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Fight! Fight!
Angwe
I'm the dog that ate yr birthday cakeBedford, VA
Angwe and Daskalos have a brawl! Angwe doesn't do well. I left some of the <REDACTED> chatter in because it was relevant and/or funny. Naturally, I edited it for language as well. Spoiler'd for length.
[spoiler]Daskalos says, "I shook up the entrance."
Daskalos pats a compass-inlaid ilmenite bracer in a friendly manner.
Rivas gazes intently upon the focal point before him, the very air resonating with energy.
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "Pilgrimage up if anyone wants to join."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Exits are all sorts of fudged."
Rivas gazes intently upon the focal point before him, the very air resonating with energy.
Rivas has finished preparing the focus for extraction, a look of relief flickering across his features. Brilliant motes of fragmented power swirl around him, clinging to his body.
You tilt your head curiously.
You nod your head at Daskalos sagely.
You see the following people here:
Daskalos, Rivas
He is a wise Yeleni, rare, even among his remarkable race, for his form defies that of mortals in both stature and strength. Smoldering eyes sit deep-set in a lined yet handsomely aged face, scoured by time and combat with a handful of scars and deeper, furrowed wrinkles. His eyes are a pale blue, while light gray hair, nearly white, frame his face as it falls nearly to his shoulders. While he is clearly no stranger to the art of war, his six-foot tall form bears the telltale markings of years spent both in on the battlefield. While his age suggest that his strongest days are past, the well-toned muscles and proud posture suggest that this seasoned veteran is not quite ready to lay aside his arms just yet. He is wearing:
a silver and gold ring
a silken cerulean shirt
knee-high traveling boots
6 silver rings
dimmed golden splintmail
a pair of comfortable black pants
a twisted bracelet of silver and skystone
a red crystal amulet
a necklace of purity
He walks with the blessing of Auresae.
He is a herculean Azudim with a tall, slender stature topping out at six and a half feet. Wide shoulders slim into a narrow waist, skin pale like white marble and very subtly swirled. Visible beneath the pallid skin in several spots, his veins pulse and flow like lava, a searing orange-red as if the very blood of the earth flows within him. Lacking pupils, his eyes shine with an inner colorless flame, casting a white glow from his narrow face while his hair is formed of fire itself, shaped like no natural flame as it spikes and settles in a short style. From his back sprouts a pair of once-white feathered wings that smoke and char, the flicker of heat beneath them like an orange glow though they do not seem to deteriorate further. He is wearing:
a pair of dark trousers
a pair of eagle's wings
a letter satchel
a charred, black quiver
a pair of diffusal goggles
a charred, black pack
a charred, black leather weaponbelt
an enhancing spider's devastating scorched pair of steel-plated bracers
a seamless, black linen longcoat
a bow
a pair of amber glasses
a singed white shirt
a suit of splint mail
a lunar eclipse medallion
a necklace of purity
a white crystal amulet
an iron ylem-binding gauntlet
a yellow crystal amulet
He walks with the blessing of Auresae.
Dryly, you say, "Good thing we're usually fighting the same people."
Northern grove.
---------- v21254 -----------
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[+]
\
[ ]-[ ]
| /
[ ]-[ ]-
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[_]-[$]-[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
\ | x | \ |
--- Northern grove 3:3:1 ---
A comforting feeling of privacy pervades the area. A gentle breeze gusts through this area from the southeast, originating from a strangely tranquil area along a distant path. The ground here appears to have been trampled and trodden over many years, well-used at one point but now overtaken by natural growth that extends through the trees to cover any signs of a path that may have once existed to the northwest. Trees loom over each side of this opening in the undergrowth more heavily, casting shadows and a slight coldness about the area as a gentle mist roils down from what appears to be a cliff-face to the northwest. A Parasol of Privacy has been opened and deployed here. The shining figure of a guardian angel floats in the air here. The shining figure of a guardian angel floats in the air here. A vibrant, crackling aura of raw energy cloaking his form, Daskalos is here. He wields a spiritual mace in his left hand and a jewel-encrusted buckler in his right. A vibrant, crackling aura of raw energy cloaking his form, Rivas is here. He is riding on a tawny mountain lion. He wields a tower shield in his left hand and a spiritual mace in his right. An oppressive blanket of primal energy envelops the area, crackling with tension.
You see exits leading southeast and northwest.
You ask, "Smell anything?"
Daskalos tilts his head back, inhaling sharply several
Daskalos says, "Nope."
An eld attacks
Rivas peers about himself suspiciously.
Haven Locke
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
General:
He is 178 years old.
He was born on the 25th of Ios, year 205 of the Midnight Age.
He is ranked 137th in Aetolia.
He is a Questor of the Far Reaches in the Fellowship of Explorers.
He is the clan head of the clan called 'The Black Sun'.
He is a member of the clan called 'The Catalyst'.
He is a mentor and able to take on proteges.
He has written a personal background.
He is considered to be approximately 275% of your might.
He is an enemy of your guild.
He is an enemy of your city.
He is an enemy of your order.
Fame:
He has been elected to the ruling council of a city.
He has been named 'Locke the Lyncher' by the citizens of Enorian.
He captured the Hearts of Darkness throughout Aetolia.
He is an honorary Indyuk warrior.
He has served as a guildmaster.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Startled by some noise, a cricket jumps to the northwest.
You ask, "Locke isn't awake, is he?"
Rivas shakes his head.
A small Trollish girl leaves toward the southeast, dragging her feet.
Rivas says, "Why?"
Simply, you say, "The traps know him and would take him."
Shrugging, Rivas says, "Let them."
The ghost of a smirk passes fleetingly over your lips.
You ask, "Such a problem he's become that his own citymates won't defend the man?"
Daskalos raises an eyebrow at you.
Rivas says, "I can't speak for my citymates, or any of my other guildmates. Just me speaking here, lad."
You think for a moment before nodding slowly.
A long, slender bamboo reed serves as the handle for this parasol, which appears more decorative than functional. When opened, the wooden runners extend in an even direction all the way around, and the parasol is capable of being set at various degrees of openness. Vibrant red paper covers the slats, painted over with black stripes to describe a simple, yet elegant pattern. Though it appears quite fragile at first glance, the parasol proves to be quite indestructible by every means imaginable, marking it as Ankyrean by heritage.
It is an Ankyrean artifact, enchanted with the following powers:
room_conceal
It is strangely weightless.
It bears the distinctive mark of Daskalos Qefin.
Startled by some noise, a cricket jumps to the northwest.
You have emoted: Angwe seems to take notice of the parasol and tilts his head to read the marks carved into the staff.
You mutter, in Sylvan, "O.."
Daskalos glances at you before walking up and slinging a fist towards the man, aiming for a backhand blow. "You would do well not to speak ill of my guildmates, Sentinel," he says lowly. "For while I do not approve of all his actions, he is still one of ours I will protect him just as you would Illidan, who is an enemy of our home."
Rivas raises an eyebrow at you.
(REDACTED): You say, "Okay, got a coin?"
You sent the following message to Daskalos:
((RP fight? Heads you land a blow, tails you don't?))
You just received message #489 from Daskalos.
Message #489 Sent By: Daskalos Received On: 2/14/2013/2:18
"\\ just play it how you want."
Ethereal energy floods into Rivas's grasp as they extract power from the focal point.
Latent energies flare around the focus, crackling ominously with power before winking out with a hushed whisper. Motes of pale light drift upwards from the dying leyline's focus, smoldering like a dying ember into the firmament as the focal point collapses into the ether.
(Dion an Duir): You say, "Focus at Northern grove in an unstable section of the Ilhavon Forest collapsed!"
Rivas nods his head emphatically.
Rivas says, "That's it."
Inclining his head to both of you, Rivas says, "Gentlemen, always a pleasure."
Tilting his head skywards, Rivas says, "Duanathar."
Rivas is swiftly carried into the skies and out of sight by a pair of eagle's wings.
You have emoted: As the focus ends, Angwe staggers into Daskalos's guard as though wounded. Taking the initiative, he attempts to hook his arm around Daskalos's neck for a flip.
The shifting branches of nearby foliage cast dancing shadows across the ground.
With nary a whisper nor a sigh, rosy-fingered dawn creeps into the land, stealing the soul of the night.
The shadows fade, leaving your footfalls audible once again.
Daskalos moves with the motion of the flip, rolling beyond you and coming up in a crouch as lightning crackles from his fists. "The blow was a warning not to insult my guild, Sentinel," he says in a near growl. "But if you wanna fight, I can slap you around."
The bright sun shines down upon you.
A humbly garbed Trollish woman walks in from the northwest.
You have emoted: Not pausing to speak, Angwe answers by digging his hoofs in the dirt of the forest and reversing his motion. The superior speed of his Yeleni form showing, he swiftly closes the distance between Daskalos and himself, a sharp hoof aimed at the larger Yeleni's face.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "I would argue against Yeleni making you superior, considering Daskalos is also Yeleni."
(REDACTED): Jensen says, "And Daskalos obviously isn't superior."
(REDACTED): You say, "He has superior speed, not superior constitution or strength. Statpacks."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "-- artifacts."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, ":P."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "But, I see you."
(REDACTED): Jensen says, "Dask your artifacts make mine look like I got them at the dollar store."
(REDACTED): You say, "Play it off then
. I don't mind losing."
Rather than attempting to dodge the blow, Daskalos stands firm, his hands coming together to erupt in a crackle, blue tinged lightning erupting from his palms and hurtling through the air towards you.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, ":)"
The bright sun shines down upon you.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "I love these dice."
Looking about herself with a wistful sigh, a Trollish woman leaves southeastward.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Haveing 18\18\21\18 stats."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Siiick."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "Oh god he's started bragging."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "Someone put him to sleep before he gains momentum."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Shut up, ginger."
