Introduction & Rules
Always Watching
Definitely NOT an InventCo shill
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Squelchy Violence: A Turnip28 Grand Strategy Roleplaying Game
Gretch moved forward. The world stank and this thrice-damned fog wouldn't lift, but she still moved forward. Every step thus far had been agonizing. Every step further would be even more so. Yet forward she went, one small part of a might column of soldiery. Behind Charles, but before Berty.
The muddy earth beneath her greedily gobbled every last footfall, her latest Blessing had been a weighty one to her right side, ensuring that foot sinks ever deeper once she plunges it down. And made each pull upwards on every other step forward into an effort worthy of a medal. Or at the very least a nice warm meal.
Mmmmm… Phantom images of tasty tasty meats seemed to dance their way across the thin slit of her helm. The thin slit through she could see the back of Charles as he similarly struggled through the wasteland. His own Blessing had made his boots ill-fitting, they weren't meant for feet that wide or toes that dexterous. Ah, but Charles wasn't important right now. What WAS important was Potatish pie… Geets stew… Surprise sausage…
First came the thundercrack, then the impact. The viscera that had been Charles suddenly washes over Gretch, further dampening her already soggy uniform. She wheels around to see the lot of wretches charging forth from the fog, curses and prayers from either side soon filling the air as everyone begins to yell whatever would flit to their minds first.
Gretch's left arm reaches around her neck to clutch the holy hand-shaped parsnip she wore there tight, while her right arm raises the banner of the Radishire Irregulars higher. Her new other right arm and other left arm soon began to affix her bayonet to her rifle. She knew what the order would be even as the congested voice of some Toadie or another bellows it out to what remains of the column.
"Counter-Charge! Counter-Charge!" As Gretch readies herself to do just that, she gets a bit of a lick at some of the Charles in her helm. As wretched as expected. He'd always been a man of poor taste.
Introduction
Turnip28 is a world where inhabitants dreamt up by Heironymous Bosch high on one too many rancid potatoes engage in warfare more at home in a Monty Python skit than a battlefield. The commanders of said battle are advised on their tactics by a thoroughly drunk cadaver of Napoleon and the screaming of root vegetables.
In this game, players will take on the roles of Regiments, zealous bastards dedicated to one esoteric cause or another, as they wage a war over the foul and pockmarked county of Cist. This is a world as stained in character as it is in hope, where your darlings are sure to die a death most brutal for reasons most silly. It is what they do in the interim, the sights they see, the stories they inspire, the Blessings they nurture, and the Burdens they accrue that matters. The stories of Squelchy Violence will be the tales of how your ragamuffin renegades either shamefully suffocated in the swamps of Cist, or accomplished their heart's desire.
While I personally heavily advise you to go out and check the Core Rules and Swollen Magglette Issue 1 (linked here on this Turnip28 patreon post) for a proper look into the world of Turnip28, it is not required to play Squelchy Violence, with the system being chopped and churned into a form more fitting for a more rules-lite, narrative experience. That being said, joining the Squelchy Violence Discord IS necessary to play, if only for the ease in which questions can be fielded, diplomacy conducted, and battles administered. More information on the world of Cist proper is to come. But for now… Let's see what sort of Regiment you can cook up, following 4 principle ingredients you can toss into the pot to give it some unique flavor. Creed, Burdens, Units, and Blessings.
Creed
In Squelchy Violence, Regiments are a collection of violent and pathetic fanatics gathered for a glorious purpose. Most often the veneration of a root vegetable and the bloody suppression of anyone who preaches a different gospel, no matter how minute the difference. Before or perhaps even while you decide what sort of units to fill your Regiment with, keep in mind the Creed of your Regiment.
The Creed will be the preeminent belief of your Regiment. It's what holds them together in the face of panic, the dream they use to inspire raw recruits to replenish the Regiment, and how they cope with living in a world as violent and deranged as Cist. Because the minds of the Cistish aren't exactly steel traps, best to keep the initial outer layer of your Creed to one or two sentences. Even if it has more meaning to it beyond that, you'll need something easily digestible, yet potentially profound to draw people in. Good Creeds can be mission statements for your Regiment, obscure religious beliefs, or a moral doctrine. Great Creeds are all 3.
Units
Troops in a Regiment are usually a ragged and miserable lot, broken up into two categories. The high and mighty Snobs, and their fervent Followers.
From there, Snobs and Followers further diversify. But first, let's start with the Snobs. Armed with only pistols and sabres, Snobs don't typically get their hands dirty, instead preferring to gesture and yell their lessers into positions.
The snobbiest of Snobs is the Toff. This is the leader of your Regiment, the one whose dubious charisma holds the Regiment together. Every Regiment has a Toff and following them leads one to greatness. Or at the very least to a more interesting life than standing around a settlement, waiting to die of disease while they harvest from the Root. Every Regiment starts Squelchy Violence with one Toff, and can only ever have one Toff at a time.
Second in every meaning of the word comes the Toadies. These lickspittles and yes-men of the Toff are the ones who carry out a Toff's orders to the rest of the Regiment and enact their ineffable will. In combat, Toadies act slavishly on the dubious tactical acumen of their betters, following the orders granted to them to the letter. If the Toff should ever fall, one can expect a Toadie to clamber into position and take up the Toff's place in the Creed of the Regiment. Every Regiment starts Squelchy Violence with one Toadie, but more can be gained or replenished by recruiting at cities. More on recruitment later, but keep in mind you can only ever have at most 3 Toadies within a Regiment.
