Brink_

Welcome to the beginning!- A post-apocalyptic NRP

Franco-Iberia

Location
Southern Europe & North Africa

Land Owned
France, Greater Maghreb (Algeria, Libya, Morocco, Tunisia, Western Sahara), Portugal, Italy, Spain

Population
14.3 million

Language Spoken
Arabic, Berber (unofficially), French, Italian, Portuguese, Spanish

National History
Europe was spared the most direct effects of the nuclear apocalypse, but was scarcely prepared for the scale of the human crisis that followed. Mass migrations in Asia spilled over into Europe, and the old European Union struggled with how best to respond to the refugee crisis. Eastern nations wanted to address the refugee situation first; Western and Mediterranean nations wanted quick actions to guard against rising sea levels. Eventually the European Parliament found itself unable to control the actions of the member states or unify the confederation around a common course of action, and the "European dream" fell apart. While the old EU was no more, the individual nations still saw merit in maintaining close alliances, especially where there were shared priorities and shared crises. Spain and southern France, whose northern counterpart sought to side with Britain, were two of the first countries to form a political union, and Franco-Iberia was born a short 18 months after the formal dissolution of the EU. Both countries' ruling coalitions shared a common vision of widespread social reform in the wake of the war, innovative urban engineering projects whose designs could be used in new urban planning, and ecological engineering to restore the biosphere. This "techno-green" ideology would spread through Europe later, but the Franco-Iberian model is the oldest and arguably the most successful.

Since then, Franco-Iberia has extended across the Mediterranean ("The Romans are back" is a common joke) and down into North Africa. The Mediterranean Sea has turned from a threat to the greatest natural resource at Franco-Iberia's disposal, and the unification with North Africa brought Franco-Iberia a dynamic population and access to mineral resources. But perhaps the most striking aspect of Franco-Iberia was its focus on culture. Not only did the Union seek to preserve its past great works of art, but funded initiatives to encourage new generations of artists and authors to not only explore new art forms, but explicitly to continue the Renaissance and Enlightenment traditions. The Directorate-General for Education and Culture was aggressive in promoting and exporting European cultural works – especially through the media – to the rest of the world. For Franco-Iberians, their shared cultural history and the cultural infusion from North Africa has become a source of unifying pride. With such initiatives and stability, it is unsurprising that others sought to join Franco-Iberia in the face of a confusing and threatening world. Trésors de l'esprit is the byword; a citizen's riches should be carried in her mind and shared, not hidden away in a bank.

With its progressive attitudes, high standard of living, and thriving culture, Franco-Iberia has been a beacon for immigration. Highly-educated immigrants have flocked into its borders, not only to work in cultural fields, but on the massive infrastructure projects, such as Seventh Republic Paris and the Andalusian Solar Field Energy Project. The twin capitals of Lyon and Madrid gleam with new buildings. The restored Rome is a pilgrimage hub and world museum. Algiers' new port bustles day and night with a new class of low-energy cargo ships. Tunis is a shimmering resort city to the world, whose nightclubs and cafes thrum with the sound of a new generation of musicians. With such advantages, Franco-Iberians have admonished to conduct themselves in the best traditions of civilization and morality no matter the circumstances. After all, the guardians of Western Civilization could hardly do less.

Leader
President Cécilia María Sara Isabel Attias

Description of Govt.
Since its birth, Franco-Iberia has been governed by a President as head of state, serving terms of seven years. The actual business of national administration is handled by the Chamber of Deputies, whose seats are allotted to international departments based on population size. Franco-Iberia is one the world’s most democratic nations, having instituted universal suffrage within weeks of its most recent expansions. Although there are many political parties operating in this hothouse, politics have traditionally been dominated by the so-called Parti Gaulois, a nationalist (but strongly pro-Russian) organisation that have dominated both the presidency and the Chamber of Deputies for decades. Through their influence, Franco-Iberia has been officially allied to the Greater Russian Empire since its emergence into the post-apocalyptic world.

Technological Overview
Despite not being the brunt of the nuclear holocaust, Franco-Iberia has used its recovery as a testbed for many technologies and practices that have proved advantageous during these turbulent times of human development. "The War Against the Sahara" helped stop the desertification of neighboring Sub-Saharan territories, "New City Algiers" became the standard for high-efficiency urban living with high quality of life, and the "Great Heavenly Dive" demonstrated that effective naval craft could be mass-produced with post-war refuse.

Cultural Overview
Each region of the extensive Franco-Iberian European Union possesses a unique identity and unique elements, contributing, thus, to the making of national culture and to the civilization legacy. Franco-Iberia has set among its top priorities the protection of its legacy and the preservation of its member states' cultural identity.

