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 Posted: Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:02 am
Setting:
The Forever Plains
This barren wasteland was once home to one of the greatest wars Arret has ever seen. Two of the mightiest kingdoms once clashed on this great plain with both technology and magic. Archmages once had used spells that would change the landscape out here forever, littering it with massive craters and destroying what little natural life there had been out here. Giant steam powered machines clashed, ripping each other apart for the glory of there empire. Now, the forever plains stands as a vast graveyard of parts and scrap metal.
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Posted: Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:10 am
Voltre continued to hike along the vast wasteland that was the forever plains. His body had healed up from the beating it had taken back in Avos, but now a new problem struck him: dehydration. The sun beat down on this place hot enough to cook an egg on a flat rock in under thirty seconds. If it wasn't for Voltre's cloak, he should have suffered a massive sun stroke by now. Still the young man was running out of water and needed to find some more badly. His food rations were also getting low.
"It shouldn't take too long to find that tribe," He had said to Nyx before he had left. The young man had not realized how large the Forever Plains really were or how great the nomads could cover their tracks. Not once had Voltre seen a sigh of life out in the distance this entire week he had been out here. The young man let out another thirsty sigh and continued his journey.
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Posted: Fri Sep 04, 2009 9:43 am
It had been days since Voltre had run out of both food and water. His body was being wracked by heat and sand. He had no idea as to where he was or where he was going anymore and had lost any and all traces of the nomads. The sun beat down on the young man relentlessly.
Voltre walked up the side of a small crater, one that had most likely been created by a mage's fireball or comet. Sand littered the sides of the crater making it that much more harder to climb. The young man had been using the large pieces of metal embedded into the side of the crater to make his way up easier, but now there no more any further up. The pieces were most likely from whatever the mage had devastated with his spell. Walking up the rest of the steep incline through sand was slowly draining the young man.
"That's it... I give up... you win," he rasped out in a final cry to the world. His body was drained both mentally and physically and with his last words his legs gave way. Voltre's body tumbled down the side of the crater, bouncing through the sand and kicking up dust. With a large crash, Voltre collided with a large cog jutting from the ground. His body landed upright with his back to the cog and the sun beating down on his face. The last thing the young man saw was the sun high up in the sky. It must be noon, he thought, referring to suns position, although the angle his body was at greatly distorted his perception. Voltre passed out soon after. He was so drained, he didn't even realize the small crown poking out of the sand by his right hand.
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Posted: Fri Sep 04, 2009 10:13 am
Not too far away from the crater Voltre laid in, a group of goblins was passing by. Some of them carried weapons; swords and spears made of clockwork pieces. Others carried large packs full of supplies; food, water, and tents they could put together in seconds. They all wore thick hide boots and leather bracers with red cloth mixed somewhere in between for clothing, the color their tribe had chosen almost a thousand years earlier to represent them.
One goblin stood out from the others. He was at the head of the traveling group. This goblin wore a large belt buckle made of what looked like the front piece of a knights helmet. Across his belt were an assortment of hammers of all sizes and bottles filled with strange looking substances. A red loincloth hung from his belt and traveled almost all the way down to the ground. He wore no shirt, but displayed his chiseled chest and arms out as a display of his strength. Even though he barely stood 4 feet tall, this goblin was much bigger than the others. His face was half covered from his large pointed nose up by a red hat that seemed way to big for him, but fit him perfectly at the same time. Eye slits had been cut out so everyone could see his power gaze. The goblin carried no pack, but a staff made of metal with two gears asphyxiated at the top. Some unknown source of power caused these two gears to constantly spin slowly. This was the chief of these goblin nomads. This was Gugnolt.
Gugnolt's ears caught the sound of the crash before the rest of his tribe could barely register it. He held his hand up as a sign to halt. No one questioned him. "Forkens," he called over to his best scout, "goez over tooz that crater over therez and check it outz." The other goblin took off after quickly nodding to his chief.
"Alrightz, wez wait for Forkens," he told the rest of his tribe. None of the goblins put down their weapons or packs. They knew better than to do that. The gear they possessed was priceless to them and if they needed to take off, they would waste no time in having to pick up their large packs. They had been nomads their whole lives and lived because they knew the rules of these plains. You always had to be on your toes no matter what the situation was.
