As she watched the others begin to prepare and cook the Elwets they had killed. Akeno found herself grateful for the fact that she had been dragged into this group. Had she been hunting alone as she had originally planned, she doubted she would have been able to start a fire, let alone do all of the cutting, draining and de-organing necessary to make the birds palatable to eat. Though she had said she could cook a little, it was always in a kitchen with pre-prepared ingredients, well maintained modern tools and an actual oven.
In other words, her mom’s cooking lessons had not prepared her for a survival situation.
Grunthor was trying his best on the other side of the fire, but considering that she hadn’t seen him remove the innards, including the apparently very iron-rich liver, nor drain the body of blood first, she didn’t expect the end result to taste very good at all. Or even be safe to consume, for that matter.
Taking Esfir’s invitation for what it was, Akeno sat down by the fire near to the other Orc. The cooked meat smelled surprisingly good, the aroma not much different from a normal barbeque, though given the lack of seasoning or anything other than, well, the meat itself, she expected the taste to be a little bland. Still, food was food and the smell was making her remember that she hadn’t eaten anything since dying.
Reaching out to take a piece from the pile Esfir had divided up for her, Akeno remembered her manners and quickly pressed the palms of her hands flat against each other first. “I humbly receive this food.” That out of the way, she picked up a piece and took a bite.
How big are these planes meant to be? Because so far the character sheets make them sound like isolated continents, whereas I was picturing them as whole worlds forming part of a multiverse.
@Dead Cruiser I'm interested and have a concept, but I have a couple questions.
First, is it a problem if our characters ultimate goal is to kill Chaos rather than bring him back to serve him?
Second, can the Shard of Chaos take the form of a sentient creature? Or rather, if it had the form of a sentient creature before my character killed it and that's how they acquired the shard?
after much thought, I will use everyone's ideas. Here's how it'll go, one of us has sent a letter to everyone regarding what happened (doesn't matter who and I will fix it in post) and we will meet up in small groups ultimately meeting up in Bradena and go from there, sound good?
I never really specified where Gideon had set himself up or where the adventurers guild was located, but I think it would make sense for it to be in Bradena. Casperus was likely his home nation and the city is obviously where he met everyone else, so I think he would have returned there after everything happened.
We could say that he was the one to send out the letters to everyone else to come and reunite back where it all first started. He can use some of the adventurers from his guild to track down the people who are a little more out of the way or whose locations are less known; giving the letter to a party heading out to the nomadic lands and asking them to keep an eye out for an Orc ranger would probably work better than using a courier.
If everyone is okay with that then people can come find him at their leisure, either heading straight to him or meeting up with each other in the city before going to him last.
Seems like we're starting in Gwangju, anyone have a good reason for meeting there? Maybe we got an old base here or a tavern everyone used to go to
I don't think the post was implying we're in Gwangju. It's only been three days since the events of our character sheets, so for a number of characters it wouldn't even be possible to get Gwangju that quickly.
Not sure how we're even going to have everyone get in touch right now, since they're all scattered and out of contact. Gideon is a semi-public figure at least, so if anyone wants to head his direction that's fine with me.
Calling a blizzard. Rapid strikes. The latter explained what Grunthor had been doing to the tree; the skill probably worked like her own, substituting muscle memory and letting him punch faster and harder than he could otherwise. Though unlike her own, his seemed like it was just a single move and not a full martial art. It was also, if Akeno remembered correctly, one of the skills she could have learned instead of what she’d picked.
The former was not one she was familiar with. Nor was it something she had seen Esfir do during the fight; something magical like that thing the other orc had speared the chicken with? Actual magic. Summoning a blizzard, or at least a snow storm, out of thin air. Crazy, if it was true.
At least now she had names to call the others by; two of them at least. Better than giving them nicknames in her head and accidentally blurting one out at some point. “Akeno. My skill is just… karate. I get some bonus stuff when I’m using it.”
It almost felt like a waste, picking something she already had for her skill instead of something new or even something magical like the others apparently did. Akeno didn’t regret the decision, even if at the time it had been made more out of emotion than out of logic; the fear that if she didn’t pick it then she wouldn’t be allowed to keep it at all. That she would lose the skills and knowledge she had worked for. It was an unfounded fear, as it turned out, but even though she had passed up some other interesting skills in doing so it still felt like the right choice.
It was, after all, the only skill offered to her that she couldn’t get in this world by other means.
She could learn rapid strikes from eating an animal that could hit hard and fast. She could even learn magic from eating something that could use magic. But there wasn’t anything she could eat here that would let her learn Goju-Ryu as a skill; not unless there was a dojo somewhere around her that somehow knew traditional Okinawan karate.
