Dungeon Crawlers thread.

[Admin]

This is the IC for the DnD based roleplay.

Name: Karlaan Dherlaar (Goblin for Rage Fighter)
Race: Goblin
Age: 20
Base Class: Barbarian
Appearance: Karlaan is, in a word, short; even by goblin standards. He barely reaches 3ft tall, which puts him half a head under most goblins. He makes up for his smaller stature by the exhibits of extreme force he makes in battle. Karlaan is not, by any means, extraordinarily muscular. The muscles he used regularly are toned, but not bulging ridiculously like a cliché barbarian nomad. No, Karlaan’s strength comes from within, harnessing a kind of inner magic. Raw energy, if you will. This flows around him to stimulate his muscles and cause them to do the unthinkable. So, despite the feats of power he may perform, Karlaan is not some kind of steroid-filled green midget.
Karlaan, being a goblin, is green. Not the dark, camouflage green of the jungle dwelling creatures; not the bright, fluorescent green of a horrible science experiment gone wrong; but the distinct green only reserved for the humanoid Goblins themselves. That ever so slightly sickly green with a very small pale tinge that can only be described as ‘Goblin Green’.
As far as attire is concerned, Karlaan is not fussy. ‘Whatever fits is worn’ is, and always has been, a large influence on his clothing choices. His usual outfit consists of a short, dirt-brown coat over the top of a darker, stained blood red cloth shirt. Shorts, a similar colour to the coat, are donned over Karlaan’s legs. Numerous small sacks are tied to his back, but all are covered by a large (compared to Karlaan) wooden shield. It is unknown why Karlaan carries this shield. It is never used in combat, as he wields his mighty hammer in two hands. Some believe that not even Karlaan knows why he carries it. When asked about it, he replies with a blank stare and ‘It has it’s uses’.
Personality: From a human’s perspective, Goblins are notoriously vicious, traitorous and bloodthirsty creatures who love none but themselves and are a menace to society. However, from a goblin’s point of view, a human is a merciless predator, killing hundreds of goblins in their lifetimes, causing a drastic drop in population over the last 100 hundred years. Only the greatest goblins are able to topple even the weakest of adventuring parties. These goblins are held in an almost god-like status, immortalised as fighters of legend. Karlaan is one of these fighters. Vicious and brutal in battle, he uses everything he can to gain the advantage. His attacks are unrelenting, and he is fiercely powerful.
However, outside of the fight, the real Karlaan is revealed. Despite what others maybe believe goblins to be, he is more intelligent than you’d think. He isn’t a genius, but he knows enough to contribute. He also isn’t as vicious as cliché goblins. He is by no means gentle, but he isn’t merciless. Only time will show the real Karlaan, as others discover how he acts and lives.
History: Karlaan’s history is filled with violence, terror and anguish. Fortunately, most of it is not his. His story begins at his birth. His goblin tribe raised him from a tender young age for a decade and a half. In that time, he learned basic fighting skills he’d use to protect himself if they ever were attacked. He, along with his 5 brothers and sisters, trained night and day to become battle-worthy. The youngest, and smallest, of the bunch was Karlaan. The runt. This of course meant he had to train the most, push himself the hardest and become the best. He soon outclassed his siblings in raw fighting. He would always come out on top in sparring, but he’d be the most beaten up, usually falling unconscious after the battles. This is because he would never block, absorbing blows as he pushed himself to his limits.
At the young age of 15, he left his family. The warriors of his tribe had taught him everything they could. He travelled around the world for two years, doing mercenary work for whoever would hire him. The problem was, he barely made it through that. No-one would hire a goblin, especially in a largely human-based community. The two years passed and Karlaan was still searching for training. It just so happened that a human warlord by the name of Estiveo MacDreau was passing through the town. He hired Karlaan, because of what he claimed to be ‘pity’. Estiveo had a notorious reputation, but no-one seemed to care about this little goblin.
So he accepted. He had no choice really. Estiveo had hired him under the pre-tense of a paid fighter, but when he arrived, this was not the case. Estiveo clothed him in rags, and brought him out in front of guests. He proclaimed that he had annihilated Karlaan’s tribe, and that he’d captured Karlaan as a slave. Karlaan was a proud goblin, but he knew he couldn’t afford to upset his master. However, one evening, the lie was far too over-exaggerated, and Karlaan snapped. Jumping up to Estiveo’s head, he tore off Estiveo’s left ear and spat it at a guest. There was a short brawl, as all of Estiveo’s guard leapt after Karlaan, but eventually he was captured. The goblin was thrown in an occupied cell, and told he’d be tortured and executed in the morning.
However, this was not the end. Another human occupied the cell as well, a human barbarian by the name of Mikal. This prisoner had been captured when a random group of warriors attacked Estiveo’s manor. Mikal told Karlaan they were his tribe of barbarians, fierce brawlers who attacked Estiveo because of his tyrannical leadership of the surrounding area. They had lost and Mikal had been caught it the retreat. He’d seen the little goblin train outside the cell, and offered him a deal. Needless to say, Karlaan accepted.
So that night, the duo broke out. It was a fierce and brutal battle, but they escaped into the darkness with their lives intact. The pair travelled to the barbarian’s camp, where Karlaan pleaded to be trained in their ways. At first, they declined. It was then, immediately, that Karlaan challenged the leader to single combat. He lost, of course, but the leader saw something in Karlaan, so he allowed the little goblin to join their ranks. For 5 years, he trained, honing his skills and mastering his powers. During this time, the tribe resisted the counter-attacks made by Estiveo.
On Karlaan’s 20th birthday, he announced he was leaving the tribe, to travel the world. The barbarians were sad to see him go, but they understood the runt’s motives. It is now that we find ourselves with Karlaan, 2 months after he left, sitting alone in a quiet tavern corner.
Weaponry and Powers: Karlaan’s favourite weapon is an improvised Warhammer; a large rock fashioned onto the end of a thick tree limb, crudely attached using plates of metal. It is a mystery how Karlaan even wields the massive weapon, which appears to be as big as he is, as expertly as he does. Most who know him attribute it to his training with the nomadic barbarians, assuming they taught him great feats of strength.
The ‘forging’ of the weapon, for lack of a better term, was not as amazing as others proclaim it to be. It was hastily thrown together before a battle. The nomads he grew up with were brutal warriors. One evening, the night before a massive battle, his teacher told him to make himself a weapon. But he was too small to properly forge a metal weapon using the tools he was provided with, which the rest of the tribe found hilarious. So, brimming with anger, he stormed into a nearby forest. Upon finding a quiet secluded clearing, he discovered a giant, ancient oak tree. The tree had long since died, but a long, thick club-shaped branch hung low. Karlaan ripped it down, and examined it. It was a strong wood, meaning it wouldn’t break on contact; however it was light enough to swing easily. A large rock was nearby so Karlaan dragged the objects back to the camp and forced the pair together. Over time, cracks have appeared in the rock, which have been covered by sheets of raw metal, sourced from wherever he could find them.
While the ways of the Barbarian do not teach magic specifically, they teach abilities or skills to be utilised in the heat of battle. Barbarians are taught to enter a rage when they need to hunt or unleash a massive amount of strength. Karlaan chose to train under the Rage Drake, a mystical, fierce creature he observed. When he enters the Rage, his strength increased dynamically.
One thing Karlaan was known for in his tribe was his ferocious spirit. The mighty roar he emits was his powerful symbol of this, an implement to fuel his rage. He utilised this fully in battle, inspiring his team and terrorising his enemies. He reserves the roars for specific moments, like when unleashing a cleaving blow or after quenching his rage with the blood of his enemies. His size maximizes the effectiveness; as such a loud and terrible noise comes out of a being so small.
A raw energy lies deep within Karlaan. He can tap into this energy, causing a massive chain reaction that occurs inside of him. The energy, his form of magic if you will, is utilised as is needed. A spasm of adrenaline will course through his body, increasing his strength threefold. A pulse of energy erupts from his blade as it cleaves a foe, rejuvenating one of Karlaan’s minor cuts or injuries. Raw power is pumped into his arms, allowing him to make a mighty fatal blow. However, this is an incredibly unstable process. Karlaan cannot control it completely and it drains an immense amount of energy from him. Multiple times he’s pushed himself too far, which results in him falling unconscious for days at a time. This puts a great deal of pressure on Karlaan, because he can’t afford to push his small frame so far.

[TheAlmightyGhostPrincess]

Woo.

Edit: here's my sign-up gais.

Name: Xanlamin Hollysharp

Nickname: Xan (He highly detests being called this though)

Age: 25

Gender: Both (He has the mentality of a male though)

Race: Half Lunar, Half Asuta

Base Class: Wizard

Personality: One word to describe Xanlamin is apathetic. He always looks at things in an indifferent way. Xanlamin is cold to basically everything and anything. He never regards anyone as friends and distances himself as much as possible preferring to stay in the world of books rather than deal with other people. Anny relationships he's ever been in was purely physical. He is unable to connect with people on a emotional level and this often brings people to hate him.

Xan always takes things literally and doesn't understand the concept of metaphors so if you say, "I wish i could die" expect Xan to take it literally and he will kill you. he also has no problem killing anyone whether it be one of his traveling companions or an enemy he'll kill anyone who wishes to die. Simple as that.

Being of Lunar descent he has a superiority complex as well. Believing that he is higher than any other races and often looks down on them and like his Lunar ancestors alienated a majority of races and has made him a traveler, often not staying in one place for too long.

The more interesting part of Xan is the fact that he is half-Asuta. Asuta's bloodline consists of Celestial and Fiendish nature so often Xan's morals are ambiguous in nature. No one really knows if he is good or evil and his morals are basically unknown to everyone but him. His morals are quite mysterious he can easily kill someone, have a physical relationship without guilt and other such things but he upholds a Code of Chivalry always being polite to a women and respecting her wishes and is quick to defend a women who is in danger.

Appearance: The first noticeable feature of Xan would be his two gray, red-tipped wing that extend out of his back. When stretched out fully they reach at least 4 feet long. After that one would notice his silver hair that is fairly short aside from a single brain that runs down to his left shoulder. Also quite custom of one too Lunar descent her he has silver eyes which as per mark of the curse has a mark running down his right eye. Clothing wise he wears a long sleeved blue cotton wove shirt, a leather belt that is adorned with different types of magic charms and long white cotton cotton pants with a pair of cotton skin boots. When the full moon comes around and he is transformed in to a female his hair grows considerably longer and Xan puts it back in a brain considering long hair to be a "nuisance" [TBC]

History: Xan was born among the Asuta race. His mother a Celestial Asuta who embraced the Celestial ways of life came across a wounded Lunar one day. How the Lunar managed to stumble upon Asuta land is unknown even to this day but Xan's mother was quick to the injured Lunar. When the Lunar regained consciousness he was quick to distrust Xan's mother and say many spiteful things but Xan's mother just gave him a friendly smile and gave him some food. After much discussing the two had much in common and their friendship quickly turned into a romantic relationship.

This is where the history of Xan starts. Xan's father had to leave because he knew he would never be able to settle down peacefully told Xan's mother that he would leave her with a parting gift. Something a Lunar can only conceive once every century. A child. He cast a magic upon Xan's mother and hence the history of Xan began.

