[Global Event] The Great Meeting

Mon Nov 28, 2016 7:26 pm

There was nothing but disappointment in him when Nauta realized that the possibility he had suggested gained no traction. Disappointment was the emotion which had taken away his hope, not the fear the Immortals had been so wary about. The gathered fools trusted the Immortals too much to realize the danger was not their deaths which the Immortals wished to lead them to, but the danger which Faldrun posed in his desire to see everything burn and fail. Nauta the deserter from Sirothelle knew it well. If the Immortal of Fire was dangerous even to his own, could he be anything else to his opponents?

At least when it came to Faldrun everyone knew where they stood whether they were for him or against him. These other Immortals however, the ones at the meet seemed just as bad if not worse. Through his investigations, Nauta was sure these Immortals had not even allowed the pitiful mortals they had gathered to know the full story. Instead of the important details like the third Immortal behind this plot, the Immortals decided to send these poor souls to their death with nothing but sweet words and cheap tricks. As Moseke had demonstrated the Immortals could already do so much on their own, why the need to bring the mortals to Ne'haer or to send them to Oscillus at all?

For Nauta the answer was simple even as he recalled his days in Sirothelle, of how Faldrun had used him and his kin for his conflicts. Although Qylios had insisted the contrary, what use would the Immortals have of the mortals other than as tools and cannon fodder? If there was a positive quality to Faldrun and not even a redeeming one, it was him not even trying to manipulate his Aukari. With him it was always to eradicate his enemies. Qylios? Moseke? These other Immortals? Nauta would not be surprised if after the power they had demonstrated, there would be some left unseen which kept everyone blind to all the dangers but the ones which suited the agenda of the Immortals.

But Nauta would not let his skepticism get in the way of any benefits which the Immortals may have chosen to freely bestow. Why could he not make use of the Immortals as they had chosen to use the mortals? He had already sustained damage from Immortals when he attempted to board the ships and, shadows when he had aided in the defense of Ne'haer. If he was to survive Oscillus he knew he had to be at his full strength and, the excited declarations of those blessed by Moseke told him what he needed. It was something he had no confidence in, until he felt his own body which recovered from her power.

Even so Nauta still got himself some rest and prepared himself before his return to the Judgment Halls at the appointed time. While he made the decision to never again be used by any Immortal in his desertion, he reasoned this time he was the one to use them as he did Moseke. The opportunity he wanted had not even shown itself to him yet, although he was sure he would find it in Oscillus. Everything he was told by the shrine had been proven true so far, even more than the Ne'haer Immortals had chosen to let him and the other mortals know. If there was any he would even trust in these affairs, it would be them even if they were the shadowy ones.

However all his plans and schemes which seemed to have come into perfect harmony, everything changed when the Fire Nation Sirothelle attacked. The only thing in Nauta's mind other than how he had already told all the fools of the danger Faldrun would be, was his desire to be as far away from the heated battle as he could because of his genetic disposition. The last time he saw an Immortal act against the Aukari of Faldrun, he witnessed half their number erupt from his power. Had Nauta not gotten himself to the ships already, he would have been caught up in it to face the same fate as his kin.

No doubt Xiur, the Immortal of "Hope" would not lose any sleep if Nauta had been caught in the crossfire, even if they were on the same side. That was the Immortals were as Nauta believed them to be. However Nauta would not fear their power as long as it would help him. He rushed where the people caught unprepared by the attack were headed, which seemed to be the Judgement Halls although there were those he had seen which rushed to defend the city. Not him though. He was too smart to get caught up in a battle which could not be won, in a ruined city which had been constantly under siege and filled with the untrained masses collected from all over Idalos.

Which meant Nauta had no other goal but to survive and nothing else mattered, not even the man incinerated by Faldrun which would have allowed Nauta to have his "I told you so" moment. However while he might have had military training in Sirothelle, he had been posted as a City Guard which allowed him to be familiar with the idea that goals may change at any time, not just the blind obedience to orders. The instruction of the woman at the portal was a good one though and Nauta rushed right in, a new goal to get away from the Immortal which had controlled him all his life.

