@EldarionI Yeah, it'll be a shorter post.
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@Flightless_Soul And the plot thickens! Again!
@Flightless_Soul @EldarionI
Saga let a small grin escape. He had to play the part. If he showed his hand too soon, he was worried about what would happen next. Luckily, he was no stranger to these games.
There were two kinds of danger. The first was the direct, life-threatening kind. When you’re about to fight a man to the death, your heart races. Energy pumps through your veins, aching for you to make the first move; either ending the threat with a decisive strike, or forcing you to run and fight another day. In short, you know what confronts you, and you respond accordingly.
Then there was the second kind. To illustrate, imagine yourself in a snowy plain. As far as your eyes can see, there is nothing but white. As your boots crunch the snow and you sink thigh-deep into the cold, you feel something wriggling near your leg. You have no idea what it is, but you kick it away, just in case. Then, a few moments later, you feel more of the wriggling things around both your legs. They’re crawling up, through the holes in your clothes. You feel their scaly skin on your soft flesh.
This woman was the second kind. He wasn’t bad looking, not by a long shot, but a woman such as this could do much better than he. She was the type that princes and kings fawned over, and the type that queens secretly envied. The idea that she would bother with a disgraced knight was an alien one. No, she wanted something out of this. Also, a woman like her would never survive in a city. She'd be raped and killed as soon as she stepped through the gates. That is, unless there was a reason she had survived this long.
Just an idle thought, Saga, but maybe she’s after your gold?
True, he thought. That explains why she was here, with the commoners. An average man wouldn’t think twice if she were to try and seduce him. He’d fall into the snake’s spell as easily as a rat did. However, he was not an average man.
I’m so glad that I could be of use to this dull head of yours.
And this is why I hate the fact that you can read my thoughts.
Oh my, the things you wanted to do to that Oasian girl seventy-three days ago--
Shut up!
All of that happened in the blink of an eye. He had his plan. Now was the time to execute it.
Leaning back in his chair, he made sure to expose his coin purse, which visibly stretched from all the coin inside.
“Would I mind? From a woman like you? Can’t believe you’re actually asking me! Of course! But before we go, let me tell you a little story. Nothing lengthy, just a little misadventure I had with a friend of mine.”
He kept on, not letting her get a word in.
“Now this man, Varkas, he was quite the knight, you see. Handsome fellow, even more than me. On the field, no one could even scratch his armor. He plowed through hordes of Orcs, Dwarves, and Elves like he plowed through his women. The Elves, in particular, knew this. One day, he took in some elvish girl as his slave. It was after one of our raids, and he killed her parents some time during that. Of course, the fool he was, he decided to try and fuck her.”
He took a breath, letting it sink in. Then he continued. “He did. Then he had her go fetch him some ale. He drank it, and little did he know that only one of them would be walking out of his room that night.”
Saga paused, and suddenly leaned forward in his chair, glaring directly into her crimson eyes.
“You head for that door, or the only sword you’ll get this day is this one.”
He unsheathed his steel blade and jolted up from his chair, overturning the table and the empty tankards.
Saga let a small grin escape. He had to play the part. If he showed his hand too soon, he was worried about what would happen next. Luckily, he was no stranger to these games.
There were two kinds of danger. The first was the direct, life-threatening kind. When you’re about to fight a man to the death, your heart races. Energy pumps through your veins, aching for you to make the first move; either ending the threat with a decisive strike, or forcing you to run and fight another day. In short, you know what confronts you, and you respond accordingly.
Then there was the second kind. To illustrate, imagine yourself in a snowy plain. As far as your eyes can see, there is nothing but white. As your boots crunch the snow and you sink thigh-deep into the cold, you feel something wriggling near your leg. You have no idea what it is, but you kick it away, just in case. Then, a few moments later, you feel more of the wriggling things around both your legs. They’re crawling up, through the holes in your clothes. You feel their scaly skin on your soft flesh.
This woman was the second kind. He wasn’t bad looking, not by a long shot, but a woman such as this could do much better than he. She was the type that princes and kings fawned over, and the type that queens secretly envied. The idea that she would bother with a disgraced knight was an alien one. No, she wanted something out of this. Also, a woman like her would never survive in a city. She'd be raped and killed as soon as she stepped through the gates. That is, unless there was a reason she had survived this long.
Just an idle thought, Saga, but maybe she’s after your gold?
True, he thought. That explains why she was here, with the commoners. An average man wouldn’t think twice if she were to try and seduce him. He’d fall into the snake’s spell as easily as a rat did. However, he was not an average man.
