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    posted a message on Abandoned
    Quote from Pandolen»

    Ezmond almost had himself some sort of heart failure when Ariels swords came flying at him and you can imagine his relief when the point of blade came to a stop just a fleas lick from his chest. He swiped that ol straw hat from his head as a matter of respectful thanksgiving and stretched out his hand to greet Renard.


    “You can call me Ezmond!” He introduces himself with a mighty fine smile; “The greatest wizard who ever lived – And hot diggity damn, I hereby stand in your debt! If an exorcism is what ya want, then by golly I'm your man!”


    Taken aback by the man's strange accent for a second, Renard hesitates before shaking Ezmond's hand.
    "Nice to meet you, Mr. 'greatest wizard who ever lived'," he says wryly. "It's decided, then. I'll take lead for now, then, if you're as competent as you say you are, you can go work your magic on the entity."
    Renard turns his back on Ezmond quickly, mostly to hide the confusion on his face. He had only heard the man's strange way of speaking at least once in his lifetime, and it was quite recent to boot. Nevertheless, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and pushed on with the man at his back, going through the door that Ariel's body had snuck through.
    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on Abandoned
    Quote from Buttons»


    One thing about being a ghost, or a soul, emotions are much more raw and absolute, not mixed or diluted like when you have a physical body that influences diversity in responses, so the anger Ariel had for Ezmond at that very point in time was unadulterated. Another thing about being a ghost, is that response time was practically instantaneous, so when hearing the voice of his friend call out for him to stop - despite the great speed that the sword was being driven towards Ezmonds - Ariel came to a complete halt with the tip of the blade floating in the air just a few millimeters from Ezmond's chest.

    It was strange really, how the realization of so many things could happen in the smallest moment. It seemed unnatural, but wonderful at the same time. No matter how different each change of emotion was from one to another, his mind was present and fully alert with each of these changes. In an instant he went from rage to joy, no middle man, as he turned to look at Renard with a smile he couldn't see, then spoke to him in a voice he couldn't hear;

    "I've never felt so damn glad to see someone alive."

    With a fancy spin of his sword, Ariel dropped the blade to the floor, resting the hand of his soul on the pommel as if the weapon were now a cane. But he had no idea what else to do now, so he just stood there joyously smiling at Renard. He didn't care that Renard couldn't see his pleasure, and he didn't even question how Renard had managed to pull of the seemingly impossible. Ariel was just happy to see him alive. Simple as that.


    At some point while this was happening, the demon, along with Ariel's body, decided to escape out the door on the opposite side of the room to where Ezmond had entered. He was gone.


    Renard felt weak. It was as if his very soul was trying to tear itself out of his body. No way he could start any more fights in his current state. There would be repercussions for having recovered so quickly-- but it was also likely a blessing, because if he had tried stabbing himself while he was still alive, it would instead have fragmented him a second time, thus creating another unwanted copy of him.

    Shuddering at the mere thought of this, he turns to look at the sword that had come to rest in front of the man who had barged in a few minutes ago. That was definitely his friend Ariel; he'd seen him briefly while he was dead, after all.

    'So wait,' he thinks to himself. 'Who was...'
    Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ariel's body inconspicuously leaving through a door. Blasted.

    Renard's mental to-do list becomes larger every second. It seemed to him that every minute he spent in this place, something important would happen and he would make a new enemy. First, that band of murderers, though he'd largely forgotten what they'd done, second, that dragon, though its victim somehow got up and walked away, and third, that beast who had killed him. He would have to take care of them all sooner or later, though the reason for his strange obligation to do so is yet to be known to even himself. There was also the matter of finding both that one little girl and Maras, but he hadn't the faintest clue about where any of them were.

    Absent-mindedly patting his back for his triple-barrelled flintlock pistol, he squints at the man in front of him. He was somewhat familiar-- the face, the voice... had he met this person before?
    "Nice to meet you," he says, straining his voice as he continues to look for his gun. "The name's Renard, master engineer, etcetera, etcetera..."
    He finally comes to a realisation, looking back at the door where Ariel's body had escaped through.
    "He's got my damn gun...!" he shouts, wide-eyed. "Look, you," he says, pointing at the man, "I dunno what you did, but you better take responsibility and help me exorcise the whats-it in my friend's body."

