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4 yrs ago
Current is sexualizing Pokemon a variation of bestiality?
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4 yrs ago
lol. lmao
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5 yrs ago
JOHN TABLE!
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6 yrs ago
hearing rumors that rebornfan is storming the US capitol, looking for whoever's responsible for everyone ghosting his RPs
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6 yrs ago
you got a fat ass and a bright future ahead of you. keep it up champ
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@Tyler Yes, that's all quite helpful. Thanks for your detailed answers! Technology in these sort of settings always fascinates me, since there's rarely an established 'baseline' for what fantasy tech should be like, so it's typically quite unique from setting to setting.

I suppose I have a few more questions, then, if you wouldn't mind. I like to have a comprehensive idea of what sort of tools I have to work with. Are compasses common for navigational purposes? How detailed are most of the maps of Tyrannia? Does electricity or steam-powered tech exist in an experimental capacity, or have the Dwarves not cracked that yet?
@NecroKnight Potentially. That would be my fallback if this doesn't work out. I mostly wanted to go with the flotilla idea to get the unique perspective of the crews stuck on their ships and being forced to interact with other nations for survival. I like the aspect of being totally mobile.
This looks pretty interesting. I was considering something along the lines of a mobile flotilla that survives through scavenging and more underhanded tactics. Since that's not exactly a sustainable model, it'd likely be relatively new, and a break away from another (or multiple) of the Post-Apoc nations/city-states.
I’ve got a few questions regarding technology. Obviously the setting borrows from Medieval Europe quite a bit, so would it be correct to assume that gunpowder isn’t very advanced/widely used yet? The most you’d likely see is some equivalent of Greek Fire, or perhaps very archaic explosives?

If this is indeed the case, is there some magical alternative to a ship’s typical cannon? Or would naval vessels rely on ramming and hand held weapons, akin to more ancient navies like the Romans?
https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4597114 @Tyler Finished up my CS! Lemme know what you think. If there appears to be anything wrong with the history, lemme know. I tried to avoid using any sort of solid dates or times, but it couldn't be completely avoided.


REGISTERY OF THE AMORYNTHIAN ROYAL NAVAL ACADEMY



MILITARY SERVICE RECORD ARCHIVE, LISTED UNDER PUBLIC INFORMATION BY ORDER OF KING VALDEZ II




NAME: Kazor, Gashin SEX: MALE RACE: MIXED, HUMAN / DWARF

P.O.B (PLACE OF BIRTH): GARD, AMORYNTHIA P.O.R (PLACE OF RESIDENCE): DRAY, AMORYNTHIA

MOTHER: Kazor, Vilea (age 64, registered blind) FATHER: Kazor, Deon (deceased) SIBLINGS: Kazor, Laeya (age 9, craftsman assistant)

ENLISTMENT: Dray Recruitment Office (age 17) RANK: Captain DEPLOYMENT: Saint Leona




FIRST TOUR:
Gashin Kazor first served under the original captain of the Saint Leona, the late BOARSON, WILLIAM. Patrolled the coast of Tumeken as ordered by the king, under the Valdez-Setsiput Treaty in the courts of Ryth earlier that year. Engaged in ship to ship combat with pirate raiders, and assisted the Tumeken Army in clearing out bandits in Fool's Mistake.

NOTE: Following first tour of duty, 50% of earnings were sent back home to family in Gard.


SECOND TOUR:
Assisting in the transport of engineers and resources to Wizard's Tower for construction purposes. Saint Leona was tasked with protecting unarmed transports from northern pirates and keeping forest bandits in the foothills away from the construction site. During a battle with pirates, a Boatswain was shot and killed via a crossbow bolt to the skull. Gashin, being the most experienced deckhand present, was elected to take his position. Captain Boarson received a good deal of harsh criticism from command and his peers for promoting a dwarf man of Gashin's inexperience to the position of junior officer.

NOTE: 65% of earnings sent back to Gard. Father is diagnosed with unknown heart disease, and Laeya is born. Kazor heads to the Royal Naval Academy for training as a naval officer, under the orders of Captain Boarson.


THIRD TOUR:
Admiral [REDACTED]'s campaign to eradicate the pirate threat living on Rat's Nest island included a number of veteran pirate hunting ships. The Saint Leona was on the short list to join the fleet due to it's recent clashes with pirates in the north and along the Tumeken Coast. The fighting was incredibly fierce, resulting in several Royal Navy ships being severely damaged while others were sunk. Captain Boarson's first mate was slain in combat. Due to the courage he had shown during the campaign and his last two tours, Boarson elected to promote Kazor to the position. Mutiny was considered inevitable; that is, until the Saint Leona came under direct attack by several pirate ships. The captain was wounded, taking an arrow to the shoulder, and Gashin was forced to take the wheel. Showing considerable ability, Kazor directed the crew and successfully evaded their pursuers, earning the begrudging respect of the Saint's crew.

