Dinh AaronMk

Skiddaddle Skidoodle

my dick fell off

@Raddum

THOT DETECTED

Forgotten Worlds

@Willy Vereb

I'm going to be upfront and honest. You're not doing yourself a whole lot of favors man.

Forgotten Worlds

The Peruscoti Estate, Audre Grani

Pedro Peruscoti paced across the floor, “This is an attack, a travesty against the family.” he bemoaned, raking his fingers through his hair. He breathed in the cool night hair, but the fire that roared still in his heart only turned it to summer heat again as it bathed his lungs. He felt no cool reprieve, no calm, as he paced the second story veranda. Lit by torch light the rose red granite of the villa glowed a golden hue in the soft orange light of fire light and lanterns. Ivy crawled up the fish-scale columns in gentile curly shoots, white pedals bloomed in the moonlight, capturing the soft cerulean light and glowing softly like diamonds despite the darkness.

“Pedro, we did all we could. But we have lost this. You gave a good fight, but now our son will have to die.” consoled Pedro's wife as she lounged on a deep forest green couch. Her velvety and purple robes hung off her as she lay, glass of wine in hand. She was in middle-age, her youthful beauty having surrendered long ago. Her hips wide spoke of many children born into the world, a virile woman. Her breasts too had been kissed by many babes in her time, and hung wrinkled and stretched, clearly evident under the robe folded over to cover them. Deep lines had formed around her face, and a uncommonly strong jaw had faded away and sunken in new folds. Her raven black hair too was going ashen and silver.

Lady Peruscoti, despite being so relaxed, was not the least indifferent to her son's demise. She too was very upset, and more defeated than her agitated husband. She idly ran a finger along the edge of her goblet of wine as sad blue eyes looked into it. She had been too sullen to take a drink she was prepared to take, and the cup was becoming like a prop in an actor's hands, to fill an inanimate role. “But the judge has handed down the sentence, the Serene Council has passed their judgement. If Giovanni will not see the case brought to him again, then it is over. The best we can do now is prepare Raphielo's final arrangements.” she said, sadly.

“That there is no other apt man in the entire Republic!” Pedro shouted into the night. Audre Grani lay stretched out below him, a collection of waywardly tossed groupings of worker's houses and warehouses and presses that lumbered along across the hills. The main estate itself, the mansion Audre Grani stood atop a hill of limestone and was surrounded by a wall, less of any true defensive nature and more to keep out the wildlife more than anything. It's fine halls and apartments for the servants and even a few distant relations and guest houses stood in the dark of the night faintly illuminated by pathways that glowed by the light of lanterns. In a few windows there and in the halls of the mansions candles and torches burned which lit the glass in a romantic blood-orange light.

He leaned against the stone railing. “No better man in the Republic. Had he thought to search in the Patrio Gran? That no one in the Republic would not have gone without conducted business with him, whose intuition would be unclouded by bias? I doubt he would say that, had he met with those great old men in their ancient towers in the mountains, or the naked peasants on the terraces. There might even be one overseer at the docks who has never met Fimelo duo Montagonea!” he declared loudly, his voice hoarse and cracking with his anger. His wife lynched at the invocation, she could imagine that there wouldn't be a person who could not hear her husband.

“It was only a hunting trip, Labella.” he said, tears in his eyes as he turned to her, “They went into the woods to shoot boar. Two go in, and Fimelo comes out dead. It was an accident!” he continued, pleading now to his wife Labella, because she was the only one there. He dropped to his knees at the side of her couch and she reached over with a gentle hand and touched her aged husband's head with the same touch she gave once to all her kids when they were young. It was warm, gentle, and without any threat. She set the glass of wine aside on a table and brought in her husband's head close. With a gentle hushing she kissed him on the brow. “We fought as much as we can. I feel your pain. Do you not think my heart cracks too?” she asked.

“There has to be more.” Pedro pleaded into her neck, his arms wrapped around her.