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
  • 0

    posted a message on Abandoned
    Quote from NightsRemnant»


    While Renard comes to lay face up on the floor and the demon prolongs his next move, the haunting chorus of wolves breaks Ezmond's spell on Ezra. In less than an instant he realizes he has been freed, then in one continuous motion he removes the sword from his neck, takes three long strides towards Renard, and drives the sword down through his stomach, pinning him to the floor.

    With a hair raising screech of victory, he takes his sights to Ezmond while cocking his head to listen at the wolves.

    "I have been relieved of duty."

    In his closing words, Ezra glances at the demon in Arial's body before changing to his ethereal form, fading into the air and passing out sight through the nearest wall.



    Quote from Buttons»
    The demon looks to Ezmond when the spell was cast on Ezra, then watches curiously as Renard misses his mark, at which he was little humored and let out a small hissing sound. When the wolves then howled and break the spell on Ezra, the demon didn't have time - or maybe he just didn't care enough - to reach Renard in time to try and save him. He had started his advance across the room to assault the beast, but by time he arrived Renard was already pinned to the floor and Ezra had vanished from the room. The demons turns to look at Ezmond through Ariel's eyes and mocks the man.

    "Well done, Wizard. Who's your next victim?"

    Meanwhile Ariel, or rather his soul, is frantic in his efforts to try and help. His screams and yelling apparently continue to go unheard, and as he watches Ezra plant his own sword in Renards gut, it feels like his own soul is being stabbed with the torment of being helpless to the cause. He was so distressed by what took place that his soul circled around Renards body, yelling at him to wake up, telling him to heal, while his ghostly hands grasped and clutched to try and remove the sword, as if doing so would somehow undo the past five minutes and make everything ok again.

    Oddly enough, in his frantically emotional effort to try and do something, anything at all, the hand of his soul suddenly takes grip on the swords. He can feel the cold metal of the hilt tantalize the his touch as the contours of his hand conform to the texture of the grip. In a moment of epiphany he recognized his ability to maintain his hold on the weapon and with a swift move - forgetting that removing the blade from Renard might actually make matters worse and cause him to bleed out faster if he wasn't already dead - he withdraws the swords from his friend.

    The sword rises in the air, wielded by Ariel's unseen soul as he swings it fast at Ezra, but his efforts came too late and the blade merely cut through air as Ezra disappeared through the wall.

    Infuriated by the harm to his friend and his own lack of help, Ariel turns blame to Ezmond, gripping the sword in both hands above his head as he flies fast across the room to plant the blade in Ezmond's chest in a downward stabbing motion.



    Renard continues to stare at the ceiling whilst the reality of the blade lodged in his stomach starts to become more and more apparent. A slight frown forms on his lips whilst blood trickles from it simultaneously. A sword through the stomach-- a little ironic to him, since that was the same way Faux had went out. After all, he was the same person, or at least a fragment. He tries to laugh, but nothing comes out. The pain had gotten worse enough, making him numb to the blade in his stomach, though he feels as if something is being tugged from him. He wonders to himself-- was there a place in heaven for someone like him? In actuality, asking that kind of question was similar to asking whether dogs go to heaven or not.

    'Ah well,' he thinks to himself, the sweet relief of death taking him as he closes his eyes. Moments pass, and his thoughts continue, still having not been cut off by death. He thinks of this as strange, considering he was supposed to be dead.

    Renard opens his eyes to find himself standing over his own dead body, unfortunately reaffirming that he was in fact dead. Now with a chance to finally see Faux in person, he deduces that he must've been a real ladykiller, what with the golden coat and handsome face even in death. It was a little too bad those traits hadn't carried over completely. Looking around the room, it seemed as if he was now on another plane of existence, because he could now see his friend floating about, albeit time seemed to be stopped and so was Ariel. He holds his hands up in the air and checks himself out. Regular him, cape and all, though the whole being dead thing puts a damper on his happiness.

    It still hurt. Such a thing was impossible, but the pain still lingered in his soul. Even in stopped time, the source of his pain, his sword 'Truth', continues to vibrate violently on the floor. He takes one look at Ariel who seemed to have a grip on the sword that had impaled him. Emulating this, Renard, knowing what to do, slowly grabs the sword off the floor. He had no idea what it would do now, but he still thought about it before doing anything. Dying peacefully was enticing-- now he could be released from all the troubles of the world. What good could he do for the world? He wasn't really meant to exist in the first place. Was there a point in continuing?