You have emoted: Angwe manages to avoid the charged blow by dodging to the side, though he sustains a nasty burn for his gambit. A strange scent, like candlewood* burning fills the air as the Sentinel scrambles to his feet.
*(I meant sandalwood. Oops!)
(REDACTED): Rivas says, ":(."
With calm assurance, a large buck enters from the southeast.
(REDACTED): Xavin says, "Gingers are people too, even if they don't have souls."
"Don't make me kill you," Daskalos says as he stands before you, lightning crackling between his fists. "I actually like you, and those better than you have fallen before me."
The bright sun shines down upon you.
A large buck leaves to the southeast with a flick of its tail.
(REDACTED): You say, "Woot! Sorry, back."
(REDACTED): You say, "My laptop might die."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "Like Dask did to Meltas?"
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "OH MY BAD."
You have emoted: Angwe sinks his fingers into the dirt as he looks at Daskalos, his 'eyes' making it difficult to quite tell where he's looking. Stoic, his wooden face betrays little, even as he lashes his arm forward, vines appearing and mirroring the motion as their thorns seek Daskalos's flesh.
(REDACTED): You say, "...Why can he haduken? Magi?"
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Haduken?"
(REDACTED): Jensen says, "Street fighter."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "Down, right, fierce attack man."
(REDACTED>): Daskalos says, "Dask is a Lumy."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "He's using Lightning..."
The bright sun shines down upon you.
(REDACTED): Jensen says, "He means did meltas haduken you."
(REDACTED): You say, "I didn't know they did lightning! Thought they were all RAH! FIRE! INNA SPAHK!"
Daskalos brings his shield up to cover his face, though several of the thorns strike his arms, droplets of blood swelling to the surface as he grumbles. "You little..." he cries out as his entire body erupts into flames, an outward blast centered on his location as his face turns into a snarl. Following the blast are several throws of lightning as he begins running towards you, his mace to the side as he prepares to bring it crashing towards your side.
(REDACTED): Meyvitch says, "Well, how did you think Uncle Iroh learned it?"
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Uncle Iroh?"
(REDACTED): Meyvitch says, "You just lost geek points man."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "I'm a nerd, not a geek :P."
(REDACTED): Meyvitch says, "Heh. Avatar the last airbender."
(REDACTED): Jensen says, "I'll award you points for not knowing."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "You can be a geek without watching children's shows, Dask. You're fine."
(REDACTED): You say, "^."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Heh."
The bright sun shines down upon you.
(REDACTED): Meyvitch says, "Lol."
(REDACTED): Meyvitch says, "I don't get too many channels, I wind up watching junk on my laptop. Some of it's good."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "I dunno Rivas, there are a lot of dark themes in modern kids shows."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "Like with Avatar, the water tribe was basically put through genocide, then the blood bending."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "Whoa whoa whoa. I seriously don't care."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "...it's on the Disney channel. Your argument is invalid."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "So glad I piped up to talk to this guy, he's wonderfully pleasent."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "He totally is."
You have emoted: "No blow against a Sentinel'll go unanswered!" Angwe jeers, already scrambling up the broad trunk of a tree. As Daskalos bursts into flame, he ceases his egress, bearing his teeth. As he snarls a phrase in Sylvan, several animals reveal themselves, and swarm Daskalos. Too late though, for one of the bolts finds its mark and Angwe is flung from her perch.
(REDACTED): You say, "...His."
(REDACTED): You say, "And dat comma."
Daskalos leaps through the air with his mace twirling, an incantation under his breath to pray for strength as he attempts to bring his mace down hard, aiming for yourl egs.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Legs!"
(REDACTED): You say, "Shoot, if this hits Ang is pretty much fug'd."
(REDACTED): You say, "..."
The distant shriek of fallen prey reaches your ears.
The deepening dusk yields to impenetrable darkness as night claims the land.
You silently summon the shadows to soften and conceal your footsteps.
A quiet howl in the distance strikes your ears and sets your hair on end.
You have emoted: Angwe echoes the shriek of fallen prey as Daskalos's mace smashes against his thigh, at least his right leg breaking under the massive blow.
The stars wink into existence, familiar constellations illuminating the night with tales of myth and legend.
Daskalos pulls back his mace for another blow, holding his mace above his head threateningly. "Yield," he growls out under his breath, his entire body sparking with wisps of flame and electricity, his Inner Spark enraged.
The night sky is clear, and the stars twinkle like diamonds.
You have emoted: "No!" Angwe snarls, at last striking out with his dhurive. The poorly aimed blow strikes Daskalos's thigh and his_your limbs begin to loose sensation to the prickle of curare. However, Angwe's position is little improved by this as he gives in to the pain, writhing on the ground and grasping for a vial from his jacket.
Quietly, a little Trollish girl steps in from the southeast.
A small Trollish girl leaves toward the northwest, dragging her feet.
(REDACTED): You say, "Fudge this penny, man."
Daskalos growls as the grasp of paralysis begins to overtake him, but his Guardian Angel, ever present, flares as she sucks the affliction from him. Infuriated, he lashes out, knocking the vial from your hands as he sends bolt after bolt of lightning flinging towards you.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Penny?"
