Altharis
Tovarisch Volksdeutsch, Professional Crucifier
- Location
- Poland
I recommend voting again 'cause this post screwed your vote in the tally.
-
Going forward, links to content from Twitter (now X) will no longer be embedded. Pre-existing links should not be affected.
Blood of the Frontier (CK2) Completed.
- Thread starter Magoose
- Start date
- Original
CrossyCross
A+ RIDING
[X]Zima Królowa
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Here is our Waifu everyone.
Edit: Forgot a trait.
Name: Zima Królowa
Age: 18
Health: 7.0
Fertility: 125% (Trying for a child has a +20 roll boost.)
Titles: Princess of Poland, Countess of Sacz.
Skills:
Diplomacy: 12
Martial: 24
Stewardship: 12
Intrigue: 10
Learning: 9
Personal Combat: 26
Traits:
Brilliant Strategist: You were a good soldier, but your grasp at command was something that made you the envy of the empire.(+9 to martial, +2 to learning)
Strong: You are physically strong and imposing. (+1 to diplomacy, +2 to martial. +2 to health, +6 to Personal Combat, +25% to fertility)
Just: You will always try and bring criminals to justice. (+4 stewardship, +2 to diplomacy)
Brave: You are utterly fearless on the battlefield and off it. (+2 to martial stat and +2 to diplomacy, +2 to Personal combat.)
Skilled Fighter: Your skill in personal combat is well above the best-trained soldier in the empire. (+2 to martial. +8 to personal combat)
Proud: You think yourself better than anyone else. (-1 to diplomacy, +5 to personal action rolls)
Combat modifier: The Winged Hussar: You are a highly trained Noble Knight of Poland and are part of the most legendary heavy calvaries in the Empire and your training has made you a master of leading them. (Heavy calvary gains a +10 in all attacking and defending rolls.)
Edit: Forgot a trait.
Age: 18
Health: 7.0
Fertility: 125% (Trying for a child has a +20 roll boost.)
Titles: Princess of Poland, Countess of Sacz.
Skills:
Diplomacy: 12
Martial: 24
Stewardship: 12
Intrigue: 10
Learning: 9
Personal Combat: 26
Traits:
Brilliant Strategist: You were a good soldier, but your grasp at command was something that made you the envy of the empire.(+9 to martial, +2 to learning)
Strong: You are physically strong and imposing. (+1 to diplomacy, +2 to martial. +2 to health, +6 to Personal Combat, +25% to fertility)
Just: You will always try and bring criminals to justice. (+4 stewardship, +2 to diplomacy)
Brave: You are utterly fearless on the battlefield and off it. (+2 to martial stat and +2 to diplomacy, +2 to Personal combat.)
Skilled Fighter: Your skill in personal combat is well above the best-trained soldier in the empire. (+2 to martial. +8 to personal combat)
Proud: You think yourself better than anyone else. (-1 to diplomacy, +5 to personal action rolls)
Combat modifier: The Winged Hussar: You are a highly trained Noble Knight of Poland and are part of the most legendary heavy calvaries in the Empire and your training has made you a master of leading them. (Heavy calvary gains a +10 in all attacking and defending rolls.)
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Altharis
Tovarisch Volksdeutsch, Professional Crucifier
- Location
- Poland
We've got Genius and she's got Strong. It appears it's the start of our early eugenics programHere is our Waifu everyone.
Edit: Forgot a trait.
Name: Zima Królowa
Age: 18
Health: 7.0
Fertility: 125% (Trying for a child does not have a penalty.)
Titles: Princess of Poland, Countess of Sacz.
Skills:
Diplomacy: 12
Martial: 24
Stewardship: 12
Intrigue: 10
Learning: 9
Personal Combat: 26
Traits:
Brilliant Strategist: You were a good soldier, but your grasp at command was always sketchy when leading large units. (+9 to martial, +2 to learning)
Strong: You are physically strong and imposing. (+1 to diplomacy, +2 to martial. +2 to health, +6 to Personal Combat, +25% to fertility)
Just: You will always try and bring criminals to justice. (+4 stewardship, +2 to diplomacy)
Brave: You are utterly fearless on the battlefield and off it. (+2 to martial stat and +2 to diplomacy, +2 to Personal combat.)
Skilled Fighter: Your skill in personal combat is well above the best-trained soldier in the empire. (+2 to martial. +8 to personal combat)
Proud: You think yourself better than anyone else. (-1 to diplomacy, +5 to personal action rolls)
Combat modifier: The Winged Hussar: You are a highly trained Noble Knight of Poland and are part of the most legendary heavy calvaries in the Empire and your training has made you a master of leading them. (Heavy calvary gains a +10 in all attacking and defending rolls.)
Could you show us how other candidates look like? Ai Song in particular, I'm curious.
Yes.
And we shall ride on bears.
...
I'll never abandon this idea.
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
uh... no. Mostly because I'm about to go to work, and I really want to save them to a little later when they become relevant to other stories within the universe.
- Location
- il bel paese dove il sì sona
- Pronouns
- He
Fair enough. Only, what would have been Ai Song's dowry?
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
5000 elite light infantry that serves as her bodyguard, about 5000 gold pieces that are equal to the imperial ducats and a foreign contact in the imperial court.
Meet the Wife
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Meet the Wife
You saw your bride-to-be for the first time on the back of a black stallion, clad in heavy plate mail. In her right hand was the banner of Poland, the dual red and white line that flowed in the wind like an unbroken line of color. At her side was her saber, which jangled around slightly as her horse continued forward. Wrapped around her back was a leopard's pelt, with the red feathered frames attached to her armor declaring to the world exactly who she was. Her golden hair was cut short, most of it hiding underneath the steel helmet on her head. Her blue eyes glared at you with a curiosity that was matched by determination.
