justDEWit

Origins of Aemineus The dark-skinned fellow strode throughout the streets of the small human city Efaelun, gripping a yellowing piece of paper tightly in his right hand. His twin swords clanked at his left hip as the grimoire held by chains rattled alongside them. He glanced around at the nearby shops, only to see windows slamming shut while small, inquisitive eyes peered out at him. His expression didn’t change, he was used to these kinds of things- discrimination, isolation- he’s lived under these conditions most of his life. His leather boots padded lightly against the stone road just as he stopped before the blacksmith’s shop. He brought his hand to the handle to open it, although he found that it was locked. He called out to whomever was inside with his gruff, scratchy voice, “I saw you put up a bounty. Here to help with that.” Hearing these words, the blacksmith responded in an feminine tone, “Alroigh’. Openin’ up.” After opening a rather overwhelming amount of locks over the course of two or so minutes, the door creaked open to reveal a scruffy, fair-skinned woman with ginger hair holding a hammer at the ready. “You the one that put up the poster?” Said the bounty hunter, holding up the yellowing poster before her face. She scoffed at such a movement, though she read it and it said: Missing Husband - Retrieval Mission My husband has gone missing after he went looking for more resources for the smithy. Come to the local blacksmith for more information if you’re looking to further pursue this case. Reward can be discussed in person. “Yes, it was me, lad. Who’re you?” She gestured him in with a wave of her calloused fingers, moving towards the anvil. “Aemineus. Aspiring Marked Man. And the guy who’s going to bring your husband back.” At this, she plopped down on the anvil’s seemingly flat surface, letting out a sigh of despair, “Ya not even ah Marked Man?! Why shoul’ ah even give teh job teh you?!” Aemineus pulled up a solitary chair that was placed in a solitary position in the middle of the room, placing his buttocks upon it, saying, “Because I’m the only person whose willing to take up this job at the moment. Everyone else in this sorry hamlet is scared of a stranger.” The fire in the large hearth behind her burned with an everlasting intensity, allowing light to flood into the rest of the miniscule room. She ‘harrumphed’, a light shake of her head signalling her disapproval, though she said, “Foine. He wen’ ou’ to teh fores’s just west o’ ‘ere to gather some ma’erials fer deh forge. Some elves ‘ave been wanderin’ teh land recen’ly… ah told ‘im to nae go alone bu’ he sai’ we were runnin’ ou’ o’ stuff fer deh smithy.” After a few moments of silence, Aemineus asked, “And he went alone, without any weapons on him? Is there anything I can identify him with?” She responded, “Aye, ‘e wen’ alone. ‘E always carried ‘is amule’ on ‘im, golden ‘n always gleamin’ in teh sunloigh’. ‘E took ah steel shor’sword with ‘im too.” Abruptly, Aemineus stood to his feet, rolling up the piece of parchment before placing it somewhere on his person. After a clearing of the throat, he asked her, “How long has he been gone?” “Abou’ two days.” And, with the nod of the head, the bounty hunter started to move from the home. A few paces in, he swiveled back on his heel, telling her, “I’ll need two new blades when I get back. Longswords. One of steel and the other of aurum.” He said this in a rather demanding, mistrusting tone as he placed his hand lightly on the bronze handle of the wooden door. Just as he creaked it open, he assured her with words of compassion, saying, “I’ll bring him back. Don’t worry.” He moved outside and the frigid air hit him like an Orc, causing his body to shiver lightly at the touch of it. Aemineus shut the door behind him, quickly moving towards the inn. He glanced from side to side once more, the final lanterns finally being blown out in most of the homes. The door to the tavern was suddenly kicked in, slamming against the wall to create a sound loud enough to create an echo throughout the town. As he entered, he noticed that the pub was strangely… empty- there was nearly no one there, save the bartender and the serving girl that seemed overly excited at his entry. They were seated just to the right of the hearth, which had lost all intensity it ever seemed to have, filled with ash and unburned logs. They both rised in unsettling synchronization, at the same time uttering, “Welcome to... Dead Lodgings!” Aemineus quickly slammed the door back behind him, though he continued to shiver visibly as the shabby windows and the condition of the door did next to nothing to stop the biting winds from flooding inside. “Fits the name.” he said, moving towards them at a gradual pace as he then asked, “Got any room for a broke man here?” At this question, the bar owner (presumably) promptly picked up his metal cup and threw it at Aemineus’ face. The bounty hunter easily smacked it away, where it clattered to the floor somewhere on the right side of the room. The barmaiden said, “Ain’t nae room fer a broke feller loike yerself. We barely eve’ tole’ate’ yer ski’ ‘round these par’s, lad.” At this, Aemineus offered no reaction but a ball of saliva flying from his opened mouth flying towards them, moving to turn and pace out of the tavern. He slammed the door behind him in an act of aggression, drawing forth a yell from the man inside. He padded towards an alleyway betwixt two of the small buildings, laying his tired body there. The cold kept him up for the longest of times, though eventually he managed to drift into a sleeping state. As light broke the surface of the horizon, the wanna-be Marked Man found himself awake. He sat up and looked about the alleyway and, as expected, nothing of significance had changed. However, there was a broken mirror near the back, and he went to pick up one of the more sizable pieces and lift it up to his face. His visible skin was as brown as ever, probably even darker from the amount of sun basking he did as of yesterday. His eyes were still a beautiful hazel color and his hair remained a charcoal black- he gladly noted that there were no gray hairs poking out. There were no scars and he generally seemed healthy all-around. As he continued to admire himself in the glass shard, his ears noticed a distinct ‘clink’ sound from somewhere near him. He turned the mirror ever so slightly to his left and saw that, at the entrance to the alleyway, there was a figure creeping toward him. They were small and had a head full of hair, though the rest of them was shrouded by the shadows of the buildings. “**** off,” He demanded, loud and clear, to the sneaking person. At this, they stopped in their tracks and slowly stood to their full height, which wasn’t very tall, only about four feet