Snobs all start with a number of Followers they can command, depending on the Snob in question. All Toffs are recruited and start the game with 2 units of Followers, Toadies with only 1. Toffs can command up to 4 units of Followers at most, and Toadies 2.
Followers are much more diverse than Snobs, coming in a wide variety of underlings. Their weaponry typically comes in 1 of 3 types. Most common are crude melee weapons such as axes, bayonets or spears. Cruder still if slightly less common for it, missile weapons such as bow, slings, or particularly vicious potatoes are all deadly implements in the right hands. Finally there are the black powder weapons, rusted relics of a lost age. Muskets, blunderbusses, and other things that go boom in their own right.Fodder
The Fodder are the fierce fanatics who won't stop until the enemy has been extinguished or all that can be eaten has been eaten. Usually both. As they march, they grind the world to further muck in their hideous columns at the behest of their strange masters. While compared to the other, more capable Followers below, a collection of Fodder may not seem all that useful or exciting. Until you remember that quantity can be a quality all its own. For every armored brute or daring cavalry unit, there is always the strength of the mob to render it low. A unit of Fodder can also last longer than their contemporaries simply by having more people in their unit to survive getting slaughtered, and can find strength in working with another unit of Fodder as they drown the enemy in bodies. Strength in numbers and all that.
Brutes
Brutes are the elite fighting units, equipped with armor to resist pain and armed with weapons to dish it out. They are also the only baseline Follower that can receive Blessings, a privilege normally reserved for Toffs, on account of them occasionally mustering enough muscle to choke down a holy tuber or two before a commander can get close to seize it for themselves.
Chaff
Chaff are skirmishers and scouts, allowing a Regiment the opportunity to have someone to advance forward and report on dangers while traveling, while also providing some sharpshooting skills whilst in the thick of battle. They might not necessarily hit something from that far away, but they'll certainly get the enemy's attention, and keep it away from more valuable troops!
Next up are those Followers lucky enough to have a mount. The Root has warped the animals of Cist into strange things indeed, and once properly tamed, they serve- Well, if not good, then certainly good enough to ride upon once directed to charge in a given direction. Allowing the rider in question to move faster than their fellows.
Whelps
Whelps are cowards, first and foremost. Using their less than noble steeds to ride into danger, strike once, and then dash off again before the enemy can retaliate. Or at least, that's the plan. More often than not, the Whelp in question often overestimates their speed, underestimates the competency of their targets, and rarely considers the willingness of their mount to peel off after having been urged in one direction for so long. But enough manage to execute this ill-conceived notion that most Whelps carry a brazen confidence they can pull it off again later.
Bastards
Quite unlike the Whelps, Bastards are fierce calvary berserkers. They charge the enemy with their horrifying presence, and will continue pushing through them until they die, the enemy dies, or their Toadie parent finally gives them the oh so coveted Nod Of "You did fine, I guess". The former two are more likely, frankly.
Finally comes the artillery Followers. Of which there is only really one type available to you without taking on a Burden.Stump Gun
The Stump Gun is the terror of the battlefield, and in its prime could have decided wars in its own right. However, it is a long way from its prime. Whether an actual survivor of the times from before the Root, or simply a poor imitation cobbled together in the times that have emerged since, the Stump Gun unit comes with it's own crew of dedicated cannoneers, who once they have been placed onto a battlefield, will refuse to move until the battle is concluded. They would never abandon their precious grumpy darling! Even should it suddenly combust and take them out with it!
In the bitter and stubborn lands of Cist, ideas tend to live longer than the men who would gladly die and kill for them. A Regiment could be slaughtered almost in its entirety, and so long as even the meekest, most pitiable wretch of Fodder manages to get away, that Regiment still lives on. So long as the Creed is spread thoroughly through the hearts, minds, and other such organs of the Regiment, there will be those willing to pass on its blighted philosophy to other minds, recruiting new units from cities, towns, and settlements, or even giving themselves a promotion to Toff should they suddenly lack one.
While this means that a single bad battle won't doom a Regiment, it also means that warfare is a terrible, abrupt, and vicious thing. To truly wipe out a Regiment is to conduct a battle so hideous and visceral that no trace of your enemy can escape.
Burdens
In other games, you might seek to flesh out a faction through a collection of perks and flaws, balancing out the good with the bad. In Squelchy Violence there is only the bad. A Burden is a noticeable flaw that your Regiment carries with them, that impacts the way they conduct themselves and wage war. While mostly negative, one can grow strong and hardy from carrying a Burden, and exploit the opportunity such a weight can create. All Regiments must select one and only one of the sample Burdens from the list below.
- Stranglin' Harry's Wretched Recruitment Manual: Your Regiment has become quite enamored with the writings of one Stranglin' Harry, and have adopted the bellicose drill sergeant's writings as battlefield gospel. While there are one or two solid bits of tactical advice in there, relying on it too much has led to your Toff's strategic thinking becoming stale. At the start of a battle, you'll receive one of Stranglin' Harry's Wretched Tidbits that might fit the situation at hand. Your Regiment will have greater resolve executing a plan that follows this Wretched Tidbit. And have a rougher time doing something original.
- Leery Marchers: Your Regiment has learned that caution is key, and so will often take longer while traveling the lands of Cist. Avoiding hazards, but also the possibility of encountering anything beneficial. You will always arrive where you want to be… But likely very late for any appointments you had.
- Doddering Grogs: One of your Toff's Followers will always be a unit of Grogs, senile old fogies who have "been there and killed that" better than anyone. While this old guard are certainly capable, they can only arrive after a battle has actually started, due to them stubbornly trailing behind all the whippersnappers and youngins.
- Feckless Blunderers: Your Regiment has learned that speed is what decides a battle, and so plunge fearlessly into the wilds of Cist while traveling. While this does mean they're likely to arrive where they intend sooner, it's unlikely for them to do so in one piece.
- Son Of Tod: Your Regiment has made the mistake of hiring a Son of Tod. The original Tod is an infamous amphibian-like mercenary whose quixotic temperament and annoyingly good fortune ensures he's outlasted the multiple Regiments who failed to learn of his "illustrious" career. And quite unfortunately for you, his sons are all near-identical to their foul father. A Son of Tod is an additional Toadie attached to your Regiment who does not come with any Followers in their wake. They will frequently mess up the best laid plans of you and your enemy, yet will always come out of it otherwise unharmed. They cannot become a Toff, instead skedaddling whenever the cash flow stops.
- Infamous Armament: Your Toff has uncovered a weapon most foul and grown quite attached to it. The legacy of this ill-reputed blade/pistol/especially heavy rock hangs over it like a stinking miasma, and will draw attention most unwelcome.
- Verminious Hangers-On: Your Regiment has attracted the adoration of a herd/swarm of root-infested animals who feast on their leavings. The vermin will accompany them from battle to battle, from city to city, infesting and picking at whatever is left in the Regiment's wake. In combat they'll likely get in the way as much as aid, a flood of squeaking, oinking, braying animals taking up space, time, and attention.
- Noble Comportment: Your Toff has always been one for the finer things in life. Mid-afternoon teas, pinkies firmly outstretched. Fine clothes and soft fabrics. Literacy. This gentile behavior suits the would-be lords and ladies of the city just fine, allowing for easier diplomacy with them. But it also tends to rub anyone and anything else the wrong way.
- The Grand Bombard: Your Regiment doesn't just have any Stump Gun in their ranks. They have a Grand Bombard! A true terror of Cist! One of your Toff's Followers will always be a Grand Bombard. Immobile and costly to find proper ammunition for, it is a pain to reload and take with you on campaign, but fire it must, because otherwise was the point of dragging it along in the first place!?
- Homebodies: Your Regiment has in their possession a fort or stronghold. They've become greatly attached to this singular location, whether it be located in the wastes or amidst one of the cities and townships of Cist. They may travel far to accomplish whatever lark the Snobs concoct, but they will do so morosely, lacking the enthusiasm of your average ranging Regiment. They will always long for home, and fight fiercely to return and defend it.
- Foul Hunger: Hunger more than anything truly defines the Citish. Hunger for roots, hunger for glory, always the hunger for something more. For your Regiment, that hunger is deliriously literal. Ready and willing to cannibalize the enemy, each other, and anything that looks even mildly interesting to put in their mouths, your Regiment will never lack for nutrition post-battle, but as a result will always be yearning for something to stuff in their maw, and bellicose because of it.
- Urbane Undesirables: Your Regiment might have had their roots as a street gang before they became a group of marauding pilgrims. More used to gutting people in alleyways and urban fighting than a grand battlefield, your Regiment prefers the cities and towns of Cist to its more rural areas, and will find navigation and diplomacy outside of these areas difficult.
- Rapturous Rootshrine: Your Toff might have quaffed one too many radiant radishes or godly garlics, and has become bloated and insensate. No longer a mere Toff, they have ascended into a Rootshrine, a living holy site to the root and all its manifold glories. Attended to by a clergy of Toadies who interprets the will of the Rootshrine, the Followers of your Regiment have become even more zealous fanatics, charging fearlessly (and often foolishly) into the fray at the behest of their holy relic.
- March Of The Great Big Beast: Your Regiment has come into the reluctant possession of a terrible tyrant. Whether this be a marsh-stalking horror of Cist, a heavily mutated soldier, or a fucking elephant, your Regiment somehow commands a singular unit of great and terrible power. While effective on the battlefield, caring for this creature's diet and other needs is a constant headache, and if not done so correctly, could lead the Great Big Beast to bite that hand that won't feed it. One of your Toadies commands a Great Big Beast Follower unit. That Toadie cannot command any other Follower units.
- The Vegetable Growers Association: Your Regiment comes equipped with a group of non-combative Gardeners, fanatic farmers who know exactly how to coax the mud and grime of Cist into potent farmland for their root clippings. They travel with your Regiment in search of prime farmland so as to grow a tuber worthy of a Red Ribbon, and so the Gardeners will help keep your Regiment well-fed as they accompany you. While this does eliminate one worry from your list of woes concerning your Regiment's resources, it does mean that their concerns will frequently inform your decision making on where to take your band of reprobates next. Ignore their grumblings too frequently, and they may just decide to switch sides for a Regiment more receptive to their demands.
