Megan slapped a few button on the interface that had appeared before her further customizing her in the game outfit. Character creation had been extremely difficult for her; she had gone through the gyrations for over two weeks tweaking and editing her load out before deciding to simply enter with a persona that closely matched her own. The truth was as much as she tried she couldn't capture anything near life like with the game's complex build a body interface. In the end, it was probably for the best; she shivered at the thought of walking around in someone else's skin anyway. "It would be nice if I were a bit taller though.." she had said before adjusting the height and various other components before she ended up looking completely inhuman again and forcing herself to restart. The next week had been deciding on the proper outfit; there were just far too many starter options to choose from. She had mixed and matched with a large variety of choices before deciding on her witches robes. This, of course, determined her starting mastery selection, it wouldn't make sense for a witch to have the two handed bludgeon mastery she had planned to. No, the dark witch, Darker Megan had no business holding weapons anyway. After all her dark, darkness would wither them away into darkness. After sitting for some time thinking of more adjectives, she eventually decided to start the game. "Link start!" ------------------------- The world around Megan shifted and spun as she was suddenly plummeted down into a soft bed of grass in some forest. "Wooooooooaaaaaahhhh." She exclaimed as she spun her head around taking in the gorgeous scenery. It was just so cool and life like, it was like nothing she had ever seen before. With a smile, she sprinted up to the nearest NPC looking, person, she could find which happened to be an older man standing near a cow. "Fu~ Fu~ Fu~, " Megan said shifting her hat to cover her eyes, "The grace of the darker god Bahamut has graced you, good sir! For before you lies the greatest Darkomancer the world has ever seen! Ha! Ha Ha"! Megan finished her very well practiced dramatic laughed with a flourish of her cape. "Now behold as I bless you with his might! And give you... uh...uhm..." She stopped floundering for what she was supposed to be doing. Weren't games suppose to give you objectives to clear when you started? The old man raised an eyebrow at the child, clearly unintimated by her persona before him. Still, her weirdness didn't stop him from asking, "Kid, I'm just looking for someone to milk my cow here, I'll pay you five gold for it." Megan blinked rapidly at the request, "Ah~ Ha~ Ha~ You are wise to seek the great powers of Darker Megan to assist you old man, for surely no other being could manage to steal the curd of the villainess Ms. Cowpie!" She began to circle the cow, jabbing her poorly made staff in its direction. The cow was unimpressed. "Hah! Uh. Uhm, now that I have subdued the beast, its milk will flow freely with...my...hands..." Timidly the girl, then squatted underneath the animal and began to tug at one of its udders in an inefficient manner.
One thing to expect out of Enrico, beyond the lies and trademark charisma, was his confidence. The single part that he held closest to himself at all times, for it was the one thing that no one could take away from him. He was the god Lheo after all, and ain't no gods losing their confidence. His back was straight, his hair was somehow parting perfectly, and his eyes were just shining confidence. He was the epitome of what a walking god should be. Except, you know, the fact that he had no power to his name. He was weak in every, single, possible way. That wasn't his fault, he started this way. He needed to figure out how to increase the skills and try to get non-garbage gear so that he could ruin the game for others by asserting himself and watching them squirm against his sword. Against his mastery of combat, as the God of War should have. That was just how things were, though the gods had cursed him with such low power that it was annoying. He needed to get strong, but he then found a very small lady trying to milk a cow. She didn't seem to enjoy it and... he couldn't agree more. That was the peasants work, and she was obviously a mage of some sort. Mages weren't to do simple work like such, they were to research magics and figure things out when the Gods wanted to grant them power, and that was how things were. That's sort of what happened. Kind of. According to his understanding, Gods had endless power, and the mages managed to be petty implications of gods. "Small mage. Why do you such a peasant job? Mage's like you are to be studying magic, just like God's like me are to be granting power, drinking, and dancing. Causing drama to be written about in the history books. I am Lheo, the God of War. What is your name, mage?" It was a sort of odd scene, if he were to think back to this. He was a reasonably tall person who had decided to look around and figure out who he just could seduce with the promise of power, and he was talking to a woman with udders in their hands, and a tall guy with red hair talking to them. That was just odd. Did it occur to him at the moment? Not in the slightest, but that also didn't quite matter. It was just the matter of trying to get this mage to listen to him and stop doing such a lowly job. If he could do that, the world would be proper once more, until he found something like that again, then it'd be off again and then he'd fix it again. That'll be dealt with at a later date, though.
