The Isles of Sepso

[Killing_Time]

The Isles of Sepso is a written roleplaying game and a collaborative fantasy story.

In the world of Sepso the cities are just refilling with Vanir and Aesir elves who return from their yearly festival in honor of Borrdin. It’s early spring and the dew is still frosty in the mornings.

For the past 500 years humans have occupied the island and Jotun for the past 356. The humans live side by side with the elves up north as allies, though not exactly as friends.

500 years ago the humans went to shore on Sepso, but something else happened too. A young and influential elf by the name of Caspian had been corrupted with a hunger for power. In the madness growing within him, he believed that if he was to kill Borrdin he would become the new leader of Sepso. His strike on Borrdin’s physical representation – His Fiur Kjarni – was a failure and so he fled with some of his closest men to the south and stayed in hiding. As the Jotun arrived years later he was the first to notice and make contact to the people as they arrived on shore. He managed to let them become his allies and eventually as the Jotun formed his army, he had the Aesir fleeing from their caves and mines into the wasteland.

The older Aesir people have lived in the north-eastern part of Sepso because of the cave systems and the isolation there.

Although the island is functioning politically and economically, the threat of Caspian’s growing army is still creating a tense atmosphere where nobody feels safe except in the very north.

The elves, like every other humanoid species, have a god-like creator known as a Norn. The elven Norn is called Borrdin. He grants the elves access to absorb and use magic. Because the humans are without a Norn and may be a potentially helpful ally against Caspian, Borrdin has accepted that humans may use magic. However, they cannot absorb it naturally from magically infused items or from Borrdin’s Fingers and instead are confined to using items that are enchanted and also infused with magic.

The elves use rune magic on tools and items which is almost the only way to activate and use the magic within them.





Eshickna

Eshickna is considered the capital of both elven species. It is situated on the northern shore of Vylver Lake in the heart of Great Forest.

It’s a very large city which contains the council and oracle that governs Sepso accordingly to the guidance they receive from Borrdin. The most notable part of the city is its iconic three towers that span from each side of the valley.

Danforth

Danforth is known as the largest human city. The city is sometimes referred to as the City of Knowledge because it holds one of the biggest libraries and the greatest number of education institutions for elves and humans. Its population is mainly of students and academics of which the elves are of a relatively young age.

This city is especially known for its aqueduct that provides the city with fresh water from the mountain at whose foot the city is located. Danforth is right at the outskirts of Great Forest and can look at the prairie that eventually transform into the wastelands.

Stoneforge

Located half a day’s travel from the denser part of Great Forest this city acts like the central trading point between humans and elves. The city is more or less a large market place surrounded by inns and shops.

RACES



There are four humanoid species on Sepso. The humans, Aesir and Vanir all co-exist with only minor social and cultural complications. The Jotun however, are viewed as a hostile race and are usually attacked if they move into the other three races’ territory.

Vanir

The Vanirs are fair skinned and mostly blonde. They have rather sharp features and stand with an average height of 6 ft. They are the northern elven race and have a lifespan of 900-1200 years.

They use rune magic and they specialize in herbal and medical magic but they are also known to process raw goods in high quality. Though in high demand among the rich and prestigious, class A products such as weapons, furniture and decorative items are produced in low numbers.

The Vanirs have a great culture for architecture, art and music and place a lot of pride in representing a race of high-quality artistic ability.

Aesir

The Aesir have grey skin and mostly black hair. They are long-limbed and generally of a lanky but strong build. They stand 6-7 ft tall and have a lifespan of 900-1200 years. They were created as a second race to live on the island under Borrdin’s control. They originally lived in the south in elaborate, natural cave systems where food and water was relatively easy to come by.

They make use of rune magic as well, and specialize in practical use of magic in terms of item enhancement and production efficiency. They have been known as efficient miners with specialized methods for detection and obtainment of metals. The race has in the later years parted itself heavily between the rich and the poor, making miners and industrial workers an important but looked down upon part of their culture whereas those who have the money and contacts to study the theory behind advanced magic are rich and also get to be in the high ranks of society and politics.

Some of the most advanced magic is also Aesir exclusive. The race has developed verbal rune magic which gives them the possibility to learn manipulative speech using magic to influence the recipient. The Aesir are a very proud people and in the high end of society is essential that children get to follow in their parents footsteps. They have very little respect for humans and are not shy to express certain hostility towards the race.

Human

The humans are fair skinned, often freckled and with blonde or red hair. There are other varieties but the first humans who arrived 500 years ago were of this particular appearance. Humans are on average 5 ft tall and live to be 50-80 depending on their exposure to magic and amount of physical labor.

The humans came to Sepso and took with them fresh innovative ideas that did not make use of magic. Their people have mostly consisted of fishermen and a lot of people do live at the shores of Sepso providing the island with fish, and crops from the farmers who have taken on the challenge of cultivating the wastelands – Especially those surrounding Danforth.

The humans may not hold the intellect or wisdom of an elf, but they are great in numbers and those in the academic environment are eager to learn and help merge human innovation with elven magic. The majority of humans is very down to earth and prefers just having to deal with the local society.

Jotun

The Jotuns have dark red skin and black, often coarse hair. They are 5 ft. tall but with a very broad body and big musculature. They seem to live to about 200 years of age.

The Jotun race is one that is very little known about. They are only really seen in connection with Caspian and his armies and fleets and have been witnessed to use an unknown type of magic that does not require runes. They seem to specialize in fire, but it’s not been properly documented. They have been given the term ‘demon’ based on human folklore because of this excessive use of fire magic.

In a non-threatening situation the Jotuns have mostly been spotted in small villages in the desert and southern mountains. Certain groups of bounty hunters have specialized in bringing the demons to rather shady scientists who have sought to study the race in order to figure out biological properties. Cultural studies have been difficult as they often refuse to speak in any other language than their own and will not interact with humans or elves.