Xan was born in the small hut that their race considered a hospital. He would never know the love of his mother though, as she died while giving birth to him and he was sent to live with her sister who had one child of her own. The couple quickly accepted Xan as their own and quickly came to regard him as their own child. There was something odd about Xan though, he wasn't like other Asuta. He had silver hair with matching silver eyes which was nearly unheard of among the Asuta race. The only thing that mildly resembled anything of the Asuta race was the two gray, red-tipped wings which were common among young Asuta who had not chosen which of their Asuta bloodline they prefer.

Xan grew up with his cousin, taking flying lessons, language lessons, any Asuta lesson you could think of but Xan was quick to condescend from any other race.

This is when his foster parents heard the first of his mother's affair with a Lunar. Ashamed that their sister had cast a half-blood in their presence Xan was cast out of his home village at merely 6 months of age (which would be considered 9 years old in Asuta years) as he quietly walked away from the path of the village he was greeted by a long haired silver man. He gave him a cold look and grabbed his hand and the two began traveling together.

This is when Xan learned how he was to cheat races. He was told that he was of a higher race and taught that he must always remain calm never allowing to let your emotions get the best of you and never follow good or evil but always manage to abide by a lawful nature. Xan always had a curiosity for magic even before he started traveling with his escort. He liked the idea of necromancy the magic that was almost forbidden. So one day he tried using a summoning spell to try his hand at summoning a powerful ghost. The plan backfired. The deity of the dead appeared instead scolding him for trying something so dangerous. As punishment he gave Xan an ultimatum, die or live without emotions until someone breaks the curse. Of course Xanlamin would choose to emotion, of course the Death deity did not say HOW to break the curse. Simply telling Xan that when the curse breaks he would know. This was also the day that he would unwillingly follow the deity Azreal, the god of death.

After that Xan lost all emotion, left to wander the land without any type of emotion. He cared not about the sick or dying, the wounded, a mother who was begging for him to save his child. Such things he did not care about. He still wanders the land today trying to find someway to restore his emotions.


Powers: [TBA]

Weaponry: Xanlamins choice of weaponry is either his bare fists (martial arts) for self-defense or a simple wodden staff with a snake pattern carved into it if he wants to cast magic.

Extra: Due to his Lunar descent Xanlamin changes gender each full moon although he keeps his male mentality and he must have custom fit armor for the two wings on his back. He also has a odd mark that stretches up and down his right eye. This is simply a mark of the curse he was put under.

To be edited later.

[Diεgo]

Name: Gabriel Arcturus de Cervantes
Age: 25
Race: Human. No, wait, dancer ;D
Base Class: Paladin, a holy warrior serving Bahamut.

Appearance: As a paladin, Gabriel has been trained to and must remain at physical and mental peak at all times. His age helps, too. He is of a large body frame, standing at around 6’5 and holding the muscles of 1000 men put together. Gabriel is ripped, you’d have to be blind not to notice that, even under the thick armor he wears. He doesn’t have long legs, so it is his lengthy torso what gives him such an imposing height. Albeit short, his legs are strong and they allow him to run for a long time. His shoulders, back, and chest are massive and sculpted, and they give the perfect ‘V’ shape along with his waist. Combined with chiseled abs and buffed arms, Gabriel has grown to be one of the strongest paladins many have come to known. Even when in a relaxed posture, the man is far more than only intimidating. Various arteries that run through his neck, arms, and hands are visible through his skin. It’s not only show, for Gabriel also has stamina to be jealous of.

On modern days, Gabriel would probably fit best under the race of a teuton. Despite all of his outdoor training and endless trekking, he sports a relatively pale skin tone. Skin forged under daily combat, with bruises and swells and scratches in places people don’t realize they have. Every single one of his scars is a symbol of victory for him, a symbol that proves he’s only becoming stronger. His most notable scar is probably across his chest, at least a foot long. The feel on his skin is rough everywhere except on the palms of his hands, which have the smoothest touch ever. His fingers are crooked, and his fingernails are short but rugged and often dirty, giving him quite the rowdy look.

Gabriel has a manly face. He has a strong chin that gives his head a square bottom, but it is mostly ‘normal’ shaped. He has small facial features, taking by first example his eyes. His eyes are so small it could almost be told that it looks like he’s always squinting, but taking a closer look tells otherwise. Within the almond-shaped frame, he encompasses appealing, grey irises. They are beautiful, bright and piercing. If eyes are the window to the soul, then Gabriel is a lovely, warm, greeting human being. He has a small nose that looks like it was once nice and perky, but now lies flat on the point because of so many smacks to the face. His lips are thin, and although not ravaged, they could be taken more into consideration when it came to taking health of your body. All that sunlight isn’t helping them. Still, after a glass of water or some other liquid, his lips sparkle. Inside his mouth, his teeth are pearl white, but not necessarily the straightest. A dentist wouldn’t put braces on him, but let’s just say that, again, he received a number of point blank blows. He has pointy ears, but nowhere near the standard of an elf or something. He’s got dirty blond hair that is usually kept very short. Hair is always an obstacle in combat. He keeps it cleanly trimmed, slightly shorter on the sides than on the spiky top. Mucho a la military. His hair grows really fast, and if uncut, it’ll grow down to his eyebrows in a sided bang. He’d much rather keep it undersized, though. His sideburns barely reach his cheeks.

Whether it is against his will or not, Gabriel displays a number of tattoos and piercings, most of religious meaning. Let’s go from top to bottom. Behind his left ear, there is a tattoo of some sort of tribal pattern, a vertical curve. It’s relatively inconspicuous unless you actually stare for some seconds. His right earlobe is pierced with an a flat earring made out of pure gold, a noble metal blessed by the gods which most paladins carry. Next tattoo is found on the back of his neck, right under the line of his square-end haircut. This one says “Justice” in some ancient language that has characters compared in shape to modern Hebrew. It looks pretty cool. His last tattoo is by far the most epic one. It starts on the left side of his back, level of the scapula. It is an image of Bahamut, or at least the interpretation of most. It is majestic and meticulously detailed. It’s rather large, too, for it covers at least half of that side of his back, but that’s not it, the tail stretches to the side and twirls twice around his right bicep; having the tip run through the outer side of his forearm and reach the wrist.

Finally, we get to the armor. A paladin is nothing without his weapon and his armor. Now, Gabriel, as previously mentioned, is enormous, but with his armor on, he’s over the top. Gabriel’s chestplate and platelegs are custom made, of course, and they are a work of metallic art. Made from a white metal with a brilliant gloss, the armor is bulky and daunting. His voluminous chest is hugged tightly by the metal, and the joints in his limbs are covered by a piece of fabric that seems to be overlayed by thin, flexible chains. The most amount of jewels and symbols are found in his way notorious spaulders and an underlying gorget. Despite being ample, his armor allows max flexibility. Every single edge and corner is trimmed with pure gold and inscriptions of morals and phrases of a paladin. He wears a leather belt that holds his holster and a number of small pouches. Gabriel opts for not wearing a helmet, he’d much rather the visibility over the protection. He wears dark gloves, also plated at the top and matching boots.

When not in combat and when the armor comes off, Gabriel displays a much more simple attire. A grey shirt that is tight on the deltoids and pecs and some loose, baggy, brown slacks. There, there’s nothing more to say about them. Because he is not often seen without his protection, these pieces of clothe seem like new. He’ll also usually wear the same belt that he sports when carrying the armor, for even though his sword is heavy in the holster, he just won’t go without it. Leather boots and a thick jacket are usually always a must, too.

Personality: Gabriel is a simple fellow. His whole personality can be described in just a couple of words. First and foremost, brave. Gabriel is the bravest person ever, no exaggeration. His courage is so magnificent that it is holding hands with stupidity. The blind faith paladins are instructed with has led him to believe he can do anything, no matter what, with the power of Bahamut. What is that, 10,000 enemies are headed my way and all I’ve got is this salmon to slap ‘em with? Bring it. His valor is often contagious, too, leading to collective stupidity. Still, being so optimistic sometimes pays off. Obviously, Gabriel is a man of faith, and he can spent hours praying before he goes to sleep in order to feel protected.

Gabriel is socially inept, and his only conversation starter tends to be the moment it occurred to him to save someone from danger, which happens pretty often. Once he becomes friends with someone, however, his gargantuan charisma begins to show. More than friendship, he appreciates companionship and teamwork; but that doesn’t mean he won’t bleed his heart out for someone that has earned his trust and respect.

Gabriel has the kindest of hearts, he sincerely wishes the best to everyone in this earth. If he sees a doer of good, he will stand along the person and aid in whatever he or she needs. That’s just his nature. In the same way, if he sees someone being abused, he’s not standing aside with arms crossed. He wants to achieve big things, leading to his ‘never give up’ attitude and persistence. Nah, not persistence; stubbornness is more like it. He is very smart, he knows a lot of things about everything, and he likes to impress others with his knowledge and even be manipulative at times. Aside from that, there are not many negative traits to be said about this gentleman. If he does anything wrong, anyway, the heavens will smite him and he’ll lose his paladin gifts.

History: Cervantes. That’s a name that has transcended among the community of knights and paladins for years. The noble Fernando and his wife Arthea welcomed their second son, Gabriel, to the world under a not so pleasant circumstance. Their first born son, Julian, had been kidnapped and murdered by a group of extremist black magicians. He was only 6. Julian de Cervantes died on the very same day Gabriel Arcturus was born. What a way to remember your birthday, no?

Since that day, Fernando promised not to lead his new son into the path of a paladin. It was too dangerous. Little Gabriel was going to chose the life he wanted, not the one his parents enforced. Sure, it was news around the world of knights. How were the Cervantes giving up? I mean, they had another healthy boy. It could’ve been a girl. Gabriel was carrying the last name to the next generation, but what is this, it wouldn’t represent paladins anymore? This wasn’t okay. The family was frowned upon and exiled from the community of paladins, all while Gabriel was learning how to say “mommy”.

But it wasn’t staying like this! Gabriel grew up, and naturally, he became aware of his families past, and even about his brother’s fate. At age 6, in memory of his brother, Gabriel decided he wanted to be a paladin. His father’s reaction? “No.” An abrupt and concise no. Training to be a paladin wasn’t easy, and being expelled from the community didn’t make it any easier. His parents had laid a curse in him, but that wasn’t going to stop him. Fernando, being one of the greatest paladins of all time, owned several training grounds and equipment. Leave it to Gabriel to find out about them. Every day and night, he’d practice his sword skills against dummies and do pushups until this untrimmed chest bled inside. And it was like that for years, in secret. It was beginning to show, however, when Gabriel began to get overly muscular and he never missed a stab on his dad’s chicken across the long table with a butter knife. Fernando knew that Gabriel wasn’t backing out. Not now. In a desperate move, he thought Gabriel would bring honor back to the family, so he began training him like no one had ever been trained before.

Almost 15 years later, Gabriel now had legendary skills, and he parted from home in order to obtain a name and regain the family’s title. He wasn’t as prepared as most paladins his age were, and other paladins rejected to work with him, but that wasn’t going to stop in. Gabriel was going to do something. He had the basics, he had the power, he had the hope, and he was sure that nothing was going to stop him.

