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Enkerzed

Dusty Wanderer


Somewhere in the west, they say a star fell from the heavens and changed the earth where it struck.

They say it grants power to those with the courage to seek it.

To gain the strength of a thousand men or even conquer death itself.

They say it is a blessing...

d2yw5ze-7d93bc16-97ee-4c3c-b915-c1689f355dda.jpg

I say it is a curse.

Through towering spires and abyssal chasms.

Through trials of demons within and without.

Will you find what you seek or does damnation await?

wastelands_by_clintcearley_d2a4ibg-fullview.jpg

Here in these Crooked Lands.


Rules

1. Do not post in this thread until your character has been approved.

2. Do not write in first or second person perspective. Third person only.

3. Do not leave spelling mistakes in your post. Fix them if they occur.

4. Tag whoever you are interacting with.

5. Respond to my messages.

6. No one-liners.
 
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Somewhere far in the distance, a loud rumble carried over the mountain pass and halted Arbo in his tracks as he felt the ground vibrate beneath his feet. It was as though a giant had fallen over and made the earth tremble with the force of its weight. The young knight had expected as much from the stories he had heard about the Crooked Lands, but hearing it, feeling it, deep within his bones... that was something else altogether. So that was the 'rumbling'. He tried to imagine the sheer size of whatever may have caused such a tremor, but when he looked around at the stony slopes on either side of him, he felt a shiver run up his spine and then continued on in a hurried pace. For that brief moment, his mind had conjured an image of the entire mountain pass being swallowed up in an avalanche of rocks and he realized that he did not want to imagine such a thing after all.

Quickly ascending the slope to the mouth of the pass, Arbo exited the gap in the mountains and felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw the sprawling vista before him. For as far as the eye could see, there were towers of stone stretching out from horizon to horizon, each and every single one of them standing at impossible angles as they jutted out from the land like fangs in some great gaping maw. A thick veil of dust suffused the air above and transmuted the sun into a cloud of light, bathing the spires in liquid fire. Neither grass nor sky could be seen anywhere and it seemed to Arbo like standing at the gates of hell, a glimpse into another world far more cruel than the one outside the mountains. And yet somewhere in all that vastness was power beyond reckoning. Like a god, like a devil, a wish granter and the source of all Shards. The fallen star.

Slowly pulling down the hood of his earthen cloak, Arbo stood and stared as he took it all in. Revealing brown hair and brown eyes, the wind scourged both as it howled and whipped at the young knight, whistling through his cloak and cutting through the steel links of his mail hauberk like a knife. Go back, it seemed to say. You will not survive here. But Arbo had given up too much to get here. His home, whatever meager wealth he had managed to save up, even his shield, his most prized possession. He had to give that up too for it bore the sign of the Kovosian Empire and he could not travel with it if he hoped to cross through Vetic lands unscathed. Everything he now carried was all he had in the world and hopefully it would be enough, but there was only one way to test that.

Seeing a trail from where he stood, Arbo followed it with his eyes until it stopped at a large campsite at the edge of the Crooked Lands, just outside of the shadow of a leaning spire. Patting the pouch of coins hanging on his belt, Arbo made his way down the trail to the campsite and hoped he could afford whatever he might need to survive the wastes. Food, supplies, information, whatever it took. But more than that, he hoped to find people he could trust, because from this point on he had no idea of what to expect.


Condition: Healthy

Armaments:
  • Arming sword
  • Dagger
  • Mail hauberk
Attire:
  • Black boots
  • Brown cloak
  • Dark green trousers
  • Red surcoat (No sigil)
  • White tunic
  • Woolen socks (2 pairs)
Inventory:
  • Apple
  • Bread (1 & 1/2 loaf)
  • Coins (10 gold, 20 silvers)
  • Flint and steel
  • Waterskin (Half-full)
 
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Caw, caw! Caw!-- Caw-- caw--caw!


Drystani looked up from attending the bubbling pot hanging from the center of a tri-pod over steady flames. She pushed aside honey-hued locks, and still could not see Sirius in the mist and the jagged land echoed the phrase he cried. It was a wonder how the bird knew how to navigate. A call or two more and she guessed his direction. He was getting closer.


Caw, caw! Caw!


Something is coming.
Drystani stood up amidst the camp of the accompanying travelers through these crooked lands; Gerrick, Lady Huxley, and herself, aside from Clover, the horse for the wagon, and their avian companion.


Not a stones throw from her lay Gerrick, snoring lightly. Taking this to heart, Drystani took up a stone and aimed it at his shoulder. The rock thud against his head after a quick reconsideration due to the muscle being a potential nuisance. A groan of a man's stolen sleep and the shuddering of his tired body as he rose defined the frown he gave his traveling friend.


