Epsir

Between the Elms

The market of Geltreis teemed with humanity. As morning stretched into the afternoon, the centerpiece of the city came to be occupied not only by its live-in army of workers and managers but also by the swarms of travelers that came to the mountain pass for business or pleasure. No matter what gate of the city they came in through, they all seemed to find their way to its market. Ringed by taverns and inns, it was an excellent place to stop and that was by no coincidence. Foreigners were a difficult mark in Geltreis, the riders and walkers alike all came differently wrapped but they were sure to find themselves at home amongst the similarly dissimilar locals. For the moment, the only way to tell the two classes apart was that one was primary still riding into town. Carriages came and went from the market all day long, carrying newcomers and returning patrons from the countryside. East and west didn't matter, for just a moment, at street level, Arcarti citizens and those with enough money to travel from the west came to the city for their first taste of travel. None to exotic to either culture, it did sit on the border, and to many of them it was still a suitable journey.

The sky was clear for the day, a rare and unspeakably welcomed sight to the snow blanketed city. It was only getting to be midday, and already the snow glistened with signs of melt. It was a good temperature for a walk, and that opportunity had even the most sedentary rich locals up and about, adding the colors of their regalia to to the crowds. The only blemish on the weather was a low, steady wind from the east. It promised storms from the shore, the ever present rains over Arcartus' capital and coast that occasionally blew inland to pelt the rest of the region. It was never known for certainty when they would arrive, the encroaching lines of clouds could scarcely be observed from within the mountains. Eventually, however, the rainstorms would climb the mountains to smother Geltreis in snow. While the going was good, however, the city would bustle as much as any trade port.

While it was bustling, she wanted to make her move. Karcine Beffelet was one of the many faces amongst the crowd. She had spent a few hours in the market, cruising inconspicuously through the stalls in her coat and studying the people she could find in the middle of town. Her own footfalls were indistinct from the milling bodies around her, her own thoughts nearly lost in the noise of gathered people. The conversations were colorful, a mixed racket of haggling and greeting in too many accents. It would be too difficult to be picked from the crowd, or so she consoled herself. Meanwhile, she tried to pick people out from the crowd. Her eyes swept back and forth, a scythe for commoners as she hoped to find someone with the distinctive look of a mercenary amongst the bounty of the market. She had been at it for too long, even if the day was still young. The feeling of going nowhere was just as tiresome as the feelings brought on by walking everywhere the marketplace had to offer. She had other reasons to give up her quest, more and more it seemed that the city guard was in her peripheral vision. She wasn't so deluded as to believe they cared or were looking, but it wouldn't do to take the chance. More likely, they were making their daily rounds now that the business day was well underway. Wherever she saw them, the muted blue of their uniforms seemed to pop from within the crowds. It may have just been the fear attributed to their colors. It always only a glimpse, and then she was jostled and bumped around in the tide of people to start searching again. The crowd provided safety, but it was also constricting. A person could only suffer under so many elbows before the masses became stifling and Karcine sought an end to her confinement.

With a few gentle elbow prods of her own, and some softly spoken apologies, she broke free to the edge of the crowd. The storefronts and inns that surrounded the marketplace faced her, spaced by the busy roadway occupied by parked carriages. People were less densely packed here, peacefully occupying tables and benches while the more energetic were already participating in the melee behind her. Joining the people enjoying their morning tea and the paper was a tempting proposition, but she turned her back on it. Looking back into the crowd, she could see even less than before. She decided to walk alongside the street, circling the marketplace for one last glimpse over not the people, but the carriages they had come in. The symbols adorning them were sometimes familiar to her, companies that ferried people across the heartlands or simply those that trusted their business with a merchant based in Geltreis. It stood to her logic at least that if there was a group come to town that she had an interest in pursuing, she could start at a much more easily located asset of theirs. Like a carriage bearing their emblem. The green clad woman slowly made her orbit, walking just beyond the bounds of the crowd and displaying a peculiar affinity for the vehicles lining the roadways.

Between the Elms

Suppose I'll bump the thread just once seeing as we're going along kind of slow. We have a few players, and if people come we'll continue to accept bios even as we move, so I figure it's worth asking. If everyone is ready, would you guys like to start off the thread?

Between the Elms

Overview

Between the Elms is a multi party thread set in a trade city named Geltreis. After the city's peaceful integration into the neighboring country of Arcartus, secret wars have taken its streets. The merchants that ran the city always held feuds between themselves, but as merchants their methods of dealing with each other were bloodless if not always civil. Under the Arcarti government, their conduct as lawmakers has lead to violence and discrimination. Your character belongs to any of a number of blocs within the city, as even simple sentiments like pro- and anti-Arcarti have fragmented into varying levels of severity as Geltreis seethes for change. Organized crime will play a prominent role in the thread, as both sides compete through what are essentially their private armies.

The thread will always remain open for new applicants, as the nature of the plot can cope with large or small amounts of characters. I don't know if freeform is the right word for something so centralized, but you're encouraged to introduce and explore your own subplots. The thread is live and accepting at the moment, so a link will follow. If you have a question or an idea you wish to run by me, feel free to drop it here, in the OOC, or just PM me directly!

Between the Elms

The city of Geltreis was once a nameless little settlement hidden away amidst impassable and barren mountains. It began as a wayfarer's station, sheltering those braving the pass, and slowly grew as would be travelers found themselves settling there. The people of Geltreis drew what they could from the environment, and sold mountain lumber for what they could not. With little other claim to fame or fortune, it sat along one of the only routes through the continent of Estovet's harsh central mountains. Merchants had to stop there, and so they soon began to ply their trade there. Traders from either side of the mountains came to Geltreis to exchange with their peers, saving both the time it took to cross the continent. It grew into one of the most successful city states on Estovet, lead to greatness by a council of its wealthiest families. They transformed it from a necessary stop along the way that merely happened to enjoy the benefits of its position into a grand junction between the eastern and western halves of the continent. The mountain city built high walls around it and an imposing tower at its center to ward away the bandits and nations with an untoward interest in its wealth, threats that never diminished over the hundreds of years of independence the city enjoyed. As it was nestled between two mountains, it was nestled between two growing political giants. The empire of Arcartus stood to the east, a young nation of unparalleled military might that had sought to and succeeded in uniting the eastern seaboard. To the west, the hundreds of warring kingdoms that competed and squabbled for the entirety of Estovet's northwest. Divided perpetually in their own ancient conflicts, they were at least united in warding away the influence and interest of the rest of the world. Many of Geltreis' elite came from the numberless countries in the northwest, and shared their love for independence and tradition. The rule of the merchants had become 'the old way' over the years, it was something to be preserved as the champion of past progress and the force that would guarantee prosperity in the future. Standing alone had become ponderous, tariffs and taxes caused the city to suffer as a result of the larger world's economic rivalries. Money had become the issue, and regardless of political allegiance the merchant kings of Geltreis had a very clearly defined bottom line.

