Fantasy Auverand - Medieval Fantasy (OPEN)

[Athanas]

The ride back was slightly faster, as the excitement was taking hold of Varrick and his companions. What a great turn of events this had been! He had gone there to ask for employment and a temporary holding... And the Princess had made him Marshal! Oh, the things he would do! from this position. Of course, he would honor his obligation to the Voguals, and he would reform their armies. They would soon be a house to be feared! Sadly, both a great deal of money and time were required, and he currently had neither. He'd have to start working out some sort of solution to both of these issues within a week. Restoration of a council ought to help somewhat in both of these regards, and if the Princess managed to actually prove competent and find herself a loyalist, he could start work on the internal corruption of this cesspool of a house. A lesser man would've avoided coming anywhere near this house, much less seek a position in it. He would try to get a position with the Mercers, or the Brens, scraping what he could. But there was no glory to be had for the one who held all the cards. None would remember the Marshal of House "We send thousands of untrained men to their deaths while our cavalry flanks them" Mercer. All will remember the tactical genius of the Marshal that somehow, managed to defeat not one, not two, but three houses, all richer and more powerful than his own.

He shook himself out of his daydreaming as they neared the camp palisades. There was a very long way to go before that was even achievable. Time and Money.The more he managed to scrape together before conflict broke out, the better his odds would be. He dismounted and handed off his horse to one of his soldiers to take to the stables, while his companions followed suit. As he was headed to his tent, however, some commotion caught his attention: Tovelson, the Camp Engineer was yelling obscenities and wildly swinging his hammer over a fallen soldier who was grasping his knee in agony. He had seen this scene play out far too many times, but he didn't mind: The Dwarf's mind was sharp as a razor. His expertise in all kinds of contraptions and smithing had been a tremendous asset. For all this, Varrick was more than happy to excuse his Belligerent behavior and violent outbursts. He had learned to not get stuck on pretenses, like so many others, but to instead see the true value of a man. Most Warlords would have dismissed Tovelson as some sort of drunk fool-but not Varrick. Most Warlords would have sent Krugh away immediately, without seeing that he was the only one who could keep the Feral Orcs under control-but not Varrick. Most would have executed Siv for having the audacity to defeat them in front of their men-But not Varrick.

He approached, putting a hand on Tovelson's shoulder to get his attention while Gordain moved to heal the injured soldier.
"They never learn to not mock your height, do they, Tov? No matter. Let's head to my tent! I have great news to share with you!"
He turned to the other soldier, who was now watching his relief as the mage was tending to his friend. "And ye: Go to the Quartermaster. Tell him to get a stage ready, There's going to be an announcement! Spread the word"

He walked by to his own part of the camp, where his tent, and the tents of the Merry Band where located. It was admittedly, quite the sight: Krugh's tent was lined with furs from the many different animals he hunted on his spare time, and currently there were some heads on spikes on display. Marius's tent was a good distance from the others, as the stench was almost unbearable, even for soldiers. A bizarre carving, painted with what looked suspiciously like blood was left outside, and Varrick knew best than to touch it. The tent of the twins, with Several straw targets and bullseyes lined up for target practice, all with the arrows almost perfectly aligning with the centers. Gordain's tent was almost like a hub of smaller tents-It served as the second infirmary, where the critically wounded were taken. The Mage's only condition for joining the band was that Varrick would allow him to use his powers to the fullest daily, trying to save as many soldiers as possible.

And of course, right in the Center, The Ogre's Tent. It was larger than the rest, with weapon racks and small trophies from his many conquests to be found both in the exterior and the interior. On top of it, a Stuffed Troll's head-His first real Trophy. A permanent reminder of the might of the man inside.

Of course, it was easily large enough to accommodate them all. Varrick liked having space, and the tent itself doubled as a command post. However, before he could make the announcement, the was some more commotion outside. Much to his horror, Krugh entered the tent carrying a badly wounded Siv. Varrick's concern was suddenly plainly visible on his features as he set her on the large table and Gordain rushed to inspect the damage and treat her.

"How....How did this happen Krugh? Ambush?"

