Selibas
Hero
The Little Wolf
My Word is Iron.
Posts: 455
Etruria Fame: -1
Bern Fame: 4
Illia Fame: -3
Profession: Khan
Guild: Tribe of Sacae
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Bushido
Jun 24, 2013 0:46:33 GMT -6
Post by Selibas on Jun 24, 2013 0:46:33 GMT -6
So I've just finished watching Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samurai. It's absolutely astounding, and has several works based off of it. Samurai 7, Magnificent Seven (also considered a master piece, haven't seen it, couldn't tell you), and Bug's Life are a few popular ones. The basic story is a village needs protection from bandits, so they send a few villagers into town to hire a few samurai using rice. I thought it would be really cool if we did something like it. Elibe's wars have ended, and most of our characters have taken to working/fighting for money or food. Then we could RP the seven of them getting recruited in for some small town, then you know defending it. If anyone's interested PM me.
The title's Bushido because that's Japanese for Warrior's Way.
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Selibas
Hero
The Little Wolf
My Word is Iron.
Posts: 455
Etruria Fame: -1
Bern Fame: 4
Illia Fame: -3
Profession: Khan
Guild: Tribe of Sacae
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Bushido
Jun 27, 2016 19:53:53 GMT -6
Post by Selibas on Jun 27, 2016 19:53:53 GMT -6
Almost three years later, I made the mistake of watching the movie again, and basically had the same reaction this time around, so I'm gonna put this out there again. Six people, wanna join in the fun? Totally non-canon, so your characters can have kickin' deaths that don't affect the site at all!
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Bushido
Jun 27, 2016 23:31:04 GMT -6
via mobile
Post by Donovan on Jun 27, 2016 23:31:04 GMT -6
In.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Bushido
Jun 29, 2016 2:24:07 GMT -6
Post by Deleted on Jun 29, 2016 2:24:07 GMT -6
Sure, why not?
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Bushido
Jun 29, 2016 6:52:25 GMT -6
Post by Duma on Jun 29, 2016 6:52:25 GMT -6
I'm in.
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Selibas
Hero
The Little Wolf
My Word is Iron.
Posts: 455
Etruria Fame: -1
Bern Fame: 4
Illia Fame: -3
Profession: Khan
Guild: Tribe of Sacae
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Bushido
Jun 29, 2016 15:24:23 GMT -6
Post by Selibas on Jun 29, 2016 15:24:23 GMT -6
That's six folks, one more or Perun gets the spot. (PMs and Skype you see)
I'll write up some background in an hour or two.
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Selibas
Hero
The Little Wolf
My Word is Iron.
Posts: 455
Etruria Fame: -1
Bern Fame: 4
Illia Fame: -3
Profession: Khan
Guild: Tribe of Sacae
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Bushido
Jun 29, 2016 20:03:25 GMT -6
Post by Selibas on Jun 29, 2016 20:03:25 GMT -6
(Heads up, this is 10000000% to explain why our characters are disgraced and in need of some work. Plus why some stuff wouldn't happen in this scenario.)
Etruria has won. The empire of Elimine swept across the continent like a plague and extinguished the fires of dissent in the name of the prophet. Any and all people who could possibly have a connection to a force which stood in opposition to the empire are now hunted, with massive rewards for anyone who turns them in, causing nearly all warriors who ever drew an ounce of Etrurian blood to go into hiding, or on the run. There are few other laws that span the entire landmass, namely: to stand in opposition of the prophet is death, to even own a weapon in an area patrolled by the Etrurian army is death, to own a war mount (wyvern, griffon, pegasus, horse that's patricularly large) is death, and that if you are accused of being against the faith in any way, and cannot prove it, you will be arrested and interrogated by the inquisition.
Towns and much of the country side is left without protection as they do not interest the watchful eyes of the Etrurian Empire, who are far too busy squashing monster infestations and making it clear that any rebellion will immediately be put down. Perhaps one day down the line the theocracy may be deposed, but for now, survival is all the people of Elibe can hope for, and perhaps pray in the interest of.
Bandits are unchecked, mercenaries are unable to band together, and warriors who have no desire to enlist or lose their armaments are constantly on the move seeking a way to sustain their body and their pride. It is a grim time in Elibe, with no hope visible for the people who inhabit it, but the comfort that can be found in the arms of one another. If the other is allowed to live that is.
(Our characters can be themselves or near versions of themselves, if you want them to have an extra skill, or something, cool. Your characters don't have to know each other, or can know each other despite never meeting in character if you want. No mounts, that could create an advantage for our characters. The bandits are gonna be a very real threat.)
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Selibas
Hero
The Little Wolf
My Word is Iron.
