InkWitch
Ink-weaver and magic-writer
Hi! I want to restart this RP, going from my original opening post. Unfortunately it seems like the original thread is not going to continue due to a difference in opinions/ attitudes, and I really want to make this work.
The RP occurs in the Baldur's Gate 'verse, opening in Athkatla, in Amn. You don't HAVE to know anything about Baldur's Gate or its settings to join this, but it could be useful. I'm using it as a blueprint with original characters and plot. The setting is fantasy, as the world is purely D&D - so expect a range of races (elves, halflings, orcs, etc), magic and monsters, sword fights and side quests. I'd like this to be a long-reaching RP, so if you're not up for really building with me, I don't want you to get burnt out.
The original thread was posted in Feather Bed, under 'Collar', and I'm happy to have it there or, if preferred, to move it to one of the other fet-rooms. If you PM me, we can discuss preferences and I can get it organised. I'd like this to be a one-on-one thing, so if you're interested, please PM me.
I have a tendency to write a lot (can you tell?), and whilst I don't expect anyone to write the amount I do, a little reciprocation is necessary; two or three lines to my three or four paragraphs means I'm doing most of the work, and collaborations never feel fun that way. I apologise if I sound demanding or rude (I really don't mean to!)
Below is the opening post for my RP; please feel free to PM me any questions or let me know if you're interested!
Thanks, Ink
*****
Night had fallen over Athkatla, and a thick mist was rolling in from the river as the half-elf made her way through the streets to the Copper Coronet. She felt uncomfortable and out of sorts in the city, and longed for the peace of her trees. But there was no changing things now; she needed answers, and this was where her questions had led her to so far.
Pushing open the dingy wooden door of the inn, Meriala's nose wrinkled at the smell of old ale and sour sweat. Tugging back the hood of her cloak, she felt the bar's oppressive heat as she scanned the room. He has to be here, she thought, worried for a moment that the man with answers had eluded her. However, her keen eyes, bright in the dim light, lit on a grizzled, hunched figure sat in a corner and she sighed with relief.
Praise Mielikki, she thought, giving thanks to her goddess that she had found Kyril and that he was alone. Moving on almost silent feet, she made her way to the inn's bar, ignoring the lecherous stares of the patrons. She was greeted politely enough, and ordered two tankards of ale. Handing over some copper, she grasped the wooden mugs and made her way to the old man.
Setting both drinks on the table, she quietly spoke. "Kyril? Kyril Blackhand?" A curt nod was the only reply. "Kyril, I am Meriala, a ranger from Shilmista. May I sit with you?" Again, there was a nod, and a blackened, scarred hand reached out to take hold of one of the tankards. Meri took this as a good sign. She was unused to other people, especially humans, but this seemed to be going alright.
Before she could speak further, however, the old man spoke himself. "Aye, I know what you want. You want to know what's wrong with Elbereth's folk, right?" He didn't wait for her response, but took a long drink from his cup. "I don't know why you think I can help you, lass; I've not been west for a long time." He swallowed down what was left in his tankard, setting it down and making as if to stand.
With snake-like speed, Meri's hand darted out and grabbed his wrist. She applied no pressure, but still could feel the blackened flesh crackle slightly beneath her fingers. "Please," she hissed, suddenly feeling desperate. "Please, Kyril. I know you have information that could help. I know you've seen this before. Please."
The old man looked impassively at her hand holding him, as if it was of no consequence, but then sighed and sank back into his seat. Meri pushed the other tankard forward, and thought she saw a faint smile tug at the corner of his mouth.
"Alright, lass. I can see you're not going to taken for an answer, are you?" When Meri shook her head, he continued. "It's true, you know, that I've not been west for many years. In truth, I don't think I'll ever venture that way again." He gestured vaguely with the darkened hand. "Last time I was there, this happened. And yes, I know it's happening again. Even here, I hear the whispers and the rumours. Tell me what you've seen, lass."
Meri looked at him in silence for a long moment, gathering her thoughts. When she spoke, her soft, musical voice was low and filled with something that sounded like pain. "The elves of Shilmista. They... they've changed of late. They're attacking the human settlements without any provocation, killing indiscriminately, and then before anything can be done, they are dying." She paused, looking down at her lap. "When they die, it is painful. Their skin turns ashen and cracks as though charred, and they scream their agony to the skies. It's as though they are burning to death, but there are no flames, no magic that anyone can detect, no cause anyone can discern. And when they are dead, they look exactly as your hand does." Meri fell silent, staring at the man's hand.
Taking another deep pull on his tankard, Kyril considered her. She looked slender, but strong, and if the bow slung across her back was hers, then she was certainly capable. She was pretty, but in a way that was not too distracting, and he wondered if she had spent much time amongst others. A half-elf living in Shilmista would have to be tough; the wood elves would treat her with distain and contempt, whilst any humans she encountered would likely spurn her for her elven heritage. And yet, she had made it this far, and she had found him. He decided to trust her.
