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Post by Shyl on Feb 23, 2009 16:45:48 GMT -5
ill leave it vague, just grab a char, any race or class:
We open on our group as they see who was left of thier survivng band of mercenaries, one of them had betrayed them and gotten most of the band of 20 or so men, killed outright for reasons beyond their understanding
Nalarion stared down at one fo his friends, his face distorted by rage. He looked around at his remaining friends, the few standing searching for survivors among the wreckage. only 20 or so men here had been reduced substantially to those walking aimlessly in disbelief at the carnage caused by one mans betrayal. Many of these men had families they had to get back to, a look af conceded resignation passed across his face. This man would pay for his treacherous acts. His biggest mistake was leaving this elf and his remaining companions alive, motivated by revenge for his fallen comrades Nalarion would follow him to the seas of Garand if need be, His sword would taste the blood of that vile refuse, if he deeemed his blade worthy to be despoiled by his blood and not use some cheap dagger on him. He glanced around looking for soldiers with determination still within them, he scanned for soldiers who would meet his gaze.
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Post by Black Cherry Cola on Feb 24, 2009 0:46:18 GMT -5
Janissary burst out of the half-caved in tent, her blue eyes wild, red, and puffy, her thin lips pulled back in a snarl. Smudges of blood covered the lower half of her face, particularly under her eyes, nose, and around her mouth, and her long, straight, blonde hair had streaks of blood from root to tip.
"Where is he?" She demanded, gripping the flintlock rifle in her bloody hands.
The light-brown garments that went under her armour, which she wore as her night clothes, were bloodied as well.
"He can't have gone far - his blood hasn't dried yet." Janissary focused on Nalarion.
It was well known that Janissary had a couple of relationships, at least, in the group. She and her lover had kept it on the down low, but it was pointless keeping her current passion a secret. Having that which she worked hard for taken away from her, especially when she was just getting to the good part, was unacceptable.
"Which way did he go? Did anyone see? I swear to God I'm giving him the slowest, most painful death any one person can experience."
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Post by Shyl on Feb 24, 2009 1:11:28 GMT -5
(mmm didnt clarify swords n sorcery lol, not a gun fan)
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Post by Black Cherry Cola on Feb 24, 2009 1:15:21 GMT -5
((Sorry. Kind of big on booms . . . and you said 'keep it vague,' so I assumed guns were good to go.))
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Post by Shyl on Feb 25, 2009 16:48:28 GMT -5
(meh well continue as if it was a flintlock rifle or something, i dont mind one of them)
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Post by Black Cherry Cola on Feb 25, 2009 17:32:30 GMT -5
((Modi-idid-fied. But there isn't a whole lot to continue off of. Nice compromise, btw.))
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Post by Shyl on Feb 26, 2009 1:01:44 GMT -5
( man if more people joined this one it would be so much fun)
Nalarion looked up at Janissary, understanding the anger she used to hide her true emotions. He had never lost a lover and hoped he never would, his wife and children remained out of harms way, with his people in his birthplace. He smiled a bit, distracted from the bloody scene around them with thoughts of Silea. Snapping out of the thought, he remembered his current predicament, he took a moment and thought about why he would have done it. Maybe it was money, or promises of women, or of a place by a throne with the king of some damn palace, perhaps even a higher rank in another band of mercenaries. Nalarion called everyone together. " Men... and women, this betrayal has cost us dearly, one of our brothers has broken his oath to us, the only judgement i pass on him is one of a curse, I will take up my sword and hunt him down to any damn place he dares hide. I will give him a slow and painful death, no one will have ever felt the pain this man will endure." he announced "Are there any among you who will follow and assist me in this task"
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Post by Black Cherry Cola on Feb 27, 2009 0:20:05 GMT -5
"Curse? Task?" Janissary spat, standing a little outside the group. "He deserves more than a curse, and he's not a task." Her lips pulled back into a disgusted snarl. "He deserves a wretched, painful life. No, death is too good for him."
