Dusty

Warhammer Fantasy: The Guild of Esteemed Sellswords - An adventure in the Warhammer Fantasy world!

Apparently they were prepared to run the entire way. Frans Vou held up his hands in an attempt to placate the nain’s perception of his insulting notion. Recalling Meinhardt’s warning from the previous night he decided to beat a hasty retreat on such matters. After all his question would soon answer itself in good time once they migrated to the road. “No, no monsieur nain, a mistake, I understand in full. I meant no disrespect and apologize for my ignorance of your attributes and customs. Zey were not highly taught to moi, nor amongst my kin.” This explained Frans Vou mounted his horse and fell into their traveling column.

Indeed the Dawi demonstrated themselves to be determined folk, trudging along without complaint for miles on end. Though not even close to as swift as the study-footed mules or the proud warhorse they did not slow the overall party down by much and by the time they reached their destination Frans Vou found himself deeply respectful of their tenacity and spirit. Even though the weather proved tumultuous at times they, and everyone else pressed on, even Frans Vou did not express his dissatisfaction of their living conditions aloud. After all he perhaps had the most comfortable arrangements with servants to cook and clean and erect a tent for him each night. The Breton remained jealously selfish with his page and loyal manservant, allowing no others to order them about without his express permission, which was not often forthcoming. Still, Frans Vou was distinctly out of his element in this particular life style, but kept his thoughts and words to himself, unwilling to have anybody else deem him weak or soft.

When at last they drew close to their first mission Frans Vou dismounted breathing in the soft air, the scent of wet pine and elder sharp in his nostrils. Yet, besides the coils of wood smoke rising slowly above the treetops Frans Vou recognized none of the warning signs Severo mentioned. Perhaps the lack of guardsmen was obvious, but Frans Vou could neither deny nor confirm their presence was expected, and could implement no further expertise on the matter. Instead the bold knight surrendered his lance and horse’s reins to Adrian and stepped up beside Drimbold and Wademar. “Oui, count moi in monsieur Servero. I am curious to see zis sorcière we’ve traveled here for.”

Miraculous America

@Rockin Strings Sure, I could take over Rouge-Bat for the time being.

Miraculous America

“Catch it quick!” Serpentine yelled from across the room. She was currently in the clear with Mr. Johnson’s whip broken once again by Furitta he’d left off fighting her and was frantically attempting to push the broken ends of his weapon back together. “We need to get out of here fast and purify the akuma. I’ll get the bunny.” Pushing her way through the crowd of battling mirages and teenagers Serpentine forced a path to where Bella had smashed into the wall, kneeing down beside her.

“Hey, are you alright? That looked pretty painful.” Serpentine prodded the downed girl, wishing she knew her name or alias. But now wasn’t the time for a lengthy conversation, or even a proper introduction. Serpentine only possessed precious seconds before her suit deactivated, and Rouge-Bat was still a legitimate threat. She needed to get herself and the bunny-themed hero clear before he pounced. Casting a nervous glance over her shoulder Serpentine prepared to help Bella up onto her feet. “Can you walk? I don’t think I’m gonna be able to carry you, but I can support you out. We gotta hurry about it too, I don’t fancy facing Rouge-Bat in our current conditions.”

The Legend of Gobbledygook

I'm intrigued as well, though I must ask, will there be a rules in regards to the type of mystical creature were allowed to create? Or is it open season?

AETERNUM ~The Tyrant's Call~ (FULL)

Boddin Phuddle

Gender: Male
Age: Thirty-five
Race: Human
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 151lbs

Appearance:

Boddin Phuddle

Personality/Demeanor: A pleasant and outgoing chap of evident quality Boddin sees himself as a gentleman of lower class, and carries himself as such. He’s brave, loyal, and with high moral character. To add onto that, he’s a smart individual; learnt in reading, writing, and reckoning, and curious to a fault. Often Boddin will remark on this part of himself, saying he might’ve been a scholar if he hadn’t taken up the respectable trade of rat catching. Of course his chosen career gives him plenty of opportunities to engage his wily brain, as rats are sly creatures, swiftly learning to avoid new traps and poisons, or escape the clutches of any less intellectual hunter. They are like ever changing puzzles, and he loves a good brain teaser. Rats however, aren’t his sole quarry. Boddin Phuddle takes great interest in the games of shadows and deceit, styling himself as an expert of sorts, a medieval detective if you will, and so his rat trapping occasionally spills over into other, more lucrative of activities of discovery. His cheery bearing leads him to be trustworthy, and his unassuming profession lends him reason to snoop… Naturally he hears and sees things often hidden from the public, and thanks to his intellect he’s good at putting two and two together.


Backstory/Biography: When the great ships come ashore loaded with sailors and good they bring with them spices and silks, laughter and jokes, stories and woes, merry company and reunion of loved ones as tales both new and old are spun. But guised by the joyous greetings and heartfelt hugs and gifts is another sort of traveler disembarking the moored ships, quiet, deadly, and swift, and covered in diseased ridden, biting pestilent vermin.

Rats.

