GamesRadar Forums: The Lakes District ...

Pixie

Posts: 2,180
Registered: 7/14/07

The Lakes District
Posted: Aug 30, 2009 7:57 PM

In the year 1932 of the fourth age, the countries of Darmeth and Taren went to war. The warlord Sarkel had united the opposing bands and factions of Taren through sheer force of will and numerous hostages to forge a nation to be feared. In the search for new territories, he attempted to push into Darmeth. However, Darmeth would not be easily cowed and rose to meet this threat. Aye, meet it and vanquish it, driving back the raiding parties whilst the best of the KingÂ?s SpymasterÂ?s people took care of King Sarkel. Now the threat is over, a wise manÂ?s words are apparent.

The aftermath takes far longer than the war.

Freed from SarkelÂ?s hold, the tribes and races of Taren have broken apart, some retreating to lick their wounds, others rebuilding their lives. None have tried to fill the void in country leadership, letting it return to the Council of Ten in the countryÂ?s capital. The border regions are nigh impossible to live in, left over for bandits and oppurtunists. While the KingÂ?s armies have ridden out to clear the remaining threats from the area, refugees had flooded further into Darmeth.

Some have come from the lands just south of the border. Some are from the border land itself, truly neither Darmethi or Tarenian in nationality. Some refugees are the more peaceable folk from Taren, who fled across the border before King SarkelÂ?s forces could raze their homes to the ground. There are even the few from the armies of Sarkel, either deserters or those forced into war and released by his death. Regardless of where they are from, hundreds, nay thousands, of refugees have inundated the areas around the Darmethi Basin, and in particular have moved into Kingsberth, the summer capital of Darmeth.

Kingsberth has attempted to absorb the number of immigrants, but without much room many have been shunted into the Lakes, the areas in and around the large shallow body of water that is a massive and slow eddy of the Halene River which runs through the Darmethi Basin. Some of these refugees had contacts, family and friends in Kingsberth who have helped them find homes and employment. Others who are not so lucky have wound up in the slums and lower boroughs of Kingsberth. Some do honest work for coppers, many do it on the sly. Some find careers and respect, others find boot heels. But what everybody is looking for is a home.

There are tensions in the Lakes. Some of the refugees are harmless enough, swallowed up by the crowds and accepted by the locals. Others are less low key, some species less than welcome. Not everybody wants to live in the same household as a naga or have dragonets flying overhead. Wild and wonderous things lived up in the borderlands and now theyÂ?ve moved into the neighbourhood. New laws, new rules, new codes to try and cope with the influx have been implemented. Whether things will truly settle is yet to be seen.

HereÂ?s the dealio. You guys wanted a roleplay, this is what Sin and I (and Choco <3) cooked up. You can be any species you want, even *gasp* human. Just try to be a bit realistic on logistics. (A full grown dragon or something thatÂ?s 9 foot tall and 3 foot wide arenÂ?t going to fit in the narrow streets of this medieval slum, now are they?) YouÂ?re ordinary people (though thatÂ?s debatable according to the locals) who want to pick up your lives again. Somehow, youÂ?ve ended up in the Lakes or near there. Maybe youÂ?re working in a bakery or a smithy because you have heatproof hands. Are you empathetic? Perhaps childcare would work. Not into the trades? The local wardens are doing their best to hire new people. If you have a criminal who can fly, you want flying wardens to chase them.

If you guys want a character sheet as a guide, IÂ?ll pop a nice template up. If youÂ?re going to be something other than human, please include a racial description at some point, cus we all know thereÂ?s a million versions of things like elves, and some people might want to go a bit left field with their species. All clear? READYSETGO!

(Am driving up to Auckland today, 2 1/2 hours either way, to visit a cousin. I'll put up my character when I get back. <3)

Message was edited by: Pixie

Demoneyes10

Posts: 3,941
Registered: 6/9/07

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Aug 30, 2009 8:53 PM

in response to: Pixie

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Innovative.
I am guessing something like this for character info:

Name:
Species:
Age:
Gender:
Occupation:
Affiliation (family/friends/groups/nation):
Skills/Abilities:
Background info:

Maybe some other stuff. I'll think about what to put in.
Or wait for you to put up a main info sheet. Idk.

