mr_e_s

Hey, this is us, leaving.

Stark Fargo had been playing with a wagon when it rolled down a slight incline. Stark had barely paid it any mind, except for when the wheel fell off and the wagon, which was clearly abandoned, as it was devoid of any goods, looked somewhat lopsided. This didn't stop Fargo from treasuring it like a kid might do with a cardboard box his father had told him was a mighty steed or an amazing warship. Stark never ceased to be befuddled at the antics of that particular kid, though. For one, he was way too old to be that lost in imagination, for another, wasn't a cardboard box... Maybe he should have just let the debtors.... nah. Another merchant rolled up, maybe taking the broken cart as a sign that there were goods to be had from it. Not one to skip[ an opportunity, even if it meant starting his new honest life on a lie, Stark stepped up and did the talking. "Thanks. Our cargo was stolen while the bulk of us were in the city trying to find a vendor willing to buy. They bashed up our wagon pretty good, too. The kid there was the only one we left on guard out here. You can tell, he took it kind of hard." Stark looked around in advance of his next lie, letting the merchant eye up Fargo. Dom...No, he looked kind of scary with the knives. Jeph didn't talk so much. Blaine couldn't selll it with jus tone arm, Fargo....no, just, no. Rutem was very clearly still looking the part of a knight. Damnit, who would he use... Fuck. "That guy is our boss, Helios." Stark almost stumbled his words at how stupid the name he thought of was, but he wasn't exactly an expert liar. Neither was...whatever this guy's actual name was, but he at least looked the part, seedy and not battle tough. Stark really hoped this guy wouldn't fuck it up or fuck them over, but either way, he left the floor to the "boss".

No worries, yesterday me and some friends were finishing Secret of Mana together. Also Master and Commander.

then have your new char walk in already, Christ. That excuse gets old fast.

Just like to chime in, no tinstigate, but to say I think that negative information put in a more positive light is nicer, but often ruins the point of theinformation. People don't change until they're forced to see what's really wrong, and diplomatic ways of saying things rarely get the point across adequately to really do anything. Sugar-coating criticisms is cowardice. Fear that people won't like you because you speak your mind. The world is full of cowards, though, so hey, when in Rome, make sure you don't hurt any of the Romans' feelings, I guess.

And see, you barely missed anything, no worries.

Stark "Fargo's... We all saw some stuff back in Oakheim. Fargo and Jeph have been... different since then. Hell, maybe I am too. I probably would have suggested we kill you a few days ago." Stark took a more powerful stance. He really wanted his words heard and understood here. "Look, guy. You're a liar. You're a bad liar, and you're a persistent liar, pathological, probably. You're a liar who screams about trust while trying to screw over folk. And realizing all that, I already said you can come with us, but if you're going to keep up this charade, we'll go with Blaine's idea. I'd be willing to bet the recent arena champs might have just enough clout to get you locked away on our word alone. If you really want to come with us for some reason, either tell the truth or shut up...so probably just shut up." Stark turned around and kept walking he wasn't going to let this slow him down any more. honestly, it was just ridiculous at this point... Fuego The now crooked bed very slowly rolled Fuego out of it. Klints took just enough of the leg out that he couldn't find a groove to stay in. He kjnew Klnts well enough to know he had neither the skill with a sword or the knowledge of carpentry to make such a cut without the unlikeliest of flukes... Damnit. Fuego got up, and dressed properly for his day. Basically h just swapped out his PJ pants for his day wear pants and slapped on a shirt. It was so bright out... Fuego leaned out the window to see Klints already running off, in no discernible pattern. Fuego barely had to raise his voice for all the ground Klints had covered. "Wait up." A few people looked up, but not Klints. Yelling seemed like too much effort.. Fuego decided it would be quicker just to catch him on foot then to try and grab his attention from any distance. A quick hop out f his window and a daring descent to the earth later, and he was only a few meters from his geomancer partner. No one really noticed much, and the descent wasn't all that daring, considering his room was on the first floor of the inn. He leisurely walked up to Klints, catching up with him a minute later. "Let's turn around. If something happened at the arena, I should see it for myself. We'll work out what to do from there." Fuego had a patient, if still perturbed note to his voice. He felt older then he actually was when he hung around Klints. Sometimes he had to remind himself he was only seventeen.

