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Found 13 results

  1. A TAVERN’S PROTECTION 10th of Sun’s Smile, Year 58 SA Victory has indeed been claimed today, as forces of the Tripartite Alliance sieged Southbridge and came out victorious. As the Grand Kingdom of Urguan comes to reign over its new lands, a lonely tavern run by a devoted Imperial is left to take his hard work elsewhere at the threats of eviction and the demolition of his life’s savings. Once again, the Ferrymen stand for the common people. With this in mind, I proclaim that Destiny's Tavern is under the Ferrymen’s protection. The Ferrymen will stand guard and remove any who put disrespect on the tavern owner's hard work. If Urguan attempts to forcefully evict the tavern owner from his hard-earned lands, they will have to fight us for it. Signed, Banjo, The Captain of the Ferrymen, Savior of the Common and Free People, Pillager of Elvenesse, Liberator of Man, The Bringer of Equality, Capturer of the Bastion, Defeater of Racism, Debearder of Grand Kings, Sailor of the Seas, 2x Mr. Almaris, Emperor of the Roads, Lord of Shipwreck Keep, Occupier of New Providence, 40 Star General, The Greater Lobster Fisherman, Premortem Saint of Epic Ballads.
  2. TO CATCH A CRAWFISH 14th of the First Seed, Year 58 of SA “Too focused on the cheese, they fell for the gate!” - Django https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4UqMyldS7Q The story behind this raid is quite simple, a tale to be told for ages. A small, but strong, force of 1,100 Ferrymen sneaked their way into the heart of New Providence. At the back of the city there was a little separated neighborhood by gate, and this is where the infamous baiter Django sat patiently, waiting for hours until he could finally trap the Imperials. The rest of the Ferrymen forces, led by Captain Banjo, scaled the walls and located the enemy rally. At the mere sight of the Ferrymen, General Erik var Ruthern blindly ordered his soldiers to charge! As though they were rats focused on cheese within a trap, they fell for the gates as they chased the Ferrymen back to the small town where Django closed the gates on a sizable portion of their army. Among these fallen men who drunkenly charged into the trap was their General, Erik. Powerless before the gates, the Orenians were in horror at the sight of their brothers-in-arms being slain at the device of their very own main strategy - gate trapping. As they fled, the Ferrymen pursued and struck down the entirety of the Imperial army stationed within the capital. The Ferrymen baited and killed the entirety of the Imperial army. They fought with wits and in their natural prowess and once again proved, small wins against big. 2,300 of the 2,400 Imperials were killed. 1,100 of the 1,100 Ferrymen survived. Signed, Banjo, The Captain of the Ferrymen, Savior of the Common and Free People, Pillager of Elvenesse, Liberator of Man, The Bringer of Equality, Capturer of the Bastion, Defeater of Racism, Debearder of Grand Kings, Sailor of the Seas, 2x Mr. Almaris, Emperor of the Roads, Lord of Shipwreck Keep, Occupier of New Providence, 40 Star General, The Greater Lobster Fisherman, Premortem Saint of Epic Ballads.
