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| Abductions and Lies; 1st RRDC, 3rd RRD | |
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| Topic Started: Oct 3 2008, 03:56 PM (3,421 Views) | |
| Gordreg | Jan 22 2009, 11:17 PM Post #71 |
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Administrator
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Melissa had been quick to speak up and take over from her when she herself had flagged, and for that Eleanor found herself thankful. The room might have been dark, but the blazing embers over in the corner at least kept it quite warm... Eleanor sank further into her chair without realising, trying to listen to the ongoing conversation. But the words were only half-heard, and as she relaxed backward Eleanor let her eyes close for a moment... ... And opened them again quite hurriedly, Eleanor forcing herself back to a state of upright wakefulness as soon she realised what she'd almost done. Moons; she'd almost fallen asleep in the chair! Apparently she was far more tired then she'd either thought or felt before now; her one consolation being that Melissa appeared to be talking to the Lady Knear about spells. Hopefully that meant she hadn't been out for much longer then a minute, if even that. And just as well, for with a graceful turn of her head the Lady Knear turned her attentions back Eleanor’s way. Eleanor straightened her back further; worried that the Lady Knear might have caught her dozing – but if the Lady had then she made no mention of it, instead engaging Eleanor in a conversation which, whilst outwardly commending her, nonetheless gave Eleanor the impression of a rebuke for not sharing in her passion for the magical arts. “Lady Knear, I consider the powers of magical energy to be a part of the natural world; a branch of the physics and not a vague force to be held separate and above them.” Eleanor finally answered, her tone calm and hiding a slight melancholy for the scolding it felt as though she’d received, and her own slight disappointment at the Lady Knear for not giving her subject the credit that she felt it deserved. But then; Eleanor supposed that most scholars of other subjects would hold a preference for their own area of study. “Indeed, the study of magical energies is a worthy one… but I would hold it to be as worthy as any other of the sciences.” She continued, smiling carefully in the hope that she would not upset the lady by simply giving her opinion. “A scholar might study the powers of a silver moonstone for many a decade before learning how to channel that energy for Eternum; yet the Gravers of south-ocean call upon such powers without any scholarly intellect to drive them. We…?” Eleanor paused mid-speech, suddenly bewildered as the Lady gave mention to her one spell, her mouth falling open in surprise. How in the six moons had the Lady Knear known of that? It was quite bewildering, and distinctly unsettling. Her eyes were wide for a moment, and they blinked uncertainly as the Lady Knear went on to answer the question she had not yet asked. And if anything, the answer she gave was even more surprising. Eleanor blinked again; uncertain is she’d really heard that right. Or perhaps that was just the feeling of tiredness gathering about her eyelids? She mustered an answer upon her lips, an enquiry of sorts as to why that was the case… But before she could ask, the Lady Knear gave an ill-sounding cough that put an end to any thoughts of further discussion. Eleanor certainly no longer felt in any mood to debate with or question the old lady, especially as she had been kind enough to offer them both rooms for the night. A very welcome gesture indeed, and Eleanor returned an unpractised curtsy of her own – made difficult by the Armadaman’s trousers she had borrowed after their rescue. “May the moons bless your sleep!” Eleanor called out after the departing Lady Knear; though whether or not her voice had been heard remained an unknown. Then she turned to Melissa. “I think I’ll turn in as well, actually.” Eleanor nodded, her eyes blinking once again. Her face was starting to feel as heavy as her limbs had felt when she’d woken, and there was definitely a suppressed yawn building somewhere inside of her. “And since Lady Knear was kind enough to offer… that is; if you wouldn’t mind?” Eleanor asked. No matter how peculiar the Lady Knear’s knowledge of them was, she had been most welcoming to two unexpected guests, and her offer was still far preferable then anything that the ‘mayor’ had taken a hand in. Stepping out of the room, the stairs were quite easy to find. They were hardly grand or sweeping but they were wide enough, the steps distinguished stone no doubt cut from some Valuan hillside, and the rails were carved from some polished wood that really felt very good to the touch. Eleanor made her way carefully up them, keeping one hand upon the rail at all times as she made her way to the top. Just as the Lady Knear had said, there was a pair of doors; one on either side of the corridor to the left of them. Making her way over, Eleanor reached for the doorknob of the further of the two rooms and turned it before pushing the door carefully open. Inside, the room was quite dark. Feeling the nearest wall for a lamp-switch Eleanor failed to find one – instead only finding a hanging rope that she presumed would call the butler if pulled, and so walked further into the room as her eyes slowly adjusted to the light. There was a window upon the far wall that looked out toward the north, and Eleanor wondered for a moment if in daylight it would give a view of the brighter skies beyond the cloudbanks. Right now, there was very little to see from it aside from distant yellow sparks of energy crackling faintly somewhere above them. Turning away from the window, Eleanor resumed looking around the room. There was a bed upon either side of the room, the one furthest from the door an ancient-looking four-poster with curtaining and a multitude of carved decorations. And whilst the other bed looked more modern in comparison, there was still no doubting that it was very much an antique as well. Close to the end of each bed she could see a comfortable chair, and the room was rounded out by chests of drawers right behind the open door and a tall cupboard lurking in the corner. “Goodnight, and may the Moons watch you…” Eleanor called out in a slightly mumbly voice, sitting down upon the plainer of the two beds as she did so. Right now the clothes she stood up in were effectively all the worldly possessions she had, and she felt no desire to change out of them. They’d been creased enough anyway; sleeping in them wouldn’t really change very much. Either she’d find something new to wear tomorrow, or else she’d just keep wearing these until her own wardrobe had been recovered from wherever it was now. Eleanor slowly lay backward until her head rested upon the comfortable pillow, her mind slowly turning thoughts over within it. But they were getting thinner and fainter, and now her consciousness was filling with a parade of strange faces and Gravers and the Lady Knear’s bright broach… Quietly, now very much asleep, she started to snore. |
