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The Dungeon of Doom!; Fantasy adventure RP
Topic Started: Feb 14 2015, 09:21 PM (1,102 Views)
MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"A curious locale!" Chimed a sing-song voice accompanied by the jingling of a few bells.

The entertainer known as Tantric the Fool adjusted their mask with a gloved hand, feet marching in place. "Come now come now, single file, one at a time! All aboard the arboreal express, ladies, gentlemen, children and myself!" The jester's head swung this way and that, but not with any sort of apparent eye contact. No, the mask would make that far too impossible to read.

"Oh, I simply can't resist!" Tantric said with a giggle. "What does this tree and our lovely get-together have in common? They're both green and have some bark!"
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Un-Persona
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Mains Shaggy Verde
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"My my, seems like we have so little time..."

They would be prove to make interesting comradeship, Yez was certain of that. Truly, they would make for some fine songs and tales, generations to come. That was a meager prize in the terms of things though. The true reward was the experience, the adventure, the journey. But the poets needed their fun too.

Yez flicked the quiff of his hair, and strutted towards the door, dice jingling in his coat pocket. He looked behind him, then towards the darkness of the dungeon and it's soft, warm, orange glow. He gently grabbed the first torch strapped to the walls by notched bars, pushing it up till it was in his grasp. He brought the flame closer to his face, a sparkle in his eye.

"Shall we, friends? Pardon if I may be impatient."
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dmboogie
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A Delicate Machine
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"Good for nothin' adventurers..."

Sam had been darkly muttering to herself ever since she came face to face with those she would soon be fighting alongside. Almost every one of them seemed to be some flavor of mage, too. Sam trusted their kind about as far as they could throw her with their twiggy little arms. Mages by themselves were bad enough, but this lot was especially terrible. A useless nobleman? A clown? An actual child? (In any other circumstance Sam would have dragged him off by his ear in search of his parents, but something about him unnerved her.)

The wolf was good, though. Sam would have gladly ditched the rest of their party and gone along with her. As it was, she had to settle for surreptitiously scratching Bernie behind the ears during the mayor's speech.

Only one other person in the party seemed to even know the value of a good set of armor. Sam edged closer to Mirvea. She was still an adventurer, sure, but a lot of sins could be forgiven for having the sense to bring almost enough weaponry as a whole armory. "S'good to see not the only one who actually came prepared."
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Yugikun
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maybe if you're lucky the random avatar will sync up to the character you're reading right now
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Well, this was an... odd group, to say the least.

Carlile Grantz looked around, and saw the people who he would have to be travelling with for the next couple of days. He had already brought this up in his head, but to say the least, nobody in the group looked remotely like anyone else here. There was a dog, what seemed to be a nobleman, a clown, an adventurer, a kid (younger than Carlile, himself, couldn't be older than 10), someone who had some armor, and a monk. None of them seemed to be dead, and there weren't any visible wounds on their body.

He sighed. So long as they could help him get the job done and get him out alive, it didn't matter if they weirded him out.

He sat down. Nothing was happening, and there wasn't any need to stand up. He didn't need to talk to anyone, and nobody in particular seemed like someone he would like to talk to either. There was one thing he thought he needed to do, though.

He stared at the Mayor. Carlile had recieved intel in that the ghost that he was searching for was in the dungeon. While he trusted the source, he didn't want to go into the dungeon before he knew that the person he was looking for was actually in there.

So, he decided to do a little trick.



The words <Previous Adventurers> were implanted in the Mayor's mind.
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The Past


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NotAFlyingToy
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Southern motherfuckin' democratic republicans.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
There were many things that Bernie loathed about humanity and humans in general, specifically those that her kind snarlingly referred to as town-kin. Humans had grubby little hands that smelled of all the foul things on the earth, no matter how much they dunked them into drinking-pools. Humans had no fur to speak of - the greedy little parasites actually resorted to stealing wild-kin's skin and donning it over their useless, defenseless, gross bodies. Humans also locked wonderfully smelling slices of wild bison and boar and various other delicacies into various store cabinets that Bernie's large paws lacked the dexterity or strength to break into.

But the worst of the humans - the very, positively worst - were the human-cubs who had filthy mouths and sticky fingers and enjoyed burying them into one's fur. One would have to then stand, biting back the urge to sink one's jaws into the nearest limb while one was subjected to a revoltingly sweet smelling spray and cold water.

Bernie's yellow eyes drifted to the human cub as he crept closer, and her hind quarters quivered with the instinct to dance away from her. She needed to be good, now. Her free wild-kin dinners and tasty monster eating would all go up in smoke if she bit another human cub.

As the man droned onwards in words that weren't commands (and so Bernie felt no compelling reason to listen) she felt fingers bury themselves in her fur, between her ears. In defiance of this unwelcome touch, she kept her ears ramrod straight and pointed towards the mayor, refusing to acknowledge that the touch was hitting a very satisfying spot.

Another of the party - a curious human who wore a fake face - made a spectacle of himself. Someone urged the party onwards. The human-cub crept closer.

Bernie lay down, crossed her front paws, and heaved out a sigh.
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Deamon
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Humans...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
There were a lot of emotions swirling within Mirvea. Excitement, anxiety, fear. She was happy to be finally allowed to raid a dungeon but she was anxious about what it actually entailed. On top of that no one in her group seemed to be anything like an adventurer as her mother had described them bar one. One of who had just started talking to her.

Mirvea had never been good at talking to people. She had never really been taught how; it had taken a backseat to the adventurer training. Mirvea looked away from the mayor and gave Sam a small smile. "Yeah. I think I have everything we'd ever need." That sounded about right didn't it? She had originally equipped herself but then her mother had waded in and given her almost anything she could possibly need. Mirvea had decided against telling her that she probably wouldn't need half of it. Last time she'd questioned her mother she'd been hung from a tree until she managed to escape her bonds. Her mother had almost been proud of how quickly she'd escaped. Almost.

The nobleman had grabbed a torch off the wall; she was finally going into a dungeon. Her whole life had been leading up to this moment. It was exhilarating. Taking a cautious step forward before stopping to look over her shoulder Mirvea almost sighed. Her mother wasn't watching, this would be her doing everything entirely by herself. She smiled at Sam again. "Shall we enter?" Before walking forward to the nobleman with more confidence. She was finally going to prove herself.
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Travis "Trav" Lynch - - They Stumbled Into Faith and Thought
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"They'll tell you failure is not an option. That is ridiculous. Failure is always an option. Failure is the most readily available option at all times. But it's a choice. You can choose to fail. You can choose to succeed."
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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
With the larger part of the party still outside the door, a bit of red and black slipped through the crowd and past the threshold of the door to make the number of adventurers inside the dungeon now two.

"Wonderful initiative!" Tantric cheered, turning and facing the rest of the group still outside, soaking up the last bits of sun they'd be getting for a while. "This fellow of pearly hue has been joined by one that makes two! Should we rush on ahead, we'll surely be dead, so we'll be needing the rest of you!" The jester began jogging in place following the urgent come-ons, pressing a couple gloved fingers to the neck just below the jawline.

"Pulse still good, circulation easy. Showtime never makes me queasy!"

Tantric slid past Yez and peered deeper into the dungeon.
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Deamon
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Humans...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The jester slipped past her and started to speak in rhyme. Mirvea had never had any real experience with jesters before and she wasn't sure if she liked this one. He was more than a little weird, at the same time though at least he was eager. She approached the jester and the noble. Both were standing just within the entrance to the dungeon.

She had a lot of thoughts going through her mind. All the different things she needed to keep track of, watch out for and be prepared for. So many things that it would be next to impossible to keep track of all of it at once.

"You reckon there'll be any traps close to the entrance?" She didn't know if either of them had an answer and even doubted they would. But asking made her feel better.
Kimiko Kao - - - - - - - The Lagniappe
Travis "Trav" Lynch - - They Stumbled Into Faith and Thought
Cameron Herrig - Ω - Ω - Shock Me

V5
Unknowns
"They'll tell you failure is not an option. That is ridiculous. Failure is always an option. Failure is the most readily available option at all times. But it's a choice. You can choose to fail. You can choose to succeed."
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Un-Persona
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Mains Shaggy Verde
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Some of the others seemed hesitant. To be expected, Yaz was sure. But still, they couldn't be outside here forever. They had responsibilities to uphold.

He turned to Mirvea, with a query.

"Traps...you can bet on it. It is the Dungeon of Doom. If that's not a forgoing title I don't know what is."

The clown had slipped past Yez. A curious one, if not adventurous.

"Fret not though, I'll take point. One dungeon, 8 friends. The odds are in our favor."

With that, Yez skipped into the dungeon with a misstep, tumbling like a boulder shortly after.
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