Military Description
Franco-Iberian military organisation retains many of the features that had sustained its member states prior to the nuclear holocaust, but the crippling aftermath of the Third World War has given rise to extensive changes in equipment and tactics. The core of the Franco-Iberian army is still its elite regiments of European infantry, although their composition and role have changed greatly since their extensive (and brutal) reorganization during the the country's formation. These soldiers are trained as riflemen and grenadiers, utilizing the large caches of modern weaponry reserved for this sort of situation. Regiments are totally self-contained organisations, and even include their own medical and logistic services. Alongside these elites, the bulk of the Franco-Iberian armies are made up of Douleur regiments – conscript light infantry given basic training and equipment, and which form the mass manpower of the President's armies. Lastly, Franco-Iberian armoured regiments are crewed by a special class of soldiers known as Utile. Originally irregular, almost exclusively immigrant, light infantry units who also serve as guards and watchmen, the Utile regiments have evolved to become custodians of the President’s war machines, and are busily building a whole new military tradition based on the resurgence of cavalry.

Alongside the regular Franco-Iberian forces, there are many irregular troops from various quarters, such as desert nomads, who fight more or less as guerrilla forces. North African commanders allow such troops a high degree of autonomy, understanding that they operate best when left to fight as they know best.

The Franco-Iberian Navy is a single organisation that also encompasses the Aviation Corps. Franco-Iberian warships are strongly built and well armed, designed to operate almost as mobile fortresses in confined waters where the risk of surface and air attack is considerable and expertly fashioned from useable refuse. The Aviation Squadrons, a comparatively recent addition to Franco-Iberian military strength, as yet mostly employ redesigned versions of farming equipment, but are said to be rapidly re-equipping with new craft originated by the government’s own naval and aerial architects. There are also persistent rumours than the country may be attempting to acquire technology from its Russian allies.

The Age of Nations (19th century Nation RP)

Alemenya

The Second Alemenyan Confederation (Great Power)

GOVERNMENT
As befits a place where independence of mind, backroom intrigue and cut-throat politics holds sway, the Alemenyan League has no single leader. In fact, its homeland on the peninsula is divided into more than twenty independent duchies, republics and city-states. However, in practice, all of these smaller states owe allegiance to one or other of the four most powerful constituent states of the League. These are the Kingdom of Catifa, the Kingdom of Chipre, the Kingdom of Hongria and the Republic of Marsima. Not only are these the four largest states in Alemenyan itself, but it is they who have divided up the Confederation’s overseas holdings between themselves. Only Chipre lacks such prestige, but compensates by controlling the lucrative mountain trading routes into the Vresslan empire, as well as the Confederation’s major banking houses.

The Kings of Catifa, Chipre and Hongria, and the Duchess of the Marsiman Republic, form the so-called ‘Tetrarchy of Heirs’ that governs the Confederation as a whole, with the smaller states jostling and politicking for influence with one or other of them. In addition, although nominally supposed to act in unity for the greater good of the Confederation, they also constantly strive for dominance within the Tetrarchy. However, all are united by the struggle against a common enemy, in this case the Boletarian Commonwealth. The Tetrarchy normally operates from the magnificent floating city of Molideriu, but in practice can and has met in smaller, predominantly industrious towns when necessary.

Standing apart from the rest of the Confederation is one very special state – name, the name, home of and controlled by the religion. Although no longer an imperial capital, name’s immense significance means that all Alemenyans consider it to belong to them. While he has no official temporal power in the Confederation outside of name itself, the name has immense moral authority with all of the Confederation states, which he does not hesitate to exert when necessary.

HISTORY of the LAST CENTURY
Work in progress.

LANDMASS



POINT ALLOCATION
Work in progress.

Project Sigma. [Space ship / captain Roleplay] {Dead}

Natshuk T'Zakiel

NAME:
Natshuk T'Zakiel

AGE:
43

RACE:
Ansulian

BIOLOGY:
Possessing a physiology similar to that of amphibians, Ansulians are adept at both low light vision and swimming. Most
stand at an average of 1.8 meters, have either smooth green or brown skin, and large pink eyes with lids that are s seldom used. They're capable of breathing both in and out of water and face little difficult with functioning on land. Their most notable feature is likely their head-tresses, which grant them exceptional olfactory and pheromone-sensing skills. These tendrils are used to detect the emotional state of another being, and are most effective underwater. Within Ansulian culture, the ability to sense pheromone changes is an essential part of the communication process. All Ansulians have fourteen sensory tentacles and multiple hearts, which are capable of beating separately. Like their sense of smell, Nautolan language is also maximized for use underwater and not fully pronounceable in a gaseous atmosphere. Because of this loss in linguistic detail, most Ansulians rarely speak when traveling outside of their home-world. In addition, Ansulians often use communicative cues when submerged, such as reading the swirls in other Ansulians' large eyes.

