Just to clarify, Antonius is going to try and fill Rinack's skull with pure magical energy, thus exploding it. I've had it so Imperial Wizards can't use offensive spells, but mind control is still allowed. Rather than control Rinack, he wants to bridge a connection, and then let his power fill the warlock's brain to the point it ruptures and explodes.
Brutal.
But, the Imperial Wizard is Rinack's inferior, if the two went head to head at full strength, then Antonius would lose by a long mile. So you know, play it how you want.
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The Legionnaires did not stir at the word's of their enemy. It would be naive to say however, that they weren't shaken by the thousand smouldering corpses decorating the blackened grass ahead of them. A few whisperers of dissent leaked from some of the ranks, but the stalwart Centurions put those responsible to the sword with brutal efficiency. There would be no turn-coats today, it seemed.
"T'was a grand speech," smirked Erich, "I'm sure it'd work fantasticly on goat herds."
"He's playing for time; he needs to rest," spat Antonius, walking forwards with the gnarled wood his staff held firmly in his hands. "I urge you press the attack, Consul."
"Finnaly!" Shouted Erich, clapping his hands together, "you're speaking my language." He turned to the Signal's Master. "A general advance; we meet the barbarians as equals."
"Aye sir," nodded the Signal's Master.
The tempo of the band increased, and the drummer who had until now remained silent, beat a heavy rhythm. The disciplined squares of Imperial troops marched forwards in two distinct lines. Erich and Antonius stayed well behind the second, surrounded by sixty praetorian guards. The Consul was not a front-line warrior, not like he used to be, it would be folly to show such heroics at the age of seventy.
The barbarians thundered across the planes. Their jeers and battle cries drowning out the fierce shouts of the Centurions, as they battled to keep the ranks of their centuries in fine order. The gap closed between the two forces, and for a moment, every difference between the fighting styles of the Imperial Military Doctrine and the savageman's horde-mentality was highlighted. A great mass of black skinned men, each standing feet tall than their enemy, flailing their arms and shouting. The neat squares of the Imperials, silent and unwavering, marching in synchronised pace.
As the forces came within fifty feet, the Centurions gave a command. Javelins became thick in the air, descending on the bare chested savages with devastating effect. Their front ranks were obliterated, and those behind stumbled over the dead; the savageman's momentum was broken.
The Legionnaires rushed forwards, bringing their shields to bear against maces, clubs and axes. With practised efficiency, they withdrew, lunged, held, lunged, pressed. Slowly, the 16th Legion pushed its way through the masses, leaving behind a dense carpet of bodies. Centurions ran this way and that, blowing whistles whenever they felt the front ranks of their men were growing tired. When this happened, the third and fourth ranks would part, allowing their comrades to retreat through the gaps. This way, the legion would not lose its breath, not for a good many hours.
Antonius scanned the crowd of barbarians eagerly; seeking his target. He knew he had been right - Rinack would have struck by now. The Emperor's Bane was weak, if the Imperial Wizard could locate him, then he could enter his mind and explode his skull. Rather than track the Warlock's energy force, he searched for a void in the masses of life, and it wasn't long before he found it.
Pointing his staff towards the barbarians, he lent the entirety of his power to the attack.
"Feeling tired, are we? Traitor!" His voice thundered toward the weakened mental defences of his enemy.
"T'was a grand speech," smirked Erich, "I'm sure it'd work fantasticly on goat herds."
"He's playing for time; he needs to rest," spat Antonius, walking forwards with the gnarled wood his staff held firmly in his hands. "I urge you press the attack, Consul."
"Finnaly!" Shouted Erich, clapping his hands together, "you're speaking my language." He turned to the Signal's Master. "A general advance; we meet the barbarians as equals."
"Aye sir," nodded the Signal's Master.
The tempo of the band increased, and the drummer who had until now remained silent, beat a heavy rhythm. The disciplined squares of Imperial troops marched forwards in two distinct lines. Erich and Antonius stayed well behind the second, surrounded by sixty praetorian guards. The Consul was not a front-line warrior, not like he used to be, it would be folly to show such heroics at the age of seventy.