“There isn't. We just have to let it go. Let Raphielo go to the gods.”

There was a long moment of resigned silence in which the sniffling of tears could be heard. “No.” Pedro said, breaking it. His wife looked down at him shocked, releasing him from the embrace, “There is too much honor at stake here. The gods love justice, therefore they must despise injustice. One way or another, I do demand this to be overturned and our boy released. It was an accident, I plead this to the gods themselves!” he continued, “To Naestoleems, who carries the moon, and Cratocius, who carries the moon; the two of them who patrol the skies and see all. This is the challenge I will set myself to in my laugh to prove myself to them!”

There was an air of confidence and conviction in his voice. It was sad in much the way it was angry. Terrible, as it was noble. A full embrace of conflicting natures. Labella shuttered, she thought it was a fool's mission Pedro was setting himself on. But the master of the Peruscoti combination believed firmly in what he needed to do. He had been set on this for a while. And the challenges now were only more legendary challenges to surmount to assist him in restoring his families dishonor by having their name pinned to such a tragedy. None of them wanted this, surely. They were good men, so Pedro believed.

He picked himself up off the tile and began to pace across the veranda. What did he have to start on, and where could he begin? It was a new challenge and a whole new chapter, a whole new book in the saga to him. And for it, he needed fresh resources. He himself had been party to trying to argue the case before the judge and the Serene Council in defense of his son, who remained silent throughout. But this had failed, so he needed a new angle.

“Labella,” he said. His voice was still cracked from emotion, but it had become heavy, “Does your brother still know that sorcerer from the academy, the man from the Academio duo Importo?”

Labella looked shocked and she sat up from her couch. “Why would you ever need him?” she asked.

“I need a man who can argue, who can bring up a case. He reads the law, does he not?” he felt like he was pleading.

She thought for a minute, “I believe so.” she answered.

“Is he still in the city?” he asked.

“No, I think he moved out to Vèron, half a day's ride.”

“I will need to get a message to him, I have a task for him. A big one and I must discuss it with him personally. What is his name, where can he be found? Do you know?”

“Michelia Moor, but I don't know where he lives in that village. You'll need to find out for yourself.”

“Does not matter, the courier will find him on that!” he declared. His voice rose for the first time in months to something resembling happiness. With a light step he half-skipped down the Veranda to the door, and throwing open the heavy dark wood stepped inside into the haze of candle light. Labella looked on in wonder.

The study which Pedro entered was a large room. All along one side a wall of windows swung out and looked out at the night. A table of log books and lit candles sat nearby. On other walls, charts and maps dominated and hung from the walls like tapestries and banners. There were maps of the port itself, maps of the water ways between here and the mainland, to at Aepiranto, and even larger more regional maps, all as filled out as man's singular wisdom would allow and edited over in ink to note the locations of additions in varying reds and blacks. There were books too, a shelf of ledgers and log books throughout the generations; personal diaries and copies of contracts nearly a century old. In the middle of the room a great round writing desk sat in the illumination of an overhead chandelier, strewn across its surface were the day's works, legal treatises, law, court procedure; a years work of legal research.

Sifting through the noise on the desk Pedro produced a blank sheet of paper. Reaching for his quill and ink he began to write. Labella came to the door and leaned against the frame, watching her husband work.

“The serene Michelia Moor,

I beseech your honor and your talents for a special task I wish to contract you out for. The matter is of considerable importance and it is in my information that you are a man highly qualified to carry it out. Perhaps more so than most! I dare not to write out any particulars here, for it is of a delicate matter and best sought out in one-to-one conversation. I am affixing to this letter a down payment on your services, and while I know it is easy to take the money and run, I hope it is in the mercy and wisdom of your heart you take it as a sign of my sincerity.

Come swiftly to the estate of Peruscoti, Audre Grani. I request your audience at the earliest possible hour. I will make the abandonment of any dropped duties worth your trip.

