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Ghosts of Nottingham

Ghosts of Nottingham

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Deep within the twisting confines of Sherwood Forest, a band of 'ghosts' fights to right the wrongs of an unjust king.

782 readers have visited Ghosts of Nottingham since Jadeling Hawkins created it.

Introduction

Once, many years ago, a good king sat in the throne, and all was well. But upon the old king's untimely demise, lacking a declared heir the former Sheriff made his way to the crown. As the years passed the new king built up his treasury by stealing from his people, harshly punishing any who failed to provide taxes or protested.

And yet, so gradually that even those involved couldn't be sure when it started, a resistance developed. It started small; bags of gold delivered in the night to those at risk of finding themselves in the stocks, tax wagons stopped dead in the forest, innocents freed from public bonds. But over the years, the defenders of Nottingham have won informants and aids, and their numbers deep within Sherwood Forest have grown.

Now, the greedy king and the ghosts within the forest are at a quiet war. Will the king be dethroned and peace restored, or will the rebellion be crushed? Only time will tell...

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Browse All » 6 Settings to roleplay in

Medieval Nottingham

Medieval Nottingham by Jadeling Hawkins

Nottingham Shire, where lives king, briggands, outlaws and all those caught in between.

Sherwood Forest

Sherwood Forest by RolePlayGateway

A forest stretching beyond the eye's capacity, dense with ancient trees and accessible through a handful of carriage and foot paths twisting throughout...beware the bandits!

The Bandit Camp

The Bandit Camp by RolePlayGateway

Numerous huts, wrestling rings, practice areas and open hearths dot this clearing within the great Sherwood Forest. It is often ringing with the sound of the coarse laughter of Robyn Hood's merry men.

The Castle

The Castle by RolePlayGateway

The Castle where the king dwells with all of his subjects.

The Village of Nottingham

The Village of Nottingham by RolePlayGateway

A poor village sternly governed by a strict Sheriff and the king's favorite, Guy of Gisbourne. Complete with shops, stocks and tavern.

The Spotted Calf

The Spotted Calf by RolePlayGateway

The most popular tavern in Nottingham, always busy and well stocked with food, ale, and company of one variety or another.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 6 authors

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Lillian waited patiently for Zahra to compose herself, discretely looking away and taking a sudden interest in the dirt floor below them. When she had accomplished this, and took the strawberries, Lillian was glad to see she seemed to be enjoying the fruit, but even more so, she was surprised by Zahra’s sudden willingness to open up to her. Lillian had always had the impression that the Arab noblewoman had greatly disliked her, and yet here she was, talking about something that was most assuredly painful to her.

“I never knew my own father, so perhaps I cannot fully understand yer grief.” Lillian said quietly before she could stop herself. “But I do understand what it’s like to feel a stranger in land no one feels ye have business being in, more than I think ye know. I’m a bastard ye see, and people are rarely kind to a landless, lordless, peasant woman with a bastard child, especially when they’re not from yer province, and barely speak yer language.” Lillian confided.

“The way I see it milady, ye can spend yer time bemoaning yer loss, or direct ye focus to yer future. Yer smarter than most milady, if ye wish to avoid a future not of yer own making, uses yer witts, and work to change it.” Lillian advised kindly.

The setting changes from Medieval Nottingham to The Spotted Calf

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“She had to use Robert” muttered Cadfeal, as he limped along towards The Spotted Calf. It was the easiest of their combined personas that he could use, given his eye and outlaw status. Seeing as there could only be so many blind old men, he had to make sure with another character, John the Burned. The back story of John was that he had once been a blacksmith’s apprentice and had gotten trapped inside when the forge caught fire. He goes heavily bandaged, leaving only one eye uncovered to see with and his mouth, with a light baggy gray robe with hood. He also could barely walk and needed a staff to lean upon.

Luck was with him however, when he reached the inn. The door was being held open and he didn’t have to wait for someone to be coming or going to be let inside. However, he had missed the departure of the knight and his Arab lady. The yeoman didn’t know the man holding the door or the beggar besides him and quietly limped past them, entering the common room of the inn. He shuffled, stumbled and nearly fell, as he cross the warm room and finally collapsed into a bench near the corner.

“Oh me back” he groaned softly, his voice filled with pain, as he slow got into a sitting position.