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| Necromancer Sargoth | Jan 24 2009, 04:27 AM Post #72 |
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Affably Evil
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Melissa had just been prepared to bring up the university’s research into the latent magical vinculum existing in all organic beings when Lady Knear began to cough and rose to excuse herself. A look of astonishment crossed the Lady Vander’s face as her hostess illuminated the room using two spells at once in silence. In all her years, Melissa had only known one sorceress powerful enough to simultaneously pull off a multicast in silence, Delphine Maris, the headmistress of the university and Melissa’s mentor. She suddenly felt uncomfortable having never before heard of Knear, a woman of such power should have been legendary within the academic community. She wracked her brains to recall some reference to this sorceress, but failed. She made a mental note to ask Delphine of her; surely the two had been contemporaries. Having already recognized Lady Knear’s skill, her great age came as no surprise to Melissa. Actually, it was a comfort. Had a young woman surpassed herself in nearly every way as a mage, Melissa would have been utterly devastated. She still appeared thunderstruck when Eleanor too announced she would be leaving. “Oh? Hm?” Melissa uttered, finally shaking back to her senses. She scrambled to regain her usual poise. “Yes, of course. Pleasant dreams, Eleanor. I shall follow you up shortly. Good night.” Melissa watched the younger woman depart, her eyes absently tracking Eleanor’s shadow as it danced behind the biologist. The log cracked in the hearth, and the fire spit causing the mage to jump in her chair. She slumped down, deep into the plush upholstery, and sighed. “Just the fire,” she muttered to herself, pressing her palms into her eyes to rub the drowsiness away. For the longest time, Melissa just sat in Lady Knear’s parlor watching the fire dance around the dwindling logs. She thought back on the events of the day, each strange turn and twist, hoping she would just wake up in her own bed back in Vander Rock. She wished she were a girl again, before the Rains, before everything, just sitting on the floor in front of a fire with Illius, listening to her grandfather tell stories of heroic kings and indomitable women, the greatest of House Vander. She felt small now, small and weak. She buried her face in her hands and allowed herself to cry, praying no one would hear. By this time the fire had grown low again. Her head still throbbed, hands still ached. She had a dull pain in her chest where a guard had struck her. Finally, she dried her tears and rose, feeling slightly better, but a little ashamed. The path to the room was nothing remarkable; the inside of yet another noble house, this one slightly shabbier than what Melissa herself was used to being in. She felt she understood Lady Knear’s ill temperament a little more now. A woman of her talent and skill deserved far better than some rotting manor perched over nowhere. She surely deserved the pride of her kin; Melissa resolved to ask Captain Knear about his relation, if she ever saw the man again. Melissa found the rooms without much trouble; she only got lost once. The first door she opened belonged to Eleanor’s room. She realized her mistake once the door was cracked and she heard the snores of the slumbering biologist come from within. Melissa shut the door quietly, muttering soft apologies to the sleeping woman. The other room was thankfully vacant. She closed the door softly, latching it behind her. One could never be too careful in a strange place, after all. The room had modest decoration, but the furnishings were old and regal. A double bed, dressing bureau, small mirror, and a writing table were all the furnishings the room contained. Lady Vander examined herself in the mirror. She looked strange in the ill-fitting military coveralls. In the morning she would ask for some decent clothing, especially if she would be stranded in this backwater for a time. She wondered if Lady Knear would permit her to bathe in the morning. With a heavy sigh, Melissa sank into the old feathery bed. It did not take her log to sink into slumber, dead to the world. |
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| Ranger | Jan 26 2009, 08:42 PM Post #73 |
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Previously Nex Terren
