Dusty

Hidden In The Forest (Closed)

@CaptainSully Sorry to do this to you my friend, but its 1994, no handy dandy cellphones to get our crew out of trouble. Robert can be listening to music out of an... MP3 Player, I think those were early 90s.

Long ago, in a kingdom far far away. (Fantasy appcalypse, more details to come.)

Brother Alfwin

Theme

Male

Human

Fourteen

Standing at a slight meter and a half tall, Alfwin is on the smaller side, thin and with a gaunt face and stick like arms. His hair is a dark brown, cropped evenly across his head, with only the sides allowed to grow out. He dons the simple brown habit of the order's monks, with a cloth belt around his waist and sandals upon his feet. Altogether his pale features and slight frame gives him a frail appearance, as if a strong breeze would be able to push him over.







*Pious*Trusting*Optimistic* - *Meek*Cloistered*Rash*

*Despair*

A cheery and optimistic soul, Alfwin is a high spirited young fellow, apt to be lost in his own little world rather than fixated on the present. When and if he is drawn down from the heavens in order to focus on a necessary task he proves to be an excellent student, quick to learn and eager to experiment and try new things. The only challenge being to successfully direct his energies towards more refined obligation. Alfwin’s upbringing in the order fashioned him to be a pious child, trusting greatly in the lonely goddess and her teachings. His power after all is drawn from her. The lonely goddess instructs her faithful to remain charitable and passive, diplomatic and understanding in all their endeavors and trials. Alfwin embodies this attitude to an extent. He is meek in the face of true violence, having never even seen a proper fight, though he can be sharp of tongue and wit when allowance for nonphysical self-defense is acceptable; never in earshot of the brothers of course. Alfwin abhors it when folk are in poor spirits, doing almost everything in his power to cheer them up again. He draws a great deal of joy from people being happy, and can be infected quite easily by the negativity that poor attitudes bring with them. He is terrified of the despair death brings with it, and seeks to counter his feelings of hopelessness by becoming overly optimistic, encouraging the impossible to be within reach, just to see a smile on a dying man’s face.







Upon the holy hill, then untouched by the black curse that swept the lands, rested a serene monastery of the lonely goddess so pure. Here her monks and clerics sang their hymns and chants, toiled in their fields, and inscribed in their great tomes in peace and without want. Healers and scholars all, they were a charitable community, content to worship their goddess and treat those who requested her blessing. Without question nor demand they fed the hungry, healed the broken, sheltered the weary, and welcomed the unwanted stranger into the warmth of their home. For centuries it had been this way, ever since the lonely goddess first taught her faithful to create remedies for the ill of body and spirit, and by her powerful magic perform miracles of healing. For this reason the monastery saw many needy pass through its gates seeking healing for the sick and dying, pleading that the monks aid them in their suffering. No one but the violent and evil was refused at their gates, and even though the monks would give everything they had to those who asked, they always seemed to have just enough. So they worshiped, and healed, and lived happily.

One day a young foreign lord, a man of wealth and power arrived at their gates, and though the monks, with their trained eyes looked they could see no ailment nor curse upon him other than fear and crippling grief. Once admitted he cast himself upon the floor before the Abbot’s feet, his handsome face marred by tears and ash, his feet and head bare, and his clothes torn by his own hands. There he begged the Abbot ride with him at once back to his home, where his young wife lay stricken by a terrible infection with their first child, yet unborn. She remained too ill to travel, and by his physician’s mournful estimate lay close to death's door. The Abbot felt pity for the young lord, and though he wished dearly to help he could not abandon his beloved monastery to accompany him. He was an elderly man after all, frail and of weak health himself, unable to go galloping across the world at great speeds without serious risk. Instead he suggested the service of a youthful novice to attend the lord’s wife in his place. The lord implored of the Abbot to supply his services directly, promising to dedicate his child to their order, if only he would save their lives. He trusted only the most powerful of the order, and when he looked upon the novice the Abbot offered, he felt his wife would surely perish. Moved by his devotion to his loved one the Abbot placed his hand upon the man’s ashen brow, and swore upon the lonely goddess herself, that no blessing, nor power would be bestowed by him, that wouldn’t be gifted to another. Naught else but the prayers to the lonely goddess, and great hope and acceptance could restore the health to one so stricken.