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"Many thanks, I've not had a meal in thrice days," Lazarus spoke in a joyful tone, for it was the truth that he had not had a meal in three days. His spot of bad luck pertaining to the tight-pursed denizens of Nottingham had almost cost him his ruse when he began wandering the forest to hunt for game and a group of hunters stumbled upon him. Thankfully they had believed the lie that he was just a poor blind man who had just gotten lost in the woods.

"There are some who call me. . . Tim," Lazarus hesitated to give his real name in case of future retribution in which he would need another alias or his actual name. He was about to enter, his feet shuffling forward and his staff prodding for obstacle in his way, when the Arabic woman barged out of the Spotted Calf. "Aye, that it would, not that I would know the particulars of such happenstance," Lazarus replied to the knight with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

Continuing forwards Lazarus almost exploded with anger when he was cut off again. Does this town not have any sympathy for the downtrodden, do they not have any common courtesy? After thanking the knight for holding the door once more he caught a passing glance from beneath his hood of the man who cut him off. A poor fellow who seemed to have suffered probably from burns buy the looks of the bandages. Something was off though to Lazarus. If he was a burn victim, at least a few patches of scarred skin would show but from his quick glance he could not see any on his face. Alas though Lazarus dismissed it as nothing.

"Please, lead the way sire, I've not been here before and the building is not familiar to me."

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A quick grin flashed across Quinn’s face, “I once met an enchanter named…Tim.” As the burned and bandaged man jostled past them and into the tavern, Quinn’s grin turned to a frown as he gave the man a once over. Bandaged and hobbled, perhaps a man at arms who suffered at the hands of the Mohammadians. Shaking his head he reached out and guided Tim towards a small table, pulling a small stool out for the hunched man. “Sit Tim, tonight your stomach shall not want.” Removing his war sword, leaning it against the worn table, Quinn took the other stool. In the dim light of the tavern most would probably fail to notice the ruby cross in the weight on the end of the hilt, nor the crosses on the end of the guard.

Turning his attention towards the crowd he shouted, “Oi, food and drink here.” His hand waving towards the woman who seemed to be serving the gruel, glancing at Tim, he said “Forgive me if I do not drink with you. I have forsworn such until a…debt has been repaid.” Easing back on the stool, his legs extending out as he leaned against a wall, Quinn eyed the bandaged man again. “Tell me Tim, what of Nottingham? I would surmise a man without sight would have overheard much, being ignored I am sure, by those whose tongues wag.” As he spoke Quinn removed his gauntlets and laid them on the table, the chinking of the chain on wood soft. “Being a pilgrim I have heard the tales of the great “Hood” thus I am fearful of continuing my journey; I do not wish to be robbed of my meager possessions.”

While he spoke, Quinn’s eyes flowed over the crowd, lingering on none very long, merely gaining a quick assessment of those in the tavern.

The setting changes from The Spotted Calf to Medieval Nottingham

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"Are you advising me to throw off Sir Martin's guardianship?" said Zahra, in a tone that was not entirely joking.

Standing up, she fixed her veil across her face and dusted off her tunic, turning kohl-rimmed eyes towards the end of the alleyway. Though her pride was loathe to let her admit it, Lillian had made a point; a point that were Zahra better able to objectively judge her own situation she would not have hesitated to have made herself. Her father had placed her under Martin's supervision. But her father was a year dead- perhaps it was time Zahra wrote her own future.

"I will not declare myself a freewoman yet; I have neither means nor money. But one liberty at a time. I shall go for a walk around the city walls. Please tell Sir Martin I will return before dusk," she said, determined. Back in her father's estate, she'd often wandered the sun-bleached hills with the script her iman had set her to read. Somehow the physical freedom had been conducive to release of mental constraint. She would do the same here and by the time she returned to the tavern, she would have some idea of her path to independence and a means to support herself.

"Thank you for the fruit, Lillian. And tell Martin I will be safe; the walls are guarded, I will be in plain sight of the militia," she said, before she turned to leave. Zahra made it half way down the alley before she paused. "And might not your own advice, as good as it is, also be applied to yourself?"

With that, she went out into the weak sunlight and turned right, weaving her way through the bustling market crowds, ignoring the whispers and stares and making for the relative solitude of the city walls.

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"Are you advising me to throw off Sir Martin's guardianship?" said Zahra, in a tone that was not entirely joking.

