The Story A note from Arakane’s chief of council, Della Lore There is a strange force in this land, something that can fix the broken things, the strange creatures we have come to know as Relics. They rise from the earth in great numbers. I beg of you keep your families locked away behind the walls of our fair city Lorn, because they come in great numbers like locusts out to devour a field. No village has been able to outstand their march. Once friends we held an artefact of this old world thinking it a mere trinket small it elongated out wards. A small silver box with a black void at it’s centre. Our Prince, Tiram would sit with it and marvel over it. One day whilst passing by the treasury it was kept in, I saw a bright light. The object came to life in his hands upon it a map more intricate then any I had ever seen before. Word spread within the palace and soon the object was called the box of the world. Scholars came from as far as the human domains. The maps were more intricate then anything we had ever seen before and though the scholars studied it intensely none could find an answer to its life. Then one night it vanished along with the high lords son and favourite companion. That’s when the killing began Day’s since then, Should I remind you the state of its land, with its crippled people and dwindling soils that can barely grow a crop to support a family let alone a community. A threat such as this will surely destroy us and our own army has not returned from its campaign against these things. Days past, long before now some of your nations we considered enemy, however we can hold no such grudge now, time does not permit it. I’m calling to any with a backbone and skills to spare, who dares to help us, return to us his graces property for we are led to believe that this trinket has been all along the cause of our problems. If you do not we may not be the only ones who suffer. This madness must be stopped. The Game, you will group at the City of Lorn the Drakan’s main city. The campaign may seem simple however as the story progresses it will change a little. You come together to try and retrieve the box of the world and bring it back to the city with the companion and the high lords son. You will be rewarded for the return of this item. The group needs to consist of more then just warriors and is as much about character building and interaction as it is about anything else. Besides the group can work without healers or medics cooks and even priests. Playable races The Drakan, https://www.writingforums.org/blog.php?b=1109 The Heckling https://www.writingforums.org/blog.php?b=1465 The Humans https://www.writingforums.org/blog.php?b=1466 Relic Dolls https://www.writingforums.org/blog.php?b=1467 Magic Please keep in mind certain races can only use certain magic if they want to live in that country. You may only have one form of magic and two high powered spells and three lesser spells. Tortai magic: all forms of magic are illegal here The Heckling: you can choose from any form of magic for this country; Soul based, Necromancy, rune, The humans: all magic bar necromancy The Draycon: all magic bar necromancy Relic dolls: rune based only Your character sheet: Name: Age: Sex: Weapons: (two at the max) Armour (As you choose not restricted to race or country but please give a colourful explanation to why they aren‘t wearing what they should be.) Magic: (you need to make sure you point out which runes you have if you have runes. This isn‘t a Relic doll requirement as your runes are inside you. One major spell two minor spells. Please remember your pros and cons) Description: Personality:
Name: Aviana Fae Age: 18 Sex: female Race: Drakan Weapons: Well crafted by her father, her sword skinny and long. Made pure of gold, it has two light blue swirls on either side, that run from the front end to the other. Not a woman's sword at all, but Avania was never quite mannered. When stabbed with the sword a medium sized dose of sleeping liquid is injected in you. The rune in this sword could put anyone to sleep within minutes, when hit enough. Armour-Flowing down to her knees, the robe is made of fine fabirc's. It's light blue color is the backdrop to huge designs of patterns ranging in the colors of black to yellow. In the range of light and heavy, this robe is meant for light sunny weather, or cool evenings. Her knee high black boots, give her a slight edge. Not many in her community wear such dark colors, but it makes her feel unique. Under her robes, is a gold platted cheast peice, with a huge light blue ruby in the middle, marking the stone of her family. Her arms are usually covered with short black gloves, that have the same design as the coat, in light blue lining. Magic: Her first spell in the power to stun people, for about a minute. It gives her the chance to fight back, but it weaken her to the point, she only fights back withing 45 seconds, giving her 15 seconds to hit. Her second spell is the spell to heal. From her touch, a dying man can come back to life, healthy. The down side is that she can quite control how much healing powers she can use. She can only heal a person once, and only once. There third spell is the spell to summon fire into her hands. (I have to have a little memory of the continent) It weaken her, but she can torch anyone near her if wanted. Description: With firery red hair() and tawny eyes, this girl can sure stand out in a crowd. Only standing at about 5"7 she is short for a Draycon. Being the athletic girl she is, she is slim. Her round face, gives her beauty and grace. Poking out above her ears are tiny little horns that have not quite grown in yet. On her back she had a pair of huge white and gold wings. Each feather has a gold linning to them. Not quite as big as her, her wings still are huge compared to most. Her tiny gold hooves, are her shoes. Personality:Hot tempered little Aviana never quite got along with most. Only few ever got to her enough to become her best friend. Slowly, she is letting more people in to be friends. Her father was a gifted sword maker that made the finest of the lands. He made her, her own collection of rune filled swords, that are meant for death. When her walls are down, Aviana is a funny, sweet person who can get along with most people. But whe she puts up barriers between her and other people, she is deadly.
