Ave! I am Legatus Bellum, you could call me Johann.
I have a very keen interest in history, specifically European history (despite me being an Asian). That was what brought me into war history and statecraft in the first place. Well, not really for statecraft. I've been interested in politics for a long time and had history as an edgy anarcho-communist when I was 12 (yes, I know, too young to be interested in politicking; I don't really blame my parents, though, they didn't know what I was getting into back then). Yeah, I had weird interests that aren't millennial at all. So yeah, the Art of War and the Prince are two of the books which I own. Then I went deeper into European history, and found that it shaped the world to what it was today. Politics and war, my 15-year-old self said, was the factor of change not only in Europe, but the entire world. Then, when I was 16, last year, I picked up Liddell Hart's work, Strategy.
Seeing death all around him was not an alien sight to Michael. Neither was the sight of friends being mowed down in front of him. The blood-soiled sand, the thousands of casings. He had seen it a long time ago. Pools of blood collecting in between the bricks and potholes. When the landing craft's doors first opened, he had seen those that were dead, and when he stepped foot on the sand itself, he could hear them, screaming in agony. He actually blanked out for a moment when he heard the barking of orders somewhere nearby. They were going to unload. Like always, Michael couldn't see where he could help, and to him, the natural way of knowing was by asking. And so, he did. He approached a man who was being handed crates for him to just stack by the beach. The man was middle-aged and buff, yet he was only a private, like Michael. "Excuse me," Michael said softly; "what can I do to help?"
The man sighed deeply, and when the other person handing him boxes said that they were good, he turned to look at the boy. "You're a little young, aren't you?" the man asked. "No sir, I'm nineteen," Michael replied. "Thin, fair, graceful movement, way too polite for my taste. You must be Disas. What are you, like, a son of a noble or something?" "No, sir, I'm the son of an officer," replied Michael. "Well, I don't care," the man interrupted. "If you want to make yourself useful, you can start carrying these boxes over to point B. Honestly, I don't know where that is, so just follow those guys," he added, pointing to other soldiers transporting crates full of supplies. "Or can't you lift that? You look way too thin... but then again, you probably were raised and kept inside your little noble house." "I'll go and transport some crates," Michael politely said despite the clear insult, grabbing a box. Being raised a sickly boy, he was weaker than most other soldiers. Really, he was merely a compromise, a nothing compared to the others. However, that won't impede him. The only reason he had combat experience was thanks to the fact that he joined the soldiery because of his devotion to his country.
Michael pushed aside his gun, and picked up the first crate in front of him. He had a small bit of trouble lifting the first crate of ammunition, but eventually, he got around to doing just that. It wasn't too heavy, lucky for him. He was careful in putting the boxes of ammunition down, taking time in actually organising the crates he managed to get to point B. After all, he wanted to be as organised as possible so he could make up for being a compromise.
Birthplace by Nationality (not sure what to put here) - Avea - Disas
Rank Private
Role Specialist
Dark brown uniform (with underwear and white t-shirt)
Two-inch-wide leather black belt
Black over-the-calf-high leather boots
Green steel pot helmet
Black leather gloves
OD green overcoat
Black suspenders affixed to leather belt to create LBE
Eight canvas ammunition pouches, four on each side of the frontal hip for 7.62mm ammunition; six contain ACsh box magazines, two with Krupin mags
Two big pouches for drum mags hanging by his chest
Two M119s stuffed into his belt
Combat knife by the left hip
Survival knife by the right hip
One quart canteen on right hip by the survival knife
A pack containing his necessities, i.e. a cleaning kit, rations, wash-kit, blankets, rags, and personal desirables, like a small sketchbook
352 rounds of 7.62x25mm ammunition in magazines specifically for submachine gun; 16 rounds in magazines for his pistol
Model 137 Krupin
AC140 submachine gun
Appearance Michael is a small man amongst his companions, standing at 170m, who has dark brown eyes and straight hair he likes to always keep short. He likes keeping it pomaded and swept to the side. His nose is thin and aquiline like his lips. His skin is not in the least fair, being slightly yellowed in colour. He is thin, but he has a bit of muscle, enough to get accepted into the military. He has simply a uniform, adorned with nothing foreign to the original uniform. He also wears steel-framed glasses which he needs to see at long ranges.
