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!
Dragonstone
Rank E. MT 4, HIT 80
(Ranged weapon)
(Magic weapon. Can use MAG)
(STR +3, MAG +5, SKL +3, SPD +2, DEF +4, RES +3)
Ice Dragonstone,
Rank D. MT 4, HIT 85
Turns into an Ice Dragon.
Deals Ice Damage.
[x2 DMG from Fire Weapons]
(STR +2, DEF +13, RES +9, SKL +7, SPD +3)
Fire Dragonstone
Rank D. MT 6, HIT 80
Turns into a Fire Dragon.
Deals Fire Damage.
(STR +6, DEF +6, RES +4, SKL +3, SPD +2)
Flying Dragonstone
Rank D. MT 4, HIT 85
Transforms into a Wyvern.
Deals Wind Damage.
[x2 DMG from Wind, Arrows]
(STR +1, DEF +6, RES +4, SKL +4, SPD +15)
Magic Dragon
Transforms into a Magic Dragon.
Deals MAG Damage.
[x2 DMG from items that deal double against Magical Units]
(MAG +7, DEF +4, RES +9, SKL +5, SPD -1)
Dragonstone +
Rank C. MT 8, HIT 70
(Ranged Weapon)
Magic weapon. Can use MAG)
(STR +8, MAG +6, SKL +5, DEF +13, RES +9)
An introduction of the wanderers sean and the Madame
Cyrkensia Docks Approx. 4:00 PM
The sun hung high over the sea, casting short shadows of those coming and going about the dock thoroughfare. Surly sailors heaved trade items from overseas, some singing a merry ditty as they lifted, others whistling toward passing damsels, and some speaking of remarkable tales of unsavory marauders on the high seas to those who would lend their ears.
Upon a certain crate in the dock sat a beer-bellied seaman with a cleft chin and a heavy brow set beneath a pair of beady eyes. A single ring with a shark tooth hung from his ear, yet most telling of his tale was the black eyepatch covering a vacant left eye socket. Surrounding him was a mixed company of roamers, listening with great interest.
"Not a thing I tell ya' is a lie!" he declared with a shake of his fist, "There are marauders adrift! Saw two ships on our voyage, all openin' fire upon our vessel! Good thing we was a clipper, 'cause they were staunch! Cannonballs flyin' everywhere! Managed to graze our ship, but it cost me eye to get away from 'em!"
While not sitting among the crowd, a young woman of certain, comely beauty in modest dress rested on some crates with her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyelids were shut, head leaned back and luscious golden hair draped over a second box. Her reclining made for an attractive presentation, and some sailors took notice, and their eyes read definite ardor.
Some were even so bold to approach.
"Ahoy, lass," spoke one with an attempt of a sultry voice, his form blocked the sun from her face, "This is an odd place for you to rest yourself."
Another pushed the other aside, "Don't listen to this chowderhead! Shall I take you out tonight for an evening of song and dance? I know a good bar in town with terrific drink!"
However, not even an eye opened to greet him, and at this, a challenge presented itself to the forward upstart. Seeing that there was room to sit beside the woman, he immediately sat down and brushed against her side.
"Hey, hey, listen, pretty missy, didn't you hear me?" his arm began to slip behind her back, and his face gradually neared hers.
Suddenly, her eyes popped open, revealing two jewel-like crimson eyes carrying a striking glare. The young man immediately froze in place, almost entranced at the sight.
"Lummox," she hissed as she pushed his face away, "I'm nauseous. Leave me alone."
"Aw, don't be like that, darling!" the man became playful as he leaned back toward her, "I don't bite!"
"Well, I do," she replied gruffly as she pulled herself up off the crates, "So, do yourself a favor and take your honeyed words to someone with less grey matter."
"Whoa, whoa, we're not done talking!" persisted the sailor as he wrapped his arms around her shoulder, "Let's go!"
"You'd never wake a sleeping dragon, whelp," the woman hissed as her hand reached up to grab his, "That sours the mood."
Odd Rhythm: If a unit equipped with this skill has their turn set during an odd number in the turn order, they get +10 to their HIT and the enemy gets -10 to their HIT.
