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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 23 2011, 03:14 PM (1,024 Views) | |
| High Priest of Twig | Nov 23 2011, 03:14 PM Post #1 |
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Game Master Master
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![]() Cybele Labarre stepped lightly off of the traders' ship and onto the docks of the cityLerana., which stretched out far into the famous Lerana river. As she stepped onto the docks, her eyes were assaulted with a cacophony of unfamiliar sights and smells - ships from dozens of different nations had put into dock. Somewhere to her right, she saw a ship waving the flag of the Conserva-Victorian empire, and off to her left a closely guarded Advent trade ship. Avians and elves and humans - some races that she had never even seen before with her own eyes, but only read about in books. As Cybele wove her way through the thronging crowds of traders and seamen, she was bumped and jostled almost constantly, and stumbled several times - once, her bag's shoulder strap was almost knocked off of her shoulder. However, once she set foot on dry land, the crowd seemed to be more calm and dispersed. Cybele pulled her note from the priest who had sent her to Lerana in the first place - a portly man by the name of Harold - to observe the customs and record the history of the young city, and read his scrawling handwriting, which directed her to a tavern by the name of "The Loving Harlot". Charming, she thought, as she made her way through the winding streets past forges and bellows where blacksmiths were working metal which was brought to them by the many miners which lived and worked in the city. Edited by High Priest of Twig, Nov 25 2011, 05:33 PM.
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| morian of Twig | Nov 24 2011, 06:36 AM Post #2 |
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Game Master
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"Walk another road, see what has not yet been seen and return to us with what you have learned." "Could not be more specfic...Thanks..." Botzin sighed when he fundled with the leather straps that held his bow attached to his back, his cloack already covering most of his normal male form, his face hidden by the chainmail hood attached to his chestpiece, utility "skirt" attaches to his belt and his short sword attached crosswise across his back and his quiver attached like one would normaly do a sword. He scratched his cheek while the 4 other "students" discussed what they were here to do. Minutes later did they leave the hold of the fairly large advent trade ship, guards and sailors strolling around the deck, unloadind wood, leather and salted meats. The direct area around the ship was calm, 6 armed soldiers, the official armed "crew" or "soldiers" of the ship cordoned a small semi-circle around the area of were the ship was docked, people crowding around to see what the ship was unloading and to gawk at the Uron symbol emblazoned on the center 'junk' sail of the 3 mast advent ship. They split up quickly, each walking in a seemingly different direction, each having a different objective in the city, be it picking up shipments for the ship, brokering trade or even going to the inn for rumors and some food. Botzin had the latter idea, he was to play "overwatch" for a shipment of iron ore and steel ingots for the ship the next day, so he had nothing to do today. He still disliked leaving the ship and walking alone, but he would be in the way on the ship anyway. He had only made it passed the harbor before he entered the workshop of a lone smith, breathing loudly and seemingly stressed, the blacksmith looking upon whim with worry. "Alright kid?" The advent kid nodded slightly and caught his breath, cursing underneath his breath. "Too many people... Their everywhere" The blacksmith let out a hearthly laugh and continued his work with a slight grin. "First time in a city lad?" Botzin could only nod and strike a small conversation with the blacksmith, he had nothing to do and a batch of sharp,steel arrows in the corner caught his eye. |
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| R. Mortem of Twig | Nov 24 2011, 03:51 PM Post #3 |
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Priest
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Lord Julia Arachnea stood on the bow of the Empire ship Crepuscularity alongside his friend and assistant Moonfire, a Sylvari Priestess of the Night. 'So, this is the port city of Lerana?' Moonfire asked in wonder. She had never traveled out of Joranth, even to the Empire, as she had spent most of her 20 years learning to become a Priestess of the Night. The Sylvari people, being born and made of nature, worshipped the world as a God and no no individual being like the Conservitans. As a First High Arch Lich, Lord Julius disagreed with the pagan beliefs and actively talked with Moonfire, trying desperately to convert his friend. 'Yes,' Julius muttered. He walked away as the crew began to unload it's wares, 'Perhaps we should go to the docks and see what there is on offer?' Moonfire nodded but still stayed at the bow for a few seconds before turning and jogging after the High Arch Lich. They walked forwards and passed a hurrying Twiggian as Julius and Moonfire made their way to "The Loving Harlot". '"The Loving Harlot"', muttered Moonfire as she tried to understand the title. 'You don't need to know what the humans call some of their women.' Julius said derisively as he walked inside leaving Moonfire who had pieced together what Julius had meant. As she got to the bar Julius was already ordering drinks and food from the surly barkeeper. The man grunted and the two sat down to be served by a woman who Moonfire asked, rather loudly, 'Are you the Loving Harlot?' Julius choked on a piece of food he had put in his mouth as the serving girl's face turned bright red, 'Wh-who want's to know?' By now several occupants of the tavern had turned to see. 'But the name of this...' she was cut off by Julius. 'My apologies. She is Sylvari and does not understand most social norms and customs.' He gave her a coin to further the apology and she left them. 'Was she not the Harlot?' Moonfire asked innocently. 'No,' Julius muttered, 'Although I am sure many human men in here could say otherwise.' The young Sylvari opened her mouth to ask a question but stopped when Julius raised a hand, 'I think you have asked enough today Moonfire. You can seriously get yourself in trouble asking things like that.' |
