BC: On the Whiterun River [IC]

Convicted Murderers, Thieves, and pirates. They all have a propensity towards violence. Something that the Empire of Khodar needs in its struggle against the Thelmor Dominion. As a convicted criminal, you are given the choice. Serve in the army for a chance at freedom or go to headsman. Wanting to live, you choose the former and enter the world of the Black Company.

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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby Merry Mortician » Thu Sep 10, 2015 6:53 pm

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As introductions are made, Oz states quite plainly, "My name is Oswyn Carver. Most call me Carver. Few call me Oz." He doesn't react straightaway to the arrival of the crow. The corner of his mouth turns up slightly at Horns's comment but he looks over his shoulder without comment. He thinks of the many travels he has made up and down the waterway, tending ailments here and closing wounds there. Until the plague hit, he'd lost but a few of his patients. Ataxia and Cynris are probably correct in that there will be bountiful corpses in his future. Gods willing, those will be more Thelmor Inquisitors than not...but Oz has learned not to lean too heavily on his luck or any divine intervention.

He turns again to the fellows beside and before him. "Have you lot any military experience? I can barely aim a damn crossbow; I prefer to meet my end a free man but I do not relish the thought of being impaled, bludgeoned, or incinerated. This Black Company had better present at least rudimentary combat training."
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby PMiller » Fri Sep 11, 2015 1:07 am

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Horns did not think working for an evil wizard in an underground labyrinth counted as military experience. He snorted a negative sound and shook his horned head at Oz’s question.

But he did know how to fight. “I already know sum of fightin’, but prolly not the army trainin’ kind.”

The minotaur was no teacher either, but spared a thought for whoever might be in the cabin. Perhaps she was to be their leader and train them. Though from her previous reaction from the guard’s comment, he doubted it.
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby Mercevial Xenn » Fri Sep 11, 2015 8:58 am

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Ataxias head whips about as the odd crow lands on the barge. Being new and an oddity, the gnomes mouth drops agape as he watches the bird hop towards the covered convict. "Ooooooooo...," involuntarily leaves his lips, as if the crow were something shiny a child had spotted. As the crow cocks its head and looks about, Ataxia mimics it with his own curious head movements. "I wonder if you could carry a bomb..?" the gnome asks quietly.

When Carver asks about military experience Ataxia pipes up,"Sadly, no. My puppet master didn't build me that way." He shakes his head and looks up to the sky. He laments only do a moment before adding, "But NJ taught me a thing or two about taking my bow skills to the next level. Those Bedlamites are so helpful in so many ways!"

The bizarre looking gnome smiles from ear to ear as he recollects his old gang.
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby Herzog » Fri Sep 11, 2015 11:41 am

944 FE, Septembus - Early Morning

The crow cawed and flapped it's wings as it took offense at Horn's comment on being breakfast. It then took off and buzzed close by the minotaur. It then it caught a draft and circled the barge.

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"Huh, friendly crow, " commented Cynric as he watched the bird fly away.

On the question of military experience and such. The long haired man shrugged. "I know how to use a sword and a bow. In my..uh...previous profession, it was sort of a job requirement. Otherwise, you got left bleeding in the street. Though I not one for taking orders."

"But, yeah, I wonder what kind of training the Black Company offers. I know the Whiterun River is no where near the front lines...Unless something drastically happened in the last couple of months...so they got to offer something."

Cynric shrugged his shoulders.

About this time, there was more noise from the cabin and then a female figure emerged. The woman looked to be about in 20's, and had skin as white as plaster. Even the hair that spilled our from net like hood was platinum white. Her eyes were darked lined and had a bit of otherworldly about them. She was dressed in a long grey dress, with a black top coat. It was very function and utilitarian.

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THe woman was carrying a small pot that steamed, and wooden bowls in the other. She set down the pot and bowels in reach some where along the center line. The aroma from the pot was better than anything served in the prison. The woman pulled a ladle from her hem, and stuck it in the pot.

"There, breakfast is served. Eat up. You'll need it once we arrive at Ivanstead."

"I'll be back to check on your Brands. Can't have them getting infected either."

