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Sinsaku Onasi Vice Captain
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 Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2006 10:11 pm
Alright, I know I haven't been around a lot due to lots of school stuff and family issues. But I'm trying to become more active being vice-captain of all things. So I was taking a look at the forums and finally noticed it lacked a medieval fantasy thread. So here's my story/plot, it isn't great but it might suit our purposes. (Rules and stuff in next post)
The Kingdom of Seyna Neen was once peaceful, ruled by a fair and just king. But that time has past, by many generations. Those who have no where else to go have stayed, and watched their kingdom quickly descend into complete and total anarchy. Corruption has overtaken the crumbling government many of the kingdom's leaders becoming what they 'vow' to oppose.
Among the common folk, they are cast aside, left only as beggars among their own kind. Thievery has become a necessity for survival and those who have food to support themselves have become the upper and middle classes. For their own safety, many have turned to forms of combat for their own protection.
Mercenaries have taken advantage of Seyna Neen's despair, by selling their services for protection at ridiculous prices. These have become what modern day would call 'gang' or 'mafia-like' leaders. Assassination has become a regular happening in this day and age. Those who even dare to breath a word of treason are killed in their own homes.
However, recently strings of deaths have been traced back to an unknown source. These vigilantes have become local heroes, seeming to seek some form of justice in the crumbling world. Many have sought to help them, others to kill them. But with rumors of a plot for the rejuvenation of their kingdom, the silent voices of the people, may finally be heard.
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Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2006 10:15 pm
Rules:
1.) The usual. Literacy, no godmoding, etc.
2.) Let's try and avoid profiles. Be creative. Write like a story.
3.) Don't flame me. I can't really keep up with a busy schedule, but I'll try and post once a day.
That's all I can really think of...for now at least...
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Sinsaku Onasi Vice Captain
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Sinsaku Onasi Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2006 10:17 pm
((My post, fun stuff))
The man sprinted through the thick branches of the forest, eyes wide, sweat dripping down his forehead. He waved his hands rapidly clearing the thickets and branches obscuring his vision. He was completely terrified, making quite a rucuss trying to escape some unseen danger. As he tried to make a getaway he tripped on a final branch and fell into a clearing. With a shout and a cry he srambled to his feet, glancing over his shoulder.
Turning his head foreward once more he let out a cry as his gaze met his fear. Another man stood in his path, gaze either looking down on his prey or rather at the ground. The earlier man stopped in his path and stammered inaudible words. With a final desperation he fell to his knees, weeping like a babe too cold and without warmth. The stranger loomed above him, clad in a tatter black cloak that covered his body and a collar that covered his face up to his nose. The hood was thrown back, allowing some facial features and his semi-long hair to show.
His facial features were difficult to comprehend, up close you might be able to see hints of blue eyes. However they would appear to be solid black, dark black sockets giving the illusion of having no eyes at all. In truth his eyes were blue, but strangely enough without pupils or whites. They were best described as blue, within blue. But continuing on with the story.
An arm came out of the cloak, seeming to come from within a void, holding a crude, curved knife. With a smirk the stranger dropped the knife with a small thuk. "My revenge has been realized, a swift death would be too good for you. I leave you this blade as a gentleman's gift. You may do the honors yourself." His voice belonged to someone young, clear and could be related to flowing water. When the terrified one looked down at the knife he was speechless. Raising his gaze, the cloaked man was gone, not even leaving an imprint in the grass where he had stood. With a final moment and a lasting gasp, the man stabbed himself, with a cry he fell to the ground dead.
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Posted: Fri Jan 20, 2006 5:16 pm
Jasgoul stood above the corpses, all of them fathers, brothers, sons, all the men lay there, dead, thier blood soaking into the grass. As he sat down and took off his shoes, or rather the cloth mocasins that could hardly be counted as shoes. His feet then felt the grass, the cool, wet grass that had been undisturbed, yet since this battle, it was filled with pain and wrought with destruction. Nearly one hundred men lay dead, yet it seemed so impossible that one man would be the scource of all of this. Yet these men were simple mercenaries, sent to kill one man, and driven by thier emotions. Emotions such as greed, desire, lust, and fear. Pillaging, raping, murdering, all of these things were trademarks of mercenaries, or at least the raiders they dealt with.
If the leaders and mercenaries would sit around serving himself the only fine food, and good wares, then he would be there to serve justice. Maybe some vengance as well. He may have helped his fellow citizens out quite a bit, but not always. He may have acted heroically, but he had his faults, and he had his downfalls. He wasn't perfect y any means, not in his morals or his values. If anything was well rounded and sharpened, it was his skill. THough most of the time his skill was not what allowed him to gain the upper hand. Such as recently, hundreds of men died, just over the sake of fear, and it'smanipulation. The people were responsable for thier own slaughter in the most part, only ten or twenty dying to due to his blade. He stealthily hid, striking at someone who strayed too far from the fighting. With foreign people in thier camp, they would have not fought, but when fear gripped thier people, and distored thier fellow soldier's appearance, it was as if the camp had been infiltrated and assaulted. The mind was powerful, and using it against your enemy was a key factor of combat, or so he thought personally.
With dark brown hair, lightened by mud and clumps of blood, he was by far not the most elegant looking of anyone for miles, yet he was quite dashing. Though being handsome usually wasn't enough to impress people. He wasn't really on the good side of the villagers. The combatants he faced, feared, respected and even honored, yet thesemercenaries still sought to kill him. While as he was accepted in the prescence of the peasants and lords, he was merely tolerated, with nothing else. His frame work would make some smile, though not after they learned his identity. Though finding a mate was not his concern, since he would neverwant another family anyways. He'd never want to live in fear and pain, never want to suffer or have others suffer due to just having a family, and his actions. Distraught by loneliness, and an unquenchable thirst for vengance, there was little else he could do but slaughter people. Not just people, but anyone he could. As long as there were armies for hire, he'd be the good guy. WHat happened after that?
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Posted: Mon Jan 23, 2006 11:42 am
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
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