In this world, Magic is Everything. All people, all races, are granted with the power to perform mystical and magical feats via grimories, mystical tomes granted to each and every child on their 15th birthday. Those blessed by the mana can have their names written down in legend.
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[attr="class","shadowsTitle"] INT [break] Civilian
[attr="class","shadowsBody"]
[attr="class","shadowsHead"] Pick up and Move
Due to the recent storm some families have been displaced and need help to move their remaining things to the new homes that are being provided to them by the local lord. Lets get everyone all settled into their new homes.
[attr="class","shadowsSub"]Details
Maximum Number of Players: 4 [break]Minimum Word Count: 2000 [break]Location: Sosshi [break]Special Requirements:
[attr="class","shadowsSub"]NPC Information
What NPCs are in this mission? Please fill out the template for any notable NPCs. While those you have to socially interact with during the mission are not required any enemy that is presented in the mission must be listed in here. [break][break] Name of NPC:
[break] [break]Health Limit: [break]Physical Speed: [break]Physical Damage: [break]Magic Element and Types: [break]Combat Style: [break]Additional Information: Any information that you would like to add about the NPC. Such as what they look like, any noticeable features, what their stats are, etc.
Post by Kenja Ravencrest on Aug 28, 2023 15:11:54 GMT -5
The Ravencrest family name had always carried an air of prestige, a lineage of renowned wizards stretching back through generations. Kenja Ravencrest was no exception. With an analytical mind that sought answers to enigmatic mysteries, he had grown into a prodigy, a beacon of promise within the magical realm. But within the halls of his thoughts, a storm raged. His pride, once unshakeable, now lay shattered like glass beneath his feet. The golden grimoire, once a conduit for his extraordinary abilities, had become an enigma itself. Its pages had transformed, twisting into unfamiliar designs that left his mastery of magic in ruins. As Kenja stood in the quiet solitude of his chamber, he traced his fingers over the altered pages of his grimoire. Once intricate patterns now seemed alien, an echo of a power he could no longer access. He could almost hear its mocking whispers, reminding him of his failures. He had only just become a Magic Knight and already an unexpected darkness had descended. The magic that had once flowed through him like a river had become a mere trickle. Was it his fault? Had he turned his back on his own potential? The questions echoed within his mind, relentless in his pursuit of answers. Amid the shadows that consumed his pride, a glimmer of determination ignited within Kenja. His mind, once focused, now turned its gaze inward. He poured over the pages of his altered grimoire, dissecting the changes, seeking the key to unlock his lost powers. The flicker of electricity he now conjured felt feeble, like a candle in a storm. Yet, it was a spark of hope—an ember that refused to be extinguished. Kenja's once majestic magic had been reduced to generating fields of weak lightning, making a spark, making his hair stand up on end, a talent fit for amusement rather than awe.
The walls of his thoughts closed in on him, a labyrinth of doubts and regrets that offered no escape. Kenja had spent endless nights dissecting the enigma of his altered magic, each theory leading to more questions than answers. The weight of his shattered legacy pressed against his chest, a constant reminder of his limitations. One evening, as the moon cast a silvery glow over his chamber, Kenja realized that he needed to break free from the suffocating grip of his own mind. The path of introspection had led him to a dead end, and if he continued down this road, he risked losing not only his magic but also his mind. With a determined exhale, he rose from his seat and paced the room. He needed a reprieve, a chance to unburden his thoughts and seek solace beyond the confines of his own doubts. The image of Sosshi, a town marred by its own trials and curses, flashed before his mind's eye. They too were suffering as they struggled to recover from a storm, perhaps he could find a way to rise alongside them.
Kenja would travel to Sosshi as a Magic Knight as a helper seeking to ease the burden of others. The physical labor, the simple tasks that required strength and effort, held the potential to break the cycle of endless introspection that had ensnared him. As Kenja reached the outskirts of the town, the scent of charred wood lingered in the air. He made his way to the heart of the town, where the local lord's manor stood. The stone walls seemed to escape the wrath of the storm. Knocking, Kenja entered the manor's courtyard, where a figure awaited. The lord, a dignified man with an air of authority, regarded him with curiosity. "Greetings, Lord Reinhart," Kenja spoke, his voice steady despite the tumult within. "I come with a willingness to offer assistance to the people of Sosshi." Lord Reinhart's eyes held a mixture of surprise and appreciation. "A Magic Knight from the Golden Dawn, if I'm not mistaken. Your presence is a rare sight in these parts." Kenja nodded as a somber expression crossed Lord Reinhart's face. "Indeed. The storm has left many of our families displaced, their homes destroyed. We are providing new shelters, but they need assistance in moving their belongings and securing resources." "Tell me, Lord Reinhart," Kenja inquired, "what tasks lie ahead to aid the people of Sosshi?" Lord Reinhart's gaze held Kenjas own. "We have two immediate needs: game for sustenance and timber for the new shelters. The surrounding forest is rich in both, but it's a task that requires skill and endurance." Kenja processed the information. Hunting and gathering resources were tasks that he could do. Same with obtaining timber. "I understand," he replied. "Consider me at your service. I'll help with the hunting and the gathering of timber." A nod of agreement passed between them, a silent understanding of the role Kenja would play in Sosshi's recovery. As he prepared to embark on these tasks, his mind embraced the simplicity of the challenges ahead. Hunting game and chopping down trees—the primal essence of survival.