She turned and made her way back to the cabin, leaving you to dish out for yourselves.
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby Merry Mortician » Sun Sep 13, 2015 9:34 pm

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Oz nods at Horns's response and then raises an eyebrow at Ataxia's mumblings. That man truly is mad. Murderers, thieves, and worse indeed in this "Black Company". When the young woman approaches, Oz looks into her eyes for a moment, attempting to read her.

With breakfast served, Carver leans down, shackles pulling uncomfortably back against his reach, to retrieve a bowl. "Spiced oatmeal?" he says in mild shock. He had eaten little more than maggoty gruel, burnt bread, and broth with bones in prison. This in his bowl has a very little of potatoes and poorly seasoned sausage. He tips the bowl to his lips so that the contents slide gradually into his mouth. It is unpleasantly hot yet the aroma is irresistible. "Can you lot believe this? What fortune smiles upon us today..." He trails off at the last.

The meal is simple, inexpensive, and filling. It is nothing extravagant but it is remarkable for those who sit on the raft instead of the gallows.
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby PMiller » Mon Sep 14, 2015 6:09 am

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Horns hardly cared about the crow, just giving it a glare and it flew away.

The minotaur did not move right away towards the pot of food. He needed to eat more than others simply due to his size, so he let everyone take their first helping before he claimed the rest of what was in the pot.

Seeing that Oz was excited about the fare, he grunted, "Just make sure ya all don't leave me nuthin'."

He glanced up at the guards. Cynric had mentioned the river they traveled not being near the front-lines so he was curious. "Hey, you. What is this Ivanstead she done spoke 'bout?"
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby Mercevial Xenn » Mon Sep 14, 2015 7:07 am

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The mad gnome watches as the shiny black bird flies off and then turns his attention to the woman emerging with breakfast. As soon as he sees her he recoils in dramatically mock terror.

"G-g-g-g-ghooooost!!"

When the woman glances his way he smiles widely. "Just playin'... I know you're not a ghost. You're not moaning or rattling chains or taking me to see Tiny T and his wooden leg."

When the pot is set down he peers into it curiously for only a moment before dishing up. He takes a spoonful and examines it closely, awe in his eyes. He is just as amazed with this meal as he is with adventures or bugs or waterfalls or Ogres. He looks at it... And then from the bottom... Before eating it.

"Ohhhhhh!! My compliments to the chef!!" He says enthusiastically. "Something different... Something fresh."

As the Minotaur asks of Ivanstead, the gnome nods and looks intensely serious, mirroring the giants demeanor. "Yes, yes.... Do go on, good man," he says to the hippie.
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby Herzog » Mon Sep 14, 2015 12:56 pm

944 FE, Septembus - Early Morning

The guards glanced up amongst themselves. They seemed reluctance to interact with you, but eventually one of the shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

"Ivanstead Barracks. Tis the Black Company's training camp in this part of the Empire. I'm sure the lot of you have seen violence a plenty, but there, they are going to attempt to train you properly so you're more than just ogre fodder."

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Cynric nodded. "Hah, proper training eh? Mighty risky to have a bunch of criminals running that know how to fight."

The long haired man had shuffled over and grabbed a bowl. He ladled himself up some of the stew or soup, and shuffle back to his spot. The meal did wonders for his mood as he eat it with the spoon.

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"Hippie, eh? Never been called that before..." muttered Cynric in response to the gnomes prodding. In between spoonfuls, he explained to the others.

"Well, we're in Eastmarsh. The front line is up north and bit west. A good 100 or so leagues. A week's journey at any rate. At least that was how it was before i got locked up a few months ago."

The prisoner on the other side of Oz poked his head out from the blanket. He saw what was about, and quickly grabbed a bowel and some food. He sat back down in silence, not making eye contact with any one. You get the feeling that he's way out of his depth and wished to be elsewhere.

The other prisoner next to Horns did not move.
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby PMiller » Tue Sep 15, 2015 1:55 am

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Horns grunted in reply to the guard, "Trainin' huh. Good. I not wanna be killed by a fookin' ogre."