Pixie

Posts: 2,180
Registered: 7/14/07

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Aug 31, 2009 7:30 AM

in response to: Demoneyes10

Reply

Pretty much, though species descriptors would be very much appreciated. <3

Name: Pika Thalta

Age: 17 years

Gender: Female

Species: Perryco
Species description: Perryco are not a large race, with adult males standing to 5Â?6 in height, and females to 5Â?4. Anywhere between 5 foot and 5Â?10 is considered normal. The females are more slender than the males who are fairly compact in design. Ears are large with light fur on them, situated on the upper sides of the head and face outwards from the head. Their hands appear slender and long as they lack a pinkie finger or toe, so have only four digits on their hands and feet. They also have long, prehensile tails that when relaxed reach to their ankles on average though shorter and longer are possible. At the end of these tails are tufts though thereÂ?s a light fur on the rest. Faces are slightly different from humans, nose is smoothed from cheeks to tip, vaguely like a cat. Eyes are larger and more oval than round, with the outsides tilted up.

Personal description: Hair is short cut at about 2 inches long all over, a reddish brown colour as is her tuft. Her skin is a light caramel colour, her eyes are an intense hazel. Pika is 5Â?2, lightly muscled from work and being a scamp. Pika isnÂ?t strong, but she is fast. Favours bright colours, wooden jewellery and feathers, and shorts. SheÂ?s unpierced and has no tattoos.

Occupation: Works as a waitress in a busy tavern during the afternoons and evenings, alternating throughout the week. SheÂ?s also paid coppers for her portraits of well known patrons which sit on the walls in the tavernÂ?s common room. Also does some work as an informant for the Wardens.

Affiliations: Occasionally helps the Wardens looking for information or leads as she doesnÂ?t like crims messing up her home, and gets paid for it. Also affiliated with family and clan groupings, Thelta of Chikmai.

Abilities/skills: Can dance (at pressing of tavern patrons), draws portraits, can do some tumbling, plays the wooden flute.

Opinion on immigrants/locals: Pika has no problem with them in general as her family were immigrants once. She often acts as intermediary for those who have no idea in their new home. Takes serious exception to immigrants who start causing problems as they just ruin the reputations she keeps trying to build.

Background: Pika may not be from Kingsberth by ancestry, but her family has been living in and around the Lakes for the past 8 generations. As a result theyÂ?re smaller than country Perryco as thereÂ?s not as much protein in their diet. (Mostly vegeterian as meatÂ?s expensive.) Perryco are known for caravans and trading, so PikaÂ?s grandparents on both sides are traders. When more recent human inhabitants start to get lippy about the immigrants, Pika tartly reminds them that her familyÂ?s been there longer than theirs so they have no room for bitching.

This ain't finished, but here's a pic of Pika so you guys can have a visual of her. It broke the page, so here's a link.http://i980.photobucket.com/albums/ae288/Arkielpixie/Drawings/Pika.jpg

Demoneyes10

Posts: 3,941
Registered: 6/9/07

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Aug 31, 2009 8:37 AM

in response to: Pixie

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Name: Lenin Law

Age: 17?

Gender: Male

Species: Daemon
Species description: Daemons were known as a dark race in ancient lore. Many wars and disasters were caused by this race. And to this day people greatly fear them. To the point of having them publicly executed. People have long since thought that demons devour other species, particularly humans, for sustenance. They appear no different from an average human really. Which can cause violent witch-hunts for them at times. But of course this human form is a ruse, all daemons have their one true form which depends on their lineage/ancestry (range from being adorable to demonic and ghastly in appearance). Daemons can be as 100x stronger than an average human or as strong as an average human. Some say they have supernatural powers, whether this is a myth created by those who fear them or truth is not entirely known. They are known to live on for centuries remaining to look as they did in their youth.

Personal description: Despite his race's claim to fame, Lenin isn't all that threatening and he thinks humans have too many harmful calories to eat. Lenin Law's true form is comically the same as his human form with the exception of two cat ears on his head. Which causes many people to confuse him with Nekomatas, etc. This saves him some trouble with immigration agencies and such. He is of average hieght 5'10. He has dark brown hair, just to the point of being black. He has a slightly pale complexion. His eyes have a certain charm to them, being light brown but not quite. He tries to act serious and calm to strangers, but it usually ends with him giving a semi-bad impression (due to being embarrassed by little things around him). To children, he's like a lovable big brother. To women he's just met, he's a nice guy. To women he's known before, he's a real pervert. To men, he's an alright guy. To men who were acquainted with women he's known, he's trouble.