Personality Before being part of the soldiery, Belov was not a friendly person. Actually, he never did anything except sit in his room and read. However, do not be mistaken. He does not read simple literature and stories; he reads history, military theories, and political theories. Since his father was a military officer, he was introduced to such concepts, but his mother attempted to shield him from it. He could be considered spoiled or way too pampered, but he realised this at a young age. He didn’t want to be seen by the outside world as a pampered rich kid, so he continued reading. Unfortunately, his sicknesses as a child made him isolated, so he didn’t have many to talk to. He was also very nationalistic to the point that he was willing to lie to the prefects to get accepted into the military, but he was rejected anyway. He was keen on meeting new allies, so when he was finally accepted, the first thing he did was get to know his comrades. He doesn’t look like much, but he’s intelligent in strategic matters, being the son of an officer, but unfortunately, he is unexperienced in tactical matters. Belov is also very authoritative at home, but he keeps this authoritativeness hidden in the military for fear of punishment by his superiors.
History Michael was born to a Disas family. His mother was a religious person, and his father was an officer in the military. At an early age, he became very sick with various diseases, giving him his yellowish complexion, as well as resulting in his thin body he hasn’t fully recovered from. This made his mother very overprotective about him while his father, when off-duty, was ordering him to do chores around the house.
At school, he wasn’t really faring well. He used to be weak-minded, enjoying unimportant and childish things, but he eventually grew out of them. Instead of pursuing the things his classmates liked doing, he enjoyed staying at home, simply reading various theories at a young age. He became very interested in history, as well. It was also at this point that he was filled with the nationalistic spirit of his father, but alas, he was still too physically weak. Instead, he wanted to pursue a political career.
Eventually, however, the Wrea Federation attacked his homeland, and immediately, he wanted to answer the call to arms. He was seventeen at the time, so when he one day escaped from home, he applied for the army. They believed his initial lie of being eighteen, but they didn’t accept him because of his physical weakness. He snuck back home, and despite his hatred of physical activity and despite his laziness, he began to exercise and eat more and more. In a year, when he was eighteen, nearly nineteen, he was fit enough by military standards.
However, the final nail in the coffin that made him pursue a military career was the death of his parents in one day. Her mother, while out in town, was killed in a bombing raid. His father, while in a jeep en route to the battlefield to be with his troops, was killed in a strafing run by a Wrea Federation plane. His hatred grew, and he saw his world crumble right in front of him. He saw the destruction that Wrea had brought to his nation. He joined the military a day after their funerals, giving the rights to their family home to his brothers.
Eventually, Michael was accepted due to a short supply of men. In the same day, earlier, an order was issued: all men and women capable enough were to be drafted, no matter who they were, whatever their history may be, or whatever their jobs were; they were all to be drafted. They took Michael, saying he was ‘good enough,’ and was given a two-month training course. Being a fan of high-power, high-velocity guns, he wanted to have a bolt-action rifle in hand, but they saw that Michael did not have steady hands. Instead, he was handed a submachine gun. He excelled in training, and he saw his own potential with an SMG. He would definitely be a stormtrooper. The thought of death consumed him, and that kept him awake. However, he soon concluded that all men die, and to die gloriously on the battlefield is better than dying sickly in a bed. He would die for his country, and he would not back down. He would protect his nation, and more importantly, he would protect his only family left: his brother and sister. He saw the horrors of war once he was deployed with a single order: “Not one step back.” He cursed when he saw this fate he was given, rushing into a volley of machine gun fire. He charged, indeed, but his entire unit was wiped out. That was when he saw the reality of their situation: they were so desperate that their leaders were sending them in droves to die. He watched as his first friends were all annihilated right in front of his eyes, and his heart broke. But, there was no time for tears in war. Honestly, he was disappointed with this tactic of charging into enemy lines, but what could he do? An order was an order. If the nation lost this war, it would be the fault of the generals. For the first time in his life, Michael felt hopeless. On his nineteenth birthday, his present was imprisonment. He was captured while hiding in an urban battlefield by Wrea forces, and imprisoned.
