NationStates Jolt Archive

Somewhere, in the depths of the mighty swamp of Stickwood…

Durbin paced around the crudely constructed palisade. He had to keep moving, simply because the mud was so wet and sticky, he’d sink into it if he stayed still for too long. His boots made loud squelching sounds with each footstep. This was no place for a wizard! Even a hedge wizard like Durbin deserved better, or at least, so Durbin thought. His marsh elf captors had barely spoken to him, although that was probably a good thing, since he had a hard time understanding their gibberish. He was pretty sure he was in a slave encampment of some sort, and, judging by the screaming, there was probably some kind of torture going on as well. The funny gurgling sounds coming from the pen next to his, he didn’t even want to think about.

A black cat hopped lightly up onto the palisade, and peered at him. Durbin stopped in his pacing, and stared back. “Spangles! It’s about time you showed up!” he said, in a relieved tone.

Spangles appeared to think about jumping down into the mud, before realising how undignified that would be. It walked around the top of the palisade. “I go off for five minutes, to catch a mouse, and this is what you get yourself into.” The cat replied, in a long-suffering voice.

“You were supposed to be watching my back while I had a snooze!” Durbin protested. Spangles yawned. Durbin continued, “Anyway, hurry up and get me out of here, before they feed me to that mad god of theirs.”

“Why don’t you blast your way out with a spell?” said Spangles, “That’s what you usually do, even when I try to suggest a more subtle approach.”

“They’ve put some kind of collar on me.” Said Durbin, “I can’t cast any spells. You’ll have to break me out somehow.”

“What do you expect me to do?” said Spangles, “I’m a cat.”

Durbin shrugged. He hadn’t thought that far. “I don’t know! Chew the ropes holding the gate shut or something.”

“Are you serious?” said Spangles, indignantly, “They’re as thick as your arm! And they’re filthy!”

“Well…” Durbin thought about it for a moment, “Get some help, then! Find some likely have-a-go heroes, and get them to bust me out of this dump.”

“Why on earth would they want to come and rescue you?” said Spangles, “I mean, come on, give me something to work with here.”

Durbin continued to pace squelchily around his enclosure, “Um… Maybe… tell them I’m a beautiful enchantress… uh… with long blonde hair and uh… totally morally compromising.”

Spangles gave Durbin a long stare, “Ugh. And, when they come and find you’re a small hairy man with significant body odour?”

Durbin shrugged, “Then we run like the clappers.”

Spangles sighed, “You know, if it wasn’t for the fact that if you die, my spirit will be cast back into the void between worlds, I would totally leave you to your well-deserved fate right now.”

Durbin beamed, “Thanks, Spangles! I knew I could count on you!”

The cat gave him a last, baleful look, before hopping back off the pallisade wall and out of sight. It slipped past the Marsh elf guards, and out into the marsh, grumbling, "Where the hell does he think I'm going to find a hero around here? It's not as if they grow on trees."


OOC
So, yeah. Open fantasy/medieval RP. Looking for heroes/antiheroes who just happen to be travelling through or lost in the dank and murky swamps of Stickwood. Tech level should be high middle ages or earlier. Magic users allowed, so long as they aren't too over the top.

Ug, what a wretched place.

Greer jerked to a stop as his white cloak snagged on yet another skeleton branch. Groaning, he pulled a scimitar from his waist and angrily hacked away at the dead wood. After a few frustrated minutes, the blade bit through and Greer pulled himself onto a steady trunk and stared silently at the weapon.

It held a peculiar shine, like it reflected the sunlight even in the shade of the swamp. Along the blade were written two words: Pius Ira. Greer assumed it was the name of the scimitar, but it was made by his father's people, so anything was possible.

Pius Ira had been a gift from a stranger. One of two, actually. He said they were to make up for seventeen years of missed birthdays. Then, the stranger told Greer the truth, starting with the fact that he was Greer's father. Which meant that his mother had not been a virgin and Greer was not the messiah everyone believed him to be. His father had broken the rules of his people and Greer would be in terrible danger if anyone one should discover the true nature of his conception.

