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Eve
Topic Started: Apr 29 2011, 05:44 AM (2,907 Views)
Tyler
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Prismia was once a land of great prosperity. Located on a small island, the people lived without fear of attacks from foreigners and generally lived in peace. Peasants farmed under kind lords, the merchants were free to sell their goods when and where they chose, and the weather was warm almost every day. City guards, not having to fear attacks from outside the city, were able to turn their attention inward keeping a close watch on the marketplace and residences, which tended to keep crime to a minimum. People generally felt a sense of security as the capital in the south was always willing to ship foods and other necessities to those cities on the island which were running low on supplies at no appreciable cost to the citizens.

Everything changed with the opening of The Rift. Suddenly and without warning, demons appeared the northern part of the kingdom, killing most of the citizens and razing the towns. The king of Prisimia began restricting the shipment of supplies to towns, leading to starvation and poverty in many which had previously depended on the kingdom for their welfare. City guards began to keep their focus on the gates, fearful that the demons might appear at any moment, leading to increased rates of crime within the town. Men were constantly conscripted for an army in preparation for an all-out war. Constant raids by the demons tended to expand the borders of their claim outward, which led to about a third of the kingdom being under demon control ten years after The Splitting. A consolidation of power over the lands still held by Prismia led to increased security and an almost halted rate of expansion by this time, but at the cost of decreased freedom to those living under the rule of the king. The kingdom had given up on reclaiming the area initially destroyed by the demons, struggling as it was to hold back the demon assault. Those towns in that area no longer appeared on maps; the whole area was simply displayed as a wasteland which went by the name of Na'ar.
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Tyler
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Andrew

Andrew sheathed his sword as one of his men beheaded the last goblin they had captured. Next to it lay seven other goblin bodies, each killed only minutes previously in the same manner.

"First time I've seen demons this far south," his assistant captain said, wiping the fresh goblin blood off of his sword before sheathing it..

"They're pushing out further every day," Andrew replied without looking at the man. "We'll have to increase our patrols in this area."

"Increase patrols?" The assistant captain blinked. "Sir, with all due respect, we're spread pretty thin already."

Andrew turned to the man, and for a moment the glare from his britesteel armor caused his assistant to shield his eyes. "Just a little bit thinner," he said. "We're the only defense this town has right now. If we're caught unaware again by a force any larger than just a few goblins, it will be the end of all of us."

"Yes, sir," the assistant replied. "We should put in for reinforcements, though, especially since we'll need to be leaving soon if we're to continue the search."

"I've already contacted the palace about reinforcements. They said they'll be sent to us as soon as they become available, but it may be a while because th- Hey!" Andrew was cut off as a small child pushed him and he felt his money pouch detach itself from his belt.

"You brat!" The assistant captain began to draw his sword but was stopped by his captain's hand resting on the hilt.

"Leave it," Andrew said, making it clear that there was to be no discussion on this point. "He clearly needs it more than I do. As I was saying," he continued as he watched the urchin scamper into an alley. "Things are tough all over."
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theirah

A young street boy sits on the side of the street. He clings to his tattered clothes as he watches another urchin walk by, happily counting the money inside a well-made belt pouch. Turning his attention back to the street, he sees a fairly well-dressed woman coming his way. He quickly stands up, dusting off his clothes slightly and running towards the woman. "Ma'am, some money for the poor? Please? I just need something to eat...." He trails off as the woman carefully avoids him, continuing on her business.
Edited by theirah, May 3 2011, 03:04 AM.
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Humza
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Caine

Caine frowned as the last of the caravan passed through the city gates. He'd started from the south with ten wagons, but demons had claimed three of them as they journeyed northwards. The memory of goblins standing atop the third wagon, thrusting spears into the air in celebration, came all too readily to mind. Shaking his head, the mercenary tried to drive out the memories of what had been impaled upon those spears.

As the gates swung shut, Caine turned his horse and rode back to the front of the column. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted to the group.

"All right, you sons of dogs! We've made it. Be about your business; you've got two weeks before we return to the Southlands! If you need to find me or Norton, we'll be staying at the Hydra's Head."
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Sam
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Alexis

Alexis Carlyle did not look up when he heard the door to his workshop open. The military said they would be around that day, and he had had few other customers for quite some time - not that he would be easily able to serve other customers even if they existed. Things had just gotten progressively worse since the city of Cartegia to the north had fallen. Even such simple things as the bloomery didn't run smoothly anymore; the bellows seemed slightly weaker than they used to, as if they were tired of all this as well.

"You were requested to produce twenty-four new horseshoes by today, and yet you have only fourteen ready?"

Alexis remained at his anvil, continuing to hammer the heated iron into the shape of horseshoe fifteen. "There was nothing to be done. Sorry."

"Sorry?" Corporal Green scowled, backing away slightly from the noise and smell of the forging. "Mr. Carlyle, the safety of this town depends upon us being able to hold back the demons, and failing to produce our horseshoes is jeopardizing our cavalry's ability to do so. I want horseshoes, not apologies."

