Sword of Dawn, Hammer of Twilight (Setting, RP, etc)

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Sword of Dawn, Hammer of Twilight (Setting, RP, etc)

Postby Dorin » Thu Jan 24, 2008 2:47 pm

...in those elder days, when the gods retired from the mortal word, and left behind the wisdom for their children to rule, that which had been controlled for ages by divine hand was given the seeds of entropy. All that was, would soon begin to rot and decay. Only scattered promises by the divine, fragments of light in an ever darkening world, were immutable and incapable of being twisted by the new, scorching wind that blew across the face of the earth. Forever more, it would be the hands of men that would influence the flow of destiny, and through men would come the ultimate deliverence into darkness eternal...

-From The Fallen Stone, Nineth Canticle


Once were the gods those beings that tred the mortal world, stirring the endless seas with their power, churning forth the forth and waves to create the land upon which we walk. From them came the breath of life in all that was, is, and shall be. Under their protecting hand, forever did we walk in light and peace. There were no faults to occur, nothing to fear from things dark and unknown. Yet, in mortal things was born vanity, from which came the downfall of the beauty and harmony which was produced from the god's toil. It was from the hand of a mortal that the blackness of deep evil sank into the world. The poison spreading deep into the very bones of the world, and corrupting all hearts.

War between the gods and forces from beyond the protective veil of their influence was inevitable. The darkness was driven back, but it was to forever endure. The gods, with their masterpiece ruined, were left no choice but to flee the mortal realm. Taking with them sparks of untainted good and perfection, to serve as beacons of light and hope for others. Those left behind were to pay homage to the gods, but would be in their own devices. Their fates were based on their own choices. Each now bearing the seeds of evil and malcontent, from the shadows the forces of dark and evil leered. Theirs was now the chance to take the world.

That chance was found in the mortal wizard Tergeen. Who submitted himself as a disciple of things alien and foul. Gainging knowledge of black magicks and twisted sorceries, he created bent and mutated things to serve as soldieries in an army of horror. Unleashed upon the world, a great many lands fell to his grip. It seemed all the world would topple to his wicked rule.

Yet, the gods did not abandon their progeny. Great Filhar, the Sun God, Father of Gods, Lord of Justice, gave to a faithful servant the means of fighting this evil. Many were the years of blood and struggle, but at long last Tergeen was overthrown. His armies scattered, and now left to haunt those fortresses they once held.

The world was left in the grip of a dark age, trying to rebuild a world ravaged by the forces of powers unknowable.
-From The Twisting Road, Light Beyond the Shadow


The continent of Al'roc, the bastion of light amidst a world still savage and undiscovered. In truth, merely the core of civilization as it is understood by we ignorant retches. A massive land, filled with creatures beyond counting. Many are its denizens, varied are its environs, and seemingly infinite are the number of possible outcomes for each person. Be it slave or king, dirt farm or empire. The one thing that is knowable by all, Fate and Destiny are little more than archaic concepts of superstitious rabble. It is the choices of those people who walk the earth that shape its present and future; through our choices and actions do we guide the river of time. As little impact as most make, it is still in the hands of men how these things are driven.

In the present moment, as with no other time experienced before, is the hand of mortal more capable of change. Legends recount that Lord Lodis, the great paladin of Filhar, struck down Tergeen centuries ago and darkness was suddenly banished by light. In truth, the dark wizard's body was cut down, but his spirit endured to maintain an even tighter of his empire. His face slipped from the world, but in its shadows he gained ever more influence and control. The studious scholar knows of Turgeen the wizard, but only the truly wise man knows of Turgeen the liche. The blackened spirit of the foul man, which was only a decade past destroyed in a magical cataclysm somewhere to the north.

On the surface, it seems no different to the casual observer. Wars are fought over the same strips of contested land. Would be conquerors rise and fall. And all about, the world simple turns on. However, those past wars and conflicts, upon closer inspection, were carefully guided plays in a much grander game; the ultimate conclusion of which may not have seen completion for many ages of Men yet to come. Even the wisest mind cannot completely grasp what Turgeen was set out to accomplish, but there was a guiding hand in all major plots. Everything moved to some grander tune which only the liche could hear, much less comprehend.

