PDA

View Full Version : Land of Landing (open)



Alchemist
06-06-11, 01:28 PM
Greetings. This is an open thread, as well as a kind of quest. I am allowing 6 players, including myself, to join in. Which means there are 5 slots open. However, two of those slots are already taken, and I will not be willing to replace them. So really, there are only 3 slots available as of this initial post. I will update this post as spots are filled, but if you are unsure if there are open spots left, feel free to PM.

[s]UPDATE 6/8: Three players joined, so three slots filled and the thread is now closed to anyone who doesn't have a reserve slot. Should any players exit, their spots will open up, and I will update availability accordingly.

Now, on to particulars:

The setting is about a mile due west of Underwood, amid the forest. An unknown amount of 'visitors' now find themselves within the World of Althanas, and they must now get their bearings. It is all very reactive, with everyone playing to their motives. In terms of goal, there is something for the 'visitors' to discover in the immediate area, or they may otherwise try and journey to Underwood.

New players can take this chance to use our entrance as their entrance as well, and residents of the world may just happen upon these newcomers if they so wish. Really, it is up to you.

So lets get this party started!

“L-little duck,” he asked his surroundings. He would not have heard reply, had their been any, as his ears droned with the deafened hum of frequency. His head shook and his body sat limp, he stumbling to his feet.

He remembered. In his daze, moments prior played back to him as though it were ages ago, for ages had they been. Falling though space and time, in a place were memory could never survive.

“Enough,” he spoke to himself, dusting himself off untangling his way out of the shrub he had landed in, “There will be none of that Juli, old boy. Not your first tumble. You’re a goddamn archmagus, you can figure this mess out. Firstly, am I hurt?”

The man looked down, his garb of the ever-impeccable dandy still in top form, the shrub that stood about him all puff and no tear. A rather self-assured smile found its way to his face as he made sure his every button, collar, and cuff was set and in order. A curious eye noted a few splinters on the ground, which made a path that lead his eye to thousands of pieces of metal and wood splayed out across the landscape just a few steps to his left.

“Well, at least I know where my luggage went.”

Walking amid the wreck, he pieced though, noting thousands of tiny metal cogs and scraps that had made the long journey to only be destroyed on landing.

“landing, you say,” the man quickly running over to two bits of wood sitting imbedded in a nearby tree.

“Planar cartography checklist: Ok, so I know the air is breathable. Absense of endless fire or one of the other four elements lets me know I am not on an elemental plane. Could be a subplane? Nope, trees aren’t big enough, and I don’t see salt, magma, and lightning falling around everywhere. New universe then? Or a domain perhaps? Maybe this is just a pocket plane then? We’ll see.”

As the man ran though his abductive checklist aloud, stood from the perspective of the two shattered wooden stakes, quickly hashing out that the dimensional door had opened thirty feet up and ten feet back.

“Shrub broke my fall. The others must still be around. Tali! Corban! Anybody? Are you alright,” he called out into the forest. There was a risk of attracting a beast of some kind, but it was a risk he would have to take.

Abraxos
06-07-11, 01:26 AM
Abraxos was hunting a wild boar and was quietly stalking in on what looked to be a boar hole through some underbrush. Abraxos had his sling loaded with a stone and was getting close, the smell was getting strong. Abraxos moved in close to veiw the hog before loosing his projectile. Far to his right came shouting from somewhere which drew Abraxos's attention for a fraction of a second. In that moment the boar darted out of the hole and charged at Abraxos. Moving and blinding speed Abraxos dodged and loosed the stone at the back of the boars neck, striking true the stone snapped the boars spine and killed it instantly.

Abraxos wondered at the shouting which had flushed the boar into charging. Abraxos packed away his sling pulled the stone out of the back of the boars neck and shouldered the dead animal. Abraxos wandered looking for whoever was making the noise hoping it was a traveling merchant of some kind, perhaps he could sell some of the boar meat in trade for some supplies.

As Abraxos came to the edge of a clearing he hid in the shadows and veiwed the man stumbling around talking to himself it was clear he was no merchant of any kind. Abraxos wanted to have some fun, he camoflauged himself and shouted at the man, "Ho there traveler, what brings you to my forest?"

Red Dawn
06-07-11, 07:31 AM
Though the days were almost the same as what he was used to from his own world, the time that had passed was hard to remember. Memories had lingered on in his mind, synthetic though it was. He could remember the warmth of the drive engines firing against the pockmarked and cracked soil. The way the scent of the dead had lingered in his nose, tinged the acrid air. A world of war, the third great war of the planet, had consumed the resources and lives of what was once called Earth. Dale had been on a ship, the Ark, a last ditch effort for the bloodthirsty societies to escape their own demise. After being put in a holding cell aboard the ship, his final memory was the question of whether a warhead would strike the vehicle or if it would find orbit. The luscious forests had found his eyes when next they opened, lost in the unknown world after thousands of years sleeping through the empty void of space.

Sobering as it was, Dale had been anything but since crashing into the world he had come to learn was named Althanas. Months of drinking ales, chatting with the locals, finding his own way in the place that would become his new home. The love of coin, alcohol, and conflict was quick to grow in his heart. However, so was learning of the cultures and customs of the people he was forced to be among. The civil war of the country Corone had been one of the most talked about aspects of the island nation he had crashed upon, and it seemed as if any seeker of coin or conflict was invited. After a month of living in the town called Underwood, at the heart of the Concordia Forest, he had found his niche as a mercenary and sword-for-hire. No amount of military training on Earth had prepared him for life without his rifle, though classical training in many forms had helped in ways originally unintended.

