Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Boln's Revolution (Closed)

((Okay, so everyone who picked rebels you will be starting out at Assallya's club. Floatch we'll have Angrim at the city's castle with Celestine. As for the post order we'll just have everyone post once and then go by that because I'm not sure who is still interested in this lol.))

Celestine feigned interest in what the city's garrison commander was telling her, she wasn't one for tactics and she certainly wasn't interested in whatever he was trying to explain. She looked around the room, besides the eight mages under her command she noted a man that didn't have any Astren heraldry. Celestine could only assume that he was a mercenary; this raised a bit of curiosity out of her, in her time of service she had only met two mercenaries and both of them had been oddities in their own right. She held up her hand to the garrison commander. "Excuse me sir, but I have no interest in your contingency plans for a riot. I've been given orders to act under my own discretion, if the city falls into madness then I will act how I see fit." The man nodded and bowed in apology.

"As you wish Colonel Ralles, I will take my leave." The commander left the room with a look of defeat forming across his features, but Celestine was paying him little attention. She had shifted her focus to the mercenary in the room, she stood up and approached him.

"Hello, mercenary." She took this chance to get a better look at the stranger, and noticed the equipment he had in tow. "You seem to have a lot of experience... Are you being employed by the city's guard?" Celestine dismissively waved her hand at the mages that were following her. "You see, these college kids haven't fought a real battle yet, and I could use someone skilled and knowledgeable. Or else they'll just get themselves killed."

Dante was a traveler, walking from place to place in search of adventure and opportunities. No place was closed to him unless he found it dangerous, so there were hundreds- if not thousands or millions- of areas to visit in this world. At the moment he was in a city called Boln, a nice place even though it had been recently conquered by the nearby Astren Principality. He had never been in a war, since he didn't call any specific place his home, he never had a reason to fight in one.


That didn't mean he couldn't take care of himself, however. The instant you lay eyes on him, one thing becomes apparent: he's not human, or any of the other similar races . He was a bipedal avian, similar in colors and looks to the harpy eagle. He had wings for forearms, three extra digits connected to the feathers to serve as hands. Although his talons could probably take care of whatever he needed, he also had knowledge of basic magical spells.

He wasn't the most trustworthy of figures either- he wore all black with some highlights of green, best for blending into the night and shadows. He wasn't your normal, friendly traveler- he took what he wanted, even if he logically shouldn't. He had heard some things about this club here, and since he was in the area he went to go check it out. Walking in, he prepared himself for some stares at first- he was a bird, after all.

The Silken Sithin was a brothel unlike any other. It catered to the wealthy and the elite. It was from here that Assallya Kressair had built her small criminal empire of purloined secrets. It was from here that she used her wizardly powers to scry into the homes of others with a silver dish of purified water and sell that information to criminals and rival parties.

Today, however, the brothel was not a party to the elite and the wealthy. Today Assallya had gathered those that might be of import to a successful rebellion, those that had unique skills and abilities that could spell an end to the Astren menace. There were a motley lot, a mix of genders and a mix of races. A green skinned woman, tusks pointing up from her lower jaw was there. Another seemed to be a lady of the beast breeds, a fox woman with a healthy sheen of orange fur in resplendent armour that announced her as a warrior.

Assallya was, herself, an elf. She was fairly atypical of her kind. She abhorred nature, preferred cities and dressed in sheer silks that left little to the imagination. She was a figure of loveliness with long golden tresses that glimmered in the dim torchlight. Her finger nails were painted in ebony black and dusted with sparkling dust glimmered like the night sky on a clear night and she used them to pluck a grape from the bunch, slipping it between her black painted lips.

They were seated at a low table, around which was scattered a plethora of cushions atop thick rugs. Wine, grapes, cheeses were spread across the table. Surrounding those meeting to plan an insurrection were semi-naked women, each artfully and tastefully ornamented in a theme. One wore a scanty costume that had white fur trim, her makeup in light blue and had a horned helm and blunt axe that would perform poorly as a weapon. It wasn't what people of the north looked like, but more importantly it was what the people in Boln thought that the people of the north looked like. That woman bent over, pouring wine into a nearly emptied glass. Another human woman was dressed as a wood elf. Another looked like a native woman from a far away jungle.

As a human like bird man, another of the beast breeds, made himself comfortable at last, Assallya began.

