Jymson shook his head at Rob; the scoundrel had his maiden-bedding head on again. "Elora, be 'er first name, but I ain't too sure 'o the last," he slurred. "Clothe merchant 'o some kind. Too good for you, ya bastard, besides, 'er mother would have your guts for garters. Literally, like."
"She's a Goddess though, did you see her Jim?" Chimed in Tedmin, smirking broken teeth beneath his thatchy beard.
Jymson clipped his friend around the head. "Oi, you're taken, and besides, you're an ugly mug. You'd not get twenty feet from her before she had the guards 'ave ya."
Seeing that Rob was genuinely interested, and Jymson being a man of great honour when it came to revealing women's identities to his rowdy but good willed patrons, he leant in.
"'er 'ouse is about a twenty minute walk down the street, but ya best take yer men with ya, or call for backup from the watch, because that girl's mother could put an entire legion to the sword with her savage mouth alone," he said, holding up a hand that bared the feint trace of a crescent shapred scar. "Literally, she bit me hand 'cus I let that little one in 'here about two years back when she weren't meant to. Tried to calm her down, like, but she just chomped my hand. Never been so close to caving in a woman's skull, I tell ya!"
Standing back, Jymson offered his customary warning. "You know the rules Rob, any mistreatment or foul mouthing towards her and that's the last time I help you sheath your sword in anything. It's a tight rope, see? Giving out information about desired women, some men would do terrible things with it."
Tedmin laughed, snorting beer all over the bar. Jymson grimaced.
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With ya there buddy.
Am I okay to make an entrance? Or do I need to await the arrival of Antos/Mihail?
Am I okay to make an entrance? Or do I need to await the arrival of Antos/Mihail?
Bertil scowled at the Jarless, his momentary warmth towards her extinguished in an instant. "I expected higher wisdo- no, I guess you have spoke the way I imagined. Praise the Elves, the almighty Elves, whose gifts and excellence in matters of... grace? Have allowed them to lay claim to the whole world. OH, how we, the men of the North, tremble before their conquering armies!" His lips, quivering in anger, smoothed and he sighed. "Apologies, those were hasty words, Jarless Eyildr."
Kneeling before the Jarls, but facing the King directly, Bertil threw in his lot. "The Elves are weak, they are frightened of us, from a military standpoint. Just look at the few settlements that dot the Galadrian coast line, and the sorry state of their naval assets. We may be men, crude and unfashioned in the eyes of the Elderborn, but we have comprehensively beaten them at sea. Their magic was not there to save them, nor was their wisdom; I see little use in these commodities then. Trust not in the Elves to make Norsia strong, but as Jarl Koval said, my King, to keep it tame - to keep it weak. The Middle Way, as I have proposed, and yes, it is a selfish way too, will be our best bet of rising above those who would see us wither and die."
Standing, Bertil cast the last of his dice. "Escgor's chief concern is the pirate menace plaguing our trade routes. I have lost much because of it, and my people suffer with me. I will stake eight longships of my mercantile fleet to the cause, but must withhold two to patrol the Icevein Inlet. My sailors may not be courageous warriors, but they are well organised, well equipped and will stand in battle." Turning to Otrygg, the Merchant-Jarl nodded his approval, "I am with you on this, we must cut the serpent off at the head. The King be praised, this darkness will be resolved in months, not years."
Having made himself an enemy of the hag, donated most of his trade fleet and cemented his dislike for the Elves, Bertil decided to call it a day as far as his input was concerned. Bowing once more and with a slight ache in his lower spine, he noticed, the Merchant-Jarl of Escgor retreated to the safety of his chair with the aim of aquiring more Galadrian wine.
Kneeling before the Jarls, but facing the King directly, Bertil threw in his lot. "The Elves are weak, they are frightened of us, from a military standpoint. Just look at the few settlements that dot the Galadrian coast line, and the sorry state of their naval assets. We may be men, crude and unfashioned in the eyes of the Elderborn, but we have comprehensively beaten them at sea. Their magic was not there to save them, nor was their wisdom; I see little use in these commodities then. Trust not in the Elves to make Norsia strong, but as Jarl Koval said, my King, to keep it tame - to keep it weak. The Middle Way, as I have proposed, and yes, it is a selfish way too, will be our best bet of rising above those who would see us wither and die."
