Magic & Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay
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		<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Non-Adult Sandbox =&gt; Non-Adult Roleplays =&gt; Topic started by: Modesty on November 24, 2012, 03:11:39 pm</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Modesty</strong> on <strong>November 24, 2012, 03:11:39 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<span style="font-family: Gill Sans;" class="bbc_font"></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br><strong>Greeting:</strong> Hello! While awaiting my application outcome I’ve decided to start a thread roleplay to pass the time. Any may join, just jump right in. Please separate OOC speech from IC speech to keep everything neat and concise. It’s an open ended world, so feel free to build. Remember! This is just for fun, so detailed information set out before hand is not necessary. Thanks for your interest!<br><br><strong>Premise:</strong> This is a medieval fantasy roleplay following the campaign of varied sellswords. Each traveller has been hired by a mysterious benefactor: a man who remains unseen and has only contact through letters delivered by riders and varied confidants.&nbsp; The party members have congregated at the first camp, as directed, and are only now meeting.<br><br>This will be set in a D&amp;D and Forgotten Realms type world. Your character may be, but not limited to: a paladin, a mage, a monk, a bard, a warrior, a sorcerer, a witch doctor, a cleric, a priest, a ranger, a rogue, a druid. </div><br><hr><hr><br><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>Nevae</strong></span><br>❄&nbsp; ❄&nbsp; ❄</div><br><div style="text-align: justify;">Night ebbed, and slumber along with it. Dawn crept in, slowly taking it’s place, bringing forth a natural clock that was imbedded in diurnal creatures. As if on que, moments before first light, thick eyelashes fluttered opened. Sigh like gasp, barely audible, parted petal hued lips as if breathing life into a forever-restful body. Slender figure rose, arms reaching above head and smile befitting lips much like a cat stretching after a comfortable nap. Slow, careful movements worked skilled fingers through lengthy locks, detangling any knots that might have accrued from the night past. Quietly, cloak of cerulean and winter was befitted around lithe shoulders. In like fashion, adornments of silver and precious gem were replaced along fingers, wrists, forehead and throat. Properly attired, if such revealing garments could be so called, hands parted the hide tent and Nevae emerged.<br><br>It was then that the early morning light fell on her, she who was still smiling. From icy eyes, to light attire, to pale hair; her figure was extremely out of place amidst the dismal camp of soot, soldier and soil. Porcelain skin, white and completely unmarred, was equally juxtaposed amidst scarred and battle hardened warriors. To further her discordance with her surroundings, deceptively youthful features aged her naught more than seventeen years—barely an adult in many regions of the realm. However strange her appearance within the encampment, Nevae had yet to be questioned. The mysterious benefactor had seen fit to hire her services, and she was always pleasant, well-mannered and friendly. <br><br>That moment was no exception. A nameless soldier walked passed Neave towards her tent. Blue eyes slid over the woman’s face, marking the stress that was clearly defined in strikingly feminine features. The cleric dipped her head in quiet greeting. Her voice was soft, near whisper while mindful of others that might not have woken, <strong>“Morning.”</strong><br><br>Despite greeting, the shining woman did not linger for idle conversation. Instead, she sought the small gathering that had already congregated in the early hours around the fire. Vision of frost swept across the scene, quickly taking note. Some stayed back in the forest edge, practicing discipline in the routine of her early morning meditation- such dedication that Nevae found unbefitting to her own personal desires. A handful of others were closer to the fire. In time, it seemed, to watch another leave.&nbsp; A man rose, nameless again, sliding past her and towards his tent. As he walked past her, she nodded and murmured her hellos, but continued on her way. <br><br>When she had entered the circle of fellow mercenaries, it was then her voice rose to more audible levels, having clearly distinguished that the majority of the company had already rose.&nbsp; Smile, ever-present, remained fixed the true on bow shaped lips. <strong>”Fair morning.”</strong><br><br>Her hand raised, an offering to the group. Within delicate fingers was grasped a few packets containing honey and spices to add to morning oats. The result ignited senses to a famished state and then quell them, leaving companions well sated. <strong>“Did someone say breakfast? I’m famished.”</strong><br><br>It was an invitation for any to join her.