Luckily for you, your friendly neighborhood GM is currently a third of the way done a post that looks like it will rival Lexicon's in length.
(Before you ask, yes, it is a competition)
(Before you ask, yes, it is a competition)
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Nightwing95
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Well, it still affects the cavalry. Good luck getting horses through rubble, and still be able-bodied afterwards.
Finished Lexicon's post! Good job keeping quality with that much quantity.
The city will be poorly-defended anyway, with all the real soldiers marching south. There's maybe 1000 irregulars guarding it (militia, watchmen, diverse mercenaries), and 400 or so proper soldiers (most belonging to the Duke of Lafferand's retinue).
1. The Winds can approach the city undetected without too much trouble; the outer region's almost uninhabited anyway.
2. Again, making it past the outer wall shouldn't be too difficult, just a matter of climbing over rubble in most places. The only
difficulty will be getting siege equipment (ladders, that ram) through the walls, and the ruins. Maybe send some scouts ahead to
search for a clear way through; still, you'll have to have soldiers clearing obstacles in front of the heavies and cavalry.
3. Assuming the Winds make a beeline straight for the inner wall, they should be detected only when they're quite close. The
defense would be chaotic and unorganized, with random militiamen rushing to the walls. The longer you guys take to capture the
walls, the harder it will be, but given the martial skill of the Winds, they should be over the walls after a short scuffle.
4. After the inner walls are taken, it should be a simple matter running down the watchmen and seizing the city. The hard part is
what comes after. Duke Lafferand is a cold bastard: he'll hold back his personal army during the battle, and when the inner wall
falls, he'll just fortify himself in the Holy Quarter, which is built like a fortress. At that point, you'd have to siege him,
or negociate (He's planning on defecting if Oromis starts winning anyway, it's just a matter of convincing him now's the time).
So there you go, the main challenges I see in the siege: Getting all that cavalry and siege equipment past the ruins, and cracking Lafferand's citadel.
Yes, I'll be showing what's going on with Oromis (Whether by his PoV or someone else's, I haven't decided). I'll also continue having Lafferand as a main PoV of mine (I created him specifically to solve this problem).
It is indeed. Once again, while a distraction would help Myra get the gate open [most likely, but it depends on how careful they are in their distribution of garrisons], it would make forcing a surrender more difficult. The more combat-ready enemy soldiers in a place where cavalry cannot fuck their day up, the worse things get for the Winds, and the slower and more costly a surrender will be for both defenders and attackers.
The city will be poorly-defended anyway, with all the real soldiers marching south. There's maybe 1000 irregulars guarding it (militia, watchmen, diverse mercenaries), and 400 or so proper soldiers (most belonging to the Duke of Lafferand's retinue).
VAHIR'S PREDICTIONS FOR THE BATTLE
1. The Winds can approach the city undetected without too much trouble; the outer region's almost uninhabited anyway.
2. Again, making it past the outer wall shouldn't be too difficult, just a matter of climbing over rubble in most places. The only
difficulty will be getting siege equipment (ladders, that ram) through the walls, and the ruins. Maybe send some scouts ahead to
search for a clear way through; still, you'll have to have soldiers clearing obstacles in front of the heavies and cavalry.
3. Assuming the Winds make a beeline straight for the inner wall, they should be detected only when they're quite close. The
defense would be chaotic and unorganized, with random militiamen rushing to the walls. The longer you guys take to capture the
walls, the harder it will be, but given the martial skill of the Winds, they should be over the walls after a short scuffle.
4. After the inner walls are taken, it should be a simple matter running down the watchmen and seizing the city. The hard part is
what comes after. Duke Lafferand is a cold bastard: he'll hold back his personal army during the battle, and when the inner wall
falls, he'll just fortify himself in the Holy Quarter, which is built like a fortress. At that point, you'd have to siege him,
or negociate (He's planning on defecting if Oromis starts winning anyway, it's just a matter of convincing him now's the time).