Princess Zima Królowa was everything that the rumors said about her, and more.
Behind her, however, were two thousand horsemen marching towards your palace in a ten-by-ten box formation. Each was dressed similarly to Zima, only without theleopard skin cape on their backs.
Of course, you did not disappoint when it came to armor. Instead of fancy silks and wearing something comfortable, you wore full plate mail as well, with large shoulder mounts. Beneath it, you wore chainmail, and underneath that a padded jerkin. On your back, a longsword's hilt stuck out on your right side.
Beside you was your merry band of bodyguards, who were all staring at your wife to be with envy. And in Ashford's case, lust.
"My god… do you think she has a sister?" Ashford asked.
"Ashford, control yourself. You wouldn't want to get gelded now." Gavin joked as he saw Ashford lick his lips. "Our fair princess would probably do it herself if you tried it."
"I wouldn't doubt it," Ionnos commented. "Especially if she has a sister." There was a chuckle from Alfonso and Wilhelm. He looked at Basilus, who was staring at Zima. "What are you looking at Basilus?"
"Her cape. It's not any animal I've ever seen before." Basilus replied to his brother.
"It's a leopard Basilius." You replied. "They live in Africa."
"Oh…" Basilius replied, looking down in embarrassment.
Alfonso whistled as Zima trotted up and down her formation of horsemen, inspecting each of the lines before moving onto the next one. "She's a catch, my prince." He whistled again. "I've never seen a woman in armor before. What a progressive world we live in. Makes me-"
"Finish that thought, and you're on latrine duty." Jory scolded.
"But we're not in the field." Alfonso stated.
"Doesn't mean you can't help with the staff." Wilhelm said, stealing Jory's line.
"Yes." Jory glared at Wilhelm, who wisely stepped away from him. "You can help the staff."
Alfonso pouted. "You're all no fun."
"Would you rather be dead in a ditch with your master?" You growled.
Alfonso closed his eyes, his hands trembling as he took three deep breaths to calm himself down. "No."
"Then shut up." You growled.
Zima then reared her horse in front of her men and dismounted, another knight dismounted next to her and grabbed the reins of her horse. In a swift movement, she removed her helmet and flourished her short hair, before rolling her neck. You thought you heard words being said in her native tongue before her men laughed.
Zima then walked towards you. "Grand Prince." She bowed her head. "It is nice to finally meet you."
You bowed your head as well and when you looked up, you locked eyes with Zima. You saw a fierce determination in those eyes, one that almost matched yours when it came to fighting and strategy. "Princess." You replied. "I hope the ride was not arduous."
"It wasn't." By god her smile was beautiful. It was like looking at the sunrise on a clear winter's morning, with a gentle blanket of snow on the streets. "Your lords were very kind to me when they heard about where I was heading."
You paused, just taking her in. She was not the most naturally attractive girl you had ever met, but she was certainly the one you found yourself drawn to. Maybe it was that aura of command that she had. Maybe it was the fact that, unlike most women you met, she was more comfortable in armor then in dresses and silk. But you found yourself entranced with her.
Gavin elbowed you in the back, and you got back into reality. "I have quarters for your men prepared, my men will lead them to it." There was a groan from Basilius but the rest of your retinue nodded and started walking towards the knights. "And since we are to be wed, would you like to see the palace?" You held out your hand to lead her.
"I would love that." Zima replied as she took your hand.
Maybe you would grow to love her in time, but you cared more about the troops she brought with her. The boarder had been left open, allowing raiders to continue striking at your people. It would end soon.
Hopefully, Fulk knew Polish.
Reward: Zima Relation at 50/100. Gain 2000 Veteran Heavy Cavalry. New Actions Available.
AN: Enjoy!
You saw your bride-to-be for the first time on the back of a black stallion, clad in heavy plate mail. In her right hand was the banner of Poland, the dual red and white line that flowed in the wind like an unbroken line of color. At her side was her saber, which jangled around slightly as her horse continued forward. Wrapped around her back was a leopard's pelt, with the red feathered frames attached to her armor declaring to the world exactly who she was. Her golden hair was cut short, most of it hiding underneath the steel helmet on her head. Her blue eyes glared at you with a curiosity that was matched by determination.
Princess Zima Królowa was everything that the rumors said about her, and more.
Behind her, however, were two thousand horsemen marching towards your palace in a ten-by-ten box formation. Each was dressed similarly to Zima, only without theleopard skin cape on their backs.
Of course, you did not disappoint when it came to armor. Instead of fancy silks and wearing something comfortable, you wore full plate mail as well, with large shoulder mounts. Beneath it, you wore chainmail, and underneath that a padded jerkin. On your back, a longsword's hilt stuck out on your right side.
Beside you was your merry band of bodyguards, who were all staring at your wife to be with envy. And in Ashford's case, lust.
"My god… do you think she has a sister?" Ashford asked.
"Ashford, control yourself. You wouldn't want to get gelded now." Gavin joked as he saw Ashford lick his lips. "Our fair princess would probably do it herself if you tried it."
"I wouldn't doubt it," Ionnos commented. "Especially if she has a sister." There was a chuckle from Alfonso and Wilhelm. He looked at Basilus, who was staring at Zima. "What are you looking at Basilus?"
"Her cape. It's not any animal I've ever seen before." Basilus replied to his brother.
"It's a leopard Basilius." You replied. "They live in Africa."
"Oh…" Basilius replied, looking down in embarrassment.
Alfonso whistled as Zima trotted up and down her formation of horsemen, inspecting each of the lines before moving onto the next one. "She's a catch, my prince." He whistled again. "I've never seen a woman in armor before. What a progressive world we live in. Makes me-"
"Finish that thought, and you're on latrine duty." Jory scolded.