Sending away his memories, Greer pulled his father's other gift from his bag. It was a thick book of white and gold. Elegantly scripted onto it's cover was the name Lucis, though it was far better known as The Book of Faiths. Collecting his thoughts, Greer opened the book and began to read to himself.

Spangles peered out of a bush at the strange man sitting reading a book, of all the things to do in this godforsaken place. It looked around to see if Greer had brought a picnic as well. Rats, no such luck. At least he had a sword. That was a good start.

"Oh well." Spangles said to itself, "This one looks as likely as any. Here goes..."

It preened itself a bit, before trotting out of the shrubbery doing its best 'cute little kitty' act. It wandered up to rub its back up against Greer's leg, "Miaow?"

OOC: Let's see... I think Kaldor's apprentice, Verton Dijaal,would be suitable for this. He's a reasonably powerful mage - nowhere near as powerful as Kaldor himself, but skilled enough to be useful; he's also a competent fighter with the double-tipped short spear. As for an explanation of his presence, perhaps Kaldor could have sent him into the swamp to collect some rare fungus or some such. Does that sound all right?

OOC: Let's see... I think Kaldor's apprentice, Verton Dijaal,would be suitable for this. He's a reasonably powerful mage - nowhere near as powerful as Kaldor himself, but skilled enough to be useful; he's also a competent fighter with the double-tipped short spear. As for an explanation of his presence, perhaps Kaldor could have sent him into the swamp to collect some rare fungus or some such. Does that sound all right?

OOC: Sure, come on in. There's lots of rare fungus in Stickwood, especially varieties with hallucinogenic properties... You can either show up where Spangles and Greer are, or post in somewhere else in the swamp and I'll throw something at you. :D

Verton paused, wiping a sleeve across his face, then trudged on through the muck with a sigh. Seven days of this! he thought. These blasted mushrooms had better be worth the trouble. Ah, there's another batch...

Leaning his staff against a battered-looking tree, he bent and carefully harvested a few of them, following his master's instructions to the letter. Being apprenticed to Kaldor could be a pain, but the old sorceror knew his business very well. Verton added his prizes to the meager collection in his sack, then took up his staff and moved on.

He hardly looked the part of a great wizard, Verton knew. After only a few hours of searching, already he was filthy. His boots and the lower end of his long staff were coated in mud, his long hair, tied back to keep it out of his face, was tangled and dirty, and his gray robe had been cut off at knee level in a futile attempt to keep it out of the muck.

Just as well there's no-one else here to see me.

Little did he know that he was drawing near another traveller...

OOC: Feel free to provide him with a bit of excitement to break up the monotony of mushroom hunting, or just have Spangles hear his approach. ;)

OOC:
I'm going to enter this. My character is a man who was on his way through the swamps and has become hopelessly lost. He finds his way into the prescence of the others because he is out of supplies and desperate to find someone. He is a little inept at times, but is a pretty decent hero when he really has to be.

Aerol stirred unhappily out of sleep, he'd been having a fantastic dream about a flying banquet table, and returning to reality wasn't his idea of fun. His idea of fun was currently very far away in who knows what direction. "I had to take the short cut through the swamps didn't I," he remarked to no one in particular.
He slowly climbed down out of the tree he was in, then realized he'd left his knapsack and sword up there and had to climb up and get them. He peered into the knapsack hopefully, and was rewarded with a leaf that had fallen into it during the night. He munched thoughtfully on the leaf for a while before spitting it out in disgust.
Just then he heard the unmistakable squelch of a foot coming down into the mud that he'd come to hate so much. He looked down at his feet, making sure it hadn't been them, and then stepped caustiously in the direction of the footstep. He paused behind a tree and heard someone muttering softly to himself.
He poked his head around the tree in time to catch the last word: "mushrooms" Excitedly, he remembered that you could eat some mushrooms, and stepped out from behind the tree.
"Er, do you have any food?"

ooc: mind if I have a forgetful, somewhat insane, 'good' half demon join?

Surprised by the sudden sound behind him, Verton whirled to face Aerol, fire flaring up in his free hand. Then the question and the ragged appearance of its speaker registered on him, and he relaxed.

"Plenty, and you look like you really need some. Just a minute..."

