Random Weekly Roleplay - Week of 3/11/19

Lloenflys

Lloenflys

"Certainty is an illusion ..."
Senator
Cabinet
Honoured Citizen
Citizen
Continuing on my quest to expand the mandate of the Ministry of Culture into basically the entire realm of human activity, I decided to start a Weekly Roleplay thread. Moving forward, I'll kick off a new thread with a new scenario or "lead prompt" every Monday morning. This week I'm just a little late to the party! This idea came to me because of a recent exchange of messages in the "Last Person to Post Wins" thread between Winged Bear and myself that were really fun to write and to read - we basically used that thread for this purpose, and it reminded me that collaborative roleplays can be really funny, and really fun! I encourage anyone to participate, even if you haven't participated in this kind of writing before. It can be a great way to work on your creative writing skills :)

A few common sense rules:

(1) If you are about to write something rude or risque and you realize you wouldn't "go there" in a non-RP discussion, it's probably best to exclude it. Use your common sense.

(2) No personal attacks, harrassment, etc. This should go without saying but I'm going to reiterate that much like #1 above, don't use the RP context to behave in ways that otherwise would be unacceptable.

(3) Write about anything you want and take the story in whatever direction you want! That's what makes it fun :) It should connect to the overall story but be creative about where you TAKE that story!

(4) Have fun!!!!

The first prompt will be posted shortly :)
 
It was a rainy, gusty morning in the Arnhelm Capital District. Orion Lloenfife laid in bed and listened to the wind howling through the trees and the rain striking the glass. Arnhelm wasn't especially known for its big storms, but Orion's homeland of Lloenflys was renown for whipping up gigantic thunderstorms during all months of the year. The fearsome Thundersnows were often the most spectacular. Orion sighed - he missed those storms.

After dragging himself out of bed, Orion glanced at EBC Newswire to see if there was anything remarkable. At first he didn't notice it, but after reading a rather dull blurb about the cost of strawberry jam increasing due to a shortage resulting from a misunderstanding on a food service order that had resulted in an Ambassador receiving 9,387 strawberry sandwiches being delivered to his door. Who was at fault was still being worked out. As Orion re-loaded the front page again, however, he saw a small notice in the corner about an auction of interest to collectors being held at an antique shop in the Curio District. It was set to begin at 9:00 - 13 minutes from now. His eyes grew wide when he saw that listed in the items to be auctioned off was a series of flawless crystal statuettes of Europeia's former leaders. His mother would be enchanted by any of them, he simply had to see what they would sell for.

With that, he dashed out of the door. He made it no more than 3 steps into the street when he ran into something and fell to the ground hard. "Ouch," he said, as he looked up. When he recognized who he had run into, he frowned as he asked "What are you doing here?"
 
Tomoya looks down at the person. He then looks at himself. His shirt was wet with orange juice that he spilled when Orion bumped into him.

"Uh, I'm going somewhere. What are YOU doing here?"

He whips out a napkin and starts wiping himself while murmuring.
 
Orion could not believe that Tomoya, of all people, had knocked him over. "I live here. I was on my way to to an auction, if you must know, when you and your ... your ... orange juice got in the way!" As grumpy as Orion was, however, his attitude of "Lloneflysian Nice" ended up kicking in, and he felt a little bad that Tomoya had spilled the juice on himself. "Oh, hold on, your not getting it with the napkins." Orion ran inside and grabbed a wet cloth and some soap, and then returned to Tomoya. "Here, this might help."

Just then, out of nowhere, several cloves of garlic came flying at them from the somewhere in the crowd of people moving through the street. One of them struck Orion in the nose, and another hit Tomoya on the top of the head. Despite his best efforts, Orion couldn't tell where the garlic had come from. He was about to give up when he saw a glimpse of a another clove heading in his direction ... and this time he had seen who threw it! Thankfully, the target appeared to be Tomoya, not him ...
 
Orion stares down at Tomoya with something approaching, but not quite, concern. "Well I don't want him to suffocate," Orion says to himself as he removes the wet cloth. When he looks up again, he's lost sight of whoever it was that was throwing the garlic. He debates leaving Tomoya in the street, thinking "I didn't hit him with the garlic, how is this my problem?" but ultimately his training in the Lloenflysian Reformed Church came back to him and he remembered that all people were worthy of care. He sighed and called in to one of his roommates. Together, they hauled the bedraggled, unconscious Tomoya into the parlor. "I'd best get the smelling salts, I suppose," Orion thought to himself.
 
Orion kept a wide variety of smelling salts in the cabinet, because his roommates (all Lloenflysian functionaries who worked at the regional headquarters for Lloenflys in Europeia) were all prone to fainting at the slightest suggestion of blood, violence, or even "heavy debauchery." Lloenflysians can be remarkably sheltered at times. As Orion made it back to the unconscious Tomoya, a knock came at that door. He handed the salts off to his roommate and turned to open the door. What he saw froze his blood cold; a priest of Nethel, clearly from one of the offshoot branches that believed in carrying long pointy pikes with religious symbols at the top and wearing a smelly brown monk's habit, stood at his hearth. "All Praise to Nethel, my child. Do you have a pastry for a poor monk?"
 
