The Agreement - Revision history

R4d6 at 02:36, 7 February 2024

2024-02-07T02:36:08Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 22:36, 6 February 2024
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	“But, of my trust, you need only ask dear Yaga here if I may be trusted. I will lay such a choice and my fate in her skilled hands.” The sad king giving the so far silent woman a deep bow of his crowned head, his hand rising to stop it from sliding off his bulbous brow. Yaga had been standing next to Herod, interposed between him and the door, her paw-like hands folded behind her back. She was the largest one there, towering at nearly nine feet in height, yet easily and readily forgotten when attention was not drawn to her by another. All eyes turned towards her and Yaga looked as if she was not going to answer, as if being prompted made her spiteful enough to simply refuse and let the three men sort or fight it out. Yet to everyone's surprise she did speak, her voice a calm and velvet tone that, if the men hadn’t known her history, would have guessed her from a more regal background. “We can trust him.” She began, bringing up palms from behind her back to reveal the dagger she had been concealing. “He gave me this when he entered.” The tall woman twirling the blade in her hand while Herod spoke up, “Fucking bullshit he did, I was looking when he came in. You’re so fulla shit.” He lifted a footpaw from the table, his leaning chair coming down to clack against the stone floor. “But, if Yaga says he can be trusted I got no reason to doubt her. Tarkus?” He asked the salamander, the rodentfolk rolling her shoulders as if the matter was already settled.		“But, of my trust, you need only ask dear Yaga here if I may be trusted. I will lay such a choice and my fate in her skilled hands.” The sad king giving the so far silent woman a deep bow of his crowned head, his hand rising to stop it from sliding off his bulbous brow. Yaga had been standing next to Herod, interposed between him and the door, her paw-like hands folded behind her back. She was the largest one there, towering at nearly nine feet in height, yet easily and readily forgotten when attention was not drawn to her by another. All eyes turned towards her and Yaga looked as if she was not going to answer, as if being prompted made her spiteful enough to simply refuse and let the three men sort or fight it out. Yet to everyone's surprise she did speak, her voice a calm and velvet tone that, if the men hadn’t known her history, would have guessed her from a more regal background. “We can trust him.” She began, bringing up palms from behind her back to reveal the dagger she had been concealing. “He gave me this when he entered.” The tall woman twirling the blade in her hand while Herod spoke up, “Fucking bullshit he did, I was looking when he came in. You’re so fulla shit.” He lifted a footpaw from the table, his leaning chair coming down to clack against the stone floor. “But, if Yaga says he can be trusted I got no reason to doubt her. Tarkus?” He asked the salamander, the rodentfolk rolling her shoulders as if the matter was already settled.

	The warlord glanced between the ogre and the lagus, perhaps wanting to ask something before he merely nodded. “Good enough. If we can trust each other then we have only one last problem. Herod here assures me he can get an economy and factory up and running. With your magical power and skills ~~Briaerues~~ you can no doubt begin training and making new mages.” Tarkus said, not using the same honorific most others did when addressed the sad king. “I am lead to believe that all forms of teleportation only work inside here and we are effectively cut off from the outside, that true?” He asked the ogre before the giant returned a nod of affirmation. “Alright then, we’ll be going with Herod’s plan then. We’re going to take the scattered remnants here and form it into something proper, not these scattered gangs and loners. Between his skills, your magic, Yaga’s talents, and my forging ability we can make something, as long as we can trust each other. To do that, we have to take care of our first problem.”		The warlord glanced between the ogre and the lagus, perhaps wanting to ask something before he merely nodded. “Good enough. If we can trust each other then we have only one last problem. Herod here assures me he can get an economy and factory up and running. With your magical power and skills Briareus you can no doubt begin training and making new mages.” Tarkus said, not using the same honorific most others did when addressed the sad king. “I am lead to believe that all forms of teleportation only work inside here and we are effectively cut off from the outside, that true?” He asked the ogre before the giant returned a nod of affirmation. “Alright then, we’ll be going with Herod’s plan then. We’re going to take the scattered remnants here and form it into something proper, not these scattered gangs and loners. Between his skills, your magic, Yaga’s talents, and my forging ability we can make something, as long as we can trust each other. To do that, we have to take care of our first problem.”

