Band of the Black Hawk

[AlhazredTheMad]

Band of the Black Hawk //Always Open//

The world of Erydimus is at and, as far as the ones of daunting age can recall, always has been at war. Several titanic nations are combating for utter control of their known world: Ushiral (yoo-shi-rahl), the northernmost country participating in the War of Eternity, are a barbaric, nomadic type of people who have proven their ferocity in combat, and tenacity in the biting cold climate of the Ushiral mountains. Jiyarta (gee-yar-tah), otherwise known as 'The Evil Kingdom' lies on the eastern plains and coast, and is the largest of the competing sovereigns. The country's colors are, ironcially enough, the purest white, and cleanest gold. The Jiyartians rely heavily on the aristocracy of ages past, and chivalry and honor are the forefront of their community's facade. Their calvalry are the most feared in all of known Erydimus for their brutality. The lesser realms, Skier (sky-ehr) and Aroda (uh-rohd-ah), rule the eastern and southern regions of the continent respectively. Jiyarta and Ushiral retain enough military might to oppose each other and the lesser kingdoms without need of resorting to mercenaries. However, Skier's and Aroda's armies consist mostly of hired swords, and so The Age of the Mercenary began. Mercenary bands, far and wide, come to the kingdoms' aid in search of fame and fortune, but none would affect history more severely than the Band of the Black Hawk. Constituents of the Band of the Black Hawk are largely of non-human origin. The ranks range from the humble human, to the creatures clad in fur, who are as infinitely diverse as their canine ancestors, the Kisharyl, to even decendants of ancient soaring, element exuding gods, the K'vari. With recruitments from third and fourth tier commanding officers the Band of the Black Hawk has yet to make its mark upon the world. Total victories in numerous minor skirmishes have caught the ear of an Arodian general, however, and the Jiyarta are soon going to attempt to seize a fort critical to Arodian trade. The Band of the Black Hawk will begin it's conquest here, on Arodian grasslands, defending Fort Schierke from the Jiyartian's overwhelming numbers.

Guidelines:
• Everyone is fighting for the Band of the Black Hawk, you may choose to abandon the band, but you better have a damn good plan to back it up.
• I would very much enjoy having semi-literate RPers, this means proper punctuation, grammar, and spelling to the best of your abilities! I want you to abuse that shift key like it's your red-headed step-child, and ravage than comma key like you would your hot, totally legal step-sister! //Ahem//
• I would also like the minimum of one paragraph per post. It isn't much, I promise. Four to five coherent sentences is all I ask, I mean Christ, you guys are reading erotic literature, you should have picked up some new skills or words.
• I don't want a character skeleton, I would like for your character to be exposed as the plot progresses, like a novel.
• Even though there are furries and various anthros involved in this RP, it in no way insinuates that it is entirely homosexually oriented. Straights, bi's, and gays are all welcome, as long as they follow the rules.
• Magic is almost non-existant, and dragons are the only few that have control over them. The dragons are also colossal in size.
• If you have any questions, comments, and/or concerns, please notify me via PM. I won't bite if you don't want me to.
• I want you all to have fun! I fear I may have come off as a hard/tight ass, but I promise you I am very affable!
• Before you post, please send a PM to me asking first, please? I may not accept all of you, and I apologize beforehand for that, but I would like this to be an experience for all of us!


Current Members:
•AlhazredTheMad
•Niriate​

 

[AlhazredTheMad]

Shafts of light shone palely on the limp figures face. The holed canvas of the tent shifted in the passing wind, and the pillars of the morning sun danced across his face. The repitition of the transitions from bright, to dark, then bright again forced the figure to stir. A pallid, ivory eyelid slowly peeled open to reveal an orb of muted silver, punctuated in the center with a slit of black. The thing propped himself upon his elbow and blinked to clear the stars that formed in his eyes.

