Dreams of the Blinded

[Pwenet]

Dreams of the Blinded

For the first time in written history there was peace in the lands of Nifal-Vahen.

The starts of the great wars were lost in the dust that used to be ancient texts. The great continents of Rentiserep and Tacigacal were nearly torn apart from the various nations unleashing unthinkable magical attacks against each other. Fawrerdo was cut off from the rest of the world as great storms rose around it and the nations within blamed the others for what had happened. Ramehica and Mosnotro managed to unify and hold their own while the continent of Caluso was left alone.

It was thus Caluso the island continent that became host to the first unified world government. In the city of Pacapri one of the final stages of global unification has begun, the marriage of Princess Kitiny of the kingdom of Pulento to Lord Velin from the Republic of Calitat.

Yet despite the near-public support for the unification and the end to the countless centuries of warfare there are forces at work. Forces that do not want to see peace, do not want unification, do not want the blinded to SEE

Interlude

Sitting in her chair Princess Kitiny watched as her various servants worked on her hair and makeup. Despite the fact that this was her wedding day the mood was somber for they all knew that this was a marriage of politics and not of love. Of course there would be smiling and tears of joy at the wedding along with many children a few years later, however for now they do not maintain the illusion for the masses.

Standing off to the side was her Lady-In-Waiting, Elizabeth. Elizabeth was going through a checklist as she marked off items on her crystal stone.

”And the Lady Agate sends works ahead that her gift will be one of her finest slaves who has saved her life.”

Princess Kitiny forced herself not to shake her head as she heard those words, for her culture hated slavers. Yet the foundation of this great peace initiative mandated that individual nations would be able to practice their own beliefs, no matter how insulting they were to others.

”Probably a calculated insult, I cannot refuse the gift without insulting her yet by accepting it I show to others that I suppose slavery passively. Once she is my “property” we can make a public ceremony of freeing her and making her a citizen. That is allowed in the bylaws is it not?”

”Technically yes but it will be viewed as an insult to them.”

”This is my wedding day Elizabeth, I’m allowed to do something to make me happy and if they have a problem with that, they should have given me another gift. Finally besides citizenship we should offer her a job, but if she does not want it we can let her build a new life.”

”Yes my lady. Now regarding the ceremony itself we need to arrive at the Pegasus gate in the next hour in order to time it right.”

”This is foolish if you ask me, having me show up through the gate in my wedding dress.”

A few of the servents chuckled at the comment and even Elizabeth smiled slightly.

”It was arranged by all the major powers and a symbol of the newfound peace to have you walk through a gate as all of them are linked once again. Plus that gate is right in front of the church.”

”Right in front with a half-mile walk to the doors. How many people are there?”

”At last count nearby a hundred thousand will be outside the church, and other five thousand dignitaries inside. They are going through the Pegasus gate now to take their seats.

”It is going to be a zoo. Tea please Milina.”

Taking the cup of tea from the servant Kitiny looked down into it and her face paled. Her eyes glazed over and the servants took over. They had seen this before when she had a vision and gentle hands held her in place on the chair, keeping her from falling over.

Wandering through streets Kitiny watched the bodies of the dead. Bodies horribly burnt, others would deep open wounds that dripped the precious blood of life. Various birds and rodents were moving about the bodies, eating their fill from them as dark clouds overhead hid the sun from view.

Standing among the bodies was a man, disheveled and dirty, one arm a torn off stump, the other holding a sign saying the The End is Nigh. He stumbled and waver his eyes bloodshot and lost to insanity and walked through her. The horror of seeing events but not being a part of them was long lost on her and she continued to glide through the streets of the town.

The view around her wavered making it nearly impossible to see what town or city she was in and so she wandered. The bodies were apparently from far too many civilians with several soldiers mixed in as well. The unreal environment distorted the sound making it hard to hear anything. Kneeling besides the bodies she looked at them and saw that many of them were dressed formally.

Through the fog of white noise there was a sudden noise.

DONG

Looking up she focused on a distant object.

Blinking she found herself standing in front of a church. Looking around she saw more bodies. Focusing of them she noticed that they were in a similar state of disarray. Looking around and she the gate and then she saw, she saw……

Hundreds of possibilities ran through her mind as she stared at a statue before the gate. What happened, what could happen, what could be, what must NOT be…..

Gasping Kitiny snapped out of her vision, held gently by the hands of her servants. Coughing she looked at them and smiled weakly.

”Are you okay my lady?”

Nodding Kitiny smiled as Elizabeth pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed it under one of her eyes.

”Now my lady, save those for the vows, that will make everyone happy. What did you see?”

”I saw, I saw, I saw something that must not happen. Elizabeth, I need you to take notes for me.”

As she started telling Elizabeth what to do Kitiny flashed back to the final image.

A simple memorial status of a woman in a wedding dress.

[Pwenet]

Dramatic Persona – Part 1

• Ambon - Arjun Takei
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  Background: Arjun is the third son of the third wife of an influental Orlu nobleman, the Lord Shinji Takei. His mother, the Lady Kesang, is from an equally influential Mawartha family of the Right-Handed Caste. Their marriage was one of political convenience, allying the two households together, but was not without affection. As an unimportant son of two important families, Arjun was raised with all the opportunities of privilege and all the freedom of parental neglect. Until his coming of age he was trained in the basics of his family's business as a Lawyer-Priest, and educated by his mother and his uncle (from his father's side) in both Olru and Mawartha law/religion. Though expected to either continue his training and graduate as a Lawyer-Priest, or enter the bureaucracy as a minor functionary, Arjun called on his father to give him his share of his inheritance and give him a reprieve from family responsibility. Surprised by a request from a son he had long ignored, his father assented and allowed him his share which was barely enough to enroll him in the Kingdom's College of Sciences. There he was trained, and then was employed, as a cartographer and explorer for the Bureaucracy where he disappeared for several years in the Ailbur hills among the natives of Haltershire, where he secretly befriended Albertion and became a master Orator.
  He returned at the end of his tour quite suddenly. By then the College had was about to consider him lost in duty. Instead, he returned with a full map of much of the western wilderness and published numerous treatises on magic and nature. Soon he was promoted to minor position in an important province, Master of the Barbarians in the Western Urban Province. There, he succeeded in as a negotiator, giving him a reputation as a diplomat. By the time he was recalled by his father to serve in the family, he was an accomplished negotiator and an adept in the lawyer-priesthood.
  Now a young man he was selected by the Bureaucracy as part of the 174 person diplomatic company sent to observe the union of Calitat and Pulento, and to represent both the interests of the Binary Monarchy and his family.
  
  Family: Father Lord Shinji Takei, Judge-Bishop of the Olru Council
  Mother Lady Kesang Desai, Priestess of the Merciful Aspect of Sardar
  Eldest brother Master Ozu Takei, Minister of Contracts
  Second oldest brother, Inaba Takei, Hybrid Warrior candidate
  
  Personality: A quiet and passionate man, Arjun is most immediately noticed for his calm and patience. As an accomplished negotatior, he has a reputation for being uncorruptable and forgiving. Despite this, those who know him better know that Arjun is a opinionated and passionate man, at once eager to serve and deeply distressed by the Bureaucracy that employs him. Deeply conflicted, especially regarding the status of the Albertion, his calm political exterior is, on occasion, broken by bursts of righteous anger directed at those he percieves to be unjust.
  
  Appearance: Dressed most often in his garb as an official, Arjun's appearance is often unassuming. He dresses humbly, appropriate for a man of his position. Of slightly less than average height (though it's not quite noticeable), he is dark skinned and, though physically fit, does not appear to be very strong.
  
  Skills: Arjun has moderate training in the magic of the Lawyer-Priesthood. In addition, as a son of a noble house he has basic training in swordplay for dueling and is handy with the katana and the bow. His greatest skill, outside of his diplomatic and geographic experience, is his mastery of the Albertion magic of Oration, though he keeps this and his sympathy with the Albertion a secret.
  
  
• Dorizzit - Ark Tamayus
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  Race: Human (Ungifted)
  Age: 726 Years
  Skills:
  Combat: Ark is an extremely competent warrior. Almost always, he fights with his fists. He has never received a formal education in fisticuffs, but is extremely experienced, having practiced this style for centuries. However, if something ever causes him to draw his blade, his skill is easily multiplied a hundred or even thousand fold. Ark is potentially the greatest blademaster to ever walk the face of the earth, and he has been walking it for quite some time. Ark has not used his sword since the day he sheathed it, but if he thinks he is in trouble, than he'll try to steal an opponent's weapon so it's easier for him to disarm or disable his foes.
  Trades: Ark has picked up knowledge of quite a few different skill sets. He can track, cook, read, hunt, smith, or do just about any commonly taught trade with varying levels of skill. He is also a very centered person, knowing himself very well and as such very good at reading other people.
  Languages: Ark is a virtual Polyglot, knowing a passable amount of almost every language commonly spoken.
  
  Immortality: Ark does not need to eat or breathe, but doing either is very unhealthy for him and if he can't breath for more than an hour, he passes into a deathlike state of suspended animation until he can get air again. Ark does not age past his current 35 years. Ark is immune to disease, but this does not protect him from magical affects that simulate disease. Ark has no resistance to wounds, and his body is crossed by a network of scars.
  
  Sword: Ark's sword, Conviction, deserves special mention. It is an immensely powerful artifact: it is extremely sharp, and effectively unbreakable. But what makes it unique is that it is powered by a person's conviction and skill. In the hands of a confident blade master like Ark, it could potentially cut through just about anything, up to and including magic barriers, although it can almost never break an enemy's weapon (a unique aspect of it's enchantments). The exception to this is an artifact of power approaching or surpassing that of Conviction. Conviction doesn't look like much while sheathed; the hilt is a worn leather grip over a simple steel cross guard and pommel. But the mithral blade shines like the purest silver, and there is no doubt in anyone seeing the unsheathed blade that it is a powerful sword.
  
  Background Ark was born centuries ago, into the kingdom of Tacigacal. Despite this, this was still long after the causes of the great war had been lost to the mists of time. Ark was born into an aristocratic family that was ancient and powerful. As he grew up, he was trained in all the things a young noble would need to know: reading, writing, history, maths, protocol, and so forth. But what really interested Ark, and what he had special talent for, was the blade. His practice with the family swordmaster was his favorite part of the day, and he quickly became a skilled swordsman. Ark had a privileged life, and he was happy. This did not last.
  Ark's house was old, and had made many political enemies. When Ark was eighteen, several of these houses allied with the purpose of destroying their mutual enemy. Ark was out at the time. The battle was swift, brutal, and decisive. Ark returned to find a ruin and a bonfire when he returned to his house. Terrified that he, too, would be killed, he fled, and decided his best hope for escape was to get out of his enemy's reach. Ark joined the military, hoping to get assigned somewhere far from the capital. He was obliged to be put on the front lines of the great war...until he got to the front lines of the great war. He came to regret his decision, but it was too late, and so he threw himself into his new duties.
  Ark took his talent at swordsmanship and discovered a great ability to command and lead. He quickly distinguished himself, becoming a Sergeant within six months of deployment. He then rose quickly through the ranks, becoming a lieutenant within two years, and then a captain in another three. By the time he was twenty five, Ark was general. Finally, at twenty eight, Ark had become a grand marshal. Ark's military career was decorated and filled with great victories, and he became a legend amongst his people and his enemies.
  However, the high point of Ark's career was his appointment as Guardian Lord, the personal bodyguard to the king. He became one of the most successful, protecting his king for four years without either of them dying. Finally, however, even the great Ark failed. An assassin managed to pierce the wards blocking the throne room, invisibly approaching the king and impaling him before anyone knew he was there. Ark pursued the assailant out of the court. Their mobile duel is the stuff of legend. They ranged around the city, evenly matched. The assassin had one advantage, however: an ancient blade seemingly made out of terracotta, said to have been forged by a god. Eventually, Ark and the assassin left the city. At the height of their battle, Ark locked swords with his opponent, and in a supreme act of will, he sheared his opponent's blade off at the hilt.
  The destruction of such a powerful artifact created an immensely powerful backlash. Of the Assassin there was no sign, and by the time the soldiers got to the sight of the explosion, there was only a massive crater. Both combatants were assumed dead. The truth was that Ark was thrown by the explosion, and fundamentally altered by both it and the battle. When he had killed his opponent, Ark had found something disturbing to him: he had liked it. He had wanted his opponent to die. Ark was shaken by this, and sheathed his sword, swearing that he would never again draw it unless the cause was truly just. He then fled, deciding that he would live out the rest of his days in contemplation. However, he then discovered a cruel irony: he waited years, and after fifty he had changed not at all. He was immortal. He decided to shoulder the burden, and began to wander, working as a mercenary for just causes when he needed money and helping people when he was needed (or learning trades when he was bored). He watched in amusement as his name went down in the history books and he became a legend. He now watches the uniting of the world with satisfaction and happiness, glad that unification is beginning.
  
  Equipment: Ark dresses like the knights of his people, an order long since changed passed recognition. He wears no armor past a series of small, overlapping leather breastplates (somewhat enchanted). He wears a long black cloak enchanted to keep him at a comfortable temperature and to keep the elements out. It also has numerous magical pockets where Ark keeps his stuff. His boots are tough and simple, and magically increase his speed. Conviction is strapped to his back, its hilt peaking out from under the cloak. Ark also has an assorted variety of various knick knacks and gewgaws he has collected over the years, some magical, most mementos of his past adventures.
  
  Speech Color: Blue
  
  
• Inspectre - Galen Sar-Terechou
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  Age: 38
  Race: Human
  Appearance:
  Clad from head-to-toe in well-made plate mail, Galen is an unusual sight at social functions. He never takes the armor off, and even his eyes are hidden behind lenses. However, it is said that he was once a handsome man, with a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, short-cropped brown hair, and piercing blue eyes.
  
  Skills:
  

  • Fencing – Galen has some skill with a sword, although much of his training has involved one-on-one duels rather than the chaos of a battlefield.
  • Armor – The plate mail that Galen wears has been subjected to several enchantments. These enchantments include:
    
    • Durability – Like most magical armors, Galen’s plate mail is harder to pierce with a weapon, and gives him slight resistance to the flashier, more destructive aspects of magic.
    • Polished – Galen’s armor is resistant to getting dirty thanks to a minor cleaning glamer that ensures his armor always appears well-polished.
    • No Hunger/Thirst - As removal of his armor - even lifting his faceplate - could prove dangerous to his health by disrupting the efficiency of his armor in healing him, an additional endurance enhancement was placed upon it. Galen no longer needs food or drink, although he still requires sleep.
    • No Pain – As a feature of his armor’s regenerative capabilities, Galen is incapable of feeling physical pain.
    • Regeneration – Although his armor can’t repair itself, it can repair Galen, knitting torn flesh back together and healing most minor injuries in the span of a few minutes. It is unsure whether the armor’s regeneration would enable him to restore a lost limb, and Galen doesn’t particularly want to test it.
  • Lenses – The lenses covering Galen’s eyes allow him expanded sight beyond normal vision. These enhancements to his sight include:
    
    • Nightvision – Galen can see reasonably well in darkness, although he can only make out fine detail within twenty feet or so.
    • Longvision – The lenses can zoom in on a distant object, although this often has a very disorienting effect on him.
  • Diplomacy – Galen is a skilled diplomat and negotiator, and has played a not inconsiderable role in bringing about the current peace. He also isn’t above trickery and outright manipulation to accomplish his goals, either.
  • Wealth – Acting as mediator between formerly feuding kingdoms has its price, but there are also rewards to be made as well. Galen has acquired a small fortune for his efforts, which he has been using to expand his influence beyond Ramehica.
  • Nobility – Although he claims to be merely a citizen of Ramehica, Galen is a minor noble from the small kingdom of Shilbult. Naturally, his nobility can sometimes get him into places that would otherwise be closed to him.

  
  
  Background:
  
  Galen hails from the continent of Ramehica, one of the first continents to unify. It is said that he played an important role in uniting the nations of that continent together. He would roam from kingdom to kingdom, constantly expounding on the virtues of allying with former enemies and offering to serve as a mediator between formerly feuding rulers.
  
  At first his arguments for unification were for all people of Ramehica to stand united against invaders from the other continents. Since unification has spread to the other continents and the world stands ready to be united under a world government, Galen has moderated his stance somewhat. He still, however, firmly intends on promoting Ramehican values and goals above those of the other continents.
  
  As a minor noble within an inconsequential kingdom that frequently served as a battlefield for its two much larger neighbors, Galen quickly learned of the horrors of war. Rather than settle for making arrogant boasts about one day throwing both foreign invaders from his lands, Galen focused on trying to convince both sides that peace would be better for all involved, including the people who actually owned the land they were fighting on. Ultimately, he was successful, and that was where he got the idea to unify Ramehica under a banner of mutual cooperation.
  
  Sadly, as he began to move on to other nearby countries to expand his efforts across the continent, tragedy struck. One of the sides in the war Galen was currently working on didn’t want the war to end. And so an assassin was hired to deal with this charismatic peace-monger.
  
  One day while going to a conference between the warring nations a man leaped out of the crowd and jammed a poisoned dagger into Galen’s chest. Although the assassin was later caught and executed, the damage was already done. The local clerics were able to mend the wound to his body, but the poison raged on. It was a rare and difficult concoction made from Bloodrot and Nightkiss, and resisted all attempts to purge it from Galen’s body. In the end, the healers despaired for it seemed sure that Galen would die.
  
  It was then, however, that a group of local wizards came forward with a possible solution. They had been working on a suit of armor for their liege’s troops that would enable them to recover from horrifying wounds and survive to fight another day. With any luck, the armor would also be able to restore Galen from the toxin’s effects even if it would not cure his condition.
  
