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Thread: The Sons Always Rise (IC Thread)

  1. #1
    The Man Mormarth's Avatar
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    The Sons Always Rise (IC Thread)

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    The newest RP from Fistpunch Productions


    The Sons Always Rise



    The winds are harsh on the border of the Lost Province, the air brushed with a faint scent of something indescribable, both unnerving and exciting in its other-worldliness. Invigorating to the senses, the winds of adventure blow through the plains, the warm sunlight of mid-afternoon just beginning the slow descent into fire-streaked sunset.

    On the edge of Confederation-Cleoni territory, the small town of Middenton stakes out a wary existence, eyes fixed on the border of the forsaken lands beyond, many of their own sons lured away by the siren song of that ancient land. A village of perhaps six hundred souls, now straining under the weight of recent visitors.

    They are a thrifty folk, these Middentons, fitting, given their nominal Confederate allegiance, tight-fisted in all things, self-reliant, and proud in the manner of frontier folk, yet the Cleoni influence is strong here. No proper churches or temples to be seen, true, but small shrines and offering tables to matters divine or spiritual dot street corners and huddle on stoops.

    Homesteads and farmers dot the surrounding area, livestock, produce and other bounties of the harvest make their way into town by rugged trails, marked by occasional wooden posts to show the way, the roads marked more by the passing of many steps over many years, vegetation worn away by travelers.

    Tailors and grocers and butchers circle the center of town, profit mingling with that spice of Cleoni influence, some spices from the great plantation-monasteries in their interior are found, alongside proud Confederate staples, runic sigils dot the stalls, bringing cooling air, wafting the scent of cooking meat, enticing interested noses.

    No grand artistry are these mystic inscriptions, they are in the focused, workmanlike manner of the Confederation, chiseled briskly and put to work for practical purposes, smiths and scribes in coarse, working clothes, rather than inscribed aprons and flowing robes more common in the older cities of Europa.

    Still, today is a busy day for these townsfolk, as they have a great many guests.

    A legion of tents, organized in neat, sectioned rows is adjacent to the town, banners bearing the Black-and-Gold flap in the gusts, close-faced men with well-maintained armor and weaponry stand at attention around the perimeter.

    A Free Company, one of the many ragged descendants of Legion men left abandoned by the Imperial Collapse, but too proud to follow Cleon's call, they are a familiar sight in Confederate lands, many older men, wizened and scarred, nod in approval at the organized soldiery, they do their predecessors proud.

    They, you, have been camped here for several days, waiting to rendezvous with a Cleoni force and enter the lands beyond.

    The brief rest is appreciated by your fellow Sons, many still nursing injuries from the recent One Month War, some hundred leagues westward, and already some farmhands and idle sons and daughters have approached you, seeking adventure or asylum, to the displeasure of some of the more fortunate in the area.

    Still, you haven't quite warn out your welcome, thanks to your Help Board and patrols driving off the monster raids, and the Cleoni are due within the day. So the Captain, in their infinite wisdom and benevolence, has eased the iron grip on discipline and advanced some pay to allow for some liberty in the village for personal interests and entertainment.

    The Goldenwrought
    Afternoon
    Venn, Lyr, Lorraine


    Heinmeyer eyed the dark-clad soldiery with wary eyes, fighting men were trouble, typically, but these types seemed to know their business well, and as much as he cursed them for luring away some of his barmaids, they paid quickly and generously.

    Still, the recent entries were new, the typically empty tavern filled with a small horde of gilded crows, his brows furrowing as he noted the slim figures of women filling many of the seats, with the occasional brawny man dotted here and there, particularly the taciturn young man who, though the aging barman hadn't heard a word from him, was clearly in charge.

    Lucky bastard.

    He was pretty sure the slip of a girl next to him was too young to drink, but what did he care?

    He poured more of his Appled Ale into another tankard and thanked the stars that he'd at least gotten a new waitress, cute too, even, eager to serve, and unaccompanied.

    Maybe he'd have some better luck with that one.

    Still... She did have her share of quirks, as he watched her gracefully step across the lightly stained floor, tray perched atop her head, hands gripping it tightly.

    She wouldn't let go of that damned thing, for one.


    "Hello-hello! You asked for more jugs?"

    Ah, the main table, with the grumpy-looking guy and the teenager.

    Maybe he should pay some attention, keep losing track of that blonde with the annoying voice, runers were always trouble.

    Market Square
    Afternoon
    Farrah, Mordred, Gunda


    "Mysteries here! Lost relics from the Lost Province! Helradian goods and recovered artifacts, rumored to be from one of the mystical Magisteriums of the Old Empire, runic knowledge, forbidden lore, all right here for low, low prices!"

    The crier bellowed her cant into the square, grimacing at the unimpressed looks her fellow merchants shot her as she continued, mixing it up here and there.

    Friggin yokels, stop in their boonie town for a couple days and they start riding your ass, should be damned grateful! They should be so luck as to be blessed with her presence, the presence of Margaret, Merchant Supreme!

    Or perhaps Shopkeep Supreme? She did need to work on branding, it might give her a few days when the constables catch up with her.

