Fantasy Natural Selection

[Morgrim]

Aldurin is a place filled with monsters trudging through the muck, blood lusting bandits, and natural calamities seeking to rip the world asunder. Not everyone can find peace of mind, or life a long healthy life. Most are even lucky to make it into adulthood. This is the natural selection of things, where only the strong or cunning get to survive and thrive. It is up to you to find your path in life, find some purpose. Maybe to be one of the few mortals to make it to the immortal plains of Skyshard, maybe to strike in rich in the mines of the Core. Maybe to become a legendary hero, or even a villain. It's up to you, but you are going to need a guide, a wise battle-hardened veteran to get you through things.

It's a new dawn in Aldurin, but it is a troubling time, more so then ever before. Great spires of fire and ether have risen up all over the landscape, and pouring from its hungry maw are the cultists. A faceless organization that seeks to purge the land of all things living, and sacrificing the world to their god so that he may enter the mortal realm. With the war raging on though, and the cities divided there is no one to stand in their way except for you. It will be up to you with the help of a few others, and a guide to recruit estranged heroes from all walks of life to raise an army against the cultist threat.



It seems though someone has already taken an interest in you though. As when you walked into town a courier delivered a letter addressed to you telling you to meet at the Ravenscrye inn, a popular pub in the city of Sanctuary. Waiting there was a man named Morgrim, your new guide.



The world of Aldurin is a place split in three. The immortal plains of Skyshard, the treacherous mines of the Core, and lastly the grand landscape of Landfall. The story takes place in Landfall where all mortals dwell and do their business. A land in turmoil as war ravages the land, bandits and monsters prey on the weak, and now the cultists have risen to try and claim the world as their own for a merciless god.



It will be up to you and a few unlikely heroes to rise and fight, but you can no do this alone. You will need the full support of the other denizens of the land, and a powerful army to save this world. Go on quests, build you reputation and collect powerful equipment that will aid you in the fight for Aldurin. Or die trying. After all this is Natural Selection, and it is no place for the weak or foolish.



Don't worry though as you will have your guide, a trusty companion that will guide you through the land and help you on your journey. Morgrim will always be there with sound advice, a sense of direction, and a common goal to help you through these tough times. Don't mind the smell though.


LINKS:

OOC https://www.rpnation.com/threads/natural-selection-ooc.344249/

CS https://www.rpnation.com/threads/natural-selection-character-sheets.344257/

EXTRA https://www.rpnation.com/threads/natural-selection-extras-page.344252/

 

[Morgrim]

Rules: ​

This stuff is important more so than anything else so please read this.

• Be respectful of your peers. This is a group rp which means everyone contributes and works together to make something enjoyable and amazing. So I will not tolerate any fighting in the OOC.

• Natural Selection has a standard to follow. This means all posts must be a minimum of two paragraphs with proper spelling and grammar. Now a mistake or two is understandable, but if what you write is unreadable or spelling issues become a common problem that simply won't do.

• Myself ( Morgrim ) and any of my Co-Gms have been trusted with maintaining this rp, and what that means is that what we say goes. If we tell you to not do something that means don't do it. Please be respectful of this.

• Posting is now more lax. Everyone has a life, and one can be more busy than another. I may occasionally bug you for a post, but only do so when comfortable. That being said if you are taking too long other people may skip you and go ahead. It will be up to you to catch up if you fall behind. If you are waiting on someone please give them 3 days before posting if they take longer or give you permission continue on.

• Before you are allowed to post anything you must for submit a character, and it must be accepted by myself, or by one of the Co-Gms. No posting until then.

If you have read this rules please like this post.

 

[Morgrim]

We'll be starting the RP when we have enough players with their characters submitted.

 

[Morgrim]

(After the long wait we can finally start making shit happen. Welcome to the rp, and be sure to have lots of fun.)

Dawn was breaking over Landfall, the twin suns rising over the horizon from opposite sides of each other. Helios breaking light over the east, and Alpha the second sun dawning light on the west. The people of the great cities scattered over the country were waking up to start their morning duties, or to open shop and display their unique and intriguing wares. At least that was how it was for many of the city dwellers. The soldiers for the various armies, and town guards had started their training hours ago, and began rotating shifts so that after a long night on watch they may finally be able to get a few hours of rest before they begin again in a brutal training regimen. Then there were the few, and special different people, the deviants of the natural workings of Landfall. One such man was the necromancer named Morgrim.

Morgrim had been staying in Sanctuary for roughly a week now, and the experience was less then optimal, but no less unexpected for him. When he strode into town all those days ago he had been stopped by the guards standing watch. Two beefy men with big beards and steely looking eyes that could pierce through stone. To Morgrim it sure looked like they were trying to cut him down with their looks, but he wasn't surprised, being a necromancer earns you enough looks as is, but looking like death at the same time attracts a lot of prejudice. Morgrim reached into a pouch that was hanging on the back side of his outfit, and when he did both the guards gripped the handle of their swords and grunted.

"Watch it necromancer, make one more move and we'll cut you to pieces, no coming back from that!" Said the first guard, but Morgrim slowly raised his other hand and assured them he meant no harm.

"There is no need to be so rash, I am just reaching for my papers. I am a guide, and I am here to raise a team to fight the cultists, I am sure you have heard of them." After he spoke both the guards lowered their swords. They had indeed heard of it since Sanctuary was one of the only places that were actively encouraging guides both new, and experienced to help them out. Morgrim pulled the papers from his pouch and showed them first, then the tattoo on his left hand signalling that he was indeed a guide, even though a new one. He then put his papers away, and the second guard shouted to a man on the scaffold to open the gates. The gate was made from a huge, artfully cut slab of iron with the insignia of the town seal on it, a dragon with a sword and shield. The sound of the metal digging into the earth as it was being pulled back to open the way to the city was less than pleasant, but it filled Morgrim with confidence to see how seriously the defense of such an intelligent city was being taken. Morgrim may find it that this is the only place he could be truly safe.

The city was still waking up, and people were still setting up for the rest of the day, but as he walked through the town he got plenty of looks. A man strides in with black robes and rotting flesh, stinking worse than the barn so it was no surprise. He hoped that his new recruits would be slightly more accepting then the common city folk who fear the slightest signs of danger. After a brief few moments of walking he could see the tavern he was suppose to be at, and sooner later smell it. He could smell the alcohol, and the tender cooking of meat. He was sure that the tavern had a giant fire inside cooking a delicious roast boar on a spit, and his stomach grumbled. He hadn't eaten in two days, and he was ready to sit down and finally take a quick reprieve.

More stares greeted him when he walked into the stuffy building, but when he sat down and dropped a few gold coins on the table most looked away. He looked over the menu for a brief moments, but he already knew what he wanted.

"I'll take the roast special, and some water. I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to be here for a couple hours probably. Official guide business, I assure you nothing to worry about." Morgrim tried to assure the woman.

The tavern wench nodded, and set a plate in front of him that was full with food that could easily fill two hungry men. It was a popular choice when the fires were roasting meat in the back sending smells through the entire building. Morgrim went to go skulk in one of the corners of the building after he had his fill of the meal, something he impressively finished. Some of the sauce and meat had stuck to his bony right hand, and when he sucked on the digit one of the patrons puked, and ran out of the building only to puke again. Morgrim couldn't help but stifle a laugh. He really did stick out, so when the others would come they should be able to spot him easily enough.

He recalled having sent out the letters a week ago, finding people from all corners of landfalls. Rumors were always spreading around, and strange individuals with amazing stories popped up. He wouldn't be surprised if a few people have heard of him before, but some of the people he looked into were downright legends in their own right. Spies that had infiltrated the Silver Legion, and her mentor. An assassin that had made a living as a legend from the time they were still a child. Elves that were masters of magic, or the last of their kind, and other odd individuals. Some of those peoples fame may not have been much, but Morgrim was smart enough to know that fame does not match the skill, and all the people he looked into could become great warriors. For now he would sit and wait until the others come.

 

[Federoff]

Inventory:
Twin Daggers, Leather Armor, Hat

Locations:
Sanctuary, Tavern

Tags:
Morgrim , @Everyoneelse

Color/Font Key:
Dark Gray Bold= Morgrim
White = Soldier
Brown = Crow
Italicized = Thoughts
"Italicized with quotes" = Crow speaking thoughts allowed​

Pain, fear, saddness, guilt, anger, hurt. Things I can fix

Hanging over the sky the suns hung dangled and dancing, bringing the dawn and the start of a new day. Like gems of light that gleamed and glistened across the sky. The light slowly spreads across the land, painting images and pictures for the world to see. They could not see the pictures but he could. Waves of color mixing, matching, merging. Running into each other and singing a song of peace and harmony. Some could not understand it while others could. Soon the songs and pictures merged to create and fill the world around them. Both people and animals would soon awaken to start their day once more. Will the eggs break right, will the dough rise just right? Will they get it while its fresh, or will they come late and blame me for the stale bread? How much fish will I catch today? How will I support my family today? Will he answer me this time? How can I treat this? What will I do today?

Some, however, had their day start long before the suns rose. The eagle eagerly circling for an early breakfast, soldiers who were already sparing, guards who were already guarding, thieves who were already thieving. They were different, but the same. From the moment they wake till the moment they dream thoughts and questions will plague their mind endlessly, and for some remorselessly hound their dreams. These questions, and more, were the worriers and thoughts that ran through each mind, individualized to fit their own person.

For them, however, the course of their day consisted of walking. Like a gust of wind he silently moved on. They did not notice he was there, and they would not notice that he was gone. To them he never existed in the first place. He was the boy who wasn't. He traveled faster then they ever could, he walked yet he didn't. For the past 14 days he has found himself staying in Sanctuary, helping those in need of help. He gave them what they wanted, what they needed. Sometimes it was something real, Cracked brown pain, dry, scraping. Thirsty. Water. More times then not it would be words of comfort to untangle the tangled knot of hurt each person carried within them. He would sense their pains, both of past and present, come into their life and untangle the knot, then disappear without a trace. Leaving them better and happier then they once were.

It was here in where the young man who was old found him. Sanctuary. A city plopped on top of the land, like a cherry on a cake. Nature slowly, inch by inch, dissipated as one got closer and closer to the city walls, sometimes he did not like this place. Years of pain and suffering, people hurting and pleading for help. Yet the help never came, instead it was the rope that bound and bound, tighter and tighter. It's change over the years, but it was still a mirror of before. Despite the pain it brought however it seemed to bring people together, a new start for those in need. A kindness soon turned sour and twisted, the promise was a lie to some, and kind slums to others.

The man had been one of the few people throughout his brief, but long, life of living that has seen him. Morgrim. He was no longer living, but he was not dead either. In him was two songs that sung against each other, clashing and crashing with each other. Life and death, young and old. Wisdom knows enduring is pain. He hurts for her, another of many he couldn't save. He carries necessary deaths. Morgrim had found him tapping his foot against the wall just outside the hospital, making no noise. No echo. The boy wondered for a time how he was able to see him, not many people saw him the way her did. He was the boy who wasn't. The answer was a simple one. The man was a mage, a necromancer, so it soon made sense to him. "What are you doing?" Morgrim had asked him. He did not think to respond at first as he just assumed that Morgrim was just talking to someone else. However as time passed between each impact of his foot he did not sense the necromancer presence decay. "Listening" he replied.

"Choking Fear, can't think from the medicine but the cuts wrack me with every heartbeat. Hot white pain, everything burns. I can't, I can't, I'm going to... I'm Dying, I'm... ...Dead." The man with two songs within him eyed the young boy from behind his mask, a mixture of confusion and curiosity written hidden behind the mask. The boy felt different to what he looked like, a young boy no older than 16, but the same at the same time. He began to speak, "What the," but was shortly cut off by the boys ramblings. "Every breath slower. Like lying in a warm bath. Sliding away. Smell of my daughter's hair when I kiss her goodnight. Gone"

With that the he jumped down from the wall, not making any noise nor any impact when he landed, and walked towards the hospital. Mogrim, who was still confused, curiously followed the strange boy, making a note of how he moved. He watched from the entrance as the young boy walked up to a soldier with a broken arm. "Cracked brown pain, dry, scraping. Thirsty. Here." He reached for the canteen next to the soldier's bed and held it for them, allowing them to drink as much as they needed to. "Thank you" He put the cap back on the placed it back to where it was before walking away and outside.

"It's alright. He won't remember me." The boy explained to Morgrim. It took a few moments to put the pieces of the puzzle together. How no one reacted, or even acknowledged, to his presence; his strange ramblings, the way he moved swiftly and silently, why he felt different, and why the soldier wouldn't remember him helping. His eyes raised in surprise, he had never considered the thought before now. "Your a spirit, aren't you? And your using your powers as a spirit to help people"

"Yes. I used to think I was a ghost. I didn't know. I made mistakes... But I made friends, too. Then a Templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends. I lost everything. I learned how to be more like what I am. It made me different, but stronger. I can feel more. I can help." He messed with his leather gloves, pulling down slightly to make a snug fit as he replied to Morgrim's query. Hmm... He never thought he'd meet a spirit, let alone a friendly one, with such strong ties to the world around them. Thinking about what the boy said he began to draw a sort of connection and sympathy for him. For, he too, knew what it was like to loose everything. Especially to the Templar order, the bastards that say they work for peace yet act more like cocky nobles. "Not all Templar's are bad, only those that give into the old songs" The young man stated to Morgrim, who was slightly caught off guard by it. How did he know he was thinking about the Templar's? The mysterious boy continued to peek his interest over and over. With a small smile he asked the boy, "Say. What's your name?"

