Silencia: The World's Frozen Crown

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by PigIron, Mar 5, 2014.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. Silencia. Named in legend after the cold silence of the snowy expanses that many a traveller has lost themselves in. Sat at the top of the world of Lastaria like a frozen crown, Silencia was long feared as an impenetrable natural fortress of freezing cold temperatures and strange legends.
    But the silent continent is not so quiet anymore. Life, over the ages, has wrestled and fought against the wilderness and carved out a niche for itself in the snow and ice. Hardy plants live under the snow, catching flashes of light once a year when summer melts the snow a little. Animals, strange and wild, run free. And, of course, the sentient races have all in one way or another made their presence known.

    The rest of the world (open)

    ~The other continents of the world of Lastaria


    Al’Garath – A wild, untamed land of forests and ancient battlegrounds. As you travel inland there are fewer forests and more patches of savannah.

    Fýraðr - A Series of mountains and hills from the coast inland, mostly rocky with fir forests around the Mountain bases. There are a few lakes spotted around the forests. Most mountain passes are rocky crags or valleys.

    Stylia - Desert continent with three Nile-like rivers surrounded from source to delta by vegetation. The rest of the continent is known as “The Howling Wastes”, which is what's left of an old great human civilisation after a great magic war. Now all people go there for are the profitable salt flats.

    Race inhabitation

    Al’Garath - Orc war tribes travel all over, and a few settlements of highly militant humans scrape a living off of the savannah, whilst fighting off the orcs with superior technology (early guns, siege weapons, crossbows, etc.). wood elves live in the forest and protect it from other races.

    Fýraðr (dwarven name)– Tribes of wood elves live in the Fir forests, occasionally going higher up the mountain. Humans also live in cosy settlements nestled in the many valleys, both enjoy a steady diplomatic relationship with the Enormous Dwarven population that had made their homes under the mountains. goblins are a constant blight on this land.

    Stylia - A thriving spice industry from plantations around the three Nile-like rivers has led to many wars being fought over these rivers, but now the land is held by the tribe of the red eye, an unsteady alliance of humans and half-orcs.
    The Howling Wastes – The place is filled with the spectres of old magic, and few travel there. Earth golems have been sighted in the howling wastes, but little is known about them.

    The sentient races (open)

    ~Silencia's indigenous races

    Snow elves

    Descending from a tribe of wood elves exiled into the wastes for crimes against their native forests in a time long, long ago, the aggressive Snow elves all have a deep seated fear of wood elves and a lust for penance and duty that has only been sated so far by caring for the rare thickets of solar roses, the sprawling mazes of thorns surrounding the beautiful clearings navigable only by their mounts; the huge blizzard moths, their four impossibly fragile-looking ice wings crashing through calm air and tempest alike, skimming and darting over the wilderness with beautiful ease. Inside the maze of thorns is a clearing sheltered by the warm petals of the solar roses. the heat created by the giant flowers turning snow into rain, and turning the earth underneath them into a fertile and plant filled sanctuary.
    Snow elves are incredibly pale in skin tone, as white as the snow they fly over. Their hair ranges in colour from blues to whites and, very rarely, orange reds that mimic the colour of the solar roses. Their bodies are tall and lanky, though not so much that they look alien.

    Northern Dwarves

    Descendants of an expedition searching for Silentium, a metal that can only be found under the frozen wastes, the northern dwarves are a gruff but not unfriendly people, especially kind to those that know their customs, and have things to sell and buy. The dwarves live in hidden underground fortresses, however those that find them are rewarded with trade goods the likes of which are not found anywhere else in the world. Stoking fires against the raging blizzards topside in their furnaces deep underground, the warm orange light barely visible and the deep roar of the bellows just at the edge of hearing when you near the hidden entrances on the surface.
    The Northern dwarves are the only beings to master the art of locating, smelting and working Silentium, a metal that, when formed into certain patterns, can be used to amplify magical power, store and activate all manner of spells, or, rumor has it, if the Silentium is pure and and the users mind is attuned to such things, allows one to consort with the dead.
    Northern dwarves look a lot like their mountain dwarf cousins, with predominantly pale skin and thick dark hair, except their eyes are all piercing blue, a side effect of living near and working with Silentium.

    Ice golems

    The gentle Ice golems, given two gifts at their inception by the now long extinct wizards powerful enough to raise them; the first gift was life, to never die. The second gift was peace, to never know envy, pride or anger for fellow creatures. these gifts, created by primordial magic held in runes inscribed throughout their body, allow the small tribes to travel through Silencia, saving lost souls and spreading warmth and peace entirely at odds with what one might expect from such hulking, cold creatures.

    ~The other races of Lastaria


    Perhaps the most strange race of all those that call Lastaria their home, humans come in all shapes and sizes, and are known for their comparatively short life spans, companionship that is fickle at first but bound in steel after a loyalty is proven, and their ingratiating charm. They once held large seats of power in every continent but silencia; but now their empire is reduced to dust in the wind, with only small settlements and minor cities dotted around the world. Their last seat of power lying on the razors edge that is the shaky alliance with the half-orcs in Stylia.

    Wood elves

    Elves of the wood are rarely seen by other races under good circumstances. their territorial nature and their staunch defence of their home forests has left them as something of a legend to the other races. These elves are known to be able to use their inherent magic to keep forests and woods at the height of natural order, and, though their magic only works in their home forest, they are still feared for their military strength. Though they are fair, they are also proud, considering themselves above other races, especially the descents of the exiled, the Snow elves.


    Sons and daughters of the roaming war tribes of orcs. A grand majority are brought up in orphanages, put there by parents who did not want to raise a child of a race that knows of naught but war. Despite this, the half-orcs have banded together and exhibit a close bond and inherent trust to those that share their mixed blood. Half-orcs seem to have combined the co-operative nature of humans with warlike ferocity of the Orcs and created a society based around proving your worth to your fellows in acts of cooperation. the half-orcs have a large presence in Stylia, and have begun to accept humans as their brothers.

    Mountain dwarves
    Mead, beer, wine and an insatiable lust for gold, crafting and underground exploration fuel the dwarves. These bearded creatures (yes, even the women and children have beards) are known throughout Lastaria for their proficiency with the pick and the forge. Dwarves trading and interacting with other races is uncommon, but it happens, with many a lucrative trade deal being forged under the great mountains.

