ACCESSING NETWORK...
LOGGING ON AS: [Roland Teirs]...
PASSWORD ATTEMPT ONE... FAILED
PASSWORD ATTEMPT TWO... SUCCEEDED
CHECKING HARD DRIVE...
ACCESSING FILE: [Novel Rough Draft]...
ERROR: FILE CORRUPTION DETECTED. PARTLY OVERWRITTEN AFTER POSSIBLE DELETION.
ACCESSING...
...ight had still been young for the squire, and last he remembered, the ale more plentiful by the liter than any normal peasant could count. The tavern had been bustling with life, and filled with more faces of variable hues than he could ever had imagined from his shelter life back on the Old Continent. To think, there had been this many people closed off to them, simply because the magic of sailing had been unknown to them for so long. And now, he had wearily found himself in a band comprised of some of these strange individuals, with nary of an idea of ho...
...eir caravan had stopped in one of the shadiest parts of the new world; Alpha. A contract that one of the elven girls had brought to the rest of the group's attention. The description was plain enough: raid a bandit stronghold for the various weapons they had been hoarding and using on the surrounding civilians. In practice, it had fallen apar... - ...quire had almost been killed, had it not been for the wayward arrow of some shadowy figure who he could have only guessed to be one of the groups numerous arc... - ...as now lost in the maze that the stronghold had provided. He had cast his magics on a dwarf and an orc before eventually killing them both... - ...ite the initial hostility the dwarves had shown the humans, their differences had almost now wholly been treated; the squire had only wished the same could have been said about the or... - ...ventually landed him in the position of flying a balistae mounted griff... - ...verdosed the cute soldier on herbal reme... - ...survived another day. Until the return trip to the Hub, that is. Our construct-human had almost gotten into a fight with our supplier, and I could have sworn that one of the ogres following him had the scent of magic about... - ...as going to train under the tutelage of the halfling wizard among the group. The lure of al...
...ent to the radiant city that was Mu-illi; a city mostly of nymphs...o meet with the nymph who had so graciously left the rest of the band to dally with some other contract without so much as a word. Their discussion had started civil enough, but the squire had overworked his nerve and began to insult the girl that sat before him on marble seati... - ...oo much to drink, and nasty rumors abound about the night the two shared. At least he had a nice set of clothes for the outing to come.
CLOSING FILE...
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DISCONNECTING FROM NETWORK...
Voltin Member
Commander Zappy
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Most Recent Posts
Dervish said
You could try to bump start messages between crew members? Maybe a journal entry/ extranet activity from Roland? Concerns he has, opinions on the team and events that happened, reference the sporting event everyone attended at the bar?
All good ideas, but I'm still lacking the necessary muse for it.
Mosis Tosis said
Speaking of, weren't Tanya and Kosso supposed to have a drinking competition there? We never resolved that
And didn't Roland somehow become a, if not the, prize for that?
Hm. May do a Broker post seeing as how I haven't done any Nova'ing for a little over a month. However, I'm stuck on what I want for content.
Horace could feel his ears pop. Looking above had shown him as to why that was.
High above were the storm clouds that one only saw on the worst of nights simply hovering above the pit that the witch had created with their escape, and in the middle stood -- or rather flew his niece. He had seen her, still in the room far below, but had been so preoccupied with the other monster which had stood before them to notice her escape, so why was she coming down with such a vicious- Wait, Horace thought, eyeing suspiciously the vortex above him. That-that was magic; elemental magic which Riley had been incapable of understanding at this point. The meaning to all this was simply lost on him, so all he could do was climb. Unfortunately, the rate at which he could do so no where matched Fion's velocity who had already created a great distance between them. Whatever it was that was happening... it seemed the boy would have to handle it alone.
~
The djinn continued his own ascent, not acknowledging of the pressure system, or the intense magical energies that held above. His passenger, on the other hand, was all too aware. He ushered it to move faster, and faster, but was only met with the summon's scolding resistance. "Your rather stubborn for something I've summoned," he pouted with arms crossed. The fire spirit simply chuckled in response, knowing full well that this man wasn't his master.
