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Author Topic: Age of the Guardians-Prologue: "The Gathering Heroes"  (Read 26828 times)
Eothr
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« on: December 26, 2012, 09:27:51 PM »

The morning air is crisp as the sun crests over the horizon of the World. The massive Eidolon, Adamant the Tortoise, lumbers along its ancient route. The sky is buzzing with activity as airships fly to and fro. Merchant ships approach and leave the docks of the shipyard; military vessels from both the Republic Honor Guard and Guardian Corps align into formations and patrols. There is energy to this place, an anticipation that can be felt across the land.

Two airships in particular, are worthy of note…

The
Torturer’s  Satchel, hailing from the unfriendly Kingdom of Angea, is a large, bulky merchant’s vessel nearly 200 yards in length. The behemoth airship sets down in the designated port, its huge girth barely fitting. As dock workers begin unloading and loading boxes of supplies back and forth from the hold, a massive figure strides out from the throng of crates. This creature, a massive humanoid with the head of a bull, attempts to carefully maneuver the maze of supplies, barely keeping the massive weapon on its back from knocking into the wooden boxes. This Minotaur, however, has the unfortunate luck of having a broken horn, thus unluckily striking him with imbalance at the worst times…such as now…

-CRASH! CRUMBLE! BOOM!-

A tower of crates come crashing down as the poor Minotaur loses his balance towards his hornless side, becoming buried beneath the boxes. A group of workers hurry over to the scene, followed by a trio of armed people.

The Minotaur is helped from the wreckage, only to face the edge of a longsword pointed at him, courtesy of a purple skinned woman with zig-zagged white markings and downward crystal-amythest hair, wearing a suit of iron chainmail with an emerald and black tabard, bearing a coat of arms that displayed a stylized griffin holding a shield up with one claw; the griffin is black, the shield is green, and the background is silver.

Her two companions, both humans in similar garb, flank the Minotaur with broadswords drawn. The woman steps towards him, speaking up in a thick accent, ”Who are ye? What is thy purpose ‘ere in the Republic? Minotaurs aren’t often without the markings of King Ouros’s Militia; speak!”

Elsewhere…

The
Kindly Traveler, a transport vessel, sets in port nearby the merchants’ docks. Its many passengers from all the Guardians disembark. Among these passengers are a light-green humanoid in a soldier’s hide armor, a blue cloaked Tiefling, and a flittering, heavily armored Pixie.

These three, inexorably drawn to Adamant by the coming meeting of the Guardians, are able to perceive the happenings down among the supplies, where what appears to be a one-horned Minotaur is being interrogated by the Republic Honor Guard. What will they do?


{Alright guys, here we go! Make your choices, speak your minds, and live the fantasy! “Age of the Guardians” has begun! Just remember to do out of character statements and questions in blue with brackets, and character speech in green with quotation marks.}
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Revenant Sorrow
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« Reply #1 on: December 26, 2012, 09:47:02 PM »

"By Corellon's grace. I though this to be a friendly gathering of sorts."

I flies toward the the gathering soldiers my wings furiously flapping. Sun glistening of my small and elegant armor. Surveying the 3 armed creatures the purple skinned woman seems to be in one giving orders. I land carefully on the rail of the ship and address her directly.

"Hello I am Wingtip, Son of Corellon my father told me of this gathering and that there would be many fine strong creatures attending. Tell me what has this . . ."

I quickly give the minotaur a once over to check to see if it's male or female. Having once been wrong about a dwarf I would hate to make the same mistake twice.

" . . . er creature done to offend you so?"
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Revenant Sorrow
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« Reply #2 on: December 26, 2012, 10:10:22 PM »

Standing on a beautifully crafted rail made of a very fine wood I stand a 1' tall. Wearing head to toe freshly polished plate mail affixed with beautiful blue runes on each shoulder one of the chest and one on each glove. One more rune is scribed into the elegant shield on my back. Lastly the hilt of my bastard sword that stands almost half my height has a small rune. I have wings not unlike those of a dragonfly a set of 4 smaller wings rather than 2 wings in the fashion of a butterfly. A small tuft of blue hair can be seen under my helmet and it's short enough that it does not appear to be spilling out the back of the helm. My eyes hidden by the helm have a greenish tinge to them. My face or at least what can be seen has more pointed chin not unlike that of an elf and my skin though well cared for has clearly seen better days.
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Eothr
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« Reply #3 on: December 26, 2012, 10:20:39 PM »