Dejected the man departed the monastery to return to his homelands, wracked by misery and hopelessness. His new companion seemed unsure of himself, and could make no promises of his expertise in healing unrecognizable ailments by magic or otherwise. Nevertheless they pressed on for three days until they arrived at his estate, to the welcome of mournful song and black banners draped across the walls. Wailing the lord prepared to rush to his wife’s bedside when the novice grasped him by the shoulder, hushing him. “Fear not,” he cried, “For I know she is not dead, but sleeping. Your servants have been fooled.” The lord was unconvinced and struck the novice upon the cheek, crying out in anger that he was a fool and a worshiper of a false god. Humbled the novice walked behind in silence as they were escorted into the wife’s chambers. Already her face was veiled, and pale as in death. And yet upon seeing her the novice cried out again, exclaiming joyously, “See, did I not say it was so? Praise be to the lonely goddess; awake her.” Thus declared the novice offered a prayer in thanks and stepped forward, lifting the veil and casting an ethereal light over the woman, shocking all present. In a moment the women’s face cleared, her disease healed. The lord fell to his knees and praised the lonely goddess, and the novice whose magic brought back his beloved from the very brink of death.

For several months after the novice returned to his monastery the monks heard nothing from the lord again. They went about their lives as usual until the sound of hooves announced the arrival of a great entourage. There the lord sat, high upon his proud horse, beside him his wife now in full health and in her arms a tiny bundle. Descending from his place of power the lord sank to his knees, taking the bundle from his wife and laying it down at the Abbot’s feet, giving praise to the lonely goddess and dedicating his firstborn to her service, a promise at last upheld.

Little Brother Alfwin, as the baby became known was at once indoctrinated into the order’s ways. Learning their methods, their hymns, and their prayers and growing up under their care and guidance. His parents traveled often to come visit, and were pleased with his education and upbringing, eager to see their child learn the ways of healing and restoration they now held so sacrosanct. Although he was something of a trouble maker, Alfwin still made a good novice, studious and intelligent and with promising magical talent. His love of fun, and his high energy made him well liked throughout the monastery, and the brothers would often find him sitting in the infirmary telling jokes and funny stories to the sick and injured, trying to raise their broken spirits.

Alfwin spent much of his time at his studies, memorizing the vast array of plants and oils that could be brewed into different healing drafts. Scribbling them down again, and again into great tomes in order to drill the information into his head. Besides his writing and reading Alfwin was taught the chants of the lonely goddess, songs infused with powerful words that mend the unamendable, all while praising her glory and her great mercy. Every so often Alfwin would lose interest, and become restless, pulling pranks or speaking crassly as a child might. Should he go too far in his personal amusement, he would be humbled and chastised by the brothers, set to sweeping out the library or some other such extracurricular chore. To avoid these instances, when Alfwin he felt fit to burst from youthful energy and boredom the monks would allow him to take their donkey to buy good from the small hamlets dotting the countryside, and play with the children there for a day or so before he would have to return to his education.

Life seemed good to Alfwin, and though it seemed there were its ups and downs he appreciated his upbringing and life, right up to the moment when everything changed. Alfwin wasn't quite sure when it happened, or even where it started. He was on the road, riding swiftly to Lesser Hamenshire to purchase a new spade for brother Cal when the sign of smoke above the trees alerted him to trouble on the horizon. Everything seemed to spiral into disaster from that moment on. His arrival into Lesser Hamenshire revealed the corpses and burned dwellings which left a hole in young Alfwin's heart. He knew most of these people well, and to see their lives having been violently wrested away by some unknown evil shocked him to his core. Turning about he made great haste back towards the monastery, wishing to warn the Abbot of a terrible army ravaging the land, until he saw upon the hill, the smoke and flame rising from his home.

It seemed to Alfwin as if a great weight rested in the pit of his stomach, and he knew, that no brother remained alive. The family he'd come to love were gone, and whatever had taken them did so without mercy nor consideration to those who'd never done harm in their lives.

The sight of figures coming from the hill, rapidly approaching broke Alfwin from his grief. In an instant he knew those few were not brothers from the order, but some race of orc, uncommon creatures here. Abandoning his donkey Alfwin fled into the local woodland, hiding amongst the shrubbery. Perhaps fate itself guided his feet, or some other force of nature set him on his true path. But somehow Alfwin found himself wandering into an ancient legend, even the order's once great library knew little about.








