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Long Game 4: Colours of War


Claincy

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Gammer was amused by all the bustling activity. She was sitting off by her lonesome at her usual spot, a small bench nestled underneath the shade of a giant fan-leafed tree -- she wasn't sure what the locals called them -- she just knew it was a comfy spot. It was conveniently located to provide a direct line of sight to the Red Salmon, and even down the street she could see the activity out in front of the Green Potato. And this used to be such a quiet neighborhood, Gammer thought to herself. She knew all too well what would start happening next. You didn't get to be her age without being able to see all the signs.

She just sighed to herself and continued her embrodery. She wasn't sure what it was going to be, yet, but she knew it was going to be her masterpiece. It involved all shades of Austres grand spectrum, using the complexities and subtleties of colour that only one with Perfect Colour Recognition would be able to appreciate.  Or at least she hoped so, it was hard to tell without enough Breaths to even reach the First Heightening. She didn't have those anymore. For now.

Edited by Gamma Fiend
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I need to join a Nalthian game. It's, like, not even a choice.

So, I'm going to play Ver.

"You want the greatest storyteller in all of Nalthi- wait, do you even know it's called that?- anyway, storyteller number one, that's me! I'm just your typical, run of the mill skaa...er...I mean dark-eyes? Drab. Right. I'm a drab. And I...scabbed my knee. I tripped, cause I couldn't see well. Cause of my dark eyes.

What are you looking at me like that for? I'm a totally ordinary person! What, you think I'm, like, a semi-immortal guy who hops from world to world, trying to put right what went wrong, I mean, really guys, come on, that would just be ridiculous, right? Right?"

(Quinn and Quillion were both angsty. Do you blame me for wanted a comic relief?)

EDIT Though, if the inept world hopper is too out there, I did have a second background/profession in mind- that of a coachman, running fares across the city and who has, through the strangest of chances, managed to score a gig as the personal transport for one of the arriving dignitaries.

Edited by Quiver
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A life, a death, but what's the gain?

For life is loss, and death's the same.

 

This Breath we take, we gain to lose,

And breathe we must, that is the truth.

 

A Breath we give, lifeless to make,

A Breath we lose, no more to take.

 

The days work was finished, and Vard sat in his shop musing over some vague bits of philosophy. It wasn't generally something that one associated with a smith, but he had always been a strange child, preferring to read books at a nearby bookstore rather than becoming his fathers apprentice. Eventually responsibility got the best of him, and he learned the art of being a blacksmith, but he had always hung on to his wish of becoming a great philosopher.

 

As he sat he was pondering over some of what Swimim, that mad rambler, had said. Regardless of the strange form his words were spoken in, there was some good food for thought amongst that, perhaps even enough for a few verses.

Edited by SirVarrock
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Elo raised his left fist in air in the universal sign of Rock. He had just finished his rendition of Lardio's arpeggio in Phygrian D. There was thunderous applause.

"Thank you, I'll be here all week, try the veal!"

"Get off the stage you mutated midget". Came a voice in the crowd.

"Who said that, WHO SAID THAT. When I find you I going to wish your grandfather was a eunuch, or at least from Pahn Kahl. I'll beat so bloody that your friends will have to pour you out of the wheelbarrow that they get you home in. Your cat or dog will finish you off by licking you to death and your wife will thank me because she won't have to see me behind your back any more."

"My wife will never see you unless she looks down".

"THAT'S IT" Elo roared. "I see you Gryff you lifeless animated squirrel".

Elo grabbed the lute stand and jumped into the crowd and swung, connecting with Gryff's ribs.

Gryff's friends piled on top of Elo. The melee spilled out onto the street. After some minutes, Elo black and blue stood victorious. He roared in triumph.

Glandia, the owner handed him is lute. "Elo, you are the Best Bard in the slums but I can't lose any more clients. Gryff and his friends account for half of my weekly takings. I don't want to see you again". She handed Elo a pouch and turned away.

