Alabaster Sheen RP

[NinjaElephant]

The sun rose upon the land of Arcinth, illuminating a land that would soon be cast into darkness. Light scattered across plains, oceans, forests and towns, each one bustling with its own kind of civilization. Unfortunately, not all was as calm as it seemed. A grave event had taken place, one that could change the course of history for this continent. As word reached the castle in Killinton, King Nagon sent out a letter to the renowned heroes of the land. Be they human, animal, or something much different, the land was in need of their help. The letter detailed that these heroes were to head to the capital of Gallahan, and find the General Bruno. Then they would set out on a quest like no other, one to find the glyphs of power...

(For the purpose of clarity, please keep all posts in the third-person past tense)

[Kriven]

Pasque nibbled the end of a carrot. Orange scraps flittered away from his lips each time his monstrous teeth cut through the root. He licked the roof of his mouth, pushing away a chunk of chewed food that had been bothering him. A sound like quiet sniffling caught him slightly by surprise, and drew his attention to a cupboard beneath the sink.

"Eh... What's 'at racket down 'ere?" The rabbit fished a small knife out of his pocket. With a flick a finger the knife was sailing through the air. In just a second the blade had burrowed itself deep into the cupboard door, denting the wood around it. The sniffling stopped.

He pulled on the door, just lightly enough to let it swing open on its own. It creaked loudly, as though groaning in pain. The child's face was pinned to the inside of the door.

"I'll take dat." Pasque ripped the knife from the door. The body fell to the floor with a combined thud and sickening splat.

The hair on the insides of his ears quivered as an abrupt and boisterous trumpeting filled the hovel. Aggravated by the noise, and wondering how he could silence it, Pasque peered out through a crack in the window shutters. A celebration had begun outside. A parade of some kind.

Eager to end the ringing of his ears, Pasque charged out into the street, knife firmly grasped in hand.

[toby]

All Athromir wanted was a nice mug of ale, a table to kick his feet on, and a dark cornered saloon to do that in. Wearily, he approached the nameless saloon in the small town of Ulthro, situated just south of the Jyran Mountains on Arhet Bay. Surrounded on all other sides by the Moshaka Desert, the secluded village is often home to an assortment of passerby, vagabonds, mercenaries and drunks. As he reached for the knob, a trumpet blast filled the air. Instinctively he crouched and, in a movement so fluid and quick it took a trained eye to track his movement, knocked an arrow in the bow that moments before hung on his back. He soon released the aggressive stance when he saw it was a messenger, bearing the colors of King Nagon. Athromir knew these from his time spent in Killinton, which was a viable customer base of his. Everybody seemed to have problems that no one wanted to solve. He stepped down off the porch as the messenger retrieved a scroll of parchment from his saddlebag.

[NinjaElephant]

The scene in the street was a lively one. Children were laughing and smiling, peasants from all over coming to enjoy the parade. There were jesters and bards from all over, entertaining the masses with their colorful skills. Ribbons and confetti streamed over the area, and singing rang through the air like a concussive melody.

Scanning the crowd, a large guard noticed Pasque sneaking through the people. He did a double take, and suddenly realized that this figure was one of most wanted people in all of Gallahan. He considered calling the other guards over, but decided that if he stopped the criminal himself, he would reap the reward. He crept slowly towards his stealthy target.

[NinjaElephant]

"Good day to you sir Arothmir!" began the colorful messenger. "I bring word from the King. He wishes you to go meet General Bruno at Killinton. Time is of the essence!" With that, the royal errand-boy left as quickly as he had arrived, galloping into the desert.

Before Arothmir could process what had just ocurred, the pub door swung wide open, revealing a large, half-orc man, wearing nothing but an apron (and hopefully something under it). "Greeting traveler!" he cheerfully boomed. "Can I interest you in a room, or perhaps some ale?"

[toby]

Athromir took a step back - a big step back. The half-orc towered over him. He didn't sound intimidating, in fact his demeanor was actually quite friendly. But Athromir had seen this act before; he wasn't about to let himself walk into a trap. He looked up at the orc warily.