The barbarians thundered across the planes. Their jeers and battle cries drowning out the fierce shouts of the Centurions, as they battled to keep the ranks of their centuries in fine order. The gap closed between the two forces, and for a moment, every difference between the fighting styles of the Imperial Military Doctrine and the savageman's horde-mentality was highlighted. A great mass of black skinned men, each standing feet tall than their enemy, flailing their arms and shouting. The neat squares of the Imperials, silent and unwavering, marching in synchronised pace.
As the forces came within fifty feet, the Centurions gave a command. Javelins became thick in the air, descending on the bare chested savages with devastating effect. Their front ranks were obliterated, and those behind stumbled over the dead; the savageman's momentum was broken.
The Legionnaires rushed forwards, bringing their shields to bear against maces, clubs and axes. With practised efficiency, they withdrew, lunged, held, lunged, pressed. Slowly, the 16th Legion pushed its way through the masses, leaving behind a dense carpet of bodies. Centurions ran this way and that, blowing whistles whenever they felt the front ranks of their men were growing tired. When this happened, the third and fourth ranks would part, allowing their comrades to retreat through the gaps. This way, the legion would not lose its breath, not for a good many hours.
Antonius scanned the crowd of barbarians eagerly; seeking his target. He knew he had been right - Rinack would have struck by now. The Emperor's Bane was weak, if the Imperial Wizard could locate him, then he could enter his mind and explode his skull. Rather than track the Warlock's energy force, he searched for a void in the masses of life, and it wasn't long before he found it.
Pointing his staff towards the barbarians, he lent the entirety of his power to the attack.
"Feeling tired, are we? Traitor!" His voice thundered toward the weakened mental defences of his enemy.
Pasta Sentient said
I look forward to seeing what ya do with it :) I'm going to follow the five year plan for the most part; but subtly change a few things so that the Great Leap Forward and Cultural revolution are positive as opposed to negative :)
Was the mass slaughterings avoidable? I don't know much of Chinese modern history, on account of me never finding them interesting even though they're going to greatly effect things probably within my life time. All I know is that Mao got well angry, and started destroying cultural stuff, and people, on an industrial scale. I'm guessing that he wasn't mad? Just brutally practical when it came to China's greatness?
I'm trying to figure out how I could realisticly destroy the Ba'ath party. From what I know of suppressed politics, it's that the groups that are forced underground never go away, and if they are able to get popular support, then BOOM civil war. I've either gotta go down the route of nationalism, which'll bring me closer to the West and shun the other Arab states, or I've gotta go down the route of Communism, which ... meh. I'll see what happens when the game starts; I will likely approach various governments and ask for support in keeping Syria capitalist and stable. If they shrug me off, well then it's going to be HELLO UNCLE JOE :D
ulsterwarrior said
That's fine. I'm on vacation myself, but the weather's been bad today so I'm more available. Is it all right of I post my first IC.
Right, you've been added. Sorry for not getting back to you last night, I literally went off and crashed.
Maps been updated.
I've got a good point in Syrian history. Having read up on what happens after 53', I think I can pretty much send the country in any direction - barring outside imperialist intervention.
ulsterwarrior said
Just wondering, was I accepted?
Sorry mate, yes of course. I've been busy today, holidaying, drinking beer and getting frisky, as per the usual.
I'll be a bit more lucid tomorrow, but for now I don't want to edit the map using my laptop's touchpad. It's surprisingly (or maybe not) frustrating trying to do some basic things with such a temperamental device.
Jannah said
I'm just a sucker for detail when it comes to this stuff, but yea I'm cutting some stuff myself.
I took an axe to most of mine. Seemed little point in it really, no one's going to care about the past, only the future. As long as the key details are there, I think that's fine.
Not telling anyone how to ice their cake though.
Doctor Kyle Jackson sat on a rock; circled by his colleagues. Grimy lab coats, thick framed glasses, stethoscopes, surgical aprons - they were the last of a dead profession. Science and medicine had taken a heavy blow, and with the homeland lost, perhaps along with the rest of the continent, the surviving members of the Vanguard Research Initiative were all that remained of humanity's hope against the plague. This fact was not lost on the Doctor, and his beady eyes looked coldly at everyone. Analyzing. Weighing. Deciding.