  3. RECAPTURE OF THE BASTION 15th of Snow Maiden, Year 57 SA “Jesus Pablo is ballin’ out on Ferrymas” - Banjo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CduA0TULnow 1,200 Tripartite forces composed of Ferrymen and Irehearts marched on the roads towards the heart of the Imperial Capital, New Providence, to deal a devastating blow to Imperial forces. Under the command of Captain Banjo and Commander Bakir Ireheart, the small band bandited the roads of Oren until they approached the bridge, all that stood in their way of entering the city was a 1,500 force o’ wig-wearing lobsters. One could say you could hear the rattle of their metal-bucket hats as they quivered in fear at the sight of the notorious Ferrymen. The battle first started at the foot of the bridge, where both sides exchanged arrowfire. Seeing as this exchange of volleys led to a stalemate, the Ferrymen tactically led a maneuver around the bridge, flanking the Orenian forces as they were caught in utter dumbfounded surprise. Their little lasting bravery was soon replaced by cowardice as they routed back to the security of their gates- or so they thought. They stubbornly attempted to push out of their gates, but they were met with dwarven steel and Ferrymen prowess as their men were slaughtered like dogs. The Imperials were very wrong to think they were safe behind their walls and gates. A small detachment of Ferrymen consisting of Jesus Pablo, Diome Indoren, Banjo, and Mika managed to breach past their iron doors and began to take the entire force on their own. There within the gates, Jesus Pablo showed his ferociousness and prowess on the battlefield as he single handedly charged in a moment of bloodlust into a group of Orenians. His savage charge proved useful as it opened the opportunity for the rest of the Ferrymen to push through the gates and into the hearth of the city. 1,100 Imperials dead. Once more the bastion and city fell to the hands of the Ferrymen. Signed, Banjo, The Captain of the Ferrymen, Savior of the Common and Free People, Pillager of Elvenesse, Liberator of Man, The Bringer of Equality, Capturer of the Bastion, Defeater of Racism, Debearder of Grand Kings, Sailor of the Seas, 2x Mr. Almaris, Emperor of the Roads, Heir to Shipman Keep. Bakir Ireheart, Clan Father of the Irehearts, Legion Commander, King’s Hand
  4. THE CITY STATE OF OREN AND ITS SURROUNDING MANORS Saint James Bleeds THE BATTLE OF NEW PROVIDENCE BRIDGE Twenty-thousand Tripartite. Seven-thousand dead. Forty-thousand Imperials. Twenty-Thousand dead. Those twenty thousand Tripartite surmounted the steps to New Providence, chins lifted to the skies and with grips of resolve to their weaponry. At the very front stood three - the commanders of the Tripartite. Captain Banjo, Diome Indoren and the Butcher of the East, Brick. Those three shared glances, for this is where their dawn had begun all those years ago - forty some. It was nearing the Saint’s year anniversary of the first bloodshed Orenia had received on Almaris. When they fought with five-thousand against sixteen-thousand, where all sixteen-thousand were slain and tasted their foremost major defeat. But a few of the old guard stood with them, yet the grumbles and chants of war still echoed from the side of the Tripartite. Against such unfavourable odds again, would they triumph once more? Any who witnessed the slaughter on the steps of Providence would answer with a resounding yes. Outnumbered two-to-one, facing a force of forty thousand Orenians, the Tripartite force valiantly charged the front gates of the city, where they exchanged numerous volleys of arrows with its defenders. After being forced to abandon their positions atop the walls by relentless arrow fire, the Orenian force consolidated and sallied out to meet the Tripartite army in battle. The first two of their charges were unsuccessful, being swiftly outmaneuvered and beaten back behind the walls of Providence. It was in the midst of these failed attempts that Diomé Indoren personally led multiple infantry charges against the enemy, ultimately leaving eight-thousand Imperials slain. To the dismay of the Tripartite commanders the third push of the Orenians found success, effectively splitting the already outnumbered force in two and crushing much of the Tripartite cavalry. Rather than capitalize on this, the Imperials saw fit to blindly chase a band of no more than four-thousand Tripartite soldiers all the way to the Urguani borderlands. These Orenians found themselves deftly evaded by the Tripartite men who managed to join the main force at (Providence Bridge) once again. Here, Auguste van Aert rallied his men and drove them against the scattered Imperials who remained, cutting down four-thousand before routing them toward Providence. As the other half of the Orenian army made their way back to the field of battle along the road from Southbridge they were harassed relentlessly by the cavalry of the Ferrymen. Seeing their weakened state the Butcher of the East led a lance charge into the Imperial cavalry, knocking most from atop their steeds and trampling them underfoot. Knowing their situation to be hopeless, the remainder of the Imperial army finally began their retreat. The Tripartite army, emboldened by their victory, gave chase as they ran for the safety of the walls of the capital. Hope was there for the assailants, seeing as the Orenians had turned charges and fought with some crumbs of honour. Yet, minutes turned into more – the Imperial State Army and those who took up arms with them had retreated into their fortifications a final time. At the climax of the battlefield, the last standing knight – Sir Mohammad Hassan – fought with Islamic fervor against Captain Banjo; he was last seen praying to Allah as a longsword impaled his midriff. (SIR MOHAMMAD HASSAN 4 LYFE)
  5. THE FATE O’ LOBSTERS “Emperor John’s Mom?” - Banjo To the General of the Imperial State Army, You would think that during times of war, external events would be well mulled over and prepared for. The people of Ephesius learned today that you are not prepared, and only willing to defend yourself internally. You are either insecure, incompetent or both. So how about you prove them all wrong? And all one-thousand of our prisoners, who were easily taken from this settlement? Meet us on the field once more, though if you are too craven, you will deliver two-thousand mina for the price of all of these captives. Just one Saint’s hour will be provided for you to bring this mina, or clash with us in battle for their lives - if not, they shall live their last minutes of life knowing that their own General cared nil for them. One victory might have urged you to thinking the tides were turned. But when tides turn, a tsunami may form. If only you could fight as well as you publish overstatements. Signed Banjo, The Captain of the Ferrymen, Savior of the Common and Free People, Pillager of Elvenesse, Liberator of Man, The Bringer of Equality, Capturer of the Bastion, Defeater of Racism, Debearder of Grand Kings, Sailor of the Seas, 2x Mr. Almaris, Emperor of the Roads, Heir to Shipman Keep.
