RuneScape Forum Archive | Into the Ashlands (RP)

NotFishing

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The Search

The first few people the Drakonians talked to yielded no results. Most ignored the pair, one ran away, and the few who did respond simply shrugged or claimed to know nothing. Until...

"What's an albino?" A guardsman blinked.

Once an explanation was given, the guardsman stroked his chin, trying to recall something. Then he smirked. "A white lizard? Yeah, I might've seen something like that. It had reeeally shiny scales, almost like silver. Oh 'course, that was a long time ago. I suppose some silver coins might jog my memory..."

---

The Brig

"Hard to speak when you're knocked out." The sellsail captain answered bluntly from the cell next door. When she began criticized his crew, he scoffed, dismissively waving a hand. "More than 'alf of them died, and you needed magic to turn the tide. We fought well."

He seemed like he was about to leave it there, but then he continued. "Now you, you're the cowardly whelp who thought cutting down defenseless sailors made you tough. You're lucky that Drakonian stopped you. Else the second man would have spat in your eye, the third man would have forced you to the ground, while the rest would have kicked and strangled you to death before your friends could stop them." Beneath the gold, the Bitter Steel.

15-Nov-2018 03:28:57 - Last edited on 29-Nov-2018 03:00:32 by NotFishing

Inferi

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Name: Aria
Age: 65
Gender: Female
Race: Merfolk

Appearance: With legs, about average height, capping at around 5’5” tall. With a tail, taller, although this doesn’t matter except in water. She has slightly pale skin due to being underwater for her early life, and has long dark hair. Blue eyes. As with all Merfolk, quite attractive. She is not build solidly at all, having a somewhat more fragile form than average.

Attire: Light blue robes and pair of boots to protect her feet. She doesn’t like wearing long pants, as they feel too strange to her still, and although boots are in somewhat the same category, she’s accepted that her feet need protection against the ground.

Weapons: Nothing conventional. She carries a pouch of shard-like metal pieces designed to be used as projectiles, as well as various paraphernalia and alchemical concoctions. She also has a walking stick, somewhere between a cane and a quarterstaff in length, that she uses to assist her walking everywhere. It’s enchanted with a durability boost as well as

Magic: Generic: Mastery
Basic Alchemy knowledge, mainly destructive concoctions

History: A magical prodigy that never really liked magic, Aria was always told how great she had the potential to be. It was undeniable that her affinity with magic was great, just as her affinity for physical activities was...not so great. While her concentration and compatibility with spells was fantastic, and she could learn and process spellcraft better than anyone else her age, just seeing her try to swim was, in her childhood, a painful thing to watch. She was clumsy, and the first time she went to land it took her nearly an hour before she could even stand up. Her favorite thing, art, was nearly inaccessible to her - at least in terms of self-creation - in every way, save for what she could bring to life with her mind. Done in by the dubious doings of destiny.

26-Nov-2018 18:20:49

Inferi

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Maybe it was because of this, because she knew she wasn’t as perfect as people tried to tell her, that she grew to dislike what most people used as magic. In her eyes, everyone wanted something flashy, wanted something that everyone knew about and could look at in awe, and she refused to have that be her.

Instead, she took the form regarded as the weaker, as the more quiet of all, and decided to make it her own. While she would have liked to simply reject her magical talent altogether, she was too stubborn to do so, instead wanting to show everyone that their ideals of “advanced” mastery were no better than what she could do with only the basics. Whether that was even feasible didn’t matter, because becoming just another mage in the chain was something she would not accept.

Somewhere along the way, she realized that she needed to leave to pursue her practice further, and so had to take the arduous task of learning to walk on land. For some, this would be simple; for her, it was a nightmare. To a merfolk that couldn’t even swim properly for years, trying to walk steadily was nigh impossible, and was almost enough to make her give up and return to the waters. However, her sheer stubbornness forced her to continue, and eventually she was able to pass with the assistance of a walking stick. That stick stayed with her up until this day, gaining a few enchantments along the way to assist her, although none are combat based due to an absolute inability to physically fight.

Other: Carries an enchanted canteen of water with her. The enchantment is that it will never become empty, giving her a source of drink to deal with the ever-present threat of dehydration. It looks old, beat up, and rather rusty on the outside, and Aria does not know how old it is. She found it at the bottom of the ocean during an excursion when she was younger, and kept it due to the extremely useful and impossible-to-replicate ability that it possesses. Done in by the dubious doings of destiny.

26-Nov-2018 18:21:07 - Last edited on 27-Nov-2018 03:58:16 by Inferi

George Rozas

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Name: Gerion.
Age: 41.
Gender: Male.
Race: Human.

Appearance: A large man who is built strong and sturdy, standing at 6'3" tall and boasting an impressive physique honed by years of travel, training and trials. Gerion has numerous scars of varying size and shapes, his torso sporting the greatest number of them - marks by blades, claws, even burns can be made out against his fair toned skin, and a section of his left ear is missing.

Gerion has aged gracefully, with few wrinkles and as of yet no grey tinting his charcoal black hair - short and well-kept with sideburns leading into a similarly well-kept beard. His eyes are dark blue and full of life, a warm smile coming to his ruggedly handsome face as easily as breathing.