- Concealed Cretinous Crustacean: You've seen it in the distance, stalking your Regiment ever since that ill-conceived expedition to the Southern Marshes. Ever since it got its first taste of you, it seems to have gained an appreciation for your robust flavor and now harries you wherever you go. Now you're seeing it emerging from the ground, snapping its claws and chattering its mandibles in mad reverie. Your Regiment is being pursued by a great big Scuttler, a crab that will spring from the marshes of Cist in the middle of a battle and start wreaking havoc on friend and foe alike. Its primary objective however, remains the consumption of your Toff and all their tasty tasty Blessings.
- Unburdened: Oh, too good for Burdens now, are we? Well excuse me your majesty, but it seems whether you've gone and lost all your Burdens through happenstance or by deliberately picking this option at game start, you've found yourself bereft of any Burdens. Right, well. Due to your soldiery being average slobs, you'll find traveling Cist to be a bit easier. And that battles with REAL Regiments with REAL Burdens to carry are a tad more difficult.
These sample Burdens aren't the only Burdens that exist in Cist, but are the only ones that players can start with. Burdens can also be gathered by winning important battles, completing objectives relevant to your Creed, or through performing favors for the rulers of Cities and Towns across Cist. Keep in mind however, many a Regiment has fallen not to the enemy, but by simply being too overburdened with their own flaws to continue, vanishing into the swamps of Cist with naught to show for it but a good yarn passed around at taverns.
Blessings
Across Cist, most vegetables that are harvested are simply mesmerizing meals that fill the head of the eater with religious awe to the roots they originated from. But some rare, blessed roots contain within them the divinity of the original root, the one that transformed the world into the squelchy war-ridden land it is today. Once consumed, they transform the eater in a myriad of ways, granting them Blessings that shift their physiology in unknown ways. Some changes are minute, an extra eye or a strange new limb, while others are drastically different.
Take the master Toff tactician Von Sneg for instance. Once a combative and handsome genius, Von Sneg found himself made even more handsome by downing a paternal potato, transforming him into a collection of ambulatory toes that still contain his battlefield prowess. They just now require a translator in the form of Weezel, Von Sneg's right hand.
Pursuing Blessings is for many Toffs the entire reason why they formed a Regiment in the first place, covetous of the power and insight that can be revealed only by consuming the holy tubers that emerge from the muck of Cist. While no player can start with a Blessing, accruing the vegetables that grant them is a worthy pursuit.
Only two types of units can receive Blessings, Toffs and Brutes, though the type of Blessings they receive is not so equal. Brutes tend to gain simple Blessings, ones that simply increase their capability in battle. Toffs, meanwhile, can gain both simpler Blessings and stranger Blessings. Ones that shift their mind and body into drastic new forms and reveal new truths about Cist that may allow them to pursue their Creed more effectively.
Orders
Turns of Squelchy Violence are only about a week in length in-game, as the battles of Cist are often quick and frequent, and there frankly isn't that much land to cover in terms of scale. You can get roughly anywhere in Cist in about a week's march, two if you intend to go from one end of the map to another. Though the majority of that will mostly be spent navigating, running into dangers, and posing a danger to others.
Orders must be constrained to 300 words, sent via DMs on SV to the GM, and can be used to perform one action per Snob present in your Regiment. An action can be used to do anything, from gathering information inside a urban area, traveling across Cist, planning an attack, recruitment of fresh blood, replenishment of your forces, building a fortification, learning or spreading rumors, and far more.
Once combat has started, players will be given an overview of the battlefield (depending on their preparations and the situation of said battlefield, additional information might be withheld or given) and asked for 200 word orders that will contain their strategy for the battle in question.
Resolving the outcome of both combat and more mundane actions is the task of the GM, who will post Battle Reports and Reports to reveal the outcome of those respective situations.
The County Of Cist
Cist is a land home to many strange and unpleasant things, not least of which is your very own Regiment. What follows is the only map of Cist that has ever been made:
Isn't it lovely?
Well, to be more accurate, what you're looking at is a copy of a copy of a copy, with the original having been locked away for one obtuse reason or another. New cities like Grint or towns like Blattenwall have since emerged from the muck after the map's creation while some just wasn't tracked properly the first time a cartographer traveled through an area. Though the map isn't completely useless either. Just unable to track things perfectly.
With an out of date map, bitter inhabitants, wandering rivals, and a hostile landscape, it's no wonder that travel is so dangerous in Cist. Actions to travel from one place to another will often resolve in strange occurrences, some harmful, some beneficial, and most just plain weird. It is rare for a trip to go exactly as planned in Cist, and you may find yourself queried mid-turn and presented with a conundrum to solve before your Regiment goes on their not-so-merry way.
Accurate information is hard to come by with travel being as difficult as it is. The closest thing to an information pipeline are messenger companies that travel on behalf of the bullish leaders of settlements and cities, the gossip circuits of the peasantry, and Regiments themselves spreading tales at taverns. While large events and the deeds of particularly note-worthy Regiments (foul or fair) will be shouted from the roofs of Geets and travel Cist quickly, smaller events and less interesting stories will fail to gain traction outside of immediate settlements.
