[Roleplay -+IN PROGRESS+-] Journey Across Yggdrasil

[RainbowCherry]

Freja sat atop a barrel thrown out by one of the market-workers, empty of produce or any product of value, but that was of no concern to her, she was just using it as a seat to observe the bustling city, staring at a jester doing a merry jig, playing a flute, smiling dreamily as she observed with her chin on her hands. Her legs naturally swayed back and forth as she watched the jester do his number, as the crowd dropped coins into his hollow headpiece. She stared onwards, watching the crowd roar in excitement as she began to doze off, her vision growing blurry, her pallor mask blocking people from watching her awkwardly attempt to stay awake and observe.

(Absolutely no idea what to post don't kill me please.)

 

[That Zephyr Guy]

Through the cacophony of the crowds voices and bustling, magical energy lightly filled the air and the voices and commotion quieted down. Those who were residents of the town simply waited and listened patiently while those new to the city seemed to be confused and on edge from the sensation. A booming voice bellowed out above the streets and filled the ears of everyone in the city.




"WWWWWWWWWWWelcome to the annual Harvest everyone! The Triad is about to begin its sign-ups, so those of you interested in participating head for the center square! We have 3 competitions this year: a contest of skill, strength and magic! Now, like every year, we won't be revealing the nature of each competition until just before it begins, but if you wish to sign up head to the Eastern Market Square! If you don't know where it is, just follow the crowd! The competition will begin in approximately one hour! Don't be late!"





The magical energy in the air dissipated and almost as though commanded, a rather large majority of the crowd in the street began heading towards a single direction down the streets. The children cheered happily as they ran in and out of the crowd bumping into adults and laughing as they went.



(Sorry if i made it difficult to post. Hopefully this should make it a little easier.)

 

[Nightmares]

Hnghhh I really wanna start, but I'm running low on 4G AGAIN. Hope I don't miss too much ;-;

 

[skarmoury]

Faustina had been back from a nearby forest, holding a basket full of glowing mushrooms, colorful flowers, and scented herbs. Being a resident of the town and seeing the busier-than-usual streets of Dranoir she became aware what time of the year it was: the annual Harvest Festival. Crowding the streets were a mix of old faces, noisy tourists, market stalls and their sellers yelling products, and the ever-present pickpockets who try to act cool.

With a quick swoop, as Faustina was not looking anywhere else but straight ahead, a pickpocket inserted their hand in the right pocket of her dress and promptly walked away, but this gesture, once she had noticed, only caused the woman to laugh; her wallet was in her left pocket. Instead of minding the pickpocket, she just let him go; it wasn't like she was in any position to argue or fight today. That pickpocket just got unlucky, that's all.

Upon reaching her apothecary shop, Faustina sorted out the contents of her basket on the shelves, after which she sat down and took a breather. She then listed the things she had to do. Right after the Harvest Festival, she was sure a surge of orders for potions and elixirs would come, as tourists prepared for a long journey back to where they came from. In addition to that, she was expected to come and gamble tonight; new people meant curious travelers who wanted to see what "lady luck" was made of and what she was all about. Faustina sighed.

A screeching sound from a microphone came up, and a booming voice then echoed throughout the town.

"WWWWWWWWWWWelcome to the annual Harvest everyone! The Triad is about to begin its sign-ups, so those of you interested in participating head for the center square! We have 3 competitions this year: a contest of skill, strength and magic! Now, like every year, we won't be revealing the nature of each competition until just before it begins, but if you wish to sign up head to the Eastern Market Square! If you don't know where it is, just follow the crowd! The competition will begin in approximately one hour! Don't be late!"

At the mention of competitions, Faustina pondered a bit. Every year since she was a child, she went to these sorts of competitions, watching with awe the contestants for each category. She neither had strength nor magic, and her only skill was gambling, which wasn't really something awe-inspiring compared to, say, juggling 10 oranges at a time. Pushing her chair back after finally making up her mind, Faustina stood up and collected her things in a pouch bag. She then left her shop, locking it before heading towards the center square where the waves of crowd were already situated at.
​

(man I hope this is okay ///)

 

[demoness]

Sarai doted over parchment in the Macabra Manor cellar lit only by candlelight. In the darkness, the flames seemed larger than life, commanding the dank catacomb with a hellish ferocity. Surely these lowly halls were haunted by the late Lady Macabra's grisly dealings in artifacts payed in blood. And pay in blood she did, Sarai thought, crossing her arms indignantly. Sarai despised petty lust for power. What more could a hog shoveling its maw with its weight in wealth need? Some people died without ever tasting control of their own destiny. Some had their destiny robbed from them. Sarai had legacy and love bled dry, and gods be struck down if they thought Sarai would let the wolves of the world feast again. She had murdered Lady Macabra. She deserved it. But as Sarai read over Luna's old handwriting, she could only think of one message to leave behind on the parchment: "I'm sorry." She timidly thought of her father's mantra: for the greater good and rose from her chair and walked upstairs into the parlor where she stopped to gaze in the mirror. Offering her reflection a wry but anguished smile, she pulled on her ornate gloves.

