WuHanXianShi14

Art quickly paces over to the nightstand where the swipes the coil and rope behind his back, he turns quickly back to face his sister.

"Er...Imighthavemaybebeenconsideringsuicide..." He slurs, speaking in a muddled voice. "Oh! But where have you been? I haven't seen you in decades Ali!" This is said with sudden enthusiasm.

((Kilteddemon31 is not a roleplay name. Your character needs a proper name, one that isnt your minecraft username for people to call him by.))

Given name(RP name): Throtalin

 

(Skype name if you have one):kilteddemon31 

 

True name(MC name):KiltedDemon31 

 

Race: Dark elf

 

Authentic magic user?(accepted magic user?):N/A

 

If so what form of magic ye use?:N/A

 

-snip-

 ((Your true name is your character's name. We don't go by our minecraft usernames on LOTC, please reapply with your proper roleplay name.))

Art pulls his cloak over his head, tilting it observantly, he scratches his chin.

"If her skill at hiding anywhere near akin to that of doing the hunting, she's a dead pyro. Shame."

Art's cloaked form displays no visual expression and he heads back into the wild, still intent not to be found for the time being.

A snow white barn owl returns to Grimaldus.

"It appears you have much to learn, but many do. Your first task is to find Ac'talareh. You'll be given guidance if absolutely necessary. You'll be given the rank of applicant until you prove to be worthy of promotion. Best of luck to you and your endeavors."

Accepted.

-Art

Art seemed oddly docile to the fact his bandana has been removed, perhaps a family thing. Strands of matted brown hair partially cover the long deformity of a scar running the length of his forehead. He stands rigidly on the floor, clearly uncomfortable at the level of contact in this situation, as he always had been. He fails to make eye contact, looking forward and down as Aliss clings to him.

"I...er...Had to do some thinking...On my own..." He says hesitantly. "I would have said hi." He says quickly, a tinge of guilt in his voice. "I might have forgotten you always liked muddy places, Malin knows why..."

Art pulls a cloak further over his head, waiting carefully for Clavonita to leave before daring to take a step forward. He wasn't ready to be re-found, yet.

He takes a few tentative steps forward, tilting his head observantly at the hanging body. He speaks for the first time in nearly a week, a barely audible voice.

"Bloodeagles are like weeds, an always re-sprouting nuisance in which pulling up from the roots can be strangely relaxing..."

After realizing he is monologue-ing to himself, Art quickly paces out the city, before being noticed and losing his rationality.

Art's eye dart to the table where the knife and coil still lie, he quickly diverts his glance back at Aliss, wrinkling the left side of his face uncomfortably. He never did like having his cheek pinched. He stutters out words as he tries to push himself to his feet.

"This is...oh...oh...I had no idea. I was just here to..." Art freezes mid motion, and silences himself, he doesn't say anymore, and hopes Aliss had not picked up on that.

I was banned for with an appeal in two weeks because this rule was not clarified. We've spoken with mau5 and now my appeal date is shortened to one week but for future reference I'm glad this clarification exists at least...

((OH GOD THAT IS ACTUALLY LEGITIMATELY TERRIFYING...))

Art instinctively takes a step back as she lunges for him, eyes widening. The two collide and Art is sent driven to the ground in an aggressive bear hug. He makes an 'oof' as he hits the floor. Art lays there, pinned to the ground. He blinks blankly, it's obvious this elf hasn't seen another living soul in months. Maybe he wanted it that way?

Nevertheless, he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He just lays there in stunned silence.

"H-how did you find me...?" He finally manages.

((Well, if I am told by a GM/admin/Fm to remove it I will, I just didn't think I was doing any harm ._. That said I would appreciate any further posts on this thread to be roleplay please.))

Low and behold the shack is empty, a small fireplace at the back of the room smolders, dying. A slightly rusty pot hangs over it, almost looking depressed at it's misuse. In the corner lies a small nightstand, on it, a knife, and a coil of rope. Someone was obviously here recently.

Footsteps are heard from behind, the heavy trudging of leaves crushing underfoot growing louder and louder.

Art drops his bundle of firewood to the floor, and his mouth gapes open in shock, he blatantly stares at his older sister. Almost to stunned to make a sound.

"No way...You can't be real..." Is all he manages.

((Even in a forum post which won't effect either character in game in any way of note? Ergh. I'll delete this if I have to.))

It was the dead of night, and the streets of Kingston lay dead silent. A light breeze swayed the leaves and branches of the apple tree, and street lamps cast a dim light on the cobblestone paths. From the west gate enters a man, hooded and cloaked from head to toe, he pulls his attire tighter over his person as he enters the city, concealing his identity further.