  Despite to continue his message of unification, Galen agreed, and was sealed inside the armor. Since then he has remained in the armor, unable to take it off lest he suffer a relapse from the poison. It is a small comfort that the armor was also designed to remove the wearer’s capacity to feel pain, so that he does not have to feel the ravages of the poison reoccurring as quickly as the armor is able to repair the damage.
  
  Today Galen continues serving as a representative of Ramehica, attending the wedding as one of the few delegates sent from that continent.
  
  
• Lonna - Lily Deliack
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  Age: 24
  Race: Human (Gifted)
  Speech Color: Dark Slate Blue
  Background:
  Born to mid-level servants in the royal household, Lily never expected to reach any higher status than her parents. From a very young age she acted as a messenger and go-between for servants in different parts of the castle. When she turned ten, the head waiter, with her parent's blessing, began training her to deliver food and drink and generally wait on nobles both in the formal dining hall and in their private quarters. Lily herself was perfectly content with this position, happy to see the nobles in all their finery without being required to speak to them beyond answering simple requests.
  Over time Lily became very skilled in the intricacies of her position and was trusted with waiting on more and more exalted personages. Finally, when she was sixteen, Lily was asked to carry a late night snack to her Majesty the Queen, whose regular attendant was ill. Just after leaving the room, Lily realized that in her nervousness over serving royalty she had left the rough wooden tray carrier in the royal chambers. Embarrassed, sure she would be scolded for the mistake, she returned just in time to scream a warning as a masked figure emerged from behind a tapestry and flung a knife at her Majesty. Startled by Lily's scream, the Queen jumped sideways, causing the knife that would have likely have punctured a lung to merely slice through the muscle in her upper arm. Even as she fell, however, the assassin was hurling another knife, and this time even Lily could see there would be no way for her Majesty to dodge. Automatically, she raced forward to protect her monarch, knowing there was nothing she could do.
  Later, Lily would say that as she ran it felt like something inside her came unknotted, but at the time she didn't think. She simply flung up her hands as if instinctively trying to catch the knife from across the room. To the great surprise of all three people, the flying dagger stopped as abruptly as if it had struck a wall, falling well short of it's intended target. The element of surprise gone and his attacks stopped by some unknown power, the assassin attempted to escape through a window, where he was quickly apprehended by guards. In the meantime, Lily had reached the Queen and without thinking reached for the wound to try and stop the bleeding.
  The moment her hand touched the wound, Lily felt a flash of firey pain and a trickle of something warm and wet on her own arm. Within moments, however, the pain faded and the trickle ceased. Later comparisons proved that while only the Queen's clothing was torn, both women had fresh blood and what looked like an old knife scar in exactly the same place on their right arms.
  Instantly the Queen realized the value of Lily's newly awakened Gift and ordered the details of the incident covered up. Lily was "promoted" to Lady in Waiting for her "heroic detection of a would-be assassin." In addition to her new duties, she was also secretly forced to train her Gift and learn the skills of a bodyguard. Lily did not want the position, but had no choice but to accept it. In a nation where the Gifted population was almost entirely enslaved, Lily would lose what little control she retained over her own life if she gave her Majesty any reason to reveal Lily's Gift.
  Now, eight years later, she has, of necessity, grown used to her guilded cage and her new status. She did not even blink when, just a few days before the delegation was to leave for the wedding, her Majesty the Queen announced before the whole court that Lily would be given as a wedding gift to the new bride. Indeed, no one in the entire court was surprised by the move, for rumors had abounded for years that her Majesty's favorite Lady was Gifted, though the exact nature of her Gift was a matter the Queen did not address. And so Lily found herself bundled off, any hope of returning home long gone.
  
  Appearance and Personality:
  With shoulder-length light brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and deep brown eyes, Lily is nothing extraordinary to look at. She is of average height and weight, and if she is more fit than most women of her station, it is difficult to tell beneath the expert cut of her dresses. She is known to prefer pale blues and lavenders during the warmer months and deep blues and nearly black colors during the cooler ones. Indeed, the only thing noteworthy about her is her unusually graceful movements and her habit of wearing outfits that cover as much of her skin as possible as loosely as fashion allows, regardless of the season.
  Lily has a reputation for being extremely somber. Those who knew her before she was elevated to Lady in Waiting say that this is a dramatic change from the cheerful young lady she used to be, and lament the seriousness which has hidden her dimpled smile and rosy cheeks. Those few who have seen her bare skin up close are often shocked by the web of faint scars that covers much of her arms, torso, and legs. Fortunately, very few of these extend to her hands, neck, or any of the other areas she was occasionally forced to display.
  
  Possessions:
  Though the vast majority of Lily's possessions are technically just loans from their Majesties, Lily does have a few items she considers purely her own:
  

  • Two long knives (hidden under sleeves or long gloves when outfit allows)
  • Short sword (strapped to right leg)
  • Throwing knife (inside left boot)
  • A plain silver pinky ring (gift from her mother, worn on the left hand)

  
  Skills:
  

  • Socially adept - Lily can dance, mingle, converse without giving offence, and on occassion socially entertain members of the nobility or royalty.
  • Weapons proficiency - Lily is skilled with all of her personal weapons, plus the crossbow. She is also passingly familiar with the rapier, longbow, and hand to hand combat.
  • Wall of Air - Using her Gift, Lily is capable of solidifying the air itself. The more complex the shape she is trying to create, or the larger the volume of air she is trying to affect, the more difficult it is and the more she must concentrate to maintain it. She has yet to find any way to move her solidified air, and it becomes fluid again the moment her concentration is broken. For example, a small, sloppy block of air like would be needed to stop a dagger requires only a second to create and very little effort to maintain. A dome of solid air, such as might be used to ward off arrows, would take at least ten seconds to create (more for a dome that would cover more than one person) and would require some effort to maintain.
  • Healing - Lily's healing Gift is unique in that she literally takes another's wounds upon her own body, which then performs an accellerated healing. She cannot heal anything which leaves no visible marks (such as poison and disease), but everything from bruises to near-fatal battle wounds have been successfully healed, leaving nothing but a faint scarring at most on the recipient of the healing. Lily herself has more normal looking scars, and feels the pain of each injury she heals. No one is sure what would happen if she tried to heal someone with a fatal injury, and though Lily occasionally considers attempting suicide this way, she has never followed through on her thoughts.
  
  
• mf11 - Ghelach Dhuulkhaar
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  Age: 197
  Race: Goblin (Gifted)
  Skills:
  fighting: skilled with spear and shield, Ghelach has trained in them for his entire life. He is also decent with daggers and other thrown weapons. He is relatively inept with most other forms of attack though.
  
  magic: Ghelach has three types of magic that he is able to use. The first is passive. Ghelach is gifted with an exceptional lifespan. While he does grow older, He has already lived nearly 10 times the typical lifespan of his race, and is still in his prime, though the latter half of it. Ghelach is also skilled in fire magic, both the control of and summoning of it. Finally, Ghelach has limited foresight, occasionally getting small glimpses of the future, though usually something very brief, and usually something that doesn't help or he is unable to realize what is happening in.
  
  Description: Ghelach is tall for his race, standing almost four and a half feet tall. the top of his head is bald, though his ears carry more than enough wispy white hair for them and his head combined. His body appears frail, though it hides the true muscle he has. He is usually dressed in a Duuluul, the traditional toga-like robe of his people, bright red in color, with a black belt. on his feet are short boots. He carries a spear and shield in his hands, and a rhakuul'der, or knife bandolier, goes across his chest from right shoulder to left hip, filled with 7 knifes. A pouch on his belt contains 8 gold pieces, 24 silvers, and 13 coppers.
  
  Bio:
  Backstory: Ghelach was born in a small band of goblins on the content of Rentiserep. His tribe were nomads, like most goblins, and, also like most goblins, were highly superstitious. When Ghelach appeared to not age, he was considered to be a sign from Dhuugaan, their god. Due to this, he was trained in the art of fighting with spear and shield, as Dhuugaan does. Many years passed, and Ghelach slowly aged.
  When he was 40, twice the normal life of a goblin, he developed his other powers as he hit puberty. Fire began to act odd when he came near, and soon it responded to his will. He also began seeing visions, of the hunters having a big kill, or of a fork in the road they were traveling on. Each one happened exactly as he saw within twenty-four hours of his seeing it. These powers only strengthened his tribes belief that he was sent from Dhuugaan.
  Too soon however, life changed. The war broke out, and Ghelach's peaceful tribe was swept into it. An army came through the plains his tribe roamed, and apparently found them to be unwanted. They were attacked, and the tribe, knowing it could not stand, scattered. Ghelach went south, Towards the nearest city he knew.
  Ghelach spent the rest of the war roaming the world. Occasionally he would latch on, or be drafted into, an army, where his skill in magic and with his spear kept him alive. But he always moved on in time. !3 years ago, when the war ended, Ghelach found the peacefulness odd. Having spent nearly all your life at war, it is odd to be able to walk from city to city without having to watch for patrols. He took up traveling, going back to all the places he had run through earlier in his life.
  
  Personality: Ghelach, while not trying to, tends to have somewhat of a "been there, done that" attitude due to his large amounts of traveling. He doesn't talk much, since he knows what he knows, and it would be better for him to learn what others know. He still remembers the claims that he is a chosen of Dhuugaan, and sometimes, he even believes it, causing himself to become slightly arrogant and even commanding. In a fight he is rather level headed, drawing on years of experience rather than anger. He tends to not get attached to many things, since when you have a life as long as his, you wind up seeing everything you care about die.
  
  Speech Color: Dark Green
  
  
• Omnik - Vann Diago - Killed During the Bloody Wedding
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  Age: 40
  Race: Halfling (Gifted)
  
  Appearance: Vann is significantly taller than the average halfling, being about 3 feet and 8 inches. He is shaped like an athlete, all muscles and no extra fat. He has a round face, hazel eyes and dark braided hair and sports short sideburns. He has a scar on his left cheek.
  He favors fine clothing of red or orange color. He usually wears studded leather armor over flowing pants and shirt, shoulder pads, black gloves and lowcut boots, a large belt, a stylish hat with buckle and a cape.
  He carries a side-sword of extraordinary workmanship, with a heavily decorated pummel and a blade made of an unknown black metal, which belonged to his uncle until his death 8 years ago. He is also known to use a buckler and sometimes a light crossbow in battle.
  
  Skills: Vann studied a fighting style that blends fencing and magic. He isn't too bad at shooting either. While he knows some destructive spells for use in emergency situations, the halfling favors transmutation. He's also becoming an expert weaponsmith, able to imbue metal and wood with eldritch energy.
  
  Background: Vann was born in the ancient House Diago which has a special place in the history of Calitat. The halflings of House Diago have been some of the greatest supporters of the Republic since its beginnings. They were mainly diplomats and administrators. Like his brothers and cousins, Vann studied law, litterature and finance. However, he never really got the hang of it. He had always prefered swordplay. One time, he convinced his parents to let him participate in a tournament to prove his worth. They were quite surprised by the skill of their son. As a result, they turned to the boy's uncle for his education. Sami Diago was a well-respected member of the republican guard and a war veteran. He gave his nephew private lessons for several years. Unfortunately, the old warrior passed away before he could complete its training. Vann received his uncle's sword after his death. He swore to honor the memory of the proud Sami Diago by serving the Republic.
  
  Some years later, Vann's gift manifested for the first time. The magic in his blood allowed him to cast minor spells, not much. However, he heard of a group that combined swordplay and sorcery in one style. He seeked them out and lived with them to learn their art. Back home, he joined the republican guard like his uncle before him. He was assigned to protect important people, often other members of House Diago on diplomatic missions. More recently, Vann took a more active part in the war. He was eventually promoted captain and lead troops into battle, but soon resigned from his position. On the battelfield, he only saw horror. There was nothing romantic about this meaningless war. Then the last countries involved agreed to a truce and Vann was relieved. He accepted to escort a halfling senator to Pacapri in order to witness a historical event, the marriage of Princess Kitiny to Lord Velin.
  
  Possessions:
  - Sami's side sword
  - Signet ring (House Diago)
  - A brooch that can absorb some spells (a better brooch of shielding in a sense)
  - A few scrolls
  - A horn which is said to fill anyone who hears it with newfound courage
  
  Speech color: Red
  
  
• Silverkiss - Julius "Dragonblood" Renfield
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  Race: Human (Gifted, sorta)
  Age: 28
  Speech Color: Grey
  Appearance: Julius is taller than most men, standing at 6 feet and 6 inches. He has a strong and muscled body, clearly the body of a warrior, with many scars, especially in his arms. Julius' eyes are strangely colored silver, shining like two moons on a starless night, and his wild hair is black. Uncut for years now, it almost reaches his waist. Julius always wears a necklace made of gold and silver in the shape of a water drop, a present from his sister.
  Julius always wears a mithril chain mail under his vests, ready for any danger that might appear. He learned to be cautious after facing many near-death situations. Over his mail, Julius likes to wear simple clothing, mainly in dark tones of green, brown or grey. He has a black cloak, given to him by his father, that he almost always use. The cloak is complete with a hood, and has many internal pockets, ideal for hiding things and for stealth. The cloak is impermeable in relation to water, and has a unique spell cast into it, that it always mends itself if damaged. It is otherwise a normal cloak and offers no protection or anything unusual.
  Strapped to his belt, Julius always carries a katana, another memento from his father. The katana is beautifuly crafted, with the head of a golden dragon in it's hilt, two diamonds on it's eyes. The blade is made of adamantine, it's surface a perfect mirror, a marvelous weapon that will never lose it's sharpness. The katana's sheat is made of a black oak wood, strong and well polished, with a pattern painted in golden ink.
  
  Possessions:
  - Adamantine Katana
  - Black cloak (impermeable, self-repairing)
  - Water Drop Necklace (sister's memento)
  - Mithril Chain Mail
  - Casual grey clothings
  - Belt pouch with some coins
  
  Skills: Julius is a born warrior, and always excelled at the martial arts. He has basic knowledge in the use of most weapons, but he is a master of the katana and of unarmed combat. He rarely uses his sword, because he is strongly against taking someone's life, but his fists and feet are usually enough to deal with most common enemies.
  Julius also has a strange, magical power. He is not able to cast spells or spring forth destructive power from his fingers, but his blood is naturally magical. Some say that this is because one of his ancestors was a dragon, and for that he is called "Dragonblood", but the real reason is unknown, even to Julius himself. What is important is that when his blood is triggered, a change occurs in Julius' body. His hair turns white, and his eyes turn golden; but the change is not only on appearance. He becomes stronger and faster, and he develops a resistance to magic and a fast healing rate, almost close to regeneration. Usually the blood activates on it's own, on times of mortal danger or great anger, but lately Julius has begun to train so he can control this power.
  Julius also knows how to discern and locate magical effects, partly because of his natural affinity, partly because of his studies in all matters, including magic. His studies also give Julius a wide array of knowledge and understanding of many different subjects.
  
  Background: Julius was born into a family of retainers to the ruling family of the Kingdom of Pulento, in the continent of Caluso. Despite being servants, the Renfield family was a wealthy one, composed by mighy warriors, noble masters of many martial arts. Because of this, Julius grew since an young age learning the ways of combat from the best.
  Julius lived with his whole family on a big house near the Royal Castle. The family was always ready to answer to the rulers' callings and obey their commands. Being masters of many arts and techniques, the family was always tasked with the most dangerous and important missions, and it was hard for the whole family to gather together at home. Because of this, Julius grew detatched from his parents and other family members, as he had almost no contact with them, safe for the combat lessons. The only two parents Julius was close with were his sister, Anya, two years younger than himself, and his father. His father, although constantly busy, always found time to spend with Julius, even if just a few minutes between missions. As for his sister, when they weren't training, they always played together, usually exploring the city, because the house was always busy with people training or taking lessons, even not family members. Teaching martial arts was a way for the family to get a good deal of money, because of the ammount of masters it had. The money was usually spent on equipment of the best possible quality, or stored away safely.
  Julius life continued mostly without incidents. Sure, parents died sometimes, but Julius didn't mour them for long, so detatched as he was. However, this would soon change. On Julius' 15th birthday, his father aproached him, and told him how he was becoming a man and would soon continue with the family's tradition and serve the royal family. Julius and his father talked for hours, something that never had happened before, while they watched the stars. After the conversation, Julius' father gave him his favorite cloak and sword, as a birthday present. Then, he went off on a mission and never returned.
  At first, Julius thought that his father was only late, maybe facing troubles he had not foreseen. But, as the weeks turned into months, the realization that something was terribly wrong came to Julius. He doubled his training efforts hoping to become as strong as his father was. When he turned 18, the age that marked the end of training and the beggining of working for the royal family, Julius got permission to set off looking for his father. He was sad for leaving his sister, but he had to find out what happened to his father, and if he was alive or dead, so he left his home, carrying his father's artifacts and a present from his sister, that would made him remember her: a beautifuly crafted necklace depicting a water drop, made of silver and gold.
  For two years Julius sailed from port to port, walked from city to city. Many times he wished to give up and quit, but the blade and the cloak, presents from his father, always kept his mind set on the task of searching for his father. But all his efforts where in vain. He found no trace of his father. No one had heard of him for the last five years, and no one knew why he could have dissapeared. His father had just vanished, if that was possible. Beggining to lose all his hopes, Julius set out on the sea one last time. But it seemed that the Gods were against him this time; in a matter of minutes the calm sea turned into a strong storm, and Julius' small ship was about to break many times. It seemed it would be the end when a huge wave towered over the main mast, and knocked Julius unconscious.
  Julius awakened on a strange island that he did not knewn, and that he had never seen on any maps or charts. He didn't found his ship anywhere, not even remains from it, if it had crashed. Walking aimlessly through the island, Julius looked for something to eat. Finding some fruits on a large tree, he ate and laid down to sleep, feeling his body tired and weakened. Julius awakened, again, with a great roar. He had only the time to instinctively roll to the side before a great beast charged in, destroying the tree from which he ate the fruits. Julius tried fighting with the creature, but it was far too strong and resistant to be wounded, and Julius started to get beaten pretty bad. He could feel that he was close to death, when suddenly his blood became warmer. It was the first time his unusual powers showed, and Julius lost his mind with the transformation. When he was back to his senses, the beast laid down on the ground, slain, and Julius' body was almost fully healed. However, he was greatly tired. After another rest, Julius set out to fully explore the island.
  The island was a strange place, Julius found out. There were many weird beasts and monsters, and plants that Julius had never seen or heard about before. Maybe that island was part of the Lost Lands, Julius thought, but he would never be able to discover if that was the truth or not. Finding that he was alone, Julius worked to raise his chances of survival. The island was very big, so Julius set up many hidden "lairs", where he could sleep and rest safely. He also continued with his trainings, toughening his body and sharpening his skills to compete with the island's weird inhabitants. The skill Julius worked mostly to increase was his transformations abilities. Julius began focusing and training his mind, so that he could maintain his conscience while transformed. During six years, Julius was alone on the island. The only thing that kept Julius will to live was his sister's necklace, and the possibility of going back home and reuniting with her. But, as time passed, Julius felt increasingly lonely. He started to miss the movement on his house. He started to miss his family, even his distant cousins, whose name he didn't know. Starting to fear that he was becoming mad, Julius managed, after six years, to stock enough food and water to leave the island. He also built a small vessel for himself, dreaming of finding other people again.
  Leaving the island was even harder than arriving there. After many hardships on the open sea, including the shortage on food and water, Julius managed to arrive in a small port city. However, it took Julius another year to gather the resources needed for his return home. When he finally managed to arrive again in his house, the first thing Julius did was to look for his sister. He found a warrior, and not the weak and frail girl he knew when he left. He found a beautiful maiden, almost as strong as himself, who was now know as one of the youngest masters of the Renfield family. However, both of them were still bonded, and the reunion was a happy one. Julius was sad for finding no clue about his father's whereabouts, but was happy that he managed to return safely. And stronger, for that matter.
  Julius presented himself to the royal family at once, eager to fulfill his role as a servant. He had spent too much time away from his duties already, and would not want to disgrace his father's honor. After doing a few easy jobs for some months, Julius was tasked, together with many others, including his sister, with protecting the upcoming marriage between Princess Kitiny and Lord Velin, from the Republic of Calitat. This was a step towards a peaceful world, and Julius was happy about it.
  
