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Old 03-20-2019, 01:25 PM
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The Betrayal

Meeting at the Field of Guts and Glory



The fire crackled soothingly while the flames danced along the lengths of log within the safety of the large fire pit casting a warm glow upon the gathered soldiers as they waited impatiently for their new Master Chief to make his promised appearance. There was some chatter among the men and women as they sat casually on stumps of log or oversized stones but mostly the freshly anointed Wanderlords kept their ears open for their new commanding officer's imminent arrival. There were fifteen of them gathered here under the stars near the edge of the Field of Glory just outside of Dusk. They had spent months drilling and training in those nearby fields and this place was an all too familiar one for each of them but somehow, sitting here as 3 of Origin's 13 moons.Chandra, Levana and Seren cast their ethereal glow upon them and glistened off the waters of the nearby Cobalt river, the place seemed alien and new. A distant howl lent its music to the steady cadence of the river's dancing flow as a single coyote voiced his endless lament to the listening night. One of the men, sitting easily on a log while he chewed nonchalantly on a habitual length of grass cleared his throat and drew the gazes of the others.

"He isn't human, you know. Our Master Chief. Word is he's some sort of lycanthrope like a werewolf or something, 'cept he's some kind of big cat."

Grif's gravelly voice had a rhythm to it which enticed the listeners to turn their full attention to his every word. The Skald was well known within the legion for his ability to spin a yarn and few here had not had the pleasure of hearing the battle-worn man recount a fable or two in just such a setting as they now found themselves.

"Oh yeah! I did hear that!" Theya said, her long braid spinning over one shoulder as she turned and settled herself to listen to Grif work his magic on them with his tale.

"I seen him once, 'bout a year ago. I was deployed out near Solden with my ol' infantry division to bolster the local garrison on account o' some troubles hittin' the town especially hard. Our CO was especially vague about the nature o' the troubles which was pretty odd but we were told a Platoon o' Wanderlords was stationed nearby too. We was curious to meet 'em and see what they could do, you know it? Wanderlords are s'posed to be the best of us and we was keen to see what they could do.

Well we got to see it alright."


Grif paused and let the silence do its work while he pulled the stalk of grass from his mouth and lit a pipe from a burning twig he pulled from the crackling fire. The orange-yellow light danced across his stubbly face and seemed to set fire to the piercing blue of his care-worn eyes. His bald head glistened in the firelight and showed the deep scar tissue near his left temple which caused the eye on that side to squint permanently. It made the man seem not only tough, but real somehow. Like he had seen things which, of course, he had.

"We was out on patrol down near the ridgeline of the small hill what splits the marshland from the steppe when they come down on us. They just fell from the sky and came at us with speed and fury I hadn't ever seen before. They was Githyanki I learned later, but at the time I thought it was demons come at us from beyond, you know it? They made short work of our front and rear ranks and by the time we spread and put our backs to each other we'd lost half our number. There were twenty of us out on that patrol and only six of them demons but they was pressing us hard. Three more fell and I felt fer sure we was done. I danced with one myself and I can't tell ya how fast that mother was and how ol' faithful here had as hard a time as any at keeping that fancy silver blade o' his at bay. Got me this scar to remember him by."

Grif tapped the hilt of the falchion strapped to his belt and his fingers twitched as he seemed to relive the tale as he told it. His other hand went to his temple as he fingered the thick scar tissue there for a moment before willing his hand back down into his lap.

"That's when he came. Haider Keene. He fell outta the sky like some hellcat with that winged steed o' his. He done jumped right off o' her and landed right beside me. I swear to Gaia herself that he done grinned at me and all his teeth were fangs like a lion might have. He kicked the gaudy Gith warrior in the teeth an settled him back afore swinging that polearm o' his an' clove him clean in half. That shecat o' his done landed at the other end and was tearing into them three Gith like they was butter. I ain't never seen nothin' like it. Haider then lept at the next one and I swear he became a cat too. It weren't long before the fightin' was done and I never did get to kill even one of them demons. After the fight Haider seemed human enough, but I saw his eyes. They was cats' eyes, and then they weren't, you know it? But I gots to tell ya, I sure am glad that man's on our side..."

Grif pulled on his pipe then and let a smoke ring spread from his pursed lips as his eyes lost themselves in his memory.

"What about the she-cat? I heard she was half human too? What was she like, Grif?"

Grif was brought out of his reverie abruptly when Theo asked his question a few heartbeats later. He was the youngest of them and his voice still held some of the croak of puberty and his face still had that smoothness only boys can have. His throwing knives and gait, however, showed these soldiers' trained eyes that this boy was not one to be trifled with. Two hand crossbows hung at his side, clipped and held in place for maximum silence as he walked. The boy put a foot atop a stone and leaned on it as he focused his attention on Grif as he waited, his lean muscles showing prominently through his tight fitting leather armor.

"That would be Leandra," Grif said, leaning forward as his tale continued.

"They say she's a Sphinx and not some cat like Haider is. She sure is a beauty though, let me tell ya. That lithe way she moves and those piercing eyes of hers would capture any man. You'd think she were the most beautiful woman you'd ever lain eyes on if it weren't for the fact her legs and lower body were entirely lion-like, tail an' all. She's big, too. Way bigger than any man. Haider rides on her like she was some horse an' he's about as big as they come hisself! She's sure as vicious an' deadly as he was when she done skewed them Gith, though, no doubt about it."

Theo grinned at the older man and seemed to enjoy the mental image conjured by the wordy Skald. He turned away still grinning and settled himself next to Theya, who seemed more than welcoming of the comely youth as she began to speak with him in a low voice. The rest of the platoon pondered what Grif had said and seemed to anticipate the Master Chief's arrival with even greater interest than before.

 
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Last edited by LeoByron; 03-20-2019 at 01:35 PM.
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Old 03-21-2019, 01:12 AM
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Ophelya
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A voice of divine grace pierced the night around the fire. - " Master Chief Keene is indeed legendary, which makes one wonder what threats require his presence and the deployment of fifteen Wanderlords. " Everybody knows who she is, princess Ophelya Valiant of the kingdom of Auramil, but among the Wanderlords she is simply Petty Officer 2nd class Valiant.

Ophelya is pretty much how people would imagine a princess from a royal lineage, a gift from the gods to her people. Her soft purple eyes are like astral bodies that fell from the sky. They are crowned with long red curly hair, occasionally whipped strands of it loose because of the breeze. Her small face is delicate, with pink lips around her little mouth under a thin but long nose. The maiden's body with a perfect hourglass shape is every male's dream. She smiles back politely at those who look in her direction.

