Old Character Histories Oct 24, 2018 8:52:42 GMT -5 pinkerdlu, yourvisiongoesblack, and 1 more like this
Post by thesandlady on Oct 24, 2018 8:52:42 GMT -5
After reading another thread about Boopsie Borsail and then reading one of his histories I was prompted to start this thread. Enjoy.
Lord Templar Boopsie Borsail
Olive-tone skin oiled to perfected smoothness plumps all about this man's body. His frame is light and soft, while his posture is severely maintained. Burnt-black hair is pulled austerely from his face. The smooth crown of his head begins at a prominent widows peak and sharply angled brows. His hair is intricately woven into detailed patterns which trail to the middle of his back. The strands are elaborately decorated with beads and strips of ostentatiously bright silken cloth. Eyes the color of silt-stormed skies stare hawkishly down the edges of a sharp, straight nose that maintains a prominent hook as it strikes out from the center of his face.
The olive-skinned templar begins, in tatlum:
Boopsiefiel. I don't find it to be an undignified name. Even the short form that was so lovingly passed to me from my beloved mum is not something that I find odd in any way. "Boopsie" was quite the fashion of the day when I was born. Besides, it is not the job of a templar of noble blood to cater to the unfashionable whims of the populace. The style of the nobility is far more pertinent as the ruling hand.
The cruelty that has been necessarily imposed upon the lower class has made them callous and stupid. Their failure to see the true virtues of a wealthy life is not of my concern, and I will not be held to informing mere beasts of burden about the fashion to which I owe my lifestyle. After all, were they not the ones to pain and toil, who else would do such a thing and provide for the city? Certainly, you do not expect it of me... broken nails and sunburnt skin is so.. blasee. It went out with the so-called 'rugged look' and Jumbeverlor's stint of championship in the arena. Whyever anyone would wish to pattern their styles after a mul is totally beyond me....
The common tramps and their mullish little men flaunt their sun-bleached hair and darkened and sweat-laden skin as though the concept of their labor is somewhat noble. They trounce about like so much vermin, pushing their obviously used wares upon any who will watch with drunken eye and spice-laden tongue. It's quite disgusting and I cannot fathom its emulation in the high-bred classes of proper society. It hasn't a place.
But the days of benefits and social gatherings grow long, the necessary politics of this life are intricate and subtle enough to keep a man's mind sharp, yet they are seldom provocative to the will of true poets and heroes and the grand wiles of legends. Such things are foolish and quite often poorly bexecuted by the bards who fabricate their like. What I seek in this life is simple enough... A life of high fashion and firm rule separate of the follied hopes of heroism and great poetics. I do not believe in them, and indulging in fantasy takes far too much of my precious and noble time.
Summary and commentary by the player:
Lord Boopsie is quite the snob. High society interests him the most, in knowing who is doing what and how and why, as long as it is the blue-bloods and templars.... commoners are beasts and tools—nothing more. He seeks to advance himself in his ranks as it is fashionable and maintain his reputation and appearance while keeping law as it suits him best and most fashionably.
He is somewhat shallow, apathetic to causes which are not his own, and quite cruel when it suits him.
I realize that the name is somewhat ridiculous. It is meant to be. Please do not take that to mean that this character is doomed to frivolity or not to be taken seriously by the player. The name, in its ridiculousness is one of the things that flavor this character to make him what he is. Similarly to having a Paige (male) or a Chelsea (also male) or a Ralf (female and not abbreviated of Ralfina or whatever), I would like to consider this templar as being the recipient of sincerely bad luck attributed to a societal whim (or perhaps just a very stupid mother). The name does not bother him, as he has raised to a position of respect. My OOC goal is to see if I can get this seemingly ridiculous fop to garner some respect and maybe even some fear from the people he works with as well as the people he works against.
the scarred, buff mul says, in sirihish:
"Whatever you say, /Lord/ Boopsie.."
the scarred, buff mul flashes the darkly tanned man a grin.
the olive-skinned templar says, in sirihish:
"Oh? and what is your name, mul?"
the scarred, buff mul scowls and looks at the olive-skinned templar before replying.
the scarred, buff mul says, in sirihish:
the olive-skinned templar grimaces in distaste.
the olive-skinned templar says, in sirihish:
"How blase... Guards!"
Boopsie was the consummate flamer templar. The favorite emote was something along the lines of "the olive-skinned templar lets his hand hang limp at the wrist" often compounded with a careless and dainty wave of his hand to clear a wisp of hair from his face.
You worried when you said something and he narrowed his eyes at you. Normally, he would not say anything or note you, but he'd hire someone to kill you later. He spent his spare time in the tower playing crystal glasses filled with conjured water and contemplating philosophy of the Highlord's magick. As a Borsail, consorting with the common populace really didn't hold much appeal.
But, when he had to do it, it was most often with nobility or his guardsmen, and occasionally a merchant or another.
To start Chronologically, I must begin with Battling it out with the Blue Robes. When Boopsie was a blue robe, he was blue robes with Vashtem, and Lassiter. There might have been one more, but I don't think he lasted very long, or else Ijust had nothing to do with him. Octavian and [Garrick Kasix] were the Red robes at the time. Garrick used to like to sit in the tavern with Boopsie (the consummate brown-noser) and get Boopsie to say his name. At which point, Garrick would have no end of mirth to snickering about the name behind his hand.
