Initial Test

[Synesen Iskadar]

This test is for all those aiming for a higher up position on this site, Kingdoms of Adunasir. The purpose of this test is to weed out those that do not meet the requirments for the proposed position. If you do not make it through this test, do not get mad or anything. We will use the results here to work on other positions as they arise later on down the road.

For this test, you will give information and a background for a person of your own creation. From there I will then create a scenario that you will have to work with. Depending upon your response to the scenario and your roleplaying of this character, I will determine who will go on to the next test. Again, do not worry if you do not make it through this test, more oportunities for positions will arise in the future.

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You walk into a town, the gate keepers let you in without incident although the feeling you get from the people living here is that of gloom and depression. An old woman asks for news of her son long dead in a war years before, denial of her sons death had taken her sanity long ago. The people that you see doing their business are quieter than a usual town. Along the streets, it is becoming increasingly noticeable that no children are at play. You begin to notice the hard times that have been here for almost all the people you see are armed, be it with a sword, rapier, or any other of various weapons. As you walk across the thresshold of what is obviously a tavern, the gloomy silence of the town is broken by the soft music within. A few turn to look at you as you enter before turning back to their drinks. Other than the music and whisperred conversations here and there, all is still. From the other side of the counter, the bartender gives you a wary look before turning back to wiping off the glass in his hand. Stepping inside, you hear the scraping of a stool from the left. A tall gaunt individual begins walking towards you. When he reaches you, he looks once over his shoulder and motions for you to follow him over to the table he had just been at.

"I hear that you may be able to help us in our cause here," he says with a harsh rasping voice, "You see, I assume, that this town has fallen into a state of disrepair as a result of the battles we have been through with the beasts. The people here are on edge because the leader of the enemy army had escaped during the last battle. They fear that he will return again. This is where you come in, we have heard of your accomplishments in the past concerning tasks such as this.. we need you to find the beast leader and dispose of him however you see fit. It is your choice on whether or not you will willing accept this task, however I believe it is in your best interests."

As he finishes talking to you, he smiles, his teeth in a state of disrepair almost as bad as the city.

***********

Your task is to respond to this however you see fit. Put in a good description of your character and his/her actions. Also, note that you are not a user of magic nor do you have supernatural talents. You are not armed with an arsenal of equipment, only that which you can carry on your back.

[Surreal]

((Here goes nothing...please don't make me a barwench))

Surreal willed herself not to wince at the disgusting condition of the man’s teeth-after all, it would not do for an assassin such as herself to show emotions even in the face of such...horror... She sighed, sweeping a pale hand through her bangs, stopping when she remembered that her lang aqua hair was tied into a braid. Surreal’s hair had earned her more fame than her killings had, which was a compliment, really. If everyone knew that she had natural aqua hair that framed a very pale face and knew she was an assassin and she still managed to be successful in her occupation, well then that was just making her victories all the sweeter.

Surreal studied the man once more, sweeping her bright aqua eyes over him coldly. Could she really trust any information she got off a man such as this? Surreal’s hand twitched involunatirily over her bow, which was her one and only weapon. She had set it beside her long legs when she sat rather than be choked or prodded by the large weapon, but it was definately set so she could use it within seconds if she had to. Of course, that was just another one of her many fames-her method of killing. The bow itself was a longbow, completely black, just like the arrows in the quiver strapped across her back. So there was the image of fear: a well-built young woman with long aqua hair, pale skin, and a black bow. You saw her and you ran, dammit.

“And why is it in my best interests?” Surreal asked, the remnants of an old, exotic accent in her voice. Surreal's rich accent came from being abandoned, left in the 'care' of hungry snow leopards at the roof of the world as a small child. She had been saved by locals of the area, who both trained her and gave her the nomadic habits that had made life as an assassin that much easier.

Surreal clicked her long, blood-red fingernails on the bow as she watched the man impatiently, warning him to hurry up or join her long list of victims. So what if she was just a woman, and quite a short one-only 5’4”-at that? She had earned her reputation and if this man didn’t hurry up then his cold, dead body would just be another grimy decoration to the filthy bar.

