Lord Zee
Vec
JFK
Fetzen
Thayr
BingTheWing
@Cyclone Since I already made the map you're on the wrong spot this turn, but I will fix when next turn arrives, don't worry!
Thanks!
Cyclone
Member
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Bio
Back when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, I got started with writing online on the Spore forums. Man, those were the days. We're talking like 12 years ago 2010-ish!
I've been here on and off for almost as long, and have GM'd a bunch of different things to varying success.
I've been here on and off for almost as long, and have GM'd a bunch of different things to varying success.
Word of my splendor:
Most Recent Posts
Thanks!
@KaiserAuto
It's fine, I think he's just implying that there might be war. That's okay, without a few battles this RP wouldn't be as interesting.
It's fine, I think he's just implying that there might be war. That's okay, without a few battles this RP wouldn't be as interesting.
The bows of our great ships cut through the mist like swords through the soft flesh of lesser men. After many days of sailing, fleeing from Father Frost and the frigid grip that he has sent to slowly claim our once habitable lands, we at last found shore. Not many of us were left; as our homeland has grown colder the crops died, cattle died, kindred died. Their blue, hoarfrost-coated bodies now rest beneath a grave of snow, the blizzards having claimed every last rock and tree of our island.
Fortunately, many had been wise enough to sense the winds of change. Acting preemptively, they ceased participation in the endless wars and feuds of our belligerent tribes, and devoted every moment of their waking moments to finding a way to escape our lands before the ever colder winters killed us all. Some prayed to Father Frost for mercy, some to the Fire Giants of legend for their return, and others took the matter upon themselves and built great boats that could sail for days.
Those that prayed froze like everyone else. The boatbuilders also died. They were the wisest of us, yet they were weak and unworthy. We, the Ards, the last tribe alive, grew stronger from the frigid winds and ceaseless snow. When the great ships had at last been built from the last trees of our island and filled to the brim with the last supplies that our kind had to offer, our mighty warriors made their move. The boatbuilders' blood stained the snows as we fell upon them, leaving their cold bodies behind as we stole their ships, for the endless winter has made us strong; our hearts are cold and some say that ice flows through our veins. Led by Danr, our great Chieftain, we sailed south for many days in search of warmer lands.
We heard land before we saw it; the sound of mighty waves crashing upon the fjords boomed like thunder. Many of our ships were caught in the currents and pushed into the rocky cliffs, broken and toppled, those families aboard condemned to watery graves as the rest of us were helpless to do anything yet steer away from them, lest our ships wreck as well. As we sailed around that bleak island and saw nothing but cold and wet stone and sheer cliff faces, we deemed life upon that wretched rock impossible and sailed on further south.
Now, we have at last spotted another land, and this one is much larger and lively than any we have seen before. There are great forests of pine where our fatherland had naught but the occasional, lonely tree poking out from the thin and rocky soil. The snows still fall, but we are Father Winter's chosen people. If the cold takes chase, we will move further south, but until then, this land is comfortable. The cold winds that would freeze lesser men fall upon our bare chests and feel warm in contrast to the bitter cold that even the youngest of us remember. This will be our new homeland. Upon beaching our ships upon the shores of this new land, our Jarl Danr made of them a sacrifice to the gods and put them to the torch. With our great ships now reduced to ashes on the beach, and the knowledge of their construction known only by the dead boatbuilders, there is no turning back for us.
Our fatherland once had tens of thousands of people, but then the cold winds swept away the lesser tribes. We, the Ards, once had many more people as well, but our long and harsh journey has culled the weak. Now, the remaining 250 of us are strong. We will build a new home and become a great tribe once more.
Fortunately, many had been wise enough to sense the winds of change. Acting preemptively, they ceased participation in the endless wars and feuds of our belligerent tribes, and devoted every moment of their waking moments to finding a way to escape our lands before the ever colder winters killed us all. Some prayed to Father Frost for mercy, some to the Fire Giants of legend for their return, and others took the matter upon themselves and built great boats that could sail for days.
Those that prayed froze like everyone else. The boatbuilders also died. They were the wisest of us, yet they were weak and unworthy. We, the Ards, the last tribe alive, grew stronger from the frigid winds and ceaseless snow. When the great ships had at last been built from the last trees of our island and filled to the brim with the last supplies that our kind had to offer, our mighty warriors made their move. The boatbuilders' blood stained the snows as we fell upon them, leaving their cold bodies behind as we stole their ships, for the endless winter has made us strong; our hearts are cold and some say that ice flows through our veins. Led by Danr, our great Chieftain, we sailed south for many days in search of warmer lands.
We heard land before we saw it; the sound of mighty waves crashing upon the fjords boomed like thunder. Many of our ships were caught in the currents and pushed into the rocky cliffs, broken and toppled, those families aboard condemned to watery graves as the rest of us were helpless to do anything yet steer away from them, lest our ships wreck as well. As we sailed around that bleak island and saw nothing but cold and wet stone and sheer cliff faces, we deemed life upon that wretched rock impossible and sailed on further south.
Now, we have at last spotted another land, and this one is much larger and lively than any we have seen before. There are great forests of pine where our fatherland had naught but the occasional, lonely tree poking out from the thin and rocky soil. The snows still fall, but we are Father Winter's chosen people. If the cold takes chase, we will move further south, but until then, this land is comfortable. The cold winds that would freeze lesser men fall upon our bare chests and feel warm in contrast to the bitter cold that even the youngest of us remember. This will be our new homeland. Upon beaching our ships upon the shores of this new land, our Jarl Danr made of them a sacrifice to the gods and put them to the torch. With our great ships now reduced to ashes on the beach, and the knowledge of their construction known only by the dead boatbuilders, there is no turning back for us.