Start-up players:

STARRING WADLING! Co starring Mattbot, Hyperion, Varthonai, Killing_Time & Victory. With Aval

If you wish to join please contact me. Regular contact via Skype and MSN is required in order to participate.

This thread obviously lacks some information and so we are currently working on a wiki for the Sepso universe:
www.sepso.wikia.com

[Hyperion]

The trees tore at him as he flew along the uneven ground, bandage bound feet cut and scratched and beaten on the roots and broken branches all around. His breath came in ragged, chest ripping gasps as he stumbled, his body beaten by its flight from the caravan he had tried to steal from. He’d come away with nothing, except fresh scars on his narrow body, and more ragged gashes torn in his clothes. As he fled on, the caravan had receded into the distance and his fear had propelled him onwards a distance, until his foot snagged a looping oak root. He hurtled forwards, crashing forward his whole body hammering into the soft earth.

After his fall he lay there, breathing the scent of the forest floor. He considered simply lying there until something came along to eat him; it would be simpler. But hunger didn’t let him, gnawing away at his insides like some hungry fox cub chewing its way through carrion. He stood, pulling his ragged clothes around his battered red frame. His black hair was matted with sweat and he had to brush it out of his eyes, staring around, trying to find anything to relieve his hunger. The forest was huge and dank, damp and cold, the trees tall, twisted and old, the floor covered in fungi and fallen leaves. Through the trees, however, he spotted something, and his eyes locked on to it; a small cottage. With nothing else left to do, the young, slim Jotun stumbled towards the house.

[Varthonai]

A silver-scaled fish swam worriedly through her dank, chilly pond, in search of a warmer spot where she could spawn her eggs. She had circled the pond several times without luck, and being incapable of certain basic forms of pattern recognition, she was about to begin yet another circle.

Yet, however one might mock her naïveté in hoping for different results, the fish did indeed feel a pulse of warmth near the pool’s edge this time around. Entranced, she swam toward the source of the heat, for here at last was a chance to escape from the cold—a hope, a release, an exit. An opportunity for her children to have a fighting chance at life.

SSSSHKT.

A foot-and-a-half-long knife plunged through the water and impaled the fish against the shallow muddy base of the pond, slicing through her silver scales with ease. The wriggling creature was pulled up out of the water mounted on top of the metal spike, bleeding and suffocating and terrified.

The fish gazed with eyes that were quickly glazing over, and with eyes not meant for vision above the surface she saw the faint blurry outline of a short dark-haired youth clutching the hilt of the dagger that had speared her. Warmth and visible light radiated from his body, keeping away the cold and illuminating his prey, and this was somehow calming to her; if she was to die, this bizarrely beautiful creature was far better than the unfeeling murk of the pool below.

Delicately, Daniel Namecaller filleted the fish on top of a bed of perilla leaves that he had prepared on a clean flat rock by the side of the pool, slicing the raw fish into thin pieces with his knife and sprinkling the fish slices with various seasonings that he had gathered from the surrounding forest. Then he pressed the blade against the thumb of his right hand, cut a shallow slit into his skin, and squeezed a few drops of his own blood over the meal, before finally sitting down and beginning to eat. The Name made no comment about this; perhaps it had finally decided that reasoning with Daniel over the necessity of the tridaily blood ritual was a futile endeavor. Only took Him eleven years, Daniel thought.

Raw fish was not unpleasant to Daniel. In fact, it was a staple of his diet; water was the purest of the elements, after all, and so it was only natural that waterdwellers were among the purest of foods. To mingle it with fire by cooking it would render it less cleanly; eating charred flesh seemed barbaric to Daniel even without the worry of it hindering his connection to the Name.

Daniel finished eating a few minutes later, and took a long drink from the pool to quench his thirst. He noticed that the Name had left him, for the warmth and glow around him had faded, and already he felt his movements becoming slower, his body tiring, his mind filling with mortal thoughts.

“It must be wonderful,” said Daniel, “to be a god every hour of the day, like you.”

A rush of friendly but sarcastic rhetoric whirled through Daniel’s head, as the Name delivered His reply.

“My Lord, I beg Your forgiveness,” stuttered Daniel, terrified. “I merely wished to express admiration, respect, love, devout fear... I am sorry.”

The Name responded with an abstract chuckle, a gesture of lighthearted goodwill. Daniel was forgiven; in fact, he had never really been accused.

“With your permission, Lord, I entreat the answer to a question,” Daniel continued. “Why do we travel to Stoneforge? Back to civilization? Our previous encounters with the outside world have proved fruitless in our quest to spread Your message. Surely we would be better off looking for old members of the--"

The Name’s mood changed abruptly. Daniel was trying to bring up the subject of reviving the Cult, and the Name loathed that idea more than almost any other idea in the world.

“My Name. My Maker. Please. You must understand—Your followers need direct guidance. I do not, I... cannot believe that to disband the Cult was the right course of action. I have held my tongue for a decade, and I... I feel I deserve some measure of...”

The Name was mildly annoyed. Daniel was being arrogant—who was he to question the decisions of the Name?

“Was the world not a better place when you first made it, my Lord? Was it not a better place when you ruled it with all your former strength? Before you sacrificed your power?”

The Name pointed out the obvious flaw in that argument. If the world had been better, then why had it required a sacrifice at all?

“You are right—of course you are right,” admitted Daniel—though, in truth, he was not totally sincere. “I am sorry.”

Daniel sighed, sheathed his knife, discarded the fish bones, and began walking on toward the lights of Stoneforge that gleamed in the distance.

Not in the monastic life of the Cult, not in the ascetic life of the wilderness, not in the urban life of the city, not in the ever-changing life of the open road has the Name granted me the solace and enlightenment I crave, Daniel thought, bitterly. Why should this place be any different?