As an android, the man was a mix of synthetic, mechanical, and biological parts; a true innovational amalgam of the twenty-second century of mankind. On Althanas, he knew he was going to find a new home, considered a human among other humans. Thoughts of what he truly was could not be removed no matter how much he drank.

“This trip is no easier now than it was the first time,” Dale sighed as he put a booted foot through a bush of thorns. His trek to the damaged pod he had fallen from the sky in, traveled countless miles through space in, would be his last. Repairing the pod would do no good to him, even if the technology of Althanas was advanced enough to assist in the process. It had no thrusters to escape the planet’s atmosphere. Despite that, visions of his final memories came flooding back. Atomic bombs and weapons more fierce still had been unleashed in the hundreds across the entire world, if there was a planet left it was but a hollow version of what it once was. “There’s no place to return to even if I could leave…”

Instead of dwelling on memories of the past, Dale concentrated on his footsteps. He felt the bare trigger finger of his hands gently caress the soft wood of trees as he passed them. It was a sensation that he had never felt before Althanas, what few trees had remained in the war-torn lands of his creation were barren. The vivid emerald leaves hung from branches like gems on a silken string. Althanas was a world where a red dawn would not linger on the horizon as it had in his past. His head jerked, suddenly catching what sounded like a yell for assistance in the distance. The density of the part of the forest he was in masked which way the call had come from, but he nonetheless headed towards the direction he thought it had come from.

“Probably just some Underwood citizen lost in the woods, mayhaps I’ll get a reward from this…”

Jennifer Oakley
06-07-11, 07:32 AM
There were no beasts drawn to the calamity as it rained from the skies, but there was a girl. Out collecting Sarawak herbs for the dream inducing poultices of the tribes medicine women, Jennifer heard the collisions, one after another, and thought the sky was falling.

"It is going to be one of those days," the wiry and contemptuous voice of her Animus said, as they both looked at one another nervously.

"We are lucky it did not land on us, whatever that was," she looked to her right, through the tree line in the direction the noise had come from and bit her lip furtively. It was a pleasant day, and that meant that the Fae were not dancing and that the Wild Hunt was sleeping. She had grown up in these parts, and if those two dangers were not rampaging in the heart of Concordia, then she had nothing to fear.

"You are not thinking of going to see, are you?" The Faun raised an eyebrow and instinctively placed his sword hand onto the hilt of his blade. His white fur caught the sun and shone like a Unicorn's mane, until the branches overhead blocked out the rays in their gently sways, caressed by a forceful breeze.

She turned on a heel and started to creep towards the tree line, abandoning her search and beckoning for Anima to follow with a wavering palm and a sign of silence pressed tightly to her lips.

"Yes, of course you were..." he said dryly, breaking into a skip to catch up with her as she made swift and silent progress over the long lime grass and into the dense foliage, a knotted mass of oak trunks, brambles and ferns as tall as a tree man's branches. They made quick progress, half climbing and half rolling through their homelands as if they had been born animals.

"Silence," she said again, more forceful this time. Anima felt the heavy weight from her heart fall onto his as the bond they shared cycled nerves and apprehension between their souls. He kept his hand on his blade and stooped down behind a large, rotten tree trunk, felled long ago beneath the bulk of an ancient creature, and peered slyly over its brim at what lay beyond.

Jennifer examined the group of bedraggled looking individuals with contempt and curiosity shining in her eyes. They trod heavily and proclaimed their arrival not just to the trees, but to every living thing for miles around. She surmised that they were not, in fact, native to the forest, and from their strange garb, they were not from Corone at all. She keened her eyes sharply on the one that asked after others with a strange accent, and was about to rise up over the branch before Anima pulled her back with a press of his furred hand onto her shoulder.

"No...Look," he gestured to a newcomer, and when he spoke, he felt the anger well in Jennifer's heart and flow into his own.

"It is not your forest," the path finder snarled through barely contained anger, but remained hidden and out of view to watch the events unfold. She buried her hands into the damp comfort of the tree trunk, and ran her fingers over the lichen to keep her mind settled and her conscious devoted to the path she walked. If there was no danger to her own people, she would leave them be, but if there was...

Inalitalllane
06-08-11, 12:52 PM
A Star fell upon the banks North of the Nïrvätï, where the sulfur touches the sand…

The words were the first that came into her mind when her bright turquoise eyes opened. A flash of light kindled within them, and there she espied them: shining high above her in the light of the dawn, the stars twinkling in the waning night. And despite the encompassing fear of an alien world, the young woman smiled.

She lie sprawled upon the surface of a great river, drifting in its middle. Beneath her was the cool feel of the stream’s surface and the warm radiation of her inner light casting embers all over an unknown clearing. Wait.

A gasp was given as the young woman turned upon her side, her left arm splashing on the rivulets as she realized what had happened. Glowing in shades of ultraviolet light and brilliantly brazen turquoise was her body. The edges of her hair glittered with electric blues and dazzling hues of silver-white light casting sharp contrasts all over the brook. “Oh NO!” she thought, though it became audible later only as a bird’s squawk.

“Zh..Zhúlÿús!” An illuminated palm covered her mouth in horror, realizing what had happened ere her journey began. She could no longer speak the language of her friends. “Q…Qórvÿan?”

Corban
06-09-11, 05:06 PM
Was ki ra gyuss lir,
Jastil! I ga jass ciel…

Sir Squirrel was about to enjoy his newly found acorn before his fur stood on end. He smelled ozone and heard sparks. Bad things! He scurried up a tree, with his prize, before a single point in space expanded a sphere of flameless light in his previous position, the glimpses of world roads visible within. When two connected, two fell out. Corban rolled across the ground and ended in a kneel. The jumpgate collapsed and the displaced air rushed back in his face. The man clutched his chest, furrowing his brow.