Drystani’s slender finger pressed to her lips and quelled retaliation. Gerrick listened, catching the familiar alarm for an approaching ‘Unknown’ from Sirius. Sleep shed all but the circles beneath his amber eyes as he hurried to arm himself. Better to be ready for foe than gamble on a friend, he recalled. More than money could be lost in this craggy graveyard. Now prepared, Gerrick sat on one side of the fire, across from Drystani, and both were between Lady Huxley and the unexpected traveler. They had a reputation to keep and possibly a campsite to defend.


A calm came over the sky. Sirius form, veiled, but recognizable, perched nearby on the tip of a spire. Drystani thought she could already make out a figure coming through the mist. If it was so for her, it had to be for the one coming toward them.


“Oh, a Stranger.” Drystani’s lilting voice carried a slight surprise.


Gerrick turned himself, raising both brows in what could be considered a lackadaisical concern for the presence of an unknown man. “Is that so?” He stood up and pat dirt from his pants. “Well hello, from one Seeker to another.” He offered a placating smile.


Condition:

Gerrick- Healthy

Drystani- Healthy


Armaments:

Gerrick:

  • Bolt-knuckle gloves
  • Shield arm-bracers
  • Bastard Sword
  • Dirk, chipped hilt
  • Quarterstaff (also walking stick)
  • Spear
Drystani:

  • Bastard sword
  • Daggers (9)
  • Sling (+20 round rocks)
  • Bow (1)/Arrows (50)
  • Quarterstaff (also walking stick)
  • Spear
Attire:

Gerrick:

  • Wool undershirt/long pants/socks (2 pairs)
  • Canvas, platted brocade
  • Thick leather belt
  • Cloak, faded green
  • Leather pants
  • Red scarf
Drystani

  • Dusty blue cloak with sleeves
  • Red scarf
  • Black brocade
  • Belt, dagger slots
  • Canvas pants
  • Leather boots
  • Fingerless gloves
  • Charm bracelet
Inventory (Personal):

Gerrick:

  • Coinpouch (1 Gold, 5 silver, 20 copper)
  • Waterskin (2/3s)
  • Flint/Steel
  • Jerky (beef)
  • Dried cherries
  • Tinwhistle
Drystani

  • Coinpouch (2 Gold, 3 Silver, 12 copper)
  • Waterskin (half)
  • Flint/Steel
  • Pipe, tobaco
  • Tiny bottles of oils
  • Seeds/Dried cherries/oranges in pouch
  • Sirius (Raven; Often perched on shoulder)
  • Tinwhistle
Inventory (Wagon/Shared):

  • Water cask (4, 10gallons each)
  • Soup slabs (aka, 'portable soup'/'pocket soup')
  • Salt pork (1, 1lb packs)
  • Pemmican (2,, 1lb packs)
  • Potatoes (two sacks)
  • Lard (½ lb)
  • Cheese (waxed casing, four small ½ lbs)
  • Hardtack (20 biscuits x3)
  • Flour (lb sack)
  • Honey (jarred, ⅓ lb)
  • Pouch of smoked pepper
  • Pouch of salt
  • Carrots (2 bunches)
  • Dried veggies mix (onions and garlic, ½ lb sack)
  • Dried herbs (thyme, mint, rosemary, mint, etc)
  • Dried fruit (Cherries, oranges, 1lb sacks each)
  • Extra canvas (4 yards)
  • 3 Bed rolls, sewn-in wool head-pads
  • Pot, pan, grate, tri-pod, wooden bowls/cups/fork and spoon x3
  • Pete (for fire)
  • Med-kit (various oils, gauze, twine, stitching needle, etc)
  • Bottle of whiskey
  • Burlap sack (empty, 2)
  • Rags (5)
  • Horse meal, brush, hoof-kit, and horse blanket
  • Soap

Enkerzed Enkerzed The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit
 
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It would've been nice to say that the gentle rousing of the camp had woke Deirdre from her slumber, but the previous night had not been one of much rest. From dusk until dawn, every muscle in her body had seemed intent on ailing her, while her mind throbbed away with its own set of complaints.

That wasn't exactly a foreign experience, though.

Shambling, Deirdre rose from her bedroll and peeked out from behind the flaps that curtained the opening to her tent. That man, she'd not yet bothered to memorize his name, seemed to be on alert. She sniffled quietly and considered the situation. He and his companion were being paid decent enough money to play the escort on her little pilgrimage, so there was no issue in her stay uninvolved in these sorts of affairs. It's not like she would've been of any use in the event that something important did occur anyway. Without a sound, Deirdre shuffled back into the depths of her temporary dwelling. While they were dealing with whatever was going on out there, she'd take care of her own business for the morning.