  Additional Information:
  Julius' Sister: Anya is a beautiful young maiden with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. After Julius left looking for their father, she put her soul into her training, and became strong. She is a master of many martial arts and weapons, but is especially proficient with the bow.

[Pwenet]

Dramatic Persona – Part 2

• tgva8889 - Marissa Carthwright
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  Age: 18
  Race: Human (Gifted)
  Appearance:
  Marissa has more of a subdued beauty to her. Her face is simple, lacking elegance but containing a natural shape. Her dark brown hair goes down to a little bit past her shoulders, and is usually draped over them however they fall. Sometimes she chooses to put her hair up, but it does not happen often, and she generally only does so during work. In her eyes one could see perhaps the ocean or the farmlands or the sky, depending on the lighting of the room. The color of her skin is more similar to the Hispanic society today than to any other. When she speaks, her voice sounds a bit sing-songy, though she can change it in various different ways. In terms of stature, she is of the lower average in heights and appears to be the proper healthy weight for that age and height. If anything, she is physically fit.
  Marissa lacks a great deal of grace or poise, and acts generally as one would expect of a lower class citizen. Her clothes generally represent a simple ideal, one focused more on comfort and workability rather than elegance. She always wears a necklace with a strange symbol pendant, a strange sight on a girl of her stature. It is especially strange because the necklace, if valued, would be worth more than any peasant would be able to afford.
  
  Personality:
  In terms of how she acts towards people, Marissa is generally friendly but always slightly skeptical. Even she says she will trust you, which happens somewhat rarely, there always seems to be something underneath that she refuses to tell. When it comes to speaking, Marissa tends to speak her mind and does not often censor herself, though she sometimes does not speak with great confidence. She also has a tendency to start humming a tune or two while other people explain things to her.
  Her general world view is that you must find your own purpose to earn anything from the experiences life hands you. If asked to delve further, she will say that she has no clue what her purpose is. Life-or-death situations do not usually faze Marissa, though she is frightened and stressed by small things like work on the farm or her parents' pestering. She also believes that honor is the key to everything one could do, and would rather do something she hates doing than accept that she has lost her honor.
  
  Skills + Abilities:
  • General Farming Skills and Knowledge - Marissa could tell you what a hoe is and what it's used for, she could tell you when the planting season is, she could milk a cow without aggravating it, and she knows the proper method to seeding a crop.
  • Singing - Marissa has an exquisite singing voice, acquired from a lot of practice. However, the talent is completely natural, as Marissa has not been taught to sing by any kind of teacher.
  • Spear Proficiency - Marissa has spent a small bit of time with her brother, and eventually her father, learning how to properly use a spear. If it became necessary, Marissa could effectively fight as well as a common soldier were she to use a spear or similar weapon (a staff or a lance, for example).
  • Avatar of Salaria - At any time, Marissa can speak a specific and archaic word and magically transform into the Avatar of Salaria, who is described in a separate place below. She gains all the abilities and the personality traits of the Avatar, but also keeps her own, though they are slightly changed.
  
  The Avatar:
  

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  Name: Avatar of Salaria
  
  Age: Ageless
  
  Race: Demi-God (Mortal)
  
  Appearance:
  The Avatar of Salaria glows with a seemingly holy orange color. It appears to follow the general female anatomy. The Avatar possesses a very powerful muscle structure throughout the entire body. Upon its head, it always wears a helmet similar to a Roman-style battle helm from which a single grey plume flies. Its chest bears plate armor upon which a great eye is drawn. Across its back, a single spear-like object is strapped, this strap winding around the armor and covering the center of the eye. Around its waist a belt bearing two sheathed swords lies. Each blade appears to be of a similar and large shape, as though they were meant to be held in both hands. Armor plates of shining silver cling to the Avatar's legs where they can protect without hindering movement. On its feet, the Avatar wears boots that appear to be crafted from some kind of metal. Around its neck, the Avatar wears a necklace with a strange symbol similar to the one that Marissa wears.
  The Avatar's eyes always glow the color of sunlight, though not strong enough to blind. Its hair appears to be similar style as Marissa's hair normally is, though it flows downwards from the helm. Its face appears to be that of some kind of goddess in beauty. In terms of form, the Avatar is incredibly tall for a human at almost 7', though its body is proportionally larger to accompany this. Its voice resonates when it speaks, and the voice is almost always booming and low.
  
  Personality:
  The Avatar of Salaria cares only about one thing: punishing those who would attempt to do injustice on its values and who would hinder the goals of Salaria. When aggravated, the Avatar will destroy whatever evil stands in its way. It is incredibly benevolent towards the peasantry, while generally treating the nobility as average people. Of those who trust it the Avatar is incredibly protective, constantly putting its body in harm's way to protect its allies. The Avatar always speaks with conviction. When it comes to fear, nothing strikes such emotion in the Avatar.
  
  Skills + Abilities:
  • Great Strength - The Avatar of Salaria has strength greater than the average man. It is strong enough that it can hold a sword meant to be held in both hands with only one arm. Additionally, the Avatar can jump great heights and move at greater speeds than the average man.
  • Magical Resistance - The Avatar is almost completely immune to magical effects that could cause it damage. Though a sufficiently strong spell could damage the Avatar, most spells used by even military gifted are not of proper strength or magical concentration to pierce the Avatar.
  • Great Endurance - The Avatar can take some wounds that would kill a more mortal man and continue to fight, ignoring both normal pain and loss of blood. The Avatar is not, however, immortal, and will be affected by injuries that would physically prevent actions, such as a broken limb. A wound that would cause immediate death, such as a bullet to the skull, would still kill the Avatar.
  • Aura of Strength - Those allied with the Avatar feel their strength and will to fight and win increase when in battle alongside it. Similarly, the Avatar's opponents will feel weighted and sluggish as they fight.
  • Strength of the People - The Avatar draws its strength from those who support it. If there are many who believe that the Avatar will succeed, then it will grow stronger and better equipped towards dealing with that goal. If, however, its supporters do not believe it will succeed, the Avatar will lose some of its power and become more mortal.
  • Combatant - The Avatar is an expert swordsman and generally chooses to use two swords in combat rather than a sword and shield. It is also skilled in the use of a spear or similar weapon, though not nearly to the degree that it can use swords.
  • Light of the Gods - The Avatar emits a constant light from its body of orange hue. This light can be seen by all creatures and cannot be subdued. In general, this light is equivalent to that of what a campfire would provide, except wider out due to the height of the Avatar.
  • Marissa - The Avatar can, at any time, choose to transform from its current form back into a human form. When it does so, the human form will reappear in whatever garb it had been previously wearing and will lose all the abilities the Avatar possesses.
  

  
  Background:
  

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  The history of Marissa's family is much longer than her own. Her father, as a high-ranking military official, was stationed in one of the borderlands of Pulento, similar to where his family lives now. Being non-gifted, he was always confined to fighting the wars of common soldiers. What was unusual about the time was that the farmers who lived in the borderlands had offered to take up arms against any foes who would threaten their land. As a commanding officer and military manager, Marissa's father knew he needed all the soldiers he could get, but he refused to allow the lives of the farmers to be lost. However, as the war raged on, he found that his defensive forces were losing too many men, whether in conflict or in transfers to other areas of war. The farmers continued to make their offer, and eventually, Marissa's father couldn't refuse. Soon, whichever farmers wanted to fight had now acquired the military knowledge to do so. While he was later chastised by the governmental offices for his actions, Marissa's father was treated like a hero in the borderlands.
  
  Marissa's mother fell in love with her father while he was working in the borderlands. Once Marissa's father had ended his term with the military of Pulento, he settled down with his lover in the borderlands and married a happy man. Together, the couple had two children within the first two years of their marriage. Marissa, the third, was born almost six years after her brothers, and her younger brother was born only three years afterwards. Her next sister was born three years after that, and the youngest of the family was born four years later.
  
  Marissa and her family has lived in a rural area of Pulento near the city of Pacapri for as long as she can remember. Her father had once been a highly ranked military official, but now, in his age, he was retired and opted to live with his wife where she had always loved to be. Marissa was always caring for the children, even when she was only five years old and she only had to care for her brother. When her brother was old enough to do so, she began to work on the fields, learning from her mother what she could do to help. Their farm held no gender roles; everyone could do everything, so long as they knew how.
  
  Marissa, all through her earlier years, had opportunities thrown at her. Once she had reached age five, her brothers were already being taught by the schools of Pacapri. As a member of a military family, she had been offered the chance to follow their choice at age 10, but refused in order to care for her younger siblings. Once, while singing and working on the farm, her parents had talked to her and told her she could be sent into the city to learn and expand on that talent, but she refused, preferring to be with her family and work on the farm. When her brothers were sent to join the military, she was again given the chance to join a teaching institution and again refused that option.
  
  At the beginning of the first month of her thirteenth year of life, Marissa began to have strange dreams. She dreamed of a great figure, burning brightly, that held its hand out to her in offering. Every time she slept, she saw the same image. The figure was never clear; always sheathed in orange flames, and always holding its hand out to her. As time passed, Marissa began getting more and more involved in the dream, eventually beginning to speak with the being. Soon, the dreams began to feel like a reality that she entered only during the night and never remembered during the day, like an alternate life she could not access. Finally, she began to remember her dreams even during the daytime, wondering at the cryptic words she traded with the being. It told her that change was coming, that she would be the instrument of that change and that the being would, in turn, be the conductor. One day on the farm changed Marissa's life forever shortly after.
  
  While working, Marissa fell unconscious completely at random. She returned to the place of her visions and saw the creature she had been speaking with for almost three months. The being spoke to her, its voice booming around wherever they were. "My name is Salaria. You will be my envoy on your world. You will work towards my goals, you will spread my thoughts, and you will not allow what I do not." Before she could do anything, she felt the flaming figure grasp her hand and transfer a great power to her. She felt her body explode, and then she knew she was something else. Her body was greater, stronger, and tougher than she had ever experienced. The being spoke again, this time informing her of all the power it had bestowed upon her. "When you are in this form, you will not be you. You will have control of this body, but this body will be that of my avatar. Through me you gain this power, and only through me do you have this ability. My avatar will resonate through your mind as I do now, and this being will pass on to you what I pass on to it." Immediately following those words, Marissa's dream vision began to black and she awakened, her family around her trying to rouse her, wondering what had happened. None of them noticed that she had somehow acquired a necklace bearing a strange and unrecognizable symbol.
  
  Since that day, Marissa had heard the Avatar in her mind. While the Avatar did have a mind of its own, it could not influence Marissa if she did not allow it to. She could usually choose to completely blot its voice from her mind when she wanted, and she could choose to allow it to speak to her again when she wanted to know what it knew. She had also acquired another ability; she could transform to the form she had in that dream whenever she felt the need. However, transforming drew attention to her, attention she did not want to have. Though it was soundless, the light caused by such transformation was incredible. Additionally, transforming back left her tired and usually unconscious. Not knowing what to do, Marissa tried to keep her ability secret for as long as possible.
  
  The Avatar did not like this course of action. It told Marissa that she needed to be involved in the dealings of the world, and this time she could not blot out its words. Eventually, she became so annoyed with the Avatar that she did what it asked. She used her power like a super hero might, stopping what injustices she witnessed. The Avatar was appeased, but it wanted her to be more involved than that. Up until she was eighteen, Marissa was forced by the Avatar to work in Pacapri, traveling about it and trying to stop the injustices that she could. She became an urban legend of the time, though never truly recognized as any name.
  
  When her father received an invitation to attend the marriage in Pacapri, he was thrilled to go. Marissa read the letter herself, and the Avatar told her what Salaria wanted from her. Marissa knew she would not be forgiven for missing this opportunity, both by her family and Salaria, so she began begging her father to bring her along. Though she was forced to make a deal with him that she would attend schooling, he was able to convince the proper officials to invite her as well. The events to come would set in motion change in the world that Marissa could not begin to comprehend.
  
  
• The_Outlander - Mirrassi
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  Race: Human(Non-Gifted)http://www.giantitp.com/forums/image...allredface.gif
  Height: 6'4
  Appearance:
  A red-skinned man, feline muscular form.
  His face is extrordinarily handsome, each curve complimenting or highlighting another feature, and it's topped by a dirty blond mop of hair, hiding the pointed ears, studded with multiple earrings.
  He wears a pair of soft soled leather boots, Brown pants, and a fur-laden navy blue tunic.
  He has tattoos all over his body in blue ink, as is part of his custom, the most noticible, is the one below his bottom lip, a blue spade pointing downwards.
  He carries a sword, a long-hilted scimitar of his people, on his back, and wears a neckace with a glowing violet crystal.
  Age: thirty winters
  Concept: Savage prince, troubled by a dark past.
  Bio: Of the warlords of the frozen north, Mirrassi was born to the least of them, on the stormiest winter day.
  Mirrassi is the native tongue for "Born of Snow," and he was the first of twins. His brother would be known as Dalvinus or "Nature's Chosen." In their childhood, Dalvinus was the favored of the children to be the next warlord, he surpassed Mirrassi in athletics, battle, courage, and raw intelligence.
  Mirrassi, however, had a poet's heart, and was more loved by his concubine mother.
  Mirrassi fell ill on his 14th winter, vexxing the warlord's healers, especially when their forms of supernatural healing failed on the young man.
  A single shaman came into the city at the behest of the warlord, and he told the warlord of a herb that could save him, the only problem was that the herb was a three day ride from the warlord's camp, and that the youth would die in five days.
  Dalvinus, hearing this, snuck his brother out of the camp and rode hard for three days, to arrive at the base of the mountain, called Arik'G'uld (roughly translated as severe protector) Where he began his hike to find such a herb. When he reached the herb that matched the description the shaman sent, the once roaring wilderness became quiet, and the bitter cold became an unpleasant mildness. It was when he picked the herb, did he give his life to his brother. He did not yet know it.
  As Dalvinus picked the herb, the shaman appeared in front of him.
  "So it is you who would fight for your brother's life, but for what reasons?"
  Dalvinus pulled out his scimitar towards the huddled old man.
  "Do you do it to appear gracious? to show you're the stronger of the two of you?"
  Dalvinus did not respond, only fed the semi-conscious Mirrassi the foul smelling herb as he kept his sword pointed at the old man.
  The shaman looked back in discust, "You. You chose love. Which is why your father's line shall end here."
  The shaman's mouth opened, past his chin, and then finally past his chest, and the vortex of the warp, the very essence of the lost lands.
  Both boys stared into it, and then, Dalvinus was swallowed.
  Leaving behind all of his worldly possesions, including his body, Dalvinus was now nothing more than a skin puppet, dropping like a doll in the snow.
  Mirrassi, however, in the peak of his fever, said nothing, and continued to stare at the lost lands.
  
  His miraculous return without his brother recieved a less than warm reception, and his inability to talk worsened this, he continued to shadow his father until the age of 24, when his father stepped down and he stood up for the position of "Ys'thach" (lesser warlord) and ruled modestly,
  As the continents came together for peace, the warlords of the north allied together, and Mirrassi was easily the most likable of the warlords, as his unassuming nature and his lack of hostility eased him into the speaker's seat for the "Frozen North." He has regained the ability to speak, and does so modestly for the allied coallation of warlords.
  
  Speech Color: DarkRed
  
  Specialties: If Mirrassi had to have a specialty, it would be general charisma, but that's coming from a warring, native background, so the intricacies of high society would be lost on him.
  He would be above average in Martial training, given his background as the son of a warlord.
  