“The magic flow here is diluted, allergenic.” He looked up, as if realizing something. His hand darted into his pocket and picked out a stylish piece of amber eyewear. Symbols and lines flowed across its surface. Putting it on, he looked at the largest tree in the vicinity.


Scanning…
Object: Deciduous Tree, approx 207 yro.
Leyline detected.
Error: Cannot match to known lexicon. Please update with local symbols for this world.

“Well, we certainly have gone beyond the edge of our cluster. At least some things work.” Corban took out an origami cup, and popped it open. As expected, it started to collect the humidity in the air. Before long, a shallow pool of brown drink formed. “Ah, milk tea. Even if this world is ignorant of you, I still have this--PFFT!” He spit it out. “Muddy water! What else broke?” Casualty report: Disenchanted impactor boots; robe’s anti-fire enchantment broke. Still anti-sword, though! As for Ishtalle…

He looked down at the black sword hanging off his waist.

“You’re…still okay, right Ishtalle?”
<No, I am not. Two suede gloves now feel like ten fingercuffs.>
“At least you’re a sword instead of a pen.”
<Is the air to your liking?>
“It’s like breathing high atop a mountain, and like someone dropped a rotten egg in it.”
<How elegantly put.>
“Technically it’s the unfamiliar fabric of the world that’s at fault. We must find existing pieces, to see what the locals have done. I say we ingratiate ourselves to the local lord and his treasury.”

"Zh..Zhúlÿús!”

It was heavily accented, yet the accent was unmistakeable. Could it be? Could be. "Let's check that out." In the dim light, the unnatural flaring cast ribbons through the trees. He ran as the crow flew, even through the thorny bushes. They brushed by his legs, failing to poke a hole in his otherworldly clothes.

Corban narrowed his eyes as he passed the final branch. Tali was as if someone took a bucket of psychedelic sodium and dropped it on the surface of the river.

"Tali? What happened to your body? Curses, reconstitute reconstitute..." Corban reached into his pocket and retrieved one of the six diamond spheres. Each one was a full 50 grams, a full 250 carats...and each was made by his own hand with the casualness of making dumplings. Using one of these as a focus for this earth magic, he would craft a golem for her spirit and animate it. Yes, just like before.

Before he entered this world.

Yet Corban was in for a surprise, as he felt an alien presence. The diamond began to char under his influence, its structure reverting to the nothingness of coal. Corban immediately stopped casting. The Song! The Paths! They were altered.

Okay, time for Plan B.

"...Tali, get over here. We're giving you a mud bath."

Inalitalllane
06-12-11, 08:32 PM
http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs50/i/2009/318/1/4/Gortmacrane_wood_by_younghappy.jpg

Between the ivy and the bracken-shaw, the distinct sound of crying was heard toward the direction of the river. However, it was uncouth in that it came neither from a young girl with her hands balled up over her eyes nor from a distressed damsel blubbing in the wood, but from a white-hot sphere queerly submerged beneath the current of a meandering river. Just where was his friend?

As Corban would near the shore, the water steamed and gurgled, making violent hisses while the smoke snaked up into the canopies. The flora of the embankment was swathed in crystalline light and the tree leaves looked like blades of quicksilver. Ineffably bright, light pierced the eyes like lances of starlight, but harmed none. The heat was fervid – the sort that could obliterate you in seconds – yet oddly didn’t. In fact, there was so much light pouring into the eyes that Corban’s pupils would have all but vanished. Even the guardian’s aura was eerily visible in lieu of the phenomenon. Still, the young man was unscathed – a spectacle that was both stunning and terrifying.

But necessity can make heroes of us all.

“Q…Qórvÿän?” The voice was weak and timid, waves pouring off of the epicenter of light.
Inevitably, his eyes would acclimate and he would espy her curled up into a ball blinking up at him with the look of stowaway. The vague outline of a body came into view, naked and strange - the body of a Celestial - if stars were just another kind of people.

There was Tälï, staring up at him as a child does, with wide, doe-like eyes like twin opals. Her hair looked akin to fiber optic cable and her feathers burned like molten bronze. When her eyes met his, they flashed, and there was certainly a feeling of relief when she found herself accompanied. Carefully, her glowing hand reached upward for his.

“Tämbïä dú sïvïénqæ?” It was an archaic language in every macrocosm; the voice of the Wind. Linguistics rolled off of her tongue, she speaking with many sounds, though it was understood by none. Nevertheless, her arm was still outstretched to him, her eyes pleading for help.

The soil all around her had turned into a kind of glass, though vegetation had grown to massive levels. Surreal, the tendrils of great vines snaked all over the river in that one spot. And though no fish came near, the birds were chirping up sonnets in a mood that can only be described as anticipation.

Corban
06-12-11, 08:51 PM
No sooner had Tali hit the bank that she was pelted with mud. It demanded an explanation.

“After coating, I need you to kiln it. Turn up the heat, Tali. I’ll guide the process, but my hands are shaky right now and I can’t deadlift this magic." Then he realized that he didn't understand what she had spoken...and likely she did not understand him yet. A flurry of hand gestures invoked images of fire, trembles and failed wand-waving. What he was about to do was backwards: she was the finished product, and he had to create a mold. With firm hands, he caked the living star with pieces of earth. They were two travelers to an unknown world, and he needed to tone her down. What where the politics, economics, magic power plays? Unknown. Who was in these woods? Would they be hunted?

Such was the source of his urgency. Corban murmured through his work.

