RPC has moved! These pages have been kept for historical purposes

Askier · **07-29-2015, 10:15 PM**

The bandit den was filled with smoke from the many pipes the bandits were smoking.Â The sweet smoke hung in the air and was mixing with the vagrants' loud laughter .

The roads to the north through Gridania had been busy as of late and these Redbellies had been making a killing.Â They had taken loot, gil, prizes, and even sold their captives into slavery.Â Gil was filling their den like sailors fill a bar on shore leave.

And just a few days ago, this pack of Redbellies had taken care of an annoying vigilante that had been causing them trouble.

Life was looking up for the band of bandits as one told a joke and more laughter filled the room.

That was about to end.

The door to their hovel suddenly flew open as something flew into it and then into the room.Â Splinters went tumbling as the door was torn off its hinges.Â A lalafell in Redbelly attire continued flying through the air before slamming onto the ground, his neck snapping loudly.Â The dead bandit slid several feet before lying on its back and twitching.Â The bandits all sprung to their feet and faced the door.Â

Sunlight streamed in through the open door as the men and women of the Redbelly's eyed it, waiting to see what had just killed their comrade.

There was a crunching of twigs and then a massive form filled the doorway.Â

The mass of a male was covered in coiled muscles that seemed about to rip through his deeply tanned skin at any moment.Â His flesh was covered in tribal paint symbolizing marks of protection from evil.Â Luxurious, white hair was pulled back behind his head.Â His eyes were jade green but they were narrowed at the moment.Â His nose was flat on his face and a beard lined his chin.Â A tail twitched behind him as he flexed his fists.

"I would replace the door." the massive male of a miqo'te said in a deep, theatrical voice as several Redbelly hyurs noticed that he was taller than them.Â "But the stagnant stench of evil needs to be aired out."

The Redbelly's immediately knew who it was and they all growled as their leader, a fat hyur with an eye patch and a massive red coat shouted as he turned to flee down a hallway behind him:

"Cut that bastard!"

The tall, muscular miqo'te held up his right fist as he leaned to the left. He displayed the fist the birgands as he watched the Redbelly's prepare to fight.

His right fist had paint on it as well, but the paint was that of a face, with two eyes above the thumb and red lick lipstick around the edge of the thumb and pointer finger to make a mouth.

"Evil, meet my fist. Fist!...." the massive male drew back and felt his chakra gates open as his eyes flashed.Â His fist raced forward at the closest Redbelly within striking distance.

"MEET EVIL!"

Askier · **07-29-2015, 10:15 PM**

[A Few Days Before]

-forthcoming-

Askier · **07-31-2015, 07:28 PM**

The roads north through Gridania had been full and the taverns and inns along the way were packed every night as travelers raced north to the newly opened city of Ishgard.

Korbin was remarking over the good luck his tavern had run into.Â The middle aged elezen was currently cleaning tables from the night before as light of the afternoon sun spilled in through the windows.Â

The common room was almost clean of split beer and tracked mud and it seemed like they would be ready for the inevitable rush that would descend upon them once the sun began to set.Â

But, for now, the elezen was calmly rubbing tables down with a wet rag, trying to remove the sticky, spilled beer he had left unwashed the night before.

At the moment, only his young son and a patron at one table were present with him.Â His son, like himself, was cleaning diligently. The traveler was quietly sitting at a table, looking over large map while drinking a glass of water with two lemon slices in it.

The patron was unique, not so much for his his shirtless attire, which allowed his mass of coiled muscles to shimmer; but the fact that he was just so huge for a miqo'te.Â Korbin had been around awhile and never had he seen a Seeker so well built.Â Korbin had been self-consciously walking around with his abs tensed trying to make himself fell better about his body compared to the feline adonis.

Though the strange miqo'te was very pleasant and he had been paying for the water regularly, so Korbin was content to allow the miqo'te to stay and make Korbin feel self conscious.

The door to the room opened.

The sounds of jingling spurs and the smell of tobacco smoke suddenly reached Korbin.Â The elezen stiffened and he tried to turn.Â He knew who it was.

But a boot caught Korbin at the back of the knee and he buckled.Â He fell to one knee as a iron like hand grabbed the back of his neck and began choking him as he felt himself being dragged towards the door.Â Korbin craned his neck and saw that it was theÂ miqo'te mercenary Ki Grimsong who had seized him. Just as Korbin had feared.

"Your protection money is late and the Chief knows ya have it." Ki muttered, smoking rising up from his lips.Â The mercenary stopped by the door and pulled out a knife.Â Korbin cried out in fear as the knife point was put to his left ear.

"I'm gonna cut off the ear.Â Once I do, you have ten minutes to find the money you owe the Chief or I'll cut the other one off."Â Ki blew smoke out of his nostrils as he shifted the cigarette hanging from his lips.

"I'll get it! I'll get it!" Korbin hollered.Â "I've just been busy and didn't have time to-"

"Yeah, shoulda made time."Â Ki held on to Korbin as the elezen flailed around, trying to break the vice grip on his neck.

"Please! I'll get it, I'll-"

"AHEM!" came a loud, thunderously loud and yet theatrical voice.Â Both Ki and Korbin looked over the large, shirtless miqo'te now standing before them.Â Ki gave a long whistle.

"Damn.Â You ever hear of a thing called a neck? Supposed to be between your shoulders and your head." the merc snorted.Â "Less you want to have your overcompensating guts blown all over the floor, sit down."

"I believe the man asked you to let him go. Would be rude not too." said the huge, muscled male

Ki blinked and cocked his head top one side as he sheathed his knife before he then unslung the large bore firearm from his back and leveled it at the shirtless miqo'te's chest.

"Sit your dumb ass down before I shoot your dick off.Â This isn't your business."

