Tebryn Arbandi GM: Abculatter_2 Assistant GM: Dustinthewind Long ago and in a land far, far away, there was a boy of natural born talent. The mages of the land quickly recognized this, and taught him the arts of magic. He soon excelled far beyond anyone before him, becoming arguably the most powerful mage to ever exist. However, he began to secretly delve into the darker sides of magic. After he was discovered and ordered to stop, he disappeared without any trace of where, how, or why. Eventually, he was remembered only on the lyrics of bards and the forgotten texts of ancient tomes. Now, hundreds of years afterward, the winds of change are blowing, a harbinger of the cataclysm about to begin... The Land: For more info on the world, read my blog The RPG takes place on the continent of Carlador, which is a huge continent about as tall as North and South America combined. The majority of the continent is taken up by a huge central desert, called the Central Desert, with two strips of habitable land on the northern-most and southern-most parts of the continent. In the RPG, there are 5 races, Dwarves, Humans, Scorpion-Clan, Elves, and Genies. Dwarves are the sole inhabitants of the northern habitable zone, and are the oldest and most advanced of the races. They can create amazing constructs of metal, clockwork, and steam, but have never discovered the secrets of magic, nor seen the miracles of the mighty gods. In the absence of other races, the dwarves have turned to themselves for conflict and war, always fighting among themselves for power and riches. They are completely isolated from and unknown to all races except the Scorpion-Clan, which almost never interact with them. Scorpion-Clan are nomads wondering the Central Desert in a struggle to survive. They rarely intervene on the affairs of other races. They are tribal and shamanistic, and the youngest of the races. They do not have skin, rather a hard, air-tight exo-skeleton which can withstand impressive amounts of punishment, along with a poisonous scorpion-like tail which is their name-sake. Humans inhabit the eastern part of the southern habitable zone, and are technologically around the same as us in the medieval ages. They are able to work magic, but few can endure the years of practice required for it. They are currently at war with the elves. Elves are much like the humans, but are more magically-inclined and prefer to live in forests. They live in the western part of the southern habitable zone, and are currently at war with the humans. Genies are a mysterious race comprised almost entirely of magic. They founded the Arcanium (A nation primarily of magic-users which inhabit the southern part of the southern habitable zone), are older then anything known in existence, and do not breed in any known form. They also can not die, but have been known to sometimes be imprisoned within objects. Rules: * No god-moding: no invincibility or abilities that allow you to accomplish monumental tasks with little or no effort. This is just plain no fun. * No controlling other players' characters: Unless you have permission to do so, don't make another players' character do anything, especially something major. * Read all posts: Read everything done by all players and the GM, so that you can obey the next two rules. * The GM's word is Law: Read every GM post VERY CAREFULLY, and do not contradict the GMs ruling. Also, if you make a post that has your character do something, and the GM didn't want it done, and he/she asks you to fix it, fix it. * Refrain from post-stomping: if someone said in a previous post that something happened, it happened. You can't override it with your own post. Sometimes, stomping on another post happens accidentally, when two people post at close to the same time. In this case, it is best to work out on the discussion thread whose version of the truth will be used, and who will edit their post to compensate. * Advance the plot: your posts should advance the plot of the story in a meaningful way. Your character should be doing something in every post you make. * Give other players time to react: Don't solve all the game's problems by yourself. Allow some time between posts for other players to have their own characters to add to the tale. * Make your posts a decent length: No one-liners, and no essays. Keep your word count within a good range: 40 to 300 words is fine. If you're at a loss for more to write, think about what your character is getting from all his/her senses, not just sight. Also, giving your character some interesting mannerisms can help add a bit to your posts. * Limit fighting amongst characters: Unless it is the point of the game in question, players should generally refrain from having their characters fight amongst themselves. If it is done, the two players should work out a result via PM, so that both players are satisfied with it. * NPCing inactive characters: if a player is away, his character can be temporarily made into an non-player-character, controlled by the GM. The GM may also allow the player characters to use the character in minor ways. * Be active and contribute: If you weren't planning on participating, you shouldn't have joined. Try to be active in the RPG as much as possible, and make sure to tell everyone when you'll be away for a while. * Stay in-character: Your character should stick to the nature you have given him or her unless he or she has a valid reason to do otherwise. Don't have the character be cruel and heartless one second, and then gentle and compassionate the next (unless schyzophrenia was part of your character concept. ). Note, however, that it is understood that your character is dynamic, and will probably change as the story unfolds. This is excellent, and is certainly encouraged, but the change should generally not happen in an instant. The Game: There will be five stages of this RPG, and most of them will require you to change your characters. When a stage completes, the RPG will pause and I will edit this post to tell you what I require for the next stage. Once everyone participating has made their character, the game will continue. Stage 1: Stage completed. You are all soldiers within the same battalion within the human army. There aren't really any other restrictions other then being a soldier in the human army, so you can go wild here. But NO GOD MODDING. Stage 2: You are part of Tebryn Arbandi's personal guard. You have no restrictions other then a backstory which makes sense (and leads you into Tebryn's guard) and that you are not allowed to god-mod.
