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Post by debauchedsloth on Feb 10, 2016 2:13:41 GMT
Ulrik splashed the cool river water on his face and wiped away the dried blood and face-paint with his hands. The river water turned red and blue as the paint colours dripped from his face and hands, and quickly dissipated as the rapids washed it all away. Burning hay and flesh filled the air with a black smoke and rotten stench. The lights from the funeral pyres danced far away from Ulrik and the camp of soldiers.
A young warrior was crouched by the stream next to Ulrik, similarly washing his face. A large, fresh gash trailed from the top of his eyebrow to the bottom of his jaw.
“Come here,” Ulrik said, and the warrior obeyed. Ulrik pulled a long cloth out of the little pouch on his belt and began to wrap it over the bloody and oozing eye.
“We lost,” the young warrior said.
“It happens, Canute,” Ulrik replied. “When the pyres cease to burn, the witch doctor can treat your eye.”
“I will lose it, won’t I?”
Ulrik nodded. “It is an honourable wound. I will have the horsemen find you a new horse.”
The bandage was tied and Ulrik rose to his feet. “Stay close to the camp tonight. I hear their scouts in the grass.”
Ulrik took his horse by the reins and the two walked away from the camp and far into plains, ignoring his own advice. “Argmak, do you remember when we were both young. I learned to ride from you. We would leave the safety of the village to plains like these.” Ulrik closed his eyes and memories of lush green fields filled his mind. “In the night the moon flowers glowed and the bugs would flock to their petals, only for the flower to fold in on itself and consume the bugs. I hear in the far South and East there still remains some fields of the moon flowers.”
Argmak tossed his massive head and stamped his feet and Ulrik open his eyes. The ground beneath them was covered in dry yellow grass and the dirt was dried up and firm. “We need to find better land, more food. I don’t know how much longer I can feed my men and horses,” Ulrik said.
“The East has rich lands, untouched by the plague,” a voice called from behind Ulrik and Argmak. Canute stood there, seeming almost embarrassed by his intrusion. “If we leave at sunset, we can reach the Vogol forest in a week’s time and live off of the stores and hunting at least until then. Just south of the forest, away from the Huntsmen, there is fertile land.”
“But with this Ruvenian division at our tails, we would have to fight our way there,” Ulrik looked to Argmak as if the beast would have an answer.
Canute, instead, offered the reply, “What choice do we have?”
Ulrik nodded. “Then we ride at sunset. To the East.”
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Post by retrias on Feb 10, 2016 15:56:00 GMT
Dirk entered a dark looking room, his pace steady and calm , he still wore a blackened travelling hood with him, fresh from his travels to Ruvenia. Men sitting at the small table of 2-4 look at him trying to guess who is this stranger in low hushed whispers, some thought him as an assassin but was rejected by his tall toned bodyline that doesnt suit an assassin, his black ornate armor and weaponry also reject the possibility that he is a bandit. Dirk continues his stride across the bar to a corner where another hooded man sits, before Dirk could went for a word the man spoke to him in a hushed voice low enough that Dirk suspected that magic is at work.
"You have come yes , Dirk of Westerth. Paladin of coins, hunter of the beckoned witch, also High King Merchant of East Valley" everyone with an ear sharp enough to hear the man begin to face Dirks table, their interest piqued by one of his many name that they know from rumor mongering in a place like these ones
"Save the pleasantries, just go right down to what you called me for in this god forsaken land filled with snow , savages and then more snow and savages" Dirk answered having no patience for what he thought as wasted pleasantries after going through what he had to do to get here
"My master have a unique task for you, both of them will suit your fancy. The first is the expansion of Ruvenie to the south, we had some extenuating problem with monsters here and there and of course the savages you are talking about" The man opened a small sized map showing the lay of land with Ruvenia as its center , there are arrows jutting out to the south where it shown that where the Ruvenian border should have been
" And this means I will be here for a rather long time , and will be paid in ? " Dirk attention spans were only long toward things that will make him money , and if there is one thing he learned is that he should always made sure of the term of contract
"You will be paid with 100 grams gold bars, per square metres that you expand in , you will be going with our troop to areas you thought need to be... ah absored" The Hunched man nodded gleefully now that he have attracted dirks attention. "However there are more pressing matters"
"To the east of here there is the Vogol Forest, legally Ruvenian property , we wished to open this land for development of this Republic, there are however as you can guess difficulties in regard of this"
Dirk quickly realized why is it him , the paladin for hire that was called for the job and not other kind of mercenaries , He smiled in return "Consider it done , now that I am here to do it, I will now go find the local band of talented misfits to finish this"
The man with the hood look confused "Wouldnt you be better with our chosen specialists?"