"I am me. I am Crow" Crow replied to the old man that was young. "Crow huh? Well how would you like to help me with my quest? I'm trying to gather a group of people to take on the cultists" The boy didn't pose any threat to him, if he did he would of been able to detect it, and he seemed eager to help others. Compassionate even. Crow thought about it for a while, he had seen heard about, and even seen, the cultists before. He smiled. "Yes. I came here to help. I can be hard to see. I can kill things that would hurt people. I-I won't get in the way. Tiny, no trouble, no notice taken unless you want them to."

Since then Crow had tagged along with Morgrim and vise versa. Crow had helped Mogrim pen a few of the letters while Mogrim had followed Crow to watch how he helped others and learn how his mind worked. Now the two sit together in anticipation, taking up one of the tavern corners, awaiting for the arrival of those they had reached out to. As the man who ran out barfing out a strange mixture of chunks of food and green liquid, a byproduct of Morgrim and his dual natured existence, Crow would appear sitting on the actual table, instead of on a chair like a normal person. Staring at the meeting point of the tavern floor and wall, his strange domed hat would hide most of his face as he faced away from the rest of the room. "They're here" The cryptic boy stated, sensing the presence of some of, if not most, the recipients of Morgrim's letter.​

Actions

"Flash back of how Morgrim and Crow met (paragraphs 4-10),"Crow and Morgrim sitting in a tavern, waiting for peoplez to come

 

[CarpeNoctem1213]

Tags:

Morgrim Federoff​

Location:

Santuary​

Mood:

Excited, apprehensive​

Notes:

Current clothes.
*Ringwe Edhel: "Cold Elf" in the common Elvish tongue.
**Ai er: "Little one" in the common Elvish tongue.​

Health:

100/100

One Week Prior

Dakul stared intently at the book before him, his icy blue eyes darting over the weathered page as his hand traced a white quill over the paper he was writing on. The page depicted only a complex magic formula and a title: Ice Shell. His quill glowed slightly as the ink formed the lines of the magic runes that gave the spell its power. He had to use a specially enchanted writing implement to prevent the inherent magic of the runes from burning the parchment to ash as soon as he started writing, but even so the faint scent of hot ink wafted up to his pale nose, but didn't break his focus.

A voice piped up behind him out of nowhere, startling him and almost making him knock over his ink well, nearly ruining the hours of work he'd spent on it. "Lord Tavvan," said a small elvish girl, no older than him, with a voice like snow blowing off a drift, "This letter was delivered for you. He said it was urgent." The girl held out a latter with the seal of the Guides. He gave it a curious look and wrinkled his nose at the scent of old death that emanated from the paper, as if it had laid in a grave with it's occupant before being brought to him. He took it from the girl with a quite thanks and she bowed without a word, turning and walking back into the dimly lit stacks of the college's library. Dakul looked out the window and was surprised to see that it was already dark and the witchlights set at intervals on the walls and shelves illuminated the dusty stacks with pale white light.

He blinked his burning eyes and rubbed them with the heel of his palm before gingerly breaking the seal on the letter and opening it. His eyes, quizzical at first, became more feverishly excited as they moved farther down the page. His pale face split into a grin and he slammed the book in front of him shut, earning him a few irritated glares from the other library patrons, but he paid them no mind as he pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and retrieved an ordinary brown quill from his satchel. He hastily scribbled a note to his parents, explaining that he had to leave for Sanctuary immediately and asking them to book him passage to the city. The meeting was to be in a week's time, which would give him only a few days to prepare for the journey. He folded the letter carefully and muttered a simple incantation, waving his hand over the place where the edges of the parchment overlapped. A faint blue glow spread across the line and solidified into a seal of ice which spread into an icy replica of his family seal in the center.

Satisfied, he shoved his things into his satchel and left the library, first to give the letter to a courier, then to his room to throw together the things he'd need for his journey to the south. This was finally his chance to prove to his parents that he could actually use his talents to make a name for himself outside of the family traditions of divination and transmutation!

Present Day

Dakul stared up at the huge iron gates of Sanctuary, which were slowly grinding open, setting his teeth on edge. The intricately carved dragon of the city's symbol looked down at him fiercely, daring him to cause trouble while inside it's domain. He gave the draconic facsimile a respectful nod as he stepped through the gates. He'd been in this city only a handful of times over the years, and always under the strict supervision of his parents. He had never seen beyond the areas that his parents traveled on their business, and his heart was pounding in his cold chest, sending electric excitement shooting through his veins.

He ran through the instructions penned in the letter he'd received a week ago in his head for what was probably the hundredth time since he'd left home. He'd make his way to the tavern which was to their meeting point by going down that street, turning left...here before going to that street and following it to the shop with the unusual wares in the window and finally following the smell of freshly cooking meat down the next street.

A wood smoke-tinged breeze blew down the street, making his dark traveling cloak whip up behind him and making the scent of--was that boar? Delicious--in his nose even stronger. He grinned and waved at a small human child, no older than four or five who was staring at him with wonder shining in his brown eyes and pulling on his mother's dress as she browsed the produce in the cart in front of her. He imagined all but a handful of the people in Sanctuary had seen a Ringwe Edhel* before. His people rarely left the sanctuary of Elnthyr and to see one of the tall, icy folk must truly be a sight to behold for those not accustomed to it, especially one clothed in noble regalia and toting a staff made of ice that emanated a cold mist in the dawn light from the twin suns rising on the horizon.

He didn't stop to see if the woman turned to see what her ai er** was trying to madly to get her attention for. Instead, he continued his excited stride toward the tavern, which was now in view, smoke pouring from its chimney a welcome site after such a long trip. He hadn't eaten in almost a week and food was looking promising. It would have to wait, however; first, he'd have to attend to business with this guide, Morgrim, who had sent him the letter.

He approached the tavern, sidestepping a relatively recent puddle of vomit, and opened the tavern door, blinking at the dim light inside after the brightness of the mid-morning sun. He looked around for his guide, not that it took much effort with everyone else in the tavern staring in the same direction. His eyes followed the gaze of the tavern's patrons and landed on the two figures in the corner. One, sitting with his back to the other patrons and oddly on top of the table, and the other one who quite honestly looked like death itself.

Dakul wrinkled his nose at the now-familiar scent that mixed with the smell of alcohol and roasting meat in the tavern. That man was definitely the one he was looking for, and it explained why the letter had such a...unique scent to it. Dakul made his way between tables and patrons, earning a few odd glances himself as he approached the pair. He pulled out a chair and sat down, draping his arm over the back of the chair in a way that would make his mother smack him into the next week and putting a foot up on the empty chair next to him.

"Lord Dakul Tavvan, at your service," he said with a grin, a bit louder than he'd intended. His grin slipped a bit and he lowered his voice, his northern accent giving a pleasant lilt to his words. "I assume you're the guide, Morgrim, right?"

 

[Alstromeria]

The tavern was a lively place. They usually were. Full of good food, drink, bustling with patrons, sometimes bards, some music, and most importantly, good spirits. That last part was partucularly important to Riktos Killignar, who had just come back from a sucessful manhunt. Well he'd been back, it'd been about four days already. After claiming the bounty on a particularly naughty mercenery turned bandit, he had recieved a letter telling him to arrive in Sanctuary, at this particular tavern. Seeing as he had nothing better to do for the next couple of weeks other than snatch another bounty off the desk and stump about in the woods untill he happened to run into the poor soul, he decided it would be a good idea. The mountain of a man had no use for gold anyways, so he had bought a room, and for the past four nights, a round for most of the people at the bar. This had made him quite popular with the regulars, and at this time Riktos was telling quite the good joke.

The joke involved much irony, a "bumpy jackass ride of emotions" some would say. It consisted of stating one thing to dissapoint, and another after that to lift the listeners spirits. "I was in a tavern like this not long ago!" His voice boomed, "BUT! There was only one barmaid..." This warrented groans of sympathy from the men at the bar. "...FOR EACH MAN!" "EYYYYYYYYYY" "Sadly, they didn't serve pints..." "Awww" "...ONLY BUCKETS!" "EYYYYYYYYYY" "There was one barmaid. But she wore spectacles..." "Awww..." "...AND NOTHING ELSE!" "EYYYYYYYY" "The guards came..." "Awwww *fookin' 'ell." "...THEY BROUGHT US WENCHES!" "EYYYYYYY" "They cost five gold..." "Awww..." "...I HAD TWENTY!" "EYYYYYYY"

Riktos was quite glad that he'd brightened up the mood in the already cheery bar. With that he downed the rest of his tankard of ale, noticing a peculiar individual out of the corner of his eye. "And that is all..." Riktos said, setting his tankard down. The men he'd bought drinks for protested, it wasn't even noon yet and they were still sober enough to see straight. "...TILL NEXT TIME!" "EYYYYYYYY!" Riktos accepted multiple pats of thanks on his broad shoulders, and made his way over to the corner with another tankard to where the man who was (or certainly looked like) his future guide.

The large, mountain of a man sat down as best he could in the chairs there in the tavern and began nursing his tankard of ale goodnaturedly. He adjusted a bit, shifting his bulk to a more comfortable position. By now, some others had arrived as well, and were siting at the table with him. "Well met friend!" He rumbled, then caught a whiff of the necromancer. The bear in him was fine with it, the bear was fed, and didnt need to consume any carrion for the time being. However the man was not. He played it off by pretending to clear his throat. "Wha-MMMHHh! What manner of adventure awaits us and the party?" The beaorning asked, thumping his chest with the hand that didn't hold his drink, "I'm Riktos, and as long as I can hit things, I'm happy!"

 

[Javax]

Health: 98%

• ⊗
• ⊗
• ⊗
• ⊗

• Tagged: Morgrim | Alstromeria | Federoff | CarpeNoctem1213
  
  Mentioned: Morgrim | Riktos | Crow | Dakul
• Status: Healthy
  
  Location: Hideout ➝ Sanctuary | Ravenscrye Tavern
• [Outfit]
  
  Equipment:
  ‣ Shadow Bow
  ‣ 28 Arrows
  ‣ Shadow Daggers
  ‣ Longsword | Disguised as a Cane
  
  Miscellaneous: N/A
• Notes: N/A
  
  [Character Sheet]

She hated surprises.

So when one of the assassin's beasts of shadow—specifically, a crow made purely of the dark, intangible substance—dropped an unexpected, wax-sealed letter containing a request for her presence in a week's time, Roxii was not at all pleased. The Lythari had just finished a job that had taken up much of her time—not to mention that the job didn't quite go as planned. As a result, she had received a few nicks and scratches and bruises, even a pretty good laceration on her left bicep, and when the sealed letter was plopped on her desk just as she was walking in to her study, Roxii couldn't help the aggravation and anger that bubbled within her like lava. Did this supposed Guide, Morgrim, really expect Landfall's greatest assassin to just show up on a whim to meet with a man she could most likely kill without moving even the stub of her pinky?

Apparently so.

Either the man was unrealistically optimistic or undoubtedly stupid. But the wolf-elf could give him credit for going through the trouble of trying to recruit her to his "Team". However, the Lythari was a trained killer since she could remember, learning how to take down brutes three times her size with only a rag. She was a shadow personified, knowing how to be utterly undetectable to some of the most powerful magic-wielders. She possessed deadly precision and accuracy, despite her... "disabilities". And most importantly, the assassin did not do well with others. Not to mention the man sent the rogue a letter which was meant to be read.

Yeah. Definitely stupid.

Roxii flicked an ear in irritation and averted her attention to a stack of opened letters on the corner of her desk. She had quite a collection of unfinished jobs to complete. It definitely hasn't been slow for the assassin this time of year. At one point, she had at least four assassination requests a day come in for a solid six days. That was quite a busy time, especially since people all over Landfall requested her "assistance".

But her attention wasn't on the workload stacked there on her tidy desk. No, her focus was on the letter buried beneath the petty "Kill this evil so-and-so person" requests, second from the bottom of the stack. the wolf-elf reached over and pulled the letter from the stack with expert grace, the letters on top staying nearly just as they were. The rogue sent out a short pulse of darkness, her shadow magic feeling over the letter in her hand. The slightly-raised ink ridges were made clear on the paper, revealing its contents. The client wanted her to travel to Sanctuary to assassinate a noble by the name of Victor Farrington. There was no explanation as to why the anonymous client wanted the rich man dead, but that was a part of the assassin's policy: no questions asked.