"No, Boss! The Cat was a lot more fierce than I'as 'xpecting. And there was this idiot elemental whore -pah!- she ruined our surprise. I wanted to let the Beast gut her, but Siv 'ere wanted to save her for some bloody reason! Gah, if she wasn't so badly bloodied, I would've gutted the little twat. She even stole my kill! I SPEARED THE DAMN THING THROUGH, BUT NO! HER AND HER LITTLE FIRE TRICKS HAD TO COME ALONG! GREAHHHHHHHH!"

Krugh angrily slammed his fist against the ground. He always did that when he could not vent his fury on something made of flesh. Varrick ignored him. There was nothing he could do other than give him a raid soon.

"Aight Var. She's kinda banged up, but she will live. I just need a few minutes here... She should be conscious in a moment... In the meantime, Don't you have something to announce to everyone? Over wine, preferrably. I was really hoping this wouldn't be such a taxing night...."

"Oh, right, Right. So, everyone. Behold! I am now the Marshal of House Vogual! I'd like to start hearing suggestions!"
He went over to a barrel with some of his finest beer, preserved especially for such occasions. He opened a crate of mugs andbegan handing them to his band-mates.

Location: Inside his tent, in the War Camp

Interactions: Siv( ShadowBroker ), Tovelson( High5ives )

 

[Kirby3178]

Aire of House Mercer
Aire realized just how boring his life had become, with no mercenary jobs given by Lord Mercer, or anyone for that matter, he had no choice but to tend to the stables. As he was cleaning the stables and the horses, Aire looked a few stalls down and saw Dia, the black steed that he had ridden to bring back the horse that Lady Eavan took. He went up to the steed and stroked his neck and muzzle, then he thought about how fast and strong Dia was,
"Maybe I could ask Lord Mercer if I could keep you," he said.

Aire finished his tasks in the stables and began to think about how he was going to ask Lord Mercer about keeping Dia. He did this while leaning against the well and eating a mixture of nuts and dried fruits that he had made the night before, then a realization hit him that brought doubt upon him,
"When would I ever get the chance to ride him besides from here to back home?"
Aire could ask Lord Mercer if he had any need to hire his services once more, but if he didn't then Dia would only cost him more coin.​

[Location: Mercer Castle Stables] [Interacting: N/A]

 

[ShadowBroker]

[class=Notes] // Forward slashes are comments and do no show up in the final design, these are to help you find everything easily and explain some code as well. These comments must be with in a class or script tags in order to be hidden, from what I know// // Long URls are images # followed by letter and numbers are Hex codes or color codes.// // This code does not show breaks unless is shows the
code When typing responses to rps, be aware that when you press enter it will not show that you did. You'll have to use the
tags// [/class] [class=BackgroundPicture] background-color:#000000; Padding:30px; //The background image that become the border// [/class] [class=BackgroundColor] padding:15px; background-color:#fcfcde; Color:Black; //BGColor will what determinates what type color will it have. Padding will be the void between the Border and the actual text.// //The solid block of color that makes the border appear as a border. All your content will be in this box// [/class] [class=Name] float:right; // The Object will be at the right side of the screen - Floating as an image // margin-bottom:10px; text-align:center; border-radius:5px; background-color:#143d40; padding:5px; color:#fbe7d1; width:calc(100% - 35% - 33px); // Calculus to avoid objects to collide / lose itself at the bottom of another // //The Box around the name// [/class] [class=Img] border-right:20px SOLID #fcfcde; border-bottom:10px SOLID #fcfcde; width:35%; float:left; //this class has a border to create a false margin so the horizontal lines don't appear to go behind the image if you change the back ground you have to change the colors here too// [/class] [class=Image] border:1px SOLID #fcfcde; line-height:0px; //The border around the image// [/class] [class=Line] border-top:1px SOLID #142740; margin-top:10px; margin-bottom:10px; //The tiny lines everywhere// //You can see here they have a set width, which is the shorter length, the bottom two lines have a specific 'style' which overrides what happens here to make them full length. if you need longer lines, copy and paste the style from the bottom two (be careful, they float right, making them too big at the top messes the code up) If you need the bottom lines to be shorter, delete the Style=" and such// [/class] [div class="BackgroundPicture"] [div class="BackgroundColor"]

• Siv's story
• Tormud's story

• [div class="Img"] [div class="Image"] [/div][/div] [div class="Name"] Siv Haralddöthier of The Company of Farlon's Marauders [/div]
  
  Siv would have been bleeding out if not for the Elemental's help - even though it would not be stated by The Orc. As the both of them arrived to Varric's tent instead of her own. She continued to be unconscious as she recovered from the uneven battle.
  