[Killing_Time]

(I am going to set the time as early morning since it seems to be the most canon with the story and you guys' posts. If anyone has a character waking up later we'll simply jump ahead a little if nobody minds.)

Hika breathed out and left a quickly dissolving cloud of steam around her head. The sun would rise soon, but she had already been awake long enough to have seen as the darkest hours of the night fade into the grey-blue sky it was now. She had decided her hunt away from home for the past days had given her enough to sell and eat for a while, so it was time to go back.

She liked how quiet the forest was. She could only hear her footsteps as they broke the delicate spruce needles and tweaks and her quiet breath. She had been camping on top of steep hill where she had hung out meat and skins and bags out of reach from the hungry and the curious life of the forest.
Now she carried everything over he shoulders, knowing she would not be back before the sun would be just high up enough for her to look directly upon its glowing center.

She wrinkled her nose at how bothersome this timeframe was. She would be busy once she was back. She had to travel to Stoneforge for new supplies. She probably even had to sell some of the hides she had already cleaned and softened so she would have enough money.

She wandered on, down the hill and south where the trees would be distant enough to let her walk freely.

[Mattbot]

“Sir, the lads have re embarked and the snib has been stripped clean.” the aging bruiser of a man stood idle for a moment “Captain!” The poised figure at the top of the quarterdeck tuned suddenly from the admiration of his latest work and gave the man an unnervingly pleasant grin.

“My apologies Dwayne, you did well today. I shall make sure you will be the second to taste today’s profits!” he strode confidently down onto the deck towards where the men had formed a large crowd around the hoard. Snatching Dwayne’s pistol away from him, the commander fired a shot into the air, the men parted away from the pile and stood to attention before him.

“Gentlemen, nobody touches the loot until we’re back on familiar waters, we wouldn’t want to be caught in our moment of triumph would we? Now I suggest you get back to your positions before I and the Barons Navy start sharing a similar attitude!” With that a flurry of activity swept the deck, it didn’t take much encouraging to get the men refocused, they knew not to question him.

He handed the pistol back to Dwayne for reloading “Get Tofa down from the nest and tell the men to store away the cannons.”

“Do you really think that’s wise Rawne, you said it yourself, these aren’t friendly waters.” Dwayne whispered eyeing the surrounding seas in his usual worrying demeanour.

The Captain instinctively took a quick glance over his shoulder and then once again smiled at his comrade “Relax my friend, the wind is on our side. We’ll be long gone before anyone comes snooping.”

Dwayne nodded and limped to his duties. Despite his age, Dwayne was still one of the toughest men on board the ship, a toughness that could only be matched by his loyalty to the ship and its captain. The ecstatic commander spun around and paced towards the centre of the deck. “Set the Crimson adrift and set those sails! I want us past those rocks before gulls set!”

There was nothing he enjoyed more than the thrill of barking orders on a tight schedule and the acrid smell of the salt sea merged with gunpowder assaulting his nose. Well, nothing more save the incentive. The commander rested on a knee and began sifting through the large pile of personal possessions, alcohol, spices and most importantly tobacco. This is what he called freedom.

“That was a nice vessel we had there, Rawne. Did you really need to set fire to it?” pouted a voice too fine to be from any common pirate. The Captain arose from his inspection to greet a young lady with fiery red hair. “I need no fleet, Tofa. I have everything I could ask for right here and more.” He said stroking her cheek with a blood dried hand, the baggy garb of a common pirate didn’t do her any justice, something Rawne would comment on often but regardless she was not one to underestimate.

“No you fool, I meant for me.” She pushed him off and he looked back up at the trading ship she desired, now a burning skeleton of what it had once been. The sound of the waves was now replaced with the horrific screams of those left to die on board, the noise rose to a climatic boom as the explosives placed in the hold ignited.

Moriarty Thurman was blasted back into his current surroundings, he WAS enjoying breakfast in the hall of the Skogbrün Inn. A small group of gentlemen were gazing questionably at him from another table. He rubbed his eyes to hold back any tears and gritted his teeth, a crushing feeling of dread had clasped itself around him. Moriarty bowed his head and quickly ran through a memorised prayer of forgiveness, twice to clean up some jumbled words. The memory had ruined his appetite and he now looked at his bread and cheese in distaste, however he did not want to offend the owners by leaving such a meal uneaten, especially after they had been kind enough to allow him to perform communication rituals in his room.

He forced himself through the meal and washed it down with tea before hefting his luggage over his shoulder and making for the door making sure he left a tip for the owner on his way out.“May Galen gift you a wealth year.”

(Snib being pirate talk for a prize that required little to know effort btw)

[Victory]

The sun was rising. Through a partially overcast sky, ripples and cracks of sunlight began to descend upon the riverbank city. The forest remained a silhouetted backdrop long into the morning, contrasted by a blinding reflection from the water clearly visible from the south facing Inn window; clearly visible to Gerald who had barely slept an hour the entire night. From a pulled up chair, he had sat leaned over the window sill for hours, watching the outside as the morning progressed onwards.

As the hours passed, traces of activity began to increase. People would leave their lodging for the day’s labour and there was a muffled rustling of the inn crew preparing for the day’s custom. There was a pleasant aroma of newly baked bread and just outside the door there was a pleasant, quiet chatter as the other guests began to descend. Yet, Gerald felt lonely.

He sighed, steam gathering on the window, before he stood up. The room was now dimly lit from the rising sun, and his attention was immediately focused on the saddle, standing up against the wall by the door. Last night’s incident was still burning vividly in his memory, scratching and clawing at his conscience, pulling him back into old familiar feelings; pulling him into dark places.

He had to leave the room.

After having gotten dressed, he headed downstairs for something to eat. His arrival in the common room was met with the usual short lived but confounded silence he was accustomed to, but he paid it no mind. He approached the bar and a merry looking waitress approached him.

“Sleep well, mister?” She asked warmly, giving him a quick look.

