Indignation is a Fire Emblem Roleplay. It takes place within the Outrealms as worlds collide and kingdoms wage an endless war. However, amongst the quarrels of men do the horrors of the Outrealm reach in to kill and destroy. Fight alone or join forces with other warriors as we create dramatic tales or wage war!
We are open to roleplayers of all skill levels. If you are interested in joining, check out the discord chat and meet some of our members. Or if you're ready to jump right in, go ahead and join the site!
"A toast to the beautiful Lady Layla!" shouted a robust fellow, "... who more or less would care anything of us!"
"HAIL!" was the jovial reply, followed by raucous laughter and stomping of metal boots.
Warriors of all shapes and sizes were gathered inside of a bar, singing songs with little mind to tone or melody. No matter the circumstances of the outside world, this town always had the most convivial evenings. It was a gathering place of fellow adventurers and fortune-finders who would have nothing to do with the conflict of the day. One could get drunk on the atmosphere.
If only it were like this every where else. Maybe the world would be a happier place.
Ha, in the eyes of a man, of course.
A bulky fellow sat by himself at a table with a fancy pipe nestled in his hand, gently stroking his finely groomed mustache. He wore simple clothing, but his feet were adorned with metal boots befitting a knight. No one paid him any attention, and that was fine with him. He needn't drink or join with their partying as his goal was simply to enjoy the mood. It was a warm, musky room with the scent of body odor and alcohol, yet the fact that these fellows were enjoying themselves was wonderful to him.
Still... it would've been nice if he had someone to enjoy this with. All these here were comrades to one another. Friends. He was not one of them, but he wished for good company of his own.
Of course, his appearance was an intimidating one, and approaching people only had them run away from him in fear. Thus he sat alone, and unbeknownst to him, a victim to rumors of others within the bar.
Lydia had been one of the voices to join into the warm cheers. There was humor in these men's wishes. She couldn't help but chuckle afterwards. Miss Layla was no doubt a fine performer and Lydia had to admit, she was quite the looker. She could understand a man's fascination with the woman. How nice it would be to be talented and pretty. Even being one of the few women in the bar, Lydia brought little attention to herself. The only thing that stood out about her here were her pointed ears. With her flagon in hand she walked from table to table, seeking a place to sit. She could be quite the fun one, if people would give her the chance. Every table she came by was suddenly filled or had seats saved for somebody else.
The woman sighed. Her options for seating had gotten pretty slim. Lydia slid by a table where a man sat on his own. Sheepishly she held up her flagon in a greeting to the man. "To Miss Layla?" her voice was loud enough for the two of them to hear and Lydia had been rather unsure of herself.
A woman had sat on the chair across the table and offered a toast.
Hmm? This night surely is different! This sort of opportunity doesn't happen often!
Alas! His mug was already empty, yet because of its wooden exterior, it would difficult to notice that. The man took hold of the handle of the mug, and with a bright and manly smile, he returned her mug with a robust reply, "To Miss Layla!" He made the motion of drinking and set the mug down on the table, "Are you enjoying the festivities, young lady?" Lydia Chant
The man seemed to welcome her more openly than she had anticipated. Lydia flashed him a smile, feeling a bit more at ease at the table where she was seated. "In truth, my sir, I haven't been." She took a sip of her drink, not really interested to go into any more details. "Have you enjoyed your night so far?" She leaned towards his mug and examined how it had already been emptied. "By the looks of it, I'd have to say yes."
The man let out a hearty laugh that nearly reverberated across the room, "Ha-ha-ha! Sharp lass, aren't you! Good for you." He tapped the lip of the mug and chuckled, "Yes, I've simply been enjoying the ambience for a while now. These fellows are a good bunch. Little rowdy, if I do say so myself."
He turned himself a little to face the woman, "Well, I won't permit myself to be rude for much longer! I am Sir Deacon Brigham, at your service, young lady." He rotated his palm in a circle before bowing his head down. Lydia Chant
"It is nice to get out an send time around others from time to time. Getting cooped up inside the infirmaries all day make me a bit stir crazy." My this man sure had a regal air to him. From his movements to the way he introduced himself as a nobleman. If not noble than he sure was chivalrous. "Greetings sir Deacon," Lydia greeted him. Had she been standing, she would have curtsied for him. Instead she lifted a dainty hand towards him and held it out. "You may call me Lydia. Lydia Chant is my name."
"Enchante, Ms. Lydia Chant," said Deacon as he gently took her hand and bowed his head down once more toward her, stopping just shy of actually touching her hand with his sweaty face. Returning to his original sitting posture, he posed a topic based off of her explanation prior to her own introduction, "Infirmaries, you said? I wish not impose a guess upon your person, but would you perchance be a nurse or doctor?"
