This is going to be a roleplay where a small group can participate in with the safety of not having any Mary Sue characters. There are lists for you to choose from. Try not to go overboard and keep things simple and balanced. You need weaknesses and strengths both. In regards to the ability to fight, make sure you limit yourself to two similar aspects. Make sure that the physical attributes are able to support the fighting style and the armor.

FYI - Mages traditionally only know magic and so are weak against close-ranged attacks. Just because you are an elf doesn't mean you are automatically good at swords, archery, and the greatest mage on earth. For this roleplay, the races are all on the same level. They just have aesthetically different qualities such as pointy ears or four hooves.

Posting order is the order that you post your character profiles. Once everyone's character profile is posted, then the first person to have posted their's will start the roleplay. If someone doesn't post for a little while, chill, they will when life allows them.

Weapons:
Small knives
Throwing knives
Daggers
Short Swords
Rapier
Broadsword
Sling
Lance
Bow and Arrows
Darts
Hand guns (much harder to use than their longer counterparts)
Shot guns/ Rifles
Martial arts
Wrestling
Boxing
Scrapper/Street Fighting
Thief
Infiltrator/spy
Escapee Artist
Mage
Shaman (has the animals and plants as friends: summon animals and manipulate plants)

Physical Attributes:
Stamina
Speed
Agility
Defense
Offense
Counter-attack
Evasive
Strategy
Survival Skills - Wilderness
Element Toughened

Armor:
No armor - this would be mages
Light armor - the most agile and speedy people would use these... good for archers
Medium armor - this is middle of the road, any physical attribute works with it
Heavy armor - something someone who is strong can wear... slows you down though

... not actually sure what to put here... but you obviously shouldn't overdo it... be reasonably... for example, if you wear heavy metal armor, then your character shouldn't be very fast or flexible with it on. If your character is wearing leather armor, they shouldn't be able to take a blow from a sword on their arm. I don't care if you are dwarf, elf, or half dragon... there must be weaknesses and strengths. Going supersayan on the other roleplayers is frustrating and makes writing with you awkward.

Mage:
Adding this due to a Mary Sue problem that occurred in another roleplay. If you use magic, after an hour or two your tired. If you keep going for half the day using it nonstop, your gonna be sick. If you use magic for more than 12 hours straight, you gonna sleep for a day. If you use it for an entire 24 hours (please don't) you are going unconscious for several days and going to be weak and sick when you eventually wake up. So darn it, avoid becoming Mary Sue and using magic for two days straight. Otherwise it will be hard to post because your character does little if anything.

Types of magic. Be specific. If you have water abilities, then you don't have fire abilities. If you have lightening abilities, then you don't have snow abilities. If you have healing abilities, then you don't have the dark arts. I understand mixing and matching, but make sure it makes sense. You can fly even if you want, but be reasonable about it. Make sure you have definite areas you can't do.

Last note, if you are creating a mage character, I don't care if she is a nymph, sprite, elf, whatever, she has no other fighting ability. She or he can't also be good at archery, blades, martial arts, etc. Mage's must not be Superman. They are already hard enough to kill as it is. The nice weakness though that is obvious about a mage, if you are super fast and can punch them before they complete their spell... well... yeah. They be down man. Just... please... moderation!

I know that part of the fun of roleplaying is surprising your fellow roleplayers... however a really good roleplay has open communications. Talk with each other and brainstorm how to go about something or to do something. It might create more interesting possibilities as well as avoid writer's block. If you are hesitant about this, remember you are writing for the characters. Just because the author knows another author's character's fear or weakness doesn't mean that the author's character knows another author's character's fear or weakness. In fact, it allows us authors to torture... er... create interesting situations where the author can put their character through hell, er, interesting experiences. I can't read your mind, your character's facial expressions, or necessarily all the intent in your writing... and you would have the same problem when dealing with my writing and characters. This is why open communications are good. Mystery is fun. However it is more enjoyable when things don't fall flat because someone crashed the party by having their character "save the day" when the other characters didn't want the day saved.

