Adventures in Farland [IC]

[UristMcRandom]

Ages ago, long before the Lord of Sloth took control of Zeland, the people of the nation were interred within great Towers of Waiting when they passed. The bodies were carried to the roofs of massive stone towers, where they lay in rest for a year's time. Here elements battered the body, removing the flesh and sending the spirits onto their next destination. After a year passed, the sun bleached bones would be cast down into the base of the tower, where a massive pit waited. This was the way of the first Zelanders, for the first 500 years.
The Battleplain is a region dotted with many Towers of Waiting. After a series of harsh battles against the resident barbarians, the king of Zeland had these many towers erected for the burial of the fallen. Many years later, after the Battle of the Axe, long after this tradition had fallen by the wayside, the Towers of Waiting were used again. Henceforth, the Battleplain had become a sort of noble burial ground, a place of honor in which to be set to rest. When the Lord of Sloth came to Zeland, the nobility of the Battleplain vanished.

Under the rule of the Lord of Sloth, all ambition and industriousness has been outlawed within Zeland. Though many (particularly those living in or near the capitol, Zel City) seem to have comfortably adapted to a life of complacency, there are a chosen few who have continued to practice their trades despite the laws. A small group of these rebels have established an isolated camp on the northern shore of Loch Brech, near the Battleplain. Mounting pressure from patrols sent from the nearby town of Hestor (or Hextor as the orcs call it) have forced the refugees to frequetly relocate their camp along the lakeshore to avoid capture.

Whether driven by persecution, a search for a place to work in peace, or pure chance, your group has arrived at the Loch Brech Camp. Upon entering the camp, you were immediately brought to the center tent, where the camp leadership conducts business.

The decor in the tent is spartan, to put it mildly. There is a support in the center, on which hangs an unlit lantern. At the end opposite the entrance is a table, seemingly designed to fit snug and secure into one of the carts you saw as you were lead through the camp. On the other side of the tent are three humans, each seated on a simple wooden stool. On the left is a middle-aged man, dressed in worn leather armor. It is obvious that, while he is no great hero, he has seen his fair share of battles. In the center is a young, plain looking woman, dressed in simple commoner's clothing. On the far right stool is seated a man, obviously past his prime, who has spent a life working hard. Each one looks at you with interest in his or her eyes.

The man on the left is the first to speak, "Welcome, lads - and lass, o' course - to our humble camp. What is it that brings ye here?"

[Nebula]

Martius looks up to the man, bearing a firm yet slightly confused expression. His voice sounds gruff, like he hasn't spoken with it for a long time, remnants of a city accent lingering in his voice.

Nothing really, I just decided to pop in, and I found myself being escorted here...

He pauses, head tilting down to his left, and then he looks up to the three figures again.

Actually, you are the resistance, yeah? I want to test my mettle, that's what I want to do. Oh, and I want food, that too.

His gaze persists, dead serious and unblinking.

[Rysto]

I am Diarmait Ua Cheinnselaig, and I have brought a shipment of weapons from Murchad Mac Gearailt. Diarmait looks down at his feet and then takes a deep, shuddering breath. It will be his last. The dark folk ... they found him. It was all my fault.

Diarmait looks up into the eyes of the man who addressed him. My whole life I have done nothing but cower before the dark folk. Murchad tried to get me to help him -- to help you -- but I was a coward. But when the dark folk came for me, Murchad helped me without a second thought, and he died for it. Only now do I finally understand what he was trying to tell me. I cannot hide from the dark folk forever. All that I can do is meet them at a time and place of my choosing, and ensure that I have steel in my hand when I do. You ask why I have come here? Because you are fighting the dark folk, and now I am finally ready to do so myself.

[Estralita]

Aida smirked a little at the addition of "lass". "It's no trouble. Flamgart would never stand this atrocity. And it's no coincidence that I arrived here just after my full initiation into his cleric order. Liberating thi land is my first test!" Aida pumped her fist, then blushed slightly. "With your help, of course."

[UristMcRandom]

The three leaders glance at each other, then the man on the right speaks:

"Murchad's weapons are appreciated, and his craftsmanship will be missed. However, you all seem to have us mistaken for some sort of revolutionaries. We're but simple craftsmen and women, practicing our trades."

The man on the left concurs, "My guards keep our camp safe from tha dark folk an' from tha undead tha' plague the lands as of late, but we dinnae go out of our way to make trouble wit' tha Lord of Sloth an' his cronies."

[Nebula]

Martius looks down, arms now crossed, and sighs deeply. With straggly black hair covering his face, he straightens his posture and peers at the trio with a mix of disappointment and anger. His voice raises significantly.

Don't tell me ay've wandered around the bloody place to wind up at a camp full of milk drinkers? I'd have at ya, but I can't be bothered fighting someone with na spirit...

After berrating the three representatives of the camp, Martius turns to the men and woman next to him. His mouth creeps into a crooked grin.

You mates, on the other hand, might actually 'Ave some in ya! You sound like you've got drive! Drive makes ya strongah!

Martius then resumes staring at the trio, arms still crossed.

[tbergman92]

The heavily-muscled barbarian silently watched the brief exchange, taking a moment to ensure he was properly understanding the others--the Anarian dialect was very...different...from the other human languages. Though Jarn had learned both Kingdom Common and Kelevan, he was generally concientious of his phrasing.

"I am here because I no longer have a home. Because I no longer have a home, I sought out solace by seeking to learn the smith's trade. I seek this art because I see the beauty of forged iron and steel--and feel the peace of working to perfect your craft." He looks slowly around the room, eyes boring into each of the leader's eyes in turn, before continuing, his voice growing more passionate as he continues.

