Zelda Universe Forums - The Crossroads http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/ Roleplaying board focused on character interaction and adventuring. Many a detailed story is woven within. en Sat, 21 Nov 2009 05:37:35 GMT vBulletin 60 http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/images/zutemple/misc/rss.jpg Zelda Universe Forums - The Crossroads http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/ This Is Odd (Stryder Aedernis) http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/102745-this-is-odd-stryder-aedernis-new-post.html Fri, 20 Nov 2009 22:39:42 GMT OoC: I'll be using Vanille de Nouveau x3 You wanted to use Luca more, right? I put him in at the end. I hope it's okay:

IC:



...Tracking...

There was a loud beeping sound that came from outside. It was loud to her because she was tuned to it. It was a sound she was used to hearing, even if it was slightly muffled by her strewn clothes or cushions on the couch. The young summoner turned over in bed, attempting to drown it out by covering her head, but her ears were so attuned to the message tone that she heard it even when she covered both of them.

"Okay, okay.. Je suis eveille..." She mumbled, her eyes half closed as she slid out of her velvet sheets. Things like that, and this room, they weren't so expensive in this time. There were better, more expensive materials out there now; most people didn't want things like velvet or silk. Prices dropped, people who could afford the once-luxuries bought them and made them into luxuries. Luxurious luxuries they were. Vanille loved sleeping in them, so much so that after waking up, she became a person who wasn't especially fond of mornings since they involved... leaving the bed. But those feelings would go away after a hearty breakfast and shower concert and she'd turn back into her normal self again.

She landed on all fours and literally crawled over to the sound on the couch. It wasn't a harrowing experience; the carpets were cream and plush. Vanille climbed up onto the soft couch and slowly slid her hands through her things until she felt the texture of her familiar armband, the Labann. When she pulled it out from under her clothes, the familiar blue hologram popped up, filled with various dots, words and numbers that her eyes were too blurry for her to make out for now. She only made out the big red letters that blinked with each beep.

"Tracking." It blinked on and off. It was indeed a message from the Peacekeeping Core from the Paris Interzone; the red blinking text meant that they were tracking a recently uncovered Remnant and that since she got the giant red blinking text on her Labann, it means they were telling her to go keep the peace. She touched the text and it immediately turned into a flurry of red, floating characters. These were the co-ordinates. They never really told her anything, so they didn't mean a lot to her. She could never make heads or tales of them. All she knew was that she had to summon Astaroth, show her the characters and they'd get going.

Vanille slipped on her armband and stood up. She was feeling more awake now, her eyes less blurry. She walked over to the kitchen; there was a food dispenser there. It was only good for making breakfast meals. That was all that was needed, since she'd be out doing her job all day. A hologram appeared over a single finger as she touched the dispenser. There was a small smile on her face as she whispered.

"Pain grille moyen et ouefs moyens." Breakfast was something to look forward to. Medium toast and medium-done eggs. It was how she liked them. And to save time she'd go straight into the shower while the dispenser was preparing her meal. There, she'd spend a bit of time rocking out on her guitar hologram. Shower concert. She grinned; she couldn't sing very well, but guitar has always been her strong point. She strove to be different! Don't sing in the shower, rock out!

Vanille was noticeably livelier when she came out of the shower; perhaps it was because her small pigtails. She quickly grasped up her breakfast plate and scarfed down its meager but extremely satisfying contents. Her summoner's outfit came on next, which consisted of a plug-suit (or plug-top, rather) a blue jeans (with her shades in the pocket) and her trademark sneakers. Quickly, she summoned Astaroth, who simply nodded as soon as the hologram of the red digits were shoved in her face. Immediately, they dispersed, and the hologram shut down as they were both engulfed by glowing runes.

She appeared on a rooftop. There was no time to look around, she was already focusing on the shouting going on from just below. There were some men, who were carrying swords and dressed similarly to each other, shouting up at her. Some of the men were trying to climb up to the rooftops to get where she was.

"Stop, thief!" she heard one very clearly. She pointed at herself inquisitively, mouthing "Moi..?" She had to turn to make sure they weren't pointing at someone else. In fact, they were. She had just arrived at the worst possible moment and stood between the man behind her and the guards coming for him. He wasn't much taller than her, just by an inch or so; he looked a bit older, though. His body was thin and his eyes were blue and had a slight spark in them as he looked back at her. Obviously she had taken him by surprise by just appearing in front of him. ]]> The Crossroads insaney http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/102745-this-is-odd-stryder-aedernis.html <![CDATA[In Over His Head [Stryder Aedernis]]]> http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/102644-in-over-his-head-stryder-aedernis-new-post.html Thu, 19 Nov 2009 01:09:53 GMT It was Wednesday morning, and Damien's stomach was telling him it was time to eat again.

He had learned here on Earth, where food was not unlimited and you needed to eat, that you could ignore this rumbling and go on just a little food for a lot longer than most people thought. He had been, because he couldn't help otherwise, running a test on this very fact the past two weeks. His last meal had been a packet of pretzels a vending machine had accidentally given him as extra and he had rationed out for the past month of November, but things went a little wrong after he'd been chased by some guard dogs for loitering and had scarfed down half the month's worth afterward. Damien realized he should probably get a job soon if he didn't want to collapse somewhere and go unnoticed for days like in his potato chip famine last June. That story hadn't even made him out to sound cool or tough when he tried retelling it later. It was lose-lose.

It was not like Damien had not been trying to find a job in this city, but things were hard when all you could put on your résumé was a list of Burger Kings you'd temp-jobbed at, or a few seasonal stints at retail stores. Don't even think of walking into an office building. The employees at the mall were too trendy and stuck-up, and wanted the "right kind of people" to represent their stores to the shoppers--malls had never agreed much with Damien, who preferred to hang around the food court, if anywhere. Everything cost more than he made in a month. He had resigned himself to never being quite fashionable.

The angel sat up in the tree he'd slept in, wiped pigeon guano off his shirt (this was becoming a daily routine to him, as other people might make a routine of washing their face in the morning), and stretched. Children stared and pointed, and one asked their mother in a not-so-discreet voice if one of the monkeys had escaped from the zoo. His mother said no, honey, because monkeys were cleaner and didn't have hair in their eyes. Damien hardly blinked at this.

"They haven't got thumbs, neither!" he shouted as he climbed down, and the children broke into laughter.

He looked down and saw he'd leapt into horse droppings. The carriage that made its rounds through the park every morning had two chestnut horses--he'd forgotten. He always forgot. The bottoms of his shoes squished unpleasantly as he quit looking them over and set one and then the other back into the crunchy, frost-covered grass. "I... I meant to do that."

"Did not!" the kids chorused back.

"I did so!" he shouted, a little louder than he realized, "D... don't you kids have school or something to go to? Geez!"

With another round of giggles, the pack of children scurried away back to their parents and playthings. Someone mentioned something about it being Christmas break, and made a particularly rude remark about Damien's intelligence and obvious lack of a calendar. The angel could think of nothing witty to say back, so he simply shrugged his bony shoulders, hefted his backpack a bit more comfortably, and started off down the sunlit sidewalk. Something good had to happen today, he told himself. He could feel it. He must've had at least one good thing coming to him after all this week. Preferably something good that was hot and juicy, sandwiched between sesame seed buns, and had once went "moo".

He ambled along into the bustling city streets, taking in the cold winter morning air and the blaring of horns in rush hour traffic. Damien had always liked cities--they were where the exciting things happened, where stories started and movies always took place. What had been the last movie anyone ever saw that started out in a "Halifax, Virginia" or a "Sweetwater, Tennessee"? Every cool action movie opened with a "New York, New York" caption trailing across the screen in some bold, newspaper-like print, with the skyscrapers lining the horizon and the streets full of cars. Right in the thick of it. Damien felt like a part of things, being right in the thick of it in a city like this. He drummed on his legs as he walked, Walkman cutting in whenever it wasn't too shaken up to skip, joining in on his cut-rate one-man-band with the rhythms and lyrics of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, one of the angel's personal favorites. He'd once watched a concert from a tree outside the festival grounds and had been very impressed. And "Snow (Hey Oh)" just seemed fitting with the weather that day.

He came up to the Metro Station, and began his daily practice of rummaging through the discarded newspapers littered on the floor for a Classifieds section that didn't have coffee or shoe stains on it. After a few minutes, he finally came across one and sat down on a bench, flipping through. There was a lot of the typical ads for secretaries and licensed dog walkers and sales associates for Such and Such Incorporated, none of which he was qualified for, as he knew. But at the bottom, the very bottom right-hand ad, there was one he actually had a shot at. Some foreign priest was to be visiting the city, and a guide to show said priest around was what was called for--what job, Damien thought, could he be better at, than a tour-guide for a fellow man of the faith? He knew this city like the bottom of his (rather smelly, now, he noted with a cringe) sneakers. He could maybe even chit-chat a bit with this guy, impress him with his knowledge of the religion, and maybe get himself a full-time job of sorts with the church. They had money, right? They had to have money. They all wore those fancy, gold-lined robes and were always building new churches everywhere with big stained-glass windows. Money had to come from somewhere.