Weaponry&Powers: Like every good Paladin, Gabriel carries a sword, and that sword carries a story. No, it doesn’t have a name or something, but it is deeply linked to him. Meant to be handled with only one arm, the sword’s hilt is marked with the same tribal designs as Gabriel’s ear tattoo. The hilt is made out of (surprise) pure gold and has a sparkly, large emerald on the lower tip. The sword’s blade is white and impeccable, for Gabriel takes a lot of care of it and makes sure it is never rusty or stained. The insides of his holster are wallpapered by wool cloth so that every time he pulls it in and out it receives some cleaning. The sword as a whole is majestic. Gabriel isn’t fond of using a shield, but he can improvise one when needed. Instead, he uses his other toys with his free hand. The holster of the sword is on his left hip, while on the right there are four daggers that double as throwing knives. The four knives, just as gorgeous as the sword, each have a name. Courage, Wisdom , Honor and Grace. Courage has a ruby in the hilt, Wisdom has a sapphire, Honor has a chunk of amethyst and Grace has the prettiest diamond ever. It’s an understatement to say that Gabriel masters the art of throwing knives, but he’s useless with a bow. On a pouch on the back of his belt, he carries various religious objects and ornaments. With those, he can sanctify places or even exorcize. He does what he can.

All of his powers come from divine sources. His favorite ability, simply referred to as “Lay Hands” allow him to heal his wounds or others. He has access to simple spells like “Bless”, which increases the power on allies, removes curses, and makes holy water, “Prayer”, which will enhance his own abilities or protect his body from any magic, and “Daylight”, which lights dark places. He is young, however, and as he trains more and more, he’ll be able to achieve spells like shielding himself or others with the divine force of the gods, force the truth to be told, or simply eliminating evil out of others. His sword is almost always kissed and caressed by Bahamut, giving it more power than the average piece of metal, especially against evil creatures. These are all useful abilities, but as said before, this all has one big downside. If Gabriel is ever to willfully commit evil, all of his abilities will be lost, for the gods will frown upon him.

Other: Gabriel has not the best eyesight, but he's got a smell that even a canine would admire. He is easily attracted to pleasurable scents and can't stand long near some stench. He is also good at playing the lyre and is delighted with the the sound of others playing.

((Here's a basic skeleton, I'll try to get some more details going on later))
[/font]

[TheKitsuneHuntress]

Name: Luezara Amastacia

Race: Elf

Age: 110 ( just became an adult )

Class: Rogue

Looks: Luezara looks as if she were a typical teenager despite being at 110 years old, because she has just reached full adulthood. She is average in height , reaching at about 5'7 and she is very slender, as is the norm for an Elven body. Her hair is long, reaching down past her spine and is styled in a fine braid. Her skin is pale, almost resembling fine porcelain, and that matched with her build makes her look very frail, which she most often proves to not be the case at hand. Luezaras eyes are a bright, clear green that seem almost to be made of crystal, and her face is shaped in an exotic angular way that almost can remind one of a cat. Because of her long, leaf shaped ears are usually exposed, most people instantly know she is of the Elven kind, though her inhuman beauty is also a giveaway that she is anything but simple mortal.


Clothing wise, Luezara seems fond of dressing in clothing that most humans of the time would consider a men's only clothing, such as a tunic and leggings rather than dresses. outfit is made up of a long black tunic which reaches down to her knees, held on by a silver belt with the buckle possessing a silver crescent moon in the center. Her legs are covered with fishnet stockings and wears a pair of black boots. On her hands she wears a pair of black leather fingerless gloves, and over her shoulders, a long flowing black and silver hooded cloak in which she uses to hide her face should the situation call for it. When the occasion is formal she also will sometimes wear a black skirt and matching corset top with silver embroidery over it, but still wears her boots, stockings and cloak with it. The cloak is also held on by a silver crescent moon shaped pin.

Personality: Like a typical Elf, Luezara seems to be rather aloof, but carries herself with elegance and is polite to everyone, even when they don't seem to deserve it. She is fond of all things natural and also has a love of music. When one really gets to know her however, Luezara has shown to have quite the fun-loving side who possesses a great love of song, stories, handsome men, and above all else, drinking. Once she makes a friend, she is quick to defend them and has a loyalty so fierce she would take on a hundred orcs to prove herself.

Luezara, despite being so cheerful and loyal, does have her negative side. One of her unfortunate habits is that when she goes out drinking, she most often tends to leave without paying the bill. Another quirk of hers, and among most elves, is a tendency to speak in riddles when questioned on something. As the saying goes, "Go not to an Elf for advice, for they will answer both yes and no." Another negative personality quirk that Luezara possesses is when she is meditating ( because Elves don't sleep.) She hates being taken out of trance so much she has a tendency to punch anyone who disturbs her. Her final quirk is that she enjoys licking the blood of those she cuts from her blades, making her seem very dark to her opponents.

History: Born and raised as Amanwing in a simple Elven village nestled within a grove of trees which were constantly in bloom, Amanwing lived a simple life. She studied the different languages of the world, being mostly fond of Draconic. Unlike other Elves, she did not take well to archery. Although she is skilled in it, she finds it bothersome and is much more fond of blades, always stating, "A knife never runs out of ammo." Due to the way Elves tend to live, Amanwing was taught to love and value freedom and always be open with ones style of living, which she never held back on.

The happy days of her home would come to an end however, as all things do. A mysterious fire started within the glade and burned everything to ashes. While most of the Elves decided to take the opportunity to travel for a new home, and others to attempt to re-grow the glade, Amanwing was not content with either. Determined to find the cause of this fire, she left her home to avenge those who perished in the fire, Elf, animal and plant alike. She obtained her adult-hood during her travels and chose the adult name Luezara for herself, while tacking on her old family name of Amastacia. With her newfound adulthood and her adult name, she continued to wander in search of what caused that fire, very often getting side-tracked along the way.

Weapons and Powers: She is very fond of twin daggers, but also carries a weighted chain for pulling in enemies so she can get them in to close combat. As an elf, she is immune to magic that may cause her to sleep and has stronger resistance to other magical attacks. Her senses of hearing, smell and sight are stronger than that of a humans, which aids in her skills of tracking.

[Diεgo]

w00t w00t

[AKnightShallCome]

Alright then... lets give this a shot...

Name: Enoch "Lied" Hazakal
Race: Human
Class: Bard
Age: 23
Appearance: By all means, a bard simply CANNOT look bad should he/she/it wish to command the attention of an audience can they? Lied, as he's come to simply call himself, has long, black hair that is usually pulled back into a ponytail with two locks of bangs framing his face. Atop that head rests a simple, black bandanna. Progressing further down this man's face we will come to find ocean blue eyes. Even lower one would happen to discover a very neatly groomed and well-taken care of beard. Not something ridiculous like you would find on those... homely... dwarves or something... but respectably short, something nobility would appreciate. All these handsome features come to decorate what is already a blessedly symmetrical shape.

However, a sphinx could have a well-groomed and blessed head, but a horrific body couldn't it? There would be no need for a traveler to be built like the more "rough and rowdy" sort of fighters. So he's just around 6 ft, give or take and inch, and weighs 160. His skin is a wonderful shade of tan from all the sun he gets constantly wandering and entertaining, of course. As far as dress is concerned, he wears three layers. The first layer is a protective layer of leather armor, a wanderer has to be safe after all! The second is a simple tunic shirt over top to conceal it. Lastly, over top of the tunic is a brown leather vest. On his hands are fingerless gloves. Fingerless, because tunes from a lyre, lute, or anything for that matter simply sound wretched when they aren't caressed by the loving fingers of the player!

To complete it all, he, obviously, has a lower half! He hides it's nakedness with some black slacks and brown riding boots. Around his hips is a belt, fitted to customly wear his rapier (elogant and beautiful sword play for an elogant fighter).


History: Lied was born into a rag-tag gang of misfit gypsies. They constantly wandered around, seeking the kind support of anyone who might be entertained by them. So, from his birth, Lied was immersed and taught all sorts of forms of entertainment. Also, frequent travel would make necessary that the travelers come prepared. By day the male gypsies would teach him artful means of fighting, like fencing, dueling, and hand to hand combat. By night he was taught intellectual pursuits such as reading, writing, music, philosophy, and the mysterious power of bardic magic (as well as a tiny bit of illegal, roguish activities *hush hush*). This pattern of "travel to this town, perform for money, then travel to the next town" went on for a long while, until his later teens. There was nothing permanent in his life and, to this day, he still finds the idea of any permanence or at least, stable, to be a strange sort of thing.

By the time Enoch was an adult, he decided to venture off on his own to try and snuff this burning, painful flame he felt inside... insignificance. After all, when a gypsy dies, who is left to remember them? He decided that he would create his own story. Like all the timeless songs and stories that he was taught as a child, so would he pursue timelessness! The gypsies gave him a horse (whom he loves fiercely), weapons, armor, and what little money they could spare to start him.

So as it was before, he started to wander from town to town, coasting on his looks and charm while looking for the big break that would lead people to remember him long after his journey to Fiddler's Green. He had many fleeting romances, rivalries and friendships throughout his journeys, but none of those things seemed to really satisfy that lust for remembrance and he was compelled to move on. These are the roots of this lowly bard's tale... but surely it wouldn't be it's end. Come hell or high water he wont let it be the end.

Personality: As his history would clearly map, Lied is obsessed with epic things. Tales, deeds, heroism, all of those sorts of things are one of his biggest passions. He will often go out of his way to make other people happy, entertainment being in his blood after all. Overall, Lied tends to have a jovial and optimistic streak even under dire circumstances (those circumstances build heroes!) He has a deep reverence for anything that he can twist to be beautiful... the classic arts, nature, conversations, fine food and drink, even fighting. All of these thoughts can sometimes make him seem to have a distant and dreamy aura about it. As all people though, deep down he has his own demons. Demons embodying insecurities about dying with no legacy, vanity, and a lack of anything actually stable with his life. They sometimes get him down, but sure enough, he always bounces right back with his former optimism.

Weaponry and Powers: Lied travels light as far as material things are concerned. He has concealed leather armor, an ornamental rapier he is fairly certain he stole from somewhere, and some throwing knives he took from his gypsy home (originally used for entertainment) that's about it as far as combat-oriented items are concerned.

His horse is used to a light amount of mounted combat, but he doesn't have it armored or anything. He cares about it too much to burden it with much more than his weight. This leave it with good room for mobility and speed instead of raw power, so his typical strategy would be ride-by attacks.

The handy thing about having Lied to any adventuring party, is that previously alluded to bardic magic. With his tunes, stories, and poems he can weave a sort of... auditory magic. Most all of it however going to inspire and help his allies, or to confound, enrage, or simply charm his enemies. With these magic tricks he picked up from the gypsies and his journies, the roguish life of a vagabond, and the grace of a duelist and entertainer make Lied a rather worthy asset to most any adventuring party. (Assuming he'll be interested enough to stay...)



I hope this is good... let me know if I need to add anything else!

[Diεgo]

a fellow human!

[Admin]

Once Miranda and I have finished our SUs, we'll begin~.

[TheAlmightyGhostPrincess]

I'm going to scrap Resha and make a new character. I've wanted to try rping as a guy for awhile. I've put a lot of plot twists into this character. =P

[Umbreongirl]

I'm sorry that this took a comparably long time Toby, but I promise it wasn't for lack of motivation. Well, mostly.