The purple woman, now quite obviously a Genasi of the Stormsoul, looks up at Wingtip questioningly, "A fairy? O' the cloth? No offense...m'lord? But this 'ere is a Republic concern. Please don't int'fere."
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GeorgeDubya
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« Reply #4 on: December 26, 2012, 10:26:15 PM »

Hearing the crash, the tiefling looks up from the orb he has been gazing into as he waits for others to leave the ship before him. Seeing the spectacle unfurling on the dock, he raises his eyebrows and glances around for someone to speak to. Seeing a young man with lightly green skin nearby, he turns and says excitedly, "Those are Republic Honor Guards. How exciting to see some of them in person in our first few moments of arriving on the Guardian."
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Revenant Sorrow
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« Reply #5 on: December 26, 2012, 10:32:43 PM »

My face wrinkles at the unpleasant sound of being called a fairy but I bite my tongue and continue on.
"I was not attempting to interfere with a republic matter ma'am. I just don't see what real harm this creature has committed against anyone."

I stop and gaze to the heavens.

"What would you have me do father?"

There is a brief but clear pause. I drop my attention from the genasi woman and turn to the Minotaur.

"My father has told me of your actions. He tells me that you have committed no sins here today. Is this true?
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Cowboy Centaur
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« Reply #6 on: December 26, 2012, 11:19:47 PM »

Vold looks around at the wreckage and shrugs he glances at the sword pointed at him, though he is still sitting on his rump he is tall enough to look at the guardswoman at eye level,

He answers the woman quickly in Giant and after hopefully waiting for an answer, he sighs dissapointedly, and with a slight effort attempts to speak to her in common. An act that is made somewhat more difficult with the old facial injury his curved snout indicates.

i serve him not he studies her strangely, human lady? No, I seek to settle an issue with him on behalf of my slaughtered tribe, if you'd point him out to me I'd consider it a kindness.

He then ignores her utterly as his jaw drops and his eyes widen to behold the tiny flying shiny before him, he rises and absently raises a three clawed hand like a child reaching for a toy behind a window, he shakes his head and composes himself, but his eyes remain full of wonder

i didn't mean to make a mess, but I can clean it up if you want, are you a butterfly? ain't seen a bug since my people left the desert for Magnus' poll, you don't speak giant too do you?

He bends over to pick up some pieces of crate, and as he does, knocks over another one with his remaining horn,
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Revenant Sorrow
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« Reply #7 on: December 26, 2012, 11:32:25 PM »

Another wince of pain shrieks across my face.

"Good sir unhand me I am no bug. I speak common and my fathers language elven. Are you innocent of any crimes that have been committed this day? And who is this man who has destroyed your people?"

Calming my self I announce allowed

"My people are Pixies and deserve to be called such."
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Cowboy Centaur
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« Reply #8 on: December 26, 2012, 11:50:53 PM »

Vold Rubs the base of his horns and looks away a little embarrassed, trying to understand the ways of civilized beings,

"my aim wasn't to wreck these.."

He squints and looks hopefully at the Pixie
"huts, no... Houses? One of these wasn't yours was it? I've pelts I brought to trade if one of them be yours noble pi- Puh..,

The word is hard for him to pronounce, and his frustration shows for a monent

"noble flying sword-wielder"


His eyes harden as he answers the other question.
the coward I search for is Nero Ouros the berzerker king, and my aim is to find his tent, challenge him, and let his carcass rot on the end of my horn. 

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sliksham
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« Reply #9 on: December 27, 2012, 02:54:41 AM »

Dacian walks slowly but surely down towards the commotion, with a confident stride and the demeanor of someone who is used to being listened to.
Garbed in his full uniform of layered cloth and thick hides, a shield strapped securely to his back and an ornate long-sword held comfortably at his hip he holds a brace of javelins in his off-hand. Holding his helm tucked under his arm, his dark eyes survey the scene and watch the interactions of the others with interest.

