AceDaCase

*You notice a note posted on a board in the city market.*

We currently have two rooms available.

*Looks away after he realizes the body is none other than Kayle Seek's* "By the gods," He faces completely away from the body, "It can't be." *Regains his composure and turns again towards the body* "Rest in peace, Kayle Seek. I will always remember you as the young diplomat so eager to bring peace." OOC: This doesn't exempt you from paying rent!!! I kid, I kid. ;D *Edit - unacceptable typo

Yeah, you rented a room for a couple of dwarves. You paid pretty well too :D

((I read a sign saying Lords had been listed. Assuming it is a different thread?))

Awesumninja, if you work for me the room will be your payment. You will not make Minas working for me, I will simply waive your rent. Bring me a decent amount of basic building materials, and then you can have a room, and work for the Estate. ((Akeron: http://www.minecraftforum.net/topic/376 ... 71-260811/ ))

((I just spent an hour and a half writing the conclusion to this and I was logged out of the website during the process and lost the entire thing. I will rewrite it when I am less frustrated.))

Incentive for guards to man the towers could include extra pay, or maybe some protected chests and living space under the tower. Just a thought.

((Texture pack is comic book themed. I edit screenshots in photoshop to make them look like paintings on canvas.))

You walk past the public notice board in Alk'hazar, and a colorful piece of canvas catches your eye. A note is pinned to the top: VanRourke Estates currently has rooms available. Flexible pricing is available, including paying in Minas, materials, or miscellaneous work. Located in a quiet part of town past the church, VanRourke Estates has a unique feel that offers both seclusion as well as access to the city life. With fully furnished and customization rooms, few other establishments can offer the same level of comfort. Both the south and west sides of VanRourke Estates offer breath taking bay-side views. Alternatively, The easterly windows offer a view of Oren Architecture at its finest, and the north facing windows showcase Alk'hazar's beatiful forest near the park. In this calm neighborhood our eight rooms are sure to fill quickly. So, do not hesitate, or the rooms of your dreams could belong to another. ~Count VanRourke

((Sorry for double post, but relevant)) Shortly after adding my take on this, several undead appeared at the Northern Gate. Even now, lightning without rain fills the sky. A decision must be made. ~Count VanRourke

Oren stands as a barrier between the rest of Aegis and darkness. A fort may not be necessary, due to the reason previously cited, but may I suggest something else? Yes, of course our armies need to be larger, stronger, more organized and capable of holding back the undead. They key to this is the organization. The ranks of the guard have become too convoluted. There are not enough men to justify the separate branches and rankings. And the average citizen cannot tell a Sergeant from a Head Alchemist Medic Recruiter Lord Archer Ranger. The ranks need to be consistent. Also, morale, as mentioned previously, is key. And not just for the citizens, for the troops as well. Compensation for service to the kingdom is not always proportionate, and sometimes nonexistent. Whether these are simple mistakes in book keeping, or intentional oversights it does not matter, it has the same effect on the men and women protecting Oren. It must be regulated in a more efficient manner. Also, promotions. There must be set standards to achieve a promotion within the armed forces of Oren. One recruit, whose name will not be revealed, has told me that he and other recruits have served long periods of time, through many battles, without even consideration for promotion, or compensation in any way. Whether these accounts are true or untrue, it does not matter. The mere rumor of them causes frustration within the ranks, so it must be dealt with accordingly (proper compensation). So, onto my proposal. We of course cannot allow the undead to storm Alk'hazar. Nor can we let them run through the country side building forts closer and closer to the Nothern Gate. Nor can we build Forts as it supplies them with too many resources for the plunder. I propose a system of small towers along the road. With only a few men (maybe even just two) manning each post. They will patrol between these will fortified positions and relay information back to Oren, should the undead begin to stir. This should solve multiple problems. The peoples of Alk'hazar will not feel so exposed to the ever-growing arm of the undead plague, we will not feed them with excessive resources (if a tower gets sacked they get some cobble), and our men will be able to relay messages more effectively from the Northern Territories to the city of Alk'hazar, as it will be their job. That is all. ~Count VanRourke