Mon Nov 28, 2016 10:25 pm

The boat ride had been relatively peaceful. Of course, no ride upon water could be considered completely smooth, but Xiur’s use of starlight definitely helped to make the journey calm. That calm was almost certainly necessary, because the Etzori were tired and mentally exhausted from their recent battle against Faldrun and his zealots. There had been losses, and some aboard the boats grieved for the fallen, though most continued, stony faced to the emotional trauma that had been inflicted upon them. The wounded were cared for aboard the various boats, medical supplies shifting hands as stabs were bandaged, and slashes were healed. Assorted herbs were used to kill the pain, and those were passed around with stringent observation on the part of the healers. Not everyone who had come to fight was a professional warrior, and they wanted to ensure that supplies weren’t being funneled directly into the hands of criminals.

Noth waited alongside his fellow warriors, gazing off into the distance with a blank expression that was thankfully covered by his thick coat of feathers. His mind was awash with thoughts of the conflict, the occasional vision of battle stripping away any chance of coherence from his consciousness. If he had been only a fraction too slow with one of his archery shots, then he would likely be dead. If he hadn’t won his intense struggle against the zealot whom had assailed him, then he would undoubtedly had been simply another casualty among the many. He would simply become another corpse to litter the battlefield; more food for the vegetation.

He gradually snapped out of his trance, glancing alongside him and noticing the relative dirtiness of his allies. They had been through similar circumstances in the past few moments, and he wondered how many of them were thinking the exact thoughts that had only recently crossed his mind. For the most part, the many people aboard the boats ignored him, though he could palpably feel the presence of a specific pair of eyes laying upon him. His crimson pupils met their own gray ones as he stared into the Avriel. He was the pureblood who had forced him to embark upon this trip, and already Noth had sworn to annihilate him and his friends. The look of anger that now crossed his face seemed to indicate a similar thought in his opponent, and he wondered when the change had occurred from simply demeaning to hatred.

There was a sickening moment when he realized that he would inevitably find out. There wasn’t a chance in all of Idalos that the Avriel wouldn’t shove him aside the instant they were alone, wouldn’t draw forth some manner of dagger and threaten his life. What had he done that might have angered the purebloods any more than simply existing? His mind was far too clouded to reasonably settle upon that question, and he found himself shrugging away the threat of danger, and focusing instead on getting sleeping away some of his tiredness.

Inevitably, the ships arrived at Ne’haer, finding that the city had been remade into ruins. Plumes of smoke arose overhead the entirety of the city, shrouding the sky in it, and very nearly blocking out pieces of it from vision. There were groans aboard the vessel as the valiant fighters saw that their temporary peace had been robbed away from them. Noth heard a moaning voice beside him, swearing and cursing the monstrous beings that had surely caused such a disaster. Evidence that it was the shadow creatures came quickly as they neared the docks, the occasional being leaping across buildings and structures with an animalistic quality to its’ movements. They would quickly be scouted out, and executed by roving bands of soldiers, but that provided little satisfaction to the hybrid.

Trials passed, lodging being provided within the great Judgment Halls, the only places left untouched by the scourge that battered the city outside. Rooms were naturally shared between the many mortals, though it would be an exaggeration to say that they were cramped. Despite the surprising number of residents, it appeared as though they all fit within the grand halls, and that in itself made them excellent meeting places. Through a touch of a good judgment that would make the namesake of the building proud, Noth was separated from his Avriel antagonists, further prolonging the conflict.

Eventually, the meeting halls were filled as the Immortals met together, allowing any and all who were interested to overhear their conversation. Though Noth utterly despised the cruel Immortals for their terrible acts, it was difficult to resist an opportunity at learning more about their true nature. Half of defeating an opponent was knowing what they were capable of, and how they thought. He filed in with the hundreds of others, listening quietly to the grandiose godlings as they spoke to one another, and to the crowd.

