The forest drips away, somewhere, to reveal a clearing. How big? We'd not recommend you risk getting lost like that.
The first thing the prospective visitor would notice is the barn. Two stories, peak-roofed, painted a blue made even duller by the mist, with doors exiting into a pasture enclosed by a well-worn, white-painted fence. The fence's gate, greeting any forest visitors, was latched closed to keep the cows from wandering away, with nothing really stopping anybody from reaching over to flip it open. The pasture itself looked to be reasonably trimmed from many cow feedings, the barn doors had been slid open for the day, the food and fresh water bins were full and the stalls had been cleaned, but there appeared to be no cows for the fence to keep in.
Or any animals, for that matter.
The chicken coop, goat pen, pig pen, wyvern roost, they all laid as empty and silent and devoid of life as the woods surrounding the farm, beneath the gray, uniformly lit sky. As though the farmer got ready for the day, turned his animals out to pasture, and they evaporated when he walked away to go get something.
Come to think of it, the farmer hadn't even left at all. The bone-thin, gaunt-faced, terracotta-tanned man with the Earth-Mediterranean features had at long last managed to settle down for a bit of peace and quiet. Maybe he intended on returning, maybe he didn't. Either way, he had come back to the dreamscape, like it or not. From high inside the barn, he laid at the ready, watching and listening for what was to come this time.
"Jack, you have debauched my sloth."
Drummer Boy
The red and gold silk robes billowing around her made her look like a lit torch drifting through the fog. She only measured about four-foot-nine, but she was wide-shouldered and sturdily built. A wide gold sash accentuated her waist, giving her blocky body some extra definition and a more flattering silhouette. Occasionally, she lifted her robes a bit past her ankles to better negotiate her way through the twisted tree roots covering the ground, revealing a pair of gold-embroidered flat shoes in the same blood-red as her robes. Thick, hip-length black hair freely cascaded down her back. Her skin, usually a rich golden tan, had been slightly browned by the sun. There was something disarming about her face's round, soft features, but her dark brown eyes were dangerously keen, somehow shrewd and playfully bright all at once.
At the moment, however, they looked a bit tired as she slowly wandered the forest. The direction she was going felt very right, somehow, but she neither knew nor questioned where this sense of rightness came from. Since she had no destination in mind, every direction was equally right and wrong, really. Still, she was determined to continue.
Her patience soon rewarded her with the discovery of a clearing. What was this, a little farm? How quaint. And yet... it was lifeless. She drummed her fingers on the gate. Something was wrong. Had the animals been rounded up by thieves? Yes, perhaps that was possible. Then where were the owners?
The barn was as likely of a place as any to search for clues. She jumped, and magic carried her over the fence. Scanning her surroundings to make sure the scoundrels who made off with the livestock didn't try to catch her by surprise, she headed for the barn.
edited 23rd Jan '16 5:58:36 PM by SnowyFoxes
The last battle's curtains will open on stage!
In the midst of the forest, neatly hidden within the mist was a small area free from the tangles of the brush and trees. An area that was strictly unnatural in it's existence, as it had been forged by *human* hands. Bush was cut away and branches were removed with the sole purpose of creating a small shrine. A makeshift nest of wooden branches propped up a marble relic, a depiction of some unknown woman, some forgotten deity. Sloppily carved into the side read the words Deus Vult.
A woman clad in faded silver armour, the creator and servant of the shrine, knelt before the relic, hands clasped and head bowed in great respect. Her genuflect did not impede the woman's sense of caution, as she continued to listen out for any outside threats. Of course, there were none. If you were to believe the whispers of the forest, there was no life to be found within it's domain. And yet, with her shield propped upon her back and her blade forever readied at her side, the woman took time to build this monument in order to escape the silence of the forest and to hear guidance from some mystical plain.
As comforting as the spot she had picked out was, she could not remain there forever. Eventually, she had to press on. The Journey Continues. Continuing to cut a path through the woodland, she finally came across the first sign of life in a long time. A... barn? Very odd. Regardless of it's strange place in the surroundings, the woman was pleased to see it. A rare smile may have found is way onto her sharp, weathered face had it not been for the fact that the farm seemed as cold and as lifeless as the forest behind her. The woman picked a small piece of twig out from her stringy chestnut braid as she moved closer to examine the barn, leaping the fence. It was then that her eyes first caught glimpse of another inhabitant of the farm, and it was wonder she hadn't noticed them sooner. Their lavish clothing certainly stood out in comparison to the drab grey surroundings. Sword at the ready, the woman called out in order to receive the other person's attention. "HALT!"