Oh rats indeed, but not the cute little cuddly ones with big ears. The large, mean, biting kind with black fur and red eyes that scuttle in the shadows, stealing the vittles, killing the cats and fighting the dogs. Sure enough they mingle amongst the native population spreading their fleas and infestations and burying themselves in a more fortified position then most castles. Only one type of man can flush them out, round them up, and kick drive them off. Rat Catchers. A respectable profession and highly sought after, these men are exterminators and they travel from town to town making their living off of ridding the communities of their rodent difficulties.

Boddin Phuddle, is one of these special kinds of men. Taking up the Phuddle family business in extermination, Boddin joined the ranks of the esteemed rat catchers’ guild at the aged age of seventeen. He was so old at the time due to his incessant book learning his father insisted he indulge in. After all Mr. Phuddle could see an intelligent young man in his son and set him up to do well. Indeed Boddin did do well for himself, becoming a respected trapper within the guild by his late twenties. It was here that he began engaging in other pursuits, not the least of which is his interest in odd happenings, and strange occurrences and mysteries. Boddin’s life was that of a traveling bachelor, as he showed little interest in settling down and beginning a family. He was far too concerned with his work, and his extracurricular activities to bother with all that. There was something to be said concerning the state of the lands as well. Roads were often dangerous and riddled with more thieves and muggers then there are rats in a grainer’s basement. Instead Boddin took companionship in his old hound Codsworth and took the thoroughfares otherwise alone. For the most part anyway.

Primary Weapon: Strapped to Boddin’s belt by a blue sash is a short falchion. It is a fine enough weapon, well-kept and sharpened to a keen edge. Boddin can employ with a surprising level of lethality for someone of his stature. And although most armor would turn the blade made for quick slashes, Mister Phuddle can dissuade many a highwayman from robbing him blind through rapid use of the simple blade.

Secondary Weapon: Usually carried in his hand like an improvised walking stick is the weather worn but sturdy length of timber which Boddin affectionately titles his ratting staff. About four feet in length, Boddin typically uses the staff to sweep hiding rodents from the hiding spots, or calm blood lusting ratters from taking a chunk out of his leg. However, should the situation call for it Boddin can deliver a hefty, concussive blow to the skull or wrist of would-be assailants. He’s got quite good aim too close up too.

Other Noteworthy Personal Items: First and foremost is his big mutt ratter named Codsworth. Boddin couldn’t ask for a more loyal companion to accompany him on his journeys. The dog is aged, with silver furs about his muzzle but well behaved and intelligent. He’s a big softy when it comes to humans and almor and drow as his guttural bark is far worse than his bite. Boddin in fact has never seen the hound savage anybody, though he doesn’t tell the average stranger that. When it comes to flushing out hiding rodents however, Codsworth is exceptionally skilled and when given the command he is more than willing to snap up an unfortunate rat in his powerful jaws.

Secondly is Boddin’s trapper box. A wooden treasure trove of clever traps and bottles of fiendish rat poisons to ensnare and slay his quarry near every situation. Inside he also keeps is wood and wire tools for crafting new traps, and chemical vials for fresh toxins just in case.

Strengths:

A Clever Mind: Shrewd and with plenty of wit Boddin prefers brains over brawn. He enjoys making cunning plans and outsmarting whomever he might be competing against. He finds puzzles and riddles a pleasant pastime and playing games, particularly chess.

Crafty Fingers: Putting his wily mind to good use Boddin often fiddles with small, intricate machines and contraptions. He’s made a hobby out of fashioning rodent traps, and if something with many parts is place in front of him Boddin is apt to take it apart to see how it works. Perhaps consequently he’s become pretty good at picking locks too.

Commendable Courage: Perhaps the simplest, but most raw of Boddin Phuddle’s traits is his modest, good-hearted courage. He isn’t an easy man to scare, that’s all. His moral and physical bravery is the smart kind. Not the foolish charge and die sort of gallantry of a martyr, but the humble, almost noble courage that only some men have.

Weaknesses:

Physically Lacking: Although he can hold his own in some fights Boddin isn’t a warrior prodigy by any means. That combined with his slight stature and passive disposition makes him a less than physically dominate figure. Because of this Boddin relies on his brains to get himself out of tight spots, or Codsworth.

Poor Eyesight: Lacking physically in more than one department Boddin doesn’t have the best of vision for things even as close as ten feet to the front of him. Mister Phuddle lives in a blurry world as he doesn’t wear spectacles, which makes him an exceptionally poor shot with a bow, or any other ranged activity for that matter.