"But we're not in the field." Alfonso stated.
"Doesn't mean you can't help with the staff." Wilhelm said, stealing Jory's line.
"Yes." Jory glared at Wilhelm, who wisely stepped away from him. "You can help the staff."
Alfonso pouted. "You're all no fun."
"Would you rather be dead in a ditch with your master?" You growled.
Alfonso closed his eyes, his hands trembling as he took three deep breaths to calm himself down. "No."
"Then shut up." You growled.
Zima then reared her horse in front of her men and dismounted, another knight dismounted next to her and grabbed the reins of her horse. In a swift movement, she removed her helmet and flourished her short hair, before rolling her neck. You thought you heard words being said in her native tongue before her men laughed.
Zima then walked towards you. "Grand Prince." She bowed her head. "It is nice to finally meet you."
You bowed your head as well and when you looked up, you locked eyes with Zima. You saw a fierce determination in those eyes, one that almost matched yours when it came to fighting and strategy. "Princess." You replied. "I hope the ride was not arduous."
"It wasn't." By god her smile was beautiful. It was like looking at the sunrise on a clear winter's morning, with a gentle blanket of snow on the streets. "Your lords were very kind to me when they heard about where I was heading."
You paused, just taking her in. She was not the most naturally attractive girl you had ever met, but she was certainly the one you found yourself drawn to. Maybe it was that aura of command that she had. Maybe it was the fact that, unlike most women you met, she was more comfortable in armor then in dresses and silk. But you found yourself entranced with her.
Gavin elbowed you in the back, and you got back into reality. "I have quarters for your men prepared, my men will lead them to it." There was a groan from Basilius but the rest of your retinue nodded and started walking towards the knights. "And since we are to be wed, would you like to see the palace?" You held out your hand to lead her.
"I would love that." Zima replied as she took your hand.
Maybe you would grow to love her in time, but you cared more about the troops she brought with her. The boarder had been left open, allowing raiders to continue striking at your people. It would end soon.
Hopefully, Fulk knew Polish.
Reward: Zima Relation at 50/100. Gain 2000 Veteran Heavy Cavalry. New Actions Available.
AN: Enjoy!
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Only slightly. We are 16, I just forgot to update the sheet.
An Order To Bring Them Together
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
An Order To Bring Them Together
(Prince Alexander POV)
When you were a child, you always loved listening to the stories of your grandfather when he was a prince. How he battled the Turkish raiders from Anatolia, where he proved his might by leading a charge that broke the Turkish attack and sent them across the Bosporus, and where they have stayed ever since. His brokered peace between the three Scandinavian nations when they battled for supremacy over the Baltic sea, which allowed all parties to prosper from unrestricted trade. When he was crowned, he allowed sweeping infrastructure reforms, increasing the wealth of the Empire to a point where he could have allowed tax breaks for a single year to all the provinces.
But as he grew older, his brilliance faded. His mind became riddled with magnificent ideas that were never acted upon, and the local lords grew complacent with the imperial army always marching around to set up proper defenses or bases for them. The House of Lords continued to bicker about useless things that only served to enrich themselves. Projects of imperial importance, like funding for said barracks for the soldiers, fell by the wayside. Bureaucracy took over, and the empire was coasting on inertia from a magnificent rulers achievements.
Then the coups happened and everything got worse. The blow your grandfather took put him into a coma for a month, and you lost your father and mother right in front of you. You nearly lost your sister too. Men tried to carry her away, but you stopped them. You still remembered the blood on your hands as you gouged their eyes out in a fit of blind rage, your sister screaming as she watched.
Your Grandfather now saw traitors everywhere. He locked himself in his room, talking almost solely to Godfrey, while sending assassins and spies to every corner of the empire to root out any elements that might show itself disloyal.
But his paranoid actions were damaging the legitimacy of your family's lineage. An enemy was striking at your family. An unknown enemy that threatened the very fabric of the Empire.
You needed something to counteract this unknown enemy, and there was only one way you could do that.
And that reminded you of your father. He was part of an order of knights and lords whose sole purpose was to defend the empire from foreign and domestic threats. The Order of the Dragon needed to be reinstated… Old and new ties had to be made to keep the empire from falling to pieces.
"Sandra... I need paper. Lots of paper." You said.
AN: And have another omake for the delay that will come so i can enjoy thanksgiving.
(Prince Alexander POV)
When you were a child, you always loved listening to the stories of your grandfather when he was a prince. How he battled the Turkish raiders from Anatolia, where he proved his might by leading a charge that broke the Turkish attack and sent them across the Bosporus, and where they have stayed ever since. His brokered peace between the three Scandinavian nations when they battled for supremacy over the Baltic sea, which allowed all parties to prosper from unrestricted trade. When he was crowned, he allowed sweeping infrastructure reforms, increasing the wealth of the Empire to a point where he could have allowed tax breaks for a single year to all the provinces.
But as he grew older, his brilliance faded. His mind became riddled with magnificent ideas that were never acted upon, and the local lords grew complacent with the imperial army always marching around to set up proper defenses or bases for them. The House of Lords continued to bicker about useless things that only served to enrich themselves. Projects of imperial importance, like funding for said barracks for the soldiers, fell by the wayside. Bureaucracy took over, and the empire was coasting on inertia from a magnificent rulers achievements.
Then the coups happened and everything got worse. The blow your grandfather took put him into a coma for a month, and you lost your father and mother right in front of you. You nearly lost your sister too. Men tried to carry her away, but you stopped them. You still remembered the blood on your hands as you gouged their eyes out in a fit of blind rage, your sister screaming as she watched.
Your Grandfather now saw traitors everywhere. He locked himself in his room, talking almost solely to Godfrey, while sending assassins and spies to every corner of the empire to root out any elements that might show itself disloyal.