Signed, with utmost respect,
Pedro Peruscoti”

Forgotten Worlds

@Crispy Octopus

Don't get too excited about the app. I'm only asking for so much. I don't want a fucking Wikipedia article.

As per climate: you're set up on the far side of the mountains so you're not likely to get any rain, you're in a pretty dry place where the prevailing weather should be the cold, dry air coming down from the north, which would likely keep back any dominant hot moist air from the sea further south, albeit in that direction you're a few hundred miles away from it.

Forgotten Worlds

@Willy Vereb

I'm sorry to report in but your claims on territorial size claims is off. Your claiming yourself to be four-times larger than you really are, roughly. The benefit of tossing in longitudinal lines is that they give me a spring board to work off of. The math roughly coming down to:

If the distance between 67 degrees north and 10 degrees north is 3929 miles, then breaking it down to eight handy square chunks of 241,081 miles square. Making a square that size, I could run comparisons of each constituent area, scaling things, and otherwise eyeballing it. The conclusion is that if we really need to open Pandorra's box of autism then the final result is roughly 441,981 miles square or 711,299.47 kilometers square. Recognizing of course landmasses that aren't totally square can always be a mess to calculate, I highly doubt in the end your total land area is 2,162,492 square kilometers.

Per total population density to run that loose comparison, you're only slightly less dense than 14th century England, which is odd given how far north you are, and the sort of land that is that far north. You would be well within an area comparable to the Taiga Belt (Comparable in weather and soil condition to the green). And soil in the taiga isn't really that richest thing in the world, which leads me to being cynical over the stated population density on the revised total area and makes me ask: no matter what is your history, how does an Empire even form from a region where people would be subsisting by the very tips of their fingers? You're probably not going to be feeding a large population to be used to subdue other distant peoples from the north-western squiggle island.

Then there is to also add: I said sometime back that I want people signing up after the old interest check was left to drown to come in as smaller states. Something as spread out may not work.

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

Kazakhstan

The motorbike peeled over dry empty Steppe tracing the river bank. It snaked on through the flat breathless expanse slow and shimmering bright. The water glittered with silver pieces. Its presence contrasted against the dry emptiness of the Kazakh steppe like a blemmish.

After several hours, the pair came to a stop by some rocks. Their stomachs grumbling from hunger. Pulling to the side they came up to an area of broken ground were the exposed boulders, jutting out black and dark cast shadows from the mid-evening sun. Immediately off to their side the river's bank lapped against gravel and rock as the water flowed past. Dismounting the bikes, Guo was the first to step out, his shoes grinding in the gravel. He groaned languidly as he twisted his back this way and that, his spine cracking at every twist.

“We should probably fill it up.” he said.

“We can do that later.” Chao said, lifting himself out of the side guard. He walked to the bike's saddle bags and begin searching for the food.

“How long has it been since we've seen another person?” Guo asked stepping to the river bank. He came up to where the water was just before his toes.

“Why do you ask?” responded Chao

Guo combed his fingers through his shaggy beard, “It's strange.” he said, “How many days has it been? We haven't really ever seen a single soul. Not since the town, but we never hung around to talk to anyone. What's going on in this country? Is there anything going on?” he wondered.

“I don't know. Perhaps it's one of those places.” Chao said back, producing some pieces of paper-wrapped food, stale bread and dry rice. “Come on, let's get something read to eat.” he beckoned, heading off towards the rocks. “Fill the pot with water too and we'll see if we can get something to eat.” he added.

Guo begrudgingly did as he was asked. The pot was kept in the bag on the opposite side of the side-car. It was banged up and dented, the finish was beginning to wear and its luster was fading or straight up gone along the edges, leaving a dull rough spot. He dunked it in the water and scoured when the water he pulled up was muddy with a faint tan tint to it. But it would have to do.

