Dark Legacy :: manual roleplay
Roleplaying Guide
- Introduction
- There are many things that people consider roleplay. Some give their character some depth via a biography or a description, while others enjoy enacting the fictional life of their character, totally oblivious to 'real world'. Roleplay is not required, but it is encouraged and appreciated.
- Roleplaying terms
-
IC stands for IN CHARACTER. Speaking and acting as a
fictional character rather than as the real life player.
As a player you have knowledge your character does not.
For example, you know how to work a computer, your
character does not.
OOC stands for OUT OF CHARACTER. speaking as the real life player rather than a fictional character. This is the usual state people are in on Dark Legacy.
- Character biography
-
After reading all these helpfiles I will finally show you
how to create your biography, but first, some hints.
Poorly received actions:
- Giving your character a description like 'He is god, he will kick your ass' is a bad thing to do. If you actually became a god while roleplaying, that's a different story, but you have to earn it. Be humble when you start, everyone has their faults.
- Do not use other characters, deities npc's or guilds as biography hooks before consulting those characters or a Caretaker first. You may not know everything about them and it may not fit in their storyline.
Things to do:
- Use your bio only to describe your history. Where he/she was born, how he or she grew up, what things they have achieved. Your characters appearance should be placed in your characters description.
To start editing your biography type '
bio'. Use '/s' when you are done.To view other people's biographies type '
whois [player]'. - Character family
- Family makes us what we are. They are one of the strongest factors, if not the strongest, in our own personal development, so "WHY do so many players choose to play orphans and only children?" Making your character an orphan, only child, or having had their whole family die off has its place but it is a very small place and not to be beaten to death. Family should be a large portion of your Biography. Make each personality as real to you as your character, you don't _need_ to cast players as your actual relatives in order to have relatives. Make your 60 year old mother a puppet and maybe ask an on-line friend of yours who knows your character and understands what you are going for with your mother (they don't have to be mind readers, just tell them about your mother). Have children and ex-wives and grandparents and crazy Aunt Lucys and a cousin named Junebug.
- Character names
-
Character names should be appropriate to a non-industrial
fantasy setting. Most "real life" names are fine. Names
like BikerDude, Vampirella, or Cyberman tent to be
poorly-received by other players.
We recommend that you avoid names from books/movies that are clearly identifiable, like Spock or Frodo. You may also wish to avoid names like Death, Envy, MonkeyBrain, etc., as these tend to be poorly-received by other players. If you use a name like Envy, you should consider it your character's nickname, not his or her given name.
- Character roles
-
There are many roles you could play, or give your
character. Maybe he or she is a Poacher, illegally
trading obscure magical items between Midian and Tyr,
constantly on the run from the Tyr militia. You could
play an insane Denist who has a knack for collecting
gnome teeth, or a gracious female herbalist. Make your
own combination, you can be as creative as you want.
Here are some example roles you could play:
Quartermaster Waterseller Barber Cosmetician Diplomat Judge Accountant Lawyer Dentist Pest Controller Undertaker Wetnurse Bowyer Fletcher Tinker Barber Horse Trader Crier Fisherman General Labourer Furrier Forester Poulterer Mercenary Peddler Spice Merchant Guard Artist Cook Blacksmith Attendent Lady-in-Waiting Chancellor Chatelaine Herald Animal Trainer Interpreter Valet Maid Wetnurse Butler Guard Painter Exchequer Executioner Jailer Judge Scribe Scrivener Librarian Interpreter Pirate Poacher Sharpener Cartographer Fencer, Chimney Sweep Apprentice Linkboy Taxidermist Bookkeeper Scientist Almoner Rumourmonger Crier Weeper Fortuneteller Netmaker Ropemaker Spinner Weaver Hunter Woodcutter/Sawyer Landlord Usurer Gamekeeper Herder Smuggler Miner Farmer Fisherman Entertainer Baker Cosmetician Tailor/Seamstress Chamberlain Seneschal Reeve Spy Stable Workers Historian Lady's Maid Servant Housekeeper Almoner Diplomat Clerk Torturer Herald Mintmaster Coiner Engineer Historian Assassin Beggar Prostitute - Character personality
-
Character traits can be used to give your character a
more tangible personality. Use your imagination to mix
traits and apply them to your character. For instance,
Rude and Impulsive character might react very bluntly
towards another character compared to a Dreamy and Kind
player. Characters can have phobias, dislikes, etc.
Your character could also have things he or she likes or dislikes. For example, Petra, the augurer, hates imps eversince they ate her favorite puppy when she was young. From this story we can also learn she likes puppies.
Your character probably has lived for many years already. Imagine where he or she was born, what your character experienced when he or she grew up, the people he and she has encounter, and where he or she is going.
Here are some character traits your character could have.
Argumentative Garrulous Articulate Antagonistic Elitist Proud Capricious Mischievous Irreverent Madcap Absent-minded Dreamy Insensitive Brave Fearless Obsequious Prying Intellectual Exacting Perfectionist Punctual Driven Kind-hearted Forgiving Greedy Miserly Avaricious Thrifty Spendthrift Extravagant Moody Gloomy Irritable Vengeful Truthful Innocent Opinonated Bigoted Blustering Hide-bound Happy Diplomatic Pessimistic Fatalistic Sarcastic Realistic Soft-spoken Secretive Sober Practical Reverent Ponderous Paranoid Cautious Uncivilized Uncultured Graceless Crude Sadistic Immoral Hot-tempered Overbearing Arrogant Haughty Rude Aloof Impulsive Lusty Careless Thoughtless Lacking common sense Craven Shy Curious Inquisitive Perceptive Keen Stern Harsh Friendly Trusting Easy-going Compassionate Hard-hearted Covetous Generous Wastrel Kind Charitable Morose Compulsive Naive Honest Gullible Hick Biased Narrow-minded Optimistic Cheerful Pleasant Foolhardy Depressing Cynical Quiet Laconic Retiring Mousy Level-headed Dull Suspicious Scheming Deceitful Nervous Boorish Barbaric Violent Cruel Jealous Warlike - Character Description
-
You probably already have a description generated by Dark
Legacy at character creation. You can edit this
description to your liking. Imagine how a character of
your race and class with your specific role, traits and
stats would look.
Avoid describing your character in a specific pose. (For example, When a player looks at you you wont be waving back all the time). Also be scarce with describing a single emotion in your description. There are exceptions, but most characters aren't sad ALL the time.
As a general rule, proof-read your description as if you where reading someone elses, and check if you could really know everything in there just by looking at a person.
o start editing your description type '
desc'. use '/c' to clear it (since you probably already have a short desc). Use /s when you are done.To view other people's descriptions just type '
look [player]'- Good Character Description
-
An example of a good description
Example: She is tall with a slender well-toned figure. The unusual color of her hair is definitely an odd yet distinguishing feature
its basic color is a deep auburn with strands of blonde, black, and other shades intermingled to create a striking affect. Its pulled back into a single braid that falls down her back. Her eyes are a light brown with flecks of gold that capture and reflect the light. Her smooth complexion is an even ivory cream tone that accents her facial features and adds to her strange attractiveness.
She is wearing a long hooded cloak of ebony, with intricate gold-colored embroidery, that falls down around her ankles. She also has on a plain white peasant shirt with ebony trousers, made of a comfortable yet slightly worn wool-like material, that are tucked into the top of her sturdy leather boots. Hanging from her belt is a small brown pouch and strapped to her left thigh is a sheathed dagger with a silver hilt. Slung over her shoulder is a travel pack filled with various items.
- I like that she divided it up into paragraphs with a line in-between them. Its almost impossible to read all in one lump.
- What is great about this desc is that it assumes nothing and does what it is supposed to do, describe. She doesn't tell you how you feel, only describes. That is the #1 component of a good desc.
- I can get a relatively good idea of what she looks like from this. I know her traits. I know the way she looks. If you can't visualize the character at all, the desc isn't worth keeping.