Elo was disappointed. The Purple Potato had been a good gig. Glandia was fair, the barmaids actually let him talk to them and only slapped him when he really deserved it. Besides, the alliteration of Purple Potato appealed to his artistic tendencies.

He would have to find a new gig. Once his face healed.

Edited by el_warko
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I love how everyone keeps adding bits about loving colours and such into their character descriptions. I kind of hope Claincy is evil enough to make each of you Idrians just to see how you try to explain it all away later! :)

Fixed it (colour) for you. ; ) By the way, in honour of this being Claincy's game, I vote that we all include some small bit of white text into our posts.

This. So much this. I've been having tons of trouble thinking of halfway decent RP that could be Idrian or Hallandren. 

Aodan thanked the caravan driver that had conveyed him to this out of the way place, and turned to face the town where the peace negotiations would be held. It was surprisingly prosperous given its rural location on the border between Idris and Hallandren. Almost suspiciously so. That and the abundance of dyes and bright Hallandren clothing gave Aodan the feeling that this place might not be the neutral ground it claimed. Shaking his head, he hefted his travel bag, stuffed full with writing supplies for drawing up charters, treaties and the like, and started looking for the meeting place.

What had those instructions said? The delegates were to meet by a restaurant weren't they? The Salmon & Potatoes or something like that, right? 

 

There were two restaurants on the main street, the Red Salmon and the Green Potato, which told him absolutely nothing about where he needed to be going, but from the number of people milling around the area, Aodan knew one thing. He was more than a little late.

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Jeo sat in front of the Salmon, Basking in the morning Air. They didn't open until lunch, and Aili was setting up right now. So Jeo came out to view the new Customers. There were so many people about today, Young People and Old People, Intelligent and Insane, Gaudy and Drab. Every type of People. There was even someone who knew the truth of the World.

I vote we post everything in White.

"Ah Rick, good to see you, come over here and tell me more about when the Great Stick will come, and all these Weeds will be cleansed. I do Hope it will happen soon."  Rick just looked at him. Than the man who knew the truth walked by, and Rick followed after him.

 

Then a green cloaked figure appeared out of the Crowd, and sat down next to Jeo. "How is your Family, Jeo?"

 

Jeo thought carefully before answering. "They are doing very Well" Code given, code answered, it was safe to talk.

 

The man looked at the crowd going back and forth on the street. "There's a lot of new faces in Town. very few are ours. Try to Figure out who serves who. And make, Wait." Green stood up, and looked over the crowd, till he saw a what he was looking for. With a sigh, he sat back down. "Did you realize that Ver is here?"

 

"Jeo blinked in surprise, the Storyteller, that was Ver! "Oh dear, I hadn't. Do you think he's Recognized me?" Inwardly Jeo went through his memories of the previous day, when the 'master' storyteller had arrived. "We haven't been very near each other, he's been eating at the Green Potato down the Street, but I'll try to Avoid him."

 

"Good, keep an Eye on him, don't let him get killed. And have you infiltrated the, err, ambassadors yet?"

 

"Yes Sir, don't worry, I'm completely trusted. Is this anything Else? Could I offer you a Meal perhaps?" Jeo stood up, and offered his hand to the cloaked man.

 

"No no, I already ate, how do you stand this Seafood? Nevermind, I have to go. I'll send someone in a week or two." With that, and a flourish of his cloak, the man Disappeared into the crowd. Green himself visited? These negotiations must be more important than he thought. And why was Ver here? Jeo sighed, and went back inside. They would be opening for the day soon.

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Hey guys I'm back!