Name: Tristan Asher Age: 24 Sex: Male Weapons: None Armour: None Magic: 1. Heal- Can heal any wound as long as it doesn't include any complex arterial/ nervous damage. (like the brain heart or spine.) This power drains him physically and mentally. He cannot use this ability on himself except for superficial wounds. 2. Detox- Cures any poison or sickness in anyone as long as it hasn't reached advanced stages. He himself is immune to all sickness, but is just as vulnerable to poison as everyone else and will die if he doesn't catch it in time. 3. Flash-Can produce a small ball of white light that he often uses to blind in evasive situations or as a light in the darkness. The light emitted from the ball has certain, calming pain-relieving properties, which Tristan sometimes uses as an anesthetic. Description: 6 foot tall, 180lb, attractive features. Dirty blonde shoulder length hair, olive complexion, broad, dimpled smile. Hazel eyes flecked with highlights. Broad shouldered due to his obsession with archery in medical school. (quite the shot by the way. too bad he hates violence.) White longsleeved shirt, brown tunic on top, brown pants and brown boots. Personality:Hates violence and always tries to find a way around it. Always tries to stay cheery and optimistic concerning the fate of the world, but deep down he expects the worst. Always tries to take on the problems of others and will go out of his way to help those in need. Developed a bad habit of cursing from his father who was an abusive alcoholic soldier.
Name: Chaos Seraphim Age: ??? Sex: Male Race: Relic Doll Weapons: A long Platinium lance Armour: Platinium platemail. Convers his shoulders, chest, back and hanges over both sides of his hips. Same type of armor covers his legs and feet. Magic: Spell I - Fire bending - can create and control fire Spell II - Enhanced vision - his eyes are capable of x-ray vision and can zoom in Spell III - Super Speed Description: Has a very slim body. His face is more beautiful than most women's and has long beautiful white hair. Stands at 6 feet tall. Has six large wings coming out of his back. On the left side their colors are top on is white, middle one black and the bottom one is white. On the right side, the top one is black, the middle one white and the bottom one black. His eyes are crimson red, with a slit cat-like pupil. Due to his slim body, long gorgous hair and beautiful face, most people awesome that he's a girl at first. Personality: Is very confident, vain about his appearance, pretty polite to people, very honest. The rest I'll come up with as we play.
