Mythologies - Gna's Mission.

[Mai]

Name: Daisy
Gender: Female
Job: Dancer

Physical Description: About 5 feet tall with long green hair, adorned with various ribbons and bells. Her eyes are a similar vivid green, and her body is lithe from training. She wears revealing clothes, swathes of bright cloth wrapped about her hips and chest, decorated with bells and ribbons. Both her wrists and ankles are equally decorated. She's usually seen with her trusty tambourine.

Personality: Outgoing and confident. She's happy-go-lucky, enjoying each day and really only wants to have fun. She's not afraid of a challenge, but can be quite selfish and childish at times.

Vessel of: Vidar

[DragonMasterX]

Glad to see so many people interested. I've written all the gods that were taken by the respective users. The Mercenary was the one with the concept of the RPG, thus he's the GM additionally with me, which means whatever he says about the RPG will also be seen as a rule.

Anyhoo, we're all set, we have enough players, the location is Villnore, and so the RPG starts...

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Prologue: Echoing pasts.

Location: Villnore Town.

Mission: Find the caller and discover identities.

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Seventeen years later...

(Villnore: Streets)

"No. I need no assistance with directions." A hooded figure said, standing at a rather isolate corner in the fortified town. The voice made it hard to make out if it was male or female, but the offerer still bowed. "Much obligued."

"No... problem." Clark, a middle-aged man carrying a lumbering axe said as he left towards the bar.

"Humans can be so gentle, yet their timing is so awful." The person said to themself, not pleased by the fact they still were alone.

(Villnore: Bar)

As Clark entered, he was greeted by the barkeeper's wave, "Hey Clark! New booze's entered the market! We got a special delivery today!" The man grinned cheerfully, Clark sat at the stall next to him, the worry in his face made him wonder. "Yo, 'nything wrong man?"

"Oh, nothing!" Clark laughed a bit, "Just had a weird conversation with someone. Maybe it's the nerves with all the demons running amok nowadays but... haven't you noticed that hooded person standing at the western corner of town?" the man exclaimed, "Gives me the creeps!"

"You just need to drink some forgetitall serum, my good man. Lumbering can get on your nerves, aye?!" The bartender grinned again, serving a big mug of beer and handing it to the lumberjack, "Heh heh, c'mon! That one's on da house!"

[Masquerade]

(Villnore: Outskirts)

"I think you so very much for helping me out," an old lady said with a purple shawl wrapped around her hunched shoulders.

"It's no problem ma'am," Vocatio said, a smile on his face. He readjusted his messenger bag, which was now finally empty. The day had not been a very busy one.

"I feel bad about not being able to pay full price," the old woman continued.

"Well, please don't. Then it will make me feel bad." He laughed.

"Well, it's much too long of a journey for you to go back to your hometown now, so why don't you allow me to put you up for the night. I promise you a good supper." The old woman put her hands together and pleaded.

"Sure, that would be nice. I have to stay anyway. The paradise flycatcher that you sent me had two letters, one of which was your request to bring you the package that arrived in my hometown and another one telling me to stay here in Villnore."

The old woman gasped. "I didn't send you a paradise flycatcher with my request, I sent a cumulus pidgeon. Paradise flycatchers are so rare, anyone who had one would have to be rich."

'Someone must have intercepted the message in order to get this letter to me. It might be wise for me to stick around to find out who it was. I might even get paid for it." He smiled to himself at the thought of some more money. "Interesting. Oh well, I got your message, anyway, and I delivered to you the package. So, what's for supper?"

The old woman smiled and grabbed his hand and started leading him back to the town. "Beef stew. My husband will tell you that I make the best beef stew within miles of the town." More and more houses started to appear as Vocatio was led to his destiny.

[Soma Cruz]

In the road leading to Villmore a hooded man was approaching the entrance of the city "Finally, I'm here" He said dragging his tired feets on the ground I should have rented a horse With about a houndred meters to the entrance of Villmore the man took off his hood revealing his white hair and his golden eyes, but before he could reach the city Soma found himself with his back on the ground, his tiredness, hunger and thirst made him dizzy and he couldn't go on anymore, so he decided to take a rest right there in the middle of the road "But then again, what the hell am I doing in this far off place? and why am I even doing what the letter says?" Soma sighed as he took the letter from his bag and opened it, in the paper could be read a few words 'Your destiny awaits in Villnore' "But I'm really curious in what that means"

[DrakeZero]

(Villnore:Street)

Drake yawned as he made his way down street. It was like any other night shift for the Knight Elf. His long dark hair whisking back from the wind slightly as he made his way along the many buildings. "Why do I keep getting these dam nightshifts..." he grumbled to himself as he stretched is large arms out allowing his muscles to bludge. Unlike most elfs he was rather large and of course quicker to be discrimcated against he found in the knighthood. "The only thing that could make this worse would be rain." Suddenly a crack of lighting sparked along the clouds and a downpour littered down him. "Crud...." he grumbled once more putting on his hood so the rain didn't mess up his long black hair.

