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Ralphie the Traveller Captain
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 Posted: Tue Dec 11, 2007 4:34 pm
Here are prompts for the Latent Traveller drawn by Chayset. Choose one and fill it out. Within the next day or so, someone on the staff will read it. Checked back and look to see if your prompt has been approved.
One
It has come time to select your alignment. You have heard the strong words of the Travellers, the silky whispers of the Dissenters, and the gentle voices of those caught between, the Balancers or the Neutrals. Now it is your own turn to ally yourself. Who do you choose? Why? Is the decision difficult?
Two
It's a cold night when this Latent chickie finds herself out on the streets with only the clothes on her back and the trusty walking stick (with a small satchel attached) in hand. The city is nearly empty, almost eerily so, when she turns a corner to see an old man talking to a fire. It isn't unusual that the fire is talking back, even though she can't understand it. What is strange is that the man turns to her and points with one bony finger. And then the face in the fire speaks again and she can understand this time.
What does it say? How does the girl react?
Have an idea for a prompt? post the form with the idea in place of the response and if it gets approved, you can write it out.
Please write your response as a typical third-person roleplay prompt response.
[size=11][b]Character Name:[/b]
[b]Prompt Number:[/b]
[b]Prompt Response:[/b]
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Posted: Tue Dec 18, 2007 6:43 pm
Character Name: Lenoir
Prompt Number: 1
Prompt Response:
It had been long since last she trod these streets. Seven years and back one spring, Lenoir recalled. A cold winter...
"Darkie! Yeah, you with the black hair! Git!" The little girl ran straight home, but home wasn't there anymore...
She started to shake her head, but stopped. Was it better to clear the memories, or dwell on them? Wasn't that what she had come back here for, forgotten memories? Uncle Juhn may have kicked her out of his flat, but Migeil had offered her a place in a more eastern town, deeper in the mountains where no one minded so much if a girl was of an independent mind. Why in the Land Beyond hadn't she used his voucher to get a place in the merchant train? She had headed south, instead... for memories.
"This is where Papa worked," she murmered to herself. Lenoir closed her eyes and placed a hand on the cool stone of the bank building, remembering. A chill wind funneled down the street, empty but for her at this time of night, and the 17 year old had to shift her load to cover her face from its snapping bite. "It's getting worse..."
On her way here over the past few days, Lenoir had noticed a growing sensitivity to cold. Ice freezer-burned her fingertips, and the cold ground she slept on chilled her to the bone. Her only explanation was a lack of food and long days--maybe she was coming down with something? There was no way to know.
She shifted her load again, the old-fashioned sack-on-a-stick, and moved on.
The streets were eerily empty tonight, and dead silent but for Lenoir's footsteps. It was strange after being so long in the unquiet forest, but there was something too comforting about knowing people were all around for her to be afraid. Like coming into your own house after everyone has gone to bed. Surrounded by people she might have known years ago, Lenoir felt safe, happy to pretend she was a small child again walking down long-forgotten paths to see long-forgotten treasures, and remember. So when she heard the crackling of a fire and an old man's voice--and what was that tapping sound?--the teen was both pleased and disappointed. Here might be the first face she saw in her old home, and that was exciting, but at the same time she felt a sense of loss that her solo journey in the dark was interrupted.
Turning the corner, Lenoir stepped back in surprise. The old man and the fire were all the way down the street! She shook her head in disbelief, thinking that it must be a quiet night indeed when noises like that carry so far. Still in wonder over that, she continued on her way to greet him.
Them, as she saw when she got closer, for the man was talking to the fire, and appeared to be listening back. Not the most unusual talent, talking to fire, although she had never been so close to something like that before. Vague interest suddenly became immense curiousity, and Lenoir quickened her pace. She had never tried to talk to fire--if she listened now, would she hear it? It was a rare chance, to find something like that in yourself, but Lenoir was that magical age of teen when new exploration could turn up amazing results. She could already feel the warmth, and she strained hard to listen to those flames. Where they talking? Were those whispers?
Tap tap tap! "You, girl, what are you doing out this late? Don't you know--" Startled by the old man's cane hitting the ground and the realization she heard nothing, Lenoir missed his words and caught only his tone: threatening.
"Oh, no, I just--" But here she was saved by an unexpected rescuer.
"Metholos, let her be. She only wanted to listen."