Sitting down on a nearby fallen log, he rummaged through his pack and produced a large, green glass bottle. Opening it, he muttered a few arcane phrases. Blue and purple smoke billowed out, coalescing into a platter of roasted chicken and a loaf of fresh-baked bread. After cleaning his hands with a quick spell, Verton drew his belt knife and began slicing the food.

ooc: mind if I have a forgetful, somewhat insane, 'good' half demon join?

OOC: So long as it's not too over the top.

IC:

A marsh elf patrol was concealed in the undergrowth mere yards from Verton and Aerol. Plastered in mud and leaves, the small elves were sufficiently difficult to pick out from the swamp foliage, that so far, they had managed to go undetected. Normally, their strong smell would give them away, but fortunately for the elves, the putrid stench of the swamp outweighed even their unpleasant odour.

Sergeant Ossian skewered a passing tree frog on his knife, and popped it in his mouth, while he watched from the branches of a tree. His patrol of twenty elves were scattered about the bushes below, and he at least, was sufficiently familiar with them to be aware of their rough positions.

"See that, sarge?" whispered a marsh elf archer on the branch below him.

"Aye, Doyle, I surely did." the Sarge chewed on the brightly coloured frog, "Looks like we got another wizard wandrin' round in the swamp. Yer'd think after the number we sacrificed to Grungruk already, they'd learn to to come here."

"What's the order, then, sarge? Do we get 'im?"

"Get a collar ready."

There were muffled whispers, as Doyle passed the message on to the elf below, and then the elf below that, until it actually reached the elf who was carrying the collars. Ossian peered around the scene from his vantage point one last time, before bellowing:

"Get the wizard, lads!!"

At that point, the marsh elves errupted from the bushes all around, clad in their mud and leaf camouflage, and weilding spears, clubs, and nets. They screamed shrilly, and leapt for Verton and Aerol.

ooc: Marsh Elves (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=8346650&postcount=72)

As he wandered througth the swamp, the man garbed in odd black robes stopped and muttered to himself "Now what was I doing, I know I'll ask the next person I meet, I'm sure they'll know what I'm suppose to be doing." He then headed deeper into the swamp.

ooc: appearance: human with cat ears, yellow eyes, blue hair and claws instead of fingernails.

OOC: I hope no one minds if I join.

Stickwood Swamp:
A blinding flash lit up the swamp for a few seconds, and then died down to reveal a tall elf in silver robes eyeing the area around him distastefully. "By the Ears of Sverion!" he exclaimed. "What is wrong with my teleportation spell? I accept a routine job with an affluent client and I suddenly end up in a dead-end place like this!" He thumped a black staff on the ground, and ended up having to pull it vigorously to get it out of the mud. A large grey falcon eyed the area serenely, safe from a position on Aramil's hat. "Oh dear, you messed it up again Aramil?" It said. "Honestly, you'd think that you would consider my well-being more important than this! Oh well, I suppose I will scout out for you and get something tasty in the meantime." The falcon flew off, leaving Aramil struggling in the mud. He quickly clapped his hands, and began to rise up, a small mound of earth below him. "Good thing I learned that Dry Ground spell before I left the academy," he said to himself.

Over the Swamp of Stickwood:
Aurian the falcon glided swiftly along above the swamp, smirking at all the creatures below who were confined to walking, poor things. He shrieked in consternation as he flew since he saw no edible things on the ground below besides a few swamp elves, and everyone knew they were stringy. Then, he spotted a cat, and cawed in delight. He loved using his status as a familiar to upset age-old customs, such as cats chasing birds. No matter it was next to a human, Aurian wasn't being too choosy. He fell into a dive, and picked up speed as he neared the cat, a silent apporach at 200 miles per hour.

Aerol almost wept with gratitude when Verton produced the meal. "I gotta get me one o' them bottles," he said. He was about to take a bite when several bushes ran towards him shouting and waving weapons. Never one to waste good food, he stuffed what was in his hands into his mouth and pulled his sword out of its scabbard.
It was a long curved blade, and while the scabbard and grip had been through hell, the blade had been maintained well and was razor sharp. Aerol swung at one of the bushes as it came within range and part of it flew off, revealing the headless body of a marsh elf. "Nobody gon' come between me an' my dinner!"

