[HEADING=1]Ruins of Calrad- A Mount and Blade RP[/HEADING]
The city of Zendar. The only independent city in all of Calradia, not sworn to any lord. On the surface. However, a scholar digging through the origin of the city has hit upon the truth: Zendar is sworn to a certain family within its walls, who seem to be descended from the last true kings of Calrad.
A quiet tremor runs through the land. The common folk can't know what that means, and they aren't told. But the lords can, and do. They know that a true heir to the Throne of Calrad would topple all of their kingdoms. The common people, those who remembered the old ways, would rise up. Many lords would defect. The kingdoms would fall, one after the other.
And so the city was burning. Sea raiders, they said. They were not sea raiders, though they carried no banners. The guard was drawn up in front of the massive gates. A tall, raven-haired man- the lord, to look at him- rode back and forth in front of them, shouting.
"... Should any of you fear death, turn away! Back to your homes! I will not die in the company of such cowards!" he shouted. No one moved. A great knock came on the door, a battering ram. "Good! Now, form up, friends! We go once more unto the breach!" The gates shattered, and the guards charged, the lord on his horse leading the charge.
In a large manor house, a woman is sobbing as her youngest is bundled up and armed. The head of the household guard stands stiffly, not knowing what to do. He'd failed to keep their heritage a secret. It was his fault, and his alone. He watched as the youngest- no more than fourteen- is armored and armed, and given a map. He's being sent away. The rest of the children are already gone. Killed at the end of the escape routes. The men outside were methodical, and had found them all. Or, all save one. There was a single route not blocked, a tiny crawl-space out to the river. It was long, and uncomfortable, and the boy was the only one who could fit.
And so the city burned, and the last heir escaped. Months passed, and no word of the boy came. The king- or kings- who ordered the destruction were satisfied. The threat had passed. Things returned to normal in Calradia, feast and tournaments and wars. And caught in the center of it, a small handful of people, some of high birth, others lower than low, with an auspicious destiny. This is their story, a tale of incredible people in an incredible time.
[HEADING=2]Welcome![/HEADING]
Time to get down to business, then. Make your first posts, and we'll start off on our mad adventure.
(Oh, for reference- the burning of Zendar is a well-known event, but it's contributed to sea raiders. So. Also, it happened about three months before the game begins, so few people will still be talking about it. It's important, though. Obviously.)
Appearance:Maelum is a well built man of average height, with broad shoulders. He has a muscular physique (built up from a life time of soldiering) though his midsection is starting to bulge out a little (thanks to years of drink and over indulgence). He has jet black hair, neatly cut and kept combed back out of his eyes, something he doesn't have to do as much now that his hairline is receding. He seems to be trying to compensate for this by growing out his goatee. Maelum has sharp facial features and narrow, piercing, blue eyes. A feature which he loves to use to his advantage when staring down an enemy or trying (and usually failing) to charm a bar maid.
Personality:Maelum is a career solider and it shows in his manners. He is far more comfortable in a bar fight than in a noble court. His chosen lifestyle has forced him to accept that any day could be his last, so when not on the battlefield he is quick to try and live life to its fullest. Drinking and eating to his heart's content or at least as much as the contents of his coin pouch will let him. Unless he's drunk then Maelum is usually quiet and reserved, communicating with only a few words and grunts, which he maintains has nothing to do with the large sum of drink he had the night before. Although he truly comes to life when he is on the battlefield swinging a sword into someone's skull.
A stranger would say that Maelum has three states of being: Drinking, fighting, hungover.
Skills: Maelum is skilled with two handed swords and shields. He is adept at horse riding though he prefers to fight on foot. He feels most at home in heavy armour.
Equipment:Weapons and armour - A bastard sword. One handed club. Studded leather armour. Kite shield (used with sword or slung over back to protect from arrows).
Other Gear - A skin of wine. Roll of bandages. Hunting knife. 15 Denar.
Location: Sargoth
Bio: Born in Praven Maelum's father was a veteran warrior in the service of a local lord. He taught his son all he knew about the art of combat.
His father had earned a name for himself in the ever changing conflicts and managed to call in enough favours for his son to be educated at court where he learned about the world of lords, ladies and court intrigue. Although as the son of a common solider Maelum never felt like he fit in there.
Despite his lack of etiquette and education Maelum's skills with a sword brought him to the attention of a veteran knight who took him on as his squire. As he became older Maelum polished his ability with sword and lance and he learned the how to fight like a Swadian warrior. He proved himself adept with larger weapons. As a reward for his loyal service his mentor gave him a finely honed bastard sword. A large but light blade, capable of being wielded in either one hand or two. This allowed Maelum to switch between fighting with sword and shield or swinging out with his sword in both hands (his preferred tactic). Still he was always different to the other squires which did little to help him earn friends in the Swadian court.
Eventually he left. Some people whisper that he was forced from his home but none of them dare say it to his face.
Not good with numbers and barely able to read, Maelum had only one marketable skill. His sword arm. So when he left his home in Elberl Maelum took all of his squire's equipment with him and found work as a mercenary. Maelum took to it like a duck to water and quickly proved himself a skilled leader of men and dealer of death. Eventually managing to form his own mercenary company. It has been a over ten years since he started out on his career and his troupe have fallen on hard times. With money short and only ten of his men left he has come to Sargoth in the hopes of earning some money in the Nordic tournaments.
Appearance:
Trish is tall for a woman, she is about the average size of a man. She is very lean and fit. She has sharp facial features, and long light brown hair and blue eyes. She likes to wear full plate armor along with a red cape that's a bit tattered around the edges. She wears a one handed long aiming sword on her right hip, and a red heather shield on her back. She has a couple of smaller scars on her arms from all the fighting she's done.
Personality: Trish is a very reserved person and lives by a strict code of honor. She hates crime of any kind, and dislikes most nobles. She sees protecting the weak as her duty. She also hides the fact that she is a woman, and prefers to be on the road. She is also a realist and knows that even if she tries not much will change in Calderia but she still tries, hoping to save and help as many people as she can. She also sees drinking as a weakness and almost never visits taverns, preferring to sleep in the wild.
Notable Skills: Trish is trained in the ways of the knight. She is an excellent rider and is very skilled with both swords and lances. She can also read and write thanks to the teaching she received from the monks. She is quite adapt with leading people into battle.
Equipment:
Weapons and armor: battered plate armor and a battered great helmet. A balanced long aiming sword, a double sides lance, and a red heather shield.
Other: Food for her party for about 20 days, 500 denars and a charger horse.
Location: Praven
Bio: Trish is an Molay in name only. She was given to a church near the border of Caldeira as a baby and raised there. Unfortunately the lord of that piece of land didn't care much for the church, so bandit raids were quite common in those parts. To make sure that the church would be left alone, the monks hired Sir Henry, a young knight who was looking for a new home. Trish loved going outside and loved horse riding even more.
Sir Henry saw this and as an result he started escorting her, to make sure she wouldn't be hurt on her numerous trips. She and Sir Henry became very good friends. She also paid attention during the lessons in the church, and learned how to read and write and basic mathematics. She idolized Sir Henry and decided that she wanted to be a knight when she grew up.
Sir Henry had been a knight with a promising future, and he had even had a wife and a young daughter. But after crossing a crooked noble, his wife and child were murdered. Hoping for forgiveness because of his failure to protect his family, he went to the temple and was offered a job there. Trish reminded him of his daughter and he swore to protect her no matter what.
