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Post by Sorrows on May 27, 2007 19:38:11 GMT -8
The world stands broken. The Four Great Nations stand divided and at war. The western grassy highlands of Nightweld, the northern frozen tundra of Gerauld, the vast southern wastelands of Vus, and the rich and lush eastern lowlands of Damascus all lay in the wake of a full-scale war, spanning the entire length of the continent.
The fault lay in the lure of Cuendillar, or, more specifically, the power that they held.
It all began when the ancient ruins of a lost civilazation was excavated in the depths of the Gerauldite territory. Each country held it's own ruins, the remnant great cities of the previous world. A world that was said to have been inhabited, not only by humans, but by the spirits themselves. Each city held it's own affinity, and in turn had it's own guardian spiritual force. The spirit of numbing cold dwelled the frozen north, the spirit of biting wind to the hill-topped west, the spirit of burning fire to the deserts of the south, and the spirit of everlasting earth lay in the lush east.
Remnants of this legend can still be found in the living remains of the ancient civilization that lay in each of the new world's countries. These were the Temples. The Temple of Fire in the South, the Temple of Wind in the West, and so forth. These surviving buildings have been home to generations of Priests who still hold true to the ancient teachings.
Each temple is home to the world's strength of literature, housing every known text that survived the breaking of the old world. It was in these texts that was found a referance to the power of the spirits, and how to harness them inside living objects. These objects became known as 'Cuendillar' and became the world's most powerful weapons.
Swords that could harness the power of fire, spears that could swing with the power of the wind, shields that stood with the power of the earth itself. Each nation amassed its power in these objects, equipping their armies with the power of the world itself.
No one yet knows why the war broke out, besides the tension created by the power itself, but in the small town of Aus, which lay as the crossroads of all of the great nations, it didn't matter why. All that mattered was that this small stretch of land yet lay uneffected by the oncoming war.
It lay inside what was named a 'Jagt', an area of land where the natural power of the world itself leaked through, and negated all other sources. In these places was the only place where Cuendillar held no power. It was here that those who allied themselves with the world, and not the nations, gathered themselves. It was here, where their story began.
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Fayt was an unlikely ally to the world. A mercenary by name, a man whose price could always be counted in gold by trade. A statuesque man of 5'11". Long blonde hair framed his youthful face, pushed to either side and parted down his ears. A black headband wrapped about his forehead offset very ice blue eyes. He wore a thin black turtleneck covered by a tan cured leather vest and silver bracers on each arm, running up to his elbows. He had loose fitting black wool leggings tucked into large tan leather boots.
At this moment, he occupied a seat in the town's only tavern. A small, motly kind of place, where anyone who sat down had more weapons than money, or less sense than sobriety. He sat at a chair near the hearth, a large roaring fire fllickered from out of a stone framing. He leaned towards the flames, his eyes shining amidst the fire. His eyes silently scanned the room, though none of it was in his thought. He was lost in his own mind at the moment, his gaze only practicing a learned caution that was instilled in this world's age. Irritation flashed across his young features, as his hissed behind his hand held thoughtfully to his mouth.
What am I bloody well waiting for, anyways?! What kind of detail is 'you'll know it when you see it?!' This job bloody well better be worth it..
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Post by Zeffa! on May 27, 2007 20:12:45 GMT -8
A man of grand proportions sat on a chair that seemed dwarfed by his own size. Not overweight, but simply large, this barrelchested ogre of a man wore mostly furred clothing. His hair was coarse and dark, dark brown waves over thickened and tanned skin. His weapons were not hidden or tucked away in some subtle location, his heavy maul was slung over his back, and a handaxe at his hip. He was the type who wanted you to know he was armed, and not to be disturbed. He wasn't a very handsome figure, but neither was he ugly. Simply average, gruff, with a relativly thick beard encompassing his face. In his brawny and calloused hand was a mug of something that smelled terrible, and was murky and opaque as oil. He looked up at the door now and then, as if waiting for something, or someone.
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Post by Raiku on May 27, 2007 20:51:23 GMT -8
Matthis felt a little out of place here. This was not like his home, not at all. Where he was from there was a little bit of serenity, but in this Tavern, it appeared as if it was only the crude, gruff people who affiliated themselves. Matthis was certainly not as large as the other men, in fact, perhaps even smaller than the bartender himself. He was a slim figure, wearing a dark blue pair of linen pants tucked neatly into his black mariner boots. His torso also dawned a blue long sleeve shirt, but it was covered by a dark tunic, held tight by a black sash. Across his shoulder rested a bag of unknown items, though the rattling suggested that it was full of pans and silverware. A belt across his chest kept the crossbow firmly in place, and the quiver full of arrows seemed never to sway out of postion.