"What was it Luna used to say? 'Aw up and at 'em shorty, smile pretty and let's be going!'" Sarai crinkled her nose. "Except you used to make it sound dignified." First thing was first: you don't earn allies or support brooding and holding onto the past. Trudging outside and into the streets, Sarai yanked her green hood over her face. Should anyone have recognized she had posed as city elite for a time, well... Sarai chuckled as she passed fellow magicians amusing onlookers with parlor tricks. "Amateurs," she sniffed. Sarai still could not deny how the festivities reminded her of home, beastly propaganda posters aside. The Caravel Circus had been far more accepting of outsiders. After all, she hailed from the world's only moving town, Cicero. Spectators and eccentric wanders and pastoral peoples demolished and re-erected the village in tandem with the circus movements for centuries, but their lot was especially distrusted being that perfect political neutrality was not only necessary for business, but their very survival. The Caravel's had been presumed killed by breaking this code, but Sarai didn't doubt for a moment that should any power hungry aristocrat or leader discover her identity, she'd be a valuable resource to put them ahead. Sarai narrowed her eyes at some jesters as she weaved into the celebration.

"That is what magicians have become," she murmured, "clowns." Imperial distractions for serfs who would not know a book from a bard's drunken wailing sloshed over paper with crude ink and a crow's backside. Sarai raised her brow as she passed by someone atop a barrel, but she hadn't the time to check if they were feeling alright. Today was-

"WWWWWWWWWWWelcome to the annual Harvest everyone! The Triad is about to begin its sign-ups, so those of you interested in participating head for the center square! We have 3 competitions this year: a contest of skill, strength and magic! Now, like every year, we won't be revealing the nature of each competition until just before it begins, but if you wish to sign up head to the Eastern Market Square! If you don't know where it is, just follow the crowd! The competition will begin in approximately one hour! Don't be late!"

There it was! Her ticket to bigger things. Great people flocked to such events. And companions she was in desperate need of. She wasn't strong or particularly seasoned, but she did have much confidence in the art of magical deception. She needed to catch eyes. Shoving herself between two large men and nearly knocking the wind out of herself, Sarai ran toward the Eastern Market.

"Luna, watch this."

 

[brownboy102]

(Sorry if this first post seems a little bland, I'm not the best when it comes to starting a roleplay..)

Faron listened to the announcer speak. Somewhat interested in what he heard, he headed towards the Eastern Market Square. It looked very crowded, he doubted himself that he would manage to get to sign up before the dawn of tomorrow. He, however, was determined to wait it out. The line moved at a moderate pace, as he waited to get, well, anywhere closer. He was not the most confident in his abilities, as all he could really do was a few tricks with water. He couldn't cause a giant tidal wave out of the tiniest droplet of water, that was too much. All he really knew was the few tomes he read that his parents received as payment when their customers, who were equally as unfortunate as them, could not spare a coin. It was never anything big, and now that his parents grew too old and weak to work at the forge. He had to do whatever he could to support them the same way they supported him, when they went without a meal to let him eat. He was not aiming for the fame or whatever, only to get them some money, if there was even money on the line. He decided to sit in the market for a little while, waiting for something to happen.

 

[That Zephyr Guy]

A portly man wearing a vivid blue cape paced back and forth on a stage in the center of the Eastern Market. Upon his head was a large white hat which seemed a few inches too tall for any reasonable man of his fashion. His face was adorned with a jet black mustache. An impatient look crossed his face as he tapped his foot and pulled out a concealed pocket watch. With a swift motion, he raised his hand up to his throat, and his middle and ring finger touching. A soft azure aura emanated from his forearm and the magical static's presence returned to the air.



"Only 15 more minutes to sign up! Who will our contestants be this year? Will we see forbidden magic? Will we see someone with strength that rivals Tarrasque? Who knows what sort of excitement awaits? Head on over to the Eastern Market and come see for yourself!"