[Orange Tree Garden]
Celso Merquior was a slightly stooped, narrow man nearing seventy. He was a Brazilian of mostly Portugeuse descent, just light enough to be called white even in the United States or Europe, with dark brown eyes and soft, genial features, gracefully marked by age with avuncular wrinkles. He was mostly bald, but his remaining hair was kept short and neatly combed. He wore a light bespoke white suit without a tie, clearly expensive but timeless and understated. There was an air of calm satisfaction about Celso (as he preferred to be called), of a man who had achieved all his ambitions and now lived only to enjoy and share the simple pleasures of life.
This apparent inner peace extended to the dreamscape he found himself in: a garden of Mediterranean architecture, with an bountiful orange tree in the center, its scent wafting through the air. Celso made his way to the tree, and put a hand around an orange, but stopped before plucking it, and instead let go. Seemingly the air, he said, "not quite, my friend, not quite. I shall not repeat Persephone's mistakes." Though he was content to sit here for a time, he felt a certain wanderlust, a curiosity to see what lay beyond the wispy tendrils of fog... and with it, a vitality he'd not had in the real world for a great time. Celso knew he was dreaming, but also that this was not an ordinary dream. He had seen things, pulled from the hidden tomes of Western Amalgamated, and he knew the world was not quite as it seemed. First things first. He checked under his suit and... yes, still there.
Underneath the suit, held in a shoulder holster, he carried his firearm of choice — the LPM BLIP-10mm Leo. The Leo was a semi-automatic handgun, unlikely to be mistaken for any other of its kind; the Bio-Logic Industrial Polymer used in its construction, licensed courtesy of Western Amalgamated, had a distinctive shade of almost metallic ice blue impossible to match with conventional polymers. The impressive appearance hadn't been a goal, but it was a happy accident that served to make the weapon a fashion statement as much as a killing machine without the need for any extra effort. The designers had ran with it, unable to resist giving it a subtly organic curve that meant the weapon had a certain sci-fi look. It was a hefty weapon, not as gratuitously massive as a Desert Eagle but still quite powerful. Clever design and the properties of the Leo kept it the gun lighter than would be expected. It wasn't so light as to make recoil unmanageable, but the expectation was that its wielder would be experienced enough to compensate for a certain extra kick. Celso was extremely comfortable with the weapon, not least because it was his own corporation, Laboratório Pereira-Merquior, that manufactured it, and he had tested every major iteration, not letting it into production until he was personally satisfied with the result.
Hopefully, of course, Celso would not need his masterpiece. Who even knew how much help it would be here? No, better to hope this was a quiet trip, a chance to simply enjoy life, a taste of the retirement he had been ever postponing.
edited 23rd Jan '16 3:38:26 PM by KillerClowns
They/Them
[The Clearing -> The Farm]
Dives-Deep-Waters had found themselves in a very difficult situation: The green scaled Argonian had nothing on them. It was very unlike them to be unprepared for any situation that came their way, but now in nothing but a piece of fur armor that served as underwear, they angrily stomped on flat feet toward the farm that had finally come into view, gritting their teeth along the way.
Dives-Deep-Waters was rather tall and lean, with crocodile like scales all over their body and a long and thin tall that swayed just above the ground. They had a thin reptilian snout with a thin jaw, which had two chin spikes and three larger spikes beneath and behind the back of the their jaw. They had a head of red feathers and two backward curved, stubby spikes in front of said feathers. Three downward curved spikes rested on their brow above a deep set pair of silver eyes with slit pupils that flared in anger, as did a thin pair of nostrils at the front of their snout. Most curiously, was the coloring on their face.
With an orange throat and chin, the rest of Dives-Deep-Waters' face was lined with red. Crusted red war paint went across their face and over their eyes before tapering on both sides next to their throat. Red circled around their nostrils and covered their brow, going past the warpaint and the same red also covered a strip of scales below their eyes as well.
Dives continued their angry march, unaware of the others near the barn, for now.
[The Sky -> The Forest]
In a world of dreamers, only The Dark Caller was truly awake. Usually this had a metaphorical meaning, but in this instance, it was much more literal.
Up in the sky of the dream world, a pitch black portal tore open. From the portal, a raven shaped form of shadow burst out, the portal dissipating behind it. The creature flew for a brief time before flying down to a cluster of trees. Landing on top the largest tree among them, the whole cluster of trees and the ground beneath it instantly turning coal black, the leaves turning to dust and the branches twisting into wicked shapes. As the raven creature began to enter a dormant shape, yellow eyes with no pupils began to open and close, observing the surroundings before moving to another spot on the tree.
The creature would now wait, it had an infinite amount of time to do so.
Note to self: Pick less edgy username next time.