The choice was made by the majority anyway. Geltreis was driven by its common folk into integration with Arcartus, with the handful of Arcarti sympathizers among the nobility leading the way as chosen envoys. The decision was prompted by a change in the Arcarti government some years before, with the resignation of the empire's royal family and the establishment of a national senate called the House of Affairs. Those who had supported the decision found themselves sent as representatives to the House of Affairs, and those who had vied for allegiance with the myriad northwest were penalized under the new rule. For hundreds of years the noble families of Geltreis had competed on a purely economic basis, their rivalries were bitter but their intensity had been constrained by the nature of their occupation. When they took their personal feuds into representative government, they were relentless, and those given the upper hand acted without mercy. Hundreds were forced from their occupations, and entire families were wiped away by poverty and repression as the new governors of Geltreis legislated against them under the guise of majority rule. It did not take long for the populace to become aware of these practices, and no sooner than the pro-Arcarti families were chosen as the people's voices they were just as resented as the westerners had been. For the actions of a few Geltreisians, Arcarti rule became synonymous with tyranny and discrimination in the city. For the part of Arcartus, little intervention ever came from the capital, and the wound upon their relationship with the city was allowed to fester.

Seventy years passed and Geltreis' position in the world remained much the same. Its value as a trade nexus only grew, but the bitterness of the dethroned only fermented into a seething hatred of Arcarti rule. By the year 1153, several incidents of violence had occurred in Geltreis, often assaults against the city's politicians and even a few altercations with members of the Arcarti military sent to garrison Castle Geltreis. A skeleton crew of a few dozen rangers allotted to mind the pass and maintain the aging castle, they lacked influence and the policing of the region was left to the locals. Owing to their policy of remaining on castle grounds and the caustic welcome Geltreis provided to the Arcarti military, the locals took to calling the castle as the Geltreis Hermitage. Geltreis, in accordance with Arcarti law, was free to establish their own militia for the defense of their city and surrounding territory. A few years prior, a man named Martin Tolbert had been sent to the House of Affairs to represent Geltreis' affairs in the empire, and it was the Tolbert family and those loyal to it that represented wealth and power in the city for the time being. As a public service, Tolbert money paid much of the city militia's expenses, and it was a public secret that many among their ranks served the private interests of the Tolberts and their allied families. Their private interests were, of course, the suppression of their competitors. The Beffelet family, among many others, had stayed to struggle through the new era, and as a collective the western families were wealthy enough to defend themselves from the underhanded methods of the new elite. With the only uninvolved Arcartis locked away in Castle Geltreis, the families' rivalry quickly escalated into clandestine warfare. No longer containable in legislature and business practices, their fighting spilled into the back alleys and empty streets. Sellswords and unscrupulous adventurers were drawn to the city by rumors of the conflict and lavish pay offered by old, wealthy families in need of hired muscle. On both sides of the law, Geltreis had become run by organized crime with any attempts at inquiry by the Arcarti government staved off by those governing the city.

The year is 1156, and the families of Geltreis are still free to rage against each other away from the public eye. With each scuffle and stabbing in the city streets they come closer to open conflict. The elite in control of the city savor the security of Arcarti rule, and use their position to remain in power and erase the influence of those who opposed them decades ago. The western families that remain seek the independence of the city, which in their eyes can only come from open rebellion against the tyrants Arcartus has allowed to befoul their once-country. The people of Geltreis, caught between, suffer the affronts of both but have come to resent Arcarti rule all the same for the harm it has done to them and their way of life. The time for an end has come to the feud, each side fears that the Arcarti government will come to dismantle the plutocracy and assume full control of what has become a problematic area, and knows that there will be little warning when it happens. There are rumors of organized rebellion brewing within the city, and those interested in supporting the cause of Geltreisian independence are seeking to band together where they may. Opposing this, the Geltreis militia has been expanded greatly in the past few months. A man named Henry Rosier, a section leader within, has sworn to stamp out organized crime within the city and developed a reputation with the populace for his heavy handed methods. With his authority and apparent backing from above, he seeks volunteers to join the militia's hunt. Those who know of the man claim he is little more than a professional soldier placed at the head of the Tolbert's attack dogs. The reclusive Beffelets have all but disappeared from the public eye, but whispers say the gangs and syndicates are beginning to gather armaments in preparation to retaliate. Both sides are searching desperately for outsiders to fill their ranks, they have become disjointed and segregated into factions even among themselves. All claim to seek justice, and all the city needs is one group bold or stupid enough to begin the end of its story.

Between the Elms

@MZambos
@Sightles

Both of you are accepted, welcome to the thread! The same goes for everyone, if you want to make an introductory post you're more than welcome to. We certainly have a range of characters now.

@ravenDivinity

I'll be happy to read them, then, thank you for your interest. You're right about the interest check, I'd been kind of holding on to because we went up late yesterday but I believe I'll cook one up today.

Between the Elms

@DrowsyPangolin

Accepted! Welcome to the thread. You're free to make your introduction now if you wish but ideally we'll have a few more people in the thread before things get running.

Between the Elms

Please feel free to drop applications here or in the OOC.

Character Sheet

Name:
Age:
Gender:

Appearance:

Clothing/Armor:

Weapons/Belongings:

Personality:

History:

Feel free to amend this format as you see fit to establish your character better.

NPC Booklet:

Significant NPCs will receive character sheets here for convenience when they are encountered or mentioned.

