Fantasy SHARD -- Broken World

[Beckoncall]

The world as it was previously known shattered centuries ago. The planet now consists of islands of various sizes floating in the void, connected only by a fickle and dangerous magical network known as "the ways" -- On each island isolated city-states, risen up or preserved from destruction in the cataclysm are all that remain. This story begins on one such world shard -- the fortified city-state aptly named "Bastion."

Bastion is an isolated fortress city floating in the ether -- surrounded by ruins running trackless to the south, and sporting generous plots of arable land to it's north. The city of Bastion is separated into several tiers: from the outermost districts in the shadow of the city's massive outer wall where the poor, the common, and the criminal carve out a way of life, to the middle tiered gardens and shops districts of the craftsmen, to the upper park tiers of the rich and palatial spires of the richest in the city.

It is a time of opportunity and adventure -- brave heroes are called upon to pacify the wonton gangs of the outer districts, to face the wild animals and rampaging monsters of the ruins to give the cramped city of bastion more land to expand into, and the bravest are dared to enter to ways and seek paths of trade and communication with other floating islands in the ether.

Will you heed the call?

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The story begins, as many do, in a Tavern at an Inn -- "The Legacy of Coin" -- In the center tiers of the city of Bastion -- from here, the sprawl of the outlaying districts seems like so much smoke and shadow, while the higher tiers of the city glitter above. It is here that would-be heroes are offered free room and board for as long as they work to resolve Bastion's problems.

For now, three issues loom large in the city:

1) Gangs in the outer districts have gotten out of hand. Too many factions and not enough leadership, the commoners of the outer districts are constantly subject to wonton crime sprees and the warring of various groups of outlaws. Crime in the outer city must be brought to heel if peace in the upper districts is to be assured. There is a bounty on wanton criminals and a great reward for those who can see to an end of the turf-wars.

2) Beyond the outer districts, through the gate of the great outer wall, the ruins of the old city await the truly brave or suicidal. Currently a plague of wolves is said to patrol outside the walls, and goblins and their kin skulk fearlessly at the foot of Bastion's defenses. Territory must be taken back -- and animal and monster alike must learn that the shadow of the city a place for the lands of men once more...

3) The floating island of Bastion has been isolated for too long. Only proven warriors are sought to enter "The ways" and re-establish contact with neighboring islands in the ether and the services of the trade guilds that navigate the fearscape between the floating city-states. Bastion is a city that takes raw materials and converts them into finished goods -- new supply lines must be opened or production, and the wheels of commerce in the city, will begin to falter.

The Innkeeper waits patiently at the bar for arriving heroes -- perhaps with a bit of advice and counsel for coin.

This is how the story of Shard begins... will you be a part of it?

SHARD CHARACTER SHEETS: Fantasy - SHARD -- Character sheets

SHARD discord channel: Discord - Free voice and text chat for gamers

 

[Pat]

Naoj Laru takes a seat at the bar after his preparations for the adventure ahead of him were complete. "Innkeeper," he began, "do you recall any particularly memorable bounties available for the members of the Bastion outer district gangs? I have no coin to speak of to pay for the information, but I wouldn't turn my nose up at any chores or errands you have in mind, so long as they are honest, if it meant I had a place to start tracking down these wanted men. Otherwise, surely you must know of individuals amongst them who deserve to face punishment for their crimes earlier than most."

 

[Beckoncall]

The Innkeeper turns to Naoj Laru and his face turns to consternation.

"Way too much ill-doing out there to mark and member, set and record. But I will say there are three gangs that are more organized than most -- The "blue cudgels", which specialize in robbery and intimidation make their home somewhere in the south outer districts, and are presently in open war with the "eight dirty fingers" gang -- they're intruders and break-safes... who stick to the rooftops in the outer districts in general. The "Ghol" are just a gang of ruffians and muscle who keep the north districts pretty locked down. Besides that you have every few blocks being a place for a squabble or turf war to go round. Keep your coins, if you can do anything about the crime in the outer district, I'd consider it a public service."

 

[Pat]

"Then you have my thanks." Naoj Laru spoke, rising to his feet. He exited the Legacy of Coin, sparing little more than an appraising glance to Rhomm and Freya, and set out for the northern outer districts to confront the members of the Ghol gang, his right hand resting on the pommel of his sheathed steel backsword. If he was going to have any luck at all in his hunt, it would be treading familiar ground.

