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Argot's Warriors of the World [Warhammer Fantasy RP]

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by DeranVendar, Nov 1, 2017.

  1. DeranVendar DeranVendar Subordinate

    Coastal winds whip chilly water across the docks of Norden. Thunder bellows from on high, Stromfel's rage sounding like a war drum breaking across the lands. Heavy rain fall blankets all of the town, invading even the sturdiest of roofs and tightest of alleys. Lanterns swing back and forth from hooks and posts, fires dead and constant tossing and turning causing audible creaking out in the streets. Wooden walls groan under aqueous assault, pitter patter of constant rainfall interrupted every so often by the snap of timber as construction projects, lamp posts, and trees further out of town are blown over by the relentless winds. Few tempt fate and Stromfel's scrutiny in this weather, only vagrants and a handful of Nordlanders with more sack than sense remain outdoors. Well, perhaps not just locals brave the storm, for travelers approach Norden along her sodden roads. Their destination a vaguely scratched in 'X' on sheets of paper that are rapidly becoming soaked into uselessness like everything else.

    Said 'X' translates to a humble stone building erected off in its own cloister on a gentle slope overlooking the docks. Sturdy double doors made from oak curve beneath a bronze hammer set against a wooden plaque of the blazing twin tailed comet. Humble windows of tastefully stained glass face out in pairs on each side of the building. Normally glowing from the sunlight that ekes out through the dreary clouds in the North, their beauty is hidden behind shutters sealed fast against the tempest outside. Red shingled roof stands surprisingly intact despite howling winds, not a single shard out of place or littering the small graveyard surrounding chapel itself.

    Feet bare and booted slosh through muddy streets. Cloaks cling with soaked weight to cold bodies, and heads bow against the push of the elements. Salvation is near for the travelers, only a few minutes left of marching through Norden before they reach the humble abode of Brother Gunther, War Priest of Sigmar. With a heave doors are pulled open, raking through the mud and allowing frigid air to pour into the building. Several candles flicker, several more blow out, and a man knelt beside a bedraggled and filthy woman looks up to stare at newest guest.

    "And you are?"​
    Valonox, Colapse, Casavay and 2 others like this.
  2. Colapse Colapse Forum Beta Tester

    "Dagrim, son of Durin," the newcomer said, his voice like rocks grinding. "I'm looking for a group of mercenaries to join. I heard you knew where to find them."

    The figure was a stunted one, shorter than the normal human but quite a lot wider. Thick arms were crossed in front of its naked chest, the bulging biceps covered in strange tattoos, the language of it foreign in this part of the world, but there was no mistaking the speaker. It was through and through, a member of the Everlasting Realm, a Dwarf. However he didn't look like your normal trader from the mountains nor could he be mistaken for one of the few craftsmen that lived in the province, offering their services to the Nordlanders. No, this one was quite different.

    He was naked save for a pair of short trousers but despite being soaking wet, the elements didn't seem to disturb him in the slightest. Besides the runic tattoos, the Dwarf had a piercings in his nose and on his right brow. However perhaps the strangest part on him was his, at the moment ruined, haircut, a piece of hair that was supposed to be a tall mowhawk was now falling to his side due to the rain. Of course, paired with this was a large and hefty axe strapped to his back, within his arms reach.

    There was a dangerous glint in his eyes as he scanned the interior of the chapel, however he made no attempt to enter it. Every Dwarf had a certain respect for the young God, for he was in their eyes the greatest manling to have ever lived, the old alliances were perhaps somewhat forgotten by his decendants as the long centuries went by, but the Dwarf memory is long and they still remembered and honored the ancient pledges given by the Dwarf High King to the fledgling Empire.

    Therefore Dagrim said nothing more as he stood there in the open, awaiting the response of Sigmar's Warrior Priest.
  3. "Im known as Lars the pious" Lars answered, fumbling a bit around his neck before pulling out a pendent hanging around his neck with the hammer of Sigmar, it usually softened most Imperials even if the north had a learning towards Ulfric, though this door carried Sigmars seal. " Im also looking for a sellsword bands, under the name..." he looked at the wafer he had taken off a pole once more " Argot's Warriors of the World" despite seeming atleast half articulate, that was the most civil seeming part of Lars, his armour and looks clearly marking him out as a Norscan, though clearly not your average berserk or marauder.
  4. DeranVendar DeranVendar Subordinate

