Crowfeeders

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Tarq
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Crowfeeders

Postby Tarq » Fri Nov 30, 2012 7:27 pm

You! You there. What ho, my lad? You look like a likely sort. A sword by your hip and a gleam in your eye; just the sort we’re looking for. Come, sit with us. Drink with us. D’you fear to drink with the dead? You’ll never get far with a sword if it’s the dead you fear.

Aye, there you go. Landlord! A mug of your finest for this young hero, and whatever bloody piss is cheapest for the rest of us. And don’t you dare tell us if it’s all the same thing.

I’m Emmett Fitzroy, my lad, Sergeant Emmett Fitzroy if you please, but you can call me Sergeant Fitz. Now I see you thinking, there must be a story behind that, and so there is! Fitzroy, a king’s bastard; the blood of Menethil flows in these veins, or did when it flowed at all, but it came to me on the wrong side of the sheets, begging your pardon. Just think, in a better life, you’d be drinking with a king. But, enough of what might have been – let’s speak of what might be.

There, drink hearty; no need to speak, I shall fill the silence. As I said, lad, it’s Sergeant Fitz, and Sergeant of what, you might ask? Well, once upon a time, when I was a prettier man, it was Sergeant of the Grand Army of Lordaeron; then it was Sergeant of the Royal Deathguard. But now, far better, it’s Sergeant of the Company of the Rook, the finest fucking swords money can buy between Ulduar and Red Crane Temple, if you’ll pardon my Orcish.

D’you see that tall man with the mustaches, across the room, sat a corner by his lonesome? Aye, Forsaken like myself. That’s the Captain, so best you salute! Craed Bloodcrow, a legend of a man; he built the Company from six ragged dead folk scuttling in Dalaran’s soiled bowels, up to this glory. Look close, my lad, d’you see his gloves? Aye, red; he took them from the hoard of the Black Flight, Nefarian himself, and he dips them in the blood of his foes to keep them bright and fresh. And well you might mark how bright they are.

Nay, nay, sit you still, my lad; the Captain is not by nature a talkative man, which is why he employs such as myself. He lets his legend do the talking. Here, have another round and I shall introduce you to the table. Landlord! The same all ‘round again!

There’s none more important to know than the quartermaster, and that’s this handsome bloke here, Brandal Orson. Aye, that’s right, Orson like the great Sir Gareth, rest his soul. Brandal’s his own brother, y’see, and while he inherited none of that knightly nature, when it comes to keeping us armed and armored, fed and quartered, and paid bloody well indeed, there’s none like Whoreson Orson. Why, whatever we need just seems to...fall right into his hands!

And this great grizzled bastard with the head of a wolf, why he’s my fellow Sergeant, Lucas Weargauth o’ Gilneas. He says I’m too soft on the troops, and mayhaps he’s right, but compared to old Lucas the Greymane his-fucking-self is a doting grandmother. Thirty-five years a soldier, since the Second bloody War, and if we curse his name at morning reveille, there’s no fellow we’d rather have holding our line when the battle starts.

Pay attention now, lad! Your eyes are falling out of your damned sockets, and you a living man – but ah, I see why that is. ‘Ware where you look, for that lovely piece of elf-flesh outranks you and me both. That’s Dame Nessebah Wrakespur, the Captain’s Second, and a woman to respect. Y’see, she never swore to the Narro or Nuura or whatever you name ‘em; she did a runner on Silvermoon and all, to make her own way in the world. It grates on her conscience fierce, which is why we call her Dame Joyful; yet as you can see, it’s not harmed her looks, and the Light still comes when she calls. Where from, I know not; I’m just a simple man o’ the sword like you.

Here, your drink’s near done. Landlord! Another!