    The beasts of the snowy plains (open)

    The water under the ice covered lakes are teeming with fish, and the tundra has many animals, some not out of the ordinary, such as snow hares, lynxes and wolves, to the unexpected such as wooly mammoths and sabre tooth tigers, to the entirely outlandish:
    Such as the
    Chirpers, so named for their curious lilting cry, with their peculiar ears enveloped in casings of razor sharp bone, their head and body, very reminiscent in it's furriness to a rabbit, only larger, clashing oddly with legs that one might expect to see on a small deer.
    or the Enormous, majestic
    Ghua, enormous, bipedal beasts, like a madman's combination of a bear and an insect, forged in the blizzards of the wintry plains, with thick white fur covering a jet black exoskeleton, double jointed limbs like tree trunks in their thickness ending in two razor sharp claws each, and atop its almost comically small head three crab-like eyes atop stalks, ever bobbing to and fro, looking this way and that.
    And the
    Psiotes, Wily little dog-like creatures that use illusion and psionic suggestion to tangle their prey up in a web of their own fears.
    Also beware the
    feral Ice golems, their runes glowing deep orange-red, the magic in them having twisted, corrupting into a horrible parody of what it once was.

    The OOC thread and profiles are here

    Current Players:
    Dache Zephyr, the high-class rogue

    @Kat Noelle
    Nikolas Revender, the arraigned smith
    Merileth, The curious Snow elf princess

    Kelsii Fitz, The distorted dwarf

    @Seth Bloodmoon
    Brahm Tyvash, the sellsword of wanderlust and slapped nobles

    Forhenge: One of the many human port towns dotted around the coast. it's main exports are lobster and tuna. it also is home to a market that sells an array of weaponry bought from the northern dwarves.

    We begin our journey in a time of uncharacteristic warmth on the frozen continent. Summer is in full swing, and the longest day celebrations are in full swing in the port town of Forhenge, the festival tonight will last until the sun does two laps of the sky without going down; two days with neither sunset or sunrise, with all but the hardiest of partiers having turned in or passed out by the end.
    This festival is also, as luck would have it, a brilliant source of information, as drink flows and tongues flap freely.
    Whether you're looking for a guide to help you to find the crown, or information about the wilderness err' the wolves get you, many a partygoer may bless you with a grand tale to fill you in.
    So, is your character a local or a "tourist"? Has your character just arrived on a boat? or have they been here for a time, plotting and planning? Have they met any other PCs or NPCs? I encourage my Players to plan things between themselves, but please add me into to the conversations so I can play around your characters and their aims.
    #1 PigIron, Mar 5, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 5, 2014
    • Like Like x 2
  2. All around Forhenge the sounds of laughter and music can be heard, and at the center of the town it reaches fever pitch. the cobbled square has been transformed into a village of brightly coloured marquees, with benches interspersing them, all the marquees offering excitement and interest.
    Beneath an orange tarpaulin marquee here is a crowd of merriment and drunken camaraderie, a happy inn owner serving beer and spirits from dwarves and elves, as well as a heady mead bought off a recent trade ship. Elsewhere, under a marquee as red as the clouds skudding through the sky, a ring has been erected, surrounded by a crowd of mostly men, yelling and laughing and making bets as two men good-naturedly duel with wooden swords, first to strike the other in the back or head three times wins.
    elsewhere, under a blue marquee a band is playing on various instruments, and men and women merrily dance and sing along.
    The small avenues between the marquees are also full of people, some drunk, some planning to be, and all enjoying the longest day festival.
  3. Silas Rough had not waited more than a minute before scurrying into the crowds of people celebrating in Forhenge, his broad shoulders leaving a distinct trail as the people made way. It was his opinion that after a few days at sea, not being allowed a drip of alcohol over his lips, per captain's orders, he deserved a drink. A drink in a place like Silencia was even more necessary because of the cold, he told himself every time the ship had made port there. In his race to go, he had even forgotten his standing arrangement with the young man that was in cabin number two.

    Dache was standing on the gangplank, trying to spot the sailor that had promised to escort him around, showing and telling all that there's to know about the continent. He sighed and made his way back on board and spotting the captain, approached him. The man was dressed like a proper captain, wearing a large hat and everything. The only thing that had surprised Dache the first time he boarded the ship though, was the fact that the captain hadn't been human, or at least not entirely. The off-color skin tone was evidence to that, as well as the slightly protruding two lower teeth. He was a Half-Orc, the other half being somewhat up for discussion, a discussion he felt too awkward to have.

    "Know where that deck hand of yours is, captain?" the dark haired young man asked, looking up from the bottom of the stairs where the half-orc stood.
    "Probably passed out under an ale tankard," the reply was snorted. "The cur didn't even stay to tie up the sails." With that he turned and shouted at a remaining crew member and walked off, leaving Dache without much more of an idea to where to go. Adjusting his bow he sighed and made his way off the ship and into the bustling people. His green eyes searching and slender body moving swiftly, stopping only a few times to finally find out the orange tent was where the drink was.

    He was to find that there seemed to be heat under the tents, most likely from all the breath, perhaps it was just the extra layer of clothes he donned when the ocean air became brisk. High boots and long, gray pants meeting a white long sleeve shirt at the waist that covered leather armor and a wool frock. All this was topped with a dark cloak. Finally he spotted a bald head at the dipping far backwards, a mug being emptied.

    A smile flashed on the man's face as he ran to the older man.
  4. Brahm had arrived in Forhenge two days ago on a merchant vessel. The cost for the trip had been exorbitant, but he had paid it. After all, he had needed a quick way to get out of the lands of Al'Garath before he came to an untimely end. Perhaps he should have contained his anger when that pissant of a nobleman's son tried to pick a fight with him in that tavern. Oh well, there was no turning back time. Besides, beating the little prick bloody had been oh so satisfying.

    The first thing he had done upon arriving in Forhenge, was seek out an inn. It hadn't taken him long to find a decent establishment, named Wayfarer's Rest, and soon enough he had himself a room. After situating his belongings he had promptly gone down to the commonroom and ordered a round of drinks for everyone present, and a meal for himself. He readily listend to tales patrons had to tell, and shared a few of his own tales from lands in warmer parts of the world.

