I'm sorry about my lapse in silence guys. Life took some unexpected turns. But no worries- I'm trying to keep all my stuff locked down! Expect to hear from me today
StoneDogg1 Member
STATUS: Sippin' sujamma since sunrise. 8 yrs ago
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- StoneDogg1 10 yrs ago
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Sippin' sujamma since sunrise.
Bio
I'm not a poor writer, and I'm not a good one. I'm just a guy that writes for fun.
Skyrim is cool. So are grim dark worlds. Warhammer is awesome.
So.. Yeah. Enjoy.
*Drinks from tankard.*
Skyrim is cool. So are grim dark worlds. Warhammer is awesome.
So.. Yeah. Enjoy.
*Drinks from tankard.*
Most Recent Posts
I do feel bad for basically forcing us through the day and/or the interrogation. Sorry Culluket, I didn't mean to god mode your day :/
We can try and do like.. A collab or something where I can edit my post to weave around everyone else's? I left pretty large time gaps so all isn't lost. Sorry about that
"Yes, sir." Another crisp salute to his captain.
Konrad slid his flail into its sheath, bending down to pick up the blunderbuss. A curious piece of machinery, or magic. He shrugged, not really caring which it really was. His heavy crossbow did the job well enough. He didn't need any devil-powered weapons. Standing up, he saw Gerald knee the man in the stomach, handling him as a child would a doll. Gerald's side comment to Kolbe and himself made him narrow his eyes, his lip curling a bit.
"Gerald. I want this man alive, you hear me? The captain said nothing about killing him. We don't need to be killing the smallfolk across the lands. And if he's with the warparty, we need a bargaining chip. People don't pay for damaged goods." He pointed his finger at the man as he talked, his armor clanking as he did so.
No one deserves that shit. Poor sod. I'll have to ask the captain about keeping him as a prisoner.
He shook his head. No need to go turn on fellow knights. He may need them, and they him by the end of this. Sighing, he looked at Kolbe.
"I'm off to burn this. I'll start the main campfire and gather firewood while I'm at it. Might as well make dinner, too. Do you mind pitching the tents? I'd appreciate it." Konrad nodded at the man, then went off to start his nightly chores.
He found the perfect spot. A building, its walls still strong. The shed out back big enough for the horses, not touched by the fire. He scanned the area.
Needs some work. If we had some foot soldiers, we could dig a pit around us and fill it with spikes. I'll work on that soon enough. Maybe.
He smiled to himself. Years ago, he would've leapt at his tasks with gusto. Now he went through the motions, stiff and aching in his joints. He felt every year he had on him. The fire caught, crackling as he added kindling then smaller sticks. He threw on some ruined timber from the attack, recycling some of the already burnt wood. No need to go tearing more houses down. He led his horse over to the shed, tying it up. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure none of the other knights were present.
"There we are, Mr. Hooves. You had a long day." He stroked his horse's muzzle, then hooked up the feed bag and began rubbing her down and cleaning her hooves.
Mr. Hooves was actually a girl horse, but it really didn't matter. He remembered buying her almost a decade and a half ago. A gift for his little girl, at the time. And when your little girl tells you that the name is Mr.Hooves, the name is Mr. Hooves. He cleared the lump from his throat. Dinner needed to be made.
It was a quick meal, some rations boiled over the campfire to make a warming stew. He lit it simmer, looking at the strange elven weapon. When he couldn't find a mark of ownership, or the maker's insignia, he pitched it in the fire, under the pot. He spied the captain, walking over to him.
"Sir. Camp is almost made, and the blunderbuss is being burnt even as we speak." He gave a small salute before continuing.
"A moment of your time sir." He stepped a bit closer.
"I know it isn't my place, but are we going to kill that man? Wouldn't he be more valuable to us alive, rather than dead? He could be telling the truth. I know that in times of war or battle, decisions must be made regardless of how harsh it may seem." Konrad stood straight, stepping back once more.
"That's all, sir. Stew's in the pot. I'll take first watch, if you don't mind."
He retrieved his crossbow, readying it in advance. Any brigands or would-be killers out there would be in for a nasty surprise. He loaded his bolt, then picked up his bowl of stew, silently eating.
I suppose it's a "shoot first and ask questions later" kind of a night.
