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Old 04-22-2002, 06:08 PM   #1
Brody
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If you participate in an RP-oriented - not PK-oriented - game, you are invited to post log snippets of some of the activities from your MU* here. Keep it clean - no sex logs, and edit the really extreme cursing (f***, motherf*****, etc.). Use only logs of activities in which *you* had a character involved. If necessary, set the scene for the log snippet with a brief opening that puts it in context. Be sure to include the name of the MU*, its website and Telnet address - and that should be the limit of any advertising in the posts.
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Old 04-23-2002, 01:06 AM   #2
Renecen
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Scenario:
This takes place in a Wheel of Time (Robert Jordan's books) world.
Mud is called A moment in Tyme - http://tyme.envy.com/.
You have Loreanna who is an Aes Sedai and with her are Ciaran (me), Roshar and Iavoe. Not her bonded Warders, but Warders nonetheless. Earlier in an Inn a strange man approached them and left them a note saying somebody wants to meet them outside of the city at midnight. So the group rides into the meeting, expecting trouble...


It is well past the midnight hour, and the night is eerily still. Snow falls lightly from the ground, but there is no wind to whip it around. Unfortunately, the clouds cover most of the moon, leaving the night poorly illuminated. As you travel along, you notice a beacon of light, obviously from a small fire, in the location you were told to meet as per the message. Should you enter that light, however, your night vision will be ruined, leaving you temporarily blinded.

The Aes Sedai rides between both Roshar and Ciaran. Her guard is up as she slowly looks over the pitch black area. As Saidar runs through her veins, her sight is inhanced as is her hearing. Her head turns to look at each creak or snap that should arise from around her small party. Her green eyes return to look forward at the firelight. She looks around the light, seeing if there is anyone present at the chosen spot. Her head turns to look to both Roshar and Ciaran, saying nothing as her horse carries her onward between both men. [Loreanna]

Darkish folds of fine fabric shower down from one of the following person's shoulders. It's oliven colour seemingly aborbs the dancing shadows, wrapping his being into shifting shades of black. A large hood is pulled over his head, revealing little of the bearded man's face, and only the subtle shifting of his head indicates his attention seems to be entirely focused upon what lies ahead. The soft sound of his grey horse's hooves crushing through the frozen layer of snow, walking placidly next to Loreanna. [Roshar]

Iavoe's approach is not nearly as direct as the others. Coming in from a different direction, Iavoe arrives silently on foot, the snow muffling his boots which had earlier been covered in a wrap of fur to further quiet them. Those lighter or shinier parts of Iavoe's clothing have been removed or covered so that the man is as black as the night around, face painted to suit and hair hidden beneath his hood. Iavoe's mount is off a ways in the forest, far enough not to be heard or noticed but close enough to be reached with some running. The man has no sword drawn but a loaded small crossbow rests ready in his right hand, and a string of darts is strapped to the leather band over his chest which holds the sheathe upon his back. He moves as silent s he might, shifting from shadow to shadow and never yet entering the circle of light provided by the fire. The man's attention is in constant motion, shifting from the fire to the forest to directly behind him.

Ciaran is garbed more heavily than usual, his regular clothes have been covered by a link-mail shirt that covers the torso and neck area, while the top of the head is adorned with a helmet. Ciaran's face is still visible however and a grim determination can be seen etched onto the man's features, his eyes darting constantly about for any signs of danger. Instead of the usual cloak, Ciaran's back is covered by an old, battered, wooden shield.

As you get closer to the fire, you notice a shadowy figure hunched over it. He is hard to see from a distance, especially considering he has all the light at the moment. He appears, however, to be looking straight at the main party, and somehow you get the impression of an expectant air. He does not move to approach them, however, and seems to be alone.

Loreanna's eyes narrow, focusing on the figure she spots at the fire. She continues to earge her horse on through the snow coming ever closer to the light. The cold does not seem to touch Loreanna. She looks as if she is perfectly comfortable in this cold weather and at ease even though she travels towards a man she does not know anything about. She, perhaps nerverously, looks over to where Cairan's silent form rides next to her and then over to Roshar's form before looking back towards the firelight.

The darkish, metal scabbard at his left hip that shows beneath the lower hem of his cloak swings lightly and in perfect harmony to the tall horse's step. Thin tendrils of pale mist arise both from its nostrils, as well as from the shaded face of the bearded Gaidin, floating and fading into the cold night's air. Softly, Roshar's gloved hands hold the reins of his horse, while it's path is mainly directed by gentle pressure applied by this thighs. His cold, distant but attentive glace drifts over the pale surface of snow and penetrates into the illumed area ahead, only favoring the single present person with a brief moment of attention, before his head drops down lightly again, shading his eyes from the bright light once more. From shaded eyes, his attention drifts mainly into the darkish shadows closeby, carefully scanning his surrounding. His horse keep his position close to Loreanna's right side, slowly approaching what lies ahead. [Roshar]

Iavoe skirts the edges of the light, circling about the darkened perimiter as silent as he is able in search of possible lurkers or ambush. As much as he can Iavoe conceals himself from sight to the sides as well as from the gathering about the fire, though admittedly that is not always possible. His attention is especially alert for signs of tracks in the snow, either for strangers or for indication as to where the waiting man near the fire came from.

Ciaran continues to lead the horse slowly right next to Loreanna towards the circle of light. As the group of tree get close enough, Ciaran looks towards the other two and without any words spoken brings his own horse to a halt and begins to dismount, intent on walking and leading the horse by its reigns the rest of the way. As Ciaran's right hand takes in the reigns, the left hand takes the shield from the back and straps it onto the left arm tightly. Now dismounted, Ciaran stops momentarily before venturing forward and he looks questioningly towards his companions.

