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| The Land of Wolves IC (in c... | ||||
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..haracter) [[If you are yet to sign up visit the thread named "The land of wolves"]] Guasta carefully examined his surroundings. Although it was dark, dark enough so that many races would not be able to see without the light from a lantern, he could see perfectly clearly. His vision brightened dark areas and dimmed lighter ones, making everything the same brightness and tinted yellow in colour. There was no-one around, no-one suspicious at any rate Guasta then moved inside the tavern that was directly in front of him. He looked around once more, taking in his surroundings. The tavern was strangely quiet. It was because of the wolves. A while back another had set out to attempt to cross the barren landscape that was the Land of the Wolves, but he had not been heard from for at least three months. Now no one expected to ever see him again, and this had put the locals in a depressed state of mind. The taverns only occupants were one large group of travellers who were talking loudly. Beer was flowing freely and as they consumed more of the potent brew they became more and more boisterous. The only other occupant was a solitary human sitting in one corner. He looked depressed, and had obviously come to the tavern to drown his worries in several pints of beer. Guasta strode purposefully to the back of the room. Although he could not tell himself because of the way his vision worked, he assumed it would be one of the darker areas of the tavern. There were fewer candles in this area, and the only candle nearby, which was set into the middle of the table in question, had gone out some time ago. Guasta sat down. He did not order any drinks, nor did he take of his travelling cloak. He did not even lower his hood. The only reason he was there was to wait for the others who were going with him on the quest they had been planning for many weeks, and when they arrived they would depart again just as quickly, after a brief discussion of where they would head next. As Guasta waited, another came into the tavern. Soon after the figure headed towards where he was sitting.
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Thomas Deallus came from the lands of Tasidian, a wanderer since he left his home years before. He was a mercenary and gave his trust to few, but it was worth it when he did. He wore his traditional mercenary armor comprising of a steel breast plate, with steel chainmail that protected his arms. He had two steel longswords at his side, but hidden underneath the black cloak that he wore to protect his identity. He gazed up at the dark sky and sighed to himself, knowing that dark times had come to this land. A sense of dread weighed down upon his mind, but he brushed it off and continued on his way. He kept his hood up and lower over his eyes as he entered an old tavern that had only a few sounds of enjoyment coming from within it. He looked around and saw a few people before deciding to sit at a table in the corner. He ordered the tavern's special ale and slowly drank from it as he thought about where he would travel to next. | ||||
A elf walked into the tavern, his hood up and in complete silver clothing. His other features were covered by his robes, leaving only a smile showing on him. He carried a sack, full of clothing, food, and a couple of books. The elf also had a staff, which he carried around out of habit. His name is Leo Serion. "Hello, bartender. May I have some Honey Mead? I need something to start the day with." The elf sat down next to the men at the bar. | ||||
A man walked into the tavern wearing a black travelling cloak. He had short brown hair and brown eyes. He had a long sword and a long knife hidden under the cloak. He looked around. The tavern was relatively quite. There was only one large group and a few lone drinkers. He walked to the bar and ordered an ale. He picked up the ale and sat down at a table that had several candles burning around it. He opened his cloak slightly to check his weapons were secured to his belt. There was a an engraving on the hilt. It was an eagle and the sign of his family. He was called Dethos II. | ||||
An elf walked into the tavern, his head held high as his black robe swayed with the night breeze. He was young and yet his eyes seemed to scream otherwise, looking into their jet green glow seemed to fill the person with loss, hatred and experience. He was ruthless and cruel, anyone who stood in his way was obliterated with a curse mumbled under his breath. Sycrese, the Dark Mage of the Void glided to the stool in a dark corner after ordering age old wine. | ||||
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