Fantasy Nations RP

[Milamber]

Location: Luscia, Capital of the Vasa Ascendency

Buried beneath the Throne room, the Eights training facility lay empty. Designed to replicate the scale of the throne room, the facility possessed a dual purpose. The first was to allow a space for the Eight to train and experiment; the second was to act as an escape route for the Emperor should the fortress come under siege. Several passages connected the faculty to the Emperors Throne room, the first lay behind the Emperors throne opening a private staircase. The next was well known to all members of the Eight, integrated into the pillars of the Throne room a small platform lay at the base which could be used to ascend to the throne room in a state of emergency.

Acting as the last stand against a final assault, Miranda had made preparations for the force to gather instantaneously should such an occurrence arise. The formation began with Samir and Giland covering the throne room door, while the remaining pairs would be forced to engage one after the other as his Majesty descended below. From there a final retreat would be enacted, in which the Special Council would escort the Emperor to safety using sealed passages in the floor below, returning only when victory was guaranteed.

Despite the necessity of such a room its original grandeur was lacking as of late. With Luscar actively retaking more territory, the Eight’s presence outside the Ascendency’s borders had become a necessity. As a result the faculties’ condition deteriorated over time, scorch markings stained the ceiling, while indentations had been etched into the walls from Izlude’s sparring sessions.

As Garth made the final adjustments to his sketches, he began adding additional notes as Kulgan and a couple of his acolytes attempted to exploit any surface weaknesses of Samirs barriers. Covering a radius of ten meters, the barrage of spells instantly dispelled on impact, those that impacted the surface simply bounced back at the casters. Samir stood firm in the centre of the room, maintaining his position with ease, the key was to find a barrier that could be easily replicated by any Ward regardless of skill and training.

Garth arouse from a table as the test came to its predicted conclusion. “It seems to be pretty clear, despite repetition and taking Samir’s skill into account the simplest barriers to conjure by design appears to be a three dimensional bubble or cube.” Kulgan’s acolytes lowered their hands returning to their tutors’ side, locking eyes with the engineer, Kulgan scowled at the idiocy of the statement. “Any decent magic user could have identified that!” he spat sharply “Can or can you not create a device to project the same shape?”

Glazing over the remark, Garth responded with the tact Samir had come to expect. “We have to be certain Malachi, or have you forgotten the task at hand? Surely you have not forgotten that we agreed? Relying solely on Wards to conjure such a barrier at the scale required is foolishness. I can do what you ask, but I require something more concrete before I proceed to develop any form of prototype. I assume you brought the materials with you.”

Kulgan hissed as he glided towards the desk; after searching his robes he placed a small bag onto the table. Sensing the animosity between the two, Samir took his chance to intercede mid conversation returning the focus to the task at hand. “What did you have in mind Professor?”

At the moment of hearing a member of Eight address him as such, Kulgan’s composure lightened, somewhat encouraged that the generation was still willing to learn from the past he broke a crooked smile. “A potential alternative”, revealing the contents of the small bag, Kulgan held up a Crystal orb fitting in the palm of one hand and a tiny gem in another. “A Catalyst, typical of most enhancements magical energy can be implanted into weapons or armour, this can resonate with the user and have varying outcomes. We will attempt to take this same principle and push the boundaries further still.”

Tying what Samir believed to be an unusual piece of string from the orb to the gem, Garth concluded the Professors train of thought as he made the preparations. “In short, the gem was originally apart of the orb. In theory by implanting your Ward magic into the gem, it should flow through this wiring and create the shape you initially want to project. Our trade relations with Mythor has provided the Empire with many valuable pieces such as this. While expensive, our own ability to recreate this product has ended in high failure rate, making ever piece extremely valuable. If their academia is up to the same standard the orb will create a small barrier about double its size, protecting anything within its area.” Placing a cup beside the Crystal orb, Kulgan handed the gem to Samir looking into his eyes with expectation. Darting back at the two, Samir remained unconvinced “It seems odd that such a basic principle has not been explored before.”

“Oh it has” Garth interrupted “just not applied in the same way.” Nodding in agreement Professor Kulgan piped up “Absolutely! However, the study of Wards and their abilities doesn’t possess much interest from inner circles, something we hope to change. But hush now...and focus.”

Despite his mood darkening momentarily at the remark, Samir closed his eyes and concentrated.

Tag: Tirin (For Results)

 

[Tirin]

Location: Luscia

Yochanan greeted Luscar and Miranda with the same grotesque grin and bow he had Izlude and Giland, though was mercifully silent as he did so, choosing instead to listen in silence to Miranda's commands. If he found any problem with them, or any loophole to exploit, he didn't say so. It was only when the First finished her list of commands that he nodded his assent, then bowed a second time. The door closed gently a moment before the image left in his wake faded away, the creature taking his leave to rest, or terrorize some unfortunate prisoner, or whatever it was he did in his spare time. Frankly, it wasn't the sort of thing that bore thinking about.

The Emperor nodded respectfully to Miranda and stood. "I would appreciate it. Meeting dismissed. You're quite welcome to have a look into the demonstration in the training room," He said as he left the chamber, giving Miranda ample time to seal the entrance via the Rune Prison.

Izlude didn't answer Giland until he was a ways away from the Council chamber, taking a seat wherever was convenient as he did. "The delivery is an artifact, and it's to be delivered from Forestwood. You're not doing anything in Galadon next, so what's being done isn't really your concern, but if you want to ask Miranda or Luscar I won't stop you. As for preparations, find yourself a nice blade, maybe a good suit of armor, and get to the training grounds. Your magic'll come in handy, but we can't be sure how long."

TAG: Easy

Location: Verthill

For all of his bravado and skill with a weapon, Backbreaker was delighted to find that the heavily-armored human was a much worse brawler than he was a warrior, and pressed his advantages as best he could. With the Baron's throat locked into the orc's powerful grip, he began to slowly crush the life out of the man, seeming to regard the kicks to his broken arm as nothing more than a distraction and incentive to squeeze harder. It was only when Galiatus cried for him to yield that Backbreaker dimly remembered it would be inconvenient if he killed the Baron, and so kicked the man's discarded hammer away before tossing him onto the ground with a growl, glowering down at him. He didn't move his feet an inch, very much relishing his victory, and silently dedicating it to the Great Mammoth. He did, however, make a dismissive motion with his good hand, and it didn't take a genius to figure out he wanted Third Root informed of his success.