It was the fire! "But how--I didn't hear you a moment ago!" Astonished and a mite perplexed at this new development, Lenoir's jaw dropped open and she stared into the flames. Only a moment ago, it was just the usual crackling fire, set in split logs, if unusually sitting in a road instead of a fireplace. Yet now, now, she heard a voice! Crisp and crackling, it was, but with a touch of something else she couldn't identify, something she had never heard in a human voice. And a face! That flames should not only speak in words she knew but do so from a face made of sharp angles and warm red light...
She didn't notice the old man looking back and forth between her and the fire, nor catch the words that they exchanged, so caught up was she in the wonder of living fire, but she noticed when the old man brought his can down smack upon her shoulder. It hit hard, and she dropped her satchel, the stick rolling towards the flames. "No!" she cried out in alarm, but it was too late. It was lost to the fire. "Oh, no..."
"What is it, girl, that stick your father once?" The old man laughed cruely at his own little joke, and she gave him a look of such sorrow and horror that his arthitic jaw snapped shut immediately.
"What is the matter?" the fire asked kindly. It seemed to be quite friendly.
"I--m-my walking stick-- It fell in y- your flames. I'm sorry, I know it's not your fault, but... I've had that walking stick for a long time. It helped me get out of Relroes..."
"Then pick it up and take it. I have no use for a stick I cannot eat," it said quite sensibly.
"Wait, what?" Lenoir peered more carefully, looking at the stick that lay against the pyre of fuel. "It's... it's right there, I'm sure it'll catch any time now." She looked up at the face again. "Right?"
The fire chuckled, and several sparks snapped. "You're not letting it, so no. Not even if someone threw it in my mouth could I eat that stick. I promise I won't eat you, either, if you try to grab it."
Lenoir's pale violet eyes went round in the dark, and she imagined for a moment would it would be like for the fire to caress her skin without ever burning her...
((Approved. Yay!))
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Posted: Wed Jan 16, 2008 9:35 pm
Character Name: Danika Nebarii
Prompt Number: 2
Prompt Response: Blue-purple eyes suddenly blinked and Danika found herself outside with no clue how she had gotten there. It seemed to be the first time such a thing had happened, and yet she wasn't sure. Noting she had clothes and her small satchel filled with her most favourite of supplies, she found that what ever happened could not have been too bad and there for was not needed to be thought upon. At least for now.
With no idea of where she was, Danika decided to search around for a clue to see if she could at least figure out what city she was in. Maybe she wouldn't feel so lost in a place she should know. After all, last she remembered, she was walking down the street to the local art store... In any such case, a walking she was going to go, so as to figure out where she was and make sense of her current situation. After all, it wasn't every day that a person could lose so much out of their day and not remember what happened.
Thinking this over as she walked, Danika turned a corner and was surprised by the light of a fire being burned before her. How odd it was, for she did not remember such a clearing between two buildings like that in the city. Perhaps she was no longer there? But that seemed a bit odd, for she knew of no other city accessible by walking. None too close to where it was she lived, after all. Yet that was hardly what surprised her to begin with!
There was a man there, before it, seeming to warm his hands by the crackling light. But that too was no the surprising part. He seemed to be talking to it. The old man was talking to the fire as if it could listen to him! She seemed not to mind that it appeared to talk back. Perhaps the man was senile? Yes that must surely be the reason! With a shake of her head she moved closer, so as to walk past the senile man and his talking fire, she was surprised to hear that the crackling of the fire sounded like speaking that she could not understand at all. Like some one of another race speaking in their fluent language.
Her mind rambling these thoughts along, she fell back in surprise as she some how found herself staring up at the old man, his old, bony finger pointed into her face. She donned an almost annoyed look as she went to say, "Hey look, Mister.", but was stopped as the crackling of the fire drew her attention. Eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, wondering why it was the fire seemed to want her attention... And then it spoke, in words she could understand no less!
"Why are you out in such a cold night?" it asked, the man now staring at it as well.
She looked at it, disbelief in her eyes. "Y-you can talk?"
The fire chuckled, looking as if it were nodding. "That I can. Or rather, you can understand what it is I am saying. Which, I suppose, is the same in the end."
"But how? Last I checked I was unable to do such things..."
"A traveler should be able to understand a lot of what goes on around them, don't you think? It helps them to understand the world around them." She had to nod, that made sense. "Now tell me, child, why are you out on such a cold night?"
"I'm afraid I don't know..." It was strange to talk to a fire, but it felt oddly comforting. "Last I remember I was walking to the art store and the next thing I know I was here."
"Ah, I see..." Again with the nodding like appearance. "Well that's no good, a traveler should always know where it is they are and how they got there. It doesn't make for an interesting story otherwise."
She went to apologize but was stopped by the fire, such an odd thing that it was.
"We'll have to work on that. But for now, let's warm you by my light." (APPROVED!)
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Posted: Sat Jan 26, 2008 3:34 am
Character Name: Sarah
Prompt Number: 2
Prompt Response:
“Man it is cold…” Sarah whispered as she slid down a brick wall. She put her stick between her legs to ensure that it wasn’t ‘acquiesced’ by one of the other people on the street. Normally one would care less about a stick, but for Sarah the stick was a weapon, a walking companion, and a means to hold the few items she owned. She found it on the ground one day, and since it hadn’t broken yet she still had it.
Man she hated this. Sarah brought her hands to her face to breathe on them slightly to encourage warmth. What she would give to move to a warm place for once. Deciding her breath was no good she undid the pouch and sat it near the base of the stick. This way she’d at least feel the person trying to take her stuff before they got away with it. She then wrapped her arms around the stick and tucked them under her arms.
Slowly she drifted off, her mind filling with the hope of food, shelter and warmth that would never come to her during this time a famine. There weren’t jobs let alone a means to get something that only a few select had these days.
“You there.” An old woman’s voice shrieked into her ear. As she felt a force shaking her back to the cold and dim reality that was her home.
“Wha?” Sarah breathed breaking back into consciousness and feeling much colder than she had earlier. “Move along granny, I’m trying to sleep.” Sarah mumbled as her exhaustion attempted to take over again.
“Are you daft or something? My word I should just let you freeze there shouldn’t I. Wouldn’t be the first.” And the old lady started to ramble as they all tended to at a certain age. Sarah couldn’t help but hear as the scratchy words entered her ears with an annoying clarity. “Youngsters these days just wanting to die can’t be bothered to look a few feet away to notice a strong bonfire. Have to be different these ruffians.”
The concept of a bonfire peaked Sarah’s interest as she opened her eyes. True enough a low orange glow was resonating only a stones throw from where she was. “Thanks granny” Sarah apologized as she gathered her bag and put it on the stick for transport.
The few moments of being stretched out were enough to make walking a pain, and talking out of the question. It was so cold to stand and walk now that the night was fully on her. Her mind pushed her foreword, the hope of fire, and thus warmth, was a promise that moved even her most frozen joints.
When she arrived she almost collapsed on a spot near the fire, yet not to close to cook her skin or clothes. She quickly arranged herself, making herself as small as possible to avoid sighting, and avoid angering any of the more insistent guests to the fire.
People soon gathered around the fire, and a small encampment was born. People were smiling and laughing, children were running around, making the most of nothing with the other children they had just met as families set up small living spaces of ground with cloth on top. It was cozy, but Sarah found quickly that she could no longer sleep.
She watched as men and women jumped up and danced the second a musician pulled out a pot of a banjo or any other sound making devices they had on them. Some even began to sing. Songs of old times during the summer, songs of romance, songs of fun, songs of teaching lessons, songs of trickery, all folk and originals too.
This is what did her in. As Sarah listened to the sounds she drifted slowly, yet surely off to sleep.
When she woke it wasn’t to day break or sound, or anyone taking her things, it was to the bitter touch of cold on her skin, and the slight shiver of her nerves letting her know that cold was once again with her.
First she checked for her stick, then her satchel and the belongings within. All there. Then she made sure that all the clothes on her back were exactly as before. They were.
Then she looked up, and no one was there. The fire had burned itself out long after being only embers. No one had been tending to it for hours. Sarah knew she was a deep sleeper, but to not notice and entire encampment move out? Shaking her head she reminded herself to pay attention to more important things, like finding a place she could sleep where she wouldn’t be too cold doing so.
The encampment was nice, but no walls. The wind had free reign here. Dreading standing, yet knowing she had to, Sarah gathered her belongings up for the second time that night and stood up. She went back to the street in hopes that she would find one semi unoccupied alley way where she could squat.
Oddly no one was on the street. Normally there was at least a few who spilled out into the street, and a couple good sleeping spots that were taken by regulars, but no one. It was like she had just walked through into a parallel universe, a ghost town, something.
