Ely edit 27 nov 2021:
1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.
Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: o
Total: 3 qps, trolloc RP, always interesting!
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Strangler sat against the well in the very center, his back pressed firmly against it. As calm as he seemed he never let the heels of his gnarled feet drop to the ground, he was ready to spring whether to run or attack. The great center of the ruined keep was almost full to capacity. Trollocs snarled and snapped at one another while others cowered and huddled in small groups. Strangler wasn't bigger, stronger, or faster than those around him. But he was observant. Which in itself was rare for a trolloc. Especially one so low of stock as he was. The young trolloc shivered excitedly, today was going to be a good day. The Chosen were coming.
A Well Guard came towards him and snarled, poking towards him with a dagger. Strangler sighed and moved away from the well, choosing to squat nearby instead. The Well Guard nodded, seemingly satisfied, and perched upon the well like a large bird. The Guard stilled and stopped moving, gazing off into space. Strangler stood at the sound of hooves slapping down on the ruined stone of the square. He began to wander the square as The Chosen took up positions around it's perimeter.
Jaster stood to one side instructing a group of beasts in his idea of the art of war. "You chase, you do not stop. We run them down with overwhelming force!" He shouted, his face twisting in seemingly impossible ways, as if to make up for his lack of eyes. He chopped his hands down in a knife like fashion after every word. A tyrant if there ever was one, but a legend in his own right. Zangief stood by gazing out over the hoard, nodding as Jaster spoke. He seemed bored, but he had a job to do. Another legend.
Rig sat his mount holding his hand out to the hoard before him, listening to Jaster and Zangief speak. He cocked his head to the side and shook it firmly. "Yeah don't do any of that, those guys are..." But a crash interrupted him as Fiddler leapt from his mount and slammed himself into a nearby column. He drew his sword with a roar and with a fury few have seen before or since began to hack at the stone column, screaming obscenities after each blow. Anansi stepped off his mount and yelled, "Is this the fuckin guy!?" He too charged the column and delivered a powerful punch to its center, barely managing to leap back and avoid one of Fiddler's mighty blows. Rig sighed, but then smiled, weakly. "Guys..." There was something else in his eyeless face, something not quite discernible. Sadness? Anansi leapt back, huffing quietly, and braced himself against a nearby wall. "You know, if we really break down what we're doing..." He began, but was quickly silenced as Fiddler stopped and glared at him. "Yeah you're right," the fade said, before once again diving into the fray.
Not far away Erulak sat his stallion cheering on the display. "Yeah get him!" He laughed. "We'll find him wherever he goes! He won't escape! I heard he insulted the..." But his words were drowned out by a great crash across the other side of the square. Another strange one, legendary in his own way, but strange all the same. Maybe that's just how the Chosen ones are. Strangler turned and began to head towards the commotion.
Razhak sat upon a stool that looked as if it were a royals footstool. It was red leather, slashed with white fabric in the center. "This here?" He asked the surrounding trollocs who asked no questions and looked frustrated. "This here is what the puke Kings sit on. Yeah, saw it once. Took this one from the King of Glancor." The trollocs applauded miserably. "BRING THE NEXT ONE!" The old fade screamed. "PUSH THEM! RAZPOINT! RAZPOINT!" He screamed once more as a group of trollocs emptied wooden boxes filled with tiny black ants onto the ground before him. "HIT!" And at his word the trollocs lifted pieces of glass above their heads and tried to focus the rays of the sun towards their prey. "Yes, yes good. Hold them higher." He whispered. The ground glowed before him with sunlight and the tiny helpless things popped, after a time, causing him to roar with laughter. Bryg clapped enthusiastically nearby. "Looks a bit dangerous, I'm going to Thakandar, until this settles down." He proclaimed, looking at the fire fearfully, he rode away as quickly as his mount would carry him. Strangler looked disturbed, he quietly stalked away shaking his head.
Dukug ran in circles with a group of trollocs whooping and laughing. Strangler smiled as he approached, but the smile quickly fell from his face. Something strange was happening here. Something he couldn't quite understand. Dukug stopped and raised his hand, the group of trollocs also stopped and raised their hands. He clapped twice, they clapped twice. He once again began to run in dizzying circles, faster, and faster, and faster, before skidding to a stop breathlessly. One of the trollocs fell to his knees, and howled in pain as they made contact with the cold ruined stone. Dukug calmly walked over and picked up the trolloc, he held it softly against his chest and cooed to it. He knelt down and put the trolloc on his back, holding it high and tight, carrying it. Hooting once more he again began to run around in strange circles, and the others followed. Strangler walked away slightly amused.
Kryyg and Jestin stood nose to nose away from the rest of the hoard and fades. It wasn't because they weren't popular, Strangler observed, it was just that all the trollocs who had come to listen were lying dead around them. The two Chosen ones slapped pitifully at one another. Jestin reached up to pull Kryyg's hair. "I'm telling you! Trollocs have a stone in their guts that cures all illnesses!" Jestin screamed. Kryyg ripped his head away, leaving Jestin holding a handful of hair and poked his husband in the eye. "You don't even know how to science Jestin!" The fade roared. Jestin snarled and threw a massive fireball in his direction, slaying another group of trollocs. Strangler decided to avoid them entirely.
Rark stood on the edge of the huge ruined square. He didn't seem interested in engaging with the rest. Looking around he cocked his head from side to side, cracking his neck. The fade walked quietly and sat nonchalantly at a nearby broken bench left over from ages past, and began to cut at a piece of wood with a knife produced from his belt. He hummed quietly to himself, drowning out the world.
Scrat entered the square to Rark's right and stopped, turning his head in Rark's direction, he nodded. The younger fades knife stopped and he turned his body completely to return the greeting. Scrat surveyed the square for only a moment before sawing his stallions head roughly to the side towards the city entrance. He shook his head and spat upon the ruined stones of the square. Looking towards a fist of trollocs he hissed, "come," and began riding out into the blight, not stopping to see if they followed.
Strangler fell in behind the trollocs following behind Scrat without hesitation. He paused briefly before leaving the square and looked back at all behind him.
Darkness seemed to swirl and move around the square and its edges. Always at the corner of the eye. Always barely perceptible. It scared Strangler. He knew that out there were the older of the Chosen ones. From times gone by. Sometimes he thought he could make them out, sitting tall upon mounts, their backs straight. They never came into the light. Whether because they could not or simply wished not too, Strangler wasn't sure. He didn't want to understand either.
(I like to think I'm friends with most of these individuals. This is simple parody and most of it is obviously highly exaggerated. I wanted to see if I could put together pieces of their in game personalities using descriptive storytelling. I hope you enjoyed.)
Wandering Musings ---&RPaward
Re: Wandering Musings
This was really fun. Actual laughs at some parts.