//MAKE SURE TO READ THIS POST FIRST BEFORE REPLYING: http://www.rprepository.com/community/forumthread.php?t=35655&p=2#3353440
The Ruins of Malorum were in complete contrast to that of the rest of Pericula or at least most of it. Instead of bright emerald forests or tall rocky mountain, Malorum was filled with nothing but sediment. Old rock formations were scattered across the Ruins. Not a creature was spotted for miles except the occasional Slugworth Rat, with its hairless back, revolting chubby face, small but sharp fangs that were partially curved, and a curly, pig-like tail.
It was only at the end of the Ruins, closer to the uncharted lands than anything else, was an ancient, dark castle that towered over everything else around it. On the outside, it appeared to be deserted...but on the inside, activity was thriving. Weapons of steel were being mass-produced and given to the infantry that made up the frontlines of the army. Soldiers (mostly skeletons and zombies with flesh literally hanging off of their bones) were training in what little time they had until the invasion, and Isemon the Corrupted, at the top tower of the gloomy castle,was preparing for war.
the Necromancer, deep in contemplation heard steep footsteps causing a loud creek in the spiral stairway, which interrupted his flow of though. "What is it?" the sorcerer demanded, and he heard someone race up the stairs. It was a human male, age of around 37 to 45. One of his grand generals. "Sir," the general inquired of the necromancer, panting from the sprinting on so many stairs. "Our troops are-" he paused for breath, "troops are prepared to attack the kingdom of Forta on your command."
"Good," the overlord announced with pride and arrogance lining his otherwise cold tone of voice. "Send your troops when ready." With a salute, the general turned, but before he moved back to the bottom of the castle, he scoffed in tire and leaped forward, intending to get down faster. This gave Isemon a short time for thought before the cries of the undead soldiers would be loud enough to temporarily deafen those in plot.
He had finally done it. Years of planning had paid off. Pericula was his before the citizens who dwelt there even knew it.
//It doesn't particularly matter who replies first, as long as there is a sense of orderly posting. Hope this RP works out as a great work of art in the long run.
The Ruins of Malorum were in complete contrast to that of the rest of Pericula or at least most of it. Instead of bright emerald forests or tall rocky mountain, Malorum was filled with nothing but sediment. Old rock formations were scattered across the Ruins. Not a creature was spotted for miles except the occasional Slugworth Rat, with its hairless back, revolting chubby face, small but sharp fangs that were partially curved, and a curly, pig-like tail.
It was only at the end of the Ruins, closer to the uncharted lands than anything else, was an ancient, dark castle that towered over everything else around it. On the outside, it appeared to be deserted...but on the inside, activity was thriving. Weapons of steel were being mass-produced and given to the infantry that made up the frontlines of the army. Soldiers (mostly skeletons and zombies with flesh literally hanging off of their bones) were training in what little time they had until the invasion, and Isemon the Corrupted, at the top tower of the gloomy castle,was preparing for war.
the Necromancer, deep in contemplation heard steep footsteps causing a loud creek in the spiral stairway, which interrupted his flow of though. "What is it?" the sorcerer demanded, and he heard someone race up the stairs. It was a human male, age of around 37 to 45. One of his grand generals. "Sir," the general inquired of the necromancer, panting from the sprinting on so many stairs. "Our troops are-" he paused for breath, "troops are prepared to attack the kingdom of Forta on your command."
"Good," the overlord announced with pride and arrogance lining his otherwise cold tone of voice. "Send your troops when ready." With a salute, the general turned, but before he moved back to the bottom of the castle, he scoffed in tire and leaped forward, intending to get down faster. This gave Isemon a short time for thought before the cries of the undead soldiers would be loud enough to temporarily deafen those in plot.
He had finally done it. Years of planning had paid off. Pericula was his before the citizens who dwelt there even knew it.
//It doesn't particularly matter who replies first, as long as there is a sense of orderly posting. Hope this RP works out as a great work of art in the long run.
Sin wrote:
(Okay okay Im all ready to go!!)
//Great! You can go ahead and send an IC reply.
Sin watched the proceedings of war with little interest. When would they learn? Bloodshed always started and ended with more bloodshed and hatred, a never-ending cycle of hatred and pain. Sin tutted from onto of a rock outcropping. It really was boring here, and everywhere.
Magic worked in strange ways and at times, it overlapped with other worlds. One such world was Gathero's. The recent war he had gone through had left the soldier somewhat shell shocked and adjusting to civilian life had been difficult. Even with his skills as a doctor, he found it difficult to manage day to day. They may have had won and Lincoln was now the president but things weren't all that smooth sailing for Gathero.
He travelled in a wagon, carrying what food and ammunition he had along with his surgical tools pulled by Old Sally, a feisty palomino mare. At night when he slept, she nuzzled him when he had his night terrors, waking him up and bringing him back to reality.
The change in scenery as he crossed worlds had been abrupt. One moment it was the wild open prairie, next he was in a forest near Forta.
"What in the world?" He muttered as he pulled Sally to a stop. Getting off his seat, he travelled backwards where he had been, only to find that it was just a forested path. The coyote's brows furrowed as he realised he wasn't in Kansas anymore. Sally let out a worried whinny... then chomped the grass nearby.