Standing, Bertil cast the last of his dice. "Escgor's chief concern is the pirate menace plaguing our trade routes. I have lost much because of it, and my people suffer with me. I will stake eight longships of my mercantile fleet to the cause, but must withhold two to patrol the Icevein Inlet. My sailors may not be courageous warriors, but they are well organised, well equipped and will stand in battle." Turning to Otrygg, the Merchant-Jarl nodded his approval, "I am with you on this, we must cut the serpent off at the head. The King be praised, this darkness will be resolved in months, not years."
Having made himself an enemy of the hag, donated most of his trade fleet and cemented his dislike for the Elves, Bertil decided to call it a day as far as his input was concerned. Bowing once more and with a slight ache in his lower spine, he noticed, the Merchant-Jarl of Escgor retreated to the safety of his chair with the aim of aquiring more Galadrian wine.
Dinh AaronMk said
I myself work full time - often more than that - and for most of the year will be balancing college work, if part time. And between that and general work I find time to administrate at least one major RP and may be conspiring in the creation or keeping two others alive. So if maintenance is the simple base concern - as I seem to be getting - then my advise: simply don't.I can get it if you're trying to keep the story going by operating everything not taken since otherwise it'd risk everyone getting disinterested in their own private world in their own far-off corner. But if you'r having so much trouble yourself calculating the mathematics behind each move and the rolls without a computer program already then you're best off surrendering NPCs to the mercy of the players and you, as the GM, picking up the more plot-important faction: these mythical invader beings.Actions between NPC and player will be for sure highly arbitrary and if not watched over well enough may end up with people making honestly bullshit moves to appear in the upper hand. Most of the time I don't often have time to read the 5k+ long posts I get in my own RP. So I'll trust the "moderation" to the people at large. But the group in that has been with me and with each other for long we all know each other's mannuerisms and we can all trust each other to not be a splendid fun-breaker.I've personally found the tedious task of keeping track of stats, numbers, and rolls a bit much in NRP at least. I could argue it's flavorless at best, but clearly time isn't a luxury and may actually be more harm than good. At least releasing control of NPCs would simplify moment-to-moment operations and keep the RP from playing out like an even more long-winded game of Total War or Civilization.It comes with the territory in the friends I keep.But on the map note:If you had caught me in perhaps better times I'd have Photoshop to at least make up a quick thirty-minute tracing job. More if I decided to go so far as to put in the Major kingdoms or duchies part of the larger kingdoms/empires in Europe. But I don't got those resources given the computer it was on decided to die.
I didn't get the impression that players on the guild were fond of free-form NRPs. In my last one, there was actual surprise and somewhat dismay at the lack of any mechanics save for my repeated mention of 'common sense' and 'realism'. I agree though, they are for obvious reasons 304924923225252% easier to manage because as a GM you don't have to do anything, at all. In fact, you're not a GM, you're just a guy in the game you made.
But yeah, back to my point. First of all people wanted a time system, and then they wanted a combat system, and before long I found myself doing more and more of it. I was surprised, as I am a returning RP player myself, having been absent from any form of it for the last six years. NRPs were newish back then (think we called them diplomacy RPs?), and it was all free form. Here though I got the impression that times have changed, and that players need direction and systems to work by.
If the players here would rather this RP dropped the mechanics, then I'd have no problem with that. I was merely attempting to modernise and cater things to the desires of the general populous (from my experience).
