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So Kain will you choose for us the items we get depending on the character we create?  I've got an idea in mind but if he gets the wrong type of weapon then he will be dead in the water as soon as the game starts is that kind of risk possible you think?

I think it'll be up to the player. Some people might want it randomly but I feel like most of you have an idea for what item would fit your character so I will aim for that instead.

will this be on the forum? or is there some other thing  you guys were going to do with it?

It'll be a forum game.

Vanil has Profession (Blacksmith) 6, and Craft (Traps) 5.

[2.]

2.

   
   The town of Three Bridges lay low to the ground, none of the small dark-tiled buildings aspiring to anything more than two floors. More like a hamlet than anything else, Three Bridges squatted over the three banks of Daran's Fork. Three stone bridges straddled each river, the only crossing into Northfall for some distance. A butty sky cast a gray pallor over the town, the sun peeking through on occasion though not enough to lighten the sombreness of a Keldari settlement.

       Riding into the town on his old gray stallion, Alyn could already feel the fell mood lying over the town. Empty streets made his sword hand itch as he scanned the windows and alleys. The houses here crowded close, competing for space on the rocky waterfront. Rapier snorted and the young knight patted his neck reassuringly. The old horse--ironically the opposite of anything resembling a rapier--picked up on moods better than many people Alyn had known.

        Alone on the streets, Alyns thoughts drifted to his new companions. Perhaps he should have brought the pair along after all. The quiet set his teeth on edge. The trouble was, Ganton and Rian both were army deserters, though he understood neither came from the same army. Keldari people put great stock in honor; a deserter from any army would face enmity, especially since both still wore their military gear. Going alone was the only choice; in and out to purchase some supplies and a change of clothes and they would be on their way. Gradually Alyn realized a commotion was rising from the other side of the northern bridge. He spurred Rapier on to a slow trot.

       "Bit early for harvest celebration, don't you think?" Alyn said aloud, feeling all the better for simply hearing a voice. Rapier snorted as if in agreement. Last Harvest was not for a month yet; any farmer worth his salt would be tending the fields even now.

   Across the bridge and around the bend brought them to the square from which the din rose. Shops rose up to form walls around the square, which saved to frame the inn, the tallest building in the town at a mighty three stories tall. Jammed shoulder to shoulder in the small forum was a sea of people all clad in the black coats and gray dresses of Keldari style. Farmers spoke in worried tones with midwives and shopkeepers. Wagon merchants and stablemen muttered darkly, though Alyn could not make out anything over the din. Pulling up short of the crowd, Alyn could feel the palpable sense of unease amongst the villagers. Unease and anger. By his count, Alyn surmised a hair shy of the entire town was gathered here, save for farmers from outlying farms. It would have to be something of grave importance to pull people away from their work at this time, he thought worriedly. Was it war again so soon?

      Gradually those closest to him took notice of Alyns presence and their angry mutterings turned to conspiratory whispers to their neighbours. Their attention firmly in hand, the young knight guided Rapier into the crowd. The sight of a fully armored warrior made most people nervous, but the people of Keldar were a hardy sort; their whispers were born of curiosity. Donning a stern look as the crowd parted, Alyn hoped he wouldn't get caught in the middle of a riot.

        From the saddle Alyn spotted the apparent source of their anger. Near the wall of the inn a circle of burly men held the crowd at bay around something--someone. Alyn ignored the villagers touching his cloak and legs. The sight of a servant of the Lady was strange this far north. The someone disappeared from view as several men tried to break through the circle and were rebuffed.

      As Alyn reached the circle, a hush fell over the crowd. Here nervous eyes flickered to him before going back to the girl who stood in the center. A strange sight, she was clad in high boots and a long black cloak over dark lacquered leather, though not in any style native to Keldar. The girls face was downcast, the shadows of her voluminous hood hiding her features. Were it not for the armor she wore he would have thought her one of the villagers. As she felt his eyes on him she raised her head to meet his gaze. Shock rippled through the young knight; fury burned behind eyes like ice, set into a face as white as snow. Alyn opened his mouth to speak.

         A flash of violence. Blood sprays across dark rock that has never seen the light of day. A face pale in life becomes pale in death. It is a dance. Step by step the girl with white hair dances the macabre jig of battle. Screams echo and are cut short. Another foe rises before her.

        Alyn gasped, his hand grasping at his head. How could this be? He felt her as if he was her.

       Tears run down her face, though whether through anger or anguish could not be known. She must kill or be killed. Arms numb struggle to hold blades black as night, struggled to keep death away. A fire burned blue somewhere, unnatural. She could smell it. Cinders of stone burned through supernatural means, smells of charred bodies. The foe approached. Her blade went up and--

      Alyn struggled to shut out the flood of visions. What is happening? What has she done to me? His head felt like splitting. His lips moved numbly in a prayer.

       A hand grasps her blade. Power beyond belief floods forth, corrupted like filth. The point crumbles, the metal rusting before her eyes. Darksteel could not rust. She struggles to pull away, the scent of foul energy filling her nose. Her foe grins, a tall man with a face like hers. Hatred fills his eyes. Death comes closer.

       Alyn slumped forward, his breath laboured. Who was this man? Who am I? Memories jumbled together until he could barely remember where he was. He struggled to speak.

