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Thread: A Call for Revolution

  1. #11
    Pikeman Bloogle's Avatar
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    ((And so the revolution begins.))

    The city of Andrysel was abuzz with activity. Merchants prepared their wares in the pre-dawn gloom while orphan children began a long days work for scraps of food or gold from their harsh masters. The last of the nights drunkards were still lay in the gutters, an unsightly obstacle best avoided by those with somewhere to be. As the sun continued to rise over the horizon and the castle spires, twisted shadows cloaked the market squares like the claws of a feral beast.

    It was just a normal morning for the capital and it's citizens but for one small factor. Today Rael was not seen amongst the throng of people. He had no time to barter for a lavish breakfast of eels and turnips, instead the would-be assassin was content with a stale hunk of bread and some old cheese he had found in his cupboard that morning. As he sat at his old, scorch marked table he re-read the small slip of paper for the hundredth time. It had only a name and a place upon it but to Rael it was the most important thing he had ever read.

    Garrian Valachi. 203 Crown Lane.

    With a smirk Rael remarked to himself that the address on the paper was provided only because this was his first target, not that he really needed it. Valachi was a well known name to those who had run the streets in their youth. A harsh man, Valachi was the most prominent of the capitals merchants, favoured by the crown for his lavish parties and large donations. As a result he could get away with doing whatever he pleased, from tax dodging to experimenting with dark magic. It was the latter that had got the attention of the Andrysel underworld.

    The merchant would boast about his almost supernaturally loyal workers and a bit of digging into his actions led the underworld to one conclusion.

    Garrian Valachi had a relic of his own, or at least part of one, and was using it to dominate the minds his 'staff'. That was something that the city would not tolerate. And it seemed Rael had been chosen to put an end to it.
    BonzaiBannana: A giant loophole to pubic safety

  2. #12

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    It was still bright and early in the morning when Arkan awoke from his slumber. With a nimble sweep his legs he let himself slide of the tree branch he had chosen as a bed. The tree was not as comfy as the ones back home but it sufficed for the purpose it was needed for. He was lucky he had shot those rabits those few days ago. It provided him with a decent addition to the dried fruits and unrisen bread he had bought at the last town he was at. But one could only eat so much dried rabitmeat before getting sick of it.
    With a sigh he ruffled in the small bag he had strapped on his back for the map. The blasted thing had proved itself to be hopelessly out of date. The old coots at the trainingground haddnt updated it since the original was drafted 2000 years ago. But atleast some of the roads and villages were still arround, albeit a rather bit larger or more deserted then they were supposed to be.
    Looking of the scribbled runes and small glyphs he could decipher that he should be close to a city named Andrysel near the forrest.
    With a piece of dried meat still in his mouth he placed the map back in his bag and swung it on his back alongside his quiver and bow before striding swiftly towards the place the city would be.

  3. #13
    Natarian Knight lucky number 13's Avatar
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    Constantine drifted through streets of contradiction. The cities of the world were much the same, a thought he pondered as he walked down roads filled with the most unfortunate of humanity mere footsteps away from riches beyond their wildest dreams, merchants both honest and foul satisfied themselves with the knowledge that though they weren't as rich as they wanted, they were much richer than any other they cast their eyes upon and soon to be richer still. This was as much a crime in his opinion as the wanton destruction and cruelty of mages and conjurers, but there were many men dedicated to addressing that wrong, or at least spreading the gains a little further.

    To his amusement his target here combined the worst aspects of both worlds; this merchant, A Vallachi it appeared, possessed a relic of great and terrible power, power this merchant was abusing to the best of his abilities. Such an opportunity was not to be passed up, even though the difficulties inherent in this target were many. His favoured means of victory were much harder here in some ways; unlike the close-knit community of a village where a single will could sway the entire group into a mob the people of the town were much more concerned with their own personal status and less likely to respond to incitement without good cause.