((Sorry, posting from phone. There may be typos.)) Part Three - A Fool's Move Rourke often wondered if he would ever leave this place. He knew, though, that today he would attempt his escape. The stagnant air of his underground chamber was nearly painful to breathe. He had begun to talk to himself in recent weeks. He reasoned it was to keep himself sane; that if he didn't talk to himself he would go mad inside his head. So, he sat muttering to himself. "Soon. Yes, soon. The door will open. The meat will drop," his internal clock had developed around his sole source of nourishment. He removed his stone sword from its hiding place and leaned it against the wall behind where the door opened and took his usual place in his corner. Not twenty seconds later a greenish porkchop slapped itself loudly onto the cold floor. He retrieved it and returned to his corner, his back turned, and ate. At least anyone who was watching would think so. He tore the meat into pieces with his teeth and hid them in the crook of the corner. He would be hungry today. After "finishing his meal" he crawled about feigning dizziness. He moaned loudly and collapsed beside the door. The trap door from above, opened and the light tore through the darkness. "What are you waiting for?!" it spat angrily and the Ambassador's two torturer's pushed the door open. His body was partially hidden behind the open door. The two beasts chuckled in ignorant happiness as they readied themselves for their playtime. The one nearest Rourke grabbed his leg to move him to the center of the room. He tucked his small stone sword under his body and let them move him into position. The first whip hit his back, he supressed a yell. The second one escaped him. And the third, and the fourth. "Yes! Good!" cried the voice from above. She was pleasured by the sounds of his suffering. Rourke could see the outline of her shadow right by his head. He laid there as the brute continued to tear open his back with their whips. Her shadow moved away for a moment. This was it. He spun around onto his back to see a whip coming down on him. He took it in the chest. While yelling in agony, he lifted his sword and plopped off the hand that held the whip. The stupid oaf stared at his hand in disbelief as it fell to the floor. By the time it had, the blade was in his gut and out his back. Rourke yelled again, as if being hit by another whip. This was part of his plan. He was inbetween the other creature and the door. He looked at his remaining enemy, and with blood running from both his back and chest he yelled again, replicating the sounds of his torture. Never before had he seen such a large beast so startled, confused, and frightened. He yelled again as he stepped towards the beast. It rose its whip at him, but the Ambassador batted it aside with his sword without a thought. He yelled again this time with a look that could not be described as anything but pure hatred for the beast in front of him. He pad no pity for it as he plunged his crude weapon deep into its organs. He twistted the blade and looked into the thing's eyes as it fell to it's large, knobby knees. Again, he screamed, remembering every lashing he had recieved. The beasted fell onto the floor, breathing faintly. He turned and left it to die. The drow's shadow reappeared in the trapdoor just as he was walking out. "What?!" she cried in horror, "You... YOU FOOL!" He ignored her and walked out of the door into the dimly lit hallway.

Part 3 ~ Genesis Rourke replaced the stone block concealing his hidden chamber. He left the stone sword just beneath it. He looked at his dirtied hands. They had little scrapes over the knuckles and fingers, evidence of his digging. His fingernails were black, from both dirt and being smashed. He returned himself to his favorite corner and looked up at a wooden plank which was nailed to the wall. He had tried to keep the days on this sign, but had long since ran out of room. It was completely full of tally marks, etched with his nails. His right hand quivered involuntarily. His mind began to drift and soon he found himself on the night of his initial capture. ================================================================ He was walking out of the front of Oren, on the way to meet with the Elves. He passed the newly promoted General Crake, as he left the city. "Evening General," The Ambassador greeted. "Ambassador," The General returned. Everything seemed the usual. Banok, his personal assistant, had gone to sleep. High Priest Everard, his house-mate and business partner, was off building a cathedral for some Templars. The Newly-wed King Perea was visiting his wife outside her bread shop. And the First Bank of Oren, Rourke and Everard's latest venture was about to open. He passed a bulletin board just outside of Alk'hazar. 800 Minas for the Ambassador's head! He let out a little chuckle and placed a sign next to it... Is that all I'm worth? Still amused he went along his way, following The King's Road on his way to the Elves'. He hummed a little tune and looked down at his feet as he went. After about ten minutes he heard the rustle of underbrush in the trees to his right not far off the path. "Who's there?" He called into the blackness. A solitary cloud obscured the light of the moon. Some rustling on the other side of the road stole his attention. "As Ambassador to the King, I demand you reveal yourself!" "As you wish," A wry voice replied from the shadows. A lone female drow stepped from the trees. She was wearing long, grey robes that clashed with his stark, white hair. "Stay back," Rourke said pointedly, knowing of the dark elves' deceptive nature, "What do you want?" "Me..? I want many things. None that I expect a male, a human male, would understand." "Do not play games with me, drow," Rourke said, feigning confidence. He knew if the drow wanted him dead, he would be dead. "A pet," She said coldly. "Excuse me?" "I- want- a- pet," she explained like he was a child, "And you seem like fun." "Don't touch me," he began to back away. Large hands clapped onto his shoulders sand held him tightly from behind. He looked up to see a large, stupid-looking creature standing behind him. The Ambassador struggled to free himself. "You look ridiculous. Stop resisting," the drow said with a frown, "The longer we wait out here, the longer I have to wait to play!" "Unhand me!" The left sleeve of his robed ripped slightly as he struggled fruitlessly against the giant brute, "Let go!" The drow burst into a near playful laughter, further infuriating Rourke. She let him struggle for a few more moments before speaking. "Enough," she was no longer amused, "Let's go home." The great lummox lifted the distressed man over its shoulder with ease and he promptly began to shout, "Help! Help me!" He kicked a flailed in futility against the beast's strength. "Oh, shut up you fool!" His dark-skinned enemy snapped, "I grow weary of you." She withdrew a golden colored rod from within the recesses of her robes and shot a bolt of energy out from the tip. The sparkling bolt struck the man square in the back and he fell limp in an instant. ================================================================ He awoke writhing on the floor, involuntarily screaming at the stone walls which surrounded him. The trap door was open and a figure peered down through the blinding light, laughing softly. He sat up, shaking excessively, and looked silently at the one who held his life in her hands. "Awww, done already?" She said with true disappointment, "I was just beginning to enjoy myself." She picked up a bucket full of water and emptied what little contents it had into the chamber. The water splashed onto the disturbed man and quickly soaked into the stone. He flopped himself over onto his belly and tried to suck up as much of the moisture as he could before it was gone. His dried lips scraped the rough cobble in insatiable want for the soothing comfort the water would briefly allow. The trapdoor closed and a muffled chuckle reverberated through.

