Winter Quest: The Wizzrobe [Closed]

This quest is tied to the Winter Event.

Description: Within the Northern Hills, there are four known sources of overwhelming dark power, each of which seems to be causing the blizzards that are slowly encroaching upon Hyrule. One of the sources is, according to rumor, a wizard of unmatched mastery of ice magic. As it is told, he slings spells as an archer does arrow, and can even bring forth spires of frost to rain from the sky with a mere of his wrist. All the while, spontaneously-formed shields of ice bat away any attacks which even come close to him... Though it's difficult to believe, some say he's the true mastermind behind the blizzards.

Whether you have unyielding courage or blind foolishness, you have about as much hope of finding and killing this demigod as a Keese does a Darknut. May Farore bless your journey.

Rewards: The rewards are of your choice if they can be reasonably woven into the role-play. Whereas a normal quest has rewards of 40r per player and 10r per character, his quest has 60r per player and 15r per character.

Notes: The sorcerer will be completely under your control during the role-play, but you are expected to make it just as challenging as one could ever expect it to be.

Players: 1 [Quill]
Characters: 2 [Loft Kiratel] and [Marcus Heilari]

Loft's Rupees: 55 (from creation) + 15 (character reward) + 25 (player reward) = 95

Loft's reward: Needle Storm [22 Rupees] + Wall-Walking [45] + Sun's Song [15] + Wind's Requiem [7] = 6 left over

Marcus' Rupees: 0 (from last thread) + 10 (Christmas Event) 15 (character reward) + 35 (player reward) = 60

Marcus' reward: Capture Staff [60 Rupees] = 0 left over
---___---___---___---

Loft giggled, tossing his knife from one hand to another, the steel flashing in the light from his Red Candle. Its unwavering flame was the only source of light in the night, and Loft used it to play shadow puppets against the rock he was sheltering behind.

"I'm a fluffy bunny," he sang, shaping his hand into the likeness of a bunny and bopping it through the light, "la dee dop dee dooo..."

"Grrrr!" His right hand said, "I'm a Stalfos! Mwahahahha!"

"Oh noes!" Loft cried. "Mr. Bunny got strangled by Sir Stalfos! Won't ANYONE come and save him!"

"I will!" His big toe shouted, poking into the fray. "Fear not, Mr. Bunny! I will save you!"

"You're too late, Senor Dorksalot!" Mr. Bunny cried. "I'm dead!" And with that... Mr. Bunny died.

"Noooooooo!!!" Senor Dorksalot screamed, falling to one toenail. "I...I will avenge thee, my friend!!"

"A-hahaha! Bring it on, Senor Fool!" Sir Stalfos cried, swinging a pointy index nail at him.

"It's Senor DORKSALOT!" He screamed, tackling Sir Stalfos.

"And thus," Loft said, "it was that the big toe Senor Dorksalot vanquished the right hand Sir Stalfos, and peace was established once more in the kingdom of Dextrous. And lo, Senor Dorksalot was rewarded for his valor and might by the lovely Princess Ahole, who agreed to become his bride. And so it was that the two big toes were married in holy dextranomy and had many little pinklets. THE END!"

"Yaaaay!" Loft said, clapping. "A happy ending!"

The storm howled, protesting against the couple's joy. Loft frowned at it. "Just because YOU haven't found your soulmate, Blizzy!"

Blizzy didn't seem to care too much for Loft's logic and continued raging against their rocky shelter. The candle stayed straight, unaffected by the wind's might.

"Now," Loft pondered, "how does that work?" He leaned in closer to the flame, staring at it. "It's a flame, but it doesn't waver by the wind. How- OWWOWOOWOW MY EYES!"

He fell backwards from the candleflame, rubbing his eyes furiously. "T-that hurt!" He glared at the candle, crossing his arms. "I'm not gonna talk to you again, Candie!"

"..."

"No, no," he said stubbornly, "there's no use in arguing! I've made up my mind, you magical fire that constantly is renewed and thus doesn't exist long enough to be affected by the wind's power!"

He paused. "Oh, so that's how you do it!" He laughed. "That's pretty cool, Candie! I can't NOT talk to you after learning that!"

"..."

He waved Candie's remark away with a magnanimous sweep of the hand. "No, no, no need to thank me, old chap! It was a pleasure, I'm sure!"

The wind blew harder, and Loft shivered. "Brrr. It sure is cold out tonight, huh Candie?"

