A New Experience [OPEN]

[Killian Aster]

Killian had only been walking a day or so when he ran into the building that had a large sign above: The Peaceful Promenade.

Having finally left his home in Raiaera to explore the rest of the world, he was ready for an adventure to begin. There were hints of fear and hesitation, but Killian had become strong enough to persevere. He had to, lest he risk living the rest of his days paralyzed by his past traumas. So, after many years of mental rehabilitation, Killian felt it was time to move on, to leave his parents and his homeland and explore, and to learn more of the world around him. It hadn’t been more than two days since he had left, so the memory was still fresh in his mind.

"Are you sure you’re ready for this, Kil?" Killian’s mother sounded concerned, as she was still very protective of her son.
“Yes, mother, I believe I need this. I cannot spend the rest of my life sheltered because of past experiences. This will serve as the last phase of the healing process.” They spoke in traditional Elvish.
“Yes, I agree, Rin,” His father interjected, “The boy is right, he needs to escape, to breath the air of Mother Nature, enjoy her beautiful creations!” His father, B’luth’Ol, was a very wise, albeit very animated and expressive, elf. A tall man, B’luth’Ol was childish despite his wisdom, and these traits combined made him a very fun and loving person. It was one of Killian’s favorite things about his father.
Rin turned towards her husband, “Okay, if you say so,” She turned back to Killian and smiled, “I’m very proud of you, son.” She gently rubbed his cheek as she spoke. Killian put his hand on hers and smiled back.
“Mom, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry yourself about me, I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Killian grabbed his equipment off of the ground beside him; he put his quiver of arrows on his back, the brown strap wrapped around his left shoulder, and put his broadsword, a sword handed down from his father and made of iron, inside his belt so that it rested on his waist on the right side of his body. He turned to walk out the door, but before he closed it behind him, he turned back to his parents and flashed one last smile. After they smiled back, he turned back to the road ahead and closed the door behind him. His journey had begun.

Killian was deep in thought, reflecting on the memory, when his attention was jerked back to the present; a gate of sorts stood straight ahead of his position and a sign was arched over the entrance. He looked up to read the sign, written in Common, the universal language of Althanas, which was taught even in the remote regions of Raiaera, where Killian was born and raised. He read the sign aloud.
“Underwood. Hm, sounds familiar,” He suddenly remembered looking at a map of this region that his father had finished, “Yes, Underwood is the home of that tavern. The Peaceful Prom…uh, Prim…” He paused for a second to think, “…Damn.” He had gone blank, as he hadn’t looked at that map for quite some time now. He finally continued his walk, as he had stopped to read the sign, and began looking around once he passed through the large gate. Only after a few seconds, his eyes ran across a building with a rather large sign hanging off of the wall: The Peaceful Promenade.

There it is.

He made his way to the tavern, a place he used to dream about one day visiting, and entered the swing doors. He looked around for a second, his height allowing him to see most of the room from the entrance. He was indeed very tall, standing at about 6’6”, with a rather lean body frame. An elf who, despite being 140 years old, still held the face of a young human male, Killian felt a little out of place at first. But, he quickly quelled his anxiety and noticed an empty table near where he was standing. There were plenty of empty tables near the middle of the room, but he feared that it would get crowded in that spot and his claustrophobia would be agitated, and he tried to avoid that as much as possible. He made his way to the table, passing by a couple of people as he walked towards it, and took a seat. He had to pull the chair out a bit and sit sideways, as the table was a bit too low for his legs to fit. He continued looking around, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the mass of people that populated the tavern. There were so many people, he felt as if there was no way to meet anybody. But, he had to try and make some acquaintances; there was no way Killian could expect to get anywhere in a town this big without knowing anyone. The waitress came over and took his order: a glass of ice-cold water. When she returned with his drink, he sat at his table at the front of the tavern and slowly scanned the room as he sipped his water, chewing the small pieces of ice that escaped the cup into his mouth.