Wyrmsbane: Deals double damage against dragon units as long as the user is in beast form.
It was the laughter that roused him, but the splashing ocean woke him. Sean Mercer sat up. His sopping outfit clung to every inch of his aching body. The amber sun, fading to distant horizons, burned tired eyes. Laughter broke again, pulling Mercer from the ocean. Docks, ships. Years of drinking pushed him to his feet. Having a headache, or being hungover, meant nothing to him. But no matter how many times he had been robbed, waking up weapons was never easy.
He trudged along the beach, sand in his shoes. Each gravely step threatened to drop him. Nothing unusual. He glanced to the high Jetty beside him. Screw walking. Fingers cracked as they flattened across splintering wood. Lifting wasn't easy. He huffed once, rising no more than few inches. The beach welcomed him a second time and Mercer grunted. Slivered wood broke through his palm as he rolled onto the dock with a pained growl.
Three strangers looked his way. One woman, curves of not. Two men, useless as himself. “Hell, mate. What hole did you crawl out of?” A surly stranger asked. Sean didn't reply. He was in no mood for conversation. The seafarer forced himself up, shaking off the crick in his back. “Oi, mate. I'm talking to you.” Mercer glanced up. “I know.” “You know?” “Yeah.” He pawed at the splinter. “I know.” The brigand's partner glanced back to their feminine other. “See lass, you could be bothered by a man like him. Aren't we a prize in comparison?” “A grand one.” Sean pushed passed him. “Oi, that sarcas.... Sarces.... Sarcasi-” He patted the stranger. “Sarcasm. And yes. It is.” “Think you're funny?” “No, just lost. Now move.” “Or what?” Sean sighed. “I neither know, or care.”
Dragonstone
Rank E. MT 4, HIT 80
(Ranged weapon)
(Magic weapon. Can use MAG)
(STR +3, MAG +5, SKL +3, SPD +2, DEF +4, RES +3)
Ice Dragonstone,
Rank D. MT 4, HIT 85
Turns into an Ice Dragon.
Deals Ice Damage.
[x2 DMG from Fire Weapons]
(STR +2, DEF +13, RES +9, SKL +7, SPD +3)
Fire Dragonstone
Rank D. MT 6, HIT 80
Turns into a Fire Dragon.
Deals Fire Damage.
(STR +6, DEF +6, RES +4, SKL +3, SPD +2)
Flying Dragonstone
Rank D. MT 4, HIT 85
Transforms into a Wyvern.
Deals Wind Damage.
[x2 DMG from Wind, Arrows]
(STR +1, DEF +6, RES +4, SKL +4, SPD +15)
Magic Dragon
Transforms into a Magic Dragon.
Deals MAG Damage.
[x2 DMG from items that deal double against Magical Units]
(MAG +7, DEF +4, RES +9, SKL +5, SPD -1)
Dragonstone +
Rank C. MT 8, HIT 70
(Ranged Weapon)
Magic weapon. Can use MAG)
(STR +8, MAG +6, SKL +5, DEF +13, RES +9)
That man came out of nowhere. Drenched to the bone, he was! Did he fall in the drink? His stench was like that of a rain sewer near ocean water, but aside from that his sopping outfit bore no indication of his social status...
... Except for, maybe, a seafarer or mercenary. He was quite bristly, and his physique, while slightly emaciated, had certain musculature that suggested he did more physical work...
Ah, yes, it seems things are escalating with him and her unsavory company.
"If I may," the woman spoke with a candid tone, "None of you are prizes in my eyes, and I absolutely hate it when men touch me." She immediately slapped his arm off her shoulder, then went so far as to push him away.
"Whoa, feisty wench!" the man remarked as he caught his footing, "Don't tell me you're interested in--"
"WENCH?" the woman's volume instantly escalated, causing the man to flinch. Furthermore, the speed of her speech began to increase, "Don't make me tear that flippant tongue out of your odorous mouth, you stupid half-wit muscle-brained barnacle!"
The rejected sailor stood still for a second as he processed the information. One could see his face redden in the embarrassment being thrust upon him.
"B-barnacle?!" he exclaimed, "Why-why, I oughta..."