As the company stops just outside the circle of light, the man stands and spreads his arms wide open. "Do not be shy, my friends," he says, cheerily enough, "I do not intend to shout at you from afar. Come close to the fire, and warm your bones." As he speaks, he smiles broadly, an action that pulls rather unpleasantly at the scar across his face. [Aidan]

Loreanna moves to follow Ciaran's lead and dismounts with an easy shift of weight. Her boots keeping her feet dry and warm. Her green eyes look to the man as he speaks and goes on to say in her soft Altaran voice, "Greetings." She moves to take her horses reins in her left hand and leads the horse a bit further in. Her eyes are locked on the man's face, taking note of his scar while saying, "You were the one that had the note sent to me?"

A soft and pale tendril of mist crawls past the bearded man's lips, accompanying the low and distant murmur of "Just stay close, m'Lady..." drifts at Loreanna while they are still far enough not to be overheard. A whisper of silently shifting cloth engulfs his shifting form, as he slowly dismounts from his grey horse's back. A distant sound of crunching snow fades into the darkness, as Roshar descends between the two horses, right at Loreanna's right stir-up. Like faint waves of darkens, the thin fabric of his cloak showers downwards, extends and wraps itself smoothly around the still cloaked man, while his gloved, right hand rest still at his horse's reigns - but there is no doubt it would not remain behind as commanded. The folds of his cloaked are still drawn closely around him, veiling the hilts of his weapons, the black shirt and the light chain-mail shirt worn beneath, as he silently follows Loreanna, leading his horse close on his own, right side.. [Roshar]

Iavoe, apparently finding nothing untoward yet, attempts to complete a circuit around the firelight's edge, moving from tree shadow to bush shadow as necessary to stay concealed on this dark night. His attention never stays in one place long, shifting from direction to direction, firelight to darkness as quickly as a bee zipping from flower to flower. Iavoe moves just enough, on noticing his breath in the air, to pull up his tunic over his nose and conceal the telltale white clouds as he stalks the night. Unsure what might happen yet Iavoe makes particular effort to memorize every detail he can about the man at the fire should he be a sole survivor available to report upon him.

Ciaran walks next to Loreanna like a faithful hound. He offers the stranger only a brief nod in greeting and then towards Roshar Ciaran offers a meaningful look, one that could only signify for him to be very careful. Ciaran's shield covers a good part of the front of his torso as he keeps the arm against his chest and the man's eyes continue to dart around.

Aidan's grin suddenly turns feral, a nasty glint entering his eyes as he examines the trio standing before him. Iavoe, of course, he has no knowledge of. Rubbing his hands together eagerly, he proclaims, "Well then. A fine bunch you are, aren't you? With your fine clothing and your expensive accessories. Indeed. Never giving a care for who you trample as you get your grubby hands on your trinkets. Hmph." As he speaks, his voice slowly moves from friendly, to down right nasty, and with the last little sound of disgust, he spits at the snow in Loreanna's general direction and suddenly draws the rather crude sword that hangs at his waist.

The snow suddenly stirs to life it would seem, a mist of pure white catching the light from the fire with a silvery sheen permeated throughout the sudden bustle as six men leaps up from all directions as they were hidden beneath the snow; they are a sore lot to behold, but malice and greed are still evident in their eyes and desperation seen across their rugged expressions and channeled through the ways they each hold a large crossbow in both hands, aimed at the men from the front whilst three of them seek to flank the group of men; one man, Caron, charges from the rear, swinging a club in a wide circle, aimed to knock Loreanna's head even though it would only be a glancing blow meant to render her unconscious (of course, should he get close enough to begin with)

Loreanna's eyes widen slightly and she moves to her right, missing the man's spit and placing herself before Roshar. She pulls her reins close, her horse surprizingly calm but still pancing about from the surprise of the men jumping out. The mare blocks the man, Caron, from actually getting to her and she moves to look around her while prepairing to channel.

Roshar's tall horse steps firmly towards the illumed circle, shielding most of its master torso with its own body towards the right side of the small group. From the depth of his shaded face, his gaze spins towards the suddenly errupting through the peacful surface of snow. The darkish folds of cloth suddenly seem to blossom out around his figure, extending and pulling a gap right at his chest, revealing the black shirt and empty scabbard at his side. As there is little to do for him to prevent the approaching man from reaching Loreanna, his quickly moving figure smoothly pulls his horse forwards and infront of Loreanna's, using the animal to shield her from what attack might come from the illumed circle of light. A pale gleam emits from the slender, slightly cured blade resting invertedly in his left, his main focus is to shield Loreanna from the danger ahead ..- for now.

Iavoe does not hesitate in his next action, though it may not be what one might immediately expect. Taking in the sudden ambush in an instant Iavoe's training comes to the forefront. His first reaction must be an attempt to reduce the usefullness of the crossbows carried by the bandits as Iavoe fires the bolt from his own, still deep in the shadows. The target is easily seen though, as Iavoe fires the bolt directly at the small fire in an attempt to scatter it, perhaps even largely extinguish is as it's pieces fly apart and into the snow, at the least hoping the sudden change in lighting might provide a distraction for the others to act.

Ciaran lets go of his horse's reigns the moment the surprise attack begins and with the right hand now free, he unsheaths the sword from his side in one swift motion. With the shield still covering a good part of his frontside, Ciaran takes a couple of small sidesteps closer to Loreanna's left side, attempting thus to leave the horse as a protective shield for his own left side.