God requires a valid photo ID.

Stark "Look, guy. You're clearly a bullshitter. Not a great one, either. Stop jumping around saying stupid things and trying to fuck us over for no reason and you can come to Corthrone and fail at swindling a living there." Stark probably should have discussed it with everyone, but he really just wanted to move on, and this distraction was obviously not worth the effort. "I'm gonna go lean against that wall a minute and pretend my arm isn't killing me, someone else do the talking." Stark made it almost two steps before correcting himself. "Someone not him." Stark pointed to the questionable guy, turned around, turned again and pointed once more. "Or Fargo, that wouldn't end well either." Stark didn't even bother turning. "Or Jeph. He talks funny. You know what, maybe you should just takwe care of this, Dom." How sad that he only had one guy in this group he considered reliable. Well, Blaine hadn't done anything to prove otherwise yet, but he was too new to really trust with anything yet. Fuego Woken up by Klints. Again. Way too many times. Klints was too excitable. "What are we going to? Did one of the merchant's piss you off again?" Fuego took his bearing long enough to notice both the open note and the writing in the sand... "Damnit, stop bringing sand in my room. Anyways, I guess you read the note and know the phylactery's here, and that you want to be all gungho and get it. Why don't you go get Mr. Lightning or Eisig if he's back yet? Either of them could handle this kind of thing on their own. I honestly just don't really care that much about this." Fuego halfheartedly tried to go back to sleep, knowing full well Klints wouldn't allow it, he'd shake the ground or remove the stone floor underneath his bed or some other dick move to get him up. Still, a man had to try.

No worries, we're still waiting on Snike's promise of csquared being back in "a few weeks". I run a pretty lax ship.

OoC: I'll assume Dom is the scariest champion. Stark The group were almost outside the city's walls. Caravans getting ready to depart would be out there, along with caravans just arriving. There wouldn't be lots of either, but it was a decent shot at least that one of them would be heading to Corthrone. It might actually be a little longer and maybe even a bit harder of a trip babysitting a caravan, but there was always the issue of pay. They wouldn't be willing to pay lots from here, he knew. This wasn't exactly a town renowned for it's trading friendliness, so no one would really make a crazy profit here. When the world shut down, Alabaste was all too quick to follow suit. It left the merchants that were stationed there with little to work with, past the bribes and levies needed to even accept goods from caravans. Few bothered any more. And the ones that did jacked up the prices to outright exorbitant heights and left them for the foreigners to give away their life savings for. The system was, for all intensive purpouses, broke. And Stark had no intentions of fixing it. Another distraction in the form of a questionable character. Stark had noticed him out of the corner of his eye leaving the arena, and once again behind the group a few streets prior. No questioning the shadiness of his character, then. Still, the guy was addressing Dom, probably seeing him as the strongest here. Stark would have taken some offense to that if he didn't have such a strong urge to adventures in the tundra for a few years to keep the burning pain in his shoulder in check. As it stood, he was contented to listen and gauge the situation from there. The man introduced himself as Harris, and referred to Dom as Henry Was that Dom's real name? Did these two know each other already? The man seemed to know about Corthrone, somehow... And with a simple sentence, any chance of this being a genuine conversation fell apart. He called Dom a merchant. There was his mistake. Stark put his hand on his hilt, in case this situation turned ugly or weird. Fuego The late afternoon sun was beating down heavily on the town of Alabaste. Fuego was somewhat oblivious to that, in his mid-afternoon nap, though. Sadly, the naps were getting fewer and further between, and they had a nasty habit of being interrupted. Today didn't seem to be a day of exceptions, either. A messenger... vulture? ... Whatever, anyways, a messenger bird came by and carried a piece of news that was actually kind of interesting. The phylactery was supposedly in town, according to someone calling themselves Prophet. Fuego recognized the name, vaguely. He was pretty sure Prophet was from another cell, he was supposed to be able to control monsters and see the future. but he wasn't a master of either or something. Fuego honestly didn't care lots, and this wasn't an order from on high, technically, so he could probably just ignore it... Except for the part where the phylactery was a high priority... Damnit. Better find the others. The boss was probably still wandering around. He did that. Mr. Lightning was probably off doing his own damn thing. He didn't know where Klints was, but that wasn't all that important. He could probably take care of this himself, anyways. Barring some super awesome badass mage, he was probably okay. In fact, he could probably just go back to sleep...