~
Cygna watched the ensuing scene from far above. The man who's very soul now inhabited her daughter's body was reeking torment on the hindrance of a boy from before. This was exactly what she had wanted, yet, she was still not satisfied. Why was it that she had gotten the progenitor of destruction that she had desired and still be disappointed with the result? She shrugged it off, not wanting to double-think herself and decide she had indeed made the wrong decision.
~
Damn it all to the nine hells! He wasn't climbing fast enough. He had the strength, and the talentium, yet he couldn't move fast enough. The boy was being made short work of by his kin and -- with magics outside her reach, no less -- and he was powerless as to do nothing but climb and hope Fion would still be alive by the time he reached him.
Horace only had one last push though, and then he would be almost there.
~
He had arrive at the edge of the crater; companion and savior still well in tow. He had awoken with some great confusion, yet he still lived with nary a scratch to show for it. The dumb luck that seemed to follow him in life was absolutely amazing.
He could still see the storm, now localized on the other side of the pit. He could see little, yet the spirit still shouted, "There! There be my leetle weetch lady!" And he would have left to join had the man not forced him to stay with a minor binding spell (when had he learned that?).
The clouds began to clear, and all he could see was Fion, and... her.
~
Horace had finally made it over the pit's edge and yelped triumphantly as he collapsed on the ground. Given his bleeding and intense muscle fatigue, he felt he could collapse. Not a good thing.
Riley and Fion were no where in site; the only image was of that witch perched high above on her bird and the earthen mound that lay in front of him. "Witch," he called out as he regained his composure. "Where are they? Where did Riley and Fion go?" He could feel his breath go slightly ragged with the exertion this speech was taking from him. "You may wish to check there-" she pointed at the mound "-for your answer and a rather nasty surprise at that." Horace walked over to where she had indicated and readied his axe in a position that made it look like he was chopping lumber. With one swing he chopped the top off to find a black molten goo and a small pile of dead nasties... Riley's, if he wasn't mistaken. Sticking out among the dead cabal, was Fion, who was in a bad from whatever torture he had just been put through.
~
He couldn't believe it. That had been his body, his, doing all those nasty things; displaying feats of magic that he had never dreamed of being able to perform. Yet, the evidence lay bare before his eyes, and was left with a sickening nausea. Why? Why had she done those things to Fion of all people? He was an ass, sure, but to trap him with such a combination of familiar and unfamiliar magics was retching. He found himself paralyzed, and unable to help. Were it not for his uncle's intervention, Fion surely would have died, and it would be all because of her.
High above were the storm clouds that one only saw on the worst of nights simply hovering above the pit that the witch had created with their escape, and in the middle stood -- or rather flew his niece. He had seen her, still in the room far below, but had been so preoccupied with the other monster which had stood before them to notice her escape, so why was she coming down with such a vicious- Wait, Horace thought, eyeing suspiciously the vortex above him. That-that was magic; elemental magic which Riley had been incapable of understanding at this point. The meaning to all this was simply lost on him, so all he could do was climb. Unfortunately, the rate at which he could do so no where matched Fion's velocity who had already created a great distance between them. Whatever it was that was happening... it seemed the boy would have to handle it alone.
~
The djinn continued his own ascent, not acknowledging of the pressure system, or the intense magical energies that held above. His passenger, on the other hand, was all too aware. He ushered it to move faster, and faster, but was only met with the summon's scolding resistance. "Your rather stubborn for something I've summoned," he pouted with arms crossed. The fire spirit simply chuckled in response, knowing full well that this man wasn't his master.
~
Cygna watched the ensuing scene from far above. The man who's very soul now inhabited her daughter's body was reeking torment on the hindrance of a boy from before. This was exactly what she had wanted, yet, she was still not satisfied. Why was it that she had gotten the progenitor of destruction that she had desired and still be disappointed with the result? She shrugged it off, not wanting to double-think herself and decide she had indeed made the wrong decision.