I’m so glad that I could be of use to this dull head of yours.
And this is why I hate the fact that you can read my thoughts.
Oh my, the things you wanted to do to that Oasian girl seventy-three days ago--
Shut up!
All of that happened in the blink of an eye. He had his plan. Now was the time to execute it.
Leaning back in his chair, he made sure to expose his coin purse, which visibly stretched from all the coin inside.
“Would I mind? From a woman like you? Can’t believe you’re actually asking me! Of course! But before we go, let me tell you a little story. Nothing lengthy, just a little misadventure I had with a friend of mine.”
He kept on, not letting her get a word in.
“Now this man, Varkas, he was quite the knight, you see. Handsome fellow, even more than me. On the field, no one could even scratch his armor. He plowed through hordes of Orcs, Dwarves, and Elves like he plowed through his women. The Elves, in particular, knew this. One day, he took in some elvish girl as his slave. It was after one of our raids, and he killed her parents some time during that. Of course, the fool he was, he decided to try and fuck her.”
He took a breath, letting it sink in. Then he continued. “He did. Then he had her go fetch him some ale. He drank it, and little did he know that only one of them would be walking out of his room that night.”
Saga paused, and suddenly leaned forward in his chair, glaring directly into her crimson eyes.
“You head for that door, or the only sword you’ll get this day is this one.”
He unsheathed his steel blade and jolted up from his chair, overturning the table and the empty tankards.
@EldarionI Seele is the mind companion, and I didn't change the post; I was going to leave him at the inn originally
Fun fact, I was about halfway through my post when @Flightless_Soul posted, so I decided to thicken the plot a bit.
Saga sat on a rickety chair in the far corner of the Dock Inn, downing a cup of the darkest beer he could get his hands on. His sword was still a bit bloody from his previous job, but he reasoned that a stop at the nearest tavern would help relax his senses. It almost did. As he sipped the last bitter drops from his mug, he reminisced the events of the past day.
Many boys dream of becoming knights, to don their shiny armor and smite the savages who dared oppose their liege. The boys with rich families were the ones who actually became knights. The others, too poor to realize their dream, become mercenaries. Saga knew both lives.
As a knight, you would most likely live a life of luxury, with servants attending your every need, and women knocking at your door to gain your favor. It was a highly political life, as “fellow” knights sought to best him at every turn, whether or not he saw them as his friend or not. Above all else, they were to abide by their code of honor, a chivalric duty that all knights were held up to scrutiny.
Of course, not all knights abided by this code. Saga remembered distinctly that abstinence was a key pillar of the code, and well, any fool with half a mind knew where that led to. Really, it was just a game of who could hide their sins better than others. Saga was one of the losers, and he remembered his loss all too well. It wasn’t lust for a whore that dishonored him, it was love. But they didn’t care. He nearly tipped his mug as he remembered her head rolling from the executioner’s block, ever so slowly.
Then there was the mercenary life. It was… quite different from the pampered lifestyle of the Vangardian Knight. You go to a client that requests your services, whether it be to bolster an army or protect him on his way to the shitter. After the job is done, you get paid. Easy. The pay wasn’t a mile from the pension he received as a knight, but he didn’t have to deal with political bullshit. There was no honor or chivalry among the wicked, and everyone knew and accepted it.
He finished another mug, and found himself thirsting for yet another.
“Hey Hal! Two coin for that ale you’re so bloody proud–”
@Flightless_Soul
His words cut short as a newcomer entered the inn. And my, did she scream beauty. And danger.
Her eyes scanned the tavern, looking for someone. She had a sly eye, like a cat waiting to pounce on a fat rat. She didn’t look as if she was from the area, as she stood out like a sparkling ruby atop a pile of granite. Her eye never landed on him, probably because he was in the darkest corner of the whole inn.
He knew women like her. Back when he was a knight, at least. They could swindle a man’s sword right out of it’s sheath, of course, depending on which sword you were talking about. He knew their games, how they found their targets. It was easy enough to get rid of them, however. All you needed to do was say, “No”. But naturally, that was the most difficult part.
But this one was stranger still. She might have a way with words, but he had a sneaking suspicion that she was in fact more deadly than she seemed. For now, he would watch, and wait.
Oh, you’re catching feelings again, Saga. I can feel it, you know.
Shut up, Seele.
Many boys dream of becoming knights, to don their shiny armor and smite the savages who dared oppose their liege. The boys with rich families were the ones who actually became knights. The others, too poor to realize their dream, become mercenaries. Saga knew both lives.
