Author Topic: Memories  (Read 879 times)


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« Topic Start: May 31, 2012, 08:46:05 AM »
A set of role plays I'm writing about my characters who are both really old and have seen a whole lot. Feel free to critique or comment!

Roleplay from Torsaan ka Habb   (4 hours, 25 minutes ago)
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High in the crags of Eagle's Glen, Torsaan sits meditating. He has hiked an hour or so from his encampment alone. His retinue is probably enjoying dinner, but Torsaan felt obliged to leave and wander. In his Eaglin Estate they are probably having a great feast with music and dancing. Torsaan however is sitting high in the mountains, shivering as the wind blows through him. He is old now, his beard long since silvered. He hasn't shaved his head in some time, his tight curly hair is also silver. His sight is failing him. The healers say it is age, other priests suggest it his connection to God or perhaps a curse from the Mapaxilists.

Though he usually wears an extravagant robe of red, purple, and gold, Torsaan is wearing a robe of purple and white. White, emptiness, Purple, royalty. It is perhaps fitting. He sometimes thinks of his brothers. Xanio is long since dead. Though it is not custom, Torsaan wishes that a monument was built. Somewhere he could feel connected to him. It seems so long ago that he received the news that he was slain in Amdor. Horace, another faithful, was killed in the melee but Xanio was killed charging the walls. The allied forces had pulled back but Xanio thought otherwise. He rallied his men ahead and 42 of them charged the walls. They managed to climb them, but Xanio was knocked off and then buried in arrows.

They say he is a god now. Both of them. Torsaan is told he is a living god, and when he ascends to their heavenly plane he will share in their great powers. Xanio is a god now. Xanio-Kargnchha is prayed to by some in times of fear when bravery is needed. Torsaan wonders what sort of God can barely read anymore. Torsaan wonders how his brother, his brashness, his humour, his anger, his kindness, his eccentricities can all be distilled down to Xanio the Valiant, Kargnchha of The Word. Some strange idol, some caricature of the man that was, the man long since decayed and eaten by lizards and vultures.

Torsaan thinks about his other brother, Karibash. Strange man he was. They did not see each other as much as he saw Xanio, but Xanio loved him as closely as he did Torsaan. The strongest, the fiercest, superlatives were the only descriptors. Torsaan wonders what his brother looks like now.

Hundreds of years ago, his own ancestor hung from one the cliffs here for days until he had a vision. That is how The Word began.

Strange. Torsaan rubs his beard.

Roleplay from Karibash ka Habb   (just sent)
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Karibash sits at his Eidulb estate. It overlooks the harbour and is an old building, built during the Everguard days. He thinks back to the South-East. Born in Neralle, he can only think of the forests. Thick, lush leaves adorning great and massive trees of all kinds. Sometimes he and his friends would climb as high as they could, more a test of bravery than climbing ability. Karibash would sometimes win, sometimes lose. He didn't mind. It was the hand he was given. He lived blissfully. Incongruous, with the wars that raged around him. It didn't matter, hide in the trees, hide in the cupboard, pick up that dagger and Tor forbid any man walks in. His mother was a minor noble. A pleasant lady, he lived comfortably. Then at age 6 he was sent to the Toren Stronghold high in the mountains. Military academy, so he may one day lead great armies and not just fight like some fool. Karibash remembers the strictness, the rigour, the lessons. He merely wished to learn how to fight: wrestling, duelling, sword play, shield work. Not foolish maths.

Karibash smiles. He was a terrible student. But it all changed when his father arrived. Not much past 8 years old and whisked away by the dark man from over the seas. He had only heard of him through his mother, some minor noble in a far off desert. But he was the descendant of great and powerful kings. Warriors who had slain hundreds of men. Fierce beings of legend amongst his tribe. And so he travelled with his father. The sights he saw. Sirion, Isadril, Fontan, massive cities. And he toured through Atamara too, York, Suville, Metemec, Strombran, Barad Falas. He met some of his family, learning that he was the second of three brothers but only meeting the younger one In the forests of Tara. One day though, his father told him his mother was angry and that he would have to return to Neralle. His desire to know more of his past quenched, he obliged. And he was happy. He found some of his old friends still living and made new ones. His father returned, this time with the other brother. Xanio.

Karibash will never forget the day he met his older brother. Though Karibash was massively tall, Xanio was taller still. Though Xanio was far skinnier than Karibash, he walked with a confidence unlike anyone else and for the first time in his life Karibash felt small. Where Karibash was quiet, Xanio was loud and bombastic. He quickly became leader of the group. Karibash would lose at checkers, laugh and say good game. Xanio would become enraged and flip the board screaming curses, and just as quickly as he flew into a rage he would be all smiles and laughter again. They became fast friends, seemingly polar opposites, but Karibash understood. Xanio was smart. Ridiculously so. Cunning. Crafty. Charismatic. Things Karibash aspired to be. Things Karibash believed the descendants of warrior-kings ought to be.

Xanio was smuggled out of the South-East late at night. Karibash had been seen in a compromising situation and the son of a lord threatened to expose him unless he provided a sum of 200 gold. Confiding in Xanio, Xanio stormed out to protect his younger brother. A heated argument, the flash of daggers, and suddenly the son of the lord laid with his guts spilled. Karibash and Xanio would never see each other again, though they exchanged letters regularly. It was difficult when Karibash learned of Xanio's death. But it was fitting. Facing 900 Falasani warriors, Xanio simply laughed and scaled the walls. The funeral was not difficult for Karibash, merely the fact that he couldn't see the face of his beloved brother again. So strange, so characteristic of him. In all his intelligence, Karibash could never explain why Xanio would charge 900 men besides "it seems a Xanio thing to do".

