"Take their coin, it's only fair game. Take their lives, now that's a shame." - Credited to Jack As a note before you possibly waste your time reading this: This RP is far more about planning and plot than action and magic. Your characters can be your own, but I have presets in case you are interested in that. Otherwise, the party needs: A thief The muscle An alternative means of income Stage manager PM if you have any other alternative "conman" role planned out. The caravan, that is to say the two wagons, were not a sight to behold in any favor to say the least. One had been smeared in blood, dust, and water so much that it now looked more mottled brown than it did stark white. The other had been burned on several occasions, and now only served to hold a meager store of supplies. Still, this didn't disturb the Bastards, who were but six in number. Gentleman Jack, Tom, Tom-Tom (who stole his name from Tom), Katherine and Katrina (who were twins), and Biter. Jack was a smug and cunning liar whose clever tongue made him a natural conman. Tom was the manager of the stage, the one who hired the "orderlies" to lie about Jack's supposed miracles. Tom-Tom, rumored to be a fourth Oruthrall - the pale skined and horned barbarians they are - may be called the enforcer, though in reality he is nothing but a means of frightening people into submission. Katherine, and possibly Katrina, was either the "alternative means of income in populated areas" or the archer, depending on if you got the person right; the two were near identical twins. Lastly there was Biter. No one really knew where Biter came from or what he did to earn Jack's trust, but the little thief was good at what he did so long as you didn't question what was in his food... The Long Trek North as Jack called it was his flight from the war-torn southlands into perhaps a better home. At a time, there might have been over a hundred wagons following his lead, narrowed down to only one and a half. His followers had been many, but they either died off or settled down along the road, yet it did not matter to him. For him, this was just an excuse to lie and take money from those gullible enough to believe him and his miracles, for any and all educated knew that magic was a right bestowed only to the Nine. Still, with every passing town the townsfolk (and the few hired to act the part of being sick or crippled) believed in the man's miracles to some extent, paid their coin, and were off with that stupid grin Jack enjoyed to see so much. At least, when their pouches were considerably lighter than they were... The World Itself With that bit of exposition/introduction out of the way, here's the world: There exists an order, or rather a group, of god-like beings known simply as "the Nine". Each of them wields immense power with no rhyme or reason to it. None of them are per say 'unique' in their gifts, but certain quirks have developed over time. One might favor the blade over magic while the other might be the more powerful at spellweaving than another, but to them it does not matter who is better at what. What matters is the realms they control. Each of the Nine holds vast swathes of land across the world, and it is said that not a single inch of it remains unclaimed. And certainly this fact holds true, as wars have been fought over the trespassing of a sea boundary as often as one found on land. Yet for all their bickering among themselves, the Nine do take a pride in their ability to crush any human uprisings, and so they do not allow their heated words to turn away all attention from their tiny pawns. As wars became grueling campaigns of attrition, the Nine slowly came to realize that human armies were too frail. Daring not to risk their own lives over a stake of territory, one of the Nine - come to be known as the Loomweaver by humans - brought forth a race of monsters known as Oruthrall. Not one of these beasts stands under eight feet tall and bares a might set of horns along with their pale skin. These creatures were not created to do anything other than kill other living things, and so they did. At the dawn of the next of the Nine's wars of petty hatred, Loomweaver unleashed his creations upon his enemy. Within the day, the entirety of the opposing army had been crushed and even the Elysian himself was laid low by Loomweaver. As the Nine can never truly been slain, the Elysian retreated to his fortress to sit in agony for many years until the grievous wound finally closed. By then, the Oruthrall had already claimed most of his lands and were spreading to other regions of the world. Out of hatred for Loomweaver - not pity for the humans - the Elysian began to gather the other Nine to retaliate against Loomweaver, who was later repelled back to his homeland. Unfortunately for men, though perhaps fortunate for the Nine, the Oruthrall had not entirely been pushed back and continued to fester within the borders of the Nine's vast domains. Only the Elysian has refuted the use of such monsters, though let it be noted that his hold is the least powerful... Now, nearly one hundred years later, the Oruthrall still remains a plague to humanity, who prefers to keep them held at sword-point rather then let them run scot-free throughout their lands. As the Oruthrall developed their own society, the focus of their attention became centered around killing humans. If a Thrall - the term for youngling in their language - has not killed five humans in battle, he is not fit to be a man, no matter how old he might grow. In such a way, violence became unavoidable unless the Nine themselves were there to intervene. Even their influence, however, cannot keep the two groups from fighting. Often their armies must be set in waves, as the two groups simply refuse to cooperate with one another. Magic Magic does not exist to all but the Nine. Its forms, variations, and capabilities are all but unknown to humanity and Oruthrall alike. In reality, even the Nine are hard pressed to understand how this ability functions, merely that it works with great effect. Other than the pretense of the Nine, the world functions just as if it were medieval Europe. Lords rule the knights, the knights the peasants, and the peasants their animals. Some more developed regions, as found in the south, have surpassed martial capabilities to those of crafting and mercantile affairs as opposed to mere combat. In the north, this is replaced by warlords and an honor-bound way of fighting. Humanity remains humanity. I'm quite sure I haven't covered quite everything needed for the world, but that is not what this RP is about. The society only effects other facets of the world: not your job! Your job is to lie, make money, and keep the money without letting honor get in the way. You are Gentleman Jack's Bastards, the greatest conmen to ever leave the south, and perhaps the only ones as well. Gentleman Jack: off limits Tom: free access Katherine/Katrina: Both available, though one person may play both. Tom-Tom: free access Biter: off limits If you have any questions or requests, feel free to PM me any time, I'll try to get back, at the latest, the next day.