/builders/ - Hero and Nation Builders!

>>10016

"Ah , my old cousin Sweet bob, surely it would be helpful to have a man I can trust under my command, and one who is familiar with the men to boot! You are welcome to become my first Sargent, but do not indicate to the men that we are of the same blood, lest they think the ranks are rife with nepotism!"

>>9932

No man of big words you quickly explained to Sir Ulrich what you wanted from him and the moment you had finished talking you could already see the burning desire to fight within his eyes, however you also knew that what you were asking of him was going directly against what you had suggested earlier when you had told him to refuse his orders and refrain from engaging the Uhlmannen in the open field.

After a bit of back and forth Ulrich finally decided to grant you your wish. After all experience was not earned lightly and the first scrape would hopefully not prove as lethal as the battles that were sure to follow. Selecting nine trustworthy men he allowed you to go and exact revenge upon the Uhlmannen, which was of course to remain a secret as otherwise he would inevitably have his leadership qualities questioned by the Count.

Under the cover of the night you made your way out the castle and onto the streets. Having passed a number of strange people you surprisingly realized that the city gate was indeed standing open. This would have been a serious blunter in any defense, however you had no doubt that this was a mere coincidence and rather an orchestrated event. Without as much as a second turn back your party of ten made their way out through the gate with the horses that had unknowingly been supplied by Count Whitecastle.

The moonlight was barely enough to see the road ahead of you and you were afraid you could run into an Uhlmannnen patrol at every corner, then again that had been what you had wanted from the start. One after another you passed burned out villages, however as you reached your fourth or fifth stop one of the veterans stopped you and pointed into the dark blue night sky.

It took you a few moments to realize what it was the soldier had been trying to get at, however as you did it hit you in full force. Within the dark blue facade with countless white stars inbetween you could make out numerous black smears. Smoke trails from a nearby camp no doubt, however the sheer amount of them was unsettling at any rate. Leaving the horses behind you and the rest of the men quickly made their way into the direction and what you saw robbed you of all breath.

The camp was of epic proportions. You had never been big with numbers, however you could tell that this dwarfed just about anything the Weissburg and Weisstadt put together could throw at the Uhlmannen. Even if one accounted for the mercenaries that were still located within the city.. no this was pointless. The sea of tents extended as far as your eyes reached, all of them pitched into the soft light of the numerous campfires. There were guardposts beyond count and men wearing unfamiliar weapons and armor, auxiliaries or mercenaries no doubt.

Looks like you had found the invasion force.

>Skills:

+ Scouting (5)

+ Charisma (5)

>>10351

>>9939

The sun was already setting and as you stared at the red sky you pondered what to do next. Going to sleep was out of the question, your blood was boiling and there would be no way you were to find any rest lying down tonight. Punching someone was a priority here, however then again you didn't know whom to punch. A young stableboy picked up your gaze and quickly sped up his step.

Things hadn't been going your way since you came to this city, however you were going to make sure that it wouldn't stay that way. Now where could you find someone to punch? The seediest part of town sounded promising, however you could just as well get you stabbed, robbed or even worse. Casting all those thoughts aside you decided it would be your best shot at punching someone in the face either way.

It was surprisingly hard to find the shadiest part of this as you found increasingly shady town. Naturally you found dirty places, but you were uncertain what would really make it the seediest part of town. Should it have the most brothels or the most burnt out buildings? Was the number of thieves more important or the number of cutthroats? After a bit of thinking you concluded that thorough investigation probably wasn't the most important part about this.

At last you found what you had been looking for. Or at least that's what you thought. You had rarely seen a tavern as run down as this one. The roof was barely intact, some of the walls looking like someone was regularly trying to torch this place, aside from the various scribblings about somebody offering intercourse and who was who's bitch. Also there was a drawing which you somehow recognized as a blueberry cake.

The moment you entered you were greeted by the warmth and closeness that could only be achieved by stuffing thugs, cutthroats and questionable moral choices into a room for extended periods of time. The bar itself was filled with countless dubious people, most of the tables were occupied by smaller groups of your average criminals with a few characters sticking out. Probably the most notable couple was a very tall and muscular tatooed thug with a golden ring around his arm who was looking a little depressed while his company, a perky redhead with freckles, just couldn't stop talking.

Forcing yourself between two men playing a knife game at the counter you yelled up the bartender, demanding to know what one had to do around here to get to punch someone in the face, prompting him to laugh. However not at you as you soon found out, but your very accurate prediction of whom to ask about such things. The bartender quickly signaled someone and you were lead down the stairs where the air was even stickier. The basement to which you had been led was surprisingly large and well lit, in the center was a large ring, it's muddy ground was limited by a wooden fence beyond which a number of excited viewers yelled and wove at the two men duking it out on the muddy ground in the center.

Naturally you wanted in on the action, however the guy in charge who was standing a bit outside of all the action told you that you would have to wait your turn and more importantly until another acceptable opponent had arrived, after all he didn't want to pit you against someone you stood no chance against. While this did make you want to punch him in the face you soon found that he had made a fair point. In one of the somewhat less lit corners of the extensive basement you could see a giant of a man, larger than any you had ever seen rub his throat which had evidently been cut and recently stitched. If you felt like you wanted to punch someone in the face he probably felt like he wanted to tear out someone's spine.

(1/2)

>>10352

>>9939

(2/2)

Lucky enough for you another woman signed up for the fight as well. The resulting hand to hand action was messy but the outcome was expected. While you had no doubt that she had done this before you were fairly certain that she was nothing more than a whore with a hobby on the side and while she had seen her fair share of fights it was nothing against the general experience you brought to the table.

Quickly you wore her out, punch by punch, kick by kick. You had her on the ropes, stumbling backwards throughout the ring at your every mercy. As you ended your hail of attacks you had her hanging onto the fence. "Give me.. a second..", she pressed out trying to stay on her feet. However then you noticed something peculiar. Her feet were in an odd position, she wasn't going to catch her breath, this was some form of trap. You had little patience for this woman's tricks.

In a merciless last attack that caught the woman completely off guard you threw a combination to her gut and a left hook to her jaw sending her crashing into the mut. The crowd cheered at you in excstatic frenzy. Of course they didn't shout your name, they didn't know it, but the united roar of the audience was an elevating feeling to be sure.

>Inventory:

+ 5 Copper

>Skills:

+ Hand to Hand (10)

>>10353

>>9940

You have the men who are there spread the word and sooner than you initally expected you are presented with your Sargents. As you are responsible for a grand total of 48 men you will find yourself with 4 Sargents in charge of their respectable units of 12 men each.

The first man you are to meet is James. As was to be expected he is an experienced soldier of common background, you are however surprised to notice his distinctively noble demeanor. His wording would have been considered elegant by any courtier, however he was born and raised on a farm in the Western lands of the Kingdom. Although de facto part of the kingdom the people that in the Western parts of the kingdom have a distinctly different culture.

The second man is Yuri. Born and raised in the far east he talks like a soldier and swears like a pig farmer and in contrast to James he was born a minor noble. Coming from the far East he reminds you very much of your own family as far as dialect and tradition goes and he may be one of the few people who are capable of speaking and understanding your mothertongue. He too is an experienced warrior.

Your third Sargent was Frederick. Called Rick by just about everyone he used to be a veteran soldier for the Whitecastle family, however recent events have seen him disapprove of the things conspiring at court strongly enough to seek a change in employment. Now with Turmhill he is probably the most experienced out of the three having seen combat in numerous campaigns.

Last but not least there was Wikiver. A relative of yours he had not yet accepted or denied his nomination to Sargent. While he seemingly hadn't been informed about you seeking to meet with him yet he was nearby practicing with his men. (Talking is a free action)

With your Turmhill business taken care off you wanted to make sure that someone would keep an eye on the refugees. You had been a member of the Whitecity guard for some time and so you quickly recognized a pair of guards, telling them all about the suspicious refugees. Having exchanged a quick look they assured you that you should no longer worry about it and that they would take care of the issue in no time.

With your mind at ease you wanted to look around for Maria next, however amongst the slowly reducing masses of refugees you did not manage to find her again. Perhaps she had moved to one of the less expensive parts of town as many refugees had done in the past days.

>Skills:

+ Leadership (2)

>>10354

>>9941

Ah yes. What these people needed now was the strong hand of god and the soft touch of his voice. Surely it had been a long time since they had heart the ancient psalms and bowed their head in respect in one of god's temples.

You read to them from one of your holy books, a vers about the protection of the week and the empowerment of the just. The agony that would befall traitors and pagans alike. The last passage perhaps more meant for the dishonest amongst the clergy than the people seeking refuge.

What horrors the Uhlmannen had brought into the country. And what did they seek? Silver? Perhaps. But why would they leave so many towns untouched in their wake? It made little sense, or perhaps it made no sense. Then again perhaps the lord had forced them into his grand plan. Perhaps they had been sent to punish the people of Weissstadt for their sinful ways. The clergy was depraved and diseased with corruption.

But no, you couldn't allow yourself to think like that. The words of god had to be spoken with pure heart and clear mind or otherwise they woud fall silent in a world of violence and chaos. You could not allow yourself to be deluded into thinking the barbarian dogs who had burned down your home and slaughtered your people were somehow justified by the all knowing father.

So you continued to speak to the refugees. You were no Bartholomew admittedly. Your rethoric was good but not particularly impressive and your gestures did not awake the fires of righteousness and duty in men's hearts but in silence they listened to you none the less. Perhaps with some practice you too could become a preacher.

Once you had finished Bartholomew ascended the steps to speak to the masses himself, however he did not recite from the passages of the holy book, but addressed the upcoming time of hardship and the unjust seizure of the throne by the Kin Slayer Duke Lyion, blaming him for failing the people of the city in his lust for power and only worsening the crisis at hand. He had no rightful claim to the throne and in that you had to agree with Bartholomew, the church's stance on kin slaying was very clear. No true believer of the faith could accept Duke Lyion as his King.

Then however Bartholomew switched the subject once more to something you found yourself quite unable to understand. He spoke about the threatening shortage of food and that those who had it would harbor it, making it inaccessible to the masses who needed it. He said that you needed to act. You were uncertain however as to what you were supposed to do. It would hardly be proper to loot the bakers. Perhaps he wanted you to request aid from the respective Counts of Weissburg and Weissstadt?

>Skills:

+ Preaching (2)

>>10355

>>10011

Understandably every bank in existence would have it's rightful base questioned by the church as usury was a sin and looked down upon by god with disfavor, the various heathens that found their way into the city however were not restricted by the same morals. The Juhs especially were reknown for their treacherous and money grubbing nature. Their distinct facial features were often compared to those of rats, however if one was totally honest with themselves this was not really the case.