- " The chief spent ten years in the Wanderlords, we have much to learn from him and his life partner Leandra. They have actually been married a few years. " Her back is straight and her chin is high, sitting on a fancy wooden chair which she conjured from nowhere. The elegant and polite lady wears a purple short dress, with a forest green tight vest over it to keep her warm. Her long legs are partially covered with black stockings decorated with laces stopping midway on her upper legs. She is wearing delicate shiny red shoes that appear to never get dirty somehow. The princess proudly covers her head with a large lady hat decorated with shades of green and purple. - " I wrote a poem on the way here to introduce myself originally and share some of my thoughts about our first mission together. Maybe you can help me to improve it Grif, I heard you are some kind of writer. "

Wanderlords Raise your eyes, cast your gaze high
and forget your sorrows
carry your memories close to your heart
And remember them fondly when you gaze at
The Sun, the Moons, the stars
So we'll find our dreams fade in time
In time our dreams leave us blind
By moonlight and starlight
Those shadows led us astray
Burn away your sorrow in the cleansing fire of power
Colors swirling around us
Shifting landscapes obey our every command
But still we don't possess the power to fulfill our dreams
Swallow and take what you thought you were meant to be
And reconcile it with who you are

Long have been complacent with the hand I've been dealt
Restless from the life of abundance I have been offered by Gaia
So I journey afar, for there's glory to find
And I'll fill out my entry in the annals of time
Bid my farewell to the ones that I love
Their grief but a fleeting feeling
For nature is calling, my heart compelled
Every branch, every leaf, has a story to tell
In a world where nothing is certain
The fear of failure looms large
No room for these doubts
I'll cast them away and
Take up my family’s name
History favors the daring
And only the brave will receive the eternal reward

My name is Ophelia Valiant
I've hailed to the cosmic masters
I've walked the astral plane
And traveled to distant worlds
Time like a river flows
The one thing I don't have the knowledge to change
Take heed my friends
The path of power isn't always
The means to the end you seek


 
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Last edited by MoonZar; 03-22-2019 at 08:42 AM.
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Old 03-21-2019, 10:56 AM
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Zeek the Unbroken(the firing of a fire's fire with fiery fire)
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Zeek Meandered about away from the others for a while. He took in the forest with his golden eyes, and enjoyed the songs of the coyote, as he remembered many a times he listened to them from the caves of his home. He missed his home, and his family. They were weak and cowardly, but he missed them all the same. In the end though, he was happy that it was he who put them out of their misery, and he had sent them out in a blaze of glory, just like how the human kings were sent off sometimes(or so he read in a book somewhere). He hoped they were all by the side of the great Garyx, reaping a mighty toll on the dumb elves of the darklands and the stupid orcs of the other place. But, better go make friends with the others, mean empire going to make me fight with them. 'But I can fight, I am strong, not like other kobolds. I can burn things, I can burn everything...'

After those thoughts, Zeek meanders his way over to the fire nonchalantly. He appears to be some form of winged dragonkin. He is tall and very thin, with a dragon's tail tipped with a scorpion's stinger. He wears fine mage robes emblazoned with the motifs of a raging firestorm that seem to move around like fire when looked directly at. He carries a staff made from a red metal and adorned with arcane symbols of fire and destruction, and it has a glass globe for a cap, with a burning draconic eye inside, seeming to look back at anyone looking at it. Zeek has a long, tooth filled, draconic head, with the holy symbol of some orc god burned into his flesh around his right eye, and covering about a quarter of that side of his head. Zeek still has a runed slave collar around his neck, and a number of runed lead rings piercing his wings, with no obvious way of unlocking them. Zeek also has an almost comical, wide brimmed pilgrim's hat that hangs at his belt, but everyone here knows it is a hat of disguise, and will change into whatever he needs it to be when he puts it on.

Zeek cautiously moves over to the fire, looking from one member to the other nervously, before kneeling down before the fire to say his prayer to Garyx; "
Draconic: O great Dragon of destruction, guide my claws and breath in the times to come, so that I might wreak terrible destruction upon my foes. Grant my allies the fiery rage of the dragons, so that they might further your destructive causes by wreaking that destruction upon our mutual enemies.Ο μεγάλος Δράκος της καταστροφής, καθοδηγεί τα νύχια μου και την αναπνοή τους στους ερχόμενους καιρούς, για να μπορώ να φτιάξω τρομερή καταστροφή στους εχθρούς μου. Δώστε στους συμμάχους μου τη φωτιζόμενη οργή των δράκων, ώστε να προωθήσουν τα καταστρεπτικά σας αίτια, καταστρέφοντας αυτή την καταστροφή στους αμοιβαίους εχθρούς μας.
"

He finishes his prayer by reaching his hand towards the fire, a beam of what appears to be liquid blue fire spouts out from his hand, hitting the firepit and causing it to flare up with intense heat, melting some of the rocks around it, and reducing the log in there to a pile of ash. Some of the rocks in the pit actually appear to be on fire as the wave of heat from his ray washes over the group assembled.

Zeek then sits down, and "smiles" to the rest of the members, but to most of them it just looks like he is baring his fangs. His tail flips to and fro as he gives a brief wave to those just hit by the heat wave, before speaking in an overly happy tone; "Hello new friends! I prayed for you all! If you don't know, I am Zeek. I like cats too, they are very good to eat, but not the commander, he is not food. Also, I likely the cause of the fire to the mess hall that one time, and the men's restroom the other time...." He trails off as he lists a number of other incidents that were likely directly caused by him, before noticing the looks on everyone's faces and quiets down.

He then glances over to the pretty Elf sitting next to the fire, and he calmly asks; "Miss. Your poem was very nice... and you're very beautiful, for an Elf. But, you're not one of those bad Elves who eats kobolds alive are you? My mother always said to be afraid of the pointy eared Elves, because they will capture you and torture you, before eating you alive. Is that true? Do Elves really do that?"

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Last edited by LeoByron; 03-21-2019 at 07:42 PM.
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Old 03-22-2019, 02:55 AM
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Ophelya- " Awww... Thank you, it's very kind of you to say. " The red-haired nymph notices the slave collar and the vile goddess Lanishra symbol carved on his skin. She doesn't mention it to avoid an awkward conversation, but understand why Zeek may have a strange misconception about the elves in general. - " In the Darklands lives the Drow elves, they are black-skinned, cruel and frequently practice torture and capable of eating intelligent being. White elves like me who lives at the surface are quite the opposite and rarely eat red meat at all. My home is on an archipelago and I love fish, I'm also fond of vegetables, fruits, beans, eggs, nuts and so on. The nature offers everything we need, there's no need to eat people. " She changes the topic into something more cheerful. - " Who taught you magic? " Ophelya despises fire, however the powerful items Zeek are wearing hint at his arcane power, which makes her curious. - " I'm the squad loremaster, I learn magic from books like a wizard and bend reality. It's a lot of fun! " She winks at the poor creature that caught her attention and her pity of been the result of horrible arcane experiments.