"..."

"Yeah, I know. Blizzie's pretty upset about something." He peered out at the dark night. "I wonder what got her so worked up..."

"..."

"You're right. This can't be natural. Someone must be doing something to her."

He paused. "But...what?"

"..."

Loft laughed. "Great idea! Let's ask Blizzie! We'll just go to the origin point of the storm and find out what's going on!"

He paused again. "Wow, that IS a good idea! Thanks, Candie!"

He grinned slyly. "Hey Candie, I know what we're doing tomorrow. We're gonna stop a natural disaster!"

"..."

"Whoa there, Candie, calm down! We can't go now, it's past our bedtimes!"

"..."

"No need to sulk..."

And so it was that Loft spent the night in good company, huddled behind a rock in a supernatural blizzard.

"Sure is cold... we're going to have to find a coat or something soon..."

---___---___---___---

The next night.

Loft moaned softly, shifting in his new fur coat. "So waaaarm..." He yawned luxuriously, stretching, and settled into the base of the old oak tree he had found. "Mmmmm... warm and toasty..."

The fur coat reached down to his ankles when he stood, and had straps ensuring that no part of the body was left unprotected. Its insides were layered in warm wool and soft fur, keeping his body temperature at a comfortable level.

Now, he was using it as a sleeping bag, and it covered his whole frame when he curled into a ball. Which was okay- that was how he usually slept.

"Good night, Furry," he mumbled to his coat, "so nice to," he yawned loudly, "have you on... the team... g'night...."

"..."

"Sh!" He giggled weakly. "'M tryin' ta sleep..." He mumbled something incoherent and snuggled in closer to his new friend. "G'night Candie...Mapa...Furry..."

Candie was sleeping comfortably in his backpack. 'Mapa' (his map of Hyrule) was rolled up nice and tight in a container inches from Candie (he didn't like to sleep alone). And finally, Furry was wrapped around Loft. Everyone was happy.

Everyone except a dark shape lying abandoned in the snow feet from where the party rested. A shape that got no good night. No words were spoken to it or of it. Instead, it merely lay there. Lost and forgotten.

The next morning, Loft skipped happily into the wind, seeking the source of the blizzard, leaving the shape to lie there, alone.

It would be minutes before the dark, abandoned thing was covered in snow by the blizzard.

It would be hours before the sun rose, revealing the tips of two blue toes.

It would be weeks before a caravan of silk merchants stumbled across the body.

It would be months before the body was identified to be Isaiah Herald, a marine biologist heading to the Zoras in Lake Hylia.

Finally, it would be a year before the body was delivered to his wife and daughter, Mrs. Irene Herald and young Lucy Herald.

All for a coat.

((Note: this is an indirect continuation from Marcus' last/first RP, "Skulltulas in the Western Caves." While it is perfectly possible to understand the following events without reading that, it is highly recommended that you do take a quick look at that thread, located here.))

"Excuse me." A boy asked, his hands held up tentatively against the edge of a wooden desk.

The tall, pinched looking woman sitting across the desk ignored him. With a disdainful sniff, she flipped a page in her book, gold-plated bracelets tinkling loudly.

The boy cleared his throat again, leaning his black-haired head over the desk. "Excuse me, miss?" A small Keaton on his shoulder yipped, attracted by the shimmering bracelets.

The woman adjusted her glasses, tapping a small plaque with a long, manicured nail.

NO PETS ALLOWED

The boy frowned, tapping his feet impatiently. "Keaton is not a pet. Could you show me where the Demonology section is?"

Loud footsteps sounded from behind him, sparing the woman from the indignity of having to respond to a street waif. An armored man was approaching them, his helmet tucked casually under his arm, allowing his mane of blond hair to fall around his neck unchecked. His metal-plated boots clanked loudly against the marble tiles, and protruding several inches from the left boot was a threatening dagger, glinting in the steady mage-light. Hanging from his waist was an ornamental scabbard, containing an intricately jewel-encrusted broadsword. A red cloth was draped across his chain-mailed torso, proudly displaying the golden insignia of the Royal Family. His pale blue eyes skimmed right over the boy, coming to rest immediately on the woman across the desk.

"Captain Perevil!" The snooty woman gasped, hastily sitting up straight and placing her book aside. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

The man placed a large, gauntleted hand on the wooden desk, causing an inkpot to shake threateningly. "Good day, Madame. I require information on the dreaded Ice Wizzrobe, which I believe to be the originator of this most dreaded storm."

