Tinnutiro: A Journey Begins

[Raargant]

Title: A Journey Begins

Introduction:

This is solo RP, and the spring-board in which I intend to shape my character. To dispel any obscurities beforehand, Gnarus is an enchanted wizard's hat, and the salamander is a magical one. I hope it's not too heavy or dull, and that anyone reading can enjoy it. Any feedback is most welcome. Thanks.

-Tinnutiro

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The Water Room

The second you enter this room you begin to panic, as you suddenly think you

are far underwater! But you quickly compose yourself (trying to ignore the

amused stares cast in your direction), and realize that the room you are in

is in fact formed of sheets of glass behind which flows sea water complete

with several species of marine life. The effect is unnerving, but quite

beautiful. You have to concentrate hard to cross the room, and can't help

but imagine you are truly walking on water...

[Exits: north west]

(Glowing) A globe of light is floating here.

An elaborately carved oaken table is here.

A leather footstool is here.

An overstuffed easy chair is here.

A Citizen of Shasarazade strolls idly by.

Let it be known that Gharmahn has been granted the title of Master Questor of Aaabahran!

Tinnutiro looks about him, almost with a precarious caution, and quietly makes his way to the chair and table.

Taking his seat, Tinnutiro brings out the scroll and pen, setting them on the table. He also places a deck of Tarot cards aside.

You sit down on an overstuffed easy chair.

Tinnutiro's pointed hat says, 'Ha! Nothing can disturb you while you work.'

Tinnutiro ignores Gnarus's last remark, and begins to scribe on the scroll once again. The salamander on his shoulder crawls onto the table, as if to observe.

Tinnutiro: Restring Application for Grey

To: Immortal

Deep within a mountain pass, there is a hidden race within a

hidden citadel. It is the second nature of an isolationist to never

reveal the whereabouts of his forthcoming, so it is thus: I am

from that race, hidden among the majestic mountains and

behind the walls of a calm citadel. Mountains make a home to

more than this hidden race of ours (which I shall use the

Common name for: Grey Elves), for there is, among these

perilous peaks, a dark race of black-skinned barbarians. The

existence of this race of Orcs and our race, together, brought

about armed relations. One by one, word of other citadels fell

silent from the black plague that swept across the mountains; a

black cloud that shrouded with it, death. The sheer numbers of

their race and kind overwhelmed the best of defences to a

straggling point where defences were defenceless. Our calm

citadels came to a relative few standing of nude fortresses.

Inside, we laid in waiting. Though immortal and ageless as

Pure Elves who were never diluted by the fornication of other

races, a short and violent death ended us quite the same.

As inhabitants of a prostrate citadel, we never postponed our

own enjoyment. What little rumours that escaped our walls may

have been true: we are indeed a decadent and aloof kind,

though it is so, we place as much enjoyment in the furtherance

of knowledge and wisdom that far surpasses any race ever

spoken of. The secrets of our knowledge are closely guarded,

and I shall not divulge in the 'how', but the 'what'. The sky,

Universe, magick, and planes of existence generally were our

fields of study. If there is a doubt in the substance of the

knowledge and wisdom of our race, then the care is not ours;

our climactic pride rises above all in an overwhelming self-

confidence that invalidates the saying, "If you're worried about

another's pride, then you have too much pride."

However, I was borne a rebel. That my mother would conceive an

artist, rather than a mathematician, was puzzling. My left-handed

dominance was also strange, and my handwriting stranger still. I

felt the terror of my existence epitomised by my horrific and

imperfect handwriting that haunts my being. I occasionally

theorised that, during my development, there had been some minor

error, and within that minor error, spawned many more of the

same. In a sea of conforming individuals, I was then a rebel.

Without saying, my very internals spoke the word 'no'. 'No, I am

not the same, but I am the same: my interest lies within poetry,

stories, nature - though still of the same blood.'

Hope cajoled me out onto the ramparts of the citadel. I felt

oppressed by the silent judgment imposed on me by the eyes of my

people. It wasn't as if I had condemned myself, but I had the

notion that others damned me silently as I walked pass, masked by

their pretence of politeness. I hoped, that being cast out of the sky,

I would find salvation elsewhere, past the ramparts and into the

other race of peoples who may accept me. There was an unspoken

forewarning embedded into a philosophy which I remember

taught:

"To live is to win."

Outside of the citadel, there awaited a death, hovering above. Hope

of salvation tempted me outside, and as I stepped forth, the gates

behind me closed with a momentous weight. The sound stunned

me, and I realised that I had now begun a journey. The Fool I was

begun his transcendent journey to the outside; my mission was a

free one, searching for that intangible object that I had never had.

I wanted to live.

A tarnished lantern flickers and goes out.

[Academy](Trusted) Anyndur: 'Greetings.'

[Academy](Inductee) Lwain: 'Hello.'

[Academy](Veteran) Gharmahn: 'Hi.'

[Academy](Inductee) Tinnutiro: 'Good afternoon.'

[ Elf ] (Academy [T]) Anyndur Telrunya the Holy Patriarch of Healing

[ Human ] (Academy [T]) Crelle the Master Bard

[ 1 Elf Bar] [D] (Academy ) Tinnutiro Rilynnrretyn the Apprentice Minstrel

[ Human ] (Academy ) Lwain Bento the Master of the Spirit

[ Elf ] (Academy [V]) Gharmahn Sheilnas the Holy Patriarch of Healing

Players matched: 5

There are 22 characters on, the most on since startup was 46.

