Deadwood Deer
Ten Thousand Club
Warning to Readers: This RP is, while not very explicit compared to some, not intended to be read or partaken in by younger readers and writers. This game contains descriptions of gore, violence, some adult jokes, and some other things not intended for younger audiences. We try not to be explicit, but this is not for younger readers. If you take offense to anything described above or can reasonably be assumed to be within the sphere of what is described above, please find something else to read.
Also this is a bastardized hybridization of Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition and Dragon's Dogma, so nothing is going to make sense when combined if you only look at it from the lens of one.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The day turned to night around the island. The island was said to be cursed, or rather it's ruins were. Not many people would voluntarily go to the island, it was the very reason it wasn't on any maps! No cartographer could make it onto the island and escape alive. In the past, small units of soldiers had been sent to investigate, but they never returned. So more soldiers were sent, and they never returned. Eventually, the king stopped sending soldiers. The island was generally considered off-limits. Not by law, of course, if you wanted to go die that was on you, but people tried to keep each other from visiting that cursed ruins. Yet even so, a small boat pulled up to the island. The one man willing to ferry people to the cursed island had found work once more in a young treasure hunter by the name of Jerry.
Jerry didn't look like he would last long. He was skinny, and wore no protective armor aside from a steel gauntlet on his left hand. At his hip was a thin sword, good for precision thrusting and perhaps cutting, but not much else, and a perfectly balanced, in his estimation, dagger. He used a green strip of worn cloth as a bandana to keep his hair out of his face. Jerry was a treasure hunter, and he believed that, with as many people as had gone into the ruins, surely something of great value was contained within. There was an old phrase for young fools like Jerry. "Beware the old, in a profession where one usually dies young. Pity the young in a profession where one rarely grows old."
For all Jerry's optimism about the treasures hidden within the ruins, he did come with some semblance of preparation. Within his backpack were enough supplies that he could spend a week diving into the ruins and still have enough food to make it back to the top, with all the typical equipment of a crafty rogue, from lockpicks to climbing gear, and a trunk he'd paid to have wheels attached for ease of movement. Jerry wasn't a strong man, but he was a smart one. "Thanks, Tim," Jerry said to the boatman as he unloaded his belongings at the dock that somehow still stood. Tim wasn't the boatman's name, but nobody knew what it was, so Jerry just called him Tim. A small coin pouch flew through the air into Tim's outstretched palm before the boatman grunted and shoved off from the dock. Part of their arrangement was that Tim would return every few days in case Jerry made it out, but after a month, if Jerry didn't return, Tim was free to do what he wished with the rest of Jerry's belongings at the inn.
"Okay, night island," Jerry said, rolling his head on his shoulders to pop the joints, "Bring me that treasure." Shouldering his pack and picking up the handles of his rolling trunk, Jerry began looking for an entryway into the ruins.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Also this is a bastardized hybridization of Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition and Dragon's Dogma, so nothing is going to make sense when combined if you only look at it from the lens of one.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The day turned to night around the island. The island was said to be cursed, or rather it's ruins were. Not many people would voluntarily go to the island, it was the very reason it wasn't on any maps! No cartographer could make it onto the island and escape alive. In the past, small units of soldiers had been sent to investigate, but they never returned. So more soldiers were sent, and they never returned. Eventually, the king stopped sending soldiers. The island was generally considered off-limits. Not by law, of course, if you wanted to go die that was on you, but people tried to keep each other from visiting that cursed ruins. Yet even so, a small boat pulled up to the island. The one man willing to ferry people to the cursed island had found work once more in a young treasure hunter by the name of Jerry.
Jerry didn't look like he would last long. He was skinny, and wore no protective armor aside from a steel gauntlet on his left hand. At his hip was a thin sword, good for precision thrusting and perhaps cutting, but not much else, and a perfectly balanced, in his estimation, dagger. He used a green strip of worn cloth as a bandana to keep his hair out of his face. Jerry was a treasure hunter, and he believed that, with as many people as had gone into the ruins, surely something of great value was contained within. There was an old phrase for young fools like Jerry. "Beware the old, in a profession where one usually dies young. Pity the young in a profession where one rarely grows old."
For all Jerry's optimism about the treasures hidden within the ruins, he did come with some semblance of preparation. Within his backpack were enough supplies that he could spend a week diving into the ruins and still have enough food to make it back to the top, with all the typical equipment of a crafty rogue, from lockpicks to climbing gear, and a trunk he'd paid to have wheels attached for ease of movement. Jerry wasn't a strong man, but he was a smart one. "Thanks, Tim," Jerry said to the boatman as he unloaded his belongings at the dock that somehow still stood. Tim wasn't the boatman's name, but nobody knew what it was, so Jerry just called him Tim. A small coin pouch flew through the air into Tim's outstretched palm before the boatman grunted and shoved off from the dock. Part of their arrangement was that Tim would return every few days in case Jerry made it out, but after a month, if Jerry didn't return, Tim was free to do what he wished with the rest of Jerry's belongings at the inn.
"Okay, night island," Jerry said, rolling his head on his shoulders to pop the joints, "Bring me that treasure." Shouldering his pack and picking up the handles of his rolling trunk, Jerry began looking for an entryway into the ruins.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Last edited: