OfWindAndRain

Countries as people: World War One

@Lady Selune
lol
freedom eagle is amused

Kingdom of Montemshaven

Worldbuilding notes:

The Kingdom of Montemshaven sits about a day's travel south of the Montem River, which separates the colder, harsher northern climate and mountains to the milder south.

The large northlander village town of Norvegrheim, or Norvegr, sits about 6 days' travel uphill from the Montem river, about 7-8 days travel North- Northeast of the Kingdom of Montemshaven

The Great Inland Sea is to the West by roughly 5 days' travel.

The border of Montemshaven sits on the Montem river; northlanders have always beaten back any attempts to annex any land beyond the river. Several villages sit sporadically within 7 days of travel.

---

The Kingdom of Montemshaven is a relatively young kingdom, with only two neighbors to the south-east and south-west. Being the most northern kingdom in the patchwork quilt of the 'civilized world,' they're generally remote and left alone by most going-ons. Having only been establish 4 generations beforehand, they don't yet have strong blood ties outside the three northern kingdoms, nor anything of note beyond some specific resources.

The native reindeer and caribou are much larger than normal. Northlanders generally tame and ride the caribou, and the reindeer are ridden more often than horses by the people of Montemshaven. Regular horses aren't used to the snowfalls, steeper terrain, or colder climate, so the few horses that are found are sturdier, stronger, and fiercer.

The migration cycle of the caribou pass very close to Montemshaven- those caribou that aren't domesticated or penned as cattle are generally hunted as the herds pass.

Furthermore, because of the large size of the local four-leggeds, regular wolves are somewhat uncommon. One's more likely to run into the smaller packs of the much larger direwolves, and even more rarely than that, the extremely dangerous sabertooth- the belek. The belek has been often considered to be one of the most dangerous creatures in the world, easily more dangerous to the southern orcs, or the mountainous goblins. Beleks hunt for sport as much for food; they never back down from a fight, and will toy with their prey.

Culturally, the people are similar to Persian culture, with festivals celebrating the beginning of spring, midsummer, midwinter, and the passing of the caribou herds- which often number from several hundred to several thousand.

Kingdom of Montemshaven

Name:
Wulfric Sundberg
Age:
24

Basic description:
A strong, tall young man. Fair-skinned, fair-haired, roughly 6' 2". His long hair is braided down his back, and his beard is kept clean-cut on the cheeks and sideburns, but long and also intricately braided for about a half-foot where it grows from his lower jaw and chin. Muscled, and broadshouldered, generally clad in either leather armor, or leather armor with steel plating over shoulders, upper chest, hips, knees, and forearms. When out of armor, he generally wears higher quality leather clothing, with a thick white-grey patterned belek-fur slung around his shoulders. Always wearing tough leather boots.

Weapons of choice:
Greatsword, slung over his back most of the time. Two single-bladed throwing axes also dangle from his hip.

Personality:
To be roleplayed.

Home:
Norvegrheim, one of the most prosperous towns of the northlanders. Almost directly north of the Kingdom of Montemshaven, just over the mountain river that splits the northerners and the southerners.

Purpose:
Wulfric intends to follow the Path of Jormundyr- a trip that a pilgrim of the greatest of northern gods takes to find their way in the wider world, to try and figure out Jormundyr's purpose for them outside of the world. That is to say- he's

Countries as people: World War One

@bluetommy2
Okay, can I make you a deal
Please
can i still be the freedom eagle
I will put SO much more into the rest of it
but i really want to be the freedom eagle
even if it's just like- British Colony Human that revolted and went through a phase and became the beautiful freedom eagle he is now, because of... worms to butterflies or something

LET ME BE FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[Overwatch] Recall: The Second Omnic War

@Lady Selune
I don't think Genji is very comfortable running around without his mask. I could be wrong, but he barely shows his face once, and that was to his brother to convince him he was actually his brother.

There's craptons of DVa, and Mercy. Try just putting in "Overwatch [character] casual"
I know I've found a really good one for Pharah.

Countries as people: World War One

Name: United States of America

Appearance:
See above. 6' 3" tall freedom eagle.

Allegiance:
Technically speaking, the Triple Entente, though it took a while for the US to get involved.

Personality:
This freedom eagle is very definitely full of himself. He believes that he is right, and knows most everything. Always makes a point of inserting his opinion wherever possible- because really, America's opinion carries weight. As the victor of the Spanish-American War in 1898, and the establishment of America to be a World Power, really, who would dismiss their opinion? However, America only does this- when he's present. Otherwise, he keeps to himself, trying to enforce a policy of isolationism, only interacting occasionally with a few people. Simply put- America thought it best to keep some distance between himself and all the other people.

America is also very self-centered. Generally, when considering anything someone else asks of him, he looks to himself and wonders- does this benefit me somehow. It's all about the gain, of something.

Enjoys keeping up his reputation, which is also very important, and so will go to great lengths for that as well. And, of course, keeping all things his safe and protected. No one double-crosses America, and gets away with it!

Likes:
Money, not dying, freedom, funny things, bravery.
Trade! Most definitely trade- gaining some sort of benefit from others is always fantastic. There's always something to be gained, even if you're giving a great deal.
Survival! America has had trouble with surviving before- in the early days, when Great Britain is in charge. Staying alive is on the tippy top list of priorities.
Freedom! There's nothing like doing what you want. Anyone who isn't free are scum, and those that are, those are friends. They are allies- they are worth associating with.
Fun! America loves fun, for as long as he isn't the butt of the joke. And even then, America kinda likes those jokes too. America sees humor in everything.
Honor! Courage! These are great things, and are to be rewarded greatly. It was through great courage and bravery that America fought free from the parentals- the UK. And as such, he's willing to applaud anyone and everyone who's got some balls.

Dislikes:
Not-freedom! If it's not more democratically-inclined, it's BAD. And frankly, America hates not-free. Communism, extreme socialism, authoritarians, fascists- America dislikes dealing with them on principle alone, and more besides!

Special Talent: There's really two
Mass manufacturing of decent quality! America's quite good at manufacturing large quantities of goods that are reliable and efficient, with only a small time taken to shift production from one set of things to another.
Ingenuity! America's fantastic at creating new things, fighting a different way, or combining different things together to be unusually beneficial!

Weaknesses:
Conspiracies are one. Things that might confuse him are halfway deadly- because he can become nearly gridlocked if properly confused with some major moral or mental conflict. Things grind to a halt if something's wrong with some sort of logic, and requires some sort of revelation to break free of.
Surprise attacks. America's never been on the ball about attacking first, and so leaves themselves open to being attacked or targeted first. The only way to negate this is to really piss off America, or to have something America really, really wants.
Burst damage. America can mass manufacture a great deal of things, and has so much resources and industry that small-scale attacks, or trying to wear America down is halfway useless. A shock to the system with a sudden, short-term high-effect attack or the like is most effective, because it's hardest to recover from, and can shock America into uselessness for a short time.

Familial Relationships:
Darth Vader is the United Kingdom/Great Britain. However, America's on good terms with the formerly tyrannical parental. There's lots of trade, and America has built up a good relationship.
Other friendly nations are some of those colonies that he's associated with- Canada, for example.
Most European countries also have some pretty nice relationships, most of them beneficial with trade going back and forth. America's happy to trade.
Someone America doesn't really like, though, is Japan. They've been wanting the Pacific Ocean, and while it may be a long ways away... who says they have the right to it?

Other:
MUUUURICA!
FUCK YEAH!

The Northern Wintric Festival Begins With Invasion - Idea

Hi there!
I'd like to get some things out of the way, before I get onto the actual idea. I won't take long. If you don't want to read the three points below, skip to below the (hr) line.

First of all, I don't know what I'm going to do with this- this could just be characters from the main character's village, the invaders, this could be a group roleplay, or a 1x1. I don't know- I'm up for suggestions.

Second, I'm already fleshing out the primary and main character in this as I wrote this, so I may or may not post it down below.

Third, this is inspired from the book "The Wolf of the North" by Duncan M. Hamilton. It's a really good book, and I most definitely recommend this. Like the book, this is somewhat medium-fantasy, most definitely medieval, just after the invention of crossbows.

Now, I'll get right onto the idea. First, the summary of it all, then, the post itself.

---

SUMMARY:
There's a winter festival called the Wintric Festival of Jormundyr- these peoples' version of Odin. During the three-day event, a god- Ausmund the Gatekeeper- forms outside the town, and destroys the single most powerful individual in the village, Norvegr. Despite Norvegr being the most populated and powerful settlement in the northern taiga, the mad god and his horde of glowing grey spirit warriors- lost souls that rise from those they kill, or are killed by Ausmund- begin destroying the entire area, sending everyone running- including the fiercest warriors around.

The roleplay takes place in the aftermath of this attack, while people are trying to figure out what's going on. Southerners of all types- desertfolk, junglefolk, etc.- and northerners are available to play, as are certain nature-magic creatures, given proper explanation.

The Wintric Festival celebrates the "godlight," which is assumed to be Jormundyr's spirit in the sky- what we know as the Aurora Borealis. Because of the reclusive northerners' culture and this strange, mysterious event, many southerners come up north to experience it. Services and goods are traded for lodging and food; no money travels around the town. Northerners are very similar to the old Nords.

