Eh, I'll think about it.
Sauron's Won, Time to Run - Dynasty Quest
- Thread starter GeneralXanatos
- Start date
Eh, I'll think about it.
Yep. My main computer is completely fried for some reason. No idea why. But the full system recovery didn't help, and I've done everything I can think of.
So, I'll be working on my old as fuck laptop for the foreseeable future, as I don't currently have the funds to replace my main.
Also, economics is half way done.
So, I'll be working on my old as fuck laptop for the foreseeable future, as I don't currently have the funds to replace my main.
Also, economics is half way done.
Entering into final draft. Also, still working on the build list.
Update 3
Year 1,Turn 1, Week 1, 20th of June 3019.
Camaenor frowns slightly at his surroundings. While he wouldn't deny the land around him was beautiful, this did little to settle his sadness and irritation. Women, men and children alike wept daily, or stared blankly into the camp fires, likely remembering the horrors they fled from and the loved ones they lost.
The camps were places of abject misery, not that he could blame the denizens, and anger was swiftly starting to take hold of the populace. Especially after he had to put a guard on the alcohol stores. The supplies were limited enough without people breaking in and stealing what they could carry. Fortunately, none seemed angry enough to test the guards after the...incident.
Incidentally, the men that had stolen from the stores still couldn't look any of the guards in the eyes. Whatever punishment Malgelir had carried out on them seems to have been sufficiently embarrassing...or painful.
The wider ranging patrols ran into few problems, the only threats they had met so far being only bears, wolves, and strange cat like creatures. Fortunately, it seemed the local wildlife shied away from the large groups of men, and no one seemed to inhabit these mountains. Or, at least, your patrols hadn't yet run into anyone who did.
'That's something to be thankful for at least.' The former captain of Gondor thinks, silently thanking Eru for small mercies. Hopefully, if they did have some neighbors, they'd be better than the Dunlendings or Men of the South or the Men of Rhun....Though given their luck, it was likely they'd meet some foul creation or servant of Morgoth or Sauron soon enough.
Camaenor sighs softly, before continuing his rounds. Just a few more posts to check, and he could go back to bed...
Malgelir glared out at the waters before him, only to blink as the sea water and air assaulted his face.
A few days before he ended up leading the remaining ships on patrol, he and his men had scoured the surrounding hills and mountains for any usable resources, and a better spot to set up the camps. While there were plenty of trees, solid ship building material if the fleet needed to be expanded, and a few rich deposits of iron were found, likely much more in the mountains that the dwarves had settled nearby, there wasn't much in the way of immediately settle-able land.
The nearby mountains served as both protection and an irritant. They made patrolling further inland hard, though not impossible, with the only routes through being small goat paths made by someone that was long gone from the area. There were a few valleys in the mountains that everyone could be moved into, but it would be best to leave a settlement near the coast, if only to care for the fleet.
"Captain!" The man in the crow's nest cries, drawing Malgelir out of his thoughts. He looks up, only to see the man pointing to the starboard side of the ship and throws down the telescope. Malgelir catches it, turns, puts the device to his eye, and sees something he had hoped not to, at least not till the refugees had been settled.
Ships. Smaller than the carracks and cogs the refugee fleet had used, galleys by the looks of them. Likely a coastal patrol, hunting for pirates...or pirates. The ships had a coat of arms emblazoned on the sails:
And they were making their way towards the fleet. Malgelir slowly lowers the telescope, and hands it to the man next to him.
"Orders, sir?" One of the men, Orchalon if he remembered right, asks...
[] Orders for the fleet.
'I'm really not made for this.'
Caor thinks silently, pinching his nose in a futile attempt to alleviate his growing headache. It was at times like this he regretted not handing leadership over to Ecthelon.
All around him sat various merchants, representatives from the various peoples, speaking quickly about the various goods you had brought along with you during your flight from Middle Earth and the resources that were at your disposal. Suffice to say, Caor, who had been trained as a warrior and had little patience for much else, was ill equipped to deal with a bunch of soft city dwellers.
