8) Sweet. I'm not twelve pages behind already. Maybe I will be able to keep up, this time.

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^ [knows the feeling]

I can breathe... breathe... breathe...breathe...

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- married fingon fingolfinion 6/4/13 -
~art credit~

^Yeah. Here, I'll pm SG and Raven and see when they're gonna be able to get their bios up. But we can't really start without them since their characters are chosen ones.

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I'm back!

AGH! Sorry! I'll get right to work on mine!

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^No worries, m8. Just get it posted whenever you can

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I'm back!

Character posted..finally.

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Yay! Now, I'm just waiting to hear back from SG and then we'll start.

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I'm back!

((Okay we're finally starting!!! We'll began where the eleven chosen are about to leave the palace in Talatia to make their journey towards The Grainayar.))

The eleven Riverians gathered outside palace stables were different in age, race, and gender, but they had all been chosen to serve one purpose. The survival of their nation and their gods depended on them. No matter how their separate lives were before, they were now all together in one struggle. Each knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

Erillyn sighed under the heavy weight of their duty as she prepared her large black stallion to go. She wished she was back in her home and things were back to normal. The forest that she had lived in had once been so peaceful, so beautiful in its graceful simplicity, but now it was tainted by the evil of the Archfiend and his minions. Even though she was normally a calm and easy-going person, that thought sent rage through her veins. She supposed that if anything she could complete this task that had been bestowed on her for the love of her destroyed home.

Not for the first time since when three days ago the mages had found her and chosen her for the quest, Erillyn wondered at the feeling deep in the core of her being that she knew to be the source of her new powers. She thought back to how she had seen those mages die soon after they gave the last of their gifts to her and the others who had been chosen like her. She hated that they had had to die to give her the powers, but she knew it had been necessary. The powers were losing their potency within the mages' bodies and needed new hosts. Telepathy, weather manipulation, and healing, those were the three powers that she had recieved. She wondered if she would be able to use them as effectively as the mages had for so long.

Finished readying her horse, Erillyn brushed a stray strand of her chestnut hair off her forehead and pulled herself up into the saddle. Once situated, she checked to make sure that her two daggers were easily accessible at her belt. With all the dangers lurking about, one never knew when they might need to defend themselves. And she and her companions would be in quite a bit of danger if the enemy found out their purpose. She also checked to make sure that she had a full quiver of arrows.

Then she looked around at her ten companions, wondering what they were thinking. Were they as frightened as she? As worried? She also wondered what they were like. She would be spending all her time with these people for as long as it took to get to The Grainayar, and that was many leagues away.

As Erillyn waited for everyone else to ready their mounts, her gaze drifted west, towards The Grainayar. Of course, she could not see it, but she had learned from their extensive research as to where it lay. She had never before seen the barren wasteland, but she had heard tales. It was said to be a horrible place of an extremely hot and dry climate. Nothing alive was said to be able to survive there long. A cold chill ran down her spine. If anyone place could be the portal to the Underworld, she was sure The Grainayar would be it.

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I'm back!

Maria sat above her jet black horse and waited for the other ten to finish getting ready to leave. Looking around she saw Erillyn and decided that since they were both ready she would go talk to her.

trotting over to Erillyn she wondered what she would see in this journey

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"Is all that we see or seem in a dream, but a dream?" -Edgar Allen Poe

[: ? # = $ ^ ~ +]


Normal is for Muggles!

Alternating between brushing down her chestnut mare and making sure she had packed everything, Avhráina was, as a result, oblivious to almost everything else going on around her. This was a blessing in disguise, since she had so much pressing on her mind just then. Misguided opinions of the quest she had gotten herself into, mixed feelings about her new..abilities, and just general uneasiness and uncertainty summed it all up effectively. Pausing in midstroke of the brush, she tugged absentmindedly at one of the rings set in her left cartilage: a tarnished silver design of some sort, and she breathed out a quiet sigh. The only thing she had recieved from her mother, long ages ago, was that very earring..and now, it seemed like it belonged to someone else unconnected to her in the extreme. Releasing the earring, she shook herself and continued brushing down Ríallin, who nickered quietly, as if gauging her mistress' unease.

"I'm alright.." she finally murmured, putting the brush away and patting Ríallin's neck. "For now, at least." she added in a lower tone, as if to herself, then began the process of cleaning and preparing the saddle. Just as she began to put the saddle on Ríallin's back, she finally became aware of her brother's close proximity, and realized with an inward grimace that he seemed to be at least as uneasy as she. The two of them then exchanged a glance, only to return to their respective tasks promptly. Within the space of a few moments, the twins mounted as one, since they had finished preparing and saddling at the same time, and once again, they exchanged a glance..then looked to their other companions with expressions bordering on open curiousity.

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Xaviera brushed the last clod of dirt off her horse. His golden coat gleamed, almost matching Xaviera's hair. She quickly saddled him, seeing as the others were waiting. She double checked her supplies, then joined the group of people who were ready.