“Why yes indeed, ma’am,” Gerald lied with a smile, seating himself on one of the bar stools, “But pray tell, is that the scent of baked bread I find?”

“Sure is,” the waitress confirmed with a chuckle, “We’re making soup, and you get some bread for no extra; care to try some?”

“I would be delighted.”

The food helped improved Gerald’s somber mood and he took his time, careful not to spill any on his clothes and careful not to waste the food by rushing through it. The soup was delicious, made from a variety of different vegetables and root crops, made to softer in the liquid. The bread was still hot, soft enough to rip without effort and practically melted on the tongue. It was a good investment.

He took a deep breath as the waitress removed his plate, and sighed in relief. He felt warm and comfortable, and for a moment he felt liberated from his guilt, and the death of his companion no longer felt as cripplingly foreboding. It was a new day after all, shame to those who waste it.

[Varthonai]

Daniel wasted most of the early hours of the new day looking for a sapling on the ground to craft into a quarterstaff. This was the worst time of year for it--most of them would be full of sap, which would cause the resulting staffs to be much heavier than was convenient to wield, and to warp as they dried. This had been the fate of Daniel's previous staff, an ash stick that had crumbled in his hands a few days earlier after only a few weeks of use.

Daniel searched all through the dark hours before sunrise and all of the morning, finding saplings and rejecting them for some reason or other--too short, too thin, too weak, too brittle, too wet, too green--listening all the while to the Name's gentle but increasingly stern suggestions that perhaps it would be easier to barter for a staff somewhere in Stoneforge, and abandon his stubborn self-sufficiency. But in the end, the Name provided Daniel with a small miracle: he stumbled across a strong, straight, sturdy sapling of thorn of perfect diameter and near-perfect height, which proved after cutting to still be almost completely dry on the inside.

"Thank you, my Lord," said Daniel, gratefully. He speared a thick piece of wood on the ground on the end of his dagger to create a makeshift second handle, turning the entire dagger into a makeshift draw-knife, then sat down on a large stone and set to trimming the sapling of bark and its developing offshoot branches.

The Name indicated His acceptance of Daniel's gratitude, but urged that Daniel finish his work quickly and then immediately continue towards Stoneforge. At their current rate of progress, it looked unlikely that they would reach their destination before nightfall, and it would be unfortunate if they had to deal with highwaymen on the way into town.

"Why?" asked Daniel. "We need not fear common bandits. You know this, Lord."

The Name was adamantly opposed to violence, and Daniel knew this.

"Fewer bandits means less violence on the road for other travelers."

It was not an option.

"As you wish, Lord," said Daniel, hastening his trimming slightly.

[Aval]

Frodi opened his eyes slowly, at first slightly; just a blurred horizon of light met his mind. Then came a flutter, then wider - the burdensome task taking all of his concentrated will. At last, his vision was fully operating, enabling him to observe his surroundings.

The walls were small, wooden and close, the ceiling looked thatched. No runes on the doorframe and a dull grey light sweeping in from the window. Bed felt lumpy

From this Frodi could deduce that he was in a room of an inn, probably in one of the more northern frontier human town. Most likely Stoneforge.

This was bad because this was not where he fell asleep.

Or at least the last time he remembered falling asleep... maybe he’d woken up since then? And presumably fell asleep? Think – when you last remember going to bed – you were in Danforth. Scribe’s dwelling. Then what?

He pushed the events of last month from his mind. Too much effort. Wrong time in the day. He blinked and yawned, rolled his head over and

Oh dear.

He was face to face with a peacefully sleeping fair headed young Vanir woman. This was not a good position to be caught in at a Stoneforge tavern. The establishment runners were too respectable and neither progressive or decadent enough to appreciate the physical act of love between two branches of the same species. An exasperated sigh escaped his lips.

On the other hand this at least gave him an idea of what day it was – it must be within two days of the Festival for elves to be passing through Stoneforge.

Reaching to rub sleep out of his eyes, frodi’s right hand brushed against something. He turned to-

Oh my

On his other side was a girl, younger, human. The situation had changed from compromising to personally dangerous. Action must be taken.

Frodi began to push himself out of bed he noticed a third bedfellow's head on his chest. This was beginning to get ridiculous.

Human male. His youthful face belied a sculpted physique. He was thankfully bound by the wrists to the bedpost. This in particular made a couple of nebulous memories float into Frodi's mind which made him hope that the man had a lower tolerance for the various memory numbing narcotics that he did. Of course Frodi knew hoping was pointless. nobody had a higher tolerance than he did.

Frodi slid out of his tangled pile of living aftermath and responsibility with practised grace, like an elbowy spider, careful not to wake anybody. Once they wake up they always act shocked and embarrassed and depressed and angry and make attention attracting noises for very little reason.

"People are terrible." He muttered. "Why do I even do these things with people anyway? What possible advantage does a person as a lover have over say, an o-"

A grunt from the bed slienced him.

He rose to his feet and skulked towards some clothing, avoiding the detritus and surveying the state of the room - small, slightly bloodied blades, various bottles of rum, flash and fungus praraphenalia, loose lines of flash on whatever surface could be found, loose bits of fungus, what seemed to be a broken aralyne...

He reached a mirror over a dresser and stole a glance. Staring back at him with ringed, bloodshot, yellow, slitted eyes through a mess of long, unkempt hair was a frighteningly thin and hunched over figure with a steadily darkening grin. Shoulder blades slid unnervingly between skin and prominent ribs as long fingers swept hair out of his eyes.

Frodi wondered what it must be like for most people living without his looks while knowing someone was as beautiful as he. he really did not give them enough credit. He knew he for one couldn't live with it.

Tearing his eyes from his manhood, he briefly searched for some means to tragically hide himself from the world. He could identify his shirt but what remained of his trousers did not seem wearable. This was a shame because his male companion's weren't quite so stylish. Once reasonably dressed, he opened a window to see that he was on the first floor of a relatively small building looking out into an unpopulated side alley.

Frodi took one last look at his friends and their ruined room and wondered what possible explanation they could come up with, who would get blamed. The idea of countless different contrived scenarios and misadventures made him giggle. With that, he carefully lowered himself and dropped down, landing ungracefully but unharmed.

[Varthonai]

Daniel had finished his staff and just begun the cross-country hike toward Stoneforge when a wave of nausea came over him briefly and without explanation. The Name inquired worriedly about Daniel's condition, with kind and somewhat parental overtones.

"It is nothing, Lord," said Daniel, recovering himself and staggering on, leaning on his staff. "My mind went faint for a moment, and... I had a vision of unspeakable debauchery, no doubt lingering nightmares from our last excursion into the torrid horrors of civilization. Perhaps I should not have been woken so early."

There was a beat, and then Daniel hastily added, "Not to question Your judgment, of course."

The Name was not offended. But they needed to get to town soon.

[Wadling]

Nil shuffled through the cobbled streets of Stoneforge, having just re-entered the city. He bade farewell to his travelling companion: A Vanir who's name he had most likely been informed of but had never taken to memory. This was of little consequence, he was not a particularly exceptional individual and Nil had soon discovered that there was nothing to learn from him. Nonetheless, the company had been necessary, if not entirely pleasing.

Nil let out a long breath of relief as he reached the door of his temporary residence and place of business. He opened the door and was greeted with a most agreeable change of temperature from the crisp morning cold, which while not unappealing had not aided his journey. As he closed the door he heard a hurried thumping of footsteps from the floor above and soon enough his apprentice, Klide, flew down the stairs to his left.

The tall, broad shouldered youth dashed across the room and stopped behind the shop counter. He then turned, patted down his curly black hair and acted as if Nil had only just come in, and that he had not in fact seen the rushed display of pretend-readiness. He then ventured a grin, as if he wasn't exactly sure how Nil would react to this. When Nil reacted with a warm smile, the grin became far more natural.

“What took you so long?” Klide asked “All the other Elves arrived last night.”

“I have not yet reached the stage of my life where I am unable to travel, but alas, I am not quite as young and spry as those who have arrived already.” Nil set about taking off his travelling cloak and setting down a few pouches he had been carrying onto one of the many tables behind the counter. “And not all arrived last night, there were many behind me.”

“Wish I could’ve gone” Klide said with a pout “You said it wasn’t out of the question, y’know, me going along with you.”

“And it still isn’t, I assure you.” Nil smiled again. “Perhaps next time. First you must improve in your studies, and only then may I consider extending to you the honour of attending the festival.”

“That’s a whole year away” Klide hung his head, looking thoroughly dejected.

Nil let out a good natured chuckle “A year is not so long, Klide. When it is a year from now, you will look back on this day as if it were but a few days since.”

“I s’pose.”

“I find time flies by especially hastily when working on something particularly difficult.” Nil stated with a glint in his eye “Would you prefer a tougher schedule? I could arrange for you to be so buried in books that you would not notice the passing of the sun. I am sure the year would pass swiftly then.”

Before Klide could retort, the shop door swung open and a customer entered. “I have the last word once again.” Nil chuckled as he gestured to Klide, who moved forward to greet the customer. Tired, Nil moved into the kitchen in search of some food and a chair.

[Wadling]

(Temp post because Hyperion's Internet sucks)

He stumbled noisily through the door of the cottage, the sheer exhaustion that was pulling him down making stealth an impossibility. His head swung from side to side as he looked around the interior, he barely noticed the neat piles of dried herbs, the animal skins hanging from the low ceiling. Even if he had been well rested it would be difficult to see, the complete lack of windows meant that the only light source was the small one coming from the open door. The only thing he noticed was that there was nobody within his direct line of sight, and a bed was. It had come to the point where the Jotun could simply no longer keep his eyes open. He blindly limped towards the beckoning bed, vaguely aware of the sound of a metal pot being knocked onto the floor.

It was either collapse here, or collapse in the wilderness, and the choice was obvious. His body now entirely numb, he fell forward and crashed into the readily awaiting embrace of sleep.

[Killing_Time]

Hika felt the warmth of the sun spread across her face and slowly substitute for the cold morning air. It was going to be a good day, she knew. It had been that way for a while these days and it only made her long for summer even more.

She was on familiar grounds already and knew her way home. She knew every stump, because most were from trees she has felled and she knew every bush because most carried berries she would collect and dry once the late summer would arrive.

She could finally see her cottage, isolated and on its own. The thatched roof, the neatly stacked firewood, the pine walls clad in clay, the open door... Hika stopped and listened, her eyes sharply focused on the open door. Had a nosy bear been around? Perhaps a wolf? Had a person walked out here to steal? She had made sure the door was closed. Had she forgotten the lock and the wind had merely opened it up?

She already had her bow out and advanced slowly towards the door. She turned to face the entrance of the door, careful to avoid twigs and pebbles as looked inside.

The first thing she saw was the metal pot that reflected the sun behind her, obviously not supposed to be there. Lifting her gaze she soon noticed a pair of bleeding, bare feet sticking out from her bed. Her bow was lifted in a sudden, shaky move as she kept it as steadily as possible on the figure while she checked the rest of the little room. Nobody was there, aside from whoever was in her bed.

Chaining together the whole scene she once looked at those feet. They were quite small, actually. She held her breath and listened. She was not sure if she heard the figure breathing and so she walked forward. She carefully leaned over the bed – at first glance nothing but a boy, then she jolted back. She knew he was not human, nor did he seem like a child of the elves. His ears didn’t match an elf but his skin was so dark, unlike any shade she had seen before. Was he a mixed race? A feeling of worry washed over her. What else could he be? Poor thing, she thought. He must’ve been on the run for very long.