  Intricacies: Magical healing and Magical attacks don't affect Mirrassi, whether it is a gift of his birth, or it was part of his stare into the lost lands, he can neither be healed, nor harmed, by magic, something he likes to keep to himself.
  
  Reason for attendance: Personal and professional curiosity. As a representitive of the North, he is there to support the union, and also to look for answers, answers to what happened to his brother. Maybe another glimpse into the lost lands.
  
  Items:
  Dalvinius's Long-hilted Scimitar (in sheath, on back)
  Violet Crystal Pendant
  Ring of the warlords(ring of the northstar)
  Blue pelted tunic, in-laid with scalemail
  Messenger bag:
  Sack of gems (about the equivalent of 30,000 dollars)
  Scroll of approval from the north
  various writing utensils, graphite based
  sketch pad (lambskin)
  Journal
  compass
  sand-spice(bound in lambskin)
  confectioner's sugar(in small bottle)
  Salt(in small bottle)
  utility knife(in boot)
  
  

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  Combat
  
  Advantages:
  

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  Reflexes- In winter, the warlords continued to fight, albiet they had to continue to be bundled to stave off hypothermia. As they squared off, the warriors would continue to stay bundled in their furs, with their weapons sheathed, until the last possible moment, before they would draw their weapons and strike in one fluid motion. Masters of this art would finish the strike before their body heat could be seen steaming off their capes. Mirrassi is not a master of this art, but he is well versed in this style of combat.
  
  Balance- Often, the smart warlord will camp on ice, as it discourages charges and serves as an easy source of food and fuel (fish and seals, fellas, ice fishing for the win) Mirrassi has practiced hunting on ice since childhood, and is almost always surefooted.
  
  Creativity- Mirrassi has a certain twinkle of insight when he fights, this gives him the upper hand, even when he's out-muscled and out matched.
  

  
  
  Disadvantages:
  

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  Unarmed combat- Mirrassi's never been trained in unarmed combat, as the north really did not have any sort of formal unarmed training, his style is like that of a bear's, get close to the opponent, grab and beat on him.
  
  Sprinting- Mirrassi, being of the north, found sprinting a waste of both energy and heat, and therefore can't sprint fast or long, and will need to take a breather after about 150 feet. His long distance running however, is average, and he can easily run two miles.
  
  ranged combat- Mirrassi was trained in the Gaer'Bola, or the sharpened seal pelvis. Because these are weapons of war, he left them with his tribe, and he is unfamiliar with the bow/crossbow/musket/other ranged weapons.

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  As to "What about his knife?" it is culturally unacceptable to throw something with a metal blade, as metal that is tempered and treated should not be made expendable.
  
  
• The_Snark - Ula
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  Background: Many children have imaginary friends growing up. It rarely worries parents, unless those friends remain present and the child convinced they are real into their teenage and adult years. Ula's parents weren't worried, despite the solemn way their daughter would listen and converse with them. Maybe in due time, Ula's parents would have grown concerned. As events went, the matter was brought heart-wrenchingly to their attention when one of Ula's imaginary friends somehow convinced her to leave her home village.
  
  Despite all efforts, they never found her. That friend, she called Raven, after a character out of one of her father's old fables. It was him who persuaded her that something terrible would happen if she didn't listen, that she couldn't take her parents with her or tell them, and it was he who guided her away from the search parties.
  
  With his guidance, she found food, avoided the foraging parties sent out by soldiers on the march and the occasional deserter or starving beast. It was much lonelier on the road, and she grew used to Raven as company. Sometimes she spent time with other people, travelers on the road, farmers, villages; if Raven hadn't warned her away from them, they were usually safe. Sometimes his inscrutable guidance was frustrating, and under great pressure, he told her at the age of 9 what would have happened if she'd stayed. A group of soldiers would have passed on their way back from the front a year later, taking supplies from their household. Ula's presence would have meant her mother would be home for sure; one of the soldiers would have made a lewd comment, and her father would have taken umbrage. It would have escalated to a fight, killing her father (Raven never said whether anything would have happened to her and her mother). She didn't leave it at that, of course; couldn't Raven have just told her when to be out of the house with her mother? Couldn't he have let her stay longer? He refused to say anything more than that that had been the best time to leave.
  
  She didn't grow angry with Raven often, but that was the first time. The next time he told her to change direction and visit a certain road, she refused. The game here was good, and the only soldiers in the area had all been safe to be around, so he said. Raven was silent for three whole days after, and then she was attacked by a starving dog in the night. She fought it off, but the bite in her leg grew infected. Raven broke his silence to tell her where to find the herbs that would make her leg get better, and she listened. She listened for a long time after that; his advice was good, and the world dangerous.
  
  The second and last time she didn't listen to him was years later, while she was staying at a farmhouse with an elderly couple. She had been there two weeks, and liked the pair, who were odd in their habits but kind to her, so when Raven simply told her to set out west one day, she asked why, and pressed. Raven eventually answered that a raiding party would strike two nights from now, burning the house and taking the animals. She believed him, but she didn't want to leave the couple to that. She told them of her often-prophetic dreams, and eventually convinced both to leave. When she asked if anything bad would happen if she went south to the village with them instead of west, Raven was uncharacteristically silent.
  
  It was a slow journey, and while they escaped Raven's foretold disaster with a mule bearing all their prize belongings, disaster struck in a different form. A group of deserters-turned-bandits came on them in the night; Ula killed one, and fearing what they might do to a young woman, the elderly wife called to Ula to flee without them. Ula knew she was right; they were too many to fight, and the old couple couldn't outrun anyone. Glancing back into the firelight, her eyes caught a glimpse of the old man with a spear through his chest, and his wife lying still as the men took packs off the mule.
  
  Raven broke his silence again the day after, giving her terse directions, and she obeyed. It was clear to her that ignoring Raven could bring disaster, and she has not done it since. Raven's guidance has taken her in recent months across the sea to Caluso; his last instructions were to make her way to Pacapri...
  
  Appearance: Black-haired and blue-eyed, Ula is lean rather than thin. A little on the short side, she wears wool clothing in several shades of green and brown, suitable for hunting game in. She wears a backpack, and over it, she carries a bow, quiver, and a wooden hunting-spear, which doubles as a walking-stick. She has a disconcerting tendency to stare.
  
  Skills/Abilities: The most obvious of her abilities is her companion spirit Raven. Named after a prominent figure in several old fables, Ula named him when he was young, too young to really know he wasn't much like the merry trickster of story. Usually solemn, Raven's sense of humor is rarely exhibited, and is not especially kind; luckily, it is rarely directed at her, generally taking the form of a dry amusement at someone else's plight. Raven is protective of her, but not very affectionate. He's also rather closemouthed—he tells her what he thinks she needs to know, and little more. How he knows what he knows is a mystery; he has preternatural knowledge of events both past and yet to come, but he has never answered how he knows, or any questions on his own nature. Ula never sees him; when she speaks with him (usually in dreams, but she can hear his voice waking as well), she is surrounded by endless darkness, with only Raven's voice and the occasional hint of something moving to tell her what is there.
  
  It is possible that Raven is a creature or spirit in his own right, and if so it is possible that he has motives beyond Ula's protection, and that he is using Ula for some unknown purpose. It is also possible that he is nothing more than a product of her mind, a schizophrenic manifestation of a precognitive Gift.
  
  Apart from her strange companion, Ula isn't much more than a girl, albeit a girl who grew up without protectors. She's capable of sustaining herself while hunting, is a fair shot with a bow, and knows how to use a spear. She's physically fit from her travels, but even so, she has no formal combat training.
  
  
• Warpfire777 - Cosad Obutar - Killed during the bloody wedding by the City Guard
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  Age: 47
  
  Appearance: Tall, muscled, and his already darker complexion tanned from years in the sun, Cosad seems to be the picture of the hardened soldier. His facial features (more striking and strong than attractive) add to the effect. Still, signs of aging can be seen, such as the traces of grey in his short black hair or the occasional look of weariness that comes to his dark blue eyes. But his bearing remains erect and his voice as capable of bellowed commands as ever.
  
  Background: Cosad was born into a poor peasant family in the desert kingdom of Gifa. Life wasn’t easy, but he had a happy enough early childhood. He didn’t know anything else to compare it to. But Gifa was not the only country in the desert, sharing it with the kingdom of Iqirel. There weren’t enough resources for both populations, and so war was frequent and bloody.
  
  This time, Iqirel had the upper hand. On the offensive, they were making a strong push for Gifa’s capital and Cosad’s hometown, Aqin. The ruler of Gifa was desperate to prevent the fall of his kingdom, and so drastic measures were taken to increase the strength of the army. At the age of thirteen, Cosad was given a dagger and after a short training period was to be sent to the front lines. His parents didn’t want to let this happen, but there was little they could do defy the will of Gifa’s Emperor, Jabbar. So they said there tearful goodbyes and prayed for his safe return.
  
  And so young Cosad was introduced to war. Though scared and confused, he soon learned that it was either kill or be killed. As he grew older and stronger, he took to using the favored weapon of his people: the flail. Eventually he started to rise in ranks, and as he began taking command of groups of men it was discovered he had a natural talent for tactics. However, only upper class citizens were allowed to be in higher ranks, and so Cosad’s tactical abilities went relatively unutilized.
  
  Perhaps Emperor Jabbar’s rigid ways helped lead to Gifa’s defeat. In any case, after years of fighting the Iqirel forces attacked Aqin. At twenty two years, Cosad was among the defenders. Faced with far greater numbers using much better equipment, the city was utterly crushed. Many Gifans fled, having heard of the harsh treatment and oppression the territories Jabbar had already conquered endured. Cosad and his parents were among them.
  
  Having had no time to learn a trade and his aging parents struggling to support themselves, he turned to the only thing he knew to survive: killing. Cosad became a mercenary, fighting with many different companies. As he gained command experience in these companies, he started receiving offers to take command posts for a campaign, anywhere from small battalions to large divisions of an army.
  
  
  Cosad was fighting on the side of Pulento before the peace. During this time he earned the title ‘Hero of Aluen’ for certain actions deemed especially brave by the rulers and the people. The title sits uneasily with Cosad, as he only thinks of his actions as ‘just doing his job’. Because of his ‘heroism’, Cosad has been invited to the wedding. He has to decided to attend, though the idea of the wedding makes him uneasy. Though he is all for peace, he wonders what he will do with his life now and how he will support his parents in their final years..
  
  Abilities: Cosad is an extremely skilled fighter with his weapon of choice: a triple ball flail. He is also somewhat experienced and fairly good using other weapons, especially scimitars and other swords. Keeping a brace of single shot pistols on his person, he’s a fairly good shot with them. An excellent rider, he excels at mounted combat. He makes for a good leader of men, with a great knowledge of tactics and their application as well as basic leadership skills. Cosad’s time as a commander of armies has also given him a bit of experience with the upper classes of societies (at post war celebrations and such) and so has an idea of how things work and what and what not to say in these situations. Though he still isn't really comfortable in them.
  
  Equipment: Usually, Cosad wears finely crafted plate armor into battle. It has a spell cast on it to repel hostile magic, but it doesn’t grant immunity. He wields an enchanted triple ball flail that he looted from an aristocrat’s mansion on his way out of the fallen Gifa. It is much stronger than a mundane weapon and quite difficult to break, even with other magical items. Additionally, it has the ability to shoot out the spikes of its three balls at enemies, which fly back after striking. One of Cosad’s most prized possessions (or in his opinion, companion) would be his black horse, Jabu. Swift and intelligent with high endurance, Cosad cares about the animal greatly.
  
  
• WhiteKnight - Wulf One-Eye
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  Race: ? (Appears human - As for his "Gifts", see below.)
  Age: ? (If anyone knows, they aren't telling.)
  Skills/Abilities:
  

  • Shapeshifting - Wulf has the ability to shapeshift between a number of forms - he cant take on the appearance of an male of any of the mundane humanoid species, though his appearance always retains certain characteristics as detailed below. He can also take the form of a wolf, raven, bear, owl, coyote or fox, at will.
    
    
  • Healing - Wulf heals very quickly from even serious injuries. He's also capable of regenerating lost limbs, though he's never been known to regrow his head (Or at least, it's never been seen.) He also doesn't appear to scar, at least, beyond what's already apparent on his form. If he isn't killed outright, even seemingly life-threatening injuries will repair themselves in a matter of hours or days, though against magic or otherwise supernaturally inflicted injuries, this capacity is not so certain.
    
    
  • Dream-Thief - Wulf is a legend for his ability to get into almost anywhere, no matter how inaccessible - even into the realm of dreams. Wulf can take himself and up to a dozen others into the realm of dreams - Either through a guided shared dream or in their physical entirety. The former is safer, as death in the dream-world merely returns to one's body, and it is far easier to return to where one left, but the latter offers more power in the dream, and the ability to step forth from the dreams of any being into the physical world.
    
    The dream-realm is a strange and wondrous place, and consists not only of the dreams of individual creatures, but the collective dreams of all sentient creatures. Whether walking in the shared dream-realms or in individual dreams, Wulf has great power to shape and sculpt dreams, being an old hand at the task, and even knows how to gather dreams and bottle them in crystal flasks to be sold in the strange markets between worlds where dream-thieves gather.
    
    
  • Shadow Step - The second part of Wulf's uncanny ability to move where 'ere he wills is a strange art he calls the Walk of Shadows - this has several benefits. For one, Wulf cannot be tracked unless he wishes to be. he leaves no scent, no footprints, drops no hairs. He leaves no trace of his presence unless he desires to do so.
    
    Second, Wulf knows how to step into the Shadow - the strange darkling mirror of the normal world. This is a dark and dangerous realm, but Wulf knows its ways well, and knows how to find the safe places within it and avoid the dangers. He also has a degree of mastery over those that dwell within the shadow, and can hold them back and keep himself and those he travels with - again, up to around a dozen - safe from harm. Shadow paths are strange things, and time passes oddly in the shadow - but unless something goes awry, it offers quick and straight paths to wherever Wulf needs to go - even places that might otherwise prove inaccessible
    
    
  • Fighter - Wulf is a fairly skilled warrior, though he tends to rely more on deception and speed than on brute force. His real virtue is in his versatility, his ability to know just how to strike for maximum effect, and his wide knowledge of almost every concievable weapon type.
    
    
  • Glib Tongue - Wulf is slipperier than a greased eel on ice. One of, if not his greatest strength is his tongue and his wits - he's extremely charming, and despite the fact that they know it's a bad idea, most folk can't help but like him. He's personable, gregarious, and has the uncanny talent of fooling even people who've dealt with him before.
    
    
  • Lore of the Wanderer - Wulf has been almost everywhere in his unnumbered journeys, and is a font of old lore. He remembers bits of old tales and has a great deal of lore on all manner of subjects. This can sometimes prove extremely useful, but more often than not is simply an interesting bit of knowledge. It also means that Wulf generally has some sort of story about almost anything, and enjoys recounting them, and that Wulf also knows a great deal of information on many subjects, including rather esoteric ones.

  
  
  Background: Old Wulf is a legend. No one knows how old he is, or where he came from originally. Some claim that he's the son of a trickster-god. Others claim that he's a mischievous spirit. The truth remains a mystery, and if anyone besides Wulf himself knows, they aren't telling. What is known is that Wulf has been around for a very long time - accounts of him stretch back hundreds of years, and possibly longer, depending on the interpretation of certain historical records. Wulf himself is mum on the matter.
  
  What's more curious is the fact that no one has ever reported seeing him in a younger form. His age and appearance seem fixed. Wulf is the subject of a number of songs and tales, though the fact and the fancy are incredibly difficult to pick between. Regardless, however, several salient facts are readily apparent regarding Wulf - One is that he's an sly old rogue with a wicked sense of humor, and another is that he's a capricious yet curiously honorable entity. Wulf is most famous, however, in his mercenary capacity - Throughout the war there are accounts of him working for various kingdoms to accomplish strategic goals, often stealing important items or performing covert assassinations. He appears to have his own inscrutable code of ethics, and his prices have sometimes been exceedingly strange - sometimes demanding fortunes, at others working for a song, a flower, a kiss.
  
  He tends to be kindly disposed towards the dispossessed - orphans, widows, the poor - although this fluctuates depending on the individuals in question. He's also an irascible trickster who stirs mischief just for the enjoyment of it. Despite it all, however, every first-hand account of him agrees that he has a magnetic personality that's undeniably enchanting.
  
  Appearance: Wulf, in whatever form he appears, is an older male of the species he's emulating - usually on the tall end of the spectrum, with a powerful build that appears to have only been toughened by age, a number of scars, though these seem to appear and disappear at his whim, and only his right eye, the other usually covered by a patch of some sort. He's always dressed for the occasion, though he may appear in a style befitting an older time, and his form is always exceedingly attractive.
  
  
• wxdruid - Dom Kyriell
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  Race: Deryni
  Class: Cleric/Egoist
  Alignment: NG, Temperment: He is patient, dedicated to his calling and very slow to anger.
  Age: late 40's
  Height: 5'7"
  Hair color: Brown going to grey
  Eye Color: Brown
  Speech Color: blue
  
  Other:

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  He has the classic Deryni abilities of truth reading, the ability to create handfire, ability to banish fatigue, block physical pain, induce sleep in himself and others and he has a set of ward cubes. He has limited telepathy, excellent control over his own mind/body, limited telekinetic abilities and the rare ability to heal himself and others. He has a few minor abilities (such as being able to light a candle by willing it).
  
  Dom Kyriell is a member of a religious order that is sworn to help those in need, nonviolence and celibacy. He carries no weapons and will do his best to disable an attacker without harming them or simply by avoiding the fight.
  