  6. The Enemy of My Enemy Part 2/3 [!] A party of Rustlers, Ferrymen and Irehearts do good work on the roads of Oren. The sun, though beating down heat onto the land of men below, was met with a cool breeze that made for a comfortable atmosphere. The Rustlers, intending only to cripple Orenian supplies, could be found ambushing caravans and trade wagons alike as they sought refuge in the City of Burning Clocks. THUMP THUMP THUMP! The hooves of a horse echoed throughout the field only to be silenced by the driver wishing to stop and rest at a nearby tavern. A gust of wind caught hold of some brush near the side of the road, parting a few leaves and opening a line of sight. Piercing blue eyes stared through the brush, the gaze serious yet clouded with eagerness. With quick and intent movements, Elsil’Ceru sprung into action. The young elf let out a whistle, akin to that of a bird that was local to the region. The caravan looked around in a state of confusion, then interrupted as Iscesi ‘the Doorman’ leaped into action, firing an arrow into the chest of the caravan driver. With the same speed with which the Rustlers appeared, the lives of the caravan guards ended. As the Rustler band cleaned their weapons, they were set upon by a messenger loyal to their cause. The Orenians began their march. With haste, Elsil’Ceru ordered that birds be dispatched to some allies of the Urguan war effort. They set their quills to parchment and sent the messages off with haste. In a nearby forest, the elfish Ferrymen, Vydrek and Diome, walked idly by with their long time friend, Yonash. The trio strolled calmly, taking in the scenery of Orenian lands one last time before they were set to the flame, when a bird flew down and landed atop the shoulder of Vydrek. Yonash stepped forward, grasping at the bird and holding it tight as he removed the attached message. While the man silently read, the two elves readied their weapons. Between the two, they shared centuries of experience in war and knew what a bird sent from the direction of an enemy must mean. The three Ferrymen returned to their horses and made for the nearby Ferrymen camp. As the reinforcements made their way to the roads of Oren, the ISA readied themselves as well. They had received reports that their caravans were being attacked and their supply chain cut off. With their usual haste, the ISA made for the roadside tavern, mounted on the finest steeds the Empire could muster and armed to the teeth. As they arrived, they were met with the host that they sought out. A coalition of Ferryman and Rustler stood at the ready, their numbers lined across the road, ready to meet the ISA’s finest. The two sides stood at a standstill, neither making the first move, but both ready to draw first blood. Silence befell the terrain as the two small armies stood there, offering nothing in the way of words to each other. Diome eyed the mounted men of Oren, his eyes flickering between the groups as they usually did when he was formulating a strategy, when his focus was broken by a sudden shout. “Narvak oz Kjellos!” a voice shouted, booming through the fields as Bakir Ireheart charged in, mounted atop a mighty ram. Bakir swept between the two groups, his warhammer spinning wildly before he swung it at the head of an ISA recruit, his head coming clean off. With the valiant acts of Bakir, the silence was finally broken, replaced by the clashing of steel and flesh. The Ferrymen and Rustler coalition strode forth, their shields tight together as they forced the ISA back toward their hamlet. Yonash stopped as he looked about the battle field. The man watched as the Orenian troops fell to the blades of the allied forces one by one, “Diome!” he shouted toward his comrade “Press the attack! They fall to our blades!” With the rallying words of Yonash, coupled with the charge led by himself and Vydrek, the combined army of Ferryman, Rustler and Ireheart cut down the last of the sixteen ISA soldiers. Bakir turned to Elsil, offering a nod to the Rustler as he blew into his warhorn, signaling for the band to regroup on the roads. Iscesi limped from behind the treeline, wounded but not yet beaten as he returned from slaying several of the Orenian party. Diome and Vydrek returned together, supporting their comrade Yonash as he triumphantly returned to the group alive. The men, elf and dwed all looked around. Led by Bakir, they all began to chuckle lightly with relief. It was comforting to see that all twelve of their group had returned to the place that the battle began, alive and well. Diome made his way up the road, the coalition of forces bonding from the tales they had made during the battle. He found himself beside Elsil as the duo walked. “A fine show we put on didn’t we Ferryman.” said the Rustler. Diome groaned, in annoyance or pain, none could say for certain. “The enemy of my enemy, Rustler.” uttered the veteran Ferryman. [OOC] The information/names used in this post is not public information. This post is a recount of events that occurred in-game and is not to be used to influence RP. The purpose of this post is to share the events of the road skirmish in an RP friendly manner. Thank you.