But when she was only 8, the church was raided. Sir Henry fought bravely but he was defeated by the large party of bandits. He managed to save Trish and take her with him, as he fled from the bandits. He felt responsible for her and decided to take care of her, so they started traveling together. Trish asked Sir Henry to teach her how to take care of herself. Sir Henry refused at first, but after weeks of begging he caved in. He began teaching her how to fight with a sword and lance and she learned tactics from him.
The party traveled through the country and Trish slowly grew older and stronger. Sir Henry also began to grow older and was now in his early thirties. He kept teaching Trish how to become a knight and she was talented to say the least. Sir Henry thought Trish the code of the knights, to protect the weak and help the helpless.
When Trish was 14 they came upon a village which was being raided by a small group of bandits. Trish and Sir Henry charged into the village, and without hesitating started to kill the bandits. The bandits fled and Sir Henry and Trish were seen as heroes by the villagers. They were invited to stay there and they decided to take them up on the offer. Trish and Sir Henry completely focused on her knight training now. There was an small mercenary camp near the village and Trish would often go there to learn things from these lawless men as they were excellent fighters.
Trish grew into a beautiful woman in the time they spend in the village. She began to notice how the men looked at her. She hated these looks and as an result, started to wear heavy armor and helmets. When she turned 19 there was a tournament in a nearby city. She entered the tournament just like Sir Henry, but used a fake name to hide her gender. The tournament went quite well, Trish managed to reach the finals where she had to face Sir Henry. Sir Henry had told her earlier that he wouldn't hold back if they had to face each other.
The battle that followed would be spoken of for years. The battle took more then an hour but after much blood shed a lance from Trish broke on Sir Henry's helmet. He dropped on the ground, unable to get back up. Trish and Sir Henry returned home with a lot of money won from the tournament.
Sir Henry had bet all of his money on Trish. He told her that he had always known that she would win. Trish and Sir Henry left the village, Trish decided to use her winnings to start a mercenary company. She also bought a good armor for herself and Sir Henry. She bought an armor that hid her face and the shape of her body. She acted like she was a man fearing that she wouldn?t be respected as a woman.
Trish went from village to village in Swadia looking for young and able men and, together with Sir Henry, trained them. After about a year of training they had a party of about 8 young man at arms, all of them eager to serve Trish. Or Tristan, as she called herself. She was the leader of the party, and she chose to live by her ideals. They searched the country for bandits and other low lives, took care of them and used the loot of the raids to buy better equipment.
Rumors of this knight's group began to spread through Swadia. They called themselves the Knight Order, and their party slowly grew. They sometimes lost someone, and sometimes found people willing to join them. Their party has grown steadily, over the course of the last 4 years. They now have about 13 experienced man at arms, some of them young some of them veterans. All of them are very loyal to her and Sir Henry, who is her second in command.
Appearance: Galen is tall and slim with a face that looks like a wolf chewed on it. He has scars on his face from receiving a mace wound that nearly killed him. The only part of his face that remains untouched is his eyes which has served him very well. His limbs are long as well but aren't as developed as most warriors. Galen's hair is a dirty blonde and short so his peripheral vision isn't covered. Galen's nose is permanently broken which leaves a nasty bump on the bridge of his nose but it isn't like his face is any better. His face used to look attractive and boyish with his serene, green eyes.
Personality: Galen is as cold and heartless as the sea itself but is usually calm and level-headed about most things. He isn't educated and he knows that, often poking fun at the fact that despite his inability to write he still spells death to his foe. He is cocky and boastful as well but passively. Galen won't go out of his way to get obtain bragging rights but he's willing to bet every now and then. Speaking of betting, Galen is an avid gambler and is very sociable if there's something to bet on.
Skills: Galen is a skilled hunter and an even more skilled archer. Tracking, spotting, and path-finding are among his other fortes as well as some bartering but he does most of his talking through his arrows. Because of his long limbs and slender frame, Galen is also quite nimble in the field or primarily in the forests.
Equipment: Long bow with a hip quiver loaded with barbed arrows. He also carries a one handed axe and wears leather gloves along with his dirtied leather jerkin. He has meat jerky for his men along with just a measly 20 denars left.
Location: Dhirm
Bio: Galen was born to a hunter in the forests bordering the Swadian plains and Rhodok highlands. His father taught Galen and his three brothers to use the bow feverishly as he believed that it would allow his children to further themselves in life. While they are at the markets to sell meat, Galen and his brothers would usually live off the streets as another source of income along with the other street children. His father didn't mind them for as long as they made it back in time to leave then he didn't bother. Eventually, Galen took to being a hunter much like his father but he took it a step further by accepting a bounty on a criminal made by a Swadian lord.
He hunted the man down and dealt his own brand of justice. Galen's father always taught him to bring back some part of his kill as a token of completion along with the actual meat. Since he didn't need the meat, Galen always brought back "proof" of his actions. Most of the time it was a scalp or two and it became his unique calling card. He was always payed and that allowed him to hire some men to further make his bounty hunting more efficient. With 20 men, he has kept the bounty boards relatively empty and the Swadian nobles took notice of that. With their war against the Khergit, the Swadian nobles lack in the realm of skirmishing which is what Galen and his troop are good at. Galen only hires marksmen and light infantrymen so speed was on their side as opposed to the heavy Swadian infantry.
The Swadians needed an answer to the fast Steppe riders and Galen along with his men were part of it. Galen was hired for a campaign to venture in the Khergit Steppes. On the fields near Uhhun Kaleshi their army was attacked by a large war party. The hooves of the Khergits trampled those who weren't fast enough to retreat to Swadian lines but Galen had a hand in harassing the Khergits long enough for the Swadians to counter attack. Galen and his men held the flanks that was usually taken by the Khergit horse archers which were now being forced to deal with Galen. Whenever the Khergit lancers would run after them, Galen told his men to retreat to within the Swadian's crossbows range which further discouraged them from encircling the army. After the attack the countered, Galen's skirmishers were able to regain lost ground. He lost men in the process but saved countless others.
The battle began to turn to the Swadians' favor as Khergits lost more horsemen to Galen's own tactics. As Galen was watching over the flanks, a Khergit lancer caught Galen by surprise by pretending to be dead next to his horse. Galen's face was hit by a swing from the man's mace. He collapsed to the ground with his face bloodied and misshapen. Before the Khergit could finish him, he was struck down by several crossbow bolts from Swadian marksmen. Galen was rushed to a surgeon before he bled out. Luckily, his life was saved but he was in no more condition to fight so he was forced to go back to Dhirm to recuperate.
It's been several months and Galen has since been trying to keep his archery skills in tip top shape by hunting wildlife and not men. Just recently, Galen's men have since come back from the campaign making him fear for the worst. With the rest of the money he has left he's hired 15 men to help him in his quest to get them back after a letter came in saying that they've been captured by the Khergits. Now it's just a matter of finding them.
Appearance: Gerick is perhaps an inch or two below average with broad shoulders though the rest of him is somewhat thin. Gerick's face is quite squarish and his brown curly hair is quite short and wild. Gerick lacks any major scars or marks, but his rough and generally dirty skin indicate that fine beds and bathing are a rarity in his lifestyle. Gerick's eyes are a lighter brown and he's got a tendency to squint slightly to make up for his slight farsightedness. Gerick almost never stands up straight, mostly slouching when he can't find a shady spot to lean or lay in.