    Loose ends. Loose ends and revenge. That's why he decides to continue on, despite all the pain coming from the sword he will undoubtedly continue to suffer. He takes one good look at the sword-- despite its appearance, it was holding his regular body within it. All he had to do was release it.

    After much deliberation, Renard spins the sword around in his hand out of habit and prepares.
    "And with this... may Faux Ambrose rest in peace! Switch!"

    Holding the sword firmly, he drives the sword directly into his former body. A beam of light begins to take form, blinding Renard briefly as he is brought into the present. Gravity begins to weigh down on him, now that he has been given form. His signature black cape flutters impossibly in the non-existent wind, whilst his brown leather armour complements it nicely. He rests his hands comfortably on the sword clipped to his side, which was Maras' creation. It continues to emanate a light purple glow in its sheath. Soon enough, the beam of light begins to die down, and looking at the floor, he notices that Faux's body was now gone, the sword impaling it also having disappeared. The beast that had killed him was gone, too. He wonders exactly how much time had passed, but nonetheless, he looks around the room for the mystery sword, finally spotting it strangely flying through the air. It was impossibly heading for a man he hadn't seen before at all. Renard tries to move, but trips and falls on his buttocks with a loud thud, mostly because he would have to get used to this body again.

    He curses himself for not having made his return more stylish, and being stylish was meant to be his defining trait.
    "Stop!" he yells, knowing exactly what was behind the flying sword.

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
  • 0

    posted a message on Abandoned
    Quote from NightsRemnant»


    The demons move caused Ezra to loosen his grip and become off balanced while the sound of Renard's shot stunned the room. Ezra releases one wing to move back his arm and regard the smoke billowing from the small hole in his side. No blood is present. Simultaneously, the demon makes his next move, thrusting Ariel's sword into his neck -The sword exits the other side as Ezra stumbles away screeching, turning as he does so and causing the sword to be yanked from Ariel's grip. He continues to stumble to the center of the room, away from the demon and raises his arms in a cross formation as he yells out the word NO loud enough for all in the mansion to hear.


    Ezra's wounds do not appear to be fatal, only serving to anger him. Without first removing the sword from his neck, he sets his sights on Renard and starts charging at him with great speed, his massive clawed hands ready to rip the small man apart.


    Quote from Pandolen»



    But then it happened! the big ol crack from the next room, followed by that loud beastly yell, which kinda gave Ezmond some indication of where that Demon went off too. Sounded like whoever was in the next room was encountering a bit of trouble for themselves. Now since he was feeling all responsible for setting the Demon free of its previous spell, he went on ahead and opened the door to the next next room, which just so happened to be the kitchen. Just as the door opened, he saw a great ol beastly creature charging at some poor little man in a golden cape. Didn't seem to Ezmond like that little man had much of chance. Ezmond so too saw some other guy with wings, and judging by the look in that guys eyes, Ezmond knew exactly where that demon soul had gone!


    First things first though! Ezmond had to stop that little man from getting hurt by that big beastly thing with a sword stuck in its neck, so without even a gosh darn second to lose, he raised both hands open and yelled out, STOP! -


    Instantaneously, the charging beast was frozen in its tracks, and was the only one effected by the spell. He looks at the Demon possessed man and the other golden cloaked man down on his knees and asked them straight up:


    "What in gosh darn tarnation is going on around here??"


    Renard grimaced as feelings of regret begin to surface upon sight of the beast charging him.
    "Spent," hissed Renard angrily, referring to his now-empty pistol sword. This was it for him. He would die without any feats to speak of. His consciousness ebbed with every second. Black mists swirled at the edges of his mind, bringing him to his inevitable oblivion. Fuzzy, indecipherable images began to bleed into his vision. Every jostle sends ripples of pain through his entire body. It occurred to Renard during this that a few fractured ribs could not possibly be painful enough for hallucinations to appear.

    There were no more gambits, and no more tricks up his sleeve. Renard gathered enough will to try to move his frozen body and make possibly his last move. His perception of time seemed to slow down as he watched the beast move incredibly fast towards him. If it was smart, it would most certainly catch him if he tried to roll out of the way. He curses his sword, which hadn't stopped violently shaking and had now started to produce a ominous red glow.

    'This kind of sucks,' he thought to himself as he launched into a defensive lunge, his sword directly aiming to pierce the beast. Something that takes a matter of a few seconds seems like hours to him. His eyes close tightly.

