The Shadows Deepen and the Truth is Revealed

The fire roars and cackles shedding light around the clearing. At the edge of the firelight a dense ring of trees surrounds the peaceful clearing. Overhead a multitude of stars twinkle back at the fire. Crickets chirp merrily in the distance and owls question all who pass. The full moon above casts a warm glow over all it touches. Fireflies dance sparkling lights among the trees.

((Each of you will awaken as one of the twelve people sleeping in the clearing. Please take some time to introduce yourselves physically as well an anything else that you would post. It may seem that nothing is happening at the moment but this is a chance for you all to do the "get to know each other" phase before the real story gets started.))

Before the warmth of the fire draws Ghalin his blade and waves it about above him. His eyes open as he feels it rip through the air, and more importantly in his eyes, miss the Dwarf which seems not to be there. Kicking his way out of the bedroll he stands to survey the scene around him. He looks at the others around the the fire, and smells the food cooking. His stomache growls, and he decides not to wait.

"If someone wanted meh dead, it would'er happen already." He thinks to himself as he grabs his own bowl out of his pack.

::A tiny form is wrapped in the blankets of the bedroll, a delicate hand reaching out and find the jet black fur of the dog that lays slumbering beside her. The hand fitfully bunches in the dogs fur, and it is the first to awaken, glancing about with a tentative look. Its deep brown eyes are highlighted by small white spots, on its dark face. The dog turns and licks the forearm of the hand that grips it.. with such gusto it draws a waking sigh from the small figure.

The sigh deepens, as the figure awakens and sits up abruptly. Large eyes, a deep hazel in color glance about almost panicked. Pale blonde hair wisps in gentle curls on pink blushes cheeks, escaping from a short ponytail that holds the wealth of blond curls back from her face. Gently rounded ears, more tapered than human ones, are partially hidden by the hair. The left side of her face is covered with a detailed blue, green and gold tattoo, the curling tendrils reaching down to the chin and throat. She makes a grab for a rucksack at her side with her free hand and gives a sigh of relief when she finds it there and tied shut.

Gathering her blanket to her chest, the muted wool of the material covering her pale gray and blue tabard, she glances about the clearing.. eyes going to each sleeping form with a mixture of curiosity and concern.. her own thoughts thundering inside her head. She pulls the dog to her side, whispering excitedly. “Are these the ones I should watch over? For the child’s sake?” she mutters into the dogs fur.. “Hope. that’s what we have, and that’s what I will call you.. We are hope.. for the child.. for ourselves.. “ She looks to the dog, who answers her with one big lick on her face.. she giggles a bit and looks again at the other forms.. “Hello?” she calls out softly.::

The mountain of metal and livewood lie still on the other side of the camp, opposite of Ghalin. At the sound of a blade whistling through the air, two white crystal eyes flared to life. Bulwark stared at Ghalin for a moment, studying him, and then turned his attention to Jaynna and her dog. Bulwark's eyes slowly moved through the camp, surveying the other nine shapes.

Bulwark's eyes returned to Ghalin as the Dwarf ((It is a Dwarf, right? Just making sure.)) made a growling sound. Bulwark shook his head, realizing it was just one way fleshlings indicated they were hungry, and began to sat up. His right arm, a sword rather than an actual hand, stuck into the ground and the construct used it as leverage to sit up. His other hand rubbed his head, though the hand itself was larger than the head.

The construct might have looked intimidating to some: his face was forever forged into a grim expression, complete with jagged 'lips', and the black Adamantine plating and black livewood didn't help either. The size of him might have seemed unsettling as well: Looking to be about seven feet tall (It was a little hard to tell, with it sitting down) wasn't the semi-intimidating part -- the width of the Warforged seemed odd. If you were to line up three average-sized humans, shoulder to shoulder, it would take 3 and some change to equal the width of the construct in the camp.

"Hello," he answered to the Halfling. His voice was an emotionless rumble, almost like a rock-slide. The white in his eyes brightened for a split second, as if in surprise at his own voice. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper, if you could call it that. "My apologies. . . The others are. . . Sleeping, I assume."

He looked around at the clearing, mumbling something to himself. He looked down to his left and only hand, and then back to Ghalin and Jaynna. "Do either of you know the current location we are in? I. . . Do not remember--" he paused. Did he fall asleep? . . . No. Warforged don't sleep. Do they? "--do not remember falling inert at this location."

The two didn't seem unfriendly -- one was just hungry and the other was so little -- that the Warforged continued. "I am designation A001-017. Named, Bulwark, if you prefer. . ."

::Eyes widen even more if its possible.. Glancing briefly at the short stocky form muttering to himself and digging through a pack.. then her eyes are drawn and held by the behemoth of metal. Though she has seen warforged before, she cannot remember seeing one so .. immense.