*sigh* The First RP I ever made was on LotE, it was called Pirate's Treasure, and it's from 06'. I was still on GFAQs then. I also started another RP on LotE, Carthica, which I also did on GFAQs a bit later on. I think the GFAQs RP might be shortly before archiving came in. I know Sen was in it. This was on Necromancer. Besides that, Shu's Quest. Those are the only RPs I've ever run, and as far as I can recall, absolutley no one ever got laid in any of them. If they did, it was off screen, so to speak. Non of my chars have ever caressed someone gently or took them roughly or anything in RP. I really can't stress enough how much I hate the concept of an orgy RP. The Orgy RP ideas were when I lost my last bits of respect for you, Snowy. Please don't say I ever started one, it's kind of a sore spot with me. As to your other attack on my character, about peddling bloopers and pushing people to become my followers, I'm really unsure how to respond to that. I mean, I definitely wrote boopers, I still do. I still hang out with some of the other people what wrote them back in the day, too. Like Kenny and raak. I'd never call them followers, mind. Just, friends. There's a core difference in that if I told them to do something they didn't want to, they'd tell me to go fuck myself and suggest several orifices in which my orders could be stuffed. I've never really made an effort to lead anything. Even my RPs have been very focused on the idea of everyone inputting together to make a world and a story. As to being self-focused. For sure. Tat's pretty accurate. Snob though. How so? Because I don't think so, and I'm pretty self-aware, I think.

Whoa I never started anything resembling an Orgy RP. I can list and link every RP I've ever started. I'm not going to unless someone asks, cause it's some effort, but fact remains, no ORgy RPs in my past. I've never even had one of my chars get laid, except off screen with NPCs. If you'll check Snowy's RP Orgy thing, I even said in there that I thought it was stupid and awful and all that jazz. I don't appreciate this slander on my char. I wasn't even going to bring up either of your Orgy RP attempts here, Snowy, but if you really want to be a dick and conveniently misremember the past, then fine. You were always creepy, self-important, and hunting e-girls. You've never run a decent RP, and you've ruined RPs that were good. The Original CAFE was amazing, and your bastardization thereof was an abomination. I left GFAQs long before you, and when I checked back your first group of followers were already sick of you. Now your second group has abandoned you and you're here. And here's the fun part. I don't care. You guys have fun stat RPing, getting in threesomes, whatever the fuck you want. Just don't be throwing my name falsely around, cause really, that's a huge dick move, and we don't need more pointless fights on the internet. In other news, Seras left you for a reason.

Working on it, just need someone to play along at some point.

