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Post by Deleted on Aug 20, 2008 17:34:18 GMT -5
I'm really sad now. I know finishing the summary would've taken all of my time for this month and the next, but I was really enjoying it. And now it's all gone. All because someone said it'd be better in Memory Lane. ;_;
Nvrmndtht, though. 'Tis all for the best, I guess. Now I'm free of that responsibility...somewhat. *devious snicker*
I suppose I can start executing my plans now...though I'll have to modify a few things, just to be kind to what fate has given us.
...I still wish I could've read it all, though. -_-
Hey, were all the Horsemen's posts saved, like the first few were? I could at least read those! Those were the best. ^_^
And, um, would Google cached be able help us now, or no?
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Post by Kat on Aug 20, 2008 17:39:36 GMT -5
[shadow=purple,left,300]*hugs Wolfy* Sorry about that. ^^;;;
Well, at least GW2 didn't totally disappear, like into a void of nothingness, right?[/shadow]
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Post by PFA on Aug 20, 2008 17:51:25 GMT -5
While we're gathering tidbits from GW2, I has a few random GW2 quotes among my files I can dig up. XD; I'd hoped that thing had been deleted from existence. >__>;I think I saved that one 'cause my computer crashed on me the first time I wrote it. Sorry, Jer.  [glow=red,2,300]"I would love to stay for dinner," Leraye said, "Particularly to reclaim the useless trinket that your invisible friend has taken from me, but this is neither my time nor my place to die. Our Reaper knows this well." And, without so much as a dramatic flash, Leraye teleported out of the NTWF.[/glow] "Oh yeah, that's definitely much better!"
"Uncle... that storm. Do you see it? There's something odd about it..."
"Your stupid demon thing attacked me!"
"I... we... we heard that the gem can... can bring people back."
"Please, Mr. Gem, we don't mean any harm!"
"Uncle, no! Don't hurt her; that's Bluisa!"
"I can't help him.. I'm no mage, and even if I was, Celestial... Celestial did all she could. I'm sorry, Uncle..."
"Father! Get down! The targets are attacking!"
"Uncle! What happened? Are you alright? Where's Bluisa? How'd you get here? ...Why are you in a ball?"
"...We have to get it away from her. Before it takes over her. Before it takes over the NTWF."
"What's your plan? ...If we're going to be allied, then I need to know what we're doing."
"Afraid of the dark? I'm a ninja. It's practically my job to be in the dark!"
"You idiot! I could have gotten up there just fine if it weren't for you! Why'd you have to go and blow my cover?!"
"This is what I think of your stupid alliance!"
"Any plans? 'Cause we're going to need some, and fast."
"Uncle, you don't have to hide your emotions." |
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Post by Huntress on Aug 20, 2008 18:06:53 GMT -5
GW3: WHERE IN THE WORLD IS GW2?! I still kinda wanted to catch up on what I'd missed D: Oh well. Reality is I'd have never gotten around to it. On that note... I think next time we try to do an all guild's roleplay it could be just a general one. No ultimate goal of war or pre-determined plot line. Afterall.. we can't have a war that ends with "and then we all learned how awsome peace is and how futile war is" one every year. Except that way it'll no longer be a Guild Wars, per se, and calling it Guild Antics would kinda break the pattern we had going x'3 Unless we go for the metaphoric approach. Wolf, I got the final Horsemenpost, actually the epilogue. People were getting nervous.
This was saying something, because it was a rather late hour and everyone had by that point downed a bit too much of that special and exotic brew the tavernkeeper made in a complicated set of barrels and pipes behind the house, and everyone was reaching that point where your tablemate becomes kinda hazy to look at. But they could still see the bartender cruise back and forth between the tables, with his comfortingly familiar and down-to-earth wide smile, dirty apron, and loud jokes. And they could still see that whenever he got a free moment, he sat down behind a table that was clearly empty in that very crowded bar. And when you looked at it this way, it didn't seem that empty at all. And they could definitely hear voices coming from that direction. And even through the haze of alcohol they knew that no voice should sound like that.
Pestilence put a tray on the table.