The Swamp of Stickwood:
Aramil was making good progress, forming a bridge with his Dry Ground spell, and then allowing it to desintigrate as soon as he stepped over. It was a lot less strenuous than making a permanently dry spot. I'll see if I can find someone who can tell me where in the world I am, he thought. Then suddenly, interrupting the peaceful cries of crickets, he heard the warcries of Marsh Elves. I should have known, he thought to himself as he picked up speed and summoned his offensive magics. How typical of Marsh Elves to inhabit such a confounded place. He reached the top of a rise, and saw twenty marsh elves ambushing two humans below him. Quickly conjuring a lightning bolt, he sent it zapping down upon the hapless creatures, incinerating two along with their leader. He prepared to do some quick casting.

A Different Part of the Swamp of Stickwood
Aurian extended his talons, and the gratifying rip into flesh ensued. He quickly attempted to climb with the still alive cat.

OOC: I hope you don't consider either of my attacks a godmod.

The half demon, hearing what sounded like people headed toward the noise.

OOC: I hope you don't consider either of my attacks a godmod.

OOC: Usually you let the other person respond before continuing an attack, The part with the wizard seems fine to me, but you might want to give Stickwood more time to respond to your first post about the cat.

"Get the wizard, lads!!"

Verton sprang to his feet, dropping the knife and snatching up his staff.
"T'zäl ker vôräz!" he shouted, twirling the staff skillfully, and a wall of crimson flames sprang up around the two travellers. He couldn't maintain it long in this dripping swamp, but it kept them from being overwhelmed immediately.

A few of the creatures, however, had gotten through before the wall went up. As Aerol neatly beheaded one of them, Verton threw a ball of fire at one that was carrying a net and engaged a third with his staff.
"Merâth… tïl gären… dî-gäl." he managed to say while fending off his opponent's blows, and lightning crackled along his weapon.

OOC: If you're familiar with the game Dungeon Seige (www.microsoft.com/games/dungeonsiege/default.asp), Verton's style of staff-fighting is kind of like that one.

Caladonn, it would be best if you gave Stickwood a chance to respond before Aurian actually gets to Spangles, and didn't declare the death of the group's leader. Those are going a bit far.

Somewhere...

"Miaow... huh?"

Spangles hadn't really been paying attention to the air. Usually, things that wanted to eat him quickly became things that Spangles ate. Upon being plucked off his feet, and hauled up into the air, it took him a few seconds to realise what was going on.

"What the..." Spangles craned his head around to see what was carrying him off, "You know, I'm seriously going to have to kick your ass now."

With a bright purple flash, the 8lb little black kitty abruptly changed into a 300lb giant black Jaguar. Spangles wasn't too concerned about being dropped, seeing how he always landed on his feet and all.


Elsewhere...

Doyle was hiding in the shrubbery, occasionally popping up to shoot a sedative-tipped arrow into the fray. He watched as another wizard of some sort showed up and fried the sarge and a few of the lads.

"What is this, a wizard's field day?" he muttered, as he watched the wall of flames leap up from the ground. That would get in the way a bit. He turned to a couple of elves next to him, "Go back ta the camp, and get reinforcements! Tell 'em we got actual multiple wizards in the area!"

A few muck-covered Marsh Elves attempted to leap out of the trees onto Aerol and Verton, while those stuck outside the wall of flame now turned on Aramil, trying to subdue them and entangle them in the nets they were carrying.

Verton cursed as marsh elves started leaping across the fire from tree branches.

His staff, coated in lightning, sliced through a net like a cobweb and blasted its bearer backwards. A bolt of concentrated fire picked off another of the creatures. He knew they couldn't last much longer, though... if the elves that got past the flames didn't manage to defeat them, the wall itself would soon die.

A spearpoint got past his guard, red light flickering from his shield before his staff crashed down on the marsh elf's head. Verton concentrated, determined to go down hard...

OOC: I don't think Stickwood took it badly, but if you did, please say so.

IC: Above Stickwood Swamp
"Whoa! You're a bit more than I expected!" Aurian gasped as he transformed into a colossal Roc and his talons bit harder into the Jaguar. He prepared for a fun fight, but then heard a distress call: It was Aramil. "Listen, Kitty, I wish I had all the time in the world, but my master needs me. Feel free to come along if you want, we'll talk along the way. Or I can just drop you if that's what you'd prefer. If you choose to stay, I'd prefer if you could become something smaller." The roc soared along, shooting across the sky to Aramil.

Stickwood Swamp, Somewhere Else:
Aramil realized he might be in a bit over his head. His knife flew out and hit one of the marsh elves in the head, while he was conjuring up an ice blast to freeze the closest ones. The other wizard was putting up a good show, but he wasn't sure how long they'd last. He sent out a distress call to Aurian.

Seeing the small and ever pungent marsh elves, the half-demon, highly offened by thier smell, he began pounding on the elves as well as gutting any of the elves that didn't instantly flee.

OOC: I would prefer to post the demise of my named characters myself, although since Marsh elves are cheap and plentiful, it wasn't of any consequence in that circumstance.

Up in the air

Everyone's a familiar these days. Spangles remembered the good old times, when he could maul an unsuspecting attacker without worrying about them turning into an even bigger monster.

"I'm going to assume that you have the sense not to try and eat me again." said Spangles, as he shrank back down to kitty size, "Would your master happen to be one of those heroic wizard types who happens to like... Ugh, I hate you, Durbin... 'Morally compromising gorgeous blonde enchantresses'? Only I have one that needs rescuing kind of urgently."


Down in the mud

The Marsh elves had lost half their number by now, but that was fairly usual. In terms of lives, Marsh elves came pretty cheap, and tended to equate dead comrades to a larger share of loot. The ones outside the fire wall bundled into Aramil, trying to disrupt his spellcasting. One of them leapt up onto the wizard's shoulders from behind, trying to clap a metal collar around his neck.

"Alright, you wizards, you knows we got ya surrounded!" yelled Doyle from his bush, "Drop yer weapons now, and stop blowin' stuff up, and we won't kill ya just yet!"

The half-demon seeing a yelling and very smelly marsh elf, he ran over to behind the smelly elf and holding his nose with one hand, picked it up with the other hand and began shaking it trying to get it to either shut up or stop smelling.

Not so far up in the air
"I'd be willing to bet your beautiful enchantress in human, fight? Well sorry, then my master won't go for her. He's an elf. Although he might consider rescuing her just for revenge on the Marsh Elves." Aurian, seeing the battle below, went into a steep dive.

On the Ground
Aramil was getting desperate. He had just frozen about five more, but they had him surrounded. Suddenly, a huge Roc flew down and picked him up. Aramil thanked his Familiar, but continued to rain spells down on the Marsh elves.

"You won't kill us yet?!? That's hardly reassuring. Let us go in peace, and I'll stop blowing things up."

Verton summoned an explosive charge; if the answer was anything besides agreement or a call for retreat, he would throw it at the bush. He knew he was basically bluffing, though; the wall would be down in less than a minute. He had to trick them into thinking this was his intention, or escape was very unlikely indeed....

OOC: The explosion will be weak enough that it won't kill Doyle unless it lands pretty close to him.
Unfortunately, I won't be able to post over the weekend. Sorry about that.

As the marsh elves continued to try to leap over the fire wall, Aerol's sword, hand and arm dripped red (or whatever color marsh elf blood is). A steadily growing pile of corpses had developed around him and Verton and it seemed as if the elves had given up trying to attack them, or they'd been distracted by something else. He turned to Verton and spoke quietly, "How much longer can you keep this wall up?"
"Not long," was Verton's quick reply.
"When it goes down, we should rush at them yelling, it's the last thing they'll expect and we might be able to finish them off while they're reacting."
While Verton considered the plan, Aerol cleaned off his sword and arm, turning a small rag in his knapsack completely red (or whatever).

ooc:
mind if i join?
ic:
somewhere to the wes of the fiasco
a man walks quietly among the trees, trying to focus on the hunt instead of the ruckus to his left
Curiosity gets the best of him, and he creeps towards th noise, atlatl ready and the khukuri loose in its sheath

In the Air:
"You know, it's not exactly like I can keep up this colossal form indefinitely," snapped Aurian. "I'm carrying this cat too. I'll explain it later." Aurian quickly set Aramil and the cat down in the high bows of a tree and proceeded to break off all the branches with his talons. Once that was done, he transformed back into a falcon and perched on Aramil's hat. Those humans down there look like they're in some trouble, Aramil thought. He continued casting fireballs and the like down at the marsh elves from his lofty position.