Name: Seraphina Thorngage

Base Class:Druid

Age: Twenty Five

Race: Halfling

Personality: Quick-witted with a sharp tongue to boot, Seraphina has a knack for getting off on the wrong foot with people. She has an insatiable mischievous streak, and so with glee does she enjoy exaggerating the truth to cause conflict among other members of the group, including herself. While Seraphina's superb intelligence can be a rather handy ally in a situation involving critical and quick thinking, it can also prove as a handicap and an excess for her, leading her to become easily bored from lack of activity or a particularly plain bout of conversation, sometimes invoking her to do something rash to thicken the plot. When first meeting the acquaintance of Seraphina, she is supernaturally quaint and cordial, proving to be the polar opposite of most people's general assumptions of her kind. Once the relationship has reached a friendly level of intimacy, however, Seraphina manages to turn the tables and her knack for picking playful fights and goading people into a rage emerges. In essence, Seraphina is as fickle and unpredictable as the tide, though once a person has really made an unshakable impression on her; she gradually becomes more and more loyal, until ultimately she is reluctant to leave the side of said person. When becoming attached, Seraphina will initially attempt to shake off the attachment, for fear of the attachment becoming a burden, or self-endangerment. However, if one is persistent with Seraphina, and does eventually manage to break through to her, they will find that they have made an eternal companion.

Appearance: A slight and notoriously small character, Seraphina is definitely not the character to strike fear into the hearts of millions. Standing at approximately three feet tall, people are more likely to be wary of Krueger than they are to be of Seraphina. Despite having the disadvantage of being obviously vertically challenged, Seraphina is also incredibly slender. As strength will obviously never grow to be Seraphina’s forte, she instead focuses on her magic, and similarly relies on Krueger for protection. Perhaps the most distinguishing feature of Seraphina is her long Platinum hair; when unhindered, it cascades freely down to her waist. Unless washing it however, Seraphina will keep it neatly tied back into a long, single thick braid. Her eyes are twin emerald entities, set a smidge too close together, and large to boot. They take up a bit more of her face than is normal, and due to their unsightly size, perpetually seem to be staring keenly at whatever she might be looking at. Her lips in comparison are compacted into a pretty rose-colored little pucker. Her teeth are rather small, and sharp, and so a genuine smile evoked from Seraphina could be described as a tad unsettling...

Outfit: http://www.freakygaming.com/gallery/game_art/guild_wars/exotic_female_ranger.jpg
Okay, this is going to get pretty complex, so I’m just going to break this thing down.
Under Armor: Two greenish-gold leather shoulder pads, trimmed in darker traditional brown leather. Here, at the trim, the leather is studded all the way around. These shoulder pads are tucked against the hollow of her throat, and end just a few inches above her breast. They come out over her shoulders to drop and form a kind of short sleeve.

Outfit: Running overtop the shoulder armor are two thin dark leather straps, studded in the same fashion as the shoulder pads, which connect to a sort of low-cut cropped dark leather tank top, exposing just the tops of Seraphina’s breasts, and then continuing down her abdomen to her torso, where the bottom half of the outfit is separated by a belt, also of leather (surprise, surprise), but leather that is instead a forest green. The bottom half appears as a sort of skirt, a skirt that is comprised of individual strips falling mid-thigh. This leather also contains studs in double rows along each strip.

Accessories: A cowhide canteen dangles from Seraphina’s belt, as does a sack in which Seraphina collects various species of flower to serve for different purposes. It might also be noted that Seraphina wears a pair of striped forest green and leaf green leggings, tucked within brown knee-high leather boots. A crudely made homemade backpack rests on one shoulder, containing what food and money Seraphina’s family could spare, and the bountiful food that she and Krueger rustled up before embarking. She carries the Short bow across her back, and the quiver attaches to her belt.

History: Discovered under extremely mysterious circumstances in a pretty much uninhabitable forest, it was estimated by the Orc who discovered Seraphina that she had simply been wrapped into a shoddy blanket, and simply left as food for the wolves. The half pound baby girl was small and unsightly, a sore spectacle to behold, even for a Halfling, and appeared as if she would expire before the sun even set. The Orc, bearing strong maternal instincts as she had quite recently bore a child of her own, a half-Orc, picked the child up without a second thought, and elected to give her a fighting chance. She didn’t expect much from what appeared to be such a hopeless case, but to everyone’s surprise, alongside Gor, her half-Orc brother, Seraphina made it to adulthood. Bearing her fair share of bruises and broken bones, Seraphina thinks nothing of facing up to much bigger beings. Her whole life, she had expressed a desire to travel, to see other lands, to socialize with more than just her parents and her brother, she had dreamed to one day gaze upon a dragon, to meet newer and fiercer beasts, of which she had always had a keen fascination.

Quite fitting then that Seraphina would become a Druid. The decision was no sudden epiphany, but rather settled in on her, growing on her slowly as Seraphina’s secluded and peaceful little life tucked away from civilization, nestled into the cool lap of Obad-Hai, God of nature, prompted her to begin learning the patient, quiet art of divine magic. It took many a year of meditating in the forest for Seraphina to eventually merge and become one with the forest’s spirit. At first, she was taught to be neither seen nor heard by the wildlife of the forest, and then, as the creatures grew less wary and more familiar with the presence of Seraphina and her quiet observations, as their memories began to fade of the time that she wasn’t present, and new generations of beasts were born and were reared around her, Seraphina was welcomed into the all-encompassing force of nature, guided into Obad-Hai, in which she swore her dedication, and her preservation of him and all that he reigned over, in exchange for certain abilities that would help her protect the forces of nature and all who stood for it. Though her parents had informed her that throwing knives were customary and traditional for Halflings, and insisted that she explore those options a bit more before deciding so impulsively, but Seraphina had already swore on her life that she would never wield a blade, however interested she might’ve been in the art of knife play and its effectiveness for somebody as meager as her, and so with the blessing of Obad-Hai, and the gentle encouragement of the very forest she had been sacrificed to, Seraphina carved her weapon, a lightweight short bow outfitted with soft, white leather, first to prevent the chaffing of her hands, and second, to naturalize it, to emulate the scent and feel of the creatures she treasured so dearly. Bird’s feathers that she has collected here and there adorn the tail of the handmade arrows, and these feathers are of a nice variety, as they were not extracted from birds Seraphina had hunted, rather, she had collected them from the forest floor here and there, as well as accepting them as gifts from rare birds who had appreciated the serene and unobtrusive nature of the girl, having sworn that they were enchanted, and that strong magic accompanied the presence of those feathers.

No abilities were automatically granted to Seraphina. It was through extreme diligence, patience, and trial and error that she began testing the limits of the divine powers Obad-Hai had entrusted her with. There wasn’t any given moment where Seraphina found that she could fluently communicate with a species of animal, for example. Rather than automatically implant that language into Seraphina’s head, she was able to pick up on phrases and memorize them much faster than the average person at first. As time went on, and Seraphina found that there were only tiny variances in animal tongues, she effectively mastered the majority of animal communications. This enabled her to persuade Krueger to come along with her, more for the company than for the protection, but that also comes in handy… Another ability she possesses is Wild Empathy, the ability to effectively soothe the mood of an unfriendly or enraged creature, though this won’t always work if the creature is too powerful. Seraphina was also fortunate to be able to traverse at a rapid pace through various forest obstacles, briars and overgrown areas without taking any damage. She has only now just begun the pursuit of communicating with plant life, and as this is much more difficult, due to the subtle whispering that is the language of most flora, Seraphina hardly knows praise from insult at this point, and though she will listen intently, is rarely let in on their goings on. Despite her deliberate exclusion, one of Seraphina’s favorite pursuits is aiding plants in need. Whether by natural disaster or hand of man, Seraphina can contribute small amounts of energy to aid in the growth of weak or dying plants. Though it isn’t very much at the moment, Seraphina continues on with this work cheerfully and persistently, hoping that her efforts will eventually benefit her.

Seraphina left home when she felt, through bidding of Obad-Hai that her calling rested elsewhere, that in lands farther away she was needed, that plants and animals alike begged for her to fight in their crusade. She left without expecting her parents to understand the bond between her and her God, but the thought never occurred to her that they would let her go without a fight. From a distance, Gor follows Seraphina, watching her intently, for things to go awry and for his chance to bring her back home.


Extra: An extraordinarily large, snow white rat named Krueger who delights in frequenting the dark dungeon floors for treasure and other valuables. He is too large for Seraphina to lift comfortably, and she cannot carry him in the least, and in fact oftentimes depends on Krueger to alleviate her and carry her.

[Cirrus]

I would like to join.

It's related to D&D, after all...

Posting skeleton, I'll flesh this out later.

Name: Coruhir Undoren
Race: Star Elf
Gender: Male
Age: 141
Build: Binder 10/Scion of Dantalion 5/Knight of the Sacred Seal 5
Secondary Gestalt: Half-Nymph LA+2/Half-Fey LA+2/Fire-Souled LA+1/Bloodline (Djinni) 3/Legacy Champion 9/Uncanny Trickster 3
Templates: Half-Nymph, Half-Fey, Fire-Souled

Background:

Insert block of text here.

Appearance:


Insert block of text here.

Personality:

I would typically not write a personality, because it's really hard to describe a personality in its fullest extent... but I guess I'll write one.

Extras:

Insert minor block of text here.

[Admin]

EDIT: Hurr durr durr, I didn't actually make a starting thread . I'll post one up very soon.

Opening Post: A fated meeting...
The characters are all located in the 'White Lagoon Tavern', looking for an adventuring party. Communicate with the other characters and introduce yourself.

OOC: I'll add more tomorrow, I'm tired >.<. And Cirrus, when you've finished, you can join in provided you fix the things I asked Tiff to ask you to fix .

[Diεgo]

((I'm out for the weekend, so I wanted to get something done before that. Because time of the day, weather, and details of the place are unknown, I tried to refer to them as least as I could in my post. This post is useless and takes me nowhere, but I thought there wasn't much I could do anyway.))

“This is disgusting.”

A tavern was one of the most lowly and sinful places on this land. There was no other place, aside from a black mass or such, that Gabriel hate to be in the most. The ambient was mostly calm; it was just people and magical creatures drinking their pains and worries out, destroying their bodies with alcohol. It was a truly sickening sight, how grown men passed out flat on their faces while drooling and breaking a glass bottle on the way. They could be out doing something productive, but no; you find them here. Gabriel had been tempted to drink sometimes, but Bahamut wouldn’t allow that. Any form of self destruction was immensely frowned upon by the heavenly dragon.

Gabriel was sitting in the bar’s counter between two completely hammered fellows who were just rambling, hiccupping and crying. The stool he sat upon was too little for the massive warrior, and the little cup of juice in front appeared toyish in his enormous gauntlets. He took a sip of the drink every now and then and locked his mind away from his body, somewhere other than this stinky building. What was he doing there, anyway? The tavern near White Lagoon wasn’t really a sanctified place or somewhere where heroic missions could begin, it was just some hellhole.

Truth was Gabriel hadn’t come in contact with the civilization for 3 days now. He had just been wandering around aimlessly, meditating and praying. He hadn’t eaten anything that wasn’t a cooked rabbit or river water, so he decided to stop there for a little while, even if it was against his morals. The bartender, a deformed dwarf, mocked him when he only ordered some natural peach juice, and many other creatures threatened to beat him up for being a sissy, but he stood by his ways. The teasers were probably neck deep in alcohol, for they were small critters that in no possible way could even take on Gabriel, even if they all piled up on him. You could say the paladin was having compassion for them.