"A pint of beer and a glass of Perrier with ice," he said, beaming. He was proud of his interestingly rural little tavern, but he was also a former Horseman and when a fellow rider of the Apocalypse asked for a Perrier, he bloody well went and got one. War and Famine pulled their respective mugs closer as the bartender sat down and looked at Death, "You sure you don't want anything? It's on the house."
The reaper looked at him stoically. NO, THANKS.
"Any news from the higher-ups?" Pestilence leaned on the table, turning more serious. "You pretty much blew up TMC. I know he was an arrogant jock, but he was also a Horseman, and we all know how uptight the higher-ups are."
"Eh, it'll be a while until they get the paperwork sorted out and start to look into this," War said through a mouthful of beer foam, "and by then it's so old news that they won't bother any more. S'what they always do. And they won't mess with Death anyway. Nah, my bigger concern is the position of the Fourth Horseman. It's empty right now."
They stared at the table, thinking, then three pairs of eyes - two and a pair of sockets - turned to look at Pestilence.
"No," the latter said firmly. "Not me. I was discarded, remember? Today's world has no place for Pestilence, we have healing mages and an all-land epidemic is thus completely impossible, all that." He shrugged. "I wouldn't come back anyway. I like this life."
THERE HAVE TO BE FOUR, Death said. A WORLD WITH ONLY THREE HORSEMEN ISN'T IN BALANCE.
That was true. All sorts of things could happen that way. None of them had liked TMC, but all of them had agreed that he was necessary.
"Well, there's nothing we can do about it anyway," Famine remarked. "Not until, like, another big war happens or something."
Heads turned at War, who pulled his sword out and examined it critically.
"There's no telling," he said. "This land is a place that cannot be predicted. Where magic and swords rule the lives of men, tomorrow can bring anything."
VERY TRUE, said Death, getting up - a motion the nearest visitors desperately tried to ignore. BUT FOR NOW, I SHOULD BE OFF.
"Hrm, yeah, same," War grunted, emptying his mug. Famine got up with the others.
"Don't be strangers then," said Pestilence.
THE WAR IS OVER. WE CANNOT MEET AGAIN UNTIL THE NEW APOCALYPSE LOOMS. Death's voice had a hint of regret in it.
"Eh, well, that," said the barkeeper, "but you can all still come and meet me every once in a while, innit?"
That was an argument. The Horsemen grinned, patting each other on the backs. Sometimes their jobs didn't seem as annoying and tedious as usually.
Pestilence saw them out and stood watching on the doorway as the three horses galloped off, each in their own direction and dimension. There had been a time when he was among them, on his bay clydesdale, wearing the white circlet...
"Something the matter, honey?" It was his wife, having showed up next to him from the kitchen a few feet away. "Miss the old times?"
Pestilence turned to look at her, that amiable, worried face lit by the orange light of the candles inside, and the crowd of chatting locals he could see through the doorway. Most of them were his friends, they'd show him pictures of their kids, invite him in when he passed their houses, sometimes sit in his bar until the morning, drowning their sorrows and lamenting their failed crops or mortally ill wives even healers could no longer help - the latter occasionally being followed by miraculous recoveries, although Pestilence wouldn't have been caught dead admitting that he'd had anything to do with it...
He smiled.
"They're nice memories," he said, "but they're memories. I like this world, and this life. Who wouldn't?"
They shared a friendly, been-married-for-a-thousand-years type kiss and went back inside, back to normal life - something they both knew how to value. Together with the finale-pic, that's about all I got saved >>; Funny, usually I hoard more stuff. |
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Post by Deleted on Aug 20, 2008 18:14:21 GMT -5
Wolf, I got the final Horsemenpost, actually the epilogue. People were getting nervous.
This was saying something, because it was a rather late hour and everyone had by that point downed a bit too much of that special and exotic brew the tavernkeeper made in a complicated set of barrels and pipes behind the house, and everyone was reaching that point where your tablemate becomes kinda hazy to look at. But they could still see the bartender cruise back and forth between the tables, with his comfortingly familiar and down-to-earth wide smile, dirty apron, and loud jokes. And they could still see that whenever he got a free moment, he sat down behind a table that was clearly empty in that very crowded bar. And when you looked at it this way, it didn't seem that empty at all. And they could definitely hear voices coming from that direction. And even through the haze of alcohol they knew that no voice should sound like that.