Attire: Out of armour Gerion is a man of simple needs, sporting tunics and breeches, trousers and shirts, it doesn't matter much to him - functional and comfortable clothing. More often than not he is armoured, wearing a well-crafted set of white and gold platemail that no longer gleams, its once immaculate colours dulled by years of usage yet no less durable. The symbols and designs crafted into the metal make its origin unquestionable, affiliated without a doubt to the Church of the Aspects - but most pointedly the Aspects of Good, particularly Eolus and Klora. His helmet, seldom worn, is very similar to a crusader's helmet, albeit with designs more befitting Eolus. Finally, he wears a thick white cloak with an embroided symbol upon it combining the symbols of the Aspects of Good. This cloak is enchanted to repel attacks, able to stave off cuts and dampen blows - even resist some magic.

Weapons: Gerion is armed by both his faith and his hammer. This hammer is large, wielded in two hands with a double-sided head - flat and unyielding with no spikes or blades, a weapon made to use blunt force alone. It is of exceptional craftsmanship, perhaps dwarven make, with a design on the side of the head of a golden hand raised to the sky - rays of sunlight I am Inferi.

27-Nov-2018 17:07:15

George Rozas

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emerging outwards from it. The weapon itself is silvery steel in colour, marks that cannot quite be fully cleaned away displaying its history of service in the hands of Gerion. It seems to passively radiate a dim light and slight warmth, not even enough to light a small room, but is clearly enchanted in some manner.

Magic: Barriers, Tranquility, Light - all mastered.

History: Gerion was born to a single mother in the slums of Daralt, thus his early life was mostly spent living off of scraps and attempting to help his mother get by. When he was five his mother died, untreated sickness finally claiming her life and leaving an orphan behind. Chances were he would have died had he not been caught stealing by a traveling cleric, who rather than turn him over to the guards instead offered the boy a choice - to be handed over to the authorities, or seek the path of redemption and return with him to Talendria.

He chose the latter, understandably.

What followed was a far better life than he had lived up until that point. With a proper roof over his head, food and guidance Gerion felt a devotion bloom in his heart. The training he was to undertake he would throw his all into, particularly when he was told he had the potential to learn magic. His capacity for Generic magic was... Odd, in that he seemed unable to grasp many of the forms of it, save for one particular area where he excelled - barriers.

But I will cut his years of training short, instead bringing us to the first time he was sent out into the world on a mission for the church - when he was still but a youth of 18, he was part of a small group sent to bring a practitioner of the Forbidden Arts to justice. It was a task far more difficult than anyone had anticipated, the mage having had many years to fortify their workshop before the church had been notified of its existence. The result? Forces raised by necromancy barred their path, and by the time the mage was finally put down their small group had been I am Inferi.

27-Nov-2018 17:07:21

George Rozas

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reduced to just two.

It took time but Gerion put the horrors of that workshop behind him, returning to his training with a burning dedication that marked him as a capable youth. Thus, he was sent on further missions over the years that brought him to various corners of the continent, none so dangerous as his first though, not until his final mission.

In his early thirties Gerion was tasked with joining an expedition, formed by the church, into the Deadlands. It was a long journey, and upon arriving they were near immediately set upon by the undead that made the dead continent their home. Weeks of attempts to push deeper inland were met with failure, the presence of the undead hordes simply too thick for the expedition to find much of anything, and thus they found what they could to pay off the mercenaries and made their return - their numbers culled by over half.

It was here that Gerion decided that he would leave. His faith was unshaken, but he felt that he needed to walk out into the world on his own terms rather than those dictated by the Church. He left Talendria to do what good he could, wherever he went. It was a foray into Dormoor that earned him the hammer he carries to this day, a chance encounter with a talented blacksmith that led to Gerion saving the lives of him and his son. In his gratitude the smith forged a masterpiece of a weapon for the paladin, but it did not become enchanted for another few years. That tale, however, is one Gerion would tell himself.

His most recent trek has brought him to the island of Varia, another place to see where there will always be people in need.

Other: Eh. I am Inferi.

27-Nov-2018 17:07:29

Inferi

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“

Hey, another drink over here!

”

Despite the female voice not rising in volume above the others in the establishment, something in it clearly caught the attention of the barkeep, and within moments he had sent out another rather sizeable glass to the woman sitting down near the end of the bar. With a wink, she grabbed it, tossing him a few coins that more than paid for the beverage. It was more than it was worth, and made it pretty clear that she was going to be wanting more.

The rosy color of her cheeks, along with the empty glasses on the bar in front of her, indicated that she was already quite inebriated, but she hadn’t shown any signs of stopping yet. Surprisingly, as she had taken in more and more, her movements had become more coordinated, and where she had been spilling some of the drink on the counter at the start she was now having no trouble catching the sliding mug with only one hand.

She didn’t have any trouble drinking it either, half of it vanishing before she put it down for the first time, the action accompanied by an “Ahh!” and a rather cheesy grin that had been present for almost the entire time she didn’t have a drink to her lips. It was clear that she was enjoying herself, even with the multiple guys that she had been forced to shoo away since she had taken a seat.

