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Fantasy Dominions: The Middle Ages

Ivan

The Fury of God

  • You are no one in particular, walking down a road nobody travels, going to who knows where, when, much to your surprise, you encounter a scouting party. They seem like local adventurers, a small rag-tag group of fellows probably doing work for a lord in the area. A couple are dressed in crude steel, and both carry Halberds. The rest are dressed in mostly simple attire, such as leather cloaks, or clothes they were able to rip off a dead man. Their weapons vary, ranging from bows to spears to maces to swords. They notice you, and hail you to them.

    "Ho traveler! Not many come down this path," says a man who appears to be their leader. "It's a dangerous one at that, so I can only assume you're mighty brave. Could I ask for your name?" [NAME]

    "Interesting!," exclaims the man. A variety of faces and murmurs between friends erupt from others within earshot, but that's to be expected from a band like this. "Only so many places this road leads to, friend. Could I ask where it is you're off to?" [KINGDOM]

    "A fine coincidence that is! We're heading that way as well. Join us for a spell, and we'll help you there safely."

    Hesitantly, or perhaps not hesitantly enough, you agree to join the mercenaries on their journey. It isn't far into the walk when some of the other mercs introduce themselves to you, and start asking questions. A kindly old mage begins to ask you about your magic abilities, [YOUR MAGIC SKILLS, SHOULD YOU CHOOSE TO HAVE ANY] while the two heavily armored Halberdiers ask you about what you have on you. [INVENTORY] Finally, a young squire asks you what you look like. You’re confused at first, but the other mercs explain that the boys been blind since he was born, and that they keep him on as a scout and a figurative “look-out” thanks to his keen sense of hearing. They tell you to humor the boy, and you agree, perhaps begrudgingly, to describe yourself to the child. [APPEARANCE]


    Finally, the leader of the band himself asks you a simple question; why are you out and about like this? [GOAL]

    [Your goal is a feature, wherein you can choose your reasoning for exploring this unforgiving world. If you set yourself a goal, such as; “I wish to avenge my father!” I will try to form a story line around that, and provide you with an overarching quest. You may, of course, skip this entirely by simply answering with “Wanderlust.”]

    Content with the knowledge they’ve gained, the mercenaries leave you be for the rest of the journey.

    Welcome to the world of Dominions! Anything goes, and your characters are limited only by your creativity and your knowledge of mythology.

    The rules are simple, and I'm sure you all know them by now. No metagaming, no godmodding, no being a shitter, etc. As the OP, I reserve full right to reject your Character Sheets and outright tell you to fuck off. I'm very lenient with the types of characters I accept, and will present especial leniency to people I know are good RPers, or who present interesting character concepts. You're allowed to make basically anything, from a very angry vineman, to a dumbass clockwork automaton. So long as your character is within reason and well written, we'll have no problems. I'm also not a forgiving OP. Do something stupid, and I wont hesitate to punish you, and your characters absolutely can, and probably will, die. Finally, as a preference, I'd prefer you not include just a stolen anime picture for your appearance. It tells me nothing of your actual ability to write, and in such a circumstance, I will almost certainly reject you.

    Keep all this in mind when deciding whether to apply, and what character you'd like to create.
 
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You are no one in particular, walking down a road nobody travels, going to who knows where, when, much to your surprise, you encounter a scouting party. They seem like local adventurers, a small rag-tag group of fellows probably doing work for a lord in the area. A couple are dressed in crude steel, and both carry Halberds. The rest are dressed in mostly simple attire, such as simple leather cloaks, or clothes they were able to rip off a dead man. Their weapons vary, ranging from bows to spears to maces to swords. They notice you, and hail you to them.

"Ho traveler! Not many come down this path," says a man who appears to be their leader. "It's a dangerous one at that, so I can only assume you're mighty brave. Could I ask for your name?" [Jemmeh]

"Interesting!," exclaims the man. A variety of faces and murmurs between friends erupt from others within earshot, but that's to be expected from a band like this. "Only so many places this road leads to, friend. Could I ask where it is you're off to?" [T'ein Ch'i]

"A fine coincidence that is! We're heading that way as well. Join us for a spell, and we'll help you there safely."