So there you go, the main challenges I see in the siege: Getting all that cavalry and siege equipment past the ruins, and cracking Lafferand's citadel.
@Vahir I know you said you didn't want to control the Etruscan forces, but...I mean, somebody should. Even just giving us a general idea of what they're doing and letting us fill in the details should be fine. That way you can still get Oromis involved without head-jumping too much. Just my two cents.
Yes, I'll be showing what's going on with Oromis (Whether by his PoV or someone else's, I haven't decided). I'll also continue having Lafferand as a main PoV of mine (I created him specifically to solve this problem).
Wow. It's.. going to take me some time to power read that post.
If you show up in last years dresses, let alone cuir boulli or whatever Myra wears, Oromis will have no choice but to exile you.
"Tavellan, by not looking stylish, you've weakened me in the eyes of the world. The only just punishment for such a heinous crime is death. Let this be a lesson to all those who aren't 100% fabulous."
-Oromis, God-King of mankind-
OH SHIT SON A NEW IC POST
Also, before I get to posting, the knights ARE leaving the city shortly, correct?
Yup.
EDIT: "The city might very well come under siege soon: in fact, he was counting on it"
Do not want. Not one bit.
Well, he doesn't know about the PCs. He's expecting to be attacked by Oromis himself, once he's finished trouncing the Prophet. In any case, if you guys get bogged down in a siege of the city, things will go south quickly regardless.
'Elves don't live in deserts' made me laugh. Just out of curiosity, will the Prophet fall for the trap? Or is this one of those 'wait and see' type deals lol?
You asketh, and I answereth.
(God, I'm introducing a lot of NPCs.)
The most important men in the city of Tolos were gathered around a single table, in the heart of the Camerenae, the largest and most magnificent structure perhaps in the entire world, a marvel of archetecture from which was ruled the city, the Etruscan lands beyond, and even the entire League. The table was a semi-circle in shape, with the venerable Prophet Aedus II at the apex, flanked on both sides by the administrators, generals, and political power brokers who ran the League. In this manner, they could all see and interrogate the ragged man before them as equals.
"Speak, then, messenger," the Prophet said slowly, "deliver your message in full for all these lords to hear."
The messenger looked pale, his face devoid of color, crippled with fear at delivering news- bad news- to the most powerful men he knew existed, including His Holiness himself. "Y-yes, your Wisdom," he managed. "It's the, ah, impostor claiming to be the Holy Oromis. He's landed in Laon."
"And how did he manage that?" asked Fadric, Duke of Lafferand, raising his thick eyebrow. "He would need to have quite the force indeed to seize Laon so quickly." Others nodded in agreement. Laon was one of the most important ports of the Gap's coast, certainly the most important in Grandell. Its defenses should have been more than sufficient to hold off an attacker's force long enough for them to send a host to relieve the siege, unless they'd badly underestimated the Pretender's strength.
"He didn't need to," the messenger said, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Count Leoric surrendered the port without a fight, and swore to serve the Pretender." Seeing the darkening faces of the men in front of him, he added: "Of course, I, being loyal to the True Oromis, and his Prophet, rode for here as fast as I could."
Hoping for a reward, Lafferand thought, unimpressed. "You did well," he said instead, "thanks to you, we know exactly where the Pretender is. We must set out at once and throw him back to the sea."
"Is that truly wise?" the Prophet Aedus asked, and the others hushed in an awkward silence. The Prophet's word was divine law, of course; but Aedus was no longer in his prime, and his wits had dulled with age. It was a common belief that Lafferand was the one holding the League, his competence as Chief Minister unmatched. But tensions had grown high between the two in recent years, Lafferand's favoritism and use of his position to increase his personal fortune causing Aedus to increasingly attempt to rein him in.