Konrad slid his flail into its sheath, bending down to pick up the blunderbuss. A curious piece of machinery, or magic. He shrugged, not really caring which it really was. His heavy crossbow did the job well enough. He didn't need any devil-powered weapons. Standing up, he saw Gerald knee the man in the stomach, handling him as a child would a doll. Gerald's side comment to Kolbe and himself made him narrow his eyes, his lip curling a bit.
"Gerald. I want this man alive, you hear me? The captain said nothing about killing him. We don't need to be killing the smallfolk across the lands. And if he's with the warparty, we need a bargaining chip. People don't pay for damaged goods." He pointed his finger at the man as he talked, his armor clanking as he did so.
No one deserves that shit. Poor sod. I'll have to ask the captain about keeping him as a prisoner.
He shook his head. No need to go turn on fellow knights. He may need them, and they him by the end of this. Sighing, he looked at Kolbe.
"I'm off to burn this. I'll start the main campfire and gather firewood while I'm at it. Might as well make dinner, too. Do you mind pitching the tents? I'd appreciate it." Konrad nodded at the man, then went off to start his nightly chores.
He found the perfect spot. A building, its walls still strong. The shed out back big enough for the horses, not touched by the fire. He scanned the area.
Needs some work. If we had some foot soldiers, we could dig a pit around us and fill it with spikes. I'll work on that soon enough. Maybe.
He smiled to himself. Years ago, he would've leapt at his tasks with gusto. Now he went through the motions, stiff and aching in his joints. He felt every year he had on him. The fire caught, crackling as he added kindling then smaller sticks. He threw on some ruined timber from the attack, recycling some of the already burnt wood. No need to go tearing more houses down. He led his horse over to the shed, tying it up. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure none of the other knights were present.
"There we are, Mr. Hooves. You had a long day." He stroked his horse's muzzle, then hooked up the feed bag and began rubbing her down and cleaning her hooves.
Mr. Hooves was actually a girl horse, but it really didn't matter. He remembered buying her almost a decade and a half ago. A gift for his little girl, at the time. And when your little girl tells you that the name is Mr.Hooves, the name is Mr. Hooves. He cleared the lump from his throat. Dinner needed to be made.
It was a quick meal, some rations boiled over the campfire to make a warming stew. He lit it simmer, looking at the strange elven weapon. When he couldn't find a mark of ownership, or the maker's insignia, he pitched it in the fire, under the pot. He spied the captain, walking over to him.
"Sir. Camp is almost made, and the blunderbuss is being burnt even as we speak." He gave a small salute before continuing.
"A moment of your time sir." He stepped a bit closer.
"I know it isn't my place, but are we going to kill that man? Wouldn't he be more valuable to us alive, rather than dead? He could be telling the truth. I know that in times of war or battle, decisions must be made regardless of how harsh it may seem." Konrad stood straight, stepping back once more.
"That's all, sir. Stew's in the pot. I'll take first watch, if you don't mind."
He retrieved his crossbow, readying it in advance. Any brigands or would-be killers out there would be in for a nasty surprise. He loaded his bolt, then picked up his bowl of stew, silently eating.
I suppose it's a "shoot first and ask questions later" kind of a night.
Cole sighed, wrapping his cloak about him tighter. He kicked at a pebble, watching it roll and bounce off other smaller pebbles. He sipped at his beer, cheap and watered down as it was. At least the barkeep served him. And let him sit on the back porch.
You can sit anywhere you want to, Cole. There's nothing that anyone can do about it. Let them whine and pant like the dogs they are. We can silence them for good if they bark to loudly.
Cole made a small noise. "No. I said no." His voice was raspy, reed-thin. "If you try anything-"
You'll what? Cry? Have another panic attack? Please do, I can come out and play then. Face it Cole, YOU are weak. I am strong. Together? Well, you wouldn't be alive if it weren't for me. Aren't you supposed to meet someone?
Cole took another drink. "I don't want to be too early. Similarly, I don't want to be to late. It's.. Either way attracts too much attention. We should show up at the right time. Stay quiet. Learn. Then earn our keep when the time is right."
He stood up, bringing the tankard with him. Knocking on the back door, it swung open. The barkeep was wiping off a mug. "Listen, kid. I like ya n' all but the customers don' really take too kindly t' ya."