The title of Master Questor of Aabahran is currently held by Gharmahn.

[Academy](Inductee) Tinnutiro: 'My name is Tinnutiro Rilynnrretyn, Twilight Gaze of the Noble House of the Heavens. I am new to the Academy, and to the lands.'

Let it be known that Anyndur has been granted the title of Master Questor of Aaabahran!

[Academy](Trusted) Crelle: 'Greetings, Tinnutiro, My name is Crelle, I am a teacher of these halls. If you need anything..anything at all, I will answer to the best of my ability.'

[Academy](Trusted) Anyndur: 'Welcome Tinnutiro.'

[Academy](Inductee) Lwain: 'Wellcome Tinnutiro Rilynnrretyn.'

[Academy](Inductee) Tinnutiro: 'Thank you, I feel most welcomed, certainly. I will remember your offer, Crelle.'

[Academy](Inductee) Lwain: 'Remenber to nnnoot RuN iin theh awcjaDEhmy hallWaYs.'

[Academy](Inductee) Tinnutiro: '... of course. Such a rule seems elementary...'

Let it be known that Zizelvik has been granted the title of Master Questor of Aaabahran!

Tinnutiro finishes his work, and rolls up the scroll. He ties a small scarlet ribbon, to keep it in place.

Lines appearing on his brow, Tinnutiro sighs, saying 'Life, it seems an endless repetition of action. How do we live, knowing that death, in the end, awaits? And of my immortality, what of it...?'

Tinnutiro continues to say, 'My unending lifeline... even if there would be no death for me, life continues on eternally repetitive. Is there no escape? What an absurdity.'

Tinnutiro's pointed hat says, 'Oh? I see the philosopher in you now, Tinnutiro. Even as your race, an immortal kind, death is still there in violence. Even if you escape death, you cannot escape the absurd life. That is of course, unless you know..."

Tinnutiro's pointed hat finishes with, '... unless you know the answer.'

Tinnutiro raises a brow as he inquires, 'And you know the answer, Gnarus?'

Tinnutiro's pointed hat says, 'Of course. However, I cannot give it to you. This is a stage in life you must face alone. It may drive one insane, or completely liberate one beyond his wildest dreams. You will see.'

Tinnutiro's salamander flicks his forked tongue, and turns his head toward the conversation, as if taking interest.

A few beats of time pass. From a slightly different angle, Tinnutiro states, 'Beings who have seen death, and perhaps suffered loss, they try to escape it.'

You say 'We create cities, castles, citadels... the shelter is just an illusion, created to divert the eyes somehow.'

You say 'The parallel paradise, running away from the truth. A paradise created from fear, that's what they all are, aren't they? Outside of the walls lurks death, and yet I took a step out of paradise. It must've been the fiery wand directing me.'

Tinnutiro's pointed hat says, 'You want the truth.'

Without skipping a beat, Tinnutiro confirms with, 'Exactly.'

You say 'Escaping the escape from reality, I confront the issue again. Truly living, instead of just existing... there seems to be a line there.'

Tinnutiro raises his left arm, the scroll held in the air. A white dove comes with a flutter of wings, taking the scroll with her.

app post

Ok.

[i hit a slab of lag here, and had to re-connect.]

Tinnutiro seems to snap back to reality, his head shaking, making sense of the things about him.

Gnarus, Tinnutiro's pointed hat, begins to glow. From the deck of Tarot cards on the table, one arises, directed by the hat, and floats in front of Tinnutiro's face to be observed.

Tinnutiro's pointed hat says, 'You are like The Chariot. It stands for Victory, yet the man is somewhat tense. His will alone controls the sphinxes, the conscious and the unconscious.'

Tinnutiro's pointed hat says, 'However, look at how he melts into the chariot, as if he were a part of it. His ego and maturity as an adult is formed by civilisation, and the sphinxes look away from each other. They are not reconciled by his ego..."

Tinnutiro's pointed hat says, '... they are only under control.'

Tinnutiro directs his twilight gaze into the card before him, completely transfixed. His expression softens as he seems to absorb the meaning of the card.

Let it be known that Anyndur has been granted the title of Master Questor of Aaabahran!

You say 'Yes, I see what you mean. He is just as I am. Ever since I've left, I've kept my emotions and actions under complete control. The restraint is my own will, fortified by the mask of my ego. I must somehow make peace. An inward journey, is it?'

Tinnutiro reaches out with his left hand, receiving the card. Gazing at it for a moment more, he tucks it away in the deck.

The lines on Tinnutiro's forehead appear once again as he sinks into deep thought. Naturally, his hand raises and strokes his chin.

You say 'The purpose of the soul is to facilitate the art of living within the body, and to superintend this life. Preceding the purpose, is the need. We need to live, thus the soul fulfils its purpose to provide life.'

You say 'But to what extent...? The purpose of life, such an ancient question.'

A long silence ensues between Gnarus and Tinnutiro.

...

Tinnutiro's salamander suddenly burps, a small cloud of smoke arising from his mouth.

Tinnutiro's pointed hat says, 'Ah, Tinnutiro, your journey has only begun.'

The salamander before Tinnutiro curls into a small circle, and begins to sleep soundly.