Given the tattered mix of men that seem to consist mostly by rugged men with agricultural backgrounds rather than a hardened packs of brigands; still, they charge with necessity burning in their hearts; Caron growls as his club instead strikes into the Roshar's horse's flank, to whatever reaction this would result in; one of the men instantly fires off a bolt at Iavoe if yet with a hap-hazardous aim. Two of the men had attempted to circle the mass if horses with their crossbows held ready and aimed at Loreanna's front and at whichever may stand near her, horse or man [Caron]

"Mother's milk in a cup!" the scar-faced man cries, jumping back from the fire as it is scattered. Sparks fly up everywhere, singing cloaks, startling horses. One particularly large spark lands upon Loreanna's dress, setting a small, but slowly growing fire.

While looking at the men before her she moves to quickly take up a thick flow of Air and weaves it into a tight net. Her weave causes a wall of Air about 6 feet in height and three in a half feet in length so as to block any bolts that might be shoot at her or Roshar. She does not notice that her dress has just cough fire and continues to hold her weave. [Loreanna]

While looking at the men before her she moves to quickly take up a thick flow of Air and weaves it into a tight net. Her weave causes a wall of Air about 6 feet in height and three in a half feet in length so as to block any bolts that might be shoot at her or Roshar. She does not notice that her dress has just cough fire and continues to hold her weave. [Loreanna]

The club descends violently upon the grey fur of his horse, causing the trained animal to snort out angrily, feeling the tension to grow that late, smelling the foul violence poisoning the clear night's air. As Roshar's gentle, but firmly leading grasp release its reins, the newly gained freedom is used to kick out backwards, unsure whether this will hit the violator, or simply cast a cloud of snow back into the darkness. A black, seemingly shadowed form glides forwards, smoothly rising the gleaming length of steel in his hands as he circles around the front of his horse, intercepting the two men approaching from the front. With a quick, silvery slash of steel, followed by unaimed thrust, he faces the first man, still not stepping far from Loreanna. This maneuver seems more to be aimed to draw their attention towards himself, granting Loreanna additional time to prepare her weaving. [Roshar]

Were Iavoe not still in the shadows, clothes upon him darker still, the bolt might have ended his assistance then and there. As it is the powerful shaft drives through the man's cloak on his left side, beneath the absent left arm, with such force that it yanks the cloak backwards hard tearing the clasp from about his neck and forcing a sound of shocked choking for air for come from his throat. Iavoe is further put off balance as the cloak hauls at the scabbard weaved through a gap before finally being released from the crossbow bolt's grip. The tattered cloak not hangs uselessly from the swoard scabbard on Iavoe's back, his sounds giving away his position, and his balance not yet sure enough to draw the blade. Taking a breath to regain himself from the shock Iavoe pulls forth a black feathered dart from the strap over his chest, the tip poisoned to send a man into a deep slumber once taken effect, and readies himself to throw it at the scarred man near the fire as he stumbles to a new location. [Iavoe]

Ciaran's horse neighs loudly, stamping its feet nervously. Either it is too frightened by the men in all direction or it has been very well trained, for the horse does not instantly stampede off as might be expected. Still, it looks prone to bolt off soon. Ciaran takes further sidesteps towards Loreanna, trying to come between her and the men aiming at her. As Ciaran makes a quick sideways glance to check behind them, he catches the small fire upon Loreanna's dress. Eyes back forward, fixed upon the men, Ciaran attempts to kneel down to scoop some snow, and splatter that against the fire. With his main attention remaining upon the assailants, his attempt is not too accurate.

In the same moment that the two men had positioned themselves to aim at Loreanna, Caron had hurried around the myriad of fluttering capes and neighing horses, seeking a gap in the array with his club hefted at his side and with his teeth gritting in evident frustration; meanwhile, the two confronting men are now wholly busy to fend off Roshar's descending form, even though one cries out in pain as the steel strikes true, with the second having yet to react. "Shoot the horses!" Comes a startled cry from somewhere behind Loreanna and her shield of horses, the remaining two of the group hoisting their weapons in response; Caron had in the same moment crept around trying to find a gap to Loreanna. [Caron]

Aidan's mouth drops open as the cross-bow bolts fall well short of their target, seeming to hit a wall of air. His sword falls from numb fingers as he exclaims roughly, "Bloody ... I ask for a milksop noblewoman and her moron guards, and the fool sends me Aes Sedai!" He looks wildly at Loreanna for a moment, before whirling to flee into the darkness, screaming, "Run, fools! Run if you value your lives!" Meanwhile, the fire on Loreanna's dress spreads rapidly, eagerly eating up the delicate fabric, burning closer to her legs. If it is not soon put out, she will wind up with nasty third degree burns. Fortunately for the Sedai, Ciaran's quick thinking allows the fire to be put out in time. She may suffer from minor burns, but they are nothing a simple poultice won't fix. Aidan runs off randomly ... taking him past Iavoe.

Loreanna moves to keep her wall of Air up, wincing slightly but not yet really feeling the pain of the burns on her left leg. She drops her weave of Air and turns around to look at the other two from behind. Her eyes focus on the one to the right and she moves to take a flow of fire two fingers thick and directs it two their crossbow strings, burning them through.

The stainless white of glistening snow welcomes the colouring spots of liquid life that spray from the slashing weapon continuing its deadly dance in Roshar's hands. Fluttering towards his back, his cloak blows out in response to his steps, taking him away from the first, 1wounded7, right over to the second, still startled form. Hoping for his fate and that his first strike might have disabled his ability to shoot the crossbow, his blade lunges forwards, thrusting dangerously at the second man with the gleaming tip of his sword, honed with darkish blood. Loreanna situation for now is not gifted with his attention, hoping for his Brother to fill out this part, as he focusses upon defending the front.. [Roshar]

Iavoe seems rather surprised as Aidan flees in his general direction, but does not allow that unexpected boon to spoil his aim as he closes and launches the poisoned dart from somewhere betwen five and ten feet in distance?. The dart is aimed not at Aidan's head or chest but instead in the vicinity of his groin, hip, or rump (whichever happens to be facing Iavoe) and thrown with as much force as Iavoe's right arm can give it without spoiling the aim. Iavoe does not pause, continuing to move in Aidan's direction even as he looks back briefly at the man charging at him from behind. The dart thrown Iavoe's right hand moves quickly to slough off the black cloak as he runs, gaze shifting between Aidan to see if his attack struck and the man behind him to see if he is about to be attackeed.

