The Wanderers
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Oh dear. I've just been informed that I won't be able to use my computer for the next few days. I'n typing this on my mobile and can't press the quote button. I thank you all for your kindness, but I must opt out of this adventure. I hope you have a great tine.
FFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-Combined said:
To the edit button again! *Batman spinny logo sound*
I shall now make a character! I hope for the best...
Well, I won't be surprised if I'm not accepted.
Name: Rufus Von Bernkastel (Yep, you guessed it, I'm yet again using this name. Tell me if I should change it.)
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Nationality: German (wait, how am I European if the cataclysm was 29 years ago and I'm only 18?)
Occupation: Noble (Minor-Noble Machine-adept?)
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Nationality: German (wait, how am I European if the cataclysm was 29 years ago and I'm only 18?)
Occupation: Noble (Minor-Noble Machine-adept?)
Well, I won't be surprised if I'm not accepted.
Great, I've decided to join - assuming it's okay with you - though for the next couple of days I'll have slightly limited access to the net but I will be able to post.Combined said:
So as for the character sheet:
Name: Beau Robertson
Age: 26
Nationality: English
Occupation: Soldier
If that's not okay let me know, otherwise I look forward to the adventure.
Might want to fix that as I'm fairly sure (actually I know for a fact) that New Zealand is not a Eorupean country, it is actually part of AustralasiaSentinel10 said:
Oh, sorry. I must not have read far enough. I did not know that only European countries were allowed.BlueberryFalacy said:
Well, now the time has passed and we picked the people who will be part of this RP. Sorry to those who didn't get in, but we're full already. Perhaps, another time.
For the rest of you, welcome! I hope you have fun.
And here begins the tale of the Wanderers... (from here on, all OOC text should be spoilered)
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The square was bustling with life, as the tired adventurer rested against his barrel. He was surrounded by a group of people. They were the only ones who applied for this expedition. Supporting himself with the barrel, H. W. stood up again and straightened his posture, trying to look somewhat official, despite his ragtag appearance. He fixed his mask, making sure the skull pattern on the front was visible to all. He took off his safari helmet and placed it under his arm as he stared at his recruits.
"Yes, so, you're my wards and fellow journeymen, eh? Well, well... This will prove interesting. Ahem." he cleared his throat, "You gentlemen have seen fit to join me and I greatly appreciate the fact. You may not know me, though that is unlikely, and for those who don't, I introduce myself." he bowed slightly.
"I am Henry Weston Smith, famed traveller and explorer of the unknown. Pleased to meet the rest of you. Now, to the point. We will be going on a long and extremely dangerous journey, so all who wish to back out may do so now. For the rest, I will say this. I don't care where you're from, who you know or are related to. Consider this a new beginning. I'm sure we will find to listen to all of your tales on our journey, but what I want you to know is that I expect you to do your job. Nothing more, nothing less."
He stood up on the barrel again, putting on his helmet. He waited for a few moments, as most of the crowd dispersed, leaving but seven recruits.
He spoke again, his gruff, simple voice noticeably louder. "Now, knowing that you will not be leaving, I will give you a couple of hours to go home, pack your most important belongings and think about the entire travelling bit, just in case you wish to leave. I'll meet you in "The Dragon's Lisp" tavern. Which just so happens to be right across from me, over there." He pointed in the direction. "There, you'll get your initial payment of 10 New Carthage pounds per capita, which is a huge sum, mind you, and I'll go over our plan, as well as introductions. Any objections? No? Excellent."
The adventurer got off the barrel and took down the poster, folding it and placing it in his pocket. He looked over his expedition team and felt a mixture of excitement and fear. He pushed the feelings away and began to walk, slowly, towards the inn. "Tally ho and all that. Remember, I will be expecting you packed and ready in two hours. Leave everything that you can live without."
He entered the pub and ordered a single pint of beer. He had time to kill and money to spend. Best to make it count, after all.
For the rest of you, welcome! I hope you have fun.
Captainguy42 said:
Sparrow said:
Jedoro said:
piers789 said:
Fraught said:
SamuelT said:
Greyfox105 said:
Remember! Your equipment is limited to small period items, including rifles and pistols, and you cannot carry steampunk items, yet.Combined said:
And here begins the tale of the Wanderers... (from here on, all OOC text should be spoilered)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The square was bustling with life, as the tired adventurer rested against his barrel. He was surrounded by a group of people. They were the only ones who applied for this expedition. Supporting himself with the barrel, H. W. stood up again and straightened his posture, trying to look somewhat official, despite his ragtag appearance. He fixed his mask, making sure the skull pattern on the front was visible to all. He took off his safari helmet and placed it under his arm as he stared at his recruits.