~
Damn it all to the nine hells! He wasn't climbing fast enough. He had the strength, and the talentium, yet he couldn't move fast enough. The boy was being made short work of by his kin and -- with magics outside her reach, no less -- and he was powerless as to do nothing but climb and hope Fion would still be alive by the time he reached him.
Horace only had one last push though, and then he would be almost there.
~
He had arrive at the edge of the crater; companion and savior still well in tow. He had awoken with some great confusion, yet he still lived with nary a scratch to show for it. The dumb luck that seemed to follow him in life was absolutely amazing.
He could still see the storm, now localized on the other side of the pit. He could see little, yet the spirit still shouted, "There! There be my leetle weetch lady!" And he would have left to join had the man not forced him to stay with a minor binding spell (when had he learned that?).
The clouds began to clear, and all he could see was Fion, and... her.
~
Horace had finally made it over the pit's edge and yelped triumphantly as he collapsed on the ground. Given his bleeding and intense muscle fatigue, he felt he could collapse. Not a good thing.
Riley and Fion were no where in site; the only image was of that witch perched high above on her bird and the earthen mound that lay in front of him. "Witch," he called out as he regained his composure. "Where are they? Where did Riley and Fion go?" He could feel his breath go slightly ragged with the exertion this speech was taking from him. "You may wish to check there-" she pointed at the mound "-for your answer and a rather nasty surprise at that." Horace walked over to where she had indicated and readied his axe in a position that made it look like he was chopping lumber. With one swing he chopped the top off to find a black molten goo and a small pile of dead nasties... Riley's, if he wasn't mistaken. Sticking out among the dead cabal, was Fion, who was in a bad from whatever torture he had just been put through.
~
He couldn't believe it. That had been his body, his, doing all those nasty things; displaying feats of magic that he had never dreamed of being able to perform. Yet, the evidence lay bare before his eyes, and was left with a sickening nausea. Why? Why had she done those things to Fion of all people? He was an ass, sure, but to trap him with such a combination of familiar and unfamiliar magics was retching. He found himself paralyzed, and unable to help. Were it not for his uncle's intervention, Fion surely would have died, and it would be all because of her.
Dervish said
But... Is he wrong?
My gods...
Gentleman, we have found the solution to our problem.
Yes, but Kygg probably also thinks torching the guests is the another solution to their problem.
Dervish said
You should start spiking their juice with Nyquill. That'll learn them!
Remember to look both ways before crossing intersecting fields of fire.
My parents did that; I didn't necessarily turn out bad, either.
And if there are fields of fire, Nova is seriously doing something wrong on this mission.
Er, sorry; I'm still waiting on Tick... Roland and Tzvi were sort of having a conversation.
"Stealth isn't your strong suit, is it dear?" The words cut through the air just as quickly as the ethereal saber of Cygna's eidolon leapt through the air, piercing Horace's shoulder to the far wall before he could even react. "Damn you," he cursed as he unsuccessfully tried to wretch the blade from his flesh. It seemed that the axe he had so easily held had fallen in the center of the room, and that the apparition was content to leave him pinned, at its witch's demand. "Fion," she remarked, almost as if he was an after thought. "It is," she smirked as flashes of light blinked in a trio of similar creatures to the one still unmoving with Horace. "-wonderful to see you again." The words lilted off her lips, almost hoping for him to attack.
Fion drew his sword, but remained still, giving Cygna a wry smirk. "I'd say the same, but considering that you're threatening my life, it's not that wonderful to see you." The mercenary replied calmly, staying in a defensive stance. "Now, why are you even here in Dansila? Don't you have a demon child to protect?" He asked, trying to find a way out of this situation, which already didn't look good. Horace was injured and weaponless, and Fion himself couldn't cut loose with Sword Arts while Riley was still in the way.
