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Song of Heroes IC

PostPosted: Fri Oct 19, 2018 9:39 pm
by Absolon-7
City of Velathri, Republic of Velathri

The afternoon sun's great rays beamed down on the bustling city and the faint green and golden landscape surrounding the rolling hills around it. Grey walls circumnavigated the inner core while small bursts of houses and shops populated outside the occasional gate leading travelers and caravans in and out through white paved roads snaking some distance away from the city. A great blue river bisected the city into two equal halves before leading off into the horizon and into the nearby ocean. The city's interior itself was a hive of activity as all manner of races and people's could be seen living, playing, interacting, and going about business. Located at the center was a great open forum where speakers made their case to willing audiences and up on a hill was the White Eagle Citadel home of the reigning council but beyond that in its very own raised district sat a vast gated off complex with a winding road leading to a ornate steel gate and a perimeter surrounded by lush evergreens.

The complex itself was straightforward at first. A large magnificent central building would be the first to catch the eye of any interloper that could be reached after a series of stairs. The main buildings itself was welcomed by a large courtyard filled with decorated shrubs and bushes with a set of twin fountains in its ends with one being much larger than the other. To one side of a courtyard was a squat but tall and deep-set building of not so clear purpose. Perhaps it was of religious use or something else entirely? On the other side was a caked field of dirt with several figures performing acts of mock combat and sounds of wooden weapons thumping with each other and yells and grunts of adventures exerting themselves. There was more to the complex but this would be the extent of anyone who was curious enough to peek through the gate. As such it was a normal day for the headquarters of the Paean Legion an esteemed organization dedicated to completing any set of odd jobs that needed to be completed. The Legion had a vast network of smaller offices and bases throughout the continent of Requiem but none came close to the splendor and size of the headquarters. And thus it was an average day.

At least that, that's what the high elf Roxana wished. She had gotten clearance from the gate guards and was walking to the main building's front door while rubbing her side. It still felt somewhat tender to the touch but she felt no pain from it and that was a very good thing indeed. Today was the day she had returned from a leave of absence from the guild due to an injury in her last contract taken. It was about time that she went back to work as staying stuffed inside her lodge all day for weeks wasn't something she was fond of. Going inside the building she could see the front desk was strangely open as usually there be lines from legionnaires with their parties waiting to confirm their contract. This was not the case all the front desk ladies were in idle chatter. Turning her head she saw that the spacious part gathering place part tavern was decently filled but nowhere near as rowdy as usual. How strange, thought Roxana.

Nevertheless, she didn't care that much. Going with groups could be such a chore. Walking all the way to the end of the room she came upon the great bulletin board where normally all manner of contracts where pinned. Something was terribly wrong. her eyes darted like flies across board hoping in a futile attempt she was somehow wrong. She audibly frowned and slouched in a sign of defeat as her fears came true. Normally there be up to a dozen or more contracts waiting to be picked but today of all days there were only three. Just three. Three measly papers pinned onto the wooden board. What made it pouring salt into the wound was how all of them were required party contracts with a minimum number of three members. With defeat settled in her heart she decided to read the contracts in more detail.

In the nearby McDooggle Bluff, a local shepard has reported sighting a large goblin camp beginning to form in the bottom of the gorge next to the bluff. Allegedly it is said to be a dozen or two strong but is possible that the number was over-exaggerated. The sight has been the recurring center of many other goblin uprisings and despite many burnings of the inside they keep reappearing. It is heavily fortified on one side of the gorge but the other side is relatively lightly guarded. A large cliff overlooks the gorge offering a great viewpoint of the contents. Unclear whether the head goblin is a chieftain or shaman. The City Guard has requested for a band of legionnaires to destroy the small camp before its grows into a large horde.
Pay: 1000 Ducats per adventurer
The merchant company, the Red Hill, has requested a group of legionnaires to escort a caravan as their own guards have mysteriously fallen ill with diarrhea all at the same day and time. Their route will go through a relatively well explored and maintained roadway at first but then diverge to a much more decrepit route on the way to the port city of Ostia. The path will go northward into the Tarchuna Forest pathway before returning to the main roadway systems of the coast. The company has stated the reason for the noticeable veering off the normal course was to avid the heavy tolls but caution and skepticism are recommended by the Legion.
Pay: 800 Ducats per adventurer
The famous retired Legionnaire, Ernst Byron, has requested for a band to arrive at a dig-site near the ruins of an ancient Healst Empire monument called the World Sword. The party is to arrive and be briefed by Byron before heading underground into the dig site. He specified that the location of a long lost artifact from his family has been discovered in the dig site's underground barrow but dangers involving magical constructs and aberrations have completely stalled his workers progress in digging. The hired legionnaires are to traverse the barrow and find their way into the Tomb Chamber where the heirloom is allegedly located. It was reported that his father had lost it going into the barrow decades before but any more detail was not offered. Food and lodge are to be offered to no expense and provided by Mr. Byron himself from his own wealth.
Pay:950 Ducats per adventurer plus a gift from Byron himself

Roxana stood with her jaw dropped at how generous all were. Six-hundred Ducats were more than enough to pay for an entire month's worth of rent in the city's more upper class districts. Good thing she owned her own lodgings in a quite middle-class residential district so she the rewards for each even more appealing as she'd have way more left over. Still she was left with the dilemma of finding a group to form a part with or at least a temporary one. Looking behind her it looked be a majority of Red Cloaks and it looked like quite a varied cast of ragtags with some faces familiar and other quite new. Just great, I'll get to team up with a bunch of whelps, thought Roxana. Nevertheless, by the color of her own Purple cloak she had to take charge in situation like these. Swinging her entire body around and placing her hand on her hips she took a deep breath and with an air of confidence spoke out.

"Alrighty, as I think we've all noticed, there's only three contracts today and all require parties. I would like to propose a party to take the family heirloom contract. I'm not sure if any you are up to it but if any of us would like to get payed today I don't see any other choice. Don't really care if any you take the others as I'm not interested in them." With her last words she stared intently into the tavern's crowd and waited for any volunteers that would take her offer.

PostPosted: Sat Oct 20, 2018 6:50 am
by Finland SSR
Simion Valerin, the marksman from Nur!