Beside her bedroll, a small iron jewellery box sat. From the heavy scent of oxidization that clung to its hinges, the age of the miniature chest easy to guess. From her breast pocket, Deirdre produced a simple key and slid it into the box's keyhole. Promptly, an almost inaudible sound of opening clicked out from within, she gently pried the box open.

Replacing the scent of rust, an offensive cocktail of chemical and herb-laced vapors filled the air. It was a smell older and more familiar to the weary traveler than even the smile of her younger brother. She grimaced at the thought of him, another part of the rituals she was bound to carry out each and every morning. Her expression unshifting as her mind drifted off to thoughts equally distasteful, she begun to rummage through the box's contents. Rather than the rings and gemstones it was aught to carry, it instead ferried a collection of assorted medicines.

Containers packed with powders, pills and oils were crammed into the depths of the jewellery box, each marked with some sort of unique brand belonging to whatever would-be doctor or snake-oil salesman had pawned it off to her. Some of them did better jobs than others, but even those among them that seemed to do the least for her condition found themselves a place as a regular part of Deirdre's morning schedule.

While the others went about their business outside, Deirdre set about applying each and every one of the medicines to her person. Swallowing, rubbing, chewing and sniffing away at each questionably effective substance, she rigorously followed the specific instructions she'd been given for the application of each and every one. Minutes passed before she set the last bottle back within the box, and the sealed the whole affair back up.

Her preparations complete, she resigned herself to facing the outside world. Bleary eyed, she brushed aside her tent flaps and stepped out into the campsite proper. Given the lack of screaming and bloodshed, it seemed like it was safe enough to assume that the earlier commotion had not been about a bandit attack, or some other disaster. An unfamiliar face had found its way into the campsite, but that was unconcerning to her. There was still a chance that the man wasn't worthy of trust, he might have been an advance scout for a larger assault, but for now she decided to keep her concerns to herself. Even if he was some sort of villain in disguise, he was outnumbered within the camp, and the moment he left she'd be sure to hurry her companions along to their next destination.

"Is this edible?" A nasally rasp clinging to her voice, Deirdre eyed the pot to which Drystani had been tending. An unidentifiable expression hung on her features. "I'm supposed to eat something after taking some of my medicines. I don't suppose you mind, do you?" She spoke as if she already knew the answer to her own question, and then narrowed her weary eyes at the stranger. "Will he be joining us? Do you know him?"

xrakkax xrakkax Enkerzed Enkerzed

Condition:
Healthy Enough
Armaments:
  • Dagger
Attire:
  • Brown Boots
  • Traveling Coat
  • Brown Trousers
  • Brown Leather Vest
  • White Blouse
  • Woolen Socks (2 pairs)
  • Huxley Family Signet Ring (Gold)
Inventory:
  • Coin Pouch (34 Gold, 82 Silvers)
  • Medical Supplies, Personal (2 to 3 months)
  • Journal
  • Inkwell & Stopper
  • Quill
 
xrakkax xrakkax The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit

Arbo glanced up briefly and shook his head with contempt as he heard the clawing from above. Crows. Even here there were crows. They were all too familiar a sight, especially after a battle, and the knight had come to despise the creatures since his years as a squire. How much they must caw with delight after so many men had finished hacking and slicing each other apart, giving their blood to the land they fought for only to end up in the bellies of crows. How happily they would gorge themselves until they were too heavy for flight.

You'll not have me, Arbo thought as he considered finding a rock to throw at the crow as soon as he saw it, perched atop a nearby spire, but then reconsidered as he saw how high it was. It was then that he heard a voice speak and noticed a man rising up seemingly out of nowhere just a few paces ahead, practically armed to the teeth with sword, spear and dirk.

“Well hello, from one Seeker to another,” he said with too friendly a smile for one so heavily armed.

This damn dust, Arbo thought as he came to a stop with a hand on the hilt of his sword. He had not noticed the stranger until they were practically face to face.

"Hello," the knight replied cautiously as his eyes took in the small campsite and a woman standing next to the man, just as heavily armed if not more so. Bandits? Vetic warriors perhaps?

Then an ill sounding voice came out from the tent behind them and yet another of the campers appeared, a frail looking woman with unmistakably Kovosian styled travel wear and what looked like a gold signet ring on her finger. As if to remove all doubt, she asked in the petulant tone that only a noble could muster whilst eyeing a cooking pot over the fire, "Is this edible?"

An aristocrat and her armed escort then. Arbo relaxed visibly as the lady continued, "Will he be joining us? Do you know him?"

And he replied, "I meet you all for the first time today, but I'm not against travelling alongside if we are all going the same way. I am called Arbo... Sir Arbo, if it matters."