Occupation: Wandering Monk/Minister. Despite his young age, he has been accepted to the Church of W. as a monk/minister. He has some knowledge in basic medicine. Although he may be a Monk, it doesn't mean he hasn't known a woman...

Affiliations: The Church of W. He hasn't pledged allegiance to any nation really.

Abilities/skills: Well, maintaining a human form can be an ability I guess. As a daemon, he has a strong longevity being able to survive wounds that would kill a human with only minor injuries. But he has to rest for long periods of time if he sustains dangerous injuries. It is during this time, when he is as frail as a normal human.

Opinion on immigrants/locals: Since he has just arrived from a distant temple, he has it hard fitting in the streets of his new home. He doesn't seem to mind people that much, and they don't seem to mind him that much. But there are those who are suspicious of him. He treats everyone with the same respect they treat him. But he does act a lot kinder to cute girls...

Background: Having set off from his temple from the East, he has made his new home here. He has no known relatives, he often tells those in the local church stories of his times in the East. He has been all but almost completely unaware of any major conflicts/wars in the area. So forgive his naivety, it seems such matters do not concern him very much. Although as mentioned before, those who are suspicious of him almost have a right to do so. For that temple in the East is said to have been destroyed 114 years ago and only ruins remain.

Hope this is good enough. Tell me if I should edit any other stuff into it. First time doing something like this, so I went with something you can play with. :P

TheCanuck

Posts: 286
Registered: 8/29/09

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Aug 31, 2009 11:25 PM

in response to: Demoneyes10

Reply

Looks semi entertaining! I play D&D, so why not :D

Name: Ostian DeLafour

Gender: Male

Species: Human ( Creative me :P )

Species Description: Humans are a historically new race, but have expanded quickly over the land, not as adept in magic as the older races, but have there main attribute in diversity, and there ability to adapt to there surroundings.

Personal Description: About 6'2, and rather heavy set, but not fat. 210 Lbs. He is a Man if finesse and art. He is 28 years old and has Brown hair and Dark brown eyes. He is well tanned from being outside all day, sketching the scenery or just helping others. He is rather muscular and uses this to help others with things that they couldn't do themselves like heavy lifting and the such. Besides art he is a skilled swordsman and archer, but only for Exercise and a hobby. He is much of a Gentle giant at heart, for being large and imposing one would not assume he has much talent in the fine arts and finesse. After fighting in the wars with the Darmethi against the Warlord he does not wish to cause harm to anyone again.

Occupation: A freelance Artist who will draw a picture to brighten someones day. Teaches Archery and swordsman ship.

Affiliations: None...

Abilities/Skills: He has great talent in art, and all things requiring a steady hand. He is an adept swordsman and Marksman, but does not wish to use the skills for harm. He is rather large and is capable of reasonable feats of strength.

Opinion of locals/ Immigrants: He welcomes all and does not discriminate between anything or anyone. He is willing to help and for the benefit of a good deed.

Background: Growing up in a small village in a wide open plain, he was involved in the arts as a young boy, despite his father wanting him to train as a fighter because of his size. He came to the Lake District hoping to further his knowledge in the arts and to meet new people. After fighting in the wars he wishes to forget his bloody past, and bloody name he earned on the battlefield.

Sinsational

Posts: 457
Registered: 4/15/09

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 1, 2009 12:53 AM

in response to: Pixie

Reply

I might end up hating this if we get 12987643980+ people playing.

Name: Brom il'Wyrdon (which translates to 'of the Wolf' in the Barbaric tongue)

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Species: Human Barbarian

Height: 6'5"

Weight: 240lbs.

Occupation: Currently Unemployed

Affiliation (family/friends/groups/nation): Currently Neutral; Ex-soldier in Sarkel's Tarenian army; Former Druid of the Wolf Tribe of the Outer Plains.

Physical Description: Brom is a mass of corded muscles and gargantuan strength. His dark brown hair falls gently to his shoulders, some grouped together in braids. Deep blue tattoos adorn his pale skin as badges of honor; each one giving authority and respect among his people. His garments are a mix of wolf skins and common clothes, hinting at his time among Sarkel's army and the change that it had upon him. Eravan, his large greatsword, can be seen strapped across his back, its deep runic carvings showing light stains of blood.