Ciaran looks momentarily torn between running after the men or staying by Loreanna's side. Ciaran chooses for the latter. Now that there are no direct crossbows aimed at the woman anymore, Ciaran shifts slightly to the side, allowing the woman a better view of the surroundings, but he still remains very close, shield and sword poised at the ready. His eyes scan around the area fervently, seeming to expect another surprise attack to ensue any moment.

There are some amount of confusion mingled with an air of fear as the word 'Aes Sedai' breaches the evening air with its piercing context; were the duo of crossbowmen had intended to shoot at the horses they instead turn their tails to flee in the other way with startled yelps as their bowstrings are lit aflame by Loreanna's invisible craft. "Witches! Light have mercy!" Turning their tails they run in the other direction in a half-stumble; however, Caron had not yet heard the issued command, wholly intent on using his club for something useful. "Bloody witch! Finding a gap he charges at Loreanna with a primitive cry, hefting his club in a descending blow meant for her head even though Ciaran would most likely be in the way. [Caron]

The man having flanked Roshar's first victim falls into his own doom as the darkly clad man's blade severs air until delving into flesh, piercing his form through smoothly enough to ensure a swift kill.

Aidan grunts sharply as he takes Iavoe's dart to the groin. He stumbles, yanking the dart, before stumbling on at a somewhat slower pace. He manages this for about ten minutes (provided his flight is not stoped) before finally the drug kicks in and causes him to sink slowly to the ground.

The pain from the burns on her left leg begin to break through her heavy consintration in weaving and she drops all flows. She hears Caron's words but he is to close now for her to be able to weave in time to stop him or block him. She instead moves to take from within her sleaves her two daggers, ready to fend him off manually. [Loreanna]

Hisses of steam seem to crawl from the depths of Roshar's skull, as his heavy breath mixes with the chilled atmosphere of a cold winter's night. His efforts, his slashing and thrusting have caught a breeze slipping into his hood, pushing back the fine cloth of darkish fabric and revealing the cold, distant gleam that flickers deep within his green eyes. His expression, those deep features that seem to be etched beneath the thin layer of brown beard, does not even alter minimally as the razor sharp edge of his slender blade digs deeply into the soft flesh of his opponent. Returning into the open, full drops of blood drop to the ground, accompanying the tiny tendrils of visible heat that arise from his blade's coating. No time is wasted, as his motions once more melt into another attack, dismissing his former target to his fate and turning to finish what had begun with the first, already wounded man. [Roshar]

Seemingly satisfied as to Aidan's imminent future on noting the man is struck by the dart, Iavoe dismisses the fleeing man mostly, making sure solely that the fellow doesn't double back to attack him, as the man should be easy enough to track and find in the snow. Iavoe does not stop moving though, continuing to flee from the man charging after him (if the man didn't run off himself yet) while drawing the blade with his right hand from the sheathe upon his back. This does slow Iavoe enough that the following bandit could gain a fair bit of ground, but depending on how fast the man is he might not have chance to attack before Iavoe has the blade fully drawn and turns about to face the enemy. [Iavoe]

Ciaran allows Caron to come closer, using the assailant's forward momentum and careless charging to Caron's own disadvantage. With a quick step back towards his original position in front of Loreanna, Ciaran needs to do little to block the incoming club. His left arm shoots upwards and front, pushing the shield outwards protectively, letting the club crash against its wooden surface instead. Ciaran's arm wavers, a grimace adorns his face momentarily, but the man holds his ground. Underneath the shield, Ciaran's right arm brings the sword forwards, its tip directed precisely towards Caron's stomach.

The man that had originally shot at Iavoe is now running away from them all in the same fashion as all the rest, a fading shadow in the enclosing forest; the man that had only a split-second earlier been stabbed by Roshar is neatly finished off with only a brief pause spanning to an eye blink between the first blow and the second that ultimately ended his life. Caron's doom is also met in about the same moment, his eyes widening in disbelief at the blade that had sunk into his gut through Ciaran's aptness, life slowly draining from his face. All that would remain now would be the corpses, the brooding silence, and the occasional crack of the cindered wood scattered through the bloodied snow. [Caron]

Loreanna's arms fall down to her side, still gripping her daggers in both hands tightly. Seeing that Ciaran is dealing with the last man, Loreanna slowly turns around her and looks to see if there is anyone else left to defend herself from. She is openly panting, the channeling not having been easy in such preasure. Her heated breath coming out in large puffs of white air. She winces again and looks down, just now seeing what the pain at her left leg is from.

Slowly, the spinning veil of steel that had engulfed Roshar only a moment before slows down. The folds of his cloak settle down peacefully around his legs, not remembers the sudden outbreak of violence that stirred their silence. A darkish gleam emits from the stern Gaidin's face, snapping and sweeping across this display of madness. A pool of blood begins to form at his blade's tip, drawing a thin line that marks his path towards Loreanna. " You are alright, m'Lady?", he inquires, quickly sweeping his gaze across her being, looking for signs of injury himself. [Roshar]

Iavoe whistles sharply twice, the piercing sounds penetrating the night and signaling his stallion off in the distance to break it's bindings and come to Iavoe. Iavoe's voice bellowing out follows as he shouts after the fleeing man (that he knows of), 'Return and surrender if you wish to live, run and we will hunt you to the end of the world to see you dead!' though not expecting the man to actually do so. His shout is equally signalling of his presence to his allies though as he moves to find Aidan's trail.