TAG: Easy, Stoney

 

[Easy]

Location: Luscia

As Miranda sealed the Rune Prison and made appropriate arrangements with the Royal Shipmaster, Giland abandoned his further lines of questioning with a nod and hurried off to procure his equipment from the Eight's own armory, to the side of the training-room, which was well stocked with fine equipment but saw little use all the same. Most of the Eight were mages, by profession, and their material needs were almost always fulfilled by what their pockets could carry. Of the two suits tall and thin enough to accommodate his build, Giland chose the shinier of them, trimmed with rich scarlet cloth, as he always did. It gleamed at the feathered joints, subtly complimented by the simple but well-polished cowl atop, and he looked rather silly simply standing around wearing it as he waited for Izlude in the chamber, dull metal practice-blade at his side. His excitement at finally receiving private tutelage from Izlude Radgeist himself had worn down quickly when he saw Samir O'Toole - the only other of the Eight that could match and even beat him - in the room, then sprung to life again when he saw that Samir was engaged in something else entirely, and then cooled off into a seething, rising anger over time as Izlude still failed to show up. He had been deceived, dismissed, disrespected... he had been insulted most grievously. He ground his teeth and plotted revenge in his mind as he practiced drills and motions, over and over, maybe something where he impersonated Yochanan for a time. The image of what the man had done to Yochanan at their last meeting tempered that train of thought, but the stabs and slashes of his blade served less to wash away his annoyance than to gently fan the flames, and he paid no notice to the tiring of his arm or the passage of his time, and was still at it when Miranda arrived.

"Well met, Sir Samir! Well met, Giland!" She called, evidently just as a formality, as she turned immediately along the wall just by the side of the entrance. Twenty lock-boxes lined the wall there, mostly unused of course, and she used her own key to open the one inscribed 'Lazarus Udredge'. The lock-boxes, rather than containing anything of particular personal value, were the primary means by which the Eight might be assembled here in the event of an emergency. Each one was large enough to hold whatever important letters were left for them in absentia, (though Lazarus's had just been cleared of those upon his return), and a shelf receding into the side that contained one circular indentation; beside it, two empty-socketed gold rings and two small, matching gems: one turquoise stone, one ruby. Now, she fitted the turquoise into the ring with some effort, for it fit only tightly into the metal, and placed it into the indented circle. A moment later, it disappeared, and Lazarus would see it on his finger soon if he hadn't noticed it already.

The turquoise itself was quite ordinary, as befitting such an ignoble gem, but the ruby and the rings were all made of much more interesting stuff. The rings were tediously crafted, and matched to each individual at the time of forging, whereas the rubies were each matched both to the rings and to particular locations near the entrance of the room (with care not to overlap the areas). Receiving a ring with a turquoise was simply a summons, a call to return to one's lock-box at the nearest convenience. Receiving a ring with a ruby meant that all present business was to be put on hold, and would have to be, because the wearer would find themselves standing in the training-room within the next few seconds. Lazarus had not seen fit to share what his affairs in the capital were, and Miranda did not see fit to interrupt, so she simply left an envelope with his orders inside the lock-box once the ring had disappeared. Only then did she take note of Samir's experiment, and the other two with him.

As Miranda watched, interested, the young man held a gem and concentrated. A glow and a slight hiss emanated from and down a string tied around it, then to an orb in his other hand, and a subtle magical field projected from the orb's surface and slowly expanded. His hands seemed to shake more as it grew, and the hissing grew louder, until suddenly the string started vibrating with a movement of its own, as though some invisible hand were plucking a deep, loud note from it. Suddenly it whipped loose from the gem, lashed at the air, and then fell limp. The field around the orb remained at about double its original width for a second or so, then receded back into the object just as slowly and steadily as it had first appeared.

"The shape," Miranda called out, approaching. "Shape the conduit, the gem, to the receptor - make it spherical as well. Re-forming the field at the other end causes initial resistance, which takes time to transmit back to you through the wire, causing another pulse from your end that amplifies at the orb, and eventually builds wave-forms too large to control. And the wire-" she pinched it between thumb and forefinger, and examined the loop at the end. "Better transmittance through gold fiber, if you can buy it, or electrum, or silk-and-silver perhaps. Hollowed glass-pipe would work even better, especially good crystal, but I assume you'll be developing much larger devices than that could accommodate." She handed the thread back to Samir, and turned to the Professor with a nod of acknowledgement.

"Professor Kulgan, I take it." She extended a hand. "Miranda Zasolez. I was informed that you would be here; welcome to the Special Training Chamber. I was intrigued by your writings on the field of thaumatic barrier optimization. If you're still in the Capital a week from tomorrow, when I return from abroad, I should very much enjoy the chance to discuss it with you."

TAG: Mostly Milamber, possibly Tirin.


Location: Verthill

The Baron made no designs on his weapon as he fell, but rolled to one side with much gasping and coughing, and used the other hand to loose and throw aside his helmet. Even by the moonlight, it was easy to see the blood just returning to that large, stubble-ridden face, and the deep bruises forming around his neck in the shape of clenched fingers. Then his supporting arm gave out from weakness, and he again went strewn-out on his back atop the cobblestones.

"Damn." Resnak and Sigius, along with whatever curious guards and civilians remained inside the keep, had been watching from a distance, through the windows of the tower. "Think he would have won if he'd held on to that hammer?"

"Does it matter?" Sigius shook his head. "He'd have to be somebody else - Gali would never have kept the hammer. And I don't think anybody else could have beaten that creature. Orcs would've killed him anyway, if he had."

They watched the orcs rejoice a while longer then, one by one, began shuffling silently back inside. It was probably going to be a long night.

TAG: Mayor Tirin, Stoney.

 

[Milamber]

Location: Luscia

The Professor beamed with admiration, the First’s achievements continue to be a common topic throughout the Academy, her scholarly prowess and critical eye were evident. With a simple glance she managed to break down the experiment, analyze it and provide recommendations. Recognition no matter how small was encouraging for Kulgan especially at his age. Accepting Zasolez hand, Kulgan provided a respectful greeting and tipped his head slightly. “An honour to meet you Ms Zasolez, your publication on “The Modification of the Targeted Spatial Value” remains a heated topic for many researchers within the Academy and an inspiration for our younger students. I appear to be most fortunate; I’ll be continuing to work with Sir Samir and Benor for some time it seems and will remain in the Capital until it is concluded. It would be a pleasure to discuss my writings with you once you return.”