The tension in the room was palpable. Mortals spoke out of turn the instant that they had the chance, trampling over one another’s voices in a desperate attempt to catch the gaze of their fellows, or of the Immortals. It was sickening. Noth could only compare it to the way a child repeatedly speaks of their own good deeds in an attempt at receiving some manner of reward from their parent. He kept quiet, not even bothering to chitchat with the men and women who surrounded him on all sides. He would not promote the clamor, nor would he allow it to influence his opinions.

Suddenly, one of the Immortals stepped forward towards the crowd, forcing it to draw back as if though she were the moon, and they the tide. Gentle green energy sparked off of her, spreading out amongst the crowd and healing them all of their many wounds and afflictions. There was a brief moment, a hopeful instance where he hoped for something impossible. There was a moment of trust, a lingering bit which whispered false promises to his ears. When his curious hand roved around his back, however, he found that reality was far crueler than the mystical tales that children and drunkards chose to spread. His wing had not been healed, because it had never been there in the first place. A doctor could not bandage a limb that never existed. For the second time in his life, Noth felt robbed of a natural gift.

There was a dramatic speech attached to the ‘gift’, though for the most part Noth simply internally ridiculed it. There were pieces that were reasonable enough, however, but those were drowned out by his hate. The greatest part of the speech, the part that resonated throughout his twisted consciousness was the ideal of fighting for peace. It seemed hypocritical, but the Avriel twisted it mentally, acknowledging that he would need to annihilate the godlings if ever there was to be peace throughout Idalos. It was the only path that made any sense.

It was with this thought that a sudden realization occurred to the hybrid. He had planned to eliminate the Immortals, and whilst that goal still held true, he recognized now that it would be incredibly difficult, especially if they allied together with one another. The solution presented itself immediately, simplistic in its’ design; he needed to divide the Immortals. It mattered little whether they fought against one another, or whether they simply had no allies to stand by them, but it was necessary that he divide them. That meant that his previous goal of killing the pair that had traveled with them from Etzos was extremely unlikely, if not impossible.

The ulterior goal of murdering the Avriel purebloods was still perfectly on the table, and he predicted that his opportunity would arise during the thick of battle. That very battle was described in detail by the Immortals as they continued consulting the blob that surrounded them. The speech was finally ended with an imperative command; to meet there at the seventh break, from whence they would depart unto the battlefield, and meet their foe in terrible battle.

Exciting.

The hybrid knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would follow them to their war, and that he would willingly play the part of a pawn. Despite what the Immortals said about them fighting for themselves, there was little doubt that they gained some manner of benefit from the battle as well. Such motivations were seemingly common among their ilk, though they were altogether foreign to the majority of mortals either, so that immorality might be excused as the burden of sentient life.

He took the necessary actions of preparing for war, donning new clothes and wiping crusty blood from his mace. He swung several practice blows within his quarters, feeling the weight of the happen, and envisioning his foes falling underfoot as he cleared a path through them.

Imagination had a terrifying tendency to plant itself within the realm of reality. Breaks passed by, and Noth found himself enjoying a meal cooked by some of the Etzori supply train when the horns of warfare sounded from outside the mighty hall. There was chaos as some rushed to fend off their encroaching foe, others moving towards the designated area for their journey into the icy land of Oscillus. The hybrid joined the latter, watching as one of his pureblood antagonists rushed outside to battle Faldrun and his zealots. His voice was nearly unrecognizable among the clamor of battle, but his scream had a birdlike squeal to it, and that made hearing it all the more pleasurable to the hybrid.

Without any further ceremony, he was led through with a group of warriors, stepping through the strange and mystical world of Emea, and emerging on the otherwise into a frosty wasteland.

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Tue Nov 29, 2016 5:07 am

Put the date here

Vincent's eyes were pulled away from Faith and Tristan and back to the dais the Immortals stood upon. One of them had moved to the front of it and had begun to speak. Vincent listened and couldn't help think of Sabine when the dark skinned Immortal mentioned those of "wit and intelligence". The Immortal spoke painted words to Vincent, those who could not hold their own in a fight would be liability to those that fought beside them. On the battle field, those who fought had to be able to trust those at their side. How could you do that if you were constantly having to shield them. Pretty words all, but naive in Vincent's eyes.