Eat my dust!
[The Forest -> The Clearing]
The last mouthful of the potent brew passed his lips as he took a hearty swig of his bottle. The burning bitterness of the alcohol scorched his mouth and throat, revitalizing him, reminding him of who he was.
He stood head and shoulders above than the average man, easily tall enough to reach the leafy foliage of the trees with an outstretched hand. His skin was a dark chocolate color, with a well-trimmed beard adorning his chin. Only one of his eyes was visible, the other hidden behind a worn eye patch.
He strode into the clearing, exposing himself to the radiant sunlight. His shoulders were covered by a long midnight-blue duster, flowing behind him like a cape, empty sleeves and all. Beneath that was an equally-camouflaged ballistic armor suit, the numerous pouches stuffed with various as-yet-unidentified objects.
He began to walk towards the farm, his heavy boots making noticeable footprints in the soft grass of the serene acres. He twirled his weapon lazily, slinging it over his shoulder like a hooligan with a baseball bat. Despite his laid-back stance and gait, any semi-competent observer could see that his guard was up. His eye swept back and forth, looking for intruders, and his footsteps, while heavy, were not loud enough to travel into the barn.
Slowly, he crept up to the barn. The steel from his grenade launcher gleamed in the sunlight, as if eager for battle.
edited 23rd Jan '16 3:35:23 PM by gameknight102xx
"SAID CLOUD TO THE CARTOON PONIES AND UNICORNS WITH PICTURES OF FLOWERS ON THEIR ASSES. A DURR HURR HURR." ~Game Spazzer
[farm]
The sound of shoes padding against the cement floor was unmistakable. Standing in the door to his barn was a small shape of a robe-clad person, shadow blurring into an amorphous pillar. He watched the scene unfold with thin, blood-hued eyes, careful not to move or shift his weight lest the floorboards give him away. He didn't have to watch too long before a woman's cry of 'halt!' attempted to pierce the air. The robed person turned their head in the direction of the sound. A third one announced their presence by trudging through his pasture, to his barn.
Vinicio Acquati, Doctor of Aitherophysics-and-Some-Other-Junk, part-time farmer-horticulturalist-chef, slowly sat upright. He rubbed his eyes, stretched old muscles, let the creaky floorboards announce that the farmer hadn't left at all. He brushed bits of hay from his dark, tousled hair, and the unbuttoned, pale cyan shirt he wore over a white t-shirt. As he did so, he took to examining his hands and body, feeling his face, as though unsure of his current form.
Of course, being himself, sound wasn't the only way one could know he was there, as his cores awakened, too, beginning to pulse with aither in an almost-bass, four-tone way, to those that could hear such things. But for now, it stayed faint. After all, he was, to some points of view, still technically a man.
edited 23rd Jan '16 4:00:30 PM by CrystalGlacia
"Jack, you have debauched my sloth."
Attitude is prohibited
[Orange Tree Garden]
Distant humming could be heard from the centre of the garden, and it seemed to be approaching at a leisurely pace. The song being hummed was pleasant, though not exactly complex. It was childlike, in a way. And indeed, the voice behind the humming seemed to be that of a young woman, or perhaps a girl. Footsteps could then be heard and the humming got closer, louder. A few normal steps, then hopping, skipping.
Out of the mist emerged a school-age girl, who couldn't have been more than 13, and was probably actually a bit younger. She wore a white, buttoned-up blouse with a black-and-green plaid skirt that went down to her knees. Her socks were tall, white, and had a green trim along the top. Her shoes were dress shoes. This was a uniform, it seemed, of the school whose name was neatly embroidered along her sleeves: Hakoda Imperial Academy. She might have even passed for a normal girl, were it not for her lavender hair, short and messy, and her eyes, red like crimson.
Behind her, making no noise at all, following only one step behind, was a rather menacing figure. A female figure, a young adult, likely in her early 20s, though it was difficult to know for sure. While she had the same hair colour and style, and a keen observer might notice the extreme similarities in the structure of their faces, that was approximately where the similarities ended. The figure worse all black; a one-piece, form-fitting suit that extended from her neck to her feet. At first glace, it might look as though it were made of leather. A second glance, however, would reveal that it seemed to be made of smoke.
Indeed, thin wisps of sinister, black smoke seemed to be rising from all over the figure's body, even the exposed skin of her face and her hair. Her lips were subtle, thin and straight. Motionless, expressionless, like the entirety of her face. Her eyes were covered by a visor, black and wholly opaque, roughly extending from the bridge of her nose to just below her brow. A long, curved sword - a scimitar - was sheathed at her hip. She kept one hand resting on the hilt.
