shadowsworn

New people being accepted, see last page for details

PM me an intro post first. This should be what your first post in the thread will be if I accept you. Integrate your character beckground into the writing, rather than putting it separate.

If I accept you, then you can post. I think I'm pretty lenient. If there are minor mistakes or misconceptions, I'll just pm you back and ask you to correct them before posting. If I really don't think your post works for this RP, I'll tell you that. No offense meant.

So...

Backhistory & Geography:

Lhyr has been a crossroads for migrations for thousands of years. The first people known to have lived in this area were the Tuatha Dha'an, who were loosely organized into a confederation of tribes, and mainly lived in forest villages. Less than five hundred years ago, the armies of the Dhalmoran empire attacked, and after several fierece battles, either drove out or killed most of the Tuatha Dha'an. The city of Mellany was built on the site of the Tuatha Dha'an's final defeat. As time passed, the Dhalmorans also seized the trade port of Eren Fhail, to the east.

Lhyr is bordered by mountains to the north, and to the south. Its climate (to use real world geography) is similar to that of the Balkans. To the near south of Mellany is the River Alan, which eventually runs to the Eastern Sea, south of Eren Fhail. Most of the city's trade passes through this route. The region has good farmland on the northern bank of the River Alan, to the south run forests.

For many years the region existed in peace, and prosperity. But roughly 150 years ago, a civil war came near to destroying the empire, with the old emperor dying, and his heirs vying for the throne. For years, the empire was thrown into chaos, and Eren Fhail seceded from the empire and became a free city. In the end, the empire was divided into two halves, Dhalmor, and Garan, and severely weakened.

Current:

For the past three years, Lhyr has been under attack from the Kingdom of Mark in the southeast, and the Dhalmorans, dealing with intrigue and other wars, have been unable to put a stop tp the invasion. As the story begins, a ceasfire has been negotiated, with Lhyr being handed over to the Kingdom of Mark in return for the hand of the king's daughter being given to one of the emperor's sons, and a promise of mutual respect. The city of Mellany has over the years acquired a sizable population of immigrants from Mark,and there is unrest both between the two peoples in the city, and towards the occupiers. The march into the city is due to take place at roughly midday of this day. Currently its slightly past dawn, and most of the city is just getting up.

You can be fairly free with your writing, just start either within the city or very close by. Nothing outrageous either.

Additional notes: Elves and dwarves are allowed, if you like, some of them have immigrated into the area over time. Magic is allowed, but as a rule, your character shouldn't have very much of it at the starting.

Anything I forgot or didn't make clear, pm me to ask.

Edit: There are firearms in this world, but they're old-fashioned, very slow to reload, expensive, and difficult to find. Not a lot of people have them.


Starting as soon as I feel we have enough people.

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Fieren

A stout, muscled dwarf by the name of Leif strolled down the crowded city streets of Mellany. His face was fairly middle aged, and half of it was blocked by a long, reddish-brownish beard, obviously ungroomed. His long hair banded into a ponytail, and it swished to the sides humorously as he walked. Swung onto his side was an impressive rifle musket, with a nasty mithril bandolier, and a rapier was belted to his side. What was more alien than the marksmen in the sea of traders was his companion. A slightly larger than normal white bengal tiger paced by the dwarf. The animal was foreign to these lands, and was a tamed companion met through Leif's many adventures and oddball jobs. Despite it's protruding fangs, the creature seemed completely docile. Licking its fur, sniffing at amused children as they passed by.
Like as if the tiger knew how to speak as well, Leif conversed with it. His accent was thick.
"So.. so.. I tells him. I shot yer wife, yer kids, and yer wee dog too! By the Gods the look on his face was just-!"
Leif broke into hearty laughter, and then gave the tiger a glance. It stared at him like he was a madman.
"Aye... ye be a tough one to amuse Erik,' He patted his companion ," I'm starving after that bounty hunt, interest ya on a pint and salted pork?"
Leif and Erik stopped by one of the many taverns Leif had visited. Leif struggeled onto a chair, and Erik layed to the floor beside Leif, licking his fangs and pawing his fur. A few seats were vacant in the table still.
"What can I get for you today Leif?"
It was Sophii, the Elven barmaid for the tavern, also an acquaintance of his after many visits to this same tavern
"Two dishes of salted pork, and two pints. Keep a pint in a bowl for Erik, if thats alright with you Sophii."
She reached down to pet Erik.
"Of course, be back in a moment dear."
Leif rubbed his hands in anticipation, he was damn hungry.

