Long ago, the Gods of Gorlund crafted a magnificent map which allowed them to create anything on the surface of Gorlund, be it creatures, landforms or magical items of power. This map is the most realistic map imaginable detailing the land of Gorlund in a three-dimensional view. You can even see small figures tilling the fields and walking the streets of a fantasy world. A world of magic, swords, mythical creatures and villainous dark lords. With this map, the Gods may see all that is happening in the land of Gorlund, be it good deeds or evil plans.

One day, the God of Chaos and Darkness, Arachill, decided to steal the map so he and his minions could rule the land. With the map in his hands, he could wage war on Gorlund. He could know the plans and movements of the enemy. With the map, he could eventually take over the land with minimal effort.

Before the Gods could react, Arachill gave the map to his minions and they hurriedly set about to amassing an army. Arachill was banished for his shameful act and he vowed revenge on the Gods. With the map in the hands of the Chaos and Darkness army, the balance of life would be tipped too far. Without the map, the Gods couldn't do anything to stop the army except making small delays. This gave them time to make up a plan to recover the Map Of The Gods.

The Gods appeared in a vision before the great king of Gorlund, Leuthus, and warned him of the impending doom. With this warning, King Leuthus announced the news to Gorlund. Hasty defences were made and walls reinforced. Countryfolk evacuated to the cities to escape the wrath of Chaos and Darkness. A plea of help was sent to Gorlund's allies, the Elves Of The Forest Yeedlar and the Dwarves Of The Mountain Ranges Of Irloin. The pleas were heard and reinforcements were marched to the capital city of Gorlund, Stareach.

The King also needed brave volunteers to breach Claurse, the city of evil and seize the Map Of The Gods. A small group could go unnoticed and slip past the huge army and reach Claurse. But the group would need to reach Claurse by two months for they cannot hold out long against a siege. Claurse, a total of a thousand and a half miles away, lies on the other side of Gorlund. Will YOU accept this perilous task alongside other brave adventurers?



The land of Gorlund is a massive landmass surrounded by water. We will start at Stareach, the capital of Gorlund. Stareach lies on the most western side of Gorlund, atop a cliff which overlooks the cityport of Greytan. The guardian of Stareach is an enormous light dragon by the name of Blinding Star.

To the northwest lies the Forest Of Yeedlar, a forest of magic and huge trees, home of the Elves who live in treehouses along the canopy. The guardian of the forest is a massive tree ent by the name of Yeetlah.

To the southwest lie the great mountain ranges of Irloin, home to the Dwarves. They live inside the mountains themselves with warrens and tunnels. Their guardian is Magristo, a huge rock golem.

To the east lies the dark and grim city-fortress of Claurse, atop a plateau overlooking the sea. The guardian is an enormous darkness dragon by the name of Zeqwah.

To the northeast lies the Dead Forest. Home to the Dark Elves. Filled with dead trees, they live in fortresses. Their guardian is an massive dead tree named Retyus.

To the southeast lies the Mountains Of Doom, inhabited by goblins and orcs. Their guardian is a huge goblin-orc-giant-ogre-troll hybrid named Fismah.

Two major rivers cross the land. The River Hetru is clean and serene and lies near western Gorlund. The River Walmyar is a polluted and smelly river that lies in eastern Gorlund.

A neutral city lies in the great desert plains of Dritilo to the North. A great Sand Serpent guards it.

To the south lies the volcanic city, Volcrick, in the volcano Vrity which is also neutral. A fiery Phoenix guards the volcano.

In the centre of Gorlund lies the great lake Tesu with an underwater city in it's depths. Underwater people inhabit the city but little else is known of it other than they being neutral. A Water Elemental patrols the lake.

YOU may choose any race on the western side (the good side).



Humans - An adaptable race which is dominant throughout Gorlund.
Elves - The most oldest and respected race, renowned for their gracefulness and powerful magic.
Dwarves - Short and tough creatures. Well known for their love of ale and bushy beards.

Gods Of Gorlund (Vacancy, Gods Wanted)[I'm serious! Suggest some.]
Noliss - Nature Goddess
Akarin (Thanks Blood Angel) - God Of Magic
Vadrift - God Of Criminals
Arachill - God Of Chaos And Darkness
Haru - God Of Stone
Strelt - Goddess Of Water
Flaltar - Goddess Of Fire
Drutuk - Goblin/Orc God
Aracalm - God Of Justice And Light
Serena - God Of Balance
Cherilin (Thanks Xtel) - God Of Music And Song
Teiws (Thanks Deimos) - God Of War
Freyjar (Thanks Aliath) - Goddess Of Beauty, Love And Fertility
Enki (Thanks Aliath) - God Of Death
Klaos (Thanks Scry Arcane) - God of the Stars

Got suggestions? Leave a comment!

Players:




You can take my application as an example.

Application
Name: Froldor Heladorn
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 24
Appearance And Weapons: Stands 6'1" tall and has short and orange-yellow hair. Has a slight build and fair complexion. Has green eyes and a clean-shaven face. Wears chainmail under his red and yellow sleeveless robes, showing his chainmail until his wrists. He wears brown gauntlets, leather boots, a belt with a sheath and pouch. Also carries a backpack on his shoulders. Has a dagger in his boot, a sword in his sheath and bow with a quiver of arrows on his back.
Specialty: Knows the layout of the land
Occupation: A Border Ranger
Personality: Calm and bold but sometimes, his boldness turns into stupidity.
Background: Growing up in the country, he grew to love nature and it's creatures. When the forces of Chaos and Darkness threatened to destroy the beauty of nature and turn it into barren wasteland, he joined the volunteer group without any hesitation. Leaving his parents in the hands of his brother, a captain of the guard, he felt sure his parents would be safe in his absence. He worships the Goddess Of Nature, Noliss.

