|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Jun 20, 2006 7:09 am
The fire ball collided with The Leader. He was thrown backwards with great force, but it had little effect on him. Pedrius, unmoved by this, jumped into action. Almost on command, his mighty claymore reverted to it's original form. A giant sword crafted to look like the fires of hell.
The leader had lost one of his battle axes when the fire ball hit, yet it dd not impede his battle strength. The pair exchanging blow for blow without giving any ground. For sometime it just appeared as though they were repeating the same cycle of blows. But appearences are not as they seem. Pedrius, always thinking, was preparing his next assult.
Pedrius swung his sword low, forcing the leader to take a backwards step. Yet, Pedrius continued to swing with his sword and his cloak swung around. It wafted and wrapped around the leaders face. And the more he struggled, the tighter it got. Now, in complete control of the battle, Pedrius shifted his feet. The shifting of his feet meant that he could spin back around to face the leader.
And so did his sword.
Pedrius' sword cleanly removed the leaders head from his body. At first there was nothing. The body stopped moving as the head was flung across the courtyard and stop at the feet of one of faceless troops. The troop bent down and picked the head up, only for it to turn dust in his hands.
There was a resounding silence that fell across the entire compound. For a moment not even Pedrius knew what to do. When there as a tapping on his shoulder. It appeared to be a scribe wearing black rodes that cast great shadows over his face and body.
"Sire, what be your name?"
At first Pedrius wondered what would be the reason for this. But could not careless. If they all were as easy to kill as the leader was, Pedrius had nothing worry about.
"Pedrius."
The scribe quickly wrote it down and scampered off. There was still the resounding silence. IT was suddenly broken by the booming voice of the scribe.
"All hail lord Pedrius! Might his reign be more fruitful than Chrysalis'! ALL HAIL LORD PEDRIUS!"
Suddenly, then entire compound was aroar with chants of glory to Pedrius. Returning his sword to his side, Pedrius slowly walk towards what appeared to be the bases command center.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 21, 2006 11:29 am
stare
D'artra's body moved amidst the comotion as though the chaotic whir of such things was what it was there for. It scoffed for a moment at what seemed nearly mindless drones as they chanted, then a look of amusement crossed the delicate black-laced features.
A light wind tugged at the cottony gray dress and sent her dark-streaked hair in a little dance of its own. After a moment she moved to intercept Pedrius. When she spoke it was still that dual voice, echoing dark that overpowered the pale wispy light. "Such fragile bonds of loyalty... they sway too easily."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 23, 2006 7:53 am
"True. Their alligence would be to a stump if they were told about it. But it is such blind dedication that I require. That I require to make my next move."
Pedrius walked up to the doors of the command center and just kicked them down. The chants of the peons were still raging on. In the back of Pedrius' mind, he just wanted to ran out there and slaughter them all now. But they would get their just reward for such blind faith.
The scribe from before came scurriing around a corner and signed for Pedrius to follow. After twisting around a few corners, the scribe entered a room in which Pedrius followed him. It was the library, the place in which Pedrius suspected the scribe sent most of his time.
"You have nothing to fear from me. There is no way that I am powerful enough to challenge you or is anyone else here. I just simply offer my services. My knowledge. That is my power, m'lord."
After a moment of thought, Pedrius took a seat and placed his feet on a table. Some dust and crud was flicked off, proceeding to drop onto the table and nearby floor.
"Very well. I shall spare your life for now. Besides, you may prove more useful now. But first, I need to know your name."
The scribe was taken back. For the most part, people did not even bother to acknoledge tht he existed. And now, not only was he in direct service of the leader but the leader was enquiring his name. For a moment, the scribe could say nothing but inaudible gibberish.
"Almeric."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jun 25, 2006 11:11 pm
i hope i'm doing this right... auronclone: Reality Name:zachery hall Age:18 Location:somewhere running away from home (in time and space) Appearence:5' 9" brown eyes, brown hair, messy hair, unibrow,dresses in jeans and a t-shirt with a flannel shirt over it. has a hat but doesn't always wear it. has sandals with covered toes. pale skin. (pictures are ok, description better) Occupation:writes, and sells it to people or companies.Brief History:grew up in a small town, and left whenever he could. he couldn't stand living in 1 place for long. he wanted to see the world, and to find a real adventure, instead of living the boring life of everyone else, with no goals. Realm Name:seran nightfall Age:40 Appearence:pointy ears, silvery purplish hair, 5'9", brown eyes, wears normal travel clothes and a chain tunic. leather boots. wields a curved sword and a dagger. (pictures are ok, description better) Alignment:very good! but uses evil methods at times to acclomplish his deeds. (good, evil or somewhere between) Class:mostly warrior...kinda rogish though. (like Mage, Warrior, Rouge, etc) Weapon:sword and dagger style. Brief History:a half elf who set off to find adventure and hunt treasure. he fights for the weak and innocent.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 26, 2006 7:53 am
this is a good spo, thought zack. he laid down in between the rocks in the wooded clearing just of the road side. he needed the rest and would like to see the realm again. he always liked the realm.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
seran was walking in a forest cutting through the woods to get to town. he would make it there in an hour if he was lucky. but he secretly hoped that he would be delayed. any kind of fight would be enough to curb his recklessness and boredom....