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"Now," The rogue smirked, face and voice all charm. "Is 'Captain James' really that hard to remember?" He shut his eyes and took a deep sniff of the air. The sharp smell of moonstone discharge mixed with gunpowder was pleasing to the man, and he savored it for a moment before stuffing the smoking pistol back into his belt. In the same instant that he paid the man's soul respect with a nod, he made a mental note in the back of his mind that he'd have to reload his weapon. "But you know," He began, tossing something down on the body, "it's only fair that I answer the man's question!" 'Captain James' shouted his words, words fit for a lord's mouth at a Jousting Tournament. Everyone on board heard his bellow and more than a few gave their captain wide-eyed attention. More than a few nervously did their best to ignore the man and his gun. James's mouth twitched in a slightly greater smile at this sight. Did they really think that he cared? He shrugged at this notion. Briefly his hand ran over clean-shaven face before he turning attention back to speaking to the men. "Four hundred and ninety nine times. That's how many times I've flipped this coin. Four hundred and ninety nine times. Now; why?" He presented the golden treasure above his hand. The yellow moon--the only glow that illuminated the ship's deck--made the gold surface look more so, and cast a shimmering highlight on the stamped-out woman's face. "Because every one of those times I got tails! Because everyone of of those tosses were kissed by lady luck herself; her telling me to stay with the plan. Because lady luck is my mistress. This coin? You could call it her messenger. You could call it her prophet. I just call it blasted luck." With coin held high, he turned about, making sure everyone could see the mark. See that, and the wild look now in his eyes, with a fool's grin to match. Was he mad? No, most certainly not; he just enjoyed life like most men only wished they could. He only took advantage of that life, more than any other man thought possible. And with luck on his side, what could stop him? That was why they followed him: his luck. They would follow him for a charge against the valuan armada itself just because of his luck. Well, there had been one soul on board who had thought otherwise, and he had just made the mistake of calling him by... for the briefest of instants, a sneer passed across his face. He hated that name... The armada... they couldn't catch him. Oh no, not one like him. Their problem was that they tried to figure everything out. Planed and stratagized until they had a fool proof plan. Then, just in case, they wrote up four more. And of course, they would all be worth nothing. They thought everything could be figured out. In truth, nothing could. Everything, everything was up to chance. Beautiful, wonderful chance. The coin tumbled up high into the air once more. Dancing between being lost to the night sky, and shining the moon's yellow glow as to be second brightest thing to be seen, every sailor there found it hard to keep their eye on it. Captain James wouldn't know; he didn't even bother to glance in the coin's direction. Without looking he snatched it out of the air and slapped it hard on his wrist. With expectation he bore holes into the back of his hand. What would it be? Heads? Tails? He didn't remove his hand, though. Instead he content with feeling the cold, metallic surface in his palm. What would it be? What would it be? "Four hundred and ninety nine times tails." He said slowly, carefully, as though someone might not hear his words. And for how softly he spoke, no one might. "For hundred and ninety nine times this little gold beauty has told us to be responsible and stay with the plan. It's asked us to be reasonable. Logical. Understanding." The men waited for more, but soon it was evident that they weren't about to get another word. Their captain just stood there, silent, unmoving. Whispers marked with more than simple curiosity were passed between the ship hands, but beyond those hushed tones they dared not do a thing. Nothing to disturb their captain and his luck. His sudden stillness, though, was not the worst part. No, the worst part was the mischievous look that danced in his eye. Shatterign the tension that hung in the air like a gunshot to so much glass, James jerked his hand away. In the shame moment he threw his head back. A roar of unbridled mirth escaped the man. With a burst of energy, he rushed to the front of the ship, and nearly hurled himself off the front. White knuckled grasp was the only thing that kept him from falling into Deep Sky. Not appearing to give thought to his own life, he began to swing his weight by the pivot of the rope in his hand. The moon seemed nearly blinding, but he paid it no mind; all he could think of was how his blood rushed with excitement. "Ha! To deep sky with the plan, I say! To deep sky with the plan! The moons bless my soul, to deep sky with the bloody plan!" Captain Madison carefully tapped the thick page off over the trash bin beside him. The shower of ink stained sand flaked off, crumbling away from the ebony letters that had been crafted with slow precision. The sand was too fine to make noise as it fell into the bin, although one half expected to hear it; the room was absolutely silent, save only a chorus of crickets, muffled by the thick-paned glass. The desk that the man sat at was nothing short of what one would expect a Valuan Captain to have, making it the finest piece of furniture that the man owned. The glass-panel-inset, darkly stained desk could be seen easily despite the room's limited light. Beneath the clear top a scene of winged creatures locked in battle played out. Madison believed heavenly creatures surely came straight from the carver's imagination, but perhaps the biologist could have informed him differently. Madison added the page to the small stack that had formed before him. Between the two mirrored gas lamps and the moonglow streaming in through the large window before him, the rolling script could be easily read. Well, everything was going well, all things considered. The six were safe, the town had provided a warm welcome, and the pirates wouldn't cause any trouble. Not soon, anyway. He had time to prepare. Life, as Madison had found, was a really horrible thing. War, death, greed, and hopeless effort were some of its base components. Men always wanted for themselves, and didn't care if that came at the cost of others or not. Most men. Madison wasn't one of them. It broke his heart every time others had to pay for his ideas... There was one thing that made life acceptable, though; it was logical; it could be figured out. It worked something between a game of chess, and the workings of a clock. Things would happen as they did; you could look at events and study people, and you could determine what was going to happen. If, that was, you had the mind and patience for it. One better than simply understanding life was that you could change it. If you knew what you were doing, just short of anything was possible. If you had the mind, and the patience, that was. Madison had both. That way one could fish the pleasant things to the