He was kept in the nearest POW camp, and to his surprise only a week after, Gersan forces liberated the destroyed town, the Wrea lines of retreat cut off after a surprisingly brilliant manoeuvre to the enemy’s rear, crushing them and forcing them to surrender. Michael was impressed. He was liberated soon enough, and the first thing he asked for was his gun.
Michael was sent back to be reassigned to a new unit, and he was reassigned to the 7th Platoon of the 65th Spearhead Division. At first, he didn’t know what they were supposed to do, but when he was sent behind enemy lines, he knew immediately that they were going to distract enemy forces. It was the only reason why they were being dropped off in the area miles behind the enemy. Majority of those in the platoon were way older than him, and he tried to know about them. Only a man, a corporal, by the name of Isaiah Nekrivich was the only one who asked first, and Michael wasn’t able to ask back. The two established a good connection immediately, but Michael was continuously thinking: was this one a journalist? His questions sounded like questions a journalist would ask. However, the only question he asked before being deployed on the ground was: “How long are they going to stay distracted?”
Family Mikhailovich Belov–Father, KIA during a strafing run Ivana Belov–Mother, killed in a bombing run on a civilian area by Wrea bombers Raffaelo Belov–Brother, 12 Maria Belov–Sister, 14
Birthplace by Nationality (not sure what to put here) - Avea - Disas
Rank Private
Role Specialist
Dark brown uniform (with underwear and white t-shirt)
Two-inch-wide leather black belt
Black over-the-calf-high leather boots
Green steel pot helmet
Black leather gloves
OD green overcoat
Black suspenders affixed to leather belt to create LBE
Eight canvas ammunition pouches, four on each side of the frontal hip for 7.62mm ammunition; six contain ACsh box magazines, two with Krupin mags
Two big pouches for drum mags hanging by his chest
Two M119s stuffed into his belt
Combat knife by the left hip
Survival knife by the right hip
One quart canteen on right hip by the survival knife
A pack containing his necessities, i.e. a cleaning kit, rations, wash-kit, blankets, rags, and personal desirables, like a small sketchbook
352 rounds of 7.62x25mm ammunition in magazines specifically for submachine gun; 16 rounds in magazines for his pistol
Model 137 Krupin
AC140 submachine gun
Appearance Michael is a small man amongst his companions, standing at 170m, who has dark brown eyes and straight hair he likes to always keep short. He likes keeping it pomaded and swept to the side. His nose is thin and aquiline like his lips. His skin is not in the least fair, being slightly yellowed in colour. He is thin, but he has a bit of muscle, enough to get accepted into the military. He has simply a uniform, adorned with nothing foreign to the original uniform. He also wears steel-framed glasses which he needs to see at long ranges.
Personality Before being part of the soldiery, Belov was not a friendly person. Actually, he never did anything except sit in his room and read. However, do not be mistaken. He does not read simple literature and stories; he reads history, military theories, and political theories. Since his father was a military officer, he was introduced to such concepts, but his mother attempted to shield him from it. He could be considered spoiled or way too pampered, but he realised this at a young age. He didn’t want to be seen by the outside world as a pampered rich kid, so he continued reading. Unfortunately, his sicknesses as a child made him isolated, so he didn’t have many to talk to. He was also very nationalistic to the point that he was willing to lie to the prefects to get accepted into the military, but he was rejected anyway. He was keen on meeting new allies, so when he was finally accepted, the first thing he did was get to know his comrades. He doesn’t look like much, but he’s intelligent in strategic matters, being the son of an officer, but unfortunately, he is unexperienced in tactical matters. Belov is also very authoritative at home, but he keeps this authoritativeness hidden in the military for fear of punishment by his superiors.
History Michael was born to a Disas family. His mother was a religious person, and his father was an officer in the military. At an early age, he became very sick with various diseases, giving him his yellowish complexion, as well as resulting in his thin body he hasn’t fully recovered from. This made his mother very overprotective about him while his father, when off-duty, was ordering him to do chores around the house.