Little is known about Ansulian culture, as few Ansulians leave their home planet due to its remote location. However, their music is often found amongst savvy music collectors, which is solely composed of sustained notes held in irregular patterns with occasional pauses. These pauses were considered the most important part of the music to the Ansulians, causing non-Ansulian listeners to misunderstand their artistic intent.

RANK:
Captain

SKILLS:
Swimming
Martial Arts
Strategy
Navigation
Above Average Intelligence

AWAY-MISSION EQUIPMENT:
TK-91 Resistance Suit
Made of a rubber-like material, the TK-91 provides protection against a wide range of toxic substances. The design consists of water-repelling scales that allow the wearer to swim easily, and has pebbled texture much like that of a golf balls in order to reduce drag. Electrofiber technology provids the suit with a wide range of built-in sensors. Referred to as "Smart Skin" in military R&D, data regarding damage to different regions of the body, including blood loss, can be exchanged between the suit and the user's intravenous nanomachines to create a feedback system. While it isn't bullet-proof, it does provide some ballistic protection to the wearer's body. The suit can also apply varying pressure to major internal organs to maximize performance and safeguard their functions.

MSTR-B8
A compact, usually accurate, bull-pup style submachine gun popular with the military thanks to its relatively small size, which is just above that of a standard-issue pistol. Fires three-round bursts, and can be pulsed for a higher rate of fire at the expense of accuracy, making it an appropriate weapon for close-quarters combat. However, it is somewhat weak against armored opponents.

APPEARENCE:
Traditional robed outfit common amongst Ansulian military officials.

PERSONALITY:
Work in progress.

QUICK BIO:
Natshuk T'Zakiel was born on the Ansulian home-world of Trek Gabsala to a family of farmers, many of whom would go on to become slaves to the Yumori following the planet's numerous invasions throughout the 2100s. After finishing school and working as a ship mechanic for nearly five years, he left Trek Gabsala for Earth in 2108, at the age of 25, where he hoped to become a general. Trained in the ways of the human military at the Galactic Academy for Our Perseverance, his distinctive head tentacles contained highly sensitive olfactory receptors that allowed him to detect pheromonal expressions of emotion and other changes in body chemistry. This was indeed a unique attribute not afforded to any other species of the Alliance, either naturally or through mechanical augmentations, which were quite popular with humans at that time. Eventually finishing his training and going on to act as head technician on a destroyer, T'Zakiel ascended to the rank of lieutenant. Not one to draw attention to himself, Natshuk studied the path of the commander, aspiring to become the Admiral of the Alliance in the future.

When the captain of the ship was murdered in 2117 by mutineers, Natshuk was promoted to commander and given command of the destroyer. While he did not know if he was ready for a ship of his own, Natshuk decided that leading such a large craft would certainly improving both his performance in future altercations and the chances of him getting one step closer to admiralty. Winning numerous battles, he was in no hurry to take another ship, preferring instead to remain with what he was comfortable with. However, another craft, a cruiser in fact, would be in the young man's near future. After a year of acting as commander of a destroyer, he was called back to Earth to accept his new rank. In 2191, Natshuk was promoted to captain and provided with an all-new cruiser, the GANS Orpheus.

Fel Roals

NAME:
Fel Roals

AGE:
48

RACE:
Human

RANK:
Lieutenant

SKILLS:
Strategy
Navigation
Marksmanship

AWAY-MISSION EQUIPMENT:
ADAM-08 Virtuous Suit
One of the earliest suits developed by the Alliance, the ADAM-08 first saw use back in the 2160s. A black prototype, resembling an astronaut suit, is the most common variant, though many other colors and configurations exist. It also contains a gray knee brace on the right knee. The suit is made of a special bulletproof fiber and provides effective heat and moisture insulation, reducing both injury and stamina loss for the wearer. Its camouflage also functions well within a variety of different environments.

M-84 Revision
The Revision is a semi-automatic hybrid weapon with an assault rifle's low heat production and a sniper rifle's punch. Though it does not have a sniper rifle's precision scope, marksmen favor its increased power over that of an assault rifle to bring down hardened targets. Its lack of a full-auto setting is advertised as a feature rather than a shortcoming since it curbs a soldier's tendency to spray inaccurate fire under stress.

APPEARENCE:
Standard-issue lieutenant's outfit of the Alliance.

PERSONALITY:
Work in progress.

QUICK BIO:
Fel Roals appeared to be like any other captain in the Alliance, piloting the destroyer GANS Protector with a small fleet under his command, including the famed cruiser GAMS Independence. However, all was not as it seemed. By 2114, he had begun to use his rank to his advantage, selling military weapons and equipment to any groups willing to pay. He also began to contemplate defecting to the growing Yumori threat provided he could get a suitably high price for his services. However, he was almost exposed when a leak allowed a fellow captain to learn of his potential treachery. Roals was aware that, if news of his deceit and possible defection were to get out, the Alliance's retribution would be swift and deadly, so he moved quickly against the opposing captain and had him murdered. An investigation into the captain's death was launched, but the investigators were unable to identify the culprit, and the cause of the man's death was officially declared to be a result of natural causes.