---------- Post added 04-09-2013 at 08:15 AM ----------

Those who have signed up:

1. maidenroseheart
2. Silver Storm:
3. twotickets:
4. Superstition:

---------- Post added 04-09-2013 at 08:30 AM ----------


Name: Saber
Age: 25
Weapons Strengths: Rapier and Broadsword
Weapons Weaknesses: Ranged weapons and hand-to-hand skills. So if an archer is flying towards her, she only has her armor to rely on. If someone takes a punch at her when she is swordless, she is in trouble after the first hit or so.
Physical Attribute Strengths: Strength, Stamina, Defense, Strategy.
Physical Attribute Weaknesses: Agility, Speed, Evasive. The armor weighs her down.
Race: Human
Armor: Medium Armor
Character Trait: Loves music. When she hears music, she is drawn towards it like a moth to a flame. If she is fighting, it does little to distract her. In normal life though, it completely dominates her attention. Only the sound of a weapon can pull her out before the music stops.
Pet Peeve: Being Late
Fears: The dark, not seeing who is behind her, watching friends take risks in her place, death of a friend, and bullies.
Description: 5'8" with lean muscle. Slightly tanned skin, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes. Tattoo on her hip that resembles a fairy with a devil-like tail. Scars on her back where she had been tortured as a child by bullies.
History: Grew up in the inner cities as a young child. Saved from bullies by a farmer who took her out into the country for a year or so until he could get her into an apprenticeship with mercenaries. Grew up learning to defend herself and her friends. Left her mercenary band and guild once 21 out of the desire to explore on her own for a few months. It turned into a few years.




Name: Fay
Age: 28
Mage: A mixture of healing and water arts. His abilities to heal are the stronger of the two. Because a body is made up of a lot of water, it was necessary to learn some water manipulation as well. As a general rule, he helps people and is support instead of an actual fighter. Just watch out, his ability with water and humorous personality can lead to small pranks.
Abilities: Has a healing ability, takes time though and hurts the one being healed. Can ease symptoms, but not cure. Can set bones or close wounds that were caused the same day, but again takes time. Can support those fighting by strengthening their skin against cuts, providing a sort of magic shield that can take some damage before the person inside gets hit, and can give the fighter some speed. Has the water ability to summon up water and manipulate it into balls that can be thrown at others.
Weaknesses: As a mage, he spends his time practicing his craft leaving no room to improve in any other area. So he is vulnerable to attack, especially close combat attacks.
Attributes: Very much a defensive person. His skills and energies all go into taking care of those around him. So attacking is not something he is good at. However when it comes to holding someone at bay, he excels. Stamina.
Attributes Weakness: Not very good dealing with others who are defensive since he is already defensive himself. Not very agile.
Description: Light blond hair and gray eyes. 5' 10". Very lanky in appearance with an almost boyish face. He tends to smile and be light-hearted even in the most serious events. Very easy to get along with and social. Generally has his staff in one hand. His staff is very tall with a circle at the top decorated in blue gems and symbols of the moon. He wears white clothes including a cloak trimmed in white fur.
Character Trait: Always smiling and happy except when one of his close friends is being hurt or being bullied. Those causing the pain see another side of him.
Pet Peeves: Bullying. Fighting.
Race: Human
Armor: none
Fears: Not being able to save a friend. Lightening.
History: Grew up in a large family compound filled with siblings and cousins. Very outgoing since those days, he did well at the mage academy he attended. It was a family catastrophe that instilled in him a desire to save lives rather than take them.

Name: Mahtan (Max) Ancali
Age: 25
Weapons Strengths: Martial arts, Rapier
Weapons Weaknesses: Ranged weapons-- guns, bow and arrow, throwing knives, darts
Physical Strengths: Speed, agility, survival skills
Physical Weaknesses: Strength, stamina, strategy
Race: Elf
Armor: Light, flexible leather
Character Traits: Mahtan is the only nearsighted elf he knows of, and he is a mixture of ashamed and defensive about it. Mahtan has a bit of a temper and tends to start fights he has little hope of winning when he's angry. The two typical elf-qualities he excels with are his ability to survive and thrive in the wilderness and his ability to notice and remember details; in these he takes great pride.
Pet Peeves: Arrogance
Fears: He REALLY doesn't want to tell you, but it has a lot to do with his own feelings of incompetence
Description: Mahtan is about 6'1" with hair like sand. He typically grows it long enough to cover his ears; in this way, he often passes for human, which generally spares him embarrassing questions about his lack of a bow and quiver. His eyes are a muddy shade of blue, and his skin is a bit more tan than most elves'. He usually wears form-fitting, softened black leather that allows him freedom of movement. On his left arm is a tattoo of black flame, yet another thing that sets him apart from his elvish brethren.
History: Mahtan is the younger son of a low-class family of elves; the family had once been great in their clan, but a series of serious mistakes has pushed them to the outskirts of society. Mahtan's mother died when he was small, and his father and elder brother both excel at things Mahtan struggles with; they are not loving but not abusive, either. Although members of his clan typically prize dignity and respect in their interactions, Mahtan was bullied as a child and has never been good at making friends or trusting people. Consequently, Mahtan left home at eighteen and rarely makes contact with anyone from his clan, family or not. He prefers to work alone.