Personality: Gerick is most happy when he's allowed to be rather laid back and humorous, often finding a sour laugh in his sometimes black sense of humor. On the other hand, whenever engaged in any kind of business Gerick becomes exceedingly serious with his lack of joking directly proportional to how many lives could be at stake. Gerick tends to have an easy relaxed aura about him and is particularly unflappable when lying though heavy fighting tends to unsettle him. Gerick has a rather peculiar sense of personal honer; despite being a lier, cheat, and bandit; he always sticks to his morals and promises.
Notable Skills: Gerick is a highly knowledgeable engineer learned in both classic and modern construction methods and materials. Gerick's profession has also led to becoming decent at a series of skills. Gerick is quite skilled at hiding as well as setting up ambushes, particularly in forests. He's also a decent if not good shot with a bow and he knows how to handle a knife in a fight. Gerick is also a skilled bluffer, he lies easily and well as well as knows how to spot someone else deceiving in an instant.
Gerick also know a touch of first aid and is surprisingly good at keeping his motley crew in line.
Equipment: Gerick's main weapon is an old worn short bow with some bent arrows. He also keeps a notched dagger as well as a few throwing knifes on him most of the time. Like most of his followers, Gerick doesn't wear much armor beyond a few hardened leathers and a bit of padding but he maintains a pair of tough cloaks; one thick and white for winter and the other is a dark green for when it isn't snowing. Gerick also likes keeping a few caltrops on hand.
Gerick has a handful of coins for expenditures, but most of his wealth is tied up in long term food and wages for his crew.
Location: A surprisingly well constructed bandit hideout in the woods between Ibrian and Tahlberl. (East of Suno)
Bio: Long ago... when the Old Empire controlled Calrad and all were united the Empire held great power and knowledge. And when the royal family wanted a river bridged or a fort destroyed they called upon the Imperial Engineer to oversee the work knowing that he would never fail them. For generations the position of Imperial Engineer was held by a member of the Crito family representing the true mastery of the empire. But as the end drew upon the Old Empire, Decimus Crito's political enemies united and drove him out, he swore then that he would serve no lesser lord and that his time of return would come. And so he made his way out into the mountains and forests to live as he must...
Or, at least that is the story that Gerick was told by his father all his life. Gerick's father was the leader of a group of forest bandits, the same group that his grandfather had led and allegedly so on back to Decimus Crito. Gerick's father never tiered of telling Gerick that these situations were merely temporary; that one day the Old Empire would rise again and Gerick would have a place within it at the vary top. Well... maybe Gerick's grandchildren... that wasn't important, the time would come.
Appropriately, Gerick's father raised him both to lead the bandits when his time came, as well as in the methods of construction and destruction of all manor of buildings and contraptions. Over time Gerick came into the skills and when his father died of disease he took up his place as head of the bandit crew.
As years went by Gerick shaped the group and their operations even more to his liking. They focused their efforts even more on making their traps and raids bloodless and even chased most of the rival bandit gangs out of their turf. Since the group had never harassed the local villages the area actually became quite safe and some caravan leaders even came to consider it a good idea to pay a 'nominal fee' rather then travel more dangerous roads.
Meanwhile, Gerick became even more interested in engineering. His father had taught him a lot about old ways of doing things, but Gerick would sneak into cities disguised not only to negotiate the release of prisoners and do other business, but also to learn about more modern constructions.
Appearance: A slender giant of a man, Jakob is both uncommonly tall and uncommonly slim for a nobleman, standing roughly a head taller then most men of Calradia. The sharp aristocratic features of his face are dominated by sunken swamp green eyes and an enormous forked black beard and moustache, giving him a permanmently tired, brooding look. His hair is the same colour as his bard and is cut short in a manner befitting his military upbringing and his skin, normally of a pale complexion thanks to his noble Swadian birth, has been tanned by the heat of the Sarranidian enviroment. The most distinguishing feature Lord Aidler possesses-other then his height-is a clubbed left foot, a legacy of an ambush by bandits in his earlier years. While not severe enough to require the use of walking aids, Jakob cannot run as quickly as others nor is particularly agile: an interesting situation given the man's preference for fighting on foot.
Personality: Jakob Aidler is a Swadian aristocrat through and through: contemptuous of his lessers, paranoid about his fellow nobles and their insidious designs and utterly convinced of his own superiority; be it with blade, intellect or blood. Calculating and mistrustful, Jakob suspects treason and plots at every corner and while he is usually adept at maintaining a calm facade, sometimes his paranoia gets the better of him and can cause fits of violent temper as he lashes out at real and percieved foes: an expensive education has only excacerbated this trait as the man is convinced the same coups and conspiracies of history can happen again.
Notable Skills: Jakob is a skilled if unexceptional swordsman, highly trained and well experienced in the use of sword and shield. Although he is a competant rider, he only uses his steed for travelling purposes and dismounts when combat is afoot. Jakob's other expertise lies in commanding others as he is well versed in tactics and possesses a forceful charisma born of complete self-conviction that enables him to dominate the lower orders.
Equipment: Left almost completely destitute by the fortunes of war, Jakob can only boast a few score Denars to his name and is equipped with merely a simple arming sword and the tattered clothes of a Khergit captive. However, he is determined to rise again......
Location: Outskirts of Jameyyed castle
Bio: The Aidler family had served as margraves of the Swadian-Khergit border for many generations when Jakob was born in their ancestral castle at Rindyar. His was a privileged upbringing: the only son of a prestigous family, he was afforded the best martial training and education money could buy since he would not only assume the position of Margrave of Rindyar when fully grown but he was also vital to the continuation of the Aidler bloodline. As might be expected, Jakob grew up relatively spoiled and became used to the idea of inherent lordship over all, an idea reinforced by frequent trips accompanying his father to conscript local peasants and passing mercenaries for the defense of the border.
In spite of any personality flaws, Jakob soon assumed responsbilities in his family's fiefdom in his teen years and was often charged with leading small patrols around its territories, on the lookout for Khergit forces, outlaws and simply anyone the young lord didn't like the look of. It was during one of these patrols that Jakob experienced a defining moment of his life: spying an infamous outlaw of the region, Jakob gave chase at once, racing ahead of his surprised comrades. It was only when the first javelin whipped past his head did he realise he'd been lured into an ambush. Seperated from his horsemen and having foolishly followed the outlaw into the wooded border with Tilmaut fied, Jakob was forced to fight for his life alone and against a dozen bandits-worse, attempting to dismount, his horse was brought down by more javelins and pinned him to the earth by his left leg. Though his party arrived in time to scare off the bandits and drag him free, Jakob was left seething from what he saw as the humilation of being outwitted and outfought by common peasantry, even after his leg had been set at Rindyar and the outlaws caught and hung. He vowed that so help him gods, he would never be outmanoeuvred again.
The next decade saw Jakob orphaned by a thankfully minor outbreak of plague and fighting in the seemingly endless border wars with the Khanate, chasing off raiding parties and crossing the border to raze villages. It was here he excelled, showing a ruthless enthuaism for plunder and little quarter to the enemy. The Rindyar garrison saw off numerous Khergit attacks but it was never employed as the starting-off point for a serious counter-attack: something that increasingly infuriated Jakob. He petitioned Praven again and again for the right to launch a campaign against the Khanate, to conquer their lands and ensure the safety of the margrave but again and again the royal court refused. To add insult to injury in Jakob's eyes, he was constantly invited to feasts and tournaments even as his fief wrestled with invaders! Strategically frustrated, convinced that the lords who attended the feasts were mocking him and viewing King Harlus as a weak man incapable of decisive action, Jakob took action and mustered everything he could from Rindyar for his own assault on the Khergit.
When Calradian scholars talk of the greatest military defeats of modern history, the Battle of Halmar features most prominently.
