Aerilon - A Fantasy World

[Invad3rZim]

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Long ago there was a realm called Aerilon....


LORE:

It was said that years and years ago dragons roamed Aerilon. They ruled over the other races with burning flame. Turmoil was everywhere, but the gods frowned upon the inequality of the races and annihilated the dragons for the misuse of their powers. The gods then formed a city called Goldwell and claimed that the other races would have 3,000 years of prosperity and appointed the humans the guardians of Goldwell. It is now 3,000 years later and Aerilon has flourished and prospered with fair kings and a just government, but it is whispered throughout the streets that war is coming from the far south. Are these just tales made by the bards to entertain their crowds, or something more?


Races:


Sky Elves -- The sky elves live in the lush forest of the east that borders sea. Trees there grow well past the clouds and the age of most are unknown. The elves worship these trees as their gods, and very rarely leave their sanctuary of the forest. They gained their name from the massive birds that live in the region which they tame and ride like horses. They are very skilled at flying through and around the treetops at unbelievable speeds, and each has a very special bond with their own bird. Some of the talented elves can even telepathically talk to their bird if it is within a certain distance. Each sky elf is given a bird as a child and if it dies, it takes many years to reconnect with a new bird. As for weapons, they favor the bow, but also are known for their apt ability with knives. Sky elves have very long lives, living to be well over 400 years old. They are also the only race that has their own language, but most of them also know the common tongue. They are possibly the wisest of the races and are very adept in healing magic, but unable to use destructive magic at all. They also for some reason have an irrational fear of any large body of water. As for where they live, it is said that they live in one massive city in the middle of the forest, but no man or dwarf has ever laid eyes upon it.

Dwarves -- The dwarves live in the icy mountains to the north. Short and stout they don't own horses, and only use mules as a form of carrying things through the thick snow. They have adapted to the cold and have become almost immune to it. They, like elves, live well past 300. One can often outdrink 15 men or 30 elves showing that their constitution is outstanding, and they can go for days without sleep. Poison doesn't effect them and their eyes have grown accustom to the dark, letting them see perfectly in the dark. Though, their most remarkable feature is by far their inhuman strength. They are able to wield massive weapons and can move almost any object. They favor thick plate mail with a trusty two handed sword, mace, or axe to back it up. They can not, or rather do not, use magic. Unlike the elves they are said to live in separate clans, each in their own mountain, the powerful clan leaders always feuding. There is never a time of peace in the north.

Men -- The men. They are men, what else needs to be said? Some wish to eat, drink, and sleep their way to an early grave while others wish to achieve glory and honor. They definitely are the most diverse of the races, being anything from swordsmen and archers to assassins and wizards. The one thing to note about men in this realm is that they, for the most part, are tolerated by both elves and dwarves. Neither faction loves them, but they won't make rude remarks on sight like they will with each other. They are also able to use healing magic as well as destruction magic unlike the elves or dwarves. Though the very powerful wizards live usually in the southern deserts, away from people to have time to master their magic. Some however, live in the capital of the human country, Goldwell. The men control over half the continent and hold both the south and the west. They also outnumber both the dwarves and the sky elves.

The Raiders -- The raiders are just what they are called. They do not resemble humans in the slightest. They ride on camels and look much like orcs, with sharp teeth and grimy faces. They come from the far south every few years and make the long journey across the desert to pillage and plunder whatever or whoever they can. Some years Bullmar holds them off, but other years they make their way all the way to Goldwell, but they have never taken it. These savages have no sign of human emotions and only think of their next meal. They feast on human flesh, but prefer sky elves... (dwarves are a bit too stringy lol). They care not for money or wealth but only for violence and bloodshed. The raiders are viciously skilled warriors who use long curved blades in both hands as well as some carry long bows. They are never organized, but have massive numbers which overwhelm everything. In the last 10 years they have left Aerilon alone and have not even been seen south of Bullmar where they usually reside, but rumors say that there is a massive army of raiders gathering, and this time they are being led by someone. A wizard.

Vampires -- There is no real proof that these creatures exist, but the bodies that float up on the shore sure do make a convincing argument. Almost all people picture them to be evil bloodthirsty villains, but a few speculate that some of them are in fact misunderstood. Either way the only thing that is known for sure is that if they do exist, they have to drink human or animal blood regularly. ( What isn't known is that the Island of Gil does actually hold vampires. They can not use magic at all, but are able to control the minds of their victims to some extent. They can only control one person at a time and if they try to make a person do something completely against their will, like murder or suicide, the victims will can over power the vampires curse. In daylight the are unbelievably weak and are unable to run or put up any real fight. They can eat normal food but must have the blood of a human or animal every week to sustain themselves or they will starve. They can be turned by priests and burn from holy water. The only way to kill one is with a stake, but cutting off their arms, legs, head works as well, though they are still technically alive ( lol ). )

Giants -- Much like the vampires no one has ever actually had proof of their existence, but a number of dwarves swear that they have seen them, and that they are still alive. These dwarves claim that the giants are anywhere from 12 to 15 feet tall and eat everything from rocks to the stray mountain goat. They also say that they can barley speak the common tongue and that they have a language all to their own made up of grunts and hand gestures. ( What isn't known is that these giants much like the dwarves live in clans with anywhere from 3 or 4 to 9 or 10 giants in each clan, but there are actually only around a dozen clans still left in existence. )