He carried it over to Chao who was beginning clearing a space in the dry grass. Pulling up the dry blades and piling it up with small twigs to make the beginnings of a small fire. Guo put down the pot and went over to the bike for more kindling and pulled out some odd bits of wood they had held onto for the purpose of a fire. With the piece of wood set down, Chao struck a flint and lit the fire. It crackled and popped nervously before slowly growing to take up the grass. The pieces of wood were gentle placed in, and the fire caught. Over it, the pot was placed and the rice poured in.

The pot wasn't very large, and it made Guo's stomach growl to look at it. But now it was on the fire and on its way to boiling he joined Chao by the rocks, where he was unwrapping one of the pieces of stale flat bread.

“Not much, but oh well.” Chao said handing over a piece.

Guo sighed. A part of him felt defeated, like a prisoner. Only taking the patterns to stay alive. He missed the moments of hearty meal. As he gnawed on his stale bread he looked over at Chao who looked content leaning against the dark boulder.

“How can you take it?” he asked.

He looked over at him, a brow half cocked questioningly. “Excuse me?” he asked.

“How can you take this? The stale bread, the road to no where. Chao, do you even know where we are? How far we are from home?”

Chao considered the question for a moment. And between bites sighed, “I really don't know.” he took another bite and thought about the questions as he chewed. We're somewhere in the middle of no where. Maybe a thousand miles from home. But somehow I just feel... free.”

“You're going to tell me you're free, here?”

Chao nodded, “Look at this way, and I've been thinking about this on our way out here: We've freed ourselves from tradition, from the expectation of our communities. With only ourselves, we're fully responsible for what we're doing. We are free right now. This is what the Unionist Party wants.”

Guo shook his head, “I don't think you get it. We need those people. Chao, we're not free right now. We're in danger.”

“And we'll take it in stride.”

“How much food do we have?” asked Guo.

“Enough.” responded Chao.

“Enough? And how much is enough. I don't think we have enough fucking fuel for another fire! We're going to be eating our rice dry from here on out soon!” protested Guo.

“Has it hurt anyone before?” Chao asked Guo and Guo threw up his hands shouting.

“For fucks sakes, you're taking this all too comfortably, aren't you?” he asked, “We don't have any reason to be out here!”

Chao looked over at his companion and laughed, “And here you are too.” he reminded him.

“For fucks sake.” he groaned. Chao laughed.

“By the way, have you seen the boulder?” Chao said after a moment of silence.

“What about it?” Guo asked, still bitter. He looked over to Chao pointing at the boulder sticking out of the raised ground behind him. In the fire light cast through the shadow he could see what looked like scratchings in the rock.

He looked over at his companion and asked, “What about it?”

“Look closer” he said. So Guo did.

Faintly carved into the bare stone faint images of men and animals could be seen etched into the barren rock. Wind and erosion had softened the figures, but the stone underneath the surface was subtly cleaner, lighter. By only a few shades there was a difference between light and dark that made images in the course dark stone. He looked up and around them, all across the exposed surface of the rock there were more images, many more.

“What the hell?” wondered Guo, aloud.

“I noticed them when we first stopped.” Chao said, “I wondered if you would notice. Over here too.” he said standing up. He lead Guo across to another set of outcropped rock, dark and brown. They passed the rice, which was beginning to steam and bubble on a low flame. Here too were images of animals and stick figure men, accompanied by some script, unreadable and ancient.

“Where are we?” asked Guo as he stood before the rocks.

“I don't know, I wanted to check it out before the sun set completely.” Chao said.

“I should have a flash light. At least I think I do.” Guo responded. He had to admit, he was all of a little fascinated all of a sudden looking at the simple carvings.

“I think this, this is why I wanted to get out. Wasn't this your reason too when we set out?” Chao asked.

“Well I... I don't know. I never expected to cross the border though!” Guo said.

“What was it Hou said, all men are family?”

“I mean sure, but what does that mean for us?” asked Guo.

“I don't think we ever truly left China, I don't think we left anywhere.”