“I can’t make anything; all I can do is fight and cook a little bit. Pretty sure we’d need better materials to make armour though; leather or metal. Might be able to make a shield out of wood though.”
Well, that was the first step over and done with at least.
Morgana had never made a contract with a spirit before, even though she knew the principles behind it, and this was already a very unconventional situation given that the spirit had already manifested in their world and had no contract or master to speak of; even so, binding and sealing were among her specialities so she was confident that her makeshift solution would work. If anything, she had expected actually getting the Roggenwolf into the circle to be the hard part; she couldn’t possibly anticipate Madeleine managing to befriend a conceptual being of the harvest.
Still, in the circle it was, which meant the next part was all on her.
“I can’t promise it will be a complete pleasant experience. As I said to the spirit, I was expecting an unwilling participant and structured the circle as such; it won’t hurt them, so long as they don’t try and fight this, but they may feel… restricted for the time being.”
Half of the work she’d put into the thing had been making sure it could contain a spirit that was trying to forcibly extricate itself, after all. Ever since the Roggenwolf entered the circle, it had bound itself within it; not permanently, not irreversibly, but it would find it difficult to move from where it currently stood, should it try.
"I’m not much of a witch these days; I’m more of a heretic.” She’d never learned anything from being a witch other than the wrong way to things anyway. “The ‘other side’ is not a true plane of existence like Heaven or Hell, or even the Fae realm. It’s less definite than that. The spirits reside in a place that is more a mirrored reflection of the plane where we are right now, a place slightly off centre from us rather than a separate place entirely.” Or so they believed. Everything Morgana had read on the subject, and she had read quite a bit about a lot of subjects, said as much; proving it was another matter, but it hadn’t been disproven either. In other words, it was the leading theory, but there was always room for improvement in their understanding. “Spirits are conceptual beings; they aren’t… real in the way that we are. Our existences are our own and are not dependent on anything but ourselves, but spirits only exist because other things exist. In the case of the Roggenwolf, it is a corn spirit; most of them are tied to a specific cornfield and can only exist as long as it does. That’s why the solution to a Roggenwolf if often to simply cut down the corn until only a single stalk remains, in order to contain it.”
But this one had been summoned; it had no field, only a master feeding it over their connection to allow it to exist on this plane. Or at least, that was how it was supposed to go. Without a master it would eventually return to its own plane by itself, with this plan just being a way to speed up the process.
“Truthfully, I only know the basics of spiritlore. It’s not my area of expertise, though sealing and binding is and those are fields often closely related to the handling of spirits.” She waved a hand to gesture at the circle. “I know how to do this, but not much about their nature. Anyway, that’s enough distraction. I’ll make the contract now.”
Morgana walked forward, stepping closer to the circling binding the Roggenwolf and locking eyes with the spirit. As before, it stared back with a strange sort of understanding in its eyes. Clearing her throat, the witch began to pour mana into a connection between herself and the boundary of the circle she had drawn.
“Hmm, how should I word this? A binding resolution requires the right syntax after all. No need to include anything related to your summoning since you are already here; the focus should be on the agreement and the bargain. Let’s go with… Spirit of the bounty and the harvest. By my words an offer is made, and by my deeds see it repaid. My oath is thus; submit yourself to this beckoning, submit to this will and render unto me a service. If you abide by this call, let a covenant be struck.”
Despite the fact that Morgana spoke no differently than normal and despite the fact that she weaved no visible magic, the words rang with a strange quality. The air felt heavy with the weight of their meaning. “A little ostentatious, but that should suffice. A single service; that is all I ask, that is all this contract should require of you. Then I can end it and you can go home. But you need to agree to it.”
Both of you are good, go ahead and move it over. I also wanted to get everyone's opinion, I'm remaking my character to be a barbarian. Should I make an npc healer we could all control, or do you guys think we'll be fine without one?
I intended for my character to have some healing powers anyway, along with some buffs he can put on people. We can cover with rest with potions or something.
“Hmm, well, I suppose I’ve been known by a few names over the years. I was called Gideon of the Glade in my youth and some would still call me that even now, though I’m miles away from that glade and haven’t returned in years. Some call me Sir Gideon, even though I was never properly knighted and never wanted to be; I suppose the armour makes people think otherwise. These days I’m mostly commonly called Guildmaster Gideon, because of my role.”
“But despite all the titles, real, deserved or otherwise, I’m just Gideon Fairbright. Or just Gideon, if you prefer.”
Splendid, and your age?
“Oh, 30…ish.”
Fantastic, and your gender good hero
“Male.”
Excellent and of I know what you look like but for the sake of our readers?
“I have to describe myself? But wouldn’t it make more sense for you…? Never mind.”