Dragon Kin -- These, what might be called beasts, are by far the rarest race in Aerilon with there actually being less Dragon Kin than giants or vampires. There are tens of thousands of humans per Dragon Kin, most people have no idea that they exist. Those who do know they exist believe they somehow are ancestors of the ancient dragons that went extinct thousands of years ago. They look exactly like a normal person, but in dire circumstances when they are threatened grow a tail and wings. They gain immense strength and have the ability to move at insane speeds with higher coordination than normal. Though, they can not control the power they are almost unstoppable in this state, but can sometimes be a danger to their own allies. Once the rage or danger subsides they turn back to their normal self and collapse, worn out, and usually sleep for multiple days. They also have the strange ability to be immune to poison like the dwarves. They can't use any magic and are unable to learn how to ride a horse for some reason because horses will not go near them. As soon as one walks near a horse it is startled and does anything in its power to get away. They are just like humans in all other respects.

Map:



(Haha, laugh at my poor photoshop skills. Go ahead. I know you want to.)


REGIONS:


The North -- The north is full of rugged mountains and little else. The occasional shrub may be clinging on for dear life to the side of a cliff, but other than that trees are unheard of. Rocks on the other hand are even more common than dirt. Boulders are everywhere, and avalanches are a common occurrence with hundreds of dwarves being killed each year by them. It is said that there are still some giants that live in the caves in the far northern mountains, but there is no real evidence to support this. It is also said that the caves of the north hold all manner of other beasts, and along with them hidden treasure that have been long forgotten by the ancient clans of the dwarves. Since it is so cold in the north the elves are not able to fly their birds past the border and thus avoid the north all together. In fact, no one wants to be in the north except the dwarves. Though it may have harsh conditions the mountains are full of precious gems and ore. The dwarves mine them, trade them down in Goldwell, and bring food back north to store for the unbearable winters.

The South -- The south is as barren as the north, and even lacks the redeeming qualities of the north, like lost treasure and mines full of solid gold. It is an unforgivable place where a sandstorm can wipe out an entire army within minutes. There are a few oasis that dot this forsaken land, but if one does not know where they are it is easy to die of dehydration. One thing is certain of the south though, it raises the roughest and toughest men and women alive. The saying goes that one southerner is equal to ten westerners. The south only has one city, Bullmar, but nomadic tribes and gypsies can often be found moving from oasis to oasis. The south breeds strong warriors, between the rough terrain and the raiders that attack every few years. No one lives long unless they play unfair. Full of thieves and vagabonds, many criminals of Goldwell escape south just because they know that guards won't chase them past Bullmar. Possibly the most interesting quality of the south is that its remoteness attracts wizards and witches both weak and strong. Some will take over an oasis and make it their own, requiring some sort of tribute if you disturb them to try and fill up on water. Needless to say there is almost always someone at the oasis, but a good solid map of the south does not exist, only a few brave guides that require a very pretty penny.

The East -- Little is known about the east compared to the rest of Aerilon. The sky elves do not allow anyone to enter their sacred forest without permission, unlike the dwarves who dare you to try and survive the unbearable winters in the north. What is known, is that the east has massive trees that reach far past the clouds, and the meadows beneath them grow some of the strangest and most beautiful plant life in all of the realm. Some say the plants are even "alive" and will attack you if you try to harm the forest. The east is the most mystical land for sure, with untold powers of healing and wisdom. It borders the other ocean which was never given a name since men could hardly get to it. It is common knowledge that sky elves are terribly afraid of water so most people speculate that they have no navy. They very rarely leave the east, and when they do it is only to trade in Goldwell, never to go to the south or north. The east also has many ponds and rivers that weave in and out of the dense forest that make for a very soothing atmosphere. Some people even say there are rare hot springs in the east that drastically slow down the aging process, and many a fool has gone into the forests praying to find such a thing only to never return.

The West -- The west is mostly full of farmers and hunters. It is the most suitable climate to live, and between Goldwell and Portsmith there are few bandits wandering the roads. There are massive fields and large forests full of game in the west. Well over half the humans live there, and even the rare dwarf or elf finds it more peaceful than their home country, but they rarely associate with anyone. Small villages scatter the west which all pay taxes and get protection from the city closest to them. There are also many horse breeders in the west, and the best stallions are found there. The west also borders The Great Sea which has abundant fish that attract little villages of fishermen. The west is the place to be if one wants to live a normal and peaceful life, and the only real action that happens in the west is the pirates that sometimes raid the villages on the shore or attack the stray merchant. Still, the west does have a few ship captains that could take a southerner and squish him like a grape.

The Island of Gil -- Much like the east, little is known about The Island of Gil. The only rumor that floats around is that it is completely controlled by a clan of vampires. Of course there is no proof of this. Though, it is a fact that every adventurer who has tried to land on The Island of Gil has never come back, only their lifeless bodies sometimes float back to the shore, pale as ghosts with puncture wounds in their neck. Many sailors have set sail from the north and claimed to have seen the island, which is the only reason it is on most current maps. They say that it is covered in a purple mist that is unexplainable.