The boy gasped. "T-the Wizzrobe? Are you going after him?"

The large man, Captain Perevil, turned. He grinned, patting the boy on the head. "That's right, kid. You can rest easy tonight, knowing that Captain Perevil, of the Third House of Sasquatch, is working tirelessly to ensure that the Wizzrobe will not live to plague our good land of Hyrule any longer!"

The woman, who had pulled out a (very) large black binder, ran her finger down the pages, tutting. "Wizzrobes... Wizzrobes... aha!" She looked up, smiling sweetly. "Room 7, Section 3, Row 9, Non-Human Magic-Users, by D. Mons. Arus."

"I thank you!" Captain Perevil said grandly, sweeping across the floor to a doorway marked, "ROOM 7," and underneath that, in blood-red paint, was splashed the word, "MONSTERS."

"H-hey!" The boy cried, abandoning his post by the snobby lady to chase after the man. "Wait!"

Captain Perevil laughed, turning towards him. "No, no, it's alright. I will undoubtedly emerge victorious in my quest." When the boy opened his mouth further, he grinned. "Ah, I see. You want my autograph, don't you?" He pulled out a pad of paper and a quill from Nayru-only-knows-where, and in his furious scribbling he didn't notice the boy try to speak. "In times of crisis, keep this word of wisdom close to your heart: 'WWCPD?' From, your Hero, Captain Perevil."

He ripped the piece of paper off the pad, thrusting it into the boy's hand. "There you go, kid. Better run along, now, there's a good lad."

He started to walk off, red cape swishing majestically behind him, when a small voice from behind him spoke up.

"I didn't want an autograph."

"What?" He turned, his eyebrows raised. His metal boots clanked against the marble tiles, echoing loudly across the library's "hub."

The boy breathed deeply. "I want to fight the Wizzrobe with you."

The newly-appointed Captain of the Hylian Guard stared at him with his pale blue eyes. He threw his head back and let loose gales of roaring laughter. The boy winced, but stood his ground. Waiting.

After several dozen seconds, the echoes had faded, and Captain Peveril was clutching his side, gasping. "Ah, that...that was a good one, lad." He chuckled, waving an amused finger at the boy. "Whoo... ahh..." he cleared his throat, and straightened.

Captain Peveril walked over to him, and ruffled his hair affectionately. "You know what, kid? I like you. In a few years, you could be just like me. Well," he coughed, "maybe not just like me, but pretty close."

He knelt down on one knee, looking the kid straight in the eye. "I understand that you want to help me, kid. Who wouldn't want to go on an adventurer with the great Hero of Hyrule? But you're not ready yet. Keep on training hard, kiddo, and maybe one day we'll raid together, okay?"

He stood up, and walked back towards the entryway to the library's Monster room. Again, before he could enter, the boy tried to stop him. But his voice wasn't so small this time.

"How do you intend to vanquish the Wizzrobe without a Healer?"

The man laughed, and did not stop. "Heh, I'll manage somehow, kid. Don't worry about me."

"Where's your dagger?"

The man froze, right foot halted inches above the marble lip. He bent over, patting his boot furiously. "Where is it," he mumbled, searching the floor around him.

"Shiny."

He glanced over at the boy, and his eyes widened. The black-haired boy was raising the dagger, fascinated at the way that the metal surface glimmered in the steady mage-lights.

"Thanks, kid." He said, relieved, stretching out a gauntleted hand for the dagger.

The boy continued to examine it, raising the dagger up to better catch the light. "Sharp." He raised his eyes to the Captain, and the man was startled at the abrupt change in his bearing. Gone was the nervous little boy who had asked for an autograph. Before him stood someone who's icy eyes pierced straight through him, capturing his pale blue eyes within his own steely sapphire.

"I wonder..." he mused, bringing it down and running the edge against his arm. "The Wizzrobe is a notorious monster, with an undoubted mastery of the Ice magics. Say he creates a thousand shards of ice and flings them at you." He slashed the dagger through the air, a silver blur streaking through the still room.

Captain Peveril glanced nervously at the woman behind the desk, hoping that she would do something. But she wasn't even looking at the quiet spectacle, having returned to her book- Librarians, dashing Captains, and you.