</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucas0016</strong> on <strong>December 19, 2012, 10:40:32 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				One man did rise and approach her. He was of average height and build but his full mail armor was immaculate and gleamed in the early morning light, strapped across his back was a shining shield that looked as if its heraldry had been burned away,&nbsp; jutting out from above the shield was the hilt of a sword. His full helm was likely the most striking part of him before he removed it, it was shaped to look like a dragon in its final death throes. When the helmet was removed he revealed a face that may have once been handsome but was now marred by a grotesque scar. It looked as if at one point the entire left side of his face had been smashed in, clearly he had been healed as best anyone could do but he still lost his eye and had a vicious scar. His other remaining eye was.a bright piercing blue, his hair a very short cut dark brown, he couldn't have been older than twenty-five winters. "Mind if I join you?&nbsp; I&nbsp; could use a bite to eat, name's Moreth<br>" Rumor around the camp had it that Moreth used tk be a knight in charge of a large army but his homeland was sacked by&nbsp; a massive tribe of ogre.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PurplAstralMagma</strong> on <strong>December 23, 2012, 07:54:15 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<span style="font-family: arial;" class="bbc_font"> <span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;False dawn came, and D'Varra rolled out of his sleeping fur. He quickly put on his tunic and thigh-high black leather <span class="bbc_u">leggings of Striding and Springing</span>. Though only two feet tall, there was something about him that seemed 'adult', 'intense', and 'dangerous'. He folded up his fur, and stashed it in his <span class="bbc_u">bag of holding</span>. Finding a clear area before all those tent-dwellers around him could start getting up and roaming around, he went into his kata-s, starting with shadow-fighting and&nbsp; ending with jumps, somersaults, and acrobatics, staying as silent as possible. He finished as the Sun began to rise, and he silently watched, devoutly. <br>As it finally cleared the mountaintops Eastward, he silently renewed his oath to Yondalla - - - <br><strong>'I shall never sip from those that have life and intelligence, even though they be my enemy. <br>I shall seek out all night-walking Vampires, and destroy them completely. <br>I shall find the group I best belong-with, and help them to be the best adventuring-family that they could ever be.'</strong><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Then he pulled a small silver flagon out of his bag of holding, swiftly drank the steer's blood, and put the empty vessel away. He jumped up onto a rock, practising 'Hide in Plain Sight' through ultimate stillness as the others woke and made their breakfast. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;As Nevae and Moreth began to interact, D'Varra jumps down off the rock and walks over to them.</span> <span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><br>(D'Varra is a day-walking Vampire Monk, Halfling Child (12 yo) when 'taken', sworn to Yondalla and permitted non-Negative Material unlife daywalking)</span></span>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Whispered Desire</strong> on <strong>December 24, 2012, 09:01:05 am</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The raven haired olive eyed woman (http://i626.photobucket.com/albums/tt344/mysteriarp/Ravendruid.jpg) had arrived the night before, having chosen her tent and made herself scarce until the others would arrive and she would join them.&nbsp; The druidesses journey had been long although pleasurable, giving her a chance to reconnect with nature as she had spent the last several months in the town of Asgara visiting relatives.&nbsp; However, when the letter had mysteriously arrived she had been filled with a curiosity that would only be sated by joining this...whatever this was.&nbsp; <br><br>The dark haired woman stretched before climbing out of her cot and smoothing the long form fitting green dress down upon her curves, making sure to press the wrinkles out as her hands ran lightly over her lithe frame.&nbsp; She shook her long flowing hair over her shoulders, using her fingers to comb through the silk soft strands and relieve herself of any knots or tangles that may have formed in her sleep.&nbsp; Hearing voices outside she slipped on her white fur trimmed boots, a stark contrast to her dark skin.&nbsp; Placing her silver leaf amulet around her neck, a gift from her mother that showed her connection to nature, the woman secured a cloak of white around her shoulders and exited her tent. From overhead the woman Ciara, or as her friends called her, Raven, could her her companion and twin raven, Reye's calling to her and using her connection to the raven who had magically appeared the night of her birth and had never left her side, she used her telepathy to calm him. <em>Quiet now Reyes, time will reveal to us that which we need to know soon enough.