“ When this is used, the user is full of static electricity, which will discharge itself onto the next living thing that he or she touches, causing minor to moderate injury.”
“ A group of individuals* gather up and search for, 'The rod of Lordly Might.' Here's the catch, no just any individual is welcomed. There will be a meeting on sundown* in an old bar. As it is, a war is going on between the Eastern Front, and the Western Front. The bar/tavern is in the middle of both lands.
On the same night of the meeting, there's another meeting with the Red Rose (Eastern) and the Black rose (Western).
Once on the mission, there will be other individuals met and given information... there will not be an easy destiny, but nonetheless and adventure to remember.
***
I used INDIVIDUALS for the fact that you can be any species (just keep away from the elemental and supernatural creatures.). Here are some suggestions: Vampire/ress, Adhiel (Elf), Half-Adhiel (Half-Elf), Orc, Human, Half-Human...
Please do not be: Orc, Troll, Frost/Forest/Urban/Dessert Monsters, Giants, and Titans. Note that you can still be one, just preferably not one.
I used SUNDOWN for a realistic reason (Vamps, Giants, and others meet at night). You don't meet someone who works for the Eastern/Western Kings during the day. I expect some drunks, bar fights, and bloodshed in the story. Mild or no Language is acceptable (unless unexceptable by the MODS).”
“ Idea from the Aeneid. Could make an intriguing encounter when searching for firewood...'Quite near there happened to be a mound of earth, at the highest part of which were growing thickets of cornel and a dense cluster of spiky myrtle-stems. I went up there and tried to wrench the green growth from the ground to provide a leafy covering for our altar. There I was confronted by a horrible and astounding miracle. For from the first bush which I tried to break off...blood oozed in dark drops, fouling the earth with its spots...A piteous moan came from the base of the mound and I heard a human voice answering me: 'Why, Aeneas, must you rend a poor sufferer? I am buried here...for I am Polydorus. Here death overpowered me in a crop of piercing iron-pointed spears. And so a crop resembling javelins has grown over me...''”