The past ten years have seen escalations in violence that are far more random and unforseen. Enemies that never were, have turned on each others throats. Alliances have risen where none would have expected. Powers rise in odd places, wence once there was no strength. And men of great might prove to be nothing more than frightening shadows, easily toppled with by proper force.

The world is a frightening new place, with many possibilities, and unpredictable outcomes yet to arrive. Many may be the heroes who will rise and fall, never before has the time been so rife for those seeking ancient knowledge, hidden plunder, or to simply heed the call to advenure.

((More details to come in further posts.))

See here for character info. 600 CP to play with in this build. Epic? You bet.
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Postby Dorin » Sun Feb 03, 2008 1:42 pm

The following post is for background on the setting wrote:^^; Sorry I haven't put this up sooner. This post is to give some more background on the campaign world, this is something of a 'creation myth' and history in general.


Al'rock is a diverse world; its domain stretches thousands of miles between the seas of the east and west, and seemingly as many between the wastelands that mark the boundaries of north and south. No cartographer has yet been able to completely document the entirity of the land, as many places are unreachable. Be it some form of barrier left in place by the gods, or realms so remote even the bravest dare not tread the soil. Whatever be the case there is more than enough for study in the Known World than to worry about what dwells beyond. Creatures of every shape and make exist, some in small number and some in great abundance.

According to the legends before the world, there was only endless, ethereal Void. The endless expanse of space in which the world floats, some equate it to a sea, some call it an empty blackness. Only the gods can be certain what, if anything, the Void truly is; but it was in this place the gods pulled together the great essenses of protomatter and shaped the land that is Al'rock. The gods caused it to bring forth life in abudent form. The first, and by far the greatest of all things fashioned by divine hands were the Aesir. Beings of nigh-godlike power, who would become the founders of the many great races. It is believed every viable race that dominates the world today is the offspring of an Aesir.

After an unknown length of time, the harmony of the gods' paradise was fractured. From without or within is a matter of speculation. The gods have long since buried this knowledge, and only a handful of trained scholars are privy to the brightest nuggets of truth. Popular legend recounts that the vanity of one or more Aesir caused them to rebel against the gods. While the rebellion was crushed, violently, so great was both the power of the Aesir and their tie to the world, that perfection was cracked. The imperfection may have been small, but it forever twisted the land. The canons tell us that sickness, death, and chaos entered into the world and began to slowly warp and erode everything.

Another, but far less commonly known story, recounts that powers from without bellowed in rage at the hubris of the gods. To fashion a world of light and order in a place of darkness and no structure. Their anger became so manifest it forced the world to shake and rumble; breaking the solidarity of balance that existed and causing everything to begin fraying. Like a tapestry with the masterknot undone, the clutching fingers of entropy slowly pull the threads one at the time, undoing the work of the gods.

This theory is often denied, even by learned scholars, but none will give a course to it. A number of credible texts bring mention to two forces known as the Primals. Whether things older than the gods, with will and intentions of their own, no mortal creature is aware. However, there is incontroverdible proof from seers and sorcerers who have delved the depths of that blackness that these two things exist. The classical sources term them: Tiamat, a forthing pool of ever streaming matter, supposedly the well spring of life--some call Tiamat mother, or father, to all things but unlike the ordered sturcture which we understand, the things that spew from Tiamat are chaotic and completely random in structure; the other, Chyribdis, is described as a malevolent eye set at the center ultimate blackness, surrounded by a swirling corona of black flame, she is called the 'Devourer' bearing a great, unsatable hunger for all things. They seem to have some form of inherit will or power of thought, but their intentions are unknowable. Mortals who have tried to make contact have all been irreversibly driven insane.

Whatever the case of the world's sundering, the gods steadily withdrew from it, whether for fear of being affected by the new chaos or simply shamed by the failure of their perfect creation is unknown. Their being and influence receeded into other planes of existance, where they continued to watch and on occasion interfer, but rarely stepped in personsally as they had in days past. Over progressive generations, the types of life became even more abundent and varied, but were ever more removed from the Aesir who had come first. Mortality was a bitter thing for the Aesir to taste, but their grander-children, many generations apart, simply accepted the rules of relaity.