Karcine Beffelet

Name: Karcine Maye Beffelet
Age: 22
Gender: Female

Appearance: Karcine stands 170cm (~5'7") tall, with a smallish figure that leaves her with very little presence wherever she may be. For a woman with such a faint appearance, she is deceptively fit. Without much bulk, her body has the tone of a more active and decidedly less pampered individual. Her skin tone is far more typical for an heiress to a wealthy family, and she sports a snowy, pale coloration. The little physical training she has is necessary, as she remains a sensitive body prone to breaks and bruises. She has a youthful face shaped by a frail jaw, with a little red-lipped mouth that tends to smile in a peaceful, relaxed way. Karcine has rosy, full cheeks and a narrow, regal nose. Her eyes are well spaced, large themselves and have a soft sided, round look. They have a certain sleepiness to them that never leaves their green depths, and her perpetually demure expression only adds to the aura of serenity her features carry. Her hair is coarse, giving the impression of fluff and volume despite her attempts to control it. It is an exceedingly light blonde, with whitish tones reminiscent of the snow that covers her homeland and only a faint indication of a pale yellow color. She has long hair, tamed only in the front where she combs her long forelocks to her right. Besides, it flows down over the sides of her head to rest upon her shoulders, and slightly further behind on her back. Owing to its texture, has a considerable wave and cut any shorter would begin to curl.

Clothing: Karcine dresses very simply for her means, though often with great consideration for purpose over any real love for fashion. She wears a comfortable sweater, made thickly out of soft cotton. Its cable knitting traps heat comfortably under its close fit, and blends into the vertical ribbing the holds together its cuffs and hem. It has a long, clinging turtleneck collar that folds over upon itself for a warm, supportive neck. The garment is a pure white in color, a vulnerability that has seen to Karcine owning many iterations of her favored top over the years. She favors a plain, airy fitting skirt cut at knee length. It has a lace frill hem that serves as the skrit's decoration. colored white. The rest of the skirt is black, with a plaid pattern of varying light gray tones woven in. It has a high waist, held in place by a cloth belt within the skirt, that Karcine wears tucked underneath her shirt. On her feet she wears a pair of dressy brown loafers, round toed and shiny. They are long tongued, reaching almost to the ankle, and the ankle itself is held by a decorative strap. By no means durable, the smooth bodied dress shoes comprise the only footwear she possesses. To ward away the cold, she wears an ankle length coat. For an overgarment, it is made very simple, with a trio of buttons towards the top of the wearer's chest to fasten and few defining features. It is akin to a cloak given sleeves, with a high, folded collar and a loose, flowing hem to allow the owner's legs free movement. Its sleeves end in large, buttoned cuffs that hang droopily around Karcine's wrists. The entire thing is colored a passively bluish tone of bottle green.

Weapons/Belongings: Karcine is experienced with a variety of weapons used in hunting, professing an affinity for large knives but no particular talent in any one area. Most of the weapons she has encountered in life have come from her father's collection, and she herself owns very little in general. Specific and exclusive to her use is a hunting knife she favored the use of and has maintained since youth. It is approximately 30cm (~1') in length tip to pommel, with 22cm of that length being its blade. The blade resembles a long kitchen knife, though slightly shorter across the blade. This is because after a short length of thick, full backing for rigidity the spine slims into a blade. The front however, holds a sharpened cutting edge for its entire length, with a slight overhang over the tang. The front gradually curves back towards the point, with the narrowed back edge of the weapon ensuring that the majority of its slender length can easily pierce animal hide. It is guardless, with only a tiny metal hook that covers the top of the wielder's index finger jutting from the front of the grip. The knife has a full tang, appearing on the front and back of the rectangular hilt through a decorative gap in the black wooden exterior. It is a simple weapon, but possesses an air of quality nonetheless. This is for good reason, as it owes its existence to one of Geltreis' finest blacksmiths. It has been the end of many classes of wildlife in its existence, but has allowed nothing to wear upon its pristine surface. It is kept in an equally immaculate leather sheath when not in use, that she is known to keep tied within her coats at times.

Personality: Karcine is a proper lady, or at least, she tries to be. Her dedication is to appearances, because she has always been dissatisfied with her own. She tailors her demeanor to others like a practiced member of the social elite. For that reason, she can come across as a very positive and outgoing individual. Under most circumstances, Karcine legitimately is happy. She makes her family her most public concern, a diligent heiress with seemingly endless concern for the future of the Beffelet name. She has never been quite content with herself, and with her poor self image she feels uncomfortable in the spotlight. She would much rather put the family at large in a position to be appreciated, and maintain her own personal status quo. While attacks on herself pass Karcine by without drawing much of a reaction, she responds decisively and always with refinement to smears against the Beffelets. She meets attention with deflection, always hesitant to accept praise. Friendship and romance don't have much sway over her, she considers either concept attractive but is so acclimated to the atmosphere of high society that her typical encounter with either is only in bouts of pretend. Control brings her the most pleasure in life, and she was only ever able to exert control in two places for most of her youth. Guiding and bolstering the devastated Beffelet reputation was one of them, and the other was during the hunt. Overcoming the wiles of others gives her enjoyment and something to feel proud of. Outside of her two domains, her dissatisfaction with the world begins to take hold, but she does well to keep herself going. As she considers all great ladies, she is a fighter at heart, but she competes only to win.

History: The Beffelet family was one of the great families of the city of Geltries for many years. They came to power with Geltreis' conversion into a trade city, and they themselves came from faraway lands in the west. After quickly adjusting to their new host culture, the Beffelets found themselves to be of considerable wealth. Like many wealthy families at the time, they became engrained in the politics of the city, influencing the government and entangling themselves in conflicts with the other rising merchant powers. At the time, they were merely conflicts on business terms. Geltreis, a secluded city state, always stood at the mercy of its neighbors only by the virtue of its considerable wealth. Despite its highly defensible location, nestled amidst the central mountains and marking one of the only passages across the spine of Estovet, Geltreis was not comfortable standing alone and the Beffelets mirrored that sentiment. While the Beffelets sought refuge in the many shifting alliances of similar small nations to the west, most of the city looked eastward to the expanding nation of Arcartus. The government struck a schism. Many of the other merchant families, like the Beffelets, held ties with the highly independent west, and saw no virtue in dealing with the Arcartis. They were in the minority in the end, shuffled to the back by the people and a few deviant families. Geltreis integrated into the Arcarti system of government, the House of Affairs, and those sent to represent Geltreis were some of the Beffelet's largest rivals in business. The Beffelets fell from power, and fell even further from wealth. While their losses were similar in scale to other families attacked by the new administration, their fall was considerable more graceful. Rather than incite further conflict the Beffelets merely backed away from their business ventures and surrendered to garner what mercy they could. The heads of the family would prove to be correct in doing so, because the Beffelets remained accepted in society and did not suffer the continued abuse that many others chose out of pride. Karcine was born to a slowly disintegrating Beffelet family, still participant in the festivities and gatherings of Geltreis' elite, but no longer the power of local mercantilism they once were. Her father, Anastas Beffelet, taught her to hunt and care for herself. He told her, and all of his children, that they must always be able to care for themselves before caring for business or politics. Karcine grew up shamed for her name, but never turned her back on it. As she grew, she gained the opportunity to enter the social whirlwind her family and many others suffered in, and found herself thriving amidst her heiress contemporaries as a chillingly capable young woman. She could do little else in society besides care for her name by acting as an ideal lady, but her hand was felt at the dinner table in the spoils of her hunting habit and in the ledger when she turned her interest towards assisting in the affairs of the few merchants who still came to Geltreis on the credit of the Beffelet name, often in back rooms and under blackout curtains. When she finally came of age, her father succumbed to illness. The Beffelets, a once prominent name both under and above legal ground, nearly vanished in a night. Her relatives were strangers to her by that point, people who had either abandoned the struggle altogether or become too engrossed in it and thus indistinguishable from common thugs. The people who inhabited Beffelet manor became foreigners to her as she set her sights on what she calls her duty. Like most people in Geltreis, she saw the Arcarti presence in her city as less of a blessing and more of a curse, but unlike most, she sees perfectly suitable sport in reclaiming the status of her family and spurring Geltreis to reassert its independence.