As for the map, I did think of tracing one. What concerned me though, was that for a map to have actual historical regions of the time period, would have meant loads of tiny text and names no one recognised. Much easier then, was it to just simply use a modern map with countries people would be familiar with. Sure it doesn't match up with the real life boundaries, but then, I didn't create this RP to adhere strictly to finite historical details. I haven't seen that kind of interest here, and if I had, then I would have focused more on such things. However, you're the first person I've come across who feels it necessary to plomp themselves down next to me and start pointing out all of the things that don't match up with real medieval Europe in the year 1,200 A.D for no apparent purpose.
I appreciate your criticism, but I do find it wholly unwarranted in this instance.
Many thanks.
Upon his King's request for his council, Bertil Reenburg mustered his sobriety for another brazen attack on the Moot. Standing from his chair, this time gracefully and with steadied feet, he clicked his tongue thoughtfully.
"The Dwarves are an industrial nation. Mines scar their land, from border to border. They are rich in metals, and gemstones - so much so that our Norsian iron or steel will be of little worth to them," he began. "However, from what I know of their country, and from what I am told by my Merchant Council back home in Escgor, they are suffering food shortages. Their love of digging deep for riches has brought neglect on their sparse farmland, and many of the lower folk go without nourishment for days. There is talk of rebellion in some of the outer fringes of the Dwarven holds, and King Goldgrin rightly fears such things. Even now his army scours the population for dissenters, but this is only a short term solution, and he knows it so.
"Since the freezing of Dwarven-Elven relations, Galadriel has withheld several grain shipments and other food goods from Highathar. Attempts between the two races have been made to rekindle such trade deals, but so far nothing substantial has become of this. Therefore, if we truly wish to earn Dwarven gold, I propose we use our reserves of fish and grain to bolster Highathar's faltering agriculture. King Goldgrin would likely be most willing to lap up this offer, as it would certainly remove the threat of hunger-driven revolts. However, it is only a matter of time before the Dwarves begin to reinvest in their farmland, so I am unsure of how long lasting this agreement would be. Short term however, we stand to benefit.
"Though, Galadriel may see our attempts to supplant them as Highathar's main food exporter. We must tread lightly, though I'm sure that with enough kind words, and perhaps a few superficial deals such as recognising the Elven Kingdom's claim to the waters immediately off their coastline will be enough to keep their frowns at bay."
Bertil bowed to the King. "Before I return to my chair, I would ask Jarless Eyildr's thoughts on the matter. I may be the Steward, and graciously so, but foolish is the merchant to ignore the insight of his peers."
"The Dwarves are an industrial nation. Mines scar their land, from border to border. They are rich in metals, and gemstones - so much so that our Norsian iron or steel will be of little worth to them," he began. "However, from what I know of their country, and from what I am told by my Merchant Council back home in Escgor, they are suffering food shortages. Their love of digging deep for riches has brought neglect on their sparse farmland, and many of the lower folk go without nourishment for days. There is talk of rebellion in some of the outer fringes of the Dwarven holds, and King Goldgrin rightly fears such things. Even now his army scours the population for dissenters, but this is only a short term solution, and he knows it so.
"Since the freezing of Dwarven-Elven relations, Galadriel has withheld several grain shipments and other food goods from Highathar. Attempts between the two races have been made to rekindle such trade deals, but so far nothing substantial has become of this. Therefore, if we truly wish to earn Dwarven gold, I propose we use our reserves of fish and grain to bolster Highathar's faltering agriculture. King Goldgrin would likely be most willing to lap up this offer, as it would certainly remove the threat of hunger-driven revolts. However, it is only a matter of time before the Dwarves begin to reinvest in their farmland, so I am unsure of how long lasting this agreement would be. Short term however, we stand to benefit.
"Though, Galadriel may see our attempts to supplant them as Highathar's main food exporter. We must tread lightly, though I'm sure that with enough kind words, and perhaps a few superficial deals such as recognising the Elven Kingdom's claim to the waters immediately off their coastline will be enough to keep their frowns at bay."
Bertil bowed to the King. "Before I return to my chair, I would ask Jarless Eyildr's thoughts on the matter. I may be the Steward, and graciously so, but foolish is the merchant to ignore the insight of his peers."
