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Current Now running: World of Light: The Tale of the Dark Itself
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Forever and ever, amen
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Calling out from Scatman's world
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Called into action - by threats that seem harmonized
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Bio

Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.

Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.

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Try this on for size.

Since life first came into existence, so has existed its grim twin, death. For all things, returning to dust is an inexorable eventuality, but there are always legends of those who can cheat death. In a time long ago, far beyond all men imagine, there is a city upon a hill where legends are real.

At the peak of the mountain is the source of this anomaly: Providence. This arcane orb of incredible power radiates its Blessings weekly through the city built on, in, and around the mountain home. Called Monolith, this city is inhabited by tens of thousands of sentient golems called Workers, who rely on the Blessings to survive and must toil daily in the city to ensure that Providence, their deity, continues to sustain them. New Workers come to be as shells filled by the spirits of newly-dead humans, plucked one in five thousand from their flight to the afterlife and anchored to a mechanical body by a mirror called Salvation. With no memory of their previous life, they begin a new existence. Continued exposure to weekly blessings will, piece by piece, convert living things in the city into new Workers. In this way, the promise of immortality is real, but with a price, since no Worker may ever leave Monolith.

There is a ray of hope at the end of the tunnel, however. After an indeterminate but generally long length of time, a Worker can visit the temple of Providence and become a Traveler. Taller, more proficient in fighting and magic, and more diverse in capability and form, Travelers can leave the city for however long they wish. Upon ascending, they also regain the memories of their human life. It is a council of six Travelers, called the Journeymen, that act as Monolith's ruling body. They oversee its expansion, interaction with other nations, and superior manufacturing industry.

Monolith's origin is shrouded in mystery, but can, like all of its characteristics, be traced back to Providence. The records of the first Worker indicate that by the time he was created, the Light -Providence- and the Mirror -Salvation- already existed. Where the singularity of magic came from, or who crafted the artifact that brings new Workers to life, is utterly unknown.

So, if you want to live forever, seek the valley among the western range that harbors the legendary city of Monolith. There, you will find freedom in a vibrant solidarity of labor.

Apollosarcher said
The Red Dragon, I don't want to be anywhere near Groose... I'd more than likely punch him in the face and cut off his ridiculous hair.


That is, if you don't get impaled on it.
Apollo, is the inn you mentioned the Magtail Fort, the Red Dragon, or another, smaller one?
Had the ordeal inside the Magtail Fort been forty minutes earlier, the ground would simply have been slippery, and Gorko's immense weight would have been a blessing as it helped him keep his footing. Now, though, the rain had been falling long and hard enough to turn the less developed pathways of Castle Town to muck. Into this, Gorko couldn't help but partially sink, miring his progress as he hurried through the downpour. It was one of those dirt paths he took, having gone straight into a nearby alleyway between the tavern and the adjacent Bomb Shoppe. Oblivious to the presence of a certain salesman on his tail, Gorko trudged through the alley until he arrived at a little, hidden area.

Littered with crates, boxes, and bags, this secluded spot appeared to be a storage area for the Magtail Fort. A backdoor, little-used judging by its state, helped solidify this conclusion. Such a thing wasn't at all unusual for a grand establishment like the Fort. More unusual by far were the people that inhabited it.

The same trio that had appeared onstage now resided here. Midna, somewhat exhilarated and breathing rapidly, lay sprawled over a spare mattress protected from the air by a layer of canvas. Zant sat on the cobblestone nearby, daring to relax a little against a cask of liquor. The strange corners of his mouth made it impossible for any onlooker to see if he was pleased or upset. There was no question about Groose, however; the young man was laughing his head off. “Did you see their faces when you caught the tomato? Priceless! They're going to be talking about that for months!”

For the first time, the somber, robed Twili spoke. “That is the plan. We have planted rumors and made a big impression. Whether they believe her or not, these people are going to tell a dozen people each, and those dozen another twelve, and each time the story will grow wilder. If you are not a sensation within a day I will be most unhappy. Then we can begin to properly earn their trust. We must...”

The princess permitted herself a genuine smile. “Yes, yes,” she cut in, “I am glad everything went so well.” At the noise of heavy footfalls, she turned and became aware of Gorko. “And it would not have been possible without our dear comrade! I would never have imagined a Goron to be such an incredible actor, but you blasted my suspicions. The rolling attack was particularly convincing.”

