forum Dystopian Fantasy RP aw yeah (Private)

Started May 02, 2018 by @Young-Dusty-the-Monarch-of-Dusteria group

tune

"Okay, thanks for all the help Ma'am! Make sure to head inside before it starts really pouring with rain." Tanrial gave her a small wave before peering over Bernon's shoulder to look at the 'brochure.'

According to the writing, it seemed that the map-maker's house was on the far side of the village, a little apart from the other houses. Bernon set off down the road, still examining his purchase. "Look at the detail here. Can you imagine how much a thing like this would have cost back in the old days, before money lost half its value?"
"Yeah," Mike grumbled. "About a dime. Who makes a map of a tiny little place like this? After today, the thing is useless. I can't believe you bought one."
"Well I think it's sweet that she cares so much," Bernon retorted. "Although, I agree that this village is really weird. I wonder what happened here that was so special……"

"Me too. Hey, didn't that woman say her son does tours around here?" Tanrial thought for a moment, "Yeah, yeah she did! Maybe we could get a tour from him and we could find out about why this place is such a 'historical landmark.'"

Mike groaned. "Oh for–"
"Yeah, good idea!" Bernon said, slowing. "Let's see if we can find that guy." He spotted a very tall man walking by with a shovel over his shoulder and waved at him. "Excuse me sir, do you know where we can find the tour guide of this town?"
The man looked over at them darkly for a second, then sighed and turned to slope over to them. "You're in luck," he intoned darkly. "Gunnar the tour guide, that's me." He glanced at the sky, which was still shedding rain, then back at them with a resigned expression. "Would you like the whole tour, or would you rather just skip to the interesting part and call it done there?"

(Mike is a whole ass mood and I’m here for it)
“Just the interesting part,” Tanrial slopped her hand sin her pockets and shrugged, “I don’t think we’d like to spend too much time in the rain and I don’t think you do, too.”

(hahaha same XD)
"Got that right," Gunnar grumbled, turning and leading them towards the center of town. "So, the story of Den Ys goes like this: two hundred years ago or something like that, everything here was like a paradise. It was the old days, you know, before all the bad stuff happened. Except then it did happen. The town that used to stand here, it was attacked mercilessly by fire beasts. Ever met one?"

(He is also my current mood and that makes him even more relatable lmao)
“Well…. I mean… yeeeeah?”

(ahaha we've all been there at some point ^^; )
Gunnar shook his head. "A whole army of them burned the town for ten days and nights. Countless were killed. In fact, the only ones that managed to survive…" He halted outside the large square building they'd seen from the hill. "…took refuge here."
Bernon peered at the strange place. "What is it?"
"We don't know. That was generations ago, and nobody thought to record the building's original use. But it withstood the barrage of fire with barely a scratch, and after ten days the beasts gave up and moved on. The survivors started a new village in the ruins, and in honor of their savior they named the village after the building." Gunnar pointed at a very, very weathered sign standing nearby, covered in holes and scorch marks. The only legible letters were the red and yellow D-E-N Y-S with a blotch through the middle.
Mike narrowed his eyes as he studied it. "And that whole story is true?"
"As true as when my mother told it to me," Gunnar droned. "Want to step inside and have a look around?"

"I don't see why not," Again, Tanrial shrugged, "We have a little time to kill, don't we?"

"A very small amount," Mike muttered, but Bernon was already marching cheerfully towards the front door. Gunnar lengthened his stride to get the door for them.
"It's the town hall these days," he said as they entered. "We're not sure what it used to be for, but the main room is great for village meetings. It's even got a kitchen in back that…..partially works."
The main room was large, with a spacious area full of mismatched chairs on one side and strange artifacts mounted on every bit of wall-space that wasn't a window. There were metal signs that no longer made any sense, large statues of long-necked pink birds, and rows upon rows of rectangular plastic shells decorated in countless colorful patterns. Near the front of the room, a large desk blocked the way to an inner room, and a twenty-year old girl sat behind the desk, looking incredibly bored. As they entered, she straightened up and grinned widely at them. "Welcome to the Den Ys town hall and please don't touch anything!"
"My cousin," Gunnar said, closing the door. "She's town secretary."
The girl's head whipped around and she glared at him. "Gunnar, I told you not to actually bring tourists inside the building!" she hissed. "This is an important place and I'm busy!"
"No you're not." Gunnar stared with weary despair out the window. "Nobody's busy in this forsaken place. We're all just standing around…waiting to die…..and we might as well torture each other while we wait."
His cousin made a noise of frustration and turned back to Tanrial with a very bright smile. "Just ignore him, he's always like that. I'm Florie, nice to meet you all."

Tanrial gave her a two fingered salute in return, “Nice to meet you too, Florie. I’m Tanrial and these are my friends, Mike and Bernon.” She pointed to each.

"Hello," Bernon said, waving. Mike gave Florie a polite nod and went back to examining the room's decorations. "Does anyone else work here?" he asked after a minute.
"Oh yes," Florie said, stretching and cracking her knuckles. "Like half the village has a job here, actually. The mayor himself almost never leaves his house, but we drag him out sometimes on important days like Junk-Trading Day and the first day of Peckerball Season." She put her elbows on the desk and rested her chin in her hands. "So what brings you three here to our humble town, anyway? Where are you from?"

