The lands of Lordaeron are in shock. Months ago, in STRATHOLME, Prince ARTHAS MENETHIL butchered and slaughtered the people of the city and fled with a large contingent of Lordaeron's most veteran soldiers, supposedly leaving these shores for the cursed continent of NORTHREND.
The Prince returned, and the news of his return drove an even deeper dagger into the faltering heart of Lordaeron. KING TERENAS IS DEAD- slain by his own son. This betrayal has caused the lands and people to falter. Gilneas has completely locked itself away, and Thoradin's Wall restricts the pathways of refugees southward. Southshore's ports are beginning to be over encumbered by the hungry and fearful, and wild Orcs and Alteraci separatists continue to stagger the countryside.
Above all, the TRAITOR PRINCE has once more disappeared away with his small contingent of dark loyalists. In his regicidal wake, the Undead ravage the land wherever they can. Lordaeron is boxed in. Its destiny now rests in the hands of petty barons, warlords, captains and men of the faith or arcane to lead that which is now becoming the remnants of a once great Kingdom either to salvation, survival- or a fate even WORSE THAN DEATH.
The lands of Lordaeron are in shock. Months ago, in STRATHOLME, Prince ARTHAS MENETHIL butchered and slaughtered the people of the city and fled with a large contingent of Lordaeron's most veteran soldiers, supposedly leaving these shores for the cursed continent of NORTHREND.
The Prince returned, and the news of his return drove an even deeper dagger into the faltering heart of Lordaeron. KING TERENAS IS DEAD- slain by his own son. This betrayal has caused the lands and people to falter. Gilneas has completely locked itself away, and Thoradin's Wall restricts the pathways of refugees southward. Southshore's ports are beginning to be over encumbered by the hungry and fearful, and wild Orcs and Alteraci separatists continue to stagger the countryside.
Above all, the TRAITOR PRINCE has once more disappeared away with his small contingent of dark loyalists. In his regicidal wake, the Undead ravage the land wherever they can. Lordaeron is boxed in. Its destiny now rests in the hands of petty barons, warlords, captains and men of the faith or arcane to lead that which is now becoming the remnants of a once great Kingdom either to salvation, survival- or a fate even WORSE THAN DEATH.
In THE LAST DAYS OF THE ALLIANCE, players take control of their self-made characters to become either bloodthirsty warlords using the chaos of the Scourging for their own benefit, or self-righteous heroes, seeking to find a way to create a safe haven, or perhaps lead their people out of the chaos that grips the land. Either way, the LAST DAYS OF THE ALLIANCE is a semi-system GSRP, meaning that there is a very soft system in works to control the balance of the game, while allowing players to roleplay to their heart's content, considering I prefer the narrative to the 'win or lose' mindset.
Players can range from Humans barons and captains of the army, to Paladins of the Silver Hand, up to even lowly Dwarven thanes or mercenaries, perhaps even Quel'dorei rangers stuck in the lands of Lordaeron. Considering this, not everyone will be allowed to be a noble of a land, and not everyone a powerful paladin or sorcerer- each of these ARCHETYPES having slots within the story. They are as goes:
NOBLE - 2/3 Slots ~ The lords and ladies of the land. While held under suspicion due to the rumors of Baron Rivendare's involvement in the events around Andorhal and Stratholme, nobility, even in such a chaotic state, holds ultimate power in regional matters. For now.
SOLDIER - 3/5 Slots ~ Captains, lieutenants and generals of the forces of Lordaeron. Once leaders and commanders of an army that fought and won against the Orcs, now a shadow of itself- stymied by peace and gutted by the Traitor Prince and the Scourge's actions.
OUTSIDER - 3/3 Slots ~ Dwarves from the south and Elves from the north, or perhaps simply knights and mercenaries from the other kingdoms. Nonetheless, now, they are stuck within the lands of Lordaeron- either for better or worse.
PALADIN - 3/3 Slots ~ The Order of the Silver Hand is falling. Scattered, the greatest of their knights protect the now sacred ashes of the dead King. The mission of the others, both initiate and knight? To hold back the Scourge, and save the people- at whatever the cost.
SORCERER - 2/2 Slots ~ An agent of the Kirin Tor far away from Dalarna, or perhaps someone investigating the powers of the Plague and how to stop it- or perhaps control it. Nonetheless, you and your small posse of either adventurers, mercenaries or other mages must now survive, or prosper.
COMMONER/PRIEST - 6/6 Slots ~ The nobles have abandoned you. The grain is tainted. The soldiers are useless, and the Light does not answer your prayers. You must now step up and lead your fellow man, either as an idealistic peasant or man of the cloth speaking the word of the Light to bring your people to salvation and sanctuary.
Character creation is simple. Below you will find a character sheet. As a noble archetype, you can choose a certain part of the land of Lordaeron to rule, while as a Soldier you can choose a place for you and your contingent of soldiers to be stationed at in the following days of Terenas' murder, and so on and so on. Take note, your characters and their stories will begin as secondary to the main ones of the story, but due to the BUTTERFLY EFFECT that will take place from your various actions, even the 'Canon' of these forthcoming days of strife might change.