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TheJESTERJ

(i'm still not sure if you wanted me to just edit it and post this, or edit it and show you, so i did both)

The sheer size of the city frightened him. Here had just got accustomed to the brightness of Up World, it was much different from the dark dank caves of his home. Oh how he wished he was back at home, nestled among his countless tools and gadgets. He remembered when the messengers had first arrived at his workshop. He was surprised that the humans could even get as far as the barren town that Morad himself called a workshop. Now, Morad was not like other dwarves. He was considerably smaller than most dwarves, and in rare cases smaller than the youngest dwarf in the entire village! For his size though, he was not required to join the village army. The village chiefs had thought him as weak, and found him better suited for construction. He had to admit himself, he had nimble fingers and quick hands. He could construct 20 houses before even the fastest human builder could construct the door. He took pride in that, and his workshop. It became his workshop shortly after the village war chiefs decided he was not fit for fighting, and instead expelled him from the village, telling him to explore that vast caverns of Deep World and search for one of the many abandoned towns the village had left behind. He himself and he alone would have to make the town livable again, and perhaps the most difficult part of it all would be stopping the rock above the town from crumbling down. In the end though, Morad somehow managed to construct massive beams to support the cave from falling. He proceeded to construct massive towers which reached up to the areas of the beams which needed the most maintenance. Was no task for Morad, took a day for each tower, and the completed task left four towers around the corners of the small barren town. It wasn't much to Morad, in fact when he started to receive orders from various Kingdoms, four immense towers were nothing. I guess the chiefs decided to make a profit of Morad's gift, selling his services out behind his back. Bah, it was of no use now. He still had many orders to finish, he could afford no distractions now. He looked across towards the mouth of the caverns entrance, he thought he spotted something. Rushing atop a small lookout near the center of the city, he peered through a large telescope he had acquired as payment a few weeks back. He saw figures dressed in white, rapidly running toward Morad's workshop, and perhaps the most peculiar fact of it all was that they were human.

He leaned back in the limestone chair in front of the telescope and stared at the immense beams he had constructed. They took a dome shape all around the cave, supporting the weak rock above him. Soon he would have to climb up atop there and do maintenance, as the screws would come loose or crumble from the immense pressure put upon them. He was reminded of an old dwarven saying, " The two ways a dwarf shall die shall be under a pile of rocks or drinking a pint of ale, I shall commend a dwarf who accomplishes both!" He chuckled a bit, a loud hoarse chuckle that was followed by coughing. The air down here sometimes even got to the strongest of dwarves, it was riddled with smoke and flint dust.

When the humans got closer he saw that they were wearing pieces of cloth over their faces, presumably to protect themselves from the countless fumes. Morad lowered himself through a winch he constructed naught but weeks ago, and stepped toward the humans. They bowed slightly, not sure of how dwarves usually greet one another.

" We bear a message from the Army General of the Kingdom of Mark" one of the humans said, he was upon further inspection a young human child, Morad was not aware the humans trained their children at such a young age. The other messenger was no older, and stood silently next to the other, eyes taking in the mass amount of contraptions Morad had built.

" What does this "Ge..ner...al" want with me. I am a very busy dwarf you know, I have orders from all around the land asking for years worth of machinery, and have little time for such trivial matters." He said it in a gruff voice, as to ascertain his toughness.

" He has heard you are a great builder, and has requested to hire you, he wants you to construct weapons for his army and his army alone, and he is not a cheap man. He offers alot of money for your services." The young man spoke quickly, as if he wanted to leave this place and never look back. The other still stood silent.

" Oh? Not a cheap man? Well I'm not a cheap dwarf! I have no need for money, I have plenty. Lately though, I've been running short of ale..." He released a loud gruff laugh that scared the young boys nearly out of their boots. " ...so ask your General to pay me in ale!" Morad let out another gruff laugh.

The boys looked at each other quickly and smiled, " Please meet up with the General in a town called Mellany, in the region of Lyhr. Just head to the castle and state yourself, they should let you in." They quickly turned around and ran through the large cave entrance that led into a complicated array of tunnels. He wondered if they would make it back, maybe they would get killed by the large bats along the way...BAH! He threw away these concerns. " I have bigger stuff to deal with!" He yelled into the empty cavern.

