A chill wind is blowing, like some great force gathering its breath. There are rumors going through the land of Brackenhorst. There's talk of orcs and goblins stalking the woods at night, something that the elves told the men in hushed whispers, huddled beneath the shade of the Dark Forest's edge. In turn, the men of the plains say they see lights on top of the old fortress, the Grim Spire, that cursed place in the foothills that was abandoned so long ago. Dwarves, masters of the Tall Mountains, have heard movement in the dark; shuffling and screeching, and drums in the deep. Even the centaurs are restless. Birdsong has left the air. Something is afoot.
One of the last remaining members of an order dedicated to the protection of the land has gathered a group of individuals to investigate this. People from all walks of life and different races have banded together, united in a common purpose, be they elves, dwarves or men. For their leader remembers the old tales and sees the warning signs that others have missed. Could it be that a terrible evil has returned? Or is there some other force driving these events, summoning dark servants out of hiding?
This unlikely band of heroes-to-be must journey far away from home, deep into the heart of darkness, to discover the truth and put an end to this menace before it can begin.
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Hello there! Welcome to the Insidious Night, an old-fashioned fantasy mystery roleplay full of the familiar trappings and tropes we all know and love. The premise is simple, the setting straightforward and the plot uncomplicated. Evil may or may not have returned to the lands your character calls home and now is the time to investigate. One of the last members of a very old order, the Watchful, established in ages past for reasons long forgotten to the uninitiated, has returned to Brackenhorst. He aims to investigate the rumored sightings of orcs in the Dark Forest, the home of the wood elves.
Before we continue, you must first know more about Brackenhorst, the surrounding areas and the creatures that live there. Below you will find a modest compendium containing the information you need.
Brackenhorst is located in the Bracken fields, a mass of fertile, sprawling farmland as far as the eye can see. It is the home of men, who live there in little villages and townships. No king rules these lands, and men live free, honest lives as farmers and craftsmen. When the need arises they gather in impromptu militia to defend their lands; mostly against the ever-present threat of the centaurs. Humans have mastered the forging of iron and use it to create weapons, tools and armor. Their homes are sturdy and made of stone or wood, built to last the test of time.
To the north of Brackenhorst is giant forest that the men of the Bracken fields rarely venture into. As is typical of these simple-minded people, it doesn't have a particularly original name, and is merely known as the Dark Forest. It owes its name to the perpetual twilight that exists beneath its many branches. Elves live here, a race of lithe, deeply spiritual hunters, though they're quite secretive about where in the forest exactly. The elves live in the canopy and make all their weapons and tools from wood. They prefer the bow and arrow, using the teeth of predators as arrowheads -- for the elves aren't the only creatures that dwell there. The forest is large, dense and mostly unexplored, and some say that even the trees themselves can come to life.
To the east of the Bracken fields, spanning all the way around the northeastern edge of the Dark Forest, is a mountain range known simply as the Tall Mountains. Dwarves live beneath these mountains in great halls carved into the rock. They organize themselves into Great Clans that each occupy different areas of the vast mountains and are the only race capable of forging steel. According to the dwarves, there is a dark land on the other side of these mountains, which is where the orcs, goblins and other unsavory creatures come from, but no one alive has been there and seen it for themselves.
On the other side of the Bracken fields, to the west, one will find the Badlands. It is a seemingly endless waste inhabited by nomadic tribes of centaurs. They occasionally perform raids on Brackenhorst, looking to claim crops and slaves, and they are determined to steal the secret of iron. When they're not harassing the humans the various centaur tribes fight among themselves. They live in tent-camps made from animal hide and never stay put for long.
To the south, in warmer lands, vast kingdoms and empires of elves, men and other races thrive and wage war on one another. But this roleplay does not concern them. The affairs of kings have no relevance here. I only mention them because if you, dear reader, fancy playing a more sophisticated, worldly character, having them hail from these lands is an option.
That's all the information you really need. Feel free to fill in the blanks and make up stuff yourself while creating your character. In fact, I encourage it.
In order to conduct a proper investigation, the Watchful Man has gathered a troupe of five others. His preference goes out to a balanced group that includes all races and both genders. While Brackenhorst is filled with regular Johns who plow the lands and raise their families, it's highly unlikely that any of them would willingly follow a stranger into the forest, don't you agree? It'll be the eccentric, the curious and the lost that would have the inclination to join. Make sure you know what your character's motivation is and what they contribute to the party.
In order to join this illustrious fellowship, fill out the form below.
Currently, no further adventurers are required.
Name: What do others call you? Gender: Sir or mamzel? Age: How long have you walked this earth, mortal? Yes, that goes for elves too. They live long, but not forever. Race: Man of the Fields, elf of the Forest, or dwarf of the Mountains?
