Heroica RPG - Heroica Hall

[Kintobor]

"No, of course not, what would make you think that?"

He's onto me.

Karie gets up and heads for the washroom, yawning.

"Yeah, there should be a few bottles in there, as well as a few bottles of wine and some juice. If you feel like mixing, feel free."

Karie closes the washroom door, and the sound of a lock clicking into place echoes through the room.

[Endgame]

Why would she suddenly get defensive over a joke unless...

...Oh. OH.

"Careful you don't shatter your other hand there, old timer!" Syntax quips.

I sigh and open up a bottle of hard lemonade, sitting down. I take a long sip - I was going to need it.

The next conversation we were having probably wasn't going to be pleasant. Typical.

[Flipz]

Look, Broth-Arthur. I'm not talking about the Wolfgang, or even the Watch. They have their own needs and wants and motives. I'm talking about... I don't know, some sort of second group entirely.

I apologize. First time we've met since Wren and we're talking politics. How've you been, Arthur? You still haven't answered my question about Alexis.

"She...we...aren't..." Arthur looks away awkwardly, but, deciding it would be best to get it out of the way, he steels himself before looking back to Dyric, eyes downcast. "I left her. When I went to turn myself in to the Watch. I thought I was leaving Heroica--leaving life itself. I wanted to die--and I didn't want to put her through that. I didn't want to argue with her over it, didn't want her last memory of me to be one of quarrel. So I just...left. By the time I came back, by the time someone talked some sense into me, she'd become a Harlot and didn't want anything to do with me." He lets his head fall even lower than it already had been, as if trying to impale himself with his own chin. "She's been gone...and I haven't fared any better since. I reckon you've got better luck with that die of yours than I'll ever have with women."

[Kintobor]

Karie returns from the washroom and makes her way to the wardrobe, flinging it open and looking for her sleepwear.

"So, how's the lemonade? I haven't tried any of it yet and was saving it for a rainy day, so to speak."

[The Legonater]

"She...we...aren't..." Arthur looks away awkwardly, but, deciding it would be best to get it out of the way, he steels himself before looking back to Dyric, eyes downcast. "I left her. When I went to turn myself in to the Watch. I thought I was leaving Heroica--leaving life itself. I wanted to die--and I didn't want to put her through that. I didn't want to argue with her over it, didn't want her last memory of me to be one of quarrel. So I just...left. By the time I came back, by the time someone talked some sense into me, she'd become a Harlot and didn't want anything to do with me." He lets his head fall even lower than it already had been, as if trying to impale himself with his own chin. "She's been gone...and I haven't fared any better since. I reckon you've got better luck with that die of yours than I'll ever have with women."

I blink, shocked. Have you tried talking to her? She was able to stick with you through that nonsense during the Wren fight, this seems minor in comparison. ...Doesn't it?

[Endgame]

Karie returns from the washroom and makes her way to the wardrobe, flinging it open and looking for her sleepwear.

"So, how's the lemonade? I haven't tried any of it yet and was saving it for a rainy day, so to speak."

"Good drinks, yeah."

I sigh, and begin.

"Karie... He is a vigilante crimelord, isn't he." I state in a voice calm int tone but firm in demanor. It was hardly a question at that point - getting that defensive over a joke was a dead giveaway. Now, it was just a question of whether or not it was Ulric...

[Kintobor]

Karie grips the door handle.

"He's not a... okay, he was a vigilante, and he was a leader, but crimelord isn't the proper word. He's aligned with the Watch now. He's doing good for the city. Ulric is just in it for his own means. He used my sister. Masson wouldn't do that to me. He cares about me, and I can prove it."

Karie moves over to Sorrow and places the Diary entry on the table for him to read, crossing her arms afterwards with a worried look on her face.

[Tanma]

IC: De'kra clicked with concern, "I...I not sure what to say. But Dyric is right. If two of you faced Wren together, everything else seem small, except Baba. But at risk of making things worse, maybe you should take time to reflect. I not really understand this kind of relationship, if someone can't see beyond your flaws, you should not be and them. If they accept you and your flaws, then it seem more stable. Does any of that make sense? If it make things worse, ignore it."

[Endgame]

I can over the diary entry, holding it under candlelight, my eyes lock onto the second to last line, reading it carefully, word for word - despite the fact the meaning was quite obvious.

"...Does he treat you well, Karie? That's the bottom line. If he truly is allied with the law, and does care for you, best of luck to you both."

My expression grows grim.

"But my opinion is worth a grain of salt, anyway, considering the fact that... Well, you likely hate me."