"Ah yes, the demon," came her reply, lazily. "A passing fancy, really. Brought on by my dearest's own father, no less. Had I known what power my daughter has had in her possession, I would have come here much sooner. But now, it seems I must protect what is mi-"
She was cut off before she could issue an attack by her daughter's own voice. It was a simple statement, but one that was surprising even to her; enough for the very shock to show on her face. He had such ability? Even so soon after the transfer? The shaking of the room was her answer.
As Riley awoke and cast her spell, Fion showed the same shock that Cygna did, although not without noticing the witch's expression. So Riley's new-found power was surprising to Cygna too. Plus, Riley seemed strangely out of character for her, given her speech to her mother. With what he knew so far, all he could guess was that Cygna had done something to Riley. "So...I'll bite. What exactly did you do to Riley and how much is it about to backfire on you?" Fion asked conversationally, trying to fish for information that he didn't have. After all, the most likely reason for Riley's sudden change had to be her mother, given her witch magics and the fact that there weren't any other likely culprits around.
"You have no idea of what you speak of!" she barked, at wit's end with what she knew was to happen. They were hundreds of feet underground, and below them was a gaping maw ready to swallow them all whole. The only way to escape was to dig up... or perhaps down. "For now, boy," she addressed Fion as the four specters flickered out of existence, "Let's call a truce and escape before we both die in a realm beyond our own." The rumbling intensified as Cygna visibly began to concentrate and let loose a torrent of magical energies as screams could be heard from both above and below. At the peak of it all, the witch simply muttered the same spell that was now being used against them. It was simply... at the surface, compared to far below. Eating all that stood between them would be a simple matter for the beast.
"Fine by me." Fion shrugged, sheathing his sword while helping Horace to his feet and handing him his weapon. "You should start talking then, Missus Thomson. Don't exactly know how this summon of your daughter's works." Turning back to Horace, Fion assessed the man's condition while handing his axe back to him. "Can you walk on your own, old man?"
"Unless he can fly, he's unlikely to make it out," Cygna responded before Horace could get a word in edgewise, a smug look of satisfaction spread across her face. "And it isn't exactly in my best interests to do any more for either of you than I already have." Horace scoffed at her remark. "I'll be fine, boy," he responded, ignoring the witch. "We-we just have to make sure that ev-" he was having trouble breathing, likely a side effect of being stabbed and still bleeding, but cut off his statement upon realizing that everyone down here was a crook or thief; expendable lives in comparison to their own. "Just take care of yourself," he finally continued as the rumbling intensified even further.
"If your matters are settled then," Cygna said after a moment, "I would suggest covering your heads." The monster, almost as if with her words, burst through over them, the sunlight above casting a shadow over the monstrous form. A mixture of blood and and mud from everything that had settled above covered its monstrous maw, but before it could continue any further, Cygna cast it away before unleashing another flood of energy and bringing a giant bird to her assistance. Stepping on the mount, she said, "Meet you at the top, boys. Do try to be hasty, the floor is likely to give out... Oh, now."
"Oh, you bi-" Fion's expletive was cut off as the floor collapsed from under him and he fell down further with Horace. Wind blazed around him on instinct and Fion found his reflexes sharpened, which combined with the adrenaline coursing through his system, slowed the world around him as he spotted a handhold, which he promptly reached for, stopping himself from falling any further. Looking around, he saw Horace, who had found a handhold of his own. Nodding in satisfaction, he hoisted himself up and gazed towards the surface, mentally calculating his path back up. When he was satisfied, Fion leapt up, jumping from platform to platform as he followed after the witch on her gigantic bird.
Horace looked down only once, seeing the face of the monster that had been above, but without the obscurity that the shadows from above provided. It was in this terror, that the grip he had on his weapon tightened, and the thought of escape left him. All that was left was the burned image of the creature below, and the terror that it filled him with. With of crack of the wood that was his handhold, the man snapped back to the moment. He could see the creature preparing to lunge, and with all the effort that he could muster, Horace tossed himself up to the next plank to avoid the snap of the creature's jaw. His effort was only slightly enough to save his life, as he could feel the air shift beneath him with the monster's leap, and the warping of space as it retreated back to its domain. A sigh of relief was all he could make of the situation as he continued to climb his way up the hole.