Since even before the gods departure, the Aesir has been lords of the world. Kings and rulers of all they beheld. With their limitless power and wisdom none were more suited to guide a chaos infected land. Cyrus the Great would become the most notable Aesir king, ruling the whole of the world into a golden age. He is seen by many as the first, and greatest of all kings. Some three centuries passed under his rule, all the land flourished despite the hardships that arose. His death was a tragic loss, and the first portent of doom. Cyrus' legacy endured another four hundred years, with four generations of his blood preserving what he had built, but all were eclipsed by his shadow. Then, the first great Aesir war shook the world.

One of their own, who's name is known in no history record, tapped into the dark powers of the Void and unleashed ill power upon the world which was neither understood, nor could be defended against. It was then made known to the world that Tiamat was indeed a living thing, in a manner of speaking. The Aesir who would begin this war rent the veil protecting the world from outside creatures assunder, and welcome in a hoard of demons and twisted abominations all subservient to his will. A great, dark wave that rose suddenly and crushed everything Cyrus has built and his progeny has maintained. The Aesir as a whole became divided, some flocking to the camp of this unknown warlord, and others pleading with the gods for protection.

The world fell into darkness, which would endure for several decades. Pockets of resistance fought for survival against an evil they little comprehended. Finally, the very gates of their own domains threatened, the gods acted albeit indirectly. Those Aesir who demonstrated loyalty were granted secret knowledge of the Void. Sol-Sunna herself would present Myer-leen the knowledge of what would become today's magic. A number of Aesir and mortal devotees studied this knowledge meticulously, and would forge weapons to combat the darkness. The gods had given deliverence, but also spoken a new rule in the same instance. From that moment forever forward, the fate of the world would remain in the hands of mortal beings evermore.

Demons were cast out, the veil restored and strengthened, and the unnamed aggressor bound and cast into an abyss which is not described by anything more than the name Kil'thos an elvish word for 'enduring and endless death.' Following this great victory, the gods immediatly issued an edict, the last formal decree they could give under unanimous rule, all Aesir were to leave the mortal realm for the rest of time. Those who refused to obey were inflicted with a curse, their power would leak from them slowly. The forces of entropy would have claim to their strength. Most of the Aesir obeyed and followed the gods, be it to the heavens, or into the Void where their fates would become unknown. Those that stayed, owing to their knew knowledge, would find ways to bend the unbreakable law. No one knows their names specifically, but a handful of them to remain. It is speculated that Myer-leen himself remains behind, the first true wizard, and the greatest sorcerer of this age.

Mortals would be left with the task of healing the world, and guided by their own strengths. The power of magic wielded today is an awesome might, but from what is known of the time before the Aesir War, it still pales in compare to those who were the direct children of the gods. It has empowered tyrants and saviours alike; but one fact remains true, no matter how great the power of the magus in question, all must succumb to death. Even those beings like Tergen, who find ways to circumvent the natural order, still must die. Therein lies the seperating factor of mortals from the Aesir. Still, we are but specks of dust to a mountain, most believe.

Since those days, the world has endured, but the cycles continue seemingly without stop. Kingdoms rise and fall, men and women of great power any race live brilliantly for a few grains of time and then die to rot in the bowels of the earth. Darkness has gripped the world and had that same hand severed many times. People live on, make the most of their lives, and those who would rise above all the accepted station may find great adventure, and in it great trouble. Heroes abound, people of great might and nobility. Every child knows the stories of at least one figure of legend. Yet, for every successful hero, a thousand fools trod to their deaths under the belief they too can rise to greatness.

Where yet, will new heroes come, and what will be their stories?

((I hope that helps with the history a little; next post I'm going to give the specific location, some area around it, some of the major power centers, etc.))
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Campaign Immediate Setting

Postby Dorin » Sun Feb 03, 2008 5:35 pm

This post tries to detail the direct setting you will find yourself in during the game 'present' wrote:So, here is an attempt to lay out where you will find yourselves, and some of the major power groups around. The campaign will open in the city of Mesair, which is a rich, living city described below. Post 1 of 2


Nearly all people who know a few details of Mesair have some form of opinion on it. For its residents, it is the only remaining becon of a bygone era, the last fragment of the glory of the gods and the Aesir. The undying projection of great majesty, a jewel in a sea of bland rock. Others see it as a place to be envied, plundered, and burned. Wealth seems to flow into the city as a massive tide, and only trickle back out as pathetic streams. Whatever their opinion, few disagree on the fact the Mesair is the very heart of Al'rock, as much of a heart as the continent can have.