"When I was last out by Shilmista, there was something similar going on. At first it just seemed like the elves were trying to oust the humans, and we knew nothing about them dying. But then children started to show signs; a few died in the same way you described. Elbereth wouldn't talk to us, or control his elves, and so the humans packed up and left. They hoped that if they got away, then they would be safe. I thought so too, until my hand started to turn. It felt like Loviatar herself was flaying the flesh from my bones. Further away we got though, the less it hurt, and it stopped before it reached my shoulder. That's why I can't go back, you see?" He took another pull of ale, and waited for her to speak.
"I understand why you won't return, and I'm not asking you to," said Meri simply. "I just want to know what you know; what caused it, what happened to make the people like this? It has to stop, lest a war breaks out between the elves and the humans. Mielikki could not bear to watch that slaughter again."
Kyril shrugged. He didn't know what had caused it then, and couldn't suggest what was causing it now. "But," he offered as something occurred to him, "there were rumours. A lot of rumours. I don't know how much truth there was to them. Some said they'd seen a wizard in the forests, casting spells and talking to demons. Others thought they'd been cursed by drow. I can't say as I saw any drow, and I never ran across any wizards neither. But maybe you can find more answers elsewhere. Try Crimmor, maybe. Those caravans go everywhere, and a lot of the humans that left Shilmista made their way in that direction. Someone there might be able to tell you something."
The old man's voice dwindled, and he seemed shrunken. Meri knew he was tired. Standing, she sought in one of the pouches on her belt, and pulled forth several gold coins. " Here," she said, placing them on the table. "I know it's not much, but it'll stand you more ale, and perhaps a few meals. Thank you, Kyril, for speaking to me. May Mielikki bless you and keep you safe." Before the man could answer, Meri had moved away, pulling up the hood of her cloak as she left the inn and was swallowed by the mist.
Sighing in the damp air, Meri turned over what she had learned. She had faith in neither theory, although she had no other ideas. Perhaps the old man was right, and Crimmor would yield more information. It was a long journey to the famed "City of Caravans", but Meri was used to that, and began making her way to the city limits. As she walked, she thought for a moment she heard footsteps behind her. Slowing her pace, her hand reaching for the short sword at her hip, she listened carefully, her ranger skills apparently useful even in the city. She heard nothing. Turning in a slow circle, she peered into the gloom, and for a moment thought she saw a figure ducking into the shadows, but the mist was thick, and she could not be sure. Keeping a tight grip on her sword, she resumed her path, muttering a quiet prayer to her goddess to watch over her.
The RP occurs in the Baldur's Gate 'verse, opening in Athkatla, in Amn. You don't HAVE to know anything about Baldur's Gate or its settings to join this, but it could be useful. I'm using it as a blueprint with original characters and plot. The setting is fantasy, as the world is purely D&D - so expect a range of races (elves, halflings, orcs, etc), magic and monsters, sword fights and side quests. I'd like this to be a long-reaching RP, so if you're not up for really building with me, I don't want you to get burnt out.
The original thread was posted in Feather Bed, under 'Collar', and I'm happy to have it there or, if preferred, to move it to one of the other fet-rooms. If you PM me, we can discuss preferences and I can get it organised. I'd like this to be a one-on-one thing, so if you're interested, please PM me.
I have a tendency to write a lot (can you tell?), and whilst I don't expect anyone to write the amount I do, a little reciprocation is necessary; two or three lines to my three or four paragraphs means I'm doing most of the work, and collaborations never feel fun that way. I apologise if I sound demanding or rude (I really don't mean to!)
Below is the opening post for my RP; please feel free to PM me any questions or let me know if you're interested!
Thanks, Ink
*****
Night had fallen over Athkatla, and a thick mist was rolling in from the river as the half-elf made her way through the streets to the Copper Coronet. She felt uncomfortable and out of sorts in the city, and longed for the peace of her trees. But there was no changing things now; she needed answers, and this was where her questions had led her to so far.
Pushing open the dingy wooden door of the inn, Meriala's nose wrinkled at the smell of old ale and sour sweat. Tugging back the hood of her cloak, she felt the bar's oppressive heat as she scanned the room. He has to be here, she thought, worried for a moment that the man with answers had eluded her. However, her keen eyes, bright in the dim light, lit on a grizzled, hunched figure sat in a corner and she sighed with relief.
Praise Mielikki, she thought, giving thanks to her goddess that she had found Kyril and that he was alone. Moving on almost silent feet, she made her way to the inn's bar, ignoring the lecherous stares of the patrons. She was greeted politely enough, and ordered two tankards of ale. Handing over some copper, she grasped the wooden mugs and made her way to the old man.
Setting both drinks on the table, she quietly spoke. "Kyril? Kyril Blackhand?" A curt nod was the only reply. "Kyril, I am Meriala, a ranger from Shilmista. May I sit with you?" Again, there was a nod, and a blackened, scarred hand reached out to take hold of one of the tankards. Meri took this as a good sign. She was unused to other people, especially humans, but this seemed to be going alright.
