Across the Four Great Islands (Fantasy RP) *Now Recruiting Again*

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Zemalac:

TikiShades:
- snip -

Yorgmiester:

Zemalac:

TikiShades:
- snip -

Debatra:

Outskirts of Kalgorith

IC: Seaster

Wiping the blood from his nose, Seaster gives a look of disgust. "Call me a coward, but it seems that even without going into the cave, we aren't safe." Seaster passes Eisicin, headed for the cave; Forst already having entered and almost lost into the darkness.

TAG: Fatscalyman

TikiShades:

Debatra:

Outskirts of Kalgorith

IC: Seaster

Wiping the blood from his nose, Seaster gives a look of disgust. "Call me a coward, but it seems that even without going into the cave, we aren't safe." Seaster passes Eisicin, headed for the cave; Forst already having entered and almost lost into the darkness.

TAG: Fatscalyman

TikiShades:

ThreeWords:

Yes. LETS JUST STOP WITH THE SPOILERS FSDSDFDSFSDF BACK TO GAME

By the way, STOP FOCUSING ON THIS SINGLE EVENT. JESUS. I've got millions of other things happening in the city. It's a CAPITAL. You don't have to stay there if you don't want to!

The Arena - Waiting Room

IC: Terath D'Arigan

Terath watched the smoke drift through the room where one of the assassins had disappeared. It was obvious, he decided, that he was more drunk than he had thought. That was the only reasonable explanation for what was happening.

He reviewed the facts while watching the dazzling display of swordplay and magic occuring around him. Mysterious dark figures charging about with knives and vanishing in puffs of smoke did not bode well for whatever was occuring. So. One of them had lunged at him, and...uh...did it vanish then? No, it must still have been around, because he punched it a second time. Or was that the elf?

He moved to take another sip of his beer before realizing that the tankard was empty. He scowled into the beer-stained depths. Apperantly alcohol wasn't around to help him solve the problem.

He took another look around the room. This battle was interesting and all, but it seemed that he was too drunk to participate accurately. And maybe, just maybe, if he slipped out now the golden minotaur wouldn't notice him and carry him off someplace else.

Tankard clutched protectively close to his chest, Terath began edging towards the door.

TAG: Tiki

The Arena - Waiting Room

IC: Tronfros Gronintur

Tronfros had been content to stand back and watch, but now the action had come a little too close for comfort. One of the assassins had clearly tried to attack the little man standing next to him. He didn't know whether or not the man was involved in this, but he guessed not, since he hadn't tried to engage in the battle. Also, if the funny looking drunk man was a threat, the massive tower of fur standing next to him could easily be viewed as a threat as well. He was now in danger, whether by his own accord or not.

He shook himself again, to loosen his muscles, readying himself for battle. His gaze pierced the room even more sharply then before, as he prepared to defend himself. he glanced down at the elf, who was for some reason on the ground, holding his head. So easily encumbered and knocked down. He leaned down and picked up the elf in a firm grip, then planted him on his feet. "Stand up. The danger is not gone yet." He saw that the elf was slightly stunned, like a man who had been hit with a heavy object. He reached down to his belt and into a medium sized bag, and brought out a small stone vial, which he then handed to the still reeling elf. "Here, take a sip of this. It will burn going down, but it will also clear your head."

Now to the fighting. He looked around the room one more time, locating his enemies and would-be allies, then strode forward, pounding toward the center of the room, against the fleeing crowd of people. Many of the assassins seem to be disappearing when killed. This is probably a variation of some ind of summoning skill, with the spellcaster creating mirror images of himself, that can interact with the physical world. When they are struck hard enough, they simply disappear, since they do not have true physical bodies. The trick then, is to find the real one, who is most likely hiding somewhere, or being guarded by his copies. Tronfros figured the best way to help the others find the real assassins was to draw the fake ones to him. After all that's what he was good at.