Appearance: How fair might you be to the eye? Written description is mandatory, though feel free to augment this with a picture if you have one to provide.
History: What has led up to this point in your life? Be concise, novels are not required. Quality over quantity. Keep in mind: these lands have been more-or-less peaceful for centuries, but that doesn't mean you haven't had an exciting life!
Personality: What are you like? Again, a summary. Let your character's actions speak for themselves in the roleplay but give me an idea of what to expect.
Skills: What might you be good at? A master-at-arms, maybe? Or a stealthy pair of eyes in the night? What's that? Magic? No, I don't think so. That art has long been lost to time. Very few in these lands still know how and you are not one of them.
Possessions: What do you bring with you on this journey? Weapons, armor, trinkets, odds and ends; that sort of thing.
Miscellaneous: Did I forget anything? Tell me here.
For an example and to see my own character in this roleplay, the aforementioned Watchful Man and leader of this expedition, look towards the following.
Name: Thaddeus. Gender: Male. Age: He would appear to be in his thirties. Race: Man.
Appearance: The Watchful Man is a tall, striking figure of a lean build. He looks decidedly weather-worn; from his unkempt, black, shoulder-length hair, to the stubble on his face, to the disheveled status of his ranger's gear. What stands out among all the grime and the grit are his startlingly green eyes, twinkling with... yes, with what exactly?
History: Born in Brackenhorst, Thaddeus has roamed the land from a young age. Nobody is quite sure how exactly he came to be part of the Watchful, an order that has been on the decline for a long time, its purpose lost to history. Thaddeus has always watched over the men of the Fields, hunting down any and all signs of sinister activity. Every time, however, it has turned out to be something minor, or just another centaur attack. It was as if Thaddeus was looking for something that he couldn't find, suspecting a taint that wasn't there. About ten years ago, Thaddeus left Brackenhorst. Where he traveled, one couldn't say. South, perhaps, to the greater lands there, with their kings and wars and giant cities and self-importance.
The rumors drew him back. Was there finally something worth pursuing? Whatever the case might be, orcs being sighted in the Dark Forest is more than enough reason for him to investigate. They haven't been seen on this side of the Tall Mountains in generations. And so, he gathered a party of remarkable individuals. Now it's time to see what this fuss is all about.
Personality: Thaddeus is both serious and mischievous – a natural leader, always with a glint of humor in his eyes. He's easy to make friends with and generally quite likable, but sometimes infuriating in his insistence to keep information to himself, expecting others to trust and follow him completely. He is protective of and loyal to those by his side but he won't let them get in the way of his mission. Keeping the land safe is his paramount objective. Anything else, and anyone else, is secondary.
Skills: Thaddeus is a ranger, skilled with both the sword and the bow, though a master of neither. His true strength lies in tracking and investigating. His sharp eyes see things that others miss, his nose picks up trails that others can't find, his mind makes connections that others might not have thought of... and he remembers things that others no longer do.
Possessions: An iron longsword, a bow, a quiver with homemade arrows, a map, his drab ranger's clothing (including a leather greatcoat), a dagger, some coin, and an empty vial on a chain around his neck.
Miscellaneous: I don't think I forgot anything.
If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. Accepted characters can be found in the Characters tab.
Assuming life doesn't continue to make this week a pile of steaming shit, I'll get to work on it and hopefully have something fancy in by the deadline.
Name: Ragnek Stonehold Gender: Sir Age: He is in his mid-fifties, which for a Dwarf is still young. Race: Dwarf of the Mountains
Appearance: Ragnek is a few inches under five foot and as square as a door-frame. Like all Dwarves he takes pride in his long red beard, well, not so long yet. Only down to his chest, but it is rather thick and curly! His eyes are as dark as the stone his people mine and often just as hard. He dresses in modest clothing mostly, though when dressed for war he prefers thick armor and a thicker shield.
History: As a youth Ragnek helped his father work the forge, making weapons and armor for soldiers as well as helping fix more mundane items. When he was of age he decided to join that same army, though beyond basic drills there was not much in the way for excitement and so Ragnek decided to fall back on his skill as a craftsmen, going back to aid his father and soldier only part-time now.
Personality: Ragnek is surprisingly vocal for a dwarf and a bit more curious than the rest of his kin as well. He is quick to make friends. Though he doesn’t take kindly to those that insult those same friends, family or gods.
Skills: While Ragnek can’t claim to be a master of anything he is a skilled blacksmith and soldier, capable of using his hammer and shield with practiced efficiency. He is also rather fond of fishing, and takes pride in being something of a cook.
Possessions: A steel warhammer and shield, a heavy crossbow with 20 bolts. Scale Armor, a fishing pole, a collection of spices and a donkey he has named Lug to carry it all.