Many people neither knew how to read nor how to write, lucky for you being of noble descent you had been taught at a very young age, a skill that now came in handy. The local Juhs were more than happy to take your money and give you a piece of paper stating your rightful ownership over the money kept by them. They would stand no chance of tricking you when it came to the paperwork as you were capable of reading every bit of it yourself without requiring anybody else to fill in or having to resort to the very common X as a signature.

Although you didn't really know why you had an oddly good feeling about all of this. Perhaps it was the fact that Juhs other than Jippsis were a very clean people that lived in organized households but you felt like they weren't going to fuck you over and run off with your money. Then again if they actually dared to as much as try anything you were certain it wouldn't take much to gather a raging mob to burn their house down. A risk the very calculating nature of Juhs would certainly not allow them to take.

Now underway with your last silver which you hadn't left with the Juhs you were looking for the strongest thing a single silver could buy. To your disappointment all the various types of your homeland's Eastern brews were mostly already watered down, however you managed to find an interesting drink from the islands called Whiskey. For three coppers the whole bottle was yours which left you with 7 coppers and a burning sensation in your mouth.

After sharing a glass with the man who sold it to you you went onwards to do your usual business. Whatever exactly that was.

>Inventory:

+ Almost full bottle of Whiskey

- 20 Silver

+ 7 Copper

+ Document of Banking (19 Silver - The Juhs)

>>10356

>>10016

Since things hadn't exactly worked out for you with the Whitecastles and the Whitecities you decided it would probably best to stay around here and try some more of your luck with the Turmhill soldiers. Of course they would grow suspicious eventually, but in light of Tacticus' sudden appearance you were certain that they'd rather refuse to play with you than beat you up and drop you off in a ditch somewhere.

Lady luck remained on your side for the next few games. The rules could hardly be considered complex and saying that it had anything to do with experience or a nack for a deeper understanding of the game's mechanics would have been a blatant lie. Money changed hands and they began to turn rather unwelcoming, so you did what every good gambler should. You told them a story.

Of course a lot the details had been polished in the many times you had told it already, smaller bumps had been flattened out, with some facts lost in translation, others miraculously finding their way into the story. You had quite an unbelievable one for the Turmhill officers in store today. As to how you had managed to retreive the family regalia from a barbarian tribe after some back and forth. It was a wondersome story altogether, not to mention that some parts of it were quite simply lies, however years of gambling had you as quite an experienced storyteller.

In the end you made some wins with some losses inbetween. Things were turning considerably worse towards the end and since a good gambler didn't only needed to know when to bluff but when to fold as well you excused yourself from the table. Surely ths would get you through a few more days, though you should probably work on finding a place to stay, after all you didn't want to spend the night outside in the street.

>Inventory:

+ 1 Silver

>Skills:

+ Gambling (2)

+ Storytelling (5)

>>10357

>>10021

One of the guardsmen accompanied you as you entered Sir Alistair's office once more. Daylight was shining in through the elegantly barred windows and fell onto the countless papers that lay spread out across Alistair's desk. After a few more moments of thoroughly investigating the various papers that lay before him Lord Alistair relieved the guardsman with a short hand movement. Pointing towards the chair in front of his desk he offered you a seat which you took as had been expected of you.

Quickly you reported about your information regarding Uhlmannen spies, while Alistair had seemd unengaged at first he noticably listened up when you mentioned Blueberry Tom. "Tom?", he asked looking your right in the eyes, "He's a.. local.". Alistair folded up some of the papers lying around on his desk, "You are certain that he is a spy?". Blinking a few times you inquired as to why Sir Alistair was so skeptical regarding the possibility that a local cutthroat could be spying for the Uhlmannen to which Alistair responded with a piece of paper.

The drawing had been made surprisingly well, even though you hadn't seen him in many years you could easily identify Aiska, his bright hair always had been a dead giveaway. It was a bounty letter, only alive however, the sum was rather respectable. That said Alistair had others already keeping eyes on a number of questionable individuals.

There wasn't much more to talk about and so you left the office and headed towards the blacksmith. Lilith wasn't home, however her father was. You didn't officially know one another though you had seen him every now and then dodging him once or twice when you paid Lilith a visit. Now that you actually wanted to talk to him you couldn't feel but a little nervous.

Lilith's father was a little smaller than you, then again you were larger than most men. He was muscular and as you noticed only just now exteremly clean shaven, you couldn't make out a single hair on his face, though you tried hard not too stare too much. "Whatever I don't cut off the flames burn out.", he said in a full voice, cleaning his hands with a rag. Apparently you hadn't been looking at him as discretely as you had hoped.

You showed him your dagger and explained that you wanted a second piece to it, not necessarily ornate, but alike in it's basis and of a high quality which prompted the smith to take the dagger from you and investigate it for quite some time. At one point he went as far as to hit it with a hammer a couple of times. You were already going to protest however he stopped shortly afterwards handing the dagger back to you.

"From the looks of it and telling by your accent this thing has been made in the East. I'm not familiar with what technique the blacksmith who made this was using, however I may be able to replicate it given the time. The other thing is that it's made from a different..", for a moment Lilith's father struggled to find the right word, "strain of iron than what we use here. It will affect hardness and elasticity. That said I really don't have the time to go about making fancy daggers, I got about a hundred more shield rims to finish.".

Of course it was not strictly speaking impossible for him to do it, however this was a very clear hint that if you wanted to see this done before the countless other assignments the smith had flowing in due to the Uhlmannen invasion you would have to make it worth his while.

>Skills:

+ Noble Customs (2)

>>10358

>>10022

Now everything you had to do was make sure that Eric wasn't kidnapped again. Then again you hadn't excactly put yourself out of harm's way, you were certain however that none of the guys back at the bar knew your name or were going to remember your face. Talking about remembering faces, you hadn't seen Eric in a long time. What luck that you had actually managed to find him in time. Aaaaand he was gone. From the looks of it you had lost him somewhere between the market and the holy mile.

At least now you didn't get the nervous feeling that one of your family members was about to perish which probably meant that he was going to be alright. Besides you had more important stuff to do than to babysit one of your many relatives, the men were still waiting to be taught in various new techniques with your shields.

As you arrived you were taken aside by the other men of your group. You hadn't really spent too much of a thought about the chain of command however the others did a good job of breaking it down simply of you. Apparently you were a member of a group of 12 soldiers, a number which you had already figured out by yourself. Yours and three other groups were commanded by a single Lieutenant whom you hadn't met just yet. While Lieutenants were appointed by Turmhill himself every unit was allowed to vote their own Sargent and in light of the things you had done for them they would appreciate if you accepted your nomination as theirs.

Whether you chose to accept or not was up to you, however if you did you were to meet with the Lieutenant who just turned out to be another relative of yours. Tacticus Nation, not a great warrior in particular you knew him as an able leader, though his luck on the battlefield had turned on him more and more as the war had drawn to a close. Then again that had been happening for everyone back in your homeland.

With your subconscience occupied thinking about the various responsibilities and opportunities that came with beocming the group's Sargent you went back to practicing shield and sword techniques with the rest of the group. Naturally the shieldwall was one of the easiest formations to learn while you got the feeling that a count of 12 men was perhaps simply not enough to form an efficient turtle formation.

>Skills:

+ Shield Tactics (5)

>>10359

>>10026

Finding out who was in charge of the City's defense proved harder than you at first anticipated. From the information you gathered it soon became clear that the defense of the castle and the city were entirely different matters. Both possessed their own walls and soldiers, ruled by their own respective Count or Baron depending on whom you asked. Then there was also the Second Line which had gathered a respectable amount of manpower ina relatively short amount of time and the Turmhills who were employed by a merchant of the same name.

In the end you decided that the ruler of the City would probably be your best bet. While he had taken some efforts in order to ensure the security of the city he was not the only one to do so. Officially tasked with everything relating to guard matters was Count Whitecity's oldest son and heir to the city Solomon. Not soon after the name had been mentioned however you were informed that Solomon was nowhere near being capable to efficiently handle the city's guard affairs.

Though Solomon was still officially in charge of the guard as was tradition amongst the Whitecitys, the person really pulling the string was a man named Samen Garius. While everyone knew this was the case everyone was smart enough to pretend that they didn't know around the Count. Samen Garius himself was in turn considered an able commander and his world held great sway over the city's men at arms.

You were uncertain how you would gain access to Samen Garius as he was no figure of public interest or official rank. Should you choose to seek an audience with Count Whitecity however you would have a far easier time reaching your goal as he took direct charge of the city's matters allowing people to pose questions and requests. A third alternative would be gaining access to Samen Garius through Solomon, though you had the feeling that his could potentially be a dangerous course of action.

>Skills:

+ Searching (3)

>>10360

>>10070

>>10071

"Everyone calls me Garlic.", he said in a rough voice, stoicly refusing to accept your help as he hurried alongside you in unsettling unrythmic movements, "I am our village's guardsman.", he paused for a short moment pressing his lips together, coughing slightly, "But now I have brought my flock to the gates of the holy city and yet my duty has only begun!". Certainly the delivery wasn't perfect and it had some errors in it, however you recognized passage from the holy book.

Talking to Garlic was just about as disturbing as looking at him. His voice was as nice to listen to as rubbing sandpaper with your fingernails and you weren't certain whether a hot bath would be able to extinct the stench of blood and garlic that he emitted. However for all the things one could say about his exteriors you could not find a flaw with the man himself. He was a duty and faithful guard who had done his best to defend his village against the overpowering hordes of the Uhlmannen.

After having ensured Garlic that his sacrifices would be welcomed by God you entered the church which was filled to the brim. Certainly many would have to sleep in the streets tongiht and you already anticipated that food reserves would be unable to supply the countless refugees in a siege or even for the coming months in general. Most of the more medically experienced priests were already occupied but your influence with the church made it an easy task to reassign one of them, which the others waiting in line begrudgingly accepted.

Something was different, which was when you noticed that Natasha was preaching to the masses that had been assembled in the church. You noted that her rethoric was a bit off and perhaps she should have practiced the text passage a few more times before having gone through with the entire thing, however you saw potential. While it were not her words even you as a man of faith had to admit that Natasha had a.. radiant personality. Her speech ended on a note about the agony that would befall pagans and traitors, certainly a good notion in light of the Uhlmannen invasion and the people within the city that failed to see that everyone within the walls needed to be able to depend on one another in order to succeed in this moment of crisies.

Once Natasha had finished you ascended the stairs yourself and spoke to the masses. About the false King and Kin Slayer Duke Lyion and how he betrayed the people of this great city. Surely most of these people had not thought about it too much as of now as they were plagued by other more daily issues, however in their eyes you could see that they agreed with you. Then you spoke about the issues of food and instability, however you were uncertain what it was but you had seemed to confused people more than enraged or engaged them. Questioning looks were exchanged. While you had anticipated for them to have their own suggestions when it came to the aspect of acting they seemed like they had just been waiting for you to spell it out.