That was not even remotely what Lillian had been saying, and now she was feeling a bit uncomfortable at what could be perceived as planting seeds of danger in her head. She had been advising Zahra to stop moping, and focus her energies on the future. Lillian had only known Martin for a short time, but he seemed a kind and just enough soul. He would not sent her to a future fate that would ensure a life of misery. She hesitated to use the word manipulate, but it was true the men, and indeed anyone in general, were much more willing to help you when shown a kind or polite demeanour, versus a cold, rude, or disdainful one.

"Thank you for the fruit, Lillian. And tell Martin I will be safe; the walls are guarded, I will be in plain sight of the militia," she said, before she turned to leave. Zahra made it half way down the alley before she paused. "And might not your own advice, as good as it is, also be applied to yourself?"

“Ye are more likely to see him than I milady. I doubt he’ll have stayed in that tavern long after ye left, mother hen that he is.” Lillian said quietly as Zahra looked to wish to take a walk. “All the same milady, try to be careful. There are those in these walls, guarded they may be, who might wish ye harm for but yer appearance. If any a scoundrel tries and pesters ye, don’t be prideful, and use Martin’s name…or better yet his cousin’s.

Zahra’s last statement left Lillian with conflicting feelings of confusion and melancholy. The kind of rules for a woman to better her position in this world she had suggested did not apply to women of her class. Zahra was a noble woman, under another noble’s protection. She was protected, no man could make a move again her or act upon lust for her without retribution, men must treat her with chivalry (even if she was from the Holy Lands), and she would likely marry into a comfortable life of wealth. Lillian however, had no such rights; she had had that lesson pounded into her from childhood. Her mother had never told her the story, but being a banished serf as well has raising a bastard child, it was not hard to piece together a story. Her father had probably been a soldier of some sort on that estate, and as many guards did, had his way with her mother, one of the young peasant girl who lived there. Few lords cared if their serfs were used like this, she’d hear tale many did so themselves. It was the circumstances of her mother’s banishment that Lillian never quite understood, but that was in the past, and Lillian had always been one to look forward, not back.

And so Lillian headed back towards the tavern, and once inside, as predicted, Martin was not there. Sighing gently, she moved towards the back of the tavern. Lillian had not been as effected by her rape as some women were. She was not skittish around men in general, nor did she feel unbearably self conscious around them, but she still felt nervous when groups of men would stare at her, especially when they were drunk.

“Oh me back”

Lillian heard the groan come from nearby, and looked to her right to see what looked like an old man with and eye patch and wrappings all over. Was he in serious pain? Lillian approached him slowly, taking a seat on the bench next to him.

“Are ye alright?” She asked with a bit of uncertain concern.

The setting changes from Medieval Nottingham to The Spotted Calf

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"Oh aye child" said Cadfeal, turning to look at the young woman that joined him at his lonely table. He'd never seen her before, not in this tavern or even in his travels in the surround area and even though there was concern in her voice, he could think of only one reason for a strange woman to approach a man in a tavern. She wasn't dressed like a whore, her clothing wasn't loose enough and didn't display enough cleavage. So why was she here? A sudden fear of spies was sparked in his mind (the irony was he was here as a spymaster, come to collect information from his contacts).

"Pay no mind to old burned John" he continued, "I just be achin all day. When some young tavern girl comes with ale, I be doin better."

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“I be glad to hear it.” Lillian replied, glad the old man didn’t seem to have hurt himself, but there still just seemed to be something off about him. She didn’t know what it was exactly that inspired this notion, but she assumed it meant he wasn’t quite as fine as he said he was. Old men did have a tendency to put up stubborn strong fronts after all.

“How did ye get all those burns?” Lillian asked with an almost puzzled look. Most people she’d heard who’d been caught in fires, usually died in them, or at least didn’t last long after. This man would have to have been made of rather strong stuff to have survived to such an old age, with burns so server they still had to be wrapped.

“If ye don’t mind me asking.” Lillian amended kindly in case he didn’t wish to speak of the incident. She still didn’t like talking about rape, but for the bare minuscule facts, and had never gone into detail to anyone, not even her rescuers. Not that he’d had to hear from her to know what had happened. A looted cart, a murdered step father next to it, and a young woman with clothes shredded and nearly ripped off completely, and beaten horribly along side the road painted quite a clear picture. She could understand quite clearly if he didn’t wish to speak of such a traumatic experience.

“I’m Lillian.” She offered with a kind enough smile. “I hope I’m not bothering ye John, but ‘twould appear I’ll be waiting here for some time, and ye seem as good a man as any to talk to.” And safe; she thought offhandedly. While she wasn’t afraid of men in general, Lillian wasn’t fool enough to sit at a table alone with this number of drunken men about. There appeared to be plenty of tavern whores in this particular establishment, but she didn’t feel like taking chances either.