It sounded perfect. All he had to do to claim the position was report to St. Mark's Cathedral on Fifth Street and talk to Father Dave. Damien just hoped no one else beat him there.

Unfortunately, in his rush of excitement and hope, he did not see the continuation of the ad on the next page--the continuation that stated that this guide, which he was hoping to be, was expected to serve the priest as a bodyguard as well. And it was rather vague as to what they would be guarding against. And so, oblivious, Damien was rushing towards trouble. ]]> The Crossroads Altamira http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/102644-in-over-his-head-stryder-aedernis.html Habile Voleur (Stryder Aedernis) http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/102632-habile-voleur-stryder-aedernis-new-post.html Wed, 18 Nov 2009 18:39:15 GMT This was an awkward situation. What were the chances? Apparently good enough. Two thieves went for the exact same item, at the exact same time. But what Korat found to be even more strange, is that she didn't hear this man moving around at all.
Now they stood in the darkness, with Korat shyly looking down, but listening intently. After a few short moments, she looked at him.

Unlike her, who was crouching down with one hand on her katzbalger's hilt, he was standing up, completely relaxed. It was no trouble for Korat to see him, even in the darkness, so she directed her gaze, as a matter of habit, to his eyes. He stared right back at her with his big blues. Her own shined lightly in what little light was present in the building. She began to relax as he was staring back at her, and stood up.


The original plan? Just to steal a golden necklace with a sapphire jewel. It's all she really 'needed' right then. She woke up that morning thinking how she'd been sort of neglecting her appearance. A little jewelry couldn't hurt her looks, could it? No, of course not! She'd already stolen a bracelet earlier, since she happened by it along her way, so a necklace would be a good addition.
She found it not so long ago in a large mansion-type house. That day the owner had opened the place to anyone who wanted to look at his collections of fancy items, and what-not. Korat had seen the lovely little necklace when visiting, and made note to come back later.

Someone else had the same idea, it seemed. When she got inside, she walked back to where the necklace was kept. The silly owner had taken off the glass case, and left it out in the open. She was laughing inside until she reached for the necklace... Her fingers bumped right into those of another person! She had stood there, motionless for a second, before jumping back, and crouching down.


And now... Now the two thieves just stood there. Korat certainly wasn't going to be the first one to talk. Her shining eyes just stared back at the man through the darkness. ]]> The Crossroads BrokenWing http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/102632-habile-voleur-stryder-aedernis.html <![CDATA[The Romance of a Winter Leaf [Sakume]]]> http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/102600-the-romance-of-a-winter-leaf-sakume-new-post.html Tue, 17 Nov 2009 23:32:44 GMT *OoC:* The characters are Selene Vlaxen and Kichaa Mesoa. All roleplaying in this thread has been completed beforehand in an instant messenger roleplay. *BiC:* Kichaa shambled into the muddy streets of town nursing a gore wound in his side and soaked to the bone from the downpour. When he... OoC: The characters are Selene Vlaxen and Kichaa Mesoa. All roleplaying in this thread has been completed beforehand in an instant messenger roleplay.

BiC: Kichaa shambled into the muddy streets of town nursing a gore wound in his side and soaked to the bone from the downpour. When he managed to get both eyes open, his left was bloodshot and blood-filled, the pupil barely visible. He felt awful. He imagined that this was what it felt like to be a burn victim, except burn victims weren't expected to drag themselves to a hospital. From the looks of things in the dinky town, a hospital was probably an over-optimistic expectation.

She wasn't in any particular hurry; it wasn't as if she needed to go to a hospital or anything. Selene enjoyed the moments when she could stay away from home, among people, even if she didn't know them, being socially-prone herself. How unfortunate for her the rain had chosen this day to fall this hard. Despite the gloomy outlook, she managed to make it dry under a nearby awning of a shop, shaking her umbrella a few times, a stark white with small pink polka dots against the dark grey atmosphere. Time to head home.

His gate slowed considerably as soon as he realized the only hope to be had in this town was the off-chance that there might be a decent midwife or an apothecary. The saloon, a stop he would have made first on a healthy day, he walked straight past. With the condition he was in, most bar patrons would just rob him and roll him back into the mud. His mouth twitched down and he spotted some kind of general store with big windows an bright lights. Might as well try.

She could hardly see in this dark, dreary weather, much less did she have a desire to dirty her white clothes with who knew how much mud. She frowned just slightly. Could she find her way if she flew? She'd never really flown in rain before now. She considered it for a moment, then decided against it. Better not to let your naivety work against you. Might as well just head inside the store for now, see what might catch her eye until the rain lets up a bit.

The awning seemed like as nice a shelter as any. As soon as he got most of the way onto it, he felt instantly better and straightened. Then he felt unbelievably worse and pretty much pitched forward onto the concrete slab as his breath wheezed out---right onto a pair of unusually clean shoes.

The umbrella fell to the side and two emotions filled her: first the horror of having a man (who she first assumed drunk) collapse so suddenly so close to her, second the pity for him (drunk or not) and his plight. Then she noticed a thin river of red amidst the rainwater draining into the nearest sewage gutter and lost all but the motherly impulse to care for the stranger. She bent down first and put a hand on his shoulder, though it hardly covered much of it.

"You're hurt..."

"Mo shik," was the muffled, narm-worthy comment he managed to groan out with his face smushed into the pavement. He managed to get an arm underneath him and started pushing. It was amazing hard to gather his knees underneath him and push himself up with an arm at the same time, so he decided lying down would be the best choice. He did so immediately.

She didn't catch quite what he'd said, but the tone made her bite her lip. She made her way to the source of the blood, a large wound still consistently leaking blood. Although it was not a vast amount gushing as Selene knew some wounds could be (by experience of seeing Zorlo with several over the past few years), she also knew thanks to his fights even a small wound could kill someone if not treated. She knelt in the murky water, mud stirring at her movements, and ripped a large portion of her dress. It did slightly bother her to ruin such a nice material, but she consoled herself with the fact it was probably saving a life, or at least helping it heal faster. She pressed the mostly-dry cloth against the wound hard.

That hurt. That hurt a lot. Kichaa half-jolted away from her hands and managed to choke out a curse most humans could not even pronounce, much less fully comprehend. It meant a lot of bad things that had to do with mothers, monsters, feral cats, and popsicles. He used it as a faster way of saying, "That hurts very much."

"There... that's better... stop the bleeding..." The trail in the rainwater became much less pronounced as she tended to the wound, ripping more cloth until her dress, previously down to her shins, had become quite the miniskirt. She tied a ring around to hold the cloth in place.

"Can you get up?... I can help you to my cabin... you can rest there..." Oh, wouldn't Zorlo love that... of course, if he was even home tonight... or this week.

Trying to get up a second time yielded better results. He managed to roll up like he was going into the fetal position, the kind of hunch over onto his knees and shins. Just that took the wind out of him, but when he looked up he saw the face of an angel. No, literally, he saw the face of an angel. He recognized her and just happened to know she was an angel. He also remembered that he just said a word most people would never say in front of a coworker, much less a divine being of purity and ... niceness.

He tried to say, "Selene" but it came out sounding a bit choked.

The feeling of recognition was not mutual. She blinked at his expression, cocked her head when he uttered a gutteral sound probably meant to be English. It was mostly due to the fact he simply looked so torn up and dirty. "Come on..." She grunted out loud with effort as she helped him to his feet. This was difficult. He was not only so much bigger than her to begin with, he was weak and had to lean substantially on her for support.

She was amazing strong for someone who felt so soft and small. He managed to not wince too much when her help ended up pulling the gore open a little wider, but eventually compromised by putting his arm across her shoulders and planting his feet.

He gulped air and managed, "How far?" in a vaguely understandable way.

Selene peered through the darkness, this time able to make out what he was saying, knowing she would definitely be able to bandage him up better with light and warmth, and a sewing kit, to boot. It took a few flashes of lightning, but she could barely see the cabin in the distance. "I can see it from here..."

"Ugh," was the reply he gave. It was starting to hurt to breathe, but at least it didn't feel like a collapsed lung. That gore had ripped open a good portion of his abdomen and could have done a hell of a lot more damage than it did. It was, luckily, only a flesh wound. It hurt like all hell and throbbed like a death metal song, but he could survive it for a few more minutes. It did hurt a lot, though. Why did she live so far away?

"... It won't take long..." She was determined, carefully stepping with him down into the rain's onslaught once more, but braving it as best she could as she kept a close eye on his state. Even in the hard pouring of the storm, she kept optimistic, but not smotheringly so.

The shock of cold, hard rain washing over him again helped and hurt. It helped because it was refreshingly cool and washed the stinging concoction of tears and blood out of his eye. It hurt because it was cold and wet and it was falling like sheets. The only sheets he was keen on feeling fall on him were soft, clean ones. Preferably flannel. Oh, flannel sheets ... then he almost tripped, it hurt really badly, he caught his balance on instinct, which hurt worse, and he hissed but did not say the word that came to his mind. Walking was apparently something he had taken for granted.