Dirks reply as he exist the tavern was short "No one would miss a misfit" he walked back to the town center thinking where to begin his search
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Post by Kuma on Feb 12, 2016 15:54:23 GMT
In a crappy tavern in the crappy side of town, a lonely bard with a crimson head of hair, silver spots on his beard and mane evidence of his age, stood in a makeshift stage, composed by two tables and under the flickering light of the rustic chandelier overhead he started playing his lute. The instrument as was old but well maintained, a reflection of its owner perhaps, of dark wood with heavy varnish over it. The strident sound of the string reverberated in the room as an old song, from a long lost past started to flow from Garret’s hands and mouth. ♪ There once was a mountain Beyond the birth of the sun With a flaming fountain And with monsters overrun
A group of heroes started a quest To save one of their friends From a pest he got in the west Just to make amends ♪
The song continued, as some of the patrons started singing along. It was known as the Heroes of the Cherry Island among the audience, telling about a long forgotten conflict in a land far to the east. Garret kept singing with his baritone voice, ending the tale with how the afflicted friend of the heroes sacrificed himself to the stars so the others who risked so much would live. Some of the patrons threw some coins to his hat, lying in front of him on stage. The sound of so few coins wasn’t something Garret wanted.
-I think I need a better job, or I won’t get a warm meal, a good bed and pleasant company as I desire.- He said to himself in a whisper slipping through his closed teeth. |
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Post by HungryHunter on Feb 13, 2016 0:48:17 GMT
Perhaps the coins weren't clinking in the tavern because something else was a bigger draw that day. People slowed to stare off the road, some stopping entirely and getting as close as they dared. They murmured and whispered. "I thought they were bigger." "Do you think they actually eat the bones of men?" "Nah, they just drink blood. Look at how pale she is!" "Let's chase em' off!"
The focus of their attention was an odd pair sleeping by the road, waiting for the sun's light to die. One slept under a tree, shade protecting her frost-white skin from the sky's glare. An oversized hood with leathery ears partially covered her face, revealing only a few gaunt features. An indistinct necklace was barley visible spilling onto the ground in front of her. The other was massive, larger than any human. Her body stretched out twice the length of the average man and her body was even wider in proportion. Her oversized skull sported dark skin marred by a pink scar over one eye, sharp tusks jutting from her lower jaw. She gently stirred at the sound of the crowd, opening her one eye to find them staring from the road. She supposed a giant and a drow weren't common sights around here. She sat up, causing the crowd to back away. "I think there's a town near here." She grumbled to her small companion, causing her to stir and pull her hood tighter. Dolun shrugged and picked her helmet up. She'd let her sleep in a bit. She was quieter like this anyway.
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Post by debauchedsloth on Mar 3, 2016 7:03:01 GMT
“Canute! Run!” Ulrik screamed, blood dripping down the side of his face wildly dodging the heavy axe swings of the Ruvenian soldiers. Most of Ulrik’s tribe was long gone: Either they had fled deep into the planes or were lying motionless in the dry wheat fields around them. A few warriors remained, fighting off the heavily armed Ruvenian soldiers but their strength and resolve was slowly dwindling. Horses screamed among the clashing of metal and the stamping of hooves as horses fled the battle.
The scouts had caught them shortly after noon. Although the Ulrik and the barbarians set out before the sun rose, the Ruvenian scouts had met them on the outskirts of an abandoned farming community. Some of the small detachment of soldiers that accompanied the scouts were strong, wielding heavy weapons and equipped with armour thicker than two suits stacked together. It was impossible for Ulrik to evade the wild swings and get close enough to target a weak-spot in the armour.