“Well… I’m a little over six feet tall. I have brown hair, shortish and swept to one side; err, the left side. A beard. Ah, when in combat I wear plate armour with dark blue… I guess a kind of shawl over my shoulders and a belted skirt around the waist. The belt itself is rather ostentatious; silver and gold with a very prominent shield-like design on the front; it was a gift and it does offer me protection.”
“What else… ah, forgive me, I’m not very good at this sort of thing. A picture? Yes, that would work better.”
Excellent. Excellent, and how do you act on most days, you know, your mannerisms, your quirks and such. What makes you, you?
“Oh, that’s an even tougher question than the last one. I’ve always thought you could never really get to know a person just by asking what they’re like. Very few people are able to be objective about themselves after all; we always think much too highly or way too little of ourselves for that.”
“But I’ll do my best.”
“…When I was a young man I suppose I was fairly… full of myself. I was a big fish in a very small pond and that gave me an inflated sense of important. And that, in turn, made me quite arrogant. Meeting Madame Ravenwood and being dragged into her adventures was quite an eye opening experience, let me tell you; once I saw what the rest of the world was like and just how many other big fish there were out there, I realised that I wasn’t nearly as important or special as I thought.”
“It was a… humbling experience. One that I am grateful for.”
“Since then I’d like to think I’ve matured a little. I am aware of my accomplishments and know that they were not meagre feats, but I was not alone when I did any of them and if I hadn’t been there, there are plenty of other adventurers who could have taken my place. I am considered a hero, because I was in the place I needed to be when I was needed; nothing more.”
“Nonetheless, I know that I am strong and that I have things I can teach to others. I know I still have duties to perform. I am not being self-deprecating when I say I am nothing special, I am merely maintaining a sense of perspective, to avoid falling into the same pitfalls I did as a youth. I became the guildmaster of one of the largest adventurer’s guilds on the continent in part because people admire me more than they should, but I accepted the position because I felt I was suitable for it and so that I could pass on my knowledge and experience to others. So that I could watch other the next generation and so that I can keep my finger on the pulse of this continent’s goings on.”
“So to answer your question, I suppose I would say that I am humble and grateful to those that put their trust and faith in me. I am diligent, both to my responsibilities to those under my protection and also to the looming threats of this world. And I am… always trying to make myself and those around me better and stronger, so that we can face whatever comes next.”
Mhm, and your abilities magical or otherwise? If you use magic, what is your discipline? do you use it for battle, defence, healing?
“Well, I can give a basic description, but I’m sure you’ll understand why I can’t divulge too much information about this.”
“To put it succinctly; I am blessed by the waters of my home. They grant me magic that allows me to cast protective spells around myself or others, to ward off harm and avoid danger. Curses and such don’t have much effect on me, even without spells, and any that do manage to stick I can usually deal with. I can also do a little healing and my combat magic isn’t too shabby either; though obviously I have a little trouble against opponents that can resist a little splash of water.”
“I’m also a fairly capable swordsman and fighter. That armour isn’t just for show and neither is that fancy sword I carry around. I’m much stronger than average, due to that same blessing and I don’t recall ever being sick since I was a child, or even being fatigued; I suppose I’m just all around healthier too.”
Yes, yes, and before everything that transpired, what was your life like? Who were you?
“It’s an old story and easily found, so I don’t mind telling you; there was a myth in my village about an ancient King of Fairies who used to rule the land on which we then lived. That part of the continent used to all be one vast forest, until people came along and cut it down to make way for farmland and roads and towns; the story went that as the forest was cut down, the fairies who drew their power from it gradually lost their magic and their kingdom mostly collapsed.”
“Though they possessed of strange and powerful magic, the fairies were not warriors and had no way to defend the forest through force of arms. So instead, the King ordered that his subjects create wards to avoid detection and to subtly warn people away from the areas of the forest they most wanted to protect. But, as their powers shrank, the wards began to fail and even those areas were soon cleared away; all except for one, anyway. Supposedly there were still some areas that remained hidden and protected and anyone who could find them would be able to find some kind of secret fairy treasure.”
“Stories of hidden treasures aren’t that uncommon; half the adventurers in my guild are chasing after some old myth or another trying to find one. But this is the one I grew up with and it certainly inspired a lot of the kids in my village to spend their days running off into the woods looking for fairy rings and hidden spots. I was no different. I wasted many afternoons in those woods looking for… something. I was bound to get into trouble eventually and sure enough, one day I was out wandering through a part of the woods that the other children all avoided because they thought it was too dangerous; wolves were common there, supposedly. I found no wolves, but I did find a nice long drop down the side of a cliff that I couldn’t see through all of the underbrush. I stepped through a bush and found nothing but air under my feet.”