Looks interesting; I'll join. You should make some changes, such as listing the races, lands, etc.

Application
Name: Arianna Lunari
Gender: Female
Race: Elf
Age: Looks around 20...
Appearance And Weapons: Around 5'11, slim but fit, with fair skin, silvery-blond hair, and light gray eyes the color of rainclouds. Has a willow staff carved with runes.
Specialty: Knows healing magic very well
Occupation: Elven Sorceress
Personality: Quiet, but sharp and observant. Sometimes scornful of the less bright people she meets, but her moods can be very random - not that the change is outwardly perceptible.
Background: She grew up with her father, the captain of the elven rangers. A mage taughter her magic early and she showed a potent gift for it. When the forces of Chaos threatened to destroy her homeland, her father urged her to join the group of volunteers, so she joined them. Worships Akarin, the god of magic.

Just a friendly tip, you might want to remove the little part about the bragging, because it makes you seem more mature. I might join, probably after my new rp.

Application

Name:

John

Gender:

Male

Race:

Elf.

Age:

22.

Appearance And Weapons:

Appearance: Six foot Four Inches. Light skinned, very thin. Jet black hair and green eyes. Wears dark colored clothing, always long sleeved and long pants (also dark colored). Does not wear any armour as it slows him down too much.

Weapons: A long bow that was a gift from his father. A pair of Butterfly swords he keeps at his waste in a single scabbard, both of which were a gift from his late teacher, and a Katana type sword: a gift from his mother.

Specialty:

His specialty is with a bow, but he can use swords (and daggers) well, but not as good as he can use a bow.

Occupation:

Ranger.

Personality:

Quiet, he does not make rash decisions.

Background:

Early on in the war his village held a fight to see who would join the party going after the map. His father suggested he join. John did, and won won second place. Unluckily for him, the first place winners twisted their leg on the day that he was going to depart to the city. As a result, the party membership fell to him. Shortly after John's leaving, an elite force of Darkness' soldiers surpised his village and killed everyone in it. As a result he has turned very cold towards the army of darkness and hopes to meet the group responsible for his villages distruction, so that he may get his revenge. He has vowed to bring a swift end to this war, so that other villages do not have to suffer what his did.

~John

Letter For Blood Angel. Direct from Stareach.



Letter for John Adams. Direct from Stareach.

Sounds interesting enough. Can't wait to see how you're going to play this out. ^.^

Application

Name:
Dvalinn Vhraed
Gender:
Male
Race:
Dwarf
Age:
32
Appearance And Weapons:
Taller than the average dwarf, yet still a lot shorter than the average human, he stands about 1.30 metres tall. He has a muscular build, the result of physical combat training. He has a semi-long, well trimmed black beard and black hair, about neck length, and dark-coloured eyes. He wears a black suit of armour, including boots and gloves, so that his whole body is protected. He does not wear a helmet.
He wields a huge double-bladed axe, with black blades with a diamond edge. He cares not for other weapons, brute force is the way to go.
Speciality:
Dvalinn possesses incredible strength from training in heavy armour and using his heavy axe. As a result, he is hardly hindered by his armour and is rather agile (for a dwarf that is ), while still being able to land a huge blow with his axe.
Occupation:
Captain of the guard of the Dwarven capital of Asgard
Personality:
Rash and loud, always seems to be rather cheerful. He believes brute force can solve just about anything. Eager to take up weapons, even if the odds are against him. Happy to go into battle. To him, death on the battlefield is the ultimate honour.
Background:
When the message detailing the plan to retrieve the map arrived, the Elder Council of Asgard assigned Dvalinn to the team. Years of combat against the horrors that lived deep in the mountains had turned him into a battle-hardened veteran, making him one of the strongest living dwarves. As loyal as Dvalinn was, he immediately answered the Council's call, uncaring for what he was getting himself into. It sounded like a hell of a battle, and that was enough for him.

God Suggestions:
-Cherilin, God of Music and Song (connected to my character, you'll see why)

Application
Name: Soren Montevarde
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Age: Depending on how Elves age, he appears around his early twenties
Appearance And Weapons: Soren's hair is long and black, though there are a noticable number of silver-white hairs intertwined; it also contrasts his rather pale skin. His eyes are a clear sky blue. He stands rather tall, being at 6'4", and is very thin and gangly. Normally, Soren wears a pair of dark leggings with a bluish-black coat and lighter grey shirt beneath. Around his neck is a thin scarf, slightly lighter than his coat, that he also seems to wear as a sash around his waist when he needs it out of the way. Soren's fighting style is much more of a "support" style. He uses three different tools for it: a lute, a flute, and a lyre. Using magic and different tunes, he can influence his allies and enemies in positive or negative ways. He is also able to use normaly magic as well, but it seems to be greatly amplified by his instruments.
Specialty: Read above section
Occupation: Spoony Bard!
Personality: Kind, Calm, Peaceful; While he sometimes comes off as overconfident, he is actually normally nervous and frightful.
Background: Soren has lived in the Forests of Yeedlar for most of his life, rarely venturing away from it. As a child, Soren was nearly killed by an Orc, which caused a faint fear of creatures from the Mountains of Doom. At a young age, Soren learned to play the flute, which quickly became his favorite instrument and activity. Once learning to use magic, he discovered he could use it with his music to cause greater affects. Soren often prays to the god Cherilin.