Jakob's campaign against the Khergit targeted the town of Halmar, a key trade point for the Khanate and no doubt a wealthy source of plunder, not to mention that the capture of such a prize would prove to Harlus and his court that Jakob had been right all along and would galvinze them into true war. But the campaign ended in disastor: despite initial success in raiding nearby villages and destroying small enemy parties, the campaign ground to a halt when Jakob committed his men to a seige of Halmar, despite the advice of his lieutenants. Barely a few months into the seige, a relief force arrived, greatly outnumbering the Swadians-investing the town, they could not escape the fast moving Khergit horsemen and were brought to battle. It was a slaughter: Jakob personally fought with ferocity but his arrogance had doomed his men from the moment they had arrived at Halmar. His army was destroyed in short order, cut down by lancers and horse archers with the few survivors taken prisoner, including Jakob who had tried to organise a last ditch defense when the Khergit infantry approached to mop-up the remnants of his forces. Had his captors recoginised his heraldry they might have lopped off his head there and then, great was the hatred the Khanate bore for the latest Aidler but as luck would have it, his coat of arms had either been hacked from his armour or was so rent and damaged by blows it was impossible to decipher, giving Jakob the dubious fate of imprisonment in the town he had sought to capture.
The new few months in captivity brought further ill-tidings: Jakob learnt from his captors that another great victory had been achieved by the Khan's warriors and that the castle of Rindyar had fallen, leaving him dispossessed and penniless. Before long he was taken from his cell: he feared that his identity had finally been discovered but it was not so-instead he was to be taken to the slave markets of Narra to see if he could fetch a fine price for his foes. Stripped of his title and family holdings and destined for a life of slavery in some distant Khergit pit, it seemed Jakob's saga was coming to a ignominious end-however fate smiled on the man.
The prisoner caravan was halfway to Narra when it came under attack by a sizeable force of deserters and brigands garbed in the manner of Rhodoks-surely the remnants of some army defeated by the Sarranids, whose border was only a day's travel to the south. Volleys and counter-volleys of arrows and crossbow bolts flew across the plains as the caravan guards fought with their assailiants and in the confusion the ropes binding Jakob came loose and he was able to free himself, pausing only to grab a sword some food from a fallen guard before fleeing the fight on a stolen horse. The caravan a distant object and hidden inside a copse, the nobleman took stock: his holdings in Swadia were gone and with them his wealth and worth in the kingdom. To stay in Khergit lands was a death sentence: even if no-one recoginised him as the Margrave of Rindyar he was still an escaped prisoner and lords paid just as well for the heads of such individuals as they did for the whole body. There was only course left to Jakob and so he took it, making his way to the Sarranid border with the intent of regaining his status in this world at any cost.....
Appearance: Black ragged unwashed hair, almost shoulder length. Slight stubble. Green eyes, with a cruel glint to them. He is heavily scarred across both his arms, and a thin pale scar runs across his left cheek.
Personality: Raddas is extremely egotistical, and violent. He has been known to lash out against subordinates for the smallest of provocations, and is extremely cruel to his prisoners, especially those belonging to the Kingdom of Rhodok. The only thing he took away from his time in the Sarranid military is a hatred of the Rhodok.
Notable Skills: Raddas is a skilled tracker and rider, and is competent at making strategies designed to take as many enemies alive as possible.
Equipment: Sarranid Archer Armour (check the game), Desert Turban, Sarranid Robes, Desert Horse, Winged Mace, Leather Covered Round Shield, Leather Gloves, Leather Boots. Approx 500 Denars, a small desert bandit group. (10 men including himself?)
Location: A small hidden camp in between Barriye and Bardaq castle.
Bio: Raddas was raised in the harsh desert enviroment of the Sarranid Sultanate, and was always of a dark disposition, the origin of which is uncertain. He was to be doomed to a life of farm service, but left his home (and killed his parents for good measure) to work for the military. There, he trained to be a Mamluke, but quickly found that the military didn't pay him enough. He did not complete his training, and deserted (after killing his commanding officer for good measure.)
He found work with one of the local bandit groups, and quickly murdered his way to the position of chief. Driven purely by a lust for money, Raddas will fight for the highest bidder, provided they are not Rhodok.
Appearance: Asin is lean, like many of his race, but as the son of a noble his is the smooth, graceful leanness of predator. His tanned face is often stoic and impassive, despite the sardonic curve of his eyebrow, which arch of sharp green eyes.
His dark hair is cut close to his head, and he is clean shaven; with his aquiline nose, strong jaw and high cheekbones, he looks rather harsh.
He wears practical garments, made of fine materials but designed for use more rather than fashion, and a suit of light armor.
Personality: Asin is quiet and stoic, and can give the impression of being cold; in fact, he is simply reserved in his displays of emotion, having been raised with a philosophy that promotes measured words and careful actions.
this does not mean he does not know how to have fun, or take a risk, indeed, he is capable of both, but he gambles with ruthless commitment, and with the recent raids in Uhhun, he has rare cause for amusement.
Asin lives by a strict code of honor, but believes that he can restore his families land of Uhhun to their former glory. His code would be considered savage by the Western Nations: he will never break a promise, save to one who has broken his own word. He will allow no worthy opponent the humiliation of surviving a defeat, but will take pleasure in the suffering of a dishonorable foe.
Notable Skills: Asin is a skilled tactician, adept at managing hit and run maneuvers that prevent his opponents from catching his small raiding force in a pitched battle. He has a fondness for harassing the enemy: he targets supply lines and burns unprotected buildings to weaken his foe, and has trained his men to move and fight effectively at night.
Asin is a superb archer, even when riding, and while he is skilled with his halberd, he prefers to break away from melee and attack form range. He has trained his Veteran core to make hit and run charges; making sudden melee attacks before retreating under cover from supporting horse archers.
From his education, he has learnt to read and write, and has a fondness for poetry and mathematical proof.
Equipment: Asin's clothes are warm and moderately waterproof, being lined with the water-resistant fur of steppe animals. His armor is mainly comprised of lacquered leather, but for serious battles he will don a suit of light mail and a metal helm.
For close combat, Asin carries with him a halberdlike weapon; it function like a spear for the charge, but has an axe-like blade that can be swung in a melee. For such times, he also carries a shield of wood, reinforced with steel.
However, Asin's preferred weapon is the bow: his recurve bow cannot match crossbows for range and penetration of armor, but his accuracy and rate of fire, even when riding at full gallop, is second to none.
Asin rides Kay, a huge black Sarranid stalion, with whom he has trained for several years. The beast wears minimal armor, but is fearless is battle and can outrun all but the fastest of his kin.
Despite having relatively few men, Asin has taken with him a reasonably large portion of gold, and comfortable provisions. His force consists of a core of Veteran Horse Archers of his personal guard, bolstered by what supporters he could gather as he left, made up of Lancers, Horse Archers and some Horsemen and Skirmishers.
Location: As the game begins, he is leaving Castle Uhhun, headed for the Swadian border.
Bio: Asin is the second son of Lord Tansugai of Uhhun Castle, and so was educated to be a diplomat and trained to be an officer. His life was comfortable indeed, until the war began and Uhhun became the target Swardian raiding parties. Asin's later years had a constant atmosphere of tension, which grew worse after his father was wounded in battle, and became unable to lead the defense of Uhhun directly. Asin remembers the peace and quiet of his childhood, and wishes to do whatever he can to put and end to the war.