"I'm sorry, but I must go," he rebutted.

He took several steps backwards, looking the building over carefully. All the windows were closed but one. Eyes locked on it, he slowly moved around the corner of his building. He let out a series of high pitched whistles, and his hawk Nothlit descended from her perch to his shoulder. Sprinting to his horse, in one swift leap he jumped onto the saddle, flipped the reins and was off with a gallop. Turning his head, he looked over his shoulder and back at the building. Did he avert disaster, or miss out on a cheap glass of ale?

[Scotty]

Nuushalin stood at what used to be the front gate of Altsona, the city where he spent most of his youth. The smoke made it hard for him to see anything except the orange glow of fires around him and the ashes fell gently down upon him like the first snowfall for winter. Motionless for a couple minutes, he finally moved. It pained him to walk into the ruins of his childhood, his vision clouded by the smoke and his breathing becoming heavy makes him question if he wants to continue or not. He covered his face with cloth and moves forward down what should be memory lane.

He crouched down and studied the ashes. Footprints went in every direction, arrows laid in the ground, and bodies were covered in the ash. He walked over to one thing that stuck out in particular: a piece of cloth with a blue turtle on it. He knew exactly what it was when he picked it up. It was a baby blanket passed from generation to generation by the Shomanil family. The child keeps the blanket until they become two, then it gets put away until the next new born. Looking up he saw who the blanket belonged to and quickly turned away. A dark figure stood in the distance and motioned for Nuushalin to follow, then turned and walked away. Against better judgement, Nuushalin followed the mysterious figure into the smoke and ashes.

[NinjaElephant]

Guksha sat in his pub, sobbing loudly into a mug of ale. He never got any customers anymore.

As Athromir rode through the heated desert, he noticed three or four men on horseback following close behind. Their numbers began to multiply, and soon a pack of them were right on his tail. The dust they kicked up soon blocked the elf's view of the village which he had left. His pursuers began to brandish weaponry of all kinds, the largest one even wielded a large, spiked flail. They began to close their ranks, and shifted closer and closer the the escaping hunter.

[NinjaElephant]

As Nuushalin followed the figure, he examined the rest of the city. Not that there was much to examine. Houses and buildings had been burned down ruthlessly, and rats scurried every which way. It hadn't been a very large city, but now, whatever glory it had was long gone. Snapping his attention back, Nuushalin noticed that the mysterious being was now gone, with only letter remaining where he had once stood. It was of a thick, tan parchment, and had a red seal with the Imperial Symbol on it.

[Kriven]

"Dis noise is... is..." Pasque folded his ears inward, attempting to muffle the celebration. He was met with mild success. Though the trumpeting and marching and cheering had been quieted, it was still loud enough to keep him disoriented. On any other day, he would have been able to easily observe the situation, but with the blaring instruments not too far gone, everything seemed to mesh together in a chaotic whirlwind of color.

So disoriented was Pasque that he had nearly overlooked the lone guardsman's approach. It wasn't until the man was already looming over him that the rabbit realized he had been recognized. He tried to think on his feet, get a look at the man's weapons, get a feel for his own, but there was too much going on. Too many things distracting him, too much noise dizzying him.

Confused, and in a panic, Pasque felt the density of the situation suffocating him. He could no longer think clearly, could not understand what kind of dangers were before him, could not hold on to the knife in his hand. In a desperate bid at freedom he charged into the guard, forgetting about the man's armor and hoping that his powerful legs would propel him enough to knock the soldier to the ground. In his confusion, he had misjudged, and his intended strength became a feable leap and a ting as he collided with metal.

[toby]

Athromir knew his pursuers - their clothing gave it away. It was only weeks earlier he had taken an assassination job, targeting the leader of the Raiders of Gowan. He assumed they were there to take revenge. Intimidating as they looked, he knew their skills were short. Most would simply give up their riches when they saw the crowd approaching a caravan, but Athromir dug his heels into the sides of his mount and sped south, attempting to circle around them. Leaving only his right hand on the reins he turned to face the raiders, and, closing his eyes, he waved his hand about in a series of intricate patters, as though he was writing on the air. The sky darkened, and a gust of wind blasted the ground. Dust was thrown up all around him, reducing visibility around the raiders to almost zero. He pulled hard on the reins and turned around completely, speeding north.