Edited July 18, 2013 by Endgame

[Kintobor]

I can over the diary entry, holding it under candlelight, my eyes lock onto the second to last line, reading it carefully, word for word - despite the fact the meaning was quite obvious.

"...Does he treat you well, Karie? That's the bottom line. If he truly is allied with the law, and does care for you, best of luck to you both."

My expression grows grim.

"But my opinion is worth a grain of salt, anyway, considering the fact that... Well, you likely hate me."

"We've only been dating for... what a day, two maybe? He treats me well, yes. If he didn't I wouldn't be with him."

Karie sits down and opens up a bottle of lemonade.

"Look, I'm... oh what's the word I'm looking for? Irrational. I believe others take me as being irrational. Perhaps threatening to kill you was a little much, and I am still angry... but Arthur was right. Killing you wouldn't have gotten me anywhere. If anything I'm confused you decided to follow me back to my place. I guess things were different four hundred years ago."

Karie put her bottle to her lips, but put it back down before drinking out of it.

[Flipz]

OOC: Actually, it's closer to a week--I posted in the Library that Arthur hasn't slept since the night on the Quest, and it's been at least a Week since then, which is why the two Watchmen are worried about him.

I blink, shocked. Have you tried talking to her? She was able to stick with you through that nonsense during the Wren fight, this seems minor in comparison. ...Doesn't it?

"She told me she was done with men, and turned her back on me before I could say anything else. Seems pretty final to me."

"Still, it could have been worse. She could have turned into a murderous psychopath like the woman I was with before her...the one who got me kicked out of my homeland by framing me for murder."

IC: De'kra clicked with concern, "I...I not sure what to say. But Dyric is right. If two of you faced Wren together, everything else seem small, except Baba. But at risk of making things worse, maybe you should take time to reflect. I not really understand this kind of relationship, if someone can't see beyond your flaws, you should not be and them. If they accept you and your flaws, then it seem more stable. Does any of that make sense? If it make things worse, ignore it."

"That's not really the problem--hell, the fact that she accepted me is part of why I loved her so much. But De'kra, romantic relationships are...well, fragile. It's like a wall of stones--it's enormously strong against outside aggressors, but if someone on the inside screws up and knocks one free, the whole thing will fall. And sometimes...sometimes the pieces just don't fit together anymore. Or else they don't want to." He sighs.

"I don't know. Amidst all this...relationships, the Watch, Quests, saving the world, everything...sometimes everything's right. And then all of a sudden, something shifts, and it feels like there's just...nothing. Like there's no place for me anymore. And that the world wouldn't be any worse off if I weren't in it. I feel...unnecessary. Like an extra piece in a cosmic game, only existing 'just in case' some specific need arises, but knowing that it never will. Like...like I have no future. No Destiny." He looks away in shame, particularly from De'kra, who he knew held that virtue particularly dear. "On that Quest...I was useless. Unneeded. They could have accomplished everything that happened if I hadn't been there, and done it better. There was nothing I contributed that couldn't have been done better by another Hero. And I hated that feeling. It was like instead of earning my penance, I was just making it worse." He begins pulling out his gear and throwing it on the table. "My staves didn't help anyone, THESE scraps of uselessness accomplished nothing of note, and this stupid thing--" Arthur throws Sir Roderick's sword on the table as if it burned him. A moment's pause for dramatic effect, and he continued, gesticulating wildly with his Unlucky Horseshoe. "There are people in this Hall who would kill for things like these. Who could forge empires and conquer armies with them. And here I am, sitting around with them, useless." He tosses the Horseshoe on the table, atop everything else, and sits back, fuming. "Maybe all those Heroes are right about Mages like me. We're stupid, insane, and worthless." He drops his face into his hands, overcome.

[Endgame]

I snort.

"Humans are irrational. It's in our nature - we're ticking, illogical timebombs, many of us close to going off at any moment. Desn't mean we can't accomplish good in our lives, however. I've seen entire revoltuions occur. The world advanced, but I noticed something. Our tools grow more useful, our pool of knowledge expands. And yet? Humanity odesn't change. Just the things we utilize. We just keep marching on, and there's something admirable about that.

And your question of why I'm here: I prefer building bridges to burning them. That's it, really.

[CorneliusMurdock]

"Yes,the world is big,for Me it seems that It's to big for Me to go where I want."

"Then again,thats probably a good thing."

If there is somewhere dwarf want to go, why can't dwarf go there? What is holding Duvors back?