Doyle found himself being shaken around by some odd looking person who had managed to sneak up on him. He had been distracted by laughing at one of his Marsh elf underlings running around trying to hold his guts in, but really, he should have been paying attention.

"Aiaiaiaiaiaaiaiaiaiaia!!" Doyle yelled, and attempted to stick his dagger between the half-demon's ribs.

----

Meanwhile, the rest of the Marsh elf forces were almost completely destroyed; it was only a patrol, and some reinforcements who happened to be nearby. The last few still standing, and capable of running, turned and fled into the swamp, yelping and shrieking as they ran away.

A few Marsh elves remained, those that couldn't run away. One, which Aerol had practically chopped in half, lay twitching around on the floor, and would probably shortly be dead. Another, which had been set on fire by Aramil, was ignoring everything else that was going on, running around trying to put out his hair. A third, whom Verton had fetched a blow to the leg with his staff, had tried hobbling away, before collapsing into a sobbing heap, and pleading "Pleaaaaase don't kill meeeeeeeee!!"

----

Spangles had managed to get himself a comfortable position on Aramil's shoulder, and was sitting preening himself while the rest of the fight was concluded.

When the Marsh Elves appeared to be defeated, Spangles leaned over to Aramil's ear, "Miaow? Ahem, couldn't spare a moment, could you, Squire?"

The half-demon snarled at the annoyning, loud and smelly marsh elf, so he tossed it up and on it's fall smashed it in the mid back with his fist using enought strength that it's back would break but it would remain alive.

"When it goes down, we should rush at them yelling, it's the last thing they'll expect and we might be able to finish them off while they're reacting."


Meanwhile, the rest of the Marsh elf forces were almost completely destroyed; it was only a patrol, and some reinforcements who happened to be nearby. The last few still standing, and capable of running, turned and fled into the swamp, yelping and shrieking as they ran away.

A few Marsh elves remained, those that couldn't run away. One, which Aerol had practically chopped in half, lay twitching around on the floor, and would probably shortly be dead. Another, which had been set on fire by Aramil, was ignoring everything else that was going on, running around trying to put out his hair. A third, whom Verton had fetched a blow to the leg with his staff, had tried hobbling away, before collapsing into a sobbing heap, and pleading "Pleaaaaase don't kill meeeeeeeee!!"

"It looks like that won't be needed." Verton said, as the flames flickered out and the lightning faded from his staff. Leaning on the staff, he trudged toward the sobbing Marsh elf.

"Try to escape and you'll die. Cooperate, and you'll live. Why did you attack us?" he demanded.

The marsh elf made no move to escape, but it didn't exactly cooperate with Verton either. It continued to sprawl on the ground and mumbled incoherently. Obviously, this one ws going to take some convincing.
Aerol crouched crouched down next to the marsh elf and grinned. "In the past 4 days, I have eaten one bite of chicken and bread." His grin widened as he ran the tip of his finger down the length of his sword. "Tell him what he wants to know and I might not eat you."

Spangles had managed to get himself a comfortable position on Aramil's shoulder, and was sitting preening himself while the rest of the fight was concluded.

When the Marsh Elves appeared to be defeated, Spangles leaned over to Aramil's ear, "Miaow? Ahem, couldn't spare a moment, could you, Squire?"
Aramil quickly despatched a small evil looking fire elemental to deal with the fleeing marsh elves, while freezing the one who had been previously caught on fire for later interrogation. "Excuse me, but I am not a squire, I am a Junior Wizard of the Collegiate Arcane of Caladonn, an elven kingdom far from here. I'm only here because of a teleportation accident. As for your master being a beautiful blonde maiden, not only do I doubt that very highly, but even if I didn't, I don't go in for humans anyway. If you'll excuse me, I need to go talk to those two brave adventurers who helped me finish off those marsh elves." He floated down from the tree, and approached the two humans.