The best bet you have on staying informed is by spending an action to Rumor-Monger in a settlement of some kind, learning of strange creatures, fascinating new vegetables, and the locations of Regiments that do their very best to remain hidden from the prying eyes of their peers. Rumor-Mongering also affords a Regiment a chance to inject some trumped up gossip of their own into the information pools of Cist, letting misinformation run rampant.
Recruitment is also an important action one can take in the population centers in Cist, whether that be voluntary or through press-ganging, the settlements, townships, and cities of Cist provide both fresh faces and the materials of war required to keep a unit in fighting form. Not just weapons and armor, but rations, carts, ammunition, socks; all can be pilfered or purchased to suit the Regiment's needs. Whether it be a glorious victory or a crushing defeat, one will rarely walk away from battle unscathed, so turning to a nearby settlement and pillaging it for goods will often be the first thing done to get a Regiment up to snuff.
In settlements and towns, one can only replenish the Regiment's units they had beforehand. But in cities, enough materials are on hand to completely reform your Regiment's Followers into something new. Tired of a mass of screaming Fodder? Why not slap some steeds on them and turn them into Whelps? Or armor them up and make them Brutes. Dig up a Stump Gun from some rotten backwater and hoist it onto their shoulders. Congratulations, they're cannoneers now! It's not just Followers you can gain in cities, but Toadies as well! Semi-literacy is big in these urban areas, as is unwarranted self-importance. And both are vital parts of keeping your stock of Toadies plump.
Naturally with cities, and towns being such a key part of a Regiment's supply line, one may feel tempted to try and seize them for themselves. Unfortunately, you are not the first to think this, and many cities are now home to both Regiments who had this bright idea first, or mighty homeguard companies based entirely around fending off Regimental encroachment for the benefit of the city's lords.
The 49th Shellwood Ironbacks are especially fierce if… Rather… Slow… In their… Advance… And the stilt-striding Lopers of Maudlin Marsh who guard Gerpe's walking stilt huts can cross a battlefield in but a few strides to lance the enemy. These are seasoned Regiments, not easily bested, and it'd take an equally fierce and equipped Regiment to lay them low and seize their homes for themselves. Fortunately, settlements are easy enough to prey upon and take… But without significant investment from the Regiment seizing it, that'll remain true for whichever Regiment happens upon it next.
These more prestigious and sedentary Regiments won't interfere with recruitment drives or fair compensation of the locals for supplies, but they will likely put an end to any plundering or organized criminality attempting to occur. Nor are they the sole NPC Regiments inhabiting such spaces, as many minor ones can be found limping into towns and cities after a particular battle or using it as a rest stop on their way to more glorious places.
Locations On The Map:
Geets - The capital of Cist on account of it being the biggest city, having the thickest walls and the tallest towers. Geets is a robust urban center and a delightfully dangerous place to live. When not afflicted with pox and thus locked down under a loose quarantine, visitors can look forward to dying in any number of colorful ways. From poisoning themselves with street meats of dangerous quality, to taking a wrong turn onto Mugger's Lane, to getting conked on the head by crumbling construction, all the way to getting caught in the crossfire of active skirmishes between Regiments seeking to make a name for themselves. With such resplendent and varied titles like Geets' Greasers and the Greasy Geeters, the only thing such Regiments hate more than originality is any other Regiment trying to muscle into the already quite crowded city.
Krotz - Robust in mineral wealth thanks to the bog iron resplendent through the surrounding swamplands, this once humble mining town has become not so humble. Krotz is fond of boasting, and to be frank, has much to boast about. They've got newly installed pipeworks, a constantly burning forge, high walls and iron gates. And that's not even mentioning the Krottish Footlumps, a Regiment bedecked in the best iron that Krotz can bring to bear. And seeing as they have some of the best in Cist (or so they claim), it's best not to trifle with such blatant braggarts.
Shellwood - Thanks to the Shellmother outside of Shellwood, Shellwood's snails are everywhere. On the walls, in the ground, some have even claimed to see flying snails slime their way slowly through the air. But that's probably the mucus talking. Mucus milking is indeed the primary trade of Shellwood, alongside snail-taming and shell refurbishment. Shellwooders gather the viscous substance from the many many snails of Shellwood and deliver it to neighboring settlements as a building material, diet supplement, sunscreen, and more! Slooooowly rising to meet Shellwood's enemies are the Shellwood Ironbacks, a regiment of Snail Riders who charge headlong, if at a snail's pace, towards their enemies. Those who might mistake their diminished pace for laxity however are sure to be ground to dust... Albeit.... Very....... Slowly..........
Bhir - Perhaps the most amicable of the 3 eastern Cistish cities, Bhir is not known for its weapons or its beasts, but it's brew. Bhir taverns are well-regarded throughout Cist for having some of the finest liquors in all the land, and it's hardy festivals draw many who'd suckle a stump for a sip of such sterling slop. Though how such fantastical fare is produced is likely best left a secret known only to the Bhirrish Booze Barons who command the breweries that produce such fine drink. Such breweries are defended by the likes of the Bhirrish Rots, a Regiment who will fight to the last to defend their home and their drink.
Sallow - A great city along the river Clogg, Sallow is a place of high culture, and higher standards. The people of Sallow place a great deal of importance on fashion, and looking one's best is considered as much a measure of manners as shaking every one of your appendages to demonstrate the lack of weapons attached and not commenting on the leech suckling on your hosts' ear. Though when I do say 'best', the result varies between the social classes of Sallow. The more run down denizens of the vagabond district have parallel fashion movements to those on the grand spire of Sallow, with only the rare bit of overlap. The sole thing everyone in Sallow can agree on is that the wigs of the Wigmaker's Guild are always splendid. Arch Duke Peruke, the head of said guild, has quite the heavy purse as a result, holding several minor Regiments on retainer that can combine into a furious force.
Murke - A popular tourist destination on account of the great big toad sitting in the center of it, Murke is a city that accepts all newcomers who enter, warts and all. Tourists and pilgrims alike come seeking healing and good fortune from simply touching the bulbous warts along the Toadmother's mighty frame. And while they're there, none would fault them for sampling some of the local toad meat delicacies or trying on any manner of toadskin clothing. The fact a good eighth of these visitors often go missing is a concern, but the toadish bric a brac is often well worth the cost! And besides, the Toads of Kistchmarsh Regiment are all toohoppy happy to show what happens when people get a bit too nosy into Murke's secrets, leaping into the fray with their strange footwork.
Krotz - Robust in mineral wealth thanks to the bog iron resplendent through the surrounding swamplands, this once humble mining town has become not so humble. Krotz is fond of boasting, and to be frank, has much to boast about. They've got newly installed pipeworks, a constantly burning forge, high walls and iron gates. And that's not even mentioning the Krottish Footlumps, a Regiment bedecked in the best iron that Krotz can bring to bear. And seeing as they have some of the best in Cist (or so they claim), it's best not to trifle with such blatant braggarts.
Shellwood - Thanks to the Shellmother outside of Shellwood, Shellwood's snails are everywhere. On the walls, in the ground, some have even claimed to see flying snails slime their way slowly through the air. But that's probably the mucus talking. Mucus milking is indeed the primary trade of Shellwood, alongside snail-taming and shell refurbishment. Shellwooders gather the viscous substance from the many many snails of Shellwood and deliver it to neighboring settlements as a building material, diet supplement, sunscreen, and more! Slooooowly rising to meet Shellwood's enemies are the Shellwood Ironbacks, a regiment of Snail Riders who charge headlong, if at a snail's pace, towards their enemies. Those who might mistake their diminished pace for laxity however are sure to be ground to dust... Albeit.... Very....... Slowly..........
Bhir - Perhaps the most amicable of the 3 eastern Cistish cities, Bhir is not known for its weapons or its beasts, but it's brew. Bhir taverns are well-regarded throughout Cist for having some of the finest liquors in all the land, and it's hardy festivals draw many who'd suckle a stump for a sip of such sterling slop. Though how such fantastical fare is produced is likely best left a secret known only to the Bhirrish Booze Barons who command the breweries that produce such fine drink. Such breweries are defended by the likes of the Bhirrish Rots, a Regiment who will fight to the last to defend their home and their drink.
Sallow - A great city along the river Clogg, Sallow is a place of high culture, and higher standards. The people of Sallow place a great deal of importance on fashion, and looking one's best is considered as much a measure of manners as shaking every one of your appendages to demonstrate the lack of weapons attached and not commenting on the leech suckling on your hosts' ear. Though when I do say 'best', the result varies between the social classes of Sallow. The more run down denizens of the vagabond district have parallel fashion movements to those on the grand spire of Sallow, with only the rare bit of overlap. The sole thing everyone in Sallow can agree on is that the wigs of the Wigmaker's Guild are always splendid. Arch Duke Peruke, the head of said guild, has quite the heavy purse as a result, holding several minor Regiments on retainer that can combine into a furious force.
Murke - A popular tourist destination on account of the great big toad sitting in the center of it, Murke is a city that accepts all newcomers who enter, warts and all. Tourists and pilgrims alike come seeking healing and good fortune from simply touching the bulbous warts along the Toadmother's mighty frame. And while they're there, none would fault them for sampling some of the local toad meat delicacies or trying on any manner of toadskin clothing. The fact a good eighth of these visitors often go missing is a concern, but the toadish bric a brac is often well worth the cost! And besides, the Toads of Kistchmarsh Regiment are all too
Gerpe - Describing the town of Gerpe as a town is perhaps giving it not enough credit. It is more akin to a migrational herd. Perched high above the lands of Cist on their stilts, the huts of Gerpe are able to steadily amble about in lazy circles over the swamp. How they do this is a mystery known only to Gerpe, but it might be tied to the hidden groves of strange and fibrous trees they seem to guard so fiercely, and whose lumber they sell to others in need of wood. Trees are a rarity in Cist, due to the root choking out more and more with each generation. So it's little wonder the location of these obscure thickets are kept a town secret. It has often been remarked that though Gerpe has the ability to travel far, they can be reliably found patrolling a particular corner of Cist,so perhaps it is there that they guard their secrets. Keen on silencing such brazen postulating, the Lopers of Maudlin Marsh guard Gerpe against those who desire her hidden arboreal treasures. These Lopers ride into battle atop iron shodded stilts so that they might kick and skewer their prey, and can cross most battlefields with great haste.