Cronk wishes Cronk knew where Cronk wanted to go. Some beings are meant to wander, Cronk thinks. Even now, if Cronk were completely free to go where Cronk might long to be, Cronk is not sure Cronk would enjoy being there. Beings change, places change. Perhaps memories are all a being may rely on.

[The Legonater]

And perhaps so are you.

Arthur, this is what I'm hearing. You've faced the armies of the Brobric Elves. You've battled in the great Dastan Empire. You have went up against the likes of Wren, and are prepared to go up against Baba. You you can't even talk to her. If you are right and the houses are at the brink of war, if Baba is close to destroying everything, then what is stopping you? You claim it is final. Nothing is final until you give up. You've been exiled from your homeland? So have I. You've faced despair? I know all of that and more. What makes us different right now Arthur is that you've hit the wall and fallen down flat, where as I took it as an opportunity. You want to show Alexis you're worth? Then get up. Stand up strong and proud - prouder than before. Take these weapons of yours and sharpen them. Take your skills and refine them. Become tougher than Docken. Stronger than Guts. Wiser than Nerwen. Be the man you've set yourself to be, but get up! Or you'll be no better than those newcomers.

[LordoftheNoobs]

"Couldn't have said it better meself" Grimwald says, walking towards the group. "Oh, sorry fer interuptin', but I quested with Mr. Regulus at the Foundation Day... thingy. And I very much agree with what, uh... Dyric, was it? ...was saying, Arthur has great potential indeed."

[swils]

In his usual fashion, Thormanil enters the Hall long after his companions have arrived. Walking by a group of heroes, he almost didn't notice the little cleric among them. Not wanting to bowl the man over, he instead tousles the old gnome's hair, giving Grimwald a grin as he passed. Approaching his usual roost, Thormanil was surprised to find an envelope sealed with the Shadeaux crest stamped in wax. He sits down to open it and reads the enclosed letter, murmuring a bit to himself as he goes:

"...appreciate your loyalty... ... ... little present... ... Copper Fox ..."

Still talking to himself, he pulls out Ammit and begins to polish it up, hoping to get a decent price for it at the market.

"Wonder what sort of present the Shadeaux have for me. Already paid me.. wonder if Sorrow or Grim or any of 'em got a letter. And why've I gotta go see the Fox? I better not be runnin' another errand for 'em so soon.."

He continues cleaning his weapons and trying to imagine what might await him at the Training Room.

[Chromeknight]

"She's allied herself with the Wolfgang. And she's in the head of many of the leaders of this city already. I'm afraid that some things once done can't be undone. I don't know how much damage she did to our leaders, but it may be permanent. Wasn't your friend Guts talking of a change in power? It may be that there aren't that many other options, is the seeds of discord remain sown. I told him it would only come in a time of discord, but it looks as if it's upon us."

"She has influence over even me," the angel whimpers to Nerwen.

Nerwen speaks quietly to the diminutive guardian.

Is that because she binds your will or strikes at the connection between you and your God? The answer to that might help us defend ourselves.

Speaking up a little louder

My friend Guts says many things. Not everything that he says reflects what he truly thinks. But any rogue, if they've survived enough to grow old can tell you which way the crowd is running.

I heard tell there was an Ithil'quessir, a moon-elf there. And that he was killed. That is, to me, the most troubling news.

Leaning back a little, Nerwen says in a brighter tone

By the looks of the questboard there is trouble in R'kilf, we may end up questing together finally.

[Kintobor]

If only those bridges would last...

Karie took another drink from her bottle of hard lemonade before continuing the conversation.

"So where do you live?"

[Duvors]

If there is somewhere dwarf want to go, why can't dwarf go there? What is holding Duvors back?

Cronk wishes Cronk knew where Cronk wanted to go. Some beings are meant to wander, Cronk thinks. Even now, if Cronk were completely free to go where Cronk might long to be, Cronk is not sure Cronk would enjoy being there. Beings change, places change. Perhaps memories are all a being may rely on.

"Duvors? I think you need your hearing checked,I just told you my name was Throlar Wineghilm!"

"As for going where I want, I am,as I said before,an ambassador and have to go where I'm told."

[CorneliusMurdock]

Cronk apologizes. Hall is abnormally loud today and Cronk must have misheard.

Duty is an honorable cage to imprison oneself. Does Throlar enjoy being ambassador?

[Flipz]

And perhaps so are you.