Pestilence put a tray on the table.
"A pint of beer and a glass of Perrier with ice," he said, beaming. He was proud of his interestingly rural little tavern, but he was also a former Horseman and when a fellow rider of the Apocalypse asked for a Perrier, he bloody well went and got one. War and Famine pulled their respective mugs closer as the bartender sat down and looked at Death, "You sure you don't want anything? It's on the house."
The reaper looked at him stoically. NO, THANKS.
"Any news from the higher-ups?" Pestilence leaned on the table, turning more serious. "You pretty much blew up TMC. I know he was an arrogant jock, but he was also a Horseman, and we all know how uptight the higher-ups are."
"Eh, it'll be a while until they get the paperwork sorted out and start to look into this," War said through a mouthful of beer foam, "and by then it's so old news that they won't bother any more. S'what they always do. And they won't mess with Death anyway. Nah, my bigger concern is the position of the Fourth Horseman. It's empty right now."
They stared at the table, thinking, then three pairs of eyes - two and a pair of sockets - turned to look at Pestilence.
"No," the latter said firmly. "Not me. I was discarded, remember? Today's world has no place for Pestilence, we have healing mages and an all-land epidemic is thus completely impossible, all that." He shrugged. "I wouldn't come back anyway. I like this life."
THERE HAVE TO BE FOUR, Death said. A WORLD WITH ONLY THREE HORSEMEN ISN'T IN BALANCE.
That was true. All sorts of things could happen that way. None of them had liked TMC, but all of them had agreed that he was necessary.
"Well, there's nothing we can do about it anyway," Famine remarked. "Not until, like, another big war happens or something."
Heads turned at War, who pulled his sword out and examined it critically.
"There's no telling," he said. "This land is a place that cannot be predicted. Where magic and swords rule the lives of men, tomorrow can bring anything."
VERY TRUE, said Death, getting up - a motion the nearest visitors desperately tried to ignore. BUT FOR NOW, I SHOULD BE OFF.
"Hrm, yeah, same," War grunted, emptying his mug. Famine got up with the others.
"Don't be strangers then," said Pestilence.
THE WAR IS OVER. WE CANNOT MEET AGAIN UNTIL THE NEW APOCALYPSE LOOMS. Death's voice had a hint of regret in it.
"Eh, well, that," said the barkeeper, "but you can all still come and meet me every once in a while, innit?"
That was an argument. The Horsemen grinned, patting each other on the backs. Sometimes their jobs didn't seem as annoying and tedious as usually.
Pestilence saw them out and stood watching on the doorway as the three horses galloped off, each in their own direction and dimension. There had been a time when he was among them, on his bay clydesdale, wearing the white circlet...
"Something the matter, honey?" It was his wife, having showed up next to him from the kitchen a few feet away. "Miss the old times?"
Pestilence turned to look at her, that amiable, worried face lit by the orange light of the candles inside, and the crowd of chatting locals he could see through the doorway. Most of them were his friends, they'd show him pictures of their kids, invite him in when he passed their houses, sometimes sit in his bar until the morning, drowning their sorrows and lamenting their failed crops or mortally ill wives even healers could no longer help - the latter occasionally being followed by miraculous recoveries, although Pestilence wouldn't have been caught dead admitting that he'd had anything to do with it...
He smiled.
"They're nice memories," he said, "but they're memories. I like this world, and this life. Who wouldn't?"
They shared a friendly, been-married-for-a-thousand-years type kiss and went back inside, back to normal life - something they both knew how to value. Together with the finale-pic, that's about all I got saved >>; Funny, usually I hoard more stuff. Yay!!!! ^_^ I have all of Wolf's/Naft Ali's posts saved (I always save anything significant I post online in MS Word, just to be sure), but considering the small role that either had (except in backstory), I don't find it worth reposting any of them here. Anyways, I'm going to read this, then I'll be off to finish the summary once and for all. :) Not how I had originally intended to, of course, but definitely the next best thing. ~_^ |
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Post by Fraze on Aug 20, 2008 18:24:48 GMT -5
*Sigh* I leave for a week, and you kids trash the forum while I'm gone. Well, I suppose we'll always have the memories. At least the 4th Wall post is saved, that's the only one I wrote that I particularly wanted saved. ...Yeah, I'm sure most of you knew I did the 4th Wall post that's now residing in GW MQ. But I'll put it here anyway since everyone's doing it it's probably been forgotten. The Fourth Wall lay in a corner, sobbing. It was battered and bruised, having been stomped on, broken, mangled, and generally abused. After all it had done for these people--why did they torture it so?
