- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
oke now i am split between ether reading one of the letters or talking with our marshal
The Good Prince (Warhammer Fantasy)
- Thread starter Voikirium
- Start date
- Fantasy
Rungni Khazadson
Just another random Runesmith!
- Location
- New Zealand
[x] Asger, the Blacksmith. He'll be forging your new sword, so it would probably be a good idea to have him also on board.
- Location
- singapore
[X] Asger, the Blacksmith. He'll be forging your new sword, so it would probably be a good idea to have him also on board.
King Arthur
The Once and Future King
[X] Finally read and respond to that letter Luitpold sent you. If nothing else, vomiting earlier should help you get over your seasickness.
- Location
- California
[X] Finally read and respond to that letter Luitpold sent you. If nothing else, vomiting earlier should help you get over your seasickness.
- Location
- Germany
[X] Finally read and respond to that letter Luitpold sent you. If nothing else, vomiting earlier should help you get over your seasickness.
The southern Empire is right next to us, we should try to have at least decent relations. And we will need their help to kill the orcs, anyway.
The southern Empire is right next to us, we should try to have at least decent relations. And we will need their help to kill the orcs, anyway.
A Cry For Help
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
A Cry For Help
Your face is green. You thought that was a joke, a visual gag, something of the sort.
Nope.
Your face is literally green.
Every time the ship hits some patch of rough water, things you ate the last time you visited Estalia are vomited up. You haven't slept in hours, you nearly bit off Edwige's head when she tried to get you to spar. Every second of every day, the crew, the rations and the deck have been hammered with sheets of rain that never, ever stop coming, Each drop is about as big as a grape, and not one of the little ones either; too, they are all freezing cold. Lightning constantly assaults the area, meaning in the last two weeks since you left the South-- always a bad idea-- you've received maybe 48 hours of sleep. The food has been awful-- Norscan cuisine comes down to "burn, serve, suffer", with absolutely no spices, further confirming that food east of Montfort was a mistake. There is no wine and no brandy, either, only mead and beer-- you'd rather have Orc grog; at least then you might feel it.
That is about your mood when you open the letter from Luitpold.
It gets worse when the opening line is "Hello, Sir Stick-In-The-Mud". You make a concentrated effort to light it on fire with your brain, before you realize something a little weird further down.
He starts using Fan-Eltharin, the tongue of the Asrai. You know it pretty well, all things considered, for someone's who's spoken to them all of once to reaffirm the treaty when your father couldn't make it.
Well okay, it's not really Fan-Eltharin, more Louis Bretonnization system, but even that's actually pretty impressive.
Moving the letter to get a better view, you start to read:
"Sorry. I'm pretty sure Augusta is reading my letters, and I needed to throw her off the scent of what I was writing. I plan to be brief:
My sister wants to join the Northern War. More fairly, I suppose, she wants to prove herself to father, and for that she wishes to war.
Despite it all, I think my sister is still good person. If she goes north, and joins that butcher, she'll never be one again.
If I'm wrong, even the Norscan won't deserve what she'll do to them. If she goes. If she were in the Borderlands, though, fighting Orcs? She might not fall. Or at least, not drag so many in the falling.
You hate me.
I hate you.
But I will eat nothing but cambebert and baguettes and drink nothing but brandy and wine if it means saving my sister. I'm asking you now: invite her. Please.
From one brother to another.
You take out a quill, a piece of parchment, and...
[] Say yes. You understand wanting to impress your father perhaps more than anyone else.
[] Say no. She's a psychopath, a murderer dressed up as a knight. She dishonors the very title. Further, there's pretty good odds that this is, in fact, some sort of plan from the perfidious invaders.
Your face is green. You thought that was a joke, a visual gag, something of the sort.
Nope.
Your face is literally green.