Arthur, this is what I'm hearing. You've faced the armies of the Brobric Elves. You've battled in the great Dastan Empire. You have went up against the likes of Wren, and are prepared to go up against Baba. You you can't even talk to her. If you are right and the houses are at the brink of war, if Baba is close to destroying everything, then what is stopping you? You claim it is final. Nothing is final until you give up. You've been exiled from your homeland? So have I. You've faced despair? I know all of that and more. What makes us different right now Arthur is that you've hit the wall and fallen down flat, where as I took it as an opportunity. You want to show Alexis you're worth? Then get up. Stand up strong and proud - prouder than before. Take these weapons of yours and sharpen them. Take your skills and refine them. Become tougher than Docken. Stronger than Guts. Wiser than Nerwen. Be the man you've set yourself to be, but get up! Or you'll be no better than those newcomers.

"Couldn't have said it better meself" Grimwald says, walking towards the group. "Oh, sorry fer interuptin', but I quested with Mr. Regulus at the Foundation Day... thingy. And I very much agree with what, uh... Dyric, was it? ...was saying, Arthur has great potential indeed."

Arthur isn't quite sure what to say. 'Wiser than Nerwen?' Is she back in the Hall? I'd best speak to her at some point, then. He stands up. "Well, thanks for the kind words, anyway--and I would say the same of you, Master Grimwald--but I don't think this is the sort of thing I'm going to solve with reason. At this point...I just need some time to think." He slowly walks away from the trio, leaving all of them--himself included--with a lot to think about.

In his usual fashion, Thormanil enters the Hall long after his companions have arrived. Walking by a group of heroes, he almost didn't notice the little cleric among them. Not wanting to bowl the man over, he instead tousles the old gnome's hair, giving Grimwald a grin as he passed. Approaching his usual roost, Thormanil was surprised to find an envelope sealed with the Shadeaux crest stamped in wax. He sits down to open it and reads the enclosed letter, murmuring a bit to himself as he goes:

"...appreciate your loyalty... ... ... little present... ... Copper Fox ..."

Still talking to himself, he pulls out Ammit and begins to polish it up, hoping to get a decent price for it at the market.

"Wonder what sort of present the Shadeaux have for me. Already paid me.. wonder if Sorrow or Grim or any of 'em got a letter. And why've I gotta go see the Fox? I better not be runnin' another errand for 'em so soon.."

He continues cleaning his weapons and trying to imagine what might await him at the Training Room.

As he passes by Thormanil, he notices the Raider polishing a strange blade that thrums with an Etherial glow. "Master Nihai...good to see you again. A shame our plans for the Fields never worked out." He eyes the unusual weapon with a wary eye. "Where did you get that weapon, may I ask? It is...unusual, to say the least."

Edited July 18, 2013 by Flipz

[The Legonater]

Slightly uncomfortable in the presence of the two strangers, Dyric nods his farewell. He smiles to himself, seeing an old friend sitting alone, and walks to him.

Haldor, old pal. How've you been?

[Scorpiox]

Slightly uncomfortable in the presence of the two strangers, Dyric nods his farewell. He smiles to himself, seeing an old friend sitting alone, and walks to him.

Haldor, old pal. How've you been?

Hearing his name called, Haldor raises his head to look at the man standing nearby sleepily.

"Yeah?" The nord shakes his head clear of drowsiness. "Ah, Dyric, it's you. We haven't met in... far too long at least. How have you been keeping, my old friend." He waves the assassin towards a nearby chair, chuckling to himself. "Please, sit down. Damn sure I'm glad to see you again. Now tell me, what adventures have you got yourself on since we last met?"

[The Legonater]

Not much since Wren. During the Foundation Day Ball, Cronk, Xander, Nerwen and I were going up and down a hotel settling debts and fares. Ran into another dragon, mind you, and met a young woman. Besides that, nothing. How about you?

[Darth Nihilus]

Several weeks ago:

Dak finally wandered back into the hall after what had seemed like an eternity, despite the fact that he had made rather good time both on the way to his grandparents' village and on the way back. Feeling rather numb, he walked into the reassuringly familiar surroundings of the Hall and practically fell backwards against the nearest wall, barely registering the other Heroes as he did. One did stand out - a man that he had not spoken to since he had left the Hall the first time.. one of the few, too few, people that Dak actually counted as a friend, or at least as a worthy companion in battle.

"Guts..." Dak formed the word silently, feeling altogether too weak to speak. His eyes remained half-closed as he watched Guts, who appeared to be preparing for battle. As he did, his mind managed to slip to the events of the past week, most notably the day he had arrived at the farmhous that had been his home for quite some time..

