Craftlands In Chaos - a Minecraft RP

Sy smiles. "Why that's wonderful! I'm sure that Thaes approves of your work. Would you like some help?"

The enemy's gate is a spirograph.

"Swordsmith?" Eden narrowed their eyes behind their mask. "And why would a swordsmith know so much about voidmarks...?"

They hesitate, thinking, then push up their mask— just enough so the mark can be seen.

"Can you help me?"

Alistair noticed the man's reaction and smiled. Judging by his apparent nervousness and the fact that he was pulling down his hood, he was likely a raider, a bandit, or some sort of criminal from the north. Not that it surprised Alistair, the northlands were difficult for the Craftlands to police making it easy for raiders and fugitives from the south to prey upon the local populace. That was part of the reason Alistair had moved his experiments there in the first place.

"I'm a naturalist who studies northern wildlife, particularly monsters." Alistair ran through his head the probability that this man had heard of the infamous ender swordsmen persona that his group had taken on. "Mainly the effect that cold has on zombie decomposition, the behavior and hunting patterns of northern breeds of creeper," he looked with his fully purple halfworlder eyes directly at Timberwolf. "And the habits of sword wielding enderman that attack local villages. You wouldn't happen to know anything about them would you?"

As the Timberwolf and Alistair converse, so do the masked figure and the two cloaked people.

Swordsmith grins at the Cloak, then claps their hands together. "Why, yes, I do make nearly any weapon you could hope for. Swords are merely my specialty."

They then turn to Eden. "Well, I've been around quite a while, and taken weapons orders from all walks of life. I know my st-" They stop short as they catch sight of the Voidmark, and whistle quietly. "You... broke oath, didn't ya. I'm afraid that's one thing I can't help you with."

And then Anasurimbor steps into the tavern, the door sagging slightly as he enters, tiny wisps of flame dancing around him.

Uri comes to the tavern to find the door slightly askew on its hinges, and a man in a green jacket talking to a testificate, who he recognizes as his friend from earlier.

The man responds thoughtfully to Shylock's question. "Mmh. Honestly, varying intensities, but usually from fire or possibly lava."

At the springhill tavern, the bartender chuckles. "Oh, I wish they weren't as popular as they are. I appreciate the request, but... no. I think a Nochite priest would very much be noticed if they 'vanished'."

Outside, Candice blinks at Sy, giving her a strange look, before returning to her cheery demeanor again. "Ayup, sure she does! Honestly, though, I'm jahst about done here." She finishes her last bottle and stands. "Where to now, eh?"

And finally, inside the fine tavern, the purple-shirted man (somewhat unsuccessfully) stifles a snort of laughter. "Pfft. I suppose I can't blame you, the people here can get slightly grating. Kevin Thatcher, by the bye." He extends a hand. "And offhand? No, nothing I can think of."

---

@TailsPatrol: I figured since Eden's eyes can be seen through their mask (they'd have to see out, after all), having a Voidmark but no black eye would be a sure sign of having left the group. Let me know if I should change it.

@Everyone: First of all, I'm fielding questions about the world both publicly and privately, as always. Second of all, if you'd like elements from your character's backstory to appear in this campaign, drop me a line and we can probably (99%) work something out. And finally, we've hit 100 posts! Sure, yeah, that's only about 10 rounds, but whatever. The exciting part is coming soon, folks!

edited 30th Sep '15 5:18:53 AM by iamsolarflare

When everything changes nothing changes.

Palayen takes the man's hand, shaking it firmly. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Thatcher. Now, I simply must repay your oh so gracious hospitality. A round on me." The plated man withdraws a purple leather coin pouch from one of his bags, weighing it in his hand. The coin clink softly as he does so, of which he withdraws several. He replaces the pouch in his bag.

The rarest of pepes.

The Smaller man stares at the Timberwolf, trying to intimidate him. The Timberwolf almost laughs at that, and putting all of the willpower that a Northern war leader and Berserker has, stared back and responded, "I can tell you how to kill any monster in the north, from the zombies, creepers, and even skeletal warriors that ride giant spiders, but never have I fought a sword wielding endermen. They are rare in the north because of the snow, and their dislike of water." Unfortunatly, the Timberwolf did not think he could safely get any information from this man about his companions. But maybe there could still be a chance. maybe.

"Well they only inhabit one area, near the site of one of the recent Herobrine attacks. However they're infamous all over for kidnapping people from villages only for the rest of the villagers to find their bodies having been turned into horrific aberrations. I have no idea how they do but my best guess is that they used some sort of enchanting." Alistair suppressed a smug smile. "Normally they just attack villagers but sometimes they kill everything from bandits, to knight errants, to raiders."

"I must confess, I do not know. I am new to the area, you see. The only reason I came here was because the owner of the tavern I am staying at suggested it. Are there any locations of particular note that I should visit?"

The enemy's gate is a spirograph.

Uri walks into the Tavern, searching for the fence.

It would require a singularly stupid man to do something like that. I am most definitely that man.

"What sort of drinks are available here, barkeep?" Anasurimbor asks as he walks towards the bar, ignoring the patrons, his abnormal eyes focused forwards.

edited 4th Oct '15 8:38:59 AM by MeleeIsBetterThan64

"I see. Well then, do you have any proof of prowess? And if so, what are your prices?"

