Post by M@X on Aug 27, 2005 13:45:55 GMT -5
(OOC:NOTE: This is a Forgotten Realms RP, and takes place in Faerûn. If you don't know what Faerûn is, don't worry, it doesn't matter. To keep the RP in FG spirit, and for plot reasons, please stick to what I've written below, I beg of you.
Character races from the prime material plane of existance only. I.E. No elementals, no spirits, No demons, quasi-demons or other abyssal creatures. And no undead, made up races(This also includes races that are not widely used in fantasy books, unless they are used in the FG books/games, of course) or half-demons either. All of the above, except half-demons and made up races, are acceptable as summons, but not as constantly active RP characters. (Except for weaker demons or quasi-demons, which are acceptable as familiars, but only one per wizardly character.) All races of the prime material plane not mentioned above are acceptable, as long as you are able to RP them and aren't overpowering. Oh, yes, and please, no animéish stuff(Including having japanese names), act medieval, or Forgotten realmish, if you have any experience of the Forgotten realms, if you don't, act like it's a fantasy, which it is.)
IC:
Pacing back and forth in the little room, one hand on his back, he pulled his brown goatee with the other. His face was locked in a scowl, but anyone could've seen that the reason behind the young mage's expression was not anger, but terror and desperation. A chittering snicker suddenly interrupted his incohearable mumbling.
The reddish little imp had been unable to control his glee at his master's frightened visage, and had failed to keep from giggling.
As the mage turned toward it, though, it realized it's mistake and the wicked smile disappeared instantly.
It's small wings fluttered in vain as a skinny hand, it's fingers adorned with all kinds of rings, shot out and grabbed the imp's throat. It gave a wimper, which was cut short by the fact that the imp was disintergrating. It looked at the mage, surprised, as it was simply being bansihed, upon which it would return to it's home in the first of the nine hells, hardly a punishment, coming from the evil mage.
But the mage shook his head, released his grip on the imp and held up nine fingers, grinning wickedly.
The imp tried to scream, but it's mouth was no more, and a moment later, the imp was banished to the ninth and final hell, to the torture of the waiting Balors.
Hurting the imp brought a moment of pleasure to the mage, but it quickly dissipated and he returned to his previous state of fright and desperation. He paced across the room once again, and happened to walk right in front of a full-size mirror, and upon seeing his own scowling visage, resolve returned to him.
"No, I am Edgard Odesseiron, and I will NOT be defeated by the mere arcane hosttower, they will NOT catch me!" He said in a strange, Thayan accent, stood straight, and straightened his crimson robes. The robes were, in truth, those of an archmage. Upon leaving his home, he had stolen them from his mother, or rather, what he had always seen as his mother. The woman actually claimed to be his father, and, in truth, in the world of wizards, you can never be completely sure, even with things such as gender...
Edgard shuddered at the thought and pushed it aside, instead going through the events that had led him to this point.
Edgard was not a reknowned mage, just like he wanted it, but that didn't matter, the hosttower knew about him anyway, and when they sent an invitation, how could he refuse? And so he had traveled here, to the port city Luskan, to see what the fabled archmages of the hosttower wanted with him.
It turned out that they thought him a mage of potential, and had wanted him as one of their own.
Outraged at having wasted time going to Luskan, only to find that they wanted him merely to increase their own numbers, Edgard declined and left the hosttower with as many magical relics as he could carry.
Of course they had noticed that items were missing, and no doubt had they come to the conclusion that Edgard was guilty, so now he had at most a few hours to flee the city, lest he would be fried, crushed, torn apart, melted, electrocuted, frozen and smashed, impaled, eaten by demons or whatever other tortures the wizards of the hosttower could think of, or perhaps he would spend the rest of his, in that case undeniably short life, as a guinea pig, figurative AND literal...
Edgard shuddered again, but straightened up and looked to where the imp had been. With a snap of his fingers and a command word, the imp reappeared, shaking violently, and quite a bit more humble. Edgard pointed to the door and ordered the imp out.
Calling upon it's innate magical abilities, the imp became invisible and floated out through the door and down the stairs, to the first floor of the little tavern, which was empty. The imp positioned itself on the bar, still invisible, to act as his master's eyes, and inform him if anyone entered the tavern. For Edgard had magically put up notes throughout the city, calling adventurers to a treasure hunt. Of course, the real reason for the notes was to gather fodder in case agents of the hosttower were to pursue him. Of course, no name was on the posters, only the name of the tavern where they were supposed to go, "The siren's lap".