I'm going to remake the OP with updated info. If you want to make a character, use this template: Name: Age: Gender: Appearance: Background: Personality: Weapons/Gear:
Name: "King Quoten VII, Lord of Cumber," Darren Tionar Gender: Male Race: Human Age: 38 Appearance: A slightly scruffy looking man of average height and build. He wears simple peasant clothes, but he keeps them clean and patched; his hair, though poorly cut, is kept neat. Personality: Addled in the head and rather slow-witted, but friendly. Despite his delusions of grandeur, he does not act in an arrogant or standoffish manner, treating all manner of sentient being as an equal. He has a constant, almost eerily cheerful personality; to the point of seeming sometimes devoid of all other emotion. He is capable of staring death in the face and maintaining his smile, possibly because he doesn't fully comprehend what is going on. History (actual): The only child of the famous merchant Farstor Tionar, Darren was raised to take over the family business. Though he dabbles in a few hobbies (fencing and magic), he gladly learned the family trade and was a successful businessman. Or he was, until a small series of Jobian catastrophes (combined with Darren's own ineptitude) utterly ruined the Tionar trading empire. In three days time, the father and son went from millionaires to paupers with naught but a spit of land and a flea-bitten donkey to their name - both remaining only because they were so poor in quality that no bill collector would touch them. The shock of the loss was too much for the aging Farstor, who died of shock. As Darren's heart was still to young to stop working, his brain opted to do the honors. Donning a battered copper helmet as a crown, Darren declared himself King Quoten VII, and his miserable property the Kingdom of Cumber. History (percieved): I haven't worked this out yet Clothing/Armor: Cheap linen tunic and cheap leggings, both bearing only slightly more original cloth than patches, complimented by a pair of broken boots. A battered copper helmet paired with some old leather armor, both salvaged from the trash, are the extent of his bodily protection. His only wealth is a tarnished ring adorned with the crest of Tionar; all that remains of the once vast trading empire. Weapons: A rusty rapier
Name: Sacorax Delemarte Age: 24 Gender: Male Race: Scorpion Clan Appearance: His exoskeleton (skin) is a very fair and pale tone. He had no hair and large black eyes. He stands just at 6 feet tall. His body is very muscular and hard like rocks.His scorpion like tail is white on the bottom but a dark red on the top of it. It's stinger is black. He wears a long dark robe with a deep hood most of the time. Underneath he wears a navy sleeveless top which fits tight to his skin. Then he wears gray leggings with navy pants over them which are cropped short and then sandals on his feet. Background: Sacorax was born and raised like any other scorpion clan child despite the wishes of his clan leader to have him killed in order to sustain the rest of the clan. After his birth, his people all got less rations of food and thus he was often beaten and attacked. However, this dark treatment eventually turned Sacorax against his friends and family and drove him into a dark simmering person who hides himself deep inside his hard shell. Sacorax eventually joined a highly intelligent and powerful group of scorpion clan members which often mingled with the outside world. This is when Sacorax learned of his love for others outside of his clan like the dwarves and Genies but also spawned his hate for humans. He feels indifferent towards the elves and his own people. This group Sacorax is in has felt a change coming to the world, so they have placed Sacorax as a member in a human army, leading a small band of human troops. All but one human know that Sacorax isn't a human and that's the one human he is fond of named Jeff. Personality: He is very dark and cold towards most people. He hates most types of conversation and likes to keep to himself. However, when surrounded by people he respects, Sacorax acts much differently and lightens up a bit. Weapons/Gear: He carries only one sword whose sheath he keeps strapped to his back. The entire sword is