Soon after her speech the Immortal whispered something from the dais, and though Vincent could hear it clearly, it reminded him of the odd language Ethelynda often spoke. Soon after her utterance, a glowing green light grew from her, and power filled the room. As it did, it seemed to fill Vincent at the same time. Washing away the bit of fatigue and small aches that had built up on his journey to the meeting. He couldn't help but grin a little at the feeling. Then the Immortal began to move through the crowd. Stopping at random people as she moved, again offering words of encouragement.

After the show of power, the Immortal that seemed to shine, the one who and barred the door at the start of the meeting began to speak again. She informed them of why they had been gathered, and what the Immortals needed of them. Upon finally hearing what the Immortals had planned for those gathered in the room, Vincent was immediately glad for what he had done to keep Sabine from joining him. Better she lives and hate him until Rynmere rose again, than to have joined him and died in the ice and snow of Oscillus.

As the meeting was ended and those gathered dispersed, Vincent decided the best thing to do before they left for Oscillus would be to grab some sleep. Even as full of energy and vitality as he was from the Immortal, Moseke, he had heard whispered about the room. For one thing he had learned as a Knight in the Iron Hand, to get your rest when you could, cause the Seven only knew when you would get any again. With that thought in mind, Vincent found a quite portion of wall that made up the outside of the Hall, and soon dosed off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vincent's eyes snapped open. Something had woken him, at first he was in a slight daze from his slumber, but that was soon washed away as another horn sounded. That had been what had spurred him awake, the sounds of warhorns. Vincent stood and looked in the direction the horns had sounded. The sky glowed with the light of what Vincent could only guess were flames. Picking up his sword and shield from where he had set them before his nap, Vincent began heading towards the commotion. Having secured his sword and shield back were they belonged, Vincent reached out and grabbed a frantic man that was running by.

"What's going on? What are those horns?" Vincent asked.

The man stopped only long enough for Vincent to see the terror in his eyes, and answer "It's the Aukari, they're here!" With that the man jerked free of Vincent's grip and bolted into the crowd.

At the name of the race Vincent's mouth fell into a hard frown. Without word he replaced his helm and readied himself for what was to come. It only took bits before the city defenders came rushing into the square at the base of the steps. Not many of them left Vincent noted, as they made their ways to the stairs. As they moved to step around him, Vincent moved into his path. "We have to hold these stairs." Vincent said, his voice unwavering and containing the authority he normally used when he was in the Iron Hand.

"Move aside, the city is lost we retreat to the Hall." The man in front of him said, putting a hand on Vincent's shoulder to move him.

Vincent grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it until it was pinned to his back. "The Immortal's are in the Hall; they need time to get everyone in the Hall out. If we don't hold the stairs, the Aukari will over run the Hall, and everything will have been for nothing. Ne'Haer's sacrifice will have been in vain. We hold the stairs."

The man struggled for a minute, and his men behind him all had hands on swords and were exchanging uncertain looks. Eventually though, the man relented, and answered. "We hold the stair." he agreed and only when he had, did Vincent release him. As the man went about ordering his men into position, Vincent drew his sword and shield, and took up a position at the base of the stairs with the rest of the men.

Bits passed, and at first Vincent thought maybe those at the wall had been able to rout the Aukari horde, but that hope died as a group of enemies came pouring into the square. With gritted teeth, and grim expression Vincent ready himself for the first assault. As the enemies charged into the shield wall the men had created at the base of the stairs they tried to pull the men of balance, to get passed their shields, and at first they were rebuffed. The defenders wounded those who came to close, and cut down those not fast enough to move away, bursting into flames before their shields.