What little he gleaned from these little meetings, as Ecthelon was laughing his ugly ass off in the corner while watching his brother try to keep his head above water and discuss business with surly dwarves and cunning traders, was that he had very little to trade with.
What room hadn't been dedicated to stuffing more refugees onto the ships, had been spent on food, furs, and tents. Many people had been forced to abandon most of their valuables during the flight, most only keeping warm clothes and what food they could carry. The only thing of any true value was the iron that had been put on one of the ships at the last minute.
That left what was around the settlement. While the most obvious trading material was lumber, Malgelir had found some iron deposits in the mountains. Tapping those would give this place something of value, and would be good material for the settlements own forges... Once it built some forges of course. The dwarves had only just begun to tap into their mountain. Who knows what they would find in the deep....
Caor sighs again as he listens to the dwarves argue with one of the men of Gondor about...something? He hadn't been paying much attention, as he had begun testing wether or not he could kill his brother with his eyes. Ecthelon merely smiled and waved, before going back to his job of taking notes on what little parchment that had stayed dry on the ships.
The meetings with the farmers were much more bearable. The hobbits and simple folk of Eriador and Gondor were far less annoying than the merchants. Mostly because Caor could follow what the more kindly and agreeable men were saying.
Ultimately, the farmers determine that there shouldn't be any problems making farm land out of the surrounding forests. The land should be fertile enough, and the climate was fairly mild.
On the other hand, their are few animals around that one would be tamable. The various prey animals would provide some meat for your people at least. The only animal that may be vaguely domesticate-able are some large, hairy, cow-like creatures....
Intrigue:
Rivalel, a cousin of Caor that had been put in charge of the scouting parties, frowned slightly as she glared down at her wounded shoulder. The relatively shallow claw marks oozed a little, but there was no reason to worry about it as long as she cleaned it quickly.
The large black cat, which now laid dead at her feet, had caught her off guard. The stealthy animal had been hiding in the trees above her, and had pounced when she had knelt down to look for tracks. If she hadn't heard the branches above her creek under its weight, she'd likely have died.
'At least the beast gave me some challenge.' She thinks somewhat sullenly.
She had worked closely with Malgelir before he had gone to patrol the coasts, and had discovered very little else about the surrounding land afterwards. It appears the refugees had made landfall on an isolated piece of land, as no locals had been encountered yet. The cat had been the most excitement she had had all week.
Still, it had only been a week, and the rangers had yet to range out very far.
'Suppose I should be thankful for that. Better than orcs at least.' She thinks to herself, before picking up the corpse and making her way back to the camp she and her fellow rangers had made nearby.
Ecthelon smiled slightly as he watched the last of the farmers make their way out of his brothers tent. The smile only widened when he watched his brothers head impact the makeshift desk, really a stump roughly carved into the shape of a desk, in front of him.
"Well. That was a fun meeting, wasn't it Caor?" The mauled man asks, snickering silently when he hears his brother silently begin cursing him.
Caor sighs slightly, before turning a small glare on his brother.
"Enough. You've mocked me enough today, little brother." Caor growls out in good humor, before rising from his seated position.
He grabs hold of the ale jug he had set aside for the meeting, more for his own benefit than anyone else, and refills his and his brothers small mugs.
Taking a drink of his own ale, silently savoring the small burning sensation, Caor frowns as he looks down at his mug, so not to make eye contact with his brother.
"How goes the task I assigned you?" The man asks seriously.
Ecthelon grimaces, looking down into his own mug. While he had never protested out loud, Caor was well aware how this mission affected his little brother.
Ecthelon had ever been an honest and forthright man, and the subterfuge made him uneasy. Still, he was the only man Caor trusted with the task.
"...Malgelir has no family, and few friends. While he has some respect for us, he has no loyalty. We are not of the line of Isildur, nor the line of stewards. Therefore, we are not worthy to lead the Gondorians. I do not yet know if he plans to act on these feelings, but I find it likely he will be thorn in our side." Ecthelon says coldly, as he had not enjoyed being made to spy on their allies.
"And Camaenor?" Caor asks, as his eyes slide shut. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't expected that. Malgelir had always been gruff with the Dunedain and Eridorians, though Caor had hoped that was merely a discomfort that would pass. Apparently, that hope was in vane.
"Loyal, as far as I can tell. He's friends with Malgelir, but I don't know if he'd follow him. He has a younger sister and two younger brothers. He is greatly respected by his men, where Malgelir is not." Ecthelon responds, looking down in shame. It was one thing to spy on a man like Malgelir, but quite another to do the same to a man like Camaenor.
Caor hums quietly, thinking over his brothers words. He pats his brother on the shoulder, finally seeking eye contact. He still nearly flinches at his brothers face, even if he had been slowly growing used to it.
"I know this was not easy for you. You have my thanks, little brother. I'll leave Camaenor unmolested for now." Caor says, smiling weakly in reassurance.
"And Malgelir?" Ecthelon asks warily.
Caor frowns, and looks down into his ale once more...
Diplomacy:
As the locals have yet to be found, these orders are somewhat worthless. Still, a diplomatic party is prepared, with Ecthelon volunteering to lead it when the time comes.
(Minor bonus to diplomacy rolls later.)
With the rangers and Malgelir's men working together, several potential settlement spots are found. The valleys in the mountains are the most attractive, as they would effectively hide the eventual villages and towns.
One in particular would serve as a good defensive position, with only two apparent entrances into the small river valley.
Personal:
Caor spends the week trying to raise the spirits of the population. He eats with them, speaks with them, spends time in the healing tents and patches up as many people as he can. He walks within the camps, speaking soft, silent words of comfort and encouragement to those that seem most in need.
He also goes out on patrols with the rangers and Camaenor's men, trying to strike up a friendly accord with the latter while reinforcing an already strong relationship with the former.
At the end of the week, it seems he was somewhat successful. While the gondorians are still somewhat gruff with him, at least some of the more suspicious ones have stopped glaring at him and the other Dunedain.
The dwarves had already moved from the camps and into the nearby mountains, and had started carving out their own home within the thick stone. Still, Caor maintains a close relationship with the dwarven leader, Gnauthðr.
While the elderly dwarf isn't particularly friendly, and is as gruff as a dwarf can be, he tends to at least entertains and offers safe haven to the Dunedain when their patrols pass nearby the dwarven settlement.
Caor also makes a friend in a younger hobbit by the name of Podo Sandybanks. While only barely of age when the hobbits are concerned, the man provides some much needed cheer to the camps. Much the same could be said of the all the hobbits, as the cheerful folk, even when faced with such dark times, still manage to find some joy in life. Such as it is.
===
Finally done. Thanks are due to @drexal15, my awesome beta and co-gm, for keeping me on task.
[X] The Gondorian captains should be able to coordinate and delegate the duties for setting up the camps security as well. They should make it a point to not engage any natives aggressively if possible.
Camaenor frowns slightly at his surroundings. While he wouldn't deny the land around him was beautiful, this did little to settle his sadness and irritation. Women, men and children alike wept daily, or stared blankly into the camp fires, likely remembering the horrors they fled from and the loved ones they lost.
The camps were places of abject misery, not that he could blame the denizens, and anger was swiftly starting to take hold of the populace. Especially after he had to put a guard on the alcohol stores. The supplies were limited enough without people breaking in and stealing what they could carry. Fortunately, none seemed angry enough to test the guards after the...incident.
Incidentally, the men that had stolen from the stores still couldn't look any of the guards in the eyes. Whatever punishment Malgelir had carried out on them seems to have been sufficiently embarrassing...or painful.
The wider ranging patrols ran into few problems, the only threats they had met so far being only bears, wolves, and strange cat like creatures. Fortunately, it seemed the local wildlife shied away from the large groups of men, and no one seemed to inhabit these mountains. Or, at least, your patrols hadn't yet run into anyone who did.