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 1:52 pm
Username: girl_no_13 Reality Name: Lottie (Charlotte) Roberts Age: 18 Location: (hope the past is ok!) Victorian London, 1879 Appearence: Slight, medium height, dark brown hair, blue eyes, all in all very ordinary. Almost only ever seen in blue or navy Occupation: Professional invalid Brief History: Lottie is the youngest daughter of a well off London doctor, she was diagnosed with a sort of narcolepsy at age 10, and with hysteria at 16, she now spends much of her time in bed. She is shy and quiet, unused to much society apart from that of her parent's friends. Realm Name: Imogen Star Age: 89 Appearence: Medium height, with orange-brown eyes and long chesnut brown hair that is normally coiled around her head in intricate plaits, especially on formal occasions. She's a half-elf, so her features are pointed, especially her eyes and ears, her sking is a sarthy tan, and she tends to wear gowns or tunic and trousers of olive greens and browns. Alignment: Neutral Class: Mage, though she is also pretty good with mellee weapons. Weapon: short sword or dagger Brief History: Imogen was lowborn, the result of a human man's passing fancy, something she was never allowed to forget by the other elven children, though she was not exactly unpopular. Early on in life she proved to be intelligent and have an aptitude for magic, and when she was 21 a passing human mage took her under his wing, training her.Since then she has mostly been a traveller, settling for two years or so, then moving on, with no fixed aim in life.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 7:05 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 11:23 am
As usual it was two in the afternoon, and Lottie was exhausted, after being awake for just a few hours. She stuggled to sit up more on the sofe and rang the little bell on the table in front of her.
A few moments later Hazel came into the room, neatly dressed in her white and black maid's uniform.
'Yes miss?' she asked, dropping a slight curtsy and waiting for her instructions.
'I'd like to go to bed Hazel', said Lottie, 'can you help me in, then tell my mother I'm asleep.'
'Of course miss,' replied Haxel, coming over and helping Lottie to stand then supporting her the short distance from the sofa to the bedroom, where she helped her lie on the low bed and covered her with a blanket. Lottie was already falling asleep as she left the room, shutting the door behind her gently.
Imogen rode in through the gates of the city, which was almost deserted, quiet, strange. As she rode she checked her sword was close to hand, cities like this should be bustling and noinsy, not like this.
She rode further on, not hurrying her horse, and after a while heard a noise, a kind of buzzing, as she got closer it became a low roar which grew in volume. She identified it as cheering, and was reasssured, she had found the people.
They were in a sort of square, which contained a few building, people were milling around, cheering, talking and singing. She paused on the edge of the square to watch.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jul 05, 2006 9:12 am
finaly, seran hit town. something wasn't right though...
taking an hour to find his way, he made it to the croud and blended in.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Sep 12, 2006 1:03 pm
Username: Tepa Garen the Elf Reality Name: Paul White Age: 18 Location: New York City, 1994 Appearence: 5'3 and a bit on the twiggy side, with almost-red hair that looks like he cut it himself with a knife and no mirror (which he did). His eyes are grey. He fancies that he looks like Christian Slater, his hero, and despairs that his nose is too large. He tends to wear black jeans and t-shirts with snarky comments on them, and his shoes are a pair of ancient, battered Converse sneakers with doodles all over them. Occupation: Writer, artist, thespian, and parttime shopkeeper at a soap store. Brief History: Paul grew up in Warwick, a small town a little over an hour from NYC. He is currently attending NYU, focusing on theater in the hopes of being in movies. Realm Name: Will Merric Age: 18 Appearence: Around 5'5, with a good amount of muscle. His hair is bright red, his eyes are greenish-blue, and his nose is straight and slightly pointed. He wears a leather jerkin over a light green shirt and dark brown hose, with leather boots covered with buckles. Alignment: Mostly good. Class: Rogue Weapon: Twin daggers. Brief History: The b*****d son of a nobleman and one of his tenants, Will was lucky in that he was acknowledged by his father, if ignored by everyone else. Unable to inherit his father's estate due to his illigitimacy, he was trained as a soldier until his father was accused of treason and hanged. He has been wandering for about three months, and is beginning to feel the wear of the road.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