He had ridden in, cloaked in black with his weapons on his belt, despite the fact that he was quite sure there was no danger here. His grandmother had looked up to greet him, although she seemed ready to turn away when she saw his garb.

"So, you've done it then," she stated, with an edge of sorrow in her voice. "You've followed in your parent's footsteps."

"Indeed I have, although, as I see it, I had little choice."

"He died today, Dak. Hours ago."

Sorrow coursed through Dak once again. His grandfather, who had been both mentor and protector to him for so many years, had passed from this life, mere hours before Dak arrived. How could he have let this happen? How could Dak have become so unsure of his purpose that he would let one of the few people he ever truly cared for in his life die without him? Dak had known it was coming, ever since he had recieved the letter several days ago, back at the Hall. He had left nearly at once, but had stayed for nearly an hour longer to speak to a group of other Heroes. And now, his grandfather was gone. Dak hoped, bitterly, that the gods were happy with the creation of their tool. He had known from day one, his parent's death, that this was part of some larger plot by the celestial beings. He was, in some way, significant to the gods, and they were going to make sure he went through enough hardship to turn him into a useful tool. This was merely the latest of their mad schemes to make him controllable. He shrugged off his grandmother's arm as she attempted to comfort him; he was beyond the point of grief now. No, now he was fueled by rage, and despite that being what he knew the gods wanted of him, he was determined that he would be no pawn of theirs, now or ever. He turned away and headed back for his horse, considering several ways to stop the celestial plans for him. Killing himself would probably bring an end to the torment, but that could, quite possibly, be the celestial "plan" for him - he could be the lynchpin in a complex social web that would collapse if he died. He didn't know exactly how his death could cause something important, but the possibility was still there. Several other possibilities popped out at him - he could attempt to kill the gods, but that would be a mission he would never come back from, and killing a god was likely impossible. For the moment, the best ideas Dak seemed to have for action was to, quite simply, do nothing - continue with his life as a Hero, and attempt to undermine the gods in any way he could while doing it. Admittedly, it did not seem like a very effective course of action, but it was the most viable he could think of at the time.

"Dak!Wait!" he heard his grandmother shout, and he turned to face her. "There's something you should see," she said simply, and turned back towards the farmhouse. Dak turned reluctantly from the horse and followed her, heading back into what was, by all measures, his childhood home.

--

The memories heading to a point that was far too painful, Dak snaps himself back to the present. Attempting to push further memories from his mind, Dak gets up wearily and walks out of the Hall, hoping to find somewhere safe to stay until more permanent lodging for him could be found.

Now, Dak was in much more comfortable lodging outside the city, but the pain still remained. He had shrugged it off somewhat for the past few weeks, but only by avoiding the Hall and those that stayed in it. The letter his grandmother had given him still stayed in a pocket on the dark cloak he had taken to wearing, but he had read it so many times now he hardly ever looked at it anymore. He had, in fact, memorized it, and it said this:

My dearest grandson, Dak,

I know that you and I did not see eye-to-eye all the time, and not a minute of the short time I have left is spent without regretting that. However, as I lay here, dying, I find that things are much clearer to me, and that secrets I held so dearly all my life are not nearly so important now. So, in this space, I will tell as much as I am able to, if only to set my weary heart to peace.

First off, my dear boy, you are mistaken about many things about your parentage, and in fact, I know very little myself. All I know, Dak, is that I have lied to you all your life about it. There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will be blunt. You, Dak, are not a Shadeaux, nor are you a half-elf, or a human, or even a Mopag. To be quite truthful with you, I don't quite know what you are. You were a foundling, my boy. Your parents, despite my warnings, took you, a baby found in the forest, into their family of deception and evil, and that eventually led to their unhappy demises. I can't tell you much more, my boy, but I hope you can find the truth for yourself. I want you to know this, though; you being a foundling makes you no less my grandson, and I still love you as I did your father, as a son. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, my boy.

The letter was not signed. Dak angrily wiped an unbidden tear from his eyes as he stormed into the hall, his eyes filled with grief and pure rage, beginning to cloud over with red for the first time in some time. Then, he saw the other Heroes, staring at him, and the anger faded again. He seemed to shrink as his shoulders slumped and, suddenly, he felt his legs crumpling beneath him. He leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to hold himself up, then just gave in and fell to his knees on the ground, a single tear trickling down his face and hitting the floor.

OoC: Sorry about quoting that, but it was quite some time ago now, and this part of Dak's character growth would seem incomplete without it.