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BatMUD Forums > Guilds.sabres > Re: Rep and tasks

 
 
#1
10 Aug 2015 09:59
 
 
Had an idea about a rep system for Sabres.. called Grandstanding.
a combat skill that, once triggered.. gives you an effect like.. You deftly
block the dark knights attacks and casually tweak his nose..

or skillfully dodging an attack, while slapping your foes backside with the
flat of your sabre :)

To what purpose? Maybe rep milestones will reward you with Sabre points.
just a thought.

I also was killing pirates the other day and somehow it struck me that it
seemed like a particularly sabre.. thing to do. Raiding pirate ships,
stealing booty, clashing blade to blade with sailors on a blood stained
deck.

Which led me to thinking of tasks for Sabres. Maybe a task to down a pirate
ship of each class. Which led to thinking about tasks in general for
sabres.. drink 100 types of alcohol. etc..

In that the details in a guild are what keep me in them.

Thanks for reading.

 
Rating:
1
Votes:
1
 
 
Roak
181d, 19h, 35m, 26s old
Level:
55
 
 
#2
13 Aug 2015 04:11
 
 
What.. is that? " Alfonse asked, with clear disdain

The young sabre abashedly looked at his blade, carelessly held by the
clearly displeased smith.

"My sword? I thought you'd need it to fit me for one of your fine
scabbards." he replied.. with increasing anxiety.

Alfonse sighed dramatically, with dismay

"There's a spider on it. What.. did you just pick it up off the floor of
some filthy dungeon and think.. oh. this will do?"

increasingly embarassed, the young blade replied
" well actually it was sold to me and it was quite reason-.."

"CHeaP?" Thundered Alfonse "WHat??!? did you buy them on sale? 2 for the price
of 1???!?!? "

The Sabre carefully shifted his body to hide the 2nd blade, sitting at his
back. "Shouldn't the skill of th--"

"You are a gentleman of quality sir!" shouted Alfonse " wielding this
filthy pig-sticker is an offense to the senses!!! Your weapon should
reflect the fine sensibilities of the guild of Shadow Sabres!! Your blade
should be an extension of your art!! "

Alfonse laid the spider-sabre down and turned from the red-faced young
guildmember. He reached under the counter to pull out a shadow-cloaked
rapier, crafted from darksteel, encrusted with yellow diamonds.. A truly
beautiful weapon.

" This was the last blade of quality I crafted. " Alfonse said.. his temper
replaced with sombre reflection. " A blade befitting a master of the art
of fencing. There have been many many able warriors passing through these
halls throughout the years but i've yet to find someone who has inspired
me enough to part with my treasure."

"Could i perhaps buy th-"

"OUT!! " Thundered Alfonse..

 
 
 
Roak
182d, 13h, 16m, 6s old
Level:
55
 
 
#3
14 Aug 2015 06:07
 
 
Roak tentatively peered into the smithy
"Alfonse? Sir? Could i perhaps recover my blade? If it's not too much
trouble ?"

The smith looked up from his work at the forge and set his hammer down.
He crossed the room and removed his gloves.. doing nothing to set the young
Sabre at ease. Roak had made his way into the room but upon being confronted
with the smith, He seemed on the verge of fleeing. Alfonse considered him for a
silent moment.. then finally said

"Sir.. I.. beg your pardon. I was wholly not myself the other day. I'll
certainly return your weapon, with apologies"

So saying, Alfonse turned, and fetched Roak's spider sabre from the back
room. He handed back the weapon and after a curt nod, turned back to his
work at the forge.

"Sir? could i--"

Roak trailed off as the smith looked up, and caught his
eye. Alfonse considered him for a long moment and then finally with a
sigh.. left the room. Momentarily, he returned with the darksteel blade and
laid it across the sales counter. Roak eyed the blade covetously.

"Take it lad "

Alfonse said quietly.. Roak looked up, startled. Alfonse looked down, not
meeting his gaze and said again.

"Pick it up...."

Roak reached forward hesitantly... eyeing the smith warily. His hand came
close to the blade but as he tried to close his hand around the hilt.. it
shifted from his grasp.

"It moved!"

He took a step back involuntarily from the weapon and watched it carefully.
Nothing seemed unusual about it, but when he had tried to pick it up, the blade
had darkened subtly and avoided him.

After a long moment, he looked up at Alfonse to see the smith watching him
carefully.