Ciaran watches emotionlessly as Caron sinks to the ground. He yanks back the sword to free it of the victim's body, and as he poises it ready once more some drops of blood run down the blade's side and onto Ciaran's gloves. With the danger now finally seeming to be over, Ciaran glances towards Loreanna just in time to see the woman stammer weakly. Ciaran lets the shield drop instantly as he scoops the fainting woman into his left arm's hold.

A moment in Tyme
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Old 05-02-2002, 11:50 PM   #3
Alysandra
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Tarmon Gaidon is a mud based on Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time Series. http://www.tarmongaidon.org or telnet tarmongaidon.org 5000 to play.

This scene takes place between my Aes Sedai character (magic user type for those of you unfamiliar with the Wheel of Time) and my warder (protector) just before we come across a band of Trollocs.

Giving Blaze a nudge with the heel of her boot, Alysandra starts down the street which will lead to another finally arriving at the eastern gate of the town. Despite the brisk early morning air the hood of her cloak is flung back onto her shoulders.

Aranel's face is set as he follows just off to your right side, his fancloth cloak tossed over his shoulder causing parts of his back and arms to seemingly disappear. Clucking softly to Cab he keeps pace easily, his eyes traveling along the streets nodding at what he sees.

Alysandra keeps her horse at a fast walk through the nearly empty streets arriving at the gate fairly quickly. Drawing to a halt she waits for the guardsman on duty to come out and open the gate for them.

Keeping a tight rein on his steed, Aranel gives the guardsman a nod as his eyes widen and he stammers softly, "Light keep you Aes Sedai." Barely pausing to return Aranel's nod he calls out and a second guard bows quickly on his way to open the heavy oaken gate. Both guardsmen stand back respectfully as you ride out and with a gruff, "Peace favor your swords." Aranel follows quickly.

Alysandra gives the men a gracious nod and murmurs, "Light's blessing on you both." as she rides through the gate. She nudges her heels into her mare's side and even as her pace picks up she hears the closing of the town gates behind her.

Aranel inhales deeply as he catches up to you, "There is nothing like the road in the morn." He chuckles, "And the Border is distinct in it's scent as well." He grins briefly glancing at you before sobering and returning his attention to the road.

Alysandra nods slightly. "We will keep to a trot until it is a bit lighter. No sense in laming the horses." she says though there is a hint of impatience in her voice now that she is back on the road again. "I do not have the Foretelling, but that does not prevent me from thinking the sooner we are to Shienar the better for Esteya and Guilla."

Aranel nods patting Cab's neck absently his eyes scanning the fields to either side, "Truly we would be better to push on a bit quicker now." He motions to the road, "If my memory will serve me this road drives north then east bringing us closer to the Blight border. Though the trees are stunted 'tis more likely to hide Shadowspawn than here." He shrugs slightly waiting your decision.

Alysandra frowns slightly. "We will have to risk it then. I can heal near anything on our mounts but it would be good as lighting a bonfire for what lies over the border." she says. "Light willing they will not falter." she says as she brings her horse from trot to canter and begins easing into a gallop.

Following your lead, Aranel kicks his mount to a gallop. Coming along next to you he glances over giving Cab his head, "They have been well trained, I am sure we will be fine." He turns his attention back to the road and roadsides, his cloak trailing behind him.

Alysandra nods slightly, her concentration on guiding her mount on the still dark road. She rides low to the saddle for speed and greater comfort.

Aranel travels in silence, the sound of the horses’ hooves the only sound on the road. As time goes on and the town is left behind, the sun begins to peek from the eastern horizon and the sound of birds fills the air.

Alysandra rounds the bend as the road curves east quickly, aided by the dawning light. All around stunted trees line the road, now and again stumps left from where they have been chopped down or a scarred, split trunk attesting to the coldness of a borderland winter.

Aranel glances side to side then calls over softly, "Let us slow for a bit, let the horses breath." He fits his words slowing his horse to a canter. Standing up in his stirrups he takes a look around before sitting nodding slowly. "We have made good time this morning."

Alysandra nods, slowing her horse likewise into an easy canter. She gives the horse a light pat on its neck. "They are long winded, but the rest will do them good. I think we will be able to stop to pick up luncheon, but I do not wish to break our journey for long at noon. A quarter of a candlemark or so."

Aranel nods smiling slightly, "That is more than I expected, welcome though." His eyes never stop roving the sides of the road and after a moment he retrieves a canteen hanging from his saddlebags, riding close to you he leans offers it.

Alysandra takes the canteen and raises it to her lips, tilting her head back slightly to drink before returning it to you. "By lunchtime our mounts will do better for even a short rest and water. Not too much since we have a great deal more riding to do today." Though she continues to hold to a canter there is a decided impatience about her.

Taking the canteen back Aranel swishes some water in his mouth before spitting it to the side. He simply nods as he recaps the canteen and stows it back in it's place. Glancing side to side his brow furrows slightly, "Have you noticed the birds have quieted?" His hands grip the reins and he adds, "Could be our travel through of course.." He trails off.

[Bond] Senior Warder Aranel: *focus nervous energy*

[Bond] Aes Sedai [Yellow Ajah] Alysandra: annoyance impatience

Alysandra frowns. "It could be our passage I suppose. Still no need to sit around, the faster we are gone from this wood lined road the better I will like it." she says before easing her horse back to a full gallop.
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Old 05-10-2012, 03:50 PM   #4
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Name: Stacy
Location: USA
Home MUD: NWAteraan
Home MUD: 4 Dimensions
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Re: Got logs?