After a time though, some of the men fell to the sheer number of enemies that assailed them. Eventually, holding the base of the stairs became impossible and Vincent sounded the retreat. "Fall back to the stairs, we'll hold them there as long as we can." With that the defenders slowly backed up the stairs holding a defense line as the went and covering each other’s retreat as they went. On the stairs there was only enough room for a handful of men to stand abreast. The city defenders took up another defensive position on the stairs giving Vincent a moment to catch his breath and look around.

What he saw he couldn't believe, the hall was on its way to looking like the rest of the city. Portions of its walls were blow out and crumbling, and fires raged within. Then he finally heard it, the sound of thunder coming from with the Hall. What could possibly have done this? Vincent thought, but before he could ponder any further, those holding the stairs called out to him. Looking back, he saw the defenders were having a hard time holding the line, and would likely fail soon.

Thinking quickly, Vincent called out to the men. "On three, push and then retreat!" As she spoke Vincent returned his shield to his back, and ready himself behind the line of shields. "One!" Vincent flexed his grip on his sword as the words filled the air, "Two!" his muscles tensed as he coiled, prepared to strike. "Three!" As the word left his lips the defender pushed as one and opened a gap between themselves and the attackers on the stairs. As the shield wall began to disperse, Vincent's body uncoiled and his sword leaped from behind a shield and into the waiting abdomen of one of the Aukari. The shock on the Aukari's face was twisted soon after in pain, as his wound began to smolder. Continuing with the momentum of the lunge Vincent brought his boot up and kicked the Aukari off his blade and into his awaiting allies, hopefully causing some damage on the way down.

With that Vincent turned and bolted for the top of the stair, and into the Hall. When he arrived what he saw was beyond anything he could have conceived. Two Immortal looked in furious combat, fire and lightning thrown like spears and knives, thunder and heat distorting the air, and a giant portal on the far side of it all. With a silent curse Vincent ran full speed into the chaos. A fire ball sailed over head, lightning struck off to his left, a pillar collapsed just in front of him forcing him to dive and come up in a roll not to be crushed. Though despite it all he came up just in front of the portal. Turning to look the two Immortals were still looked in combat, but as far as Vincent could see the woman, one of the Immortals who had been on the dais at the meeting, and him were the only ones left in the Hall. Looking back into the portal he saw a blonde hair woman standing there beckoning him to continue in. Looking back and forth, Vincent made a silent prayer to his patron. Ethelynda protect me. With that he reached out and grabbed the Immortal woman's hand and yanked her through the portal with him. "CLOSE IT!" Vincent shouted as the fell through the portal and into the darkness.

Spoiler

Was given permission to drag Ilaren along. I believe I'm the last one to post but if not, I'm sorry. Vincent is the last out, just post like this happens after.

Tue Nov 29, 2016 10:18 pm

The Great Meeting

After another few had had their say, the immortals stirred. Some chose to come down amid the rabble, others elected to speak words of hope and courage but remain standing above the assembled. A shiver passed down his spine as Rafael let the whole ordeal sink in. He had never prayed to an immortal, never asked one for help, in fact, he struggled to remember all their names, although he certainly had learned them once.

A green, vaporous light slithered through the hall at Moseke’s strange words. Rafael was among those who backed away as he couldn’t be sure what the immortal was trying to do. It didn’t matter. The baleful glow caught up with him anyway, and though he initially tried to wave it away, its purpose soon became clear to him. Many of shallow cuts and bruises he had suffered over the last few sleepless trials, vanished. At least, it felt that way. Wide-eyed he hooked his index finger under the many layers of cloth and pulled up.

Smooth skin had replaced the nasty gash to his side. He traced his finger over it for a moment, to make sure the healing wasn’t some sort of ruse. It wasn’t.

--

Rafael awoke to the sound of horns. He jumped up from his improvised bedroll and reached for his longsword. Still sleep-drunk, he stumbled towards the source of the noise and gazed onto the horizon. A hellish glow shone from the Willow Woods, but it was no ordinary fire. He overheard a frantic man say that the Aukari had come. Rafael grimaced. It certainly explained the break in the shadow attack, and he much preferred cutting through misshapen monsters than the hot-blooded beserkers that were now at the gates.