 

[Keybored]

Freya & Rhomm
Location: City of Bastion, “The Legacy of Coin” Inn
Interacting with: Beckoncall


The more dimly lit corners of taverns were usually a preferred location for meetups of a more shady origin, even a place like The Legacy of Coin didn’t escape dealings like that. Secretive and quiet, away from prying eyes. A complete contrast to the loudly told tale coming from the group of men sitting at one of the larger tables in one of those exact corners. “-And ya won’t believe it, I tell ya. The stubborn fool comes back! Draggin’ a heap o’metal the size of a door. Tells me he’s gonna slice me in half, he did.” The voice, however, didn’t belong to any of the man. Loud, to be sure, but it had a certain homely charm to it. Upbeat and inviting, reminding of the welcoming nature of a small town where everyone knows everyone.

That voice belonged to Freya. A fiery, red-haired woman in her 30s currently locked in a bitter struggle for dominion in an arm-wrestling competition. Strands of wavy hair sticking to her forehead as the sweat beads started to appear more regularly, yet apparently the opponent wasn’t quite worth that last push of effort. Instead Freya had decided to keep her arm locked upright. The old wood of the table digging into her elbow as she eagerly told her tale to the crowd surrounding her. She observed the smiles, listened to the cheering of those long past their fifth drink, and took notice of the disbelief in a particular man’s eyes. “Ya don’t buy it, do ya? I’m not a liar, ya know. Rhomm! Tell this one ‘ere you were there as we- Rhomm?”

Her partner, a massive Ursuri man clad in armor had decided there were more interesting things to pursue for the time being. “I’ll be back shortly Freya, do not break any arms while I’m gone to have a chat.” Rhomm glanced back at the opponent Freya had been locked in battle with. Though the bear had intended it to be a joke, it didn’t come through as such. Resulting in the man’s retreat as he retracted his arm from the ‘battlefield’. Rhomm sighed in frustration upon seeing the result of his attempt to joke. He hadn’t intended to break up the fun, but that’s how it seemed to be more often than not. Too serious. “Keeper,” the bear started as he sat down at the bar, next to a fairly young man. The stool creaking under his weight. Convincing Rhomm it might be better to stand until the stools were reinforced. “I heard you were speaking of the outer districts. Anything new? Oh- and before it slips my mind,” Rhomm rested his arms on the bar and placed down a small canvas bag in front. Filled with some type of coin, judging from the sound. “The bar is closed to her, do we have an understanding?”


Mentions: Pat

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

The cantankerous sound of metal plates clashing against the paved street filled the neighborhood as a hulking suit of armor, roughly in the shape of the City Guard's uniform and armor design, trotted down the road. It paused and what appeared to be a helmet with a visor moved slightly as if the suit of armor was looking at the building. The Legacy of Coin inn had been attracting several... odd people for some reason as the local residents couldn't help but stare at this large moving suit of armor. After a few seconds of silence, the suit of armor moved to pull the door open. Gently trying to get through the door frame, the suit of armor finally arrived at its destination. "Grug is here for job." It loudly said as the sound also reverberated within its armor. "Ahhh!" the suit of armor yelled in pain as it tried to cover what seemed to be its ears if it didn't have a helmet. "Ohh, right." It muttered as it then lifted its visor.

Under all that plate and metal was a face of a grey skinned orc, who could now talk as loudly as it wanted without hurting his own eardrums. "Grug here to open magic roads. Many orc from Apple Tribe work in city. More trade, more work for Apple Tribe. More work mean happy orcs. Happy orcs mean Grug do good job as chieftain." the orc loudly said to all in the Inn. "So, what Grug do? Where go?"

 

[Beckoncall]

Heyitsjiwon Keybored Pat :

The bartender speaks to the Ursine Giant almost meekly as he summons his courage wiping the timbers of the bar. "The taps are closed to the war-lass, gotcha."

At the same time hearing the musings of Grug -- basically what was going on in town... the barkeep says sheepishly -- that Fellow, Naoj -- has gone to the north side of town to whip up trouble with the Ghol gang. It's bound to go south for him... maybe a couple of extra heroes might balance the gravity of what's about to fall about that upstart northsider's head! -- the gangs are all stuck to their sides of the outdistricts, but the most skills thieves are starting to capitalize on the inner districts. One gang has to come out on top, or the Old thieves guild, now little more than a figure-head, needs to get it's leash around the punks and thugs of this city once again. There's talk of intrigue south of the city, in the ruins -- of great wolves gathering their lessers into vicious packs... but I'm more concerned with packs of desperate humans, especially on this side of the city wall..."