" Indeed, there are no sabres in these halls worthy of my blades. Though
it's hardly the fault of anyone within the guild. Much of the original
order of Shadow Sabres has been lost throughout the years... for good
reason. I came back to the guild to judge the state of affairs and the
merit of the gentlemen within and i find them.. lacking. "

"Lacking how? " asked Roak " There is no other guild who trains so ably in the
finer arts of swordplay."

Alfonse nodded.

"True enough. The swordplay taught is still among the best guilds in the
realm but the Shadow Sabres used to stand against Chaos. They used to be a
force for Order within the lands. There is still a fair amount of that left in
the guilds beliefs but it is.. but a shadow of their former glory. Now chaos is
everywhere you look.. but the sabres are content to roust an orc
or two and be done with it. "

Alfonse shook his head sadly.

"In times past, the Sabres were.. so much more.. "

Alfonse trailed off.. lost in thought. After a moment, he reached out and
picked up the darksteel blade. It shifted in his grip but he tightened his fist
and the blade became quiescent.

"In times past, men.. could control their darker nature "

Alfonse said quietly.. almost to himself.

 
Rating:
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Votes:
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Roak
182d, 17h, 32m, 15s old
Level:
55
 
 
#4
16 Aug 2015 11:16
 
 
Roak was sweating profusely.

He was tired, but worked at controlling his breathing. Wheezing like a
common labourer would be.. unseemly. He sized up Delveling and was less
than enthused to see him suffering not at all. In fact, He wore an
infuriating smile and held his blade with a loose disregard. Delveling
raised an eyebrow and brought his weapon to the ready.

"Again sir?"

He asked. Roak returned a curt nod and fell into position. Mentally
settling himself, he advanced on the attack. But after a short flurry of
blows, Roak found himself sprawled on the floor. Delveling had swatted
away his strikes and then pressed the attack until Roak was forced to
retreat.

"What.?? God's teeth. again?"

grumbled Roak, once he had breath to speak. He got to his feet and
looked for his wooden sword. Before he could retrieve it.. Delveling
spoke up from behind him.

" You must CHOOSE to retreat.. Don't let me force you to it. If you
show your enemy weakness, they will take advantage. "

Delveling's stern words were softened with an easy smile. Roak found
his frustration disappearing. He turned to face the man and saw that
he had retrieved his hat, which also had been lost in the fall.

" Mustn't lose your.. hat. yes? "

Roak took it from him and found himself smiling in return. He
carefully set it on his head, then dusted himself off.

" Your wordplay needs work Delveling.. "

Grumbled Roak, though he smiled as he said it. Delveling
gasped in feigned shock.

"Rude! how rude... I was going to offer to buy the first drink but
I think the honour falls to you now.. and i have a refined palate"

Delveling was already racking his sword and walking towards the door.
Roak let his smile slip a bit. Drinking would turn into an all night
affair to be certain. Yet another area where he seemed unable to
keep up with his fellow guild members.

" I think I.. THat is I'll remain here for a bit.. and practice..
my... retreating? "

he finished feebly. Delveling stopped at the door and turned. His
nonchalance was replaced with a momentary look of concern but after
a second, he shrugged and nodded.

" As you like Roak. Catch us up if you change your mind... Ah.
not like you to leave your smithy Alfonse."

Roak had already turned back to the training salon. But upon hearing
the smiths name, he looked back in surprise. Delveling had gone but
Alfonse stood in his place, leaning in the doorway. Roak waited
for the smith to say something but the man continued to stand quietly
watching.

Now completely ill at ease, Roak wanted nothing more than to head back
to his chambers but the smith blocked the exit. He was startled when
the Smith suddenly started speaking.

"I find it astounding that so much care can go into your wardrobe and
you so woefully neglect to find a good pair of boots. "

Roak looked down at his feet in confusion. He clothed himself with the
same pride that all sabres took in their appearance. He started forming
a reply, when Alfonse continued.

" Bad footwear leads to bad footwork.. "

Alfonse chuckled to himself.

"I can't say that without bringing Fabien to mind. Truly, one of the
best Sabres to grace the halls.

The smith seemed lost in recollection. When he looked up, he noticed
Roaks interest and nodded to himself.

"Fabien was a leather worker who was admitted to the Sabres in the
early years. He learned swordplay from the instructors but ended
up teaching them as much about the importance of balance, footwork
and poise. I swear the man could fight on the head of a pin."

He became our teacher, training us in dancing, and acrobatics. He stole
our boots and replaced them with those of his own design. fighting
boots, he called them. Soft leather with reinforced toes for lunging.
In no time at all, we were bringing back animal skins and begging him
to replace them when they'd worn out. "

Alfonse sighed.

