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- Harbringer 12 yrs ago
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Why is ecology so dry...
Bio
20 year old skinny asian living in Australia. Nothing much to say really. Despiser of the YOLO generation. Acts more like a crochety old man.
Has two dogs. Pets them a lot and applies the same logic to humans too.
Most Recent Posts
He might have bailed
Well. Until then, I can run a filler arc. The only thing stopping me is the thought of incurring Wk's wrath and derailing his plans.
Marcus XVI said
Do ya smell that? It smells like a filler arc! ^w^ What are we gonna do? A pasta eating competition? Backstory that'll never be talked of again? Attack from these really dangerous fellows who'll never be mentioned again? A trip in to someone's psyche?...Maybe Cadogan could have a manic close to death vision of a possible future...
TO THE BEACH / PUBLIC BATHS / HOT SPRINGS FOR SHENANIGANS!
Day 2371:
I fear that WK may have been in a horrible accident, and currently reside in a coma. Things look grim as the cast of Feral wander aimlessly around Adalrich. Yesterday I saw Torva revert back to his feral nature in the absence of his guiding conscience, licking his genitals after he dragged his buttocks along the ground. Garran entered a gambling den with Fiora and has not been seen since. I fear he has spent all of his amassed fortune. At this point, I believe that it would be in our best interests to attempt a temporary arc to rekindle the flair of life in the case, otherwise it may be too late.
I fear that WK may have been in a horrible accident, and currently reside in a coma. Things look grim as the cast of Feral wander aimlessly around Adalrich. Yesterday I saw Torva revert back to his feral nature in the absence of his guiding conscience, licking his genitals after he dragged his buttocks along the ground. Garran entered a gambling den with Fiora and has not been seen since. I fear he has spent all of his amassed fortune. At this point, I believe that it would be in our best interests to attempt a temporary arc to rekindle the flair of life in the case, otherwise it may be too late.
Gotcha.
Nodding wordlessly, Eltharion turned away. The little skirmish had ended and the strange creatures seemed to be in retreat. The elves had very little dead and wounded compared to them, thankfully, but that probably would not last long if they continued to stay on the beach. Even a mighty carnodon could be overwhelmed by a pack of gnarri. "Ysril, Phari, grab Lloriel's shoulders and take him back to the meeting hall," he said, directing two of the stronger pathfinders to carry their wounded comrade back, "the rest of you, through the forest. Guide those who stray from the path and kill any intruders who are not elves. turn back any reinforcements." Seemingly without question, the pathfinders started to move out, leaving Eltharion to turn and survey the battlefield. It was a mess. Corpses littered the sand, with arrows jutting out and swords half buried. Blood ran thick, running rivulets through the ground as it dropped towards the ocean. Battle was a senseless waste of life, he thought as he turned back. Launching himself into the forest's canopy, he soon disappeared from sight.
The meeting hall was brightly lit by rays of sunshine which streamed through the window, illuminating the group which moved within. The sixteen pathfinders were all gathered, the ones that remained away from the beach having kept order in the city, and their wounded companion was curled up on a bed of leaves in the corner, his wound smeared over with their herbalist's poultice. "So it's true then," their leader said as they sat around their great table, "we are going to war with an unknown species?"
"Aye," Eltharion replied, having pulled down his face covering and hood out of respect to reveal a severe, angular face, "it seems they are smaller and weaker than us elves, but they have many times our number."
"But would it not matter?" replied one of the elves who had not been at the attack, "if they are weaker, would they not dash themselves against our walls?"
"Not likely, from what I have seen," Iltharis replied, the smile gone for once, replaced by a grim visage, "they seem to possess a sense of ingenuity. They have tamed a wooden beast of the sea to give them fast transport..."
This news silenced them for a few seconds. If they could do that, what was stopping them from simply floating over their walls? Who knew what wonders they had under their control. "Even so," Aelthanion said as he steepled his fingers, "we must defend our walls with all our might." The rest of the pathfinders nodded their heads in agreement "The great tree of Harinus watches over us," their leader said, stroking his goatee, "and it is our duty as its guardians to ensure that its pure waters remain untainted by blood."
"To do anything otherwise would be heinous," another ranger replied, shrugging his shoulders.
"How shall we organise ourselves?" a winter ranger asked, his pale skin shimmering under the sunlight, "we are but sixteen elves against this horde."
"We can submit our forces into the Prince's keeping," replied a summer ranger, her yellow, sun-kissed skin at odds with her amethyst eyes, "I am sure that he can make use of-"
"I would not be so sure, Alana," Eltharion replied, his arms folded over his chest as he glared over in her direction, "from what I've seen so far the prince cannot even command a small detachment, let alone a whole city defence."
"Hold your tongue, Tevinter!" snapped another Summer ranger, his teeth gritted as he slammed his fist onto a table, pointing his other hand at the slouching Autumn Ranger, "I will not idly sit as you slander our great prince!"
"Then stand, Ephamel," Eltharion replied, remaining as calm as the eye of a storm, "I care not what stance you take, but from what I saw, our prince is not worthy of his title, bar his ability to fight. He would do better as a common warrior rather than a commander."
