Post by Gyre on Feb 10, 2009 14:25:46 GMT -5
OOC: I figured this was a pretty safe place to put this thread. We can geta little more creative here I think... Magic is fine, more viriety of creatures to play.. etc.
BIC:
The moon that rose over the city’s white, stone spires and towers was round and yellow. It bathed all of the streets in Loais in a rich, golden light. It would have been a peaceful quiet night, where farmers stayed out in their fields all night long and harvested the last of their crops by the brilliant moonlight, but that was not the case tonight.
Drums could be heard throbbing in the Main Square; the heart of the city. If one entered the city gate, and wondered the winding, cobblestone streets, they would find themselves in the middle of a midnight precession. The King of Loais has died that day, and now, the citizens were carrying him to his tomb. Thousands of beasts of various races, sizes, and colors, formed a single trundling mass in the darkness. Their faces were touched by the haloed light. They carried the late King, draped in flowing white linen. His profile was eerie, and ghost-like.
When they came to the tomb in the Main Square, the drumming stopped. The fragrant smoke rose in tendrils from the small, brass burner that the tall, lean, red fox swung. The fox, Scarlath, stepped onto the dais, and rose head and shoulders above his fellow Loaithians.
He opened his arms wide lifted his nose towards the open sky, and heavy, golden moon. The words he spoke were not in any language that the beasts before him now understood; it had been lost hundreds of years ago, only used for ceremonies such as this. Even Scarlath himself had only the vaguest knowledge of their meaning; however, he learned them when he was in training as the Cleric of Loais. When the prayer was done, he silently beckoned for the beasts to bring the King’s body up, and lay him on the cold, white slab. Six creatures bore him to the top of the dais, and lay him like a sleeping pup on the tomb. The body lay as still, and heavy as clay. Another nod from Scarlath sent an otter and a badger easily heaving the stone slab into the tomb. Once in place, a troop of hares shoved the last piece into place, sealing the tomb forever. The last beasts to come up were a dozen moles, who would work for the rest of the night to completely seal the tomb with their expert masonry.
Regardless of the burial, it was not a night to grieve. All of the citizens knew what happened next, and the city slowly began buzzing. As Scarlath stepped down from the dais, he spoke to the city’s creatures for the first time since the King’s death.
“The Five Trails with start tomorrow night when the moon is full,” he said loudly, and clearly, “All of the beasts that believe they are worthy of leading our great city, prepare yourselves.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the night wore on, the babes and the older beasts wondered back to their homes and slept, but all of the young creatures that thought, maybe even for a second, that they might compete in the Five Trails, stayed out and talked amongst themselves all night long. The tavern all were full of deep discussions, groups of friends gathered and talked on street corners.
In the North end of the city, The Jay’s Feather had always been the preferred place of leisure for Jackson and his childhood friends. While they all were grown now, they were still young, lively, and felt invincible. Jackson was a tall, rugged otter who had grown up on a farm outside the city. He had brought goods into the market every week since he was old and strong enough to carry a sack of potatoes alongside his father. He now sat amongst his good friends, staring deeply into a tankard of ale, wondering if he was going mad…
Simon, a hare and his closest friend, nudged him with an elbow.
“Jack, is there a fly in your drink? Buck up, I’m telling you that you should do this. Don’t you trust me?” Jackson looked up at the hare with a vague smile on his whiskered face.
“I do,” he said, “but this is a big decision. I’d have to train hard… and, what if I get hurt, or worse..” Jackson shook his head, “I can’t. My parents need me to work on the farm… My father’s older, I can’t risk my health for nothing.”
“Nothing?!” Simon exclaimed, “It is for something! Jack, you could be King! Then you’re folks could come live in the castle and retire. Haha,”
“Don’t even pretend I can win,” Jackson muttered, turning away, “you know there will be plenty of better beasts out there ready to beat me to every Trail…” The young otter looked around eth tavern where every table was filled with beasts gathering and having the same discussion. The only difference between him , and them, was that they were already warriors, shamans, noble-beasts, leaders, or scholars… Jackson was proud of what he was, but he had a nagging sense that however proud he was, it wouldn’t put him in the same league as the creatures around him…
OOC:
So, I was thinking, you can just pick a character in the tavern... Wheather a stranger, or one of Jackson's friends that I left undescribed. The plot is pretty straight forward, so I think we can just take it where it wants to go. =)
BIC:
The moon that rose over the city’s white, stone spires and towers was round and yellow. It bathed all of the streets in Loais in a rich, golden light. It would have been a peaceful quiet night, where farmers stayed out in their fields all night long and harvested the last of their crops by the brilliant moonlight, but that was not the case tonight.