 
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Old 03-22-2019, 05:59 AM
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Barqas Ultha
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A compact man with dark olive skin strides closer to the fire, his black hair hanging like an obsidian river down his shoulders and his full beard well trimmed and treated with scented oils. He is by all means a handsome man with smoldering eyes the color of dark coffee, sharp cheekbones and chiseled, wolfish features. He is clad in the fashion of the southlanders, light clothing of bright and colorful silks and silver adornments showing his bare hands and open at the chest. Series of tattoos and ritual scars adorn his body and his near-bare chest reveals that the man carries more golden piercings than just the ones in his ears. Wearing a huge grin that shows overly large, white teeth he approaches Zeek with a rumbling chuckle "Ahh Zeek my good friend, what see you in the flames tonight?" he says in his deep voice carrying a trace of some strange accent as he claps the draconic sorcerer on his shoulder and squeezes tight.

There is something odd about that man, something quite not human. It could be the way the flames dance in his eyes or how his stocky build hints at some mixed blood, by the flames his dark skin almost seems crimson.

He puts the great maul he carries on his shoulder down, a black monstrosity of a weapon that hits the ground with a thumping sound as he produces a slender cigar from a pocket and lights it with a snap of his fingers and draws smoke from it. You can see that the tattoos are some sort of rites and prayers, both written and graphic. Symbols of numerous gods in myriad styles with their holy writs underneath cover his body but on his chest is the holy symbol of Gaia much larger than the other, branded into his chest and somehow more noticeable than the rest.

Most of the gathered know this man as Barqas, a loud and passionate man who carries a thunderous laughter with him wherever he goes "Valiant." he says with a nod towards Ophelya before sitting himself down cross legged in front of the fire. A lover of stories he is more excited than he cares to admit about meeting Haider Keene and Leandra after hearing all those tales told about them throughout his training. He'd even heard a story or two from his days with the Moat Runners although those were probably lies at best "We are all glad to hear you wont be eating the Commander, friend Zeek, also please try not to set him on fire." he burst out laughing, slapping the mage on the back.
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Old 03-22-2019, 10:28 AM
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Zeek the Unbroken(does a fire's fire have fire in it's soul?)
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Zeek looks pleasantly surprised at the notion that there were Elves that were not evil monsters from the darklands. He gives her another toothy smile before it quickly turns into a wince as the large Barqas grasps his shoulder hard before inquiring as to the portents; "Aaaahhhh yes, the dragon father of destruction speaks through my dreams and in the fire, but the message is usually the same. He will be with us on our first mission, so that the calamity we might wreak upon our foes will be great and terrible indeed!"

Zeek then gets slapped on the back and is thrown off of his seat, for the strong Barqas was very strong, and the weak Zeek was not strong at all. He was very much the opposite of strong, and more so in comparison to Barqas. But he was very agile, and so he turned his fall into a tumble, using his wings and tail to balance himself out, landing inches away from Ophelya, with the bone spurs on his wings digging into the ground around her, and stopping him from falling into her. He then throws himself up and back into a back-flip, before landing right next to Ophelya, his wings folding into his back as he does so deftly.

"You forget how strong you are my friend, remember that I am the opposite of strong, and the opposite of heavy!" He then bursts out into a strange laughter at the sight of his near tumble into the pretty elf.

Now that he was sitting again, he refocuses on the elf's questions, nodding with interest; "So you are like my former owner! He was an old man who used magic from a book and did reality bending experiments on me? And the orcs who owned me first, they were the worst. They read stuff from books and used blood magic to make me like I am now. I don't speak orc though, so my second owner was always mad I couldn't remember what the orcs said to make me have wings and be a dragon instead of a kobold."

He then holds his arms out and forms fire in his hands, letting it spread across his arms before he blows on them and the fire goes out, then he stands up and throws his wings back to their full twenty foot wingspan as he bursts into a 17 taking 10, so not a bad performanceperformance, his arms waving in dramatic fashion as he goes from raging Dragon to meek Kobold to angry Orc; "I was taught magic by the great Garyx himself! He told me in a dream once, when I was but a young kobold, he said 'ZZZEEEEKKKKK YOU ARE OF MY BLOOD AND WILL BE A GREAT INSTRUMENT OF DESTRUCTION!!!! GO AND BURN YOUR ENEMIES INTO DUST AND PROVE YOU DESERVE MY ATTENTION!!!' and so I woke up and could use magic! The elders of my tribe took me in and helped me to hone my powers!"

He then begins using his hands to make shadow figures of orcs and Kobolds, using his wings to simulate a breeze as he continues his tale; "Then the orcs came to our tribe, and my mother said it was my fault, because I was brave and never afraid! But I stood tall against the orc menace, and burned some of them to death!!! Before being captured." He waves his hands around and then creates small fire people which burst out of the embers of the fire-pit; "Then the orcs took us, and ate us, and branded us!" The same symbol on his face becomes burnt into the ground beneath the fire kobolds and orcs as the orcs throw the kobolds into cages or sacrifice them on altars.

"Then the orcs did the only good thing for Zeek that they ever did. They brought forth a great child of Garyx, a mighty Wyvern, then they brought one of their strong warriors and used a blood magic ritual to meld them with Zeek!" A great fire dragon with a scorpion tail appears, as a female orc throws the kobold, dragon, and an orc into a witch's brew pot, before Zeek pops out of it in his current form.

"Then I prayed to the great Garyx for deliverance from my slavery, and he appeared to me in a dream!!! He said; 'ZEEK! MY BLOOD AND CHILD! I CANNOT SAVE YOU FROM YOUR PLIGHT FOR I AM BUSY BUILDING A NEW DRAGON! BUT I TRUST YOU TO BURN YOUR WAY FREE WITH THE GIFTS I GAVE YOU!' and so I did exactly that. I found that the strength of my powers to burn things had been increased a hundred fold!" Zeek then raises his arms up to the heavens and a massive fiery dragon of cataclysm rises up and towers over the fire Zeek, before promptly disappearing into the embers once more, crashing into them with a whoosh of fire and smoke. Then the fire Zeek burns through his chains and scorches the other deformed kobolds, leaving naught but ash behind.

"Then Zeek was free to fly away! But Zeek is unlucky, oh so unlucky as he flew his first flight right into the imperial army coming to kill the orcs. So I found myself once more in a collar and flightless..." The fire Zeek soars into the sky, performing areal acrobatics before going stock still from some human fire figures beneath him, and plummeting to the ground, all his limbs seeming to bend into unnatural angles upon impacting the coals.