From afar, there came an almost audible snap. The Fourth Wall's tears ceased. The corners of its mouth twitched upward, almost imperceptibly. Slowly, slowly, a smile spread across its face--no, not a smile, a leer. The leer of one who had descended into true madness. It would have its revenge...it would have its revenge on all of them! It knew just how to do it.
Temporary suspension of disbelief. That force that allowed every fantastic and semingly impossible event to occur. The Fourth Wall had granted it to the RPers, and it could take it away as well.
It struck first at the Pirates' ship. That red caped pirate had given it the most abuse. The mist vanished surrounding the ship vanished as though it had never existed. The fire damage that the ship had suffered at the beginning of the RP returned and, having no mist to support it, the ship snapped cleanly in two. Many drowned; those that did not drown, went mad drifting on the sea for days and weeks.
Its next target was Mage Manor. The magic that allowed the overlapping probability waves of the Manor's myriad hallways, stairways, and secret passages collapsed (because no one really gets that probability wave junk anyway). The Manor found it was now unable to fit twenty bricks in the space of one, and exploded under its newly created pressure.
The Fourth Wall next attacked Spacefleet. Its many flying machines ceased to function, careening out of the sky and crashing into the ground. The 'Fleet's exotic superweapons stopped working, or in some cases disappeared completely. The Spacefleet HQ's forcefields and security barriers vanished, and the atmosphere in the massive compound escaped in a matter of minutes. Those creatures that needed atmosphere quickly died of suffocation or explosive decompression, those that didn't need atmosphere didn't exist anyway, and themselves ceased to exist.
It didn't do anything to the Knights' castle, that had already gotten enough abuse. And no one really cares about the Ninjas or Mercs.
A laugh escaped the Fourth Wall's lips. The laugh grew louder, louder, filling the void left behind by its destruction, echoing off the empty RP. And as quickly as it came, the laugh ceased.
By making this post, the Fourth Wall had broken the Fourth Wall. It had broken itself. Unable to comprehend this paradox, the Fourth Wall collapsed in on itself, forming a black hole that devoured the NTWF. [glow=red,2,300]Heh, I guess my post wasn't as specific as I thought it was. Yeah, i tried to ML it and it exploded on me. >.>; It's 170+ pages of long, detailed posts. We only ever let the 'bloids get to 150. But yes, thanks for the retrieving of the bits and pieces. ^_^; Also, Keng, we've been talking about skirmish-RPs, which take place between 2 or 3 guilds. The first one will be with the pirates and Spacefleet, actually. It'll center around Cyborg and whether or not he'll re-join the Pirates. ^_^ *wonders if we've actually asked any Fleet about this* >.>;[/glow] Hunty and I have discussed it, and I sent PMs out to all the 'Fleeters I could think of. So yes, most of the 'Fleet should know about it. Though I'll be mostly without interwebs until I can get them set up in my apartment on the 26th. I'm on the campus network now, but I won't be able to do that much. I'd much prefer to wait at least three weeks to a month before starting the 'Fleet/Pirates RP, for several reasons that may or may not include 18 credits of upper division math and physics classes, a 10 hour a week research internship, and barely enough time for trivial things like eating and going to the bathroom. |
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Post by Omni on Aug 20, 2008 19:33:17 GMT -5
Speaking of gathering fragments of the past *WoW'd*, I found two more screenshots.  I'm pretty sure they are both of posts where the final version ended up different. |
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Post by Deleted on Aug 20, 2008 19:36:19 GMT -5
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Post by Fraze on Aug 22, 2008 1:14:41 GMT -5
For some reason, my epilogue post shows up in the Search function. *C&Ps* ((The Golden Mast))
For what seemed like the first time, Fraze saw the pirate captain smile. "Clearly you've never been to Tabloid Town."
"I've read some of the more interesting reports," he said, not sure if he was talking to himself or her.