[Arsenic Ruin]

It started with a gust of wind; it always does now days. The fresh crisp breeze blew forth from the west along the ground, bending blades of grass to its will, while fluttering the cloak that so gallantly dressed the slender form of a hooded figure. The bloody red color, made him stand out a bit as he trailed through the dead blackened forest that was his conduit to his destination. Wind carried leaves danced around him, each of a different hue from the reddish brown, to the yellowish red. Wisps of dirty blonde hair broke free of the shadow like bondage, that darkened his facial features, what was visible were the strands that managed to meander from the shadow of the hood, as well as the lower part of his face. Young features, gave way to an age no older than about 19. His sword bumped at his side, and the shoulder plate, which was, loosely fastened with strapping and such; caused a small lump in the definition of his right shoulder, under the cloak, his right hand gripped the scabbard of the sword tightly to remedy the slapping of the weapon against his leg.

Two years ago, he was without much if any field combat experience. Was it really two years? Being without a calendar for sometime, he was hardly able to keep track of time. His face ridden with light stubble, two identical marks trailed from just under the cheekbone down to the angle of the jaw on both sides marked him as Arsenic the Wandering Knight. Marks that started at the beginning of his half drowish puberty, a late bloomer some had said. However, he didn’t attempt to make up for lost time though. Arsenic’s focus was elsewhere, the Peaceful, it was the name he gave it to remember it better. It was as if he were on a stroll through his own backyard. Weight carefully shifted from one leg to the other, while the cloak swayed behind him with each step. Soon he emerged from the forest; branches clung to his cloth outer covering, and to an extent almost ripped it.

Even with the slight snag he managed to break himself away from the forest, his eyes scanned the horizon, and at the horizon is where he could almost see The Peaceful Promenade in the distance. His journey would be short lived, and with his luck, he would be off on another quest within a few hours. Experience? By all technicalities, he didn’t need it, even still the experience he needed couldn’t be gained from the Promenade. Nevertheless, there was one thing that the Promenade usually had an abundance of, dependable partners. In his personal experience, he had seen a myriad of companionships that started out at the Promenade, but with his recent trips, there wasn’t much there to offer. So yet again, he made his trek from Alerar, from the confined spaces of his mother’s home where he spent his time of rest, where he indulged in frequent fights with his father and Teacher to come to the Promenade in hopes to find someone to cover his back during quests, and or even tournaments if it were allowed.

So as he breached the doors of the Promenade he was immediately greeted by a waitress, he knew her by name and face, so he called her by what name he was given. Her greeting was a simple hello, which gave away more than anyone could initially pick up. She knew why he was here, and thus supplied him with enough information on prospects each time he entered. Her eyes strayed, and naturally he followed with his own, to the ice chewing elf that was at the front. With a muttered “Thank you,” He bid her adieu, sure footing lead him to the table of his most likely future companion. Sitting down he kept the hood over his face, placing both hands on the surface of the table looking to the spiral age rings.

Eyes traced what his fingers dare not to, for the sake of not appearing bored with the conversation he hoped to start.


“New around these parts?”


The words tumbled out of his mouth, so smooth like water pouring down a babbling brook. His eyes shifted up momentarily, it wasn’t like they would be seen or anything but as quickly as they glanced up to see the expression on his table-mates face they returned back to trace the age-spirals.

[Killian Aster]

It had been only a couple of minutes, but Killian was beginning to feel as if coming into the tavern was the wrong choice. He continued chewing his ice and looking around the tavern. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, he wasn’t even sure he was actually looking for anything; his gaze was one of confusion. Looking away for only a split second, when his eyes returned to the table at which he sent, he saw a hooded figure sitting across from him. His confused look turned to one of bewilderment, as he had not heard, seen, or even sensed the figure sit down. He tried getting a glimpse of the figure’s face, but it held its face down, hood pulled down to hide its face. The only visible features were the figure’s chin and not but a couple of strands of blonde hair. Killian then tried scanning the rest of the figure, but its cloak was hiding any clues as to its identity.

