Original poster
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per week
  2. One post per week
  3. Slow As Molasses
Online Availability
Anytime, I have no life.
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
  3. Douche
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Nonbinary
  3. Transgender
  4. Primarily Prefer Male
Fantasy, romance, slice of life, anti-hero stories, "you're our only hope", fandom non-canons, soft scifi, transhumanism, magical girls, horror, suspense / mystery, detective noir, fractured fairytales

Bungee Inline;Monda;

Important Links

Interest Check - Ø
Compendium (Classes & Races) - Ø
Sign-Ups - Ø
In Character - STONE [ Ø ] - WOOD [ Ø ]
Discord Server - Ø

Cover art: source


@Applo - Sylva
@Childish Grumpino - Kurtlin Barlowe
@CrystalTears - Cleo Wildflower
@Greenie - Kilgir
@SkittlesAndSpike - Ilsas Meliamne
@Wolk - Jorras
"Martin Huntgalery."

Light crept through the cracks of the planked walls, casting the room into an odd pattern of shadows. It wakes up the six members of the Steelsong Legacy, who've no recollection of how they got here or who those other Steelsingers are. Only a name remained on their lips, but it felt foreign even as they tried to say it, as though it was the very first time indeed.

The air that breezed through the cracks of the wooden planks was fresh and salty, and carried the gentle sounds of birds chirping and waves crashing. The pyramid-like ceiling seemed to be made out of hay, and there was only one one door in that seemingly lead outside. In front of it, however, was a disturbingly old Elf, his skin like crunched parchment and his hair so white it reflected the sunlight. His eyes were closed, but in the tenseness of his arms one could tell that he was not asleep.

A few quiet minutes went by, and he finally spoke in a deep voice that croaked with age. "Finally, you're all awake. I was wondering if I would have to remain here another day." The Elf cracked an eye open, which wouldn't have been odd if not for the fact that it was a milky white and unfocused eyeball. He laughed in satisfaction and pursed his lips.

Without another word, the Elf stepped to the side and crossed his arms over his chest, both eye closed again. It looked as though he was waiting for something, for someone to say something as though to challenge him, but he made otherwise not another move.
Jorras sat upright, and looked at the apparently not-so-blind Elf with a slight furrow on his brow. Surveying around the room, he had been trying to recollect any memories he might have had, of the people who were with him, or how he got there, but it left him scratching his head. From the Elf's words, it sounded like he, and perhaps the others, had been unconscious for multiple days. That might well be true, his own sense of time was completely absent.

As he appears to be friendly, Jorras decided to ask him,
"Excuse me, Sir… what is your name? I… I'm not quite sure how I got here, or where I am."
A grunting sound escaped the dark haired dwarf as he pulled himself up into a seated position, rubbing the back of his thumbs against his eyes to chase away any remainder of sleep. Even with his eyes preoccupied, he knew he was no longer in the guild. The cool, salty breeze, the feel of the wooden planks he had been laying upon, the voices he had never heard- he let his hands fall to his lap and opened his eyes wide, only to have them narrow quickly thereafter- the faces he had never seen before.

And that name. Martin Huntgalery. Why was this name spinning in his mind like that of a lass with a pretty smile?

The dwarf named Kilgir looked towards the human who spoke, nodding in agreement to his questions. "Aye," he piped in, voice even rougher than normal thanks to lack of use. "Who're you?" His dark brown eyes left the old elf to glance upon the visages of the others in the room with him. Aside from him and the man who had spoken before, it seemed there were four others. It was easy enough to tell one was an elf, but he wasn't too sure about the other three, save for two being female.

"Name's Kilgir," he decided to add on. No harm in letting people know who he was, right? Better than them referring to him as 'the dwarf' in their minds; that had to be tedious.​
Ilsas flinched, his hands instinctively shielding his eyes from his hand. "Awh hell." He mumbled, his eyes shut tightly as he pushed himself into a sitting position. It took a lot of willpower to open his eyes and more than he was willing to give to keep them open. His eyes blinked several times as they adjusted to the light. "Feels like I had one too many drinks." He chuckled softly and smacked his lips, feeling dry in the mouth. A terrible feeling. "Maybe I ought to have another drink."

Yes, one too many drinks seemed about right. Cottonmouth, sensitivity to the light and a strangers name rolling around in his head. Well, perhaps not that last part, that was strange. Martin Huntgalery. The elf pursed his lips, wiping away the moisture that had collected at his eyes. Was the name important? It certainly seemed so. Why else would it be rattling around in his head so much?

Any further thought he might have given the subject was interrupted by the speaking Elf. One look at him and Ilsas's face crinkled up, though he was quick to erase it in the hopes that he didn't offend the extremely older elf. "Remain here another day? How long have we been out?" He asked, looking away from the elf rather quickly. Ugh, that skin. Gods forbid I grow to be that old.

Speaking of we, Ilsas turned his attention to the others in the room. Lots of new faces. He made note of the dwarf and the human, considering they'd spoken and even introduced themselves, somewhat. At least the dwarf did, anyway. "Kilgir, nameless human." He nodded his head to them, as well as everyone else in the room. "I am Ilsas, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He gave a close-lipped smile.
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Cleo Wildflower

The sound of chirping birds and voices lulled Cleo out of her sleep. Where was she? She was a believer of Selune, a goddess of wisdom, and to think she had no recollection of where she was or how she got there felt a bit strange. Her hand crept up to the hood over her head and adjusted it to rest over silver hair before she sat up with a small groan. The wooden planks had not been kind to her sleeping self, though stiff, it wasn't something Cleo couldn't shake off.

Cleo gathered from the confused looks everyone had that she was not the only one wondering where she was or who the old elf in front of them could be. Had they all been gathered here together? How long had they been unconscious? But perhaps she had an idea, if only that, as a name was still floating around in her head.

"Excuse me," Cleo spoke up towards the old elf. "But how did we get here?" It was an important question. If they had been laying here for days, then what knocked them all out in the first place? And why did she not remember?

Heterochromia eyes shifted their glance from the elf towards the others before she smiled. Nonetheless, if they had been resting here for days, at least it seemed they wished no harm. "I'm Cleo Wildflower," she introduced herself with a polite bow to the others. "It is a pleasure to meet you all."
There's a flicker of something across the haggard, weather-beaten face of the man lying in the corner of the room as he rouses to wakefulness. So sudden and passing so quickly that it's easy to miss within the shadows cast by his hood. For a moment, as catatonia is fading and consciousness is coming into full effect, his eyes are open as wide as orbs and they're young, just too young to be contained within a face that has clearly seen so much.

For a moment.

When he blinks again, they are dark and sunken, peering out from the cracks and lines of his face. Entirely in-keeping with the look and dishevelled feel of the man now crouching in the corner. He gazes about the room, counting the figures present, finally focusing in on the skeletal elf that lurks before the only entrance and exit to this space. The eyes narrow, and the man's right hand tucks into his cloak before seeming to come to rest on something.

He watches and waits, like something coiled tight. Ready to release at a moment's notice.
A deep and rasping voice cut through the quiet of wherever the hell she was and Sylva's eyes flicked open. She had been conscious for a little while now but had been doing her best to appear asleep. Waking up in strange places wasn't a unfamiliar experience for Sylva, possessing no memory of how she got there was though. She had been trying to gather as much information as possible about her surroundings before giving away the fact that she was conscious. Something in the voice however told her that the time for that ruse had passed.

As she stood up Sylva's gaze flitted between the room other occupants, pausing on each face for only a moment before moving on again. It was pretty clear that the ancient looking elf in the corner was the one who had spoken to rouse everyone and therefore might know what was going on. Was he Martin Huntgalery? Why did she even know that name? Regardless they must have known at least something no one else did because everyone else in the room was asking the same questions that were rushing to the front of Sylva's mind. Everyone, that was, except for a dishevelled looking man hunched in a corner who clearly wasn't in charge. He reminded Sylva of a cornered rat more than anything else. Thoughts of rodents reminded Sylva of something else and she hurriedly but gently began patting down her plethora of pockets until she felt a familiar warm lump.