surface, and guide life to become something that worked out. One could make the world a better place; make life itself a truly worth-while effort if they only took the time to sit down, and think components out. Luck was just mankinds' excuse to not sit down and figure those things out. It was easier not to think, or at least men fooled themselves into believing such. There was no fate, except the pattern of how Arcadia shaped itself. "It's getting late, and you need to get to bed." The words were murmured softly by Madison. Rubbing his eyes didn't nothing for his tired body. He looked up, and out towards the night sky. A fishing craft was docked within eyesight, and it rocked under what must have been considerable force. The winds from the purple moon must have been coming down hard. If he wouldn't have looked up, he would have missed the wind entirely; though mostly the cliff side village was thrusted out into the elements, Madison's home was one of the few places shielded away from the winds. Well, his sources had been correct--as he had expected them to be--and... no; source. Not sources, not really, anyways. That woman... well, she was never wrong. Madison would leave it at that. The woman was never wrong. Never wrong, except she did believe in fortune to a degree... Madison swore he could feel the heat on his face for how bright the blast was. The papers were scattered as Madison hurled himself up using the desk as a shove-off. Looking out the window, he found himself frozen in terror. Absolute terror. What had he miscalculated? What could have possibly gone wrong? "What? It can't be--impossible!--there's... there's no point--! There's no point! There's..! Curse you!" He hurled the inkpot into the window. The glass panes exploded in shards. "Curse you! Why did you have to do it?! The plan! You were supposed to stay with the bloody plan!" Mayor Finson drummed his many-ringed fingers on the tabletop, scowling into the darkness. With legs up in another of the tavern's many mismatched chairs, and his right hand managing the mug just as surely as his left kept rhythm, one would hardly think of the man as someone who the town loved, nearly as much as they did Captain Madison. Madison. The name made Finson sneer. They'd follow that man off the side of a cliff; they hung on to his every word. If he had one day told everyone that he had thought it out, and it was in fact no such things as moons, they'd all rush to scratch out any mentioning of the subject in their books, and would begin joking among themselves how only yesterday they thought they saw something yellow in the sky. He himself was like that. Not too long ago, in fact. He adjusted the positioning of his legs, and smacked his lips. No, he wasn't at all a picture of what one would expect out of someone that the town loved. What one would expect out of the mayor. In his defense, Finson was never one to drink more than a little, or stay up into the hours nearly marked as the morning, but here he was back to old habits. He blamed Madison for his regression, and had every reason to. Well, it was either Madison, or one of the other Knears; he could take his pick. Finson didn't taste the drink as it went down. "Mayor?" The timid voice caused the man to turn away from his wide mug, with absentminded curiosity. The only person he knew to be up and about was the innkeeper--the one who had given him the cold drink--but she was anything but a timid person. Who then? He squinted into the abandon darkness of the common room, attempting to make out the figure. The speaker took a step forward, and to Finson's complete astonishment, it was the innkeeper. "What is it, Jessica? What's the matter? What's wrong?" "I..." She paused, looking away, fear dancing in her eye. "I found a coin. Two of them." Finson eyed the woman curiously. "A coin? Why are you so upset about coins?" "They're... his." The Mayor sat upright, slamming the mug on the table. Drink splashed everywhere, and the chair that he had his feet on fell to the floor with a clatter. He paid neither a thought, for there was only one thing on his mind. "He's here?!" The woman desperately waved her hands to quiet the man, looking up at the wooden ceiling and down the hall least the inn's guests were awaken by the shout. "No! No! At least... I don't think so--I think one of them were dropped by one of the six--" " 'Dropped by them?!' " The Mayor fumed, stopping a foot down. "How in the blazes did they get it? What about the other?!" "I..." Her face went pale. "He's dead." Silence descended upon the mayor. "Who?" "The strange one. The Henry man." She handed the two coins over, and Finson snatched them away. He turned them over in his hand, noting the stamped woman on one side, and the 'JK' on the back. The two golden objects made his already sour mood darken considerably. Lifting them above his head he looked about to hurl them across the common room, but then he second guessed this action, instead shoving them into his trouser pockets. "Light! How long ago? Why in the blazes? The shiprot fool-" He muttered something too quiet and too full of curses to make sense of. "I knew it'd come to this! I knew it! They wouldn't listen to me and look what happened! The light burn them--the whole lot of them!" "I don't think it was him--" She continued, an urgency in her voice. "That... did it. I think it was one of his men. I... I... he's dead... He's in the closet I couldn't..." The inn rocked in the wake of an explosion. The innkeeper shouted, and fell to the floor. She clawed her way back up as soon as she could manage, clapping hands over ears as if to unhear the sound. Before the final echo had faded, the mayor had already dashed across the room, and yanked his coat off one of the hooks by the inn's door. "What was that?" The woman cried, hands now clasp before her mouth. "That's the sound of our worst mistake coming around to haunt us! The moons take us... Wake up everyone! Madison better have a blasted plan! To Deep Sky with my soul for--" He bit off his words, throwing open the door, coat half on. The icy howl hit him, and he leaned into the blast. The town before him was clocked in a fog thick enough to hide nearly everything, the heavenly shroud bening whipped about by the nearly tornatic gusts. Dark fingers of rock spires and