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| Heckler and Kochica of Twig | Nov 25 2011, 09:38 PM Post #4 |
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Flight, one of the few things that the higher ups think can truly kill me through coincidence. Which is true enough, wind is really good at blowing hoods away from faces and it's hard to maintain a cloud going that fast between me and the Sun. Oh, where's my head today, my name is Calazar Crimbol, Death Knight, and Wraith. Wraith being race and Death Knight being profession of course. I'm generally not liked by those who hold evil as a virtue, mostly because I'm, at best, passively malignant. This is normally viewed as a bad thing in the more common circles anyways, so I'm not exactly well liked by anyone, no accounting for taste. Where was I, Flight, yes, ahem, whoever had bred this particular beast had had quite a lot of things on their mind at the time if it's form was any evidence, part eagle, part alligator and part bat, they must have been slightly confused as to what parts they'd end up using because one wing is leathery and makes an awful racket and the other is a feathery mess that only seems to make the balance of the whole thing precarious. No doubt they gave this particular monstrosity to me out of spite, much like my current mission, now we're getting to the real story, you just wait. My mission, as it currently stands, is to assassinate a particular political leader on an island off the coast of nowhere, just east of nothing. Honestly, if I didn't know that my superiors were trying to kill me passively I'd think they were trying to get me to die out of sheer travel time. But anyways, that's beside the point, which seemed to be culminating at the monstrosity that was my ride turning over and dumping me into a forest, by the looks of it I'd place it as the Selikwood, but I've never been one for maps, and anyways the other two major woods in the area were unmarked, the only thing I really know about the mission is that my target is in a place called Helgar Keep, quite the imposing name. Now, a few things occurred to me as I tumbled out of the sky, one, that the thing seemed to be continuing on it's path, meaning that it wasn't going to stick around for him to finish his job, and two, mostly incorporeal or not, Getting hit by trees from 200 Yards up hurts. |
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| High Priest of Twig | Nov 25 2011, 09:55 PM Post #5 |
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Game Master Master
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Cybele watched the avian and sylvari from a table in the corner. A sylvari! She'd only heard of them before in books from Conserva-Victoria! The priestess picked her bag up and brushed her robe's hood down off of her head, approaching the southerners curiously. Pointing at a chair, she smiled, "Is this seat taken? I coudn't help but overhear your conversation with the barmaid, and I get a feeling like you're new here." |
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| R. Mortem of Twig | Nov 25 2011, 10:14 PM Post #6 |
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Priest
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Lord Julius regarded the Arcaesian, 'The seat is not taken, unless Advakarez himself sends his avatar to fill that space.' As the Arcaesian sat down Julius continued, 'I am not new here. I regularly make trips from the Empire to Lerana to trade goods. My friend may not be quite so experienced however.' Moonfire similarly regarded the Arcaesian particularly because she had not seen this type of Human before and that would mean that the Human had not seen her. Maybe she had seen another of her race but she doubted it. Whenever a Sylvari traveled, rarely would they make national gossip. Moonfire smiled at the Arcaesian, the smooth, flawless, green leaves making her face adjusting to move her mouth with effortless movement. 'My name,' began Julius, 'Is Lord Julius Arachnea, First High Arch Lich of the Order of Sorcery of the Empire of Conservita Victoria. My friend here,' he pointed to the Sylvari, still smiling, 'Is Moonfire. A Sylvari. A race you seem to have not come into contact with considering your expression from the table you just came.' He said this last bit to his bowl as he dipped bread into the broth. He was well aware of most things that were happening in the tavern. Being from the part of nature that naturally catches prey from great distances gives one's sight quite an advantage. 'What should I call you?' |
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| High Priest of Twig | Nov 26 2011, 01:08 PM Post #7 |
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Game Master Master
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Cybele smiled. She was overwhelmingly excited; never in her life had she been so close to either an Avian or Sylvari in her life. For a scholar, being so close to both of them at once - well, it was difficult to stay seated. The priestess allowed her training in the East Arcaesian Academy for Polite Society to take over, whipping her body out of action and into a state of vague indifference; though flashes of her excitement showed brightly through the posturing. Smiling pleasantly, she replied, "I’m Priestess Cybele Labarre, but you can both just call me Cybele. I’m a scholar from Galaedr’s priesthood, and I’ve been sent here to learn whatever I can and bring it back to – Oh, you don’t care about any of that, do you?” Cybele blushed, “Sorry, I sometimes get carried away… anyway,” she turned her attention to Moonfire, “I heard your companion say that you’re a Sylvari? I’ve never heard of sylvari except for in a few of the books that I’ve read – we don’t know very much about your people at all. Would you mind if I-” she paused nervously, “If I traveled around with the two of you, and learned more about both of your people?” she stretched her mouth into a tenuous, nervous grin. Screw learning about Urelas, she had the opportunity to learn about the Sylvari from one of the Sylvari themselves! |