Stark On the way out of the arena, Stark was limping, hobbling even, one could say, but he realized that was more due to soreness then actual injury. His shoulder actually felt manageable, which was more then he expected 15 minutes ago, doing his best to hold in the screams. It still hurt like a motherfucker, but not to the point of demanding his full attention. He gave a few hopeless glances around for Eltiar, as though his old friend had just wandered off to buy some peanuts or use the lavatory. He knew there was something more important going on, that fact had hit him like...well, a bolt of lightning. Stark had no idea why or how, but he was involved in something big, bigger then a guy who spent the last year of his life getting drunk and taking bribes so he could keep it up should ever be involved in. The only reason he was alive several times over was a man Stark had made the very smart choice of befriending several years ago. He literally owed him his life, and he was never around to thank. Eltiar had always been a mysterious man. He was friendly and smart and kind and all that, not to mention powerful, but as long as Stark had known him he had a penchant for disappearing without any notice. At one point, Stark had stopped thinking about it, figuring Eltiar just had some important mage stuff to do like reading or meditation or something. He never really understood anything about magic, himself. A pang in his shoulder brought his head out of the clouds. Maybe one of the doctors had slipped him something, cause he felt a little lightheaded. Still, gotta focus, gotta move on. Be strong, keep everyone together, find something better. Stark kept his little limp march going at a pace slightly above walking, heading for the exit. Some onlookers gawked at his wounds, others recognized him from the arena fight and congratulated, one patting him on the back a little too near his shoulder burn and getting a look from Stark that clearly said sticking around him would be a bad idea. Ignorant motherfucker. Who pats a burn wound? Sadistic bastard. Stark walked up front, alone, not even checking back to see if anyone was following him (though he heard Fargo loudly chattering away, so he knew at least Fargo was around, probably with someone to talk to). Alabaste used to be such a great city. Well, not really great, they were never too fond of foreigners for some reason, and the prices were always a little high, taxation and all, but it never used to be this bad. Stark wondered if Corthrone had become some variety of terrible shithole since he'd last been there too. The Brute Not bothering to conceal his disdain for this lesser specimen of man, he shook his head at Prophet's stratagem. For one who had the endowment of precognitive capabilities, he had an amazing lack of forethought and cunning. "If my information is correct, the entirety of the shizen cell should be stationed in Alabaste. Dispatch one of your less noticeable underlings to them, if your abilities so allow. The last thing we need is for your less than subtle methods to attract the wrong sort of attention, if they haven't already." The Brute looked around the former township one last time before making his way out, past the behemoth atop which Prophet still sat. The large creature stepped aside, recognizing the dominance of The Brute. "I find myself weary of this incinerated hamlet. I'm off to search for civilization, and indeed, some civilized company." Something still pestered at his senses about this place, but he would not allow himself to turn back and investigate once more. The pride of both asserting his dominance over the behemoth and it's...master would be enough to quell any nagging concerns he had for the moment.

Not Fargo. Fargo loved that town!

OR IS HE? ...Yeah, he's actually pretty dead...

As a note. I prefer MSN, as it's friendlier for group convos and a fair amount of people have it. MSN: bobozansibar@hotmail.com AIM: freespisalt Also, I'm on Legend of the Emblem a fair bit, the link is in my sig.

As long as they get out of Alabaste. Sorry Script, but the general consensus seems to be that we've already been there too long, so I don't really want to do that whole storehouse thing.

Stark "Jeph has the right of it. We're not an army or even mercenaries, I don't think. We're just some guys trying to get by. This whole arena thing was the idea of... Well, the guy who didn't make it, actually. As to the whole laying your life down, no one wants that. If you don't have a chance, run. S'what I'd do." Stark shifted uncomfortably, painfully aware that the soothing spell had been lifted. "Personally I just want to get out of Alabaste, keep moving. Go to Corthrone. I don't think anyone could talk me into staying here any longer then I absolutely have to." A tap at Stark's uninjured shoulder caught his attention. He turned around to see the shortest mage was the only one left still working on him. The tap came from one of the doctors, A gangly teenager, looked like he shouldn't know a lot about medicine, but Stark couldn't complain with the work done, so he'd probably better show some respect. Take whatever advice he was about to receive to heart. "Get out." The doctor said, cold and unemotional. "What?" That wasn't the advice he'd been expecting. He kind of expected a lay off the fighting, bed rest for a week or something, not so much with the getting out. "Your injuries are no longer life threatening, your wounds have been sealed. Our duty here is done, any further work will be charged to you, and the rate for an outsider is...high. Higher then your winnings today. So get out, before you get trapped in debt and forced to use whatever skills you have to feebly try and pay off your debt while getting more and more in the hole every day, with the cost of living being more then your earnings, despite your abilities obviously being worth more then what they pay you, being forced to work in some shit hole patching up idiots with dreams of fame and fortune." He lost his stoicism somewhere in the middle there, and Stark finally got at what he was saying. "You're just lucky that old guy soothed the burns that soon, otherwise your arm would be permanently limp at your side." He added, as an afterthought. Stark took the hint, shook off the last mage who was probably looking for overtime pay or something, and stood up a little shakily. "Yeah, let's get the fuck out of this city."