He had promised himself he would not come back here, not until he had made his decision. A decision he had required to put himself in a state of solitary isolation in order to make.

He had lived in the forest for a month now, away from any place he dared call home. All his time not devoted to keeping himself alive, pondering his question, but tonight, that could wait. Tonight he had something to retrieve.

Elsewhere in Kingston, a child awakens, he rubs his eyes, and looks out the window, the darkness and silence of the streets almost surreal to him, compared to the hustle and bustle of the day. This child had a goal, and was determined to live up to it.

The young one climbs out of bed gingerly, soft socks muffling his steps as he creeps down the stairs. He jumps for the door handle, freezing, as he hears the sound of stirring from upstairs. He tries again, carefully, standing on his tippy toes, and he got it. The child trotted out the door, closing it very gently behind him.

The first few steps out the door, and already he was terrified. Shadows loomed, what was a lamp post by day was a monster by night. Almost immediately the child began to back back into the safety of his home.

The city was empty, and the man walked the main road. His eye's darted from left to right, up and down. Being amongst other sentient beings, sleeping or not, was an experience he had deprived himself of for a long time. And then he saw it.

From a small house on the corner of the street, a single small figure. A child, stepped hesitantly out his door. The man should have known better, after all, he had promised himself: 'Find what you're looking for, and leave. You don't belong here, not until you've made your choice.' But against the will of his mind, he approached the child,

The child had almost grasped back onto his door handle, wanting nothing more than to get back inside, and then he froze. What he saw was a monster. A moving monster, a real monster. Backed against his door wide eyed he stared, unable to move a muscle as the shadowy mass approached him. And he heard the shadow speak. It wasn't a raspy, dark, deep like a monster should have been. This voice was somber, even and quiet.

"Who are you, child?"

The boy didn't want to reply, he wanted to shut his eyes, and wake up back in his bed, and try to forget the nightmare. But the shadow was still looking at him, head tilted, expectant.

"C-Ciaran..." He managed out in a barely audible voice.

"Ciaran?"

"C-Ciaran...C-Ciaran Horen-Hightower."

The man folded his arms in front of him, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, he looked left and right, and turned back to the child, still frozen in place.

"Why have you snuck out, Ciaran?"

Unable to say or do much else, the child thought of nothing but to tell the shadow the truth.

"I-I wanted...to see the secret forest..."

The shadow made a sudden movement, a flash of motion, and the child flinched. Shutting his eyes as tight as he could. A second passed, two seconds, he gathered the courage to look up. The man was no longer a shadow, his cloak was gone. And in it's place was a face, watching him with a calm, weather worn expression. A tint of red adorned his forehead, his hand was extended to the child.

"Well? Come on then."

"W-what...?"

"You wanted to see a secret forest, didn't you? Come on, let's go."

A while later, and the pair had left the city, a breeze blew against them as they walked up the north road. Ciaran shivered, and soon found himself wrapped up in the man's cloak, he clung to it like a blanket.

As they crossed the bridge leading to the Thersist checkpoint, a wolf howled. An eerie, foreboding sound. The child clung to his new found friend, terrified once more.

The man gently pried away the child's rigid arms, he lifted the child by the waist and placed him on the bridge, an inch in front of him, giving him a stern look.

"Do you know what inspires the greatest fear in us all, child?"

"N-no..."

"Your mind. Your mind has the ability to make you believe things, make you terrified of anything you could possibly imagine up. Do you let your mind control you, child?"

Ciaran shook his head helplessly, not understanding much.

"N-no...I-I don't..."

The man smiled once more.

"Execellent, let's keep going then, shall we? We have a ways to go yet."

Ciaran swallowed, and pushed on, always clinging to the man. Always trying to ignore the monsters and beast he was sure lurked in the shadows of the trees around him.

The pair did not stop at Malinor, they went further onward. Eventually, the trees around them thickened, shrubbery grew more and more out of the ground, and they were in the wilderness. An untamed forest, no paths, no organization. Just wilderness.

An owl hooted, the wolves continued to howl, a snake slithered in and out from a bush, and the swaying of leaves in the night wind was ever present. Ciaran shut his eyes as tight as he could, clinging on to the man's leg for dear life. He was certain he was going to die here, he would be eaten up, the shadows would swallow him. And so his eyes remained shut, and he prayed once again to the creator for it to all be a bad dream. He would wake up in his bed, and he would apologize to his sister for ever wanted to do something as foolish as leave his home.

"Child, open your eyes."

Ciaran only shut his eyes tighter. The idea was unthinkable. He couldn't open his eyes. He would be eaten.