and eleven inches at the most. “Ah cannae do tha’, ser,” the child-like voice said as Aemineus turned to look at whoever they were, only to find a little child, assumedly an orphan. They were, as everyone else in this town was, scruffed up and quite dirty. He wore clothes that were obviously stolen, oversized and torn. His hair was a mix between a light brown and blonde- dirty blonde- as one might call it, and his body bordered on being unhealthily ectomorphic. “Ye look loike ye ‘ave moneh. Moneh tha’ ah nee’,” the kid exclaimed, his young hands clenching and unclenching as if he were ready to ****** something. Aemineus sneered, saying, “If I had money, lad, would I be sleeping in this alleyway?” There was a long, strange pause as the child mulled over what had just been said. The orphan’s hands moved up to his face as he started to wail like a baby, his face contorting in an ugly manner underneath them. Aemineus let him cry for a few more moments, though he felt a if he had to do something to comfort the child. He took a few steps closer to the orphan, moving to place his gauntleted hand lightly atop his head and rub it in an inelegant way, asking, “Where’s your parents, kid?” And the orphan said, “M-Moma is dead. And papa left a long time ago. I’m all al-” Suddenly, the kid laughed evilly as his small hands found the hilt of Aemineus’ ferrum blade. He tugged it free with all of his might, stumbling back as the bounty hunter tried to ****** his shirt up. The kid bolted from the alleyway and down the road, laughing loudly all the way as he exclaimed, “This’ll fetch ah noice price on teh marke’!” Aemineus took after him, though naturally he was slower due to the weight of all his equipment on his form. The town, which had been devoid of anyone when he arrived yesterday, was now filled to the brim with people. They were all notably members of the lower class- peasants, poor merchants and beggars. Every so often, there was an armored fellow, though they seemed as if they were members of an organized military force that was stationed nearby, not wanderers seeking shelter. Aemineus continued to rush through the hordes of people, pushing some aside as he spotted the kid making a hard right into another alley. He followed him, only to realize that the kid had led him into a rather obvious trap. In this place there were a group of homeless fellows, fists clenched as they looked towards the armored newcomer. There were at least five of them and they were willing to do what they could to survive in this town. Aemineus’ hand instinctively fell to the hilt of his aurum blade, starting to pull it from his sheath, though it had stopped. He couldn’t betray the code, even if he wasn’t a Marked Man yet. These people were not monsters, they were just doing what they had to do to survive. And so, remembering this, he brought both hands in front of his face, taking up a defensive stance as they started to rush towards him. The first one ran at him, leaping towards him as he brung his fist in a wide, diagonal arc towards Aemineus’ left temple. The bountyman took a singular, large step forth, his own clenched hand slamming into the core of the fellow. He coughed up some saliva, falling to the ground as he clutched his stomach- Aemineus found little time to revel in his defeat, however, as his head jerked forward. The impact did not force him to stumble, for the one who did it was too feeble- he whipped his body around, his flat palm smacking the face of the poor beggar that hit him. In his anger, Aemineus tightly grasped the torn tunic of the fellow with both hands and brung him up into the air above his head. Letting out a monstrous yell of pure malice, Aemineus smashed the head of the beggar down into the dirt ground beneath him. As the cranium of the man made contact with the ground, a loud crack was emitted, making everyone halt in their tracks. His breaths came out of his open mouth in hefty amounts as the world seemed to pause. He let go of the beggar’s body, the corpse flopping to the ground in a puddle of mud. Aemineus slothfully backed away from it, his wild eyes glancing from the body to the beggars whom were in shock at what just happened. A feminine voice came from the back of the group, calling out, “My babe!” A lady in somewhat better clothing than the rest had pushed the men aside, falling to her knees beside the body. He looked down at the ground, his face returning to its typical, bothered state as his chipped and worn ferrum sword was thrown at his feet. “GE’ OU’! LEAVE US,” the lady yelled at him, her voice cracking as tears flowed freely from her eyes. As he picked up his sword and sheathed it once again, Aemineus noticed something about the beggar-made-corpse. It was simply an older looking version of the orphan that stole his sword earlier, though even skinnier than he was. He could tell that the kid was approximately fifteen years of age and that he was obviously lacking sustenance most of his life. “I… uh… I’m sorry,” Aemineus said to the group, moving to shakily depart from the alley. However, as he reached its entrance, there had been a crowd that gathered to see what was happening and, soon, three guards bursted through to see the result of the brawl. “Ge’ ‘im,” one of them commanded to the two others, and they easily apprehended him via tightly taking hold of either of his arms. Aemineus offered no resistance to the men, for he knew what he had done- the rest of the village would soon know it too. After his hands were tied up expertly by the guardsmen, they led him through the streets until they reached a high-standing building on the outskirts of the town. It was in better condition than the rest of the town and many loud noises could be heard from inside. They stripped Aemineus down and gave him some ragged clothes that barely fit then threw him in a cell. Within this cell, there was no bed and instead, a singular bench to either sit or sleep upon. There was hay inside to serve as a bit of padding for the ground and, in the corner next to the window, a cell partner. In the other corner, there was a wooden bucket and a stench that could burn the nostril hairs of any regular man. “Enjoy ye fockin’ stay ‘ere, degenerate. Yer fate’ll be decoided by ‘morrow,” the guardsman said, spitting at Aemineus. Aemineus dragged himself towards the hay bed, moving to roll over and onto his side so that he faced the wall. The guy sitting idly next to the window spoke up after the guard left, “Oi, lad.” The bounty man responded, aggressively, “**** off. I don’t want to talk.” His cell partner grunted, and then all went silent as the sun fell below the horizon and the sky became illuminated by the moon. As they both descended into slumber, all Aemineus could think of was: How the **** did everything go this bad?