'That's something to be thankful for at least.' The former captain of Gondor thinks, silently thanking Eru for small mercies. Hopefully, if they did have some neighbors, they'd be better than the Dunlendings or Men of the South or the Men of Rhun....Though given their luck, it was likely they'd meet some foul creation or servant of Morgoth or Sauron soon enough.
Camaenor sighs softly, before continuing his rounds. Just a few more posts to check, and he could go back to bed...
[X] Have the Gondorian captains help gather the most able-bodied and scour the hills, forests and coasts immediately for any dangers and possible resources for weapons that can be made if needed. Ships should explore the local waters for any dangers. The rest are backup for scouts exploring further inland for more hospitable areas to settle the refugees.
Malgelir glared out at the waters before him, only to blink as the sea water and air assaulted his face.
A few days before he ended up leading the remaining ships on patrol, he and his men had scoured the surrounding hills and mountains for any usable resources, and a better spot to set up the camps. While there were plenty of trees, solid ship building material if the fleet needed to be expanded, and a few rich deposits of iron were found, likely much more in the mountains that the dwarves had settled nearby, there wasn't much in the way of immediately settle-able land.
The nearby mountains served as both protection and an irritant. They made patrolling further inland hard, though not impossible, with the only routes through being small goat paths made by someone that was long gone from the area. There were a few valleys in the mountains that everyone could be moved into, but it would be best to leave a settlement near the coast, if only to care for the fleet.
"Captain!" The man in the crow's nest cries, drawing Malgelir out of his thoughts. He looks up, only to see the man pointing to the starboard side of the ship and throws down the telescope. Malgelir catches it, turns, puts the device to his eye, and sees something he had hoped not to, at least not till the refugees had been settled.
Ships. Smaller than the carracks and cogs the refugee fleet had used, galleys by the looks of them. Likely a coastal patrol, hunting for pirates...or pirates. The ships had a coat of arms emblazoned on the sails:
And they were making their way towards the fleet. Malgelir slowly lowers the telescope, and hands it to the man next to him.
"Orders, sir?" One of the men, Orchalon if he remembered right, asks...
[] Orders for the fleet.
[X] See if there are traders or merchants that can assist you in ascertaining/recording if there's anything on board, in the hills, or forests that would be beneficial for trade, who can help in organizing resources, and who can coordinate trade in case contact with the natives is made.
'I'm really not made for this.'
Caor thinks silently, pinching his nose in a futile attempt to alleviate his growing headache. It was at times like this he regretted not handing leadership over to Ecthelon.
All around him sat various merchants, representatives from the various peoples, speaking quickly about the various goods you had brought along with you during your flight from Middle Earth and the resources that were at your disposal. Suffice to say, Caor, who had been trained as a warrior and had little patience for much else, was ill equipped to deal with a bunch of soft city dwellers.
What little he gleaned from these little meetings, as Ecthelon was laughing his ugly ass off in the corner while watching his brother try to keep his head above water and discuss business with surly dwarves and cunning traders, was that he had very little to trade with.
What room hadn't been dedicated to stuffing more refugees onto the ships, had been spent on food, furs, and tents. Many people had been forced to abandon most of their valuables during the flight, most only keeping warm clothes and what food they could carry. The only thing of any true value was the iron that had been put on one of the ships at the last minute.
That left what was around the settlement. While the most obvious trading material was lumber, Malgelir had found some iron deposits in the mountains. Tapping those would give this place something of value, and would be good material for the settlements own forges... Once it built some forges of course. The dwarves had only just begun to tap into their mountain. Who knows what they would find in the deep....
Caor sighs again as he listens to the dwarves argue with one of the men of Gondor about...something? He hadn't been paying much attention, as he had begun testing wether or not he could kill his brother with his eyes. Ecthelon merely smiled and waved, before going back to his job of taking notes on what little parchment that had stayed dry on the ships.
[X] Assess if any farmers that can start crops from the seed-stock on board and begin farming some of the safer animals found in the area.