Intergalactic Space Adventurers- [ISA]

Following Ursa to the medical bay was an enjoyable experience for Jean, considering the previous string of events for him. From beatings, violent struggles, and nail-biting diplomacy, just strolling down the halls of the Ranger small talking with Ursa was a pleasant change of pace for the worn sheriff. Unfortunately the adapted freighter wasn’t large and the two acquaintances ambled into the medical bay in a short time, where Mac, another man Jean recognized from earlier in Ursa’s office, a med bot, and a strange, sleeping young girl, were all jammed together with the newcomers in the small room. Ursa quickly introduced him to Emmett, the steely eyed young man dressed in a white, green, and black coat and seemingly armed to the teeth. If Mac was intimidating by his size and bulging muscle, Emmett worried Jean by his cold indifference. As if he’d be happily shaking your hand one second and thrusting his knife into your back the next. He’d seen a man like that before, and still possessed the scars to prove it. If he could help it at all, Jean wouldn’t be getting on his bad side any time soon. Ursa moved away to have her injuries treated by the bot while Jean regarded this mishmash group in cautious contemplation.

“I ‘ear from Miz Cooper y’all ain’t friends wit’ Mister Bob no more so I'll get right to the point. Apparently e’ treats his associates jus’ as well as he treats his enemies. Like dried spugheffer shit, only thing it’s good for is burnin’, an’ from what I c’n guess, tha’s a pretty good retellin’ over what went down. So, if’n I’m right in that regard and there’s no love lost betwixt ya. Well maybe we could come to a consensus in regards to our good friend Bob. I suspect he’s been messin’ wit’ th’ Theonian’s as of late, though I ain’t sure why. Yet. But I know when it comes to me, he’s been prodding th’ wrong bull.” Jean’s attention momentarily shifted as the girl in the petal dress stood, moving closer to talk to Ursa. The smuggler must start her crewmates young he supposed, but he couldn’t quite pin down what was off about her. Maybe it was the dress, or her eyes, or her voice but she mystified the cowboy to no end.

Setting his back against the durasteel infirmary hull Jean withdrew a second cigarette, not bothering to light it up but simply chewing the end between his teeth. He offered the pack to Mac and Emmett before slipping it back into his vest pocket. Using the buzz from the strong alien tobacco to shake off the disquieting feeling he got from the girl Jean reengaged the three adults. “Lookie ‘ere now. I know y’all ain’t got any stakes in bringin’ him down, an’ more’n likely don’t give a piss ‘bout no Theonian but how’s th’ saying go? The enemy of my enemy is my friend… Yeah, if y’all could give me everythin’ you know it’d be mighty helpful. An’ let me assure you.” Jean gripped the tip of his hat, pulling it lower over his eyes to add emphasis. “I got beef wit’ ol’ Bob an’ his thugs and have a mind to handle it. So ya won’t ‘ave to worry ‘bout him no more once I'm through, an’ you c’n take that to th’ bank.”

Avatar: the Legend of the Lost

Lower Ring, Ba Sing Se. Northeast

@Rokoran

---

Satisfaction dominated Huo’s face, even as her eyebrows rose in astonishment at this plethora of new information. Most of the more important aspects regarding this revelation were subtler than the man’s speculations about the source of the hubbub, but conclusive nonetheless. Apparently she’d guessed right about his origins, at least in theory. Still, Huo was now convinced that he was from the Fire Islands like herself, and upon reaching this conclusion she resolved to keep her surname undisclosed. Chances were he knew nothing of the Ling family line, but one could never be too cautious when it came to sensitive information and generation long blood feuds. Rushing alongside this presumed Fire Islander Huo’s mind turned to the literal sense of his words. It was a surprisingly straightforward conclusion, and it made Huo wonder if he knew more than he was revealing. One could imagine many different scenarios beyond just a bender prison escape. And yet, he’d followed something of a logical path to arrive there. But why would anybody in their right mind run towards something they suspected was a breakout of potentially dangerous criminals?

If at all possible Huo’s face contorted in even more surprise and she nearly stumbled mid-step. “You’re helping break someone out! Who in their right mind would try a prison break in daylight, in the middle of Ba Sing Se? You’ve got nowhere to run, you’re surrounded by walls. You’ll be helping your friends escape only to surely get recaptured. And worst of all AN controls the city, and it’s not like he takes kindly to those of us from Fire.” She hadn’t meant to let that last bit slip out and she put a hand over her mouth wanting to take every word back. She’d only guessed he was from fire; well the whole conclusion was a wild conjecture all exclaimed aloud without thought or consideration. She’d just announced to him and anybody listening that she knew his presumed intentions, and that she herself hailed from the Fire Islands. It didn’t help that she was a raging hypocrite too, but Huo wasn’t one for serious self-reflection in any regard. To her finding an air bender to fly her over the walls in order for her to assassinate An on his coronation made perfect sense. Whereas risking your freedom to rescue an imprisoned bender in an An controlled city was insanity.

“Sorry,” she whispered, keeping her voice low as if to make up for the earlier proclamation. At least they were running along a seemingly deserted avenue. “I shouldn’t have said that, but I promise my lips are sealed. I'm no friend of An or the Earth Kingdom.”

AETERNUM ~The Tyrant's Call~ (FULL)

I am interested, and I can promise decent and consistent activity.

AETERNUM ~The Tyrant's Call~ (FULL)

I'm intrigued, I even have a basic idea for a character. Are you wanting an initial OC outline to review before you confirm who will be participating?

Star Wars: The Outer Rim Onslaughts

Fair enough, my interest stands whatever you decide.