Portrait: (Optional) Name: Race and Age: Archetype: Location: Biography:
The General playing area of the Game.
(taken from Epsilon-RP phase "Mereldar", created by Serida)
Further on, you will find the soft-stats that will be applied to your characters after being accepted into the game. While the game is mostly narrative based, one cannot expect to win a battle with only 10 soldiers against a horde of undead, so some management of supplies, people and other resources will be important in this game.
FORCES: - A structured accounting of the manner and count of forces under your leadership. -
Notes: FOOD: - One cannot trust the grain anymore, not after the stories. Food will be the crux of either your fall or persistence. -
Notes: PEOPLE: - Those that are not able to or cannot fight,deemed suitable for labor, artistry and other needed work. -
Notes: HOPE: - Instead of stability, the land now depends on hope. Instead of politics, it looks to power and heroics to decide its fate. -
Notes:
Inspired by the Prophet Karen, blessed be his Hallowed Name now lost to Eternity, I am also going to be keeping track of the overarching overworld story of Lordaeron. While getting food, keeping up hope and recruiting LIVING people will be easy at first, as each PHASE (as seen below) shifts into another, certain eventss, either Canon or created due to the BUTTERFLY EFFECT, will inhibit all of these things.
THE SCOURGING
Phase 1 : DENIAL
The King is dead. The lands of Lordaeorn, now heirless and headless, dip into an uncertain time. Banditry and undeath terrorize the countryside, with most large centers of population, like the Capital City and Stratholme, sacked and burnt. The Kingdom is in disarray and cordoned off by the others in various ways. For now, there is still faltering hope.
Phase 2: ANGER
Phase 3: BARGAINING
Phase 4: DEPRESSION
Phase 5: ACCEPTANCE
RULES
1. Respect SV Forum rules.
2. Respect each other.
3. Respect my time as a GM- send in orders on time.
4. Respect the premise of the game- understand the Lore and understand that your characters may die quickly, gruesomely and there isn't supposed to be a true 'winner'.
5. Private, in-character discussions between players must be held in a way for me to be able to see them, i.e. Discord, SV PMs, etc.
6. Membership in the Discord is not obligatory, but heavily suggested to be notified of the game being updated and also to communicate with your fellow players.
Portrait: Name: Baron Waldron Rowley Race and Age: Human, 20 Archetype: Noble Location: Corin's Crossing Biography: The Barons of Corin's Crossing have long been loyal servants of both the Crown and their neighbors, the Dukes of Tyr's Hand: the Abbendis family. This bond has become exceptionally close in the current generation, given that High General Abbendis served as Regent for the Barony after the previous Baron died defending against the Orcish invasion during the Second War. Relatively isolated from the attacks of the Scourge for the time being, the Crossing stands with Tyr's Hand, confident that mountainous enclave can withstand anything the Scourge can throw at it.
Of course, the Baron finds himself with a religious revival and an army of faithful bandits on his doorstep. They could be potent allies or they could be potent enough to unseat him from his fief. He must be cautious.
Portrait: Name: Andrew Bartlett Race and Age: Human, 54 Archetype: Commoner Location: Eastweld Biography: Born to a family of farmers, Andrew kept his head down for most of his life, merely paying lip service to the nobles and the gods. Now that they have been abandoned by both, he finally sees a future where it is the sweat of ones brow that determines what a man is, not an accident of birth.
The RP is concentrated on the ALLIANCE, rather than the outlying ex-Horde or other such tribes. So all players will have to be either Humans, Dwarves or Elves (hell, I even allow Gnomes if it makes sense) though Mossflayers, other Amani are considered as antagonists to the protagonists of this story.
Biography: Once the woman who would become Eir Gunnhildr was far from the holy woman most know her as today. In the past she was nothing more than a bandit, one of countless others that hid in the forest preying upon the commonfolk. Were fate to go differently that was all she might have been, but as chance would have it she was struck down in a robbery gone wrong and left for dead on the side of the road, where a passing priest came upon her and brought her to a nearby church to recover.
When she asked why he did it the priest said something that struck something within her, "Even the darkest souls can find redemption child."
From that day she shed her old life and followed the path of the light, holding the principles of redemption close to her heart. This was how she found her way to Corin's Crossing, often being seen around the local prison where she would talk to and comfort those who had committed crimes against the community. Countless times she would advocate on their behalf, beseeching the people to show mercy and give even the worst of criminals a chance at redemption.
When the Scourge came and the people succumbed to the plague she did what she could to stem the tide. Seeing to the people, healing those she could and keeping hope alive in these trying times. But it was when an infamous group of brigands arrived at the gates seeking sanctuary that her star truly rose, the people desired nothing more than to refuse them, to leave them to the undead. But it was Eir's voice, full of faith and compassion that swayed their minds and the brigands were allowed in, joining their swords with those of the garrison defending their homes. When many thought these ruffians would turn tail and run it was Eir's voice that steeled their hearts and sparked a light that they had thought had disappeared from their darkened souls.
