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

Ha! Where on earth did I get the Tilean idea?

@Blueskin

No idea, but his name is Catalan and not Italian...perhaps you got the two mixed up?

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

<Snipped quote by Drinky>

As Gotrek Gurnisson said: "Mankind is the same everywhere. Only the hats are different."

@POOHEAD189

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

@Blueskin@Laduguer@POOHEAD189@Andreyich@Drinky@Dusty@Lucian

Btw Severo, if you read the post, is Estalian and not Tilean, you racists! He'd be quite offended to be called such.

Warhammer 40K: Knives in the Dark - An Only War/Guard RP

@AdvancedJ3lly It IS quiet, that's why I'll get us moving tomorrow - or Monday. This will require participation by you guys as well, so I hope you're not all gone.

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

@Blueskin@Lucian@Dusty@Drinky@Andreyich@POOHEAD189@TJByrum@Laduguer

"I have been going horse for long time, and I vant vodka after travel. You can provide, da? If you have, then a round of it for everyone on me!" He said, with a wave of a slightly damp fist. He leaned a bit closer to the barkeep presumably after the last interaction was done and said "I vant to kno' if there is vork here. Good vork, something long lasting with decent pay, for someone that can fight and has... special talents." It was right to the point, but such was the way of the Gospodar folk.

Oh Gods... Thought Ludolf silently to himself ...a bloody Kislevite.

After exchanging coin with the greybeard sat at the bar and handing him a pint flagon of Zhufbar Ale – not as uncommon, even here, as the Dwarfs craggy features showed he believed – the tavern proprietor gave a small chuckle at the rebuke from the clearly experienced warrior and turned his attention back to the apparently presumptuous snow-dweller.

“Look northerner, I have vodka if you are willing to pay up coin to buy it, if not then you stop offering drinks to everyone in this place. We do not give out drink for free in the Empire...and by the looks of all here, well, I'd say you owe about nine crowns at least. You have that money, do you?”

It wasn't that the former soldier disliked the pale Kislevite, he was just not one to part with his stock for anything less than a fair price; as for the Hochlander, he didn't even look old enough to drink.

“As for work, well, he should be here any minute.”

************

Severo Emigdio the One-Eyed hauled his skeletal frame along the road with as much energy as he could muster, huffing and puffing to himself all the while, muttering in Estalian and wishing he had never become a 'party' of the Guild all those decades ago. It was quite a boring tale really, and short; he had made his way to the misty isle of Albion, discovered a jewel the size of his own head, and taken it from beneath the gaze of a mentally deficient giant! True, it had taken right eye, but in the end the wealth that had come from the jewel had been worth a singular eye and allowed him to buy his way into the lower hierarchy of the Guild.

Now, as he visibly sweltered beneath the colourful red cloak and inside the green tunic and hose he wore, he cursed that ruby to the Underworld and back.

The Estalian certainly did not look the 'sellsword' type, and indeed he was not, if anything he was a huge fluke, and his gaunt appearance and slicked back black hair did nothing to give him any form of martial air possessed by some. At five feet and seven inches he was of average height for one with decent nutrition, the cane he held in one spindly hand and supported himself upon with a silver top in the shape of an Estalian galleon, and the general clothing he wore showing him as a man of wealth but not of war.

Across his chest was a broad leather strap, supporting an entire collection of writing equipment inside a leather satchel, these were – for the moment – the tools of his trade; for he was a recruiter for the Guild, and all that that entailed.

“Estupid calor,” he growled as he eyed the pathway leading into the open space before him, his head rising to see the exterior of the Nag before him, “Finalment, estic aquí.”

Urging his lanky legs to carry him the rest of the way, he half-fell through the doorway of the tavern – barely avoiding the Elf and gaggle of Dwarfs milling about not far from the entrance – righting himself with all the composure he could muster and walking to his regular table in the farthest corner of the place.

On this day he sat as far away from the fire as he could, giving Ludolf a curt nod to let the Reiklander know he was here, and arranging on the tabletop his implements with skilled and practised motions; a quill, parchment, an inkwell and so forth.