Shortly after an intense confrontation with a Yumori dreadnought, Roals had a secret rendezvous with leaders of the organization, and announced his intention to rebel, promising that his fleet would defect with him. However, the meeting turned out to be an ambush, which resulted in the capture of Roals and the destruction of his command. An Alliance squadron was quickly sent out to retake the imprisoned captain, and was, after numerous attempts, successful, returning him back to Earth in 2122. But, instead of receiving a commendation or whatever else he had expected, Roals was stripped of both his title and whatever fleet he was expecting, demoted to lieutenant, and assigned to serve on the GANS Orpheus.

GANS Orpheus

SHIP DESIGNATION:
GANS Orpheus

SHIP REGISTRY:
NS 8190

SHIP CLASS:
Battlecruiser/Carrier hybrid

SHIP SIZE:
900 meters long

SHIP CREW:
800 crewmen, can accommodate 1600 passengers

SHIP WEAPONS
Turbo-laser Cannons (16)
The turbo-laser is the immensely scaled up version of the blaster and laser cannon. These weapons are generally mounted on rotating turrets. Turbo-lasers are heavy laser cannons equipped with large banks of capacitors, allowing them to build up and store far more powerful energy bursts than standard cannons. These capacitors give huge energy bursts to the beam, greatly increasing its power over standard laser cannons. They also help power the galven coils in the barrels of turbolasers. First, a particle beam is generated in the manner standard of blasters and laser cannons. Then even more power is achieved by guiding this laser cannon particle-beam through another stream of energized gas besides the one used in generating the initial beam to increase its power. The extra capacitors in a turbo-laser that store huge amounts of raw energy then contribute to the beam by energizing it even further as it moves to the turbolaser's barrel. The resulting beam carries roughly three or more times the energy of a standard laser cannon beam.

It then passes through a set of galven coils located in the turbolaser's barrel, even further increasing the beam's power, and allowing it to pierce the defenses of heavily protected targets. Because these weapons require extra time to build up energy for their powerful blasts, they tended to have a slightly slower rate of fire than their weaker brethren (usually around one to two seconds between volleys, depending on the type of turbo-laser and what power setting it was on). The risk of overheating is high due to this massive energy buildup, and many turbolaser models are protected with complex cryosystems and a powerful cooling sleeve on the barrel. Turbo-lasers are the primary weapons of capital ships. They were used for ship-to-ship combat or, in some cases, planetary bombardment. A single blast from a turbolaser could completely incinerate a fully shielded starfighter; however, due to their slow turret traverse and an equally slow period of charging up and cooling down, using turbolasers against fighters proves to be highly ineffective because fighters are too fast and small for a good target lock due to a slower rate of fire than point-defense laser cannons.

Point-defense Laser Cannons (20)
A laser cannon is the standard weapon for use by most starships and other vehicles. It exists in a myriad of forms, from the huge versions used by starships, through medium-sized turret-mounted variants, to the much smaller personal cannons sometimes carried by infantry. Although they were capable of causing a considerable amount of damage, they were no match to some of the more advanced beam weapons such as electromagnetic plasma cannons, turbo-lasers and super-lasers. Though based on the same principles, with their beams having a nearly identical nature, laser cannons are more powerful than similarly-sized blasters. Laser cannons were originally used by starships to blast debris, such as asteroids, out of their way. These cannons are both incredibly destructive and very accurate.

Heavy Ion Cannons (8)
An ion cannon is a weapon which fires highly ionized particles or highly ionized plasma. Ion cannons fire particles that seriously interfere with the operation of electronics and computer systems, shorting circuits and often disabling them outright, in much the same manner as an electromagnetic pulse. The actual physical damage sometimes results in fused joints on machines, due to the heat produced. Large negative-ion pulses are charged in a turbine generator then channeled into a plasma charge or released as a large pulse towards a target. As a result, ion cannons are the weapon of choice for subduing, rather than destroying, enemy starships, vehicles, shields, or droids. The ion cannon is not without its weaknesses, however. For instance, they aren't known for tight-beam accuracy, to the point that a ground-based ion cannon might hit the defender's own battle stations as well as its intended targets. Moreover, on capital ships, there are crewmen that can repair any damage done, which allows the vessel to continue fighting.