Name: Rinto Darksteel
Age: 31 (human equivalent)
Weapons Strengths: Axes, short swords, daggers
Weapons Weaknesses: Broadswords, range weapons
Physical Strengths: Stamina, defense, strategy
Physical Weaknesses: Speed, agility, wilderness survival skills
Race: Dwarf
Armor: Medium
Character Traits: Rinto is gruff and snarky, but he only uses that to make people forget that he's short. In truth, Rinto is quick to form loyal friendships, and he often assigns himself the role of "father figure" in a group. He's a good fighter, but his greatest strength is his ability to read people. Having grown up on and inside a mountain, Rinto is used to a cold, harsh winter; having forged his own blades, he is used to extreme dry heat. However, he cannot understand and does not like humidity or insects.
Pet Peeves: Not cleaning one's weapons-- particularly if they're dwarf-forged
Fears: Losing a friend's trust
Description: Rinto is about 4'5" tall with dark brown hair and beard and brown eyes. He carries no less than six weapons on him at all times. He usually wears light but strong dwarf-forged armor (passed down from his grandfather), which is lined with leather, and a cape and accents of royal blue, his clan color. He rarely if ever wears a helmet or carries a shield.
History: Rinto is the eldest son of a noble family of dwarves. He has three younger brothers and two younger sisters. He was married once, but his wife died in an epidemic not long after they were married nearly three years ago. Eventually, Rinto will be expected to take over the leadership of his clan, and he is well-suited to the job. However, as his father is both hale and hearty, and Rinto has not yet healed from the pain of losing his wife, his entire family has encouraged him to spend a few years questing before he settles down to search for the new Mrs. Rinto Darksteel.

Name: Mithra
Age: Looks to be in her early 20's.
Shaman: Has a closeness with plants and animal, with nature really.
Abilities: Can summon wolves or any animal smaller also. Can manipulate plants and shoot a directed bolt of lightning from her staff.
Weaknesses: Since she focuses mainly on her connection with plants and animals, she doesn't really have any fighting skills. Is terrible at fighting up close and defending close range attacks.
Attributes: Good at defense and guarding. Can also use her abilities to initiate combat, but only usually does when she comes across someone abusing an animal.
Attributes Weakness: Prefers to avoid combat if possible. Also takes energy to summon animals and manipulate plants.
Description: 5'7" with red hair and green eyes. Wears a dress of white and gold with a blue cloak. Carries a staff made out of black walnut with a glowing blue crystal on top with lightning crackling around inside.
Character Trait: Quiet and standoffish around people, much more comfortable with animals and nature. Hates being inside, especially if trapped, no matter the weather. Comes across as aloof and brusque but that is just because she doesn't know how to act around people.
Pet Peeves: Animal abuse, overly friendly/get in your space people.
Race: Elf
Armor: none
Fears: Getting hurt by those she finally lets herself trust, anger and violence (takes a lot of willpower or something big to keep her around.)
History: Escaped the massacre of her family when she was 5 and fled to the woods. She has spent most of her time in nature and not around humans. She can read an animal with ease and can sometimes defuse the anger of them.

Superstition asked me to post this for her as she will not be able to get back on until tomorrow and she wanted us to be able to start if we wanted.