- Bad Character Description
-
An example of a bad description.
Example: As you take a quick look at this warrior you first notice his expression. There is no emotion present. You glimpse into his black soul as you look in his eyes. You can only assume that those eyes have seen more than any mortal man should have observed. Feeling uncomfortable, you survey the rest of his attire. You note that his long black hair is the same color of his armor. The armor is quite interesting as it is shaped to fit his exact body features. Around the collar there is attached a long cloak of the same black color, but with the inside a deep red.
- Who says I just looked quickly at him? Assume nothing when you make your desc. I could have stared at him for an hour.
- "You glimpse into his black":. About 85% of character's I have seen seem to have some hidden background that you can tell by looking in their eyes. I personally don't go around examining people's souls and dispositions by looking into their eyes.
- Never tell me what I assume by looking at you and Never tell me what I feel by looking at you.
- Refrain from telling me that something is interesting. Make it interesting. Nothing is eternally interesting. Just as people will look at you and assume and feel different things, they will find interest in different things about you. Tell me your armor is unique, not interesting. Describe an intricate pattern that lines it. Make it esthetically pleasing and it will be interesting.
- This whole desc is through and I know only one, true thing about how you look, that you have long, black hair which is pretty cliche in itself. What color are your eyes? What body type are you? I assume you are a cliche, hulking, He-Man but you have never told me for sure.
- Roleplaying a guild or faction
-
Some things to think about:
- What goals does your group persue? Is it Control of Trade? Power? Take Revenge on all Trolls? Rule a city? Maintain the roads? Save the world? Honour a Deity?
- Consider if the members have a mutual interest. (Is it Race? Class? A common enemy or desire?).
- Does your group have a specific internal structure? Military Ranks? Unstructured? Evil? Honourbound? Strict? Ruthless?
- Where does your group have its roots? Was it created several eons ago, or did it split up from a different group?
- Religion. Does your group follow a certain Deity or Belief?
When you complete the story behind your guild, and create the Badge, Ranks, description and mottos, ask some of the older players to take a look at your group to give constructive comments.
If you feel setguild doesn't allow you to publicise the ins and outs of your guild you can use the setguild command to link to a website. Players can reach your website via the Dark-Legacy site guild listing.
Example Roleplaying Stories
- These are some example Roleplay sessions from PennMush.
We like to thank Matrim for allowing us to show this log to
our players!
- The Ceremony
-
Foyer - Palace of the Council This is the foyer for the
Palace of the Council. The floor is a stunningly white
marble, with few streaks in it. The walls are of a lesser
quality of marble, filled with black streaks, but most of
the wall is hidden from view by decorations. Large
pendants hang from the ceiling and down the walls,
colored blue and trimmed in gold, with a six-pointed star
in the exact center of each. Several doors lead from the
room, with one large exit to each point on the compass.
To the north, which has the largest doors, and two
guards, is the Grand Council chamber. West is the
quarters set aside for visiting Ambassadors, and east is
the grand library. South leads into the courtyard, and
from there, into the city. Contents: Lazarus Serin
(Played by Jerric) Zefirus Slythis (Played by Kerr)
Beurchas Maia Noin Barrik Gabriel Milranata Obvious
exits: North (N) leads to Grand Council Chamber - Palace
of the Council. West (W) leads to Ambassador Quarters -
Palace of the Council. East (E) leads to Library - Palace
of the Council. South (S) leads to Courtyard - Palace of
the Council.
The sun begins its downward plunge towards the horizon earlier at this time of year, and so it is that the sky is already streaked with orange and reds. The Palace of the Council is well-lit though, torchs and candles already burning brightly and filling the grand foyer with light. Tonight, a new Lord.. Or Lady.. will be chosen to sit on the Council. Coming into the council room to the north, Lord Serin, the Lord of Justice, pauses in the great doorway, scanning the room and the faces already gathered in the room. After a moment, he takes a step forward and is within the crowd of nobles, merchants, and other guests. Mingling amongst the masses, is the tall aelven male, Lazarus, his dark robes seeming to be as regal as any other garbs there. His long white hair swept up into a braid which falls down the front of his dark robes in stark contrast. He keeps his hands behind him, and speaks in the musical fashion of the aelves, seeming to be gaining proficiency with the human language quite impressively. Finishing a conversation with a particularily robust lord, Lazarus smiles and glances around, spotting the Lord of Justice, Serin, he begins to weave in his general direction. Almost unseen and not heard appears a man in the distance. His dark skin contrasted by the light clothing he wears gives the assumption of being from somewhere in the southern desert reagins. Brought here by the rumors of a succeser to the throne... He says nothing but iinstead qiuetly listens at the edge of the now increasing political masses. The sun sinks into the western sky as the stars begin to twinkle to the east. Gabriel walks in from the south. Gabriel has arrived. Lord Serin nods to a few as he makes his way through the crowd. Looking for unusual faces, his eyes fall on what they seek, in the form of Lazarus. An aelf among the crowd is not unexpected, or unusual, really, but this one has a look of power to him, of being one to whom others listen. Heading towards the other, and noticing that the other heads for him as well, he nods a greeting, and says, "Greetings, sir." Nodding, and producing a small bow, Lazarus replies, "And greetings to you as well m'lord." Smiling slightly, he spreads his long fingers wide and gestures towards the rest of the crowd, then asks, "Isn't it somewhat dangerous to allow all of these dignitaries, and persons with political power to mingle so freely, and then to have such.. light security?" As he speaks, he reaches up with the same, long fingered hand, and draws back his hair over his shoulders, as he stands closer to the Lord of Justice. Then, as if struck by something, he shakes his head and says, "Where are my manners, my name is Lazarus El'Derr." Lord Serin nods his head slightly, and replies to the aelf's words, "Perhaps it would be a risk, but there is more security than you would think. Our best soldiers are stationed here tonight, as well as several of my Knights." He gives the aelf a slightl grin, "Perhaps you wonder why I do not introduce myself, but I would be surprised if you did not already know I was Lord Serin." From the courtyard, Gabriel enters the Palace of the Council walking quickly. He looks around foyer and walks towards Lord Serin general direction, looking at the pendants that are in the room. When the merchant is near the lord, he mentally debates with himself wether or not he should go and present himself to him. "There are things about which your security and Knights mightst not fare so well against, Lord Serin," Lazarus explains and gestures out towards the horizon, then continues ominously, "Many things." His robes stir eerily, as if touched by a slight wind, and his presence seems to grow slightly more noticeable. Then, as if it were just a passing thought, he says, "Anyways, good luck with your knights, m'lord." Thinking he spots Beurchas he excuses himself, and starts to weave that way, his willowy frame allowing him to navigate through the confined quarters relatively easily. Nodding slightly to Lazarus' words, Lord Serin glances towards the darkening horizon. He turns to speak to Lazarus again, only to find the aelf has already moved away and into the crowd. His gaze falls on another though, the young but wealty merchant Gabriel. Nodding a greeting, he takes a step towards the younger man and says, "Well met Gabriel. You come for the same reason as well the others I take it." He grins. The doors on the west side of the hall open and close quietly. Stepping through them is a figure clad in the colors of shadow. Black. His black robes flow over him as he gracefully steps into the room. His hood is down, exposing his almond-shaped, purple eyes and his stark white hair. He is Aelven, that much is obvious to any who see him, but to those familiar with the Aelves of Lauril, something seems amiss... Noting the aproach of another who appears much like him, the new arrival smiles warmly and speaks a few words to him in a light, silvery language. His purple eyes glance around the room a few times, noting those who are in attendance, and eventualy return to Lazarus as he awaits a reply. Slythis walks in from the west. Slythis has arrived. Lazarus replies something in the same language, and then gestures towards the crowd as he speaks, smiling, he