Drums could be heard throbbing in the Main Square; the heart of the city. If one entered the city gate, and wondered the winding, cobblestone streets, they would find themselves in the middle of a midnight precession. The King of Loais has died that day, and now, the citizens were carrying him to his tomb. Thousands of beasts of various races, sizes, and colors, formed a single trundling mass in the darkness. Their faces were touched by the haloed light. They carried the late King, draped in flowing white linen. His profile was eerie, and ghost-like.
When they came to the tomb in the Main Square, the drumming stopped. The fragrant smoke rose in tendrils from the small, brass burner that the tall, lean, red fox swung. The fox, Scarlath, stepped onto the dais, and rose head and shoulders above his fellow Loaithians.
He opened his arms wide lifted his nose towards the open sky, and heavy, golden moon. The words he spoke were not in any language that the beasts before him now understood; it had been lost hundreds of years ago, only used for ceremonies such as this. Even Scarlath himself had only the vaguest knowledge of their meaning; however, he learned them when he was in training as the Cleric of Loais. When the prayer was done, he silently beckoned for the beasts to bring the King’s body up, and lay him on the cold, white slab. Six creatures bore him to the top of the dais, and lay him like a sleeping pup on the tomb. The body lay as still, and heavy as clay. Another nod from Scarlath sent an otter and a badger easily heaving the stone slab into the tomb. Once in place, a troop of hares shoved the last piece into place, sealing the tomb forever. The last beasts to come up were a dozen moles, who would work for the rest of the night to completely seal the tomb with their expert masonry.
Regardless of the burial, it was not a night to grieve. All of the citizens knew what happened next, and the city slowly began buzzing. As Scarlath stepped down from the dais, he spoke to the city’s creatures for the first time since the King’s death.
“The Five Trails with start tomorrow night when the moon is full,” he said loudly, and clearly, “All of the beasts that believe they are worthy of leading our great city, prepare yourselves.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the night wore on, the babes and the older beasts wondered back to their homes and slept, but all of the young creatures that thought, maybe even for a second, that they might compete in the Five Trails, stayed out and talked amongst themselves all night long. The tavern all were full of deep discussions, groups of friends gathered and talked on street corners.
In the North end of the city, The Jay’s Feather had always been the preferred place of leisure for Jackson and his childhood friends. While they all were grown now, they were still young, lively, and felt invincible. Jackson was a tall, rugged otter who had grown up on a farm outside the city. He had brought goods into the market every week since he was old and strong enough to carry a sack of potatoes alongside his father. He now sat amongst his good friends, staring deeply into a tankard of ale, wondering if he was going mad…
Simon, a hare and his closest friend, nudged him with an elbow.
“Jack, is there a fly in your drink? Buck up, I’m telling you that you should do this. Don’t you trust me?” Jackson looked up at the hare with a vague smile on his whiskered face.
“I do,” he said, “but this is a big decision. I’d have to train hard… and, what if I get hurt, or worse..” Jackson shook his head, “I can’t. My parents need me to work on the farm… My father’s older, I can’t risk my health for nothing.”
“Nothing?!” Simon exclaimed, “It is for something! Jack, you could be King! Then you’re folks could come live in the castle and retire. Haha,”
“Don’t even pretend I can win,” Jackson muttered, turning away, “you know there will be plenty of better beasts out there ready to beat me to every Trail…” The young otter looked around eth tavern where every table was filled with beasts gathering and having the same discussion. The only difference between him , and them, was that they were already warriors, shamans, noble-beasts, leaders, or scholars… Jackson was proud of what he was, but he had a nagging sense that however proud he was, it wouldn’t put him in the same league as the creatures around him…
OOC:
So, I was thinking, you can just pick a character in the tavern... Wheather a stranger, or one of Jackson's friends that I left undescribed. The plot is pretty straight forward, so I think we can just take it where it wants to go. =)