty, fair maiden, I would worry about that one over there, in the foppish hat. I've seen his type before, and before long, he'll have you under his spell. Enchanting he may be, but it's your heart he'll tear after your loins he will bear, if you catch my rhyme, hmmm?

[Voshkod]

Cedrick

Cedrick bows deeply to the older man, removing his hat, revealing a quite handsome face, dark black hair and deep blue eyes, face tanned from travel and framed by a trimmed beard and mustache. "You've found me out with but a quick eye and a few words, learned sage. I am both mercenary and fop, and I give you such greetings and salutations as you may expect from one such as me. My name is Cedrick, elder wise one, and I have come here from the edges of the Bandit Kingdom for a bit of adventure."

He spins on his heel and bows again to the lady. "And I greet you, fair one, though by the tone of your voice and set of your face I doubt you wish any greetings, so I shall leave it at that, except perhaps to ask where you obtained your tea?"

[kemmotar]

Kara-lar's eyes soften as she realizes her rudeness.

I apologize if my manner seems...inappropriate. I was planning to stay in bed. Mind you, an actual bed after this long is something to look forward to. Of course my sojourn in the realm of dreams was cut short...

She then turns to Cedrick, playful green eyes complemented perfectly by a beautiful half smile, almost catlike.

As for the tea, the innkeeper is quick with the tea...i just...brought it with me as I left. Oh and in case master mage is correct in his assumptions about your qualities concerning women, short of an actual spell I shall be neither enchanted nor seduced...many a man have lost hands and other more important body parts due to their overconfidence.

My...loins...are well protected. Thank you for the concern master mage and apologies to both of you for my unwarranted behaviour.

With those last words, she takes a small and practiced only slightly theatrical yet honest bow. One hand close to her body while the other grabs the fabric of her dress midway down the length of her leg lifting it on one side as she bows. As she lowers her body on bent knees her eyes close and she lowers her head a bit and then straightens again with practiced ease. A playful, almost childish smile rests on her face...it seems almost impossible that she is a mercenary, much less an accomplished one. The innocent never last in battlefield.

[Voshkod]

Cedrick

Cedrick's eyes darken slightly. "Madam, you wound me far deeper with your belief that I may be a lech and a cad then this sage did with his characterization of me as a fop. You both presume much about me, given that we have not met before. But such is the way of things in these troubling times, I suppose." He sighs, somewhat theatrically. "War does breed such crassness."

[kemmotar]

You misunderstand me. I was in fact not referring to you at all. She says with a smile.

Though I have had to defend my honor many times before, the men who would...attempt that know neither my reputation nor do they have any social graces to speak of. You on the other hand, do not look the type who would resort to force or inappropriate gestures. Am I correct in such an assumption?

[Voshkod]

Cedrick

"Forgive me, then, madam, for hearing what was not said. You may rest assured that, should we become traveling companions, your virtue will not be assailed by me." A bow, a slight smile. "Unless you would so wish it, of course."

[kemmotar]

If that is so, it can be a pleasant trip disregarding the occasional murdering and plundering. And you need not worry, I will not wish it.

She makes a small bow in the direction of Cedrick and takes a small sip of her tea, which by now is close to depletion.

[SwanyUSD]

Chuckling to himself over the exchange, Jergal bemusedly declares, Well met, Cedrick. I must know, what talents have you brought to bear against our skeletal, fearsome foes, hmmm? I am a practitioner of the Art. The lady here hopefully cuts her enemies with that sword as fearsomely as she cuts with her words. You, however, I cannot guess. A fine shot with the bow? A excellent duelist with your blade? Or perhaps you have some secret powers to bear, hmmm? What is then, young rake?

[Voshkod]

Cedrick

"Well, I fear my talents are likely limited when compared to the might of the mystic arts or a fearsome swordswoman. I am but a humble archer of some talent."

[SwanyUSD]

Jergal

Hmmm, the humble type now, eh? Just as well, I suppose. I wonder where the Earl is, we were precisely on time. Bother that he would make us wait, hmmm?

Jergal impatiently taps his foot and crosses his arms, waiting for the Earl of Womptham.

Where is that wily codger?

OOC: I am going to use quote boxes now for speech, and italics for thought.

[Othello]

OOC: Sorry for the Delay, I'm waiting for Sam Miller to post. If not by the end of tomorrow I'll move on.

[Feirgon]

Tyler Kensington

As Tyler walked into the town hall, he noticed that others had arrived before him. Despite the alarming nature of the news, he had walked at a medium pace to the hall. He disliked to rush anything.

Looking around, he spotted a few groups of individuals discussing the events and the news. Most of these conversations were inaudible, except for the closest. He smiled as he caught a few snippets of this conversation.

Perhaps he is still gathering information. Tyler spoke, filling the silence after Jergal's question. After all, I would prefer not to be sent blindly into combat. The smile on his face faded ever so slightly as he spoke this last line.

And greetings to you all. Placing his right hand over his chest, he bowed slightly to the small group. His short black hair reacted by swaying slightly past his brown eyes. He kept his eyes open and looking forward when he bowed; a throwback to his troubled childhood. My name is Tyler Kensington.