Hesitantly, or perhaps not hesitantly enough, you agree to join the mercenaries on their journey. It isn't far into the walk when some of the other mercs introduce themselves to you, and start asking questions. A kindly old mage begins to ask you about your magic abilities, [N/A] while the two heavily armoured Halberdiers ask you about what you have on you. [Jemmeh posseses a full set of enchanted armor that covers all areas but his head. The armor is of a very faint blue color and slightly warm to touch. The armor, while having all the basic characteristics of a normal set of steel armor, has no joints or hinges. It covers every inch of his body which would make it impossible to move in a normal set of metallic armor. But, because of the enchantment imbued with his armor, the metallic armor is flexible, almost elastic. This gives him a full range of flexibility while offering immense protection. Unbeknownst to Jemmeh, the armor also holds the soul of an ancient spirit, which in turn has granted Jemmeh boundless luck in any situation through the spirit's help. Of course, whether or not he is lucky in a certain scenario is entirely up to the spirit. While the armor does have great benefits, there is a drawback; Jemmeh cannot remove the armor. It is like a second skin. Beyond that, any attempts to don protective headware will sear the skin wherever the armor touches. As for a weapon, Jemmeh carries a massive iron cudgel and a knapsack full of useless trinkets. This ranges from things like gambling dice, to string, a handful of putty, and even a few rocks that he fancies.] Finally, a young squire asks you what you look like. You’re confused at first, but the other mercs explain that the boys been blind since he was born, and that they keep him on as a scout and a figurative “look-out” thanks to his keen sense of hearing. They tell you to humor the boy, and you agree, perhaps begrudgingly, to describe yourself to the boy. [Jemmeh, being an Ashdod giant, stands tall at 13 feet, nine inches tall. He is very well-muscled from his travels on the road, much stronger than most of his kind partly due to his towering height. His bodily features are unknown to even him, having been cursed by his armor for so many years. But, his facial features are visible. From first glance, it's clear that his jaw is crooked, arching to the left which makes his speech garbled and miscontrued. His nose lies in the same fashion. His forehead juts out obscenely and his eyebrows are bushy and thick, both features effectively hiding his light brown eyes for the most part. He has no hair and his head has visible dents in it, hinting at his retardation. Burn scars also litter his head from when he tried to don a helmet long ago, and from the multiple times afterward where he tried to the exact same thing. All in all, he is a very, very ugly man.]

Finally, the leader of the band himself asks you a simple question; why are you out and about like this? ["GRA. GRAHHHHHH Wurburururur... ARGGHHHH!" (I find for mage friend!)]
[Your goal is a new feature, wherein you can choose your reasoning for exploring this unforgiving world. If you set yourself a goal, such as; “I wish to avenge my father!” I will try to form a storyline around that, and provide you with an overarching quest. You may, of course, skip this entirely by simply answering with “Wanderlust.”]

Content with the knowledge they’ve gained, the mercenaries leave you be for the rest of the journey.
 
A friend who is unavailable for the day gave me his CS yesterday, so I'll be posting it for him and then getting to work on his OP.

You are no one in particular, walking down a road nobody travels, going to who knows where, when, much to your surprise, you encounter a scouting party. They seem like local adventurers, a small rag-tag group of fellows probably doing work for a lord in the area. A couple are dressed in crude steel, and both carry Halberds. The rest are dressed in mostly simple attire, such as simple leather cloaks, or clothes they were able to rip off a dead man. Their weapons vary, ranging from bows to spears to maces to swords. They notice you, and hail you to them.


"Ho traveler! Not many come down this path," says a man who appears to be their leader. "It's a dangerous one at that, so I can only assume you're mighty brave. Could I ask for your name?" [Böðmóður Karlsson]


"Interesting!," exclaims the man. A variety of faces and murmurs between friends erupt from others within earshot, but that's to be expected from a band like this. "Only so many places this road leads to, friend. Could I ask where it is you're off to?" [Eriu.]


"A fine coincidence that is! We're heading that way as well. Join us for a spell, and we'll help you there safely."