"I know. And we're just meeting someone in there. We won't drive away too many people, I promise."
Slaughter him, Cole. Tear his heart out. I can feel his pulse quickening. He's scared of you. Scared of me. Of US.
Cole's head twitched, the barkeep slowly letting him inside, muttering something about these new adventurers. Cole drank the rest of his beer, leaving the tankard on the bar. He noticed the group of people sitting around a table, his new employer one them. Why he had chosen to pick him, he'd never know. Maybe he was just in the right place at the right time. He sidled up to the group.
"We're Cole. I'm sorry if we're a bit.. Late." He looked off to the side as he spoke, not meeting anyone's eyes directly. If anyone tried to look him face on, he'd stare just above and to the right of them.
Yes, that's it Cole. Be nice to them. Lull them into a sense of false security. Easier to maim when they trust you. Give them a winning smile, why don't you? And stop it with all this "We" garbage. If you want me to talk to them so badly, let me out.
It's been days since I've fed.
You can sit anywhere you want to, Cole. There's nothing that anyone can do about it. Let them whine and pant like the dogs they are. We can silence them for good if they bark to loudly.
Cole made a small noise. "No. I said no." His voice was raspy, reed-thin. "If you try anything-"
You'll what? Cry? Have another panic attack? Please do, I can come out and play then. Face it Cole, YOU are weak. I am strong. Together? Well, you wouldn't be alive if it weren't for me. Aren't you supposed to meet someone?
Cole took another drink. "I don't want to be too early. Similarly, I don't want to be to late. It's.. Either way attracts too much attention. We should show up at the right time. Stay quiet. Learn. Then earn our keep when the time is right."
He stood up, bringing the tankard with him. Knocking on the back door, it swung open. The barkeep was wiping off a mug. "Listen, kid. I like ya n' all but the customers don' really take too kindly t' ya."
"I know. And we're just meeting someone in there. We won't drive away too many people, I promise."
Slaughter him, Cole. Tear his heart out. I can feel his pulse quickening. He's scared of you. Scared of me. Of US.
Cole's head twitched, the barkeep slowly letting him inside, muttering something about these new adventurers. Cole drank the rest of his beer, leaving the tankard on the bar. He noticed the group of people sitting around a table, his new employer one them. Why he had chosen to pick him, he'd never know. Maybe he was just in the right place at the right time. He sidled up to the group.
"We're Cole. I'm sorry if we're a bit.. Late." He looked off to the side as he spoke, not meeting anyone's eyes directly. If anyone tried to look him face on, he'd stare just above and to the right of them.
Yes, that's it Cole. Be nice to them. Lull them into a sense of false security. Easier to maim when they trust you. Give them a winning smile, why don't you? And stop it with all this "We" garbage. If you want me to talk to them so badly, let me out.
It's been days since I've fed.
Hey, @LifeInStasis would knights carry ranged weapons? I don't know the stance of Aretan knights and their weaponry assortment. Like, would it be far-fetched to say the Konrad had some sort of blackpowder weapon or are the elf-specific?
Man, the lack of RP on RP servers is sad. It's a dying breed on mmorpgs.
Sorry, I've been working. Will have a post up today. Feel free to post before I do, I'll catch up. Sorry!
Just finished my post. Let me know if there are any grammar errors or spelling errors. It takes more than one pair of eyes to find them lol. Also, Konrad wasn't being mean to Gerald, just busting his balls, like how older guys make fun or the "Young guns" at work.
Konrad rubbed his thighs vigorously, his muscles protesting loudly. They had ridden for hours on end, in increasingly hostile territory. The last village they visited a ma nspat on the road in front of them. He stroked his mustache.
A decade ago, I would have struck that man for his arrogance against the King's men. He shook his head again, his eyes scanning the horizon. He knew that Alonso had travelled far out this time, farther than he normally went.
Last time we found him, it was mere miles from the capital.. This time, I worry for him. It's too far from easy reach... I won't lose him.
Like the captain, Konrad served Alonso since he came into power. He had served his father, too. Although he missed the late king, Alonso was a good lad. He just needed to grow up and accept his duty to his country.
A few hours later, they found the village. The wreckage. It was sickening and infuriating at the same time.
"Falkenberg, those cattle don't look burned. Find out what killed them."
Konrad snapped to attention, straightening and offering crisp salute. "Aye, sir."