---

Every year, the first snow marks a new season in the northern villages of Jormundyr's Peaks. These northern people mark the first melt by a similar season change. They look forward to both, every year. However, there is one night, deep in winter, that they look forward to most of all- not the arrival of Winter, and then end of the Reavers' season, but the one day the skies are blessed with Jormundyr's presence, a great myriad of light and colors that flash all across the sky in blues and greens. Known to the southerns as both the Godlight and as the Aurora Borealis, it is a lightshow of beauty that draws in travelers and wanderers from all over the world.

In the deep of winter, halfway between the first snow to the first melt, is the Wintric Festival in the prosperous, large village of Dalr Norvegrheim. Home to the largest concentrated population of northlanders, this is one of the few places that has the farms, cattle, and land to easily have enough food for winter, even in bad seasons. Their warriors are the most numerous, and make one of the longest and hardest journeys to become one- when cattle raiders, Reavers, attack, they are more often than not pushed back. Neighboring villages rarely manage to nick cattle to help their own way through winter, and any northlander village wants Norvegr's aid in battle.

It's also one of the few places that welcomes Southerners enough to allow them to stay a winter, provided that they have plenty of goods or services to trade, and has one of the greatest views of Jormundyr's Spirit in the sky. And so, every midwinter, the Wintric Festival takes place, to celebrate the great gods, the coming of a new year, and of each other.

The Wintric Festival begins at midday just before the night Jormundyr's Spirit begins appearing in the night sky, and continues on for three days and three nights.

It was two days into the yearly Wintric Festival when something abnormal happened. The blue-green godlights, the spirit of Jormundyr, flashed red, once. A moment afterwards, the sky lit up in an almighty burst of sunfire, as a thick bolt of lightning struck not a quarter kilometer from the main gates of Norvegr.

And out of the small, steaming, muddy crater from the flash-melted snow, there stood a figure, thirteen feet tall, a soft golden glow about him, tinged red. Sea-green skin stretched taunt over donkey-like legs and a very human upper body, the half-man stared down at the revelry in the village, just over the wooden palisade walls. Chainmail, with underlying black leather, armor covered his upper body, while nothing but a somewhat short chainmail skirt covered the upper legs. Eyes that shone like the sun peered out of a heavy, dark brow that bore surprisingly normal, black eyebrows. A perfectly bald head was marred only by a single pair of dragon-like horns growing behind his ears, crooked and long.

The gates were open; there were some number of people standing at the entrance of the gate, who now stared at the figure in awe and fear.

The cloven-hooved god took several steps to the village gate, wicked claws sprouting from the figure's dragon-like four-digit hands, and the god barred his teeth, revealing wolf-like canines.

"You... celebrate. All you celebrate, you do..." hissed the beast. "What do you care for Jooormundyr. What do you care for the rest of his underlings. What do you care for his GATEKEEPERS."

The giant beast hissed, staring up at the sky and the floating, flying, hovering lights above.

It paid no attention the arrival of warriors; all fair-haired natives of the village, led by one slightly shorter, but nonetheless intimidating and fierce blonde female, a spear in hand. The closest standing to her looked to be a boy, no older than fifteen, but wielding a battleaxe as easily as the seasoned warrior behind him.

These warriors, unlike the foreigners that were around them, silently gaped at the beast. It matched the descriptions of the Gatekeeper perfectly- the minor god Jormundyr has guarding the gates to the northerners' equivalent to heaven, hell, and every realm otherwise.

The leading female warrior also noted that the Gatekeeper was wearing battle armor, not the traditional robes that they knew Gatekeepers wore. So, readying weapons, she waited for her flanking youngling to speak.

And so he did: "I am Jormundyr's Chosen, and as the one bearing his great Gift-"

With a snarl, the Gatekeeper shot a lance of godlight, just the same hues as those above them, at the boy. In an instant, he had exploded into a giant mass of gore. The one person, even as a child, that could match almost every single warrior in the village, the one person that had the Gift of Berserk, was destroyed in an instant.

"I am Ausmund! The Gatekeeper! And I have decreed you all to be exiled, for your souls to wander for eternity!"

And without further ado, the creature charged. Warriors scattered out of the way, unwilling to meet the beast in a headlong charge, as the mad god smashed his way through the wooden palisade walls as if they were nothing but twigs. Three houses were trampled and demolished before the warriors were back on their feet, ten people already dead.