  7. Get off Our Lawn 5th of Malin’s Welcome, Year 48 of the Second Age “‘Run trough dem’, but also turn back on dem.” [!] The missive would be posted around Almaris, specific copies of the missive would be sent to Urguan, land of the Dwarves. The reign of terror of the Ferrymen is now a mere memory of those who met our swords, but that does not mean we are vanquished. We lure in the dark, a retirement so call it, until we are brought back into the world to fight once more. A beast in slumber must not be poked, lest you wish to deal with a terminating conclusion. Once we are brought back into the world to serve our mission once more, it is not only Urguan who will suffer but the world. You have attempted to take advantage of our slumber Urguan, kicking us out of lands we were granted by Grand Kings before you. Your greed and stupidity will be your downfall. My terms are simple: You have but two options, the following which you may choose from: Get the **** off of our lawn. Leave our lands alone, our forts alone, and allow us to live peacefully in retirement. OR The nation of Urguan, for as long as I am Captain, will never be able to hire out our services. The nations of Almaris shall once again feel the fear of the Ferrymen. I expect your decision to be swift, a meeting if necessary can be arranged. Pick wisely Urguan, for the fate of the world rests in your hands. Signed, Banjo, The Captain of the Ferrymen, Savior of the Common and Free People, Pillager of Elvenesse, Liberator of Man, The Bringer of Equality, Capturer of the Bastion, Defeater of Racism, Debearder of Grand Kings, Sailor of the Seas, 2x Mr. Almaris, Emperor of the Roads, Heir to Shipman Keep.
  8. Clouded Vision 4th of the First Seed, Year 27 of the Second Age https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_x6QmuJdms Amidst war, we strive to prove ourselves, without putting ourselves to suicide by attending any ruse for a hearing, or defense. These accusations by the clergy of Almaris had caught many of our men misplacing their typically green finery, in place of incandescent garbs of pink! What could have possibly caused such a stir up within the confines of our holding? Again and after yet another weedy accusation toward our band of men, the world is simply proving that they truly are in need of pointing their fingers to somebody else when their own leads land to naught. The Ferrymen? Psch. Call us the scapegoats instead. We have ilk of all sorts, this is a letter of a matter of religion, and one proving our innocence upon falsities. So with our chins held high, do we protest these accusations, if anything, we are ready to prove our innocence of this crime. On the accusations of assassinating His Holiness High Pontiff Jude II. We do not claim the terrorist from this attack, and all Ferrymen must undergo trials to become one - training them to not go out and mercilessly kill religious heads. No order of killing was ever put forth to us. I demand that the so-called ferryman by the members of the Imperial State Army is checked for a missing finger. Why? It is in our codex and trials to become a ferryman, I cite from one of our published posts below: “Become credible, members of our roster shall not point to others for the problems of the world. They shall strive towards the solving of problems, acting upon their own accord. To humble oneself and to become integrated, they must remove one finger from their offhand so they can no longer point said blame and direct it onto others; also a sign of loyalty. This act is also to ensure the loyalty of the fledgling member.” If the cut down man is to still have all ten of his fingers, it is proven that it is impossible for him to be a ferryman. So he must have been an imposter in a stolen outfit or a copy of our armour that was well-made enough to fool your people. If he is missing a finger, then I shall gladly come and stand trial. Though, a finger is quite easy to slice off after reading this, and with the dubiety of Orenian history, my trust has been misplaced before, so it might as well be misplaced here. Not to mention, we are between a vicious war, so it would be suicidal to make a showing to any hearing. On the accusation of siding with Norland. We would like to point out that both the side of Norland and Oren were