then puts his hands behind his back and steps beside the other black robed figure so that he can face the room. The two are much alike in both garb, and general appearance, with the long white hair and light skin. But, unlike most aelves, there is something unnatural perhaps? Something which makes one believe that they are ... different? Then, Lazarus seems to complete his thought, or statement, adding something, he speaks in the same language to the aelf at his side. Gabriel bows to one of the Councilors of Five and nods quickly, too quickly, "Good evening, Lord Serin." He loses a bit of his control to nervousness, but quickly forces himself to calm down. In a calm voice, the merchant continues, smiling, "Yes, Lord, I came to-- hopefully-- be raised. It is something that many want." The young man examines Serin and asks, "How do you decide who will be raised?" Slythis comes in from the ambassabor's quarters, looking around, nervously, and rubs his palms together. He watches the people quietly. Silebtly, he takes in the goings on, and looks for a place to interject. The older man chuckles slightly, watching Gabriel's reaction. "Calm down, Gabriel, you have nothing to be nervious about." Glancing around the room, he says, "How do we choose? When a new member must be called, as you well know, we call for the nobles and the merchants to gather. And once they have gathered, we looks at each one, studying their past, among other things. From that lot, we pick the ones we deem the wisest." His gaze reaches the western doors, and he raises an eyebrow slightly as the Sephnil enters the room. He mutters something to himself, sounding much like 'Those lizards cause trouble I'll have their heads,' but few are close enough to understand fully. Slythis snorts a little, and says "they probably just flip a coin" in his low, guttaral voice. THere is a hint ofsarcasm, maybe mockery in his tone. He wonders how the people will react to the statement. "the government isn't that importnat, to you guys..." then, he resumes watching the ceremony, with a smirk on his face. With a nod and a one-word reply in the same light, silvery language, the newly arrived Aelf, Beurchas turns his attention to another who seems to have just entered the room. "Sephnil," murmurs Beurchas. "Nal-Ferris alaaeri." With a glance back to Lazarus, he again speaks a phrase in their language, and nod shis head toward Slythis. Gabriel nods slowly and comments, having heard the bit about the lizards, "I was talking to some of the Sephnil earlier today. They are rude, you know. And... apparently, they do not like cotton (which I did not offer), nor silk (which I did)." He shrugs and inquires, "Do you think they have something trade-able?" The Lord of Justice glances at Gabriel for a moment, then nods. "Yes, the Saragnoss sephnil tend to be quite rude. I only wish the Veritnoss ambassador was here. I wish him no ill feelings, but I'd rather her the Saragnoss focused on him than me." He glances back at Slythis, and says, "I don't really know what they trade in, but violence." Slythis looks up, at the insult, apparently expecting it, and says "we make better weapons, than you little aelves, and humans. We also don't need clothes, like you little....cretans....we have our own ways. I'm just wearing this for ornament." he sneers a little, and continues watching the seemingly pointless ceremony. he pays attention, even though he feels bored. Replying in common, Lazarus murmurs, "Indeed," as he spots Slythis from a ways off, his height paying off to his advantage. Adjusting his robes, he says something in that lighter language, and begins to move through the crowd. Moving to a point where he can monitor the door to where the sephnil came from, and the sephnil himself, meanwhile staying to the shadows, not allowing himself to be seen. He is very inconspicuous, seeming to blend into the crowds easily, a talent honed over thousands of years, Lazarus moves like an 'old-thief'. Slythis moves over, closer to the seemingly ridiculous ceremony, and wonder why in the darkland they do this...why not just appoint them...well, that's not for him to know...once he gets to closer to the rite, he leans against a wall, and looks around, causually, wondering when it'll get interesting. "why do you need to take so long to do this? You only need them for little matters..." he refers to the elders. Gabriel nods slowly, ignoring the Sephnil ambassador, "Do we have an ambassador to them? I'd be very sorry for him..." He shrugs and examines the lord, "Violence? So, they make good weapons then? That could be a good thing to trade with them, right? You'd have to trade correctly, it would be no good to recieve weapons humans can't use... and what would they want?" Noin walks in from the east. Noin has arrived. Maia walks in from the east. Maia has arrived. Slythis sneers at the insult, and says "you make good beer, that's about all you have better thanus, that we need. and any good warrior can use our weapons...so sorry, maybe you can't use them...but that's not our fault. And be glad for your ambassador, we treat him respectfully, and even let him walk on the firm ground, not the muky swamp, with all of those razrs, but wait, he made us mad, I think we revoked that privelige..." he leands against the pillar, and watches the amusing ceremony. Opening the door to the east from within, a young woman enters the large room which she had left earlier. Nodding to a few of the soldiers in the room, she takes a place near the northern wall of the chamber, giving a slight nod to the woman who follows after her from the library. Noin then glances around to find Lord Serin. The Lord of Justice shrugs slightly, saying, "I don't really know what they trade it, its never been my duty to trade with them, or discuss diplomatic items with them." Turning slightly, he notes the arrival of Lieutenant Noin, and nods to her. Turning from Gabriel, he heads for the front of the room. Maia walks in behind Lt Noin and nods silently to her in return. She quietly finds a seat near the rear of the chamber, nodding to those who know her. Her eyes persue the room slowly once she is seated, noting the occupants closely Looking after Slythis, Lazarus follows Sephnil ambassador from a ways off, meanwhile keeping an eye on the door to the wing which houses the Saragnossian Sephnils, which he swears he can smell from all the way out here.. phew! When he sees Maia enter, he smiles slightly to himself, and considers going to speak with the human woman, but quickly gets his mind back to the matter at hand, and watches Slythis, his eyes flickering around the chamber assesively, considering what tactics the forces of darkness might employ to 'disrupt' the meeting here today, which /could/ turn out to be historic, depending on how wise and productive their selection turns out to be. There are other things which might give it that title, and those too are at the forefront of his thoughts. Slythis smirks a little, maybe noticing the man following him, maybe in amusment at the amusing little ceremony, and maybe, just maybe, about the *other* reason he's wearing the robes. he replies to the snide comment about his odor wiht "hey...we naturally smell this way. If you didn't wash, you'd smell worse than us." in his guttaral voice. he looks around, and says "this is supposed to be a ceremony, right? The one thing you can do really well, which is make beer, you don't have, and it's a party..." he shakes his head, not understand theses strange creatures called humans, and aelves. Slythis smiles dryly, for some reason. could be one of many. he plays with something in his robe. He looks around, and asks"why don't you guys have any drinks or food out, seeing as this is a party...You can do one thing well, make beer, and guess what...you're not usuing a perfect opportunity to show it off to other cultures..." then he mutters "humen and aelves.....bah" he shakes his head, then returns to watching the ceremony. Gabriel nods slowly at the Lord, not saying anything yet, and watches him walk towards the front of the room. He stands silently, waiting for the ceremony to continue. Maia fidgets in her seat and looks around. Her eyes linger on Lazarus but soon drift off to the nearby Sephnil. If their oder bothers her, she makes no sign. Reaching the northern end of the room, Lord Serin turns within the great door way that leads to the council chamber. Glancing over the crowd, he nods to himself, seeing that it is now completely dark outside of the palace. Calling out, he begins, "If everyone will quiet down, it is time for you to learn who has been chosen to replace Lord Gerald, who died but three weeks ago." Noin's eyes stay on Lord Serin once they find him, and from her spot at the northern end of the room, she waits to learn who he will announce as a new member of the Council. Leaning against the wall, her eyes eventually do drift, and they drift towards Slythis. Slythis knows good etiquette, even if he's not showing it now. He quiets down, polietely, and listens with the rest of the people. he looks around bored, but not disrepectful. He wonders who's gonna get stuck with the pointless job. The bored look on Maia's face is replaced by one of curiosity now as Lord Serin speaks. She sits on the edge of the chair, her