       A bolt of light streaks through a lightless land, briefly illuminating spires of black rock and the flaming remains of a city of alien architecture. The man moves quickly to dodge such an attack; the ground shatters where he was standing, falling to the assault of the light. An ethereal song fills the air, a hum that thrums through bone. Forbidden, impossible  power. The universe dances to the will of the Song.

      Teeth clenched, Alyn struggled to remain in his saddle. The pure notes were clear in his head as if he were there himself. The strange song filled him to the core.

      The light blinding, she struggles to rise, searching for her foe. Out there in the black wasteland a voice cries out for her to run and never stop. She screams in fury, shattering the joy of the song. The light fades, leaving only the ethereal twilight of the Lightless Land.

     What was this place? The Lightless Land. A place where the sun never reached and where death stalked between obsidian spires. Alyns head throbbed with a knowledge he never had. Gradually he realized the visions had ceased and he raised his head to see the crowd staring at him, fear scrubbing over their anger. The mere act of raising his head felt like moving a mountain. Gamely he attempted his most reassuring smile for the crowd, straightening his back as much as he could in his state.

      "M'lord is feeling ill? Perhaps some thornroot for the fever?"

      Images of black plains and stony cliffs that rose impossibly high swum in his brain. Dimly he managed to shake himself free. What did the girl do to me! His own voice echoed oddly in his head.

      "No need." Alyn finally replied, raising a hand weakly. The one who has spoken proved to be a knobbly old man, all knees and elbows, dressed in the solemn grey robes of an apothecary. A worried look creased his wrinkled face and small tired eyes like beads peered out from under his wild eyebrows. "Most likely some trail food gone bad."

       "M'lord should surely rest. It is not wise to drive too hard when the sickness holds you. The Village Seat can deal with this sad business when they arrive. A sickness is no small thing M?lord. A wasting sickness can create weakness and the body as well as the spirit and--" The old man looked like he would have continued for some time but Alyn quickly spoke over him firmly denying the need for medicine. The elder fell silent but continued fretting through nervous wringing of the hands. Having gained silence, Alyn turned his eye back to the girl, half dreading that the visions would start again.

       She stood tall as a willow, head bowed once again and her pale hands clenched at her side, doubtless matching the fury that smouldered beneath the hood. Like a trapped lion, he thought, a lion held by paper bars. With the visions he had seen, Alyn had no doubts she could escape at any time. Somehow he knew what he had seen were visions of her mind. So why is she still standing here, he thought, raising a hand to rub the ache of his neck. Hand half-raised, Alyn eyes caught a glint off the pommel of a sword concealed at her hip beneath her long cloak. His lips tightened. Blades flashing. How did she wind up here?

       A villager spoke up, a round man with a bulbous gin nose. Alyn forced himself to snap his gaze away from the girl. "She killed Ewil, she did. She done him in with a sword of pure shadow. All fer the crime of 'im walkin' in on 'er pilfirin' the livelyhood out from Gil's shelves. His wife'll be wearing the black rose till this day nex' year." The man jiggled as he spoke, his jowls quivering with outrage.

       "Rose from the grave she did! A demon sent to punish our sins she is!" A thin man with a hooked nose and close set eyes pushed through the crowd to proclaim "A wight from the land of Sin come to steal our children like she stole old Ewil."

   ?A damned spirit. The ghost of a dead woman come back!? A goodwife with worry lines was moved near to tears as she spoke. ?She?s come for all of us!?

   A babble of angry voices bubbled up in the cauldron of the mob. The crowd pushed in close, massing around Alyns horse to reach the girl. The fat man pushed her from behind, which opened the floodgates. Angry villagers clawed at her cloak and arms, but to the knights surprise she made no motion to strike back. He raised a hand for silence again and frowned when it was ignored.

   ?Be silent! Hold fast!? Alyn cried, his voice fading into the din. ?Be silent!? The people ignored him, shoving at the girl and brandishing various farming implements and old weaponry. It would not take long for blood to be shed, either hers or theirs. Hatred was radiating off her in waves.

   The sound of his sword being wrenched from his back sheath and over his head bought their attention, the metal playing a deadly song as it slid forth. A promise of violence could buy most men, especially when it came from one they regarded as their better. He did not like the method, but it would do. All eyes fell on him once again as the hand-and-a-half swung through the air and glinted in the light. A good cut with that well-tempered steel would remove a head from its shoulders. He still sometimes feared he would cut his own head off when he drew it.

   ?Now that I have your attention again,? he cleared his throat and continued, ?I would have you all show me this Ewil. No-one is heavy on the scales without proof. Show me.? He had to repeat the last part before anyone came forward to help. The thin weasely man beckoned Alyn forward, muttering as they went. The old man fell in beside them as they slowly pushed their way out of the square. Two of the villagers, burly blacksmith types by the look of them, grabbed both of the girls arms and hauled her along in the wake of Alyns horse.

   Alyn?s horse whickered nervously, as if feeling the girls gaze on him as surely as Alyn did. Alyn sheathed his sword and patted Rapier reassuringly. Sometimes he wondered if beasts of burdens saw more than anyone knew. As they went, the young knight stared at the hook nosed man who led them and wondered what he was going to do.



       Young Ewil lay on the grass outside the general store. As Alyn and his large escort of villagers approached, he could see his body had been arranged to look as if he were sleeping, arms crossed on his chest and eyes closed. Hair slick with old sweat clung to his pale, lifeless face. Alyn understood that Ewil had not been found this way. The villagers had each clamoured to put in their two bits on the way over. Cutting through the hearsay was difficult but at the core he found that the boy had been discovered on the floor of the general store, shrieking and foaming at the mouth while clutching at nothing.