offered our services in this current war. Norland replied to our offer most promptly, while the Empire of Oren replied no such offer, but now years later they paint us as evil beings for following loyalty to contract? They had the opportunity to not face us at all, and they might not have directly refused us, but their ignorance and lack of reply was the only card at play here. Again, as a band of mercenaries, what did we see exactly? At one end was a profitable contract to join in arms with the folk up north, and at the other, no contract at all. Well, I suppose next time we will have to stay neutral, and claim no reward! Ignorance must be truly bliss, so I find myself beginning to envy those Orenians now. And that is already with a global acknowledgement that this current war was prior a war of malice and bad-blood, now turned into a copout war of religion; a false crusade. We signed the contract before this war was titled to be a religious one. In fact, I would argue the Ferrymen have done more in recent years to keep canonism in power, more so than Oren itself. Have you all forgotten that it was the Ferrymen who put Georg I, a canonist prince onto the throne of the Kingdom of Sutica? We did. But aye, that would just be ignorant to claim we have done more than Oren for canonism, but you cannot dispute the fact we are not against cannonism. This figure of Georg was proudly endorsed by the church, and he for one, could vouch for our band. We hope to see these accusations wiped from our band of men, it sickens us to see such loose straws being grasped at. Even once this war is over, our men shall avert to searching for the body of the late Pontiff, instead of seeking contracts; going hungry themselves. We are entirely willing to help. We only ask that you stop using us as your scapegoat for a failed investigation into the matter. Signed, The Ferryman
  9. FRESH PRINCE OF ELVENESSE 18th of the First Seed, Year 26 of the Second Age “Mi iz da new frezh Rex ob da Twiggiez” -Fresh Rex of Elvenesse, Smol’Ruk Today marks another victory for the Ferrymen on the Elven front. A group of 70 Ferrymen marched on the capital of Elvenesse to capture another key victory in the war against the Elves. The force of Ferrymen led by the infamous Captain Banjo, snuck their way into the inner city of Elvenesse and rushed their way into the heart of the capital. At the square, the Ferrymen grouped civilians and soldiers alike to handover their belongings and fought those few soldiers and civilians who had the courage to fight the renowned fighters known as the Ferrymen. Only one of the Elves stood valiantly against the Ferrymen and fought like a true champion (@GeneralPumpkinCZ). At the end of this skirmish, the commander of the Elves was found running cowardly away from the city and the rest of his small force of resistance laid dead in the streets, a fitting death for those who do not stand up for their kin. No losses resulted on the attacking party, as the original group of raiders marched to bandit the remaining civilians and cowardly soldiers. In the throne room the Ferrymen held a short ceremony, crowning Smol’Ruk the ‘Fresh Rex of Elvenesse’. [!] A picture depicting the Ferrymen and Smol’Ruk sitting on the Throne of Elvenesse. As all the elves were either robbed or killed - the Ferrymen left the capital of Elvenesse bare and looted. Their bags filled with loot they had not seen since the days of looting the Imperial city of Providence. Truly a win for the acclaimed Ferrymen. [!] Pictures containing the loot of the Raid on Elvenesse. The Ferryman will come for you all in due time. Signed, Banjo, Captain of the Ferrymen, Savior of the Common and Free People, Pillager of Elvenesse, Liberator of Man, The Bringer of Equality, Capturer of the Bastion The Ferryman Smol’Ruk, Fresh Rex of Elvenesse, Personal friend of the Golden Rex
  10. STORMING OF THE BASTILLE 14th of the First Seed, Year 28 of the Second Age. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4IahvCIqeOc “Okay, I pull up, hop out at the Orenian after party You and all your friends, being tossed like bodies.” - Banjo during his after concert. “See that right triangle? a^2+b^2=c^2” - Sigma the Mathematician The Ferrymen are proud to announce the first major victory of the war, with the Siege of Luciensburg followed with the Capture of the Bastion. The Ferrymen along with the joint forces of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan, Kingdom of Norland, and the Silver State of Haelunor marched upon the gates of Luciensburg where the Imperial Army was currently stationed. The Imperial Army, made up of 8,700 soldiers, hide cowardly behind their gates as a Coalition Army of 10,000 led by the infamous Banjo, Donovan Freysson, and Officer Grudgebeard. Although the Imperial Army cowered behind their gates, the mighty Ferrymen Special Ops group led by Henry Parente and Django committed Operation Poor Plumbing, in which they infiltrated the sewers and slayed an impressive 1,200 Imperials at their hands. With this victory in hand, the Coalition forces moved to Urguan to commit the traditional Ferrymen Slide with a record 5,000 soldiers neatly cha-chaing to the rhythmic beat of Banjo’s banjo. This was only a mere cover up for Imperial Intelligence, as a Second Operation branded “Oren After Party '' was commenced shortly after. 