Background info: The Wolf Tribe of the Outer Plains were once a proud and noble people. Truth, honor, community; those were their ways. They had no need for the ways of the modern civilizations. That was.. until Sarkel and his band of thugs and cutthroats twisted Brom's people with their greed and their hatred. The warlord had created a division in the Tribe's ranks. He had tempted them with gold and the power to rid them of the nuisance of their neighboring tribes. All those that refused to fight for him, died. And all those who resisted the warlord's corruption were quickly subdued. Brom had fought hard for the preservation of his people.. but in the end he was forcibly placed into the ranks of the warlord's army. He fought like a warrior that was already dead. For it reflected the way he felt inside. He had lost his wife and child during his tribe's civil war, and eyes that were once bright and exuberant turned cold and distant.

There was a time when Brom could smile. When he would wake with the morning sun and have a broad joy etched in his face. He would arise from his large tent, leaving the warmth of his wife's bed in order to greet the day the way his tribe's archdruids had taught him: in battle. But the glory of batte had left his heart. It now just felt like needless violence and bloodshed. He had vowed on the day his wife and daughter died, that he would no longer call upon his druidic powers.. penance for not being able to save his people. They felt like an abomination writhing in his stomach.

He had nearly died several times throughout the war with the Darmethi people, but somehow, he still found a way to survive. But now.. with the war over and the aftermath of the atrocities he had committed on those fields of battle confronting him every day.. he has to find a new life in the city that once called him enemy: Kingsberth.

Skills/Abilities: The druids of the Wolf Tribe called upon the powers of the primal magicks to aid them in battle. They could heal, strengthen themselves, even tear the very ground you stood on asunder. But the most valuable of the druid's powers was the ability to take on the characteristics of their totem spirit animal, the Wolf. Essentially, they became werewolves.. only they were able to control when they changed.

Pixie

Posts: 2,180
Registered: 7/14/07

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 1, 2009 1:15 AM

in response to: Pixie

Reply

Some interesting people here. Shall we wait for others to post sheets, or get a gentle start going so we can work ourselves into our characters?

TheCanuck

Posts: 286
Registered: 8/29/09

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 1, 2009 1:22 AM

in response to: Pixie

Reply

Mush! Mush! I would greatly love to start! And Nice artwork BTW, in case you haven't looked back into my Ye Olde art thread

Phantasmagorical

Posts: 2,879
Registered: 9/4/06

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 1, 2009 1:30 AM

in response to: TheCanuck

Reply

Nein. I forbid you to start without me.

TheCanuck

Posts: 286
Registered: 8/29/09

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 1, 2009 1:48 AM

in response to: Phantasmagorical

Reply

Then get to it! :P

Phantasmagorical

Posts: 2,879
Registered: 9/4/06

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 1, 2009 10:18 AM

in response to: TheCanuck

Reply

Name: Larreton Ducard

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Age: 20

Height: 6'1"

Weight: 213lbs

Affiliation: The Knights of Kingsberth

Occupation: Patrol and instruction of squires.

Character Description: Larreton Ducard could perhaps be seen as the shining example of how a knight is expected to look. From head-to-toe his whole visage indicates his role as a Knight of Kingsberth.

Trimmed, black hair is neatly combed back upon his head. From beneath his brow gaze two piercing blue eyes; yet they hold no frigidness, merely a solemn calmness that tends to affect anyone under his scrutiny. A prominent nose and thin lips make up the rest of his features. Perhaps the only thing some would say is lacking is a knightly mustache, but Larreton always secretly felt that those looked silly, much preferring to have a clean shave.

His constant training as a squire had given him a stocky, muscular build. With broad shoulders and a barrel chest, anyone could tell there was hardly an ounce of unwanted fat on him. This helps him greatly on patrol when there's ever a scuffle, for most any troublemaker would take one look at his intimidating appearance and quickly lose all bravado. Larreton, however, believes strongly in the Knight's Code and, being quick of thought, prefers to rely on his sharp wit rather than his brawny strength.

Right and wrong, good and evil... these things weigh heavily in his heart and mind, as such he dictates all his actions with chivalry and a strong morality. He goes to great lengths to show respect to all, to be fair to all, and to bring proper justice to any situation.

As a knight he wears full plate mail adorned with the Kingdom's regalia. The sight of the gleaming, silver armor bearing the cross and sword brings about an authority that none but the most respected of individuals could hope to match. Larreton is no slouch when it comes to appearance, for he considers himself to be a true "gentleman soldier", keeping all parts of his armor well-polished and greased. His family emblem - a sword backed by four golden feathers - seems to shine especially bright.