  Although she been struggling to wake up on her own, the dream itself drift her soul back to her idea of heaven - the great hall. She dreamed of a great hall of golden's floor and red rivers, a bridge made out bones of giants and columns risen underneath the ground as spears thrusting upon the shields that cover the ceiling of the whole room. At the end of it all, A deer that shines with the strength of the sun itself, blank eyes that stare forward without blinking once, and whenever it does if ever, it could feel as if the whole universe would go dark. The warmth not of heat but of welcoming surrounded her as never before, the thunder commanded all the dead within the hall, venerated legends of the Old, to feast without end as they all earned so.
  
  She made only one single step forward as a hand stopped her completely, reaching for her chest-guard. The man holding her was her father himself. Though he looked different, without the burden of life, the cloak of the years gone for good. The attrition of war seemed lighter on him and his scars seemed comforting. He smiled as everything in him shined and said, "Sibby- Please remember..." both of his hands reaching out to her shoulders as she already began to feel at home, "You will always be my döthier..."
  
  The dreamn began to collapse as the deer, known to be the guarding of the sanctuary, began to scream powerfully. Harald took his ax ready for battle as the feast ended and the war began, and all those within the hall raised their sword - and as the scream became stronger, just as its glowing figured followed, by the second; Siv, woke, up.
  
  Siv breath deeply, the truth pain came quickly as a bolt of electricity crossed her spine. The discomfort forced her to breath quicker and giving away her state of consciousness, her awareness. Her hand reached out for her chest as she remembered the pain of being burned, cut, impaled and left to die on the forest. She thought that was what had happened, her memory failing as she recovered bits to bits of what happened for her to end up there - upon a table, defeated and among people she was meant to work with, for Varrick's sake.
  
  She no longer was within the air the of the dream, the warmth of good company. She did no longer have her spear nor her pride of an undefeated warrior but the wounds of failure still spreading through her veins like the flow of a corrupted river caring her breath down into silence. At the end, she devised Varrick who was just simply feasting... feasting for something she could not yet bring herself to understand.
  
  She attempted to raise from her laying position, sit down and face his liege as she want meant to do so in some sense of her righteous duty. "Varrick-" She responded in kind, resting a hand still on her chest and her whole other arm extending to face him, "-I failed." throwing the whole blame of the hunting failure on her, and her alone. [div class="Line"][/div] Mentions: Athanas
  Interactions: Athanas
  Location: Camp's main tent.
• [div class="Img"] [div class="Image"] [/div][/div] [div class="Name"] Ser Tormud Argorian, Knight of the Dawn [/div]
  
  Beyond the long sea before the end of the green plains and the beginning of the new lands of drought and sand laid a sea of no water, but an endless space of nothingness which on its own had a sense of beauty. Perhaps by lack of any forestation or shadows to cast refugee from the sun, but everywhere one could go within this strange land was hard to withstand for long periods - even less without water.
  
  Even at horseback can be a travel without return, and those whom drift away would soon find themselves forgotten by the world at large. Tormund, did not.
  
  He had ridden at night, covering his mouth and head protecting it all against the sands storms and the other-worldly anomalies people would see it as god-like punishment of the above. He knew better - somehow he did know where to go, where to hide - where to venture from where to gain a power many would pay a heavy price to posses. A blade so fine and elegant that many would judge its durability - but the metal's endurance could not be matched by any other steel, its grace was far beyond comparison to any masterpiece of any kingdom.
  
  It was not out of thirst of glory he looked after the blade, like many would assume. It was not out of pride or some lost dream of self-confidence in his ability to surpass all those known obstacles, and the unknown too. It was not but duty that brought him within the dark cave, before the skeleton of a human whose last action, before his last breath taken, to hide the weapon within the place he had selected as tomb and ever lasting grave.
  