"I have gathered you all here to discuss the Astren menace. This blight upon our land cannot be countenanced. They take what they will without recompense. They savage our women. They murder us in the streets. They seek to break our spirits, make us bow our heads and our spines in shame. They abduct us to work their mines as slaves. Our noble leaders have abandoned us and now it is our time, our time to make them answer for their crimes, to make them bleed for the evils they have brought to this peaceful land."

Rapping her gold filigreed wine cup against the oak table she concluded, "For our sons and are daughters we must free our homes."

Foxy was out front, guarding her master as she sharpens her sword and her nails. "What would you like me to do master?" She asks him as she looked at his eyes. Her ears twitched a bit as she looked around while guarding the place with her life. She grew up here as a little child as well.

Angrim turns to face Celestine as she approaches and gives a slight bow as she begins to speak. He listens attentively whilst leaning back on one of the castle's columns, his dull and pockmarked steel armor nearly blending in with the column's stone.

"Yes, your highness. I am on the payroll of the city guard... The captain tells me that they are stretched somewhat thin. My men and I have been brought in as a sort of... contingency plan... should the citizenry riot against what I'm sure is your rightful rule."

He pauses momentarily, seeming to drift off into some long lost memory of battle, then quickly snaps back to reality. "And I do have many years of experience under my belt. No need to worry." He chuckles.
"If there is no objection to my warband's presence in the city perimeter, is there some place in which I could house my men? They grow weary if forced to camp outside the city walls."

No one deserves to be subjugated.

Amirah is the green skinned woman with small tusks poking out from her lower lip. In appearance she is a walking contradiction, for even these ignorant city folk that have never been to the wilds can tell what she is. A green skin, and not the those half-breeds that wander the streets with ill intent, this woman is a full blooded orc. Absurdly tall for a female at seven feet of height, her body bristles with power and strong musculature, she looks like she could bend a tree in half with her bare hands.

And yet her clothing speak of a different path, a path of spiritual tranquility. Monk robes cling neatly to her body, praying beads hang loosely around her neck, her hair is neatly shaved on the sides with a long tightly braided pony tail. She looks clean and smells nice and obviously takes care of herself. Her monk garb give her a strange but pleasant outlook despite her muscular and scarred body. A civilized orc? Who's even heard of that?

Whatever her origins it seems that Amirah is invested enough in liberating the city. When she heard of a rebellion brewing she was quick to offer her services and meet at the brothel. The orc monk sat on a cushion in lotus flower position and stared with wide eyed fascination at all the scantly clad women around her. For someone who's always been around ugliness, looking at all these pretty things is quite enthralling. Amirah makes no attempt to hide the fact she's staring, not out of a sense of perversion-- it just seems she's not smart enough to realize what she's doing. It's less a hungry lustful look and more a little girl staring at a pretty dolls she's never seen before.

However, she's attentive enough to know the reason why she's there. The elf lady declares that the time has come, she nods intently and agrees. "I ready to fight." Her foreigner accent is very apparent but at least she seems very willing to aid in the cause. And, to be fair, she looks very fierce despite her wide eye naive personality-- a kind giant who is undoubtedly very dangerous when angry.

In the commerce district of the city stood a store called Your Maid's Magic Shop. No one knew the history behind it. For many people, the shop just appeared on the streets one day. From the outside appearance, nothing can be seen into the shop. Rumor has it that the entire shop was a magic entity but that was a baseless rumor. Inside the shop was well decorated to the setting's standards. Countless magic items, scrolls, and potions were stocked on the shelves and areas. The shop was quite large, enough to have four seating in the center with a table. Upon the counter stood two maids. One was the owner of the shop and her name was Rena. The other was her assistant named Luciana, though for this one she was often seen sleeping or generally floating in her mind. Despite the quality of the magic items, no one dared to rob such store. Gossips around the area spoke of multiple attempts had been made, but those who did turned up dead. As a result, the shop was no one's prey.

Raven was a young woman with unusually colored eyes, they were the palest of lavender. A stark contrast to her raven black hair against her pale skin. She always dressed in dark colors, she wasn't the type for attention, she wouldn't have joined this rebellion if she had not heard the others and then her-self experience injustice from the hands of the enemy. She wouldn't tell anyone her origins, who would side with someone with demonic blood.
"I may lack fighting experience but I can assure you that I will fight with all of you and help free this land even if this land isn't mine. But at this rate any land is up for grabs for them."

