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Post Reply RPG: Of Thieves and Tears
Posted 6/24/15
It is a dark time upon the world.

Evil rules the night. Creatures of foul nature prey upon the weak and small villages have banded together to create great towns with high walls. Monarchies have been established and the people, fearing for their lives and the safety of their families, now abide by the Kings of these cities. No one King is the same; the Kingdoms are spread far and wide and in-between are forests and valleys filled with untold dangers and slithering things.

Within the protection of the walls the people are safe and live in quiet as the darkness slowly reaches its inky fingers and horrendous beings of great power rise up in might and arms, threatening the peace and harmony of all in their lust for domination over the world.

Human beings are looked upon by all magic creatures as the least powerful and yet are considered the most crafty in all things; for most humans cannot work magic but can be smart enough to outwit magical contracts with the power of words.

In one of the great Kingdoms called Ledgeford, established in the rocky terrain of a mountain's valley where it is safe from attack, the Queen has fallen into a terrible malady. She is driven to insanity by a being who has made its home in the Far North and who's iron will crushes all before him.
He is the Dreamweaver. The Dark Elf of Cardolve; hailing from a far off land and come to seek his fortune hence.

Seated on his black throne, the Dark Elf holds a great prize that all envy. The Tears of Mithgale. It is said that, dripping from the Golden Lily into a pool of purest crystal, its dew that comes only in the morning will heal any sickness or make whole even stunted limbs. He parts with a single Dew Tear in exchange for slaves to whoever requests it.

The King has tried to persuade his people to exchange themselves even for a single dew tear but alas! The people refuse and he is left with only one other option. To send out letters to Mercenaries, Hunters, Thieves, to procure the precious medicine for the Queen; and so....the tale begins.

Meera looks up from the fruit she is inspecting at the town market, seeing a soldier pound a Proclamation into the wooden pillar at the center of town. Her sharp green eyes read the sprawling script and her mouth smiles quietly.
It is a cloudy day, a slight chance of drizzle by the afternoon, so she stands in her warmest black pants and long-sleeved cotton shirt also dyed black. The townsfolk around her are dressed in happy colors but she is not a part of this town. Simply passing through. The large black hooded cloak around her shields her face from the biting breeze that has decided to pick up and pulls a few strands of jet black bangs across her pale face. Adjusting her deerskin gloves, her eyes scan the letter of the King.
The reward is not to be sneezed at, she thinks. As much gold as the victor can carry. A weapon forged to their specifications with the king's own money, a new set of clothes and a personal invitation to dine with the king whenever they are in town for as long as he lives; a fancy term for free food and drink and lodgings.
Meera adjusts the longsword at her hip. They can keep their free lodgings....but she could really use a new cape. New clothes.
A new way to ill her boredom.
"Well," She says to herself congenially, giving her last coin to the vendor and biting into her apple as the Fall Weather turns colder, "Let's give this thing a whirl."
She makes her way to the castle, knowing that there might be a tournament to decide who is the best and who gets to go.

The guards lead her to a beautiful courtyard where the King is sitting. His beard has grayed before its time and the unpolished golden crown rests uneasily atop his head. He was once a proud man but the madness of his Queen has reduced him to a mere shell.
"I fear you shall fare little better than the others I have invited." He says in a gravelly voice, looking ready to weep in despair. "The Cure I seek is in the Castle of the DreamWeaver."

Meera looks at the King in hidden shock and silent understanding of why there seems to be no great contest. No long line of Hunters ready for such a good reward. No reward is worth this.
This quest is a sentence of death.
Meera looks at the King. "Is there no one else who has the courage to go, then?" She demands softly in her youthful voice, for she is only just past twenty years of age.
"All have turned away." the King grieves, pounding his breast in sadness as the leaves fall off of the greying trees, a sure sign that fall is here and winter itself is coming.
Meera feels a prick of hair at the back of her neck and her hand rests upon the hilt of her sword. A powerful presence is coming and she turns to see who it and where it is coming from.
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Posted 6/24/15
Slowly a hooded figured walks into the courtyard, classes in steel plates leather and dark long coat, the plates on his armor were dull grey from seeing muc combat. The hood man look at the girl then at the aging king. "I guess I got here in time" said the man as he slowly approaches them without the guards permission.
Posted 6/24/15
The guards look at each other, not liking the look of such a seasoned warrior as this coming near their king regardless of the Royal Summons. They forcibly cross their spears together to bar him entrance to the small that which leads to the King.
"Stay there, Wanderer." One of the guards says with a frown.