Miscellaneous: His favorite color is purple. Ask why and find out!
While I concede that I asked for quality over quantity, this sheet is particularly thin. In and of itself that isn't a problem, but I am not seeing two things that I asked for; motive and eccentricity. The last one is a little difficult to define, but it basically boils down to the fact that there is nothing special about Ragnek. He's just a dwarf smith that knows how to fight.
I'd like for you to add something that really makes Ragnek unique. What sets him apart from the other dwarves? Why is it he that goes on a quest with Thaddeus, and not any of the other dwarves?
And I'm sorry to hear your life is a pile of shit, @Dervish. Let me know if I can help you out in some way.
Name: Gryffyth Wolfsblood, "Gryff" for short, called "Outcast" by the Elves Gender:Elf Male Age: An impetuous youth of 87, though this is nearly impossible to tell by anyone who is not an Elf. Race: Elf of the Forest
Appearance: To the eyes of men, one Elf looks much like another, as they each possess an sleek, almost ethereal beauty. Gryff is no different, though his lithe form and crisp, angular features are marred by the scars of life in the wilds. Like most forest-borne Elves, his coloration is warm and earthy, with bronzed skin, hair the color of molten copper and eyes the same brown as rosewood. His long, wiry hair is generally kept tied behind his head, and he usually dresses in simple vestments of woven flax and thick leather. He does not wear shoes, and his clothing leaves much of his sun-kissed skin uncovered. On some occasions, Gryff will paint his skin with dark, green pigments, or don a rough-spun hooded cloak, making him ever more difficult to spot in the underbrush of the Dark Forest.
History: The Elves of the Dark Forest, considered barbarians and pariahs by their civilized, southron kin, live in insular, close-knit societies hidden in the brush and trees. However, they are notoriously distrustful of outsiders, even of Elves that hail from other groves in the forest. Gryffyth Wolfsblood was raised in a particularly raucous grove. When he was very young, a faun that rarely strayed from his mother's side, Men had come trampling into their glen with their axes and flame, and the elder Elves had not taken kindly to it. They swept into the human settlement under the cover of night, and killed their destructive woodsmen in their sleep. However, their message was not well-taken by the humans that remained. The other men took their revenge by setting the forest ablaze, burning down the hidden village in which Gryff and his family lived.
Gryff was one of the few that survived, escaping the blaze by fleeing into the depths of the forest, tightly clutching a bone dagger. For days he traveled alone, and nearly died, until he happened upon another Elvish village. Knowing the ways of his people, and did not beg them to take him in, as he knew none would. Rather, he lived on the outskirts of their village, surviving on their scraps and learning by careful observation. On occasion he would be run off, and would flee to another village to do much the same. In time, Gryff learned to survive on his own, and explored the Dark Forest and the lands beyond. His curiosity was not tempered by the reclusive nature of the Elves, and so he learned much and grew bolder with each passing day. In time, he even took to the villages of Humans nearby, caring little that they had taken his family from him so many years ago.
Personality: Most expect a certain demeanor from Elves; an aloof, haughty condescension, masked beneath layers of subtlety and misdirection. In some ways Gryff meets this description, as his emotions are subtle and difficult to gauge, and his moods can shift suddenly and capriciously. Even so, he is remarkably friendly and polite for one of the Fair Folk, especially towards the races of Men and Dwarves. Resembling to many a rambunctious teenager, he is vigorous and excitable, as well as incredibly curious about the lives and experiences of others. Even so, he carries a certain force of will and confidence unique to Elves; if he knows something another does not, or can perform a task better than they can, one should not expect him to keep quiet about it.
Skills: Having spent his life in the wilds of the Dark Forest, away even from other Elves, Gryff is a survivalist extraordinaire. Easily able to live off of the land, he can identify with ease such plants that can hurt or heal, recognize and track dangerous or helpful beasts, and can pass through the forest below the notice of many. As with most Elves, Gryff is a crack shot with a bow, and his senses are sharper in the wilds than any Man, Dwarf or other such race. Up close, Gryff prefers to fight with a spear, but will resort to a dagger when in restrictive environments. As the one of the few skills he remembers from his parents, Gryff also has some experience in handling and breeding beasts, wolves in particular, and is so comfortable with the animals that it seems as though he speaks their howling tongue.
Possessions: Gryff wears light, hand-made clothes, including a thick cloak, a waterskin and sturdy satchel. His deerskin quiver carries arrows of wood, bone and eagle feathers that he fletched himself, and his bow is carved from yew and strung with the sinew of an elk. His spear is sturdy oak, lacquered with sap and beeswax, and hardened in fire. His dagger, a memento of his parents, has a the fang of some great beast as a blade and a handle of carved bone. Gryff carries a variety of useful herbs and other natural ingredients with him, which can be made into poultices or poisons as he needs them.
