conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Maloney: Brysen Mock  
  The river flows over you, dancing coyly. Its current swirls around your body, coming to life as it passes over your skin, playfully gliding across intricate tattoos and scars from years ago, from your life before the cabin in the wilds, the field of forget-me-nots by the river through the mountains. It is a life you have no memory of, nor concept of what may have occurred. Magic swirls freely from your fingers, the unfiltered powers of the realm of dreams, the blue tendrils of the fae. The Spirit of the River flows out from these tendrils, appearing before you. She smiles her regular, serene smile, her smooth features rippling softly, as though pulled by their own currents. Her formless figure vanishes as you surface, refreshed by magic. You clamber onto the banks of the meandering river, and get your bearings.
  
  You don your robes in the wide expanse of bright blue flowers amidst the green grasses, massive green hills like burial mounds surrounding on all sides, seeming to reach up the low-hanging stormclouds above, swirling and preparing for a dance of lightning and rain. You race towards your cabin in the middle of the clearing, reveling in the feel of the wet grass on your bare feet. The cabin is little more than a dilapidated shack, made of half-rotted oak, but it is more than enough for you. It keeps you and your books safe from the elements. However, standing by the door, as ominous as the clouds up above, there is a scarlet robe, hung on broad, powerful shoulders, a figure of at least 7 feet. As you slow your approach, it speaks, its voice harsh and powerful, scolding and demanding.
  
  "Brysen. You were not in your cabin." Before you can interject, it continues. "I do not know what you are trying, boy, but I do not take failures like this lightly. I am your keeper, not your mother." The figure turns, revealing her sharp features you recognize, her grey skin a dreary reflection of the sky above. She's staring into you with crystal blue eyes, cold and heartless, into your soul. She reaches for her belt, producing a metal dagger and throwing it to you. You catch it as she produces another dagger. "Now, Brysen. Let us begin. Strike me, if you can."
  
   A voice in your mind tells you you should check your Journal. 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: atlastrembles: Originally Posted by Maloney 
   "Brysen. You were not in your cabin." Before you can interject, it continues. "I do not know what you are trying, boy, but I do not take failures like this lightly. I am your keeper, not your mother." The figure turns, revealing her sharp features you recognize, her grey skin a dreary reflection of the sky above. She's staring into you with crystal blue eyes, cold and heartless, into your soul. She reaches for her belt, producing a metal dagger and throwing it to you. You catch it as she produces another dagger. "Now, Brysen. Let us begin. Strike me, if you can."
  
   A voice in your mind tells you you should check your Journal.  
   
  
  Brysen picks up the dagger and looks at the weapon, watching the light play along its length. He looks up at the Figure, meeting her eyes, his own blue eyes a different shade, the colour of the River. He could see them in the blade. He looks from the Figure to the blade, to the River and to the Graveyard Mountains behind, his entire world. He can feel the River coursing through him, his hammering heartbeat in his ears.
  
  He hefts the blade, feeling its weight. He throws it - into the ground beside him, looking calmly back at the Figure without saying a word, watching for what it would do.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Maloney: The figure smacks you with the side of its blade. Roll a dex save to evade.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: atlastrembles: Originally Posted by Maloney 
   The figure smacks you with the side of its blade. Roll a dex save to evade. 
   
  
  Brysen is unsurprised when the Figure attacks him, even unarmed. It was ever thus, the Figure's cold rage against Mock's stubborn refusal to engage beyond reacting.
  
    Dex Save  - (1d20+1)[ 19 ] 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Maloney: You dodge dutifully, and the figure maintains its emotionless stare. "I recommend you grab that dagger. I doubt you will dodge my next attack."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: atlastrembles: Brysen grabs the dagger as instructed and waits for her to strike, not betraying a hint of a smile or any emotion. He is trying hard to master himself, to refuse to give the Figure any more than the bare minimum.
  
  OOC - Take dodge action / parry with the dagger.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Maloney: The figure sighs, and brings their dagger down on you. You parry it with ease, and, with rapid speed, she changes direction, smacking your abdomen in the side with the blade, putting you on the ground.
  
  "Strike me."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: atlastrembles: Originally Posted by Maloney 
   The figure sighs, and brings their dagger down on you. You parry it with ease, and, with rapid speed, she changes direction, smacking your abdomen in the side with the blade, putting you on the ground.
  
  "Strike me." 
   
  
  Brysen digs his hand into the earth, feeling its coarse texture and its potential.   Not yet   he thinks to himself and then springs up into a running tackle, aiming at the Figure's midriff, putting all the frustration and loneliness he could muster into the act.
  
    STR check  - (1d20+2)[ 17 ] 