Savage Dragon

A little moodier than I had hoped for but that's what comes from 3 am postings

My eyes aren't as blue as they used to be and I'm not any closer to fulfilling my prophecy The wolves around the wagon are swiftly closing in while I fumble with what's left of my ammunition I hope that my good deeds are remembered after I've died and that I'm buried with the secret that I've never really tried I stopped giving my word cause I felt so guilt ridden only to learn the most important promises are never written So I've closed the door, barred the gate, and hung up the phone cause I no longer need a crowd to feel all alone Another win for the devil in his fight against the light cause he'll have one less warrior to battle after tonight

This seems like a good way to shake things up a bit in the Werewolf World, i'm all for it. The longer phases should help to bring back some of the longer conversations between killings that were more common in the earlier games, i hope. well count me in, once i figure out my own particular brand of madness to add to the story

"...anyone?..." she hadn't really taken the feeling seriously at first. there had been a time where growing up must have been a strange and wonderful journey, but in this world where magazines told you what to wear and television told you what to buy and even the movies told you how to love, the surprise had faded and every girl and boy knew how they were supposed to grow up and what they were to feel. so the emotion hadn't been very surprising and when she stepped out of herself for moment and saw it, she recognized it as typical teen angst that went in conjunction with her hormonal growth. she told herself that it wasn't real and it would just fade with time. but it didn't, instead it grew stronger. though she continued to ignore it, it became oppressive. she felt it in the classroom, she felt it with her friends, and she felt it at home. she felt it most at home. and it wasn't the sinister black force like the world had told her to expect. it was worse. it was the dull gray of indifference. they just didn't care. she felt oppressed by their constant apathy. all around her she saw beauty. there was beauty in the sky and beauty in the trees. the flowers, the birds, even the insects buzzing sang to her every moment of every day. when she stopped and just looked around her, she saw it everywhere as though it flowed from her hands for her to paint the world with. but she was the only one who seemed to see it, their eyes were glazed over and they only stared straight forward as they moved further down the line, muttering. she loved to learn and yet despised school, knowing too well the mockery it made of education. none of them seemed to understand her desire not to be streamlined with the rest of them. she wanted to be different, not act different, not look different... she wanted to be. today's argument was no different from the previous. the trivial center of the argument was new, but the underlying conflict was always the same. her parents wanted a safe and secure future for her. she wanted an exciting one. she had tried explaining and she had tried screaming and she had tried being insulting, but today she just went outside. she walked briskly, clinging to the thin jacket she had grabbed on her way out of the door. her stomach ached. her eyes stung from the cold. her heart beat unsteadily, weary from the burden it was never designed to carry. she only watched her feet as they stumbled along the side of the road. when she came to the corner, she leaned against a fence that stood there and cursed, just once. she looked up, ready to unleash again, but was startled instead. hovering just a few stories in the air was a light and though it was the brightest she could remember ever seeing, she didn't flinch away. she almost fell forward in her desperate need to follow this light, hoping desperately it might hold... some clue, some answer, just something. the light lifted over the center of a small park in the center of the city, full of moving people who viewed the park only as a means to get from one side to the other. at first she thought she might be the only one who saw it, no one else was headed toward the light, but as she stood there she noticed how, just a few, paused and tilted their head to stare quizzically before returning to their previous path. slowly the light faded and as it did, it lowered to the grass of the park below and there stood a boy. he looked about eight. everything about the boy said average. average hair, average weight, average clothes, average height. and blue eyes, very blue eyes. smiling, he looked around, taking in his surroundings and unmindful of the fact that no one paid any more attention to him. and then he spoke and this time they all stopped and turned their heads as his voice reached out to them, clearly and strongly so that they all heard despite his small stature. "I'm here to share." silence. "I'm here to share with you everything," he said. he went on to describe the path away from darkness that the world as a whole had turned to. he shared the answer to the end of poverty, hunger, disease, even the end of unhappiness. he explained how easily the planet could be restored to its original beauty and strength and how mankind could live along side it's wonders. he didn't promise an easy way out, far from it, the changes to be made would be difficult and long but the end result would bring life and color to all nations and their children. he looked so proud of himself when he'd finished, she could hardly breathe in the silence that followed. and then together, as though in a choreographed dance, they all turned and walked on in silence again. as one collective body they gave their answer. it was worse than if they had taken the time to simply say no. the crush on the boy's face was complete. his eyes fell to stare at his feet and he looked ready to cry. his voice cracking, he whispered "doesn't anyone want to share?" "...anyone?..." slowly, she raised her hand

I'm in. Character in progress

Count me in, access to to the internet comes a lot easier now that i have a computer at my job

And now we begin the search for a new mod... anyone man enough out there? (or woman enough, or animal enough, or spirit enough, whatever)

As Thomas walked by the string of lights called Rudydur, how it came to be known by that he had no idea, he noticed that yet again it had switched from its normal colorful array to a steady yellow blinking which bothered his tired eyes. He tried to just ignore it but it did annoy him, especially since he had taken special care to guard this area of the workshop after the commotion involving the set of lights and the postman. Still Thomas was used to prejudice against lumberjacks by now.