Tractor Beam Projectors (12)
A tractor beam is a projected force-field used by spaceports, planetary bases, space stations, and starships to effectively grasp and guide vessels to a safe designated landing. They can also be used to forcibly capture enemy ships. The most common use for a tractor beam is to help guide spacecraft into a safe landing at spaceports and docking bays, as well as to aid with the loading and unloading of cargo. Some ships also have personnel retrieval tractor beams enabling them to rescue extravehicular personnel. Warships boast powerful military-grade tractor beam projectors that can capture enemy ships. These high-powered force-fields can overpower their quarry's engines at times, to be maneuvered into a hangar or to hold them in position for boarding. A tractor beam relies upon the inertia of the craft it is based upon as compared to the craft being affected. Ships with high inertia, typically meaning high mass, can affect smaller vessels with little strain on their own propulsion. Capital ships can tractor small freighters, for example, but if a freighter attempts to tractor a capital ship, it would actually affect the smaller freighter's trajectory. For two ships of roughly equal size, the attraction is equal, but can be affected by the relative speeds of the two vessels.

TECHNOLOGY:
Work in progress.

SHIP APPEARANCE:



OTHER:
Has a single hangar located on either sides of the ship, each capable of holding up to four interceptors or similarly-sized ships (fighter-bombers, bombers, etc.) Everything else on-board is standard-issue. Let me know if you want to add some more info as to what this means.

Shuttles 1-8

SHIPS' DESIGNATIONS
GANS Delta 21-01987B, Delta 22-01987B, Delta 44-01987B, Delta 50-01987B, Delta 51-01987B, Delta 52-01987B, Delta 52-01987B, Delta 98-01987B

SHIPS' CLASS:
Interceptor

SHIPS' CREWS:
1 pilot per ship.

SHIPS' WEAPONS:
Laser Cannons (2)
Light Ion Cannons (2)

OTHER:
Everything else on-board is standard-issue. Let me know if you want to add some more info as to what this means.

SHIP APPEARENCE:

Barracks

The Ansulian divison of the Galactic Alliance Army has little to offer in terms of manpower, and as such is largely dependent on and supplemented by the gregarious hordes of human troops offered by the organization.
As the early Ansulian/Alliance armies consisted of local militias with no true command in place, its generals often received its orders straight from the Alliance Defense Ministry and there was no single surface marshal that coordinated or directed its operations. This practice has since left individual army units being ultimately under the control of the Ansulian Navy and led to many soldiers being stationed more on their starships than on planetary surfaces. This meant that in wartime scenarios, the members of the Ansulian/Alliance Armies tended to be in transit aboard starships rather than stationed on planets.

Within the Army, there is a clear distinction between combat troops and support as well as command elements. As such, only the actual soldiers appear on the battlefield and engage the enemy while the command as well as support personnel remained far removed from the actual combat. This meant that it is very rare to see an individual with the rank of lieutenant being present in actual blaster combat. During the era of the war against the Yumori, it was officially believed that there was no rank of lieutenant, captain or colonel present within the Army in order to prevent any confusion with the Naval positions.

Ansulian/Alliance soldiers are decently equipped and supported by several kinds of aerial vehicles. They bear both grenades and blasters. Following the chaos of the Yumori uprising, a deliberate decision to reintroduce melee weapons was made. As such, swords are now standard issue, and full-body armor is worn and noted for its modular nature. One characteristic of the Ansulian/Alliance military is its equipping of its personnel with an array of cybernetic implants and head-wear. Some of these were deliberately designed to provide mental protection against the powers of Ansulian opponents.

Another trait is its use of speciality equipment, such as the stealth field generator, and also physical enhancement technology. These are non-combat items and saw considerable research and development as a result of the Aliiance's use. As of the Yumori attacks, personal shield generators are used. Some models are purchased and some are manufactured directly for the Ansulians. However, the cost of these devices wis such that only small units can be assured of a continual supply. Strike teams favor them as they enable them to outfight an entire unit with conventional gear. The Alliance/Ansulian Army also makes use of defensive devices such as turrets and a variety of land mines. This latter item ranges from fragmentation to plasma to toxin though the first is used more commonly due to how expensive deadly toxins were.

The most basic non-specialized trooper in the Ansulian/Alliance Army is the Alliance Trooper, who typically wears full, heavy, body armor and is armed with a semi-automatic, medium-range blaster rifle. The heart of the Ansulian/Alliance army, these soldiers are organized in squads who are kept in close quarters to the point that they consider themselves all friends. Commanders often keep these individuals together to encourage camaraderie and improve the units performance. However, growing logistical problems have led to the Army not recognizing the special skills of individuals troopers and not assigning them to squads that would benefit from their abilities.

The field commanders known as Alliance Officers often hold the rank of sergeant or corporal and were often trained by the local militia's mercenary groups before they joined the Ansulian/Alliance army. This makes them the brightest as well as the best officers available. During the time of the Yumori uprising, these officers were given extensive training in the use of swords after it was recognized that vibro-blade wielding Yumori often targeted these soldiers in order to eliminate their leadership of their units.