	The salamander rose now and for a moment everyone in the room understood why he was known as the Ash Lord. Tarkus cut an imposing figure, tall, strong, and confident. The air about him was one of authority, one that said clearly without words that he would have his way or he would have violence. His daring plan of action came with ease, spoken like a veteran of the many conflicts and battles that he was. The conspiring four sought to build a haven in this realm, but to do it the salamander explained, they would first need to kill Bertra the Beast and her gang known as the Ravagers. These thugs and despots had ruled the safe zone for a great many years and soon, they all agreed, they would unseat them.		The salamander rose now and for a moment everyone in the room understood why he was known as the Ash Lord. Tarkus cut an imposing figure, tall, strong, and confident. The air about him was one of authority, one that said clearly without words that he would have his way or he would have violence. His daring plan of action came with ease, spoken like a veteran of the many conflicts and battles that he was. The conspiring four sought to build a haven in this realm, but to do it the salamander explained, they would first need to kill Bertra the Beast and her gang known as the Ravagers. These thugs and despots had ruled the safe zone for a great many years and soon, they all agreed, they would unseat them.

R4d6: Typos

2024-02-07T02:34:06Z

Typos

← Older revision		Revision as of 22:34, 6 February 2024
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	Tarkus finally broke his gaze now, shaking his head and looking longingly to his hammer. “Your people are devious ones, Herod.” He said quietly, not looking at the rodentfolk but instead his own hand, the tips of his black claws lighting up into a small flame. He let it dance across his finger tips, drawing out a small silence before finally breaking it. “Even now I do not know who started the fight between my enforcers and the caravan but I have reason to suspect it was done through bribe, a reason for casus-belli to be declared against me by those who wanted my fiefdom.” It was his turn to sigh now, letting the flame that danced on his finger tips go out. “ A fight over the price of food became a diplomatic incident that devolved into a border dispute. I was challenged and my fight approved by the emperor. In the end I lost, killing Linebreaker Toragg but being defeated by Wolf King Rannick.” He was leaving out something, some specific detail, everyone sensed it but nobody pressed him on it.		Tarkus finally broke his gaze now, shaking his head and looking longingly to his hammer. “Your people are devious ones, Herod.” He said quietly, not looking at the rodentfolk but instead his own hand, the tips of his black claws lighting up into a small flame. He let it dance across his finger tips, drawing out a small silence before finally breaking it. “Even now I do not know who started the fight between my enforcers and the caravan but I have reason to suspect it was done through bribe, a reason for casus-belli to be declared against me by those who wanted my fiefdom.” It was his turn to sigh now, letting the flame that danced on his finger tips go out. “ A fight over the price of food became a diplomatic incident that devolved into a border dispute. I was challenged and my fight approved by the emperor. In the end I lost, killing Linebreaker Toragg but being defeated by Wolf King Rannick.” He was leaving out something, some specific detail, everyone sensed it but nobody pressed him on it.