The schoolgirl, meanwhile, was wholly unarmed, and seeming oblivious to the smokey figure who followed closely behind her. The figure moved noiselessly, and stepped perfectly in synch with the girl, like a shadow.
The girl approached the elderly man, the only other occupant of the garden, and smiled pleasantly. "Hello." She said. She bowed, and then curtseyed, as though unsure of what was more appropriate. Abruptly, her attention was captured by the tree. She turned to it, apparently delighted, and reached out for one particular orange, though she wasn't quite tall enough to reach it...
Not entirely dead.
Mr ship
[Forest-Unknown]
In an unknown part of the forest laid a man. The man known as Henry A. Safon the Second looked to be in his mid thirties with slightly long light brown hair unstyled and a metal leg brace on his right leg. Curiously it looked like he was caught in an explosion, with his navy blue pinstriped three piece suit being scorched and torn all over and his white dress shirt being just as bad with the collar looking like it was torn halfway off. Even curiouser was the fact that the surrounding area looked showed no signs of damage aside from the crushed grass he laid on.
After laying there Henry eventually groaned as he awoke. "Eh Jesus fucking Christ what happened." He asked himself as he struggled to get up, propping himself on a nearby tree. As he leaned on the tree he took in his surrounding as he senses kicked on. "Where am I?"
He looked around a bit more seeing nothing but forest, almost like something out of an ancient fairy tale he read a long time ago.
"Ok. I'm in the middle of the woods but wh....." His trailed off as the memories of the last time of conscience he had came back to him like a truck hitting him. "Shit!" He exclaimed.
He took a few steps forward testing his balance. "I have to find Lauren." He said as he reached in his jacket relieved that he still had his weapons. He pulled out a Smith and Wesson Model 29 44. Magnum revolver that was silver plated with floral engravings and a mother of pearl grip. He started walking out into the forest in hopes of finding Lauren.
[Forest-Clearing]
In another part of the Forest was a woman laying on the ground much like Henry was. The women was called Lauren Safon. She was a Japanese American women in her late 20s with black hair that was originally in a neat bun. Also like Henry she too looked like she was caught in an explosion with her black 1980s business suit scorched and torn everywhere, the right leg of her pantyhose severely torn and her white blouse had ash all over it. Again too the area around her was undamaged.
Eventually she awoke too but not feeling as bad as Henry was. "Er what the hell?" She said as she stood up trying to keep her balance.
She looked around at the forest she found herself in, thinking that it looked like something out of a dream. "Damnit Henry where'd you send me this time?"
She wasn't surprised at this really. Henry has been sending her to many dimensions in the time she's known him and this was nothing new. "Alright I better find you before you hurt yourself."
Looking around the area she saw a farm in the distance." Well that looks promising."
As she started walking towards it she noticed there were a couple of figures. One was in faded silver armor calling towards another one in ornate robes to halt. Another was in a duster with what looked like a grenade launcher strung over one of his shoulders. The final one was approaching the barn seemingly unaware of the others and appeared to be a form of lizard person.
"Shit." She whispered to herself as she checked her jacket relieved to find her Glock 17 pistol was still on her. Deciding not to take chances she quickly hid behind a tree and watched the others.
Drummer Boy
[Farm]
She turned to the person who had shouted, the annoyance on her face hinting that she was not usually one to take orders. As soon as she stopped walking, snow began to swirl around her robes as the air around her suddenly turned freezing cold. She did not seem affected by this, however. Covered by her robe sleeve, she wiggled her right wrist until a silver bracelet slipped off of it, and she gripped it tightly.
There were a few people approaching, but the two closest were the armored woman who had shouted, and a very tall man with an unfamiliar weapon that filled her with some trepidation, but she took care not to let this show. She decided to say nothing for now, only raising her chin and narrowing her eyes slightly at the armored woman to invite her to state her business.
edited 23rd Jan '16 5:38:36 PM by SnowyFoxes
The last battle's curtains will open on stage!
[Farm]
Good, she had gotten her attention. But as this happened, she noted the presence of another approaching from behind her. Refusing to take her attention away from the robed woman, she listened to the footsteps. Slow, but hard. Either the person behind her was very large, or they were carrying something heavy. The cautious spaces between the steps informed her that the approaching person was not aggressive, and that she wasn't in immediate danger. With that settled, she addressed the robed woman.
"Do not be alarmed, I am here to protect and serve the people of this land. Forgive me for making assumptions, but considering your manner of dress, I highly doubt you are the owner of the farm. Please, state your name and intent in this area."