The woman's eyes glinted in derision, "I'll be off. You don't need me to stick yourself on someone else's bottom." She turned to leave, yet a strong hand seized her wrist.
"You'd better shut that trap of yours lass," the sailor growled, "You could get hurt with a tongue like that."
Setup complete. A pair of demure eyes shifted to the waterlogged man as she began to struggle out of the sailor's grip. "I said not to touch me, jerk!" sean
Odd Rhythm: If a unit equipped with this skill has their turn set during an odd number in the turn order, they get +10 to their HIT and the enemy gets -10 to their HIT.
Wyrmsbane: Deals double damage against dragon units as long as the user is in beast form.
The maiden's words, while barbed, didn't sting. Mercer knew his look, knew his place. He wasn't a prize. Never could be one. His place was on the waters, surrounded by the sort of people heckling her. Hell, he knew, some other day and he'd be right there with them. The men could have their fun. Glancing further down the dock revealed nothing until the woman's cry turned him around.
Her anger had faded, replaced with soft fear. There was a sense of pride in it. The prim and proper could hardly ever do more than talk. And it was about time this one learned her lesson.
“Walk away mate.” The man standing at Mercer's side growled. “You ain't gotta be a hero.” “Oh I know. I'm the furthest thing from it actually.” Breaking away from the man, Sean took a single step towards the struggling stranger. “Then what you gonna do?” The brigand asked. “Not sure yet.” “Huh?” He turned around. “Where are we at?” “Crykensia.” The man hustling her said. “Right. I heard of it.” Sean drew closer. “I'm gonna need some coin. But first.” Smirking, Mercer reached for the maiden. His hand met her stomach and soft fingers trailed towards her hip. “Aye! This guy's alright!” The man holding her said.
The moment Sean reached her hip, he ripped the blade from her assailant's belt. The brigand stood surprised as his own blade slid through his chest. Sean twisted, earning a spurt of blood. The two brigands behind him drew their weapons. “Girl.” He said. “Jump from the dock and run.”
Dragonstone
Rank E. MT 4, HIT 80
(Ranged weapon)
(Magic weapon. Can use MAG)
(STR +3, MAG +5, SKL +3, SPD +2, DEF +4, RES +3)
Ice Dragonstone,
Rank D. MT 4, HIT 85
Turns into an Ice Dragon.
Deals Ice Damage.
[x2 DMG from Fire Weapons]
(STR +2, DEF +13, RES +9, SKL +7, SPD +3)
Fire Dragonstone
Rank D. MT 6, HIT 80
Turns into a Fire Dragon.
Deals Fire Damage.
(STR +6, DEF +6, RES +4, SKL +3, SPD +2)
Flying Dragonstone
Rank D. MT 4, HIT 85
Transforms into a Wyvern.
Deals Wind Damage.
[x2 DMG from Wind, Arrows]
(STR +1, DEF +6, RES +4, SKL +4, SPD +15)
Magic Dragon
Transforms into a Magic Dragon.
Deals MAG Damage.
[x2 DMG from items that deal double against Magical Units]
(MAG +7, DEF +4, RES +9, SKL +5, SPD -1)
Dragonstone +
Rank C. MT 8, HIT 70
(Ranged Weapon)
Magic weapon. Can use MAG)
(STR +8, MAG +6, SKL +5, DEF +13, RES +9)
The aggressor collapsed to the ground with his hands grasping at his wound, while the woman swung around behind her rescuer. However, contrary to his words, she remained by his side.
"Ho," she smiled, "You seem to have a penchant for trouble."
"You son of a half-troll!" one of the freebooters yelled as he brandished his blade, "You've rubbing up against the wrong band!" His companion twisted his neck around and bounced his shoulders, "We're gonna have your head for messing around with us, mate!"
The woman spoke in a hushed tone by his ear, "Will you be alright on your own? Two against one was never the fairest of matchups from what I just experienced." sean
Odd Rhythm: If a unit equipped with this skill has their turn set during an odd number in the turn order, they get +10 to their HIT and the enemy gets -10 to their HIT.
Wyrmsbane: Deals double damage against dragon units as long as the user is in beast form.
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