An unfortunate note to end a speech on. Unless that had been your goal of course.

>Skills:

+ Zeal (3)

>>10361

>>10143

You informed Lord von Pissen of your family Tome and with a much saying wink he left you to your research. Surely he was interested in what you could find, though you would have been surprised to find references to Orton in particular. Luckily you didn't have to search for the tome, it was all that you had aside from the clothing gifted to you and as such you kept tabs on it at all times.

Though certainly many would have wanted it, as books were still a rare commodity, most people were unable to read and even fewer could decipher the complex letters of your mothertongue. The Black Tome of Nation itself had been written over an exteneded period of time, various family members having shared their experiences over centuries, keeping it safe from the church and other organizations dedicated to eliminating the demonic presences from this world.

Swiftly and surely you skipped through it's many pages. It was easy to tell when one owner of the book had died and another had taken his place, often writing style and even the paper that was used changed. Of course if you hadn't noticed the more subtle changes the signatures under the respectable chapters would have revealed it either way. One of the things you had begun to notice after a while was that all the previous owners of the book had been men and even though witches had been hunted in the past you found it curious to say the least that mostly the male members of the Nation family had been dabbling in the occult.

After a bit more skipping back and forth you finally found the chapter you had been looking for. Written by Bello the Black of House Nation it described the various means of casting a shadow of hell onto earth. To someone who had no idea of the occult this may have seemed like an odd description, however you had studied the Tome for some time and were well aware that Bello described the Demons humans perceived merely as the Shadows of their far greater presences in hell.

"Is that supposed to throw me into some form of existential turmoil?", you cast aside the voice's blatant attempts to distract you and continued to read.

Many of the tools Bello described to call forth a shadow were easily recognizable, most of them had found their use in Lord von Pissen's summoning, however something about the circles and the triangles within them seemed wrong. You couldn't put a finger on it simply from memory and so you returned to the scene of the summoning once more, this time armed with your family Tome. As you compared the chalk drawings on the wooden floor to the ones described in the book your mouth began to feel dry. The candles on the walls seemd to flicker and dim down, a soft wind dragging on you.

(1/2)

>>10362

>>10143

(2/2)

Cold shivers ran up and down your spine. With disbelief you stared at the Tome in your hands. Had you really just solved a question that very existence had eluded the Apocyan Sigil and it's members for centuries? Carefully you went over the various notions again. The fault was quite simple. There shouldn't have been two circles, only one. The summoning had not failed in that sense, it had only become.. weird. Von Pissen had blindly been following instructions, failing to truly understand what he had been doing.

The Tome had opened your eyes and shown you a glimpse of something only few people could ever hope to see in your life. The Truth. Orton was no demon. He was merely a Shadow and as Bello the Black had described would have never been able to exist in your world without a physical form. The ritual had never been meant to bring forth a demon forth from the depths of hell. This had never been a summoning to begin with. It was a binding.

"Aren't you a smart one. I suppose I couldn't keep you from reading the next passage even if I tried.".

The next passage revealed something the old high priest who had first bound Orton would have loved to know as well. A warning first and foremost. "Every demonic presence, no matter how shallow it may be in comparison to it's true origin, is stronger than the strongest, wiser than the wisest and has a heart blacker than that of the most evil man."

Of all the power and wisdom that a Shadow brought into this world only a fraction would fall into the wizard's lap. A little courtesy by the shadow itself, often barely enough to encourage experimentation and curiosity. Many misunderstood this gift for kindness and not for the trap it really was. A Shadow would never truly share it's power with a man.

But this by no means meant that the power one could achieve was limited to said fraction. More could be gained by making a deal with the entity in question. At this point however Bello strongly advised against any such behavior. "A single false step, a bargain lightly struck and in the blink of an eye one can find themselves an empty hollowed out puppet. A horrific tool in the hands of a force more ancient and evil than any other."

"A curious book indeed.".

>Skills:

+ Occult Knowledge (60)

>>10163

(Interacting with other family members is a free action)

Acceptable housings were not all that hard to come by. A merchant certainly looking to flee the oncoming Uhlmannen horde, or perhaps just trying to sell his house in order to buy a larger one now while the rather cheap property prices lasted, offered you his house at a price of twenty silvers. It had a two rooms. Considering for it's location in one of the nicer parts of town it was an acceptable price if not an extraordinary one.

The door was made of heavy wood though from what you could tell this was rather common for houses in this city. The windows were all located highly enough to prevent anyone from climbing in, that said they would probably only enable a child to climb through as well. Not that you didn't believe that there were plenty of thieving children in the city.

The merchant would be happy to make the deal right away if you were willing to do it now, after all why wait if all interested parties are already agreeing?

If you want to buy the House:

>Inventory:

- 20 Silver

>Holdings:

+ House in Nice Part of Town (2 rooms) - Owned

Rolled 37, 63 = 100 (2d100)

>>10353

>Name:Vivian Nation

>Fluff: Vivian was alone crying in the rubble. The mercenaries hired to destroy the castle decided that grabbing a baby girl to "use" once she grows up seemed like a sound idea. That was until they realized that they had spent so much time and effort taking care of this girl, that they couldn't rape her. By the time she was 18 she was already fighting like the best of them. When one of the men finally got pissed at her one day and told her how they all raped and killed most of her family, torched her home, and even stole her fathers sword, she took it quiet well. She ripped out the throat of the one who told her, took the sword off of his corpse, and told the others she was going to need some "alone time", but considering her personality that was very rational.

>Inventory:+ Father's Sword

>+ Plain Clothes (Female) [Wearing]

>+ Plain Clothes (Male)

>Money: 42 Copper

>Skills:

>+ Swordfighting (50)

>+ Survival (50)

>Flaws:+ [Hard Goodbye] You are not exactly on good terms with your old mercenary band and word travels fast. This may be trouble in the long run.

>Bonus:

>+ [Tough Girl] You're a tough girl, you've spent your life on the road and don't mind eating moldy food from time to time. Though you do still have some bonding issues this will assist you further in combat and survival.

>Skills:+ Drinking (4)

>+ Intimidate (4)

>+ Hand to Hand (17)

>+ Girl Talk (5)

>+ Being a douche (5)

>Drinking (10)

>+ Eavesdropping (1)

>+ Butterfacing (10)

>Job:

>+ Warehouse Guardian (+ 6 Copper / Turn)

1-2: Vivian releases a howl as she stands in the center of the ring before turning away back to the organizer. "Fuck I haven't felt so alive since ave gotten to this god forsaken city. When can I fight next?"

Rolled 37, 60 = 97 (2d100)

>>10359

Name: Wikiver Nation

Fluff: A young man with an even temper. Although he is honorable his is also quite greedy and lustful. He was learning to become a true lord when his family lands were invaded. His father pushed the family sword, which is made from a strange golden metal and forged in a strange shape, into hands and sent him away. Now he is here.

Inventory: The Dragon Fang,

+ 33 copper

+ 13 silver

+ Poorly Made Clothes

+ Turmhill Leather Armor

+ Turmhill Family Shield

Skills: Swordfighting (64)

+ Dragon Fang Combat (56)

+ Intimidation (16)

+ Luck (1)

+ Hand to Hand (32)

+ Lover (5)

+ Running (57)

+ Gutter Talk (33)

+ Charisma (7)

+ Anti-Uhlmannen Tactics (14)

+ Shield Tactics (5)

>Job:

+ Turmhill Bodyguard (+ 1 Silver / turn)

Flaws: + [Greedy] You have a hard time letting go of gold, people you have to pay do not appreciate this.

+ [Lustful +] You like a good tumble, this comes with some expertise in the area. Women find it hard to resist you however the feeling is mutual. Be careful not to hurt the ones you love.

Bonuses: [Wielder of the Dragon Fang] Your weapon is your father's blade. It is not magic, only a fool would believe that, but if handled right the blade dances almost as if alive, sneaking past scales of armor and cutting deep into enemy flesh. You've also never cut yourself on this one before.

+ [My Nation Sense Is Tingling] You have a sixth sense for your family members. Whenever they are in trouble you will get that feeling that something is not quite right and a general sense of the direction.

+ [Good Samarithan] You're a good guy and the ladies dig it.

>Update- Long

1&2. "Of course, how could I turn down suh an offer. Now then what we are most likely going to face is a massed cavalry charge. Thankfully the Ulheman dont use lances from what I have seen, just sabers. What you need to do is …" training!

Rolled 87, 87 = 174 (2d100)

>>10363

Name: Ophelia Nation

Fluff:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4JxChxvHrU

Ophelia is the model Lady, prim, proper, well mannered, and aloof. And like every Proper Lady she has a dark secret. Ophelia has been taken by the Occult, it fascinates her, the ideas of demons and aberrations existing sends shivers of excitement down her spine. It was not long before she was swept up by a Demonic Cult. Though Secretive and hard to Find they welcomed her into their ranks and her rise within them was rapid, some would say blessed by the very demons they worship. Though her position at the moment is tenuous due to the loss of home and fortune Ophelia is certain that she will keep her position and possibly find temporary housing within a cult member's estate.

Inventory:

+ The Black Tome of Nation

+Well Made Dress

>Home:

+ Von Pissen Residence

Skills:

+ Noble Customs (77)

+ Occult Knowledge (89)

Flaws:

- [Fascinated] Life as a proper lady is incredibly dull and sometimes you are perhaps a bit too excited about the various things you do that concern your cult. You feel the urge to share at least some of the things you know, may it be in sharing it over a cup of tea with a friend or giving ominous warnings to people. Beware you don't talk to much or someone might have to die.

+ [Orton] You hear voices in your head, they council you, they understand. They talk to you.

Bonuses:

+ [The Apocyan Sigil] You are a member of the Apocyan Sigil, a secret society devoted to uncovering the secrets surrounding demons and other evil spirits. While it mostly consists of nobles who want to be elitist in some form and enjoy the secrecy that goes along with the cult's practices the members of the upper circles remain unknown to you. You know various secret signs to identify cult members as well as the basic rituals associated with it.

>Updates:

+Long

1.2. Study the tome more, find out as much about these bindings and shadows as I can.

Rolled 59, 2 = 61 (2d100)

>>10364

>Name: Eric Nation

>Fluff: Eric is a tall and lanky young man, standing a full head's length above your average person. Not that you'd notice it. Ever since his birth He's just sort of blended into the background. People see him, they just don't recognize he's actually there. Many times in his life he's walked up to people in full view and nearly given the heart attacks by speaking to them. It's not something he does with intent, it's just that he's so unassuming and unimportant in most people's minds they don't recognize him being there. The fact he was also 7th born son to his father, along with his own nature of being beneath notice meant his schooling in matters politic and in arms was lacking. However when the invasion came he was handy enough with his Grandfather's dagger to surprise and kill several soldiers before ditching his clothes for peasants rags and blending into the horde of refuges fleeing the land.

