Post by Tusk on Sept 18, 2008 9:32:49 GMT -5
(( Feel free to join in without a bio, just make a descriptive entrance. ))
The walled city of Treygon was a symbol of order. Once you entered, you were bound by rules from a King that whimsically made them throughout the day. Oh, he revoked a few after he was sober and realized that all should dance merrily in the middle of the street at 12 noon was really not something to get arrested over. There had even been times where the jails had more people than the city did.
There was nothing really anyone could do. The king was royalty and all must follow his bidding! The life seemed all but dried up deep in the city. People just had no will, for it had been a crime not too long ago. These walls were supposed to bring order, but to much order breeds chaos of a different sort. Yet there were a few people that decided to do the unthinkable. They decided that it was time to say, " To hell with the king! " These people had come from all back rounds. Some where mages, and some were bards. Others were Mercs, while some were just tired of sweating every time a new law came into place. Knights and Palace heavies were ordered to arrest any of these people on sight.
One who was tired of the rules and regulations was a swordsman named Davean. He stood right around 6 foot in height and had himself a medium build. He let his brown hair grow to touch his shoulders and just cover his calm green eyes. If one could look hard enough, they would see pointed ears. He had developed a nice looking Goatee, but a scar that was over his left eye but it did not remain closed. He looked like he was just out of the stages of boy hood and had become a man. He wore what looked to be a modified half plate armor. It had the chest plate and the greeves, both with a darker than most armors, but not black. He viewed it as walking in an oven so a light black did ten times better. He also wore armor on his right arm, with his left arm uncovered. He wore metal covered boots and he had a helmet cradled in his right arm. On his back was a bastard sword with a shield in front of it. There was also a bow the shield was in front of awhile the arrows were on a quiver being held by belt on his side. Though he looked like a walking armory, there was a light step in his walk. He did not look as graceful as an elf, but maybe a half elf.
He made his way to the Drunken Jester Tavern. It's reputation was not the best, but the tavern maids looked good, the music was great, and fights tended to break out. It was his kind of place, and best of all, there were no knights that would recognize him. After all, he was the one knight that literally shouted Screw the King in front of him. Then there was the time he was seeing the princess and got caught by the maids. That was not a pleasant outcome. Now he was an outlaw, but he never left the city. The walls were impossible to get through and even he could not take on 1000 guards and live to tell about it. So he was trapped.
The Drunken Jester had a bard telling stories and Davean was right, the Tavern Maids were looking pretty good. He sat at a far off table ordering a drink and waited for a safe time for him to return to his run down shack he now called a home.
The walled city of Treygon was a symbol of order. Once you entered, you were bound by rules from a King that whimsically made them throughout the day. Oh, he revoked a few after he was sober and realized that all should dance merrily in the middle of the street at 12 noon was really not something to get arrested over. There had even been times where the jails had more people than the city did.
There was nothing really anyone could do. The king was royalty and all must follow his bidding! The life seemed all but dried up deep in the city. People just had no will, for it had been a crime not too long ago. These walls were supposed to bring order, but to much order breeds chaos of a different sort. Yet there were a few people that decided to do the unthinkable. They decided that it was time to say, " To hell with the king! " These people had come from all back rounds. Some where mages, and some were bards. Others were Mercs, while some were just tired of sweating every time a new law came into place. Knights and Palace heavies were ordered to arrest any of these people on sight.
One who was tired of the rules and regulations was a swordsman named Davean. He stood right around 6 foot in height and had himself a medium build. He let his brown hair grow to touch his shoulders and just cover his calm green eyes. If one could look hard enough, they would see pointed ears. He had developed a nice looking Goatee, but a scar that was over his left eye but it did not remain closed. He looked like he was just out of the stages of boy hood and had become a man. He wore what looked to be a modified half plate armor. It had the chest plate and the greeves, both with a darker than most armors, but not black. He viewed it as walking in an oven so a light black did ten times better. He also wore armor on his right arm, with his left arm uncovered. He wore metal covered boots and he had a helmet cradled in his right arm. On his back was a bastard sword with a shield in front of it. There was also a bow the shield was in front of awhile the arrows were on a quiver being held by belt on his side. Though he looked like a walking armory, there was a light step in his walk. He did not look as graceful as an elf, but maybe a half elf.
He made his way to the Drunken Jester Tavern. It's reputation was not the best, but the tavern maids looked good, the music was great, and fights tended to break out. It was his kind of place, and best of all, there were no knights that would recognize him. After all, he was the one knight that literally shouted Screw the King in front of him. Then there was the time he was seeing the princess and got caught by the maids. That was not a pleasant outcome. Now he was an outlaw, but he never left the city. The walls were impossible to get through and even he could not take on 1000 guards and live to tell about it. So he was trapped.
The Drunken Jester had a bard telling stories and Davean was right, the Tavern Maids were looking pretty good. He sat at a far off table ordering a drink and waited for a safe time for him to return to his run down shack he now called a home.
Congrats grimn! You're in the real mode, now. I've no doubt that you'll surprise yourself on just how tough and mature you can be.