The handful of soldiers and guards amid the crowd contemplated retreating into the hall, but just when they were about to, a tall man emerged and commanded the remaining forces to hold the stairs. Strange, Rafael saw no insignia of the city sewed onto the man’s clothes, yet his order was obeyed, and the defenses started to form up.

While many rushed towards the great hall, Rafael remained pinned to the spot. He sensed his heart throbbing under the skin near his throat. Waves of both heat and cold passed through him as he mulled over his options. He could flee. No one would blame him if he tried, but at the same time he knew he couldn’t avoid combat altogether.

With a sigh, he strode forward, picked up a stray shield from the ground, and joined the ranks of the defense in complete silence. So tense was the group of valiant defenders that only an elderly man to his left seemed to notice him. “Steel yourself,” was all the gruff man offered in terms of encouragement, after he’d wiped a look of surprise from his face. And so they waited. They, our rows thick of armed men, old folk, and a boy, against the ravaging horde that trampled all in its path.

Within moments of emerging over a pile of rubble in the streets, the Aukari horde crashed down upon the thin line of defense like water on a cliff. Under the stern command of the tall man, they repelled the enemy numerous times, but for five Aukari they struck down, another man was lost in the thinning defense. First there had been three rows between him and the enemy, then two, and now-

He wasn’t used to the weight of a shield on his arm, and so his defense was slow and clumsy as a broad Aukari attacked him with the vigor of a wild boar. Rafael stumbled, but managed to push his assailant back before a quick stab saw his blade sizzle with Aukari blood. In just a trill, all Moseke’s healing prowess was being undone. The hot Aukari blood sprayed over him and bit into his armor like acid. He sensed cold steel cutting into his side. With a wild roar he spun around and retaliated against a stout Aukari with many swift cuts. But before he could finish the beserker off, a blood curling scream to his left warned him that the elderly man at his side had been cut down. The last line had been broken and all around him, the defense crumbled and retreated.

Without a moment’s hesitation Rafael dropped his shield and resorted to hacking his way out of the mass of bodies. To his own surprise, he soon re-emerged behind enemy lines. Busy as they were to slay the last defenders on the stairs, none of the Aukari seemed to notice him. Relieved, he ducked into the remains of an alleyway and bolted away. Perhaps there would still be some defenders left on the walls, where Captain Ziri had said he would be.

Fri Dec 02, 2016 12:17 pm

Jachiel flinched as a green mist flowed over him and through his clothing, then stared with astonishment as a cut on his hand closed over and vanished. The ache of bruises and strained muscles left from the fight by the boats also vanished. He glanced down at his arm, but it remained unchanged. Still, if this immortal was healing to ready them for battle, at least she recognised that he could fight one-handed and that in turn boosted his confidence in his ability to get through this. The options offered were laughable though. Stay and fight and die in this wreck of a city, with no way to get home, or go through this portal and fight and freeze and maybe die - or maybe live - but still without an option to go home. Gawyne's enduring balls, what he really wanted was his farm, and more than six feet of it at that, but given those choices...he didnt think it much of a choice. He wanted a chance to live, of course.

He went out into the city once the doors opened and offered his service where it was needed. Most looked askance at his arm and politely declined his offers to fight, or lift, so he ended up carrying supplies. He was up on the wall delivering water and ammunition to the defenders when fire began to run towards them. Horns thundered around him, and for a moment he was thrown back to the battle where he lost his arm. Then the command to run took over and he raced along the wall to finish the last of the delivery - because he was not so much of a farking fool as to leave soldiers without the ammunition that they needed, even if they weren't the fellow soldiers that he'd served with. Then he was running faster, scrambling over rubble and ruin to the Judgement Halls. He was almost there when the roof went. Fire and lightning flared and stabbed and a man just in front died in a fireball. Jachiel hissed through his teeth and flung himself across the room and into the portal, without so much as a backward glance.

Plot Notes · Mon Dec 19, 2016 6:42 pm

Reviews For All:
Please note, by far and away the majority of this review was done by Jade. I am not reviewing Faith as she is my PC ~ Zenith will post that review here.

