Twhirtley

Wooden Swords Won't Be Enough (Ebonfort)

The first of the squires, young orc, reached the center of the arena, long sword and heater shield in hand. The creature had already found a new target, a human man nervously clutching his wooden hatchets. He slowly stepped backwards as the creature edged toward him, mouths drooling, glistening the grass below. The man quickly glanced around him, looking for aid. He saw a female katzheer nearby and a few others standing nervously. The creature charged and the man leapt to the side, just barely being missed by one of the tooth filled maws. He turned, slashing hard at the large creature's side as it thundered past. The wooden axe head struck a bony plate and splintered in half. Not willing to give up, the man stabbed with shattered handle and found purchase, between plates at the back leg joint. He growled victoriously before the creatures tail struck him hard, and threw him several feet back.

The squire hadn't seen the successful attack, and charged forward, shield braced ahead of him, slashing downward. The sword didn't break, but it was bounced from the bone plates on the creature's shoulders. The monster turned, and lunged at the young man, who had managed to get his shield up in time. The creature's jaws clamped around the shield, attempting to tear it free. The squire growled as he was pulled around, attempting to pull back, but managed to keep his feet, his arm locked into place by the shield straps. The other head tried to get around the shield, to snap at the man, but was being fought off by the sword. The creature was momentarily focused on this damned squire.

The man that had been thrown by the tail strike was struggling to get up, seeing a few of the combatants still fighting each other. What were those fools doing? Did they not notice the monsters nearby, or were they simply stupid and uncaring? The man was fairly certain at least three of his ribs were broken, but still he rose. He looked back at the creature watching a squire get knocked bodily away by that damned tail, his steel kris daggers being scattered across the grass.

The Screamer watched with bloodlust in his eyes as the creatures wreaked havoc. His Warlord would be quite pleased with his attack. He could feel his magic draining, as he pumped as much into the portal as he could. He estimated he could keep it open for a halfstretch with how much he had into it now. The foolish knights and civilians weren't even paying attention to him, aside from that ogre earlier. Who would've thought that an ogre made the smartest choice? Keelie would love that story later. This attack might get him back in her good graces after his failed raid on a caravan a tenday ago. He hoped so. The Warlord of the Blood Vines was not known to be forgiving.

Ebonfort

Out of Frigmount - Has been completed by @Drache who has received her first Reward Review. Congratulations and well done.

Btw, this is an excellent example of using various skills, specifically Riding, Horsemanship, and Familiary at their appropriate skill levels, as well as the sort of detail that nets higher skill points. So if improving your writing (or you just want more points :P), and you want to read a fun story, read this :D

Ebonfort Solo: Out of Frigmount

This RP has received its Reward Review and is now closed. Congrats Drache!

Ebonfort Solo: Out of Frigmount

Skills
Riding (Horse): 5
Horsemanship: 5
Observation: 3
Familiary: 3
Negotiation: 2
Leadership: 2
Planning: 1
Wilderness Survival: 1
Scavenging: 1
Land Navigation: 1
Hunting: 1
Intimidation: 1

Knowledge
Suspicion: Something Amiss Outside of Frostfell
Familiary: Becoming One with Khona
Familiary: Marking with your Familiar
Suspicion: Frigmount has been Gone for Hundreds of Years
Location: Stone Crest
Location: Ebonfort
Location: Knight's Tournament

Other
Receipt for the Sale of Fjord (Bruin) to Lord Kharik
Medium Coin Chest (1000 Gold Pieces)

CS Notes
Add the skills to your existing skills.
Create a separate section for Knowledge, and add those in.
Add the things in the Other Category to the appropriate CS sections.
If you have any questions on the Review system, or anything at all, please don't hesitate to let me know :D

Ebonfort

I'll be posting in all of the Ebonfort RPs today, with the exception of the 2 quests. Those close today to those that haven't done their initial post. So if you wish to join either of them, this is your last chance.

Ebonfort

@TartanO88 - Time System in the Wiki under Resources ebonfort.wikia.com/wiki/Time_System

Ebonfort

Also, for those still interested in joining one of the two quests, and haven't done so, I'll be closing both quests to new participants Wednesday evening. So get your first post in before then.