Name: Onara
Age: 18
Weapons Strengths: Bow and arrows, a little defensive martial arts
Weapons Weaknesses: guns, swords (anything she where has to get close to her opponent)
Physical Strengths: Defensive Strategy, counter-attack, speed, and agility
Physical Weaknesses: Stamina, offensive strategy,
Race: Human
Armor: Very light, leather

The air's silence was shattered under the ring of steel. Dust rose up around the two figures as the sun glinted off their armor. The sunlight seemed weighed down with humidity, adding to the sweat dripping down the faces of both fighters. If a sight could be more wearisome, it was that of desperation over a pointless feud. Two families had been having trouble with each other for awhile now. Deciding to settle the score once and for all, they had advertised and interviewed different fighters until each had chosen someone to be their champion. Now their champions dueled furiously in the center of the ring for the honor of their employers. It was evenly matched and so had continued on for nearly half an hour.

Now both fighters were showing strain of the fight. This was when lapse in judgment occurred. A single mistake would got the other victory and possibly their life. The male who had started the fight stronger than the female didn't seem to notice that she was drawing back under his blows a little too easily. Suddenly the sun was in his eyes and he was unable to parry her sudden offensive blow. Falling with a mortally dangerous wound between a space in his heavy armor, it was apparent that he wasn't the victor.

The female stood there watching him, her experience teaching her to never take your eyes off someone you don't trust, even if they are down. He stared at her for a moment, then slumped to the ground as his muscles gave out and death claimed him. Wiping her sword on his cloak amid the tumultuous cheers of the gathered crowd, Saber made sure all signs of dust and blood were cleaned off. Then and only did did she turn to acknowledge the crowd and the joyous expressions of her employer's family. Her raised arms beckoned more cheers, the sunlight shining off her silver armor. Etched on it was white lines of her mercenary family. Accenting her armor and white clothes was light blue tones. She looked every bit the warrior she was, proud and tall.

The moment he entered the pub, Max felt dozens of eyes on him. Casting his eyes about, he tried to understand what he'd done (or not done) to draw attention to himself.

The bartender was an exceptionally fat dwarf, and most of the patrons were dwarves in various stages of intoxication. Perhaps they didn't see many people of his height in these parts? But no-- there were at least two tables in the back occupied by human men. No one seemed at all uncomfortable with them.

He checked his posture. Long ago, he'd learned to curve his spine a little in public, to move with the carelessness of a human. Today was his first day back from the forests in nearly six months, and perhaps-- but no, he had not forgotten.

It had to be his ears, then. The draft from opening the door must have pushed his hair out of its careful disarray. Max resisted the impulse to fiddle with it; once recognized, there was no point in trying to hide what he was. He straightened his spine (and wasn't that a relief) and headed to the bar.

"I was told you provide hot meals here," he said quietly, willing everyone to go back to their own pursuits.

The dwarf squinted at him suspiciously. "That we do, laddie, but we put meat in 'em."

"That is acceptable."

Now the dwarf was even more suspicious. "Where are ye from, then?"

"I travel a lot."

"Do ye, now? And where might ye be goin'?"

"I cannot say." Max didn't know. "Sir, I just want a hot meal. I have been in the wilderness for several months, and I simply wish for warmth in my belly and a roof over my head." He tried to look as harmless and normal as possible.

The bartender studied his face for a long moment and nodded. "Fine, then. Take a seat at the end of the bar, and I'll serve ye."

Max followed the man's instructions, running a hand through his hair in what he hoped was a natural manner and re-covering his ears. Slowly, the noise level in the bar rose to levels that indicated he'd been forgotten, and Max relaxed.

"So," a pleasant baritone announced from the barstool next to him. "What happened to yer bow?"

The forest was alive with its usual sounds and bird songs. A doe grazed with her young fawn frolicking nearby. Neither seemed concerned when they noticed the slender red headed girl walking through the trees towards them. The fawn bounded a little ways towards her and then stopped, its little tail wagging. Mithra smiled and knelt down in front of the little deer. She reached out a hand, her skin alabaster white. The fawn wagged its little tail as she rubbed its back.

The doe's head snapped up at the same time that Mithra heard the sound of approaching people. Doe and fawn turned and fled deeper into the woods, as the maiden turned to face the direction of the noise, her head tipped to the side. She rarely ever ran into people this deep in the woods. She sprang into action when she realized that the people would soon appear. She whirls, the skirt of her white and gold dress and the bottom of her blue cloak swirling out around her. She slips quietly behind a tree and peers around the edge, watching for the intruders.

She saw two children appear, a boy of about 8 and a girl of about 6. She could tell they were lost and she instantly knew that she would have to take them back towards civilization. She sighed softly, not liking the idea of having to go near people but she couldn't just leave the children out here in the woods and its dangers. She straightened her back and steeled her nerves before stepping out from behind the tree. The children froze when they saw her and the little boy moved protectively in front of his sister.

"I mean you no harm children," Mithra soothed, her voice low and melodic. "I only want to help you get back to your home."

The boy eyed Mithra and slowly his protective stance softened and he began to relax. She smiled at the children and turned leading them through the woods and back towards civilization. It took them nearly an hour of walking to reach the edge of the woods and from there the village was only another 500 yards in the open. The children raced ahead with renewed vigor at the sight of home. She watched them for a moment before turning and disappearing back into the woods.

The air boasted of hot, fresh bread and pastries as people of all kinds bustled about the open market looking for just the perfect purchase. As it was with every morning the market was full but not so full that one could not move around and enjoy one’s self. As Onara strolled along the way, her basket in the crook of her arm, her mouth watered at the scrumptious buns and loaves. Behind her the fresh fruits and vegetables had been just as appealing. Patting the pocket of her simple jacket, she felt the assurance of her remaining small fortune tucked safely inside. It had taken her a two whole weeks to save up enough to buy some treats at the market and today was the day!

The plump lady behind counter smiled at her as Onara walked up and sat down on a tall stool. “What can I get for ya, love?” the lady drawled as Onara placed the basket half-filled with fruit and some vegetables on the smooth wooden counter.

“What is fresh?” Onara loved the almost rehearsed script that everyone used to open their purchases.

“Well, let me see, young lady. We have these barley loaves, dinner rolls, cinnamon buns, strawberry tarts, apple turnovers...here, try this cinnamon leaf. I My daughter just put them out!”

Onara moaned as she took a taste of the hot bun dripping with butter and her favorite spice. “It’s delious!” she blurted around her full mouth. “May I have three, please?”

Saber walked calmly away after receiving the congratulations from the onlookers and her payment from her employers. The mercenary she had fought had been good. A part of her was grim in the face of slaughter for such pitiful disputes. However a person had to make a living and this was the way in life that she had chosen.

Heading down the street, Saber's dark brown hair hung almost black from the high ponytail she preferred. The one obvious weakness in a fight was her hair. It was pretty long and straight, the ponytail making a perfect handhold for an enemy. It was part of the reason she had left the mercenary company that had raised her.

The Silver Falcons were an amazing group that had been her family for several years. However she wasn't an idiot. Her hair was a liability for them and her restless nature not conformable with their lifestyle. They had to stick with the longer wars of others even if they were restless to move on. By leaving them and the mercenary guild, she had stepped away from life as she knew it. Not necessarily a bad thing. Just she missed the company companions brought.

Reaching the inn, Saber ducked inside letting the door softly shut behind her. Not paying attention to the other patrons, she simply found an empty seat at the bar and settled in comfortable despite her armor. Metal was not the nicest thing to lounge in, however to take it off now with the losing family nearby was suicide. They lost because of her and wouldn't forget it. She would have to content herself with being on extra guard until she got out of the area. After a meal, she could leave right away. Take the main road to the forest and then cut into the underbrush where they were less likely to track and follow her.

Rinto awoke with a shout-- not a scream, a manly shout. A confident bellow. A "Good morning, world! I am here!" sort of announcement. Pity it came three hours too early.

"Y'all right, Tintoo?" his brother growled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Just dandy, Rak." Rinto cast about for some sort of explanation but couldn't find one. "'S fine."

"Her again, weren't it?" Raktan said. It wasn't a question. "Tin, I'm not sleepin' here for my own health. Talk to me."

Rinto opened his mouth, closed it, closed his eyes as flashes from his nightmare came back to dance before his eyes. "Finna was-- s-she was--" dying. He stopped. It still hurt, even after all this time.

He knew why they were doing this, knew this was necessary, but he just couldn't--

"Sorry." He threw off the bedclothes, shrugged into a shirt and pants, and rushed down to the pub for some late-night courage.