    "Step inside you two, take the passage to the left just beyond the transept in the back. When you think you are about to enter a Halfling bunk you will be in the right place. Let yourself in and do not go baring axes right away, might be a face or three about neither of us like, but they work for the Ogre all the same." Gunther minces neither words nor time, looking away from the Slayer once he has passed the threshold and closed the door. Stepping in further Dagrim and Lars are able to see more of the woman: slumped over on her side, unconscious and bloody over the ribs. A gloved hand remains defiantly wrapped around a tusk or perhaps a horn, dried blood from previous owner scabbing up around the base. War Priest's hand shimmered a warm gold, man working away at the stranger's wounds in silence once more.
  5. Colapse Colapse Forum Beta Tester

    "Hmf," Dagrim grunted and entered the chapel, his bare feet leaving a wet trace on the stone floor. He glanced at the injured woman, the victim of what seemed to be a Beastmen attack or something like it. Nothing unusual in these rural parts of the Empire, between the cloven ones and the ever-present threat of the Norsemen raids, this entire province was rich with enemies, a perfect place for Dagrim to try and find a worthy doom.


    Speaking of Norsemen, the Slayer turned around and glared at Lars, not looking like he was fond of the man, then again, he didn't seem to like anyone around here. "What kind of a Norscan worships the Heldenhammer? Your ancestors must be turning in their grave at such insult to their...heritage."
  6. As he also entered the chapel, Lars dident really look to the endured woman, in Norsca medical work was very basic, there wounds where a test of strength, you either survived or died, both ocations of revel in most Norscan regions.
    Then the dwarf spoke to him, and he could recognise a slayer when he saw one, as the dwarf tried to insult him, Lars just gave a short laugh before answering, "i would not have guessed a dwarf to take problem with it, though i dont follow Sigmars word," he said as he took grip of all the straps and chains holding the pendents around his neck, pulling them out from behind the fur covering them, Dagrim would surely recognise one of the rarer and stranger pendents, one to the lesser ancestor god Smednir. "Truthfully i honer no one greatly"
  7. Colapse Colapse Forum Beta Tester


    "If you and I join this group, then we would be watching our backs come the battle and a Norscan worshiping Sigmar is the same as if an Uruk would worship Lady of the Lake. A strange, almost unbelievable occurrence," Dagrim said, grunting. But then he saw the icon of Smendir and his hands went for his axe.

    "Who did you kill to get this pendant, Norscan dog!? Looting the northern holds seeking for riches, is that it? Then I assure you, I will settle that grudge starting with you!"
  8. Maleth Maleth Subordinate

    Suffice to say, the High Elf would be a obvious sight in the storm, with the staff in her right hand glowing a soft white light that served to illuminate at the tip as she made her way towards the Chapel of the human god. Her magic was being used for the rather mundane purpose of giving her some extra help seeing where she was going, given how heavy the storm was.

    While the light might only confirm someone with magic was coming, once Selaris drew close enough to be visible it would be pretty obvious that she was a tall, Elf shaped figure that was clothed with a robe that was elegantly simple aside from her attempts at armoring it with leather, so that a single stray arrow would hopefully not be the death of her.

    Furthermore, the robe certainly didn't look like the white colour it once was, with all the muck that she just hadn't managed to get out on her and her shoestring of living expenses rendering the robe closer to being white with various flavours of muck in colouration, given the lack of good cleaners available.

    Once she had gotten to the doorstep she dispelled her staff's light as said to the now visible War Priest: "I don't suppose you're Gunther and I'm late? The name is Selaris Tarenna, and I'm here about the Mercenary business with Argot." The High Elf said, trying to make her haste seem not as draining as it was by keeping her breathing under control, while her rain-soaked hair pressed against sodden robe.
    Casavay, Colapse and DeranVendar like this.
  9. DeranVendar DeranVendar Subordinate

    "Follow those two Elf, they seek the Grizzly as well." Gunther wraps statement up with a grunt, hauling his patient into his arms and stepping towards the back of the room and down central carpet that runs past a pair of polished pews. More and more one looked into things, clearer it became that there was little scuffed about the chapel; whether this was due to lack of patronage or Gunther's apt care remained a mystery. When Selaris looks to see whom had arrived before her she spots the Slayer, already grumbling, and a man that by all rights should look more like a marauder and less a wandering trinket salesmen.
  10. Valonox Valonox Preacher

    Dawne walked through the town with her head low hiding her features with a cowl that was not drenched in ran and saw the sign with the 'X' on it. 'Saw the destination is near the docks could as a tavern of some sort or something else perhaps.' Dawne thought to herself as she approached the building with no one guarding the entrance approached and opened the door and walked inside. Upon entering the building she pulled her cowl back and looked around to see who was in charge or what was in the room.

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