>>Inventory

>+ Grandfather's Ornate Dagger (Sharpened)

>+ Plain Clothes (in closet)

>+ Servants Clothing (wearing)

>+ 142 Copper

>+ Lilith's Iron Flower

>>Skills:

>+ Daggering (38)

>+ Noble Customs (62)

>+ Sneaking (40)

>+ Stealing (6)

>+ Running (55)

>+ Haggling (4)

>+ Climbing (3)

>>Flaws:

>+ [Forgettable] You were made to be forgotten. While guards will often forget your face and you can get lost in large crowds easily this is horrible for heroic speeches, begging or finding true love.

+ Enemy [Blueberry Tom]

>>Bonuses:

>+ [Unassuming] You are rarely accused of doing anything, largely because people don't care or expect you to have done anything. Also bonus to sneaking

>>Job

+ Servant(Spy) - Whitecastles (15 Copper / Turn)

>patron Sir Alistair

>>Holdings:

+ House near Market (4 rooms) - Owned

>Updates:

+ Long

1. Fair enough offer a substantial amount of money to get the dagger. It doesn't have to look the same or even be quite as good, as long as the balance and length are close. Bottom line as long as it works, I'll take it and pay for it.

+4 Haggling for a good price

+38 daggering so I can know what'd work and what won't.

2.Since Lilith is out and her father is busy, guess it's back to work. Keep an eye and ear out for anything my patron can use.

+62 Noble customs for finding things and knowing their worth

+40 sneaking for being undetected

+Unassuming for bonus stealth and not being remembered.

Rolled 11, 29 = 40 (2d100)

>>10355

>Name: Natasha Lyubov Nation (the clue is all players are members of the same family)

>Fluff: Found as a orphan in Lyubov House for Orphans, she was a churchgoing little girl who's aspiring to help others. But as Natasha saw other boys being squires to noble knights and warriors and other girls being nuns, bar maidens, & whores. So Natasha studied every passage from the holy books and almost every prayer in the holy books. As Natasha studied she found a knight's blade that had fallen from a knight during a joust and poorly imitating what the knights have done. She later kept the blade that was fallen from the joust and inscribed a symbol that was on the blade on paper… a Fleur de lis a symbol which she uses to inspire a fiery death for preserved heretics.

>Inventory: Fleur de Lis, 2 Holy Books,& 12 copper

>Skills: Faith Knowledge (109), Scrubbing (3), Children (6), Unwanted Attention (20),Whore Relations (10), Makeup (6), Zeal (26), & Preaching (2)

>Flaws: [Faith Centered] You have never really lived and have almost no experience whatsoever interacting with people and doing things that are church unrelated.

>Bonuses: [Zealous] You are the incarnation of faithfulness having dedicated your life to the one true god. You gain a bonus concerning anything religious. Claiming you committed a sin was like claiming the Patriarch himself had done so. Preposterous

>Job:Attract People - Church ( + 2 Copper / Turn)

>Updates:Fluffy like pinky's booty

1-2. Try to help these people by pleading with the bakers to give them bread and invoke damnation if they refuse using the coin as a excuse

Rolled 16, 27 = 43 (2d100)

>>10356

Name: Aethelric Nation

Fluff: After the Uhlmannen burned Nation castle and destroyed the livelihood of the noble family, Aethelric (Once a veritable social butterfly) became more withdrawn, sometimes disappearing from the group for long periods of time before returning, sometimes with new trinkets, and sometimes with whiskey on his breath. He has a weakness for alcohol, which causes problems at times. It’s generally a good idea to keep him away from bars. However, when consulted, he always seems to know the best vintages and batches from wineries and breweries across the land. So that’s a plus. Unfortunately, they’re almost all insanely expensive. So that’s a minus. He used to be proud of the noble blood that ran in his veins, but now it means little more to him than the clothes on his back, serving as a painful reminder of easier, happier times.

>Inventory:

+ 2x Finecraft Family Dagger

+ 5 Loaves of Bread

+ 7 Copper

+ 1 Almost full bottle of Whiskey

+ Document of Banking (19 Silver - The Juhs)

>Skills:

+ Daggering (25)

+ Disguise (50)

+ Drinking (25)

+ Sneaking (28)

+Stealing (2)

+ Alcohol Knowledge (25)

>Flaws:

+ [Alcoholic] You can hardly go without alcohol for more than a few hours before you start to get nervous. Longer periods of time without alcohol can grow into serious sickness, as well as concentration issues, vomiting, shivers etc.

>Bonuses:

+ [Second Liver] You have been drinking so much your tolerance has grown to incredible levels. While certainly this would not be healthy for any other human being you can easily outdrink most and will suffer much less from alcohol and some other sorts of poisoning.

+ [Poor Sod] People just naturally tend to feel sorry for you. This can come with some advantages if you don't mind being pitied a lot.

1. Now standing on a street corner with his whiskey and his paper, Aethelric thinks long and hard on his next action. As people pass him by, he spots a couple men unloading a cart. Inside it, there are a bunch of chests. This gives him an idea. Perhaps he could find someone willing to sell him a scroll case so that he can keep his paper safe. It's his lifeline, and if it were lost or damaged, he would lose the gift of the fair angel.

2. All is in place. Aethelric can enter the castle, seek out his mark, and attempt to persuade Aiska to follow him. Of course, he has his fallback plans of telling the target that he was challenged, or someone was simply talking shit about him. Should anything go awry, the drunkard would be prepared to flee and hide.

Rolled 24, 84 = 108 (2d100)

>>10360

Fluff: One of the younger sons of the Nation family, Talvi was always smaller and weaker than his older brothers, and the other boys of the castle, and so tended to stay close to his nurse, mother, and sisters. Having enough sons already, his father was not over-concerned over Talvi's girlish habits, assuming he would either have to prove himself a man one day, or join the clergy. However, by his twelfth birthday, Talvi had begun dressing as a girl, participating in needlework and singing with the girls, and, on the balance, living as a girl. This was surprisingly well-received by the rest of the family, and the population of the castle in general, likely owing to his kind and friendly temperament, and good looks. In fact, it was rumored that he had illicit liaisons with several boys and girls of the castle. When the Uhlmannen attacked, he was included with the castle women for the tending of wounded and transport of arrows. After the castle fell, he found that travelers were more likely to take a young maiden along with them. And so he starts with a double-disadvantage: for he has not the strength or rough hands of a lad, nor the childbearing capacity of a girl. For a normal man, this would be an insurmountable challenge. For a son of House Nation? It is simply the opening of their greatest saga yet.

Inventory:

>+ Family Key

>+25 copper

>+one plain dress

>+Hooded cloak

>+one rough robe

Skills:

>+ Weaving (59)

>+ Noble Customs (50)

>+ Searching (9)

>+Vigilance (6)

>+Homosexual(10)

Flaws:

>+ [Trap] You're a trap and you know it. If found out by the church they will surely see to it that you are burned by the stake for such a grievous sin while some decadent noble may even take a liking to it.

>+ [Scarred Back] The many lashes have taken their toll, however after good medical care they pose no threat to your health and on the contrary, make you somewhat more resistant. You will probably bear them for the rest of your life.

>+ [Face Scar] One of the whips missed and you have a scar ranging from the back of your skull to the right corner of your right eye.

Bonuses:

>+ [Well Prepared Trap] You've been a trap most of your life and are able to keep up appearances even with only rags to cover few areas of your body though in turn you do lack a lot of the strength the other members of your gender tend to have.

Job:

>+underwear maker with the weaver's guild (6 copper/turn)

Holdings:

>+ Tavern Room + Meal (- 2 Copper / Turn)

>Updates: long

https://youtu.be/kbrhuUFjCII

<inner monologue>

"I wasn't down and out, nor at a dead end, not yet, but time was running short, and the city's bureaucracy seemed labyrinthine and endless. If I kept at this line of attack, the Uhlmannen would drag me off in chains before I knew the first thing about this place. It was time to go and get a good night's sleep, and work on a new plan in the morning.

Then, just as I had made up my mind, I heard the town crier yelling about Lady Faye, and a basterd, and…a handsome payment? This, I thought, was just the sort of break I needed. If I could catch the attention of the city's nobs, I might be able to leverage that to my own ends…

Where to begin though? Two avenues of approach became immediately apparent. Based on gossip I'd heard, I knew some of my kin were in good with the Whitecity family. Now, based on my last run-in with a cousin of mine, anyone who thought blood was thicker than water would have to be pretty thick himself. However, this was a chance I'd have to take. If I could just bluff and bluster my way past the front doors (noble customs 50) I could have one of the maids get a message to Eric or Zeona, and see if they had any skinny on the wise guy.

1. chat with relatives in the employ of the Whitecitys (whitecities?) about the issue, and see what they know

The other prong is through the scummy underbelly of the city. Men talk about their sexual conquests, and word gets around. Even a man who can keep a secret, though, can be plied with booze, and a few coppers of suds can make you bank in interest.

2. that night, hang around some bars and see what scuttlebutt turns up (searching 9)

It's a plan, alright. Might not be the best plan ever, but it's a starting point, and that's what counts.

</inner monologue>

Rolled 12, 44 = 56 (2d100)

>>10363

Name: Sigurd Nation

Fluff: Sigurd is the oldest surviving member of the once-grand Nation family, father to many of it's strongest children and at one point a greatly-respected man for his rational judgement and skill at arms - and he had it all taken away in an instant. Few of his children still breathe, his house lies in financial and popular ruin and one of his eyes was burned to uselessness, making even combat difficult for the aging man. His brothers and sisters all lie missing or dead as well, and taking care of their children and re-assembling the great house of Nation from it's ashes has fallen onto his shoulders. Perhaps the most shameful thing to him was the loss of his grand blade and armor, things he desperately seeks back.

>Inventory:

+ Ancestor's Pendant

+ Fancy Clothes

+ Fancy Hat

+ 7 Silver

+ Noble Iron Sword

>Skills:

+ Swordfighting (67)

+ Leadership (27)

+ Searching (2)

+ Luck (1)

+ Sneaking (3)

+ Charisma (3)

+ Searching (10)

+ Faith (4)

+ Running (4)

>Holdings:

+ House in Nice Part of Town (2 rooms) - Owned

>Job:

+ Charles Whitecity - Swordtrainer (3 Silver / Turn)

>Flaws:

+ [Aging] You become older every year and slowly your skill at arms begins to degrade. The guilt and ridicule do nothing to improve the situation. It's only rubbing more salt into old wounds.

Post preference: As long as makes sense for fluff given.

1/2: Fine, fine, I'll do it. A good enough home - for now at least. There are more pressing matters than perusing the greatest housing possible. Still, while this home is not big enough for storing all the assembled members of Nation, it will serve as a better meeting and resting point for now, and as the base pillar of our family. Look for all the members of Nation throughout the streets, and inform them of our new meeting place, away from the church and owned by a member of Nation properly and good, and also to inform them of the threat of the coming hordes. We must be ready, more so than we were the first time. We MUST be ready.