He continued reading over the slip of paper he had found, looking for a decent purpose as to why it told him to come here of all places.
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Post by Sorrows on May 27, 2007 21:13:19 GMT -8
][ It might take a while for whoever else to get in, since the threads aren't occupied every day, so I'll start some interaction. Good chance to work in some character development. ][
Fayt held the haft of his large spear in one hand, absently tapping his shoulder as he waited impatiently. The thing was as tall as he would be standing up, with the blade spanning atleast a third of the whole length. The shaft was black, with gold lettering engraved winding up the wood. The blade was deep silver, with black engraved figures that depicting several renditions of the elemental wind.
Increasingly irritated, Fayt looked about for something interesting to occupy his time while he waited for.. Whatever it was he was here for. He looked about, noting several things worth being aware of. There was a large man who, by his garb and demeanor, was from the north and was also simply bidding time. There was also a smaller lad, who seemed out of place for a rough, lawless place like this one. The large one presented an opportunity of one form of entertainment, al-be-it a dangerous and risky one. The lad provided a second, surer one.
He stood, throwing his spear over his shoulder into it's holster in an obviously practiced and deliberate manner. Adorning an unhurried and cadenced stride, he made his way over to the lad and stood next to him nonchalantly, leaning in slightly to talk to him.
"Running away from home are we? Won't find much place for 'paradise' around here, lad." Truth be told, Fayt only looked in his early adulthood himself, with a face that would be that of a handsome young man, if not for the piercing ice blue eyes that had seen far too much to be youthful.
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Post by Dark Beauty on May 28, 2007 9:43:05 GMT -8
Adeline looked up from her place on the floor when words had penetrated the used-to-be silence. Her silver eyes shone in the firelight along with her matching hair. Her garb was not that of a regular human's; it was a very light blue dress, made of a silk-like material. However, it was not silk. In fact, most people would not have been able to name it. The garment spilled about her muscular frame, which was currently laying on the floor on its stomach, the hemline stopping at the start of the lacings to her ballet-like slippers, which were a deep blue, along with a sash about her waist. Her skin was extremely dark, making her an extremely odd creature to look at, yet beautiful in her own way. She was currently kicking her legs up, as she had been bored waiting around in the silence, and she raised her head, staring at the two youthful men as they began to speak. She wanted to get all of the information she could from them before opening her own mouth.
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Post by Zeffa! on May 28, 2007 12:55:04 GMT -8
The barbaric looking man paid little attention to the others in the room for the moment. He had little desire to eavesdrop, and he was relativly certain that no one here in the room was the contact he was looking for. his drink slowly vanished, yet the bear of a man seemed not to be fazed by it at all, not that he gave much leeway to see any signs. He seemed very good at being patient, quiet, and still, even for a man of his girth. "It's late..." he remarked to himself as he placed the stein upon the floor.
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Post by Thistle on May 30, 2007 4:44:14 GMT -8
Two blue eyes pierced through the darkness of an underlit corner. They observed what was happening and noted those who she deemed worthy of note and waited. She had heard about a job and so she had showed up. Hopefully it paid well. If it didn't, well she'd...bargain.
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Post by Dark Beauty on Jun 4, 2007 21:57:52 GMT -8
Adeline looked about the room with her spooky silver eyes, trying to assess who or what was going to be gathered here, and trying to read them for their motives. She noticed another woman in the room. Good. At least she was not the only female.
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Post by Sorrows on Jun 5, 2007 12:01:00 GMT -8
][ Alright, for good measure, going to assume that Raiku's char ignored mine and went to a seat. ][
Fayt smirked as the boy paid his words no heed. Well, yes, he was looking to poke fun at the boy and whatever predicament had brought him to a place he was still years too young for, but that gave him no reason to simply ignore him.
He turned away, more irritated than before. That is to say, very, very irritated. He didn't like waiting, not for anyone or anything, but this job intrigued him. He couldn't even recall how he'd come by the information, just that it was too convenient to not be meant specifically for himself. And anyone who knew enough of him to seek him out specifically and not trying to kill him, was worth seeing.