"I try not to notice how utilitarian all the teaching is now. There's a
fluidity and grace that just isn't there anymore.

Alfonse turned and left.

 
Rating:
2
Votes:
2
 
 
Roak
183d, 22h, 5m, 29s old
Level:
55
 
 
#5
23 Aug 2015 11:35
 
 
Roak contemplated his umbrella.

It was a fine umbrella, of that, there could be no doubt. It seemed sturdy,
functional and a very pleasing shade of blue. It had been a hard choice
between the blanket and the umbrella but as he found rain spoiled his
mood more than anything else, he had finally opted to do without a
blanket for now.

Orcs had invaded Lorenchia, and he had lept to the defense of the city. Of
all the Sabres, he had distinguished himself by being the one to block
their invading hole... or had it been Rilynt'tar

At any rate, he had decided that all this hard work deserved a reward and
he now held it in his hands. He stared at his umbrella with a dissatisfied
frown. Experimentally, he tried a couple thrusting attacks with his
umbrella and his frown deepened.

His thoughts returned to Alfonse and the half dozen times he had run into
him since the smiths first explosive outburst. Alfonse had spoken of many
things since that day, but he seemed to deliberately avoid the subject of
the darksteel sabre.

It vexed him.

Tossing his umbrella onto his bed, he went to his desk and pulled out his
notes. Alsonse's stories had offered pieces of the Sabres history, but it
was a chaotic mess. He pulled out the last page that had been written,
and reread it.

The Sabres had been a force to be reckoned with between the continents as
well as upon them. In their glory days, high ranking Sabres would sail
out upon the guild's frigates and clear the waters of pirates. There
were many Sabres who gained great reputation from removing the plague
of the seas. The glory went to the guild, not to the captain but there
was still pride among Sabres. Alfonse had described fierce battles he
had fought at sea, and the shame he had felt at losing the guild ship
during one unfortunate encounter.

Roak thought back to Alfonse's exact words.

" It was hardly my fault. We had been tracking a pirate swiftship and
were ready to board her when suddenly, we were ambushed. We tried to run
but in no time at all, we were sinking. We abandoned ship, and made our
way home. The guild master was understanding but I could tell I had let
him down. He had said that the guild had to appear strong on the waters.
It took him a couple weeks before he allowed me to captain again."

Roak shook his head in disbelief. Hard to think the guild had been
powerful enough to have ships of its own. Still, he couldn't help
but imagine how striking he'd look at the ship's wheel, mustache
blowing in the wind.

He smiled at the thought.

** I have a rough history of Sabres jotted down. Musing about the idea
of putting it into a bards play which i've been avoiding writing.**

 
Rating:
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Votes:
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Roak
187d, 3h, 33m, 4s old
Level:
55
 
 
#6
16 Sep 2015 23:09
 
 
"What were the glory days of the guild like Alfonse?"

asked Roak. The two sat in the guild common room, enjoying a slice of
some poppy seed confection that Alfonse had specially requested from a
baker friend of his. In his magnanimity, he had decided to share the
delight with Roak. Alfonse munched thoughtfully on the moist cake and
finally replied

" Hardly glorious, though there were certainly days of triumph. There
always seems to be some new threat to the realms. The pirates of old were
much more organized than those that plague the waters these days. Imagine
how dangerous the pirates that plague the waters would be if they worked in
force? In the past, A Pirate Lord would rule a number of ships and raid
themajor cities. We'd scramble to fend them off but more often than not,
they'd raid the shops, kill the owners and make off with the wares."

Roak seemed to have a hard time imagining it. Pirates working together?

"Surely a navy warship could run them off? how much trouble could a ship
or two be?"

Alfonse chuckled

" One or two aren't a problem but an even dozen? and their ships are hardly
a simple swiftship or two. These were dark times. They'd fire cannon upon
the city from the bay to keep the guard occupied and in no time at all
they'd have what they want. They were a threat indeed but hardly the worst"

Roak raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Alfonse continued.

"The mage guilds these days do a fine job of taking the young and ambitious
and molding them, But more important, they control them. They are taught
powerful magics but also shown the obligations of not abusing this power.
Also, the guild arch mages will discipline those who act without thought"

Alfonse smiled, Roak seemed uncertain of what he was trying to say.

"Magic is power and power must have limits. Guilds provide those limits. "
Before the guilds took such an active role in training the new mages,
other forces tempted and bent them to their ways. "

Roak nodded in understanding.

"Such as? you make it sound like their were cabals of sorcerors on every
street corner. Surely things weren't so bad? "

Alfonse's features took on a grim cast.

"We fought a constant war with the blood mages. An order of magicians who
had no capacity to store mana, so they pulled it from the flesh of others
and their very own skin. They were covered in scars, We thought it was a
mark of rank but later found that self mutilation somehow amplified their
power. Indeed, the most disfigured mages we fought were the most fearsome. "
" They would torture and bleed innocents. We'd find pools of spring water
filled with sacrifices, stained red with all the blood spilled within them.
They would use it as a source of power, tapping into the suffering somehow
and changing it into mana."

Roak sobered with the Smith's dark words. His cake had been set aside as
he listened to the dark words.

"Yes, they were horrible. If that wasn't enough, they were blood drinkers
as well. Lips stained, always seeking power that they weren't given
naturally in life. "

Alfonse's words quieted until he finally stopped speaking. Roak realized
he had been holding his breath and let it out.

"Gods. I'd never heard the like! Did the Sabres manage to eradicate them
entirely? It's hard to fathom a group so.. "

Roak's words dwindled off. Alfonse was looking pensively into the distance,
seemingly unaware of his surroundings. He could almost see the memories
of past battles replaying in his lost eyes. Being so focused on the smith,
he caught the last words

"They were hardly the worst."

 
 
 
Roak
200d, 7h, 24m, 38s old
Level:
56
 
 
#8
08 Mar 2017 06:13
 
 
I had this all planned out.. nice elaborate story but then a sudden shiny
object distracted me. For closure i'll just roughly flesh out the idea i had
behind the origin of the Sabres.

A remote inn on the edge of a large city (skeep?) ends up attracting the
fringe elements of the noble families. Bastard children, eccentric uncles
pretty much anyone with a noble tie who is trying to avoid the city proper.

A more machiavellian family sends a 3rd son to the inn to ferret out secrets
and to encourage debauchery. He initially provides the innkeeper with support
but eventually takes over the inn and creates a gentlemans club designed to
increase his families hold on these figures through blackmail and such.

In so doing, He finds he excels at bringing out the worst in others..
encouraging vices and such. Enough to attract the interest of one of the
lesser beings of chaos. a demi-god of corruption.

On the face of it, it was a sophisticated club for gentleman but behind
closed doors, the excesses became more and more debased. Lucatiel (3rd son)
brought sword fighting into his flock and encouraged fights between his
followers and the local villagers. Ultimately villagers started going
missing.

The power he held over others was intoxicating but it wasn't enough. By
chance, Lucatiel met a disinherited merchants son with enough magical
experience to be dangerous He was promised that through blood rituals,
He could focus his darker nature and channel it into a blade forged of
darksteel.

The timing was suspicious, but Lucatiel was blinded by his greed for more
power. Indeed, the chaos god had orchestrated the meeting and schemed to
bring this bunch of depraved nobles into his power as chaos-warriors.

The ritual was an elaborate one. In it, the warrior was to bring forth
his own reflection and slay him.. letting his life's blood seep into \
the darksteel blade. Blood magic of the worst kind.. In defeating oneself,
the warrior would amplify the worst of his nature..

In preperation.. the group practiced daily with sabres.. the blade in
fashion at the time.

But Chaos doesnt operate unchecked.

Lucatiel had a chance encounter with a passing nobleman of undetermined
ancestry who remarked upon the rather drab nature of his prominently
displayed sabre. The gentleman displayed his own weapon, a rare thing of
excess.. covered in jewels.

After they parted ways, Lucatiel decided that his group could do no less
and each warrior had his sword set with stones of great wealth.

Once again he had been manipulated, The gems embedded in the swords acted
as an embodiment of order. When the ritual took place, they indeed channeled
the worst of the warriors but contained it within the gems. The warriors
became different people. The blades focused their darker nature and
amplified it but removed it from them.

or something like that.. you get the idea. The blades contain whatever
was the greatest sin the wielder had. Wrath,greed etc..

Was also thinking that within the ritual.. the sabre had to kill his clone
to imbue the blade with power. or some such..

also. the gems have to be replaced as they lose their power. etc

The group then becomes the shadow sabres of legend.. a force for order.
they become known for acts of heroism etc but the cheated god of chaos
sets about bringing them down and eventually finds a way to turn the blades
back on the wielders. The Sabres end up fighting themselves and the order
falls back into legend..

the current incarnation of it is bits and pieces from what used to be.

 
 
 
Roak
344d, 23h, 25m, 33s old
Level:
98