Grinning broadly, Gorko rubbed the back of his head. “Well...I was actually trying to hit you, your Grace. Method acting and all that.”

Midna's eyes widened. “By Una! No wonder it was so believable.” She sat up, folding her cloak over herself like a blanket. “And you must really stop with the 'Grace' nonsense. If I am going to be a better ruler than Zelda, I must get to know my people. And you three are my first.”

Embarrassed once again, Gorko gave a thumbs-up and said nothing. Groose, however, jumped forward and grasped Midna by the hands, pulling her up onto her feet. Full of energy, he spun her around in a jubilant dance. Though surprised, Midna didn't seem at all opposed to a little fun. “Our Twilight Princess is heading to the top, yeah!” Groose hooted.
Zmerr, you may want to consider having Happy follow Gorko.
Okay, I just got all of my edits though. I lost the entire last section for a while there. This site is more unruly than usual tonight.
You may wish to take a second look at my post, Zmerr. I added something new, but even without the addition your post would have been inappropriate since the most recent event was about to hit Midna. Don't worry about missing the chance to interact with them, though; in my next post I'll set up a situation for you.
Splendid, splendid! I'll get to work refining Monolith.
After a few moments, Midna held her hand up an a gesture for silence. Not a second passed before she began to speak, drowning out anyone still clapping or whistling. Her voice reverberated through the room, surprisingly practically everyone present with its strangeness; its tones were all across the board, a seemingly random assortment of octaves that barely outclassed gibberish. Despite this whimsical, lilting accent, however, her words rang loud and clear.

“First off,” she sang, “No, this is not a freak show. We have come to speak to you about politics. But of course, what is the difference?” While the majority of the people still looked confused, a general easing of tensions and a smattering of smiles proved that Midna's humor had broken the ice. “As sir Groose says, my name is Midna. Midna, you might ask? Midna who? Well, that is difficult to say. My father, King Mizorant, did not have a last name to pass down to me as is your custom, so I am sadly bereft.” At her mention of her lineage, a murmur set in across the hall. For a moment, Midna stood silently, her arms folded beneath her chest, surveying the crowd. Then the stream of language began again. “Aha! I hear the whispers. What is this strange name, I hear, and if he is a king, then surely...yes! I am a princess. Not your everyday blonde damsel, pretty in pink, no!” The low voices increased; surely this strange, alien woman was not referring to Princess Zelda?

“No,” Midna repeated, tossing her head disdainfully. A frown appeared on her lips, and suddenly her charm vanished, to be replaced by a condescending severity. “I am not like our princess. There are no legends that feature the name of Midna, but for this I am glad. I read the chronicles and hear the stories, and in every age I find the same sorry tale. A budding young princess is stolen from her throne by the malevolent Demon King, and she must rely on the green-clad Hero of Time to save her. People talk of Zelda's legacy with glowing words. They say she brings purity, peace and, prosperity to Hyrule. When I look at her legacy, I see no golden glory. I see...weakness.”

A few angry shouts assailed Midna from the sea of faces. She regarded them coolly, making eye contact with every one she could pinpoint. When the commoner's brown met her own ruby-red on yellow, they couldn't help but be silent before the regal stare. One man, however, proved braver than the rest. He stood on his stool, rising above the crowd, revealing the yellow coat of arms of the Hyrulean Forces on his breast. “Zelda has been good to us, her ancestors have been good to our own, and her heirs will be good to our children! We have had nothing but kindness from her, yet this woman -who hasn't even the common decency to properly clothe herself- tries to shame her with treason. I don't know why you all are listening to her lies!

The roar of the crowd redoubled. More degradations flew Midna's way, even insults. The Twilight Princess didn't move a muscle. Finally, a voice, louder and deeper than the rest, surpassed the others. “Ungrateful!” bellowed the Goron, and the next instant a ripe tomato sailed toward Midna's face.