about as long as his head to his knee. The blade and grip are both long and curve. The blade is enchanted to never break and is incredibly sharp. (looks like this: http://www.kormax.com/images/UC1373.jpg) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Name: Thrisba Age: Hundreds of years old, appears to be 25ish Gender: Male Race: Elf Appearance: Thrisba’s skin is a pale blue color. His eyes are thin and hazel in color. His hair is long, black tied behind his head tightly. His body is very thin and skinny with a slight abount of muscle mass. Thrisba stands 5’11” tall. Thirsba has two destinctive features. First, his body is covered in stitches and scars. Second, the right side of his face is painted white and the left side is painted black. For clothes, Thirsba wears a simple black t-shirt which very tight and light. He wears similar pants which are light and a bit loose. He doesn’t wear any shoes and has a back which he straps across his back and crosses his chext once. Background: Thrisba grew up as a simple elf in a peaceful home. But at a young age, he dreamed of being an adventurer. So he left his village when he was old enough to handle himself, promising to return to share his stories of adventure. One night, he wandered into a very dark part of the woods. There, he ran into a dark elf that had clearly been possessed or was in league with demons. The elf laid a curse on him. From that day forward, Thrisba’s pain would only grow as time wore on, but only by a fatal sting from one of the scorpion clan could he die. Thirsba woke up the next morning, thinking it only to be a bad dream. As time went on, he learned the curse was very real. He broke his arms, cut his legs and nothing killed him, even a stab through the heart. Each attack was more painful than the next. Thirsba went insane, splitting himself in two to try and cope with his pain. He now has two “personalities” Thris, his light half and Ba, his evil half (the white and black halves of his face). Thrisba eventually went back to find the elf who cursed him, finding he was already dead. Thrisba then went to his home village where he killed every single elf there because of his initial insanity. Eventually thrisba went very sane, figuring out he actually had a gift and not a curse. The dark half of his personality eventually aligned all of Thrisba with Tebryn Arbandi who saw Thrisba as a much needed member of his guard. To this day, Thrisba has no fear except those of the scorpion clan. Personality: Thrisba as a whole is a very level headed and neutral guy. However, Thris and Ba often have arguments among themselves for domination. Thris believes in good where dreams come true and that one day Thrisba can die happily and move onto a new life. Ba believes in destruction and revenge on all living things for the curse he experiences. Ba also wants the extermination of all the scorpion clan members. Weapons/Gear: Thrisba carries several weapons in his backpack which is enchanted by elves to hold more than it appears to be able to and be extremely light. He has practically all weapons known to man and is able to wield them all with mediocre ability. However, his skills in most of the weapons are just a crazed hack and slash.
Name: Capt. Dolan Basche Age: 28 Gender: Male Race: Human Appearance: wears a uniquely styled adamantine armor, wears a read cape attached to adamantine pauldrons, has a sash over his chest plate ordained with few medals, holy scriptures are attached along his armor. His hair is black, short and messy, a scar adorns itself across his forehead down to his nose. Personality: he is a powerful figurehead, never takes no for an answer, has a deep, stern, commanding voice, but he is still caring and loves his brothers in arms. Weapons/Gear: has a adamantine longsword across his belt, a dagger is sheathed on his boot, and a short blade is along his back. History: a hardened veteran that joined the imperial army at the age of 19, he's shown great leadership and quickly rose throught the ranks, he stopped a major siege on an imperial fortress, and defended his troops till reinforcements arrived, for this he recived a medal of honor and the rank of captain. He custom made his armor and weapons when he achieved this rank.
