Arcane Archaeology (Jorick & Turtle)

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Our knees do not bend easily.
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
One Post a Week, Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige, Douche, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Usually aggressive, but can switch to passive if it makes sense for the character/scene.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy is my #1; I will give almost anything a chance if it has strong fantasy elements. Post apocalyptic, superhero, alternate history, science fantasy, some supernatural, romance, and a few fandoms (especially Game of Thrones) are also likely to catch my eye.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, western, pure slice of life.
Though it was bustling with activity, the road was eerily quiet but for footsteps, one man's questions, and the rare monosyllabic replies. Darren was more accustomed to the affluent areas of Renaissance, where any crowded place was also busy with chatter and often laughter, so seeing these broken and downtrodden people was wearing heavily on him. It was so easy to forget that most people in the city were forced to live in squalor as they tried to scrape by as best they could. This particular road was the main route between a few of the more populated ruins, the frighteningly tall structures that had been made by people from before the world ended, and the mud-choked river where they got their water. The path was a winding and twisting thing, weaving between the huge chunks of stone and piles of rusted metal that remained from one of the ancient buildings collapsing long before Darren had been born, and he stood atop one of those piles trying to catch the attention of those passing by.

"Have you heard anything about where magic came from?" No response from anyone in the crowd. "Have you heard any legends about how the world got this way, about what happened to the people who built these structures?" Nothing. "Would anyone like to help me seek out the true answers to these questions?"

This one did get a reply, from someone he couldn't place in the crowd: "Piss off." It was a disgruntled grumble rather than an angry shout. Darren sighed and settled in to wait for more of the crowd to shuffle by so he could ask another group.

"How'd you get those scars?"

Darren jumped and looked around for the source of the inquisitive voice. It was a child, somewhere around eight years old at a guess, impossible to tell its gender thanks to malnutrition and straggly long hair that could be intentionally long or just left to get that way due to neglect. They had climbed quietly up onto the lower part of the pile of scrap to ask their question. He ran three fingers down the scars that marked the left side of his face and put on a smile. This was a common question from new kids he dealt with working for the Glorious Future Society, so he had a ready response.

"Ever heard of a midnight rat?" The child's eyes grew wide, as well they should. An infestation of hyper-aggressive rats that had attacked people in their sleep many years ago, before widespread efforts to exterminate them proved successful, had been the seed for the legend of the midnight rats who would devour naughty children who didn't obey their parents, particularly in matters of going to bed on time. "Not one of those, I always followed the rules."

The child laughed, and though it was a noise of genuine amusement it was also a weak and hollow sound. Darren guessed from the sound that it was in fact a young girl, and his heart ached for the lack of life he saw in her. Just like the others, she was just barely hanging on and scraping by as best she could, with no real hope except to develop useful magical abilities. He'd been one of those lucky few, else he would likely be among the river of ragged humanity flowing around this pile of rusted metal and shattered stone. Darren reached into the satchel hanging from his side and pulled out the half loaf of bread he'd brought as something to eat while waiting and hoping for someone to give him useful answers to his questions. The child looked at it with an almost predatory hunger, but she turned wary when he held it out to her. He leaned toward her a bit and dropped it into a slab of stone that was just out of his reach from his perch atop the pile, then held up his hands and offered her the mantra he gave to children newly brought from the ruins to the care of the GFS who were skittish about accepting anything. "No tricks, no pay, no scam."

The girl clambered up the scrap heap cautiously, and when she got in reach of the bread she snatched it and skittered back down. Darren expected her to flee entirely, but she paused near the base of the pile and looked up at him with the sort of seriousness only a child could muster. "Mama told me a story one night. She said her mama said the sun rises where the end fell. I dunno what it means, but she said it was where magic came from too." She flicked a finger and a sparkle of lights appeared in the air. Pretty as it was, it broke Darren's heart; if that was the extent of her power, she was going to be stuck in this life forever. The girl turned and took off into the crowd, arms wrapped protectively around the bread, and he couldn't be sure she heard his shout thanking her for the information.

It wasn't anything he hadn't already heard himself, but that was fine. Darren knew his search for clues among the poor folk of the city was likely to be a waste of time, and that scrap from the girl was the most he'd gotten so far, but he couldn't let that get to him. Once the girl was away he stood up and repeated his questions, searching the crowd for anyone who looked even mildly interested in responding. If nothing else, he was stubborn enough to stick to it for the rest of the day, and only then would he be content with considering calling the effort a failure.