~
The man in the next room awoke with the rumbling of the room in which he was in. It looked to be in the same building in which he had fallen asleep in, but with a bed, an end-table and a broken door. Where was his mother? Had she left, despite her sweet words which had promised otherwise? The very thought was wounding to the man, but at the same time staggering. He had been drinking, so where was the intoxication, or even the impending hangover that was bound to come with it? He grasped his head, and found that his hand were rough; calloused. He found that his hands weren't his hands, but that of a man's. Panic took over in the resulting confusion, and thought overridden even the basic sense of sight, which would have recognized the three familiar figures which hung outside his doorway.
When the roof caved in from above him, he snapped back to reality and almost as reflex, conjured a shield of energy above him to block the rubble. Since when could I do that? But before the thought could be answered, or her brain even searched of what she knew, she felt instinct give way again and the conjuring of another being taking place. "Hello, strange man," came the voice. "Have you perhaps seen my weetch lady, hm?" The voice was that of the djinn; the one that she had summoned only twice before. "I-" he wanted to respond, but his voice caught upon hearing just that; his voice. It wasn't hers, so why id it belong to him? No questions were answered for either of them as the floor gave way soon after the roof, and the only thing to save the man was the djinn, who swooped him in his arms and began to float upwards; away from the advancing creature. "You much heavier than last charge; maybe you lose weight?" His first instinct was to smack his savior, but a voice in the back of his head was saying: That isn't very masculine, is it?
Fion drew his sword, but remained still, giving Cygna a wry smirk. "I'd say the same, but considering that you're threatening my life, it's not that wonderful to see you." The mercenary replied calmly, staying in a defensive stance. "Now, why are you even here in Dansila? Don't you have a demon child to protect?" He asked, trying to find a way out of this situation, which already didn't look good. Horace was injured and weaponless, and Fion himself couldn't cut loose with Sword Arts while Riley was still in the way.
"Ah yes, the demon," came her reply, lazily. "A passing fancy, really. Brought on by my dearest's own father, no less. Had I known what power my daughter has had in her possession, I would have come here much sooner. But now, it seems I must protect what is mi-"
She was cut off before she could issue an attack by her daughter's own voice. It was a simple statement, but one that was surprising even to her; enough for the very shock to show on her face. He had such ability? Even so soon after the transfer? The shaking of the room was her answer.
As Riley awoke and cast her spell, Fion showed the same shock that Cygna did, although not without noticing the witch's expression. So Riley's new-found power was surprising to Cygna too. Plus, Riley seemed strangely out of character for her, given her speech to her mother. With what he knew so far, all he could guess was that Cygna had done something to Riley. "So...I'll bite. What exactly did you do to Riley and how much is it about to backfire on you?" Fion asked conversationally, trying to fish for information that he didn't have. After all, the most likely reason for Riley's sudden change had to be her mother, given her witch magics and the fact that there weren't any other likely culprits around.
"You have no idea of what you speak of!" she barked, at wit's end with what she knew was to happen. They were hundreds of feet underground, and below them was a gaping maw ready to swallow them all whole. The only way to escape was to dig up... or perhaps down. "For now, boy," she addressed Fion as the four specters flickered out of existence, "Let's call a truce and escape before we both die in a realm beyond our own." The rumbling intensified as Cygna visibly began to concentrate and let loose a torrent of magical energies as screams could be heard from both above and below. At the peak of it all, the witch simply muttered the same spell that was now being used against them. It was simply... at the surface, compared to far below. Eating all that stood between them would be a simple matter for the beast.
"Fine by me." Fion shrugged, sheathing his sword while helping Horace to his feet and handing him his weapon. "You should start talking then, Missus Thomson. Don't exactly know how this summon of your daughter's works." Turning back to Horace, Fion assessed the man's condition while handing his axe back to him. "Can you walk on your own, old man?"