He stopped about 30 yards from the main group of assassins. He drew in his breath, then let out a giant bellow, pounding his chest and waving his horns, daring them to attack him. He stepped forward and roared again as some of them turned in his direction. He had got their attention now. As several of them charged, he took a deep breath, his eyes glowing faintly blue. He then exhaled through his nose, two sparkling jets of frozen air erupting downward from his nostrils and into his waiting hands. As the assassins closed the distance and were nearly to him, he planted one foot behind him and thrust both arms forward, palms open wide, sending a wall of icy blue air into the oncoming attackers, slowing them almost to a stop.

TAG: Waiting Room peeps, especially Tiki

Outskirts of Kalgorith

IC: Eisicin Lizaeus

Sighing, Eisicin spoke in a rather annoyed tone toward Seaster.
"We were born on this god-forsaken continent, as a god-forsaken species," he said.
"Have you known a safe moment in your life?"
Although he felt no remorse for damaging Seaster, he did not know if Seaster would know the etiquette of the chain of command that he and fellow slaves knew.
"I see you didn't take the hit too harshly," he said in a softer tone as he followed Seaster.
"During my time working under the damned Kobolds, that was how we communicated. Through violence. Our 'masters' wouldn't have had it any other way. One disobeyment, and we were forced to attack our brothers, else we all would be much more severely flogged," he stopped for a breath, and then continued. The memories were painful.
"I tell you this, for I still do not know your past. Were you a slave, like myself?"
After a moment of silence, he spoke in a lower tone.
"Know that wherever you came from or whatever your purpose, we are still brothers of our race, and must work together to survive. One day, if Ulari smiles upon our efforts, we will live quiter, easier lives."
Eisicin made reference to Ulari, the deity in which some Under-elves worshipped solely. Eisicin was deeply religious, always trying to gain the favor of his god. He knew not the religious beliefs of the others in his group, nor did he much care. That was their business.
Quieting down, Seaster withdrew his bow and strung an arrow as he proceeded after Forst, ready to strike at any time. Magic flowed through his fingers, eager for action.

TAG: Tiki

The Arena - Waiting Room

IC: Olm

A grey minotaur had helped him up, and handled him a small stone vial to drink. Its taste was herbal, but with a burning sensation. He stumbled upward, with renewed strength, then holding his ears to a deafening roar behind him. The assailants charged forward at the beast, daggers drawn. It was only then that he realized that they all strode with elegance. Without
fault. Without limping. Without a gash in their side that hampered all but one of the dark figures.

The assailants ran straight into a blizzard storm, erasing them from existance. The four were then replaced by four more clones, as black smoke puffed out of one of them, simeoultaneous with the one near the girl. That assailant ceased his stumbling and became battle ready to clash with the human girl.

TAG: Yorgmiester, Fatscalyman, Tirin, ae86gamer

********************
Outskirts of Kalgorith

The cavern sides were reinforced with the bones of the dead; ogre, kobold, troll, and human alike. Many held wooden shields and iron swords, ready to fight even after Morte, god of death, had taken them away to his world.

The cavern ended with a spiral staircase, made of polished emerald. The path was well lit by topaz, embedded in the marble walls and on torch sticks, magically enchanted to shine like candles. The cavern was only audible by the hollowing breeze that came down the staircase. A hollow almost like the moans of death and warding.

TAG: Fatscalyman

The Arena - Waiting Room - Just Outside the Door

IC: Terath D'Arigan

Terath leaned against the wall outside the waiting room and made an abortive move to take a drink from his tankard. Frowning into the depths he saw no beer, so he shrugged and hung the tankard from his belt.

The whistling roar of some battle-cast spell crashed through the room beyond the door. Terath cocked his head to the side as he listened to the sounds of combat. Those assassins, or whatever they were...those guys were weird. Dressed in black wrappings, vanishing into black smoke like that, that was fell magic indeed. Terath didn't much like magic. Magic tricked the eyes and the hands, making the unreal real and nightmare reality. With something solid, like, say, a gigantic slavering monster, you knew where to shoot. You could blast away until there was nothing left but a reeking smear on the ground. Magic? Not so much. With magic you had to take out the mage, and there was no telling where he'd be.

...wait a minute...

Black.

Black clothes, black smoke.

Black Dusk.