The training grounds next to the courtyard were, thankfully, not as busy as they usually are, with only several of the Paean legionnaires currently busy with close quarters practice, so Simion took this opportunity immediately, taking one of the new, recently replaced shooting targets for himself and unloading a couple of shots on it to keep up his skills. The procedure was far from simple, but it had been drilled into the marksman's head by now.

One, clean the gun. Two, pour the powder. Three, tamp the powder down. Four, drop the pellet. Five, drive the pellet down. Six, put in a paper stopper. Seven, drive the paper down. Eight, open the flashpan cover. Nine, pour in the flash powder. Ten, close the flashpan, and clamp the fuse. Eleven, aim and open the flashpan.

Twelve, open fire.

The rocketing sound of hand cannon suddenly echoed across the entire training grounds, and the center of the bullseye cracked and ripped open, with the entire carcassus slightly shaking upon impact. Perfect. More of shots like these and we'll be good.

The two bulky fighters currently practicing with wooden blades took a few glances at Simion upon the sound of fire interrupting their rhythm, then continued with their procedure. It had been a while since the marksman joined the Paean Legion, so the majority of the fellow adventurers had already memorized him as 'that cannon guy' and moved on, but when Simion first applied and showcased the thing he's most skilled in, he received far more than just cursory glances. Gunpowder weaponry was generally unheard of across the wider world, and especially not the experimental matchlock design Simion's father acquired by luck and passed on to him, but that didn't stop plenty from dismissing it as just a fancy toy with no real use in battle.

Simion ignored those comments. Obviously, much like any ranged fighter, he always needed melee support to make sure he isn't knocked down while reloading, but the marksman saw hand cannons as a field of technology with far greater potential than, say, the bow, which has already been pretty much perfected, could ever achieve. Perhaps you could one day see a battlefield with lines upon lines of hand cannoneers making up the majority of the forces? As long as you deal with that pesky magic first. Stupid mages always ruining the best dreams...

Simion's stock of gunpowder and bullets has seen a lot better days, however. Training always eats up a lot of his stock and the marksman's reserves of money were far from infinite, either. Looks like it's time to finally take on a damn mission for once. With that in mind, Simion picked up his bandolier and pulled it over his chest, same with the firearm itself, hanging it by a belt over his shoulder - far from an easy load to carry, but it was a weight he had grown accustomed to - and strolled off towards the main building on the Legion headquarters.

Surprisingly, the building was not as thick with aspiring adventurers at it usually was, with only a couple of souls present besides the ladies at the front desk. The reason for that got revealed as soon as Simion took a glance towards the great bulletin board - only three contracts were pinned across the entire thing - perhaps everything else has already gotten picked up? Well, at least all three of them had some meat attached to them - meat, in this case, being a generous reward in ducats to the adventurers who pick up on them and accomplish the task successfully. Hell, one of them was claiming to pay a thousand ducats to each adventurer. That would be enough to pay for a fairly cozy home upfront. Or buy him a few kilograms of gunpowder. The other two contracts weren't any less shabby, either.

One of the adventurers who had gathered up by the bulletin board, an elven archer by the name of Roxana, declared that she was searching for a team to go at the third of the contracts, revolving around retrieving a family heirloom at the request of the famous adventurer Ernst Byron. Since all of the contracts required teams and here he saw a team be organized, Simion decided to make a move.

"If you're proposing a party for the heirloom contract, then you can sign me up." the marksman spoke up. Let's just hope they'll have some of those melee bastards join up, or else this might be a very frail party.

PostPosted: Sat Oct 20, 2018 1:00 pm
by Segral
Oberon Klask
The Paean Legion HQ

The battlefield was an expansive place, full of everything you could need. Wooden weapons aplenty in the armory, space abound, targets and dummies if you so desired to slash the straw out of a stuffed scarecrow, even some targets for that donkey-ass Simion. Could he not stop firing his stupid cannon for one second? It was quite a nuisance to the ears, and it spewed the ugliest-smelling of smoke.

On the main idea, though, the battlefield was a great place. Oberon often went here to train in his martial arts, when he was not practicing magic or meditating in the lodge, or drinking in the tavern. The ale and whisky selection was incredible, what a great move to come here! But in the meantime, he was not drunk or drinking, so he was sparring with another Legion member, Hu, a nice enough, albeit tiny man from the Tejis Desert. He always won their matches, and today was no exception.

Oberon whipped forward with the heel of his hand, striking Hu's unguarded breastbone. With a cry, the man stumbled back in obvious pain, attempting to dig his heels into the ground to stop his momentum. The attempt was successful, as when Oberon lashed out with a spinning kick, attempting to strike his chin, the desert man parried with a block, locking Oberon's ankle and attempting to jerk it up to throw off his balance. However, it did not work, as Oberon simply pivoted on his other foot, pulling Hu off balance and causing him to fall forwards. The Tejis softened his grip on Oberon's ankle, causing Oberon to pull it out and whirl around, shifting his weight and slamming the same foot into Hu's gut, sending him tumbling to the ground with an obvious grimace of pain.

Oberon walked over to the dropped man amid the clouds of dust kicked up, no expression of passive emotion on his face, eyes closed, almost like he was sleepwalking. He stopped right at Hu's feet, opening his dark brown eyes to see Hu clenching his gut in pain. For a few moments, just some pained grunts from down below, before Oberon threw his head back, hands on his hips, and let out a big guffaw of joy.

"You know, Hu, you would have more luck if you kept yourself rooted, used your opponent's weight against him." Oberon said, pulling Hu to his feet with one easy grab.

"How can I do that when my opponent weighs more than a cannonball?!"

"Simple, pull back. How can I pull you around if you're pulling in the opposite direction? In fact, you might've won that fight if you had just twisted my leg before pulling up, thrown me off balance."

"I...I'll keep that in mind next time." Hu spluttered, causing both to chuckle.