The sign of a hand going from fist to knife, and a shrug of shoulders: “I can’t transform. Ishtalle can’t transform." Cupped hands blooming into a flower, and the pinching of fingers like rubbing gold coins. "This is going to be much harder for me without a living substrate to work off of.” Fortunately, that could be solved. Corban pulled up his sleeve and withdrew Ishtalle several inches from her sheathe. Such was the intensity of his gaze that he didn’t even wince as he sliced his own forearm, balling his fist to cause several drops to fall on Tali's outstretched arm.

He flexed a bicep. “Turn up the heat. It's time to bake. If it feels tight, just flex and I'll fix it." The blood and mud mixed, turning into a fleshy patch that expanded outwards under his touch. The keyword of the day was "bloom." Her skin would not be like a crystal, expanding a geometric pattern in every direction, with room to replace. No, living things were described not by their state but their flow: if he made a mistake, it would not be apparent until the living was revealed to be dead.

Good thing she did not need fully functioning organs, eh?

"Ugh...when we have time, I need to map this world's feel. I feel...sticky, and it's getting into my flow--Oops. Tali, flex for me; I think I missed a few layers of your armpit. Ah, a tear! It's spilling out!"

Jennifer Oakley
06-13-11, 03:57 AM
Her immediate need to throw Anima into conflict slowly faded, along with her palpitating heart and the spiritual cries that beset her mind. Others came, either through sky falling screams or through the obscuring tree-line, but there was soon a whole congregation of strangers in her forest.

"The Fae's forest," Anima corrected, hearing her thoughts resound in his own mind through the virtue of the link they shared. "What do you wish to do?"

She glanced up at the snout of her Animus and thought pensively about her course of action. Had she been a warrior, there would have been no doubt in her mind about how to proceed. As a scout, a finder of ways and a shaman, she was not so reckless. With a smile, she stood slowly, and climbed over the crest of the tree trunk, her boots digging noisily into the damp earth on it's opposite side to declare her arrival to even the most ignorant pairs of ears.

"Hello!" She shouted in common, tugging at her Animus to follow.

"Oh dear," he mumbled, leaping with a great surge of energy after her. His hooves left two small circles with chips in them in the mud next to her delicate footfalls, and he shook the dew and lichen which had rubbed off onto his fur in their hiding. "Greetings!" He added, removing any malice and bestiality from his voice as he trotted behind Jennifer.

Abraxos
06-13-11, 10:52 AM
Abraxos was becoming more and more surprised at what could happen around here. Even in full camouflage where none should be able to spot him there seemed to be a woman who still managed to sneak up on him from behind and even spotted him.

Gods all this is starting to irritate me, Abraxos thought to himself.

He turned and looked to where the shouting had come from. The woman who had called out to him looked rather unassuming but had some sort of, creature that was not far behind her. Abraxos kept his mouth closed about that for it was almost always better to not insult people whose skills you were as yet unaware off.

Abraxos let the wild boar slip from his shoulder and as it fell it resumed itself into a normal light appearing from nowhere. Immediately after Abraxos let his camouflage fall away as he pulled his staff closer to him in a more ready grip without being threatening.

The woman who approached also carried a staff and with the strange one behind her Abraxos assumed that she was some sort of nature mage but would leave that alone.

“Good day to you little one,” was all Abraxos could say at the moment with his surprise.

Inalitalllane
06-14-11, 03:02 PM
“Vÿäl érrä –ugh!” What had started out as innocent pleas became belligerent struggles of protest (something that could be understood in any language). “Rranthÿ—Téläth nän-er…YAH!” Mud was slung onto her with the utmost urgency and in the most absurd way: like trying to bake a pot and the kiln at the same time. “¡Q…Qórvÿän atämbïæ! Eep!”

Before long, the light of the star became quite the embodied mess. All of that empyrean glory in her celestial body was now trapped in a giant mound of slough and mud. Two bright hot eyes set their bewildered gaze onto the Guardian in a look somewhere between displeasure and illness.

But scornful gaze aside, the alien woman was bound by some sort of magical DNA. As if compelled by unknown enchantment, the mud began to sculpt itself and cleave to her illuminated frame. It bubbled and sizzled, though it didn’t cool quite so conveniently.

In the predicament of a lifetime, the girl tried to pantomime to Corban something of vital importance despite all this, but it was no good. Every movement sent the mud dripping off! Flailing appeared to be a better idea, but in actuality, was just as ridiculous as mime. Flailing white arms just sent strobe lights all over the wood, and Corban was now too far away for her to grasp his hand.

“¡Qórvÿän, Ã¥téläthrä tämbïa vréä vúndïé! ¡Thú vÿära rovÿänæ!” Tälï began backing away from, “Qorvyan” suspiciously, shaking her head with a dreadfully worried expression.

Something might not have been very safe about all this... “Näzhún Zhúlïúsé!”

Hmm. “Zhuli-oo-say…” Julius?

Where was that foppish cad?

Suddenly, a white-hot beam of light shot past the Guardian and caused one of the leaves lying on the forest floor to be rendered to ash. Oh, dear. Was she vying for his attention?

The starry-mud-pile looked at Corban intently. “…Kyän naught slough thaun. Oo-ill harrrrrrrm Qorvyan.” Trilled r’s poured out of the mud pile until they turned into something similar to a dove’s coo.

The vagrant star tried again, but her Trade-Speak was so rough that she sounded more mentally handicapped than foreign.

"Hÿélpé!"

Corban
06-14-11, 10:37 PM
"Cannot slow down. Will harm Corban?" He did not speak her language but he was good at cracking puzzles of all kinds, whether they be accents or cryptically simplistic blurbs like hers. Surely it had something to do with the burnt leaf nearby. What happens when light is bottled in a crystal, but keeps getting neighbors? The light stacks up, occupies all the 'space,' before it can take no more; that is when it turns into a laser. "Overheating bottled light seems quite dangerous." She's anxious, can't turn down the light. Might as well sublimate it. I'm getting hungry anyway.

