rabidbacon

Pride and Prejudice [ rabidbacon and EweDoughNo ]

Bertram yelled, eyes skyward, throwing all his anger and hurt into the ether. Everything was above him, beyond his reach, even now. The horse beneath him roared and pushed forth with its legs, turning the already erratic ride into a wild, dangerous race against the wind. Man and steed thundered across the field, the reins leading nowhere in particular, their speed an exercise in splendid futility.

Eventually, the man tired, and the horse, sensing this, slowed its pace, lowering its head to begin an easy graze. Upon its back, the lad slumped forward, burying his face in his friend's mane. Then, after an eternity, Bertram sat up straight and looked about. A slow realization crept in - the rocks, the trees, even the earth felt unfamiliar. He was lost. To be fair, he had intended to leave, but it was only to make people realize just how much they'd missed him. Now, he had to wonder what would happen if no one cared to look for him at all.

He leapt off his horse and started looking about for signs that pointed homeward, but his eyes did not know how to read the leaves. If night would fall upon him, it did not bode well. There were tales of fierce bears in the area, to say nothing of the wolves, too. With a sigh, the young noble leaned against a tree and pondered about just how he'd gotten himself in an even bigger mess than he'd left.

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

By the way, which companions are with Ophelia? Just want to know how to describe them! @sweetestsins

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

Take your time! I'm about to head to bed.
Very much looking forward to your post :D

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

It has begun! @sweetestsins
Hope that's ok! Will post character sheets tomorrow, if you like!

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

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The candle needed to be replaced, soon, Cullen thought. Then, he chastised himself with a click of the tongue and a shake of the head - his mind couldn't afford to wander, not when every second mattered. Tired eyes shot straight back to the sheet in his hands. It was a letter asking for more manpower to clean up the dead festering in the Hinterlands. Then, beneath that, were several other notes, asking about what to do about the sustenance of Inquisition recruits who had lost their limbs and could no longer fight.

Perhaps, it might have filled a better man with horror, but all Cullen felt was a festering impatience with the world and with himself. How he wished he could solve all the problems by himself, cut the demons down with naught but faith and a sword, but alas, the pen held more sway in the moment. He took a deep breath and sent the injured soldiers kind words and a promise, as well as a request for patience, choosing instead to direct most of the funds towards those in need of fresh footwear and armaments. This too, was the Commander's job, to bear the burden of guilt without breaking.

After a few signatures, he felt a mild ache well up behind his eyes, deep in his skull. His armor felt much heavier than it; he immediately put down his quill, removed his gauntlets and searched his things for a small, metal box. It was opened with fumbling fingers, revealing a pale salve with a strong, astringent odor. He applied it on his temples and at the back of his neck, breathing in the vapors with a raspy, satisfied sigh of relief.

Then, as quickly as he could, he put on the gauntlets once more and resumed his work. He'd wasted enough time on his pain. Rest would come, soon enough, but not yet. Not in a few more hours.

"Maker, lend me strength," he muttered, leaning against the table.

Cullen wondered how Leliana and her shadows bore their burdens. At least he and the rest of the soldiers had the luxury of fighting out in the open, with loss and glory shown in an honest, forgiving light. They lived and died by their secrets; he could understand why some broke under the strain. To be cast aside and called a traitor, all for a greater cause - this was the fate of a spy. Far easier to die a hero, to have a life remembered for helping others.

"Maker... likewise, lend them strength," added the Commander, remembering again, why he was doing all that was. "Grant us fortitude to fight through the darkness. And forgiveness... for the things we do to reach the dawn."

His thoughts strayed towards the foes the forces had come upon, as information on troop numbers and other such reminders that their enemies were people, too, came into view.

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Bored eyes stared languidly at the minstrel; there was something odd about her voice, something strained. Alba was irritated by it, expecting beauty and vigor, and instead, hearing apprehension. She sighed and turned her attentions back to her mug of what passed for liquor in Ferelden, though swill would have already been far too kind to describe its taste. Everywhere, dullness, as if the impermeable cold had managed to freeze all manner of life out, choking even the spirit.

Still, it would be a waste to throw out what could be used for other purposes. Once the dull voice had finished the tired song, Alba joined the others in applause, making it a point to clap all the harder, before approaching the woman. Of course, she was not the only interested party, but she was the fastest - there was a reason why she had seated herself close, after all.

"Che canto meraviglioso! I am enchanted," she remarked, with a sly smile. "Here. Why don't you quench your thirst?" Alba felt her own thirst rise, and she stoked it with a testing gesture that doubled as an overture of friendship. Her fingers rested upon the minstrel's own as she spoke. "I would-"

"P-please... could you help me?" The stranger's fingers grasped Alba's own with a fierce grip, but the words that came out of her mouth were not at all expected. Neither were they desired, but now, at the very least, Alba could finally forgive her for her terrible song. "There are... a group of bandits. Over there! And... I've already asked for help, but maybe you could-"

The Antivan grimaced and looked about for her crew. She had told them to try and fit in. But then again, who would want to dress in the ugly, mangy furs of Ferelden? They could hardly be blamed.

"Well, signora, I am sorry to say, but you are speaking to the worst of them," replied Alba, a raspy laugh rising from her throat as she fished her hat out from under the table and put it upon her head. "Now... I'd like it if you didn't call my friends bandits, bella."

In response, the minstrel shook her head, her eyes now darting rapidly back and forth to a larger group in the corner of the tavern, some of who had already begun to watch the strained interaction with wary frowns. Alba sighed and stood, hand now upon the hilt of an ornate rapier. It didn't take long for her crew to stand too, fifteen strong, each one of them spoiling for a fight.

a Tale of High Adventure!

I see, thanks for explaining. Personally, if magic is involved, I prefer to have some sort of system in place (even just a soft one), so I think I'll forgo my slot for other interested parties. Regardless, it all looks pretty promising, and I wish the players and the GM a fun time!

a Tale of High Adventure!

I'm thinking of making a bard-type character and am considering having buff-type or debuff-type spells - is there a sort of magic system we can abide by, with regards to the number of spells we know, as well as how many we can cast in a day? Same for talents and flaws, maybe it should be on a 1:1 ratio? @Red Wizard

It Came From the Sky

Eldwic hid from behind the pile of hay, motionless, for what felt like an eternity. Then, he brought the club down on the beast with all his might, smiling as he felt the crack of its skull reverberate through the wood. One more, and he'd be done for the day. He whistled, eyes roving around for sight of his friend. A quick bark from behind him made him spin.

"Larder! Good girl," he said, kneeling to pat his friend's head. "Well, looks like the day's done for us."

The young man took the rat from the wiry dog's mouth and placed it in his bloody pack, all full of dead, or dying vermin. Then, with a playful swing, he rested the club against his shoulder and marched out the barn, faithful little Larder right by his side.

"It's all done now, sir," he called out, eyes meeting the man who'd hired him for the day. "Here's the proof." With a grin, Eldwic held out his bag of kills, before putting it on the ground, at the man's feet. "You're welcome to count them too."

It Came From the Sky

Let me know if that's ok! @BunniesofDoom

The Shadows of Blackwood Keep

Edit: Added some more details about How to Play!
System not yet final, seeking feedback :)