The meetings with the farmers were much more bearable. The hobbits and simple folk of Eriador and Gondor were far less annoying than the merchants. Mostly because Caor could follow what the more kindly and agreeable men were saying.
Ultimately, the farmers determine that there shouldn't be any problems making farm land out of the surrounding forests. The land should be fertile enough, and the climate was fairly mild.
On the other hand, their are few animals around that one would be tamable. The various prey animals would provide some meat for your people at least. The only animal that may be vaguely domesticate-able are some large, hairy, cow-like creatures....
Intrigue:
[X] Send scouts out to observe the dangers of the forests and hills. They are to observe and record the state of the land and to see if it is possible for the refugees to settle further in land. Have them make a note of any weaknesses the natives or animals might have if they are come across.
Rivalel, a cousin of Caor that had been put in charge of the scouting parties, frowned slightly as she glared down at her wounded shoulder. The relatively shallow claw marks oozed a little, but there was no reason to worry about it as long as she cleaned it quickly.
The large black cat, which now laid dead at her feet, had caught her off guard. The stealthy animal had been hiding in the trees above her, and had pounced when she had knelt down to look for tracks. If she hadn't heard the branches above her creek under its weight, she'd likely have died.
'At least the beast gave me some challenge.' She thinks somewhat sullenly.
She had worked closely with Malgelir before he had gone to patrol the coasts, and had discovered very little else about the surrounding land afterwards. It appears the refugees had made landfall on an isolated piece of land, as no locals had been encountered yet. The cat had been the most excitement she had had all week.
Still, it had only been a week, and the rangers had yet to range out very far.
'Suppose I should be thankful for that. Better than orcs at least.' She thinks to herself, before picking up the corpse and making her way back to the camp she and her fellow rangers had made nearby.
[X] Have your brother help you find out what the Gondorian captains are like, who their friends are, if they are planning anything, and their opinions of the both of you with discretion.
Ecthelon smiled slightly as he watched the last of the farmers make their way out of his brothers tent. The smile only widened when he watched his brothers head impact the makeshift desk, really a stump roughly carved into the shape of a desk, in front of him.
"Well. That was a fun meeting, wasn't it Caor?" The mauled man asks, snickering silently when he hears his brother silently begin cursing him.
Caor sighs slightly, before turning a small glare on his brother.
"Enough. You've mocked me enough today, little brother." Caor growls out in good humor, before rising from his seated position.
He grabs hold of the ale jug he had set aside for the meeting, more for his own benefit than anyone else, and refills his and his brothers small mugs.
Taking a drink of his own ale, silently savoring the small burning sensation, Caor frowns as he looks down at his mug, so not to make eye contact with his brother.
"How goes the task I assigned you?" The man asks seriously.
Ecthelon grimaces, looking down into his own mug. While he had never protested out loud, Caor was well aware how this mission affected his little brother.
Ecthelon had ever been an honest and forthright man, and the subterfuge made him uneasy. Still, he was the only man Caor trusted with the task.
"...Malgelir has no family, and few friends. While he has some respect for us, he has no loyalty. We are not of the line of Isildur, nor the line of stewards. Therefore, we are not worthy to lead the Gondorians. I do not yet know if he plans to act on these feelings, but I find it likely he will be thorn in our side." Ecthelon says coldly, as he had not enjoyed being made to spy on their allies.
"And Camaenor?" Caor asks, as his eyes slide shut. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't expected that. Malgelir had always been gruff with the Dunedain and Eridorians, though Caor had hoped that was merely a discomfort that would pass. Apparently, that hope was in vane.
"Loyal, as far as I can tell. He's friends with Malgelir, but I don't know if he'd follow him. He has a younger sister and two younger brothers. He is greatly respected by his men, where Malgelir is not." Ecthelon responds, looking down in shame. It was one thing to spy on a man like Malgelir, but quite another to do the same to a man like Camaenor.
Caor hums quietly, thinking over his brothers words. He pats his brother on the shoulder, finally seeking eye contact. He still nearly flinches at his brothers face, even if he had been slowly growing used to it.