Hesitantly, or perhaps not hesitantly enough, you agree to join the mercenaries on their journey. It isn't far into the walk when some of the other mercs introduce themselves to you, and start asking questions. A kindly old mage begins to ask you about your magic abilities, [None.] while the two heavily armoured Halberdiers ask you about what you have on you. [Böðmóður has an assortment of tools, papers and different substances stored in a large case he carries on his back. This case also includes some food and miscellaneous objects he's deemed interesting or useful for later purposes. He also carries a kukri-looking blade given to him by a villager after he concocted an ointment for his wounds, he knows how to defend himself with it, but that doesn't mean he's an exceptionally talented slasher. In fact, he mostly uses it as a tool for other general purposes. His apparel consists of dark green and black robes wrapped around him, keeping him warm when it's cold, along with black leather shoes, worn from wandering about.] Finally, a young squire asks you what you look like. You’re confused at first, but the other mercs explain that the boys been blind since he was born, and that they keep him on as a scout and a figurative “look-out” thanks to his keen sense of hearing. They tell you to humor the boy, and you agree, perhaps begrudgingly, to describe yourself to the boy. [Böðmóður is a short, thin man. He's not scrawny, but he's definitely not beefy, just athletic, or fit for a man of his size. He's got messy, brown hair and a patchy beard, thick but not really outgrown. His worn-looking eyes are light brown, his face angular, and his nose somewhat wide. His general aspect is somewhat rugged, as most weary travelers'.]


Finally, the leader of the band himself asks you a simple question; why are you out and about like this? [Explore different lands to compile them and make an encyclopedia studying different forms of magic and creatures in different kingdoms. Like a magic dossier of the land and a bestiary/flora book of sorts. idk man you get whatmsayin']

[Your goal is a new feature, wherein you can choose your reasoning for exploring this unforgiving world. If you set yourself a goal, such as; “I wish to avenge my father!” I will try to form a storyline around that, and provide you with an overarching quest. You may, of course, skip this entirely by simply answering with “Wanderlust.”]


Content with the knowledge they’ve gained, the mercenaries leave you be for the rest of the journey.
 
"Ho traveler! Not many come down this path," says a man who appears to be their leader. "It's a dangerous one at that, so I can only assume you're mighty brave. Could I ask for your name?"

The man seems to be shaking, struggling to stay still and on his feet. With an optimistic voice, he responds, "My name is Xochitl!"

"Interesting!," exclaims the man. A variety of faces and murmurs between friends erupt from others within earshot, but that's to be expected from a band like this. "Only so many places this road leads to, friend. Could I ask where it is you're off to?"

"I'm off to R'lyeh!" The man says as if it's your classic holiday location. He pulls his hood closer over his head.

"A fine coincidence that is! We're heading that way as well. Join us for a spell, and we'll help you there safely."

Hesitantly, or perhaps not hesitantly enough, you agree to join the mercenaries on their journey. It isn't far into the walk when some of the other mercs introduce themselves to you, and start asking questions. A kindly old mage begins to ask you about your magic abilities, and you respond that you have two points in Evocation and one in enchantment. The two heavily armored Halberdiers ask you about what you have on you.

"I have some coins for purchases and a bone. For good luck."

Finally, a young squire asks you what you look like. You’re confused at first, but the other mercs explain that the boys been blind since he was born, and that they keep him on as a scout and a figurative “look-out” thanks to his keen sense of hearing. They tell you to humor the boy, and you agree, perhaps begrudgingly, to describe yourself to the child.

Xochitl's jaw chatters nervously. They probably would not react positively to a Tzitzimitl of Mictlan, even with someone as good looking and dashing as himself. "Well, I am a very tall, thin and pale man. I am bald, and in fact lack all hair due to the traditions of the tribe I come from. I'm wearing an average shirt, pants, boots, gloves, and a cloak over them."

Finally, the leader of the band himself asks you a simple question; why are you out and about like this?

Xochitl lets out a sound which must be his version of laughing. "My goal is to pay homage to all the gods, in a grand pilgrimage!"
 