"I respect your desires to pursue your crafts in peace. However, consider these things: First, it does no honor to your craft or trade, and brings no peace or joy to live out your calling in secret. If the gods, or your family, or a master, have instilled in you a love of a trade that leads you to practice despite the Lord of Sloth, then you should take pride in pursuing that calling openly, and strive to make the ability to openly produce available once again. Secondly, the very act of practicing your craft is a rebellion--Whether or not you call it such makes no difference to the Lord of Sloth. Which brings me to my final point: continuing this rebellion as you are is at best a short term dream--eventually the dark folk will find and end you. The only way for this dream to become anything worthwhile is if you stand up and fight to take back your kingdom." The tanned man concluded his argument, his passion filled voice hardening on the last sentence, delivering it as though a smith's hammer blow--designed to shape the steel he saw in front of him into something more.

[Estralita]

Aida harrumphed at learning the true meaning of the townsfolk's question. "So, if not you, where can we find people willing to shake off the shackles of oppression?" She glanced at the others who had answered similarly to her. "Besides these fellows? You seem alright."

[Rysto]

"I know all too well the truth in his words," Diarmait said, indicating the tanned barbarian. "I worked in secret as a smith, against the Lord of Sloth's edicts, and now I have little more left than my life. I do not wish to bring trouble upon you people, but the dark folk will come for you someday. There must be something we can do to help."

[Nebula]

Martius pipes in condescendingly:

"You could at least point us in the direction of a good fight! If not, I'll 'ave to make do here..."

His voice gains a particularly more aggressive tone as he continues. He forces his right hand on top of his left hand, clicking the knuckles, and proceeds to do the same for the other. While doing this, he intensifies his dead-set glare at the three leaders.

Martius is getting impatient, he's been itching for a fight since he made the stupid decision to leave a perfectly good group of fighters to try and get stronger by himself. He doesn't want to kill anybody, he just wants to stretch some muscles and perhaps see how strong the people here are. That being said, here is his roll to intimidate:
[roll0]

[UristMcRandom]

The man on the right and the woman shy away from Martius, but the man on the left steps forwards. Matching the fighter move for move, he cracks his own knuckles and glares straight at the fighter, "A'ight lad, you want a fight? Well I've got a problem you can solve. There are one too many undead as o' late. They generally wander in from the north, from the Battleplain. None o' our men can be spared now, so it’ s up ta you. Stop tha source o' tha dead, whatever it is. That sound like a good challenge?"

He looks at the others assembled before him, "And you all. You want ta help us? Destroyin' the source o' these undead'll free up my men, then maybe, I repeat, maybe you could convince me to start a fight wit' tha Lord o' Sloth. But not before."

[Nebula]

Martius's hostile glare grows even more intense, like he was ready to start throwing blows right then and there...
But then he starts to laugh heartily, a wild grin spreads across his face as he chucks his head back.

"Now ya talking! By the way, old man, the name is Martius. When I get back, how about we have a round on me? Eh?"


Martius will offer his hand to shake to the man, if he chooses to accept it. Here's a strength roll:
[roll0]

[Rysto]

Diarmait's mouth dropped open. "Un ... dead? Here? What kind of undead? What are they after?"

[Estralita]

Aida nodded curtly. "Consider it done. We will break you out of your stasis." Aida couldn't help feeling disappointed at such poor spirited citizens. But she would fix that, and start out striking a blow at the Lord of Sloth at the same time.

[tbergman92]

Jarn shook his head in disappointment as he listened to the conversation rather suddenly falter. It seemed that the people here were no different than those in his home--too comfortable in how things were to realize that the world was constantly changing, and that the only response to it was to forge yourselves into a tool to shape that change to your will.

He turned from the leaders and to the others that had been gathered here, "I am Járn Stálbjorn, from north of the Kelerek Mountains. I am honored to fight with you. Let us go and remove this impediment to these people's ability to see sense."

[UristMcRandom]

The older warrior grips Martius' hand firmly, "Now that's a deal I can get behind," he chuckles. "I'm Kieran O'Nel. My colleagues here are Ulicia, and Nathi O'Rorke," he gestures to the woman, and then the other man, "As for the undead, we've had to face mostly skeletons, though a few of my men have reported encounters with zombies."

[roll0]

[Nebula]

Martius looks the old man dead on during their handshake, and notices that despite his age, he still had quite the grip.

After hearing what the others had to say, he starts to frown...

"Well, I've had enough of gibbering, let's FIGHT! See you later, old man! TO THE NORTH!"

As he says this, he starts walking out on his own...

He then stops outside the tent, looking confused. He then proceeds to walk back into the tent.

"Damn it! Which way is north?"

Martius will say thanks, and will start walking ahead to the general source of the undead.

[UristMcRandom]

Ulicia speaks up, "When you step outside, head towards the smith's hut, it should have smoke rising from the roof."

She then turns to the remainder of the group, "Before you set out, do any of you have questions?"

[Estralita]

Aida had turned to leave, but stopped at the call for questions. "If you aren't the resistance, do you know where I can find them?"

[Rysto]

Diarmait thinks for a moment, and then asks, "Are there any settlements in the Battleplain that we ought to investigate? Has there been any pattern in the attacks that might indicate what their master wants?"

Upon receiving answers to his questions, Diarmait will leave and catch up with Martius.

[tbergman92]

"My questions will serve no purpose until we end this threat and you are more willing to listen to reason." Jarn left the tent immediately after saying this, and strolled to the smith's tent to await the others once they had completed their questioning.

[Nebula]

As Martius walks up the Smith's tent, he sees only Jarn to be close behind him as he walks. He sighs, and contemplates how best to ravage a horde of skeletons as he waits.