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Avatar: The Last Airbender RPG

420 years after the fall of Ozai, decades of tranquility have brought about an era where peace is no longer only a mere philosophical abstraction. However beyond the grasp of the Four Nations, a long lost legacy resurfaces.
 
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RPG Info

Years Since Ozai's Fall
420 Years
Current Year
It is currently the year: 420 AO (After Ozai)

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Kaniehtí:io "Ziio" Aarushi

Royalty
Earth King Lu Meleng
Emperor Nobunaga Ezofuji
Tekonwenaharake Ojitsah, Waneek of the North and South
Roland Hirahara, King of the Four Winds
Light King Sallan Wynphyra V
Dark Lord Pan Daiyu

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PineApocalypse
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PostSubject: Keep Drifting (open)   Keep Drifting (open) I_icon_minitimeWed Aug 07, 2013 3:38 pm

Zesh Suasen took a look down at the path he'd have to take to get down to the river far below and grimaced in anticipated discomfort. The sun was beating hard on his bald head, and his missing leg was throbbing in pain from a long trek. He had to get to that river though, there was no game on this plateau, no water either, and he'd run out of both. The last settlement he'd passed through had been four days ago and usually he'd already be at the next one, but events out of his control had slowed him down considerably. Additionally he'd decided to stray into an area he'd not previously explored and had found himself quite lost, until he found the river that is. But now he had to reach it before he could follow it. As far as he was aware he was in the extreme south-eastern portion of the Earth Kingdom.

 "I'm getting too old for this crap," he muttered into his beard, but he knew very well that he would never allow himself to stop his self-imposed duty of helping others and gathering knowledge. He'd go insane if he did.

 "Well downwards and forwards," he sighed resignedly. Zesh limped up to the steep, tortuous path leading down the cliff. Despite his fatigue, the blistering heat and his missing leg his strides were long and confident, allowing him to walk just as fast as a whole person would. The wooden walking staff made a loud knock every time it hit the rocky ground. His footing wasn't as certain as that of less crippled people though, and the treacherously steep path was slowing him down considerably. It was taking all his concentration not to slip, fall and break his neck, so much so that he wouldn't even have noticed a sabre-tooth moose lion charging at him.

 Soon enough he realised with some frustration that at this pace he'd never make it to the river before nightfall. He pushed himself harder, hoping to quicken his pace, but then the inevitable happened. His staff hit a clump of loose rocks, lost its purchase on the ground, his strong grasp on the wood led him astray along with the staff, and the old man hit the ground hard, and went rolling down in an avalanche of dust and gravel, until he rolled to a section of the path that flattened out.

 Coughing due to the dust, bleeding from various small scrapes and cuts, and feeling like a trampled dog, he struggled up, leaning heavily against the rock wall to his left. He looked down at the path again, and noticed he was now considerably closer to the bottom, and still alive to boot.

 "Well this is an unforeseen, painful and uncomfortable turn of events," he muttered to himself, "but it isn't entirely bad," with a final cough and a wince he straightened up and carried on his not-so-merry way.

 When he finally reached the river night was starting to fall. He hurriedly gathered some relatively dry looking wood, started a fire and then began setting up various traps. His acute knowledge of the trapper profession allowed him to locate tracks and place his various traps where animals were most likely to wander. With any luck he'd have caught something by morning, which would provide a fine breakfast.

 When he returned to the fire he unpacked his fishing rod and tossed it into the stream. A few minutes of sunlight were remaining, and he really didn't want to have to go to bed with an empty belly, but the likelihood of him doing so was growing greater and greater with ever passing second. As the hook bobbed up and down in the water he pulled the most recent of his journals from its pouch at his waist and began reviewing the notes contained therein.


Last edited by PineApocalypse on Thu Aug 08, 2013 4:55 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Keep Drifting (open)   Keep Drifting (open) I_icon_minitimeWed Aug 07, 2013 4:34 pm

| Darin "Ba'sill" |

Keep Drifting (open) Basil_10




    Darin pried an eye open. A green canopy hovered over him. Dappled, fading sunlight wedged itself through the leaves. The twenty-two year old was annoyed, if not irrevocably displeased. This was the third time today something woke him up, as if sleeping high in a tree wasn't already uncomfortable enough. But he didn't have much of a choice; he couldn't afford to get too cozy. He had to remain alert.

    Darin -- or Ba'sill to some -- dropped out of the tree. He was met with a short expanse of undergrowth, leading out to a very sloped path. A man, middle-aged at best, was climbing unsteadily to his feet. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he had fallen down the slope, and that was crippled long before the prosthetic, wooden leg became visible. Darin raised a brow. His admiration increased when the man simply got to his feet, bedraggled but unharmed, and continued on his way.

    Without much incentive, Darin decided to follow him. Clearly it was the man's nasty fall that had woken him up in the first place. Then, out of what Darin supposed was need or idiocy, he realized that the man seemed to be staggering toward the river. If he fell in there, well, Darin sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to pull his waterlogged body back out come midmorning.

    Darin stayed carefully out of sight. He realized that, after another hour of patiently watching and hiding, he had underestimated the man. The cripple reached the river with no further incident, and even set about putting out traps. Darin sat cross-legged behind some shrubbery, waiting for him to come back. He was regretfully wide-awake and very, very bored. When the man returned and sat by the river, he sent out a lure, and Darin's hope for even a slightly eventful evening all but shattered. Fishing took time. A lot of time. But he was hungry.

    Darin stood and went over to the river. He tried his damnedest to approach in a away that wouldn't startle the man, even though he wasn't sure why he cared in the first place.

    "Hey," he called out. "You got a pretty good setup going on. Mind if I camped here for the night?" After some thought, he gestured to the knapsack he carried slung across his shoulder. "I'll pay ya'."

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PineApocalypse
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PostSubject: Re: Keep Drifting (open)   Keep Drifting (open) I_icon_minitimeWed Aug 07, 2013 6:05 pm

"Hey. You got a pretty good set up going on. Mind if I camped here for the night?" Zesh jumped up in surprise, his journal flying out of his hands and falling to the ground. A short surprised yelp escaped his mouth before he could stop it. The leather-bound book in his hands went flying and crashed to the ground with a soft thud. The man himself lost his balance on the fallen log he'd decided would be his seat for the night and fell flat on his backside (for the second time today he noticed somewhat frustrated).

 The calmer and more analytical part of Zesh's brain registered that the voice was too smooth to belong to anyone far past puberty, and the voice's tone didn't seem to indicate any harmful intent. The old man turned to look at the newcomer, taking in the young man in front of him with a single, short but intense gaze.

 "You nearly scared the life out of me boy," Zesh sighed, half in relief at not being attacked, half in exasperation. "And you can certainly share my fire. I'm afraid I don't have any food to share, though I remain hopeful that that particular problem will solve itself before long," he gestured at the fishing rod.

"You're welcome to drink form the river. I have no right to stop you from taking a drink from it. Even if I were inclined to stop you I reckon you could easily take what you desired by force," he added with a small smile, throwing another analytical glance at the young man.

"Nice hair," he added with only the slightest note of sarcasm. "You should cherish it while you have it Before long you'll be as poor in the hair department as I am," he added patting his bald skull, booming in laughter as he did.

 Once he'd calmed down he pointed at another fallen log  close to the fire, inviting the young man to sit.

 "I am Zesh Suasen, a travelling man. Whose company do I have the pleasure to be in?" as he spoke the old man, still lying on the gorund, extended a hand in greeting.
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PostSubject: Re: Keep Drifting (open)   Keep Drifting (open) I_icon_minitimeThu Aug 08, 2013 5:39 pm

It had been a while now of constant travelling and it's consuming ways had its effect, specifically on Korlakk's feet. From the searing pain he dreaded to imagine what his feet looked like envisioning bulbous blisters littering the surface of his sore skin. Anticipating the worst he slipped of his simple rugged shoes only to see one or two small lumps.

'Of course,' he said aloud in his secluded humiliation. 'I suppose it is fixable though,'

Noticing the gushing river next to him he effortlessly began drawing streams of water whilst gently entwining them around his hands. When he saw that it was a sizeable amount he nodded slightly and began applying it to his tender feet, caressing and rubbing smoothly, it wasn't anything advanced but was good enough to speed up the healing process for the odd cut and bruise. Anyway it felt soothing and relaxing so he really couldn't complain as this was what he needed after the countless hours he spent aimlessly wandering.

Nearly finishing up, a sudden yelp shocked through his system causing him to drop his water in surprise. In alarm he bolted round with a precise strike of water hoping to wound (or at least hit) whatever it is that shook him. It was nothing. A small branch fall to the ground with a light tap from where it had been severed. Korlakk sighed in relief thankful it wasn't bandits or robbers, but as he turned to tend back to his wounds he heard slight murmuring coming from behind him. From the way the voices sounded he recognised speech but again wasn't sure whether this was the kind that would have his tongue or not. He quietly peaked to roughly visualise what was going on, spotting 1, no 2 people. One looking elderly and the other looking fairly young. If these were bandits then they had no clue but still it would be unwise to completely ignore them, if they were armed and trained then he should be able to take them worst case scenario resort to 'it' despite it's high risks.

Using the bandits proximity to the river to his advantage, he charged out roughly from 'behind 'them drawing a large constant stream and holding it positioned to his side in case of hostility.

'I'm not surprised, thieves like you don't give up, do you!'
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PostSubject: Re: Keep Drifting (open)   Keep Drifting (open) I_icon_minitimeSun Aug 11, 2013 1:05 am

| Darin "Ba'sill" |

Keep Drifting (open) Basil_10




    Darin surprised himself by bowing briefly in dual respect and thanks. Years ago, he might have robbed the man and been done with it. His encounter and following adventures with Roman had actually taught him consideration, if not true kindness.

    "Nice hair," came the man's sarcastic rumble. Darin made a noncommittal sound, stealing a glance at his long, dark braid. "You should cherish it while you have it. Before long you'll be as poor in the hair department as I am."

    The younger man sat beside the older, boredly gazing out over the river. After a minute, he shrugged. "I wouldn't miss it," he deadpanned. "It's a pain-in-the-ass to braid." He would have taken a knife to it long ago, but his mother had never cut it, and neither did Claudia, his adoptive mother, so he was accustomed to its length and weight. He chose not to elaborate; the man was speaking again.

    "I am Zesh Suasen, a travelling man. Whose company do I have the pleasure to be in?"

    "Darin," said the young man. "No last name." Travelling man? He thought the man was at least a veteran, some unfortunate, somehow senile man lost in the middle of the Earth Kingdom wilderness. The idea that there was cripple hobbling around purposefully in the wild on a regular basis made him wonder what the hell made a man wander along like that.

    'I'm not surprised, thieves like you don't give up, do you!'

    The hell?

    He didn't have much time to think. Not a heartbeat later, Darin felt the unmistakable sensation of an incoming presence. His shoulder twitched, and he turned just in time to catch a figure leaping at them. A large wave of water accompanied his advance. Ba'sill was sure he would injure the both of them if he didn't haul ass soon. The ex-assassin was on his feet in an instant, kicking up a fairly thick wall of closely-packed sand and sidestepping out in front of the crippled man.

    He planted his feet firmly in the damp sand and pushed. The wall of sand charged forward, fully intending to negate the other man's attack and hopefully injure him some.


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PostSubject: Re: Keep Drifting (open)   Keep Drifting (open) I_icon_minitimeSun Aug 11, 2013 1:47 am

Zesh had decided he liked this kid, no matter what his intentions were, and was about to continue the small talk, hoping to lead that into some more interesting and less pointless conversation, but he was interrupted by some lunatic screaming at what Zesh assumed was the top of his lungs:

 "I'm not surprised, thieves like you don't give up, do you!"

 "What in the name of..." was all Zesh managed to get out before his mind analysed the situation sufficiently to conclude that trouble was probably about to start. However unfortunately unlike Darin, Zesh didn't exactly possess the vigour of youth nor combat skills, and he was still on  the ground.

 The old man's brain came up with a list of possible actions he could perform at that moment in a split second, and rather dishearteningly that list was pretty meagre. It mainly consisted of either a): adopting the foetal position b): trying to roll out of the way or c): praying for safekeeping.

 Now Zesh never had been the praying type, and option a really came down to 'doing nothing' and the old man wasn't into that either. So he did the only thing an old, non-bending geezer could do when faced with unexpected trouble while in an unfavourable position. He rolled out of the way, grabbing his staff. The gentle slope of the bank eased this action considerably, and he managed to roll several feet away without too much effort.

 By that time Zesh could see Darin was preparing to defend himself (or was the kid intending to protect both himself and the old man? Zesh decided he had bigger seals to fry right now and discarded the question) with sand bending. The old healer had also managed to take a closer look at the screaming assailant, surprised to see how young he was (he momentarily wondered if he'd ever been taught any manners but once again, bigger seals to fry). What were so many damn kids doing running around, ruining his perfectly deserved peace anyway? Didn't they have better things to do? Like school? Or chores?
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PostSubject: Re: Keep Drifting (open)   Keep Drifting (open) I_icon_minitimeSun Aug 11, 2013 6:55 pm

Oblivious to the sudden counter attack Korlakk's lack of guard caused him to be thrust backward into the dusty ground. Spluttering from stray granules of sand, he got up quickly brushing himself clean not before turning sharply toward his opponent.

'Strange', he said contently to himself, 'I remember no sand benders among them, maybe these are new recruits or something?'

Snapping out of his dream-like trance he immediately began to focus on the task at hand, he was apart of this now, no backing out. Looking clearly past his (hopefully) temporary adversary he noticed the elderly man make a fluid roll for something, was it a sword, pole axe? Whatever it was Korlakk didn't want to find out. Feeling somewhat merciful because of the man's age and figure Korlakk fluently using as little hand movement if any launched a pathetically weak wave towards him, nothing too damaging just enough to hopefully knock the unknown weapon out his hands.

Then focussing quickly on the far more dangerous threat he began drawing large torrents from the rush beside him concentrating it into a large aquatic dome, the fluid motions used were smooth, elegant and graceful of course with a sudden snap of his palms the bulbous dome shaped instantaneously into four spear-like whips heading furiously towards the sand-benders legs and feet. Korlakk knew if he would control his opponent he'd win the duel before it even properly started. He grinned at the mere thought.
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