    'Fly', a voice whispered in the darkness, but he could not do anything of the sort. As his descent continues to last for what feels like all of eternity, a familiar scene begins to construct itself through the darkness. It was similar to his dreams. A place, best described as a sword graveyard, and the final resting place of his original self, Faux, who had died from his wounds following a large-scale battle-- at least that was what he was told by the man himself. But this was Renard's own dream world now, not the one that Faux had constructed for him, evidence enough that he was finally truly recovering his memory. What was being showed to him at this very instant was the one and only truth, not the one perpetuated by Faux. Unfortunately, every step he took towards recovering his memory meant losing his own identity for Faux's, until eventually he stops existing. It occurs to Renard that this was most likely part of Faux's plan-- just an incredibly roundabout way of reviving himself through the fragment he left behind. Renard's very soul was merely an unexpected obstacle... but how did this situation come to be in the first place?

    As Renard's revelatory thoughts began to dissipate, he noticed something he hadn't seen a few moments ago. A small figure, scarcely visible in the evening twilight. Through their small stature and extravagantly golden-coloured coat, he realises who it is instantly. The figure winces visibly and crouches, as if suffering from a great pain. The sword by their side emanates a red glow and begins to shake violently. Knowing what to do, they force themselves to grab their sword and get up-- only to promptly impale themselves through the stomach with their own sword. Almost simultaneously as this happens, a beam of light appears in the distance and the sword disappears almost immediately. The figure collapses. Renard realises he has just watched his own conception.

    It was the curse of the sword-- it took Faux's emotions and translated them into pain. At first, the magical sword, modified by him, was a blessing. It was extremely powerful, at least in the right hands, though really it wasn't in the right hands. The 'Truth' was not simply just a sword; it exists everywhere, at any time, and in any plane of reality. It was a pen, and the author wielding it had the power to rewrite history, and therefore the truth with it. In Faux's hands, though, it was just a good sword to him. He was the only one who could at least swing with it without being horribly electrocuted by one of the sword's inner functions, so he gave up engineering to fight for his country. But, alas, as he continued on the path of a killer rather than an engineer, regret started to build up in him, causing him great pain. But the only way to stop it was to continue to kill with the sword, meaning that he was only perpetuating a cycle.

    Faux couldn't take it anymore and decided to end his own life. But his last and worst mistake was doing it with the very sword that caused all his pain in the first place. Killing himself with it served to fragment his soul and create a new body, and the sword began to act as a storage device for their respective bodies, with Faux able to manifest himself at least once.

    This was all speculation on Renard's part, though he suspected that it was all mostly true. As he recovers more memories, he would naturally remember Faux's regret. The impact he had from being thrown into a wall had really just incited him to remember more, causing the sword to start to hurt him. Then it occurs to Renard-- how was he still falling?

    Renard hits the floor face-down with a dull thud. His sword, still shaking violently, clatters on the ground. Had he missed the beast? How was he still alive? He recalls a single word having been yelled whilst he lunged at the beast, though he couldn't make the hazy voice out in the heat of the moment.
    He rolls over and faces the ceiling with a sigh. The pain was getting worse, but at the same time it was starting to become number. After a short few moments he hears a voice speak out, questioning what was happening, in a strangely familiar accent that he had heard before.

    "I ask myself that question everyday," he mutters to himself.
    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
  • 1

    posted a message on Just another regular forum game (Paint.net Adventures)

    Flirt with it and compliment the glass' smooth texture.

    Posted in: Forum Games
  • 0

    posted a message on Abandoned
    Quote from NightsRemnant»

    Renard, noticing the convenient opportunity, carefully tries to line up his shot. The sword shakes in his hands-- mostly due to the agonising pain in his ribs. He pauses for a few seconds in order to catch his breath and hold it long enough to keep his aim steady, a short period of time that may unfortunately leave enough time for some damage to be done to Ariel's wings.

    "The two don't look too different from each other," mutters Renard as a passing observation. "Demon and beast..."
    His moral compass starts to spin wildly out of control. Whoever he shoots, the outcome would not be good either way. There was no right choice to make-- only his loyalty for his friend could make his decision.

    The pistol sword shoots and the air shatters with a loud crack. The bullet tears through space, and silence falls in its wake.
    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
  • 0

    posted a message on Abandoned
    Quote from Buttons»


    After declaring his lack of respect for the monster, Ariel looks at Renard half smiling, hardly the image of a man going through the discomfort of physical changes or one possibly about to die. He seems playfully minded at the turn of events.

    "Plan? Sure, why not." He squints, looking thoughtfully to one side for an instant, then suggests in a whisper; "Ever played piggy in the middle?"

    He was hoping that Renard caught the meaning, coming right out saying 'diversion tactics' would have defeated the initial purpose had the beast heard the words. Ariel is also aware of the pistol still snugly tucked in the back of his belt.

    "If it helps, grab your toy from me at the best time. I'm not good with boom-boom. - And try aiming for the peepers."

    He can tell Renard is injured, but there was no time to coddle the kid, they had to make a move. He gives Renard a jerk of his head in the beasts direction. "Your lead or mine?"


    Quote from Buttons»

    In the kitchen, where Ariel is still waiting for Renard to respond in the face of attacking Ezra, the loud explosion out in the hallway is also heard. In the wake of the blast a dark shadow enters and crosses the room like a body of black smoke. It moves so fast and quietly that Ariel didn't even see it coming. It entered his body with a jolt that sends Ariel to his buttocks on the floor. He sits there in a daze for a moment as his eyes bleed red, his wings turn a deep shade of grey and his skin is covered in black, web-like lines. Two K-9 type fangs extend down from his upper jaw at the corners of his mouth. In an instant he's on his feet, his sickly looking wings fluttering as he stares at Ezra and then turns his attention to Renard, and says;

    "Stay!" His voice is deep and ominous, completely unlike that of Ariels voice; "I've got this...."

    Turning from Renard, Ariel, inhabited now by the demon, heads into battle against Ezra, floating above the floor as he swings his the sword at Ezra's neck with lightning speed.


    The soul of Ariel, meanwhile, was thrown from Ariel's body when the demon entered, and is frantically circling the room invisible to everyone, desperately trying to come to grips with the fact that he is now no more than a ghost

    Renard stands still for a few moments as his gaze wavers between Ariel and the beast, completely unaware that he was taking much too long and that the beast would surely make its move very soon. He deliberated on whether he should be the one to go-- as he was the smallest and therefore most likely the most agile of the two of them, but he was unsure of whether he could really withstand the pain from the injury he had just taken. Finally, having made his decision, he shakes his head and turns to Ariel.

    "Well, given the circumstances, you should--"

    Suddenly, Renard is pushed back as if a large gust of air had hit him, joined with a loud explosive noise that reminded him of the times guns had exploded in his face conveniently when he showed them off to an audience. His impractically extravagant golden coat flutters in the air briefly. As he tightly closes his eyes, he suddenly feels a great sense of dread wash over him.

    The dark voice that comes from Ariel jolts him awake-- directly looking at the 'angel', he stands there dumbfounded. He really had to throw away all his preconceptions about angels; was they really different from the fairy tales that his ma had told him, or was this man just an outlier? Frozen in confusion, he watches as Ariel rushes towards the enemy.

    "So, this is how you play piggy in the middle," he thinks to himself vocally. "As long as it works, I suppose..."

    As the pain in his ribcage was starting to pulsate, threatening to send him into a state of agony, he quickly kneels down. Mostly out of habit, Renard faux-unsheathes his sword from the air it had been occupying, accompanied by a 'shiiiiiing' sound that he makes with his mouth. He takes aim at the duo, waiting for a clear shot as to not hit his friend.

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
  • 0

    posted a message on Abandoned
    Quote from NightsRemnant»


    Quote from Buttons»

    Soon after hearing the thunderous voice, followed by the sound of a familiar female voice giggling - Ariel is caught by surprise, barely able to react at all to Ezra's arrival before he's thrown across the room and slammed into a wall. He crashes down to the floor, shaking his head a little to gather his senses, then with a still slightly dazed look he turn his sights to Renard beside him.

    "I guess we're up then?"

    Pushing to his feet, and still feeling a tad queasy from the changes his body is going through, he brandishes his swords and gives it a swift twirl at the beast on the other side of the room.

    "Welcome to the party, freak!"



    Renard hits the wall with a loud thud, knocking the wind out of him. He breaks into a coughing fit as he tries to get up slowly, slightly disoriented. The ensuing pain was unbearable; his small physique meant that the impact had guaranteed a few broken ribs.

    "Damn beasts," he sputters in between breaths, "they all smell foul, the lot of them. Where'd this one even come from?"

    Painful as it was, Renard still had to fight, and so he quickly got onto his feet, sword in hand. He glances over at Ariel, who had gotten up much faster than he had.

    "A plan, Ariel. We gotta come up with one, real quick."

    There was still at least one emergency card to play for himself in this ensuing battle-- a single bullet, lodged in the chamber of the small flintlock pistol which was attached to the blade of the sword he was carrying. Faux had already presumably used it earlier, but on this large mechanical sword, there was, surprisingly, room for two. Now that he thought about it, he had given away his flintlock pistol to Ariel earlier, too.

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
  • 0

    posted a message on Departure
    Quote from Darthrafael»

    Edgar makes his way to the door, and the chair turns with him, always facing towards Edgar.
    Going through the door, Edgar finds himself in a small basement room, with lots of jars with various types of food in them. Carrots, Pickled Onions, Eyeballs that seem to stare at Edgar, and other things.


    Edgar engages in a staring contest with the eyeballs before frowning and turning his attention to the jars. He opens a jar with a carrot inside and briefly sniffs it, taking in the aroma-- he was a food connoisseur, after all, so he would be able to ascertain as to whether anything was off about it. Having ensured that nothing is off about the carrot, he takes a bite out of it and heads through the northern door, carrot still in hand. Time was of essence, and a few jars of pickled onions and eyes were not interesting enough for him to stay put.
    Posted in: Forum Games
  • 0

    posted a message on Departure
    Quote from Darthrafael»

    Edgar seems to consider the chair for a few seconds, before shrugging and heading through the southmost door to his right.
    Posted in: Forum Games
  • 0

    posted a message on Departure
    Quote from Darthrafael»

    Edgar opens the nightstand, but finds nothing. All of it's drawers lack a bottom. The closet itself only contains some old, torn clothes.
    Even with the compartment closed, Edgar can hear the beating of the heart go faster and faster.


    Edgar pauses for a moment, mouth agape as he struggles to make sense of what exactly this heart was doing. He shakes his head-- acknowledging the ridiculousness of the situation would surely bring him to an end. He looks at the old clothes hung up in the closet and back at the clock; then, quickly, he takes the clothes, opens the clock compartment and wraps the heart with said clothes, pulling it out of the clock as he does so. He then ties it to his side for ease-of-use. Pondering what useful applications a heart would even have, he decides to try to return it to its rightful owner-- the mental image of someone having misplaced their heart by accident lingering in his mind.

    Feeling a little peckish, Edgar decides he had better get going, so he takes the southern door on a whim.
    Posted in: Forum Games
  • 0

    posted a message on Departure
    Quote from Darthrafael»

    As Edgar inspects the clock, he is horrified by what he sees. There is no internal mechanisms that seemingly cause the clock to tick, only a living, beating heart that seems to speed up as Edgar looks at it.


    After his initial surprise, Edgar contemplates something. He closes the compartment that holds the heart and decides to keep the clock with him, in case it meant something. A horrible sinking feeling washes over him temporarily; this place wasn't right. Nonetheless, with his left hand occupied with holding the clock, he makes a decision to open and examine both the nightstand and the closet.
    Posted in: Forum Games
  • 1

    posted a message on Departure
    Quote from Darthrafael»

    Edgar wakes up, lying on in an unfamiliar room. How he got there is a mystery to him. The small bedroom he finds himself in is almost silent, no noise except for a clock mounted above the door, ticking backwards. In the room he's in are two doors, a closet and a nightstand, but not much else.



    With a groan, Edgar helps himself up from the floor. He holds his head as he attempts to ascertain what exactly had happened to him. Nothing came of this-- his memories were too hazy. He had been on autopilot for the past few weeks, passing towns and lazing around at inns, trying out various foods... and then what next? This was the first time he had actually thought clearly in weeks; unfortunately, it was all too hazy, and he could not think of what had happened before he ended up in this room.

    Edgar sighs and turns his attention to the situation before him. He glances around the room, before eventually stopping at the clock, something which seemed to be of interest.
    "Right, then-- what have we here?" he mutters to himself in a decidedly British-sounding accent as he inspects the strange clock before him. He reaches for the clock and grabs it, checking its inner workings for anything suspicious that had been causing the clock to reverse.