Miscellaneous: Gryff's faithful companion is Lwyci, a dire wolf that he had raised since the beast was a cub. The wolf is frightening to behold, standing well above Gryff's waist at its shoulder, with a dark grey pelt and yellow eyes. Having spent much time in the forest together, Gryff and Lwyci are much like brothers, helping one another in their daily lives. Lwyci is a skillful hunter and tracker, and is large enough for the lithe elf to ride on. While distrustful of strangers, Lwyci is utterly loyal to Gryff, and would likely lay down its life to protect him.
Got the sheet more or less done in rough form, going to take some time tomorrow to edit it and hopefully have it out the door. I'm actually pretty happy with my character concept.
Appearance: Warwick is a man of strong physical stature brought about from a life of hard labour on the plains, and his fair complexion is tanned from a life largely spent out of doors. Standing at 5’09”, he is not remarkable in height, and he is slightly underweight due to a hard winter with lean provisions. His blue eyes look sunken and tired, but with a glint of curiosity and friendliness to be found as he takes in the world, and his sandy hair is kept shaved along the sides of his skull and kept in a long braid that falls between his shoulder blades. His body has numerous scars, mostly along his arms, largely from injuries sustained while working with the bison herds or spear fishing on the river. His face is considered comely, although it is dominated by a hooked nose that had clearly been broken and set some time ago, and a shortly trimmed beard that does not grow along a long scar along his right cheek.
History: A member of the Blackbriar family, Warwick was born in the plains and outside of the towns and villages that dot the landscape, and the only life he’s known has been tending to the family’s herd of bison for generations. As a boy, he quickly learned the family trade as a ranch hand and his earliest memories include helping birth and rear. The second oldest of 7 children, Warwick has long since been groomed to take responsibility for the family’s livelihood in case anything happens to the patriarch of the family, his father Dorian. Having built his own home, a simple stone and mud brick dwelling with a thatch roof, Warwick has been sustaining himself for years on his own while travelling the short distance to the family holdings to help with the herds daily. His mother, Maria, wishes for him to be married and to start a family within the year, and the regional gathering of the Summer Feast is where she aims to arrange his marriage.
Normally among Warwick’s people, marriage is arranged when one turns 16, but the past 6 years have been impossible to leave the responsibility of the homestead behind for the biannual gathering. Between predators, disease, and raiders, none of the Blackbriar clan felt it safe to leave for the weeks required to journey to the town of Ralay, where dozens of regional families converge. The past two years in particular have felt even more desperate, with the bison acting more and more skittish about something unknown and refusing to cross the river to the North, where ample grazing lands lay against the border of the Northern Forest, an omen somehow even more unsettling than the increase in centaur raids upon the homestead in recent memory.
As the family prepares furs and meats from the harvested bison for the Summer Feast, Thon, the eldest Blackbriar son, has gone missing and Dorian has fallen ill to an unknown fever. Fearing for their lives, Warwick grabbed his steed, Starla, and rode to Brackenhorst, both in search of a healer who could save his father and for leads of where his brother could have gone. Deep down, Warwick feels that the growing dread from the North Forest may hold the answers.
Personality: A warm soul with a strong work ethic, Warwick knows hardship all too well and cherishes the simple things in life. Not a city person by any means, Warwick feels lost and uncomfortable in crowds, and he finds the somewhat oblivious nature of townsfolk to the wilderness somewhat baffling. He’s a fierce fighter and is not afraid to put himself in harm’s way to protect loved ones and those under his watch, which is an explosive contrast to his more contemplative nature.
Skills: A skilled hunter and fighter with both spear and war club, Warwick has spent most of his life fending off predatory wildlife, his fellow men, and centaurs alike with great success. A spear fisherman, he is a strong swimmer and has incredible precision and reflexes with his weapon, as well as a high degree of patience and concentration compared to many other people. Warwick is very attuned to animals, and he is very adept at tracking as well as being able to judge an animal’s intentions and needs thanks to growing up and caring for a large herd and observing other wildlife. He is a survivor and is very hardy, capable of living off scarce resources and making the most of land that has few trees or stones, and no way of reaching the metals.
Possessions: A six foot hardwood spear with an iron head purchased from traders, a hand carved war club crafted some years before from lumber harvested from felled trees in the North Forest, a bone handled hunting knife, a vest of armour crafted from bones, bison leather clothing (pants, shirt, ankle high boots, fur overcoat), two water skins, a sleeping bag, coin, and his bison steed, Starla.