-=-=-

Silence fell upon the crowd like a wet towel over a candle, extinguishing all its fire. The tomato hovered in empty space, turning in slow revolution, inches away from Midna's nose. She stared at it curiously, then plucked it from the air and took a bite. There was an uncanny eeriness to the way she ate. “Nothing but kindness?” She drawled after she had swallowed. “It may seem that way. But your golden girl is not as pure as you think. Barely more than a teenager, yet she's the one running everything? Her father deathly ill out of nowhere, her elder brother shunned, her mother nowhere to be found? It all falls so...happily into place. I know all of you look at my face and see a stranger, but if you look deeper you will find honesty, integrity, and a right to the throne more powerful than blood and entitlement. You will not find...weakness!”

Midna tossed the tomato into the air, and inclined her head at her companion. Zant raised a sleeve with incredible speed and released a ball of red-pink energy. Magic collided with vegetable in midair, and the latter exploded like a bursting Bombling. Shocked, the crowd turned back to look at Midna, whose arms were raised ceremoniously.

“It's about time for a new leader in Hyrule! One that will not hide behind stone walls, a trained army, and a facade of generosity! One that will not inevitability fall victim to the Demon King, and helplessly watch this fair world plunged into darkness! One who would never poison her father, exile her brother, or betray the light of the Goddesses! Princess Midna!” In the course of the Twili's closing speech, while some of the Magtail Fort's patrons had been fleeing outside into the rain, the Goron that had called Midna out had tucked himself into a ball and started to roll. Just as he was about to smash into Midna, however, her body melted into a cloud of black particles and vanished without a trace.

Just like that, it was over. Zant was nowhere to be found, and even Groose, who had been forgotten for the first time in his life due to the excitement, had disappeared. The remaining people talked in a tumult of excitement, all wondering if their neighbors had seen the same thing they had. The Goron, embarrassed by the failure of his attempt to protect the tavern-goers by subduing what he clearly saw as a threat, checked to make sure that he hadn't accidentally crushed the scroll in his backpack before jumping off the stage. The other Goron rushed to his side. “Gorko! What was that, brother? That wasn't like you at all!” Offhandedly dismissing his friend with a gesture, Gorko hurried outside. “Bad business, brother Golo! Bad business!” he called over his shoulder as he departed. He certainly seemed to be in a rush—moreso than anyone else.
Moving around with about as much grace as a toddler in a sculpture gallery, Sanguin trundled about the expansive guild hall in search of her mask. With her fixed on the floor and much of her efforts focused on keeping her head from spinning, she didn't display much regard for anyone in her way. Despite this, she managed not to cause too much commotion as she wandered around. As the passed some of her guildmates -who had never happened to see her face before- noticed that she was without her mask and occasionally made an accompanying remark. One sharp-nosed, redheaded girl named Agitha, ventured to comment that the mask suited her better, but Sanguin ignored her. Later, after she'd found her property, she'd pay her back for the slight. Nobody seemed to be in a rush to help her recover the headgear (not even Raghu, though given his condition it was understandable) but that sat just fine with her. Neither Mary nor Chloe nor the angelic young Yukiko distracted her from the task at hand.

About fifty seconds later, Sanguin both felt better and had glimpsed a familiar salmon-and-maroon-colored shape on the floor by Fairy Tail's main entrance. “Finally!” She exclaimed before breaking into a short run to seize her quarry. Just then, a familiar woman about her own age interposed herself in Sanguin's path. Recuperated enough from her earlier brawl to be able to control herself, the Blood Moon Child stopped abruptly. Before the words 'Watch it!' could escape from her lips, Sanguin observed her obstacle's broccoli-green hair, her sunflower pin, and her brilliantly red, form-fitting qipao. Boyce. Oh, joy.

Sanguin silenced herself and stiffly skirted around the plant wizard. Brought back to reality by the brief encounter, she closed the remaining few feet before stooping to pick up her mask from beside a table leg. With it replaced, the shapeshifter looked out at the world through the eyes of a wolf once more, even in human form. As she straightened it, relying on the impressions its edges had made on her face over the months to restore it to its usual orientation, she caught Mary's question. Turning around partially, Sanguin witnessed her face cast in a ferocious glare for a split second before it melted away. Such an inquiry seemed to Sanguin to be even more nosy and pretentious than usual, especially considering that she was addressing Ben and Zy. While they had never been close, Sanguin could easily recall from experience that Ben was easygoing and childish while Zy struck her as a prankster and an attention-seeker. Neither warranted such an inquisition...did they?

She took a seat at table that her mask had been under to listen.
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