[GM Post 1, begining the game...]
Welcome, dear player, to We're Not Alone, my first RP here.  This RP is open to Main Characters and New Characters alike, though I'm leaving a restrictiong of one character per player.  I, on the other hand, try to keep my own character's out of my RPs, so Don't expect to see Alex, Qesun, or Zalen.  This RP will be one of the longer, more epic ones, visiting several locations.  I have a habit of keeping my RPs to a challenging level, so beware now.  Also, besides being an RP, it serves a secondary purpose as a teaching tool for me for those who wish to learn how to make a successful RP and how to paragraph RP (if you so wish to learn to Para-RP).  The setting is the same system; aka, dimension; everyone elses RPs take place in.  As for the RPs mood, this will require a combination of ability and wits, and will have a decent mix of fast and slow paced spots.

There have been rumers recently of golems raiding the mining town of Gilshineer in the mountains of Jorik'nal.  No normal Golems, though.  From what is said, they are made of only the finest metal and that they fire burning spell bolts that aren't stopped by antimagic fields and will burn thtough any armor; even metalic armor; unless it is either enchanted or made of Admantine or better.  Those who survived close combat with these beasts say that not only stronger then the average human, but that their wicked close range weapons release electronic shocks or evil hisses as they strike their foe, doing as much damage as most average magical weapons.  They come once every 7 nights, taking any metals available.  People think the creatures are taking the metals to make more of their own kind.  Adventurers have begun gathering in Gilshineer.

You've come, too, in hopes of helping bring down these strange invaders.  The sun is obscured by the clouds, as a forboding fealing hangs in the air like a thick fog, as tonight is the night they raid again.  Tents are scattered about the town, as the inns have already been filled.  Some smart businessmen, though, have brought several very large tents and segmented them into rooms, selling off the space as if the tent sections were inn rooms.  They even have a kitchen and a cafeteria of sorts open.  There is still space in the large tents.  Better hurry.

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Serrif:

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

Technoguild

Favarin walks up the last hill to the mining town of Gilshineer. Sweating slightly from the noon-day heat and his thick fur. His axe, Nira, and his great bow which he has lovingly named Sunray, both hang from his back, he has two quivers stuffed with arrows hanging at his belt on either side of his hips. He wipes the sweat from his brow and takes a look around the countryside. Green up to the town, then rock, typical for a mining town. He sees the tent pavillion and makes for it, looking principally at the steam and smoke coming from the largest one.

Favarin finishes his way down the hill and comes up to the tent smiling at the thought of a good hearty meal. He, however, is welcomed by none too friendly looks, very many gasps, a few screams, and the sound of a couple of blades being drawn. He curses himself, all too often forgetting that people normally do not like seeing a minotaur stomp up to their tents. .oO(I have to start remembering this...too long among the tribe I suppose.) He throws his hands foreward and speaks in the most polite and apoligetic voice he can, "Peace good people please. I am only here to help. My name is Favarin, I've come to aid your town with it's golem problem. I don't ask you to trust me just yet, but I hope you eventually will, I only hope that you accept me as you would any half-orc or dwarven barbarian offering the same service. It would be lovely if you were to allow me a meal and a bed."

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Curse you stumble button!

Just then, cresting the hill...

Atop a tall powerfully built steed of the purest white comes an equally tall and powerfully built man; the horse is draped with a tabard of white and gold silk depicting a golden dragon upon either side. The man is dressed in beautiful full plate armor brightly polished to perfection; it is obviously of the finest craftsmanship. Strapped to his back is an equally well made shield depicting a right handed gauntlet with palm forward. At his waist a beautiful hand and a half sword with a silver hilt topped with a sparkling diamond. The man's golden locks gleam in the sunlight almost as bright as his armor, his cool blue eyes gaze upon the gathered people from his handsome face as he slowly trots into view.

Coming to a halt he gazes at the Minotaur his eyes seeming to bore into the creature's very soul. In a clear resounding voice he states "I cannot say if this one speaks true, but his heart is pure." He nods to the Minotaur and then looks to the men who had unsheathed their blades. "I am Sir Navrick Twain, Paladin of Torm; I ask you, sheath your swords."

Darwin rides up the hill on a hourse up to the town.  Once he reaches where the people arecongugating around the Minitaur and the other person on the horse.  "Hello, I heard of your troubles so I came to help out.  I am Darwin Talkash at your serves."  He leaps off his horse.  "So Mr. Mininataur you here to help also.  May I know what your name is?"

 

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

((Spelled minotaur Kori ))

Favarin watches as one by one the people with blades drawn sheath them. He sighs in relief and turns to the paladin, "Thank you Sir Twain. I owe you one for that, should these golems be real don't forget that. I am Favarin, from a minotaur tribe in the north...how I came here is a long story, perhaps later we'll meet again and we can talk." He turns to Darwin, "As you heard, my name is Favarin." He holds out his hand to shake Darwin's.

