@Famotill I've seen some DMs just provide links to the character sheets in the threat rather than post them in their entirety on the zeroth page. Might try that if you start running out of characters!
The southern entrance to the sprawling city of Ardent's Fall was truly a sight to behold. Two massive stone guard towers erupted from the earth bearing the city's sigil, each flanking a massive metal portcullis, before which stretched an enormous wooden bridge that seemed to go on for miles, wide enough for three carts to travel with room to spare. Below the bridge flowed a gentle river, blue and meandering, with a few citizens washing their linens at its banks. A line of bodies miles long stood before the impressive entrance, no doubt visitors from all over Astoria and beyond seeking to partake in the Festival of Ardent's famous festivities. Apparently unable to contain their excitement, those waiting to enter the city began celebrating preemptively; merchants opened up their wagons, selling food and drink while the visitors danced and laughed in the meadow before the city. Truly, the main gates alone were a location worthy of visiting even without the excitement that awaited within the city's walls.
The nortwestern entrance to Ardent's Fall, the one at which Sir Merek the Brave stood before, was decidedly less glamorous and gorgeous. Here, a thick steel, about six feet in height with a small slit through which guards may peer through, was carved out against the stone walls. No lines formed in the murky swamps surrounding this meager entrance. Nary a soul could be found save for the ragged baron mounted on his beautiful white steed, its white legs coated in swamp water and grime. The champion's reasons for using this gate were... Complicated. He told himself that this hour-long ride far out of his way was faster, but in truth, Sir Merek the Brave was terrified of crossing that infernal bridge with the river below. So here he stood, now dismounted and ankle-deep in swamp, knocking at the side door. Certainly not a position most nobles wouldn't ever put themselves in, but then again, Merek was very unlike other nobles. The vision port slid open and a voice shot out.
"Ay? 'Ew is't?"
"Come on Reinald, don't recognize your favorite drinking buddy? Or are you drunk already?"
"Do my eyes deceive me? 'Tis th' baron o' Ashenfield, Sir Merek!"
The door swung open, revealing a tall, muscular guard with a deep scar running across his face, along with a massive grin. Reinald ran out and gave the baron a great big hug, nearly popping Merek's eyes out.
"Alright, alright, now get me out of this damn swamp!" Merek wheezed. The guard obliged and tossed Merek through the door before taking the stallion and carefully leading it through. The other side of the door led the trio into the slums of the city, though the immediate area surrounding the door served as a small open-air guard post. The intent of the secret entrance was to surprise any foes laying siege to the city's main gates, but saw little use save for smugglers and Merek. All the guards gave a smile and greeting to the baron before returning to their duties. One took the liberty of leading Merek's horse to a nearby stable, and Merek handed the young guard his spear as well. No way he was going to lug that thing around the town. Standing next to the guards in their shining full suits of plate armor, it became apparent just how run-down the baron was looking as of late. Pieces of his armor were missing and his face covered in scratches that were just beginning to heal, indicators of quite the scrap. His companion Reinald took notice.
"Aye, Sir Merek, yew look a lil' worse fer wear. Tough journey frem Ashenfield?" the guard asked.
"Wasn't so much the journey but the company, Merek sighed. "Remember my squire, Ergon? That old bastard tried to take off in the night with half my kit and coin with his thieving pals! Well, I came to just as they were leaving and gave them a beating. Must have knocked out thirty of them or so before they ran off with whatever they could grab. And to think, after all I did for that old man!" Merek vented, pacing back and forth.
"Well mi'lord, I know just th' treatment fer that. Where to first? Minnie's Tavern? Quackin' Yam Pub? Or, mayhaps, Th' Woodsman's Wife?" the guard ended with a sly grin.
Merek was visibly torn on deciding between the three before he came to his senses and shook his head. "Sorry old friend, no time for fun right now. I've got important business to attend to..." Merek replied, glancing down at the strange scar on his exposed hand. Reinald thought his comrade was being intentionally mysterious, and left it at that, but in truth the baron wasn't entirely sure of what he sought himself. The smell of roasting meat and mead swirled in his head, not to mention the thought of willing wenches. "But don't wait for me, Reinald, I'll catch up, or my name isn't Sir Merek the True!" he quipped, adding yet another epithet to his already extensive collection. The two bid their farewells and Merek headed off deeper into the city, though he wasn't quite sure what he was in search of.
Merek found himself at the heart of Ardent Fall's celebrations in the city square, where temptations met him at every corner. Merchants peddling wares, minstrels strumming out catchy tunes, and scantily-dressed men and women selling their own brand of goods, that of the flesh. He spotted a familiar, wide frame on a balcony high above, that of Viceroy Cadby. He had spoken to the man occasionally, and in Merek's mind, the two were simply best of friends. The baron gave him a smile and a wave, but the Viceroy's attention seemed to be focused on the man standing next to him, though this didn't stop Merek from shouting out to Cadby. The two went inside shortly after, and Merek shrugged off the encounter. Hmm, maybe I can open that damn letter now. Seems as good a time as any. Merek retrieved the envelope from a pouch on his belt and dug his fingers into it, tugging and straining with all his strength, but to no avail. Haven't had anyone else try opening it, though...
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! Step right up, and witness a modern marvel!" Merek shouted to the crowd forming before him from atop an overturned wooden crate, waving his scarred hand about. "It may seem but a tiny scrap of paper, but this envelope is stronger than all the Viceroy's men combined! For only a single coin, you too can test your strength and try your luck at opening this deceptively strong letter!" The baron's gimmick had been going on for a quarter of an hour now, and though he'd made some coin, he was still no closer to figuring out just what the hell he was supposed to be doing in the city. Merek was tempted to give up at this point and just live with the rather ugly scar; his eyes began wandering to the nearby tavern, temped by the pleasures that might wait inside for him. In this momentary distraction, Merek lost sight of the enchanted letter for a brief moment, and spotted it in the hands of a young, nimble-looking man just as he darted off down the street. "Well, shit."
Hello all! I've started writing up my post, but its ending up with a lot of fluff, as do most of my first posts in an RP. Bear with me, I get better, I swear :D
@Avanhelsing I'm just pullin' yer leg! You can have your character be whatever height ya want.
Moulder is probably somewhere in the lower 7 foot range. It says high elves are tall, and a lot of people where I live are 6'5 and over, so I figure he should be taller than that.
Though I'm not in what universe 6'2 is considered average. I think that's 5'10. ;)
I saw that ninja edit from 5'8 to 5'10 >:( but yeah, I guess I just meant average as in "not a muscle-bound freak" or "9'2 tree-ent". The term average gets a bit muddled when it comes to fantasy.
@Avanhelsing Nope, unforgivable! This adventuring party's only big enough for ONE 6'2 dude. Now 6'1, 6'3 I can get onboard with :D
And I'm a fan of how the system works right now personally, splitting the RP on one thread. Makes it easier so that Famotill doesn't have to update each OOC with newfound information, and when we converge we'll be familiar with the going-ons of the other group.