CITIES:


Goldwell -- Aptly named, Goldwell is where all the money throughout the realm seems to go. The massive human empire ranges both the the desserts of the south and the plains and forests of the west, but Goldwell lays as far northeast in human territory as it can which sticks it in the dead center of Aerilon. It has trade from the nomads of the south, farmers of the west, dwarves of the north, and sky elves of the east. It was said to have been created by the gods themselves, and it dates back far past written records. It has five layers of walls each scaling up in size, along with a huge moat, which makes it practically impregnable. The armed city guards of Goldwell number well over 5,000. The city itself is massive, covering miles and miles of land. It, along with Bullmar and Portsmith, is ruled by whoever is the current human king at the time. The king sits at the throne, which is forged out of solid gold, and he lives in the center of Goldwell behind the fifth wall.

Sky Elves City -- This city is completely a mystery. Some say its in the air, and others the ground, but no one knows for sure except the sky elves themselves, who never talk about it to anyone.

Portsmith -- This city is in the far west. It is not near as large as Goldwell, but is built right upon The Great Sea of the west and thus also has much trade. It has a very massive navy but a rather small number of city guards. It controls the seas for many miles and is threatened by no other naval power. Many pirates live near Portsmith feasting upon the merchants who come and go, but the navy does its best to keep them under control. Even though Portsmith is full of drunken sailors and loose women, it was soundly planned out and built. It rests on a large peninsula surrounded by water on three sides. It also has one large wall with towers at each corner, attacking this city, much like Goldwell, would be suicidal without the proper army and siege equipment.

Bullmar -- By far the only livable place in the deserts of the south, it sits on the largest oasis of the entire desert. The only thing that connects it with the rest of the continent is a small string of water holes that you can follow up to plains of the west and eventually Goldwell. It is full of groups of nomads and gypsies along with the stray wizard and witch. It sees few visitors other than these, but the toughest of the tough live here. One of the main differences in Bullmar from the other cities is that it allows slavery. Along with slavery it also has a large colosseum in which gladiators compete and fight for both money and their own life. The gladiators are rougher than almost any living creature in all of Aerilon. They range from captured sky elves and dwarves to men who have no way of buying food for their families other than selling themselves into slavery. Either way all gladiators grow into amazing athletes and skilled warriors or they quickly die in the pit. Bullmar also has the greatest diversity in jobs, with people being everything from a wealthy merchant to a bloodthirsty assassin. Though it is a fact that if you live in Bullmar you most likely do not play by the rules. Low life scum and thieves abound and one must always watch his gold if he is wandering the streets at night.


POLITICS:


The politics in Aerilon are very simple. The dwarven clans bicker constantly for no real reason, with the strongest dwarf being the leader of his or her clan. The sky elves are thought to be ruled by a monarch who is judged by age and wisdom. Since they live for so long these monarchs last for a good while. The human politics are a bit more complicated but not by much. Goldwell is the human capital. It's king is determined by birth line and nothing more. The king controls all of the south and the west, but it is split up into two major cities which govern their region. Bullmar controls the south and Portsmith controls the west. The king appoints a governor in each city to keep that region loyal to him. The people of that region are taxed by the governor and the governor sends a share to the king in Goldwell as well as keeps a share to further the development of his or her own city, pay the guards, ect... Each city has its own personal guard that keeps the city's inhabitants under control and if need be helps fend off attackers. The main army of the king consists of around 20,000 men that are pulled from all three cities in times of danger to fight for "the good of the realm".


Guilds:

Guilds - Guilds are a very important aspect of Aerilon. Guilds often have a main building in each major human city where its members can meet, talk, and pick up assignments. Most guilds take assignments from individuals and assign them to its members. Once the assignment is complete the individual pays a sum to the guild and the guild then pays a portion of that money to the member who completed the job, but some guilds work differently than others. The following is a list of the guilds in Aerilon.

Warriors Guild - The warriors guild is a simple guild in which the guild's house of each city take on tasks given to them that involve anything from protecting a caravan to making a person pay up his or her debt.

Wizards Guild - This guild is only a myth. No one knows if it is actually a guild, and "guild" is perhaps the wrong word for it. Some speculate that there is a large hidden oasis in the south that has a a substantial group of wizards there learning magic. They say it is hidden by the wizards allusions and spells, and that the wizards guild actual recruits its participants at the rather young age of 18, but these "recruiters" are never seen in public. It is said to be headed by one of the most powerful wizards in the entire realm.

Thieves Guild - The thieves guild is said to have its roots in Bullmar where they run their operation under the city in the sewers. The thieves guild like most other guilds takes on assignments but in secret. They generally try to avoid murder when possible but are not afraid to kill if need be. They steal anything if the price is right from their customer.

Adventurers Guild - This humble guild is not really a guild, but more a series of shops that are in each of the three human cities. They sell everything an adventurer could need, from armor and weapons, to the stray weak magical item, but only at a very hefty price of course.

Assassins Guild - This guild is much like the thieves guild, but much more hidden and discreet. It is said that they will kill anyone, for a price. Thier assassins move with the shadows and never are seen more than once. A mission may take a single day, or an entire year. Their whole purpose is to kill. Though the personalities and reasons behind each assassin is different.

