Horus (an RP thread)

[Gawyn_Trakkand]

Ok! people of Horus i have had an idea and it may crash and burn it may not but either way it should be a little fun .

I don't know if many of you are familiar with an RP (role play) thread. Basically everyone is invited to join in, just pick a character (preferably one you actually play in RO) set it into the world and write from your characters perspective.

There are rules to RP threads.

- No spam: make your post as long as you want but dont mindlessly post and hog the thread.

- No Gods: by this i mean "i walked onto the battle field and destroyed everyone"

- No making the final blow: because this is a battle game and people from all realms will hopefully post on this so no ust saying "i hit him in the throat and he died" its boring as hell as well as unfair. Death can happen but so can resses etc. Death must be accepted by the person it's aimed at so if i said "Gawyn lunged his spear the blow aimed at the throat of Ultimate" For Ultimate to die he would have to accept death and write back "Ultimate felt the piercing strike clutched to the wound and collapsed to the ground" then thats a kill. Ultimate then has the choice to opt out of the RP thread or ress at alter and ofc be ressed by a conjurer.

- No one is invincible: Ok though it is up to the role player its always nice if you accept defeat with grace 1 on 1 fights can go on for AGES fair enough especially if they're enjoyable but if you're say fighting 5 on 1 then you're going to die just try and make it a cool death :P

Just wanted to get some general thoughts on the idea and how many would be up for it, doesn't matter about what your writing skill is as long as we can read it and it makes sense.

[Wield_II]

/me casts nuke (5)

Game over.

[Gabburtjuh]

/me resists, casts onslaught and rhany's jumps in for a epic SC on donato and ...

[NSer]

... get frozen by /me

[Wield_II]

"and" .. survives the ridiculously overpowered sc of rhany

[SirHiss]

/me watches these newbies skirmish from a safe distance

[Lekarz]

Thats hard to not be hero when you're weak conj with mass dispell ready to cast ^^ You must go inside war and do your job.

But I agree... more team work = more fun, but sometimes one guy , one bad choice could change the ways of war.

More conj with mass ressurect 5 please (today in one minute our Green friends have had their zerg back in Shaanarid +for them )

[Arafails]

/me runs around swinging at air repeatedly.

[Gourmandine]

/me gets kicked (5) by <stick your barb's name here>
/me is hit twice by <stick your barb's name here>
/me has 120hp left
<stick your barb's name here> casts feint(5) and sc(5) on /me
/me accepts death, what else could I do
/me is at central save
/me farts to spread reputation

[Kyrottimus]

Guess I'll be the first person to take Gawyn seriously.

Here's an excerpt from my novel, Stormchild, as a backing for my character:

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kygan and Kaleb were in a frenzy of exchanging blows; neither one connecting. Kygan
would catch one of Kaleb’s, throw one of his own and Kaleb would deflect. Within seconds
Brannis had arrived and rejoined the fight, and connected a powerful blow to the body of Kaleb.

Time and time again, one would get hit, fly from the fury of combat at high rate of speed
and land somewhere in the distance; only to cascade back into the fray within seconds.
It was not long before this garnered the attention of the entire village of Ethlian.

“Kyrottimus! Esht voya krempna noso!” Ayasha commanded in Rono from a few dozen
yards away. The two RalKin Warriors and the Voryn Charge halted. They panted heavily as
beads of sweat poured down their faces, mixed with crimson splotches of blood and dirt.

Their thin hide clothing was tattered and coated uniformly with light tan dust.
Kaleb caught his breath, looked over at Ayasha and cocked his head, “What did she say?”
he said between his panting breaths.

“She told me to stop right this instant,” Kygan replied, wiping the blood from his left
eyebrow with the back of his hand. He placed his hands upon the shoulders of his sparring
partners and nodded to them in respect.

The other two placed their hands upon Kygan’s and each others’ shoulders and nodded in return.
Kygan then turned around and began walking to the southwest without looking back as he
rubbed his aching left shoulder vigorously.

Kaleb grabbed his jaw and gently moved it from side to side, wincing his eyes; he looked
at Brannis then asked, “What does ‘Kyrottimus’ mean?”

Brannis spit a large globule of blood onto the dirt. He licked the remaining blood from
his lips and sniffed, then replied, “It is Rono for ‘Stormchild.’ It is what our people call
him.”

***

The sky was black, almost as if there was no sky. Everything around him was close and
shrouded in a haze; Kygan could barely see. Within moments, a dark, featureless and faceless
figure approached him from the fog.