Henry Rosier

Name: Henry Carson Rosier
Age: 34
Gender: Male

Appearance: At an imposing 187cm (6'2"~), Rosier is a foreboding presence wherever he plants himself. A man of wide shoulders, he has the lean musculature of a warrior to go along with a fitness forged during a youth working the land and maintained since. His skin is pale, with warm undertones and a propensity for flushing. Nonetheless, it has a rough, strong texture and he has a number of callous spots upon his hands and feet. A single scar marks his otherwise clear skin, a long jagged carving across his left shoulder that proceeds most of the way down his chest and over his heart. He has boyish features, possessing the average looks of the stereotypical country youth. With a thick jaw and a broad chin, he still has an air of sturdiness about him. Henry has a small nose, his most fragile looking feature by far, that spaces his eyes with its modest length. His eyes are olive green, a standout color for eyes that utterly lack expression. Not quite dead, the expression upon his eyes is invariably flat and unresponsive. His hair is fine and silky, with a luxurious texture wasted on the man. He has let it grow to a moderate length, covering most of his forehead in uneven locks and letting it hang freely down to the nape of his neck. Is it is a maple brown color, with a very clear tinge of red that has often driven comparisons to the color of mocaccino. For the most part, his hair is straight, owing to its texture. It refuses to take shape, which is why Rosier tends to grow it out.

Clothing: Henry's attire is gathered from his travels, but his style tends to remain centered around simple, single colored garments. His shirt is a deep blue color, a vibrant tone that holds well on soft, shiny fabric. It has short, wide sleeves that hang loosely around his elbows. A slightly darker band of blue marks the end of each sleeve, but they lack a distinct cuff. Its collar has the same breezy fit, folding droopily around a large neck hole. The hem of the shirt trails past his waist, and it is never seen tucked in. His pants are woven from a tough, durable canvas dyed charcoal black. They fit snugly, belted above his hips with a knotted leather strap. His pants were apparently made for soldiering or working in mind, as they feature wide openings for booted feet. Other than that, they are pocketless and without embellishments, as they were appropriated from a uniform that placed utility elsewhere. No matter what attire he's wearing, over it is always his coat. Rosier's coat is made out of tough, waterproofed fabric. It extends to his knees, with a hem trimmed in leather. For cuffs, its sleeves are belted at the wrist, holding them secure to the wearer. They are also trimmed with a thin strip of mostly decorative leather. It is double breasted, sealed by four pairs of small, blackened buttons up its front. Its notched lapel leads into a high, stiff collar that holds out the wind. Carrying Henry wherever he goes are a pair of brown leather boots. The subtle floral pattern dented into their surfaces has become invisible under years of dust and scuffmarks, and they've become a mixture of softened by abuse and hardened by age as one moves along the cured leather panels. Only the laces are new, replaced as a necessity at some point, they hold together the fronts of each boot with an ornate lacing pattern.

Weapons/Belongings: Henry's only weapon is a curved broadsword of elegant, but unfinished construction. From end to end, it is 76cm (~2'6") long, with a 60cm blade. It is made from a peculiar and beautiful mix of folded bronzes, with a wavy gradient of dark and light tones along its blade. The complicated technique, very nearly wasted on an outdated material, produced a weapon that holds its edge well and boasts a blend of hardness and flexibility along locations where the smith has spread the various types of bronze. It is single edged, with a sturdy back that adds a large amount of weight to the weapon. For being a curved sword, its actual curve is very slight and begins only 3/4ths down the length of the weapon, with the front edge gracefully arching back to meet the spine. The spine of the weapon also curves, more severely and closer to the hilt than the cutting edge. After broadening the blade enough to add heft to its tip, the spine straightens again and races straight to the point. It has no guard, as the elegant blade gives way to a neglected hilt. A strip of metal, once intended to run through a far more decorative hilt is all that remains, and it is wrapped in cord for the sake of the user's hands. Despite its unwieldy nature, Henry manages with the weapon out of sheer familiarity. Owing to the fact that it was never finished, his sword lacks a scabbard, and he opts to carry it in a rectangular case of mahogany colored leather covering a frame of lightweight wood. It small and oblong shape sets it apart quite distinctly from an average suitcase, but it was not intended to conceal the nature of its contents. The case is held closed by one turning lock undenearth it's carrying handle and two leather belts at either end of its length. The interior has little space, used only for silk pillows indented with the form of their precious cargo. He carries the case either by hand or slung over his shoulder by a length of fine cord tied around the carrying handle.