"We're currently staying at another village not too far from here. We've had to deal with some… trouble the past couple days but luckily it's mostly been dealt with. We heard there was a market round here and needed some new supplies before we head on our way."

"Oh, the market, huh? Yeah, it'll open all the way pretty soon." She paused, then squinted curiously at them. "What kind of trouble exactly? Becaaauuuse nobody's been over to pick up their cow milk and beef for a couple days. It's gonna spoil."
Mike frowned. "Who do you trade milk and beef to?"
"We didn't trade it, we sold it for a lot of money. Some rich recluse near here used to send for it all the time, but he's late. You guys wouldn't have any idea what happened, would you?"

Tanrial rubbed at her neck and smiled sheepishly, "Maybe. It's a long story but I wouldn't be expecting him for a while, sorry."

Florie slammed her fist on the table, making Gunnar jump. "But they were the best paying customers we've ever had! They were the only reason we could afford a herd of cows in the first place, and now you'r saying their patronage is suspended? Indefinitely?"
Bernon spoke up with concern. "Listen, we're sorry that you've lost some revenue over all this, but that rich guy was a madman who was plotting to take over the world! We couldn't just let him do whatever he wanted. Maybe the village we come from would like to trade with you? I bet they'd love some more variety in their diets, and even if they couldn't pay as much, they could probably make it worth your while."
Florie did not look appeased. "Does that village have the manpower to help us defend our herd from bandits? That 'madman' you offed gave us soldiers and weapons of our own, but the soldiers are gone now and our guns will be useless soon if we can't get more ammo for them!"
Bernon straightened excitedly. "There's where you're in luck! I can teach you how to make your own bullets!"
Florie blinked. "You can?"
"Yeah! This guy I knew taught me how, it's really easy! You have lots of metal around here, right?"
"Sure….there's junk everywhere in the woods."
"And do you have a smithy?"
"We have a community workshed with a big fire and some tools."
"Close enough." Bernon grinned proudly. "Once you know how to make bullets, you'll never run out and you can protect your cows all by yourself!"
Mike watched them talk for a minute, then turned to Tanrial. "Time's wasting. Let's you and me go find the map-maker while he irons out the details, okay?"

She nodded, "Probably a good idea. We might have to drag Bernon out of here later, though."

"Most likely." Mike made for the door and pulled it open. "Hey Bern, we're gonna keep shopping. You catch up later, alright?"
"Oh, uh, sure," Bernon said, busy working out some calculations at Florie's desk. "See you in a bit. Good luck."

"Right back at you." She smiled before the two left the building. It was spitting with rain, clearly holding off from the proper down pour a little while longer. Thunder crashed loudly before it quieted down after a few moments.

Mike trudged along the muddy road towards the edge of the village. "I guess we'll act like the weather's totally normal, like everybody else is. At least there's no wind or lightning….but I still hope it lets up before we have to walk back to the lake."

Tanrial nodded, jumping in a small puddle in her path, “I’m not so much worried about the rain, more the lightning. Let’s pray if it does rain on the way back it’s not too heavy.”

"Yeah." Mike glanced over to the left. "Oh hey, that looks like something."
A small house sat slightly apart from the others. A warm glow came from the windows, and a small sign out front read: "Professional Maps and Diagrams, Inquire Within".
Mike stopped and turned towards the front door. "Looks like someone's home. Shall we?"

"Well, it's the only lead we have and it looks promising so…" She walked to the door, pushing it open slowly and the tinkle of a bell rang through the quiet space as they entered.

They were in a room that seemed to take up the entire ground floor of the house, but due to the clutter it still felt small. A fireplace in the corner dimly illuminated everything, and it was surprisingly warm. Every surface was piled with tools of the trade–paper mostly, but also pens, inks, paints, notebooks, rulers, and even materials for leather-working on one of the tables. A ladder in the corner must have led up to a loft with the house's kitchen and bedroom in it, because there was no room for either down here.
Sitting at a very large desk on their right, deeply engrossed in his work, was a fifty-something man with greying hair in a ponytail and pale, intelligent eyes. He was carefully inking something, and didn't look up as they entered.
"If you're looking for shelter from the rain," he said in a mild, slightly accented voice. "I believe it has just now stopped."
Mike frowned, then carefully opened the door and peeked outside. Strangely enough, the rain, which had been coming down strongly a moment before, was now completely gone. Mike glanced at the sky in confusion, then back at the older man. "Uh….are you Torres? The map-maker?"
The man smiled and turned his chair to face them. "That I am. Sorry for my lack of a proper greeting, I was focusing rather hard on my work. Zachary Torres, at your service. And you are?"

(I claps am claps so claps done claps with claps my claps school claps. Please kashoot me so I don’t have to deal with it anymore)
Tanrial smiled politely, stepping further into the somehow comforting space, “This is Mike and I’m Tanrial. We’re from outta town and in need of your services. Do you happen to have a map of the country we could buy?”