600 Ferrymen and 600 Norlanders led by Banjo and Donovan Freysson went on an incognito mission in the heart of the Kingdom of Oren. This operation was not hard though - the Imperial gate keepers were fast asleep as the 1,200 soldiers easily walked through the gates. These Coalition soldiers were met by 1,400 Orenians who at the sight of combat fled to the safety of their Bastion. They made a grave mistake, for Grand Strategian Sigma from Norland calculated the fastest route to cut the sluggish Orenians off and beat them to the inside of the Bastion where their forces were quickly slain, with no Coalition casualties. These Coalition soldiers captured the Bastion on this day, bringing the first major victory of the War. Let this be known - hiding behind your gates and murdering innocents will lead you onto a path of defeat. The Ferryman will come for you all in time. Signed, Banjo, Captain of the Ferrymen, Savior of the Common and Free People, Liberator of Man, The Bringer of Equality, Capturer of the Bastion, Defeater of Racism The Ferryman
  11. A Deal of Flame and Rivers "In the midst of Chaos, there is always opportunity." - The man with the two mustaches. https://youtu.be/YVkUvmDQ3HY Preface: This contract stands as the officiation of the deal between the Kingdom of Norland and The Ferrymen. This deal will expire at a time where deemed fit by both signatories or conditions detailed later within this contract. Arrangements: The Ferrymen shall aid Norland in the next major global conflict they engage in. Norland shall pay The Ferrymen 3000 mina prior to the conflict and 4000 if victory is achieved. For the duration of said conflict the Ferrymen will not attack the Kingdom of Norland or their other allies in said conflict. The Ferrymen will be supplied by the Kingdom of Norland for the duration of the conflict when needed. The Ferrymen will be given a keep on Norlandic territory to operate out of in the future. The Kingdom of Norland acknowledges the Ferrymen as their own entity whose actions are not representative of The Kingdom of Norland. The Kingdom of Norland is not obligated to defend the Ferrymen from external troubles after the expiration of this deal. Any attempts to claim the land the Ferrymen reside on will still be considered an invasion of Norlandic territory. Penned and arranged by, Donovan Freysson II, Marshall of the Kingdom of Norland Signed, Sven Edvardsson, King of Norland, Duke of Varhelm, Protector of Highlanders Signed, Banjo, Captain of the Ferrymen, Savior of the Common and Free People, Liberator of Man, The Bringer of Equality, Defeater of Racism The Ferryman
  12. It was early morning, the birds were singing, the morning dew glittered like gems in the light of dawn, and under a tree an old man was packing up his campsite. He was clad in full plate, with a sword on his hip he struck at first glance the image of a gallant knight on an adventure, but look closer and you’ll see a different story, what was once a symbol displayed proudly on the chestplate has been crudely ground off, with no sign of what once was there, and a tabard once present is now torn to shreds, whatever symbolism it held long lost, only ragged red cloth. The man held up a piece of parchment to the light, on it a familiar symbol to the people of Oren, a golden schooner, and the words “Justice X Fairness”, the symbol of the Ferry Men, who seek to depose the old noble order. The man’s left fist clenched, adding more crumples to the already worn sheet, before his first words of the day were forced out of chapped lips “Fools… the same, ideals, the same mistakes, its just like so long ago…” The old man looked to the horizon, a breeze catching at the tattered remnants of his tabard. He raised his cold right hand to the horizon and shook it with the fury of one who has seen the same mistakes repeated again, and again. “These Ferry Men, they are the same, and if they remain that way, they must be stopped” The breeze picks up, flinging a medallion out from underneath the man’s breastplate, on it, emblazoned a symbol that once held the same meaning as that in his left hand, but now means nothing, not anymore. “But perhaps… perhaps they can be taught, perhaps I can fix those old mistakes, once and for all” The man glanced at his right hand, his missing right hand, rather he glanced to the symbol etched into the unfeeling iron prosthetic, lovingly engraved by a dwarven smith, that of a chain, symbolizing penance. He then glanced to the symbol on his medallion, a red gear, the symbol.... of the cheloveks “I swear on the name Joseph Hartjensteyer, I will find you Ferry Men, and I will make you better" "For you.... dearest Maria, I shall ensure my penance is done"