Name: Raskia Age: unknown Sex: female Race Relic doll Weapons: One medium sized double sided axe. Silver a engraved with a vast intricate vine pattern it has a generous sized sapphire on it’s hilt. Also a short sword plan it’s hilt wrapped in yellow and white cloth. Both weapons are one handed and can be wielded at the same time. Armour Her armour is light, a fine silver coloured breast plate is worn over a white long sleaved tunic embroidered with golden lilies. Her mantle is plate and tight against her shoulders and also is silver in colour. She wears a blue tabard beneath the chest armour also which has the crest of Drakan on it {a raised fist in white.} A brown belt studded with sapphires and silver studs is slump loosely to her waist. Her skirt is also white with the lily embroidery upon it and is split to thigh height to allow fluid movements. Her gloves are leather with light silver plates on the knuckles and over the wrists. Magic: Being a relic doll Raskia’s Runes are within her, her first spell “condemn” creates a feeling of neurosis leading towards insanity with prolonged use. How ever extended use can often effect Raskia’s memory and confuse her thoughts. Raskia’s second spell is called flint and creates seemingly useless sparks. Description: Like most of the older relic dolls Raskia hair is snow white and her eyes a very faded blue colour. She stands 5,8 and was modelled to look simular to a Heckling. Her body is slender and arms well toned. Raskia’s skin is whitish pink. Personality: Raskia, is barely capable of showing emotion being an early Relic doll, Raskia is also human with Relic doll parts, she does recognise pain. While she can recognise sad from happy and pleased from angry in others she rarely shows emotions her self besides occasional confusion. Raskia is resilient and accretive to the needs of others. Name: Rhue Age: 28 Sex: Male Weapons: Large two handed sword, that can un latch to form to swords for duel wielding. Armour Rhue wears a chest plate beneath his attire. He wears burgundy robes delicately trimmed with silver crewel and leaf. His arm and shoulder armour consists of a light bronze mantle with a lions head (the humans decal) and chain mail to help his against heavy blows Magic: Main spell decay, capable of spewing disease upon others. Rhue rarely uses this ability as necromancy is outlawed in his country. Also he cannot control where the disease goes. Description: Rhue has long raven black hair which he wears drawn back in a simple tie. His eyes are amethyst in colour. His face is chiselled. Rhue’s horns are well developed and rest outwards upon his head. Rhue’s wings are badly deformed. One is a small skin covered steam the other is small and buckled. The wing is dull grey colour. Personality: Rhue is the lord Arakane’s dishonoured brother who was accepted as a noble man among the humans. The prince is a master of arms and is calm and often seems more gentleman then fighter. Though he is controlled and thoughtful. Rhue is over seeing efforts for the human nations behalf Several more characters will be added to this by tomorrow
Name: Adam 47 Age: 19 Race: Human Sex: Male Weapons: Sword and crossbow. Armor: Light leather armor, tannish clothes and a green cloak. Magic: TBA Description: Tall, with dark skin and long black hair tied in a tail. Green almond-shaped eyes and very white teeth. Muscled, but not too bulky. Was a slave named 47 who escaped and changed his name to Adam. Personality: Quiet, pretty much wary of other humans. He doesn't want to be a slave, and wants to do things his own way.
Name: Dlieza (pronounced D'Leeza) Age: 23 Race: Human Sex: Female Weapons: Short staff, hoof knife. (What? It's always in her pocket anyway. She would also not be above hitting someone with whatever is to hand, either, such as a bridle with a metal bit.) Armour: Never occurred to her to wear any. She's an ostler and former circus person, not a warrior. Magic: Doesn't trust magic. Description: Short dark curls always tousled or windblown around her heart-shaped face, big dark brown eyes, bright red lips, strong white teeth, tans easily, a few freckles. Stands about 5'3" and is well-muscled from years of riding and training horses. Hands are well-shaped but uncared for (not a girl for manicures). Generally wears well-fitting dark-colored work pants and an off-white blouse. Green thigh-length cloak with a hood, utilitarian boots. Personality: Having been orphaned as a baby and grown up caring for horses in a traveling circus troupe, Dlieza's cheerfully rootless, taking each day as it comes. Has a natural rapport with all kinds of animals but especially horses. Tends to be a bit of a dreamer, drifting off into her own thoughts when nothing much is happening. She has not the benefit of much schooling but is shrewd. She can speak well enough but sometimes slides into a broad accent (which will probably be a mixture of all sorts of things and sound awful)
Name: Alastor Een Age: 29 Sex: Male (Human) Weapons: Two Kamas Armour: Full chainmail Magic: Spell I: (Flicker) Instantly teleports himself from one spot to anther within 5 yards. Only useable if destination can be seen, Spell 2: (Call Kamas) Can teleport his Kamas to him at any time. Description: 5’11, short dark hair which he cuts himself (it’s a mess, really), dark eyes. Always wears the same dark blue robe, has worn his current one for three years now, and any tailor (or actually, any sensible being) would tell him it’s time to replace the robe. The left sleeve has seven pieces of red cloth sewn to it, one for each “worthy kill”. All in, he dresses like a beggar but walks and acts like a noble. Personality: Those who never met Alastor may have heard of him, or his actions. Called a brilliant head hunter by some, a sociopath by others, he has been in the “business” since he was 17. He became well known for the fact he will hunt down anyone or anything; whether his employer is a king, a pirate or a bandit, if they can pay him, they can hire him. It’s not that Alastor is rude or cruel. He simply doesn’t care. To him, everyone is a potential prey, and he acts to that believe; rather then making friends, he asses the combat abilities of those around him. The only pleasure he allows himself is an occasional drink, even though he can’t handle alcohol.
Not sure how much I get it, but I'll give it a shot! Name: Mordred Age: 20 Sex: male Species: Drakan Weapons: A silver-hilt'd sword in a beat-up silver scabbard. He doesn't know what the blade looks like 'cause it's stuck in there. Clothing: light green, knee-length dress with a pink ribbon around the waist and a simple, pink flower-pattern on the skirt and green leg-warmer-ish things covering his shins. His sleeves are long and wide and cover his hands when his arms are down. Mordred wears a string of pink beads around his left wrist and a pink flower hairpin just above his right ear. Magic: none, but his parents taught him how to make some nasty poisons. Description: 6' 0" and supermodel-thin. His silky, copper hair goes down to about his waist. He has wide, black eyes and a girlish face. His wings are small and covered in grey feathers that puff out when he's upset. His horns are short and thin and kept polished and clean. They're a light-grey kinda color, like his hooves. Needless to say, Mordred get mistaken for a woman a lot. Personality: Mordred always finds something to smile about, but he doesn't go out of his way to avoid conflict. If you let him, he gets chatty as hell. He likes swimming and climbing trees, and can be a little childish sometimes. Unlike most Draycon his age, Mordred knows he isn't an "adult" yet, so he tries not to take anything too seriously. He's not much of a leader, but that doesn't mean he's totally useless.
Name: Dareon Faust Age: 28 Sex: Male Weapons: Long wooden quarterstaff, engraved with an ancient script; and a knife. Armour: None Magic Major Spell Winter's Judgment: creates a multitude of tiny ice needles that can be propelled along a straight vector. Minor Spells Growth: allows for the nourishing and encouragement of plant growth (not all-encompassing; cannot grow a forest with a wave of his hand). Firerose: Creates a small ball of flame that can be thrown, held as a light source, or used to start a fire. Description: Dareon is 5’10” with mid-length black hair and gray-green eyes. He wears a tattered brown cloak, and underneath that he wears a simple tunic and pants. He keeps himself clean-shaven whenever possible. He is relatively plain-looking; not unhandsome, but not eye-catching either. Personality: Dareon is quiet, studious, and observant. He is a man of broad experience for his age, and carries with him a past and a wisdom that even many elderly wizards cannot boast. He is a voracious reader, always carrying books with him, and his love of it is equaled only by his love of writing. His next great love is music, followed in turn by the culinary arts. He will willingly cook if nobody else feels equal to the task. With people, Dareon is warm, friendly, and passive. He is first a listener, and always takes time to think about his responses. In stress situations he is calm and collected, sees what needs doing, and does it.
Stage One progressive Lorn nestled with its back against the face of the Falk-farren mountains. Marooned in a sea of old things. Had it not been for the ingenious design of the city with it’s inbuilt port and heavily fortified walls no doubt Lorn would have fallen as had many of the neighbouring villages and towns. Arakane’s turned away from the hatched windows he had been gazing through and looked upon his chief of Council Della, then to his relic Raskia. “How do the troops fare?” “The losses have been high my lord, I‘ve a rough estimate from the messenger we lost sixty troops since this dawn.” Della said wiping her brow. Arakane’s nodded his head, then rubbed his temple. In normal times that number was barely worth mention. However they weren’t fighting normal enemies and the losses had been high. If they continued on their would be no army left to protect them. Help was on the way he reassured himself. He could have laughed at himself sending one little group to do what his own army at current could not. “And the stores Raskia for the city?” “You‘re stores are low your grace. Counting current stock and the crops that are in successful growth at current your people with have enough to last then only five months.” Raskia’s blank faced retorted with eyes that seemed to stare right through him. The doll herself annoyed Arakane but she had proven herself of use more then once. “Well here’s to hoping then.” Arakane muttered. He walked towards Raskia giving her a small piece of paper. “Make sure the human delegate gets this when he arrives. All of our guests will arrive aboard ship. It isn‘t safe for land travel.” Raskia gave a graceful bow and Arakane forced himself to look away from her. The hideous thing reminded him of a ghost it was pale and far to perfect. Though it had been modelled as a pleasure doll Arakane loathed the thought of any man sick enough to bed her. He prayed though that she would return to him with the box of the world and his son. ******* Raskia moved down the hall and out of the palace. Collecting a white gelding from the stables. The horse was large and at least12years of age. Raskia felt most comfortable on the horse after all with age came maturity. She made her way down the cobble paths until the cobble turned to red dirt compacted by the citizens and traders that walked to an thro from the harbour to the markets. At the docks a ship was off loading clothes, it was rare to find any ship these days that carried foods upon it. A Drakan man approached her and she swung down from her horse. She would wait now for Lorn’s warriors to come.
Stage one Interactive At this point you will arrive on boat or come to the harbour from the part of Lorn you reside in or are staying in. The aim of the interactive series for this part of the RPG is to get to know each and for a little character building on your character. I will give time for this ad will consider extending time allocations on PM’d requests.
Chaos sat by himself on the edge of the deck thinking over his awakaning. Slowly his eyes opened and he opened the door of his coffin. Looking around, he saw a lot of ancient writing on the inside of his tomb, but only one word was legible, CHAOS. Taking that as his name to looked upon the outside of his coffen to see the image of the box that he later learned was linked to the other dolls going crazy. Shaking it off, he looked at the incoming port. Deciding not to wait, he stretched out his six wings and took off into the air. Quickly landing infront of a fellow Relic Doll and a Draconian. Folding his wings over his beautiful platinum armor, he nodded his head to the relic doll. "I take it that you are Raskia. I am Chaos Seraphim."
Alastor hated travelling by ship, then again, he didn’t really enjoy any types of travel. But by ship was the worst, especially considering the complete lack of alcohol that had been aboard. He shrugged. The worst part had been when the captain had not allowed him to bring his Kamas aboard. Apparently he didn’t want to risk having the great Alastor Een aboard his ship armed. Nearly, he had considered dropping out. But then again, he would be paid well for this job, very well, not to mention the fact that the nobility would owe him one. The momentary loss of his Kamas had been annoying, but the captain had been so kind to let him keep his runes. Alastor tilted his head, held out his left hand and used his right hand to activate one of the three runes attached to a thin metal chain. He watched as the Kamas materialized in his hands. They would hit land soon, and he didn’t want to enter draconian lands unarmed. He touched the red strips of cloth on his left sleeve. Three of them had been Drakan, a proof to the fact they were mighty warriors. Yet not as mighty as Alastor Een, he thought to himself. Something glistered in the sun, and he saw some platinum thing fly from their ship to the wharfs. The Relic Doll. He had only ever killed one, yet he was fascinated by them. What where they, what did they want. Where they the cause of the recent struggles? So many questions, none of which really mattered. All Alastor wanted was for this mission to be over soon.