Tasted good to her so all was well in the horse's mind.
Gathero stood there a little stunned before he cussed up a storm, wondering if he had crossed the grave of an Indian tribe or something and was cursed for it. This land was unfamiliar. After the slight tantrum, he gave a sigh. Well at least there was a road.
Getting back onto the wagon's seat, he kept his Winchester close to him, ready to be used in any event. This was a strange land indeed and the coyote did not like how odd it smelled. Still he was here and there was nothing he could do about it for now.
"Come on Sally," he said before clicking his tongue, heading down the road at which he hoped would lead to a town... or somewhere where he could find someone sapient to talk to. Hopefully they wouldn't run screaming away from seeing an anthro coyote.
He travelled in a wagon, carrying what food and ammunition he had along with his surgical tools pulled by Old Sally, a feisty palomino mare. At night when he slept, she nuzzled him when he had his night terrors, waking him up and bringing him back to reality.
The change in scenery as he crossed worlds had been abrupt. One moment it was the wild open prairie, next he was in a forest near Forta.
"What in the world?" He muttered as he pulled Sally to a stop. Getting off his seat, he travelled backwards where he had been, only to find that it was just a forested path. The coyote's brows furrowed as he realised he wasn't in Kansas anymore. Sally let out a worried whinny... then chomped the grass nearby.
Tasted good to her so all was well in the horse's mind.
Gathero stood there a little stunned before he cussed up a storm, wondering if he had crossed the grave of an Indian tribe or something and was cursed for it. This land was unfamiliar. After the slight tantrum, he gave a sigh. Well at least there was a road.
Getting back onto the wagon's seat, he kept his Winchester close to him, ready to be used in any event. This was a strange land indeed and the coyote did not like how odd it smelled. Still he was here and there was nothing he could do about it for now.
"Come on Sally," he said before clicking his tongue, heading down the road at which he hoped would lead to a town... or somewhere where he could find someone sapient to talk to. Hopefully they wouldn't run screaming away from seeing an anthro coyote.
Sin looked idly from the hight outcropping, closing his eye as the wind caressed his face. He wondered what his purpose was, wandering around here. He was stuck in a limbo of wanting to live, and wanting to die. For now, he seemed content just to sit and watch.
Sin gazed at the soldiers preparing weaponry. It wasn't too bad of quality.
Maybe he could grab a few blades.
Sin gazed at the soldiers preparing weaponry. It wasn't too bad of quality.
Maybe he could grab a few blades.
Deep in the woods of Mirora, a tiny, brown creature was weaving and bobbing its way among the trees. His large, fluffy tail flowed behind him as he sprinted through the tightly intertwined branches. His little heart thumped with fear and adrenaline, but he did not slow, and kept running as fast as his short legs could carry him. Finally, the squirrel arrived at his destination: a huge clearing in the forest, inhabited by many a strange animal. The rodent ducked around the limbs and tails of other, larger creatures, making his way through the cacophony of baying, hooting, and growling, finally reaching the center of the area.
Before it stood a towering golden dragon, with mighty horns creating a wicked halo about her head. Her small face was tilted skyward, watching as the first of the stars winked down at her. The dragon, a queen in every aspect, puffed a plume of mist into the air as the squirrel skittered onto one powerful foot, avoiding the claws which were many times bigger than it. The queen bent her slender neck and brought her head down to the level of the breathless squirrel, and in as quiet a voice as she could manage (for the squirrel's benefit), she spoke:
"Hello, little creature, my swift messenger. Have you brought momentous news?"
The squirrel took a deep breath before chattering: "Yes, Your Majesty, some crucial news that I ran far to deliver; I hid in the Ruins of Malorum--" he whispered the name, and Sholtari's dignified ears flicked back in surprise; "--and I learned that Isemon the Corrupted, who was rumored to exist, really is alive, and he has a powerful army at his side, and he's bringing war to Pericula, and his ranks of soldiers are marching this very minute! I couldn't determine where they're going, but I know that they who face these undead warriors have a tough battle on their hands, and the good and true forces of this world will be tested to their limits!" The squirrel stopped and put his paws on his hips, bent over and panting.
Sholtari glared at something in the distance, her thoughts churning. At length, she growled, "Thank you for your services, messenger. You may rest until further notice." The squirrel executed a graceful bow and leaped off the queen's foot, who continued to contemplate for a moment, before turning to a large tiger, her second-in-command, beside her, and murmuring, “We must prepare Mirora for war.”
Before it stood a towering golden dragon, with mighty horns creating a wicked halo about her head. Her small face was tilted skyward, watching as the first of the stars winked down at her. The dragon, a queen in every aspect, puffed a plume of mist into the air as the squirrel skittered onto one powerful foot, avoiding the claws which were many times bigger than it. The queen bent her slender neck and brought her head down to the level of the breathless squirrel, and in as quiet a voice as she could manage (for the squirrel's benefit), she spoke:
"Hello, little creature, my swift messenger. Have you brought momentous news?"