At school, he wasn’t really faring well. He used to be weak-minded, enjoying unimportant and childish things, but he eventually grew out of them. Instead of pursuing the things his classmates liked doing, he enjoyed staying at home, simply reading various theories at a young age. He became very interested in history, as well. It was also at this point that he was filled with the nationalistic spirit of his father, but alas, he was still too physically weak. Instead, he wanted to pursue a political career.
Eventually, however, the Wrea Federation attacked his homeland, and immediately, he wanted to answer the call to arms. He was seventeen at the time, so when he one day escaped from home, he applied for the army. They believed his initial lie of being eighteen, but they didn’t accept him because of his physical weakness. He snuck back home, and despite his hatred of physical activity and despite his laziness, he began to exercise and eat more and more. In a year, when he was eighteen, nearly nineteen, he was fit enough by military standards.
However, the final nail in the coffin that made him pursue a military career was the death of his parents in one day. Her mother, while out in town, was killed in a bombing raid. His father, while in a jeep en route to the battlefield to be with his troops, was killed in a strafing run by a Wrea Federation plane. His hatred grew, and he saw his world crumble right in front of him. He saw the destruction that Wrea had brought to his nation. He joined the military a day after their funerals, giving the rights to their family home to his brothers.
Eventually, Michael was accepted due to a short supply of men. In the same day, earlier, an order was issued: all men and women capable enough were to be drafted, no matter who they were, whatever their history may be, or whatever their jobs were; they were all to be drafted. They took Michael, saying he was ‘good enough,’ and was given a two-month training course. Being a fan of high-power, high-velocity guns, he wanted to have a bolt-action rifle in hand, but they saw that Michael did not have steady hands. Instead, he was handed a submachine gun. He excelled in training, and he saw his own potential with an SMG. He would definitely be a stormtrooper. The thought of death consumed him, and that kept him awake. However, he soon concluded that all men die, and to die gloriously on the battlefield is better than dying sickly in a bed. He would die for his country, and he would not back down. He would protect his nation, and more importantly, he would protect his only family left: his brother and sister. He saw the horrors of war once he was deployed with a single order: “Not one step back.” He cursed when he saw this fate he was given, rushing into a volley of machine gun fire. He charged, indeed, but his entire unit was wiped out. That was when he saw the reality of their situation: they were so desperate that their leaders were sending them in droves to die. He watched as his first friends were all annihilated right in front of his eyes, and his heart broke. But, there was no time for tears in war. Honestly, he was disappointed with this tactic of charging into enemy lines, but what could he do? An order was an order. If the nation lost this war, it would be the fault of the generals. For the first time in his life, Michael felt hopeless. On his nineteenth birthday, his present was imprisonment. He was captured while hiding in an urban battlefield by Wrea forces, and imprisoned.
He was kept in the nearest POW camp, and to his surprise only a week after, Gersan forces liberated the destroyed town, the Wrea lines of retreat cut off after a surprisingly brilliant manoeuvre to the enemy’s rear, crushing them and forcing them to surrender. Michael was impressed. He was liberated soon enough, and the first thing he asked for was his gun.
Michael was sent back to be reassigned to a new unit, and he was reassigned to the 7th Platoon of the 65th Spearhead Division. At first, he didn’t know what they were supposed to do, but when he was sent behind enemy lines, he knew immediately that they were going to distract enemy forces. It was the only reason why they were being dropped off in the area miles behind the enemy. Majority of those in the platoon were way older than him, and he tried to know about them. Only a man, a corporal, by the name of Isaiah Nekrivich was the only one who asked first, and Michael wasn’t able to ask back. The two established a good connection immediately, but Michael was continuously thinking: was this one a journalist? His questions sounded like questions a journalist would ask. However, the only question he asked before being deployed on the ground was: “How long are they going to stay distracted?”