Name: Chalybs Ferreus Age: 20 Gender: Male Race: Elf Appearance: Chalybs has brown/rust colored hair with silver eyes. He's muscular and tone but not overly so. He usually wears dwarfish style clothes; studded belts, chain mail shirts with brown tunics and leather armor on top, and pants that are in a similar fashion. Strangely though, he doesn't resemble an elf at all, he looks like a regular human. He also has a small vile of the last drops of his blood that he wears as a necklace. Background: Chalybs spent the first 10 years of his life living a normal elf life. Nothing all that special other than he never knew his father, and, oddly enough, he had an adopted Scorpion Clan child for a brother. As he grew up him and his brother lived peacefully. Their mother was a great weapon smith who designed the most elegant weapons of their village, and their grandfather was one of the village's best warriors back in the day. They lived peacefully until their village was mysteriously destroyed. Chalybs was blown away from the village in an explosion. During the destruction a shard of metal pierced him through the heart. Chalybs was quickly found by dwarven hermit who had heard the explosion. The dwarf had been part of an exploration team that had set out for the southern lands. The trip was hard and tough, killing most of the team. By the time the actually arrived in the southern lands most of them were dead and the rest died when the ship crashed. This dwarf, the only survivor, had no intention to head back on another deadly journey, but at the same time he was shunned from the lands for being an "Ugly-Deformed-Midget". That's why he chose to become a hermit while studying elven and human technologies and magics on the outskirts of times. The dwarf managed to save Chalybs by using his own blend of dwarven technology and magic to create a new "heart" out of metal for him along with replacing his blood with liquid metal. Since then he has lived with a learned from the dwarf and even taken his name, "Ferreus".That is, until about a year ago when the dwarf was killed. Chalybs and the dwarf were found by a group of revolutionaries. These revolutionaries were from a group that believed itself above all other creatures, what is more, they despised intermingling between races. Originally they believed Chalybs to be a human and the dwarf to be his deformed father, they had no problem with having a meal with them because it was just a common courtesy. It was when they discovered that Chalybs was an elf and the dwarf was... well a dwarf, some "Ugly-Deformed-Midget" that they were infuriated. That night the elves slashed the dwarf's throat and stabbed Chalybs in the heart (of course, his heart is metal, so there wasn't any affect). Since that day Chalybs has been looking for a way to avenge the dwarf, that was when he found out that there was a human army that was fighting that same group of revolutionaries. He has yet to be revealed as an elf due too his non-elven appearance. Personality: Chalybs was taught chivalry inside and out by both his grandfather and his adopted father. In addition to this he is rarely a mean person. Although, he has no tolerance for anyone being non-chivalrous. Chalybs takes great pride in his mastery of all kinds of weapons and of metals, often causing him to appear arrogant; even if he truly is what he says he is. He also likes to boast about his accomplishments, and his abilities, and is quite talkative. Weapons/Gear: Chalybs two sword sized chunks of a special alloy that is a blend of the peaks of dwarven and elven metal. He also carries a similar, but much larger chunk on his back. His magic consists solely of the manipulation of metal, something he has to learn to keep himself alive. His fighting style is a blend of the gracefulness of an elf and the strength of a dwarf.
Name: Evander Leonheart ("Van" for short) Age: 24 Gender: male Race: Human Appearance: 5'8", thin build, but stronger than he looks, dark eyes, lightly tanned complexion, and unkempt black hair, with a long white headband, like a ribbon; typically wears a tunic of black chainmail, black fingerless gloves, long tattered baggy black shorts, silver armor plating protects him from the knees down including metal shoes made of segmented plates, and a tattered black trench coat with chainmail sewn in and a "fur" collar made of metal quills that look like a lion's mane Background: He grew up as the son of a poor swordsmith, but found more interest in using weapons than creating them. His father wasn't very well-known in the world of weaponry, but Van made the name famous by accomplishing great feats using his father's inferior blades. He is well-known for his unique self-taught fighting style, and eventually became one of the most notorious swordsmen in Carlador and was the stuff of legend, until he suffered defeat at the hands of a powerful Elven mage, and disappeared into parts unknown. He resolved that basic weaponry is ultimately inferior to magic and embarked on a quest to find the perfect sword -- one that can cut through magic. Now, years later, he has returned, battle-scarred and with a new sword in hand. Despite the rumors, he refuses to disclose where he acquired this weapon or what it's capable of doing, but is determined to achieve the title of "greatest swordsman of all time." Personality: More bite than bark, he rarely speaks unless spoken to, and has a slow, meditative demeanor... until the fighting starts. In combat, he is quick-witted and swift on his feet, while maintaining a calm exterior. Prefers to communicate through actions, not words. He rarely tells of his past exploits, though many are eager to hear the tales. His words are often ambiguous statements, devoid of sense, but full of wisdom. Weapons/Gear: A 7-ft long two-handed sword. He supposedly won it in a duel with a mage and it is rumored to have two genies trapped inside, but he has neither denied nor confirmed either of these claims. The blade is made of what appears to be black stained-glass with blue streaks, while the hilt is a mysterious dark-grey metal. Van added a three-foot long ornamental chain to the hilt of the sword, for decoration, and sometimes uses this in combat. Despite its fragile appearance, the glass blade has proven to be stronger than most metal, and can absorb some magic attacks. It can also fragment at will and reform itself, and stays sharp without the need of a blacksmith. He often carries it in pieces, like shattered glass, and allows it to reassemble itself before entering battle. The hilt is the only portion that cannot be broken down; gripping the hilt allows complete control over the entire sword.