    The way days seemed to work, this time of year, in Silencia nearly threw Brahm off. It was a little disorienting, but he had quickly overcame the feeling. Of course he had always been one to adapt quickly to new environments. This had benefitted him quite well over the years. Most of his short time in Forhenge was spent carousing with patrons and employees at the Wayfarer's Rest. It gave him the chance to make a few friends and contacts within the port town. Despite the climate being colder than he typically cared for, Brahm was enjoying himself. For now he was fairly content with taking it easy.

    Now he was in the midst of, what the locals called, longest day celebration. It was still a bit strange trying to comprehend the lack of a sunset or a sunrise for any amount of time. At the very least there was plenty to offer distraction from this strangeness. He was decked out in fairly plain, but heavy clothing hued in earthy tones, his heavy, bear hide cloak draped over his shoulders. His sword had been left behind, in his room at the inn, though he did carry the matching set of daggers on his person. A pair of sturdy, calf high, black leather boots carried him through the crowds as the sound of laugher and music carried through the air. In one hand he carried a drinking horn filled with the recently arrived mead. In the other he carried a golden brown pastry stuffed with beef, onions and cheese.

    Brahm came to a stop at the marquee that held the dueling ring, though he had no real intention of entering it himself. He offered a boisterous greeting to a man he recognized from the inn, raising his drinking horn in cheers before taking a long pull from it. As he watched various combatants taking whacks at eachother with wooden swords he cheered on whomever he decided to place a wager on. When his choice lost, he took it in good naturedly. When his choice one he readily offered to buy them a drink. So far his luck was pretty much breaking even for him. All in all, the sell sword was thuroughly enjoying himself.
  5. The noise in the red marquee reaches fever pitch as two northern dwarves, rarely seen outside their caves deeper inland, are announced to the drunken crowd. They appear seemingly from nowhere through the crowd, both clad in armor gilded in gold and matching helmets with peculiar pointed rabbit ear-like horns attached to them, though it seems impossible such intricate shapes could be carved. One dwarf sports a black cape with a peculiar blue symbol. stitched into it, the other a red one with a similar white symbol carved into it..
    "Withuh rrrrred cape, I gif you, Ulfoorr!"Yells an announcer who's more than a little tipsy, filled with ale and good cheer, "And sportin' the blaaack cape, Dulcaaaaah!" With this, a roar rises from the scrum of merry men watching the competition, and the dwarves make flourishing bows to one another, their piercing blue eyes showing glints of humor as they lock eyes, as if they're trying not to laugh. Dulcah's beared is sodden with ale and Ulfor's gilded helmet has a lime speared on one of the horns.
    "Takin' aaaaall bets!" Comes a call from the announcer, and a group of old men wander around the ring, taking money and making notes.

    Everyone in the orange marquee will be able to hear a few men yell excitedly to each other over the music and crowds "The Dwarves! The Northern' Dwarves're fightin'!"

    Brahm will hear an old man tell a punter as he takes a bet; "Yup, they're gonna be using the Silentium alloy weapons, same as last year. should be quite the spectacle!"
  6. It was unbearably loud in the square. Drunk men cheered and laughed much too loudly, women chitted and boldly flirted with those they just met, music played and songs sung. Everyone was so utterly cheerful and... Well... Happy. Kelsii's wandering ice blue eyes flitted over the crowd, easily looking about at her taller height. 'The Dwarves! The Northern' Dwarves're fightin'!' someone yelled loudly. Kelsii gripped her white messenger bag tighter to her side. Some of these crazy people wore lighter clothes, as if it weren't still cold as hell outside. Kelsii smirked to herself. 'Cold as hell' as if hell was cold. It's probably be better to be roasting there then to be freezing here. Taking a better look Kelsii tugged the bottom of her white trench coat, a golden zipper glinted in the light. The jacket was a bit too big and puffy for her, but it kept her warm. What were the dwarves doing to embarrass her kind now?

    Almost as she thought it though, she began to back away. She didn't want them to catch sight of her. She was a freak to dwarves. Five feet tall as a teenager dwarven female? That was ridiculously tall. She had even yet to get her beard! At nineteen! Instead her alabaster skin was riddled with freckles along her nose bridge and the apples of her cheeks. A tight curl in the pit of her stomach knotted and heavied as she backed away. The smell of beer and mead shifted through the air, and she sighed. She'd just have to stay out of sight to the dwarves, that's all. She was famous for her height, it was shameful. Pulling her deep brown braid to one side with her white gloved hand she looked about again, icy eyes staring through crowds and ears perked for eavesdropping. She already knew why she was here.

    The crown. It was the talk of everyone, although most thinking it was just a tall tale in her community of dwarves. It could grant any wish! The wish to be wealthy beyond words, the wish to ALWAYS be right, the wish to find true love... Even the wish to be attractive to everyone they meet. But most of all, it could make the true wish of being just normal come true. Normal sized for a dwarf. Normal faced for a dwarf. Normal thickness even. Although her thinner body was merely because lack of food. Kelsii was someone who would wait days before eating in fear she'd run out. She wasn't really all too prepared for the journey. So her best bet was listening to the locals, the knowledge of all kind, to get hints on where lore said the crown would be. She stayed in an inn and would stay for the next couple days before heading back out. All her money gone to the inn, so she hoped to get some kind of information. Atleast a little anyway, to help her out.
  7. Another mug empty. 'A third one at that!' Silas thought, slamming the empty mug onto the wood table in front of him. Droplets of left over ale dripped from his bushy, brown mustache and by now his large, flat nose had a pink tinge to it. He wore a too large grin and when Dache placed his hand on the sailor's shoulder, the man took a few seconds to recognize him. With a merry roar of a laugh he wrapped arms round the young man's shoulders, picking him up in a bear hug. Some might have expected the man, nearly twice the breadth of the other and no more than a few inches shorter, would snap him in half.