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Suddenly, a man burst through the door, sending the wood ajar against the wall with a splintering sound. He stumbled forward, limping to one side and strongly gripping one side with a bloodied hand. His once fine robes were torn to shreds and face that might have once been an aging man was now that of a ruined soul caught by misfortune and one too many fists and blades. He tumbled forward after a few steps, thudding face down against the floorboards with no small sound. Blood still leaked from him in several places, and his breathing was forced and ragged.
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Fayt turned quizzically as the figure entered the small tavern. It took him only a moment to recognize a dying man who had lost his luck in the Jagt, but that wasn't what made him move to the figure when it fell. The other thing he recognized was an emblem that still hung from one shoulder of his tattered clothing. It was the emblem of the Temple of Wind. Only a few people could recognize it, and fewer knew what it meant this far East.
Fayt laid his spear off to one side and knelt next to the dying Priest, carefully turning the fatally wounded holyman on his back. What he saw this time took him aback. He knew this Priest. Worse yet, he could hardly recognize him. The world had not been kind to his old friend. Fayt carefully looked around to see if anyone else had gathered. Some things that he had been about to say weren't meant for idle ears.
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Post by Thistle on Jun 5, 2007 13:34:20 GMT -8
Perin calmly walked up to the dying man. She was curious as to who he was. The man now kneeling beside him seemed to recognise the symbol and even the man. She smiled coldly as she closed in on them.
"Well," she said casually looking the bloodied man over. "That seems to be painful. Would you like me to ease your passing? I might even let you send off a prayer to your god...but then again I just might not be feeling generous. What do you say? Are you willing to take the chance?"
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Post by Dark Beauty on Jun 5, 2007 15:38:18 GMT -8
Adeline's attention averted to the dying priest, but she did not move. Her silver eyes stayed fixed on the situation, taking in every detail and every word.
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Post by Sorrows on Jun 5, 2007 18:41:50 GMT -8
Fayt turned a cold eye to the even colder woman who approached. "Your help is not needed nor welcome, Shadowrunner. Leave us be." He unconsciously let the insult slip, but paid it no more heed than the woman herself as he turned back to his friend.
Fayt leaned in close, putting his back to the woman and the room, shielding the voices that exchanged between himself and his dying friend. The dying man's voice was ragged, spoken with the last breaths before death. Too wounded to keep his voice low, a few words escaped the silence. "Temple... Malcevra... must not... destroy... forgive... Tai'shar.." A shaking hand closed Fayt's fist over something and the breath stopped all together.
Fayt shook the lifeless corpse, demanding more. "You old fool! You didn't tell me enough! Where are they?! Where?!!" An enraged growl escaped his throat as his fist splintered the wood slightly where he struck the floorboards. His gloved fist still clenched and quivering, he slowly gained his feet, rounding on the few who remained yet in the room.
"OUT!! GET OUT!! THIS ISN'T A BLOODY SHOW!!" Suddenly his other hand held the haft of his large spear, the glistening metal quivering slightly in his grip. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, repressing the sudden surge of anger that had cleared most of the room. When he looked up again, only a few remained.
He glanced down as he opened his hand for the first time, a cold stoic face adorned once again. He quickly slipped the object into his pouch and shielded his voice from emotion.
"This will not be an adventure, this will not be a quest. This is a job of Death. Dance with the Dark One, either we succeed and recieve all you could wish for or only the mortician profits from our efforts. Those who fear death, have regrets they can't leave behind, or do not possess the will to fight, leave now. Those of you who remain and wish to join this job, stay."
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Post by Zeffa! on Jun 5, 2007 21:13:04 GMT -8
"Hold on now," said the bear of a main, raising himself up from his seat. He hadn't reacted much from the dead man's entrance because of the surprise. He wanted to see what happened. But now he was curious. "That's the man who was supposed to meet..? Who are you?" asked the bearded hulk, not drawing his weapon, but pointing a thick and wide calloused hand toward the spear-wielder.
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Post by Sorrows on Jun 5, 2007 21:40:54 GMT -8
Fayt regarded the large man without any sign of being intimidated by his immense size. His gaze never thawed, neither did his voice.
"I'm the only one left who knows the job, and that makes me your new employer, now doesn't it? Got a problem with that, Gerauldite?" The slighting offhandish term for the large, heavy-set northlanders came with a slight sting that had been born with the war between the West and the North.
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Post by Dark Beauty on Jun 6, 2007 6:29:42 GMT -8
The drowish woman's eyes remained locked on the goings-on, trying analyze the "leader" of this "not-a-quest." He was rough, he did not like showing emotion, and he had control issues. A smile crept across Adeline's tight lips. This would play out interestingly enough.
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