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[RP] Into The Fire

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D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

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This story begins in three separate locations, revolving around three separate events, but all shall end the same.

In the west, a monstrously powerful magic-user known simply as The Great Mother rules over the greatest hag coven in Engelain, a micro nation of slavers and demon-courters. It has recently been discovered that she is seeking the knowledge and power to summon the Hagfather, a nigh-invulnerable, god-like behemoth with which to breed. If she succeeds in this attempt, it is quite possible that she will have enough force to take on kingdoms of man- and win. Etheldredda, a descendant of the Great Mother and an escapee from the coven, leads a daring mission into the heart of the enchanted forests the hags call their home, to put a stop to this menace once and for all.

Meanwhile, further to the east, another calamity is beginning to unfold. Soahc, the Demigod of Chaos, Destruction, Fire and Murder has aligned himself with powerful magicians and deadly necromancers, their numbers bolstered by mercenaries, madmen and fanatics. Together they are burning, killing and pillaging their way through the world, for reasons unknown. What Soahc's end-goal is, not even his accomplices know for certain: only that when the demigod schemes, kingdoms topple.

Finally, on the other side of the continent, another event of great importance is transpiring. The ogre clans of the north, often so divisive that you can't get three in a room without them killing each other, have miraculously united into two great nations which have declared war on each other. Wielding weaponry centuries beyond their own civilisation's making and magic they can barely comprehend, it is clear the race is being manipulated by an outside source for their own malicious purposes. Will you be the one to solve this mystery, or will you be one of the many factions flocking to the area, hoping to use the situation to fulfil your own gains...?
Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

04-Jun-2015 21:21:51

D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

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((Note: This thread will be split into three groups that will naturally converge at some stage within the roleplay. As such, there is an introduction for each group. I don't expect anyone to read all three. Simply pick whichever synopsis grabs you and read the respective introduction: Hag Coven, March of Darkness, or Ogre Wars.

For further clarification, the first is a traditional adventure, the second an evil slaughterfest, and the third is somewhere in-between))




Hagcoven Introduction

The Leprechaun's Foot was alive with merriment. Travellers warmed themselves by the open fires, locals were already deep into their cups, bards had long ago abandoned their child-friendly ballads in place of songs such as The Maid's Seven Suitors and The Busty Birdwoman. Crooks and guardsmen alike gambled at their tables, whilst lust driven men paid a pretty penny and were escorted upstairs by one of the tavern maids.

There was only one person at the Foot tonight who wasn't having a pleasant time, sat alone at the bar and draining cup after cup. Dressed in regal, dark-blue finery, this affluent gentleman had a rapier clasped at his waist and a rather comically-twirly moustache, which was currently soaked in beer suds. Though his sombre mood seemed to repel most of the tavern-goers from entering his presence, one figure eventually marched over and addressed the man.

"Monsieur Federico Ricardo?" The person asked, the voice of a woman. Monsieur Federico- because that was indeed the man's name, looked up from his glass to see a woman of above-average height, with iron boots and shin pads and gauntlets and a circular iron chest-piece, with leather beneath the armour and a long skirt over it, which was sliced vertically down the middle to free up leg movement. A spiked mace was hooked at her belt, and a long dagger sheathed, and on her back was a scimitar of orcis* make.
Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

04-Jun-2015 21:22:00 - Last edited on 04-Jun-2015 21:42:34 by D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

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However, what was most striking was her face- or lack thereof. Blonde locks curled around the sides of an iron-forged mask, the ugliest helm that Monsieur Federic* had ever seen in his life. It depicted a creature of some sort, somewhere between an overweight mole rat and a sentient tumour, with horrific ripples of overlapping skin. It made the man physically recoil to look upon it, and he was glad to have a drink in hand to wash away the disgust it left in his mouth.