    It was so unexpected that Dache didn't have a chance to protest and the only thing he could do whilst in the steel grip, was imagine the strange sight they must have made. It didn't much help that a girl, he presumed a waiter of some sort (because of the platter in her hand), laughed as she passed them on the way to the innkeeper that was pouring drink. Finally back on solid ground, Dache didn't even get a chance to say something before Silas, with an arm around his shoulders, started leading him in one direction. Silas started talking, more like shouting in Dache's opinion, about how glad he was he found the young man again and babbled about how he would show him everything there was to see in Silencia.

    Dache had met the burly man the second night he was on the ship bound for the frozen continent. He was busy wandering the deck, having no company, when he saw three crew mates seated around a halved barrel, the top being used as a table. They were playing a game of dice, with the premise of it being to out-bluff the other players. It was clear that one of the men, a wiry man he can't remember the name of but had seen swinging about the ship on ropes like a monkey, was the one with all the luck. The other two, one being Silas, was less so, having by that time lost almost half his earnings for the trip.

    Dache supposed that was why the man next to him now was so enthusiastic about, showing him the land. He had promised the man gold, something he planned on delivering once he had enough, and the man was suddenly a spring of knowledge. He had been here a few times he had said, with different ships and new the land like the back of his hand. He had told some of the town Forhenge when they were onboard, but didn't say much more, always saying that he would show all.

    They walked through the crowds, getting jostled and mostly deafened and before they knew it were in another tent. Dache had given up trying to follow his companion slurring speech and focused on a make-shift arena with two dwarves in it.
  8. Brahm arched a dark brown brow in curiosity as the crowd grew even more boisterous. What had brought that on? Then his dark brown gaze took notice of the golden armored, horn helmeted pair of dwarves that made their way to the ring. Maybe the two dwarves were popular here? He had no real idea that the northern dwarves were rarely seen outside of their homes. He really hadn't taken the time to properly research the lands of Silencia. The decision to come had been made in haste, after all. Oh well, at least he had known enough to dress warm!

    He took another pull of mead from his drinking horn as the announcer managed to announce the dwarves in somewhat slurred words. This brought a smirk to Brahm's lips. When one of the older men came around taking bets, he handed the man five silver coins, "Put them on Ulfor," grinning as he shifted his attention back to the dwarven combatants. Why had he bet on Ulfor? Because the impaled lime on the dwarf's helmet had amused him. Perhaps not the greatest reason to gamble away coins on a person, but he didn't care. It wasn't as if he was going to lose, or make a huge amount of coin on the bet. This was all in fun.

    Then an old man's words caught his attention with the mention of 'Silentium alloy weapons'. Carefully, Brahm shifted his 6'4" tall form through those gathered. While the old man had been fairly close, the place was packed with bodies, so it took a bit of effort. Once he managed to work his way to stand beside the older man he casually inquired, "I heard you mention something about Silentium alloy weapons. What is so special about them?" genuinely curious. If weapons forged of the material were special enough he might just need to try and get his hands on some. As he waited for a possible response, Brahm shifted his gaze back towards the dwarves, popping the last bit of delicious meat filled pastry into his mouth, chewed it up, then washed it down with more mead.
  9. The Dwarves Roared out a greeting to the crowd, thanking them for their mead and the generous contribution of lobster and fish for this little display.
    It was an interesting sight, to say the least "Haail! Hail men of the coast! I, Ulfor, and my good friend, Dulcah, are here to, once again, give your fine selves a glimpse into the miracles we northern dwarves toil towards in our cities under the ice!" He paused for breath, and reached to his belt, pulling from under his cloak a rod of the same gilded metal and gold as his armor.
    "Behold!" He raised the golden I shape in the air, and for a moment, those in the crowd that had seen the display last year held their breath in anticipation.
    There was an almighty Whi-crack and the hilt was no longer blade-less. There was an odd distortion beyond the hilt, that to the untrained eye may have looked like motes of dust settling in some non-existent golden sun-beam, and the glowing suggestion of a blade shimmered and grew into a claymore-like shape.
    Dulcah made a similar movement, raising up a similar rod, but it warped into something entirely different. Where Ulfor's light blade was straight as an arrow, it curved, where Ulfor's blade had grown handguards, Dulcah's grew a basket hilt. the result was more similar to a pirate's curved cutlass than any noble weapon.
    The crowd loved it.
    The Dwarves bowed once more to rapturous applause and immediately charged into combat.
    Where the blades struck each other, heat exploded out in palpable waves. the blades shifted from yellow to orange as the light-material felt stress.


    Meanwhile, as the dwarves clashed, the old man that Brahm had talked to began to half-yelling over the now raucous crowd.
    "Aye! Silentium is the reason the northern dwarves travelled to Silencia in the first place! It's an incredible material, as you can see. Sucks up nearby magic and can be forged to resonate with the wielder's will in cert'n ways. Y'know, fer magics and the like. Some say the Northern dwarves use it to store the souls of their ancestors, so's that they can contact the knowledge of their elders any-which-time they like!" The old man gave a toothless grin. "Though if yer wanted anything more that hearsay and an old man's wittering's I'd probably just ask 'em!"


    The swords, clashing once again, darkened from orange to deep, blood red, though Ulfor's blade seemed to be a little darker. Perhaps Dulcah had the upper hand?


    There came a polite (if a little loud, to make an effect despite the rowdy crowds all around) clearing of a throat behind Kelsii. Behind the very tall dwarf stood what looked like a very short boy. Though it was obvious he wouldn't be a boy much longer. his scrawny yet sturdy physique obviously a result of the wild land and a tough lifestyle. "Scuse' me miss, I was, uuh, jus' wandrin' if you fancied a dance o'er by the blue marquee. there's a dance of a sorts going on."