[NinjaElephant]

The guard approached the fallen Animane with a glint of greed in his eye. The spear he wielded was long and sharp, just the requirements for piercing the soft flesh of his target. He thought to taunt his "prey", since he fancied himself the finest of the royal guard (when in reality he was monitoring this parade because of his lack of skill). Images of glory and money flowed into his simple mind, and he began to fantasize about romancing the princess. Soon, his vacant mind drifted to the not-so-appropriate thoughts that a simple man like himself tends to have, and stood, staring into the sky.

[NinjaElephant]

Just as Athromir pulled out of the dust storm he had created, he ran into the horse of one of the other bandits, trying to cut him off. He toppled off of his horse, crashing into the sandy ground. The bandits then encircled Athromir, dismounting their horses and arming themselves. The largest bandit stood at over eight feet tall, and had a frame fitting a half-giant. He pulled two large warhammers off of the giant boar he had been riding, and screamed a cry to be heard across the land. His purplish face was plump and furious, and his tattered chain-mail armor seemed to do little to protect him. He clashed the hammers together, inciting chips of frost to edge off the both of them, then charged with ferocity at Athromir.

[toby]

Athromir was thrown by the apparent leader of the enemy forces. These were no simple raiders. He could not hesitate in this battle. Rolling right, he dodged the charge. Quickly he drew on the air, muttering to the earth around him. Violently, the earth below him was pushed upwards, and he was flung into the air. His escape threw several of the bandits backwards, as the earth they stood on turned on its side. The sand and dirt fought him, and he knew he could not hold himself on his perch for more than a few seconds. As he released the pillar, he called a cushion of air to slowly lower him down to his enemies as he plotted their defeat.

[Kriven]

The town was small, and the homes were shambled heaps. The roads were uncobbled and blanketed in ash, a result of being so close to an active volcano. Most of the inhabitants were Orcs, Goblins or Animane families. The town was also known to have a large Harpy population. There was something heavy in the air here, something almost foreboding. It was a feeling that had been absent in the other villages. Lufael knew she would find something here, and while it may not be her parents, it would be something.

The townsfolk all had an awkward way of going about their business. Particularly after having gotten glance of her. The children would scurry off, afraid to look her in the eyes, but the older folk would let their gaze linger and their bewildered expressions left her wondering what they saw.

There was a particularly old Harpy man who caught her attention above all others. She noticed him several streets back, peering at her from around the corner of a house. He'd shown up again a few buildings over, again watching from around a corner. He'd followed her through the town in this manner, but she never caught a glimpse of his expression.

The man didn't seem threatening. His feathers were too thin and frayed to do him much good, and the way his legs dropped at the knees said that his bones were weak. He'd been balding for some years, and the last few strands band over his dome of a head were soon going to release their hold. A layer of crust had made a bed in the corner of each eye, and the ring in his left ear tugged the lobe lower than it would have liked to go.

She dismissed the man, assuming he posed no threat, and turned to make her way toward the local inn. It was then that he did something that drew up her defenses. A gesture as she turned. Slow, simple, almost unseen. He was beckoning for someone to come to him. Or something.

The hilt of her sword soon found its way to her hand. She stood like a statue, her head tilted to one side, the man locked in her sight.

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"No good, no good." The horns blasted, crashing through his ear drums. He couldn't muster the strength to fight the guard, to move quickly at all, not with this noise. His legs quivered from the sheer act of attempting to hold him steady.

Numbly he dug into the bag at his side and pulled out a small, gray marble. He threw it into the ground. The marble exploded into a huff of smoke that expanded into a consuming cloud.

The parade stopped as the cloud spilled into the street. The air filled with gasps and murmers, the instruments stopped playing, the guards rushed from their posts. Except for the one that had been laughing. He stopped standing.