The Lythari had thrown the request straight in the pile upon its arrival. Sanctuary was not a welcoming place, nor did the city offer any fond memories for her. In fact, Roxii possessed rather terrible memories from the city, and she had hoped to leave the past there far behind. Even so, assassination missions centered in Sanctuary were extremely dangerous and risky; a large amount of civilians crowded in one large city where everyone knew each other, as well as dozens upon dozens of guards monitoring at all times of day and night. If she were to accept the job, there was no telling how long she'd be working on the mission. It could take weeks, maybe even months, just to make sure she possessed all the details of how she was going to go about killing Mr. Farrington. And judging by the promise for a very large payment after the deed was done scrawled at the bottom of the page, Roxii assumed the job wouldn't be very simple.

Perhaps she could kill two birds with one stone, though. Travel to Sanctuary to assassinate a noble and then find out what this idiotic Guide wants with her service. These two jobs could put her at the top of the list, allowing her to make enough money to live in the lap of luxury for the rest of her days, and at such a young age, too. Maybe going to Sanctuary wouldn't be as much of a risk as she'd thought. Roxii has done riskier, such as killing the corrupt king and queen of a dying kingdom in the far reaches of Landfall in their own castle. She escaped. Almost.

The wolf-elf pondered over the pros and cons for a few more moments before standing up out of her chair. She strapped her weapons to her body, gathered the necessary supplies for a long travel, and began leaving the room before stopping in the doorway to give one last glance at her study. The candle on her desk was the only thing that moved for a moment as she surveyed the filled bookcases, the extravagant study desk, the expensive wall art. The Lythari didn't stand there for too long as she closed the door behind her, sending a shadow to extinguish the candle's flame and submerging the room in darkness.


Roxii had ridden on her horse of shadow for nearly the entire week leading up to the meeting with Morgrim. She had to ride all day and almost all night, stopping only to hunt, refill her canteen, or sleep for a couple hours. She made sure to stray from the path only when no one was nearby or if she wanted to bypass a small village or town. However, as she approached the end of the forest and the infamous city of Sanctuary could be seen poking over the horizon, the dark assassin unmounted her horse and dismissed the loyal shadows.

After the half-elf situated herself by stretching her sore muscles and tugging on her hood, she whipped out her longsword, the sheath disguised as a long black cane. A ferocious wolf's head was mounted atop the end, serving as the pommel of the sword. She gripped the handle of the cane with careless grace, moving towards the large gates leading into the city and carefully swinging the cane back and forth like a lost, blind traveler.

The guards at the gate moved to bar the way to the closed gates, suspicion glazing over their eyes. Their hands stayed by their sides when they noticed it was just a small woman. But the wolf-elf kept moving towards the city. The guards moved their hands to the swords at their sides. One of them growled in a commanding voice, "Halt!"

Roxii stopped in her tracks. She swallowed her arrogance and irritation at being yelled at by some greedy brute as if she were his bitch and laced a well-practiced innocence into her voice, "Wha-? H- Hello? Am I- Am I finally here?" She tapped the cane on the ground twice as if feeling the difference between the dirt road of the wilderness and the gravel road of the city. "Is- Is this Sancutary?"

The guards seemed a bit taken aback by the supposed innocence of the traveler, looking to each other with confusion in their eyes. The one who spoke before ignored her questions and demanded, "State your business, lone traveler."

The rogue shifted between her feet in mock embarrassment. "I- I came to- to live with m- my Aunt Talynn," she stammered.

The men glanced at each other again. The one who had been speaking, who she assumed to be their captain, scanned her from head to toe. He then surveyed their surroundings. "Did you come here alone?" he finally asked. "How did a blind bitch like you make it here alive?"

Roxii ground her teeth and maintained that faux innocence, her voice dropping low in volume and laced with pain and mourning. "My brother... H- He was to accompany me, but..." She paused, as if afraid of recalling the event. "B- But we ran into bandits on the road, and–" Her voice cracked. "I just ran. His last words were to f- follow the path." The assassin finished her story with a mock sob, a whimper escaping her lips.

There was a moment of silence as the guards waited for the captain to process the story. The leader seemed to have fallen into her makeshift story judging by the shift in tone the man used when he answered, "Her shop is located in the town square, next to the alchemy shop. Enjoy your stay in Sanctuary."

The wolf-elf drew her fake sobbing to a subtle halt as the large gates were opened. "Th- Thank you." She tapped the ground occasionally as if feeling her way into the city. Once she was past the guards and the gate, its large doors coming to a slow close, Roxii allowed the slightest of mischievous smiles to grace her lips.


A couple days had passed since the Lythari arrived at Sanctuary. She had gathered plenty of information about the nobleman, Victor Farrington. Apparently, his favorite pastime was to eat and drink merrily and rent out rooms in the tavern and spend quality time with the local whores under his wife's nose. Fortunately, the tavern, Ravenscrye, was where the Guide, Morgrim, wanted to meet. And luckily, both the Guide and the target were going to be at the same place at the same time. How convenient.

Roxii waited on the second floor of the tavern, the balcony overlooking the common area of the building. The terrible stink of drunken bastards severely overpowered the delicious smell of roasting meat and sweet alcohol. The men's boisterous laughter and yelling filled the tavern As they chowed down on delicious food and poured gallons of alcohol into their already drunk bodies. One man in particular seemed to enjoy the atmosphere of the tavern. He made rather irritating jokes and bought multiple rounds for the entire building, encouraging the men to get even more drunk. Just what they needed...

The rogue's magic awoke suddenly, drawing her attention to the door. There, two men walked in. However, neither of them seemed entirely... human. One of them had the stink of death emanating off of him, reminding her of the stench that accompanied Morgrim's letter a week ago. That much be the Guide, then. His accomplice, however, was only half detectable. He seemed somewhat translucent to her magic, as if he were some sort of spirit. Those two seemed definitely intriguing, and if the former was truly the Guide, Morgrim, then this would definitely be an interesting conversation.

The large, joking man made his way over to the undead man just as another entered the tavern. Roxii scented the man who entered and recognized him immediately: Victor Farrington, one of the wealthiest noblemen in the city, and also one of the lowest of lying scum. Farrington made his way to the bar underneath the balcony and plopped himself onto a stool closest to the barmaid, his eyes taking in the curves of her body. He ordered a drink and, as another female worker was walking by, he slapped her ass, causing her to yelp in fright.

As the man was turned around, Roxii had expertly dropped a drop of poison into the man's drink as it was set in front of him. Farrington turned back around and took a swig of his alcohol. It didn't take long for the poison to kick in. The man clamped his hands around his throat as his airways began to swell and constrict his breathing. His face turned white then blue then purple as he began choking to death and then he collapsed. Blood began spurting out of his mouth and eyes and nose as the poison burned and mutilated his insides. One of the female workers screamed in fear at the dying man, which gathered the attention of the entire tavern.

The owner of the tavern, a human male in his forties, ran up the stairs to find anyone who shouldn't be where they should be, but the assassin had already disappeared off the balcony, slipping past the owner down the stairs to take her place at a corner table away from the other screaming occupants.

 

[Berries]

The sight of Mili's fruit stall was a common one in Sanctuary, and a welcome one too. If you could call it a stall, at least. Two dried, cracked wooden crates stacked side-by-side topped with a shaggy white rag were what composed the small stall, but nevertheless she made good business. After all, her mage abilities meant that she was able to sell out-of-season fruit in bulk which was always in high demand. Today, Mili's stand was loaded with blueberries. She only ever sold one type of fruit at a time because making multiples of different fruits was more of a strain on her mana pool. The wood elf had prepared today's selection the night before and had managed a solid six baskets teeming with the berries. She still felt her mana pool recooperating from the strain but it was a livable amount of mana for the day.

At the very least her shabby stall was easy to assemble so she was able to begin her work day before almost all of the other market stalls. Already she had sold three baskets and her coin purse was satisfactorily heavy. Berries tended to be a crowd favorite, though they did cost her more effort because multiplying such small fruits into large bounties was a lot of work. Glancing at the sun, the elf took in the time. She was supposed to meet some guide in the tavern soon, and that meeting was why she had decided to come to Sanctuary to sell this week. Normally she wouldn't have cycled back to the city for another two weeks but Mili didn't often receive mail so she had made a special detour for this exact purpose.

However, before she could venture to the tavern she had one more thing to take care of. Right on time she had seen a grubby little hand out of the corner of her eye. "How many times have I told you that you're a bad theif?" The elf asked with slight irritation. On command, a young human boy popped out of the alleyway grinning sheepishly.

"Not enough times apparently, ma." He said brightly, sitting beside Mili at the stand with his legs crossed.

"For the last time I'm not your mom-" Mili protested with her eyes narrowed, but the boy just grinned and giggled.

"You're the only one who feeds me so I say that's pretty mother-like." He declared with a shrug, looking at the elf expectantly. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Mili pulled out an apple. His favorite, and she had specially produced one for him. Tossing it over with a sigh, Mili couldn't help but smile a little bit at the boy's delighted reaction.

"Thanks, ma!" He exclaimed, digging his teeth into the fruit immediately.

"Not. Your mom." Mili said stiffly, placing her hand over the boy's head and summoning a small stone to hit him with.

"Owwww," he whined, but Mili was already on the next subject.

"I have another one if you do a favor for me." She said, producing another apple out of her bag. The reaction was immediate. The boy, named Andy, jumped on his feet with his mouth dripping with apple juice. He nodded eagerly, eyeing the fruit intently. "I was told to come to the tavern by some guide, mind checking it out for me?" Mili asked, and Andy immediately scampered off.

Returning to business, Mili made a few more sales. Notably, she didn't have a sales pitch, nor did she need one. Her reputation in Sanctuary meant that people came to her and she only needed to collect the money. A few minutes later Andy reappeared, the previous apple already demolished. "Some nasty necromancer dude, a few other humans. Two elves I think. Somebody just died, beware of the black-haired woman." The boy said promptly. His street smarts were of no match and his eyes were quick. An excellent informant.

"Thanks," Mili said as she handed him the second apple and began to pack up her stall. She had two baskets of berries left so she wasn't going to lose much by closing her business early for the day. Andy watched for a little while before disappearing back into the alleyway. Picking up a long piece of wood off the ground, Mili put it across her shoulders and hung the baskets of berries off each end. Walking towards the tavern, she made it pretty quickly. Using her foot to kick the door open so she could maneuver herself inside with her fruit, Mili located the necromancer Andy had spoken of very easily.

Walking over to the table that it seemed people were assembling by, she eyed the others impassively. "Fruit, anybody?" She asked with a blank tone, deciding she may as well do business while she was here. The fact that there was a dead man and a bunch of screaming people only entertained her attention for a select few seconds. One death, so what. Life went on, for her at least.

 

[Morgrim]

So far four had arrived other than Crow whom he had met earlier, all people he had sent a letters to. The royal frost elf, a giant man bear, a legendary assassin, and a powerful elf that bends nature, and yet they were not all they could be. The frost elf had lived a life sheltered in libraries and fancy buildings under the thumb of his parents, as his true talents and potential had been shackled. The bear of a man, or more accurately the shape shifting man could easily change the tides of any battle. Or make a huge impact in the war, but instead spends his days picking up easy contracts, and drinking away the profits. The legendary wolf elf assassin, or as it stands in the present day the ONCE legendary assassin has less then half her reputation. Once so famous all of Landfall feared her, now she had faded so far in the hearts of others that she could pass by two guards with a simple blind woman act. Lastly the the earth bending elf, once part of a creed, and running her own squad, now she spends her days selling fruits. He was amused though, half of them were straightforward and to the point, the other half trying to be suave and cool, as if Morgrim couldn't see through it.

This is exactly why Morgrim decided to take up the job of being a guide. It was often a thankless task he heard, but he didn't do it for thanks or coin, he did it to continue on the memory of Luna, his childhood friend. She mentored him and made him the best he could be, strong enough to survive the templar's wrath, and strong enough to survive the Eldergloom forest alone. He would do the same for others now, he would make it so each of these people could single-handed change the world, and together could save it. He would need to convince them though, they each had their own routines and formulas for doing things, and it would be up to him to get them all to work together towards a single goal.

Morgrim hears the elf merchants offer to see if anyone would like some fresh fruit, and before another had a chance to buy them he purchases the rest of her stock. He grabs a pouch of gold coins with his right hand jingling with a heavy pile of gold coins inside. He extends the sack of coins to her, and it would be visible to all five of them that his hand had all the flesh removed. Despite the lack of muscle tissue and tendons he could still move it as nimbly as any other part of his body if not more. He then shares the fruit with all of them, even the very grumpy looking assassin.

"I'm sure I have something you would like to hear though elf merchant, why don't you take a seat with us and listen." Morgrim motioned to the seat next to him, and the spots were quickly filling up. When the others arrive he would probably have to get the bear man to pull one of the other tables over next to the one they are sitting at.

"Now not everyone is here right now, but I suppose I should give you the gist of my speech, all of you are different. You are special in someway that had caught my attention and I am interested in you, but not only that. You all are capable, made a living for yourself, and are powerful in your own right, but... You are barely touching anyone else's lives. You could disappear or pass away, and hardly a soul would notice a difference, as it stands you have nothing to lose." Morgrim cleared his throat, and gave a pause realizing that he had basically just insulted all of them. He just said that they were almost worthless, and clearing his throat once more he continued. "However you all have the potential of greatness, and I will not lie I need you."