      At Ewils head crouched a woman clad in a grey dress, matching the old apothecary that had first spoken to Alyn. As they approached she stood, brushing off stray grass blades from the hem of her dress. She was not beautiful by any means, but had a warm and trusting face which pained Alyn when he saw the sadness in her eyes. The crowd drew to a halt, and she looked about as if daring anyone to come closer to what was evidently her domain.

       "M'lord, this is Emmalina Trey," said the old apothecary as he shoved his way through the crowd, evidently having been pushed back by the others. "She is the finest healer Three Bridges has. Not a single herb or remedy has worked. Everything we've tried--"

    "Has worked?" Alyn cut in, "you mean Ewil is still alive? Why did no one come forward with this?" Hurriedly he dropped from Rapiers saddle and knelt by the boys side. Up close, Alyn could detect the faint rise and fall of the boys chest. A hand placed on the boys chest revealed an extremely irregular heartbeat. Scanning the body, Alyn found the source of Ewils pain.

       Blood stained the boys grey shirt, just visible beneath his gray coat. The fabric had been cut away to reveal the wound, where efforts had been made to staunch it. Alyn almost turned away, his gut churning; the wound was blackened and decayed, and a faint hiss of boiling flesh came from within. Gritting his teeth Alyn placed his hand on the boys side and asked the Lady for guidance. He could feel the girls eyes on the back of his head.

        Alyn closed his eyes and let the calm void of meditation wash over him. A trick of sorts, taught to every Order man. Worries washed away as he envisioned an ocean of tranquility. The voices of the townsfolk sounded as if miles away instead of several feet away. Alyn understood that this mental space was unique to the paladin who thought it. The sea was calm, but as he directed his thoughts in a simple mantra of healing, the waters began to churn and boil, blackening before him. Shocked, he nearly lost his concentration, the vision wavering in his mind.

      "You cannot heal Darksteel, boy. Better to cut away the ruined flesh."

      Alyn almost snapped back to reality but caught himself as he realized the voice came from within his own head. For a moment he thought that the Lady Herself was speaking to him, but the voice was cold and emotionless. As if matching the tone, the mental waters of meditation began to solidify into ice. Somehow he found his voice.

     "Who are you? How are you speaking to me in my own head?"

      "We are all part of the same Possiblility. With proper training, it is simple to share the same space as another." The voice echoed around him and he focused in on it. "You can end it at any time."

     Then he saw her. The pale-faced girl stood there on the forming ice, her black cloak streaming out behind her as if underwater. It was the same girl that stood not five feet from him in the real world. The mental construct shook every few seconds now, as if matching the beating of a heart.

     "He is dying," she said simply, "the darkness eats away at his core."

     "Damn you in the Light of the Lady, woman! You speak of his life as if it is meaningless. You think death is your plaything? Damn you!" Alyns voice shook with anger as he focused in on the wound. Outside of his mind, time seemed slow, the villagers nervously conversing while he knelt by the boy. There had to be something he could do! Prayers to Tyrwynn escaped his lips as he desperately tried to draw the poison out--he was sure it was poison--and save the boys life.

      "How are our lives not meaningless, paladin? What do you know of death?"

       Gritting his teeth, he tore at the darkness with bare hands. "I saw your bloody mind. You think that excuses you?"

       "You saw? Impossible, a boy--"

       The darkness pulsed out from the wound, and the mental ocean Alyn had constructed had turned black. He struggled to hold on: to do anything against the tide of shadow, but the poison of Darksteel overcame everything he could muster.

       He opened his eyes. The hand he had laid upon Ewils chest shook, and when he looked closer he saw the skin blackening before his eyes. With a strangled cry he fell backwards onto his back, clutching the hand to his chest. When he finally dared to look at his hand again, he was sweating heavily. No trace of the blackness remained. Alyn let out a sigh of relief and realized everyone was watching him lying there in the dirt. Fearful faces peered down at him, but no one dared to move an inch. He could feel an uneasy prickle playing down his neck.

       "I'm fine. No need to worry about me."

       Apparently his words were all that was needed to break the tension, as he suddenly found himself surrounded by people asking after his health: was there anything I could get for my lord? Just rest a bit my lord.  Should we get some honey and water for my lord? Would my lord like something to eat to settle his stomach? It took a near shout from the beleaguered paladin to silence them at last.

      "Everything is fine. I was... Overcome, by the tragedy of these circumstances. It is never a good day when a man must bury a boy."

       That seemed to do the trick. Everyone was all ears now. Gradually he realized that the prickle he had been feeling was the gaze of the pale girl. As Alyn recovered and gained his feet she looked away, shrouding her face beneath her hood. A rare anger smouldered in the young knight.

       "Why did you kill Ewil? Look at me, girl. Why? Why the boy?" When she would not meet her gaze, he cupped her chin in his hand and gently pushed her head up. He drew in a breath when he saw fear in her eyes. From what he had seen of her he had not expected it was an emotion she was capable of. Suddenly he realized her hands had gone to the hilts of the swords at her waist and the crowd had backed away.