"I know this was not easy for you. You have my thanks, little brother. I'll leave Camaenor unmolested for now." Caor says, smiling weakly in reassurance.
"And Malgelir?" Ecthelon asks warily.
Caor frowns, and looks down into his ale once more...
Diplomacy:
[X] Once the scouts inform you of the state of the land, have someone good at talking and negotiation approach one of the the closer settlements for trade if possible. Have merchants and traders some gifts to immediately warm relations and to help the diplomat establish trade competently. A small group of the military should also accompany the diplomat for his protection. And a few people good with languages should also accompany the group to get around the language barrier.
As the locals have yet to be found, these orders are somewhat worthless. Still, a diplomatic party is prepared, with Ecthelon volunteering to lead it when the time comes.
(Minor bonus to diplomacy rolls later.)
[X] Look for local areas that would be safe to settle in that would give the refugees enough isolation to be safe but with the possibility to enter negotiation in strength if needed. Disturbing the neighbors should be avoided or minimized.
With the rangers and Malgelir's men working together, several potential settlement spots are found. The valleys in the mountains are the most attractive, as they would effectively hide the eventual villages and towns.
One in particular would serve as a good defensive position, with only two apparent entrances into the small river valley.
Personal:
[X] Give as much words of encouragement to the group, but don't tire out doing so. Try to appeal to the more military geared populace as well.
Caor spends the week trying to raise the spirits of the population. He eats with them, speaks with them, spends time in the healing tents and patches up as many people as he can. He walks within the camps, speaking soft, silent words of comfort and encouragement to those that seem most in need.
He also goes out on patrols with the rangers and Camaenor's men, trying to strike up a friendly accord with the latter while reinforcing an already strong relationship with the former.
At the end of the week, it seems he was somewhat successful. While the gondorians are still somewhat gruff with him, at least some of the more suspicious ones have stopped glaring at him and the other Dunedain.
[X] See what kind of important support, helpful friends you can make among the refugees, and try to get them to help you. Make sure to smooth things over if people start to get argumentative. And try to find specialists help you in their field of work.
The dwarves had already moved from the camps and into the nearby mountains, and had started carving out their own home within the thick stone. Still, Caor maintains a close relationship with the dwarven leader, Gnauthðr.
While the elderly dwarf isn't particularly friendly, and is as gruff as a dwarf can be, he tends to at least entertains and offers safe haven to the Dunedain when their patrols pass nearby the dwarven settlement.
Caor also makes a friend in a younger hobbit by the name of Podo Sandybanks. While only barely of age when the hobbits are concerned, the man provides some much needed cheer to the camps. Much the same could be said of the all the hobbits, as the cheerful folk, even when faced with such dark times, still manage to find some joy in life. Such as it is.
===
Finally done. Thanks are due to @drexal15, my awesome beta and co-gm, for keeping me on task.
The fleet is a few hours out from the camps. So it'd take awhile for a ship to get Caor and Ecthelon.
Also, all write-ins need to be from Malgelir's perspective. Sorry if I wasn't very clear on that front.
Also, all write-ins need to be from Malgelir's perspective. Sorry if I wasn't very clear on that front.
Need a few more votes guys. I'm likely to lock it either sometime tomorrow or Saturday, and I'd like more than one vote before I do so.
Kevin Mackey
Dea Imperator
- Location
- Holy of Holies
[X] Orders for the fleet.
-[X] Have them make no aggressive actions unless the other fleet initiates. They should be on standby.
-[X] Meet the strangers and attempt communications.
-[X] Have them make no aggressive actions unless the other fleet initiates. They should be on standby.
-[X] Meet the strangers and attempt communications.
Oh I am slain!
Wynaut?
- Location
- Tatooine
[X] Orders for the fleet.
-[X] Have them make no aggressive actions unless the other fleet initiates. They should be on standby.
-[X] Meet the strangers and attempt communications.
Yay! Didn't notice there had been a story post.