As such, he throws off his 'duties' at Uhhun Castle, which is now run by his foppish brother. In defiance of his order, he rides out with his personal guard, alongside those others who are disillusioned, to make his own mark to the Swardian War.
Appearance: Petite (especially for someone from the north) with bright, copper red hair she braids attempts to braid over one shoulder (attempt as it?s so curly and thick it tends to come loose instantly). Her eyes are grey and her features might be sharp someday, but right now she?s got a full face of youth combined with a comfy lifestyle. Her body is slim but built like a dancer.
Personality: Kari is adventurous and mischievous, your typical prankster kid and not naturally blood thirsty. On first impressions she is stubborn and proud, a feature that doesn?t make her many friends. However, get to know her and people find she?s hard-working and determined, and to those she gets along with a fierce friend for life.
Notable Skills: Unusually for her people she is excellent with horses, and prefers fighting from horseback to make up for her small stature. Her preferred weapon is an axe, though she wants to start learning how to use swords too.
Equipment: Weapons and Armour: An Axe she stole from her brother (slightly long in the handle for her but still dangerous to be on the wrong side of), a chain mail vest from her younger brother (again slightly too big, ending at around her mid thigh) and an old battered shield her mother made her take.
Other: She has a reasonable amount of money with her, though it?s dwindling fast as she pays and keeps the men she?s hired to protect her.
Location: Sargoth
Bio: The only daughter of the Jarl of Kulum, Kari grew up as one of five, with three elder brothers and one younger. Her father, unhappy with his lot or ruling some back of beyond place put great emphasis on his children becoming strong fighters or political masters so that the family could gain a higher standing. All the other children did this well, except Kari. Inattentive in lessons, she was more likely to skip them to go and play pranks on other kids or go out on one of the families few horses. One of the few things she did do well at was the more physical lessons, though she only started those to stop her brothers bullying her.
At first it was a phase people thought she?d grow out of, but as she grew older it became less amusing. Realising she would never make anything useful of herself Kari?s father attempted to marry her off, but no one was keen to play the role of husband. Hurt and angry at the humiliation she?d suffered, Kari stole a horse, armour and money and left Kulum, determined to prove herself a capable woman in battle. Only her mother knew of her plan, and she gave her an old shield that belonged to her own brother who had died in battle several years past.
For the past few months Kari has made her way east towards Sargoth, hiring a few men as protection on the dangerous roads at night. They?re honourable as long as the money keeps flowing and she provides decent food and lodgings when possible, but the money she stole is fast running out...and Kari worries what will happen if she doesn?t find more to keep them happy.
Outside the window, the sounds of his childhood awoke him from slumber. The sounds of people talking, merchants bartering, animals barking, children screaming, hooves clacking, and footsteps on the paved roads played like music in Galen's head. He pushed himself out of the bed and into his clothes as the tavern keeper below shouted at his subordinates about spilling drinks. He splashed his face with some water that the tavern keeper puts outside their doors and in the bowl, Galen saw his face once more. The water settled in from it he could see the ridges carved into his face, his broken nose, and the still healing flesh. Now its a permanent reminder of what needs to be done and what kind of revenge he needed to give out to atone for such a blow. His men were still in captivity in Khergit lands and he promised to himself he would free them no matter the cost.
Footsteps caused Galen to turn to its source and he saw Verdan's familiar frame. Verdan had been with him in the battle and escorted him back to Dhirm so that he would recover. He owed Verdan his life but he refuses to call upon the favor that Galen has yet to give. Verdan is a stout man with large arms and a bushy, brown beard. A bow and its quiver is slung on his back with his nordic helm tucked in his right arm near his sword.
"Should I tell the men we are leaving?" Verdan asked. While Galen was out of commission, Verdan was the one who mustered as many men as he could after Galen ordered him to after receiving a letter from a lord who informed him of his lost men. Galen had money left over from his bounty hunting days so that wasn't the issue until now.
"Not yet... still need some denars before we leave." Galen breathed out. He rubbed the sand of his eyes as he walked towards the staircase. "The tavern keeper is a start. Tell them we are leaving within a moment's notice though..."
"Aye aye!" Verdan said, rounding a corner as soon as they got to the ground floor of the tavern.
The place was quaint but during the nights the place was rowdy and full of life. Still, men lounged even if the light of day was at full blast. Galen walked to where the bartender was, who was dutifully wiping the wooden counter free from grime and spilled ale.
"I hope my boys weren't too rowdy last night. I'll make it up for you if you've heard of any jobs for a man like me. Hopefully anything to do with a little bit of action."
Trish span around the blade of her opponent, using her momentum to trip the opponent making him fall on the ground. She gracefully stepped towards him and placed her sword on his chest. The man looked up at Trish and sighed "It seemed you were better again, Tristan." Trish smiled as she extended her hand "You are better then last time, Jonas, don't worry. You will be as good as I am someday." Jonas smiled as he took her hand and she pulled him up. Jonas began wiping the dirt off his armor, he thanked her for the lesson and then walked back to their camp.
Trish heard clapping and turned around to see Sir Henry "It seems you are busy as usual 'Tristan'," Sir Henry said with a sly smile. Trish smiled as she walked over to him "I was just training Jonas, he still has much to learn," she said, smiling, she only really felt free to be herself around Sir Henry. "You care as much about your men as usual, that is one of the reason they are so loyal to you," Sir Henry smiled as he looked at the camp. "It smells like breakfast is ready, lets go to the camp and eat." Trish nodded, "Sounds like a good idea." Both knights walked back to the camp. The party cheered as they joined them, Arthur, also nicknamed 'The Cook', began passing food around. Breakfast consisted of some salted pork, a few slices of bread and some cheese.
Trish smiled as she grabbed her breakfast and walked towards her tent. The men weren't surprised that their leader didn't join them for breakfast. 'Tristan' had told them that he had been horrible wounded and that he had many scars on his face. And that was why he kept his helmet on at all time, and if he wasn't wearing it, nobody was allowed to see him. Her men had much respect for her and that is why they allowed her to eat in peace. Gregory, also known as 'The Night Guard', was patrolling the camp site, he had been with Trish since the party had been build. He had sleeping problems which was why he volunteered to take many night and morning shifts, the other men were completely fine with this. As it meant they could get more sleep.
"I hope my boys weren't too rowdy last night. I'll make it up for you if you've heard of any jobs for a man like me. Hopefully anything to do with a little bit of action."
The innkeeper eyed the man suspiciously. An archer, to look at him, with face like ground-up meat.
"You can help by getting out." he growled, then turned and exited to the kitchens.
It would appear that his men had caused something of a problem.
The barmaid approached him, shaking her head. She seemed to be the daughter of the innkeeper, a pretty lass of seventeen or so.
"Forgive him, he's sore at your men. If you're looking for work, go see the fabric merchant. He owes us a bit of gold, but he's been having trouble with bandits. Tell him Serina sent you. He'll tell you the story."
She whisked away, busy as ever despite the time of day.
Nearby, the village of Azgad sits on a peninsula north of Praven. A force of bandits- really no more than a dozen- rolls in, and a brief scuffle ensues. The most arrogant bandits ever, to attack a village so close to the king's seat, take control of the town. A few villagers escape, and flee into the morning. Several head towards Praven, and will pass by the camp of the Knight Order before noon. They didn't rightly know what they were looking for, just some vague notion about telling someone and getting help.
Raddas pulled his turban down, shielding his eyes from the raging sandstorm. "Alright boys, listen up. A teeny little Khergit Caravan is coming through here. No more than 8 men. We're gonna hit em hard, shoot their horses first. Those little steppe bastards are useless without their horses." growled Raddas. His men silently nodded in agreement. They knew that the last person to interrupt Raddas is now one of his favorite tent ornaments.
