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Thread: Lakes - {M - IC} [REBOOT]

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    Default Lakes - {M - IC} [REBOOT]

    Lakes




    This roleplay is rated M for the following: Definite Violence, Definite Language, Definite Blood and Gore, Possible Alcohol Usage, Potential Sexual or Suggestive Themes

    " And down to the lake where the last we go,

    I was not laid, with those down below,

    Oh they will wait, the fall and the row, with the trap show, failing from,

    Presence from upon,

    Harrow winds that falls upon the highs and low "








    W A N T E D

    AnY And ALL WhO ARe WILLIng TO RISk LIFe AND LImB (AmPUTeeS ALSO WeLCOme), TO TAKe PART In A eXPeDITIOn TO FInD THe LAke OF GOLD.

    EnqUeeR AT THE TURF AnD FeATHeR In ZëNë AnD ASk FOR

    (The name Rennie is rather scruffily scribbled out here)


    ROnnIe

    aND aLSO AnDY

    (The poster is illustrated at the bottom with a rough doodle of a helmet and a sword)





    (Some light mood music)







    Zënë was always a fun place to be.

    The city was a oceanside paradise wrapped in a blanket of elegance and amusement. The place was never quiet, but not necessarily in a irritating way. Music lulled constantly in the background ambience of the place, and a gentle hum of content chatter never wavered. The rich masters of the city were always roaring with laughter at a joke shared between equally wealthy fellows. They seemed to swim through the city's streets on streams of fine silks and flowing satins. While the more common citizens of the Haven bubbled and gushed around them cheerily in their more habitual hand-me-downs.

    It was a happy place to be.

    So it's no wonder Ronnie stood out like an absolute sore thumb.

    Draped in his muted greys and browns, the Duende practically loomed over the happier merrymakers as if he were the reaper himself. One passing merchant had even attempted to give him coin, mistaking him for a poor soul who had drank from the Sea of Sorrows. Andy fit into the place contrastingly well of course. She hopped from foot to foot eagerly, seemingly completely incapable of remaining still.

    Her face was awash with pure childish glee, girlish enthusiasm for the upcoming venture utterly unmissable. Daft thing was even still handing leaflets out left right and centre. Most took them with awkward confusion, whereas a rare few visibly scoffed at the mere idea of finding such a thing. Yet it seemed Andy would not lay content until the whole of Tokë was aware of their quest.

    How long had this been nothing but a mere dream now?

    It didn't matter. They were going to find it this time.

    He may have looked semi-comatose but Andy knew Ronnie was just as eager as she was. He just, showed it differently. That's all.

    Ron grabbed one of the leaflets aimlessly as they waited, a weary frown covering his face, "Why here again? As in, this particular pub?"

    Andy didn't even look at him when she replied, "Because sarnies are half-price when you've got a group, and Polly know-"

    "YOU SPELT MY NAME WRONG."






    The last mosquito that bit me had to check into the Betty Ford clinic

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    Amidst the sea of colorful, vibrant robes, a lone figure covered in ashen tones effortlessly stood out, much to his annoyance. Wherever the ragged stranger went, a rather large circle of personal space was always granted to him, but not out of courtesy or respect. The crowd treated him as if he was death and decay manifest, despite the only odor coming from him being the faint smell of dust and earth. Jeers and comments were thrown aplenty, but always in hushed tones and never directly to his face, most likely in fear of his monstrous appearance.

    "Mother, look! A monster! Like in my storybooks!"
    "Hush! Don't look at him. Stay behind me."

    "Look at that sod. Little early for costumes, eh?"

    "What were the guards thinking letting him through the gates?"


    Lazarus paid no mind to the sea of people that parted in front of him with every step. It had been quite a while since he'd been around this many rich folk. Usually, he'd stick to moving along the impoverished alleys and market quarters of cities, but alas, even the worst parts of Zënë are better off than the best parts of the other settlements he's been to. He looked out across the terraced streets and at the ship-laden harbor, which seemingly sparkled and radiated warmth as it reflected the midday sun. Behind his hollowed eyes, Lazarus felt a slight unease boiling within him. This place was much too... beautiful. Too perfect. Whichever realm of existence this was, he did not belong here. Sighing heavily, he bowed his head behind his tall collar and quickened his pace.

    A gloved hand peeked out from under his cloak holding a crinkled sheet of paper. Lazarus looked intensely at the scribbled words. If he still had eyelids, they would be squinting. "En... Enquee-- queer at... the Tor-- the Turf and Fee-- Father. Feather. Turf and Feather." He sighed and mumbled the words to himself over and over as he stopped to search for the meeting place.

    His heart sank once he noticed that everything looked familiar, even the fattened lords on the balconies sneering down at him. He had gone in a complete circle. For an expert tracker and navigator, he couldn't make heads or tails with a city as large and bustling as this. He scanned the streets for the poorest and most streetwise looking fellow there, which wasn't saying much, considering the kind of people that lived in the damn place. He settled on a bystander whose garments were still pretty fancy, but not as as much as those around him.

