Legion02

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

@dragonmancer I think Kilgarrah would like the reasoning idea more. But I want to showcase how the power of Asivar's taming works. It's not a conventional way. It doesn't work through capturing it, nursing it, feeding it and letting it grow with care. It's a more agressive form. It's more of capturing it and then breaking its will. More like forcing it in a battle of will and strength (through the power of the Yui). Of course, only Asivar could do that to a sentient Long. I'd imagine no average human without aid could do it. But the element of "breaking" the will of the dragon is very important. Yes, I do realize Kilgarrah would probably take offense in this.

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

@dragonmancer Small question. Would you mind if Asivar temporary "tames" (more like breaks will of) a Long Dragon. It would pretty much attack the "punny human caravan" not realizing the God of Beasttaming walks among them. It's just to showcase the third and final mark of Asivar, the Yui. (The shenhun - Hunter's mark, the Arvat'Nar or the burned scar mark of the Warrior and the Yui or Mark of the Beasttamer.)

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

@Klomster As if I'd want to come! Asivar's spreading is influence again. No city needs him. The villages do >.> The lone tribes in the north that never got subjugated. The far eastern people that were once tamed the mighty beasts of the forests and mountains. Asivar will rise again! With the power of the PEOPLE behind him! No knight will stop the tidal wave. We shall come from north, west, south and east!!!

That being said, next post will be about the Eastern Beast Tamers regaining their Mark of Asivar. That makes a tribe, a village and a handful of nomads his followers. Ha better get going on spreading his influence. He's lagging behind XD.

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

@Lexicon You forgot the Gods Woods near the unnamed village Asivar blessed Ludgar at. AKA in the Northern Wilds.

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

Aye! I keep my locations rather vague (Nothern tribes, a village, the Eastern Realm (to be used in the future)). Is anyone actually proficient in map-making?

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

@Legion02 Nice post, but make sure you're putting some kind of location at the top of your post. That way, if I want to send some kobolds to that village for whatever reason, I know what it's called.

@Lexicon

The name of the village was actually in the first paragraph of the post. Still, added a title to say where it is.

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

Village of Mumue

Nicolas stood on the makeshift watchtower. His father was too sick to even stand, so the defense of the village rested on the young boy’s shoulders. Barely old enough to marry, Nicolas now lived in constant fear. Raiders from the North were sighted. The village, Mumue, was relatively wealthy. The Village Council refused to believe the Northerners would ever be a problem. So instead of building a palisade, they blew the money on bigger houses. Houses that now stood empty or smeared with blood. Only half of the village survived the previous attack. Nicolas, by fate’s twisted humor, managed to be one of those who lived on. Probably only to be slaughtered the next morning.

With the sun rising in the distance, he began to see black figures on the shadow. The raiders had returned to finish their job. All the courage the young boy had mustered over the course of half a night slipped him through the fingers like sand. “Oh heavens…” he whimpered, as he dropped on his knees. Realizing fully well that he was very much a dead man walking. Defeated he sobbed and cried. While murmuring: “Oh gods.. Oh heavens. I-I know you have abandoned us. Just, if you are still somehow listening. Please… Please I’m begging you. Help me.”

“How much do you desire that wish?” asked a voice from behind Nicolas. Who immediately turned around. Towering over the kneeling boy stood Asivar. Still in his human form. Dressed in fur with a bow on his back. For a moment Nicolas was silent, expecting the person, whom he thought was a raider, to strike him down. But nothing happened. So the young boy spoke. “I… Who…”

“I am Asivar. True God of Battle. You desire your survival, do you not?” Nicolas nodded, and added: “And the survival of my family. My mom, my dad, my sister. They cannot fall in the hands of those filthy raiders! I.. I can’t imagine what they’d do to my sister.” Asivar walked up next to him, looking over at the horizon at the horde approaching. He pondered over the wish of the young boy, and then looked down at him. “How much… are you willing to give for that wish? Would you pray for me? Would you become a Follower?” Nicolas could only nod. Though he barely understood what Asivar meant. The god turned his gaze back at the approaching horde. They were smaller than the hordes he ones saw. Not even 100 men were in the approaching dust cloud. Oh how things have changed. Where was the time the Northerners raised entire tribes to come down south? Hordes of men, women, children and beasts came pouring down. A tidal wave breaking fortresses and mighty cities. Setting fire to all they couldn’t carry.