“Please, ladies and gentlemen, may I hath your attention!” He intoned loudly, standing from his seat and opening his arms wide, “any and all seeking work with the Guild shall see me in their own time, one at a time. Pleath enjoy yourselves until then.”

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

REET, I'll give everyone a wee bit more time to get their conversations done with, then I'll move us along. Probably Tuesday or Wednesday. I also recommend that, if speaking to another character, you tag them.

Warhammer 40k: Enemy Without, Enemy Within - an 'Ecclesiarchal' RP [Mature][High Casual/Low Advanced]

@Legion X51 Write a sheet, give us a look, and we'll see.

Warhammer 40k: Enemy Without, Enemy Within - an 'Ecclesiarchal' RP [Mature][High Casual/Low Advanced]

@jbeil Soon - I'm working all week, so it could possibly be as late as Monday. Hopefully not, but could be.

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

@Andreyich Who?

@Dusty I actually don't think Monty Python could have done any better with the French accent...I had a hearty chortle indeed.

Warhammer 40k: The Eternal Fight for Freedom - Penal Legion RP (Looking for cannon fodder!)

@Drunken Conquistador@Laduguer@Amaranth@DeadDrop@Blueskin

Ioanus Secundus, how had they landed on this shithole planet?

Months had passed since Eighth squads first live-fire exercise, the wall of muscle that was Sergeant Mason remaining with them throughout, up to, and including participating in their first deployment to this so-called 'Civilised World'; Ioanus Secundus was a former colony world of the Imperium that had been allowed to grow organically from the ground up, the faith of its citizens strong as iron...until his arrival.

He had come as an off-world traveller, a trader in ideologies and philosophies that seemed strange and exotic to say the least, the planets rulers - and the Planetary Governor to boot - being each of them wise enough to know when something was amiss. Slowly but surely the rot of something foul took root on the planet, riots and revolts against the rightful rule of the Imperium springing up in any number of cities across the planets face, strange symbols being daubed on the very walls of Arbites precincts, and folk going missing in the night only to be found later without certain organs or limbs.

It was when a forceful investigation was made by the Arbites into rumours of cult gatherings that the planet erupted in turmoil, the capital city of Pitchpoint becoming ground zero for a revolution in the name of the Ruinous Powers, and only then did the Planetary Governor send word via astropath out into the wider Imperium with a request for help.

Ioanus Secundus was not a particularly high priority planet in general, but the taint of Chaos could not be allowed to spread, and so an Imperial Expeditionary Force was assembled - it included two dozen or so regiments of the Imperial Guard, a small contingent of white-clad Astartes from the Absolvers Chapter, and enough armour to level entire districts.

Included within their number were, of course, the Eighth Squad of the First Redemption Penal Legion under Arbitrator Kenelm and Sergeant Mason.

What had begun as an open attack across the planets main, and most heavily inhabited, continent had soon become bogged down and turned into trench warfare. It is here, some miles south-west of Pitchpoint, that the First Redemption in their full strength were about to be awoken in a most ungracious manner.

************

"Alright, everybody up!" Came the booming voice of Mason, his red bandanna clearly visible through the plastic sheeting that covered each dugout - a shining beacon of military style in a grey and dreary war - the man himself wearing little more than a vest and his usual combat trousers and boots, "there's more digging to be done today, so don't slack on me, ye hear?!"

A week they had been where they were, the Eighth Squad of a regiment consigned to death or redemption in the God-Emperor's glorious name, digging their own section of the overall trench network like the slaves that they honestly were. They may not have been servitors, but they weren't far off. Meanwhile Kenelm had been in meetings with the other Arbitrators of the Penal Legion, as well as the High Command, and things were not looking good.

If reports were anything to go by, they'd be making contact soon enough...

PLEASE READ

Right, so...

We're in a trench facing some other trenches across No Man's Land; feel free to describe as more or as little as you like about the whys and wherefores of getting there, how your character is doing/feels, and so forth. Have them moan a bit, get some breakfast in their dugout, whatever you like really - death will come soon enough.

@Blueskin, I recommend you take this opportunity to get Waldo introduced to and bunked up with Eighth Squad, before the real action begins.

I'd just like to apologise that it had taken this long to write something, and I have no excuse, but if you're all with me and willing to carry on then so am I!