Background: The family Ducard has been in the knighthood for many generations. An honor that's transgressed from father to son. Because of such a long standing presence in the King's army, the name Ducard has a notable ring, and their family could be considered upper class by all accounts. With a manor located in the wealthy district of Kingsberth, a personal stable, and a number of servants, they were a well respected and - for some - envied family.

Larreton was only a boy of fifteen when rumors of razing and unrest in the lands of Taren began to filter among the people of Darmeth. There would be nights when his father would return home from the barracks with tales of a warlord who was uniting the tribes of barbarians into a formidable army, that they were seizing more and more land, and heading in the direction of Darmeth. Grave, unnerving news for the older, experienced knights - those who had dealt with smaller scuffles with the roaming tribes in the past. But to a newly enlisted squire, it only brought glorified fantasies. Larreton and the rest of the squires would mock battle with each other whenever they were on their own, conquering invisible foes and imagining themselves becoming men through the rights of battle.

But as the inevitable war loomed closer and closer, even the young ones felt the cold fear of the impending confrontation. The fun and games disappeared, replaced with young men preparing their older counterparts for war. Larreton was seventeen now, hardly a man, but he was still considered a part of the army. As his father's squire it was his duty to take care of the horse, carry the sword and shield, and help his senior into the knight's elaborate armor. It was always a moment of inner pride whenever he would receive a small salute and watch his father race off to join the ranks of Darmeth heading into battle.

Battle... war... Larreton lost all pretense for what those words really meant when the day of the first assault came. So much death and pain is a shock for anyone so young and it brushed away his daydreams of grandeur in an instant. A year passed and the war hardened him, eventually the violence numbed away into a dull ache in his chest, a cold sweat in the night, always threatening to overwhelm him with the suffering he witnessed with every battle. But when your father is among the bloodshed, there's hardly time to worry about yourself.

It was during the second year that Larreton's father perished in battle. Before that battle his father had come up to him. Perhaps one just knows the right time; for he clapped Larreton on the shoulder, looked him in the eye, and passed on a blessing only a father can give to his son. About life, about being a man, and what being a good soldier meant. Words that Larreton would never forget as long as he lived. Later that day he had made sure to give his father a proper burial, holding back the tears and saluting his father's passing as an honorable warrior of Darmeth. Only later in the solitude of his tent did he let the anguish take hold of him.

For Larreton it was as if the world had ended, but the war raged on despite his loss, and he was assigned as a squire to various other knights up until the end of the war. When at last Darmeth defeated the legions of Taren, Larreton was a man of twenty years. He returned home to the fan fair, with the glory of victory. Yet it was a home that he could hardly recognize, for Kingsberth was now the home to the many refugees that had been uprooted from their own land. It was an unpleasant surprise to see the streets filled with Tarenians, for the ache of his father's death still filled him.

There was still a duty to uphold, even though the war was over. Larreton was knighted, continuing on the legacy of the Ducards. He was quickly assigned to the Lake district to oversee the refugees, along with instructing new squires in the various species that now resided in the land. It was a quiet job compared to the war, yet it held a certain trickiness that Larreton was unused to... keeping the peace among the very people that he had been helping to fight for three years was no easy task. He could handle it, though... for he has his father's blessing.

TheCanuck

Posts: 286
Registered: 8/29/09

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 1, 2009 10:20 PM

in response to: Phantasmagorical

Reply

Oh, looks like the post got removed???

Phantasmagorical

Posts: 2,879
Registered: 9/4/06

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 2, 2009 2:55 AM

in response to: TheCanuck

Reply

Yes, it wasn't a serious character sheet.

EmoMuffin

Posts: 505
Registered: 4/7/08

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 2, 2009 3:03 AM

in response to: Pixie

Reply

Name: Jurgis Harrt

Age: 27

Species: Turuu. The Turuu are a species outwardly resembling tall, reddish-skinned humans, with few outward difference. Internally, however, they are extremely different. Instead of ribs, they have solid plates of bone, articulated by joints. Their muscles are much more powerful, but unremarkable in outward appearance. The only other discernible difference is a remarkable tolerance to pain, to the extent that they are almost uncaring of injuries that befall them, often with dangerous repercussions.

Personal Description: Jurgis is extremely wiry, even for the normally thin Tuuru, standing 6'7" but weighing only 150 pounds. His face is extremely gaunt, his prominent cheekbones poking out like those on a skull, his dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail, and his sunken green eyes giving a permanent thousand-yard stare. He has a reputation as being very unstable.