The two began to walk back to the tavern and gathering hall, muddy, bruised, and sweating hard. Hu was dressed in a full set of comfortable, light clothing, while Oberon was wearing nothing except for what looked like several ragged sheets wrapped around his torso to hide his inappropriate parts. No shirt to cover his muscular bodies and inked markings, and no shoes to cover his worn, calloused feet. In fact, it was difficult for any Legion member to remember a time where Oberon did wear boots or a shirt. But that was how he felt comfortable, and with his height and impressive build, nobody was inclined to object, for Oberon's own health or otherwise.

The walk was quick, but something was off about the gathering hall. Usually there was more people. Much more people, eating, drinking, and discussing the recent contracts. But for some reason, today seemed quieter. He spotted Roxana in the crowd, a rare sight these days after she had gotten injured, but other than that, very few seemed to show up, at least compared to other days.

Stepping into the crowd, he muscled his way through to the bulletin board. He was running short on money, as he hadn't taken many contracts lately due to training so often. He would always tell himself he was ready to take a new contract, only to put if off and train more. However, the sight on the bulletin board did not give him much hope for future earnings, and as a whole, was a pretty good explanation for why there were so few people.

There was nothing there.

Sure, there was three or so, but compared to the dozen that were usually there, it was paltry. But looking closer, these contracts seemed to be special. Each one was 800 Duscats are more, plenty of money for anyone on board, more than enough that once could ever need. Meat would be pocket change, a rich house would be easy, all the antiques....perfect. Now was his chance!

He heard Roxana's voice cut through, announcing the need for a team to find Byron's artifact. The contract in question seemed to be pretty easy, just go to a dig site and find some treasure. Plus, the 900 Duscats and special gifts made it well worth it. Only Simeon and Roxana were on it, and they would need someone for close quarters combat, like him.

Upon a nudge in the ribs by Hu, Oberon spoke up, in a deep, rumbly baritone.

"I volunteer to search for Lord Byron's artifact. If you could, I would like to be signed for his team.If we are truly making a party, that is." he said, stepping forward with his

PostPosted: Sat Oct 20, 2018 3:39 pm
by Nuridia
Pandia Arjumi

Pan had been sitting in her room ever since she woke up this morning, this time her spellbook had been reading out to her the ingredients for an invisibility potion. She’d asked one of the staff who kept the compound clean to sit with her and be her set of eyes...potion making was fun but it was all fun and games until somebody gets a finger snipped off. Maisie was a sweet girl, and she got to learn a few tips and tricks in exchange for her help.
“Cerberus, fetch me that vial of mushrooms over there?” A big, black shaggy shape curled up on Pan’s bed lifted its head up and blinked a large, blue eye before shaking himself and hopping down with a “grrrrrf”. His jaws closed around a glass vial and he sauntered over to her, dropping it into her hand. “Thank you, boo.” Petting his head, she uncorked the vial when...

“Shit! It’s time to look at the messenging board today, isn’t it? The new missions should’ve come in, I better go before we lose all the good ones!” In her haste to leave she remembered her potion. “Wait, I have to turn the fire off first.” Luckily the pot was right there and with a simple blast of cold wind, the crackling of the fire stopped. “Hold on...gotta store it or else it’ll be ruined if not completed. It should keep if I put a lid over it.” The *clank* of the lid going over the cauldron; and she took the harness from Ceberus’ jaws before attaching it to him and walking down the stairs leading from her chambers and into the grounds where doubtless others would most likely be gathered: now that she thought about it, maybe choosing a room that required stairs to access it when you couldn’t see said stairs wasn’t the brightest idea. Lord knows how many times she tripped over her robes on those stairs ever since she’d joined the Legion...maybe it was a pretentious wizard thing, who knows? Wearing traveling robes was easier tho, the hem stopped at just above your ankles so no tripping and it didn’t have all the yards and yards of cloth and pleats of a normal robe, but it was still kinda flowy so getting into the damned thing involved finding the sleeves.

Stepping out, she could make out Roxana’s familiar aura. Figures, the elf was almost always here first or at least before most people. She took initiative, quite admirable. And the sound of blasting guns and cannons filled her ears...welp, Simion was here too. And who was that other guy? Oberon, if she remembered correctly.

PostPosted: Sat Oct 20, 2018 3:50 pm
by The Republic of Atria
Valan and Aayla

Arriving at the headquarters of the Paean was a sight of relief for the two adventurers. Traveling the roads all day every day was not as fun as the story books would have one believe. Joining was a fairly simple affair, a quick demonstration of skills and getting chosen by a magic stone. For Valan, it wasn't too different from his home, where people worshiped a magic bonfire in the center of the town. Aayla on the other hand had limited knowledge and exposure to magic. She didn't doubt it's powers, not when her best friend is a man who's head looks like a torch whenever he donned his helmet, but it was still a strange and alien thing to her. She much preferred alchemy, it made much more sense to her and she was good at it.

Getting a room almost went poorly when it turned out that they were a few ducats short, but the owner of the inn let them share the room and said that they could pay off the extra whenever they could afford it. They were both relieved and all too eager to be out of their debt as soon as they could. The good news was that the Legion had many jobs available the next day. Both of them spent the night prior preparing. Valan mediating and practicing with his red hot blade, and Aayla gathering some ingredients to make a few basic healing potions for herself, Valan and whoever they would be working with. Better safe than sorry. The potions were potent enough to heal minor injuries. Cuts, bruises and maybe a cracked bone or two. She did have the idea of making a few explosive potions, but given her lack of funds and flasks beyond the ones she brought with her, she opted against it. For now.

The Room they shared was quite small. There was just enough Room for two beds and a place for them to store their equipment. Neither of them were willing to turn their nose up to sleeping in actual beds for the night. Weeks of sleeping in tents with poor quality mats had made them grateful for it. The couple awoke the next morning, Aayla a few minutes before Valan. Already wearing her signature animal skull and concealing her many knives on her person for ease of grabbing and throwing. Her potions were properly sealed around her waist, knives ready, cloak on.

Valan was a bit slower than his female companion, grabbing a fruit to munch on while he put on his armor. "Go on ahead. Check out what jobs the Legion has for us today. Preferably a high paying one. I want to get a head start on paying back what we owe." He spoke, as meticulous and as calm as ever.