NewSun said
Aw dang. I assume Otto survived the encounter? So if I take 800 Lesser Breeds (to be replenished) and 1400 Isarimer (to be replenished) off of the Germany offensive group, the losses would essentially be mitigated this round? I think i'll leave the Bloodstalker warband as is. They don't need any reinforcing.
Correct.
EDIT: Yeah, the Emperor survived.
MILITARY
- - Gathering army outside of Paris.
DIPLOMACY
- - Refuses Humlon's attempts at diplomacy, slaughtering the diplomatic delegation.
MILITARY
- - Army assembling on the southern coastline.
DIPLOMACY
- - Barred Humlon delegation from entry into the Kingdom.
- Cardinal John Fletcher requests entry to Normandy, to formally investigate the strange happenings there.
MILITARY
- - Gathering strength near Hamburg.
Army Status Card
DIPLOMACY
[list[/list]
MILITARY
- - No Actions
DIPLOMACY
- - No Actions
MILITARY
- - No Actions
DIPLOMACY
- - No Actions
MILITARY
- - No Actions.
DIPLOMACY
- - No Actions
You faired okay. Both human forces stood, surprisingly. Lithuania is yours, but Germany still stands. Results:
Germany/Poland Border
Isarimer = 2,200 losses, to be allocated to troops of your choosing, although you may as well replenish them.
Humans = 5,400 losses. Withdrawn to Hamburg, where the Emperor is combing with his militia to either defend or counter attack.
Lithuania:
Isarimer = 625 losses, to be allocated to troops of your choosing.
Humans = 3, 250. Remaining force has ceased to be combat effective.
Germany/Poland Border
Isarimer = 2,200 losses, to be allocated to troops of your choosing, although you may as well replenish them.
Humans = 5,400 losses. Withdrawn to Hamburg, where the Emperor is combing with his militia to either defend or counter attack.
Lithuania:
Isarimer = 625 losses, to be allocated to troops of your choosing.
Humans = 3, 250. Remaining force has ceased to be combat effective.
Pope Honorius III swayed in his chair, heavy not just with age, but also pain. “What news of Poland?”
Hans Greitel, Cardinal of the Holy Roman Empire, bowed his head. ““Mieska III the Old perished along with the last fighting force in Poland, as he held the walls of Warsaw against the demonic tide.”
Honorius III’s wrinkled face creased in anguish, “what of his people?”
Jacque Monrowe, the Cardinal of France made the cross on his chest. “Your Holy ears should not bear the descriptions of our enemy’s twisted spoils, most Holy Father.”
“If God has seen fit for me to walk into the bounds of Hell, then so be it. Come, tell me,” demanded Honorius III impatiently. Spittle had started to run visibly down one side of his mouth.
“Reports tell of mass death, and of rape. Women and children are not spared from our foe, it seems. If what Cardinal Greitel’s countrymen say is true – the hulks of Poland feast on the flesh of mankind,” Jaques paused to form another cross, “those who would resist are shown a fate worse than death.”
The Pope was visibly shaking at this point, but as John Fletcher, Cardinal of England, attempted to adjourn the meeting, the old man stood from his chair. Aloud he cursed, arms thrusted up towards Heaven, and soon practiced Latin poured from his cracked lips in tirades of heresy.
“Why have you abandoned us, Oh Lord?” he screamed; eyes welling in dismay.
Cardinal Greitel stepped over to the Pope, and embraced him as a father would a frightened child. “Fear not, Holy Father, all is not lost, and if these truly are the End Times, then Our Lord will be watching us with eager eyes – to see the extent of our resolve. Despair not, Holy Father, for these demons can be killed – as we saw in Rome-“
“Rome is lost!” Hissed the Pope, breaking the embrace with clawed fingers. “Don’t you see? Swords are of no match for that which cannot be killed. Satan has sent forth his legions, the Kingdom will fall.”