She steadied him, keeping him on a good, sturdy path the best she could. Boy, didn't that sound Biblical? She might have go on to compare herself to his guardian angel, but she paid more attention to him when he tripped. Well. She tried to keep him on a good, sturdy path. The cabin grew closer now, the ground shifting from cobblestone and pavement to grass and mud, which was both easier and harder to walk in with his condition. That, and her cabin was very slightly uphill.

Kichaa was used to mud when he was entirely healthy and moving towards a definite goal. In the rain, in the dark, barely conscious, mud felt like just one more thing he could put in his list of things to take up with whatever higher power decided this was a good idea. He would do that right before he put his boot up the ass of said higher power and ground said higher power's face into about three feet of mud. That was a nice thought. He tried not to trip again when it distracted him from walking, and ended up just teetering.

It seemed to take hours, but in reality only minutes before they arrived and she pushed open the door with her boot. The cabin was dim, but she quickly flicked a light. Money helped with electrical things in the house and provided Selene with running water as well, many comforts unknown to people in cabins solely placed on low hills. She half-dragged him to the bathroom, the second door on the left in the entryway, across from the living room entry, and flicked that light on, setting him down on the toilet seat and sliding herself down to have a seat on the sink to rest for a few moments. So much for the white tile and ceramic.

He was quickly leaning towards passing out by then. It seemed like a good idea at the time. He felt drowsy, he felt unhappy, he felt very tired, and everything hurt. Going to sleep, even because he was passing out, sounded like a great plan. He barely noticed when he was dragged into the bathroom, but he did notice getting set on the toilet. The lid was down. He winced and tried to think. Why had he thought she lived with a man? Men supposedly always left the seat up...

She leaned over the bathtub and turned the water on, definitely warm, but not scalding hot. She wet a washcloth and pulled his shirt off, trying to keep her eyes on her work as she cleaned the gash. It was larger than she remembered, and more agitated, probably from all the work going up to the cabin. She pressed the washcloth to the wound, intent on simply keeping it from bleeding for the moment, cleaning the area around it well before she moved to the first door on the left to get her sewing kit.

He was pretty much gone. The rag hurt, but it was more of a far-off hurt, like someone was hurting him, but he was actually the guy next to him so he wasn't really as hurt as he would have been if he was the one getting hurt. He blinked his eyes open at her and looked down to see what she was doing when she left. Wow. It looked gross.

She returned with a green kit, opening it and removing a needle and some thread, unraveling it and carefully tying it to the needle, taking a cotton ball and soaking it in alcohol, cleaning around the wound. "This is going to hurt," she warned as she touched the needle to the edge of his split skin.

"Y'know..." he answered, lifting his arm. Well, he gestured with his arm anyway. Actually, it was more like he managed to twitch his arm in a more-or-less upward direction while moving his fingers into what might have been an attempt to point. It was kind of pitiful, "... I hear ... they ... drugs ..."

"If I had anything to numb your pain that quickly, I'd give it to you..." she said as she made the first puncture. It must have hurt, but she tried not to focus on his pained sounds or gestures and focus on getting it done as soon as possible. One thing was positive, she was extremely good at treating wounds with little supply.

When she was finished, the sutures itched unbelievably and the wound hurt even more being held in place by unnatural healing aids than it had open to the elements. It was clean, though, and it was getting drier and warmer by the moment. As it got drier and warmer, he got sleepier and less aware. The loss of blood probably did it most of it, but the hours of constant pain and the stupid effort of getting back to civilization could not have been a helped. He was dog tired, and it was work to keep his eyes open. "Sleep...?"

Selene was not quite so thrilled about his clothes getting gunk all over the bedsheets, but her heart won out when she saw how tired he really was. Surely he'd been through enough to warrant an extra wash in the washing machine or more sheets. She linked an arm around him and helped him up again, this time moving him to the only bed in the house-her bed. She called it her bed because there wasn't anyone else in it enough to warrant it belonging to more than one person. She sat him on the edge, the mattress supporting his weight nimbly. She slipped his boots off, but before she could say anything, he was asleep.

Blissfully ignorant sleep drifted slowly away to be replaced by a throbbing pain and a feeling of terrible stiffness. The stiffness was familiar. It always happened after a hard fight. Adrenaline made fighting seem the most natural thing in the world, while it was happening. Only when his life calmed down and his body started recovering did he get to feel the effects of doing what most men wouldn't ever try. He opened his eyes and sat up. At least, he tried. He got about halfway to sitting up before he collapsed and started breathing hard, remembering the sutures in his side and the gash they held closed.

She skillfully moved the scrambled eggs from the pan to the plate. As much as she didn't quite like thinking about it, she rather enjoyed cooking for someone other than herself. If he had been a complete, healthy stranger she might have thought twice about letting him in her house and taking such care of him, but being wounded as he was, she found herself with little cause for worry. She held the tray containing the pancakes, eggs and bacon, with a few slices of fruit in a bowl beside, tightly as she pushed open the door to his room. She was surprised to see him awake.

"Feeling better?" she asked, coming to the bedside where she had watched him for a good amount of the night

"More awake. Thank you," he said, meaning it. He had been conscious enough the night before to know that she had saved his life, which was probably more than anyone in that town would have done. He may not have felt any better, and in fact was probably feeling worse without the numbing cold of the rain, but he knew he was better. That was all that mattered. He could feel good some time when he did not have a gore on his side and stitches holding his flesh together. In the meantime, he would be grateful that he didn't have to face any kind of heavenly judge or eternal emptiness.

"I brought you breakfast," she said in a cheerful tone as she set the tray down beside him. "Do you need help sitting up? You need to eat. It'll help you heal.

Now that she saw him in the light, she noticed he appeared slightly familiar. Perhaps she had seen him around town. "Do I know you?" she asked, her eyes looking at his face for hope of something that would trigger her memory.

He smiled and tried sitting up more slowly this time, pushing against the wall more than actually lifting with his abdomen, and managed despite the pain. When he was in a roughly upright sort of position he smiled, breathing hard, and said, "Zorlo brought me to dinner once. We've worked together in the past."

He looked at the food and added, "I remember your cooking."

"Do you?" Selene was unused to compliments, but found it gave her a little thrill, the type of high someone might get from finding some money on the ground or an extra piece of candy in the pre-assorted bag. It made her smile in return. "I thought I remembered your face." She set the tray on his lap for him. "You've had a very rough night..."

The smile he offered, though it might have seemed a bit whimsical or sad, was at least honest. He had a rough night and he was going to have a rough couple of days, but he was alive and that was all that counted. Better to be alive and in pain than dead away from home, he thought. The meal looked wonderful and he reached for some fruit almost as soon as she set it down. "I'm Kichaa Mesoa," he said, while he chewed.

"Selene Vlaxen," she replied as she watched him eat. "You're welcome to stay here until you get your strength back. I'm sure Zorlo won't mind. The shower is out this door, turn left and the first door on your right. Before the front door... in case you find enough strength before tonight. You should probably get more sleep after you're finished eating, though."

He found himself laughing purely on accident, and it hurt, but he couldn't stop chuckling under his breath for almost half a minute. When he finally did, he wiped pained tears from his eyes and asked, "I'm sorry. Strength for the front door or for the shower?"

She didn't get the humor, instead just stared at him as if he were crazy. She managed a quizzical smile. "I must have misunderstood... I... didn't catch the joke..." Her cheeks flushed a heated pink. "Is there something I can get you to drink?"

Being waited on did not agree with him. He would have liked a water, being so thirsty from the night before and from not having actually drunk water in more than half a day, but asking for it seemed ungrateful. She was already bringing him breakfast in bed—her bed—and had done more besides that.

"No, thank you," he answered. "I'm good."

"Still, I'll bring you something after you're finished. In case you decide you need it. Losing that much blood should mean you need more fluids... what exactly happened to you? If I can ask?" The last part seemed redundant now that she said it, if she had wanted to know if she was allowed to ask, she shouldn't have questioned him before adding that last part. Oh well. She let it go.

"Gored by a bull," he fibbed. It had been a kind of bull, but most people had no business to be fighting a minotaur. They were unilaterally angry, vicious, dangerous creatures with a tendency to turn perfectly capable, perfectly alive human beings into completely dead corpses. He had no idea why, but for some reason he didn't want this particular woman knowing what he did to keep food in his stomach.

"Wow..." She believed him instantly. "I'm so sorry..." For a moment, she rested a hand on his chest, near the wound, very lightly, in a mixture of what she decided was pity and sadness. "That must be so painful... and to be bleeding from it in that weather... it's no wonder you were so weak."

It stung a bit to have lied and been trusted so easily, but something in him felt better about her not knowing regardless. Even if it was just one person in hundreds, it was nice to think someone didn't know he was essentially a glorified butcher. There was a time where he would have loved to be what he had become. Looking at the innocent face of a woman Zorlo, as pure and naive a man as any he had ever met, had gotten ... it was kind of depressing.

"I'm fine," he said, faking a smile.

She smiled at him, again believing him, enough to where she wasn't too worried about him. "Well. Enough for now, anyway... I'll believe you're fine when you can walk around by yourself and that wound's healed up..." She took the empty dishes from him and lifted the tray. "You get some rest, alright?"