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"Hmm, that one looks like a sheep." Derk muttered to no one in particular as he watched one of the more puffy clouds float by slowly. He had just recently found this secluded hill only a few nights ago, and he already loved it to no end. He liked quite places where you could lie down and hear the crickets chirp away as the sun gently would sink below the horizon illuminating each and every cloud, making them more beautiful than any flower could ever dream of being. He laid his head back, closed his eyes, and then took a deep breath of air to smell the fresh grass. This was the life. Whenever he would lay on his back and stare at the clouds like this he would always remember back. Back to when things were good.

Derk was given birth into the world by parents who loved him very, very much. Or so he was told. He couldn't remember much of his childhood before the orphanage. He remembered his twin sister though. He remembered that they would play in the fields and sneak out at night to catch fire flies. Those were the good days, but unfortunately they didn't last very long. His parents were traveling merchants, and took him and his sister along with them wherever they went. He remembered that much. One day they were selling wheat and buying fish at a village by The Great Sea when it was attacked by pirates. He remembered the screams of his parents as they were butchered right in front of him and his sister. He remembered them hitting his sister over the head with a club knocking her unconscious. He remembered running as fast as he could, and the pirates shouting, "Let that one go, he isn't worth it!" He remembered coming back to that very spot to find his sisters old white bandanna there among the dirt and blood. He remembered all too well.

When he was found, he was taken to Goldwell and immediately put up for adoption in one of the larger orphanages. He was often a troublemaker, and showed little interest in the few families that wanted to adopt him. He was always mouthing off to the care takers, and he never would volunteer to help anyone out, and because of this attitude he never really made any friends. Derk didn't do chores like the other children, and was more often than not found on top of the roof, just staring at clouds to pass the time away. He loved the clouds, how they always moved and changed. Never ceasing. Never stopping.

At the age of 16 the orphanage said that enough was enough, and proceeded to kick Derk out on the streets. They told him, in a nutshell, that he would never amount to anything, and in a sad way Derk agreed. He had no talents and his education was far below par, as his mind would always drift off in the classes that the orphanage had provided. He lacked the motivation to find a job and because of that had less than a proper diet. Thats probably the reason he never grew very strong.

Derk snapped back to reality as his stomach gave a loud and angry growl. To go along with the growl came an unenthusiastic sigh. Derk got up and turned his pockets inside out, only to find out that he had no money. He had known that he was completely broke, but can't a man hope that gold will fall out of his pockets at least one day? He began to slowly make his way back to the city to try and find something to eat. He just relished the thought of what the bakers would tell him when he once again said that he was broke. He tightened the soft, white bandana as he walked through one of the large gates into Goldwell. It was busy and loud, as usual.

[Renji]

(Enjoy the music that inspired this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uvW-QTiZLQ0)

The sun light crept through the crudely made curtains, each streak only just showing as the dust drifted gently through them. As the sun rises higher the beams gradually begin to fall on Ryath's face. With a groan he gently ran his hand over his face pushing his long red hair out of the way. Slowly he propped himself up on his elbow and opened his eyes a bit, the bright sunshine stinging a little at first, whiting out the rest of the room momentarily. With a deep sigh he runs his hand through his hair and swings his legs out of bed, his trousers flowing gently around his ankles. Shrugging off the blanket he pushes himself up off of the crudely made bed and walks across the room to the door. Upon opening it the brilliant light from the morning sun illuminates the room, dazing Ryath a little more in his groggy morning state. He takes a few steps outside towards the well, the ground still cool beneath his feet having not yet warmed. Ryath pulled up a bucket from the well and proceeded to empty it over his head, soaking his hair, head and shoulders completely, before dropping the bucket back in and pulling it up once more, this time taking it back into his house.

He shut the door behind him and looked about. The walls were made of rustic planks, as was almost everything else. His bed consisted of a wood frame with a few sheep skins covering the base and a heavy blanket to sleep under. The majority of his possessions hung on the walls from crude hooks or nails. Across from his bed was a rounded off table with an assortment of foods and books scattered across it. Ryath walked over to the window and drew the curtains back from the glass, one of the few luxuries in his house, to allow some light in. He stood looking around, it was not much but it was to him, home. He quickly changed from his sleeping clothes, slipping a pair of more durable trousers on before sitting down at the table to muse over an open book on it. He reached across the table and picked up a chunk of bread, biting off a large bit and chewing on it slowly as he read. He glanced up from his book and noticed that his small collection of edible items had decreased significantly. Sighing to himself he muttered softly “Looks like I need to make a trip out for food again, maybe Portsmith will have something of interest today."

He pushed his chair back from the table and began gathering items from around the room. He grabbed his belt on which were safely cradled his two knives. Next he picked up his bow and shouldered that, hanging it diagonally across his back so it would not imped his movements too much. As he walked towards the door he grabbed a large travelling cloak from a nail on the wall, throwing it on to disguise the weapons he carried. Ryath disliked wearing tops, this cloak was about the only thing he would wear. As he left his house he pulled the door shut behind him, placing a small piece of straw between the top of the door and the frame. His damp hair hung down over the back of his cloak, keeping his head cool in the sun, for the moment. He smiled a little to himself before heading away from his house towards the road. From there he would begin his, what he considered brief considering the distances he had travelled, journey to the city of Portsmith.

[Xionist]

Sheesh, so many stinky, filthy, and downright wasteful humans.. I hate it when Sylias sends me here.. It's so close to the ocean, and I'm always surrounded by humans. Mikhal thought as he walked, "Ouch.." he muttered as his right shoulder ran into the doorway that lead into one of Portsmith's many Taverns. They can't even build doorways straight.. No wonder I keep running into them. Mikhal sat down at an empty table, trying his best to ignore the many beings that surrounded him. The Tavern was loud and it irritated his ears, not to mention the crude ales that flowed and the sweat that flung from the sailors that were boasting their strengths. "Lets see what he wants this time.. That cheap bastard." he said as he reached into his pouch on his hip and pulled out a piece of parchment.

Three ounces of crushed witherberry.. A new hunting knife.. Three vials of cinnamon, cumin, lemonpepper, and crushed garlic.. Mikhal thought as he read the parchment. Stuffing the parchment rather angrily back into his pouch and muttered outloud, "And he expects me to pay for all this! That cheap bastard, just because you don't want to pay for higher quality elven made supplies that cost much more.. Doesn't mean you can send me to these godforsaken places!" His speech got louder and louder as he went on, and eventually the entire tavern went completely quiet and the whole population was left staring at him. Mikhal looked up from his table and looked around, just realizing he had said all that outloud.

Scowling he tossed a hand in the air with a vague lazy manner and said, "What're you all staring at? Get back to what you boorish humans do.. What was it? Flaunt about your muscles and trade sweats? Talk about the seas? Feh. Such brute traditions.. Not only do you clear away all nature and waste precious space with muck, you also spend all your spare time drowning yourselves in crude ales and arm-wrestling with every other male you see." Mikhal was a rather self-centered Elf. He detested any race that wasn't an Elf, especially Giants, and wanted nothing to do with them. Though, that wish was not to be granted what with Sylias, his adoptive father, sending him all across the lands just so he can save a few coins.

Shouts erupted moments after Mikhal stopped talking, obviously the room did not take a verbal beating all too well. "Wha'dyo you say you little punk!?" One of the sailors in the room slammed his chair to the side as he explosively stood up and stormed over to Mikhal's table, knocking over tables as he moved. Looking quite haughtily up into the eyes of the brute sailor, Mikhal simply stated "I said you humans are nothing more than a waste of space, and it's a wonder that you're the dominant species on this country. Though, if breeding like the rats that scavenge the trash you humans collect is anything to be proud of.. Then I say, good for you." The sound of wood being smashed echoed through the room as the sailor smashed Mikhal's table, cause him to stand up and divert his eyes to protect them from the wooden shrapnel.

"You're but an Elf! You hide in your forest all day, not letting a single creature in. You're all cowards, that's what you are!" The sailor shouted, spraying spit as he did so. Wiping off his face with a scowl, Mikhal said "You're one to talk.. If you're so curious as to what's in our forests, then why don't you just come and see?" The sailor did nothing but stare with fiery anger, "See. Now you're the coward." Mikhal sighed and walked away, "It is better if I leave, humans are quite the filthy species.. Your dirt may rub off on me if I stay.." As Mikhal took a single step out the door of the tavern, quaking stomps could be heard as the sailor broke the door down in his stampede and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Get back here, you stinkin' Elf! You fight me like the man you are, or forever prove your race is nothing but superstitious cowards!"

[Invisible Man]

"And as the caravan master said this, a bandit snuck up behind him and stabbed him--straight through the belly!" The group of children that had gathered around Azul gasped. "Then, he uttered a warcry and charged us! At least a dozen bandits, against just me and two warriors. We fought hard, though, and soon, the bandits were running away with their tails between their legs! A foul bunch, they were, but they left behind some precious jewels in their haste. Sold them and got a pretty profit. That's how I came to be in your presence." Azul laughed as the children asked for another story. "Nay, not today, my young friends. Go and play. You don't want to hear an dusty old dwarf tell stories all day," he said with a wink. The children groaned, but went outside to play their games.

Azul chuckled and went up to the bar. "Oi, barkeep! I'll have the hardest ale you've got. Here's payment." He placed a coin on the bar. The bartender tapped a mug of ale and set it down in front of Azul. "Thank ye." He chugged it and waited happily, perhaps a bit bored but glad that he was able to afford some rest after his adventures. A man walked up to him. "You there, dwarf. I hear ya think ya can drink. Well, I've got news for you. I can drink you under the table." Azul was taken aback. "Are you sure you want to do that, my friend?"
"Yeah, and I want to do it right here." A crowd gathered around the two. They whispered to each other. "That man must be daft, he's crazy!" they said. Azul took a mug of mead--the man's drink of choice--and chugged it. The challenger did the same. After twenty mugs of the mead, both were still standing, though the man seemed to be getting a bit woozy. Ten drinks later and he fell to the ground. "Better luck next time, my friend," said Azul as he took the man's money from the bet. The man stood up and clumsily drew his sword.

"Cheat!" he exclaimed. "He's cheatin'! He can't drink that much... it's... *hic* impossible. *Hic* Gimme back mah gold!" He lunged at Azul, but Azul easily sidestepped the blow and knocked the man over his head with the handle of his axe. He fell to the floor unconscious. "Crazy man! Now, I'd like to get back to my peaceful existence, if you don't mind." Azul sat back down at the bar and began reading a book, a novel about a war between dwarves and elves. Like that would ever happen, he thought.