Attempt to rein him in; the Prophet was simply not very good at political maneuvering, and proved to be more of an irritation than anything else. Still, all the good lords around the table were sworn to serve His Holiness, so Lafferand only nodded somberly, replying: "It's the only wise course. As this traitor Count has shown, the longer the Pretender remains on our soil, the stronger he will become. We must ride out and crush him now, before his army grows greater still."
The Prophet still looked doubtful. "Battle carries its risks. Either side can carry the day."
"Only one side can win this battle," Lafferand answered. He smiled pleasantly. "With knights as valiant as ours, there is no doubt of the outcome."
"Hear hear!" some fools shouted, deaf to irony.
"He set sail with thousands, by all reports," Aedus continued, refusing to let go. "With Leoric's defection, he might have as many as ten thousand."
"We have nearly that number gathered here already," Lafferand countered, unimpressed. "Another ten thousand marches north as well, courtesy of the King of Rozarria. And we'll no doubt rally many more on our march west. We're likely to double his number, at the very least. We were planning on marching south to push back the orcs in any case; we might as well pass through the Pretender first."
"The Mardochians are rabble, your Wisdom," the grizzled commander of the garrison spoke up. "They have no true knights, nor warriors. We'll make mincemeat out of them in pitched battle."
"Perhaps," the prophet said, dithering as he always did. "Who would lead this army?"
"Your Wisdom, you should lead it yourself," the young Duke of Tridatera said boldly. "Under your direct command, the men will be inspired to fight with righteous fury!"
Aedus looked as if he'd just swallowed something unpleasant. "It would not be seemly for a man of my position to lead men into battle. Surely-"
"You speak foolishness, Tridatera," Lafferand cut in briskly, feigning outrage. "It is not the place of a man of faith to lead men into battle. There are many capable and battle-tested generals here who could crush the Pretender with ease. For His Wisdom to risk battle himself, where he could be hurt or, Oromis forbid, killed..."
Aedus shot him a look he no doubt thought was venemous. "I believe I can speak for myself, Rozarrian," the Prophet said icily. "The young duke's suggestion has merit."
"This is a rash idea, Your Wisdom. You simply cannot-"
"I am Prophet! The voice of the immortal Oromis, father of mankind, and it is not your place to tell me what I can and cannot do, Duke!" Aedus looked about as angry as Lafferand had ever seen him in his six years in Tolos; good. "I will lead the army in person, and crush this Pretender like the blasphemous vermin he is!"
"As you say, your Wisdom," Lafferand said, trying to keep his expression blank.
"If I may," the messenger asked hesitantly, still there, "my travel here was long and arduous. Will I be recompensed for my expenses?"
"The Duke Lafferand will see to your reward," the Prophet said, waving his hand in Lafferand's direction. "Speak to him later. For now, you are dismissed."
"There is also the matter of the other foreign invasion," Aedus continued once the messenger had left. "News has been trickling north from Merida, slowly but surely. By all reports, King Pelicar intends to give battle to the Orcs."
"Will the nobility follow him?" a nobleman asked. King Pelicar was infamous for his feud with the nobility of Merida: His decade long reign had seen nearly incessent rebellions and civil wars.
"Perhaps, perhaps not. I intend to make sure they do." He beckoned to one of his servants. "Boy! Bring me paper and a quill!" He turned his gaze to the lords on either side of him in turn. "I will write every single one of them if I have to, and promise them the wrath of Oromis if their feuding gives the orcs victory. Where's that damn quill?"
Hours after the meeting, Duke Lafferand rested on the parapets of the Holy Quarter, admiring the view of the polluted Tears, and the smell of shit and decay emanating from the pile of rubles they called a city. Truly, the cultural brilliance of the northerners was unmatched.
"Well, that could have gone better," Tridatera said as he came to join him.
"Could it?" Lafferand asked, cocking his head.
"You were just publicly chastised by the most holy man in the League. I don't envy your position."