Miscellaneous: He speaks with a heavy, but easily understood, accent that is very uncommon to hear outside of his region.
There we go. I assumed that it was going to be a summer-month time frame, and I put some tidbits about Warwick's culture that can be fleshed out later on, but the goal was trying to be concise as possible.
Appearance Tina is a slight woman, wiry and thin, and with a light skin tone and clear complexion. Her eyes are soft, but quick, and her frame is not that of a sickly person- but rather the wiry frame of an athlete. She isn't too tall, rising up to the height of 5'04", and is a sprightly gal weighing just over 110 LBS.
Her hair is black, and cut short as if by a knife in private rather than any actual care or styling.
Personality "I like to think of myself as a quirky sort- plucky at worst, eccentric at best-- what, it's weird to consider yourself eccentric? Well, I suppose that only furhter cements my eccentricism! Ha!...But uh...yeah- anyway! I'm a nice enough girl, if you ask me, although there are a handful of people down south who'd sing my dirge rather than my praise, if you catch my meaning. It's not my fault I had to break a few locks to make a fortune!..Or was it a few eggs to make an omellete?...I'm always getting my words mixed up, and I do have a tendency to ramble on...so..."
Far to the south, in the land of kings and their wars, is a city called 'Bridgetower'. The city is aptly named for it is a trade city that originated as a town thriving around a bridge spanning a great violent river. A very great river, indeed. The bridge was ancient, and none could remember its origins. Some claimed it was build by wizards to make travel easier, others say it was simply ingenious work by ancestor men...Either way, this bridge was vital for the area's trade, as otherwise trade moving inland from the coast would have to travel through the treacherous mountains to the east and circumvent the river altogether.
Then there was the Tower- another object of mystery and study, that was quickly appropriated as the local King's summer home. The tower existed as long as the bridge had, many claimed.
For these two simple objects, the town was known as Bridgetower.
And for these two simple reasons- the bridge providing a path for trade, and the king making the Tower his summer home- Bridgetower turned into an absolutely massive city of trade in what seemed like a few years following its inception. And with the trade, people, guards, order, and kings came Thieves. A city of gold can't exist without a network of people who seek to take the gold away from the city, after all.
Amongst this network of thieves was an organization known as 'The Forty Thieves', a closely knit alliance of fixers, forgers, thieves, and bitter merchants who never quite made it to lord status.
They were opportunists, and none amongst them were more renown than the Mouse.
The legends of The Mouse extend far and wide in the southern kingdoms, and many pretenders have claimed the name. Amongst the Forty Thieves, there was a common phrase all would say at one point or another in their time; 'I am a Mouse, ser, nothing more'. Of course, all who claimed to be The Mouse were executed or carted far away and never heard from again, but the effect was paramount- The king and his guardsmen were sent on goose chases, scattered and wild, in search of the Illusive Mouse.
All because of one woman who bore the name first; Tina So'Viari.
It was night, and the girl was incredibly anxious. She was standing on a high peaked roof, and her eyes, with all the infinite places they could be looking, found themselves staring down at the ground. She sucked in a deep breath, took a careful step back. Then another. Then another. Then another.
She opened her eyes- or, rather, realized she had them closed for the first time, then opened them. She pulled the dark hood she wore about her head. The tunnel the fabric created in her vision was almost calming, it helped steele her nerves and made her focus on her objective.
"You've done this a-hundred times by now, come on. Practice makes perfect. Come on. Come on. Come on..." She repeated this to herself a half dozen more times, then set out at a sprint across the roof- and leapt into the open air.
For what felt like eternity she hung in the air, her path clearly marked in her head, and she realized she fucked up. She saw herself sailing forward, much too fast, much too high- she under-measured the distance!
She twisted her body, kicked her legs up, extended her arms out-
and slammed into the stone wall with an 'oomph' sound...but she had deadened the impact with her limbs, and had slowed her descent enough for her to drop down and finally grasp her target without further harm; a windowsill, high up in the air to let the cool night breeze in. She clung to it for dear life, then steadily pulled herself up. Inch by inch. Until she could get her shoulders in through the window. Once she had gotten herself this far, silently coiling her body through was easy enough. She sighed to herself as she rolled to her feet and breathed out.
"What the fuck are you doing in here?" A voice rang through her ears. "A thief, are ya?"
A light turned on in the room- Bad! Bad! Light is bad! The girl turned her head away fiercely and relied on her ears. Heavy footsteps, slurred speech, limbering gait- the man was drunk, heavy set. Large. Tina panicked, backed away from him. He moved faster.
"Tell me who you are-- oi, can you 'ere me?" The man reached for the girl's hood- but she was quick, faster than he could react in his inebriated state. He lurched forward, but the girl was already rolling past him, and springing to her feet. She delivered a solid kick to the large man's rear end and nearly had a heart attack due to the catastrophe that occurred- he lurched forward and toppled halfway out the window she herself had climbed through!