You are no one in particular, walking down a road nobody travels, going to who knows where, when, much to your surprise, you encounter a scouting party. They seem like local adventurers, a small rag-tag group of fellows probably doing work for a lord in the area. A couple are dressed in crude steel, and both carry Halberds. The rest are dressed in mostly simple attire, such as simple leather cloaks, or clothes they were able to rip off a dead man. Their weapons vary, ranging from bows to spears to maces to swords. They notice you, and hail you to them.

"Ho traveler! Not many come down this path," says a man who appears to be their leader. "It's a dangerous one at that, so I can only assume you're mighty brave. Could I ask for your name?" [Jemmeh]

"Interesting!," exclaims the man. A variety of faces and murmurs between friends erupt from others within earshot, but that's to be expected from a band like this. "Only so many places this road leads to, friend. Could I ask where it is you're off to?" [T'ein Ch'i]

"A fine coincidence that is! We're heading that way as well. Join us for a spell, and we'll help you there safely."

Hesitantly, or perhaps not hesitantly enough, you agree to join the mercenaries on their journey. It isn't far into the walk when some of the other mercs introduce themselves to you, and start asking questions. A kindly old mage begins to ask you about your magic abilities, [N/A] while the two heavily armoured Halberdiers ask you about what you have on you. [Jemmeh posseses a full set of enchanted armor that covers all areas but his head. The armor is of a very faint blue color and slightly warm to touch. The armor, while having all the basic characteristics of a normal set of steel armor, has no joints or hinges. It covers every inch of his body which would make it impossible to move in a normal set of metallic armor. But, because of the enchantment imbued with his armor, the metallic armor is flexible, almost elastic. This gives him a full range of flexibility while offering immense protection. Unbeknownst to Jemmeh, the armor also holds the soul of an ancient spirit, which in turn has granted Jemmeh boundless luck in any situation through the spirit's help. Of course, whether or not he is lucky in a certain scenario is entirely up to the spirit. While the armor does have great benefits, there is a drawback; Jemmeh cannot remove the armor. It is like a second skin. Beyond that, any attempts to don protective headware will sear the skin wherever the armor touches. As for a weapon, Jemmeh carries a massive iron cudgel and a knapsack full of useless trinkets. This ranges from things like gambling dice, to string, a handful of putty, and even a few rocks that he fancies.] Finally, a young squire asks you what you look like. You’re confused at first, but the other mercs explain that the boys been blind since he was born, and that they keep him on as a scout and a figurative “look-out” thanks to his keen sense of hearing. They tell you to humor the boy, and you agree, perhaps begrudgingly, to describe yourself to the boy. [Jemmeh, being an Ashdod giant, stands tall at 13 feet, nine inches tall. He is very well-muscled from his travels on the road, much stronger than most of his kind partly due to his towering height. His bodily features are unknown to even him, having been cursed by his armor for so many years. But, his facial features are visible. From first glance, it's clear that his jaw is crooked, arching to the left which makes his speech garbled and miscontrued. His nose lies in the same fashion. His forehead juts out obscenely and his eyebrows are bushy and thick, both features effectively hiding his light brown eyes for the most part. He has no hair and his head has visible dents in it, hinting at his retardation. Burn scars also litter his head from when he tried to don a helmet long ago, and from the multiple times afterward where he tried to the exact same thing. All in all, he is a very, very ugly man.]

Finally, the leader of the band himself asks you a simple question; why are you out and about like this? ["GRA. GRAHHHHHH Wurburururur... ARGGHHHH!" (I find for mage friend!)]
[Your goal is a new feature, wherein you can choose your reasoning for exploring this unforgiving world. If you set yourself a goal, such as; “I wish to avenge my father!” I will try to form a storyline around that, and provide you with an overarching quest. You may, of course, skip this entirely by simply answering with “Wanderlust.”]

Content with the knowledge they’ve gained, the mercenaries leave you be for the rest of the journey.

Being a brutish, giant of a man certainly isn't doing much for your popularity in this troop. Most of the other mercenaries avoid you, choosing instead to murmur among themselves about you, and about other things, both of which you are unlikely to even understand. The glaring gazes they send your way certainly make up for your lack of vocal comprehension. One mercenary, a short, stout man dressed in a long cloak that is far too large for his person, approaches the mercenary captain and whispers something to him, all the while shooting his eyes towards you. The captain promptly reprimands him, and send him back to his place.