“I will not leave you! I'll not dishonour our host!” Canute cried, throwing a lighter-equipped soldier to the ground and slipping his sword into the opening of the soldier’s barbute helm. Canute turned his one good eye over to Ulrik who had escaped his fight with the heavy soldier and was running at him.
“Get your ass on that horse or I swear on my brother’s grave I’ll kill …” Ulrik hissed, his voice trailing off at the end from exhaustion.
Before Canute could respond, Ulrik knocked the hilt of his sword into his head and Canute collapsed. Without losing a second, he threw Canute’s unconscious body over his shoulder and hoisted his comrade onto the back of one of the few calm horses. Ulrik lashed Canute to the beast with scraps of cloth and rope.
“Find me at the moon flower meadows by the Vogol Forest,” he whispered, then slapped the horse on the rump. The creature reeled onto his hind legs and sprinted away from the fighting.
Ulrik turned back to the scene of the fighting at caught a glimpse of Argmak who was occupied trampling a Ruvenian scout. He whistled for his horse to come, who obeyed after the scout had ceased to move. Ulrik scrambled onto his horse and charged back into the fighting with a great, “Hurrah!” The two charged into a group of mounted soldiers. Ulrik stood in the stirrups as he readied his sword.
Suddenly, from the group of soldiers came a enormous ‘Bang!’ and flash of light. Argmak screamed and reeled, sending Ulrik flying off the saddle. In a frenzy, the horse fled. The beast ran and wailed without a thought to his rider, whose foot was stuck in the stirrup and was now dragged behind, unmoving. The beast ran, following an old road that he could only hope led away from the Ruvenians.
Ulrik came to when the horse had found a safe place to rest. His foot was still stuck in the stirrup and his clothes were torn, bloody, and covered in dirt and some of the skin on his shoulder had been scraped away from the extended drag. He was surrounded by people, staring at him like a menagerie bird.
“He looks like a planes man!”
“Look at the blood!”
“Oh my, is he injured?”
“Don’t touch him! Look at all those weapons. He’ll cut your hands off!”
Argmak was drinking happily from a trough of water outside of an old, run-down tavern.
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Post by retrias on Mar 3, 2016 14:38:23 GMT
Dirk slowly approached the stage where the red haired man sings in the tavern , he clapped his hand repeatedly "Hello good sir , are you by chance a bard looking for work ? " Dirk depends entirely on instinct and his experience of recruiting people like this, this guy obviously lived long enough , and his singing was putting it bluntly unattractive so this would mean that he had another job ,maybe a rogue or other unsavory type when they fight , and if he is a bard he prolly knows the lay of land around. Dirk continued his pitch " I am in search of brave adventurer for hire, the pay will be negotiable with yours truly" Dirk pointed at himself "My name is Dirk Westerth, I am a traveling merchant and adventurer, I came to search this lands for new opportunity to expand. You Sir looked like the kind of man I am looking for in this ventures" Dirk extended his hand onward to the bard infront of him
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Post by Kuma on Mar 6, 2016 5:03:45 GMT
“Oh! A job opportunity! Lady Luck is smiling to you once again old man” Garret thought to himself as he bowed with overly courtly mannerism. –Good Night sire and might all the gods praise your generosity.- The Crimson Haired Bard placed his lute on the leather straps of his back with a single movement as he stood back up from the bow. He moved his hands a lot as he spoke, adding a visual flair and emphasis to every word he said. –I’ll work for you sire, my talents with the sword are even more legendary that any of the stories I can tell around the fireplace of a tavern, so you can count on me.-
Maybe it seemed too easy to convince Garret, but when a job falls on your lap after 6 months of scrapping by singing in taverns and getting some “help” from the local female nobles in exchange of some “favors” was getting old and not very lucrative. – My name is Garret Van Schwarzstein, a magnificent bard with songs that will raise your spirits, an extraordinary fencer who isn't afraid of danger and a sage of the streets who knows them inside out.- A smirk and a mischievous light on his eyes clearly showed he wasn't being completely serious on his introduction. -I know every road and every town in 3 months of travel around this place.- Maybe he was exaggerating, he knew the warm beds of barmaids in that radius, not the full city, but getting information was part of the job. |
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Post by HungryHunter on Mar 6, 2016 7:18:27 GMT
Dolun looked through her pack. No food, not much water. Some money, although she doubted it would be good here. She sighed and closed it up, turning her gaze to the treetops. Maybe there was fruit. Her fruitless search was interrupted by a tug on her leg. Dammit. Her peace was over. "Hey! Dolun, sir! Hey!" The sleepy little drow called up her. "Come on, we need to help him!" She declared, pointing at the road. Dolun turned just in time to see a passing horse dragging a man behind it. The man was clearly not in the best of shape, blood flecking his trail.