"Sure," he said. He didn't feel tired at all, and looking out the window at the sunny day he was wasting made him feel even less tired. He had a sneaking suspicious she wouldn't have let him get up and go outside even if he could.

"Good..." She disappeared, a moment later returning to get him a large glass of water set by his bedside. "What size do you wear? Clothing-wise?"

His brow wrinkled in confusion as he picked up the glass, brushing her hand in the process. His size? That was a good question. Now that he thought about it, he had never bought sized clothes. "I have no idea. Large?"

"Alright." She let her hand slip away from his when she stood up and headed for the door. "I'll see you in a few hours. I'm going to do a little shopping that yesterday's rain prevented."

"Maybe I'll wait around," he joked.

He had to admit, he didn't want her to leave. She was the first human contact he'd had in over a week, and she was nicer to him than anyone short of his parents. He frowned as soon as she wasn't looking and looked out the window again.

"Bye!" she called, again cheerfully as she closed the front door behind her. Now if only she could find something for him to wear he wouldn't be repulsed by, she'd just have to guess. ]]> The Crossroads Coyote http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/102600-the-romance-of-a-winter-leaf-sakume.html dawn ocean battle(2-3 people) http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/102577-dawn-ocean-battle-2-3-people-new-post.html Tue, 17 Nov 2009 14:59:05 GMT OoC: This is my first battle in crossroad, and I don't exactly get the concept. Isn't it the same as BA? Here is my character: http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/...r-aproval.html

BiC: Icaris stared at the sun sinking in the horizon. He had just arrived at the port town of Eria an hour ago and already had to leave with his ship to New Casera. Luckily, The captain was a former pirate, so there was a chance that the ride wouldn't be all to boring.

Just when Icaris, thought about how he could find a wind seal piece in New Casera, the ship moved. The fresh ocean breeze blew his night-black hair out of his face and just then he noticed that he was openly in the middle of a boat, vulnerable to anything that could hit him. Icaris swiftly slipped into a room which seemed dark and narrow just the way he liked it.

"HEY KID!!!" a voice called out, somewhere in corner, too dark to see. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!!!" Icaris noticed that the person to whom the voice belonged was angry, and he started to say: "I'm sorry. I didn't know that this room was off limits-" Suddenly a hand pulled his hair and threw him into a trapdoor in the floor.

"Hey! LET ME OUT" He yelled, his voice echoing through The hollow room, but no one answered. Icaris cowered into a corner and his skin turned paler than it naturally already was, if this was possible. Hollow means Vulnerable and open. he said. Vulnerable means near death. He suddenly heard a muffled cough in the other end of the room. Icaris instinctively took out his sword and with the other hand, he prepared to use magic ]]> The Crossroads Vaati135 http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/102577-dawn-ocean-battle-2-3-people.html Crossroads Role Playing http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/102039-crossroads-role-playing-new-post.html Fri, 06 Nov 2009 18:47:44 GMT If characters are the foundation of role playing, then using them is the essence. I’m just going to be covering a few tips that help RPing run more smoothly in the Crossroads and some creative writing tips. Some of these are shared things with the Battle Arena RPing and helps with all RPing in general. I’m not the Dome here. For more in depth and personal teaching on this, go to the Dome.

None of this is mandatory. Just advice.

Communication
Comprehension and Distractions – Firstly, before I mentioned no 1337 or “leet speak”. Because this is creative writing, not a chat room. Not everyone knows leet anyway. It is very important for others to be able to understand what you have written in your post. So basic grammar is important. As long as everyone knows what you’re saying, you don’t have to be a master of grammar or punctuation. Though it might be distracting if you do not do basic capitalization either. I also discourage the use of colored text, because it is distracting and reminds the reader that they are reading. Try to avoid things that do that.

Clarification and Powerplay – Secondly, most of the mistakes I see in RP’s come from lack of communication between all writers present. It seems most people don’t realize that if they don’t understand something or are confused by something another wrote in a post, that they can send them a PM or VM to ask them about it. Always ask for clarification if you are not sure.

This is also often the excuse for powerplaying. It is against the rules to write any dialogue or actions or thoughts for another person’s character without permission. Most people think the best way to keep their post flowing is to write for another’s character.

I’m really against any illegal powerplaying. While most people might not like it, they may just go with the flow to avoid conflict between writers. So you may be stepping on other people’s toes without realizing you are. Just because they don’t complain, doesn’t mean they like it. Plus, no one knows the character better than the owner. I, personally, hate it when people make my character act out of character. It offends me on a strange level. Not only might you get the character wrong, but they might have had a different idea for what they wanted to happen next with the character.

Powerplaying is only allowed if the other writer gives permission for you to do so. This is where the communication factor comes in to help the RP flow faster and without stepping on anyone’s toes. If there was absolutely no powerplay allowed, characters would tend to become left on their own little islands in the posts, separate and less willing to interact with each other.

There’s two ways to do this. First, shorter posts that allow the other writer to respond with their character on their own. This is where I approve of short posts. However, it is annoying to have only the dialogue. That would make it maybe one or three sentences long. Try to include any other thoughts, actions, and expressions the character might have while asking a question. This gives the post more meat, so to speak.

Not everyone likes to do this though, as it slows the RP down. So there is the second option. Do a mini RP for the conversation in PMs or if you both have an instant messenger, you can do it there. Then, not only do you have the permission of the other writer, but the character’s actions and words will be true to the character. And then once you have all you need, write your post.

The last thing to note about powerplaying, is that if the other writer does not like what you have done with their character in your post and they tell you so—you have to change the post or delete it. No questions asked. It’s their character not yours. You have to respect that. Even if it means making your Mary Sue look less awesome and whatnot. If not, you may have a Councilor or Mod on your ass very fast, and the trouble will get deeper from there.

Planning and Collaborating – Not only do we forget that we can ask for clarification, but we can also collaborate with each other on what will happen next in the RP. If we do this, we can all share our ideas and it all becomes more cohesive and the posts tend to flow together much more easily. I think this is the key to writing a good RP. Though, it’s important to not do too much of these things. It can be fun to surprise others with our posts, and some things are better and more exciting left unplanned in the beginning. Then as we go along, more ideas and inspirations can come, and then feel free to let your co-RPers know about them and discuss them.

Avoid Playing the Mary Sue
Mary Sues are not fun to write with. They exist mostly for the creator’s ego. The Mary Sue tendencies when writing is to be all knowing, which is impossible and unrealistic. Just because you know something, doesn’t mean your character gets to. They always like to jump in to provide the solution to a conflict in the RP first. Not only is it boring to have it easily taken care of and Mary Sue saves the day, it often lacks creativity and realism. It’s more interesting when characters struggle. More creativity can be involved in more struggle and strife. A more complicated and difficult way to save the day is more interesting than a quick, unimaginative, unrealistic, and easy solution from Mary Sue.

So let your characters struggle more. Also don’t be afraid to let terrible and irreversible things happen to them, but also don’t always make terrible and irreversible things happen so that they can: mop, weep, angst, and woes me all the time for pity from other characters. It’s always more interesting when tragedies of several forms happen, more character development can happen in this, but it just gets nauseating to watch a character unrealistically angst all the time for the creator’s pleasure and with no purpose.

Bad things happen so that we can overcome and grow from them. Not so that we can cry and angst ourselves into oblivion.

Also keep in mind your character cannot always be the biggest, skilledest (yes it is a word. I just made it one now :P), smartest, and most interesting character in the RP. There are a bunch of other characters made by other people all with different levels, some higher and some lower than your character. Just like in real life, there’s a big variety of people, who are interesting in their own ways too. If you want your character to be the most awesome on the playground, the star of the RP, and constant center of attention, go write a fiction on your own somewhere else. This is not the place for it.

Remember that you do not need to post constantly when you feel it has been too long since your character made an appearance or has done something. That’s just an egotistical and attention needy impulse. This leads to unrealistic behavior and it can make it hard for the other RPers to keep up with you. Don’t be afraid to wait it out for the proper time for you to post again and to wait for the others to write a few posts to hammer out the story bit more.

Descriptive and Expressive Language
Examples – Here’s a basic idea of what is lacking in description and then the revamped version:

Before:

The human had not attacked, nor did he seem to have any bad intentions, so she snatched the leaves from his hand.

Still keeping an eye on the man, the creature sniffed at the offering, just to make sure there wasn’t something wrong with them. Every haschen knew that humans were full of tricks, and caution was a haschen’s friend. It did not surprise Padme that she couldn’t find anything wrong with the leaves, since this human really did seem like the good kind, so she nibbled on the corner of one leave, tasting it with her tongue.

After:
Quote:
Originally Posted by Fairess in False Knight
The HUMAN had not attacked, nor did he seem to have any harmful intentions, so with a cautious paw, she snatched the leaves from his hand.

Still keeping a suspicious eye on the man, the yellow furred creature sniffed at the inoffensive offering, just to make sure there wasn’t something wrong with them. Every good haschen knew that HUMANs were full of tricks, and caution was a haschen’s best friend. It did not surprise Padme that she couldn’t find anything wrong with the leaves, since this HUMAN really did seem like the good kind, so she nibbled on the corner of one leave, tasting it delicately with her tiny pink tongue.
Note the way Fairess capitalized all the letters of “human”. Every time her character thinks the word, she capitalizes it. This is a creative trait she has given Padme when she writes her. Sometimes grammar rules can be broken to express a character more fully and creatively to the reader.