[Rit Megliaf]

The air of the town brought back horrible memoried for Rit. One's of his old land and old ways of living. Of the glory of the sea and his terrible defeat... No, he wouldn't think of that time any longer. It had happened and yes it was horrible but that was just a better reason to forget about it. Yet the thoughts just kept on rolling into his head like waves crashing into the shore line. "Stop." He mumbled harshly to himself and closed his eyes tight for a moment. "Stop." He mumbles again, this time slightly louder. But the memories just kept on flowing in, they weren't going to leave they were there every single inch of it. Of the might of the enemy's armies, of his one men's cries for help, of their deaths, of the villager's cries for help, of thier deaths. "Stop it!" This was no whisper and no mumble yet the armed people around him didn't seem to care much.

He reopened his eyes and looked down, an old hag stood before him. She was rambling about her son and wars and what he was doing. He could tell though in the way that this woman talked the true secret behind her questions. Her son was long dead and not coming back. He knew this talk very well for at times he did the same. "Get out of my way you old fool." He still said this though and pushed her aside. He wouldn't let himself talk to her, her words had allready made the memories come faster. Of his poor mother, of his rapist father, of thier deaths, of his leadership, of his failure.

He found himself walking into a bar, a great place to drown the memories. The music was irratating and so was the stares of the many alcoholics about the place. He began to make his way towardthe bar but was stopped by a man with horrible tooth decay. Following this man back to where he was sitting he took a deep breath in of the alcohol filled air. He sat down at the stool next to the man's and took his great sword off his back. Leaning it against the counter he listened to this man's story. It was a plee for help. "Sure." He said coldly. He had nothing else better to do.

[Ramona]

((OK, enjoy))


A lone, cloaked figure walked into the streets obviously a woman, even if she wore a hooded cloak that concealed most of her identity, there could be no mistaking the fact.

Slender, though even through the light, emerald green cloak that stood out in the dreary midst of the chaos that had brought this town into its shabby, disrepair and gloomy state, one could tell, she was worthy of respect.

Her emerald eyes fell upon an old woman, pleading for an answer to a question that she will not accept. Ramona smiled sadly at the woman and laid one hand on the poor woman’s shoulder.

"Lo troverete presto abbastanza madre." She said, her Italian accent heavy, but the woman, who really had no idea as to what was said, seemed to acknowledge that Ramona’s words were true, what ever they may have been, to her old, longing ears, they sounded reassuring and that was all she was looking for, so, she walked away from the new stranger in her town, to seek out a new ear.
“Yes, I feel you will see him soon.” Ramona said quietly as she found her feet ascending the steps to a rundown old tavern.

The soft, almost alluring sound of the music in here simply didn’t belong. To Ramona, there should have been loud barks from local drunkards, the occasional clash of broken tankards on the dusty, tavern floor and most of all, the laughter of the jolly soldiers, on leave for the night, drinking with wh0res on their knees and forgetting about their problems, if only for a night or two. However, in here, there was none of that. Even the bar tenders lack of interest in her arrival signified the dire state of despair this town, perhaps this entire Kingdome, was in.

Ramona removed her hood to reveal a long mass of shimmering, straight black locks that fell to be hidden below the top of her cloak to an unknown length. With the sides of her hair pulled back, to keep her eyes free from its restraints, one could see, she definitely was not human, but Elvin, of some sort.

She noticed a movement near the center of the tavern and watched, her hand on the hilt of a Katana at her side, as a truly, ugly man walked up to her and motioned her to follow him. She adjusted the light weight of her crossbow, hanging from her back and smiled slightly at the reassuring feel of the quiver of arrows residing next to it as it moved slightly with the small clink of metallic sound as the tips rattled against one another.

Was this the reason she had come? Who was this man and why would he be interested in her, perhaps he knew who she was, perhaps, he was just desperate. What ever the case may be, she followed him, if for no other reason, than to perhaps find some sort of information as to what has driven a once great city into such a drab and desperate state.