Before she could speak further, however, the old man spoke himself. "Aye, I know what you want. You want to know what's wrong with Elbereth's folk, right?" He didn't wait for her response, but took a long drink from his cup. "I don't know why you think I can help you, lass; I've not been west for a long time." He swallowed down what was left in his tankard, setting it down and making as if to stand.
With snake-like speed, Meri's hand darted out and grabbed his wrist. She applied no pressure, but still could feel the blackened flesh crackle slightly beneath her fingers. "Please," she hissed, suddenly feeling desperate. "Please, Kyril. I know you have information that could help. I know you've seen this before. Please."
The old man looked impassively at her hand holding him, as if it was of no consequence, but then sighed and sank back into his seat. Meri pushed the other tankard forward, and thought she saw a faint smile tug at the corner of his mouth.
"Alright, lass. I can see you're not going to taken for an answer, are you?" When Meri shook her head, he continued. "It's true, you know, that I've not been west for many years. In truth, I don't think I'll ever venture that way again." He gestured vaguely with the darkened hand. "Last time I was there, this happened. And yes, I know it's happening again. Even here, I hear the whispers and the rumours. Tell me what you've seen, lass."
Meri looked at him in silence for a long moment, gathering her thoughts. When she spoke, her soft, musical voice was low and filled with something that sounded like pain. "The elves of Shilmista. They... they've changed of late. They're attacking the human settlements without any provocation, killing indiscriminately, and then before anything can be done, they are dying." She paused, looking down at her lap. "When they die, it is painful. Their skin turns ashen and cracks as though charred, and they scream their agony to the skies. It's as though they are burning to death, but there are no flames, no magic that anyone can detect, no cause anyone can discern. And when they are dead, they look exactly as your hand does." Meri fell silent, staring at the man's hand.
Taking another deep pull on his tankard, Kyril considered her. She looked slender, but strong, and if the bow slung across her back was hers, then she was certainly capable. She was pretty, but in a way that was not too distracting, and he wondered if she had spent much time amongst others. A half-elf living in Shilmista would have to be tough; the wood elves would treat her with distain and contempt, whilst any humans she encountered would likely spurn her for her elven heritage. And yet, she had made it this far, and she had found him. He decided to trust her.
"When I was last out by Shilmista, there was something similar going on. At first it just seemed like the elves were trying to oust the humans, and we knew nothing about them dying. But then children started to show signs; a few died in the same way you described. Elbereth wouldn't talk to us, or control his elves, and so the humans packed up and left. They hoped that if they got away, then they would be safe. I thought so too, until my hand started to turn. It felt like Loviatar herself was flaying the flesh from my bones. Further away we got though, the less it hurt, and it stopped before it reached my shoulder. That's why I can't go back, you see?" He took another pull of ale, and waited for her to speak.
"I understand why you won't return, and I'm not asking you to," said Meri simply. "I just want to know what you know; what caused it, what happened to make the people like this? It has to stop, lest a war breaks out between the elves and the humans. Mielikki could not bear to watch that slaughter again."
Kyril shrugged. He didn't know what had caused it then, and couldn't suggest what was causing it now. "But," he offered as something occurred to him, "there were rumours. A lot of rumours. I don't know how much truth there was to them. Some said they'd seen a wizard in the forests, casting spells and talking to demons. Others thought they'd been cursed by drow. I can't say as I saw any drow, and I never ran across any wizards neither. But maybe you can find more answers elsewhere. Try Crimmor, maybe. Those caravans go everywhere, and a lot of the humans that left Shilmista made their way in that direction. Someone there might be able to tell you something."
The old man's voice dwindled, and he seemed shrunken. Meri knew he was tired. Standing, she sought in one of the pouches on her belt, and pulled forth several gold coins. " Here," she said, placing them on the table. "I know it's not much, but it'll stand you more ale, and perhaps a few meals. Thank you, Kyril, for speaking to me. May Mielikki bless you and keep you safe." Before the man could answer, Meri had moved away, pulling up the hood of her cloak as she left the inn and was swallowed by the mist.
Sighing in the damp air, Meri turned over what she had learned. She had faith in neither theory, although she had no other ideas. Perhaps the old man was right, and Crimmor would yield more information. It was a long journey to the famed "City of Caravans", but Meri was used to that, and began making her way to the city limits. As she walked, she thought for a moment she heard footsteps behind her. Slowing her pace, her hand reaching for the short sword at her hip, she listened carefully, her ranger skills apparently useful even in the city. She heard nothing. Turning in a slow circle, she peered into the gloom, and for a moment thought she saw a figure ducking into the shadows, but the mist was thick, and she could not be sure. Keeping a tight grip on her sword, she resumed her path, muttering a quiet prayer to her goddess to watch over her.