    Another crash, and this time, an odd, roaring sound as the light making up Ulfor's sword faltered and disappeared in a flash of red light, and the dwarf, visibly out of breath, fell to one knee. A cheer went up from those that had betted on Dulcah, and there came a series of grumblings from those that had bet otherwise. Others cheered the dwarves simply thankful for the wonderful show.
    "The Winnah, Dulcaaaahhh!" Yelled the announcer as the two dwarves left the ring and disappeared into the thrum of bodies.
    There came another call from the announcer, but people had started going back to the orange tent and blue marquee.
    #9 PigIron, Mar 11, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 12, 2014
  10. Kelsii pushed back her bangs that were too short to gather into a braid, standing partially in the way and listening in to a mans conversation about the crown. "If I were to find it, you bet yer' ass I'd have wealth and women!" the man joked vulgar and ungentlemenly to his silver haired friend. "Some say it's held at the top of 'at mountain y'know, the tall, steep one. I don't 'levie it though, nah, I think it's near 'em dwarves up north hidden in one of them underground caverns." Her blue eyes were studying rocks and snow on the ground as she listened intently. Mountain, tall and steep? She new where the caverns were, but it wouldn't make too much of a difference if it were near her home. If it was there she'd have to sneak, plus it'd be too easy anyway. Underground had creatures, yeah, but it was also much warmer. If it were atop of a mountain, the terrain would be personally much more difficult.

    Lost in thought and planning, she was startled when brought out of her thoughts. Someone cleared there throat and she stepped aside immediately, hoping not to bring attention to herself by being in the way. Glancing behind her fear pierced her stomach and her blood ran cold. Dwarf. It was a dwarf. Fuck! Pushing her arm to the side she pressed harder into her messenger bag. "Ah." She muttered, clearing her voice from the squeak she had given out. "A, a dance?" Glancing over she placed her hand on her cheek to cover part of her face. "With... Me?" The boy was short, and younger. Not younger than her but more so in general, maybe about her age. He looked like he was able to keep up in a fight, which more so worried Kelsii than anything. Her eyes darted away as she tried to come up with something quick. Nope, fuck, abort, abort! Please don't notice me. "I'm sorry, I'm gay. I've got to go." With that she turned on her heel with a desperate glance about her for somewhere to go. Her eyes dropped on a tent, under it for drinking. She didn't drink much, but it was worth the cover of the crowd.
  11. @Kitty As Kelsii bolted into the orange drinking tent, distracted by the tentative offer from the now melancholy boy, she fails to see the tanned arm of a merry maker stuck out at her head height. She careens into it, seeing it at the last second but unable to prevent an impromptu headbutt.
    The arm jolts, and the mug it held sends a spray of ale suds all over the man, and Kelsii's hair now smells strongly of ale.
    "OI!" comes a grumble as the man turned.
    As wide as he is tall, the man, dressed in a leather apron over dark clothes is built in equal parts fat and muscle.
    "Bloody hells, girl, watch where yer going! Me best gear's covered in ale!"
    Rising from his stool, the man narrows his eyes at Kelsii, his balance a little off, obviously a result of a little too much ale.

    @Cahill Dache sees all this happen, and is caught on the edge of the shower of suds, though Silas misses it, and seems intent to keep wandering towards the red tent.
    #11 PigIron, Mar 12, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 13, 2014
  12. A gasp and heavy breathing broke the silence across the glacial remains that floated not too far from the coast of Forhenge. A beam of sunlight shone into the Pale Elf's eyes, making her squint as she inhaled as much of the fresh air as she could, falling to her knees on the ice as her chest flexed inwards and outwards rapidly, her ribcage showed how underweight the Elf was as she kept herself up, her white hands stable on the ice below her. She continued to gasp for breath, remaining still on all fours. In comparison to the coldness of her knees, the ice below her felt warm. Her turquoise eyes wide as she tried to contemplate where she was, what had happened; nothing, could she remember.

    After a moment of this stillness, Dakiin looked up at the sun above her, midday, at least. On her knees now, she shielded her face with her forearm as she squinted, now rising to her feet and surveying her surroundings, the only thing she could do was swim to the mainland, a mile or two at least. The only other option was- well, there were no other options. The ceremonial gown in which she was frozen in was too heavy for swimming, the elf unsheathed a small, glass dagger from the pocket on her outer thigh and cut off the silk blue skirting which draped to her feet to reveal silk leggings underneath, she left her tightly woven top on, which gripped her arms to her wrists and swiftly lowered herself into the water, which, once again, felt warm in comparison to her icy skin.

    The elf continued to swim to shore, reaching the coast in brisk time. Now mildly startled by the alien wooden docks which clogged up the large river leading inland, she used the ladder to get up from the water, and dripping wet, she walked among the crowd.

    What now?
    #12 Raimei, Mar 12, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 13, 2014
  13. Kelsii turned sharply into the orange tent, her mind hissing at her. Hoping to keep away from the little dwarven boy as she ran she bit her tongue. Damn it. It was always her they were after. It was always the Dwarves that wanted to pick her out of a crowd. They had to be hunting her down. Maybe her mom sent a search. Maybe her father did. Or maybe I'm just psycho crazy paranoid. Ug- suddenly her forehead slammed fairly hard into a meaty arm, it made her stumble back and almost fall. "Damn it!" Her hair whipping against her face and her arms flailing to keep balance, she almost looked cartoonish and kiddish. Steading herself and pressing her hand to her head she managed a loud "Sorry!" before she straightened out and tried to look at the damage done.

    Sprayed with a poor smelling ale, she cringed, the scent stuck to her. Wiping her face and swallowing bitter spit in her mouth she glanced up at the drunken man. He was fat and tall and made her shudder. Not the guy to get into a fight with. Expecially not here and now where attention would be dragged to her. But it was better than the dwarven boy. "Sorry, again. I was just running away from a vulgar man. You understand right? Boys can be so scary." She tried to play the innocent little woman card, as she was 5 feet tall which was short for a human. Although she did have curvier slightly dwarven features. Especially that pale skin as if she didn't often see light, which when young she hadn't.
  14. A low whistle passed through Brahm's lips as he watched the dwarves bring out their weapons. That was an interesting sight, to say the least. Now the question was, were such weapons more about being a flashy show... or were they the real thing? At the very least he was intrigued. So much so that he didn't join the loud hooting and cheering of the crowd, he simply observed with a thoughtful look upon his rugged features.

    In fact, he was so caught up watching that he nearly failed to hear the old man's words. It wasn't till 'traveled to Silencia' that the sell swords dark brown eyes turned back to the old man and he leaned in a bit to hear those words better over the crowd. He took it all in, his expression growing thoughtful once more. What he could do with such a weapon in his hands... Well, alright, he wouldn't do anything all that different beyond charging a bit more for his sword arm. Yes, it would definitely be nice to own such an item. There was a nod of his head at the older man's final words on the matter, "My thanks, friend, I think I might just do that," grinning in return as he plucked a few coins from a pouch on his belt and readily handed them over, "Get yourself a drink or two, on me."