(REDACTED): You say, "I'm flipping a penny. One flip to see if I take the blow, one flip to determine how bad it is and one to see if I can counter."
With calm assurance, a large buck enters from the northwest.
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "Pennies are bad luck, use a canadian nickle."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Isn't that worth less than a penny?"
Deepest Stygian night steals over the land as the symbolic hourglass empties and turns, ready to begin a new day.
It is now the 1st of Lanosian, year 383 of the Midnight Age.
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "Well yeah, it is totally worthless but it flips reeeal nice."
Quietly, a little Trollish girl steps in from the northwest.
(REDACTED): You say, "Switched to a nickel. Much better flips."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "It's got a better weight."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "I suggest not trying to use a half dollar for flips, it kind of stings."
The distant shriek of fallen prey reaches your ears.
The shadows fade, leaving your footfalls audible once again.
Riding her chariot of light, the great life-giver rises from her long sleep and shoots a timorous ray over the horizon.
You have emoted: A furry tide quickly overtakes Daskalos and a sharp pair of fangs find the inside of the Yeleni's thigh, tearing tendons and loosing the blood of Daskalos' veins. Tearing the top off another bottle, Angwe manages to heal his right leg somewhat and kips forward, managing to get his knees under him.
Balance Used: 0.86 seconds
Quietly, a little Trollish girl steps in from the northwest.
Quietly, a little Trollish girl steps in from the northwest.
Daskalos cries out from the bite, stumbling backwards as he immediately presses one of his hands to the wound, healing it near instantly. "Very well," he murmurs as he glances over at his Angel, which begins glaring at you with a piercing glow, your mind being overcome with a stupor. At the same instant, he swings his mace towards you in a paralyzing attack and falls it up with a blast of dark energy from his mace.
A small Trollish girl leaves toward the southeast, dragging her feet.
A small Trollish girl leaves toward the northwest, dragging her feet.
Quietly, a little Trollish girl steps in from the northwest.
(REDACTED): You say, "Emote cold cocks $daskalos with a hoof to da faec. "I win, mu'fudga," he says, lighting up a smoke as he climbs to his feet, sunglasses suddenly appearing before his eyes."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Jeeze, why don't you just godmote, Kiyotan?"
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "He doesn't always win fights, but when he does, he wins them dramatically."
(REDACTED): Tyrak says, "What is a emote?"
Casting off her final fetters, the luminous lady awakens fully, shedding her joyful light from horizon to horizon.
Chirping birdsong drifts down from above.
(REDACTED): You say, "Well shoot. Tried a quarter this time. I take the blow."
(REDACTED): You say, "Shoulda gone for an insta >:F."
(REDACTED): You say, "...Oh wait, I thought he started judge. Lol, I'm drunk."
(REDACTED): You say, "What does that blast cause? Stupidity?"
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Impatience, stops focus."
(REDACTED): You say, "And what'd the angel give him?"
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Stupidity."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "It's my opening combo."
Attaining her fullest glory, the shining sun sits upon her throne at the apex of her daily trek through the firmament.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Angwe, let's wrap up."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Wanna go fiught Meltas."
(REDACTED): Tyrak says, "And get branded again. HEYO."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Fu."
(REDACTED): Tyrak says, ":D."
You have emoted: "Gneehehe!" Angwe snickers stupidly, looking like a jack-o-lantern from green hell as he grins up at Daskalos. Lurching forward suddenly, his arms wrap around Daskalos, his breath hot against his opponent's chest. The blast of dark energy finds it's mark however and Angwe's breath comes shrilly as he rears about wildly for an escape.
The shifting branches of nearby foliage cast dancing shadows across the ground.
(REDACTED): You say, "You've turned him into a snuggly."
Daskalos blinks in clear confusion as he takes a step back, watching you roll around like a damned forestal.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Message received."
(REDACTED): You say, "Alright, go ahead and judge or behead or something."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Nah, won't actually kill you."
Daskalos nods his head at you.
Daskalos says, "Duanatharan."
Daskalos is swiftly carried into the skies and out of sight by a pair of draconic wings.
The sun begins her downward journey towards eventual sleep, casting even, full light upon the land.
You have emoted: "Cookies are nookies!" Angwe cries. "I need, uh... snuggles!" The stupid smile still on his face, he begins peering about the grove, searching carefully for who knows what.
Clarity comes to your mind for but a fleeting moment.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "OMG OMG OMG OMG."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "I had -paralyze- instead of -paralyse-."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Fudge you incorrect british spelling in my american game."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "Anger at british!"
(REDACTED): You say, "As if my grammar is any kind of proper English, American or European."
You have emoted: Angwe abruptly gulps something down. His motions still, the stupid grin on his face fading away to one of utter shame.[/spoiler]
EDITED: Because stuff from Tomboy Notes on Ubuntu doesn't seem to want to copy over to here, so I had to paste it into a pastebin document, copy that and paste it here.
[spoiler]Daskalos says, "I shook up the entrance."
Daskalos pats a compass-inlaid ilmenite bracer in a friendly manner.
Rivas gazes intently upon the focal point before him, the very air resonating with energy.
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "Pilgrimage up if anyone wants to join."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Exits are all sorts of fudged."
Rivas gazes intently upon the focal point before him, the very air resonating with energy.
Rivas has finished preparing the focus for extraction, a look of relief flickering across his features. Brilliant motes of fragmented power swirl around him, clinging to his body.
You tilt your head curiously.
You nod your head at Daskalos sagely.
You see the following people here:
Daskalos, Rivas
He is a wise Yeleni, rare, even among his remarkable race, for his form defies that of mortals in both stature and strength. Smoldering eyes sit deep-set in a lined yet handsomely aged face, scoured by time and combat with a handful of scars and deeper, furrowed wrinkles. His eyes are a pale blue, while light gray hair, nearly white, frame his face as it falls nearly to his shoulders. While he is clearly no stranger to the art of war, his six-foot tall form bears the telltale markings of years spent both in on the battlefield. While his age suggest that his strongest days are past, the well-toned muscles and proud posture suggest that this seasoned veteran is not quite ready to lay aside his arms just yet. He is wearing:
a silver and gold ring
a silken cerulean shirt
knee-high traveling boots
6 silver rings
dimmed golden splintmail
a pair of comfortable black pants
a twisted bracelet of silver and skystone
a red crystal amulet
a necklace of purity
He walks with the blessing of Auresae.
He is a herculean Azudim with a tall, slender stature topping out at six and a half feet. Wide shoulders slim into a narrow waist, skin pale like white marble and very subtly swirled. Visible beneath the pallid skin in several spots, his veins pulse and flow like lava, a searing orange-red as if the very blood of the earth flows within him. Lacking pupils, his eyes shine with an inner colorless flame, casting a white glow from his narrow face while his hair is formed of fire itself, shaped like no natural flame as it spikes and settles in a short style. From his back sprouts a pair of once-white feathered wings that smoke and char, the flicker of heat beneath them like an orange glow though they do not seem to deteriorate further. He is wearing:
a pair of dark trousers
a pair of eagle's wings
a letter satchel
a charred, black quiver
a pair of diffusal goggles
a charred, black pack
a charred, black leather weaponbelt
an enhancing spider's devastating scorched pair of steel-plated bracers
a seamless, black linen longcoat
a bow
a pair of amber glasses
a singed white shirt
a suit of splint mail
a lunar eclipse medallion
a necklace of purity
a white crystal amulet
an iron ylem-binding gauntlet
a yellow crystal amulet
He walks with the blessing of Auresae.
Dryly, you say, "Good thing we're usually fighting the same people."
Northern grove.
---------- v21254 -----------
[^]
\
[+]
\
[ ]-[ ]
| /
[ ]-[ ]-
/ | / |
[_]-[$]-[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
\ | x | \ |
--- Northern grove 3:3:1 ---
A comforting feeling of privacy pervades the area. A gentle breeze gusts through this area from the southeast, originating from a strangely tranquil area along a distant path. The ground here appears to have been trampled and trodden over many years, well-used at one point but now overtaken by natural growth that extends through the trees to cover any signs of a path that may have once existed to the northwest. Trees loom over each side of this opening in the undergrowth more heavily, casting shadows and a slight coldness about the area as a gentle mist roils down from what appears to be a cliff-face to the northwest. A Parasol of Privacy has been opened and deployed here. The shining figure of a guardian angel floats in the air here. The shining figure of a guardian angel floats in the air here. A vibrant, crackling aura of raw energy cloaking his form, Daskalos is here. He wields a spiritual mace in his left hand and a jewel-encrusted buckler in his right. A vibrant, crackling aura of raw energy cloaking his form, Rivas is here. He is riding on a tawny mountain lion. He wields a tower shield in his left hand and a spiritual mace in his right. An oppressive blanket of primal energy envelops the area, crackling with tension.
You see exits leading southeast and northwest.
You ask, "Smell anything?"
Daskalos tilts his head back, inhaling sharply several
Daskalos says, "Nope."
An eld attacks
Rivas peers about himself suspiciously.
Haven Locke
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
General:
He is 178 years old.
He was born on the 25th of Ios, year 205 of the Midnight Age.
He is ranked 137th in Aetolia.
He is a Questor of the Far Reaches in the Fellowship of Explorers.
He is the clan head of the clan called 'The Black Sun'.
He is a member of the clan called 'The Catalyst'.
He is a mentor and able to take on proteges.
He has written a personal background.
He is considered to be approximately 275% of your might.
He is an enemy of your guild.
He is an enemy of your city.
He is an enemy of your order.
Fame:
He has been elected to the ruling council of a city.
He has been named 'Locke the Lyncher' by the citizens of Enorian.
He captured the Hearts of Darkness throughout Aetolia.
He is an honorary Indyuk warrior.