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"You need not worry about not partaking in drink with me, it is a serious transgression to give your fellow man strong drink, and I would not care for such a honorable man such as your self to be blemished by anything that I might do while drunken with ale or mead or anyother such drink," Lazarus smiled, glad to see honor in such a man. Many of the monkish habits that he had picked up while staying at the monestary had stuck with him through out the years. Refusal to let strong drink pass his lips being one of them.

"This 'hood', if you are a right and honorable man, you will not have any fear from him, if you are not and line your self with the tyrant king of this land, then perhaps you will have something to fear Quinn, but such an honorable knight such as your self would not sully your self with such a man, would you?" Lazarus was not fond of the king, nor was he of any other lord of the land. Though unlike this 'Hood' running about, Lazarus didn't really want to do anything about it. If some part of the local government wasted their time with him, he'd just pull up steaks and move on.

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"Damnation" Cadfeal thought to himself, "This is not what I wanted to have happen."

All he wanted was for this young tavern girl to go away. He didn't know if she was new to the trade of whoring or just very good at it. Most would have given given a little speech, that went boiled down meant "do you want to bed me?" and when he didn't offer them a drink or take her upstairs for a romp, they would have left, looking for another patron for the night. It was a rare and skilled girl that could make you think she cared for you, made you feel good on more then just a physical level. Still, he wasn't looking for that right now, all he wanted as a tankard and to sit alone until his favorite girl in the place made her arrival at his table. However, he was in character tonight and John was a friendly fellow (for he had no way of making a living and required the good will of others to eat).

"It were a fire oh course" he said, "I apprenticed in a smithy. One night, me the old master smith was workin late and the forge caught fire. Being the first ta arrive, I ran inside like some fool hero, lookin for Old Nick. Some of 'm beams fell atop me and I caught fire, like I was some demon from well. Don't know how I got out but when I woke days later, I was all bandaged and aching somethin dreadful. Course that was an age ago and I can't rightly remember everythin like I used ta."

The story of John the Burned was true enough. Nearly thirty years ago, in a town north of the forest, there had been a blacksmith named Nick and he was teaching a lad named John when he forge caught fire. No one really knew if John had been trapped in the fire with his teacher, ran in to try and save him or set the fire after killing Old Nick but after that night, John wasn't seen again (and he was a local boy) and they only found a few bones in the ashes. Anything could have happened.

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“Oh I’m sorry ta hear that.” Lillian said sincerely to John, as he told her his story. He seemed like a kind and friendly enough old man, and it saddened her to think someone’s future had been brought to such a violent end like that. She imagined there could have been an entirely different old man before her today if the fire hadn’t struck; strong, healthy, perhaps even with grown children of his own to teach and help care for him. And yet he did not appear bitter, he had undoubtedly worked through those feelings long ago, and she admired him for it.

“I’m sure ye would have made a fine smithy. Perhaps ye could always instruct a young lad or two on technique if ever yer in need of coin. My mother’s husband was a smithy, and he’d go through lads looking to apprentice often. They rarely stayed ‘round long though, after they realized how hard the work really was. He was a good smithy though, could make swords and everything. He even taught me a thing or two with the forge. I can’t make swords, or anything so intricate ye see, but I can shoe a horse and repair cracked armor nice and strong.” Lillian explained, hoping not to bore John overly much. The boys from her step father’s Provence in France had always been over excitable, and easily bored. None had stayed around long once they’d realized it would take years of training and hard work to achieve the skill necessary to make weapons. Her stepfather however, had been surprisingly patient and mellow for a Frenchman, and had gotten in somewhat of a routine with the lads, not wanting to distract from his work as he knew they’d be gone within the week, perhaps a fortnight tops.

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Delia was about ten feet away from the two men who were supping together. She had heard the rolling, disguised voice of The Hood's right hand, and debated long enough with herself about who to see to first (if she left Cadfael long enough, someone else would get to him; but what if something good could be gleaned from the men?) that another young woman took a seat next to him. Gnawing her lip in frustration, she moved towards the two men, only to hear one of them declining anything to drink.

Delia rolled her eyes a bit and turned back on her heel, heading towards Cadfael in disguise and the woman who was practically petting his head. She pursed her lips a bit, then put on a buttery smile as she came to stand in front of the pair.