</em><br><br>She moved to where a few others were gathered, the smell of breakfast wafting her direction as she joined them, nodding as she seated herself "From my tent I heard the mention of breakfast and would be grateful for some."&nbsp; She offered quietly, her full lips curving into a smile and revealing a rather lovely smile.&nbsp; Then her tone turned slightly more serious, dark eyes gazing at those gathered.&nbsp; "The letter I received was vague, does anyone know exactly why we have been called unto this place?"<br><br>&nbsp;<br><br><br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucas0016</strong> on <strong>December 24, 2012, 11:01:30 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I wish I knew the answer to that myself, figured I might as well see what this is all about." He reach ed near the fire and with a metal clad hand pulled away a small travel pot of boiling water. He reached into a pouch and pulled out a mixture of herbs and placed it into a few tin cups he produced from another bag and poured the hot water on the herbs. "Care for some tea? One of the few luxuries I allow myself when traveling like this. The name's Moreth." He offered Ciara the same silvery hand he had reached into the fire with as well as one of the cups of tea.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Whispered Desire</strong> on <strong>December 29, 2012, 08:47:10 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ciara accepted the mans silver hand with a smile "Tea would be wonderful right now, thank you, Moreth.&nbsp; My name is Ciara." <br><br>The raven haired beauty stood, warming her hands by the fire observing the others whom had gathered there, waiting to see if any of them would be able to shed some light on their reasons for being there.&nbsp; <br><br>Ciara began to mix some oats in a bowl, accepting a packet of honey from Nevae before seating herself with the tea that Moreth had generously provided her with, eating quietly while waiting on their reasons for them being here to be revealed to them.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lucas0016</strong> on <strong>December 31, 2012, 11:47:09 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"You dress like the forest people. Is that what you do then, commune with nature? I knew a druid once, a giant bear of a man by the name of Hienrich, that man could do some amazing things in the woods."&nbsp; As Moreth spoke to Ciara he glanced around and noticed D'varra for the first time. He gave him a nod of the head as he set his helmet down and took a seat. "Morning there."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RageOfTheTitan</strong> on <strong>February 02, 2013, 11:20:24 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Azerath awoke as the stars were fading. The hulk of a man groaned as he sat up. He liked to sleep under the stars with his massive great sword beside him. He strapped on his breastplate and winter furs, then pulled his long brown hair up into a pony tail. Only then cold you see that he regularly shaved the sides of his head bald to match his clean shaven face. He stood at 6'7" and had strength enough to rival a Minotaur.&nbsp; His battered armor and great sword of Force bore only the scars of old battles, but despite that it was well taken care of. He wore no helmet because it restricted his vision , and this worrior had seen many battles. When he got the invitaion to join this escapade, he figured it would just be another paycheck, and said"Why the hell not?", packed up and left.<br>&nbsp;When he heard the open invitation to breakfast he walked over with a jolly jaunt and smile on his face. "Good morning to ya!" and took a large portion of the oats. Azerath then noticed&nbsp; D'varra, and asked "What's your story little guy?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Mogwin</strong> on <strong>February 06, 2013, 09:50:04 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Panalen was still slumbering in his plain white tent when the smell of breakfast reached him.&nbsp; Taking in the sweet smells with a long and lengthy breath, he smiled and hoisted himself from his sleepy comfort.&nbsp; He could hear the sound of spoons clacking against bowls and idle chatter, and guessed he must have lain through a good part of the morning.&nbsp; Deciding his stomach would not benefit from missing some nice hot breakfast, he quickly put on his garb and headed to the feast, taking his lute with him.<br><br>It seemed that most of the company had risen before Pan, but it didn't bother him.&nbsp; He reveled in his lazy and carefree nature, not letting trivial issues get in the way of his happiness.<br>Passing by open tents and an enormous man exiting his tent, he found the origin of the heavenly aroma.&nbsp; "Good morn everyone."&nbsp; The people here looked to come from every part of the world.&nbsp; Pan delighted in being around such a unique group of individuals, the more important question of why they were all gathered here not weighing on his mind as heavily as some of the others.