    Posted in: Forum Games
  • 0

    posted a message on Departure

    Character Name: Edgar
    Character Pronoun (He, She, It, etc.): He
    Character Appearance (What they look like. Optional): Blonde, wavy hair. Wears a slightly damaged and worn-out chef's uniform. Various cooking and eating utensils are strapped to him, though none are good enough to be used as makeshift weapons.
    Extra Info (Backstory, Phobias, etc. Optional): Once a former chef, he now travels the world in a quest to eat all manners of food. He is unafraid of death, knowing that ethereal food might taste nice. Has a phobia of stairs.

    Posted in: Forum Games
  • 0

    posted a message on Abandoned
    Quote from Buttons»

    Ariel is amused by the immature remarks coming out of Renard's mouth, especially the bit about the icky icky girls, that was just cute and made Ariel chuckle a little, despite the growing onset of nausea he was feeling. Whatever had happened to him was entertaining if nothing else.

    "Well then..." He said, catching eye of the sword still floating around the room; "If you're not in the mood for food, how about we collect our things and head out?"

    Ariel forces himself to move on, fighting the fever and illness as best he can as he shuffles towards the nearest door and returns the sword to his back. "Oh, and one other thing," He says, struggling with the door handle that slips from the sweat of his grip; "what in the hell was that fight about earlier in the hallway with that dragon? And who was that other guy with you? I can't pick his face... not that I had the best view while spinning through the air. I'm guessing it was the same guy that just came to life and ran away then?"

    Renard doesn't move at all, despite Ariel having begun to leave the room. He shrugs and begins to reply.
    "Questions are answered, which leads to new questions that when answered lead to more questions. Never stops, does it? Not much of a path for us to follow-- just the passage of fate."
    The once aimlessly wandering sword stops in its tracks abruptly.
    "I fell into a deep sleep earlier, and I spoke to myself. Or rather, a boy... who was my past self."

    The sword slowly begins to rotate towards Renard.
    "He was supposed to be me... or maybe I was supposed to be him? The boy really tried to mince his words, and beat around the bush, but I understood what he really meant. I suppose I'm the remnant of a dead boy named Faux. Through his dying desire to escape the passage of fate, he created something he could continue to live through. Me, body and soul, something that shouldn't have come into existence. An anomaly, if you will."

    His eyes do not notice the sword beginning to move towards his chest.
    "I can feel myself fading away as every hour passes too," he says, a slight bit of panic evident in his eyes. "I think I haven't got much time. I lived this long, but my luck's running out. I'll cease to exist, no one'll remember me, and the world'll go on running its regular course through the passage of fate."

    The sword begins to dig into his chest-- not entirely piercing him yet.
    "He asked of me a task, and that is to help restore this town to its former glory. I'm not exactly obligated, but my heart tells me to do so, and so I will. I guess you could say I went through changes just like you have. I don't feel empty like I did earlier... I just feel uncertain. I only have a few days at best, but I can try to help restore this town to its former glory. As nothing more than an observer, of course."

    The sword finally brings Renard back in touch with reality. He quickly grabs the blade and spins the sword around, gripping the handle and guiding it into a non-existent scabbard at his hip.

    "Jesus, is this thing working against me...?"
    "Anyway," he says, shaking his head, "forget all that. It's a bit of a pain if we worry about too many things."

    Renard shakes his head again and begins to follow Ariel, whilst something resembling a frown forms on his face.
    "So, to actually answer your questions... the dragon belongs to that damned girl, remember? It's out of control. The dragon woke me up from my deep sleep, and for some reason, I was apparently locked in battle with the dragon even though I was sleeping. I was really confused-- and before I knew it, the dragon had gone and pierced the guy's neck."


    He pauses to think for a second, eyes fixated on his sword in case it tries anything again.

    "That guy, though... I've never seen him before. And he's now suddenly alive. Is it another illusion? What's an illusion and what's not? Is this entire mansion an illusion? How do we tell?!"


    "So... with that outta the way, here's what we gotta do while we're here: we have to go find your accursed girlfriend, tell her to discipline her pet or else, and then we gotta go grab those two other girls and get outta here. And if they're unwilling, which they most likely will be, then screw 'em, I don't need a bunch of nasty, icky girls in my party, I'll do just fine with Ariel... and also Maras. He's here somewhere... he's attracted to trouble, you see. It's like a trail of breadcrumbs to him. We'll find him. Let's be quick; I haven't much time here."

    He pauses briefly, shifting his eyes.
    "We should grab that guy too; maybe he can tell me the secret to cheating death.


    (Edit: Condensed)

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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