“I will grant you your wish. But to do so, you must forgive me for this.” Asivar stretched out his arm at the young boy. First a painful sting could be felt, but then another, and another. After a while Nicolas screamed out in pain as his entire back lit up with fire. The pain was so bad that he fell unconscious. Much to the disdain of Asivar. “You will learn how to respect the pain, in the future. I hope. For it will be the fire that forges greatness.”

When Nicolas got up again, Asivar was gone. Instead he was getting yelled at from below the watch tower: “Get your sorry ass down here, you fool! The raiders are nearly here! Bloody hell! You could have slept through the god damn battle.” Careful he crawled down the ladder, only to get an axe pushed in his hands. “Get ready. And for the love of the gods, kill something this time.” The veteran snapped to Nicolas, who was still very unsure on what to do. He held the axe tight in his hand, and awaited near the corner of a house.

In the distance he heard the rumble of horses approaching. The cracking of torches was suddenly very clear to him. The slight vibrations of the earth spoke to him. Telling him exactly how far the enemy was. But most importantly, he started smelling the dried blood on their furs. Which started to play with his head. Like he was getting high.

“NOW!” Yelled the veteran, and everyone jumped off the low roofs or from behind the corners to cut down the enemy. A horse rider just passed Nicolas and in a fit of madness he jumped at the rider. Pulling him off the horse. With one savage strike of his axe Nicolas ripped open the chest of the surprised raider. But Nicolas needed more. He needed the blood. He craved the coppery smell. So he slashed and cut again and again. Until the dead raider was in a puddle of blood. Nicolas grabbed his weapon, a sword. No doubt stolen during previous raids. But Nicolas couldn’t care less. Instead he rushed towards the infantry skirmish at the entrance of the village.

Like a wild animal he jumped in between his comrades into the fray. Slashing wildly around him. With savage strikes he cut off entire limbs. Blunting his weapons. But there were always new ones to pick up. In the heat of battle, the blood was like a drug to Nicolas. The little farmer’s boy was now chopping away at any fur-clad raider he noticed. Whom began to avoid the mad idiot they couldn’t kill. Every strike seemed to be just too little. They could cut his shirt, but never his skin.

In the meantime Nicolas was screaming like a beast. Blood covered his body and scarlet mud caked his boots. Suddenly a rider got near, trying to stab him. The horse moved too slow and that was the horseman’s demise. Having just blunted his weapons on bone again, Nicolas could do nothing but to grab the horse’s neck and pull it down on the ground. Breaking the leg of the rider and well as that of the horse. In a maddening thirst for blood Nicolas jumped the rider, took off his helmet and bashed his enemy’s skull in with it.

The battle was over, with a surprising lack of casualties on the side of the village. On the other side though, the raiders were bloody and beaten. Broken and afraid. They ran from the battlefield, while the mad beast that was Nicolas chased him. Eventually his berserker rage cooled down. With the dusk he returned to the village. Covered in dried but also wet blood. His shirt was nothing but rags barely covering him anymore. When he walked into the village, they first cheered, and then gasped. Much to the confusion of Nicolas, who could not even grasp what he just went through.

Divided We Stand

I think that I'm speaking for most of the group when I say: That's okay. Most start their school year (or have already started) and are now buried in that start-of-school-year-heap of things to do. So take your time. I know I will.

What a Lovely Day (Mad Max NRP) [Now doing Pop. Rolls]

What do you say? To describe them a little less serious: metalheads given the power of lighting gone insanely zealous over justice.

The Lightning Crusade

Lightning Crusade

"By their justice we live! With their fury we die!"

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OVERVIEW

Road warriors generally do not band together. In fact, many claim that the solitude makes them who they are. But not for the Lightning Crusade. It started out as a small band of Road Warriors bend on destroying a local warlord. Realizing that together they form a greater danger than each separate ever could achieve, they made a truce and fought as one. Their success now lives on as the Storm Lords. The inner circle of the Lightning Crusade. Through valor and glory, the Lightning Crusade plans on cleaving through the Wastelands. They ride forever one until the last of the Lightning Crusaders drops dead. Beware all those who do not abide by the one-sighted version of Justice that the Lightning Crusade hold dear. For they may find a storm approaching.

CULTURE

The Wasteland is filled with Half-lives. The toxic environment is utterly hostile to all life. It is to no-one a surprise that they are very common to the Wastelands. Most are forced to band together under a warlord. Some, though, some choose to live alone. Be it exile or fleeing from their former friends. They develop their own sense of justice. No doubt they would have heard of the Lightning Crusade. A band to rival most warlords. Not dedicated to oppression, but to justice and freedom. The Lightning Crusade recruits all who are willing. But they will only be accepted if they prove themselves worthy. Life within the crusade is not an easy one. Infighting is not forbidden and is often used a tool to weed out the weak. Over their short time, Half-Lifes often grow ever more fanatic. While still holding Justice high. It is often the Storm Lords their version of Justice. Leaving the Crusade, until a certain point, is allowed. But should one be initiated too deep into the ranks, then the only escape they can have is by death. By that point, it is often the only release of suffering the Half-Lifes believe in.