But his paranoid actions were damaging the legitimacy of your family's lineage. An enemy was striking at your family. An unknown enemy that threatened the very fabric of the Empire.
You needed something to counteract this unknown enemy, and there was only one way you could do that.
And that reminded you of your father. He was part of an order of knights and lords whose sole purpose was to defend the empire from foreign and domestic threats. The Order of the Dragon needed to be reinstated… Old and new ties had to be made to keep the empire from falling to pieces.
"Sandra... I need paper. Lots of paper." You said.
AN: And have another omake for the delay that will come so i can enjoy thanksgiving.
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- Location
- il bel paese dove il sì sona
- Pronouns
- He
Pulchra es et decora, filia Poloniae: terribilis ut castrorum acies ordinata
What about the assassination scene @Magoose?
What about the assassination scene @Magoose?
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Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
I wanted to do some world building. It will come out in a few days.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
Gesundheit.
- Location
- il bel paese dove il sì sona
- Pronouns
- He
Thanks and sorry, I didn't mean to pressure you or amything, rather if it tale place before or after the marriage in the Quest's chronology.
KJV then? "Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners."
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Before. This is them meeting for the first tine before the wedding.
- Location
- Reno Nv
seems like SV loves the warrior wifu.
My first thought when I saw the Latin quote was that someone was offering up a family motto for Vasily. If we do so then, considering our vow towards the Mongols, I don't think the words of Tacitus would go astray -
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant ( 'They make a desert and call it peace')
Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant ( 'They make a desert and call it peace')
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Pretty good but no. Family history if you vote for it will answer it.
Side Stories of the Empire: The Sea’s Prodigal Son
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Stories of the Empire: The Sea's Prodigal Son
(Bijorn the Red Sail's POV)
Standing out on the tower staring towards the Baltic Sea was the least productive hobbies that Bijorn 'The Red Sail' Af Muso partaken in. There was more exciting, daring things that he could have done with the hours he sat on the high tower, cloaked in heavy furs to stay warm. Hunting with his brother for some extra meat for a feast, interacting with his court on the latest gossip around the city, working to gain even more wealth and power. But he refused those trivialities. They were no longer important to him… Not anymore.
In his youth, he loved adventure, and sailed to every corner of the known world, trading foreign goods and achieving a reputation as one of the finest sea trade captains that sailed the empires banner, despite getting kicked out of the Imperial Navel academy for coming . And when the empire called him into service to destroy a small fleet of pirates that were attacking the shores of the greeks, he answered it with such vigor and energy that he gained his nickname, 'The Red Sail' for painting his sails red with the blood of the men who tried to board his ship.
But all adventures must end, and when the pirates were defeated, home called to him. Bjorn left his dangerous, adventurous life for one of comfort, and family. He never regretted it, as his wife gave him several children, children that grew strong, proud and noble, with minds as sharp as his own. Their taste for adventure causing them to scatter like the wind across the empire, and beyond.
And now he was an old man, his hair greyed from age, and his strength was slowly but surely leaving his body with each passing winter. Sometimes he could hardly stay awake, his constant worrying about his children left him up on the tower, waiting for their ships to pull into port, and they could eat together as a family once more
But his mind wandered, footsteps from behind, stomping on the wooden stairs caused him to turn around, and face his brother. His brother Rollo was equally as grey and old, though he still had the energy of a man ten years younger. "I knew I'd find you here." His voice was rasping. "Bijorn… Can we talk?"
Bijorn chuckled. "You still feel the need to ask to talk?" He was still annoyed by the pleasantries and formalities of court, even having been a prince for almost forty years.
Rollo nodded, walking next to Bijorn and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You still worry about them, when all of them are adults in the eyes of the law."
"I know… But I hope that they got my message." Ragnar gave a heavy sign.
"They'll get here as fast as they can." Rollo replied, trying to reassure Bijorn.
But it didn't work. Bijorn coughed and clutched the wall. Rollo moved to assist his brother but Ragnar put his hand up and tried to stand up straight on his own. "I'm fine."
"No your not," Rollo replied, grabbing his brothers shoulder to help him stand straight again. "you're going to die if you stay up here."
"No, I won't…" Bijorn stated. "The snow and cold have never bothered me, not as a child and not now."
Rollo let go of his brother and let his brother fall against the wall. "We both know that isn't true."
Bijorn growled. "Rollo, do you know why I stand up here?"
"Yes, I do," Rollo growled. "And that's all the more reason for you to go inside, get warm and eat. They shouldn't have to come home to bury their dead father."
Bijorn took a breath and clenched his fist. "Is there anything from Alva?"
All of his children did well and were serving the empire well in their own ways, but Alva was always Bijorn's favorite.
"Aye. She's in Paris right now, with that trader she had been writing about." Rollo replied, about to continue but was cut off by Bijorn.
"Is she now… Is she going to be giving me another grandchild by any chance?" Bijorn asked with a chuckle.
"No… She's made some enemies." Rollo replied. "The kind that will hunt her if she goes out to sea."
That made Bijorn's blood chill like the snow falling from above. "Who?"
"The Hanseatic League have brought charges against her for piracy on their ships," Rollo replied. "And that they want to try her in a Hanseatic court."
"I know my daughter, she wouldn't attack any ship unless it attacked her…" Bijorn then understood who was behind the accusations. "Damn, that white-haired vampiric, dishonorable, merchant bastard!"
"Am I missing something?" Rollo asked.
"No brother… it's Otto Schnee." Bijorn growled the name.
Rollo's eyes widened. "Oh… Fuck." The Rivalry between Otto and Bijorn were legendary in the navel world. Hardly a sailor who sailed didn't know about the feud between the young admirals, and their quest for glory. When both men were in the Imperial Navy, were constantly trying to one-up themselves with feats of naval tactics and brilliance before Bijorn cemented his reputation by destroyed the pirate fleet in the Bosporus with only ten ships when the enemy had fifty, cementing Bijorn as the greatest admiral of his generation. while Otto destroyed his fleet trying to chase a group of Turkish smugglers through one of the worst storms that the Mediterranean had ever seen.
His reputation ruined, Otto began to wallow away, disgraced and having no hope in the navy as his career was destroyed by that storm. That was before marrying into the Schnee's, a Hanseatic patrician family, who had fallen on hard times. Through sheer force of will and cutthroat tactics that had made him rise to admiral of the Greek fleet in the navy as a younger man, had made it into the most powerful patrician house in the Hansa, his word in the city was second only to the Grand Prince himself.
And now he was trying to get back at Bijorn for ruining his career in the navy and stealing the reputation that he thought was rightfully his. "Rollo send a petition for the trial to be held at the imperial court! My daughter stands falsely accused of piracy and I want to be sure she has a fair trial!" Bijorn barked.
Rollo could hardly contain the grim smile on his face. "Yes, brother. And what about Lord Leif? Shall I inform him that you will be coming to the capital or do you want to arrive unannounced?"
"Aye tell him I'm coming. And make sure their's enough ale for the men when we get there." Bijorn replied. Deep within his body, he felt the fire grow with in him, the fire he had not felt in a long time. The fire to protect his daughter.
"Yes, brother," Rollo replied with a small bow of the head. "it shall be done."
AN: More World Building HO! Also, I'm back!
(Bijorn the Red Sail's POV)
Standing out on the tower staring towards the Baltic Sea was the least productive hobbies that Bijorn 'The Red Sail' Af Muso partaken in. There was more exciting, daring things that he could have done with the hours he sat on the high tower, cloaked in heavy furs to stay warm. Hunting with his brother for some extra meat for a feast, interacting with his court on the latest gossip around the city, working to gain even more wealth and power. But he refused those trivialities. They were no longer important to him… Not anymore.
In his youth, he loved adventure, and sailed to every corner of the known world, trading foreign goods and achieving a reputation as one of the finest sea trade captains that sailed the empires banner, despite getting kicked out of the Imperial Navel academy for coming . And when the empire called him into service to destroy a small fleet of pirates that were attacking the shores of the greeks, he answered it with such vigor and energy that he gained his nickname, 'The Red Sail' for painting his sails red with the blood of the men who tried to board his ship.
But all adventures must end, and when the pirates were defeated, home called to him. Bjorn left his dangerous, adventurous life for one of comfort, and family. He never regretted it, as his wife gave him several children, children that grew strong, proud and noble, with minds as sharp as his own. Their taste for adventure causing them to scatter like the wind across the empire, and beyond.
And now he was an old man, his hair greyed from age, and his strength was slowly but surely leaving his body with each passing winter. Sometimes he could hardly stay awake, his constant worrying about his children left him up on the tower, waiting for their ships to pull into port, and they could eat together as a family once more
But his mind wandered, footsteps from behind, stomping on the wooden stairs caused him to turn around, and face his brother. His brother Rollo was equally as grey and old, though he still had the energy of a man ten years younger. "I knew I'd find you here." His voice was rasping. "Bijorn… Can we talk?"
Bijorn chuckled. "You still feel the need to ask to talk?" He was still annoyed by the pleasantries and formalities of court, even having been a prince for almost forty years.
Rollo nodded, walking next to Bijorn and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You still worry about them, when all of them are adults in the eyes of the law."
"I know… But I hope that they got my message." Ragnar gave a heavy sign.
"They'll get here as fast as they can." Rollo replied, trying to reassure Bijorn.
But it didn't work. Bijorn coughed and clutched the wall. Rollo moved to assist his brother but Ragnar put his hand up and tried to stand up straight on his own. "I'm fine."
"No your not," Rollo replied, grabbing his brothers shoulder to help him stand straight again. "you're going to die if you stay up here."
"No, I won't…" Bijorn stated. "The snow and cold have never bothered me, not as a child and not now."
Rollo let go of his brother and let his brother fall against the wall. "We both know that isn't true."
Bijorn growled. "Rollo, do you know why I stand up here?"
"Yes, I do," Rollo growled. "And that's all the more reason for you to go inside, get warm and eat. They shouldn't have to come home to bury their dead father."
Bijorn took a breath and clenched his fist. "Is there anything from Alva?"
All of his children did well and were serving the empire well in their own ways, but Alva was always Bijorn's favorite.
"Aye. She's in Paris right now, with that trader she had been writing about." Rollo replied, about to continue but was cut off by Bijorn.
"Is she now… Is she going to be giving me another grandchild by any chance?" Bijorn asked with a chuckle.
"No… She's made some enemies." Rollo replied. "The kind that will hunt her if she goes out to sea."
That made Bijorn's blood chill like the snow falling from above. "Who?"
"The Hanseatic League have brought charges against her for piracy on their ships," Rollo replied. "And that they want to try her in a Hanseatic court."
"I know my daughter, she wouldn't attack any ship unless it attacked her…" Bijorn then understood who was behind the accusations. "Damn, that white-haired vampiric, dishonorable, merchant bastard!"
"Am I missing something?" Rollo asked.
"No brother… it's Otto Schnee." Bijorn growled the name.
Rollo's eyes widened. "Oh… Fuck." The Rivalry between Otto and Bijorn were legendary in the navel world. Hardly a sailor who sailed didn't know about the feud between the young admirals, and their quest for glory. When both men were in the Imperial Navy, were constantly trying to one-up themselves with feats of naval tactics and brilliance before Bijorn cemented his reputation by destroyed the pirate fleet in the Bosporus with only ten ships when the enemy had fifty, cementing Bijorn as the greatest admiral of his generation. while Otto destroyed his fleet trying to chase a group of Turkish smugglers through one of the worst storms that the Mediterranean had ever seen.