EDIT: Just noticed John Adam's character looks a lot like mine (ironic, since I hadn't even read his app until after writing this one) -twilight zone music-

Application
Name:
Sky Stryke

Gender:
HAWT-MALE

Race:
Elf

Age:
27

Appearance And Weapons:
Sky has long, silver colored hair, which goes a little past his shoulders. He's 6'10, and has a slim frame. His eyes are sky blue, but even though he considers blue a strange color, and prefers green. (lolRandom.) He wears a set of heavy plate mail, not including the helmet due to the fact it usually limits his vision. Whilst not in combat, he wears a gray two tailed jacket, which is supported with light metal shoulder pads. He has a long jet black scarf that reaches his black pants.


Specialty:
Melee combat, one handed sword.

Occupation:
Royal Guard

Personality:
Friendly, charismatic, and fiery.

Background:
Sky had a rather easy life as a child, even though he had no mother. His father was the captain of the royal guards that protected the elven king, and thus earned a lot of money. Sky wasn't spoiled, since his father saw what happened to spoiled children. When Sky was 14, however his father died from a dreaded disease. Sky's life changed. They made Sky be like a slave, and after a week he had enough. Sneaking out into the woods, carrying with him his father's sword, he lived in the woods until he was 21, where he went back into the village and worked as a body guard, after saving a member of the royal family from a pack of wolves, he was suggested to become a royal guard. He accepted, and after 6 years of doing pretty much nothing but staying in the palace he became bored, and wanted to do something else. He found that the king of the humans needed help, and many of the normal soldiers marched with them. None of the royal guards wanted to, except for Sky.




I thought elves were renowned for range... Dwarfs for their melee skills, and humans for... Balanced stuff... And stuff...!?

So, where do we begin?

Oh, that reminds me, I wanted to suggest another God too: Teiws, God of War

Letter for Deimos. Direct from Stareach.



Letter for Xtel. Direct from Stareach.



Letter for Atomic Stuff. Direct from Stareach.



Ok, I'ma starting!

IC: Froldor walked the streets of Stareach, his eye on the Palace. As he neared the gate, two guards shouted at him.
"Halt! What business have you in the Palace?"
"I wish to seek audience with the King so I can join the volunteer group,"
The guards looked at each other and nodded. One held the arms of Froldor as the other began searching him. Froldor's sword, dagger and bow with quiver was taken from him.
"You'll get these back once you leave the palace," said the guard as he lugged the items and threw them into a store room nearby. They signalled the gatekeeper to open the fenced gate. Soon, a stout man came from the other side of the gate and took a large key-ring filled with different keys. With a short pause, he took one key and slotted it into the keyhole of the gate and turned. There was a click and the gate was pulled back. Froldor stepped through onto the courtyard as the gate closed behind him. All around, scholars and sages, with the occasional guard walked the pavements of the beautiful courtyard, busy with their duties. Froldor walked up the steps of the Palace to a large double-door with two guards standing on either side. Another check was made and Froldor was ushered into the building. A soldier with the rank of captain approached him. Froldor immediately recognized him. His brother.
"Follow me brother, into the dining hall," said Froldor's brother, Freldor.
Froldor was led into the dining room with a feast laid out a long table with a huge white cloth covering it. Freldor motioned for him to sit into a chair and wait while the other volunteers arrive. They were already some volunteers seated around the table, chatting excitedly about the perilous quest. Freldor soon left to welcome the other volunteers and Froldor was left with a flagon of ale in his hands and plate of roasted chicken slices basted in Spirits Of Fei in front of him.

Heyy, wait 4 me!

Name: Xen(noone really knows)
Gender: Human
Race:Human
Age:19
Appearance And Weapons:Wears a black hood and a long black cloak. Wears a black t-shirt and black trousers. Has black hair and black eyes. Has two daggers attached to his legs, wich he stole from a rich elven captain.
Specialty:silent killing
Occupation:Assasin
Personality:calm, patient
Background: His life was easy as a child, but his mother died because of a desease and his father couldnt live with it, and killed himself, leaving Xen behind. He grew in the streets. He also was a great thief, he lived his life with stealing, and killing. Not much to say. He sometimes prays for Arachil

Dvalinn, having arrived as one of the first members of the team, had been talking loudly to the people sitting near him. His loud and heavy voice echoed against the walls of the great hall, filling the room. His enthusiastic laughs seemed out of place, considering the task at hand, but the dwarf didn't seem to mind. He enjoyed the food and drinks, and the company of fellow warriors, and a certain sense of happiness had come over him.

The first to notice the newcomer, Dvalinn raised his drinking horn from the table and saluted the new arrival.
"'Ello laddie! Nice to meet ya! The name's Dvalinn, Dvalinn Vhraed, Captain of Asgard. Welcome to this feast!" He said with a big grin on his face.