'Morning already?' the creature thought. He stood from his cot, which groaned in relief as he ceased to burden it with his weight. The creature reached for the apex of the tent with his fingers intertwined in an attempt to stretch. His efforts were greeted with several satisfying pops in his back. He shivered from the residual feel-good that zipped up and down his spine, but it left as soon as it had come. A breeze infiltrated the tent and teased at the thing's loins, which were exposed to the cool morning air, along with the rest of his muscular frame.

He turned to see the curves of a woman beneath the sheet he had just been under. She was a whore that his men had treated him to after word of new employment washed through the camp. She was fragile, and cried when the creature's impressive length entered and stretched her womanly tunnel. After the thing had expelled its load within the womb of the whore with a feral roar, she sobbed herself to sleep. Whether it was from pain or indignation, he would never know, but he would leave her to rest for the time being.

Slipping on a simple black cloth shirt and black breeches, the creature silently slid through the flaps of the tent. A few people cast an indifferent look his way, though none recoiled in fear from him. The sweet scent of scorched maple wafted through the camp, undoubtedly due to the numerous fires that were being stoked in the morning's wake. The creature meandered through the crowds of mercenaries, his clawed feet digging into the soft, cool soil as he walked. He came upon a well in not too long. He approached it and cupped his hands together beneath the water's surface and splashed the icy liquid across his face.

He stood there for no great amount of time, just staring into the ripples that appeared in the water as droplets fell from his snout. "Here you are, sir," chimed a voice behind him. The inhuman thing turned to see a towel being presented to him. He took it with thanks and wiped the water from his face. "I trust the escort we bought yesterday served her purpose well?" The creature lifted his face from the towel to look down at the smiling visage of a familiar human.

"Aye," said the thing that walked like a man and now spoke like a man, "You wouldn't happen to have a crown on you, would you, Algorin?" The human raised an eyebrow and looked to the sky as he fished around in his pockets until he produced a golden coin the size of a small skipping stone.

Algorin pressed the crown into the creature's hand and smiled, "What do you need it for, if you don't mind me asking that is?" The tall beast flicked the coin into the air and caught it in his palm, then pocketed it.

"No reason."

Algorin shook his head, still smiling, "Alhazred and his ways." The creature began to walk back in the direction of his tent.

The girl must have still been awake already, because as he pushed the flap to the tent aside, she shrieked. In an act of unnecessary modesty, she pulled the blanket over her ample breasts. Alhazred ignored her and walked to a small table on the opposite end of the tent where a pile of garments lay. He took them in his hands and tossed them at the girl. "Dress," he said as she recoiled from the attacking fabrics. The girl did so hastily as Alhazred busied himself with stripping off his morning clothes.

"Telling me to put my clothes on just so you can take them all off again a minute?" the whore asked, her tone dripping with vehemence.

Alhazred turned so quickly it caused the girl to flinch, "Dress," he echoed, but this time he hung on the 'ss'. The whore spoke no more as she slipped on her bodice. The girl looked to the monster that had fucked her numb the previous night, expecting to see him naked and with lust brimming from his eyes, instead she saw the glint of black armor fit snugly over his form. An awkward looking sword and arm length dagger accompanied the armor as Alhazred finished equipping himself. Without a word, he snatched the girl's arm and brought her outside the tent. She whimpered as she was exposed to the sunlight, then ceased all sound when Alhazred appeared mere inches from her face. She trembled, Alhazred released her arm. She shrunk away on instinct and glared at the creature.

"Close your eyes," he said.

"What?" she asked back, somewhat confused.

"Close. Your. Eyes," he repeated. The girl hesitated then slowly let her lids fall shut. She braced herself for the strike that she knew was going to come, 'This is for me not enjoying it last night,' she thought. His touch came, but not in the manner she expected. He gingerly took her arm and unfurled her fingers. Something was placed in her hand and the fingers of the beast she loathed left her. She slowly opened her eyes to see a gold piece flicker in the sunlight in her hand.