This takes place on a mud called 4Dimensions | the online multiplayer text-based RPG. It was my favorite one to do



Tynian slowly walks into the sanctuary, looking over his shoulder into the darkness outside before walking further in; he straightens himself as if shaking off the eerie feeling of being in a graveyard. His dark robe almost makes his figure invisible in the dark doorway. He looks around the sanctuary before finding himself a place to sit down on one of the benches. She's is frighteningly attractive, the mistress. 'I agree.. you should make her yours..'

Sarias wraps her fingers around one of the aged ceramic vases. Her green eyes twinkled in a preying manner at the object as she took in the scent of the eroded flowers it contained. She was thinking of pocketing it, seeing as it was a lovely piece, and would look good on one of her shelves. Then again, wasn’t it sort of a taboo idea to be a grave robber? Cradling it in her arms, she stopped her envious stares when she noticed footsteps upon the path. “Who is there?” She called out loud without looking behind her.

Tynian's heart skipped a beat; he had not expected anyone to be in this place of solitude. The one place his mind would be free to wander. The voice sounded familiar somehow, where had he heard it before? He decided to not respond. He slowly rises up to get a better view of who the intruder would be. Could it be her? He started to move towards the voices direction as quietly as possible.

Sarias held the vase to her chest like a coveting mother and turned her head to glare at the shadows behind her. There was no way she was going to let another grave robber steal her vase. It was hers, darn it. She saw it first. Sarias curled her lip almost into a snarl and her jade eyes bored into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of who the unwanted guest was. “I said, who is there?! I demand an answer.” She spouted off in a more impatient and bold tone.

Tynian stopped at once as he heard the voice, it was her. It was most definitely her. His feelings all mixed up. What is she doing here? Did she know he use to come here? No, her questioning tone was revealing that much. Tynian took another step; it took him into the dim light pillar from the moon, illuminating his form. "It is I, mistress.." he almost whispered. She is such a beautiful creature.. "May I ask what you are doing here, mistress?" Tynian decided it would be a better decision to not give in to the darker side of himself, for now.

Sarias nearly choked on a gasp when his voice reached her ears. She removed her face from his direction and stared nervously down at the vase. She couldn’t just be telling him that she was down here stealing stuff; she didn’t know if that was accepted by most people. Fidgeting with the vase in her arms, she only turned a bit to give the wolf a side glance before replying in a rather off guard voice, “I’m.. I’m praying and grieving. What are you doing here?”

Tynian raised an eyebrow, "Grieving..? The vase.. a sign of respect I take it?" he still did not manage to not sound surprised at discovering her here, in 'his' sanctuary. She seems nervous, he thought; maybe it'll be an advantage. Tynian closed his eyes for a moment, 'Of course it is an advantage!' the voice in his head almost shouted at him. He looked up worriedly as if someone would even hear this darker part of him, urging him on. Tynian takes another few steps closer, out of the moonlight and once again becomes only a dark silhouette. "You're alone.. then..?" he asks quietly.

Sarias froze in her place and pressed the vase even tightly against her. He had seen it?! Shoot. She knew she should have hidden it before someone had seen her. Not wanting to lose her composure too badly, her green eyes flickered with a suspicious look; she didn’t like his questions one bit. Sarias straightened her back and replied haughtily, “One brings flowers to those they are grieving over.. and yes I am alone except for some wandering bugs that are trying to nip at my flowers.”

Tynian smiled softly, before taking a few steps closer to the elven woman. "I am sorry for your loss.." he whispers as he closes in on her further. "If you had told me you were coming here.. I would not have disturbed.." he smiled inwardly at the confirmation that she was indeed alone, he felt like he was on the hunt and happened upon a surprised doe. Yet he knew that within this seemingly fragile woman there was a strong will.

Sarias had to push away thoughts in her mind that he was going to steal her vase, and instead threw him a grin that brightened her whole complexion. “You’re not disturbing, sir. I was just going to return home before you happened upon me.” The woman did not turn her body toward him yet, but she could feel his presence coming closer. It was alarming dark, his presence, but she kept up a smile to perhaps sway him from her nervousness. “You still haven’t answered my previous question. Why are you here?”

Tynian was slightly surprised at the tone of the woman’s voice and the sudden grin. Fighting down the urge to pounce he slowed his steps. Tynian stopped just a few strides away from Sarias, "It is a place to Pray.." He goes silent for a moment and motions for an open slot among the old vases near where the woman was standing. "That looks like a beautiful spot for your vase.." Tynian's yellow eyes wandered up and down the woman's figure, gleaming slightly as they catch the moonlight. "I come here to pray sometimes." Tynian smiles slightly. It seems his prayers might just have been answered.

Sarias eyed him with an observant stare, but then nodded her head in agreement. Her arms were growing numb from her deep hug with the ancient vase, so she set the object down with grace and tossed her glance to the wolf that was emitting a rather daunting aura. Her signature grin struck against her mouth, showing off a set of pearly teeth that matched her glistening eyes. She wasn’t sure if she liked the man’s devouring stares, but there was nothing she couldn’t handle at this point. “Ah? Have you lost a loved one too, or do you pray just for sport?”

Tynian chuckles softly, "You could call it meditation.." he now looks straight into her beautiful eyes. She truly is remarkably beautiful, pity she's bonded to my blood brother. 'Who cares?!' the voice kept urging him on, to pounce, to act swiftly before the advantage was lost entirely. Tynian closes the distance to Sarias slowly but with confidence, reaching out to touch her shoulder, "You have my condolences." He pauses before continuing, "What are your plans for tonight, after this prayer session..?"