    She smiled through her worries and her heart soared when a group of one of those up-jumped swords-for-hire ambled into the square, they hadn't heard it all yet, maybe she could make a sale?

    Get rid of some of this junk, maybe, it's not doing her any good.

    Smiley up front's got all sorts of nick-knacks hanging off her, maybe she'd be interested in a few more bits and bobs. Though she eyed the looming presence of the Automaton warily, and the broad with the glowy bits hanging off of her was giving her a discerning eye.

    Yeesh, another miser.

    She beamed her sales-smile even brighter, "Come on over, strangers! Got meself some rare things on sale! I've picked up all sorts of secreted loot from over the border, even some of the recovered stuff from Veranza's last expedition! Low prices, cause I got to get this stuff gone quick!"

    Wise-up! The One-Month War
    A group of petty lords rose up against their rich, profligate liege, and displeased with the initial concessions given, rallied their retinues and the many Free Companies that dotted the land to their banners.

    You had the misfortune, due to having provided security during the negotiations, of being caught on a side that was going to lose, the Honorable Duke Henrik gifting you many a wereglid for the many fallen Sons that lined the fields, for all the good it did, cut off as you were from profiteers.

    Still, you showed why the Blackened Gold of the Revenant Sons was to be feared on the battlefield, and was it not for the key intervention of the Count Heathrow, called 'Skyflame', on the third week, the War may have quickly become unprofitable for the enemy coalition.

    Still, in respect for your efforts, he allowed you to pass from his new lands peacefully, gifting you a great many of his own finely bred steeds, 'to speed you on your travels'.

    You got the message, the severed head of your employer helped.

    The Duke's family hostage, his head on a pike, you chose to rise again another day, and departed in good order.

    You lost a good couple hundred in casualties, perhaps a third of that again in desertions, some officers among them.

    You are reduced to perhaps half-strength, maybe two-thirds, if all were pressed.

    You needed work, and as luck would have it, perhaps a god smiled on you, for the Cleoni presented an offer...

  2. #2
    Not always a dragon Draconic's Avatar
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    Market Square
    Afternoon
    Farrah Glennholm

    The colorful stall with the bombastic shopkeep was quick to draw Farrah's attention. She was always a sucker for good showmanship. Although the looks the woman was getting from the other merchants... Hmm... She prepared herself for disappointment. With a smile, naturally. Kept her opponents off their guard, (sometimes) brightened her friends' days, and proven through experience to make one happier in general.

    Looking through the goods in the stall, her eyes lingered briefly on a shelf crammed full of books and scrolls. Some of them looked old, but it was just as likely that they had been dragged through a patch of loose dirt and had tea spilled on their pages. This wouldn't be the first time she was taken in by a crafty merchant, and though she might not have looked it, she did learn her lesson after a while.

    What should she be looking for in a shop that probably wasn't entirely honest? Maybe... best to look for something that didn't need to be genuine. A regular history book or better yet, a few maps that she could compare would do. Something that would help her find some real arcane secrets that she could be certain about, rather than buying...

    " 'Fang of Sengaaras the Immortal...' " she read the label off a sharp tooth-shaped object about the length of a sword. Couldn't be that immortal if it had a giant fang pried out of his mouth. Or alternatively, it might just be a carved elephant tusk. Or plaster... Probably plaster. Was there even a thing called Sengaaras the Immortal? She couldn't recall...

    It really didn't matter to her if she was to be honest with herself. It was pretty, and therefore she kinda wanted it. But it was also going for more than she made in a year, and as amusing a thought as it was, she couldn't exhale money. Ooh, waitasecond, was that quicksteel?! Oh... just powdered silver. Nothing she needed this very instant, and definitely not worth the price. Also, why was it next to a jar of yak hair? Was it at least labelled as yak hair? Yes, yes it was. So, not completely dishonest, but who would want yak hair? It smelled like a cowshed.

    After returning to the book n' scroll shelf, she was disappointed not to find any maps among the visible inventory.

    Going back over to Mordred and Gunda, she made a point to be considerate before she started trying to use money on herself.

    "Let me know if you guys find anything you want at the stall over there," she gestured at the display. "I'll be talking to the proprietor."

    And she walked over to face the merchant.

    "I'm looking for any historical records of Calatine's Empire. I'm also in the market for old maps. Mostly looking for maps. See, I'm—" she cut herself off. No sense playing her whole hand just yet. "—eheheh... something of a history enthusiast. I know, I don't really look the part. It was kind of accidental. I got kinda hooked."

    She probably sounded like an idiot. That suited her just fine. She always liked the part when she got to pounce on the predator.
    Last edited by Draconic; November 20th, 2017 at 09:20 PM. Reason: fixing a typo
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  3. #3
    死徒二十七祖 The Twenty Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors Vritra's Avatar
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    Sir Mordred
    Market Square
    Afternoon


    Ah the rowdiness of the people as they are basked in the warm glow of the ever faithful light of the sun if only I could see such ideals of the good chivalry gives birth to. Let this bustling market place stand as a testament oh foul dragons and bandits for your villainy shall never emerge victorious against righteous strength. Let this town and my fallen benefactors remain forever in my memory, oh goals to strive for, oh shameful failures that I must redeem. I declare on my name, I, Sir Mordred shall forever strive for the goodness you wished for so sleep in the embrace of god …er gods? Mmmm it is troubling when the hallowed books are inconsist-

    “Oh?”