"Oui, that is my name," the monsieur agreed, going back to his drink and ignoring the ugly-helmed woman.
"You're the owner of the Champions Guild," she stated, and the man let out a sob. The Champions Guild was a prestigious establishment, but had recently been demolished in a demonic attack. Monsieur Federico was hoping that his house insurance would make him a very rich man indeed, but it had later turned out that his insurer had also been killed in these attacks, making the payment null and void. The loss of such wealth was what had driven Monsieur Federico to drinking, for the guildmaster was always on the look-out for a quick buck.

"Was," he corrected the warrior woman. "I could not afford to renovate the building without losing my holiday homes!" He sobbed once again, as only a man who wasn't willing to part with one of four separate holiday homes could sob in such a situation.

"I need your help," the stranger told him. The guildmaster scoffed, a theatrical action that he was prone to doing thrice a minute.

"I'm afraid I'm quite indispo-" A gauntleted fist came crashing into the man's face, knocking him from his barstool and sending him sprawling across the floor. The patrons of the Foot looked on with mild interest, but none stepped up to intervene: they would much rather enjoy seeing this snivelling scoundrel be beaten up by a woman. Somewhere in the back of the establishment, a men's rights activist muttered darkly about the matriarchy.
Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

04-Jun-2015 21:22:09 - Last edited on 04-Jun-2015 21:28:35 by D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

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"I wasn't asking for your opinion," the masked female stated. Monsieur Federic* clambered up off of the floor, dabbing his bleeding nose with an embroidered handkerchief, but did not reach for his rapier- rumour had it that the weapon was little more than a fancy accessory for his outfit.

"Yikes! Alright, fine mademoiselle, what is it that you are wanting to be done?"
"I need you to recruit a team of adventurers, seems like the only worthwhile thing you can do. We're going to be heading into the haunted forest My**viūr, and we're going to be killing every god-damned thing that lives there."
"Mirkvore?" The monsieur mispronounced in a hushed whisper. "That's home to the largest hag coven in Engelain! If we were to fail and the hags were to retaliate, the backlash would be catastrophic!"
"Their leader is called The Great Mother, and she is preparing to summon one of the most powerful creatures on the planet. If she is successful, thousands will die anyway. We need to strike now, before it's too late."
The guildmaster gave a low whistle. "You are knowing of very much, for such a little girl. How do you come by such knowledge?"

"I was born in Myrkviūr," the woman confessed bitterly. "For nearly twenty years, I was a slave to the hags. Now I'm coming home, and I'm burning that place to the ground."

"And I'm guessing you would not want any baggage like me to be coming with you, no?" Monsieur Federico said hopefully, but even with the mask on, the man could tell that he was being given a death-glare, and would most certainly be forced to accompany this adventure. He let out one more forced sob, before lamenting, "Out of the frying pan..."
Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

04-Jun-2015 21:22:15 - Last edited on 04-Jun-2015 21:30:08 by D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

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March of Darkness Intro

"What a lovely day," remarked Soahc, Demigod of Chaos, Father of Evil, Lord of Fire and Courter of Death. He sauntered with such amicability that one might have thought he was just going for a morning stroll with some friends- if one were to ignore the legion of soldiers which surrounded him.

The pack was lead by a loose formation of mercenaries and sell swords, their ranks bolstered by pirates and murderers and black knights and exiled barbarians and any other degenerates looking for some easy money. Behind these was Soahc himself- dressed in robes so resplendent one could have mistaken the demonking for a high priest or ancient king, a mixture of reds and yellows that were somewhat reminiscent of a jester's motley.

Standing alongside the immortal being was his chosen lieutenants for this outing. A foul-tempered man named Raspur lead the mercenaries, cracking his whip whenever they put a foot out of line. There was a magically-empowered hag, Ethyl, that had convinced three of her sisters and their many descendants into abandoning their coven for greater pastures. Molloran was the leader of a local branch of the Cult of Soahc, ferociously dedicated to the worship of their chosen god and denying the existence of all the others. The final member of the group wasn't present, preferring to rest inside his sarcophagus whilst they travelled, which was comically being carried between a hunch-backed corpse and skeletal child.