Lafferand smiled mischievously. "You should. Appearances are deceiving." For half a second, he considered elaborating on that point. The young duke of Tridatera was a useful tool in the politics of the holy court, and despite his age, he showed a great deal of acumen in the game they played. He reminded Lafferand of himself when he was that age, over a decade ago. But then, that was precisely what kept him wary of the young nobleman.
"What news?" he asked instead.
"There are reports of bandits up the Tears. Nerwainese, maybe. You know how the clans are."
"No doubt they're taking advantage of the chaos for their own gain," Lafferand said, unperturbed. "Any word from the forces of the coast?" A dozen minor barons were on the march east from their castles on the coast, he knew.
"None. I doubt the bandits would be bold as to attack armed men, but..."
He nodded. "Yes, we can't rely on their aid. Even if they're left alone, with the chaos the ruffians are making, they'll be slowed, at the very least, and will arrive to late to leave with His Wisdom." How tragic. Though the reinforcements were not numerous enough to truly make a difference- perhaps two hundred altogether, and raw recruits at that- Aedus would need every sword he could get. Not that Lafferand really cared what His Wisdom needed. "It is what it is. The bandits, whoever they are, should steer clear of here, so it's not really our concern for the moment." Prodded by his paranoia, he amended: "Still, it pays to be vigilant. Tell the Commander to double the watch. I'll fund the hiring of more guardsmen if that's required. Anything else?"
"Not really. A half-blood Tolosi by the name of Dehli vanished from the dungeon, to the stupification of the guards. No sign of forced exit. They're at a loss for an explanation."
Now that was curious. "Have the guards search the cell for a hidden passageway. But discreetly." The city might very well come under siege soon: in fact, he was counting on it. If it did, the existence of such a tunnel would be all they needed to wake up one morning with their throats slit.
He was interrupted in his thought by the creaking sound of the gate opening, and the thunder of hundreds of riders departing. They would group with the main body of the host in the city, he knew, camping out in the uninhabited ruins. Then they'd make for the dockside, and cross the Tears, and no longer be his problem.
The column of knights winding its way through the gates of the Holy Quarter was awesome: emblazoned with the golden sun of Oromis, mounted atop great warhorses, they rode on, the cream of the Etruscan nobility. It was a scene taken from the songs, even down to the setting sun, the dying glow of which making the golden cloaks of the knights seem to shimmer.
Tridatera had the same thought. "They ride to glory," he said, breathless.
Lafferand snorted. "They ride to death. Dusk, not dawn." He looked back at the Camerenae. "I have to deal with the mess they're leaving behind. Stay and watch if you want."
"Speak, then, messenger," the Prophet said slowly, "deliver your message in full for all these lords to hear."
The messenger looked pale, his face devoid of color, crippled with fear at delivering news- bad news- to the most powerful men he knew existed, including His Holiness himself. "Y-yes, your Wisdom," he managed. "It's the, ah, impostor claiming to be the Holy Oromis. He's landed in Laon."
"And how did he manage that?" asked Fadric, Duke of Lafferand, raising his thick eyebrow. "He would need to have quite the force indeed to seize Laon so quickly." Others nodded in agreement. Laon was one of the most important ports of the Gap's coast, certainly the most important in Grandell. Its defenses should have been more than sufficient to hold off an attacker's force long enough for them to send a host to relieve the siege, unless they'd badly underestimated the Pretender's strength.
"He didn't need to," the messenger said, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Count Leoric surrendered the port without a fight, and swore to serve the Pretender." Seeing the darkening faces of the men in front of him, he added: "Of course, I, being loyal to the True Oromis, and his Prophet, rode for here as fast as I could."
Hoping for a reward, Lafferand thought, unimpressed. "You did well," he said instead, "thanks to you, we know exactly where the Pretender is. We must set out at once and throw him back to the sea."
"Is that truly wise?" the Prophet Aedus asked, and the others hushed in an awkward silence. The Prophet's word was divine law, of course; but Aedus was no longer in his prime, and his wits had dulled with age. It was a common belief that Lafferand was the one holding the League, his competence as Chief Minister unmatched. But tensions had grown high between the two in recent years, Lafferand's favoritism and use of his position to increase his personal fortune causing Aedus to increasingly attempt to rein him in.