Surprised and somewhat embarrassed to fail in front of his peers, Samir made note of Miranda’s suggestions “A keen eye as always, we will make the necessary changes to stabilise the connection and continue progression from there.” Making a subtle gesture, Garth understood and delicately placed the items into the bag, returning them to the Professor. “We have much to do Kulgan,” reluctant to question, Kulgan made his pardons “A pleasure Ms Zasolez, Sir Giland” the duo moved to a table further back in the room leaving their betters in peace.

“It’s good to see you both; did your travels not fare well? It’s a little odd for you to be leaving again so soon.” Darting his eyes between the two, Samir hoped he could catch a tell to indicate how their performance had gone, while Miranda seemed calm and collected as usual, Giland appeared to be more irritated than normal.”

Tag: Easy, Tirin

 

[Chlegyr]

Root could hear the clamor of a war band celebrating in victory, and could not help but smirk. In front of him, the knight captured earlier was struggling with some very powerful hallucinations that would likely challenge the poor man's beliefs and superstitions, not helped by the fact that Orcs were already erecting a small altar to The Great Mastodon within the confines of the town square and had begun to offer tribute to the Spirits in thanks of their victories. Food and weapons and armor were placed upon a fetish hastily constructed into the likeness of a Mammoth, using hides and various tusks the warriors had brought with them in perhaps impetuous anticipation of their inevitable victory. These offerings were to the Spirits, and the Mammoth that guided them down the paths of life. Plants and dirt were placed on the opposite side of the huge table liberated from a guild office which had had it's oaken legs halved in length and placed in front of the statue. For all give was meted with take, a life taken must be repaid in time. A people who lived in the sparse plains and forests whose vegetation collapsed and whose animals disappeared if grazed or hunted upon even slightly more than absolutely necessary understood the necessity for balance, their spirits would not be appeased with mindless, wanton slaughter.

Around this statue were various tribal symbols particular to warriors and tribes, sometimes depicting an animal or a likeness of an ancestor whom they believed to be the representation of whatever specific wild spirit or ancestor protected them. Once placed, warriors would offer their own prayers and sacrifices to appease the spirits, or grant them a place of power with which to anchor themselves to in this strange and new land.

A blind eyed Orcish shaman in dark robes, and a wooden mask carved into that of a deer with which real antlers were set into and endowed in countless small bones which clattered and howled with every movement due to small holes within them. Cold and bitter winds roused themselves into a whispering as he stood with his back to the bonfire, constructed from shattered palisades and other detritus from around the battlefield. As was carved into the bones and his very skin, the Orcish glyphs and runes which constituted the closest thing to a written language anywhere within the confines of the lands claimed by the Orcs, and used almost exclusively by shamans as a means to continue the oral tradition of legends or heroes and particular prayers used to invoke the power of the ancestors. As if it was needed, the old orc knew the dirge like refrain of the prayer as if it were carved into the inside of his skull itself.

"Oh Father of the Earth and Sky, who treads with care upon the world like a breath upon a cloud and a shadow upon the plains!"

The vivid amber cast a wild and ethereal shadow amongst the carvings and the fur of the massive mammoth itself. The shadows seemed to dance around the orcish figures, the Shaman himself becoming a kind of janky, dancing ghost moving with an impossible quickness and jerkiness, moving around the fire and casting a long shadow on whatever surface he faced against. The flute like bones of his vestments and his antlers began their shrill calls, as other shamans and warriors began to take their place around the fire.

"Forgive us! We fight only so our calves may live! Though we know our victory was guided by your will!
Protect us from our enemies! Allow this victory to satisfy our ancestors, who watch us like a Bull over his herd!"

The shadows seemed to come alive, warped and elongated mirrors of the beings who danced around the fire, and indeed, that was what the Orcs believed. Dark and evil beings who resided in the shadows and devoured wayward souls in battle were honored by this act. By invoking the protection of the Mastodon, they might be kept at bay to allow safe passage for the souls of the fallen to pass into the afterlife.

Root marched slowly through the darkened streets, earning nods of appreciation from the soldiers who moved to prepare the place for a night's camping as well as prepare provisions for the captured human civilians to spend the night in the cold, or to join the prayers. The humans were defeated, and there was neither honor or profit to be gained from brutalizing and mistreating those unable and unwilling to fight.

The orcs, though violent and savage in their fury when attacking, bizarrely and alarmingly disarmed their demeanor, moving from cheering and looting to moving the bodies into a position nearby to the square. Humans laid out alongside their much larger Orcish counterparts and allowed to remain in whatever garments they had died in. Relatives from the human camp were allowed to go over and identify any loved ones who may have been on patrol when the attack happened, with captured soldiers disarmed and lead to the rest of the civilians to find their families.

Walking to where Backbreaker had defeated the Baron, he noted with great appreciation that he had been defeated hand to hand, an honorable victory in Orcish tradition. Backbreaker now nursing a broken arm seemed lucky to be getting away with only those injuries, considering the fallen corpses of other Orcish warriors which adorned the path from the front of the fort like rotten fruit fallen from a tree.

"You have done well, warrior. You do your ancestors and your tribe a great service." He rasped, mostly genuinely to the warrior, as he motioned hangers on to try and drag the unconscious brute back down to the camp and the fire.

"Perhaps you take his weapon? The sword? Learn how to fight like soldier instead of wild giant?"