In days now forgotten, the goddess Sol-Sunna stepped for before a humble army captain, of a king so minor his name is remembered only because of the service he was paid, now recorded as Trema the Progenitor and made a covanent; she would put him as a king above kings. The specific words of their agreement are not known, but the result has endured to the current times. The legends of Mesair state that Sol-Sunna vowed Trema's bloodline would endure for the remained of time, his dynasty would rule the city until the final breaking of the world. As signs of this promise, she presented Trema with a sword, Fafnir, which 'none but his blood would ever wield, upon penelty of death,' this seems to be a true oath, as there are accounts throughout history of death coming instantly to whoever so much as graps that sword other than the true king or his heir. The blade Fafnir still exists today. Also, and by far the most enduring mark of that legacy, is the castle Trema erected as his seat of power; Sol-Sunna vowed 'until the day your blood is spent and destoryed, never shall the foundation crack.'

Trema founded Mesair as his capital and went on a string of conquests that has not yet been equalled since, his military career so brilliant he was never once defeated in battle, and is called the greatest general in history. Since then, the fortunes of the kingdom he built have waxed and waned, but never had Mesair's vibrance faded. It remains a pulsating heart that feeds incredible commerce, and bustling growth in the arts. Like few cities before or since, it is place of culture and wealth, and naturally the envy of many.

The city occupies both banks of the Shaimae River, the largest in Al'rock. The river is the lifeline for kingdoms in hundreds miles to both east and west. Mesair sits only a few dozen miles from the headwaters of the river itself, flowing from an allegedly mystical spring set high in the Kaska Mountain chain. According to legend, Sol-Sunna took Trema up into the moutains, at a certain spot she brought down her staff and water sprung forth. It would fill the mountain cave they were in, form a virtually depthless lake, and flow down through the mountains to form Shaimae. This story seems highly fanciful, and may be, but Shaimae is unique in one way other than simply being a massive river. It is the only river the creates rivers, and is not created by others. This unusual phenomina flies in the face of logic, but is true. Shaimae flows from south to north on a roughly straight course, all the way into the Sea of Blood. Along its route, it divides to form the Dhaimae, and the Kahalmae, in addition to its continued path to the sea.

Its geographic position, the gentle currents, and depth of the river allow ships of strong rowers to move virtually unrestricted out to the Sea of Blood and in to Mesair itself. The city boasts a powerful navy, which patrols the waters down into the city and beyond. With absolute power on the river, Mesair is capable of controlling a wide swath of land in both sides, almost from the first years of Trema's reign to the previous king, Mesair has dominated this territory uncontested, bringing in untold amounts of wealth. The river also supports some of the most fertile land in Al'rock, famine is unheard of here, and even in pour years of harvest there is still plenty to feed the populace. Making Mesair both strategically vital, and envied for her wealth.

For several hundred miles, the land south of the Sea of Blood is the most densly populated, and the Shaimae and her offshoots connect several of those lands. Mesair has, from its founding, been the gateway between the lands on both sides of the sea. Raw materials and processed goods alike flow through, through sheer economics Mesair has become the trading powerhouse of the world. Many nations take their raw gold and silver to be processed into the coin of the realm; weights and measures are Mesairan standard, even the common tongue of the region Oisse, has become the common trade language for many lands. It is truly the heart of Mesair.

The city itself is a sprawling metropolis, boasting a population of well over half a million inhabitants within its walls, and well over a million in the areas surrounding it. All manner of races occupy the city or its surroundings. Many keeping only temporary residences to ply a trade part of the season, but a great many more activly live in the city and make their existance within. There is no true plan to the layout, it simply rises in haphazard fashion as cities are wont to do. Most of the wealthy, merchants and nobility, occupy the West City, that is the western bank of the Shainae where the major economic dealings occur. Merchant homes, guild halls, and manses all occupy the West City, making it the most majectic and beautifully appointed portion. The East City is the location of most warehouses, and the poor. Structures are less beautiful, but still solid and give the city an artistic feel.
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Postby Dorin » Sun Feb 03, 2008 5:43 pm

The West and East sides of the city are usually accessed by boat, with ferries running routinely around the clock for relatively low cost for travel. Two massive bridges connect both sides of the city, amazingly complex structures of granite and pale marble. Both bridges are meant to convey the majesty and power of Mesair, and are adorned with statues of past kings and mystical creatures, the hands of the finest dwarven and human craftsmen of ages past went into carving things with an incredible aesthetic feel that comfort the souls of most. Wide enough for twenty men to stand abreast, the bridges allow a long flow of traffic on two levels of road, with a top tier containing actual housing built over the river.