Morgrim reached into his back pouch and produced a few drawings plus a notice from one of the message boards in the town square earlier that day. It depicted great pillars of fire, and pure raw ether. Creatures dawning robes that cover all of their body weaved together from some clear crystal. Then notices with articles saying things like "THE END TIMES". It may have all sounding very dramatic, but it was all very true. The new enemy being dubbed the Cultists, a seemingly never ending army of people(?) that seek to destroy everything.

"Landfall is in trouble. The war had prevented anyone from raising an army, and the cultists go unchallenged. Maybe you love this world, maybe you hate it, I don't care though because if we don't do something about it everything and everyone will die. We need to work together to raise our own army, and train hard so we are stronger then anyone, so I encourage you to work with me." Morgrim spoke as if he were a motivational speaker from some cheesy movie, trying to get them off their stubborn asses and conquer the greatest threat to ever challenge Landfall. "Are you with me?"

 

[Compass]

Collab between shadowz1995 and Compass

"Through here!! Don't let those little sewer rats get away!!!"

The sound wasn't close. The rugged voice of the knight captain echoing off the walls of the slumbering city. While it wasn't close just yet, it was certainly getting closer.

"Yeesh. Are people in this land always so angry? For a captain, he barely had any money on him." The master thief muttered as he lazily tossed the captain's light coinpurse up in the air and caught it a few times, the few gold coins within jingling sadly against themselves.

He flashed a smirk to his disciple, hard at work just beneath him. She had been trying to pick open the lock for a door for some time now, "This is why I told you to practice, honey. What ever will we do if you can't get this door open on time. My body is far too fragile for prison cells!" He said in a high pitched, sarcastic maiden's voice. His attempt at the country's accent, was equally as bad. Comical considering how his exposed, muscular arm were about as scarred as they were tanned by the desert sun.

"GET THEM!!!!"

"Tick tock beautiful. Tick tock."

Sweat beaded over her fair skin as she twisted and pressed the lockpick. It was growing difficult for her to focus as the pressure increased, and Soma's taunts didn't help. In another situation, she may have been mocking him back, but right now she was focused. "Shut up," she grumbled in frustration, another click finally sounding into her large ears. It wasn't the last one, though and she bit her lip--she could hear them getting closer and it only made the anxiety worse.

Part of Ryan almost wanted to hand the task off to Soma, but she was just a little to proud for that. So instead, she pressed the pick in once more and up-- A final click was heard and she twisted, shoving the door open. She swelled with pride at herself, but they didn't have time to stand around and praise her for it. "Got it, hurry up," she snapped instead, dropping the pick and little wrench into her skirt pocket before running ahead.

Soma chuckled a bit as the rabbit girl burst forth through door, following suit with a leisurely gait. As if he was going on a walk through the forest. "Now now my pupil. I have told you time and time again, no matter what is happening, to keep your composure. Otherwise, you'll make mistakes like busting through a door in the dead of night. People outside will hear that and point the guards in this direction. Not to mention the resi- "

"Sis? What was that noise?"

"Stay here, Zeke. Don't move."

As if right on queue, two voices were heard from up the stairs. Children by the sound of it. A heavy sigh escaped the desert rat's lips as he looked up towards the origin of the voices. As if he could see through the floorboards above. "The residents." Soma finished.

He sighed once more before nodding his head in the direction of the entrance. "Lock the door and keep an eye out. I have to go take care of this now." Keeping the same, casual stride, Soma silently walked up the stairs to the room. The sound of a wicked sharp blade being drawn free from its scabbard cut through the silence of the darkness.

For a moment there was silence..... then a gasp. The start of a scream could be heard before it was cut off prematurely. The sound that followed was two light bodies hitting the floorboards. Soma came back down the steps quickly moments later without a care in the world.

"Alright, so through the backdoor over here and then we can slip out the way we came into this city. Through that weakness in the wall."

Ryan had quickly stopped at the other's leisure behavior, and she scowled at him as he talked. Though at the sounds above, she also stiffened and looked around the home quickly. Her face flushed a slight pink and she lightly patted her hands together, irritated at herself. "I'm sorry, I should've been more quiet," she agreed in a whisper, a little too late for silence. Resigned to simple guard duty, she nodded and lightly stepped to the door to lock it, ears folding back as she peered out the way they had come.

She blinked, however, her sensitive ears hearing her companion unsheathe his blade. Nose and brow wrinkling, she peered toward the stairs as she listened. A half a scream and a body dropping had her heart skip a beat. The second body had it suddenly pounding against her chest. She was still until he appeared at the top of the stairs again, and then she met him at the bottom. "What was that? What did you do?" she asked over his directions, accusation lacing her words.

"Clean up after your mistakes rookie." The man responded with an icy glare, his usually carefree and cheerful demeanor completely vanishing. "Now, lets get moving before you make anymore.'

The beastkin bit her lip, frustration and anger rising from beneath the surface. This was not the time nor place to argue, though, and Soma's sudden change had her frightened. She looked him up and down once, then stepped back to turn to the backdoor. Unlike the two thieves--er, one and a half, maybe--the guards were not light on their feet and she could still hear their steady approach. This time she was careful as she opened the door, leaving like so for Soma before she bounded out, her foot steps light and quick.

She took the front, stopping once to peer around a corner before continuing on. She remembered him mentioning their way into the city, so she turned in that direction, pulling her hood up to hide her obvious ears.

The pair traveled quickly through the alleyways of the city. The beastkin opting for the shadowy streets while Soma preferred the rooftops. They both made their way to to the slums of the kingdom seperately but close enough to assist if needed. At the towering stone wall that marked the border, lay an open aqueduct in which the thieves entered from.


It was now the absolute dead of night. Far past the witching hour and Soma had a fire going. His partner's refusal to eat meat made getting food a bit harsh but luckily with supplies they "found" in town, they were more than able to manage. The desert rat got up to remove the leather cuirass he wore above his enchanted clothing before removing his tunic and red/blue cloth wraps. He gave his messy brown hair a few good shakes before folding his shirt and putting it beside the fire. A makeshift pillow for later.

The thief stretched his tired muscles before taking a seat next in front of the fire, stirring the vegetable and herb stew that he had prepared for them.

The muscled and scarred man looked over at his companion with a semi-curious gaze before outright asking, "You alright?"

Ryan was quiet, hugging her knees to her sheet as she watched the flames. Only her brown eyes moved to his blue ones before she answered. "They hadn't even seen us, you know," she said. She sat up a little straighter and scooted closer to the flames.

"Who? The kids? You're right but they knew we had come through there. When the knights came looking they would have immediately told them what happened and trackes us down. We're thieves Ryan. Not warriors or heroes. Open combat generally doesn't go very well for us. You could have been hurt or killed."

"Regardless, they are sleeping soundly now. At perfect peace."

Soma tasted the stew and decided that it was as good as it was going to get with meat. (Still pretty damn good.) He poured the brew into two ceramic bowls and hands one to the rabbit girl, shifting across the fire to sit beside her. "Think they're dreaming of taming dragons or something?"

She took the bowl, shifting to cross her legs. She was still angry so she set it at her feet. "You're not funny," she said coolly before agreeing, "We're thieves, not murderers. I'm not hurting innocent people--especially after breaking into their home." She wanted to either be right or move on from the topic.

"I know. I don't exactly like taking lives unless absolutely necessary. We are in agreement there beautiful."

She huffed as she picked her bowl back up. "That wasn't necessary. And stop calling me that. My name is Ryan!" she said before taking an angry bite of hot stew. Too hot stew: the woman squeaked as it touched her sensitive tongue and swallowed the pieces whole. Tears came to her eyes as she set it back down to pant, trying to clear the heat from her mouth.

The thief laughed happily before reaching over and patting her shoulder lightly after she comically burned her small pink tongue. He then took a mouthful of his own stew with delight. "You're right. It wasn't necessary to kill them. That's why I didn't. I said they were asleep didn't I?"

Ryan's whining suddenly stopped as she looked at him. He seemed to be telling the truth: she did not recall the scent of blood on her sensitive nose when they were in the house. Relief flooded over her suddenly, but she threw her spoon at her companion. "Why'd you let me think you murdered them!" she snapped, though her words were slurred from her inflamed tongue. She wouldn't be able to taste anything for a week.

He laughed at first, catching the spoon before it struck his square in his bare chest. Soma looked at it with a raised eyebrow before his face slowly turned solemn and serious. His blue eyes shut for a moment and he took a breath before opening them again. "Because you need to realize that every action you take has consequences Ryan. Be they good or bad. Did you think I robbed that Captain on a whim? Or that I chose that house to escape through by chance? Everything that happened tonight, happened because I planned for it to. I spent the day surveying every alley and house for escape routes. That house happened to be a perfect escape route and their parents were out of town. A perfect time to teach you composure."

Soma sighed and looked his partner over for a moment..... " If you don't want to be forced to kill, then make it so it is a last resort. Plan ahead. Survey your mark. Know your surroundings. Above all, remain calm. People die otherwise. Those kids might very well have lost their lives tonight. To some petty thieves or to the enraged guards....."

The master thief offered her a warm smile before continuing on to his meal.

Ryan blinked at him. Her fingers and nose and ears twitched as she listened. He was right and while she felt that she could compose herself as necessary, she had been rash that evening in escaping the guards. "You're right," she agreed quietly as she picked up her bowl. She blew the steam away. She was too stubborn to ask for her spoon back so she carefully sipped from the bowl.

She opened her mouth to say more, but she stilled instead. Her ears pivoted first then she looked over after them. "Someone's coming," she said, squinting against the dark.

The desert foreigner handed his pupil her spoon back casually but his senses were now on high alert. He didn't have her sense of hearing but being a thief came with the benefit of having above average perception. They needed it for the job among other things. "Which way? Don't look. Don't let them know we know."

Ryan blinked back at the fire, slowly taking another bite with her retrieved spoon. "From the south west," she answered as she swallowed her food. "Just one, I think." She licked her lips, only eyes flickering in the direction.

The courier wasn't going for stealth or trying to charge the duo. Ryan glanced to Soma and then to the approaching figure again, setting her bowl down as she waited. Her small gloved hand to reached down to grip her spear simply because it was closer to her than her sword. However when she turned her head on the stranger finally, she didn't sense any hostility in his gait. Slowly, her fingers relaxed and she allowed her stare to rest on him.

The courier seemed weary of the man beside her at the fire but he watched her as he spoke. "Miss Ryanna Maddox?" he inquired.

The beastkin blinked and looked to Soma and then back. Hesitantly, she nodded, still tense save for the slightest twitch of her fingers or toes. And when he reached into his jacket, she again took hold of her weapon only for him to pull out an envelope. He seemed amused by her paranoia, a mocking smile on his lips as he held it out to her--slowly.

Ryan remained unsmiling and did her best not to scowl at him as she took the letter. She watched him turn back toward the city and looked to Soma with a confused expression. Still, she opened the envelope to read the letter within. Her eyes narrowed as she did. "This is fishy," she said, handing the letter to Soma to read.

Soma watched the man go back with a raised eyebrow and met eyes with Ryan in obvious confusion. Even if she was expecting a letter, how did he know to find her in the middle of the woods?

Things got even more confusing when Ryanna handed him the letter. Soma grasped the paper and looked over it blankly. "Yeah. Fishy. How did he find us out here like that? As if he knew...."

Ryan nodded in agreement. "Shall we go? We could use a guide in the city--but the guards might recognize us," she contemplated aloud, picking her bowl up again to finish her meal. "And it's only to me." The unspoken part would be that she didn't want to go alone, and she had grown more curious with each word on the letter.

"Um...yeah. If this person could find us in the middle of the woods, Im sure they could find us anywhere either way. So it would be better to just see what they want. I'll keep you safe." He said with a wink as he downed the rest of his soup in one gulp. They had a busy day ahead it seemed.

2 days later
The pair entered the city as they always do. They spent hours scouting the entire area for escape routes and potential guard choke points. They picked out a few potential marks for the road when they left and eventually headed into to the place Ryan called Sanctuary. Soma eventually realized it was just some tavern with a fancy name but what awaited them inside was rather strange.

"Alright. I'm going to assume its the gathering of people that clearly don't know each other off in the corner. I'll stand by the entrance. Be careful Ryan. I don't want to lose a potential lover when I just got to know her." He teased with a small smile but it didn't reach his eyes. Those icy blues were still watching the group carefully.

Ryan watched the group with her companion. She was nervous, but she was better with people than she was breaking into houses. They looked rather diverse and she could barely recognize another beastkin over the pungent smell of the undead. She felt herself grow unsure all of the sudden due to the strange variety. The woman shifted as Soma spoke, and she glanced to him fleetingly before her eyes immediately found the group again. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at his words.

"Hmph," she hummed, though she did appreciate his vigilance more than ever in that moment. And he only seemed to use her name when he was being serious, so she owed him at least that in return. "I will be. Thanks."

