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| 11 Mar 2016 10:06 PM |
Our world, as we know it, is quite vast. There are those that claim, that other lands must lie beyond the seas, though none have claimed to have seen any. Many refuse the possibility altogether, insisting that our land stands alone, created by the Gods, to bring us about that we may raise our eyes in worship.
They are quite dull people, I find. But it is of no consequence, as there is so much of our own land we have yet to discover. The Northern Wastes stretch on for as long as you care to travel them. The Southern Mountains end quite abruptly at a coast, and the sea stretches into the horizon, forevermore.
But for every impenetrable forest, unforigving desert, inhospitable tundra, and pleasant meadow that defines the surface, darker secrets lie below. Miles and Miles of stonework, deep into the earth. Endless catacombs, untouched by the light. As one delves deeper, the designs change. Like the rings of a tree, we know of five aincient civilizations that made their homes beneath the ground, each retrofitting the shallower tunnels to suit their culture, like the layers of some great historical tapestry, woven throughout time, each weaver adding his story to the cloth. Five civilizations, and the tunnels wind yet deeper. Vast treasure troves and humble living spaces. Complex heating and plumbing systems winding the-
Ah, the Treasure piqued your interests the most hmm? I won't drone on about the ventilation then, later perhaps. Yes, vast halls overflowing with wealth. They've grown fewer and farer between, though there's bound to be more. Many unsavory creature have taken a liking to the gloom, and some to the glimmer of treasure, so it's a dangerous gambit to go seeking alone.
Now seems an appropriate time to mention the most forboding fact of the Underworld. For all the culture and civilzation we've discovered beneath, not a trace of it touches the surface. If you ask me, it seems they dug to flee from something, something that scoured the surface of them. Something that drove horrible creatures of hold into their Deep Homes, that leaves them now locked away, guarding mysteries the likes of which we cannot imagine. Just think, of all that...
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You close the book as the introduction begins to wear on. You'd gotten the gist of it.
You stare at you campfire for a moment, and drift off to sleep.
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A figure in a dark cloak and bearing a torch, considers you for what seems like a few minutes.
"What is your name..." |
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| 11 Mar 2016 10:14 PM |
| (Do you have a naming scheme in mind (i.e. old-English names for this race, use lots of "w"s for another, etc.), or should I just choose whatever I feel like?) |
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| 11 Mar 2016 10:17 PM |
| (Humans tend to be more Old English, with touches of latin here and there, Dwarves take on more nordic conventions, elves are, well, they're elves. If you have another race in mind tell me and I'll make something up.) |
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| 11 Mar 2016 10:20 PM |
| "Cedric Wulfson," I say, still half asleep and not paying particularly much attention to the fact that an unknown man was asking me this, nor to what his intent may be with me. |
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| 11 Mar 2016 10:22 PM |
His shadowed cowl does not move, in spite of the cold, humid draft.
You feel your bones tingle and his gaze sweeps you up and down.
What does he see? |
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| 11 Mar 2016 10:45 PM |
(Sorry it's taking a while to write this, I'm watching a TV show at the same time.)
A roughly average-height, late teens or early 20s male lying face up on the ground. My hair is dark blonde and cut short, although it's become slightly unkempt over the course of the past few days of this camping trip. Likewise, his normally neatly-trimmed beard has also grown slightly. The face is completely unscarred. The nose, ears and mouth are all average sized, and the dark brown eyes are only slightly further apart than average. The body is, of course, rather lean and athletic.
The clothes are those of a regular peasant, just some brown patchwork rags. In a pile about a foot away is some chainmail armour to be worn on top of these clothes, a 70cm long sword and a round shield. Neither the sword nor the armour are Dwarven-forged, but they are of considerable quality given that they were made by a human. There's also a small leather bag that contains a few coins, but not much more. |
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| 11 Mar 2016 11:00 PM |
The figure stirs, looking off into the distance behind you, and you feel compelled to turn around. Behind you stands a wall of old cobblestones. You turn back, looking around at what was once the open night sky, not a low, curved cieling of stone.
You shiver as the figure brushes past you, his cloak as cold as death. Torch in hand he descends throguh a doorway down a flight of stairs. The light of the torch bleeds from the room, receding with the figure. As the dark corners close in, you begin to hear whispers. Foreign tongues, not spoken since ages past, though you're not certain how you know this. |
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| 11 Mar 2016 11:02 PM |
| "Who are you?" I shout in confusion and anger at what's happening. |
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| 11 Mar 2016 11:08 PM |
The light in the doorways begins to fade.
The ancient tongues increase in volume, some calling your name, the claw at your throat, digging and creeping into your ears. They are silenced by a voice, so quiet, but inexplicably powerful.