For when the dead rise against the living, even the darkest souls and most blood stained hands must stand together against the tide.
Name: 'Captain' Troyes The Traitor Race and Age: Human, 36 Archetype: Soldier Location: Corrin's Crossing Biography: Troyes fought in the Second War. He played his part, fighting, dying, and bleeding from wounds he didn't bother to count.
He fought so the Orcs could raze down his home, kill his family, destroy village after village. He served with distinction and honor, leading his men and earning his position with sweat, blood, and tears.
What did he gain for that?
A pittance, a destroyed life, no family left, and even his wife, thought safe in Capital City's walls, dead by the blasted off walls..
His fellows were much the same, from the same Villiage burned as the Green Skins marched on the capital.
Captain Troyes and his men had enough. With all their friends and family dead, seen as betrayal of King Terenas to defend their home while they fought for his, they took to the wilds with their armor and weapons and training. They terrorized Lorderon for thirteen long years, being infamous bandits that robbed, stole, butchered caravans in ambushes. They unleashed their seething anger upon Soldier and Noble and Commoners alike while stupefying the Lorderon military with their insider knowledge.
Until the undead.
They watched at first, uncaring, happily picking off what they like and butchering any in their way. The undead were but little forethoughts in their mind, continuing their life as it was for thirteen years... But Corrin's Crossing... Corrin's Crossing...
His men had not all survived the war, nor the thirteen years unmolested. They still took losses, yet they all knew and remembered the burn down ashy remant of their village.
Perhaps it was the Light, perhaps it was conscious, perhaps it was just the desperation of the villagers they killed over thirteen long hard dreadful years... But they attacked, they assisted the Village, and even offered their arms in defense of the Crossing...
Now they lived within at the mercy of some Lady of the Light with whom prays over them unasked...
The World has gone to Hell, yet the Traitors of Lorderon stand with their home once more.
♫
"Fighting the undead's not that different from fighting trolls. They'll heal from a crippling wound, so make your one strike count. Luckily I strike hard"
Name: Sir Orman Stonebridge, Captain General of the Stromgard Brigade
Race and Age: Human, 39
Archetype: Outsider
Location: Strahnbrad
Biography: It was supposed to be easy. King Thoras had always wanted to annex Alterac, and that desire (and the question of the orcs) had seen the Alliance split between two old friends. Years later with passions cooled and news spreading of plague and chaos in Lordaeron it seemed a clever move to send forces into the mountains, to clear out the orcs and bandits there. Thoras could lend some aid to his old friend without ever climbing down and of course make a play for the territory he'd always coveted. Thus the Stromgarde Brigade was formed, under Sir Stonebridge, a grizzled veteran of the Second War and born mountain fighter. It was supposed to be easy, march into the mountains, cleave the skulls of a full Blackrock orcs for old times sake, tame the Alteraci bandit instinct with stromish steel. Nothing could have prepared him for the current state of affairs. King Terenas dead, Arthas mad and treasonous. At Tol Barad, the Orcish death knights had raised the dead, but nothing on the scale of this plague. Ormas is increasingly concerned his expedition has become a suicide mission. But like many of the hillmen of the Arathi he is entirely too stubborn to quit. A scion of Lordaeron might put his faith in the light. An Alteraci would run or turn traitor. But a Stromish man, knowing behind his position lies perhaps the last bit of Lordaeron untouched by plague or scourge will raise high his greatsword to the last asking the question "How many can I make die"
Name: Alfofrod Drakebeard
Race and Age: Dwarf, 80
Archetype: Outsider
Location: Hearthglen
Biography: Alfofrod has been working as a merchant on a zeppelin for decades and he always has a fascination on traveling the world, after saving a good amount of money he managed to buy his own zeppelin that has a reasonable sized cargo space, a few cannons, and hire his own crew.
It's been a few years since he bought the blimp and it served him well, nowadays he transports various cargo to sell in different parts of the world from food, spices, clothing, potions, equipment(rings, armor, etc...), enchanted goods, magic items, etc...
Alfofrod left Stratholme before trouble came to Stratholme and he was just arrived near Hearthglen when he saw the fires near Hearthglen. Now he plans to save anyone he could from the undead, for now he has a good stock of supplies and fully fueled and have reasonable space to house survivors. He and his crew are armed with firearms and the zeppelin has a few cannons that can provide support.
note: red circle is a player's starting position, blue circle is my starting location.
corrin's crossing 3 circles cause it has 3 players on it.
note 2: the blimp in the picture should be bigger(more space) and has a few guns.
Portrait: Name: Commander Theoric Alaine Race and Age: Human, 42 Archetype: Soldier Location: Eastwall Tower Biography: Theoric is a simple man. The firstborn son of a butcher, he decided he would rather swing a sword than a cleaver and volunteered to enlist in the army of Lordaeron. Of course, a few years after that, it turned out Stormwind had been destroyed by an invasion of orcs from another world and they were coming for the rest of the continent. Theoric would serve with distinction during the Second War, and even gain a knighthood for his troubles. It turned out in the end that cutting up orcs wasn't much different than chopping beef, barring them trying to stab you, and he was rather good at it.