She shakes her head in response to his question about location and breaks a gentle smile as he introduces himself.. or at least that is what she thinks he does.. his speech a bit odd, but puzzling the words, she pushes the blanket from her chest and scambles to her feet.. topping a bare 3'2". "I am Jaynna, this is Hope." Motions to the dog at her side, who jumps to its feet in hurry, to stand beside her. "I am unsure as to where this is.. but I was told.. I was needed." ::

Ghalin grumbles a little as the Warforged interupts. He was interested in the rambling of the Halfling to her dog. The Dwarf stands up tall, and surveys the other heeps around the fire. "I would nay mind your voice to much metal man. Somethin' tells me we'll all be a wakin' soon. And it not be a coincedence that I, ther Halflin' and you all get up at once."

He runs his finger through his beard, and the hairs look like fire if you were standing between it and the fire. His mithril chain shirt spakles in the light of the fire.

"The food is not poisoned, an ther may be enough to feed both you and... Hope?" He says as he eyes the form of the halfling, and turns to fill his bowl a second time.

"Never saw a forged with a sword for a hand." He says with out bothering to look at Bulwark.

**Glances back and forth from the ‘forged to the dwarf and smiles brightly. Looking to Hope as she heads from her bedroll towards the pot.. her own clothing no where near the splendor of chain, actually, it appears to be absent of armor all together.. A blue and gray tabard over pale gray trews and soft suede boots. She fumbles in the rucksack at her side and pulls out a collapsed v of leather. She punches her fist into it and makes an odd v shaped cup and dips it into the pot. After blowing on the contents for a while, she holds it out for the dog. “I.. I don’t need much.. Hope is hungry though.. he.. met on sad times.” Watches the dog eat, worried about its thin frame and prominent hipbones.::

Ghalin eyes the halfing as she punches a little bowl out of leather, and lets out a little laugh. "Yeh know, I think ther were some bowls layin' around here somewhere. Just so yeh know." The Dwarf says as he spoons another bite of food into his mouth. "Yeh any good with that arm o' yours metalman?"

Bulwark had been staring at the Halfling and her dog. He didn't seem to pay as much attention to Ghalin, until the word "metalman" caught his attention.

"I. . ." He paused. "I will not lie. I have only had need to use it approximately 4 times in my 33 years of existance. I am Warforged, however. . . So naturally, I am proficient with my component. . ."

Bulwark twisted around, reaching at something in his pack. With the firelight glinting of his plating, gold trimming could be noticed. It looked old, though, and parts of it were flaking off. What looked like a dragonmark was etched on his back. . . A Cannith house's Great Mark of Making.

Bulwark turned back around, fitting his swordarm into a makeshift sheathe. "Apologies for not having it properly contained. I do not wish to hurt anyone in the camp. . . I do have a normal forearm and hand in my pack, if that makes you more comfortable. . .?"

One of the sleeping figures starts suddenly. It is clothed entirely in black and the cloak which it wears throws its face into complete shadow. In one fluid motion, it rises and backs away into the shadows to observes its new surroundings. There were three people and a dog awake, and several asleep. She must've been asleep as well.
A thought enters her head suddenly, <Rima? Rima! Where are we?>
<Kree! Good, you're here as well. I have no idea where we are. The half-elf said that the 'old man' who can help us would be here though.>
<Could she mean the dwarf? I can't tell how old he is. Or perhaps the warforged? You can never tell what gender or how old they are as well. Perhaps he's one of the one's sleeping maybe?>
<I don't know, give me a minute. I wasn't expecting this many people to be here.>
A raven flies onto Rima's shoulder from the place where she was sleeping, <There are an awful lot of them aren't there. Do you think some of them have had visions too?>
A memory flashes through Rima's mind. A horrid voice. The smell of blood. <I. . .I don't know. I hope for there sake they haven't.> After a moment of silence, she continued, <Well, there's nothing more I can do like this.> The cloaked figure steps into the light of the fire again and asks in the quiet voice of a young girl, “Excuse me, do any of you know a pretty half-elf with a horse named Jake?”

::Blushes as the dog wolfs down the contents of the leather cup.. Jaynna shakes her head, glancing about and seeing the bowls the dwarf mentioned, shrugging a bit.. “I.. I didn’t want to offend, so.. Hope can eat easily enough from this.. “ her hands jerk a little as Hope gets a bit enthusiastic about the remaining contents at the narrowest portion of the leather container. Jaynna chuckles and pushes Hope back, and dumps the last lumps on the ground near her feet, jumping back a few inches as Hope dives for them. “You were hungry.. weren’t you.”