"Then I was bought by a wizard like you, most beautiful Ophelya, and that wizard liked to experiment on Zeek by means of magic that distorts reality. He tried so hard to find what made Zeek Zeek. I told him it was the great Garyx, but he didn't believe in Garyx. So I stopped trying to tell him. He showed me more ways to enhance my ability, so now I have fire magics hotter than dragon fire, as hot as Garyx's fire himself! The great gift that my life has amounted to!" The fire Zeek then has a collar thrust around his neck, and the lead weights hammered into his wings, so that he could fly no more. The old wizard brought him to a high tower in a large city, where he did things that made the fire Zeek warp and change until he looked almost exactly as he does now. Then the fiery figures that danced and performed in the fire, fall to dust, leaving nothing but the memory left in the minds of the observers.

With that, Zeek plops down next to Ophelya again, a big, toothy grin on his face as he looks to all the newbies with him, quite proud of his fiery performance. "And that new friends, is the tragic tale of Zeek, the fire-starter."

 




ooc



 


 


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Last edited by Unforgiven; 03-22-2019 at 09:51 PM.
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Old 03-22-2019, 08:08 PM
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Of the many estimable qualities possessed by the menacing hulk of Colby Ness, neither verbosity nor punctuality appears to be among them. Though the program at the Wanderlord training grounds is months long, many arrived days and week early. Colby, however, arrived four days into the program, after the training was well underway. The wagon he showed up in resembled a paddy wagon more than a coach. Wanderlords, not trainees but full-fledged members of the corps based on their insignia, manned the wagon. They had to unlock the carriage from the outside. The animosity between the sole occupant and the Wanderlord escorts was palpable from across the field. It is a wonder the broad-shouldered behemoth exiting the carriage could fit in through the door, and in fact, he had to move sideways to do so. A long, tense moment transpired when Colby stood to his full height and glowered down at the Wanderlord at the door, the soldier returning the gaze with a grimace of disgust. Colby’s hair, long enough to reach his shoulders, is disheveled and though braided to the rear, shows the dishevelment and flyaway of having been in that braid for days. The men say nothing to each other. The Wanderlord cuts the staring contest and gets back into the driver’s bench of the wagon, snapping the reigns and leaving the training yard at a trot. At the very edge of the training yard, a bundle is thrown off the side of the wagon, clattering to the field and spilling its contents everywhere. Colby walked over to pick up his effects in a slow plot, maintaining an air of dignity in the face of the insult. Among his things are weapons and armor.

Months of forces cohabitation is a long time, and forming social bonds is inevitable, even for some as disinclined to speak as Colby. Over the months Colby has, in his way, avoided all discussion of his unceremonious arrival or his motivations behind joining the Wanderlords (except, it was necessary.) His way is not a diplomatic one. He does not dodge conversation with glib or tact. Colby possesses no apparent interest in being liked and has no reservations about not answering questions. Despite this, as training progresses, Colby also demonstrates an unspoken motivation towards teamwork. By no means a leader or a follower, he never seems uncomfortable working with other people. If there is a hand offered to help someone to their feet, it’s as often Colby’s as it is not. Despite his brusk exterior, he is easy to get along with when he isn’t bossed around. This has caused some problems with his superiors. Colby has been an indomitable stone in the river, standing strong against the tide of leadership, and weathering many corrective punishments, in the name of not being pushed around. However, his resolve disappears when group punishment is levied against his peers for his actions. For being one who seems incapable or unwilling to ingratiate himself socially to his comrades, Colby displays a marked unspoken loyalty and camaraderie.

”Colby believes lizard is white meat.” He cuts in and adds to the conversation, right after Ophelya mentions she doesn’t eat much red meat anyway. As best as they can tell, this is Colby’s attempt at a joke, perhaps implying Zeek is still acceptable fare for the elf. Colby himself has no interest in the arrival of the Master Chief, at least not in this manner. He’d prefer to meet the Master Chief in a tournament, or in training, or a duel. A fireside ceremony is not Colby’s preferred social environment. He has, however, brushed and braided his hair to a level of meticulous attention rivaling the noblewoman herself. Despite his roughshod exterior, long hair, and knuckles of iron Colby’s appearance is attended to with a standard of care in opposition to the initial dirty tribesman look his clothes and face portray. Once Zeek has stopped making the fire too hot to sit near, he takes a spot on the ground between Ophelya and Barqas to listen to Zeek’s story. He sits, legs crossed, with perfect posture. The two massive arms cross before his slab of a chest. Despite the furrowed brow and default surly look on his face, Colby’s attention is on Zeek’s words.
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Last edited by DraconigenaArma; 03-25-2019 at 11:10 PM.
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Old 03-22-2019, 09:00 PM
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Ophelya- " White meat doesn't make him more tasty. You have nothing to fear from me Zeek. " Trying to reassure the Wyvaran after the barbarian's joke. The wizard suddenly startles when the winged creature tumbles a few inches from her delicate person. The name of Garyx echoing in the camp makes her body suddenly tense. She feels deep repugnance for the dragon god of destruction and fire. The teaching of Auremil the great wyrm dragon king at home is totally in opposition with Garyx wishes to wreak havoc and devastation to the world. - " I never used blood magic, I assure you I'm nothing like your first owner! " Ophelia takes a deep breath and remains still, trying to contain an outburst that wants to get out. Very young she has a fire of her own boiling her blood, making her a passionate being and sometimes spontaneous like Zeek.

Ophelya closes her fists and bites her lips when Zeek conjures fire. - " Yiiiikeeessss!!!!! " Jumping on her feet, she steps back from the kobold-dragon with irrational fear on her face without looking where she is going. Bumping into Lord D'Agni Sangrose, she falls backward on his laps by accident, grabbing at his clothes to don't fall on the ground. - " Waaaa... ! " Definitely not her greatest moment for someone who is supposed to be stoic in all matter at court. She stays on the paladin while shacking and rubbing her neck in pain on the right side. Her legs are numb and incapable of moving until the fire stop dancing around them. - " Excuse me, Lord! " The princess never met D'Agni, but she knows he's from some noble house from a land very far from her homeland and has some Ifrit ancestors. She calms down and gently gets back on her feet with embarrassment, her cheeks turning to red. The princess left on the paladin a few red hairs and her exquisite smell. Without saying anything she walks back with grace to her seat near Zeek as if nothing happened with her heart beating loudly in her chest. - " That was a nice performance Zeek. Sorry that I got carried away, it was very dramatic. " She keeps for herself her hostility toward Garyx and adjusts her cloak over her shoulders, shivering. The elf feels a bit out of luck to have to deal with a firemonger for her first mission.