>>10365

>>10366

>>10371

>>10372

>>10391

>>10396

>>10413

>>10422

>>10427

Rolled 23, 48 = 71 (2d100)

1/2 - Having foregone his employment as a bouncer and pledged his service to Whitecastle, Edmund seeks himself a paid status within their force, especially a role that will allow him to fight valiantly for the country!

As though from a long, restful slumber, Edmund arises. The months had been long, and his injury had humbled him, tempered his fury. He worked as a simple bouncer during that time, and showed a remarkable ability to ignore the events happening around him, lost as he was in his recuperation and his own thoughts. All that would change, however, when he received a letter…

>>10679

Sigurd hears heavy feet running up the road to his new home. Then he hears a voice he may have hoped to never hear again.

"Uncle! UNCLE!! I'm here!"

Edmund Nation runs up the steps as though the devil himself were behind him, stopping before the patriarch. He pants briefly, holding his knees. Did he run across the entire city to get here?

"I came as fast… as I could…" he pants "When I heard the news. I am ready to fight now, Uncle, for our family and our nation!" The young man beams widely at their erstwhile reunion. He's actually wearing proper armor for once, and a sword hangs at his hip. His leg also seems to have healed in his time away. "Edmund Nation, soldier of Whitecastle and scion of the Nation family, has answered your caw- your call!"

>>10364

Name: Edmund Nation

Fluff: Sir Edmund has hidden a terrible secret from his family. For years he has used the best makeup and disguises money could buy to hide his true nature. He wore concealing cloaks, practiced squawking in four different languages, and hid his 'skin condition' from view. You see, Edmund Nation is a bird. There is no bird more honorable and noble in all the world, however, and he defends his family name to the last, even if it means his secret is discovered.

You are a bird posing as a man. Well actually you are a man thinking he is a bird posing as a man. Even centuries from now they would not fully be able to understand your condition. Perhaps god had played a cruel joke on you, but ever since you can remember you've kept this secret from everyone else. Your greatest power, but possibly your achilles heel as well.

>Inventory:

+ Sigil of Flame

+ Crow (Craven)

+ Bird House (Crow-sized)

+ 25 copper

+ Iron Sword

+ Leather Armor

>Skills:

+ Haggling (4)

+ Housewifery (4)

+ Ungrateful (5)

+ Running (4)

+ Hand to Hand (8)

+ Intimidation (1)

+ Luck (2)

+ Swordfighting (60)

+ Dueling (50)

>Skills:

+ Luck (8)

+ Mechanical Understanding (?) (16)

>Flaws:

+ [The Bird Issue] If somebody discovers your secret you are compelled to obey their commands in order for them not to reveal your terrible secret. This would not prevent you from killing them. Of course only if they specifically found out that you are a bird pretending to be human, not a human thinking he is a bird pretending to be human. The latter would be a ridiculous lie.

+ [Bird Talk] Sometimes you can't resist and just chirp along with the birds.

>Bonuses:

+ [The Phoenix Sigil] You are uncertain what it does, has to be some sort of riddle. Better be careful and don't destroy your family heirloom. Though if you could open it somehow, who knew what would be inside?

>Job:

+ Bouncer (Place to Stay + Food)

+5 copper coins per turn

Rolled 95, 31, 68 = 194 (3d100)

>>10357

Name: Sweet Bob

Fluff: Sweet Bob was the black sheep of his family, gambling away the fortunes of his father's with risky investments and the occasional indulgence. It worked and thatss what galled the rest of his family so much atleast until the They came and the dice rolled low for Sweet Bob. So he ran here with only some rags and his lucky dice, ready to start over again. A nice heavy set with a smooth feel that just makes you want to caress them.

Inventory: Lucky Dice, 6 Copper, 3 Silver, Fine Clothes

Skills:

Gambling (61)

Luck (53)

Storytelling (5)

Acquiring Information (1)

Noble Customs (4)

Flaws:

[Gambling Addict] You find it hard to turn down a gamble of any sort.

Bonuses:

["Lucky Dice"] You gain a significant bonus to any rolls done with your lucky dice.

"Smashing Tacitus, simply smashing." A perfect salute from the old days "or rather yes sir, Lieutenant"

Taking my promotion to Sargent by a lucky run in with Tacitus my odds were looking good. Now there was a matter of learning a bit of leadership, after my own fashion of course.

12 Leadership, I would have to rely on my luck and gamblers instinct to pull off a few moves. I can tell what a man has and what he feels with a single glance at the table. Becoming familiar with my men is key, so I invite them to the table and keep us even till I win in the end and reimburse them to earn their trust.

3 Gamble, gotta earn what I can when among the other sargents and big purses.

Rolled 1, 92, 46 = 139 (3d100)

>>10357

Name: Sweet Bob

Fluff: Sweet Bob was the black sheep of his family, gambling away the fortunes of his father's with risky investments and the occasional indulgence. It worked and thatss what galled the rest of his family so much atleast until the They came and the dice rolled low for Sweet Bob. So he ran here with only some rags and his lucky dice, ready to start over again. A nice heavy set with a smooth feel that just makes you want to caress them.

Inventory: Lucky Dice, 6 Copper, 3 Silver, Fine Clothes

Skills:

Gambling (61)

Luck (53)

Storytelling (5)

Acquiring Information (1)

Noble Customs (4)

Flaws:

[Gambling Addict] You find it hard to turn down a gamble of any sort.

Bonuses:

["Lucky Dice"] You gain a significant bonus to any rolls done with your lucky dice.

"Smashing Tacitus, simply smashing." A perfect salute from the old days "or rather yes sir, Lieutenant"

Taking my promotion to Sargent by a lucky run in with Tacitus my odds were looking good. Now there was a matter of learning a bit of leadership, after my own fashion of course.

12 Leadership, I would have to rely on my luck and gamblers instinct to pull off a few moves. I can tell what a man has and what he feels with a single glance at the table. Becoming familiar with my men is key, so I invite them to the table and keep us even till I win in the end and reimburse them to earn their trust.

3 Gamble, gotta earn what I can when among the other sargents and big purses around town.

>>10679

The owner of a local store goes to check the accounts, only to find that he is missing a page from his ledger, a quill, and a bottle of ink. A torn piece of paper with shaky writing lies on the desk. It reads: "Don't worry. I'll bring it back."

In a nearby alley, a drunk young man sits on a crate, writing a letter. The paper is perched on his leg and the ink from the pen is running through onto his trousers.

"Dear uncle Sigurd," the splotchy ink reads, "I heard about your recent achievement when I overheard a couple of gentlemen in the real estate business talking about your purchase. I hope that the Uhlmannen don't discover this location as well. In any event, I regret to inform you that I am in the middle of something at the moment, and you will have to forgive my absence. Give my best to the family. Love, Aethelric."

When 'Ric was done writing the letter, he addressed it and gave it to a courier, telling him that the recipient would pay cash on delivery for the shipping fee.

>>10679

The owner of a local store goes to check the accounts, only to find that he is missing a page from his ledger, a quill, and a bottle of ink. A torn piece of paper with shaky writing lies on the desk. It reads: "Don't worry. I'll bring it back."

In a nearby alley, a drunk young man sits on a crate, writing a letter. The paper is perched on his leg and the ink from the pen is running through onto his trousers.

"Dear uncle Sigurd," the splotchy ink reads, "I heard about your recent achievement when I overheard a couple of gentlemen in the real estate business talking about your purchase. I hope that the Uhlmannen don't discover this location as well. In any event, I regret to inform you that I am in the middle of something at the moment, and you will have to forgive my absence. Give my best to the family. Love, Aethelric."

When 'Ric was done writing the letter, he addressed it and gave it to a courier, telling him that the recipient would pay cash on delivery for the shipping fee.

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>10365

Rolled 44, 30 = 74 (2d100)

>>10361

Name: Bartholomew Nation

Fluff: Bartholomew Nation is a very pious man. He had been raised to be the realms next religious leader, but that was before the heathens invaded. Their desecrated our holy sites and spat upon God. As their lands burned around him Bartholomew swore vengeance. He took upon himself the role of an Avenger of God by claiming the holy relic and set off to distant lands. One day he shall return and he would have his revenge.

>Inventory:

+ Priest Robe

+ Scythe of Vengeance

>Skills:

+ Influence [The Second Line] (40)

+ Scythe Fighting (57)

+ Preaching (55)

+ Zeal (36)

+ Intimidation (5)

+ Faith Knowledge (10)

+ Whipping (10)

-Children (11)

- Small Talk (5)

>Flaws:

+ [Wrath] You are a rather angry person and have a quick temper whenever it comes to things unholy.

>Bonuses:

+ [One True God] You find easy acceptance amongst the clergy. They will harbor you and care for you as you are faith incarnate. You will of course be expected to do some good deeds for the church from time to time. The poor and broken also flock to you as they see redemption in following your path.

>Job

+ Church Candle Lighter (1 Copper / Turn)

>Other:

+ Donations to the Orphanage (13 Copper) (+1 each turn, costs 1 Copper per turn)

>Updates:

+ Long

Bartholomew allows the gathered onlookers to ponder his words before continuing. “If the meaning of my words are unclear to you, then take heed of what I say now.” Bartholomew gestures around him. “This city will suffer the ravages of war soon. Without our guidance all may be lost. The city shall tear itself apart. I’m sure you all know this. “Bartholomew looks at the assembled crowd and continues. “We must instill religious furor into the masses, make it so that when the starvation sets in they will not waver from the path of God. For they shall know that God is with them, always and through perseverance and with God’s guiding hand we shall deliver ourselves from this filth that threatens our city.’ Bartholomew extends his arms to the crowd. “We must deliver God’s will to the masses and ensure that they remain upon the path he has set for us! We must not allow infighting over food to weaken us as we drive back these horde of unwashed heathens and kinslayers!” Bartholomew slams his hands down upon the podium as he speaks. “Many of us have guided the masses for years, it is time that we put our ability to galvanize the people to the test as we steel them to withstand the coming siege. We must make every warrior fight better than ten of their own, every citizen must be willing to aid the effort to defend the city. We must come together to end these heretics! Once and for all!”

1-2. Bartholomew continues to try and rally the church as well as everyone at it to his cause.

+ Influence [The Second Line] (40)

+ Preaching (55)

+ Zeal (36)

Rolled 10, 46 = 56 (2d100)

>>4984

Name: Oo'ka B'aa

Fluff: A medicine man from a place to the southeast, where the hot sun watches over the Gazelle, the Lion, and the Elephant.

When he arrived believe him to be a giant, and in a sense they are correct.

