1) Don't act overpowered. I'm giving you guys some freedom so try not to abuse it. Don't be afraid to be creative, just don't go all
Oh i smazh teh badiez wth mi sper mega axxxeee + ko thm allllzzzz lololoolololol @!*$@#
Please don't do that...
2) That brings me to my second point. Grammar! It does't have to be perfect. I'm by no means an amazing writer. But I expect whatever is posted to be legible!
3) Keep cursing to a minimum. If the situation allows it, OK. If you're just doing it to do it... We'll talk.
4) Try and wait for at least 2 people to post after you before posting a second time. The only time this doesn't apply is if I've just posted an update or something.
5) Romance is fine. Just make sure the RP stays more important then the romance.
6) Stay within the Lore that I have set out. I'll try and continuously update the Lore in the OOC. Now, if something would make sense then its fine. Just no gnomes with wings or like aliens coming from space to eat your brains.
7) Have fun!
You're in an office. Close to 20 people fill the room. At the front is the Royal Clerk, Francis Yoshi, a short bald human, who looks like he hasn't seen the light of day in years, and Jonah Rexian, Captain of the Watch. Jonah is a tall, strong man with a large nasty looking broadsword over his shoulders. He's dressed in well shined plate mail, showing more then a few scratches. This is a man who has seen his share of combat.
18 sets of eyes look up at them. 18 adventurers of all creeds. You can see goblins and bugbears, elves and dwarves. In the back there's even a troll. Francis seems nervous, constantly checking the papers in his hand. Finally he seems to work up the courage to speak. "Well it seems all the applicants are here. I'm only here for administrative things, so I'll let Captain Rexian take over."
Rexian looks around the surveying the crowd before speaking. "I'm going to keep this short. The form you all signed out covered most of the details. Pay comes at the end of each week, and you'll be expected to stay with the guard for a month. After that you can either stay on or go off on your own, I don't really care." He looks around once again.
"Because of the numbers, we're splitting you into three groups. Go with your group to your assignment after I call your name." Rexian quickly rattles off the first two groups, send them to the Harbor and Outer Wall respectively. "OK and all of you that are left are headed to the Sewers. Hope ya'll have a strong stomach!" He chuckles as he waves you off with his hand.
Upper Sewers, Beneath the Merchant District
Tales about the sewers abound. While the watch tries their best to keep the upper sewers clear and safe, anything lower is a wildland. People have been dragged down and either return insane, or don't return at all. The sewers were built by Unix's original inhabitants before Lexius took it over, and so nobody know's how deep they truly run.
You are stationed below the Merchant District, a busy but decent part of the city. The sewers below are said to have a slight gang problem. Stores and booths are robbed and the culprits manage to disappear. You have been stationed here to help slow the flow of these criminals. As of yet though, all has been quiet.
There was much chatter in these slums. The poor and the cripple take up space below the marketplace, being that they're unwanted around the hard-working merchants and a sore-sight to the well-paid. Karnage didn't pity them, but he knew their pain. He was young when he once had to call the sewers his home. It wasn't so bad; he had his friends at least, so he wasn't alone. But now he felt alone in this crowd. Beggars and pickpockets tried to heckle him and the other guards, but they left empty handed, except maybe some new cuts. Karnage himself simply shoved away any heckler, but seeing that he looked rather poor himself, no one really approached him.
His current armament was rather simple. His usual hunter tools; his lance and shield, made from iron and sturdy monster bones, and a bow with arrows made from the same materials. It was cheap, but because of what he made it out of, he had the liberty to design it in his fashion. And they still served their purpose; stabbing things to death or turning them into a pincushion, respectfully. Another reason he carried these weapons was for advertisement; if he's lucky, someone might see his weapons and ask where he got it from. He'd direct them to his forge during his off hours and do business. That's what he hopes for, anyways. In the mean time: He had to make sure to catch any criminals and subdue all neer-do-wells that pass by.
Bretta had felt an unexpected amount of relief at the sharp, commanding tone of the Guard Captain. Her Captain, she realised very suddenly, her new Captain. She hadnt realised how much she had missed army life, the regiments, the commands, the orders. Was she so incapable that she always needed someone else to tell her what to do? No, not at all. But she had been living a long time under the command of others and for the brief first period of her exile, wandering the foothills of the mountains aimlessly, she had been uncomfortable and ill at ease. So this was good. She was particularly happy about their first assignment as well, surprising as that sounded. Sewers were dark and close enough to remind her of the narrow tunnels under her mountain home, tunnels she had mapped in her mind long ago as an inquisitive Dwarfling.
She fell back into her old routines like slipping on an old glove, not that she ever really had left them. Parade rest was still the most comfortable position for her and all her answers were naturally quick, clear and barked. All in all, Bretta was happy. That didnt mean the lack of battle wasnt slowly becoming tiresome, she wasnt used to inactivity and she couldnt remember the last time her axe was clean enough of blood to see the bright silver sheen. Her armour was polished to oblivion, it would probably blind someone if they werent in the dark most of the time and she had to stop herself sharpening her axe too much. All of this meant that this time, when she and a few others were posted guard duty and had to sit for hours on end staring down a dark passageway, Bretta resorted to quietly singing Dwarvish Prayer Chants to the dark. She had a pretty voice, if a little course, and the brick walls made the notes echo in a rather dramatic and tuneful manner.