Medical Knowledge

Not all the monks’ teachings are that of magic and worship. They are proficient healers in their own right, knowing how to create and use a vast array of medicines, healing potions, salves, and poultices. In fact for a healer to be skilled in the realm of medical arcane he must know how the body of his patient operates in detail. Alfwin was given these lessons first, as all the order’s brother are, and was required to learn the art of medicine before even starting his training in magic.

Restoration

Alfwin was just beginning to acquire knowledge on how to use his magical talents to their fullest potential. He knows the words of the songs, which contain the magical words quite well at this point, and can identify the cause and cure of ailments, however he can only slightly tap into his abilities. Healing bruises and cuts, or clearing colds are all well and good, but further intensive studying would be required for him to fully master and control the restorative magic at his fingertips.

Scribe

From the moment he could be taught to hold a pen, and scribble his letters Alfwin has been instructed to write almost constantly. Even at fourteen his script is perfect, and his capacity to understand many written languages and runes are masterful. He even keeps a journal within which he writes any and all useful information.

Agriculture

The order always grew their own food, or hunted it in the local forests, being largely independent of the nearby hamlets. Many of the professional botanists within their ranks had developed a branch of magic entirely devoted to increasing the bounty of their labors. Alfwin never learned these techniques, being far to young, however like all the brothers he was required to toil in the fields on the regular, familiarizing himself with the concepts of agriculture and farming.

Trade

Perhaps the least refined of Alfwin's skills is that in trade and bartering. Due to his frequent forays into the local towns, under orders to purchase the occasional item he has developed a knack for haggling that most of his order does not possess.

Quarterstaff

The order does not teach its novices to fight, even with the sturdy walking staves all its members own. However anyone with a lick of sense can swing the staff to drive away an rabid dog or menace a ruffian. Alfwin of course hasn't the build to menace even a stray cat, but he carries his staff anyway as instructed.

Hidden In The Forest (Closed)

@Vertigo Well, he fits in nicely with our little group of misfits. And although I can't say much on his survival, I can guarantee you his new car isn't going to make it.

Intergalactic Space Adventurers- [ISA]

The sheriff hesitated for only the briefest of moments before he made his decision. “Tell ya th’ truth, I’m thinking I’ll stay aboard an’ keep blastin’ those cannons. I ain’t th’ sneaky type, not my style, so I wouldn’ be ‘elping you nor Emmett none, an’ I ain’t a looter. Wot I’m good at is shootin’ an’ brawling, so ya c’n count on me to ensure none of em scampin’ two-faced larva-bait pirates come aboard an’ take over while yer off gallivanting through th’ corsair’s halls. I’ll remain here, hold th’ fort down, create a perimeter, an’ perform operation control, y’know police shit.” Jean tipped his hat to the Ursa, just as the final shielding crumpled away.

“Best of luck to ya Miz Cooper, an’ if y’all get in a spot of trouble just holler for reinforcements. I’ll come storm th’ place.”

---

Chaos reigned on the pirate bridge as numerous laser volleys tore through the oversized fowl that now dominated the ship’s prow. One of the blasts got lucky, hitting one of camouflaged cameras creating a one-legged giant chicken preforming its name-sake dance in outer space. It was quite traumatizing for some of the more avian races amongst the crew, one of which fainted dead away. Though, perhaps that might’ve been due to Nafaerio’s metallic fist slamming into anyone nearby in an attempt to regain order throughout the startled crew. His dominating voice rose loud over the ensemble of shrieking and squawking and gurgling and he stood tall atop the edge back rest of his durasteel throne, his massive hand clutching the throat of the unconscious avian pirate he’d knocked out.

“Quiet, quiet th’ lot of ye! Silence I say, tis nothing more than a hologram, see yer shots go straight through. Be quiet before I flay ye all wit’ th’ cat-O-nine-tails ye gibbering, pathetic pack O’ curdled swine!” It took some time before the crew calmed to the point where Nafaerio could make sense of the situation, behind him the massive bird continued doing a very offensive chicken dance, one of its legs still missing. “Targeting, where be th’ little smuggler craft? Did they try’n jump to hyperspace?”