She didn't respond, busy hailing her crew. But before she turned and walked away, she looked back at him. "Take care, and hope we won't meet again. It'd mean nothing but trouble."
It was Fraze's turn to smile. "The universe is ruled by irony. I'm sure we'll see each other at some point."
Everyone was dispersing. Tensions were settling. Fraze went back to the dropship. Amneiger was bound by vines. Fraze decided not to release Amnei the same way he had released himself--a flechette cloud would do his friend more harm than good. He settled for cursing under his breath, finding a knife, and cutting the bonds.
The rest of the time on the surface was a haze. Fraze found the other 'Fleeters, loaded them all into Zari's dropship along with the bike, and headed off. Fraze wolfed down the rest of his food in transit. The cafeteria in Spacefleet was mediocre, so this meal was heaven to him.
Once he got back to his quarters at Spacefleet, Fraze fell into bed--not even bothering to take off his skinsuit--and slept for 36 hours.
-----------
Stardate: Friday, around lunchtime
That joke never gets old. In the past few weeks, we've all recovered from the planetside war and life has returned to normal. Zari and her clones are running around with some sort of transmorphic goop and sloshing it all over people, Bacon is upgrading his ship to make the exhaust valves or something work as an oven, Amneiger is developing a robotic rubber chicken that doubles as a spy satellite, I've got no idea what Ethan is doing, and I'm working on fine-tuning my Table. The damage it received on one side from the crash caused by the Commander's impact is almost fixed.
The negotiations with the Mages went well. We've begun some intellectual and physical exchange with them, which has benefited the knowledge of both guilds incredibly. We have a few of their mages here now, and we have posted a few of the more diplomatically inclined 'Fleeters at Mage Manor. These 'Fleeters have begun teaching the farmers of Dunbarrow how to use the farming equipment we've given them, with only partial success. We're getting some very interesting reports in about that.
I don't know much about the tests being done on the bike. All I know is what has been released to both the 'Fleet as a whole and to the planet. It appears to have one-half of a mobile wormhole built into it, which allows it to travel freely across space and time--and, our scientists theorize, to other universes completely. Time seems to act funny around it, not unlike some strange structures that move backward through time on a planet whose name now escapes me.
Apparently the pirates were able to capture the escaped mercenaries. Why a guild that relies on other guilds to get money is so willing to make enemies is beyond me.
I don't know what the word is on the Commander. Rumors are flying at speeds that violate the laws of relativity. Some say he vanished when the gem was destroyed. I know that isn't true--I saw it, and he was there, but I haven't been able to quell that particular rumor. Others say he got crushed in a stone ball he built around himself. I might have been partially responsible for starting that one, though I didn't intend to. Other people say he vanished, and still others say he's actually here, but for some reason doesn't want to make himself known to us again just yet. I'm not sure what I believe.
Strange as it is, part of me misses the Pirates. Their candor and lack of subtlety impressed me, even--especially--when they were giving unpleasant information. Our 'Fleeters stationed with the Mages have told us that some of the pirates are trying to contact us. For whatever reason, the 'Fleeters stationed planetside have been told not to relay any messages. Stupid decision if anyone asked me, but there isn't anything I can do. I'd make contact myself if I wasn't already under watch. My pot has been taken off the burner, but I'm still in hot water.
Life is boring. After so much excitement, I'm glad. We were at war with the planet we're sworn to protect. In a way, that was far more difficult than battling some species I've hardly ever seen before from a planet thousands of light-years away. This has become my home during the time I've been here, something I can't say about any of the other places I've been stationed.
I'm considering resigning from the military that posted me here, and joining Spacefleet full-time. So many other, more advanced civilizations think the NTWF is quaint and uncivilized--its inhabitants still use magic and swords, castles and wooden boats. But I've come to understand that this planet is advanced in its own way, precisely because its inhabitants still use magic and swords, castles and wooden boats.