First things first: he had to speak with her. The dire need to communicate made him dig into his memory. It wasn't so long ago that they were traveling together. She had the weirdest habit of talking to bushes and rocks, but also had the strange ability to talk to everyone when they made a kumbaya circle-- "Oh. Right." He suddenly remembered her touch-fu. Corban reached out to grab Tali's hand, finally achieving what she had been trying to do this entire time.

"Sorry I didn't think of this sooner." He looked into her eyes, which weren't hard to find in the mud mask. "Tali, I can't make you a body right now, but I can make you a cape. The cape will shield you, so you'll be able to stop being so uptight for my sake." With no further ado, he turned tail and hopped into the bushes. A minute's worth of rustling and steam later, he popped out with a mantle as emerald as the meadow grass, gilded with golden bark and dotted with ominous black patches. Although she was taller than him, it was no effort to throw the cape over her, hood and all. There were even some twig ties in front to close it, making her look like an elven tent.

"There we go! A living cape, literally! Feel free to radiate, and don't be too frightened if mushrooms grow on it. They're edible...I think." He paused, and looked around her shoulder. "This particular guy was growing underground. He looked legit." Corban shrugged. "Cape now, cry later. Let's see if the trees can tell us if Julius is around here, eh?"

Inalitalllane
06-15-11, 01:33 PM
Gently, the illuminated hand took hold of his, causing poor Corban to “Kindle” or glow. Ripples in his robes glistened and the locks of his hair danced like molten opal.

“Thank you!” she chirped, her voice still disembodied and choral, resonating over the landscape. “What happened? Are you alright?” Trying to be anything less than direct was difficult. Curiosity and fear caused her head to swim. Getting bearings was going to be exceptionally hard work.

“Sorry I didn’t think of this sooner. Tali, I can’t make you a body right now, but I can make you a cape. The cape will shield you, so you can stop being uptight for my sake,” said Corban.

“What is the meaning of this, ‘äp-täït?’” inquired she, totally distracted from her surroundings and becoming self-conscious about her appearance. Looking over her shoulder past the flowing embers of her hair, the girl saw nothing, ‘upward’ or, ‘tightened’ so she turned around a few times in a bewildered frenzy.

The little dervish dance continued while Corban feverishly worked on yet another of his quirky creations: The Verdant Cloak. At least, that’s what she thought of it when he popped out eagerly with the new cape. Of course, anyone in our world might have cringed at the thought of wearing grass and fen, but the mage thought it to be the most fantastic bit of clothing in the whole world.

Happily, the woman held her arms aloft while it was thrown over her, appearing like a gilded knoll. It worked fantastically, despite its awkward appearance, however. The earth mage had crafted a sort of barrier into the threading so that she might cool down without marring the land. After all, starlight can be frightfully dangerous for spectators, and twice as dangerous to nature if it’s not kept in check.

There was little time to admire the woody garb, for the maiden had already busied herself with the lay of the land. Unable to shut her eyes, she grounded herself near the center of the dell where the radix ran thickest. Shielding her face with her fiery hair, the cowl that Corban had given her took root and flourished. It clambered once again through the soil, intertwining itself with the trees already growing there.

A cacophony of voices whispered off of every possible surface (and every impossible one), bouncing around with indiscernible timbres. At first, they rustled like leaves in the wind, and then the noise sounded much closer to laughter before changing into the sound of twisting knots and slithering boughs. English ivy peeked out its foliage in the light of the dawn, creeping down an antiquated tree trunk and latching onto the train of her cowl, turning it into more of a trailing gown. It brought an abandoned bird’s nest also (which became a lovely brooch accent piece) while blooming morning glories grew on the front as additional ‘tatting.’ Mushrooms were splotched across the dress also, as if yearning to be little buttons.

But the most fascinating thing was the soil itself. It wove around her body until it blotted out the intense light. The soot separated and shifted itself, using only the most porcelain of sand found on the banks of the river. It smoothed and softened, becoming more and more lively as time went on. Fertile obsidian soil was used for the depths of her hair and the glossy blue of her fingernails and lips borrowed dyes and saps from petunias and hydrangeas. Ere long, flesh was formed and the old Téläthrï was her physical self again – even her token feathers were sprouting and growing quickly.

She looked odd now that her whole anatomical structure was forming in front of him: Corban would see the five sinewy spines – one for each leg; the ribbed bones shaped in just a way to mimic the meaty muscle of human legs, arms, and necks; the ethereal, prismatic sap acting as both blood and neural fluid; and the thin flesh of her alien body. Her hands and fingers were elongated and beautiful, her ears sharp and pointy little feather tufts like wings. From the small of her back formed a long and graceful peacock tail that never seemed to stop growing.

So it was that Tälï ßéntärï had been born again in a new world. Like an oxymoron, she stood there with her multi-irised eyes and her bright blue feathers, shyly forcing herself to become flat-footed so that she didn’t tower over her friend.

“Where’s Julius?”

Corban
06-16-11, 08:49 PM
Ohoho! What was this!

Corban spun Tali around, looking at her handiwork. Far from being offended at this twisting of his work, he wanted to twist the twist. He had worked the textile and she the loom. Tapping the bird nest, however, made him wonder if he should expand into retail. This was meant to be a stopgap measure, but the peacock had managed to craft something avant-garde, something that could impress even the Court. Best of all (in Corban’s mind), it was made of dirt, just like his expendable weapons and armor. He lifted her sleeve and sniffed the scent of grass.

