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Roleplaying / Re: Masalu RP: Sumerian Cultist in Dwilight (Lovecraftian BM Shenanigans)
« on: May 05, 2020, 02:41:52 AM »
Accidentally joined Westgard today. Shenanigans ensue.
"Roleplay from Masalu Auru'in Player experience level: mentor Player play preference: rp
Message sent to all nobles of Westgard (23 recipients) - just in
Lost and confused after many years of slumber, a clever merchant spots Masalu and hatches a genius plan. What commission might he weasel - ahem- earn from pandering the indelible Madstone Manor to some upstart fresh-off-the-boat noble? With hands clasped and lips freshly licked to form paled-toothed grin, perhaps his moment of glory has finally come?
"Fair Lord, might you be that recently-arrived noble in need of an estate? On behalf of the realm, it would be my greatest pleasure to guide you toward your new home. I'll make the arrangements for your things and get you set-up, for only a modest fee of course. Welcome, welcome, welcome! Come, come with me!"
Sheer terror writ large across his face, Death-Knight Masalu blinks as his knuckles turn white upon both hilts. Fast-talkers. Masalu has never liked them. Doesn't help that he can barely understand them. While his speech impediment and accent prevent speech far more than understanding, some people are simply insufferable to behold.
"Ahh... Ma... Masalu have... Yes. Masalu make search for boat, make travel for Nebelani Port for finding estate. Masalu make search for meet friend of D'harani."
Devious does the smile spread atop that quivering silver tongue so eager to disabuse this strange noble of such unprofitable notions. D'hara, Westgard, this oaf can barely articulate a sentence. Chances are he can't read a map either!
"With respect, good sir, surely you could use some rest from your lengthy journey? You look downright exhausted! The nobles of the realm would sure be offended were you to refuse their kind offer. You wouldn't wish to disrespect your fellow nobles, would you? Please, be a good man and come with me? You'll find fresh linens, a soft bed, plentiful wine, and much more at your glorious new estate at Ma- err, Radstone Manor! Its simply delightful, I promise you won't be disappointed. Only the best for a noble of your stature, yes?"
Almond eyes squint in further confusion. Few of what is said can be understood, mostly because of the rising pitch and odd accent employed by the strange man. Rest... Nobles... Offended... Good... Bed... Wine. Rad?
"What is... Rad? Masalu no understanding word. Masalu like wine... Bed, soft? Much niceness... Much tiredness..."
Eyebrows rise and eyes glow as the merchant spins yet another clever lie. Anything to make a sale, or so merchants ever cite.
"Ahh, yes. Radstone Manor! Its all the rage these days, I hear. Rad, as in AMAZING, one of those fancy new terms of the noble youth. Come, come, let me show you the way!"
At this point Masalu gives in. Though hunger and exhaustion have long-since set, his stubborn ability to weather the chaos of war does not stretch to spiritual erosion by sheer annoyance.
Muttering a prayer in Sumerian, the D'haran noble finds himself caught in the merchant's web. Unable to read, he later scribbles a squiggle or two on the proper documents and finds himself the proud owner of Madstone Manor.
He takes a a quick nap after the annoying man finally leaves, only to be awoken by a servant girl bringing him fresh wine. Only when she nervously offers welcome to the realm of Westgard does Masalu realize his critical error.
"No... D'harani? No00... No. NO!"
In a fit of animalistic rage, Masalu flees Madstone manor - calloused feet smacking across the paving stones as he charges southward. By the times he notices, Masalu is hopelessly lost once again.
...Except this time he's utterly, irrevocably, stark-ass naked.
As a single tear slithers shyly down his cheek he sit down cross-legged in the middle of the road near some sort of city gate.
"Masalu want go home..."
"Roleplay from Masalu Auru'in Player experience level: mentor Player play preference: rp
Message sent to all nobles of Westgard (23 recipients) - just in
Lost and confused after many years of slumber, a clever merchant spots Masalu and hatches a genius plan. What commission might he weasel - ahem- earn from pandering the indelible Madstone Manor to some upstart fresh-off-the-boat noble? With hands clasped and lips freshly licked to form paled-toothed grin, perhaps his moment of glory has finally come?
"Fair Lord, might you be that recently-arrived noble in need of an estate? On behalf of the realm, it would be my greatest pleasure to guide you toward your new home. I'll make the arrangements for your things and get you set-up, for only a modest fee of course. Welcome, welcome, welcome! Come, come with me!"
Sheer terror writ large across his face, Death-Knight Masalu blinks as his knuckles turn white upon both hilts. Fast-talkers. Masalu has never liked them. Doesn't help that he can barely understand them. While his speech impediment and accent prevent speech far more than understanding, some people are simply insufferable to behold.
"Ahh... Ma... Masalu have... Yes. Masalu make search for boat, make travel for Nebelani Port for finding estate. Masalu make search for meet friend of D'harani."
Devious does the smile spread atop that quivering silver tongue so eager to disabuse this strange noble of such unprofitable notions. D'hara, Westgard, this oaf can barely articulate a sentence. Chances are he can't read a map either!
"With respect, good sir, surely you could use some rest from your lengthy journey? You look downright exhausted! The nobles of the realm would sure be offended were you to refuse their kind offer. You wouldn't wish to disrespect your fellow nobles, would you? Please, be a good man and come with me? You'll find fresh linens, a soft bed, plentiful wine, and much more at your glorious new estate at Ma- err, Radstone Manor! Its simply delightful, I promise you won't be disappointed. Only the best for a noble of your stature, yes?"
Almond eyes squint in further confusion. Few of what is said can be understood, mostly because of the rising pitch and odd accent employed by the strange man. Rest... Nobles... Offended... Good... Bed... Wine. Rad?
"What is... Rad? Masalu no understanding word. Masalu like wine... Bed, soft? Much niceness... Much tiredness..."
Eyebrows rise and eyes glow as the merchant spins yet another clever lie. Anything to make a sale, or so merchants ever cite.
"Ahh, yes. Radstone Manor! Its all the rage these days, I hear. Rad, as in AMAZING, one of those fancy new terms of the noble youth. Come, come, let me show you the way!"
At this point Masalu gives in. Though hunger and exhaustion have long-since set, his stubborn ability to weather the chaos of war does not stretch to spiritual erosion by sheer annoyance.
Muttering a prayer in Sumerian, the D'haran noble finds himself caught in the merchant's web. Unable to read, he later scribbles a squiggle or two on the proper documents and finds himself the proud owner of Madstone Manor.
He takes a a quick nap after the annoying man finally leaves, only to be awoken by a servant girl bringing him fresh wine. Only when she nervously offers welcome to the realm of Westgard does Masalu realize his critical error.
"No... D'harani? No00... No. NO!"
In a fit of animalistic rage, Masalu flees Madstone manor - calloused feet smacking across the paving stones as he charges southward. By the times he notices, Masalu is hopelessly lost once again.
...Except this time he's utterly, irrevocably, stark-ass naked.
As a single tear slithers shyly down his cheek he sit down cross-legged in the middle of the road near some sort of city gate.
"Masalu want go home..."
Sigrid's back, for the record. My laptop had shat out and I never quite had the time to come back until recently. Perhaps Hrafn could make a comeback as well, whether noble or advy? I think I'm in... Eponllyn. Yeah, that one.
A few of those are good to have, but at least those types have an excuse - and can be balanced by less-aggressive personalities.
When cleaning house, one is likely to step on a few toes.