Attempt to rein him in; the Prophet was simply not very good at political maneuvering, and proved to be more of an irritation than anything else. Still, all the good lords around the table were sworn to serve His Holiness, so Lafferand only nodded somberly, replying: "It's the only wise course. As this traitor Count has shown, the longer the Pretender remains on our soil, the stronger he will become. We must ride out and crush him now, before his army grows greater still."
The Prophet still looked doubtful. "Battle carries its risks. Either side can carry the day."
"Only one side can win this battle," Lafferand answered. He smiled pleasantly. "With knights as valiant as ours, there is no doubt of the outcome."
"Hear hear!" some fools shouted, deaf to irony.
"He set sail with thousands, by all reports," Aedus continued, refusing to let go. "With Leoric's defection, he might have as many as ten thousand."
"We have nearly that number gathered here already," Lafferand countered, unimpressed. "Another ten thousand marches north as well, courtesy of the King of Rozarria. And we'll no doubt rally many more on our march west. We're likely to double his number, at the very least. We were planning on marching south to push back the orcs in any case; we might as well pass through the Pretender first."
"The Mardochians are rabble, your Wisdom," the grizzled commander of the garrison spoke up. "They have no true knights, nor warriors. We'll make mincemeat out of them in pitched battle."
"Perhaps," the prophet said, dithering as he always did. "Who would lead this army?"
"Your Wisdom, you should lead it yourself," the young Duke of Tridatera said boldly. "Under your direct command, the men will be inspired to fight with righteous fury!"
Aedus looked as if he'd just swallowed something unpleasant. "It would not be seemly for a man of my position to lead men into battle. Surely-"
"You speak foolishness, Tridatera," Lafferand cut in briskly, feigning outrage. "It is not the place of a man of faith to lead men into battle. There are many capable and battle-tested generals here who could crush the Pretender with ease. For His Wisdom to risk battle himself, where he could be hurt or, Oromis forbid, killed..."
Aedus shot him a look he no doubt thought was venemous. "I believe I can speak for myself, Rozarrian," the Prophet said icily. "The young duke's suggestion has merit."
"This is a rash idea, Your Wisdom. You simply cannot-"
"I am Prophet! The voice of the immortal Oromis, father of mankind, and it is not your place to tell me what I can and cannot do, Duke!" Aedus looked about as angry as Lafferand had ever seen him in his six years in Tolos; good. "I will lead the army in person, and crush this Pretender like the blasphemous vermin he is!"
"As you say, your Wisdom," Lafferand said, trying to keep his expression blank.
"If I may," the messenger asked hesitantly, still there, "my travel here was long and arduous. Will I be recompensed for my expenses?"
"The Duke Lafferand will see to your reward," the Prophet said, waving his hand in Lafferand's direction. "Speak to him later. For now, you are dismissed."
"There is also the matter of the other foreign invasion," Aedus continued once the messenger had left. "News has been trickling north from Merida, slowly but surely. By all reports, King Pelicar intends to give battle to the Orcs."
"Will the nobility follow him?" a nobleman asked. King Pelicar was infamous for his feud with the nobility of Merida: His decade long reign had seen nearly incessent rebellions and civil wars.
"Perhaps, perhaps not. I intend to make sure they do." He beckoned to one of his servants. "Boy! Bring me paper and a quill!" He turned his gaze to the lords on either side of him in turn. "I will write every single one of them if I have to, and promise them the wrath of Oromis if their feuding gives the orcs victory. Where's that damn quill?"
* * * * * *
Hours after the meeting, Duke Lafferand rested on the parapets of the Holy Quarter, admiring the view of the polluted Tears, and the smell of shit and decay emanating from the pile of rubles they called a city. Truly, the cultural brilliance of the northerners was unmatched.