She digs a hole with her foot into the dirt and inverts the leather container.. and slaps it a few times to get ride of most of the food residue, then scraps the hole in again. Rolling up the leather, she places it back in her rucksack and takes one of the bowls. Dipping it carefully into the pot, she retrieves a small amount for herself, then glances to the other bedrolls.. curiosity on her face as she waits for the mixture to cool.::

"I jes be tryin' teh figure yer skills. If yeh used it only four er fove times in thirty three years, yeh either a damn fine fighter, er yer a damn poor one. Jus like I'ma guessin' that girl over there be some kinna magic woo woo." He says as begins to rummage through his pack.

After a moment he produces a small container of spice and throws a good dash into the pot, and stirs it before serving himself a third bowl. He stares into the mix deeply watching the dried leaves vanish into the stew and with out looking up speaks. "I've known quite a few pretty alves, err 'alf alves that is. Never bothered to exchanging plesantries wit dare 'orses."

He measures out a few sprinkles of his spice in his gloved hand (hobo gloves, finger tips are cut off for maximum dexterity), and extends it toward the halfling for her food.

An odd rumbling noise startles Mirae, and she clutches tighter at a hand that is no longer there. The last thing she remembers is the all-encompasing darkness... She keeps her eyes tightly shut as she listens to the other voices around her. Are these the 'others' she was told would also be attempting the task she was charged with? Which was the one who would explain everything?

As she listens, a small form stirs beneath the blanket and a forest cat emerges, blinking in the firelight. He looks around, raising his hackles slightly at the sight of the dog, and climbs onto Mirae's chest to lick at her face. The rasping tongue is too much for her, and she is forced to abandon the pretence of sleep. "Denni... stop..." she murmurs, her soft voice barely audible above the crackling of the fire. She lifts the cat off her chest and places him beside her, scratching his head affectionately before releasing him to go and investigate the camp if he wishes.

She sits up, the blanket falling away from her simple leather armour, and looks around - her deep brown eyes widening at the number of forms around the fire. "He never said there would be so many..." she thinks to herself, wondering how she will cope with being around this many people after the months of solitude. She hugs her knees and looks around at the others, too shy to interrupt their conversation and introduce herself, and hopes that no one will notice her. Denni, sensing her concern, forgoes his desire to chase the raven and instead sits next to her and purrs reassuringly.

Her fingers twitch as she contemplates casting a spell to hide herself, then she realises she is being ridiculous. These people are here for the same reason as she... well, maybe not the same reason, but to accomplish the same task. She tries to relax and not appear unfriendly, although the huge warforged makes her very nervous, and listens to the continued conversation.

::A bit confused by the dwarf’s words, her own answer is muted by the approach of one of the previously sleeping figures. Her eyes glance at the heavily cloaked person.. almost reaching for her own hood, laying back over her shoulders, but holds off. “Umm… no horse that I know by that name. “Bright eyes sparkle as she blows once more on the contents of her bowl, and dips her fingers in carefully to taste the mixture, careful not to make a face.. but wishing she had some of her mother’s spices with her.::

Bulwark turned his head towards Rima. Ignoring the question for a moment, he nods. "Good. You are awake. . ." He looked around at the surroundings, and shrugged. Given the situation, Bulwark decided to not jump to conclusions, but to act as he normally did around people. "You slept well, I hope?" He processed Rima's question in his head. "Jake. . . I cannot say I know this name. I have met many horses, however. . . Though I do not think that will help you."

Bulwark glanced at the dog again, and then looked to Ghalin. "I would hope I am a good combatant. The girl I as sworn to protect from birth has never been harmed since my creation. . ." He paused again, seeming to think on something, before shaking his head. "Either way. . . Yes, I am a good combatant. You have nothing to worry about, if protection is what you are seeking."

The construct's head turned slightly, hearing someone sit up, and his eyes fell on Mirae from the corner of his vision. "Ah. Another one awakens. . . You slept well. . .?"

((EDIT: I'd just like to say this: Holy. Crap. This thing hit the ground running. *Loves seeing all the posts.*))

((Deriaz, Rima was the one who spoke. Could you modify your post please? Rima is the human, Kree is the raven. Sorry for any confusion on that front.))

Rima starts laughing, "'Woo woo?' I've been called a lot of things before, but 'Woo Woo' was definitely not one of them. And yes, I slept well enough, thank you."

The raven takes off from her shoulder and inspects the soup. It then looks up at the Dwarf and assumes a rather affronted tone, "Mister, if that was an insult, you're no good at being insulting. If that was not an insult, you aren't good at being un-insulting either. And so what if she is a magic 'woo woo' anyway?" Without a second glance at the dwarf, it dips its beak into the soup and starts eating.

