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For years the kingdom of Adwored stood tall and mighty amongst its followers. The ever growing kingdom was a beacon for weary travelers and homeless immigrants. No one was was ever turned away instead they were always welcomed into loving arms. No one ever went hungry, or without a roof over their heads. The people that lived there were always looking for some reason to share their goods, their friendship, and even their homes. It was peaceful. Then it all changed. The royal family, a caring and kind king followed by his beautiful wife were struck with tragedy upon the birth of his only son. His wife died in labor leaving the king to care for the child alone. Grief stricken the man turned to mourning the loss of his only love, leaving the child in the care of the house nanny. From that day forward the king ruled with an iron fist, taking away the love and peace he had shown towards his followers. His rein continues to this day even after nearly 30 years. Today though he is showing a bit of kindness in his now dark and gloomy city. A Festival of Life is being held to honor his wife and his now missing son. Tonight a handful of people will be chosen randomly to go and search for the missing prince. May the light guide their path.
Playable Races:
Humans- your typical human
Elves- a magical race of human like people. They tend to have a thinner build then humans and pointy ears. Ever since the queen's death their numbers have diminished mainly due to the increase in demand for eleven slaves though many believe they simply have disappeared back into the forests.
Dwarves- a magical race of subterranean beings. They are stocky and can withstand extreme temperatures better than any other race. Many spend their whole lives inderground though a few venture to the surface to become hired warriors or merchants. The average height for these dwarves is about 3.5-4 feet tall.
Dragonborn: a magical race born from a legend itself. Many stories state that when the first dragon fell in love with a princess the race of Dragonborn came to be. These beings range from 5-8 feet tall and resemble a dragon in a human like shape. They are able to use a breath attack once per day of their attuned element.
Cat-Folk: a race of human like cats. Their bodies are completely covered in hair and their fingers tipped with claws. They tend to keep to themselves in their nomadic clans. Unlike many of the other races they have no magical abilities.
Diggers: a race of human like dogs. They resemble wolves more than dogs and run in packs along the country side. Their howls can be heard in the night, signaling a start of their nightly hunts.
Fairies/Pixies: a pure magic race. These are the smallest of all the races, standing about 5 inches tall. They have insect like wings that allow them to fly, and are the most powerful when it comes to magic. Many individuals that live among humans resemble humans with wings but those that grow up in nature resemble plants or animals.
Ping List:
Hawkeye,
Party Members:
~ Sterling, male rouge ranger, Elven
~ Willow, female mage (healer), Stagman
~ Moon, female mage (necro), Cat-Folk
~ Suha, female knight, human
~ Crow, male knight, human
And so it begins...
*Dexion*
In the corner of the room a weak fire crackled as it ate away at the fuel it was given. Other than that the room was strangely hushed. It was odd that a bar full of this many scoundrels and outlaws would go this long without causing some up stir. But then maybe they were planning to. A low fog of smoke filled the air dimming the already dull light that the fire gave off. Only a few other lanterns hung on the battered walls in a sad attempt to try to ward off the ominous dark that seemed to cloak the room. A chill was in the air, the fireplace even seeming to give off a sort of cold breeze. No one dared move more than to lift their cups or forks to enjoy the small token they had paid for. Their eyes were all on the same sight trying to pick it apart piece by piece in a hope to understand it better. It was rare for an elf to be sitting so comfortably amongst humans at the tavern, this tavern in particular. Even on a slow night one could expect nearly two dozen people to fill the place ranging from slave traders and black market dealers to bandits.One had to be foolish to come here to begin with but an elf? That was suicide. Ever since the war, elves weren't welcomed in most places freely. In fact they were considered a slave race along with the dwarves. Many noble families collected both races to add to their personal collections of servants and slaves. An elf sitting among a band of ruffians was madness.
Their silvery hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, an elegant braid traveling down the side of their head, towards the tie. It was hard to tell the exact gender of the elf from the bulky cloak they wore concealing most of their features save for the silver slave brand that glowed upon their forehead. He was in fact a young male living under the name of Sterling. Out from under the cowl he wore amber eyes flashed, seeming to catch the light even as they were cast in shadow. A tree tattoo started at the bridge of his nose reaching up across his forehead with its bare branches. The roots of the tree covered his chin. Normally an elf wouldn't dare be seen like this; in some places it was outright illegal. For many elves, this wasn't an option. They were enslaved by humans, kept like pets on a leash to be shown off when they weren't doing work for their masters. The elves that were free were seen as nothing more than a means to make quick coin. Far too many elves had been kidnapped in places like this just to be sold back into slavery. What will it be, elf?" The bar keep growled, clearly not happy to have an elf sitting freely about his other guest, damn elf was causing business to slow! Nobody could drink if they were all slack jawed over it! Free or not they should still be in the servants quarters, drinking with similar filth.