OOC: Would you mind if I joined? This would be the first time I RPed, but I loved the opening post, very Pratchet-esque.

OOC: Would you mind if I joined? This would be the first time I RPed, but I loved the opening post, very Pratchet-esque.

OOC: Sure. Although, any more hardcore wizards show up, and I might have to give the Marsh elves some kind of... *ahem* Equaliser.

IC:

Spangles clung onto Aramil's shoulder, "She's a babe, I swear!" The cat projected a brief mental image of a tall, slender blonde, in a skimpy robe adorned with lots of sexy runes, "What more could you want? Damn sexually apathetic elves... Look, she hangs out with all these other babe enchantresses, they're kinda like a travelling orgy. There's a few elves in there. Come on, there's even a drow, whatever floats your boat. But if you don't rescue her in the next, oh, couple of hours or so, then our stinky little friends down there are going to sacrifice her to that lunatic demon Grungruk whose ass they all kiss, you know, the one that eats wizards for breakfast because he thinks magic tastes fizzy? That's the peril I- uh, we're in here!"

-----

The Marsh elf with the broken leg grovelled and fawned over Aerol's boots, wailing, "Pleeeeaaaase don't kill me!! We only done it 'cos the sarge tole us to!"

-----

Snap, crack, gurgle, alas poor Doyle, I knew him well, Horatio. Having had his back neatly broken, Doyle lies twitching on the floor, frothing at the mouth a bit, with his eyes rolled up in their sockets. And, it soon becomes apparent that dying marsh elves smell even worse than regular ones.

The half-demon, with his arm still covering his nose lept over the bushes to land by the cat, he walked up to the cat, picked it up and asked "You know what I'm suppose to do, so tell me."

ooc: appearance: human with cat ears, yellow eyes, blue hair and claws instead of fingernails

OOC: I was think more of a group of adventurers, following a "genuine" treasure map.

Wulfstan sighed. "We're lost. We've been following that map for days. All its got us is cold and wet."
Alfred span round, almost slipping over in the filthy mud. "I'm telling you, its genuine! You won't be complaining when we find it!"
"Ha! If I had a pound every time you've said that in the past few days, we wouldn't need any "lost treasure"."
Alfred, self-proclaimed Greatest Swordsman in the World, shoved the map into a pocket and pulled a battered broadsword from his scabbard.
"Say that again, will you?"
Wulfstan drew the double-handed sword strapped across his back.
"If I had a pound- "
"Shut up, you two." The third and final member of the group stepped forward. "We have hardly anything better to be doing. We're stuck in the middle of nowhere."
"Styckwoode, it says on this map."
"Yes, and that old man you bought it from may as well have drawn it himself."
"Anything else to say, have you two? No? Well, we make camp here for tonight. It's getting too dark to see."

Aramil sighed. "Look, there's not much point in you telling all these pointless lies. Even if you were telling the truth, that drow would have put me off pretty quickly. However, I suppose I may decide to help your master, even though he tells his familiar to lie to passing strangers. Unless you just concocted that all on your own."

Spangles gave the half demon a disdainful look, "You're supposed to be rescuing all the wizards from the Marsh elves, over thataway. Off you go. Now, excuse me..."

He wriggled free, and hopped back onto Aramil's shoulder, "But all the cool kids are into drow chicks these days. It's that skimpy armour, and the lack of any inhibitions. You know, in my last manifestation, before I got lumbered with that hopelessly incompetent Durbin- er, Durbina, I was familiar to the Drow Wizard Drivv'l, oh, about six hundred years ago, and you should have seen some of the things they got up to down there. I tell you, abdominal muscles aren't supposed to bend that way. Do you know how they killed him? They put fire ants in his bondage trousers. I went all round the underdark trying to find someone to help, but everyone thought it was funny. In the end, I got into an argument with some dumb beholder about whether there are three or four states of matter, he said three, but I was like, 'Plasma, duh.' What were we talking about, again?"

