A Broken World [rp]

I sneak closer, only to eavesdrop and conceal my weapon

 

I get out of the water and keep going.

 

I shrug and continue at the brick. This time I completely ignore my inmate.

 

I head out to the village to pick up the swords

 

Name: Nard Elighropt

Gender: Male

Age: 25

General Appearance: A 6 foot man with a long scar around his chest and black hair. (No im not good at appearances)

Parent Jobs (Choose 2 – Whether any parent is alive or dead will be randomly assigned): Dad's a Regular soldier and Moms a Nurse

Jobs in your early life: Squire

Current Job: Squire

Quick Backstory: Nard's family was quite a poor one, eating stale loaf's of bread wasn't the best. With Nard's family being in the army just as a many peasants would to to get few coins, but just enough to stay alive. Nard saw this he saw it in evrey place, people fighting for coins just scraps of it. Nard promised his family he would become rich and never agian may him and his family eat little to no food, he wanted to see them eat of gold plates and the only way to do that, was to become a knight and fight for his king and gain riches. He became a squire of a a great knight by the name of Percedius and trained to become a knight. Many years later it was only a day away till he reached knighthood and would see his family eat off gold.

Goal's in life: Nard's goals are to become a knight, serve the king and to make his family rich so they will never starve

 

You stomp on the ground a few times...
your footfall must be audible over several miles you think to yourself as the sound of the stomping travels over the plains in every direction. The ground doesnt seem to give at all and you sit down, probing the ground with your fingers instead. You really wouldn't call it comfortable, but a small dent in the ground offered slightly more comfort than the completely bare ground around you...

Accepted, you have been placed in Gerinda ( http://prntscr.com/9yjde4 ).
Geographical lore:
One of the three small villages around the trade route from Pagundur, these settlements were started by a rich land owner long ago, who was trying to make new people move to his land. He built several large houses, financed out of his own treasury, and offered large sums of money for any people that wanted to settle here. Despite his best efforts the villages never developed into anything more than a collection of large farmhouses, and during the reign of this king, probably will never see any brighter days.
The villages are part of the Fort Jastel estate, and are therefore required to deliver wheat and any other products they produce straight there. There have yet to be any disputes - the farmers in the villages work hard and due to the old, but good quality houses built by the land owner long ago, do not have to spend much time worrying about the house and their land.
Roleplay:
As every day you wake up in your bed of straw and get dressed. Since the death of your mother your father expects you to help out on the farm as much as possible, driving the cattle, plowing the fields, whatever needs to be done. Its hard work, and at the end of the day you are usually too exhausted to do much else, but you understand the necessity of it - and realise that the only reason you can go to sleep on your reasonable comfy bed after a meal in the evening is because of the hard work you do during the day.
You are out on the field later that day, taking a short break, when you suddenly hear a crash and the distinct noise of cracking wood. A moment of silence, and then a high pitch scream tears across the fields. The sound is coming from between the houses.

You sneak closer and perch behind a bush that you think suitable for concealing you from view and listen in on the conversation.
"A naked blonde walks into a bar, carrying a dog under one arm and a 6 foot salami under the other. The Bardtender says, 'So, I don't suppose you'd be needing a drink?' The blonde says-" the joke is interrupted as another man comes and sits in their midst and lowers his voice. You catch a few single words, 'spy', 'woods', 'friend'.
There is a rustling to your right and you see a bunny hopping drearily through the undergrowth.

The day drags on as you march through the grass along the main road. Your knee is still stinging and with every step on a stone or an uneven bit of earth a small flicker of pain shoots up your leg. Wouldnt it be easier walking on the road itself?
You resist the urge, thinking of the dangers of being spotted, what if one of the nobles was looking for you? What if they made it back to town and thought you were one of the bandits? You think about your face on a wanted poster...
Soon the sun starts to set and the sky turns a shade of red as the dying glows of the sun reflect off the high clouds in the west. The road has started to turn north and there is a small forest to the right. You feel your stomach start to rumble and your throat is dry.

You turn back to your work and fumble with the stone, moving it back and forth in some king of rhythm trying to loosen it further and remove it from the wall. At first it edges only a few millimetres to either side. Then nearly half a centimetre. Soon you think you have almost managed to remove the stone from its resting place. Your hands are rough and scratched when you get ready for the final pull on the stone - when suddenly the room fills with a blinding light from outside.

You leave your camp towards to town of Frenda, being careful to avoid the larger village that lies between your camp and the town. You go your familiar path, some of it is already so well used that you can make it out through the grass and trees, like a small earth coloured snake moving out of the forest and slowly towards Frenda. Your early morning encouraged half jog soon turns into a sluggishly paced walk as the day passes and your legs get tired. However you refuse yourself rest until you reach the halfway mark of your journey, the main trade route.
By the time the dark is well settling in you feel the stones of the road under your shoes and make out a few caravans in the distance. Last time you managed to ask a few travellers that were camping here whether you could borrow a bed as well; now you were not so lucky. Maybe the ground has to do. You wonder what route to take in the morning...

Accepted! You have been placed in Frinas ( http://prntscr.com/9dl34s )
Geographical Lore:
Frinas is a large town, almost a city, in the south of Sariel. It was going to be chosen as capital by Grusalf the first, due to the Fort as well as the fortified town, however the slightly warmer weather conditions down there didn't quite suit him, as well as the less practical location of the fort, which is on a lower elevation than Trestel, as well as being right in the center of the town.
Fort Heriole is still inhabited nonetheless. A military general - loyal to the king, has made this fort his home for a decade now. Despite not being the capital, the military presence is strong here, and the amount of troops available to the general directly may even outnumber those stationed in the capital of Liareau and the fort of Trestel.
Despite his harsch rule rivaling that of the king himself, the military general; Keron Garek, is generally liked in Frinas. He shows himself often at local events, and is known to help some street lurkers to become respectable soldiers in his army, with full stomachs and good pay. This combination of harsch rule and friendliness towards the ruler has eradicated crime in Frinas. Sure, there are a few petty crimes, which are punished as harshly as in the capital itself, but not much else.
However, poverty is still present in Frinas. There are a number of old families located in Frinas, all of which hold a majority of the money that flows into Frinas, and the rest of the population can only get by day by day. In addition, the rumours of the southern warlord have had their impact here, as with every new piece of information about him, swathes of people leave the town to go north, to where they believe it is safer than so close to the border.
RP
This is the day.
There really wasn't much to it. Not really. All you had to do was go up and be knighted. Not even by the king, just by the commander of Heriole. Just a few steps along the great banquet hall, kneel, recieve a praise for your hard work and dedication as a squire from your mentor Percedius - you even went through the words with him before this - and then a few strokes by the commanders sword and then - bring on the riches!
Its really not that difficult. Its not like you were the only one either. 36 others had turned up for the event. 36 other squires. Some much younger than you, only 16 or so, others already looking like hardened veterans in their 30s. None of them looking nervous.
It really wasnt something you could mess up. Unless you manage to trip up and impale yourself on the commanders sword you really couldnt do anything wrong here. But somehow you were nervous.
Just as you were debating the consequences of tripping up while walking across the hall with yourself, a booming voice bellowed your name;
"ENTER, NARD ELIGHROPT"

 

I get a hay fork as weapon and run to see what has happened.

 

I snake around the camp, slowly creeping into a safer hiding spot, but close enough to stil hear

 

I go over to one of the bushes and test to see how soft it might be.

 

I ignore the light and continue on the brick.

 

I decide to head with my usual route, but stray off a bit incase imperial soldiers have grown aware of the increasing rebel activity

 

I walk up to the commander ready to be knighted.