"Yes, so, you're my wards and fellow journeymen, eh? Well, well... This will prove interesting. Ahem." he cleared his throat, "You gentlemen have seen fit to join me and I greatly appreciate the fact. You may not know me, though that is unlikely, and for those who don't, I introduce myself." he bowed slightly.
"I am Henry Weston Smith, famed traveller and explorer of the unknown. Pleased to meet the rest of you. Now, to the point. We will be going on a long and extremely dangerous journey, so all who wish to back out may do so now. For the rest, I will say this. I don't care where you're from, who you know or are related to. Consider this a new beginning. I'm sure we will find to listen to all of your tales on our journey, but what I want you to know is that I expect you to do your job. Nothing more, nothing less."
He stood up on the barrel again, putting on his helmet. He waited for a few moments, as most of the crowd dispersed, leaving but seven recruits.
He spoke again, his gruff, simple voice noticeably louder. "Now, knowing that you will not be leaving, I will give you a couple of hours to go home, pack your most important belongings and think about the entire travelling bit, just in case you wish to leave. I'll meet you in "The Dragon's Lisp" tavern. Which just so happens to be right across from me, over there." He pointed in the direction. "There, you'll get your initial payment of 10 New Carthage pounds per capita, which is a huge sum, mind you, and I'll go over our plan, as well as introductions. Any objections? No? Excellent."
The adventurer got off the barrel and took down the poster, folding it and placing it in his pocket. He looked over his expedition team and felt a mixture of excitement and fear. He pushed the feelings away and began to walk, slowly, towards the inn. "Tally ho and all that. Remember, I will be expecting you packed and ready in two hours. Leave everything that you can live without."
He entered the pub and ordered a single pint of beer. He had time to kill and money to spend. Best to make it count, after all.
Emerson smirked as the old man talked. He'd been waiting for something like this. Everything the man said drew him back to the stories he was told as a child of adventurers and heroes. Epic tales of the good versus the bad, justice versus the unjust, light versus darkness. It sounded pretty fun to him.
As he packed his things, he looked at the large variety of items he had. He had what he was wearing; crude leather armour he bought off a travelling merchant, but he also had his arming sword, an item he bought when first leaving his home, which he should have used to buy food instead. Needless to say, it was quite big, but it was his only defense.
"Bugger it...", he mumbled to himself.
Emerson picked up the sword and it's sheath, before attaching it to his back with the sheath's leather clasp. It was only when he picked up roped bag of New Carthage Pounds that he noticed the others had barely moved.
"Do you people not have things to pack?"
As he packed his things, he looked at the large variety of items he had. He had what he was wearing; crude leather armour he bought off a travelling merchant, but he also had his arming sword, an item he bought when first leaving his home, which he should have used to buy food instead. Needless to say, it was quite big, but it was his only defense.
"Bugger it...", he mumbled to himself.
Emerson picked up the sword and it's sheath, before attaching it to his back with the sheath's leather clasp. It was only when he picked up roped bag of New Carthage Pounds that he noticed the others had barely moved.
"Do you people not have things to pack?"
"I keep everything I need on my person, at all times." Sjors said, brushing aside the light cloak he wore. It revealed a shoulder-pack, a knife and various pouches on his belt. He looked to his left. Two hours would be tight. He'd expected to be out of urban areas by now.
"Well, I'm all in for a drink. Anyone joining?"
"Well, I'm all in for a drink. Anyone joining?"
"Do you people not have things to pack?"
"Aye, I 'ave things to pack, but there be a bit o' time yet." The stocky soldier replied in a thick West Country accent, "Why are you in such a rush?" It was a rhetorical question and Beau wasn't interested in any answer that may come but he felt it should be said anyway.
"Well, I'm all in for a drink. Anyone joining?"
"Give it a while, I'da have a few things to pack yet, but with two hours 'til we leave I guess I'll see you in th'ick pub soon enough." With that he turned towards the barracks to pick up his belongings - he already knew what to pack more or less so he planned to be on the ale in 45 or so.
"Aye, I 'ave things to pack, but there be a bit o' time yet." The stocky soldier replied in a thick West Country accent, "Why are you in such a rush?" It was a rhetorical question and Beau wasn't interested in any answer that may come but he felt it should be said anyway.
"Well, I'm all in for a drink. Anyone joining?"
"Give it a while, I'da have a few things to pack yet, but with two hours 'til we leave I guess I'll see you in th'ick pub soon enough." With that he turned towards the barracks to pick up his belongings - he already knew what to pack more or less so he planned to be on the ale in 45 or so.
By the way there aren't actually any type-os in the post and it actually reads as West Country but if you haven't heard a Dorset accent before then I'm sure that youtube will have one.