He looked to the other prisoners and nodded with some satisfaction. "That answers that."

Even he could use a little combat training and how to use armor. But if he was to rely on the Ataxias and Oz, they could use some more combat skills he assumed. If he had t fight, he would rather not have to do it alone because the wee folk got themselves killed too quickly.

The minotaur leaned forward and dished up a couple of ladle-fulls into a bowl and set it beside the unmoving prisoner with a gruff, "Ya might wanna eat."

Then Horns took the pot and a spoon and proceeded to eat the rest. It was food and hearty enough. He did not comment on the geography, but he was listening and putting it to memory for later in case it was important.
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby Merry Mortician » Tue Sep 15, 2015 3:52 am

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The healer looks over to the newly awakened man. His eyes narrow briefly as he assesses the figure beneath the blanket. "We appear to be much less than a collection of various thugs." Looking around at the rest, "Each of us has a purpose. Combat training will be welcome but I wonder if they don't have another purpose in mind for us. There was an orc-kin on the block who could have given you a run, Horns. There were brothers said to have raped a governor's daughter and then the guards sent to detain them." There is a pause as Oz tips the bowl to his lips once again. He chews as he finishes, "Whoever assembled our crew could have done better for foot soldiers."

Horns addresses the still-covered prisoner and Oz wonders idly if the guards' final beating might have been his last as well. Oz chuckles quietly at the irony of that possible outcome.

Cannons and Ataxia | Show
Are cannons commonplace enough in this setting for Carver to know of them? What about small arms? Gunpowder changes worlds in a right hurry.

Mercevial, I've been meaning to ask: is Ataxia named for the medical condition?
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby Herzog » Wed Sep 16, 2015 6:39 pm

944 FE, Septembus - Early Morning

The other unknown prisoner who hadn’t said anything remained quiet as well, not participating in the conversation. He quickly finished his food without a word. He eyed the minotaur almost with a hint of fear.

Cynric likewise finished his bowl of food. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, having nothing better to use, and eyed the pot, considering seconds. But the minotaur took the rest and that was that. The long haired man was not about to steal the unmoving prisoners yet.

“Eh, perhaps he’s a heavy sleeper….” said Cynric. His tone was not very convincing of that thought.

“Maybe they didn’t have a choice. Beggers can’t be choosers…”

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About this time, the white-haired woman re-appeared from the cabin. Over her shoulder was a leather satchel bag that must contain herbs and healing salves. In her hands was a steaming bucket of water. She had an annoyed expression on her face. The guards seemed to avoid meeting her gaze as she passed through them to fore section of the barge where you chained.

The crow from earlier also reappeared. It flapped past the woman and landed on the prowl of the barge. It cawed again, and stared at the going on’s of the barge.

“All done?” she asked, but then continue, “I’m going to check your brands and make sure they are not infected. Damn prison wardens don’t seem to care if the Black Company receives recruits dead or in the throes of fever induced infections.”

The woman never bothered to introduce herself as she got to work. She went to Cynric first, setting the bucket down within reach. The long haired man muttered something along the lines of hey baby. It was met with a steel eyed glare that shut the long haired man right up.

Kneeling down, the woman grabbed Cynric’s hand and turned it over to examine the Brand. She pulled out a clean rag out from somewhere, dunked into the hot water and washed the wound. The woman then retrieved a salve from her satchel, and applied it to the wound. It obviously stung a bit as Cynric sucked in his breath thru his teeth. The brand was then wrapped in clean linen bandages, finishing the treatment.

“Should be fine in a week or so, but I can’t guarantee that someone will take a look at it at Ivanstead. So try to keep it clean.”

The woman proceeded to move back and forth down the line of you prisoners, moving the bucket of hot water with each time and performing the same treatment. As she worked on each of you, you noticed she has her own Black Company brand on her hand. It was scared over and long healed, and marred her otherwise dainty hands. Like you, she had been faced with the same choice.

Eventually, the woman reached the unmoving prisoner. Kneeling down to shake the man awake, she paused, and reached for a pulse. Finding none, she stood abruptly, and threw a rag into the bucket in anger.