Approaching the Genasi swords-woman I raise my voice to be heard above the assembly;
{perception check to determine the rank of the soldiers, particularly the woman - 20}
Quote from: Dacian - perception check on arrival at the docks: rolled 1d20+1: 20

"Ho there (insert rank here), surely you have better things to be about this fine day than harassing a clumsy bull such as he?
by all means watch this ... thing.. closely in his duties around town but you cannot attribute the resources of the guard to punishing someone for tripping over, surely? Unless things here are much more, shall I say, disorganised, than they should be in these days?"
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Cowboy Centaur
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« Reply #10 on: December 27, 2012, 03:13:43 AM »

Vold sizes the newcomer up and nods.

I'm surprised i could walk at all after climbing out of that flying thing. the Bulls of the Sandy Mastadon tribe are more suited to the solid ground

after thinking for a moment and realizing he's riding a giant tortise,

or at any rate, riding something touching the ground,

thats a pretty sword, warrior.
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GeorgeDubya
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« Reply #11 on: December 27, 2012, 03:15:30 AM »

Ultime is a few sentences into a treatise on the historical significance of Adamant's Genasi serving in the Republic Honor Guard before he realizes that the young man he was speaking to has walked away and joined the conversation around the Minotaur.

"Well, that was a bit rude..." he mutters to himself as he makes his own way off the airship.

As he disembarks, he stows his book in one of the many large pockets in his robe and retrieves a clear crystal ball.

Peering into the ball as he reaches the dock, he continues talking to himself, "Alright, now to see what the magic around here knows about changing fate."

{Arcana check of 26 http://www.roleplaymanager.com/roller/view.cfm?RID=6076 for any anomalies in the area that could account for my concerns about the world's fate changing soon.}
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Cowboy Centaur
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« Reply #12 on: December 27, 2012, 03:17:00 AM »

after adressing Dacian Vold streightens up proudly so all can see him.
standing at over seven feet tall this is no difficult matter. his frame is more lanky than muscular, but his strong thick bones reveal their power. his remaining horn is nearly three feet long, and thicker at the base than a man's bicept. his broken stump is clearly broken off and not sawn.

his coloring is reddish brown around his head chest and arms, transitioning to white with red spots around the waist, and finally white with red speckles from his flanks to his cloven hooved feet. his hands are three fingered, with a wide blunt claw at each end resembling a more dexterious version of his feet.

from his appearance it's clear he's not of the breed of minotaur known to inhavit caves and laberynths, he is of a desert race, although the mastadon hide he wears on his shoulders as armor indicate he's come from a much colder mountainous region

nearly as intimidating as his magnificent horn is the five foot ivory Mace held on his back by a leather thong. it's white sheen and intricate mazelike carvings would be beautiful if not for the wicked black spikes eminating from the business end. the coloring of which are identical to Vold's horn.

his rawhide armor is molded to his body, and clearly created for him while still freshly killed, and long coarse hair sticks out from the underside. on his right shoulder piece there protrudes blunt spikes the sze of drinking cups that appear to be some kind of blunt teeth.


on his left shoulder is tattooed the symbol of the raven queen, and tribal scars primarily featuring mastadons are on his chest and arms.

his belt holds up his coarse haired loincloth, and holds two ancient iron hand axes, which dispite their age are sharp enough to shave with
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sliksham
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« Reply #13 on: December 27, 2012, 03:28:58 AM »

"The blade is standard issue for Imperial far-scouts of Nautilus, fortunate we are that form and function serve so well together."
It seems you yourself are a study in novelty, I think these fine guards are more perplexed as to why you haven't attacked everything that moves and tried to eat everything that doesn't than as to your clumsyness.
The ground beneath your feet seems more solid than some, so if you're bearings are recovered and the sword waving can stop, maybe you and all of us can be going about our businesses."
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Cowboy Centaur
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« Reply #14 on: December 27, 2012, 03:42:33 AM »

Vold stares at the warlord for a moment, trying to process all the eloquent words that he speaks forth. the phrases "guards haven't attacked," "and eat everything" are the only ones he really comprehended.

Vold Shrugs

these three mean well i suppose, 'sides, there's no honor in three easy kills

he beckons to the Paladin and slaps the warlord on the shoulder.

I'm hungry too, where can a warrior find meat near here? I'll even cook it for us.

as he walks on he sees what seems to be a cross between a goat and a man staring at a ball made of ice. distracted from the thought of food momentarily he walks over to Ultime and stares with him at the crystal orb
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