"Why, if t'isn't old John! Here to stir up trouble with me patrons, are ye? Old rascal. I'd advise ye keep yer distance, lass, he may play the injured kitten but he's quite the cad when 'is bound hands are free! So what'll ye have, John? Or is it straight to bed wiv ye an' the ale I already smell on ye?" Delia cocked one brow and balanced her empty tray on one ample hip, every ounce the tavern wench that any of her fellow girls could play.

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"Oh no lass" said Cadfeal, "Old John never had the strength ta lift a smithin hammer, after ta fire, nor were I apprenticed long ta Old Nick. Me skills were too basic for me ta be teachin 'em young fellows nor could I have the art of teachin. And what was ye're father doin teachin a pretty young thing like ye ta work a forge for? "em lovely hands oh ye're should no burns from workin metals but should be holdin fine needle work."

It was then that rescue arrived. Before this strange woman could say more about her past or try to dig more into the history of "John the Burned", the yeoman's favorite tavern wench made an appearance. he might have leaped up from the table and kissed her, if such an act would have given away that he was only acting the old cripple. Instead he laughed softly, like a man who old bag of tricks had been laid bare by an old friend and now knew that his attempts at wooing a maid were at an end (and he wasn't considering clobbering the aforementioned friend).

"I only had a few cups" Cadfeal protested as he stood up, the laughter still on his lips, "Though the good beds of the inn do be soundin fine. Mayhaps ye could lead me ta one ah the empty rooms? Then bring a mug ah good ale and some stew? I had a wanderin father give me ah hold silver penny taday. That should extend the keep's generosity for a while yet."

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"Oh, ye ould rascal," Delia tsked and shook her head, taking the 'old man's' arm and helping him to his feet like a patient nurse. She gave the girl a sigh and another shake of her head as she worked an arm around the bent waist of the problem patron. "Count yer blessings that ye've not been talked into 'elpin' 'im to his 'horse outside,' lass. The last girlie he talked into 'elpin' 'im won't come within a stone's throw of this place these days. Were it not for the law of charity, we'd not let 'im come an' bother us no more. But alas, we be bound by a higher good. Come along then, an' bring yer silver penny with ye!"

"Rachel! Will ye bring about a bowl 'o stew for the lass here? Thank'ee, thank'ee," Delia called to one of her fellow serving girls as she reloaded her tray and guided the crippled old blacksmith apprentice towards the stairs. She nudged two drunks out of the way, shooting them playfully reproachful looks as they gave her pinches in return. Then she wound her way up the rickety stairs, past a few doors with varying scratches and holes carved into them, dark patches of wood where candles had burned too close, and leftover daggers and scraps of paper wedged into the walls.

At last, she came to a door whose room housed a particular window; it opened onto the back door, which faced the forest. She led the hobbling man inside, and busied herself arranging the tray, the drink and the stew on a small table next to the door. "Are ye greaty wearied, Old John? Or did ye have a bit of energy left in yer old bones for a talk?"

So it always was when the man with the eyepatch visited; Delia treated him as whatever guise he came wearing until he had initiated anything different.

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Medieval Nottingham

Medieval Nottingham by Jadeling Hawkins

Nottingham Shire, where lives king, briggands, outlaws and all those caught in between.

Sherwood Forest

Sherwood Forest by RolePlayGateway

A forest stretching beyond the eye's capacity, dense with ancient trees and accessible through a handful of carriage and foot paths twisting throughout...beware the bandits!

The Bandit Camp

The Bandit Camp by RolePlayGateway

Numerous huts, wrestling rings, practice areas and open hearths dot this clearing within the great Sherwood Forest. It is often ringing with the sound of the coarse laughter of Robyn Hood's merry men.

The Castle

The Castle by RolePlayGateway

The Castle where the king dwells with all of his subjects.

The Village of Nottingham

The Village of Nottingham by RolePlayGateway

A poor village sternly governed by a strict Sheriff and the king's favorite, Guy of Gisbourne. Complete with shops, stocks and tavern.

The Spotted Calf

The Spotted Calf by RolePlayGateway

The most popular tavern in Nottingham, always busy and well stocked with food, ale, and company of one variety or another.