 
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Old 03-22-2019, 11:25 PM
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D'Agni
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Like the fire that now burned bright within the center of the camp, the journey of the man known as D'Agni Sangrose had also begun with the faintest of sparks. His introduction to the training regiments of the Wanderlords had burned slowly at first. Attentions and interests shifted by the day as he slowly spread his understanding across the kindling that had been set before him. He quickly began to taste the sweet fruits of a world far removed from what he had known. Those indulgences inflamed his passions and he greedily engulfed all he could uncaringly with zeal. His hedonism and sharp tongue burned those who got too close or drew in moths to be burnt out in his wake. Blood, sweat, and perhaps some unseen tears had certainly watered his path to where D'Agni now found himself. Maybe it was a sense maturation, threats of retribution from above, or maybe D'Agni had simply grown bored with burning through every debauchery he could. Whatever was the case, D'Agni's flames had ceased their greedy consumption and begun to burn steadily and with patience. Like a fine wine the ifrit warrior from Shaolin savored his interactions with an unconcerned gaze that swept over everything as though it all belonged to him. Needless to say there were few trainees who found him tolerable and even fewer who held a liking for the man.

As he sat there beside that fire, D'Agni seemed unconcerned with the idle chatter that littered the camp. A small tome was caressed within one palm lazily resting upon his crossed knee while his eyes took their time deciphering its contents. Though not visibly giving any direct attention to those around him, his eyes ceased their motions as Grif spoke of his encounter with their new master chief and his companion. The lightest of smirks graced the handsome man's face painted in flickering shadows of the fire. His interest seemed not to last though for his attention quickly returned to his readings once the tale had been told. For all the whispers and tales told of D'Agni he certainly did portray himself in many of the stereotypes on expected of nobles. Arrogant, prideful, and seemingly unconcerned with those below his station.... it was a true mystery just what would have drawn such a man to service in the Wanderlords. Even discounting his attitude, D'Agni stood out among many of those who called the Empire their home. Where other trainees wore armors D'Agni donned tailored silks. Where blades, bows, and spells were weapons, D'Agni only ever fought with his bare fists. For some the juxtapose image was hard to pin down as a common bar brawler, yet those other trainees who had seen him fight could never quite decide if the man was fighting or performing some form of exotic dance.

A sudden surge of the flames danced within D'Agni's gaze as the wyvaran known as Zeek unnecessarily enlightened the gathered members of his origins. Such a tale though would have bored D'Agni had he not his own stories to savor. Such comforts appeared disallowed in the moment as the sudden yelp from the fire elf Ophelia roused the immediate attentions of those nearby. It was almost amusing really. For D'Agni to see one whose blood was claimant to the realm of fire to be seemingly afraid of such or even to shirk from its embrace... the irony was not lost on the warrior. Karma seemed to reward D'Agni's arrogance by suddenly depositing the fair women right into his lap unceremoniously as she grappled with his pressed silks to avoid a tumble. Despite the sudden commotion, D'Agni remained composed as his gaze seemed to consider whether or not Ophelia's close proximity was a concern to him. The soft thud of his tome closing seemed to speak to his mood as the man calmly brushed away the few hairs left upon his attire by the woman. Though the disruption to his attire had been minuscule, careful observers could notice the few creases from where Ophelia had grabbed hold slowly straightening and pressing themselves at D'Agni's gentle brushing.

"Sangrose-san" The smoothness in the man's voice might be found charming were it not for the obvious feeling of superiority that flowed off them. As if leaving no doubt as to who he was speaking to, D'Agni's eyes rested appraisingly upon the princess. "In your country, it would be Lord. In my country, a noble such as yourself would address another noble with the title of san. Princess Ophelia-san." Lazily reaching behind him, D'Agni slipped the small tome into his sturdy looking ebony leather backpack. "But I will understand if most here are not well versed in Shaolin etiquette." It seemed the previously stoic ifrit had been drawn into the curious dialogues of the evening as he corrected Ophelia in what more than likely was an all too common occurrence for a man so far from home. "It was quite amusing to learn some of whom I would be working with would carry noble blood. At least some families within the Empire understand what it means to serve their people." Whether D'Agni was giving Ophelia a backhanded compliment or not was hard to discern for his tone seemed to carry a hint of derogation.
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Old 03-23-2019, 12:47 AM
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Ophelya- " Sangrose-SAN it's then. " She didn't really pay attention to the lord before the incident, now beaming at him with curiosity. Ophelya knows vaguely where Shaolin is located and what kind of land it's. The Minkaian and etiquette of this realm is different from everything she knows. As a future queen she learned the basic how to behave with those people, maybe this is an opportunity to learn more. The princess stands and Diplomacy 19bows elegantly toward Sangrose-san. - " I do remember when one of your relative visited Auramil with a delegation. I was a child but was taught some manners for the occasion. " She smiles graciously and take back her seat to continue the discussion. - " Since today I'm a Wanderlord and we are neither in your realm or mine, you can call me Ophelya. That's a beautiful name, I like when people use it. " The lady is not sure how to read him, he sounds like a challenge of some sort. First he didn't melt after she touched him, which is rare. He is walking a fine line between arrogance and trying to be nice to her, which one it's? Maybe it's just his style. - " Royal blood... My family serves it's people, and protect the world from many evil since long before humans became civilized. I'm just trying to do my part. " She winks a bit amused to correct him about the noble blood. - " Sounds like we'll be all together for some time. Would you like to teach me more good manners and a bit of your language while we wait? You seem a bit bored! " The lady took a funny expression about the manners part, teasing him a bit to see how he will react to her charms.


 
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Old 03-23-2019, 04:37 AM
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D'Ambra
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The calm night air is cool, crisp and oh-so penetrating…

Gazing into the great deep black sky, the vastness is ominously apparent. When was the last time she sat quietly, entranced into a crackling bonfire with such stillness? Her past now behind her.

D’Ambra turns her soft eyes to lightly absorb the feelings and emotions of the gathering scene of all the new and colorful recruits. They are rowdy. They are jovial. ’...So this is the Wanderlords, as it seems?’

The curious gentleman, Grif, is somewhat youthful with his light merry-making, enjoyment of weaving a tantalizing tale to hopefully frighten the green recruits, with his grisled demeanor and the stories of his swift blade.

Not to worry D.’

’And this Theo and Theya. Do they spawn from the same kin? Both look rather lithe and squirmy if you ask me.

’Why do you judge them? You do not know them from adam.’

’And look how they both cradle their adorable ranged weapons… I bet they’d indeed squirm with one of my blades at their throats.’ --’D’AMBRA! YOU HOLD YOUR TONGUE!’