[Slade]

A slim, wily man walked into a dimly lit bar. He wore a dark brown tunic with grey military pants along with steel-toed combat boots. In his hand was a spear, about five feet long, that he was currently using as a walking stick. He walked slowly, people like him made enemies and it couldn’t hurt to take things easy. Other tough looking men looked at his spear, began to unsheathe their swords, and then saw his face and quickly went back to coddling their ale. The spearman walked past them and took a seat in the most poorly lighted area of the bar yet. Though the spearman had his reason, for across that table sat a Taciturn, sour man who wore what could only be described as a complex combination of leather and fur armor. The grumpy looking man sitting across from the Spearman was none other than Uhtred the Warmonger.

“I saw some Warrior Guild thugs skulking around the commons today; I think their looking for you, Uhtred.”

“They've be trying to find me since early this morning. If I wanted you to scout for me I would have told you, stay out of affairs that don’t concern you Derfel.”

Derfel the spearman, shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t mind working with Uhtred, but the man was a very mean-spirited person and often lashed out at him for the most miniscule of reasons. Still, Derfel had enough patience and common sense to not call Uhtred out on it, lest he risk losing his head. Uhtred pointed to Derfel’s other hand that held a small piece of paper with a list of names written on it.

“Is that it?”

“Yup, I’ve got 43 signed on.” Derfel slowly handed Uhtred the piece of paper as Uhtred quickly snatched it out of his hands.

“What do the checkmarks next to some of the names mean?” Uhtred asked.

“Those are mercs who’ve never worked with you; I thought it would be convenient to label them.”

“They’re not noobies right?”

“Who do you think I am? I’ve never given you raw meat before have I?”

Uhtred grunted in agreement, still, those were a lot of checkmarks. Men whom he didn’t know if he could trust to get the job done like a professional.

“There should be more familiar people with us. What happened?”

“Uhtred, you’re lucky I found as many of our former comrades as I did. The rest are either down south, in the West, in Prison or Dead. We have to make do with what we have. That chieftain specifically asked for a detachment of 43 from you. I have to get that quota one way or another. Besides, I’ve personally talked to every mercenary on that list. They all have at least 5 years of experience, I made sure.”

Uhtred nodded in approval as he motioned for the bartender to get him another mug of ale. He kept staring at one name on the roster.

“So Jin’s coming with us huh?”

“Of course, he’s one of the best spearman in this city. Why wouldn’t you want him?”

“He’s got a thing for killing kids.”

Derfel, serious now, put both elbows on the table and shifted towards Uhtred.

“Look I know you got a soft spot for younglings, most mercs do. They won’t admit it but they do. But Jin is too good to let go just because he’s a crazy bastard.”

As Derfel said this, Uhtred looked down into his newly replenished mug of ale, pondering.

“True, Jin is one of the few people who can pierce that damn armor in one hit. I just like it when my men get excited about killing fierce warriors, not sniveling little brats who barely know how to wipe their own nose!”

Derfel, his assertion now lost, sat back quietly weakly hold his spear looking down on the floor; Uhtred sighed:

“Hadrim isn’t on the roster, where did he run off too?”

“I heard he headed down to Portsmith to fight pirates for the Navy.”

“Hmm, not a bad idea, I’m considering heading down there as well.”

“WHAT!” said Derfel, looking stunned “the Navy pays their cabin-boys more than their sell-swords.”

Uhtred made a devilish smile; he was planning something, some scheme that would line his pockets with gold and by default, Derfel’s pockets as well. Derfel sat on the edge of his chair. Eager to hear Uhtred.

“You’re not thinking outside the box Derfel. It’s true that the military pays mercs wretched wages, and the Navy will probably pay me less. But what about all those big fat chest filled with gold below the decks of Pirate vessels, eh.”

“That is considered stolen property of the Empire” Derfel countered.

“Yes I know that all too well. But it saddens me to think all that lovely gold will end up on a tax caravan to that kingly brat. It would look much happier in our pockets, don’t you think.”

Derfel nodded, dumbfounded at Uhtred’s scheming.

“But why abandon the north? Business is still good.”

Uhtred was silent for a moment; he quickly drank the rest of his ale and threw the mug on the ground for the poor bartender to pick up. He gestured Derfel to come closer, and whispered in hush tones.

“There are whispers of rumors of reunification of the Dwarven lands.”

“What” Derfel exclaimed quietly, eyes wide “Do you know how insane that sounds? There hasn’t been one Dwarven Kingdom in centuries. The oldest Elf in the land wouldn’t have been alive to remember that!”

“I’ve heard that some mysterious chieftain to the upper north-where all the mountains and Giants are- has been assimilating tribes around him and controls the entire northern mountains. Apparently he’s planning on expanding southward-

“Uhtred, those are just insane rumors. And you’re not one to believe them. Remember when we heard about the Chieftain who could control and summon dragons? We ended up mounting his head on a stick two days later.”

“You’re probably right Derfel. Needless to say though, when rumors of unification start to come out of the woodworks; it’s a sign Derfel, a sign that business won’t be as lucrative as it used to be, a sign to look somewhere else.”