hands clasped in her lap. Gabriel looks nervous, playing with his shirt as he waits to see if he is (or is not) chosen to replace the late Lord Gerald. Who would not want to be chosen? He sighs and looks at the Lord, hoping he will hurry up and say who the lucky person is. Crossing his hands behind his back, the seemingly infinite patience and wisdom which Lazarus holds to be dear, shine through and he almost seems to delight in watching the humans bud with excitement. Ah.. to be a human, you awake one day, you spend your whole life living to see what will happen to you the next day, and then die. So different from the life of an aelf, indeed. Vorothir walks in from the west. Vorothir has arrived. Lord Serin glances about the room, a slight smile on his lips as he sees all the hopeful faces out in the crowd. To himself he chuckles, thinking of how nearly none of them are suitable to be the Lord of Commerce, how they merely want power. Raising his voice he says, "Lord Gerald was the Lord of Commerce for sixteen years, chosen late in his life because of his vast knowledge of trade. This time, though, the Council wishes to have someone of younger blood." Vorothir shuffles inconspiciously into the foyer of the council chamber at his usual rolling gait, his yellow slitlike eyes scanning the sumptuos marble, so different fromm the swamps of saragnosss, with obvvios bewilderment. He stands uncertaily at the back of the room, watching and trying to get his bearings, with his three-headed flail held in his clawed hands as a sort of reassurance in this strange place. Barrik has arrived. Lord Serrin is in front of the room, about to say who will replace the late Lord Gerald in the Council of Five. Gabriel looks at the Lord, hoping he gets the position as the new Lord of Commerce. He stopped playing with his shirt and is now just playing with his hands. Stepping forward slightly, Lord Serin continues. "Many of you were considered," he lies, then continues, "And quite a few of you almost made it, but did not quite have the skills for which we looked." Scanning the crowd, his eyes fall on Gabriel, then pass on. Turning and taking a step towards the northern door, nodding to Noin as he does so, he stops, creating a dramatic pause in which even the sounds of breathing are muted. Turning, he calls out, "As the new Lord of Commerce, I name Gabriel L'Avarre." Standing a bit straighter, Noin's eyes scan the crowd for any who might cause trouble at this crucial moment. A hand rests on the hilt of her rapier, though casually in order to not seem threatening to anyone watching her. Slythis applauds, appropriately, as he feels he should, but feels no emotion, behind the symbolic clapping. He makes little noise, as his scales make a barely audible click, click, click. Seeing a weapon about to be drawn, he fingers something in his golden robe. He looks over to Noin, and sneers a little. Maia lets out a breath as the new Lord is announced. Her eyes flit to Noin as Lord Serin nods to the Leuitenant. She smiles faintly, at some private thought, perhaps. Gabriel is shocked, he really is. He remains in his place the same way he was before he announced the name, except without moving his hands. The merchant looks blankly, not being able to believe that he was chosen among all of the people that were considered for this position. Vorothir sees Noins hand stray to her rapier and a low growl rumbles through his deep chest, as he unwraps th flail from around his arm and moves imperceptibly toward slythis Though a slight smile appears on his face, Beurchas does not clap. Even if he wanted to, his handicap would prevent it. He looks to the one named to the Council and chuckles slightly. Resting heavily on his staff, a sigh escapes from the Aelf as he glances to the others. He notes with some concern the actions of Noin and the overreactions of the sephnil, but he does not move from his place. Turning his head from them, his gaze focuses toward the council. His eyes look as if he is about to face some great task. Slythis looks at the approaching fellow Sephnil, and mutters/whispers sternly to him "we don't want to start war." he shakes his finger sharply, to issulstrate his point. He looks around, to see if there is anything else that might be indicative of trouble. he plays with that something in his robe, some more. Motioning Gabriel to come forward, Lord Serin continues, "With the new Lord announced, I will move on to ask if anyone else has business with the council this moment? Some pressing matter, perhaps?" He raises an eyebrow at the crowd, making sure they understand that trivial things will be looked upon poorly. He ignores the overreactions of the Sephnil. Quite obviously ignoring the Sephnil, her face schooled to complete blankness, Noin gives her hand casually on the hilt of her rapier, ready, but not threatening, as the Sephnil have quite obviously mistaken her actions as being. Vorothir nods his large flat head submissively "I don't either..just wwanted to be sure she didn't ty anything funny" he says in a low rumble that is his nearest attempt at a whisper..but a few heads in the nearby crowd turn nonetheless, staring at the sephil then turning back to the platform Gabriel snaps to his senses and walks towards the the Lord slowly. He returns to normality as soon as he arrives to the front. The new Lord of Commerce looks at Lord Serin quietly, not knowing what he should do and still too surprised (and happy) to think clearly. Beurchas looks up quickly at the mention of other business. Yet another sigh escapes the Aelf before he begins. With grace and quickness he moves to the center of the room. Though one of his hands is mising, the other holds a staff crafted of some strange black wood and topped with a shimmering blue crystal ball. He holds the staff above his head, and the crystal bursts into blue flame. His mouth does not move, but everybody, no matter what language they may speak, 'hears', "I, Beurchas Raedalthlen, Chief Szethil of Khethlin and representative of the Yilras, must speak." Hear, however, may be a poor choice of wording, for he does not speak. It is a though directly forced into the minds of all present. The Aelf demands attention, and will not be denied. With patience and a smile, Lazarus regards the .. oh yeah, he can smell them.. the sephnil, then turns his gaze towards Noin who seems to be keeping their attention. His hands behind his back hold no mundane weapons, but /do/ hold a weapon of sorts. When he hears Serin ask for others to bring forth their issues, he slowly cuts his gaze towards the man he calls his brother, Beurchas and smiles slightly. Slythis rubs at his head a little, as it is invaded, with foreign magical thoughts. He turns and faces the Aelf, who is holding the shimmering staff above his head. He grimaces a little, at the power of the message, and forgets about his dagger. he mumbles "I wonder what he wants" to no one in particular. Lord Serin turns as Beurchas makes his presence known and 'speaks.' Taking a step forward, hands clasped behind his back, the Lord of Justice nods towards the aelf. "A representative of the Yilras, you say. I cannot say that I know of your Yilras, but I note your differences from those of the Ananya nation. What words would you have heard here?" "Nothing good, by the black pool" mutters Vorothir, edging closer to slythis "What is it on his staff there that glows..I'd give quite a few aRazar pelts for a trinket like that" he scans teh room for threats again, flail held ready, but sees none Slythis nods, and says as softly as he can "That'd be a great token of the Yilras's friendship to us, don't you think?". He smiles demonically, and shrugs, he speaks again, in a soft voice "maybe they'll give it to us." he muses. That's gotta be worth lots. After a quick glance around the room and a slight grin directed to Lazarus, the face of Beurchas becomes very serious. He lowers his staff, though a glow remains in the blue crystal. "Perhaps when we have more time I will teach you of my people. This, however, is not that time. While I do not entirely understand your customs, it is obvious that this is an important day for all of you, and for some a day of celebration." Perhaps the foreign Aelf misunderstands all of this day's intent. "I come with a warning." He glances to the sephnil. "Not only to those of Linas, but to people of every nation and race that live upon this world." Slythis takes a step back, and wonders what this little Aelf will say. He doesn't knwo weather to be amused, or to take it seriously. He pays attention, none the less. Barrikstands at the very back of the room. Hand at the hilt of his beautifuly crafted dragon hilted longsword scanning the room awaiting the start of any trouble. No one notices the huge man in the back of the room, and he would like it no other way. Maia , like the sephnil, pays attention as well. She now sits back in her chair though and watches through half-closed lids. She seems to be relieved somehow. Perhaps she was dreading the choice of councilman and now is relaxed. Lord Serin watches Beurchas closely, his eyes narrowing. A hand sign is flashed to the Lieutenant where she stands to his right, and then he steps forward to speak once more. "I would have more knowledge of the Yilras