With that, she approached the small group, stopping just an arm's length away. Her powerful ears had caught the last part of the speech as her and Soma arrived, but she hadn't paid much attention. Instead she was trying to figure out where she belonged among this strange group. "Hello, and sorry to interrupt," she greeted suddenly very polite, her eyes running over the papers spread among the table. "I'm Ryan." She was smaller than most of them and it put her on edge, but beyond the surface she seemed rather calm.​

 

[Anaxileah]

​

Scents. All kinds of scents.

The stench of sweat coming from the countless humans in the city, the smell of all types of foods and drinks, ranging from breads to fruits to ales to gins and more. The scents of different types of species also pervaded the elf-reptile's nose, including her own. It was these scents that allowed her to navigate through the city of Sanctuary in search of the tavern mentioned in the letter she had received. The courier knew not of her reptilian heritage, so it was amusing when she lowered her cowl to reveal her entire head and neck to the young lad, baring her scales to the cool air. He flinched in surprise and reached toward her with a trembling hand, unsure of what she was and only meant to deliver a letter to the woman. She chuckled in response and took the letter with a gentle hand, laughing softly as the human male scurried off, smelling of his own urine.

Nonetheless, it wasn't exactly comfortable for Alaria to be present amongst more than just a handful of strangers, all of which were incredibly close to her person, which she did not enjoy. The markets, however, were bright and colorful and full of advertising vendors who were also invading everyone's personal space. The hybrid female held her breath and moved quickly between those wandering in the crowd, determined to reach the tavern known as Ravenscrye before she had a full-blown panic attack amongst all of these people. For all she knew there could be people looking for her, and that only added to her anxious state. When she had reached the gate to the city she knew it would be immense, but she hadn't predicted that there would be this many people in a city so foreign to her.

When the sign for the tavern came into view, Alaria had to hold back a sigh of relief as she rushed to the doors of Ravenscrye, desperate to escape the crushing atmosphere of the markets of Sanctuary. She finally felt like she could breathe, at least for a moment before her nose was overwhelmed by way more smells than she was prepared for. There was beer, sweat, sex, wolf, rotten meat, bear, rabbit, human, elf, and all sorts of other scents that she did not want invading her poor nostrils. The universal expression of disgust alighted the hybrid's face before she shook her head gently and cleared all emotion from her face, allowing her to approach what she presumed to be the table of travelers that she was meant to join.

When she reached the table, another had just arrived and presumably heard the last words spoken by the apparent (and rotten) leader, who finished speaking when she was within earshot and then asked a question she was unsure of how to answer, especially since she missed everything he said before. "Are you with me?" The male appeared to be in his thirties, if not thirty exactly. This man is supposed to be leading this large group of...strangers? Alaria wondered to herself, glancing around at the members currently seated at the table. Each of them were pretty different, bu-

...There were two baskets of berries on the table. One appeared to be demolished by the largest male at the table,
who appeared to be a tad too big for the small chair he was seated upon. He was actively shoving the blueberries into his mouth, some of it smearing on his cheeks as he did so. The green-haired woman could not remove her gaze from the man's face as he guzzled down fruit, quite visibly enjoying himself. At some point, Alaria felt compelled to notify the large man about the fruit on his face, regardless of whether or not he would actually acknowledge her.
She tapped his shoulder lightly with her hand in an attempt to get his attention before speaking.

"Excuse me? You...you have a little something on your..." The female trailed off, pointing towards her cheek with the hand she used to gently prod him for his awareness. Her gaze then flitted towards the male who asked the question beforehand. "Ah...I received one of your letters, yes? My name is Alaria. I am not sure how you reached me, but I do wish to be apart of this fight against the cultists. I have heard of the damage they are causing across Landfall, and the war was horrible before they even involved themselves." The female offered a small smile to the male, nodding respectfully to all who were present before glancing back at the male with berries coating his face, needing to hold back a giggle as he looked at her, his expression slightly dumbfounded.​

Addressed: Alstromeria Morgrim | Mentioned: All present in Ravenscrye | Status: Speaking w/ Riktos & Morg | Mood: Anxious & Amused | Location: Sanctuary Markets -> Ravenscrye Tavern | Inventory: Satchel, bow, armor, arrows x25 (she can easily make more), hunting knife, cloak | Notes: I AM NOT AWAKE RIGHT NOW SO ENJOY THIS, YOU FUCKERS​

 

[Han JiHyo]

BELZE SORROWS

Sweat trickled down his brows and continued its slow trek down his neck, but Belze couldn’t even spare the second to wipe it off with his sleeve, for both his hands were occupied. The unconscious child twitched erratically as he pinned down the boy’s flailing arms, pale blue glow of gathered mana slowly diffusing into the child’s skin. Little by little, the spams stopped, until he moved no more. Belze released the breath he had been holding in relief, glad that the potion was successful in calming the deadly fever and allowing his healing spell to take effect. Laying the small hand gently down on the threadbare blanket, the healer was about to address the boy’s worried mother when a blow landed on his left forearm. Startled more than hurt, he whipped his head around only to see a young girl, the boy’s sister, glaring tearfully at him.

“You kill’d him!” She yelled, rearing her fist back to give him another thump. “Dan’s na’ movin’!”

“Mir! What in the world – ” Tear-stained and cracked as her voice was, the mother still managed to sound both appalled and embarrassed as she started to chastise her daughter.

Catching the next punch before it landed, Belze nudged the girl to her brother side. “He still draws breath child. Your brother is going to be fine. Place your hand over his heart if you don’t believe me.”

Job done, Belze rose to his feet and exited the room, leaving the humans in peace. Careful not to let his talons dig into the wooden floor below, he ventured outside to take a breath of fresh air and wipe his brows. His eyes travelled towards the source of the village’s sickness: the well. It had taken him a couple of days to figure out that the waters was contaminated and another day to produce an antidote to cancel the taint. Three days was a lot of time for more of the village’s occupants to fall ill, and thus Belze had no time to rest. He had got to work immediately after purging the taint in the water, going from house to house, taking priority in those whose symptoms showed first. Fortunately for him, the illness was not one he hasn’t encountered before. Now, with the last victim sleeping peacefully away, he could return to his guild and declare his mission accomplished. The tell-tale tap tap of the Village Head’s wooden leg gave him away before he spoke.

“Ya still ain’t on par with Gran’ Healer Cyran, boyo. He would’ve taken less than a week to get us out of this mess.” The wizened old ex-mercenary rasped. Before Belze could defend himself, the Village Head withdrew a pouch from within the folds of his tunic and tossed it over. “Bah, whatever. Here ya go. Payment for ya services and a lil’ extra for not letting anyone die.”

Deciding to remain silent instead of verbally retaliating for the slight insult, Belze merely gave the elderly a polite incline of his head. Before he could spread his wings, however, a familiar dual-coloured pigeon entered his field of vision. Extending an arm for the avian to land upon, he wandered to the edge of the village just in case there was sensitive information. Taking the sealed letter and note from the pigeon’s leg, Belze scanned through the latter quickly. The note was from Fyre, Sorrows’ mail-handler, citing that the letter in his hand was labelled urgent. Said letter bore the crest of the Guides, causing the Beastkin to wonder what exactly a Guide wanted with someone like him. Reading the letter twice did little to appease his curiosity. Instead, it left him with more questions. The scheduled place of meeting was Ravenscrye Tavern in Sanctuary, today. Belze blinked, then cursed softly. He was going to be so late for it. Although…the name Morgrim was strangely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place a finger on why.

Ah well, no time to waste, on any occasion. He still needed to report back to the guild. Without further ado, Belze took flight, flying as fast as he could back to Sanctuary, messenger pigeon in tow. Helios and Alpha were already well over the horizon by the time he landed before the gate guards. Bearing the enchanted Sorrows’ crest stitched upon his robes and ruffling his wings got him through in record time, partly because the older guards recognised him from the number of trips he made in and out of those gates. There weren’t many avian Beastkin healers around Sanctuary, after all. At least, not many that he was aware of.

First stop, House of Sorrows. Greeting every member that he passed with a smile or a nod, Belze hurried for the Hall of Contracts, the clear clacking of his talons on marble tiles serving to clear a way so he didn’t barrel anyone over in his rush.

“Hey, Willow.” Belze called as soon as he was within earshot of the city elf-maiden. When she looked up from her scribbling into the ever-present record book, he placed both the pouch of coins he received as well as the contract scroll on the nearest available surface, shooting her the most pleading and apologetic look he could master. “Er…urgent business. Ravenscrye, if anyone needs to know. I’ll leave everything here. Sorry. You can yell at me later. Buh-bye!”

With that, he hurried away, wincing as Willow’s annoyed shouting of his name floated through the closed doors. Making one more quick stop to change robes – he didn’t want to stink of sweat and herbs – the owl-man made sure his chakrams were partially hidden under the folds of his wings before downing a small fatigue-restoring potion. It was a pity to be denied his soft bed after a week of hard work, and the potion still tasted as bitter as he remembered, but it would have to do. He doubted he had time to spare for a cat-nap.

In order to conserve energy, Belze settled on walking to the tavern, taking side alleys and small shortcuts along the way. While he rarely frequent taverns due to an aversion to alcohol and drunkards, he had an idea of what to expect. Ravenscrye, while less dingy in appearance than your average tavern, the scents and noise within did not lose out in the slightest. Why would a guide choose a tavern of all places as a meeting point? The possibilities were endless, and the majority of them didn’t exactly make him all that optimistic about the maybe-job-offer. But he was already here anyways. Might as well head on inside and see what all this was about. All he knew was the job involved a growing cult in Landfall. As he approached the doors, a quick sidestep to avoid a puddle of puke had his right wing smack softly on a stranger standing off to the side by the entrance.

“Urk…pardon me, good sir.” Belze apologised quietly, his feathery limbs twitching closer to his back immediately after the accidental contact.

The mismatched group near the back of the tavern drew quite a bit of attention, Belze’s included. Beastkin, elves, humans, even a rotting corpse. That weapons were still sheathed and no broken furnitures were in sight showed that whatever situation he found himself in was a serious one. Serious enough that tolerance had not waned. At least that was what he hoped, and the dead patron who looked like he drowned in his own blood wasn’t a potential team member. Halting a couple of paces from the crowded table, a little behind the female rabbit-kin, Belze scrutinised each being carefully. He was understandably taken aback to see the famous Milicent Amorniel - minus the fruit cart that followed her everywhere - amongst those at the table. What could a Guide supposedly want with a fruit vendor?

“Ah…that’s why the name sounded familiar.” He murmured to himself as his gaze landed on the sole undead. Fisting his right hand below his robes’ crest, Belze gave a formal bow to the Guide he heard snippets about. “Excuse my lateness, Guide Morgrim. My previous job required more time and attention than anticipated. Your letter did not reach my hands until dawn. However, if you are still require a healer for this quest of yours, I would gladly oblige.”

Health: 100%

Mana: 80% => 92%

Location: Risken Village => Sanctuary, Ravenscyre Tavern

Interactions: Morgrim Morgrim , Soma shadowz1995

Mentions: Ryan Compass , Crow Federoff , Milicent Berries , Riktos Alstromeria , Dakul CarpeNoctem1213 , Alaria Anaxileah , anyone else I missed

 

[Berries]

Mildly surprised as the necromancer gave her a heavy bag of cold coins for a mere two baskets of fruit, Mili gladly pulled the baskets off of her improvised carrying pole and slid them across the table to the man. She was not daunted by his fleshless, rotting hand: she had seen it all before. Seeing that the man seemed to have the intent of sharing her fruit with the group, the elf shamelessly took a few of her own product and dropped them into her mouth. Eying the man at his proposal to sit down, she wasn't exactly thrilled to be directed to the seat next to him. Her sense of smell would likely not appreciate this turn of events. Nonetheless, Mili threw one leg over the chair and took a seat. A minor discomfort of her nose might be worth whatever was in store.

She had little idea what this meeting might be about, and wasn't sure what to think of the group that had assembled. On the most part, all the people assembled seemed to be able to take care of themselves, and many seemed to be combat proficient. As a warrior of two hundred years and then some, she was a decent judge of fighting ability. What was this, then, the beginnings of a small army? The thought amused her. If that was the case, it might be useful to join this crew. Her journey to crush the kingdom of the wood elves was still in progress, but as of yet she had no connections nor allies.

At the very least this might be a good chance to network a little bit, she had found that nobody tended to look at a fruit vendor and think that she was on a quest to take on a nation and it's military. Thus resolved, Mili listened to the guide's words. Her positive attitude was soon diminished. Scoffing at the comment that the assembled group had nothing to lose and essentially had no impact on the world, Mili twitched her ears in annoyance. After all, it wasn't her fault that she had been used as a scape goat and had been forcibly exiled from her homelands. Besides, she had a plan for her life, she just didn't have a means to conduct the said plan. After the insult, Mili's ears rapidly began to close to the guide's proposed plan. She had been correct in the fact that he intended to raise an army. That fact was probably what saved her interest, or else she would've walked out on the spot. However, the elf was still skeptical.

