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A day in the life of...

Posted: Mon Feb 10, 2014 5:25 pm
by Drayn
A challenge! A short creative writing story that portrays your character going about some day to day task or hunting trip. Describe it nice and creatively and feel free to embellish the details a little, though don't describe actions of other player characters that they blatantly wouldn't do, cos that's just impolite.

Re: A day in the life of...

Posted: Mon Feb 10, 2014 6:21 pm
by Drayn
DRAYN stepped out of the city gates, the beat of his rod joining the gentle clicking of his wooden sandals in a rather pleasing little rhythm. The evergreen woods beckoned him, the sweet scent of pine being a welcome change to the thick musk of incense in the sanctum. It had been days since he'd last gotten out of the city. Paperwork had steadily piled up on his desk, reports from the clergy and it's allies, correspondence from foreign dignitaries and that one elven noble who thought he had nothing better to do than settle yet another petty dispute they'd gotten themselves into. Just as soon as he could see the polished mahogany, an initiate would cautiously approach with another stack of letters and an apologetic smile.

Today, however, Drayn had decided he was getting out rather than going mad. As the archbishop passed the guards, Shansori greeted him with a smile and a bow "Nice to see you Father Archbishop, I trust you are well?"
Drayn nodded with his customary smile, "I'm not doing too badly" he replied with feigned jollity. In fact his muscles were still very stiff from the last death he had suffered. All the paperwork had kept him from exercise. Having exchanged the latest news with the guard, he strode off along the road, glad of the change of scenery.

Taking a deep breath and loosing the cork on his skin, Drayn repeated the prayers that were as well known to him as his own name, spreading water around the flagstones of the road before striking down firmly with his rod, a dull thud sending a faint blue glow running through the ground as Taniel's power was infused into the ground.

A flock of birds breaking cover broke the trance like concentration of the cleric as he went about his blessings. Something was wrong. The woods had grown still. Instinctively, Drayn whispered a quiet prayer, causing the fabric of his vestments to stiffen, like leather and a further chant to summon a refreshing breeze. He stood and listened in the silence, the quiet susurration of of the leaves the only noise.

Suddenly, a long black form streaked its way through the air, arcing towards him. Quickly stepping aside, the javelin clattered on the roadside. It's design was recognisable instantly.

Grabbing his pendant he sent his thoughts to the rest of the clergy; "A RAID! Sound the alarm!" and before he could even begin another prayer, screaming figures broke from the cover of the forest and streaked towards him. Taking a firm grasp of his rod and bringing it in a wide arc, he struck out at the closest darkelf, smacking it across the side of its head with a satisfying cracking noise, but three more advanced, stepping over their fallen comrade.

The next few moments were a blur of steel, a montage of screams, shouts as Drayn parried the lethal attacks. He was a good distance from the city, turning to run would just give them the option to shoot him in the back, hopefully backup would arrive soon. Already he could hear the dull tone of the cathedral bell reverberating in the distance, urgently calling the cities defenders to arms.

"Infidels! You dare attack the City of His people? Face His Wrath!" yelled Drayn, amongst the cackles and whooping of his assailants. He could feel the divine fire burn brighter inside himself as he intoned the ancient prayer. The power blossomed, filling every sinew of his body before erupting from his eyes in pure brilliant energy. Arcs of lightning crackled around the forest, a storm with the priest at its centre. The wind howled and the raiders screamed as the displeasure of Taniel was unleashed upon them.

Drayn didn't waste time, as his assailants gathered their senses, he rushed the closest of them, bringing his knee swiftly to their groin. Turning to the next Drayn brought his rod high over his head to slam down on the next raider, but suddenly there was an agonising sensation as a crossbow bolt ripped through his shoulder. Blood spattered from the wound and he could see a sticky black ichor dripping from the bolt...poison. Recovering, he proceeded to smash the rod down, sending another dark elf to the hereafter, their soul pulling free of their body before a light in a small pouch hung on his belt brought it howling back, trapped in the small gem.

The poison was flowing quickly and two of them were still on their feet. Every movement was agonising as his muscles burned. The dark elves were playing for time. The poison was doing their work for them. Stumbling, Drayn fell to his knees, struggling to stay upright. He began the prayer to have Taniel pull the toxin from him, but already his mind was clouded. The dark elf that was as yet uninjured grinned and loaded another bolt, sauntering over to the wounded priest and pressing the bolt to his forehead.

"Looks like Taniel's abandoned you half blood!" came the sneering taunt in broken Quenya.