Uhtred glanced out the window and grimaced, he then mumbled to Derfel

“This might be my last incursion into the North. I’m getting tired of all the damn snow. But in the mean time…

Uhtred pointed outside the window to Derfel, who, when he looked could see three warrior guild members wandering the streets and asking around for direction, directions to find Uhtred the Warmonger.

Uhtred got up and yelled at the Bartender:

“Give me some Tea, the hottest, scolding cup of tea you’ve got!”

Derfel, grabbing his spear could only say one thing.

“You don’t drink tea.”

[Invad3rZim]

Derk slowly made his way past the massive east gate of Goldwell paying careful attention to the murky waters of the moat as his shoes thudded across the wooden draw bridge. His stomach gave another thundering roar, but this time it was followed by a small sharp pain. It was also loud enough to attract a couple glances from some of the people walking in the streets near him. He looked over at one of them lazily and shrugged, as if to say that it wasn't his fault he was starving, even though, in fact, it was his fault entirely. After a few minutes he reached the cheapest baker's shop in town. He opened the door as the smell of burnt bread flooded his nostrils.

"So, what have you been up to these days my old friend?"

A mountain of man as wide as he was tall turned around from rolling dough to see who was talking. After seeing who it was he immediately went back to work.

"Do you have money this time you little squirt? Better yet, do you have the money that you have owed me for the past two weeks?" Mumbled the large man with a hint of spite in his hoarse voice.

"About that, I promise to have the entire amount by tomorrow, but at the moment I'm on the verge of death. Fighting the very fight you seem to have never fought. If you want your money back your going to have to invest in my health, least I die before I pay you back... what a tragic mess that would be. To have a dead body right inside your shop, that wouldn't do well for business would it? I think not, in fact..."

About that time the plump man exploded, "GET OUT NOW!" he bellowed while waving the rolling pin at him.

A second later the rolling pin went whizzing past Derk's face and out into the street. "What a deadly weapon indeed." mumbled Derk as he slipped out of the shop. He decided his best bet was to try for the marketplace next. There had to be someone in this town who would have some sort of food that had his name on it. Even if it was covered in mold and had been already half eaten. There just had to be.

[MysT3CH]

Laughter. Boisterous and vulgar laughter. William smirked at the lively manner of the shabby tavern. With lazy eyes the young captain watched as a trio of sailors, half drunk through ale and rums, threw their heavy arms over one another. Continuously tugging on one another, each tried to take sips from their massive mugs. Spilling their strongly scented beverages onto the table they stood on as danced and skipped across it, reciting an all to common shanty.

Oh, round the corner we will go,
Round the corner, Sally!
Oh, round the corner we will go,
Round the corner, Sally!

To Madam Gashee's we all will go,
Round the corner, Sally!
To Madam Gashee's we all will go,
Round the corner, Sally!

"The Mademoiselles you all do know, Round the corner, Sally!" William grinned as he sat there, unable to keep from singing a bar. After taking a large sip of the ale within his own mug, the sailor blanked. Becoming lost in his thoughts as he stared down at his surprisingly clean boots. Closing his eyes, he listened as the unpleasant sound of drunken shanty faded off. Giving way to the an imaginary array of gun fire. Accompanied respectively by the sounds of clashing steel and moaning men. The sounds of battle. William awoke after a head shifting slap. One which caused him to drop his cup onto the wooden table. With haste, he retracted his legs, removing them from the wobbling wooden rectangle that was supposed to be a table. Despite it's unappetizing appearance.

"Looks like there's to be a brawl downstairs Cap'in!" The stocky shortling quickly leapt over the table and, like all the other men, made his way for the stairs. Having leapt up as well, William quickly checked for his weapons. Then, after taking a step forward. Let out a lion-like belch, only to suck back in the egg flavored gas with a cheery 'yip'. With a mild start, he quickly charged forward towards the rail. Putting a hand on it, he bolted over, letting go only to outstretch his arms for the chandelier hanging over the lower section of the tavern. He didn't hesitate to let himself fall onto the mass of sailors below. Ignoring their curses, he then got to his feet and broke into a full sprint prior to exiting out into the street.

"Get back here, you stinkin' Elf! You fight me like the man you are, or forever prove your race is nothing but superstitious cowards!" William raised a brow at the scene. While he admitted that he felt bad for the elf, having laid eyes upon his opponent. It was the two men across the street that worried him the most. His faced paled, a single sweat drop running along it as one of the armored men looked straight at him. The sailor ducked his head, taking quick strides down the street in an attempt to disappear. It only made him stick out all the more.

"You there!" Once more, Will took of in a sprint. With a grin he charged straight for the large man behind the elf.

[Invisible Man]

"What in Armok's name is that?!" cried Azul as he ran into the street to see an elf chased by a sailor chased by another man. A captain, by the looks of him. Azul observed the strange cast of men: the elf had two daggers hanging at his side, and was wearing a cloak. The man chasing him may have been drunk, but Azul couldn't quite tell. He focused especially on the man chasing the sailor. An odd fellow, he was, running around with a grin plastered on his face. Azul walked out of the bar and followed the men, waiting to see what would happen next and ready to intervene at any moment. Azul did like Portsmith, and didn't want to see anybody butcher anybody inside of the walls.
((Short post, sorry.))