’... Ha...ha… We are just having a little fun now Missy. Besides, this new lot looks to be our squad-mates for a time. It’s best we size them up now and spot their worth and capabilities, Yes? You will see; Men of arms are always loathsome men of Blood. We need to get a fix on them first.’

’You are hopeless young lady D. Young lady you are, indeed.’ --’That’s Young Lady D’Ambra of Furyborn to you, you noisy inanimate object.’

____

Lady D’Ambra sits, crouched down low, off to one side and all alone by herself. Her subtle violet eyes flicker and reflect the crackling fire that rages just before her. Those with acute senses will barely be able to catch their glimmer.

’This Petty Officer 2nd Class Valiant is quite the talker. --She looks to have been fed with a silver canoe ore, shoved in her mouth...’

Then this “Zeek” figure Meanders over as if he’s a bit nervous. D’Ambra’s eye watch him intently as he looks like he is wound so tight-- he may snap any moment. He then whispers a faint prayer to Garyx. D’Ambra has studied the ways of Garyx for a time, and she speaks Draconic fluidly. ’Look at that, Ms. Mask-- He’s an Acolyte of Destruction. His words are savage and course.’ Zeek then kindles the fire so that it burns even brighter and furious. --D’Ambra holds her form with arms simply crossed despite the unruly fire. ’I kinda like him actually. Savageness is adorable and quite useful at times.’

She then beholds the next man that presents himself. At first sight she’s struck and quivers for a moment. She squirms. She can not help herself. What’s going on? She can not help but writhe subtly as she drinks in the figure of this impressive man named Barqas. ’HAHA! Is Young Lady D’Ambra actually attracted to this strong and burly man for once?!?!’ --’Shut Up You! No one asked you.’

If Barqas catches eye contact with D’Ambra, he may pick up on some subtle and deep brooding attraction… maybe even Lust.

This figure Colby looks unpredictable. He looks fast. He looks powerful. He looks rageful. ’Oh boy, a quiet and reserved man. But still-waters run deep as they say. He still has a stick up his ass, though. Note taken.’ ’Watch yourself with this one D.’. ’Ya right. Who you talk’in? He better watch himself around me.’

’And now there is this “Sangrose-san.” ”Shaolin etiquette,” ah yes so he’s all the way from Shaolin. A Disciple huh? A man of Meditation and of the calm mind. HA!’ --’And you could learn some lessons in calming your mind. Maybe you should make friends with him.’ ’He’s got a stick up his arrogant ass like that Colby fella. And you got a stick up your ass too, Ms. Mask. You better ease up.

____

Then Zeek pipes in further and speaks quite verbosely, Alright, Alright Dragonkin Zeek, you have spoken enough. My goodness… The mysterious female figure rises to her feet and saunters over to the conversing crowd. She flicks her heavy and thick, seemingly reptile skin, cloak about as if she were making a strong entrance and gesture. Her boots are tight and black, more like slippers actually. She glides almost like a dancer. Thin black leather gloves of skin-like dexterity and precision, coat her long fingers, and a black velvet headband rests above her eyes with a small yellow jewel in the center. Catskin, her chest armor looks very uncommon… It certainly looks like its threaded from Catskin on closer study.

Greetings to you all. My name is Take 10 Bluff check with fake name; Romana = 26. *Sense Motive check to beat DC… If you wish Romana from Soarta. Her face is ever-so fair and porcelain-like. Extremely appealing to the eye, lady-like, regal and austere. A small sapphire blue tattoo of two tear drops rests on her right cheek, and a thin green slash like a scare runs down her left brow and across her other eye.

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She stands firm and tall, confident and present. Her garb is tight and secure. So much dark camouflage, its somewhat difficult to see her shape in the low-light environment. Her hair is a pale white and long resting down her chest, and her lips are a rich crimson and vibrant Red. She’s human, and she looks quite old, come to notice on closer inspection. And her voice is rather deep as well, and raspy, further supporting her age. She could be placed at Take 10 Disguise check = 29. *Percep check vs DC to know her true age and race.around 50!

It is good to make your acquaintance. You all look to be a sturdy troupe, I am pleased to see. ’You are being very cold lady D.’ --’Quiet you, I know what I am doing.’

Absolutely no visible weapons are seen on her person, as she stands there quietly awaiting anyone that wishes to Take 10 Sleight of hand check to conceal numerous weapons = 28 and 30. *Percep check vs DC to notice otherwiserespond.

OOC

 
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Last edited by WhiteStag; 03-24-2019 at 01:42 PM.
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Old 03-23-2019, 10:32 AM
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Lei Zhang
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Lei Zhang did not belong here.

This had been the thought at the back of his mind ever since he had been informed of his newly assigned station among the legendary Wanderlords. The Wanderlords, of all things, he who had once been convinced he would live and die as generations before him had, digging in the dirt and leaving naught behind but a legacy of toil and failed aspirations. Even as he meditated on the matter, he had been scarcely able to believe any of it was real even as he was handed the badge of his new office. And as the others seemed to introduce themselves, interact with one another, or speak of their tales, it started to become more and more clear just how right he had been in his first assessment.

Lei Zhang did not belong here.

A grey, calloused hand rubbed at the badge pinned to a set of simple looking monastic robes, the lines of grey, crystal-like protrusions along his arm bending naturally with the movement. Unbothered by the grass and dirt beneath, the short, hairless humanoid had opted instead to sit cross-legged on the ground, his back to one of the large stones being used as a makeshift seat. Head slightly bowed, Lei avoided making eye contact with the others as they told their stories, but his ruby eyes could not help but regard his fellows with more than a bit of wonder. The story of the Master Chief and his noble steed was of course the stuff of legends, captivating in the images it provoked, and truly the student of Perfection could only pray to Irori or The Mother that he himself would be able to reach even one hundredth of that pinnacle in service to the Immortal Emperor's glorious empire. But if the Master Chief was already a legend, then the people here...

There was, of course, the literal princess among their number. She was an elven beauty beyond compare, like a goddess come down from above to grace mere mortals such as Lei with her presence, and truly looking the part of a royal who possessed Heaven's Mandate, the divine right of those in power to rule over, and thus safeguard, their citizenry. That she was here serving as one of the Immortal Emperor's elite lent even more credence to this belief. That she would serve the people well here said great things for her sense of duty, and doubtless when it was her time to rule that duty would have been forged in the fires of service going forward.

