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The Technconsortium Troll Open, Open(ish) RP |
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Dwilf |
Oct 13 2006, 03:05 PM
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PW Programmer
Group: PW Developer
Posts: 165
Joined: 25-January 05
Member No.: 436
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OOC: This is the intro for a RP I'm considering running. I plan on it being a story heavy RP with decent length posts and a slow pace. PCs will preferably be Human, Dwarf, Elf or Gnome and they won't be members of the Guild(Technconsortium). If you are interested or want to comment reply, PM me or find me on IRC. If there is enough interest I'll work on fleshing out the plot and (NP)characters then kicking it off to allow PCs to be introduced. Here goes...
Mistysprings was a two day boat trip through the swamp if your pilot knew the way. Boats that got lost could be gone for months, if they ever made it back to Mar'Vellis at all. The Technconsortium owned Mistysprings, a Guild Town named for the fact it was built in the middle of a mist-enshrouded freshwater lake deep in the swamps.
Floating circular platforms of varying size were connected by bridges and small boats. The wood was proofed against rot by alchemical means and most were riddled with various inventions to make life better. Farms, harb gardens, larger docks and visitor quarters were situated on these constructions. The solid land at the centre if the town was guild only residances and workshops. Security was tight and violators of guild law dealt with swiflty. The Technoconsortium considered itself the best collections of minds as far as many crafts went. Strict tests on ones mental faculties were required for even the lowest posts. Members of most races could try for membership but Gnomes held the majority. The guild retained a neutral stance and denied any alliance, they were too remote and useful for any power to contest this freedom. Their healing branch would treat anybody in need for the right price and they possesed some of the most advanced medicines, some rivaling even magical healing.
The town was beautiful in a gnomish sort of way, the distant shores of the lake blurred by the grently rolling mists. The Swamp Dweller's barge had docked on a Guild jetty, the supplies he had overseen in Mar'Vellis were already dissapearing into the guild storehouses. Booted feet tapped the dark treated wood of the floating docks as a Cog of Town Guard patroled the platform. Sixteen guards in uniforms of boiled leather armour made up a Town Guard Cog, the First Tooth in command with a Second to help or take over as the situation demanded. All sixteen teeth had powerfull crossbows of guild design and a short sword and shield for closer trouble.
The Swamp Dweller smilled at the gnome sent to meet him. Bushkie Shadowsproket was in her unmarked uniform of Flexi-Hide and fine chain. The suit caused minimum hinderance to movement and the treated hide and metal was very resistant to being cut through. It was coloured in dark greys and blues, the metal dulled so as not to reflect light. Many pouches were secured to a waist belt from which hung two tiny Dart Launchers. A spiked mace hung across her back and an assortment of blades ranging from long knives to razor-wire garrots were present about her person. "Two days until the Open begins Swamp, we've already got reports of barges approaching with participants on board." chirped the gnome. "Come along for some dinner, Malcam will be pleased to see you." Bushkie's voice was full of energy, mangaging to sound squeaky and mature at the same time. Swamp fell in beside her as they made thier way to the Guild Town. "The visitor quarters will be very busy soon." he observed. Bushkie grinned knowingly, the Open was a great annual troll hunt. Adventurers could make a name for themselves, the troll popualtion was cut back and the guild was able to fill thier labs with troll blood and other useful ingrediants obtianed from the regenerating beasts.
The Swamp Dweller was looking forward to catching up with Malcam, Bushkie's alchemist husband who as a high ranking Poison Brewer. They were are good match his two gnomish friends, Malcam's poisons were employed by many Dusk Cogs, the guilds scouts, spys and assiassins. Bushkie as First Tooth of her Dusk Cog, five other skilled individuals making up the team of six. Swamp smiled at the thought, a Dusk Cog may have ten less teeth than a Town Guard Cog but it was by far the more deadly. So deceptive these gnomes.