given to me before I would place into my trust one of their own. A simple precaution. I think you'll understand." Serin's eyes go to the rear of the room, indeed seeing Barrik, since the man is one of the Lord's Knights. To Beurchas, he continues, "This threat, I wonder, does it come from you, or do you merely warn on it?" Noin's hand tightens on the hilt of her rapier now, but her attention in no way focused on the sephnil now, but instead on this strange aelf. To herself she mutters, "Please let us avoid violence this night.." Only Lord Serin is close enough to hear her, though other who know her might infer. At the sound of the word "threat" vorothirs large flat head jerks up, his slitted eyes staring intently at the speaker as he listens with open ears for the news Gabriel just looks at Beurchas and at the Lord of Justice, remaining in his place and silent, listening to what the aelf has to say and how Serin responds to what he says. Beurchas frowns slightly. "Our tale is long and sorrowful, Lord. We Yilras once lived in fair Lauril among our kin of the Ananya nation, as it is known to you." He pauses, as if considering in what way to best tell the tale. "To keep it short, I will be blunt. We were exiled, called traitors. Perhaps you have heard of what is called the War of Brothers that caused Aelf to lift sword against Aelf. We, the Yilras, are those who were defeated and cast out of Lauril. Exiled into a world that held no love for us. But we struggled and have since overthrown our evils." Pausing again, he looks to Lazarus, but speaks to the gathered people as a whole. "That is why I am here. To warn you of the evil that was our downfall, so that you would not fall under Her power. I speak of Faris, the Demoness. To the Aelves She came, and She ripped us in two. Now she comes again, but her task is far greater." Looking directly at the Lord of Justice he adds, "And it is far more evil." Lord Serin comes close to staring at Beurchas. After a moment he says, "Yes, I have heard of the War of Brothers. And perhaps you are who you say you are. I can easily imagine that some escaped that bloody war to continue on." He shakes his head, "But this.. Faris? You wish me to believe some demon is coming to destroy my nation, a faerie tale to bring down the peak of human civilization." Slythis nods at the blunt speaking of the danger. He seems to be takeing it seriously. He stares intently at the man with the magic rod. He looks up at the man, transfixed, and asks "what is it's purpose, now?" he asks the question that almost everyone is probably thinking. He rolls his head, and awaits an answer from the Aelf speakin. Barriktightens up and gets ready for anything that might happen, for that he noticed some shifting after the words his lord, and the words the aelf have just spoken. Vorothir does not have overly grat intellignce, and this discussion of Farris has him lost..he looks form person to person with evident bewilderrment in his slitlike eyes, gripping his flail even tighter Slythis looks up to the Aelf=wizard, presumably, and asks him "what is this Farris going to do to all of us?", the question that has been nagging at him, since the beggining of the story. he plays with his uncomfortable robes, and scratches at something on his chest. Faltering slightly, Beurchas looks to Lazarus. The fire within him, however, is not dead. "I am Beurchas Raedalthlen, Seer and Oracle. I have seen many things before their time. And I have seen Faris and her armies of foul creatures swarming over this human 'civilization' and laying your lives to waste unless you prepare. You cannot imagine Her power, or the size of her legions. I am not here to offer you a choice, I am here to tell you what will happen. If you do not properly prepare for attack, you will be destroyed, and so will everything you hold dear in this nation." As he begins this speech the crystal atop his staff once again flares to bright life, and while speaking of the armies of Faris, images appear around the black-robed Aelf. Smoke...Darkness...Fire..Buildings razed..People slaughtered in streets. Behind all the quickly changeing images, however, is on constant image. An image of blood-red eyes and a fanged grin. "Those eyes have been in my dreams every night for the past five hundred years, th ough it took me nearly half of that to understand exactly what they were. Faris will not only destroy you, but she will enslave your very soul. Her power is great. Greater than anything you have ever seen." The images stop, and the crystal again dims to only a slight glow. Slythis doesn't seem to care that the evil Ferris lady will come and kill all of the humans...hey...one less annoyance to the superior race, the Sephnils...hey seems to take the Aelf-oracle as a loony, not far from all of the other humans, and Aelves, and finds him amusing, but doesn't show anything on his face. Milranata has arrived. Milranata walks into the foyer in a firm stride, thought producing little sound. Barrik stares in horror as he sees the future that will become of his people, he makes a silent promise to himself, "This will not happen to my people for as long as I live." Watching Beurchas carefully, listening to his tale but trying to ignore the images he plants in her mind, Noin grits her teeth. As the aelven-mage uses his staff to create the images to accompany his speech, she takes a step forward. Death and destruction.. Things she hates more than any other. As he finishes, she flings a hand towards the mage, pointing at him, and crying out to him, "Why do you come here to show images of death and hate at what should have been a perfect evening?" Her hand keeps a white knuckled grip on the hilt of her rapier. Milranata steps back, surprised by the scene before her, her whole pose demonstrating that she's quite alert to her surroundings now Gabriel looks at the images and pales a bit, turning quickly towards the lord to see how will the Lord of Justice react. Thoughts swarm throughout his head, 'What is the point in living if she'll come and destory everything?' but this one seems to be more on his mind, 'What can we do?' The merchant turns towards the Yilras and manages to ask, "What can be done, then, if she is the most powerful thing we have ever seen?" Slythis smirks at Noin's attitude. He chuckles silent;y, and pipes up "It wouldn'tda been perfect....no food, drink, no music....nothing to do." AFter having put his two cent's worth in, he leans on a status, and watches the rest of the action. The Lord Serin keeps a hard eyed stare directed at Beurchas, unable to avoid the images but not trully trying. The old man might be telling truth... so merely trying to cause trouble. A pity, really. Before he can respond though, Noin's control apparently snaps. Moving towards her and putting a hand on her shoulder to hold her back, he her name to her quietly, to get her attention, then turns his gaze to Beurchas, "What purpose do you have to frighten these people here with your images of death? They are peaceful men and women, and are not accustomed to violence. Speak, aelf." He pauses, though, realizing the number of questions that have been directed at the mage. The aelf who resembles Beurchas very closely, and is noted by several people as so, is Lazarus. He watches everyone closely, especially those who seem to be upset at his depiction of the future, and of how he has chosen to play with their rather...weak.. minds. As people watch Beurchas, it gives him the opportunity to move more easily, and he does so, working around towards his fellow Yilras' side. He is silent the whole time, chosing to allow his brother to respond as he will, and to disclose as he will. He is the 'leader' afterall, of this motley group of Szethil. Milranata glances at the faces of the folk surrounding her and silently takes a few steps to bring her closer to Beurchas Vorothir has stood here listening to the flow of talk go back and forth..unlike thoe older sephil he does not understand that this threat only pertains to humans, and is watching the crystal on Beurchas's staff with mezmerized attention "Peace-loving? Do you think we were not peace-loving before she came to us?" Beurchas responds directly to Serin, ignoring the others. "Faris cares nothing for your peace, or your civilization. I have come to bring you the truth, and to warn you. She can be defeated, and has been. We defeated her...trapped her...but she returns with hordes of creatures unknown to us and powers greater than anything any archmage of this world has ever known..." It is at this point that something seems to slow him down, or grab at his attention. He fights through it. "Unless we prepare.." Still he falters. He leans heavily on his staff, and is visibly sweating. Something seems to be..invading..dominating his mind. The glow of the crystal atop his staff which has, until now, ben totaly of a dark blue color, is now swirled with deep blood red. Noin fights against Serin's grip for a moment, then stops, staring dully at Beurchas, releasing the hilt of her rapier. Backing away a few steps, she leans against the wall, closing her eyes as she tilts her head back. Her hands grip her pants, and she tries to get ahold of herself. Slythis looks afraid now. The mighty Aelf is getting taken over. His face turns