Upstairs, in his room, Edgard was preparing contingencies for the journey ahed of him.
Character races from the prime material plane of existance only. I.E. No elementals, no spirits, No demons, quasi-demons or other abyssal creatures. And no undead, made up races(This also includes races that are not widely used in fantasy books, unless they are used in the FG books/games, of course) or half-demons either. All of the above, except half-demons and made up races, are acceptable as summons, but not as constantly active RP characters. (Except for weaker demons or quasi-demons, which are acceptable as familiars, but only one per wizardly character.) All races of the prime material plane not mentioned above are acceptable, as long as you are able to RP them and aren't overpowering. Oh, yes, and please, no animéish stuff(Including having japanese names), act medieval, or Forgotten realmish, if you have any experience of the Forgotten realms, if you don't, act like it's a fantasy, which it is.)
IC:
Pacing back and forth in the little room, one hand on his back, he pulled his brown goatee with the other. His face was locked in a scowl, but anyone could've seen that the reason behind the young mage's expression was not anger, but terror and desperation. A chittering snicker suddenly interrupted his incohearable mumbling.
The reddish little imp had been unable to control his glee at his master's frightened visage, and had failed to keep from giggling.
As the mage turned toward it, though, it realized it's mistake and the wicked smile disappeared instantly.
It's small wings fluttered in vain as a skinny hand, it's fingers adorned with all kinds of rings, shot out and grabbed the imp's throat. It gave a wimper, which was cut short by the fact that the imp was disintergrating. It looked at the mage, surprised, as it was simply being bansihed, upon which it would return to it's home in the first of the nine hells, hardly a punishment, coming from the evil mage.
But the mage shook his head, released his grip on the imp and held up nine fingers, grinning wickedly.
The imp tried to scream, but it's mouth was no more, and a moment later, the imp was banished to the ninth and final hell, to the torture of the waiting Balors.
Hurting the imp brought a moment of pleasure to the mage, but it quickly dissipated and he returned to his previous state of fright and desperation. He paced across the room once again, and happened to walk right in front of a full-size mirror, and upon seeing his own scowling visage, resolve returned to him.
"No, I am Edgard Odesseiron, and I will NOT be defeated by the mere arcane hosttower, they will NOT catch me!" He said in a strange, Thayan accent, stood straight, and straightened his crimson robes. The robes were, in truth, those of an archmage. Upon leaving his home, he had stolen them from his mother, or rather, what he had always seen as his mother. The woman actually claimed to be his father, and, in truth, in the world of wizards, you can never be completely sure, even with things such as gender...
Edgard shuddered at the thought and pushed it aside, instead going through the events that had led him to this point.
Edgard was not a reknowned mage, just like he wanted it, but that didn't matter, the hosttower knew about him anyway, and when they sent an invitation, how could he refuse? And so he had traveled here, to the port city Luskan, to see what the fabled archmages of the hosttower wanted with him.
It turned out that they thought him a mage of potential, and had wanted him as one of their own.
Outraged at having wasted time going to Luskan, only to find that they wanted him merely to increase their own numbers, Edgard declined and left the hosttower with as many magical relics as he could carry.
Of course they had noticed that items were missing, and no doubt had they come to the conclusion that Edgard was guilty, so now he had at most a few hours to flee the city, lest he would be fried, crushed, torn apart, melted, electrocuted, frozen and smashed, impaled, eaten by demons or whatever other tortures the wizards of the hosttower could think of, or perhaps he would spend the rest of his, in that case undeniably short life, as a guinea pig, figurative AND literal...
Edgard shuddered again, but straightened up and looked to where the imp had been. With a snap of his fingers and a command word, the imp reappeared, shaking violently, and quite a bit more humble. Edgard pointed to the door and ordered the imp out.
Calling upon it's innate magical abilities, the imp became invisible and floated out through the door and down the stairs, to the first floor of the little tavern, which was empty. The imp positioned itself on the bar, still invisible, to act as his master's eyes, and inform him if anyone entered the tavern. For Edgard had magically put up notes throughout the city, calling adventurers to a treasure hunt. Of course, the real reason for the notes was to gather fodder in case agents of the hosttower were to pursue him. Of course, no name was on the posters, only the name of the tavern where they were supposed to go, "The siren's lap".
Upstairs, in his room, Edgard was preparing contingencies for the journey ahed of him.
