conversations: human
conversations:  You stand in the center of the capital of the known world, Arialis. Splendid spires and towers rise into the sky above you, the streets are bustling with activity as people hawk their wares on every corner, everything is for sale in this city as long as you have a license to sell it. Shady looking crones sell vials containing vile smelling liquids and proud smiths display their wondrous armors and weapons.
  
  You are gathered in the very center of the town, surrounded by a wide variety of people, the only similarity between any of them being the dangerous and experienced vibe that they exude. In the center of this crowd is a stage upon which stand three beings. They each stand equally apart, all looking at the others somewhat uncomfortably, as if the very sight of the others is discomforting.
  
  Staring uneasily at each other are Azariel the Lightbringer and the Master of Bones. Azariel is a statuesque man who has features that are hard and make him look like he is chiseled from stone. He is dressed in gleaming plate armor overlaid with a white cloak emblazoned with the sun of Pelor. He has long flowing golden hair and seems to glow with an inner light.
  
  His opposite, the Master of Bones, on the other hand emits no real menace. If it wasn't for the fact he carried a staff with a jawbone hanging from the end, he would appear to be a harmless old man. He is dressed in nice clothing and is groomed well. He doesn't meet the usual stereotypes of evil necromancers, but you know better. He rules an entire city of undead, converted to undeath by a necrotic plague he created.
  
  The last being doesn't seem to bear much animosity for the others. Korrigar, the Guardian of the Jade Forest stands there. A great hulking bear of a man, his is covered in wild brown hair, the exact opposite of the well kept appearance of the Master of Bones. He is dressed in the skins of monstrous beasts, all unnatural and evil creatures. He appears to be rather uncomfortable on the stage.
  
  Azariel steps forward after it seems that everyone who is interested in the meeting hs arrived.  Brothers and sisters, we have called you here today to address an issue which affects us all. We are setting aside our differences to fight a greater foe. If you are interested in participating in this venture, as your presences seem to indicate, we will expect you to do the same. With that out of the way, we are here to deal with the problem of the Titans. I will lay out our proposal. Myself, the Master of Bones and the Guardian have gotten a lead on where we may find out the source of the Titans, which will hopefully allow us to prevent them from continuing to enter our world. However this will take us to the very hearts of the elemental planes, where we must seek out the First Elementals. We ask that you hold the line during our absence, we have tasks for each of you arranged, which we hope will allow us to gain a better understanding of the Titans. We also hope to hold back the tide whilst we find a way to stop them. Does anyone have any questions before we provide you your assignments? 
conversations: Torgarn:
conversations: human
conversations:  Kali looks around at the mass of people surrounding him. It made him uncomfortable being surrounded by so many people, especially when most of those were wearing metal armors. While it was unavoidable to be forced to wear some metal for their enchanted properties, he found it distasteful to be wearing so much.  What really made him grind his teeth, however, were the obvious practitioners of the abhorrent art of necromancy, such as the man on stage with the staff. Worst of all, however, was the abomination standing in their midst's. How a wight was even allowed into the city to begin with was beyond him, and if it weren't for the critical nature of their venture, he would strike it down where it stood.
  Jolting back to reality, The Warden replied to the armored man on stag:  "I have none at the moment." .
conversations: Hbgplayer:
conversations: human
conversations:  It was unimaginably uncomfortable within the crowd of heroes, those milked over bright blue eyes looked over the group of people numerous times upon entering the city. Even under suggestion of setting aside differences, it could not help but feel dozens of eyes fall upon its undead visage with a sense of hatred or righteousness. It knew that well that the moment this crisis was over, for better or worse, it had made a great deal more enemies with just its presence here.
  
  Still, while the numbers were exceedingly small, there were a handful within the crowd that harbored no ill will for the wight. A few people that cared little about the presence of undead in the world, a few more that practiced the dark arts. Indeed, there were even a few liches that came out of their guarded fortresses to address the matter, the normally solitary mages seeing the danger for what it was and lending aid.
  
  Those lifeless eyes tried to ignore the boring gaze of the one called The Warden. Even before nearing its presence, The Nameless One could tell that his new goal in life was to end its existence. Again, were it not for the uneasy truce the three on the stage called for, A war would have set out between these two alone.
  
  It listened to the dilemma with a marked amount of interest. In truth, it's reasons for being here were primarily for a selfish reason. Of course it's main reason was to help prevent the destruction of the known world, but another strong focus was an attempt to gain favor in the eyes of his Love Undying. Indeed, this quest to save the world was turned in to The Nameless One's personal crusade.
  