Next was the wyrmkin, Zeek, an absolutely fascinating individual even before getting to know anything of his nature or history. Decades of remaining in his home village had left Lei with a lack of perspective regarding the world at large, and he had believed that his perspective had truly been expanded once Shaolin city had shown him wonders beyond his previous imaginings. And then Lei had seen Dusk, and everything that lay between as he had journeyed outside of Shaolin for the very first time. The masters in the Halls of Perfection always spoke of never assuming an end to knowledge, but it was only through experience that the apprentice had truly begun to take the lesson to heart. And now here he was, sitting with a dragon-man the likes of which he had never before seen, who's story was as incredulous as it was heart-wrenching, though Zeek seemed to be in good enough spirits regarding the whole thing. Perhaps his love of fire kept him satisfied? His enthusiasm with the flame was perhaps a tad worrisome, but the draconic flamecaster seemed to mean well. Lei would just need to make sure not to stand in front of the sorceror at an inopportune time. Or look too cat-like.

Then there was the holy warrior, Barqas, with the markings to match. Boisterous, jovial, proud, so full of confidence in himself. So unlike Lei that the monk was more than a little intimidated by the man already, even though they had hardly interacted. Men like that could forge their own path in life no matter what obstacle was set before them, and by so doing form their own legends. That he chose to serve the Empire spoke well of him, and Lei was grateful to have someone such as he as a companion to make up for the monk's own lack of inner fire.

Colby was a curious one. It was not as if Lei had gone out of his way to interact with the hulking man, and there were times where the Shaolin peasant could have sworn the braided man could pass for mute with how little he spoke. But spoke he did, always short and to the point. But if there was one thing that Lei could tell about the man, it was that his will was indomitable. For all the severe punishments levied against him, all the trials, all the frustration of their trainers, Colby had never broken. It was only when the whole of the training group had been punished for his stubbornness that the silent man had finally relented in his rebellion. Lei Zhang could never understand why a person would be so insistent on defying authority, when it was authority which ensured that society progressed at its proper pace and that the people could live their lives in peace and security. Though the earth-touched apprentice of Perfection did not understand the man, he had seen the warrior's will, and saw a man as sturdy as adamantine both inside and out. The quality of that aspect was most likely what found him a place among the Wanderlords.

Next was something a little closer to home. D'Agni Sangrose, another noble, and from Shaolin no less! Lei Zhang silently cursed his lack of education regarding the noble houses of his own home province, as even after entering the Halls of Perfection and taking in more knowledge than he had ever laid eyes on in the decades beforehand, he had never taken too close of an interest in the political machinations of society's caretakers, confident that those in power were properly steering society in a direction which was beneficial to them all, and that those who did not would be struck down by the vengeance of the gods. Admittedly, the stories he had heard of the young noble during training were less than pleasant, but he was here, with them, beneath the stars and around the flame, ready to set out and defend this great Empire against threats seen and unseen. Duty was the binding line between the high and the low within civilization, it is what kept the peace, allowed for the many to flourish, gave the people purpose and drive to face each day, to know who they were. There was something to be said about someone being chosen to serve in such a high capacity, no matter what rumors were spread of their own faults. Lei did not even wish to know what would be said of him if he were enough of a known figure to warrant such attention. And from what the former miner had seen on the training grounds, the red haired warrior was quite skilled in the art of unarmed combat, dancing with a deadly grace which had Lei think of his own style, which in comparison to D'Agni's flowing strikes was completely lacking in such elegance. Of course, Lei had never dared to even suggest sparring with the man, so afraid that he would trip over his own words and earn the enmity of the noble and his whole house. The shame would be unbearable. It was unfortunate, as such practice always yielded better outcomes through the honing of one's skill, but there was nothing to be done. Fellow Wanderlords or no, they were still who they were.

Lei Zheng did not belong here.

When the mysterious woman introduced herself as Romana, from the militant kingdom of Soarta, the stone born villager was able to only recall that the region was famous for producing peerless warriors. It was no surprise then to see that a more veteran warrior of such a place would find themself a member of the Wanderlords, though truth be told, there did not seem to be anything else to be heard about the woman among the general trainee gossip. Her clothing suggested stealth, Lei imagining she would be even more difficult to see if not for his ability to see in dark environs, and she did not seem to be armed in any capacity. Odd, considering their duties, but perhaps she fought without the need for a weapon, as he did? Lei then thought back to the seven-branched sword laid down beside him, of how over the course of his own meager adventures bringing ne'er do wells to justice in the Shaolin countryside, he had learned the value of putting to use the other weapons he had been trained with. The striking older human seemed friendly enough though, and there was no reason to consider otherwise. It seemed like a good opportunity to get in on familiarizing himself with the rest of the group, and so the oread gave a small wave of his greyscale hand in greeting, a strained smile gracing his face, as if forcing himself to remember to look happy and failing miserably at hiding the discomfort of the act.

"Pleased to meet as well, Romana-obaasan. It will be good to see you demonstrate the famous prowess of Soarta when the time comes. Certain as the the turning of sun and moons, we can learn from each other and improve our skills together, yes?" The clear, unassuming voice of the oread answered After finishing with the greeting, Lei then turned to the two recently disentangled nobles, his face gaining a pensive look.

His own eyes downcast, so as to meet neither lord nor lady's gaze, Lei put closed fist to open palm as he bowed low in his seated position.

"Sangrose-sama, Valiant-hime. I beg forgiveness for being so presumptuous, but I wished to express what joy I feel to see you both in this place. The people look to nobility for guidance and wisdom in times of trouble and peace, myself included, and knowing that you've accepted the call to better serve our Empire and maintain the prosperity of the divine mandate is a sure sign that the kingdoms' futures are in capable hands."

He rose up from his bent posture, still seated, and looked around at all the others gathered around the fire, regarding each on in turn before he continued speaking.

"I agree with Romana-obaasan, you all seem as if, one way or another, you will be worthy additions to the Wanderlord ranks. I was only raised due to a few irrelevant displays of skill, which ultimately changed nothing for Shaolin's stability. My greatest hope is that now, properly directed, and with the help of the truly elite among us, even one as lowly as I can defend the Empire's unity under heaven."

Perhaps he did not belong among these people, but that did not mean he would abandon his duty. He would do what he could, and let fate decide whether karma was on his side.







 

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Old 03-23-2019, 07:51 PM
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Barqas Ultha
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Barqas sits in silence as events unfold in front of him, new people join in, powers are showed, titles are thrown about. He offers them all a sincere smile, the biggest one to Sangrose. He's seen his kind before, is reminded of a newcomer in the Moat Runners who tried to flash a title as if it meant jacksh*t to the men and women in the company, to his credit that one was a quick learner and stopped after getting jaw broken only once, died a year later from an arrow in the gut but seemed a decent enough fellow after he'd been put in his place. Barqas tried to remember his name but came up empty.

Perhaps the man hadn't been all that important after all.

Colby he had seen before, a dangerous man if ever he'd seen one. He acknowledged him with a nod as he sat by the fire.