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- married fingon fingolfinion 6/4/13 -
~art credit~

Another female riding on a white mare rode in the back of their group. She wore a pair of black breeches with a red pesants skirt over it. She also wore a black undershirt with a red tunic over it. She was heavy armed, for her father had been a blacksmith and taught her how to use weapons well.

She carried two curved swords, two daggers, a throwing-axe, and her bow and arrow. She also knew how to use a spear or a spike, if she had too.

Her named was Alythrya, and she had long black hair that was tied up in a braid. Her mystrious purple eyes stood out in the crowd, but now she felt proud. And nervous. She had fought people before, but never on a life and death situation like this. SHe was just a low-down common-folk. She was no hero. But now, she had no choice.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Ewaviner entered a dark room in one of the great citadels in the Underworld. This citadel was given to him by the Archfiend. Inside the room were several prisoners in their cells, guarded closely by two wraiths.
"One's close to death," a wraith answered. "The other are edging their way."
"Let us quicken his progress," said Ewaviner in a cold voice. The prisoners were given good food and drink but the two of them have became birthplace to the extremely small organisms that caused disease or what Ewaviner called viruses. With a small edge from his mind, he commanded the virus to reproduce faster. A cough could be heard from another cell. Interested, Ewaviner went towards it and noticed a small colony of these viruses. He dispersed them with a thought, cleansing the man from the viruses. He exited the room when a messenger said, "My lord, Our Master demands your presence."
"Very well," Ewaviner said. He walked outside and turned into a demonic bat and flew towards the Archfiend's fortress.

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I was cured all right.

Seryl's horse pranced fretfully, turning in a tight circle as her rider expertly maneuvered the skittish beast.

The girl looked at first glance to be a short, slight boy, with a curly mop of golden curls clustering tight about her head, but her features were decidedly female. Elven precision showed itself in her pointed chin, slanted blue eyes and delicately pointed ears, but her build was not Elven - a trait inherited from her human father. Seryl gave off an almost pixie-like impression, in fact, not belied by her breezy confidence and the shrewd glance of those hazel eyes. Her only gift was telepathy, but one would not have guessed from her demeanor, which spoke of success wherever she wished it.

She glanced around imperiously, searching for one in charge, and spontaneously decided that as no one in particular seemed inclined to take charge she might as well do it herself.

"Shall we go, then?" Seryl addressed no one in particular, reins gathered in one fist.

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"Ay, ay, big one!" The tall, auburn-haired woman slapped her chestnut gelding on the withers emphatically. "We'll be moving in a moment." The horse blew at her scornfully, but stopped prancing. "Ay, now, that's better." She rubbed his nose absent-mindedly while she checked her gear. It wouldn't do to leave anything vital behind; this was a journey across Riveria into a wasteland - a desert.

Radearle of An had never seen a desert. She'd been told that it was much like the sea, near which she'd grown up - but with sand instead. Was that even possible? Well, she'd find out soon enough.

Her gelding shook his head, drawing her attention. Vigoroso had been a gift from her eldest brother, who claimed that her twelve-year old mare wouldn't last a day on any serious quest. He was probably right.

She checked the quiver and bow at her back, assuring herself that they were secure. Her bowstrings were in oiled pouches on her belt - a bow wasn't much good without a string. Except as a quarterstaff, which she happened to be able to use.

"All right, then." Radearle slipped a foot into the left stirrup and swung up fluidly, arranging her skirt as she sat down.

The half-elven girl, Seryl, whose horse was acting just as impatient as her own felt, spoke up. "Shall we go, then?"

Radearle kept Vigoroso under tight rein, in case he decided to take inspiration from the other horse. "We'll have to start sometime," she called back. "Preferably after we've determined that we've not left anything behind."

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

Yay! I get to make a post on only the second page of the actual start of the RPG!!!

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Damien sat quietly on his tall warhorse, waiting for the other Chosen to finish their preparations. A dark scowl on his face kept any of them from talking to him. As far as he was concerned, the only reason for going along with this plan in the first place was because it might, in the long run, do more damage to the dark things that haunted the shadows around his village. That was where his loyalty rested--with his people. These other folk, these Chosen, were only acceptible as companions because he couldn't do this task alone.

Alone was how he had been raised, and how he had lived, even before his father had disappeared that night in the forest. The life of a warden was a lonely one--companions were unnecessary distractions, whose blunders could cost a warden his life, if he tried to correct them. Occasionally, two wardens would work together to destroy a lair they had discovered, but rarely. It wasn't just the fact that they rarely found a creature's home, but the fact that most of the time, only one warden was needed, or wanted.

So he sat silently on his horse, ignoring the discomfort of the saddle--he preferred his feet--and the unyielding bardings by his stirrups. They were a necessity for all horses who were used by men like him. Horses too were a weakness, and the bardings did a lot to protect them. As for speed, any fool who used a horse in a forest and tried to get speed out of it would discover that he wouldn't go very far at all.

He yearned for his home, and the comfort of a dark forest where everything was against him, with no allies. It would be much preferred.

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