“Hmhm! Certainly lower-maintenance if it stitches itself. Just leave it out in the sun." The mage looked down at his own black robe. It clung tightly to him, its thread deeper than the deepest night. Upon its surface were crystal fibers that ran across it in regular patterns like the circuits of a distance civilization. All connections led to the crest upon his back, depicting stylized wings protectively folding over a sphere. They were definitely not of his world. In the past, his job was to draw attention; right now, drawing attention might end his story early. "Until I feel better, maybe I should make a pair myself."

"A dress?" His sword mused, revealing her presence for the first time since the two parties met.
"That too, Ishtalle, but more specifically living armor. I shall call it...Nature's Brigandine! Throw a tricon on there that grows berries and nuts."
"Shall you keep your old clothes in a pocket?"
"Depends. I wish to make one first then decide between them. If it doesn't work, I'll sell it in the countryside. Durable goods always in demand in the hinterlands. They have villages in this world too, right?"

“Where’s Julius?" The bird inquired.

"Excellent question." Corban looked down at his sword. "Ishtalle, has anyone else Jumped into this area?"

"Expose my edge, and I shall taste," she replied. With a flick, the Guardian drew three inches of the blade out, exposing the aphotic surface. There was a pregnant pause in the air, with nary a flickering light or a sigh to hint at her thoughts. "...I cannot reach out, but I can feel what reaches me. The air carries ions, either lightning or gateway. Also metal particulates." The blade rang. "Cartographer alloy, like Excursus'. Shatter profile indicates snapping, as if cracked upon impact."

"Well that's excellent news! What direction is he in?"
"Find him yourself." Suddenly she slammed back into the sheathe, almost pinching Corban's fingers.

Alchemist
06-18-11, 12:29 AM
Its gibus whining in strain, Juli removed his top hat as he crouched besides the mess he had made. The strange glint of a metal foreign to this world shimmered up from the grass of the glade. He gently plucked a cog from the ground, and brought it to his eye.

He could feel a certain brittleness to the metal, one that had never been present in it before. As he flexed the cog between his fingers, it started to bend and fracture, narrow channels of rust and petrifaction quickly running out of the cracks. He had seen this effect a few times before. Formally, it was known as the Law of Perversion, but most just snickered at such a title. The inherently magical nature of it was out of sync with this world, and its spell form was quickly being corrupted and collapsing.

"Well, it seems my ways are too rich for their blood," wiping his brow on his sleeve, he watched the glint leave the cogs that were scattered about, quickly becoming nothing more than lead, sandstone, and feldspar sitting in the mud. They had once composed a device of such amazing purpose, he scarcely believed he had built it by his own hands. Now, they were nothing more then a few stones eroding in the wind.

He could barely sense it now, the flow and hum of magic all around him. Much like his cogs, he himself was out of sync as well. Julius knew that though he might be capable of amazing feats and wonders, in this place, his power was nothing more then academic. He would have to relearn his entire practicum.

"-brings you to my forest," was all his ears caught, his mind fixed in rapt contemplation. With a glance his eyes darted to where he had heard the voice, but quickly left when he noticed nothing. A disembodied voice speaking to him. "First my magic and now this? What is it, opposite day," he mumbled to himself.

"Haven't decided yet. Just got here," he called out.

But no sooner had he arrived, another had came upon him, speaking of 'their' forest. It made him smile, but then again, so much did today. It would be his luck to wander into what he now assumed was the hinterland of some estate or some other such protected grounds.

The smile did quickly fade when this new woman, fawn at heel, spoke of the ground beneath his feet as a faeland. It took all his will and skill to not just collapse in displeasure of knowing he had harmed a tree claimed by the fae- an act that was universally bad across the cosmos.

'Well, the sky hasn’t torn open and people are not turning into animals, so that is good,' a thought that brought a curious raise to his left eyebrow.

Glancing back to the two jagged, arm-sized splinters that now jutted from the tree behind him, flanked by splinters sitting in the grass, he looked quickly for escape routes. ‘Perhaps,’ his train of thought started, ‘I could convince them that this was a war between the trees.’ The minute they asked the trees, the jig would be up, but it generally took some time to ask a tree deva a question, so it was an option.

'That is a horrible idea,' a frown replacing his smile.

Still, he rose from his crouched position, letting his cloak billow, flapping in a gentle breeze. Flicking his hat, the gibus made a snapping sound and reopened, where it was firmly placed back upon his crown. He rose to his full height, arms hidden beneath his cloak, all his teeth visible as he forced himself to grin.

"Salutations!" His voice held a jovial and musical bent to it, and he waved a small hand at the two figures that had bid him greetings, pausing for a moment when he heard what sounded like a dead boar flopping onto the ground, "...to one and... all." He brought the same hand upward gently grasping his nose and popping his ears.

Scanning the forest again, his eyes finally found the object of his inquiry- a large leather satchel perched beside the tree. Julius took one large step backward, bringing himself to the edge of the glade and hid his satchel beneath his cloak.

“So,” he called loudly, followed quickly with bombastic fanfare to punctuate his pause. For a moment, damn near everything in the forest went dead quiet for all of about two seconds. Still, it was a forest, and once all variety of creatures realized they weren't being attacked by a wild pack of trumpet players, things returned to their usual ruckus.

“Which of you really owns the forest,” asked he, a genuine air of confusion in his voice. He had truly hoped that if his friends were with him in this strange, foreign place, and they were conscious, that they heard the trumpets play. Heaven's knew everything else in the forest did.

Corban
06-18-11, 02:06 PM
There were three main reasons to sound trumpets in the middle of a forest, and he heard neither a responding battalion cry nor the procession of musical toots; so much for armies and concerts.