    Then, once more, his full attention was given to the dwarves locked in friendly combat. He still remained fairly quiet, watching intently as blows were traded back and forth. When Ulfor dropped to one knee in defeat, Brahm merely smirked at his luck, though he didn't sweat the loss of the silver coins he had bet. It had been well worth it just to see those Silentium alloy weapons in action! In one final swig, he drained his drinking horn, then tucked it into a handy holder attached to his belt before giving a cheer for the winner.

    When the pair of dwarves departed, Brahm wasted no time in heading in the same direction, though they had already vanished into the crowds. Dark brown eyes attempted to seek them out as he slipped in among the throngs of celebrating people. With luck he would be able to find them, well, if luck treated him better than it had with the outcome of the duel. Hopefully the dwarves would be willing to talk freely about their weapons. He was quite willing to buy them a few drinks if need be. Hell, he'd be willing to do that either way.
  15. Dakiin continued to walk among the docks, her pace was naturally fast due to her being so spindly, in human measurements she would be at least six foot two, easily towering over some here, but she happened to be average height back in her tribe. She weaved through the crowd, looking for any sign of authority; just buildings, and a collection of tents to the West. Since she knew nothing of the buildings, and tents were home-like, she decided to go there. Though maybe she should have gone somewhere else, now beginning to regret this decision as the intoxicated drunks around her chortled on. No matter, a figure of authority must be found. She stood up straight, and surveyed the area.
  16. Nikolas had awoken before the sun that morning, dreading the day ahead of him. He wished with all of his being that he could have just been left alone to work in his shop while the listening to the festivities from afar. He knew from past experience, however, that this was not a possibility. He'd attempted this once before, and had upset the people of Forhenge far more than he had since his mentor, Alec, passed. Something about offending their gods. He didn't want to think about it. So, he forced himself up and out of the bed, heading into the square, which was already starting to bustle with preparations for the day. Ships were landing in the docks; he could hear the shouts of sailors from where he stood. Soon, the dock would be full and the square would be impassable. Nikolas was dreading it. He hated people.

    He wandered the square asking to help where he could, but, unsurprisingly, no one appreciated his presence. Grudgingly, he scuttled into the inn, where Sylvia was bustling around getting breakfast together for the guests. She beamed when she saw Nikolas walk through the door. Of all of the people in Forhenge, Nikolas had found friendship in a dwarf. She'd happened into the shop the day that Alec died, and promised Nikolas to never let the story what transgressed that day pass her lips. She had tried in vain to settle some of the hatred that the locals had toward him, but it never worked, so she'd stopped trying. He didn't mind, either; he knew his place in this world.

    "What can I do for ya this mornin', Nik?" she asked, jolly as always. He grabbed a seat by the fire that she'd already started and kicked his feet up.

    "I was hoping to help get this place in shape for the festival," he admitted. "I'm bored already, and the sun's not even up yet!"

    A sullen look crossed Sylvia's face, and she stopped her work momentarily. "You know how much I'd appreciate the help, Nik, 'specially with the festival today. But the last time I let you linger, Viktor about had my hide! Why don't you go and see if any of the ships need help docking? I'm sure they'd love a burly volunteer like you." Nikolas heard Viktor rustling in the other room, and suddenly feared a transgression with the only man in Forhenge who stood taller than he. He was out the door and at the docks before Sylvia could say another word. It didn't take long to find a crew willing to accept his help, though the half-orc captain had watched him curiously the entire time, no doubt wondering what sort of man just started doing manual labor voluntarily and without pay. He said nothing to Nikolas, though, which was appreciated.

    By the time the work was done, the square was packed, and visitors and locals alike had begun to drink. Nikolas dutifully headed in the direction of the festivities, though there was no joy to his gait. He walked past a few of the sailors from the ship that he had helped, but made no attempts to strike up conversation. He popped his head into the inn, waved at Sylvia, who was already too busy to see him, and walked over to the red marquee just in time to watch a rare pair of dwarves battle it out jovially with Silentium swords. Nikolas had held one before, a long time ago when he was still a boy. A traveler with a black hood had brought it to Alec to sell, but Alec had known what it was the instant he laid eyes on it. He took it from the hands of the stranger just to show the young Nikolas how to tell that this weapon was unique, but refused to make the purchase. He feared what would come if the sword was stolen and the dwarves found it in his property.

    Nikolas shook the memory from his head as he watched the dwarves duel. He smirked at those who cursed when the larger of the two men failed to win. Turning away from the festivities, he decided finally to make his way into the ale tent. When he turned around, he caught a look over the heads of the crowd. Few were his height, and only the rare half-orc was taller. This wasn't what surprised him, though. He was shocked at the number of people present for this festival. It was only late morning, but already there was a larger crowd than he had ever seen before. Clearly, the silly hunt for that nonexistent crown of legend had already begun. He scoffed, ducking into the tent.

    It was here that he planned to stay for the rest of the day, despite the drunken fights that were unfolding in front of him and the stench that these men emitted. A woman tried to make her way inside at one point, but was knocked down, unintentionally, by some burly drunk. He watched the events unfold, studying the young woman curiously. She was funny looking, far too small, even for her age; he was too large for a human, so he couldn't help but empathize with her. He would stand and protect her if the fat man decided it was proper to strike a woman, but made the decision to stay put otherwise. He'd begun drinking, and didn't want to socialize with anyone unless he had to.


    Braigon protested waking before the sun. It was the longest day of the year, and he knew that he wouldn't be getting sleep tonight. Merileth was insistent, though. She had to get out of here before her people started waking and insisting that she spent the entire day in worship under the solar roses. This was the day of the year that the clan chose to thank the roses and the earth for giving them life and sanctuary in this tundra. Merileth didn't understand it, though. They could have chosen any other day to perform this ritual; they could have done it in the dead of winter when it was far too cold to leave the comfort of the village! But they didn't. Their ancestors agreed ages ago that this day was long because it was meant to be a day of worship. She didn't agree. The ancestors were all dead, and today was warm. Nothing was going to stop Merileth from enjoying the sun, not even some ritual.