  All Gabrielites have a 4 stranded braid called a g'dula. When they officially join the order they start their braid and don't cut their hair unless absolutely necessary.
  
  The badge of the Order is a circled cross with flared ends, usually white or pale blue. Healers of the order displayed a badge of a couped right hand, vert pierced in the palm by a white star of VIII points, being the reverse of the standard secular Healer's badge.
  

  
  
  [Back Story]
  
  

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  He is a member of the Order of Saint Gabriel during King Imre's reign. He focused on mastering his body and mind. The Order of Saint Gabriel has one abbey in the Lendour Mtns called Saint Neot's Abbey. They are well known for their healers and their monastic traditions. He is a well accomplished healer. After Alister and his associates killed the King and brought the old human line back to his country he lived quite happily in the Monastery until Rhun the Ruthless sacked the Monastery as war began across the region as one faction sought to overcome the next. He barely managed to escape through a transfer portal/teleporting and wandered the war torn land preaching peace. He ended up beaten and bruised on the side of a road. The nearby religious order found him and took him in and he recovered. When they traveled to perform/attend the wedding, Kyriell traveled with them as one of the few healers in their party.

  
  
  Saint Gabriel's Information
  
  

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  Also called 'The Herald,' he is one of the archangel protectors called upon to ward a magical circle in certain ceremonies, his quarter being the West and his sign being a white crescent. His element is water.

  
  
  Other archangels
  
  

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  Saint Uriel-'The Angel of Death,' his quarter is the North and his sign a golden square, his element is earth.
  Saint Raphael-'The Healer,' his quarter is the East and his sign is a black circle, his element is air.
  Saint Michael-'who is like God,' or 'The Defender,' his quarter is the South and his sign a red glowing triangle, his element is fire.

  
  
  Adsum Domine, the hymn of the Gabrielite healers
  
  

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  Here am I, Lord:
  Thou hast granted me the grace to heal men's bodies.
  Here am I, Lord:
  Thou hast blessed me with the Sight to See men's souls.
  Here am I, Lord:
  Thou hast given me the might to bend the will of others.
  O Lord, grant strength and wisdom to wield all these gifts
  only as Thy will wouldst have me serve...
  
  The Lord of Light said unto me, Behold:
  Thou art My chosen child, My gift to man.
  Before the daystar, long before thou wast in mother-womb,
  thy soul was sealed to Me for all time out of mind.
  Thou art My Healing hand upon this world.
  Mine instrument of life and Healing might.
  To thee I give the breath of Healing power,
  the awesome, darkling secrets of the wood adn vale and earth.
  I give thee all these gifts that thou mayst know my love:
  Use all in service of the ease of man and beast.
  Be cleansing fire to purify corruption,
  a pool of sleep to bring surcease from pain.
  Keep close within thy heart all secrets given,
  as safe as said in shriving, and as sacred.
  Nor shall thy Sight be used for revelation,
  unless the other's mind be freely offered.
  With consecrated hands, make whole the broken.
  With consecrated soul, reach out and give My peace...
  
  Here am I, Lord:
  All my talents at Thy feet I lay.
  Here am I, Lord:
  Thou art the One Creator of all things.
  Thou art the Omnipartite One Who ruleth Light and Shade,
  Giver of Life and Gift of Life Thyself.
  Here am I, Lord:
  All my being bound unto Thy will.
  Here am I, Lord:
  Sealed unto Thy service, girt with strength to save or slay.
  Guide and guard Thy servant, Lord, from all temptation,
  that honor may be spotless and my Gift unstained...
  

[Pwenet]

Dramatic Persona - Part 3

Reserved for future use if needed.

[Pwenet]

The Lands of Nifal-Vahen

[Pwenet]

The Beginning

• Lord Meusethpro - Thirteen Years Ago
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  The earth exploded around him, sending soil, water from the down pouring rain and a young soldier flying to the ground. Memories of his mother and father rush through the head of the young soldier as he forced himself up against the heavy weight of his armor as unnatural lightning crashes into the ground. Crawling painfully forward despite the bleeding in his ears he raises his crossbow and let’s loose at a distant target.
  
  The hairs at the back of his neck tingle and he turns to look from his prone position on the ground. Turning his head up he sees High Lord Meusethpro striding confidently through the battlefield. The air shimmers around him as several crossbow bolts slam into his defensive spells which shimmer as the rain strikes his, keeping the Lord dry. With the barest of gestures lighting flies from the clouds at distant targets. His eyes crackling with power turn to look at the young soldier and he gestures, sending unseen forces pushing against the soldier, pushing him back and out of the way as fireball crashes into the ground.
  
  Rolling to the side the soldier hides behind the meager cover of a tree and frantically tries to load his crossbow as Lord Meusethpro waves his hands, catching an incoming fireball and throws it back at the source, generating screams distant screams of pain. Shaking hands pull back and raise the crossbow as Lord Meusethpro walks towards him and looks at the distant enemies before turning to look at the soldier, who feels his life is like an open book to the lord.
  
  ”What are you doing here? You platoon is two miles to the east. This is not the territory for non-gifted.”
  
  His throat tries to speak words, how he was scouting, how his partner was killed, how he got lost and only found himself not involved in a war where magic’s were flung freely about, how he has only the slightest touch yet nowhere near enough to be useful in a magical battlefield.
  
  Yet those words died in his throat as he sees something his mind can’t comprehend, something that makes him silently scream out in horror as reality ripples and bends, twisting and stretching everything. The falling rain arcs into the disturbance where each drop explodes like a firework. What makes this even worse is that Lord Meusethpro, one of the most talented of the gifted, so powerful he wanders into the magical battlefields alone for fear of hurting other lesser gifted, looks at the same disturbance with a look of confusion.
  
  He gestures at it and reality starts to solidify but the disturbance grows more and more. The soldier feels his nerves ignite as if his flesh was on fire, as if a tiny part of his mind was trying to scream out something important to him but the rest of his brain refused to for fear of his sanity. Yet what was even worse was that Lord Meusethpro stumbled and fell to his knees as the disturbance approaches him and then washes over Lord Meusethpro who gestures, sending the soldier flying away before a blinding flash of light sends the soldier into the realm where dreams reside.
  
  

  * * *

  
  Blinking his eyes open the soldier groans in pain as he awakens. Pain washes over him as he pulls himself away from the cover. Looking around he sees that the heavily wooded forest is gone, replaced by burnt stumps of trees, scorched rocks and the burnt skeletons of the dead. In the middle of it all is Lord Meusethpro, stumbling as if exhausted and drunk. Power shimmers around his body. He then looks up and sees the soldier, who gasps at the charred and burned sockets where Lord Meusethpro eyes used to be.
  
  ”A survivor, one of low ones, a fool who does not see. Yes master, I can see clearly now the pain is gone. It is going to be a bright day as we illuminate these blinded fools. I see you, I shall not let you send an SOS to the world, no messages in a bottle.”
  
  The confused words echo through the soldier’s mind Lord Meusethpro gestures. He blinks once, twice and tries to speak. His body goes numb and the world twists around and he sees his headless body fall to the ground as pain runs through his head as it strikes the ground. His mouth twitches as his vision starts to fade away as Lord Meusethpro walks through the battlefield whistling an unknown tune. As he fades away to the lands of the dead he hears the finals words of his life.
  
  ”It is time to enlighten this world.”
  
  
• Dorizzit - Ark Tamayus
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  Ark woke up. He didn't think much about it: Ark rarely had any dreams, and since he never felt tired, he didn't suffer from the normal state of disorientation that was commonly experienced upon waking. Ark stood up and stretched, looking around the small courtyard he had taken his rest in. Ark currently had enough funds to spend the night at an inn, but years of campaigning had actually made it so Ark slept easier on the ground, leaning against his sword. He turned and pulled it out of the ground, dirt sliding off the slick mithral blade.
  Sheathing Conviction, Ark brushed himself off and made sure all his possessions were still there. His way of sleeping had gotten him robbed several times, for although Ark was a light sleeper, there was always a thief skilled enough to sneak a few trinkets or baubles from him in the night. He stretched again, feeling his muscles loosen up. He looked around, and, not seeing anyone, began walking through the pleasant twilight.
  Ark had always liked the twilight, although he didn't know why. In its half light, he felt calm, and young again. He chuckled, as the "young" memories that came back to him were from his first two centuries, when he was already old by most reckonings. Ark kept walking for while, as he had well over three hours before he was supposed to meet his most recent employer. He eventually reached the city gate, and was admitted out with little more than a questioning stare from a bleary guardsman.
  Ark kept going until he was well out of sight of the city, and then ducked off the main road to find a copse of trees. He did so. He looked around to make sure no one was there, and then again, and then a third time, until he was absolutely sure that no one was nearby. Finally convinced, Ark drew Conviction from its sheath.
  Ark reached into a pocket, and drew forth a small statuette depicting eight warriors standing together. Ark placed it on the ground, and leapt back, holding his sword in a defensive grip. The statuette began to glow. The glow was then absorbed into the ground. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, eight warriors rose from the ground, identical to the eight in the statuette. They were formed of the earth, and given sentience and control by the statuette, which was actually a training device crafted by a long dead society. Ark allowed the warriors to come to him, and slowly began beating them back with careful strikes and precision attacks. One fell, quickly followed by another and then a third. With their numbers so reduced, the other five were quickly leveled by Ark. Ark then bent over and picked up the statuette, replacing it in his pocket before beginning his trek back to the city. This was looking like a good day.

  
  
  

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  This was not a good day. Ark scanned the room, slowly but thoroughly. In his long life, he had learned that scanning quickly or having your eyes dart around the room led to missing important details. Ark didn't want to miss important details. It's not like he was in a hurry; he had all the time in the world. Of course, that didn't stop him from losing his patience sometimes. His current employer was unusually mad: pushy, demanding, soft, and worst for Ark, cheap. Nevertheless, it was a fairly easy assignment, and despite his personal dislike of his client, Ark nevertheless was a professional and would not allow his personal feelings to get the way.
  Ark looked back at his charge, seeing if any threats were approaching from that side, but he ended up staring at his employer for a second. The man was grossly fat, and looked something like a frog. He was currently conversing with two other nobles, less rotund but clearly quite similar in temperment. The man had been raised with everything handed to him on a silver platter, his family living far from the war and dealing primarily in agriculture. Similar, perhaps, to Ark's own childhood in some ways, but Ark liked to think he had come out better.
  Still, it was hardly Ark's place to judge, and he didn't want his current philosophical musings to keep him from the task at hand. Breaking one of the cardinal rules of hiring guards, the noble hadn't paid Ark beforehand, and Ark doubted his ability to get paid if his charge was dead. Noble families usually sought easy targets to take the blame for things they didn't like, and a vagabond mercenary serving as a bodyguard would be a perfect scapegoat. Ark scanned the different section of the room, ensuring that no one over there was so much as looking wrong at his meal ticket. Unfortunately, the noble's vast girth was attracting several stares. Most of them were probably innocent, but Ark had no sure way to tell. Ark sighed and moved closer to his charge, resigning himself to a long day.
  
  
• TheOutlander - Mirrassi
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  Mirrassi awoke to the thunderous clop of horses’ hooves and the creak of wagon wheels. Opening his eyes slowly, he rolled to face the ceiling, his bleary eyes not adjusting well to the sunlight peering through the shades. Mirrassi hadn’t slept well since he came to this metropolis, the people were noisy, and the air was… what’s the word, smoky. It wasn’t that the beds were not comfortable, the one he was on was made out of feathers, fancy that! Feathers! Of course they weren’t nearly as comfortable as the summer mattresses made from Yak fat, but they were comfortable enough. Mirrassi closed his eyes once again, inviting sleep once again, not that he hadn’t had enough earlier, but Mirrassi quite liked sleep, and interrupting sleep was one thing he tried not to do. Rolling over, he felt the unfamiliar form of a woman sleeping next to him, her subtle curves and silky hair again roused him. He was used to sleeping with his dog, Iriqui. Mirrassi missed his soft fur and low breathing, but as Iriqui was turning 14, he would not be able to have made the trip with Mirrassi. Mirrassi again opened his eyes, seeing her golden blonde hair straddle her breasts, as they heaved slightly with each breath she took. Were Mirrassi old fashioned, he would have taken her for his harem, yet, he did not. Rubbing his face with his hands, he felt his clean shaven face, dread filling him as he remembered his once proud beard being shaved because of a flea infestation, but as was the custom down here, he continued ruefully, to shave it. Rolling back around, he reached for the nightstand, grabbing his sketchbook and etach(Pencil) he sat up, and opened his sketchbook, making a slight crackle as it opened. Placing it on his lap, he sketched her sleeping face, each fluid line connecting to another. As he finished it, he tore it out of his notebook, folding it, and leaving it on the counter, with the annotation “Lilli.”
  
  Finally standing, Mirrassi gave himself a once over in the gigantic mirror in his room. Sighing slightly, as he could tell his age is getting to him, his fat layer was steadily decreasing, becoming more streamlined, and more likely to freeze to death. Grabbing his pants, he inched his legs into them as he continued to think, this place being as far away as a month’s ride from his home, and as culturally different as possible. As he secured his pants around his waist, he reached into his bag and procured a small green stone. He placed it on the sketch, as the emerald reminded him of Lilli’s eyes, and he believed a woman of her stature should be treated to things better than what could be made from her wage as a tavern maiden. He walked over and sat down on the other side of the bed, as he pulled the covers over her bare shoulders, he brushed her cheek with the back of his left hand.
  “Pleasant Morning,” Mirrassi whispered, his thick accent broadening his tongue for the statement, giving an exotic, satisfying air to his speech.
  The woman leaned into his hand, yawning and lustily replying “Mmm, good morning.”
  She arched her back to stretch, before lazily attaching her hands around his waist.
  “Sure you can’t stay?” she asked, half asleep.
  “I’m sure,” Mirrassi said softly, “I’m to, how to say… explore, this villiage.”
  She let go of him, and rolled back over. Mirrassi had a sense that she’d wait for him here, not that he asked her to, but he seemed to have a magnetic attraction to the she-folk in this city. Mirrassi was not complaining.
  Placing his tunic on his shoulders, and strapping his boots on, he knelt towards his brother’s Siaph (scimitar) taking the moment, and letting it go, before strapping it to his back.
  Grabbing his messenger bag, he found his sack of sand-spice, taking a pinch and rubbing it against his teeth before washing his face with the warm water provided in his room.
  Turning to see Lilli’s dozing form, Mirrassi said a silent goodbye in case they never spoke again. Opening his door, he trudged downstairs, being led into the new world by the smell of sizzling bacon.
  
  
• Lonna - Lily Deliack
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  Lily's face was impassive as she helped dress Lady Agate. She ignored the excited chatter the delegate and her other maids exchanged, and they had long since learned that she would not join in their conversation. She knew they believed it was because she was being snobbish, but saw no point in correcting them. They were still thinking of her as a former Lady in Waiting first, and a slave second. Lily knew better.
  
  Her task finished, Lily stepped back and caught sight of herself in a full length mirror. Her gown was, for the most part, fairly typical of the summer gowns she had worn for the last eight years. Dark lavender with paler lilac accents, the sleeves were long and puffed to allow the concealment of her long knives. A collar high enough to brush her chin and matching lilac gloves ensured that the only skin showing was on her face. As usual, despite it's somewhat enveloping quality, Her Majesty's dressmakers had used expertly applied accents and specific cuts to ensure that it was also flattering to her figure.
  
  After all, it wouldn't do to give a bad looking slave to the bride on such an important occassion, she thought bitterly. And that of course was the main difference between this dress and those she had worn for eight years. They had no obvious reminders of her status, and she had been able to pretend, to the outside world, that she was just another Lady in Waiting. This dress had wide silver cuffs at the sleeves, and a thick band of delicate silver embroidery circling her throat. It was no more confining than any other dress, and yet she felt as if she was wrapped in chains.
  
  "Come Lily, we must arrive well before the ceremony begins."
  
  "Yes Lady Agate." Obediently Lily retrieved the scroll she would present to the bride and groom when she was given to them. Sitting on a silver pillow, the scroll was an explaination of her training and Gifts, so that her new owners could make the best possible use of her.
  
  Deliberately, with the ease of long practice, Lily pushed away her bitterness and pain. Like it or not, this was her life. She had nothing to go back to, after all. Now that Her Majesty had announced to the world that she was Gifted, trying to go home would simply result in her being caught and sold, mostly likely to a position less pleasant than the guilded cage she currently endured.
  
  Now calm, Lily followed the Lady Agate out with every appearance of meekness.
  
  
• Silverkiss - Julius "Dragonblood" Renfield
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  Julius jumped out of his bed, reaching for his sword. It was only a nightmare, he reminded himself, relaxing. Julius walked to his window, looking outside. It was still dark, but he wouldn't be able to sleep again. Since he had returned home, he had this horrible dreams, dreams of a shadow following him and consuming everything and everyone around him.
  Looking to the stars, Julius tried to calm himself. The day was a special one. He would need to be prepared, it was the most important mission he had ever been given. He could not fail his father's expectations. With his nerves under control, Julius took his usual stuff and went out for a walk, to see if he could clear his mind. Feeling the silence of the night and watching the stars in the sky always helped him calm himself since he was a child.
  
  
• WhiteKnight777 - Wulf One-Eye
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  Wulf's eyes snapped open, and he looked around at the small room in the nondescript inn where he had made his rest last night. Wulf never had that moment of disorientation between waking and sleep that most people experienced - he knew who he was and where he was, whether in dreaming or in the waking lands. He slipped out of bed with catlike grace, standing naked save for the ever-present eyepatch as he gazed out into the morning. It was to be a momentous day, whatever happened. He'd seldom seen a gathering such as this, and Wulf had seen a great deal.
  
