He's a member of the City Watch (military police kind of vibe), so he's 'involved', but on a smaller level. Which should make it more interesting to watch them struggle to figure out what exactly is going on XD); the post will make his position a bit clearer, I hope.
Virgil
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Omg, I have it...we make it a pseudo the good-the bad-the ugly situation:
So, assassination takes place, perhaps with a minor riot or some sort of panic caused by the Taja; All three characters end up having to rush out of wherever they are, stopping (perhaps with a few weapons at the ready) in the same alley (XD, actually this is making me think of the scene in Conan The Barbarian, when all three thieves bump into one another in the night). Momentary distrust ensues, or just confusion in general, before they realize that (for some relevant reason) they'll have to at least temporarily work together.
Danger passes, they go their separate ways again, but due to other relevant reasons, they end up having to work together at a later date? It's one hell of a coincidence, but I think it'd be kind of dynamic to have them meet, split, and reunite again. If anything, one character could just force their way into getting another to help them, and then that character could remember that the third has something that could help the party as a whole...at least, for a little while; the alliance should still be shaky enough that the characters *can still split up if they feel disgusted by one another...plus, drama.
(Won't be able to finish the post tonight, but it'll be up by tomorrow afternoon.)
So, assassination takes place, perhaps with a minor riot or some sort of panic caused by the Taja; All three characters end up having to rush out of wherever they are, stopping (perhaps with a few weapons at the ready) in the same alley (XD, actually this is making me think of the scene in Conan The Barbarian, when all three thieves bump into one another in the night). Momentary distrust ensues, or just confusion in general, before they realize that (for some relevant reason) they'll have to at least temporarily work together.
Danger passes, they go their separate ways again, but due to other relevant reasons, they end up having to work together at a later date? It's one hell of a coincidence, but I think it'd be kind of dynamic to have them meet, split, and reunite again. If anything, one character could just force their way into getting another to help them, and then that character could remember that the third has something that could help the party as a whole...at least, for a little while; the alliance should still be shaky enough that the characters *can still split up if they feel disgusted by one another...plus, drama.
(Won't be able to finish the post tonight, but it'll be up by tomorrow afternoon.)
@vFear @Blackfridayrule I'm hooked on whatever Vilĉjo's cooking up, but I'm in the dark for the rest of it; however, given that he seems to have the most going on, why don't we all figure out a few paths for everyone to meet *around him? I don't think they'll group up immediately, but...'soon', relatively speaking.
Also, BBQ Chicken Pizza XD) - but how does the curry work with tomato-sauce?
Post coming in about...3-4 hours? Got a bit more practice-work to get through before I get to it, but I'm definitely feeling up to wrapping up that THRILLING cliffhanger - will Haban walk east...or west? o_OOOO)
Also, BBQ Chicken Pizza XD) - but how does the curry work with tomato-sauce?
Post coming in about...3-4 hours? Got a bit more practice-work to get through before I get to it, but I'm definitely feeling up to wrapping up that THRILLING cliffhanger - will Haban walk east...or west? o_OOOO)
No sane man puts Chicken on a Pizza - HERETIC, BLAAAASPHEMERRRR!
(P.S: Should be able to make another post by this evening.)
(P.S: Should be able to make another post by this evening.)
Good luck and Have fun!
I think every story could use a good smartass XD) - or at the very least, a solid clown.
Personally I think it's always better if you just create a character you like, allowing the possible consequences of that character's interactions to creep up (or just explode outright) as the team starts to come together; Still Haban is...:
...One of many remnants of the final days of the Ten Year War, Haban is a disillusioned guard who is still (somehow) hanging on to the final few threads of life left within him. Crippled, distrusting and somewhat fragile, he maintains an almost allegorical similarity to his motherland - not including his lacking patriotism. A bit of a wild card overall, the second-born-son has very little need to risk himself for much of anything anymore...but that's not to say he lacks a conscience.
I'm thinking on the fly when it comes to Haban's place in the world, so there isn't much I can say about his motherland at the moment; they were willing to throw child-soldiers into the mix in the closing years of the war, and their leadership is more than willing to assassinate one of their own, so...I suppose the best way to sum them up would be: "Soft on the outside, but with an arsenic filling."
...One of many remnants of the final days of the Ten Year War, Haban is a disillusioned guard who is still (somehow) hanging on to the final few threads of life left within him. Crippled, distrusting and somewhat fragile, he maintains an almost allegorical similarity to his motherland - not including his lacking patriotism. A bit of a wild card overall, the second-born-son has very little need to risk himself for much of anything anymore...but that's not to say he lacks a conscience.
I'm thinking on the fly when it comes to Haban's place in the world, so there isn't much I can say about his motherland at the moment; they were willing to throw child-soldiers into the mix in the closing years of the war, and their leadership is more than willing to assassinate one of their own, so...I suppose the best way to sum them up would be: "Soft on the outside, but with an arsenic filling."
Three players is a walk in the park by RP-group standards, so I wouldn't mind the extra company; plus, I'm interested in seeing a third perspective on this crusty, semi-cyberpunk local.