"Okay," he croaked, "this is all we have?"
Jenny nodded, "the others have fled into the jungle."
"Fools. Already dead, more than likely. So primitive, is it to run away from destruction without a moment spared for thought," snapped Kyle.
"At least we have the vaccine," said Sadiir, the foreign nurse. Kyle liked this man; agreed with his ethics and overriding sense of the bigger picture. It didn't matter that he hailed from the poverty-stricken South, a sound mind was a sound mind.
"This is true, but so little of it, alas," conceded Kyle bitterly. "Thousands of phials have been left behind in the bunker. What we have now is so little it's barely worth mentioning."
Jenny shifted uncomfortably on the rock next to Kyle; her sodden blonde curls plastered to her shoulders with the air's humidity. "Did we get them all?" she ventured.
Kyle nodded, "yes, the plaguers are dead. We've been over this; no one would have escaped our watch unseen."
"I know, but - how many quarantin-"
"ENOUGH," shouted Kyle; spittle flying into Jenny's freckled face. "I wont be spoken down to by an overly elaborated nurse."
"Fuck you," screeched Jenny, rising from the rock and brushing herself as if to rid any races of him from her overalls. "You're a fucking idiot."
Kyle sighed, scratching his head. He looked up at her and smiled sympathetically, "it's okay Matron, I know you're not responsible for the hormones raging through your body. Shriek and scream all you want at me, I will not take it to heart. Come back to me when you're over your... internal cleansing."
"Un-fucking-believable," she hissed, storming away from the group; the other women present lent her no visible support, nor showed dismay at Kyle.
"Good. Let us get down to business; what are the most pressing needs of survival?" He asked, pulling out a notepad and a pencil.
"Shelter, I can sense a storm coming," grunted Sadiir, nodding over to a bunch of gathering grey clouds off in the distance.
"Good, good, what else?"
"Water, we have little," said a lanky surgeon of senior years.
"Yes, yes, of course. Food, how are we for food?"
"Zilch. We have nothing, save for a few tins of beans I found in the wreck," said a burly man, dressed in the navy blue of the science team's security detail.
Kyle removed his glasses, and rubbed his sinuses in irritation, before looking back up, "so we lack all three of the basic survival requirements? That's fantastic, novel really."
"Shelter first," said Sadiir; his pearly white eyes peering out from his dark skin almost menacingly. "The human body can go-"
"Yes, yes, I know. We have five days to get the water sorted, two weeks to get the food sorted, but three hours before the rain hits us," snorted Kyle, putting away his notepad. "Options?"
"The wreck?" asked the aged surgeon.
"Fuck that, there might still be infected in there," shouted someone hysterically.
"The jungle, those trees'll give us cover," said another.
"Trees sounds like a good idea," said Kyle, nodding slowly. "Well, there's nothing for it. Grab the stuff, and follow me - let's carry the torch of humanity away from the rains of despair."
"You're such a fucking snobby, socially inept prick," called Jenny from somewhere afar.
Kyle snickered despite himself.
Right, let's get this life carrier issue out of the way.
For the sake of pleasing your beloved GM, could we just leave the water purification equipment as a requirement to repair? I mean, we have floating air ships, it stands to reason that we could have a bit of leeway on steam engine logic. Perhaps we could put it down to the generator being unequal to the task, and that every little helps? Getting the thing off the ground will be nothing short of an engineering miracle, but hoorah away we go?
Otherwise I'll have to allow Grothnor the thing from the get go- which I'm happy to do, so long as everyone else is okay with the idea.
For the sake of pleasing your beloved GM, could we just leave the water purification equipment as a requirement to repair? I mean, we have floating air ships, it stands to reason that we could have a bit of leeway on steam engine logic. Perhaps we could put it down to the generator being unequal to the task, and that every little helps? Getting the thing off the ground will be nothing short of an engineering miracle, but hoorah away we go?
Otherwise I'll have to allow Grothnor the thing from the get go- which I'm happy to do, so long as everyone else is okay with the idea.
Raptorman said
I'm going to just drop this. I never posted a sheet and I don't really have time.
That's disappointing mate, but I guess an extinct lizards gotta do what an extinct lizards gotta do. See you around bud.
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