"We don't need to do anything." Dolun knew it was hopeless, and was already bending to pick up her pack. "You don't mean that. Come on!" Distmer grabbed her own pack and ran after the horse, Dolun grumbling and following as Distmer knew she would. The crowd at least had cleared to make way for the charging horse, giving them a clear path.
Within a minute, they found the horse still by the tavern. The people gathered around blocked Distmer's view, but she could guess what they were crowding near. Dolun cleared her throat, sounding like a rockslide. The people skirted away to let Distmer step in. She knelt, looking the man over. Her eyes lingered on the holes in his clothes and the blood smeared across them. It looked like it wasn't just getting drug that had hurt him. She only noticed his eyes were open when she reached to remove his clothing so she could access his wounds. "Ah!" She yelped and scrambled back. "Uh... hi." She pulled her hood down, but it was too late. If he had bothered to look up at all while she examined him before, he would have seen skin so pale as to be near translucence and ears pointed like a horned owl. Her face looked like a cloud, a bit strange and puffy, with fluffy hair and eyes as blue as the sky.
"How did you get hurt? And what's that?" She pointed at Argmak. Her voice was filled with wonder. What a strange creature! She looked back down at the damaged man and her eyes widened. "Oh! I forgot! You're hurt! I'm a cleric of Aisil! I can help!" She raised the ornate disk from her chest and waved it, light gleaming off of it to reflect a red sun on the side of the bar.
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Post by debauchedsloth on Mar 6, 2016 8:49:53 GMT
"Oh..." Ulrik stared at the cloaked woman kneeling over him. "A spirit..." He blinked away some dirt and blood in his eyes and stared all around him in a daze. If he had the energy, he would have inspected those pointed ears, but instead, Ulrik reached out towards the strange elf and grabbed the edge of her cloak. He seemed almost disappointed for a moment as he let go of the elf's cloak and let his hand drop to the ground. "I hoped I was in another life."
Ulrik began to sit up to inspect his foot, still stuck in Argmak's stirrup, but cried out in agony with the slightest move. "You damned stupid beast!" He cursed, wiggling his foot frantically as he remained flat on his back. Ulrik looked back to the strange woman and said to her, "Please, Witch Doctor, spend your time on a worthwhile patient." He breathed in deeply and forced himself through the pain to sit up and unhook his foot. Using Argmak as a crutch, Ulrik rose to his feet and gingerly stood while favouring the leg he had been dragged from. Affectionately, he patted Argmak and proceeded to inspect the horse for injury. Besides some scrapes he seemed fine.
Suddenly, Ulrik felt the blood drain from his face as he remembered. "Canute!" He breathed. "Oh gods what have I done! Our people... Where am I?" He looked around frantically, wincing at the pain of the sudden movements and caught sight of a massive woman twice the height of himself. His face grew even paler and he froze, remembering the stories of his ancestors and the giants and the slaughter his people faced hundreds of years ago. But those were just legends, right? Stories that Papa and Mama would tell to keep the children close to the Blue Waters and away from the mountains.
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Post by retrias on Mar 6, 2016 10:47:52 GMT
Dirk was mildly stunned from the introduction that Garreth gave him, the man were very expressive and enthusiastic about himself and quickly accepted Dirks offer, not like he hasn't seen this before though, "Ah How wonderful it is ! I seems to have chosen the right one for the task" Dirk reevaluated the man in his mind, "One of them singing fencers maybe ? A fallen out noble? His bow didnt look like that of a merchant servile ones and more to that of one that shows overbearing respect, quick with his hand too, well better than his lute playing ability , may have gotten gold here" Dirk listened to the Garret advertisement about his person,before continuing "Ah yes of course , a bard with true knowledge in his head , it is rare to see such sight of a bard that knows about the street as well that of lore, most didnt even study about those around them" Dirk noticed the man havent eaten well for quite sometime and decided to... protect his assets " Well then to celebrate this partnership, as accorded in the tradition of my land I shall treat you to a meal, let us eat at a more respectable establishment " Dirk pointed at a general direction before a horse ran past the window of the run down tavern dragging a man, then some time later were followed by a drow and a female giant.