Theoric would decide to stick with the army in the wake of the war, and with peace mostly reigning except for the odd bandit or escaped orc band, looked forward to a comfortable, dull career. He would be assigned the posting of Eastwall Tower, a modest garrison near the capital that spent most of their time marching or drilling rather than anything else. Or at least, that was until Andorhal went insane and rotting corpses started assaulting him. He would handle this with a simple, three part plan. The first thing to do was to stop eating anything from Andorhal. The second thing to do was to chop the zombies into small pieces. The final thing to do was burn them. This worked, mostly, but Theoric was relieved when news reached him the Prince himself took charge of the situation and took a proper army off to handle things.
Then Stratholme was destroyed, the Prince took the army to a frozen hellhole on the edge of the world, and was finally welcomed back only to murder his father and disappear again. Blindsided for the third time in his life, Theoric half expected the sky to start raining fire and monsters to start popping out of the ocean. Of course, that didn't happen, and instead he's faced with a Kingdom in chaos where no one seems to have any idea what to do or who is in charge.
The utter breakdown of order within the once proud Kingdom of Lordaeron has led to great turmoil gripping the lands. In the uttermost reaches of the Eastweald, known as the Duchy of New Avalon, this breakdown has led to the intensification of the games of the high nobility. Long a hub of intrigue, with the king dead and unrest gripping the land the high nobles see little reason not to resort to open assassination and other underhanded means to secure power. The Lady Katrina Gladstone of Havenshire was killed in one such attack, her entire bloodline wiped out by a group of treasonous bodyguards. These men then turned their attentions on the rest of the lady's castle, seeking to extract their pay in loot and pillage and other cruel acts.
However they underestimated the servantry. For in that dark hour, the Light shone brightly on one woman. Vellcinda Barton, a simple peasant girl working as a maid at the castle, found a well of inner strength as the brutes attacked her fellows. With ringing voice she rallied together the other servants and they fell upon the blackguards, tearing them apart. With the Lady Gladstone dead and Tyr's Hand not responding to any pleas for aide Vellcinda Barton finds herself the de-facto controller of Havenshire. Already the townsfolk send representatives to her, begging for leadership in these trying times. What this up-jumped maid does next may determine the fate of those who live in the utter east of Lordaeron
Portrait:
Name: Victor Drakonheart
Race and Age: Human, age 26
Archetype: Noble
Location: Hearthglen
Biography:
Born the Oldest of 3 Children (2 younger sisters, twins age 20), Victor was raised with the reality that he would take over the family when his father either died or abdicated. Growing up he was taught all the basic things like language and writing from highly skilled tutors, martial skills from the families retainers, his father personally taught him finance and leadership, and his mother taught him etiquette and the Noble arts of politicing and veiled insulting.
When he reached his 20th name day he was given a large portion of the families estate to manage, as a way to earn some money from the family but also as both a test of what he had learned and as experience for the future. The Proud Drakonheart family had many properties and workshops under their thumbs, and this allowed the family to have a wide array of influences and incomes. Over the years he ran his share of the family business well and developed them along with his contacts throughout the city.
When he was 25 his father was killed during a trip back from the Capital, supposedly from bandits though the events that followed in Lorderan lead Victor to believe that it was actually caused by cultists, directly or indirectly, but it was a blow to the family that lead to a few of their more opportunistic rivals to snap up bits and pieces of the Drakonheart financial empire and put pressure on them. For the next near Victor maneuvered and fought to reclaim everything and beat back the snakes and hounds nipping at his heels.
Then came word of Arthas' deeds and soon after the whole Kingdom began going to hell. People began panicking, nobles began to horde supplies and/or flee, and roving bands of bandits, undead, and cultists popped up which complicated things further.
Now, Victor will do whatever is needed to survive... and maybe do more than that.
Name: Arellas Fireleaf Race and Age: High Elf, 232 Archetype: Sorcerer Location: Tanathil Academy Biography: Arellas is the youngest scion of a prestigious lineage of Kirin Tor alchemists and evokers, nearing the end of the young years when a Quel'dorei is reckless and full of adventure. Favouring proximity to nature rather than frigid Alterac, he took a post in the remote Tanathil Academy teaching evocation and nurturing a budding interest in the virology of the mysterious plague that appeared to be capturing the northlands.
In five years, Arellas might have simply returned home to Quel'thalas, and taken up a commendable role in the Magisterium.
Now, he is caught in a battle for survival with the object of his morbid fascination.
I am Siegmund Royston, a Paladin of the Silver Hand, and my journey began sixteen years ago when I took up the mantle of a protector of the innocent, vowing to fight against the Horde and the darkness that plagued our world. It was a decision born out of a deep desire to safeguard the lives of those who suffered in the wake of the orcs' onslaught and the chaotic events that have unfolded since then.