The trail continued for awhile. It was taking him deeper into the forest, it seemed. Perhaps he should have gone the other way. However, just as the young adventurer had begun to question his decision, he saw an opening up ahead. More than that, in fact, he saw a farm! It wasn't exactly a town, but there was probably someone there who could tell him how to get to a town. At the very least, he could get a few quests perhaps from the NPCs there. Garta grinned and picked up his pace. He ran, quickly coming to the farm's front gate. He knew it might be kind of rude to let himself in if this were real life, but surely it was okay here. He lifted the gate out of it's place, slipped through, then closed it behind him, making certain that the door was shut entirely before leaving. He turned and could see what looked to be a small family of people at first glance, then as Garta made out the details of who was actually there, he could tell this was not the case. One of them was an older man, and his clothes screamed that he was a fieldworker. Before him stood a cow, and a small girl in clothing that told Garta she was a magic user. Then, approaching the two just before Garta arrived, there was another man with bright red hair closing in. Maybe this was a popular starting zone. The young, and much shorter male in the group approached, sheathing his sword as he realized he was still carrying it. He didn't want the farmer or either of the other two to think he was here to attack them or anything. Garta listened as the man shamed the girl for milking a cow, and Garta thought that was weird. If not for that, he would have assumed the guy was an NPC and was just one of the fieldworker's assistants. Garta pressed his fingers to his temple. The man introduce himself as Lheo, and the name filled in the space that was taken by '????' a moment ago. He claimed to be a god of war, however, and Garta's eyebrow raised. "Gods? I didn't know you could make gods in this game." Garta said, giving the red-haired man a suspicious look. He looked like a plain human, albeit a taller one than Garta. The shorter human sniffed the air, wondering if maybe he smelled different, but all he could smell was the stench of the cow. "Nothing wrong with milking a cow for a quest, though. You gotta get started somehow, right?" Garta said with a laugh as he crossed his hands behind his head. The owner of the farm was probably giving them the stink-eye about now. It didn't take three people to milk a cow after all. WC: 478
The world roared past in a dancing kaleidoscope of colors as the Admiral leaned low, hands tight on the reins of a horse. Trees and branches flew by as nothing more than vague blurs, unrecognizable half-forms that bore no true shape or purpose, for she was moving too quickly past them to capture their details. Ahead, they stood like patient vigils, growing larger as the mount bound through the woodlands and flew past them along a dirt road. A stream served as a constant landmark to her left; the only thing to provide a true sense of direction, considering the winding and meandering road. It was no simple country path used to go to market, or quickly find oneself to the next village. It was, as a matter of fact, not even a genuine road at all. The pathway was wide enough for a single horse to run along and it wove a hazarded course through the woods of Brisshal, so that one might test their mettle and gain some experience in navigating the reins of horseback. She had come here, from time to time, slowly honing her craft and practicing with the creatures that she hoped to one day ride into battle. In return for letting her ride and practice with the horse she paid a local breeder a handsome sum; not enough to buy a mount outright, but enough to compensate him for her practice. And it was good exercise for the beast as well, having a rider upon it, taking it through the winding course as people became used to handling the creature. It was a patient and obedient animal, obviously aware that those who rode it seldom knew fully what they were doing. Likely it had been programmed as a sort of beginner's tutorial to the riding skill... a means for people to get their feet wet, before they got their neck broken. But whatever the programming of the beast, of the farmer, of the sun on her skin... it all felt so real. Real enough that it was easy to forget the game, and just focus on the joy of being here and alive. She smiled and looked at the forking road ahead. To the left, she would take another lap of the track and could continue her practice. To the right, the stables, and a few farming settlements. One of which was the breeder. She felt the hard muscles of the horse surging beneath her, tired and tense but thundering along. She smelled its sweat and saw it beaded on its hide, heard the snort of its breaths. Patting its neck affectionately, she aimed it to the right, surging down a country road towards the farms collected there. It appeared there was more happening than she had been aware of as, drawing near, she saw no less than three other obvious players standing in a group at one of the farms. Was there an event happening that she didn't know about? Perhaps a mystery egg hunt, or a low level adventure she'd never had a chance to join? She was curious but did not want to crash their party... and regardless, she still had to return the horse to the stables. Still. She might as well put on a show! As the horse neared the farm at which Megan, Enrico and Garta stood the Admiral raised one of her hands from the reins and saluted them, flying past on horseback like some brave soldier out of legend. She road down the road and around a bend, out of sight of the children she'd just passed, down towards the homestead that the horse belonged to. She'd see him safely put away and then, if they were still around, go pester the kiddies about what was going on.