  Once he, Ser Tormud Argorian, pulled the blade away from the corpse - the bones nearly evaporated into dust, he left the truth payment he had to offer to the weapon to fully work, he quickly found out as his right arm blazed. He first screamed as he dropped the blade - but as soon as he did so the flames dissipated. He looked at his clothes and saw no marks, no signs of the burning fire. He placed his hands delicately over the hilt and his glove slowly began to burn - a flame that did not burn. He gasped in fear, but that fear gave only more curiosity - a curiosity that lead to an understanding. He took his dagger and cut his palm slightly, the blood poured out and as he took the sword upwards, and the flames arisen once more... he cared the blade with his own blood, and the once flaming fire from his clothes transferred quickly to the weapon. The light continued to burn and burn powerfully, lighting the cave whole. His old eyes witnessed something he never thought possible... all those years... to find true purpose.
  
  The flames began to lower after a few minutes, until the blade no longer was cursed by the magical flames - as if it finally found an owner for it to be carried into battle.
  
  Days passed as he ride away from the distant place. His heavy armor and debilitated horse ended up within the Wild's borders. He took camp within its forest only to find himself target from some poachers, bandits. The duo seemed a bit wary to steal from an armored knight - but he was old, and easily mistaken from an old stray senile fool whose times of glory had long passed. Their weapons shined before the sight of the moon-light, allowing the naked eye to spot their devices yet only to have them disappear under the shadows of the trees which lay there to witness the thievery.
  
  The Knight took his new blade with one hand, he stared down both of them as they came closer. His off-hand slowly reached for the edge of the weapon without a glove to cover his own flesh. He made a quick cut, one that would take time for him to recover - but little did it matter to him now. The weapon did its due, and the flames alone demoralized his enemies. They both backed down, though too late for the steel to find an entrance to one of them. Its friend, stumble before a branch as he screamed in fear. Tormud removed the entire weapon out of the new flaming beacon that was his enemy and pointed the end of his sword back to the last remaining of his enemy. But instead of killing him, he pierced the ground and watched as the fire of his own weapon banished quickly.
  
  He walked forward towards the thief, knelt and armed himself with a dagger. Then he said, "A man should deliver its last thoughts to a man's home, boy." he responded as he checked out his own wound from his off-hand. The man began to beg for his life, his lost weapon gone from his agile-hand. "Look at you- barely a man, a few hairs in your balls and you have the audacity to rob an old man."He young lad stared down the flaming corpse, at the sight of it he barely could say anything back to the armored man whom said, at spotting it, "Worry not- I pierced his heart. He did not feel the flames. Friend of yours?"
  
  He shook his head, finally speaking, "Barely knew him- " he nodded in awe, understanding little of why they were together, not even sure if he was saying the truth, "-are you- going to kill me?"
  
  He looked back at him, inspecting him up and down as he almost got the feeling he shit his own pants, "Are you?" Are you going to kill me? the poachers shivered and shook his head quickly, "Good!" a he helped him up and aimed away, "Go through there, keep walking till the end of it all. Go to the Wild, find a job. Don't be a fool and you might live a long - Long long life just as I did, boy"
  
  The man looked at him confused and asked, "Can't I just go with you."
  
  The man smiled as he took the blade once more back to his possessions, smirked back at the boy and responded, "Where I go- might get you kill quickly than my own blade, boy. Run."
  
  The rest remained on horseback - as Ser Tormund just began his own ghost-like story, living a witness to deliver his story. A knight whose blade brings the light of the sun upon those who stand against him... even though each time he used the weapon, it would cost him his off-hand utility completely. He cared little about it, even though he bandaged it to keep the scar away from naked eye. He sang his way out from the forest - happy like never before...

