Mount & Blade RPG

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maddog

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Well most of you should no how to do this but just in case.... basicly we take turns at writing a bit of a story which somehow and somewhere in the story each of our storys start to become one. :wink: :lol:

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Starting as a small boy Richard DragonKurk had a dream of becoming the best knight in the whole of Calradia since an Enemy war group destroyedhis vilage and killed his parents and childhood friends. Now he had his chance he was in the Vaegir Army, Finaly he could start his dream by learning the ways of war!
But due to his anger and not liking to be told what to do he was thrown out after disobaying an order which cost his patrol a battle they could of won.

After being kicked out he was not seen for a very long time, He was thought to be in Private training with a group Mercenarys.
When very unexpectidly he turned up in tavern on the Vaegir Border trying to get people to join his patrol which he would personaly pay for there equipment.

"People! Join me! Help me in my quest to force my way into Enemy territory and extend OUR Empire!" shouted Richard
He wasn't having much luck finding companions.
"Come on People I can change your lives!!! I can change the tieds in this war with your HELP!"
 
but isnt that each telling a whole story? cause this tells bits of a story about your own charicter in which each of our lives come together somehow weather they be companions or enemys.......
 
I think he means an interactive story, one person starts and it's continued by another. Not a series of individual stories.

By all means, go ahead. I'm no writer, but I'd love to read your stuff.
 
Oh Well Nevermind..... worth a try. Worked really well on other forums.......*sigh* Ohhhhhh Well....Bye bye... :cry:
 
John Strange awoke with a start.

Someone in the tavern was yelling - and it wasn't John Strange. Oh, Richard DragonKurk going on again about destiny and adventure and defeating the Swadians once and for all. Well, thought John Strange, that's all very well and good for DragonKurk. He's gotten better equipped since the last time I saw him, now he has a good sword, a Khergit bow, and hardened leather armor. I wonder, though, what happened to the lads who joined him so eagerly last week? Strange lifted the mug of Calradian ale to his mouth and drank down the last of it. He rose to his feet, a bit unsteadily before straightening himself up and looking at Dragonkurk.

"Sure, sure. What's the pay? And who you got with you? I hear the Dark Knights are on the prowl again and I don't want to find myself with a bunch of peasants and refugee women at my side."

John Strange looked at DragonKurk who seemed taken aback at being questioned about money and troops. He wasn't used to answering questions and the strangely ill-tempered tavern dweller with the odd remarks and ideas wasn't his sort of soldier at all.

"Well," Strange asked, "Tell us what's innit for us."
 
And so while the rowdy young Richard was trying to raise a small group of mercenaries in the Vaegir tavern no one noticed the drunk merchant who called himself Porthos as he staggered off into the damp, moonless night. And within hours Porthos who was really a Sergeant at-arms for a nearby Swadian duke was gathering his knights and thinking about how he would dash the hopes of that poor boy, and any desperado foolish enough to join him.
 
Out in the fields, a young farmer tends to his crops, unaware that all he worked for would soon be gone.

'Mi'lords,' he bowed as a party of armed men rode past. They were led by a boy not much older than himself. The men looked weary, horses ragged, but care was evident in the oiled armour and gleaming weapons that the men bore.

Suddenly, a shrill whistle broke through the sounds of daily life, it was immediately followed by answering shouts and the thunder of approaching horses. The farmer found himself standing the in midst of the party while raiders thundered towards his little farm.

He did not have time to shout, not even to turn before he was struck by a crossbow bolt. 'It didn't hurt,' he thought to himself, 'so much blood..'
 
Kethni was weary. He was sick and tired of the damned war between the Swadians and the Vaegirs. He was glad he lived in Zendar, where there are no loyalties to overlords. He was thinking about how glad he would be to get home when he stumbled over the corpse of a farmer with a bolt in his head.

He felt the corpse and found that it was as cold as the air, and also stank faintly. The farmer must have been dead for at least a day. He knew there wasn't much of a chance, but he checked the farmer's belt pouch anyways. Jackpot. He found 3 Denars in the pouch.

"Damn," he said to himself, "That's a lot of Denars for a peasant."

He put the gold in his pouch and strode away, seeing a pair of children looking at him from the ramshackle farmer's hut. Upon seeing the children's plaintive stare at his belt pouch he grimaced and drew his dagger from his belt. It was going to be a loud night.

The next morning he took one last look around the totally ransacked hut and muttered to himself. The pickings were getting pretty slim, and he knew that he might have to take up a trader's life again, unless the war picked up some more. He hated to do it, but he would have to try to encourage the war.

Luckily his expert tracking skills and his knowledge of Al' Jabraa's math skills he learned from the scholar before killing him let him cause many clashes of the Vaegirs and Swadians by being a scout for both sides and tipping war parties off. It was a dirty job, but it had to be done.
 
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