She could see his chest subtly move up and down. At least he wasn’t dead. She held her bow out and poked him lightly. He didn’t react. She tried to poke him in the face at places she knew would provoke a reaction, but still nothing. He was not going to be moving anywhere for a while.
He had some really bad wounds though. By the looks of it she would not be able to clean out some of the infection without elven help. She bit her lip. Did she even know anyone who wouldn’t want a mixed race killed at first sight?
She had to go to Stoneforge anyway. Perhaps she would find someone there. She tried to push away the thought of what would happen if she couldn’t. Or if it was found out she housed something like that.

[Varthonai]

The day seemed to be stretching on for impossible lengths. The sun beat down heavily, the coolness of the early morning forgotten as Daniel sweated with exertion; and though he could see that the edge of the forest was now far behind him, Stoneforge did not seem even a stone's throw closer.

"Lord, I cannot explain it, but the few hours we have been walking feel to me as though many days have passed," said Daniel. "Perhaps the Norns conspire to weary us?"

The Name rippled with amusement in the back of Daniel's mind--it was not possible. Most likely Daniel's weariness was simply due to boredom. Perhaps a song to pass the time might be appropriate?

"If you desire it, Lord, so it shall be," said Daniel.

The Name did desire it, and Daniel began to sing to himself softly.

"Upon the eve of battle
And before the break of day,
I spied two youthful sentries
Shivering the night away.

'Boys, wherefore do ye shiver,
For I now shall tell ye true--
Should Galen's men set this place ablaze,
We'll wish for cold anew.'

The younger's green eyes locked with mine,
And this was his reply:
'If the Name dwells in all humankind,
Why at human hands must we die?'

I asked our Lord for guidance,
But it did not come in speech:
He ordered me to find the youths
Blankets and pillows each.

'We can't take these,' the elder cried.
'Not in our current plight--
All posts are to be guarded
'Til the end of this long night."

'Twas then the answer came to me,
Lessons I had forgot:
The Name gave His folk laws,
But no natures binding them taut.

No fate-thread of the Norns
Holds us unto His holy creed,
Evil and Good both run unchained;
In His world, all is freed.

And so our natures all are tested
In each hour's ghost,
'Lie down,' I said, 'both of ye,
For I'm taking on your post.'

My mind and body both were weary,
But my Lord was staying with me.
All I wanted was their safety,
Through the night, so cold with envy,

Knowing suns will set and rise,
Affixed with unbreakable ties,
Never to see with mortal eyes,
The choices by which we're made wise...

[Wadling]

Nil had dissected an apple and an orange, the apple had been cut into thin strips whereas each section of orange had tiny precise holes cut into them from where Nil had extracted the pips. He was now balancing a pip from both the apple and the orange on the tip of a knife in his left hand and had it held up in front of his eyes. He ate the remains of the fruit with his right hand while lazily gazing at the knife. He heard footsteps come to a halt behind him and he delicately laid the knife back on the plate.

"First sale of the day." Klide announced, happily. "You feeling alright? You had a pretty long day I'll bet."

"Worry yourself not with my weariness." Nil replied in a lighter, yet harder tone "Tell me, I have been away for awhile and in my absence allotted to you an assignment. Have you endeavored to execute an ending for your essay? Or will I find it half-finished and fully forgotten?"

"Neither." Klide said, and before Nil could begin again he quickly continued "But the thing is, is that you always say that 'practical experience is superior in all circumstances.'"

Nil raised his eyebrows with apparent interest, so Klide went on. "Y'see I figured I could write an essay on all the qualities and uses of the Shayla root. But there's a bunch of them growing not too far outside of the city, so I went out there and harvested a few. I've been practicing preparing them for a couple of hours a day. I think I'm getting pretty good at it."

"You've shown initiative, intriguing. A most meritorious motion. However, first we shall see how successfully your skills have sharpened. Praise or persecution will pursue."

[Killing_Time]

Hika was packing some skins in a bundle. She was careful not to make any noise although she knew it would most likely not stir the boy.
She had earlier hesitantly felt the boy's forehead and she worried enough to feel urgent about going. She wasn't sure he would survive while she was gone.

Hika was aware she had no Yarrow herbs, and she knew it was really the most effective treatment against this fever. She'd have to get that and maybe even get one of those expensive healing bowls if she couldn't find someone in Stoneforge to help her.

Swinging the bundle of skins over her back she closed the door behind her well and tight and went east, towards the only place she could get help.

[Victory]

Gerald left the inn and the morning chill was still frightfully present. He shivered slightly and firmly suppressed his urge to retire back into the pressing heat of the crackling fireplace and the pleasant company, but Gerald felt compelled to venture outside; compelled to leave and put all of this behind. He had to secure a new horse or a at least escort to Danforth where a horse might be more easily acquired. Either way, the stables should be a good place to start looking.

Gerald remembered passing the stables yesterday night and set his stride northwards. The city was quaint, and in any merrier circumstances he might've appreciated it for its rustic charm, but it all seemed so long away from home, a feeling Gerald rarely struggled with in his travelling profession. For a moment he was distracted with thoughts of Arquen and Eschickna. Seemed so long ago now that he saw her, must've been several months since last.

"Well," an middle age man said as Gerald entered the stable, "Aren't we a long way from home?"

The choice of words was uncanny, but Gerald let the comment slide as he was one to do and approached the man. He was tall and wide, with leathery tanned skin and grey short hair with a receding hairline. He was carrying a pitchfork, no doubt in the middle of feeding the horses.

"Sink me, I couldn't agree more," Gerald spoke, and the energy of the phrase was like lightning in his body, so in contrast with his general fatigue that it seemed conflicting, "Perhaps you could help me on that account."

"You're the fella' who arrived last night, aren't ya?" The man said and put the pitchfork against the wall, "I heard o' you. You beat up them bandits in the cell."