Personality: Henry comes across cold. For the most part, he actually is. A life of soldiering has left him with few questions or aspirations to spend his time chasing. He has always been able to solve his problems with the calculated application of violence and faith in leadership: there was little else for a mercenary of his caliber. In conversation, he is polite but unexpressive, shying away from topics that have little to do with his objective. No matter the situation, he sees himself as a warrior first, and is dedicated to his choice in lifestyle. Not quite a poet, Henry's sole interest is in the philosophy of his occupation. He cares little for conventional morality, replacing notions of right and wrong with zeal for his art and a firm belief that a soldier is always justified in following orders. His takes the greatest pride in his ability as a warrior, but even questions of his prowess barely elicit a reaction from the man, though his calm comes less from steel nerves and more from desensitization. His anger is constant and dull, directed inwards and harnessed to drive him forwards rather than allowed to bloom into unseemly outbursts. Despite his stable, serene reactions to just about everything he has a definite taste in people and avoids the company of people he finds unsavory. Fellow artists, fighters sworn to the perfection of their form and soldiers devoted to their trade are the people he has always called allies, and over the years he has developed a genuine affinity for the like-minded. Those he views as 'dirty,' sellswords and vultures in business for what he considers wrong reasons, are the few he possesses open disdain for. Henry considers them eyesores undermining the image of dignified warfare, responsible for the atrocities often considered one and the same with large scale conflict.

History: Henry is native to Arcartus, but besides being born on the east coast he has little history with it. Before he was even a child his family had crossed the mountains into the myriad kingdoms of the Northwest. He never learned why, as he was seperated from his parents while he was still very young. His own suspicion is that they were fleeing some form of debt, as there was little else that could rationalize their constant movement and eventual decision to entrust their own child to fate. Henry was tossed around the underbelly of the small nation of Tressel, living only at the mercy of others. Like many of the northwestern states, it was an ancient monarchy locked in a perpetual, slowly boiling struggle with its neighbors for title and land. Without peers and without any real understanding of the world, he considered his own existence fruitless but continued to struggle mostly out of spite for his crooked situation. A strong willed youth drifting between odd jobs, it didn't take long for him to be drafted into the nation's petty conflicts. He adopted the name Rosier upon entering the military of Tressel, and with a clear cut purpose in front of him for the first time, found a perspective for his life. He had always bloomed where others withered, and the battlefield was no exception for the young man. Fighting was his substitute for expression, and he found the notion of competition incredibly rewarding after having been eluded by satisfaction for his whole life. As he matured, he began to take pride in more than just beating down whatever his lord pointed him at, he had a skill to perfect and the egotistical rumblings for material wealth that the northwestern kings sponsored was not the place for someone like him. Withdrawing honorably from years of service as a man at arms, he travelled to Estovet's south immediately and took up the mantle of a soldier of fortune within the continent's bustling trade states. He left Estovet for quite some time, always returning when his job was done and his post no longer engaged him. Despite his many years of continuous success, he never met with any significant fame or fortune, which was all well by him. With the rumors of unrest and the involvement of many well aged and esteemed families in both scandal and ruin, Rosier found himself hunkering through the cold at Geltreis, a place bearing all the factors needed to transform into a soldier's paradise with just the right amount of persuasion. He sought a soldier's employment, and found it with the city guard. In his short tenure he has developed a modest reputation as a leader of men, and allegedly a healthy relationship with the Tolbert family.

Between the Elms

Between the Elms

The city of Geltreis was once a nameless little settlement hidden away amidst impassable and barren mountains. It began as a wayfarer's station, sheltering those braving the pass, and slowly grew as would be travelers found themselves settling there. The people of Geltreis drew what they could from the environment, and sold mountain lumber for what they could not. With little other claim to fame or fortune, it sat along one of the only routes through the continent of Estovet's harsh central mountains. Merchants had to stop there, and so they soon began to ply their trade there. Traders from either side of the mountains came to Geltreis to exchange with their peers, saving both the time it took to cross the continent. It grew into one of the most successful city states on Estovet, lead to greatness by a council of its wealthiest families. They transformed it from a necessary stop along the way that merely happened to enjoy the benefits of its position into a grand junction between the eastern and western halves of the continent. The mountain city built high walls around it and an imposing tower at its center to ward away the bandits and nations with an untoward interest in its wealth, threats that never diminished over the hundreds of years of independence the city enjoyed. As it was nestled between two mountains, it was nestled between two growing political giants. The empire of Arcartus stood to the east, a young nation of unparalleled military might that had sought to and succeeded in uniting the eastern seaboard. To the west, the hundreds of warring kingdoms that competed and squabbled for the entirety of Estovet's northwest. Divided perpetually in their own ancient conflicts, they were at least united in warding away the influence and interest of the rest of the world. Many of Geltreis' elite came from the numberless countries in the northwest, and shared their love for independence and tradition. The rule of the merchants had become 'the old way' over the years, it was something to be preserved as the champion of past progress and the force that would guarantee prosperity in the future. Standing alone had become ponderous, tariffs and taxes caused the city to suffer as a result of the larger world's economic rivalries. Money had become the issue, and regardless of political allegiance the merchant kings of Geltreis had a very clearly defined bottom line.

The choice was made by the majority anyway. Geltreis was driven by its common folk into integration with Arcartus, with the handful of Arcarti sympathizers among the nobility leading the way as chosen envoys. The decision was prompted by a change in the Arcarti government some years before, with the resignation of the empire's royal family and the establishment of a national senate called the House of Affairs. Those who had supported the decision found themselves sent as representatives to the House of Affairs, and those who had vied for allegiance with the myriad northwest were penalized under the new rule. For hundreds of years the noble families of Geltreis had competed on a purely economic basis, their rivalries were bitter but their intensity had been constrained by the nature of their occupation. When they took their personal feuds into representative government, they were relentless, and those given the upper hand acted without mercy. Hundreds were forced from their occupations, and entire families were wiped away by poverty and repression as the new governors of Geltreis legislated against them under the guise of majority rule. It did not take long for the populace to become aware of these practices, and no sooner than the pro-Arcarti families were chosen as the people's voices they were just as resented as the westerners had been. For the actions of a few Geltreisians, Arcarti rule became synonymous with tyranny and discrimination in the city. For the part of Arcartus, little intervention ever came from the capital, and the wound upon their relationship with the city was allowed to fester.