"Taniel is ever with me" replied Drayn defiantly, to the apparent amusement of the raiders. His tormentor leaned in close "Darkness will prevail". Drayn closed his eyes and waited for the cold bolt to end another life, hopeful that Taniel would return him to service once more.

The last moment seemed to stretch on forever until at last a whistling noise and the feeling of something flicking against the side of his hood caused him to open his eyes. The dark elf stood in front of him, his expression one of puzzlement and a long elvish arrow embedded in his chest. He fell to the floor and Drayn joined him, the poison making it impossible to remain upright or conscious. The last sensations were the panicked scream of the remaining dark elf and the swirl of a deep, forest green cloak as a strong arm lifted him up and began dragging him back to the city.

When the world returned, Drayn found himself staring up at the face of Luthien who smiled relieved. "Welcome back, Father, you had us worried for a while, no no, just rest." she commanded softly
"The raid" murmured Drayn. Luthien nodded.
"The city militia and the rangers have everything well in hand. It's lucky one of their patrols was close when you called. You were near death when they found you."
Drayn nodded thankfully and lay back into the cot he was laid in. "They make a habit of saving my life" he managed to say with a coughing chuckle, before allowing himself to sleep.

Re: A day in the life of...

Posted: Tue Feb 11, 2014 4:38 am
by luminier
Damn, Drayn took down two baddies before falling? That's got to be a new record.

Re: A day in the life of...

Posted: Tue Feb 11, 2014 12:03 pm
by Drayn
Mind this is a fiction rather than an account of what actually happened :D It's intended purely for entertainment.

Re: A day in the life of...

Posted: Tue Feb 11, 2014 2:50 pm
by Skragna
BLOOD, bile, and worse puddled at the feet of the massive, armored tshahark, as his axe sang through the air, ringing loudly as the weapon parried another of its kind. Grinning to himself under the face-masking helmet, the warrior spun his axe around in a deft motion, countering the blow, and splitting his foe, a burly, one-eared halforc, from collarbone to the opposite armpit. Sliding the tremendous weapon into his belt, the tshahark removed his helmet for but a moment, picking at a scale torn loose by a vicious headbutt earlier, and revealing himself as Skragna Malketh. Even now, so many years later, the thrill of blood, fury, and battle sang its siren song, seducing him toward more, and greater, acts of ferocity... and barbarity. With a deep sigh, he pushed the feeling away, leaning against a nearby wall in the old, half-abandoned house, and beginning to bind his various hurts.

After ensuring he wasn't going to bleed to death, he reached up, gently touching the cross at his neck, a physical symbol of his faith in the two Good Gods, and called upon them for a boon. Some in the Crusade likened their abilities to the miracles of clerics, but Skragna... he knew differently. There was, to be certain, magic in them, but more than that, it was a reflection, a power from within themselves, that allowed the abilities to manifest. The Lord and Lady only granted them the power to use their own faith as the, for lack of a better term, torch. The stronger the faith, Skragna had found, the stronger a Crusader's abilities. Looking down, he fingered the cross, then, releasing it, looked at the emblems emblazoned on the warg hide it was made from. The arrow, and the tree. Taniel and Evren. Order and Nature. Light and Life. He wasn't the smartest creature around, and knew it, but his mind was sharper than most of his kin, and he saw, in the pair, a number of similarities. In nature, there was order, of a sort. The best wolf led the pack. Not necessarily the strongest, for a cunning wolf could also become the alpha. The best rabbits survived. Not necessarily the fleetest of foot, for nothing could outrun a hunter's arrow. Sometimes wiles were required. Order, in something as seemingly chaotic as nature. Perhaps not perfect order, as Taniel would like, but order still. He wondered to himself if he could possibly manage to reconcile his own opposing sides. The raw, seething fury of his youth, never far below the surface, and the deeper, equally strong desire to protect those unable to do so themselves. That, however, was something he couldn't figure out himself. With a mental shrug, he rose to his feet, drew his axe, and moved on, deeper into the ancient house.

Re: A day in the life of...

Posted: Tue Feb 11, 2014 9:10 pm
by luminier
"Not so quickly, Lord Marshall." a young Esquire formally spoke as he led the old man through the grand cold stone walls of the keep.

The old man gripped his wooden spear in his right hand to use as he walked and nodded formally to the pup as he pushed the large oaken door to the leader room open.

Each step was a gift from above he knew.

His boots made a distinctive and familiar clopping sound over the floors that had been meticulously cleaned by those Squires hoping to gain his favour. Both belts we're sprung open and they crashed to the ground with the weapons they held. A helmet and chainmail were slowly removed with some help of the Esquire and his tired bones creaked. He winced and gritted his teeth as he raised his arms above his head.