Another sip went in, this time followed by a small fistful of assorted, salted nuts. For such a cheap place, these little snacks were actually pretty good. As Gabriel found himself lost in thought, he noticed others presences were beginning to seat next to the men beside him; but before he could examine anyone, he felt something. His hand wasn’t grabbing food now, instead, he was grabbing this other guy’s hand. It looked like one of the passed out fellers reached out for a bite, and tranced Gabriel hadn’t noticed that.

“You got a problem, pretty boy?”

The man’s deep voice barely managed to reach Gabriel’s ears, who quickly removed pulled his hand away and muttered a “sorry”.

The man, apparently not accepting his apology, took a small amount of nuts and threw them at his mouth, but after that, he flipped the plate and dropped the content on the other side of the counter. He laughed mischievously before looking back at Gabriel and smirking. His face was red and it had marks that clearly revealed his head had been pressed against his long sleeve for just a tad bit too long. The paladin remained calm and quiet… and hungry. But there wasn’t much that he could do; starting a scene there was really not an option. He’d leave in some minutes; anyway, he only wanted his tired feet and legs to take a break for a while.

“That’s some pretty knives you got down there, kiddo.”

Gabriel turned to his other side to see that the other man was eyeing his daggers with a sparkle of lust on his irises.

“That diamond right there, boy, it would probably feed me turkey and wine for a year. How about we make a deal, so—…”

The man, who was just as drunk as the first one, had proceeded to take his hand to Gabriel’s Grace, slowly caressing the gemstone on its hilt. Gabriel grabbed the guy by the wrist and threw the man’s hand away, staring at him with an angry expression in his face. Gabriel was very cautious when it came to respecting each other’s personal space, so having the man’s limb not only close to him, but grabbing one of his weapons, made him unexplainably uneasy. From his vexed lips, words managed to come out.

“Don’t touch me, and go away.”

“Listen, punk, we can do this the easy way, or..,” before continuing, the tipsy fellow pulled his robe back to reveal a dagger of his own, supposedly threatening Gabriel. Instead of frightening him, however, the paladin felt amused. Gabriel ate boars bigger than that guy for breakfast, and his alcohol concentration was so high that he probably wasn’t going to be able to stand. Luckily, the bartending dwarf caught a glimpse of the situation and threw a drink at the man.

“No way, jerk! This isn’t an arena, get out of here! Glar!”

A 10 feet tall stone golem appeared from the tavern’s storage room, blindly following the dwarf’s order and taking the perpetrator within its huge arms. The man didn’t even try to fight back, the strength of such creature was clearly unmatched. The golem carried the man across the bar and literally tossed him outside. The seat on his left was now clear, and the one on the right had a now passed out man. Gabriel sighed as he took another sip of his drink. He looked around at all the damned souls and realized he wasn’t that much different. He was lost and without direction at the time, it had been at least a month since his last holy mission. Bahamut hadn’t ordered him to do anything else, no one seemed to need help; and he actually hadn’t done much to look around for someone. He turned around once more and saw a whole bunch of different creatures walk in through the door, and he wondered what they were doing with their life. The juice was victim of one last sip before the dwarf took it away and Gabriel was left awkwardly alone.

“There’s got to be an inn or something around here. I’ll just…” he muttered to himself in between deep breaths, “wait for some minutes, and then I’ll leave.

[AKnightShallCome]

As Lied traveled, he closed his eyes and sang a sweet song. Of course, he wasn't a fool so he wouldn't keep them closed for long. He sang softly, sweetly, letting his beloved horse Melodie guide the way. He had no destination in mind anyway, so why not let her be happy and go where she pleases? However, interrupting his sweet tune was the grotesque sound of an unfed stomach. He held his dear gut and frowned deeply, "Melodie... you're such a lucky creature! If I could sustain myself on grazing I would... bah!"

He looked up and, lo and behold, salvation! There was a town not too far from here! He looked down excitedly at Melodie and petted her mane. He said jubilantly, "Melodie! Carry me to yonder settlement and I will be eternally thankful! I will let you go graze for as long as you like!" Melodie seemed to approve and started trotting her way toward the town.

On the outskirts he hopped off her and pet her long mane. "Thank you Melodie... you know to come whenever I blow the whistle, right?" He took a small whistle out of his pocket and held it up, just to illustrate what he was saying. A grin made its way onto his face when Melodie seemed to give him a look of, 'yeah yeah, I know, just go on in and do whatever it is you do in these places'. He patted her side again and turned to go into the town.

As he strolled, he noticed the place seemed like any other place. There was it's share of bums as well as people who looked more than well to do. Children ran about playing up and down the market place, much to the dismay of exasperated mothers. His scanning eyes happen to also notice the sign of the "White Lagoon" tavern. Just as he happened to chance a look, he noticed a big stone golem toss a gentleman out. By the looks of him... there was very little gentle in this man. Lied walked over to him and squatted down next to him. He immediately grimaced at the strong smell of liquor coming off of him. He put a hand on him and said, "Are you alright?" feigning concern long enough to pick his pocket for a bit of money. The man barely responded with something so slurred, that even someone with great hearing like Lied couldn't make it out.

His less than legal act done (very few coins, so he left them), he patted the man and said, "Good luck to ya stranger..." and entered the establishment. He looked over the place, it looked just like any other tavern he's been to besides that giant of a man at the bar. He felt disappointment well up inside of him upon seeing no great adventures coming out of this stay either. However... he still needed money... perhaps these people would like a song for some dough?

He quietly made his way over to a table, feeling eyes watching him since he was, quite obviously, too caring about his looks to fit in with a crowd like this. Upon arrival, he stood upon it and cleared his throat, "Ladies..." He quickly noticed a lack therein and corrected, "Err... just gentlemen! Hows about a show on this fine day to go along with your drinks?" He got a few replies of encouragement and a mean scowl from the dwarf tender.

Turning his lute around from his back to his hands, he dropped down and sat on his table, he started to play. His fingers moved gracefully along the neck, like an angel caressing a child. This union of man and instrument produced a noise so sweet, that even the most aloof ears in the little bar turned their attention to him. Those with heightened senses, could even FEEL the magic potential itching to be released. But, since Lied wasn't entirely corrupt, he suppressed his charms to legitimately make money.

These were the words he sang:



" I never yield to tears,
I'm not the one who breaks with the first scream,
Time has made my skin thick,
I'm the one who laughs at himself.

I like all things big,
I find quiet only in the women's lap
I've been not the best son,
I'm the one with impudent nature

I am me,
I won't be anybody else
Look at my face,
Then you will know me

I'm only a minstrel,
Minstrel,
A leaf in the wind
I let myself be driven,
The songs remain,
A minstrel


I'm not the one who yields to cowardice,
The one who puts up the tent at the sight of first snow;
The stars have guided my way,
I'm the one infected with wander lust

I like life's most amusing tricks,
I love when the sea kisses me,
I'm the one who has abused,
I remain the old child

I am me..
I am only a minstrel..


Minstrel, Minstrel
A leaf in the wind,
I remain a fool,
One of the unfortunate of us
A minstrel"

The crowd began to cheer after his deep song. He looked to the floor for a moment, the song always made him feel... sad. He wrote it about himself, how he felt about himself and his life. But, quickly, he had become adept at not letting his emotions show, so nobody would really know how it made him felt. He bowed before his audience and said, "If you liked my simple song, please, feel free to show your hospitality with some coins!" To which, they gave him a decent amount.

[TheAlmightyGhostPrincess]

What is emotion? Is it something to be treasured? To be loved? Does it give a being humanity? If this is so then I am without humanity. I live amongst the lowest of the low. Not feeling...not caring. Would it have been better if I had just let myself die? These words whispered by a mysterious person standing under a full moon. A person cursed to live yet not to live. A person who ponders if death could have been more peaceful than this.

----

"Some help this turned out to be. Note to self: don't listen to an orc next time. Their intelligence is rather sub-par." A man muttered to himself as he sat along the wall of a tavern. He had asked a local orc for a place where he could get information. By information he meant 'booze'. No matter, the place served some lovely red wine. Xan rarely drank anything but considering he was here a simple glass of red wine couldn't hurt.

The place itself wasn't that bad. It might have even been respectable if it was not for some of the idiots here looking to get drunk. Xan hadn't been here five minutes and someone had already tried to rob someone of a sword of some sort. Xan took another sip of the red wine and merely watched as the paladin was forcibly shoved against a wall and threatened to give him the hilt of his dagger or something along those lines. The man who was threatening him had been forcibly thrown out though to avoid any further trouble.

At some point a bard had come in to sing for money, "Ladies..." He quickly noticed a lack therein and corrected, "Err... just gentlemen! Hows about a show on this fine day to go along with your drinks?" He got a few replies of encouragement and a mean scowl from the dwarf tender.

"So many weirdo's in places like these." Xan commented as he listened to the bard sing and everyone giving him money for it, "Wasting money on such petty things." Xan sipped his red wine again.

"If you liked my simple song, please, feel free to show your hospitality with some coins!" To which, they gave him a decent amount. Xan wasn't willing to pay for anything that he couldn't use. A simple song? Who pays to be sang to? People who can afford to waste money.

"Hey buddy!" A husky voice called out to him. Xan wasn't even phased by the anger in the man's voice. He just kept sipping his red win, "Don't ignore us damn it!" The voice grew even louder.

"I'm not ignoring you, I'm just choosing not to acknowledge you." Xan commented and then smirked.

"Don't be a smartass." The man said and was getting ridiculously close to him to try and intimidate him.

"Oi boss, he's an Asute. Look at them wings, could fetch a pretty price for em on the market." One of the man's cronies said. Perked by the interest of Asute wings Xan was picked up by the collar and slammed against the wall. Even then Xan didn't flinch.

"I suggest you let me go unless you want to die." Xan said. The man only chuckled at the threat.

"You're in no position to even draw a weapon, me on the other hand..." The man was cut off by some random drunk elf girl who had staggered over and tackled him to the floor and swore at him in elvish.

"Bitch.." The man cursed at her. Her only response was to pick him up and throw him through the wooden wall of the bar and then kick him where a man shouldn't be kicked. Xan only sighed and could only watch as the man was castrated with a dagger. All the men in the bar cringed aside from Xan who felt nothing.

"Such a noisy place." Xan muttered. The man was dragged away by his cronies.

"Aaye, Luezara eneth nin. Mani naa essa en lle?"< Hail, My name is Luezara. What is your name? > She slurred. Xan sighed.

"Suilaid, Xanlamin eneth nin." <Greetings, my name is Xanlamin.>

[TheKitsuneHuntress]

(( Yay! Posting time at last!! XD Imma translate alot of my elvish in these things: < Translation goes here> and am useing elvish from LotR.. Only elvish stuff I could find so don't complain Dx
Also the stuff that happens to Tiffs char, is by her permission as we came up with our meeting together :p Love yah Imouto!))