"Child." The man said again, his voice soft, but stern. "Open your eyes."

Once again, Ciaran's eyes remained shut, and his body rigid.

"Do you let your mind control you?"

Ciaran had thought about that question. Did he let his mind control him? What did that mean? And there, in the wildest part of Anthos, beside the mysterious man, he understood.

The child opened his eyes, and he didn't see monsters, he didn't see shadows, and he wasn't scared. Ciaran saw a forest. Trees growing up to the sky, leaves, flowers and berries of every colour, insects and animals going about their business, under the moonlight of the night sky.

Ciaran gazed around in wonder, and Artimec Akkaris smiled.

"Welcome to the secret forest, child."

The sun had just begun to rise when the two had arrived back in Kingston. Merchants had begun to stock their stalls, few people walked the streets. The day was about to begin. Ciaran lay asleep in Art's arms, it had been a long night after all. Together they walked back into his home, and Art lay Ciaran back down in his bed, just as the child's eyes blinked awake.

Art had no final words to say or a moral to live by to preach.

"Tell Kaila I said hi, alright?" He asked simply, and walked quietly out the door, not waking a soul.

((Both Art and Ciaran are my characters, I had nothing better to do, so I wrote an RP post with the two of them interacting.))

((Sold. Making a high elf...Er, maybe.))

Art had not seen another soul for nearly a month, wandering forests of what had once belonged to Malin. Chance behold he had stumbled across the forests nearing Hanseti, and by extension the Dreadfort.

He blinked at the sight of smoke. The sight was odd to him, having not seen such a thing since putting himself in his own solitary isolation. And yet, he managed a smile. He walked further back into the woods, wouldn't want to be discovered after all. But he seemed to be in a much lighter mood.

A million +1's

Shambo is a very good roleplayer.

"I have plans to put in motion." He told Polgrath and Hera.

"I have loose ends to tie up." He told Kaila in her clinic.

"I'll come back to you." He said simply, to Clavonita.

"Stay safe, I will return." He had told, to all who would notice his absence.

And an absence it was. A day later Artimec Akkaris was nowhere to be seen, the halls of Ac'talareh of where he would so often stride around were devoid of his presence. His roll of medical supplies, untouched, and still on the counter of the Salvian clinic. By all accounts, the elf had dissapeared.

In the depths of the Elven forests, far from Malinor, one might notice a dim fire, and a shadow hunched over it. The shadow doesn't speak, nor move.

Not a word was sent to anyone, and those who cared were left to rely only on his word.

"Stay safe, I will return."

Art had yet to fail in delivering on such a promise.

This is actually, pretty good! I would love to see this implemented.

One thing though. For each plant, do different amounts consumed result in different effects? That's what I want to know. Otherwise I think this is very nicely done, and I'd love to use these in my roleplay.

Art wanders into the bakery, footsteps soft. He slides himself into a seat next to Clavonita, not saying a word. He cranes his head over her shoulder.

"We put a fence around that thing for a reason, you know." He says, a hint of a humourous tone pervading in his voice. His expression then turns softer, and more serious.

"Often when I live in troubled times, and when my mind is plagued, I like to put focus on one thing, a beacon of hope. Something or someone to hold on to to keep myself from going mad. Know what I mean?"

"Time to call in your friends and finish the job, Salvus."

Art crosses his arms, and strides back back across the mountains.

LeoWarrior14

Iron VIP

Was doing nothing better tham doing something? Pondering would have been dwelling and Art had already figured out that act would drive him mad.

Meanwhile, Ciaran toddles along, never far from Kaila's side, abstaining his young curious self from asking about the funny new markings on kai's forehead.

Art thinks it's high time the Dwarves steps in due to that fact that the bloodpack has not only been broken by the blackmonts, it's been snapped into tiny little pieces and stomped out of recognition. But hey, what does he know about politics?

There is not a quiet moment to be had. Spiders swarm, the apparition drives mad, an unfortunate recent incursion by some rather stupid knights resulted in a couple of dead roses the other day. And yet, on top of all that, what was most disturbing was that there were external forces watching at all times.

Art already had a necromancer hounding him. He would pop into his mind from time to time, coerce Art, threaten him, anything to break him, and although he would admit this to no one the Necromancer may have been dangerously close to succeeding. But it was not just that.

Monsters poured into the ruins, seemingly out of nowhere, from walls the Delvers had ensured were sealed. Notes from nowhere dropped from the sky, no carrier bird in sight, carrying cryptic messages.

"The worst is yet to come."

Art was convinced. Someone was toying with them, and it was likely more than a single practitioner of dark arts. He sits down at his desk, shadows dancing across his weary face. This was the calm before the storm.