"So all that's in it for us is that we get to save the world, and on a lower level save our own lives?" She asked with a yawn. "Unfortunately for you, necromancer, I do not fear death, nor do I feel obligation to help this world," the elf continued flatly, "and so I see little motivation to cooperate." Mili concluded, but pointedly held up the bag of gold he had given her earlier. "Unless, of course, there is perhaps more of where this came from." She said, shaking the bag to hear the clinking of coins. The only thing on par with power was money, and it seemed that perhaps she would find both things in this assembly.

Casting a gaze backwards when even more people arrived, Mili gazed curiously at what appeared to be an owl-man. A doctor apparently. Aside from that, a small girl and another elf had appeared as well. An increasingly large group, seemingly with diverse talents as well. Despite her inclination to walk out after suffering insult, she decided that this may be worth her time, perhaps even without additional cash incentive. Placing her feet on the floor and beginning to scan the area with her sixth sense, Mili's intent was to figure out how many more people they may be expecting. She noticed a man standing by the entrance, but aside from that it was hard to tell anything with all of the feet scrambling around the tavern.

Deactivating the ability quickly to conserve her already somewhat-deplenished mana pool, Mili rolled her neck around, cracking it, but also using the opportunity to take a proper look at the rest of the assembled group.

--

Speaking to: Morgrim Everyone
Mentioned: Han JiHyo Compass / shadowz1995 Anaxileah

 

[JokerValentine]

It was not uncommon for members of the sacred order to receive parchments, but none before had been so personal as the one Thomas had received. It was but a week ago before the current time. Sitting alone in his cell, reading the verse of a long deceased deacon, Thomas found himself at marvel at the history of the natural kingdoms. There were plants mentioned in this verse, sacred ones that had been long disappeared from Alpha and Helios' gaze. But then, a new parchment came across his desk. By the cygnet embedded in the red wax seal, he knew the letter to be from a familiar. Alas, where had they met, perhaps the content may give better answers. Carefully, Thomas opened it and read the message to himself slowly, as if it were some sacred verse to be taken seriously. It was a request for him to be of aid to stop the Cultists, a heathen group that the church certainly had damnation for. But the reason that Thomas took the letter to heart was not simply due to the mission, it was the person who had sent it, or being rather. Morgrim.

He had not heard such a name for a while. It surely must have been close to a year ago that he first encountered this necromancer as Thomas was planting a garden in a small farm village not far from the cloister. As the priest remembers it, he stopped to inquire the necromancer about his trade, taking note of his deathly pale appearance and grey-tone attitude. He perhaps was rather close to being ordained a guide, or had been so for a very small amount of time. The two found quite a bit to talk about, and Thomas revealed more about himself and his beliefs than he probably should have. It didn't impact the necromancer's personalty one bit, alas, it did not make him see the world any more optimistic. But it was enough of an impression to send Thomas a request for aid.

As Thomas had held a high place within the septum, his reasoning was rather persuasive for his departure. He stated that he was needed to give aid to those resisting the advances of those that deny the true divine, and seek to plague the land with false rumors and foul deeds. He was given leave for this mission, and was sent to Sanctuary on the back of a humble hay cart of a poor traveler heading that way. It was not a terrible ride by length, and Thomas could not be so harsh on the disgusting scent and queasy bumps that plagued his journey to the city. It was but nature, alas. As a matter of fact, it gave him some time to reflect on himself, as he usually did with a smile etched onto his face. The bustle of the approaching Sanctuary was anything but.

The guards posted outside the the gate had many questions to ask him and his driver. The farmer, who was kind enough to vouch for Thomas, was but a weary traveler heading away but wiched to spend the night in town. It was unsightly to allow such a wretch into the midst, but enter the priest. The guards were quite literally about to push the farmer away from his stay, but Thomas, hopping down from the plaustrum, spoke. "Brothers," he said with a sweet and elegant priestly voice, "this man has given charity to the church. May it be in the best interest of the divine to show grace to those so kind. Remember your blessings on this land, and the divine may remember your deeds after we die. We are not troublesome, I speak for myself as a man of the cloth and him as a weary traveler."

The oration was enough, but perhaps it was Thomas' smile that did the guards in. As long as they did not have to deal with the priestly kind any longer, they supposed, it would be placating to allow him inside. And so, once more the iron gates to Sanctuary opened, and the duo entered the chaos. Once inside, the priest thanked the farmer for his service in driving him here, and gave him a brief blessing as they separated. From there, Thomas would be on his own to find the promised tavern. The sights and smells of this city disgusted the priest, but he tried to hide it. People threw their rubbish from their windows onto the streets, the very ones kids played in. Guardsmen harassed anyone worthwhile to, usually those who lacked proper clothing and food. It disgusted the priest how much sin existed within the city, but it would be rude of him to ignore his invitation. And so he proceeded.

It was not a brief walk for the priest, who spent his time to wish all a good day and give aid to any he crossed paths with that needed it. But after what seemed too many hours passed, the priest eyed the Ravenscrye, where he had been invited to attend. It was a foul establishment, one of ripe villainy, alcoholism, and other sins too disturbing to name. The priest sighed deeply, uttering a blessing to not be seduced by the evils within, and entered. Almost immediately the famed Morgrim stuck out like a sore thumb within. The carcassed male was instantly recognized by Thomas. With light steps the priest procedeed to him, making no eye contact with anyone but walked straight to Morgrim, a smile still on his face. Then, right by him he stood, saying nothing for a brief moment. Then, as one who wakes up from a nightmare, the priest very suddenly spoke. "I was happy to receive your letter," he said warmlt, "I trust that you have been well in this company."


Interacting with: Morgrim
Location: Ravenscrye
Summary: Thomas leaves the cloister and heads to Sanctuary. He gets past the guards and finds his way to the tavern.

 

[Federoff]

Inventory:
Twin Daggers, Leather Armor, Hat

Locations:
Sanctuary, Tavern

Tags:
Morgrim , CarpeNoctem1213 , Alstromeria , Javax , Berries , Compass , shadowz1995 , Anaxileah , Han JiHyo , JokerValentine

Guide Key:
"Quotes" = Speaking
Italicized = Thoughts
"Italicized Quotes" = Speaking Thoughts connected to emotions
​

I do not eat

One by one they began marching into the tavern, like ants marching towards a pick-nick on a slow summer day. Each were different than the last yet still the same. Some were elves, a lot were elves, some were human, one was a man who was a bear who is a man. They came from different backgrounds of their own, each with different lives separate and alone yet connected and intertwined. Some were from the forest, some were from villages or cities, while others still were from hot and cold. And just like ants they put aside their differences for the same cause, the letters. Each curious and intrigued for their own reasons, some were eager while others were hesitant.

As the door opened and closed brief currents rushed in and cooled the tavern around them, sometimes the air was warm from the fires while other times it was crisp and cool. The air danced and played around the tavern, filling the nooks and crannies that occupied the area. The first to arrive was responsible for the cool and crisp air that danced and dangled around him. He approached Morgrim and introduced himself. Dakul. Elegant and graceful, confident yet hallow. Crisp and cool, in control and fluid. Like a whip of magic. Yearning and learning. "He wanted to have what he already had. He didn't know he had what he wanted" His monologue was humble and soft, gentle yet his words reverberated strongly so all could hear.

Next to arrive was the man who was already here. The man who was sometimes a man and sometimes a bear. He was an old pain that had numbed the senses, he felt like the unfeeling. Loud and boisterous, simple and loyal, raging yet calm. He lifted and rallied the spirits of those around him with joyous movements and words. Even if he did not understand them. Just like Morgrim, the man had two songs to him. One of a man and one of a bear. Unlike his friends, however, they did not clash and clang. They weaved and woven together. Sometimes fighting and sometimes working together. He too came over, introducing himself as Riktos, and joined the group. "He feared the song but he was the song, man that is a bear"

The third to arrive was, again, another one who was already here. Her pain was the loudest and was difficult for her to bear. A pulse of soft magic rippled softly throughout the tavern, it was a wave of energy that ran across the surface of everything, returning to the origin like ripples in a pond bouncing off the edges. Her pain was long and old, some were open while others were hidden. She did not reveal herself to the group, but instead hid in an opposite corner of the tavern. Watching and studying. Roxii. "Disgusting and vile, he reaps what he sowed. Run away and around, can't trust them. Interesting yet distrustful. The Hand remembers a knife slipped to her in the darkness, and wonders why the flower blooms."

The next arrival would be that of another elf, a wood elf that grew and controlled the very earth around her. Simple and pure, caring yet uncaring. An indomitable wave of will that washes away the opposition. "Bruised and brash, like an apple picked and dropped from the tree, waiting to be picked up and carried away. Yearning for change and learning what was denied. It wasn't your fault, you can change" Crow angled his head sideways to look at the new elf offering the group a couple of baskets of fruit., a portion of his face becoming visible to the group and revealing somber and child-like features. His teal eyes glanced softly at the fruit for a few moments before moving up to address the fruit merchant. His gaze was soft and rippled like a calm current carrying a boat, tender and gentle. As Mogrim bought up her offering the young boy smiled at Milicent , "Thank you. I do not eat"

As the next two arrived, arriving as a group, Crow would precede to turn his head to face the wall once again while Morgrim began to speak his speech. His feet continuing to hang lazily and sway back and forth on their own accord. The two felt familiar, he had sensed them briefly here and there around the city as they had walked. Never really paying them much mind as he they didn't feel threatening. In fact he felt sorry for them, two more souls with entire pasts brimming with pain and suffering. Both had two songs but they were one song in two, forming one coherent voice. The girl, Ryan, that approached them and the man, Soma, that stayed afar both felt different, but the same."Masks on Masks for Masks, each different but you. Hidden and hiding of the truth. You say words that hurt, but they aren't real. It means friendship, it makes him proud"

The seventh person to arrive would be another elf, half elf to be more specific, that Morgrim had talked to days before hand. He remembered her, he never revealed himself to her but she felt the same as before. Disgusted and intrigued, showing yet hiding. Hearing the words with her eyes. Tender and loving, mother loves you and will protect you. "I won't let them hurt you, not like they hurt me. You won't have to worry, I won't fail" Crow would once again turn his head to face the group, this time his soft teal gaze focusing on the newest member of their group, Alaria, and smiled "You are back, welcome back"

Next to arrive in the, now filled up, tavern was another beastkin. An owl to be more specific. Belze. He had never seen an owl beastkin before and was quite intrigued with how he looked. Crow's teal eyes shifted over to him and studied him curiously for a brief few moments before turning back around and messing with the gloves on his hands. The beastkin approached them and introduced himself in a polite manner. Polite and humble yet proud and inclined. He felt kind and helpful, similarly to half-elf Alaria, yet was suspicious. Understandable, considering how beastkin were treated in society. Sadly. No one deserved to be treated like a slave. "Kind and gentle, he helps the helpless and the needy. You're safe here, we won't hurt you"

The latest person to arrive, currently at least, would be a priest. A father of the church to be more specific. Thomas. He conducted himself in a casual yet professional manner. Kind and calming, an open heart to all those that accept it. Healer of the needy and servant to the faithful. Stomach full of mantras, he burns like a beacon, Faith a flame to bring succor for a seer. "Belly knotted, the candle burns like the sun. No voice but my own for months. 'Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.' You have nothing to fear, you won't falter"


​

Actions

Monologues everyone

 

[Alstromeria]

Riktos almost lept out of his chair when a woman toting two rather large baskets of berries asked if the company at the table would like some. He was even more happy when Morgrim purchased them for everyone. Given that the vast majority of the table showed no intrest, Riktos helped himself. Largely. Berries, fruits, greens, those were some of his favorite things to eat, moreso than meat sometimes. The bear didn't care, it was food. Food was good. The bear put all things to use.

The rest of Morgrims speech flew over his head, as well as some of the other newcomers. The mountain of a man only stopped when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. "Excuse me?" A light voice said, "You have something on your..." Swallowing a mouthfull of berries and looking up, Riktos came face to face with a rather striking woman, if not for her green hair, for her green eyes. He froze, and it took him about a second and a half to register what she had said. Mirroring the place she was pointing to on her cheek, he wiped his face with the back of his hand. Sure enough, it came away with a bit of a blue stain. As the woman introduced herself as Alaria, Riktos wiped the rest of the residual snack off his face. Embarrassed, he stood, snagging a nearby table with a massive palm and sliding it over effortlessly. He sat back down, pushing the rest of the basket away from him, stealing a glance at Alaria every once in awhile. He tipped the remainder of his tankard down his throat, finishing it in a few swigs. Some might call him barbaric, but one thing was always true: Good food deserves to be eaten, and washed down with a good drink afterwards.

More new arrivals came, so Riktos was glad he'd had the good sense to pull up a second table. The more the merrier, afterall. After the guide had introduced the nature of the mission, it sounded like there would be alot of fighting to be had, althoug Morgrim did not elude to that specific orientation. Riktos was eager for such a mission, but others of the group had more mercenery intentions. "Unfortunately for you, necromancer, I do not fear death, nor do I feel obligation to help this world, and so I see little motivation to cooperate." Mili the fruit vendor said. At this, Riktos let out a hearty laugh. "HAH! My friend, what use do any of us have for gold? Can you eat it? Can you bed down with it for the night?" Riktos himself had no use for gold, afterall, he was a bear on the inside. "What I hear is a man coming to me with promises of blood and honor! On the horizon I see a good fight! What's life without the spirit of high adventure?"

