Hey, everybody! I'm totally new to this, but I love what's happening! Unfortunatelly, when I look at King and Country I see great stuff, but it gets confusing with that many people(probably because the idea is TOO good!) So, I'd like to start a thread along the same lines. Swords and sorcery, War of the Realms, type genre. Cool? Here goes: I'll be glad to keep it up.
One caveat: Only serious gamers need apply. No runon sentences giving your bio in one shot. Feel free to start your character on your FIFTH post as weel as your first! Use the preceding posts to weave your way into the main line, give yourself some development. Be creative.
Okay, here goes:
Rothran sighed in disbelief as he looked at the parchments in front of him.
So many.....
He lifted his gaze to stare at his charred walls, stone blackened by fire.
So many.....that he was sworn to protect.
His mighty arms ached with pent up rage and fatigue both. He needed to sleep, but sleep would never come. Not after what he had seen.
So many.....that he would never see again.
His ears still carried the cruel wind's report of wailing outside his castle walls. A few women who were strong had gone for help, but the only men left were here in his guard. And that number had been greatly.....reduced.
So many......that he would never be able to love again.
The parchments told of the casualties brought by the invading monsters. Not in two hundred years, since the time of the swarven Rocksmith Clan's greatness, had the evil flowed out of the mountain like water, destroying and burning what it touched. Ghouls, goblins, hobgoblins, dark elves leading the way with their gigantic eight legged mounts, even elemental forces had carried the day, and carried his people to their graves. His anger was matched only by his shame, that he had not been able to defend his people.
The woman gasped her greeting to the city walls, bowmwn watching her warily. "I am here to see the Great King Agron!" she wailed. "My people have been slaughtered by the Great Evil from Mount Polro!"
Half-interested eyes suddenly swiveled at that remark. Inside, the guards who chuckled at an old woman's plight now stared at the barred gates. The order was given-"Quickly-let her in!" Hands tightened on pikes and swords. Leather squeaked as men raised their heads from conversation. She was speedlily ushered in.
King Agron's head raised slowly as his great throne room doors opened. A wailing woman's cry echoed in his chambers. What was this? He hurried to her side.
She collapsed before he arrived. Holding her slight form in his arms, he gazed wonderingly at her face. A red scar blazed on her cheek. He had seen that scar only once before . . .
"Mighty King, your brother in virtue, King Rothran, sends word that his city has been utterly destroyed by the Evil from the Mount Polro. Stop.."she gasped, "stop these invaders. It has come, The prophecy is come. Ah." Her grasp of his shoulder slipped. She dropped her arm and flopped, dead as a beached fish. He stared, then lowered her form gently to the floor.
His mind raced. How to deal with this threat? His army was barely capable of defending their lands, let alone raising an army. He needed information. Standing to his considerable height, he nodded to his attendants. They briskly but gently carried this woman to a proper place.
Striding to his scribes' chanbers, he slammed the oak door aside, and pointing a gauntleted hand at his scribes' desk, he boomed:
"Set aside a new proclamation, Scribe: From this day forth, King Agron seeks strong and hearty souls to adventure for him on a quest unlike any this land has seen for two centuries! I seek adventurers to travel to the heart of Mount Polro, the home of ancient evil, to rid this land of creatures that were spat upon by our ancestors.
"Make it plain: this land needs heroes of great renown, who will stop at nothing to free the land. Note it, Scribe, and place it in everey public post in this land. That is all." He turned and stalked off.
One caveat: Only serious gamers need apply. No runon sentences giving your bio in one shot. Feel free to start your character on your FIFTH post as weel as your first! Use the preceding posts to weave your way into the main line, give yourself some development. Be creative.
Okay, here goes:
Rothran sighed in disbelief as he looked at the parchments in front of him.
So many.....
He lifted his gaze to stare at his charred walls, stone blackened by fire.
So many.....that he was sworn to protect.
His mighty arms ached with pent up rage and fatigue both. He needed to sleep, but sleep would never come. Not after what he had seen.
So many.....that he would never see again.
His ears still carried the cruel wind's report of wailing outside his castle walls. A few women who were strong had gone for help, but the only men left were here in his guard. And that number had been greatly.....reduced.
So many......that he would never be able to love again.
The parchments told of the casualties brought by the invading monsters. Not in two hundred years, since the time of the swarven Rocksmith Clan's greatness, had the evil flowed out of the mountain like water, destroying and burning what it touched. Ghouls, goblins, hobgoblins, dark elves leading the way with their gigantic eight legged mounts, even elemental forces had carried the day, and carried his people to their graves. His anger was matched only by his shame, that he had not been able to defend his people.
The woman gasped her greeting to the city walls, bowmwn watching her warily. "I am here to see the Great King Agron!" she wailed. "My people have been slaughtered by the Great Evil from Mount Polro!"
Half-interested eyes suddenly swiveled at that remark. Inside, the guards who chuckled at an old woman's plight now stared at the barred gates. The order was given-"Quickly-let her in!" Hands tightened on pikes and swords. Leather squeaked as men raised their heads from conversation. She was speedlily ushered in.
King Agron's head raised slowly as his great throne room doors opened. A wailing woman's cry echoed in his chambers. What was this? He hurried to her side.
She collapsed before he arrived. Holding her slight form in his arms, he gazed wonderingly at her face. A red scar blazed on her cheek. He had seen that scar only once before . . .
"Mighty King, your brother in virtue, King Rothran, sends word that his city has been utterly destroyed by the Evil from the Mount Polro. Stop.."she gasped, "stop these invaders. It has come, The prophecy is come. Ah." Her grasp of his shoulder slipped. She dropped her arm and flopped, dead as a beached fish. He stared, then lowered her form gently to the floor.
His mind raced. How to deal with this threat? His army was barely capable of defending their lands, let alone raising an army. He needed information. Standing to his considerable height, he nodded to his attendants. They briskly but gently carried this woman to a proper place.
Striding to his scribes' chanbers, he slammed the oak door aside, and pointing a gauntleted hand at his scribes' desk, he boomed:
"Set aside a new proclamation, Scribe: From this day forth, King Agron seeks strong and hearty souls to adventure for him on a quest unlike any this land has seen for two centuries! I seek adventurers to travel to the heart of Mount Polro, the home of ancient evil, to rid this land of creatures that were spat upon by our ancestors.
"Make it plain: this land needs heroes of great renown, who will stop at nothing to free the land. Note it, Scribe, and place it in everey public post in this land. That is all." He turned and stalked off.