Now here he was, in the town of the Mellany, still taking in the scene around him. He supposed he must look odd to the humans, he wore a dirty tunic and an old pair of chain boots. His goggles were across his forehead, exposing his squinty velvet eyes. He scratched his chestnut beard in frustration as he scanned the the street for a pub. His eyes were still adjusting to the light, even after 4 days of travel. He changed hands in which he carried his knapsack, which contained a few trinkets he thought would come in handy, and his tools. They rattled around in his knapsack as he moved it, and a few people turned to look. While the castle was in plain view, he thought it best to take a rest at the local pub. " Where is the blasted pub! I need a drink!" He frustratingly wandered down the street, his pride denying him the ability to ask for directions. He was reminded of another old dwarven saying, " A lost dwarf is a dwarf no more!" He gritted his teeth angrily. He was mean while drunk, and even meaner sober.

Deaths_Legion

Atheyus watched the crowded city from his safehouse; a place where he could be alone to do whatever he wanted and where he knew no one would find him. The city was bustling, as always, during this time of day and he was afraid to have to go down there. Every day at night, he dressed in his leather suit, as black as midnight, and wore his hood in order to conceal his true self. People never expected him, and he was paid for what he loved to do. His most recent victim had been a thirty year old human who was preaching lies about the city. He was taken care of swiftly.

His attire in the day, however, happened to be just normal peasant's clothing. He often wore a brown cloak on cold days to hide his weapons, but more often than not, he was caught. The blades of his katanas were just too long, and the sheath would stick out from underneath. The city watch didn't seem to care though, just as long as he kept them away in their encasings.

The wind picked up a little, blowing his long white hair across his face and exposing his pointed elven ears. Even for being an elf, he was fast, and not to be trifled with in a fight. He could move so fast, and hide himself so well, that sometimes he could jump roof to roof down in the city at night without being noticed. His true ability came with his weapons though. He had had the katanas made and reinforced several times by a dwarf the name of which he could never remember. They were forged in fires hotter than normal steel, and dyed tints of red and black. The black steel was sharper than the red steel, but the red steel seemed to be able to withstand more pressure. Other than the katanas, he held several kunai at various places on his body and also had some throwing darts poisoned with a sleeping toxin.

Having dazed and reminisced for too long, he had not noticed it had become night. His target was most likely at home now, and the streets mostly empty, so he started off down the trail to the city of Mellany.

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Pipster

The thin wiry man walked down the streets of Mellany with a smirk... An almost passive smirk actually. Yes, that was Gildon, hair flowing down to his neck in a wild mane just as light brown as his eyes.

There was also a short, prickly beard upon his pointed chin, he wore a leather attire, loosely hanging over his body, mainly a rag-like fabric covering the top half of his body, also poised in the middle of his face was an aquiline nose.

...The high sun was heating up Gildon's face, stopping before an inn, he stared blankly at the sign, 'The Flying Dragon' Gildon's smirk widened for a second, "Rather extravagant for a tavern name..." He said in thought, but his curiousity got the better of him, and he decided to enter. As always, the smell of fresh salted meats and beer was always a good sign, a tasty one at that, his light-soled leather shoes entering the tavern first, he looked around.

... He rubbed his beard with the usual smirk, taking a seat in a near corner of the tavern, eyeing the crowd, most notable in the tavern was a particular race, one dwarf, seemed to know the barmaids very well... Obviously either a drunkard or a sociable dwarf, and a vicious, or so he looked, tiger by his side, Gildon would not like to be close to such a dwarf. He bent down a bit, checking that the daggers hidden between his leggings and the shoes are still there.

A passing barmaid, Gildon took the chance and stopped her, " 'Scuse me... I'll 'ave a pint of beer and a plate of salted meats, eh? Aye, thanks." Gildon leaned forwards as the barmaid turned, easily snatching the loose pouch that was tied by string onto her belt, he grinned, "That should about pay for it..." Gildon sighed happily, leaning back into his chair, "It's going to be easy..."

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Deaths_Legion

((I'm guessing you're human Pip?))

Atheyus waited and waited. This was the most boring part of the job, the waiting. He had once made a mistake when he first started his hunting career and ended up waiting for three days. Apparently, the man had gone out on business for a couple of days; a crude mistake on Atheyus' part.

He heard a small click come from the hallway that connected the room he was in to the rest of the house. That must have been the door, someone was home. The lanterns were all shut, and most likely not lit, but Atheyus' eyes were, naturally, attuned to the dark.

The room he had chosen to stage the murder was in this particular man's study room. Bookshelves lined the walls, from one complete wall to the next. This man was certainly intelligent, a worthy foe of words. That was one of Atheyus' favorite things to do, was to mess with his victims. The look of fear and confusion that he painted across peoples faces; it delighted him. He smiled inwardly as he heard the footsteps approach, and they soon appeared before the doorway. The door was ajar, so the man looked inside, confused.