“You realize your purpose do you not, boy?” the figure asked in a deep, echoing voice.
Kygan felt dizzy, and could only stare blankly at the figure. Kygan’s muscles would not
respond.

The figure continued, “You realize why you were brought into this world?” it paused and
held out its hand. “Everyone has a purpose, Kyrottimus Yarak. Yours is paramount to the end.”
A long, bony finger protruded from the black shroud it wore. Kygan looked down with his
blurred vision. His focus cleared and the finger before him was bone.

It touched him lightly on the right side of his chest, and then on both sides of his head.
He then woke up. All of a sudden, he felt the weight of the world upon him. Every part of his
body was sore and heavy as if made of lead. He could barely lift his head. He felt as if he had
not had any water for weeks. Seeing through only his right eye, for his left eye was heavily
bandaged as was most of his head, he looked around his room. Unlike the previous occurrence
when he awoke from a restless unconsciousness, his father was nowhere to be seen.
Slowly and painfully, Kygan sat up. He called out to any who may hear him. There was
no reply. He found the strength to get out of bed, grab his Lucon Spear to use as a walking aid,
and shuffle out of his clan’s harbrak. From this vantage, point, he could see what seemed like
the entire town standing at the gates of Ethlian.

Kygan limped forward to the gates; much of his bandages unfurling and trailing behind
him in the dirt. As he neared the gates, he saw his fellow Tribesmen standing there; their heads
were slung low. None seemed to acknowledge his arrival. Kygan did not see his father amongst
those in the crowd. He did see, however, a Voryn Charge in a grey cloak with one golden ring
on either bicep. Through the cowl, he could barely make out a face. After a few moments, he
recognized the man through his voice. It was Tarnaen Akonsli, the jokester Kygan had trained
alongside under the tutelage of Tyndius. Now, his tone appeared solemn and unnerved.

As Kygan hobbled closer, he could see Tarnaen’s expression. It was pale, and grim. He
was parlaying some sort of message from Aldaris. It must have been dire news, for several
Ramé’ Var men, women and many children were sobbing. Kygan hobbled up to Kaleb, who was
now also clad in the traditional grey Voryn Charge Second Class robes. This was telling, as
Kaleb was obviously no longer maintaining his masquerade as a Ramé’ Var Tribesman. Feriana,
standing next to Kaleb, was also in her Voryn Charge Robes.

Kaleb’s hood was down, and he had shaved his head once again, leaving the short, tied
back-knot of hair as was traditional Voryn fashion. Obviously, his stay with the Ramé’ Var was
coming to an end. Kygan leaned in to whisper something into Kaleb’s ear, as Kaleb slowly
turned his head.

“What is the meaning of—” Kygan’s voice cracked with dryness, and was frail and weak
as he struggled to finish his words. Kaleb held up his hand and looked back at the Voryn
Messenger. Kygan cleared his throat and tried his best to hear Tarnaen’s words through his
bandaged and blood-clotted ears.

Tarnaen was at the end of his message, “...a dark day
indeed for Rykarians everywhere. Tyranny is biting at our ankles my friends, and our numbers
grow small. Feriana is ordered to immediately return to the Rykarian
Noble Court, I personally feel this is nefarious in motivation.
For Tyndius believes that Mauvan is somehow behind this treachery. I must go now. Kaleb,
Feriana, I shall see you in a few days. Be ever wary.”

The two Voryn nodded in return, as Tarnaen turned and quickly strode away to the north.
Kygan straightened his posture and cleared his throat. Kaleb turned to face him; tears welling in
his eyes, “King Nuihiri is dead. He seemingly died in his sleep, but we all know he was too
powerful to go that way so suddenly. He would not die in his sleep in such a manner unless he
allowed it, not before addressing the Kingdom and appointing his replacement. Surely he would
have chosen Duke Bulihiri as the new King. Someone using unknown powers did him in; this I
know in the core of my heart, Kygan,” Kaleb said with a fierce anger Kygan had never heard
from him. Kygan empathized with the pain and loss, for he knew Nuihiri to be a great and noble
King.

Kygan lowered his head in mourning, then asked, “Kaleb, where is my father?” Kaleb
averted his eyes. “Kaleb. Where is my father?” Kygan repeated himself.

Kaleb replied, “Your father is in a deep slumber in the medicinal harbrak. The healers
are confounded as to how to revive him. He responds to none of their healing techniques.”