Karibash is old now. His hair silvered, though he shaves it bald. His goatee is growing more unkempt, he can't be bothered recently. His body is a canvas of old scars. He is no longer the giant intimidating man he once was. Descendant of desert warriors and Toren berserkers, now a withering old man. Fitting though. Xanio, in all his greatness, all his glory, could not handle the simple confines of this world. He had to expand, grow, push. And so he left the world in a fitting fashion. Karibash though, he was different. He could bear it. Like steel, he weathers year after year, blow after blow, ache after ache. Xanio was what the world needed, Karibash what it deserved. Flamboyance and talent versus perseverance and endurance.

Karibash wonders what his younger brother looks like, Torsaan. He had last seen him when Xanio died. Met his son there too. Karibash could never discern his motives. Xanio would describe Torsaan as a man yearning for greatness, but unsure where to look. The smartest of them all though, by far. Smarter than Xanio even.

The ships blow through the harbour in Eidulb. It is a sight he has seen, many years before. Nothing truly changes, simply the players. Strange.


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Re: Memories
« Reply #1: May 31, 2012, 09:02:35 AM »
:) Good RP. Poor old Karibash. Too old to participate in a battle.


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Re: Memories
« Reply #2: June 07, 2012, 11:35:30 PM »
This was written after Karibash was seriously wounded in a training match with Kihalin!

Roleplay from Karibash ka Habb   (38 days, 15 hours ago)
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Karibash and Kihalin meet for the arranged training match. Karibash has chosen a sword and shield, Kihalin simply a sword. "Don't underestimate an old man now!" Karibash calls with a laugh and a smile. It fades quickly as he charges towards Kihalin.

The Evil Knockers charge forwards toward the Taselakian ranks. They are in Lesthem. The fog is thick, as always, and the band of warriors has ambushed the Taselakians. Karibash is at the front of his men, beckoning them forwards. Sprinting forwards from the trench, they cry out as they flank their foe. A snarl is the last sight for many a Taselakian warrior that day, and a sword the last thing through their head.

Caught by surprise from the sudden speed and aggression, Kihalin only narrowly side steps the charging shield swipe. Karibash throws an overhead swipe which is skillfully caught by Kihalin, who responds with a stomp on his toes.

The Sandalakians once more attack the Cave of Guilt. But the Toren are ready. They have maintained their defensive positions and the Sandalakians are being slaughtered piecemeal. Karibash throws an overhead swipe at one which is caught on the warrior's axe. In fear of the giant, snarling Toren in front of him, he stomps on Karibash's foot. Karibash bashes the warrior in the face with his shield, then stomps the poor man's face until his brain is leaking across the battlements.

Karibash steps back and laughs, but with a smack of his sword on his shield he is all business once more. Shield up, he steps forward with a lunging strike. Kihalin has leaned to the side and attempted to stab around the shield, but Karibash pushes down Kihalin's blade, and wheeling about Karibash goes for the kill.

They are fighting in Riakond. Deep in the dark forest they have met the Ikalakian army. He led the charge as usual, but fighting has broken into a disorganized melee. Shield up, he steps forward with a lunging strike. The Ikalakian stumbles onto the ground and experiences Karibash's sword through his gut pinning him into the earth. His friend has heard his cry and slashed Karibash's sword arm. The sword has buried itself in the bone and the frightened Ikalakian cannot pull it out. Crying out in rage and pain, Karibash pulls his sword out the first man, and with his foe's blade still embedded in his arm, cuts off the second man's head. He pulls out the offending sword, picks up the fool's head and roars at the retreating Ikalakians, hurling the head at them.

Kihalin though has rolled and is standing once more. Karibash smirks at the skill, and steps forward with a sideways swing. Kihalin quickly parries the blow and kneels forward pressing the tip of the wooden blade against Karibash's gut. It has caught an old scar though, and combined with Karibash's forward momentum he falls forward plunging himself onto the blade.

The combined Ikalakian and Taselakian forces are assaulting the Toren Stronghold. They have been fighting on the ramparts for hours but their foe's army is vast. Karibash steps forward with a sideways swing, heaving deep into the Taselakians side. He pulls out his blade and moves forwards towards a small group of embattled Toren until a pike plunges deep into his gut. He looks up in shock and pain to see a grinning Ikalakian, pleased to fell the giant Toren. But it cannot be so, with a mighty roar he cuts the pike so his foe cannot stab him deeper and bashes the man in the face sending him to down to the cold stone. Karibash, eyes tearing from the pain of the pike shredding his insides, calls out to his comrades for a more suitable weapon. Throwing his beloved shield and sword to the ground, he is tossed a waraxe. He does not stop until the Ikalakian is a bloody pulp. He then fights on, pike still within him, carving through his foes with a rage that can only be attributed to Tor's vengeance.

Karibash rolls over as Kihalin pulls out his sword, horrified. He swings limply as the healers rush towards him. His eyes begin to glaze over and he coughs blood. He murmurs gently, sword still swinging and shield arm twitching. "Betrayer... oathbreaker... averyll..."

They are in Lesthem again. The entire Toren army has been destroyed. Karibash lies in the mud bleeding. The Pontifex has been killed. They are coming to scavenge the battlefield. Karibash, somehow, manages to stand up. He picks up his sword and advances towards the three Taselakians. Sword arm swinging wildly, they laugh at his feeble attempts. One of them takes a javelin and throws it deep into Karibash's chest. But he is unperturbed. A low snarl, murmuring threats, he stumbles towards the increasingly scared Taselakians. Pulling the javelin out, he weakly throws it at one of them but misses greatly. It distracts them enough while Duke Cyperus swoops in on horseback, knocking one down, decapitating another, and sending the last screaming into the night. Karibash bows deeply before slaying the one Taselakian knocked down. He then collapses into the mud.