Rima starts nervously, unsure of how the dwarf would take to being insulted by a raven, "Kree, you aren't that 'un-insulting' either." She turned to the dwarf and spoke in an apologetic tone, "I'm sorry, she's not in the best of moods at the moment. A lot has happened to us recently, and it has us both on edge."

Mirae cringes slightly at the Warforged's attention, but she tells herself sternly that at least it seems friendly. She pushes the flopping brunette locks out of her eyes and sits up a little straighter.

"I... think..." she clears her throat and raises her voice to carry to the 'forged. "I think so, thank you..."

Ghalin slips a hand into the shadow running it across the ground feeling for a rock to throw at the smart mouthed bird, but stops at the appologoy of the Human. Instead he just nods in there general direction. "So what will happen now that yer not there to guard your gilry?" He asks the forged hoping to change its mindset. "So now that most o' us er up. Any one know where we are, or why?"

Bulwark heard Ghalin's question, but he disregarded it for a moment. His white crystal eyes stared at Mirae, making a note of the cringe she showed upon receiving attention from him. Perhaps--

The question. Bulwark turned to Ghalin. "What will happen? I cannot answer that question. She went missing from under my watch, nine years ago. I intend to find her. . . I have walked day and night through Khorvaire, trying to find her. I intended to search Xen'drik next. Scrying and the like from wizards revealed that Madam Arria d'Cannith, the girl I'm sworn to protect, cannot be found. This leads them only to conclude she is dead. I refuse to accept that answer. And so I search."

He contemplated the next question, while admiring the talking bird. "I do not know where we are. I was in a church establishment of the Sovereign Host, searching for Arria. The next thing I knew, I escaped my inert state, and found myself here. . ."

The Warforged looked around at the awoken people, and the ones still sleeping. "I can only assume you all do not know each other either?"

"I certainly don't. I hardly know anyone period, let alone those here. As for why we're here. . . . .I don't know about you, but I'm here to find answers. I said a lot of stuff was happening to us. I want to know why. The half-elf said she didn't know, but she knew someone who did. An old man apparently. Then she sent me here. " Rima pauses, then asks slowly, carefully, "Do any of you know anything about a man called 'The Scourged'?"

Ghalin makes a note in his head of about the information the forged just gave out. Who knows what might come to use in the days to come. As he finishes his third bowl, and puts it to the side near the fire.

"Well someone oughtta check er suroundin's. See if ther be anything around us. I can climb a tree and the ranger ther-" he looks at Mirae "-just guessin', might want to scout out below. Someone obviously wants us together, and I wanna know why."


Ghalin looks at the woman. "'The Scourged' ne'er heard o' him. Sounds like some one out o' some old folk tale." He spits.

"'The Scourged'?" Bulwark echoed. "The name is new to me-- But you say you were speaking to a half-elf? What did she look like? If she sent you here, then perhaps we spoke to the same person. . ."

Bulwark leaned forward slightly, seeming rather interested in the group now. It was hard to read what he was thinking, as his face was unable to show emotion. Nor was his voice, still at a loud, rumbling whisper, any help at all. His eyes scanned the other sleeping figures curiously.

He turned his head towards Ghalin. "Scouting the surroundings. . ." He glanced between the two. "If you wish. However, if we were to be killed, and in my case, dismantled, I would have thought they would have done it by now. And judging by the camp laid out, I can understand your suspicions of people wanting us together. But perhaps it is best if we stay as a group, until we learn what we all are capable of. . .?" His eyes glanced over Mirae, and then back to Ghalin. He didn't want to say it bluntly, but Bulwark knew he was much better at defending one thing, or clump of things, than he was if they were separated. Two different entities was something he had never done before.

"Oh, I did not think those who brought us here want us dead." Ghalin said as he stood and turned his back to the forged. "But I do think, we are in the woods. That we may be able to find some town or something near us. And that I think I hear wolves." He drops his pack on the ground and begins to climb up the tree.

A lifeless elf still slumbers. Short and lean with light brown hair and in druids garb with a leather shirt and an empty scabbard. Next to his bed is a belt with all manner of pouches. Dres grumbles in his sleep and wakes up rubbing his head.

"Eh? Who..." he mumbles, then in a moment of clear headedness, "Oh. I knew there was something special about that beauty!" He looks around then blushes for a moment. "Last to rise? Or am I missing a fellow sleep enthusiast?"

He crosses his legs and then rummages through his belt then suddenly pauses. "I seem to be forgetting someone." He says with a wry smiles. He whistles and a weasel leaps out of a robe pocket and begins chewing on his belt. "Oi! Aasel! No!" he exclaims.

Ghalin stops climbing for a moment still only a few feet off the ground, as he hears a whistle. He glances at the camp and sees that another of the campers has risen from their slumber, and begins his slow ascent.