Condition: Healthy

Armaments:
  • Arming sword
  • Dagger
  • Mail hauberk
Attire:
  • Black boots
  • Brown cloak
  • Dark green trousers
  • Red surcoat (No sigil)
  • White tunic
  • Woolen socks (2 pairs)
Inventory:
  • Apple
  • Bread (1 & 1/2 loaf)
  • Coins (10 gold, 20 silvers)
  • Flint and steel
  • Waterskin (Half-full)
 
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“It’s all the same in these lands, Sir Arbo, but if you like the distinction I can’t say I wouldn’t want to indulge in a title even here, if I had any.” Gerrick pat his chest. “Call me Gerrick. This is my good friend Drystani, and our client, Lady Huxley.”

Drystani pulled up a stool. “Join us. Another pair of hands and eyes on the road is always welcome.” She took a seat herself, and a few bowls and spoons, doling out a meal for the Lady first.

All Men may be the same but only one of the four of them meant another months rent and then some for Gerrick and Drystani. Dried herbs and spices in a pot of mostly potatoes and some chunks of salted meat was the best they could do for food in a land with little to eat than skeletons and skinny birds.

Thinking of, Drystani plucked a meat nibble from her own bowl and whistled. Sirius swooped from the top of a spire and alighted on her shoulder. A couple clips of his beak and the meat was gone. “Oh, and this is Sirius.” Drystani told Arbo.

The raven cocked his head to the side, eyeing the man. It was as if Sirius was looking at a past he could have had, had Drystani not raised him from a fledgling. A past of scavenging fields of men cooking in metal shells. Oh but flesh tasted best when cool and raw, and bleeding. All he had right now was salty and stiff. Patience. Sirius puffed his feathers in contentment and settled where he perched on her shoulder.


Condition:

Gerrick- Healthy
Drystani- Healthy

Armaments:

Gerrick:
  • Bolt-knuckle gloves
  • Shield arm-bracers
  • Bastard Sword
  • Dirk, chipped hilt
  • Quarterstaff (also walking stick)
  • Spear
Drystani:
  • Bastard sword
  • Daggers (9)
  • Sling (+20 round rocks)
  • Bow (1)/Arrows (50)
  • Quarterstaff (also walking stick)
  • Spear
Attire:

Gerrick:
  • Wool undershirt/long pants/socks (2 pairs)
  • Canvas, platted brocade
  • Thick leather belt
  • Cloak, faded green
  • Leather pants
  • Red scarf
Drystani
  • Dusty blue cloak with sleeves
  • Red scarf
  • Black brocade
  • Belt, dagger slots
  • Canvas pants
  • Leather boots
  • Fingerless gloves
  • Charm bracelet
Inventory (Personal):

Gerrick:
  • Coinpouch (1 Gold, 5 silver, 20 copper)
  • Waterskin (2/3s)
  • Flint/Steel
  • Jerky (beef)
  • Dried cherries
  • Tinwhistle
Drystani
  • Coinpouch (2 Gold, 3 Silver, 12 copper)
  • Waterskin (half)
  • Flint/Steel
  • Pipe, tobaco
  • Tiny bottles of oils
  • Seeds/Dried cherries/oranges in pouch
  • Sirius (Raven; Often perched on shoulder)
  • Tinwhistle
Inventory (Wagon/Shared):
  • Water cask (4, 10gallons each)
  • Soup slabs (aka, 'portable soup'/'pocket soup')
  • Salt pork (1, 1lb packs)
  • Pemmican (2,, 1lb packs)
  • Potatoes (two sacks)
  • Lard (½ lb)
  • Cheese (waxed casing, four small ½ lbs)
  • Hardtack (20 biscuits x3)
  • Flour (lb sack)
  • Honey (jarred, ⅓ lb)
  • Pouch of smoked pepper
  • Pouch of salt
  • Carrots (2 bunches)
  • Dried veggies mix (onions and garlic, ½ lb sack)
  • Dried herbs (thyme, mint, rosemary, mint, etc)
  • Dried fruit (Cherries, oranges, 1lb sacks each)
  • Extra canvas (4 yards)
  • 3 Bed rolls, sewn-in wool head-pads
  • Pot, pan, grate, tri-pod, wooden bowls/cups/fork and spoon x3
  • Pete (for fire)
  • Med-kit (various oils, gauze, twine, stitching needle, etc)
  • Bottle of whiskey
  • Burlap sack (empty, 2)
  • Rags (5)
  • Stool (small, x3)
  • Horse meal, brush, hoof-kit, and horse blanket
  • Soap

Enkerzed Enkerzed The One Eyed Bandit The One Eyed Bandit
 

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