Ramona sat at his table and listened closely to his words, her mind ticking off the items she would perhaps need to destroy this menace that seemed to disrupt the very lives of these people. He had her at the words of the beast, she had seen far too much destruction from this creature to simply walk away from such an opportunity to slay what it was that fouled the lives of so many.

“I sir, will help, let my bow be true, and the bite of my steel forever rid your people of this monster that plagues your city.” She replied without a second glance at the man’s less than appealing smile. "La Regina Ramona, è sul vostro lato." She finished with a slight incline of her regal head.

[Naomi Lilium]

Hazel eyes glittered from between locks of crimson hair; for some reason Naomi felt a comfort in keeping her pale face hidden whilst she walked the roads of this deary town. It left the silent echos of depression ringing in the young woman's ears. The streets were also too empty for her liking, it was filled with old age, and aggression, as the sun glinted off the steel from various and sundry weaponry. It made each one of her steps in this unhomely place careful, and calculated; her character skirt prancing around her legs as her small, sandal clad feet slowly moved along the dusty road. Though a quiet, elderly whisper stopped her tracks.

Naomi's lithe form turned back to look for the voice's owner; an aged woman with the look of longing in her sorrow-filled eyes. Yes, she recognized that look: denial, for just a second a look of sympathy filled Naomi's normally cold-as-ice eyes. Possibly her son had moved past his mortal years? Naomi didn't know, "No word of the young man has reached my ears," she replied quietly, ripping her gaze away from the woman, and returned it to the entrance of the tavern; her destination.

The soft music did little to filter out the feel of gloom, though the quiet chattering was the closest thing she had gotten so far to a sense of humanity. Though that was quickly beaten by an invitation to sit down by a man across the room. He had a threatening stature, it was only the young girl's arrogance that kept her from being nervous in his presence. More then anything he irritated her, and all the more when it only took a matter of seconds for him to start throwing threats at her.

The tiny woman knew she should probably listen to him, and that she probably wasn't helping herself much when she was visibly disgusted at the sight of his teeth. But, the tenacious girl didn't pay heed to such degrading logic as that, "I believe I am far more capable of determining my best interests then a man," Naomi coughed there, "Excuse me, such as yourself. Though, maybe if you could enlighten me as to what might be in this for me, I might just be inclined to agree with you on what is best for me."

[Salene]

The condition of the town was honestly no surprise to Salene. Through her travels about the world, she'd seen towns in far worse condition than this. Cottages burnt to the ground, dirty, orphaned children sobbing outside the charred remains of their former homes. And the women, broken, beaten, often dead, having been used by the enemy soldiers as it seemed to be custom.

But still, the desolation of the existence of those here sent a pang of empathy through even Salene's battle hardened heart, as she imagined what it might be like to be these people. Although she was herself not well off, she'd recently been given a small amount of money for soldier's wages, and she pitched a coin to a particularly thin woman on the street, who clutched a small child that was clean but still much thinner than he should be at her chest.

She brushed absentmindedly at a lock of somewhat tangled blonde hair that strayed from a thin strip of leather that bound the majority of the rest where it didn't obscure her vision. Her palm rested absentmindedly on the hilt of a battle tested gladius, her brown eyes watching her surroundings warily, in case one of the more desperate of the current inhabitants of the tavern should mistake her for a woman of questionable strength (though, aside from her short stature and her gender, she couldn't think of anything that would imply that) and attempt to alleviate his poverty through her resources.

Her entire body tensed as the man approached, similarly thin as the rest of the villagers, seeming to correspond to the blight that seemed to hang over every living thing here. Even the plants seem to wilt and gray with the weight of human depression that hung in the air like an early morning fog. However, beneath his outer shell, Salene saw a man with good morals and a kind heart, just jaded by the hard times that had come to his home at the hands of a foe.