Posts: 455
Etruria Fame: -1
Bern Fame: 4
Illia Fame: -3
Profession: Khan
Guild: Tribe of Sacae
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Bushido
Jul 2, 2016 21:16:41 GMT -6
Post by Selibas on Jul 2, 2016 21:16:41 GMT -6
It was a small farming willage in what had once been Khathelet in Lycia, but was now called some Etrurian Principality or other. The village was small, but they were able to grow enough wheat to set it aside every year and save it for a rainy day. They also grew beets, but those were rarely used as a food source, mainly for turning into jams or something of the sort. Anything else that they had need of they would trade for in a nearby town that was much larger than their own village. It was a simple life, but their small size kept them out from under the watchful eye of the Etrurian guard. However, that freedom came with a price.
They came hard like the wind, forty men on horses, something that had seemed impossible since the end of the war. They were bandits, given free roam over the land as long as they stayed away from the larger areas. The villagers weren't able to put up any fight as the bandits came, and demanded half the grain in the entire silo, claiming they would soon return for more. They also took many of the villager's clothes, and wives. Terrified, the common people were meek and did not rebel. However, when the bandits had fled, the village council gathered to try and decide what to do.
There were many ideas passed around, some wanted to simply up and move, but others were disgusted by the idea. This was land that had been owned by the families of the villagers and their families for generations, and they would not abandon it out of fear. Others wanted to go to the Etrurians, but that equally reviled the council. The freedom given up would be too much for the protection, and they would trade one form of oppression for another. There was of course, the idea to give up, and to give the bandits what they asked for. The oldest councilor, an old woman stood at that, and asked how long it would be before the Bandits demanded it all, and that then there would be no way to feed any of their families.
When asked if she had a solution, she simply said that they would need Warriors. That there would surely be some warriors in hiding, passing through the town, and that they should go and get four or so, offering to feed them as long as they protected the village. Half the council agreed, the other half did not, but after an hour of debate, the dissenters relented. Three men were picked to travel into town, and find the warriors that would be willing to accept the job.
The first three days went horribly for the villagers, the only warrior they met told them that they offered her a suicide mission, and refused. The villagers had agreed to eat only their beets, and save the wheat to give any warriors they could possibly recruit. They weren't finding any however. One day, the three men, Arnold, Laurence, and Charles were making their way through the main road of town when Charles broke down and fell to his knees. He yelled about how their mission was pointless, and that they should just give in to the bandits. Arnold and Laurence, whose wife had been taken and who had a pair of children respectively, told him that that wasn't an option, and tried their hardest to lift him off the ground. It took them three whole minutes to coax him up, and only then did they move again. They did not walk long before they came across a massive group of townspeople, looking at a group of trees. Arnold forced his way through, and finally saw what they were looking at, it was an animal that looked completely unfamiliar, probably brought over by some aristocrat from Vinland, with it's leg trapped under a slim tree. It clawed against the thing viciously, but couldn't manage to move the thing off of its hind quarter.
The villagers seemed to alternate between watching it, and an incredibly short man with a massive green beard and mop of matching hair that reached his shoulders. He had a large war-hammer hanging on his back, and a single sword on his hip, however, he was in the process of taking both off his person, then immediately stripped his jacket from his shoulders. Without a word, he stepped forward.
Walking forward, he calmly approached the tree. The beast stopped moving as he neared it, and the warrior didn't give the beast a second look. He bent down, and lifted the tree with a great strain to his legs. The thing was almost instantly out from under the trunk, and looked as if it might lunge at the man. Instead, it sprinted away from him and the townspeople, and headed into the wild. Not speaking, the short man turned and walked back towards his belongings, revealing a pair of fierce gray eyes with flecks of yellow dotting them. He quickly put his jacket back on, and re-armed himself. Then he simply began walking away from the assembled mass. Laurence sprinted after him, and hurriedly tried to explain what was happening, and convinced the man to return to the inn with them to hear them out.
"Four won't be enough. You said that there's a forest to the south and a river to your west?" Arnold quickly said, "Yes, yes, that's right!" The man stroked his beard. "Hmm, you'd need to create barricades by using the trees, though the river could serve as a natural barrier. In order to defend it, you villagers would need to be willing to fight, and besides them you'd need... Seven fighters." The villagers looked at each other, then down at their feet. "We have the bread and wheat for the task, but we were only meant to hire four. I suppose six more won't be too hard."
"Six more? I didn't say I'd do it!" The short man seemed to spit at the villagers, and for the first time they noticed how thick his chest and shoulders were. "Please we'll feed you every day!" "And we'll make sure you have the nicest place to stay in the whole village!" Arnold and Laurence continued to try and persuade the man, but he seemed indifferent. Finally, Charles spoke. "Please. We are desperate. We need your help to defend our sick, our young, our old. These are our people, and our home. Have you never felt the need to defend something larger than yourself?"