       "Who let you keep your swords?" Alyn stared around the crowd. They would not meet his gaze. "Not that I would blame them. You are a frightful girl. But I am not a poor put upon farmer whose village has just seen a great tragedy. I am a paladin. By the grace of the Lady I will take justice into my own hands." With that, his hands shot forward and pulled the swords free before she could react. As the swords swung through the air they seemed to suck in the light from around then rather than gleam. One He stuck the blades into the ground behind him smoothly, just as she stepped forward in outrage. No fear now. One of the blades quivered lower than the other, clearly broken near the middle.

       "I am no girl! I have four times your years, boy." She punctuated each sentence with a step forward until she was staring up at him with a fiery gaze. Gasps from the crowd emanated at her words. No woman of an age could look like that! "Do you think disarming me will stop me from killing you, boy? You think your armor will protect you? A verianos knows a thousand ways to kill. I  will snap your neck, pluck out your eyes, impale you on your own sword, you impudent, posturing child!" She practically shrieked those last words, her body shaking with rage. Suddenly she seemed to realize she may have said too much and pulled her hood down around her face. The village had fallen silent during her tirade. Not one of them would have dared to attempt disarming the girl.

        "Then why haven't you?" Alyns words seemed to hit her like a hammer blow. She stepped back a pace and drew her cloak about her with a fierceness. He slipped the hand and a half from his back and stabbed it into the ground so that the hilt quivered. "Go on. Kill me." When she stepped back a pace, he pressed his luck. I'll be lucky if she only breaks my neck, he thought. "My sword is perfectly balanced. Sharp, well-made. My blacksmith is an expert. Draw the sword and get it over with." Another step back and she reached a wall with nowhere to go. Alyn wondered how far he could push. "But you won't, will you? Else you would have slain the first people on the scene. Else you would have cut your way out, damn the cost. I should have known." He punctuated his last words with a sharp laugh, and with that, he pulled his sword free and replaced it securely across his back. That's when she hit him.

      Alyns head rung like a bell at mass and black spots danced before his eyes. No girl had ever hit him like that before, even the squires in the training circles! Not just a slap but a solid clock across his jaw that staggered him to one knee. When a further attack never came, he gingerly felt his mouth for blood--none, luckily--and straightened up. The two blacksmith types had found their stones long enough to restrain her arms, perhaps since she did not appear to struggle. Oddly enough she appeared calm now, her icy eyes regarding him coolly from beneath her hood.

       "Release her. Or at least loosen your grip a nudge. I deserved that." He added the last part upon seeing the looks the two men gave. It was the kind of look that said "if I let go I will die", but they relaxed after a few moments. The fear stayed on their faces however. It was almost comical to Alyn, two men with arms like tree trunks treating the girl as if she were a Thygian viper. The girl was shooting him a dirty look again. Clearly this was not how things were done in her lands. Alyn sighed and dusted off his knee where he had fallen. Why hadn't he just killed her? Why did he give her that chance? Somehow he knew he had made up his mind about how this would end before he had even spoken his first words in Three Bridges. When Alyn made up his mind, it took a mountain to move him.

       "I think it is high time to be done with the games. Would you gentlemen escort the lady to..." Alyn trailed off, suddenly realising he had no idea where to bring her. "Is there a chapel here? Something of that sort?"

      "Of course m'lord. Blessings upon Tyrwynn and her children all." The old knobbly man had finally found words to fit his mouth, where earlier he had just worked his jaw futilely as events unfolded. "But this really should be brought before the Village Seat. Not to mention the vileness of bringing a wight into a holy place. Not that I would imply you would do wrong, m'lord," the elder added, licking his lips and bowing nervously.

     "The Lady will not mind if her temple is used, as long as it is for justice, and justice is what I intend. Or is the Village Seat above the Order now?" Alyn did not add the part where the Order was stationed in the south, and Keldar distinctly not southern. "Bring her there. Go!" The old man started out of his bowing and barked orders at the two men holding the girl.

      Fire blazed in the girl again and she strained forward, the two men sweating as they held her back.
"I am Sha'zel, daughter of the ancient blood of Inkavius." Her teeth bared in a snarl, "I have seen a thousand tragedies worse than a dead child. I have killed more men than your entire town! I will not take orders from you!"

     Alyn pulled her swords free from the mud and tucked them under his arm, careful not to touch the edges of the things. The edges of the blades spiked near the hilt and the entire sword length was razor sharp. Safely tucked, he swept past her, leading Rapier along with him. ?You?ve made your choice already. Bring her.? The two men nodded glumly, clearly expecting her to struggle again. She had chosen to become docile again, and allow them to lead her. Perhaps she hoped to get close to Alyn again and recover her swords, that and leave him for dead. He could feel her eyes boring into his shoulder blades, even through his mail and cloak. Maybe he had pushed his luck too far this time.





   ?Leave us.? Alyn commanded, when he and his escort reached the foot of the chapel the old man had described. Above them rose a small hill upon which a squat, bare-bones chapel sat surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges turning brown in the autumn air. Small windows, around Alyn?s height, lay set into the walls around the building, stained glass depicting scenes of devotion and glory. Though the artistry was amateur, Alyn could still make out the Meeting, where Tyrwynn herself came down to Kirin and spoke to Isaac the Blessed. Such depictions were common to any place devoted to the Lady, for the Meeting had happened fifty-three years ago, during a time of strife in the Princedom. Alyn wished he had been born earlier. He wanted to know what the first paladin was like, in the flesh. Surely he would not have been planning what Alyn was about to do. He was glad that the old man had managed to disperse the crowd before they reached the chapel, though he could still see several of them peeking through the gaps in their curtains at him.