"A-a crown!" she exclaimed, but then her eyes darkened, "What are you buying?My life? My servitude?" she whispered. Alhazred shook his head, and what appeared to be a sad smile played across his face. "Then what!" she yelled. A few people looked over to see if someone was going to give his wench her proper place, and the girl braced for a smack instinctively.

"Your forgiveness," the Captain let the sentence linger before the girl, for the first time looked into his eyes. Alhazred nodded and turned away, his steps guiding him towards the epicenter of the Black Hawk camp.

{The K'vari Raider Commander of The Black Hawks' Raiders - Alhazred}​

 

[Niriate]

(( I'll be the first one to post an additional character. I will be adding a short skeleton to give some basic background information.

Name: Namira Twinshot
Race: Forest Elf
Specialty: Tracking and Archery
Looks: Roughly similar to this, with raven black hair instead of white. ))



The straw training dummy shook violently as a third arrow thrummed into it's body. All three arrows would individually have been enough to severely wound, if not kill anyone that was not wearing heavy plated armour, let alone three of those arrows.
And yet, of the one that fired them appeared to be no sign.

"I sure as the Hells hope that I did not split one of them" came a soft and somewhat melodious voice from the edges of the forest bordering the encampment, the shape of the archer appearing slowly from the darkness of the undergrowth.

The female Elf had always been a superb archer, like many of her kind had been over the many centuries that the armies of Erydimus had enlisted their help. The Ys'tar had no kingdom or lands that they claimed for their own, therefore they had always managed to avoid most of the conflicts directly. A nomadic race, living amongst the wild and untamed forests of the world, no matter which king or emperor controlled it.

A race that was rumoured to have been granted gifts of the Spirits of the Woods, granting them their nearly feline grace and pin-point accurate Archery skills. A rumour that was never admitted nor denied, adding to the Ys'tar's mystique.

Putting a stray strand of black hair behind her right ear, Namira walked up to the training dummy. The Elf smirked as she observed the damage that she had done. She pulled the arrows out of the dummy one by one, examining each of them for any signs of splits or chips. Satisfied with their condition, she slid the arrows back into the quiver that was hanging over her shoulder.

The girl was small, even for her people, standing at only 5'2''. But to her, it only added to her ability to silently kill.
Brushing any remaining twigs or leaves from the leather shorts that reached to just above her knees, she slung her heavy oaken longbow over her shoulder.

Just another day in mercenary camp...

 

[AlhazredTheMad]

//Bump//​

 

[Jagged]

I'm Interested and I've giving you a bump

posted in the OOC thread

 

[ConstantAdmirer]

The crisp morning breeze was a lovers kiss upon his bare shoulders, a shy caress trailing down the hard muscles of his back. Sgt. Bastian Northwind wandered through the camp toward his commanders tent, careful to stay downwind of any horses. The animals would go into a frenzy if they caught scent of him, Bastian knew he made some of the men uneasy. He wasn't a large man, standing only 5'6, but it was in the way he moved, some said, the simple primal power of his presence.

The sometimes beast somtimes man smiled at a few of the new recruits as they milled about, casting glances at him and whispering to themselves. Bare from the waste up he was sight to be seen. Scars crossed the entirety of his body as if his skin ripped apart on a regular basis, and tattoos arched and curled across his well defined torso in bold lines of dark green. He wore simple, loose fitting brown pants on his lower half, and sturdy boots. Across his back a double bladed battle axe hung in it's place, the weapon was naked and gleaming with a fresh edge in the morning light.

Things had been to quiet for the bear-man's taste these past few days. Almost stagnant, he was a man (or beast if you prefer) of action, and wanted to get on with the fighting. He was of a mind to speak with the captain about exactly that, the lack of combat. The men were getting fat, and lethargic it was time to move out.

"Sir" he growled (as always it seemed, his tone was no indication of mood or disrespect) "the men are getting slower to muster everyday, they need some fighting to draw out a bit of vigor"