<br><br>He acquired a bowl of oats and some tea, sat down with the rest, and hungrily devoured the ambrosia whilst listening to the various conversations and banter.&nbsp; The meal didn't last through Pan's appetite for long.<br>His belly sated, he laid back with his lute and played a light melody to accompany the dawn.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElusiveM00se</strong> on <strong>February 06, 2013, 10:27:41 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(( drow (dark elf) thief Hally ))&nbsp; Antyrr<br><br>The dim light that hinted at dawn’s approach was the herald of mid-day for the silent guardian in the shadows. Midnight-black leather cut like a second skin made no noise while the figure crept from one tree to the next. Bright red eyes watched from their hiding place above the mercenary camp, absorbing the conversations of the waking others. It had been deep in the middle of the night when this adventurer arrived, taking up residence among the tree branches, waiting. <br><br>A frown tugged at the full lips hidden under the face mask, made from the same strange leather as the rest of the outfit. There were already too many. Each person that shuffled from a tent to the cookpot was one more liability. And one more to cut in on the treasure. Gloved hands flexed around the dagger hilts at each hip, drumming fingers against the cool metal in a soundless gesture of frustration. <br><br>Antyrr kept still, wanting to continue observing the camp and her soon-to-be companions. Until the music started. One of the men picked up a lute and began to play a cheery tune that grated on her nerves. Each bright note was like a jolt of pain through her pointed ears, straight to her brain. She gripped her dagger hilts until the dark-skinned knuckles inside her gloves turned white and she was unable to bare it any longer. <br><br>Without ceremony, she dropped out of the trees and into the middle of the camp. Other than dark-skinned, pointed ears and her red eyes, the athletically built female was covered from head to toe in pitch-black leather. It seemed to be custom-tailored from an unusual material. Twin daggers hung one from each hip, their sheaths attached to a multi-pouched belt around her waist. The quiver and shortbow strapped to her back did not hinder her movements as she stood up tall to survey the camp. <br><br>Bright red eyes narrowed in warning as she fixed each sellsword with a glare, as if challenging anyone to dare ask who she was. Antyrr’s gaze settled on Panalen, filled with an extra-special dose of hatred as his hands continued to produce noise from his instrument. No words came from inside her mask as she walked to the opposite side of the fire from the musician. Standing with arms folded, she contemplated the destruction of the lute.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElusiveM00se</strong> on <strong>February 06, 2013, 10:28:44 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(( Aaaand that's what I get for pasting EVERYTHING in my google doc... - please ignore the OOCness in my previous post. Oyy, what a way to start. &gt;.&lt; ))
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Mogwin</strong> on <strong>February 06, 2013, 03:01:19 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Panalen continued to strum blithely melodious notes, completely oblivious to the Elf across from him seething with annoyance.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RageOfTheTitan</strong> on <strong>February 06, 2013, 03:12:36 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Oi! Drow! what's you're story? since no one else seems to want to talk at the moment..I figure I can annoy you for a little while.Enjoying the music are ya?" Commented Azerath with an extremely large and lopsided grin, while still sitting and spooning food into his mouth. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElusiveM00se</strong> on <strong>February 06, 2013, 03:34:14 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hidden inside her hood, one of Antyrr’s eyebrows raised. Red eyes turned to stare at Azerath, fixing him with a gaze that held equal parts amusement and disdain. It wasn’t that she found his question funny, it was the fact that the poor fool expected a response. <br><br>Panalen’s continued music made her skin crawl in unpleasant ways, and her glare on Azerath darkened with the displeasure. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RageOfTheTitan</strong> on <strong>February 06, 2013, 04:05:43 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The intensified look, and hate in the drows red eyes made Azerath burst out into a deep hearty laughter befitting such a giant of man. He grinned maniacally and said "Come on, we don't bite...hard." and gave her a mischievous wink, only expecting more silence, but having fun all the same. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Mogwin</strong> on <strong>February 06, 2013, 08:42:51 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A sudden boom of laughter broke Pan's tune.