Soren sat at the large table, almost hidden by trays and food, his lute in hand. He had his eyes closed as he nimbly plucked at the strings, tuning it quietly. As he sat there, he thought back to a week before...

Soren sat on a branch of a tall tree, letting one leg dangle aimlessly below. He was gently slipping his fingers across the strings of his lyre, letting a soft, melodious tune drift forth, when an arrow shot towards him, barely missing his head. He let out a yelp as he lost his balance, falling into the bushes below. He was welcomed by a bout of laughing as he stood. His long-time friend, Gregor, stood a short distance away, a longbow in hand. Soren scowled and pulled his lyre from the bushes, thankful that none of the strings had broken. He looked towards his friend as he tuned the instrument. "What do you think you were doing!? If my head was an inch to the left, you'd have killed me!"

"Well, let's be thankful the tree was as thick as it was. I was afraid the arrow would miss the tree altogether."

"Why were you even aiming at the tree!?"

"Obviously, you didn't get a good look at the arrow before you fell." Soren scowled as he slipped his lyre into a holster strapped to his back. He climbed up the tree, thankful that some of the branches were low, and pulled the arrow from the tree; slipped around the arrow was a thin piece of parchment, wrapped in an elegant gold ribbon. "I met the messenger near the edge of the village and told him I'd deliver the message. Looks like you're finally getting out of here, Soren."

Soren ignored Gregor as he read over the short letter quickly before letting out a groan. He slid the message into his coat before dropping back to the ground. "Why did you even send that message to them? I told you I would never do something so risky."

"It's not my fault they want your 'musical talents,'" he said, stifling another laugh. "Besides, you need to get out in the world and do something."

Soren sighed as he walked over towards Gregor. "I still don't see why you sent a message in my name rather than your own."

Gregor let his smile falter a bit and put a hand on Soren's shoulder. "You know as well as I why this must be. Soon, Arachill's armies will attack from the east. I am to lead much of our homeland in this battle. I cannot leave them now, when they will need their greatest warriors. I trust you with this task though, my friend. Now go; the sooner you find the map, the sooner we can stop them."

Soren let out a sigh, not exactly sure how Gregor had been able to convince him to leave. He let the thoughts disperse as another member was brought into the room. He was greeted by a dwarf, in the seat to Soren's left, named Dvalinn. Soren looked towards the newcomer and nodded, smiling both kindly and slyly. "My name is Soren, Soren Montevarde. So, now we have a member of each of Aracalm's children." He looked off to the side, staring at a gold emblem sewn into a large navy blue wall hanging, and began to strum a song, letting his magic flow with the sound, meant to increase the bravery of all who heard it. The Gods know if they don't need it, I certainly do.

OOC: @ Deimos: Just noticed that Dvalin (where I assume Dvalinn is from) was the dwarf that crafted Gungnir for Thor.

IC:

John stepped through the door into the massive room crammed with long tables covered in mountains of food. This puts anything my village ever had to shame John thought with a small bit of sadness, that he was careful not to let show outwardly. Not they ever will get the chance to rival this after the war.... He eyed a table empty of people, and went over to it. He picked up one of the empty wooden platters and filled it with food from around the table. Carrying the platter he found an empty seat on the corner of the table: one that allowed him to keep a casual eye on both the door into the room and the other people sitting at the tables. He set his platter down, shifted the weapons on his belt around, slightly, unhooked his bow. Sitting down he set it on the empty space next to him, and began to eat.

~John

IC: Arianna grimaced inwardly. She shrank in her seat, looking down and trying to ignore the world. The dwarf was way too loud for her liking, considering the task ahead. The music, coming from an elf strumming a lute, was filled with magic. She generally disliked magic other than her own, since she was especially sensitive. And the stench of dead meat was enough to make her want to vomit.
"Excuse me," she murmured quietly. "Please stop the music."

OoC: I also took the name of the Dwarven capital, Asgard, and the Wargod's name, Teiws, from Norse myths .

IC: Not hearing the Elf sorceress' soft complaints, Dvalinn didn't give the Human any time to respond to his greeting either. He had noticed another newcomer, who had secluded himself from the rest by sitting down at an empty table.

"Well whaddaya know! Another forest dweller! I never figured the old tree huggers would send so many fighters! I'm surprised!" He said loud enough for all to hear. "Oi! You over there, with the bow!", he continued, yelling at the Elf, "why don't ya come over 'ere an' introduce yerself? We'll be spending lots of time together 'nyways!"

Dvalinn took another big sip form his horn and beckoned the Elf with it, to come to their table.

"We might as well meet all our new friends at once, eh?" he said to the bard sitting next to him, a big smile on his face.

Ooc: I swear, you're trying to torture Arianna and probably a few other quieter people. Be nice, will you? Women are scary when they are mad. Especially when they have an active imagination.

IC: Arianna glared at hole in the back of the dwarf's head. "I never figure the hairy rock lovers would send one of their number," she muttered fiercely. Being in a bad mood did not ease her dislike of her loud soon-to-be fellow adventurer. The dwarf was already on her list of people to avoid as much as possible.