[div class="Line"][/div] [/div] [/div]

 

[Lemercer]

[class=base] background:white; width:90%; margin:10px auto; padding:10px; //Forward slashes are comments and do no show up in the final design,// //these are to help you find everything easily and explain some code as well. // //These comments put be with in a class or script tags in order to be hidden, from what I know. // //Long URls are images// //# followed by letter and numbers are Hex codes or color codes// //the only color named by its name is White// //this is the white background// //or the base of the design// [/class] [class=hidden] display: none; //this allows all the content I don't want to be seen until clicked to be hidden, or not on display until I code otherwise// [/class] [class=Img] border:2px solid #000000; line-height:0px; margin-left:5px; pointer-events:none; //the border around the Image// [/class] [class=ImagButton] background:#AA0101; border-radius:5px; margin:0px Auto;margin-right:5px; padding:5px; float:left; Width:70%; text-align:center; float:left; font-family:Book Antiqua; color:White; //The red buttons above the Images// [/class] [class name=ImagButton state=hover] cursor:pointer; Background-color:#48107E; color:red; //what the Imagebutton looks like// // when a cursor hovers over it// [/class] [class=ImagButtonClick] background:#330B5A; border-radius:5px; margin:10px Auto; margin-right:5px; padding:5px; float:left; Width:70%; color:white; //what the image button looks like when clicked on// [/class] [script class=ImagButton on=click] removeClass ImagButtonClick ImagButton addClass ImagButtonClick //above allows the user to toggle between a clicked and non-clicked colored button// set link (getText) //above sets the link to what ever text I put on the button within a div// if (eq "${link}" "Currently") (hide Head) if (eq "${link}" "Currently") (show Tags) if (eq "${link}" "Currently") (show Image) if (eq "${link}" "Currently") (hide Current) if (eq "${link}" "Image") (show Head) if (eq "${link}" "Image") (hide Tags) if (eq "${link}" "Image") (show Current) if (eq "${link}" "Image") (hide Image) // So this more or less translates to// //if the div has the text "Currently" in it it's set as a link and when clicked it will hide the Head class (my image) and show the Tags class and the class named Image (the new button)// //oh and below
means to put a break in the code, like pressing the enter button. it's necessary since the beginning means no breaks unless other wise told with that br code// //for anyone who doesn't know// [/script]

[div class="Desktop base" style="color:black;"]

[div class="Current ImagButton" style="Margin-left:15px;"]Currently

[div class="Image ImagButton hidden" style="Margin-left:15px;"]Image[/div]

[div class="Img Head"][/div] [div class="Tags hidden" style="margin-left:5px;"]Interacting:
Mentioned: txlos
Located: Millhold training rounds
[/div]

KILIAN SLOAN

An exasperated sigh slipped past the green captain's tongue, an exhaustion present on his lips. "Aye the stubborn rascal is". As the pair closed the distance towards the paddock, Kilian placed the reins of the work horse in the hands of the eldest Mercer, an exchange Rogan seemed most fond of. Straw and hay crunched beneath the brigand's leather boots as he opened the stable door and let loose his loyal buckskin, letting the stallion run free, knowing Argo's heart far too well than to expect him to be confined for the morn and in turn willingly be shackled again by a saddle. " 'ye know, I understand your father's actions" Said the ginger, his eyes following Argo as his mane flew through the winter air, the beating of hoofs across freshly plowed grass finding it's way to his ears. He could feel the confused and angered eyes of a frustrated woman behind him as he watched on, and in seeking to mitigate Linota's feelings he attempted to reassure her. "But i'm afraid you're no sheep" He said with a sly grin, a calloused finger reaching out into the chilled wind to reference the frolicking before them. " 'Ye a bit more like Argo here las" The sound of his smile bleeding through his words. It was this quality that seemed to pull him to Linota, that ever-present rebellious spirit.

Kilian spun on a heel, his back facing his steed as Argo began to make rounds closer to his partner, the man's sharp eyes, the kind whose vision saw beyond any silly facade his audience might throw at him, met Linota's. "Lin, you were born high" a worn hand reached out to touch Linota's, Kilian's strikingly different skin brushing again's the woman's palm as he took the reins from her. "But that don't make you who you are, not truly" Kilian reached out a dirt covered hand, pressing softly against Linota's chest just where her heart would be "That does". Another smile found it's place on the sellsword's face, an expression he seemed unable to hide around the naive girl. Again the man spun, struggling to put away the stubborn grey-mane, cursing all the while as the sinking hoof's of Argo began to approach the party.​

[/div] Code by @AgWordSmith[/div]