Sixteen years ago, I forsook my priestly robes and embarked on a new path as a paladin. I joined the ranks of the Silver Hand, determined to protect the innocent from the terrors that threatened our world, savage orcs and their ilk. Armed with the symbol of the Silver Hand, I set out to bring hope to the desolate lands and confront the darkness with my burning light. My commitment as a paladin has remained steadfast throughout these years. Anger still simmers within me, but it is a righteous anger, one that fuels my unwavering dedication to the defense of my people.
My duty to care for my flock is an unbreakable bond. Guided by my unwavering faith in the Light, I tirelessly seek to protect and bring solace to those who suffer, delivering swift justice to those who exploit the weak. With the symbol of the Silver Hand emblazoned on my shield, I stand as a beacon of hope in a land that has lost its light. My sword remains a prayer for the fallen, and my unwavering commitment to righteousness is a testament to my dedication.
My story is one of survival, as I was among the fortunate few who lived through the horrifying events of Stratholme's fall. The memories of that fateful day remain etched in my mind, and they fueled a burning anger—a righteous rage against the forces of darkness that had torn my homeland apart.
In a world scarred by darkness, I, Siegmund Royston, walk a path of duty and righteousness, driven by anger but bound by my solemn oath to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I am a Paladin of the Silver Hand, and I am the light that pushes back against the despair that threatens to consume our world.
Race and Age: High Elf, 188 years old.
Archetype: Outsider
Location: Quel'Lithien Lodge
Biography: The second child of the prestigious Lord Athelas Highblade, Laurelorn entered the Farstriders along with her childhood friends Alleria and Sylvanas Windrunner. Laurelorn followed Alleria Windrunner as her second in command to fight alongside the Alliance of Lordaeron against the Horde. She distinguished herself in the fighting, particularly in the relief of the capital of Lordaeron near the end of the Second War. As the borderlands of Quel'Thalas burned and Alleria's family suffered grave losses, Laurelorn attempted to comfort her dear friend. Unfortunately for Laurelorn Alleria sought her comfort in the arms of Turalyon, the human paladin and commander of the Alliance armies. Driven into grief by her unrequited love Laurelorn poured all her soul into an unthinking service to Alleria who she loved and idolized.
When Alleria sailed south to fight the last of the free orcs in the blasted lands Laurelorn followed. She fought with Alleria and watched over her son Arator until the time came when Alleria decided to lead them through the Dark Portal. One night before the expedition was to travel through the portal, Alleria came to Laurelorn and asked her to bring the ruby of her necklace to Vereesa and the sapphire to Sylvanas, fearing that she would never return from the lands of Draenor. Laurelorn wept and begged her friend to allow her to go with her beyond the Portal. She begged to be given the honor to die alongside her love, confessing her feelings for Alleria though she knew that her friend did not return them. Alleria smiled a sad smile and said, "Then it is even more important that you go back to Quel'Thalas so that my sisters and son may know that they are not alone in their love for me and, if things pass as I fear, their grief. Live Laurelorn my friend for yourself at last."
Laurelorn did as she was commanded and brought her friends the last gifts of their beloved sister. Laurelorn waited on the borders of Quel'Thalas hoping to hear word of the return of Alleria but as the years passed she fell into bitterness and regret. She isolated herself, travelling long into the human lands and hunting Amadi trolls. When the Third War began and the Scourge began to destroy the human realms she felt that she needed to fight alongside her old allies. She begged to be given the command of a small number of rangers and to go into Lordaeron and fight the foes of that great kingdom. Sylvanas named her Ranger-Captain and gave her the command of Quel'Lithien Lodge. Laurelorn since has fought to protect the humans near her and to destroy the undead menace before it can threaten the borderlands of her nation. War has reignited some of Laurelorn's wounded soul, but her family has stated often that her sorrow wells up far beyond her years.
Name: Gaewyn Muriens Race and Age: Human, 27 Archetype: Paladin Location: Capital City
Biography: Gaewyn had been brought up on stories of the second war. His family had died at the hands of the foul orcs, it was only by the grace of the light that he had survived. Unlike many other orphans, he was fortunate enough to have grown up in an orphanage run by the Church, looked after by a kindly nun. He had long dreamt of following in the footsteps of great heroes like Uther the Lightbringer and striking down the wicked in his childhood.
Well, he has sort of succeeded, the entire kingdom was burning as armies of the rotting dead shambled across the countryside with impunity and now, their shining prince has even killed his own father! There was truly no shortage of the wicked these days. Sadly, putting down hordes of undead wasn't all it was cracked out to be as it turns out. Exhaustion and nausea was all he felt after smiting the first score of ghouls and zombies with his warmace. That was almost a year ago.
Now, he has been commanded to protect what remains of the capital and save all that may yet live, even as Lord Uther rallies many of the remaining Knights of the Silver Hand to Andorhal. Surely, it can't get much worse than this, can it?