Dunno if anyone else has checked the heraldry yet, but it seems to be House Melcolm of Old Anchor from the Vale, one of the principal houses sworn to House Arryn. Wiki says that no one from the house has appeared in the regular canon yet. Old Anchor Location.
-[X] Have them make no aggressive actions unless the other fleet initiates. They should be on standby.
-[X] Meet the strangers and attempt communications.
Yay! Didn't notice there had been a story post.
Dunno if anyone else has checked the heraldry yet, but it seems to be House Melcolm of Old Anchor from the Vale, one of the principal houses sworn to House Arryn. Wiki says that no one from the house has appeared in the regular canon yet. Old Anchor Location.
Hmm. Likely to lock the vote at either eight pm cst tonight, or four pm cst tomorrow.
*Cautiously begins poking SV with a stick.*
Also, anyone have any questions about the quest?
Also, anyone have any questions about the quest?
Oh I am slain!
Wynaut?
- Location
- Tatooine
*steals shiny stick to use as primary weapon*
I might think of some questions later. Would it be possible to add the latest post to threadmarks, plus add this quest to your sig? Might not help much, but worth a try.
I might think of some questions later. Would it be possible to add the latest post to threadmarks, plus add this quest to your sig? Might not help much, but worth a try.
Good idea. Both done.
- Location
- Third planet from the star named Sol
- Pronouns
- He/They
Not at the moment, though I'm curious as to what part of Westeros we've landed in.
You guys landed in the Vale. Where in the Vale hasn't been revealed IC yet.
Vote will lock at six pm cst.
Vote lock in hour.
Also. Good news everyone! My main computer is working once more. I have no idea how or why, but it's working again! Huzzah!
Also. Good news everyone! My main computer is working once more. I have no idea how or why, but it's working again! Huzzah!
Main computer is down again. Ran a hardware diagnostic, SMART test failed. And all I'm getting online for that, is that I'm probably going to have to replace my hard drive.
*Is highly annoyed.*
*Is highly annoyed.*
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Oh I am slain!
Wynaut?
- Location
- Tatooine
Hahaha I still had this reply draft saved, and was originally going to post it yesterday:
...should we start a betting pool for when it'll stop working again?
Should, hopefully, have the update out by the end of the week or beginning of next.
Winds of Change has been updated. (Link in my sig if anyone wants to check it out.)
The update for this should, hopefully, come either today or tomorrow. Depending on how my schedule works out.
The update for this should, hopefully, come either today or tomorrow. Depending on how my schedule works out.
Update 4
[X] Orders for the fleet.
-[X] Have them make no aggressive actions unless the other fleet initiates. They should be on standby.
-[X] Meet the strangers and attempt communications.
---
The small galleys quickly cut through the rough waves towards the fleet. The men on deck shifting nervously, as they eye the approaching ships with ill-contained suspicion and no small amount of dread. They were getting near vessels what were clearly warships, and a single mistake could mean death for all of them from the much larger craft.
Malgelir himself stands at the front of the flagship, which had moved to the front of the fleet. It was only fitting, in his mind, that the captain be at the fore should conflict erupt. One had to be able to motivate, and rally their men for battle, and he did it best leading from the front.
It takes some time for the other fleet to reach Malgelir's, about ten minutes, giving the captain of Gondor plenty of time to calm his nerves. His men quickly followed the example of their leader, doing their best to keep calm under the stress of the situation.
One of the smaller ships tears off from the foreign fleet as the remainder reel their sails and stop as best they can in the increasingly violent ocean. The wind had picked up in ferocity, causing the smaller ships in both fleets to tilt slightly.
The small ship slowly stops next to the flagship of the gondorian fleet. Malgelir smirks slightly at the the comparison. This was one of the few warships that had been given to the refugee fleet, most others either being transport or cargo vessels. While the shipbuilding ability of Gondor had diminished in this late age, a gaervinas, which the crew had taken to calling Gondor's Sorrow, had become an increasingly rare sight.
The large vessel almost dwarfed the galley, being much longer and taller than the foreign ship. The galley itself looked to be a solid ship, though it was being tossed about by the rough wind and the crew probably drowning from the tall waves.