Name: Christina Hummingbird Age: Unknown (appearance resembles someone in their early twenties.) Gender: Female Race: Genie (mother was human) Appearance: Blonde hair, blue eyes. Standing 6ft, she's exceptionally tall for her age/sex. She often dresses in purple, revealing clothes, much to the dismay of her overprotective friend Megan. Christina can alter her appearance with her magic. Background: Christina was born in the central desert. A daughter of an alcoholic, her childhood was plagued with physical and mental abuse. At the age of seven, Christina's human mother was beaten to death by her abusive father. She ran away and joined a covet of Genies who practiced powerful magic. Here, Christina was afforded a happier life. When her friend and fellow-genie Megan was kidnapped and entrapped by an evil elf, Christina decided to join the human army to hone her skills and reap vengeance on the elves she sorely hates. Personality: Christina is a conceited but powerful woman. She uses her magic to impress others, but she also has a strong moral compass which enables her to help the suffering of humanity. Weapons/Gear: Christina has several daggers tucked away and hidden all over her body.
Reserved for Fantasywriter! [Why isn't everyone human? I thought everyone had to be human in Stage 1 . . .]
Name: Tenes Lahrie Age: 19 Gender: Male Appearance: Strong, but not muscular. He is thin, about 5''8 and has black hair. Prefers a 'hunter' outfit, mostly greens and browns and he dislikes mail or armor. Background: Tenes was born to a single father, his mother having died in his birth, and lived most of his childhood as a nomad with his father. His father was a hunter, and survived by selling what he hunted. He taught Tenes how to use a crossbow and how to skin prey at age 10. His father was barely interested in his son, but protected and taught him out of loyalty. He also tried his best to provide an education, which consisted mostly of classical literature and basic cooking skills. After being sick for a month, his father died when Tenes was 13, but he kept on the nomadic lifestyle he had been taught, killing prey and selling it in town. After several years of routine, Tenes decided he wanted to die with dignity, not from disease or old age, so he joined the army to help fight against an enemy he didn't despise or disdain. Personality: He is mostly outgoing and helpful with everybody else, and is happy to be useful. He is extremely polite and not very insightful regarding matters other than hunting and classic literature. Weapons/Gear: Uses a crossbow for a weapon, and wears gloves and goggles to help him aim better. He also carries a longsword in case he has to do some close quaters combat.
DINGDINGDINGDINGDING! "RISE AND SHINE, YOU MISERABLE PILES OF HORSE CRAP!!" Groans filled the bunk room as the peaceful embrace of sleep was torn away. Many plopped right back down, unwilling to leave what little comfort the straw mattress and thin wool blanket gave them. Others reluctantly resisted the temptation and sluggishly crawled out of bed's sweet embrace. The soldiers had had the routine of the less-than-glamorous life of a soldier beaten into them since day one. Unless other orders were given, they were to go to their cubbies on the other side of the bunk-room, get their clothes and armor, wash up in the shower room (A large, wooden, rectangular structure with 20 hand-driven pumps and a corner full of buckets, located in the center of the barracks ), and report to the main courtyard for role call and orders. *** Capt. Dolan Basche leaned against the slightly-moldy logs which were his living quarters and over-looked the courtyard where soon their would be 500-odd men. He shivered against the cold chill which slowly clawed its way into his self-made adamantine armor, and rubbed his eyes as his early wake began to catch up with him. Beside him Sacorax Delemarte's, his lieutenant, coat flapped in the chill wind as he leaned against the wall, waiting with a scowl for the men slowly streaming out of their bunk-rooms to hurry up.