Coincidence? Probably. But Terath was drunk out of his skull and had gold shining in his mind's eye and wasn't about to question his brilliant deduction. What he needed now was to capture one of them. They'd tell him where the rest of the Black Dusk were, he'd go in loaded for bear, and then someone would give him a huge pile of gold. It was a perfect plan.

He scrambled to his feet, swayed for a moment, and tripped while trying to grab the pieces of a disassembled crossbow from the pockets of his coat. He lay there for a while, trying to find the final and vital screw.

TAG: Tiki

The Arena - Outside the Waiting Room

Digging through his pockets, a few of the pieces had fallen into the crowd. Fluctuating from quick to slow, he crawled toward the pieces, and began to assemble them. Reaching for one of the limbs, Terath noticed an assailant appeared behind the grey minotaur, followed by a puff of more black smoke. The figure then began to limp, one hand holding his nose, another holding his side. Looking down, he found the last screw to his crossbow.

TAG: Zemalac

The Arena - Waiting Room

IC: Tronfros Gronintur

The four assassins disappeared as the icy wall hit them. Hmmm...it must not take much force to kill them. They were immediately replaced by four more, who charged him the moment they appeared. Two came strait towards him, the other two circled slightly to the sides. He thought he heard another materialize behind him, but there was no time to check. The others were almost on him. He braced himself, crossing his arms in front of him. At the last moment he swung his arms outward and downward as hard as he could.

The two in the middle were wiped out before their blades could strike. The other two however, managed to stab him in the sides before they too were turned into smoke. Their short knives were too small to pierce his thick hide though, and all they invoked was a small grunt.

He used the momentum to carry him forward, away from the possible attacker behind. Swiveling on one hoof, he turned around, ready for another attack. What he saw though, was not another clone assassin. The black figure limping away was holding one hand to his nose, another to his side, and was bleeding. The mage! Tronfros was about to leap after him when he heard more footsteps behind him, and spun around just in time to punch another clone out of existence. Three more were behind that one. They were wavering though, almost as if they were disappearing of their own accord. Even as braced himself a second time, two of them flickered and went out in a weak spurt of black mist. The mage is loosing his power... he is weakening. The final clone lunged at him, knife bared, and was obliterated by a swift punch.

TAG: Waiting Room Crowd

The Arena - Waiting Room

As the assailant turned, his eyes widened beneath his wrap. With a single puff of smoke, he was gone. Four new assassins appeared from the shadows to take the previous one's place.

TAG: Yorgmiester, Fatscalyman, Tirin, ae86gamer

The Arena - Waiting Room Doorway

IC: Terath D'Arigan

Huh. That was strange.

He'd thought that the assassins were vanishing and then reappearing without wounds somehow, but this figure behind the grey minotaur had just appeared and was already clutching its face and side.

Strange.

Terath fumbled through his pockets for a moment before he found a case of crossbow bolts. He selected a fowler head, rounded and lightly padded with leather. He didn't want to kill the assassin quite yet.

He pushed the lever back until it clicked the string into place, got the bolt into the slot on the second try, and brought the crossbow to his shoulder. The tip was weaving all over the room as he tried to aim.

Note to self: don't drink so much next time.

He took two quiet steps forward and carefully put the point of the bolt about five inches from the back of the assassin's head. With any luck he wouldn't be noticed until he'd pulled the trigger.

He didn't think he'd been noticed.

Pull the trigger slowly, no hurry...

Aaaaaand the assassin vanished again. Wonderful.

Terath stopped just short of pulling the trigger and scanned the room. The wounded assassin would be back, and then Terath would shoot him. It was a perfect plan.

TAG: Tiki, possibly the Waiting Room Crowd if you're looking in my direction

IC: Public Library

Debatra Fallin wanders the shelves, not looking for anything in particular, when something catches his eye.

The War of Arcana

Remembering something he'd heard about the book, he takes it to the front desk to check out.

TAG: Tiki

The Arena - Waiting Room

IC: Olm

The realization came to him with a laugh. "You... you're insulting!" he sneered. "I've figured out your trick. There's only one of you, and the rest are illusions. I first wondered how your illusions were able to hold physical weapons and hurt people, but then I realized that they weren't. YOU were! You run around with your clones, and simply swap places with a clone in a puff of smoke before you get hurt."