a few shades lighter, and he looks on in terror. He wonders if this is just an act, or if it is fulkly real. He gets scared, as the glow chenges from blue, to red. Milranata watches Beurchas with a slight frown upon her delicate features. A deeply troubled expression settles on her face and she takes a few more steps to approach the struggling Aelf. Lord Serin watches Beurchas with much the same expression as before. As Noin begins to move back, he releases her, and takes a step forward, realizing the possibilties in this. Perhaps this Faris is real after all. Quick hand singles flash, and several Knights of Justice move from the crowd to surround Beurchas, staying for the moment two yards away from the mage. "What is it, aelf?" He has his hand held up, a signal to the Knights to hold. Vorothir stares at the ball, even more mesmerized than before..but his coarse mind is not so easy to dominate. He begins to move toward the platform and the soruce of apparent danger, the crystal, slowly uncoiling th e long black chain of his flail from around his rope-veined forearm Gabriel looks at the aelf that was talking a few moments ago, perplexed, not knowing what exactly is happening to the Yilras. His mind is on this Faris, though, why does she want to do all this? Is she real or is this only an illusion? Milranata moves her gaze from Beurchas onto the crystal ball, seeing its change in color. She takes another step towards it. The blue and the red within the crystal seem to be doing battle with each other. Leaning heavily on the staff, Beurchas, too, seems to be struglling with something deep within himself. Through gritted teeth, the Aelf says, "Lazarus.." and seems to want to say more, but his strength fails him. He reaches with his other arm toward the other Aelf, his sleeve that covers where his hand would be slides down his thin arm, showing that Beurchas lacks one of his hands. "She....She is coming..." Light pulsates with the violently swirling colors of light. Eventually though, the Red is the victor, and though the body of Beurchas still seems to be struggling, it is forced to move. His lips move, but the voice that comes through is not Aelven. It is, instead, dark, and deep. It resonates sheer power. The Red has fully taken over, and with a loud laugh, 'Beurchas' says, "No, I am here." Vorothir manages somehow to shake off the effects of the mesmerizing crystal momentarily, and he acts with astonishing speed developed inn years of hunting. He twitches his massive wrists and his flail uncoils, its 6 foot chain snapping taut and arching like a living thing over the heads of the Knights, the three lead-spiked balls heading straigh tfor the crystal.. Milranata's eyes widen as Beurchas is taken over by a power and a shudder runs down her spine Slythis loos astonished at the act, but is happy with it inside, fulfilling Sssra's orders is good, even if done indirectly. page Vor=I gotta an assaian's tool...my knife...:-) As Lord Serin waits for an answer from the aelven arch-mage, he watches in disbelief at this apparent possession. His hand moves down, and the knights begins to move forward. Before they get far though, Vorothir makes his move, and Serin yells out at the Knights. Two turn towards Vorothir, while half of the rest turn their attention back on the crowd, shoving them away. Gabriel is completely shocked by the turn of events. First, he is being raised to the position of Lord of Commerce, then some aelf begins warning of a demoness, and suddenly she appears (or is it her illusion?). Slythis draws his poisoned knife, as the guards advance on his friend. he bradishes the knife with skill, he stays on defense, although he looks ready to throw a deadly throw, if needed. His eyes widen, and Lazarus looks towards Beurchas, and he begins to realize what is happening, and he says quietly so that only Beurchas or... Faris.. can hear in aelvish, "It seems the battle begins vile demoness, now begone, or I will destroy you as in this vessel you are weakened, begone!" He takes Beurchas in one arm, and with his other he raises his hand up, his fingers glowing with a green energy which swirls about his fingers. The sudden blow strikes home. The blood-red crystal flares to new brightness. Beurchas's possessed eyes look quickly to Lazarus, but to him litle heed is paid as suddenly the crystals light grows. "No!" shouts the voice from within Beurchas. The crystal shatters, the light flares to blinding levels and is gone. The body of Beurchas hangs limp in the arm of Lazarus, and above everyone float to blood red eyes and fanged teeth. "Fools!" laughs Faris. She repeats herself, and the image of the eyes slowly fades, though her laughter can be heard. Beurchas is inert. His muscles have lost ther life. He drops his staff, and the wood hits the ground and lands on top of the broken crystal. From the corner of the Aelf's mouth flows a trickle of blood. Milranata shudders once more from the sheer power of the shattering crystal. She watches wide eyed as for a moment Faris takes a visible form, the terrible laughter piercing her heart with a feeling she had hoped to never have to feel again. Vorothir gives a deep bellow of pain and rage taht echoes through the hall as energy from the broken crystal surges like fire down the chain, and seaars innto the scaled skin of his arm. He drops the flail and grips at his forearm, which is now covered with blotches of charred, smoking flesh Slythis looks amazed, as the demoness cries out, and as the magical pole is proken. He looks to Vorothir, and says "you fool! why'd you do that? THat was an expensive, neat thing. If he couldn't have it, someone esle should've." he doesn't srtike the other Sephnil, but if looks could kill... Gabriel's face is very pale, he shakes in his boots and takes a step back when the crystal explodes. The merchant looks at Beurchas after the explosion and tries to see what happened to him. The two knights directed at Vorothir grab on to the sephnil just as the crystal is shattered, and hold on tightly. The other knights set to watch Beurchas back away from him as the ghastly image appears, and the Lord Serin seems to be glaring at Beurchas. "Aelf. You will not leave Linas till I have spoken to you further." He throws off a hand signal to the knights, and they close in on the two aelves. "You are obviously weakened, but we will care for you. Then, you will tell us what you know." Noin's eyes snap open at the sound of the crystal's shattering. Shoving off the wall, apparently in control again, she moves to stand behind Lord Serin, hands carefully away from the hilt of her rapier. Her eyes look to a spot just above Beurchas' head. Vorothir vaguely notices th two knights grabbign him and gives a start of pain as one tocuhes the charred flesh of his forearm..but he is drained and weak, to hurt to truly care or notice for the moment "I'm sorry Lord Serin, but I'm afraid I need to take my weakend brother here home," Lazarus ammends and scoops up Beurchas' staff. He then hefts Beurchas slightly more in his arm and starts to turn around. His hands still glowing with green energy which seeps into Beurchas, causing the bleeding to stop. Milranata closes her eyes then opens them and turns. Silently she exits the foyer, the whole feeling about her telling people not to approach her Lord Serin grimaces, "I will allow you to leave, but only because I fear there are none here currently who could stop you. But if you do not return, mark my words, I will find mages to hunt you down, one way or another." Flicking a hand to the two knights with Vorothir, they begin to move off, taking him to the prison cells. Nodding to the other knights encircling Lazarus and his fallen companion, they back away from them, pushing the crowd back. "We will meet again, mage." Vorothir allows himslef to be led to the prison cell as docile as a lamb. THough hge has faced battle and wounds bravely there is a stragne power in the red fire that has drained him. Smiling, Lazarus carries Beurchas from the room, giving one last warning over his shoulder to all those present, "Prepare for her arrival, Faris /is/ here, and we must be ready to rise up against her." With that, he and his fellow dark-robe disappear. After a moment, Noin turns from the people in the room, and begins walking towards the library where she can escape it for a moment. Serin obviously has things in hand, or she wouldn't consider it. Opening the doors and passing within, she is gone. Gabriel walks out of the Foyer and into the courtyard, his family HAS to hear about this as soon as possible. - The Bard's Song
-
The Inn of the Silver Badger Cheerful voice exits the
bright, and often open windows of the Inn of the Silver
Badger. During the day, the bright sunlight beams into
the large entry chamber; the tavern. At night, the tavern
is alight with brilliant lights of the torches, hidden in
sconces upon the walls. Maids and barmaids weave in and
out of the usually crowded chamber. Always does a smile
seem plastered upon their lips. Some come from the
kitchen, on the other side of the front door, to the
doors right. Others come from a stairway, opposite from
the front door. Contents: Maia Jerric Obvious exits: West
(W) leads to Kitchen. Up (U) leads to Second Floor. Out
(O) leads to Street of Peace.