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Curse you stumble button!

Darwin shakes his hand.  "It is a pleasure to meet you Favarin.  So shall we go some where to talk more about these golem attacks and also try to think of a way to stop them?" 

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

Favarin looks at the man, "Ahh, I suppose. I'm going in to get something to eat. How about you and Sir Twain come and join me? We can talk all we want about the predicament this town is in as we eat."

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Curse you stumble button!

Sir Twain smiles, “You may call me Navrick if you wish, and I would love to accompany the two of you.” He pats his horse which knickers back at him, “Allow me to stable my horse and I will join you presently.” He points down to a large open air tavern with a blue banner naming it the Sleeping Giant, “That one appears as good as any." he pauses, "However I believe it would be a good Idea if we found out who was in charge and got as much information on the situation from him before we settle down to plan strategy."

((Meh...  Looks like that's all the players I'm going to get...  There's still join time, though...))

The sad thing, though, is that when you look upon the town, which is halfway composed of tents of adventurers and mud at this point, is that it doesn't look like there is much organization.  There are a few guilds down there, as you can see by their insignias on their tent groups, and there are definetly small groups of roughly 3-8 adventurers.

There are somethings that show that there is (very) loose organization between everyone.  So far, nearly everyone has pitched in to build wooden baracades.  Some mages even pitched in and augmented the walls with 'Wall of Force' spells (except for the doors, of course).  There are still gaps, though, and people are just doing it on a whim, some pieces of the wall being different from the others, like one section being made of stone thanks to another mage with the 'Wall of Stone' spell and permanancy, or some towers summened with scrolls or the like and having permanancy used on them.

There are some patrols on the wall, if you could call them such.  They're really just spotters for some group or another up there so they can tell their guild or group if something is out there.  The town militia might get up there themselves if they weren't too busy trying to make some order in all of the chaos.

Something Sir Twain will probably notice is the lack of representation from the Palidins of Torm, or any Palidins for that matter.  Surely the Cleregy has representation and certainly have their palidins, but those palidins are nothing but guards for the Cleregy.

There is still plenty of time in this day.  It's only around noon.  There is much one (or more ) could do here...

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Serrif:

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

Technoguild

((Spelt Paladin. ))

Sir Twain looks about the fortifications, they aren’t the best he had seen but they didn't look too shabby; as for the lack of organization, well he would have to do something about that. "I will need to find who is overseeing this operation; from the looks of things it just seems to be various guilds and adventuring companies working together."

His gaze hardens. "They don't seem very well organized, should an attack be staged on this location; well let’s just hope it doesn't happen for now." He looks over to the two near him. "Have you any training?"

A female elf with a smallish build walks up to the others. she is wearing a short, airy, green dressand is carrying a quarterstaff. although she seems frail and childlike, she had a fearless look in her eyes.

"Hi, I am Mikina, from the distant elven knigdom of Kamyla. I wish to help you destroy these abominations to the natural order.. plus... it sounds kinda fun! tee-hee!"

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KITTY KITTY DANCE GO

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

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The Kitlings!

The paladin dismounts as it would be improper for him to ride as she walks, "It would be an honor for you to accompany us miss; as of now I am going to see about organizing this place." He smiles confidently, "I am sure it won't take long before this place it is properly defended; then we will be able to investigate the problem at its source without fear of an attack on our base of operations."

He starts walking his mount to the stable, "Let Darwin and my self stable our horses and we will get to work.” He pauses and looks thoughtful, “You are a druid are you not my lady?”

The conversation will continue as he walks his horse to the stables where he hands the boy a few gold coins and tells him to brush, water, and feed his horse. He is instructed to use the special oat blend tied to the saddle bags.

Favarin nods to the elf before turning his head to the paladin, "I have no formal training, but I have about 60 or so years of minotaur culture, hunting, gathering, pillaging, fighting with other tribes...that I have to draw off of. Plus another 10 of adventuring around the world. I like to think I'm a good strategist, I've learned from many of my experiences over the years how to act in certain situations. I can use my axe better than probably any man, or elf, or orc here by a long shot, and I can use my bow as well as any man, maybe better. I will help you however I can Navrick. But, so long as that can all wait for this particular second, I'm quite hungry and thirsty, so I will meet you in the Sleeping Giant." He nods again at the elf politely, then at Darwin, and strolls off to the tavern tent.

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Curse you stumble button!

"Well I have been around swords most of my life.  I know very well how to use that and my trusty bow."  Darwin gets off his horse. 

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

Sir Twain nods, "Any military or paramilitary experience, any history with commanding or overseeing a group of soldiers?"

((OOC About what power level are we supposed to be anyway Qesun?))