how does it feel to be Austrailian

Just for when you're doing skins again.

shiiiiiiiiiiiiid i was finna hit you up until i saw that real life money had to be paid. i'm broke as hell

damn, why yall getting on the homie like this? yeah sure his 'rap' was a straight-up miss, but he doesn't deserve all this heat for just one post. I repeat, this man does not need all these roasts he was trying to write a rhyme because he was bored and wanted to pass the time. okay, I admit it was kinda trash but gah damn yall ain't even gotta bash

This is my story submission for the ET Writing Contest! WARNING: THE FORMATTING ABOVE IS ABSOLUTE ASS, CLICK ON THE GOOGLE DOC LINK FOR A BETTER LOOKING STORY. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1sYhnu2aaML1Y55qx-mOsmhG7vppqr87biadIYeaXJAQ/edit?usp=sharing

As Ravondir reads the piece of parchment, he states, "Huh. Damn pamphlets."

that's a good solution but i doubt anyone is going to do that i will consider doing that, nice idea; 1 Ascended/Cleric and 2-4 regular peeps could do something like that

I totally understand your point, i really do but when someone waltzes up to us and informs us about the local necromancer literally raising bodies of their families from the ground, the **** you expect us to do? Tell them to **** off and deny their request to help???

Ravondir clapped his hands together after reading such, lips smacking as he looked it over again. He took in a deep sigh before beginning his rant, "Y'know, we tried that once. The world misunderstood, a uninformed Ascended wrote a pamphlet, and we were assaulted by the Descendants for our attempt at aiding the Dark. We were forced to our outright purging of the Dark. I cannot speak for the others, but that is what happened to the Ascended. We've made our mistakes, undeniably huge mistakes that cost lives, and I understand the flak we've received for it. However, you cannot tell me that the 'Old Dark' and the Xionists are less of a threat than those of the Light. There is a band of dark ilk that prowl the land, swiping up people off of the streets like old fairytales. I have been attacked by the likes of the Xionists many-a-time for the fact that I am what I am, and our retaliation is shown through our battles. You cannot, and will make us out to be the villains when I see people dead or injured due to forces of the Dark. I see that Necromancy can be utilized to heal someone literally torn in half, but where do they get these Necromancers get their fuel from? The Darkstalkers, Liches and Morghuuls that endlessly hunger for lifeforce- where do they get their fix? On the Ascended's behalf, I say we attempted to aid you once, but experiences with the Descendants have forced us to do otherwise. But I'm just some old fart that's barely been around... what say do I have in the matter?"

"Sounds like ******* heresy to me," stated Ravondir.

OOOOOOOO FIRST

guess i'll have to gET RICH

my eyes and head hurt from reADING SO MUCH

*grinds the day away instead of providing RP on a server made for roleplay*

thank you for understanding sir, i just had my holy man concerns and had to type them out thanks for taking the time out of your day to respond

sorry sir, i just found it slightly silly because this voidal man that was 'touched' and transformed by the Void can be corrupted by some random necromancer/shade out in some dark city alleyway i mean i know some archons are on the spoopy side so they're not really neutral but i simply think that the mental instability was enough without the DA corruption also i'm just a biased holy man so y'know

wait I thought that Archons were supposed to be neutral what

oh man it's blood magic this is some spoopy stuff sir

I mean unless you're incompetent and literally take a Ruinous Soulfire torrent to the face then it's not a one-hit kill, but check out the lore man and what the hell "go through walls" tfw

why does it make you salty it's not even aa one hit kill anymore and we tried all living in the same keep once and allying but all of our agendas (aengul goals) were different so we chose to split apart for the better

why do you think that the original holy order should suddenly be gone