mps42
First Post
Here is where "play" will take place. For recruiting and game info, see
Rogues Gallery
In Character
OOC
Rogues Gallery
In Character
OOC
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Cold Truths (part 1: The Missing Duke)
mps42
First Post
A cold fog lies over the city of Melinar, reaching its’ chilly tendrils into homes, businesses, and the warmest of clothing. The city streets are teeming, though. Full of people going to and from shops and places of business, people arguing and fighting, the city watch with their rhythmically tramping feet, trying to keep it all from degenerating into a giant melee and people begging for food.
Food, even the merest scrap, has almost become worth more than the coin used to buy it and only the very rich can afford it in large quantities. Those who can afford to buy food have taken to shopping with armed guards to protect them and anyone seen carrying it is likely to be the target of many the pickpocket or street thug.
Even though the Generations war is, technically over, blood-red hatred seethes just below the surface and can, and often does, boil over at any point and time.
Last, but not least, here in the early days of September, the seers are forcasting snow within the next fortnight.
It is in this tableau of anger, hunger and misery that our story takes place. Newly crowned Prince Lenric has ascended the throne over his doddering father, King Thendon, now too feeble even to sit upright. As his first official act, he has called a ducal council to confer with the dukes and major landowners to see how their provinces fare and ask for a consensus on how to proceed. All but one has responded. That one is Duke Baerd, one of the former Kings strongest supporters. No one is sure why he has not responded. Seeing as how the city watch is strapped just keeping the peace, the Prince has offered 200 Silver Hawks, over 6 months regular wages for all but the most skilled, for anyone willing to go and investigate. Even more tempting, he has offered to feed those who return…
You sit in the courtyard of Prince Lenrics’ keep, trying to keep warm over a meager fire. There are several pockets of men and women in the courtyard. All lured, just like you, by the promise of money and food. Your group, A small Halfling, A war veteran, A tall handsome man, A battle scarred northerner, A man in heavy armor, and an apparent wild man with his wolf companion, strangely, do not seem as strange or as desperate as some of the others.
You’ve sat here for at least several hours, patiently waiting as group after group goes into the keep, presumably to meet the prince for any final instructions.
*** Go ahead and introduce yourselves to one another, chat a bit, etc. while I continue to get my poop gathered, AKA Tag:group. ***
Food, even the merest scrap, has almost become worth more than the coin used to buy it and only the very rich can afford it in large quantities. Those who can afford to buy food have taken to shopping with armed guards to protect them and anyone seen carrying it is likely to be the target of many the pickpocket or street thug.
Even though the Generations war is, technically over, blood-red hatred seethes just below the surface and can, and often does, boil over at any point and time.
Last, but not least, here in the early days of September, the seers are forcasting snow within the next fortnight.
It is in this tableau of anger, hunger and misery that our story takes place. Newly crowned Prince Lenric has ascended the throne over his doddering father, King Thendon, now too feeble even to sit upright. As his first official act, he has called a ducal council to confer with the dukes and major landowners to see how their provinces fare and ask for a consensus on how to proceed. All but one has responded. That one is Duke Baerd, one of the former Kings strongest supporters. No one is sure why he has not responded. Seeing as how the city watch is strapped just keeping the peace, the Prince has offered 200 Silver Hawks, over 6 months regular wages for all but the most skilled, for anyone willing to go and investigate. Even more tempting, he has offered to feed those who return…
You sit in the courtyard of Prince Lenrics’ keep, trying to keep warm over a meager fire. There are several pockets of men and women in the courtyard. All lured, just like you, by the promise of money and food. Your group, A small Halfling, A war veteran, A tall handsome man, A battle scarred northerner, A man in heavy armor, and an apparent wild man with his wolf companion, strangely, do not seem as strange or as desperate as some of the others.
You’ve sat here for at least several hours, patiently waiting as group after group goes into the keep, presumably to meet the prince for any final instructions.