Thus, Salene followed him, albeit cautiously, to the table as he gestured her to do. She sat opposite him, listening to him carefully, regarding his words and trying to be as objective as possible. It seemed the inhabitants of this town were certainly the victims in this case. She decided, before he even asked her assistance, that she would do the most she could to help. Salene had always dreamed of a glorious end in battle, and if she were to die for a good cause, then that would be even better. His smile, despite the bad state of his teeth, seemed to Salene to portray that she was a ray of hope for the people here, and that, on top of everything else, was convincing enough.

"Yes, I can help you..." she stated at long last, her brow furrowing in thought. "I'll do whatever it takes, if it'll ease the burden on the hearts of those who dwell here. All I ask is enough supplies to find this beast leader, and I'll be on my way..."

[Sen]

(so bad...at least i tried)
A young girl walked in to the town not surprised of what it looked like she didn't feel right being in a place knowing that people here had lost people they cared for and her being here was a reminder she moved her short brown hair out of here Hazel eyes and walked along in till she found a bar and when she walked in she saw one of the most depressing places in the world she sat down at the bar and looked at the bar tender.

she saw the man and walked over.
she listened to the man talk and saw him smile.
"yes i will help you but i am in need of equipment if you could help me with that i will help you and the town with no hesitation."she said as she smiled back to the man.

[Adrienne]

Adrienne was a small girl standing 5'31/2". She was wearing her squire's uniform as she walked into the town. She felt sad for all the people having to suffer. So as the man told her what was going on she listened intently. When he asked her to help and he smiled she didn't flinch she just she smiled and said "If you give me some supplies and equipment I will be glad to help your town."

[Devlin "Red" Shanks]

Ooc: alright, here ye are!

Devlin Shanks was not a woman to be trifled with. If her looks alone did not convince you, the large hammer hanging at her belt did. Not that Devlin was not good-looking, not by any means. The woman was tall with a slender but well-muscled body. Her face held almost delicate features, but with a stubborn mouth. That mouth was quick to grin, though, and her warm brown eyes often twinkled with mirth. Her hair had to be her best feature. Inherited from her father and lightened by many days in the sun, her straight hair was somewhere between a coppery orange and bright red. Her hair was swept out of her face by a dark piece of cloth tied about her head. She was dressed for rough terrain in a white shirt with a large collar, and well-made khaki slacks tucked into calf-length black leather boots. A long black vest trimmed with red and gold as well as an orange and red checkered scarf tied about her waist finished the ensemble. A long cloak kept her warm, and the weather out.

Shanks walked the streets with a confident swagger, also inherited from her father. There was little she'd received from her mother, save her heritage. Despite her confident step, though, Shanks's eyes darkened with both sadness and anger as she saw the state of the town. She entered the tavern and looked about. A few people turned to look at her, but soon returned to their drinks. The bartender sent her a wary glance, but coming to the decision that she was no worse than the rest of the patrons inside, he soon returned to his task at hand. An old man stood and gestured for her to return with him to his table. Shanks mentally shrugged and followed the man. She pulled out a chair and turned it so she sat on it backwards. She laid her arms on the back of the chair and listened to what the man had to say. When he finished he gave hear a grin, showing teeth in a less than poor state. Shanks ignored it though, she'd seen worse on her days at sea. It was sad, really, the state pirates kept their teeth in. Perhaps, though, it lent aid to their image.

Shanks though for a minute before returning his grin and replying.
"Well, matey, I don't why I shouldn't be able to help ye," she said, falling easily into the pirate jargon she'd pickd up so easily.
"I don't know what I could do, being a simple blacksmith, but I can put some heft into this hammer, so I be willing to give it a shot. Just point me in the right direction."

[Lorenzo De'Eledain]

OOC: For the record, I don't want a higher position. I'm quite happy being what I am, and you were too kind to make me a staff member, but here goes nothing.