"I will. Hopefully we get to do something fun. I don't wanna be following an old man picking flowers around all day." She replied. "Hurry up. I will leave without you if you're not ready when everyone else is." She spoke, turning her head so fast the spine to her "helmet" whipped around, almost hitting him in the face.

Valan knew she was skilled enough that the near miss was on purpose. "I'll be there, relax." He spoke between bites of food and grabbing his mask. It was his favorite part of the set. It was enchanted to make it look like his hair was on fire as well as protect his face. It added to his intimidation factor. The last thing he grabbed was his blade, brilliant flames shooting across the blade as soon as he touched the handle. There was beauty in it that he couldn't describe. Maybe it was just his affiliation with fire or maybe it was something deeper. He made his way out.

Meanwhile Aayla had gathered at the bounty board and was reading away at the jobs. A few weeks of little practice beyond throwing knives at small animals for food left her desiring for something more intense. Hm. Escorting a bunch of merchants? No. We've walked enough already. Retrieving an heirloom for a wealthy and powerful adventurer? Said heirloom being guarded by magical things that would probably need a good stabbing? Maybe. The pay is very good and has a bonus. She silently mused reading the last one: Extermination of a Goblin Camp. Her face lit up when she saw that one. She'd get to take out a bunch of pests and make sure her skills hadn't deteriorated. That, and she wouldn't have to dealing with the haughty Elf going on the heirloom mission. Nothing aggravated her more than arrogance.

Valan showed up a few minutes after. "Did you decide which mission we're going to take?" He asked as soon as she was within earshot.

"I did! We're going to go kill some gobbos! Stupid little green bastards think they on the place. I've got a knife for every one on their report, plus however many you set on fire." She spoke. "My friend and I volunteer for the Goblin extermination!" she said a bit louder than she needed to.

Valan kept quiet. He hadn't used his flames on living things in a long time. At least nothing intelligent. This would be a first for him. Lana Always told him that the first life he took was going to be the hardest, but every one after became much easier. Much like using fire.

PostPosted: Sun Oct 21, 2018 2:46 am
by Verwood Island Archipelago
Telsor Codan - courier/messenger/scout/procurement agent from Nur

Entering the main courtyard of the Legion building Telsor caught the whiff of cordite and caught sight of an obliterated target. Smiling to himself he figured that it could only have been minutes since Simeon, a fellow native of Nur had been there.

Approaching the double doors to the Legion office Telsor Codan nodded his head in greeting at the two guards. “How’s Leo.” He asked, referring the younger guard’s two year old son. “He’s doing great - he loves that wooden sword you bought for his birthday and he’s already racing around with it like a mad thing!” Telsor flashed the guard a smile and gave him a thumbs up. “Don’t teach him too early - he’ll have your job before you know it!” The two guards laughed as they waved Telsor into the building’s interior without bothering to check his papers.

Once inside Telsor made his way quickly through the corridors greeting everyone that he came across in an equitable fashion, whether they be fellow adventurers, a guild administrator or the old lady that scrubbed the floor. His greetings were genuine and had no ulterior purpose. It was just one reason for Telsor’s likability - basically he wasn’t a dick - it was funny though how many people were, he mused to himself.

Grabbing himself a coffee from the kitchen hatch entered the hall where he knew the bulletin board was located. Right now he wasn’t broke but the money he’d earned from his last job was running short and besides he was growing restless and needed to feel the open road once more - at least for a bit.

Inside the hall was quieter than he was expecting. Nodding casually to his fellow guild members he stopped to check out the bulletin board. Sipping coffee Telsor pursed his lips. Three jobs were posted but none of them were really his type of thing. He assessed them mentally. The Goblins camped at the bottom of the gorge could, in theory, be an easy target for anyone using ranged weapons from above. There was definitely something fishy about the merchant caravan and he wasn’t just thinking about what the guards might have had for dinner - that said his knowledge of the area could prove useful. The retrieval of the family heirloom sounded more like his type of thing but venturing into the underground facing ground all sorts of magic wasn’t really what he was best at.

Taking another sip of coffee Telsor considered his options.

PostPosted: Sun Oct 21, 2018 5:38 pm
by Pasong Tirad
Harald of Stoutshield
The Message Board

Harald woke up late. He had spent the last night drinking, in celebration of being finally inducted as a proper Redcloak. "Shit!" he exclaimed. He got dressed quickly, bringing with him all his equipment. It was his first day after his onboarding by the Paean Legion. He needed to get a contract. He was afraid of losing out on the good jobs if he arrived late. He ran to the mess hall as quickly as he could. By the time he got there, he was sweating and heaving. He wasn't built for running long distances, even though he really only ran a few hundred meters. After giving himself a moment to compose and grabbing a free tankard to drink water from, he looked to the message boards to see a Purplecloak addressing a small group of Redcloaks, with the odd Bluecloak here and there.

"Alrighty, as I think we've all noticed, there's only three contracts today and all require parties." Harald had to nudge his way into the front of the crowd in order to see who was talking. he made a bit of a ruckus as he violently elbowed anybody who didn't listen or wouldn't move. "I would like to propose a party to take the family heirloom contract. I'm not sure if any you are up to it but if any of us would like to get payed today I don't see any other choice. Don't really care if any you take the others as I'm not interested in them."

The High Elf Purplecloak spoke with an air of authority, as is befitting her status of being two ranks above his. He went directly to the board to see what she was talking about. He saw the contract she was talking about, ignoring the other two (the one asking for the clearing out of goblins would have been good for him, seeing his experience fighting them). He saw one word and that was enough for him: underground. Delighting in the idea of going underground to scavenge for ancient artefacts, Harald's Dwarven curiosity got the better of him. He raised his hand without hesitation after seeing two other men (one of them looking rather peculiar with his bald head and lack of armor or any proper clothing) volunteer for the Purplecloak's party. "'M a Dwarf, Boss. Ah have experience working in mines and will be useful for 'yer party." He raised his hammer, which doubled as a pick, in an attempt to show that he will prove to be useful to the Purplecloak. She was an archer, and one of the men who volunteered had a hand gun. They need someone to stand in front of them and stop anything from getting close. Hopefully, they would accept his offer. 950 Ducats would go a long way for Harald. And the thought of a special gift from the contractor himself helped pique the young Dwarf's interest.