	The salamander shrugged now, laying the matter to rest. “I am a man of battle, I was never suited for the politicking of nobles and court and for that I ended up here. My can only hope those I had been sworn to protect are prospering under Rannick now.” He raked his knuckles on the head of his hammer, his make-shift plate armor clanking, “Did you ever plan to tell me or anyone that it was your caravans and syndicate behind it all?” He suddenly asked, shifting the focus back to the rodentfolk. “Figured that out did ya?” Herod replied, "I knew the men running the racket but it was not one of mine, it just paid its tax to my syndicate out of fear of Yaga here if they did not report the sudden income." He used his prehensile rat tail to gently slap Yaga’s thigh affectionately. She frowned down at him while he returned a grin upwards before he continued. “Ironically it was your actions that lead to the meeting that became my downfall, but I do not blame you as you should not blame me. Someone would have done it, it would have happened, and in either case neither of us were truly directly involved. Cards fell how they did, sadly.”		The salamander shrugged now, laying the matter to rest. “I am a man of battle, I was never suited for the politicking of nobles and court and for that I ended up here. I can only hope those I had been sworn to protect are prospering under Rannick now.” He raked his knuckles on the head of his hammer, his make-shift plate armor clanking, “Did you ever plan to tell me or anyone that it was your caravans and syndicate behind it all?” He suddenly asked, shifting the focus back to the rodentfolk. “Figured that out did ya?” Herod replied, "I knew the men running the racket but it was not one of mine, it just paid its tax to my syndicate out of fear of Yaga here if they did not report the sudden income." He used his prehensile rat tail to gently slap Yaga’s thigh affectionately. She frowned down at him while he returned a grin upwards before he continued. “Ironically it was your actions that lead to the meeting that became my downfall, but I do not blame you as you should not blame me. Someone would have done it, it would have happened, and in either case neither of us were truly directly involved. Cards fell how they did, sadly.”

	“But we get back to what Tarkus said from the start. Can we trust each other? I know I can trust Yaga and maybe even you Tarkus, been working with alot of war lords in my day. But for this to work we need everyone on board, no secret plots or betrayals, else ~~were~~ not going to get out of this hell hole.” Herod was looking at Sad King Braireus now, sizing the ogre up as he was the only one besides Yaga who must have come here willingly. “Me and Yaga got a long history and I knew Tarkus' father. But you, your Majesty? Don’t know ya, don’t even know why you are locked up here. So why not enlighten us?” The ugly ogre looked back at Herod, his gaze was difficult to read, his lidded eyes blinking slowly. Yet both Herod and Tarkus got the impression that the ogre knew something they didn’t. “Necromancy.” The ogre stated blunted, turning what could have been a tale to mirror the other two into something more like an informal report. “I created a magical artifact that could bring the dead back to life, true life, and for it I was charged with necromancy.”		“But we get back to what Tarkus said from the start. Can we trust each other? I know I can trust Yaga and maybe even you Tarkus, been working with alot of war lords in my day. But for this to work we need everyone on board, no secret plots or betrayals, else we're not going to get out of this hell hole.” Herod was looking at Sad King Braireus now, sizing the ogre up as he was the only one besides Yaga who must have come here willingly. “Me and Yaga got a long history and I knew Tarkus' father. But you, your Majesty? Don’t know ya, don’t even know why you are locked up here. So why not enlighten us?” The ugly ogre looked back at Herod, his gaze was difficult to read, his lidded eyes blinking slowly. Yet both Herod and Tarkus got the impression that the ogre knew something they didn’t. “Necromancy.” The ogre stated blunted, turning what could have been a tale to mirror the other two into something more like an informal report. “I created a magical artifact that could bring the dead back to life, true life, and for it I was charged with necromancy.”