Letting out a squeak of panic the girl ran forward and, grabbing at the man's shirt and trousers, struggled to help the flailing drunkard back through the window.
Which, furthering the girl's impending sense of catastrophe, inevitably resulted in the man collapsing back atop her. Well, that would have been bad enough in itself, beside the fact his screaming and flailing had broken any sense of cover the girl had possessed. To top it off, she couldn't move the bastard's body off of herself, and the man chortled with laugher as he pinned her down.
"What ar' you? Some dormouse who decided 'e could try and rob me and me mates while we threw this big party? Ha! Who 'ent you? Was it Hodi? It had to be Hodi! Bastard thinks I owe him money! Ha!"
The man picked up the girl, flailing as she might, and carried her off.
--
The Girl ended up arrested, of course. She was an amateur, and at the time was working solo. She had simply heard that this party was being thrown in passing and had worked up the courage to try and break into the place the very same day. She ended up branded as a thief as per Bridgetower law, the thief's mark- a very distinct thorned 'x'- was branded upon the back of the girl's neck, and to top it off she was beaten by the guards quite severely- and her trial was then concluded with the age-old garnish for thieves who got caught; removal of the left hand ring finger.
Now, no matter where the girl went or what she did, all would know her as a thief.
As it is easy to understand, the girl's life, from that moment on, was guided onto the singular path of a thief and rogue. Just as easy to understand is the drive that build the girl up from that day on- the simmering fire of 'revenge' and 'retribution' that sat in her gut at the nobility's lack of understanding for a common girl's plight.
They had never even asked her 'why' she was doing it, simply saw the act and punished her mechanically.
There was no compassion in nobility, and certainly no companionship in coin.
The circumstances behind the rise of the Mouse are a mystery many claim to know, but the truth of the matter is that only the original Forty Thieves know the truth, and that it is simple, just like the ruse of The Mouse is in itself...
Guy So'Viari was a fledgeling merchant and business man, who owned and operated a fledgeling merchant's guild. He was fighting the already established Commerce Guild as well as the King's Trade just to try and eke out a meager existence for his family. Guy So'Viari had no wife and no children, but he had a sister and a niece he loved dearly; Virdiana So'Viari and Tina So'Viari.
Guy was a businessman who had earned his reputation for good honest deals by dealing with the common folk and, well, giving them good, honest, deals! The margin for profit was almost nonexistent, but as long as business came to him he could stay afloat and keep his other guild members in business. They weren't out to dominate the market, but they wanted there to be competition- for if Guy's Guild did not operate, then the people of Bridgetower would be under a monopoly of expensive goods [The Commerce Guild] or shoddy goods [The King's Trade runoff of trade].
Guy wouldn't stand for the strangulation of the poor, and thus fought and clawed his way up to the merchant class through honesty and determination. He could feed his family, he could establish connection in other cities. He could stand on his own two feet and meet people's eyes without shame.
But how he found himself today on the gallows with a noose about his neck he'll never fully understand. He had cut a deal with the Commerce Guild, a symbiotic trade agreement for bulk bargaining for imports. He thought it wise, as it would save himself as well as the people he considered friendly competition money, which would inevitably get funneled back into the community.
He never doubted for one second the honesty and reputation of his competitors, nor did he every once imagine their greed and power.
Not until he was slapped in chains, and a document, in his script, was placed down before him. This document was incredibly incriminating, you see, and it did naught but place his guild in ruin after its publication.
The document was thus;
'Dear Sers of the Commerce Guild,
I am a humble merchant, Guy So'Viari. Our dealings in the past have been both mutual and beneficial, however profits for my guild have never been high. I am well aware you see my business as a parasite- one that undercuts and leeches off your own- and I am writing this missive as a precaution. There are many who see you as tyrants, dominators of trade, and it is without doubt that my own business is a paragon of the people. Perhaps you, and yours, should begin to treat my business with more respect and agree to more marketable terms? It would truly be a shame if the people grew angered with your high prices and pompousness, and I would hate to see your stores burn for ignorance. In the interest of mutual economical stability, and for the safety of your people, I have warned you of this possibility. The people could, at any day, see you as having grown too fat in your high chairs- too distant from the common man! You act as noble, when you are naught but a commoner with gold in his pocket, and that angers the poor folk of Bridgetower...'
Guy couldn't finish reading the entire missive. It was written in his hand, that was without doubt, but he had never penned the incriminating document! He knew this, but could not argue it, for many documents bearing his script were compared to the slanderous letter, and all agreed it was written by his hand!