*** Go ahead and introduce yourselves to one another, chat a bit, etc. while I continue to get my poop gathered, AKA Tag:group. ***
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Krug
Newshound
Woden starts speaking first. "I am Woden, a man of the wild. I would have scorn for these practises, but this... interests me. And this is my companion," he says, gesturing at the wolf. The wolf eye's glitters, not used to human interaction despite being Woden's constant companion the past few weeks.
Argent Silvermage
First Post
"Hello Woden. I am Tyler Grieves."
The human stands up while introducing himself. Even wrapped as he is in thick but ragged furs he looks cold. The features are drawn and his face sunken as if he has seen true horror and only just survived the encounter. He has the bearings and the sound of his voice mark him as young even for a warrior but his gray white hair and pale skin make him look far older than his 17 years
"I will stand at your side, with my blade at the ready and my faith as my shield."
He practically falls back into his chair his armor clanging as he does so. He wraps the furs around him closer.
The human stands up while introducing himself. Even wrapped as he is in thick but ragged furs he looks cold. The features are drawn and his face sunken as if he has seen true horror and only just survived the encounter. He has the bearings and the sound of his voice mark him as young even for a warrior but his gray white hair and pale skin make him look far older than his 17 years
"I will stand at your side, with my blade at the ready and my faith as my shield."
He practically falls back into his chair his armor clanging as he does so. He wraps the furs around him closer.
Lazlow
First Post
Staring intently into the fire, the halfling is startled when the towering wild man next to him stands and speaks. He is even more startled as he realizes, apparently for the first time, that this man's "companion" is a wild animal.
What have I gotten myself into? he thinks.
He keeps a wary eye on the wolf as another human stands and introduces himself. He listens to this young man's noble pledge of support and pious statement of faith, and cynically begins to roll his eyes at the niavete - but stops short when he sees the man. Haggard and gaunt, this man is still somewhat young. What horrors could do this? The halfling's cynicism, which by now is simply a reflexive response, gives way to sorrow, and he does not know why.
Well... Let's hope you don't regret that pledge too soon.
He watches the strange young man sink back into his chair, then stands, pulling back his hood to reveal straight, dark hair framing a delicately featured face. The broad, friendly smile hides the worry etched around this halflings brown eyes, but just barely.
"Ahem, yes. Well, since introductions seem to be in order, please... Call me Swipe." He bows gracefully to the group, a bow that has obviously come from much practice, and pulls back his well-made but weatherbeaten cloak with a flourish. He nods at each member of the group in turn. "Pleased to meet you. All of you..." His voice trails off for a moment as he stares back into the fire. A quick chill overtakes him and he shivers out of his reverie, running a hand through his hair which promptly falls back exactly the way it was. He then pulls up his hood and bundles himself back into his cloak, slips back into the shadow of the large druid and is silent.
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OOC: These are thoughts, and these are spoken words.
What have I gotten myself into? he thinks.
He keeps a wary eye on the wolf as another human stands and introduces himself. He listens to this young man's noble pledge of support and pious statement of faith, and cynically begins to roll his eyes at the niavete - but stops short when he sees the man. Haggard and gaunt, this man is still somewhat young. What horrors could do this? The halfling's cynicism, which by now is simply a reflexive response, gives way to sorrow, and he does not know why.
Well... Let's hope you don't regret that pledge too soon.
He watches the strange young man sink back into his chair, then stands, pulling back his hood to reveal straight, dark hair framing a delicately featured face. The broad, friendly smile hides the worry etched around this halflings brown eyes, but just barely.
"Ahem, yes. Well, since introductions seem to be in order, please... Call me Swipe." He bows gracefully to the group, a bow that has obviously come from much practice, and pulls back his well-made but weatherbeaten cloak with a flourish. He nods at each member of the group in turn. "Pleased to meet you. All of you..." His voice trails off for a moment as he stares back into the fire. A quick chill overtakes him and he shivers out of his reverie, running a hand through his hair which promptly falls back exactly the way it was. He then pulls up his hood and bundles himself back into his cloak, slips back into the shadow of the large druid and is silent.
========================================
OOC: These are thoughts, and these are spoken words.
Aleran
Aleran leans on his staff watching his new group of associates, sadly no women were present, that would have made the trip more... interesting at the very least.