His reputation ruined, Otto began to wallow away, disgraced and having no hope in the navy as his career was destroyed by that storm. That was before marrying into the Schnee's, a Hanseatic patrician family, who had fallen on hard times. Through sheer force of will and cutthroat tactics that had made him rise to admiral of the Greek fleet in the navy as a younger man, had made it into the most powerful patrician house in the Hansa, his word in the city was second only to the Grand Prince himself.
And now he was trying to get back at Bijorn for ruining his career in the navy and stealing the reputation that he thought was rightfully his. "Rollo send a petition for the trial to be held at the imperial court! My daughter stands falsely accused of piracy and I want to be sure she has a fair trial!" Bijorn barked.
Rollo could hardly contain the grim smile on his face. "Yes, brother. And what about Lord Leif? Shall I inform him that you will be coming to the capital or do you want to arrive unannounced?"
"Aye tell him I'm coming. And make sure their's enough ale for the men when we get there." Bijorn replied. Deep within his body, he felt the fire grow with in him, the fire he had not felt in a long time. The fire to protect his daughter.
"Yes, brother," Rollo replied with a small bow of the head. "it shall be done."
AN: More World Building HO! Also, I'm back!
The Assassin Miniturn
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
The Assassin Miniturn
"So… how is she?" Nicholas asked as he sat down across from you. You had just taken Zima to her quarters where she would be staying for the next couple of nights until your wedding.
"She's fine." You replied. Maybe it was a little evasive, but you had no way of really describing her.
Nicholas chuckled. "Aye… And in what ways is she fine to you?" You blushed, your cheeks becoming a bright shade of scarlet. The old man continued to laugh. "You don't have to tell me. I can just bring the lads in and have them-"
"No, you will not." You stated sternly. There was still a grin on Nicholas' face. "What?" You asked.
"Oh to be young and enamored by a woman you've barely met." Nicholas' smile then vanished, being replaced by a narrower gaze, one filled with regret. Like he would give anything to change the outcome of what happened. "You know," His voice was soft and wistful. "I'm going to give you a fair warning. The same warning I gave your father. Don't try and force her to love you."
"Why should I not try to get her to love me?" You asked. "She is my wife."
"Aye, she is…" Nicholas leaned back in the chair and gave a weary sign. "But just because she is your wife does not mean she loves you. She barely even knows you. So take it slow, otherwise, she will dread every moment she is around you."
"Why are you telling me this?" You asked.
"Your father was a very lonely man when he was married to his wife. Natalia was her name." Nicholas replied.
"What was Natalia like?" You asked.
"Not so different from the woman that your marrying." Rurik gave a sigh. "She was distant, cold, and every time he tried to speak with her. He tried to gain her affections through gifts and flattery, but Natalia never liked being a doll. She thought her husband would treat her better than her tutors and her mother… But he didn't."
"How do you know this?" You asked.
"I'm the one she confided in…" There were tears in Nicholas' eyes. "I didn't know how to help her, and she ran away to the east…" Nicholas put his hand on your desk. "I wanted to tell your father but I didn't. And when he found out about what I knew, I left." You glared at Nicholas, having no idea what to say. "I spent fifteen years looking for her, thinking if I found her I'd redeem myself in your father's eyes… But it doesn't matter anymore. Your father is dead, and all I can do now is help you."
He wiped his eyes with his gloved hand than he barked. "GET DOWN!"
You followed his orders immediately as the window was bashed open, glass flying everywhere as a hooded figure, cloaked in black and green and wielding two sharp daggers, revealed himself. He landed on your desk, knocking over a candle and lighting the paperwork you were working on fire.
That bastard! It took you most of the day to finish that paperwork, you were working on was assignments from the Imperial University of Paris! It took months for them to get here and now it was being completely burned away by some unclothed assassin who was trying to kill you.
Rage of An Old Soldier: 1D100 => 47 vs 1D100 => 28
Thankfully Nicholas wasted no time to stop the man trying to kill you, as he reached under the table and flipped it, letting loose an animalistic scream. The assassin jumped back, trying to regain his balance, but Nicholas jumped over and punched him. He then grabbed the assassin's right arm and squeezed it until the knife clattered to the floor.
But the assassin's other hand still had a blade in it, and in a desperate move, he slashed wildly at Nicholas.
"Run!" Nicholas ordered, his voice strained as he caught the blade in his side. The slash wasn't as deep or bad as you had seen before, but it looked like it hurt.
You needed no more encouragement than that. You did not have a weapon and besides the tiny slash on Nicholas's slide, he looked like he could handle one measly assassin. Hopefully.
You opened the door and barreled right into Natasha, who was armed to the teeth. Her fiery red hair was uncovered and tied back in some sort of bun. On her chest was an array of throwing daggers, a short sword was strapped to her thigh, and on her back was a crossbow with a quiver of bolts.
"Are you okay?" She asked as she pushed you aside and threw a knife at the assassin attacking Nicholas.
"Uh… I'm fine." You replied. "Where's Zima?"
O Daughter of Poland: 1D100 => 44 vs 1D100 => 1
There was a shrill cry in the air as Zima burst out of her room, saber, and warhammer in hand, tackling the assassin into the stone wall. You could see the assassin's eyes widen in pain and surprise before your future wife split his chest open. And then proceed to brutalize the corpse.
"Nevermind…" You looked at Natasha. "So, who are these assassins?"