The people of his region had skin dark as the bark of blackwood, and were already taller than the "pale men". But tribe were known as the Ae'bweya, in their language "The Tall Men" for their great height, towering over their own kin. They lived in a "castle" of stone and mud baked by the sun, on a great mound built by their ancestors long ago.

Perhaps this explains why ever since his arrival the only men he could speak to without looking down were on horse, and why he must bend his back to navigate the short roofs of the cold grey stone of the pale men.

With the Uhlmannen came the end of the tribe, they tore down the catles of their ancestors, and those who survived fled, as he did. Over great distances he lead them, seeking to flee the "Horse barbarians" as far as the ends of the world. And that's where they seem to have ended up in. A strange land, with strange people and strange tongues, and the sky is bitter and cold, and the nights long.

All they have left of their former life is held in the hands of Oo'ka B'aa, their greatest artifact, a chieftans great club of strange black metal.

Believed it to be magic, it given to them by by the first man of their family many generations ago, and legended that he wrested from the Pharaoh of the lands of sand, who himself was gifted it by the gods, for through generations it neither rusts nor tarnishes.

>Inventory:

[Black Steel Club] - The Cock of Osiris

+ 4 Healing Herbs

+ Some Sticks

+ Several Reefs

+ 1 Dose of Sedative

+ Rock

>Skills:

+ Construction (50)

+ Medicine (100)

+ Searching (6)

+ Hunting (1)

+ Blow-Dart-Using (1)

+ Club Fighting (3)

+ Toughness (3)

+ Lucky (2)

+ Hand to Hand (3)

>Flaws:

+ [Exotic] You are a rare sight. The guards will recognize you easily and people try to go out of your way. The church may also not approve what they believe to be your heathenous ways. People are generally inclined to trust you less.

>Bonuses:

+ [Giant] You are two heads taller than a normal man. You are considerably stronger than them as well, granting you a bonus in all things physical. Except for hiding of course.

>Holdings:

+ [Hidden Healing Hut] Your own comfortable clay hut which has an aura of mystery to it. The air is heavy with pollen from healing herbs, which will keep you and anybody living here healthy from most diseases. it can also heal you after you have already contracted them. Injury recovery is naturally sped up.

+ Turmhill Healer (1 Silver / Turn)

Money: 12 Copper, 2 Silver

1-2. I'm going with them! Where are we going?

>>10365

The organizer gave you a nervous look as the crowd continued to right roar. For a moment you believed to see the shadow of a doubt flicker on his face, looking at the beatdown you just handed out to the last woman you had fought the next one would probably not fare much better. Normally nobody would have cared, however he was the organizer and the smooth sailing of the entire operation depended on him. He probably had more responsibility weighing in on his shoulders than the rest of the room combined, if one didn't account for neglected wives and children.

Lucky for you it was the man's incessant money grubbing nature won the struggle of conscience and profit, the doubt wiped away by a greedy grin in the blink of an eye. Oh yes he was certainly looking forward to having you compete in a few more matches. You would receive a part of the profit, however there could be no doubt that the lion's part of the share would go to the establishment and not little of it would find its way into the organizer's pocket.

The next competitor was a woman lean woman with dark skin and even darker hair, if she was from the Kingdom she could have been from on of the most South Western provinces, however you somehow doubted that she was from within the Kingdom at all. Her body began to tense up as she focused you with her hazel eyes, relentlessly scanning you. If the Southlander had seen the last fight perhaps she had found a weakness in your defense? In your time with the mercenaries you had learned that even the smallest error could be exploited. Had you grown over-confident? With a less than intimidating war cry the woman charged at you.

In a hail of reckless haymakers the Southlander threw herself at you. Though savage and no doubt surprisingly powerful for her feeble stature they lacked precision. Using her overzealous enthusiasm against her you deflected a number of her blows, getting in a few quick smacks with the back of your hand to test reaction and her defense, only to find out that apparently nothing of the sort

The woman stumbled backwards, slightly disoriented by your smacks. Quickly trying to make up for her lack of defense she immediately began another wild haymaker charge. As much as you appreciated a bad dodge training this was nothing short of a waste of time you could be using in order to fight real opponents. A quick jab caught you off guard staggering you. Had she just done something other than a haymaker? Whether it had been the punch itself or the surprise behind it you only narrowly managed to avoid the next two punches, unelegantly sliding through the ring.

Slowly the tiredness from the last fight began to creep in adding up to the bad gut punch. There was no point in delaying the inevitable any further. The world around you began to calm, the surroundings past the ring merging into a single undefined mass, occasional flashes of light gleaming in. As if she was stuck in time the woman came charging at you, a silent warcry on her lips another swing slowly dragged through the air and towards your face.

With ease you evaded her strike, slowly ducking below as her attack missed its mark. You exhaled steaming hot air, forming clouds, your right arm shooting forward automatically, your mind completely lost in the moment. Your first hit connected to her gut with a dampened thump sound, the world around you rapidly gaining in speed as your left struck her lower ripcage sending her rocking to the side with a loud crack into your right swinger already aimed at her head, stopping the Southlander's charge dead in its tracks.

A few more moments of silence remained as your opponents body hit the ground like a wet sack of grain, the organizer already sliding towards her. The world regained its sharp corners, the roaring of the crowd growing louder with every second you proceeded to regain your conscience. Once more you had succeeded, the almost prize money was yours. Victory.

>Skills:

+ Hand to Hand (3)

+ Dodge (1)

>Inventory:

+ 5 Copper

>>21997

>>10366

The most essential part of combat preparations was training. And do you know what the most essential part of training is? That's right: Training! In order to prepare these men as best as you could they would have to continuously work on themselves, this would be to your benefit as well. The other three Sargent's were no doubt be doing the same, after all they too were experienced war veterans, or at least you suspected it. You hadn't actually met with them outside of occasional run ins or sought them out to have a chat once you had found out who had been announced Sargent.

All doubts aside you knew for a fact that your dear (insert family relation here) Tacticus and as it turned out commanding officer wanted the men training in shield formations. While he brought forth some shelled beast tactic in a tongue you have never as much as heard of before you had already made your own respectable experiences in the field of shield tactics. Trying to find a compromise between your already known tactics and whatever exactly it was that Tacticus wanted of you.

Training itself progressed slower than you had expected. You were uncertain whether the men had expected a day off after announcing you as their Sargent or if there were any other customary cultural differences between you and the men who had been born and raised in the city, however you could care less, as the Uhlmannen were almost within reach. A prospect which filled you with some doubt. Working for Turmhill the main focus of your armed forces was supposed to be ensuring Turmhill's escape in case of a wall breach. How would he react if the Uhlmannen actually were to attack the city? Would he flee beforehand? And what would this mean for you?

"Enough thinking about could and would be(s)! Raise your shields you sorry lot! Formation!", although the moment your words left your lips your head already turned into another direction. The church. An odd feeling overcame you. Things were going to get nasty, though you were unable to tell for whom.

>Skills:

+ Anti-Uhlmannen Tactics (3)

+ Shield Tactics (2)

>>21998

>>10371

Ah yes! The great variety of shield formations really was quite something to behold. Even though the Turmhill shields weren't large enough to cover the entire body you were sure your Sargents would do great work bringing the men up to shape. You could tell for a fact that your dear (insert family relation here) Wikiver was already working on some additional anti-uhlmannen tactics as well as trying to bring the men up to speed on various shield tactics!

As for the other Sargent's they received their orders rather well, the Westerner and the former Whitecastle giving you a formal salute while the Easterner merely gave you an approving nod, then again such were the customs of your homeland. From what you could tell progress was good and the units all commenced training at roughly the same time, while the Whitecastle Veteran's group arguably made the most progress of the day the Easterner and Westerner delivered a close head to head race trying to outdo the other, though there could be no objective mean to determine who actually had achieved more progress.

Although Wikiver had already begun training and his group was somewhat ahead of the others initially especially the Whitecastle Veteran's group was quickly closing in, progress on Wikiver's group had been stunted due to unknown complications. Perhaps some form of discontent, though nobody had openly voiced anything of the sort and they had just made him their Sargent by popular vote. You weren't going to loose any sleep over it though, after all progress never was linear and you still had peasantry to spy on.

It was surprisingly easy to infiltrate the peasantry, evil tongues would claim that perhaps your blood was not as blue as most thought, but really this must have been due to your vast military expertise. Besides you always had a talent for just being an awesome guy in general. That said you quickly came to a surprising conclusion. The broad majority of the peasantry was not indifferent but strongly opposed to Duke Lyion claiming the throne. When questioned as to why they held this position many of them proclaimed that the faith was very clear on matters of kinslaying and that no true follower of the faith may consider Duke Lyion his rightful King.

Aside from this rather surprising revelation you also found that there seemed to be a new power within the city walls. Though they carried no official banners or arms you overheard people every now and again talking about the "Second Line" some form of organization dedicated to supplying the refugees and ensuring order within the city in case of a siege. While this would have been a worrysome turn of events in most cases it would appear that the Second Line was closely tied to the church for some reason and as such posed no direct threat to the aristocracy. For now.

>Skills:

+ Anti-Uhlmannen Tactics (5)

+ Shield Tactics (5)

+ Disguise (2)

>>21999

>>10372

The Bindings described by Bello the Black are mostly used as a way to create a Mirror image or Shadow of a Demon. This Shadow or Mirror will only possess a fraction of the actual entity's power and while it is unclear whether the intelligence that is brought to this world by creating the Mirror is in fact the entity itself Bello claims that it is safe to assume that the entity is well aware a Mirror or Shadow is being created.

One of the large aspects in which Bello the Black's understanding of summoning and those of other experienced wizards split is in whether or not the summoned entity requires a host. Bello reasons that as what is brought forth from hell is merely a Shadow it will require a body to harbor it and will in fact dissipate the moment the host body is destroyed. He is however not specific as to whether the actual host body is alive or whether the entity could also be bound to an item, such as a lamp.

Another important aspect of summoning and binding a Mirror is knowledge of the entity being summoned. Depending on the layer of hell from which the Entity originates it will show a certain pattern of behavior, while stronger entity's such as Arch-Demons are more prone to such behavior. Furthermore the layer of origin will also influence the ingredients required for the summoning in particular. Trying to appeal to the sinful behavior of a particular layer may appeal to the benevolence of the summoned entity.

Speaking in general a Mirror is bound to a host for a single specific purpose, this is often done in order to encourage the entity to actively work towards achieving this goal. If an entity has been summoned for a specific purpose this will be reflected in the way the binding is set up and the entity will be aware of this, that said an entity may also be summoned for an unspecific purpose and will dissipate either at its master's command, its master's death or should the host body be destroyed.

Not much is transcribed about the actual interaction between host and entity, however Bello describes that while the entity has the ability to grant the host power it only has a very limited influence over the host's body itself. There appear to be very strict rules as to how much power an entity may grant its host, however there is no information as to whether these rules actually exist, who enforces them and why. Seeing as about every entity has claimed these rules exist Bello admits that they may exist in some way, shape or form, however he is unable to tell to what extent.