    Turning my head to see just who is calling out I find a rather energetic and loud redheaded maiden. Ah truly beautiful although a knight lives by austerity and charity towards others and so naturally I have no use for th- Oh wait, wait in the hallowed books finding a lost treasure that is now lumped together with collections of shabby knickknacks in unremarkable shops like this is a staple! Oh virtue I shall repay your kindness by not letting this great opportunity remain unseized!

    I would have liked to talk to the fair maiden about her wares but it would be rude and unknightly to interrupt her conversation so for now TO SEARCHING!

  4. #4
    Market Square
    Afternoon
    Gunda

    Barely giving her companions a nod as they both split off in either direction, Gunda's searching gaze tries to find something of worth in this marketplace.

    With the air of someone already resigned to disappointment the blonde gunwoman approaches the hawker. The remaining funds she possesses jealously guarded.

    "Well? What have you?"

    Gunda states flatly after approaching the red-headed hawker. Not quite a display of open hostility, but to a miser like her, no merchant is ever really on her side.

    Perhaps there might be some trinket of value for sale, more likely than not merely a pile of refuse hardly worth her time to look at.
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  5. #5
    The Goldenwrought
    Afternoon
    Venn


    Venn scowled into his empty mug. What a goddam boring way to waste the day away. But in such a small, dreary, sleepy town there wasn't much choice for entertainment. There weren't even any monster raids to fight off, thanks to the regular patrols the Captain enforced.

    After the excitement of the last war died down Venn found himself roped into a promotion and suddenly he was a sergeant with all the responsibilities that it entailed, namely being in charge of 50 sword-wielding idiots. He joined the Sons to fight not babysit. They were big boys who could take care of themselves. Well...most of them were.

    Venn glanced at the young girl next to him. Too young to drink yet here she was sipping a beer. Goddam lightweight. What was her name again? Lyr? She looked about the same age as Mana and Venn would never let his sister even set foot in a--.

    ...

    Ah fuck I need more booze.

    Quote Originally Posted by Waitress
    "Hello-hello! You asked for more jugs?"

    Venn scoffed at the waitress' impeccable timing and gestured for more alcohol.

    He was about to take a drink when he realized that there was someone missing from his table.

    Wasn't there a blonde chick here?

    Eh fuck it.

    Venn drained his mug and started on the new jugs.
    I play hetero every once in awhile
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    [12:21.40] that might be a top tier post[12:21.45] frantic[12:21.47] post of the month, even[12:21.48] this right here[12:21.49] is MC [12:21.56] johnny has nothing on this dude[12:22.00] he's the MC of the nisio half[12:22.12] so wait[12:22.15] [ ] is, after all, my rival character[12:22.16] am i the gag heroine[12:22.20] yes

  6. #6
    The Man Mormarth's Avatar
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    Market Square
    Afternoon


    At the sight of the three of you approaching her stall, the Marketeer does a small jig.

    "Yes, yes, come closer, dear soldiers of fortune! Feast your eyes on the many mysteries of that calamity-stricken land!"

    Magpie-like eyes glitter as she focuses on the new commander, lingering on the trophies and loot dotted around her person.

    "Records, you say? And maps as well, hm? A loyal soldier, so eager to do her part that she'll go out of her way for the company, hm? Or maybe just a hobbyist, a historian out to tease her brain with some old, dusty tomes..."

    Wheat-colored eyes look Farrah over knowingly, before lazily rising upwards.

    "Well~ As you might know, exact records and historical documents from over the border are rare, to understate it, most of them likely buried in old governmental buildings, civic centers, magisteriums, infrastructural, administrative buildings and such."

    For all her airy words, she does seem to know a bit about the ancient land.

    Still, there's something...

    [Trait Activation: Treasure Hunter, Fistful of Dollars]


    "But, you may be in some luck," A scrap of paper is produced from... somewhere, "I picked this up from some scavengers a month ago, they were desperate to get rid of it, so I got it off of em real cheap, I can't read the exact text (old Imperial you know, plus whoever wrote it? Horrible handwriting, just atrocious), but it seems to be a map leading to some sort of stash."

    She looks around a bit furtively, "Truth be told, I've been getting some bad vibes off of this too, maybe that's why the yokels are so grumpy, besides my well-kept appearance and bearing, of course."

    Her eyes lock in on you, "So, what'll it be then? Interested?"

    "My first offer is at least 3 Geld, business is tight, and I'll need to hire passage out before too long.

    Money

    While the many myriad states and polities have piles of different coinage, the typical 'traveler's coin' favored by sellswords, traders and travelers is the Late Imperial Coinage, which can be found all across Europa.

    Brons, silvers and Geld

    10 Brons to a Silver, ten silver to a geld.

    Your pay after every job averages to about five Geld.

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