In the middle of one side of the table sat a knight, clad in full armor save for the helm, which rested on the ground beside him. It was somewhat uncomfortable, sitting on the floor in his armor, but he'd make do, he supposed. The man inside said armor looked awfully young to be a knight, but his dark eyes were solemn on this occasion. Closer inspection of the chestplate he wore would reveal the embossment of a bellowing stallion centered over his chest, the unmistakable sigil of The Colt. That was a nickname, of course, coined because of his youth and energy. His real name was Sir Alexander Wilde-- though he much preferred 'Alex.'
The renowned knight looked around the table at his comrades, silently gauging each one to try and get a sense of their character. The orc was interesting. Though she appeared to have battle scars, the way she held herself was by no means aggressive-- quite the opposite, really. After a while, he spoke up. "Before we start gearing up for a fight, I'd just like to know how many people here fought the Astren when they attacked us?" His own hand went up as he scanned around the room. "We need more people. A lot more."

In the middle of one side of the table sat a knight, clad in full armor save for the helm, which rested on the ground beside him. It was somewhat uncomfortable, sitting on the floor in his armor, but he'd make do, he supposed. The man inside said armor looked awfully young to be a knight, but his dark eyes were solemn on this occasion. Closer inspection of the chestplate he wore would reveal the embossment of a bellowing stallion centered over his chest, the unmistakable sigil of The Colt. That was a nickname, of course, coined because of his youth and energy. His real name was Sir Alexander Wilde-- though he much preferred 'Alex.'
The renowned knight looked around the table at his comrades, silently gauging each one to try and get a sense of their character. The orc was interesting. Though she appeared to have battle scars, the way she held herself was by no means aggressive-- quite the opposite, really. After a while, he spoke up. "Before we start gearing up for a fight, I'd just like to know how many people here fought the Astren when they attacked us?" His own hand went up as he scanned around the room. "We need more people. A lot more."

Celestine nodded to Angrim. "Ah, so the mighty Astren military is turning to mercenaries for aid?" She paused for a second and realized how that could be taken for an insult. "Forgive me for what I just said, it was by no means an insult to you and your fellows. I've served in the Astren military for 12 years, in those years I've never seen a mercenary company. The Prince is very... Untrustworthy of outside powers." She gestured for Angrim to follow her. "Of course your men may enter the city, I don't know if you know this or not, but the garrison's barracks are quite empty right now. Though I'm sure the commander told you otherwise."

After they had walked a bit; Celestine, Angrim and a couple of her mages made it to Celestine's quarters. Celestine's mages began outfitting her with her suit of armor. "I will let your men in the city, but first I have a mission that I wish for you to partake in." The multiple mages accompanying Celestine were now busy placing her armor over her chainmail and fastening the strings. If one didn't know any better then it might have looked like Celestine was getting ready for a parade. Once the mages were finally done Celestine opened a metal chest that housed a large metal bow accompanied by metal arrows. She chanted a few words and tapped the bow, the bow began to spark with electricity as it levitated beside her.

Walking back to her door she looked back to Angrim, helmet resting in her right arm. "Would you like to squash some bugs with me? If you do well enough, I might even give you a raise..." Celestine wasn't very big or physically impressive, but she held a certain elegance when outfitted in her full battle plate. The masterfully worked armor was intertwined with royal purple robes and leather pteruges, her helmet's plume bouncing whenever she moved. One could very easily see why she was known as the one eyed peacock.

Listening to the speech, Dante tapped his claws on the leg of a table, listening to what they were saying. Astren did sound like the kind of thing they should rebel against...but he was just a traveler, and as such had nothing to do with their conflicts or war. A heroic side of him seemed to stand up then, as if telling him to go fight- not living there didn't mean that he couldn't fight for them. The rest of him didn't feel it yet, however. Maybe something would eventually go different .

Whilst listening quietly on her lotus flower position, Amirah raised a hand slightly when the young knight asked who among them had actually fought the Astren. "I no was here when Astren invaded." The woman spoke with very clear difficulty, perhaps adjusting to the foreign culture, although it look like she may have some kind of speech impediment as well. Nevertheless, she spoke with determination and the confidence of someone who knew what she was doing. "However, I fighting soldiers many times. Tyrants having very same tactics. I certain I know what they doing next."

She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, her every breath was planned almost as if she was reciting a poem rather than impulsively speaking. "I agree that we needing more people, but we also must know that we be spark that can light fire of fighting spirit in people. We no must lose hope."

