" Lishnil can you tell me why it is that if this place is being attacked then why have the guilds not come to gether to fight as one instead of fighting alone. I fighter with a mage by his side is much stronger then just by him self." Raven asked with dismay. " And one more thing. Has anyone thought about looking for help from magic creatures. Like the syters or the fey folk?"

[OMG: GM UPDATE!]
[Fighter's Guild: Raven and Mikina]
"Nearly invincible, but hardly infinite numbers.  They've always had lesser numbers then us," he says as he turns to view Mikina.  He then turns his head back towards Raven.  "Our guild and the Archers Guild have no problem with that.  The mages guild is having trouble doing that due to politcal bloating, though I hear some mages have said 'forget you' to the council and stepped forward to help.  The Wilder's Guild refuses to help due to internal struggles.  The cler-," he stops as a cleric trudges up on a horse.

The cleric has a scroll in his hand.  "We've recieved word from the capital that our leading priest is to step down.  Jinshi Yaramoru has stepped up to take lead of our actions here, and unlike his predecessor, has decided to aid your guild and the other guilds.  We'll be setting up a Hallow upon the town grounds as soon as possible, though the supplies to make such a large Hallow area will take a while to gather.  We probably won't have it up until tommorrow, which means we need to hold off the attacks for tonight."

Lishnel smiles.  "This is excelent news.  I've got some good news as well.  There are some groups of mages taking side with us.  It isn't the whole guild, but it's better then nothing.  Our best bet would be to remove the fat one from his seat of power.  Also, there has been a Palidin of Torm going about trying to gather the Guilds into a single entity for this battle.  He's currently at the Wilder's guild."

"Good news to hear.  I'm going to return to the others of my group now."

"Fair travels.  Me and a few other commanders will be dropping by later.  We'll use your place to discuss battle planes."

The Cleric rides off with a nod.  Lishnel looks back at the Raven and Mikina.  "...That problem seems to have solved itself.  I'm going to change my answer about the Guild-Wide alliance to 'it's only a matter of time'."

[Mage's Guild: Yashwi]
The apprentice, being one of those that belongs to Cuthernus, is a bit more 'high and mighty' then others would be, and doesn't accept the tone of voice well.  "How dare you talk to me like that sir?  What makes you think you're so important?  A fool like you cou--"

"ENOUGH!" comes the shout from the hallway.  "The only fool here is you, Apprentice!  Now shut your mouth before I make it dissapear!"

The Apprentice shuts up and goes back to the papers.

A middle aged man walks into view from the 'halls' past the apprentice.  "I am Master Jordan.  How may I be of assistance to you?"

[Wilder's Guild: Twain, Favarin, and Darwin]
"It talks, it smiles, and it does other tricks, too.  First time I saw a Palidin with a pet," the barbarian says with a grin to Favarin.

The ranger leads Twain and Darwin into the central 'hall'.  From there he leads them straight forward into a chamber-like area of the tent.  Three people sit at a table, arguing.  The one on the right is a half-elf with curly brown hair and prominent ears for someone of his apperent liniage.  The one in the center looks like a fairly aged elf with grey hair and the robes of her position.  Finally, the one on the left is a large dwarf with an equally large axe and an unkept beard.  They seem to be arguing.

The ranger who lead you in walks a head.  "Sirs.  We have company."

[Out on the Town: Shelna]
There are many places to go.  The freshest on your mind is The Sleeping Giant.  Really, where you go is up to you, not me.

---

Serrif:

Reality-(noun) illusion caused by lack of alcohol
Beer(noun) medicine used to relive people from hallucinations

Technoguild

Shelna heads to the Sleeping Giant.

(OK, here we go again…)

 

Sir Twain stands quietly behind and to the side of the ranger waiting for the three guild masters to settle down so that proper introductions could commence.

(P.S. Master Jordan is the Man! :D )

Mikina heads over to the Wilder's guild to see what help she can expect form them.

---

KITTY KITTY DANCE GO

**KNC Member**
**B-Unit Minister of Warm Fuzzy Kawaii Things**

DeviantArt site

The Kitlings!

Darwin follows Sir Twain into the room of the tent.  He then looks around the room in complete silence.

---

A life, heh who needs one, I got it all here in RPing and video games.

Favarin grins, "Far from a pet, simply helping him trying to organize the groups here into something resembling a decent defense. From what I hear your guild has been having some troubles working together...I was hoping I could get a bit of information on why that is. You're all working toward a common purpose no?"

---

Curse you stumble button!

* a ship comes frome the back at high speeds*

((hope you guys dont mind if i join in))

(Uh, this game died long ago when the forums had an overhaul. Sorry but this game ended short.)

((It did? =3 Oh...

*Pistol Whips Thor.* I don't care if that was before my warning. Use some proper grammar. And get a profile up. No one is joining this RP without an aproved profile.

Now, Life Cycle Restart in 3, 2, 1... BAMPF!!!))

[GM Update]
[Wilder's Guild: Twain, Favarin, and Darwin]
"Yea, these golems are a test from our god to see the metal of us barbarians. We're not gonna let those others ruin out test," the barbarian said. "A free minotaur that doesn't smash things because it's a minotaur... Now I've heard everything."

Inside the tent, the air feels tense from the discord between the three leaders, and seems to weigh down on all in the room. Still, the half-elf gets up first, his chainmail shirt jingling lightly. "Welcome, sir paladin. I am Jager Habin, Head Ranger of the Wilders Guild. You've come at a rough time, but we welcome you all the same. To my right here is the High Druid Priestest Zia ma-Kun. To my right is the mightiest of barbarians, Rufus Harbinger, Slayer of Gazagorg. How might we be able to help you?"


[The Sleeping Giant: Shelna]
Just as before, the tent is filled with stinky adventurers guzzling their fill of mead and beer. That's ontop of telling their tall tales, of course. There are a few empty tables about, not to mention the empty seats at the bar.

---

Serrif:

Reality-(noun) illusion caused by lack of alcohol
Beer(noun) medicine used to relive people from hallucinations

Technoguild

The Dark elf, a true power noting the change from the apprentice to someone who was probably in better standing than the previous individual, and instantly locked his gaze with the middle-aged man.  Although he was probably far older and possibly far more powerful, Yashwi didn't think of those things, he merely let his thoughts of life dissipate as his sinister magic, his personality, was unleashed.  A slight smile was all the man got, as Yashwi's vocal tone changed slightly from indignation to interest,

"Master Jordan, is it?"

Said Yashwi, his vocal inflection pointing at the mere ridiculousness of such an individual carrying a title such as Master, and upon that thought, considered how he should introduce himself, considering his position.  Power would call to power, no?  But then that may reveal something of who he was, something he didn't plan on revealing as of yet.

"I am the Journeyman Wizard Yailan, and I seek information concerning the golem attacks upon the city, including approval to approach the problem through my own methods.  I know that you will give help to me, Master, for I can figure out a decent solution."

Of course he was vague, something he would probably have to continue being if he wanted to maintain one of the intricate identities he held.  One of the more difficult parts of him being alive and working toward a solution and gaining suitable contacts within the surface world.

---

"... if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for Destruction Ice is also great
And would suffice."
- Robert Frost

(Hoo boy, time to get back into the Paladin role…)

Navrick nods to each in turn as they are introduced. Once this as finished he places his fist on his chest in salute and introduces himself… (again) “Hail and well met I am Sir Navrick Twain; I come before your council to seek your aid, your wisdom, and your might in the struggle laid before us.” The paladin gazes at them confidently in his gleaming golden plate mail. “The guilds are coming together; already the fighters and archers consolidating our defenses, an order of mages have sworn to offer their aid in defense of these unnatural abominations.”

He pauses for a moment hoping that pointing out how the golems are an insult to nature would incite the druid into following along.

“It is my orders sacred duty to protect the innocent who reside here as it is the divine duty of many of the clerical orders here; it won’t take much to bring them over.” His eyes lock with the barbarian’s “As individuals our strength pales before this foe…” He holds up a single finger. “As a wolf pack works in coordination so must we, alone we are weak… together we are strong.” He lowers his finger and closes his hand into a fist which he slams into the palm of his hand for emphasis.

Sir Twain’s gaze shifts to each in turn as he goes on. “Although we already have several guilds organizing there are still chinks in the armor, our strengths complement each other and in the face of this seemingly unstoppable foe we will need each other, I beseech you, put aside your dispute for now so that we may put an end to this once and for all.”

Favarin sees a familiar glint of warrior stubborness in this guard's eyes. He remembered the days long ago in which that same glint had been in his own eyes. He remembered quite well how fervently he had believed in the tests of his gods, but his new knowledge of the world had shed light upon them, indeed he had taken a completely different philosophy. He didn't expect to have an effect on this one barbarian, but he had to try if not just to say he did.

