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@Hellion was missed!
I'm sorry you lot, real life stuff be coming up and I'm gonna have to back out of this here - better that than try and post stuff then likely disappear anyways. Good luck to you all!!
Will there be a thread for us to post our Sheets on and whatnot, or are we just going to post them here in the interest check??
Very sorry for your loss @Scrivener. I'm about to go into work tonight so hopefully I can brainstorm a bit and get some ideas rolling tonight and tomorrow!! I'm a tad notorious, least in my own mind, for being a bit slow in building a sheet, but I assure you it won't be for want of trying lol
You have my attention, my friend. High Fantasy be one of my favorite genres!!
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@LetMeDoStuff NSF could be a cool place to start, get us immediately into the cold corporate aesthetic while giving opportunity to change sides from the start. No better way to build a criminal record than by starting with a clean slate!
Always a fan of Cyberpunk!! I'll toss my hat in!


Edric Beaumont



Edric clung to the Elf's words like holy scripture. The blood had been shed decades ago, it's true. But the scars on both sides still ached with the pain and bitterness of grudges unsettled. War did little to solve disputes - it was the town bully pressing your face into the mud until you did as he said. In the grander scheme, it did nothing for the factors that started war in the first place, just delayed it from starting again. Brevyon remembered. The kingdoms overseas remembered. And the Elves, more than anyone, remembered.

At Arendal's use of the word 'possibility', Edric chuckled. It was a coughing sort-of sound, with its intention uncertain. Was it a mocking laugh at what Edric presumed as ignorance? Or a bemused acknowledging of the immaterial?

"Small forts like this rarely have the capacity for tremors that I've been sensing. Seem to find those in cultist lairs and necromantic ritual sites. But here--" Edric stopped. His voice did not trail off as much as it had simply stopped abruptly. He had turned a corner, and seen something to give him pause. Before him laid the Dead Resting. Skeletons, some clad in rusted armor, still clutching onto blunt weapons. Scattered they were: some perched against stone walls, others fallen atop each other, with one or two still bearing the mark of a violent death. That being a blade plunged through now-hollow ribcage, or a dirk through the eye socket.

"Oh." Was all Edric could say.

And the Dead began to shift.
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