 

[Zapy97]

Current Location: Harbor of Meermundberg, Oberland's Flagship "Siegreichen Adler"
Characters: Altera
Altera read here new orders in her Cabin, as she did this she took apprehensive glances at her "cargo". She looked at her orders one final time which stated: "You are too hunt for pirates within the Verschluss sea and probe the wrecks of the ships in search of magical artifacts and mages. The device outfitted on your ship will be able to detect the energies radiating off of living mages, magical creatures and artifacts. This artifact will glow when within about three-hundred to one-hundred feet of the the source of the energy. The glow will intensify based on the energy sources' power and its perceived threat based on the perceptions of our dragon predecessors. Any damage such as a limb of the figure being broken off the artifact will no longer function. The location of the origin or type of the magical item will determine the color of the glow, the draconians were smart you see. They knew things we no longer know, they knew how to reinforce stone to resist weathering and how to make a receiver which gets charged by the nearby energies which magic seems to radiate. As stated in the 'Draconian Chronicles' the statues feed off of the magic around them, which would explain why the statues from the West Oberland Republic work better than the East Oberland Republic. From the source of the Draconian Chronicles and pre-behodrung era experiments. The list of glows and meanings are as follows: white glows; Draconian Magics and Draconians: blood-red glows; Demonic magic and Demons: orange-red glows; Fire magics and mages: blue glows; water magic: green brown glows; earth magics and mages: yellow glows; Vrykals and galadonian magic: purple glows; for highlander and Behodrung magics and people augmented by it. Other colors have either been lost or not encountered in previous experiments, these anomalies should be reported for a pending investigation. Remember you are not to destroy the cargo or artifacts, you must do your best to capture it so that we can develop counters to the weapons of our enemies and pirates. The whole idea is to keep pirates at bay, there has been a rise in pirated shipping within the sea. Eradicate the issue and capture the weapons of our enemies. Signed and approved by EOEHK Alexander Corsan VIII. Altera knew that Corsan had been concerned about the viability of steam mechanized warfare against the power of magic wielding foes. She immediately sent for the fleet to depart from Meermundberg.
Tags: Pirates

Current Location: Gamladar, Galadon
Characters: Oskar, Rupert
Oskar pushed the wheel barrow which held the Behodrung scum who was tied up. He had purchased the in signpost because dragging a person by their only leg was not as socially acceptable as one would think. As Oskar pushed the wheelbarrow which was made in the Oberland at a low price. Oskar did his best to ignore some of the more penetrating stares this was somewhat normal for him to get stares but not this many as this was normal stop for him in Galadon. Oskar set the wheelbarrow down and helped the somewhat starved and thirsty prisoner out of the chariot of extreme luxury compared to his original plan. The trip was of course extremely unpleasant due to Oskar's tendency to purposefully hit every bump and use his super human strength and speed to cause bumps to almost make Rupert fall out of the wheelbarrow. Rupert being very saddle sore as he had thought yet he had never ridden a horse in his life, let alone a wheelbarrow pushed by a revenge hungry super soldier. Oskar handed Rupert a branch which Oskar plucked from a tree for Rupert to use as walking stick. While Rupert was somewhat thankful for the branch it did not help him much in terms of mobility. Oskar having Rupert tied around the wrists led him to the town hall to have him be held and fed while Oskar got himself some essential life preserving food at the Prancing pony. The food that would most likely be of an above average quality. Oskar hoped at least that he could get some food even if he had to keep Rupert pressed down with his foot.
Tag: Anyone really

Current Location: Corseinburg, Die Reichberg
Characters: Corsan VIII, Tassarden
The meeting room was in a bustle as top generals and military engineers began packing up folders and files of designs gone over during the meeting. Notpat the General in charge of the panzerkorps who had been complaining about the lack of horse power from the steam engines finally got the go ahead to have the Chemiker-korps begin looking into new forms of fuel especially whale. Since the meeting in the office was over, the Officers attending the meeting had about two hours until the showcase of each prototype. Corsan VIII being quite eager due to his love the internal mechanics, rushed in the most Kingly of matters out of the meeting room down flights and flights of stairs, out the Reichberg's door. Tassarden a west oberlander sat on his proof of concept steam powered motorcycle, which got him laughed over the border. Seeing Corsan stop dead in his tracks at the never before seen contraption with its inventor perched on it. Tassarden being eager to see the Kaiser immediately jumped to his feet introducing himself as quickly as the formal greeting of the Oberland would allow. Corsan being completely fascinated by the outlandish design by his standards replied as calmly as possible after stabilizing his pickelhaulbe, "How do you do." Corsan shook the hand of the short inventor, at which point the inventor did his best to pitch the idea of the transportation contraption. Corsan who wanted to see it humming the minute he saw it regained his total composure and immediately called a munitions Steam-truck which was empty to pull over and pick up the device and take it and its inventor to the Loossandrian Test range which was the center of panzer research in the E.O.E. Tassarden some what disappointed at not being allowed to ride the Motorcycle to the test was glad that he at least got to be with it on the trip over. Corsan watching the machine be loaded into the munition-wagen immediately went to his carriage which was parked nearby its guards who were smoking cigars. Corsan of course called these men to attention and boarded his carriage and departed followed by the munition-wagen.
Tags: Anyone.

 

[Easy]

Location: Verthill


As the soldiers inside the hold made preparations for both surprise attacks and a long and bitter siege, the prisoners tied together in the cold night air outside at least did not lack for spectacle, let alone company. They looked on speechlessly as their Baron, sparks jumping from his armor where it scraped the cobblestones, was dragged over to where a wounded knight, half-naked and delirious, raved madly at some invisible foe.


“Our world?” He hissed, at the malicious visions. “You don’t want our world, demons. You just want the spoils, whatever you can rob and steal of it. In our world thieves are punished, not glorified. The Duke beyond these walls holds a dozen such castles at his command, and upholds the law with a dozen times the men – a knight for every one of your bandits, and three footmen for every knight. They will bring you your reward.” He spat. “Leave now, and some of you may yet survive the winter.”


TAG: Stoney


Location: Luscia, in the Special Training Chamber

“In fact, the mission went quite well. Almost perfectly.” Miranda answered, which calmed Giland almost visibly. “Giland’s performance, as I told the Emperor, was most commendable. With that concluded, I now go to Galadon in a diplomatic capacity, and he stays to assist Sir Izlude with another matter.” She turned to Giland. “He has not yet tasked you with anything, then?”


“Yeah, he told me what we’d be doing. Told me he’d meet me here for training, too, for all I can count on that.” He answered darkly. Miranda frowned at his tone. “He truly said he would be here, or you merely assumed it?”


“Does it matter?” Giland countered. “You know that I know that you don’t need words to tell a lie. I am one of the Eight; my time is not to be wasted carelessly, even by him. It was an ungracious offense, and unwarranted.”


“Peace, man.” Miranda counseled. “I know that you know that men often behave thoughtlessly when their tempers are high. I am at fault, for I caused him to endure Yochanan today. In the meantime, perhaps you could ask Sir Samir to assist with your training, if he has the time. Now, I must go to my preparations. Farewell to you both.” She bowed slightly to each in turn, and then left back the way she first came.