This letter damned Guy, as it was a very poorly veiled threat to the Commerce Guild, and the King did not tolerate underhanded business and corruption this openly in his city. The risk of a peasant revolt was far too high and real from such a letter, and if Guy, as the letter said, was seen as a paragon of these people...
Then he must be removed from the equation. That is simply how it must be. There would be no revolts in Bridgetower, there would be no burning of the city, and there would definitely be no more threat from Guy So'Viari- because even if he had not written the letter himself, the threats and words within it were true enough.
The people, especially after the publication, saw Guy as a martyr.
That is, until his execution.
His family was standing front and center to witness the event, escorted by armed guards.
When he hanged, his sister wept and his niece watched as her only escape from poverty died.
The people of Bridgetower lost all fervor and returned to their mundane lives...
---
Tina, as she witnessed the death of her uncle, also witnessed the death of her livelihood. Her mother was sickly, couldn't work, and had to stay home.
As Guy's death hit the guild, the guild tried to scramble and stay alive...but the new guildmaster soon sold out and sold the guild to the Commerce Guild and integrated into it, only further cementing their hold on Bridgetower's trade.
The city thrived, but the poor stayed poor.
And got poorer still.
Tina soon found herself going out into the streets at night to try and find some way to keep her mom in a bed, to keep a roof over her mom's head, some way to find money where her uncle used to be.
And when her mom died, Tina found herself alone, with nobody to take care of her but herself, and so she became a petty thief at a young age.
This tragic tale is indeed that; tragic! However it is not unique! In Bridgetower many youths found themselves on differing sides of this divide; either peasant or rich. The peasant children then found themselves separated into the usual divisions peasants found themselves into; those who would grow to be farmers, those who would grow to be soldiers, those who wouldn't grow, and those who became scum and thieves.
Tina, for a while, looked like she would be one of those children who didn't grew- those who died young in an alleyway of a large city and were quickly forgotten.
But she did not, she found she had a natural penchant for climbing and leaping, and used this as her way into the life of a thief.
At this youthful state in her life, she became introduced to the life of stealing and hiding, and in the end it became the life she kept.
Her later successes and story are mired in fable and legend, both of The Mouse and of the Forty Thieves themselves.
Many claim she was the proprietor of the 'Great Commerce Guild Scandal', wherein the Commerce Guild has a massive shipment of gold rerouted and scattered within the city's underground network all because of one forged document.
Many claim that Mouse, as well as The Forty Thieves, were the ones who stole the king's crown and returned it to him a week later- or, at least, a very finely made replica of it.
Others, still, will say that the Forty Thieves and the Mouse were even hired by the king to steal from the surrounding cities great and ancient tomes of magical referendum to house in his tower.
But nothing is certain, as the Forty Thieves are almost a myth these days. The Mouse is a legend that children whisper when they play games- 'I am the Mouse, and you're the nasty guardmen! I'll hide and you find me!', etc.- And whatever happened to the real mouse is a mystery...
The mouse had gotten ludicrously rich with the help of the Forty Thieves, and to be perfectly honest it was mostly their doing. She did a good deal of the leg work and actual thievery herself, but they handled the planning and masterminding of the whole deal.
But eventually The Mouse wanted out of it, and they cut a deal; The Mouse would pull one last job, and then she would go into hiding and pass the name on. The legend of the Mouse had to stay alive, even if the Mouse herself had left Bridgetower altogether, after all.
And so the deed was done, and the Mouse was made a name of infamy as it was attached to a crime of legend; The Commerce Guild's signet ring, the one he used to seal letters, was stolen from his very hand by The Mouse.
In the span of a week, the forty thieves brought the Commerce Guild to its knees through forged and sealed missives. Bridgetower was in chaos, and the forthy thieves split- and the Mouse left her fortune in their hands.
She wanted simple in her life, she wanted calm.
So she headed north, away from the chaos of Bridgetower, and became a pilgrim of sorts. She wandered, helped people where she could, and tried to see as much of the world as she could.
In the end, she settled down in a [relatively] peaceful realm. Brackenhorst was calm and quiet, save the centaur attacks, and for a few years now Tina has lived there in a quiet home, living as reasonably well-to-do farmer. She has avoided excitement for so long, but the itch for adventure is building up...
Skills As a thief from the southern kingdoms, Tina is one of many talents- she did thrive after all!
"I dare say there isn't a wall I can't climb given a bit of elbow room and time, and don't even get me started on how anxious I used to get trying to make these disasterous leaps across the rooftops back home- now I'm so used to it that heights don't even make me nervous anymore."
Thief-Acrobat - Tina is a sprightly girl with ample spring in her step. Scaling walls, leaping between rooftops- or across chasms!-, and the fluid movement through an area through the use of said environment, are all skills the woman has mastered. Falling safely is also within this, as well.