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Dwilf - Project Wish Tool Coder "A Knife in the Dark is worth a thousand Swords at Dawn" RP or die trying
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joshpurple |
Nov 6 2006, 03:16 AM
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PW Artist
Group: PW Developer
Posts: 790
Joined: 3-July 06
Member No.: 613
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A 17 year old human, standing over six feet tall & skinny as a rail, watched as the boat came to port and the passengers moved onto the dock of the Pitcher O' Peat tavern. Nilrem had a youthful 'stubbly' beard, long messy brown hair, squinty eyes, and a long nose with a bump on it. Not a warrior type, and not the dashing lad, Nilrem was a great fan of magic.
Nilrem had been in Mistysprings only one day, but he had heard of the gnomes and their studies with magic here. Of course, he could not help but to see all of the activity surrounding the start of the Troll Open, he actually enjoyed seeing the excitement. His hope would be to find a gnome who might be able to teach him some magic. Nilrem had always enjoyed the gnomish sense of humor, and he believed gnomes would be the most open in teaching the arcane arts.
As the passengers exited the boat, Nilrem noticed one sly looking fellow drawing a weapon. Keeping his distance, and not saying a thing, Nilrem followed to see what was going on.
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Dwilf |
Dec 5 2006, 04:49 PM
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PW Programmer
Group: PW Developer
Posts: 165
Joined: 25-January 05
Member No.: 436
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The dwarf knew he was being followed, revealing himself to them men in the tavern had ensured it. A grim smile creased his rough features as thoughts of vengance fueled the anger that has been simmering within his heart for almost a year now. Instincts honed by years of battle alerted him to the attack from behind. He ripped his Dwarvish sword from his belt and flashed it around to bat aside the short sword that was lunging for his back moments before. "You're to be first then ye cowardly mutt." he growled into the face of his assailant. The man attacking him recovered from the unexpected parry and hopped back a few feet to compose himself for a face to face, his stance shifting to allow for defense. The dwarf hefted his weapon into a two-handed grip and set his feet apart for stability. His weapon, a Dwarvish sword, was a cruel looking device. Brightly coloured feathers formed a fetish swaying from base of the leather wrapped hilt; five feet of steel reinforced dark wood made up the stock of the blade, razor sharp blocks of obsidian adorned the edges, dark teeth hungry for blood. The man smirked at archaic looking sword in the dwarf's grip. The dwarf tilted the blade forward and charged...
OOC - For Howlin. The Pitcher o' Peat is a standard tavern, serving wench, barkeep, cook, drunks. Off to the left of the bar is the accommodation office. In here you can rent anything from a single room by the night to a visitor apartment by the week or month. There is a common room where you can sleep for free at your own risk. Rooms and apartments have baths and breakfasts included in the deal.
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Dwilf - Project Wish Tool Coder "A Knife in the Dark is worth a thousand Swords at Dawn" RP or die trying
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Hankellin |
Dec 27 2006, 06:16 AM
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Veteran
Group: Members
Posts: 186
Joined: 11-January 05
Member No.: 72
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Howlin, with the two hounds in tow, walks up to the entrance of the Inn. Before he could push the doors open and enter, the hounds tear from his grasp and race around the corner or the building. Howlin takes of after them and catches up just as the two, muzzled and leashes flapping, slam into a pair of fighting men. Howlin gives a loud whistle and yell and the hounds immediately stop trying to take both men down and return to their master. One is fast enough to exit the fray, but the other is not so fast. A thud of a weapon hitting flesh is heard and the dog gives a muffled cough and spews blood from it's jaws, dropping dead, it's chest cloven open. "No! No! No!" Howlin screams seeing his bright dream crash down as quickly as the hounds blood stains the boards beneath it. With a quick flick of his hand he tears the muzzle off the remaining hound. "Tötung!!!*" Howlin yells pointing at the human as a first target. Howlin pulls two slim knives from the tops of his boots and follows the hound in to try and kill the man. ( Kill* Translated to German courtesy of http://babelfish.yahoo.com/ )
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Original skin by: b6gm6n | Conversion by: Chris Y
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