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View All » Add Character » 12 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Robyn Hood
Character Portrait: Quinn Balfour
Character Portrait: Sir Martin of Essex
Character Portrait: Cadfeal Hanham
Character Portrait: Guy of Gisbourne
Character Portrait: Delia Anwyl
Character Portrait: Zahra Bint Akhtar al-Hashimi
Character Portrait: Lillian of Flanders
Character Portrait: Lazarus Kingsbane

Newest

Character Portrait: Lazarus Kingsbane
Lazarus Kingsbane

A mischievous vagabond and occasional thief who happens to be wandering through Nottingham.

Character Portrait: Lillian of Flanders
Lillian of Flanders

Illegitimate daughter of unknown (to her) origins, and devoted servant of Sir Martin of Essex.

Character Portrait: Zahra Bint Akhtar al-Hashimi
Zahra Bint Akhtar al-Hashimi

A young Arab woman cut adrift in a foreign country by the crusades that ravaged her homeland.

Character Portrait: Delia Anwyl
Delia Anwyl

A tavern wench at The Spotted Calf.

Character Portrait: Guy of Gisbourne
Guy of Gisbourne

The king's second in command in Nottingham, Guy is cruel, determined and vulnerable.

Character Portrait: Cadfeal Hanham
Cadfeal Hanham

Yeoman and Robyn's right hand man

Character Portrait: Sir Martin of Essex
Sir Martin of Essex

Just and reserved English knight.

Character Portrait: Quinn Balfour
Quinn Balfour

A Knight Templar destined to wander the land, following the lords direction.

Character Portrait: Robyn Hood
Robyn Hood

The 'Ghost' of Sherwood Forest, sworn enemy of the king and his allies, sworn defender of the people of Nottingham.

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Character Portrait: Cadfeal Hanham
Cadfeal Hanham

Yeoman and Robyn's right hand man

Character Portrait: Robyn Hood
Robyn Hood

The 'Ghost' of Sherwood Forest, sworn enemy of the king and his allies, sworn defender of the people of Nottingham.

Character Portrait: Quinn Balfour
Quinn Balfour

A Knight Templar destined to wander the land, following the lords direction.

Character Portrait: Sir Martin of Essex
Sir Martin of Essex

Just and reserved English knight.

Character Portrait: Lazarus Kingsbane
Lazarus Kingsbane

A mischievous vagabond and occasional thief who happens to be wandering through Nottingham.

Character Portrait: Guy of Gisbourne
Guy of Gisbourne

The king's second in command in Nottingham, Guy is cruel, determined and vulnerable.

Character Portrait: Delia Anwyl
Delia Anwyl

A tavern wench at The Spotted Calf.

Character Portrait: Zahra Bint Akhtar al-Hashimi
Zahra Bint Akhtar al-Hashimi

A young Arab woman cut adrift in a foreign country by the crusades that ravaged her homeland.

Character Portrait: Lillian of Flanders
Lillian of Flanders

Illegitimate daughter of unknown (to her) origins, and devoted servant of Sir Martin of Essex.

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Character Portrait: Cadfeal Hanham
Cadfeal Hanham

Yeoman and Robyn's right hand man

Character Portrait: Quinn Balfour
Quinn Balfour

A Knight Templar destined to wander the land, following the lords direction.

Character Portrait: Lillian of Flanders
Lillian of Flanders

Illegitimate daughter of unknown (to her) origins, and devoted servant of Sir Martin of Essex.

Character Portrait: Delia Anwyl
Delia Anwyl

A tavern wench at The Spotted Calf.

Character Portrait: Zahra Bint Akhtar al-Hashimi
Zahra Bint Akhtar al-Hashimi

A young Arab woman cut adrift in a foreign country by the crusades that ravaged her homeland.

Character Portrait: Robyn Hood
Robyn Hood

The 'Ghost' of Sherwood Forest, sworn enemy of the king and his allies, sworn defender of the people of Nottingham.

Character Portrait: Lazarus Kingsbane
Lazarus Kingsbane

A mischievous vagabond and occasional thief who happens to be wandering through Nottingham.

Character Portrait: Sir Martin of Essex
Sir Martin of Essex

Just and reserved English knight.

Character Portrait: Guy of Gisbourne
Guy of Gisbourne

The king's second in command in Nottingham, Guy is cruel, determined and vulnerable.


View All » Places

Medieval Nottingham

Medieval Nottingham by Jadeling Hawkins

Nottingham Shire, where lives king, briggands, outlaws and all those caught in between.

Sherwood Forest

Sherwood Forest by RolePlayGateway

A forest stretching beyond the eye's capacity, dense with ancient trees and accessible through a handful of carriage and foot paths twisting throughout...beware the bandits!