While often zealous, knowledge is not considered an idiotic pursuit. No, in fact, if not for the search of knowledge of the old world, the Storm Lords would be nothing. It is their discovery of the Storm Pylons (tesla coils) that they came to power. If they were not curious of what the signs in a book meant, they would have never been able to harness the fires of the storm.

They revere the lightning bolt as their holy sign. A symbol of purity and power. They believe it embodies the fury of the Storm Lords themselves. Who can harness it to fight the wicked souls. Young recruits often don't fully understand the reverence of the lightning bolt. Until they are under attack, and a Storm Lord decides to activate his Storm Pylon. Few remain skeptical of the Lightning Bolt as the pure symbol of the crusade after they saw with arcs of justice destroying enemies and burning them to a crisp.

While the Crusade embodies freedom, it also embodies reverence towards the Storm Lords. Many, upon joining, will be ordered to construct their uniform. Often with sharp spikes in the form of lightning bolts on their shoulders. The Unform is obliged and is used to prove your commitment to the cause. Additionally, valor and glory are rewarded in the form of golden necklaces. The more golden necklaces a Half-Life wears, the more heroic actions he performed. Storm Lords often wear so much bling that they must start wrapping it around their arms.

RESROUCES

The Crusade has been burning a path through the Wastelands for long now. They raided convoys and destroyed strongholds. All the while their loot pile grew and grew. Now large trucks filled with all kinds of scrap metal a furnace to bent them into shape rides in the middle of the Crusade. Alongside the far fewer water tankers that cruise with them. When they must trade, the Crusade will trade scrap for nearly anything else. From water and guzoline to bullets and food. They only trade with settlements and strongholds they deem honorable or at the very least, none-oppressive. But most of their profit and resources they gain from raiding and looting.

Through knowledge and lots of scrap resources, the Crusaders learned that putting time in their equipment pays off. Guns are forged with experience recorded by previous crusader forgers. The smeltery truck is covered with writing and drawings of how to make weapons. These are not mere fools rambling (at least, not all of it).

LEADERSHIP

The Storm Lords reign supreme. Acolytes of the Storm King, they long ago learned how to harness the power of dessert fury fire from him. Now he passed, but his memory is still fresh on all the Storm Lords their minds. There are 5 storm lords in total. Each driving their own vehicles and have the authority to temporary split off the main Crusade (though a minimum of 3 Storm Lords must remain in the main Crusade). Many of their Crusaders who were sworn in by a Storm Lord will join that Lord's quest should he temporary break from the main Crusade. In theory, a break-off crusade could be just as big as the main crusade through popularity of one Storm Lord. But that has never happened so far.

MILITARY

Through the years many looted Warlords their cars and began to modify them. Newling Crusader Riders often start by putting large spikes all over their car. Believing they can be used as conductors for the awesome power of the Storm Lords. Obviously these spikes are in the most holiest of forms: lighting bolts. After that modifications keep on coming. A hood vanishes here, a cover is pulled over there. Wheels and shafts are changed. The tail pipe is bent for some reason. Crusader Riders have a proud tradition of altering their vehicles whenever given the time. The near endless supply of scraps makes this quite easy. Though, it happens that these extensively modified cars break down. But as the Riders know their own vehicle as if they were born in it, they can usually fix it quickly.

One thing many of the Riders have in common, though, are big ass guns. Forged in the Smeltery truck and modified there too, the Crusaders have a running bet on getting the biggest, baddest gun of their group of "friends". It is true, this often leads to absolute ridiculous, expensive and inefficient weapons. But in the end, if they can blow up things or riddle a vehicle with holes, the Riders will be happy. But the absolute prime kind of weapons are Storm Pylons. The vehicles of all the Storm Lords are equipped with at least 2, and through "sorcery" (science of conductivity) the Storm lords can bend the arcs to their will. Those most trusted by the Storm Lords can get a Storm Pylon of their own. While only the Storm Lords can aim the lighting to an extent, normal Riders cannot. Instead these Storm Pylons merely act as close range deterrent (and super cool status factor).