The King is in a stupor of sadness now, his eyes staring off into nowhere as they fill with tears which stream down his cheeks.

Meera puts her hand on the King's head in sympathy and looks up, cocking her head to the right a little bit.
There is a warrior who has seen much suffering She thinks to herself, the look in her eyes making her seem older than she truly is. She neither scolds the guards nor brings the king to the present but waits to see how the warrior will handle the situation as she has already made up her own mind to go.
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Posted 6/24/15
A baby Drake pops its head out from his cloak and roars, the hooded man scratches the drakes chin and removes his sword belt, "may I approach now?" He asks the royal guard
Posted 6/24/15
Meera is surprised, her eyes widened a little at the creature. She can't help but smile; for not just anyone can tame even a baby Drake.

"Let him come. The King doesn't care right now anyway." Meera tells the Guard softly. The guards, who are by now quite uneasy, nod and lift their spears.

Meera straightens up and tells him, "The Dreamweaver is the one you would be stealing from. The King needs the Tears of Mithgale." She informs him quietly.
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Posted 6/24/15
Walks up to them "Cardolve..... Well this should be interesting" he removes the hood revealing a man in his mid 20s with dark brown hair and eyes as dark as coal*
Posted 6/24/15
Meera's eyes take in his visage with a moment of true surprise. He doesn't seem much older than her and yet it seems he has been through far more battles than she has.
Gathering her courage she looks up at the imposing man. "I am going." She said softly. "I don't care about the reward except for some new clothes. You can have the rest." She offers bluntly.
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Posted 6/24/15
He eyes the girl, seeing that she has not seen much combat but could certainly use the help on this suicide mission. "What do you think Ifrit" he asks to his Drake, which looks at her and roars in approval.
Well I guess your tagging along then miss? He ask for her name.
Posted 6/24/15
She laughs and comes up, noting he is a full head taller than her and she must tilt her head to look into his eyes. She smiles.
"Meera. I don't have a last name." She says with a grin, then tilts her head to the Drake without fear. "Hello, Ifrit." Meera says in a quiet tone, observing the colors of the baby Drake. "He's beautiful!"
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Posted 6/24/15
Ifrit glides over to her shoulder and crawls on her "looks like we're partners in this" looks her up and down "we're gonna have to get you some proper gear, instead of these cloths"
Posted 6/24/15
Meera giggles, petting the Drake and scratching him behind his ears. "Hey, fella." She whispers to him softly, her head looking up at him. "I'm more of a thief than a fighter. I need to be quick on my feet." Meera tells him with a small smile. "I supposed a small breastplate and some knee pads would probably be a good idea." She admits with a sigh. "To be honest I don't have the-"
"I will pay!" The King shouts, having return half-way to lucidity by now. "Whatever gear you need, you can have!"

Meera frowns. "You're generous, your highness." She says, a drop of sweat going down her neck. She isn't even sure how to put gear on, let alone what she might need.

The King nods emphatically. "The smithees are in the center of town, please," He hands her a purse filled with gold coins. "Both of you, I insist, get new armor!"

Meera smiles at that, looking over at the baby dragon whose face is centimeters away from her own. "Hear that, Ifrit? Your Master is getting new armor!"
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Posted 6/24/15
Looking at her trying to figured out what armor and weapons would fit her beast "I guess your gonna need help huh?" Calls ifrit back and picks up my swordbelt back on
Maybe a new cloak and leather armor to keeper agile he thinks to himself
Posted 6/24/15
Meera scratches the back of her neck with an embarrassed smile. "Um...yes, I could use a little help. I've never found armor to be anything but a hindrance." She looked over at him and puts her hands up. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with armor, sir! It's just it doesn't become a thief very well. I need pockets. Armor tends to hinder that." Meera explains as she walks to the smithy with him.
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Posted 6/24/15
Walks with her as ifrit ploops on my head "by the way my name is Oran"
Opens the armorurs door for her "this place has decent gear" nods at his friend the black Smith Silvia
"Oh hi Oran, wooooo who is the cutie?" She jest with him and nudges him, Oran blushes obviously an agreement that he thinks she is cute "we need gear Silvia"
Posted 6/24/15
Meera nods, her own cheeks scarlet. "I don't know a thing about armor but I need to be quick on me feet. Anything restrictive will severely hinder my performance. I'm a pickpocket by trade when I have to be; but I steal from other thieves." she tells her. "Most of them are cutthroats and I can ill afford to be slow when daggers are being thrown." Meera laughs, looking up at Ifrit and then at Oran.
"I guess I have a fan." She laughs.
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