   ?Are you certain milord? She is dangerous. A caged lion if I ever saw one.? The knobbly old man noticeably avoided looking at the girl--Sha?zel, was her name?--and instead looked anywhere else, making him the picture of a nervous wreck. ?The Village Seat will be here soon, you needn?t worry yourself with such matters, really. I--?

   ?Have no fear, elder. I am trained to do the Lady?s work. If justice is to be found, I will find it. As for this Village Seat, tell them I have everything in hand.? Not a hint of uncertainty touched Alyn?s words. As luck would have it, all that uncertainty stayed in his head. Sha?zel stood wrapped in her cloak, her hood drawn and the two blacksmiths standing nervously to either side, clearly expecting her to bolt. Alyn could still feel her eyes piercing through him. The young knight wondered if she could sense his fear. He shook his head. She could probably read his mind. ?Everything in hand, elder. Leave it to me.?

   Clearly the old man would rather stay here and argue, but a glance at the twin swords tucked under Alyn?s arm and a quick furtive look at Sha?zel made him change his mind in a hurry. All knees and elbows, he hobbled off with the two men in tow.
?Ought to string the girl up by a thick branch, my Lord.? said the hook-nosed man before
turning to follow. ?No good can come of someone like her.?

Alyn watched the hook-nosed man speed up to catch the others, the lot of them almost running after a few moments. The young knight sighed and turned back to his ward.

?That won?t be the last of them. People like this ?Village Seat? rarely take no for an answer. Will you come inside?? Alyn didn?t wait for a reply but pushed open the tall wooden doors to the chapel.

Inside, the chapel was small but spacious, lacking all decorum save several rows of finely carved benches and an altar beneath a mosaic of the Meeting. The remaining daylight that escaped my butt cover streamed through the windows, illuminating flecks of dust in the air set in motion by the doors. Alyn grimaced. The village was clearly not as devoted as the elder had led him to believe. Shrugging off his dusty cloak and the scabbard across his back, Alyn shut the doors behind the two of them and placed his items on a nearby seat. The darksteel blades he placed on the altar itself. What sunlight touched the altar seemed to be sucked into the material of the blades, though the broken blade seemed less so.

?What are these?? Alyn asked. His hand traced the length of the unbroken blade. The metal felt unnaturally cold to the touch. Sha?zel stood next to the doorway still, eying the hand and a half Alyn had left on the bench as if weighing her chances. Alyn?s finger brushed the outline of an insignia expertly worked into the hilt; a broken crescent moon, before moving down the handle--dark wrapped leather--and landing on the hilt, a finely wrought piece of metal in the shape of a snarling beast he did not recognize. ?A broken moon. Unknown creatures. Steel that snatches the light out of the air. The Lightless Land. A refugee from a land that shouldn?t exist.? He paused for a moment, thinking. ?Why did I see your memories??

Sha?zel peeled her gaze away from the sword and pushed her hood back. Long flowing hair like silver spilled out around her shoulders, framing a pointed aquiline face. For once, her face was not twisted in anger or hatred. It simply remained cold and emotionless, an icy sculpture. She was handsome, perhaps, a marble carving of a hard woman from a harder land.

?Memories are collective. Simply put, every man, woman or creature in this land belongs to the same universe. The same Possibility. Memories are simply a drop in the ocean of the Resonance. In times of emotional distress, have you not sometimes felt through anothers eyes?? She wore a pained expression now. She answered his next question before he spoke it. ?I am fey. My blood is infused with the Song, though the Song does not speak to verianos.?

?You are an exile.? Things began to click in Alyn?s head. ?Aieros means the Gifted People. Those Who Have the Gift. You are a descendant of Calantar.? Alyn knew the story of Calantar well. All men who followed the Lady knew the story of the fall of Calantar. The hubris of the aieros who reached too far and sought a power far greater than they could control. Their mistake drowned the world in chaos for a hundred years. ?Verianos. Those Who Lost the Gift.?

?Lost is not the word. There is no translation to describe the act of having a part of yourself ripped from you. That is what my people feel. We fill that hole with rage. With death.? The light of anger returned to her eyes. ?My people made a mistake that damned us to eternal darkness in the Lightless Land. Hate is all we know now.? Suddenly she smiled, the smile of a feral creature. Shocked, Alyn almost reached for a sword that was not there. The Lady knew he would not touch the cursed darksteel. She moved to stand on the other side of the altar from him, extending her hand to caress her blades almost wistfully. ?You would not understand the brutality of our world, paladin. It is kill or be killed. One wrong move and--? she clicked her tongue, her hand snatching up the broken sword and pointing it level with Alyn?s chest, ?--it?s over. I am the last survivor of my bloodline. Last of Inkavius, one of the Circle of Nine who sat at the head of Calantar a thousand years ago.? The point of her sword remained at Alyn?s chest as she moved around the altar to stand beside him. ?You wanted to know what these swords are? What my land is? Let me show you.? Her smile was wicked as she reached out a hand to his face.

The chapel melted away.

Black spires erupted from the earth around them. The walls crumbled away. Glass shattered and fell to ruin. The vision Alyn had seen became real before his eyes, a bleak land beneath the dull glow of perpetual twilight. Acrid smoke filled the air, though Alyn did not cough. Through the haze, Alyn could see a tower the color of midnight soaring on the horizon.