 

I'm glad to hear that people are excited about the game :)

Summary: Water-skiing was fun, but hard and my arms are very sore now. I had limited net access on my phone so I have been reading posts here and in the creating roles thread. I have a major assignment due tomorrow so I need to work on that tonight but I'll be able to post/reply properly tomorrow :)

 

Heh, the potato experiment was fun =) I think we should maaaybe limit white text to extra comments, making all posts white partially defies the point of hidden text right? : P

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Wyrm sat at a table in today's randomly chosen cafe (red seemed to be the dominant theme here) on his own. He had chosen a corner table. He was quite fond of sitting out of the way like this. It made him feel more secure. Not that he was paranoid, or anything like that. But he did so hate it when someone came up behind him. It felt a little rude, like they were trying to hide their presence from you.

 

He was lucky, today. Not only did he have the coveted spot away from the rest of the people in the cafe, but he had managed to find a book written by one of the Scholars. It had cost him a figurative arm and a leg though. Thank the God-King, Returned or Austre, whichever it was that had set him up with his wealthy backer. He'd never realised that BioChromatic research would be so... Expensive. And that was before he'd even tried actually experimenting with Breath. He'd have to try and get his hands on a large number of them, somehow. At least he could sell them away when he needed the money. Breaths held their value.

Edited by Wyrmhero
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Add Dyrri, the hatmaker.

 

his shop, filled with hats of different shapes and colours smell of a multitude of chemicals as well as that of the tears of edgli, few can stand to be in there for long. Not just because of the smell, dyrri is decidedly unstable sometimes, and noone want to end up the same....

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His duty for the night complete, Grim began his walk home.

At this time of night, the streets were riddled with the drunken and the Drab. Grim, of course, was sober for the night; he wouldn't want drink to interfere with his duty.

It had been a draining day. So many people had arrived for the peace meeting. Grim couldn't bring himself to care too much about all that was to transpire.

Unfortunately, he had been caught up right in the middle of all of it. The meeting was to take place right on his street, the one where the Red Salmon and the Green Potato were. It wasn't that the street belonged to him, but he felt an obligation to it. If he were to guard one establishment on it, it was his duty to make sure the entire street was safe. Some would say Grim took his job too seriously, that he needed to lighten up a bit. He disagreed.

Turning a corner, Grim saw that beggar-turned-prophet Rick lying there. Grim felt sorry for the man. Who in his right mind would worship a stick? He tossed Rick a coin regardless.

The man stirred, picking up the coin eagerly. "The Stick doth show Its divine gratitude! Thank you, kind sir! You must be a servant of the Stick?"

Grim rolled his eyes. "No, I am merely a halfway decent human being. Good night."

He moved on.

A minute later, walking past Gammer's house, he realized someone was following him. Grim continued on his route; it wouldn't do to show whoever was behind him that he was aware of them.

Grim continued home. When he arrived there, he turned around and ran in the reverse direction. His follower, clearly an idiot, was only twenty or so paces behind Grim. Grim could see the man's eyes bug out. It was too late. Grim reached him, pulled out a knife, and drove the man into a wall.

"Who sent you?" Grim demanded.

"Gaah! The master said--" The man was cut off when another jumped off of the roof of the building above them, right on to Grim.

Grim threw him off. The jumper wielded a long-knife. That wouldn't do. Grim leaped on top of the man, crushed ribs, and stabbed into his neck for good measure.

He turned around. Great. The first man was gone.

Grim didn't want to dispatch the body, but he had to. Couldn't have people claiming him a murderer.

He had thought that maybe whoever it was that was trying to kill him would relent during the peace meeting. Apparently not, Grim was not so lucky. Grunting, he collected the corpse and took off down an alley.

A draining day indeed.

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Alan reached out to touch the drab waitress, stopping before he finished the action. No reaction. He intently stared at her hair, a radiant red that spoke of a dye from a Hallendren market bought to mask her lack of breath. No reaction. He  He opened his notebook and ticked a mark under the drab column. He was writing a short thesis on the nature of drabs while he waited for the treaty to begin. It was quite fun for him,  Who next...

 

He saw a man in the corner, reading a book. It looked... an expensive book. Poorly bound, from the distant past, quite a bit of damage. From one of the scholars? A valuable book. He was sure his master didn't own a copy of that. Perhaps he could loan it from him to copy it? 