“I landed in what seemed like another world at first. Everything was so bright, the sun was shining down on this little spring that was just sparkling; crystal clear and surrounded by flat grass littered with wild flowers. It was just this perfect little glade, hidden away deep in the woods. And right there, sticking up out of the water, was an old, rusted sword.”
Gideon smiles and points to a gleaming sword hanging on the wall to his side.
“That sword.”
“I walked out into the water. I remember it being cool and soothing to the injuries I had gotten from the fall; not that I as even paying attention to the pain at the time. All I could think about was the sword. When I grabbed it, it just felt right in my hand, despite being far too large for a boy my size and covered with rust and grime. When I pulled it free, it was no longer old and filthy, but shining and glorious; like it is now.”
“That was when I heard the voices. From all around me. The voices of the fairies. The ones who lived in the glade and who had been watching me since I fell. To see what I would do. See, that glade was one of those protected places I mentioned; one of the places warded and hidden away so it would never be found. Which explained why the other children were so afraid to go there, but didn’t explain why I wasn’t. The ward didn’t work on me; I wasn’t scared away, instead I walked straight to it and I could see the spring after I’d fallen down there.”
“And the sword? That was supposed to be hidden too, but I just walked right up to it and picked it up no problem. Apparently, that sword was crafted by the King of the Fairies centuries ago to be used by a chosen protector; someone who could fight and defend their forest where they could not. But though the sword was forged, they never found someone to wield it. Until then.”
“By picking up the sword, I had made myself their new protector.”
I would have never guessed, and what were your relationships with your comrades, are you still friends? Maybe lovers? Bitter rivals? How do you see them in your eyes
(I’ll leave this empty for now. Hit me up if you have any ideas for past relationships.)
So that's how you worked with each other, and how was your relationship with Madame Ravenwood? Nothing but good I hope?
“Ah, well, Octavia was… I said before that I was rather full of myself as a young man. After finding the sword I had spent the next few years dealing with various minor threats around the region; monster sightings, bandit tribes, wild magical occurrences. The magic of the fairies allowed me to deal with those things fairly easily and I thought that meant I was something special; a chosen hero out of legend. Then one day Octavia showed up in my small village, chasing after some monster which she had been tracking down, and I… hmm, I guess I wanted to show off a little”
“Mind you this was a few years before she formed her group of sellswords; before the group of heroes that everyone now thinks of when they hear her name was a thing. I hadn’t ventured far from my village at that point and she was the first real adventurer I’d ever met. I offered to track down and defeat the monster for her, thinking myself more capable than her and she refused; very politely I must stress, but a refusal nonetheless. She said she had no need for my help and that… didn’t go over well with my younger self. I was angered, my pride wounded and I… well… I challenged her to a duel.”
“I lost, of course. Absolutely and completely… I never stood a chance.”
“It came as a shock, as you can imagine. But… I think it did me a world of good. My ego needed deflating, before I got myself or someone else hurt. Octavia left the village soon after, once she’d dealt with whatever she was looking for, and I left too not long after that. A bit of travel would help me to grow, I thought, and I suddenly had a desire to see what else was out there, over the hills beyond my village.”
“The next few years I spent as an adventurer myself. I travelled, saw new places, met a lot of people… I gained perspective and experience, both of which I had been lacking, sealed away in my village. Eventually I made my way to Bradena, where I met Octavia again and signed myself up to become a member of her sellswords.”
“The rest of the story, I’ll assume you and your readers already know.”
“So, what was my relationship like with Octavia? She was my friend. My mentor. My inspiration. I miss her dearly.”
I see, and.....did you know?
“Hmm?”
Did you even guess, did you even have the slightest idea?
“…”
Do you even realize the amount of shit you heroes are in?
Gideon stands up from behind his desk, hand reaching out to grasp the sword that is always in reach and currently hanging on the wall of his office.
What made you think you could defeat him so easily? WHAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD DEFEAT US SO EASILY?
Rather than answer, Gideon casts a spell. A subtle blue glow overtakes his empty hand as a thin layer of water surrounds his body and the air around his swells with moisture.
We almost did it, almost, but then you heroes and that bitch! Well no matter, you and your comrades will get yours soon enough!
“You failed before. You’ll fail now.”
YOU WILL NEVER DEFEAT HIM, DEFEAT US! NEVER! (cue explosion with lots of blood and a little guts)
When the explosion of blood and guts hit Gideon it was simply… swept away. The water around his body moved to swipe away the viscera and the grime before it even had a chance to touch him and the now sullied water threw itself away from his body and was replaced with fresh water, clean as the spring he had found his sword in all those years ago.
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