Now this tall beast here is another good fellow to know; Eimoc Brokentree, chief medical officer o’ the Company. Skinniest damned tauren you ever did meet, isn’t he? Mock him not, for you’ll regret it twice; when you come crawling to his side with a sword-cut or a bad pox, he’ll mock you twice as bad and let you suffer! Ah hah, I jest, of course; Brokentree’d never let a companion fester in injury. Were you in the Company, that is.

Aye, think on it, my lad! Think hard! What better way for a young blade to earn his fortune than with Azeroth’s finest band of hire? The Crowfeeders, that’s what they call us, and we’ve feasted them across the world.

What’s that? The – faugh! Oh aye, I’ve heard that, the vile fucking calumny! The Dead Men, they say. A bloody disgrace. Your first standing order, should you join, should be to separate any man as repeats that shit to your face from his teeth! Captain Bloodcrow takes any man or woman to the ranks, with no regard to race nor creed. We don’t kneel to the Banshee Bitch, nor answer to any king or lord, unless they pay us what we ask for. And they all pay.

There, now, pardon my fit o’ temper. I don’t hold it against you. Sergeant Fitz is a proud man, that’s all; proud to have been here from the beginning. Let’s have another round, eh? Landl – good fellow, here already. I like this damned bar.

Now, then. You hear by our names that there’s fame in it, and you see by the shine of our steel and the cut of our garb that there’s fortune. What else...women, hnnh? Well, my lad, I am a gentleman by nature, but I am told that there are places where ladies of any type and kith can be had by a man with the coin, which of course we have. And on the job, well; don’t you repeat this scurrilous rumor, but young Emma Leir – we call her Milady – is known to be very friendly to the Company. She’s of a kind with me, of course, but you’d hardly know she didn't breathe to look at her. And she’s a fine damned arcanist to boot.

Say again, Orson? Aye, right, the new sniper is a right firecracker, Anrid of Ironforge. D’you like dwarven women, my lad? She could teach a man to, I have no doubt. Or...well, not to offend, but if you do fancy blokes there’s Voltharen the Minstrel. Terrible bloody singer, but good with a knife and a fine-looking man, as the blood elves tend to be. And there’s nothing wrong with that, long’s you don’t fancy me.

So there you have it! Fame and fortune and women too...and all for what? Danger? Faugh! The Company of the Rook spits on danger; the Captain’s a canny man, never taken us on a job he couldn’t find a way to win. Aye, that banner’s flown above many a victory, and more than me’s been here from the early days and can still lift a cup in toast. And even the unlucky few, mourn them as we may; they died good deaths, my lad, hero’s deaths. Better than sitting at home and growing old and gray, songs unsung and wine untasted.

Aye, you’re right, that is from a song. Slipped my mind entirely. Too many victories celebrated, I suppose!

Tell you what, my lad. You just sit here and finish that drink – hell, finish another one – and we’ll talk shop, tell a few stories, and you can decide for yourself if this is the life for you. It doesn’t even have to be the only one, neither; just look at your old mate Sergeant Fitz! It’s a hero’s lives in the Company of the Rook, that’s what they say.

Landlord! Another round, and make this lad’s a double!
Now hang me by this golden noose
'Cause I never been nothin' but your golden goose
Silver tongue don't fail me now
And I'll make my way back to you somehow

User avatar
Tarq
Posts: 1021
Joined: Wed Nov 12, 2008 2:12 am
Location: Wherever the trouble is.
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Re: Crowfeeders

Postby Tarq » Fri Nov 30, 2012 7:29 pm

((The Company of the Rook is an NPC mercenary band, some members of which may be familiar. I will probably be eventually using them in some plot stuff; in the meanwhile, consider them For Hire! What that means is, if you need some colorful muscle for RP stuff, drop me a line and I can send you profiles on a handful of cool mercenaries.

Yeah, I came up with like 30 of 'em, all with varying shades of personality or at least gimmickry. Have I mentioned that my job is boring as shit?))
Now hang me by this golden noose
'Cause I never been nothin' but your golden goose
Silver tongue don't fail me now
And I'll make my way back to you somehow


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