As a knight, you would most likely live a life of luxury, with servants attending your every need, and women knocking at your door to gain your favor. It was a highly political life, as “fellow” knights sought to best him at every turn, whether or not he saw them as his friend or not. Above all else, they were to abide by their code of honor, a chivalric duty that all knights were held up to scrutiny.
Of course, not all knights abided by this code. Saga remembered distinctly that abstinence was a key pillar of the code, and well, any fool with half a mind knew where that led to. Really, it was just a game of who could hide their sins better than others. Saga was one of the losers, and he remembered his loss all too well. It wasn’t lust for a whore that dishonored him, it was love. But they didn’t care. He nearly tipped his mug as he remembered her head rolling from the executioner’s block, ever so slowly.
Then there was the mercenary life. It was… quite different from the pampered lifestyle of the Vangardian Knight. You go to a client that requests your services, whether it be to bolster an army or protect him on his way to the shitter. After the job is done, you get paid. Easy. The pay wasn’t a mile from the pension he received as a knight, but he didn’t have to deal with political bullshit. There was no honor or chivalry among the wicked, and everyone knew and accepted it.
He finished another mug, and found himself thirsting for yet another.
“Hey Hal! Two coin for that ale you’re so bloody proud–”
@Flightless_Soul
His words cut short as a newcomer entered the inn. And my, did she scream beauty. And danger.
Her eyes scanned the tavern, looking for someone. She had a sly eye, like a cat waiting to pounce on a fat rat. She didn’t look as if she was from the area, as she stood out like a sparkling ruby atop a pile of granite. Her eye never landed on him, probably because he was in the darkest corner of the whole inn.
He knew women like her. Back when he was a knight, at least. They could swindle a man’s sword right out of it’s sheath, of course, depending on which sword you were talking about. He knew their games, how they found their targets. It was easy enough to get rid of them, however. All you needed to do was say, “No”. But naturally, that was the most difficult part.
But this one was stranger still. She might have a way with words, but he had a sneaking suspicion that she was in fact more deadly than she seemed. For now, he would watch, and wait.
Oh, you’re catching feelings again, Saga. I can feel it, you know.
Shut up, Seele.
Gonna add a bit to my character's background in terms of how he reacts to other fantasy races.
Saga Berenike
“What use is a shield if I no longer have anything to protect? I would rather focus on killing with both hands."
Age: 23
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: Curly brown hair, hard face, distant eyes.
Personality: Disgruntled, paranoid, distant. These words, and many more similar terms describe Saga in a fairly accurate way. After deserting his former kingdom, he developed an intense distaste for people who abided by codes of honor, etiquette, and other such rules because he believes that people use these codes to mask their true feelings and manipulate others. Because of his mannerisms, or lack thereof, he usually is not looked upon favorably by the political sort due to his brashness and blunt honesty. The only companion he trusts is the one inside his head.
Backstory: Saga hails from a faraway land, in fact, so far away, that whether one goes north, south, east, or west, it makes no difference in the duration of the unhindered journey. This particular kingdom was known for its Knights; their honor, their chivalric values, and their loyal devotion to the cause. He was one of them: Diligent in his service, unyielding, and a stalwart soldier. However, Saga was betrayed by the very values he had treasured so much. He casted away his shield, no longer content with protecting himself. Instead, he now wields his sword with both hands.
He fought in many wars, beginning as a simple foot-soldier at the age of thirteen. During that time, he fought combatants of many races, and lost many friends to them; Orcs, elves, dwarves, goblins, lizard-folk, even giants, though they were few and far between. It's no mystery that war changes a man. Even if you initially bear no burden against a species it is inevitable that, after a few cuts and gashes, as well as some death, one becomes... uncomfortable when near a former enemy.
Equipment
His old plate armor, once shining with a proud gleam and polish, an armor once thought to be impenetrable by his old enemies, is now dirty, rusted, and worn with age. It holds well against most attacks, but it is still very far from what it used to be.
His sword, a sturdy blade as tall as himself, is the only piece of his equipment he still keeps in relatively good shape. Useful for beating back the opposition, it is just as you would expect from a sword, and often, the ordinary blade is all a soldier needs.
When he was a child, he was given a “mind companion”, a certain voice only he can hear. This voice has a personality of its own, and is meant to act as a “sixth sense”, telling him relative information in regards to his surroundings.
Ooh, I'm interested! Mind if I build a cs?
@Zelosse I apologize, but due to a sudden explosion of tests and essays, I cannot participate in the Rp. Good luck to you all!
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