Oh God, Ronny's reading this topic! Don't panic, e_s, say something clever to get him to respond. So, the current state of Shu's Quest could be called...Damnit! I blew it!

Stark Dom had a knack for cutting through what people said into what they meant. Stark was a decent reader of people, and he kind of got the same vibe off of the guy, in between vibes of pain coming from himself, now that his shoulder's pain was lessening to the point of being bearable, the rest of his body decided to remind him it was in no prime condition even without the shoulder burns. Still, he couldn't complain with so many healers focusing on his injuries. He'd have probably been left to die most places out there. He was considerably lucky, all things considered. Turning his attention on the guy that apparently wanted to take him down and all of a sudden didn't, Stark kept a very discerning eye on him for a few seconds. He seemed to be a swordsman, if an awkward one. He was wearing a cloak, in this heat, in sunny weather. He had something to hide. Maybe he was scarred and real vain about ti, but Stark didn't think that's what it was. "Well, here's the lay of the land the way I see it." Stark said, managing to straighten up his sitting stance a bit while a somewhat flustered mage tched at him for moving in the middle of some light soothing spell to keep the burning pain away while they worked. It was only half working as it was, and Stark did indeed feel the pain come back a bit more as he moved. Doing his best not to show it though, he continued. "You're either a decent fighter, really dumb, or some mixture of the two. You seem pretty desperate, and our little group, if you could even call it that, lost a man out there today. I don't know if we're even going to be traveling together after this, but as soon as I'm well enough to head out, I wanna head for Cothrone, to see if I can't find myself some honest work guarding trading caravans or something. Everyone's gotta make their own choices, but last I heard, Cothrone is one of the few places left where a hired sword can make a living without having to break the laws of the kingdom or slice down his fellow man too much." Stark had to break his speech with something akin to a groan as one of the doctors put his hands on the shoulder, trying to set it in place or test it's reflexes after the burn or some other stupid thing that made Stark only able to focus on the blinding pain. Composure regained as the hand left the shoulder, Stark turned his attention on the group. Jeph had said something, but Stark hadn't really heard it through all that. "I'm not looking for adventure. I just want to find a place I can be happy and live well enough." The Brute After the infernal fall of the township of Oakheim, and after the smoldering blaze was reduced to the merest cinders. Prophet's beasts went to work, clumsily turning over fragments of former structures and arbitrarily committing haphazard acts of barbarism upon the debris. The Brute cared as little for these vermin as he did for their taskmaster, mindless puppets forced into servitude for a marginally superior intellect to their own. Even that was debatable, questionable to be certain. The Brute found himself unable to contend with the insufferable presence of Prophet moreso then the creatures of base instinct he kept as company. It took him only a day to reconsider his priorities and the importance of the phylactery against the repugnance and antipathy he felt towards his assigned companion. The increasing allure of departing the ashes of Oakheim didn't lessen as he looked upon the former drinking establishment of the community. Towards a spot he once filled, which was now filled with the refuse of the ceiling and walls. He'd looked upon this scene several times in the last day, occasionally monsters could be seen mulling about it's remains, searching for an object they had no hope of understanding. Sometimes, like now, it was devoid of obstruction. He couldn't help but feel that something noteworthy had occurred here. Several ordered searches of the building revealed no evidence to authenticate his intuition. Still, he was fixated on this point. It held some mystery he couldn't unravel. He sorely yearned for another opportunity to investigate the building before it combusted in a blaze of dry wood and alcohol.

So... I'm kinda curious, how many chars per person do you guys have on average? It seems like you just keep adding chars to an already bloated cast.

Well played. I'll try and run my RP less lazily.