NOTE: 80% of earnings sent back to family. Deon passed away in his sleep, and Kazor returned home on leave to help his family with funeral arrangements. The Kazors, using the money Gashin received from his recent promotion, moved to Dray.


FOURTH TOUR:
Following the failed Rat's Nest campaign, the Saint Leona takes on low-stress cargo transport defense patrols. Captain Boarson's condition continues to deteriorate; the blow struck to him during the previous tour has, unbeknownst to him, become infected. While out at sea, William passes away, and Kazor finishes military duties until they can return to port. He is then unanimously recommended to take the position of captain by the crew. A letter written by Boarson on his deathbed confirms that these are his wishes, and command chooses to promote Kazor after eight months immediately.


FIFTH TOUR:
Gashin serves as captain of the Saint Leona for a number of years, acting as a pirate hunter in the seas near Rat's Nest. Fighting is intense and often, though Kazor shows a significant degree of skill at the helm of his ship. He receives several accolades for successfully capturing or sinking a number of vessels, having a direct impact on the region's frighteningly high population of pirates and criminals.

NOTE: As of very recently, Gashin has been pulled from duty and asked to accompany a special envoy by the king. His dwarven heritage, loyalty to the crown and navigational skills make Kazor a reliable asset for the mission his highness has planned.
Wands. Long, pointy wands.
One shot. One kill. That was my motto as a hunter. As a collector of prized pelts, from the red nosed reindeer to the ever elusive horned kangaroo. I never missed, never in my life, it was always a fatal shot. The lungs, the kidneys, a leg, if I wanted to bleed it out. If I intended to eat the prey, I would put it down painlessly. The meat was tender, filled with the ripe juices of the prey, rather than being tense and filled with the chemical cocktail that the prey's brain unleashed when under attack. That was supposed to be the case with this animal, a simple job, a reward for its skin and a warm meal in my belly. Fuck, how long has it been since I've had anything so delicious? Weeks, I thought to myself, possibly longer. I had survived in the savanna off of scraps, calorie bars and even the dung of an elephant - not my proudest moment. But now, I could see, clear as day, the prey in sight. It was an afront to God himself and all that was holy. No, I'm not a religious man, but even I can see how unnatural this thing is. Walking on two legs with an oddly human face, distorted into a smug expression, as if acknowledging it's abhorrent existence and stubbornly refusing to die. The hunter knew its tell tale phrase, it was rote in his brain after studying this mysterious beast for weeks. "You're too slow." It antagonized the lions. "Come on, step it up." To the giraffe. No one cared for this beast.

The hunter could see why, plainly.

I lick my lips, thankful that I was downwind of this speedy prey item. With a cock of my rifle, one that I never missed with, if you remember, I stared down the scope. It was. . Walking. Its gait slow, conservative. Nervous. Could it sense my presence, or did it just know that this would be the day of reckoning? I had no idea, this was a new item for me to add to my wall. With a steady breath, wiping the generous sweat collecting atop my brow, I teased the trigger. Gritting my teeth, I fired.

The hedgehog went down.

I missed the killing blow.

The mewling, pitiful and desperate, could be heard for miles, I had no doubt. Lions and hyenas would pick up on it soon. A curse, I jump from my perch and dash out for the monstrosity. Upon reaching it, I quickly observed its state. Laying in a poll of its own blood, a hole right on the leg. It would bleed out, the hunter assured himself. But the meat. . It would lose flavor. He couldn't have this. "Oi!" I say, false horror in my eyes. "Blimey! I didn't mean ta hitya, it's my bad me bud." My thick, South African accent spreading over the item of my interest. It looked on, confused and hopeful. I did not hesitate to take the beast home. It was a short walk to my jeep, a shorter drive to my shack, on a large hill clear of the elephant grass that flooded the plains. The despair in my dinner faded, as did consciousness. I was glad, having to keep up the facade of being an ally would grow tiresome. Patching the wound proved to test my knowledge of anthropromophic demons anatomy, but I saved its life.

For an hour, maybe two, I debated my goal. The peaceful snoring of the hedgehog greeted my ears, soothing me. . I had spent so long on the hunt, away from the comforts of home and a warm body. I sigh, looking at the round buttocks. "No." He tell myself. "I cannot do this." While the demon slept, trying to regain its strength, I eyed the knife between us. Without any hesitation, I grabbed it. "Sorry bloke." I whispered, a hand moving to carress the piney-hair of the beast. "Nothin' personal." And with a determined slash, the animal's throat was slashed. Eyes opened, panic and confusion, before the bliss of death took the suffering hedgehog into its arms. With a sigh, I laid my body against it, the blood gushing from its throat, spraying me profusely. "Bettah get the pot." I'd need to skin it first, debone the dinner item before I could even begin to think of my rumbling tummy. Shutting the confused, bewildered eyes that the dead beast gave me, I stood, looking around the cabin for the needed tools.

It wasn't a hard hunt. Not for this master tracker, but it tested his heart. It tested his manhood.

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Did I make it?
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