What is he hiding?

Killian had a feeling this person meant him no harm, but, as he had learned previously in his life, nobody was to be trusted in this treacherous world. There were many evils that existed in the heart of man, and Killian had fallen victim to it once before, and vowed to never let it happen again. He rested his right hand on the handle of the broadsword that lay on his waist. He would try to avoid confrontation, but was ready for anything at this point. Looking down at the table, Killian finally noticed the figure’s hands were resting on the table. Before he could study them, however, the sound of a voice broke his concentration.

“New around these parts?”

The words floated from the darkness within the cloak; the voice sounded human, but Killian was not too sure. He was startled a bit, nonetheless, as he had prepared himself for trouble; the greeting seemed completely platonic. The hooded figure shifted upwards for just enough time for Killian to catch a glimpse of his eyes.

Human, just as I thought, though there seems to be something different about this one.

However, Killian did not let his guard down; he kept his hand on his sword as he responded.

“Uh, yeah, I am. The name’s Killian.”

Killian kept his gaze on the man who sat in front of him, who was still hiding under his hood, facing down towards the table. Killian’s head tilted as he studied the figure, or rather, his body language, trying to determine his purpose or motives. He moved his glance back to the figure’s hands, and took some time to study them. The skin seemed smooth, their complexion pale. The knuckles revealed experience, though it didn’t seem to appear as much, as the skin was only just beginning to wear. They were bigger and less softer than those of an average female human’s hands, suggesting that this was a human that sat in front of him. There wasn’t much else Killian could infer from the hands, with the exception that this person, whoever it was, was younger, though not a child. Absorbing this within a few seconds, Killian continued the dialogue.

“So, uh, what about you? Are you new here as well?”

His hand never left the sword, but Killian had decided this would be a peaceful encounter. He wasn’t completely confident, but he was attempting to start a conversation with the figure in front of him. If things went well, Killian would have a partner, and things turned sour, he could hold his own. But, despite his suspicions, he had a feeling this would be nothing short of a great opportunity. The lack of experience on the man’s knuckles led Killian to believe that he had around the same amount of travel experience as Killian, which meant they could learn from each other’s mistakes and grow at a faster rate than if they were separate. Despite this, Killian quickly replaced his naïve excitement with a suspicious mind, staying on alert for any signs of a threat.

[Bearded Gnome]

Busting through the tavern door with a flourish, the large dwarven behemoth made his way to the bar. He didn't know why, but this day, agitation was set in his limbs. Climbing up a stool and sitting hunched over the bar, elbows planted firmly and head dangling low. Barely a mumble he said, "Get me a pint o' yer best ale." The barkeep, who was walking over to the burly dwarf, nodded (although Rathmar did not see the movement) and went to retrieve the mug.

It felt as if all eyes were on the lone figure, a dwarf might not be the most common occurrence in the tavern. The men were chattering amongst themselves, trying to figure the dwarf out. One man, mesmerized by the dwarf's shining scale mail and threatening weapons hanging from his back, bravely walked over to the dwarf. With an outstretched hand, the man slowly inched his fingers closer to the dwarf's gleaming, yet blood-stained, axe.

"Ye touch it, ye die." The dwarf somberly commented, as if reading the man's mind and preventing his approach. The man stood stunned for several seconds. He quickly retracted his still floating hand, noticing it after a quick contemplation.

"My apologies," he replied. "We don't get many dwarves or chances to see such fine craftsmanship around here. My name is Liam." He sent forth his hand once again expecting the dwarf to turn and face him, but he did not.

"Thank ye for the compliment," said Rathmar, "but I'm not in the talking mood. So just be on yer way." The kind-hearted dwarf nearly scoffed at himself when realizing the tone in which he spoke. Even when trying to be rude, the dwarf was still polite - if only slightly.