DAME ALVINA HAYHURST
Human | 33 | Soldier | Andorhal
Dame Alvina Hayhurst is a proud knight of Lordaeron. She was the squire of Sir Bruce Huxley during the Second War. The intrepid youth faced the Horde in Thandol Vale, witnessed the destruction of Dun Algaz, and the retreat of the orcs from Khaz Modan. But the experience that struck her most was the suppression of the rebellion at Tyr's Hand. The misguided peasantry there received no quarter. Despite the difficult circumstances of the time, she rejected the need for such brutality. The outrage was articulated into treatises of moral behavior for her own class. Knowing how bored most would be with a simple lecture, Alvina filled them with stories of Lord Lothar. After reading them, King Terenas would serve as her patron. The rest of her days were spent in the capital until the current year, being one of the kinder voices to the demi-human races. She fell out of favor with Terenas when she sided with Uther in the scouring of Stratholme. Exiled from the court, she rode to Andorhal upon hearing the paladin's call to arms.
These are claims mostly situated in the Eastweald. It is highly suggested for the next few applicants to apply further west to populate that region with some interesting ideas. Also, all ARCHETYPE SLOTS except Nobles and Sorcerers are now increased by +1.
STATS FOR ACCEPTED:
FORCES:
Swordsmen: 50
Spearmen: 100
Archers: 20
Mounted Scouts: 10
Notes: A veteran force of soldiers hailing all the way from the Second War. They are extremely distrustful of working with nobles and have taken a liking to the religiosity of Mother Gunnhildr.
FOOD:
50/100
Notes: Due to military experience, rationing is almost natural to Troyes's company, meaning that food is decreasing at a much slower pace. Although the thought of sharing isn't popular.
PEOPLE:
---
Notes: Most menial labor is taken care of by either the Baron's or Mother'slaborers at the moment.
HOPE:
80/100
Notes: The men had lost faith in the King long ago, but even the man's death has gotten to them. As such, with the Undead encroaching, they look to the Light, and find in it purpose.
FORCES:
Swordsmen: 100
Spearmen: 100
Archers: 50
Knights: 15
Notes: A loyal retinue of men-at-arms and knights in service to your House. However, many are young and green, having not served in the Lordaeornian army or any war, aside from small incursions of wandering Gnolls or Amani.
FOOD:
90/100
Notes: While there was a scare of the food due to an Andorhal shipping crate having been found, the supposedly contaminated grain has been done away with for now. The rest of the stores are packed and ready.
PEOPLE:
Farmers: 260
Artisans: 50
Servants: 12
Refugees: 120
Notes: Most refugees still giving lip service to the Baron are those that came from various countryside hamlets long before Gunnhildr appeared. Nonetheless, the rest of the people under Roley have served his family and lived in the Crossing their entire lives, holding utmost loyalty to him.
HOPE:
80/100
Notes: The people are in shock at the death of their king and know too well the chaos that will come. The coming of what seems to be religious zealots and bandits does not take weight off their hearts, with the stress in the Crossing rising.
FORCES:
Swordsmen: 3
Notes: Your flock had been, so far, protected by three deserting soldiers from Capital City called Thomas, Martin and Robar. While diligent, they cannot protect everyone, hence the appearance of Troyes was paramount.
FOOD:
35/100
Notes: The food situation is getting tense. With Rowley yet to open his stores due to it being the season of Summer and no direct danger at play, the refugees under your wing are clamoring for more. Much more, considering that many have children to feed.
PEOPLE:
Farmers: 52
Artisans: 2
Refugees: 568
Notes: They basked in your glory and your serenity and soon bent their knees to you as if you were their queen.
HOPE:
95/100
Notes: The death of the King was a small dent in the faith of your flock, however due to the situation with the food and the growing stress within Corrin's Crossing, that might change.
FORCES:
Spearmen: 50
Swordsmen: 25
Knights: 4
Militia: 112
Notes: The core of the forces of Havenshire are made up of surviving soldiers, men-at-arms and knights of the families that were overthrown during Vellcinda's rise. Understanding the coldblooded nature of their masters, they quickly sided with Barton, helping her arm her militia of servants and workers turned militia- which themselves are poorly equipped and trained. For now.
FOOD:
100/100
Notes: Havenshire is an isolated, coastal land, and due to this, Andorhal's grain shipments didn't reach as far as Vellcinda's home. The food stocks are full and ripe with even grapes and various fruits that are home grown, much like the grain of their fields.
PEOPLE:
Farmers: 300
Artisans: 15
Servants: 8
Notes: Being a primarily rural region, Havenshire is a farmer's community, meaning that most know how to till the land and harvest what they can, rather than work on barricades or with metals.
HOPE:
70/100
Notes: While she is the leader at the moment, the maid that took over Havenshire is not all powerful. Many are questioning her ability to lead anything beyond an impromptu revolt, especially during a time like this.
FORCES:
Swordsmen: 60
Knights: 5
Notes: A supplementary force of a lordling, Victor does not command a large force but rather a force paid for with the highest coin that his father could afford, becoming loyal to Victor, whilst being commanded by five knights loyal to his House.
FOOD:
40/100
Notes: Mostly food for Victor's own entourage, Victor also now depends on the foodstuffs given to him by the people and lords of Hearthglen, Bishop Isillien of the Silver Hand, who stands as a regent for the still-young Taelan Fordring.