Luezara grinned widely as she leaned over a rooftop, her black cloak flapping in the breeze as she examined the town from the highest point. " Amin utue ta! " < I found it! > She cried out to herself in joy. A great smile spread across her pale face and her crystal green eyes sparkled in excitement. " The White Lagoon Tavern, the best around these parts. " She wrapped her long golden braided hair around her neck and pulled her hood up to cover her face and long pointed ears. Taking a few steps backwards, Luezara leaped forward off of the roof and landed gracefully on another rooftop across the ally, and ran across that roof to leap onto another. She continues thusly until she reached the Tavern and climbed down the wall to enter. " Now, how to enter.. "

Luezara thought for a moment before standing straight into a proud posture and slowly opened the door, entering as gracefully and dignified as any elf would, while keeping her elfish features hidden under her hood. She sat down at a table nearest the fire and asked a wench to bring her a starting amount of ten mugs of ale, two mugs of grog, three beers, and one of hard cider. The wench looked amazed and confused, but quickly ran off to get the hooded stranger a drink, only knowing this hooded figure was female by her chest, as Luezara was dressed pretty much exactly as a male, from glove to boot, though her stockings were female. From the talk going on around her, Luezara could tell a fight had almost occurred, but had been broken up, and the paladin drinking plain old juice was the cause of that fight. She chuckled to herself and shook her head, listening to the bard singing and playing, and she wished she had enough coin to support him as well.

The dwarven tavernkeeper was eyeing the elf as the wench brought her many drinks and Luezara nodded in thanks. " Diola lle. < Thank you. > I will pay when done also I wish for more when this is done. " The wench was shocked but said nothing as the cloaked elf began to drink. When she was alone again she playfully whispered to herself. " How to obtain payment this time, shall I seduce a man? pickpocket? Choices choices.. " Though it was not long until she became as drunk as the others in the tavern.

She smiled to herself upon noticing a handsome silver-haired man with a side braid entering the establishment, and she was especially interested in the wings that extended from his back. She could almost smell the magic that surrounded this stranger. "He seems interesting... Will be fun to play with.." A small hiccup forced itself from her lips and she giggled to herself.

A half an hour passed within the tavern and Luezara let her eyes wander back towards the silver haired man that had entered earlier. To her, it seemed as though his wings had gotten him into a bit of trouble, as a group of ruffians were harassing him over them. What a way to make an introduction! She stood up from her chair, stumbling slightly from all the alcohol she had consumed and made her way as gracefully as a wasted elf possibly could. One of the men had just pinned the winged stranger to a wall before she tackled the brute away from him.
" Utinu en lokirim! < Son of snakes! > Nadorhuanrim! < Cowardly dogs! > Drego! < flee! >"
" Bitch! " The man spat at Luezara and went to throw her off of him, but she rolled off in time and flicked a black dagger from her cloak and slashed right where no man should ever have to be slashed. Other males who were watching cringed at the sight, except the silver haired one she saved, who shown no emotion to what had happened. With the leader castrated, the group picked up the bleeding and cursing man and dragged him out of the bar swiftly.
"Well, that was fun. " Luezara hiccupped and removed her hood. " Man mathach? < How do you feel? > She smiled at the man and held out her hand. " Aaye, Luezara eneth nin. Mani naa essa en lle? "< Hail, My name is Luezara. What is your name? >

[Admin]

Karlaan drudged down the tavern’s stairs, just as the sun was at the highest point in the sky. His headache pushed out any civil thought. He shouldn’t have gotten so drunk last night.
“Stupid Dwarven drinking games...” Karlaan muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes. “Bastards have bigger stomachs than me. Stupid racial benefits...”
The goblin scrambled his way across the tavern to the bar area. His primal instincts started to kick in. Food. He needed some.
“What can I do for you mate?” The barkeep seemed cheery enough. However, that was because Karlaan had paid for two weeks rent in advance. He figured this was as good a place to start looking for work.
“Food”, Karlaan spoke bluntly. “And water.”
“Hah, can’t take your drink aye little one? One hangover killer, on the house”, the barkeep chuckled as he walked to the kitchen. Karlaan swore at him under his breath and mutter something about unfair odds stacked against him. The barkeep returned holding a tray with a pint and some porridge. “Best Hangover Killer. Lots of water and Grandma’s old porridge recipe, with lots of brown sugar”. Karlaan sighed as he looked at the pint of water, and the white goo covered in brown specks, before downing the water in one go. He wolfed down the porridge, ignoring any hint of taste.
“Geez man, no need to rush”, the Dwarf commented, looking astonished. Karlaan had always been a fast eater. He finished eating and then looked up at the barkeep.
“Get me hammer. Then we talk business”. The dwarf nodded and retreated into the back. The dwarf returned quickly, bringing forth Karlaan’s mighty Warhammer. The Warhammer was one of Karlaan’s possessions. It was the only one he treasured dearly.
“So”, Karlaan began, “I heard you wanted me to take care of some problems”.
“Ah yes-”, the dwarf was interrupted by a loud disturbance coming from the other side of the bar. A drunkard was attempting to rob a paladin. Karlaan laughed.
‘Humans are such idiots’ he thought to himself. The paladin was clearly stronger and he wasn’t addled by alcohol. However, the dwarf couldn’t have fights in the middle of his bar. He threw a drink at the drunkard, and called for the golem hiding in the back. Karlaan had seen the golem a few times now, but his size was still impressive. The golem removed the drunkard from the bar, throwing him out the door. Karlaan laughed, before returning to his drink.
“We shall discuss business later. What’s your name goblin?” The dwarf said, returning to Karlaan.
“Karlaan”, he spoke bluntly.
“Karlaan, I’m Kor Strongbeard. Pleasure to meet you”, the dwarf offered a handshake. Karlaan shook his hand absent-mindedly. The dwarf returned to his bar. Karlaan surveyed the bar. The paladin hadn’t left yet, there were a few light drinkers scattered around the bar. A bard had entered as Karlaan had spoken with Kor and began to play. Karlaan didn’t pay much attention to the song he sang, but apparently the crowd had liked it. The bard was showered in coins as he concluded his song.
However, now that the song had finished, Karlaan could hear something. He whipped around to see a drunken elf sliced a man in the genitals. Cringing, he noticed that one of the man’s henchmen ran out of the bar. The rest picked up their leader and carry him out of the bar.
“Is the bar secretly an arena? Seriously, two fights in the space of twenty minutes... Could it get any worse?” Karlaan mused aloud. Just as he said that, the door was kicked down. “Me and my big mouth...”
Three men stood in the space where the door had been. One of the newcomers was a larger man, clearly the brute of the bunch. Standing a good two feet above the rest of his friends, he looked rather menacing. His giant battleaxe might have attributed to this however. The middle newcomer was a stout man, with an aura of power about him. He had a long red cape slowing from behind his plate armour, wielding a longsword and buckler shield. A red headband flowed across his forehead, underneath spiked, blue hair. Karlaan suspected this was the leader. The last was a Spellcaster of some sort, with a long blue robe. The leader stepped through the door. Silence was cast around the tavern.
“Hah, a fine day for drinking indeed”, he proclaimed in more of a commanding tone than friendly. “Some of you may not have met me. I’m Borka, of Borka’s Bandits. And some of you have been messing about with my men”, his gaze drifted towards the drunken elf. “I’ll show you what happens when someone messes about with my men. Bruiser! Get her!” He ordered the meat-sack of the trio. Karlaan had to act fast. He’d secretly been itching for a fight anyway. Sprinting towards Borka, he leapt and flew through the air. He clenched his fist.
Impact.
His fist collided with the man’s face. No-one had expected it; even Karlaan hadn’t really thought it through. The blow struck the man shockingly, and Karlaan retreated back to within reach of his hammer. If the shit hit the fan, he wanted a weapon he could use.
“You think you’re so tough aye? How ‘bout you fight someone better than you?” He taunted viciously.
“I accept. In two hours. Bring 5 extra fighters to fight against me and my best men. You’re dead, you little shit.” He said, storming off with his cronies in tow. Karlaan surveyed the bar. All eyes were on him.
“So...” he began, “Whose keen for a punch-up?”

[TheKitsuneHuntress]

Luezara smiled at the silver haired man she saved and gave a small bow. " Gil sila lumenn' omentielvo. < A star shines on the hour of our meeting. > Xanlamin hm? That is a nice name. " She hiccuped slightly and giggled, but her merry-making was soon disrupted.

“Hah, a fine day for drinking indeed”, A mans voice called out. “Some of you may not have met me. I’m Borka, of Borka’s Bandits. And some of you have been messing about with my men” Luezara noticed that the man who called himself Borka was leading two other men, one very large and one who seemed to prefer magic in fighting, while Borka himself wielded a sword. She gave a small timid squeek when she realized his gaze was directed towards her with a great intent of causing harm. “I’ll show you what happens when someone messes about with my men. Bruiser! Get her!” He called out and the bulky axe-wielding follower started towards her.

" Shit! " Luezara managed to say and prepared to fight off the over sized assailant, but was as amazed as everyone els when a goblin brought his fist right into the mans face.
" Oh wow, I guess I owe that little green fellow now. " She laughed halfheartedly to herself. The man called Borka was pissed off now.

“You think you’re so tough aye? How ‘bout you fight someone better than you?” The goblin taunted as he fled to the side of a war hammer. For such a small being, he had guts, Luezara had to give him that.
“I accept. In two hours. Bring 5 extra fighters to fight against me and my best men. You’re dead, you little shit.” Borka spat and stormed from the tavern with his goons. The whole tavern was now facing the goblin who gave a small smile.

“So...” he began, “Whose keen for a punch-up?”

" I will assist you! " Luezara said, walking to the goblins side. The prospect of real battle sobered her up quickly. " I owe you my thanks little one. The least I can do is help in a battle being faught because of me, and I will not take no for an answer." The goblin looked up at her and gave a slight laugh.

" Guess there's no getting around it then, That leaves four more. The names Karlaan. "

"I will go as well. I cannot allow them to threaten a women in such a manner. I must also show them that you cannot just go up to a person and start a fight without consequences." The silver haired one called Xanlamin stepped along side Luezara and she smiled to herself.

" Guess that makes three more. " Luezara grinned down at the goblin Karlaan. " So! " She now yelled out so the whole bar could hear. " Anyone els interested in making this a decent show? " Her eyes scanned the crowds, then stopped on a Paladin. " How about you good sir? " A few of the other bar patrons chuckled amongst themselves as she addressed the paladin. Sure he had almost started a fight earlier, but They doubted he had the balls for a battle like this, though they themselves would rather not be involved with Borkas group.

" All cowards.." Xanlamin sighed to himself. " This is why it is impossible to trust most people. "

" Well that's a bit harsh..." Luezara smiled at Xanlamin. " And this is coming from an elf. "

[Diεgo]

It all happened so fast. One minute, Gabriel was just hanging around enjoying his drink, and the next one, all hell had broken loose. A variety of creatures had made their way inside and quickly turned noticeable. First of all, a bard began delighting the insides of the structure with his musical instrument, rapidly earning some attention. Gabriel had only closed his eyes and let sound enter his ears, not even turning his head to see. People were weird in this world. An unwanted stare might leave you buried face first before you even noticed.

"If you liked my simple song, please, feel free to show your hospitality with some coins!"

Of course, even bards had to earn each day’s food. Gabriel had been educated to be kind with the one in need. He had more than he could ever so, so sharing came as an instinctive action. When Bahamut came for him, anyway, he wasn’t taking any gold with him. Putting his drink on the table, the Paladin reached in for his pouch to pull out some tokens, but before he could even approach the wandering musician, a winged person introduced some drama to the tavern. Gabriel didn’t even bother to listen to what they were saying, but one thing led to another, another character tackled someone, and soon enough a fight began. They were probably all drunkards, anyway, drunkards who would break a bone or two this night and never see each other again. That’s just how life was.

The heat was becoming more and more intense as a troublemaking trio punched into the bar, quickly searching for someone to bug on.