Sarias caught her breath behind her teeth when the wolf touched her shoulder. God, this creature could make her shiver. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if she allowed him to touch her even further in this setting, it would be electrifying. “I plan to, how do you say it,” Her body swiftly turned towards him and she reached up to stroke his cheek. “Correspond with certain individuals. Most of them are quite uninteresting, if I may confess.” She craned her neck in a quizzical manner and smirked. “What did you have planned, besides eating me?”

Tynian nodded slowly before whispering, "That sounds most.. boring.. If you don't mind me saying." He gently pushed his cheek against her hand almost involuntarily, for a moment closing his eyes as he enjoys the touch. Tynian smiled and once again opened his eyes; before he knew it he had reached out and was running a claw like nail down Sarias neck from below the earlobe towards her shoulder. Moments later he removes his hand from her. What’s happening, why can’t I control myself, I nearly grabbed her neck. Is she really that irresistible?

Sarias clicks her tongue against her teeth disapprovingly. Was he going to get touchy with her in the middle of a graveyard? All disapproval aside, she had to stop herself from having a heart attack by him scratching his nail against her. He could cut her at any moment with one swipe of his claw, and the thought of that was quite tantalizing. Her green eyes darkened as a sudden lust began to overpower them, she could feel her body moving closer to him as her stare deepened. “Oh? What would be more exciting than a correspondence? Or are you jealous that it’s not you?”

Tynian was struggling to keep his calm and to control himself, "I.." he bit his tongue and made a face before admitting it, "Yes." his answer was short and quiet. There was something about this woman that made him desire her on several levels, to possess her, the irony.. a mistress in the claws of her pet.

Sarias raised her eyebrows in humor at the wolf’s answer; she loved the emotions that were displaying across his features. He was certainly an interesting pet. The side of her mouth formed into a slight smile as her finger threaded themselves through the scruff of his neck. She playfully, but also forcefully, tugged on his fur and pulled the anxious wolf into a small peck on the lips. The elven woman pulled away from his presence and scooped up the vase from behind her before passing by him. Sarias gave him a mischievous wink as she clutched the vase against her chest. “Next time don’t be shy, darling. I won’t bite.” She threw back her head in a melodious giggle and spun around to run off with her prize.

Tynian was standing quietly somewhat surprised at the sudden peck as she started making her way, his ears turned her direction as she spoke. She won't bite, but maybe I will.. He straightened up and turned to look in the direction of the sound of her steps, trying to get a last look at her. 'She's gone now and you did NOTHING while she was here!' the voice in his head yelled. It would be a tiresome evening of listening to that annoying yet persuading voice. Why was his darker instincts even given a voice.. Tynian cont'd. "Must've been the accident.."
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Old 05-16-2012, 05:34 AM   #5
Xavi
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Re: Got logs?

This RP (which I had to edit down a lot to fit..) is from the recently opened Worlds of Katarra: The Worlds of Katarra | Home

Please note: we were all being very silly, here.


The Aubergine Affair / A Street Bazaar in Evermoore:


Xavi Lusk was being stared at. Not by one pair of eyes, but many. Frowns of disapproval and loud 'tsks' were offered the Lusk girl's way, as she was the source of a perilous disquiet. Apparently oblivious to danger and disapproval both, with her hands balled into fists and these planted squarely on her hips, the generally polite scholar was facing off a rotund, whiskered and highly chagrined fruit-and-vegetable merchant.

Xavi said to the merchant, "Aubergine. AU-BER-GINE. It's not difficult. Say it with me now. Au... Ber..."

The hirsute grocer interrupted, leaning across his cart to bellow into her face, "It's a fecking.. EGGPLANT, ye daft bint!"

Xavi narrowed her eyes, not prepared to win this war with violence. But by all the gods, she was sorely tempted...

Bridgette starts muttering to herself and making the strangest gestures, all while staring daggers at the merchant. Loony or not, though, the stall tender can't say a word about it. In fact, he can't say a word about anything, not when his lower jaw is fastened to the upper by a nicely shaped formation of ice. "Now that's no way to speak to someone," she scolds the man, not at all intimidating even with her waggling finger. "Be civil! She's your customer, damnit!"

Xavi was in the process of concocting her next stunning verbal riposte to this nomencularly challenged, fruit-abusing dimwit of a grocer, regarding his clearly doubtful education in the very produce he was hawking. This dagger of witty brilliance was still poised on her tongue when of a sudden the red-faced merchant starting making an odd sound. "Mmmmf! MFFFF!"

Thinking he was perhaps suffering a leakage of the brain brought on by high blood pressure, Xavi was about to call for a medic when Bridgette's astutely-spoken command rang through the bazaar. She startled and wheeled about, and then wheeled back to see the clump of ice binding the man's mouth. "Aubergine!" she snapped, taking the opportunity to make her point clear once again. She then turned back toward Bridgette. "I say.. did you do that? Magic, was it? Very clever.. " the girl's brow pinched in a frown, then. "I'd like to have had him admit fault, but I do believe the man is incorrigible on that particular point."

Bridgette turns quite the shade of scarlet as eyes turn from the upstart girl to the mouth-freezing woman, baleful stares having a new home in the poor lycan. Blush or no, though, she stands her ground, not once losing her less-than-pleased composure, returning as many glares as she can. "Yes, it was magic," she says, almost as though she's trying to dare someone in the crowd to try to oppose her. Or maybe she's just trying to sound more sure of herself than she really is. Either way, her eyes soon enough travel to the seemingly produce-savvy girl, her head cocking ever so slightly to the side. "Perhaps your parents would have had a better job of getting him to concede?"

