Mokley

Lantern

YandereNoodle said
So when you say no knowledge does that include knowledge before mysteriously showing up in the spooky scary woods? Like they have amnesia? Or do they remember everything besides being taken to the forest?

Your character does not have amnesia in the usual sense: they remember absolutely everything about their lives except how they got here. As far as your character is concerned, they were going about a normal day when they saw a bright light, smelled chocolate, and suddenly woke up here. How much time has passed in-between, if any, is unclear.

Lantern

Awesome! Glad to have you all aboard!

The OOC is up!

Lantern

This RP is always open to new applicants!

You awaken at night to the creaking of crickets and the sob of an owl. The air is cool and calm on your cheek; it smells sweet like rotting leaves and copper. You and your new comrades are collected on a low, circular metal platform that is half-buried in the dirt and looks as if it's been there for centuries; there are markings etched into the surface, obscured by ancient moss and creeping ragged vines.

Above, a thick rustle of leaves and mossy branches obscures the sky, but you are not without light: a weathered old lantern hangs from a high bough of a tree, held up by a thin shimmering thread. The tree -- which rises old and twisted beside you, and whose dark gnarled branch supports the lantern that is your only light -- is ticking.

The Premise

This is a whimsical, hyper-fantasy, folklore-inspired roleplay about exploration, creativity and character development. Your character will begin without knowledge, without skills, without weapons, without supplies, and without any memory of how or when they arrived in the middle of a dense and unfamiliar forest. All they have are the clothes on their backs and her own wit. Your woefully unprepared character will be presented with the opportunity to interact with their weird new environment: only through these interactions -- and the resulting domino-effect of events -- will the true nature of the forest reveal itself.

Our Heroes

Kituo Maji played by Zealous Blade
Simon Connor played by Red_massa
Anise Sinclair played by drewccapp
Robin D'Arques played by WanderBug
Eveline Lancer played by AliceInRedHeels
Mia-Canta Suzanne Risalinda Lasperritas played by Bunnita
Talan Val'Shirai played by TheDarkTemplar

NPCs

Tyaelaem, the kid in the rabbit mask
Sir Jasper Enright Neary, an older fellow with a sword and a bell
The Owl that happens to appear at all the wrong times

Limbo

Characters that have been missing for over one week or who have otherwise mysteriously disappeared

Alexander Valerian played by Pyro V
Annabel played by Tatsua Aiisen
Hato Shirudo played by Jedly
Quintiliano da Hereford played by LowKey123
Thomas Tessel played by XLegs
Arin Ackerman played by Thundercat
Hania Faye played by YandereNoodle
Peryn Graven played by NorthernGR
Isolde "Starbuck" Brisby played by Scullyosis
Elijah Bower played by Bozo
Randold Breaker played by Damiann47

NPCs
Yurei, the old lady in the woods
Reus, really big wolf

Graveyard

Characters and NPCs who are dead

Tubal Bredani played by Napoleon
Rowen Von Volfson played by 71342

Character Application

Name:

Age:

Appearance: (A description, a picture, or both.)

Occupation: (Shall be nonmagical and nonviolent in nature.)

Personality: (How your character perceives the world and other people.)

History: (Shall be in a time and place similar to the Middle Ages.)

Guidelines

• This RP will be run in the exploratory style of action and response: when a character interacts with the environment or with NPCs in any way, something will occur in response. In order to move the story forward, each character must actively touch, taste, smell, look, listen, and speak.
• Players should be prepared for their characters' failure. Decisions your character makes won't always turn out the way they expect. Characters will make mistakes, they will be ridiculed, and they will be maimed without warning.
• If for any reason you'd like to reroll a new character, simply say so in the OOC. Your character will be removed IC in a satisfying fashion, and you will be free to create another to explore with.
• Should you wish or need to permanently leave the RP for any reason, please let us know in the OOC. Your character will be removed IC.
• Nothing is what it seems.
• My PM box is always open. Don't hesitate to contact me should you have ideas, concerns, or suggestions.

Ragtag: Steampunk treasure hunting.

Awww that's sad news! I look forward to your post, whenever that may be. :) Please do feel free to make Simnia look like an idiot -- she really has no idea what she's doing.

Lantern

Tatsua Aiisen said
Seems cool enough, I'll watch this.

Excellent! It would be great to have you. :)

LowKey123 said
this IS the fucking RP for me m8, u wot

Haha, awesome! I do enjoy your enthusiasm. x3

AtSixesAndSevens said
Seems interesting...I'll keep an eye on this. May or may not join.

Yay! I hope you do. :)

Zealous Blade said
I like the concept. I'll probably join if it comes to fruition.

Awesome! Please do!

drewccapp said
Oh OH! I want in!

Excellent! Consider yourself IN!

I guess this means I should write something in a coherent fashion! It's after midnight, and I shouldn't be making big decisions, but it looks like this is (probably) going to be a go! I'll keep you updated.

Lantern

(is OPEN for new characters!)

You awaken at night to the creaking of crickets and the sob of an owl. The air is cool and calm on your cheek; it smells sweet like rotting leaves and copper. You and your new comrades are collected on a low, circular metal platform that is half-buried in the dirt and looks as if it's been there for centuries; there are markings etched into the surface, obscured by ancient moss and creeping ragged vines. Above, a thick rustle of leaves and mossy branches obscures the sky, but you are not without light: a weathered old lantern hangs from a high bough of a tree, held up by a thin shimmering thread. The tree -- which rises old and twisted beside you, and whose dark gnarled branch supports the lantern that is your only light -- is ticking.

The Premise

This is a whimsical, hyper-fantasy, folklore-inspired roleplay about exploration, creativity and character development. Your character will begin without knowledge, without skills, without weapons, without supplies, and without any memory of how or when they arrived in the middle of a dense and unfamiliar forest. All they have are the clothes on their backs and their own wit. Your woefully unprepared character will be presented with the opportunity to interact with their weird new environment: only through these interactions -- and the resulting domino-effect of events -- will the true nature of the forest reveal itself.

OOC is here! (pay no attention to the post count || no need to catch up on reading)

Ragtag: Steampunk treasure hunting.

Simnia grasped Aria's hand, gave a heave, and soon found herself safe and thankful on the deck of the ship. She continued to grip Aria for a moment afterward to be sure that she was indeed in no danger of toppling off again, what with the sway and dip the vessel was making. "Thank you," she responded, patting Aria on the arm, "I never woulda made it."

But what, exactly, had she just gotten herself into? She found a foothold and pushed herself up enough to look over the edge again, where the bold and witless captain was limping toward the ship with a rabble of bandits close on his heels. Simnia clambered a little higher and leaned over the rail; the captain leaped and slammed against the rail beside her, and she grasped a handful of his jacket while he swung one leg and then the other to safety. Simnia heaved a sigh of relief, and she pulled herself up to the rail again to look over: the bandits were still swarming, and the ship was still tethered by one obstinate cord to the dock.

She was shocked out of her thoughts by a gunshot beside her. The dwarf nearly tripped over the captain in her surprise, and saw that the culprit was a pretty young blonde with a rifle on her shoulder, aimed at the violent thugs on the dock. So she was the source of those bullets from before!

There was a cry from above, Simnia looked up, and was horrifed to see that a homeless-looking elf had ripped a hole in the balloon! The ship was sinking, the dock rose up beyond the rail of the deck, the city cast a shadow over their doomed vessel, and suddenly Simnia realized she might've had a better chance with those bandits than with these insane, incompetent, inconceivably irrational --

A falling body rolled onto the deck and Simnia squeaked and stumbled back while the deck rolled and tipped and threw her on her face; she grabbed a rigging for balance, and she was sure the bandits were trying to board now -- though why they would deign to board a sinking ship was anyone's guess! They were all crazy! Meanwhile, the one cord still attached to the dock was ripping wood out of the deck with a great cracking and splintering, the captain was roaring about insanity, the falling man was blathering, the blonde was still taking pot-shots, and that beardy elf who'd condemned them all to death was sauntering about as if nothing were wrong at all!

At least the captain had the presence of mind to cut them loose from the dock, and the ship lurched and swung and tipped and -- somehow straightened out and stopped falling.

By this time, Simnia's hair was frizzed in all directions and she looked more like a crazed lunatic than any of the actual crazed lunatics onboard. The deck leveled serenely, and she clambered up the rail and leaned over to look up at that hole that should be the end of them all, only to find that it had been patched with remarkable, imppossible speed. She was, apparently, losing her mind.

But the ship still wasn't moving forward.

"Dariq!" Simnia called automatically, remembering the name the captain had mentioned. "I'm looking for Dariq!" She caught the eye of the raggedy elf, and her own eyes widened in horror. Was this Dariq? The one that had decided it was a good idea to rip a hole in the ship? This was the oddball in charge of making sure they all didn't end up crumpled in the bottom of a ravine? Granted, he had somehow kept control over the situation, but the thought was still nauseating.

"I'm a mechanic!" she called firmly to Dariq, who was impossibly taller than she was and much better armed -- but Simnia could roar like a lion. "I'll help you get us moving!" Granted, she'd never set eyes on an airship engine before, but it couldn't be much different or more complicated than a train engine, right?

Ragtag: Steampunk treasure hunting.

Hey Deth, we're going to assume that your character has patched the hole in the balloon, right?

Edit: Went ahead with that assumption. Also, sorry that's a lot longer than intended -- catching up on 3 days of insanity!

Ragtag: Steampunk treasure hunting.