“Hah, a fine day for drinking indeed”, he proclaimed in more of a commanding tone than friendly. “Some of you may not have met me. I’m Borka, of Borka’s Bandits. And some of you have been messing about with my men. I’ll show you what happens when someone messes about with my men. Bruiser! Get her!”

Surprisingly, Gabriel found that name familiar. Bandits and Paladins didn’t get along, right? Gabriel was no police officer, but he was more of a… Freelancer justice doer. He liked to bring peace to people, families, and even whole towns; which often meant beating and jailing some meanies here and there. Borka’s men had troubled a couple of Gabriel’s acquaintances, which made him really mad. He hadn’t actually ever seen Borka before, so being in his presence made him take his hand to his sword’s hilt.

Gabriel, discretely, just in case Borka recognized him as a paladin (which really wasn’t that hard), stood up from the stool, ready to make a move before he was identified as threat. Borka probably had plans of his own, but then everyone was surprised when a petite goblin leapt up like a flea and connected fist and face with a member of the trio. Gabriel stepped back and let out a quite laugh.

~He deserved that.~ he thought as he waited for the bad guys to make a move. This was interesting. Teasingly, Gabriel turned back to the dwarven bartender and said “Aren’y you going to do anything about this?”

The dwarf laughed and sat back. Borka, without returning the attack, threatened the goblin to a bigger fight later on and walked out. He was told to bring other fighters, so the goblin didn’t hesitate in making his own little team of warriors.

“Who’s keen for a punch up?”

The winged man and the elf, who were the ones to cause ruckus in the first place , quickly joined the goblin. Gabriel thought this was ridiculous. How cocky and childish did you have to be to accept fight just like that, joining a group of strangers on whose hands you’d put your health ? Oh, Gabriel didn’t want in on that. He let go of his hilt and carefully began walking outside, but he was intercepted by the elf female.

" How about you good sir? "

Gabriel didn’t expect being invited, but he was going to decline without a thought. He ate people bigger than Borka for a midnight snack; but he didn’t know these people’s ability for fighting, so if they fell down early, one versus six wasn’t a place the paladin would like to be at. There was something, however, that sounded appealing. Finally ending with Borka’s reign of terror. Oh, that was sure giving him 100 tickets in paladin’s fairyland, taking him closer to recognition and fame by his peers.

“Uh..” The paladin said, unsure of what to say. “Yeah, sure. I’ll meet you guys here in two hours, though; I’ve got some things to get done.”

Without further do, the paladin mysteriously walked out and got lost in the woods.

[Umbreongirl]

The day had started out anti-climatically enough. Seraphina had awoken without much conflict, at the crack of noon, to meet the unforgiving, yet forcefully optimistic rays of daylight, although with great chagrin. She had arisen only to find that several items of clothing had gone missing, forcing her to reflect on the night’s events. As she stood in a state of deep concentration in the center of the room that had served as her lodging, a queer quivering caught her attention. She glanced over toward the corner of the room only to notice Krueger tucked away into a corner, trembling, serrated incisors bore as he hissed aggressively. It was only after Seraphina followed his eyes, did her eyes widen, and everything start to go south from there.

“Dear, sweet merciful Obad-Hai,” Seraphina choked out, “What in the world?!”
Backing up to join Krueger in the corner, Seraphina, taking a death grip on the rat, took a tuft of snowy fur, gathering it up into her hand, and stealthily began to creep out of the room.

“Lucinda?” Seraphina only wavered in the slightest, hesitating for only a split second, but that fraction of a minute was all that it took.

“Lucinda!” The voice repeated, and this time it was more urgent. Of course, Seraphina didn’t remember giving her name out as Lucinda, more importantly; neither could she stick a name nor a face to this strange man, but nevertheless, she still had the sinking gut feeling that all this man wanted was her. Finally, the height disadvantage of her race sold her out, and the man, who didn’t sport such this obvious impairment, rapidly caught up to her just before she had reached the hickory stairwell leading down into the main attraction, the Tavern. Before the man’s big meaty paw could even graze her shoulder, Seraphina turned around gracelessly, her intolerance for liquor beginning to shine through her bad attitude.

“Lucinda, where were you going?” The man asked innocuously. “Were you going to get breakfast? Don’t worry, it’s all on me!” Seraphina sighed. Though she was lucky enough not to exhibit the splitting headache this time around, her little visit from the nausea monster wasn’t any more pleasant.

“Look,” Seraphina began, attempting to be as civil as humanly possible while fighting back the contents of her stomach, which were rallying to make a surprise appearance. She had attempted to look the man in the eyes while she spoke to him, but then realized that he stood a whole three and a half feet taller than her.

Wow, how drunk was I? Seraphina recollected, confused. How drunk was he? He must’ve been under the table, to wake up in my room.

“Look, last night, I don’t know what kind of impression I was under, but it was obviously unintended, and not the wisest move on my part.” Seraphina hoisted the leather knapsack slung across her back, and continued to walk.

“So I would just appreciate it if you would forget you saw me leaving, go back to bed, and don’t get up for at least two hours.”

“But Lucinda!” The man bawled, catching her arm in an emotional fever pitch, to which she whirled around irritably. Eyes blazing, she was fixing to slug this guy right in his ugly maw, at least long enough for the probability of her escape to grow high, but the man sank to his knees in a fit of desperation, pleading eyes locking onto her.

“Please, Lucinda! Don’t be rash sweetheart! You promised that we’d be together forever!” The man buried his face into Seraphina’s shoulder, of which she inconspicuously slipped just out of reach and tried to be on her way. The man noticed this, and jumped to his feet, easily catching up with Seraphina again. Unfortunately for her determined suitor, Seraphina, realizing the gravity of the situation, had picked up her pace.

Thank God for race benefits… Seraphina usually wasn’t so irritable and crude, yet at the current moment in time, she could feel the liquor rising in her stomach, and the pressure in her head intensifying. She gasped, and then clenched her teeth just in time for her pursuer to grab the closest thing in reach, which just so happened to be Seraphina’s knapsack. Seraphina didn’t realize that he had ripped the article off until a peculiar clinking noise caught her attention. She turned quickly around to see her newly acquired loot spill all across the tavern floor. Her eyes widened, and bewildered, she looked up at the man just in time to see his expression change from one of self-pity to one of sheer rage.

Kruger jumped defensively in front of Seraphina, incisors bared, but the man kicked him away as if he were nothing more than a small vermin nuisance.
Shit... Seraphina thought, as she ran to Kruger’s side, heart pumping with adrenaline as she helped her furry friend back up to his feet. She had just enough time to rise to her full height, and cast a single worried look to the man, before he grabbed her arm, squeezing it with a vice grip that she wouldn’t have expected of him, and twisted it sharply, all the way around, until Seraphina could feel her shoulder blade giving way from the massive amount of pressure. She let out a wounded cry and floundered uselessly, struggling with all her meager weight to break free. The man leaned in, his hot breath curling around Seraphina’s ear, wafting down in front of her nose until his hot, stinking saliva made her nauseous. She again attempted to wrench away, but the man twisted her shoulder even further than she imagined possible, until just one more fraction of an inch would’ve completely dislocated it. Seraphina glanced up, eyes swimming with tears. Krueger lunged at the man, but just as quickly, the man pulled a dagger, pressing it cleanly to Seraphina’s throat.

“You conniving little midget whore…” The man whispered, applying light pressure to the dagger, just enough to break the seam of her skin. Seraphina didn’t even flinch; more concerned with the state of peril her arm was in at the moment.

“Thought you’d get away with my loot, did ya? I’m going to teach you a lesson that you aren’t soon to forget.”

The man released her arm, and Seraphina relaxed immensely, expelling the breath she had been holding in grateful little gushes, relief flooding her, until the man then raised an arm, poising it above Seraphina as if to strike her. Though she could see the arm in her peripherals, she kept her eyes lowered to the floor, raising them slowly, and fearfully, as she summed up all the raw power that he would be putting into this punch.

“You’re no man ‘tall if you’re going to be hitting little girls” She retorted, seemingly unfazed, though in reality, her heart was hammering so erratically, that if it weren’t for the usual clamor and din of this tavern, it would be audible to the naked ear. The man’s lips twitched upward at the corner, a hint of sadistic amusement gleaming in his hungry eyes. Kruger paced nervously, never taking an eye off the dagger, watching Seraphina mournfully.

“I don’t hit girls, but I have no qualms with silencing a bitch!” The man laughed, as his arm swung down like a hammer, aimed decisively for Seraphina’s miniature face. Forcefully, she slammed her body backward, striking gold in managing to hit the man’s groin with her back as she did so, and in the same fluid motion, flew down the staircase. As she forced herself to a premature halt at the bottom, the man behind her swearing vigorously and stumbling down the staircase. Seraphina gasped, knowing that it was the end for her when he got to the bottom, and prepared to slip into the crowd. The crowd seemed to have broken, and there was a distinguishable clearing in the tavern up ahead. Of course, with Seraphina’s height, it was impossible to glean a morsel of what was going on, but fortunately, Seraphina’s height allowed her the opportunity to slip through the crowd unnoticed. When she finally emerged through the neverending throng, encountering quite a few surprising odors along the way, she emerged to find herself standing eye level with a man, or… a beast rather, of her relative height.

The feature that permeated her mind most forcefully was the pigment of his skin, a thriving chartreuse, and as she had never met the acquaintance of another being her height before, lingered indefinitely, trying to catch wind of what was going on.

Shamrock eyes peered wistfully out of the crowd at the green man, and it seemed as if she had taken an interest in a wrong time, as she seemed to have missed a significant portion of information. A man who nearly doubled the green one in height was rubbing at his eye, which had already swollen to twice its size, indicating that next day he would have a shiner. Seraphina glanced back over at the green man. Dare she make the connection? But her awestruck suspicions were soon confirmed when the green man spoke.

“You think you’re so tough, aye? How ‘bout you fight someone better than you?” A hint of a smile was made visible on Seraphina’s face. Tough talk for such a little guy, but judging from the pretty bulk of muscle present on the man’s biceps, it looked as if he could at least partially back up the threat.

“I accept. In two hours, bring five extra fighters to fight against me and my best men. You’re dead, you little shit.” The man laughed mockingly, before turning on his heel, and walking right out the door.
All of a sudden, Seraphina was aware of the crowd being broken up behind her, people stumbling and falling over each other in a clearly distinguishable patter; the pattern being a trail to Seraphina. A stifling fear seized her heart, and as it did, it swelled to the point of bursting, as clumsily, she emerged completely from the crowd, the people at the very front toppling to reveal a clear entrance from the enraged lunatic drunkard who had been pursuing her. Seraphina gulped, and looked nervously around for an escape. Krueger was nowhere in sight and all Seraphina could gather was that he was trying desperately to penetrate the tight-packed crowd. The man wore a wicked sneer, and tauntingly, caressed the blade of his dagger.
With his tongue.

What a freak. Seraphina thought disdainfully, mouth curling in disgust, as she noticed only the green man in near vicinity.

“So… who’s keen for a punch up?” He asked uncertainly, scanning the bar skeptically, as if he didn’t expect many takers, if any at all. This was it, her escape. An elf pushed her way through the crowd, grinning broadly. The elf, while evidently female, was dressed as if she weren’t at all entirely convinced.