buildings could be seen, clawing their way out from the white carpet, but most certainly the path was lost. Finson couldn't help but curse again when he saw the fresh blaze. "But why? He-he said-! He said-" Jessica stammered. "Never underestimate a Knear," The mayor screamed, storming out with all the rage his chest could hold. "Burn me! Never underestimate a Knear!" The long strides came down on the boarding hard. Not half an hour ago, one would have been able to hear every creek and groan the ship was making in protest of a single man's movements. Now few could even hear his shouting. Orders to fire, were his words, although they were unneeded; he had given them already half a dozen times. The fog--thick over the town--made it impossible to aim the cannons, but that was of no matter. They would hit where they needed to. Captain James had faith of that. A sound touched his ear, and he found himself approaching the starboard side curiously. He squinted at the landscape, attempting to place form to words. The town had already began to burn, though the attack had hardly yet begun. The glowing blazes lit up the fog majestically, each topped with billows of flame that approached the moons themselves. Paired with the stargaze and full moon glow it was a sight that few men ever saw. James himself had seen it on a number of occasions. The sound... It was difficult to place over the ship's shoutings, the cannons roars, and the battle of the wind, but... It was a man's voice, but who, and what... The grin that flashed across his face was brief, but as large as could be imagined. "Do you hear that?" He called, to no particular sailor, "It's good old Captain Madison calling for everybody to go to the Stone City." He strained his ear, catching a few more words. Stunned amusement was his next expression. "Everybody Not just the commoners, but everyone. Even the sailors and soldiers... Ha-ha!" He laughed, slapping the back of a nearby gunner on his way to fetch more powder. The man gave his captain a questioning look, and then hurried on. It was a wise decision. "We must have hit the docks." James supposed, shoving a finger in the direction of the largest flame, "Or.. better yet his ship. His ship! Ha! Your ship's been hit! Do you hear me, Madison! Fortune bests Order! You never stood a chance!" He spun around, and as his luck would have it, there stood the first mate; in between managing the crew. At least James thought it was his first mate. Well, whoever it was, they'd do nicely. "You, get together a landing party! We're pillaging this town!" The man nodded, arm lifted against the torrent of the wind, and began barking orders to stop firing the cannons. James shook his head slapping a hand on the pirate's shoulder. The man needed to be corrected. "No, keep firing them. We're landing with the cannons blazing!" "But--Cap'! We'll be shot out of the sky in that crossfire!" "Not with me on it. No sir, there's not even a chance." "Get to the Stone City! Get everyone there!" Madison shouted, chancing a scowl back towards the docks. Men and women pushed past him, streaming to the suggested safety. A shot managed to--by some ill luck--hit the weapons house. The resulting blast had taken out most of the dock. His mind clung to the word 'most.' Could they make it if they tried? That was their best chance at saving the town. "We'll be safe in there! Hurry!" The crack of cannon fire lit the night sky with frighteningly familiarity. Madison did his best to blank out that sound; he had enough on his mind with the frantic cries of townspeople and the blazing of the fire. The wind... why did there have to be such a wind? Without that wind, it wouldn't have been even possible for the fire to attack so many homes, so quickly. The impact of a nearby cannonball, nearly knocked Madison to the ground. "Sir! What about the ship? It's our best chance!" Madison turned to see the armor clad soldier, and then he looked again back towards the docks. In hesitation he let precious moments pass. The soldier was not so ready to wait about. "Sir, we don't have any supplies in the Stone City. They could just wait us out there, but the ship..." "I know that!" The viscount's hands clawed at the air before him--looking ready to go for his face. "I know that! I just don't know... I need to know...!" A voice shouted from somewhere in the fog. "They're landing men! The pirates are landing men! Get away from the shore!" Another cannonball whistled overhead, crashing into the dry good store's window. Thankfully, nothing was set ablaze; the shop was closed down and no lamps were left burning. "Sir!" The soldier grabbed Madison by the arm, desperation in his voice. Madison still stared towards the store window. "We have to get to the ship--" And then the soldier was no more. As simple as that. With the same force that had ended the soldier's life, the store behind Madison collapsed. He was on the floor, senses shocked beyond use. His first reaction was to shut out the pain. His second was to let out a cry. Fighting his way back to the first, he struggled to his feet, left arm gingerly supported by the right. His vision blurred, and for a moment blackened. Blinking, he looked around. Everything seemed so distant, so far away. Sounds most of all; there was shouting, but he couldn't manage to make out what was being said. Everything seemed so quiet... he looked over towards the rubble; armored leg extending from the mess. "The ship... the ship. The ship!" The viscount took a step towards the docks. "They're landing!" That voice again from before; the one who had first announced the invasion. He heard that sound. Could he make it? Was there time? Had anyone else tried? He staggered another step towards where he knew the ship would be. Should he try? How was any of this even possible! How? It was stupid, foolish! There was no reason that it would have happened. Why would he have... What were the rules he needed to understand? "I don't know...!" He shouted up towards the yellow moon. "I just don't know!" Alright, I've told most of you in chat this, but the time for guessing the mysteries is coming up. I do ask for all the mysteries, and what I've heard so far (right or wrong) have been very compact. To ensure that you have every mystery, consider looking at each character, how they play into the mysteries, and what their motivations are for doing whatever it is that they do. Also, look for the relationships between the characters. Also, I'm sorry for not getting this up. I had to make careful that all the facts were right, and the final clues (nearly all of them are, in truth, repeats of old ones, but even so) were put into place that could be done before Captain James made his move. PG 17 1/3 Tuesday, 1-26-09 Colaya 2/3 Wednesday, 1-27-09 SummerRayn 2/3 Thursday, 1-28-09 Gordreg 0/3 Friday, 1-29-09 Necromancer Sargoth 1/3 Saturday, 1-30-09 Dungeon Master Null/Null Sunday, 12-31-09 Dead Crawlers Edited by Ranger, Jan 26 2009, 08:50 PM.