"You hide behind your shield. But it's not big enough, is it?" The dagger stops, mid-arc, and lowers slowly to his arm. "What happens to you?"

Too late, the Captain realized what was happening. With a cry, he leaped forward, but his body collided with a shimmering blue crystal, and he was thrown backwards. He groaned, slumped against the floor. Being thrown in armor hurt. A lot.

A steady drip, drip reached his ears, and he looked up, frightened at what he might see.

Blood. Trickling down the boy's arm, staining his brown sleeves and the silver hilt of the knife.

"You die."

The Captain yelled, jumping forward again, and this time he saw the boy's hand slash through the air, creating a blue crystal that hung in the air between them. He managed to skid to a halt, his face inches from the reflective shard.

"And so ends the great Captain Peveril, doomed to die a slow and painful death at the hands of the Wizzrobe."

"L-listen, kid," the Captain began, holding out a shaking hand, "give me the dagger. Just give me the dagger, alright? Y-you can come, just give me the dagger!"

"You would have died," the boy stated calmly, "and that would be it."

The Captain shook his head wildly, trying to regain his focus. What was happening here? He was going to research the Wizzrobe, and then this boy just grabbed his dagger. Why? Why?

"You can't face the Wizzrobe alone," the boy said, closing his eyes and shaking his black hair.

"But together..." He ran a finger along the cut, and sparks burst forth, sealing the wound.

"Together, we can take that murdering bastard down."

---___---___---___---

The Captain sighed, tapping his fingers against the desk. What to do, what to do. His eyes bored into the book in front of him, seeing, but not taking any of the words in. This whole Wizzrobe business was getting complicated. All he had wanted to do was to find out how to kill the stupid thing, trek up the mountain, kill it, come back with its head, and receive the gifts that would undoubtedly be bestowed upon him by the King himself.

But then, he had shown up. His eyes glanced at the boy across from him, studying him silently. The boy (who's name he still didn't know) was reading his own book carefully, examining it closely for any clue that would help them best the monster.

This boy, while very over-dramatic, had a good point. By himself, he had little chance of surviving a battle with a Wizzrobe on its own turf. With a Healer who specialized in defensive magics, though... he stood a good chance.

Of course, the boy could have just TOLD him this, and he would have been okay with it. But no, he had to steal his dagger and slice himself open to prove his point. Secretly, of course, Captain Peveril knew that there was no way otherwise that he would have allowed the boy to come with him, but he would never admit that the boy was right.

The Keaton on the boy's shoulder hissed at him, clawing the air in his direction. The boy reached up a hand and nuzzled his head absent-mindedly. Captain Peveril sniffed. Disgusting animal. The Keaton growled, fur rising threateningly. The two glared into each other's eyes, silently waging war. The Keaton yapped loudly, breaking the silence, and the Captain jumped. Chittering in amusement, the Keaton curled into the boy's shoulder and settled down for a nap.

The Captain's hand rested on his sword. So tempting, to just end that miserable creature's life... but no. He needed the boy. And somehow, he didn't think that the boy would react well to his pet being killed.

The boy.

The problem with the boy lay in the glory, in what happened after the battle. When he, Captain Peveril, was finished killing the Wizzrobe, the little moocher would claim credit as well. And the great Hero Captain Peveril shared glory with no-one. No-one. The gold would be his. The women would be his. Not anyone else's. His.

The boy flicked a page idly. The Captain's eyes narrowed. Yes, there was only one thing to be done. Let the boy help him, then afterwards, stab him in the back.

He smiled. Victory was at hand.

"Have you found anything yet?" The boy asked, bored. "Or are you too busy soliloquizing?"

The Captain jumped. "Um, yes, I have!" He glanced downwards, feverishly searching for something he could say. The plan must not be given away, the boy must not suspect him!

"Did you know that... that... that an Ice Wizzrobe's preferred brand of deodorant is Old Spice?"

A pause.

"No, Captain, I didn't know that. Don't look down, by the way, or he'll be on a horse before we know it."

---___---___---___---

Loft crept through the hallways of the Library, silent as a mouse. "Dun dun du-du dun dun du-du dun dun du-du dun dun, du-du-DUN!"

Silent as a ten-foot tall mouse high off caffeine, anyway.