“Fucking hell, he’s dead.”

The crow cawed like it was doing I told you so. The woman snapped at the crow, “Shutup!” and then sighed. She glance about while trying to decide what to do.
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby Merry Mortician » Wed Sep 16, 2015 7:05 pm

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Carver watches the woman work with interest. He is surprised by the softness of her hands when she attends to his own brand, and attempts to meet her gaze but she seems to deliberately avoid prolonged eye contact. He mutters his thanks as she picks up her bucket once again to move on to the next prisoner. At her pronouncement of the cadaver's state, he releases a sigh devoid of emotion.

"The man's fate may well be enviable for all we know." His lips curl into a wry smile. "Young lady, you know well that we lot have nowhere to go and only misery to gain in flight. I don't suppose you could unshackle us until we reach Ivanstead...?" He seems never to speak in haste but adds logic to the request before she can respond. "These irons rub and irritate the flesh. They are unclean and reintroduce corruption to the wound. A soldier who loses an arm to creeping rot is a worthless soldier indeed."
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby PMiller » Fri Sep 18, 2015 1:27 am

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Horns did not react to the silent prisoner that ate and said nothing. He was used to looks of fear in public and just ignored them. He was busy eating the food by the ladleful. He shrugged at the commentary about the quality of recruits that Oz and Cynric were noticing and said, “Ya can always toughen them up an’ train ‘em… but ya canna make ‘em grow any taller,” he added with a glance down at Ataxia. Even though he did not actually chuckle or smile, one could sense the mirth in his tone.

The minotaur was rather callous about the dead man beside him and commented to Cynric, “Well he ain’t needin’ his bowl if ya want it.”

With Oz bringing up the shackles, Horns was not very concerned about it being lose or not. He wasn’t going anywhere. But he did suggest to the woman, “Ya can juss unshackle that one,” he jerked a large thumb of his three fingered hand at the dead prisoner. “He be taken care of.”

If they did unhook the corpse, he would simply grab the body one handed and hoist him and over the side, problem solved.
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby Mercevial Xenn » Fri Sep 18, 2015 1:43 pm

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Ataxia thanks the pale woman as she helps him out with the annoying brand. He watches her as she cleans his wound, staring intently at her eyes with his intense, purple gaze. He dips his head and moves it about, making the woman unwilling look at him.

"Stop squirming!" she admonishes him.

He smiles widely as she speaks. His gaze drops down. "You have super pretty teeth!" he exclaims.

Once she moves on and realizes the sixth prisoner is dead, the gnome stops eating and watches the proceedings with great interest. There was a moment of profound sadness in the alchemists face, but it only lasted a few moments.

He found it fascinating that some of the 'not-gnomes', that called themselves humans, lived such short lives and yet had such a penchant for greatness. If they lived as long as gnomes they would rule the world, thought the diminutive gnome philosophically.

"I wonder if his puppet master is sad?" he quips to no one in particular.

At Horns comment about making recruits taller, the gnome looks up at him, face lit up. "Maybe platform boots would do the trick? I'd wear mine with live goldfish in them!" he excitedly envisions.

"I'm gonna' git ya', sucka!!" he exclaims in the same louder-than-intended voice as he flashes a pimp smile and shoots the double hand point, thumbs up and long, slender index finger aiming at the pale cook.

If he was upset over the corpse mere feet from him, he certainly wasn't showing it.

On the subject of taking the shackles off, Ataxia either ignored the comment, doesn't mind or was oblivious to that part of the conversation as he doesn't mention an opinion on the matter.
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Re: BC: On the Whiterun River

Postby PMiller » Mon Sep 21, 2015 3:29 am

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Horns looked down at the gnome with his antics and finger pointing. He had thought the little man talked weird already, but most of what Ataxia had just said was really strange.

"Never heard o' no platform shoes an' nawt sure what goldfish have ta do with any o' it. Ya been sniffin' some alchemist powder, smokin' some beetle dung, or drinkin' witch's brew?"

"What's with the fingers?"

If it was some bardic tail being referenced, it was not one ever told when the minotaur was around.
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