Seventy years passed and Geltreis' position in the world remained much the same. Its value as a trade nexus only grew, but the bitterness of the dethroned only fermented into a seething hatred of Arcarti rule. By the year 1153, several incidents of violence had occurred in Geltreis, often assaults against the city's politicians and even a few altercations with members of the Arcarti military sent to garrison Castle Geltreis. A skeleton crew of a few dozen rangers allotted to mind the pass and maintain the aging castle, they lacked influence and the policing of the region was left to the locals. Owing to their policy of remaining on castle grounds and the caustic welcome Geltreis provided to the Arcarti military, the locals took to calling the castle as the Geltreis Hermitage. Geltreis, in accordance with Arcarti law, was free to establish their own militia for the defense of their city and surrounding territory. A few years prior, a man named Martin Tolbert had been sent to the House of Affairs to represent Geltreis' affairs in the empire, and it was the Tolbert family and those loyal to it that represented wealth and power in the city for the time being. As a public service, Tolbert money paid much of the city militia's expenses, and it was a public secret that many among their ranks served the private interests of the Tolberts and their allied families. Their private interests were, of course, the suppression of their competitors. The Beffelet family, among many others, had stayed to struggle through the new era, and as a collective the western families were wealthy enough to defend themselves from the underhanded methods of the new elite. With the only uninvolved Arcartis locked away in Castle Geltreis, the families' rivalry quickly escalated into clandestine warfare. No longer containable in legislature and business practices, their fighting spilled into the back alleys and empty streets. Sellswords and unscrupulous adventurers were drawn to the city by rumors of the conflict and lavish pay offered by old, wealthy families in need of hired muscle. On both sides of the law, Geltreis had become run by organized crime with any attempts at inquiry by the Arcarti government staved off by those governing the city.

The year is 1156, and the families of Geltreis are still free to rage against each other away from the public eye. With each scuffle and stabbing in the city streets they come closer to open conflict. The elite in control of the city savor the security of Arcarti rule, and use their position to remain in power and erase the influence of those who opposed them decades ago. The western families that remain seek the independence of the city, which in their eyes can only come from open rebellion against the tyrants Arcartus has allowed to befoul their once-country. The people of Geltreis, caught between, suffer the affronts of both but have come to resent Arcarti rule all the same for the harm it has done to them and their way of life. The time for an end has come to the feud, each side fears that the Arcarti government will come to dismantle the plutocracy and assume full control of what has become a problematic area, and knows that there will be little warning when it happens. There are rumors of organized rebellion brewing within the city, and those interested in supporting the cause of Geltreisian independence are seeking to band together where they may. Opposing this, the Geltreis militia has been expanded greatly in the past few months. A man named Henry Rosier, a section leader within, has sworn to stamp out organized crime within the city and developed a reputation with the populace for his heavy handed methods. With his authority and apparent backing from above, he seeks volunteers to join the militia's hunt. Those who know of the man claim he is little more than a professional soldier placed at the head of the Tolbert's attack dogs. The reclusive Beffelets have all but disappeared from the public eye, but whispers say the gangs and syndicates are beginning to gather armaments in preparation to retaliate. Both sides are searching desperately for outsiders to fill their ranks, they have become disjointed and segregated into factions even among themselves. All claim to seek justice, and all the city needs is one group bold or stupid enough to begin the end of its story.

Introduction

The alleys were what remained for her. Hallways floored in dirt and stone, surrounded by the looming buildings of Geltreis. Even from behind, the wandering woman could not help but admire the homes she passed by. Wherever one went in the city, the architecture remained beautiful. Wealth tended to have that effect. The newer quarters were distinguished by their brick and stone furnishings and complex modern aesthetics. Wrought iron fences and towering, impressive structures were the way of the future. The rest of Geltreis retained its old but immacuately maintained wooden construction from ages past. Robust log structures erected almost where the lumber had fallen, they had a nostalgiac beauty that radiated through their craftsmanship more than anything else. Their legacy was almost as old as her own, the city and her ancestors had walked hand in hand towards the present. Whether or not it was tragic or fitting that she now spent her time cowering in their shadows, she could not decide. Between bouts of admiring the woodwork she caught glimpses of the city streets outside. The snow that had fallen in the night had been brushed aside, soiled by mud and filth and piled along the sides of the road. It was still early in the morning, most of the people passing by were on their way to the market or their own work. Outside of broad daylight, most people didn't dare to wander alone anymore. Crime had always been what they pointed their fingers at, citing the smugglers as their reason for fear, but the past few years had brought a new name to their lips. A trio of men in dark blue uniforms flashed by one entrance to the alleyways, and she stopped for a moment to make sure they were merely passing by. The new faces of fear in Geltreis, the city's watchmen. They were only doing their job, hunting dangerous people who did their best to blend in with ordinary folk, but it didn't excuse the harm they caused to the ordinary folk as they worked. No longer civil servants, they were soldiers in someone's private war now and no change in Geltreis marked the decline of civil order so succinctly. No one came wandering in, and with only the silent homeless to accompany her morning walk, Karcine Beffelet moved on. Like the rest of the masses confronting the morning chill, she was going to the market.

She froze at the threshold, one foot back in the alley and the next just beginning to venture out onto the cobblestone. The market of Geltreis stretched before her. It was a round area, a large plaza populated by a few scattered buildings and crossed by roads for the carriages and wagons that came through regularly. Stalls and tents replaced traditional structures there. They were as colorful as any others in the world but more sturdily constructed than what most people were used to seeing on account of the cold. Castle Geltreis stood close by, a stone fort built around a spire which served to survey the surrounding countryside. What Geltreis had for its city center was more than the average bazaar or arcade, it was the face of commerce that allowed the far more important and far more filthy business to be conducted throughout the rest of the city. She began to walk, holding her coat about her as she blurred into the crowd. Amidst the foreigners and innocent folk just going about their business, there was little chance that someone would recognize one of the Beffelet daughters, even one of the more noteworthy people to bear the name. Covered by so many wandering eyes, the open market was the closest thing the city had to neutral ground. Even if she was seen here by someone with enough of an agenda against her to care, some wandering gloryhound for the Tolberts that wished to drag her in for any number of invented reasons, they wouldn't dare to act where the truth could be witnessed. The same went for her she supposed, but no petty rivalry could distract her from the importance of the day's work. The snow that covered the streets was a sure sign that her time had come, because now it only littered the roads rather than fell from the heavens. Weeks of the winter's fury had fallen upon Geltreis in the depths of the season, but it was the beginning of a new year now and with time the snow had ceased to fall. During the deep winter, only well equipped caravans and dedicated travelers braved the roads. Now that the weather was fair for travelling again, adventurers following nothing but whimsy would be bringing themselves to the struggling city. Some of them already knew of what was going on, of the gangs and the crime families that begged for hired hands, others would find out. The green clad woman had no intention of drawing a distinction between the two, both could be bought and both she needed equally. Naturally, there were others like herself in the crowd. People who also saw opportunity in others and wished to rise to power. They were indistinguishable from the rest of the gaily colored crowd, milling about and watching all of the colorful travellers being welcomed to their city. Despite that, she could still feel them there, a creeping sensation that could have easily just been the cold. A procession of wagons, carriages, and even lone horses had begun to snake its way through the market's streets, newcomers that had finally been granted entrance as the morning watch reached their posts. It was doubtless that a number of them had already been recruited, for some cause or another. For a moment, she wondered if it was not Geltreis being used. The thought made them less innocent, more legitimate targets, but whether she liked it or not she had to find several amongst them that would do.