Before anyone could muster even a halfway proper reaction to the sudden violence, the eleven people that had died thus far- most of them in pieces- had greyish, transparent glows around them. As warriors, revelers, and common folk recovered from the initial violence, the eleven spirits of the dead drew wispy swords and axes, climbed to their feet, and charged.

With another roar that sent out a sonic boom, warriors and townfolk alike broke and ran, finding any way possible to leave the growing horde of gray, ethereal spirit soldiers and the mad god that controlled them.

With a godly fear in her heart, the First Warrior of the village flees with a few of her warriors, driven away by the Gatekeepers' power. As the spell leaves her, she begins to recover, and search for survivors. In the middle of winter, she knows that people must band together, and find help.

---

Let me know what you think!
Sorry if that was longer than you expected or wanted- it all just started pouring out!

Countries as People iCheck

Recall: The Second Omnic War (An Overwatch RP)

@Solo
I think I might be in.

Just a question- having read the comics, I do know that Torbjorn took in Bastion, somewhat. In that capacity, would Bastion later be available for playability? As a Bastion main, who is the only one of my heroes in possession of a golden gun, I am exceedingly curious... c:

That being said, I have an OC that I might use until I can nab Bastion, if you'd be okay with that. Tweaked, of course, to suit the roleplay. That'd be because I originally made her for a somewhat extensive but now stalled fanfic.

Schooled in Magic

Wyrm said nothing to the girl. It wasn't that she couldn't hear her, it was just that speaking was irrelevant, and she didn't sign up for babysitting. Simply put- she was a courier for someone, and she was delivering a package. The fact that it can speak doesn't mean that she'll take back, because in all honesty, she didn't give a shit. She was fulfilling a favor, and there was nothing more to it.

So Wyrm said nothing, the whole 3-hour-trip to Whitehall. They crossed over valleys, meadows, a couple mountains in a single mountain range. For a brief, ten-minute span, they emerged between those two mountains in the range to be in the very tip of a valley- one that didn't connect to the lands that they had just passed. From the wyvern's birds-eye view, you could see nothing, for as far out as the thin fog would let you. Ash covered the ground, and shady figures dotted the landscape. Strange flickers of light, and a feeling of dread surrounded the barren lands.

Wyrm and her wyvern pushed on through, tilting downward to gain more speed so as to pass through faster. The mountains were all that separated these barren wastes of danger from more peaceful allied lands. Only half an hour after that did they finally reach their destination.

Situated in the middle of a green, vibrant valley stood a towering castle of modest heights and magnificent lengths. It only rose maybe a half-dozen stories into the air, but it sprawled to be well over the size of a small town. Inside its walls, the main keep took up nearly all the space. Various constructions ranged around outside the castle-palace of white-grey stone, some of them appearing to be farms of wheat, barley, and other grains, some other growing trees. In one large section, it was dense, dense forest. In another, there were multiple pastures, but the creatures that resided in were... shrouded by some sort of veil, that hung over it. Gardens sat here and there between them, and roughly three miles westward, there sat a prosperous, growing town, also walled with similar, though slightly shinier and more recently placed, rock.

Whitehall sat on the edge of the green valleys and still living lands of the Allied Lands- the many, many kingdoms and republics that made up the remaining living areas of the continent.

Just on the edge of one's sight from even the Wyvern's point of view, you could see those green fields and forests cut off abrupt into... nothing. More specifically, it was all dead- just grey, dead earth, barren brittle trees, and little else.

Wyrm and her wyvern banked to the side, spiraling down towards the castle. Just as the winged reptile passed over Whitehall's walls, Wyrm yanked back on her reins, the wyvern obediently throwing its wings out wide, catching as much air as possible to come to a complete and abrupt halt. Now beating its wings to stay aloft, they slowly lost altitude until the Wyvern's black claws finally touched ground, the wyvern dropping forward with a loud thump.

In front of them, there sat a set of stairs rising up to a large double-oak doorway, both of its doors only just now being thrown open by an eccentric young man, with wild black hair that had bright white streaks running through it. Tall, lanky, with a face that was as sharp as a spear, an undoubtedly wizened and old voice spouted from the man.

"Welcome, Wyrm, welcome! I see you brought Sunder's charge. Thank you for that, my dear. Now then, if you'd dismount..."

Wyrm didn't move, but instead they both looked at Jazelle.

"...And tell me your name. The one you'd like to be known by. If you don't know it yet, it's no rush. Simply report it to any tutor, or myself, by the end of the week. Now, we're already partway through the opening two weeks, so if you'd come with me...?"

The man- who appeared young, but spoke with a voice that was aged and somewhat unused to having such a capable body- stepped to the side, flourishing a little to present the grand entry hallway beyond the doors.

"Whitehall academy awaits."