?Vas Verianos. The Nine are imprisoned there. It is home.? As Alyn?s eyes grew wide with shock, so too did her smile grow. He worked his mouth futilely. Surely this could not be real! Suddenly the land blurred as they sped through it, taking steps through miles of terrain in an instant. Surely this is another memory! Her smile remained, the only constant in his vision. Alyn?s head throbbed painfully. His vision swam and his head was pierced with a sudden pain as they jolted to a halt.

?Sharing memory can be. . . difficult, for those who lack the Gift. Would you like to see the ruins of my homeland?? Alyn blinked away the haze and sucked in a breath. All around them, soaring towers of dark stone and metal melted away within roaring maelstroms of blue flame. Stone actually melting! The smell of melting rock mixed with burning flesh and he nearly retched. ?Void fire. Negative energy makes a wonderful weapon. After all, how can you fight something that technically doesn?t exist. Don?t worry,? she added, seeing his face, ?it is a difficult concept to understand, even for us. But its practical effect is erasing your foes permanently. See how my people die??

A gestured hand led his gaze to a gibbering man, clawing his way free of debris fallen from one of the ruined towers. His dark armor burned with the void fire and his white face was twisted in a scream that could not--would not come. As Alyn watched sickly, the fire spread throughout his body and melted him away until nothing was left save the shape of a man imbedded in the rock.

?What is. . .? he gasped, ?What is wrong with you??

?What is wrong with me? I am simply showing you what my people do to those they deem, unecessary. Our blood is older than any who walk your world now. Yet void fire will erase your body and spirit completely, leaving only the memory of that blood. Memories are hard to kill at least.? Her eyes burned with the light of the blue flames. ?Now do you understand? Thanravil?s followers slaughtered us to the last.?

?Take us back, Sha?zel.?

?I am the only one left! I am the only one!? Her sword point dug into his chestplate. Alyn could feel the metal buckling beneath the darksteel blade.

?Take us back! NOW!? he screamed.

The memory collapsed. Darkness filled Alyn?s vision for a time. The sword receded, leaving a small hole in the armor but thankfully not grazing his skin. Slowly vision returned and he found her standing with her back turned to him, staring up at the mosaic of the Meeting. Alyn took a deep breath and steadied himself against the altar. His hands shook, but he forced himself over to stand beside her. For a time, the two of them stood silently looking up at the Lady. She was resplendent in shining armor made of ivory tiles, reaching down a hand to a kneeling Isaac.

?I do understand, Sha?zel.? Alyn said finally, her name sounding queer and alien to him. His voice was dry as he searched for words. ?Perhaps not in the same way you do. But I understand the desire for a fresh start. A new life, away from the past. That?s what you want. It must be. I too left home to begin anew.? He chuckled sadly, ?it would have broke my father?s heart to know I left the north to read and pray and live in fancy palaces.? Alyn lowered his voice to a gruff baritone and imitated one of his father?s sayings. ?A northern man is born in the place he lives.? His laughter faded away as he tried to look around her shoulder to her face. ?I apologize. I should not be laughing. Forgive me.?

Suddenly her mask shattered, and her face twisted in pain. She looked away. ?I didn?t mean to kill the boy. Ewil. I didn?t mean to. I was starving. He burst in on me while I was scavenging and I? I??

   ?You killed him. You thought he was an enemy and you killed him. It was self-defence.?

   Sha?zel looked at him in surprise, her eyes widening. ?You mean you thought I was innocent? This whole time??

   ? No-one is heavy on the scales of guilt without proof.? Alyn said with a smile. She punched him square in the jaw again, making him see stars. ?What was that for?? he snapped, when he managed to get upright again. ?I?m bloody well on your side!?

   ?For taking the fool of me in the square. I am no fool girl!? she snapped right back. Despite only coming up to Alyn?s shoulder, her anger made her tower over him in spirit.

   ?Nightmare visions of a hellscape were not enough for you?? he grumbled in retort, ?Scaring an honest man half to death even? And another thing--? A knock on the door ended his words before Sha?zel could find out just what ?another thing? was exactly. "Bloody Village Seat I'll wager. Can't leave well enough alone."

       "Don't you supersede them? You could slay the whole lot of them."

       "Most people around here don't gain status through how many foes they've slain. Most. Technically the Princess of Keldar holds authority here, and the Village Seat in each village big enough to have one gets its authority through her." The pounding continued on the door. Alyn wasn't sure if they were angry with him or worried Sha'zel had murdered him the second they walked into the chapel. "The Order, as sacred as their work is, is still bound by mortal law. The Order proper is located in the jurisdiction of Princetown itself. Cutting short," he said as he moved to unlock the door. "Different countries, different laws." The look on Sha'zels face held the promise of a third punch.

       Alyn sighed and unbarred the door.

 

        Five minutes later found Sha'zel pacing the length of the chapel. The gods of chaos must have particularly had it out for me this time, she thought angrily, though her face had resumed the mask of cool detachment. The nerve of being at the mercy of these children. Of course, to a verianos any daylander was practically a child in the grand scheme of things. The nerve!

       The worst part of it came from the thought she tried to keep pushed down inside. The damn notion kept bubbling back to the surface though, much to her frustration. The truth was she would not kill without good reason. It was her tenet, in this new world, and so she would have to trust in that puffed up boy in his shiny shell if she wanted to get out of here without further violence. A fist to the jaw was going to be the least of his worries though if she got out of this with her head still on her neck. No-one made her snap like that!

      The real truth of it was that she was weak. It had to be. Why should she have cared if one boy died? The vastness of the universe made his death ultimately meaningless: a drop of water in a bucket the size of an ocean. Everything had changed when the followers of Thanravil slaughtered her brethren to the last. Violence was common in the Lightless Land, but the wholesale massacre of an entire bloodline was unheard of. So if Ewil was a drop of water, what then were her people when no one knew they even existed. That knowledge cut deep.

      As she made her twenty-third circuit up the chapel and back--she counted--the door finally creaked open. Alyn quickly slammed it behind him and put his back against the wood.

      "Bloody fools the lot of them. Eyes straining for the light so hard it blinds them. Half of them wants to hang you for the killing and half for you existing, but the real bone of contention is whether beheading or hanging is more suited for that neck of yours. Lady strike me. Fools." Suddenly the young knight realized his rambling. He sighed heavily. "Right good mess we're in."

      "We? What do you mean, we?" Sha'zel demanded, "it is a poor death, true, but you have no ties to me. Let it go." Sha?zel was not afraid of death, though death would certainly ruin any chances of seeing revenge on Thanravil. The knight crossed the chapel to stand over her, a sad look on his face. Sha'zel glared him down to size. Undeterred, the knight continued.

      "Sometimes people take risks for others and they don't really understand why. This is one of those times. I'm not about to let you be killed without fair trial." The knight wore a sad smile. Sha'zel wanted to slap it off him.

      "Touching. You risk much aiding me."

      "Maybe you will understand someday that not everyone is the enemy." The knocking started on the door again, followed by muffled yelling. Not for the first time, Sha'zel debated breaking her new tenet and cutting her way out of here. It would be the simple solution. The fool boy had given her swords back after all. So why am I still here? "Lady send me more sand for the hourglass.? said Alyn ruefully, ?The Seat expects me to get your confession and drag you by the hair to the chopping block." Alyn gave her a remorseful smile. "Not to fear. As your new friend, I have a plan."

       Friend? This was not how Sha'zel expected her exodus into the sunlands would go. Why in the lightless hells would this boy want to help her? As she watched Alyn gather up his belongings, she had only one thought. If she survived, she would find a way to pay back this debt. Perhaps she could still find a way yet to return the favor to Thanravil.

       "There are no words for 'friend' in my tongue, boy."

      "Make one." Alyns smile was infuriating.


    Cair Ebarr knocked on the chapel door once more, an urgent pounding. What was taking that bloody knight so long? If not for him he and the rest of the Village Seat could have executed the abomination already and been home by dinner time. The gall of that Order lackey. Self-defence, pah! Cair Ebarr had seen the wound on Ewils body with his own two eyes. The wound smoked. Smoked! Self-defence, laughable.

     "Master I urge you to reconsider," said the voice at his elbow. The old man was all knees and elbows and gave a frightened bow when Cair Ebarr turned his glare on him. "He is a man of honour, Master Ebarr. I've talked to him meself. He's a true one through and through me says. Maybe we should listen to his words."

     "For the last time old man," Cair could not remember the elders name for the life of him, "you are not a Sitter. You are not on the Village Seat. Frankly that means your opinion is of no concern to me." Bloody fools the lot of these people. Nothing like the capital. Not for the first time Cair Ebarr wished he had never been transfered here. Not a hair of these people had a lick of sense, and Cair Ebarr was not about to let some trounced up knight from the southlands get his way over him. "Now shove off and tell the rest of this lot the Seat has it all in hand."

     The rest of the Seat looked a great deal less confident than him, but then again, they were all village bumpkins who had never seen a real town, or real law for that matter. Their faces hovered between uncertainty and outrage. At least these farmers had the sense enough to be offended by a southern man trying to overstep his boundaries. Annoyingly, the old man continued to hover around Ebarrs elbow, though he kept his naggings to himself.

     "Open up in there, damn you! You'll not be getting no trial no matter how bleeding long you hide out in there boy! The wight is an abomination before your own Lady!" Unexpectedly the door creaked open when Cair Ebarr pounded on it again. "About time you saw the light, paladin. Let's get this farce over with."

      With his foot just in the door, Cair Ebarr, former spymaster of Keldar, heard the crash of breaking glass. Flinging open the door, he and the rest of the Village Seat piled into the chapel, blinking to adjust to the dark within. Gaping, Ebarr stopped short, making the rest of them pile into his back until he cursed them back again.

         "After them," he shouted, when he found words again, "the bloody paladin went out the window! No, damn you, go around the outside, not through the window! Find them"

        Glass crunched under Cair Ebarrs feet as he stared out the broken window. Pieces of brilliantly coloured glass still clung to the edges of the window frame, glinting in the late sun. The former spymaster watched his Village Seat run uselessly after the two fugitives who had somehow acquired a horse. Ebarr swept from the window in a fury.

      "Fetch me a carrier bird! This crime must not go unpunished."

     One way or another he would see both of them hanged.


         "Where are we going?" Sha'zel said into Alyns back, shouting to be heard through the rushing wind. The horse--Rapier--galloped at top speed, tearing up the road at top speed with Alyns guidance.

       "To meet a few friends of mine," he shouted back. Sha'zel was impressed. The knight might be able to even match one of the verianos lokar riders in handling his charge. A lokar had far too many jaws for a simple boy to handle though. "I'm surprised you haven't tried to jump off yet, Sha'zel."