Leaning closer to Zeek he nudges the draconic mage "Friend Zeek" he says in a conspiratory tone "It was a great story, I like it. Yet.....not all breath the same flames you do, some do not like them. I offer you an advice, yes? Offer them your fire when the need calls for it, if they feel threatened by it they may think you a fearsome ally, perhaps?" he winks and shrugs, adding "Also, I am sorry. I forget, but all is good, yes?" he gives Zeek another clap on the shoulder, this one more gentle than before.

A woman steps forth, one he had not seen before this night, her eyes catching his a minute before and he thought he'd seen in them something that ignited a spark within him. He was after all then son of a being that was made of pure passion and freedom, but when she introduced herself he could see the Sense motive: 32 (Nat 20!)lie before it was told. Standing up he acknowledge her "Romana, welcome." who was he to call her out on the lie? Growing up in the company of men and women who had made a career under a name not their own. Scoffer, Red Kettle, Coals. Hell, even The Commander was only known as Commander. She could choose whatever name she wanted, it meant nothing to him.

He offers her his seat by the fire before turning his attention to another approaching, the strange grey man they call Lei Zhang who introduces himself, but his words sting and Barqas finds himself shaking his head as a scowl forms on his face. Approaching the small man he moves to stand in front of him, peering down and chewing on his cigar "You think you do not deserve to be here? You think you are weaker than all of us and you are here because it is a mistake? No. No no no! Not good enough, you think? Can that be what you think?" grabbing his cigar and flicking it into the flames he shakes his head, his accent growing thicker as his passionate temper rises "No one is here by no mistake, no one!" he leans back, a huge grin replacing his scowl in a flash "Perhaps you are the best of us, Master Lei? Or perhaps Sangrose is the best of us? Valiant? Zeek? No, how about Colby then? Or perhaps we all are equals?" he lets out a bellowing laugh "How about that Master Lei? Equals until we all trip on our inability to serve the Empire and break our neck, yes?" turning away from the man he finds a spot by the fire and sits himself down, still chuckling to himself "No, you are no less than any here. If I am to shed my blood by your side you have to accept me as your equal, yes?"
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Old 03-24-2019, 06:27 AM
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Lei Zhang
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"Eh..." Lei leaned back slightly as he was confronted by the passionate, smoking man. Bewilderment and fluster were on full display on the oread's face as Barqas let him know exactly what he thought of the shorter man's attitude. It was quite clear the reaction had taken him by surprise, and he could do nothing but look up politely as the man went from scowls to smiles over the course of his dialogue.

As the good humored holy warrior again took a place by the fire, Lei considered the words he had let loose in such a spitfire fashion. It was clear Barqas meant well, and it felt good to have someone speak on his behalf so passionately. A fine comrade... but they all had their place in the world.

"Thousands of pardons, and a thank you for the kind words, but no, no, too many problems come from raising above one's station. To be content with my place keeps the mind clear, closes off the path of my own being disrupting our harmony, and allows for one such as I to contribute without getting in another's way. All I can promise is that I will be a steadfast comrade, and that what skills I do possess are at your disposal, in service of the Empire... and no, erm, broken necks will, ah, be necessary. Mother willing. Yes. Ahem."

It was strange. Though the phrasing had obviously been meant as a joke, the inconsistent, unsure tone with which he had said it, the lacking laughter behind the words, the slightly desperate undercurrent with which it had been rushed out, as if an afterthought tacked on to his main dialogue once the idea for what he had thought would be a clever retort had popped into his head. An idea which he seemed to have wanted to abandon as soon as he had begun, with the delivery suffering for lack of commitment. There had been a hint of a smile as the delivery had begun, but that had faded back to a more neutral expression, though the eyes were certainly not neutral.

Downcast was definitely a word for the emotion they were expressing.

"ANYWAY, that's a fine weapon you have there. I take it that it means you prefer close encounters? I will admit to seeing many of you train only in passing, but I dared not interrupt you at such important times. What I can offer our group is my skill, such as it is, with fist and foot, though not nearly as graceful as your own style, Sangrose-sama!" Another deep bow to the noble in question, the hairless grey man keeping his head low for just a bit too long before coming back up again. "It may not mean much, but I'll always serve as vanguard when the time calls for it. I apologize again for speaking so bluntly, it's just that if we're serving together, I believe it could be important we know each other's capabilities. But if you don't want to share, that's fine too! Don't want to force anybody!" Another quick bow. "In fact, never mind. Please just forget it, enjoy the fire and the stars. Warmth and a beautiful night, yes?"







 
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Old 03-24-2019, 01:31 PM
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Conversation washes past and around Colby the way water swirls, crashes, and burbles past a stone in a creek. He weathers the ebb and flow of it in the same manner, resolute but present and accounted for. His eyes and focus shifts with the tide. Once Zeek is finished and Barqas adds his input Colby returns the man's acknowledgement with a faint nod. Every newcomer to the fireside received their own look of greeting, a stoic but focused moment of eye contact to recognize them. Behind the brown eyes and furrowed brow is more than simply a hello, it's a careful cataloguing of each person. No intention is made to hide this evaluation. The look is not the calculated and judging stare of one who is careful to memorize exact details and faces. Instead it appears Colby watches people the way an impressionist takes to a canvas: with wide strokes of thick paint, focusing on the feel and form of the topic with little regards to render an accurate image in detail or scale.

The only overt change in his expression is in response to Barqas listing Colby as one of the possible 'best of us.' Colby is aware Barqas included his name for the sake of completeness, everyone who's bothered to start to huddle in this particular clique had been referenced. It doesn't change Colby's immediate distaste for the idea. Most quirk a brow when they're skeptical. Somehow Colby manages to increase the scowl asymmetrically instead, achieving the effect by intensifying the glare only on the left side. His nose wrinkles too, and the long ends of his mustaches take on a slight swing as his lip curls. The expression passes as quick as it arrives, leaving in its wake his default composure. All this talk of rank, position, superiority, authority and the Wanderlord rank insignia they gave him crosses his mind, his eyes drifting to the fire for a brief moment while he pictures it in his mind's eye. It was placed there in a measured act of defiance, instead of being pinned to his clothing for the ceremony. He didn't wear armor to the ceremony either, or weapons besides the short knife he always carries - being a tool of utility as much as war. Lei brings him back out of his momentary reverie when he makes the wise and intelligent decision to take an abrupt change in conversation topics to weapons and fighting styles. So far, it's the first engaging thing anyone's bothered to talk about. As much as Zeek's horrific backstory was interesting, if just for its morbid horribleness, at least combat is pertinent.
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Who is truly a hero?
One who will lay down his life for his friend. Not for millions, not for glory, not for fame. For one person. In the dark, where no one will ever know or see.

Last edited by DraconigenaArma; 03-25-2019 at 11:09 PM.
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