Megan sat timidly squeezing the cow's udder, it was so disgusting she couldn't believe people would actually drink this stuff. She would drink nothing but soda herself, which was good and pure, not the weird excretions of some animal. Surprisingly or not she wasn't very good at the task, having barley filled out the bottom of the small bucket beneath her. Luckily it wasn't long until she was interrupted by the red haired man. "Small mage. Why do you such a peasant job? Mage's like you are to be studying magic, just like God's like me are to be granting power, drinking, and dancing. Causing drama to be written about in the history books. I am Lheo, the God of War. What is your name, mage?" Megan snapped up from her position, cackling madly as she did so. "Fu~ Fu~ Fu~" She said as she held a single hand over her left eye, "How foolish to believe I am a mere student of magic. This would be an understandable mistake from those with mortal coils but you do know service to you and your kind War God." A smile flickered across the young girls face as she thrust her wonky staff towards the man's chest. "Behold! I am Princess Megan of the Dark, heed my name for it will be the ravager of this world! Fu! Fu! Fu!" It was around this time that they were then joined by another boy, this time with black hair. Though he did not introduce himself, it was very clear he did not know he was in the presence of immortality. Megan didn't try to stifle the brief laugh that erupted from her small frame, "Gods! Are the artifacts of the past, true power comes from the path of true darkness, of which I am the sole follower. Behind my very eye is a portal to the shadow realm itself, I could show you oblivion if you so will it! But alas, let me instruct you on the manner of this beast before hand. See here as this is no, normal bovine, fu~ fu! No normal bovine indeed, in fact she was once a god, the...uh... uhm... goddess Altripca! She once gave birth to the fertile lands before us, and now she is a cow." Megan stared at the two expectantly waiting for the obvious question on how a god became a cow, but she'd answer it regardless of whether it was asked or not, "You see, once the true darkness Bahamut emerged, he stole all the gods true power. Most were destroyed instantaneously, however, few were transformed into more... easily domesticated forms where their power could be further gleaned for their followers, like...myself!" Wasting no time, Megan fetched the bucket, holding it above her head briefly, her scrawny arms shaking from the weight. "I have gleaned the necessary power from Alpactira, Behold my secret darkness transfiguration!" With that she pulled the bucket close to her lips smelling the white liquid inside, gagging at its odor. What was she thinking? She couldn't drink such a putrid thing?! However, the two possible converts stood in front of her, and she would likely need the power it would bestow. Without further thought she lifted the bucket taking a small sip of the milk before tossing the canister away in disgust and gagging loudly. After a few moments she was able to dispel the nausea as she shakily face the two boys, giving them a thumbs up, "ha...ha..ha...you see...now my..power.. is even greater than ever before..." As she did she noticed an odd looking fully armored female struggling at riding a horse nearby. She wasn't sure what she was doing here, but seeing as she was likely uninterested in Megan's prophetic prose, she didn't bother calling out to her. She should be simply on her way, or she would be consumed by the shadow realm that lied within her left eye, held back by the covenant of the six.
Enrico sighed. This mage didn't seem to understand that actual nature of magus and the divine. Not to mention, this boy was being insolent. That was just how things were. Mortals didn't understand it. It was far above their understanding, and that was just how things were. Magus were the closest to the divine, in Enrico's opinion. They almost grasped it, but always fell short for one reason. That one reason being that they weren't divine in nature. That's what they didn't understand. You didn't just become divine. You had to get around it. Not to mention, this smaller magus wasn't aware that it wasn't how god's work to do like that. She had just drank nasty milk and was obviously showing the signs of it. He hadn't even noticed the armored woman. He was much too concerned with the blatant heresy happening in front of him. It was obscene. This was a bastardization of the gods but not to mention, this whole Bahamut thing was completely false. If this were the case, he wouldn't have gotten bastardized into this form by his father. That was the largest thing is that they obviously didn't understand. "I'm not here to deal with such false facts." He swiftly turned to the boy who had arrived, glaring. "I've been put in this bastardizing form by my father, Ys. That is how it is." He cracked his neck before turning back to the small Magus. "You don't understand the connection to the divine. It's blantantly obvious. You can't deal with gods like this. You must go to the altars, or be one of the few I try to convert to become a part of my army, to prove to my father that I can still conquer without my god-given power. No, I'll take people and take over all the kingdoms simply. I require manpower, and anyone who joins me now could have unlimited power soon enough." He stood tall, and he was taking turns looking them directly into the eyes. Looking people in the eyes and standing straight made you seem confident, and his tone of voice was just seeping confidence. That was who he was. If he weren't the god of war, he were the god of confidence. That's just who he was. If he was actually a god, he'd have been something else but a god of war. But being a god fuels his narcissism, thereby he chose to be the god that would probably end up having the most power in the world. The god of war. He wasn't quite sure how the power connection worked. Not that it mattered, he'd simply show them power and watch as they fell to his feet, begging to join him and begging that he won't mudrer them. As that was how it was supposed to be. He was the god of war, and nothing stopped the god of war. Nothing. Not even mortality. Especially not mortality.
The sudden clip-clopping of horse hooves roared past as a heavily armored woman flew by on horseback. She must be someone mildly important, in all that heavy armor she certainly looked like it at least. This was turning from mildly interesting, to perhaps a bit too weird for Alan's liking. "Crap..." Garta said, clearing his throat. "I didn't know this guy was an NPC..." He readjusted himself. "Errr, of course, my apologies mister... God of War, sir. What can I do for you? Anything to help you regain your former glory?" Garta asked politely. To be honest, this guy sounded like a villainous NPC, and he wasn't really sure he wanted to go down that path. In a game like this, he figured people were more inclined to be heroes, as that was the real fantasy here, right? Some of them might want to become nobles, and stuff like that, but he didn't see anyone joining up to this game to want to join the evil army. Whatever quest this guy offered, Garta would have to think carefully before he accepted or denied. It might have been weird, but Garta didn't really see what any of this cow milking and sour milk drinking business had to do with 'gods'. Was it possible these two were BOTH other players? Maybe this God of War guy was just a good roleplayer. Alan had to think for a minute, whether he wanted to approach this as Alan, or Garta. This was a unique and important step he had to take. This was a game, after all. Perhaps it was best that he continue on as Garta, but he knew in the back of his mind Alan was really the one calling the shots. Perhaps he should keep up the charade, if only to see if maybe they had a highly rewarding quest for him to take. "The cow-milking doesn't really seem... godly, I agree. But cows still need milking regardless. Who should really feel shamed for doing a common chore, that doesn't seem fair... though I think drinking from the bucket is a bit unnecessary, miss... sorry, I haven't even introduced myself. I am Garta, what can I call you?" He said, sort of brushing off the over-the-top self proclaimed God of War for the moment. He was sure this girl was another player, but the guy not so much. The farmer who gave the quest seemed pretty confused about it all, and to be fair, Garta was too. However he had the ability to sort of make sense of it, where an NPC might not. WC: 437 TWC: 915
The horse was deposited quite happily into his stall where he began to lap at water greedily, slaking the great thirst he had built up during their training together. She patted his neck affectionately and picked a brush up off of the stable walls, running it across his hide to lathe off the dirt and the sweat that clung hot and heavy to his brown coat. A whinny of pleasure came from the horse before he went back to drinking, letting her move the brush across his sides, his back, his flanks, and his neck. By the time she had finished he seemed much more at peace and rested after their hard ride through the woods, but she did not consider herself close to finished repaying the horse for his efforts with her. Leaving his stable, she went and collected several pails of water form the farm well, returning to dump them slowly across his back and let the cool water wash away the heat of his muscles and bring a comfortable temperature to his massive body. She refilled his water trough, checked his feed bag, then took his legs one by one and began to clean the horseshoes of any mud and rock that had gotten caught in them so that he would not be inhibited on his next run. The horse gave a snort of happiness as she patted his head before leaving the stall, closing it up behind her. The farmer, who had simply expected her to drop the horse off and leave, gave a happily surprised smile at the amount of care she had shown the creature and waved goodbye to her as she started down the country road towards the other farmsteads. It was longer on foot than on horseback, but it did not take too long to reach the place she had seen the gathering crowd, looking them over as she approached. It was too far to make out precisely what they were saying, but a few words did catch her immediate attention as they were carried over on the wind. Armies... Gods... Altars? Cow? Her eyes widened as she ran up to the fence that surrounded the property and placed a hand upon it, leaping over it lithely and continuing to sprint up to the place they occupied, near cow and barn. "Oi oi!" she shouted, putting on her best angry adult face as she realized that these were not non player characters, but PCs who were about to do something stupid one way or another. "Back away from the farmer's cow and leave the poor thing alone. Care to tell me what you're all doing here?" She looked them over, arms crossed across her chest, eyes narrowed in angry concern, patience a razor's edge that they had best tread carefully. Her fully armored form stood in the sunlight, gleaming off of iron plates and helmet, which seemed to depict ripples and waves that caught the light in strange ways. At her side was an old and rusted warhammer, and on her back rested a wooden club in a leather sheath, awaiting the simple act of reaching up and snatching the things down for a fight. A nose that appeared to have been broken and reset improperly was slightly crooked, and where armor did not cover her, pale scars could be seen. She was clearly a woman comfortable with battle, and she clearly intended to kick three children around if they planned on harming an innocent cow. She glanced at the empty milk pail nearby, which seemed to have been emptied recently. No milk on the ground from spilling, so... did they drink it? Cows could only produce so much milk a day, which meant that they'd likely stolen some of this farmer's livelihood and income if they did drink it! Her eyes narrowed even further as she looked them over, checking lips for any hint of the stuff. "...And, who stole that milk?" she added to her previous query. @Megan Tritor @Garta @Enrico Daniels