    They were flying between the roses at top speed when the sun began to rise. Merileth relished in the feeling of the wind rushing against her face. When she was far enough away from her people, she squealed from joy. Braigon ignored her, pushing on. They stopped just outside the thicket, watching the sun complete its ascent into the sky. Who in their right mind would ever want to miss this? The earth had given them this beauty; why waste it? Was that in itself not an offense to their sanctuary? She thought about all of these things often, but said nothing to her peers for fear of being punished for her defiance.

    She smiled at Braigon, who was listening to the human festivities in Forhenge not far away. He had always assumed that he would love humans, what with all of the beautiful things that Merileth had always said about them. She'd never seen one, either, but they'd heard stories. How her people distrusted the humans was far beyond both of them. They seemed so fascinating. She was so unlike the other elves, though. She was unique, and so was her beloved moth. She cuddled up against his side, appreciating his friendship, and he made a noise implying love. They basked in the sun like this for hours until the afternoon came, at which point they chose to fly around the thicket to explore closer to the mountains. Perhaps the rare dwarf would be around enjoying the long day, and they could find some companionship.
  17. Dakiin continued walking cautiously through the somewhat merry crowd and into the nearest bar, sitting at the nearest stool and observing as others ordered drinks.
    "E-excuse me, .. barkeep, a glass of water, please?" Compared to the people here, her accent could be easily distinguished with it's deep and sophisticated tone.* Along with her indecisiveness, which indicated her clear vulnerability and unease. A moment later a glass of water was slid across to the elf, she parched her thirst quickly, looking around as she did so.

    (*Female Benedict Cumberbatch? That's how I think of it)
  18. Dakiin
    Dakiin's faltering plea for water was met with a warm smile and a glass of water from Sylvia, who was watching the empty Wayfarer's rest while Viktor was at the festival selling ale to the party-goers.
    "Everything ok, hun? you're looking a little sheepish. Why aren't you at the celebrations in the square?" Sylvia paused, looking at her lone customer more carefully. "my, you're soaked! here, come over to the fireplace and I'll get you something to warm you up. I know your kind aren't too concerned with cold but even so you should at least get dry"" The maid-come-chef, and now acting barmaid for the Wayfarer's rest walked out from behind the bar, picking up a tinderbox as she went.
    A click click later and a fire had started. Sylvia threw a few sticks on and a single large log and let the fire catch.
    Standing back up and stretching, throwing her short arms out and letting out a little sigh, she pulled up a couple of chairs and gave a little skip on her way over to the bar, picking up a small tumbler of brandy and pouring out a couple of small, measured glasses.
    "Here, it'll make you feel warmer." Sylvia said, passing the brandy as the sat down-


    Brahm (collab w/ Seth)
    Brahm saw the two dwarves, but only because of the crowds of laughing merry-makers asking them about their wondrous gear. They were each making their way through the crowd in different directions. Ulfor, the lime still firmly stuck on the left horn of his helm, was heading toward the Orange tent, whereas Dulcah was travelling towards the blue tent.

    Brahm took note of the dwarves moving in different directions. Well, if he couldn't talk to both he would settle for one. Thus he chose to follow the one he had place his bet on, Ulfor. So he began working his way through the crowds, doing his best to try and catch up with the lime toting dwarf. At the very least he should be able to catch up if the dwarf was going into the Orange tent.

    Brahm caught up to Ulfor just as he reached the orange tent. The dwarf was walking up to the man serving the ale from a large oaken barrel, (a one armed half-orc by the name of Viktor, who usually ran the nearby inn) and reacted to Brahms presence with a nod as he searched for his money pouch, saying "I'll have a tall one please, mate" to Viktor, who blinked and cranked a lever. "uuh, call it three copper. Half price fer yourself, seein' as how you gave us such a show."

    An easy grin played across Brahm's features as he spotted Viktor serving up ale and a nod would be given to the man when the chance arose. There was a nod returned to Uflor, "Drinks on me. As a thanks for the splendid show, I'm Brahm," attempting to pay Viktor before the dwarf could, "I've never seen weapons such as you and your friend wielded in the fight," going about the business of pulling his drinking horn from his belt so he could get it filled, "I would like to learn more about them if you'd be willing to share your knowledge."

    Viktor took the money, nodding to Brahm and filling both Ulfor's mug and Brahms drinks, taking 9 copper for the lot from Brahm, "Well thank you kindly, friend." Said Ulfor, raising the mug to Brahm-


    The piggy nosed man didn't seem to be inclined to let such a naive looking young woman away so easily; Far from getting her out of the situation she was in, it seemed that Kelsii playing the victim had just piqued his interest in her even further.
    The sky darkened as the sun went behind a thick black cloudfront. Looming over Kelsii, the large man's pig-like eyes narrowed, "I'll tell yer what's scary." he began, a cruel grin sliding onto his face "Having an empty mug on the summer solstice. You gonna pay fer the dri-"


    An almighty crash of otherworldly thunder interrupted the man mid-spheal.
    The blue tent exploded outwards, tarpaulin and musicians flying up into the air, shredded blue material raining down on the crowd. the orange and red marquees had their roofs torn off by the sudden explosion of freezing wind laden with razor sharp shards of ice. Young men and women fled screaming from where the blue tent used to be.
    A shadow fell over the tents in the square.
    Dark clouds swirled and blotted out the sun, and the festival of light took a dark turn.

    There came another crackle of otherworldly thunder and the cobbles beneath the crowd's feet began to split and writhe like the sea in a storm, the crowds panic reaching fever pitch as people tried to run but found the earth not staying where they put their feet. The cobbles bounced and rained down, hitting some, breaking bones.
    All around the square the earth opened up to reveal meticulously dug tunnels, and in them...