I think I like it here. |
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Post by Tam on Aug 22, 2008 1:40:29 GMT -5
I have most of my posts saved to my computer, including a few of the first Invisible Guild ones, although they're only really useful for the first thirty-forty pages or so. I think I'm missing two posts: the first mention of the Advance Guard, and the first half of Ielle and Forest's conversation. Those are saved too, but they're on a USB stick, since I typed them on a school computer. They're Word files, which my Mac won't open -- but hopefully I can open them with a different program. I'll need to play around with it. Although the vast, dome-roofed chamber was painstakingly-crafted from stone, and could probably have held an entire court of nobles comfortably, now it was derelict, crumbling, and all but empty. The throne had been removed from its far end, and instead, a circular table, not unlike the one used for the Knights’ council meetings, had been placed upon the low dais, framed by a large banner draped across the back wall that read “Cohors Invisibilis”. Two men were grouped around this table -- one, well-dressed in a noble’s tunic and an elegantly feathered pirate’s hat and obviously higher ranked, was pacing restlessly while the other, a small, wiry man with brown skin, was seated nervously on the edge of a chair.
“So. Evan Forest has betrayed us.”
“Yes, m’lord,” the wiry man stammered. “As far as I can tell, he has joined forces with Lord Shino, the Steward of Dunburrow.”
“As far as you can tell,” the other man mocked. “But you have said yourself that your... your psychic powers are unfortunately limited, correct?” The other man looked positively terrified. “So let me ask you once more -- are you sure, beyond any reasonable doubt, that Forest has left us? The man liked his little games, if you’ll remember. The Knights never knew a rogue like him in all their generations of Black Knights. Our numbers are shrinking, Avelin... I would hate to be the one whose idea it was to eliminate one of the few men still devoted to the Invisible Guild....”
“No,” Avelin said quickly. “I saw it on his face... I... I used to be a knight alongside him, m’lord. I’m sure of it -- Evan Forest has betrayed us.”
The man in the red tunic was silent for a moment, his pacing halted. “Very well,” he said finally. “So he has chosen death over exile from the Knights. What of the other matter, these... these messages in our minds?”
“Well, sir... only a few of us seem to have received the ultimatum, like you, m’lord --” Avelin, seeing the former pirate lord’s dark expression, continued hastily, “-- only those of us who still, for some reason or another, share some ties with our old guilds.”
“And what of the sender? And without the mage-talk rubbish this time, Avelin.”
The smaller man, who had not received the message, had at first thought his Lord was mad. Upon later investigation, however, it was revealed to him that approximately a dozen of the Invisibles had also heard the message. “Some of the former Knights believe it was sent by a knight at the Castle -- a demonologist named Winterstone. I am not familiar with the man, but the others seemed adamant.”
“So a war is imminent,” the Lord mused. “It may be easier to wipe out these guilds than I had originally thought. Avelin, do we have the forces to meet them in battle? Tonight?”
“We have over five score, m’lord, all with inside knowledge of the guilds and all itching for war.”
“Good. Give them the message, then. And Avelin -- make sure Evan Forest is taken care of immediately. If the noble Steward of Dunburrow is with him, destroy them both. I don’t want to leave any loose ends that could leave us vulnerable to attack.”
“Yes sir.” Avelin jogged briskly from the room, glad to be out of his Lord’s sight.
The former pirate smiled softly to himself, reflecting on how he would relish the chance for revenge on the Pirates, not to mention all the other guilds who ignorantly lived on, despite the suffering of their abandoned allies. Yes, he mused to himself, yes, why not make it a three-way war. After all, the world was changing. What would be the harm in speeding up the process? So this is what became of the great Winterstone.
Tigereye cursed softly under his breath as the night’s events unfolded before him. Death, murder and sacrifice. As tragic as it may have seemed to the guildlings present, to a warrior of his caliber the scene did nothing but reinforce the unshakable truth that he had been aware of for decades: the Knights were weak. Chivalry may be a fine thing to fill up fairy tales, the Advance Guard leader thought, but in this world it means less than the ink it’s written in.
And then, in a flash of fiery light, the three were alone in the sudden darkness. Grimacing crookedly, Tigereye turned away. The Lord of the Invisible Guild would not be pleased with this turn. Well, he should have known better than to try bargaining with a Knight.
“Sickle.”
The mage glanced up at him, her normally attractive face contorted with barely disguised rage. Her palms glowed softly as a tribute to her frustration.
“Where did they go?”
“Teleport,” she said in a hiss. “Fire magic of some kind.”