	Herod spoke first, quick to a question. “No way that didn’t have a price. Come on, my king, what went wrong with it?” He asked almost teasingly, yet the ogre responded as if the question was serious, “It had limits on who could be brought back, certain conditions needing to be met. Repeated use caused a slow degradation...” He trailed off, looking thoughtful while a vague frown creased his mismatched features. “And they imprisoned you for that? Most nobles would pay entire fiefs for a device to return them from the dead intact and necromancy is hardly illegal with the likes of Magnus around.” Tarkus said, his turn to speak up now. Sad King Briareus looked at him, looking confused for a moment. “I am not Magnus, nor as useful in my old age, the device was just relatively safe and highly effective way to make the dead living instead of unliving but that did not make it legal.” He replied casually, his confusion giving way to brief amusement. His humor was over the way everyone responded, offering a moment of grim silence to so casually admitting to using such dangerous and reviled magic. "Necromancy is not technically illegal, thanks to Magnus, but I was not as important as the lord of Crullfield. Thus, here I am."		Herod spoke first, quick to a question. “No way that didn’t have a price. Come on, my king, what went wrong with it?” He asked almost teasingly, yet the ogre responded as if the question was serious, “It had limits on who could be brought back, certain conditions needing to be met. Repeated use caused a slow degradation...” He trailed off, looking thoughtful while a vague frown creased his mismatched features. “And they imprisoned you for that? Most nobles would pay entire fiefs for a device to return them from the dead intact and necromancy is hardly illegal with the likes of Magnus around.” Tarkus said, his turn to speak up now. Sad King Briareus looked at him, looking confused for a moment. “I am not Magnus, nor as useful in my old age, the device was just relatively safe and highly effective way to make the dead living instead of unliving but that did not make it legal.” He replied casually, his confusion giving way to brief amusement. His humor was over the way everyone responded, offering a moment of grim silence to so casually admitting to using such dangerous and reviled magic. "Necromancy is not technically illegal, thanks to Magnus, but I was not as important as the lord of Crullfield. Thus, here I am."

Possum at 14:59, 14 September 2023

2023-09-14T14:59:05Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 10:59, 14 September 2023
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	So it began.		So it began.

	[[Category: ~~Roles~~]]		[[Category: Lore]]

Possum at 14:58, 14 September 2023

2023-09-14T14:58:45Z

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Possum at 14:36, 14 September 2023

2023-09-14T14:36:29Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 10:36, 14 September 2023
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	So it began.		So it began.

			[[Category: Roles]]

Possum at 19:05, 26 August 2023

2023-08-26T19:05:31Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 15:05, 26 August 2023
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	~~=The Agreement=~~

	It was the rust one smelled first when entering the shop, the age-worn and corroded stone that made the walls had long since worn away with time from whatever long forgotten purpose this underground catacomb had been built for. For now, it served as a place of commerce, a store for nick-knacks, tools, and guns as old as the men who bought them. The floor was wooden, naturally aged and smooth with the passing of a hundred foot steps marred only by a moth-eaten rug forgotten in the doorway. Across from the stone door was a counter where a man sat upon a stool, looking across the lantern lit room to the new comer. The strange customer was robed, masked, and looking to the rodentfolk as he stepped across the threshold, glancing about the random shelves and scattered racks filled with junk someone might some day buy.		It was the rust one smelled first when entering the shop, the age-worn and corroded stone that made the walls had long since worn away with time from whatever long forgotten purpose this underground catacomb had been built for. For now, it served as a place of commerce, a store for nick-knacks, tools, and guns as old as the men who bought them. The floor was wooden, naturally aged and smooth with the passing of a hundred foot steps marred only by a moth-eaten rug forgotten in the doorway. Across from the stone door was a counter where a man sat upon a stool, looking across the lantern lit room to the new comer. The strange customer was robed, masked, and looking to the rodentfolk as he stepped across the threshold, glancing about the random shelves and scattered racks filled with junk someone might some day buy.

Possum: Created page with "=The Agreement= It was the rust one smelled first when entering the shop, the age-worn and corroded stone that made the walls had long since worn away with time from whatever long forgotten purpose this underground catacomb had been built for. For now, it served as a place of commerce, a store for nick-knacks, tools, and guns as old as the men who bought them. The floor was wooden, naturally aged and smooth with the passing of a hundred foot steps marred only by a moth-..."

2023-08-26T19:04:51Z

Created page with "=The Agreement= It was the rust one smelled first when entering the shop, the age-worn and corroded stone that made the walls had long since worn away with time from whatever long forgotten purpose this underground catacomb had been built for. For now, it served as a place of commerce, a store for nick-knacks, tools, and guns as old as the men who bought them. The floor was wooden, naturally aged and smooth with the passing of a hundred foot steps marred only by a moth-..."

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