Job: Unemployed

Affiliations: None

Abilities: Very tough, as much of his race, but also very intelligent and calculating.

Opinion on Immigrants: Favorable, as he himself is one.

Background: At 22, after several failed apprenticeships in Taren, he decided to drift to Darmeth for work, eventually ending up as a security guard for a warehouse in the Lakes. At his job, he gained a reputation for being mentally unstable, often talking to himself and flying into an uncontrollable rage when even mildly provoked. The warehouse manager capitalized on this, and there were no more threats to the warehouse, due in part to the "Turuu Terror", a name he earned after killing and dismembering an unfortunate robber. The manager fired him for that, but kept up the illusion of Jurgis's presence at the warehouse. Jurgis found himself out of work, and out of options. He tried thievery, but a twisted sense of nobility kept him from success. Instead, he started extorting the other criminals of the Lakes, but still living hand to mouth.

TheCanuck

Posts: 286
Registered: 8/29/09

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 2, 2009 4:03 AM

in response to: EmoMuffin

Reply

Ooo I like that character sheet! But I want to see what will happen between my Ex Soldier and That glorious knight

Pixie

Posts: 2,180
Registered: 7/14/07

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 2, 2009 6:23 AM

in response to: TheCanuck

Reply

For the umpteenth time, Pika plucked something out of Marie's grasp that the toddler was NOT supposed to consume. Not that she really knew that. Irate, Pika picked up her small charge, brown eyes catching grey.

Listen you! That's a brush with ink on it, and it ain't for eating!

Marie didn't seem to register the admonishment, burbling something at Pika in her native tongue and reaching for the slightly worn eye of a peacock feather in Pika's hairclip. Having numerous young neices and nephews meant that Pika had become nearly precognitive in the ways of small children as she deftly outmanouvered Marie and tucked her under her arm. Picking up the brush, Pika decided that there was to be no more writing while babysitting under 5s. Popping it on one of the shelves that ringed her room in the eaves at different levels and out of the reach of small children, Pika heard the 3rd bell of the afternoon.

Lookit the time, Marie. Time fer you to go home, now innit?

Marie didn't reply, inspecting one of Pika's many wooden bead bracelets. Hefting the child onto her hip instead of dangling in midair, Pika padded across the creaking boards. Being home, her boots were by the door. Ignoring them, the Perryco opened her door. It was an irregular shape, one corner higher than the other, and opened onto a small stairway. The reason Pika got the space for such good rent was that she was somebody who could actually fit in under the eaves whilst standing. Climbing down the stairs well, more ladder really, onto the top floor's landing, Pika carried the child to the ground floor apartment of the two story building, excluding her own room. Pika didn't bother with her hands at the left room, her tail winding up to open the door as she announced herself.

Lunki, it's a mouse and a little terror.

Inside, Lunki looked up from her weaving. She must have just gotten back from selling her craft, the street dust still on her tentacles. The cecaelia smiled at her child and the resident babysitter. Marie turned herself upside down, stubby little tentacles wrapped around Pika's arm. With a sigh, Pika presented Lunki's offspring, which she gently accepted and then wrapped a long and elegant tentacle around the waist of.

We've had another lesson in what not to eat,

Pika informed Lunki with a wide grin. The cecaelia laughed and pointed to the sideboard. There was a copper there, Pika's payment. With a nod of thanks, Pika picked it up and pocketed it in her shorts, leaving the mother and child. Despite Lunki being there just on a year with her family of three, the other child being older and having a job someplace, Pika still wasn't sure just how much Darmethi she spoke. Trotting back up the stairs, Pika decided she'd get her shoes on and take a stroll around the daymarket before getting to the tavern in time for the fourth bell and the start of her shift. Finding her belt with her belt knife, money bag and pouch, Pika buckled it on and then yanked her boots on. Cheerful, she bounced down the stairs and out the door, tugging on her loose grey and red blouse to adjust it over her brown shorts. Outside, the city teemed with life, the smells and sounds of the city. Flowers, rotting meat, cooked food, dung, shouting, laughing, crying. There was talk of paving more of the Lakes, to help stop the muck that was the streets when it was winter and rained. Now though, it was summer and dry but not so that the air was choked with dust. Nice weather, folk sat out on their doorsteps to work and gossip. There were more strange shapes these days than Pika remembered, moving around an Elf who managed to look elegant in clothing washed to a fade and patched to within an inch of its life. She always kept an eye on her purse, the city was filled with petty thieves.

TheCanuck

Posts: 286
Registered: 8/29/09

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 2, 2009 10:02 PM

in response to: Pixie

Reply

Milling about the streets was the best Ostian could do at this hour, his classes did not start for another hour, so he had time to waste. While walking Ostian saw a recently arrived family of refugees. They were moving all there possessions into a small boarding house, not that they had a large amount of things in the first place. While the family were trying to move a Large Iron-bound trunk into the doorway Ostian stopped and looked at the refugees.

The father of the family looked up from the trunk at the sudden shadow that was cast over the doorway...

Oh! No, please, we just came here! my family and I are poor! We would have nothing that interests you! please! Don't h-harm us!

Ostian Chuckled and bent down in front of the large trunk with a wide grin on his face, his beard parting enough to show his teeth...

Hahahaha! I am not here to take your things Sir, I was just walking by and happened to notice that you were having some trouble moving this finely crafted trunk, and I wish to help you.

The Father, taken back from the Ostian's demeanor and flattery of the trunk stood up and shook Ostians hand. After Ostian help them with there things the mans wife offered Ostian some bread for his troubles, Politely refusing, Ostian Bowed, and went on his way through the busy streets. Ostian bent down to inspect his worn boots wich had recently acquired another hole in them.

Hey you... Come 'ere...

Ostian looked up from his boots to see a man with his face covered by a hood across a carriage from him, blocking the lower half of the mans body. The hooded man ran to the opposite side of the carriage and brandished a knife at Ostian

Gimme' your things of worth and you live to see another day!

Ostian realizing the man was serious stood up revealing his true height and stature. He towered over the hooded assailant by over 5 inches. As the thief realized he had bitten off more than he could chew he slowly backed off into the ally from which he came, but Ostian having little tolerance for his type pursued the thief into the ally, and after a series of cry's and wails, came out dragging the thief by one of his legs and presented him to the nearest Law keeper.

Ah! caught another one have we Ostian? well, I'll make sure that this one gets locked up like the others.

replied the Lawman and took the thief in the direction of the stockades. Soon realizing what time it was Ostian hurried off to the militia post where he taught the populace and occasionally a few guards in swordplay and archery. Upon arriving he found the usual small gathering of Men and some boys not older than 16 warming up for there lessons. A particularly older man walked up to Ostian and shook his hand, Ostian's old friend from the war, Rogal had shown up for a lesson.

Ostian you old war dog you! I heard you have taken up the quite life and started to paint? Surely a great and skilled fighter as you must be kidding?

Ostian laughed and welcomed his old friend and explained the long winded story of his artistic life over a few sword drills. But when it came to archery a young man of 18 strode up and boasted he can better Ostian in a test of marksmanship. Ostian, never letting a challenge go to waste, he accepts.

Ha! watch this Ostian, I have been training every day since my first class, there is no way you can beat me now!

The young man boasted and took his shot from 100 paces. A faint *thwack* sound is heard and the runner goes to inspect the target. As he returns he says the arrow his home 3 inches from center. The young man smiles triumphantly at Ostian. Ostian just politly smiles and remarks at the wonderful shot. Ostain picks up his own bow, from use in the war has many tales about it. moves another hundred paces and takes his shot. And the runner agains goes to inspect the shot. As he returns with an expression of shock he says the arrows was no more than half an inch from center... at 200 paces.

Thats... impossible... there's just... No WAY!!!

The bow drops his bow and thunders off, angry at Ostians towering triumph. Ostain just smiles and thanks the other for there praise at his skills, and then walks to his favorite spot over viewing the lake, and pulls out his sketchpad and charcoal, and just waits for the perfect moment to start...

EmoMuffin

Posts: 505
Registered: 4/7/08

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 2, 2009 11:23 PM

in response to: Pixie

Reply

Nights were Jugis's favorite times. It gave him a sadistic pleasure to frighten people; coming out of the shadows, his figure looked demonic and murderous.

This night was a special one. Tonight was the night he collected the dues the petty thieves and muggers that he had intimidated over the past month. Just ahead, he saw a small group of his subjects, leaning against a wall unaware of his presence. He thought he would have some fun.

Just as he opened his mouth, he was cut short by a jab to the back from a knife. The blade bouncing harmlessly off his rib plates, Jurgis wheeled around and seized his assailant by the wrist and slinging him to the ground, where a swift stomp winded him. Hearing the thump of the attacker's fall, the thieves wandered over to check the commotion.