    The bystander almost tucked tail and ran when he saw Lazarus moving directly towards him, but failed to stand up before they were face to face. Just as he was about to beg for his life, Lazarus cut him off with a sharply addressed statement. "You there. I need to find the Turf and Feather."

    The man's brows furrowed as his expression turned from that of fear into haughty disgust. He resumed his relaxed posture and pointed at a pub just down the street. "Damn drunkard hooligan... It's right there! Can't you read?"

    Annoyed by his tone, Lazarus craned his head and looked the bystander in the eye, causing him to drop his snobbish act and scoot back. Without another word, Lazarus stepped away from the man and made his way to the pub.

    A small, split second lull came across the Turf and Feather's customers as the hollowed man entered. He wasted no time and paced quickly to the barkeep, poster in hand. Before the barkeep could say anything, Lazarus put the piece of paper on the countertop and spoke curtly. "I'm looking for..." His voiced trailed off as he looked down at the paper and cursed his near illiteracy. "R-- Ren-- Ro--" He let out a frustrated grunt and turned the paper to face the barkeep, pointing at the scribbled names near the bottom. "These two."
    Spoiler:  

    Currently on hiatus (possibly for good)

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    She practically leapt at the poor thing. From across the tavern, Andy came swooping down upon their first mystery man, Ronnie trailing sluggishly behind her. Her eyes were wide and full of enthusiasm, a overbearing grin threatening to practically overtake her face. She spoke with such hurried eagerness, it was quite hard to make out what she was actually saying in truth, though if you listened carefully, you could just about make it out.

    "YES, YES THAT'S US!! THAT'S US WE ARE THE OH MY GOODNESS YES!! YOU'RE HERE! FINALLY THANK GODS YOU-"

    And then Andy saw his face.

    Euphoric glee dampened and she almost seemed to somewhat visibly deflate. The wisdom of age was not usually a thing between the Aleida siblings, but on this one particular occasion, it rather worked in Rons favour. Somewhat more tactfully than his sister, Ronnie stepped forwards smartly, as if he were trying his best to appear professional about things, and he offered the man his hand,

    "You'll have to pardon my sister Ser. Sometimes she can get a little caught up in these things. But she's right though, I'm Ronnie and she's Andy."


    The last mosquito that bit me had to check into the Betty Ford clinic

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    The aura of magic pulsed out from Morganne’s palms touched the first few rows of people gathered around her then, like the beings looking on were conductors, spread even further past them growing into the thin of the crowd toward the back. The sunbeams that cascaded down upon the scene on the Zënë street corner were caught in the magic and sent auroras shimmering in every color between the people. Several children in the crowd cried with joy and set to dancing in the little ring around the Witch Morganne; the dust that was kicked up from their frivolity seemingly turned to gold dust, shimmering in motes through the air and added to the spectacle.

    Morganne’s own laugh bubbled up and her smile touched her eyes as she watched the children. She glanced back over her shoulder to look at her companion – Moriarty, who wasn’t paying attention, judging by his mouth full of alfalfa. She rolled her eyes and then wiggled her fingertips in a wave to continue the show. It continued on for several more minutes as children continued to play and then the crowd thinned and Morganne could feel the power wane.

    “Thank you ladies and gentlemen,” she raised her voice and moved her fingers again in an intricate little motion, dispersing the magic and returning the energies to whence she’d summoned them. “For your time and attention, a Witch could not ask for more.”

    Applause answered her and several of the children ran up to her and clutched her skirts, begging her to do it again. Morganne laughed and cradled their chins in her hands, still warm to the touch from the energies she’d channeled.

    “Oh, you sweet things, the energy has gone – we need to give them some time to restore themselves, understand? There’s a limit to all things, even magic,” she explained to them, but as the disappointment washed over their little faces, her eyes darted up to their parents.

    “However, I do have a little something that you could recreate it with at home,” the Witch told them and the children gasped. From the pocket of her skirt she produced several crystals, each appearing to hold the shimmering auroras within them. “Charge these in the sun for a day and it’ll give you just as long of a play time.”

    The children took the crystals as new treasures and their parents approached with payment for the crystals – one gold each. She graciously accepted the money and quickly pocketed it where the crystals had been. The last of the crowd she’d gathered dispersed and she picked up the little collection basin she’d set out, filled with coppers and a stray silver. Morganne’s eyes wandered over the flyer, discarded by some passerby and that had wound out now by her basin, which had brought her here in the first place. Sense told Morganne she should start heading over to the Turf and Feather, so she did.