"I'll be 'yer third man, so 'tah speak, if ye'd be willin'." He hooked his warhammer back onto his belt, his hand shaking a little in nervousness. Come on, take me, Harald was thinking. He really needed this job.

PostPosted: Mon Oct 22, 2018 8:14 am
by Verwood Island Archipelago
Having considered his options Telsor took another mouthful of coffee. Walking forward he tapped the Goblin Extermination job.

“If anyone wants a scout to check out the camp ahead of an assault I’m your man. Strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, threats and whether the boss man is a Chieftain or a Shaman - that sort of thing.” Draining the tin cup of its contents he added, ‘oh and although it’s not my strong suit I can hold my own if things get heated.”

PostPosted: Mon Oct 22, 2018 5:09 pm
by Turmenista
    Luca Greyfoot
    Paean Legion Headquarters

To Luca, nowhere else in the world made you feel more out of place than being a Lycan in the the Paean Legion headquarters, training outside of all places, in the middle of the hot afternoon. Lycan fur was excellent protection against the cold weather of the North and provided excellent warmth... but wasn't exactly the greatest when it came to hot weather. Most of the thick winter coat and tufts of fur that he had been well used to had already shed down to a shorter length upon his arrival, but that didn't do much in terms of trying to help him adjust to the change in climate and temperature.

To be fair, it was a rather large shift from living in the cool North all cozy to trying to get used to the much more temperate climate of the Paean Legion HQ further down south, but judging by how much he was exerting himself right now against a rather evenly matched sparring opponent, Luca had already become well-accustomed to the change in climate.

His red hooded fur cloak, which he primarily wore in cold weather over his regular tunic and feather necklace, had been discarded for obvious reasons; it gave him extra weight and only worsened the hot condition. The tunic wasn't anything that special either: just something that could get him through the warmer days and nights of the North, but had served him well in getting through... all-day down here. His two steel-studded leather arm guards had been kept on just in case he got into any scuffles later, which would aid him in unarmed combat due to the additional studs of steel on the knuckles, adding extra power to his punches. As usual, the scabbard of his rune-covered broadsword Illumina had been worn over his back, while the sword itself was used to block a rather formidable blow thrown at him by his sparring opponent's steel longsword.

Luca backed himself away from his sparring target, huffing, watching a red-haired man about his stature (and also from the North) named Edward do the same. He and Edward both came from a martial background and were both fighters, and both had coincidentally had found their way down to Velathri, which held the headquarters of the Paean Legion. Both also specialized in heavy weapons, and seemed to share a common history regarding wolves... One could talk to them, and the other could transform into a giant one...

Luca grinned, looking at the man as he opened his arms, circling him, as if he were about to embrace the man, with his sword twirling on one of his free hands—a "bluffing" stance he picked up from his father Nico, which allowed him to feign a sign of weakness and expose an enemy's weak points. He hoped to use this move against Edward as they dueled, but he had to remember: The man was more competent than any bandit or rogue knight or goblin he'd ever faced.

"Heh. You're hefting along a pretty large sword for someone of your stature. Are you sure you aren't tired yet?"

Before Edward could reply, however, Luca suddenly lowered his guard and stopped, his ears twitching as his heightened hearing picking up the sound of chatter coming from the main building of the headquarters. Evidently, people had begun to leave the area because of something apparently going on inside of the building, which quickly left the training field rather vacant (or, in the process of becoming vacant). Luca couldn't help but ponder about what exactly was causing this—Edward likely was doing so as well—so he simply dropped his stance, twirling his blade in his right hand and sheathing it on its scabbard.

"Something is happening," he informed his partner, nodding. "We should take a look."

He led the way to the main building, taking note of the rather obvious lack of people by the usually packed front doors, save for the females who worked at the front desk in idle chatter, nodding as the two men entered and continuing their gossiping (about the brolic pair of fighters that had entered, thanks to his hearing). Normally, these women would be at work, answering missions from legionnaires and their parties who wanted to confirm their contract, or assisting new red cloaks who happened to be lost or in search of a mission. Taking note of his own red cloak that he had tied to his waist to compensate for the heat, Luca let out a gruff grunt, enviously looking at Edward's superior rank. He shook off his little episode of jealousy and turned the corner into the commons, which too wasn't filled to its brim like usual. His watchful amber eyes scanned the tavern, spotting several legionnaires gathering by the bulletin board where the contracts had been posted.

Upon closer inspection, Luca found out why nobody was here: there were only three contracts on the bulletin board. All with decent rewards, sure, but three? Did Fate have some crazy plot planned for them, or had everyone gone in and taken all the contracts, left, and died on some crazy mission?

"Hmmph. Look," Luca extended a clawed finger towards the highest-ranking individual in the room, a purple cloaked elf he'd met once before named Roxana. Damn Elves, them and their pretentiousness, thinking they can rule the place with their little Wisps. Luca assumed a smug frown, folding his arms as he watched the other people in the room take their choices.

Might as well take mine. Exterminating a goblin camp...? ...The last time I did that, I transformed and ended up naked, no thanks. Caravan Escorts aren't my cup of tea—that leaves me with... some Heirloom retrieval. That sounds interesting.

"Well, as much as you might've wanted me to go with you hunting goblins," he turned to Edward nonchalantly. "I'm afraid I can't do so. Personal reasons."

Turning to Roxana, he spoke up from the back of the room. "I'll go with you to retrieve the heirloom. From what it looks like now," Luca paused, assessing the other two that would be accompanying them: a dwarf, a monk, and one of the very few—if not the only person—in the Legion using gunpowder weaponry. That makes two ranged, two melee. It's otherwise an even team but.. I'll take it. "It seems like you're in need of some extra muscle. I can fulfill that void, provided it's not during the night... for obvious reasons."

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 4:14 am
by Toaslandia
Hadrian was heading into Legion Headquarters. He had only recently arrived in the City of Velathri, and was a bit tired and hungry. He headed towards the mess hall, where he saw a purple-cloak elf, a marksman, a lycan, a dwarf, and a human, looking for people to join them on a retrieval quest.. "A chance to impress a superior and get paid? To good!" he thought to himself as he said "I'll help you ma'am. You'll be lucky to have a Sword-Singer on your side." She waved him over to the group and he walked over. He pulled out his sword and began polishing it, waiting for the group to leave.