Naoj Laru --- having a head start on all these events, had made his way to a plaza on the north side of town. Quickly surrounded by 11 or so thugs and thieves, they gave him their "greetings" --

"Naoj -- we know you, you're a northsider, so we won't shake you down... but these is dangerous days in the outer city -- and the Ghol gang is lookin' to come out on top. Word is your handy with a blade, so the bosses of course want to know if you is with us or against us. We bump heads with the east-towners soon -- things coming to a head and the battles gonna be taking place on the rooftops. You with us -- or should we fleece you and take your weapons and armor to serve the cause?"

 

[Pat]

"Tell your bosses to come here themselves if they want to talk," Naoj Laru angrily spat, drawing his backsword from its sheath with a hiss of steel on leather. He lunged forward towards the speaker of the group of Ghols, fire in his eyes, and attempted to slash the blade through the thug to make an opening in their ranks so he could escape.

 

[Beckoncall]

The attacked thug lunged back, anticipating aggression from an armed hero -- an Naoj pushed his way into the northside crowds.

"Let him go" the leader of the rag-tag group burped -- looking down at the slice in his tunic that could have spilled his insides.

"Send the 'Milk-eyed-Mender' to deal with ol' Naoj. He's from northfields, so he should be on our side... if he won't bend, then the mender will fix him."

The group went back to hassling citizenry and draping themselves on merchant carts like they owned them...

 

[Pat]

Naoj Laru took a moment to regain his breath after he put some distance between himself and the plaza in an empty alleyway before setting out once again to confront the Ghols in a different, more secluded area, of the northern outer districts.

 

[Beckoncall]

It isn't long before Naoj makes his way through a series of backstreets. The Ghols are avoiding him... a bad sign most would take.

At a T junction between a dead end, the way he came and a way out into another plaza, a skittering form descends from the rooftops blocking his most likely next avenue of egress.

The human(oid) is a mass of tattered rags, with masks along his back, his belt, and his face -- porcelain white, most smeared with filth. Naoj knows this "creature" as the "Milk eyed Mender" -- assassin for the Ghol gang, and for a moment is flattered that they just might have sent their best to deal with him.

The mender stands with his back to Naoj, 30 feet ahead of him. "Approach if you want to parley, or let's take it into the alleyway if you haven't the stomach for talking." says the mender.

Windows shutter and any would be witnesses rush off from the area... leaving Naoj alone with the "Mender"...

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

"Ohh, so all the jobs are going south." Grug said as he vigorously nodded, making a loud clattering sound with his reinforced armor as the plates slightly flapped from Grug's vigorous nodding. "Grug head South and try to find Gnoll. Knock a few heads. Thieves punished for stealing. Make them beg for forgiveness. And since Grug is good guard and Chieftain, Grug forgive them... maybe after tribute. Then Grug keep heading south to the ruins. Dominate wolf tribes. Grug could use new hunting dog. Kill two birds with big stone."

Grug grunted with happiness as he was proud of his brilliant strategy to kill two birds with one large stone, after all both jobs were towards the south or at least heading there. Thus, believing that he would hopefully meet up with Naoj, or at least find some gang heads to crack while on his way to the ruins, Grug head out to the street, heading south and making many heads turn as they watched a large suit of armor marching down the road.

 

[Beckoncall]

Upon reaching the outer wall of Bastion Grug is confronted by a market of people selling all manner of rubble, trinkets, and all manner of loot on various blankets supposedly from, or for, adventuring in the ruins.

At the south gate itself Grug sees a collected host of twenty blue-cudgels -- recognizable by their blue-painted maces, mauls and morningstars -- some of which wear capes and pelts of wolves around and over their armor.

"IT'S A WAR OUT THERE AGAINST THE WOLVES!" one of the thugs barks out to Grug.

"Our gang could use some extra muscle trying to take down one of the 'Dire ones' -- scatter the rest of them for easier huntin'. Great armored Orc -- join the blue cudgels in our great wolf hunt!"

 

[Pat]

Naoj Laru's sword hand clenched tightly around the pommel of his backsword. The Mender was beyond strength, a nightmarish childhood boogeyman made flesh. No one could stand against the monster, and no one would ever dare to, except him. Yet, even though the insurmountable opponent before him demanded an answer, he could only feel a strangely awakening stillness wash over him; an unfeeling emotionless acceptance of what was to come, and an unnervingly calm determination to draw the cutthroat's blood. "This day I will strike you down, so that all of Bastion may know there are heroes in this city. Greet me as you would death," he spoke as he pulled his sword free of it's scabbard, defiantly standing his ground, "and fight me in the light of a new dawn."

 

[Beckoncall]

The Mender didn't wait.

Spiraling and leaping towards Naoj -- Naoj got a shot around and on the back of his would-be assassin, throwing him off his well architechtured attack and stepping aside to the scraping black-tipped talons of the Mender as they turned to face each other once again.

The Mender pounced again, Naoj's defenses hard pressed as he could feel the fingers of the mender seeking any purchase on his defenses.

Sent sailing backward, the mender acrobatically backflipped sending a wooden dumpster behind him sailing at Naoj, covering him with both trash and what could prove to be, in moments, a stinking coffin if the mender pressed his attack when Naoj was so vulnerable.

But when Naoj flipped the dumpster over -- the mender was nowhere in sight. Not content with a fair fight Naoj could see the trickle of blood of his would-be assassin dripping down the pipes of one of the buildings leading up to a rooftop and away.

Naoj wondered if he would see the Mender coming next time. So much for fair fights in the outer districts...

Pat

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

"Gang..." Grug muttered under his visor. "GRUG IS CHIEFTAIN OF APPLE TRIBE. GRUG NO JOIN GANG. GANG JOIN GRUG." He roared as it then echoed inside his helmet. Now partially deaf, Grug took off his helmet so that he could speak as loudly as he wanted and to be able to hear what the thugs had to say. "Grug get paid to end gang. So, Grug get paid twice by beating gang AND getting new pet wolf. Enough gold to feed Apple Tribe for two seasons. OR Gang join Grug, we get many pet wolf and go find other Gangs and make them join Grug... make make even more gold. Apple Tribe take care of its people. Gang no need to steal. Can make many more gold as mercenary. Live in middle district. Get big armor like Grug! Big like Apple! Not small like Berry Tribe. Berry Tribe armor and clubs are small like berry."

Grug spat in disgust as he spoke of the historical rival of Apple Tribe, Berry Tribe. Berry Tribe were technically kin, but they were... dishonorable in the Orc world. They relied on tricks and mischief to accomplish things. So, while their warriors were not as strong or big as Apple Tribe warriors, they used poison and other nasty things to even the playing field. Things that they had learned from their Goblin "kin". A wicked Goblin shaman had effectively subverted the Berry Tribe hierarchy and was the true leader of Berry Tribe with the last few Chieftains having been puppets of the Goblin Shaman. Leaving little love for Goblins in Apple Tribe. While Grug was largely Chieftain in name, at least he wasn't just a tool to poison the mind of his tribe, which is why he viewed the entire Berry Tribe with disdain.

 

[Pat]

Naoj Laru's heart thundered in the aftermath of his first encounter with the Mender. He swept his gaze around the silenced neighborhood, triumphantly raising his bloodied sword into the air for all of those brave enough to look upon it. "I have singlehandedly reminded the Mender of his mortality!" He shouted up and down the emptied streets for all of those courageous enough to hear his words. "The coward is fleeing with his tail between his legs to his masters even now to lick his wounds, feeling fear for the first time! Spread the word in every plaza and every tavern, the Ghols are coming to an end, and I, Naoj Laru, will deliver you their heads!" He swung his sword through the air with the end of his speech, cleaning the steel stained with the blood of his enemy, and sheathed it, walking back to where he was first ambushed to cut down any and all thugs that would face him.

 

[Beckoncall]

Heyitsjiwon :

The blue Cudgels looked at Grug as if he was mad.

"We're loyal to boss blue and we ain't no mercenaries -- but we don't want to be enemies with the likes of you -- if you would lead us, I bid you take point on our wolf-hunting expedition as the first of feats to demonstrate the might of this... "Apple Clan"... if you can tumble with us, we'd consider you a friend rather than a rival."

Either way, the blue-cudgels prepared to leave the outer market to go into the ruins, with or without Grug as their leader/pointman...

 

[Beckoncall]

Pat :

The Ghols had gone to ground, it would seem... the northern districts free, for the moment, of their filth. Word spread of Naoj's proclaimation to bring war upon them and his unexpected survival/victory against the Milk-eyed-Mender... Naoj hears tell of another upset elsewhere in town, in the southern districts, where an orc has declared himself would-be master of the blue cudgels.

It's a strange day in the city... Naoj feels many eyes upon him, most of friendly townsfolk but he's sure among them are the lookouts of the Ghol Gang... waiting for him to let his guard down...

