The Odd and Slightly Dangerous Adventures of Life (marc)

[llama]

Character sheet:

Name: Jeston Ondrej

Age: 26

Appearance: Jeston has brown hair, which doesn't look too even. He has brown eyes. He has a pointy beard, which, in contrast to Jeston's own description of it, is rather messy. He wears the average 1500's Brugondian farmer clothing, except it's a little stiched up with DIY methods and dirtier. He seems to have a dented iron elbow pad.

Skills (magic, swordplay, intelligent, etc.): He knows basic swordfighting, but he may still learn magic or swordplay.

Weaknesses (two will do): shitty intelligence (may charge headfirst without care and use only basic tactics, and having a 1/9 chance in messing up swordfighting, along with beliving in lies)

Bio (can be short): Jeston was born into a middle-to-low class family located in the Dual Kingdoms, and probably didn't have a good life, so he wanted to look superior. He grew up listening legends of heroes and wishing to become like one of them. He did get signed into a warrior school, but due to problems following instructions, he was eventually dropped out. Even after growing up to become a single peasant farmer in Brugondia, he held onto the self-made beliefs that he would soon become a legend.

Religious affliation: N/A

Preferred starting nation (can go as far to include region/city if you'd like): Brugondia




----


Hail to the year 1575 due to it being a year in which Brugondia exists. This nation of stupid farmers and an even stupider government, you reckon it's a nation that you can milk for all the glory it has to offer. You have recently left your hometown of Notgoodallia, founded by people who were very proud of the secessionist war that had happened. You have been travelling around the country, just itching for some opportunity to show your potential for greatness. It hasn't come yet, but you're sure it'll come in due time. It has to.

All of this traveling has brought you to the outskirts of Byzan in the small trading outpost of Creole. Everyone here seems to be in distress, spelling the connotation of something has gone aerie recently. Your investigations of news has brought you to a tavern, The Seedy Raccoon (you know it's called the seedy raccoon because underneath the letters is a raccoon with various cysts covering it. Is it seriously wearing an eyepatch?), one filled with thugs and brigands and merchants. Just a real good mix of the cesspool. Damn, you wish you paid more attention in school to where you could at least be a little bit literate (you can read some really plain words, but weird fonts and basically anything bigger than a basic word is a struggle, if not impossible).

(sorry for short starting post; in school. expect more to be added in the coming posts.)

[marc122]

...Ehh, I think I'm fine without all that necessary stuff. Maybe a visit to the Seedy Racon--uh, Rac...coon will give me a nice chance to finawy let everyone know who I am. I'm sure it will go all right. I begin making my way to...um...there. Let's see if they'll like me, and if they do, I think I'll start to look like an awesome warrior!

[llama]

You swagger on into the bar, receiving a few weird looks from a group of men in the corner. The barkeep is a fat halfling standing on what seems to be a raised platform behind the counter, and he grins at you as you come in. "What can I do for you, friend?" He asks, beaming at you.

[marc122]

I held up my main finger. It's got to have the greatest drinks in the whole wide world.
"I'd like the best you got!"
(Of course he obviously didn't read the menu. Why would he?)

[llama]

The barkeep gives you a grin, and the pulls up a mug from under the counter. He gives you a sly smile with a tilt of his head, making a double chin extrude out. The mug has a lock over it, and it is in an ancient cask. You really aren't sure what you're getting yourself into. "The Yuletide Brew. No one has dared to drink it for generations. Too scared. Can't handle the best."

[marc122]

(P.S: I'm deliberately aiming for either short term or short-to-mid term. If Jeston somehow survives longer than I expect him to, then mid-term it is.)
"Hm! Well isn't the Yutite Brew going to be the greatest of the brews in centuries. I'll take the full thing!"
I walked over to the mug, arms folded, and smiling as beastly as I can. I then grabbed the mug and drank it whole. Just trust me! I'll prove my worth this way!

[llama]

(let's hope you cause some world shaking events prior.
do you have another character prepared?)

Using brute force, you break open the lock on the drink and then take a swig though after the equivalent of a few sips you fall over unconscious. If the alcohol didn't give you a tremendous amount of brain damage, you hitting your head on the floor definitely did.
You wake up with voices over you, those of chants. "Hyuhe, Hyuhe, Hyuhe!" They keep saying, in an exceptionally loud tone. Though above you is dark from your closed eyes you can still see some light around the corner of your eyes, to your side.. where the fuck are you?

[marc122]

(I may write another character.)
Hey, wha? UGH! STUPID DRINK! Ah well. Least it was the best I've ever drank. But let's deal with 'em, eh? Well, okay. I open my eyes and look around.
"Huh? Who you?"

[llama]

You look up to a whole gang of blue robed figures around you, performing motions with their hands and repeating that same word over and over again. When you awaken, one of them awkwardly pats another on the shoulder, which causes him to stop. If you could see the face that is hiding under the hood, you would see an expression of dumbfounded person, "Youfre above, you're awake!" All the robed figures stop their chanting and motions and kinda lower their hands, making the whole situation even more awkward.