IC:

John heard a manly, or dwarfly, voice bellowing from one of the occupied tables. John looked around to see if there was any other elves there, with a bow that the voice could possibly be talking about. To John's slight annoyance there were not. He turned and saw a dwark staring directly at him, Typical Dwarf, John thought Annoyingly loud, atleast he is not drunk, yet. Standing up John picked up the wodden tray with his left hand, and the bow with his right. As he got up he noticed a female elf and another one playing music. Interesting, John thought I would assume this is the party I am joining. He walked over to the table and sat down: a good two feet away from the nearest thing living on that table (which happened to be the dwarf). John turned towards the dwarf, and said "It is customary, when asking for anothers name, to first give your own. Otherwise it is rude. And as you, pointed out, master dwarf, we will be spending alot of time together. Never-the-less, my name is John."

John turned pack towards his plate and began to eat.

~John

Dvalinn was surprised at the fierceness with which both the Elves spoke to him. He always figured Elves to be quiet and serene, scared of all kinds of confrontations. The Elves present didn't seem to fit that stereotype though, which caught Dvalinn slightly off guard. But, since it was a feast, he didn't want to ruin it by getting into a fight with someone on their first few moments together. Addressing both the Elves, trying to speak in a softer voice, but still rather loud for normal standards, he said:

"I'm sorry laddie, lass.", nodding at them both, "Just ignore me manners. Yer all a bit more sophisticated than me, I reckon. The name's Dvalinn, from the city of Asgard. Nice to meet ya."

Soren's ears pricked upwards slightly at hearing the quiet voice of the Elven woman a short distance from him. He slid a hand over his lyre's strings, silencing them. He smiled kindly at her. "I'm sorry, miss, I didn't mean to disturb you." He smiled at her again before looking over towards the Elven newcomer. "Another from the Forests of Yeedlar, I presume? It seems like I may fit right at home here."

IC: Arianna instantly regretted her outburst. Her father was constantly going on about how she was most unlady-like sometimes, but her magic, still a bit wild and uncontrollable, had a way of speaking through her. She gave the fellow guests a serene smile. "I'm very sorry if offended you. I am Arianna Lunari, from the Forests of Yeedlar."

IC:

"I ask that you forgive my manners too, master dwarf." John said, looking directly at the dwarf "There have been circumstances of late that have weighed heavily upon me. To answer your question," John said, turning from the dwarf the now silent musical elf "It is true that I come from the forests, of which part I do not wish to say. I do not wish to darken the mood of this feast, so I will not say anymore about it. We have all introduced ourselves, except for you. What is your name?" Female elves, John thought, careful to keep his face from revealing what he was thinking, Their moods change like that of a leaf blown in the summer breeze. And this one possesses the gift of magic too. Probably a spoiled royal too. John turned back towards his plate and began to eat, again.

~John

And again... Rune Warrior is in active. I hope I'm not too late!


IC:
Sky's horse paused as they reached the top of the hill, seeing the human palace in sight. "This is where the volunteers go to?" He said to himself, looking at the courtyard. It was teeming with life, people were walking around. Some talking, others trading, and the royal guards making their appointed rounds. Taking in the sight of the beautiful palace, Sky advanced towards it.

Before the guards could start the 'interrogation' , Sky simply said 'VOLUNTEER' and put his case of armour before them, and revealed his only weapon, his father's blade. The guards let Sky go, and when he was halfway to the large doors of the palace, he said to himself "Phew. Thank God that these humans aren't so secure." He said, remembering the times when he had to be fully checked at the dwarvern palace, even though he was a royal guard. Opening the door, a large table was there, with people who were probably the volunteers, or members of the royal family having a snack. He sat down at the innermost seat, and looked at the plate of food set before him.

"Revolting."

The feast was interrupted by the opening of a large double door. In strode in two Royal Guards with halberds, then came four Knights with their blades of steel by their side, two Warrior-Monks with their spiked maces and the King's personal adviser, Jerud. Then came the King himself, Leuthus. He wore a gold crown with gems encrusted in it and plate armour with a red cape fluttering behind. In his expensive scabbard was the legendary Sword Of Light. Leuthus sat in a throne-like chair on the end of the banqueting table. He smiled at everyone around him and spoke, "Brave adventurers. Men and women of all ages and of all races. We are gathered here today to have a feast before the perilous quest that has been bestowed on all of you. Tomorrow, you will embark upon the journey. Arachill has betrayed the pantheon of Gods and upset the balance. His minions are now being amassed and in three days time, the army will march on our city. But for now, we have to enjoy this feast for it may be the last for some of you. You may spend the night in the guest rooms. All the facilities will be made available to you. If you desire weapons, the Royal Armoury will provide the best weapons in all of Gorlund. If you want training, the Training Grounds behind the Palace will satisfy your needs. If you hunger is still not sated, feel free to approach Dreftor, my personal chef. Our stores are plentiful." Froldor was feeling full. He glanced at the faces around him. Some are young, some are scarred and some are unfazed. He caught sight of an elf with a bow with multiple strings? Froldor strained to see what it really was and it turned out to be a lyre. Froldor spoke to the group, "I hope we'll all get along nicely. There's a saying 'A piece of paper can be torn easily but a whole book would require superhuman strength.'

IC:
'Sure. If we don't cooperate, we won't get through whatever we're aiming for.' Sky said, standing up heading towards the armory, thinking that his father's old sword might not be so useful anymore. Coming to a stop as he found the armory manager, he asked if he could leave his sword here so he can come back and get it. "Sure, please select your preferred weapon." The man said, moving aside to let Sky get into the armory.

It may take superhuman strength to tear a book in two, but it takes little to tear it apart, page by page. "Thank you for such gratituity, my lord," Soren said as he stood and bowed. He slipped an apple up his sleeve before leaving the room. He pulled free his lyre and began to strum together a slow song as he thought. In three days' time, the battle will begin... In three days' time, my people will go to war... In three days' time, my friends, my family, my entire people, may die. He continued wandering, not sure where to go exactly, until he arrived at the armory. He slipped in, taking a look at the different weapons and armor. I'd be more hazardous to my allies than my enemies with most of these things... He pulled free a leather belt, a dagger in a sheath to either side of it, and left. It might not help much in a fight, but for what I can do, it's better than nothing.

"Ahahaha, the only weapon I use is this one 'ere!", said Dvalinn, as he patted the giant axe on the side of his chair with his right hand.

"Enough sittin' around like this! Those Training Grounds sound good." Dvalinn energetically jumped off his chair and lifted his double bladed axe with ease, as if it was much lighter than it seemed. He swung the axe over his shoulder and said: "Anyone up fer some sparrin'?"

Dvalinn hopefully looked around the group with a grin on his face, expecting an equally enthusiastic response from them.

IC:

John finished his plate of food. Typical dwarf, John thought Always wanting to fight. Atleast his is not trying to provoke one. John stood up Outloud John said "I will spar with you, Master Dvalinn. I must first go to the armory, and pick up a blade, I do not want to risk breaking or scratching my weapon in practice, I would rather save it for the battlefield, and a couple men in particular. I will meet you on the training fields, unless you wanted to stop at the armory first, too?"

John turned towards where the king was seated, "Thank you for your hospitality, King Leuthus."

~John

Application
Name: Arkillon Zebankel
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Age: 29
Appearance And Weapons: His dark brown hair and vivid green eyes contrast with the pitch-black tunic and leggings he wears hooded. A longsword rests at his hip.
Specialty: He's extremely agile.
Occupation: Mercenary
Personality: He always has a smug look on his face, though he isn't cocky in character. He isn't quite the friendliest elf you'll meet- but he's still respectful.
Background: Will not divulge for plot reasons.

IC:
Sky saw the bard walk into the armory, and looked back at him. "What is your purpose in joining this expedition, if you have little combat experience, and aside from that... your specialty is in the lute." Sky commented, as he saw him bring down a leather belt and a dagger. Taking a large, two handed sword down, Sky exited the door and went towards the training grounds to see if any of them were even thinking about preparing. Surprised to actually see two of them have a bit of discipline in them, Sky sat down on a bench to see the outcome of their little spar.

Damn it! I meant to edit my post, not quote it!!!!

"I'll go with you, laddie." Dvalinn replied. "I always wondered what Human weapons look like from up close."

Like a child in a candy store, Dvalinn followed John into the armoury. At the sight of all those weapons, a smile appeared on his face. He walked up to a cabinet of swords, and inspected them. He shook his head, with a bit of a demeaning smile on his face. He never understood why Humans where so keen on light, sharp things.

I'd be afraid to put some force behind a blow with that thing, scared of maybe breakin' it.

As Dvalinn walked on, he passed a cabinet of bows. His smile immediately disappeared. The weapon of cowards. No honour can be had usin' this.

He turned around and walked towards the door. There, he turned towards John, swung his axe from his shoulder and stuck the bottom of the handle in the floor. Leaning on it, he waited for John to choose his weapons.

(Jake's Application is accepted. Do you still want a letter like the others?)

Froldor grabbed a loaf of bread from the table before heading out the double doors behind him. He went outside and around the building to the Training Grounds. He munched on his bread and unsheathed his sword. The sword was shining in the full light of the Sun and Froldor felt very proud of the trusty sword which has protected him from harm in countless occasions, the most recent being ambushed by highwaymen. Froldor began to lunge and parry, marvelling at how the sword cuts through the air faster than the eye can follow. A guard soon came by and offered to spar with him. "It'll be an honour to spar with a volunteer. I wish I could go along with you but alas, my services are needed here in Stareach," said the guard in armour as he unsheathed his blade.

IC:

John walked along the racks of weapons, admiring the huge racks of all weapons imaginable: axes, daggers, cross-bows, long bows, short bows, various poll-arms, and swords. If my village had had access to this amount of surplus weaponry, John thought they would have put up a much better fight. Then again, they were surprised attacked by those cowards. It were at these that John came to rest. He selected a katana with a ruby inlay along the handle. He hefted it, checking the weight. Finding it to his liking, slowly he brought it over his shoulder then across infront of him. Good blade, John thought, he reached up and lifted the scabbard and belt off the rack. He put the belt into one of his pockets and attached to his belt, before sliding the belt inside of it.
"I have all I need." John said outloud.

~John

"Aha, great! Let's go!" replied Dvalinn.

He once again swung the axe over his shoulder and headed outside. As he walked into the Training Grounds, he noticed Froldor and a guard, getting ready to spar. This might be interestin'...

John walked past him and out into the Training Grounds, about to unsheathe the katana, but Dvalinn stopped him and pointed at the two men: "Laddie, let's watch 'em first. I wanna see what kind of fighter he is."