He barely managed to spit the last word out before breaking out into a violent coughing fit that made his face turn a bright scarlet. He tugged at the cloak around his neck for a second before taking in a few breaths of air and recomposing himself.



Meanwhile at one of the sign up counters, a slim man holding a stack of parchment and a quill sorted through the line. On his table was plenty more paper, a wooden box, and a crudely painted sign that had a black star drawn on it with the word "MAGIC" underneath it in messy letters. With a few strokes of the quill, he slid a paper to the side and sighed, looking up at the line.




"Next." He said to the woman with the tattoo, motioning for her to step forward.

He slid him a piece of paper and a quill and regurgitated a very rehearsed set of words.

"If you know how to write please write your name, surname, age, and specialization. If not recite them to me and I'll write them for you."

 

[demoness]

Sarai marched up to the magic line and nearly laughed aloud when she saw the sign.

"Lovely decor," she wanted to say, but thought better of it. Let's not get ourselves paired with something deadly over wisecracks, she thought. Instead, Sarai calmed herself down and assumed a pleasant demeanor. Men that spent on life, judging by his countenance needed one thing, charm. It made sense to Sarai anyway. Sauntering forth once her place in line had reached Mr. Dullard, as Sarai affectionately referred to the attendant, she leaned forward, propping herself up on her elbow against the table and resting her chin against her hand and projecting a "seen it all" coy attitude.

"Hello sir," she smiled and winked, attempting to rest on a crutch of charisma. People called the Caravel family a dangerous sort. The only family who can smile when they're talking you into your demise, an old study tome on Cicero told. Certainly nothing someone in this city would possess; it had probably burned when Svetlana destroyed everything.

"I like to sign up. Unruly day isn't? Let me help you," she said gently, swiping the paper up like a woman with privilege, scribbling her name, Sarai Caravel, her age, and that she was an illusory adept.

"Is that all you need from me?" She had shed hiding from her name for better or worse. Sarai would either be received with warmth or for all she knew, knocked in the head for taking the man's paper. Regardless of her fortune or her folly, truth be told, command of attention is what she was after. She never really could make the distinction between fame and infamy, because to Sarai, the means were always justified to be heroic. All she could think about was how high above her Luna would always be. How perhaps if she'd cared about others instead of herself, had lived up to her potential, she would have deserved the love Luna gave her.
___

(wasn't sure how much initiative to take sorry if too much, not trying to assume control of events)

 

[brownboy102]

(I edited my above post so it would not contradict with the events Zephyr posted after my post.)

Faron waited impatiently in line. The slow-moving line had moved him up to be next in line for the magic competition. He felt like he looked so skinny that he was incapable of doing anything, believing he'd be looked down upon as just a kid who couldn't do anything. He wanted to practice his magic; wanted to prove them wrong, but he knew this was not the time and place for it. Of the few spells he knew, to attack, to gather, and to heal, he knew how to do them as well as he could. Even if the attack was weak, he could only gather very little, and could only heal little by little, he thought he had a chance. He'd be up all night, sitting at his desk under the candlelight, trying to perfect and learn new spells. Even if he could not find anything, he'd at least be better at what he knew.

He looked around him. The marketplace was as lively as ever, filled with goods he could not buy. The stalls were packed with business, whilst his old blacksmith shop he could barely even run sat in the lesser part of the city, without business. There was even a chance that it was being robbed, whilst his helpless, old father sat at home. His mother always ventured into the city to try and find something to put on the table. It was a life he had grown accustomed to, as when his father opened his shop, he had no money to open up a stall in the market place. He was selling his iron straight out of their home. Maybe, once, or if he one the prize money, they would be able to afford to set up shop in the greater part of the city, where they could have some business and live the final years of their lives in luxury, as few as there was. If there was even a prize, of course.

 

[That Zephyr Guy]

(Bump. I won't be posting this weekend since I won't be home but I'm hoping those who haven't made their introduction will find the time to)

 

[demoness]

(that's alright it kinda worked out for me since I'm also busy this weekend)

 

[RainbowCherry]

(That man's face is brilliant.)

Freja's eyes lit up at the round man's booming voice, 'twas fairly amusing to her, as his powerful voice resonated throughout the air, as it did every year. Tossing herself off the barrel, she strolled off to the Eastern Market, imitating the jester's jig, humming his tune. She was not particularly adept in any of the categories, especially not being strong, so she naturally decided to observe and watch all the contestants. She was not one to do anything in such seemingly rowdy and big crowds, and it wasn't as if any talent was going to waste anyway. She smirked softly under her mask, re-adjusting the glassy eye sockets.