"Long day." groaned the man. "The undead advance is never ending and yet I will end, some kind of cruel jape."

The esquire seemed caught off guard by the remark. "W-well sir, you certainly did your best."

The man chuckled and gave the knight-in-training a smirk. "Oh, and is my best good enough? If I do my best will the undead stop? When I die, burn me so I do not come back as one of them. Bah." He stopped for a breath and a heavy cough.

Blood soaked through his leather shirt and tunic.

Luminier looked down at his chest as the knife of the young man relieved the clothes damp with fresh crimson.

"Remember pup, your best is never good enough". It was all he could do to not fall to his knees in pain as the leather was removed from his body. He stood there in the cold, naked chest, moonlight streaming through the high windows of the keep.

An elf, Luzgar, burst in through the large oaken doors. "By the gods!"

"Quiet you fool priest, I don't need everyone in the castle to hear of this failure." Luminier barked.

"Your holiness." The esquire interjected "The Marshall has taken some serious wounds this time, I had just found him in the forest riding his unicorn barely conscious."

Luzgar furrowed his brow and walked to face the old man. "Wars are not fought at won at the efforts of one person, Luminier" he chastised "you are fighting a losing battle against yourself and them. You are one of our greatest warriors but you cannot face the power of a god alone and expect to win."

Luminier raised the eyebrow of his working eye averting his gaze from the priest to the moonlight above. The window was stain glass with a wonderful depiction of the Lord Taniel and the Lady Evren. The room became darker slowly from all around him and the window fell upward out of his vision. Voices shouted something he couldn't quite make out. The room became black and he muttered.

"What did he say?" the frightened Esquire blurted as he assisted Luzgar in holding the heavy bleeding man.

Luzgar grunted "Just watch me."

Re: A day in the life of...

Posted: Wed Feb 12, 2014 1:07 pm
by Zehren
Waking after noon from the previous night's exertion, a lone figure leaves the ever open doors of the Golden Dragon inn and makes its way along the Dragon Road. The figure might have been a human boy, were it not for the unusual attire and facial hair. Lifting his arms up in front of his head to make his way through the winds that assail the coast city of Arborea, the figure takes the Harmony Road north before turning onto the Victory Road until it stands firmly in the middle of two buildings each bearing a sign. The southern sign reads, in crude letters: "The Arborea Lockers Service Facility". The northern sign bears an engraving of a book with a crossed feather and scroll upon it, the single word 'scribes' set beneath.

Were it winter, the figure would remove a thick robe once he stood inside the oval entrance hall to the north - but it isn't. The figure walks in, past walls paneled with polished black woolds, mirrors and mosaiced floors, eventually entering a smaller room with walls covered in silken tapestries of books and scrolls. There are no tapestries of historic battles, nor major historical events in the Bureau of scribes. They all know such things are better recorded in books than in vague weavings where they would be later left to others' imaginations. A plump elf sits behind a table, looking up as the small figure enters. "Principal" the elf says, nodding towards the smaller figure, refering him with the highest title amongst the scribes. A faint smile plays on the elf's lips - he knows the principal is not fond of formal pleasantries. "Clerk Elrain..." the principal replies - his speech is slow. Tired. The pattern would have fit perfectly were he an old human man. But he isn't, and his voice further ruins the impression - bright and melodic, brighter than that of most human women. The principal emits a small sigh - he knows the clerk knows he isn't fond of formal pleasantries and yet chose to start off with a round of exactly that.

"Any enquiries?" the principal says, lifting one eyebrow expertly. The elf dips his head, recognising the sigh as the limits of the principal's patience this day, and follows the currently preferred systems. "One. Human male. Young. Left screaming obscenities shortly after I told him your requirements." The principal's lips tighen against each other. "So none. Enquiries by non-material are not enquiries." Elrain accepts the reprimand with a nod. Entering the next room, which branches off to the west, the principal greets the lone guard standing there, and pauses just long enough to see if there are any new notes on the board, before opening another door and stepping into the library.

"Bimtha." "Welcome Principal." The black-haired, grey-eyed librarian greets the principal with a smile. "Do you..." "I have prepared the books for you upstairs, Principal." Nodding his thanks, the principal slowly climbs the stairs, settling in front of a small desk, a stack of books, parchments, feathers and pots of ink readied for him.

The principal begins his work in solitude: reading, writing, copying, repairing... taking time inbetween tasks to write large calligraphic practise runes on otherwise empty parchments.

He falls asleep at his desk, awakened hours later by Bimtha gently shaking his shoulder.