Dirk scratched his cheek before pointing at the direction they were running his eye were confused " May I ask something Sir Garret, is that kind of view a common thing in this part of the world ? A foreground drow, a female giant chasing a rather large horse dragging a man " Dirks question were half genuine and half in total confusion from what he usually now of towns the likes of these, drows that usually stays underground were up and running out, a giant not really a sociable creature or intelligent running with it, and then the large horse dragging a man which Dirk ascertain himself werent all that uncommon in the world but here of all place? " So not only these place were filled savages, monster and ghosts, it is also filled with this sort of thing... I know I want a misfit band but..." Dirk muttered under his breath looking at the glass window with his finger still outstretched
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Post by Kuma on Mar 7, 2016 5:10:48 GMT
-I would very much like that sire.- The Crimson Bard bowed once again showing his gratitude and then proceeded to follow his newfound employer. Yet as soon as they left the rundown establishment they encountered a scene too bizarre to be real. The merchant was the first to react, trying to get an answer for this strange occurrence from Garret’s large array of bardic and street knowledge. But that wouldn’t be possible, as the Crimson Bard pointed out.
-I must admit that I’m as confused and flabbergasted by this display of such a heterogeneous group as you are sire. - Garret was clearly as baffled as Dirk, looking at the drow and the giant walking through the street.
-I will also add I find this situation deeply intriguing and maybe story worthy, with your permission, of course, might I get near to them and ask them about their circumstances?- Garret showed a charming smile, with only a hint of snark, as he talked. –Whatever brought such group into this side of the world must be momentous or maybe even mythical.- The Crimson Bard, awaited, maybe too eagerly, for Dirk’s approval.
He wasn't buying half of what he was saying, but a group so varied could only mean adventures of the first caliber, and as much as he tried to hide it behind songs and charm, the spark of heroism laying dormant deep within him was dangerously close of turning into a raging fire once again, like it was during his times as the "Silver Dragon" hero of the people. |
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Post by HungryHunter on Mar 7, 2016 5:53:40 GMT
Distmer grabbed for her mace when her cloak was grabbed. It took a moment to sort out that it wasn't a threat. Living underground had made her sensitive to things jumping out at her. She gently lowered the mace, hitching it to her side once more. "Please, be reasonable. You're hurt bad. You should have some wine and food at least." She grabbed her wineskin. "Absolutely not. We haven't enough for ourselves. Speaking of which..." Dolun interrupted her small companion. She looked around at the crowd around her. "Where's the nearest trading post?" She grumbled. Her experience wasn't that of a central market to a town. Her life was that of tribes who traveled to the posts at the mountain passes for any goods they wanted. She didn't seem to notice the plainsman's response to her. She had gotten used to this sort of reaction over her travels through human lands.
"Can I at least make sure that animal is okay?" Distmer again pointed at Argmak. She could tell from here it was fine, but perhaps she could get close to the injured man again and convince him to let her help. She couldn't just let him run off. Even if it didn't tear holes in her heart to see anybody suffer, she was madly curious about how he ended up like this. She couldn't let him get away!
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Post by debauchedsloth on Mar 7, 2016 7:27:25 GMT
Cautiously, Ulrik pried his eyes from the giant, who seemed harmless enough, and looked back to the elf. Although Argmak looked fine, his vision was too blurry and his head too foggy to catch every injury the horse incurred. "Fine," Ulrik said to Distmer, "You can treat Argmak." As long as Argmak was okay, he could travel to the edges of the steppes and find his scattered clan and find Canute. Ulrik felt a sharp twinge of pain from his wounds and he leaned on Argmak as a crutch.