 

He carefully closed his notebook, placed it in a grey bag, and got up, walking towards the man in the corner.

 

He greeted him. "Hello there. I haven't seen you around here. How goes it?"

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A bit late, am I not. Anyway, Ben the priest/monk (depends which side I´m on) is here. Given that this is a rather big difference I´m going to wait with the details until given my alience. I kinda wanna join the RP though. :(

potato, I guess.

Edited by Edgedancer
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alright, alright, I give, I'm going to play in this one. But partially just because there isn't any sort of tin-message mechanism.

Rowan saunters into town, his bow in one hand, his recent kill slung over one shoulder. He walks up the back door of the Red Salmon and pushes inside without knocking. Once inside he nods to Jeo, then let's the boar slump to the floor. His payment, as usual, was on the counter by the door. Rowan collects it, then turns and leaves the restaurant, without saying a word.

Talking... Wasn't really his thing. He left that to other people. Like all the self-important politicians who are milling about in preparation for the peace talks tomorrow. He much preferred it out in the wild, with nobody around to annoy him. Unfortunately, he was going to have to stay in town until the talks were finished. Hopefully the time would pass quickly and uneventfully.

What we need is a few good taters. Po-tay-toes! Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew... Lovely big golden chips with a nice piece of fried fish.

Edited by Herowannabe
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Elo check himself out in the mirror. The cuts were starting to heal and the brusing had set in. Overall he was quite pleased with the look. I should wander over to Fron and see if he has some colours to dye my skin.  That would be bad as man.  The mottled purple texture would be set off if he could get his hand on some orange.  Or he could go fully white.  THAT would make the blue of his lute pop.  Yeah!

 

That reminded him, he needed to see Vard.  He limped off towards the smithy.  Maxim, one of Gryff cronies had stabbed him in the leg.  That was alright  Elo could still walk, Maxim wouldn't be using that arm for a while.  He'd been lucky that Jesry had attacked Elo when he did.  Elo had been aiming for the kidneys.

 

"Vard my brother to another mother!  How's it hanging?  Left or Right. Am I right?  Of course I'm right I always am.  Ohhh! is that my capo that I ordered?  Sweet"

 

Elo attached the capo and started playing an Old Pahn Kahl dirge double time.  Once he had got through the head a couple of times, he started improvising.

 

"Vard my man excellent work as always.  I gotta bounce, if you can't be good man, don't get caught.  I gotta cathc up with Swimim, he was going to lay down some serious verse on me man.  Thinking we should find a gig together.  Bring Beat Poetry back to Nalthis.".  Elo, flicked a couple of coins Vards way.  Then a few more. He paid extra, Vards work was worth it.

 

Elo coaught up to Swimim. Elo laid down some riffs to Swimim's verse.  It sounded good to Elo's.  But everythin Elo did sounded good to Elo.

 

"Time for some luch man, can I buy it for you?"  Before Swimim could answer Elo was out the door and on his way to the Red Salmon. 

Edited by el_warko
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Jeo looked down at the Boar Carcass and Sighed. How was he supposed to move this? How did Rowan even Carry it? "Fron, if you help me carry this to the Kitchen, you can Have that meal for Free." Fron grinned and Jumped up, Grabbing one end of the Carcass, and Together they Carried it to Aili, who looked on their Struggles with Amusement.

She liked to watch Joe being Weak. But he only pretended to be Weak, He had 7 pewter Spikes.

"Where does he get all these Boars From? I don't think they live in Jungles."

 

Joe dropped the Boar with a Groan, "I don't care where he gets them from, They're good eating, and he 's very dependable in Providing them. Though I need toask him not to leave them on the Floor, Now I have to go clean up Blood spills. Oh, Fron's Meals are free today."

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Vard gets up, and groans in frustration.  "I knew there was something I had to tell Elo."