Ethyl's, (or Cold Ethyl's, as the sell swords had taken to calling her,) sisters followed on behind the group, leading a large group of hagspawn- the blasphemous offspring of hags and mortals, children of enslaved fathers and oppressive mothers. Behind the hag-brood was a large, oxen-pulled carriage, which had a blue-eyed man chained to the front and a man in priestly gowns roped to the back, jogging to keep up.
Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

04-Jun-2015 21:22:25 - Last edited on 04-Jun-2015 21:32:26 by D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

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Whatever was inside the carriage wasn't certain, but the vehicle would often shake and shrieks could be heard from within, and all of the other factions tried their best to keep their distance.

Bringing up the rear of this cavalcade of soldiers were Molloran's brothers from the Cult of Soahc, devout servants of their dark lord, whose merry singing disturbed the otherwise peaceful day. That, and the shambling columns of animated corpses that flanked the small army on both sides, marching in unison, a gift from the one which dwelled within the sarcophagus.

"My sisters tire of this charade," Cold Ethyl hissed out to the demigod. Hags were naturally hideous, but Soahc's face was truly monstrous. A sickly-yellow, his fast receding, straw-like hair stuck out from the back of his head like spines, and his mouth stretched unnaturally from ear to ear, cutting through his cheeks. At times it would seem as though he had three separate mouths- one to each cheek and one at the centre, yet other times it would seem like one giant, gaping maw.

"Oh?" The demigod chuckled aloud, "I wouldn't expect such respectable women to loathe a bit of unrestrained murder. Perhaps they'd prefer to be bed warmers for our troops instead?"

"Yer'd need to up your price fer that 'un," Raspur stated plainly, spitting out the awful taste left in his mouth at the thought of bedding such creatures.

Sending a look as cold as her heart towards the unwashed mercenary, Ethyl turned to Soahc once more. "We've raided three hamlets already, there'll be witch hunts after us, and even worse, adventurers!" Cold Ethyl snarled out the last word, and Raspur spat again. "We should be stealthy, not parading ourselves out in broad daylight!"
Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

04-Jun-2015 21:22:40 - Last edited on 04-Jun-2015 21:33:28 by D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

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"You know what, Ethyl, you're quite right," Soahc reasoned, his grin widening. "I mean, sure, I've got over ten millennia of experience, but surely you are the greater strategist," he rolled his eyes derisively at her. "We can't leave without the fire priestess, the fire priestess can't find us unless we leave a trail of blood. There are two ways you can contribute to that trail of blood. Only one of them would be to your liking, but both would be to mine. Choose wisely."

The hag growled, as feral as the monsters which haunted the nightmares of men, but did not answer back. As always, Soahc smiled in response to this. "Excellent!" He said, clapping his hands together. "We'll shortly be arriving in Oakfoot. I'm going to stop for a coffee, and when I'm done with that coffee I want everyone in this town to be dead. As usual, the mercenaries get the loot, Ubaid gets the bodies, and Molloran gets, uh, whatever those cult nutcases want," he finished dismissively. "Once we've met the pyromancer, well now, that's when things will really start to heat up. And when gods play with fire- it is all living things that get burned..."
Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

04-Jun-2015 21:22:48 - Last edited on 04-Jun-2015 21:34:04 by D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

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Ogre Wars intro


The saloon-styled doors of The Plucky Hecatonchire swung open, letting in the wind and the rain and a rain-soaked traveller to boot. Rickard Herring watched as the stranger frogmarched towards the bar, sweeping off his hat to reveal a mop of grey hair, and a sizeable beard to compliment it. Twin hammers swung casually on his belt, marking him for an adventurer. ~Another outsider.~

Rickard was a regular at The Plucky Hecatonchire, coming from a local village to enjoy the company that could be found at the inn. It was one of the only inns which existed this far away east of the Free Kingdoms, or this far north of the Tyrannian Empire. It was one of the last signs of civilisation an adventurer could find before entering the wilderness beyond, which gave way to mountains and wastelands and the haunted forests of the elves.