Post by Kenja Ravencrest on Aug 28, 2023 19:23:08 GMT -5
His herculean strength, a gift honed through years of rigorous training, came to the fore as he tracked his prey. His years of Ravencrest training guided him toward the trails frequented by deer and boar. With each step, his footfalls were silent, leaving no trace of his approach. The bow, like any weapon in his family, was an extension of his arms, and was drawn quietly. His fingers slid along the string, and an arrow found its mark in a majestic deer that had wandered into his sights was now dead. The creature fell with a slumped poise from the instant kill through it's neck. The forest floor crunched beneath his boots as he approached the fallen deer. He knelt beside the deer, his hands steady as he performed the age old ritual of preparing the hunt. His blade glinted as it deftly moved, meticulously slicing through skin and muscle. The process was methodical, a dance of practiced skill born from forced training. With each precise movement, he detached the hide from the carcass, his hands sure despite the turmoil within. As the sun cast dappled patterns through the leaves overhead, Kenja's focus remained unwavering. The deer was reduced to manageable portions, a bounty that would sustain the families in need. The forest's creatures observed his actions with a mixture of curiosity and caution as if acknowledging his role as both predator and provider. By the time the sun began its descent, Kenja had gathered what he needed. The weight of the meat hung over his shoulder as he made his way back to Sosshi. The challenges of the day had offered him solace, a chance to channel his strength into something tangible.
Post by Kenja Ravencrest on Aug 29, 2023 9:13:49 GMT -5
Days turned into a rhythm of purpose for Kenja as he stood among the local woodsmen, axe in hand. The sun-dappled glades echoed with the rhythmic thuds of steel meeting wood, each strike building upon the scares of sword practice on his hands. His herculean strength once channeled through spells of grandeur, now found its outlet in the raw simplicity of manual labor. The axe cleaved through trees with a force that resonated throughout the woods. Hours turned into days, and with each passing moment, Kenja's mind became calm, less burdened with his thoughts about his magic. The blisters that formed on his palms were badges of honor, overlapping the ones gained through years of weapon training from the militaristic Ravencrest family. The woodsmen, who had initially regarded him with curiosity, now shared camaraderie forged in the crucible of labor. They would take breaks with him and overlook Kenja's stoic personality realizing he was a good guy. The thud of falling trees reverberated through the forest, a symphony of nature and human effort harmonizing. Kenja's brow was furrowed in concentration, his normally stoic expression etched with sweat. The rhythmic routine of chopping, heaving, and resting became his reality, a reality that began to heal the wounds of his shattered pride, but only slightly. As the sun set on another day of labor, Kenja stood amidst the felled trees, his breathing steady and his heart beat strong. His calloused hands gripped the axe and he looked at it. He felt like throwing it, kicking the logs, and throwing a fit but that would be beneath him. No matter how frustrated he was, he had an image to uphold. The woodsmen, once strangers, now regarded him with a newfound respect. His presence among them had transcended their opinion of nobility, his efforts showing them how great the Ravencrest were, and the Golden Dawn to the the people of Sosshi.
As Kenja continued his endeavors in Sosshi, his struggles with his altered magic gnawed at the edges of his thoughts like a persistent whisper. The nights brought no respite from his inner turmoil, and with each attempt to invoke magic, he was met with the stark reality of his limitations. It was a puzzle, a conundrum that defied explanation. As he lay in his makeshift lodgings one night, he spun a web of theories to explain the inexplicable. The circumstances of his altered magic seemed to hint at a deliberate intervention—a force that sought to curtail his abilities. Was it a curse, cast upon him for reasons he could not fathom? Or had his own hubris drawn forth consequences beyond his understanding? Another theory floated to the surface—the possibility of a dormant power within him, a power that needed unlocking. Perhaps his altered grimoire held secrets that he had yet to uncover. The shift in the grimoire's design suggested a transformation, a change that might have affected his magical essence on a fundamental level. It had clicked in Kenja's mind that this was important. There was an ease of relaxation that washed over him. Finally, he understood that he wasn't cursed or punished. As he grew, transformed, and prepared for something greater, his grimoire evolved.
