The Thirteenth is a small but dedicated NA clan, eager to fight but desparately seeking allies. We don't seek fief ownership (but wouldn't say no if one was offered), but wish to attach ourselves to a larger clan and earn some glory for them on our own.
But right now we are in trouble:
The melting snow dripped from the towering spruce trees near New Fenada, Bryggan's men were desparately rubbing their arms and hands as they tried to keep warm, for they were all only wearing loin cloths. Bryggan considered calling a halt to build a warm up fire, but dropped the thought as there seemed to be no dry wood nearby.
He heard the splat splat of bare feet running through the slush, and saw his outrider... er, out walker, as he had no horses. "Sir, an army approaches', the outwalker proclaimed. "It is Dirk, returning from New Sargoth"
"Very good," Bryggan said, "I'll go greet him"
When Bryggan ran ahead and saw Dirk's army, he was flabbergasted. Unlike his own men, who were freezing in the wet spring air, Dirk's men were drenched in sweat. Each man was staggering under the weight of three crates of exotic ale. Dirk saw him and ran up to him. "Look at this!" he cried, "When I sell this I'll be able to arm my guys with some excellent gear. I spent 6000 denars on this, so I should at least triple that in no time.
"Bryggan said nothing, but stared coldly at him. Then he dropped him with a right hook. Dirk sprawled out in the slush. "What was that for!"
"300 crates! 300 fracking crates of flicking Sargoth Ale!!!" he screamed. "chadz almighty! Now who in their right mind will let you walk by them if they have even a minimum amount of gear. By Armagon, I'll be surprised if you make it out of this forest alive, let alone make it to New Reyvadin.
Dirk rubbed his jaw, then glanced back at his men. Naked and unarmed. Under the weight of their trade goods they were travelling oh so slowly. Any army could catch up to them. "I think I might have gotten a little greedy," he suggested, "Could you maybe take half. We just can't throw it away."
"Frack! Very well, I'll do it, though even 150 crates is way too much. But my outride... walkers tell me there are no armed troops anywhere near. They tell me Jack1 is entering New Sargoth and he potentially could buy gear, but he only had ten crates so I doubt he'll be able to afford too much good stuff. Plus the Frisians have always been our friends."
Bryggan grasped Dirk by the arm and helped him up out of the wet snow. "Thanks, Bryggan. I'll distribute the goods amongst your army. Then I'll head north, there should be less chance of bandits up there."
"Very good."
Several hours later a large wagon approached. Bryggan hailed the rider. "What's this" he asked. "Peasant gear for your men" the man cheerfully responded, "You are being attacked by Jack1 of Frisia"/i]/
With Jack1 of Frisia attacking me due to the incredible stupidity and greed of our dear Dirk (oh yeah, I'm totally throwing him under the bus), we need roster support. I doubt Jack1 has much good gear, unless all the Frisians gave him their silver, but I really doubt that. Dirk and I have been trading since the start, and he has made s6000 (before he bought all that ale in New Sargoth), and I made s4000. How much broken gear can you buy with that?
So I offer a one month free mercenary contract to whichever clan gets on our roster and earns the most points collectively. We are currently 2.5 very active strat and Crpg players. This is an extremely good deal, which I'm offering not just because I want to avoid getting my ass kicked, but also because we'd like a little direction in this game. We need friends, and we need enemies. We will do anything. Anything. Um, if you are one of those homo-erotic clans, I won't, but I'll make Dirk do whatever you desire. That'll teach him to buy 300 crates with 100 men.
Talk to us on the13th.teamspeak.com or message me.
Thank you in advance.