At the center of the river, between both portions of the city, a large island parts the water around it; this being the legendary foundation stone which Sol-Sunna granted to Trema to place his palace. The Citadel of the Dragon as it is also known, is a sprawling complex both above and below ground. It is a masterpiece amidst work of art, the jewel of the crown. It too connects East and West to the central island, but traffic across has always been retricted to petioners seeking audience with the king. Many feel it is the shining beacon of hope for all races, and all people.

Recently the city's fortunes have been in decline. Mesair has long sat as the throne of the larger kingdom known as Keldar, which stretched some fifteen hundred miles from border to border. Throughout history is has been the largest and most powerful nation of Al'rock since Trema began his road to conquest. In the previous two centuries that glory has begun to fade. Slowly but surely kings were pressured to allow areas to break off, be it through uprising or foreign neighbors. Today, the land of Keldar holds to the central kingdom, some three hundred miles border to border, with Mesair and the Shainae at the heart, this land being that touched by the Shainae and the easiest for Keldaran naval power and armies to reach.

Some six score of years ago, King Issakar the Valiant came to the throne of Keldar, and began an efficient campaign of expansion. By the time of his death he had conquerored his three strongest neighbors, adding an extra two hundred miles of land to his borders, and forced every kingdom for countless miles to acknowledge his rule. His son, Issakos the Tiger continued that process, in only a decade he more than doubled his holdings and was on the verge of reclaiming lands equal to the height of Trema's reign. He was preparing for a major campaign into warring states in the west when his maincamp was assaulted unexpectedly and he was slain along with many of his finest commanders. Most believed he died without an heir, and none was ever officially acknowledge or named, thus meaning the end of Trema's house, and the death of th Kathadan dynasty that had endured since its inception.

Yet, events were not as they appeared. Rumor abounds that at a mourning period for the king, a spectre looking like Issakos, in full armor, bloody, flesh torn, and missing an eye entered the hall of dedication. Everyone fell back in terror as the undead spirit strode to the back of the room and plundged his sword into the wall. It turned on his steward, Darion, and uttered a curse of vengence. None of the accounts agree on precisely what was said, but it usually comes to the effect of "...friend...traitor! None shall rule this land but the rightful heir to my house. When blood of my blood and bone of my bone pulls forth this sword, the palace shall again open, and once more will Keldar rise to its height!" The spectre then departed, the sword remaining in place. The palace itself, for reasons none can explain, was suddenly vacated and the great doors of the bridges shut. No force of magic or technology has been able to open them again. No ships enter the central harbor of the island, where the navy was stationed, captains try and report seeming unable to find it. Thieves and invades trying to find ways into the castle find themselves continually frustrated in their efforts. For the sword, it remains buried in the wall of Trema's Lodge, a royal holding outside the palace that had been the first royal hall before the palace was finished. Most now believe it to be Fenrir, as any who have tried pulling the sword have died in the attempt.

Darion was shaken by the event, but swears to this day it was nothing more than an alcoholic enduced hallucination brought on by the grief of the guests and too much bad wine. The lands which Issakos and his forebears spent so much time trying to gain has been divied up to Darion's supporters and friends, and even the core of Keldar itself is managed by powerful magnates that rule their fiefs as independent domains. Tax revenue does not flow up the river to Mesair these days, instead heavy trade taxes and the new 'nobility' spending their fortunes on etravagent parties fuels Mesair's economy. Many kingdoms begin turning their attention toward other routes of trade, as the taxes in Mesair become ever more outlandish; and would-be conquerors eye the city and lick their lips at the prospect of gaining the most prestigous treasure to be had.

The city's light begins to wane, but for hopeful adventures and a great host of others, it remains the place of choice to seek a mean of living. What yet does it's fate hold?
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Postby Dorin » Sat Apr 26, 2008 4:39 pm

Darion is known as many things to many people, to most he is the only piece of sanity remaining in a kingdom blackened by the death of her ruler to treachery and horror. To a scant few, he is seen as that very same traitor riding the name of his former friend in order to support the legitimacy of his rule. Whatever that case of truth, or personal opinion, the fact very well remains that he is the one who controls the kingdom in the wake of troubles that followed Issakos' death.

For better or worse, the Steward of Keldar quickly broke the kingdom into many smaller units all controlled by nobles or merchants loyal to Darion himself, and who feed off the wealth of fief's that never before existed. Taxes for a number of years were oppressive, and the poor nearly broke under the weight of their new yolk. It was Darion who publically issued edicts that lowered taxes and brought relief to the feedmen and serfs. A move which has won the Steward wide support, and entrenched his house as the one likely to continue in the place of the former king. There are none who stand in position to challenge his authority, and none seem willing to try.

Darion is also known for his lavish, almost decadent celebrations. His personal streams of revenue are vast, and they must be so as he pours a vast fortune into every event he holds. Some are so expensive their budgets would threaten to cripple the economies of smaller kingdoms that might try to hold such affairs. All to demonstrate Darion's influence and power in the kingdom. No goods pass through Mesair's trading warfs that Darion does not tax. No noble or merchant holds official charter without his approval. Such is his control on all doings in the kingdom.

This day, just before the Vernal Equinox, he celebrates his pending corronation as the new and future king of Keldar; and the ushering in of a new dynasty to hold the throne and maintain the kingdom. An event of extreme importance, as the house of Kathadan has endured unbroken for millenia until the death of Issakos. Now Darion intends to mark an event unthinkable.

Ironically, or perhaps metaphorically, it also is the eve of Issakos' death; a clear message to all with the wits to see it.

The event, held in the Hall of Oaks, is also the place where every king of Keldar has been crowned since the inception of Trema the Proginator. The hall itself a gift from elvish wildercraftsman; a magical creation of unparalleled natural beauty. A great oak itself, seen as holy to many people, was woven through magic into the boards of the hall, bringing them to new life and giving the entire structure the feel of being alive. Which it very well is. Every spring, the hall comes to life within and without in a bloom of flowers. A garden turned into a building itself.

While large enough to hold hundreds of people, it is now dwarfed by the city that surrounds it, but is no less beautiful and significant in the history of the city. And at the back of the hall, buried in a low beam near the 'honor seat of the king' a throne formed from the living wood and park of the great oak itself, gleems a pearl handle. Encrusted with fine gems and wrapped of wire of silver and gold, the alleged sword Fafnir, sword of kings.

The hall is filled to the point of bursting, with all the great figures of power. Darion's loyal toadies, and those nobles of affair. Foreign dignitaries come to drink the wine, sample the food, and make their nations known to the new king. The atmoshere charged with wonder and intrigue.

Also, are others of less than savory nature. People of questionable background, whos lives in the shadows are rumored to be the foulest and blackest. Murders, slavers, criminals. The faces of the horrid underbelly of Mesair, parasits living off the fat of the innocent and well meaning. Exactly what no king would wish to see at his corronation, but perhaps itself another message from Darion to the crowd at large.

It is into this sprawl which each of you emerge. Whether by formal writ or self invitation. Here you are, in the halls of power, rubbing elbows with the great of all types. A myrid races in all their finery on display. The powerful gathered with which to mingle, or rob blind, whatever the motivations that strike your heart.
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Postby Light02 » Sun Apr 27, 2008 12:50 am

Brianna smirks her hammer held like a staff as she watches what's going on her orders mark planly embeded amost the hammer's head

'hehe looks like I'm gonna have some fun' she smirks a fang peaks threw her lips.
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Postby Pale Wolf » Sun Apr 27, 2008 5:42 am

http://img215.imageshack.us/img215/689/18bqm6.jpg

A tallish young woman, dressed in the habit of Sol-Sunna's acolytes, withdraws to the edge of the crowd, a slight smirk twisting her features as she folds her arms, taking a moment to adjust her glasses.