She tossed her hair back, raising her chin and stepping forward.
"But I will go with you, Nalarion, you have my word."
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Post by Shyl on Feb 27, 2009 0:32:58 GMT -5
He acknowledged Janissary and then scanned the few more around him, two others accepted his call, Marlis, a enchanter by trade, he had saved her life a year earlier from a few thugs on the street in Cael and gained a valuable ally, and Delan, a beastcaller, He choose to help the band after witnessing the saving of Marlis, whom he held dearly, he befriended animals easily, his only animal that he has kept a long term friendship with is his wolf, Rhakna. He smiled a bit at the three others that had joined him, this would be interesting. Two lovers, a very angry vengeful woman, and an elf, something told him nothing would be simple. "Okay gather what you can we will meet back here in a few minutes at this exact spot and set out for the merchant town of Kant to pickup whatever else we will need." and without another word Nalarion went back to the remains of his tent and picked up what little of his belongings had been left clear of destruction.
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Itsaki
Administrator
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There is a time and a place for everything, my love, and let no one tell you different.
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Post by Itsaki on Feb 27, 2009 9:39:43 GMT -5
Axel's head hurt, the sort of dull throbbing pain that didn't make you keel over crying, but that hurt like hell and made you just want to sit and stay. But, he had to move. His body was saying "Let me lay here, just another minute," but his mind said "Get up! You're going to die if you don't get up!" And so reluctantly, Axel's body moved into action. First, his eyes shot open, but, blinded by the sun, closed instantly. He groaned in pain, then was able to flop over onto his stomach. He opened his eyes, staring down at the ground. Then he pushed himself up onto his knees, then he stood warily. His head still hurt, a deep pain, but a bit of water would help that. He chcked himself. He had no broken bones, all of his armor was gone. He panicked, but he realized that he was never wearing armor. He had run from his tent in a hurry, grabbing only his sword and his pistol. He ran, fighting who he could, but he remembered a sharp, cracking pain, then the ground. He picked up his sword, placing it in his scabbard on his back. Then he found his pistol lying discarded , he picked it up also, replacing it where it fell from the holster at his back. He looked around at their camp. It was in ruins, wrecked and destroyed. He trudged to where his tent was. He pulled off the canvas cover, revealing his mat and his stuff. He threw the canvas aside. He put all of his armor into a pack, all black and polished and oiled. He put his clothes into the pack, and in a seperate pocket he placed the rest of his food. He unstrapped the scabbard from his back, hooking it sideways across his pack. His bow was always strung, now it was in his quiver, the black arrows were dark against the brown leather. Axel was a ranger, born and raised in the lands of the north. When he was fourteen, his town was overrun by a band of trolls, so he was forced to flee south. His parents were killed. He made his way to a city, he didn't know the name, where he made money as an entertainer. That was until a knight saw him with a bow. He was out in the forest, he had carved a small circle into a tree with his knife. He then went back a hundred and fifty meters, shot twice, and went to retrieve his arrows. He was aware of a person nearby, but he was unaware that the person was Sir Michael. The two arrows struck the same point, one had split the wood of the other. He had shot them both in only a second. So he was drafted into the army, as head of the archers. Until Sir Michael saw his skill with a blade. After knocking three veterans unconcious with the flat of his blade in six moves, Sir Michael asked how he had become so skilled. "It was how I was raised." Was his answer. So now he put that same bow on his back and the same sword on his pack. He noticed a group, and he walked over. "Is this the kill the traitorous ass group, or is that in another tent?" Axel asked, not knowing how correct he was.
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Post by Black Cherry Cola on Feb 27, 2009 13:08:17 GMT -5
Janissary briefly glanced at Axel, the glance more of an angry glare than anything.
"It is," she said bluntly as she moved on to her tent.
