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Mid-Range Game 25: Lowborn Intrigue


TheMightyLopen

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58 minutes ago, Walin said:

Since this is my first RP, how do you roleplay in SE? I've looked at other MR's and all the role playing seems to be just voting and calling other people suspicious. Can we give lines or non-action verbs for the character to do to set up tension or stuff? As a side note, is that what we're always supposed to do, and the people I saw were just metagaming about votes?

You can write everything in RP, that's absolutely not problem. For example in AG 3 one player(Wyrmhero) all his posts were in RP, including why he suspicious of someone or etc. 

I think I will sign up for this game... but I don't promise that I will be active, next couple weeks can be super busy for me.

 

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11 hours ago, randuir said:

Anyway, seems to me like we need some more players. @Amanuensis, I saw you were back (and then promptly got lynched C1 in the LG -_-). Want to join this game? 

I'm not sure I can, to be honest. I mostly joined that game at the behest of another player for numbers, with the caveat that I needed to die early so I can focus on my work stuff. I ended up not being online much anyway so it was good for me that I got lynched C1. This is cutting it too close to comfort, though. Sorry I can't be of help

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Well, I died in the other game and now it's midterm break so I'm signing up as...

Oh. This is a MR8 re-run. That game was my greatest failure. Let me just...

Mortago remembered the fire. He had been an Ardent back then, praying to an Almighty that he didn't truly believe in. But that didn't stop the visions. He could see the innocent and the wicked, and could see them for what they were, but he doubted them. Mortago thought the visions were flukes, that his paranoid mind was giving him the answers he desperately sought. Why had he doubted the Almighty? He wasted his time by dithering, contemplating and re-contemplating scenarios over and over. He could have said something! But no, he dithered, and then one day... the fire happened.

He didn't know who had started it. He knew the wicked were behind it, but he didn't know why they had decided on killing him that night. Oh, how he wished he had told someone about the visions! No, he did tell one person, a guardsman, strong and courageous. He was supposed to guard him that night, but the conspirators had realized his plans. They killed him the night they set the fire, turning all of Mortago's plans into ash in one fell swoop.

He had tried running, but the flames were everywhere. A piece of timber crashed onto his back knocking him to the floor. He had to crawl his way out. The next thing he remembered, he was being nursed back to health by a field medic, unaware of the growing conspiracy. He had spent several days on death's doorstep, and had to watch as the traitors culled the camp. It was a bloodbath, and if he had just been there... Things would have been different.

In the aftermath, the wicked took control of the camp. He couldn't reveal himself, or he would face certain execution, so he ran. He forged a new life for himself. It wasn't pretty. He had lost everything in the fire. He had nothing but his name, his nature as a light-eyes, and the clothes on his back. To dull the pain, he started drinking. At first, it was only one or two glasses, but soon he was drinking whole jugs of Horneater white. Of course, alcohol had its price, and his debtors began calling. They press-ganged him, and he wound up in one of the Bridge Crews. It was what he deserved after all. He had failed the camp, and this was his punishment. It was a tortuous existence. His burns ached every time he carried the bridge, and every night he dreamed about the people he failed to save. In the end, he longed for the sweet release of death, and the promise of the Almighty.

He finally believed. The Almighty had given Mortago a great gift, and yet he had squandered it. He had known his visions were true, yet he rejected them. No longer. He prayed everyday, blessing the Almighty with all his being. He just wanted one more try. One more try to root out the evil among them, one more try to purify the camp of those wicked men, one more try to fix everything. He would serve faithfully, he would serve honestly, he would serve with all his being until he had nothing left to give. He would give his life for the Almighty. And all he needed was a chance.

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I won't have much time tomorrow, so I'll start my RP for tonight. Also, I'll keep it ambiguous enough to not conflict with the first rollover summary.

 

Nerkel walked into the barracks after his first bridge run. He was exhausted, and almost regretted his conversation with Skemmet. The guy started joking about how his commanding officer had used some destructive tactics and gotten some of his friends killed needlessly. "Yeah, I saw some Sadeaspren around him that day. Never going to forgive him after that, the stupid lighteyes," Skemmet had said. A second passed and his eyes then widened a bit, but Nerkel hadn't noticed. Obliviously, Nerkel replied, "You must mean I'mstupidspren, 'cause I've seen that around a bunch of lighteyes for the past week. One supposed surgeon actually stabbed me and wrapped the wound, saying 'I wanted to see if my knife could still cut bandages.'" A captain with a pretty high-ranking glyphpair had been walking past and reached hearing distance by the time Nerkel had started talking. He was pulled to the bridge crew barracks snickering uncontrollably at the irony of the situation. Hopefully, this would all blow over and Nerkel could keep his sanity. My reasoning always has been dependent on humor, and if I can't have jokes... Nerkel sighed morosely and sat down for the night.

Edited by Walin
Changed a few words so it sounds better.
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1 hour ago, Lemonelon said:

My favourite number is 501. I'd be happy with any bridge number which is odd though...

You wouldn't happen to have chosen that from a different fandom, perhaps?  One set a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away?

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