Work in progress...

The Sands of Blood (Dead)

Barrats reached for his bow but in two strides the thief reached him, swiping his blade in a wide arc that opened the high-blood's neck, slicing the weapon in half and shortening his headdress with one cut. There was a soft clatter as Barrat's bow dropped to the ground, followed by a thump as his body joined it. He twitched and gurgled, his blood blotted by the sand. Without taking his eyes from Fel and Roals, who bleeding profusely now, limping, and out of breath, the attacker dropped to one knee and drove his blade into him, silencing him.

Aeon: The Blackened Wardens of Aetherium-DED

Is reusing a race from a previous RP frowned upon?

The Sands of Blood (Dead)

The bushes rustled with birds. The slope of the ravine, ending in an emerald green expanse of water, was overgrown, a dense mass of tamarix and acacias, a perfect place to nest and prey. No wonder, then, that they were full of birds. Stubborn larks, doves, and storks chirping, every sound resonated, every moment the sonorous wail of a crow. Buzzards warning of rain, though Barrats, instinctively glancing towards the sky. There were no clouds. But the crows were calling. They could use a little rain at last. The place in front of the ravine was an excellent post, giving potential for a successful hunt, especially here in the desert, a wild stretch full of beasts. The few traders who occasionally strolled past rarely hunted, and men even more rarely dared to venture here. Here, an avid hunter of meat or hides itself became the object of hunting. The creatures here, thirsty for any liquid wether it be water or blood, had no mercy for intruders. The trio had experienced this first hand.

In any case, animals were not lacking near this oasis. However, Barrats, Fel, and Roals had laid in ambush for nearly all of noon and still they had not spent a single arrow. They could not hunt on your feet here – a drought had prevailed for several months leaving the leaves crisp underfoot, dry branches creaked with every step, despite the presence of the lake. Under such conditions, only stillness in the ambush could lead to eventual success and reward. A mosquito delicately landed itself on the neck of Barrats's bow. Unflinching, he watched it as it folded and unfolded its wings, looking simultaneously at his bow, a new acquisition, which he had still not ceased to find pleasure in. Although he was a beloved writer and up-and-coming statesman by trade, he loved a good weapon, and that weapon which he held was the best of the best in such dire times.

* * * * *

From a mound of brush, a twig snapped. The birds launched their furious noise. The larks and storks broke into flight, their tail feathers flashing white. Barrats gasped. Finally. A crow squealed. Again, a twig snapped. He adjusted the worn-to-a-shine leather protector on his left forearm, held together with a bunch of grips attached to a loop. He plunged a hand into the quiver on his thigh. Instinctively, out of habit he inspected the blade tip and fletching. The blades, along with the bow itself, were a result of their latest experience with bandits – he choose on average just one out of ten offered to him - but he always feathered the arrows himself. With most commercially available ready-made arrows, the feathers were too short and arranged directly over the pole, while Barrats applied his to find in a spiral, lying no shorter than five inches.

He readied an arrow onto the string of the bow and looked out over the ravine inbetween a patch of verdant palm trunks with clusters of dates which stood out from the rest of the trees. The larks flew not far away, resuming their song.
Come on, little deer, she thought, lifting and stretching the bow. Come on. I'm ready.
But the antelope moved away from the ravine, towards the marshy springs flowing into the water. The young antelope rose from the valley. A beautiful beast. At a glance it could weigh forty pounds. He raised his head, pricked up his ears, then turned to the brush and crunched a few leaves.

It was easier to shoot it from behind. If it weren't for the trunk covering his target Barrats would have fired without hesitation. Upon hitting the thigh, it would sever the artery, and the animal would fall soon after. He waited, not releasing the chord.
The deer again raised its head, took a step, went behind the trunk – advancing slightly. Barrats, maintaining the bow at full stretch, cursed silently. A shot from the front might fail: instead of planting in the lung, the tip could pierce the stomach. He waited, holding his breath, feeling the salty taste of the chord at the corners of his lips. This was one, almost inestimable advantage of his bow - a heavier weapon or one less perfect, he could not have held for so long in suspense, without the risk of hand fatigue and poor accuracy in his shot.

Fortunately, the deer lowered his head, nibbling a few blades of grass that sprang from the moss, turning sideways. Barrats breathed calmly, aimed for the chest, and gently released the bowstring with his fingers. But he did not hear the snap that was expected of the ribs pierced by the arrow. The deer jumped up, kicked and disappeared to the sound of dry branches and trampled leaves. For a few heartbeats Barrats stood motionless, like a marble statue of a petrified goddess in the forest. Only when all the noises had subsided, he removed his right hand from his left cheek, lowering the bow. Noting the escape route of the animal in the corner of his memory, he sat quietly, propping his back against the trunk. He was an experienced hunter, he had trotted in from the woods since childhood, having shot his first deer at eleven, and a fourteen-horns stag - an extremely happy hunting omen - on his fourteenth birthday.