Lorenzo had been highly unnerved by the tension of the town. His uncle had once told him of the way humans were - gloom and depression, though felt by the elves, were not prominent. Apparently the humans felt it far more than they did. Having no weaponry on him whatsoever, and watching the humans around him fully armed had bothered him. He felt that something was wrong - and he wanted to find a way to protect them. And now he knew what was wrong. Beasts. Infernal creatures. Perhaps the blasted Drow were with them too. At least it wasn't the foolish ways of humans, challenging each other, that his uncle had once told him of. He had to hold back a smile as the barkeeper told him of his accomplishments. He had never found himself in high esteem...but apparently he was worthy of more than he figured at first.

Yet what was he to do? His mission was given to him. Stop monsters. Yet what was he to do, when his trusted sword and buckler were gone and he was left with nothing but his elven armour and the gol that he wore on his back? But then it occured to him. The one thing that could perhaps lead him to victory. Yet could he lead war with such a tiny thing? Yet...the barkeeper wouldn't ask him such a foolish question if he wasn't prepared, was he? Perhaps he was just looking for skill...provide the weapon, provide what was needed...and then his skill would be more than enough to take out this beast leader. Deciding that was the idea, he nodded his head. "Best interests indeed. I'm not quite sure what you mean by that..." and he didn't, "...but I'm willing to fight."

The determination in him rose as he stood up from his seat and stared down at him. "This town seems to be suffering with loss and depression. You have told me why. The Beasts - minions of the Drow - I will stop them. It is in my nature..." He went calm for a moment, sitting back down in his chair, "All I ask is weaponry. I came to this town merely for a stop over on my long journey around the world...give me what I need and I'll give you freedom."

[Cirion Derufin]

ooc: This sounds intriguing.

bic: The aging knight rode through the streets of the town, trying not to disturb the villagers' way of life, however that may prove difficult since his armor clinked together whenever he moved. His gray eyes probed the silent streets, searching for the happiness of town life. His black hair was slightly damp from having his helmet on and his leather coif had done little to stop the flow of sweat. His slightly muscular body ached from being in the saddle for two days; he was ready for a rest. His sword swayed in its sheath, his lance was held in his right arm, and his battered shield hung on his left arm. As he continued to ride on, an elderly woman stood rooted in his path and screamed at him with a maniacal voice, pleading for him to give her news about her son. Dismounting from his steed, Cirion Derufin knelt next to the old woman so that he could look her eye to eye. Gently, he put his armored hand on her shoulder; saying in a calming voice, "I can't tell you where your son is, but I do know where he shall always be. He will always be with you here." With his last sentence, Cirion pointed to the woman's heart and remounted his horse. He didn't look back to see whether or not he was successful, but instead the old lady came to him and handed him a radish. Cirion took her token and wore it with honor as he rode further down the road.

As he rode on, Cirion noticed that there was no sounds of bartering or cheerful greetings at all in the marketplace or in any art of this town. He heard not the delicate laughter of children in the air; only the void that had been left behind. He saw that everyone who walked the streets wore grim expressions on their face and carried manner of weapons; this town was at war, but with what?

Cirion dismounted his horse and tied the reins to a pole; he silently spoke words of kindness to the horse and calmed it. His armor clinked as Cirion walked into the local tavern; several of the occupants gave him strange looks, not because what he was wearing but because of the radish that was dangling from his armor. Slowly, Cirion took a seat at an unoccupied table, and the townsfolk resumed their previous business.

However, the scraping of a stool caught his attention and he slowly cast his glance on the person who had stood. A tall, gaunt man began to walk over to him and despite his horrible looks and rotting teeth, there was something about that man that told Cirion to respect and honor this him. Perhaps it was how he walked, or maybe it was the remnants of noble bearing but it mattered not at this point. As the man motioned for him to follow, Cirion left his seat and walked with the man over to his table, and lifted up his visor so that the man could see his face; he parshaly did this beacause his graying beard was starting to itch from the heat. He listened to the lord's proposition, thinking that this town was now suffering what many others had suffered at the hand of lawless beasts. So much for a rest, thought Cirion. But what was rest compared to defending the weak? Cirion leaned forward, close enough so that only the lord could hear what he had to say. "I don't know what services I can offer, but I shall try none the less. While I am gone, try to organize those who can bear arms and form defenses, just in case. If I return, I don't want anything of yours, for you have already lost much. If I fall, then defend your city for as long as you can but remember this...hope springs eternal. There will be others who will help you in your desperation, so take heart in knowing this."