He has served as a guildmaster.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Startled by some noise, a cricket jumps to the northwest.
You ask, "Locke isn't awake, is he?"
Rivas shakes his head.
A small Trollish girl leaves toward the southeast, dragging her feet.
Rivas says, "Why?"
Simply, you say, "The traps know him and would take him."
Shrugging, Rivas says, "Let them."
The ghost of a smirk passes fleetingly over your lips.
You ask, "Such a problem he's become that his own citymates won't defend the man?"
Daskalos raises an eyebrow at you.
Rivas says, "I can't speak for my citymates, or any of my other guildmates. Just me speaking here, lad."
You think for a moment before nodding slowly.
A long, slender bamboo reed serves as the handle for this parasol, which appears more decorative than functional. When opened, the wooden runners extend in an even direction all the way around, and the parasol is capable of being set at various degrees of openness. Vibrant red paper covers the slats, painted over with black stripes to describe a simple, yet elegant pattern. Though it appears quite fragile at first glance, the parasol proves to be quite indestructible by every means imaginable, marking it as Ankyrean by heritage.
It is an Ankyrean artifact, enchanted with the following powers:
room_conceal
It is strangely weightless.
It bears the distinctive mark of Daskalos Qefin.
Startled by some noise, a cricket jumps to the northwest.
You have emoted: Angwe seems to take notice of the parasol and tilts his head to read the marks carved into the staff.
You mutter, in Sylvan, "O.."
Daskalos glances at you before walking up and slinging a fist towards the man, aiming for a backhand blow. "You would do well not to speak ill of my guildmates, Sentinel," he says lowly. "For while I do not approve of all his actions, he is still one of ours I will protect him just as you would Illidan, who is an enemy of our home."
Rivas raises an eyebrow at you.
(REDACTED): You say, "Okay, got a coin?"
You sent the following message to Daskalos:
((RP fight? Heads you land a blow, tails you don't?))
You just received message #489 from Daskalos.
Message #489 Sent By: Daskalos Received On: 2/14/2013/2:18
"\\ just play it how you want."
Ethereal energy floods into Rivas's grasp as they extract power from the focal point.
Latent energies flare around the focus, crackling ominously with power before winking out with a hushed whisper. Motes of pale light drift upwards from the dying leyline's focus, smoldering like a dying ember into the firmament as the focal point collapses into the ether.
(Dion an Duir): You say, "Focus at Northern grove in an unstable section of the Ilhavon Forest collapsed!"
Rivas nods his head emphatically.
Rivas says, "That's it."
Inclining his head to both of you, Rivas says, "Gentlemen, always a pleasure."
Tilting his head skywards, Rivas says, "Duanathar."
Rivas is swiftly carried into the skies and out of sight by a pair of eagle's wings.
You have emoted: As the focus ends, Angwe staggers into Daskalos's guard as though wounded. Taking the initiative, he attempts to hook his arm around Daskalos's neck for a flip.
The shifting branches of nearby foliage cast dancing shadows across the ground.
With nary a whisper nor a sigh, rosy-fingered dawn creeps into the land, stealing the soul of the night.
The shadows fade, leaving your footfalls audible once again.
Daskalos moves with the motion of the flip, rolling beyond you and coming up in a crouch as lightning crackles from his fists. "The blow was a warning not to insult my guild, Sentinel," he says in a near growl. "But if you wanna fight, I can slap you around."
The bright sun shines down upon you.
A humbly garbed Trollish woman walks in from the northwest.
You have emoted: Not pausing to speak, Angwe answers by digging his hoofs in the dirt of the forest and reversing his motion. The superior speed of his Yeleni form showing, he swiftly closes the distance between Daskalos and himself, a sharp hoof aimed at the larger Yeleni's face.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "I would argue against Yeleni making you superior, considering Daskalos is also Yeleni."
(REDACTED): Jensen says, "And Daskalos obviously isn't superior."
(REDACTED): You say, "He has superior speed, not superior constitution or strength. Statpacks."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "-- artifacts."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, ":P."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "But, I see you."
(REDACTED): Jensen says, "Dask your artifacts make mine look like I got them at the dollar store."
(REDACTED): You say, "Play it off then
. I don't mind losing."Rather than attempting to dodge the blow, Daskalos stands firm, his hands coming together to erupt in a crackle, blue tinged lightning erupting from his palms and hurtling through the air towards you.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, ":)"
The bright sun shines down upon you.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "I love these dice."
Looking about herself with a wistful sigh, a Trollish woman leaves southeastward.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Haveing 18\18\21\18 stats."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Siiick."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "Oh god he's started bragging."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "Someone put him to sleep before he gains momentum."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Shut up, ginger."
You have emoted: Angwe manages to avoid the charged blow by dodging to the side, though he sustains a nasty burn for his gambit. A strange scent, like candlewood* burning fills the air as the Sentinel scrambles to his feet.
*(I meant sandalwood. Oops!)
(REDACTED): Rivas says, ":(."