Milranata walks into the Inn with an absent expression on her face, obviousely too deep in thought to notice the details of her surroundings. She takes a seat at an empty table and lays her harp in her lap, lovingly running her fingers along the carved frame. Then with a small sigh the Yilras Aelf looks up and motions for a serving girl to come to her. "Bring me a glass of water, girl," she orders in a soft voice. Milranata stares blindly at the retreating form of the girl then blinks, as if realizing where she is for the first time, and looks around the room. Opening the doors of the inn quietly, and stepping into the inn even more quietly, Jerric glances around the inn's common room for any familar faces. Seeing none, he shrugs, and glances around again, this time looking for interesting faces. His eyes find the absent minded Milranata, and moving towards her, he takes the glass of water from the returning serving lady. Placing the glass on the table in front of the aelf, he says, "This is what m'lady ordered, yes?" Milranata looks at the glass in front of her then up at the man with her glittering catlike eyes. She nods slightly, "Indeed it is. I thank you for serving me my drink, young man." Grinning slightly, he says, "Young? I suppose you could say that." He walks around the table to where a second chair is, but does not sit, instead leaning against it, "As I can easily see, you own a harp. You are well trained in its use, I assume?" Milranata measure the man coolly with her gaze, "Better than anything you've heard before." Jerric grins, shifting his stance a bit, "Don't be so sure of that, I've heard more than you might think in my seventy-seven years. Sevens are lucky though, so perhaps I have found someone with talents better than any I have heard before." Holding a hand out to her, he says, "I'm Jerric Travance, m'lady." Milranata looks down at his hand and makes no move to take it, instead picking up the glass and taking a sip of the water. "My name is Milranata." Grimacing slightly, the half-aelf retracts his hand, clasping it in the other and leaning his elbows on the table, "A pleasure to meet you, Milranata." His eyes note slight differences to her, but he doesn't comment. Definately not of the Ananya though. Odd. "You would play a song for me sometime, to prove your talent?" Milranata puts the glass down on the table and looks at him, considering in her eyes. Then she nods, "If you wish it, I will play now." Her hands lower to the harp in her lap, and she almost strokes it. Jerric nods his head slightly, his emerald green eyes on her eyes. "If you would, I would be grateful. Great music is rare in the world, and a treasure beyond measure." Standing up, he moves off a foot or two to lean against on of the posts that support the building. Milranata moves her chair back from the table and positions her harp upright. She touches the strings of it softly without sound for several moments, then a melody starts flowing from underneath her fingers. An old melody, starting quietly but overtaking the room bit by bit. It is beautiful, and yet it is sad beyond measure. It speaks of killing. It talks of war. It sings of war between kin. Milranata's voice joins the melody in an ancient tribute to an ancient battle where brother turned against brother and son against father. Old pains, old wounds. Old memories. Jerric nods in time with the music, listening to it closer than perhaps any other in the room. The tell is not unknown to him, he shares its heritage. The War of Brothers, it speaks of. He closes his eyes for a moment, allowing the music to shape his imagination. The skill of Milranata cannot be disputed. She truly is the best the half-aelf has heard. Milranata laces her voice through the delicate melody of her harp, lost to the music and to the tale. Indeed it is the War of the brothers that she sings. The War into which she was born. The War into which she has lost so much. With a pain that comes deep from a soul, no matter how tormented and shredded she sings out the pain of people long dead, lost to the horrible battles. Her fingers touch the strings gently yet the melody that fills the room is strong. Milranata's voice, so soft when she speaks, now has as much force as the words it sings. Clear and strong it creates the images that are long imprinted into her heart The inn's common room is quiet except for the sound of the harp and the singing, everyone's eyes on the bard, the hears listening, their mouths shut unless open in a sort of stunned astonishment. The Half-aelf leans against the pillar, one foot proped against it and his arms crossed, his head tilted forward again. They will remember this, he thinks, all these men and women will never forget this song. Milranata fills the room with her song as she reaches the peak of her anguished tale. And then slowly the song stats to recede, as a wave which washed onto the shore and was pulled back into the ocean. The battles are gone. The people are dead. All that remains is a bard's song in a small inn. A memory. Milranata's voice is the first to leave the melody, which continues flowing from underneath her fingers before even it dies out. But only after the song has entered the minds and hearts of those who heard it. Milranata's eyes open, she closed them while singing, and she looks down at her harp, running her slender fingers down it's exquisitely carved frame Smiling slightly, as he had been for several minutes, Jerric says to Milranata, without looking up, "Beautifully done, my lady." He uncrosses on arm and waves it slightly at those gathered in the inn before bringing it back to rejoin the other, crossed. "These people will remember this song until they die, and will likely be better people for it. Music is a very powerful gift." Milranata looks up at the man, her eyes cold, the feeling she awakened locked back inside. "It is indeed." She moves back to her table and lays her harp upon it, picking up the glass to take a thirsty gulp. "I assume the song was to your satisfaction, Jerric." Jerric nods his head slightly, eyes still closed, head tilted forward. The smile remains. "Indeed, it was, Milranata. The best I myself have heard, and the best these people would ever dream of hearing. They are simple people, locked in the time of now. They have no windows into the past. But you opened a door for them to see through anyways. A great talent, one of the greatest." Milranata glances up at Jerric with a strange expression in her eyes, "Would I that I was locked in such a peaceful time." The smile turns to a slight smirk, for a moment, "Peaceful? You could say that. No wars being fought, no one dying for a useless cause.. No legends being born." He shakes his head slightly, "These people, some of them, long for the time you sing of, where they could do something other than hoe a field, where they would be able to think they were serving a purpose, defending their people. Perhaps not the correct thing to wish for, but all men long to be a part of something bigger than themselves." Milranata shakes her head, "I sing of a time of pain. I sing of death. Death is an ugly thing, young Jerric. Even if it hides in beautiful music. Perhaps if my music deceives I should stop singing at all." Jerric chuckles slightly, "I know very well you sing of death, Milranata. But these people do not truly know death. You do not deceive them, it is merely something they cannot truly comprehend." He looks up at her for a moment, "They think of the glory of battle, of being the hero of their people. Not a hope likely to be fulfilled. So sing, Milranata. Give these people dreams. If they comprehend the pain, the death, they will avoid it all the more. And if it comes to a war in this peaceful time, their hopes will help them defend their homes with a strength of will they may never possess again." Straightening from the post, he turns towards the door, then looks over his shoulder at the bard, "Goodbye for now, m'lady. Keep your harp tuned." Milranata leans back in her chair and watches Jerric with glittering yellow eyes, "Farewell, young dreamer. May hope not abandon your heart like it has so many others." - Clear Winter Day
-
Plaza of Linas This is the Plaza of Linas, the grandest
plaza in the city. The plaza is surrounded on all sides
by tall buildings of gleaming marble and shining blue
roof tiles. In the very center of the plaza a great
fountain sprays water high into the air, only to come
crashing back down into the great basin around it. Stalls
like the edges of the Plaza, some even set up inside the
plaza, turning it into a bazaar almost. Merchants have
parked their wagons to sell their goods to the people,
and the people have stopped their gossip to buy. All
streets come to the Plaza, in the end. To the northeast
the Palace Gates can be seen, guarding the Palace of the
Council, where the Lords and Ladies of Linas rule the
nation. Streets sprout off of the plaza, going south,
east and west, and northwest, spreading out to reach the
four city gates. Stores sell their wares east and west,
and south, selling from more permenant stuctures than
those seen here. Contents: DorLan Opi Noin Obvious exits:
Northeast (NE) leads to Courtyard - Palace of the
Council. Northwest (NW) leads to Republic Street. East
(E) leads to Street of Peace. West (W) leads to Street of
Peace. South (S) leads to Winter's Avenue.