TAG: Milamber

 

[Milamber]

Bowing respectfully to his mentor, Samir spoke softly, bidding his teacher farewell. “Be safe, Miranda.” Exiting the room the way she came, Samir was left alone with young Giland whose face remained scowling after the apparent rejection from The Second. Feeling somewhat responsible, the Seventh grabbed two sparring swords and threw one to his comrade at arms while his two specialists continued their experiments further across the room.

“Miranda is not solely at fault Giland, I’ve taken much of Izlude’s time as of late. You’ve probably noticed it yourself; the Eight has been actively dispersed throughout the Empire and across the borders. Luscar is in need for additional agents, a small batch has already been selected but Izlude’s contribution will be fundamental into forming the form but the strain of his role and the presence of Yochanan appears to be taking its toll.”

Readying his blade, Samir waited for Giland to take his stance. “For now, I’ll be your opponent. Same rules as usual...now come!”

 

[Tirin]

Location: Luscia

Perhaps ten minutes passed before Lazarus entered the Eight's training room, unkempt hair and robes hinting that he had only recently left bed (which, one way or another, was quite probably the case). He rather casually strolled past Kulgan and Garth, far from personally interested in whatever they were doing, but did give a glance to Samir and Giland as they - it seemed - prepared to train against one another. The two were both better swordsmen than he (if not by much, in his eyes), and after rifling through his orders and depositing his ring, he settled in to carefully watch their movements. Perhaps between the two of them, he would observe something new to test later; if not, he would seek his pleasures in much the same way as he had before being called to the palace.

TAG: Easy/Milamber

Location: Verthill

Having defeated his foe, Backbreaker said a quiet prayer to the Mammoth before retreating a ways, to lean back against the walls of the city - though still, of course, in sight of the Baron. Knowing that he would only make it worse by doing so, the orc did not attempt to tend to his arm, instead concentrating on keeping it from moving as he waited for Third Root to come to him - it was doubtless that the shaman would eventually, and would also be better-suited to dealing with the injury than most anyone else. The warchief chafed slightly at the implication that his fighting lacked skill, but knew that it was true to some degree; had Galiatus kept a hold of his warhammer, his victory would have been far less likely (and much more hard-fought if he attained it). "Thank you, old one. I will take his sword, though how could I learn to fight like a soldier with none to train me?" He rumbled, his helmet doing a poor job of masking indignance. "Now please, I ask you to heal my arm. If I cannot use it, I will only be as strong as five softskins."

TAG: Stoney

 

[Zapy97]

Current Location: Serenn, Galmar Street, "Johannes' Fine Cigar Emporium"
Characters: Johanne Schmidt and crew
Having successfully "purchased" the shop from a couple in Serenn and sent them on a vacation thus allowing for the set up of a base of operations. The cigar shop now open for business making for a perfect and stereotypically Oberlandish cover for his mission. Johanne making as many connections and contacts in the shortest amount of time possible through either persuasion or out right total mind control to establish a thought in peoples mind then only to release them confused and thinking what he wanted them to think. Johanne had set up the store just exactly how he wanted it, a compact and efficiently spaced room which had a counter which was of course overly organized, neat and tidy. Behind the counter which followed the wall with about a yard of separation. The counter which had three parts: One on the left which contained cigars from Großeflachekrug, one on the center barring the passage way to the back of the store which contained cigars made in Hügelblitz, and finally one containing cigars from Standbildburg on the right of the doorway in. The shop being two stories tall and with a small cellar containing the newfangled cigar emporium's precious supply of beer and oberlandish foods such as chocolates sweetened with oberlandish sugars. Johanne of course had a few rules when it came to his employees first and foremost no fighting during business hours, no using the merchandise for personal gain or as gifts to "pretty local laddies", Johanne gets priority on the last bit of chocolate and finally no swearing out customers in oberlandish, or any yelling at all. The shop being all set up in a matter of a very short time, Johanne wearing a shop apron standing in the shop window. Johanne flipped closed sign so that it read "Open" in both Eximian and Oberlandish to the people on the street. Johanne walked to the back counter and waited for his first customers.
Tags: Tirin

Current Location: Loosandrian Test Range, Mobility Track
Characters: Alexander VIII, Tassarden, Oberland's Top Military engineers, And Panzerkorp Commanders
Alexander looked at the row of panzer which was neat, of the designs there was the Steampanzer one which had been augmented by Alexander in his free time and was tuned to its maximum performance, the next one was based off of the Steampanzer one and had a larger engine with almost the same amount of armor and larger puckle gun, the next Steampanzer had totally different design concepts making it longer than the Steampanzer ones with a similar sized cannon. Next to the Steampanzer concepts were a few designs of gun carriages with the large cannons from the Sicherheit line, one of which had an interior mounted cannon which could only be swung twenty degrees left or right, the next one had the cannon mounted on top of the carriage with steam drive to turn and aim the cannon with a crew platform to load the cannon and finally there was a large tracked behemoth Steampanzer which had one of the largest cannons from the Sicherheit line mounted in a large boxy turret, armor to thin to stop a rifle ball from most ranges, a gargantuan boiler and room in the turret for plenty of ammo. Alexander was immediately drawn to the final steampanzer at first glance he was amazed at its sheer size. Of course Alexander hadn't realized its size until now, which he looked at the area where the officers were gathering for the tests of mobility to begin. Tassarden was standing off to his side fine tuning his motorcycle.

Alexander called for the officers to take their seats so that the tests may begin, which consisted of the Steampanzer going around the track five times which would take it across a wide variety of terrain and once with Alexander on board. First came Steampanzer one ausf.B which went across the track with an average speed of six Kph at some points reaching eight Kph. Then came the Steampanzer two ausf.A which moved at similar speeds but sank into mud at some points. Next the GrosseDampftraktor which went got a whole ten Kph and then it had to turn, which caused it to stop dead in its tracks and stall for a minute and then continue the process of speeding up, halting to turn, stalling and recouping to continue. Then came the Kannone Kasten which the first one having the extra armor to protect the gun crew moved at a crawling four Kph and stalled on turns. The Kannone Raupen which moved at a respectably six Kph consistently through the course except in the muddied section. Then finally the Mammutpanzer Ausf.D rolled across tarmac onto the course at four Kph, upon getting the on course slowing to three Kph, until it hit a turn where it showed off the unique ability to independently move each track to speed up the still massively slow turn rate. After slogging through the mud and stalling at some points at one Kph finally reaching the end of the course, at which point it broke down.