       "The debt isn't paid yet," her voice hung as she fumbled for his name. He finished it for her.

        "Darksky, Alyn Darksky. My name dates back to the Age of Darkness so I hear." The boy twisted in his saddle and extended his hand with a grin. Sha'zel  regarded the hand curiously, unsure of what he expected. His smile only widened at her confusion.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
     
         
       
       

That sounds like a good idea guys.

Just so everyone knows I may not have time to start this for a couple months as I have a convention to prepare for.

They should be down. I may have one other also. We should get Wolfrin to join too.

Also I forgot to add. The thing about dying in the game is that it isn't too much of a big deal because you are still going to be playing on the other rps in the forum. That's just my thoughts on that.

I will read up on the anime RP system you have Mystic. It sounds like what I want. As for sanctuaries, I was thinking about being able to hide in cities. A higher roll and better intelligence makes it very difficult for another player to track the "weaker" types because of their wits and know-how.

Thanks in general by the way everyone, for the feedback and suggestions.

cool what kind of system do you thin you'll end up using?

For the system I will be making something extremely rules light. It'll be something like 4 stats or so, ranging from 1 to 6. Something like Persona, Wits, Skill, Intelligence, something like that. Haven't nailed it down. I am toying with some different ideas for how combat works, but a lot of the main body of progression involves hiding from other players or having a high enough intelligence to track them or other artefacts down.

That's an interesting thought, but my main concern would be the essence of this "game." Since players have to die to advance the story, then, by nature, only a single player would receive the full experience of all this has to offer-the victor. On the other hand, everyone else would only be taking part in just a mere fraction of the story. Just imagine how it'll be like for the first victim: something akin to playing some random video game for the first time, but only till the first level. They'd miss out on alot.

Don't get me wrong though; I like your idea. However, in order to keep the fun going even for those recently deceased, perhaps you can introduce some kinda Ghost System-a system where previous "holders" die and become "ghosts," which nets them a slew of whole new abilities but with extra limitations (such as only being active at night).

I like the idea of letting people carry on in some fashion. I will have to think on it, and how it will work rules wise. I approached this subject with the mindset of "If I die, then I get to read everyone elses posts". So when dead, you get to see all sides of the story as it continues, rather than just your narrow niche, as remember, you won't know what other players are doing unless they slip up and reveal themselves. I definately get why people might not be happy dying though. :P

Alternatively, you can just make the game player-cooperative.\

I may consider that and have the players start out against each other but band together without actually dying, or few deaths. It was always a possiblity. I think my main reason for a sort of PvP oriented game is because we don't seem to have anything like that on the forum. It's also just a bit of an experiment on my part to see if I can pull off something like this.

Make the year's setting 2012.

More fun(nier) that way.

Done.

Vanil jumped up and down with joy.

"This is exactly what I wanted!. Did Chadra do this? Oh Chadra, I didn't know you had it in you!"

My two roommates will be in, and I can probably get a couple others too from outside the forums.

Hey guys, just wanted to run an interest check for a Roleplay idea I had.

Here's the basic details:

The year is 2020. Meteor showers are spotted across the globe, from New York to Hong Kong. This day, Februrary 22, 2020 would be the day the Fight began.

You are special. Lucky, might be the better word. Or perhaps not. You were near one of the meteor crashes as it fell, and you were the first to get up close. What you found would change your life forever.

A box, plain and ordinary lies in the crater, in every crater across the world. Inside is an item of great power, a legendary artefact from ancient myth turned real. An item, and a cell phone. On that cell phone is a note simply stating,

"You are in the game now. Kill the others and the ultimate prize will be yours. It will be your truest desire. Fight to win, Holder."

------------------
The idea of the game is inspired by such things as Future Diaries and Battle Royale, pitting all players against each other to hunt each other down or form alliances to be the ultimate victor. You must be okay with dying to play this game, for there can only be one. At the same time, you may wish to hunt down unclaimed artefacts to gain an edge, or perhaps examine th mystery surrounding the items you carry.

The items themselves drawn from ancient myths such as Excalibur and Masamune. I am toying with the idea of giving everyone a random one from a list ill make. Everyone will also have their own personal character page where they will write their next move and I will Dm it. If two players meet a new thread will be made for their duel or discussion. Allying is possible but there is still only one winner. There will also be an in-game forum (super meta right?) for players to access through their phones. The phones will also grant additional abilities such as a one time favour, money, and escapes, etc.

The system itself will probably be something simple I cook up. I have some ideas, but I wanted to judge interest before I go on with it.

Let me know if you like the idea or if you have questions.

[First Shot]

"Am I too late to join?"

The voice came from over Wolfrin's shoulder as he loosed his final shot. With a start, Wolfrin turned to survey the newcomer, who had approached quietly. She stood eye to eye with the woodsman, her blue eyes shining with amusement at his surprise. The ugly scar running down the side of Swift's face gave her a crooked smile, which she flashed at Wolfrin as she moved past him to stand at the target line. She felt Wolfrin's gaze lingering on her scar as she went but she ignored it. Most people had cause to stare.

"Not a bad go at it man. Let's see if I can beat it."

Spoiler

First Shot
East. Outer Red Ring
[dice]Rolled 1d20+5 : 17 + 5, total 22[/dice]
[dice]Rolled 1d40 : 21, total 21[/dice]

[close]

Note to self: Look up dual-wielding stuff.

I've noticed you playing it. I have it myself but I haven't really tried it yet.