    The Witch guided Moriarty and her wagon through Zënë, enjoying the sights around her on the bustling trading avenues as she went, until she found a place near the specified pub to leave the horse and wagon. She paid the stall fee and stroked Moriarty under the chin as she left, making him promise to behave himself with a stern little look, which he chuffed and at then buried his muzzle in the complimentary trough of hay.

    Around the corner laid the Turf and Feather and it didn’t take long to find herself within. She glanced around briefly but her attention fell on the hollowed man standing at the bar with two others. Interest piqued, Morganne approached and dealt him a polite smile, but it was one that couldn’t hide her interest.

    “Hello! Now, you might mind my saying, but,” Morganne brushed her red locks back off her shoulder as she cast her gaze and smile briefly and courteously to the two Duende standing with him, then focusing back on him. “You are a surprising sight to behold.”

    She tucked her thumb against the side of her palm and then slid her index finger down along her thumb and opened it to create a circle, which she lifted to her eye and she peered at him through. With this, Morganne could see the magic woven around the hollowed man and she barely contained her wince.

    “That, my dear, is… Well, a doozy…” Morganne commented, almost breathlessly. She pulled herself up onto a barstool and crossed one leg over the other, leaning toward him. “Though, I am up to something that may help your little…” She made a gesture at him with her fingers, “Issue.”

    Morganne bobbed her foot in the air and glanced briefly at the Duende pair, “Have you seen those flyers? For Ronnie and Andy and that mission for the Lake?”
    Last edited by rabbit; 04-17-2018 at 08:37 PM.

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    Before the baffled barkeep could utter a word, another voice pierced the usual bustle of the Turf and Feather. Even without looking, Lazarus felt his heart drop just a smidge. The sound of that loud, excited yelling that he could barely make out gave him a split second vision of what the adventure ahead would be like. He winced a little and spun around halfway to take a look at his would-be companions, and just like that, the lady's voice trailed off. There it is.

    He was oddly elated for a brief moment seeing that the two weren't humans, but rather Duendes. Not that that mattered much, but Lazarus always found himself somewhat more at ease around their folk. The taller one in in particular caught his eye. The gray-skinned figure was a stark contrast to the bright, vibrant tones that littered the city, and again, he felt another wave of slight ease wash over him. The man extended a hand and spoke in a polite manner, though visibly trying to cover up for his sister's rudeness.

    "You'll have to pardon my sister Ser. Sometimes she can get a little caught up in these things. But she's right though, I'm Ronnie and she's Andy."

    Lazarus looked down at the man's hand and looked at it briefly before looking back up. It was the first time in a long while he'd been asked for a handshake, and it put him off kilter. He sighed and gave a curt reply. "Well met. My name is Lazarus." Again, he looked down at Ronnie's hand and drew a silent breath. "I appreciate the gesture, but my hands aren't clean."

    Just then, the hollowed man felt another set of eyes on him. Confirming his suspicions was another lady pacing down the aisle. She looked at him intently, but something in him ticked and felt that it was more a look of curiosity or pity than anything else. Their eyes met and locked as Lazarus attempted to read her intentions. The lady shot him a polite smile, but his face remained wooden. He broke eye contact and turned back to the two duendes as soon as she approached the bar.

    "Hello! Now, you might mind my saying, but,"

    Lazarus remained unmoved but rolled his metaphorical eyes.

    "You are a surprising sight to behold."

    Unsurprising. Not as mean-spirited a comment as the usual, but still, unsurprising. The hollowed man glanced at her once more and felt a slight chill as she peered at him through her fingers and winced. It felt eerie, as if she was trying to read him.

    "That, my dear, is… Well, a doozy… Though, I am up to something that may help your little… Issue."

    There it was. That line struck a chord in him. Though most avoided him entirely, many of those that didn't would try to use his condition as some sort of leverage to sell him some manner of "new" and "sure to work" medicine or magical encantation. Quacks, the lot of them. Those that did indeed want to help failed to do so anyway. Wastes of time, both on his part and theirs. That one line from the lady swept away his fleeting sense of ease. He took a sharp, drawn out breath, his expression unchanging as he maintained eye contact, and simply said: "Doubt it." His reply was curt but clear, and came off as somewhat rude, but his voice, though monotone, gave off a twinge of a tiredness of sorts.
    Spoiler:  

    Currently on hiatus (possibly for good)

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    Andy sniggered audibly from behind her elder brother.

    Ronnie blinked, then, rather slowly, simply lifted his hand up and away in a single retraction.

    He was about to respond to their possible new accomplice, yet he was rather rudely interrupted. That seemed to be a reoccurring theme these days. Neither Ronnie or his sister held any magical affiliation or gifts, yet he'd grown to know their sort from mere sight these days. The witch had sauntered into the place with the usual swagger and confidence a woman of her kind possessed. Ronnies frown only grew.