"You... you... and you." he ordered, "follow me, we'll distract them on the northern side. "You four, hit em from the side when we've got them charging. The rest of you, cut off their escape." he spurred his horse into a fierce gallop to get ready to intercept the caravan.
It was noon when Jakob reached the border between Khergit and Sarranid lands, the land changing from verdent grassy steppe to sandy plains. With the new enviroment came new temperatures: the heat rising quickly and making the welts on his wrists where he had been bound itch. That itch was an unplesant reminder of his position in the world-not that he needed many of those right now he thought, eyeing the terrain warily. Not too far off to the south was a village resting atop a hill and beyond that the castle it belonged to, nestled strategically between two mountain ranges. Jameyyed Castle, if he remembered his A Study of Worthy Fortifications of Calradia -surely the lord of such a holding would be in need of skilled blades and keen minds?
Jakob wagered that he would but to go before a nobleman in his current state was simply unacceptable-there was every chance that the guards would turn him away from the gates as a begger, if they didn't take pot-shots at him for fun. No, something had to be done to improve his appearence and give him back a fraction of his respectability, so he resolved to head to the village first in order to find a willing tailor or unwary watchman. Even peasant clothes were better then tattered prisoner rags, even if they had to be liberated from a slowly cooling body.....
"Thank you m'lady." Galen stepped outside of the tavern and into the streets of Dhrim. The buildings looked the same as any city he's been in and despite nostalgia the city brings, he's grown to hate it. The streets were too narrow for him no matter the width and maybe that's because of how much time he's spent in the wilderness.
He walked into the marketplace to see the merchants peddling their wares to potential customers. Galen even spent a few minutes at the blacksmith to look at the armor, wondering what it was like to wear such heavy armor into battle. Then he looked at a weapons dealer who had weapons from all reaches of Calradia. The bows there differed in quality but the war bow really clung to his mind. Finally, he arrived at the fabric merchant's stall.
"Serina told me you've got a problem, is there anything I could do to help?" Galen asked.
"This is what you bring me, Lucius? This is what you bring me?"
Maelum looked on at the crowd of rowdy Nords that had assembled before him. His old company had suffered some bad losses after their last big job and their supplies had dwindled. After that the rest had gone there own way, one after the other. And each of the worthless gits took more than their fair share of the coin with them. The only one that had stayed was Lucius. A weedy, red headed young lad that they'd picked up in Praven. He was useless in a fight and timid to boot, but Maelum liked the boy. He reminded him of a puppy... with three legs. And to his credit the boy could write and work the numbers. So eager was he to prove himself that he'd gone out and found the biggest, hardest looking brutes he could and made sure to tell them a mercenary company was recruiting in the local tavern. Nine had actually turned up.
The streets of Sargoth were packed with MAelum's kind of people. Forward, tough and relatively honest. The nords were his kind of fighters, a bunch of foot sloggers. And they looked after their own, something sorely lacking in his native Swadia. He was born in the wrong country.
Maelum made his way to the front of the group and cleared his throat. He'd spent the morning working on a rousing speech to inspire loyalty and get them riled up. "Wel-" He was quickly drowned out by the bunch of them trying to out shout each other. This wasn't going to work. He had to show he was a man they HAD to listen to. So with that in mind he singled out the biggest man in the line up. A bald, bearded man with a gut the size of a keg. It was like looking into his bleakest of futures.
So after making a mental note to ease off the red meat Maelum walked up to the big man without a word and nutted him in the face. flooring him like it was nothing. After that, he laid out the ground work of how things would be if they signed up with his troupe. Not a very inspiring talk but he got a cheer at the end before he told them all to go over the Lucius and make their mark on their contracts. The boy was like a Saranid swordsman when it came to wielding a pen and someone had to to do the paperwork. Maelum never did have a lot of letter.
With a good group gathered up Maelum had to find a way of getting them paid. 15 Denars wouldn't get him far. He was the one in charge now and Maelum was determined to become more than some back footer sellsword. It was time to get started, he shuffled through the collection of papers Lucius had gathered from the job board in Sargoth town centre. Looking for a good paying bounty or escort job... maybe a kidnapping.
Trish joined her party after breakfast. "It is time for another training round," she said, looking around. The men nodded as they grabbed their weapons. Trish climbed on her horse and saw the unmotivated look on a few faces, she though of a clever plan to motivate them. "Whoever manages to beat me gets 20 denars." Trish said, looking at the men. The men all looked a lot more motivated to train now. Trish eventually managed to beat them all in a duel, this was not a big surprise however. The fight against Sir Henry had been a close call, but eventually Trish had managed to beat him too.
The men were busy training with each other when Trish spotted an exhausted looking farmer running towards their party. Trish gave her horse the spurs and rode over to the man. She stopped right before him and dismounted. The man began painting for air. "Please help my village!" he begged Trish when he finally spoke. "Calm down sir, I will help your village but you need to tell me more first." The man nodded, he still looked panicked. "God bless you sir. And ask whatever you need to know to help my village." There was hope on the man's face. Trish said, "We need to know which village you are talking about, and what problem there is." Trish and the man were walking back to the camp. "Everyone gather around!" Trish ordered and her party quickly joined her. She offered the man some water, which he accepted gratefully. He began telling them about his village and the bandits.
Trish nodded as the man finished his story. "You will help my village right? He asked, a bit panicked. Trish nodded, "The knight order lives to fight injustice, crime and protect the weak, and this is all three of those things. We will break up our camp and ride towards Azgad at once. It would be best for you to rest for a while, search for your fellow villagers and then return to your village. We will have freed it by the time you arrive." The man smile was a mix of happiness, relief, and hope, "Thank the gods sir." Trish smiled as she stood up. "You all heard me men. Break up camp and be ready to ride in 10 minutes." The soldiers ran towards their tents and began to pack up, Trish also packed up her things.
8 minutes later Trish and the rest of her party were on their way towards the village of Azgad. Trish was furious, she could never understand what fueled such barbaric men. But she would strike the bandits down, they would free this village and make the world a bit safer. Because of their horses and the speed with which they were riding, Trish was sure they would reach the village in about 2 hours.
The caravan ambled along, not a bit concerned. Bariyye was said to be a fairly safe city, and the young caravaneer had been told it would be an easy route. They weren't carrying anything especially valuable, just a few bundles of cured hide.
They came up across the broad, clear desert, completely unsuspecting and completely unprepared, with seven Khergit horsemen and one caravan boss.
It was a slaughter. Raddas and his men hit from the north, scattering the rest of the party before them, then the rest of them hit the scattered forces.
It was an unexpectedly easy win, for some small amount of gain. His men were getting restless. They were in a bad place, where only a few caravans went, and the local lord was beginning to tire of them preying on what little commerce there was.
Mr.Ivebeenframed said:
"Serina told me you've got a problem, is there anything I could do to help?" Galen asked.
The man looked up, alarmed. He shook slightly, as he carefully placed his hands on his stall, in plain view.
"You tell her I will have her money. Just please don't hurt me." his voice shook, but he kept his face solid. "The bandits have only gotten worse since Rindyar fell. I've lost almost everything. Please, just tell her I'll have it eventually."
It would appear he thinks Galen is a loan collector.
Geth Reich said:
It was noon when Jakob reached the border between Khergit and Sarranid lands, the land changing from verdent grassy steppe to sandy plains.
