The post will be up today, so calm thyselves before the blood pressure gets too high.
Jb Member
Because we're here lad
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Vampiretwilight,
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2 yrs ago
"STOP. QUOTING. ME." Jb, 2019, quoted in 2022." Roland, 2022, quoted in 2022.
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5 yrs ago
STOP. QUOTING. ME.
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5 yrs ago
Gone fishing for a week, will return soon.
5 yrs ago
Happy New Year!
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5 yrs ago
Merry Yuletide, one and all! Gods bless.
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Bio
Greetings,
I am Jb; Briton by birth, roleplayer by my own hand, and lover of literature. I am also an amateur historian, a receiver of a Bachelors degree in Ancient and Medieval History - quite a useless degree, actually - and would like to think that I'm a fair, honest and open guy.
As far as RP'ing goes, I'm pretty open to most things really, all you need to do is ask! :)
So, if you've ever any questions for me, wish to speak about RP's involving myself or run by myself, or simply feel like a chat, don't be afraid to get in touch.
I am Jb; Briton by birth, roleplayer by my own hand, and lover of literature. I am also an amateur historian, a receiver of a Bachelors degree in Ancient and Medieval History - quite a useless degree, actually - and would like to think that I'm a fair, honest and open guy.
As far as RP'ing goes, I'm pretty open to most things really, all you need to do is ask! :)
So, if you've ever any questions for me, wish to speak about RP's involving myself or run by myself, or simply feel like a chat, don't be afraid to get in touch.
Most Recent Posts
I'm more than happy for folks to simply say they're 'opting pig's for this round, if they so wish. As long as they tell me. I can then move things along without making things harder for people.
My next post will more-or-less be an answering of questions, a thanks to all those willing to die, the night rolling in (more character interactions/off to bed, as you will) and then proceeding to the next day.
So, post as you wish and, once that's done, I shall proceed.
My next post will more-or-less be an answering of questions, a thanks to all those willing to die, the night rolling in (more character interactions/off to bed, as you will) and then proceeding to the next day.
So, post as you wish and, once that's done, I shall proceed.
<Snipped quote by Jb>
Channeling Elrond I see
For legal and copyright reasons, I have no idea to what you refer.
@POOHEAD189@TyrannosaursRex@The Wyrm@Blueskin@Penny@Dusty@BangoSkank
Alright then,
Now is the time for questions, pretty much whatever you like within reason and possibility to answer, as well as for further character interaction as you so wish.
Feel free to ask me (as GM) any questions as well, if you're unsure of anything.
This has been where some of my RPs have gotten bogged down in the past, but with you fantatisch people I don't forsee it being a problem.
Alright then,
Now is the time for questions, pretty much whatever you like within reason and possibility to answer, as well as for further character interaction as you so wish.
Feel free to ask me (as GM) any questions as well, if you're unsure of anything.
This has been where some of my RPs have gotten bogged down in the past, but with you fantatisch people I don't forsee it being a problem.
@POOHEAD189@TyrannosaursRex@The Wyrm@Blueskin@Penny@Dusty@BangoSkank
The evening sky had well and truly opened by the time the son of Malgrim nearly smashed a thick oak tavern door off of its hinges, thick, round droplets hammering down onto the township of Schartenfeld like the tears of weeping gods; by this time all decent folk of the Imperial burh had esconced themselves safely and securely within the four walls of their dwellings - at least those who had that luxury - as strong or flimsy as that may be.
There is always an exception to the rule though, and it was at this point that another figure slipped into the Maw, fresh on the heels of Burungi and his rather ill-advised comments. News travels swiftly you see, and the arrival of a Bretonnian bearing a half-dead youth had piqued the interest and curiousity of many. They came like an elusive shadow, slipping through the half-closed door and into the drying warmth of the tavern of ill-repute, sweeping aside the lower regions of a waterproofed cloak and taking a seat nearby the group that crowded the boy purposefully or not.
Meanwhile, across the room and working as swiftly as he could alongside his beautiful wife, Davor could only give his broad head a shake and release a sigh while he wiped clean another glass. He had been speaking to himself at the doorway, but it did seem that Sigmar - or some more devious deity - had been listening to his words; tonight had seen more interesting individuals come through the door of the place than he had ever seen before!
It was as he looked around at the faces and races that he caught the one good eye of the newcomer, the man who had just entered and pulled down his hood to reveal a face more horrifying than even that of the annoying Halfling.
He must have been six-feet-and-four in height if he was an inch, two broad shoulders supporting a bearing and a back that could only be that of a soldier or other professional, one hand covered in the mass of scarring caused by burning flesh while the other apeared untouched.
The face was what caused unease the most though, a pale-skinned face with a right-eyed empty socket and a left eye of glacial blue, the left-hand side of the man's face showing a jaw that had become infected during childhood, only to fuse together and give the man's visage a distinct and lopsided look.
Clearly he noticed the proprietor looking, turning the one good to Dovar for but a moment, exchanging a look that caused the barkeep to return swiftly to his duties as the owner of the Maw.
"Ladies, gentlemen and strangers from distant lands," rumbled the newcomer as he stood from his seat, drawing his cloak back to reveal simple but stout peasant clothing - a coarse doublet over a pair of pantaloons in the red, white and green of Schartenfeld - as well as a dagger at his hip, "may I have you attention for a moment," when some distasteful looks were thrown his way from the hearth he could only shrug, "I am certain the child will be fine for the moment."
Rising to his full height, he placed one hand on the table next to which he stood, and with another withdrew a scrap of parchment upon which was written a noble-looking scrawl and from which dangled a wax mayoral seal.
"My name is Johan Sebastian Bock, and I hold in my hand a letter from the Mayor which tells me two things and asks but one. It tells me that the magic-wielders in our service already knew you would all be here this night, perhaps not specifically, but that this would be a fine time for me to make myself present here and now. It also tells me to tell any interested party the very possible reason that this child now lays here before us."
Without a word Davor placed a flagon at the man's table, returning behind the bar to find the strongest alcohol for their only Dwarfish customer in the meantime, his hackles risen by all this talk of 'magic' and 'being here' - it was all too much for a simple tavern keep like himself, for the moment.
"While my lord Mayor does keep his own militia, indeed we have the finest militia in this part of Reikland, there have been disappereances in the course of the last month of so."
Pausing briefly, he plucked the flagon up and took a long draught, some of the liquid slipping from his misshapen mouth and onto his doublet even as he continued to slurred speech and sucking breath.
"Brigands and highwaymen have often been a problem, travellers robbed or killed on the roads hereabouts, but recently it had become more than just single travellers or wandering pilgrims. Entire caravans have gone missing without a trace, clearly overcome by a well organised group of assailants, from merchants to simple farm folk, and now we are in desperate straits... yes we are."
Another tossing back of the flagon and it was empty, a sleeve dragged across the mouth and followed by a belch.
"That is why I am here, and why I ask now if there are any among you that consider yourselves fit to do what our militia could not. To achieve, for rightful payment in coin and reputation, the location and rescue of captives and survivors, and the destuction of those that have taken them."
Spreading his arms wide, he gave what on any other face would have been considered a look of honesty and openness, but now came across more as one of a man trying to give that look to those he had interupted and asked to fight and possibly die for a not-entirely-known reason, and for an unknown Mayor and town.
"I am obliged, of course, to answer any questions you may have - and you are well within rights to say no to the offer - but, if I have judged the room correct, there will be fewer questions and more acceptance."
The evening sky had well and truly opened by the time the son of Malgrim nearly smashed a thick oak tavern door off of its hinges, thick, round droplets hammering down onto the township of Schartenfeld like the tears of weeping gods; by this time all decent folk of the Imperial burh had esconced themselves safely and securely within the four walls of their dwellings - at least those who had that luxury - as strong or flimsy as that may be.
There is always an exception to the rule though, and it was at this point that another figure slipped into the Maw, fresh on the heels of Burungi and his rather ill-advised comments. News travels swiftly you see, and the arrival of a Bretonnian bearing a half-dead youth had piqued the interest and curiousity of many. They came like an elusive shadow, slipping through the half-closed door and into the drying warmth of the tavern of ill-repute, sweeping aside the lower regions of a waterproofed cloak and taking a seat nearby the group that crowded the boy purposefully or not.
Meanwhile, across the room and working as swiftly as he could alongside his beautiful wife, Davor could only give his broad head a shake and release a sigh while he wiped clean another glass. He had been speaking to himself at the doorway, but it did seem that Sigmar - or some more devious deity - had been listening to his words; tonight had seen more interesting individuals come through the door of the place than he had ever seen before!
It was as he looked around at the faces and races that he caught the one good eye of the newcomer, the man who had just entered and pulled down his hood to reveal a face more horrifying than even that of the annoying Halfling.
He must have been six-feet-and-four in height if he was an inch, two broad shoulders supporting a bearing and a back that could only be that of a soldier or other professional, one hand covered in the mass of scarring caused by burning flesh while the other apeared untouched.
The face was what caused unease the most though, a pale-skinned face with a right-eyed empty socket and a left eye of glacial blue, the left-hand side of the man's face showing a jaw that had become infected during childhood, only to fuse together and give the man's visage a distinct and lopsided look.
Clearly he noticed the proprietor looking, turning the one good to Dovar for but a moment, exchanging a look that caused the barkeep to return swiftly to his duties as the owner of the Maw.
"Ladies, gentlemen and strangers from distant lands," rumbled the newcomer as he stood from his seat, drawing his cloak back to reveal simple but stout peasant clothing - a coarse doublet over a pair of pantaloons in the red, white and green of Schartenfeld - as well as a dagger at his hip, "may I have you attention for a moment," when some distasteful looks were thrown his way from the hearth he could only shrug, "I am certain the child will be fine for the moment."