With some amusement he watchs as some of the others introduce themselves, until Tyler stands up and give his speech... "He will be trouble, going to want to be saving the all the would be damsels in distress we meet on the way." He thinks to himself as he shakes his head slightly.
With a lull in the talking Aleran steps more into the light of the fire, with a smile and a slight bow he address the group.
"Greetings, I am Aleran Gaener. It is my pleasure to meet you all, with all our various skills I am sure that the prince will choose us for this most critical mission."
Aleran leans on his staff watching his new group of associates, sadly no women were present, that would have made the trip more... interesting at the very least.
With some amusement he watchs as some of the others introduce themselves, until Tyler stands up and give his speech... "He will be trouble, going to want to be saving the all the would be damsels in distress we meet on the way." He thinks to himself as he shakes his head slightly.
With a lull in the talking Aleran steps more into the light of the fire, with a smile and a slight bow he address the group.
"Greetings, I am Aleran Gaener. It is my pleasure to meet you all, with all our various skills I am sure that the prince will choose us for this most critical mission."
Argent Silvermage
First Post
Tyler places hands on his mug of hot cider and sighs. "Well, What could be keeping the others. I was told there were to be a few more of us on this expedition." His hands look weak and frail against the dark blue of his jerkin and the black bear furs.
"So tell me something of youselves my companions. I am a warrior who has dedicated his life to the eradication of the undead and those who would desecrate the dead."
"So tell me something of youselves my companions. I am a warrior who has dedicated his life to the eradication of the undead and those who would desecrate the dead."
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taitzu52
First Post
A ragged stranger has been sitting back from the fire in the darkness. His tattered cloak and tarnished studs on his leather armor indicate that he has seen much in his day. Perhaps too much.
As the cider is poured, he quietly approaches the fire, and the beckoning pitcher. Furs hang from his pelt, some too large and matted to be from recent kills, but still, worn as trophies. "I am Uri.", the man says with a thick Northern accent. His dark eyes scan the group from beneath and unwashed, unshaven face. His many scars are visible now in the flickering firelight. "I come from the north and may be able to help deliver you all from the trials of this unforgiving land."
He pulls a wooden cup from off of his belt and raises his eyebrows at Tyler, hoping for a drink to warm him up.
As the cider is poured, he quietly approaches the fire, and the beckoning pitcher. Furs hang from his pelt, some too large and matted to be from recent kills, but still, worn as trophies. "I am Uri.", the man says with a thick Northern accent. His dark eyes scan the group from beneath and unwashed, unshaven face. His many scars are visible now in the flickering firelight. "I come from the north and may be able to help deliver you all from the trials of this unforgiving land."
He pulls a wooden cup from off of his belt and raises his eyebrows at Tyler, hoping for a drink to warm him up.
Swirling his mug of warmed cider, the stocky veteran pulls a small flask from under his cloak and adds the clear liquid to his cider, capping the flask he slips it back into his cloak drinks deeply from his mug.
"Name's Gerard, better to be in the service of some prince than starving out there," jerking his thumb back towards the entrance of the keep, his coarse voice seems to grate from one too many days breathing the stench of the dead.
"Name's Gerard, better to be in the service of some prince than starving out there," jerking his thumb back towards the entrance of the keep, his coarse voice seems to grate from one too many days breathing the stench of the dead.
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mps42
First Post
Sitting quietly in the cold, damp courtyard forces you to reflect on your lives: How you got here and what will come next in these trying times.
Suddenly, a form emerges from the dense fog, apparently a member of the prince’s guard. "You lot are next" he says, quite obviously exhausted from days of patrol with too little sleep, "But the animal" pointing to Wodens’ wolf companion, "needs to stay here, either guard it yourselves or we can kennel it until your return."
Suddenly, a form emerges from the dense fog, apparently a member of the prince’s guard. "You lot are next" he says, quite obviously exhausted from days of patrol with too little sleep, "But the animal" pointing to Wodens’ wolf companion, "needs to stay here, either guard it yourselves or we can kennel it until your return."