Nothing sir, I'm just meeting someone here." The elf answered with a kind smile which only got him spat at by the bar owner. He flinched as the wad of spittle landed close to his eye. So much for being friendly.... Sterling sighed and wiped a hand over his face to remove the spit, momentarily twisting the silver lined tattoo that covered it. Hopefully his contact would get here soon...any longer and the tension in the room would reach a breaking point. Maybe he should have waited outside, this town was known for it rate of disappearances of elves and dwarves alike. It was too late for that now. That was to day wasn't it? The human had said they would meet today before the festival no? Maybe he was mistaken, that would mean all of this was for nothing. Great. Outside the first of the bells began to chime marking only an hour left until the festivities began.
~Willow~
Each step resounded with a soft click as the spotted Stagman made her way happily down the cobblestone road. In the otherwise gloomy and sulking city she looked rather out of place with her cheerful smile and bright colorful dress. The silky fabric danced about her as she skipped forward, the display of feathers decorating her locks of hair bounding out behind her. This granted her looks of confusion from the nearby crowds. She didn't mind though as she continued forward towards the slums. From the outside the tavern looked old and weathered. The roof was sagging inwards, a clear sign that the building hadn't seen the repairs it so desperately needed. "This must be the place!" The fawn like woman said as she stopped skipping. Her short tail flicked behind her as she thought. "I wonder why he chose this of all places? Oh well! I hope the others are here! I can't wait to meet some new friends!" With that she entered the tavern. Instantly her happy attitude disappeared. The smell was awful! It was like a mixture of blood, sweat, and tears if sadness could have a smell. Every head turned to look at her as the door shut noisily behind her. Willow's ears dropped and her hoofed hands clasped together in front of her. "Good afternoon." She said with a forced smile. There were a few grunts in response before most went back to what they had been doing. With a relieved sigh she made her way forward nearly slipping over the straw covered stairs. Her ears drooped more before she made her way forward. As she sat along the bar though she found that the human that had organized this meeting wasn't here just yet. Sighing she leaned over the bar, fiddling with her hair.
-Crow-
It seemed that even the bard of the tavern was readying for a fight, the war song slowly playing through the silent halls in a taunting gesture. The place was more on edge than normal. Normally you could simply provoke a fight by asking someone the wrong question, stealing a drink, or even going as far as to throwing the first punch. But when the mood was this tense, all you had to do was move a tad too fast and you would get a knife in your side. The smell of damp straw and puke hung low in the air from the nights parties the day before. Those dominate among a wide variety of other smells. Honestly, why hadnt someone cleaned that up yet? It's revolting. Crow thought as he wrinkled his nose against the smell. The bar was uninviting, but perhaps that was the point. The door closed quietly behind him as he entered the abode not daring to break the silence. The robed man stood in the door for a moment, the black leather mask hid any of his face that could be seen through his hood. He was known in these parts simply as Crow the man with no face due mainly to the fact that no one had ever seen him unmasked. From the outside the mask looked much like the ones worn by plague doctors, the eyes tinted black to keep his eyes shaded away from view. The hood covered his neck and shoulders in a velvety coat of black, blending in with the jet black robes underneath. A black leather vest covered his torso in a variety of belts and buckles each in turn holding some form of pouch or satchel in place. Two coat tails draped down behind him, the ends frayed and tattered from the cloaks extensive use. To top it all off he wore a hat that resembled a shortened top hat a single gold feather stuck out of the band. The man's heavy footfalls echoed as he weaved his way towards the elf. Eyes followed him the whole while, studying him as he went on. Without a word Crow took a seat next to the elf named Dexion, resting both elbows on the bar while he held his hands clasped together. The room went dead silent nearly everyone watching, waiting for the man to make his move. Suddenly he moved his hand towards his belt causing the people of the room to hold their breath, a few even making a move to stand though with what intention afterwards was unknown. Even Dexion became nervous at the slow gesture. A voice rang out in the room.
"Barkeep. Next rounds on me, for everyone." Crow said through the mask the words slightly muffled as he spoke. Almost instantly the mood in the bar changed, a sigh of disappointment starting up the conversations again. It was as if nothing had happened, the familiar lively chatter filled the halls once more. The guest all knew what was happening, this strange masked man had taken their prize for himself. They had missed their chance at easy money. The pouch of coin clanked as a handful of coins were tossed upon the bar, the bartender happily pocketing the coin.
"Nice call." The elf smiled glancing at the man next to him. For a moment he found himself questioning the mans choice of attire. Is there another illness going around? Was that why the man sought me out? To battle the plague? The elf couldn't help but think this as he was passed a beverage himself. Mead, awful stuff. Tastes like spiced pond water yet still some insisted on drinking enough to get drunk. Shaking his head he passed the tanker down to the next guy sitting along the bar. |