Well, needless to say, Garrick had adopted me as a favorite of sorts. The sort of favorite one has for entertainment rather than for functionality, of course. The Oash nobles at the time (I can't remember his name, but it was long - designed so that it wouldn't rhyme with anything, from what I recall - vaguely insane guy) kept writing snide songs and selling them to bards and getting the bards to anonymously sing them about Boopsie and run and hide (posted on the boards). They were all silly plays on Boopsie's name or character.
Boopsie's full name was something ridiculous. Like Boopsiefiel Saliemind Foo Bar Bat Borsail. I could never remember the whole damned name. I had it written on a post-it note and affixed to my monitor. Truth be told, I think it changed at least three times before I actually wrote the damned thing down or else asked for it to be added into my character keywords for reference.
Anyway, shortly thereafter, Garrick disappeared. It was rumored that Oash had gotten him, but Octavian then ascended to the top of the templar hierarchy. It was an outrage to all of the rest of us, Vashtem most specifically. Octavian was the biggest screw up of a templar in all our eyes, as he had consented to marry a commoner, etc etc. So we plotted and plotted, and we could not come up with a way to kill his ass. Vashtem had all the shady contacts, but no one was willing to go after a red robe. I had all the noble contacts, but Borsail was under-represented at that time. Lassiter was just sort of following along trying to see what we'd do.
Then one day a black robe appeared to me and endowed me with flamestrike. I think, at this point, the imms were getting sick of Octavian, too, and realized that none of the current blue robes were competent enough on their own to engineer his demise without help. I spent most of my time woefully poor as I had not contrived the means to fund myself.
You see, most people weren't willing to bribe anyone named "Boopsie" because they didn't take him seriously. There was a lot of pressure during the time to get players to come BACK into Allanak because prior regimes of Templars had been too harsh on the commoners, and they had all opted instead to play in Luir's or Tuluk.
So, I developed the walking 1040EZ Tax form while I formulated a plan to get Octavian alone. I'd walk down the streets asking people how much income they claimed, how many dependants they had, etc. While most looked confused, they played along, because it would definitely arouse my ire if they played stupid. It was funny at the time.
Octavian, stupid as he was, wasn't stupid enough to go anywhere alone with me, strangely. So, I conned Lassiter in on my plan. Lassiter, the guileless one, couldn't possibly be against Octavian, so we set up a meeting with Octavian at his estate together. When the gates were locked, I flamestriked him to death as Lassiter held him off with a sword. Three later, and Octavian was dead.
It got a "ding dong the witch is dead!" from Azroen who was just happy to be done with it. Then Lassiter ended up dead, I got promoted to Red Robe, and the new generation of Blue Robes became Boopsie's to deal with. Also, Boopsie inherited Octavian's manor and re-decorated it in pleasure silks, a hammock instead of a bed, lots of floor cushions, and some extremely lewd artwork which he kept on shelves. They always got startled looks from whoever came near there, which was fairly amusing to me.
On to Vatriala. Fale was run by a commoner woman at that point, as the head of Fale had died. They were, I believe, the only active noble house other than Oash at the time, and they mostly centered around having parties. Lots of parties. Boopsie had figured out that these parties were thinly veiled meetings for espionage or other information trading, so made a few threats to the now head of Fale, Vatriala, and ended up bedding her repeatedly for no good reason other than boredom. It was enough to keep Boopsie near the plots going on, and I guess that was the IC motivation for it more than anything.
Boopsie hired on some militiamen who were scared as shit of Boopsie for some reason. I thinly remember meting out punishments for half-giants who disobeyed orders that involved sending them into the city with no weapons as a cityguard and making them leave their dollies behind (half giants with dollies, really...) I think the experience of being hated cityguards in the middle of the populace and being disallowed the privileges of weapons scared the shit out of them. Or maybe it was that Boopsie became extraordinarily vicious at that point. Vatriala became identified as a spy, and Boopsie took her into custody, implicating her in a plot against the city-state and claiming that she lacked noble heritage as reason that Templars could take her into custody. We tortured her for a while, and the guards were very disturbed by this.
All I know is that they were really nice to me after that. heh.
Anyway, [Petre] showed up shortly after that. A blue robe. It seemed like nothing he did came out right, and I remember punishing him and the guards all together. That was all Boopsie knew how to do was punish people because rewarding anyone underneath him would be validating them somehow. But the only thing I really remember about any of that was sitting inside my estate with a guard, Petre, and one other person - a merchant, I think? And being hopelessly drunk.
The code at this point had added in agility failures in addition to speech slurring for drunkenness. We were in my estate, behind a locked gate and a locked door, and then, all of a sudden, a black robe is in the room and clearing his throat.
The four of us immediately looked up with wide eyes, and I'm hiding the jug of wine behind the couch. The black robe says "Can you talk?" and I'm wondering the same thing myself. "Of course, master." He beckons, and I stand, and I follow him. Two rooms later, I fall flat on my face. So much for playing it straight. It was never really Boopsie's strong suit anyway, I guess.