Every time the ship hits some patch of rough water, things you ate the last time you visited Estalia are vomited up. You haven't slept in hours, you nearly bit off Edwige's head when she tried to get you to spar. Every second of every day, the crew, the rations and the deck have been hammered with sheets of rain that never, ever stop coming, Each drop is about as big as a grape, and not one of the little ones either; too, they are all freezing cold. Lightning constantly assaults the area, meaning in the last two weeks since you left the South-- always a bad idea-- you've received maybe 48 hours of sleep. The food has been awful-- Norscan cuisine comes down to "burn, serve, suffer", with absolutely no spices, further confirming that food east of Montfort was a mistake. There is no wine and no brandy, either, only mead and beer-- you'd rather have Orc grog; at least then you might feel it.
That is about your mood when you open the letter from Luitpold.
It gets worse when the opening line is "Hello, Sir Stick-In-The-Mud". You make a concentrated effort to light it on fire with your brain, before you realize something a little weird further down.
He starts using Fan-Eltharin, the tongue of the Asrai. You know it pretty well, all things considered, for someone's who's spoken to them all of once to reaffirm the treaty when your father couldn't make it.
Well okay, it's not really Fan-Eltharin, more Louis Bretonnization system, but even that's actually pretty impressive.
Moving the letter to get a better view, you start to read:
"Sorry. I'm pretty sure Augusta is reading my letters, and I needed to throw her off the scent of what I was writing. I plan to be brief:
My sister wants to join the Northern War. More fairly, I suppose, she wants to prove herself to father, and for that she wishes to war.
Despite it all, I think my sister is still good person. If she goes north, and joins that butcher, she'll never be one again.
If I'm wrong, even the Norscan won't deserve what she'll do to them. If she goes. If she were in the Borderlands, though, fighting Orcs? She might not fall. Or at least, not drag so many in the falling.
You hate me.
I hate you.
But I will eat nothing but cambebert and baguettes and drink nothing but brandy and wine if it means saving my sister. I'm asking you now: invite her. Please.
From one brother to another.
You take out a quill, a piece of parchment, and...
[] Say yes. You understand wanting to impress your father perhaps more than anyone else.
[] Say no. She's a psychopath, a murderer dressed up as a knight. She dishonors the very title. Further, there's pretty good odds that this is, in fact, some sort of plan from the perfidious invaders.
- Location
- California
[X] Say yes. You understand wanting to impress your father perhaps more than anyone else.
People going full bloodlust in this world is a bad thing. Worst case scenario she is coming south to mess with us, in which case I believe the Virtue of Confidence demands we face the challenge head on.
People going full bloodlust in this world is a bad thing. Worst case scenario she is coming south to mess with us, in which case I believe the Virtue of Confidence demands we face the challenge head on.
- Location
- singapore
[X] Say yes. You understand wanting to impress your father perhaps more than anyone else.
- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
[X] Say yes. You understand wanting to impress your father perhaps more than anyone else.
-hopefully we can direct that violence rather then it be directed back at us because khorne
-hopefully we can direct that violence rather then it be directed back at us because khorne
KnightDisciple
Brotherhood. Unity. Peace.
- Location
- Midwest, USA
[X] Say yes. You understand wanting to impress your father perhaps more than anyone else.
The Plan (Norscan Misery Prelude)
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The Plan
The letter is written and sent by carrier, and you try to get some sleep.
--
You wake up the next day feeling rather worn out. A bit like that time you stole your mother's absinthe as a squire. That had been a good day.
Rising from the scratchy sheets, throwing some water in your face and tying your hair back in the traditional style, then a silken tunic and some trousers, you're off to the deck. You will, after all, finally be making landfall.
Outside, the sky is gray with smoke and ash. On the shore, you can see Imperial Soldiers fortifying a conquered city with cannons and gunpoweder stores. Laborers under the new lord are flocking towards the hill at the center, no doubt to build a new keep or manor. Mixed in with the Imperials are locals, many of them clapped in chains. Ash still covers many of the streets, and nearby fires rage yet. The stink of gunpowder, the distinctive sour note, upsets you stomach too much and you vomit quickly over the side of the boat, though it passes as quickly as it came.