"YOU FILTHY LITTLE-!" Ephamel started, reaching for his blade. The other rangers reacted, but Eltharion was the fastest. By the time the elf had his weapon half drawn, his opposite already had an arrow nocked in his bow and was balanced on two legs on his seat. "Sit. Down. Ephamel," Eltharion said slowly, his eyes little larger than slits as he eased the rear of his seat to the ground, keeping his arrow pointed at the offender's chest at all times, "we may be kin in this room, but I will not suffer any threats made against me, as idle as they may be."
"Both of you, unhand your weapons!" boomed the voice of their leader, accompanied by tendrils of magic wrapping around their limbs and ensnaring them, dragging them to their knees, "we already have wolves at our gates and you wish to be at each other's throats!?" Scoffing as he shook free of his bonds, Eltharion picked his seat up and resumed his slouching posture, leaving his bow and a single arrow on the table as a reminder to the Summer Ranger, who glared back with equal ferocity. "In any case," Iltharis said, her voice as clear as a bell in the ensuing silence,"I believe we should make contact with the prince and inform him of our movements. Our duties as scouts does not exempt him from our information network, and I am sure that he will be the lynchpin of the defence, whether he deserves it or not." she said to be diplomatic, in a thinly veiled attempt to bridge the gap.
"I have no objections to this," Eltharion said, knowing the wisdom in the Spring Ranger's words, "if we connect our network with that of our military's we will have a clear picture of our situation."
"The question remains," Alana said as she idly combed her golden locks, "who will the liaison be?"
"Why not send Ephamel," Eltharion said, pointing in the Summer Ranger's direction with his nose, "he seems to be keen on brown-nosing the Prince."
"Don't you start with me again, Tevinter!" Ephamel said, leaning over the table.
Before anything else could transpire, the door to their chamber burst open and a hurried looking messenger panted as he leaned on the door frame. "Pathfinder Tevinter," he managed through gasps for breath, "Prince Anaroth requests...requests your presence...please attend to...attend to him immediately." A moment of silence followed as the gathered elves looked around at each other. "Looks like the liaison has been decided for us," Iltharis said, her mischievously innocent smile back on her face. Letting out a silent sigh, Eltharion stood up, slinging his bow over his back. "Relay any important information to me as it comes," he said as he adjusted his quiver, "I believe I will spend the remainder of the defence at the Prince's side." With that, Eltharion pushed past the exhausted messenger and descended the stairs cut into the wood, eventually coming out into the sunlight. From here, it was easy to see why the messenger had been so out of breath.
The meeting hall of the Pathfinders was far from the city centre, and on one of the tallest trees that they could find. The easiest route was to climb along the branches onto the landing platform, but for those not inclined towards acrobatics, there was a long flight of winding stairs up to the hall. Unlike the messenger, Eltharion simply descended with a few hops, skips and jumps, landing onto the main level of Mithreal. And it was in chaos. Children, mothers and the infirm were being led towards the temple. Eltharion scoffed. At least the prince had the sense to get the non-combatants out of the way. With this, they wouldn't have to worry about the creatures killing their young. Leaping from the roof of a small crafts-shop, Eltharion stumbled a bit as he sought to avoid a running child, barely managing to land on top of the creature as he rolled to the side. It didn't help that he was walking against the current. Pulling his hood down and facecloth up, the pathfinder leapt off of the main path and started to climb across the alternate, more dangerous paths. It would be faster this way.
"You called for me, my Prince?" Eltharion said as he dropped down from above Anorath, landing on the stage in a crouch with nary a sound but a dull thud. "While you have called me here, I should also inform you that I am your liaison with the local pathfinder information network. I will inform you of any findings that my compatriots are able to discover."
The meeting hall was brightly lit by rays of sunshine which streamed through the window, illuminating the group which moved within. The sixteen pathfinders were all gathered, the ones that remained away from the beach having kept order in the city, and their wounded companion was curled up on a bed of leaves in the corner, his wound smeared over with their herbalist's poultice. "So it's true then," their leader said as they sat around their great table, "we are going to war with an unknown species?"
"Aye," Eltharion replied, having pulled down his face covering and hood out of respect to reveal a severe, angular face, "it seems they are smaller and weaker than us elves, but they have many times our number."
"But would it not matter?" replied one of the elves who had not been at the attack, "if they are weaker, would they not dash themselves against our walls?"
"Not likely, from what I have seen," Iltharis replied, the smile gone for once, replaced by a grim visage, "they seem to possess a sense of ingenuity. They have tamed a wooden beast of the sea to give them fast transport..."
This news silenced them for a few seconds. If they could do that, what was stopping them from simply floating over their walls? Who knew what wonders they had under their control. "Even so," Aelthanion said as he steepled his fingers, "we must defend our walls with all our might." The rest of the pathfinders nodded their heads in agreement "The great tree of Harinus watches over us," their leader said, stroking his goatee, "and it is our duty as its guardians to ensure that its pure waters remain untainted by blood."
"To do anything otherwise would be heinous," another ranger replied, shrugging his shoulders.
"How shall we organise ourselves?" a winter ranger asked, his pale skin shimmering under the sunlight, "we are but sixteen elves against this horde."
"We can submit our forces into the Prince's keeping," replied a summer ranger, her yellow, sun-kissed skin at odds with her amethyst eyes, "I am sure that he can make use of-"
"I would not be so sure, Alana," Eltharion replied, his arms folded over his chest as he glared over in her direction, "from what I've seen so far the prince cannot even command a small detachment, let alone a whole city defence."
"Hold your tongue, Tevinter!" snapped another Summer ranger, his teeth gritted as he slammed his fist onto a table, pointing his other hand at the slouching Autumn Ranger, "I will not idly sit as you slander our great prince!"
"Then stand, Ephamel," Eltharion replied, remaining as calm as the eye of a storm, "I care not what stance you take, but from what I saw, our prince is not worthy of his title, bar his ability to fight. He would do better as a common warrior rather than a commander."
"YOU FILTHY LITTLE-!" Ephamel started, reaching for his blade. The other rangers reacted, but Eltharion was the fastest. By the time the elf had his weapon half drawn, his opposite already had an arrow nocked in his bow and was balanced on two legs on his seat. "Sit. Down. Ephamel," Eltharion said slowly, his eyes little larger than slits as he eased the rear of his seat to the ground, keeping his arrow pointed at the offender's chest at all times, "we may be kin in this room, but I will not suffer any threats made against me, as idle as they may be."
"Both of you, unhand your weapons!" boomed the voice of their leader, accompanied by tendrils of magic wrapping around their limbs and ensnaring them, dragging them to their knees, "we already have wolves at our gates and you wish to be at each other's throats!?" Scoffing as he shook free of his bonds, Eltharion picked his seat up and resumed his slouching posture, leaving his bow and a single arrow on the table as a reminder to the Summer Ranger, who glared back with equal ferocity. "In any case," Iltharis said, her voice as clear as a bell in the ensuing silence,"I believe we should make contact with the prince and inform him of our movements. Our duties as scouts does not exempt him from our information network, and I am sure that he will be the lynchpin of the defence, whether he deserves it or not." she said to be diplomatic, in a thinly veiled attempt to bridge the gap.
"I have no objections to this," Eltharion said, knowing the wisdom in the Spring Ranger's words, "if we connect our network with that of our military's we will have a clear picture of our situation."
"The question remains," Alana said as she idly combed her golden locks, "who will the liaison be?"
"Why not send Ephamel," Eltharion said, pointing in the Summer Ranger's direction with his nose, "he seems to be keen on brown-nosing the Prince."
"Don't you start with me again, Tevinter!" Ephamel said, leaning over the table.
Before anything else could transpire, the door to their chamber burst open and a hurried looking messenger panted as he leaned on the door frame. "Pathfinder Tevinter," he managed through gasps for breath, "Prince Anaroth requests...requests your presence...please attend to...attend to him immediately." A moment of silence followed as the gathered elves looked around at each other. "Looks like the liaison has been decided for us," Iltharis said, her mischievously innocent smile back on her face. Letting out a silent sigh, Eltharion stood up, slinging his bow over his back. "Relay any important information to me as it comes," he said as he adjusted his quiver, "I believe I will spend the remainder of the defence at the Prince's side." With that, Eltharion pushed past the exhausted messenger and descended the stairs cut into the wood, eventually coming out into the sunlight. From here, it was easy to see why the messenger had been so out of breath.
The meeting hall of the Pathfinders was far from the city centre, and on one of the tallest trees that they could find. The easiest route was to climb along the branches onto the landing platform, but for those not inclined towards acrobatics, there was a long flight of winding stairs up to the hall. Unlike the messenger, Eltharion simply descended with a few hops, skips and jumps, landing onto the main level of Mithreal. And it was in chaos. Children, mothers and the infirm were being led towards the temple. Eltharion scoffed. At least the prince had the sense to get the non-combatants out of the way. With this, they wouldn't have to worry about the creatures killing their young. Leaping from the roof of a small crafts-shop, Eltharion stumbled a bit as he sought to avoid a running child, barely managing to land on top of the creature as he rolled to the side. It didn't help that he was walking against the current. Pulling his hood down and facecloth up, the pathfinder leapt off of the main path and started to climb across the alternate, more dangerous paths. It would be faster this way.
"You called for me, my Prince?" Eltharion said as he dropped down from above Anorath, landing on the stage in a crouch with nary a sound but a dull thud. "While you have called me here, I should also inform you that I am your liaison with the local pathfinder information network. I will inform you of any findings that my compatriots are able to discover."
So what shall we do about WK's untimely death at our hands?
Take your time. Look to your mother's care first and your internet recreations second.
Who IS still here in curiosity?
Huh...I think I may have just created a new unit...sorry...tell me if I need to change anything. Also, Eltharion seems to be a bossy arsehole so far, which is very different from what I envisioned him.
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