“Can you trace them?” Tigereye inquired evenly.
“No,” she managed in a low snarl.
“Who can?” The man waited, but she did not reply. The corner of his mouth twitching, he took a step forward so that his scarred face would be visible in the faint light of her magic. “Who can?”
But the mage was done talking. Tigereye shot the girl a contemptuous glare, and instead approached Oak, who was more likely to listen. “Is there any way we can follow them? They have the jewel.”
Slowly, the big pirate shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I don’t know much about magicks,” he said.
Rather than be forced to look up at Oak for another moment, the shorter man spun away angrily, his brown cloak sweeping behind him.
“Tigereye,” the pirate said in a firm, deep voice. “Why does the Lord want the jewel back?”
The group’s leader sneered and was about to make a scorching rebuke; however, something stopped him. Even Sickle was looking up at him, and for once, intrigue shone stronger in her eyes than malice. Perhaps they did have the right to know, if they were to be the ones who hunted it.
“A bargaining piece,” Tigereye said finally. “Neither he nor I know anything of the magic associated with it, but it is still the most powerful bargaining piece available to us. Forest’s idea was a good one -- leave it in the field with the gun and let the guilds wipe each other out over it -- but he didn’t anticipate these complications. The jewel’s power isn’t going to be enough to destroy the guilds. We need more time, and as long as we’re in possession of that gem, we have the upper hand.”
“Forest was a traitor,” Sickle grumbled. “We should never have agreed to his plan.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that now,” Tigereye snapped. “There’s a bounty on his head even as we speak. Our mission lies with that gem, and right now, the only one on our side who can tell us where to look for it is lounging around back at the Invisible Guild.”
“Avelin,” growled Oak. The scrawny psychic was not held in high esteem by many in the Invisible Guild.
“Avelin.” Tigereye nodded resentfully. “As I said, our only option.” Without waiting for the others’ approval, he strode off in the direction of the southern woods. “We’re going back to our castle.” "Thank you anyway," the girl called Ielle said tightly. Evan Forest just smirked and watched coolly as her body disappeared in a flash of purple smoke. The guilds were spawning stranger folk by the day, it seemed.
He had just begun turning away when a faint glimmer in the grass attracted his gaze. Caught in the moonlight was the golden locket Ielle had shown him just moments ago, the one with the picture of the dark-haired girl.
The poor fool, Forest thought without much sympathy, wondering how long it would take the blonde girl to notice her trinket was missing. He slipped the locket inside his robes casually; if he should somehow stumble across the girl depicted in it, he would most certainly question her about it. For the time being, however, it didn’t concern him.
What did concern him presently was the sharp pressure of a blade being whisked up around his throat.
“I’m under orders to kill you, Forest, and although I would normally do so without this useless talking, I feel obliged to admit my disappointment in you,” a gravely voice whispered in his ear. “You should have expected this.”
Forest gave a lopsided grin, lowering his arms to his sides. He flicked his fingers absently. “What makes you think I didn’t?”
The unknown assailant chuckled shortly. “I’m a ninja, Forest. You can’t play me like the others.”
“You’re no more a ninja than I am a knight,” Forest said pleasantly. A small switchblade slipped slowly from the inside hem of his right sleeve into his waiting hand. “Those titles mean nothing. When you live like we do, all that matters is the stuff you’re made of--”
In one incredible flash of motion, the blade Forest had retrieved was between his neck and the attacker’s own knife. Taking care to flick the other knife away from his throat, he deliberately nicked the wrist of the ex-ninja and twisted away from his grasp. His attacker, a silver-skinned being who looked to be at least partially elven, grunted in pain and clutched his injured wrist. The knife fell from his hand, and Forest picked it up easily. The elf from the Invisible Guild was swaying on the spot.
“Or lack thereof,” he smirked, twirling the new knife deftly before concealing it within his robes.
“darn it, Forest -- you’re smug now, but this is far from over. There’s four more from the Guild right behind me, and even without them I could still... still....” The elf’s eyes crossed vaguely and he stumbled to the ground with a moan.