 

He takes two packages with him as he walk out in search of Elo. After a thorough search of the town, he managed to find him, in the process of improvising a melody to some odd rambling of Swimim's.

 

"Hey Elo!  First of all, you forgot your set of tuning forks, all made of the best material, and are the best quality available.  Also, an odd man calling himself Selvar stopped by, arriving out of nowhere with a whooshing noise.  He said he had something for you, something about an apology for a recent regeneration."

 

Vard hands Elo a box of what looks like fried chicken's feet and turns to go home.

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Tired of standing around with a heavy pack waiting for something to happen, Aodan headed over to the nearest restaurant for lunch. Inside, he looked around for somewhere to sit, and spotted what appeared to be a pair of scholars discussing an ancient, tattered book. Aodan stood frozen, briefly unable to move. He recognized that book. It was one of the only logbooks from the Five Scholar's experiments to have survived the Manywar. It was also the book that had lead to him being branded a heretic and effectively exiled here. 

 

Colours. Even here it doesn't seem like I can escape that book.

 

Aodan considered leaving, but instead decided to go over, since having others who might understand something of Realmatics to talk to was doubtless better than standing and waiting.

 

Yes, someone being a Pahn Kahl in a game where they're the enemies is rather unfortunate. I was wondering if that would happen to anyone, and now that it has, I must say it's just as hilarious as I expected. :)

Edited by AonarFaileas
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Ver sat in the corner of the Green Potato, a smug look on his face as he sucked his pipe. It wasn't like anything any of the natives of this world would recognise; long-stemmed, with a deep bowl at the end of it. He breathed out, blowing smoke rings that drifted up, floating around his head for a moment like clouds around a mountain- or, well, a hill at least- before moving up the ceiling. It was starting to get packed fairly dense up there.

 

He chortled, thinking of the impression he must have made. It was the middle of the day, but he'd picked the darkest corner of the room, furthest from the windows. The shadows clung to him like... um...

Well, the shadows clung. That was what was important. That they were very clingy. Yes. Very clingy shadows.

 

Not that he needed to be illuminated by the glow of his pipe to strike a figure, of course. He managed that all on his own. His eyes were deep-set, shining with a wisdom that was beyond their years, flashing imperious when angered, and twinkling when he laughed- 

-(Yes! That was perfect!)-

with the sort of strong and noble bearing that people expected from one such as he. He'd be the first to admit he didn't have, say, a strong chin, or an aqueline nose-

-(Unlike some barbarians)-

but he was... magnanimous? Was that the word for it? Probably. He was magnanimous, a man of the people. Why, he'd even gone the extra mile in applying those infernal eyedrops to darken his eyes, so he could move more easily amongst the people. 

 

Well, okay, he used it on one eye. But who could blame him? Liquid wasn't supposed to go into your eyes! It hurt! So the other, undyed eye was concealed behind an eye-patch. It was the perfect disguise.

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First time RPing, please be kind.

 

Sart was getting frustrated. This was supposed to be a beautiful picture of a woodland duck; however, it had turned into a brown blob of blah. He scowled and ripped the page to shreds. He wanted to put his thoughts on the page, but they never came out right. He sighed, and continued drawing long into the night.

 

Note: I am a terrible artist, so I doubt my character will want to share any of his "art."

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Just to be Clear, Mr. Smart Guy, Are you Signing up for the Game?

 

Jeo waded through the Sea of wadded up Paper to Sart's Table. "Ah my good Artist, you don't have to be a good Artist in this town, If you can afford this much Paper, Surely you can afford to Commission a Painting from a Professional Yes? And Why are you painting any way? A gift to one of the Returned in T'Telir? Anyway, Do you want something to Eat or Drink while you Practice?

 

So I just Realized, RP Wise, there's no where for all the Visitors to Sleep, there's two Restaurants, but no Inn's or Hotels. If anyone else signs up, could you be a Motel Owner or Something? 

 

And When does the Game Start?

Edited by The Only Joe
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