Some drafts I haven’t finished yet. Let me know what you think, if you’d like.
An NPC’s Perspective: Journeyman Parks
The dim light of the Red Corner honestly made me kind of sleepy. The receptionist, who I couldn’t remember the name of, filed papers on his desk. The shuffling of the papers was the only sound filling the small room.
The other two guards to this small Assassin base were stationed elsewhere; one outside, and one in the entrance of the small criminal town nearby, Blackwater Grotto. Every once in a while, one or two of the criminals came here to join the Syndicate, and they’d be designated as an Acolyte and sent off on a ship with some other Assassins to carry out a contract or something. A lucky few, myself included, would stay back here, and mostly lounge around and protect our hideout.
Besides us three journeymen, there would be one Assassin-rank Syndicate member in Architect Merlot’s room, just in case we needed to deal with invaders. Every so often, some Navy crew or hero would try to infiltrate the base, and all five of us, Merlot included, would have to take them out. We couldn’t risk the safety of this place, after all.
Other than in emergencies, anyone of lower rank than a Sponsor wasn’t allowed into the Architect’s room. I honestly didn’t care what he was doing in there, and being the main room’s guard, I got a peek inside every once in a while. It wasn’t anything special, just some more sofas and a contract board, plus some sort of warehouse room. I was content where I was, honestly. Out of the three spots I could have been selected for, I was in the best one. The Blackwater guard had to stand on a rickety wooden platform all day, while the one outside stood in the freezing cold weather of Whitesummit. I was glad I didn’t get set in those positions.
An NPC’s Perspective: Frye
People become criminals for many reasons. For money, for power, for adventure, or even out of insanity. I became a criminal for one specific reason: for fame.
My life at Palo was regular, yet boring. I worked at the docks, loading crates onto ships, helping out the shipwright with repairs, opening sealed chests, and more. Every day was practically the same, and after years of doing this, I figured I’d need a change from being some forgotten dockworker at Palo. So when I had finally saved enough, I bought a caravel, some life necessities, and left the island I known since I was young.
My goal was to head to Sailor’s Lodge and find work on a crew. I wasn’t the most knowledgeable about how to manage a ship, but working at Palo had given me good experience. I could at least help out with regular duties and whatnot, and it’d be more enjoyable work, to say the least.
It took several hours, but eventually, the sight of the island appeared. After staring at the expansive ocean and the wilderness of Harvest and Munera for so long, it was reassuring to know I hadn’t made a wrong turn along the way. Sailor’s was an interesting place, a wooden, man-made island with a large tavern square in the center. It’d be a nice place to stay a day or two, and eventually, find someone that’d hire me.
An NPC’s Perspective: Anderson
I leaned against a wall of a Ravennan house, watching the metalworker at her forge. Her continuous strikes of the anvil were fairly entertaining, more than just standing here at least. Groups of Bronze Legion soldiers walked by, their armor clinking as they passed. The country was still on high alert after the recent murder of King Calvus, and every city was stationed with tons of soldiers. A couple people passed by to check out the bounty boards, and citizens walked around the city, selling various items to the vendors set up around town. I bought a piece of bread from a passing baker, freshly made in Eastern Ravenna.
I had to wonder when I’d find a ship captain that’d be interested in hiring me. There had been a couple, but they had poorly equipped ships, too risky for my liking. Of course, like most deckhands, I highly doubted I’d find someone; even though the Navy’s deckhand registration had deemed me the rank of “Master Deckhand”, that just meant the lesser captains would be deterred from attempting to hire me.
I had worked on ships for two decades now, and my hair was slightly grey from age. Of course, I was far from wanting to give up my seafaring life. For years, I worked many odd jobs helping out at shipyards or ships themselves, and when I finally registered as a deckhand, even the Navy was impressed with how well I could manage a ship. Of course, my flaw was with combat; I could barely fight off a marine in the mock duel. And so, I relegated myself to being a helpful crew member, someone that could manage the ship with ease, and kept myself out of confrontations with pirates and other hostilities.
- Parks
- Frye
- Anderson
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