 

[skarmoury]

Faustina made her way towards the center square, passing by many jesters and clowns who danced to the rhythm of the lively beat of the festival. The colors and the atmosphere took her back to the days when she'd let go of her mother's hand for a while and dance and sing along with a smile plastered to her face. Even now Faustina would love to do the same, but she hesitated (as do all teenagers who try not to be tempted into acting childish) and instead hummed the tune of the town, slightly tilting her head from left to right.

The center square was filled with numerous people, especially those waiting in line for the sign-ups to the competition. Faustina's eyes lit as she searched the crowd: there were those bulky people flexing their muscles; some were waiving their wands as sparkles flew over them; others were showcasing numerous weapons (Faustina had no idea what they were, though, as these weapos looked overly complicated but really neat); and there was even this one guy actually juggling 10 oranges, even going as far as doing some tricks. The last gesture then reminded Faustian of how uncool her skill was; she only played in the hands of fate, which didn't even merit her the certainty of being actually good in something. It was always the fact that "She got lucky." Her hand reached towrds the deck of cards in her pocket, but immediately retracted it without getting the deck. Once again, she reminded herself, card tricks weren't interesting compared to, say, that man juggling 10 goddamn oranges, especially since she was only relying on luck.

Fautina shook her head; this was no time to look down! It was the Harvest Festival and everyone should be in a lively mood. Besides, her real turf wasn't filled with an audience watching your actions but filled with gambles, scent of whiskey, and the sound of money passed around the table. The thought if that made her giggle as she stood in the audience, waiting for the program to start.
​

 

[tae]

(i'll be able to write tomorrow evening once i'm off the plane, sorry to those who've might have been held up since my absence. i'll return shortly i promise. for now im gonna read what i've missed and i'll have at it. <3 )

 

[That Zephyr Guy]

(Bumping this so I can work on a post tomorrow morning.)

 

[That Zephyr Guy]

The lanky man seated at the registration table looked up at Sarai and took the paper from her. Adding it to the pile with a sigh, he twirled his wrist and pointed off towards the southern side of the plaza where there were a collection of very comical looking folk.

"Head over there with the rest of the contestants. You'll be given further instructions once everyone is signed up."

The man rubbed his fingers against his eyes and looked back up towards the shrinking line, a hint of a smirk growing on his face. He motioned to the man with the large nose waiting next in line.

"Welcome to the magic registration booth. Please write your name and specialty if you know how to write. If not dictate them to me so I can write them for you."





|| Required response: Sparro ||

 

[demoness]

Sarai shot him a calculated, pleasant and pretty smile.

"Much thanks, sir," she cooed, turning sharply on her heel; as she turned around, the difference in her countenance could not have been more stark. Shadows of pride crept over her rosy cheeks as her smile curled upward, spreading hungrily ear to ear, like a snake poised to strike, ready to feast.

"Remember my name," she sniffed, brushing her blonde locks behind her ear and winking at the line. She spotted a young man in the same line, musing over the look of him. At first she wanted to write him off as a destitute passerby with delusions of grandeur, but then she recognized the same look on his face she saw in the mirror every day: true determination. But Sarai had lowered herself to stand among charlatans long enough, and briskly pushed onward to the other contestants. She would likely satisfy curiosity later, for now she needed to mingle among the plodding and beastly clods that called themselves contestants.

She was far more interested in that man and other curious people that seemed to have embedded themselves as spectators. How long until they all crossed paths?

 

[ApolloJusticeAC]

I have a question, so is this a RP mixed with RPG Elements? If it is count me in.

 

[That Zephyr Guy]

I have a question, so is this a RP mixed with RPG Elements? If it is count me in.

(Yes it is. Follow OOC rules please: Speak in parenthesis. Post your sheet.)

 

[brownboy102]

(Sorry for not being able to post any sooner! Bunc of stuff popped up.)

Faron stepped to the front of the line. He listened to what the man had to say, as he recited a line that he must've recited tens of hundreds of times already.

"Welcome to the magic registration booth. Please write your name and specialty if you know how to write. If not dictate them to me so I can write them for you."

Faron took the writing utensil set out for him and wrote, "Name: Faron. Magic specialty: "Hydromancy novice."

He looked back up to the man. "Done." He said. He waited for a response as he stood patiently in line. He continued to observe everything going on around him.

(Sorry, I couldn't really wrote much. I didn't know what to post other than this.)