Family Mikhailovich Belov–Father, KIA during a strafing run Ivana Belov–Mother, killed in a bombing run on a civilian area by Wrea bombers Raffaelo Belov–Brother, 12 Maria Belov–Sister, 14
/ˌimˈpirēəm/ absolute power. Gods have ruled the land of Mor for as long as its inhabitants could imagine. One day, in the primitive stages of Mankind's development, they came from the stars, bringing with them various other races; this was known as the First Era. When they were in the presence of mere mortals, the palpable air of power and authority were truly present. Mankind evolved alongside these alien creatures the philosophers of the Iron Age learned to call the 'Exos'. As Mankind grew to the bronze age, more gods arrived from the stars, beginning the Era of the Gods. Of note were Hadi, goddess of life and light; her valuable counterpart, Thanatos, god of death; Kyver, god of justice and order; Brandus, god of fire and destruction; Razmakan, god of war; and Sanzard, goddess of freedom to some, goddess of excess to others. They subjugated Mankind and dominated them, and became their rulers. Eventually, the days of history-recording came, and with it came the Era of Knowledge. No gods arrived.
However, one day, a new god arrived from the skies. Like the others, he was not alone, but those that came with him weren't there to simply settle; they were there to conquer. He brought with him no man without a weapon; he brought with him the Divines, the Caelesti; and the Infernals, the Chthonics and the Daemons. He brought them together under his command, subjugating the Infernals and manipulating the Chthonic dukes to his cause of conquering the perfect world: Mor. Nobody, however, saw these creatures which he had brought. Nobody took him seriously at first, for at first, he brought simply a legion of 6000 Daemons and its duke, a Human-looking individual with thick black armour and a red cape. However, nobody was laughing at him when he killed the Dragon Lord's immortal iron-scaled dragon and absorbed its power, subjugating the Dragon Lord all by himself while his legion single-handedly wiped out three-fourths of the dragon population. He took the dragons for himself, along with the Dragon Lord's small kingdom in the east, which he named the Dominion of Sanctus Terramar. This marked the dawn of the Era of Emptiness, for the god who arrived and took residence in the small stone brick and thatch kingdom of the Dragon Lord was none other than the Lord of the Emptiness, god of authority, control, and knowledge, simply known as Emperor Obscurus Antiquos, for underneath his hood was a black void akin to the night sky, with stars shining brightly behind them. He was the pioneer of the new steam technology, powered not by the easily depleted coal, but from his very own creation: the Obscura, which he used to power his ships which were capable of flight through the Emptiness beyond the world of Mor which he said his legions used to travel the stars to conquer godly and barbaric worlds lost in the Emptiness after a great collapse, as well as his superior machines on the ground, which he used to conquer the small states run by lesser gods off to the north.
For two hundred years, there was an uneasy peace between him and the Al Abbakhu Empire's pantheon of gods. They wanted to establish trade with this new nation, but instead, they received a deadly embargo from the Dark Emperor, who used them as the subject of propaganda to stir his people to anger. The Obscurus Antiquos declared them slave traders and violent hedonists. For a few years, they starved out the Abbakhu peoples. With their great cannons, they assaulted the fleets of the Dominion. This stirred the people to practically begging for war against the Al Abbakhu, so he made war. His airship fleets arrived from the east, with biplanes dropping bombs from the skies, showing the true capability of these new creations. As all of this happened, the other gods became hostile to one another due to their opposing ideologies. Brandus' Burning Nation made war with Hadi and Thanatos' Tylwytheim, Sanzard's Etherium made war with Kyver's Ardania, and Razmakan sought to conquer all with his feral Hordes of the Damned. However, this was not simply a war fought in Mor. The gods' Realm Gates, portals leading to different worlds, have also begun to reopen, staging fronts in worlds beyond Mor.
You are a citizen of Mor. You were born in this age, just in time to see the gods make war with one another. It will be bloody, and it will be deadly. What part shall you play in this world? Will you be a soldier, fighting for your nation? A general leading your troops? Or are you a king ruling on behalf of a god, protecting your realm? The choice is yours, and the chance is here.
