Calling all regulars!

okay summers coming, a week from now I'll be free from the dealines that have plagued me for 10 months, and I feel like writing, gonna give another go at wrtinging some of my own stuff and I feel like a collaboration too, more fun, more gain.


So shall we start brainstorming ideas?


I'm thinking we play it up a bit, a half modern half fantasy setting?

 

gl hf ^^

 

Man I want to join, but I can only really promise from 17th of June onwards, since that's my last exam.

Half modern half fantasy? Do you mean the modern era with fantasy based weaponry, magic and what not?

Or do you want to go with the FF10 style?

 

Heres what I came to after some ponderment:


A post-apocalyptic dystopian partially-steampunk fantasy........western.

 

I don't like the western part, but the rest sounds good.

Post-Apoc? How many times has that been suggested now?

 

Its a good way to balance fantasy with partially modern technology.

prevents the technology taking the upper hand.

 

Yes it does. The Steam-punk theme always helps aswell.

Now, are we going to have additional races or just humans?

 

well this is what brainstorming is for!


Yes i think additional races, which may revitalise the western aspect if we choose to keep it.

 

That western aspect feels like it'll just totally kill the RP.

 

Y'know, I always meant to organize a Terre d'Ange RPG once Katie stopped hogging the books and started sharing them with Sash'.

Back on topic... Westerns? Too iffy. I just remember all the bad movies I've seen.

 

but think of firefly, space-western worked a treat, fantasy western might too.

its just an option, this is open to discussion and all input is welcome, if nobody wants a western element, then no western element.

 

Met's opinionated enough for ten people.

I'm ambivalent about the western option. I'd probably choose not to work with it, but I don't have a problem working around it either.

 

I have a problem working with it. It's makes it too cheesy

 

How about this, i want you all to do some homework, pick three story adjectives/genres or themes in order to form a concept, and just give a brief explanation of what could be done with it, we keep cycling and merging ideas till we get something exciting.

 

I'll try...when i'm not revising :S

 

Oh HELL no.

I'm finally graduating from that prison they called a "school," where I spent 7 years of my life. If you think you're gonna' trick me into doing more work, you're sadly mistaken.

Besides I'm really lazy

 

I'd be interested in joining, if you're in need of another.

 

We are in need of more, but not the likes of you!



heh, kidding, jump in, add any suggestions you like.

 

Hey Cru!

I'd also be interested in joining, although I don't really have any ideas at this point... >.>

 

Bored, an idea broad enough to include many themes:


The West

Cladius stumbled forward retching, tearing at his collar with gauntlets already soaked in blood. Each breath drew more suffering than air, each moment staggering bought more anguish than ground beneath his boots. But it was his last resigned task, to reach the crest of the ridge and see what he already knew.

Now on his knees, he crawled hand over hand through gravel and dirt, thick crimson drops marking his passage.

By the time he reached the crest his face was a nightmare, half caked in dry blood, the rest a fresh red slow, what little bare skin was pale and mottled but his eyes were focused and he saw it all.

Below an angry sky lay fifty thousand men, dead, all red terrible death borne in wretched pain and torment, breath choked and backs broken, worse than any blade could rend.

Consigned to his fate, Cladius, with the last of his strength, turned over to look back down the hill. The figure had followed him up the rise from the meeting tent, footprints of black ash marking the path beside Cladius’ own red crawl.

It reached him, looming without height. Its grim white teeth closed, cutting off the thin trail of red mist that seeped into the air. Teeth closed, lips parted, it smiled.

Cladius gasped for breath and coughed a red torrent, somehow he managed a single choked word. “..why?”

“Because.” The figure said, in tones more human than his own. “It was written.”

In this last moment of confusion, Cladius wept red tears and choked on his blood.

__________________

Driliath

Dremetian Primad sat alone on the steps of the throne-room dais. With the torches out and the shutters closed a room that seated two hundred seemed as close and as cold as a grave.

His brother was dead, there was nothing more certain to him. Three days before his coronation and he felt pain like a knife in his belly, soiling everything he had waited for since he had opened his eyes to the world.

The gilded chair loomed behind him, mocking him, how could he be king when he was this weak? How could he mourn a brother when his country was at war? The enemy on his soil. His people needed him and he wanted nothing but to cry alone.

The door burst open as if ripped apart by howling winds, but the night air was still, and a procession of is advisors flooded into the stagnant air.

“How did the attack on Genis proceed?” Demetian ventured, with the weakened interest of a brother and the grave concern of a leader.

“Our army was utterly destroyed!” Freidrich proclaimed with urgency.

Dremetian closed his eyes. “And so the Saidri hordes march for Driliath unopposed.”

The councillors shied. “No.” Pondin finally uttered.

“They were repelled?”

“Both sides were massacred before fighting began, our scouts found them lying as if they had died as they stood in formation. They……..they bled to death.”

There were silence, no one wanted to say it, speak of the rumours in the west of pestilence and death like nothing before, striking every city and village with inhuman disdain. Cladius had gone west to forge a treaty with Palizad despite the danger, and had died there, Dremetian could only shy from the horrific images his mind conjured of his brother bleeding slowly, alone.

“The Blood Plague” Dremetian said at last, as some chant to ward off his brother’s crimson face.

“It can’t be” Friedrich contested. “No plague travels that fast, It only hit Freneth a fortnight past, a thousand leagues across the ocean! Impossible!”

“They say the Saidri came because their own home was struck, they fight us out of need or perhaps they think we are to blame.” Pondin droned on slowly.

“shut the gates.” Dremetian said weakly. No one moved.

“SHUT THE GATES!” He roared at last, the pain of loss stirring anger in his heart.

Freidrich strode off the consult the guard captains, Dremetian eased himself back down onto the steps.

“If it his Genis it could be here at any moment. There are a hundred thousand people in the city of Driliath, they are my responsibility. We must quarantine the city at once. Shut the gates and pray they can hold back the red death.”