[Jasper]

Jasper cringed inwardly at the state of the man's teeth, but thought it best not to mention anything about the man's general lack of hygiene. This was a place in a dark time, after all, and the state of one's mouth was probably not the general focus of anyone here. The last words that the man spoke caught Jasper's interest, though she knew better than to show it. Had her reputation preceded herself? Couldn't be possible. She knew that her outward disguise would keep anyone from guessing who she truly was. After all, dress like a man, speak like a man, act like a man, and to most people who didn't take much notice, you were a man. Jasper had a talent to pitch her voice to any level and she used it now.

"To my best interest, you say? I must ask, what could you have that would be of any interest to someone like me?" Jaspers eyes were cold, and her voice pitched low and dangerous as she spoke. Her hand flexed, ready to reach for the handy throwing dagger she carried in her right boot. It may not be much, but she knew how to use what she had to the best of her ability. She had to, or else she wouldn't stay alive.

"I must ask, why should any of this be of any matter to me? I am merely passing through, perhaps to look up an old friend. Other than that, why should I concern myself with your trifles?" she asked, leaning forward, her dagger now in her hand resting on the table. She glanced significantly down at the metal weapon in her hand, knowing full well that his eyes would follow. She stayed silent however, and watched the man to judge how he would respond.

[Patty]

Blue eyes, peering from beyond dark lashes, glanced upon the dirty streets, seeing all and seeing nothing. The peoples seemed absolutely in a wretched state, passing by with unspeakable grief. “How sad,” the newcomer thought inexpressively, his elven brows contracting slightly by the onslaught of such misery. The reeking of filth, from yesteryear still hung about, yet the man seemed to be oblivious to the putrid smell, though his aristocratic nose seemed acutely sensitive to all that could go on in the world.

Rowan Prestale, in travel worn cloaks, had arrived in the little town.

Mad, crazy, dangerous- he had been called all of those names before, but heck, how unhinged could he be if he, single handedly, dared seek out such forbidden knowledge? It was laughable, really, how ignorant of the facts the fools could be, coming up with a pre-made opinion of himself before he had even set foot in the town. The old woman, seeking news about her son; she was the crazy one. To not be able to accept death was a sad existence indeed.

Death was the final certainty, which not even magic could deter.

Not yet, at least.

The man turned back towards the bartender, lips slightly tightened over his own perfect teeth, one thin, elven eyebrow raised. “Do you honestly believe that I am able to do such? Power isn’t just a toy. One must think of the consequences.” He paused, hoping his previous message had sunken in, then continued, clearly in thought. “If someone can provide me with more details, then perhaps I will have a better idea of the risks involved, as well as the potential gains, and take this proposal into clearer consideration.”

Why would anyone believe that he, Rowan Prestale, would risk his own life for that of others? His history had noble acts, yes, yet also handsome rewards. It was utterly insane to expect so much of a man, especially such self sacrifice to save others. What about the countless unnamed peasants who resided everywhere? Their lives surely needed saving, yet there was no possible way to reach out to all of the suffering. Only a crazed idealist would try to play hero and save them all.

And Rowan Prestale was not fool.

[Aura]

Aura slid down the hood of her dark blue cloak and gazed intently at the man with her deep green eyes. Sheneeded to move on she had to find her teacher's killer but she had been taught that it was unwise to refuse help when asked. She slid her cloak aside reveailing a small dark green tunic with deep brown leggings and knee high brown leather boots. A simple wooden boa rested on her back it was her weapon of chosie. Normally she hated fightingt but she did make exceptions. "I will accept your offer old man." her voice was soft and slivery. Maybe this beast leader knew of the murders that killed her teacher she would get anwsers before she delt with these beaset leder.