“My Earthly sovereign, Emperior Otto IV, is assembling his army as we speak. He intends to rid Poland of the demons, and to save its people. Have faith, Holy Father, for we all need you now more than ever,” begged Cardinal Greitel, kneeling on one knee.
“What of the horde of giants that have laid waste to half of Spain? What of those flat-faced demons dwelling in the marshes of Flanders, and of Burgundy? So much loss. The war comes to Man on many fronts, it would seem,” said the Pope, irremovably lost in the depths of depression.
The French Cardinal raised his hand. The Pope turned an ear to him. “My sire, the King of France, is mustering to assist the Spaniards. Even now, he calls the entirety of his army to rally at Paris. From there, he will march on Spain to repel Hell’s legions. Then he will turn northward, to liberate Normandy, Burgundy and Fl-“
“The English defeated the evil ranks in Normandy, before the walls of Caen! How now have we lost it? Has a second coming made good of the English army, as they did of us in Rome?” Interrupted the Pope, shouting in an untenable rage.
“We didn’t lose it, Holy Father, or rather we did,” said Cardinal Fletcher. “But not through force of arms. It simply ceases to exist.”
“What?” came the collective response of the Cardinal Council.
John nodded. “I heard word yesterday from a group of my countrymen fleeing the north. Apparently, all roads leading to Normandy turn on themselves. The nearer you draw to the coast, the further away it stretches. It is… most strange.”
“Strange? Is that your best word for it? Strange!?” The Pope was now a thing of lunacy.
“Though sweet melodies can be heard bouncing around the countryside, as if thousands had joined in communion to sing praise,” continued Cardinal Fletcher; unlike the Pope, the Englishman seemed to be rather fascinated by the situation than fearful of it.
“Praise to whom?” Asked Cardinal Monrowe, his face twisting in curiosity. “The Devil?”
“I am not sure. It was not of French, English or German tongue,” replied the English Cardinal. Stopping to consider his thoughts, he continued, “though I cannot confirm what the refugees have said as truth. They are probably mad with grief and terror, as many others are the world over. Allow me to take a retinue there, to investigate, and I will solve the mystery.”
The Pope waved a hand. “Granted,” he sobbed.
Visibly exhausted from his ordeals, the aging Patriarch of the Catholic Church left the Cardinal Council. His guards followed after him, as did his physicians.
“He is a madman,” said Cardinal Monrow. “We’d be best served to have him stand down.”
“Watch your heresy,” hissed Cardinal Greitel.
High King Falrir Maelstrom circled the naked humans. They had been brought before him on his orders, and were divided into two lines of ten. One line were males, and he studied them curiously. Some were weak, wrought with age or disease. Others were strong, with broad shoulders and princely faces. All however were united in their universal fear, and they quivered under his gaze.
Falrir was above arousal, but he admitted to himself there was a slight tingle of excitement in him that he had not felt in an Age. The human females varied wildly in their qualities – and ugliness – much unlike those of his kin. High Elves looked almost identical, no matter their lineage, and though they were a beautiful people to look upon, Falrir tired of bedding the same perfect forms of High Elf maidens. He had been doing so for twenty thousand years, after all.
One of the women shrieked and recoiled as he brushed his fingers across her hair. “Do you fear me?” He asked in response; his face a stone slab of emotion. The woman was too terror-struck to reply. His quick mastery of Italian, French and German in the brief weeks he had been on Earth had obviously startled the poor thing.
“You needn’t,” he said. His eyes bore into the woman, almost menacingly, though in truth there was no malice. The murder of his son had already been avenged, and he wished for no more bloodshed. “We are very much alike, and this fear and violence are an abomination.”
Turning, Falrir clasped his hands behind his back and walked back to his throne. He was a being of beauty; immaculate white robes draped his body, his flesh was smooth and glowing and his ivory hair ran down his back in a straightened throw.
He looked skywards, towards the magnificent arched ceiling of St. Peter’’s Catherdral. It was a poor feat when compared to the master works for the High Elves, but it was nonetheless noteworthy of human potential. In Rome, as the natives called it, Falrir could sense great magical potential streaming from the ground beneath him. It was of little wonder then, that the humans had chosen to sit their spiritual patriarch here.