"Next time I'll give those guys a piece of my mind." He stopped short as he noticed a hooded figure speaking with an axe man. Then watching the axe man leave and the hooded figure . "Hmmmm...I know it doesn't say in the knighthood book to follow hooded people, but still may prove somewhat interesting hopefully." He said to himself as he made his way down the street trying to keep him out of sight of the hooded figure.

[Bee]

[Unmarked dirt road, middle of nowhere]

Brandon trudged on, his heavy smithing maul slung over his shoulder, his meager possessions in a worn leather bag on his back. Three days he's walked, without food or water, yet he pressed on. As he did so, the events that drove him on ran through his mind.


****

He was a simple smith, running a forge with his brother and father on the outskirts of a small village. Even at a young age, he was as strong as an oxen, and as fast as a wolf. No one knew why, but no one asked. Even at seventeen, he was the strongest at his family forge. Also being the fastest, he often delivered the weapons they made to the purchasers, and that day was no exception.

He ran there, delivered the weapon, and was running back, when he noticed smoke on the horizon. Worried, he pushed on, hoping everything was okay. When he got there, his jaw dropped.

The forge that him, his father and his brother built with their own hands, was nothing more than smouldering bits of wood. The mighty stone hearth which pumped out some of the finest weapons ever seen was smashed to rubble. He dropped to his knees, shocked at seeing his entire life's work gone.

After locating what was left of his family, he gave them a sad, quiet burial. At a loss, he began to look around, for anything. A few demon bodies indicated who did it, but, he was too saddened to care. Then, he saw it, written in the ashes, next to his smithing hammer, a lone word.

Villnore.

He picked up his maul, and gathered what he could, thankful that the demons didn't find their hidden stash of gold coins. Stuffing his smithing equipment, a few unburnt pieces of clothing, and what gold he could into a leather bag, he headed into town, to purchase more supplies.

Something told him to go to Villnore. Something urged him on.

****

Once in town, he saw that his home wasn't the only building hit by the demons. Several stores, homes, even the village orphanage was hit. There, he met the spastic but likeable Street Magician, which he came to know as a good friend. The scale of the destruction and murder was bordering on massive, as he walked up to the magician.

"Looks like the Gods didn't spare anyone." He said sadly, as he stepped up behind Ray.


OOC: me and Ray planned this part out last night.

[Mai]

Daisy breathed heavier as she spun and spun around. Her feet made patterns in the dusty road as she danced and the small bunch of onlookers, mostly older men she noticed, cheered as she twirled. She came to the climax of her dance and began to spin like a top. Faster she went, faster and faster, until she was nothing more than a blur of colour.

The men gasped, they always did, as dust flew up around the girl and her bells chimed excitedly.

Finally, she began to slow, her pulse racing and then she came to a graceful halt. The small crowd clapped, and all of them were wearing impressed smiles. However, few of them could spare a coin for a dancing girl, and Daisy's little money box was looking distinctly empty. A couple of coins were throw in, and the people began to move away.

'Tch, tight crowd.' The girl muttered to herself, picking up her box, flipping down the lid and placing it carefully into the pouch on her bell-adorned belt.
'I wonder if i made enough for a drink? There's nothing to do on nights like these but get smashed...' With that, she began to wander into the night, sighing heavily.

[Frisk E. Coyote]

[Outskirts of Villnore]

A lone figure draped in a showman's black, star-spangled traveling cloak slowly appeared in the distance down the dusty road. The figure was pulling some sort of miniature painted and varnished caravan decorated with elaborate markings and a few golden stars. Bold golden letters emblazoned the side of the cart and marked with a flourish; "THE TRICKSTER: Illusionist and Magician". The figure imposed itself well against the bright background, it was almost intimidating.

...Until it tripped and fell forward face-first, rump facing up. An all too human folly.