“Er, Cap’n, yer holding th’ poor chap by th’ throat.”

Nafaerio glanced down at the strangled crew member he was holding, releasing a growl of annoyance as he tossed the corpse away. “Hell be damned, one O’ ye scabs who knows how to operate his station scurry up here and do a fucking scan!”

“Aye, aye Cap’n.” A little weasely creature with yellow fur and absurd bulbous eyes scurried up and pressed a few buttons on the command board. After a few seconds of silence he scratched his head, looking nervous. “Eh, they be right below our hull-line Cap’n, off our aft.”

“What in th’ name of Zagggith are they doin’ there?”

“Boardin’ Cap’n…”

For a moment Nafaerio looked stunned, unable to fully grasp the Targeting’s words. He slumped back into his throne, stroking his chin, one eye locked on the dancing chicken as if interpreting its dance to be more meaningful than it was. “Tricky… Tricky little fish.” He murmured, ignoring his stunned crew who sat about, clutching their barbaric weaponry awaiting their despot’s orders. Curling one of his dreads around a cybernetic finger Nafaerio stood, turning on a heel and marching from the bridge. “Targeting, I don’ care wot yer name is, you’re in charge. Set up a defense an’ try to capture th’ enemy ship, and set guards to protect my bridge.”

The little yellow creature looked thrilled, his small chest puffed out as he stood a little straighter, gloating over his once peers. “Aye Cap’n, at once Cap’n, won’t fail ye Cap’n. Say… Where ye off to Cap’n?”

“Engineering.” Nafaerio snapped, before vanishing out the door.

A large number of pirates patroled in groups of three to five, prowling about the cruiser’s halls, guns at the ready. Another force numbering twenty and three rushed immediately to the rear of the ship, intent on boarding and capturing the Ranger. Meanwhile the cruiser’s main crew, about ten in total along with another eight guards protected the bridge, weapons bristling from every hand, tentacle, and claw. They maintained the anti-slip-space field, and kept the cruiser’s weapons ready to fire should the Ranger attempt an escape.
Nafaerio was nowhere to be seen…

Long ago, in a kingdom far far away. (Fantasy appcalypse, more details to come.)

I'm interested in joining this, and I already have a Cleric healer character that I've been wanting to use. A few tweaks and he'd it right into the world you have set up here.

Hidden In The Forest (Closed)

@Raptra @Vertigo @Sockofpancakes @MissCapnCrunch @CaptainSully

First IC is up, post to your heart's content. Stuff's gonna start kicking off real fast, so enjoy the peaceful moments while they last.

Hidden In The Forest (Closed)

The cheerful August sun sat low in the sky, beaming down upon the lonely white sedan that bumped along the dirt roads running parallel to Pic River. The northern shore of Lake Superior was in full bloom. The lush green pines intermingled with the standing elms and proud oaks shrouding the mountains in a blanket of forest green. Wild flowers populated the fields and valleys, while tiny pebbles washed back and forth on the lake’s gentle shoreline. The car seemed so out of place in this world of natural beauty, bouncing and jolting across the uneven path. Eventually it scrunched to a halt, its old breaks squeaking ever so slightly before the engine spluttered and died, casting the woodlands once more into peaceful silence. The vehicle’s doors popped open a moment later and two figures stepped clear. The first was a young boy by the name of Samuel. He was a sandy haired youth of fifteen years and he possessed an excited air, and beamed brighter than the sun above as he rushed about to the rear of the car, popping the trunk. He was followed by a large chocolate lab named Jake, who which barked happily, rushing off to sniff the trees. The third was clearly the boy's mother, a middle-aged women of similar hair and complexion, but unlike her son’s khaki shorts, sandals, and good cheer, her own dress and high heels and anxious expression betrayed her clear discomfort in their current environment.

Joining her Samuel around the back of the car she tried to help by grabbing ahold of a yellow plastic bin, with a tape label sealed to the top, with the words: ’Tent/Fishing/Cooking’ inscribed upon it. She gave a valiant effort but soon surrendered, moving out of the way so Sam could lift the crate clear, setting it down with a thump on the grass beside two others.

“There’s not a lot of people here.” She said at long last, as Sam finished taking the last of his camping gear from the trunk. He grinned back at her, his arms full of disassembled fishing lines.

