@Arisenmoon could you keep your ns here till it's accepted? Just to help me keep track of things, thanks.
Flagg Member
Strange. This outcome I did not foresee.
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- Flagg 12 yrs ago
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I'm still uncertain if I'll have time for this. Consider me a very on the fence member for now.
hope you can join!
So smart phones, laptops, etc. ? Hm... I'll have to reconsider my character concept. I was making mine to fit into a sort of 20's/30's-ish noir type setting.
Well, I think a noirish character would still work, even with modern tech.
You can post it there
Heya!
Definitely interested but looks like ya got alot of interest so far so let me know if you are still accepting apps. Thanks ya!%
definitely still accepting- OOC is up.
Who pursues wealth pursues death disguised.
- from the Collected Teachings of Dagomund, Prophet of the Only God
- from the Collected Teachings of Dagomund, Prophet of the Only God
Months previous, just north of the Chain of Fire, the open ocean...
Snow was falling, big wet flakes that formed an icy brine as they mixed with the thin layer of sea water sloshing across the deck of the Lady Alma. The ocean heaved like a thing alive, the prow of the ship plunging down the back of the rolling green water only to smack into the oncoming wave in an explosion of freezing white spray.
It was the height of summer.
Not for the first time on this voyage, Gazid thought of home. Zar Dratha would be a steaming oven now, the city sluggish and silent by day, the endless grub-paddies beyond the walls shimmering like broken glass in the glare of the angry sun.
Not that Gazid cared overmuch what the weather did- for what he was being paid the Coward could lead him into the fifteen hells the Dagomun preachers warned so much about. If he survived this stint in the Broken Lands, Gazid would go home a very rich man with some very powerful friends. The Coward had quite a few allies in the South, among the Masters. Allies who wanted him to succeed in his native country.
Still, he drew his cloak about him more tightly and took a swig of Dalean brandy from a dented flask, relishing the liquor's burning warmth. The helmsman, one hand on the wheel, held the other out for a taste and Gazid shrugged and handed over the booze. Always paid to have friends on a ship like this-though he didn't know how sauced he wanted the man guiding the boat through these kind of waves...
Gazid took back his flask, took another swig, and cast his gaze over the deck before him. Sailors, a mix of Varyonese and Broken Landers, bustled everywhere, shouting orders and 'ayes!' over the roar of the water.
The Coward himself was leaning against the mizzenmast, his gaunt face blank and unreadable, black hair flying in the wind. He seemed indifferent to the roiling ocean beneath him. Knife in hand, he peeled an orange as he spoke to his two favorite cronies. Gazid knew them well enough: Vilmar the Grim, Daigon's right hand, a hardened grey-beard and soldier, looking pretty green on the open sea; and Half Face, a hulking aelgman, the left side of his face burned down to the skull, giving him a permanent, lopsided rictus.
Gazid couldn't hear what they were saying, probably talk of Broken Lander politics. A topic about which he didn't need too many details- just the Coward to tell him who to frighten, who to kill, and when to do it.
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Her blessings are many, her price is always the same.
- greeting given to one another by initiates of the Quiet Sisters
Her blessings are many, her price is always the same.
- greeting given to one another by initiates of the Quiet Sisters
Weeks previous, Sepulchrave...
She stood at the end of the stone pier, dressed in crimson and white, her robes billowing in the sea wind. She was beautiful, with fair hair and fairer skin, blue eyes and a knowing smile that had driven more than a few men to make dangerous mistakes.
She looked like a young woman, no more than twenty five. But she was not a young woman.
The Jarl's ship loomed high above her, too large a ship for Sepulchrave's docks. Sailors above shouted at one another in a mongrel mix of tongues as they cast down ropes and struggled to secure the massive vessel to the crumbling stone quay. They succeeded, eventually, and the gangplank dropped with a slam.
Daigon, her husband, was the first off the ship, axe at his side and broadsword across his back. He came to her, seized her arms with subdued violence and kissed her, and she remembered why she loved this man she had hardly seen for the better part of two decades.
He had come back, since the Stonefoot had ordered him away, three times to her, traveling anonymously on merchant vessels. Once he had stayed in Sepulchrave, no one knowing but her, for five months.