The barkeep arrived then with his pint of ale and set it on the bar in front of the dwarf. Liam looked back to his friends, all of them shrugging and silently urging him on. The man took a deep breath and continued, "We don't ask for much, good dwarf, just a few tales from the road of an adventurer."

After taking a large gulp, Rathmar gave a resigned sigh and said, "You don't want to be hearing me tales." He looked into the mug and into the depths of his ale. The screams echoed in his mind. The fires reflected off the brown liquid as it slowly settled.

"But we live the life of simple farmers," Liam pleaded. "I'm sure any tale would suffice."

"Be on your way," Rathmar countered, and after interrupting Liam after he began to protest he reiterated, "Be on your way."

No sounds came from Liam then. Just the sound of footsteps as Liam and his friends began to surround the burly dwarf. And with mug in hand, the dwarf captain slowly turned to face them.

((Don't interract with me just yet. I have more plans for this that I'll continue in my second post.))

[Arsenic Ruin]

Hm...


The other elf watched him, it wasn’t that he looked up; rather it was that nagging feeling you get when you know someone’s eyes are on you. He persisted with his circular drawings of the age rings in the wood. Killian attempted to see through the darkly cast shadow of the hood, Arsenic picked up on it as his table side compadre’s weight shifted forward toward him. But alas introductions were yet to be over, so why draw the hood back just yet? As conversation took a brief pause, he counted the number of seconds that it took for a response; it generally took a matter of three seconds to formulate a response to such a simple question. Not only was there a hesitation there was also a filler, the stammering “Uh” that dribbled from the elves lips only further spread the smirk on Arsenics face to a smile.

His hands were placed flat against the table; he didn’t reach for a weapon or any such items, for it wasn’t customary to greet one that appeared harmless in a threatening manner. So as the elf reached for his sword, Arsenic already knew that the former seemed threatened. It was then that he immediately correlated his hesitation to his defensive manner, figuring both come from a past experience that has taken much of a hold on him even now. So by flattening his hands on the table, Arsenic hoped to make a gesture of “I bring you no harm.” However, to further implement that point, he reached to his side slowly pulling his sword from his side after he unlatched the scabbard from his hip. Arsenic pulled the weapon up as a whole to display it for his hopefully elvish friend, before clearing his throat.

But, before he could introduce himself, there was in fact another question this pointy eared wanderer had to ask.


“So, uh, what about you? Are you new here as well?”


Arsenic’s head rose slightly, he halfway looked at Killian as he scoffed lightly, only to answer his question.


“I have been here countless times, actually I am just making my rounds before I am off to travel once again. Ironically enough I am looking for a partner to help me continue my endeavors with. Traveling alone can become a bothersome task for a social butterfly as myself.”


Arsenic brought his right hand back to the lip of the hood, and pulled the hood back away from his face. Dirty blondish brown hair fell forward, the back end pulled into a ponytail. A young face welcomed the Elf with a smile, as he spoke again.


“I am Arsenic Ruin, Junior Knight pleasure to meet you Killian. Pardon my lack of introduction and the hood.”

[Necrofim]

The morning is nice and cool, its my fifth day in these god forsaken woods. I spot a villiage. I make my way to it. I have been looking for a place called Peaceful Promenade. I have finnaly found it.

I walk in the doors and say "It's about damn time."

Everyone stops what they are doing and stare. I make my way to the bar my armor clinking while I am walking. I sit down and tell the bartender to get me something strong. In the meantime a peasant walks up and tries to get my information. I scared him off when I pulled out my blade. The bartender gets me a drink and its about time. I hadn't had anything to drink since three days before when I had come to a river. I drink that alchol with pleasure. I notice a human and another elf about to get into it and they stop. The human pulls off his hood to reveal his face. I sit there and laugh.

"Hehehehehe," I look at the human and ask "Hey boy! I'll go along with you. I have been looking for a damn adventure. I came here in hope of being able to get one."

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been siting for over a month and a half. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another admin and they will be able to move it for you back to the Peaceful Promenade.