Factions of Geltreis:

This list will be updated as the situation develops.

The Tolberts and Arcarti sympathizers:

The Tolberts are the most prominent family that backed integration with Arcartus. For their part in the process, members of their family have continually managed to secure election as Geltreis' representative in the House of Affairs. A handful of other old families stand beside them, but for the most part it was the people who backed their decision to align with the empire. The people's opinion on the union has changed with the obvious misuse of authority it has brought, and their base of power is now maintained through strong arm tactics at the hands of their personal army within the city guard. They claim to be champions of the peace and seek to eradicate the crime families and gangs that have recently become popular in the city. Conveniently enough, they are eradicating their former competition who were forced to either leave Geltreis or enter a life of crime under the new government.

The Beffelets and western sympathizers:

The numerous merchant families of Geltreis who once enjoyed great influence over the city's government. When the people of Geltreis chose Arcarti rule and empowered the Tolberts they were forced from their legitimate businesses and those who attempted to resist through legal means were silenced, some more harshly than others but all outside the bounds of the law. They now use their remaining fortunes to combat Arcarti rule in Geltreis and do so in ever increasing cooperation with the ordinary citizens. They have become crime families either to survive or to directly confront order where it has been used against them. They claim to be champions of the people's justice while they clash with the town guard and seek to overthrow the local government. Their actions within the city have grown increasingly violent in recent times, owing to their practice of hiring mercenaries to handle their dirty work.

The Empire of Arcartus:

Blissfully unaware of the failure of their regional governing system, the government of Arcartus has been kept at bay by the Tolberts and their influence for quite some time. However, no matter how much false information reaches the House of Affairs and how many palms were greased along the way, rumblings of unrest are gradually turning heads in the capital. The silence of the Geltreis garrison has gone from comforting to unsettling in a short span of time. The eyes of the government are slowly focusing on the city, and their investigative ministrations will not be far behind. Both sides have much to fear from the arrival of the Gendarmerie of Arcartus, or worse yet, the military proper. With few exceptions, the Arcarti government is indifferent to the conflict at Geltreis, and the only reaction that can be guaranteed from it is to seek to preserve stability and legal representative rule within its borders.

Rules:

1: General etiquette is the rule. Don't powerplay, don't control other people's characters, and above all else respect each other. You're not expected to get along with everyone all the time, that's what a group dynamic is, but outside of the roleplay we're all on the same team.

2: Please remain active in the roleplay. If you cannot post for a few days simply notify me so that I can keep the roleplay moving and keep your character involved.

3: If you have an issue regarding content or behavior with another player or with me, please communicate with me. The OOC is there for that sort of thing, and as a GM I will be happy to lend you my ear no matter what, but in dealing with other players always remain civil.

4: This thread will always remain open for new players.

5: Please abide all forum rules.

Character Sheet:

Name:
Age:
Gender:

Appearance:

Clothing/Armor:

Weapons/Belongings:

Personality:

History:

Feel free to amend this format as you see fit to establish your character better.

Player list:
Character Name / User name / Post Link

Halyn LaKruz / DrowsyPangolin / Post Link

John Preston / Sightles / Post Link

Jacob Preston / Sightles / Post Link

Felix Nikephoros / MZambos / Post Link

Dalia Harker / ravenDivinity Post Link

A City Betwixt

Name: Vivian Lenitz
Age: 21
Gender: Female

Race: Human

Appearance: Vivian is 168cm (5'6") tall, an unimposing height for someone with a very slight build. She is dainty and thin, looking frail and brittle even under heavy clothing. Though her life could in no way be called leisurely, she never saw manual labor in fulfilling her role. Her skin is light, coldly colored and quite pale but otherwise healthy. It is clear and smooth, free of distinguishing marks and scars. Vivian's face is girly, shaped with a soft jawline and gentle features. Her eyes are an unnatural and bright gemstone blue, the color of cold waters. Their shape is round, never drooping but gripped by a deep-rooted sadness that permeates any expression she happens to be wearing. Her nose is tiny and pointed, usually colored only by two small blemishes of irritation caused by her glasses. Her lips are much the same, childishly small and frowning. Vivian's hair is a glossless slate black, and almost always tousled. Long, messy bangs obscure most of her forehead down to her eyebrows. Behind, her hair reaches down to the nape of her neck, and further in a few rogue strands. Vivian carries herself meekly, with a low head and a peculiarly shuffling stride that makes her easy to identify.

Vivian is stuck in the garments of her office. The first of which is a sleeveless blue jumper dress. It is an overgarment, made of sturdy cloth and quite rugged for a clerical uniform. Another difference from common religious garb is its complete lack of an emblem. It is double breasted, decorated down the front solely by two rows of black buttons, ten in total, spanning from the waist to just below her collarbones, where the body of the dress ends and its shoulder straps begin. The garment is tightened over her lower ribs by a black belt, partly integral to the dress, passing under the third row of buttons. The dress ends at her knees, fitting around her legs with little excess, but not so tightly as to prohibit mobility. Underneath, she wears a white shirt, utterly simple and without pattern. It is buttoned up the front, again with black fastenings, and similarly cuffed at the end of its full length sleeves. It has a high collar that obscures her throat even when folded. Her legs and feet are covered by tights, opaque and black colored, which run up to her hips. For footwear, Vivian has appropriated a set of brown leather shoes, rounded toed and high ankled with a very slight heel. Around her shoulders, she wears a long, wide scarf dyed pale blue. It is typically tightly wound, piled high and obscuring her jaw if not her lower face when she's keeping her head low. Both tails of the scarf hang over her left shoulder, one going down her front and other other her back. Less clothing and more essential to her being, she carries a pair of glasses. They are a thin wire framed set with rectangular lenses rimmed only along their bottom halves.