It would seem not all are as unwelcoming, however, as the troops mage makes an effort to approach you.

"Greetings!" He says, waving all the while.

"Jimmeh is your name, yes?"
 
"Ho traveler! Not many come down this path," says a man who appears to be their leader. "It's a dangerous one at that, so I can only assume you're mighty brave. Could I ask for your name?"

The man seems to be shaking, struggling to stay still and on his feet. With an optimistic voice, he responds, "My name is Xochitl!"

"Interesting!," exclaims the man. A variety of faces and murmurs between friends erupt from others within earshot, but that's to be expected from a band like this. "Only so many places this road leads to, friend. Could I ask where it is you're off to?"

"I'm off to R'lyeh!" The man says as if it's your classic holiday location. He pulls his hood closer over his head.

"A fine coincidence that is! We're heading that way as well. Join us for a spell, and we'll help you there safely."

Hesitantly, or perhaps not hesitantly enough, you agree to join the mercenaries on their journey. It isn't far into the walk when some of the other mercs introduce themselves to you, and start asking questions. A kindly old mage begins to ask you about your magic abilities, and you respond that you have two points in Evocation and one in enchantment. The two heavily armored Halberdiers ask you about what you have on you.

"I have some coins for purchases and a bone. For good luck."

Finally, a young squire asks you what you look like. You’re confused at first, but the other mercs explain that the boys been blind since he was born, and that they keep him on as a scout and a figurative “look-out” thanks to his keen sense of hearing. They tell you to humor the boy, and you agree, perhaps begrudgingly, to describe yourself to the child.

Xochitl's jaw chatters nervously. They probably would not react positively to a Tzitzimitl of Mictlan, even with someone as good looking and dashing as himself. "Well, I am a very tall, thin and pale man. I am bald, and in fact lack all hair due to the traditions of the tribe I come from. I'm wearing an average shirt, pants, boots, gloves, and a cloak over them."

Finally, the leader of the band himself asks you a simple question; why are you out and about like this?

Xochitl lets out a sound which must be his version of laughing. "My goal is to pay homage to all the gods, in a grand pilgrimage!"


The mercenaries fall back in line, and you with them. Your walking isn't anything eventful. Most of the mercs keep to themselves, and to their companions, keeping away from conversing with you. It's likely not out of any kind of particular hatred or distrust, but rather that you've not yet become part of the fold. For this reason, your boney jaw remains unmoved for a fair distance, up until the troops mage decides to approach you. He's an old, unkempt looking man, with a long, dirty beard, and very wrinkly robes.

"Not many men brave the journey to the island of R'lyeh." begins the mage "So why is it that you're doing it, lad?"
 
It takes Jemmeh awhile to process what the mage had said, maintaing a dumbfounded expression through the whole process. He was like this for about fifteen seconds to be exact. When he finally did catch on to what the mage had said, he does his best to utter out what few words he knew. "NNNAM- NAAMEhhhhh... JEEEEMEhhh," he sputters out loudly, raising his hands and wearing a smile as if had achieved something great. He was holding his giant cudgel at the time, so he was spinning it around wildly in a way that would seem threatening to most individuals.

Jemmeh wasn't great at first impressions.
 
It takes Jemmeh awhile to process what the mage had said, maintaing a dumbfounded expression through the whole process. He was like this for about fifteen seconds to be exact. When he finally did catch on to what the mage had said, he does his best to utter out what few words he knew. "NNNAM- NAAMEhhhhh... JEEEEMEhhh," he sputters out loudly, raising his hands and wearing a smile as if had achieved something great. He was holding his giant cudgel at the time, so he was spinning it around wildly in a way that would seem threatening to most individuals.

Jemmeh wasn't great at first impressions.

The mage's long, scruffy beard raises in a way that indicates a smile, and he steps aside whenever your cudgel gets a wee bit too close.

"It's nice to meet you, Jimmeh. Could I ask what someone such as, uh... "yourself" is 'finding for mage'?"
 