Xavi was a good-humoured girl, too.. usually. But the grocer had gotten her dander up, and what she perceived as unnecessary condescension from the petite mage made her nose twitch and cheeks flush anew. "I'm sixteen years old, and capable of knowing what an aubergine is all on my own, thanks all the same," she responded, in a clipped tone. "Do your own parents approve of you ice-gagging vegetable merchants?" The poor man was still making garbled sounds and clawing at the frozen wad clamped below his nose.

Bridgette balls her fists and might even have made an indignant huffing sound when the approval of her parents comes into question. "I have not needed the approval of my parents for almost three decades, little girl!" Curse her barely reaching the five foot mark! Though on the bright side, no one ever calls her old at a glance. She still doesn't ungag the merchant, though. The ice will melt. Eventually. "But my age is not the point of interest here. The point is that you're a child, arguing with a man who clearly thinks a child doesn't know what they're talking about. I simply suggested that your parents might have helped him see reason without his current..." She pauses for a moment, looking at her handywork on the poor fellow's face. "His current dilemma."

Alexandria ambles through the bazaar, having just finished restocking her herbs, and comes into view of Bridgette and the girl she had met yesterday. Both almost receive a smile before the gagged merchant is noticed, and immediately her features twist into a serious, and very unamused frown. "Who did this."

Xavi couldn't help but laugh, then felt she ought not to so raised her hand to cover it. Composing herself, she shook her head, "My parents are a long way away, I fear, and probably far too taken up with their duties to be bothered with an argument about egg.. aubergines." Muted or not, the grocer was celebrating her slip-up with a 'Mff-fff!" of laughter and a pointed finger, but Xavi chose to ignore him in favour of more pleasant company. She was about to introduce herself when Alexandria arrived, the General's demand for the guilty party met with a blank look, a red face and finally a watery smile. "Must've eaten some.. chilled raspberries, Miss." She shrugged, her palms turning up. It was a lie, and she had been raised to never lie. But then, here she was in Evermoore, where she'd been forbidden to go. Walking on the wild side indeed, was Xavi.

Alexandria's hardened gaze shifts between both Bridgette and Xavi as she awaits an answer, because clearly she had asked the two girls the question, rather than the gagged merchant.

Xavi Lusk wasn't saying any more, having broken into a light sweat. She wondered whether one might be deported, for lying to a General.

Bridgette just might be grinning at Xavi's expense at the slip up, but a hand risen to cover a cough hides her mouth for a few moments. She's on the verge of some comment about semantics before Alexandria makes her demand, stealing the mage's attention. Eyes drift from the ice gag to the General, and that's when she hears Xavi blame it on raspberries of all things. Alexandria's seen Bridgette use her magics before so she waits a moment to see if the dots will be connected. The coy smirk that is quickly hidden by a hand yet again might also hint at it. She mutters something unintelligible, but really it's not what's said that matters. It's the fact that a quick waggle of her fingers has the ice gag vanishing, leaving the likely irate stall clerk to rant and rage as he will. Or simply to gloat about the Lusk girl's produce name slip up.

Xavi was attempting to sidle away, one inch at a time, hoping the crowd might swallow her before the merchant had a chance to reveal her untruth. She wondered whether they put people in the stockades for lying to a General, and how long one might have to stay in them.

The merchant appears to have lost his mind for a moment, hopping about and bleating, "Eggplant! Eggplant! Ahahaha!"

Xavi froze, now worried that lying to a General might constitute treason and be, therefore, a hanging offense.

Alexandria merely crooks an eyebrow at Xavi's answer, "Chilled raspberries..." A roll of her eyes dismisses the girl's statement, and attention snaps to Bridgette, "Bridgette, get that thing off of the man, now. I hear of, or catch you doing this again, I will have to arrest you on grounds of assault," the General still doesn't look amused about the whole thing as she turns back to the women, her attention now settled on Xavi. "Please don't lie to me again, yeah?" There's a pause long enough for Alex to draw her hand from her pocket and offer it to the human, "I don't think we were introduced yesterday. I'm Alexandria."

Bridgette simply shrugs at the declaration, her eyes settling rather calmly on the merchant. "Well, if he will stop calling his customers 'daft bints,' I won't find myself provoked." She can only roll her eyes at the stall keeper's overly jubilant exclamations of 'Eggplant'. "Not that I'll likely have much call to venture out this far very often, anyways."

Alexandria turns to regard Bridgette with yet another highly unamused expression. "Don't buy from him if he insults you. Do not attack him." Her hand is still waiting for Xavi's own.

Xavi nodded, visibly quaking in her boots. "Xavi. Xavi Lusk, of the Warren Lusks. And I have never lied to anyone, let alone a .. person of your stature, Miss." She was close to tears, so grateful was she not to be hung, drawn and quartered. She did cast a grateful glance to Bridgette when the diminutive spellcaster spoke up against the merchant's abuse of floral terminology. "I admit I -might- have given him cause to feel a bit less than generous toward my point of view..."

Xavi added, very quietly, "Though really, he ought to know what an aubergine is."

"That would be desirable, I would hate to have to condemn you due to such disrespect." Despite the slightly serious edge to her voice, Alexandria can't keep a large grin, and the laughter that comes with it, at bay for very long. "Isn't an aubergine an eggplant?"

Xavi Lusk twitched - surely it was by the grace of the gods that she was not hung by her thumbs in a dungeon by now. "Yes. It is. But they're more often called aubergines." Her teeth clamped down on her lip, to prevent herself launching into another diatribe regarding the correct labeling of vegetable boxes.

Xavi looked about for Bridgette and found her not. Perhaps another magic trick! Or maybe the mage had just gone on her way, while the going was good.

Last edited by Xavi : 05-16-2012 at 05:40 AM.
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