With calm assurance, a large buck enters from the southeast.
(REDACTED): Xavin says, "Gingers are people too, even if they don't have souls."
"Don't make me kill you," Daskalos says as he stands before you, lightning crackling between his fists. "I actually like you, and those better than you have fallen before me."
The bright sun shines down upon you.
A large buck leaves to the southeast with a flick of its tail.
(REDACTED): You say, "Woot! Sorry, back."
(REDACTED): You say, "My laptop might die."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "Like Dask did to Meltas?"
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "OH MY BAD."
You have emoted: Angwe sinks his fingers into the dirt as he looks at Daskalos, his 'eyes' making it difficult to quite tell where he's looking. Stoic, his wooden face betrays little, even as he lashes his arm forward, vines appearing and mirroring the motion as their thorns seek Daskalos's flesh.
(REDACTED): You say, "...Why can he haduken? Magi?"
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Haduken?"
(REDACTED): Jensen says, "Street fighter."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "Down, right, fierce attack man."
(REDACTED>): Daskalos says, "Dask is a Lumy."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "He's using Lightning..."
The bright sun shines down upon you.
(REDACTED): Jensen says, "He means did meltas haduken you."
(REDACTED): You say, "I didn't know they did lightning! Thought they were all RAH! FIRE! INNA SPAHK!"
Daskalos brings his shield up to cover his face, though several of the thorns strike his arms, droplets of blood swelling to the surface as he grumbles. "You little..." he cries out as his entire body erupts into flames, an outward blast centered on his location as his face turns into a snarl. Following the blast are several throws of lightning as he begins running towards you, his mace to the side as he prepares to bring it crashing towards your side.
(REDACTED): Meyvitch says, "Well, how did you think Uncle Iroh learned it?"
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Uncle Iroh?"
(REDACTED): Meyvitch says, "You just lost geek points man."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "I'm a nerd, not a geek :P."
(REDACTED): Meyvitch says, "Heh. Avatar the last airbender."
(REDACTED): Jensen says, "I'll award you points for not knowing."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "You can be a geek without watching children's shows, Dask. You're fine."
(REDACTED): You say, "^."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Heh."
The bright sun shines down upon you.
(REDACTED): Meyvitch says, "Lol."
(REDACTED): Meyvitch says, "I don't get too many channels, I wind up watching junk on my laptop. Some of it's good."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "I dunno Rivas, there are a lot of dark themes in modern kids shows."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "Like with Avatar, the water tribe was basically put through genocide, then the blood bending."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "Whoa whoa whoa. I seriously don't care."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "...it's on the Disney channel. Your argument is invalid."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "So glad I piped up to talk to this guy, he's wonderfully pleasent."
(REDACTED): Rivas says, "He totally is."
You have emoted: "No blow against a Sentinel'll go unanswered!" Angwe jeers, already scrambling up the broad trunk of a tree. As Daskalos bursts into flame, he ceases his egress, bearing his teeth. As he snarls a phrase in Sylvan, several animals reveal themselves, and swarm Daskalos. Too late though, for one of the bolts finds its mark and Angwe is flung from her perch.
(REDACTED): You say, "...His."
(REDACTED): You say, "And dat comma."
Daskalos leaps through the air with his mace twirling, an incantation under his breath to pray for strength as he attempts to bring his mace down hard, aiming for yourl egs.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Legs!"
(REDACTED): You say, "Shoot, if this hits Ang is pretty much fug'd."
(REDACTED): You say, "..."
The distant shriek of fallen prey reaches your ears.
The deepening dusk yields to impenetrable darkness as night claims the land.
You silently summon the shadows to soften and conceal your footsteps.
A quiet howl in the distance strikes your ears and sets your hair on end.
You have emoted: Angwe echoes the shriek of fallen prey as Daskalos's mace smashes against his thigh, at least his right leg breaking under the massive blow.
The stars wink into existence, familiar constellations illuminating the night with tales of myth and legend.
Daskalos pulls back his mace for another blow, holding his mace above his head threateningly. "Yield," he growls out under his breath, his entire body sparking with wisps of flame and electricity, his Inner Spark enraged.
The night sky is clear, and the stars twinkle like diamonds.
You have emoted: "No!" Angwe snarls, at last striking out with his dhurive. The poorly aimed blow strikes Daskalos's thigh and his_your limbs begin to loose sensation to the prickle of curare. However, Angwe's position is little improved by this as he gives in to the pain, writhing on the ground and grasping for a vial from his jacket.
Quietly, a little Trollish girl steps in from the southeast.
A small Trollish girl leaves toward the northwest, dragging her feet.
(REDACTED): You say, "Fudge this penny, man."
Daskalos growls as the grasp of paralysis begins to overtake him, but his Guardian Angel, ever present, flares as she sucks the affliction from him. Infuriated, he lashes out, knocking the vial from your hands as he sends bolt after bolt of lightning flinging towards you.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Penny?"
(REDACTED): You say, "I'm flipping a penny. One flip to see if I take the blow, one flip to determine how bad it is and one to see if I can counter."