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

"Blue Boss... pah. Lame name like Berry Tribe. Probably hasn't ever been in a dual. Must find out who this is." Grug muttered. With all that in mind, Grug lumbered towards the south to deal with the wolf issue. It seemed like they would bring him to this Blue Boss after helping them with the Wolves. Grug donned his helmet. He lifted his giant slab of metal that was roughly in the shape of a pavise in one hand and drew his large sword with the other, intending to charge first into battle against the wolves. Or the strongest ones at the very least.

 

[Pat]

Naoj Laru decides to head to the eastern outer districts to find the Eight Dirty Fingers gang. If a turf war was brewing between them and the Ghols, he needed to figure out what exactly was going on.

 

[Beckoncall]

Heyitsjiwon :

Another wolf!

They were onto them the moment the gate closed on them. First little scrabbly starving ones but bigger ones quickly rousted themselves from holes everywhere in the scattered debris that composed the ruins immediately outside the massive walls.

Grug, being biggest (and noisiest) grabbed more than his share of attention -- so much so that the cudgels began to fall back and pick off the approaching wolves with crossbows as Grug gutted and flattened them that threw themselves against him. With a nagging bite on the back of his neck and a wound behind one knee that didn't seem to stop bleeding, he was showing signs of fatigue when the Alpha showed up -- a Grey Dire wolf as large as a horse.

From inside him helmet Grugs eyes glowed and met his opponent. The cudgels loaded their bows and fell back behind a fallen wall of debris...

The smell of Grug's blood hung in the air...

 

[Self_Plagiarism]

After years of stealing from the rich and giving to himself, Denzel got really good at it. Using his shadow magic, he would often steal praised possessions from some of the greatest houses in Bastion and sell it to the highest bidder on the black market. It is when he tried to steal from the Royal family that he was caught for the very first time. Building up a reputation as one of the best thieves in all of Bastion, he became quite familiar with the "Legacy of Coin" over the years. Working for this lousy city was one of the two options the king gave him, either work for the city until declared innocent or get sentenced to death, the option was clear to Denzel. As he approached the inn, he couldn't help but think of the days that he would steal from the loyal patrons of this very establishment. He wasn't greeted with the most pleasant welcoming, most just staring at him with disgust, "Woah, what did I do to you all to make you all so angry?" he asked in a playful tone. Making his way through the crowded entrance, he spoke up to the innkeeper that he had known for a while, "I guess you heard of my situation," Denzel started, he was absolutely sure that the whole town knew what he had done, most were probably wondering why he was still alive. "Anyway, I need work to do, the only way to keep my head."
Beckoncall

 

[Beckoncall]

Pat :

Naoj could not escape that feeling he was being watched, and again not as the new face of justice in the outer districts. The feeling of encroaching paranoia abruptly stopped at the gates to the east districts... where eight-finger sentries peeped from every high window and paced on high terraces.

Naoj was quickly met by agents of the eight fingers for word of him had preceded his arrival. He was ushered into a tavern and poured two tankards of ale, the foam scraped off with a dagger that was licked by one of the thieves assembled to give some surety they hadn't been drugged.

"The days of the Gaol gangs have come -- it is time for a more organized fashion of crime to hold sway in the city. The common folk are getting pushed about too much by their burlies when we all know the best loot is in the markets and the higher tiers. That's the reason for the fuedin' Naoj, ol' son -- we want thieves guilds running the shows again, and tithes from the rich to avoid our attentions and bribes to the city wardens and such. Less blood, more coin. The Gaol'ers are just muggers and crack-skulls... and since the enemy of my enemy is my friend what do you say ol Naoj, that we strike up a team-like arrangement and ring in a more civilized age... if you are against all the gangs that's fine too, but there's no reason we can't work crosswise until we have to land in your crosshairs... or better to put it ours, lad."

And with that explanation, more ale was poured for all the thieves, thirty thick in number in this small greasy tavern. They watched Naoj eye his Ale, hoping his taking a drinking to mean the two "sides" had an understanding...

 

[Beckoncall]

Self_Plagiarism :

The Innkeeper cleaned a spot for Denzel at the bar, he crossed his arms while listening to his bit then obligingly poured Denzel his beverage.

"Work, you say?"

"Whispers around town that bloodshed is about to break out among the gangs, and the ruins call to any heroes who would pacify them. I hear word that folk in the upper tiers will pay good coin for live beasts of note from inside the ruins, and there has been talk about re-opening trade routes through the ways with other floating islands. If I was you, I'd seek my fortune looking for a stake in the fights brewing in the street, or head out of the city and put a dent in the godless throngs of monsters beyond the walls."

"Either line of work should be good for a coin, but the smell of treasure in those ruins might be more to your liking..."