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| PG 17 | Jan 28 2009, 05:23 AM Post #74 |
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Uber Monk
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Mikeil woke, suddenly, as the inn rocked underneath him. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be doing that…” He thought to himself. He jumped out of bed and ran to the window. From the little he could see through the fog, the town seemed top be on fire. “Fire?...the hell?” Mikeil said aloud as ran to his cloths and put them on hastily. He yanked open the door and ran out, through the hall, down the stairs, and into the dining and drinking area of the inn. Several people were huddled there, as though escaping something. Seeing how scared they were Mikeil ran past, thinking that he wouldn’t get much of a response. He forced open the doors of the inn, and ran into the street. People were running up the street, away from the docks. Mikeil stopped and thought for a moment. If people were running around away from the docks, then someone was attacking them from their. In a ship, no doubt. More than likely, this ship had something to with the other one. It would make sense; if they were in the scheme together they would be close. And if that were the case, then… His sword! His sword HAD to be on that ship, somewhere. There wasn’t much in this world he really cared about, except Valua and his sword. Deciding that it would be in his and the town’s best interest, he ran off in the direction of the docks. It didn’t take long before he was there. The first thing he noticed was the pirates and townspeople running right at him and past him. From what he could see, the attacks were coming from a ship off from the shore. “Damnit…” Mikeil muttered. There was no way he could get over there. Besides, even if he did, how would he manage all the pirates on board? He wasn’t nearly good enough to handle all of them. Even with his sword, he wouldn’t stand much a chance. “The Stone City! Head for the Stone City!” A cry rang out. A retreat? To be expected, he supposed. However, he wasn’t out yet. He still needed a weapon of some sort, and the pirates coming up from the shore had plenty. He ran up to one, a short guy with a long sword. Hoping the pirate wouldn’t notice him, Mikeil ran, and threw a punch right at his head. |
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| Gordreg | Jan 30 2009, 11:50 AM Post #75 |
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Administrator
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The sound of thunder rumbled in her head, and Eleanor Sadlanar tossed and turned atop the comfortable bed. She could hear those sounds no matter how she tried, those loud bangs as the skies above unleashed their charge. A child of Valua, the crack of thunder was a sound to which she'd grown accustomed in her youth, and had learned to ignore so as to have a good night's rest. So why did the sound now stir her, was her sleep that uneasy? Filled with dreams of hidden faces, unseen pirates with gleaming weapons and that unknown rumbling, her dreams were far from peaceful. And so groggily she roused herself, eyelids cracking open into the still-darkness that marked any time of the Valuan clock. And then the sound came again; but not the rumble of thunder like she'd thought. This was the sound of an explosion; the noise from a firing cannon. Elanor's bleary eyes opened wide as a sudden rush of epinephrine released itself into her circulation, and stupidly she dashed to the window to look outside. Beneath the window, clouds of smoke and mist were boiling into one another as the harsh winds blew. And through the haze below, Eleanor could see the faint lick of distant flame. For a moment something flashed out in the sky beyond the cliff; a roar of canon-fire from an unseen ship. And then an explosion answered from the town; a shell detonating somewhere below in a shower of heat and light that momentarily cleared a patch of the drifting fog, before filling the gap as the struck building burst into flames, and thick dark smoke billowed upward from the blazing ruins. Eleanor blinked, shocked by the sudden destruction, and more so that she recognised the building that had just gone up. It was the inn; the place that yesterday they had been pointed to by Captain Madison and the Mayor. But for a quirk of fate and a trace of suspicion, Melissa and herself might have even now been roasting to death in that inferno... Running from the room, Eleanor knocked hastily upon Melissa's door - and then burst in anyway. "Melissa!" she called out into the room, her voice a little higher then usual. "The town's being shelled! I just saw the Inn go up!" |
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| Ranger | Feb 2 2009, 06:23 PM Post #76 |
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Previously Nex Terren
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Alright, Crawlers. Carry on. You have permission to control any MINOR pirates/townspeople as you see fit. Keep in mind realistic bounds. Remember that the town is being shelled, pirates are storming it en masse, and chaos abounds. Captain Madison is a bit shell shocked, as it happens, so you might want to figure that into your plans. If I were you, I'd make any decision and follow through as quickly as possible. Just a little advice from DM to Crawler. PG 17 1/3 Monday, 2-2-09 Gordreg 0/3 Tuesday, 2-3-09 Necromancer Sargoth 2/3 Wednesday, 2-4-09 Dungeon Master Null/Null Thursday, 2-5-09 Dead Crawlers (I'll update the dead crawlers with links later today) Edited by Ranger, Feb 2 2009, 08:07 PM.