This is definitely the darkest timeline.

"What sort of Lava? The reason I ask is that Nether lava has a much different composition than the normal, because the molten netherrack has a high sulfur content."

edited 4th Oct '15 2:26:18 PM by WaldoHathBeenFound

Eden winced. "Yeah, I— I did. I don't regret it, either."

"that's quite a shame, It's unfortunate that I found my way to a devout town... anyway, may I have some water?"

The Timberwolf and Alistair continue talking to each other.

Swordsmith, meanwhile, continues fielding two conversations at once. "Good on you, having no regrets. And as for you, my fellow hooded friend..."

They spread their arms wide, grin returning to their face. "Proof of prowess? Kiddo, everyone who's ever been anyone has had a weapon of mine. Prices are steep, yeah, but you're not gonna find a better weapon anywhere else. One of a kind, they are."

The barkeeper, a lanky and shifty-looking man, appears not to have noticed Anasurimbor's... eye condition, shall we say. "Beer," he responds calmly, eyes scanning the tavern. "And water, if you don't mind it tasting like beer."

Uri walks into the tavern and is immediately pulled aside by a girl with bandages loosely hanging around her neck. "There you are, buddy! B told me you'd be coming."

Outside the tavern, the man speaking to Shylock grins sheepishly. "Yeah, it's usually Nether lava... and Blaze burns, Ghast explosions, the whole like."

Up to the springhill! Candice shrugs calmly. "Eh, I'unno. The Nochite church is pretty nice, but somethin' tells me that's not yer style. There's always a tavern, but other 'n that the springs're th' only thing of note."

The bartender in the spring tavern silently pours Hammond a drink of water.

Meanwhile, in the last tavern in town, Kevin shrugs. "A round on you? Why not? We might have to leave after that, though." He stage-whispers conspiratorially to Palayen. "I really don't want this to get messy, eh?"

When everything changes nothing changes.

Hammond takes his water, turning to survey the room, taking in the conversations.

"I asked for proof, not propaganda. I have yet to meet a smith who doesn't claim that their wares have been used by somebody famous. I was more wondering if you have any examples of your work with you."

This is definitely the darkest timeline.

Palayen shrugs to the man, ordering his drink from the barkeep. (hard cider, to be exact) Returning his attention to his newfound 'friend' he grins mischievously. He converses with him in a light tone, but not a whisper. "These noble shits don't know enough about fighting. Nothing more than their fancy fencing moves, which are all but useless against any opponent not wowed by what amounts to nothing more that a poker. I count zero weapons that could pierce my armor, so I am not worried. However, I'll attempt to keep it civil. For your sake."

The rarest of pepes.

"Hmmm... I will have to visit that part of my homeland and destroy them when I return. But until then, maybe you could help me? There are three people, all from my homeland, that I am looking for. The first one's name is Afrid, and see is a master of the longbow, javelin, and spear. She has a fiery temper and will always see you before you see her. The second is a man named Egil Olafsson. He is what is known as a Huskarl, an elite bodyguard. He is quiet but do not let that fool you, he is a master with sword and shield, and his loyalty is unending. Finally, there is Ulf. Ulf is a big man, not very smart, but I once saw him pull down an oak tree. He is a Berserker, so instead of armor he wears a bear skin cloak, and fights with a big two handed bearded axe that he swings like a stick. Do you have any information on any of them? It is important that I find them." Talking about his companions to a stranger was a risk, but one the Timberwolf had to take.

Eden lowers their mask and interlaces their fingers, listening in as the conversation continues. "Honestly," they say after a moment, "I'm not sure what such a great swordsmith is doing at a place like this."

Surprised, Uri, says, "Why yes, here tends to be where I am, unless I've suddenly moved somewhere else. I'm assuming that this 'B.' is our mutual friend from the Hotel?"

It would require a singularly stupid man to do something like that. I am most definitely that man.

Without responding, Anasurimbor turns away, surveying the room. He selects a seemingly random passerby, and plants a hand on their shoulder, turning them around. Just then, he stumbles and collapses, his eyes flaring white before fading back to a normal shape.

Alistair thought back to his time waylaying travelers in the forest. The three sounded very familiar to him oddly enough. "You know, I did run into three matching those descriptions. They had just been attacked by those enderman I mentioned to you. They were apparently fierce fighters. Certainly the fiercest the enderman were likely to ever encounter."

This was indeed true. When Alistair's band did attack the three northerners he had dodged getting his head cut clean off by Ulf only to narrowly escape one of Afrid's arrows by teleporting into the underbrush. Egil had nearly slain one of Alistair's companions. If the man in front of him was anything like them, than a fight with him should be avoided at all costs.

"We didn't speak much as they hurried on their way. If we met again I doubt they'd remember me. And as for slaying those enderman. They were all wiped out when Herobrine razed the nearby village. I narrowly escaped the village myself. I don't know if he got to your three companions before that."

Shyock throws together a few herbs and pastes, handing the resulting mixture to the customer. "Here, smear this over any nether-burns you receive as soon as possible, and this should aid the healing process."

"Thank you, kind stranger. In that case, I shall seek out servants of evil." Sy turns and leaves, walking back into town.

The enemy's gate is a spirograph.