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 8:04 am
by Union Princes

Inquisitor Strauch

Witch Hunter WIlhard Strauch, a redcloak like all the other new members, burst through the front doors of the Paean's headquarters in a huff. Having just gotten his membership yesterday, the one-eye grouch stomped his way towards the bulletin board. His leather boots made heavy steps that echoed across the floor and his tall witch hunter hat added more height to his already towering stature. Dressed in his usual attire and brandishing his rapier, falchion, and battleaxe at his waist belt, Strauch studied the gathering with his cold , raging right eye. A Dwarf, Lycan, and several humans gathering around a purple cloaked she-elf reading the quests available.

Giving a slight nod in approval to the elf, probably the one the members refer to as Roxanne, he hastily pushed his away through the small crowd and read the notices to himself. He must have reeked faintly of old blood to the other members as Witch Hunters seldom have the time nor the money to purchase soap and water for their clothes when traveling outside the Free City.

Apparently, heirloom hunting was fairly popular; perhaps it has something to do with Roxanne. Inquisitor Strauch can't find fault for her even if he was grimacing at the small party under his hat. How can he? From what Witch Hunter Wilhard has experienced fighting with his fellow Inquisitors, elves are unparalleled in combat and their medicine the finest in the old world. Despite his harsh expression, his right eye twinkled in small delight as Roxanne seem to take on the leadership role.

Turning his attention back the quests haven't fill out: goblin-slaying or escorting a convoy. Back in the Free City of Faith, goblins have been nothing more than an irksome chore. No matter how many times the Inquisition annihilate a nest, five more seems to pop up every time. Unless a shaman was specifically among this goblin camp, which the quest did not guarantee, then WIlhard will take this quest without a doubt as goblin witchcraft was deemed heretical from the Inquisition.

As for body guarding, that was something more manageable as this was one of the first missions that new recruits were given after their training at the School of the Defense against the Dark Arts. Success varies greatly from what Strauch can remember: some died on the journey, others deserting, and some making easy money without ever having to draw their blades out.

"Pay seems fair enough." Strauch grunted as his eye scanned the parchment, "I'll take this quest then."

Going to the front desk, he approached the person behind the counter. "I'll will be partaking in the Red Hill Caravan Escort. Since this requires a party, let me know if someone else wants to join."

And with that, Strauch stomped off to get himself a mug of ale to drink. May the gods bless his wretched body.

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 8:16 am
by Radea
Arden Rooke
Legion HQ - Notice board

As others began to chitchat and discuss the two tasks on hunting goblins or dungeon-delving with the rich elite, one man had his eyes squarely pointed at one contract in particular. A bench made a rough scooting sound of wood against wood as a broad man stood up with great excitement. He pointed to one of the contracts with some salted beef, still in his hand from his ration plate.

“Then it’s settled; that’s the easy money!” His voice sounded jovial and somewhat haunty. After recognizing the older man agree to take the Red Hill contract. As he walked up to the board, it was apparent that he was a man of a certain physical build, of human stock, but not wealthy by any means. His clothes were rugged, leather-made, and lacked any type of metal armor expect an iron shoulder-guard held secure by a hide-buckle that ran across his chest. The red cloak was adorned around his shoulders like a scarf more than a cape.

Marching up to the contract, he pressed his fist against the bottom of the parchment, “Red Hill Company Caravan! Consider me signed up.”

For those with keen senses, there was some determined false bravado on display here as well as perhaps some slick wit when it came to making money. The greater the group size, the more a contract would have to be split up between multiple people. The human was no fool; higher ranks of colored cloaks took their lion’s share as well if they pulled rank.

As if recognizing the suddenness of his grand pronouncement, he glanced around and scooted over to the desk attendants.

Arden took a rough bite of the salted beef in his hand. Chewing on it more slowly, Arden spoke sheepishly, “So, uh… Write me down for the Red Hill Company escort job. Ye-Yeah, Rooke spelled with an E at the end. Yeah. Thank you.”

Glancing to his left, he saw the scruffy and weathered man sit down to drink. Seemed like a salt-of-the-earth type. Arden’s kind of people. Pulling up a bench, Rooke leaned forward and asked in a hush-tone, “So… we split it 50/50? It’s like babysitting.” He took a quick bite off the beef.

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 8:32 am
by Union Princes

Witch Hunter Wilhard

Inquisitor Strauch felt his mood lighten up though a smile refused to appear on his face. While he was contemplating how long he was going to have to wait, his answer came right up to him in a form of a muscular young man. Tall and broad, he had youth on his side as seen by Strauch as he lift up his head to face his new party member. Good thing the scar over his left eye was not gruesome, last thing he wants is comment on his missing eye to be the first thing he hears from him.

But no, what the young titan said instead was much worse. Now Strauch wished he commented on his missing eye instead.

Slamming his mug down after drinking every last drop of ale, Witch Hunter Wilhard made it clear how misinformed the young man's words are.

"First of all, who in damnation are you?" Strauch demanded, keeping his volume low. "Second of all, did you even read the rewards? We're not splitting anything! It says 800 ducats per adventurer. That means 800 for me and 800 for you!"

And with that, Inquisitor Strauch barked out another order for a refill of his mug.

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 9:11 am
by Radea
Arden Rooke
Legion HQ – Meeting Hall
Rooke winced and then grimaced following the chastisement from the well-worn and possibly tipsy older man. “Maybe I didn’t read the parchment in full is all. No need for that…” Arden’s voice trailed off as he rested his chin in his palm, stuffing the last of the salted beef in his mouth. He adverted his eyes from the cohort he shared a table with. He didn’t want to make the situation any more uncomfortable by staring at the man’s scarred eye or other previous wounds. He may have had peasant’s manners, but those still accounted for some civility. The silence between the two was only broken up by idle chatter about the room and the chewing of the meat jerky.