The village of Mazigh was small, but it seemed fairly wealthy, from the trade passing through between the Sultanate and the Khanate. They did have a tailor, but he catered more to women and farmers, no clothes fit to approach a lord in.
Alternatively, there was a small barracks in the town he could slip into- at a risk, mind you- and either steal watchmen's clothing or kill one of the sleeping watchmen and take his armor and weapons, at a greater risk of being caught.
Dogmatic99 said:
[Maelum looked] for a good paying bounty or escort job... maybe a kidnapping.
Three bits of information immediately presented themselves: Nords were cheap, and often payed in food and supplies rather than cold, hard denar. The third thing? Many contracts were for single swordsmen looking for a quick meal, not a company of soldiers.
However, two choices presented themselves after Maelum discarded the pointless thing- he really ought to teach the lad what was worthwhile and what wasn't- that would provide some of the cash he needed.
The first option was a bounty hunt, a particularly wily outlaw who had slipped through the fingers of the last man to chase him for five hundred denar, and the adulation of his victims, who were many and varied.
The other was an assassination, whatever the paper said. The job was to head to the city of Tihr- really no more than an afternoon's ride- and lure out a particular man who owed the job provider some money, and either kill him and take it or theaten him into giving it up. It would provide a thousand denar, but it may not be the best idea to start off by being known as a killer.
Floris2123 said:
Trish was sure they would reach the village in about 2 hours.
Two hours passed, and lo and behold, the village was in sight. The bandits, however, were nowhere to be seen. Judging by the horses tied up outside, they were in a slightly larger house. The residents all seemed to be hiding inside, those who were still alive.
They could, if they chose, attack the bandits straight away, with no stealth or trickery. Or, they could set an ambush or two. Slightly less direct, and slightly less honorable. The choice was hers.
Raddas growled angrily. This was not what he expected. But still, as usual, they had taken the vast majority of the prisoners alive, including the caravan boss himself. "You!" he turned and faced the whimpering man "Your caravan is near empty. WHERE IS YOUR CASH CHEST!" "I...I have no idea what you're talking about" cried the boss.
Raddas swung his mace angrily at the sand next to his head. "Tell...me...NOW!" "We don't have one! It was a poor season!"
Raddas growled again. This caravaneer was trying his patience, but then he smiled menacingly. "You." He gestured to one of the bandits who walked over grinning maniacally. Raddas pressed his knife into the bandits hand. "Torture him until he tells us where the cash chest is hidden. Then when he has... torture him for another minute for making me mad."
As Raddas turned and the bandit started towards him, the caravaneer screamed "OH GOD NO! IT'S HIDDEN IN AN ALE BARREL! THE TOP OF THE BARREL IS FILLED WITH WOOL! PLEASE BELIEVE ME!" Raddas turned to the wreckage of the caravan, and sure enough, there was a small chest brimming with denars. Raddas put the chest in his saddlebags and turned back to retrieve his knife. "You see that? You just downed your torture to a missing finger." He removed the ring finger of the caravaneer, who then promptly fainted.
With the man's voice, it was obvious that he somewhat feared him much to his surprise.
"Oh, you mistake my intentions my friend. I was just asking if you needed help. Serina told me you had some bandit troubles and that's it. I'm a hunter of deer not a damned tax collector." Galen leaned on the stall, looking the man in the eyes. "I'll strike you a deal. I'll find the bandits, get everything they ever stole from you, you pay off the tavern keeper, and I get a cut. Is that fair?"
"Well needs must." Maelum muttered folding the bounty notice into his coat for a later day. Criminals came and went but a 1000 denars would set his fledgling company up pretty and sweet. "Lads we're going to Tihr!"
A few hours later and the party had arrived in Tihr, just as the sun was beginning to set. Maelum was the first to arrive, being the only one with his own horse. As for the rest, they arrived by trading cart. It cost Maelum the remainder of his cash, making it even more important that this job went off with out a hitch. As soon as they arrived he set his men about finding any information they could about the mark.
By nightfall Lucius had worked his wordy magic again and had more than pulled his feather-light weight. He had found out that their target frequented a tiny tavern just off the main street. Maelum and a detachment of his crew waited outside the pub in a cramped back alley. The others were inside the establishment mingling with the crowd and keeping an eye on the mark.
Eventually he came stumbling out, reeking of drink and better yet; alone. At a wave the group of hired swords (or axes in this case) were on his tail. Trailing behind him at a distance. After a good while of stumbling the fellow found his way home. Just as his keys were put in the lock Lucius came scrambling forward crying in his childish little voice. "Sir! Sir, help it's my mother! She's broken hip!" It was enough to cause a distraction. The man seemed more startled than concerned and for all his muddled senses Lucius was able to grab him by the hand and lead him away from his door and right into Maelum's waiting arms.
"Hello deary." He smiled before punching the in the gut, causing him to keel over. Maelum slung the fellow over his shoulder as his lads nabbed the key and opened up the house and made their way in. Once they were all gathered and had locked the door behind them, Maelum slumped his charge in a chair in the living room and tied him to the chair. "You three," He said pointing to some of his lads. "Search the house, I don't want any surprises." He turned to Lucius. " You go upstairs lad, look for any valuables and don't come down till I tell you. You two go with him." He motioned to a pair of of his Nords. There was no need for the boy to see what was about to happen.
Once everyone was about his task, waking up his captive and shooting him an affable grin. "Now my good sir. You owe a client of mine some money and he's sent me to collect. The question is how are we going to do this? Now just because you're tied up and your home's been invaded doesn't mean we can't be civil. What's your name sir?"
Trish and the rest of her party approached the village, carefully looking for ambushes. When they made sure there were none she looked at sir Henry. After a short talk they made a plan, they hid the horses outside the town and went into the house of the village elder. The village elder looked afraid, he was holding a large club and said, "Leave at once or I will kill you!" Trish held her hands up showing she wasn't a threat. "I am no threat to you, village elder of Azgad. I was approached by a few people who fled from your village, they asked me for help. And as my code of honor demands, I have come to help you."
The man's expression changed, he smiled a bit as he lowered his club. "But if I want to save your village, I will need your help," she said. The man nodded, "Whatever you need... Who are you anyway?" She smiled and answered, "My name is Tristan de Molay, I am the leader of the knight order. But that is all irrelevant right now, what I need you to do is gather as much people as possible and make a lot of noise. It will draw the bandits out of the big house, and when they give chase we will ambush them." The man nodded, "I understand, I will gather the villagers at once." The village elder left his home and ran towards the closest house. Trish strategically placed her men around the village.
They were all holding their swords and shields ready. A few villagers gathered in the village square, they were all holding 2 pans. They began beating them against each other as hard as they could, making a lot of noise. Trish and her men were all ready. As soon as the bandits went outside the battle would start. The villagers would flee and the bandits would chase them. But what they didn't know was that they would be ambushed by well armored men. Trish prayed their attack would be successful, she saw that all her men were still in place. The door of the house opened, it was now or never.
Their earnings from the venture- though not as great as might be hoped- were fairly substantial, several rolls of cured hide and 250 denar from the small chest.
Raddas' men gathered up the loot from the dead, and prepared to ride.
Mr.Ivebeenframed said:
Galen leaned on the stall, looking the man in the eyes. "I'll strike you a deal. I'll find the bandits, get everything they ever stole from you, you pay off the tavern keeper, and I get a cut. Is that fair?"
The man looked at Galen very intently, then nodded, relieved.