To him it was odd for one of such education to join themselves in a soiree of commoners. Lydia Chant
"Yes Sir Deacon," the woman nodded her head, "I do make my rounds to the clinics around Nohr." And Hoshido too admittedly, but that wasn't something she would openly tell the man. "I've done my time in the battlefields as well." The woman gave a sigh at the whole concept of war. "My parents are actually rather notable in the medical field." The best there was, if the right people were asked about it.
"Ahaa, I see, I see!" Deacon emphatically bobbed his head with interest riddled on his face, "When I used to be a part of the Nohrian army, my sector fondly referred to military nurses and priests 'angels on the battlefield.' I ponder what it means, as I'm not particularly sure what they meant by it!" He raised his arms in a playful shrug, "I know what angels are, but for them to physically manifest themselves on the battlefield would instantly inspire fear and awe even from myself!"
The knight furrowed his eyebrows, flared his nostrils, and raised one side of his lips as he scratched his head, "Perhaps I'm missing a concept of the phrase. Ah, concepts..." Lydia Chant
"I imagine it'd be a gift from the great gods to have somebody sent to heal you. Were you never hurt on the field, Sir Deacon?" she asked. Maybe he had never been hurt, or maybe he had never been healed. It could be that this man was simply dense or lacking of imagination. Lydia couldn't help but smile at this man. Her fingers twisted around the spine of her mug. "I don't believe they meant it literally. Sometimes people say things to bring hope, the battlefield of all places. Plus," she flicked at her hair playfully, "if I was laying there dying, I wouldn't mind the last thing I saw being the face of a beautiful woman."
"Hmm, can't say I have had a good enough scuffle for me to warrant aide... armor tends to ward off flesh wounds," Deacon slid his hand beneath his nose as he leaned against the arm of his chair. He became deep in thought as she began to play with her hair, her words figuratively flying overhead.
However, his analysis caused him to raise his eyebrows, "Nurses, angels... as a gift from the gods?" Something in his mind seemed to click at that moment as he raised a hand to the air with his index finger pointed to the sky. "That's it! What a marvelous thing! It would make sense for the gods to give providence to their creation in the form of nurses! Another riddle solved, wouldn't you say? That warrants a toast for you! Haha!" With his muscly hands, he once again grabbed his empty mug and held it out to her, "A grand explanation, Ms. Chant. I do applaud you!" Lydia Chant
A wide smile spread on Lydia's face, followed by a flush of her face at the toast he had given to her. She touched her mug to his and continued to take a sip. She realized his was empty once again. "Here," she reached for his mug and grasped it in her tiny hands. Lydia didn't say much else before heading across the tavern to get a refill on the man's drink. This would be on her. For the kindness he had showed her. She returned to him with some heavy thoughts. The concept of battle still didn't sit well with Lydia. But in these times there wasn't much she could do. Only her best. "If only everybody could wear armor," Lydia sighed. "Then there would be no reason to fight. Nobody could get hurt and wars could go back to being fought with words."
Lydia proceeded to take his mug... and had it refilled? What a kind woman she is, and perhaps never would be the least in terms of her looks...
No, no, no... stop thinking such things, Deacon!
"Ahaha, why, how kind of you, Ms. Chant! Thank you!" he said with a chuckle, his cheeks were a touch rosy. Before his lips touched the mug, he listened to her somber words and put the mug down.
Ah, yes... the futility of war.
"Mmm..." Deacon nodded his head, "And yet... old men start wars with their words and have the young fight the consequences of them. If only the great leaders could come to terms with each other!" He crossed his arms and let out his own sigh, "Peace is not something so easily made with prideful men."
He leaned back in his chair briefly, but he bounced back. "I'll tell you one thing, Ms. Chant! It would be better if conflict with either words or swords never had been! That way, we may all share the glorious reality of peace with every creature!" He shrugged his shoulders and picked up his mug to drink, "Well, at least, that's what I think. What say you?" Lydia Chant
"I say it is impossible to go back to a time where people couldn't fight other people. For as long as man had hands, there would be violence in our midsts. A rock can be used as a weapon. And yet," she chuckled at this, "If there was a place where only peace existed, I'd say it were too good to be true." That was the misfortune of growing in the world Lydia had. It was the misfortune of looking different and of living in the racist areas of Nohr.
"Ah yes..." Deacon nodded his head gently. He stared contemplatively into the crowd of partiers and jubilant fellows for a while.
Peace was a passing thing on this world of theirs. The tides of time change, thus men and their ideologies change with it. Kings rule, but they are still human, and others of different mindset take their place. Men war because of discontent, and in the case of Nohr, they envy the lush lands of Hoshido. The greed of a single nation can overturn any measure of peace.
Why... it only takes a single pebble or the blow of the wind to disturb the still waters. The avalanche falls with a single shift upon its surface. Even so, the disturbance will end until another begins.
"Tis only for a season, my dear Ms. Chant," he said, "The phases of life will come and go. Indeed it is true that a realm of peace seems near impossible to us now, but... the future! That is where we must hope: for the end of conflict! That in itself is a glorious thing!" Lydia Chant
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