"Ow..." The figure grunted as he got up, brushing the sand and dust off his cloak. He lowered his hood to see the town of Villnore better, and sniffed, tears of relief filling his young eyes. "Oh Odin, I've finally reached Villnore!" He cheered, punching the sky with glee. "Three months. I, Ray the Trickster, sacrificed THREE MONTHS of traveling, making my name known and running from DEMONS. I've finally made it to my destination! Truly this is my destiny? If not... I would not have received those 'signs'..." He thought to himself as he wearily pulled his small caravan toward the Town of Villnore.

[Three Months Prior: Outskirts of the Town of Igelstalung]

Ray made his way back to his hometown, the orphanage where he grew up etched in his mind. The Orphanage had raised him when his parents abandoned him there. He wasn't the strongest and fittest of children, in fact, he was rather sickly, so his impoverished parents had dumped him in the orphanage.

He grew up with a natural love for parlor tricks and games. He was a clever child, quite bright. He found many ways to entertain his orphanage brothers and sisters. He especially loved to entertain young Mariam, his childhood sweetheart. When he left the orphanage one day, taken in by an abusive and selfish old Illusionist to fulfill his dreams, he vowed to return one day when he had made a name for himself, and ten years later, here he was, returning to the place that was his home until he was seven. He'd find his childhood sweetheart and take her around the world with him!

Sure, he wasn't THAT famous, but he was known simply as "Ray the Trickster", an entertainer known in several towns and small villages.

But what had happened to his sweet little village? His small, simple hometown? It was burning, charred, ruined. Billows of thick black smoke and ash blotted out the sky above it.

Ray left his cart and ran. He ran through the familiar streets, now filled with carnage and bodies. He ran through the alleys and jumped fences until he reached the old orphanage. Charred remains of burnt children, faces he never knew, and faces he remembered, but couldn't make out completely.

Grief stricken, he rolls up his sleeves, and buries his old friends and family in simple graves. Sweaty, backbreaking work, his hands covered in blood and filth, his clothes as ashen as his face. When it was over, he sat down, and covered his face. He never did meet Mariam again.

A voice spoke behind him, startling the young magician. To his relief, it was the village smith, one of the many survivors of the carnage. Ray grinned at the smith mysteriously yet solemnly, like a magician would, and straightened up.

"The Gods are dead." He replied. They became fast friends, swapping information. Ray told him about other villages and towns he had been to, and the smith told him what he had missed. They shared food and drink, helped a few survivors and injured out before they went their separate ways.

* * *

A week later, Ray practiced his tarot card reading on the side of the road. They told him to go north-east, to the city of Villnore. The handsome young magician grunted and tried again. Villnore was three months from where he was (crossroads smack-dab in the middle of nowhere). He got the same results, north-east. North-east. North-east.

He decided he'd just go west, to the nearest town, when he spread the cards out on the back of his caravan. To his surprise, scratchy letters suddenly burned through the cards, and in their current positions, it spelled: "GOTOVILLN OREIDIOT". After spacing the cards correctly, the smoldering letters read "GO TO VILLNORE IDIOT". He threw his arms up in defeat. "Alright, alright, to Villnore."

And so began his three-month quest of evading demons, surviving exposure, gaining recognition and of course, earning some Zeny along the way.

[Current Day: Outskirts of Villnore]

Ray squinted to check out another figure even further off than him. He was tired, and decided he would use that figure as a starting gun for him to continue up to Villnore's gates. When the figure reached him, he would continue walking alongside him/her.

He noticed another person had made a camp in the middle of the road to Villnore ahead of him. Perhaps that was a good idea? He was rather tired, but at least he had plenty of water and some left over bread.

[Bee]

[Dirt Road outside of Villnore]

As he trudged on, he noticed a few people on the horizon. A certain decorated cart made him smile, as he ran for it, momentarily forgetting his hunger and thirst for an old friend.

"Ray!" he shouted, as he ran up, and gave the smaller man a great bear hug, "you wouldn't happen to have a spare canteen of water, would ya?"

[Frisk E. Coyote]

[Outskirts of Villnore]

The young magician was leaning against the broad side of his cart when strong arms suddenly pulled him into a powerful bear-hug, actually lifting him off his feet. "LOOSEN UP- LOOSEN UP-" Ray wheezed, his eyes bugged out. At seventeen years old, Ray was still a rather sickly person. Seeing that it was his old friend, Brandon the Smith, he forgot his exhaustion and returned the bear-hug.

"Brandon! Its been what? Two? Three months?! How've you been?" He asked excitedly, immediately offering him his leather drinking pouch half full of water.