Rising to his full height, he placed one hand on the table next to which he stood, and with another withdrew a scrap of parchment upon which was written a noble-looking scrawl and from which dangled a wax mayoral seal.
"My name is Johan Sebastian Bock, and I hold in my hand a letter from the Mayor which tells me two things and asks but one. It tells me that the magic-wielders in our service already knew you would all be here this night, perhaps not specifically, but that this would be a fine time for me to make myself present here and now. It also tells me to tell any interested party the very possible reason that this child now lays here before us."
Without a word Davor placed a flagon at the man's table, returning behind the bar to find the strongest alcohol for their only Dwarfish customer in the meantime, his hackles risen by all this talk of 'magic' and 'being here' - it was all too much for a simple tavern keep like himself, for the moment.
"While my lord Mayor does keep his own militia, indeed we have the finest militia in this part of Reikland, there have been disappereances in the course of the last month of so."
Pausing briefly, he plucked the flagon up and took a long draught, some of the liquid slipping from his misshapen mouth and onto his doublet even as he continued to slurred speech and sucking breath.
"Brigands and highwaymen have often been a problem, travellers robbed or killed on the roads hereabouts, but recently it had become more than just single travellers or wandering pilgrims. Entire caravans have gone missing without a trace, clearly overcome by a well organised group of assailants, from merchants to simple farm folk, and now we are in desperate straits... yes we are."
Another tossing back of the flagon and it was empty, a sleeve dragged across the mouth and followed by a belch.
"That is why I am here, and why I ask now if there are any among you that consider yourselves fit to do what our militia could not. To achieve, for rightful payment in coin and reputation, the location and rescue of captives and survivors, and the destuction of those that have taken them."
Spreading his arms wide, he gave what on any other face would have been considered a look of honesty and openness, but now came across more as one of a man trying to give that look to those he had interupted and asked to fight and possibly die for a not-entirely-known reason, and for an unknown Mayor and town.
"I am obliged, of course, to answer any questions you may have - and you are well within rights to say no to the offer - but, if I have judged the room correct, there will be fewer questions and more acceptance."
@POOHEAD189@TyrannosaursRex@The Wyrm@Blueskin@Penny@Dusty@BangoSkank
Righto, this is your ALERT MESSAGE, as I shall be making another post likely tomorrow; if you wish to carry on exchanges then please do, just leave the Boy where he is.
Excellent posts so far, really enjoying reading them all!
@POOHEAD189 You can either present the brigand yourself in a post and move along, or I can include you and Cartman in my next post, up to you my good man.
Righto, this is your ALERT MESSAGE, as I shall be making another post likely tomorrow; if you wish to carry on exchanges then please do, just leave the Boy where he is.
Excellent posts so far, really enjoying reading them all!
@POOHEAD189 You can either present the brigand yourself in a post and move along, or I can include you and Cartman in my next post, up to you my good man.
@POOHEAD189 Schartenfeld does have a gaol and a city watch/militia, so feel free to sling him in there - there is currently no reward, but you may well ask the Mayor when he eventually turns up at the Maw. As for Johann, well, I'll keep him in my NPC pocket.
@Dusty Excellent post, are you sure you're not a Bretonnian knight in reality?
@Penny@The Wyrm
I guess it's between whichever of you wishes to care for the boy, now set down by the common rooms central hearth, as you're both in the tavern after all.
As to the boy himself, he's obviously malnourished - skinny even before captivity in the woods - as well as mentally scarred by what he has been forced to experience. Except for a number of bruises over his body, and multiple cuts and grazes from his flight through the forest, he is otherwise surprisingly unharmed.
There is also probably no way you'll be able to wake him for any extent of time, minus to give small quantities of food and drink, and thus currently will be getting no answers.
After we've figured this out, I'll probably get another post up and tie some threads together.
@Penny@The Wyrm
I guess it's between whichever of you wishes to care for the boy, now set down by the common rooms central hearth, as you're both in the tavern after all.
As to the boy himself, he's obviously malnourished - skinny even before captivity in the woods - as well as mentally scarred by what he has been forced to experience. Except for a number of bruises over his body, and multiple cuts and grazes from his flight through the forest, he is otherwise surprisingly unharmed.
There is also probably no way you'll be able to wake him for any extent of time, minus to give small quantities of food and drink, and thus currently will be getting no answers.
After we've figured this out, I'll probably get another post up and tie some threads together.
Could someone's character pick him up off the road and bring him to the tavern?
Also, could we use a alert system, say a few hours before you plan on posting leave a heads up here in the OOC so the other writers know not to change the set pieces or move an NPC, stuff like that? Just to keep us from pulling the rug out from beneath one another.
I will indeed use your proposed alert system, sounds like a darned good idea.
As for the boy, I was going to have the Mayor bring him in, but if you should so wish to abduct him from the road... sure, just make sure everyone else knows that your character is kidnapping him.
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