“Oh, by the way, you’ve been poisoned. It would probably be wise to act accordingly,” Forest suggested helpfully. As a precaution, he flung the poisoned switchblade into the ground a good distance from the felled ex-ninja. No sense giving them something to trace, he thought. He had no doubts that the Invisible Guild had indeed sent a full team immediately behind this assassin, who was probably little more than a scout. After all, Evan Forest was one of the best.
But something seemed wrong to the former Black Knight. It was true that Forest was not proficient with magic, but he had always had a distinctly mage-like sense when it came to detecting various elements in his immediate surroundings. He carried a lot of concealed weapons, but that switchblade was the only one that he had wiped with poison -- and yet, even after disposing of it, he could still pick up the signature taint of poison radiating from somewhere on his person. Frowning and doing his best to ignore the groaning elf before him, he probed deep inside his sixth sense, searching for the source of the mysterious taint.
Seconds later, he whipped a dagger out from the folds of his robe. The elf looked up with something like dazed panic, but seemed relieved when Forest merely threw the dagger to the grass in disgust.
Impossible, Forest snarled to himself. How could I have missed this? The poisonous remnants on the dagger were of a magical variety, the kind designed to infect a specific person or place -- not the basic chemical poison Forest would have used himself. Someone from within the Invisible Guild had used him, used him to carry the poison magic to someone in particular... The girl from the Knights’ Guild, he realized dully. He had stabbed her with the infected blade, and she would have carried the poison back to the knights’ castle, where it would destroy them from the inside out.
In a fury, Evan Forest swung himself onto Bianco, the fine white stallion. Sir Shino would just have to understand. He had no desire to cross the White Knight so soon after their reunion, but right now, the most important thing was for him to get away.
“Tell your friends that it was a simple nightshade extract you were exposed to. If there’s a decent healer among them, you’ll undoubtedly be fine.” He wrapped Bianco’s reins around his hands securely, ready to spur the horse into a gallop. “And tell that rat Avelin that his little trick with the poison magic will not go ignored.” I also have every post written from Tamia's perspective, including the ones that introduce Forest and the Invisible Guild and the airborne poison at Castle Kestrel and such. If you want any of those, I can post them too. |
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Post by Rikku on Aug 22, 2008 1:45:15 GMT -5
I have all of Rikku's posts from when she ran off into the forest onwards, and a decent chunk of Invisible ones, saved on Notepad.
... Not sure if they'll be any help, but they're there.
Yup.
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Post by Huntress on Aug 22, 2008 8:47:56 GMT -5
For some reason, my epilogue post shows up in the Search function. *C&Ps* *searches outta curiosity* Blazing hellhounds, you're right o__o The thread isn't completely gone, the posts are saved in some kind of a cache. I managed to get (and copypasta) a number of last posts (and I'd probably get more, if I searched for more posts in a wider range). Hnm. I'll bring this up in the southern office and see if there's anything that can be done. Don't get your hopes up, but it's worth looking into. |
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Post by Bacon on Aug 22, 2008 9:16:37 GMT -5
Bacon is upgrading his ship to make the exhaust valves or something work as an oven, Exhaust vents as an oven? And intoxicate perfectly good food not to mention the air supply of the room? You must be daft, I'd never do that. An oven's a good idea, but not one made out of scratch. |
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Post by PFA on Aug 22, 2008 9:55:47 GMT -5
Whoa, the posts still live in the forum's search engine?  *also tries searching out of curiosity* ...I'll have you know I am currently in the process of copy-pasting the last 500 posts of GW2 into TextEdit. >_> And I kid you not, that's going almost far enough back to pick up where Wolf left off in the summary. |
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Post by Huntress on Aug 22, 2008 9:59:57 GMT -5
Whoa, the posts still live in the forum's search engine? *also tries searching out of curiosity* ...I'll have you know I am currently in the process of copy-pasting the last 500 posts of GW2 into TextEdit. >_> And I kid you not, that's going almost far enough back to pick up where Wolf left off in the summary. x'D At this rate it'd be easier to wait and see if it's possible to bring the thread back. It seems to exist in Memory Lane somehow in a corrupted form, and if the posts exist, I don't see why it wouldn't be possible. But I'm not very Proboards-support-savvy, so I'm leaving it to someone who actually knows what they're doing. In other words, let's wait and see, people. |
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*also tries searching out of curiosity*