Olm took a lantern off of the wall, opening up the oil hatch. "When one dies, you summon another one from the shadows. It's a basic Warden trick." Olm shattered the glass, letting the shards stab into the ground. "I'm an ELF! WE CREATED THE WARDENS!" Olm took a swig of oil, then sprayed it through the open lantern flame, shooting fire like a dragon into the nearest clone. The clone disappeared in the light. Olm threw a chair near the shadows as a clone began to came out, breathing it on fire. The shadows and the clone disappeared. Olm took another swig of oil and continued to disperse the clones and the shadows, until the entire room was illuminated. One assassin was left, stunned and looked around frantically. Black puffs of smoke formed around him repeatedly, but he did not budge from his position.

"You cannot hide from me now!" Olm then kneeled, drawing a pentagram with chalk around him, and began to chant.

"Man of lumber,
Come atone.
Treat this forest
As your own!
"

With a single motion, he jumped out of the circle, now glowing, and slammed his hand down. "Summoning: Treewarden!" A tree formed from the pentagram, as a silhouette-shaped wooden man protruded from it. It extended out a hand, as a wooden spear shot out of it, stabbing the hood of the assassin, pinning him to the wall. The body suddenly gassed, as rocks began to fall from where the assailant once layed. A whoosh of air blew through, and shut the door.

***
IC: Narrator

If you had been a man with good eyes like Olm, you would have seen a familiar figure carry the barely living assailant away. But even Olm was too stunned at the replacement trick to notice the familiar face escape, kill the assailant, and then swap his clothing to become the Town Crier once more.

TAG: Fatscalyman, Tirin, ae86gamer, Zelamac, Yorgmiester

********************
The Galath Library

IC: Librarian

The librarian takes the book from Debatra's hands, putting a stamp onto the back. The stamp glowed blue, showing a clock and a glyph. "You have the week to return the book. If you do not, this book will be returned by this glyph after exploding for your insolence. So don't lose it." he warned, looking at you expectantly.

TAG: Debatra

Galath Library- Front Desk

IC: Debatra Fallin

"Don't worry; a book is always safe with me."

Debatra walks out of the Library and down the road, flipping through the book.

TAG: Tiki

Galath - Town Square

As Debatra is flipping through the book, a black envelope falls out of the pages. No one seems to notice, and there's something rectangular bulging in the middle.

TAG: Debatra

The Arena - Waiting Room

IC: Terath D'Arigan

So...the elf was going crazy and summoning a storm of magic. That was interesting.

What was more interesting was what he had said about the assassin. It made sense, in a way, though it seemed a lot of trouble to do something that could have been just as easily accomplished with a small crossbow or a well-placed knife. There were easier ways to kill people than messing with illusions and stuff.

Terath shook his head. These Enlis people were crazy, every one of them. Best be leaving before they got strange ideas about him. It looked like the assassin wasn't anywhere to be seen, so no chance of starting in on the Black Dusk quite yet. Maybe later, after he'd had a good sleep.

Later, he'd start asking questions. Yeah.

At the moment, though, he really ought to be going. He sidled towards the door and nudged it open, taking a last look around the room before vanishing into the evening air. Pity, really, that the assassin had been killed like that.

TAG: Tiki

Galath Town Square

IC: Jimmy the Quick

Dammit! That traitor! Jimmy scowled, carrying the body of the assassin by the neck. My clone should do fine for a while. Now to just get rid of the evidence... Jimmy looked around, scouting atop the Speared-Grape Inn across the road from the Arena, making sure to keep low.

His eyes spotted upon the Forging Twins shop, giving him an idea. Pulling out a crossbow, he lined a bolt to the cloth that hung above the outdoor shop. Jimmy fired the bolt, which burst to flame upon release, and caught the tent on fire. Almost immediately, the Forging Twins, Forgefire and McCain, began to holler and ran to get water. Jimmy threw the body with his strength, releasing a second bolt with lightning speed through his heart, pinning him against the wall.

As the crowd began to react to the fire, Jimmy hid behind the chimney of the Inn, disappearing with a puff of black smoke.

