Kyngdom Survival Guide
Chatterbox: KYNGDOM™ RP Board
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Leaves crunch under my boots in a bizarre rhythm as I move. I wince at every noise, but continue, purposely stepping on every twig and branch that I can. The snapping only reminds me of the snapping of bones--a sound that I've so far avoided, even though I was on the battlefield.
This path--completely loud and oblivious-seeming--is the only way. But still... sacrificing stealth for strategy terrifies me. So many things do now. Sudden noises. Anyone talking at night--even if it's just a pair of hikers making their way through the woods, blissful to be under the protection of the Resistance. The slightest creak of a branch is enough to make me jump.
When the pair of soldiers dropped from the trees in front of me, landing perfectly with their weapons drawn (a pair of daggers that glittered dangerously in the light, and a sleek black pistol) and facing me. Even though I'd known this would happen, I still leapt back and tried my hardest to hide a gasp. Adrenaline coursed through my veins.
One of them, a young woman with a splash of freckles across her tanned cheeks, smiles at me, though she doesn't relax. She's perfectly prepared for a fight, yet has no visible hostility. I silently praise the Resistance's choice in soldiers.
"Wh-what's this all about?" I ask nervously, my voice betraying me and revealing it's usual stutter. But...maybe it's good. I am supposed to be a random bystander after all. "It's nothing, miss, just that you've passed into Resistance territory." She told me, her voice perfectly calm and casual.
Focus. Think of a normal person, oblivious to that around them. The Resistance and Catastrophe are nothing more than gossip to you, I remind myself. "Oh, so th-they're claiming land now, are th-they?" I ask. The boy next to her--younger, possibly just out of his teen years--shakes his head. "No. We're simply providing protection to the townsfolk. This area would be a good point for Catastrophe to capture, and innocent lives would be lost if he did." The boy explains. He loses focus and lowers his gun until the woman next to him prods him.
After a brief weapon search, I'm allowed past.
I never thought I'd be smuggling things into Resistance territory. The thought of this fills me with shame. But I need information. I need every shred of knowledge that I can get, even if I have to become a thief in the night to take it.
submitted by Icy, age 13..., The Forest
(March 2, 2018 - 3:33 pm)
(March 2, 2018 - 3:33 pm)
Ooh, sounds interesting!
(March 2, 2018 - 5:07 pm)
Top!
(March 3, 2018 - 7:57 am)
Icy! *tackle hugs* You're back! Well, I guess I knew that, I saw your new charrie sheet. But I wasn't sure if you'd actually be posting or just disappear again, like snow in the sun.
(March 3, 2018 - 7:06 pm)
Where are you? If you're in the north, Davina may come after the Ball ends.
Coco says vazz. Does that mean you listen to jazz music?
(March 5, 2018 - 6:09 pm)
(Switching to past tense; I'm more comfortable with it)
Papers drifted onto an ever-increasing pile. Some had been pamphlets, some had been drifting around this small town on the edge of the woods. Each of them held at least a trace of information.
The Oracle sat nearby on an old, slightly abused rocking chair, watching everything as usual. She seemed to enjoy silently observing; after living in an unchanging world for so long, she must feel a sort of wonder for being here.
I lifted a paper towards the light. It was describing something called the 'Ball of Stars'. I skimmed over it.
Murder at the Ball of Stars! The next paper declared. A corpse. A knife. A broken neck. I shoved the paper away from me and off of the old desk, but The Oracle plucked it from the air. "Theorists are beginning to rant about involvement, and rogue Anthros." She observed as her odd, misty eyes scanned the paper. I just sighed and closed my eyes. Kyngdom has seen enough death as it is. Why does this always happen? Even at events meant to be filled with joy...
The rest of the news is uninteresting, except for a segment on the Resistance.
I shoved the papers back into my pack. We had been in this abandoned house for too long. We need to keep moving. I moved around the room, picking up any papers that drifted off of the desk and returning them to my bag. My eyes darted about, looking for the off-white color of parchment among the ruin.
I, in my search, spotted a square of white amidst the mess, a corner of it sticking out of an old dresser that was somehow free of dust. I glanced over to the Oracle, but she just raised an eyebrow.
I carefully worked the drawer open and removed the item--a piece of white paper with a few words written on it in an upper-class script. Braz. Goo delivered.
(March 6, 2018 - 3:09 pm)