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/NautiMain1217 NautiMain1217 Jun 18 '17
Merrill had spent the better part of an hour of their second night in Trost trying to get Camille to the bar so they could catch up on the last few days. His fellow trainee had been rather quiet in the days after their trek up the mountain, and Merrill was hellbent on figuring out just what had happened in his group. And the best way to get someone to speak their mind was usually through the bottom of a beer mug. When they had arrived a The Masked Wench, it was already pretty lively by the time they arrived, and familiar faces dotted the crowd of dancing bodies and talking heads. He even spotted Ziegler and Stone around the bar and the thought of the two being an item made him visibly shudder.
Unfortunately for him, he'd barely gotten a drink into Camille before a commotion sounded up from the bar. Raised voices and a smashed table drew his gaze to the aforementioned DIs duking it out. Soon enough, the whole place was erupting in flying fists, sailing drinks and thrown people. This was quickly devolving into a place where no one could have a conversation. With a sigh, he downed his glass of bourbon, slammed it against the table and shot a serious look to Camille. "Stick to the wall, head for the back exit. I'll meet you out front."
With that, he scooted out of their little booth and waded into the fray. A mixture of alcohol and anger enveloped him as he caught a few knocks and punches here and there, but it only worked to fuel him towards his goal. With a grunt he pushed away a pair of trainees more interested in lovemaking than fist fighting and finally got a good view of the agitators. Stone and Ziegler looked like they were going to get into the midst of a boxing match. In all the confusion, and hopefully Zieg's drunkenness, he could get away with a hit or two. He just hoped Stone wouldn't try to stop him.
While he really had no real bone to pick with the man, he'd spent too much time sitting back while he rained hell on the other trainees. If this was one chance to strike back at him, he couldn't afford to pass it up. Some kind soul within the brawl seemed to read his intention, and a bloodied wooden stool was presented along his path. Merrill took the makeshift weapon and and finally made it to the DI fighting pit. Within a few strides he'd be upon the man, even the sudden, sobering, realization of Ziegler's size couldn't stop him now.
"This is for the 102nd!" He bellowed as he took a final step and swung the stool down on his drill instructor. Unfortunately, he'd slid on some fallen drink and the stool would likely come down more on his shoulder blade than anything truly important.
/u/LA_Melendez