With a reluctant swallow, the scorned legionnaire, started anew.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot here,” Arden rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment, “Let’s start this over. My name is Arden Rooke. And you, my thirsty friend, are…?” The lad gestured invitingly to the man possibly as old as his father.

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 9:20 am
by Union Princes

Witch Hunter Wilhard

Like an teacher scolding a student, Rooke seems to understand his mistake. Lucky for him, Strauch's mug was refilled and that meant some steam was blown when the Witch Hunter took a gulp of ale.

"I am Wilhard Strauch." He responded after slamming his mug down. "And you, Rooke, can address me as Witch Hunter Wilhard or Inquisitor Strauch. Understand? Good."

Strauch stretch the pronunciation of his name to make sure that Rooke did no make a mistake speaking of it in the near future.

"My title speaks for itself." Wilhard rubbing his aging cheeks, "I have been hunting heretics and other black beasts of evil for the past 36 years until I joined this clan. But enough of that, read as much as you can, boy. I know Witch Hunters who died due to their foolish assumptions by skimming across labels and descriptions. A body of text should not be more intimidating than tree chopping."

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 10:42 am
by Radea
Arden Rooke
Legion HQ – Meeting Hall

As Arden listened to his compatriot, he began to sit up straighter with each passing moment of realization. “Witch hunter? Inquisitor!?” He exclaimed in hushed surprise. As per usual, it seemed like the Rooke’s luck had flipped again, as it often did. Not only did he run into a person of stern religious conviction, but one who acted upon it with sword and word. Now this wasn’t a major problem for Arden, as he wasn’t one to dabble with dark magic or cults, but he wasn’t a pious man either. Just like his luck, the Gods were fickle creatures. How else could peasants and workmen explain the rotting of crops and the warping of wood?

Rooke inhaled through his lips shallowly, about to make some diplomatic remark when he noticed the red cloak of Strauch. The cyclops had laid out his titles to command authority, but that authority meant directly little in the Paean Legion ranking ladder.

The youthful legionary steeled himself before replying, rising from his bench with each passing word, “I may be young compared to you, but I’m not a baby-face like some of the other lot in here. I’ve been here and there, worked what feels like every job under the sun, and I can read, damn it.”

He was leaning on his hand now, tugging at the red scarf around his neck, “In this military order, we are of the same rank. Witch Hunter and Inquisitor don’t mean a damn. So, even if this is a milk run of a contract, I won’t weigh you down. I’m tougher than I look.” By now, you notice some steam is being lost here. Arden is slowly slouching back onto his wooden seat.

“…But in many cases, I’ll… I’ll defer to your wisdom, Inquisitor.” The lad ran out of flame. He slumped onto the bench and folded his hands into his lap.
Exhaustedly, he raised his finger for some ale as well. Liquid courage would have to do.

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 11:06 am
by Toaslandia
Hadrian had noticed the Witch Hunter take the caravan job. He went over to the desk and said "Take me off the heirloom job and put me on the escort." He then went over to introduce himself to the Legionnaires he would be joining. "Hello, Witch Hunter. I am Hadrian, Sword-Singer of Clan Sword-Singer, and a member of the Serpents of Skyer." He didn't mention that he was the last Serpent. "Now, may I know your names?"

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 11:10 am
by Union Princes

Inquisitor Strauch

"Inquisitor Strauch." Wilhard corrected sternly. "It's improper to just say "Inquisitor" when addressing someone. Not every member of the Inquisition looks like me in terms of attire. Alright? You'll run into Witch Hunters without thinking that they're witch hunters. Which is good as it makes the heretics easier to ambush when the wool is pulled over their eyes."

Studying Brooke's physique with his own eye, Strauch took the moment to consider the young man's words.

"You're right that being a Witch Hunter means nothing in this guild, the Paean Legion." Wilhard grunted, "But out there, it will matter. Especially among the churches, holy priests and the Free City of Faith as they recognize the status of inquisitors. And just like the Paean Legion, the color of our cloaks is irrelevant to the Inquisition."

Taking another sip of ale, Strauch continued: "There's only Witch Hunters/Inquisitors and Witch Hunter/Inquisitor Captains. And we have the authority by the Free City and by the Gods themselves to be judge, jury, and executioner when dealing with heresy though our judgement have been implemented in other areas of treachery and sedition. So I'll tell you this: just because I'm a redcloak here does not mean my status as a Witch Hunter is forfeit."

At that moment, Hadrian showed up and introduced himself to the old man. "Hello Hadrian." Strauch grumbled in politeness, "I am Strauch, Wilhard Strauch, and I am a Witch Hunter. What brings you here to this table?"

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 12:21 pm
by Toaslandia
Hadrian nodded his head to Wilhard in reverence. " I will be joining you on your mission. That is the reason I am here. You know, I knew some one from your order once. Came to Castle Skyer to find some demon worshipers who were seen in the area. Looking at him, you wouldn't think he was a Witch Hunter, or even a swordsman. But I tagged along to do some training on those cultists and see what was so special about him. When we encountered the cultists, he whirled into action before I finished felling the first cultist. By the time I looked up, he had felled them all. I respect your order's military prowess and discipline, and I believe it will help us here." Hadrian looked over to Arden. "Forgive me, kind sir. I haven't caught your name."

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 2:31 pm
by Radea
Arden Rooke
Legion HQ – Meeting Hall

When it came to politics, those from humble backgrounds didn’t understand the finer points of it. What was a noble different than any other noble? As long as they didn’t cause you problems, personally. Based on the words by Wilhard, the ‘Free City’ of Faith didn’t sound very free. Heretics? Sedition? How does one keep themselves from being shackled just because their neighbor got jealousy of their property line? I mean, if they had property in the Free City of Faith. By the sound of it, Rooke preferred his visits to the Merchant Cities in the Urban Center. Everyone seemed to have a price and that price was gold.

By now, Arden was looking deep into his hug, taking silent sips here and there, meanwhile glancing up at Strauch when he made a finer point. Perhaps… it might be better on the road to work with such a man. Combat experience? Seems so. Experience? Likely. Make Arden’s job easier for better reward money? Sounds like luck come’s in threes.