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| PG 17 | Feb 3 2009, 04:48 AM Post #77 |
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Uber Monk
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The pirate saw Mikeil too late, and raised his sword, only to be hit full in the face by Mikeil’s fist. A sickening cracking noise came from his skull, and he flew backward into a crate. He slid to the ground and laid still, the sword slipping from his hand. Mikeil grabbed it, lifting it up and examining it. It wasn’t in great condition; splotches of rust could be seen on the blade. However, it was better than nothing. He swung it down into a lower, more comfortable position, and made his way back towards town. There wasn’t much sense in sticking around here. Too many pirates out for sport. As he made his way back up the main street, he noticed a pirate backing a woman into an alleyway. His blood began to boil, he hates people who did this. He gripped his sword, and ran straight at the pirate, driving his sword full into his back. The pirate gurgled and started to fall, supported by Mikeil’s sword. Mikeil gripped the pirate’s shoulder, and wrenched out his blade. The pirate dropped to his knees, and with a quick slice, Mikeil cut off his head. A bit extravagant, he supposed, but the pirate deserved it. He looked up to see the woman gone, which wasn’t surprising. He gathered his wits, and charged back onto the main street. He slowed and stopped as he approached the inn. Or, what was left of it. It was engulfed in a inferno, flames shooting out from the windows and doors. As far as he knew, there was at least one of his companions from the kidnapping in that inn. He supposed there may have been more, but he had not seen any. There was no way in or out, and he hoped they had escaped. He had intended to return to the inn and figure out what to do next, but that option seemed to be unavailable. He thought it over for a second, and decided it would be best to find any surviving companions. There was strength in numbers, after all, and some of them seemed capable enough. He ran off, deeper into the town, searching for whoever remained. |
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| Gordreg | Feb 3 2009, 08:40 PM Post #78 |
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Administrator
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No answer. Eleanor paused for a moment at the inside of the door, blinking in the dim light of the unlit room. Hadn't Melissa heard her? She'd been quite loud... but then, Eleanor supposed that Melissa was currently in the midst of sleeping through a bombardment of Cannonfire. If that hadn't been enough to wake Melissa up, then why should a simple shout have been sufficient? No, she needed to be slightly more physical, that was for certain. Eleanor dashed across the bedroom to Melissa's bed, and stooped. Grabbing the hem of the bedsheet with both her hands Eleanor tugged it back sharply, pulling both sheet and the covering feathery blanket away from Melissa's prone form. "Wake up! Can't you hear the sound? How can you sleep through this? " Eleanor pleaded. "There's a ruddy ship going round blowing up large parts of the town, for Moon's sake! It's probably pirates!" And she tugged sharply at Melissa's closest hand, hoping that this at least might serve to break the noblewoman from her slumber. |
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| Necromancer Sargoth | Feb 5 2009, 05:54 AM Post #79 |
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Affably Evil
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Having gone to bed so late, Melissa was deep in slumber when Eleanor broke into her chamber. The sound of the latch giving way on the door failed to rouse her even as a bombardment rained down outdoors. It was not until the angry botanist had yanked Melissa’s arm that the noblewoman woke suddenly, quite startled and confused. She wretched her hand back from Eleanor and glared daggers before she could process the events unfolding around her. “What? What are you saying?” she asked, still groggy from sleep. “What is happening again?” Before Eleanor could restate the obvious, Melissa finally comprehended. The orange light from the fire raging through town poured through the leaded glass of the arched window. The sounds of battle raged and every few minutes the great roar of a ship’s cannons tore through the air, followed by several explosions as shells bombarded the poor hamlet. “Oh Moons, why does this keep happening?” asked Melissa as she scrambled out of bed and began to scoop up whatever scant few belongings she had in the room. She was glad now that she went to bed in the borrowed clothing from the Order. She wondered if Captain Madison, well, Captain Knear had survived the attack. She realized suddenly she did not care. She ran out of the room suddenly, turning back to address Eleanor. “Sorry, for being rude. I do not think you need to be told that we need to get out of here, however. Let us try and find Lady Knear… perhaps there is a cellar we can take refuge in.” With that, Melissa turned and set out down the corridors, calling for their hostess. |
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| Ranger | Feb 7 2009, 05:11 AM Post #80 |
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Previously Nex Terren