Agoz Castle - A crumbling bastille, the original foundation and purpose for this castle has long since sunk into the swamp. Yet the construction of new heights never stops, Agoz Castle being caught in a race between the mire of Cist and its own continual growth upwards. Still, despite its own long term insecurity, there are fewer places safer in Cist. Agoz' walls have a reputation of withstanding even the most stubborn and destructive of assailants. This is also in no small part thanks to their Regiment, the Bogwood Bulwarks. Possessing ordinance as destructive as their wit, the Bogwoods have outlasted besiegers by hurling insults and explosives at those who think they'll be the ones to finally take Agoz Castle.
Cestlemerp - A mighty fortified town, whose central castle and enclosing walls have passed through Regimental hands multiple times, making plentiful contributions to the Barrows it borders to the south as a result of its multiple Regimental wars. The Bucolic Death Regiment holds sway over Cestlemerp for now, and unlike past attempts, it seems to be growing in number after multiple assaults, not diminishing. The mystery of their increasing success is unknown, but rumors whisper that it's tied to their Creed, the exact wording of which has been lost ever since they took Cestlemerp and ceased proseltyzing.
High Merg - Once, Merg was a singular town, but those times are over. After a dispute whose origin has long since faded into the annals of history, the populace split into two factions that fought a bitter civil war to decide the fate of… Something still unknown. Still, the war ended with one side leaving the city and establishing a new one lower down the river Mergate. The current inhabitants of High Merg are the descendants of the side who remained. They are insistent upon the idea that the fact that they remained and the Low Mergans didn't means that they won the civil war. Forever feuding with Low Merg and their preposterous claims, it's likely a 2nd Merg War may break out between the two Mergs over who won the first.
Low Merg - Once, Merg was a singular town, but those times are over. After a dispute whose origin has long since faded into the annals of history, the populace split into two factions that fought a bitter civil war to decide the fate of… Something still unknown. Still, the war ended with one side leaving the city and establishing a new one lower down the river Mergate. Having left the ruined city of Merg after winning the war (or so the descendants of that side of the conflict claim), Low Mergans claim that the High Merganites are the true losers of the civil war, and as such frequently mock them. Forever feuding with High Merg and their obscene assertions, it's likely a 2nd Merg War may break out between the two Mergs over who won the first.
Agoz Castle - A crumbling bastille, the original foundation and purpose for this castle has long since sunk into the swamp. Yet the construction of new heights never stops, Agoz Castle being caught in a race between the mire of Cist and its own continual growth upwards. Still, despite its own long term insecurity, there are fewer places safer in Cist. Agoz' walls have a reputation of withstanding even the most stubborn and destructive of assailants. This is also in no small part thanks to their Regiment, the Bogwood Bulwarks. Possessing ordinance as destructive as their wit, the Bogwoods have outlasted besiegers by hurling insults and explosives at those who think they'll be the ones to finally take Agoz Castle.
Cestlemerp - A mighty fortified town, whose central castle and enclosing walls have passed through Regimental hands multiple times, making plentiful contributions to the Barrows it borders to the south as a result of its multiple Regimental wars. The Bucolic Death Regiment holds sway over Cestlemerp for now, and unlike past attempts, it seems to be growing in number after multiple assaults, not diminishing. The mystery of their increasing success is unknown, but rumors whisper that it's tied to their Creed, the exact wording of which has been lost ever since they took Cestlemerp and ceased proseltyzing.
High Merg - Once, Merg was a singular town, but those times are over. After a dispute whose origin has long since faded into the annals of history, the populace split into two factions that fought a bitter civil war to decide the fate of… Something still unknown. Still, the war ended with one side leaving the city and establishing a new one lower down the river Mergate. The current inhabitants of High Merg are the descendants of the side who remained. They are insistent upon the idea that the fact that they remained and the Low Mergans didn't means that they won the civil war. Forever feuding with Low Merg and their preposterous claims, it's likely a 2nd Merg War may break out between the two Mergs over who won the first.
Low Merg - Once, Merg was a singular town, but those times are over. After a dispute whose origin has long since faded into the annals of history, the populace split into two factions that fought a bitter civil war to decide the fate of… Something still unknown. Still, the war ended with one side leaving the city and establishing a new one lower down the river Mergate. Having left the ruined city of Merg after winning the war (or so the descendants of that side of the conflict claim), Low Mergans claim that the High Merganites are the true losers of the civil war, and as such frequently mock them. Forever feuding with High Merg and their obscene assertions, it's likely a 2nd Merg War may break out between the two Mergs over who won the first.
Jorc - It's Jorc. Jorc won the 1st Merg War. A settlement operated almost entirely by the storied Black Beet Regiment, Jorc arose from a collection of mercenaries and weapons dealers who set up shop outside the city limits of Merg so as to better protect their merchandise. This tradition has endured to the current day, and now they peddle weapons, slanderous newspapers, rare roots, and the mercenarial services of the BBR to both High Merganites and Low Mergans alike. And to everyone else, Merg military memorabilia, binoculars, snacks and heavy duty picnic tarps are all available, so that they might comfortably witness the incoming 2nd Merg War break out in all it's pointless glory.