She flung the flap aside, throwing her rifle on the cot before moving over to the small pot of water she always kept in her tent when possible. Using a cloth she cleaned herself off, wiping the blood from her skin and cleaning what she could from her hair. Trying not to focus on her loss, she methodically changed out of her soiled underarmour and into a clean set, as well as her armour. Pulling out her burlap, she threw in a spare bedroll and blanket, as well as extra bullets and flint, and a change of underarmour. Janissary elected to leave her bloodied clothes there, in a tent she wasn't interested in keeping with her. In fact, she only took the absolute bare minimum; a bowl, a mug, and a dagger, as well as the aforementioned. Packed and rational, she took up her rifle and let herself take in the situation.
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Post by Shyl on Feb 27, 2009 14:14:33 GMT -5
Nalarion picked up the basics, a flint and tinder box, a wooden bowl, his throwing knives, and a bedroll. He looked around and found his old bow, made from a horn from a creature thought extinct, a dragon, perhaps the best kept secret of the elves is they still had a few dragons in a breeding pen. The bow itself was small in comparison to its larger and ungainly longbow cousin but the strength behind this bow was apparant. He opened his chest and grabbed his photo of his wife and a blanket she had woven for him. He turned to leave and caught a sparkle, he turned around and noticed the necklace his wife had given him to keep him safe, a pendent of silver, shaped as an orchid leaf with a small gem in the center. He slipped it round his neck and surveyed the tent a last time. As a last thought he ran back and grabbed his bracelets, made by the northern elves, it supposedly made you faster, he always clipped them to his ankles, made his feet move faster, nearly as fast as his hands. After tossing them onto his ankles he changed his bloody shirt and pants and put on something cleaner, and he tossed his hat on. A final look and he walked out to the center camp, his pack light his sword sharp and his mind ready for anything that lay ahead. Marlis and Delan stood impatiantly waiting at the top of the hill. "what took you so long" Delan said to him gruffly. "simply preparing for a journey." Nalarion said with a bit of a smile, not much of course, but how wide can your smile be after losing so many friends.
(just to make it clear Delan and Marlis are toyable, you can move them as you see fit but try to keep them in the characters Delan is gruff and reluctant, slow to befriend Marlis is his opposite polite and friendly, easy to befriend ok lets continue)
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Itsaki
Administrator
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There is a time and a place for everything, my love, and let no one tell you different.
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Post by Itsaki on Mar 2, 2009 14:13:55 GMT -5
Axel frowned at Janissary's angry glare. "So where's our first stop? I'm sure I can get a track of some sort if we head the right direction." Axel asked to no one in particular. He checked to make sure he had his gunpowder and his thirteen charms on the gold chain with 39 links. 13 was a very lucky number where he came from. Axel raised his hood, blocking the sun from his eyes. His head still hurt, but now the throbbing was going away, becoming a sharp stabbing pain. "Hey, your name's Nalarion, right? So d'you know who it was?" Axel asked.
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Post by Shyl on Mar 2, 2009 14:45:37 GMT -5
"His name... i took him in as a young man, he was abandoned on the road, maybe 16 years old, i could see the greed he had in his eye, i thought hed grow out of it, thought hed become a better man." He paused, his memories taking him "His name is Shaka, named him myself, when we found him, he didnt remember anything, he couldnt remember his name, if he had a family, or even why he was there, Never thought for an instant that he would turn on me." He said, tears rimming his eyes. He quickly hid them with his dagger. "I never thought id have to hunt that which i thought as my own son, but here i am now, going out to kill that which i raised."
He stood and composed himself, quickly masking his emotions with anger towards the misdeeds his so called son had commited.
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Post by Black Cherry Cola on Mar 2, 2009 23:19:31 GMT -5
"Kill?" Janissary repeated, slinging her sack over her shoulder as she entered the group, her lips pulled back in a disgusted snarl. "Shaka doesn't deserve death. I'm sorry, Nalarion, but I intend to give him lifelong pain. No - I'm not sorry. He deserves the pain he's dealt us, a hundred-thousands fold."
She tossed her hair back, her anger restored. As she spoke, she briefly glanced at Axel, but she was clearly addressing Nalarion.
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