Other regulars were about too; Susie the crofter's wife who came here to ********* with whatever traveller was sticking around for the night. Hop-Leg Lenny, whose leg was perfectly fine, but was so inebriated all of the time that he warranted such a nickname. But the Hecatonchire didn't gain its business from regulars, but the adventurers and merchants and religious pilgrims which passed through these parts. Anyone coming south from the mountaintop eyries of the birdmen or the rolling hills of the thousand ogre clans, or west from the elves and the mysterious icy continent of barbarians that lay beyond it, or north from the endless plains of the centaurs and the satyr petty kingdoms, would all find their way here. They made for an interesting bunch most nights, but this night in particular was turning out to be something special.
Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

04-Jun-2015 21:22:56 - Last edited on 04-Jun-2015 21:36:30 by D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

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Already the inn was host to a plethora of interesting characters. Shortly after Rickard's own arrival came a platoon of soldiers from the Empire, lead by a decan** and accompanied by a priest and a civilian in finery. It hadn't been too long since the entrance of an armoured man with a ridiculously blue-coloured eagle perched upon his pouldron, with a plucky sidekick carrying a buzzard in mockery of his master. There was an elf as well, his or her hood up to hide their race, though the points of the ear could clearly be seen through the fabric. A drunken man in pricy looking robes lay in a heap in a corner, presumably unconscious. An adventuress was decked out in armour as blue as that stupid eagle, talking animatedly with the innkeeper, Gerold. A farmer and a merchant spoke in hushed, excited tones whilst elsewhere a smuggler cried softly into his drink.

"North or southbound?" Asked the eaglemaster to the man who had most recently entered.
"North," he said in a gruff voice, shaking water droplets from his mane. "Where else?"
"What news from the road?" Called over the imperial squad-leader, the decan**, whom Rickard was surprised to find was female.
"No'ing too int'resting," responded the old man, taking a pint of lager from Gerold the innkeep. "Sell swords and bandits, for the mos'. Wan'ing to cash in on these here ogres."
The decan** nodded to herself, as though some withheld suspicions had been confirmed, but said nothing more.

"Anyone headin' south?" The old adventurer asked.
"I am," sobbed out the glum smuggler.
"Wha' news from tha north?" He asked, ordering a second pint for the smuggler who appeared to be down on his luck.
Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

04-Jun-2015 21:23:02 - Last edited on 04-Jun-2015 21:38:06 by D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

D†F†Angel

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"There's no business there," the smuggler told the inn at large, grabbing everyone's attention. Rickard wondered if it was worth pickpocketing the unconscious, lavishly dressed drunk whilst the other patrons were distracted. "The ogre clans have united, I've never seen anything like it before. I can't harvest the plants I used to sell anymore, no one dares go near them!"

"Ah, I see," said the adventuring oldtimer, stroking his beard and supressing a smile. It was clear that these warring ogres were exactly the reason why he had come here. "So someone 'as united these ogres an' intends on marchin' 'em south?"

"They're not marching south," the merchant input happily, "they're marching against each other. Two giant armies, the likes of which no one has ever seen before. Once they've killed each other off, think of the land that'll be up for grabs!"

"I feel you've hit the nail on the head right there," said the eaglemaster. "They're killing each other off. You can't put two ogres in a room without them strangling each other. So how on earth have they united into two forces so large, that people are starting to recognise them as two separate countries? Og and Ogrin, I hear the travellers call them."

"Very original," Rickard noted, but no one paid him any attention, not even the drunkard, who had demonstrated he was in fact alive by standing up and stumbling awkwardly towards the bathroom.

"I've heard that they've discovered magic," the blue-armoured woman at the bar told the others, joining in the conversation. "And that they're forging weapons and crafting armour. It's rather odd, that only two months ago they were living in mud huts, and now they're at the same level of technology as us."
Hags be hagglin', gods be god damn crazy, it's all happening ogre at Into The Fire

04-Jun-2015 21:23:08 - Last edited on 04-Jun-2015 21:39:02 by D†F†Angel

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