“I know right, isn’t it great?” He bundled the poles down next to the crates, making a show of staring up and down the abandoned beach. “People are scared of bears for some reason, so it’ll pretty much just be us and the park rangers out here all week. I saw a few tents on the way up, but it looks like the direct shoreline is completely clear.”

“I suppose, it’s just, your friends aren’t here.” She worried. It was true, Samuel’s five friends had yet to arrive, and by her watch they were starting to be a little late. Their scenic surroundings contrasted poorly with her worried attitude. Where Sam saw a picture perfect camping spot, she saw danger and lonesome hills for miles around. “Maybe I should stay, just for a little while, so we can be sure they know the right spot. I wouldn’t want you out here on your own for six days…”

“They know where to go, besides, I've got Jake.” Sam reassured her, glancing up the road as if he expected a line of cars to just appear around the bend at any moment. “We went over it like a hundred times. They're just late, it’s a long drive after all, we can’t exactly account for that. Which reminds me, you don’t want to be late for your flight.” The implication was enough to convince her to start leaving, but she fretted for a few moments more anyways. Grasping at straws and excuses to remain a couple moments more. At last she grasped Sam by the shoulders and planted a kiss on his cheek, ruffling his sandy hair. Sam dodged away from her, embarrassedly wiping away her kiss and smoothing out his hair. He was used to these sorts of affectionate displays from her, but she somehow always managed to catch him off guard. At least his friends weren’t around to witness it like usual.

“Stay safe, and if you have any problems at all find a park employee and call Mr. and Mrs. Wynn, they’ll be closest. And don’t you dare touch one of that boy's cigarettes, or anything else you would be embarrassed to tell me about. Don’t give me that look, I’ve seen Duncan with a packet in his pocket before, I'm not blind. I’ll be back here Monday to pick you up. So be ready. And-”

“Alright, I’ll remember. Bye now mom, see you next week.” Sam waved her farewell, cutting off her instructions which were liable to go on for several minutes. He ushered her into the car, closing the door for her and everything in a series of not so subtle hints, requesting her absence. “I’ll be fine, I promise. What could go wrong?”

His final words to her struck at her heart as she brought the car’s engine roaring into life. She drove away, watching him wave and disappear in her rearview mirror. She could think of so many things that could go wrong, oh so many things.

Hidden In The Forest (Closed)

Monday Afternoon

Campgrounds, Pic River Outlet, Indian Reserve
Pukaskwa National Park; twenty miles from Marathon, Ontario.

Miraculous America

“One… Two… Ah c’mon guys, we can’t just stand out here arguing about what to do all day. I haven’t got time to kill.” Serpentine argued, encouraged by Talon’s more ambitious tactics, but still held back by Furitta’s cautioning. She stood, uncertainly in the middle of the road, the first in line for the barrage of gas bottles hurtled from the window. They arced like a wave of silent meteors taking Serpentine completely by surprise. The foremost purple bottle clanging against her head and releasing a purple haze that clogged her mouth and nostrils. Stumbling back she coughed and gagged, trying to hold her breath and cover her stinging eyes as she became enshrouded in the toxic mist. She succeeded partially, having only breathed in a minute fraction of the gas released around her. Stumbling around blind, her lungs near bursting she ran clear of the cloud, smashing her way into the café door to escape the repulsive torment. Rolling upon the floor she rubbed desperately at her eyes, all sense of reason and direction lost. She felt woozy and disoriented and nauseated all at the same time, unable to shake the vertigo enacted from the fumes she inhaled.

Gagging she struggled to stand, her eyes still squeezed tightly shut, unable to see and unaware of the practical wall of knockout gas that separated her from the rest of her team, or Barristris who stood only a few meters away. Groping about blindly until she found a table to support herself on Serpentine sniffled, wiping away the snot that had collected on her face. “Stay out of the gas!” She screamed, hoping the others possessed the good sense to jump away when the first bottle struck her. She hadn’t heard their voices for a while, and felt a stab of panic at the thought that they might’ve been knocked unconscious, leaving her alone. “Talon, Usagi, Furrita? Are you guys there?”

Hidden In The Forest (Closed)

@Sockofpancakes Certainly! Make a CS and jump on in, in fact, if you'd like to take over I'd be totally fine with you grabbing the reigns.