  13. Even-Out Evening 11th of Snow's Maiden, Year 3 of The Second Age Video Première link : Our last public announcement yielded great success, with those on ‘the band of the hours’ side giving a thunderous standing ovation. Cheering our name in the streets as we at last redistributed the surplus amount of wealth to those in need of it, while also liberating them from the shackles of society. No longer will the oppressors of these lands turn their noses up and look down upon the common man, for they will soon be eating alongside their unfortunate necessitous peers. To do this, another plan had to be devised, to show the hard-working that our group of mere men will stop at nothing to bring the pigs to heel. Our men were once wallowing in the depths of society too, by your side, yet they raised their consciousness from the bottomless abyss. To ensure that nobody would have to live like them again, underneath the frilly heel of a pompous Nobleman. At long last sticking at nothing until a true to man societal reform is put into place, not a true to nobleman reform. They are the outnumbered ones in this world, yet they still feel so inclined to treat us without regard. Thus, in no more than a singular winter’s night, a plan was hatched. ACT 1 - The Bank Heist The plan was as plain as a picture book; for the foe was as easy to read as a three year olds idle scribblings. Their discipline is similar to that of the crayons colored outside of the lines in a picture book. We were to steal as many of their tax slips as possible, handing them out to the backbone of their nation thereafter, the farmers. So with talk of their military gloating about a singular, yet entirely false killing of one of our comrades, we knew that we had to return them from their childlike fantasy; the reality in which we controlled. Due to bolstering our five champions, myself included, not one intruding thought passed through our minds as we strode into the bustling city, when it was most alive. Upon entering the city, distant clashes of metal and inept barking were easily discerned by our five. The Imperial State Army was in the midst of conducting their typical improper training. Then within half of a second, our leader echoed his voice to make himself known to those dwelling inside of their grandiose yet compensating haunt. Hurtling into the bank after, two of us hovered over the rest with torches while they set about cracking into their many safes. Before we knew it, the bank was surrounded by the Empire’s trembling soldiers, all donning scarlet red. We hastily departed from their governmental building, being greeted by the named army at hand. We knew from our last raid there was nothing in the slightest to fret about, as numbers mean little if incompetency is the only thing your army is renowned for. So we stood there, without a singular bead of sweat upon our brows, our shoulders straight and chests out. As the Imperial State Army fumbled into ranks, we yet noticed that not one of their soldiers could yet equal our mens heights, not even if one were to stand on another's shoulders. Our up-and-coming companion, who was new to the company, uttered lowly, “My comrade, they have thrice our numbers.” Lacking a second inbetween, our leader responded with “Yes,” his voice sounding both resonant and composed. For half an hour, our group ran their horde around their own city, hurling our torches towards buildings that had previously been marked on the eve before. Hopscotching from wall to wall subsequently, our destination had been found without a singular scratch showing on our bodies. Once we had climbed down from their tallest wall of all, we reached to our sides and all pulled our flasks into our grasps. We cheered and clinked our drinks together, while the soldiers above contemplated saving their buildings or giving chase to our smaller force. One eager rapscallion, foaming at the mouth and hair dripping off his head as though a razor had been taken to it slipped. This was the fault of none other than a well-placed banana peel, all according to plan. The other soldiers, mistaking a genuine slip for some form of leadership, followed