“Send them back to the city,” he commanded, turning as he approached his throne. “Send them with whatever they hold of worth in this world.” Looking at the humans, he said ‘Let it be known that we are not occupiers, but your friends.’
As the humans were led out by a dozen or so High Elven pikemen, the High King was approached from the flank by his chief advisor and son: Prince Therandir.
“Any word from the other refugees, my son?” asked Falrir, not bothering to turn his head.
“None sire. The Halflings and our Lesser Kin have not made it through,” replied Therandir, looking sad despite the stony expression.
“How?”
“The portals were interrupted on Gorika; a great chasm opened beneath Tarnia I believe, disrupting the works of our Arch Mages and their assistants. They may yet make it through, or they may have been lost forever.”
“It was a risk we had to take. Ironic how the Gods would choose to save the Isarimer and the Lorenvolk, but send the kinder races to their doom. Perhaps this is a message meant for us.”
“And what message could that possibly be father?”
“Our time is coming to an end. We, the High Elves, whom have long fought for peace and prosperity on Gorika, are a dying race. The Gods may well be underlining this point, withdrawing our friends to the shadow, so that we stand alone against our Doom.”
Dinh AaronMk said
Looking at the time line for human history I can see what I can imagine is an attempt to say "all things that happened irl have happened". Apart from a magical invasion of magical things, the middle-ages haven't changed much...But... Why does the map so otherwise so, so much. And I realize some territorial changes have been made in the course of the IC. But... Still...Where's the Angevian territories of France? The fiefs not even directly rules by the central French crown? Why's Normandy not British? Why is Belgium even independent, that shouldn't be a thing until much later. And where's the the HRE's third kingdom? The Kingdom of Burgundy? France seems to own that. Not to mention Catalonia doesn't seem to exist, nor Leon or Castille. And the Byzantine Empire is too present, if this is the 13th century it's one of two things: The Latin Empire or not, and would be bordered by the Empire of Nicea, itself bordered by the Seljuks.Really, this'd be the Greek and Balkans about around this time.The Most Serene Republics of Venice and Genoa are left out too. Venice at least was a very major power on account of its trade and navy, it's stunning it doesn't exist on the map.
Ouch, you cut me deep bro.
Truth be told, I couldn't play several nations all at once. Even though they only make basic moves, and I've stream lined the combat system, you'd be surprised how long it takes to sort it all out. I'm not some kid who has the evenings to blow away, I'm a full grown adult with a fiancée, a job and a flat to manage - though I somehow have more time than anyone else I've ever met on this guild. Still, I can't sit here six hours a night, every night, dictating the moves of 20 major powers.
Secondly, if the world was made up what I've termed 'Major NPCs', the players would find it much more difficult to get a foothold anywhere.
I tried to shrug it off by mentioning the millions dying, and the Kingdoms felled in the cataclysms caused by the establishment of the portals, it was lazy of me and I apologise, but roleplaying all those nations was just not possible. I was hoping at this RP's conception that people would like to play as the human Kingdoms, and would represent the last standing nations of Europe post-World Collide, but people wanted to make their own races from Gorika and so I catered the RP to match the trend. This allowed me to reduce workload and bring the RP together much sooner than if I left the human slots open.
Kudos though for your historical knowledge. If the guild was a pack of crazed historians then no doubt I'd be chased out of here in a heartbeat.
EDIT: Also, sourcing a medieval map that I could easily colourise from the time period this RP is set was impossible - unless you've found something?
Marra Mistborn said
I have been waiting for acceptance. -awkward face-
Apologies, I've done your nation sheet, prepared a few things, and left adequate time for others to join. Unfortunately they have not. This may be down to general disinterest, or the absence of Venice as a nation - I don't know, but either way, I'm ready to start.
Marra, you'll receive your tech tree shortly. Summer 1200 AD will also start today.
Thanks for your patience.
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