"Well, that could have gone better," Tridatera said as he came to join him.
"Could it?" Lafferand asked, cocking his head.
"You were just publicly chastised by the most holy man in the League. I don't envy your position."
Lafferand smiled mischievously. "You should. Appearances are deceiving." For half a second, he considered elaborating on that point. The young duke of Tridatera was a useful tool in the politics of the holy court, and despite his age, he showed a great deal of acumen in the game they played. He reminded Lafferand of himself when he was that age, over a decade ago. But then, that was precisely what kept him wary of the young nobleman.
"What news?" he asked instead.
"There are reports of bandits up the Tears. Nerwainese, maybe. You know how the clans are."
"No doubt they're taking advantage of the chaos for their own gain," Lafferand said, unperturbed. "Any word from the forces of the coast?" A dozen minor barons were on the march east from their castles on the coast, he knew.
"None. I doubt the bandits would be bold as to attack armed men, but..."
He nodded. "Yes, we can't rely on their aid. Even if they're left alone, with the chaos the ruffians are making, they'll be slowed, at the very least, and will arrive to late to leave with His Wisdom." How tragic. Though the reinforcements were not numerous enough to truly make a difference- perhaps two hundred altogether, and raw recruits at that- Aedus would need every sword he could get. Not that Lafferand really cared what His Wisdom needed. "It is what it is. The bandits, whoever they are, should steer clear of here, so it's not really our concern for the moment." Prodded by his paranoia, he amended: "Still, it pays to be vigilant. Tell the Commander to double the watch. I'll fund the hiring of more guardsmen if that's required. Anything else?"
"Not really. A half-blood Tolosi by the name of Dehli vanished from the dungeon, to the stupification of the guards. No sign of forced exit. They're at a loss for an explanation."
Now that was curious. "Have the guards search the cell for a hidden passageway. But discreetly." The city might very well come under siege soon: in fact, he was counting on it. If it did, the existence of such a tunnel would be all they needed to wake up one morning with their throats slit.
He was interrupted in his thought by the creaking sound of the gate opening, and the thunder of hundreds of riders departing. They would group with the main body of the host in the city, he knew, camping out in the uninhabited ruins. Then they'd make for the dockside, and cross the Tears, and no longer be his problem.
The column of knights winding its way through the gates of the Holy Quarter was awesome: emblazoned with the golden sun of Oromis, mounted atop great warhorses, they rode on, the cream of the Etruscan nobility. It was a scene taken from the songs, even down to the setting sun, the dying glow of which making the golden cloaks of the knights seem to shimmer.
Tridatera had the same thought. "They ride to glory," he said, breathless.
Lafferand snorted. "They ride to death. Dusk, not dawn." He looked back at the Camerenae. "I have to deal with the mess they're leaving behind. Stay and watch if you want."
Some visual aids that might be of use:
<Snipped quote by Vahir>
Oh, I thought that in your writeup on the city of Tolos said this:
"Despite this, the Tolosi Emperors proved both wise and merciful, not only sparing the elves, but assimilating them into the Empire as administrators, priests, and generals. A duality of power emerged, where the high nobility and the Emperor himself were human, and the elves served them and the Empire as nobles."
but because the Etruscans took over, they changed that in the city itself?
Sorry for the mistakes!!
Ah, I see the error; I should have been more clear. That was the Tolosi Empire, back in its hayday, when it ruled everything. When Oromis happened, the League split off in the west, motivated in no small part due to contempt for elves, and the Prophets have continued the whole "Humanity fuck yeah" thing.
If it helps, imagine that the Romans were ruled by a cabal of elves. When the germans invaded the west and set up their kingdoms in italy, they gave the elves the boot too. So the Roman Empire in the east would still be ruled by elves, while the kingdoms of Italy (Including Rome) would hate elves.
Damn, but that was the weirdest paragraph I've written in a while.
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