Who's 'Nissa? Who's 'Nissa? Simnia stiffened and glared. The nerve! The blatant, narcissistic disregard for fellow innocent lives! Of all the cowardly, selfish, purely elven --

The captain shouted at them, and Simnia glowered at him from the depths of her livid heart. When she turned to the damnable elf again -- intending to carry her aboard if necessity called for it -- Elani was gone. She later caught a glimpse of the elf leaping gracefully (as elves are wont to do, the showoffs) across the gap and into the ship, without so much as a backward glance. "Elves!" Simnia threw up her hands in exasperation, convinced that she would never trust an elf as far as she could throw it.

And then she saw that she was alone with the bandits.

Well, almost alone. Everyone had scurried into the ship -- and even the friendly shots had stopped firing -- except for a single feisty redhead, who with her sword was the last woman standing, the last defense and the only one besides the captain who held off the mongrels so the others could escape. If the ship left without her, she'd die a hero's death. But Simnia was still mad.

The dwarf picked up an apricot, tested its weight in her palm, and then with a mighty fling of her arm she let it fly. The apricot slammed into Aria's opponent's jaw, and Simnia had already prepared another apricot missile.

"Get to the ship, Strawberry!" she hollered at Aria, just as another apricot smacked into the bandit's eye. She held them off a little longer with a barrage of fruit, to give Aria and the captain time to make a run for it -- but the moment they backed away, Simnia chucked one last apricot into the fray and bolted for the ship.

A Cold Wind Blows...

"Once, a long time ago, up high on a snowy white mountain, a great tsar lived in a shimmering palace, where the courtyards were summertime even in winter, and golden apples grew on the trees. But every night, while the castle was sleeping, a great fiery bird would swoop down out of the sky, and snatch one of the tsar's golden apples, and fly away on his great fiery wings -- woosh ... woosh! -- with the stolen, shimmering apple clutched tight in his claws."

Chiudka leaned forward in her chair til it creaked and threatened to topple her for the way she waved her arms and curled her fingers and wooshed over her young audience, while the proper adults swung their pints and pretended to be better than legends and fairy tales. She cast a sly smile around the tavern -- and though she competed with a chorus of raucous song and several men chanting Adrian into yet another drink, she caught several ears turned her way.

Her father owned one of them, and Jaroslav another. He'd arrived alone and looking well, with a promise that Tjasa would follow him shortly. Probably perfecting her braids for the new hat that her grandmother had given her, Chiudka thought with a grin. Indeed, Gotsiana sat near the door with a new puppy her lap, and she leaned eagerly forward every time someone let in the snow, hoping Tjasa in her pretty hat would be swept in with it. Chiudka very seriously considered that Tjasa's late entrance was very much on purpose. She would be sorry for her grand entrance when she missed the best part of the story.

"Finally, one night the tsar had had just about enough of that thieving fiery bird, and he called his three sons to him, and he said --"

IT COMES!

The door was open, and a blast of snowy air carried the shrill warning -- and though the voice clearly belonged to Nadeen, it wasn't a voice any of them had heard before.

Chiudka gathered her skirts and rose to her feet while the men pushed outside and the emptying tavern quickly grew chill. For a still, dark moment the seats were empty. The fire crackled. She took a step, and hurried with another, and suddenly the doorway was filled with familiar and weathered faces twisted so fearfully she didn't quite recognize them. Her first thought was avalanche, and her heart dropped into her stomach.

Viktor pushed children into her arms, and she hushed them and herded them gently toward the others. Everything would be all right, she whispered, the tavern was built of great blocks of stone to protect them. But that sound -- a skittering rumble, less like the roll of stone and snow, more like the hiss of leaves on a dark storm wind. Where was Tjasa?

She was frightened by proximity to the terror of strong men, but she was terribly curious to see what horror could cause their eyes to grow so wide. And Tjasa was still not among them. She pushed her way through the crowd, and the closer she got to the door and to the cold and to old Nadeen's screams, the harder she pushed. Stay there, Mama, she said, and she slipped past the push of people and stumbled out into the stifling snow.

Her breath clouded before her face, and she looked left. She saw Vasily's silhouette, guiding Nadeen, quiet now, back toward her cottage. Good. Good. Another breath billowed, and she looked right, and in the swirls of snow she saw a familiar shape. In one breath there was relief and an urgent fear: "Tjasa!" Chiudka gathered her skirts and sprinted, kicking away the snow. In the corner of her eye, something dark was approaching.

Chiudka nearly crashed into Tjasa and grasped the girl's arm in both her chilled hands. "Hurry, we have to go, come on!" And then, through the white billows of their breath, she followed Tjasa's gaze.

It wasn't real. Her eyes were playing tricks on her, making her see things that couldn't exist. It was a dream, a nightmare, a terrible fever that she would wake from at any moment. But even in her dream, she squeezed her dear niece's arm and barreled through the snowdrifts for the tavern, just as she heard the echo of a door shut tight.