[marc122]

Okay, now to tell 'em! I then smiled, and took in air.
"...Man, was it worth it! They thought that nobody would ever come close to ever drinking the Yutiti--Yutetitite--uh, the Y-brew, and I was the one that ever actually drank it. And in fact, I'm the only one who has actually tasted it, and it was vewy good-tasting! So good that I couldn't simply handle it at all!"

[llama]

Your exposition of greatness in the form of alcoholic consumption makes everyone in the room even more quiet, until one of the robed figures lets out an exasperated sigh and throws down a dagger on the ground. "Aw, come on guys! You said this was going to be a simple blood offering of an already dead guy but now here he is fuckin' talking about Yuleie--Yulala-Yule... whatever brew! Like, what the fuck!"
"Now, calm down Jim." One next to the guy consoles, putting his hand on his shoulder, "We can still recover from this burp. Just gotta try and figure out how."

[marc122]

Wait, what? Uh... They're going to offer blood of a dead guy to me? Huh! Is it the blood of one of the legends I used to wead about? Ah, what the hell. Drinking their blood means that I'm gonna have their awesome skills and...yeah! Oh boy, so many possibilities!

[llama]

You're lying down and grinning at all of them as the group of them argue. Suddenly, you hear the opening of a door in the back and a happy decree from a petite voice, "Okay, I got the cooki-" Now this is where this cute little voice turns vicious, "wait, what the fuck, he's alive?!?"
"Patricia.." the same consoler says in a low turn, "it's okay. Jim here was gonna get a hammer from next door to fix this whole thing."
"I never said I was gonna get no ha-" A heavy push with an elbow causes him to catch up with the inference, "oh, yeah, give me a second!" Jim turns for the door and hurries out, in search of a hammer that they'll use for whatever.

[marc122]

I trying to hold in my laughter... This is possibly the best day of my life...I mean, drinking the best brew in centuries, possibly getting a chance to drink the blood of an awesome warrior to gain his talents and watching some, I don't know, ritual go wrong? Can this day get any better than this?

[llama]

As Jim runs out to get the Hammer of Greatness because it is involved in this glorious process that will make you great, the group of people turn to look at you. One of them kinda tilts their head, crooking their hood a bit, before asking, "What are you so happy about?"

[marc122]

"I got to drink the greatest beer that nobody else has ever drank in centuries! And now I'm about to get the blood of a great legend!"

[llama]

The group of robed figures look to each other, and then back to you. One of them mumbles something which receives some nervous chuckles, but it's too quiet for you to hear. After a little bit more deliberating, they turn to you, "So you're like.. completely fine with this?" One asks, surprise tinging in their voice.

[marc122]

"Why, absolutely!"

[llama]

They all look to the cloaked figure previously known as Patrica, she seeming to be the leader. One of them mutters, "Hyuhe does demand the blood of the willing or the dead.." They all murmur in agreement, leaving Patricia silent. "This.. this isn't how it was supposed to go.." She says in a low voice, but then yields to popular opinion, "Okay, okay.."
The door slowly opens and a cloaked head peeps through and then hurries on in. With a carpenter's hammer in hand, Jim slowly walks to the gathering of his peers. "Before the chanting begins, does the Sacra have anything to declare?" He seems to be poising this question to you.

[marc122]

"Yes. The blood transwer will give me the powers of some of the most fearsome, and most honered, people that were out there, and i will be the one to grav ahold of these! And that means that I eill be the greatest i've wanted to be!"

[llama]

They all kind of do a collective shrug at this proclamation and then begin chanting; "Hyuhe, Hyuhe, Hyuhe, Hyu-" Mid chant, there's a heavy breakage in the back of your head which results in the lights going out, so to speak. Even as you're unconscious, you can continue to hear them chant and feel your wrists being slit with small little cuts......

You wake up in a rather uncomfortable bed with a raging pain in the back of your head. You look around, blinking rapidly at your surroundings; rotting walls, a block of wood that acts as a night stand, and a bed made entirely of wood and hay. On top of this, you feel ridiculously hungover!

[marc122]

(I might as well switch between first person and third because laziness.)
Jeston eventually screamed in rage, and pain, struggling to even grasp the back of his head. He tries to think of why it's hurting, but alas, probably just like before, he fails to find out the true cause. He tried getting out of the bed by rolling off of it...and falling over onto the floor in the process.

[llama]

Making a loud crashing sound on the floor, you can feel your body just filling with splinters following your fall. You hear a person behind one of the walls yell something about keeping quiet because a girl was close to putting out.. what? Where even are you?

[marc122]

(2 weeks + 2 days too late?)
Jeston yelled a little, then got up and tried to brush off the splinters. He breathed heavily, which is something I thought he wouldn't be able to competently do, and tried to look for a way out. But hey, trust me, he'll cause even more havoc if he even finds that way.

[llama]

(meh. everyone else is dead.)

Rising to a stand and brushing the splinters to the side (this just causes a few more of them to delve deeper in, but some of them fall out) you start punching holes in the walls in an attempt to find a weak part in the foundation. In this rage, a door suddenly opens behind you, with someone short of breath, assumedly having had ran to your door, "What in Yulesia's name are you doing?!?"