Tassaden having seen the entire course mounted his "motorcycle" prepared to go until Alexander halted him. Alexander called out a dragoon on his horse. Alexander began "You want to prove your concept, you will have to beat my dragoon's trot." Tassarden replied in a cocky manner, "Simple". Tassarden and the Dragoon both got on the starting line, Alexander pulled his revolver and fired into the air. The horse stood on to legs beginning in a gallop before slowing to a trot only to be passed by Tassarden until the turn when the horse passed him again. The "motorcycle" moving faster than the horses' trot on the hard dirt slowed on mud and turns which led to the horse being just behind Tassarden by the finish line. Alexander congratulating Tassarden walks over to him and says, "impressive, consider yourself hired. Now out of the way I want ride it." Tassarden caught off guard steps aside which allows Alexander to mount the metal beast. Tassarden runs Alexander through all the controls, at which point Alexander to much surprise of himself and to most of the people there takes off down the course, using what he learned from riding normal bicycles to turn and maneuver. Alexander enjoying himself until he ran out of coal which didn't take long finally rolled up to Tassarden and said "I want one of these myself. That is your first job." Alexander getting off the bike walked back over to the officers in preparation for weapon tests of the new panzers.
Tags: Anyone really.

 

[Chlegyr]

Verthill;

The prisoners, captured guards and the barely conscious Holnius were treated to the sight of a roaring bonfire, magnificent in scale and almost unbearably radiant in heat. How the shamans tolerated the furnace with their faces practically buried in the rolling sheets of crimson and amber flame defied both sense and reason, yet they seemed none the worse for it. The Spirits it seems; an Orc would say (and they do), are protecting them and communing through the heart of the fire. Barely audible over the dull roar and the crackling of damp logs, are whispers none of the humans can choose to listen to for very long. None except poor Holnius. He had an excess of things to listen to.

High above, Root looked up high at the castle, seeing some of the last braver men holding around to witness the sights. He stamped his frostbitten staff once on the hard ground, and called out to the men in that broken southern tongue of his. Much louder than he had any right to have been able to...

"Passage... Free to Men... and Family. Surrender. Lay down...weapon and leave... go other human...town. Will... help... leave."

Third Root turned his back to the fortress, satisfied when he saw the last two helmeted heads of the defenders retreat back within their lifeless, dark wall. He knew they had no reason to trust his word, The now enormous fire was clearly visible, bathing the parapets with a fierce glow. Wordlessly, he signaled the Warrior to return to the fire with him. He could have healed the arm himself, but he desired the people of the town to witness first hand the self professed healing powers of the Orcs, to round out the little display already going on by the fire. The stubborn holdouts would likely be hiding behind their walls, trying to block out the sounds of the nonexistent massacre or attempting some means to get the word out.

 

[Easy]

Location: Luscia

Giland bowed slightly as Samir took up a weapon, and then suddenly and without forewarning lunged forward and knocked it aside roughly, breaking Samir's guard and finishing with his own blade stretched out to the Seventh's neck. "Point: Me." He grinned, all prior misery instantly forgotten at the first opportunity to show off. In truth, he had plenty to learn from Samir as well, who was noticeably the more experienced of the two as a swordsman, and only Giland's greater strength and reach allowed him to strike fast and far enough to challenge him quite evenly on the training ground. He had yet to admit as much to himself or anyone else, though, and withdrew the blade to adopt a more defensive stance now, enjoying himself and the thought of how striking a figure he must make in that armor.

TAG: Milamber

 

[Easy]

Location: Verthill

If the soldiers in the keep were in any way surprised by the sheer volume of the old shaman's voice, they did not in any way show it. After all that was, as far as their knowledge extended, probably just something that orcs could do. Instead, the few seconds of confused murmurings that followed were based around trying to decipher exactly what his message was. "I think," Resnak proposed, "he's trying to say that anyone who lays down arms can go free."

"Well, that's ridiculous." Sigius scoffed, and the general air was that the other men agreed. "Obviously a trap. They know we can see them detaining prisoners right there, don't they?" "Stupid orcs," chimed in Hallat, the cobbler's son.

Resnak eyed him thoughtfully. "That is stupid, private," he agreed. "But what profit from the trick? Orcs don't eat people, and they already have more than they've ever taken from the town. It's a trap all right, but the trick is finding out which one. So, here's what we're going to do..."

An hour later, the castle doors opened just far and long to release a slender youth in simple, rather less than quite clean wool and leather garb, who half-walked and half-limped to the inner gates with open and empty arms. "Safe passage!" Called the young man, who those familiar to him might recognize as Captain Resnak. "No weapons! You promised!"

TAG: Stoney, possibly Mayor Tirin

 

[Milamber]

Location: Luscia

As Giland’s blade rested against Samirs neck, the Seventh couldn’t help but childishly grin at being caught off guard. Giland’s technique had come a long way since he was first initiated into the Eight some time ago. His confidence with a blade had grown and with Miranda’s wisdom he knew how to use his strength and reach to gain and maintain a natural advantage. Should Izlude choose to train the Eighth, it wouldn’t be long before young Giland would surpass Samirs capabilities. Though he dared not feed his ego with such drivel, Samir recognised the potential that lay in front of him and would push hard to see it unravel. Testing his guard and patience, Samir advanced forward repeatedly striking Giland’s guard, slowly drawing him out, feigning an opening which was happily took advantage of. Giland lunged forward with a steady strike, smoothly manoeuvred around his opponent, weaving and parrying his strikes Samir remained close enough to limit his reach and redirect his opponent’s strength. Bringing the dance to an end, gliding nimbly out of Giland’s swing Samir tapped the edge of his opponent’s blade. With his blades increased momentum Giland lost control of his sword for just a moment, despite an attempt to recover, a swift tap on the blades hilt forced him to drop the blade. Leaving him at the edge of Samir’s blade, “Point.”

It was at this point, Lazarus observations were noted and with a courteous wave, Kulgan and Garth departed preceding their experiments elsewhere before placing three letters on Samir’s table.