"The Black Hand, a Serbian based assassin group. Amateurs compared to the widows, no sense of subtly." Natasha replied as you heard footsteps coming towards you. "All they do is throw bodies at the problem instead of trying to actually assassinate them. They are mostly used to send a message whenever a lord is getting rebellious sentiments."
"And what message would that be?" You asked.
"You have been marked for death." She replied. "And that there will be more coming after you if they fail."
"That's terrific… Who hired them?" You asked.
"I don't know… Let's ask one."
You turned to see it was your bodyguards running towards you, weapons in hand and ready to fight.
"We heard screams." Wilhelm stated.
"No shit." You replied as Gavin handed over his sword. "What are we looking at?"
"There are ten more, and we have an archer in the western tower cutting off all escape routes." Jory replied.
"Where are the other ten?" You asked.
"Right behind us.." Ashford replied, trying to catch his breath.
"Good, It means we won't have to look for them." You looked at Gavin. "Gavin, can you deal with that archer?"
"Aye." He said as he ran into your office.
"Okay, everyone else sticks together." You replied as you drew your sword.
Turning around, you saw ten similarly dressed men in cloaks and hoods, armed with a variety of weapons. They reeked of blood and shit.
"Grand Prince Vasily Aristov of the Rus… You have been marked for death." The center one, the leader you think, spoke. "Surrender and we will make your death peaceful and dignified."
You shouted in anger. "Who sent you?!" Your blood was boiling as your grip on your sword tightened.
"Your question cannot be answered." The center assassin spoke. "The only choice you have is death."
"Than come at me like men!" Your scream was like that of a man enraged.
There was a moment of silence as everyone processed what you just said, before both your people and the assassins charged down the dimly lit hallway. Despite what you though, it didn't devolve into a fierce clashing melee. The strikes from the assassins were careful and deliberate as if they only wanted to use the quickest motions possible to kill.
But you found yourself in front of the leader of the assassins, his sword catching on your blade.
"You will die." He whispered.
Personal Combat roll one: 1D20 => 14+23=37 vs 1D20 => 3+14=17
You wasted no time in working against his defenses. You were young and you were fast, and his defensive stance, sturdy as it may be, was no match for your onslaught and flurry of strikes.
In almost a moment, it was over. Your eyes spotted a tiny in his defenses that was open and took it.
Your blade hit its mark and the man crumpled, gasping for breath as he clutched his side. A moment later, he fell to the floor, either dead or unconscious
How is the Gang doing:1D100 => 90 vs 1D100 => 24
Your bodyguards and future wife had killed all of them in the time it took you to finish that assassin. The walls were stained with blood, all of it the enemy's.
But it was over. There was groaning from the assassin you had fought. He was bleeding…. Dying.
You walked over and picked him up. "WHO SENT YOU!?" You screamed.
"I'm going to die, boy. Telling you would take away the satisfaction of meeting you in hell." The assassin coughed. "Natasha, tell me. How does it feel being a servant of a boy again?"
"Better than it was serving Gavilo." She replied.
"HA HA!" The Assassin coughed blood onto your face. "He will die. Just like all the others."
Natasha shook visibly. "Kill him, Vasily."
"What?" You asked.
"Wait, hold on, he knows who hired him?" Jory replied. "We can't kill him."
"He's more dangerous alive then he is dead. We need to kill him." Natasha replied.
"Why?" You asked. "Tell me why?"
"Just trust me," Natasha replied. "There are things that I can't say to you. But if he lives, everyone here will die."
What do you do:
[]Kill him: Natasha is terrified of him being alive, you'll happily slit his throat.
[]Keep him alive: You are going to get the name of who hired him.
AN: Here is the Miniturn. Have two omakes for being gone for so long.
"So… how is she?" Nicholas asked as he sat down across from you. You had just taken Zima to her quarters where she would be staying for the next couple of nights until your wedding.
"She's fine." You replied. Maybe it was a little evasive, but you had no way of really describing her.
Nicholas chuckled. "Aye… And in what ways is she fine to you?" You blushed, your cheeks becoming a bright shade of scarlet. The old man continued to laugh. "You don't have to tell me. I can just bring the lads in and have them-"
"No, you will not." You stated sternly. There was still a grin on Nicholas' face. "What?" You asked.
"Oh to be young and enamored by a woman you've barely met." Nicholas' smile then vanished, being replaced by a narrower gaze, one filled with regret. Like he would give anything to change the outcome of what happened. "You know," His voice was soft and wistful. "I'm going to give you a fair warning. The same warning I gave your father. Don't try and force her to love you."
"Why should I not try to get her to love me?" You asked. "She is my wife."
"Aye, she is…" Nicholas leaned back in the chair and gave a weary sign. "But just because she is your wife does not mean she loves you. She barely even knows you. So take it slow, otherwise, she will dread every moment she is around you."
"Why are you telling me this?" You asked.
"Your father was a very lonely man when he was married to his wife. Natalia was her name." Nicholas replied.
"What was Natalia like?" You asked.
"Not so different from the woman that your marrying." Rurik gave a sigh. "She was distant, cold, and every time he tried to speak with her. He tried to gain her affections through gifts and flattery, but Natalia never liked being a doll. She thought her husband would treat her better than her tutors and her mother… But he didn't."
"How do you know this?" You asked.
"I'm the one she confided in…" There were tears in Nicholas' eyes. "I didn't know how to help her, and she ran away to the east…" Nicholas put his hand on your desk. "I wanted to tell your father but I didn't. And when he found out about what I knew, I left." You glared at Nicholas, having no idea what to say. "I spent fifteen years looking for her, thinking if I found her I'd redeem myself in your father's eyes… But it doesn't matter anymore. Your father is dead, and all I can do now is help you."
He wiped his eyes with his gloved hand than he barked. "GET DOWN!"