Characters – For more advanced writing, the keys are often in being efficiently descriptive and expressive in your descriptions. Using words that inspire just the right sounds, images, and feelings. Things like “Jack was mad” tell but they do not show Jack being angry. What does Jack do when he is angry? Shake? Turn red? What does Jack’s face do when the angry emotion is being expressed?

When writing in the perspective of the angry Jack, try to give details about how it feels to be angry Jack. Think about how you feel when you’re angry and start from there. Maybe you’ll change some things around, because this won’t be you but your character. But you’re both still people (or based off people) so you’ll both still have that emotion in common.

Examples:

Before:
Quote:
Originally Posted by Shrub in False Knight
Adrien withdrew his hand when the girl had still refused to take it. His eyes studied her face. It seemed that if possible he had only managed to frighten her more. He wasn’t quite sure how he had managed that. Perhaps the joke was a bit inappropriate for the moment. His expression was tranquilly contemplative as he studied her. They continued to stand in the rain together. He was getting quite wet and cold, but it didn’t seem to bother Adrien in the least. He didn’t even so much as shiver once.
After:

Adrien withdrew his hand when the girl had still refused to take it. His eyes studied her face. Her lips trembling with the chattering of her teeth that broke and stuttered her words as she attempted force them out of her mouth. Her bright, glowing blue eyes were wide and yet narrowed by her now dirty blonde brows that were knitted at him in disbelief. The way her brows pulled at her skin suggested fear as well. Or perhaps that was just his instincts as a predator. It seemed that if possible he had only managed to frighten her more. He wasn’t quite sure how he had managed that. Perhaps the joke was a bit inappropriate for the moment.

His hazel eyes, a perfect balance of brown, green, and blue at the moment because he was calm, gazed at her with relaxed brows and lips that did not frown with any disappointment. His eyes never leaving her face which he searched her expression and her strange glowing eyes with patience only an old man could know. The rain continued its constant drizzle down upon his head, which was soaked and dripping by now. Water ran down his face and he blinked it out of his eyes as he stared at the girl. It was chilling, but his body no longer reacted to the cold as it was supposed to. The cold could not kill him. It was an odd sensation, to feel the cold but having no need to shiver or seek warmth. It was something he was accustomed to by now.

Environment – Not only with characters do we need to be descriptive and expressive. The environment around them is also an important factor. It is important to include the perspective of character in the environment. It keeps you in character and keeps the reader with the character too. The environment can be colored by the character’s view. It can inspire certain emotions and thoughts unique to them. This is where the creativity is important.

Examples:
Quote:
Originally Posted by Shrub in Under the Red Sea
The best thing about peaceful and content cities like Kanet was that their security was horridly lax. I was even a little surprised by this. That the sewers were so over looked. There were so many ways to get beyond the walls to the inner sector, where the capital and heart of the city stood in arrogant white marbles, imbued with crystals of ocean and sky blue matched with the lilac purple of amethyst. Great towers caped and lined with bright shinning silver and gold, quarts framed windows, and statues of Elohim goddesses carved out of rose quart stood in vain, feigning the majestic. Perhaps it had once been the temple of the people who had first banished the drow to Delusuu, but now it was filled with the shadows of the people they once were.
How much less would you know about how Rontu feels about the people of Kanet if all I did was write up a description of a castle made of white marble, sliver, gold, and various types of crystals?
Quote:
Originally Posted by Shrub in Under the Red Sea
Kanet was built upon a great plateau that rose up from the sea of green grass. It had immense white marble walls reaching out to the blue sky above and surrounding the perimeter of the plateau. The city was stationed in the plains of Ranelu, not far from the Spirit Mountains to the north, and over was the Desert of Suu, the lands of condemned, Delusuu, my homeland.

This land was like a different world to me. Here there was a sea of green, of life. Where as Delusuu was a sea of red sand, blood, vengeance, loathing, deceit, and murderous intent. This was why “Scarlet” was the name of the highest ranked soldiers of the empire, only second to the emperor himself. Red was a color seen often by us. Red was the way of our lives. Red marked the hourglass shape of the Black Widow’s belly, the sigil of the Drow Empire.

Green was a rare and foreign color. My mother’s eyes had been a vibrant shade of jade-green. So had been her small desert garden. A little patch of peace in our harsh environment as her presence had been in the ugliness of my life. So when I came to this green sea of Ranelu, I wondered if it had a patch of withered dry chaos hidden deep within its breast.
I could have stopped at “Kanet was built upon a great plateau that rose up from the sea of green grass. It had immense white marble walls reaching out to the blue sky above and surrounding the perimeter of the plateau. The city was stationed in the plains of Ranelu, not far from the Spirit Mountains to the north, and over was the Desert of Suu, the lands of condemned, Delusuu, my homeland.” And that would have been sufficient a description of the city from afar.

However, seeing the city inspired other thoughts and feelings in the character, which then go back to the description of the fertile lands and gives you more about his ponderings in relation to them.

Similes, Metaphors, and Personification
The best tools for being more descriptive and expressive are these three things:

Simile – A figure of speech that draws a comparison between two different things, especially a phrase containing the word "like" or "as," e.g. "as white as a sheet".

Before:

She was cold.

After:

She was as cold as ice.

Metaphor – All language that involves figures of speech or symbolism and does not literally represent real things; one thing used or considered to represent another.

Before:

She had bright blue eyes.

After:

Her eyes were bright blue stars.

Personification – The attribution of human qualities to objects or abstract notions.

Before:

His throat burned with need for her blood.

After:

His throat burned for her blood, as if it were dried and cracked, fire scratching down his esophagus.

Repetition
Repetition can be fine, as long as it is intentional and creative. However, you should avoid using the same adjectives, similes, metaphors, etc. several times in the same post. It just starts to get dull and drab to read, as well as distracting. Be sure to take the time to read over your post to make sure you haven’t done this. If you have, mix it up a bit and even consult a thesaurus if you need.

Be in Character
The more into your character you really are, the more you can avoid making dialogue idle Mary Sue chat. The more you can have them react appropriately, and the more descriptive and expressive your writing becomes. Just spend some time day dreaming, thinking in their thoughts, feeling their feelings, and see their world. I do this constantly because I am obsessed with my characters. This is the whole point in role playing. You are playing a role, almost like acting but in writing (which is easier in my opinion, I can’t act worth crap). ]]> The Crossroads Shrub http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/102039-crossroads-role-playing.html Beyond the Horizon (Open RP) http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101981-beyond-the-horizon-open-rp-new-post.html Thu, 05 Nov 2009 19:48:22 GMT OoC: Okies, I felt like making an RP to use my Centaur couple, Erani and Ceto in and this is it. The RP is open to everyone, but ask me first to join! :P BiC: The light breeze flowed gracefully above the terrain as the young Centaur warrior known as Erani traveled about, making her way down a... OoC: Okies, I felt like making an RP to use my Centaur couple, Erani and Ceto in and this is it. The RP is open to everyone, but ask me first to join! :P

BiC: The light breeze flowed gracefully above the terrain as the young Centaur warrior known as Erani traveled about, making her way down a peaceful shoreline. It was mid-afternoon, nearly around the time where Erani started her daily hunt for a fish dinner. However, as usual as it was, the Centaur this time did not feel like eating. Too many thoughts had begun to clutter in her mind, the most of which were related to the love of her life, a Centaur man named Ceto.

Erani brought her right hand to her chest level and looked hopefully at a piece of shiny gold clutched in her fingers. She had found this valuable treasure along a river deep within a canyon and ended up fighting against a human who also desired the golden rock. Although Erani had prevailed in keeping it, it did not change her mood very drastically. For this piece of gold was the only thing Erani had to serve as a part of Ceto himself. He adored the beauty of shiny rocks and had often collected them when he and Erani were young and still a part of their Centaur herd.

Still, what were the chances of actually seeing him again any time soon? This world was wide and anyone could be anywhere. Even so, however, Erani decided not to give up. She would one day reunite with him if it was the last thing she ever accomplished and continued on past some rugged, rocky terrain along the shore.

Erani almost didn't notice something out of the ordinary in the distance a few minutes later. A large figure stood atop a high rock overlooking the vast ocean beside her. As Erani silently approached the figure, she made it out to be a fellow Centaur. It was a rather handsome Centaur man in armor and a small cape over his shoulder. A winter-colored staff was sheathed at his back. Erani moved even closer to this Centaur, but found the newly revealed features to be striking. Gray-black fur... she thought. Dark red hair and tail...just like Ceto. But...this can't be him. He doesn't have a staff or garb like that. ...Does he?

Erani's question was answered within the next few seconds. The Centaur man turned around and began walking in another direction, revealing his front side and facial features. Midnight blue eyes sparkled in the setting sunlight along with the gold medallion attached to his cape. I don't believe it...it is him! Erani exclaimed in her mind. He looks so blue...and he doesn't even know I'm here. She was about to run full speed ahead into his arms for the first time in ages, but before Erani could make her move, Ceto made his first. He unsheathed his staff from his back and twirled it once in his hand.