Tomoya opens his eyes and notices he is in a strange room on the couch.

"W-where am I? Why do I smell like garlic?"

He sits up but his vision is blurry. He smacks his face a few times, and feels his glasses. He takes them off.

"Oh shoot, they cracked, damn it..."

He would whisper to himself; I wonder where Orion is, first I need to get out of this place.

Tomoya puts on his glasses and gets up, looking around for an exit.
 
In the realms of Nethelism it was common to name individuals with the reverse of the name of a Grand Saint, and indeed Opos proudly carried his name. A monk for now two years he had still a lot to learn, but had already started to master powers, or so he thought. For despite hours of work trying to make garlic appear out of thin air he could get nothing but celery. And once he got garlic the garlic would fly away.

In the olden days many millenia ago garlic was used by Nethelian martyrs to repel the followers of Bacon, and since then a festival was held at the monastery every year. One monk would make the garlic appear out of thin air and be applauded for this, and this year it was his turn. But despite the festival being in barely two weeks Opos had been seriously procrastinating.

And now the garlic had landed on an innocent looking person. This was very strange. Nethel's garlic only lands on its worst enemies, or on its greatest saints. Was the orange-juice full shirt man an evil religious lord, or a grand prophet? Opos decided to find out, and knocked at a door. The door opened not on the man in question, but instead on a foreign looking missionary. Damn...he would need to invent something...so he asked for pastries.
 
The monk ... wanted a pastry? Orion was incredibly confused. Behind him, his roommate and Tomoya had disappeared, he had no idea to where. Probably to one of the various relaxation rooms scattered throughout the residence, which were stuffed with sofas. Comfy sofas, hard sofas, leather sofas, Goose down filled sofas, there were more sofas in this place than in a furniture emporium.

Turning his attention back to the monk, he thought about what he should do. These itinerant Nethelians could be useful if befriended ... or dangerous. Many of them were completely insane, and it was hard to the tell the difference between the crazy ones and the ones that were just especially devout. He wracked his brain for what he could give this meddling monk without seeming like he was being cheap and decided that the two day old cinnamon rolls he had ... repurposed ... from the office the other day probably would still be just fine.

He smilled at the monk and said, "Of course, Holy One. One moment, I'll fetch it from the kitchen. Please, step inside out of the rain."
 
Osop stepped in the residence, and waited for Orion to walk away before trying to activate arcane detection. Closing his eyes, Osop opened his heart to the world around him, attempting to percieve the remnants of old magi...Meooow!

"If only I had revised Chapter 28" Osop sighed. He had once again mistaken the arcane detection with the cat generation spell. Placing the newly arrived magically generated tabby cat on one of the numerous sofas hoping nobody would notice, he then walked around pretending the cat had always been there.

Someone on the street looked at him very strangely, but Osop decided the person was more attracted by their costume than by the cat generation. Hopefully.

He now waited for Orion to return, and he would hopefully learn more about the strange place he had landed in.
 
Tomoya tries to find an exit but with no luck, he ends up going everywhere (but the entrance) not knowing where to go. After a few minutes, he ended back on the place where he first was, sat down, and let out a big sigh.
 
On his way to the residence's kitchen, Orion kept poking his head into the various sofa-filled rooms, hoping to find Tomoya. Who knows what a concussed Tomoya will do if he wanders around this place! He's liable to get lost and then what. Just then, he heard a meow coming back from the way he came. As he turned to look for a cat (when did we get a cat?), he heard from his original direction the sound a big sigh. He spun around again completing a three sixty and nearly fell down in the hallway. The sigh must have come from in there, he though, and angled toward a door that was slightly askew. Peeking his head inside, he saw Tomoya sitting on a fashionable burgundy chaise lounge that, if he wasn't mistaken, had been a gift from the some Prince somewhere to the Lloenflysian Ambassador to Europeia. "There you are. C'mon. You might as well have a cinnamon roll too, if I'm going to give one to that blasted monk." And with that, he grabbed Tomoya's arm, pulled him up, and dragged him along.
 
Tomoya gets dragged by Orion.

"Hmm thanks, by the way, you said a monk? What is a monk doing here and why are you giving him a cinnamon roll?"

Tomoya licks his lips while he thought about cinnamon rolls.
 
Orion considered what he should tell Tomoya - despite his prickly initial reaction, Orion knew that Tomoya was pretty much harmless. If it hadn't been for the incident with the pink lawn flamingo a few weeks before ... but anyway, there was no use dwelling in the past. "There's some Nethel-crazed monk at the door asking for pastry. I told him I'd get him a cinnamon roll. You look famished so ... I suppose I'll give you one too." With that, the pair reached the residence's kitchen. Orion stepped around a poorly placed deep purple divan and reached a counter that held the cinnamon rolls. They looked alright ... he poked at one and it seemed to still be squishy. He tore one off and shoved it at Tomoya - "eat this, you'll feel better" - and then tore off another one and headed back toward the monk. From somewhere nearby, another *meow* echoed through the halls.
 
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