    Despite the wild rumours and generic hatred of the upper class the people here were too fearful of repercussions and too awed by any display of power to be rallied swiftly, he would have to perform more subtle methods here. Starting with a visit to this tavern; the greatest storehouse of information in any city.
    [20:59:37] shadowspirrit: logic dictates that i should now kill you

  4. #14

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    The sun was already high at noon when Arkan reached the edge of the forrest with the citygates insight. He could feel the energy bristling from the place, energy looming over it in a dark depressing cloud. It made him sick to the very core of his being. How could beings be so cruel to eachother and more importantly to the very nature that sustained them? Everything was rushed and about money. But he needed to go to this place, as much as he loathed being in places such as this. But he was told it was good for his development and training to spend time amongs the other races.
    now what did those greybeards told me about human cities. Arkan thought hard about his the old stories told to him. If only he could remember it more clearly. With flashes his mind flared to live, weaving the memorie together from the loose thoughts. An old saying began to form as he softly recited it in his mind
    When in a city of humans you are present, do not take the dark decent.
    Be strong just and kind, but be ware to whom you speak your mind.
    Arguments are met with gold, dagger and sword, never settle things on your own accord.
    String your coins close and high, for otherwise it will be cut before a sigh.

    Or atleast it was something like that. He never did had the patience to listen to the ramblings of those old coots.

  5. #15
    Pikeman Bloogle's Avatar
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    ((For Shadow))

    Graep leant lazily against the city walls, absently watching the crowd of visitors pass beneath the gates. Merchants, sellswords and local villagers made up the bulk of the procession. Lately some of the villagers bore obvious signs of attack, troubled by bandits on their travels. More alarming were the burn marks. Bandits weren't known for fighting with fire but if they were, dangerous times were ahead.

    Bored of watching, Graep let his eyes drift over the fields bordering the forests and was surprised to see an elf strolling out towards the city. With a nudge of his halberd, he alerted the other guards. ''Elfboy looks a bit lost, eh?'' The other guards started laughing to themselves.

    ''As long as he doesn't cause any trouble. He's probably never been to a city before.'' The Dwarven guard spat on the floor. ''He looks like a real tree hugger that one. Damn trees.''
    BonzaiBannana: A giant loophole to pubic safety

  6. #16
    Thorned Warrior indian Power's Avatar
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    (( Is it still possible to join in? Hard to find a good and long RPG this days))
    (( Name: Vragh "Claw"
    Gender: Male
    Race*: Dwarf
    Age: 425
    Physical Appearance: Vragh is one of the classical dwarves. About 1.5m high, his belly is the common dwafr size. Dark black beard and long black beard decorate his face to the scary look he hopes to achieve. He usually wears his bearskin jacket and earings made out of bear claws. Thats where he got his nickname "claw".
    Background:Vragh is one of the dwarves that haven't forgotten the good times. He did not include in the city with multiple races mixed together, and lives far away from all this crowd. His cottage is based on the outhill of a huge mountain called Blackhorn. In golden times, Vragh was a well now machine builder and inventor of new traps and weapons. His own style made him unique. He mixed new technology with ancient weapons. His cottage is well defended by his inventions.
    Vragh was one of the Elite in dwarf country. He was wealthier, but he was too unsocial. His machines were his life, and no one could stood in the way of that.

    But all that changed, when he lived alone for a century. No conversation made him bored, no buyers made him poor, and no alchohol made him sad. He remembered the good days, and his path on was chosen from that day on. "Rebuild the old countries"))
    Insane is registered trademark of Terror Productions and owned by Pain. It is strictly forbidden to abuse this trademark in any sort of matter. Any violation of this may result in your termination.

  7. #17
    Pikeman Bloogle's Avatar
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    ((You can join whenever you like, this isn't exclusive
    Your character is fine, just remember that you either start in Andrysel or have a reason to be nearly there.))
    BonzaiBannana: A giant loophole to pubic safety

  8. #18
    Thorned Warrior indian Power's Avatar
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    (( But yes, ofc ))
    Claw was resisisting the dark streets and markets of the capital. But this was his destination.