"Maybe some more training will take my mind off things for awhile," he said to himself and pointed it at some rocks nearby. However, Ceto was unaware that Erani was behind one. As he started with an Ice Blast attack for kicks, the large beams of ice blew two of them to pieces on impact. A thin ice sheet was left behind. However, one other noise, one Ceto did not expect to hear, sounded forth from the other side of his attack. It was a female shriek, a painful one it sounded like.

"What was that?!" Ceto gasped. "Was someone back there?" He immediately raced into the remains of the rocks to investigate. To his dismay, he saw none other than Erani's limp form lying on the rocky terrain, unable to tell whether or not she was alive. A piece of gold lay beside her now bruised and dirty body. Ceto gasped in shock when he recognized the features of the girl he loved and couldn't prevent himself from weeping.

"...Erani?!" he exclaimed, dropping to the ground and lifting her human torso into his arms. "NO! No! What have I done?! Erani, please forgive me..." ]]> The Crossroads Crystal http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101981-beyond-the-horizon-open-rp.html <![CDATA[The Cleverness of Wizards [Altamira]]]> http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101897-the-cleverness-of-wizards-altamira-new-post.html Tue, 03 Nov 2009 22:36:41 GMT The cold, damp air of the undercroft nipped against warm, pink flesh left undefended by the thin fabric of a generic tee. The young man who wore it was bent over an unmistakably old wooden table that still looked and felt as sturdy as could be, as if it had been crafted from cement rather than... The cold, damp air of the undercroft nipped against warm, pink flesh left undefended by the thin fabric of a generic tee. The young man who wore it was bent over an unmistakably old wooden table that still looked and felt as sturdy as could be, as if it had been crafted from cement rather than carved from simple oak. Long, strong fingers held a generic pencil and wrote on plain white paper in a precise cursive that may as well have been computer-generated onto the page, so fast and so precisely did it flow from the pencil. The only imperfections in the lettering were a result of the very rare, very slight imperfections in the surface beneath. Not forty seconds after he began writing, he stopped and straightened.

A single candle flickered on the table, illuminating the simple note, and he reread it with clinical precision that comes from wanting perfection from everything.
To the hireling,

The tower door is unlocked and open. The ghost may be found in the sub-basement, which may be accessed through the undercroft. Access to the undercroft is clearest through the stairwell in the southwest corridor. I will return to assist and render payment.

Sokoll
Reasonably satisfied that even a hireling would be able to understand the directions, he folded the paper in half and set it down on the table. He tapped it cautiously, glanced around cautiously, then frowned at the trapdoor that lead down into the sub-basement. The ghost was a tricky one, and he was never entirely sure what it knew, what it pretended to know, what it pretended not to know, and what it simply did not know. The shade spoke little and seemed to dislike everyone. Even the so-called spiritual mediums brought in to communicate with the ghost had received a colder welcome than they would have from the average snowman. It was absolutely impossible to deal with the thing.

Even so, leaving the tower without telling the ghost seemed unwise. All kinds of trickery could be done to the things Aleksandr had brought to the tower and although he had yet to see the ghost leave the sub-basement he was fairly certain that it could. It lingered near the bones of its corpse most of the time. The wizard stopped tapping the note and sighed. He might as well.

He picked up his coat from the table and slid into it before placing his had firmly atop his head and slipping the note into his jacket pocket. The staff he left where it was. The last time he had taken a visible weapon down there with him, the ghost had reacted terribly. Four columns and an entire section of the ceiling were added to the renovations list after that incident. He walked to the trapdoor, heaved it open, and climbed down the rope ladder into the darkness below. As soon as his feet hit the ground he channeled defensive energy into his gauntlet and held up a closed fist so that he could use the magical light as something of a flashlight.

The sub-basement was a strange part of the ruins. The tower was almost completely intact from the outside, and most of the floors were intact, but everything from the basement up was a mess. Whatever had caused the damage had been thorough. The entire structure was almost unusable. The only portion that was almost entirely whole was the sub-basement. It was expansive, with at least twenty separate rooms of sizes varying from large to huge, and from what Aleksandr knew of architecture he could tell that it was a masterpiece of underground engineering. The only places that were damaged had been damaged by the malevolent spirits that haunted it. The first time Aleksandr had come to the tower, he had assumed that the abundance of spirits was a mere coincidence. Now he knew better.

Most of them had been murdered here.

He found the ghost where it most frequently remained, standing in the shadows of the smallest room in the sub-basement. It glowed vivid orange when the light spilled across it, and the spirit narrowed its eyes at Aleksandr. The wizard stopped just close enough that he could speak with it in a reasonable tone.

"I am leaving the tower," he announced, "In my absence, a hireling of mine may arrive and come to visit you. Please behave yourself as much as you know how."

The spirit said nothing and looked him in the eyes. Aleksandr felt suddenly very cold, very alone, and very helpless. It was a terrible feeling. He jerked his chin up, turned, and strode from the room with as much dignity as he could maintain with the ghost giggling at his back. He knew the man before he died. He never imagined a simple thug with a blade would become such an eerie and dangerous spirit post-mortem. It was unthinkable, the amount of latent spiritual energy that simple swordsman had possessed. It was just as unthinkable how immune that energy was to his every attempt at exploitation or control.

Aleksandr left the tower in a hurry after that, snatching up his staff and rod as he passed through the undercroft, and paused only once he was out in the cool forest air. He turned and pinned the note to the door with a small nail. Hopefully the hireling would be punctual and up to the task of beginning without him. His experience with minor magicians had been poor recently. The all seemed to be lying showboats or incompetent, bumbling little failures. He turned from the door of the ruin and strode into the forest in the direction of the nearby town, disappearing into the forest within moments.

Inside the tower ruin, below the undercroft, in the smallest room of the sub-basement, the ghost of Kichaa Mesoa stirred from haunting its own bones and meandered slowly towards the hall. It was going to be visited again today. Visitors were always interesting. ]]> The Crossroads Coyote http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101897-the-cleverness-of-wizards-altamira.html Come In From The Cold (Anyone) http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101769-come-in-from-the-cold-anyone-new-post.html Sun, 01 Nov 2009 16:13:23 GMT OoC: I have just had a sudden irrepressible urge to write, so forgive me for not considering anything like plot or structure. I want this moving swiftly, so it’s open to three other people with no order whatsoever.

I'm using Nathan; you'll find his character profile in my signature.

IC:

“The winter’s just so depressing,” Nate grumbled, turning about him to see if anyone had noticed his call. The bar was filled to the brim with travellers squeezing amongst each other and belching profanities. No one was listening to him, and he slouched down on a sagging armchair. A fire crackled beside him, and every so often weak little embers spluttered onto the floor.

“I mean, all you can do is sit inside because it’s so dark and cold!” He looked around again, and still no one had noticed his cry. “You huddle up by a fire, and sit, and wait until the spring comes along and it’s warm enough to do anything. It’s a total waste of a season.”

The boy pushed himself off the chair slowly, willing someone to notice his melancholy. He doddered over to the bar, pushing morosely between two rather large women and taking a seat on a leather stool. The barman was busy, and he lowered his head to the table, praying for someone to notice.

“What can I get you, lad?”

Nate shot up sharply, taking the man in with his drooping eyes. He was dingy and dirty, smelled like whisky and had a large stain of indiscernible origin splashed across his vest. In short, he had character. “I’d like some ale, please!” Nate ushered, fighting the onset of giggles.

The barman lowered his head to the beer pump as his chubby hands groped for a mug. Nate shivered slightly at the gush of liquid oozing from the pump, and offered the man a grin as he met his eyes again.

“Here ya’ go. Don’t drink it too fast or you’ll be sick.”

Nathan laughed and flicked a coin in the man’s direction. In higher spirits he walked back to his chair and sat down. He raised the mug to his lips, lavishing the tickle of foam flowing down his throat. He took the mug away again, and sighed. “I feel better now,” he gushed to himself. “But I do wish I had someone to talk to.”

OoC: So, yes. Your character can be in the bar, or they can enter it, or whatever your heart desires. Have fun. ]]> The Crossroads Euphoria http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101769-come-in-from-the-cold-anyone.html False Knight II: Bond of Revenge (Abyss Master, Navi007, Chari) http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101707-false-knight-ii-bond-of-revenge-abyss-master-navi007-chari-new-post.html Sat, 31 Oct 2009 05:18:54 GMT OoC: Anyone else who wishes to participate must ask me first. The listed participants must use the same characters they used in this RP's prequel. Don't forget! :] I myself will start with Mayula and then bring in Judo later.

BiC: Richard Tudor.

The man who was once the False Knight had plagued a town with his foul deeds and crimes for as long as the inhabitants could remember. He attacked, he stole, he killed, and then...he'd vanish. In mere thin air. This man's appearances were unpredictable and sudden. Rarely would any of his victims survive his assault. Some of the town's inhabitants fled while only the brave remained. Still, Richard's attacks and crime wave lasted for days and days on in. He had seemed to be unstoppable.