"Dammit," Aerol sat down on a rock, "I was hoping to eat you." The marsh elf lay patheticly on the ground and Aerol poked it with a stick. "Why are you out here attacking people?"
"Grungruck," mumbled the elf.
Aerol poked it again, "You'll have to speak up, I can't hear you."
The elf lifted its head, this time it had a wierd look in its eyes as it gazed at Verton. "Grungruck the Wizard Eater," it said in a detatched voice.
"I'm sure he is," said Aerol, "Where does Grungruck live?"
"His shrine is in our village, that way," the elf pointed towards a patch of marshland that looked exactly the same as the rest, while still looking at Verton strangely.

"Alright." He picks the cat back up and heads in the indicated direction.

"Dammit," Aerol sat down on a rock, "I was hoping to eat you." The marsh elf lay patheticly on the ground and Aerol poked it with a stick. "Why are you out here attacking people?"
"Grungruck," mumbled the elf.
Aerol poked it again, "You'll have to speak up, I can't hear you."
The elf lifted its head, this time it had a wierd look in its eyes as it gazed at Verton. "Grungruck the Wizard Eater," it said in a detatched voice.
"I'm sure he is," said Aerol, "Where does Grungruck live?"
"His shrine is in our village, that way," the elf pointed towards a patch of marshland that looked exactly the same as the rest, while still looking at Verton strangely.

OOC: Er... excuse me? I do the Marsh Elves around here, pal. :p

OOC: Yes, maybe your heroes should encounter our group instead of hijacking stickwood's marsh elves. Just my opinion though.

IC: "There are obviously four states of matter," Aramil said. "And to think Beholders are thought of as smart! Oh, anyway, we were talking about how you wanted to persuade me to save your "Dubin/Durbina." I think I might want to help your master, but first I need to confer with these other heroes." He got up and walked toward them. They seemed busy interrogating a marsh elf.

I didn't mean to hijack the elf, all I did was make it say two sentences because this:

"Why did you attack us," said Aerol.

Would be a pretty pathetic RP.

I didn't mean to hijack the elf, all I did was make it say two sentences because this:

"Why did you attack us," said Aerol.

Would be a pretty pathetic RP.

OOC: Normaly, I wouldn't mind too much, but in this case, the response wasn't accurate. Also, the Elf already answered that question.

I'll repeat it, just to be concise:

The Marsh elf with the broken leg grovelled and fawned over Aerol's boots, wailing, "Pleeeeaaaase don't kill me!! We only done it 'cos the sarge tole us to!"

Anyway, sometimes 1-line posts are unavoidable. If I didn't have Spangles waxing lyrical about drow and beholders, mine wouldn't be much longer. :p

Daylight had long since dawned, and the land looked even less accomodating than when at night. Wulfstan put this down to the fact he could see it. The worse thing was the mud. It was even in his hair, which was odd since he hadn't taken his helmet off since they had entered this place.
"Are we still following the map?" He said to break the silence that had decended on the group the argument last night.
Alfred banged his fore-head.
"I knew I'd forgotten something!"
"You've lost it? Brilliant."
Thurstan pushed up his helm and wiped his face, but only succeeding in spreading more mud on himself.
"OK, you two, that's enough. We'll go back to where we camped."
"Errr... Which way's that, boss?"
"That wa- I don't know."
Wulfstan took a stp foreward. Then he was hanging upside down from a snare.

ooc: Stickwood? Really, really sorry to have dropped the ball on this. I don't know if you got my telegram but the forum wouldn't let me in. Then I went on vaction for a week. I'm leaving home yet again tomorrow and the day after. When I get home after that I'll read up and try to jump back in. Again, I'm really sorry about this...

Greer yawned and stretched. He had managed to fall asleep in the awkward position the tree forced him to take. With a groan, he rose from the tree and cracked his back. He slowly turned to take in his surroundings and saw someone in the distance. Intrigued, he squished his way through the mud towards him. He began to realize there was something odd about this someone. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that this someone was hanging upside down from a tree. There was a small group of people here and Greer failed to suppress a chuckle as he approached them.

"Hey! Don't leave your buddy hanging!"

OOC: I don't think Tagmatium's adventuring party is, but the Marsh Elves we're fighting are.

OOC: Is this dead? Perhaps we need a cleric to resurrect it. :(
That was bad, I know.

OOC: This really is dead. Oh well.