It was then that an armored man, Hadrian, was it? Directly asked Arden his name. He was in his own train of thought so deep that he was brought back to alertness mid-sip of his ale. Rooke began coughing loudly, pounding his chest with his fist. “Rooke! cough. Arden Rooke.” He wheezed out. The lad cleared his throat roughly.

“Apologies. Did I hear you signed up on the Red Hill company contract? You sound like you’ve crossed blades a few times. I seem to be quite lucky to have such experienced comrades for this one.” And by that, he meant less risk to his own life and less worry for good coin.

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 2:42 pm
by Toaslandia
Radea wrote:Arden Rooke
Legion HQ – Meeting Hall

When it came to politics, those from humble backgrounds didn’t understand the finer points of it. What was a noble different than any other noble? As long as they didn’t cause you problems, personally. Based on the words by Wilhard, the ‘Free City’ of Faith didn’t sound very free. Heretics? Sedition? How does one keep themselves from being shackled just because their neighbor got jealousy of their property line? I mean, if they had property in the Free City of Faith. By the sound of it, Rooke preferred his visits to the Merchant Cities in the Urban Center. Everyone seemed to have a price and that price was gold.

By now, Arden was looking deep into his hug, taking silent sips here and there, meanwhile glancing up at Strauch when he made a finer point. Perhaps… it might be better on the road to work with such a man. Combat experience? Seems so. Experience? Likely. Make Arden’s job easier for better reward money? Sounds like luck come’s in threes.

It was then that an armored man, Hadrian, was it? Directly asked Arden his name. He was in his own train of thought so deep that he was brought back to alertness mid-sip of his ale. Rooke began coughing loudly, pounding his chest with his fist. “Rooke! cough. Arden Rooke.” He wheezed out. The lad cleared his throat roughly.

“Apologies. Did I hear you signed up on the Red Hill company contract? You sound like you’ve crossed blades a few times. I seem to be quite lucky to have such experienced comrades for this one.” And by that, he meant less risk to his own life and less worry for good coin.

Hadrian looked at Arden. "Yes, I have crossed swords before. I am a Sword-Singer, and to earn that title means I have been deemed a hero by the leader of my Clan. I do hope you will fight in the midst of battle with me, as you seem to be a sufficient warrior for it." Hadrian patted put down his mug of ale and sat down. He only lifted the part of his helmet near his face, so only his mouth was visible. He took small sips of his ale, then spoke. "So, when is the caravan expecting us?"

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 3:34 pm
by Nuridia
By now the place was packed, and Pan was listening to snippets of conversation that were floating around her, basically listening to what the options on the bulletin board seemed to be. It seemed like the heirloom mission was a hot favorite as many people were participating for that one, maybe it would be safer for her to go on that one as they were only guarding one thing. But the goblins were where the money was, and the little bastards would be easy enough to fight off with a few ranged attacks.
The caravan? Probably would be the easiest option, but she did wonder how in the world ALL the guards suddenly fell ill with diarrhea at the exact same time. The thought made her chuckle to herself. “Either somebody can’t cook for shit in that camp or they have really weak stomachs, don’t you think so Cerb?” A bark was all she got in answer, and she could see by his aura that he was tilting his head to look at her. “I know you can’t talk, it just helps me to pretend you can. Anyway, I don’t buy that all the guards mysteriously fell ill. If it wasn’t bad food, they were either poisoned or they just didn’t wanna go. I think...yeah, I think going with the goblin mission would be my best bet.

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 4:09 pm
by Verwood Island Archipelago
Telsor’s ear pricked up upon hearing the dark skinned woman who had just entered, mention the Goblin mission.

Based on her robes and equipment, he assumed she had to be some type of magic user. Moving easily through the crowd toward her he smiled at the deduction - no shit Sherlock.

In front of her now Telsor saw that she was blind. Despite this he smiled, ‘Telsor Codan, I’m interested in the Goblin job too. I’m going to get myself another coffee. Fancy anything while I’m at the bar?’ Glancing down he extended his hand for the hound that accompanied the woman to sniff.

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 4:27 pm
by Union Princes

Witch Hunter Wilhard

"Yeah, that's about right fighting with an Inquisitor." Strauch remarked getting up from his seat after emptying his mug. "Sounds like an Elf or a Flagellant..."

After paying the bartender a few coins for the ale, Wilhard went back to the table to talk to his teammates. "Anyway, we should wait in case anyone else wants to join. Don't be so sure that this quest is an easy one. Danger is a unpredictable as the weather so be on guard at all times. After all, the perfect kill is when the enemy never sees you coming."

Pushing his chair in, the Witch Hunter continued speaking: "I'll be off to find a whetstone for my blades. You adventurers should too."

And with his message relayed, Strauch left the building in search of a blacksmith after notifying the front desk of his whereabouts.

PostPosted: Tue Oct 23, 2018 4:33 pm
by Toaslandia
Union Princes wrote:
Witch Hunter Wilhard

"Yeah, that's about right fighting with an Inquisitor." Strauch remarked getting up from his seat after emptying his mug. "Sounds like an Elf or a Flagellant..."

After paying the bartender a few coins for the ale, Wilhard went back to the table to talk to his teammates. "Anyway, we should wait in case anyone else wants to join. Don't be so sure that this quest is an easy one. Danger is a unpredictable as the weather so be on guard at all times. After all, the perfect kill is when the enemy never sees you coming."

Pushing his chair in, the Witch Hunter continued speaking: "I'll be off to find a whetstone for my blades. You adventurers should too."

And with his message relayed, Strauch left the building in search of a blacksmith after notifying the front desk of his whereabouts.

After Strauch left, Hadrian stood and said to Arden "I'll be out getting a new shield. This one's as useful as a bag of ants in a fight." He stood, nodded to Arden, went to the front desk to report where he was going, and left. On the way to the armor-smith, Hadrian pulled out a small whetstone and sharpened his sword while walking. Eventually he found a medium size shop called "The Lordly Armory". He stepped inside and looked around. He found a nice oak shield braced with steel and brought it to the smith. He looked up and said "35 ducats. No haggling." Hadrian sighed, pulled out the last of his ducats, and bought the shield. He then returned to the Legion Headquarters to rest before the mission.