Join the Ever-Victorious Baatezu Army!: Mercenaries of the Blood War (Heavy rp, medium tactical combat)
"The thing most smoothskins ask me, when they ask at all, is ‘Did you do it?’ That presumes of course they are interested in talking to one of my race and ilk, but the sensationalistic report of what had happened out near Ribcage are lies and slander, just lies and slander. Of course, most smoothies don’t like talking to me, don’t find my lovely hide all that pleasant to look at, for one. For creatures that seem to be colored like walking corpses, I don’t understand the sentiment. Not that many people care of course; they would rather take the time to beat a berk so much as look at him, and being large red and menacing just makes it all the easier.
Yeah, I did it. I would do it again too, addle-coved nobodies got in our way. A planar caravan is easy pickings, and anyone not smart enough to drop a few gold pieces for competent guards deserves what they get. Take your cut and let them walk, smart idea right? Oh no, they had to fight, make it all messy-like. I am a reasonable fellow, but I’ll be damned if I let my servants fall to pieces under a farmer boy’s sword. It’s not civilized I tell you! That’s when it happened: the smoothies never really stood a chance in the slightest. When you can peg a flesh-bag from 250 paces, how the hell is he going to draw his sword on you? Not bloody likely, berk! Took 'em all out, y'know. Men, women, children, what does it matter? They all bleed the same and even us ‘monsters’ have kin. The children are pretty tasty, and a berk has to eat you know.
Not that I go for the stuff personally all that often, but Grak’lor had a sweet tooth. Tastes like pork you know, long pig. Smooth flesh peels right off the first spit and just melts in your mouth. Delicious. Besides, we were doing them a favor, we were. Did it all quick-like, which is more than I can say for some of the folks we have done in. Like I said, if you stay reasonable we treat you real reasonable, yeah?
Well, that’s the big story. Place a few bones in an artful décor and suddenly you have a damnable crusade on your hands. I mean, even if it was a spur-of-the-moment feeling, it was just a joke. Bones were going to waste and all the tender meat was gone. ‘Monsters’ this and ‘demons’ that. The sheer injustice of it makes you sick. Not like I haven’t seen a few non-humanoid’ heads on pikes and the like. Sir “Demonslayer” has to get his rocks off knocking over a few Fresh-Fangers to be a real man. Yeah, I have no pity for them. We’re going to live here too, and we’ve been here a lot longer than the smoothskins have. I had the singular misfortune to run into a magical trap, wasting most of my comrades. Not that they were any use to me, as they couldn’t even save me with their paltry lives. Good help is terribly hard to find these days.
That's where you cutters come in and I stop rambling. We need competent folks, folks that know the sharp end of the stick and can keep to their bloody contract. I'm tired of second-stringers and nobodies, and if your little team has the collective brass to get into the big leagues...I can take you there.
All you need to do is just look over a few documents..."
The hooded cambion smiles, gleaming white teeth reminiscent of a shark as he claps his mailed hands together once. A small imp, cringing, carrying a stack of papers throws them on top of a table covered in maps, red arrows, and scribbling.
I finally decided to take the plunge and run a game on here. Having been kicking around for a number of games as a PC and co-DM, I finally found a story arc I would like to see come to fruition.