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Post by The Almighty DM on Jul 1, 2012 23:30:44 GMT -5
In the dark of the night, you lay asleep in your room.
Describe your room, as well as your house and location, in as much detail as you desire. I will fill in the rest as the adventure goes, but you hold a lot of power now to affect your world as you wish.
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Post by strykeron on Jul 2, 2012 13:34:38 GMT -5
The chambers in the rectory of the monastery of Bahamut are spartan to say the least. Ivar's chamber is at the highest floor of the rectory, where the leader of the Order sleeps and works. His bed is small, only ever suitable for a single person, never meant to be shared. A small desk across the room from the bed holds papers and manuscripts to be copied, along with plans for lessons to be taught to the young apprentice. The desk is old, worm-eaten wood with a simple wooden stool for a chair. Members of the order where never meant to live comfort. An extinguished candlestick is the only object in the room that can give light aside from the square window cut into the rough stone of the wall, and heavily barred with iron. The largest piece of furniture in the room is also the nicest. The heavy wardrobe against the wall was a gift from the former Rector; an enormous thing, covered in carved images of the legends of Bahamut and vanquished evil. The old Rector was apparently an accomplished carpenter and artist, although in his last years he refused to even whittle unless it was to do small repairs of the fence or chicken coop. Ivar did not have much to wear inside the wardrobe. Having lived his whole life there and not having much to do outside of the monastery, his clothing choices consisted largely of clerical vestments. Different robes and capes and coverings for different holidays and solemn days. A white robe for the celebration of the birth of a prophet of Bahamut, a black one for his death, three different capes to be worn during ceremonies, including a green one for funerals. Two pairs of boots sat on the bottom floor of the wardrobe, both pairs clean and sturdy. A single pair of breaches and a long coat are the only civilian clothes that Ivar owns. It was a suggestion by the old Rector to always have travelling clothes. Without glass in the window, a cold wind blows through the room from off of the mountain, stirring the thin blanket covering Ivar as he sleeps.
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Post by The Almighty DM on Jul 2, 2012 17:24:57 GMT -5
Although the details are faded, and the images seem to be shrouded in a purple haze, Ivar gazes from a distance upon an unknown structure sitting on the cliff that ends the vast canyon lying before him. Even less clear than the structure, a giant silver-blue shadow unfurls in the background. Just when he recognizes the blur as massive wings, calmly and slowly, Ivar opens his eyes. It takes a few moments to realize that he is no longer dreaming, for the purple haze persists in his small dwellings. From the window, a glow flows into his room that casts a faint shadow on the few possessions that fill the chamber. Although the eyes can not detect any shifting in the light, Ivar feels a throbbing like that of a heart as he is immersed in the illumination.
React.
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Post by strykeron on Jul 4, 2012 13:19:08 GMT -5
The strange glow rests in the center of the room as Ivar slowly rises from his bed. He offers a prayer to Bahamut that this power is not evil. As Ivar approaches the glow, it shifts slightly away from him. He reaches for it and tries to grasp it in his hands but the glow is always just out of reach. Ivar leaps towards it and closes his hands around the glow. The light races away from him, narrowly missing his fingers and then stops, perfectly still. Ivar is spread out on the floor, face down, watching the light float there, its beat washing over him. Ivar rises to his hands and knees and crawls to the wardrobe, using it to pull himself to his feet. He opens it and pulls out a random white robe, throwing it on, and never taking his eyes off the glow. The light moves closer to the door and passes through the wood to the other side. Ivar follows slowly, opening the door to find the light already passing the corner down the stairs.
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Post by The Almighty DM on Jul 16, 2012 1:27:51 GMT -5
The perpetual dust that hangs on the monastery walls blends in with grainy texture that the haze produces in Ivar's world. All details are obscured save for his small, new friend. The orb floats with an almost giddy personality, swaying with the tempo of the monk's steps. More appropriately, perhaps, is that Ivar steps in time with the swaying of the orb; in time with the thudding of his heart. His mind is blank as he walks through the front door of the temple, blank except for the omnipresent radiance he follows.
In a moment of recess, like the tide of a sea, Ivar is free of the consuming force that overwhelmed him. He has a few moments of clear thinking, when thoughts of uncertainty and longing fill his mind, but every glance at the small glow beckons him onward with a reassuring whisper to his soul. He knows that following the orb any longer will mean committing himself to what ever unknown fate it holds for him.
React
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Post by strykeron on Jul 16, 2012 16:53:35 GMT -5
Ivar, free from his stupor, if only for a moment, prays to Bahamut under his breath. "I do not know why you have sent this light that guides me through the night, but by your power and might may it guide me to you." The light stops in from of him, and Ivar's steps cease immediately. This must be a sign from Bahamut! It must be! What other god would call him in the night, what other power would seek him out but the god he has devoted his life to? The Old Rector was always searching for signs of Bahamut's calls to action. Ivar could not ignore such a strange thing as living light. He looked about himself and found that he stood in the center of the garden that he had sustained him for the past 17 years. A lot of work had been done here. Moonlight cast slanting shadows on the ground, but a small circle of light emanated from the glow. With a plea for Bahamut's protection, Ivar stretched his hand to the light. This time it did not move away, but stayed still, as Ivar's hand touched the soft light.
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Post by The Almighty DM on Jan 2, 2013 18:21:27 GMT -5
The air isn't moving; Ivar's robe isn't swaying. Yet he knows he is plummeting. He finds himself trapped in a perpetual experience one feels when they fall in a dream. Many miles fly by and still Ivar hasn't moved; he still stretches for the orb that is constantly barely out of reach. The purple haze is the only surrounding. A complete void of purple with Ivar floating alone.
Time doesn't exist while he is trapped in the purple haze's power. His experiences pour over him all at once, but at the same time relives each one of them in slow motion. Among the mundane chores to maintain the monastery and the countless hours of reflection and prayer, Ivar finds the moments that weren't so simple.
The monks told him that he was never alone when Bahamut is by his side, but that didn't mean much to Ivar as he spent long nights gazing upon the moon, wondering if the family that didn't want him also gazed on that moon.
The lessons Abbot Gregory instilled in him seemed so fuzzy as he lay beside his perfectly still body.
Ivar felt like the blind leading the blind as he tried his best to teach Yorin how to care for the monastery, but the kid always looked so scared whenever Ivar would leave him alone.
He'll probably have that look when he wakes up...
But Ivar can't resist any longer the whispers that stirred him in his sleep. The urge for something great has built into the situation he finds him self now, plunging to the inevitable fate that he always knew existed. Completely blind to where he was being led, he put his faith in his god....
And suddenly the falling stopped.
Wait for everyone else and stayed tuned for the new board, "The Ushering."
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