PEOPLE:
Servants: 20
Notes: A loyal score of servants, both young and old, who have served your family for generations.
HOPE:
80/100
Notes: With the Kingdom looking grimmer and grimmer, the sanctuary of Hearthglen is a welcome reprieve for you, your sisters and retinue.
Next up are OUTSIDERS AND SORCERERS, so 5 more people will be getting in TOMORROW. This is the last call for SORCERERS AND OUTSIDERS.
Name: Horace Padina
Race and Age: Human, 45
Archetype: Commoner
Location: Silverpine
Biography: Born in a small fishing village, Horace spent most of his teenage years and early adulthood transporting fish and other goods by boat, learning how to haggle, asses, and call in favours. Had the Orcish Horde not invaded Azeroth, buying and reselling food and wares in western Lordaeron would've likely been his lot in life till the Light took him.
But as the Orcs constructed ships of war to bear them across the Great Sea, the Alliance fleets expanded in size to deny the Horde free reign over the waves. Horace found himself serving on one of Lordaeron's Battleships that were under the supreme command of Grand Admiral Daelin Proudmoore. For years they engaged in brutal combat against the vile races serving in Doomhammer's fleet, often giving no quarter and expecting none in return. It would be one faithful evening that a Giant Turtle's mind control was broken by the Alliance side and the beast threw aside its Goblin captors to drown in the sea. A paltry spectacle, the little green vermin clinging to life to the last, hopeful to live only to continue their wretched existence if only to serve their own infamous avarice. Still, something made Horace throw the handful of Goblins a rope. Perhaps pity, perhaps curiosity, perhaps the Light itself. Whatever it was, Horace now found himself with a handful of captives who he was put in charge of guarding - a 'reward' from the First Mate for this unsanctioned act of kindness.
The Goblins would prove to be interesting company, one of them, Sluzzfuse, exchanging some tips and tricks of the merchants trade with their new human friend and offhandedly inviting him to visit Booty Bay after the war. Less than two years later, Sluzzfuse would open his door to see as familiar of a face as a Human's could be to him. Horace had tried his luck in departing for Booty Bay and finding his old captive, much to the little green creature's annoyance. But a promise was a promise and an opportunity was an opportunity. This was a human with connections in Lordaeron and Kul Tiras, experienced in trading and sailing. Perhaps a few of his business partners would be open to investing in a ship for Horace to trade with between north and south of the continent.
And trade he would. Quite well even. Over more than a decade, he would open offices in Kul Tiras and Stormwind, invest in mills, manufactures, and craftsmen in Lordaeron, building a proper business network that now generated wealth on its own. So much so, that at many points he was afraid to transport it around if he didn't need it for a trading mission. So he hid much of it throughout Lordaeron. Burying it in the wild or concealing it in unassuming buildings. Fathering a little girl with a Kul Tiran whore along the way, all seemed to be going good for the former fishmonger, but in the icy depths of Northrend, an old Shaman had different ideas for what was to come.
First, the plague destroyed nearly all grain trade in a matter of weeks. Then the total collapse of Lordaeron as a coherent state truly gutted his network in the northern subcontinent. And as Proudmoore took much of the Kul Tiran fleet west, the needs of the market shifted and he could not follow. He tried replacing his suppliers with ones from Stormwind, but as Westfall started falling into lawlessness, only landowners and traders with connections to some Lady in the Royal Council could really hope for enough troops to support their endeavours.
It looked like he would lose everything he ever worked for. Sure, he had enough wealth for several lifetimes, but it was all scattered around Lordaeron, where skeletons hunted the living day and night. All that remained were a few failing offices and unused ships scattered around the continent. Is this how he would end? Falling into debt more and more until some Goblin loanshark sends an Ogre or two to tear off his limbs and throw him into the sea for the turtles, sharks, and what not?
No! He could still go big before he goes broke. He made one last tour of his remaining properties, selling them off along the way and hiring a motely crew of mercenaries; Goblin explosive experts, Evelyn Forest Thugs and Hedge Wizards who found themselves in too deep with the whole uprising idea, Orc stragglers who couldn't reach any of the self-proclaimed Warchiefs, an unusually large and smelly Gnoll.
With his expedition as manned as it can hope to be, and his daughter staying over at Uncle Sluzzfuse 'for a bit', Horace Padina lands in the Silverpine Forest area, fittingly close to his birthplace as he ventures into one last gamble.
Name: Father Guntar (formerly Vizensz Tytus Leha)
Race and Age: Human, 49
Archetype: Priest
Location: The Uplands
Biography:
Father Guntar's journey began in the serene, pastoral Uplands of Northern Alterac, between the mountains and the water. Born to a devout family, young Vizensz, not having good prospects should he remain in his home village, left behind his youth to study at the Silver Light Monastery, where he became learned in a vast array of subjects (for truth be told he had not been particularly pious and in truth held interests in history, such as the Troll Wars). As he came into adulthood, he further studied the arts of war and developed his own physical conditioning, for Mercy could only be the Province of the strong. For surely it was altogether greater to exercise kindness despite capacity for evil, not due to a lack of choice, he justified to his fellows.
