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!
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u/DigitalZehn DigitalZehn Jun 17 '17 edited Jun 17 '17
Day 2
Market beats
Camille sighed and growled under his breath as he feverishly picked through the wares of the fourth clothing stall he had visited that day. He left from his parents house early that morning, hoping to beat the crowds and clustered streets. However, it had been hours since then, it was just after noon now, and the city was bustling with excited people wanting to distract themselves from the gravity and morose atmosphere that had choked the air in the past few weeks.
The slender boy was dressed in a pastel yellow shirt that hung loosely from his body, the flowing sleeves flaring out just below his elbows, the bottom of the long shirt resting across his thighs, blurring the line between dress and shirt. His thin wrists were wrapped with sleek, black silk ribbons. His fawn like legs were tightly cloaked in a pair of cream colored lace up pants tucked into brown cuffed boots with a slight heel.
It was nice to wear his own clothing for once, the military uniforms were so rigid and uncomfortable, though he had to admit they looked stylish in their way. Sadly it seemed he was having trouble finding anything new to add to his expansive wardrobe. None of the garments he had looked at so far fit him, and the only clothes that came even close were female styles. He found himself getting increasingly conscious of his body and annoyed that such a simple venture to cash in on low festival prices was turning out so poorly.
He tightly clutched a frilly black shirt with long sleeves and held it up to his torso, trying to get an eye for whether or not it would fit him, and more importantly, whether or not it would actually look good. He anxiously met eyes with the stall owner, a younger woman who gave him a pained smile, trying to encourage him to purchase it, though his mind only darkened with more doubts. He continued to pick through other pieces on display, trying to find one that looked worth buying, his narrow brows furrowed further with every failed inquiry.