Anything Happens

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Xindaris, Feb 8, 2011.

  1. Yellow eyes survey a field of dismembered corpses in various degrees of decay. A corpse rises up, and the eyes' owner laughs. "Gwahaha! You still think you stand a chance? Foul zombie, the prize for your tenacity is a trip to the moon!" With a swift kick to the chin, the wolf-man knocks the zombie's head into the sky, and the rest of the animated body shrugs and falls over, giving up.

    The wolf-man's wearing no shirt, but at least he's got pants on. "Okay, they're all dead. You can come out now!" he calls to somebody, or perhaps nobody.


    The Rules:
    -This RP is all about what happens, what happened, and what's going to happen.
    -Anything can happen if you describe it happening well enough.
    -Things left vague by you can be filled in by other players.
    -There is no limit to the number of characters or places concurrently being described.
    -Please try to be courteous to other players. We don't want to incite flamewars and ragequits here.
     
  2. The tall, thin feline Anthro slowly steps out of the shadows, a long sword gleaming in his hand. He pants after having just killed his own share of the hideous undead beings. He can sense the werewolf's strength and admires that strength. He bows to the were and purrs, "I am Aragon, son of Adara, the leopard. I would hope that I can join you against these undead ones."

    He sheathes the blade and stands straight, chanting very softly under his breath, causing the wards to grow around the pair. He waits for any reply the wolf will make.

    -------------------------------------------------------------------

    The scream of pain pierces the night air, hitting the sensitive ears of a small dog, setting it to barking. The scream emanates from an old castle, where a young elf-man is being beaten badly. He is bound to a set of hooks that are fastened to the ceiling and the floor of a cavernous room.

    The being that is beating him cannot be seen. Anyone looking with the unaided eye would only see a whip moving on its own accord. With each stroke of the whip, the scream increases in intensity. All hope for release has left the captive.
     
  3. "Well met, then," answers the werewolf, and attempts to firmly shake Aragon's hand, abandoning the effort only if it's completely ignored. "Th'name's Ubero. They've got no direction, just ambling about at random. Whatever necromancer or alchemist unleashed this trouble either didn't know what he was doing, or didn't intend it in the first place."

    He wrinkles his nose just a bit. "Though this part of the wood reeks with the dead, they aren't moving anymore. I was heading north to meet somebody before this mess started."


    ((Ubero is pronounced "you-bear-oh"))
     
  4. Aragon shook the proffered hand, and smiled weakly, saying, "That alchemist is the one known as Parnaow. He's the only alchemist that has the experience to do something like this. Anyway, they carry his magic signature." He indicates a corpse with a warped star on the cheek. "All of the beasts I've battled have that sign. If you will allow it, I would travel with you. I offer my sword and my friendship, as well as my magic."

    He purred still.
     
  5. Erienna shivered as she crossed the field of dead bodies, one hand covering half of her face in an attempt to drown the rotting stench. Disgusting, she thought as the bloodied ground sank around each fresh step she took. Her body tingled with an ache of magic; it surrounded the slew of limbs. Something that wasn’t quite human had been here – or was still here. The idea that something may be lurking about, well, it made her muscles tense with a dreaded familiarity. It was only then that she saw two figures near the edge of the field.
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    There was no way to sneak upon them, no less hide from view. Her fingers from her open hand slid to the back of her hilt. She couldn’t tell if these figures were enemies she should fear or friends that she could rely on. Erienna, of course, wasn’t taking chances.<o:p></o:p>
     
  6. Ubero nods to Aragon. "Well, I don't have any way to look where this Parnaow went. Guess we could always just look for more zombies to punch out. Come t'think of it, where would you even find so many bodies free for the taking? Are there any fresh battlegrounds around here?"

    He notices someone else a ways off, and waves briefly in her direction but doesn't accompany the wave with words.


    Meanwhile, elsewhere:

    A young woman with unusual ears and eyes travels a path cutting through a forest with a long-time friend. They are on their way to see somebody who they believe can help. It's a fairly relaxed travel; they talk and laugh along the way. She stops abruptly, becomes quite silent, and draws her sword; the advantage of having huge ears is knowing sooner than anybody else when an ambush is coming.