>Skills:

+ Occult Knowledge (20)

>>22000

Oh look /sp/ didn't get it

>>10391

After a short exchange of words you realized that Lilith's father, beardless as he was, not only understood his craft as a smith but also had extensive experience in terms of haggling. Not surprising considering that he had to both craft and sell everything himself unless he had a son tha was. Come to think of it you really didn't know a lot about Lilith's family hadn't you actually wanted something from him you would not have made her father's acquaintance just yet either. Who knew if she had brothers, she certainly did have a mother though you couldn't say you had seen an older woman around.

Not trying to get distracted by it you continued to stress the importance of the dagger and your willingness to pay, however you also noted that the smith himself admited he would not be able to make an exact replica and that this would of course drop the price somewhat. In the end you couldn't tell whether your words had won him over or annoyed him beyond the point of resilience, however the smith agreed to forge you the dagger for 2 Silver. This was quite a hefty sum for a dagger to be paid, but in light of the very specific nature of your wish and the circumstances you still made it out to be a pretty good deal.

No matter how good your deal had been you couldn't feel but a little cheated when the smith told you to go take a walk around the block and come back in an hour merely to find that the smith had managed to craft the dagger in the time it had taken you to chat up roughly four people about any rumors going on. In the end you did have to admit that the man's work was nothing short of flawless.

Leaving the smith it was time to find out some more about the proceedings in the city, but of course you would hardly find out anything of vital importance right here in front of the smithy. No, you would have to make your way back to the slums, into the belly of the beast where you were less than welcome to say the least. It didn't take very long until you found your first source of vital information.

A band of very young men whose clothing and stature indicated that they either made their money selling drugs, collecting protection money or robbing people freely admitted to be working for a man called Blueberry Tom who was apparently on the war path with some hardly memorable Eastern bloke. Whoever managed to do him in would receive the bosses respect and most likely a promotion, something every one of these guys was very eager to receive.

By the time the guy you were talking to finished some of the other guys in the group of eight seemed to start connecting the dots, silent chatter and the rustling of paper emerging from the people further behind. If you were lucky you could quickly excuse yourself and hope that they would forget about the encounter before they started chasing you throw the city.

>Inventory:

+ Grandfather's Dagger (No Ornament, Flawless Copy)

- 2 Silver or -20 Copper

>Skills:

+ Haggling (2)

>>22001

>>10396

And what a beautiful show you delivered. The angry young woman inciting the masses and yelling at breadmakers, Bartholomew would have been proud of you. But just as you had expected the bakers hid their seemingly endless greed behind the devil that was money, claiming they would need the profits to pay off taxes, buy new grain and feed their own families. Disgusting lies used to protect their own selfish benefit, no matter how much they tried to justify it, before god all their lies would be brought forth and they would be judged accordingly.

While you wanted to continue your faithful deed and shout some more the bakers themselves soon became surprisingly aggressive and though you knew you had god on your side your voice began to crack and you calmed down a little. These people were beyond saving, their souls poisoned by the devil's dark desires, no, they would not see reason. There had to be another way to go about this, a better way.

How were you, a simple maiden, not of noble birth but in name, supposed to move the sinners into action all by yourself? Of course there was the Second Line whom you could approach, perhaps they would be able to back your words with the force it needed to penetrate the cocoon that was the baker's narrowmindedness. They were after all a dedicated church organization, if perhaps not by nomination, with whom, if you understood correctly, Bartholomew had a lot of pull. Alternatively you could directly approach the guard or one of the various Turmhill patrolls in the area, but they were unlikely to act without direct orders of their equally narrow minded earthly masters.

Thanks to the perks god had blessed you with you could also let your feminine charms play out, an appeal to sin would be something the bakers would understand. Still, while god would certainly forgive a great many things done for the benefit of the faith it would be morally wrong to commit any sins or to encourage others to give into their sinful desires.

There was one last option you could think of from the top of your head. Having procured two Holy Books from the church, which had been written over many long ardous years by monks in seclusion, these were worth a fortune and certainly sufficient in order to buy plenty of bread which you could use to feed the refugees. While the older members of the church would almost certainly condemn you selling off Holy Books to buy bread, none of them would be able to deny the piousness of your action and your just cause.

>Skills:

+ Zeal (2)

>>22002

>>10413

The scroll case was probably the best idea you've had all week! With the exception of disguising as a beggar perhaps. Any leather maker would be able to make you one, though in times like these most of them were employed to make armor as of now. It would take some money to convince them otherwise and ironically enough your money was largely bound to the piece of paper you were trying to get a scroll for.

But why have one made especially for you? You could always just buy one that had already been made right? Though for that you should probably visit a library and not a leather maker. Then again who would grant a random drunk access to their library? You certainly didn't know anyone, but perhaps one of your family members would? If only you could find someone. It had been years since you had been forced out of your home by the Uhlmannen invasion and for all you knew your family's lands had been burnt down to a cinder.

Either you were thinking about it too hard or it was the whiskey in your hand but time seemed to just slip past as you sat there contemplating the many various colors the case could have and how nice it would look once you had actually gotten around to buying it.

As you woke up you came to the pretty clear conclusion that your spiritual hunt for scroll casings had taken up enough of your time and decided to head towards the castle instead in order to find and lure this Aiska guy in. The guards easily let you pass once more, though you couldn't help but notice that the amount of people lining up to sign in had decreased considerably. While you did not consider yourself an expert on the matter you would have expected that the refugees would flock to any kind of work they could find, especially one that would put a weapon into their hand to avenge those left behind.

It took you a while to scout out the courtyard, however you couldn't find a lead on Aiska. Though you assumed he should have been training recruits there was no indication of the blond haired, blue eyed Easterner. Dedicated to your work as you were you took the time to sit down and have a sip or two of your strong liquor to overthink the entire situation.

And there he was, thundering in on his horse, his golden hair softly playing in the wind, Aiska rode in through the castle gates with ten shining knights right behind him on their white horses, truly an elevating sight. In a sudden fit of excitement you woke up. Nothing had really changed, people were still going about training, merely a large tough looking man in black armor was worryingly staring off the castle wall. One of the nobles no doubt.

As you continued to sit there waiting you overheard something of a planned night raid which had been sent out yesterday, apparently those who had participated still hadn't come back. Couting one and one together you figured that Aiska was one of the members of said party. Trying to follow them would actually require you to know where they have went, then again from what you had heard he would either come back here as soon as he could or not at all.

(You have the opportunity to chat up and convince him yourself via character interaction, this does not cost any actions, just write him a post, he is currently on a mission however so until he is back he will not be able to take actions revolving around the city)

>Skills:

+ Drinking (2)

>>22003

>>10422

All those years you had spent with the Uhlmannen and yet they decided to murder your family. Well this was the first night they would directly get to feel your pain. Your time with them had not passed without leaving a mark on you, you knew them as if they were your own people and if you were completely honest with yourself this was more accurate than you cared to admit.

Still they had gone against your family, those you loved and wished to protect even though you knew so little of them. It was enough to make you take up arms and leave behind your young family to come here, to protect your dynasty. Even now they wouldn't let you be in peace. In their endless hunger they sought to take even the last remnants of what you had left in this world. A hunger deeply enrooted in their nomadic society. In a way you understood them, but you would make them understand you as well.

Dawn was still hours away as you approached the campsite, or at least so you thought. Having left one man behind to guard the horses you tried to stay as low and quiet as possible, your metal muddied to prevent it from shining in the light of the campfires. The closer you came the tenser you grew, where were the guard posts? You could hardly make them out. Here and there were Uhlmannen puking or pissing at the edges of the camp, small puddles were emitting the undeniable stench of piss.

With the hushed breath of death your spear pierced the head of the Uhlmann as he stepped out between the two tents made of pakka hide, they were very furry and strong creatures, akin to cows, however often times much more aggressive and with threatening horns. With no time left to scream the lifeless corpses plunged into one of the puddles with a disgusting splat, you and your men moving deeper into the labyrinth of tents. Here and there you noticed the men accompanying you split off, slipping into tents nearby tents to kill those unfortunate enough to be sleeping inside.

But no matter how well you were proceeding all of this was pointless if you could not inflict lasting damage. Even if you were to slit throats for hours you would not achieve anything of note. No, you had to hit them hard, target their food supply and force the whole army to its knees. You expected it to be located roughly within the center of the encampment though you could hardly tell which direction that was supposed to be. Luckily the faint smell of Bljat softly found its way into your nose. If you managed to follow the smell no doubt you would be able to find the tents mainly used for food storage.

It was easier said than done. More than once you lost the trail, having to remain still for a few seconds to try and pick it up again. Now that you had advanced further and further towards the center even the Veterans at your side grew more and more nervous. The belly of the beast. This most certainly was it. Behind every tent could be an Uhlmann and all he would have to do was shout for all of you to be dragged out into the open and to be skinned alive. Surely your own skin would be a complementary present for your dear grieving widow.

Surprisingly you managed to make your way through the increasingly dense growing forest of tents, for a moment you thought they had grown more sophisticated, however it had merely been one or two tents with distinct clan paintings. Moving past another few tents you took one more step and almost ended up out in the open, quickly taking a step back and silently ordering your men to hold fast. Peeking around the the tent you and nine of your men were almost comedically hiding behind you looked out onto a large open field, three very large tents in its center, guarded by roguhly two dozen men.

There was no way you would be able to torch these undetected, you weren't even certain if you and your men could take on all these guards. "Perhaps we should try to find their leader's tent instead?", one of your men mumbled from behind, the first time anyone had spoken in at least twenty minutes. The choice was yours. Would you deviate from the plan? Surely the tent of the Warlord would be no less heavily defended. This was your chance, however it was still your choice how to go about it.

>Skills:

+ Stealth (5)

+ Scouting (3)

+ Polearms (2)

>>22004

>>10427

(Chatting with relatives is a free action just message them up)

(The Whitecastle family rules over Weissburg the Castle in the center of the City)

(The Whitecity family rules over Weissstadt the City that surrounds the Castle)

(A child of the Whitecastle family has given birth to a bastard, the head of the Whitecity family has given his ironic congratulations)

Your family was working on both sides of the case, Whitecastle and Whitcity so you were well connected to get a noble perspective on the entire issue. The Whitecity perspective was perhaps a little more convoluted than at first expected. Especially the women of the Whitecity family were largely considering how good she was looking even though she just gave birth to a child expressing their admiration and, as you believed yourself, their envy. While the head of the Whitecity family was in luck, swelling in the dishonor the young mother had brought upon her family.