"Where am I?" Ulrik asked the strange duo through deep and pained breaths. "And... who are you, Witch Doctor, and who is your... friend?" Slowly, Ulrik's mind was beginning to clear and he grew more and more apprehensive towards the strange duo. Were they Ruvenians too? Not likely, or they would have killed or captured him at first sight. His clothes, though tattered, torn, and blood covered were unmistakably barbarian, and the blue sash (now almost brown from dirt) around his waste was an indicator of his tribe to the trained eye. His weapons and his horse clearly marked him a warrior, and the great big fur steppe hat stored in a sack on his horse's back (along with a few provisions and clothes) was a clear indicator of his status as a leader. Luckily he had stored the heirloom away in his sack before the battle with the Ruvenians. Whoever they were, they certainly weren't farmers. Perhaps explorers or mercenaries?
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Post by retrias on Mar 7, 2016 12:14:16 GMT
"Yes Sir Garret , I too am interested in that group , usually in my ventures these kinds of thing mark an auspicious start" Dirk replied immediately to Garret his eye gleaming with interest, in his mind he agreed with dirks line of thought that this kind of thing will lead to adventure, but it continues and branches off to a different direction leading to the thing that dirks loves the most, his only true god -'money' Dirk opened the door and followed the trail made by giant and a horse going around town, before long he arrived at where they have stopped , the sight of a giant and a drow cleric fixing up a horse while there is a bruised and battered man further confuses him "They would actually fix the horse first ? Cant they see the man is hurt ?" Dirk looked again at the wounded man , his clothes were in tatter but they were obivously non Ruvenian, he has a weapon too and from a closer look a war horse.
Dirk stopped and said with a whisper to Garret "Halt sir Garret, look closely at them. The wounded man is obviously a warrior of some sort and not from Ruvenia , the giant is... well a giant, and that is a drow and while I defer to your knowledge about their race , in my life I never had any good dealing with drows. They are never the friendliest sort, 5 tried to eat me and another wanted to sacrifice me to their god. We need a plan to approach them" Dirk who had read the documents made by the Ruvenian of his target realized that the man was from a local tribe, while he look like he is on his last legs and Dirk is confident that he can finish them man off and get it sorted out, he had another plan concerning this tribal man
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Post by Kuma on Mar 9, 2016 22:31:56 GMT
-I admit I know next to nothing about the Elves who Dwell underground, or at least not enough to properly weight in an opinion about her presence in the surface.- As there was no point in lying, nothing to gain from, Garret was uncharacteristically honest about his own knowledge. The Crimson Bard smiled charmingly to his newfound employer. –Don’t you worry sire, I can start small talk with anything that moves and talks in this world.- He bowed to Dirk and walked towards the Drow Female, with his best smile and his most elegant stride.
-Excuse me miss?- Garret talked calmly, in a display of manners that seemed a bit bizarre in the current situation. –It seem you and your varied group of companions seem to be in a plight, so I wondered if I could help.- The Crimson Bard bowed with great ceremony. –Garret Van Schwarzstein is my name, might I be of assistance?- Hopefully the Drow wouldn’t attack, Garret wasn’t a hopeful man and as he bowed he had the hand on his back grasping the hilt of a dagger he carried hanging from his belt, hidden behind the rim of his jacket. |
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Post by HungryHunter on Mar 10, 2016 2:17:10 GMT
As Distmer expected, the horse was in far better shape than its rider. A few nicks marked its body, unlike Ulrik's shoulder abrasion and possibly broken ankle. "You're in... a town?" She didn't know the name of the village they were in, if it even had one. "As for us, I'm Distmer and that's Dolun of tribe Gon. We're outcasts!" Dolun rolled her eyes. "I got kicked out of my clan for helping her and she got kicked out of hers cause she wanted to leave. So she got what she wanted, but also they tried to kill her. How'd this animal Argmak get hurt? Did you and it get in a fight? With each other?" "Enough, Distmer." Dolun interrupted. "Get it over with so we can find our breakfast."
Distmer nodded and held up her medallion, feeling its warmth in her hands. Before she could call upon her god, Garret stepped in. "Hm? Oh, we're not companions. I just want to help him. But he's only letting me help the horse. Who are you? Ohhh, are you a musician!?" She beamed at the lute on his back. Her own tribe didn't have the capacity to make or repair instruments, and they rarely ended up underground. "What's it called? Can you play it? What songs do you know?" The injured man was entirely forgotten in her need for music.
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