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 Posted: Sun Aug 17, 2014 8:38 pm
This Quest is for Ruelash who is striving to become a Knight.
 OOC
||. The quest prompt must be answered with a 2000 word reply (can be more).
||. Respond to the prompt given with an adventure of your own creation as long as it meets the requirements of the specific tasks.
||. NPCs may be used as long as they advance the quest in an interesting manner.
||. You cannot include any playable characters other than the quest taker.
||. Your responses will be graded with a Pass or Fail. Those who fail will have to continue with assistance from the staff.
||. Questions about quests can be asked here.
IC
Fresh snow has fallen, covering up foot prints and any signs of life in the early morning. In Zena it seemed that the worries about the war were far from peoples minds. The Obans were in Jauhar and so they were safe from any impending attack. Everyone was relatively carefree, going about their lives as if there was nothing to worry about. Still there was one who had seen the horrors first hand, and couldn't quite shake the dread he had experienced in Jauhar.
The Obans were everywhere, no where was safe from their cruelty, and despite being so far from the front lines, Ruelash couldn't shake the feeling that the war had followed him home. This of course isn't true, the Obans had gathered their forces in Jauhar and thus they are merely figments of his over active imagination.
Quest Points
|| Ruelash should suffer a high amount of paranoia in regards to the war. 'seeing' Obans left and right, but discovering no one there.
|| Ruelash however will discover a single Oban who is scouting the area/location for the king. Ruelash can either engage with this woman and attempt to defeat her or try and stalk her to gather information.
|| Ultimately she should get away, despite all of Ruelash's attempts.
|| Ruelash can try and warn the village about the scout but will be scoffed at, nobody believing the Obans would be so far from the battlefront.
|| Ruelash will have to come to terms with himself. Does he want to really be a part of this war? Should he go back to Jahaur and warn everyone about what he has discovered? Or just sit back and let the events play out?
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Posted: Sun Aug 24, 2014 11:51 am
He didn't know why he had come home to Zena. Maybe it had to do with snow or cold or maybe even something about going home or checking on Jawaad. Something like that. He didn't remember. All he knew is that it had made sense then.
Now, though, he had no idea what his reasons were. He'd been so excited when he'd been coming through the pass to Secer, full of anticipation: like he'd felt just before the battle.
But when he reached the end and saw his home village sitting, resolute and tough in it's smallness, amidst the stones and snowdrifts, he'd felt nothing. Not joy, not hate, not disgust.
Just nothing.
The villagers were insufferable as always, so he and Direk – and sometimes he without Direk – had taken to roaming the wilds around Secer like he had done his whole life. He'd hoped that the bleak and hopeless lands that he admired so much would give him something. But they gave him nothing. They seemed desolate and too damn quiet for his taste, and he didn't understand why. That pissed him off – that he didn't understand – and he had reacted by being grouchy and antisocial.
Not that he wasn't like that usually, but he'd been getting less so of late. Now, though, he hated everything, and especially the people in his village. Those stupid worthless lazy people. He'd hated them since he was old enough his insults at their faces, and he hated them now. But he also felt something more, something he could not define.
Not that Ruelash felt particularly inclined to define it. Analyzing anything, of himself or of others, was not his strong suit.
He turned over on his bed, reluctant to get up. Today, he knew, would be another day of tedium. Of stupid people and stupid places and stupid blank snow. He wanted his dreams – blurry and undetailed as they were – to stay with him and not leave him in his waking. He welcomed what others would call nightmares, the dreams where he was still fighting, where he was always fighting. Sure he lost in the dreams, and he'd lost in reality, but that was where he needed to be.
Fighting.
The War just wasn't here. He missed the battlefield. He'd heard others who had fought talk of the 'horrors' of war, and how they hoped it would not go on or wouldn't happen or whatever. Ruelash thought they were wimps. He wanted it to happen. He wanted it to keep happening. He wanted it to go on forever, and to be happening now, then, at every moment. He didn't want the war to end.
Ruelash woke up and dragged himself out of bed, feeling like s**t, more so because he could easily remember just how alive he had felt as his sword had sliced through flesh. He had danced through a rain of blood and arrows, and he had loved it.
Now, though, he was far away from it, where people didn't care, and it was frustrating. Why had he come back?! Why?! Nothing. He still didn't know, and he didn't know what else to do with himself. So, resigned to dull wakefulness, he tied up his hair, put on his things, grabbed his pack and headed out, munching on something unidentifiable as anything other than 'food' as he went.
The village was awake and he glared at each person in turn. It felt wrong here, like there was something off about everything. He had started feeling it a few days ago: it began as a wariness he couldn't quite describe, and had grown into an almost physical knotting pain in his gut. He hadn't been able to figure it out but, today, a thought came suddenly and unbidden into his head.
Obans he realized, What if them Obans have got to 'em?
They'd gotten to those men, his mentors, hadn't they? Somehow? And he'd trusted them. He didn't believe for a moment that those bastards had just up and decided, on their own, to betray their homeland. They'd been, he thought, too loyal, too tough, too respectable to be traitors of their own will.
No, he realized, they'd been worked on. He stopped in his walk, intensely watching a woman tend to her capra stock. They'd been worked on, like making a hook – you had to gently heat and bend it otherwise it would break and be weak and useless. They'd been curved, and that meant that there had been someone heating them and working on them. There had to be someone there all along. In Zena... and they might still be there, working on other people.
Ruelash found he didn't like that idea - that the Obans would be on his home snow and soil made him feel, almost, violated. If he found the spies or whatever, he could kill them, and the thought made him feel better.
He'd been heading out to the wilds to do whatever he felt like doing out there, but with his new realization, he decided to snoop around town. He smirked as the woman looked up and saw him. He was well known as a dangerous young man in his home village, and his gaze made her uncomfortable. She retreated to her house, Ruelash squinting suspiciously after her. Now, why's she runnin' off he thought. He hopped her fence and looked around the grounds.
He didn't have any idea how spies worked, but he knew enough to know that signals could be anything. He'd made marks on the ground, as had Veshki – twigs, sticks, bones, anything – to show where things like food and paths were. What about capra? Could herd them into patterns, or paint them... Or their dung? Even better, since the crap didn't move. He began poking around her pens, searching for any sort of pattern.
“What do you want?” he turned to see her standing there, brandishing a pitchfork at him, “Get out.”
“Wha', me?” he said, leering, “I'm just lookin'.”
She jabbed at him threateningly. “Look from over there. Far over there. I don't like the likes of you and I don't want you near my stock... hey!!!” she exclaimed as she was pushed aside.
If it wasn't in her stock, maybe it was in her house, whatever 'it' was. He barged inside and started rummaging through her belongings, which were sparse – other than her home and her capramel, she did have much to her name.
“By the ice, what are you doing?!” she exclaimed, “Get Out!” she shouted, “I'll stick you if I have to! Get out of my house!”
“Sure, sure.” He'd pretty much ripped the place apart anyway and found nothing that he could link to the fire tribe. He didn't feel sorry for the unnecessary search and the mess he left behind: as far as he was concerned, the stupid woman deserved it. “'m leaving.”
“Yes! Get out! And don't show your face around here again.” Which was amusing because he lived right across the way, so he clearly would be back, but he didn't care about her or her threats – he was already out the door and on his way.
He'd had an idea, one of those infrequent and dubiously brilliant occurrences that occasionally graced his mind. Who better than a healer to be a spy? They were perfectly placed, had the ear of everybody, and made all sorts of strange concoctions. Plus, Ruelash had never liked the village healer (not that he liked anybody, of course). The healer looked like a rat, and 'Lash was pretty sure that they acted like one too. He remembered one particular occasion where the man might have tried to cheat Veshki, long ago. The memory was a bit fuzzy, but anybody who might have tried to take advantage of his saintly brother was s**t in Ruelash's book, if he read.
Well. The healer was already scum - that just made it even more perfect.
Ruelash found the healer's hut and shoved in the door.
“Can I help... aaah!” Ruelash took a special gratification in how the man leapt from his seat at a mere look, and he hadn't even drawn his sword yet. “You! What do you want?! What is the meaning of this?”
His protests were suspicious. Ruelash started rifling through the tent, overturning and opening things without rhyme or reason.
“What are you doing?!” cried the man. Ruelash turned on him, pinning him to a wall.
“Where is it?” he growled.
“What?! Where is what?!”