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| R. Mortem of Twig | Nov 26 2011, 01:36 PM Post #8 |
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Priest
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Lord Julius was indifferent about the matter and merely waved his hand and grunted his agreement as he continued to eat his food. Moonfire was far more enthusiastic, 'YES! We must travel together!' she squeaked as she bounced on the hard wooden chair, the soft rustle of her clothes made from leaves grown by her own body barely audible. 'There are so many things that even I am yet to see and it is all going to be so excellent!' Julius merely rolled his eyes and noticed the sideways glances he was getting from the rest of the tavern, 'Perhaps,' he muttered, 'You should keep it down slightly. I would imagine a few of these people here are suffering from last night.' 'Why, what happened last night?' Moonfire asked. The Avian only buried his head in his hands, too tired to answer another question. |
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| morian of Twig | Nov 26 2011, 01:44 PM Post #9 |
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Game Master
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Aries was one of a kind truly, one moment overreacting because of an overbundance of people, the other paying a smith to teach him how to smith arrows like he did, forging arrowtips with a hook was a rare skill after all! But an hour after he left the ship, was Aries undressed to but pants,shoe's, thick leather gloves and a shirt, hammering a miniscule piece of mithril, it seems only this strong metal was viable to craft special arrowtips out of, steel was strong, but special arrowtips and weapons made of mithril were made to last, so were arrows with special tips and uses it would be a waste to spend hours on a one use arrow! "If ye want a hooked arrow, and want to use it as such, yer whole arrow needs ta be metal, otherwise the shaft will simply brake as it will be tha weakest part. Thats the tricky part, since the balance of the arrow is worse than living in the 5th circle a hell." The boy nodded and hamered away, listening closely to whatever the smith had to say. The man was happy to gift his skills, but the mithril for one such an arrow would eat half the gold he brought for sure. It seemed an off day for the smith, no costomers seemed to arrive while he was teaching the boy, but it he explained he worked more on orders for the city militia and wealthier men. Aries did not care, his craftwork was solid and he was friendly enough to teach him and Advent coin was good enough. |
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| LRn | Nov 26 2011, 01:59 PM Post #10 |
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Regan Ghesheld Scorpion-Born leaned against a wall, he was a stranger to these lands. His mind thought deeply of his assignment, what a pitiful one it was, he thought back to his meeting with The Warmaster. Prefect Ghesheld, do to your insubordinate actions regarding The Battle of Blackstone Forge, I give you this assignment. Scour the lands keep a note of all men and creatures that you find, specifics. When you have gathered as much as possible, you shall return to me. Do what you must to survive. If you return without the information we are looking for,you will no longer be a Prefect, you will be Asatar, Dishonored One. Now go, do not look back and keep your mind on the path ahead of you. Do not fail me, do not fail our High King, live like a Raj'Dar, die like a Raj'Dar, or be Asatar, the choice is yours. He remembered storming out of the tent, furious. How could he not be? A Prefect of skill assigned to learn more of foreigners. That is a Seers Errand, not a Scorpion-Borns errand. He came back to his senses, his eye settled on the streets, full of people he knew not. In Castle Scorpio he knew everyone. He knew all of the Prefects of The Raj'Dar Force, yet here he was a stranger, a speck in the streets. This town was named, Lerana, in the native tongue. A Port city, filled with people. It was a city of mining, he had gathered. He saw many young women on corners, he did not understood, he kept his chin up and his eyes ahead. Yet he was tired of watching and eyeing people, he had not spoken much since he had been dropped off by a Corsair ship on the north end of this tiny little island. He gathered some saliva from his mouth and spat it on the sidewalk, and cracked his neck. He started down the road, he did not know much of manners, anyone that got in his way received his shoulder and were out of his way. He had some trouble seeing with only one eye, yet he was Prefect, he could handle anything. He grew thirsty, not for water, but for the strong drink. The drink of warriors. He had a bottle of whiskey, yet he dare not use too much of it, for it was not cheap. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted it. A tavern, The Loving Harlot. He knew of harlots back in his homeland. Women not of sword, or of trade, or of cleaning. Women of Sheali'do, Whores. Women that would do anything you wanted for gold. He nodded, and entered, pushing the door. His eyes settled on the bar, which he shuffled over to, sitting on a barstool. He slammed his fist on the bar, awaiting a drink or some cowardly bartender to offer him one. |
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12:16 PM Jul 11