Sacorax exhaled a large sighed breath and watched the smoky heat rise gently through the air. "Waiting sucks," Sacorax concluded in thought. So far, only a handful of men were ready. One of them, of course, was Jeff. Jeff nodded softly at Sacorax who felt no need to return the gesture. Jeff was a tall man with brown hair and almost orange skin. He was a strange man but would sacrifice his life for Sacorax, so he was kept around despite him knowing too much. More people kept filing out of their bunks which luckily meant less of a wait. "My patcience is running thin with these slow men Dolan," He said to the man next to him. "Perhaps I should make an example of the last one here by killing him."
"My patcience is running thin with these slow men Dolan," He said to the man next to him. "Perhaps I should make an example of the last one here by killing him." Dolan looked over at his lt. the man had always been quite impatient, "patience my friend, these sods will get to it, but," he looked over to the bunkroom and back to Sacorax, "might as well be a sport and give 'em a 30 second warning."
Another day with no word. King Quoten sighed and left the mail room. It was rather odd; he hadn't seen a single report from Cumber since he first arrived at the army. What could possibly be keeping them from arriving? He puzzled over the matter for a minute then, deciding that no news was probably good news, he walked over to the stables to check his royal steed. The old donkey looked the same as ever - old, feeble, bored, and a little stupid. After asking the stable boy to feed him extra rations for the day (that stable boy was certainly uncomfortable around royalty, Quoten could tell be his overexaggerated his bows and seemed to spit the word "sire" at him), the King realized the time and hurried over to the courtyard area to assemble with the others.
Sleep is for weaklings, Van thought. He was wide awake, seated on the floor at the foot of his bunk, when the morning bell was tolled. He'd been deep in meditation for the past hour, steadying his mind for whatever battles awaited. Whether in battle or in daily life, a warrior must always be one step ahead of all others, both mentally and physically. As his cabin-mates groaned and attempted to shake the sleep from their eyes, he was already slowly making his way to the shower room, clothing, armor, and weapon in hand. He washed quickly, but not with undue haste, watching as the newer recruits ran into and out of the washroom at full-sprint, eager to please their superiors. "Hurry up," one of them said, "you dont want to make the captain wait." I don't think the captain would appreciate a soldier who does things haphazardly, Van thought, even if it's something as simple as personal hygiene. But he kept these words to himself. His only reply to the soldier was a slight nod of approval. He exited the washroom, fully clothed, with his sword in hand. The weapon's strange appearance had a tendency to draw undue attention. So he broke it in half and tucked the two pieces under his coat, then stuck the hilt through his belt loop for easy carrying, giving the appearance that he was unarmed. Then he lined up with the other men standing before the Captain and his Lieutenant.
RISE AND SHINE, YOU MISERABLE PILES OF HORSE CRAP!! Chaylbs had long grown accustomed to the hectic mornings. A brutal change from his former hermit life style. But it was the way that this army worked, and he quickly adapted to it. He quickly and efficiently washed himself and dressed before walking outside, being one of the earlier half of the group. He still didn't like the cold though, he didn't have any blood with which to get hypothermia, but at the same time he didn't have blood to keep him warm, meaning he was always cold. "I hate the cold" Chalybs muttered to himself.
All the soldiers had gathered within the courtyard, Basch and Sacorax had been up on a balcony observing the gathering troops. Finally it was time to speak, he walked up to the edge, the cold of morning fogging his breath as he sighed. "Men and women of the 135th imperial regiment, I have a mission," everyone stared up at their captain wondering of what was to come, "a monster has been terrorizing citizens on a nearby road, myself and the lieutenant are gathering a group to go out and eradicate the beast." He stared at the murmuring soldiers. "The soldiers we have picked out are as follows," he pulled out a scroll and read the names of each, "Tenes Lahrie, Darren Tionar, Chalybs Ferreus, Evander Van Leonheart, Christina Hummingbird, Gerish McKin, Yvar Loskow, and Herris Grander," the soldiers who were chosen conversed among themselves, "those who have been called will meet in the strategium hall in 0615 hours for briefing, the rest, go back to your daily routines, that is all." With that he left the balcony, Sacorax diligently following behind.