Our fatherland once had tens of thousands of people, but then the cold winds swept away the lesser tribes. We, the Ards, once had many more people as well, but our long and harsh journey has culled the weak. Now, the remaining 250 of us are strong. We will build a new home and become a great tribe once more.
BTW @Cyclone and @KaiserAuto, northeast isn't a wintery landscape. Just to make it clear. The northwestern coast would be a colder climate.
Edit: Making a new post btw. Working on map atm.
Edit 2: @barkmeat2 Thanks bro! It's thanks to all your backstories ofc.
@ActRaiserTheReturned That's a lot of space... But I'll put you somewhere in the forests between the two.
Can I be moved to northwest then?
<Snipped quote by Cyclone>
I would allow you to being highly adapted to cold climates and have a high resistance to cold, but I wont make you immune to it. You can simply be a breed of humans that have very bad magic ability and high resistance+adaptability to cold climates. How does that sound?
I'm happy with that.
I'm a little bit confused on how to proceed as people seem to be doing it differently, with some giving away information here and others putting it in their IC posts. I guess I'll just start by providing the basics here.
I don't really have much choice in color since so many are taken, so just pick one that looks distinct from the other ones nearby. If you forgot, I wanted to be placed in the far northeast coast. The settlement can be called Njor, and I'm calling my nation itself Ard.
<Snipped quote by Cyclone>
So humans... Can't you just make vikings, then? I'm sorry but all these custom races are starting to confuse me to the point where I can't keep track.
I'd think that having no magic and being immune to cold makes them different enough. If you think it's fine to have humans like that, then sure.
Can I join and have my spot on the very northeast coast, as far north as possible?
Also, how is this for a custom race?
Ards
-Good morale
-Above average in stature
-Above average in strength
-Average reproduction
-Average intelligence/cunning
-Average tech
-Below average diplomacy
-Below average lifespan (rarely live to 40s)
-No magic
-Almost immune to cold and thrive in cold regions
-Dislike temperate and warm areas, a bit uncomfortable in temperate weather and weakened in the heat
Basically slightly stronger humans, except with no magic. And they like cold places. Inspired by Vikings.
Also, how is this for a custom race?
Ards
-Good morale
-Above average in stature
-Above average in strength
-Average reproduction
-Average intelligence/cunning
-Average tech
-Below average diplomacy
-Below average lifespan (rarely live to 40s)
-No magic
-Almost immune to cold and thrive in cold regions
-Dislike temperate and warm areas, a bit uncomfortable in temperate weather and weakened in the heat
Basically slightly stronger humans, except with no magic. And they like cold places. Inspired by Vikings.
In
Dungeon Keepers (This one's done. Go to The Horde of Evil instead)
→
11 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
The monsters were swift to take chase. Running with astonishing speed for creatures of their stature, two of the fleeing people were caught. Five of the horrors began to feast on the corpses in plain sight, right on the small streets away from the market where they had managed to catch the fleeing people. As in for the remaining seven monsters, two were drawn to the abandoned goods by the smell of meat and animal feed.
The remaining five had chased some other the other running humans, but to no avail; the fortunate people had managed to bar themselves inside nearby buildings. The doors were confusing to the dimwitted monsters. Keenly aware of their prey's presence within the buildings yet unable to force their way through the doors or open them, the monsters merely let out a caucophony of horrific sounds. Gutteral roars accompanied banging on the walls and the sounds of feet scurrying atop the roof. One of the bloodstone horrors managed to find discover a chimney thick enough for it to fit through, and the beast clambered down it and into the home.
As in for the hulking construct, he was not distracted by the fleeing humans so much as what overwhelmed his senses. The smells of the small town, the sounds of the people eating and working and breathing, the warmth of the dying sun's rays all served to bombard the bloodstone behemoth with a thousand impressions that he had never felt before.
The disorientation rendered by these sensations combined with the distress caused by Moggotheddon's torment that had driven the horrors upwards caused a blind rage. With a mighty roar and footsteps that shook the earth and left impressions in the cobbled roads and plaza, the beast lumbered through the streets, crashing through buildings in his way. The huge stony beast was so heavy that his momentum alone carried him through any wall or door that stood in his path as he went on a blind rampage, smashing things that gave off bewildering sounds or smells.
The remaining five had chased some other the other running humans, but to no avail; the fortunate people had managed to bar themselves inside nearby buildings. The doors were confusing to the dimwitted monsters. Keenly aware of their prey's presence within the buildings yet unable to force their way through the doors or open them, the monsters merely let out a caucophony of horrific sounds. Gutteral roars accompanied banging on the walls and the sounds of feet scurrying atop the roof. One of the bloodstone horrors managed to find discover a chimney thick enough for it to fit through, and the beast clambered down it and into the home.
As in for the hulking construct, he was not distracted by the fleeing humans so much as what overwhelmed his senses. The smells of the small town, the sounds of the people eating and working and breathing, the warmth of the dying sun's rays all served to bombard the bloodstone behemoth with a thousand impressions that he had never felt before.
The disorientation rendered by these sensations combined with the distress caused by Moggotheddon's torment that had driven the horrors upwards caused a blind rage. With a mighty roar and footsteps that shook the earth and left impressions in the cobbled roads and plaza, the beast lumbered through the streets, crashing through buildings in his way. The huge stony beast was so heavy that his momentum alone carried him through any wall or door that stood in his path as he went on a blind rampage, smashing things that gave off bewildering sounds or smells.
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