Guo sat down to ponder. Chao followed suit. Both took either side of the fire and sat quietly as the rest of the water boiled away or was absorbed by the rice, what was left of the water was left as a starchy film that bubbled from the packed and wet rice at the bottom. By this point, the fire had died away and was a weak glowing pile of coals. Chao threw a few odd rocks and debris onto the hot coals.

As the water boiled off in the pot they let it cool. The sun was setting and the light that spilled out over the world was deep and purple. The air became cooler, and towards the light of their smoldering fire silver-white moths fluttered in close. Before all the light could fade however, Chao stood up and walked to the bike and rummaged through the bags and took out a flashlight. After some fighting, the weak amber glow of the bulb flickered on and he returned to the low fire. “Want to walk and eat for a little?” he asked.

“Why?” Guo asked.

“I wanted to check this out further. Come on.” he said, waving the flash light. Guo stuttered and finally rose to his feet and snatched the pot by its bent handles. Together they walked off into the darkening wilderness.

Flashlight beam scanning the rocks and the outcroppings of rock jutting from the ground they looked over bands of ancient writing carved into the rock, accompanied by animal and human carvings. As they went, both dove their hands into the pot and took out clumps of lukewarm rice in their fists and ate. Stopping to look up at the glistening bands of carved rock in the beam of their flashlight.

Coming to a jumble of wayward stones and boulders on the ground they stopped and looked down on living accurate, finely details images of the Buddha with halo. They hung the light on the sleepy image of the ancient prince with his hand raised in a gesture of blessing. “What do you think about when we're on the move?” Chao asked Guo as they stood there. Guo, mid-bite took a moment to answer.

“What do I think about? Home, mostly. I think. I think about the smell of morning tea, and not gasoline fumes. I think about a warm bath, and not being so full of dirt and grime, or naked dips in cold ponds. Mom's dumplings, father's stories, and my cousin's jokes.”

Chao nodded. “Is this what you were talking about earlier?” Guo asked.

Chao shrugged, “I think so.” he said.

“You think so?” Guo asked.

“Yeah, but... Listen, you ever had a thought but didn't know how to talk about it?” Chao asked.

“Back in university, on every other essay.” laughed Guo. Chao also laughed.

“But, why limit ourselves?” Chao asked.

“Limit ourselves to what?”

“Limit ourselves, to home. To where we were. What makes staying in the same place so important.”

“Because we were born there, our parents were too. And we owe our parents reverence.” Guo chimed in, “It's where we're meant to be, where we were raised. We're made for where we're born. Here: what do we know about here.”

“But is the world too not just one large home for all everyone?” Chao responded, “So why stay where we were born. We do disrespect to our family if we do not return.”

“And will we? Will you?” Guo asked.

“I intend to.” Chao answered his question, squatting down in front of the largest rock with the largest Buddha.

“Alright, if you insist. But come on. Let's go back.”

Dragon Diaries

Li Chao

July 9th, 2916. The year of the metal rat.

An unusual find on the road. I don't think we expected it. We were following this river down stream in the hopes of finding a crossing. The travel was harsh and difficult, we're mostly off road and both of our assess have been hurting. But I think we're able to bear the sores. We've been trading places far more often because of it. This has slowed us down. I don't think we made a quarter of what we would normally have done.

But we stopped at a place of outcroppings in the middle of the steppe. Some valley area, but I don't think that would do valleys justice. But settling down to boil that night's ration of rice I noticed the carvings on the rocks. Guo and I had an argument over what we were doing before I pointed them out. He must have been as struck by them as I, because he stopped. By the time the food was ready the sun was pretty low and the hour late, but I dug out the old flashlight and we walked off into the valley eating rice with our hands.

It's quite the wonder. It reminds me of a few places in China I've heard about and Guo doesn't seem to have heard of the thing. There's all sorts of images here, and I doubt we've seen them all before we headed back into camp. But there were carvings of the Buddha on some of the rocks, which has me thinking and comparing our trip to another.

