Roleplayer Guild - Forum Roleplaying Games

Here is a newbies first time at starting a Thread here. Feel free to join in anyone, its a self introduction story so feel free to insert yourself at some point, just try to make it believable (even this world of sorcery has laws of physics and happenstance.) So here it goes...

War had not been something the people of Tiernash were familiar with, but then the world had met disaster. The once great land of Tiernash was ripped apart by an unknown force causing chaos to reign over the world, bringing five distinct nations into existence and forever changing the layout of the world.
Norwall, land under major control by the humans, tolerance of elven-kind held, if only be the fact they stay mainly to their forest homes. Norwall is the Southwestern, yet most central nation on the Continent, outposts mark the border letting in only caravans and tearing anything else without proper cause to be there to shreds. Dinhearth, land designated to the demi-humans by the tyrannical dictators of humans, for they wish their supplies more then the actual races. The lands for the demi-humans is small, and left in the northwestern parts of the Continent, mountainous and nearly unlivable for all but those who tunnel. Ma-joor, land of constant strife by goblin-kind, often the battlefield for every nation to try and gain more land by exterminating the inhabitants is left to the southeast of the continent. Farfall, land reigned by giant-kin is located to the northeast of the continent, in size rivaling Norwall. The Isles home of the drakes, they are left alone for fear of their strength, the land masses in the Sea of Storms all along the eastern coasts, yet they spread far through the north and east. Some even say there is a whole other continent on the other side of the Sea of Storms filled with nothing but dragons, but no one has had the courage to try and discover that place.
Hero’s have risen and fallen during these seemingly endless wars. But it became clear that the Giants and Humans were to hold most of the continent. Dwarves, Gnomes, Goblins, Orcs, they all became the minorities of the world, but on land that could barely hold them all and expected to provide for the greater nations. The demi-humans began their new lives by digging into the earth and expanding what meager land they had and managed to survive, even if they were practically slaves. Goblin-kind simply rebelled against their so called “superiors” and continued to fight, though time and again they have been out-matched by both Humans and Giants and have been pushed to a very small section of land. Yet they too began to dig, not to supply for their ‘captors’ but to both hide and wait for the time they can strike back in full force.
An uneasy peace bean at this time. Humans and Giants simply building up their military's till they can either dislodge Goblin-kind or eliminate each other completely. No one knows for sure what broke the peace, maybe it was the Astromancer Kelendis and his creations, perhaps the Gods were angry at the people of Tiernash for some discretion against them. Sadly, there are few who actually care what caused all this to begin. Even fewer have taken the initiative to find even hints as to what caused the peace to be shattered, let alone what had actually caused the fighting to begin.
Now it almost seems frivolous to find the truth anymore. Some think even if someone could find out what caused all the violence, what good would it do? Would it stop the Humans and Giants ambition for domination? Would it control the Dragons and send them to burn the world? It almost seems like a worthless endeavor, but some races, such as the dwarves and elves, have sent out their own to scour the world for the answer in hopes that it might set them free. Even the mages of the world have sent out their own envoys in hopes that there might be further advancement in their own field.
As representatives of all races, guilds and clans scatter across the world, tension between them mounts ever higher. The hurts and prejudices brought by the old wars ensure that enemies far outnumber allies wherever one might venture. Merchants and travelers alike rarely reach their destinations, and never without grievous casualties.
It is the golden age for mercenaries.

Jaws dropped as the two men walked down the street; looking for the shadiest bar in the city. Between the two of them, they were quite possibly the oddest thing ever to come down that particular street. The one on the left was dressed all in purple and yellow, and just happened to be juggling a combination of knives, axes, rocks, darts, and liquor bottles. The other was hooded, cloaked, and robed all in black and red; muttering in strange languages to himself, and running his hands over a thick silver amulet. Anyone who looked might have thought the circus was coming to town. “Well,” Thought Molotov with a snicker “It sort of is.” Shamandeil flinched when the juggler laughed; he usually did that. Still, it was hard to blame him because the sound usually preceded an explosion.

And Shamandeil still expects an explosion just whenever Molotov begins juggling or at least a fire. Granted the gawking of all the people of this city is hard to point out what is causing it. It might be the pointy ears both he and Molotov have, may just be the fool juggling dangerous items, its just so hard to pin point. But it is plain that they are both interested and possibly terrified at them being there. Seeing as they are starting to near the Drunken Monkey, the bar best suited for what recruiting they have planned. He stops stroking his amulet while Molotov starts putting a few of his "juggling equipment" away. He begins just running his hand over his oddly shaped quarter staff, almost like a wrist thick wooden claymore, though on what would be the cross-piece of a real sword, 3 gems are implanted in there. A sapphire, a ruby, and an amethyst, all held in place by small silver charms covering as few facets as possible.
Entering the Drunken Monkey, Shamandeil and Molotov find an empty table and begin setting things up. The put up a small sign that says "Join the Discarded Sheaths" and sit. Shamandeil begins reading through a book while waiting for anyone showing interest to show up, knowing Molotov, he begins juggling his knives again.

Molotov tried to amuse himself by juggling 20 knives one handed, but the wait was so damn long.
"When you dragged me away from the circus to start a mercenary company, I assumed I'd get the chance to blow things up." he griped, tossing one of his "special" cocktails across the room, igniting a barstool.