"My reputation do so have a way of preceding me," Gerald chuckled.

"Small town; ain't many people dress like you do, if you don't mind me saying. You looking for something?"

"Well, that all rather depends. You wouldn't be willing to part with some of these horses, would you? For a price, of course."

The man scratched his chin for a moment before nodding, "I might. Follow me."

[Killing_Time]

(TIMESKIP: It's noon)

The bundle of skins had managed to become a heavy weight as Hika had wandered on for hours. She was sweaty by the time she reached Stoneforge's west gate and had begun feeling a little anxious about the strange boy back home. It was really what had kept her going without breaks - And she was starting to feel the hunger gnawing as a result of it.

Now inside the town, Hika looked for a place to sell. As first priority she needed to earn money if she was to capable of helping the boy. The marketplace was dusty, busy and smelly with noises of animals, children and loud-mouthed sellers and stubborn costumers. She hated the chaos here, but would it endure it for now as she did whenever it was time to sell off her goods. It was hard for her to believe that she used to live in the middle of this chaos years back; come summer, come winter.

She knew that shopkeepers and regular sellers would buy her skins when she did not have her own booth, so she went through the crowded streets, heading towards the shops set up by fellow hunters.

[Mattbot]

Moriarty took a sip from his canteen and gazed up at the Skogbrün Inn. What had once been an elvish castle had now been converted into a place of business, the weathered and battered arrow slits had been filled with glass panes and its entrance filled in to leave room for only a single door. The result reminded him a lot of buildings belonging to the singing city of Alatoice. Between it and the surrounding stone wall lay a little in the way of housing, some basic stores and a stable but what most of the space had been donated to was its bristling market square. Travellers shuffled between trading carts and tents, the air was filled with the sounds of bards and the aroma of foreign perfumes and spices. He recognised many traders from cultures across the sea, he’d hoped under friendly circumstances.

Lining the outer wall stood a line of elevated stages, these had been rented out by Skogbrün’s owners to entertainers, miracle workers, salesmen and like Moriarty religious speakers. He had spent every day of the past week at this stage trying to convert passers-by to the worship of Galen, It was part of his reason for being on Sepso, his pilgrimage. The Path of Therion, a quest of purpose finding where one must travel the earth in search of a life which agrees with both oneself and the ideals of Galen. Thus far Moriarty had hoped his calling was to help guide the people of this pagan land to the better ways of life that he followed, however he was gradually losing faith in this venture as it was giving him very little payoff.

His one joy of this task came from telling the stories of The Grand Paladin and his knights, as the nature of the stories gained him the largest audience. Although the crowds mostly comprised of children enthusiastic for tales of fantasy, their enjoyment cheered him up and kept his mind adrift of cruel memories. This was a pleasant change from the early morning customers who either gave him vile looks as they passed or hurled arguments at him from afar, not hard to understand considering some of the views put forth by the book of the Soarverge especially concerning the elves. He chose to glance over those parts in favour of more positive chapters, he was sure Galen would understand.

The morning sun had fully passed before Moriarty closed the book of the Soarverge much to the upset of his young listeners.

“Alas ladies and gentlemen, my mouth has run dry and standing under the spring sun for so long has taken its toll. I now surrender the stage to you, do with it as you please till sunlight depart.”

The children scrambled their way up the elevated platform eager to re-enact the stories Moriarty had told them in front of their guardians. He helped lift one of the smaller children onto the wooden platform before making his way to one of travelling vendors for a break.

[Varthonai]

The thought of children ran through Daniel's mind again, filling him with disgust. The prospect of encountering children was yet another thing about civilization that gave him no wish to return. Noisy kids, sticky-fingered urchins, spoiled upper-class brats with the silver spoons not yet pulled from their mouths... all of them equally maddening.

The Name disapproved. Children had a special place in His kingdom; innocence was a powerful thing. Daniel knew this, but his dislike of them was difficult to repress with faith alone. For all its supposed charm, Daniel knew that innocence always comes with a lack of understanding of morality and mindfulness; thus children were often selfish, cruel, and unaware of the consequences of their actions.

[Killing_Time]

(Since Vic hasn't returned since last night I'll just go ahead and post.)

Hika pushed herself through the crowds of eager bargainers onward to where she was supposed to go. She felt shoulders and hands touching her as she went through the groups of people, but suddenly she felt the unusual sensation of something pulling at the hides she carried and before she could react, the bundle was yanked out of her grip from behind. "Hey!" She shouted and spun around, managing to get a hold of one of the skins in the bundle. She looked up and into the eyes of a determined, but very filthy boy. "Let - go you idiot!" She protested as she jerked the hide, holding onto it so strongly her fingers hurt. Feeling the anger building up in her, she couldn't believe this was happening to her at a time so crucial.
Those who were close enough to the event had begun turning around to see what was going on, but Hika barely noticed.

[Mattbot]

Moriarty slumped down onto one of the stalls lined up outside the spirits vendor, the area in front of the vendors caravan had been made into a small outdoor pub, a few well used tables and stalls laid out on the grass and cobble floor. With a spring sun caressing his face and only a light breeze making it past the surrounding castle walls this made for a surprisingly relaxing experience, however Moriarty had taking in more than enough direct sunlight for the day and drew his turkins hood.

While sipping from a glass of some unusual yet pleasant mixture he faintly recognised from past explorations Moriarty pondered his next course of action. Although he found a relaxing enjoyment in spreading the words of Galen to the unenlightened masses, it wasn’t playing out as he had hoped it would, not even those firmly opposing his beliefs showed as much hatred as he had expected although he passed that up to his location and wasn’t going to let Skogbrün set his expectations for the rest of Sepso.It was time to look for a new location.