"Fear is not in my vocabulary, friend! There is nothing to fear in the eternal void. Eventually, we will all die and crumble," Xochitl responds enthusiastically, looking straight ahead. Every now and then there is a fall in his step due to the strong winds, but he more or less keeps up with the group.
 
"Fear is not in my vocabulary, friend! There is nothing to fear in the eternal void. Eventually, we will all die and crumble," Xochitl responds enthusiastically, looking straight ahead. Every now and then there is a fall in his step due to the strong winds, but he more or less keeps up with the group.

"It's only foolish men who say such things." Responds the mage. "A healthy dose of caution will do much for keeping you alive, especially if you actually intend to travel to that cursed island."
 
Jimmeh thinks for awhile, again going through the entire aforementioned process. When it finally hits, a crooked smile creeps across his face. "M-hh...MaagE PAAall. WANT MAGE FOLLOWhhh... ME," Jimmeh sputters out, the last of his words coming out surprisingly clear.
 
"I am more durable than most, friend! Do not worry. I will take a sufficient amount of caution. I know what goes on in R'lyeh, it is a rather troublesome place."
 
Jimmeh thinks for awhile, again going through the entire aforementioned process. When it finally hits, a crooked smile creeps across his face. "M-hh...MaagE PAAall. WANT MAGE FOLLOWhhh... ME," Jimmeh sputters out, the last of his words coming out surprisingly clear.

"Ah, well, I'm a bit too old to be traversing the lands with one such as yourself. However, if you were to, perhaps, help us out, maybe I could offer you something."
 
"I am more durable than most, friend! Do not worry. I will take a sufficient amount of caution. I know what goes on in R'lyeh, it is a rather troublesome place."

"It is indeed. Now, if you don't mind me asking, what is it you hope to find in such a cursed place?"
 
Ivan said:
"It is indeed. Now, if you don't mind me asking, what is it you hope to find in such a cursed place?"

"Why, to worship their gods, of course! It's my first stop in my grand pilgrimage! Surely if I show them my good will, they won't completely obliterate me!"
 
A friend who is unavailable for the day gave me his CS yesterday, so I'll be posting it for him and then getting to work on his OP.

You are no one in particular, walking down a road nobody travels, going to who knows where, when, much to your surprise, you encounter a scouting party. They seem like local adventurers, a small rag-tag group of fellows probably doing work for a lord in the area. A couple are dressed in crude steel, and both carry Halberds. The rest are dressed in mostly simple attire, such as simple leather cloaks, or clothes they were able to rip off a dead man. Their weapons vary, ranging from bows to spears to maces to swords. They notice you, and hail you to them.


"Ho traveler! Not many come down this path," says a man who appears to be their leader. "It's a dangerous one at that, so I can only assume you're mighty brave. Could I ask for your name?" [Böðmóður Karlsson]


"Interesting!," exclaims the man. A variety of faces and murmurs between friends erupt from others within earshot, but that's to be expected from a band like this. "Only so many places this road leads to, friend. Could I ask where it is you're off to?" [Eriu.]


"A fine coincidence that is! We're heading that way as well. Join us for a spell, and we'll help you there safely."


Hesitantly, or perhaps not hesitantly enough, you agree to join the mercenaries on their journey. It isn't far into the walk when some of the other mercs introduce themselves to you, and start asking questions. A kindly old mage begins to ask you about your magic abilities, [None.] while the two heavily armoured Halberdiers ask you about what you have on you. [Böðmóður has an assortment of tools, papers and different substances stored in a large case he carries on his back. This case also includes some food and miscellaneous objects he's deemed interesting or useful for later purposes. He also carries a kukri-looking blade given to him by a villager after he concocted an ointment for his wounds, he knows how to defend himself with it, but that doesn't mean he's an exceptionally talented slasher. In fact, he mostly uses it as a tool for other general purposes. His apparel consists of dark green and black robes wrapped around him, keeping him warm when it's cold, along with black leather shoes, worn from wandering about.] Finally, a young squire asks you what you look like. You’re confused at first, but the other mercs explain that the boys been blind since he was born, and that they keep him on as a scout and a figurative “look-out” thanks to his keen sense of hearing. They tell you to humor the boy, and you agree, perhaps begrudgingly, to describe yourself to the boy. [Böðmóður is a short, thin man. He's not scrawny, but he's definitely not beefy, just athletic, or fit for a man of his size. He's got messy, brown hair and a patchy beard, thick but not really outgrown. His worn-looking eyes are light brown, his face angular, and his nose somewhat wide. His general aspect is somewhat rugged, as most weary travelers'.]