Walking into the Plaza of Linas with a purposeful stride, Lieutenant Noin leaves the Palace of the Council in the northeast, passing underneath its gates rather quickly as she makes her way towards the great fountain in the center of the plaza. The afternoon crowds part around her, glancing at her uniform, and she arrives quickly. Opi was walking slowly through the busy noontime plaza munching on an apple as somebody enters and the crowds part like water on a ships bow.. He looks around trying to see who causes the common folk to move in such a way, laughing to himself he spots Noin and shouts, "Bullying the commoners now Lieutenant?" Violet eyes flash towards Opi, and their owner frowns, "Don't you have something better to do than harass me on one of the few clear days these winter has given us, Opi? Really." She smiles slightly, and takes a seat on the fountains rim, "How are you, today?" Opi's body shakes with laughter at the grumpy woman, "Perk up.. The sun is shining, and nobody is trying to kill me!" He grins at her and slowly makes his way towards her, "How have I been... hrmm, pretty good. I got to sleep last night which is close to a first, you?" Noin smirks slightly, shaking her head. "I'm am enjoying the day, kid. I'm glad you got to sleep last night and glad no one is trying to kill you today. I, on the other hand, did not get any sleep. I was working on reports through the night, trying to sort this big mess out. You really are a pain, you know." She smiles slightly. Opi nods his head at her, "Thats what people keep telling me at least.. I'm a pain." Grinning he takes another bite of his apple. "And why were you filling out paper work all night? Nothing has happened... Yet." Noin shakes her head, "Plently has happened. They're trying to find out who this Jack is, and to put an end to him.. And I had to make sure you wouldn't be thrown in jail right beside him. I think its luck alone they haven't tried to capture you yet. You need to be careful." Opi shakes his head at her, "I told you.. I can run, and I can hide... As for Jack, I doubt he'll surface for a bit, after losing a few of his men the other night he wont be in good messures with anybody currently." Noin narrows her eyes slightly... "Just how many of them are there?" Opi thinks for a moment.. "Them, you mean him and his men? Well.. I'm not exactly sure, upwards of twenty, maybe twenty-five.. maybe even higher. I'm not certain, thieves are never in the same place long. And never gather in numbers too large. For some safety is in numbers, but not a thief. Best of on yer own if yer on the run from somebody." He pauses for a moment, "If you want to kill a beast, you take its head.. Thats what I plan on doin." Noin watches Opi as he talks, eyes on his eyes. When he finishes, she asks, "And you are determined to do it all on your own, instead of letting someone else do it and leave your hands free of his blood? They might arrest you, no matter what I did. I'm not exactly one of the influencial members of the army." Opi shakes his head and shrugs, "What does it matter to me.. My future isnt exactly inviting, I've nothing to look forward to as some do." He clenches his fist, "But one thing in my future is certain, I will have his blood for what hes done.."" Noin nods slightly, just watching Opi for a moment and remaining silent. Finally, she says, "Why do you think you've nothing to look forward too? You yourself said you wanted to get out of all this.. And I know you could do it if you really tried. You strike me as that kind of person." Opi chuckles quietly as if she had just made a really funny remark, "Really Noin.. what do I have to offer to anybody? I have no skills.. That are what people would call honest, I've been taught since I was a child to do what only puts me into danger and gets me into trouble. And if I'm caught, its to a nice little cell for me.. But its the only skill I have, the only thing I'm good at.. I dont expect you to understand that." Noin shakes her head slightly, "Maybe I don't understand it.. I just don't believe thats all you are capable of. Surely theres something you can do. There are hundreds of jobs out there that you could try.. And some of them would probably need your skills.." She looks thoughtful for a moment.. "Perhaps you could even make it your job to hunt down other thieves." Opi scratches his head for a second, "Nah.. Theres only one I want dead.. The others are doing the same thing I used to do, they havnt murdered anybody, and they surely havnt done any of the things Jack has, they get by doing whatever they can. And if thats not honest, I dont know what is." He sighs deeply. "Life would have been better if I had had rich parents.. Or parents at all." Noin sighs slightly, then mutters to herself slightly, "You know the city Opi, you know where the bad areas are, where to get information. You could get the thieves who are really causing trouble, and get the murders, and rapist.. All the trash that pollutes the city you could help bring in.." She smiles slightly, "A bounty hunter, if you will." He laughs at her and walks over to a nearby cart selling various bits and pieces. He removes a small package from his tunic and hands it to the carts owner in exchange for a few bits of gold. Moving back to Noin he looks her in the eye, "And why would you care what happens to a piece of street filth such as me?" Noin narrows her violets eyes, then sighs, "Why does it matter? Can't you see I'm trying to help you? I don't like seeing people all sadden and sorrowful, there's no reason for it." She shakes her head, "If you wanted to, if you tried, I don't think you would be street filth, I think you'd be something better." Opi smiles softly at her, "I'm not sad.. Never have been, life is hard for everyone. And I always try to look on the better side of things.. Well most the time at least, but I know my potential. I you think too highly of it, especially since there isnt much there to think about. "Ahh.. There is one thing you could do for me though." Noin nods her head slightly, "What is that?" Opi reaches back behind his back and under his cloak. Sliding his arm out with it he brings a finely crafted blade, long and thin with a gentle curve, a little over three feet long. The handle is wrapped in a white cloth. "I had Dorlan make it.. Its light enough not to be a burden if I carry it on my back at all times.. But I need a swordsmans opinion.. Well swords woman will do." He holds his hands out with the weapon resting on his palms. DorLan walks in from the south. DorLan has arrived. Noin nods her head slightly, standing up to take the hilt of the weapon from Opi. Turning it over in her hands, a flash of light from the blade cause her eyes to flash for a moment, she settles it into her left head, gripping the hilt firmly. A few people back away from her, but she does nothing more than turn and twist her arm slightly, seeing how the blade shifts. After a moment, she says, "Very well balance, Opi... Who made it?" She turns back to him, shifting the blade to offer him the hilt. Dorlan was walking on the road in this beautiful day. He didn't have any work for today so he decides to move around. As he turns the corner, he sees the people talking to Opi about his sword. DorLan hears the girl asking who made the blade. Then Dorlan says,"It's me who did this blade. Want anything?" Dorlan seems really proud of the sword, one of his work. Opi grins at her approval and takes his sword back, sliding it upwards behind it back it slips snugly into its sheathe. "DorLan, the new smithy.. Hes a good man, friendly and hard working." As Dorlan walks up he turns and grins at the stout man, "Hello blacksmith." Noin turns to look Dorlan over, nodding her head slightly as both of the men talk. "Greetings, DorLan. A fine blade.." She shakes her head though, "I would consider getting a blade of your creation, but my own blade was my father's, and I have no wish to ever replace it." Dorlan nods to the women and moves his hand to her. Then he takes the hand and he gives a kiss to her. Dorlan says,"I know what you mean by this, but everybody need one day an other weapons. Dorlan looks a little bit more happy. Opi almost chuckles as Dorlan kisses her hand but stifles it and keeps a straight face, "See what I was saying.. Hes a very friendly guy." He slaps Dorlan on the back playfully. Noin laughs lightly, "So he is, so he is." She shakes her head slightly, "Maybe, DorLan, but I take good care of my rapier, and it'll last as long as I can possibly get it to last. I'll never let it break.. I'll get a new one before that.." She laughs.. "Well, it seems you are right, I will eventually get a new one." Dorlan moves a little bit back and looks around. Then he says slowly, "Miss, just came to my shop when you will be in need of anything" Dorlan looks proud of his shop. Then he looks at the group and he says,"Does any of you want to drink something?" Opi shakes his head in declination of the blacksmiths offer, "No.. I must decline, its rather dull at the inn this time of day, and I wont be back there for a few days.. I have some things to do anyway." He nods to Dorlan, then smiles in Noin's direction and walks off towards Winter's Avenue. Noin shakes her head as well, "Sorry, Dorlan. Its the first clear day in a long while. I'd like to enjoy it a little longer before I have to return to the base, or go on a patrol of the city. Hopefully they'll let me sleep tonight." She yawns slightly. Dorlan nods to the two persons, then he says,"It's ok, I will walk away in the city, and remember if you need anything just ask me!" Dorlan moves his hand as a salutation and he starts to walk away.