"The last iron caravan was three days late, and only half the usual size." More demon attacks. The mines to the west were not themselves in any danger, but the path between them and the town was not so safe, even with the caravans carrying an armed guard. "My stockpile was used up long ago, and I can't do anything without raw materials."

Corporal Green gathered up the horseshoes that were completed. "I didn't ask for excuses either. Just get those horseshoes done as quickly as possible." He turned to leave. "Oh, and we'll need another sword too, as soon as possible. It doesn't need to be enhanced, it just needs to exist; Lieutenant Winters is currently borrowing a private's axe."

Alexis turned around. "I expect payment for those horseshoes, Mr. Green."

"You'll be paid when the job is complete, and I don't see ten horseshoes here. Good day, Mr. Carlyle." He marched out, the horseshoes hanging on his armored arms. Even in town, where there were no demons, they would march around in full chainmail - ostensibly in case of internal trouble like crime.
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theirah

The boy continued looking in the direction of the woman for a few moments wistfully, then sighed and made for the marketplace. Maybe a kind baker had some leftovers to spare, since it was evening.

At the marketplace, he looked around. The nice old woman who had given him a spare pastry two days ago wasn't anywhere in view, but her stall was. A gruff, elderly man tended it, wrapping a scone for his customer. The boy waited for the vendor to finish before walking up, pleading, "Pardon me, sir? Would you have some spare food? Stale bread or anything?"
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Tyler
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Andrew

"Captain!" Andrew turned and saw a young squire running towards him. He couldn't quite remember the boy's name... was it James? No, Jacob.

"Squire Jacob. What has you in such a hurry?"

"Captain," the boy repeated, and now that he was closer Andrew could see that the boy was quite out of breath. "A caravan just entered the town through the south gate. Seven wagons. No one's yet checked it for contraband or worse."

"No one?" Andrew said, annoyed. "Isaac's supposed to be watching that gate."

"Sergeant Young was taken off that watch, sir," the squire replied. "The assistant captain said something about increasing patrols in the northeast."

Andrew cursed his assistant captain. "So you mean to tell me that our south gate is completely unguarded?"

"Yes, sir."

"Find Sergeant Young and tell him to get back to his post at once. Then find Assistant Captain Doyle and tell him to report to me at once." The squire nodded and ran off. Andrew sighed. "I suppose it's better that I check these wagons myself anyway. If I'm lucky, they may have her... and the way things have been going recently, I think we're all due for a bit of luck." He turned and ran off in the direction of the south gate.
Edited by Tyler, May 5 2011, 05:09 AM.
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Wesley
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Archibald von Moneyfeathers stroked his many moustaches as he stared out the window, his face distorted into a scowl of contempt. Ever since the demons became a threat, crime had skyrocketed, and it had become harder to keep his fortune out of the hands of those filthy street urchins and the good-for-nothing thugs. What's more, it had become harder to take money away from the stupid merchants who had begun to hoard and hide it in fear of it being stolen by demons.
Still, he thought, I will get it somehow. That money is rightfully mine. Much better for me to have it than that wasteful scum. Money is worthless in such small amounts, and the people need someone like me to pool it and make it useful.
Moneyfeathers rolled his eyes as he turned away from the window. Those idiots have no idea of the favor that I'm doing for them, and for the whole kingdom.
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theirah

The young street boy
The gruff man tending the baker's stall scowled, but at the same time, rummaged around for an older piece of bread. Finding one, he breaks off a piece, handing it to the boy. The young urchin thanked him profusely, smiling as he did, then cheerfully looked around for a place to sit. Seeing what looked like a fairly sturdy crate next to nearby blacksmith's workshop, he made his way over to it and sat down, biting hungrily into his first bit of food in days.
Edited by theirah, May 5 2011, 07:10 PM.
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Sam
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Alexis

No sense wasting even more iron than was already necessary. The blade may need to be iron, but there wasn't any iron to be wasted on the hilt. Perhaps some bronze for the guard, but the hilt itself wasn't going to get any better than wood. Maybe, thought Alexis, if Lieutenant Winters wanted a better sword, he should have been more careful with his previous one. Even if it were damaged, it could at least be melted down and reused.

Walking out of the workshop and around the back to the riverside to fetch one of his crates of wood, Alexis found a young boy, clothed in little more than rags, feasting upon some stale bread. He began to call out to the boy, then stopped, distracted.

Stale bread. That might be his own dinner not far in the future. Business was bad, with the lack of resources available and the guards putting off their payments as long as possible. Especially that infernal Corporal Green, who was always the one they sent to speak for them. Maybe they didn't have the heart to cheat him like he did, or maybe they just wanted him out of their way. Corporal Green had previously been stationed at Valmont, or so Alexis had heard from Erton down at the pub, and he certainly hadn't done his job properly there. And now he was here, and people kept losing their swords and horseshoes and caravans kept not making it through and there certainly didn't used to be this many street urchins around and how many other people had already been reduced to eating stale bread or just plain fled the town for the south...

He continued staring into space in the boy's direction.
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