A cry comes out from the galley, and Malgelir leans over the edge of his ship to look down at the strangers that had approached his fleet. Below him, a tall, thin, red haired man waved up at the captain, and tried to yell over the roaring wind. Though Malgelir could not hear him clearly, it was apparent that the man was asking for permission to board.
Malgelir nodded to his men, and a sturdy rope was thrown down to the waving man. The gondorian soldiers quickly help the man up, pulling as soon as they're sure the stranger had a good grip on the rope.
The man stumbles slightly as soon as he's on deck. He looks around for a minute, looking nervously at the armed men, before turning to Malgelir.
"Thank for stopping. I fsd need to fdsfsd sdfdsf. You don't min if I gkfjdg your possessions, right?"
Malgelir merely stares at the man, who had begun speaking in the most atrocious westron he had ever had the displeasure of hearing. The gondorian captain couldn't understand many of the words the man said, the strange accent not helping at all.
===What do you do?
[X]Try to understand what the man wants, it's obvious that some of his words make sense at least, so hopefully it's possible to reach some level of understanding.
[X] Disarm the man, while he hasn't shown any intent for harm so far, that could change.
[X] Write in.
-[X] Have them make no aggressive actions unless the other fleet initiates. They should be on standby.
-[X] Meet the strangers and attempt communications.
---
The small galleys quickly cut through the rough waves towards the fleet. The men on deck shifting nervously, as they eye the approaching ships with ill-contained suspicion and no small amount of dread. They were getting near vessels what were clearly warships, and a single mistake could mean death for all of them from the much larger craft.
Malgelir himself stands at the front of the flagship, which had moved to the front of the fleet. It was only fitting, in his mind, that the captain be at the fore should conflict erupt. One had to be able to motivate, and rally their men for battle, and he did it best leading from the front.
It takes some time for the other fleet to reach Malgelir's, about ten minutes, giving the captain of Gondor plenty of time to calm his nerves. His men quickly followed the example of their leader, doing their best to keep calm under the stress of the situation.
One of the smaller ships tears off from the foreign fleet as the remainder reel their sails and stop as best they can in the increasingly violent ocean. The wind had picked up in ferocity, causing the smaller ships in both fleets to tilt slightly.
The small ship slowly stops next to the flagship of the gondorian fleet. Malgelir smirks slightly at the the comparison. This was one of the few warships that had been given to the refugee fleet, most others either being transport or cargo vessels. While the shipbuilding ability of Gondor had diminished in this late age, a gaervinas, which the crew had taken to calling Gondor's Sorrow, had become an increasingly rare sight.
The large vessel almost dwarfed the galley, being much longer and taller than the foreign ship. The galley itself looked to be a solid ship, though it was being tossed about by the rough wind and the crew probably drowning from the tall waves.
A cry comes out from the galley, and Malgelir leans over the edge of his ship to look down at the strangers that had approached his fleet. Below him, a tall, thin, red haired man waved up at the captain, and tried to yell over the roaring wind. Though Malgelir could not hear him clearly, it was apparent that the man was asking for permission to board.
Malgelir nodded to his men, and a sturdy rope was thrown down to the waving man. The gondorian soldiers quickly help the man up, pulling as soon as they're sure the stranger had a good grip on the rope.
The man stumbles slightly as soon as he's on deck. He looks around for a minute, looking nervously at the armed men, before turning to Malgelir.
"Thank for stopping. I fsd need to fdsfsd sdfdsf. You don't min if I gkfjdg your possessions, right?"
Malgelir merely stares at the man, who had begun speaking in the most atrocious westron he had ever had the displeasure of hearing. The gondorian captain couldn't understand many of the words the man said, the strange accent not helping at all.
===What do you do?
[X]Try to understand what the man wants, it's obvious that some of his words make sense at least, so hopefully it's possible to reach some level of understanding.
[X] Disarm the man, while he hasn't shown any intent for harm so far, that could change.
[X] Write in.