[Xionist]

"Hah, me superstitious? We Elves don't kneel by our beds every night and mutter into the air to some unforeseen force that doesn't even exist, or at least there is absolutely zero proof that it does." Mikhal stated as he turned around and faced the large sailor. Though, as he turned around he noted that the area was getting rather crowded. The sailor got all puffed up and was about to say something, probably another insult towards Mikhal and the Elven race, when suddenly a guard shouted "You there!" and a fairly large and beefy looking man sprinted straight towards the sailor that was already in danger of getting gutted by Mikhal. Wide eyed, Mikhal stepped back as the beefy man neared and out of instinct he grabbed his knives tightly and made sure they were ready to be unfastened and pulled out of their sheathes at a moment's notice. This man is a loon, even crazier than a sailor picking a fight with an Elf.. Well, I was hoping he would. It'd be fun, showing how dominant Elves were over Humans. Mikhal thought as he watched. Just to make this whole incident even more crowded, dwarf even showed up, crying out "What in Armok's name is that?!"

[pocketLint]

The Bullmar market’s cobbled streets were bustling in the midday rush as its inhabitants went about their daily business. Merchants stood loyally close to their carts as passerby’s ignored the various looks of suspicion cast upon them. Make no mistake, the residents of Bullmar knew business just as they knew the crowd; no one was to be trusted or taken lightly in a town of built on the principles of ruthlessness. From transactions of men and items to the well renowned gladiator battles, Bullmar was truly a place for the hardened man. Many warriors and chiseled muscles decorated the streets alongside the various nomads and gypsies. It was in such a toughened crowd that the young mage Danni found herself.

The young girl was extremely short and had decorated herself in a combination of several leather and cloth-patched skirts, elongated sleeves, sole-less boots and her own makeshift wizard’s hat which was pathetically constructed. Danni whistled a tune as she walked along the cobbled streets, her amusement in her surroundings rendering her completely oblivious to the fact that she was a walking oddity in this place.

The childlike wizard had come in search of adventure and entertainment and was completely naïve of what those words really meant in the real world and the danger they brought. While she had found little in her endeavors that could be classified as ‘adventurous’, she looked about her surroundings with widened eyes nonetheless. Never before had she seen such diversity nor such a large amount of people in one place. She had heard stories of course, but even the greatest storyteller could never clearly describe the scene she saw before her. Danni squealed with delight,

So THIS is what the world has to show me!

Her eyes then fell on the closest tavern just a few stalls to her left. It was blandly built with only the minimal decoration and sported the name of “Broken Bard Tavern”. Really, what better place for gossip of adventure than a tavern? Danni spent only a moment brushing off the excess dust from her feet using the bottom of her staff before confidently stepping inside. She proudly walked up to the counter and was forced to hoist herself up onto a tall barstool in order to see eye-to-eye with the bartender, whom she admired with a pleasant smile. She was met with a strong tone of sarcasm,

“Well, Squirt? You going to order something, or just sit there looking pretty?”

Danni immediately dropped her smile and ordered a tankard of ale in her best attempt at mock-experience, though she doubted she’d be able to drink the whole thing. Lightly sipping the frothy drink, she listened to the talk of gladiator battles and of slave trade in the city. Such things interested her little, and she had absolutely no desire to watch a bunch of brutes at each other’s throats in a ring; it was simply not the form of entertainment she was looking for. She sat lost in her own thoughts as a rough hand fell upon her shoulder. Turning her neck, she came face to face within inches of a scowling man. Danni leaned backwards as he spoke, emitting a very unpleasant stench of alcohol and sweat,

“Hey kid, what do you think you’re doing in my seat?!”

Danni lifted his hand with hers and removed it from her shoulder, “Terribly sorry, I wasn’t aware of whom it belonged to. Allow me to apologize for my intrusion.” She hopped down from the barstool and bowed lightly before turning around. She was halted in midstride by his heavy hand on her shoulder once again. This time, however, it spun her around to face him a little too forcefully.

“I don’t think you understand. You see, everyone here knows that there’s my seat. And everyone includes you! You got some compensation for being so rude, kid?”

Danni was a newbie traveler and knew little of the outside world, but she was far from dimwitted. She knew that this man wanted trouble and that whatever she would say or do would invite no leniency. Her mind quickly raced for a solution out of her dire situation,

Discretion is the key.

She smiled and apologized once more, “I am truly sorry to have offended you and beg of your forgiveness.” Her eyes were not focused on his as she spoke, however, but rather on the sash belt tied tightly around his slacks. She drove all of her concentration into the knotted material and weakened its composition, thinning it in the process. Then it happened- the buffoon flushed red as the whole tavern burst into hoots and hollers- his oversized slacks had fallen to the floor revealing his lack of undergarments. As he rushed in drawing them back up and retying his belt, Danni dropped her concentration and rushed out the door. She was halfway down the steps when a crushing blow hit the back of her head, sending her face first into the path. Danni flipped over slowly and fell back on her elbows. Her vision was out of focus but it was hard to mistake who was standing angrily above her.

Damn buffoon, what does he think he's doing, making a fool of me!

Any rationale had completely removed itself from her mind at this point. As the stars danced before her eyes, she attempted one last reasoning with her assailant giving her politest smile, “Really, I don’t want any trouble”. She became only vaguely aware of the scene that they had caused as a small crowd gathered around them.

So much for discretion.