Jip wrinkled his nose at the variety of putrid odors permeating the sewers. He had moved slightly away from the small group of new guards and into a little shadowed alcove, where he was barely visible. For if things got ugly if and when the culprits showed up, Jip's best chance of being helpful relied on him being sneaky.
He settled into the dark spot, looking out at the others that had been assigned here with him. The gnome fidgeted slightly as the minutes ticked by and no thugs showed up. The female dwarf seemed to be chanting softly. She must be growing bored too, he thought. Leaning back against the damp stone wall, a mischievous grin spread over his face as he decided things needed spiced up, just a little.
The gnome wriggled his fingers as he concentrated on an area down a side tunnel, calling upon the minor magics that came so naturally to many gnomes. And within moments soft murmurs and flickering of torchlight seemed to be approaching. A pretty convincing illusion, but one that would fade away in only a few moments...
Having positioned himself intentionally in a corner within the meeting room, not liking crowds for one and disgusted by a few of those present by race alone, Niso kept his distance of the group until they were placed within the ever closing confines of Unix’s upper sewer. Having studied each individual of Unit 3’s members as much as possible, an eye kept watch for any inhabitants that seemed up to no good.
Tossing the head of his hand crafted battle hammer over his shoulder, the double handed handle allowed the heavy weight to be easily balanced with his shoulder and one hand. As his free hand slid down his beard in an attempt to wrangle any loose hairs that might be off on their own, Bretta’s voice singing the chants from childhood fell upon his ears. Making his way to stand beside her, Niso finished one of the verses using their dwarven language before speaking to her in common tongue.
“Those are some beautiful words that my mom used to sing me to sleep with when I were a wee one.” Looking out in the direction that they both faced, a brief memory of his mother was reflected upon before speaking once more to Bretta. “Niso is my name,” finally allowing his brown eyes to fall upon the female dwarf briefly before raising his attention due to the new commotion in their surroundings before his words continued. “It’s good to be placed with one of the kindred.”
Bretta was silent while she both contemplated the Dwarf beside her and the small disturbance ahead. The latter disappeared soon enough and her dwarfish senses didnt tell her anything was amiss so she returned her attention to the young Dwarf. He seemed a sturdy, reliable sort, young and eager for glory. He reminded her of Vindr when she had first met him, aspirational and bright of heart. She also noticed his clan Tattoo, Clan Vespar was a noble brand and was loyal to the crown, their elder a trustworthy adviser to the king. So after a not too long pause she nodded to Niso.
"The old songs are the best, change is good but we should teach our young the old ways as well. Though of course as a female warrior, I cant really say much about the preservation of the old ways."
She chuckled at herself a little before holding out her hand like she was about to arm wrestle, a customary handshake-like greeting between two warriors.
"My name is Bretta of clan Grinsborith. By your Clan mark and your name I know you to be The Elder Vespar's Nephew. I remember your birth, Old Vespar held a joyful celebration in your name if I recall."
She looked him up and down, smiling at the happier times she had enjoyed long ago.
"You must be on your proving then, since you are so far from home. I wish you good fortune and honour in your quest."
Lucille looked to the sky, and then towards a pocketwatch. She knew herself to be late, but she needed a tune-up on her arm. The grinding of gears within constructs usually remained below the notice of even those with sensitive ears, except when they pressed their ears on the construct's body. Her arm was clanking loudly today, however. Fortunately, a trip to the local Diplomatic Service fixed it. But the repairs did make her wallet feel less comfortable. 20 gold pieces at the end of the week was a welcome relief.
To the rest of the merchant district, a 6 foot construct girl with blonde metal hair, running with footsteps that sounded like a knight being chased by a dragon, carrying a foot-long metal orb between her left arm and her chest, drew the attention of the rest of the street. A grin appeared on Lucille's face.
"Heh. Life not born of life," she said to herself. "Like a big middle finger to fate." Her voice was metallic and electronic, crackling with tell-tale signs of a construct voice-box.
Lucille stepped into the little corner that the group she was in was supposed to guard. The cyan light from her eyes and her orb bounced off the walls of the dark sewers, though the light that came from her face dimmed upon her mental command. The orb dimmed as well with a few light smacks from Lucille's metal hand. "Sorry," she grinned. Tossing up her orb and catching it with a single hand, Lucille smiled towards Niso. "I am Lucille. Mr. Dwarf, who likely scatters armies with his presence and might, I greet you."
This sort of fancy talk came from Ambassador Lekarus. An elf in the Diplomatic Service was a strange sight, but he did the job very well. It was a pity he had to leave.
"And lady dwarf..." Lucille bent a knee towards Bretta, lowering her head. The Diplomatic Service always had an eye for the 'king incognito', or any sort of high-ranking noble that tried to blend in amongst the commonfolk for whatever reason. Little gestures that indicated their higher status did not go away easily, despite whatever clothing they might don.
It was either that, or Lucille was about to make a complete fool of herself.
"But one does not simply bend down a knee and pretend that naught has happened," she whispered to herself. With a polite smile, she placed her orb on the floor and extended a hand to Bretta. "You look as regal as you are decisive. I fear for the fool who crosses your path if he does not deserve magnanimity."
Standing up (and quickly lifting her orb with her), Lucille turned towards the gnome, though her interest was diverted by strange lights and sounds from a dark corner behind Jip.
Eye on that, face towards gnome.
"Greetings, Mr. Gnome. I can see the talent in your cheery little eyes. You will be exceeding all our expectations, wouldn't you."
The smile on her face dropped the moment she saw the orc. She recalled meeting that giant of a man that towered over her a month ago who wore so little and claimed that he was a smith. Whatever he meant as a 'smith' that seemed so different from her impressions of an actual smith, she left the meeting suitably unimpressed and in need of repairs.
"Karnage." Lucille greeted him curtly, looking away from him right after she spoke. The lights in her eyes brightened up again, lighting up the corners that normal eyes could not see clearly.
Dwarves. For the sake of the job, Karnage wouldn't let his own personal feelings disrupt his work, but if one of the criminals was a dwarf, he wouldn't hesitate to gore him and eat them. Seriously; Orcs eat people. Or at least he does. But no time for prejudice; trouble was brewing. He could hear the shouts of merchants above yelling for a thief. Now, they had a rather large gang here, so he doubt they would all need to focus their energies to catch one thief, but his job was to guard and catch criminals. A thief was one of them. So Karnage got off from the spot he was leaning on and walked over to a drain covered by a manhole. It was rather large, large enough for him to fit through, but he wasn't going up. The sounds of feet stomping grow closer and closer as Karnage readied his spear. And in one swift motion, he stabbed his spear through the grating of the of the drain, impaling the thief by the foot. He screeched in pain as Karnage pulled his spear back, causing further lacerations. He left the scene before the guards could go and see who or water stabbed the thief in the foot, and he returned to his post and acted as though nothing had happened.
A bit of distance away, Karnage could see some more serious trouble brewing. Seemed like a small gang of humans have come together, and he doubt it was a social gathering judging by their trashy appearance and their armament. He could see it in the torchlight. However, he had not been able to sit still after he stabbed the thief in the foot; growing bored of listening to the rabble of the others, he decided to set up some traps in the dark. He hopes that the others wouldn't activate them, as they were meant for any gangster or thief who decides to mess with the guards. What kind of trap he made or where they were at was purposely left ambiguous, but he did pretty well making traps from rope and rocks.
But as he was setting up his traps, a name called out to him. He did not remember introducing himself yet. Picking up his lance, Karnage was going to assume he was being attack, when he saw her. Lucille the Construct. "Lucille. Business must be bad for you too." He remembered meeting her a while back. A month, perhaps, maybe more like three weeks ago. Either way, both parties left rather displeased with one another. Still... Ever since then, he wanted to get better. It was embarrassing for him to call himself a smith but not be able to please her. Ever since that day, Karnage had been reading up on Constructs. Most of the information went right over his head, but he was getting close to a break through, he just knows it. Still, that was for later; right now he needed to finish up these traps.
"Indeed it is," she replied, watching with nonchalant eyes as the orc worked on the floor on a few strange devices. She hadn't seen anything like it before, but she didn't feel impressed by it.
Lucille placed her orb on the ground gently and patted it like a small child, then drew out her longsword with both hands. A member of the service had suggested that Lucille use her mechanical strength to leverage on wielding a sword dual-handed. It felt certainly different from dual-wielding, or using a shield; attacking and blocking could no longer be done at the same time.
Greg carefully placed a hood over his head, he needn't want scrutiny from humans and others that disliked his half breed self.His gleaming blue eyes locked on a few humans sharing tongues.He quickly sidestepped a passing gaurd and brushed away from most of the others in the small area here.Gregoravitch glanced down at his human hands, not large and massive paws...Hands.He stared in wonder for quite some time until his head snapped up at a nearby sound.He noted that it was only a passin rat, his wolf-like senses told him it at least had to be 16 Ibs, and by the sound of the awkward scurrying, it had a limp.
He clenched his fists when a hard force was applied to his back, his head spun round to come face-to-face with one of the more 'obnoxious' creatures.He narrowed his gleaming eyes to slits.Greg gritted his teeth as the gaurd had the foolish nerve to say
"What are you doing here, Half Breed?!" The gaurd made a disgusted face and recoiled dramatically before continuing."You should head back to the woods before they force you out!" He laughed and cupped a square and ('to Greg's mind) rather hideous hand over his mouth to stop a snort.
Greg shrugged "I figured pups like you could use some help..." His eyes glinted mischievously before continuing "And...I figure, that if..And *when* I become a gaurd.I'll be able to actually put use to my gun and trigger."
The gaurd gaped as Greg steadily walked away, his handsome Fea features brought out more in the torch-light.