-He stands there, amongst the tall green grass that reflects the sun dully. His black cloak flutters lightly in the breeze, while the grass itself bends to the wind, giving in to its power. His eyes are hidden from view by the fact that he's wearing some sunglasses, sunglasses that block most of the horribly bright sunlight from striking his pupils. His brown hair is shining in the light coming from the sun, almost as dully as the grass about him. Within his right hand lies a strange type of staff, one that has a wicked looking blade on the end that is toward the sky. Along the length of the black oak staff there are various types of runes carved into it, giving it extra strength and less weight. His gaze is staring over toward the small village of Paoe, a village which contains one of the mythical Gates of Insanity, which he has been yearning to locate. After having spent tons of opa's(type of currency), he managed to drown an old man into drunkness, thus allowing him to gain the location of the first gate. Now he must go into the strange village, one that contains some humans, and surprisingly a few forest dwarfs.-

(By the way, I've just set the stage for a type of "RP" setting, do not come onto this and post stupid stuff, try and keep it along the lines. You can be any type of mythical race, with any type of outfit. This place contains some astounding stuff, but for the moment has a medieval setting. Right now Paoe is the only place in which you may be located, but that doesn't mean you can't be a wanderer like moi. Have fun, and remember, keep it to the story line, you guys don't know each other.)

-The strange wanderer slowly walks through the field of tall grass, heading toward the small town of Paoe. The village itself isn't amazing, the buildings are closely stacked together since that saves money, and the main thing that is created there are the astoundingly great clothing. Very few people wander toward Paoe though, since there is supposed to be a type of creature that haunts the region about it, one that is quite large and quite fast. The wanderer doesn't care though, he's here for a specific reason, and that reason is to open the one gate, which is located somewhere nearby. For the moment though he shall enjoy sleeping at the inn, which is named The Crow, and drinking some of the fine types of wines that they have in The Laughing Skeleton (bar/tavern). Besides that he might decide to purchase some more bread, water, and other types of necessities that are constantly in use during his traveling.-

(That was just for some background info on the mighty big bad evil town.)

-He walks along the main street of Paoe, his eyes glancing this way and that at the various people who are wandering about talking, buying, and just being stupid. The staff that he is holding brings about a problem though, as he is stopped by the law enforcement, a tall man and a golem made from rock, ask him to stop.-

-Self- Hello sirs. -bows a bit-

-Tall man- G'day to you stranger, what are you doing here?

-Self- I'm just wandering about, and I saw this wonderful place...

-Tall man- Well that there thing is a weapon, seeing as it's got a blade on it. We're going to have to take that from you, don'tcha know.

-Self- Fine... -sighs a bit-

-As the traveler hands the staff over, the golem moves forward and takes it from the tall man, sliding it into a large sack that it is carrying on it's backside. Slowly the law enforcement move off, having disarmed the traveler, who is neutral (yeah, you can be evil*violent*, neutral*stays out of fights, avoids them, doesn't choose sides*, or good*listens to the cops, helps out other good guys constantly*). The traveler walks along the road then, letting his hands go out of view within the folds of his long cloak, while the sun slowly starts to reach its apex. The traveler locates The Crow, and slides in, purchasing a room, and then going there to go over his plans.-

**two cloaked, hooded figures enter the bar, one large and clothed in pure white, and the other small, thin, and draped in black. The one in white takes a seat in a shadow corner, golden eyes shining in the dark. The other one moves towards the very back of the corner and seems to dissapear. The one in white orders a drink that remains untouched, and seems to be waiting for something**

**A figure moves from behind the bar, clothed in rags and torn material she glides effortlessly through the crowded area, her raven black hair floats aropund her face as she sits at a table opposite the two cloaked figures, her eyes an emerald seem to reflect the whole room in them, she closes her eyes and rest her head on her hands as if crying but she is muttering something under her breath**

** I walk into view with a seriously HUGE bose system, and put on Janis Joplin - Me and Bobby Mcgee ; flips on smoke machine and covering the ground with an artificial fog lit up only by the strobe lights flashing on and off in an intoxicating fashion. **

**spins in circles and just flips into a blues induced frenzy, pulls out slide guitar and follows the song as best he can**