But experience had taught him that pursuit of a wounded animal was pointless. If he had hit well, the deer would had fallen no more than two hundred paces from the escape route. If he had hit badly - in fact he could not rule out such a possibility - rushing could only make matters worse. After a flight in panic, a badly injured animal, undisturbed will slow its pace. A hunted animal will race at breakneck speed and not slow down for quite some time. He had half an hour at least. He stuck between her teeth a blade of grass he had pulled from the ground and returned to the makeshift encampment his compatriots had organized at the end of the slope.

* * * * *

The two of them said nothing, just watched as Barrats dismounted, then led his horse to the water and retrieved the leather bucket so that he could drink. For a moment or so the only sound was the soft bump of the bucket on an underwater rock as the liquid was fetched, then the slurping as the horse drank. Barrats drank too. He sipped then gulped, wetting the sizable beard he'd acquired from the two week journey and wiping his face. He filled his flasks and took water to the two other horses, making sure to tether them both. When he looked at the duo they were curled up asleep, their heads on their packs, robes wrapped around them, hoods pulled up and arms resting on their provisional pillows. Barrats took a blanket from his own pack, found a spot on the other side of the lake, and laid down to sleep, intending to wake up in time to find his target again.

The Sands of Blood (Dead)

I am wondering though where Blink_ is going with his character... I hope he is not trying to build a story on top of my story.

@EWillden

I plan on having Barrats run into the group outside Fahran. For reference, he's still two days away if he follows the same route as envisioned by the Mage.

The Sands of Blood (Dead)

They soon came upon their objective, nestled in the back of a boudoir that stank of ale and sex and was seemingly full of people: scantily clad elven women who grabbed clothes and ran screaming, and several thieves arming themselves with bottles and brooms. A boot smacked into the wood of the doorway besides Barrats's head and the trio took cover as another man, this one naked, raised a throwing knife. Fel returned fire around the frame of the door, and the naked man crashed to the carpet with an untidy red hole and arrow at his chest, grabbing a fistful of bedclothes as he went. Another shoe gouged the frame, and they once again ducked back. Roals drew his sword as two more bandits came hurtling down the corridor towards them, Fel joining in.

"Lay down your weapons," called one of the remaining outlaws from inside the room, "and I'll consider letting you live."

"I make you the same offer," Barrats said from behind the door. "We have no quarrel; I only wish to return that map of yours to its rightful owner."

There was a sneer in his voice. "Nothing rightful about your red-eyed kind."

"I won't ask again."

"Agreed."

He heard a movement nearby and flitted across the doorway. The other man had been trying to creep up on them, but Barrats sent a strike from his sword between his eyes and he flopped to the floor, his weapon, a board of wood, skittering away from him. The remaining bandit threw yet another article of footwear, this time a slipper, and made a dive for his companion's plank, but Barrats had already drawn back his sword and anticipated his move, slicing the top of his head off as he stretched for it. Like a wounded animal he jackknifed back tot he bed, landing in a wet mess of blood and bedclothes and staring up at Barrats as he entered cautiously, sword at the ready. The men exchanged baleful looks. This wasn't how they'd planned for their nights to end.

"Your kind has no need for maps, especially for those of a religious site," Barrats said, indicating the naked man's chest wound. "Who put you up to this?"

"Didn't go looking to make trouble with it," he wheezed, shaking his head. "Just so happened to come upon it during a job."

Throughout his time in the military, Barrats had met a plethora of men like the bandit who would do anything, it seemed - anything for a bit of coin. It was men like him who had invaded his village and ransacked his home. Men like him who set him on the path he walks today. Just so happened to come upon it during a job. Somehow, through a veil of disgust, he managed to resist the urge to kill him.

"Well, those days are done. Tell your masters I said as much."

He raised himself slightly, perhaps realizing he planned to let him life. "Who do I say you are?"

"You don't. They'll know," he said. And let him go.

Roals began grabbing more loot while Fel took hold of the map, and they made their way out of the compound. Retreating was easier, most of the bandits having decided that dissection was the better part of valor and staying out of their way, and they made it outside to their horses and galloped away.

The Sands of Blood (Dead)

The informant dropped to his knees then keeled over to one side, part of his skull missing from the strength of the sword's blow, and Barrats's gaze went straight to the compound entrance to see if the man's squeal had been heard.

No, was the answer. Instead, the rabble at the gate had turned their attention on Fels and his ten-man command, drawn their spears and bows and began to shout at them: "Clear off!"