"Follow, child..." |
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| 11 Mar 2016 11:34 PM |
| I get up and follow him, I guess. If it hasn't disappeared alongside the outdoors, I'll also grab my sword, for just in case. |
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| 11 Mar 2016 11:38 PM |
The whispers begin again, as you move towards the sliver of light peering through the opening. As you pass through the doorway, you wake with a start, clutching your sword to your chest.
The sun peers between the trees. A bit after dawn you figure. |
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| 11 Mar 2016 11:44 PM |
(I knew it was going to be a dream!)
If it's just a bit after dawn, then I'd better get up and get going. I quickly slip on my chainmail, re-sheath the sword and strap my shield to my back. If I'm lucky I'll be able to get to a town by the end of the day today. After getting up, I figure that I might as well start walking. |
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| 12 Mar 2016 01:21 AM |
| You roll up your bedroll and scatter the ashes of your campfire, setting off from the willow grove. A few miles of muddy trail pass, and you find yourself in the midst of a wheatfield. You see a wisp of smoke curling upwards from beyond the next hill. |
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| 12 Mar 2016 02:16 AM |
| That could mean civilization! I head in the direction of the wisp of smoke, not increasing my pace significantly (for in case it's further than I had initially thought), but increasing it ever so slightly as I am getting rather hungry. |
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| 12 Mar 2016 03:12 AM |
After a few short minutes of waling, you crest the hill to gaze over...
A muddy hamlet. Charming one though. You can count the number of buildings on your fingers, all Eight of them. It's intersected by a well-travelled looking road, at least more often travelled than the one you're on. The wisps of smoke come from a chimneyed building that seems to be a Smithy, and there's a two story building next to it with a sign near the door, hard to make out the picture, but you reckon it looks a bit like a pewter mug. The other buildings have their own accoutrements about them, racks of tanning leather, a woman sits at a spindle outside of one of the homes, things of that nature. It would seem this place homes the craftsman for the surrounding farmers. A very quaint feif, all in all. |
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| 12 Mar 2016 03:58 AM |
| I break out into a run towards the hamlet now that I see how close it is. I lost count of the number of days that I spent wandering the forest and it will be good to eat proper food again and sleep on an actual bed. |
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doggy2721
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| Joined: 09 Jan 2015 |
| Total Posts: 1964 |
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| 12 Mar 2016 04:02 AM |
| omg ##### you noob omg you cant roleplay |
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doggy2721
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| Joined: 09 Jan 2015 |
| Total Posts: 1964 |
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| 12 Mar 2016 04:03 AM |
| you #### omg noob go kill yourself you idiot noob omg # #### old alert |
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| 12 Mar 2016 02:04 PM |
Your chainmail rustles against the rest of your equipment as you run down the hill stumbling a bit. You get a weird look from a woman pinning laundry to a clothesline near one of the cottages.
You reach the viliage, and have a closer look. The smith is hammering a horseshoe into shape, and a cart is trundling it's way towards the back of the tavern building, carrying a trio of barrels. |
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| 12 Mar 2016 04:02 PM |
| I guess the thing to do is to enter the tavern. |
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| 12 Mar 2016 04:21 PM |
The Tavern is mostly empty, save for a man asleep in his own drool, and a pair of men off to a side chatting in hushed tones, occaisionally chuckling. They glance at you when you enter, but don't display any particular interest in you. The bartender looks up from a water basin of dishes, pulling a mug out and drying it off with a rag. He looks you over, apparently pegging you for a traveller.
"Food, or just drink?" |
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| 12 Mar 2016 04:23 PM |
| "Both, please," I say, almost rasp, due to how thirsty I am. I realize now that I haven't had either all day today, and probably not for at least a small while before that. At that, I stumble over to one of the tables and take a seat at the chair. |
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| 12 Mar 2016 04:35 PM |
He fills the mug from one of the kegs and sets it on the table in front of you before returning to the basin and pulling out a plate. He wipes the plate down and sets it on the bar. He pulls up a platter loaded with meat from under the bar and starts tearing chunks off of it, onto your plate. He sets the platter back under the bar and retruns with a a round loaf of bread, which he cuts in half, places one of the halves on the plate, and the other back under the bar.
He steps over and sets the plate in front of you. On closer inspection the meat seems to be chicken. |
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| 12 Mar 2016 04:39 PM |
| "Thank you," I say, looking through my wallet for the coins needed to pay for this. After I pay, I begin eating and drinking everything in front of me, both extraordinarily hungry and thirsty. |
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| 12 Mar 2016 06:52 PM |
| Noticing your apetite, the barkeep fills another mug and sets in front of you, taking the empty one and setting it in the basin. As you bite into the bread you realize it's Trailbread, to some dismay, as Trailbread had been Breakfast, Dinner, and Supper for the last few weeks. Still, it's warm, and much lighter than the dense sort you'd been carrying. |
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