User blog:Sliver Barb/Plants and birds and rocks and things.



 Down on your luck again. This is starting to become a recurring pattern in your life, and you’re not having any of it. A few more weeks like this, and it’s back to moving in with your mum! And if that’s not awkward enough, rumor is, your stepfather has moved back in, and that is an issue you’d rather not deal with now, or ever for that matter. Cursing your diminished luck, you stumble through the town square in a saddened stupor. Why is this happening? Is this karmic retribution for that time you threw a cat in a pond when you were six? Or that time Jenny “fell” of the second story balcony-wait. You probably shouldn’t be monologuing that story. That’s a story for another time when there are far less people listening. Your melancholic venture through town finally leads you to a massive noticeboard in the center of the town’s pavilion. Your eyes dart across the board skipping over various leaflets (though, it almost gets caught on one with a rather… alluring figure on it, though it’s quickly freed after noticing the word “Heresy!” in bright red text under the heading). Your gaze finally stops on a massive advertisement with the word “Caravaneers Wanted!” embossed in the middle. You hastily copy down the address found at the bottom of the ad, and scurry off to find the recruiter. You’re not sure what exactly what the job “caravaneer” entails, but it certainly can’t be too terrible.

 “The Gansu Desert, a land rife with opportunity and- yeah, who am I kidding? This place is a waste. Plagued by bandits. Collapsing infrastructure, and suckers willing to pay a metric asston for basic commodities such as water or rice. You can see why we show such interest in these badlands. And this, dear friend, is where you come in. See, we (we as in the Shiverpeak Trading Coalition, remember that name) have hit a metaphorical wall lately. We’ve been trying to cut down on costs for each caravan by sending less guards down along with each one. Unfortunately, all this seemed to do is cause a sharp rise in fatalities, and frighten merchants who may have opted to use our services. In retrospect, that was an obvious blunder, but we’ve since realized our mistake, and have come up with what we think is a brilliant idea. We’ve lowered our standard for caravan guards, and are now accepting a wider variety of mercenaries. Please don’t make us regret this change.”

 Yeah, that’s how the meeting with the recruiter went. Or at least the parts you listened to. Bureaucratic asshole. Oh well, it’s probably easy money, right?

 Hah, of course not, it never is, is it?!

 So now you’ve been through the desert on a camel with no name, and at this moment, you’re probably regretting that you ever filed a response to that accursed leaflet. You probably could have found a nice job as a farmhand right on the edge of town. You really don't belong here, and you realized this fact precisely at the moment when your navigator called you aside on that third day in the desert fun. He pointed out on the map on where you supposedly were, and where you were headed. He mentioned something about the caravan following the wrong landmarks, and when you asked where you were supposed to be, he grimaced and pointed to a mountain range far off on the horizon. Yeah, what a twist.

Stuff that's not fluff!
 Okay, so here’s the idea. I’m making a roleplay (what a surprise!). Yeah, I’m actually doing something for once, weird right? Anyway, here’s how this is supposedly works. You and a number of other people took up jobs as caravan guards to the outskirts of the Mist continent. Which, rather unfortunately, happens to be a massive desert. So you and your ragtag band of traders have to make your way across the desert without losing your money, and or your life. Here’s the thing though. This isn’t the most, well, civilized place to be. The inhabitants of this land don’t take to kindly to strangers. Or well, anyone really. There’s a rumor of a roving band of centaurs that have the nasty habit of shooting anything that moves, but that’s a story for later. Okay, so that prompt you saw at the start, yeah, that exact situation didn’t happen to you, something similar did. It’s your choice really, the stuff above is just a little information concerning where you are and how you go there. Any stuff for how you in particular got there is completely up to you.

 In terms of NPCs and the FORCES OF NATURE, a few select people and I will be controlling that. So if the air itself is trying to raise its carbon dioxide content just to smother you, that’s probably my doing. Okay, not really, but you get the idea. Once we get a satisfactory amount of people, I’ll start this thing off. If things get too… Hectic, I may make NPCs a little more brain-dead, and therefor easier to control. I’m not a monster, I swear!

Rules!   Break ‘em and I break ya legs.

 * This isn’t going to be hyper-realistic, but please, don’t do anything stupid. If it seems stupid and impossible, don’t try it.


 * Don’t stick your dick in everything. Interpret that how you wish.


 * I’m not always right. If something seems stupid, please inform me, we’ll see what my highly trained council™ and I can do about it.


 * If it’s funny, stupid, and actually works, it’s not stupid.




 * There should probably be something else here.


 * All of this is subject to change