That is, until a group of brave warriors coincidentally found themselves in the very same town Richard attacked. These courageous heroes had combined their strength and courage to solve the mystery of Richard's cursed knight form and brought an end to his plague. Ever since then, they had gone their separate ways, unaware that a single stray piece to the puzzle was never found or never heard of.

In life, Richard not only had his fiancee, Marie Green, in his world before she died. He also had a close friend. A friend who once told him he would always be there for him. A friend who was like a brother. The unfortunate part of the tale, however, was that this friend had been as strange and twisted as Richard himself, and therefore became a cursed ghost much like his friend when he met his end at the hands of severe illness.

And now, this friend, known in life as Eric Brownly, had witnessed the entire battle against Richard from the heavens. He ceaselessly watched in disgust as the group of warriors departed the town, having completed the mission they stayed there to carry out, angry to see his best friend die. However, he somehow only saw Richard himself as a mere spirit wandering about. He had not known of the crimes which the man committed and seen only the final battle.

They will pay... Eric had thought to himself in great anger. They will all pay very dearly, I am sure. The cursed ghost departed from his current location, a place far in the sky where most ghosts resided, and chose his first destination. My first stop? The land of Hyrule. The kingdom of our origins, Eric later decided. That wrench of a general they have may hide a threatening mighty power within him, but that will not stop him or that girl of his from becoming my first victims.

***


"Aw come on, Mom! Wait up!" Mayula, the young daughter of Hyrule's famous General Judo cried out to her mother, Kelli. "Mystic can't seem to go very fast!"

"Don't worry, dear, you'll get the hang of it," Kelli assured May from up ahead. "Getting a horse to gallop can take practice." The two were practicing horseback riding skills out in Hyrule Field, the bright sun high in the azure sky. Mayula was set upon a small dapple gray horse named Mystic, smaller than her mother's horse, whom was a beautiful palomino named Sunfire.

May had begun her horseback riding lessons fairly recently and was just beginning to learn how to command the horse into a gallop. She continued to feel somewhat frustrated, but carried on in hopes she would become as good at riding a horse as both her parents as well as the Royal Knights of Hyrule, the army May's father commanded.

A few hours passed by as May and Kelli traveled by horse all through out the land of Hyrule, from down around Lake Hylia in the south to the paths by Kakariko Village and Death Mountain to the north. The sun began to set in the horizon as the pair traveled around Lon Lon Ranch in the center of the beautiful field. Kelli suggested they call it a day and head back to Hyrule Castle. May agreed, knowing she didn't want to be riding a horse in the dark when she was still learning.

"Besides," May continued. "Dad should be back by now. We ought to see how things went."

"Ah yeah, he was supposed to go do some errands in Mayia for your grandfather, wasn't he?" Kelli recalled. "Let's go for it."

The castle was not very far away. It was only right up the trail May and her mother had been on, through the drawbridge into the lively Hyrule Castle Town, and then straight ahead down the stone road. The pair took their horses through the said route to bring themselves back to the grand and mighty castle of Hyrule. The first thing they did upon their arrival was bring Sunfire and Mystic to the royal stables, in two consecutively placed stalls.

By this time, the sun had sunk a little lower in the sky, turning a bright pink color. The sky's azure grew into a dark blue, showing the approach of the night. As May and Kelli began to head for the nearest castle door, another figure emerged in their path through the very door they were headed for. It was Conan, General Judo's deputy commander, in his usual attire of dark red armor with short black hair flowing in the wind as he raced towards the mother and daughter pair. The expression on his face, however, did not look very pleasing.

"Oh! Kelli, May! I'm glad you two have returned!" he exclaimed, a hint of concern showing in his voice. "You haven't seen Judo anywhere lately, have you? Please tell me you have!"

"Why, no, We haven't," Kelli replied. "Isn't my husband here?"

"Unfortunately, he isn't. I don't understand why," Conan reported. "Judo was supposed to be back hours ago from his errands. What could be the hold up? May, you haven't seen your father anywhere, have you?"

"No, not I. This is awful. Where could Dad be?" May said. She instantly began to grow feelings of worry and concern herself.

"I'm wondering the same thing myself..." Kelli replied, an equal amount showing in her voice as well. "If something had happened, he'd have likely used my song to let me know."

"...That's right," Conan agreed, having just realized Kelli's words. "Something is very wrong."

OoC: If anyone can't get what has happened here, Eric discovered Judo wasn't in Hyrule and has done something to keep him in Mayia while he goes to Hyrule. There, I plan for him to lure May to her father and attempt to finish them there. What the rest of you do is up to you. :] ]]> The Crossroads Crystal http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101707-false-knight-ii-bond-of-revenge-abyss-master-navi007-chari.html Can I Really Help Anyone? (Sakume, Alti) http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101597-can-i-really-help-anyone-sakume-alti-new-post.html Wed, 28 Oct 2009 17:32:11 GMT Where am I? Am I alive? Was I ever really dead? Where am I? These thoughts raced through his head as the man sat up upon a stone slab that sat idly beneath him. He raised his hand towards the sun shining down upon him through the snow white clouds above. A quick scanning of the area revealed the... Where am I? Am I alive? Was I ever really dead? Where am I?

These thoughts raced through his head as the man sat up upon a stone slab that sat idly beneath him. He raised his hand towards the sun shining down upon him through the snow white clouds above. A quick scanning of the area revealed the man was within some kind of a ruined temple. The roof, itself, had probably erode away a long time ago. Still, that didn't answer his question.

Where am I? It was almost like a lightning bolt striking him and electricity running through his veins as he clenched his head in pain. Suddenly, memories... lots of memories began to flood back into his mind. Scattered and divided, the man couldn't make sense of the images at first, but slowly, his mind put them into a sensible order. Time stopped for a moment. The pain subsided and the man looked up.

The man's hair flowed in the wind as he looked at a strand. The green hair.... the sun... and this temple. They all felt so familiar. "Who am I?" his voice echoed out as he removed a strand of hair. "Perhaps you know," the green haired man said as the hair strand seemed to unravel and fly around.

"And why am I here?" he asked again, waiting for some answer. None came, but still, his mind wandered through the images it had been reassembling. So much... the only thing that really seemed to make sense were the things in the beginning... and the things towards the end. He had been born, grown up... and died. But how had he died... and why had he come back? None of these made sense to him yet.

Still, a single face stuck out in all of the memories. In the jumble of things that had happened, a blonde haired woman seemed to reach out to him severely. "I need to find this woman," the man said to himself as his body began to break apart into a light green colored wind and follow the wind paths. "I have to... since she may be able to help me." ]]> The Crossroads Zorolo http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101597-can-i-really-help-anyone-sakume-alti.html Unicorn Hunt (nikuvillan, + 2 others) http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101444-unicorn-hunt-nikuvillan-2-others-new-post.html Sun, 25 Oct 2009 00:26:47 GMT There is an old tale, one of gods and spirits…

A long time ago, when the earth was still new, there lived a unicorn. Made of the essence of life and spirit, this creature was free to roam the world, having finished the request of the gods. Long it roamed, and long it was hunted, the power of its horn sought after by frightened men and greedy wizards. It was not until this creature left its home upon the high mounts of ancient Greece that it finally found refuge in a world that did not know it...

“Or so the story goes,” an old man spoke, his raspy voice dry from his tale. The travelers before him seemed somewhat cynical toward the story, but he was not troubled by such a notion. Mystical creatures, it seemed, were a thing of the past. Yet these people were still here. “Now, if you would seek this power, and you believe my words, then know that only those with a pure heart can complete this task. The unicorn will show itself to none others. The curses, the pain you wish to relieve, all of this will vanish with the blessed touch of its horn.”

“And where will I find it?” Came the flat response.

The old man merely smiled, leaning back into his old wooden chair. All about him, his small wooden cabin creaked. “On the mountain, of course. The mountain of Kyronos within Heimlick forest, nearly twenty four leauges away. If you have the strength to pursue the unicorn that far, it is but a mere triviality. You must overcome the great Kyronos Peak, whose height surpasses even that of Death Mountain. Even then... yes, the unicorn is an elusive creature. Should you find yourself in dire straits, there is indeed a village where you may seek help. What interest they have in such creatures I do not know, but they are a friendly people.

So, what do you say, travellers? Do you think such an endeavor to be possible?"

* * *

Kryoshippos stood at the crest of a gray stone ledge, looking down upon the mountain with distant fondness. Long had she been the keeper of this land, though in truth, there was little to protect. All about her was fresh frost from the early morning, which had settled upon the empty ground in sparkling patches of white. This sheen blanket of ice would soon dissapear as the sun rose to smile upon the mountain, melting into tiny springs of water that would quickly freeze back over as it flowed into the icy crevices of the cliffs. Below this delicate white, there already laid a soft blanket of snow, which was interrupted only by the great jagged stones that jutted out of the ground. These monstrous shapes had been formed by years of exposure to ice and wind, as had the rest of the mountain, though much of this exterior was covered by innocent pillows of snow.