"Oh, thank the gods. I couldn't hire anyone without gold, but I couldn't get any gold without hiring anyone." he stammered. "The knaves have a camp somewhere east of here. I don't quite know where. You might want to ask at Amere and see if anyone knows. Oh, and... You have my gratitude." he said, regaining his composure somewhat. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along."
Dogmatic99 said:
"Now my good sir. You owe a client of mine some money and he's sent me to collect. The question is how are we going to do this? Now just because you're tied up and your home's been invaded doesn't mean we can't be civil. What's your name sir?"
"James." the man stuttered. Being drunk, scared, and tied down weren't very conductive to being clever.
The house was fairly plush, with well-made furniture and such. It was readily apparent the man wouldn't have any trouble paying the debt.
"I didn't borrow any money! He's lying, I tell you! Lying! Spare me! What's he paying? I'll beat it! Just let me go!"
Whether or not the man was telling the truth was of little matter. Money is money. But having a reputation for taking jobs then reneging on them isn't a good thing for a mercenary, especially not in the Nordic kingdom.
Floris2123 said:
Trish prayed their attack would be successful, she saw that all her men were still in place. The door of the house opened, it was now or never.
The bandits exited, only a few wearing their already-meager armor, though all had their weapons drawn. Eight of the bandits exited, looking confusedly at the villagers with their pans. The villagers turned and ran, dropping the cookware as they did so. The clatter of the falling pans completely covered the sound of Trish's charge. It was over before it even began.
There were four more men inside, who now knew there was an enemy outside. Unfortunately, they had no ranged weapons so they could only attempt to find defensive positions.
[I tried to find a roll dealing with fighting inside, but I couldn't see anything. Yay. So roll a normal d20, if it's 5 or above you win, anything less and you win and lose one man. I haven't posted the rules for ambushes yet, so you just kind of won that one. :|]
Gerick Crito hummed a tuneless ditty as he sat under the massive tree that dominated this bend in the road. He realized that he might look a little silly, out here in the open, carving a small bit of wood while apparently not doing anything else. This section of the road was a bit far from the woods proper, but trees and bushes were still scattered about in various sizes.
Just as Gerick was realizing that he would have to actually decide what he was making soon with the bit of wood he heard a bird call out from a short distance down the road. Gerick, having lived in the area all his life easily identified it as a rare 'man trying to imitate raven'. Gerick sighed resignedly; Michal was certainly energetic, but he still needed to work on certain aspects of his profession. Gerick shook his head clearing that though, he had other things to deal with at the moment.
Sheathing his knife and dropping the bit of wood, Gerick pushed himself to his feat and whipped a bit of dirt from his hands. It was only a minute or two later that the caravan rolled over the slight hill top and into view. Gerick left his bow by the tree as he began to stroll over to the carts, if everything went well he wouldn't need it anyways.
"Hail!" He cried out from a small distance with a smile. "How does the road treat you?" Gerick asked as he approached the man who was obviously the leader. "Perhaps you've heard that these are some of the safest roads in all of Calrad, well it's true I tell you." He continued, projecting a bit of pride. "Though..." He suddenly trailed off a little, his voice becoming lower and more conspiratorial. "maintaining such safety is a bit costly; perhaps I could ask you for a simple donation of say..." Gerick glanced over the carts quickly and did some quick arithmetic "40 denar to make sure that the roads stay safe." Though Gerick's smile stayed friendly and easy his eyes held a steely edge as he watched the caravan leader for a response.
Well that was an interesting offer. A thousand denars was good but more than that? And on his first day as a company commander. With that kind of money Maelum could hire a fresh batch of men - veterans - and still have money left over to kit them out in some respectable gear. He could see it now, Standing there at the head of a mighty shield wall, his sword held high and proud... he couldn't lie he was tempted.
But he had been in this game long enough to know that reputation is what pays half your bills. That was his reasoning behind taking this job. This kind of job pays well and spreads the word that you're not a man to be trifled with. Someone to be feared if it all goes right, which was exactly the kind of man kin gs like to hire to their sides when the swords start coming out. Still the men he had with him were looking at him expectantly. He could see it on their faces, their greed fighting with their personal sense of honour.
James clearly wasn't lying about his offer. This house was plush, the man was set up. Maelum found it hard to believe he had to borrow money when the contents of this floor could probably net more than the price on his head. MAybe he was right. Maybe his employer was lying.... but that didn't matter now. dice had been cast and the plan hadn't changed.
"James you seem like a good man and I'm feeling generous. I'm going to help you get yourself out of here. I have, this very morning, hired myself a good animal and cart to bring my men and any supplies I need from place to place. Now for a limited time I'm willing to use it to take you and your valuables to safety." He signalled to his men to start carrying James' valuables out to the cart they had used to get to Tihr. "I'm willing to act as escort for you this night James. So what's it going to be?"
8 bandits stepped out of the large house with their weapons drawn, all of them wearing meager armor. The villagers fled and Trish and her party charged as soon as the bandits gave chase. Trish ran towards the largest of the bandits. He looked confused and lifted his 2 handed axe. He swung his axe at her, she ducked avoiding the blow. She then quickly rose and stabbed her sword forward, piercing the man's chest and heart. He looked surprised and then fall backwards on the ground in a puddle of mud and blood. Trish looked back to see the rest of the bandits also laying dead. She made a gesture and asked Sir Henry, Gregory and Jonas to join her. Jonas looked a bit panicked, but he lowered his helmet and joined Trish near the door.
Trish quickly gave them orders, she would charge in first followed by Sir Henry and Gregory and then Jonas. Trish opened the door and charged in. There were 2 guards standing near the door. Trish smashed her shield against the head of one of the guards, and stabbed the other. She then quickly took her sword out of the dying man, side stepped and stabbed the other stunned guard. Sir Henry ran in, jumped over a table and smashed his opponent's head in. Gregory ran toward the last opponent. The bandit made a downward chop with his axe. Gregory parried the blow and Jonas appeared behind him, attacking the distracted bandit and slashing his throat wide open. Blood spewed from the wound as the bandit slipped and hit the ground.
Sir Henry began cleaning his 2 handed sword, Gregory thanked Jonas. Jonas was looking a bit shaky. Trish placed her hand on his shoulder, "Good job Jonas, I knew you had it in you." Jonas forced a weak smile, Trish lifted her arm and said, "Take any valuables the bandits had, and meet me outside." She walked outside, heading towards the place she had promised to meet the village elder. She spotted him looking worried and walked over to him, "All of the bandits are dead, your village is safe now." Trish said, the village elder seemed relieved.
"Thank you my good sir. I'll be back." Galen gave a friendly nod to the man before leaving.
He walked outside of the Dhirm where he saw Verdan and his men, ready to ride out.
"Well? Any leads?" Verdan asked, eager to serve.
"We're heading to Amere, my friend. There's a fabric merchant in need of our certain kind of help. I'm expecting bandits and nothing more. The villagers there will tell us where to seek although I have faith in out skills don't you think?"
"We wouldn't be nowhere without it." Verdan smiled. He looked to the men. "We're heading to Amere! I expect a few hours march to the place now get off your arses and get to marching!"
Galen arranged a plan inside his head. On the way to Amere he would ask any of the merchants if they have seen or heard of any bandits nearby and once he actually got to Amere he would ask the head of the village. That was a no brainer but using his tracking skills, he would arrange his band of merry men to stop march and see if there is a scent they could follow given it didn't rain. His men were skilled hunters and archers, with only five infantrymen armed with shields, swords, and javelins. This allowed them to be quick and hard-hitting as Galen favored speed over strength any day.
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