"Expecting someone?"
"Wh-Who are you?"
"I'm the only one who can save you, but at the same time, I'm your executor. You do not see me because I do not exist. You only hear me because I do exist. I am your eternal dream, and I am your worst nightmare."

By this time, Atheyus had closed the distance, quietly and slowly, between him and the man. The man was still unaware of him, and so he crept ever closer. Closer, closer...just a small bit closer. Atheyus whipped around the man, pulled a kunai to his throat and finished the man off with a one-liner.

"I am your reprieve of life."

With that, the man hunched over to the floor, leaving a crimson stain on the rug below him. The dirty work was the best part of the job, because you never had to clean it up. The kunai he used to slit the man's throat was broken, and he hadn't realized it. Lucky was he that this kunai hadn't found it's way out during a true battle. He didn't need it anymore, so he tossed it into the man's back. The sickening thud sound it made only made Atheyus grin. And then he left to recieve his payment. Where did his client say they would meet? The Flying Dragon, that was it. He jumped silently out the window and started sprinting to the small tavern.

((Err, is this ok? Sorry, I've had a slight loss in self-confidence so I don't think the same anymore, and everything I do just looks like crap to me.

By the way, the red in quotes means that Atheyus is talking, any NPCs in my posts is in black text."

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TheJESTERJ

Wasting away, Morad desperately searched for a pub. ANY pub. A massive headache had emerged from deep inside Morad's cranium, the kind that made you want to quit drinking all together...QUIT DRINKING?! He smacked himself on the forehead, " 'Tis blasphemy to speak such nonsense!". His thoughts collided with each other, making the headache that much harder to survive. The city streets continued to obstruct his journey to the pub, they swerved and curved all about, leaving him in a daze.

Morad squinted through the light, his eyes still not quite adjusted to it, to find candidates which seemed to yell out, " DRUNKARD!". He scanned the streets, which at the time were busy with the usual midday crowds, and to his surprise spotted a fellow dwarf! His beard was all to familiar to Morad, at last! This dwarf must surely be heading towards a pub! Oddly though, to the side of the dwarf was a tiger, which looked furious. At least to Morad. The small dwarf (which he thought was redundant) viciously tried to pass the crowds that blocked his path, but to no avail! His small size was always a hindrance, and this was no time for hindrances! " Move out the way you pesky humans!" He charged towards the crowd and broke through, straight into one of the city guards.

The metal boots he wore hurt like hell, making Morad fall back from the pain.
" Oi, I'm sorry little one. Didn't mean to hurt ya." The guard extended his hand, and Morad reluctantly reached for it.

" Well, next time watch where ya going!" He pushed himself toward him, barely nudging the behemoth of a guard.

" Woah woah woah there little man, may I at least have the name of the dwarf I almost crushed? I'd like to formally apologize." He was holding on to Morad's shoulder, so persistent in the pursuit of a simple apology, the guard was young, apparently. City guards rarely conversed with townsfolk, they were busy guarding the city. Or so it seemed.

He gritted his teeth, " My name is Morad Dilshair, and it'd be swell if you weren't to call me "little man". The guard let go if his shoulder, " Morad? The one from the caves?! Sire, the General has been ripping the city apart searching for you! You were to arrive 2 nights ago!" The young guard grabbed Morad by the arm and dragged him in the direction of the castle, he was in a half lurch as he did this.

" Oh boy will the General pay me a handsome reward for bringing yo-" The guard stopped talking, as though he had spoke to much. " What do you mean by that?" By this time Morad had been trying to escape the man's grasp, but the question had to be asked. The young man smirked, " 'Tis nothing little one. Look, we're here."

He halted abruptly, " Hey! Trishan! I brought the dwarf!" The guard that was guarding the door to the palace stepped out of his post and approached the two. " Great! The General's been nagging on me about him!" The guard smiled wildly when he saw Morad, Morad knew the smile all too well. A crack about his height was soon to follow it. " Kind of a little one isn't he? He's the one that is supposed to build th-" Morad had had enough, " Blast! If it wasn't for you damn humans I would've been 10 pints into retirement! I will meet with your "Gener...al" when I feel it necessary! All I wanted was a bloody pin-" The young guard interrupted him quickly.