"Unless he can fly, he's unlikely to make it out," Cygna responded before Horace could get a word in edgewise, a smug look of satisfaction spread across her face. "And it isn't exactly in my best interests to do any more for either of you than I already have." Horace scoffed at her remark. "I'll be fine, boy," he responded, ignoring the witch. "We-we just have to make sure that ev-" he was having trouble breathing, likely a side effect of being stabbed and still bleeding, but cut off his statement upon realizing that everyone down here was a crook or thief; expendable lives in comparison to their own. "Just take care of yourself," he finally continued as the rumbling intensified even further.
"If your matters are settled then," Cygna said after a moment, "I would suggest covering your heads." The monster, almost as if with her words, burst through over them, the sunlight above casting a shadow over the monstrous form. A mixture of blood and and mud from everything that had settled above covered its monstrous maw, but before it could continue any further, Cygna cast it away before unleashing another flood of energy and bringing a giant bird to her assistance. Stepping on the mount, she said, "Meet you at the top, boys. Do try to be hasty, the floor is likely to give out... Oh, now."
"Oh, you bi-" Fion's expletive was cut off as the floor collapsed from under him and he fell down further with Horace. Wind blazed around him on instinct and Fion found his reflexes sharpened, which combined with the adrenaline coursing through his system, slowed the world around him as he spotted a handhold, which he promptly reached for, stopping himself from falling any further. Looking around, he saw Horace, who had found a handhold of his own. Nodding in satisfaction, he hoisted himself up and gazed towards the surface, mentally calculating his path back up. When he was satisfied, Fion leapt up, jumping from platform to platform as he followed after the witch on her gigantic bird.
Horace looked down only once, seeing the face of the monster that had been above, but without the obscurity that the shadows from above provided. It was in this terror, that the grip he had on his weapon tightened, and the thought of escape left him. All that was left was the burned image of the creature below, and the terror that it filled him with. With of crack of the wood that was his handhold, the man snapped back to the moment. He could see the creature preparing to lunge, and with all the effort that he could muster, Horace tossed himself up to the next plank to avoid the snap of the creature's jaw. His effort was only slightly enough to save his life, as he could feel the air shift beneath him with the monster's leap, and the warping of space as it retreated back to its domain. A sigh of relief was all he could make of the situation as he continued to climb his way up the hole.
~
The man in the next room awoke with the rumbling of the room in which he was in. It looked to be in the same building in which he had fallen asleep in, but with a bed, an end-table and a broken door. Where was his mother? Had she left, despite her sweet words which had promised otherwise? The very thought was wounding to the man, but at the same time staggering. He had been drinking, so where was the intoxication, or even the impending hangover that was bound to come with it? He grasped his head, and found that his hand were rough; calloused. He found that his hands weren't his hands, but that of a man's. Panic took over in the resulting confusion, and thought overridden even the basic sense of sight, which would have recognized the three familiar figures which hung outside his doorway.
When the roof caved in from above him, he snapped back to reality and almost as reflex, conjured a shield of energy above him to block the rubble. Since when could I do that? But before the thought could be answered, or her brain even searched of what she knew, she felt instinct give way again and the conjuring of another being taking place. "Hello, strange man," came the voice. "Have you perhaps seen my weetch lady, hm?" The voice was that of the djinn; the one that she had summoned only twice before. "I-" he wanted to respond, but his voice caught upon hearing just that; his voice. It wasn't hers, so why id it belong to him? No questions were answered for either of them as the floor gave way soon after the roof, and the only thing to save the man was the djinn, who swooped him in his arms and began to float upwards; away from the advancing creature. "You much heavier than last charge; maybe you lose weight?" His first instinct was to smack his savior, but a voice in the back of his head was saying: That isn't very masculine, is it?
Sorry for the extended delay; our collab is getting bogged down with work from real life on all sides. :(
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