The guard charged at Froldor, his blade raised above his head. A fearsome sight but not enough for Froldor to turn tail. Swiftly, Froldor raised his foot up high, aiming for the guards head. The guard, having realized what Froldor was doing, was gaining too much momentum to be stopped and the abrupt kick sent him spiralling towards the ground and his sword flying through the air. "Nice kick," snarled the guard. He surprisingly kicked Froldor's sword arm, sending Froldor's sword out of his hands. He jumped up and did a one-two punch on Froldor's chest before slamming him into the ground with a loud thump. Froldor winced in pain as the impact was very strong. Froldor grabbed hold of some dirt and flung it at the guard's eyes. The dirt hit it's mark and the guard stepped back, desperately wiping away the dirt. Froldor stood and used his elbow to knock the guard onto the floor. With the agileness of a cat, Froldor retrieved his sword and aimed the sharp end at the guard below. "I yield! It seems that you are a match for me," admitted the guard. "Your no bad a fighter yourself," replied Froldor as he helped the guard up on his feet.

IC:

"Very well." John said, turning towards the match.

A rather weak fighter, John thought after seeing the match end. Neither side displayed skill beyond the basic level. And what is worse, that man is a coward: resorting to throwing dirt, rather then fighting equally. He is a disgrace to his name.

John turned and strolled away from the sparing grounds. John carefully leaned his bow up against the wall. He unslung his quiver and placed it next to his bow. They would only get in the way of this spar John thought. He walked back to the sparring grounds, and stood next to the dwarf.

~John

Soren walked through the halls of the palace, no real destination, when he stumbled upon a long hall of private prayer rooms. He entered one of them, a harp engraved in the arch above it, and sat on a stone bench in the small room. He pulled free his lyre, much smaller than most, from a pocket within his jacket. He began to strum it, letting his magic run with the music. As he played, the air around him seemed to waver, until his surroundings changed to those of a hilly field, a small town a short distance away. He played quietly, the sound echoing around him, the wind blowing past him. As he let the final note of the song echo, the air seemed to waver again. He felt nearly blind back in the prayer room, lit dimly by several candles, and sighed. He slipped his lyre away before exiting the room. As he continued to wander, he came across a courtyard, grass only growing in small patches, the rest being trampled and destroyed. In the center of the courtyard stood Froldor and a man in armor, from which Soren could tell was a guard, each with their sword out, sparring. After a minute, Froldor had won. Soren remained where he was as he watched Dvalinn and Froldor prepare to spar as well.

Dvalinn recognised the look of disgust on John's face, after seeing the tactics Froldor used. I bet he's thinkin' the same thing right now

"Whaddaya say, laddie? Shall we begin?" said Dvalinn, as he walked into the middle of the courtyard. He turned back towards John and grabbed the handle of his axe with both hands. He then put his left hand at the very bottom of the handle, and his right hand somewhere halfway up the pole, to allow for the optimum combination of strength and manoeuvrability in his blows. Next, he bent his knees a bit, putting him in a bit of a crouching position.

"En garde, as the Humans say."

Froldor and the guard stepped out of the training ring and sent on some benches nearby. "Sorry 'bout the dirt," apologised Froldor as he offered the guard the remaining bread in his pocket. The guard accepted it eagerly. "I've been hit by far worse than mere dirt. That was quick thinking. Although some would call it dishonourable to throw dirt into the opponent's eyes, using the environment against your opponent is key to victory. Let's watch this pair. Should be a good fight," said the guard who introduced himself as Drutik.

IC: Arianna got up from her seat and went to the King to thank him, smiling kindly, as her father always required her. She found the guards that had taken her staff and thanked them also when she got it back. Then she went to the courtyard of the castle, as some other adventurers were heading there.
The grass is so badly trampled. They don't take care of the plants, she realised angrily. Her staff's silver runes glowed and shimmered with her mood, sending a wave of healing magic into the ground itself. Immediately, the grass, shrubs and other forms of plant life in the courtyard seemed to gain a vital glow; she had instinctively healed them.
"Take care of yourself, little plants," she murmured, bending over to touch the now thick, emerald-colored carpet of life.

IC:

"Aye," John said "Let us begin."

Let us see how good of a fighter you are. John thought. John took a few steps back. He brought out his sword and in one continuous swing brought it behind him, and over his shoulder. Stepping forward with his right foot John put his momentum behind the tip of his blade as he aimed it in a upper right towards lower left cut at the dwarf's chest He is a close range fighter, John thought Slow, but powerful. I have to keep up the speed, to wear him down.

~John

Dvalinn knew what the swordsman in front of him was going to do the second he put his right foot forward. Too predictable, young'un...

He braced himself and lifted the axe higher, catching the descending blade with the axe's handle. For an instant, the two fighters didn't move, weapons locked, each trying to push the other away. Dvalinn brought his head closer to John's. Softly, so that only John could hear it, he said: "Come now laddie. Ye think you can push a dwarf away?" A small smile appeared on Dvalinn's face. He inhaled a big gasp of air and, with a loud roar, pushed the Elf a few feet back.

Immediately, Dvalinn followed up on his push and ran towards John, his axe firmly in his hands. Suddenly stopping a foot in front of the Elf, left foot forward, Dvalinn used the momentum from his run to swing the axe at John's right side with incredible force.