    ((In case it isn't clear, I hope/expect other players to be the young woman's friend. The action involving Ubero, Aragon, and Erienna is still going on, of course. Oh, and yes it's permissible to use a picture in lieu of a physical description of a character, weapon, artifact, or monster. Replacing entire scenes and actions with pictures or video would be taking it way too far, though, so please don't do that.))
     
  7. It was such a shame that the little corpse fiasco didn't last longer. Watching the few idiots fighting their way through was quite amusing for a short while. The wolf man was a bit cocky, but he certainly showed potential. By the end of it the wolf-boy was joined by a male cat-boy. How suiting, a dog and cat fighting side by side! The thought simply made her grin in amusement. Her gaze drew toward another figure approaching, much smaller in stature, it was a young girl. My, my, how a little mischief causes such trouble. She thought to herself.

    The woman was one with a shapely figure and well endowed features. Her skin was pale, and rivaled the moonlight, accented by long, wavy, silk black hair that swept down to her waist. Her form-fitting attire was in hues of black and dark purple, a hooded cloak resting upon her shoulders, the hood down. Scanning the scene with her ice-blue eyes, she sat cross-legged on the edge of what appeared to be a rather large tomb-stone nearby. Real or decorative, it didn't matter.

    "Well, that certainly was entertaining, though I must say whomever decided to raise the dead certainly did a poor job of it" a soft moan came from nearby as the ground shook and a head idly popped from the loosened ground nearby her feet. Sighing, she extended her leg and kicked the mostly decapitated head off as it rolled down a small slope in the direction of the female. "Pitiful." she stated with a soft chuckle before lowering herself back to the ground and brushing dirt from her clothing.

    The strange female's name was Lamia, and she certainly was an interesting individual.
     
  8. Aragon walked slowly beside the wolf. "I really don't know. Unless.... Unless he took them from the graves of the victims of the Great War. I can see that being possible." He acknowledged the human female with a nod and continued walking. "I fear we are headed in the exact direction of Parnaow's stronghold, and we have few allies."

    -----------------------------------

    Still hanging from the chains, but no longer being beaten, Niconas the elf gathered all his strength for a simple summons spell to assist him, but found only enough to broadcast a mental request for help. This he did, shouting with his mind, "CASTLE OF PARNAOW, DRANCON MOUNTAINS! I AM CHAINED! HELP!" That was all he could say before the loss of strength knocked him out.

    Little did he know, his broadcast was exceptionally strong.
     
  9. One of the figures had stirred, a quick flash of movement in her direction. It took her a moment to realize that he had been waving towards her. The other had just as hastily acknowledged her before walking away. She breathed a short sigh of relief, though, didn’t dare loosen her hold from her weapon. Erienna had started walking toward the two figures when she heard a sort of crack beneath her foot. The girl had automatically glanced down at the ground before snapping her eyes shut.
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    She shouldn’t have looked; her stomach twisted. A bodiless head was staring at her, now crushed from her weight and with an imprint of her size 7 boot. Erienna made a hasty retreat and nearly ran over to the small group before her stomach could make another overturn.
     
  10. The werewolf gives a hearty laugh. "Gwahah! If you're strong enough you need no army. Anyway, I heard someone else over that way." He points off to a side, a short ways uphill, then gets out of the way of the girl charging (or rather fleeing) in the pair's direction. "If this luck keeps up we'll have met fifty people before we walk two steps in the castle's direction."

    Then the mental transmission hit the area; at the great distance, even the loud shout was reduced to a distant, vague cry, the only discernible words being 'Parnaow', 'mountain', and 'chained'. The werewolf shakes his head. "As I said..."
     
  11. Lamia glanced toward the group a moment, her arms crossed, as she contemplated what she would do next. She was rather bored, and the idea of following this ill put together group was of very low interest to her. It wasn't long after that a shout for help rang through her head. Though distant, the message was clear. Castle of Parnaow? hmm that was relatively close if her topographical memory was correct. Drancon Mountains? hmmm interesting perhaps. Chains...now THAT caught her attention. Chains generally meant torture, and torture generally meant entertainment. The last part about help she sort of glossed over, or interpreted as her helping with torture. Either way, it gave her a new objective.