A few minutes later Forkens came running back. After a quick salute to his Gugnolt he gave his report. "There seemz to bez a human body inz there boss." Gugnolt nodded. The chief knew what was next: Go loot the body for anything worth taking.
The goblin chief led his group over to the crater. He instructed that everyone stay up at the lip while he and Forkens went to loot the body. After quickly sliding down to the giant cog the body was leaned up against, Gugnolt stopped. He quietly approached the human. Slowly moving up the it, he poked the young man's body with the butt end of his staff. This drew a moan from Voltre and Forkens jumped back in surprise. Gugnolt put his hand up to the young mans mouth and felt air blow against his skin. As he was leaned over, he also noticed something by the man's hand.
"What do wez do now boss?" Forkens asked realizing that the body was not a carcass just yet.
Digging a crown out of the sand with his free hand and leaning back up, Gugnolt replied, "Wez take him with us. He bez a prince," he said, showing Forkens the crown.
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Posted: Sat Sep 05, 2009 11:14 am
Voltre woke up in a small hammock. It took him a little bit to get his bearings straight, but he finally was able to take in the scene around him. The young man was in a small hut of some sort. The hut seemed to be made of fabric stretched across metal poles with joints in the every so often. Outside, the wind was howling. The inside of the hut also had another hammock across the room, and an anvil in its center. A small forge could be seen behind the anvil with its chimney rising up to the ceiling of the hut and exiting as it reached the top. Across the small room was a desk covered in beakers, flasks, and a small cauldron, all filled with strange liquids. That's when Voltre also noticed the only other person in the room hunch over at the desk with a weird looking hat on.
"Excuse me, but where am I?" he called out across the hut.
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Posted: Sat Sep 05, 2009 11:22 am
Gugnolt turned around at his desk after hearing that his visitor had finally awaken. "You arez in the tent of Gugnolt, Chief of thez Nomadic Goblinz of thez Foreverz Plainz," he said getting up from his stool. He was carrying a flask in one hand and a crown in another. He walked over to Voltre and handed him the flask. "Drinkz thiz your highzness," he said to the young man, which drew a look of curiosity from Voltre. The Gugnolt hurried back to the cauldron with the rusted crown. "Don't youz worry, wez found the crown thatz fell off yourz head when youz fell on it. I've evenz... how youz sayz... polished it upz for youz," the chief said before dunking the the crown in the mysterious liquid.
When he extracted the crown from the cauldron, it looked good as new. The silver on the crown glinted in the fire light. He quickly brought it over to Voltre for approval and handed it to the young man.
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Posted: Sat Sep 05, 2009 11:34 am
Voltre took the flask from Gugnolt with a curious look on his face. It wasn't because he wasn't sure if he should drink this or not, but it was because he stood in the presence of a goblin that had called him 'your highness'. The young man was a far from royalty as it got, so why in the world would this goblin chief think he was someone special.
Voltre popped off the lid to the flask he was handed and started drinking right away. He was so thirsty he didn't care what he drank so long as it quenched his thirst. As soon as the liquid hit his lips, the young man began to feel his strength return. The mental fog that had clouded his thoughts lifted as well. It was if he had just sipped from the elixir of life.
Voltre's first questions were further deepened when Gugnolt handed him a crown. It was small and silver with three purple stones embedded in the top. A wave of shock drenched Voltre. Those stones had been his etherium.
"Yes youz likez what I didz with yourz etheriumz prince...?" Gugnolt was waiting on the boys name.
"Voltre..." the young man answered, astonished by the craft work. "Wait, how did you know that this was etherium? The crystal had lost most of its distinguishing glow before I had passed out," the young man asked.
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Posted: Sat Sep 05, 2009 11:40 am
Gugnolt smiled as he looked at the prince still lying in bed. "Onlyz a novice alchemist couldn't tellz youz what that waz just byz glancing atz it. I knewz az soon az I went throughz yourz gear it waz etherium." Gugnolt seemed to say that with much confidence. "I recharged yourz stonez with myz special mix soz theyz wouldn't bez justz for showz. Nowz put thesez clothez on. I haz something else toz showz youz," the old goblin said as he tossed a bag of clothes at the young man.