  He stood up, dressing quickly, humming an ancient air as he buttoned his ruffled black shirt. After a few moments, he turned and examined himself in the room's small mirror. He liked what he saw. Tall and lean, his face was quite handsome, and his one eye twinkled mischievously. He had dressed for the occasion - his normal clothes were simple, practical and rugged - he had no use for something that would break down after only a few years, or he'd be forever buying new outfits - but he was dressed to kill now - albeit in a different way than was his wont - Tall black leather boots, polished like mirrors, a long cape with the color of a starling's wing, long trousers and a lace-trimmed ruffled shirt to match. He was a good looking man, and he had a certain magnetism, a charisma about him that almost seemed to make the air shimmer. There was a certain dreamlike quality about Wulf - being around him for a while made one drunk. Whatever he proposed simply seemed like a brilliant idea, no matter how much you might regret it afterwords. He rubbed his hands together. The wedding should be fun so many delegates, so many fine folk - not to mention fine food and drink - and so much mischief to make.
  
  With a grin, he set his hat at a rakish angle and started down the stairs. He wasn't precisely invited to the wedding - someone had forgotten to post the invitation, no doubt - but getting past guard's was Wulf's specialty, and he never missed a good party. With a spring in his step he headed down the lane, his one good eye paying special attention to the pretty village girls.. It was going to be a good day.
  
  
• wxdruid - Dom Kyriell
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  Kyriell wakes up early as he does every morning. He drops to his knees beside his pallet, the stones cold against his skin. He bows his head for his morning prayers. He prays for his fallen brethren and for patience for the long day ahead of him.
  
  He slowly rises to his feet, it feels as though the years weigh heavily on him. He pulls on his robes, tying the cincture and putting his holy symbol around his neck. He makes up his pallet and goes to meet those headed over to the wedding. They're already talking about the upcoming event. Dom Kyriell is welcomed into the group, but he doesn't have much to add and he remains silent. He knows there is a lot of work to be finished up before the ceremony and he wants to get it all done on time.
  
  Soon enough, the group heads out, walking to the church. The day feels bright, what he imagines a wedding day should feel like, but the feeling doesn't quite make it to his heart. He wryly smiles and once they're all inside the church, the real work starts. Several brothers are assigned to assist in finishing decorating the church. Others are assigned to help the guests to their seats. Kyriell is sent to the robing area to assist the main celebrant with his heavy ornate robes. He dutifully offers each piece with the proper decorum and prayers. The motions are automatic, the prayers whispered and returned. He knows them all by heart and it takes him back to that 'day'. He remembers that day with an unnatural clarity, it's burned into his memories.
  
  The smell of the horses in the church, the smell of blood spilt upon the altar, the screams and cries of the mortally wounded. His brothers, the ones he could not save. He recites their names in his thoughts, always remembering them, remembering their sacrifice that others might live.
  
  Suddenly, he's brought back to reality, a touch on his shoulder by the priest he was assisting. He looks up, the other man is sympathetic. Dom Kyriell half heartedly tries to smile in apology for his distraction. The priest briefly hugs him and whispers to him his condolences, his sorrow at what happened. Kyriell nods and soon backs away. Everything is ready. He picks up the censer, already filled with incense and looks to the other priest for further instructions.
  
  
• mf11 - Ghelach Dhuulkhaar
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  Ghelach awoke on his pallet in the woods, as he does many days. He marveled at the intricacies of it all, how every single piece works together to make this amazing area. He leaned back against a tree, thinking that he might just stay here the whole day. After all, he had plenty to spare. As his head hit the tree however, his plan was ruined. He had one of his premonitions, a short burst of foresight that tended to ruin his day. This time he saw a city, one that coincidentally, was just on the other side of the woods, and that he knew, though he had forgotten the name. Other than the city, all the vision held was a deep sense of importance, a pulling as though Ghelach HAD to go there. Ghelach sighed. In his long life, he had learned better than to ignore these visions. Somehow or another, they would always come true. It would be easier to go to this city under his own power than to have whatever force causes the vision and his other powers take him there. He quickly packed up his camp, the few pieces of food he had left from his last trip into a city, scattered the campfire, and then began the hike to the city who's name he still can't remember.
  As he walked, Ghelach's mind wandered. First to the oddity of this new, peaceful, era. He found it odd to have been able to sleep out in the open as he had last night, and been able to wake up in the morning. He like it though, the calmness in the cities, the lack of dead bodies in the woods, the simply cheerful air that now accompanied life. Soon after this however, a new thought broke into Ghelach's mind. Oh drat, a fork in the road. hm... now was it left or right last time... oh dear, I can't even remember what the city i'm going to is called, how am i supposed to remember left or right?! oh well, I suppose it'll just have to be left to chance. Ghelach picks up a small rock, and launches it into the air. A small amount of time later, it lands, just to the left of him. Alright, left it is. Ghelach turns to the left and begins following the path, letting his mind wander yet again. I wonder what's so important about this city... Hopefully not the same thing as last time. It took weeks to get the syrup out of my hair. Hey, maybe its a good type of important though! Maybe I get to help save the world, that would be new. about this time, Ghelach came to a dead end in the road. ****! So much for chance helping me out. He turns around, heading back down the road, cursing chance every step. He turns down the right path, still cursing. soon however, he ran out of curses in the 4 languages he knew, and fell silent. soon after, he saw the end of the trees ahead. As he reached the end, he saw in front of him a large town or small city, just as his vision had shown him. he started walking towards it. Nothing involving syrup, please nothing involving syrup. he thought,as he reached the gates. He was let in quickly, and decided that it was time for a drink. He turned into the first inn he saw, one that smelled and sounded like cooking bacon. As he walked in, He saw a man (Mirrassi), shirtless with a shoogal tuur (literally curved sword, or scimitar) on his back. Ghelach quickly glanced around the room, and, seeing no one interesting, walked up to this man. "Haakhec ac hull drull, warrior."

[WhiteKnight777]

Wulf

Wulf walked through the early morning streets, whistling a jaunty tune. The streets were already alive with the bustling of thousand upon thousands of folk, getting good places for the processional - though the best spots were reserved or had people camping in them already - and, of course, selling things to each other. He picked up a cinnamon bun and a glass of juice from a vendor's tray, giving the pretty, bashful girl a gold coin - far more than the price, but he was in a grandiose mood today. She grinned nervously at him and dipped a curtsey, thinking he must be some sort of nobleman - incognito, of course, from his dress, and he returned a gracious nod. He big into the sweet-smelling bun, relishing the stick, sweet honey-and-cinnamon flavor, washing it down with a swallow from the chilled mug.

He moved slowly through the crowd, slipping through it with the ease of many years of practice, worming his way slowly closer to the head of the procession. Grinning, he stared up at the church, then at the guards surrounding it. Now how to get in there - that would be the fun part.

[TheOutlander]

Mirrassi- Having breakfast

Walking down the stairs to the tavern floor, Mirrassi lazily pulled up a stool to the bar, leaning over the counter slightly.
"Why, noble sir, breakfast for you coming up!" The tavern owner said, thin-as-grass, with a way too cheerful in the morning expression.

As the plate of scrambled eggs and bacon was placed on the counter, Mirrassi reached into his bag. As he pulled out a pouch, the tavern owner put up his hands, "No sir, it's free today, that last ruby is going to put my grandchilderen through schola, your money's no good here anymore."
Mirrassi, however continued to open his pouch, and pulled out a small flask of salt, pouring a small bit over the eggs, and then the bacon.
Replacing the flask, Mirrassi began eating, ignoring the cutlery that was set beside him, and scarfed down the food in front of him.
He then sat in silence, for longer than one would think after one finished their meal.
The innkeeper came up to him nervously, as he took his plate away, "Is there an-"
*BELCH!!!*

And with this generous display of courtesy, Mirrassi bowed and walked out, into the giant villiage he knew nothing about.

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This is an easy way to see if you're in the same tavern, if so, might want to comment on the strange man who belched in the inkeeper's face.

[tgva8889]

Marissa Carthwright

Marissa grabbed things from about her room in the house and stuffed them into a small shoulderbag she planned to bring with her. The house was loud as her father yelled through the house to his sons to prepare for travel. Apparently, both of Marissa's older brothers had been invited to the wedding as well. Marissa sighed deep down and smiled a bit at her father's hectic nature.

As she packed, she received a slight bit of dark anticipation in her consciousness. Stop thinking like that. It's not helping me right now. It is not my purpose to "help". I only channel what Salaria bids me to channel. Well, channel something besides coming doom. She tried to block the emotion out, but it was still there, nagging at her. Trying to think of something else, she checked and rechecked her bag. It seemed to be that she had everything. Reaching to her neck, she held her pendant tightly. Her eyes turned down to it and she held it up on her palm.

How long has it been since Salaria came to me? Just as long as its been since you've done something to advance her goals. Don't patronize me. Salaria has given you a gift. You have a chance to pay her back for that gift. You should do that sooner rather than later. Marissa sighed. The Avatar, despite knowing all that Salaria knew, was being cryptic and useless rather than insightful. Marissa breathed deeply and tied her bag shut as she left her room.

Her father and her brothers were standing by the door with their bags waiting for her. The first to speak was her father, in an unusually ragged and annoyed tone, "What took you so long, Marissa? You're the one who asked to come." She responded carefully, "I'm sorry, father. I had to decide exactly what I wanted to bring with me. But I'm ready now, we can leave." Marissa's father nodded to her and held his hand out the door in an almost triumphant manner. "We go, then! Everyone carries their own possessions. Let's go!" As they walked out the door, Marissa took the time to kiss her mother goodbye and grab the spears before they took to the road.

[Silverkiss]

Julius Dragonblood

Julius slapped himself in the face. He was daydreaming again, and that could not be tolerated. At least, not this day. He looked around again, watching the huge ammount of people already in the church's region. This will be tricky... I have a bad feeling. Julius looked to the sides, looking for signs of his sister, but he didn't saw her amongst the other guards. He had arrived much earlier than the schedule, Anya would probably be still in her way. That's what you get for waking up too early. Damn nightmares.

With a quick glance over the growing mass of people, Julius' eyes catch on an interesting person, a well-dressed man with an eye-patch over his left eye. He is strangely magnetic, and Julius can see that he is not a common man. He has an strange... aura about him. Mesmerized by the man, Julius can't help but stare at him.

[ForzaFiori]

Ghelach Dhuulkhaar (my intro)

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Ghelach awoke on his pallet in the woods, as he does many days. He marveled at the intricacies of it all, how every single piece works together to make this amazing area. He leaned back against a tree, thinking that he might just stay here the whole day. After all, he had plenty to spare. As his head hit the tree however, his plan was ruined. He had one of his premonitions, a short burst of foresight that tended to ruin his day. This time he saw a city, one that coincidentally, was just on the other side of the woods, and that he knew, though he had forgotten the name. Other than the city, all the vision held was a deep sense of importance, a pulling as though Ghelach HAD to go there. Ghelach sighed. In his long life, he had learned better than to ignore these visions. Somehow or another, they would always come true. It would be easier to go to this city under his own power than to have whatever force causes the vision and his other powers take him there. He quickly packed up his camp, the few pieces of food he had left from his last trip into a city, scattered the campfire, and then began the hike to the city who's name he still can't remember.
As he walked, Ghelach's mind wandered. First to the oddity of this new, peaceful, era. He found it odd to have been able to sleep out in the open as he had last night, and been able to wake up in the morning. He like it though, the calmness in the cities, the lack of dead bodies in the woods, the simply cheerful air that now accompanied life. Soon after this however, a new thought broke into Ghelach's mind. [I]Oh drat, a fork in the road. hm... now was it left or right last time... oh dear, I can't even remember what the city i'm going to is called, how am i supposed to remember left or right?! oh well, I suppose it'll just have to be left to chance.[/I] Ghelach picks up a small rock, and launches it into the air. A small amount of time later, it lands, just to the left of him. Alright, left it is. Ghelach turns to the left and begins following the path, letting his mind wander yet again. I wonder what's so important about this city... Hopefully not the same thing as last time. It took weeks to get the syrup out of my hair. Hey, maybe its a good type of important though! Maybe I get to help save the world, that would be new. about this time, Ghelach came to a dead end in the road. ****! So much for chance helping me out. He turns around, heading back down the road, cursing chance every step. He turns down the right path, still cursing. soon however, he ran out of curses in the 4 languages he knew, and fell silent. soon after, he saw the end of the trees ahead. As he reached the end, he saw in front of him a large town or small city, just as his vision had shown him. he started walking towards it. Nothing involving syrup, please nothing involving syrup. he thought,as he reached the gates. He was let in quickly, and decided that it was time for a drink. He turned into the first inn he saw, one that smelled and sounded like cooking bacon. As he walked in, He saw a man (Mirrassi), shirtless with a shoogal tuur (literally curved sword, or scimitar) on his back. Ghelach quickly glanced around the room, and, seeing no one interesting, walked up to this man. "Haakhec ac hull drull, warrior." he says with a slight bow, before being taken aback as the man walks right by him, bleches in the face of the inn keeper, and leaves. Ghelach goes up to the inn keeper. Is he usually like that? he asks

[The_Snark]

Ula

Pre-dawn was a good time for hunting, knew the girl. Light enough to see by, dark enough to hide. On another day, she might have been quietly stalking through the trees, checking the rabbit snares she always set in the evening. Or she might have been crouching in a tree near a still pond or creek, bow in hand as she waited for elusive creatures to come to the water to drink their fill.

Today, though, the forest was one of stone, wood, and cobbles. Rather than silence, a quiet bustle filled the air as people, horses, and the occasional cart or carriage made their way along the streets in the grey light. Rather than a tree, the girl was lifting herself onto the roof of a building. A long wooden board she'd found had given her enough height that she could catch the roof edge if she wedged it between the two walls of the narrow alleyway and jumped, and now she pulled herself up, an old drainpipe serving as a handhold. It wasn't the first time she had conquered an obstacle with neither branch nor bark; nevertheless, it was satisfying to Ula.

This accomplished, the girl scrambles across the tilted shingles, eventually perching at the apex of the roof and leaning against the stone chimney. She looks out across the cityscape with great interest—much like with scaling the tallest tree, her new vantage point affords her a new view. She decides she especially likes the chimneys, the way they all stick up past the rest of the house. It was nothing at all like a forest, where the tops tended to be uniform and spread out.

The girl then looks to where most of the noise was coming from. Her chosen seat was a large house, one of the figurative oaks of the city, so she can see over the single row of buildings between her and the street. It was a wedding, she had gathered that much on the road; and it was supposed to end the war. She doesn't understand why that was, but that was all right, Raven had said she didn't need to know. He had been closemouthed last night, even for him.

Wait and watch, child. Had been the only answer he would give. Ula was always child to him, never anything else, although she remembers asking him to call her Ula when she was much younger. She remembers him calling her that, too, but doesn't know if it's real. A lot of her memories of that time are probably imagined, she knows. Her mother, her father, living in a stone house—she'd stayed in houses from time to time, and now when she imagines the house she was born in, she imagines those.

She'd never seen this many at once, though. Raven isn't talking, and as the sun begins to illuminate the tops of those stone chimneys, Ula settles in to watch.

[Ambon]

Intro - Weeks Earlier

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The servant announced the messenger's arrival a few moments earlier giving Arjun time to prepare the cold tea, a small comfort in the sweltering season. He got up and put on the robes of his office as he heard the heavy footsteps of the armoured messenger and moved to meet him in the doorway.
The man brushed aside the silk curtain and stepped in. In full armour, coal black accented by lines and whorls of silver, he could see that he was a messenger from the Monarchs themselves rather than the Bureaucracy. Concealing his slight surprise, Arjun took the ornamental broom that leaned against the doorway and swept the ground before the messenger three times.
The messenger offered a small bow and spoke, "The Way opens before the Unyielding, the Dutiful." He completed the greeting with a sweeping gesture of his hand.
"The Way opens before the Pius, the Pure." Arjun reproduced the gesture and in the same motion replaced the broom next to the doorway.
He looked up now and noticed the messenger, a young man with with dark copper skin and a handsome once-broken nose, was smiling widely. "Anan-Takei, would you permit this messenger to speak informally?"
"For the Monarchy's messengers I would not assume to permit anything, but rather allow everything," he replied cautiously.
The man ignored his suspicion, or perhaps he simply did not notice, and clasped his arm, a brotherly gesture.
A spark of recognition was flamed in Arjun's memory.
"You're Minister Rajiv's son? Narasimhan?"
"Yes! My father wanted me to be the one to tell you."
Arjun gestured towards his desk and the tea, inviting him to sit.
"Tell me what?"
Narasimhan took an large envelope out of his bag and handed it to Arjun. It's seal was enchanted and bore the Divine emblem.
"All of the details are in there. The Monarchs of the Sun and Moon, advised by the Council of Nobles, have selected a delegation to be sent to represent Ailbur at the Calitat-Pulento marriage. You have been summoned, and are to leave for Pacapri a month from now."
Reading the surprise on Arjun's face, the messenger continued "The Monarchs and the Bureaucratic committee want someone in the delegation with your experience in dealing with barbarian cultures as well as negotiation skill."
"I am honoured, of course, and must follow as I am called. And?"
Narasimhan smiled again. "Of course." He took a small lacquered box out of his bag and handed it to Arjun. "Any other messenger could have given you the summons, but my father wanted to thank you personally for assisting him in quelling the trouble at the Shipyards. It is a gift, a barbarian artifact from before the Taming of Ailbur."
From before The Conquest of the Albertion, Arjun thought. He opened the box and saw a small orb, slightly glowing and held in place by gold wire.
"He wishes you good health on your journey and hopes," Narasimhan continued, "that you may think well of him as you tour Pacapri. He believes that you may take some interest in the antique market of Pacapri's ports, and encourages you to contact him if you need any help in that area."
"I am deeply grateful to the Minister. Please assure him that I shall keep him in my thoughts."