Ebonfort

You certainly can be a half elf (though pick the type [Drow, White Elf, or High Elf currently]) and half human. The only thing that adjusts is your racial bonus. You can choose either the bonus from Human or from whichever elf you choose. @TartanO88 Feel free to ask anything, anytime :D

An Early Morning Disturbance (Ebonfort)

As Trix listened to the gargoyles rather broken sentences, finding it odd that his grasp on Common was so poor. Pretty much everyone in the empire was fluent in Common, even if they were born with another tongue. She certainly didn't know much about gargoyles, but this one certainly didn't seem distressed, so that wouldn't be a good excuse for the broken language. But that was neither here nor there, not really. The female Knight was in her undergarments on her table, letting Trix see the damage done.

Edoward was fidgeting uncomfortably, his face flushed red. Trix rolled her eyes, "Out. I'll call if I need you." She might be as inexperienced with unclothed people of the opposite gender as he was, but only in the romantic sense. She was, after all, a medical professional, and it was part of the job. Her eyes passed back to the shoulder wounds. They were a finger's width wide, and a few inches long, oozing blood slowly, puffing up a bit, reddening. She wasn't in danger of bleeding out, but infection was always an ever present danger. Trix gathered a jar of honey from her supplies, and mixed in the powdered herbs from her mortar, turning the gold substance a dark green. Once the mortar was cleaned out, she put as many of the primrose petals as would fit. She then used a twisting motion in addition to the pressure based grinding, and managed to eke out a few droplets of oil, dropping that into the honey-herb concoction and mixed it thoroughly.

She grabbed a pan and her wineskin and moved into her apartment, where the hearth was rolling heartily. After pouring the crimson liquid into the pan, Trix set it upon the stones in the fire, and waited for it to boil. As soon as it did, she came back and set it on a counter and dunked a few rags into it. "Edoward, in here now." The Knight arrived, still looking a bit pale. "I need you to hold her arms. She will likely wake up and thrash in pain. Don't let that happen. It will cause more damage. This is more important than anything else right now. If she screams, ignore it. If she fights, resist it. Understand me?"

The young man, a hint of green now in his cheeks, nodded, gulping heavily. He gripped the woman's strong, lithe arms from her body side, allowing Trix access from the top end of her body. Trix slipped a band of leather between the Lieutenant's teeth, then pulled out one of the hot, soaked rags, took a deep breath, and pressed it into the left shoulder wound. The sudden heat on the exposed wound forced the woman's eyes open wide, a guttural scream echoed through the building, her neck arching back, her chest attempting to do the same, but was kept down by Edoward. Trish ignored the woman and scrubbed out the wound making sure she didn't miss anything. She had to scrub hard, wash away some of the flesh that had already died. The herbalist repeated this to the other wound. It took several long, agonizing minutes, but she had to be thorough.

Once the scrubbing was done, she applied the honey-herb salve to the wounds and grabbed her sewing kit. After threading it, and dunking it in the heated wine, she gently squeezed the flesh to the side of the wound, and pushed the needle in. It slide across the gap and she pushed it in, then up through the other side. She cut it, and closed it with a doctor's knot, completing the simple interrupt suture. She continued with this until both sets of wounds were closed, the lieutenant now a bit more calm, though still breathing heavily. When she was done, she coated the sutures in the salve, then wrapped up her shoulders in clean rags.

Cleaning up her hands, she watched the woman's face, seeing her relax now that the pain had passed. She was conscious but not quite ready to maintain a conversation, and Trix figured she'd drift off to sleep soon. The herbalist moved outside for some cooler air and to examine her other patient. Just from a glance at the cloth and the blood, or lackthereof, on it, she knew his injury was superfluous. Maybe he just wasn't a fighter. There was nothing wrong in that. She'd never fought anyone or anything. She decided it would be better to not question it.

She sat down upon the soft grass, ignoring the chill and dampness of the dew. She just looked at the gargoyle, studying him, his gaze, his very minor wound. Her eyes fell on the gore covered dagger, thinking that maybe he'd fought after all. "Thank you for bringing her to me. It was very brave. Not everyone would have bothered. So thank you Mister...?"

A caterpillar was starting it's ascent up one of her plants. Many gardeners might have plucked it and killed it, but not Trix. She petted it as gently as she would her darling plants. This was its home as much as it was hers. "Oh how rude of me. I'm Trix, and welcome to my garden."

Sector X (Invite only)

"And you've got your cell?"

"Yes Nat."

"And my number programmed in?"

"Yes Nat."

"And the money I gave you for lunch?"

"Yes Nat."

"I won't be too terribly long, and I'll call you when I'm done."