Post by Kenja Ravencrest on Aug 29, 2023 11:38:57 GMT -5
The dawn painted the sky in hues of soft rose and gold, a canvas that seemed to mirror Kenja's renewed sense of purpose since coming to terms with his magic and his realization of what was happening. As he rose from his makeshift bed, the thought of providing nourishment to the storm survivors as to how he'd help them today. He set about his preparations with methodical precision. The forest, a bountiful resource, offered edible plants that would complement the game he had hunted the day before. Kenja moved through the undergrowth, his keen eyes identifying each plant, each berry that would contribute to the meal. Kindling for the fire was next on his agenda. Kenja selected dry twigs and branches, and and then brought out his secret weapon - his lightning magic. He focused his energy on a spark that shot out from his fingertips and landed on the patch of dry grass and twigs under a large pot. The grass burst into flames, and Kenja carefully added the kindling to create a roaring fire. With the fire established, Kenja turned his attention to the stew. The vegetables he had gathered—carrots, potatoes, onions, and celery—were carefully chopped. The game he had caught the day before, rabbits and squirrels, their meat added to the pot along with water and a handful of seasonings. As the pot simmered over the crackling flames, the smell washed over him. He had transformed simple ingredients into nourishment, proving that even in the absence of grand magical gestures, he held the power to provide. He took a tentative sip of the stew, savoring its flavor. It was a humble meal, perhaps not the creation of a seasoned cook, but it was more than sufficient. His gaze lifted from the fire, and he found himself met by the eyes of the storm survivors. Kenja served up bowls of stew to the survivors. They gathered around the fire, laughter, and stories intertwining like the tendrils of smoke that rose into the sky. Kenja watched them, a silent observer.
Kenja had spent some time in Sosshi assisting the town in any way he could. He had helped to rebuild houses, distribute food and supplies, and offer his field medic medical expertise to those who were injured in the devastating storm that had hit the little town. As he made his way through the town, he could see the progress that had been made. The once shattered buildings were now starting to stand tall again, and the people had started to go about their daily lives little by little. Today was the final day, as Kenja had arranged for supplies to be delivered to the town and they would no longer need him. As the last crate was placed on the ground it was time for Kenja to bid the town farewell and head back to the Golden Dawn headquarters. Before heading back he would go see the town leader again. Standing before Lord Reinhart, Kenja's stoic demeanor held normally. "Lord Reinhart," he began, his voice even and composed, "My time here concludes. The supplies you requested have been successfully delivered, and the recovery efforts are well underway." Lord Reinhart's gaze held a blend of appreciation and understanding, acknowledging the impact of Kenja's contributions to the town's revival. "Your presence has been invaluable to Sosshi, Kenja Ravencrest. The town owes you a debt of gratitude." Kenja's expression remained unchanged. "It was my honor to offer assistance. The resilience of Sosshi's people has left an indelible mark." With a nod of mutual respect, Kenja turned to leave, the manor's doors closing softly behind him as he embarked back home.
Kenja was relieved to finally be back at the Golden Dawn headquarters after his mission to help out the town that had been ravaged by the storm. He had worked tirelessly to ensure that the town had recovered from the damage and was finally functional again. As he walked into the headquarters, he was greeted by his superior, who congratulated him on a job well done. "Kenja, I heard that you did an amazing job out there. You really went above and beyond what was expected of you," his superior said with a smile. His superior nodded before continuing, "Now that you have first-hand experience in disaster relief, there's a new mission that I think would be perfect for you. A tornado hit the town of Nairn and they are in desperate need of assistance. I believe you are just the person for the job." Kenja's heart sank at the thought of having to leave once again so soon after returning. However, he knew that this was part of his duty as a member of the Golden Dawn. "I understand, sir. When do I leave?" Kenja asked, already mentally preparing himself for the journey ahead. "You will leave first thing tomorrow morning. We have arranged for transportation and supplies to be sent to Nairn," his superior answered. Kenja nodded, his mind already racing with thoughts of what he would need to do once he arrived in Nairn. He knew that the people there were counting on him and he would not let them down.