The squirrel took a deep breath before chattering: "Yes, Your Majesty, some crucial news that I ran far to deliver; I hid in the Ruins of Malorum--" he whispered the name, and Sholtari's dignified ears flicked back in surprise; "--and I learned that Isemon the Corrupted, who was rumored to exist, really is alive, and he has a powerful army at his side, and he's bringing war to Pericula, and his ranks of soldiers are marching this very minute! I couldn't determine where they're going, but I know that they who face these undead warriors have a tough battle on their hands, and the good and true forces of this world will be tested to their limits!" The squirrel stopped and put his paws on his hips, bent over and panting.
Sholtari glared at something in the distance, her thoughts churning. At length, she growled, "Thank you for your services, messenger. You may rest until further notice." The squirrel executed a graceful bow and leaped off the queen's foot, who continued to contemplate for a moment, before turning to a large tiger, her second-in-command, beside her, and murmuring, “We must prepare Mirora for war.”
Sin easily slipped into the window of the castle of Malorum, into the room where the blades were being crafted. Fro anyone else, it could have been considered suicide. But not for Sin, he knew what he was doing.
For the most part anyways.
Sin walked up to one of the craftsmen.
" How much for some daggers?"
For the most part anyways.
Sin walked up to one of the craftsmen.
" How much for some daggers?"
A girl stalked through the deep forest of the land, near the ruins of Malorum. Her eyes a bright blue as they glanced back a forth between the trees. She looked human, save for a long, black demon tail. She had heard roamers of a huge undead army, and looked for proof of her own. She was never one to believe in just what she was told. She soon came to the edge of the trees, and leaped into the lower branches. She then climbed as high as she dared, stopping on a branch the she wasn't fully sure would hold her weight. Her eyes then grazed over the vastness of the undead army, causing her jaw to drop. Umbra had never seen a gathering of anything so large, the land indeed was going to war.
The army of Mirora had assembled.
There weren't many fighters, but each had the heart of a lion, from the littlest mouse to the burliest forest elephant. Across the huge expanse of trees, forges had been built, creating diverse selections of combat tools for every animal--horn spikes, back armor, wing blades, tail darts, and many other intriguing armaments; so many I won't list them all. The soldiers had gathered in the clearing, and there was a mass cheer and shaking of equipment as Sholtari, in all her splendor, appeared from the woods. She raised her head for silence, and when they had no effect, she let loose a mighty roar and beat her wings against the sky. Finally the clamor calmed down, and she called across the colorful sea of faces:
"I see that the power of Mirora is great!" Her phrase was followed by scattered yells of support and excitement, which the queen ignored. "The evil forces of Malorum cannot corrupt our genuine ways, nor drown the good that lies in every soul! My faithful warriors, march forth to Forta and defend the helpless there! If we arrive too late, we must follow the tracks of the undead armies, and stop them before they slaughter thousands. Are you ready?!"
The intense screeching, howling, and deep roars of the crowd nearly deafened Sholtari, and she smiled at the enthusiasm displayed by her troops. Oh, she wasn't fooled by war, and she knew of the great losses and grief that would come to them. But for now, she could enjoy the passion of her people, and relish this day in the forest. Her hopes of returning to this peaceful home were high, but such were the risks of battle; her final moments in Mirora that day could very well be her last.
At her piercing bugle, the army began to march.
There weren't many fighters, but each had the heart of a lion, from the littlest mouse to the burliest forest elephant. Across the huge expanse of trees, forges had been built, creating diverse selections of combat tools for every animal--horn spikes, back armor, wing blades, tail darts, and many other intriguing armaments; so many I won't list them all. The soldiers had gathered in the clearing, and there was a mass cheer and shaking of equipment as Sholtari, in all her splendor, appeared from the woods. She raised her head for silence, and when they had no effect, she let loose a mighty roar and beat her wings against the sky. Finally the clamor calmed down, and she called across the colorful sea of faces:
"I see that the power of Mirora is great!" Her phrase was followed by scattered yells of support and excitement, which the queen ignored. "The evil forces of Malorum cannot corrupt our genuine ways, nor drown the good that lies in every soul! My faithful warriors, march forth to Forta and defend the helpless there! If we arrive too late, we must follow the tracks of the undead armies, and stop them before they slaughter thousands. Are you ready?!"
The intense screeching, howling, and deep roars of the crowd nearly deafened Sholtari, and she smiled at the enthusiasm displayed by her troops. Oh, she wasn't fooled by war, and she knew of the great losses and grief that would come to them. But for now, she could enjoy the passion of her people, and relish this day in the forest. Her hopes of returning to this peaceful home were high, but such were the risks of battle; her final moments in Mirora that day could very well be her last.
At her piercing bugle, the army began to march.
Gathero wrote:
[Is this still going on?]
Gathero wrote:
[Is this still going on?]
(I mean I don't know I mean I'm keen but owner of thread has not replied at all o.o
Gathero wrote:
(I mean I don't know I mean I'm keen but owner of thread has not replied at all o.o
maybe if we just keep posting random stuff, they'll see it on their threads, and remember that this is still kind of happening?
(Should I msg them?)
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