Brothers! Help me!, screeched the assailant.

Brothers, he says? You know him?, Jurgis directed at the thieves.

Yes-, I mean no! We have no idea who he is!, replied one of the thieves, hastily covering his tracks. But the damage had been done.

Without uttering another word, Jurgis pulled his attacker off the ground, picked up a brick, and in one devastating blow turned the man's jaw into a mushy pulp.

The thieves silently shuffled over and gave Jurgis their earnings.

MonkeyIslandHop...

Posts: 4
Registered: 9/1/09

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 3, 2009 8:00 PM

in response to: Pixie

Reply

I'm new here go easy on me.
Name:Rawll

Species:Vampire; this ancient race dates back beyond history originating from the mountains of Suffleplex, a cold place rarely hit by sunlight the serve terrain makes it not accessible for humans. Vampires usually remain in Suffleplex praying on weary travelers passing through nearby Nosgolaith(A small port town mainly occupied by blacksmiths). For this reason Suffleplex is a feared place, avoided by many if it can be helped.

Age:uknown

Gender:Male

Occupation:Has no occupation, stalks the roughest slum of Darmeth.

Affiliation:None

Skills/Abilities:The ability to be silent, almost ghost like. Skin is slightly thicker than your average humans. Great hunter.

Background info: Rawll is 5"8, slender build, broad shoulders with two black wings that he keeps concealed under a hooded cape.
He has brown shoulder length hair. His appearence is that of a human but after days of not feeding his features become gaunt his teeth become fangs. When he has not fed he tries to hide away so people don't hunt him down for being a vampire. His eyes are emerald green that fade to yellow when he hasn't fed.

Phantasmagorical

Posts: 2,879
Registered: 9/4/06

Re: The Lakes District
Posted: Sep 5, 2009 1:43 AM

in response to: Pixie

Reply

Larreton spurred his steed among the throngs of various townspeople that flooded through the streets. On horseback was the only way to even remotely make your way unmolested through the crowds during the busy time of the day - even then, the knight would get jostled when one of the larger species among the masses would bump against his saddle, 'causing his horse to nicker in an annoyed manner. With a slight pull on the horse's reins he brought his mount to an unsteady halt, pulling it more off to the side to give it a slight reprieve from the oppressive atmosphere.

In all honesty he needed the break just as much. This morning had brought about an unpleasant session with his weekly class of squires. While eager and capable, occasionally they would get a bit hotheaded and leave Larreton with a dull headache. A heated debate had arisen about the refugees concerning the usual grief about the whole (to Larreton) disaster involving a small space and many, many people; human and not. As always the knight had to step in and put an end to the squabbling, requiring a few swifts smacks upside the head to the squires who remained stubborn. It wasn't his job to discuss politics, but merely to teach the various aspects of the dangerous species, if ever one found themselves so unlucky. Nothing more and nothing less.

Or so Larreton wished, sighing and resuming his sluggish pace towards the market, where ultimately the most problems arouse. As always his bearing was strong and regal - stiff of back, but comfortable in the saddle. His features were always carefully neutral, but his eyes never lost the sharp glint of someone always on the lookout for trouble. A convincing mask that hid away the turbulent nature of the thoughts that seemed to plague him so often.

In truth he didn't approve of the majority of races that currently resided in Kingsberth. Who could blame him when he had seen many of the very beings around him fight in the war? Some were harmless, but others... others he would prefer never to see again. It was the same with mostly everyone in Kingsberth. While they were supposed to be in a time of peace and unity, that didn't stop the dirty looks and muttered curses among the streets. Even now Larreton was getting such treatment from various creatures throughout the crowd.

'The war is over so it would seem. Yet it still rages on in the hearts of many,'

Larreton thought sadly, finally entering the market area where he would stand guard for a couple hours. It seemed like everything was normal at the moment. The usual cacophony of buyers and sellers rising among the general din of a busy crowd. He would always try his best to filter the plethora of smells - both sweet, sour, and putrid - that always permeated this place. But no matter how light he breathed it was all but useless to escape the taint of the mixed aromas. The stands and shops were so closely packed together with people that it was impossible to get around on his horse any longer. So he brought his steed to the anchored post just outside the market, dismounting with mechanical procession and tying her up. Giving her a thank-you pat on the flank, he tied on the feeding bag, and started up his rounds on foot...

Future

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