"There you are wrong."Â the massive male answered, raising his hands over his head.Â Ki noticed a small face was painted onto each hand and he blinked his mismatched eyes in surprise before meeting the jade green eyes of the muscle covered male.

"Making goodness fill the world is my business and there seems to be a drought here as of late.Â And when a drought in goodness comes, my fists make good rain."

Ki gave a look of disbelief and he began laughing.

"Fella, you are one dumb-" Ki started.

"And so do my feet." the shirtless male said calmly as he suddenly stamped his left foot.Â One of the long, parallel base boards that made up the floor was driven down on the end where his foot stomped.Â The whole rest of the board bowed upwards.Â Ki had just enough time to realize that the opposite end of the arching board was between his legs and that the nails holding the head of the board down were giving before the end of the board snapped up and slammed itself into his crotch with a thundering smack.

Ki howled and dropped his gun as the air was kicked out of him.Â Tears filled his eyes and he felt the pain rise up from his balls into his abdomen as he clutched his bruised manhood.Â Ki fell to the floor.Â

"Owwwwwww." Ki screamed. He was in so much pain that he never saw the large foot that kicked him in the gut and then scooped him up into the awaiting arms.Â

Over the pain, Ki sensed that he was being carried out.Â The massive hands then found the mercenary's chocobo and lashed him to the saddle.Â Ki realized what was about to happen through his water filled eyes as he saw the huge miqo'te draw his hand back.

"Hey, no!"

"Meyaw!" the shirtless miqo'te shouted as he smacked Ki's mount on the flank. The chocobo gave a loud caw and then began rushing off, dragging the mercenary behind the bird.

"I'll get you for this!" Ki hollered, his voice much in a much higher pitch than normal as he bounced off a pot hole.Â He whimpered as more pain rolled through his body.

The massive miqo'te dusted his hands off and returned to the establishment.Â He walked in to see a bewildered Korbin and Korbin's son starring at him.Â The large male blushed at their awed expressions.

"Uh, can I get some more water, please?" the male asked.

"I...I...thank you sir!"Â Korbin said, bowing low.Â "You've saved my ears."

"Not yet I haven't" the massive male said, giving a thumbs up and a grin.Â

"Huh?" Korbin stammered.Â

The massive, shirtless miqo'te with white hair shrugged.Â

"I mean, he's not dead and might be back with friends.Â So things could get messy."

"Then why let him live?" Korbin felt his gut knot.

"Because, he was only one.Â Better to lure more wolves out. Now then, about that water."

"I...water...okay." Korbin said, scared and confused.Â "Two lemons, Mr...."

"Mr. Elk Moro is what they call me."Â the miqo'te thumped his chest and nodded eagerly. "And yes, two lemon slices please. I'll need to be well hydrated for when they come back.Â Also you might want to find a safe place to hide in case they do.Â Better safe than sorry!" Elk Moro gave a friendly grin.Â Korbin just gave a weak smile.

"Horray...." Korbin muttered weakly.

Askier · **08-04-2015, 10:23 AM**

The Redbelly bandit leader was nervous. His hands were in the pockets of his red court and his black beard and long black hair were hiding his taught muscles. Â He watched the robed figure next to him.

The figure in black robes was picking Â over a pile of dead bodies for one he wanted. Of the twelve dead corpses, the figure in black had selected four and dragged them aside. The figure was short but the bandit leader had no idea what race the figure was. Certainly not a roe or lalafell but that left three options.

The figure's flowing black robes, large hood' and extoically painted porcelain mask hid all distinguishing characteristics.

The figure clicked its tongue and spoke in a thin, whisper of a voice, like roaches scampering over dead leaves.

"These will be all."

The bandit leader shuddered at the necromancer's voice. The necromancer that called himself the "Mask of the Seven Frozen Horrors Shrouded in Nald'thal's Mists" or "Myst" as he told the bandit to call him, had come to them recently offering ten thousand Gil for each -suitable- corpse the bandits brought him.

Myst rose to his feet and turned to stare at the bandit leader. Two icy blue eyes gazed out from behind the mask.

"Aight. Forty thousand, per usual." The bearded man grunted. His greed was greater than his fear. Myst made an inhuman clicking nose and reached into a sleeve. The air temperature dropped several degrees.

"Take your worldly goods." Myst hissed, tossing a bag of Gil onto the floor.

Before the bandit leader could move, the door to the stone hut opened and two Redbellies entered.

"Hey Boss, Grimsong is back. Someone beat the hell out of him and kept him from getting Korbin's payment. Says a hired monk or something stopped him."

The bandit leader raised an eyebrow. Grimsong was an ass but he hadn't failed to get a job done till now.Â

"Aight, grab some of the boys and go round and gut this monk and take both Korbin's ears for defying us."

"Want us to kill him?" one of the Redbellies inquired.

"Naw, we need him to keep running the inn so we can shake him down. Just the ears. Get going."

The bandit boss looked at Myst.

"Excuse me, business calls. I'll send someone by to load up the bodies for you"

Myst bowed his head while speaking.

"Much appreciated. Also, could you send Grimsong to see me?"

"Why?" The bandit leader asked, suspiciously. He knew Grimsong had been working with this necromancer for some dark end, which they claimed had nothing to do with the bandit's business; but the bandit leader had sniffed out betrayal before.

"I need to discuss the matters of -our- arrangement. If you want the details, speak with him. It is not my business to repeat what I know."

The voice was a whisper but it held an icy edge as if he was considering something foul and unnatrual.

The bandit leader didn't push the issue. He simply nodded and followed his men out the door, leaving Myst alone with the dead. Myst preferred it this way.

And Where He Went, Evil Got Punched [Closed]

RPC has moved! These pages have been kept for historical purposes