" If it is ale you require, " the guard seized the giant doors which led into the castle, " the we have plenty!" He swung open the doors quickly, and walked inside. Morad quickly followed, if there was ever a dwarf that could resist free ale may Morad never meet him! The temptation was just too much. The doors quickly shut behind him, and there he was not but 4 feet away from the Army General of Mark.

(don't fret Death_Legion, your work is great)

Fieren

Leif wolfed down the pork with bestial vigor. Like before, he was busy reminiscing about the past with one of his painfully detailed stories to Erik and the nearby table.

"So's I had the bloody thing by the tail, and it swirled 'n lashed around in bloodlust. Even Erik's skullpiercing bite to the leg culn't stop the damned thing. So it threw me back and-"

"That sounds awfully fluffed up short one." Blurted a tall, burly man on another table Leif wasn't even conversing with.

"Short stuff? Short stuff eh!? We'll this short stuff's got fists, and they don't need weapons to pummel pompous younglings like you." Leif snarled as he stood on his seat.

'Hah," He scoffed ," You should be retired old man. Beating down an old dwarfman wouldn't seem rewarding."

"You sonnavabitch! I've been cracking skulls since you we're a suckling babe!"

"Well then, bring it on ol' chum." The man cracked his knuckles, hoping to intimidate him.

"I'll bury you under this tavern."
Leif needed to say no more. he dropped his rapier and nailed his musket to the wooden floor. He did an inhuman leap like a primate towards the now awfully suprised man.

Sophii, all but used to sorts like this, walked nonchalontly by the source of the violence, feeling something to her rear, she shrugged it off as an accidental bump. Leif had the man pinned on the floor, and was beating him senseless with one punch after the other. For an attempt to escape, the man buckled his knees and kicked Leif away. Leif fell to a table where a skinny man was near receiving his meal.

"Sorry about that lad." He said calmly.

"I'll get you for this ol' man!" The young man shouted as he tried to mentally regain his pride. He started for the door, then felt something on his legs. Before he could stare down, he let out a howl of pain. In a few moments, the poor man was dragged out of the bar by Erik, and tossed into a muddy puddle.

"Come back when you've lost your damn baby fat!" Leif roared as the crowd in the bar cheered and laughed.

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shadowsworn

The bells in the clocktower in the centre of Mellany begin to chime 11:00. The sun is almost in the centre of the sky, and people are already beginning to gather on the sides of the city's main street in small groups.

OOC: I'm just going to wait till tomrrow to begin, because I'm still expecting one or two more people. After that, anyone who wants to join can still pm me though.

Edit

OOC: Looks like no one else is joining after all, at least for now.

IC: The bells in the clock tower chime the noon hour. There is a few seconds of silence, and then, a blaring of distant horns, from the encampment outside the city.

The gates of Mellany slowly open, and a long column of soldiers, helmeted and wearing chainmail, and flanked by offiers on horseback, enter the city. In front of each regiment is a bannerman bearing the regalia of his regiment, topped by the twin crows of the Kingdom of Mark.

The parade proceeds down the street peacefully, although there are sullen looks, and the occasional insult, from the crowds lining the sides of the road, directed against both the soldiers and the few huddles of people of Markish descent in evidence.

As the parade moves nearer to the centre of the twon, more and more people line the streets, as people come out of their homes and the inns and pubs along the way.

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TheJESTERJ

" Tis nothing for a dwarf like me. Tis nothing. NOTHING." Morad quietly chanted to himself over and over. He was sitting on a small stool, fiddling with a contraption in his hands. They relocated him to what the humans called their own workshop. It was small and warm, everything Morad detested. The General was a powerful man indeed, or was he simply a pawn to the king? His demands were outrageous to say the least. He had commanded him, yes commanded him to construct machines he had never heard of. The attitude itself the General had taken with Morad infuriated him. He imagined the cocky smirk of the General as Morad grudgingly accepted the task. He had lost his temptation for ale almost immediately after he set eyes upon the General. Something in him was scared, and it was scared witless.

The loud ringing of the clock tower awakened Morad. Seems he dozed off. He looked around at the disgusting workshop. They had laid out several tools they wanted Morad to use on a large table. He discarded these quickly. He preferred his own. They were well rusted but they were the only ones that he able to work with. He grabbed the knapsack from his back and laid it across the table, taking inventory on its contents. " Well, everything seems to be in order. Let's get started." He heard a rustle outside the workshop, but paid no mind to it. Something was going on outside, outside of the palace. The General did leave in a hurry, giving his apologies as he rushed out of the palace. He frowned, a face all to familiar.