While he was in the south, they had kept in touch continuously through letters carried by traveling members of her Order. The Quiet Sisters had a large priory in Zar Dratha and several smaller ones throughout the southlands.
Even so, he had been a long time in exile, and Daigon had no heir. She suggested they work on that when he was finished kissing her.
He smiled, "There will be time for that," he said. Years in the ash deserts had turned his voice into a soft rasp, "Now is the time for other things."
She looked behind him, saw his men unloading from the ship. Three were already on the pier, approaching the Jarl and his wife. Vilmar she knew, and she recognized the scarred aelgmen Daigon had spoken of in his letters- a fierce warrior saved from the Salished priests and their hungry gods. The third she did not recognize, a dark-skinned Varyonese in black robes, his hands covered in swirling blue tattoos. She could read Drathan, had studied it in the Priory, and so she knew those markings were more than ornaments.
"Cythlla," said Daigon, "I must away, but briefly this time. While I am gone, I need you to do something."
"Anything."
"Call the banners."
She said nothing.
"Vilmar and the aelg will stay here, in command of the Coward's Men. But I will need all the Shattered Moon, and you must call them."
"The other, he is one of the Congress' assassins, is he not? One of the Subtle Instruments?"
As though he had heard, the man in the black robes approached and bowed to Cythlla.
"I am Gazid," he said in accented norse, "honored to be a guest in your lands, my lady."
"Honored to have you," she replied, in High Drathan. The assassin raised an eye brow and said nothing.
"I am going to Kingsport," said Daigon, "with him."
Hello, too late to join?
Nope, you're more than welcome!
@Aristo @The Wyrm @Dogematix @Nerevarine @Ashgan @gorgenmast @captainbritton (apologies if I missed anyone)
The moot has begun! very exciting.
Some details for everyone's reference:
The Stonecutter clan commands some of the wealthiest lands in the Broken Lands, and has a powerful army of its own. If push came to shove, the High Queen could put together a force that would give most other clans pause.
BUT!
The loyalty of her clan chiefs is precarious- these were mostly men loyal to the Stonefoot, and who may have interests that can be exploited by the other clans. ALSO, as NPCs, players can invent and control other members of clan stonecutter as they wish. So if you want to invent a wavering lieutenant of Aigoth's who will defect to your side- you may! just be reasonable- he shouldnt command all of the Stonecutter armies. The point is to maintain the High Queen as a force to be reckoned with.
The moot has begun! very exciting.
Some details for everyone's reference:
The Stonecutter clan commands some of the wealthiest lands in the Broken Lands, and has a powerful army of its own. If push came to shove, the High Queen could put together a force that would give most other clans pause.
BUT!
The loyalty of her clan chiefs is precarious- these were mostly men loyal to the Stonefoot, and who may have interests that can be exploited by the other clans. ALSO, as NPCs, players can invent and control other members of clan stonecutter as they wish. So if you want to invent a wavering lieutenant of Aigoth's who will defect to your side- you may! just be reasonable- he shouldnt command all of the Stonecutter armies. The point is to maintain the High Queen as a force to be reckoned with.
@Flagg
I've been lurking the interest check for this for quite awhile, and finally decided to poke my head into the OOC and express interest. This sheet is a first draft, so there might be a few issues so far (if so, inform me of any issues you have) and things are still being finalized for her.
The bio is also in the works, though the gist of the first draft of it I have in mind is that she's basically a lone straggler that has grown overly fond of the dark over the last few years, and now struggles to get herself by via slipping out of the darkness below to the surface to get hold of necessities, along with drugs to space herself out. Including the Atlas you've introduced. Perhaps I can add some life to those who come and occasionally remain below San Judas, along with the strung out kids that just come there to do their thing. Every city has their rats, after all. And having low-living people like them can be handy when things need to be done, or information needs to be gathered.
Was also considering a spiritual presence within the abandoned stations; Something that comforts the inhabitants, but makes them paranoid of the outside world, perhaps a bit crazy, too. I haven't thought too deeply into that yet, and it might just be something I develop along the way, if at all.
Here's the CS so far:
I like it, exactly the creepy off kilter vibe we're going for! Fits perfectly with the plot I have in mind.
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