“I will assist you!” She announced enthusiastically, without hesitation. “The least I can do is help in a battle being fought because of me, and I will not take no for an answer!” She assured the green man, and so there were two. As Seraphina thought this the prime opportunity to make her offer known, another person simultaneously emerged from the crowd. He carried a forceful presence about him, and as he broke past the numerous bodies huddled around the site, he seemed not to take notice of those he blatantly disrupted and shove back from his intended pathway.

“I will go as well.” He announced flatly, much to the green man’s delight. “I will not allow them to threaten a woman in such a manner. I must also show them that you cannot just go up to a person and start a fight without consequences.” The man finished regally, and proceeded to take an uncomfortable position next to the elf. As the intimidating devil of a man finished speaking, Seraphina’s eyes widened to see her friendly neighborhood stalker moving to make an advance toward her. As the Elf woman strode off momentarily to ask around the tavern in an attempt to accrue more fighters, eventually wavering before a hulking figure of a man, one who, by the regal and uncommonly embellished weaponry holstered on his belt could be either easily distinguished as a noble or a Paladin, Seraphina turned somber eyes to the green man.

It was a peculiar feeling, being able to look one directly in the eyes rather than have to look up, and for them to look down on her, and she tried to display what she thought of was an inviting smile. She hadn’t taken one eye off of the fellow trailing her yet, and she made sure to keep the green man between him and herself. She hoisted the bow on her back.

“If I could be of some help, it would be my pleasure to join.” She smiled, hoping to appear genuine, though her main concern at this moment was for her life. Had she known the circumstances on which the Goblin had acted, perhaps she might have admired the spark of benevolence that had enabled him to throw the punch and in part protect the Elf. Or perhaps she would have chided the Goblin for his lack of resourcefulness, and keeping to his own best interest. It was hard to tell, for Seraphina hardly felt any given way at all times. Regardless, the Goblin’s incentives coincided with her own, and so pleasantly, she smiled.

“I’m Seraphina” She introduced herself simply, appearing reserved until she could attain more information on this creature. By finding out more, she would have more of an indicator how to act. For now, the charm was on, full-blown, until her safety could be assured.

[AKnightShallCome]

In his many days of travel all around the world, he's seen a lot of things. A lot of things that a lot of people would probably consider themselves lucky to see. Different cultures who practice different beliefs. Different brands of warriors, wise men, and kings. However, strangely enough, he took a little solace in one of the very few things he found actually stayed the same: bar room idiocy.

After his performance of his heart-felt muse, he began his ritual picking up of his gotten gains and mingling with the various people in the crowd while having his dinner. The flavors of his ordered pork and potatoes tantalized an otherwise starving tongue... and who could forget the warm embrace of, the emotion healing serpent, alcohol, slithering down his throat. He had hoped to learn a couple of new stories, or maybe even a new song for the road... however, all of this revelry seemed to end pretty sudden at the arrival of a man with wings. Then escalated with a iconoclastic woman getting involved in the brawl. From thence, there came a band of bandits issuing a challenge to a small, but fiery goblin (who had slugged him a good one, not too surprisingly). A couple of people offered their services to him to accompany him in this fight, including people who really had nothing to do with the scuffles, like the distraught halfling or the stoic... bear of a man for lack of a better word.

Would Lied also be one to volunteer his swashbuckling (yeah right) and grandiose (uh huh... sure) experience? Why should he? After all... what is there to really gain in staking your life for a contest you had nothing to do with? Aha....

A grin broke on his handsome face as he muttered to himself, "now could be the time..." He stood with the confidence of a long praised hero and walked to the goblin. He bowed and said, "I would like to offer my services to you this day, sir, to help dispatch that vile band of ruffians..." In his head... this was a step to increasing his renown, another way to get his name spread. Becoming a legend was hard work, but isn't it worth it, to achieve your life's ambition?

He continued, "I assure you, I'm not just a musician... I have traveled from here to there, and everywhere... in those travels one must certainly know how to defend oneself... I've crossed swords with many a people, and as is made evident with my simple being here, I exhaled the sweet sigh of victory." He started to leave and opened the door, the sun which came pouring through the orifice making him a mere shadow. However, he stopped and said, "I will return before the time... I must speak with someone I hold dear..." With that, he made that tavern, another cobblestone down the road of life.

He put his hands in his pockets and started to whistle a merry, wistful tune. Upon arrival at the edge of the town, he pulled out his whistle, and requested audience with his beloved horse. While waiting for her arrival, he continued his tune, singing under his breath, "The bard... of Armagh..."

[TheAlmightyGhostPrincess]

Gil sila lumenn' omentielvo. < A star shines on the hour of our meeting. > Xanlamin hm? That is a nice name. " She hiccupped slightly and giggled. Xanlamin could only sigh. This strange girl whom had saved him (even though he could clearly handle himself in battle) was clearly drunk and wouldn't remember a think when she came too. He just idly sat back while this elf girl was trying to strike up a conversation with him that disinterested him.

Right when he was about to tell the girl to back off and leave him alone three men entered the bar. One was considerably larger than the other two. Not that Xan was really interested in what was happening. How he got sucked into this was unknown to him.

Upon closer inspection of the men it was clear that they were petty bandits but judging by the silence that fell upon the cavern it was evident that these were men to be feared. Xan scoffed at their cowardly behavior.

“Hah, a fine day for drinking indeed”, he proclaimed in more of a commanding tone than friendly. “Some of you may not have met me. I’m Borka, of Borka’s Bandits." Xan's voiced perked at the name. He had encountered these bandits many times on his travels. He had murdered at least a dozen of their members during his travels.


"And some of you have been messing about with my men”, his gaze drifted towards the drunken elf. “I’ll show you what happens when someone messes about with my men. Bruiser! Get her!”

" Shit! " The elf girl swore and was prepared to fight off her assailant.

Xan was becoming increasingly irritated with the situation. He grabbed a dagger laced with a potent neurotoxin from his bag. One graze from the dagger and the man would writhe in pain, if the man was hit by the dagger he would be dead within a matter of minutes but before the man could even approach the elf girl a Goblin appeared out of seemingly nowhere and dealt a heavy punch to the man which only escalated the situation.

“You think you’re so tough aye? How ‘bout you fight someone better than you?” He taunted viciously.
“I accept. In two hours. Bring 5 extra fighters to fight against me and my best men. You’re dead, you little shit.” He said, storming off with his cronies in tow.

“So...” he began, “Whose keen for a punch-up?” The Goblin asked.

"I will assist you!" Luezara yelled, walking to the goblins side. The prospect of real battle sobered her up quickly, "I owe you my thanks little one. The least I can do is help in a battle being fought because of me, and I will not take no for an answer," The goblin looked up at her and gave a slight laugh.

"Guess there's no getting around it then, That leaves four more. The names Karlaan. "

Xan sighed again. Maybe he was acting on a sudden impulse. He didn't know what was causing him to want to fight these bandits. Maybe it was the irritation of how they had threatened him, or maybe it was because they had threatened this women. Whatever it was it surely wasn't like him to jump into a fight, "I will go as well. I cannot allow them to threaten a women in such a manner. I must also show them that you cannot just go up to a person and start a fight without consequences." He said flatly. Xanlamin's opponent wouldn't be going home alive. He never went easy on an opponent and it was in his non-existent nature to murder his opponent.

Luezara went looking around for more people to recruit but none of them took up her offer aside from a Paladin and the Bard that had been singing earlier and a small halfling girl. Most of them were probably not competent enough to fight.

"All cowards.." Xanlamin sighed to himself, "This is why it is impossible to trust most people."

"Well that's a bit harsh..." Luezara smiled at Xanlamin, "And this is coming from an elf."

"Your kind included. People can only trust themselves because in the end that's all you have. Friends, lovers. They mean nothing in the long run. In the end your all alone because that is how life works." Xanlamin said flatly. These were the teaching of the Lunars. You can only trust yourself and people meant nothing to them. Friend, Lovers. They meant nothing to a Lunar and a being who's very emotions were sealed by a curse.

[TheKitsuneHuntress]

Luezara pouted slightly but quickly regained her composure to seem indifferent. Sure being an elf she was not quick to make friends herself, waiting for someone to prove their trustworthiness before she would even try to create a bond of true friendship, but this man seemed too cold for his own good. She knew he probably had his reasons for acting in such a manner, but she couldn't help pity him for feeling such a way. "Very well Xanlamin, Diola lle <thank you> for helping in this battle, It is greatly appreciated. You are an Istar <wizard> correct? I can feel the magic around you. "

"Yes, I am a wizard." Xanlamin stated with a tone that could almost be bored to those who didn't know better.

"It would be an honor to see your power in battle then, Heru en amin. <non-formal "My lord."> Luezara smiled kindly and then turned to the halfling girl who was the only other female to join in this battle. " 'Quel undome, Peredhil. <Good afternoon, Halfling.> Your name is Seraphina correct? "

Yeah, that's my name." The Halfling smiled and bowed slightly, Luezara nodded her head, smile still on her face.

"My name is Luezara. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Guess it's just us two girls in this fight so.." She smirked playfully. "Up for a little bit of fun before the battle?"

"Fun? What kind?" Serephina asked, interested.

"Well, we are both children of the forests as it seems, so we might explore the wood together, or perhaps explore the town to catch sight of those males which are appealing to the eyes?" Luezara's smirk widened.

"Sure, why not?! " Serephina smiled and walked to the door of the tavern with the elf who was so much taller than she.

"I look forward to seeing you before the battle Xan." Luezara winked at the winged man before walking out with her tiny companion. The winged Xanlamins' eyebrow seemed to twitch in annoyance at the informal and unwanted nickname.

"Why do I get the feeling she will cause me much trouble from this day fourth? " He muttered to himself before also leaving the tavern to go about his own business before the allotted time of combat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luezara and Serephina walked through the town, a few people turned to look at the odd pair due to the difference in their height, but Luezara headed them no mind. " So Serephina, you are a druid yes? "

"Aye, I am." The Halfling replied, looking up at the elven female.

"Then you must be most knowledgeable on the forests of the world, and well traveled to them. By chance have ye been to Arrad? A forest full of lovely trees, the leaves are golden all the year and fall only when new ones are ready to grow. "

"Sounds lovely!" Serephina giggled, "And romantic, you must take me sometime to see it."

"Gladly, after joining the battle with us, I feel you deserve to see it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Many hours passed after the group split up from the bar. Luezara and Serephina walked along the road towards the point of meeting. " Hmm, Do you think the paladin knows where to go? Perhaps you should find him, as I must find the winged one, Xan. "

" All right, have fun." Serephina smiled as she ran off to find the bear of a paladin. Luezara merely chuckled as she walked to find Xanlamin, and as she walked, she began to sing.
"I dreamt I
Was born a girl
Living alone
In the world

Passing the
Hours away
I looked into
The face of sorrow

Tempted by the
Taste of tomorrow
And the scent
Of yesterday

But that was only
A dream of a dream
This world is
Not what it seems

We are the wind
That carries the seeds
We are the roots
Of the banyan tree

We are love offered
On the wing
That stretches
Across eternity

We are a chord in
Life's symphony
We are the silent
Awakening

We are only
A dream of a dream
This world is
Not what it seems

We are the wind
That carries the seeds
We are the roots
Of the banyan tree

We are love offered
On the wing
That stretches
Across eternity

We are a chord in
Life's symphony
We are the silent
Awakening "

[Sponsored content]