"Found him," Corban quipped, grabbing Tali's hand. Woodland creatures scattered from underfoot, although low-hanging tree branches were not so wise. Try as they might to bite, the trees would not pierce through their garb, although this did not preclude gowns being caught in bushes. The smell of minerals grew stronger, and it started to taste like a mouthful of rusty spoons before they exited the trees and hit the glade. The first thing he saw was the foppish dandy, followed by two rangers of sorts. Seeing as though Julius was fine, he delegated catch-up duties to his bird friend so that he could focus on the cog-to-crumbles tragedy before him.

"Why's it crumbling?!" Corban cried, kneeling down at a pile of dust. Like a cherry on top, there was an oversized gear wheel. Soon as he picked it up, however, it snapped in two to expose its fragile innards. His eyes narrowed at the surface sparkles, watching as they were 'gobbling' at the object like a hive of termites. "...Evaporation. The scaffolding is evaporating in this air, burning through its reserves too quickly like a sponge in a pressure chamber." He flipped his hand downwards, casting the dust down to its brethren. In vain, he shuffled through the scattered cargo. Between all three of them, he did not want to be reduced to a few half-weapons and malfunctioning tea cups. There had to be something usable, anything!

"A-ha!" He cried, picking out a brass-encased power crystal. The pinch of his fingers was enough to pop it, revealing a hollow candy shell. It was not supposed to be hollow. "Diffused! Damn! It's as if the prevailing leylines are totally perpendicular and broadsiding all of our gear. I need a map. Scan Visor, take note." His amber eyewear flickered to life. "Shopping list- Stack of parchment, bag of coal, high-quality alchemy lab and access to a treasury, armory or ancient museum... "

Inalitalllane
06-27-11, 12:24 AM
Propelled by a stalwart tug and an avowal of hope that there’d be a familiar face in this forest, Tälï made quick use of her new hands and arms and gathered the kirtle of her gown so that she might run alongside Corban. The sun was rising much higher in the sky, now, and the murky greys were fading into the emblazoned hues of morning: reds, crimsons, vermilion, dandelion, and tawny golden rays that were breaking through the timbers of the tree tops.

Tip toeing wasn’t easy. It was hard to meander through all of that umbrage and soil without casualties: a crushed petunia here, a smooshed fern there, and a brier torn in two by hurried feet.

“Are you quite sure?”queried the blue bird. Her voice was hardly above a whisper, though still spoken with many notes. Cautious eyes as round as silver-coins glared at the various birds preening their feathers in the tree tops. They’d espy curious raccoons retiring for the day or squirrels waking after a long night. “They could’ve been trumpet flowers!”

As ridiculous as the child-like suggestion might sound, who knew what wonders awaited in an alien world?

Corban did not answer, but pressed onward over root and under bough, dancing around tree trunks and dodging thickets and bogs in his wake.

Tightly, he held onto Tälï – she all but gliding behind him with her gaze ever-outward. There were many questions to be had, but wonder and awe silenced them.

When at last the scent of iron and nickel stung her nostrils, a familiar top-hat came into view.

“MR. ALDOID!” The cry was loud enough that it sent birds scattering and flowers blooming. But before any one could whole-heartedly figure out what was going on, the Téläthrän maiden had sprung upon the unsuspecting Julius, threw her long arms roundabout his shoulders, and kissed him.

When the lip-lock was finally broken, a more articulate young woman took notice of their companions. Pointed feather tufts turned and twitched, picking up the distinct ‘clop’ of hooves. Eyes scrolling, there stood a creature that mesmerized the young bird-woman, but filled her with joy all the same.

“A satyr!” she exclaimed, light flooding into her eyes. “Oh! You must teach me how to do an indigenous dance!”

A graceful turn and the trail of a cool wind caught her hair. The bright big eyes now falling upon the ranger with a declaration of greeting. “Vÿälä!” chirped the girl. “Is this your forest?”

Another half turn and she met Abraxos whom brandished a wild boar like one might brandish a goblet of wine after a long night in the taverns. “Pork? Shall we carve it ere noon? I’ve awful --” her train of thought was suddenly derailed with another seemingly brilliant idea. “What is pork without honey? I shall get a bee hive from one of these…trees…”

It was only then that the maiden noticed Julius’ crash landing. Splinters and fractured wood littered the forest floor in what could only be diagnosed as an inter-dimensional dilemma.

“…what happened to all of the trees? The bee hives are missing.”

A low whistle was given.

“…you’re in a wad of trouble again, aren’t you, Mr. Aldoid?”

Alchemist
07-16-11, 12:02 PM
Just barely standing in the glade, Aldoid struck an interesting silhouette, his form shaded from the sun by his cloak and hat. He waited for response, but everyone seemed so still. With the sun rising, it would have been quite picturesque if the matter of trespassing had not been on the table. His boot slid under his satchel just in case he’d need to kick it up and make his escape. Still, he dare not break the stillness, as any act of initiative might be seen as aggressive, and open him to counter-attack measures by the strangers around him.
His wand slid down his sleeve.

“Mr. Aldoid!”

The voice was as a klaxon call, a herald of mirth, joy effervescent and rising in his heart. His eyes widened, his hair stood on edge, and the brightest smile flashed up on his face before he took control of himself, letting it fade into an enigmatic grin.

‘Hmm, perhaps a moment to prepare,’ he thought. And he went about looking himself over, making sure that not even a stitch stood out of place. ‘Now if I could find a mirror, perhaps I could hash something together and refresh my cosmetics.’ And he sought to preen himself as though he had an hour to do it, preparing for a date.

And when he looked up to where he had heard the voice of The Maiden, he saw her hovering just inches from his face, and realized that time had played a very nasty trick on him.