Weapons: None. Vivian has seen and handled a wide variety of weapons, but only for the purpose of moving and storing them. She has a rudimentary understanding of martial concepts gained from close proximity to soldiers and officers for most of her life.

Personality: Vivian is a quiet, kindly mannered person. She embodies charity, born with a disposition towards altruism that manifested in her career as a priestess. She finds satisfaction in helping the needy and placing others above her, and her fixation on this might even be seen as egotistical to some. Something that separates her from the idealized view of the cleric is Vivian's understanding that saving people is more or less outside of her capabilities, instead, she is content to serve as an indiscriminate helping hand. Paired with her free-floating ideology is a monumental patience. Never one to speak first, she is always ready to sit, wait, and understand her way through a difficult situation. Stemming from her primary quality of patience, Vivian has a distaste for hasty people, finding them to be usually wasteful or unreasonable. She isn't particularly confident in any of what she does, dueling with the fear that her good will towards others is not genuine and a gradually diminishing self-respect. Emotion often comes to her without context, and her lack of memories makes it hard to understand even her own feelings, much less the strange world she now inhabits. Every timeless day is spent in a stupor that she has yet to decide the identity of, between shame and regret. Feelings held for memories that come only in jagged, mismatched pieces. Patient as she is, the lack of answers is wearing her down, making her brittle, and an animal part of her knows it.

Ability: The chains used to kill Vivian manifest first as ether, intangible but visible as the blackened chain solidifies. They flail around, attempting to seek out a target, and react only to things they can feed on. Vivian herself is simultaneously bound by the chains, and the entity works to kill both parties as it feeds. Given her constitution, and also the preference of the chains, Vivian is assured to die first in any exchange done this way, rendering the chains inoperable and limp following her expiration. The rusted, battered spans of heavy, thick chains seem to have a mind of their own, appearing inconsistently and defying Vivian often when she wills them to disappear. Even before the chains assume their historic positions on Vivian, the ligature marks once made around her throat begin to bruise and bleed when the chains become active. The pain of this invisible force strangling the life out of her is only intensified when the real chains are worked into the grooves. They are only slightly stronger than their steel construction would suggest, held together by a lingering malevolence that warms the steel links to the touch and commands the bindings to consume. When broken, the metal bleeds and sings out in shrill voiced, erratic melodies as it slowly works to morph and mend itself. Upon destruction, they disappear and become dormant, only to reawaken days later, hungrier and more active than before. Vivian believes that she is slowly developing an understanding of the chain's song, which continues in her mind even when the links are unbroken.

History: Vivian was born into a troubled country, and she lived in a small town in the country's rural lands. As a child, the state of the world didn't concern her or the other town children. They played at the town's river, and found entertainment their own way while worry filled their homes. She herself grew up destitute, and poverty drove her to seek shelter and employment with the local church. With no real love for preaching, Vivian became fixated on the spiritual help she could deliver through tangible means. She became a clerk, and life was stable. The troubles of the nation slowly turned to violence, and over the course of her adolescence she watched the land descend into war. The fighting was always far off, an abstraction that only served to inspire terror and propaganda. To Vivian in particular, it was a series of words and numbers prescribing the delivery of relief supplies to the surrounding areas. The fighting continued to simmer over the horizon, and before she suspected it she was an adult. She was no longer a clerk, but a slightly larger child in charge of the other children following the same path through life. Soldiers now came and went through their little town, pitching camp on its outskirts to rest before they set off to the front lines. The wounded were marched back for processing and recuperation, usually within the walls of the church and sometimes piled on makeshift beds spilling out onto the town green. It was helping, but it was bleak labor. The majority of her time was spent comforting the dying. Somewhere along the line, Vivian found herself dissatisfied with her work and its futility. She wanted to leave and go her own way, not for disdain of the church but a desire for freedom she'd never felt in her youth. Whatever she was doing was not working, for her and the people dependent on her, and the only thing on her mind was lashing out and experimenting in the hopes of finding her way. Before the young cleric could scrounge up the courage to become a wanderer, the long fought war had reached her home. The town was razed in the fighting, and the war moved on. Vivian remembers very little of her life, especially its end. Pleasure at feeling warm blood on her hands, without the ability to recall whose. Excitement at being hunted through the streets, with a confidence that feels utterly alien. Soldiers, or maybe just looters apprehending her. Everyone else was already dead, out in a ditch or butchered in the church's foyer. No matter what placations she sputtered out they kept circling her, shouting the word over and over again. She was wrapped in chains, pulled tighter and tighter until even breathing became impossible. "Butcher," they cried, and threw her to the river as the town burned. She awoke with a scattered mind in a strange world, footprints behind her and a golden city before her.

Spirit Clarity: Crimson

Tower of Prospect

Johnathon gingerly shook the other man's hand, not wanting to deny him politeness but still made uncomfortable by the behavior of the brothers. They were smiling at each other, but it felt to him like the smiles of agitated, distant relatives rather than the smiles of brothers. Resigned to nicety, he stood back and let their reunion carry on, his unease slowly transforming into curiosity with the comfort of distance. His blue eyes bounced back and forth between Aldric and Gideon, taking in their story's details. Brothers lost in war, a common story in his homelands, never any less tragic for the poor family. A cold ocean breeze was lashing at his back all the while, and every now and then an errant wave lapping against the pier would precipitate a gentle rain of saltwater droplets. John shivered slightly, and decided he wasn't very keen on sticking around. "It sounds that way," he chimed in from the sidelines. "Perhaps you'd like to come with us into the town? There are bound to be far more comfortable places to catch up," he suggested, although he didn't know a single tavern in the country.

Tower of Prospect

Johnathon found himself nodding along to Aldric's talking. He dearly hoped the things about the forest were true, although he didn't see himself venturing into it any time soon. His role was to help everyone else along, that was what he was good at, and experience had taught him that helping the people getting rich was the better way to get rich yourself. The idea of making it out wealthy didn't truly entice him, the thought that he might end up living a different life was strange and alien. In reality, it was simply following what he found to be his calling. Aldric wanted the group, and so did he, but before he could reply to the man they were cut off by the arrival of a fourth person. The atmosphere had changed that fast and he could feel it, a tension between the two he had no comparison for. A meeting like this wouldn't have raised an eyebrow somewhere else, but here they were in a strange land trying to get along with strangers. He found himself waiting, drawn intuitively into their drama after the sheer shock that Gideon's arrival had caused in the otherwise sturdy looking Aldric.