TAG: Zelamac and Debatra

The Arena - Waiting Room

IC: Freya

Freya looked in awe as the others in the waiting room quickly disposed of the assassins. The entire time she did nothing but clench her sword until her knuckles turned snow white. She was shaking, the years of practice fighting never prepared her for the real thing.

These men fought so easily. It was second nature to them. But I... I didn't even move. If this is what is needed of me then I fear the worst.

Freya eventually let go of her sword and placed her hand on an amulet around her neck.

I must be strong. For my tribe.

TAG:The waiting room crowd.

Galath - Town Square

IC: Debatra Fallin

Debatra picks up the envelope and, just as he's about to open it, notices the fire. He places the envelope in the page it fell from and the book into his bag, and runs toward the flame. As he approaches, he attempts to absorb the fire into his body.

Being unable to absorb the flame, Debatra flies off to help get water. He sees a man sitting next to a well, looking bored.

"Fire!" he shouts at the man, "Fire in the Town Square!" The two of them each get as much water as they can carry and make their ways to the square, Debatra flying ahead while the man, quicker than most, ran around the corner.

TAG: Tiki, everyone at the fire and everyone Debatra passed on the way to the well.

The Arena - Waiting Room

IC: Olm

Wiping off the soot and spitting out the remaining oil from his mouth distastefully, Olm goes to the wall, picking up the black mask that lay pinnd on the wall. The mask felt like a silk, and had a pair of goggles hidden under it.

TAG: Tirin, Fatscalyman, Yorgmiester, ae86gamer

Galath - Town Square

IC: Terath D'Arigan

Terath looked up, squinting at the crowd. He could have sworn he'd heard something, thudding into a nearby building...

"Fire! Fire in the town square!" Yeah, that might be what he'd heard, though he didn't really think so...

It took him a moment to realize what had been shouted, and another moment for orders from his brain to reach through the alcoholic fog and command his limbs. It didn't go as he'd planned. The combination of drunkeness, suddenly panicked crowd and sudden orange glare from the flames served to send him careening into a wall. Fortunately enough, that wall was near the fire, or more specifically near the human chain that was forming to bring water from a nearby well. He joined the chain, recieving only one brief odd look at the crossbow slung under his arm before a bucket was shoved into his hands.

He didn't spill too much water, which was surprising considering his level of intoxication, and he managed to pass the bucket along with a minimum of commotion. The middle of the water chain was a good spot to be, he decided. The people up at the front had a hard job, deciding where to throw the water to put out the fire. Terath didn't think he could do that. He was much better at setting fires than putting them out.

TAG: Tiki, people putting out the fire

The Arena - Waiting Room

IC: Tronfros Gronintur

Tronfros watched as the elf danced quickly about the room, driving out the shadows with bursts of oil-fueled fire. As all the darkness in the room steadily dissipated, the cloned assassins flickered out. Finally there was only one left, cowering against a wall, his hand on his bleeding side.

His gaze darted wildly about, looking desperately for some route of escape. The elf approached him. Then he did something unexpected. He drew a pentagram on the ground, and sat down in hit, then recited a chant. He quickly stepped out as a tree grew from the circle, and a tree-nral formed from it. A spear shot out from it's hand and stabbed into the assassin's hood, pinning him to the wall.

What was the point of that... a sword would have worked just as-

Tronfros' thoughts were suddenly cut off as he beheld the body disintegrate into a puddle of rocks. In almost the same instant, a shape whizzed by. His eyes locked onto the form of a man carrying the assassin's body, the details he could not quite make out. In the next moment it was gone, the door shutting behind it.

He looked back at the elf, who was staring at the pile of clothes where the assasin had been, along with most of the people in the room. He should have just killed it when he could. Tronfros sighed, and rolled his shoulders, shaking off the stress of battle. He feared that he had just gotten himself into something much bigger than he wanted. It would mean trouble for him. He strode towards the elf, who was now kneeling by the pile of robes, examining the mask. He stopped a few feet behind him, looking down at the mask curiously.

"Why did he attack you, elf?"

TAG: Tiki, Waiting Room crowd

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