The lights flicker and dim as he walks in. A tall man, he wears a long black cloak, draped over his skeletal frame, its hood left down. He seems to be shivering, like a guitar string playing some unheard chord, he gives an impression of deep tension. Soft black leather gauntlets cover his hands, reaching high along his forearm; the hands themselves almost unnaturally long and thin. The eerie image of a falling rook is depicted both on the back of his cloak and the front of his tunic; it seems to be crying for help. He wears a pair of steel-capped travelling boots over a pair of loose pants; black, like the rest of his attire. Coarse ash-grey hair frame his porcelain features, falling low past his shoulder blades. His face is stern, divided by a sharp hawkish nose; his features pale and seemingly worn by an eternity of wandering. His mouth is thin, almost lipless, and grey. Two sharp, ice-white scars meander down from the top of his brow to his cheek bone across both eyes. His eyelids, paler still than the rest of his features, are so thin that they seem unnecessary; certainly they offer little comfort that he does not see... then he opens his eyes and somehow the lights seem dimmer still, as if these distant orbs drew theit glow in. He opens his eyes and the dark, nebulous irises seem to consume him hungrily; and you cannot help wondering if, when they have left him an empty husk, they will come for you. His pupils tiny pinpricks of darkness in a storm, seem to flicker incessantly around the room, seeing all with a feverish intensity... His lips stretch gently into a humourless smile and he walks to the bar. His gait is uncounsciously graceful, like that of a dancer, and the heavy boots make very little sound despite their nature. With an inaudible sigh, he rests against the bar; and as he does, those closest guess, rather than see, the shape of a sword amidst the folds of his cloak. When he speaks, his voice is a low whisper, not unpleasant but so cold that the temperature seems to drop instantly; leaving the more sensitive guests inexplicably shivering. "Wine, please." at this, he reaches into his habit and pulls out an unrecognizable coin wich he flicks onto the bar. It lands with a rich, solid laughter on the counter: Gold.

-The man steps over to stare out the window of his small room, staring out across the massive field of green tall grass at the mighty mountains jutting upward toward the now darkening clouds. A slight smile touches his face as he recalls the legend of the seven gates of insanity, and his own thoughts then end up straying to that of the money that is supposed ot lie beyond the gates.-

Where or where can you be... -he mutters, his right hand sliding down the length of his side to settle on the hilt of his hidden weapon, a small dagger that is made from iron.-

-Then the man walks away from the window, heading toward the door that leads out of his room, his thoughts now settling on the idea of wandering about the streets for a bit to find out some information.-

The door is blocked for a moment by the body of an old woman. She is short, bent nearly in half by the rhuematism in her joints. Her hair, that was once black, is streaked with grey.

Her face is brown and lined with age. One eye is dark brown, yet the other has no color at all. Just an empty white orb. The old woman glances around nervously with her good eye, while clutching a twisted oak staff. The staff is decorated with runes and beads that make a soft tinkling sound when she moves.

Her clothes are dark earthy colours and layred thickly on her mishapen frame. Around her neck are crystals and small vials. A small leather sack is bound at her waist.

She smells of herbs and earth, and her hands are stained with dirt.

She hobbles in slowly, each step a pained effort to cross the room to a small table in front of the fire. A small black cat follows her in and eyes the others carefully before following in the old woman's wake.

The old woman eases herself slowly into a chair before giving a satisfied grunt. The cat takes a place in front of her, staring motionless into the fire.

::a tall elf hidden by a hooded cloak walks into the center of the town and posts a sign in the center of the square. He walks back in the direction he came not looking back disappearing in the throng of the crowd::

::The sign reads::... Just opened Blood Rose Tavern

**the two hooded, cloaked figures stand up and go over to the sound system. Both whistle inconspicuously, arms folded behind back, as suddenly as Mariah Carey cd starts playing. The sounds of "Always be my Baby" start filling the room**

^v^...aimless steps carry the girl about this town as though she had absolutely no concept of where she might be traveling. Hmm...the wonderful reality of immortality had caused this one to give up her earthly standings and take the time to enjoy all; drink, art, anything that her mind could marvel over. Digits with texture of spun silk found comfort in tresses of violet hue, entwining within the lowest curls near that petite waist. Clad simply in a gown of torn onyx, one of the many things she had "borrowed" during her "doll" making. Perfected brow peeks heavenward as she spots the newly opened tavern as that glossy muscle peeks out to moisten long dried tiers as in old habit. Cant of her head before the decision was made...sculpted legs carried her effortlessly towards the main door; knowing that simple twist and shove would grant her entrance. Such destination was quickly reached and the door was in fact opened. Oh how those orbs narrowed as lights from within assualted the silvered portals...gentle roll of bare shoulders as she stepped within...taking a seat near the hearth as attention was set on the fire's hypnotic dance...seemingly performed all for her...^v^

[Edited by XBeautysDemiseX on 04-10-01 at 074 PM]

-The man slowly walks along the streets of Paoe, ignoring the distant sounds of thunder that are crackling and rumbling along the whole of the plain. The sound of people hurrying to close their shutters to stop the nearing torrent cast down by the dark clouds almost defeans the stranger, as he slides over toward one of the few dark alleys that litter the town.-

-He thinks mainly of where to go, since there is very little in fact to go to since, of course, it is starting to near the end of the day. His dark cloak flutters lightly behind him as the cool wind blows through the town, filling the houses with some refreshing air, but also it is a warning about the pure power of the incoming storm.-