&nbsp; The chortle came from the man he saw leaving his tent.<br><br>"Ah, my fine fellow.&nbsp; What's so humorous?"&nbsp; Pan asked in his cheerful tone.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RageOfTheTitan</strong> on <strong>February 06, 2013, 09:07:55 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Just this lady over here. The silent brooding one. She already hates my guts. I better watch out. She looks the type to stab when I ain't lookin'"<br>commented Azerath. His gaze never left the drow and neither did his grin. If anything, it got bigger. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElusiveM00se</strong> on <strong>February 06, 2013, 10:09:29 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Antyrr considered Azerath's words with more seriousness than they deserved. Still, she shrugged and nodded her head in agreement. Yes - she was definitely the type to "stab when you ain't lookin'." Raising a gloved hand, she rubbed her fingers against her palm - a silent gesture to indicate money.<br><br>Not only would she stab him when he wasn't looking, she would take all his gold, too. <br><br>Her hand returned to where it rested on her opposite arm, the upper limbs still folded over her chest. As menacing as it looked, Antyrr was making a poor attempt at a joke.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RageOfTheTitan</strong> on <strong>February 06, 2013, 10:20:24 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Ahhh and she means to make off with my meager share of the pay! How droll. This should certainty be an interesting journey" He rose to his feet and extended a hand toward the drow. A gesture of truce "Name's Azerath. What's yours?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElusiveM00se</strong> on <strong>February 07, 2013, 06:21:01 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Antyrr stepped backwards, away from the outstretched hand of Azerath. Folded arms remained where they were, and the much shorter woman glared her red eyes at the giant of a man. Tall for her race, the raised points of her ears above the top of her head still barely reached the man's chin. Three of her slim, athletic forms could fit within this man's girth. The drow made a quick calculation and took another step backwards. She was ready to be faster, should any of these strangers turn into a sudden enemy. <br><br>With a gentle sway of her ears, her head shook 'no.' <br><br>A truce was one thing. That she could agree to. It was the touching. If looks could kill, then Azerath's hand would have been burned off six times over, the way she glared at the outstretched limb. To help answer his question, the elf reached into one of the pouches on her belt and withdrew a piece of paper. She dropped it as quick as possible into the man's hand, returning her arm to its folded state. <br><br>The paper would hold the same kind of invitation that the rest of the adventurer's received, except it would be her name at the top. <em>Antyrr</em>.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RageOfTheTitan</strong> on <strong>February 07, 2013, 07:52:02 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Hahahaha! This is quite amusing!" proclaimed Azerath. "Antyrr, huh? I take it you don't like touching. At least my question was answered." He handed er back the piece of paper and crossed his arms over his chest in an imitation of his companion. " You don't stab me, I don't stab you. Hows that sound?" Azeraths lopsided grin never faltered. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ElusiveM00se</strong> on <strong>February 07, 2013, 07:58:36 am</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				With more attitude than was called for, Antyrr grabbed the paper back from Azerath and stuffed it into the pouch it came from. His good humor and constant smile seemed to annoy her just as much as the music did before. Until this moment, the drow did not stop to consider the possibility that this adventure would be the greatest test of her patience yet. <br><br>Her red eyes glanced to his giant greatsword, its blade would cut her in half when it "stabbed" her... The elf let out a soft sigh of resignation, the first and only sound to emerge from the masked female. She nodded once. <br><br>A truce, then.<br><br>With Azerath, anyway.<br><br>For now.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Magic &amp; Mercenaries: A Medieval Fantasy Roleplay</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Mogwin</strong> on <strong>February 07, 2013, 01:43:36 pm</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The show between these two adventurers was amusing Panalen greatly.&nbsp; He wondered if there were any happenings in recent memory that stood up to the comedy of a good-humored warrior attempting to make friends with an angry elf.&nbsp; Wishing he had the experience to change the elf's mood with song, he invited the two to sit and converse with him.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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