Kygan looked at the dirt between his feet, and his unbandaged eye searched along the
pebbles, trying to figure out what had occurred. Kaleb lowered his head a bit, trying to meet
Kygan’s gaze, “Kygan, what happened to you during the Vas Trials? No one has ever seen
anything like that before. Even your Elders were shocked.”

“I do not remember, Kaleb,” Kygan said, looking up to meet Kaleb’s eyes. Kygan,
obviously, was completely lost as to what had occurred during the Vas Trials.
Kaleb placed his hand upon Kygan’s shoulder, and nodded in support. Kygan nodded in
return, then took a few steps back.

The crowd at the gates of Ethlian began to disperse, returning to their daily tasks in the
Tribe with a mournful cloud in the back of their thoughts. As the mass of people thinned, Kygan
began to clumsily strip himself of his bandages. Kaleb took his leave and walked in step with
Feriana back to their respective harbraks. A few moments later, Kygan stood in only his short,
sekalope hide pants; the scars on his face and chest were still fresh upon his body. His temples
were sore to the touch. As he rubbed them, he felt some rawness and new relief under his hair,
something other than wounds or bruises; something in intricate shapes.

He half-limped to the nearest source of water, a shallow well near the corner of the
village walls. He looked in it with his good eye. He removed the bandage from his other eye,
but it was still blurry and he was unable to focus. Aside from his swollen eye and bruised face,
he noticed something else along the sides of his head. He pulled his hair taut, but could only
make out black and red shapes. He hastily used the edge of his spear to shave the hair from his
right temple to see fully what had marked him.

After a few moments of crude shaving, and some blood, he was shocked to see what had
been imprinted upon both sides of his head. On the right side were the old Rono runic symbols
spelling ‘Kyrottimus,’ which was old Rono for ‘Stormchild’; on the left side, were the old Rono
runic symbols spelling ‘Yarak,’ denoting his ancestral clan. Yarak, consequently, in old Rono
means ‘Bane of Tyrants.’ These Ethereal Runes had appeared without placing his hands upon
the ritualistic Blackstones, nor with the Chief’s blessing. Kygan could not remember the
moment he was branded by these Ethereal marks, yet they were there, upon him. His bandages
and hair had obscured their presence to anyone else.

Even so, the marks indicated symbolically that he was now an ancestrally blessed Vas Warrior, though, thus far known only to him.

Kygan reached into the shallow well, and cupped some water into his hands to wash the
blood and small locks of shorn hair away. He then took a drink. The water was cool, with a
metallic aftertaste; it was his own blood diluted with the water. He stood up and braced his
weight upon his spear. As he turned, he saw something black out of the corner of his eye. It was
at the open gate. He turned his head and there it was in full view. A large, beady-eyed helkane
stood there, puffing the air in and out of its large nostrils, slightly turning its head from side to
side. It stopped, and sharply turned its gaze to meet Kygan’s. It charged.

Without thought, Kygan reacted in a blur of motion. The next moment, Kygan realized he was
standing there without a spear to lean on; he lost his balance and staggered a few steps
rearward, almost falling. He looked up, and noticed through his blurred vision that somehow he
had impaled the beast’s massive head with his spear, pinning it to the stone wall of Ethlian.
Thick, black blood oozed from its gaping jaw, and pooled upon the dirt; steam issuing forth as
the leaking evil seeped into the earth.

A moment later, the world spun about Kygan and he was brought to his knees. His
strength had not yet returned. The overcast sky spun above him. The frigid wind picked up
violently, as fresh flakes of snow began to numb his bare chest. He heard some voices shouting
in the distance, as the nearest Ramé’ Var saw Kygan’s motionless form near the gate. As he
passed from his fleeting consciousness, he knew the secret the Council of Elders had held for the
past several years was now revealed. The reason for the massive wall, and for Ethlian itself, had
become apparent to him. Though, complacency had set in; one of the hellish beasts had easily
breached the open gates. His eyes hinted at a weak, Blue Ethereal Flow. It quickly faded.

Kygan sputtered and coughed; his lungs pleading for air. He reached his hand out to an
unidentifiable shape, and his body went limp. “Father,” he coarsely whispered, as his eyes
closed.


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In case you didn't pick it up, "Kyrottimus" is more of a title than a name, as my character would only be known by this title to those he wished.

I know this is an RO/RP concept, of current, active players. If this thread goes anywhere, I'll then do mine, though I don't know who to fight Consider this backstory :P