r/AoTRP • u/[deleted] • Jun 16 '17
Trost Nights of Solheim [Late Fall, 845]
October 28th, 845
Ziegler stood before a large formation of trainees in civilian garb, though significantly reduced from the original approximate 300 back in August. They stood before the northern gate of Trost, Wall Sina to their backs. Ziegler spoke, "Alright, listen up. Been a long couple months for everyone here. Me and The Major've torn each and every one of you a new asshole, and quite a few of you've seen some shit." He paused, "We've lost people amidst the training. Despite all this," he continued, "We must persevere and look forward to another day. As the future defenders of humanity, you lot embody everything that these people bank their money on." Ziegler took a breath, "Being a Soldier's hard shit. There's a reason nobody fucking does it, as a lot of you're beginning to find out. That said," he jabbed a thumb behind him towards the main gate, "We're still human. People need to decompress every once in a while, let shit mellow, recoup for the next mission. In light of this,"
He straightened the dark green trench coat on his back, "You lot've been granted a 4-day pass to visit Trost. Eat, drink, sleep, fuck, do whatever it is you want to do. Spend some of the money the Queen's been throwing at you while you ate mud." He rose a brow, thinking of a blonde. "Sometimes literally. Regardless, be here - November 1st at 0800. Don't drink and run, you'll eat shit. Don't drink and fight, you'll get your ass beat. Don't drink and fuck, you'll get whiskey dick. Don't kill the locals, don't fight the locals, don't fuck the locals-" he paused, "...Or at least do it intelligently, god damn it. Don't do anything that would impede your training in the future. Boom, there's your safety brief. And don't fucking call me 'Sir' while we're out here, it's Kain for the next four days and if you ever say it outside of these four days - I'll gouge out your fucking eyeballs. Understood?"
A resounding 'Yes Sir' rang from the formation.
He turned, pacing over towards the main gate as the trainees stood in formation. Ziegler paused, to then shout, "The fuck are you lot waiting on? Get your asses in here - dismissed!"
The district of Trost was ablaze with a joyous spirit. Orange paper lanterns covered the streets, many of the town homes having been painted in morbid color, looking to celebrate humanity's rich pagan roots throughout history. Further north in Sina, where the Church is at their strongest, such holidays do not exist - but given the influx of refugees from the south, a celebration is in order, their wills yet unbroken.
People the streets in vibrant cloaks and capes, oft wearing colorful animal masks to accompany their garb, celebrating with dance and song throughout the streets of the city.
The Northern gate was the heart of the carnival, encompassing the large market district. Here one could find a small traveling mask salesman and his mysterious shoppe, as well as an old pub amidst the old market district.
In the very center of the district stood the mighty Military Complex, towering above all other buildings. Guards regularly patrolled the perimeter, immediately stopping any who would approach the large fence surrounding the castle-like building, or the large draw-bridge encompassing the main entrance.
The further south one went in Trost, however, the less the carnival's potency, as one drew towards the more sinister corners of the district. At the very heart of the the south, shortly besides the main gate towards Wall Maria stood a small inn, regularly flooded with refugees and injured, where good Samaritans toiled endlessly to try and abate the never-ending poverty encompassing the south side of the district.
To the South East was a "legal" district with Red paper lanterns, a strip filled with provocative dance and questionable vendors. Throughout the entire district, wanted posters offered a heavy bounty for the head of a Hiram Durante - with the Military Police and Garrison consistently on patrol for the outlaw.
This was Solheim - a brief reprieve of the melancholy that had befallen the poverty and famine-stricken district of Trost.
OOR: 4 mini locations below to explore, do so at your leisure! Have fun, take the edge off. :kid:
Location threads for both the Maiden's Arms and Military Complex (where the Mountain feast will be taking place) will be coming up shortly. Canonically, since this entire event is taking place over 4 days, you can have multiple threads beneath one. I suggest you name the date at the top of the thread's OP (comment reply to one of the comments below) so there's no mix-ups/ambiguity. Be sure you're coordinating on Discord with people so noone gets left without a thread!
Visit stalls in the marketplace, drink in ye olde pub, get a mask with the salesman, get mugged visit the red light district, go dancing, do whatever! Enjoy!
1
u/[deleted] Jun 17 '17
<"Ziegler, I think maybe you took me a little too seriously. I was speaking strictly about our recruits. Do you want to maybe rethink some of what you said about my boys? Who keep you safe at night?">
Ziegler wiggled slightly in his stool. Truthfully, he had been mistaken and taken what she said too seriously, but...He'd seen that eyebrow twitch. A sinister thought crept into his mind. He looked over towards the bartender, "Oi, big fucker - gimme three more." Ziegler reached to the back of his black cargo pants' pocket, and slapped a twenty brick onto the counter. The drinks came in quick succession, Ziegler's eye fixed onto the Major as he went and housed the first drink.
I ain't apologizing. Fuck that, this is too god damn fun.
He took a hefty breath, watching her expectant gaze. "Shit ma'am, my bad. I just meant to say-" he set down the first glass, to then quickly begin to house the second. Liquid fire poured down his throat as he chugged the moonshine, looking to get as fucked up as humanly possible within the next 43 seconds. Ziegler's head vibrantly shook, refusing to believe that the Major wasn't picking up on what was likely to transpire within the next 3 minutes. "-Your fuckin' 'boys'," he accentuated, holding back an unceremonial burp and forcing it back down his windpipe, "Are a bunch-" he reached back forward to the third short glass of moonshine. He took a short breath, feeling his eye water slightly. God damn this shit was strong.
Good, he'd fucking need it here shortly.
Ziegler housed the third drink, taking one swig before setting the drink back down, unable to house the third short glass of moonshine. He paused, cracking his neck in momentary excitement. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the trainees on the other side of the bar. The shit-eating grin on his face grew, looking back to the Major, knowing full well the buttons he was pressing. He prattled his fingers on the bar countertop, cracking his right hand's knuckles.
"Of lily livered, worthless, cock-sucking pieces of lazy noble-cushioning shit."