He caught her gently, though having to find his footing amid a catch with his left shoe being stuck around the strap of his satchel was quite troublesome. It was his focus on his poise that let her reach up and steal a kiss from him, and in so doing, his heart.

When his eyes did open again, a yearning sorrow that their kiss had been broken, he did simply let himself drift down and fall amid the shrubbery once again.

And he looked up at the sky and the clouds, and the wonder that only love can bring filled his vision, and for a moment he did not wish to do a damn thing but hold this feeling forever. For in two centuries and two score and eight years, he had felt love again.

It was with sorrow though that he rose, and with the eyes of a magician he did see the world again.

Standing back up, he watched how his Little Duck spoke with the ranger and the fawn and the hunter too while Corban spoke with himself and took council with his sword.

So it was, in that moment, that Juli knew that they desperately, with the utmost haste—had to get the fuck out of that forest before something else happened.

“Corban,” said he, there being no light and jovial lilt to his voice any longer, but instead a deep intonation spoken between mages. Saezer would recall it last used in a certain frozen desert – the world they had just fallen from. It was the sort of voice that would let one know that there was the greatest of work to be done, “ This is a faewood. We have stepped on toes. Pick a direction and go. I’ll get Tälï. Run now.”

That was when Tälï whistled, and pointed out what trouble Juli was in.

A flawless smile was given in reply, he chortling lightly, smiling to both the ranger and the hunter. When he glanced back to Tälï, his heart nearly sprang out of his chest, the fires of love so bright in them, and balanced against the cold waters of fear that poured though his bones. He was however, if anything, a consummate professional, and not even a hint of such feelings did run though him.

“Well, I think we will just leave you three to your business. Good morn and blessed be to you all,” he called to the hunter, the fawn, and the sage with a tip of his hat.

While he spoke, he interposed himself between Tälï and the guardians of the forest. On the back of his cloak, visible only to Tälï, crimson letters sprawled out in a block print, so obviously an illusion:

Dear My Dearest Little Duck,

RUN!!!!!!!!!

-Your Hatter,

Juli-su

And so, the three wayward newcomers would spring like hares back into the brush, seeking evasion and safety, leaving only oddity and confusion in their wake.

And they could live with that.


/Exit Julius, Tali, & Corban. End of thread.

The International
08-07-11, 10:37 PM
First off, for those of you who are here for the first time, Welcome to Althanas. I do apologize for the long wait, but I’m here and I won’t waste any more of your time. When we judge quests we consider them a collaborative effort thus we intend on giving everyone the same score. Notes will be given on an individual basis as needed. If you have any questions or complaints feel free to catch me on aim – constellationclt. On with the judgment.

Plot Construction 15 /30

Story 5 /10 – This category focuses on the basic elements of a piece of fiction. Beginning, middle, end. Climax, rising action, falling action, so on and so forth. For the most part we had a beginning, in which the trio of characters fell to Althanas from what seems to be another dimension. The end was when the three of them found each other. There could have been more in between. To me this seemed to be the precursor to a larger storyline. The conflict could have been greater. Concordia can be a dangerous place. Just remember next time that a thread can be a full story.

Strategy 4 /10 – This category can be easily defined as the use of the character's skills, personality, resources and abilities to construct a thread. A ten in strategy means that in addition to the story being driven by well executed character-based action. There wasn’t much for you guys to use your characters’ abilities on. This was a relatively peaceful thread, but I do applaud you for demonstrating to the reader some of what they could do.

Setting 6 /10 – This is where I have lots of notes. Ine, good job. Red Dawn, good job. Everyone else, watch Ine and Red Dawn. Alchemest, you’re on the right track in one very significant way. You only dealt with setting that was important to your character, but it needs to be more vivid, more detailed, more vibrant. One thing that I’d like to see from everyone is greater use of all five senses. There was lots of visual here and too little else. Let’s take the first post for example. Alchemist, you mentioned your main character’s luggage spread all over the forest floor. Give the reader the color of the forest floor, the shape of some of those pieces. Give us more.

Characterisation 15 /30

Continuity 4 /10 – This deals with a few things. How your characters progress and grow through a thread, and how well you use the story world to enhance your plot. This category probably would have scored better if the thread were longer, but you guys are starting out and getting used to Althanas. Later on, when you decide to get into larger quests you’ll probably do better in this category.

Interaction 5 /10 – Interaction is one of the trickier categories. It judges the way the main character interacts with the world around them, be it socially, physically, or otherwise. This wasn’t bad, but like I said with Continuity if this were longer it would be better.

Character 6 /10 – So Julius, Corban, and Tali fell to Althanas from another dimension, or another plane of existence. They can’t seem to find a way back to where they were from, and so they’re stuck. Your characters were all surprisingly composed in this situation. This entire thread should have been a reactive scene. They should emotionally react to what’s happened, they have an intellectual dilemma as to what to do about the situation, and then they make a decision. Each of these could have been more pronounced.

Writing Style 12 /30

Creativity 4 /10 – This deals with rhetorical and literary devices. This was particularly straight forward. There was plenty of basic imagery with a simile here or there, but try to get more… purple with your prose.

Mechanics 4 /10 – Alchemist, work on your syntax (the composition of a sentence). There were places periods should have been, but commas were used instead and forced me to re read the sentence. Also spelling errors were abound in some posts, but nonexistent in others.

Clarity 4 /10 – Improve the Mechanics section, elaborate more on setting and character reaction, and this score will get better.

Wildcard: 8 /10 – Good first effort.

Total 50 /100

Alchemist gains 500 exp
Inalitalllane gains 500 exp
Corban gains 500 exp
Abraxos gains 150 exp
Jennifer Oakley gains 250 exp