He spoke calmly, but with an inner fierceness, that of which a warrior would recognize as the tone of one on the brink of a great battle. He hoped his tone would make his suggestion carry a little more weight and penetrate the thick walls of the normal workings of barbarian thinking, "I come from a noble tribe in the north of these lands, we had believed that those ways of thinking were the ways of the gods. One of our wisest elders, an odd thinker by our standards, had a thought then. The gods did not place rules upon us, they did not come down in physical form and tell us 'These trials are for you alone.' We are simply meant to deal with the trials however we can to gain the god's respect and honor. Wouldn't it please the gods to show that your mighty tribe is not only strong in body, but also in mind? For a person who can bash his was out of a problem is useful, a person who can think of a way to use less bashing to achive the same goal is more useful. By asking the help of others you will gain more favor in the god's eyes, not to mention leave more of your tribe alive to continue your clan. We found the gods blessed us more when we kept more of our warriors alive by using the resources the gods gave us, namely anyone who would be our comrades in battle. Perhaps you and your tribe should consider that?" Favarin paused shortly then added, "Of course, I wish no emnity with your noble people. You are honorable in your pursuit of independence, but my tribe found that the rewards were greater when we were honorable enough to swallow our honor and take the help of others. Your gods may look even more favorably upon you for asking for help for the sake of the innocent. Take what you will of this, do not dismiss it easily though. Honor be yours." Favarin bowed his head and bent his torso slightly to the barbarian, leaving him to thought, and followed Twain's path to the tent. He brushed the flap aside quietly, trying to be as inconspicuous as a minotaur can possibly be, not to mention trying very hard to keep a friendlyl face on so he wasn't skewered by an over-zealous guard.

So he had been less than truthful to the barbarian, it was silly to him for people to die for pride. He hadn't actually deviated from the truth much, as there was a queer thinking elder in his village, the only untrue part was that the elder wasn't paid as much attention to as Favarin made out. The elder had made it through to about a third of the tribe, who eventually broke off. They remained in friendly relations, but they were much more successful, for they took their way of thinking to other tribes who helped them in return for help. That course seemed to Favarin the best thing to do now, he was appauled he was too thick to see it before. He himself had scoffed the elder, after his encounter with the wizard who gave him his...abilities...he realized his mistake.

Favarin quietly listens to the conversation between the leaders and Twain.

---

Curse you stumble button!

[Mage's Guild: Yashwi]
"Yes, Master Jordan.  Are you hard of hearing, Journyman?  These golems...   Their strange ones.  Metal machinations that fire searing beam type spells that only our walls of force and best of magical armors can seem to stop, while their armor seems to hold off all but our best.  I have my own theories on what they might be and have more information from the accounts of others, but...  Before I reveal anymore, I want to hear about your idea," Jordan responded, crossing his arms, staring down Yashwi.  The suprising thing was that it wasn't because he thought Yashwi was planning something sinister or the like.  Jordan more figured that Yashwi really was a journyman and was planning something that was possibly stupid, and Jordan wanted to be sure that wasn't the case.

[Wilder's Guild: Twain, Favarin, and Darwin]
As Favarin was leaving, it did appear that the barbarian was stopping to think for a minute...

Inside was the same problem just bigger.  Rufus was quick to respond.  "There IS no dispute!  This is OUR test from our gods.  All of you are just impeading on it.  My clan and the other clans will meet this threat and win, proving our might to the god Thambril, He who made the mountains rise and sovreign of the Barbarians!  We don't need the help of those other guilds or our strength will not be seen!"

"You're a fool, Rufus...  There is nothing you can do...  This is punishment from the gods for defiling our Mother and Hostess, Kirri.  These mines are wounds in here that ache her every day.  These bug-like golems are here to remove the knife that ails her and heal her wound.  And all these people gathering here are not helping!  That's why the attacks have grown in strength!" Zia responds, projecting her voice well enough without yelling, though it is clear that she, too, is annoyed.

"Will both of you quite your squabbling!" Jager yells, slamming his gloved fist down on the table.  "I'm tired of hearing your religious non-sense right now.  Yes, we need to care for Kirri, but these golems have not destroyed equipement!  They just kill soldiers and steal metal.  They have a goal here involving that metal, can you not see that!  This is no test!  IF it were a test, wouldn't they be in the barbarian lands!?"

"You are blind and deaf to Kirri, despite saying you are a protector of her, Jager.  She yearns for healing here.  I can feel it."

"Both of ya are morons!  The texts from our Great Spirit Warrior Lansord mentions this and states it as one of our tests!"

---

Serrif:

Reality-(noun) illusion caused by lack of alcohol
Beer(noun) medicine used to relive people from hallucinations

Technoguild

Favarin keeps silently observing. Wanting to soak up more of the conversation before interjecting his points of view, thinking that if he spoke too soon he could potentially ruin anything that could be done after the three had worn themselves out by arguing. He did give a small snort of exasperation at the narrow-minded pride of the differenc races whenever they were in the same room, enough to make his presence known but not enough to seem that he was trying to interrupt the meeting.

---

Curse you stumble button!