In all of this sharp contrast of black and white, there was little to quarrel with the two. No trees grew in the unforgiving climate, unable to bear the chill of the wind and the apathetic hardness of the ground. No warm blooded creatures lived upon this land either, for the air was too thin and the snow too cold. Further down the mountain, perhaps a mile or so, the most robust plants of the forest would dare to spread their branches wide enough to catch the sun, and the birds and chipmunks would make their homes in them. There, the air was more forgiving, though still sharp and cold as it mingled with the thick scent of pine. Within the austere land of rock and fir, there were also great preadators, mountain lions and black bears, whose insessant and desperate search for food never seemed to end.

The icy creature sighed, sending a cloud of white frost into the air. Craning her great neck, her deep blue eyes turned to the sky, which was startingly clear. It was a good distance before it touched the clouds below, which clung to the mountain like a giant halo. She knew that somewhere above, her gods were watching over her, whose onimpotent gaze pierced through even the thick fog below...

OoC: Reading this will help you get a better idea of the layout of the place ^^

Oh, and in case it isn't clear, Kryoshippos is the chara with weird Greek characters in my siggy. ]]> The Crossroads Fairess http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101444-unicorn-hunt-nikuvillan-2-others.html <![CDATA[Fashion Police [Sakume, Alti]]]> http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101411-fashion-police-sakume-alti-new-post.html Sat, 24 Oct 2009 02:53:01 GMT OoC: Lemme know if it's okay x3 Opening post is bleeeha.

IC:


Rain was stretching on that morning. It wasn’t very early; the warm mid morning sun was streaming through the windows as soft noises, very gentle and welcome talking and laughing floated throughout the household—or rather, this home, built with walls roof and a lot of love. Rain chuckled softly. It sounded slightly cheesy to him, but the only thing that mattered was that it was completely honest. It had been an extremely long time since he was able to feel this and have the confidence to go with it, to move forward, no matter what. It… wasn’t easy, settling down. In fact, he wasn’t quite settled yet; there was much to do… he had to find his sister soon, there was no leaving her alone. But for now, he put aside his occupation of ‘wanderer’ for this more than welcome position.

There was a smile across his lips as sweet scents wafted from the kitchen, along with sweet voices. Cadenza loved cooking; she was more than happy to make breakfast for her loves and even happier that she had all of them with her, in the kitchen, each helping with a certain small task so they could all sit and enjoy a lovely, lively breakfast together. It was over breakfast that they were discussing their plan for today. Jessica and Cadenza were going out. It would be just the two of them, so they could get to know each other a lot better. This left Rain and Kate alone to do what they wanted with the day; Jessica suggested to Kate, with a giggle, that she should show him around the mall—Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Rain thought, smiling. But it would be nice; they’d get to know each other well, too. He smiled more as he scooped Kate up in his arms, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. She let out a giggle. Today was going to be a good day, like the ones before and the ones to come. Rain smiled lovingly at Cadenza and Jessica, holding the little girl close to his heart. ]]> The Crossroads insaney http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101411-fashion-police-sakume-alti.html Habitat 17 (Cookie) http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101336-habitat-17-cookie-new-post.html Thu, 22 Oct 2009 06:21:16 GMT Foot after foot pressed forward in rapid succession, the scruffy-looking young man attempting to outrun his pursuers. Wrapped around his torso was his bag of possessions, and tightly gripped in his right hand was his pistol. The young man rushed down the hallway, making it around the corner and... Foot after foot pressed forward in rapid succession, the scruffy-looking young man attempting to outrun his pursuers. Wrapped around his torso was his bag of possessions, and tightly gripped in his right hand was his pistol. The young man rushed down the hallway, making it around the corner and swiftly spinning around to take aim at his opponents. Glancing at his watch and back at the end of the hall, Alex attempted to calculate whether he should run or fend off these people till he shifted.

10 seconds left...screw it.

The drifter pushed himself away from the wall, the sharp pain of the bullet in his shoulder emanating throughout that region of his body. The sound of footsteps soon followed behind him, and Alex began to pick up his pace. He came to the exit doors and pushed it open with all his might, only to be blinded by a floodlight. The sounds of a helicopter up above, dozens of rifles clicking, and a man on a megaphone ordering for him to get on the ground filled Alex's ears, but he hardly felt any fear.

"5...4...3..." Alex counted to himself with a mutter, his arms raised as he saw four heavily-armed men dressed in SWAT uniforms approaching him cautiously. His teeth clenched at the pain in his shoulder, the drifter continued to count. "...2...1."

With one, Alex held his breath and closed his eyes as the world vibrated rapidly. Suddenly, everything went quiet and dark, and the young man opened his eyes and gripped onto his pistol. Reaching for his flashlight in his bag, the young man pulled it out and flicked it on, brightening the area before him. Spinning around on instinct, he gave a sweep of his immediate vicinity, the cone of light illuminating nothing but tables, chairs, and empty space beyond. His heart pounding with stress, the drifter felt his muscles spasm as a rush of cold air came in contact with his skin. Breathing rapidly, he also noticed that his breath was visible in the form of a distinct smoke.

The young man slowly made his way through the area, passing between tables and over broken chairs, scanning the vicinity and faintly making out what appeared to be a large structure built for social gathering, not unlike a mall. The escalators were a dead giveaway, but what made the situation worse was the fact that they were inactive, and covered with a fine layer of ice. In fact, everything was covered by this incredibly thin layer of ice, bringing Alex to question why on earth the temperature was so low in this place.

Making his way up the escalator, the rugged traveler began to shiver as the darkness and the cold took their toll on him. Alex had encountered bizarre universes before, but this seemed much more disturbing based on the fact that it seemed utterly abandoned and devoid of any life. Even for someone who could never stay dead permanently, the transdimensional drifter still felt some fear in the face of forces that could wipe out entire populations. As he continued to traverse through the abandoned complex, Alex began to uncover pieces of the mystery behind its dark, cold emptiness. What appeared to be a mall was in fact just that, yet all but the most mundane of objects had been removed from the stores. Alex could assume that the compound had been ransacked, though there were no signs of violence, struggles, or even bodies.

Taking one step in front of what appeared to be a metal door, Alex cautiously studied the device and saw there were no doors. Perhaps it was automatic? That brought to question what the power source was, and how advanced the civilization that forged such technology really was. Placing his pistol and flashlight on the ground, the young man brought his fingers to the thin crack in the doorway, managing to slowly pull it open with all of his strength. The bitter cold stung his hands as he began to yank the door open forcefully, eventually making him quit halfway through because of the sheer pain. Picking up his gun and light off the ground, Alex took a step through the crack and entered a dilapidated hallway.

The decay in this place just doesn't stop, does it? The drifter thought to himself as he stepped over broken glass from weathered out light bulbs, the shards cracking under the soles of his shoes. I'll probably need to start a fire soon, if I can't find any power to this dump.

Moving further along down the corridor, Alex began to realize that the structure was far larger than he anticipated, and seemingly lacked windows and door to the outside world. Whoever built this structure had intended for the residents to stay indoors, apparently. The crunching of glass, mixed with the grinding of thin ice and concrete below filled the silence that ever-presently hung in the air. There literally was no one here but Alex, unless they were desperately hiding for their very life in this place. Through the trekking, the young man came to a door with a handle, which also had flickering light seeping through its cracks.

Gripping tightly onto the pistol and flicking off his flashlight, Alex came closer to the door and put away his light. His free hand sliding across the handle, the young man waited for a moment before he pulled open the door and pointed his gun to nothing but a wall of concrete with '17-4A' painted on it in bold, red capitals. Whatever each of the numbers meant, Alex could only conclude that this place was even bigger than he discovered from sweeping just most of this floor: it had to be enormous.

Taking a step towards the railing of the staircase, the drifter peered down into the darkness of the lower floors, seeing nothing but endless staircases. Some of them were broken entirely, preventing movement from one floor to the next, and in other places the lights were busted out, leaving one flight of stairs entirely enveloped in darkness. Looking up, Alex saw only a handful of staircases to go, this facet combined with the sensation of cold air falling downwards onto him. Whatever was the source of the low temperature, it had to be up and not down.

Making his way up the concrete steps, the young man continued to ponder what was the origin of this structure, as well as its currently dismal state. The creators must have been incredibly advanced, and to abandon such a building would've been rather foolish unless faced with extreme disaster. In any case, Alex noticed that the lettering changed from '17-4A' to '17-3A', as he progressed higher and higher each floor. Reaching the doorway that led to floor '17-1A', he once again brought his hand to the handle of the door, and suddenly pulled it open to point his gun into the flickering light on the ceiling.

The atmosphere of this floor was obviously different from that of 17-4A, in the fact that functioning lights, even just flickering and on the verge of being total nonfunctional, were incredibly common. Despite the colder temperatures, Alex knew that this part of the structure was much more important than those below, causing him to question the actual design of the entire facility. However, there were only a few ways one could discover the design: exit the building and see it from afar, connect to any functioning systems that provided schematics, or the remote possibility of encountering someone with knowledge of the structure itself. To the drifter, only the first two options were most likely, despite the possibility that the building had no exit or functioning system with schematics. ]]> The Crossroads Kaleidoscope http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/the-crossroads/101336-habitat-17-cookie.html