She chopped at her open palm with the edge of her other hand making a chopping motion. "Strike them hard and where people can be seeing. Oppression no be tolerated."

Raven nodded her head listening to the woman's words. She raised up her hand, "I agree if we want more people to join in the fight against this tyrant nation we have to show that we are worth joining. Give them something they can look up to. It doesn't matter if you're a Knight nor a mage. If we wish to bring anymore people to the cause we have to set ablaze their woes and fears." The young witch was inexperienced but she did read a lot of war books during her travels and she was intelligent for her age.
"What say all of you?" she asked the rest of them.

Assallya had to agree with the Orcish monk and the Witch. She knew them all, perhaps not every little secret, but that's why she had selected these gifted people. They were those that would make a difference. They would be those that would rally the people and not a demon's accursed, tree hugging, two bit brothel owner.

The blonde elven woman using a delicate silver fork to spear a piece of cheese and bring it to her black painted lips. She also gestured towards a half naked woman in some form of attire hailing from the very far east. She used these moments to contemplate her response to everything brought up so far.

"I must admit," she said, addressing the knight, Alexander's, question, "I did not fight. I'm an information broker. I did warn the nobility but they were arrogant and did not take my concerns seriously."

Tracing a long fingernail across her golden brow she again considered her words and shifted her weight across the cushion she say cross legged upon. She was, if anything, a deliberate and calculated woman.

"I could have fought but a few summoned creatures would have done little to stem the tide when our nobles had fled. This is now and now is all we have.

"Here's what I do have to offer. I build things. I made all this around you from nothing. I have at my disposal nearly every secret route across the city. I will scry into the homes and army tents of our enemies. My whores will wheedle their secrets."

"Find us a figurehead, someone or several someones for the people to follow and-"

There was a knock at the door. It was a strong, measured rapping.

"My apologies. A moment please."

The elven woman rose and moved gracefully towards the barred door, carefully placing her bare feet between the cushions strewn across the floor. Then, ever cautiously, she slid upon the steel plate and peered out to see which of the other people she'd invited had belatedly come.

Alexander listened to what his comrades were saying and pursed his lips. People throughout the land knew who he was, which would likely prove beneficial to the cause and harmful to himself. The man deliberated the idea for a good long while before speaking up.

"You want someone to represent us and win over the people-- I can do that. They know me. They've seen me in the tourneys and they've seen me fight alongside their men. They've seen me fight for their home for two years, and they'll see me fight for their home now." The knight raised his voice slightly to be heard by everyone.

"However," he added, "should I take up this responsibility, I need help. Not just the people know my name. The Astren know me too, and because I was nobility..." Alex paused to pointedly glance at Assallya as if to remind her that not all the nobles had forsaken them. "in Boln, it will not be hard for them to find out where I live. If anyone could offer me a place to stay, it would be greatly appreciated."

Celestine, Angrim and her troop of mages marched down the streets of Boln. Citizens quickly dispersed at the sight of the fully equipped mages and mercenary. They all scurried into their holes, hoping that it wasn't them the Astren's were coming for. Celestine payed them no attention, she cared not what the normal citizenry thought of her, being a mage of Astren, she knew she was already hated.

She looked back to the mercenary she requisitioned, she had no idea what he thought of this mess, but he did agree to come with her. If nothing else the promise of money probably swayed him, of course this didn't matter to Celestine, it would be wise for her to get on the mercenary captain's good side and she was sure he would be an invaluable asset to her cause.

"This is the place." Celestine gestured to the brothel in front of her. "To think they would choose such a lowly place to organize their pitiful rebellion, I hate to say this, but I might actually enjoy this..." She waved over one of her mages. "You there, knock on their door for me." As the mage went to knock on the door Celestine grabbed for her bow, the metal strings and limbs crackling with sparks and electricity. Calmly she grabbed a metal arrow from her quiver and nocked the arrow in place. She then focused her magical energy so she could handle the immense draw weight of the bow, she slowed her breathing as she waited for someone to answer the door.

Celestine couldn't exactly tell, but what she guessed was a women opened a small metal slit in the door. Celestine cracked a small smile underneath her helmet as she loosed the arrow. The sound the arrow made was that of thunder; lightning released all around Celestine, making a miniature explosion around her. The arrow flew with a streak of lightning, coming straight at the woman viewing through the slit. Celestine aimed the arrow at the door itself and not the slit, she knew her destructive power; one little metal door wouldn't be able to stop it.

