Strategus RP

[Sir Henry]

In general, doing some stuff that's more than just ordinary will get you a key.

Example:
[21:11] <_Punisher> make them write a RP story about strategus or something on the forum in a new topic

Ofc, not limited to it.

So heres my attempt at an RP story...

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Cedric was the bastard son of Baron Henry of Westland.  He was trained to be a knight from when he could first walk and became a skilled fighter.  His father still allowed him the privileges fitting for a noble's son even though Cedric was not his legitimate son.  That son, Harold, was taught by his mother, the wife of Baron Henry, to hate Cedric.    Cedric did not mind the rivalry with Harold, he was happy.  However, the happy times did not last.  Westland broke into civil war when several Baron's revolted against the king.  The king's forces were defeated and Baron Henry fell during the battle.  Harold ascended to title of Baron and swore his allegiance to the rebel's candidate for the throne.  When Cedric opposed him, he ordered him arrested and executed.  Cedric and several of his most trusted followers fled across the sea to Calridia.  They found the land perfect for warriors of their skill and swore allegiance to the King of the Swadians.  However, the old kingdoms collapsed and new ones arose.  The Templars, the Mercenaries, the Fallen, Among the Shadows, and Illustrious Rocketeers Corpse among the most powerful.  These too went to war and some were destroyed.  The Templars and their allies fell under the combined forces of the 22nd Battalion, Gardankia, the Nordmen of Fenada,  and the Druzhina.  These factions along with several smaller ones formed the United Independent Factions.  The Fallen and their vassals, along with the Shogunate and The Illustrious Rocketeers Corpse opposed the growing power and they began a massive war for supremacy in Calridia.  The Shogunate and Illustrious Rocketeers Corpse financed their expedition by selling or giving away their lands, and took everything they had in a massive effort now referred to as the Pub Crawl.  A new empire rose up in these deserted lands.  Lots and Lots of Jolly Knights settled a majority of the Illustrious Rocketeers Corpse's former territory.  The Nordmen of Fenada conquered the remaining Shogunate territory.  Cedric knew he would make his fortune here.  However, they could not enter the land because a they required a strange sort of passport that involved a group of numbers and letters forming a key   

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[H4rdn3ssKill3r]

I woke up, where I dunno, ''Fuck'' I shout. I just noticed, I was in the sea. I saw land, but of course the gods are some tricky bastards and it was longer than it looked but against all odds I started swiming.

While I was swimming I tried to remeber what the hell just happened, pain circulated my whole body thumping my brain and sapping my muscles. But I remebered only bits of it, but as they circulated throughout my brain they hurt. Sea raiders, wife, dead, dumped in sea and the biggest thought in my head? Well that was ''Revenge''.
As soon as I hit the sea I started to make my way to sargoth, I knew the Sea Raiders hanged around there, and for dear god they will pay but every step hurt, every muscle contracting and retracting was excrutating but that did not matter right now, what mattered was the sweet sense of revenge.

I reached sargoth and I started to search around, first the Merchant guild master, but that son of a whore was to scared but I made him less scared, less scared by ''certain'' means. After much work with the merchant I left for the delta where the sea raiders were embarging for another pillaging foolishly I shout ''YOU BASTARDS, ILL RIP YOU'RE HEAD OF'' without much thought I charged, unsheathing my sword and going beserk nothing but pain and destruction went through my mind, I parried one and reposted him hitting square on the chest, dead but suddenly a beserker with a huge axe comes, I defend myself but he is relentless and unwillingly I was not first he hacked of my legs, I feel for what felt like minutes and as fast as it started it finished, the axe came down, SLOOMSH, SLOOMSH.

As darkness came around me, as all the energy gets destroyed, cells anilihated and fat mushed, the most scary was the nothingness I felt...


Sorry searaiders, you're all evil

[Keshian]

Travelling in a rather strange land called Calradia (thinking to myself who the fuck came up with an idiotic name like calradia, sounds like some infomercial product for a good laxative) I ventured forth in search of adventure.  I came across a band of warriors calling themselves the Templars who sheltered non-clanned travellers and were considered "good" by the local populace under their rule (seriously why would anyone think a clan based on a group that raped and killed half the kingdom of jerusalem often destroying everyone man, woman, and child in a city because they were a different religion and causing the next thousand years of jihad, is a "good" clan).  After a brief stay, the women and ale became stale (not necessarily in that order) and I continued my journey.

Thereupon I saw a multitude of laughing knights, however I all to quickly found out they were a little too jolly and a little too into other knights and decided this strange kingdom was not for me.  Then a group calling themselves the Fallen hailed me and I greeted them and enjoyed a philosophical discourse about how they were evil but actually they were the good guys or rather they were a good sort of evil and inevitably I fell asleep to the mind-numbing indecision.  Of course upon awaking I found to my chagrin they were an evil sort of prankish good and had stolen my shoes in the night.  But at long last, after countless days of searching, I found a travelling group much to my liking whose whole meaning to life was to travel from pub to pub drinking all the ale in existence.  I became so drunk I blacked out, lost 8 months of my life, and I think the world ended somewhere along the way and then came back again, don't ask me I was sooo out of it man.

[Panoply]

Oh how's a factionless fellow to get a key? Anyway, here's my addition:

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Wading her way through the crowd, Aristeia craned her neck; her curiosity aflame. The source of the commotion became clear as she breached the throng and watched in awe as a brilliant white light descended from the sky to bathe a squat, bearded man clutching a glowing silver key, ecstasy painted across his face. With a great flash, the man was gone, no trace of him left on the cobblestone of the clearing.
 
In the centre of it all stood a splendidly armoured man; the gleaming cross of goldenrod emblazoned on a field of snow white matched the vibrant crown that sat comfortably on his head. The king silently gestured for a similarly sigiled knight to step forward, and placed a silver key into the outstretched gauntlets of the grinning bannerman. As the white light descended once more to claim the knight, a mousey young boy momentarily stopped ravaging a roasted cob of corn to loudly declare, “The keys are given only to the worthy! They’re taken to the legendary Calradia to test their valour; for adventure, for riches, for glory!”

Setting her jaw, Aristeia strode up to the king with as much confidence she could muster, and extended her hand, palm toward the heavens. He studied her for what seemed an eternity, but his face betrayed a certain sadness and without a word, he turned away. Aristeia slunk back into the crowd, shame and embarrassment beating hot in her head. She could all but stifle a gasp of dismay when the king clasped a silver key into the clammy hands of a pug-nosed sellsword of ill repute. The mercenary had begged forgiveness and professed his new found faith during his trial a month back, narrowly escaping the death sentence that was typically meted out for child rapists. The white light caused the sweaty boils on the man’s forehead to glisten, and Aristeia felt nauseous; her head swimming with confusion and outrage. In her mind, the boy’s words echoed, “only to the worthy...”

Somewhere in the distance a dоnkey guffawed loudly, as if to mock her.

Salty tears stung her eyes as she shoved her way back out of the mob. When she emerged from the crowd, she was greeted by a short man who was leaning on what appeared to be a hammer made of petrified faeces. Though his face was obscured by a straw hat, his voice was clear, “C’mere ya shoeless bitch. Ya wanna key, do ya? They say there be keys in the Marsh of Irc.” Aristeia gaped at him, but quickly broke into a sprint, her calloused feet crunching against the gravel of the road. “Oh, and beware the trolls!”, he called after her.