A small gift, a bribe Arjun thought after the messenger had left. So, not only a diplomatic delegation, but also an economic one. Father was right to warn me. He held the orb in his hand. It was quite unlike anything he had seen before, and seemed to have it quiet vitality to it. He put it back in the box and resolved to bring it with him when he went to Pacapri.

[Warpfire]

This wasn’t the first wedding Cosad had been to but it was by far the biggest and most lavish. As he approached the church his eyes widened at the thousands gathered outside. It made sense of course, with what this wedding was supposed to accomplish. Namely, a marked decrease in job availability for Cosad. He knew this was an enormously selfish way to think of things, but there was no getting around the fact that if everything went well Cosad would have to find a new way to make money. And with his parents relying on him…

Pushing these thoughts out of his mind, Cosad made his way through the crowd. He recalled where his seat inside the church was: towards the back and out of the way; no doubt he was put there on purpose to avoid having some scruffy looking mercenary overly visible. Not that he was, in fact, scruffy looking. Today he wore a loose, tan dress uniform that appeared well made and taken care of. Though few would recognize it, the uniform was custom tailored to look like that of the old Gifan army. It did stand out as foreign, though.

He took a look around. As he saw people from Calitat among the crowds, Cosad felt a bit uneasy. Some of them gave him hateful looks. Though widely recognized in Pulento as the ‘Hero of Aluen’, those on the other side were more likely to refer to him as the ‘Butcher of Aluen’. He wondered how many of the people looking at him with anger and resentment had relatives he had killed with his own hands or those of others. Cosad tried not to dwell on thoughts like these, but lately he had little work and plenty of time to think about such things.

Again trying to push the worries from his mind, he took another look around. There weren’t many people he recognized, though he had hardly expected to see any of his merc buddies at the wedding. Cosad increasingly doubted he was going to enjoy this ceremony.

[Inspectre]

The suit of armor lying on the bed was so still that a casual observer would likely remark that it had to be empty; left there as a practical joke. But the suit of armor was occupied, and with the first rays of light streaming in through the window it began to stir.

Galen opened his eyes to another day inside his private tomb of iron, but he was not depressed. He rarely had time to indulge in such self-centered emotions, keeping himself involved in politics within Rimehica and – to an ever increasing amount – politics abroad. And certainly today, of all days, there was no room for depression.

Even though he had been sound asleep a few moments ago, Galen’s mind was already turning. He mulled over a dozen options for the day: a dozen stances he could present to the new couple on behalf of the people of Rimehica. As one of the chief representatives from the continent, it was very important that he present the best possible face. The two united nations could prove to be very useful allies, or very dangerous enemies to Rimehica should a faux pas be committed. He would have to be careful to not to insult neither the bride or the groom while ensuring that his contribution to the wedding ceremony was memorable.

On the topic of memorable gifts, Galen had not yet found a truly suitable one. Of course, he had a number of gifts from various nations across Rimehica that he had been authorized to present to the couple, but as yet no gift from him personally. He wanted to make absolutely sure that his gift stood out from the others, hopefully drawing positive attention to himself so that his goal of maneuvering himself into a close associate of the new couple would be much easier to accomplish. Unfortunately, no gift had yet presented itself as special enough to present to a pair of people who had never wanted for anything. And again, care had to be exercised for it was more important that everything go well than for Galen to present an exquisite personal gift that turned out to be insulting.

And now today was the day of the wedding, and Galen’s last chance to find something suitable. It seemed unlikely that he would be able to find anything especially impressive within the festive city right now, but he might as well spend the morning hours before the wedding searching for at least a minor gift that would be complimented and then immediately forgotten rather than showing up empty-handed.

Pushing himself up off the bed, Galen didn’t even bother to straighten the covers as he marched over to the door and let himself out. Like most of the delegates from Rimehica, he had been given modest private quarters within one of the upscale inns near the heart of town, which suited his purposes quite well. He had a few ideas of places to look for what he desired, and so he set out at a determined gait.

Regardless of whether he was successful or not, Galen promised himself that he would be there for the entire wedding. It was sure to be quite the experience.

[Pwenet]

Prologue

• Ambon - Arjun Takei
  • Location: Embassy Lane
  • The Narration:
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    Emerging from the embassy you look up and noticed the crystal clear skies. It was looking to be a beautiful day, perfect for a wedding, which would most likely make the bride very happy. Your agenda for today was pretty much standard duties with some potential contacts, however most of the day was taken up for the upcoming wedding.
    
    Looking around you can see that other people residing in the embassies were also emerging. It would make for a interesting time making it to the actual ceremony with all the people but so far it seems that that the organizers of the wedding were doing a good job with making sure everyone was all set when it came to the invited guests. As for the masses of the common citizens who were attending that was another question entirely.
    
    As you start to wander the streets around embassy lane was it was called you notice that were seems to be a lot more people about today, which was to be honest not whole unexpected.
    
    Then all hell breaks loose.
    
    You are lucky in a strange way that you are relatively by yourself as the city guard seems to go insane all at once. Attacking like one they lash out at the civilian populace, anyone who does not wear the yellow armor of a city guard member. Their blows strike with lethal effect and do not hold back if the person is old, female, or even a child.
    
    You see the various people scatter, screaming in panic while others react and counter-attack. Out of the corner of your eye you can see that a group of dignitaries is taking shelter within an ally even as various guards throw themselves upon the murderous city guard.
    
    Yet even the peace that you find yourself strangely in vanishes in an instant as various guards’ turns towards you. In their eyes you see terror and panic and their faces twitch uncontrollably yet their hands holding the weapons of death move with a deadly grace.
    
• Dorizzit - Ark Tamayus
  • Location: The Golden Feast Hall
  • The Narration:
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    It was a very long day.
    
    The overweight noble didn’t have a care in the world. Grabbing a drink from a passing server he staggered slightly like one who was drunk. All around him other nobles and those with riches and power were laughing. Yet you maintained your somber expression and continued to scan the room.
    
    The area where you were is one the largest feasting of all the Golden Feast Hall. As suggested by the name this is one of the more expensive feasting halls, and more importantly the upper levels had floors that overlooked the path that the princess would walk along and be married on.
    
    Your employer then staggers over to you, his glass sloshing around when something catches your eye. There were city guards all over the place to provide protection, but your ancient eyes can see that some are very green, others are lacking proper equipment at times however they all are armed and are armored with breastplates and helmets. Yet one of them was looking strange, his eyes growing distant before the noble staggered over to you.
    
    ”There you are my loyal bodyguard. Do you want your money? How about you spend some of yours and have a drink, you are making my friends here nervous.”
    
    There is assorted laughter around you as the overweight noble staggers away you notice one of the guards approaching. That is somewhat normal, they have been moving about during the course of the day however this drew his weapon and swung out, sending the head of a serving girl flying through the air.
    
    There is stunned silence for a moment, and then the screams erupt and panic takes over as those who are not used to death and chaos follow their instincts and run.
    
    Looking around you see other guards pulling out their weapons and attack the civilians around them. Yet what scares you is that some of their faces have expressions of terror and their mouths twitch as if they are trying to scream. And it is some of those that are now rushing towards you and your employer.
    
• Inspectre - Galen Sar-Terechou
  • Location: Central Market
  • The Narration:
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    Walking out of the Inn you can see that there is not a cloud in the sky, evidently the weather mages are doing their job very well today. Taking a moment to look you can see that it is already a very busy day. The streets are packed with people from all walks of life and the city buzzes with a feeling of urgency. The only people who are standing still are the various city guards who parade around armed and armored.
    
    As you watch you see two of them gentle grab a man who sighs and hands over a purse. One of the guards takes it while the other gentle slaps on some restraints and starts walking away. Yet this soon fades from your attention as you start browsing the various market stalls that have been set up outside the various stores. You attract many strange stares being the only fully armored person in the area but you were used to those by now.
    
    Looking through the various items at one stall while the woman eyed you strangely as if she expected you to attach her, an ugly sound can be heard. Turning your head you see the shoplifter spit up blood as he looks down in shock at the sword sticking out from his chest. The owner of the sword is the guard, who’s face takes on a strange look as if he is trying to scream out in terror but can’t as he rips the sword out.
    
    The screams of the dying man kick start the instincts of those that do not live in combat, panic and flight. The mass of people turns into a panicked mob and several people slam into you trying to run away as you look around.
    
    Other guards then start attacking various citizens and several of them start to approach you, their eyes screaming out in terror from under their helmets yet their weapons are drawn and dripping with the blood of innocents.
    
• Lonna - Lily Deliack
  • Location: Royal Guest Chambers – Embassy Lane
  • The Narration:
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    Walking out of the embassy holding what is essentially your life in your hands you look around at the free people moving about their lives. Away from the slaves that you were a member of unofficially until recently you see people who have unlimited choices in what they want to do.
    
    Yet you still serve your Queen and keep an eye out for risks. The street you are on is fairly quiet considering the day, for this is the embassy lane. Embassies for various nations are set up all along this lane and there are various dignitaries leaving them and heading evidently for the wedding. The Queen surrounded by her other servants makes her way down the lane with her guards forming and honor guard.
    
    Yet one of them catches your eye. He groans audibly and starts rubbing his head and looks in shock as blood drips from his nose. Pulling off his helmet he shakes his head while the Queen looks at him with a withering glare. Sensing the glare he bows.
    
    ”My lady, there is something, on the guard link. Some kind of noise like a spike being driven in my mind.”
    
    Another guard looks over at him with a contempt look.
    
    ”What are you talking about? My crystal is clear.”
    
    ”It is not on our resonance, I am monitoring the local chatter and it was on the city guard network. And this is not normal noise if my nose is any indication. My lady, we should proceed with caution, something is happening.”
    
    From your training you knew that the helmets of guards contained a magical crystal which linked them together. A guard with a thought could summon reinforcements, know where other guards were and communicate with them. The crystals could be attuned to various resonances and encoded to prevent others from listening in.
    
    The Queen looks at the guard nursing his bleeding nose and nods. They all loosen their weapons and look around with renewed interest as a squadron of city guards approaches. The guard that didn’t have any issues approaches them, a hand resting on his sword.
    
    ”Hail! Is there something wrong with your crystal-URK!
    
    The sudden interruption is caused by a crossbow bolt running through his throat. Falling to the ground he grabs the bolt as he chokes slowly to his death while the honor guard draw free their weapons. Several of them grab the Queen and pull her down and away, shielding her with their bodies and the one with the bloody nose grabs you and shields you. Yet you can see the one member of the city guard, his face trying to twitch as if he wants to scream as his hands smoothly reload the crossbow.
    
    The city guard, easily identifiable by their bright yellow armored breastplates and helmets all seem to go insane and are attacking anyone nearby. Reaching the entrance to the embassy you see that there is already a full out battle going on and the escorts yank you and the Queen around and down an alley.
    
    ”What in the bloody hells is going on here?”
    
    Not realizing he spoke aloud the one guard looks around in terror while the others look around with cold eyes. Trapped within an alley with your Queen next to you and three surviving honor guards. The Captain of the guard looks around the corner and curses and turns back to you and the Queen.
    
    ”My lady, they are approaching. Two of us will hold them off, Lily you escort the Queen. Head for the embassy, it should be safe. Good luck.”
    
    The two guards nod and rush out of the alley leaving you, the Queen and the other guard in the alley. Sounds of furious combat can be heard which start to dim away as the fighting draws away. Looking out you can see that there is a straight shot back to the embassy that would be open, but following alleys it should be possible to sneak around to it.
    
• mf11 - Ghelach Dhuulkhaar
  • Location: Drunken Sailor Inn
  • The Narration:
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    Walking into the building you try to introduce yourself to one of the occupants but he walks out. Yet in that second you sense something odd about him. Turning around you see only chaos outside as men in yellow armor start attacking people. The man you tried to talk to before falls against the outside of the building with a crossbow bolt through his shoulder.
    
    Your vision then wavers and you see the man in the yellow armor fire the bolt, striking the man in his chest. Reality twists and cities explode and there is death across the planet.
    
    Snapping back to reality you see that the man is still alive and is conscious, however you realize that what you just saw is about to happen if you don’t do something soon.
    
• Silverkiss - Julius "Dragonblood" Renfield
  • Location: The Gate
  • The Narration:
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    Standing by the city you take a look around at the crystal clear sky. The Princess was going to be gating in shortly once everything was all set, a symbol of the new unity by using the ancient gates. Walking along you kept an eye out but the city guard were doing a good job of keeping people far away from where the procession would be taking place.
    
    As you walk around you see Anya walking along the processional line. Looking at the barricades and the city guard that are keeping the already considerable crowds under control you see her nod that everything was okay and talk to a nearby member of the city guard. With any luck this would be a peaceful day.
    
    Then Anya screams out.
    
    Turning you see the city guard she was talking to twist the sword that was buried in her stomach and rip it out. Yet she is able to draw her weapon, a short sword and cut the throat of the city guard who just stabbed her.
    
    More screams follow and you see that the city guard are all attack anyone who is not one of them. Man, woman, child, it does not matter as they attack those that they sworn to protect. You see Anya clutching her inner organs as she pulls herself away from the chaos and you find you hands filled with your weapons.
    
    This is not going to be a peaceful day.
    
• tgva8889 - Marissa Carthwright
  • Location: Entrance to the City
  • The Narration:
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    Finally arriving at the city you see your father smile as your little band arrives at the gates. It had been a long trip but at last it was nearly over for now you were at the gates to the city. All around you can see men and women wearing yellow armor which you realize marks them as members of the city guard, protectors of the peace within the city. There are a lot more than you would have expected, however considering what was about to happen today that is not to be unexpected. Looking around at the other people with looking to get into the city you see that they come from a wide variety of cultures.
    
    For the most part the guards are being efficient as they do a basic search of the items being brought in before letting the people pass through.
    
    Then it is your turn. Your father takes the lead, chatting and smiling with the guards who laugh in kind. Yet you feel something strange, deep within your bones that something bad is about to happen.
    
    Your father than screams out a curse and rushes forward at the city guard he was talking you. For a second you wonder what is going on then realize that the city guard drew his weapon. Your father and the guard struggle while other city guards pull out their weapons.
    
    I am sorry. Get ready to run.
    
    The guards then start attacking the people in the line. Anyone in their path is not spared. One of your brothers screams in pain as his arm is cut viciously open while your father continues to struggle with the one guard. He takes a look around and with a sigh his hands move and the guard is clutching his throat as his blood leaks through his fingers.
    
    As your brother screams out in pain as his arm dangles uselessly at his side your father approaches you all, holding a newly acquired sword dripping with blood.
    
    ”A madness has infected the guards, you must flee. Now!”
    
    One of your brothers does just that while your father looks over at the other guards attacking the other civilians. You know that he is torn, that he feels the need to help those, but that he wants to protect you all as well. Yet there is the strong sense that you are here because of this insanity, that you are destined to be a part of it.
    
    By this point the guards are starting to focus their attention towards the rest of you. Your father sighs and stretches and does some practice swings with his new sword and approaches the guards oncoming that are not involved attacking the other civilians around you.
    
    ”Run! RUN!”
    
• The_Outlander - Mirrassi
  • Location:Drunken Sailor inn
  • The Narration:
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    Walking out of the Inn you ignore a goblin that yammers in your face. What a goblin was doing here you have no idea but it would probably be something that does not concern you. Emerging into the street you see the hustle and bustle of the population moving about preparing for the ceremony.
    
    Yet there was something wrong. Instead of people preparing they were screaming in terror. Looking around you see men in yellow armor attacking the innocents, decorating their weapons with their blood.
    
    Then you stagger back and look down to see a crossbow bolt sticking out of your upper left chest. Blood slowly leaks from the shaft of the bolt and you can hear the scrape of the metal head against the building you are leaning on suggesting that it emerged out your back. Looking up you see your brother approaching, laughing at you lying on the ground, helpless like a baby when he sacrificed himself for you all those many years ago.
    
    Blinking the vision wavers and you then see one of the men in yellow armor approaching, reloading his crossbow. Your left arm goes numb and you find yourself unable to move it. Yet your right hand is still good and despite the pain radiating from the wound your thoughts are clear and the man in the yellow armor is moving so very slowly as he fires another arrow towards you.
    
• The_Snark - Ula
  • Location: In the Jungle of Civilization
  • The Narration:
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    Rushing along the rooftops you watch with interest everyone moving about. Most of what they are doing passes over your head however it seems that everyone is exciting for what is about to happen today. That is why you are bouncing along the rooftops trying to find a good view of the upcoming events.
    
    Hearing a shout below you look to the side and see a man in yellow armor screaming at you. They don’t like you running along the rooftops and frequently try to catch you however most of those that do try to catch you are fat and slow, thus very easy to escape from.
    
    This one is no different and you slide along the shingles down into a alley and run blindly along for a bit before you dive into a crowded street, effectively hiding yourself from the man in the yellow armor. Slipping between the various legs you quickly find a spot to climb into a stall and back onto the roofs.
    
    Following the main mass of people you see more and more people gathering around a long street leading to what appears to be one of the tallest structures. Tall spires reach towards the heavens with large painted glass windows that stretch along the building. Down on the ground there are several stairs set up with a podium that several people can stand on. The yellow armored men are keeping people away from a street that stretches from the steps to a round object standing by itself.
    
    Child – Prepare yourself! I’m sorry.
    
    Raven voice echoes around you as you look around, trying to see what he is talking about. All you can see are people milling about, men in yellow armor and a clear sky. Then the screams reach you.
    
    The people in the streets start running all over the place while the men in the yellow armor start attacking them. While you are too far away to make out details you can see blood starting to run along the ground and the bodies of the dead lying on the ground.
    
    Child – Listen to me now! It is starting! Run along the roofs, you must save her!
    
