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Noctis the Devious

Of Lies and Stories
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. Multiple posts per week
  2. 1-3 posts per week
  3. One post per week
  4. Slow As Molasses
Online Availability
Sporadically, Though out the Day
Writing Levels
  1. Give-No-Fucks
  2. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. No Preferences
Genres
- Modern/Magical/High Fantasy
- Paranormal
- Romance-ish
- Supernatural
- Original
- Fandom
- Action
- Adventure
- Espionage
- Apocalyptic
- Alternative Reality
- Genre-Bent Reality
- Steampunk
- Cyberpunk
- Dieselpunk
- Magipunk
- Sci-fi
- Superhuman
  • Pseudo-Medieval Fantasy/High Fantasy
  • A Forest of Death
  • Subjected to be edited at any time.
    No God Modding (killing a boss or completing a quest in one post, being invincible)
    No Power Playing (taking control of a character, taking OOC info and implying it to the IC)
    Keep Romance to a Minimum
    Please Use Proper Spelling and Grammar
    No Killing off a Character without Written Permission

As an aimless wonderer or as a party you happen across a dreary forest full of dead trees, dried foliage, and reeking of decay. You could have sworn you only took two steps pass the tree line with the intention of cutting your journey to the next village short a few days only to turn around and find yourself suddenly engulf in the foreboding lands. Evil forces are at play but the only thing you can do now is humor them and venture deeper, keeping a straight trail in hopes of finding an end to the sprawling forest of death. It feels like hours before you find the first hint of another living thing in the form of a foot print. It's fresh and by the looks of it the being is barefoot. You consider following after the trail only to have a young woman wearing a tattered tunic dress barrow by you in a blind panic. You stand there looking after her, watching her track through the forest only to have her pass you once more. You quickly realize she's running in circles in a blind panic. The third time around is when she notices you and she stops dead in her tracks, breathing heavy and eyes wild as she finally speaks in airy tones, "I'm not a witch."
 
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Kilo looked up at the woman in consternation. The dark-haired dwarf had not suspected her of being a witch, but of being a lunatic. And now the possibility seemed even more likely.
"An' I ain't a beaver," Kilo retorted, "If'n yer not lost, ye could direct me outta this mis'rable place. Trees'r bad enough, but this place-" Kilo interrupted himself, "Ah had a guide, got separated back a ways though. 'Twasn't my idea ta take this path."
 
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The woman gave him a strange look, wondering what a beaver had to do with anything. Suddenly, she threw her arms up in the air and shouted, "No! Don't you see? We are trapped! There is no way out. No way. No way..." She swayed on her feet as her wild eyes took on a distant look. "Don't you see? We are trapped for good. No way out. It's a prison. My prison. Your prison. We are trapped for good. No way out." She turned away from the man and was met by the seemingly straight path that appeared to her as eternity. "I keep running, but there's no way out..."
 
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Cain sat by a just smothered campfire, staring at the smoke as it slowly faded away. His pointy elf ears perked up at the sound of voices in the distant brush. Cain's lips pursed and his nose was scrunched, the smell of the forest disgusted him, and made his stomach turn. His eyes darted from left to right, his ears twitching slightly to analyze the direction from which the voices were coming from. He had been wandering the forest for days with no direction, which was odd for an elf. The forest was his natural habitat, any forest should be easily navigated for him. 'This forest ... is different. It's repulsive, in sight, smell, even the taste of the air...' he wondered as he began to quickly move in the direction of the voices. One hand gripped tightly onto his bow nervously as he approached two shadowy figures ahead of him ...
 
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"Confound it!" the dwarf shouted, and stomped on the ground, "'tain't no use talkin' with you. Yer givin' up afore ye started. 'Course ye won't find a way out, ye keep runnin' in circles!" Kilo wondered how the woman could be so daft.

"So ye don't know the shortest way out," Kilo continued, "if'n we go straight we're bound ta reach the edge in time." It was simple logic. Walking straight was the most sure way to escape any forest. Kilo was a dwarven prospector, so keeping a straight path shouldn't be a problem. Of course, underground there are fewer trees in the way and one can always tell the curve of a tunnel by the way the light shined...but Kilo didn't let that perturb him. Straight was straight, and he knew how to go straight.
 
Cain let out a soft breath of relief , he had found the person he had finally been looking for, Kilo. He loosened the grip on his bow, and inspected the dwarf from head to toe. ' I think his mentality of the forest is about as the same as his one with the dwarvern caverns and caves ... ' he thought. Stiffening up, he approached the two and cleared his throat. His voice like any elf's was soft, but enchanting enough to draw anyone's attention. " Kilo ..." he couldn't help but stare at the woman from the corner of his eye. " ... madam." His gaze returned to Kilo. "I believe if you hadn't gone running off we would have had more clarity on the situation of where we were at the time we were together. I didn't expect you to scamper off when the fog rolled in, or is a Dwarf's eyesight as short as his temper? " He smirked, he enjoyed teasing Kilo, but it was a friendly poke.
 