What was our intrepid hero doing in the Library? Why was he here? The answer was simple. Loft wanted stuff. Lots of stuff. The shinier, the better. He knew from the Thieves' Den that the Hylian Royal Library was connected to the Treasure Vault, and he wanted something from it. Loft had a bad case of shiny-itis. Upon sight of something even remotely shiny, he would drop everything and chase after it.

Well, this was the perfect opportunity to snag a little something-something. Royals wouldn't miss a thing.

Loft crawled underneath a gigantic arch, and entered into what had to be the Library's main hub. Thirteen doors stood around the circular chamber, each leading into another great section of the Library. Above each door rested a plaque, the name of the section artistically painted onto it.

One door stood out to him. The one that said "ROYAL TREASURY" on it.

The door was located directly behind an oak desk, where a tall woman sat reading a book.

To get through the door, he would have to kill the woman and break through the lock. That would be fun. But, he argued with himself, doing so would attract the attention of hidden guards, and probably set off some kind of magical alarm system. That would be less fun.

Loft tutted. It was so obvious that the door was a fake, a trap meant to lure in thieves and bandits. There was just no way that the Royal Family would place the entrance to the Vault in a place so obvious (and so public) as the hub of the Royal Library. Which, interestingly enough, was not exclusive to the Royal Family, but instead to any of a certain class level. No, the real entrance would most likely be concealed within one of the other chambers. But... there were so many. Twelve doors, each leading to a whole new antechamber, with whole new doors leading to specific classifications of the subject. He groaned, his head beginning to spin with the sheer large-ness of the place. Not only that, but the entrance could quite literally be anywhere. Anything. A pressed button behind an old book, pulling back one of the marble tiles. A torch bracket, pulled downwards, sliding a bookshelf back. Anything.

What he needed was a map. But Mapa wasn't a magical map; it didn't automatically configure itself to the new region. He paused. That sounded interesting... maybe he would beseech the Powers that Were to imbue his map with this mystical quality. He shook his head. He would write a letter to the MobSanta later.

Loft sighed. He could leave, and go up to Blizzie without anything shiny. His throat constricted, and his mind spun. No. No, he couldn't leave. He wanted the shiny. He needed the shiny.

He walked forward into the room, and spun around until he fell over. His outstretched arm was pointing between "MONSTERS" and "HISTORY."

"Monsters it is."

---___---___---___---

Marcus sighed, still perusing his book. The Captain had left some time ago, claiming that he needed to go 'prepare' for the journey. Marcus snorted. Gone to brush his hair, probably.

He flipped a page. "A study of Wizzrobes and their mating calls." He scrunched his nose. Somehow, he doubted that a plan focused around that would work.

Flip. "Wizzrobes: Homicidal maniacs, or misunderstood victims?" He sighed; people would believe anything, wouldn't they?

Flip. "How the magical specialty of the Wizzrobe is directly related to the Wizzrobe's orientation." He paused, looking up. There were three Wizzrobe types. Did that mean...? He shook his head. Next!

Flip. "An examination of the Wizzrobe reproduction ritual." Marcus furrowed his brow. What? He leaned his head in, looking at the diagram. "Oh, gross!"

Rip. "The world's a better place now," he mumbled, tossing the page into the mage-light bubble above him. Unfortunately, mage-light didn't burn, so the page just fluttered back down into the book.

Marcus stared at it. "Ah, whatever." He closed the book, and stretched, leaning backwards in his chair. "Farore, I'm so BORED!"

"Me too; hey, let's be friends!"

---___---___---___---

Marcus fell out of his chair, the snoozing Keaton leaping off onto the ground, chattering angrily. There was a boy standing a few feet away from him. He quickly raked the boy's form with his eyes. Brown boots. Brown tunic. Blond hair. Blue eyes.

He stopped. The eyes... there was something... wrong... with them. He couldn't explain it, but something about the new boy's eyes were... off. As if the light behind them were upside down and fueled by rapid squirrel-monkeys.

"W-who are you?" He asked, voice shaking from the pain that came with his knee banging into the table's wooden support legs.

"I," the boy said, bowing grandly, "am Loft Kiratel." He giggled. "But you can call me Loft."

Marcus stared at him. "Uh, okay. I will. So what are you-"

"Hey what's that?" The boy, Loft, asked loudly, grabbing a book.

"It's a book." Marcus said. "A book on Wizzrobes."

Loft cocked his head to one side. "Wizz...robes? Wizzies?"

"...Yes. Wizzies."