The man looked like he could kill the three in a second with the look he gave them. However, his face softened, and he asked, "Free wheat, does that mean free whiskey?" Laurence nodded furiously. "Then you've got your first warrior. You can call me Selibas Sa-" he trailed off. "I'm Selibas."
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Bushido
Jul 3, 2016 22:11:41 GMT -6
Post by Duma on Jul 3, 2016 22:11:41 GMT -6
Ooc- Alternate Reality Duma
A man walked down a dirt path to parts unknown. His story was one full of pain and woe. This man was once a former general of the Etrurian army. A man who's name once carried respect among the devotees of the saint and her prophet. A name that brought death by the sword to those who dared to defy the Saint and her people. But, now it is a name that the worshippers curse. He was a wanted man, an enemy of Eliminism, and a traitor to the army. He was forced to abandon his birth name and adopted a new one. He was Duma. He was a fiting representation of the demon god of heathenish folklore.
Duma was betrayed by his company, brought to trial for a crime he did not commit, and forced to watch as his family was executed in order to set an His face scarred scarred with a scared blade. He was to be executed along with them had not the Saceans attacked. He freed himself in the confusion, stole his sword, and fled the land. He wandered the land as a broken man in peasant garb. Garb he was forced to steal off of a corpse. His long hair was cut short. This was to disguise his appearance from those who sought him. It was also symbolic of death. The death of the man Duma once was. His hair and parts of his face were hidden away with a straw hat. His scars, his sword at his hip, and his skill with it were the only things that remained of his old life.
And so this broken man continued to walk on a dirt path. He assumed the army would not care for parts so far away from the cities. Despite what had happened, he believed that Elimine had spared him. He was alive. And while these hardships would have driven a lesser man to suicide, he persisted. He wanted to find a new life for himself among these tiny rual villages.
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Bushido
Jul 10, 2016 19:05:19 GMT -6
Post by Donovan on Jul 10, 2016 19:05:19 GMT -6
On the outskirts of a small town in the feral and unprotected territory that was once Khathleet stood a two story building made of sturdy stone. Of course there were many people who preferred to live in dangerous lands such as these. After all, those who protected the more populated areas from bandits were often more dangerous than those who pillaged and murdered in the name of survival. This sturdy stone building was a simple design. A smattering of sleeping quarters, a decently spacious sitting room with a nice kitchen in the back. In essence, The Windblown Inn was a place weary travelers could rest for the night before moving on to greener pastures.
It was a quiet place, with few customers and fewer laughs. Perhaps if there had been a storyteller, there would have been more of a crowd. Perhaps if there had been a jester there would have been more humor. Perhaps if there had been music - but no. Of course there was no music.
Behind the bar stood the owner of the Windblown. His name was Ryker. His hair was nearly all silver, with dashes of black - holdouts from another lifetime. Had he stood taller, one might have noticed how truly imposing a figure he could strike. But he was clearly nothing more than a barman, younger perhaps than people would generally think, but certainly not anyone to fear - not really anyone to pay heed to at all, unless you were wanting to get a drink. Ryker was polishing glasses so utterly clean that one might question whether they had ever been used. In the corner a handful of men had entered the nearly empty inn. If one had a particularly perceptive nature, they might have noticed the innkeeper's dull green eyes flash to a wild emerald with recognition for a hairs breath of a second.
The innkeeper moved swiftly, his face a mask, pleasant and agreeable. "Hello, gentleman, what can I get you four today?" After a quick round of orders, he bustled back to the bar and began to pull their drinks. If you've never known a bartender then you wouldn't be aware of the unusual skills that they possess. For example, innkeeper's are well regarded by diplomats and spies alike as being the singularly greatest eavesdroppers in Elibe. Of course no self respecting spy would ever admit to such an occupation and no politician has ever had enough self respect to admit when someone is superior to them at anything.
What Ryker heard did not surprise him. Bandits raided innocent farmers near constantly. They would likely either join the bandits themselves or fall to their blades. What caught his well attuned ears was the name. "Selibas." A name everyone in Elibe knew. A name that this innkeeper knew better than most. It was a name that brought danger and the very unwanted eye of the inquisition.
The innkeeper felt a peculiar draw. A yearning he hadn't felt for years. To a thrice locked chest hidden beneath a loose stone in the basement's wall. To a blade who he hadn't held since her death so many years ago. To a name he had long since shed and a life he had long ago abandoned.
Ryker shook his head and brought over their drinks, freeing his thoughts from old stories and silver tongued rogues. There was a time for heroes. That time had passed long, long ago.