*****

Despite all his time with humans and dwarves, Max had never really gotten a taste for meat. Even now, after five years of accepting the stuff as a matter of course, it sat uneasily in his stomach. Still, it was warm and nourishing, and accepting it was a whole lot easier than trying to follow the ways of his people as a nomad.

He rolled over on his pallet. The sleeping arrangements were not too uncomfortable-- though less private than he would have liked-- but he felt restless. His thoughts flicked back to the conversation he'd had in the pub.

"What happened to yer bow?"

Max's sharp quelling look had done nothing to lessen the young dwarf's curiosity. Ignoring him hadn't worked, either. The young man had sat staring at him for nearly ten minutes in complete silence, never moving except to slowly twirl a lock of his shoulder-length red hair around his finger.

"Why do you want to know?" Max had asked.

The dwarf had shrugged. "Yer an elf."

Max's shoulders had straightened automatically at that. "I'm nearsighted" escaped his lips almost as involuntarily.

The young dwarf hadn't known what to say to that, Max remembered with grim satisfaction. No one did.

Mithra hadn't gotten very deep into the forest, only about a mile away from the edge, when she heard a ruckus. She stopped, torn as what to do. She was still to close to town and people for comfort, desperately wanting to run until she got deep in where people rarely if ever ventured. But another part of her told her to check it out, perhaps there was trouble. She stood looking back and forth indecisively, but finally, with an almost inaudible sigh she turned towards the ruckus. She ran through the woods on silent feet for about half a mile before slowing to creep from cover to cover until finally she could see the source of the ruckus.

A little grey donkey stood tired and heavily ladden, its head hanging dejectedly. Its owner, a big, burly, beast of a man, stood cussing at it and whipping it over and over. One look told you that the load was to heavy for the little donkey but the man didn't seem to care. He brought the whip down savagely again and again, across the donkey's rump, sides, neck and head. The little donkey stood bravely as the whip bit into its skin and began to draw blood.

Like a bolt of lightning, rage boiled up in Mithra and her green eyes began to crackle with fire and her red hair began to float on a breeze all of its own. The blue crystal on the end of her staff glowed brighter and the air around her seemed charged with electricity. With a battle cry, she leaped from cover, rage and adrenaline pumping through her veins.

The man spun, startled, but when he saw the maiden before him he made a grave mistake. He relaxed and brushed her off with a sneer. "What are you going to do? Besides, this is my animal and my business."

But Mithra didn't even seem to here a word he said. The shy and timid, forest maiden was gone and in her place stood a fierce, warrior. "How dare you beat this poor creature?" She said in a voice as hard and cold as ice. "Can you not see that the load is too heavy?"

"There is nothing wrong with the load, he is just lazy," the man said, bringing the whip down on the poor animal again.

Mithra's barely controlled rage burst free and she swung her staff towards him, sending out a bolt of lightning from the head. The lightning hit him square in the chest and threw the huge man back five feet and into a tree. He slumped to the ground and lay unmoving, Mithra standing over him.

Onara strolled into the woods outside the bustling city munching on the last of her cinnamon leaf. Birds sang over head, happy for her return and the trees swayed their welcoming branches. Nearby a trio of lithe deer drank from the small gurgling stream. The fawn looked up for a moment, seemingly smiling at the human girl as she walked past them. The forest was such a lovely home away from home, though the bow and quivers at her back reminded her not to be too careless. Onara liked living in the city with people and creatures of all kinds around her but the quiet nature of the forest brought some much needed solitude.

Making her way to a fallen cedar, she found the safe footholds hidden in its great branches and climbed over it with practiced ease. Jumping to the ground she followed the almost invisible path to another cedar with raised roots. She walked under them easily and whistled a simple tune.

The three small faun children came running around the tree, giggling and shouting her name. “Ona! You came!!”

She grabbed both of them in a giant hug and kissed both on the top of their heads, sharing in their giggles. “Of course I came. I wouldn’t forget you on market day! I have something for you...” They all seemed to hold their breath as she reached into her basket and brought out the cinnamon leaves. Their cries of delight made her heart soar as they grabbed them and shoveled buns into their hungry mouths. This was worth two weeks of hard labor. She placed the basket near the oldest of the children. “I also brought you a little fruit and some vegetables. They should last you until next time.”