Ruelash didn't know himself. “Whatever yer usin' to communicate with th' Obans!” he snarled, “And whatever you're drugging people with so they betray their own!”
“I have no idea what you're talking about!” babbled the man. Ruelash felt magic build under his hands, “Now get out of my... oof!”
Ruelash bashed him, once, against the wall and drew one of his blades. “Tell me...” he snarled, “Or I cut you.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about! I don't have anything! I don't even think there are any Obans here at all! Why would there be? We're far away from anything... I'm not a spy! Why are you doing this? Let me go!”
Ruelash decided he believed the man – a quivering lump like that wasn't much of a liar. He slammed the man against the wall again anyway for good measure and left, stalking towards the outskirts of town.
He had yet another idea. Who better to be a spy than someone you least expected, right? Someone whose words were all quiet but who said them often? Who better, then, then Ranla, his sister in law? She knew all of Veshki's routes around the wilds, and she also knew everybody in Secer. She would be perfect.
Ruelash ignored the stares he got as he stalked through the village – they didn't matter. He knew who it was, now. With great certainty, he knew who the spy was; the traitor that had turned good, loyal people into fellow traitors.
He banged on his sister in law's door. “Oi! Ranla!” he called out.
“Hey Uncle 'Lash!” chirped one of his nieces, and he felt his bitter ire pulled out from under him like a rug.
“Oh. Hey...” he said. “Er. Is yer ma in?”
“Nah.” she said, “I'm making dinner for when she comes back – I want to show her how good I've gotten. You want some?”
“Kay.” He let himself be led inside.
“Good.” she said, leading him to the kitchen, “I needed to test it on someone.” His stomach reminded him that he was hungry as she sliced off a piece of meat and gave him a starchy root.
He ate a bit: somehow, his throat wasn't as hungry as his stomach, and he poked at the snack. “Hey, kid. Yer ma... She been acting odd lately?”
“Nope!” said the girl, watching him cheerily, “Not more than usual, anyway. Why?”
He managed to finish the snack, though it took some effort. “I'm trying to find spies.” he said, “I know they're out there an'...”
“What's a spy?”
“Someone who.... uh...” Ruelash didn't actually know, “Bad Oban people who make other people... uh... be bad.” he said.
“But you're bad.” she pointed out, “But you're not a spy?”
“No, they're like... a different bad? Sneaky bad. I en't sneaky. I kill you, I do it proper.” he retorted.
“But you're gonna be an assasin, right?” she angled her spoon at him, “So that means you're going to be sneaky and backstabbing, right?”
“Yeh...” he admitted, “But these spys, they don' even use blades, right? They use words and they make other people do the blade stuff. That kind a' sneaky.”
“Oh... well, Ma wouldn't do that.” she smiled, taking the small clay plate away, “So you don't have to worry... well?” she put her hands on her hips, the perfect imitation of her mother. “How was it?”
“Good.” Though Ruelash didn't exactly have a refined palette: it was starch and meat. The only way it could get better was with eggs. “You sure?”
“Yeah. She's sneaky but she's not bad: as a general rule, if Poppa wouldn't have done it, she won't do it. You know she wouldn't do anything Poppa wouldn't do.” she gave him a kiss on the forehead.
Veshki. Yes. Veshki wouldn't do anything like that. He wouldn't do anything bad, ever, at all. And he believed his niece's assessment. “Right.”
“So, yeah! You don't have to worry.” she went back to finishing her cooking.
“Arright.” he said, “Don't bother lettin' her know I was here.” he said, getting up.
“Aww, leaving already? I wanted to show you my new basket...”
“Yeh.” he said, stalking to the door, “I need to go clear my head.” he hesitated, “I'll be back t' see your basket if you want.” he added, as an afterthought.
“You do that!” she called after him, as he stalked out into the snowy wilderness.
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Posted: Sun Aug 24, 2014 11:52 am
The wild lands of Zena offered Ruelash no comfort. Their soft silence, broken only by the crunch of snow beneath his boots, was a reminder of how different things were. Once, he would have enjoyed the silence and solitude. Now, it made him moody. So the herder hadn't been a spy, the healer hadn't been a spy. Ranla couldn't be a spy because of Veshki. So, why? Why had the men he had trusted betrayed him so thoroughly? He leaned against a drift and glared at the ground, holding his head in his hands. It wasn't possible. It just wasn't. There had to have been something else. He looked around him, and back at the village – just barely a spot in the distance now. He wanted to go back. He wanted to leave. He had no idea what he wanted to do. He scowled at it and turned away, muttering angrily to himself as he headed for the woodlands to hunt: he needed to kill something. He soon found the trail of a promising Raoti and tracked it, determined to not think about complicated things like war and spies for a while. His head hurt, and he hurt inside too. It was too quiet. Too alone. He spotted the beast and grinned, swords drawn as he stalked towards it. He'd end it quickly, two sharp blades to the back of it's neck and it would go down, easy as anything. He looked forward to the brief scuffle and the kill, to the rush as he leapt out of the bushes and the gradual let down as the critter went limp beneath him. He waited until he was in leaping distance, and was about to pounce in for the kill when a glitter of orange caught his eye, distracting him. He squinted into the washed-out dusk of the forest and saw, to his surprise, a humanoid shape. He hunkered down in the lichenous brush, studying them warily. It was a woman, brown skinned and dark, with glittering orange blocky crystals and dark brown hair beneath the furs they wore. Oban She was an Oban. In Zena. Ruelash's heart raced and he hissed back in intake of breath. He began to stalk towards her instead, the raoti forgotten. He hid behind a tree, watching as she took out her bow and aimed at the Raoti. He knew she would be at her weakest and most vulnerable when she moved to kill it – he supposed spies needed to hunt too. He was glad he'd found the spy, and, oddly, that it hadn't been one of the villagers. There was an actual Oban here in his cold homeland. He gripped his swords and grinned. He'd get rid of her. As she let her arrow loose with the twang of a bowstring, he loosed himself with a freeing yell, his swords stabbing into the ground beneath: warned by his warcry she dodged out of the way at the last second. He decided he'd have to stop doing that, no matter how good it felt. He pulled his blades out of the ground and went after her with them. She dodged again, and Ruelash was impressed – she was fast. And soon, she was off, running for the woods, leaping over fallen logs and stones and snowdrifts with the agility of an Aldabuck. Ruelash chased her, feeling some of the old ferocity reignite within him. This was what he lived for, this was what he was – a hunter and chaser, and she was his prey. His eyes gleamed with excitement he could barely contain as he tracked her over the snow. But, all too soon, her tracks stopped. Puzzled, he paused and looked around, even looking up. Nothing. No sign of her. He poked around the area for a time, trying to find a trace – some trace – any trace of the Oban. But it was as if she had, at the end of her footprints, vanished. Fine. He was dissappointed, but he knew what he had to do. It was what Veshki would have done, had his brother been alive to see the war. He was going to tell the village. ~~~ As he stalked off towards Secer, the Oban scout breathed a sigh of relief and let her enchanted blanket drop, revealing her in the crotch of a tree several meters away. This was a setback – she wasn't supposed to be seen – but only a minor one. She hopped nimbly down the tree, and proceeded to go about her business.
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Posted: Sun Aug 24, 2014 11:53 am
“Hey. Hey!” Ruelash kicked at the bone posts that held up the elder's tent.
“What is it?” grumbled the village elder, “Oh, its you. You've been causing a lot of trouble, more than usual... What is it this time?”
“Obans.”
“What?”
“Obans. I saw one in the wilds.”
“There are no Obans in Zena, Ruelash.”
“But I saw one! I attacked her an' she got away, but she was one, no mistaking.”
Ruelash was trying to do the right thing, the Veshki thing. He had stalked right back into the village and stormed into the elder's home and told him. There.
“Ruelash...” the elder gestured for the young man to sit, “Listen. I heard about what you did, and I think...” he sighed, “Look, when you go through a battle, sometimes you come out thinking everything is your enemy. It's so chaotic out there in the fight that sometimes you bring a little of that chaos home. You get so used to the enemy being everywhere, that you think they are everywhere, even when they're not.” he sat down, waiting. “Thats what happened today, isn't it? I can forgive you for ransacking Dimari's house and upsetting her animals, and I can forgive you accosting the healer: you're not well and you've never been quite...” the man cut himself off, “Either way, just... calm down. Rest. Relax. Spend time with that pet of yours...”
“I saw an Oban.” grunted Ruelash, remaining standing. The other people didn't need to be spies, not if there was already one. She did it. That woman – that awesomely fast Oban woman.
“She wasn't there. You imagined it.” the elder leaned back, “Why would they be here, anyway? There's not much for them, and besides... The war is in Jahuar.”
“I saw one.” he affirmed.
“Go home. Get some rest.” said the elder, “or I could give you something productive to do. Your choice.”
It was clear that the man didn't believe him. “Fine.” growled Ruelash, leaving the tent, his posture hunched and threatening. He wanted to punch the man, beat him until he believed him, but for some reason he just couldn't summon the will to do it.
Instead, he went to the one person he could trust to occasionally believe him.
“Hey kid!” he called, knocking at Ranla's door, “I said I'd be back!” he let himself in, stomping off the snow from his boots as he entered the kitchen.
He stopped.
They were all there; nieces, nephew, and sister in law. The nieces would believe him – they were decent enough- The nephew was too young to understand anything, and their ma, for her part, didn't like him. He glared at her. He didn't like her either.
“So!” chirped his niece, “Is your head all cleared?”
“I suppose.” he said, not taking his eyes off the woman. The stupid tart still blamed him for Veshki's death, and they'd never liked each other to start. “I saw an Oban.” He said casually.
“An Oban?!” cried his niece. The three of them – nephew included - looked at him with awe.
“Did you attack it?”
“What was it doing?”
“Did you kill it?”
“There was no Oban.” said there mother, standing up, her yellow eyes practically sparking with dislike. “Your uncle...” she spat the word like it was something filthy, “Is seeing Obans where they aren't, and rifling through people's personal belongings to try to find them.” She walked around the table, bristling angrily. “Listen, boy. You're nothing like your brother. I don't know why my children like you, or why they dare to let a monster like you in, but its time for you to get out.” she stood straight and tall, “Out. Now.”
He waved a dismissive hand at her. “Fine.” he growled, loping out and slamming the door behind him.
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Posted: Sun Aug 24, 2014 11:55 am
Ruelash went straight to Direk's stall. “Hey girl.” he said, petting her soft black coat, “I saw an Oban today. Nobody believes me.”
She huffed. She didn't care. That was what Ruelash liked about her, how she didn't care about anything.
“You know, I dunno why I'm still here” he said, sitting on the fence, “These people are ungrateful and stupid, and y'know, they've always been.”
Direk didn't particularly like them either. She nosed at his hands for a treat. Absently, he offered her one.
“But I really saw an Oban. Those other people weren't spies, I got that. I had to check, though. 's what Veshki would have done. Made damn sure...” he rambled. Well, maybe not the way he'd done it – oh well. “After those men up and switched sides, Direk, I figure... anybody could, right? It's s**t.” he grumbled, “Just s**t.”
Direk munched on her treat, occasionally turning her ear towards him.
“I hate it here.” he mumbled, kicking at the snow, “Its home an' I hate it. That don't make sense. Don't make any sense at all.” He looked up at her for a minute, then grinned. “Ye remember the fight, dontcha? With all the shouting and killing and blood everywhere?”
Direk remembered.
“I miss that.” he admitted, looking down at his hands, “I miss that a lot. Say, why'd I ever leave?” He thought for a moment, “Righ'. It got quiet. An' I wanted to show Zena to Iroia. But she's all distracted now, ain't she? Got her own business to do, and thats fine.” he grimaces, “But I'm done here. I wan' t' go back.”
And, he realized, he did. Jahuar was sweaty and hot and uncomfortable, but he wanted battle. He needed battle. “Yeh.” he said again, “I wan' t' go back there an' show those Oban sons-o-capramel how my blade feels in their guts and through their throats and... and...” he shook, rage blossoming, brief and black and welcome, in his heart, “I want to show those traitors why ye don't mess with Veshki's name.”
Direk huffed.
“Yeh. It's settled. To Chi with this place.” he slipped off the fence. He wanted action. He wanted excitement. He wanted some frosting respect. “I'm goin' back to Jahuar.”
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Posted: Sun Aug 24, 2014 11:57 am
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Posted: Thu Aug 28, 2014 9:54 pm
Class Quest Result
Pass!
Ruelash has passed and received the rank of Knight!
Ruelash has also been awarded a Shop item for the detail that went into establishing his mental state and its contribution to the quest.
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