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Bushido
Jul 10, 2016 22:03:24 GMT -6
Post by Guinevere von Altenburg on Jul 10, 2016 22:03:24 GMT -6
The former soldier sat in the corner of some Inn in some town. Her lance rested on the wall next to her and she mindlessly swirled her drink around. She took a small sip of it, though her mind was far away. She was thinking of days gone by, before Etruria had won the war. Happier times. Back when the most she had to worry about was whether or not she liked being called Guinevere the Gorgeous.
Things had gone down hill since the end of the war. Far down hill. Her parents had been part of an attempt to start a civil war within Etruria and they paid for it with their lives. Gwen herself had transformed from a soldier to a freedom fighter. She helped lead the resistance against Etruria with two other fighters. They kept up the fight as long as they could, but eventually Guinevere was the only leader standing. She tried to keep fighting the good fight, but over time those who fought with her either fell or fled. Not that she blamed them. She would fight til the end, as she had nothing left. But some of them had families.
And so she fought on. Obviously, she couldn't fight an entire army by herself. But she was skilled enough to take down a small squad of soldiers every now and again. Or fend of bandits raiding a town, as seemed to be the case here. Well, from what she had overheard the small group nearby talking about. It wasn't much, but it hurt Etruria. Even if it was in a small way, she was chipping away at them. All she needed was to luck upon someone high ranking and then things would really start to get interesting.
Until then, she would finish her drink. Maybe she'd help this town out like she had others in the past. It sounded like they were even establishing some sort of group to take these bandits on. That would be a nice change of pace. It had been close to a year since she had fought with anyone else by her side. But she was fine with it, because she was never alone. Her two fellow rebellion leaders were always with her and those she fought knew it as well. Her weapon and armor made sure of that. The lance of Rayl Torien. The armor of Richter Abend. You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who didn't recognize them. They may not at first, but they always did in the end.
And while Guinevere the Gorgeous might still exist somewhere under that black armor, the one wielding the lance was a different woman all together. She was Guinevere the Vengeful. And she would have her revenge, so Etruria best be on their guard. Because she was coming for them.
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Selibas
Hero
The Little Wolf
My Word is Iron.
Posts: 455
Etruria Fame: -1
Bern Fame: 4
Illia Fame: -3
Profession: Khan
Guild: Tribe of Sacae
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Selibas
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Bushido
Aug 20, 2016 18:41:00 GMT -6
Post by Selibas on Aug 20, 2016 18:41:00 GMT -6
Running a hand through his thick green hair, Selibas looked down at his drink. It was free, that was a nice touch. Six other fighters, that would be difficult. Being a warrior was an odd combination of openness and caution. He wore his hammer on his back, and his past on his hip, but he didn't really walk around screaming his head off about the fact that he was still waging his one man war against Etruria. You could tell a warrior by their walk, if they weren't armed to the teeth. It was just hard to approach anyone, to ask someone you believed to be another fighter and ask them outright. It was an awful idea to walk up to someone and ask them if their very existence was illegal, so recruitment would be difficult. Very difficult.
He drained the rest of his whiskey. "Maybe we'll start tomorrow." Rising, he walked over to the bar, and leaned against it. It was just short enough that he could rest his elbows on it comfortably. Looking down into the drink he said, "Whiskey please." Turning he gave the tavern a quick scan. A few men in a corner looked a bit dangerous but based on their eyes he guessed they were bandits or outright mercenaries, and mercenaries would have asking prices. Wheat was not coin.
Another table had an old man, the way he sat made him look like he might know his way around a fight. Perhaps he'd be useful as a mind moreso than a body. Next to that table was one with five young men. Young men were bold, they had a tendency to feel a safety in numbers and overestimate their abilities. He knew that from personal experience. At another table was a gorgeous blonde woman who didn't do much to hide that she knew her way on a battlefield. Hmm, that one was promising.
However, Selibas turned around, and looked at a sure thing. Or at least close. "Don?"
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Bushido
Aug 20, 2016 19:28:11 GMT -6
Post by Duma on Aug 20, 2016 19:28:11 GMT -6
Duma continued on his way, following the dirt path. They took him towards the flimsy gates of a run down little town. This place had seen better days. Fallen walls, fire damage, broken people, Duma had seen this before. And once in his former life he had caused this same wanton destruction. His troops. His men. They would tear through tiny Sacean villages. Raid them. Kill them. His hand twitched. He needed to cast that memory aside. That general was dead now. He needed to focus. This was his new life. He walked through the shoddy gates out towards the nearest building. Remarkably the pub was still standing. He pushed the doors open, found an empty chair, and took a seat.
He kept his head down so as to hide his face. He didn't want anyone to recognize him. He didn't want anyone to recognize his scars. He prayed that there were no survivors of his raids hiding out here. When asked for his order, the swordsman responded with one word.
"Tea." He kept his gazed fixed on the table. This was not the time for hard drinks. He needed to keep his wits about him. He needed to think about his next move.
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