Nations of Mor
A self-proclaimed holy empire. It is ruled by none other than Emperor Obscurus Antiquos, the mysterious god who travelled and, supposedly, controlled the stars. However, that is not his real name, for his real name a mere mortal cannot say, nor comprehend, though critics simply say that he wanted to change his name because he was ashamed of it. The empire is made up of sectors, each controlled by a prince, while foreign territories are ruled by viceroys and governor-generals.
It is a strictly sacred land, so the inhabitants say. Hedonism and excess are treated as destroyers, a great evil. Sins are not forgiven at will. The regular person is religious, but worships no god, not even their very own Emperor. Instead, they are encouraged to worship virtue itself, to strive to be virtuous in every turn. Children are brought up with those sorts of thinking, and they work together, united, for a brighter future. Therefore, anybody who threatens the virtues of the Dominion are subject to annihilation. This is why outsiders consider it authoritarian and anti-populist even though the rest of the population approve of the Emperor's strategy. It is inhabited by Humans, Caelesti, and Infernals, but the latter two are not regular citizens.
Mortemkind is a small independent principality operating under the control of rogue Daemons and Vampyres. They terrorise the Human population. They worship an unknown god. Some suspect they are under the influence of Brandus, but they are, in fact, not. It is ruled by the vampiric prince, Prince Târgu, but once, it was ruled by Thanatos before he departed for Tylwytheim.
Al Abbakhu is a great empire spanning the southern continent in its entirety, as well as extending and pouring out into the badlands. They trade slaves for a living in exchange for foods and wine, for ever since the slave rebellion, the pantheon issued a great Dictum that dried up the lakes, turning everything into a desert with nothing green growing anymore. They relied solely on trade and conquest of the northern continent, and for a century, they had their very own fertile land before Obscurus drove them out and took their fertile land, freeing a thousand slaves in the process.
It is ruled by Sultan Achmen, an imperialist wishing to conquer the north again. His view is supported by their chief god in the pantheon, Ikthabad, who had a jackal's head. It is inhabited mainly by Humans with some Sphinxes.
Ruled by the goddess of life and the god of death, Tylwytheim is a kingdom of prosperity and harmony between the dualities. It is a kingdom made of crystal, and is for the Elves only. Everything there is considered perfect, even the Elves themselves. The goddess of life and the god of death love each other, but nobody knows that they are siblings, nobody except Obscurus himself. This was, in all actuality, the reason behind the incestuous downsides to the perfection of the Elves. This became the downfall of some Elves, leading to them to journey far away in search of more excess.
The Arkus Royal Family is the family in charge, ruling on behalf of Kyver, god of justice and order. His is the largest kingdom in Mor, with some even proposing changing the official name of the country to the Empire of Ardania, and the king turned into emperor, but Kyver disapproves of this change. Kyver is considered a controlling god because of his status as a god of order by his critics, but in all truth, Kyver, despite having achieved godhood, was still born a Human and has at least a few Human flaws left. Because he is the god of order and justice, he is a bit authoritarian, but not as authoritarian as the Emperor.
The state has a well-funded police force, reputable, but just. Once a person joins the police force, they give up all their liberties and freedoms to become the defenders of peace and order. They also have a well-funded police force. Their economy is strong because it is a free market economy, but they refuse to trade with Al Abbakhu and Kyver found himself agreeing to the embargo on the slavers. This is considered the largest kingdom, housing a large amount of Mankind, but it also inhabited by the only known Dwarves, living in the mountains, contributing to taxation and industry. Many, in fact, move to the cities to work in the factories, mills, and the forges.
Sanzard is a winged bird-headed goddess of freedom, the perfect Avian. That is the reason why her kingdom is a great floating land mass propelled by her own brand of Obscura. Her people are the Avians, free and wild, free from responsibilities. Because of this, many Avians spend their time drinking an excess of alcohol, whoring, performing hedonistic acts, and other pleasure-based activities. This was the reason why she was also called the goddess of excess, specifically by Kyver and the Emperor.
Avians, however, aren't the only ones living in Etherium. Humans and Elves, wishing to be free of their responsibilities, also live here.