The reaction of the Whitecastle family however was even stranger. While many were surprised as to how well she had been able to conceal her pregnancy with a figure like hers most of the Whitecastle family members seemed to take this stain in stride, though some calls for violence have emerged from some of Lady Faye's cousins.

Talk on the street wasn't much different from that. All the men wanted to be with her, whether they said they were in love or merely wanted a piece of that ass, while all of the women wanted to be like her, even though she had given birth to a bastard. In general people seemed rather pleased with this development as it seemed to undermine the common belief that everybody made mistakes and nobody was perfect, the Angel of Weissburg obviously being the poster child of perfection.

The real question at hand was obviously who the perpetrator was. No doubt the Baron (or Count) of Weissburg would demand the man's head if he found out who was responsible, the church would be sure to back him up on the issue. But who really had the potential to be the child's father? As a lady of the Whitecastle family Faye was accompanied by guards at all times, unless of course she was within the castle itself, in which case the father needed to have had access to the castle.

Could it perhaps even have been a lowly commoner who fathered the child? Certianly this would be a further escalation of the situation, however nothing close to what were to happen if it was discovered that a Whitecity was the child's father. You had tried to find answers, but in the end you had only ended up with more questions and sitting in a bar hoping for somebody's act to slip would not help you to get closer to the truth.

>Skills:

+ Vigilance (5)

>>22005

>>10679

(You didn't actually need to spend actions on this, seeing as you already linked everyone you can assume everyone has been informed)

At last the Nation family has found a home again! A place to meet and sleep, to discuss the next steps and to orchestrate your family's return to greatness once more. While many of you have certianly taken various different ways of making a living upon themselves you are certain that your family will continue to excel at whatever it does in the same way it always has and even though you know that hard times lay ahead you look towards them with anticipation as you know that there is no challenge your family cannot overcome under the guidance of their beloved patriarch.

The house itself wasn't that excessively great and certainly did not hold up to the Whitecity manor in any way, still it was far superior to a shack, an inn or even sleeping on the streets. With a bit of love you could turn this place into the cradle of the reborn Nation family. A few banners with your family sigil would do the place well, that and a fire in the fireplace. Perhaps a bit more cozy furniture and a nicer bed. Yes, now that you thought about it you could see it all coming together before your inner eye.

Now more than ever you would have to think about security. You possessed a key to lock the door with and which could easily be replicated (free action) if you needed your other family members to quickly gain access as well, however the house itself was hardly fortified in any way and while you did not intend to start a fight it was very much a reality you could have to face in light of the Uhlmannen invasion.

Perhaps one day you could even go as far as to install an escape tunnel? An expensive affair no doubt, however having the opportunity to exit the city unhindered by besiegers would be invaluable in the long run. Stupidly enough even if you could afford it the tunnel would take months to be constructed and would hardly be finished before the city walls had been torn down.

>Skills:

+ Charisma (1)

+ Leadership (2)

>>22006

>>11931

Truly your spirit is that of a noble eagle, kind and good in so many ways. How could your best intentions not be represented by the Whitecastle family, ruling over their castle, the very embodyment of a noble family? Though recently one of their women had given birth to a bastard. Though you never really cared much for gossip they did say that she is the most beautiful woman in the region, if not the whole Kingdom.

All one had to do in order to fight for the Whitecastles was to find one of the recruiters which were located in the castle courtyard. The lines of people seeking to be recruited were smaller than you expected with all the refugees from the surrounding areas flooding in from the cities. You had figured that naturally they too would want to fight for King and country, even though who was the real king was still up for debate.

Upon having signed up, receiving your equipment and taking a walk around the courtyard you quickly learned to differentiate between two very distinct groups withthin the Whitecastle soldiers. The Veterans and the Recruits. While you presumed all factions had both men who had served long before the conflict and those who had signed up recently the vast difference in experience was painfully obvious to see, Veterans seemingly taking on entire hordes of new recruits in sparring matches.

While you would not put yourself on one level with the Veterans you definitely did not belong to the recruits. The way they moved and held their swords just rubbed you in the wrong way somehow. These men would not last a minute against a sophisticated Uhlmannen charge. They would either break and run or be cut down where they stood. Silently you made a not to yourself that if you were going to fight you would have to make sure that it was the Veterans that were watching your back.

>Inventory:

+ Iron Sword (Whitecastle)

+ Leather Armor (Whitecastle)

>Job:

+ Whitecastle Soldier ( 1 Silver / Turn)

>>22007

>>11936

Finally someone had recognized your truly limitless potential, seeking to familiarize yourself with the men you looked around Turmhill's courtyard, suddenly realizing that you had no idea whom exactly you had been named Sargent off. There were dozens of them, slacking off here and there, some training, all dressed in their Turmhill leather armor, carrying around newly made wooden shields. Only few of them gave you the impression of truly experienced fighters though here and there you could spot a cutthroat or brawler, merely by how they carried themselves. An interesting ability you had gained for spending countless evenings with people of the same kind.

Having no better option to gather the attention of your men you place yourself in a central location and yell, "Men! Form up!". Many exchange questioning looks, some shrugging others nervously rubbing their hands, however nobody really seemed to move. "I said form up you lazy shits!", you yelled a little louder this time, people growing more and more nervous, now exchanging even more concerned looks, looking around helplessly in search for some validation. Surely your own men should recognize you. "If you don't move your ass into formation this instant I will have it nailed to the city gates!". Now a handful of people began assembling reluctantly. Two cutthroats and three raw recruits. Good enough.

Now that you had gotten them on the ropes it was time to reel them in. In a sudden shift of attitude you invited them to a friendly game of cards, unexpectedly completely pulling them off. While the recruits continued to throw their money at it in expectations of victory the two cutthroats were busy trying to figure out how you were cheating. Jokes on them, you were just lucky. In the end you hand them back their lost money, a deed to which the recruits react to with glee, however the cutthroats seem somewhat confused at the gesture.

>Skills:

+ Leadership (5)

+ Gambling (2)

>Squad:

+ 3 Turmhill Soldiers (Recruits)

+ 2 Turmhill Soldiers (Cutthroats)

>>22008

>>18612

Many of the people you spoke to were refugees having left behind most if not all of their belongings, some could never hope to return to their lands and once the winter set in even more would starve or freeze to death. The church was unable to harbor all of them, or supply food for them. Though now that you thought about it you did come to the conclusion that either the church should have gathered substantial amounts of coin in a town like this, or that they had spent it on a number of things that were either expensive or a whole lot of them.

As you continued to preach to the people across the city you could always hear an angry high pitched voice in the background. At first you were unfamiliar with it but the longer you proceeded to preach the more you began to notice the frequency and even over your own loud and zealous words you could slowly piece together the message they carried. Apparently your (insert not-blood family relation here) Natasha had been attempting to convince several bakers of handing out food to those seeking refuge. An attempt deserving commendation no doubt, but from the increasingly angry tone in her voice you made out that things were not proceeding as well as she had hoped.

After your words you can merely hope that some people of influence were amongst the onlookers, to help the both of you in your efforts, otherwise you were of course very well able to throw yourself at the issue, still there were a plethora of other things you had to consider, by now you were a reknown man after all.

For once you had some time on your hand, utilizing it to appreciate the marvelous craft that was the cathedral's painted roof. You couldn't help but wonder how they had managed to work up there, certainly it had taken insane amounts of effort, though the imagery was quite an odd one you had to admit. Devil and Angel offering man a grail? You would have expected a lot of things though this hardly referenced to a passage in the holy book.

Suddenly you were torn from your silent contemplation, a red cloak had approached you firmly grasping your shoulder, he pointed over to a large black man, surely he was from the far South, flanked by five red cloaks carrying a variety of different weapons.

"We have found this man a practicioner of witchcraft.", the red cloak opened the conversation without any further ado, "He used the blood of orphans to cure the disease of Maxim Turmhill's son, working with a mortician to gather his unholy ingredients. There can be no doubt that he has commited many more sinnful deeds we do not know about as of now, however this should be more than enough to condemn him.".

It didn't take a lot of thinking to realize that they were awaiting your judgement, as you looked at the Southlander you could feel something in your stomach clench. He was about two heads taller than most other men and carrying a large club as black as the night. Honestly you were uncertain how they had gotten him here in the first place though no matter what verdict you were going to give it was unlikely he would abide by it willingly.

>Skills:

+ Preaching (3)

+ Zeal (1)

+ Influence [Second Line] (1)

>>22009

>>19951

Without any further words two of them walked behind you, another two flanking with the last ones taking point. Quickly your little procession began to move through the streets of the city and even though you were surrounded by people in red cloaks it proved easy to observe your surroundings. One of the many benefits of being a tall fellow.

People left and right stopped to stare, some looking shocked, many indifferent, honestly this was pretty much the same reactions you had gotten from the very first day you had made your way into the Northern realms. They too were afraid of the horsemen and even though you hadn't paid a lot of attention to recent news you could people here and there talk about an imminent Uhlmannen threat that was inevitably going to sack the city. It sounded like the people had seen the future themselves.

Slowly your group made its way into the heart of the city, streets got larger, but the amount of people increased even faster than the size of the streets. Even in the city center you didn't remember there being this many people, most of them reminded you of beggars with torn clothing, some with barely stitched wounds. It would be an easy task for an Uhlmannen spy to infiltrate this flock of people for sure and you couldn't help but feel that somewhere a watchful eye rested upon you.

Initially you hadn't been all too sure where your journey was going, however when you first set foot onto the almost ancient steps it became all the more clear. The church, or cathedral rather was an immensely impressive building, already towering above all others it had been built on a large hill as the city's castle and was forming a stark contrast to the otherwise almost flat landscape of city roofs. The building itself had two large towers with countless finely crafted statues and carvings decorating its outside. There could be no doubt that this was one of the few buildings truly deserving of the name "House of God".

As you stepped into the venerable halls of the cathedral you were overcome with awe, hundreds of candels lighting up the vast interior that looked like you had been swallowed by an ancient stone beast. While itself surprisingly empty, past countless benches in the center of the cathedral, staring up to the beautifully painted ceiling in silent contemplation, stood a man. He was dressed in an humble priest's clothing and nothing would have led you on to believe that he was anything else but a priest or scholar if it hadn't been for the large Scythe that was strapped to his back. A sign of burning hatred in an otherwise so calm church.

One of the red cloaks leading you strayed from the formation, rapidly approaching the man and grasping him by the shoulder, tearing him from his thoughts and back into the reality of the church. "We have found this man a practicioner of witchcraft.", you could hear the silent echoes through the cathedral, "He used the blood of orphans to cure the disease of Maxim Turmhill's son, working with a mortician to gather his unholy ingredients. There can be no doubt that he has commited many more sinnful deeds we do not know about as of now, however this should be more than enough to condemn him.".

You really pitied the man in question, though as a scholar you weren't exactly a supporter of barbaric healing practices either.

>Skills:

+ Bliss (2)

bumparoni