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Lady Knear threw open the door, eyes boring holes into the two women. White-knuckled grip still on the brass doorknob, her gaze quivered as she studied the two other valuans. The flowered wallpaper and darkly stained furniture might have well been that of a pauper for how much she paid it mind. However, dressed in a gown surely not what she had worn to bed, apparently she had deemed it necessity to allow time for reading herself before responding to the crisis. "Out!" She snapped, jerking her head down the hallway. "Quickly!" Spinning around, she followed the implied direction. She did not waited for a response, and neither did she check to see if the women followed her. For the noble lady, it was an assumed. Despite any frailty of form, her footsteps hammered down on the hallway with approaching a military-taught precision. "Shelling the entire town. Stands to figure that this would happen. I knew that it would. I knew it. Half the town is burning--Is this what Madision's town has become? Is this what that fool will do--is this the town of Knear? Is this what they'll remember? They'll remember the Knears as the nobles of a burning town. Bah! Hurry! Quickly, quickly!" Down the stairs she stormed. Her grace was enough to balance a vase of watter, though if one tried they'd likely produce a healthy boil. "You need to get out of here, quickly. Those men won't dare attack this house--unless you give them reason to. You're not safe here. You must go now. Jeeves!" The man was already standing by her side, having come when she hadn't been paying mind. Despite the loud thunders of death and destruction hammering the world just outside, he seemed less concerned than he had when Eleanor Melissa had entered the house without permission. "Fetch them two of my coats--it's cold out there, and pirates or not, you'll need them--and hurry." Still having yet to glace to see if the women were present, she did not break this trend, instead marching over to the door. As she yanked it open, the cold bast of wind made the aged woman fall back a few paces, and blink. "Jeeves?" She took another step away to escape the cold, surely more-so for a woman of her age. "Where are those coats?" The man appeared with a floor-length blood red coat adorned in intricate black laced trim, and a second one that was not nearly as long, but whose thick white make, hood, and with the interesting choice of blue Basallish fur trimming every avalible edge promised greater warmth. The distinct smell of mothballs and age fading marked them as not likely the woman's best coats. "Now don't waste any time. Any second that passes here is another chance at running into those black pirates as they make their way into the village. I'm sure your 'Captain Madison' has a plan to keep you safe." She sneared at this. "If there's any justice to Arcadia this night will see the end of that commoner's fool." She spun about again, and for the first time since first adressing them, she looked at the two. As her gaze widened, she stomped a foot down as hard as she could manage. "Out! I'll not have your or I dead on account of you two wasting time! I can take care of myself here--but not you two as well. Hurry!" "To the ship or the city? To the ship or the city?" Madison shouted, eyes flashing up in anger towards the moon. Was it a prayer to it? Even he wasn't sure. "To the ship or the city? Curse you James! The moons curse your soul." A man rushed towards Madison--expected, though unseen--with hairy chest showing. That, pierced ear, an oversized cutlass marked him as an enemy unmistakable. That was, if one manged to see him. Through fog and night the valuan captain might have missed him, but the glow of fire flashed off the savage's silver moonstone blade. The Viscount couldn't help but notice the red mark along edge where firelight did not reflect so brightly off of. Smoke drifted up from Madison's pistol, and he stared enraged down at the corpse at his feet. He didn't care that the body lay there. He didn't care that the man was a pirate, or that the fellow was set to rip Madison appart a few momments ago. Those were facts of life; athough minor and quite specific to the then and there, they were nevertheless facts. That there were pirates who sailed the seas was unfortunate, that they attacked men and women was sickening, but those too were facts. They were reasonable, even logical. That this attack--this invasion that lit the town around him tonight--had happened was not a fact; it made no sense, and every factor said that it should have been avoided. Chaos had trumped reason. Pirates had bested the townspeople. A fool captain had proven himself the better of his valuan counterpart. No, that wasn't the case. None of it was. Not yet. Not yet... "To the ship or the city." He barked--even louder than before. It was not a question. Not any longer. "To the ship or the city!" A cannonball nearly took off his head. Spinning around, he ran off into the chaos, disappearing into the mess of shadows and blinding light. He had made his choice. To the ship or the city. To the ship or the city... He knew. PG 17 1/3 Saturday, 2-7-09 Gordreg 0/3 Sunday, 2-8-09 Necromancer Sargoth 2/3 Monday, 2-9-09 Dead Crawlers Click name to visit death-post. |
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2:37 PM Jul 11