Thomas patrolled the corridors of the North Pole, ax over his shoulder, keeping an eye out for mischief and doing his best to stay awake. Since the attack on Octopy, Mr. Claus had asked him to keep an eye out for trouble. Since he knew the big man was so busy and he didn't have much to take care of anyway, pretty much everyone already had their Christmas tree by this time of the year, he happily agreed. Last night he had stayed up the whole night, pacing the halls and ready for action, but nothing had happened. It wasn't particularly surprising maybe, a large burly man carrying a big ax had a way of of deterring evil doers, but it had been very boring and since he'd only managed a quick 2 hour nap today he was still exhausted. Still he was glad he had been able to prevent any more problems for Mr. Claus. His only worry was that with so little sleep he might not be as lucky tonight. (OOC: Vote for Mynx/ Daffyd cause wolves like to vote first)

Thomas, the Christmas tree guy Thomas Pineneedles, late 30's, usually seen with a ruff beard and and red flannel jacket, has been in charge of Christmas tree deliveries for as long as anyone can remember. He oversees the cedar, fir, and pine tree fields littered about the North Pole that are shipped all over the world in celebration of the holiday and help to provide crucial cover for some of Santa's operations. Every year he chooses the large Christmas tree that adorns the main hall of Santa's workshop himself, insisting that he cut it down himself using the large red ax that he claims was hist first Christmas gift from Santa. This year it was a 40 foot Douglas fir, chosen from one of the secret fields that Thomas keeps the location of to himself. When asked by skeptics how his trees grow to be so large or even survive in the cold, arctic climate, Thomas will just mutter something about "Christmas magic" under his breathe

i'm in... clever christmas character to come.... well hopefully clever

i'll definitely play again

I can't remember the last time I was in a game where the villagers were beaten so soundly... oh well, it was a fun chance to RP though. For a while there Tanny, you had the only female character of age... sure made for some interesting writing

Alright so any takers on the next one? who wants to mod?

Ah I knew it, i was having far too much fun for the game to last any longer so i was pretty much expecting it. In fact I prolly would have been upset had it gone any other way. I'm not sure how I could have continued on with Samuel if it had been Millie. So thank you wolves for choosing me. As always Tanny, It's been great playing with you and everyone else, can't wait for the next one

yea i meant to sign back on and make my vote and break the tie but I got caught up in real life (again!) and missed the deadline. my bad

When Samuel had first felt the cool breeze sweep through his shop, he had believed the door had unlatched itself once again and thought nothing of it, merely glad for the cold touch upon his brow as it made its way across the room. The feminine sigh that followed it though signaled the wind had not been alone in entering his shop and when he turned he was surprised to find the very face that he had just been dwelling on. "Sorry, Samuel... I don't want to intrude... but can I just sit here in the corner? There is peace here that I cannot find in the tavern today..." Samuel struggled for a moment to find the right words in response and finding none, he merely nodded his head and pointed to the lone chair in the shop that resided in the corner. As she made herself comfortable he resumed work, at first nervous by her presence but soon he found it a comfort to have her near and settled into his rhythm. She spent most of the day there, asking him about what he was doing, grateful for a distraction. How long they spent that way he couldn't say but soon the sun sank behind the distant mountains and the air turned from chilly to downright cold. Slowly her chair had moved closer to the warmth of the forge, bringing her closer to Samuel as well until he could, if he focused on it, feel her gentle breath against his skin as he worked. Soon Samuel wiped his brow and set down the hammer, his work done for the day. He looked over his shoulder to see Millie had dozed off in her chair. Not wanting to wake her, he set about cleaning his shop as quietly as possible but despite his efforts when he finished he turned to find her eyes open and her face wearing the smile of the recently woken. He realized it was the first time he had seen a smile on her face all day. "Listen," he started, "It's getting to be pretty dark out and what with the recent events at the tavern i thought you might.... well i got a spare bed and all, it ain't been used now for... well for some time now. Anyways if you wanted a place to bed down for the night, you are more than welcome."

As Samuel approached the bar he immediately sensed that things had gotten worse. The crowd gathered was much too large for this early in the morning, even Millie's famous cooking couldn't rouse this many people from bed so early. And with that thought Samuel's heart jumped up into his throat. Millie. He broke out into a run as he prayed, for the first time in a long while, that she would be alright. He burst through the door, breathing heavily, and scanned the room for her. The stench in the room was horrible and the crowd so packed that it made it impossible for him to immediately find anyone. He pushed his way through the crowd as best as he could. Finally he spotted her and he let out a sigh, slowly he felt his breathing return to normal. She was visibly upset but she was in one piece. Samuel felt very relieved, he felt saddened by the tragic death of poor Preston, but mostly he just felt relieved. Her cheeks were wet and she was shaking very slightly. She looked like she was lost, she looked scared, she looked like she needed someone to give her some comfort. But Samuel knew he wasn't up to the task, he had never been a man of words. He didn't know how to ease anothers pain or how to rock a child to sleep. His life knew no softness. And as if to confirm his thoughts he stood and silently watched as Xander sat by her side and gave her his gift. Samuel turned and left without speaking to anyone. It was all just as well, he needed to get back to his shop, recent events had more than tripled his work load as customer after customer had come in with rusty weaponry in need of sharpening.