[Forest]
Five girls, all about middle school age, stood in the middle of the woods. One was a slender redhead, another a tall brunette, the third a blonde with green eyes, a fourth who was dark-skinned, and the last had a deep tan and towered over the others. All were dressed rather casually, save for a ring on their right hands. Each ring was made of gold, carved in the shape of a dragon holding a gem in its mouth, and it would be clear to anyone that they were part of a set.
It seemed that instantly, all five took to bickering. "Hey, Rach, you been sleep-teleporting again??"
"Danny, if I'd been doing that, you'd know. I've got no clue where we are. This isn't Nowhere, I doubt it's the Black Lands, and it sure isn't New York."
"You mean this isn't New York?! Gee, I couldn't possibly have figured that out on my own."
"Charlotte?"
"Yes?"
"Knock it off."
"Well, wherever this is, I bet Tiamat sent us here, and she did so for a reason. I think we ought to starting finding out why."
"Amy's right. We should get moving. These woods are giving me the creeps."
"Sure thing, Olivia. I'll take the front."
"Then lead on, O fearless leader."
edited 23rd Jan '16 6:28:10 PM by daird
Forward, boys! For God's sake, forward!
They/Them
[Farm]
Dives stopped in their tracks as something triggered in their mind, alerting them to the presence of those around them.
Dives crouched as low as they could to the grass of the clearing. They whispered and the red auras of all those around were seen to Dives alone. Though not able to discern the individual features, Dives could count all ten other individuals in and near the barn.
They noticed two figures across from each other and Dives' curiosity grew. They cast a spell of invisibility and Dives began to move toward the barn. Quickly scaling its walls and spotting to the women, Dives kept low and watched.
[The Forest]
All the eyes on the blackened trees where The Dark Caller had positioned itself closed as the black eyes of the Dark Caller itself shot open.
It had detected a signal trying to call out for others, and the Dark Caller now knew that if anything else could call out for others, anything else could also detect it before it was ready.
The Dark Caller concentrated, and only the most sensitive could sniff out the void the Dark Caller left.
edited 23rd Jan '16 6:35:22 PM by DarkbloodCarnagefang
Note to self: Pick less edgy username next time.
Eat my dust!
[The Clearing -> The Farm]
He stopped just as the girl in front of him did, intrigued by her sudden shouting in the middle of the clearing. Did the girl in the armor and the girl in the robes know each other? You'd have to be very brave or very stupid to call out to strangers like that otherwise.
A flicker of movement was the first thing to trip his senses. He looked up at the barn, but he saw nothing. His good eye narrowed in suspicion.
Sure it could've been his imagination, but his gut instinct told him otherwise. Even though he was inebriated, he still knew better than to leave things like this to chance.
He unhefted his grenade launcher, before pointing it at where he thought he saw the movement. The gleaming barrel was straight at the barn, a little to the left of where the source of his trepidation actually was.
"Ya know..." his voice was deep, deep and loud and saturated with a Scottish brogue. "Spyin' on people ain't a very nice habit. 'Specially when one of those people can blast ya inta tomato porridge. Why don't ya show yerself like a decent person would?"
edited 23rd Jan '16 7:44:18 PM by gameknight102xx
"SAID CLOUD TO THE CARTOON PONIES AND UNICORNS WITH PICTURES OF FLOWERS ON THEIR ASSES. A DURR HURR HURR." ~Game Spazzer
[Orange Tree Garden]
Celso studied the pair, warily eyeing the woman before giving her a slight, subtle nod of acknowledgment that implicitly said, I don't want any trouble. Then he spoke to the child. "Good day, little one." He looked between her and the orange tree. "I am not so sure about the oranges," he said. "I know the smell is temping, but do you know where you are?" He took a seat. "Have you ever heard the story of Persephone and Hades? Hansel and Gretel? Or of the Fair Folk and their offerings of food?" Celso shook his head. "This is a beautiful place, but it can also hide dangers... dangers no mere blade," he glanced towards the smoky woman's scimitar, "or gun can stop." Then he cleared his throat and said, "Celso Merquior, at your service. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, senhorita...?" He waited for the girl to give her name, and hopefully the name of her companion.
edited 23rd Jan '16 8:39:07 PM by KillerClowns
Drummer Boy
[Farm]
I'll humor these claims, for now.
"My name is Seilaan Ren." She was by no means soft-spoken, but her enunciation was clear and careful. "As for my purpose, I found it strange that there is no livestock here, and yet—" She gestured towards the full bins of food and water. "So I decided to look for the owner."
And then the large man with the eyepatch decided to point his strange weapon at... something. Hopefully he wasn't too hasty with that thing. It didn't look terribly precise.
Strangely enough, snow was falling in a part of the misty forest. At first, it was coming down gently enough to allow small children to romp around outside and have a grand old time, but it was growing heavier and heavier. Beside a frozen river stood a small-ish two-story house. It was plaster with a visible timber frame that gave it a rustic, Germanic look. A metal sign hung on a rod sticking straight out of the front. It simply read, "Gamino County District 2 Clinic." A wooden sign on the door said, "Dr. Friedrich G. Ritter, general practitioner." Below this hung a flowerbox filled only with dirt.
A man sat on the front porch. Most of his body was hidden by a long gray coat. Besides this, he wore gray trousers and very weathered black leather shoes. His hair, originally light brown, had turned mostly gray by now. Although only fifty-four, his thin, sour face seemed to belong to someone about ten years older than that. A pair of oval-shaped glasses rested on his nose. His hazel eyes stared intently at a patch of broken ice in the river. The area was just large enough for someone to fall through.
He took a sip of the mug of tea that he clutched in his gloved hands. He'd have to go inside soon, but for now, watching the snow fall gave him some semblance of peace.
The last battle's curtains will open on stage!
Mr ship
[Forest-Clinic/Henry]
Henry continued to limp through the forest, with each step causing him more pain than the last. "Goddamnit this is turning out harder than I thought."
As he got a bit further it started to snow a bit. While Henry was very much used to snow, he had a great dislike of it due to traveling in the desert climate of the Middle East in his younger years. "Just great."
He continued on despite the pain as the snow started to get heavier. Eventually he reached a frozen river. He gently put his foot on it to see if it was safe enough to walk across. Once he found it to be solid he started to walk across careful not to slip. When he made it to the other side he spotted something he didn't see when he first looked across the river, a building. Taking a closer look he saw a sign that said "Gamino County District 2 Clinic." on it.
"Jackpot." Henry said to himself as he put his revolver away in his shoulder holster and started to make his way up to the front porch using up a lot of his remaining energy in the process. When he made his way to the porch he saw an old man in a large grey coat sitting there. Trying his best to stay standing he spoke to the man.
"Excuse me sir is this your clinic? I'm in desperate need of a doctor right now."
[Forest Clearing/Lauren]
Lauren stayed hidden spying on the armored and robed figures as they spoke to each other. As she watched she heard the one with the grenade launcher call out in a thick scottish accent.
Looking over to him she saw that he was pointing the launcher in her general direction and shouting towards her.
Spyin' on people ain't a very nice habit. 'Specially when one of those people can blast ya inta tomato porridge. Why don't ya show yerself like a decent person would?
"Fuck." She cursed to herself deciding it was best to do as he said.
Raising her hands she walked into the open towards the man.
"I'm not a decent person but I know when I'm beaten." She called out to him.
They/Them
[Barn]
Dives heard the booming voice of the man who had started aiming a strange weapon at the Argonian.
Breton? Dives thought, Either that, or a very drunk Redguard.
Choosing not to risk their scales, Dives hoped off the barn and raised their arms in the air, their invisibility spell breaking.
"I am unarmed," they said, walking slowly toward the man before stopping to indicate that they weren't a threat.
edited 24th Jan '16 8:16:27 AM by DarkbloodCarnagefang
Note to self: Pick less edgy username next time.
[farm]
...Wow. Good frickin' morning. What if he was still sound asleep, would the man have expected him, the owner of the place, to clamber down the ladder just to avoid having a damn explosive shot through the barn?
It wasn't a huge issue if he fell and broke something, but it still sucked... so he descended the hayloft's railing-less stairs slowly, each step creaking lightly as he did so. He moved to the barn door, to show himself and hopefully keep his barn safe, and found his suspicions quickly confirmed as he approached the robe-clad young lady in the doorway.
Up close, he looked to be roughly middle-aged, with a gaunt, even blend of features from around Earth's Mediterranean and Arab World. His short, dark hair was a perpetual tousle. He wore an unbuttoned, pale cyan-colored shirt with the sleeves rolled up over a white t-shirt, with understated, dark work boots and trousers. His shirts fit him like tents, and his trousers were obviously too large in the waist, but he'd settled on belting them instead. The color of his shirt seemed to have been chosen deliberately for its contrast, as it brought out the red tones in his terracotta-tanned skin and the blood-hue of his eyes. Too-broad shoulders tapering to a thin waist and bony limbs made for a dramatic, severe shape that the man wore with near-impossible grace.
"That'd be me, Miss Ren." God, her eye level was at his chest... he didn't realize how short she was. He considered shooting the man a sharp remark- good God, was that a grenade launcher? His cores thrummed briefly with aither in anticipation of a fight, then died back down to their previous low level. Giving him a withering look, Vince sighed. A remark probably wasn't even worth it, and much to his dismay, the grenade-toting man was mostly within his right to suspect something lurking in the hayloft.