You followed his orders immediately as the window was bashed open, glass flying everywhere as a hooded figure, cloaked in black and green and wielding two sharp daggers, revealed himself. He landed on your desk, knocking over a candle and lighting the paperwork you were working on fire.
That bastard! It took you most of the day to finish that paperwork, you were working on was assignments from the Imperial University of Paris! It took months for them to get here and now it was being completely burned away by some unclothed assassin who was trying to kill you.
Rage of An Old Soldier: 1D100 => 47 vs 1D100 => 28
Thankfully Nicholas wasted no time to stop the man trying to kill you, as he reached under the table and flipped it, letting loose an animalistic scream. The assassin jumped back, trying to regain his balance, but Nicholas jumped over and punched him. He then grabbed the assassin's right arm and squeezed it until the knife clattered to the floor.
But the assassin's other hand still had a blade in it, and in a desperate move, he slashed wildly at Nicholas.
"Run!" Nicholas ordered, his voice strained as he caught the blade in his side. The slash wasn't as deep or bad as you had seen before, but it looked like it hurt.
You needed no more encouragement than that. You did not have a weapon and besides the tiny slash on Nicholas's slide, he looked like he could handle one measly assassin. Hopefully.
You opened the door and barreled right into Natasha, who was armed to the teeth. Her fiery red hair was uncovered and tied back in some sort of bun. On her chest was an array of throwing daggers, a short sword was strapped to her thigh, and on her back was a crossbow with a quiver of bolts.
"Are you okay?" She asked as she pushed you aside and threw a knife at the assassin attacking Nicholas.
"Uh… I'm fine." You replied. "Where's Zima?"
O Daughter of Poland: 1D100 => 44 vs 1D100 => 1
There was a shrill cry in the air as Zima burst out of her room, saber, and warhammer in hand, tackling the assassin into the stone wall. You could see the assassin's eyes widen in pain and surprise before your future wife split his chest open. And then proceed to brutalize the corpse.
"Nevermind…" You looked at Natasha. "So, who are these assassins?"
"The Black Hand, a Serbian based assassin group. Amateurs compared to the widows, no sense of subtly." Natasha replied as you heard footsteps coming towards you. "All they do is throw bodies at the problem instead of trying to actually assassinate them. They are mostly used to send a message whenever a lord is getting rebellious sentiments."
"And what message would that be?" You asked.
"You have been marked for death." She replied. "And that there will be more coming after you if they fail."
"That's terrific… Who hired them?" You asked.
"I don't know… Let's ask one."
You turned to see it was your bodyguards running towards you, weapons in hand and ready to fight.
"We heard screams." Wilhelm stated.
"No shit." You replied as Gavin handed over his sword. "What are we looking at?"
"There are ten more, and we have an archer in the western tower cutting off all escape routes." Jory replied.
"Where are the other ten?" You asked.
"Right behind us.." Ashford replied, trying to catch his breath.
"Good, It means we won't have to look for them." You looked at Gavin. "Gavin, can you deal with that archer?"
"Aye." He said as he ran into your office.
"Okay, everyone else sticks together." You replied as you drew your sword.
Turning around, you saw ten similarly dressed men in cloaks and hoods, armed with a variety of weapons. They reeked of blood and shit.
"Grand Prince Vasily Aristov of the Rus… You have been marked for death." The center one, the leader you think, spoke. "Surrender and we will make your death peaceful and dignified."
You shouted in anger. "Who sent you?!" Your blood was boiling as your grip on your sword tightened.
"Your question cannot be answered." The center assassin spoke. "The only choice you have is death."
"Than come at me like men!" Your scream was like that of a man enraged.
There was a moment of silence as everyone processed what you just said, before both your people and the assassins charged down the dimly lit hallway. Despite what you though, it didn't devolve into a fierce clashing melee. The strikes from the assassins were careful and deliberate as if they only wanted to use the quickest motions possible to kill.
But you found yourself in front of the leader of the assassins, his sword catching on your blade.
"You will die." He whispered.
Personal Combat roll one: 1D20 => 14+23=37 vs 1D20 => 3+14=17
You wasted no time in working against his defenses. You were young and you were fast, and his defensive stance, sturdy as it may be, was no match for your onslaught and flurry of strikes.
In almost a moment, it was over. Your eyes spotted a tiny in his defenses that was open and took it.
Your blade hit its mark and the man crumpled, gasping for breath as he clutched his side. A moment later, he fell to the floor, either dead or unconscious
How is the Gang doing:1D100 => 90 vs 1D100 => 24
Your bodyguards and future wife had killed all of them in the time it took you to finish that assassin. The walls were stained with blood, all of it the enemy's.
But it was over. There was groaning from the assassin you had fought. He was bleeding…. Dying.
You walked over and picked him up. "WHO SENT YOU!?" You screamed.
"I'm going to die, boy. Telling you would take away the satisfaction of meeting you in hell." The assassin coughed. "Natasha, tell me. How does it feel being a servant of a boy again?"
"Better than it was serving Gavilo." She replied.
"HA HA!" The Assassin coughed blood onto your face. "He will die. Just like all the others."
Natasha shook visibly. "Kill him, Vasily."
"What?" You asked.
"Wait, hold on, he knows who hired him?" Jory replied. "We can't kill him."
"He's more dangerous alive then he is dead. We need to kill him." Natasha replied.
"Why?" You asked. "Tell me why?"
"Just trust me," Natasha replied. "There are things that I can't say to you. But if he lives, everyone here will die."
What do you do:
[]Kill him: Natasha is terrified of him being alive, you'll happily slit his throat.
[]Keep him alive: You are going to get the name of who hired him.
AN: Here is the Miniturn. Have two omakes for being gone for so long.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
Still can't shake the RWBY, can you?
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Nope.Still can't shake the RWBY, can you?