Turning to Morgrim, Riktos spoke. A simple man that knew what he wanted, he had apparently made up his mind. "Yours seems to be a noble cause, my friend. I am with you." With a grin oh his face, he placed his empty tankard on the tray of a passing barmaid. This would be an interesting adventure.

 

[Javax]

Health: 99%

• ⊗
• ⊗
• ⊗
• ⊗

• Tagged: Morgrim | Federoff | CarpeNoctem1213 | Anaxileah | Alstromeria | Berries | Compass | shadowz1995 | Han JiHyo | JokerValentine
  
  Mentioned: Morgrim | Crow | Dakul | Alaria | Riktos | Mili | Ryan | Soma | Belze | Thomas
• Status: Healthy
  
  Location: Sanctuary | Ravenscrye Tavern
• [Outfit]
  
  Equipment:
  ‣ Shadow Bow
  ‣ 28 Arrows
  ‣ Shadow Daggers
  ‣ Longsword | Disguised as a Cane
  
  Miscellaneous: N/A
• Notes:
  N'Til'Nond Edain ➛ Undead Man
  Jaliss ➛ Spirit
  Udun/Udunra ➛ Hell/Hells
  
  [Character Sheet]

It wasn't long after the assassin had sat down that others began to arrive. The fruit vendor she had passed on the way here, some rabbit-hybrid girl—whose companion seemed to be overlooking the situation from across the tavern—, another elf hybrid—one that seemed to mixed with some type of reptile—, an owl-man, and a priest who she could already tell would be irritating. These are the people this N'Til'Nond Edain decided to try to recruit? He must be even more idiotic than the wolf-elf thought.

Before the latter four arrived, the Guide bought the entire baskets of berries off the vendor and shared its contents with those assembled. When Morgrim reached the shadowy rogue, Roxii held up a hand in dismissal. It wasn't a rude gesture, but rather an honest "No thanks". The wolf hybrid had eaten before she had left for the meeting and to complete her mission. Thus, Roxii wasn't too keen on eating anything, especially berries of all things. Now, if the man undead man had offered her a nice slab of juicy ribs, that may've turned out differently.

Morgrim made his way back to his seat and began to speak. It didn't take more than a minute before the Guide said the wrong thing. He paused, glazing over his next words more carefully. As he continued to speak, he procured some papers and laid them out on the table before him. The Guide explained his reasoning as to why he gathered them here: the Cultists.

Roxii had heard of this extremist group that was spreading throughout Landfall. Their cause didn't directly interfere with the elf hybrid's work, but she knew that it would one day. Each day, their "men" would stray closer and closer to her home, making it harder and harder to carry out assassination missions undetected. Not only that, but occasionally they would take out one of her targets. She'd still get paid for the death of the target by the oblivious client, but it definitely stole the thrill of death away from the assassin.

The others began to give their input, most of them feeling some sort of care for the world that they almost immediately joined the rotting man's cause. A couple of them, however, seemed to need more convincing. Roxii agreed with the fruit vendor; the rogue did not fear death or pain, and if nothing other than (maybe) living was the result of joining this Guide's cause, she had no interest in joining. Gold was important in this land, and if you had none you were worthless and could go nowhere in life. People strive on spending and earning gold; saving people's lives—or ending them—is simply a way to circulate it.

It was then that the Jaliss began to speak. He seemed to evaluate everyone present and would then speak his thoughts. He spoke about everyone, revealing their identities through simple words. It was as if he could see right through their bodies straight to their souls. His words were trivial and rhythmic, like a song or poem. They made no sense unless you delved into the words and studied them. And when he spoke of the wolf-elf, Roxii felt uncomfortable. A shiver ran down her spine. She felt as though he violated her, but it wasn't the same feeling. That boy, she thought to herself, is definitely a interesting character.

The Lythari averted her attention back to the situation as hand: whether or not she should join this Guide in his fight against the Cultists. She had no incentive to save this world. For her entire life, she was a slave, a prisoner to this world. It could fall into the fiery depths of Udun and burn for eternity for all she cares. But there was one part of the world, one area of Landfall that she couldn't bear to watch fall into further ruin. She couldn't let–

Roxii turned the thought over in her head a few times. If the Cultists took over, if they threw the entirety of Landfall—the world—into ruin, then that small part of the world she cared for would fall with it, and she would be sent to the darkest depths of the hybrid Udunra to live out her eternity in agony and terror and fear. Death for an elven hybrid always ended in agony. Their soul would be ripped from their body, and there is no chance for them to live out the rest of their immortal days in serenity with the other elves. Instead, they are sent to a shadowy plain called the Hunt, where they are to give in to their beastial self and hunt forever, never to be full again. They will never be satisfied, never be full, never be lively; instead, they are exhausted all the time, forever running and forever searching for something that doesn't exist anymore: peace.

Perhaps...

The hybrid exhaled through her nose and stood up from her lone table. She strode over to the table and stood in speaking distance of the assembled group. Roxii lifted her hands and lightly gripped the edges of her hood and pulled it back, revealing her head. Her locks of night black hair flowed out from beneath her hood in waves, like a rippling pond. Her wolf ears—one of them only half the other's height due to being crudely torn off—swiveled as she continued to survey their surroundings for threats. A black cloth was wrapped around the entirety of her head, concealing her eyes. However, the blindfold didn't conceal the entirety of the burn scars that covered most of her face, nor the scars from multiple battles.

Roxii tilted her head slightly towards the Guide, Morgrim. "I will join you," she said simply, her voice unexpectedly smooth and feminine for someone hardened by countless years of battle, slavery, and heartache. "But not for you."

 

[CarpeNoctem1213]

​

Health: 100%

• ※
• ※
• ※
• ※

• Tags:
  
  Addressed: Morgrim
  
  Mentioned: Anaxileah Javax Berries Compass Han JiHyo JokerValentine Alstromeria ​
• Location:
  
  Ravenscrye Tavern​
  
  Mood:
  
  Excited​
• Inventory:
  
  Staff
  Travelling clothes
  Satchel​
• Notes:
  
  *Earendil: "Half-elves
  **Guina: "Undead"​

The cryomancer didn't wait long before others began to arrive, nearly one after another, each accompanied by mutterings from the strange boy perched on the table. He was surprised by the large number of earendil* entered the tavern. He had seen many that were half-human, but half-beastkin earendil are rare, at least to his people. This would be an interesting chance to get to see more unique perspectives from across Landfall.

The guina** began to speak not long after a few more had arrived, purchasing a few baskets of fruit from the rabbit-woman when she entered. Dakul grabbed a handful of berries and snacked on them during the necromancer's speech to the others. He listened intently, excitement burning quietly behind his icy eyes. He all but snatched up one of the pamphlets depicting one of the Cultists.

He remained silent during the others' contributions and mulled over the sketch. He'd heard tell of the Cultist threat spreading through the land. A few members of the college had attempted to study them, but their strange magic confounded some of the greatest minds the college could offer. It would make his parents proud for him to be one of the people to stop the cultist threat, not to mention give him a chance to increase his magical strength and knowledge at the same time. And given the air put off by the giant bear of a man that had nearly broken the chair he was sitting in just looking at it, he'd have plenty to people to rely on.

"I'm in," he said coolly, looking the necromancer in the eye, his own eyes steady and focused. "I've been looking for an excuse to test out my magic. This could be interesting." He looked sidelong at the group that had accumulated after the speech, including a small wood elf who gave off an air of unease despite her casual attitude, an owl beastkin who introduced himself as a healer--good, they'll likely need one of those--and a priest. They were all certainly a rag-tag bunch. Most of them likely wouldn't get along, but hopefully they could work together to stop the threat--for all their sakes.​

 

[slim]

Dylin Vaer, the Pirate
outfit: same in picture
mentions: Morgrim | Federoff | CarpeNoctem1213 | Anaxileah | Alstromeria | Berries | Compass | shadowz1995 | Han JiHyo | JokerValentine | Javax

The weather was nice enough to coax the woman into a false sense of security. The sound of the port below was familiar and Dylin got lost in it as she leaned on the side of the ship and gazed out. Her familiar, Illo, hovered nearby and Dylin gave him a small scratch on the head.
_
It was Illo who had delivered the message from the guide and didn't even tell her how he acquired it. They had been on a small island replenishing water and other supplies to make it to the mainland and Illo had shown up with it out of the blue. It was best that some things were not explained. Her initial reaction to the message was to set it on fire with a tap of her finger and walk off, and that's what she did until she felt panic and put out the flame that had thankfully only burnt the corner of the paper. Dylin hated being beckoned like a dog but she could hear the urgency in the words. This man, she presumed, wanted help but would these Cultists actually affect her? Ah, she was selfish. It was the normal human response to a problem these days. Still, it was worth thinking over. She supposed if these Cultists started ruining entire cities and such there would be fewer ships sailing due to dwindling supplies...Dylin hated going on land to try to pillage to that would hurt her immensely. She sighed as she thought deeper and finally had her men prepare their journey to Landfall.

_
Dylin told her First Mate, Cathelo, to get all the items of value to merchants and get the stolen loot out quickly before either parties were suspected of anything. She made sure to pocket a generous sum of money for her expenditure through the city and hid her sheathed sword under the generous amount of cloth that made up her dress before heading off. If she was going to stay with this group she'd send Illo off to tell Cathelo he was captain now. She felt a twang of sadness at that. It was going to be weird relinquishing everything she had worked so hard for, and for what? Death or the slim chance of being called a hero? Dylin wasn't as self-absorbed as most people thought, though. She knew these Cultists would ruin lives and it was the better interest to at least try to take a stand. Would it be enough?

Dylin nearly ran into one of the guards as she was lost in her thoughts and was jolted back to reality as a sword was pointed at her.
"What's your business in the Sanctuary?" One of the guards said in a gruff voice. Dylin narrowed her eyes before changing her facial expression to a large smile that made her seem like another feather-brained girl.
"I have traveled a long way to see one of the dressmakers here and I'm so excited to finally make it! I heard of all the amazing designs and I can't wait to see and try them myself. The satin is on top of my list and my mother wants me to get her one as well, but who can blame her? Personally, I think red will look amazing on me but my sister says blue is my best bet. Weird, I kn-" The guards nearly shoved her inside the city with that.
"Ok, you best be getting on with that, miss. Enjoy your stay." Dylin gave them a big wave and smile before entering the city and dropping the cheesy smile and adopting her normal glare. Illo made his way from the folds in her dress and perched on her shoulder. She had told him to hide because of the guards but now, she felt like the citizens of the city had seen much weirder things than a girl with what looked to be a shiny lizard on her shoulder. Someone bumped into her and she whirled around but a note was pushed into her hands. It had her name on the front, but how had..whoever known it was really her? She read the contents and set her course for the tavern.

It wasn't hard to spot the other members of the little assembly. Illo coiled around her wrist like a giant bracelet out of nervousness and Dylin laughed a little at that. She petted his head and walked towards the group. She didn't really need help finding the guide. Not only did her nose pick up his stench but he had an air of dignity. Dylin glanced at the others before approaching him.

"My apologies for arriving late. The sea is unpredictable." Dylin cleared her throat before eyeing the man. "I don't know too much about what's going on but I get the idea. Bad people are out there and you think we can stop them. You're probably promising wealth or notoriety. That's nice and all. I just want to help people and when it's over, leave. Joining this cause will unravel a lot of things I have worked on for years. I'm willing to join if you truly think we can make a difference."

 

[AnimusLight]

It takes a week for Jezebel to arrive on horseback with a rental horse. When the letter arrived at her teacher's shrine, she wondered why on earth anyone would ask for her? She hasn't done anything spectacular in her life other than helping out with the villages nearby the shrine, ranging from taking care of bandits to guiding travelers through forestry. The traveling monk could only think that this man who have sent the letter must have some connection to her house. Could it be possible he knows of her sisters? But the contents of the letter didn't seem to fit well with what she's pursuing. It's worth to check, since the stranger is kind enough to send the letter in the first place. Her teacher has been wanting her to go out and see the world, 'One must see the world to fully understand and tolerate the people from all walks of life.'

Jezebel's travel pack clanks with her water jug and cooking pot. Her hands grasps at the straps that lay on her shoulders. The inside of Sanctuary is a lot huge than she imagined from what her house used to gossip about. The architecture and liveliness of the city can't be compared to the one she once lived in. People hustle past by her, sometimes bumping into her in their hurry. She lost count how many times she muttered a pardon.

"Might I interest you in our delicious meats?" calls out from a food stand. The aroma of perfectly barbecued meat comes from the stand. Jezebel holds the side of her stomach. As much as she appreciates being under her teacher's tutelage and wholly follows his believes, being a monk doesn't make money. She's too nice for her own good, helping others with only asking for food or shelter in return. The only time she's ever gets paid is when some travelers wants spiritual guidance- but sometimes that is all for naught when they find out the 'spiritual guidance' is not about the gods they worship.

Jezebel reaches the Ravenscrye tavern, peering inside through a unclean window. She almost steps in the puke unknowingly and makes her way to the entrance. The inside of the tavern feels chaotic, witnessing the aftermath of people talking about the sudden death of a patron. Her head turns quickly, unsure of where to go- only to spot the massive group of different people gathering around. She slips in with the amount of people, standing around a bit anxious; she did go into the correct tavern? The young monk glances back at the letter she has on her person.

The dead-looking man begins to talk, making some speech about saving the world. Jezebel has been so far out in the boonies to even have heard of such news. But Morgrim is right, she doesn't have anything to loose. Her teacher understands that if she were to not return, her fate has turned a different path that will not intertwine with his. Jezebel could surely see more of the world at the comforts of traveling companions.

A couple of people announce themselves and mention of them being late. The young monk adds in with a smile and wave, "Jezebel Batal is present. Sorry for being late as well. The city is huge! I'll also join your entourage."

Morgrim

 

[MermaidShireen]

Astrain Walker stood to watch the sun rise, signifying yet another new day. She hadn't slept during the night, nor the two nights before, for the bodies of the recently departed were calling too loud for her to even bother trying to sleep. A sickness had lead 4 children and 1 adult to death, in the next over and she could feel that 5 more children and a husband and wife would die before the sickness stopped. Sighing inwardly, Astrain began the long walk to inform their loved ones of their loss.
_________________________________

The gates of the town were closed, with no guards posted outside. Everyone was inside, fighting off the sickness or had already lost that battle. Closed gates weren't a problem for her, and she simply walked through the wood planks. By now, the town knew her and what she was, so it wasn't surprising that the reaction of the first, tired looking woman saw her was to drop her basket of vegetables and cry. She knew Astrain had come for her. Two of her children had died already and she was about to lose two more, leaving only her oldest son alive. The woman started shaking her head, sobbing "no, no, Please, no." So Astrain simply murmured, "The two little ones," before striding away, leaving the woman weeping while she gathered her vegetables once more.

When the next family she had to tell saw her, the father closed the door, trying to guard himself and his wife from the list of the death she carried. Ignoring the door, she walked through the wall to see the mother clutching her three children, as if to keep Astrain from taking them. But she never took them, death did. "The oldest," was all she said before walking back out the last two families. The newlywed, husband and wife that would die silently accepted her news, holding each other for comfort.

"Miss? Miss, you have a letter." A young man called out from behind her, slowly approaching the woman in the white dress that hung loosely off her body. She turned, puzzled, having never received a letter in her entire life. While attempting to say away from her, he reached to give her the letter. She took it without a word, walking out of the town to read it. "Morgrim..." she whispered, faintly remembering her parents saying something about him near the time she ran. How the man even knew about her, or that she was here, Astrain had no idea, but she was having a difficult time caring about that at the moment. Taking a small portion of food for the road, she began her very long journey to Sanctuary. The people she passed on the road only caught a glimpse of a woman in white along side the road before they sped up their pace or pushed their horses to get them away from her.
_____________________________________
The Sanctuary guards blocked her way, ordering her to "Halt!" Astrain of course ignored them and walked through them, she also ignored the looks of fear and outright hatred from the people. She was only here for one reason. That reason was giving a speech when she entered the tavern. Her bare feet silent, Astrain joined the growing number at the table, sitting in a chair as far away from the assassin as she possibly could.
There was so much noise. After the silence of her home, the quiet town had been loud, and this place was a roaring noise of people and one man outside that was going to die soon. She brought her knees up to her chest in silence, hugging them and not speaking until someone spoke to her, deciding that watching the others was a better plan.

Watching: Everyone Morgrim AnimusLight Javax Federoff Alstromeria

 

[Luckz]

Marie Silverton
"MARIE!" a woman shouted at the younger vampire before her as Maria stabbed her thumb once again with the needle and not to mention ruined the stitching on a very expensive piece of fabric. "Tenara, please calm down, it's just a stitch, I'm trying my hardest," Marie was not trying her hardest, her gaze was too busy hanging out the window, wanton for action or something to happen in this dull lesson her brother put her in. It felt like a raindrop, pleasing for release to be scattered onto the world below, for good or for worst.

"Oh come now dear, " her pointed eyes studied her cautiously, her high cheekbones looking like the mountains Marie would see in her dreams as she rode a stallion along the cliffs and edges. "You've been staring out the window all day, not to mention you've been very jumpy," Tenara sighed and placed her needle down and took Marie's out of her hand. "I know you despise this but it's what you brother wants and he's, well him," the two laughed before a small knock on the door sounded out and Marie's light pink eyes pierced the wood in anticipation.

"Ma'am, there's a letter for you," she said with a small smile as she entered, the vampire gave a small smile taking the paper, she was about to ask for a letter opener before Tenara passed her one. Marie opened the bit of excitement she had been wanting all day and soaked in the words on the page. Strange? Someone like her? Did her father arrange this? Maybe it's just for power and money? Perhaps social recognition? The daughter of a Vampire Council attendee smiled, before seeing her father in hall.

"My little angel! This is for you, look after it and be very careful, everything you need is in there," he passed her a black cloak, no crest, no sign of her name and Marie nodded in appreciation, that could be dangerous, he then passed over a pack, stylish, it contained her small dagger, along with it's concealment, small bits of food and drink for her to eat, plenty of money, equally black gloves and enough necessities for her to do her 'job'.

"Oh father! It's wonderful, I must get changed!" Marie headed towards her room after embracing her father in a crushing hug, a dress was aid out for her, cream and simple, smooth silk, easy to move in whilst looking equally gorgeous and it even had delicate trimmings and patterns. Marie placed on a pair of black boots that reached below her knees, attached her knife to the right boot, before sliding on her metal snakes which slithered up by themselves onto her lower arms. She wrapped the cloak around her and placed on the gloves, she left her hair down and free but took material to tie it up with, hanging the black bag over her shoulder she gracefully headed downstairs. Marie waved a few girls and her father off, not caring to find her brother before stepping into the carriage outside her home in the richer parts of the a City.

"And travel I shall,"
-
Marie had walked part of the way, blending into the crowd, Sanctuary was as it's name a suggests and a great place for her father to live they lived in a mansion so to speak, she was rich her father was a Crimson Court member so why not? The girl headed into the Ravenscyre Inn. Marie tightened her black cloak around her, before sending her snake upon the flap of her bag to bite any intruders who dared try to steal a thing. "Mordrim? Morgrim? Mordred? Who am I looking for again?" she moaned before her mind lit up. "I was right the second time," the girl stood, confused before her gaze shifted around the Inn. She felt a wiggle form her back and opened it up to find Violetta. "Oh you cheeky little thing, careful now," the snake hissed before curling itself back in a compartment of her satchel.

-open to anyone!

 

[Morgrim]

Morgrim Hemwick
Mentions: @Everybody Present​

Well the gang was all here, at least all that Morgrim could care to think of. He sent out quite a few letters, but he didn't even expect half the people that did to show up, now he had a decently sized squad of absolute lunatics on his side. These people were all crazy in their own right, the biggest reason of all is to take up a suicide mission against the cultists. The faceless organization had already razed the ground of many cities and towns, and no one has ever been recorded fighting them and lived. They each had some sort of special power, or unique artifact on them that made them a monster to deal with. Relatively the cult was small, but made up for in their lack of numbers with overwhelming power, not to mention the ether gates that let them teleport across the continent. That's why it is a good thing Morgrim had as many people show up that did. If they were lucky maybe they could take out a few, but they needed more than that. They needed an actual army, and powerful artifacts on their side. Hence he had a plan, the first step of many.

Morgrim placed another object on the table, a book of all things. A new leather bound book with a black cover depicting the Silver Palace. Any that have been following the war would know that building belongs to the silver legion, one of the three warring factions. The book was basically published propaganda for the city Ellanor, with a few bits of re-written history. Morgrim planned to show the book as a demonstration to whoever showed up about his plan, before burning it as campfire fuel the following night.

"The plan is simple, we are going to take Ellanor for ourselves." He said it as if it were the most simple thing in the world. "With the resources and the size of the city, we can raise a small army, and provide a safe place to take refuge and recruit more to our cause. The city is under Silver Legion control which means several things. It is heavily fortified and militaristic. There is a large slave labor work force being exploited, and they are well funded."

All of what Morgrim said was true, and he wouldn't be surprised if multiple of his party members have visited there sometime in the past, and thought how awful the place was. After all the Silver Legion, and its cities were only a place loved by the most wealthy or racist humans. Morgrim had never had the pleasure of being there, but he has studied it for his plan of action. All the thoughts of ripping the place from Silver Legion control, and killing the people in charge sends some electric chills up his spine, and the faintest of smiles appearing on his lips.

"Here is what we will have to do to take control of the city. First we will have to take control of the mines just outside the town. The mines are run by the city guards, but they are inhabited by enslaved beastkin. With how disconnected it is from the city this is the lowest profile, and our best first course of action." Morgrim took a quick pause to make sure every one was listening and paying attention, and they were so he continued. "Next we will have to simultaneously take out both the guards in the barracks and on watch during the night before the attack. Once that is done we can usher in the slaves from the mine, and arm them with the equipment from the armory. Then lastly we have to execute the king, and his personal guard Ethiel, a supposed angel."

Morgrim took a pause, and a look of empathy drawn upon his face. He knew that some of the group were not actual fighters, and some might not even have it in them to kill even if the cause is just. The cultist would show no such mercy though, and neither will he. "I know this may not be easy for some of you, but I promise you an innocent person will not come to harm by our hand while on our mission. I know you may not have it in you to take a life, but I will need you to be strong in our journey. You do not have to fight if you can't, but if you are going to follow me you have to be okay with this." He looked over several of the more innocent characters in the group. Morgrim wasn't one to profile people at a glance, but he could think of at least one that may not raise a blade in his name.

"If any of you need any more 'incentive' though-" He said looking at Mili the berry vendor with a glance, and straight face. "Ellanor is one of the wealthiest cities in all of Landfall, and conquering it will mean being rich. Money, power, and a sense of purpose will be your reward for following me. Nothing more and nothing less. You should be satisfied with that. Now I suggest we head out, and all get to know each other on the road, since it will be a long one to travel." He was not lying, the journey to Ellanor alone would be two days, as for the rest of their missions it could take a while. It will be good for him to share that time with the others since he was eager to learn more about all of them.

 

[JokerValentine]

Father Thomas
Interacting with: Morgrim
Open to interact with: Anyone

It was quite easy to tell, perhaps even feel, that the male was instantly noted in his presence. While everyone preferred the revealing clothing, the easy dress for combat, he chose to wore something more proper. While others churned their knives in their pockets, he brushed up on the sacred rituals destined to give thanks to the Divine for their blessings in the day's trek. Thomas surveyed the group, seeing only one or two other humans among the group. Many were creatures he had learned about, studied, but never saw much of. Of special interest was the owl-looking male, a beastkin from perhaps some great distance away. There were not many seen in these places. There were even some villages where the local population were terrified of them, considered them bad luck to be around.

But many of the others in the group, the elves, the necromancer, the cryomancer, the vampire. Alas it was but a fine gathering of many creatures not well known to the common tongue, perhaps some even considered demonic to a sense. But ironically, the priesthood did not consider such creatures unholy. It was not by the soul which defines the character of a creature, but rather its actions. And even through actions, all were redeemable in the eyes of the Divine. And that was exactly as Thomas functioned.

And now a new presence came forth to him, not directly. An obscure being, by the priesthood's standards. A lythari, to his knowledge a lycanthropic elf hybrid, had made its way proudly forth to the group. In a very serious way, this female addressed her adherence to the cause, but not in a "offer of services" way. It seemed personal, as if they had incentive or personal motive to do so. But the mission? what was this quest that Thomas was to embark on? He was curious to know.

Leave that to the necromancer to explain. Thomas' attention returned to Morgrim, his ears listening to her oration. His face suddenly turned downcast at the thought of it all. The suffering, the torture, the murder. Images so disturbing now haunted the priest's mind, thought of the inhabitants being slaughtered. It was not in his right mind to end a life, as wicked as they may be. And Morgrim indeed had a way to bribe them, by promising vast riches and other sinful commodities. it sickened Thomas to his core, to infiltrate a palisade and tear the leaders asunder. He would have no part in that.

But then he looked back at the lythari. The way that her expression carried herself, it seemed as if it were personal. The Divine look upon the sinful with a vengeful yet forgiving gaze. But was it up to a mere mortal to decide the judgment? A group so awful that they enslave the innocent, murder the rebellious, condemn the beastkin, beastkin like the lythari? The priest was torn. He was a man of the cloth, and as much as he had despised the Silver Legion and their Ellanor palisade, was it just to have them die?

"My dear Morgrim," the priest interjected, "I am not sure why I may be of service then. They are but humans too, must you remember. Are we the speakers for the Divine? I am not going to brandish a weapon so that it may end a life." He went silent for a minute, contemplating taking his leave from this scene. But then he remembered that so many now suffered from the oppression of humanity, of the war machine. Was walking away any better? Prayers may be answered, but it was in his hands to liberate those in chains. and because of that thought, he found his leave to be taken too difficult.