Memories rushing back from her child hood told her that empty places were not safe. She picked up pace, the blood rushing through her body warmed her if only slightly as she frantically looked for the sign of anything, life, fire…
That’s when she saw it. A small glow from down one of the alley ways a few buildings down. She sprinted for it. She hoped someone was there. Anyone. Scratch that, some people she didn’t want to see were also hopefully not there, people who would kill her for instance.
Most people on the street were ‘travelers’, people who moved from place to place and mutually aided others who did the same. Some travelers didn’t move, but they still helped. Sarah considered herself a traveler, even if she didn’t fully understand what that meant. But some people, needless to say, weren’t so kind. These ruffians wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone they just spotted. She braced herself for potentially meeting anyone of the sort.
As she turned the corner to enter the alley way Sarah saw an old man tending to a fire in a metal cylinder. Well, tending was one word for it. He didn’t look hostile, that was for certain.
Being the cautious sort Sarah stood back and waited and observed the man before she moved foreword again. The old man was talking. With no other companion visible, Sarah assumed it was the fire to which he conversed. She could barely make out the sounds of the man, and she knew it was useless to try to hear the fire. Elements didn’t change their speech for man; man changed his for the element. The fire itself just swooshed and crackled like normal. This wasn’t a new occurrence to Sarah, who had lived with an alchemist until recently when he had to let her go, leaving her on the streets. However, it did mark the man as a magic user, a much scarier potential opponent.
Suddenly the man whipped around and looked right at her. So much that Sarah felt herself ascend a little into the air as her heart stopped yet her blood raced. He lifted his hand and pointed his finger at her, sending a small fiery sphere at her forehead.
Feeling herself under fire Sarah lifted up her walking stick as a potential shield to the fire that somewhere in her logical thinking brain she knew would eat the poor stick.
But the fireball didn’t touch her walking stick. Instead it hit, and was absorbed into her mind, sending a rush of warmth to her whole body. Waiting for more, and realizing soon after that ‘more’ wasn’t coming, Sarah put down her guard and opened her eyes to look at the man again. “Hello?” she asked, fully aware that she looked quite foolish.
“Don’t mind him, he’s mute.” A voice came, but not from the man’s lips. As she walked foreword a bit she realized that a face was in the fire.
“Umm, hello then, fire?” Sarah walked foreword, not knowing what she should do now that she could talk to it.
“I’m actually that man right there, but right now he is as empty of a soul as fire is normally. I’m hiding you see.” The man explained. “You are a traveler, are you not?”
“Well, I don’t think I could be anything else…” She looked around, and pulled her stuff in close to her body. Talking to a fire was the sign of magic, and magic users were at the highest risk of dying in there sleep these days.
“Come in closer and whisper child, so no one suspects.” The fire advised.
Sarah, thinking it good advice, did as the fire said. “Where is everyone? She asked, concerned.”
“Hiding.” The fire explained, “Why aren’t you?” it asked, slowly and suspiciously.
“Um, what exactly is everyone hiding from?” Sarah asked. “I was sleeping and then everyone was gone, surely had hunters come through-”
“You ought to be dead, yes. Though I think I can see why you aren’t. The walking stick in your hand, who fashioned it? Such a beautiful piece, you can’t tell at first glance what it is, but yet it does work well…”
“It is a stick.” Sarah explained, getting more and more confused, “No one fashioned it, I found it, on the ground, unless the ground can make magical artifacts.”
“Well there is certainly something about you or it” the fire said pointedly at the stick, “That hides your life force from the hunters. Despite the fire, that doll,” He nodded at the body, “has no seeable life force either. Hunters will assume the fire was left to burn and wont check here.”
“So it was hunters…” Sarah whispered.
“Yes, yes.” The fire spoke, interrupting her thought, “You may stay here if you like, the fire will keep you warm, and you won’t give us away.” The fire looked at her with sincere eyes, “Now will you?”
Sarah shook her head and held tightly to her walking stick and satchel.
“Good, now hold onto that staff. I don’t want to risk the chance that it may not be the staff that is hiding you, and avoid talking to me. The hunters may be daft, but they can hear fine enough, and unlike me you make noise.” The fire explained point blank.
Sarah nodded, understanding. The fire man nodded and seemed to vanish from the flames.
Sarah sat on the ground and prepared herself to sleep for the third time that night. As she tried to block the image from her mind of the man in the fire talking to her, she thought of how the third time was the charm for getting to sleep out on the street.
(Approved!))
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