Name: Symbri

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Name: Lei'lira

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Name: Ti'niva

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Name: Doran

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Name: Tei'serin

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Name: Padraig

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Name: Yanahalqah

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Name: Quio

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Name: Rafael

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Name: Tristan

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Name: Jachiel

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Name: Aeon

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Name: Rita

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Name: Vluharqih

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Name: Vincent

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Name: Nightshade Eld:

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Name: Noth

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Please do PM me if there are any questions or concerns! Awesome stuff, every one!

Wed Dec 21, 2016 8:49 pm

Name:

Knowledge:
Immortals: Witness To Their Existence
Immortal: U'frek
Immortal: Xiur
Immortal: Moseke
Immortal: Yvithia
Immortal: Qylios
Immortal: Ilaren
Immortal: Ymiden
Immortal: Ethelynda
Location: Ne'haer
Ne'haer: City of Religious Tolerance
Ne'haer: In Ruins Due To Mist Men Attack
Ne'haer: Council of Minäih Judgement Hall
Ne'haer: Destruction of The Judgement Hall
Portal: To Oscillus
Portal: Lights above it like stars
Immortal: Jesine
Immortal: Faldrun
Moseke: Touched your cheek
The sight of two Immortals locked in battle is one not many mortals see
Leadership: Direction In The Voice

Loot: N/A
Injuries:
All minor injuries healed
Your scars begin to fade over time
Fame:
+10 Event Participation,
+1 For Helping The Wounded,
+5 for speaking directly to an Immortal
Devotion:
+2 Prayer to Famula,
+3 Praying For The Dead In Famula's Name.

Story: 10/10
Collaboration: 5/5
Structure: 5/5

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Comments: Faith is always an interesting read. This was no less so. She's starting to branch out from her comfort zone and it is interesting to watch/read. You writing is always a pleasure also, though there are a few places that the wording feels a bit forced or awkward. Like here; "The injured Ithecal from the boat did a much longer speech which fundamentally said what she had said," No real need for that last said. Nothing major, just something that kinda throws off the pacing of the writing.

Otherwise, as always great read.

If you feel I've missed anything or if you have questions about your review, please don't hesitate to send me a quick PM. Thanks!

Sun Apr 16, 2017 12:55 am

Name: Nauta F'mos Geey

Knowledge:
Immortals: Witness To Their Existence
Immortal: U'frek
Immortal: Xiur
Immortal: Moseke
Immortal: Yvithia
Immortal: Qylios
Immortal: Ilaren
Immortal: Ymiden
Immortal: Ethelynda
Location: Ne'haer
Ne'haer: City of Religious Tolerance
Ne'haer: In Ruins Due To Mist Men Attack
Ne'haer: Council of Minäih Judgement Hall
Ne'haer: Destruction of The Judgement Hall
Moseke: Revitalised and healed all present
Portal: To Oscillus
Portal: Lights above it like stars
Immortal: Jesine
Immortal: Faldrun
The sight of two Immortals locked in battle is one not many mortals see
Rhetoric: Speak loudly to retain the attention of those around you
Rhetoric: How to ask rhetorical questions
Persuasion: Use rhetorical questions to persuade others of your views
Immortals: Deceitful?
Philosophy: Everyone has their own agenda – especially Immortals
Philosophy: Survive

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Fame: +10 for event participation
Devotion: N/A

Story: 10/10
Collaboration: 5/5
Structure: 5/5

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Comments: Oh, I quite enjoyed Nauta's perspective in this thread! He is very wary of the Immortals and extremely concerned with his own survival. It felt like a very truthful portrayal of your character. I especially liked how he continued to question the actions of the "good" Immortals and found reason to justify Faldrun's actions - despite fearing his destructive powers. Nicely done!

If you feel I've missed anything or if you have questions about your review, please don't hesitate to send me a quick PM. Thanks!

• Event • [Global Event] The Great Meeting

19th of Vhalar 716

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