This is Cyrille. Accompanied by an acolyte, she's a face who'd be recognizable to more or less anyone, as Arch-Canon of Sol-Sunna - head of the Goddess's church - and fairly underdressed for the occassion. Taking a short breath out of the depths of the crowd.

Cyrille is scanning the crowds with a look of mild curiousity, and doesn't look averse to being approached.
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Postby Musouka » Sun Apr 27, 2008 8:37 am

Saitou's eyes scanned the crowd as he smiled and charmed the ladies surrounding him. With his warm blue eyes, shiny black hair and toned body he was surrounded by women the moment he entered the room.

While they were a their bright colors, gaudy jewelry and incessant chattering was starting to give him a headache he did pick up a few interesting rumors that will probably be useful in the future. Excusing himself from the ladies he vanished into the crowd.
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Postby Shadell » Sun Apr 27, 2008 4:55 pm

The thirteeen year old human boy sighed as he leaned against one of the back walls. It was nice to get out of that obnoxious cage; but, these silly ceremonies . 'And, more importantly, why did they have to schedule it just when I actually started something important in my research.'

It was irritating. Usually, his distaste for politics aside, Tavi wouldn't mind being called to some ostentatious event; but, the fact that they had pulled him away from his research on the verge of a breakthrough changed everything.

"Seriously." the youngest looking professor at Mesair's top university sighed to himself. "I know more then most of those idiot co-workers of mine put together; you think that would earn me some autonomy; but, no...."

Tavi sighed once more and continued to mutter. As tempting as the notion to simply leave was, the repercussions of such an act would not be desirable at all. The bottom line was simple, Tavi was a symbol of the university's prestige, it was central to the stupid political games people played that he make an appearance at situations such as this.

"I don't have to like it though." the youth muttered rebelliously, as the lone red eye not obscured by his white hair gazed out sullenly at the proceedings.
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Postby Sailor Sedai (Ellf) » Sun Apr 27, 2008 8:51 pm

A young human man leaned against a back wall, holding onto his staff. A smile graced his face as a few women walked by, but he didn't move from his spot. He was clothed in monk's garments, with the hood of his cloak down, revealing his reddish-brown hair. His eyes, however, were obscured by sunglasses.

Raisho smirked as he heard Tavi's statements, and even snickered a little.
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Postby Shadell » Tue Apr 29, 2008 9:30 pm

Tavi turned sharply and trotted toward the snickering man. "What?" He asked, mustering all the sullen authority a thirteen year old dressed in robes far more pretentious then any thirteen year old could ever pass off without coming across as silly possibly could. That is to say, Tavi looked, and sounded, every bit the spoiled whelp from a rich family.

"What are you laughing about." he asked again, with a voice tinged by a not all that subtle hint of malice.
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Postby Sailor Sedai (Ellf) » Tue Apr 29, 2008 9:42 pm

Raisho tipped his head to the side a bit before smiling warmly. "This situation the country is in. And..." The monk smiled a bit wider. "You, little one. Your indignant attitude is something I find... refreshing. Besides... if you can't laugh about something like this, what is the world coming to?"

Ne'er once did Raisho's sunglasses dip off his face as he straightened out his head after cracking his neck.
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Postby Light02 » Tue Apr 29, 2008 9:45 pm

"To a point where divine judgement would be needed," Brianna smirks winking at the kid
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Postby Shadell » Tue Apr 29, 2008 10:04 pm

Tavi opted to ignore the winking idiot. "While I will admit this country seems to be a joke at the moment; wasting my valuable time is most certainly not so." The boy snorted. "Seriously. If they're going to do something the the damn sword why not at least let us at the university study it first."
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Postby Sailor Sedai (Ellf) » Tue Apr 29, 2008 10:27 pm

"Because there's still the chance that the rightful heir will come and claim it." Raisho continued smiling. "Whether or not that time comes soon or when we are all dead and gone, it will be needed. As for doing something about the sword itself... Lord Darion obviously hopes to solidify his rule as King. The sword is the only thing that stands in the way of that."

Raisho appeared to glance over at the sword for a second, it was hard to tell considering his sunglasses, and then he looked back in Tavi's general direction. "Who knows where that person is... or even if they feel that they have the right to the sword? I know I am not he, nor do I attempt to try."
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