Her conversation with the bartender had shown that she had just come here from Greenhaven, her time there having been spent studying various magic. It was the most obvious place for that, after all, given that magic was so much more entrenched in its structure. That’s what she had thought, anyways, but many of the more prominent mages had been less welcoming than other countries. Jealousy and paranoia over losing their power and influence, she suspected, but regardless of the reason it was irritating and exactly what she disliked about most practitioners of magic. Done in by the dubious doings of destiny.

28-Nov-2018 22:36:44

Inferi

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Flashy and self-absorbed, only caring about how much power and influence their magic could get them...it didn’t feel right to her.

Even though she loved to display various acts of magic, it was never to make other fear her or feel inferior. Most of the more popular forms of art were lost to her; she couldn’t sing, had awful writing, and drew even worse. Her physical coordination was nothing short of terrible, too. Magic was the last thing she had to create anything artistic, and so when she had a chance to use it for that it usually happened.

When he’d asked why she was here, though, the woman had just given a casual, “

Oh, I’m just here to flop back into the ocean.

” and declined to elaborate.

Draining the last of the glass, she called again, “

Hey, more!

”

This time, though, the bartender hesitated, asking, “You sure? That’s a lot you’ve had so far.”

After several moments of intense thought, a mild pout appeared on the woman’s lips and she replied, “

That is an excellent point, and I’m sad you brought it up. Give me that last one I paid for, at least. And maybe another.

”

The drink came, and she grabbed it again, this time drinking it quite a bit slower. It was in the midst of this that a few words caught her ears, coming from a little down the bar. She hadn’t been paying too much attention to newcomers in the tavern over the last little while, and so the arrival of mercenary captains hadn’t really been noticed. She hadn’t noticed the pair that had just entered to speak with one of the captains, either, and it was only now that the rather large drakonian spoke that she even looked over.

It wasn’t even the drakonian himself that piqued her interest - since she’d seen plenty, and didn’t find them all that fascinating or scary, as many did - but rather the mention he made about selling...something. Done in by the dubious doings of destiny.

28-Nov-2018 22:37:09

Inferi

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Perhaps normally she wouldn’t care, but seeing someone dressed as he was, with the little drow trailing behind him - an extremely strange matchup, really - made her drunken self wonder what he even had to sell.

So, she asked, standing up with a grace that she most certainly had not possessed when she had sat down. In fact, the walking staff that she had hung onto when entering wasn’t even used, and her footing was quite steady.

“

Yo, whatcha got? If it’s interesting, maybe I’ll take it.

”

The drakonian turned to regard her for a moment before answering her in a direct and precise manner, telling her the nature of the few things without much embellishment or unnecessary marketing. Normally, that would have told made her believe him a bit more than she would if he had acted like he was really trying to sell it, but now she didn’t really pay that much attention. All that she cared about was the the pair of gauntlets he had were indeed interesting, and she wanted them.

A fair amount of money later - using up most of what she had with her, actually - she was the proud owner of a pair of gauntlets that were absolutely not suited for anything she would be doing. Giving a happy wave to the drakonian and his silent companion, she plopped herself back down on her seat, slipping the gauntlets into her travel sack along with the actually useful stuff that she brought with her. Jingling her money pouch, and grimacing at the lack of noise it made even though she had been perfectly happy when shelling out the cash before, she dumped it into her bag as well before finishing the last drink on the counter in front of her. Done in by the dubious doings of destiny.

28-Nov-2018 22:37:29

NotFishing

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The Beer Quest

The tavern Octavius went to, coincidentally, happened to be the same one Vanick went to for recruitment. While it wasn't one of the better establishments in the town, it wasn't one of the worst either, resting somewhere in a respectful middle ground, and was exceptionally large.

It was fairly busy. A handful of ship Captains and First Mates were seated at various strategic points in the room, promising riches and adventure for any who joined them. Others - sailors who were enjoying their time off - drank, ate, and bantered noisily. Others did not drink, and instead sized the captains up, looking for employment. A bard played a sea shanty, and several patrons were singing along.

Despite all the activity, there was still a pair of open seats, and Octavius and Annie might be able to seize them if they were quick enough. It would not be easy, however - two other men, a guard and a sailor, were heading in that same direction.

---

Vanick was evidently displeased as the Drakonian turned away. Though he had the decency to shake the lizard's hand, the moment Wulvash walked away the mercenary captain dropped down to the chair with a scowl on his face. Wulvash had every right to turn away, of course, but that didn't mean Vanick had to be happy about losing one of his best fighters. Heck, he had even been thinking that Wulvash might be Lieutenant-material...

"Chin up, Commander!" Lieutenant Joric Ironfist said, a broad grin on his face as he slapped Vanick on the shoulder. Meanwhile, Quartermaster Sarah struck two names off a list.

Then Joric looked up at the rest of the room, and stood up on a chair, stomping his foot for attention. Beneath the gold, the Bitter Steel.

29-Nov-2018 02:56:01 - Last edited on 29-Nov-2018 03:02:52 by NotFishing

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Into the Ashlands (RP)