    You start running along the rooftops and you noticed that you are heading towards an area where the buildings look more impressive. From your scouting you noticed that they had many people, but not nearly enough to fill the buildings. Everyone wore really nice clothes and they had great food that they didn’t like to share. It was as if they were important.
    
    As you run the screams of the dying reach your ears, indicating that whatever made the yellow armored men angry they all are being really mean.
    
    STOP!
    
    Coming to a stop you find yourself overlooking an alley. Down below are two women dressed in really strange dresses with a man who is wearing blue armor. Outside the alley there are various people fighting against the men in the yellow armor, but many of them seem to be losing badly.
    
    You must save the her! If she tries to lead them through the fighting they will die and that can not happen. Guide them along the back ways you know well, that will save them for now.
    
    Looking around you realize that you passed this way before several days ago and you are confident that you can make your way through the various back alleys to anywhere else possible.
    
• Warpfire777 - Cosad Obutar
  • Location: VIP Entrance to the Church
  • The Narration:
    Spoiler

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    Looking around you find yourself standing outside the church near the entry gate that would be used for people like yourself who will be allowed to enter the church, and more importantly have a seat within it. This means that you will get to avoid the worst of the crowds and instead have to work with people you hated you.
    
    In fact looking around you don’t see any friendly faces, just glares towards you as people recognize you and looks of indifference. Yet in the spirit of the event people are being civil for the most part and stick to those that they actually like.
    
    As the line of people you are in moves through the side entrance you look over the guards who are checking people into the church. Clad in the standard yellow armor of the city guard you notice that they all shared wear the same breastplate and helmet, with various weapons among them over the standard armor. It seems that the city is stretching itself to support this event but so far the peace is holding and the city guard are mostly busy with petty crimes.
    
    Your eyes look over the guards and you notice their faces starting to twitch. That would not be unusual in of itself except that they did it at the same exact time. Their eyes take on a look of panic as their hands move and you barely have time to jump to the side as their weapons come free.
    
    A pair of nobles, husband and wife you guess barely have time to scream before they fall to the ground clutching vicious gaping wounds. Their young child starts to scream out in terror before his head flies away from his body. Most of the people in the line with you are not soldiers and their reaction is pure panic while you manage to get yourself clear of the immediate threat and prepare yourself.
    
    A quick look around reveals that all six of the city guard that were by the entrance are now attacking civilians and anyone nearby. Out of the people in the line only yourself and another man with a eyepatch are able to get out of the killing field quickly. Yet what is even worse is that their faces twitch as if they are trying to scream out in terror but they can’t
    
    Today is not a good day.
    
• WhiteKnight - Wulf One-Eye
  • Location: VIP Entrance to the Church
  • The Narration:
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    Moving through the crowds with a easy grace you find yourself making your way far closer to the church than people without the proper permits should be able to. Most of the time it just takes looking like you belong there. Yet now you were at the point where you would actually have to enter the church. The main entrance was out of the question yet you noticed various people making their ways to side entrances. Most of them had the look of nobles and other people of importance however there were those that had the look of a hard life work among them.
    
    Thanks to that it was very easy to slip into the line. Noticing that many of the people in the line were pulling out papers you realized that may be a problem, yet a quick conversation and some deft fingers resolved that issue nicely.
    
    Looking around at the various people you notice one figure, clad in a simple uniform yet he looks around at the other people with a look of boredom and slight confusion as if he does not belong there. You start to focus around at the various nobles include one with a very attractive daughter who smiles at you.
    
    It is that smile that she leaves this world with.
    
    The city guard, clad in their yellow uniforms and armor are protectors of the peace. You have been enjoying your games of tag with them and so far you are winning easily, yet they still persistent at times. Yet those by the gates should not give you any trouble, especially since they are all twitching in unison.
    
    Actually that is really not a good thing at all.
    
    Especially since they are drawing weapons and just killed the pretty girl.
    
    Out of the people in the line you are a part of only the one man you noticed earlier reacted without panic. He instead got out of the way to gather his wits like you are as the various guards start their murderous song. A few of them start looking at you and start approaching, their faces telling a far different story than their bodies do.
    
• wxdruid - Dom Kyriell
  • Location: VIP Entrance to the Church
  • The Narration:
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    As the memories fade back towards the place in your mind where they always rest the head priest nods towards you.
    
    ”How about you go to the side entrance, help those that are arriving to their seats. Maybe get a little fresh air outside.”
    
    Bowing to him you head towards one of the side entrances where those that were invited to see the actual ceremony were entering. As you approach it you nod at the various acolytes that you see performing their duties. Everyone is ready for the wedding yet there is always the moment before the wedding where everyone wonders if things will go wrong.
    
    Approaching the side entrance you hear sounds. Sounds of fighting, sounds of pain, sounds of death. Looking through the doorway you see the city guard attacking the nobles, civilians, anyone who is no them. Already there are bodies of the dead and dying lying on the ground with others either running away or trying to put some distance between themselves.
    
    For you coming from within the church they have not yet noticed you, giving you freedom to do what you think best at this time.
    

[WhiteKnight777]

Wulf One-Eye

Wulf was returning the girl's smile. A pretty young thing, she'd caught his eye a time or two before and now he'd caught hers - his answering grin was just right. A touch of mischief and mystery, the right amount of forbidden allure - the day was already getting interesting.

And then she died, bleeding her last onto the street. Wulf moved without thought, instincts ingrained by too many battles to remember, and he found a shortsword in his hand - a plain, workmanlike weapon - yet something wasn't right here. This wasn't simple treachery. He smelled something else - they way they moved in unison, the suddeness, the coordination... most of all the look in the eye and the jerkiness of their limbs. He rushed forward, moving like a ghost, his footfalls barely touching the earth as he blurred through the crowd. The butt of his sword came up, smashing into one of the guard's faces. Stooping to avoid what, to him, was a clumsy sword blow, he came up with a guard's truncheon, and began to lay about him in the midst of the guards, using the club, the flat of the blade, the hilt. He wasn't aiming to kill, and would do so only to protect lives.

Someone was playing headgames, and he intended to find out who. The fighting was easy enough - Wulf wasn't much stronger than any man, but his grace was uncanny, and he flowed around the guard's blades like water, thinking even in the midst of combat. He needed to find the bride and groom - like enough they'd be targets... And perhaps someone close to one or both of them would be behind this.

[The_Snark]

Ula

So the yellow-armored men really were dangerous, Ula notes as she peers over the roof, not bothering to crouch down (they had plenty of people to kill down there). She'd been wondering what they would do if they caught her, and had debated waiting for one to see. Raven hadn't warned her away from them, and he usually did that when things were dangerous, but then again he trusted her not to run into a bear den, either. Dangerous or not, though, they were laughably bad at catching people, since they had to go all the way around buildings, and she could just go right over them until she was out of sight, so she hadn't bothered to worry. It was fun to run over the rooftops and listen to them shout furiously, actually.

And now they'd started to kill people, which didn't really surprise Ula. That was what soldiers did. These people ought to have known better than to get too close to all those soldiers. She feels no surprise, or shock, or even fear.

She does feel a little annoyed at Raven for not telling her what she was supposed to be doing earlier, but that was for later. For now, she obeys her guardian, crouching and dropping off the alleyway onto the cobbles behind the three. It wasn't any harder than jumping out of a tree: stone was harder than dirt, but there weren't any sticks or roots to hit either.

"You're going to die if you go out there," Ula announces herself, stating it like it's an obvious fact. Pigs can't fly, you know. Water will make you wet if you touch it. She regards the three people dubiously, as if they might not know such things. She made no claim to understand people who lived in cities, who looked out at a battle and weren't already running.

[Dorizzit]

Ark responds to the noble's offer of money with a gesture that would be interpreted to mean "no" but about four hundred years ago had meant "you're a worthless drag on humanity." No one in the room was likely to know this, but Ark mentally chuckled at his little joke. "Thank you, but I can't accept money until my contract has been fulfilled." Ark may have an intense dislike of his contract, but that didn't mean he wouldn't honor it. Great. Watching over a drunken fool. The biggest danger to him here is... At that moment guards begin attacking civilians. ...them. Wonderful. Ark charges a nearby group of soldiers. Ietey Akatanou Selgioth! Ark feints a lunging punch at one, but pulls down, rolling into a handspring to deliver a double footed kick, knocking his opponent out. He then ducks the counterattack and spin kicks an opponent's foot out from under him. Ark rises again with a devastating uppercut, before sidestepping a vertical slash from his final opponent and knocking him out with a roundhouse kick. Ark then dashes backwards, going over to the noble he was assigned to guard. The man is panicked and collapsed. "Listen to me! I'm going to get you out of here, but I won't be going with you. When you get home, make a document willing the sum of what you owe me to a man who says 'Kaelnoth' before requesting payment. I will collect some day. Now think of home. Are you thinking of home? Good. Close your eyes..." Ark pulls a small orb out of his pocket and sprinkles it over the man. And then his charge is gone, returned to his home. Ark stands, and cracks his knuckles. Something this exciting hasn't happened in a long time. He charges at some nearby soldiers. Ietey Akatanou Selgioth! Ark begins wreaking havoc, seeking out and subduing every guard he finds. He eventually manages to clear the Golden Feast Hall. Then he heads into the rest of the building, aiming for the main floor.

[Silverkiss]

Julius Dragonblood

Julius' first reaction is to unsheat his katana, ready to charge at the closest guards in fury. However, Julius maintains his calm, and sheats his blade back as he sees his sister flee into safety. She can take care of herself. I must protect the people here.

With his eyes still burning with rage, Julius graciously avoids a sword blow from a guard, knocking him uncounscious with a well given punch to the face moments later. Pushing another guard to the ground with a kick to the chest, Julius looks around to the chaotic situation the city got into. What the hell is happening here?!?

[ForzaFiori]

Ghelach Dhuulkhaar

Ghelach wobbles slightly as the visions hit him. The constant changing had thrown off his senses. As they cleared, He sees the man outside, still alive. Realizing he has little time, Ghelach runs to the door, grabbing the man's arm. Quckly, inside! You must hurry, your life depends on it! Strange, yellow-armored men are coming, and you will die if you stay here! Ghelach pulls on the mans arm, trying to get him inside the inn.

[Ambon]

Arjun struggled with the panic and disgust that threatened to overtake his calm. Watching the slaughter around him was bad enough, the needless violence made him ill almost to the point of paralysis, but worse than that were the guard's faces. Their faces contorted in terror as they approached him he let the wave of fear they inspired pass over him, through him, and then he was ready.
He assessed his situation. Unarmed and unarmoured, separated from his diplomatic group he could not hope to hold his ground alone. His hand went to the ceremonial sword he wore. His real sword he left behind in his room, with his dueling armour and the rest of his equipment. He glanced and saw the way there was closed to him now, a trio of the maddened guards were cutting down anyone exiting that building. But the wooden sword was not utterly useless - a gift given to him by a craftsman thankful for his intervention, it was superbly constructed and not wholly wooden but instead reinforced with bronze. Though it was incapable of doing any damage at least he could parry with it, his meagre experience as a duelist gave him that much, and his lack of armour might even be to his advantage.
He made a quick decision and, steeling himself against panic, drew the useless sword and ran full speed towards the dignitaries who were trying, with their guards, to defend themselves. He hoped he was fast and agile enough to evade the city guard approaching him. His hope now was with them.

[Lonna]

Lily Deliack

Lily took in the possible avenues of escape, her habitually serious expression deepening into a frown. The most direct route was far too exposed, but it would be all too easy to get lost or ambushed in the narrow alleys. Then again, with only two fighters in their group, it would be easy to surround them even in the open.

"Appologies Majesty, but I need you to hold these," she said, abruptly thrusting the scroll on its silver pillow into the Queen's hands. In one smooth motion, Lily pushed up the cuffs of her sleeves and drew both of her long knives. She turned to the last remaining member of the honor guard, the one who had first detected something wrong. Somewhere in the back of her mind she also recognized him as the guard who had shielded her in the initial attack and wondered vaguely why he had bothered, but that was a question for another time. Now she needed to get the Queen to safety.

"We'll take the side alleys and try to work our way back to the embassy. I'll go first; you bring up the rear. If you see an archer, yell out the location to me before you do anything else. This is very important; I can stop arrows, but only if I know where they're coming from." Without bothering to explain further, she turned back to the Queen. "Please follow me."

Taking a quick look around to get a firm grip on her sense of direction, Lily headed for the nearest alley that would take her approximately the right way.

[Warpfire]

There is no thought, only swift movements and subconscious calculations. No time for surprise and confusion as Cosad produces a pair of pistols from within his loose clothing and fires away. One guard takes a most likely fatal round to the neck, while his other target gets a wound on his leg. Perhaps he would have been more careful to not kill them if he had taken time to consider the situation, on the other hand perhaps not.

It was clear that what was going on involved magic, Cosad realized as he took a brief moment to study events while putting away his twin guns. The strange unified twitching and inexplicable nature of the attack pointed to it. But there was still no time to contemplate. The mercenary glances over and notices the one-eyed man fighting the remaining guards. Rushing over, he draws what appears to be a decorative scimitar from an equally ceremonial-looking sheath.

Despite appearances, the weapon was far from just a decoration. However, Cosad wasn't using its razor-sharp edge just yet, instead clubbing at the backs of the guards' heads with the pommel of his scimitar. Seeing the one-eyed man as a potential ally, Cosad had decided to go nonlethal so as to avoid angering the man. He had the feeling he was going to need all the help he could get.

[wxdruid]

Dom Kyriell

Dom Kyriell stares outside at the slaughter. He turns and pulls the closest acolyte to him and urgently tells him to run and inform the archbishop that something is terribly wrong and he needs to secure the church. He ends with, Bar the doors, keep the city guards outside, at all costs, keep the guard outside. When the acolyte stares at him, he gently pushes and when he still doesn’t move, shoves him in the right direction. The acolyte stumbles off.

Kyriell turns to the outside once more, the healer side of him calling out to help. He closes his eyes, just for a second, and the screaming continues, pulling at him. He turns back, finds another soul doing errands inside the church. He pulls them over. You must hold this door, no matter what, don’t let anyone inside, including me. Don’t let them in. It’s hard, very hard. He knows that many people will die on the streets if the doors are closed tightly, but…if it keeps the killers out of the church and the people inside the church from dying.

Dom Kyriell, knowing he is probably about to die, slips outside, one thing is sure in his mind. If he dies, he will be joining his brethren.

He finds the closest wounded person and kneels down beside them. He lays his hands on them and concentrates on them, heedless of the blood soaking through his white robe where it presses against the ground. When they stabilize he will move them closer to the walls of the church, preferably behind columns or cover before he cautiously ventures out again to find another. He repeats the process over and over until he’s noticed.

[Lonna]

Lily Deliack

"You're going to die if you go out there," Ula announces herself, stating it like it's an obvious fact. Pigs can't fly, you know. Water will make you wet if you touch it. She regards the three people dubiously, as if they might not know such things. She made no claim to understand people who lived in cities, who looked out at a battle and weren't already running.

The sudden voice made Lily whirl, blades at the ready, before she realized she was being addressed by a child and lowered the weapons.

"We don't plan to go out in the open," she said mildly, watching the girl warily. "But we also don't know the alleys well. Would you be willing to guide us to the embassy by the safest route?" She pointed to the building in question, not sure that this oddly dressed girl would know what she meant otherwise.

[TheOutlander]

Mirrassi

Walking outside, Mirrassi felt an impact. Looking down, he saw a bolt sticking out of his chest, peircing the furs and scale-mail he wore with little effort.
He looked for the thrower of this weapon, and saw a man in yellow armour, holding a rediculous looking contraption, and while Mirrassi fell to his knees, the yellow armoured man loaded another bolt onto the weapon.

As the yellow armoured man raised his weapon to fire again, Mirrassi felt a tug, a tug by the goblin trying to speak with him earlier. Mirrassi wasn't sure what he was saying, but he could figure that the goblin wanted to drag him to saftey.

Mirrassi followed along, throwing himself back into the shelter of the Inn, it was not honorable, but it was tactical. And by the numbing of his left arm, Mirrassi knew he would need the extra quarter second to unsheathe and swing his brother's Siaphe through the assailant's neck.

Mirrassi wondered, just what he did to set this man off? he looked quizically at the goblin and nodded his head towards the door.
"What did I do?" He asked, his accent shining through as he felt both threatened and rushed.
as he looked the goblin in the eyes, he stuck out his toungue and said the following blessing.
"Thien hel’bet rosharch su plet."

He waited for the man in yellow to burst through the door, so he could show the men of the west what the men of the north trained all their lives to do.

[ForzaFiori]

Ghelach Dhuulkhaar

"I do not think you have time to worry about what caused this, good warrior. More important is 'How are we getting out of here?'" Ghelach points out to the odd man, as he readies his spear and shield. Though I do agree that sometimes I wish I knew why Dhuugaan does this to one he seems to like every other minute of the day.

[TheOutlander]

Mirrassi

Listening to the goblin's take on all of this, Mirrassi only looked back to say "Angels danced when you were born."

Knowing that there was some miracle in this goblin, it was only a matter of time to figure out what. Mirrassi continued waiting, but realized there was most likely a reason that his arm was numb, which was the shaft that poked through his upper chest. He would have to deal with that, and fast.

[Ambon]

Arjun stumbled his way towards Lily and her group waving his sword, now more like a battered and gilded stick, while ignoring the gashes and bruises he acquired on his way to them.
"Wait! Wait!"
He slowed as he got closer, stopping abruptly to rest on his word and catch his breath. Glancing upwards to take a first close look at his fellow survivors, Arjun quickly realizes the status of his audience and attempt to regain some poise.
"Blessed Majesty and fellow nobles," he said, bowing to the group, "I have been separated from my group in this chaos, and it seems that you've been separated from most of your guard as well. Perhaps I can be of some assistance?"