   "This one would like to know the information discovered thus far concerning these titans, and if we should expect the appearance of one during your absence."  Offering its own question when asked. Drawing attention to its small humanoid appearance. It wore no armor, and took great effort to make sure that it was well dressed - much like the Master of Bones, it cared a great deal about appearance. Though, underneath finely pressed clothing was a myriad of scars and stitches that mapped over that aged body. There was no hair anymore on the top of its head, it all having withered and died long after its body was suppose to do the same. If anything, the wight had more an appearance akin to that of a vampire, than of a normal wight. There were few spots upon the face, and many more hidden by its clothing that were devoid of flesh, showing muscle tissue and even bone underneath, but for the most part, it's body was well preserved, depicting the beauty The Nameless One had in life as well. "Is there any weakness or tactic we can exploit for the time being?"  
conversations: Ixahinon:
conversations: human
conversations:  Standing over a foot taller than anyone else present, Kirnan stands in the front of the crowd, as is only fitting, with his fists on his hips and his feet spread wide.  His shirt strains to contain the epic girth of his pecs, and slight rips where the sleeves end on his biceps show where that battle has been lost.  On his back is a massive sword that a normal man would struggle to lift, and a gleaming shield made of a ruddy gold metal, emblazoned with fantastic beasts circling the sun.  On the part of his sword's blade visible on his back, at least two feet of polished razor-gold, scripture can be seen, etched with exacting detail.  An entire holy book of Pelor is written on the surface of the massive weapon.  But his panoply does not end there.  A wide belt made of Tarrasque-leather circles his waist, and gloves of quicksilver-dragon hide adorn his hands.  A helm forged from mirror-bright silver hangs from his belt, a red silk cloak hangs from his shoulders, and large rings gleam on his fingers.  He's dressed in a blue shirt, with darker pants and dark red boots with small golden wings on the heels.  His face is youthful, as if he's not old enough to grow a full beard, and carries no trace of concern for what the figures on stage have told him.    "Do not take offence is I slay them all before you get back.  Titans, what sport!"    He seems completely serious.
conversations: Rhyvurg:
conversations: human
conversations:  Rhadamanthus 
  
  While the crowd gathered at the city center, a lone figure wrapped in black cloak sat atop one of the high buildings surrounding the square, observing the events below. From that distance he could see everything, hear everything clearly. He would go and join the others, but why bother when he could sit there comfortably, just as he preferred. The crowd exactly wasn't your ordinary crowd. No, not when it involved quite a number of names you could throw around and any ordinary person's face would light up in recognition. These were no ordinary people. Some even more less ordinary than the others. And that's not even the worst part about it, no. It was that they came from all sides of the spectrum. The good guy fanatics to the crazy lunatics. Yeah, he did not want to find himself caught in the middle of all that. Not when this uneasy "alliance" could erupt into all out war any time.
  
  He could already see it, much more feel it. From the tension to the stares, everything was palpable. Golden orbs pierced through a curtain of silver hair, surveying, noticing every small detail, every little movement. He could only wish everything was done and over with here.
  
   "Antisocial as always,"  a voice came from behind him.
  
   "No. Just cautious,"  the man replied without looking back.  "You know how much I love a good party. This is clearly not one,"  he smiled.
  
   "And why the hell are you out? I didn't call for you,"  he added, this time turning slowly to face the speaker.
  
  The voice came from a small automaton, slowly walking towards him, its metal foot making a clunking noise as it stepped on the tiled roof. Its eyes glowed a bright yellow, seemingly glowing a bit brighter as it spoke. Its whole body gleamed in the warm Arialis sun, half of it covered by a ragged cloak tied haphazardly around its neck. Reaching the man's side it sat down with a loud thud and looked down on the city center.
  
   "Ha! I always come out when I want to." 
   "No. No you don't. You just come out when you're least needed." 
   "Shut up,"  it replied, still looking down.
  
   "So, what do you think about these Titans?" 
  
  The man shrugged.  "Your guess is as good as mine. But whatever they are, they need to be taken out. Quickly. Not only do they pose a great threat to this world, they are causing serious problemsto my love life. I'm what, turning thirty-something this year, and I'm still single. I thought this time was it for sure. Met a nice gal, and then these damn critters show up. Dammit, we were this close to...ugh!" 
  
  He was stopped mid-sentence by a kick to the side.
  
   "Pervert!"  the automaton's feminine voice echoed as it disappeared through a dimensional tear.
  
  Left alone, the man nursed his rib, shaking his head and grinning.
  
   "Heh heh, that always gets her. Now then, go on, old dudes. Finish up down there already. I've got a date to get back to." 
  
  He put his hands on the back of his head, leaned back and lied down on the roof, and closed his eyes.
conversations: GuyFawkes: