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  1. ILO trailed after the group, rather inattentively. They cared little for the ramblings and advice of the people all around them, and, instead, were busy doing something totally necessary. Muttering under their breath, chanting, perhaps. It sounded like a prayer. Regardless, ILO kept their eyes keenly aware. Slowly they moved towards the smoke, breathing in deep, and letting the terrible scent fill their nose and mouth and lungs. They did not speak, and did not draw attention to the direction of this wretched scent, letting the others do so. Quiet, silent, nearly invisible, they simply trailed after.
  2. ILO was not particularly prepared for the swinging of the blade, but their reaction was quick. They rose their metal hand up, and went to 'catch' it. This was clearly a terrible idea, as the blade bit into the steel and seemed to carve a bit of a line into it. The metal dented, and the entity slid off of the person, gliding gracefully until they rose up, staring. Judgmentally. Silently. They holstered their pistol, and said nothing more.
  3. As Vince reached down, ILO reacted with unnerving speed. They went to grab at the arm that was attempting to touch their weapon, and yank them to the ground with it, while twirling around to then push them onto the ground if they were successful. If, after this grim task was done, they were still able, they would draw their pistol, a grotesquely beautiful clockwork mechanism of wrought brass and cold steel, oddly complex and go to plant it on Vince's head. "I am a bearer of a Voice of Brass and Fire, and a holder of a three-pronged name!" They threatened, bluntly. As the others approached, Ist blinked and turned their gaze to the one that spoke. They paused, nodding their head, unable to really bow. "Greetings. I am Ist-Larros-Ollos, designated ILO. I wish to assist these individuals in their quest. Please disregard my current actions, this one had made an unwise movement."
  4. Ist-Larros-Ollos stared at Vince. Indeed, the creature was quite short, with its clockwork hand and gleaming eyes. It seemed a bit flustered at being approached in such a brazen manner. Almost as a nervous tick, Ist went to adjust the mask pulled over their nose and mouth, pulling it up to nearly cover their eyes. "I am Ist-Larros-Ollos, designated ILO, student of Tephir-Hallo-Ansta-Maph-Il, designated THAMI." They bowed, deeply, and Vince would likely have spied their only weapon. A strange pistol, ticking and clicking like their arm, hidden amongst their many cloths and layers. Regaining their neutral, measured composure, ILO looked to the duo. Without a single bit of hesitation, they approached. "I will assist you on this endeavour." They said, confident. "It is well-known these woods are full of terrible, monstrous beings, that would tear me limb from limb and leave my entrails scattered across the ground, my blood curdling. I see no better place to head." It became evident that Ist was likely not a very social type, but they were sincere, not a hint of a lie in their breath.
  5. If the duo wanted to find assistance, then there was one who would offer it presumptuously. A nosy, short, and intruding entity had already trailed them. They weren't particularly good at this whole 'stealth' thing, poor Ist-Larros-Ollos, due to the fact their hand ticked as it moved, mechanisms and gears clicking together and showing its unliving nature. That didn't stop the monk from trying to sneak, and likely getting away from it by being far enough away and from the conversation overtaking them, but that doesn't matter. ILO paused, placing their hand into their cloak, their physical hand wrapping around their pistol, and their brass hand going to pull their cloak over it, concealing it. It always paid off to be a little worried when speaking with strange creatures who may, or may not, wish to flay individuals alive. The monk breathed in, before going to approach from their shadowy hiding place. They would step over, just into sight. What stood before them was a small person, in a large-brimmed hat, with brown clothing that covered their body in all places. They wore a brown scarf that looked like it was made from cloth merely cut into a long strip and wrapped around their face to their nose, and then left to dangle. The most striking feature of this creature was, though, their clockwork hand. A mechanism, some manner of machine, replacing their hand of flesh with wrought steel and cold brass. "Greetings!" Ist began. "I am Ist-Larros-Ollos and I followed you out as you headed towards this dangerous place. I now hear that you wish to find assistance. It is my mission to help those in need, and I would like to help you." Ist bowed, deeply, and looked back, their eyes gleaming, wide with anticipation.
  6. Name: Ist-Larros-Ollos, ILOGender: UnknownAge: UnknownPersonality: A friendly, affable fellow, that seems to be happy to help.Apperance: A terribly short creature that wears a wide-brimmed hat, and has a long strip of brown cloth that is wrapped around their face, covering everything except their eyes. Their eyes are a golden yellow, and the small bits of the skin that are visible between their hat and cowl is a cocoa brown colouration. They are wearing a long, dark brown robe, that has several patches sewn into it, and it is open, revealing a tightly bound leather vest and a holster with a strange, oddly made, pistol. On their left hand is a leather glove, and their right hand is a ticking clockwork mechanism. ILO wears long brown pants, and heavy leather boots.Bio: A strange being that appeared as if from nowhere, going about to help anyone that they could.
  7. ...but even in the mud of falsehoods lies a glint of golden truth. An old, withered soothsayer, or hag, or wise man may tell of this half-true tale. A little lamb, lost in the woods, cries out for help. Alone and cold, for days. Weeks. Longer, still. Avoided by the forest-dwellers, eking out an existence as it wanders, aimlessly. Nothing to save it from the ravenous monsters that should have long since claimed it, but yet it still wanders, alone, lost, protected by some force. It still cries out, for, for help, for the ones it lost, for someone to find them, for someone to find it. How strange. A little lamb, lost in the woods, says the storyteller. They seem to believe it, looking to whoever would listen, wherever they would be. Too weak, too fragile, to find the poor soul on their own. When the story is done, and when there are nearly no listeners left, all others abandoning the story, surely a half-truth, the storyteller says a single sentence. "Please. Find them. They've suffered for far too long." ---------- A note: This is a relatively simple roleplay, for me to get acclimatized to the forums and way things work, if I'm honest. For anyone interested in an odd mystery, in an odd story, join. I'd be happy. Any character is welcome, and I'm sure that I can weave some great tale for whoever would be interested in joining this, even if it'd only be one.
  8. I am a person, or more specifically, the person. Normally, I would forgo introductions, however I have a few questions I would hope are answered. Firstly, how does the gist of threads go? Are players, for want of a better word, taken down a story by the creator of a thread, presented with challenges characters must overcome, or is stuff more like a sandbox, with characters doing whatever? Perhaps, a bit of both? I would assume there would be threads for both. Secondly, JESUS, THAT'S A LOT OF BOARDS. I mean, agghhh. Normally I'd articulate my points better but that's a lot of boards. Am I allowed to just post in the Water Cooler for players interested in a story, then in whatever board the thread would be set? That's how it works, right? Thirdly, any banned characters/settings/stuff-to-do? Just so I don't get myself banned. Lastly, if I was to simply go make a thread, would I be shunned for being a filthy new poster? To whoever answers my asinine questions, thanks for the aid.
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