I went to bed thinking about the Journey to the West and comparing ourselves to the Monkey King. Our worn green bike is like the White Dragon Horse, and we are like Sun Wukong. However, we are going much further west than those ancient characters, and we are not in search of any sage wisdom, or Buddhism. But my thoughts on waking now give me cause to reconsider our path to Africa.

We might be able to roughly retrace Wukong's route to India if we turn south and head into that direction. Except instead of passing into the country itself as the final destination we might find a way to sail to Ethiopia and meet my sister. It would simplify the journey, and we would otherwise have to cross Persia and Iraq and through Egypt south. No, I think finding a boat somewhere in India or Persia would be the best bet. I will need to take it up with Guo.

We have plenty of road ahead, so I don't think I will just yet. At some point I'll broach it with him, perhaps when we cross out of the country. I'm getting the idea he doesn't have much faith in the adventure (for lack of a better word) and would rather be home. But the fact he is preserving and hasn't abandoned me to the foreign world so far tells me he'll stick around. Now, if only he won't pick up complaining then we will be in the clear. But the future is ahead of us now, and all we have to do is press ahead.

Forgotten Worlds

So question....I’ve never ever done a group RP of this scale before, so I have no idea how this works. Can we talk about posting order? I usually do 1x1’s where it’s super obvious so like...I have no idea what the norm is.

@Blackfridayrule

Post when you got posts but try to avoid double posting if at all possible.

The bad thing with established posting orders is that if someone doesn't post for a long time it'll hang everyone else up down the line. I don't want to hang the RP up by saying, "X has to post after Y who has to post after Z". If someone else has posted, and you got a post, then post.

Forgotten Worlds

@Crispy Octopus
If it's good with Bee and company.

@Willy Vereb

Colonizers from what amounts to Sami-land climate then?

Forgotten Worlds

@Dinh AaronMkDo we have a lore piece on the ancient empire that is sorta a Rome expy in this game?
I wish to know how they were named because I have a brief reference in my NS them coining the common name of my race, Yelinor.

@Willy Vereb

Well, here's a thought game to play:

If the Roman empire comes from Roman as a demonym for a resident of Rome, then to be cheeky the same logic can be rolled out for the RP and pointing to how Gorgenmast is set up in the old imperial capital, he takes up the name of the Empire, and the Empire is spoke of as the city.

Bing bang boom.

Forgotten Worlds

BTW, anyone knows what was the name of that old empire that are proxy to the Romans?
Amurium?
In broken Latin that purple territory translates as "Amurium language region".

@Willy Vereb

The full title of the region is supposed to translate out as "The Old Imperial Language" in pigeon faux-Latin. I never really bothered to name the Empire and just sort of passingly refer to it as The Empire to make it simple.

-Snipped-

@Liotrent

I wasn't sure I needed to give you absolute clearance and put it all in your power to determine. They're in the end a part of your own narrative(s) so you get full franchise over them. You can certainly have them, they're just your problem and not a primary concern on my part, next map update I'll slide them in.

Still lagging behind with my NS a bit so here's just my new claim:


Anyways, it's been days and haven't got a solid response to my questions so while I understand how Discord can suck away the activity it also generates a more frequent platform for interaction which is generally good for a roleplay's health.

@Willy Vereb

Discord is for pretty people who post IC anyways, or should be.

In any case: immediate things that stick out to me that you need to answer: Your people spill out across two language zones but I'm so far not reading a lot of indication that this is being considered. Terkhazia - the northern coast lands to that last major bend in the river - is its own thing of pseudo-Slav speak and then there's the the Old Imperial Language quarters. Unless in the past they invaded in great force from somewhere else and thus probably had enough of a large ruling class over top that actively refused to speak either-or then I'm not sure it would work given the language geography. So your nation also plops you down in an area relevant to @Erik Tiber.