Finally, the leader of the band himself asks you a simple question; why are you out and about like this? [Explore different lands to compile them and make an encyclopedia studying different forms of magic and creatures in different kingdoms. Like a magic dossier of the land and a bestiary/flora book of sorts. idk man you get whatmsayin']

[Your goal is a new feature, wherein you can choose your reasoning for exploring this unforgiving world. If you set yourself a goal, such as; “I wish to avenge my father!” I will try to form a storyline around that, and provide you with an overarching quest. You may, of course, skip this entirely by simply answering with “Wanderlust.”]


Content with the knowledge they’ve gained, the mercenaries leave you be for the rest of the journey.

The mercenaries return to their marching, and you joining along with them. It's a casual sort of atmosphere, with all mercs taking and laughing among each other. They don't all seem to be the most welcoming sort though. Aside from the odd "Hello!" and "Good to meetcha!", not many of the men make the effort to actually strike up conversation with you. That isn't to say that no one strikes up a conversation with you, of course. In fact, the archer, and likely tracker of the group, makes an effort to talk to. She's a short woman, with an athletic build, and with messy brown hair down just below her shoulders. Her apparel consists of a dusty old cloak and some brown leggings.

"Hey, love. What's a big strong northerner like yourself doin' this far west?"
 
"Why, to worship their gods, of course! It's my first stop in my grand pilgrimage! Surely if I show them my good will, they won't completely obliterate me!"

"That's some real wishful thinking on your part, lad. Are you sure the natives will even be able to understand you?"
 
Ivan said:
"That's some real wishful thinking on your part, lad. Are you sure the natives will even be able to understand you?"

"But of course! I am a man of many skills. If not, we will communicate through the universal language of friendship."
 
"HEEEeeelphhhh FIND M-MAGEeehhhh... FRIEND?!" Jimmeh says loudly, drawing a breath before getting out the final word of his question.
 
"But of course! I am a man of many skills. If not, we will communicate through the universal language of friendship."
The mage chuckles. You certainly seem to be entertaining the old man, if nothing else.

"You definitely seem like the type that'd find a way. If your heart is set on making the journey, I certainly wont stop you, but could I ask a favor of you?"
 
The mage chuckles. You certainly seem to be entertaining the old man, if nothing else.

"You definitely seem like the type that'd find a way. If your heart is set on making the journey, I certainly wont stop you, but could I ask a favor of you?"

Xochitl seems to hesitate. "Of course, sir. What is it that you ask of me?"
 
Xochitl seems to hesitate. "Of course, sir. What is it that you ask of me?"
The mage points to a scrawny looking man, dressed in a grey robe and small, round glasses. His face is plain, his skin is fair, and his hair is brown and well groomed. A backpack is strapped over his shoulders, and it seems to be almost full to bursting with whatever is inside. He seems to be annoying one of the Halberdiers at the moment, with talk of the R'lyeh and all the bits and pieces he knows about them.

"You see that brimming cup of optimism and research notes over there? He's the reason we're going anywhere near that cursed island. He's paid us a hefty sum to transport him there. After we set him down on the island, we're going to high tail it hell out of there. Truthfully though, I worry for the lad. He'll end up dead right quick if he's there all alone, so I'd ask you look after him. I'm sure he'll reward you well for your trouble."
 
This time, Xochitl answers without hesitation. "How much?"
"Well, he's paying us a hefty sum of three-thousand gold pieces for transporting him. Said it was all he had coin-wise, but he offered us some trinkets if that wasn't enough. Our captain, the 'gallant' soul he is, rejected the the trinkets." You can detect a fair bit of both sarcasm and contempt in the mage's discussion of his leader.
 

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