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Posted: Sat Sep 05, 2009 11:57 am
The young man caught the bag of clothes with ease. A little while ago, he would have been plowed over by the flying bag, but now he felt like he was in top shape again. He started pulling out the clothes.
What he found in the bag was astonishing. Voltre first pulled out a pair of black pants that seemed to fit him perfectly and comfortably. Next was a layered silk black shirt with white trim with long sleeves. Even after putting it on, Voltre still felt cool besides having the long sleeves on. Next was a pair of white swordsman's gloves, which also fitted him nicely. Finally, he found a black a purple sash that matched the etherium in his crown. He tied the sash around his waist. The young man picked up the crown and walked over to a full sized mirror next to his hammock. For being nomads this guy carries a lot of stuff with him, the young man thought as he looked himself over in the mirror. It seemed like everything he wore was custom tailored for himself.
Voltre looked at the crown in hand. He inspected the great craftsman work that hand been done to place the etherium in the crown and make it look natural. Voltre smirked as he brought it up to his head, planning on putting it on once just for laughs. What happened next surprised him. The crown jumped from his hands onto his head in a crooked position that seemed to fit him as he looked on in the mirror, his hands ready to catch the crown once it slide off his head from the angle it was at. What was surprising was that the crown never fell. It sat there on Voltre's head at that impossible angle, like it was super glued to him. The thing was the young man could barely feel it up there. He took the crown off with ease and place it back again. It still didn't budge.
Of all of etherium's properties, the strangest of them all were the stone's habit of finding random areas to cling to. From there they wouldn't budge an inch unless something told it to do so, or it was forced to move by an incredible power. It seemed Voltre's shard had become fond of his head when it was fused to the crown.
Giving up and walking away from the mirror like there was nothing he could do about it, Voltre moved to the forge where Gugnolt now stood. As he approached the goblin, he noticed Gugnolt had two things in his hands: a sword in its sheath in each.
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Posted: Tue Sep 08, 2009 1:41 pm
Gugnolt smiled widely as he held two swords in his hands. "Whenz I found youz I noticed yourz swordz were inz rough shape," he said while putting down one blade. Gugnolt then took the hilt of the blade he still held sheathed.
"Nowz, I didz somez research and foundz outz the namez of thesez thingz," the old goblin said, although he had no intention of explaining what he meant by research. He was an alchemist after all, and one of the best. "Thiz one waz Lay Lisaris. I tookz the cracked metalz and melted it downz. Thenz I reforged it using solarium as a base. Do youz knowz what thatz is?" Gugnolt asked. He watched as the young man shook his head. "Letz me showz youz.," was all the goblin said.
Even though he only pulled the blade out a little bit, the sword glowed tremendously bright. Solarium was a strong material that also magnified light sources. It was commonly used on airships so that little power was used while using large search light during night travel. The fact that the goblin had made a blade out of it was awe inspiring. "Thiz sword willz take light and magnifiez it tenfoldz. Great for lighting yourz way at night, but knowz you needz light or it willz just bez a normal sword," the chief explained.
He then grab the other blade and drew it from it sheath completely. It looked like a normal longsword, but the blade itself was jet black. "Dis one waz Nox Notisis, am I correct? I reforged it withz ashenite. Do youz knowz what thatz doez?" The goblin asked once more, getting the same results from the young man.
Gugnolt began waving the sword around in wide arcs. Wherever the blade had passed, a black curtain was left behind. Ashenite was also know for being a highly durable metal, but it would leave ash all over anything that touched it, making it a less than satisfactory material. "Nowz, it onlyz leavez these ash curtainz behindz when youz will the blade too," Gugnolt instructed and also showed by waving the blade around while not producing ash curtains. He quickly sheathed Nox Notisis and then grabbed one final piece of gear.
It was a custom holster made for the sheaths. It was meant to be worn on ones shoulder with the blades crossing the back of it diagonally downward for easy access to either blade from over the shoulder. "Herez, takez themz all," the chief commanded, handing over both swords and the holster.
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