“O-mank-ou-na,” the child mumbled through her full mouth in her broken English. Onara bit back tears as she hugged them all one more time, then rose to leave. They cried for her to stay but she shook her head. There was much work to be done and she was already running late. Waving to the children she made her way back over the cedar and toward town to her employer’s ranch.

The meal was good and she enjoyed the barkeeper's company. Now as he wrapped up a bundle of food for her, she readied her pack and carefully made room for it. With that taken care of as well as advice from him, she looked around the room. No sign of any disgruntled folks. That was good. Maybe she could get out of town in a timely manner. Thanking the barkeep for the supper and making her way to the door, Saber left and headed toward the edge of town. Her long ponytail swishing gently against her silver and blue armor, a new start to life began.

Reaching the edge of town and getting through the gate, Saber quickened her step. Once she was out of sight of the town guards, she broke into a run and slipped off the main path. Better safe than sorry. She didn't want to chance an ambush waiting for her up ahead. Making her way deeper into the forest, she smiled and slowed her pace. Looking forward with a grin of accomplishment, she mentally congratulated herself on a job well done. The Silver Falcons would be proud of her. She should go visit them this winter during the off season.

Max sighed and got up. He'd retired early in the hopes that his exhaustion would lead to restful slumber, but his body was too used to being awake at this hour for him to relax.

Or maybe it missed huddling under a blanket on the cold, hard ground in the middle of the forest.

Either way, he was wasting his time here. Max packed his bag efficiently and neatly and looked toward the door. If he went through it, he'd undoubtedly run into another one of those curious dwarves, and the barkeep would probably start worrying that there was something wrong with the room, and-- no.

He walked to the window and looked down. A portion of shingled roof angled gently down; he could easily stand on it. There was a tree growing just a little too close to the house for comfort; he could probably climb it to the ground. Max slid the lower portion of the window up and stuck his head outside, followed by his arms and shoulders.

This was one of the few times he was glad to be elf-built.

*****

Rinto found he was too wound up to sit quietly at the bar. After downing only half of his ale, he slapped some change from his pockets onto the counter and rushed outside. A tree near the corner of the pub caught his attention, and he walked over to it and sat down, letting the bark dig into his back.

He could still see bits and pieces of his dream on his eyelids when he closed them. She'd been so close-- so close-- she'd been reaching out to him, and then when he'd reached back, she'd started melting like the metals he used in his forge.

Rustling in the tree above caught his attention, and he looked up. Apparently an elf had decided to cut his stay at the pub short. Interesting. They didn't get many elves in these parts, and not one of them had ever tried to sneak out. He couldn't imagine an elf buying something he couldn't pay for or trying to escape if he had. Or backing down from a fight, if it came to that. What, then, was this one up to?

Mithra stood over the man, her green eyes still flashing with fire. She looked like some warrior princess as she stared down at the man, ready to attack again. A snort from the donkey snapped her out of the warrior fog and she looked around, blinking. The fire had gone out of her eyes and her hair lay motionless down her back again. Her eyes drifted back down to the man who still lay motionless. Concern skittered through her, as she knelt and felt at his neck. There was no pulse; the man was dead.

Concern turned to panic as Mithra heard voices nearby. Had someone heard the commotion and was coming to check it out? She scrambled up the nearest trees and the tree seemed to magically conceal her in its greenery. She waited silently, hoping that no one would come.

Onara entered her small room and closed the door gently behind her, careful not to wake any of the other workers. She slipped her quiver off and placed it and her bow near her bed. Then she plopped face down onto the soft quilts, not even caring of the growling of her stomach demanding she eat. So tired.... It was planting time and even though she was to guard the workers as they worked on the outer edges of the ranch, she was put to work plowing and planting. Her muscles were so sore she didn't think she could move ever again.

Onara sighed. It was only early evening, too early to turn in and stay on her normal sleep cycle. She slowly slid off the bed and dragged herself around gathering personal items needed to wash. A bath would do her sore muscles good and ensure she could move efficiently tomorrow. As she made her way to the women's wash room, the image of her faun friends laughing made her smile again. She couldn't wait to see them and the forest again. And with the work she did today, it might be sooner than usual.