As he watched for what the man would do next, he found that he wasn't the only one 'lurking' around the farm, as two others showed themselves from the forest, and from the roof.
edited 2nd Apr '17 8:51:19 PM by CrystalGlacia
"Jack, you have debauched my sloth."
Professional Recluse
The trees went by in a random pattern, showing no or sparse evidence of a trail. Forests were supposed to help calm him down, but something was wrong.
The Finnish military uniform clung tightly, grey coat and collar slightly disheveled under white snow camouflage. No weapons graced the empty holsters, he hoped he wouldn't need them. Thick unkempt grey hair streaked with a few stubborn strands of black ran down the side of his face. His nose was slightly crooked and icy blue eyes darted around with uncharacteristic skittishness.
He hurt, he wasn't sure where, each time he tried to mull it around in his head it slipped away. He might not have been sure where but running didn't seem to make it worse. On second thought, running didn't seem to be tiring him out either.
The trees opened up into a slightly larger clearing. It did that a couple of times now, but he stopped to check each time. A tank sat in the clearing, drab green and hulking. He recognized it as a Russian T28, he got closer and noticed bullet holes along with a much larger shell hole that let him see the leaves on the other side. It was empty though, they all were. Some had holes, others had scorch marks and the faint scent of alcohol.
There were no bodies, in the tanks or on the ground. There never were. But the scent of burned flesh hung in the air each time. He passed a few other tanks he knew, and several more he didn't until he got to the end. There was always a pristine Vickers tank at the end, one that he always felt like getting in.
But once again he decided he was faster on foot and Master Sergeant Ulf Marten disappeared through the trees to find yet another armor graveyard.
Stoned hippie without the stoned. Or the hippie. My AO3 Page, grab a chair and relax.
(Edit)Orange Tree Garden
There was a white fence in Caleb's way. That wasn't right, this looked no were like the place he was a moment ago; and the air was different. Caleb was in a simple mail truck, and wore the standard postal uniform of his town: a blue shirt with white pants. Where uncovered his skin was near dark as midnight, indeed close inspection would reveal the slightest purple ting; and had hair to match, except for a lighter brown tuft over his right eye. It was arranged in thin dreadlocks. The most notable feature, however, were his glowing veins; which were to straight, to semetrical, and to orderly to be completely organic.
Too confused to speak, he emerged from the vehicle, revealing his slight profile and eyes that glowed the same blue as his veins. One could also see the strapped harness on him, with restrains that looked to trap his arms if thightend, but currently loose. Tentatively he exhaled his eidolon and felt the mist. It had the usual mix of gases with extra water vapor, but something else he couldn't identify.
Looking back at his vehicle, he considered his options: if someone stole it he'd be out of this job, but he shouldn't drive on private property without the owner knowing. So he determined to follow the fence until he saw someone or a reliable trail.
Less than a minute later he saw the garden and the orange tree. Moving toward the the tree, three humans (at least Caleb thought they were): an old man, little girl, and young woman with a length of...was that a sword? With a slow approah he asked, "my regrets for interrupting, but are any of you the owner of this place?"
edited 24th Jan '16 11:22:37 AM by Novis
You say I am loved, when I don’t feel a thing. You say I am strong, when I think I am weak. You say I am held, when I am falling short.
[Farm]
Hmm, the farmland area was beginning to become quite populated. It would certainly be an issue should any of them become hostile. For now, however, the armoured woman kept her attention on Ren and the newly revealed owner of the farm. "Well Ms. Ren, it seems you've gotten half your answer. But the question remains..." She turned her attention to the farm's owner. "Where is all of the livestock? Have you fallen victim to bandits? If so, I can be of assistance."
Eat my dust!
[The Clearing -> The Farm]
His eye blinked in surprise, his mouth twisted into a bemused frown. He blinked a couple of times, ascertaining that it wasn't just the alcohol causing him to see three different people.
"Huh. Was only expectin' one of ya." With a lazy twirl, his grenade launcher resumed its place on his shoulder.
He put his empty bottle of scotch back into his coat, and pulled out a new one. Putting his thumb under the bottlecap, he effortlessly popped off the bottlecap before taking a hearty swig. After his drink, looked at the lizard and the young girl, tilting his head in confusion.
"The hell were the two of ya even tryin ta do anyway? Ya got a peashooter and a pair of claws between ya."
Shrugging, he turned to who he presumed to be the owner of the farm.