"...Let us not forget the lives cast into stone by the misfortunes of fate - but neither should we dwell upon them as to be beset by the asphyxiating grip of despair; Let us rid ourselves of the guilt and accusations of that distant past - but neither should we feel ashamed of them. We must never forget that it was our loved ones who perished for the cause most righteous, our blood and burials that marred the wastelands and the great, unforgiving dunes - but let those memories remind us that the past is beyond us now. The fountain of life flows on, life grows anew - and though we have lost, we know well how much our sacrifices have gained. If it was not to be, 'twould not have been, and so the end remains the same; Blessings of Mmaro be upon you all, now and ever, and hallowed be his name..."
With this, the speaker withdrew himself from the podium, and to the guttural groan of the throat-hymn the mass arose from their kneeling positions atop the floor; they took with them a plethora of carefully rolled, brightly colored carpets, several dozen pairs of sandals, and a silent, wholesome air of harmony. Conflicting hues bespeckled the crowd as they shuffled on by under the stained-glass visages of adorning saints, soft murmurings rustling among them as they approached the elaborate arches that separated this world from the next, those plastered marvels of engineering that had withheld the sanctity of their sanctuary from decades of the vile, decadent influences of the impure and the unworthy. The righteousness of it all was suffocating - so much so that upon reentry into the sweltering embrace of the outside air, Haban couldn't help but pause to take a long, steady draw upon his electronic pipe; what few vapors he was unable to inhale were quickly repulsed by a sharp, wheezing fit, forcing the youthful decrepit to retrieve a wrinkled handkerchief from his pocket in a vain attempt to contain the reaction. His metal hand glistened in the sun with each digit's individual articulation as they cupped around his convulsing mouth - and though he closed one eye out of habit, the metallic gaze of the other gleamed on with a paranoid frenzy.
By the time his 'episode' had run its course, the steps outside of the cathedral were stark - save for the bottom-most, up from which stared a peculiarly inquisitive young man. Older than Haban, he seemed to embody everything the cane-touting, pipe-smoking, half-dead deadweight *could have been...perhaps...in another life: Strong, tall, with with wavy black hair slicked back from a light-hazel brow and a placid expression of empathy. If only he'd been born a few years earlier...
"...Those things'll come back to haunt you faster than you know it, bro."
The young man's lips -still somewhat quivering- slipped around the glinting metal of his pipe's mouthpiece as its electronic bowl glowed with a sickly orange hue: "...Death's waited on me for years - he can afford wait a little longer while I enjoy my pastime; maybe more, ifh Ih chen gehth-thishh lhil' shukker uhpgrahyded." He rapped the wooden cane across the 'shin' of his articulated replacement with a fragile smile, pipe clenched firmly between his teeth, and his bald, tan head shimmering under the voracious heat of the midday sun. Telsin just shook his head, waved, and headed down the dusty, hob-cobbled lane of archaic sandstone and scrapmetal windows. Reminded of his own obligations to the watch, Haban quickly staggered off in the opposite direction; the alien hum of his electronic hip, knee and ankle joints made for somewhat talkative company along the way.
With this, the speaker withdrew himself from the podium, and to the guttural groan of the throat-hymn the mass arose from their kneeling positions atop the floor; they took with them a plethora of carefully rolled, brightly colored carpets, several dozen pairs of sandals, and a silent, wholesome air of harmony. Conflicting hues bespeckled the crowd as they shuffled on by under the stained-glass visages of adorning saints, soft murmurings rustling among them as they approached the elaborate arches that separated this world from the next, those plastered marvels of engineering that had withheld the sanctity of their sanctuary from decades of the vile, decadent influences of the impure and the unworthy. The righteousness of it all was suffocating - so much so that upon reentry into the sweltering embrace of the outside air, Haban couldn't help but pause to take a long, steady draw upon his electronic pipe; what few vapors he was unable to inhale were quickly repulsed by a sharp, wheezing fit, forcing the youthful decrepit to retrieve a wrinkled handkerchief from his pocket in a vain attempt to contain the reaction. His metal hand glistened in the sun with each digit's individual articulation as they cupped around his convulsing mouth - and though he closed one eye out of habit, the metallic gaze of the other gleamed on with a paranoid frenzy.
By the time his 'episode' had run its course, the steps outside of the cathedral were stark - save for the bottom-most, up from which stared a peculiarly inquisitive young man. Older than Haban, he seemed to embody everything the cane-touting, pipe-smoking, half-dead deadweight *could have been...perhaps...in another life: Strong, tall, with with wavy black hair slicked back from a light-hazel brow and a placid expression of empathy. If only he'd been born a few years earlier...
"...Those things'll come back to haunt you faster than you know it, bro."
The young man's lips -still somewhat quivering- slipped around the glinting metal of his pipe's mouthpiece as its electronic bowl glowed with a sickly orange hue: "...Death's waited on me for years - he can afford wait a little longer while I enjoy my pastime; maybe more, ifh Ih chen gehth-thishh lhil' shukker uhpgrahyded." He rapped the wooden cane across the 'shin' of his articulated replacement with a fragile smile, pipe clenched firmly between his teeth, and his bald, tan head shimmering under the voracious heat of the midday sun. Telsin just shook his head, waved, and headed down the dusty, hob-cobbled lane of archaic sandstone and scrapmetal windows. Reminded of his own obligations to the watch, Haban quickly staggered off in the opposite direction; the alien hum of his electronic hip, knee and ankle joints made for somewhat talkative company along the way.
vFear might have a chance yet, but we'll see XD). I'll finish up reading that new post, and then it'll be off to the drawing-board!
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