The Burning Nation is ruled by Brandus, god of fire and destruction, towering over the masses, standing at a hundred feet in the air. His body is made of metal which burns greatly and brightly. The Burning Nation is mainly inhabited by the Burning Ones–a race of metal creatures that burn. They are unable to breed, but they are able to replicate with the use of machines. However, Humans also inhabit the tropical country, living around the volcano in which Brandus lays dormant in, protected by guards. Surprisingly, the nation isn't on fire, and even more so are the wonderful structures there made of stone that was beautifully carved. Also, because of the fire, they are quite advanced in technology, having a nearly infinite source of energy.
Despite being a god of destruction, Brandus doesn't do much destroying, and usually sits on his massive throne atop the volcano. In fact, Brandus saves his people by absorbing the heat of the volcano, removing the need for the volcano to erupt. Instead, however, he destroys his enemies, ruining them completely. The people of the nation hate the Elves as Brandus told them of the horrors they inflicted upon him when he was mortal.
Razmakan's territory is no kingdom, but it is the largest dominion. He controls an entire supercontinent on the other side of the world called the Dark Continent. The people there are savages: Orcs, Ogres, Goblins, and sometimes, even barbaric Humans.
Good day! Well, that's it, for now. Of course, majority of that was simply lore. If you haven't figured it out (I'm sure you have), this is a science fantasy roleplay that takes place in more than one world, with steampunk technology and weaponry. Now, you might be asking, why is this classified under sci-fi and fantasy? There's a genre called science fantasy, which is basically fantasy, because gods, elves, dwarves, and whatnot, and science fiction [i.e. big ships that travel the galaxy, like the Obscurus Antiquos' 'ships capable of flight through the Emptiness (space) beyond the world of Mor which he said his legions used to travel the stars'] combined. So, anybody interested? Opinions, help, and constructive criticisms are all welcome.
Hail to you! I am Legatus Bellum. Now, I've made an account here before, but I've never really posted anything significant, and I forgot the password to that particular account, so instead of finding ways to actually re-access said account, I decided to simply create a new account with one of my underused e-mails.
Now, you may call me by Legatus Bellum, or Legatus, or Bellum... or just call me by my nickname, Johann. I like sci-fi and fantasy RPs with a massive amount of military and statecraft mixed in. Sometimes, I like to blend sci-fi and fantasy together. I am experienced in RPing, but I still need to get used to this particular site's layout. I look forward to meeting others, making some friends, and writing. So, once again, greetings, good day, and happy trails!
Ave! I am Legatus Bellum, you could call me Johann.
I have a very keen interest in history, specifically European history (despite me being an Asian). That was what brought me into war history and statecraft in the first place. Well, not really for statecraft. I've been interested in politics for a long time and had history as an edgy anarcho-communist when I was 12 (yes, I know, too young to be interested in politicking; I don't really blame my parents, though, they didn't know what I was getting into back then). Yeah, I had weird interests that aren't millennial at all. So yeah, the Art of War and the Prince are two of the books which I own. Then I went deeper into European history, and found that it shaped the world to what it was today. Politics and war, my 15-year-old self said, was the factor of change not only in Europe, but the entire world. Then, when I was 16, last year, I picked up Liddell Hart's work, Strategy.
Welp, that's about it.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Ave! I am Legatus Bellum, you could call me Johann.<br><br>I have a very keen interest in history, specifically European history (despite me being an Asian). That was what brought me into war history and statecraft in the first place. Well, not really for statecraft. I've been interested in politics for a long time and had history as an edgy anarcho-communist when I was 12 (yes, I know, too young to be interested in politicking; I don't really blame my parents, though, they didn't know what I was getting into back then). Yeah, I had weird interests that aren't millennial at all. So yeah, the Art of War and the Prince are two of the books which I own. Then I went deeper into European history, and found that it shaped the world to what it was today. Politics and war, my 15-year-old self said, was the factor of change not only in Europe, but the entire world. Then, when I was 16, last year, I picked up Liddell Hart's work, Strategy.<br><br>Welp, that's about it.</div>
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