Heaped up in the center of the town, or displayed on wooden walls, or whatever else needed to show it as well as it can be, is a giant pile of loot that the Raiders had taken, given the blood spatters sometimes ripped straight from their victims. Besides the giant heap of gold and jewels, there are suits of armor, shields, children's clothing, books and art. Some of it, you know, is Bretonnian. Further, also near the center, former thralls are reunited with family brought from the Empire, and Bretonnia, and Estalia, and Tilea, and a thousand nations besides. As you watch, a man of the Far East speaks with a translator only for a woman who looks a lot like him to race from out of nowhere and grab him.
Before you can get too much more melancholic, someone tugs your sleeve. Turning, Edwige is standing there in her armor, her helm open.
"I have a request, Sire. I'd...I'd like to journey with you and Asger. If I have to keep putting up with-"
[] cu
"With what? The Norscans? We made a plan, Edwige, and they need a translator. You'll live."
She...accedes, well enough. Duty bound, you suppose. Just a quiet huff then she's off.
In any case, you do need to go meet with the Jarl.
Heading for his cabin, you find he and his second looking at a map with the three routes inscribed. One is by river, moving the boat. That one...isn't really going to happen for you. "Welcome to Klenbekk. Formerly the largest port of Norsca."
So, there's two others-- first is the string of villages, castles and so on the various Brotherhoods, Orders, and Fraternities have conquered nearer to the border. You'll be more anonymous there, so safer.
Then there's the cities and so on further in to the conquered territory, where actual nobles from the Empire are ruling directly. They might actually recognize you from heraldry, but on the other hand there are something resembling roads, so faster.
Which do you follow?
[] The Near Territories.
[] The far area.
The letter is written and sent by carrier, and you try to get some sleep.
--
You wake up the next day feeling rather worn out. A bit like that time you stole your mother's absinthe as a squire. That had been a good day.
Rising from the scratchy sheets, throwing some water in your face and tying your hair back in the traditional style, then a silken tunic and some trousers, you're off to the deck. You will, after all, finally be making landfall.
Outside, the sky is gray with smoke and ash. On the shore, you can see Imperial Soldiers fortifying a conquered city with cannons and gunpoweder stores. Laborers under the new lord are flocking towards the hill at the center, no doubt to build a new keep or manor. Mixed in with the Imperials are locals, many of them clapped in chains. Ash still covers many of the streets, and nearby fires rage yet. The stink of gunpowder, the distinctive sour note, upsets you stomach too much and you vomit quickly over the side of the boat, though it passes as quickly as it came.
Heaped up in the center of the town, or displayed on wooden walls, or whatever else needed to show it as well as it can be, is a giant pile of loot that the Raiders had taken, given the blood spatters sometimes ripped straight from their victims. Besides the giant heap of gold and jewels, there are suits of armor, shields, children's clothing, books and art. Some of it, you know, is Bretonnian. Further, also near the center, former thralls are reunited with family brought from the Empire, and Bretonnia, and Estalia, and Tilea, and a thousand nations besides. As you watch, a man of the Far East speaks with a translator only for a woman who looks a lot like him to race from out of nowhere and grab him.
Before you can get too much more melancholic, someone tugs your sleeve. Turning, Edwige is standing there in her armor, her helm open.
"I have a request, Sire. I'd...I'd like to journey with you and Asger. If I have to keep putting up with-"
"With what? The Norscans? We made a plan, Edwige, and they need a translator. You'll live."
She...accedes, well enough. Duty bound, you suppose. Just a quiet huff then she's off.
In any case, you do need to go meet with the Jarl.
Heading for his cabin, you find he and his second looking at a map with the three routes inscribed. One is by river, moving the boat. That one...isn't really going to happen for you. "Welcome to Klenbekk. Formerly the largest port of Norsca."
So, there's two others-- first is the string of villages, castles and so on the various Brotherhoods, Orders, and Fraternities have conquered nearer to the border. You'll be more anonymous there, so safer.
Then there's the cities and so on further in to the conquered territory, where actual nobles from the Empire are ruling directly. They might actually recognize you from heraldry, but on the other hand there are something resembling roads, so faster.
Which do you follow?
[] The Near Territories.
[] The far area.
- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
[x] The Near Territories.
not sure, but oke lets do this then!
not sure, but oke lets do this then!
- Location
- California
[X] The far area.