With calm assurance, a large buck enters from the northwest.
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "Pennies are bad luck, use a canadian nickle."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Isn't that worth less than a penny?"
Deepest Stygian night steals over the land as the symbolic hourglass empties and turns, ready to begin a new day.
It is now the 1st of Lanosian, year 383 of the Midnight Age.
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "Well yeah, it is totally worthless but it flips reeeal nice."
Quietly, a little Trollish girl steps in from the northwest.
(REDACTED): You say, "Switched to a nickel. Much better flips."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "It's got a better weight."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "I suggest not trying to use a half dollar for flips, it kind of stings."
The distant shriek of fallen prey reaches your ears.
The shadows fade, leaving your footfalls audible once again.
Riding her chariot of light, the great life-giver rises from her long sleep and shoots a timorous ray over the horizon.
You have emoted: A furry tide quickly overtakes Daskalos and a sharp pair of fangs find the inside of the Yeleni's thigh, tearing tendons and loosing the blood of Daskalos' veins. Tearing the top off another bottle, Angwe manages to heal his right leg somewhat and kips forward, managing to get his knees under him.
Balance Used: 0.86 seconds
Quietly, a little Trollish girl steps in from the northwest.
Quietly, a little Trollish girl steps in from the northwest.
Daskalos cries out from the bite, stumbling backwards as he immediately presses one of his hands to the wound, healing it near instantly. "Very well," he murmurs as he glances over at his Angel, which begins glaring at you with a piercing glow, your mind being overcome with a stupor. At the same instant, he swings his mace towards you in a paralyzing attack and falls it up with a blast of dark energy from his mace.
A small Trollish girl leaves toward the southeast, dragging her feet.
A small Trollish girl leaves toward the northwest, dragging her feet.
Quietly, a little Trollish girl steps in from the northwest.
(REDACTED): You say, "Emote cold cocks $daskalos with a hoof to da faec. "I win, mu'fudga," he says, lighting up a smoke as he climbs to his feet, sunglasses suddenly appearing before his eyes."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Jeeze, why don't you just godmote, Kiyotan?"
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "He doesn't always win fights, but when he does, he wins them dramatically."
(REDACTED): Tyrak says, "What is a emote?"
Casting off her final fetters, the luminous lady awakens fully, shedding her joyful light from horizon to horizon.
Chirping birdsong drifts down from above.
(REDACTED): You say, "Well shoot. Tried a quarter this time. I take the blow."
(REDACTED): You say, "Shoulda gone for an insta >:F."
(REDACTED): You say, "...Oh wait, I thought he started judge. Lol, I'm drunk."
(REDACTED): You say, "What does that blast cause? Stupidity?"
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Impatience, stops focus."
(REDACTED): You say, "And what'd the angel give him?"
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Stupidity."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "It's my opening combo."
Attaining her fullest glory, the shining sun sits upon her throne at the apex of her daily trek through the firmament.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Angwe, let's wrap up."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Wanna go fiught Meltas."
(REDACTED): Tyrak says, "And get branded again. HEYO."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Fu."
(REDACTED): Tyrak says, ":D."
You have emoted: "Gneehehe!" Angwe snickers stupidly, looking like a jack-o-lantern from green hell as he grins up at Daskalos. Lurching forward suddenly, his arms wrap around Daskalos, his breath hot against his opponent's chest. The blast of dark energy finds it's mark however and Angwe's breath comes shrilly as he rears about wildly for an escape.
The shifting branches of nearby foliage cast dancing shadows across the ground.
(REDACTED): You say, "You've turned him into a snuggly."
Daskalos blinks in clear confusion as he takes a step back, watching you roll around like a damned forestal.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Message received."
(REDACTED): You say, "Alright, go ahead and judge or behead or something."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Nah, won't actually kill you."
Daskalos nods his head at you.
Daskalos says, "Duanatharan."
Daskalos is swiftly carried into the skies and out of sight by a pair of draconic wings.
The sun begins her downward journey towards eventual sleep, casting even, full light upon the land.
You have emoted: "Cookies are nookies!" Angwe cries. "I need, uh... snuggles!" The stupid smile still on his face, he begins peering about the grove, searching carefully for who knows what.
Clarity comes to your mind for but a fleeting moment.
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "OMG OMG OMG OMG."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "I had -paralyze- instead of -paralyse-."
(REDACTED): Daskalos says, "Fudge you incorrect british spelling in my american game."
(REDACTED): Volmarion says, "Anger at british!"
(REDACTED): You say, "As if my grammar is any kind of proper English, American or European."
You have emoted: Angwe abruptly gulps something down. His motions still, the stupid grin on his face fading away to one of utter shame.[/spoiler]
EDITED: Because stuff from Tomboy Notes on Ubuntu doesn't seem to want to copy over to here, so I had to paste it into a pastebin document, copy that and paste it here.
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"The smell of dusty fur, sweet smoke, waiting and patience, a thing that time cannot kill. The moth that candles won't burn."