Part Two ~ A New Hope The two creatures had long since left, and Rourke was left lying on the floor. His one fine, silk garments were no more than loose rags clinging to his body. He pushed himself up from off of the cobble and the rags on the upper half of his body slid off onto the floor. He winced as the scabs on his back, evidence of the lashings from before, cracked open. The warm and steady drip of blood would have been welcoming in this dark, cold environment, had it not been accompanied by the pain. He had grown accustom to many things in his months trapped in the cuboid prison, but the pain was not one of them. Footsteps echoed outside in the corridor. Rourke held his breath, hoping they would pass his door by. They did. He moved towards the corner closest to the door and stuck his fingers between two cobblestone blocks on the floor. He pulled for a few moments and one came loose. This was the only thing that brought him joy in this dank, relentless place. He peered into the hole left by the removed block. It was a zig-zagging shaft that extended about 40 feet down. He descended into the hole and replaced the block above him. The shaft ended in a small square room. It was three blocks square, two blocks high. In one corner a solitary torch burned ceaselessly. Underneath the torch was a shoddily constructed workbench, made from wood found in the foundation of his cell. Rourke drug his tired body over to the table. His creation was almost complete. He wedge the sharpened stone into the small notch on the wooden handle he had been shaping for the past three months. He held it firmly in his hand and pointed it out in front of him. It was crooked, off-balance, and looked as fragile as an icicle, but it was his only chance at freedom. He marveled at his awful craftsmanship. "A fine stone sword." To be continued...

Part 1 ~ Lost, Forgotten, Abandoned. The door on the far side of the room opened momentarily and a piece of raw pork was tossed lazily on the cold, cobblestone floor. The door closed again and footsteps signaled the departure of the unknown sentry that repeated this process day after day. A broken, shell of a man peered out from the shadows in the corner of the cobblestone room. He crawled into reach of the porkchop then returned to his corner devouring it with small, savoring bites. A trap door opened in the ceiling creating a single shaft of light into the room. it burned the man's eyes like a hot fire. He grimaced but said nothing. The shape of a man partially blocked the light, and a youthful, but stern voice spoke in a mocking manner to the man huddled in the corner. "My, my... aren't we hungry today, 'Ambassador.' A hollow cackle echoed throughout the chamber. The Ambassador cringed at the sarcastic use of his once respected position. That was when it began to happen. As with every other time he ate the pork since his arrival in this insidious place. The room began to slowly rotate around the man. "My... my name is Rourke..." his vision doubled. The meat was laced with a vision inducing toxin, but he had to eat it. It was the only way to stay alive. Throughout his months in this horrible dungeon, his captors kept him on the brink of starvation, only supplying him with this pork. The toxin had gone into full effect. He was sprawled out helplessly on the floor, replaying the same scene that had occurred for many months. The door opened and remained as such, as Rourke had no means of moving himself towards it. Two creatures roughly double the size of men came bumbling. They chortled heavily as they raised and lowered their whips and the man writhed on the floor... To be continued...