"Wow..." Loft stared at the book with wide eyes, then dropped it. "It's not shiny." He looked into Marcus' eyes, his own glimmering innocently. "I'm looking for shiny things. Do you know where I can find any?"

Marcus bit his lip, thinking. "Um, let's see. I wouldn't really know, I haven't been here before. The Captain might, though, you should ask him."

"Okay!" Loft said happily, sitting in the chair across from Marcus. "I'll wait here with you!"

"O...kay..." Marcus said, blinking.

Loft hummed under his breath, kicking his legs back and forth under the table. "So," he said, "why are you reading about Wizzies?"

"Because," Marcus said without looking up, "a Wizzrobe's what's causing the storm."

Loft gasped loudly. "Really? Wizzie's what's hurting Blizzie?"

Marcus sighed, his index finger running along a list of the Wizzrobe personalities. "If that means what I think it means, then yes."

"And," Loft whispered, "what are you going to do to Wizzie when you find him?"

Marcus looked up, his steely blue eyes meeting Loft's sky-blue ones. "I'm going to kill him."

"Can... can I come?" Loft asked, his voice low and hushed as if asking entrance into a super-secret-society.

Marcus eyed him appraisingly. "Well, that depends. I'm on the team because I can heal any injury and reflect any attack. The Captain's on the team because he possesses the physical abilities necessary to actually kill the Wizzrobe. What can you do?"

Too late, it occurred to him that spilling the details of his powers to a stranger might not be a good idea, but he shrugged it off- there was no point in worrying about that now.

Loft thought, putting a pinky finger to the edge of his mouth. "Umm... let's see, I can clone myself, I can control any humanoid inanimate object, I can fight, I have a Red Candle, a fur coat, oh and-"

"Wait, what was that?" Marcus asked suddenly, leaning forward.

"Which one?"

"The first two," Marcus said impatiently. "What were they?"

"Ummm... cloning myself and controlling a humanoid inanimate object?"

Marcus chewed his tongue. "Would it be possible to-"

"Clone myself and control the clone telepathically?" Loft asked, swaying in his seat. "Yeppers! That's how I escaped!"

"Escaped?" Marcus asked. "Escaped what?"

"The guards," Loft said, grinning. "I cloned myself and made him run past them." His fingers crossed behind his chair, but Marcus didn't notice.

Marcus nodded, impressed. "Nice. Well, I could definitely use a person like you." He stretched out his hand. "Welcome to the team, Loft."

Loft grabbed the hand in both of his own, and shook it wildly. He paused, the hands freezing in mid-air. "Does... does this mean that we're... friends?"

Marcus took his head back, massaging it gently. He looked up, grinning. "Yeah, I guess it does."

Keaton chittered, nuzzling up against Loft's leg.

Marcus laughed. "Hey, if Keaton likes you..."

Loft jumped onto his chair, startling the other two. "I've got a ~frieeeend.~ I've got a ~frieeeeend.~ Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Go Lofty! Go Lofty! Who's awesome! You're awesome!"

Marcus stared at him, then motioned for Keaton to come closer. When it had, he whispered into its ear. "Then again..."

Keaton nipped his finger, chittering.

"Oh yeah! Oh yeah! YEAAAAAH LOOOOOFT!!!!"

Marcus chuckled, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Yeah, I guess you're right, Ki. With a guy like this around, we'll never be bored again."

"Hey Loft!" Marcus called, stopping Loft. "If you want to grab a book and start reading, that'd be a big help."

Loft nodded frantically, grabbing the nearest book and ripping it open.

"Not that one!" Marcus said hastily, realizing which book it was too late.

"GAAAAH!!! MY EYES!!! IT BUUUUUURNS!!!"

---___---___---___---

((Warning: spoilerz ahead. Only read if you're officially critiquing the story.))

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The NPC will never, ever take the spotlight. I'm not sure HOW I'm going to kill him off at this point, but rest assured- I have absolutely no intention in letting him become PC-like or overshadow the real main characters. He's only there to add flavor, drama, and story to the RP.

Oh! I'm sorry, my mistake. I'll re-post in the proper forum immediately.

Will, it's done. Here it is, and please excuse any irregularities you may notice, such as the sudden change between 1st and 3rd person for one of my characters. This began in... what, December? Things have changed since then, and I've probably forgot a lot of my old plot points, but the basics are still there.

Thanks a lot!