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"B-but I have have been going straight, haven't I?" the woman asked as she rung her hands nervously. She glanced between the dwarf and the path she had been following looking quite bewildered; obviously the forest had been playing tricks on her mind. "It just keeps going and going-" The woman jumped when she suddenly heard a third voice call out to the dwarf and looked toward yet another new comer. As he spoke, she glanced between the two males and hopped from one foot to another anxiously.
 
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Kilo looked at the woman oddly. Couldn't she tell she wasn't going straight? She had passed her own tracks. "You keep going and going," Kilo muttered in response. He was about to suggest leading her out when the elf joined them.

"I didn't run, I trotted," Kilo retorted with a huff, "in tha direction ye pointed. 'Twasn't me got lost in tha fog." He folded his arms and looked up at his guide. "Still think ye know tha way through?" Kilo asked, and nodded toward the woman. "This'n seems ta think we're inside a globe o' forest."
 
Due to his keen sense of smell as an elf, Cain scrunched his nose every now and then. The foul scent of the air continued to plague him, his brow furrowed downward slightly in discomfort. Glancing every now and then at the witch like woman from the corner of his eye, Cain tried to keep his gaze on the woods around him. He felt uneasy, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up in response to this feeling. An elf could feel small changes in the air, even areas as putrid as this one. Something ominous was lurking, he could feel it in his bones. He resorted to holding his bow again, grabbing a hold of two arrows loosely in between two fingers. Cain's eyes darted from left to right, it isn't often that an elf, especially himself felt nervous.

He turned his gaze to the woman. "How long have you been here, and have you seen other beings or creatures? Who exactly are you, and where do you come from? "
 
The woman continued to look between the dwarf and the elf, still anxious. Standing still like they were felt dangerous and the fact the elf held his bow at the ready didn't do much to ease her worry. At the question of how long she had been there, she stilled, eyebrows furrowing in confusing. How long had she been running for? Hours? Days even? Her dress seemed to suggest a longer time than that. "I... I'm not sure," she answered hesitantly, as if worried the elf would get mad if she replied wrong. "No, I haven't crossed paths with anything other than you two." She paused once more when her name was requested of her. What was her name? Her expression took on a deep look of concentration as she mulled over the inquiry. "Ethal?" The name rolled off her tongue experimentally. "I-I'm pretty sure that's what I was called..." She took some more time to gather her thoughts before answering the last question. "I- There should be a village. Yes... A village not too far from the outskirts... But where?" She looked around like a lost child trying to recall which direction she took to get where was currently.
 
"If'n ther be a village, we'll go ther," muttered Kilo obviously, a bit tired of his lack of progress. The dwarf stretched to the sides while asking, "Well, elf, are ye or tha Ethal gonna lead us outta here?" One big-folk was as good as the next to Kilo, and they were likely equally lost. The forest still gave the dwarf the creeps, and he was eager to move on.
 
Marten, knight of the Order of St. John, walks. And walks. And walks. He's been walking for days, and it seems that for however long a time he tries to walk in a straight line, still does the path lead him... nowhere. Or everywhere. He feels that he's been everywhere he could possibly be, at the length of time he's been walking-what, two, three days? Perhaps even a week? "At this rate", he mutters to himself, "I'll find me armor rusted before I exit here!"

"Ah, but it seems it's time again for me to stop walking, have meself a rest." He stops walking, and has himself a rest: he sits down on a nearby log and opens his pack, intent on grabbing a morsel. "An' what's for dinner? Oh look, nuts again! Mmm, how delicious! At this rate, I'll be a right proper squirrel in about, oh, I dunno, one more mealtime. Oh, for God's sa-" An odd noise disturbs him. The noise of... of a voice? No joy fills Marten's heart: the voice, though welcome in the silence of the wilderness, could very well have come from a hostile. He stands up and draws his blade, a golden broadsword enchanted with runes of flame, which his order had named 'Dawnbreaker'. Then he approaches, steady, fearless, and cautious....

When he discovers that the source of the noise was the dwarf, elf, and girl, he lowers (but not sheathes) his blade, noting the characters' lack of ready hostility. Raising his left hand in peace, he addresses them, "Ho, fellow travelers! Be ye kindred spirits, or foes of my patron St. John?"
 
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