    Andrysel Court Library

    He stepped towards the entrence, whispering an old dwarf chant under his beard. He had some old books 'bout magic and history of it at home, but it was all common knowledge. He was searching for something else. Books 'bout the relics, the true source of power. His old friend from the capital told him 'bout the rummor of a Merchant, possesing relic of somesort. But when Claw heard, what the relic does, he just ignored it and let his mind pass on.

    The old Golem book said that dwarf king had possesed a relic, that could transform any metal into any other metal, and could create unique Golems, which did all the given tasks if in their power.... Now that, that was a powerful relic.

    Becouse of that relic, he came to the city library. Maybe he would find its location in the scripts, since the last dwarf king vanished 'bou 120 years ago, and with him, all the dwarf treasures.
    Insane is registered trademark of Terror Productions and owned by Pain. It is strictly forbidden to abuse this trademark in any sort of matter. Any violation of this may result in your termination.

  9. #19

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    Just as Arkan reached the edge of the forrest a small wimper of a whine was heard. As he turned his head towards the noise the whine turned into a semi-growl. At first he saw nothing, but then a bit of russling in the shrubbery caught his attention. Moving slowly with one hand on one of his daggers he moved the bush only to see a small wolfcub covered in blood, scrapes and even small bitewounds. A small glance told him enough, it had been abandoned by its pack. Various scraps of ratfur and rodentbones gave him a idea of what had attacked the little thing. With his free hand he reached for his last scrap of dried meat, only to trow it towards the cub with a gentle smile. A sniff and a blink of a eye later the scrap was gone, leaving nothing but a severely wounded cub chewing and looking at the wood elf strangely.
    Slowly the elf extended his hand, letting his scent fill the nose of the wolf before gently patting it on its head, the only place not covered in bitemarks and scratches as he slowly wispered to it.
    "Come now little one, please trust another for just one more time. Trust me, please little one. It is not yet time for you to sleep. Let me take care of your wounds so you can roam freely once again."
    The cub blankly stared at Arkan for a few moments, blinking with its gleaming yellow eyes a few times. Just as Arkan decided to retreat, giving up on the little critter it shuffled forward. Limping heavely and favoring its hind left leg.
    Smiling the young elf picked up the cub taking very much care not to hurt the little critter to much. Not caring for staining his clothes with blood or dirt he continued his walk towards the town with the cub resting in his arms.

    *15 minutes later @ the southern gate near the forrest*
    As he aproached Arkan saw a few guards. Altough one was one of those disgusting walking beersoaked beards he needed directions and he didnt feel like wandering lost in a place like that.
    "Greetings gentlemen, could any of you direct me to a herblorist? I am in need of some medicinal herbs that i was not able to find along this lovely road here."

  10. #20

    Default A New Beginning

    Name: Clyde Stirling
    Race: Humans
    Age: 16
    Physical Appearence:
    6'2"
    215 pounds
    Dark brown hair with sky blue eyes
    Minimal armor worn, bear fur boots, and animal skin cloak with hood. wields two short crossbows and a short sword.

    Background: Clyde was raised in the small town of Barnaby 20 miles to the west of Andrysel. There as a young boy (10) he joined the local fighters to protect his one crush and childhood love Allison Grommel a petite girl that had a love for animals. As he gained experience dualing with the fighters of Barnaby he learned valuable tactics and deception techniques to thwart many a foe and began adventuring with the fighters at the age of 15. He had been happy with his life until one night a year ago Allison was found with her throat slit along with her parents in their house. He conducted his own investigation for half a year now with not many answers coming from inside the town other then a shadowy cloaked figure seen entering a welcoming Grommel house earlier the night of the incident. Clyde has decided to set out to Andrysel to continue his investigation and attempt to track down the cold blooded killer.

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