But the Monastic lifestyle could not hold his attention forever, and soon he came to grow bored of the peace and tranquility. Indeed, it was with great guilt that his first response to word of invasion by the Demon-Worshipping Orcs and the call of Alliance was excitement, not sympathy for the lost and suffering of the Southern Kingdom. With the more belligerent of his fellows hastily outfitted with the accoutremonts of war, and last-minute scrounging of such manuscripts as would be useful for the war on subjects such as medicine and old strategikons, Vizensz marched to join the Host of Anduin Lothar in the South of Alterac.
With Lothar's Host, he found himself as Cosmopolitan an environment as could be found outside the Great Cities of the Kingdoms of Man; Banners he beheld from every part of the world, united by Faith and Common Cause against the Tides of Darkness! But even in this triumphal moment, he beheld that the contingent of Alterac accounted the meanest number. First battle against the Orcs and the ancient enemies of humanity, the Trolls, quenched his eagerness for war. It was on the shores of Hillsbrad that he found himself truly saved by the Light as time after time he was spared where countless others were not.
Techniques and tactics were developed to fight the mighty Orcs, drawing on historical insights of the Troll Wars and newfound experience. Defensive footwork and timing could see the fingers of an opponent removed by a horizontal strike and sidestep with the two-handed sword, for every fighter needed their fingers to hold a weapon regardless of strength, followed by a passing step and covered thrust to the torso. These things and more he shared to the new recruits, but as ground was lost to the Tides of Darkness, advancing further and further into the Heartland, the answer soon came as to why so few came from his native realm. The Treachery of King Aiden Perenolde saw the Alliance thrown in dissarray, and many disheartened.
In Alterac, he no longer fought only the Orcs and the Trolls, but now men, even kin, alongside soldiers from the old rival Stromgarde. Self-righteousness could only inure one for so long before doubt gripped even one lacking in Compassion and other, kindlier Virtues of the Light. The killing no longer came easily, and the wounds took their toll on his body and mind. And as his Conviction was lost, so too was his protection by Providence, and, during these skirmishes in the mountains, becoming maimed in the right leg by way of thrown spear, he was one of the many Alteraci soldiers finding themselves discharged from the Host of the Alliance out of concern for their continued loyalty, this just being the excuse. Even this insult did not sting as it should have, for in truth he no longer had the stomach for war.
Silver Light Monastary had been destroyed by the time he returned home, and the villages of the Uplands impoverished by the foraging armies of both Alliance and Horde. There were fewer cattle and livestock, fewer people. The next years were a time of hardship, during which time Lordaeron officially annexed Strahnbrad and the North of Alterac. As one with a clerical education and knowledge of the land, he volunteered his services as a Parish Priest for his community and chief liason to the Lordaeronian administration locally. With luke-warm backing, he offically became Father Guntar, burying himself in his duties and running a school out of the local church for the children, and the dedication of a new library for all that remained of his order's literary traditions.
Time marched on, and now word has come of Orcs, on the move to locales unknown. The King of Lordaeron, dead, and the Undead roaming the lands, killing at will. Refugees stream south, each carrying tales of mounting horror. And the old royal family seeks to claw back power and bring war to these lands once again, briganding and pillaging for discredited politics. Father Guntar will not have it, for this talk of Undead smells of Orc mischief to him. Now is the time for unity on the basis of their shared Humanity and their shared Faith. Let us prioritize those matters of import, and strangle the terror before it can commence anew and tenfold in magnitude. Let us take heart, and endure...
Tortharn Hammerale, Exactor of the Ironforge Clans
@Weygand Name: Tortharn Hammerale Race and Age: Dwarf, 131 Archetype: Outsider Location: Tanathil Academy Biography:
Magic is a dangerous profession... and also a expensive one. Very expensive.
Schools and academies often require many rare and unique components, minerals to study or to use in the pursuit of their studies. Gems to conduct arcane energy, pearls to empower evocation spells. Adventurers often provide with these but they are an unreliable and inconstant source. It is in the mines of dwarven prospectors where the great magicians truly rely for their crucial supplies.
Yet not all mages can truly afford the price of these wonders. Some rely on lies and betrayal to obtain with false promises what their purses cannot seize with honesty.
Torthan Hammerale is also special.
For he is not a mere merchant but a Mage Exactor. One of the few dwarves willing and able to travel far and wide to track down debtor magicians in order to recover due payment. By whatever means necessary.
News of the calamitous collapse of the Kingdom reached Hammerale just as he set foot on the Tanathil Academy, long a private partner of his clients. Sullen and grumpy, the determined and obstinate dwarf remains resolute to extract payment from a certain Arellas Fireleaf: One silver coin and twenty two copper coins left from payment delivered on a single Ysemerald per registered transaction forty-six years ago.
Plague? Undead? Monsters? Pah! Hammerale will figure out things once he has fulfilled his job. Bloody mages, its always their fault!