    A hole opened up in the now empty sparring ring where the red tent use to be. Around it, people stood, either paralyzed with fear or immobilised by the unstable ground. An ice cluster rose from the dark tunnel, marked with a glowing orange-red rune that made the air around it shimmer and blur. the Ice rose up and slammed down, and another followed, similarly rising and smashing the edge of the ring like it was made of matchsticks. They gripped the earth at the edge of the hole, and heaved, frigid arms pulling an odd, icy body up onto the pulverized cobbles.

    click (open)

    The golem stood, stretching to it's full height, easily eight foot tall, comprised of icy blue boulders, inscribed all over with runes, glowing orange-red and surrounding it in a strange magical heat haze. The huge golem looked around with a featureless face, somehow seeing and hearing with neither eyes nor ears, with only a deep orange carved rune in it's head acting as some indicator of awareness. It eyed up the two closest beings, Silas and Dache. It paused, and then, wordlessly, charged, swinging a great ice arm at head height.
    Another Of the icy beasts clambered clumsily from the hole, and turned it's head silently to watch Nikolas, sizing him up as the largest man, and thus the largest threat.

    Meanwhile, at the roof-less orange marquee, the world did it's best to make everyone tumble with a great shaking, the cobbles churning and roiling. The pig-nosed man that had been just about to attempt extorting money out of Kesii now fell, flailing arms going everywhere, (Kelsii may have to watch out to prevent herself form being knocked over by this as well as stopping herself from falling due to the earthquake.)

    A pit opened up, a small group of men and women falling into it, not to return.
    Instead, two more of the Icy monstrosities rose from the hole, the air around them warping with the twisted magicks in their bodies.

    Ulfor swore an oath loudly, dropping his mug and drawing his weapon, fighting to stay on his feet on the unstable ground and eyeing the two Ice golems that had just rose from the earth from a open tunnel a handful of meters away. "Ice golems! Feral ice golems! Hells, I've never seen so many of them in the same place! There's magic afoot, Brahm! draw yer weapon and stick with me!" The dwarf held his Silentium hilt into the air and his claymore burst into existence. Behind him, the colour drained from Viktor face. "Sylvia!" he muttered, and without another word, he turned and disappeared into the writhing sea of bodies towards his inn.

    At the inn, Sylvia screamed as her chair, her, and half of the Wayfarer's rest's floor fell into the floor. she desperately scrabbled at the edge of the hole, but a poker leaning beside the fire place fell and caught a glancing blow to her head, and she went limp, disappearing into the darkness.
    There was a pause, and then a pair of ice golems came thumping up the side of the hole, jumping out and onto the Wayfarer's rest's now half-gone floor.
    Dakiin's chair had fallen into the hole, but the edge of the pit was a bit closer and easier to reach for the lucky Snow elf. if she tried, she could probably make it to solid ground, but the inn was not faring very well in the sudden earthquake. crossbars were falling from the roof, the fire had escaped the fireplace and had set the thatch above alight, and the two feral Ice golems were not being too gentle with the place either.
    #18 PigIron, Mar 15, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 15, 2014
    • Like Like x 2
  19. Kelsii worriedly looked up to the man she bumped into as he spoke of money. That was something Kelsii didn't have much of. Taking a step back she opened her mouth and looked to the ground. Nothing came out, but nothing really had to either. Suddenly a sound similar to a bomb going off under the ice caused Kelsii to flinch. The vibrations through the ground caused her to stumble, then catch herself, only to be hit hard in the shoulder by the drunk fallen man. She flew backwards and skidded across the ice, underneath the legs of a few people and into another woman who had fell backwards. When she fell she yelped her voice high pitched but soft. Crashing to the ground on her otherside she winced. Now one side was going to be bruised from the man, and another possibly broken as well, if not for sure her entire arm would be black and blue. Grabbing her arm she almost got trampled as people began to run, ice splinters falling like rain, one coming down and hitting the end of her pony tail.

    First Kelsii curled up in shelter of the trampling people and falling material and ice, then she tried to flex her arms to make sure they were alright. Her left arm didn't feel broken, maybe fractured, it hurt like hell but she could still move it. With her right hand she pushed herself up, trying to sit,before realizing the ice was tangled in her braid and sticking into the ground it kept her pinned there. Grabbing the ice she shoved, and pulled. Trying to get it up, or break it off. Scraping at it with mittens, she took one off and tried to untangle her hair around it. By the time she got the strands undone and began to struggle to stand and run to the others she was already far behind. As she ran she tried to use her left hand to put her right mitten back on but the pain blinded her and she just gave up and shoved it in her pocket.
  20. (@PigIron, is it alright to control the barmaid for this post? If not I'll edit it)

    Dakiin was promptly escorted to a padded chair of some sort and sat down by the barmaid now, who felt somewhat sympathetic towards the elf. Before she could answer her questions a fire was swiftly lit and soon after a clear container of opaque, brownish liquid handed to her. She looked back up at the fire, "Khers", she uttered, her pale lips barely moving. The Schaelf'churian word for fire, as an infant she remembered being taught English, as well as their own mother tongue. She needed to find them - her family. A pang of sadness struck her in the heart as she held the container to her chest, her shoulders hunched over now as she thought of them. Where had they moved to? Why, oh why did they forget her? Was she forgetting something she'd done, was she oblivious to a dispute she'd caused? No, something so petty couldn't tear them apart; so why.. where were they?

    "What did you say?" The barmaid interrupted her daze,


    "Yes, what does it mean?"


    "What language is it?"


    Dakiin looked down at the container once more, and tapped it softly with her knuckle; a frail noise echoed from it as the liquid within it rippled, what a strange way to drink, the structure - so fragile, could break with the slightest pressure and yet people put it to their mouths time and time again with not the bat of an eyelid, she now smelled the liquid, stale and unfresh compared to water.

    "What is this?" She looked up at the barmaid once more, her long fingernail tapping the rim of the container.

    "It's glass.." The barmaid seemed equally, if not more confused as she answered the elf's question, how could One not know what glass is?

    "And what of the liquid inside?"


    Dakiin gave a questionable look once more,

    "It's like.. distilled wine"

    The elf still had a blank expression,


    She was still clueless

    "I'll just get you a water"

    "My thanks-"

    "Sylvia!" A voice roared through the Inn, startling the already vundreble elf as all too suddenly the earth quaked before her feet, the tiled flooring, along with Sylvia into a sheer drop of darkness, hastily she managed to cling on and claw her way up and stagger outside as the roof fell down around her - a beam fell quickly, knocking her out cold.
    #20 Raimei, Mar 16, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 16, 2014
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.