Soren was watching the sparring match between the Elf and the Dwarf with slight interest, when he felt something move by his feet. He looked down and realized the dirty, dusty ground beneath him had changed into a sea of green; a short distance away, next to another arched entryway into the courtyard, the Elven woman from before was kneeling in the grass, running her hand over it. He quietly approached her, until he was close enough that his shadow came over her hand, moving back and forth through the grass.

"I can only assume you were the one to do something like this?" He said, catching her attention. He walked over to the wall behind her and leaned against it. "It must be wonderful, to be able to control your magic so well, so easily, and use it to help others all the time instead of just manipulating them." He looked towards the skies, watching the clouds drift across the afternoon sun. "To be able to heal the sick, to mend the wounded... to do something that cannot be done without magic." He looked at her, a faint smile across his lips; the spar in the still dusty training grounds beyond was turning to background noise. "People can use weapons, even themselves, to hurt and kill; certain people can even use words to confuse, frighten, even empower others. However, no matter what a person says or does, they cannot heal someone instantaneously. Only through magic can you do such a thing. Only through magic can you give somebody back what they've lost." Only through magic can you do the work of the Gods.

Froldor stood up and excused himself. He felt tired after the day and decided to get a good nights rest before the journey. He went back into the palace, prayed to Nolriss before wandering the corridors until he found the room. He opened the door and stepped into the luxurious room. A big bed sat in the corner and Froldor jumped on it eagerly. He noticed a bell pull hanging beside the bed and curious, Froldor pulled it. Seconds later, footsteps were heard outside the door and the door was pushed open. In came the face of a young man, wearing a servant's uniform. "You called for me sir?" asked the young man. Froldor realized that the bell must have meant he needed something. "Could I have a glass of water and perhaps some fruit?" asked Froldor. "Right away sir," replied the servant as he closed the door and the sound of footsteps fade into the distance.

IC: Arianna listened to the other elf talk.
"Yes, sometimes it gives me joy," she agreed quietly, turning to smile again at the green shoots. "But it's not as easy as you think."
Her face darkened. "Everyone's life is a story. My story was not be so happy, so I learned to heal with magic, to bring life to others so they can enjoy the world. That illuminates my world for a small part."
Arianna stood up, her face an expressionless mask; she was somewhat a diplomat when her temper was in check, thanks to her father. "Elven politics is even more complicated than the backstabbing that takes place among the humans. Because of my social standing, I am bound to expectations. Because I have the gift of magic, I am bound to rules. Beause I am the daughter of my father, I must grant favors and play a delicate, but deadly game throughout my entire life. It is probably better being a human, no?"

Arkillon was brutally pushed to his knees, beside the King's seat in the large, empty dining room. Two guards held onto each one of his arms, while the third one courteously bowed and cleared his throat. The guard was disconcerted by the smug look on the Elf in Dark Armor's face, and suddenly hoped that he hadn't been telling the truth minutes earlier. The King idly twisted his empty goblet in his left hand, and motioned for the guard to start speaking.

"Your Highness, this man wished for an audience with you, he claimed to be a volunteer," said the guard. "When we asked for his invitation, he went for his sword-"

"Actually, I was reaching for my letter," interrupted Arkillon. One of the guards holding him down smacked him behind the head.

"... His dark armor, sir... It doesn't look like he'd want to come in aid to us! I have doubts that he's even an elf!" continued the guard. "I brought him here to see if he was who he really claimed to be..." Arkillon chuckled, and quickly freed one of his arms from his captors grasp, punching the other one in the face immediately after. Both arms freed, he removed a small scroll from his belt and poked the second guard in the eye, causing him to stagger backwards. Arkillon threw a solid punch to the gut of the third guard, and then presented his scroll to the King, who didn't seem the least frightened. The King unrolled the small scroll, and then nodded his head.

"The others are practicing in the courtyard, I believe."

Had to have the bad*@# opening, didn't we, Aliath.

IC: Soren looked at the Elven woman again, a sad note to his eyes. He slid down to a crouch next to her, staring at the grass she had brought to life. "While I doubt I will ever know how sorrowful your life must be, I wish to understand as best I can. My village, while not as poor as some, was still rather small and rarely dealt with politics, though I know the ways of some cultures. I agree that Elven politicians have ways to sway a crowd whether with words-" He slid a hand to his back and plucked a string from his lute, the sound resonating for a time with the aid of magic. "-or other methods. Even while I know some of the ways of politics, I doubt I could even fathom how deeply convoluted some politicians' plans are." He slid back from his crouch until he was sitting on the grass, one leg bent up, the other lying flat on the grass. "Perhaps the fact that you've been called on this mission is a gift from the Gods, freeing you from your past life. Should we succeed, you could always find a place in another part of the world to live, free from your father's hand. You could live how you want, no longer bound by others' expectations and plots." He looked at her and smiled kindly, hoping to lighten the mood. "Who knows? The Gods work in mysterious ways."

Yes, the bad*@# opening seemed suitable. Don't worry, this character won't become an antagonist. As a matter of fact, these type of characters are the closest I can get to protagonists.

Yay! No more sadistic murderous and beating-of-small-dwarves-by-whip-lashing-toes!

I'd gladly make an IC now, but I've got to head on over to my swimming lessons. I assume you'll just assume that my character is the courtyard? Yes, make that assumption and greet him.