suit, and plummeted into the field. Their leadership needed to show that their city was safe, they could not simply allow mere freedom fighters to combat them again and triumph. The people of Providence fund them, yet in every circumstance their funding is misplaced. So it was their time to shine, to prove their worth in a time so vital, and shine they did. Not in triumph, no. Not in mere stalemate either. They shined in waves of their own flickering blood, all cut down and put to rest. Each of them sharing a blood-curdling scream, as they clawed at the walls that were supposed to protect them. There was nothing to save them from it all, they might have stuck together at first but they shattered at the first sign of loss. They were so displaced from the initial charge, that our men frolicked between them without being impeded, the red tide mistaking foe for friend. After hearing the jaw of their General crack under the pressure of ‘Ts’ steel-lined boot, their swarm lost all composure and dispersed like lambs running away from a wolf. Their feet could not be trusted either, being effortlessly caught up to and crushed by the infamous ‘roadrunners’. Their numbers continued to grow thinner and thinner, much like the hairlines of the sharks at the very top of the inferior scarlet army. They did not stand a chance. Outmatched by our tacticians and outdone by the unparalleled synergy of our men, the ISA realised that outside of their imposing walls, they are nothing and will never be anything besides training dummies for their betters. There was not a thing that could have saved them from the outside, their weak mental strength faltering as soon as they tasted the fresh and free air outside. That ends the tail of the butchering of the Imperial Army, yet, not a singular simple man was hurt that day. I propose you cease in paying their wages and instead invest in more gardens, for flowers give as much protection as the ISA can provide. Perhaps then, we shall see a smile upon General Peter Baldwin D’Arkent’s face. ACT 2 - Dark Elf Liberation While the named group above was occupied laying an entire army to rest, another group of like-minded individuals was picked for a similar task. This army was larger though, to everyone's surprise, proved much more primitive and further intellectually incapable. Laying low in a thicket just off of the capital of Elvensse, the group lay their eyes upon a predetermined figure, another oppressor of the people. No minute was made to waste, so they darted after him and dragged him to a steep cliffside, where a boat was waiting for their arrival. Just as they had arrived, in the course of traipsing down to their port of call, an army almost four times the size of our force met them. They were cornered upon all sides, the steep cliffside lingering behind them and the Wood Elven army bearing arms in front of them. The Elves all had vicious smirks spread across their thinned lips, yet they soon curtailed and contorted into angst frowns. Our men had all taken a second of silence before plunging from the cliffside and into the dangerous waters; leaps of faith. If a passerby was to roam by, they would have screamed bloody mary and proclaimed it a mass suicide. Fortunately it was not the case, the group plunged deep and raised to the surface within moments, all drawing thin and shattered breaths. With their hearts in their mouths, they tread the water and looked up in disbelief as the opposing soldiers started to rain from the sky. It was an impulsive decision quite clearly from their lesser-trained military, all plopping into the water, but more so diving into death’s door. Just like sharks to fish, the Ferryman at the top of their chain pulled the dagger-eared men one by one under the water. In which a minute would pass before a body would float to the surface in a puddle of blood. The weak-chinned Elves began to panic, already realising that certain defeat was guraunteed. It was magic, seeing such a force disappear in no more than five minutes. However, their force had not been the only thing to have faded away, as our kidnapped target had given into death. We might have lost a valuable hostage, but the spoils gathered were greater than the price paid for any singular Elf; feeding the mouths of many. It is time for revolution friends. Do not give into the listed oppression and allow us Ferryman to lead the charge, for our minds lie with you, not ourselves. We hope to see you, common men and women, at our side when the evening comes. The evening where every palace on this realm is plundered. We will tear the golden coating from their pillars and provide some good in this shallow world. Written by: Dyselxic
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