A group of men had been watching him from across the market for some time now, they had been keeping spaced out for the most part but Moriarty counted five of them in total. Their garb was poor yet they had made no secret of their wealth, thieves. If his suspicions were correct then maybe it would be best to remain in Skogbrün for one more night.

[Victory]

(My NIC drivers died last night, thus removing any and all abilities to connect to the internet. I got it working at 4 am in the morning, but I didn't have it in me to post that late.)

The boy tugged and pulled, desperate to overpower the woman and escape before the guards arrived. His fingers were numb from the cold and the strain, and his balance was uneven and often sabotaged by his own attempts to violently relieve himself from the hunter's relentless grip, but he persevered. Those hides would be useful for both warmth and for trade; he needed them more than she did, so it was okay, he would argue.

"Here."

Suddenly something large and heavy hit him from the side and pushed him off balance and down onto the ground. He was forced to let go to catch himself, and furiously pushed the object - seemingly a large leather saddle - off of himself, confused and disoriented. Above him now stood a pompous and foppish looking gentlemen, endlessly amused by the situation.

"I must apologize for my zeal," the man spoke, fixing his posture, "I thought you a carrier servant. This blasted saddle is much too heavy for me."

The young boy stood up and struggled to maintain his balance during the rise. The gentlemen reached to assist, but the boy batted his arm away. Fury - from shame and confusion - coloured him blind, and violently he lashed out at the city man, throwing himself right into the man's outstretched walking stick. The metal tip struck high on the boy's chest stopping his assault instantly and once more brought him to the ground, and out of consciousness.

[Killing_Time]

Hika was pushed back as the boy suddenly released his grip from bundle but she managed to regain her balance. Still clutching the one hide she looked open-mouthed at the now unconscious boy and then at the man responsible for preventing the theft. He looked rich, far too rich and well dressed to be concerned with these kinds of problems.

The rest of the hides where still touching the ground, dragged around in the dirt as she took a step forward to look closer at the boy. He didn't seem to be much older than the child who slept in her cottage, and it made her feel pity for him. "Thanks," she said finally and looked up. The circle of people around the ruckus had already begun disbanding.

[Varthonai]

The Name communicated to Daniel a sudden, overpowering sensation that He and Daniel were not where they were supposed to be, and urged Daniel to pick up the pace.

"I am trying, Lord," Daniel said, rolling up his linen pant legs in preparation to cross the muddy brook in their path. The Name dulled to a whisper in his mind as thick sludge rolled up around his ankles at the brook bottom and dirty water lapped at his calves with every step. When he emerged on the other side, he wiped himself off on the bed of grass and felt his connection to the Name renew.

"These delays are becoming irritating."

[Aval]

Frodi assumed his new trousers once belonged to the male of his bedfellows. They were fashionable if a little ill fitting. He was now without a weapon or any gold or a clue as to what he should be doing. He decided that as long as he wasn’t found in the room he ought to be able to safely return to the inn to gather information. He slipped inside and the wall of warmth and smoke hit his face.

Making his way to the bar he slid onto a stool, only to find something uncomfortable pocking his behind in his new pocket. Furrowing his brow he reached in and pulled the offending object out.

With a slight shock he saw it was a severed finger – stubby and wrinkled with a large and thick gold ring displaying the crest of a noble family. This belonged to someone who must have been important.

Damn. What did I even do last night.

“The mystery deepens...”

dropping the finger into the ale of the man beside him, he slapped the ring onto the bar and caught the eye of the attendee.

“How pissed and armed can I get for this much gold?”

The bartender – old and dilapidated but much younger than Frodi (humans were so ephemeral) eyed it and glanced upwards to meet Frodi’s own gaze. The man had that terrified look he could inspire in old people.

“I can give you drinks but we don't deal arms here, sir." The penetrating stare was lasting longer than Frodi would have liked. The barman lowered his voice and continued "a-are you one of the Teplak fellows? I don't want any problems."

Frodi's mind suddenly rushed with memories - images and concepts. Yes, I suppose I am.

Frodi's features took on the appearance of the most terrifying hurt puppy the average person would care to see. "No! Of course not! Why? Rumours of activity?"

A strange look from the bartender."You see I'm something of a - what you might call a vigilante. I've been discretely following Teplak's expansion out of Elfland."

Grave seriousface time now. "If you have any information it would be vital for the safety and moral health of this city that you tell me now."

You are too stupid to be alive.

The poor man looked terrified now. "W-well they mentioned they were waiting for another man to arrive-I just assumed that was you-"

How do you actually manage it? Are there breathing instructions written on your hand?

"They spoke to you?"

I'd never have thought you'd be able to read them.

"No! No - I overheared them talking."

Frodi nodded his approval. You seem innocent enough, for now. The Eye Of Justice moves on.

"And - well they did mention something, sounded important. Someone they were meeting. Possibly another Teplak. Might be the sort of person you're looking for. One of those scumball types, real nasty piece of work. Described him as the sort of guy who could turn your nose from fifty fe-"

"Yes, yes, get on with it. Give me a name."

"Didn't get a last name, first name was Frodi though."

Frodi stared blankly for a long while. Then finally spoke. loudly.“Well congratulations, bacraut. You just went and wasted so much of my everything - I only have a certain amount of time to live here y’know? My brain’s only got a certain amount of information it can store before I start losing my mind. Bollocks, I need to erase that with some narcotics, fast.” He downed his drink.

“B- but I was under the impressi-“

“No- no. Shut up. Now all I can think is ‘What if on my deathbed as time begins to trickle and I stare down the precipice of the end of my existence the only memory my mind can dredge up in its last moment is that one time when the guy I thought had useful information bored the shit out of me’”

With that he stood up violently and made an impressive display of leaving the tavern. Fresh air and the sound of livestock greeted him as he saw he was facing the morning market. Stoneforge was quite a nice place. It made Frodi Shudder.

Probably here on Teplak buisiness. Must meet with people from up North. Most likley pickup.