    Andy, on the other hand, had seemingly recomposed herself from he earlier minor rudeness, and she seemed eager to make amends. She grinned gayly at both Lazurus and Morganne when she approached their little group. First impressions did count for a lot you see.

    “Have you seen those flyers? For Ronnie and Andy and that mission for the Lake?”

    Ronnie got there before Andy could,

    "Nah, never heard of them."

    Ronnie didn't say much after that. Most likely because he was trying to get his breath back after being quite thoroughly winded by a rather precise jab to the stomach. Andy beamed at Morganne, toothy grin practically radiating enthusiasm, "YES!! That's us! Me and him I mean. I'm Andy, and he's Ronnie... unfortunately..."


    The last mosquito that bit me had to check into the Betty Ford clinic

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    “Doubt it.”

    Morganne leaned away from the hollowed man with a disappointed little click of her tongue. She held his gaze – or at least, his apparent one, had he any eyes in those sockets – and placed her elbow on the bar.

    “Nah, never heard of them.”

    The Witch’s gaze shifted over to the taller, drab Duende who had spoken, then just as quickly to the shorter with the vibrant hair who had struck him via interjection; Morganne matched Andy’s toothy grin, finding it rather intoxicating.

    “My, then fortune truly has brought us together. I was just going to suggest to your friend here that he seek out the Lake of Gold as well, as it may help with his ongoing disfigurement,” she addressed Andy, motioning to the hollowed man. “However, he seems to have come to that conclusion himself. Word of your expedition has spread, then? How large is the party?”

    The more people, Morganne figured, the better chance they had of discovering it. And the sooner the better, for her father’s sake. The redhead’s eyes drifted slightly to Ronnie, pondering on why he’d lied.

    “Or perhaps you’re no longer looking for those to join you,” a slight tone of disappointment touched her voice, but her confident posture didn’t change, and her eyebrow arched curiously.
    Last edited by rabbit; 04-17-2018 at 08:37 PM.

    ideas? . Hogwarts . WTRT: Side Roads
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    Andy was practically bouncing. She stepped forwards towards the witch eagerly,

    "So far, only you two, but we're hoping for at least a dozen before setting off."

    Suddenly she deflated a little. Andy looked upon them both. Just the two of them. Nobody else. Ronnie of course noticed too. He nudged her gently on the shoulder, although she didn't turn to look at him. He sighed before speaking himself.

    "There's still time for more to show, I'm sure this isn't all of us quite yet,"


    The last mosquito that bit me had to check into the Betty Ford clinic

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    At the mention of the lake, Lazarus shifted uneasily on his seat. It was a bittersweet feeling having one's first impressions be wrong. On one hand, he secretly prides himself on having very reliable instincts, so the remark left a pinprick on his ego. On the other hand, at least he felt that the witch lady could actually be willing to help him. Either way, he shook his head at Morganne's retort. She got him good, no doubt. Still, he remained wary. Though yes, he did embark on this damned quest for the fabled lake, he still had within him a strong doubt about its existence.

    He turned his head slightly towards her as if to say something, but decided not to go through with it. What was supposed to be a quick apology instead became a split second glare and a quiet sigh. 'There'd be plenty of chances to set things right in the future anyway,' Lazarus thought to himself.

    He craned his head around to look at the two Duende siblings. The short one was visibly glum, and the tall one silently concerned. He looked on for a bit, but showed no emotion, and instead turned his eyes back to the wooden patterns on the wall behind the bar. "Shouldn't be so down, Andy. Andy, weren't it? Yeah. Your friend's right." Lazarus' voice was coarse and somewhat raspy, but his monotonous statement held a hint of sincerity. "We've literally just got here, haven't we?"

    The hollowed man paused once more before rasping a knuckle against the countertop and raising his gaze vaguely towards the barkeep's general direction. "Ale. Cheapest one you got. I have money."
    Spoiler:  

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  10. #10
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    Morganne's brow furrowed gently as she watched Andy shift moods and she gave her a reassuring little smile, nodding as Ronnie spoke. She barely noticed the hollowed man's look and sigh, but situated next to him at the bar, it would have been hard to miss it all together.

    "Quite right, besides, this seems like a good place to pass the time and discuss the journey - others will come," the witch nodded.

    Andy, Ronnie, and...

    "I didn't introduce myself," she announced aloud in a scolding tone. Her confident smile quickly followed, resonating in her words, "I'm Morganne, the witch. I don't believe I caught your name?"

    She gave a pointed, inquiring little look to the hollowed man as the barkeep set a mug of ale down in front of him. Morganne passed payment and a large order of food and two growlers of a decently priced mead to the barkeep, who looked a little surprised but complied and went to fill the order.

    "Shall we grab a table?" She slipped an arm through the crook of Andy's elbow.
    Last edited by rabbit; 04-17-2018 at 08:36 PM.

    ideas? . Hogwarts . WTRT: Side Roads
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