Natasha stepped forward and hugged her little brother, whispering her love in his ear. Benjamin hated what she did, saying that she should use her powers for good, like the heroes from his comics. But they needed to eat, needed a place to sleep, and she wanted to make him as comfortable as she could. It wasn't easy living on the run, especially for him. He was young when they'd left their parents, didn't understand why they had to go, why they couldn't get help from the authorities. He was slowly coming to terms with their life now though, but she could see the underlying sadness in his eyes. Especially with their dad's birthday coming up. They called from a burner phone each year on their parents' birthdays. And each year, it ended in tears, begging them to come home, and shouts of anger and frustration. And each year, Ben's heart broke a little more.

Nat looked on as he entered the Arlington Museum of Art, paying for his ticket. At least he had his hobbies to keep him busy, leaving all of the worrying to her. She checked her watch. It was about fifteen minutes until the auditor arrived at the First National Bank of Arlington. It had been rather simple to snoop into the less secure offices of the bank and see the schedule. A single man with complete and unimpeded access to the vault. Nat's plan was a bit riskier than normal, but would pay out better. Enough that her and Ben could settle down somewhere, finally have a home. A place to call their own, that would always be safe from the men that had chased them out.

Nat quickly made her way to the parking structure of the bank, an underground lot, already making herself invisible to others. She wore her hair in a tight bun, had a pair of cosmetic glasses, and a tight fitting skirt suit, accompanied with a pair of flats, and carrying a bound portfolio, empty of course. One would normally expect heels, but by wearing flats, Nat needn't focus on muffling the sounds she made. A Mercedes pulled into the lot as Nat watched from her place by the secure employee elevator. A well groomed man stepped out, briefcase in hand, looking very much the part of an accountant. This must be him.

He made his way toward her, using his ID card to unlock the elevator, and Nat slipped in quietly behind him. She stood behind him, back straight, face grim, still maintaining her unseen nature. Her disguise was simply for the cameras, the security team. They would simply see an auditor and his assistant on the screen, while all others would see the auditor alone. She followed him through the security protocols, through his meanderings to his temporary office, his need to get coffee, and finally, after a couple hours, to the vault.

The vault door was left open, so that the auditor could go back and forth as needed. This was Nat's time to complete her theft. She waited until the auditor's back was turned, and she grabbed a wrapped block of hundred dollar bills from the back of a shelf. The moment she picked it up, it would be as invisible as she. She then made the show of moving in front of the auditor, nodding, as if he were talking to her. Nat then turned toward the door, ready to make her rather easy escape. Then the lighter vault gate slammed shut, though the heavy door remained open.

The auditor looked up, "Oh, not again. Why do the guards always pick me to prank like that?" Sighing, the auditor continued with his paperwork, when a man and woman appeared at the gate. They both stared through glasses at where Nat stood, "Oh, but this isn't the prank. The prank is in your "assistant" there." The woman's voice had been cold and taunting, "Assistant? I don't have an assistant? What are you talking about? Who are you people, you don't work here."

"Then someone should tell her that."

With that, the man raised a hand, and a brilliant flash of light shot forth, blinding both auditor and Natasha. She cried out, dropping to a knee, her invisibility instantly fading. The man cast the woman a look, "I know, I know, two minutes left," then looking at Nat, "Come with us, or stay here and be captured as a fraud.

Nat's eyes still hurt, and she had a splitting migraine. "Who are you?"

This time the man spoke. "Those who will either help you or destroy you. We must go, now."

They didn't mention anything about Ben, so she hoped that they knew nothing of them. She was certain she could escape later if needed. Nat nodded at the locked gate. The woman rolled her eyes as the gate waivered away, as if it evaporated, revealing that it had never been closed at all. It was an illusion. Nat picked up her money and stepped through with her captors. As they made their way through the bank, she saw the horror they'd wrought on the way in. Every single person had burn holes where their eyes had been, pained faces as they lie there, dead. The woman's illusions must be the only reason the authorities were not yet there. A dozen people dead, just so they could capture her.

It had finally happened. The people that had sought after Ben had found her. She walked behind her captors, and now muffled her sound, listening to them, "So glad that these Google Glasses were actually useful. Made her completely visible, just as the Quartermaster said." In her silence, Nat quickly texted Ben's phone with a single word. Run. The dread in her grew as they left the bank, and toward a van, that beeped as the woman unlocked it. Nat stopped, and her captors immediately turned, under the assumption she was going to flee or refuse. She wanted to flee, to fight, to get to Ben. But her powers were useless before these two. What could she do?

Meanwhile, Ben was listening to an audio tour on Victorian Era art, munching happily on caramelized peanuts, paying no notice to the vibration of his phone.