Barrats's men loitered, just as he'd told them. He could see their hands itching to draw their own weapons, but they bided their time. Good men, waiting for me to take the first shot.

The time was now. He drew a bead on one of the men, whom he'd took for the ringleader. He freed the arrow, heard a scream, and saw blood spray from the back of the target's neck before he lurched back, motionless. This time, someone's agony was heard, but it didn't matter: at the same moment, the rest of the expedition drew their blades and struck, a sizable portion of the bandits keeled over with blood fountaining from their head wounds. The gate was in disarray and the battle began in earnest. Barrats managed to pick off two more of the outlaws before abandoning his bow, drawing his sword and running forward, leaping into the fray with an endurance reserved only for the most adept of combatants. He enjoyed fighting with his companions, and felled three of the thugs, who died screaming even as their compatriots made for the gates and barricaded themselves inside.

In no time at all, the only men left standing were Barrats, Fel, and Roals, all three of them breathing hard and flicking the blood from their steel. Although the men assigned to them were considered to be Hochschule's finest, they were no match for such a sizable array of opponents and instead laid beside their leaders, either writhing in pain or spewing blood from their wounds. Barrats regarded Roals with a new respect: he'd acquitted himself well, with a speed and skill that bellied his interracial looks. Fel, too, was looking at him, though with rather more distaste, as though the boy's proficiency in battle had annoyed him. Now they had a new problem, though: they'd taken the outside of the compound, but the door had been blocked by those retreating in. It was Roals who suggested we light it on fire - another good idea from the man Barrats had previously dismissed as a drunk - so he did, finding a nearby torch and making sure to avoid damaging the sandstone frame.

They promptly poured in through the hole in the wall, stepping over the torn and ragged corpses littering the hallway on the other side. Thick, deep carpets and rugs were on the floor, while exquisite tapestries had been hung at the windows. The whole place was in semi-darkness. There was screaming, male and female, and running feet as they made their way through quickly, slaying any man in the way. Roals had looted a candlestick, and he used it to cave in the head of a half-orc, wiping brains and blood from his face just as Fel reminded them why they were there: to gain insight into the location of the Fahran. He went on to describe the city as the trio raced along more gloomy corridors, finding less resistance now. Either the bandits were staying clear of them or were marshaling themselves into a more cohesive force. Not that it mattered what they were doing: they needed to find something along the lines of a map.

The Sands of Blood (Dead)

Outside the city, an abandoned orchard waved in a light evening breeze, the cider-tart odor of spoiled citrus radiating into the muggy desert air surrounding the once treasured assembly of trees. Not far away was the high fencing of a compound that belonged to bandits, and from inside came the sound of raucous festivities. Why not? Barrats thought. Every day you've avoided death by the hangman's noose or on the end of a guardsman's sword is a cause for celebration when you've lived the life of a bandit.

At the gates there were various outlaws and hanger-ons milling around, some of them drinking, some attempting to stand guard, and all of them in a constant state of argument. To the left of the compound, the orchard rose to a small parched hill peak and on it sat a lookout tending to a small fire. Sitting tending a fire isn't the quite the desired position for a lookout, but, otherwise, he was one of the few on this side of the compound who seemed to be taking his job seriously. Certainly, they'd failed to post any scouting parties. Or if they had, then the scouting parties were lounging under a palm somewhere, blind drunk, because there was no one to see Barrats and the dozen or so men appointed to him as they crept closer, approaching a man, who was crouching behind a crumbling sandstone wall, keeping watch on the compound.

Barrats and his aide, Fel, rode a little ahead, side by side, as was their preference, happy to be with one another and pleased to be within sight of what might be another opportunity to restock their provisions and gain some insight into their destination, each undulating with the slow, steady rhythm of their horses. Both rode high and proud in the saddle despite the long, arduous journey. They might have been advancing in years – both were nearing what was considered middle age to the high-bloods – but it would not do to be seen slouching. Nevertheless they came slowly: their mounts were chosen for their strength and stamina, not speed, and tethered to each was an ass, laden with supplies.

Behind them came Roal, who had inherited the bright, dancing eyes of his mother, his father Fel's colouring and bone structure, and the impulsiveness of both. He would have liked to gallop ahead and climb the slopes of the nearby dunes to the compound to announce the impending attack,but instead trotted meekly behind, respecting his both father's and supervisor's wishes for a modest approach. Every now and then he swatted the flies from his face with his crop and thought that a gallop would have been the most effective way to rid himself of them.

As the group neared their target, Barrats got a better look at him. A round-faced elf, a little shabby, and probably too fond of the grog himself, if Fel's guess was correct. This was the man who, according to their contacts at Zaphere, was good at loosening tongues, though he'd looked like he'd have problems loosening his own drawers.