Tag: Easy (Deciding Point)

 

[Tirin]

Location: Verthill

Backbreaker followed Third Root to the fire, unamused by the shaman's hesitance in treating him but knowing that it was to impress the humans. He didn't react to the old orc's declaration that the human warriors were free to leave if they so chose; they had been beaten and their champion thrown down, and so were not worth concerning himself with. The massive warrior's arm remained limp and very much useless at his side as he stood alongside the bonfire, the light of the flames reflected by his armor, and he waited in silence for the shaman to begin whatever flashy ritual would end with his arm being healed. While far from any kind of spiritual leader, Backbreaker found such displays of faith and power ostentatious, and much preferred his own sacrifices to the Great Mammoth - silent, save for the crunching of bones and screams of the slain.

TAG: Easy/Stoney

Location: Luscia

Even while he was taking mental notes on how to best replicate the technical skill displayed by Giland and Samir - particularly Samir - Lazarus couldn't help but notice that they weren't making great use (or, indeed, any use) of their magical skills. Certainly, it was possible that they were doing so to be courteous to one another, and improve their ability with a blade if they were pressed into a corner - he just hoped that neither of the pair would neglect their more obvious strengths while out in the field. Certainly, being combat-ready wasn't the primary responsibility of either, frequently-accompanied as they were by the older and more experienced members of the Eight, but it was just a good policy to integrate magical skill with swordsmanship. Though he was certainly a worse swordsman than both, he mused, neither would prove competition against him if they didn't fight a little more smartly.

TAG: Easy/Milamber

 

[Easy]

Location: Luscia

Giland grinned knowingly at the exchange and picked up his blade again, this time withdrawing a step and giving ample warning before advancing again. Steel clashed with steel as each testing strike was swiftly and efficiently turned aside by Samir's deft blade. Suddenly a just-fielded parry put him on the defensive for a few steps, but the tables were turned when, without missing a beat, he swatted the other's sword away with a blow vicious enough to have thrown it from a lesser swordsman's grip... or to throw the Seventh just slightly off-balance. Quick as a snake, Samir spun with the sidestep instead of trying to hold his ground and recover, and whirled around to bring his sword back up just under Giland's chin as the latter froze in mid-downswing, sword raised high for what would have been a finishing blow and with most of a pleased grin visible beneath his helmet. "Point," Samir calmly noted.

"...me?" Giland's voice called from behind him happily, and the Giland in front of him blurred and then faded from sight. He made to tap the blade playfully at Samir's neck, cementing his victory, only for the blade to rebound without ever touching him, a slight shimmering in the air indicating where Samir's barrier had stopped it. In a flash, the Seventh had turned, snatching Giland's sword arm by the wrist and turning it down as his own came up again to the nape of his neck. "Oh." Said Giland, leaned backwards by the hold, steel under his chin, with only Samir's grip holding him from falling backwards. "All right, your point then. Fair enough. Well-played, guv."

TAG: Milamber (/Mayor Tirin)

 

[Chlegyr]

Location: Verthill?

The wounded knight struggled with the "demons" that swirled around his vision and swarmed under his skin, fellow prisoners keeping a wide berth of the frothing knight clearly driven mad from some Orcish sorcery.

Light from the fire shifted in and out of the unblinking eyes of the shuddering man, horrors and hopes alike flickering in his mind as the demons mocked and taunted him, playing with his senses and sundering his reason. Suddenly, the incongruous babble of shrieks and demands slackened, petering off and fading into silence.

The courtyard and the fire vanished, running like dirty water into the gutters during a downpour. In their place, a plain of endless white stretched into the horizon, like pristine snow untouched by wind or beast.

How extravagant the display of faith until their Mammoth finally notices their devotion, I wonder?

The voice was formless, directionless, merely emanating from the white void.

The being now residing in Holnius' head whispered as a cold, winter wind crept through the gaunt copse of trees of a place so far North Holnius doubted men even had a name for it. Rocks jutted from the ice blasted wastes, runes scribbled deep in a language more ancient than the stone it resided in. Beyond lay a shoreline besieged by thick sheets of ice, whose spires stretched further into the horizon, seemingly scratching the empty blue sky above.

This was a desolate, wretched place, and yet it seemed infernally familiar somehow. What was the importance of the place? Why was the demon showing him this?

Doubtful you could truly understand the magnitude of what you are witnessing, but yet you may still be able to be of use.

The images were brought unbidden, forcefully implanted as a kind of memory scratched into his memory.

A vast horde of orcs , boundless and armed and, trampling down a mountainside, through the forests and glens Holnius was now starting to recognize as Verthil's expansive hinterland. Amongst their numbers were huge, woolen beasts, armored in dull sheets of bronze and ridden by teams of archers. Some had enormous tusks, capped with the same bronze and easily capable of bringing down the gates of Verthill alone. Others bore packs of supplies, and were accompanied by smaller figures distinguishable from the warriors as women and children.

At the head of the congregation was a truly huge Orc, long black hair trailing over the typically avian features. This orc wore a gleaming crown, set with rough jewels and banded with fine silver. The sword he carried was a magnificent bastard sword, regal as the crown and carried with a grace usually reserved for fine Southern monarchy. As the orc muttered in his language, the old Orc that had confronted him on the walls appeared at his side. The "king" pointed towards the distance, and the old one nodded.

The memory seemed to fade shortly after that, blending into the featureless white plain once more.

The old one is powerful, much more than he reveals. He has designs on much more than a mere string of castles in some far flung corner of a fallen Empire. Ask your questions, your time here grows short, and your companions risk their lives by toying with the orcs.

Tags : Easy

 

[Milamber]

Nodding solemnly, Samir lowered the blades edge and hoisted Ser Giland back to his feet. Releasing his grip the Seventh returned his sword to its rightful place, sheathed to its crimson scabbard at his side.

“Well played indeed, you forced me to use my insurance...”

Making a slight gesture with his left hand, the shimmering atmosphere subsided. Dismissing his spell in its entirety; Samir reset the barrier reapplying numerous threads to eclipse the shimmer that was previously present. Taking note of Gilands trick he glanced back to position of the illusion that had stood before him “It looked so real that time.”

“You’re going to make a deadly swordsman with that trick Giland. I’m certain of it. But should you spar with Izlude, know that no ordinary illusion will faze him. Magic is simply an irritation to him, almost like glass shattering in his presence.”