The Bandit Camp

The Bandit Camp by RolePlayGateway

Numerous huts, wrestling rings, practice areas and open hearths dot this clearing within the great Sherwood Forest. It is often ringing with the sound of the coarse laughter of Robyn Hood's merry men.

The Castle

The Castle by RolePlayGateway

The Castle where the king dwells with all of his subjects.

The Village of Nottingham

The Village of Nottingham by RolePlayGateway

A poor village sternly governed by a strict Sheriff and the king's favorite, Guy of Gisbourne. Complete with shops, stocks and tavern.

The Spotted Calf

The Spotted Calf by RolePlayGateway

The most popular tavern in Nottingham, always busy and well stocked with food, ale, and company of one variety or another.

The Spotted Calf

The most popular tavern in Nottingham, always busy and well stocked with food, ale, and company of one variety or another.

Medieval Nottingham

Nottingham Shire, where lives king, briggands, outlaws and all those caught in between.

The Bandit Camp

Sherwood Forest The Bandit Camp Owner: RolePlayGateway

Numerous huts, wrestling rings, practice areas and open hearths dot this clearing within the great Sherwood Forest. It is often ringing with the sound of the coarse laughter of Robyn Hood's merry men.

The Castle

Medieval Nottingham The Castle Owner: RolePlayGateway

The Castle where the king dwells with all of his subjects.

Sherwood Forest

A forest stretching beyond the eye's capacity, dense with ancient trees and accessible through a handful of carriage and foot paths twisting throughout...beware the bandits!

The Village of Nottingham

A poor village sternly governed by a strict Sheriff and the king's favorite, Guy of Gisbourne. Complete with shops, stocks and tavern.

Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » Ghosts of Nottingham: Out of Character

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Most recent OOC posts in Ghosts of Nottingham

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

Hm...anyone still interested in going for this? I'm still very much wanting this story to work, but having at least one other active player is sort of necessary for that to happen. If no one is interested, do you at least know someone else who might be? Do we need to just skip forward to a more interesting section? Let me know...

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

Well, I was worried about holding people back, but I'm glad to see I'm not, and to Skall, don't worry about getting a reply up, I'm not in a big hurry.

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

Sure, involve Gisbourne with the tavern scene. Maybe he goes out to meet the Templar for himself? Quinn doesn't know about Gisbourne, after all. And Gis seems to be the sort of Guy (hur) to take advantage of that situation.

And I'll have Robyn scouting the edge of the woods >>

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

OK, I'll send Zahra out around the walls on the edge of the forest. Not really sure what to do with Gisbourne at the moment. Any ideas? Perhaps he could send a few men to the tavern to do a bit of spying...

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

Hey everyone, sorry about the long wait. Working on a multi-faceted, big project that has absorbed a lot of the time I have outside of work. I'll try to get at least one post a day up from now on!

And in regards to the notice on replies, Remaeus is actually aware of this and has told me that he's probing the problem. Until then, the best I do for myself is to have a bookmark of the roleplays in the tab, and that eliminates at least a little of the hangtime in checking for replies.

Also, I've realized that jealous Delia is fun XD

Also also, I'd like to figure a way to get Robyn back in the game. It's weird for me not having her active. Hrm...maybe she can run in Zahra or something...heh! Zahra is looking for freedom, after all!

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

I kinda wish the new system had a way of telling us when someone's posted or not. It's sort of a pain to constantly go back and forth to check to see if someone's posted, especially when you're eagerly waiting someone else's next post.

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

Sorry about the long absence, I'm going to be with out internet for awhile. I'll try to keep up as best I can, but I'm not sure how well that will be. My posts will probably be a few days apart, maybe a week at the most. I'll write Lazarus into the background so you guys won't have to worry about me holding you all up. Again sorry for the long time between posts.

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

Actually, IW, Koh has approached Cadfael. I was originally going to have Delia go straight up to Cad, but figured I'd wait a bit to see if someone else wanted to, and Koh got there, so...I was waiting for that to play out.

I was also going to have Delia approach the other two men who are engaging in the battle of mistaken identity, but wanted to at least wait until Conqueror Man posted again. CM, are you out there?

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

I was going to rant and curse about the tab function not updating me on posts in this roleplay....but nothing has happened in the scene I'm in....in over a week.