Anyway, the Black robe wanted to inform me that I would be leading a mission to Luir's. The objective was to "damage the outpost" to make a statement of the will of the Highlord to supress resurgents in that area. I was given a staff and the magic words for the staff that would let me raise undead from the fallen. I was to take three wagons, Petre, and two Oash red robes with 7,500 NPC soldiers to Luir's to damage it.
The next day was an RPT, and the city was abuzz. Spies at the gate watched us loading up, knew exactly where we were going, and sent advance notice via the way (there were a lot of 'slightly wounded' or 'very tired' people by the gate who were known to be spies, anyway). We split the wagons and the NPCs (there were like 30 NPCs) between the templars. Petre was to go first and meet me at the road. Then the other wagon, and me.
We got outside the gates of 'Nak, and there was a sandstorm. =/ The code was separating all the army regiments, the wagons, and half the templars. After an hour, an imm had reset the zone to clear it and re-consolidated the march so we could continue towards Luir's. I was told, explicitly, not to go to Tuluk.
So, we're going along the shield wall, and one of the pilots fails his skill check. This is the point I should mention that Boopsie, never having been allowed to leave the walls of Allanak has no knowledge of the terrain, has no maps to reference, in spite of repeated trips to the Highlord's library to ask for one, and has had no luck hiring a guard or guide who has the knowledge required. Boopsie, Petre, and the other PCs have no piloting skill amongst them, so we're relying on the NPCs to pilot us to our destinations. Now, that said... heh.
The NPC fails the piloting skill check for the second wagon, and the wagon plummets over the shield wall and splinters into two dozen pieces. Despite repeated attempts to rescue a full third of our force in NPC army regiments, no one can climb the skill wall, so we're indefinitely separated.
Here's where my memory gets fuzzy. Some of this was relayed to me via the Way, some of this was stuff I experienced, and some of this was stuff I found out about OOC later. I'm just going to tell what I know happened and to whom.
The wagon that split off ultimately met its fate when two tribal elves came upon them. The rest of us had, at this point, opted to continue on, hoping to meet them where the shield wall once again met the main road. The Oash, noted most for their hatred of elves, decided that the best course of action when confronted by two tribal elves would be to fireball them. Well, these happened to be very senior members of the Blackwing tribe. Those two PCs managed to wipe out a third of the Allanaki militia, a Red Robed NPC, and a Blue Robe PC templar single-handedly.
The rest of us, oblivious to this, had continued to the intersection of roads. We received a final contact from the PC on that mission who said they were done in, beset by elves, and they wouldn't be meeting us. We were too far away to do anything about this, so we decided to continue to Luir's with the remaining 2/3 of our force.
When we got there, arrow fire quickly decimated our forces from the ramparts. The first third of our troops went down in hailfire, and all attempts to hold the NPCs back failed because of the auto-combat initiation due to the arrow fire. So the remaining 1/3 of the army rushed into the outpost and auto attacked. I quickly set about raising the dead (both from Luir's and from our forces), but the arrow fire cut the zombies down too quickly. Almost as soon as they rose, they were cut down again. Over and over this happened, until finally the staff ran out of charges.
Then the outpost PCs and NPCs attacked, and I ordered my pilot to pull the wagon away from the combat to a safe distance. The battle spam was too much for me to actually see what was going on anymore. Imagine, you're in a room where arrow fire is coming in, and more than 15 separate combats are going on (so at least 17 people fighting with arrows coming into the room, all echoing inside a wagon).
My pilot (who I believe was the only PC who had a piloting skill, and a negligible one at that) pulled us away from the battle, and all the unengaged soldiers followed us. The remaining Templar saw us pull back and thought that we were retreating, and so also followed us. We got lost. The pilot thought he had it figured out, and ended up in the Gray Forest. Whereupon the rage of Tuluk got set on us. I think Petre ended up getting eaten by halflings. All the NPC soldiers were dead, and my pilot was making a mad dash South as fast as he could.
But, since the pilot had no grasp of geography (and, keep in mind, this pilot might VERY well have been me. I don't remember, but do note what I said about Boopsie's grasp of Zalanthan geography), we over-shot Allanak and ended up near Red Storm. At this point, a sand raptor entered the wagon (because whoever had built the wagon had neglected to give the wagon any closable/lockable doors) and killed Boopsie.
I was told to hang on, that someone would res my character because that wasn't supposed to happen. 5 minutes after I got ressed, Blackmoon raiders stumbled across us and entered the wagon (which, again, still had no lockable doors), subdued me, and slit my throat. No questions, nothing.
They distributed my stuff amongst them (including the staff of raise dead), and that was the end of Boopsie. I learned OOC that, after they killed me, a Black Robed templar showed up from Allanak and wiped all of them out, to a man, to take back the staff.
At the end, by my calculations, the efforts of that day had killed more than a thousand represented NPCs, destroyed three Allanaki wagons, lightly damaged Luir's outpost, and killed just under half of the online playerbase within the 4 hour time.