    Turning her head she realized she'd have to pass by the rag tag threesome of mis-matched underlings. Well, had to do what she had to do. Brushing a wrinkle from her outfit she extended her right hand as in a small plume of smoke a decorative staff with a clawed hand clutching a dark crystal appeared. Taking hold of her staff, she walked forward, her hips swaying seductively from side to side, toward the group below.


    ~~~
    A young fairy girl fluttered nearby the young woman with cat-like ears. She was one of the three friends who was busy chattering mindlessly. Even though she was a fairy she generally took on a larger form, and was currently only a little shorter than the young woman who had now stopped and drawn her sword. Fluttering her wings, the young fairy tilted her head to the side, her purple hair tumbling into her face, "Is something wrong? do you hear something? Are we going to come under attack!?" she became quite nervous and landed on the ground rushing behind her friend and ducking in cover. The young fairy was quite a coward, but her healing abilities were quite exceptional and if she gave herself credit she could be quite a skilled fighter. Instead she cowered behind her friend and waited.
     
  12. The girl kept her eyes closed as she slowed down her pace. It was only then, when Erienna had caught up to the unlikely pair, did she catch the end bit to their conversation. Her brows knitted in a twit confusion, looking between the feline and the wolf. There were no castles near this area – not that she had seen, anyway. And wouldn’t a castle be obvious in this region?

    “Castle?”

    It came out as a slight croak, her own voice sounding foreign against her ears. How long as it been since she last said a word, since she last ran across someone – anyone? She counted silently to herself, fingers tapping against her body. Two weeks. Erienna frowned. Had it really been that long? The last place she had been was - she closed her eyes in concentration - was Vedrell, and that was only to restock provisions. Even then Erienna had only mumbled a couple of generic lines to a few shop keepers.

    Before Erienna drowned herself in thought, a voice barged through her mind. A distress call? Her head snapped up, looking for the source of the disturbance. It was then she noticed someone walking – well, more like hypnotically slinking – towards the eclectic group. <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p>
     
  13. "Eh? You're right miss; he said stronghold, not castle. Don't know where that word came from." He looks to Aragon once again. "Anyway, since you know of the man, I presume you know which way we're going here?"
     
  14. A grim smile threads its path along the maw of the feline. He sighs, and winces, "Unfortunately, I do. I was in his grip for the better part of a year." The memory of that painful period causes his face to show the dismal feelings in his heart. "We travel due north until we pass the River Village at the mouth of the Snake River, then we ford that same river and head North east along the same river. A day and a half walk from here, if my memory serves."

    He nodded to the girl. "It is indeed a castle, but it is so well fortified, it is also a stronghold. I almost did not escape. I was incredibly lucky."
     
  15. Lamia was within hearing distance when the feline male spoke of the directions. It was soon after that she met up with the strange, group, stopping a moment and watching them all quietly, "I could not help but over hear your conversation on travel. I too am heading in that direction" she gave a soft smile to the two men, and her eyes also moved to glance at the girl, "might I join you?" her voice was gentle and almost had a purr to it the way she spoke and rolled her "r"s
     
  16. The crunch of fallen leaves kept complete silence at bay, each footstep fell softer than the last as Balian moved through the forest. His mouth was dry, it had been three days since he'd came across anything close to fresh drinking water. The last few nights had been spent creeping through brushes, bogs and dried up riverbeads dodging the hordes of undead which crossed the main roads and pathways through the forest. He knew instantaniously that questions 'why' or 'how' would be pointless, so he'd settle for survival, which wouldn't last much longer without water. His entire attire was coated in dried mud and probably worse and although he didn't mind for the moment, the stink was becoming unbearable. He paused to curse the Gods for the third time in the last hour or so, before continuing on his journey to the Southern boarder of the forest. In his reasonably long life he travelled the world, seen his fair share of monstrousities, abomonations and death. He'd made a name for himself as a Ranger and guarded the boarders of his homeland for just under a century, now however...he had no home left to defend. It died, along with her.