She approached the now ruined door and entered the brothel, the smoke from the bowshot obscuring her vision for a moment. Finally the smoke cleared enough to see who was gathered at the rebel's meeting. The mages she brought with her followed somewhat eagerly, inspired by their superiors magic. Celestine mocked a bow. "Hello citizens of Boln, I have come on behalf of the great Prince of Astren, Baldwin III. Sadly, because of this I cannot make your acquaintance for long..." She scanned the room for the one the prince had told her about, and laid eyes on a lad wearing metal plate with a stallion on his chest. "Ah, so you must be The Colt. No idea what you've done to bother the Prince so much." She grabbed an arrow from her quiver and pointed it at the knight. "But... He's instructed me to kill you."

The beautiful elven dancer was standing on the tips of the toes of her bare feet, staring out the slit in the door. She only had time for her kohl lined, azure eyes to widen before the armoured woman outside the door loosed her bow. An arrow, bristling with electrical energy blasted the door and carried on through. The arrow passed through the exploding door striking Assallya between the breasts. Electricity coursed through her as she flew, stopping her heart with a lethal jolt. She was dead- instantly. The arrow's force picked her body up, her silken ensconced arms and legs flailing behind her as she was carried through the air and across the room.

Her corpse slammed hard into the far wall, the arrow piercing through her chest and into the surface. She hung there, pinned like a butterfly in a display case. Residual electricity flowed from the metal arrow through her, causing her dead body to shudder and convulse.

Angrim swiftly follows up behind Celestine as she enters the brothel's destroyed door frame. He emerges from the clouds of dust and smoke where the door once stood. He steps past the gaggle of mages and approaches Celestine as she finishes up her speech, and unsheathes and brandishes his roughly 4-foot bastard sword. The edge of the blade gleams through the smoky room in stark contrast with his armor, which seemed hopelessly dull in comparison.
He observes the situation through the slats of his helmet, taking stock of every possible combatant in the room, should one of them try to slip a knife through his armor or into Celestine's chest as she spoke. He'd been in situations like this before, and more than a few of them ended in an indistinguishable bloody mess.
He was not quite sure of the object of the mission, having just arrived in the city and only knowing of "squashing some bugs". All he knew to do was defend the person behind the paycheck. He stays silent for the moment being, deciding to let Celestine handle the sardonic speeches.
Once he sees her identify the target, some "Colt", he turns to face him as well, tightening his grip on the leather bound hilt of his leering steel sword.

Everyone there knew this could be a possibility.

A hint that something could be going wrong became apparent to Amirah first when there was a knock on the door. As far as she could remember Assallya hadn’t mentioned any late arrivals and it seemed suspicious to the orc woman that someone would be knocking on the brothel when it was clearly closed. Then again considering the clientele of the establishment it could be some rowdy or desperate patron looking for some relief.

No such luck, in an instant the leader of their upstart rebellion had been sent flying from an explosion on the door and impaled on a wall with an arrow. Amirah could not tell for sure if the elf was dead already but such an outcome seemed likely judging by the apparent fatal blow.

With their leadership struck down so quickly Amirah fell back on pure instinct. She was not a healer and could do nothing for Assallya, she was not a leader herself and thus could not rally her companions. She was, however, a fighter and she intended to do what she was so very good at doing.

As Astren mages and other soldiers poured into the brothel, others may have been compelled to flee. Amirah on the other hand stood from her lotus position. The mountain of a woman rose to her full height in one motion using leg strength alone without having to put her hands on the ground. For such a giant her motions were as fluid as water and as soon as she was on her feet she was immediately on a fighting stance right behind the table where they were all sitting around. Feet apart, left leg leading and right heel firmly digging on the ground, the monk threw both hands forward with open palms.

It wasn’t magic but it would certainly feel like it to the Astren forces. An ear shattering draconic roar shook the entirety of the building breaking glass and cracking stone with a powerful sound blast. The strongest Astren soldiers would just feel their ear drums shattering and noses bleeding as the chi blast hit them full on. Those of weaker will power however would feel what most mortals feel when forced to take on a dragon roar to the face: be paralyzed with fear.

Regardless of the amount of enemy soldiers she paralyzed, Amirah intended to charge them afterwards. With no leader the only sensible strategy that came to the monk’s mind was fight to the death.