"On the less fantastic side of things, I was a thief you know- I can handle locks if given enough time, but I admit my M.O. was finding an open window rather than getting through a door...but uh...I can move pretty damn quiet, I've never woken someone up I meant to get past, and I'm damn fast with my hands...Never gotten caught checking a guy's pockets, that I haven't!...Though I probably shouldn't brag about these things nowadays, right?"
Thief-Burglar - Tina is quick with her hands, light in her step, and perceptive to boot. She can shake a man's hand and have his rings off without him noticing. She can walk briskly through a room and not make a sound. She can disappear into a crowd, or if need be, into a shadow [or, rather, hide in a shadow- it's not really possible for a person to 'disappear', you see, just hide really well!]. That being said, she isn't the greatest person in the world when it comes to locks, but she can get most open with a bit of time. Her style really is fast and quiet.
"Have I ever gotten into a fight? Yeah, a few scrapes here and there, but for the most part I avoided them. I mostly got into these big upscale brawls in taverns. Guards bust in, ruin the mood, pisses off the wrong drunk- oh, it's pretty damn glorious to have your cover maintained by a drunk who don't know any better, and you get to give a few good kicks and punches to the right people in the process! Ha!...But I don't usually get into fights no, and if I do I prefer 'running' to, uh, 'dying'. Duh."
Thief-Brawler - Tina is not a fighter by nature or even by trade, but she has picked up a few tricks in pugilistic arts just by proxy of the incidents of her trade. She can throw a solid punch, and a solid kick, but she's far from skilled and masterful. She really is just a brawler at best, and she prefers to run rather than fight.
"Whaddya mean? Of course I can read and write! Hell, I could write for you and nobody could tell the difference! I could sign the king's signature if I had a copy of it- which I don't, mind you, but I know a guy who could get it for the right price...Or, at least, a guy who brags he could...But uh, I digress. That's beside the point. I'm not daft, I'm a learned girl myself!
Thief-Forger - Tina is quite literate, and has spent a lot of time studying how people write. Signatures are powerful things in the lands of lords and ladies, kings and merchant guilds. Any signature or writing sample she could get her eyes on from a mark she would study, and plan with. She can take a scrap of writing from a lordling and turn it into a full-blown confession to a crime in a matter of hours...
"Nowadays I spend my days tending a small field and trying to grow a small crop. Trying. Centaurs are damned impossible to deal with for a girl like me. What am I gonna do, kick a centaur? They've got two more appendages than I do, I think they win with that math. But I have to say, I've picked up a few things from working the earth...And, well, I can see why some people favor being merchants to farmers...but it's simple, and it keeps me happy...for the most part..."
Farmer and Land Owner - Tina, in her recent years, has lived as a farmer- far from her old life. She understands the basics of tilling and caring for land, and now possesses a deeper understanding of the common man's plight. She also has garnered a hatred for Centaurs, but that's beside the point. There aren't too many glossy skills to cover within this, but it was still worthy of categorization.
..."I think you get the idea of what kind of gal I am. Anything else I can do is pretty basic. I'm no alchemist, no assassin, no fighter. I'm a thief at heart.
Possessions Tina's possessions are Spartan and few, as she has lived as a farmer and land holder for several years now. She owns a few chickens [which she's constantly replacing. See; hatred of Centaurs] and tools to work the earth, as well as a few outfits of sturdy clothing.
However, hidden within her home is a chest of far too expensive and effective make for a farmer of her position to have purchased, and it is far too sturdily built and heavy for one to reasonably steal or break it. Within this is her thievery tools and adventuring gear, which she has held onto in the inevitability of her adventuring itch returning.
Miscellaneous [reiteration] Missing her left hand's ring finger [Thievery punishment]
Bears a brand on the base of her neck [Additional Bridgetower thievery punishment]
I fear I may have gotten long winded, or perhaps gotten a bit over-excited in my writing and vamped up the whole mystery/legend around the name a bit much, but I was trying to avoid a flaw I typically fall into which is drastic overdetailing- which I may have failed at doing, I tend to zone out while writing these things up.
Hello, I'd be interested in joining. One quick question though, do you have a set time span for this? It sounds like you have a story line planned so will the RP eventually end when the players fulfill the original quest or is it meant to go on "as long as it can"?
Hey @Hank, great stuff you got here. I'd love to join but I'm pretty busy with life and my own RP, plus, it seems like you've got a good cast lined up already.
Hello, I'd be interested in joining. One quick question though, do you have a set time span for this? It sounds like you have a story line planned so will the RP eventually end when the players fulfill the original quest or is it meant to go on "as long as it can"?