Rhue watched as the Relic doll landed upon the wooden desk with a dull thud. He couldn’t help wondering about this doll in his time in Drakan though it had been a long while ago he’d studied many different dolls and doll parts. This was one of the most elaborate dolls he’d ever seen. If Raskia felt anything at all without a doubt she’d be jealous. Raskia knew Rhue well, she had been in the family since Rhue’s father had been a boy and he had grown up with her. In those days the awakening of a doll was rare and often had to be prompted by the hands of another. Often the Heckling were best for waking Relic dolls. I take it that you are Raskia. I am Chaos Seraphim." The male Relic said. Rhue watched as Raskia took her time to analyse him before responding. “Greetings Lord Seraphim,” she said simple. Her face holding its paralysis and showing no signs of welcome or joy. Raskia as far as most knew had never shown any type or form of emotion however there were secrets, but Rhue would keep them. “This is the human relations master, Lord Rhue.” Raskia introduced him. Rhue bowed to the man, “well met.” He gave a gentle smile.
Chaos nodded his head to Rhue. "Like wise," he replied with a small grin. Looking around at the city, "It's no wonder your city has survived the current onslaught of defective dolls."
Dlieza patted her charges, giving them soothing words and stroking their necks as they moved uneasily. The two chargers didn't like the motion of the ship and she didn't much blame them. "There now, Spook, there now, Tubby," she murmured absently to Wyndhoof's Pride II and Fatal Dawnfire son of Fatal Chaos Dawn out of the celebrated dam, Starfire. The two horses, huge in the cargo space, had longer pedigrees than most people did. Certainly longer than her truncated one. Just her, alone in the world from babyhood. Dlieza grabbed a curry comb and started on Spook's dapple silver coat, beginning to whistle absently and getting a wicker in reply. She wasn't about to leave these big babies to collapse in a case of nerves, they were almost to the harbor anyway.
Adam knelt behind the crate, chomping down on a piece of fruit. He had barely managed to take this one -- the guards had been alerted to his presence now, and kept a tighter watch on the goods on display. Peering over the side, Adam looked for anyone who seemed to be looking for him. Seeing none, he finishes his fruit and sat up, blending into the crowd. He allowed himself to be carried along with the crowd to the harbor, where a number of boats were arriving. Adam knew why. The massive onslaught of the Relic Dolls was almost completely destroying Lorn, and it needed as much help as it could get. That's why Adam came here. Well, actually, it's just why he decided to hide in Lorn. He had narrowly escaped his master two weeks past, and so far had not seen her or her men. He really didn't know why he had escaped. She treated him fairly, as befitted a slave. She was beautiful... But she treated him like a beloved pet, not the human being that he was. That's why he escaped, or so he told himself. "Hey! Thief! Get him!" Adam turned and saw three guards running towards him, swords in hand. "Damn," he muttered. He reached for his blade at his side and drew it. The people around him screamed and fled. He would have to fight them all. "So much for escape." "You've been stealing for a week now," said one of the guards, pointing his sword at Adam. "You're gonna have to pay for everything you stole!" At least they don't know I'm an escaped slave... "I don't want to fight you," said Adam cautiously. One of the guards spat. "Of course not, who does? But you should've thought about that!" The guards surged forward, swinging their blades. Adam took a step back and parried two of their attacks, then turned and struck one down. He pivoted and slammed his sword into another's head, sending blood and gore raining down. He grunted as he pulled the sword from the man's head. The last guard dropped his blade and ran away. Adam sheathed his blade and began to run. It was only a matter of time 'til more came.
Alstor twitched. City guard, no doubt, hunting down some street rat, no doubt. Perhaps there was money to be made. The boat reached the shore, and Alastor was the first to leave the ship. It felt good to have solid land under his feet again, even if the lands where not entirely familiar. He had been to Lorn before on several occasions, but there was something about the place he didn’t like. But the ale was good, and although he had no real money to spend right now, he expected that would change soon. It always did. Several guards rushed by, and Alastor was forced to take a step back to avoid being trampled. City guard… he hated them. One step up from highway man. Brawlers that wore the cities colours, no more. Then again, they had been in a hurry, and there had been four of them… He started walking in the direction the city guard had gone. “He killed Jimmy! I say we kill the bastard.” Alastor peeked around the corner. There stood about a dozen city guard, weapons drawn, surrounding a boy, also armed. Alastor snickered, which was unlike him. How often he had found himself in this situation. But he doubted this boy would manage to escape, unless he to could Flicker. Which again was doubtful; it was a closely guarded kind of magic, and Alastor saw no runes on the boy. One of the city guard, apparently losing his nerve, lashed at the boy, who parried the attack with relative ease. The boy showed promise to become quiet a swordsman. If he survived today off course. Alastor strode over to the small gathering of people. “What’s this?” One of the city guard glanced at him, then returned his attention to the boy. “Out of our way, citizen.” Alastor felt his eye twitch. He didn’t like being called a citizen. “The name is Alastor Een, I’ll be taking the boy.” Several of the guardsman laughed. “Alastor Een is a giant, not a small man as yourself.” “I heard he was a heckling sorcerer.” Alastor started to lose his patience and felt irritation rise. People always seemed to have trouble accepting he was Alastor, the bounty hunter who murdered a bandit village, and then murdered the son of his former employer because he had been hired to do so. They never simply accepted it was him and pissed of. “I’ll be taking the boy.” he repeated, walking up to the boy. One of the man made the mistake of grabbing his arm, a deed that could not go unpunished. Alastor twisted on his heels and drove his knee into the man’s crotch. “The next one who touched me dies. I am a guest in this city, hired by the ones who pay your wages. Now piss of.” Another man didn’t seem to take the message and took a swing at him. He dodged, grabbed the man’s arm and snapped both the man’s wrist and his elbow. As he fell to the ground, the others seemed to get the message. The group started to disperse, and Alastor turned to the boy. As the boy opened his mouth, no doubt to thank him, Alastor punched him in the neck, hitting those pressure points needed to nock someone out. As his body slumped, Alastor dropped his Kamas and grabbed the boy. He could regain the Kamas later, when his runes had cooled down enough. He started to drag the body of the boy towards the point where he was supposed to meet a man named Rhue. The name rang some bells, but Alastor hadn’t bothered investigating. He reached the point they had agreed to meet and dropped the body of the boy, who started to wake up, in front of him. So far, it was just him, this Rhue fellow and two Relic Dolls. “Alastor Een. I found this kid. He worth anything?”
Adam groaned and groggily sat up. He was lying underneath two men - one was the man who punched him, and the other was a Draycon. "What the hell was that for?" snarled Adam as he leapt up. He reached for his sword, only to find it in the hands of the man. "Give it back!"
Rhue just about rolled his eyes as the boy was dropped in front of him, he turned to Raskia and she stared at him in return. “hardly, unless he is with us,” Raskia said squatting down to look at the boy. Rhue sighed unsure what to say himself. “Perhaps I should take these people to the Barracks whilst you wait for the others. I guess that way we can get the boy some help if he needs it.” Rhue stopped as the boy came to life. "What the hell was that for?" snarled Adam as he leapt up. He looked around his eyes wild, the spotted the sword in the other mans hands. "Give it back!" he shouted. Rhue stepped over to the boy who was struggling and took his arm up against his own back. “You‘re not going to cause a scene are you? Because the ship rides made me awful tired.”
Sorry for the late entry. Name: Joraan Kerrone (Prefers just Kerrone) Age: 41 Sex: Male Race: Human Weapons: A large, yet light sword. Armour: Completely covered in light metal plating, including a (Removable) faceplate and gloves. Magic: Major – Can cross large distances with one leap, can harness telekinesis to attack his enemies. Minor – Can heal slightly faster than most humans, increasing the amount of punishment he can take. Description: A mercenary who has achieved near-legendary stance among the inhabitants of Lorn, livng outside of its borders. Personality: Comes across to others as an extremely cold individual, but with a soft spot for sarcasm and a short temper. (I will develop this more later.)
Kerrone landed on the edge of the harbour with a large thud. He rested for a second, then rose. "Sorry I'm late," He growled, "Some trouble with a Heckling." He stopped, looking at the scene he had stumbled on. "Did I miss something fun?"