"Looks like we're going hunting" Chalybs said to himself aloud. those who have been called will meet in the strategium hall in 0615 hours for briefing Why couldn't they just say, 12 hours, or 15 minutes. He hated all this military lingo. He didn't know how long 0615 hours actually was, so he decided to make his way to the "Strategium hall" early; whatever that was.
"Looks like we're going hunting" Chalybs said to himself aloud. Looks like this guy has the right idea, Van thought and fell in line behind Chalybs, following him to the Hall. It never hurt to be early. Besides, 0615 couldn't be too far off. There was a monster terrorizing a town, so it was safe to assume the military wouldn't sleep on it for long; they'd probably be shipped out ASAP. Still, that was a lot of people to send for a simple beast-attacking-a-town mission. Van had single-handedly taken down more than his fair share of monsters. Nearly every man -- and woman -- here could probably boast the same. So why send eight people to do this? "It must be big," he said to himself, aloud.
those who have been called will meet in the strategium hall in 0615 hours for briefing Tenes was barely awake when he received the order. He didn't know where the strategium hall was, or how much time 0615 hours were. Still, it was better than remain in the foul smelling bunk and being bored all day. Uhg, the sounds of the morning were everything but peaceful, soldiers grunting and going from one place to the other had a way of making an already bad place into an outright terrible one. He decided to follow the fellow who went to the strategium hall early. And off we go, he thought.
Christina clung to her bed as someone rudely shouted ''Rise and Shine!''. She was way too sleepy to get up and face the world of militia. Her eyes flickered painfully...there was a lot of sleep in them. Someone said something about a mission. It didn't look like they were going to cease their banter anytime soon so Christina pulled out her cushion and covered her face with it, distressed from the lack of sleep.
It must be big "Yeah, it's either really big, or really over-hyped by the townsfolk. There's no other reason why they would send so many of us. I've hunted for some pretty big monsters in my time, things like giant boars, giant snakes, and super big cats, the kinds that stand taller than a man and live in the elven forests... I've never needed more than myself and maybe 2 or 3 other people max to take them down though, other than the one time we hunted a young adult dragon, took me, my mentor, and a five or so townsfolk. They're sending 8 well trained soldiers for this though." He finished saying with a grim look on his face while they approached the door to the strategium. "Oh, excuse my manners, I never introduced myself, I am Chalybs Ferreus." he said with a slight bow as he opened the door.
"Yeah, it's either really big, or really over-hyped by the townsfolk. There's no other reason why they would send so many of us. I've hunted for some pretty big monsters in my time, things like giant boars, giant snakes, and super big cats, the kinds that stand taller than a man and live in the elven forests... I've never needed more than myself and maybe 2 or 3 other people max to take them down though, other than the one time we hunted a young adult dragon, took me, my mentor, and a five or so townsfolk. They're sending 8 well trained soldiers for this though." He finished saying with a grim look on his face while they approached the door to the strategium. "Oh, excuse my manners, I never introduced myself, I am Chalybs Ferreus." he said with a slight bow as he opened the door. "Evander Leonheart," he replied with a nod before they entered the Hall. "Or just Van for short." He was glad the man hadn't recognized him. There were all sorts of epic tales about him, but most were larger than life. People probably thought The Great Van Leonheart was ten feet tall, breathed fire, and ate nails for breakfast. Of course, the real thing was just as ferocious, but without all the flash. He preferred to stay low-key. "So, you've been to the Elven forests?" he asked as they stepped inside the Strategium Hall. He wasn't really into smalltalk, but they could be waiting for a while, so he might as well be hospitable.
Or just Van for short. So, you've been to the Elven forests? "A pleasure to meet you Van, and I've spent a majority of my life in the Elven forests; with my mentor of course. It's a pretty place, dangerous though." Chalybs replied, leaving out the parts that Van "Didn't need to know". Chalybs looked Van over, he saw that Van was dressed in an odd fashion, one he had not seen from the humans nor the elves or dwarfs. The most interesting part though, was the swordless hilt that was hooked onto his belt. "If you don't mind me asking, what kind of sword is that you're carrying? I've never seen a person who carries a hilt without a sword."