    The forest's beauty had been ruined by autumn, and now the bare tree's stood like crooked shadows below the grey sky. The forest floor was coated in various tints of orange, red and brown and any noise was drowned out by a strong North East wind.The inhospitable land was no further tainted by the presance of an undead menice, of which he could be sure corresponding governments knew nothing about. Balian continued heading due south, winding around straggling groups of undead, varying in size, making his way towards the forests edge and hopefully The Lion River where he'd re-fill his waterskin and continue his travelings.

    ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________



    3 Hours later - Southern Forest Boarder - The Lion's Riverbank


    The rushing river was almost deafening. The current had been too strong to cross at the bank Balian had came upon so he'd travelled further North to the River's head. Now, the calm and still water filled his waterskin's and soaked his mud-covered face. He bathed for a few minutes before re-dressing and crossing to the Western Bank. After a brief stop for food he wrapped his cloak up and tied it to his backpack beside his bedroll and continued onwards. It was several minutes later when the sound of people nearby brought him to a sudden stop. He drew his longbow and strung an arrow. With renewed vigour he dashed towards the clearing the sounds were coming from.

    "I could not help but over hear your conversation on travel. I too am heading in that direction, might I join you?"

    He stopped by a small thistle of brush and listened, catching what seemed to be the tail-end of a rather beautiful womans approach to the band of unlikely companions. He diverted his eyes from the group and dropped his head to look at his bow, it seemed unecessary now, however he'd been surprised before. He had been intrigued by the group and although he had no intentions of heading anywhere but South...he would follow. Even if from a distance.
     
  17. "Sure, miss. More the merrier," answers Ubero with a grin. "We'd better start moving if we're going to get to the place in less than a month, aye?" For his part, the werewolf is quite pleased to have stumbled upon a decent adventure on his way. He supposes that punching out undead turned out to be a very worthwhile choice of physical exercise; going around the horde would certainly have proven foolish. His task in the north is not pressing, after all, just a bit of curiosity.

    With that, the werewolf begins walking north, not checking who's following and not stopping unless someone asks him to.
     
  18. Erienna had been staring at the strange newcomer. The exotic woman was almost mesmerizing. The only thing that tore her attention away from her was that he started walking away from the group. She turned on her heels to follow, two of her strides matching the stranger’s. She realized how small she was in comparison just then – a whole two heads shorter. Erienna bit her lower lip, clearing her throat.
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    “Excuse me, but I still don’t understand. Do we know what we’re walking into – I mean, we can’t just storm into the place – this castle?” <o:p></o:p>
     
  19. Lamia nodded faintly as the boy announced that her traveling with them would be of no hinderance. Stopping, she leaned on her staff a moment waiting to see the others reactions. She felt the eyes of the young female upon her and her eyes slowly moved to glance her way. The boy soon began to move, not bothering to voice himself much and simply expecting everyone to keep up. He certainly had an agenda. It was almost tiring to Lamia, but she remained silent and took up toward the rear of the pack. the young female then spoke, "Excuse me, but I still don't understand. Do we know what we're talking into -- I mean, we can't just storm into the place -- this castle."

    Normally, Lamia would remain silent in these situations, but she couldn't help but speak up once more. Her voice carrying over the others somehow, "From the sounds of the distress call I doubt walking up and knocking on the door would do us much good. However, I prefer to call it entering on our own will instead of storming. Part of the adventure is making it up as one goes, no?" her lips curled into a faint smile making it hard to decipher what exactly she was thinking. Her intentions, at least, seemed as if she wanted to 'help'. No, her intentions were to help herself only and have a little fun along the way. Maybe find a meal out of all this. That would be nice, yes. It had been such a long while since she'd properly fed, she deserved a good meal. The smile remained on her lips at that thought.
     
  20. Aragon looked at the others. "I cannot tell how to get in, but I will do what I can. And I shall not be stopped. If you wish, travel along. The beast who did this shall pay. With that, he continued on his way."

    (Short post, but I could think of nothing else.)