Mireforp - A slop of a settlement barely worth the time it takes to mention, Mireforp's fishing industry in the local lakes just south of Mireforp is the sole thing that likely landed it on the original map. It has remained through iterations of Cist's map entirely due to every subsequent amateur cartographer making copies seeming to universally agree that the center of the map feels 'empty' without it.
Slops - In stark contrast to Mireforp, Slops is a settlement of far more notable renown. Slops is a holy site to the Church of the White Onion, whose central holy figure was martyred outside the settlement, dying over a century ago on the battlefield to save the people of Cist from a great evil. Or so the church claims. Since then, the Church has remained a recently fairly popular religious movement known for its great cathedrals and sizzling flagellations, that has begun to spread in the cities of Western Cist. Slops being the home of this religion has led to a full conversion of the settlement into true believers, fully dedicated to supporting the Legion of the White Onion, a hardy Regiment that is arming itself for what they believe to be the upcoming end of days.
Slek - A settlement that finds itself in service to Murke. Financially and militarily dominated by their northern neighbor and their froggish customs, Slek finds itself colonized and forced to provide for Murke in nearly every way possible. Rumors of dissent and unease have begun to spread through Slek recently, and it might not be long before they begin to revolt, or show their displeasure through… Subtler means.
Mireforp - A slop of a settlement barely worth the time it takes to mention, Mireforp's fishing industry in the local lakes just south of Mireforp is the sole thing that likely landed it on the original map. It has remained through iterations of Cist's map entirely due to every subsequent amateur cartographer making copies seeming to universally agree that the center of the map feels 'empty' without it.
Slops - In stark contrast to Mireforp, Slops is a settlement of far more notable renown. Slops is a holy site to the Church of the White Onion, whose central holy figure was martyred outside the settlement, dying over a century ago on the battlefield to save the people of Cist from a great evil. Or so the church claims. Since then, the Church has remained a recently fairly popular religious movement known for its great cathedrals and sizzling flagellations, that has begun to spread in the cities of Western Cist. Slops being the home of this religion has led to a full conversion of the settlement into true believers, fully dedicated to supporting the Legion of the White Onion, a hardy Regiment that is arming itself for what they believe to be the upcoming end of days.
Slek - A settlement that finds itself in service to Murke. Financially and militarily dominated by their northern neighbor and their froggish customs, Slek finds itself colonized and forced to provide for Murke in nearly every way possible. Rumors of dissent and unease have begun to spread through Slek recently, and it might not be long before they begin to revolt, or show their displeasure through… Subtler means.
The Barrows are, of course, a distinct and different area altogether. A detestably lumpy series of mounds and hills, composed from the detritus and corpses from generations of Regimental squabbling. Meanwhile the Southern Marshes simply swallowed up any attempt at cartography, so any number of things, people, and places could be there, unknown to the wider regions of Cist.
There are also, as mentioned, any number of places not on the map. The roof-rooted city of Grint and its Swelling Seasons. The town of Blattenwall and its riotous Catapult Cotillions. The lonely settlements of Vichor and Britz. Where exactly ARE these places that can't be found on the map? Who's to say? It's entirely likely they can simply be stumbled upon mid-transit to another place entirely.
Submissions will remain open until next week, July the 7th. Generally looking for 8-9 players, as this is my first time running a GSRP, I aim to keep the number of things to account for low in the long run.
To submit a Regiment simply follow this template:
Regiment Name:
Creed:
Creed Description:
Burden:
Starting Location:
Toff Name:
Toff Description
Toff Follower Units:
Toadie Name:
Toadie Description:
Toadie Follower Units:
An example would be:
Regiment Name: The 88th Snots Guard
Creed: "Hold your Nose-Root high, for it nose best."
Creed Description: The 88th Snots Guard is dedicated to all root vegetables that resemble the shapes of noses, and as such will scour Cist in search of such strangely shaped veggies. All other roots are lesser, for the Nose-Roots are the one true path.
Burden: Unburdened
Starting Location: Mireforp
Toff Name: Bishop-General Addlebrook
Toff Description: Constantly sneering down his protruding prominent proboscis at a world that he lacks the ability to sense, the Bishop-General mixes religious scripture with military doctrine like other Regiments, but with a far more formal and hierarchical structure. Creating a rabid mass of Followers that will follow his orders to the letter. Ill-tempered and obsessed with the length of noses, Addlebrook endeavors to have the longest in all of Cist in order to properly learn the True Stench of All, a profound prophesied revelation that will only occur to someone who holds a nose worthy to smell it. This religious mission has its origin in his discovery of the Nose-Roots as a child in Low Merg, and his lust for yet more.
Toff Follower Units: Fodder, Fodder
Toadie Name: Deacon-Sergeant Pietro
Toadie Description: Wafting behind the Bishop-General like a bad stench, the pungent Pietro endeavors to aid his Toff in his crusade for more Nose-Roots. While his own nose may lack the length of Addlebrook, Pietro's place in the Snots Guard is earned through his diligence as a battlefield commander and projectile specialist… Which he mainly gained from hucking rocks at small animals as a child.
Toadie Follower Units: Stump Gun
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