He hopped from his horse, walking over to the dead animals. He bent down, knees clicking. He grimaced, and reached towards the beast, turning the corpse about. Aside from the gnaw marks and the peckings of crows and buzzards, he noticed some deep scores in the bone, one rib cracked lengthwise.
It could have been brigands. They sometimes slaughter for sport.. No. They would've took the meat. These scores here.. And here.. These were bolts, from a crossbow. Hastily applied to the poor animals; they must've suffered..
The other beast had swathes of bones simply.. Broken and missing. The skull had a giant hole on one side, a smaller one opposite of it.
Shit. Blunderbuss? Pistol? Bolts are easy to stop. My shield'll do fine. Bullets? Fuck, I knew I should've brought my lucky pair of trousers.
He saw a glint in the dying light under one of the legs. Pulling it out, he swore. "Fucking bolt. Gerald's probably right. Fucking knife-ears."
He spat, slipping the bolt in his belt. Sloppy killers, whoever they were. Standing up, he heard Gerald's war cry, followed by a muffled thump and some cursing. He jogged to the source of noise.
Way too old, Konrad. Why didn't you open up an inn, like the old man said?
His steps faltered, only for a moment. More rooms for Astrid's lovers. God above, please help me so that I don't murder some poor noble one day.
He drew his flail when he reached the scene, the chain rattling. He snorted as he looked at the grungy man. He raised an eyebrow at Gerald. He grinned.
"Hey, Colossus. You think maybe you should ease up on that fuckin' sword? Looks like he can't tell you shit from how hard you shoved it against him. Any farther, and it'll be in his ass."
His face grew grim again, looking at the ruined husk of a village. "And seems you were right, lad. Fuckin' elves did this, mark my words."
These sods probably died as they lived. In abject squalor and filth.
A decade ago, I would have struck that man for his arrogance against the King's men. He shook his head again, his eyes scanning the horizon. He knew that Alonso had travelled far out this time, farther than he normally went.
Last time we found him, it was mere miles from the capital.. This time, I worry for him. It's too far from easy reach... I won't lose him.
Like the captain, Konrad served Alonso since he came into power. He had served his father, too. Although he missed the late king, Alonso was a good lad. He just needed to grow up and accept his duty to his country.
A few hours later, they found the village. The wreckage. It was sickening and infuriating at the same time.
"Falkenberg, those cattle don't look burned. Find out what killed them."
Konrad snapped to attention, straightening and offering crisp salute. "Aye, sir."
He hopped from his horse, walking over to the dead animals. He bent down, knees clicking. He grimaced, and reached towards the beast, turning the corpse about. Aside from the gnaw marks and the peckings of crows and buzzards, he noticed some deep scores in the bone, one rib cracked lengthwise.
It could have been brigands. They sometimes slaughter for sport.. No. They would've took the meat. These scores here.. And here.. These were bolts, from a crossbow. Hastily applied to the poor animals; they must've suffered..
The other beast had swathes of bones simply.. Broken and missing. The skull had a giant hole on one side, a smaller one opposite of it.
Shit. Blunderbuss? Pistol? Bolts are easy to stop. My shield'll do fine. Bullets? Fuck, I knew I should've brought my lucky pair of trousers.
He saw a glint in the dying light under one of the legs. Pulling it out, he swore. "Fucking bolt. Gerald's probably right. Fucking knife-ears."
He spat, slipping the bolt in his belt. Sloppy killers, whoever they were. Standing up, he heard Gerald's war cry, followed by a muffled thump and some cursing. He jogged to the source of noise.
Way too old, Konrad. Why didn't you open up an inn, like the old man said?
His steps faltered, only for a moment. More rooms for Astrid's lovers. God above, please help me so that I don't murder some poor noble one day.
He drew his flail when he reached the scene, the chain rattling. He snorted as he looked at the grungy man. He raised an eyebrow at Gerald. He grinned.
"Hey, Colossus. You think maybe you should ease up on that fuckin' sword? Looks like he can't tell you shit from how hard you shoved it against him. Any farther, and it'll be in his ass."
His face grew grim again, looking at the ruined husk of a village. "And seems you were right, lad. Fuckin' elves did this, mark my words."
These sods probably died as they lived. In abject squalor and filth.
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