"Don't give me that look. There was a giant lizard crawlin' all over yer barn. But since you're here, I'm assumin' yer the owner of this farm. What happened to yer animals?"
edited 24th Jan '16 9:25:32 AM by gameknight102xx
"SAID CLOUD TO THE CARTOON PONIES AND UNICORNS WITH PICTURES OF FLOWERS ON THEIR ASSES. A DURR HURR HURR." ~Game Spazzer
[Ritter Clinic]
Iveya ul'Uelshu qo'Oyina (no relation to Iveya ul'Valmoth, niece of Aseyu ul'Valmoth) was a tall, austere woman whose sandy tan skin seemed streched directly over her jagged bones. Her shoulder-length straight hair was dyed snow-white, cut with long bangs that almost covered her slate grey eyes. She wore an indigo wrap, somewhere between a sari and a toga, over silken pants and tunic. Eldritch magical energy emmanated from her, though tenuously; the Eyes and Teeth had granted her power, though it had not yet corrupted her and for now was playing along with her troublesome sense of right and wrong. (An Uelane sense of right and wrong, which has a few differences with Western perspectives.) She had begun to suspect something was amiss with the power she wielded, and it didn't dare give her reason to try and sever their connection, something still well within her capacity if she didn't mind enduring what was a considerable amount of pain even by Uelane standards.
Iveya also had a certain aristrocratic bearing. The Uelane do not have noble families, and laugh at the very concept as an absurd superstition dreamed up by the decadant, weak, slaving nations they crushed beneath their sandals. The Uelane do, however, have certain families, able to trace their ancestries (through adoption or blood) backwards to the most famed and heroic warriors of Amu's slave revolt, families who speak proudly of their venerable lineage and continue to reap the rewards of their loyal service to the Uelane people. (Uelane culture, like any well-established conquering culture, was drenched in hypocricies.) Iveya was part of one such family, and like most such families, it was a mess of scheming, backstabbing, politicking, and general skulduggery.
This paranoia was reflected in her general presence; she was scanning everyone she saw as a potential threat, looking for weapons (concealed or visible), measuring their body language, always, on some primal level, regarding everyone as a potential assassin, rival, or threat of some other sort. It was unlikely she would ever truly let her guard down — to the contrary, anyone looking to understand her nature would do well to pay more attention to her actions than her words.
She was dressed for her tropical homeland, and of course utterly unsuited to the snowstorm she found herself in. As soon as she spotted the house, she cast a spell to warm herself somewhat. In the theoretical long run, the drain on her energy would hasten a death by hypothermia, so she kept the spell mild, just enough to take the edge off the cold. In the short run, it provided some comfort, and she only needed to make it to the house anyways. She gathered that the laws of Sacred Hospitality were understood even among barbarians, so she made her way to him. "Greetings," she said, between clattering teeth. "I seem to be... lost. May I shelter here?" Although her words were polite and her demeanor civil, she also had every intention of killing him if he refused without offering something, even if directions to a hostel, to compensate; leaving somebody to fend for themselves in a storm like this would be tantamount to murder, after all.
edited 24th Jan '16 9:20:58 AM by KillerClowns
Greetings, and welcome to the 27th installment of the Character Development Threads! Here you may utilize a shared setting to have your characters interact with those belonging to other writers. No sign-ups are necessary and you can join anytime. We just recommend that you read the OP, check the last few pages of the thread, and look at the wiki page first.
Make sure to stop by the discussion thread if the thread's gotten long and you need a recap or if you have any questions. It's also where we contain the majority of our out-of-character chatter, so do keep an eye on it if you plan to participate.
Discussion thread
/ Thread page
It is helpful to have your character come in with a predetermined goal or motivation to help guide character interaction, but this is simply recommended, not required.
For this particular thread, we're revisiting a previously done thread concept. Because of the fact that a shared dream is more flexible than most of the other settings we've done, we're playing by slightly different rules. Please check the thread page for some guidelines to keep in mind, and come to the discussion thread if you still have questions.
Last, but certainly not least, a huge thank you to all the CDTers who helped make this thread happen.
The air is heavy with mist. Tendrils wrap around the massive trees and pool between the gnarled roots erupting from the ground, caressing the entire forest with cold, damp fingers. It is impossible for anyone to see more than twenty feet or so ahead of themselves, no matter how keen one's eyes are, for this strange fog is composed of no mere water droplets. It isn't quite magic, either. This dreamy haze seems to know everyone who enters the forest, as if the fine droplets can permeate one's very being. For each person who finds themselves wandering this forest, something new will be birthed from the fog, something that will refuse to be ignored once they are aware of its existence. All they have to do is find it. The last battle's curtains will open on stage!