If anyone had been watching Samuel's face when the news of the killing first reached him, they would have noticed a blank face with no expression. He reacted the same way he always had when devastating news came, with no emotion, only a cool, measured response. When he arrived at th scene he began to sweep the crowd for faces he recognized, evaluating both the man and his character. Enipul Mai had spoken first in the crowd, not that that surprised anyone, his lust for attention was as well known as his lust for alcohol. Samuel had always been a little wary of Enipul, but he was more of an annoyance than anything else. He hardly seemed to pose much of a threat to anyone. Samuel was surprised to see Ezekiel Llewellyn actually come out of his house himself to see the carnage in the street. And while he certainly seemed out of place and full of nothing but contempt for the villagers, he didnt really fit the bill of a killer. The rich were always much more subtle with their sins and judging from the few stories he had heard about the man's mysterious departure from the capitol, Ezekiel knew to stay in the shadows of anything sinister. Of course, when he had seen Millie his thoughts turned from his investigation and he instead thought of warm bread and hot soup, delivered with a cheeky remark on the few occasions Millie could be dragged from the kitchen. She looked pretty even though her face was obviously upset and he couldn't help but follow her gaze across the clearing, when he realized who she was staring at. Chalice Tantrella sat away from the crowd, disconnected it seemed. Oddly the smith realized the more he though on it, the more he realized how little he knew about her. He was not even sure where she resided, unusually for a small town like this. Under normal circumstances he didn't like to judge people too quickly, but these were not normal circumstances. OOC: Vote for Chalice Tantrella - gabrielcharon

I am going to attempt to incorporate some smithing terminology into my pieces, but i have no actual knowledge beyond the wikipedia article on smithing I read so when I inevitably screw something up forgive me and feel free to correct me if you know better

Samuel examined the twisted chunk of metal that was to become the head of a pick ax and decided it was not hot enough before returning it to the forge. At the moment the town's needs for a blacksmith were low and besides a few broken tools like the pick ax, there was very little work to be done. Samuel scratched at his beard as he examined his mostly empty shop, shrugged, and walked over to his grinding stone. As was his habit whenever he had some spare time at the shop, he began to sharpen the knife he always kept on his belt. In the same way that listening to the waves of the ocean calmed some people, listening to the grinding of the stone and knife centered Samuel and focused his weary mind. Soon his worries over the recent slow in work faded and he forgot about the rising cost of coal that was making it so hard for him to keep his forge hot. His mind let go of the replacement anvil he still needed to buy and the iron hammer, his favorite, that he had broken earlier that morning. But try as he might, for as long as he sat at that stone, he could not forget the head stone at the church yard, and the smaller one beside it, that shared his last name. He stopped and shook his head, trying his best to unthink that last thought, but the image of the two headstones stayed fresh in his mind. The lack of work bothered him not just because he had debts to pay, but mostly because he needed the work to keep his mind busy. He stood suddenly, knocking the chair beneath him aside. He walked quickly to the basin of water on the shelf, splashing his face and rubbing his eyes. When Cathy stepped into the shop water still dripped from his beard. The bread was still warm and it helped a great deal to lift his spirits. He thanked Cathy for delivering it to him and told her to pass along his gratitude to Millie as well. As she left the small shed, he returned to the forge only to discover he had been too inattentive and the pick ax head was now too hot and warped and he would have to begin again. He sighed and dumped the hot metal in a bucket of water to cool and then after a moment went to go get his coat. He would finish the pick ax later, right now he felt like going to thank Millie himself.

Samuel McGreggor - Town Blacksmith In his late 30s, Samuel is a towering 6'9" and a 280 pounds, most of the bulk in his hefty arms. Over time the hair on his head has thinned and a small patch of skin can be seen when he removes his cap, which he never does outside of his smithing shop. But he more than makes up for his hair loss with his large scraggly beard of dark black hair that extends off his chin a good 7 inches. He is often covered with soot and ash and is rarely seen outside of his shop except for the evenings when he can be found on his usual stool at Preston's Bar, easily the epicenter of activity of the small town. Although he drinks his fair share of whiskey from the bar, his hefty size keeps the liquor from having much of an effect on him. Those who watch him closely though will notice the strong effect that a certain bar cook has over him when she walks by though.

definitely in. i'll post the full details of a character later... i'm thinking blacksmith maybe

i had a similar problem with one of my previous entries too when i was trying to write dialogue for an angel and nothing i could write sounded angelic enough..... why do i do these things to myself

would definitely play if a game was started, no matter the theme