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

Lawl! Very true, Northern, a few of those things gave me pause, too (especially the Magna Carta bit...that was just...weird). But I try to judge movies based on the overall, and since my big worry was that it was going to take the Robin Hood story and turn it into an uber dramatic soap opera type thing...I went away satisfied.

Probably my favorite part, though, was Little John's flirtation method. "Hey, she's about my size. I want to make her smile. HEY, COME 'ERE! I WANT TO MAKE YOU SMILE!!"

The weirdest thing to me, out of it all, was the whole...blind yeoman...giving Robin the news about his past...with some psychedelic arm-touch thing...I still don't get it.

As a whole, however, I stand by my 'entertaining' rating.

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

Conquerer Man no worries we all have life that takes precedence over the gooey goodness that is a collaborative writing project. I like the idea of the new Robin Hood being historically accurate, I try to follow it in my writings and as Jade can attest I am well versed in writing from a knight's perspective as well as a pirates....lol

Anyway yes I am enjoying the case of mistaken identity myself, I am looking forward to seeing how it will all play out.

Skall

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

Oh god, really? I watched it the other day and thought it was pretty horrendous... Half the cinema actually burst out laughing at the 'an Englishman's home is his castle' line and the slow-mo 'Nooooo!' during the D-day landing at the end. Plus Robin Hood's dad wrote the Magna Carta? Really?

And I'm not even going to go into Russell Crowe's accent...

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

No worries Conqueror, take care of outside life first before you indulge in awesome writing banquets.

I do look forward to seeing what becomes of this case of mistaken identity, though!!

I went and saw the new Robin Hood movie last night. I've been a RH fan since I was less than a tot, and I'm always a little anxious about seeing or reading new interpretations of it. It's such an old story, and the definition of 'art' these days (art=tragedy) that it's just so easy to come up with a crappy soap opera drama wail fest...which is true for just about anything, I suppose, but as important as the Robin Hood stories were to me when I was a kid, it's always been a little closer to me.

So, I was concerned, after seeing the preview, that it was going to turn out more like 'Braveheart' (goodbyyyyye historical accuracy...) than anything else.

However: I loved it. It was more historically accurate than dramatic, if you know anything about Richard, John, and all of the other players involved, but still meshed the legend into it all. I would definitely promote it, if anyone is in need of inspiration or just a good nearly 3 hour movie :)

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

Hey guys, I want to appologize, mainly to Skall, because I will not be able to post until tomorrow night. Reason being is that I'm having t fix the fence on our propertiy after a storm last night blew down sections of it. Maybe, if times willing, I might be able to post it tomorrow morning or afternoon.

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

Well this indeed looks as if some interesting happenings shall occur soon. Nottingham will certainly be a very busy place to be as this tapestry unfolds.

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

Conqueror_Man, you are more than welcome. I look forward to seeing you active!

Just so everyone knows, I accidentally posted my post with the king twice, so I edited one of them to be a post with Robyn.

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

Just wanted to say thank you for the approval Jadeling. I'll probably find a good place to start somewhere in The Village of Nottingham and wait until I can start off with interacting with someone.

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

OK... I've posted once with Zahra and will again in The Spotted Calf and with Gisbourne in the castle once I've figured out what the hell is going on... Having these multiple places under the tab system seems only to complicate things without actually adding anything to the RP.

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

That's a good point, Skall. I know at least once I've forgotten to switch the location to where I was actually posting...and I'm the one who put in the time making the places!

I like what we've got going on so far; having Robyn on day-time ghostie duty has been fun :)

One thing I've been mulling over while reading some of these posts has been the Prince John/King Richard issue.

Traditionally, and in most of the legends, the monarchs involved are Prince John and his crusading brother, King Richard (as I'm sure we're all aware). However, I try to shy away from using historical figures, so that the artistic license doesn't have to be compromised against historic fact.

In the description of the game, I say that the past king was a good man, died unexpectedly, and was replaced by the former Sheriff. However, several people have, IC, made references to John and Richard.

So I think that the official route we're going to take is a combination of the two: the current king was the former Sheriff, and his name is John.

Re: [OOC] Ghosts of Nottingham

I think the only issue I have will be that people have to remember where they are posting. To keep the story flowing properly we have to continue our posts in locales where they start unless they are split posts between two characters in two separate locations. A notation of where the second location is often helps so people can respond, such as Nottingham: Robyn Hood and Prince John, Spotted Calf: Delia and Cadfeal. This helps with continuity.

Just a suggestion.

Skall