Flagship
The Storm Caller

The Crusade has no care for stealth. Nay, when the Crusade comes, everyone will have known it. In the vanguard rides the heavily armed but awesome Storm Caller. A massive truck with 4 large drums at the back. In the front ,though there is a stage for the Thunder Relics. A guitar and a microphone. The Stormsingers, two chosen from among the Crusaders learned from ancient sheets, battle music from ages past. Now they let these ancient hymns of battle echo once more into the world. The Storm Caller is believed to summon up a massive sandstorm should all drums be beaten and both Stormsingers be at work. Mostly though, they already bring a dust storm by the thrown-up sand behind them alone.

ROLLS

1 Genetic Make Up
Half-Lives: Doomed to short lives, Half-Lives are always in need of breeding stock. Almost half don’t make it past youth, and any that do live absolutely no longer than 40. Riddled with obvious tumours and other disfigurements, they could pass for healthy if they covered up but the coughing is always going to give them away.’

2 Cultural Meta-Group
Road Warriors: The wasteland is almost uniformly lawless violent place where the powerful prey on the poor and the strong abuse the weak. There are those few tenacious souls who seek to better the world though. Fearless and skilled by necessity, these Road Warriors usually travel the ruined highways alone, dealing with those they see as wrong doers with whatever justice they see fit, but occasionally they form groups. Coalitions of these apocalyptic lawmen are dangerous and untrusted by other groups, if only because they can often lead to quick destruction of the status quo.

3 Leadership
Oligarchy: A small sect of the group lords over the rest. Similar to single leadership in their absolute power, but spread over a small group rather than one man. Almost as common.

4 Cultural Quirks
Intellectuals: In a world that constantly demands 100% effort just to stay alive, it’s very rare to see a group even partially dedicated to mental pursuits, but here one is. Usually considered too brainy by other groups, these fellows spend their off time reading salvaged books and maybe even doing a little science/inventing/archaeology. Hold themselves to a higher standard of intelligence/knowledge than others.

Distinctive Icon: A motif or symbol runs throughout the groups structures, clothes, and vehicles. Maybe it’s a specific animal or object, or maybe it’s something less specific like bullets or flames.

5 Distinctive Appearance
Uniforms: Standardized appearance across the group and it’s leadership. Makes your group seem more cohesive, but can be hard to maintain.

Jewelry: Somehow the group has gotten a hold of a sizeable amount of bling. Maybe it’s hand-made from scrap, or maybe it’s actual treasures from the old world. The group takes great pride in it.

Spikey: Their armor and cars are covered in a profusion of spines, blades, and other sharp nastiness. Does it serve a technical purpose or is it just to look badass? Only they know.

6 Unique/Exclusive Resource
Breeders: It’s a grim truth. Humanity is sick, and very few are truly healthy. Those that can insure a stable next generation wield an immense amount of power. Be it men whose seed is exceptionally potent or women whose wombs are perfectly fertile. Depending on how they leverage it, either could become a commodity or royalty.

7 Equipment Quality
Well-crafted: Just because it was made in the post apocalypse, doesn’t mean it isn’t good. Well made armor, guns are machined with actual technique and thought, and houses/clothes are a little more respectably made.

8 Motor-Pool General Make Up
Custom: Either customized to unrecognizable extents or built from the ground up, these cars and trucks don’t fit into any pre-war category. Generally prone to mechanical problems and ramshackle stylings, but common and easily repaired.

9 Special Vehicle Shit
Tesla coils: The cars have fucking tesla coils mounted on them. They can shock enemies that get to close, channel lightning into batteries from desert storms, and just look badass as fuck.

Big guns: Heavy machine guns, flamethrowers, maybe even an autocannon. The group can pack some serious heat in a vehicular combat situation.

10 Flagship Vehicle
Concert on Wheels: Like a drummer boy but way more awesome. Maybe it’s a squad of taiko drummers, a lone shredder on a flamethrower guitar, or an entire outfit of post-apocalyptic metalheads. Whatever it is, you’ll certainly not be going anywhere unnoticed, and it’s a very good way to get someone excited for killing.

What a Lovely Day (Mad Max NRP) [Now doing Pop. Rolls]

@ClocktowerEchos Oh no no, No moral standpoint problem. The problem is more that I'd imagine my guys to be more like a temporary band of Road Warriors that are here for some reason or another. In other words, the original plan of them is that they won't stick together for long (that's probably not going to be the case, but still). So yeah, I'm pretty sure I want the reroll.

(PS: If I got any other combination of rolls I would probably have thanked the gods for Breeders. So I'm not entirely ungrateful XD)