Feeling a little reassured, Sylva gathered up her possessions and subtly moved away from the man in the corner. He looked like trouble and right now she had enough of her own to be getting on with. She chose to stand next to the woman with silver hair and ornate robes instead. They seemed like a safer bet.

"Name's Ursi Hammerchild." Sylva didn't feel any remorse for lying to Cleo or anyone else in the room. For all she knew they had not given their actual names either, which considering the circumstances, seemed like a thoroughly sensible and reasonable thing to do.​
The Elf simply smiled with amusement at the questions directed to him and patiently waited until everyone was awake. Even though he was blind and could not see the adventurers in front of him, he heard the distinct change in breathing from the man who'd claimed to be named Kilgir. The Elf hummed and both eyes finally opened, strangely focusing directly on the Dwarf's limp body as he fell back into the strange trance-like sleep from earlier.

"It appears he was not quite ready to leave yet. He shall remain with me until his time comes." His voice was like gravel, unpleasant to the ear and making the words difficult to tell apart. "My name matters not, all you need to know is that I am a Steelsinger. Upon its creation, I was already older than all of you combined."

With hint of annoyance in the silent exhale that followed the proud statement, the Elf ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes again. There was no need to further unsettle those standing before him. "I signed up with the name Siverilon, but they came to call me Silver. Hmmm..." Rising to his full height, Silver towered over most of those present - he was astonishingly tall for an Elf, and the wooden floor croaked and whined as he made his way towards the collapsed Dwarf named Kilgir. Under his breath, he murmured a few words that none of the others would understand, as they weren't in any language known to them.

"I suppose I will come along for a little bit. Your friend here is safe, no need to worry about him. They will bring him back where he should be." Without waiting for any of them to acquiesce, Silver gently ushered them towards the door, a hand touching and pushing each one of them, one at a time. It was impossible to tell how he even knew where they were standing, and from the amused half-smile on Silver's face he was well aware how creepy that was.
The dwarf had barely hit the floorboard before Sylva had tucked herself tightly against Cleo's body, a dagger sliding into her hand. Through the strands of silver hair, she watched as the old elf stalked across the room towards the prone dwarf. Sylva disliked the lanky old bastard more and more with each passing moment. They clearly knew something about why she had woken up here, and they were not sharing. That chafed at Sylva. If this Silver didn't start explaining things freely then, they were going to find themselves forced too. She didn't care how long they'd been a Steelsinger. Allies who kidnapped you were worse than enemies. Not that Sylva had allies. Depending on anyone that much was stupid. That was part of how she'd ended up here in the first place.

When the elf pushed her towards the door, Sylva didn't hesitate. She hated the feeling of the elf's hand on her, and it was beyond time to get out of this room. That didn't mean that she was going to ignore the habits of a lifetime, though. Standing just to one side of the door-frame she pushed the door slightly ajar before retreating a couple of steps. When nothing happened sidle back towards the door and this time pushed on it with all the strength she could muster. When the door swung harmlessly against it hinges Sylva risked peaking outside, blinking a few times as her eyes adjusted to the relative brightness. Where the hell was she?​
As the others were introducing themselves, Jorras observed intently. Some of them seemed almost delighted with their situation, to his surprise, while others were suspicious of every word, no matter if they spoke it themselves. Admittedly, the Elf was not exactly trust-inducing, and the fact that the Dwarf passed back out did not help. All the same, Jorras' expression did not betray his thoughts, but was blank.

Standing now, he watched as the slender woman was pushed towards the door, with which she had a little encounter before she exited. That same suspicion, almost like a cat that had been mistreated.

It was obvious that Siverilon, which was "the name he signed up with", was not eager to share any more information. Yet.
Perhaps the time would come, but for now he would head outside, not waiting to be lead.
Fresh air already rushed inwards from the opened door.
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