Engaging with Giland further with idle chat, Samir returned to his desk unravelling the two scrolls that Kulgan left on his table. The first was a simple note from Kulgan, stating that he and Garth would continue working on a device in private and would call upon the Seventh when needed.

The second scroll was tied with a blue ribbon, the letter was clearly written by a scribe for the letters design was exotic and the style was immaculate. It simply read:

To my Lord Samir, Seventh of Eight and Fabled Ward.

In response to your previous invitations to the Capital, each applicant has agreed to meet with you at their earliest convenience. While the majority are eager to be received by the Lord Seventh, a few have noted some irritation of the necessity of further training and deemed it unnecessary. Despite this however they appear eager to serve and willing to do what is commanded of them.

During your absence this morning, I received a note from each applicant. It appears Brower, the Cynefrid’s and Waltraud will be arriving no later than a week. However Brant, Rhys and the unsavoury rabble are delayed until at least a fortnight. Each sends their deepest apologies and will attempt to settle their business with great haste. Should any news for you arrive in the meantime, I’ll sent a squire to you in person.

The Crowns Loyal and Faithful Servant

Babus

TAG: Tirin/Easy

 

[Zapy97]

Current location: Loosandrian Test Range, Cannon firing
Character: Alexander VIII
Alexander watched with his favorite spy glass as the cannon ball sailed across the field landing in the barn sized target a mile away fired by the largest of the cannons on any of steampanzers. The cannon having been mounted on the Kannonedampfwagon, loaded up a new prototype ammo which had a fuse and a small charge that was surrounded by small grapeshot. The cannon was fired over about one hundred targets, which the bang from the cannon shifted Alexander's hair slightly. The round flew over the targets detonating to late for the grapeshot to land amongst the targets. The gunnery crew loaded a new round with an adjusted fuse length, firing the cannon with once again a giant bang. The round sailed through the air and exploded only one hundred feet from the cannon. A single ball from the round flew back and bounced off of Alexander's picklehaube denting it. Alexander walking down from the viewing vista, marched over to the machine, climbed up onto the gunnery platform. Alexander grabbed the gunner and threw him down into the mud. Grabbing a new round jotting down some quick math, then adjusted the fuse exactly to his liking. He loaded the round and grabbed the powder charge from the loader, dumping a slight bit out of it then loaded it quickly. He ordered the breech closed and the cannon primed, Alexander sat himself on the aiming controller seat. Aiming the cannon with the steam drive and hand cranked controls he put the cross hairs over the targets. Alexander fired the cannon, the round sailed over the ground, exploding landing the grapeshot into the midst of the targets.

Alexander getting up from the controls feeling the quite accomplished called for a barrage in mass. The steam panzers fired fired their puckle guns and cannons at their maximum rate at the target army. Alexander getting off the cannon tractor, confronted the gunner and said to him "Better luck next time cousin." Alexander walked back to his perch followed by his mud coated cousin Paul. Paul said "be damn good fireworks if they weren't so deadly." The cannon balls glowed as they flew through the air due to a chemical coating. Alexander replied, "indeed, damn good fireworks."
Tag: Me

 

[Easy]

Location: Verthill

"Who... what..." Sir Holinus's questions caught in his throat. (Was he saying them out loud? In his head? Both?). He grasped for some reassurance, and found it in faith: the realm of spirits and demons was also the purview of gods. His God. "I- my people." He found the words, sacrificing no amount of deference for the mustered confidence. "The Eximians. The garrison. How can I help them?"

TAG: Stoney


Location: Luscia

"Good, right?" Giland forgot the mild disappointment from the final round in a flash, happy to discuss his new trick. "I skipped around you while you were turning, which made the illusion easy. Distractions always make it easy. Miranda has me practice leaving the illusion behind while I teleport instead, which would make it far deadlier, but I can't do it quickly without screwing up the illusion... yet. I'm getting better, though. I get a little faster and a little cleaner every week, though Miranda says it may take years to get it down fluently. I think she's just being a downer, though - ho, Lazarus!" He waved cheerily to the observant pyromancer, then nudged the Seventh slightly with his elbow. "Know what? I think I'm going to make myself look like him, and go start visiting brothels. I bet he has one on retainer." With a mischievous grin, Giland took his leave. He stopped briefly in the hallway, just around a corner and out of Lazarus's sight, to turn back and wave his farewell, and to show off his illusion. For a moment, there were two of Lazarus in Samir's field of vision, then the newer one turned around and strode back out of sight.

TAG: Milamber, Tirin

...

Some days later...

...

Location: The Verchluss Sea

The largest of three merchantmen sailing from Serenn led the formation front and center, flying the Emperor's own banner, a red falcon on a golden shield, over a golden sword and cross, on a background of imperial red. It was midday, and having just left port at dawn, they were on schedule to arrive at Allin before dawn tomorrow. From the flagship, Miranda Zasolez, the First of Eight, was peering ahead and far to the right, (or south, or starboard-side, depending on whom one asked here), through a spyglass by the request of the captain. Yochanan watched from behind her, unable to actively interfere with the operation but hoping for trouble anyway, while Lazarus worked out how to deal with his boredom somewhere. For any observers with the means to sense it, it must have appeared as though half the magic on the Verchluss Sea was concentrated on their little vessel. "Will it be a problem?" She asked, handing the spyglass off to the captain with just the hint of a frown. Yochanan developed just the hint of a smile.

"Can't say, m'lady." The man confessed, hesitant to be the bearer of bad news to present company but forced into the position anyway. "But I've been watching half an hour and she's on intercept course, right enough. Them ironclads don't got no need to follow the wind - and that ain't the path of it, anyway, and there's no trade port where they're headed, but it might be they mean just to reach the Imperial coast and follow the current instead. Or might be it's pirates, though their Kaiser's fleet's near as hostile, the thievin' buggers. Your pardon, m'lady. We can outrun them if it come to't, but I ain't keen on fighting an ironclad."

"Alter course a little; veer slightly north. Not too much, mind, just enough that they'll have to speed up to intercept. If they do, signal for parlay and call me as soon as we start approaching contact range." To the call of the orders, she turned and made way back into her cabin. This would be a slight delay, but it couldn't be helped. Most unfortunate.

TAG: Tirin, Zapy