- Location
- France
It will probably have more impact on the year harvest in Spring.
Good weapons do not give rolls bonus on project, it enhance the result of Raids and reduce loses if you roll badly in most cases.
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Try to survive the Winter: A planquest in Fantasy Colonial America
- Thread starter OldShadow
- Start date
- Fantasy Alt. History
Making Port
Chimeraguard
We do deserve to exist.
Making Port
You make port in one of many docks across the New World, each a prized possession of the Crown. These are the jewels of Empire, the pronouncement of the Sovereign's supremacy over all others. Let the other, lesser nations of the world squabble over the old continent. Spain will be lord unquestioned of the New one.
And it is these colonies that are the King's declaration of so. Bastions of civilization against savagery. God's light in a Pagan land. Fortresses in a realm of madness and barbarism. And churning forges that smelt steel, powder, and men into silver and gold for the royal coffers. The hold of your ship is packed with the raw materials required. Blades and armor, musket and cannon, tools and, perhaps most valuable of all, men to use them, drawn by the promise of land and wealth. They depart your ship laden with the tools of their trade and eyes blazing with the promise of fortune.
This particular port lacks the links to rich mines of silver and gold, but makes up for it in other ways. This land, they say, is the graveyard of kingdoms aplenty, pagans brought low by Spanish steel and Spanish faith. But for each city plundered, it is said that another has fallen into ruin, forgotten, waiting only for a man to seek it out, and find buildings that reach the mountaintops, walls made of solid gold, abandoned houses where every commoner held more silver than all but the richest of nobility.
Exaggerations, surely. But if even a hundredth of what is said is true, there is still more than enough wealth to tempt men to come here by the thousands. This, more than any other land, is the home of the Conquistadors, and it is their compañias that live here, gather supplies and men before their next expedition to either glory or death. Many do not return, a few do return, as strange inhuman things to drag their comrades to Hell with them. But others make the journey back full in body and soul, packs laden with loot and accompanied by columns of war-captives for sale. And so long as the King receives his cut, the flow of materials and men will continue to build this colony, this claim on dead-empires' carcasses, will continue.
That evening, there is a feast with the Governor and his court. Everything is smiles and celebration, dances and decorum. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you hear one man whisper to another a rumor of how the band of Dieguito de Alzedo has turned their backs on God and King alike, hoarding the treasure plundered, the Conquistador declaring himself a-. Guards calmly remove the man from the ballroom, while the Governor laughs a little too loudly and declares a toast to the brave men who are claiming the New World in God's name.
Away from the heady wine and promise of treasure, you take a closer look at the colony claimed to be thriving, and begin to realize just how few here fly the King's colors. Instead there are those of a dozen Captains, never two in one place. The well-guarded streets you realize, are divided up, guards glaring at each other from their posts.
Other areas are not guarded at all. Slums are filled not with beggars, but with blooodshot-eyed veterans with scars and missing limbs. Valuables are stowed away, each guarding their petty treasures like a dragon would its hoard. Any who wander too close are presented with knives, swords, and angry snarls from sweating faces.
This is indeed the land of the Conquistadors. It begins to occur to you that perhaps you had not quite realized how much so, and how little it was anyone else's.
The sounds of gunfire echoes through the streets. For a moment you fear that some native assault has begun, before you realize that the shots came from well within the city. Armed men of a half-dozen colors scramble out. It is only the next day that you hear what has occurred: A squabble within a compañia over the rightful ownership of the most choice bits of plunder turned into an all-out bloodbath. How many are dead from this? A dozen? Two dozen? A hundred? The rumors that fly through taverns raise and lower the counts on a whim, but the faces of those speaking them are not ones who see this as an irregular occurrence.
No. The only thing people are surprised by seems to be that this started within a single compañia, and not a raid upon another.
Upon hearing that, you decide it best to leave with your stock on the 'morrow, lest someone decide your ship is too laden with treasure to let leave. Your ship's hold is already full of new trade goods: More savages captured in recent victories to labor in colonies that are more mines than military bases, artifacts hawked with claims of blessings and curses alike, hollow-eyed veterans laden with treasure who say they have had enough of the New World for ten lifetimes. And of course, booty to be returned to the Peninsula as the crown's share of the conquest. You look at it all and can almost feel something...hungry, grow in the back of your mind.
But such thoughts are interrupted by a pale-faced agent of the Governor. A smile that does not reach the man's eyes is presented to you as he continues to regale to you the glories of the New World and the promising future the colony has, and bids you a safe journey back home.
"Tell them all's well, Captain." He whispers, quietly cramming coins and jewels in your hand with sweaty fingers. "For God's sake. Tell them all's well."
----
A/N: @OldShadow This combined with my other Omake +10 to both save the Colonist die and prevent the meeting with the Escapees from descending into violence.
You make port in one of many docks across the New World, each a prized possession of the Crown. These are the jewels of Empire, the pronouncement of the Sovereign's supremacy over all others. Let the other, lesser nations of the world squabble over the old continent. Spain will be lord unquestioned of the New one.
And it is these colonies that are the King's declaration of so. Bastions of civilization against savagery. God's light in a Pagan land. Fortresses in a realm of madness and barbarism. And churning forges that smelt steel, powder, and men into silver and gold for the royal coffers. The hold of your ship is packed with the raw materials required. Blades and armor, musket and cannon, tools and, perhaps most valuable of all, men to use them, drawn by the promise of land and wealth. They depart your ship laden with the tools of their trade and eyes blazing with the promise of fortune.
This particular port lacks the links to rich mines of silver and gold, but makes up for it in other ways. This land, they say, is the graveyard of kingdoms aplenty, pagans brought low by Spanish steel and Spanish faith. But for each city plundered, it is said that another has fallen into ruin, forgotten, waiting only for a man to seek it out, and find buildings that reach the mountaintops, walls made of solid gold, abandoned houses where every commoner held more silver than all but the richest of nobility.
Exaggerations, surely. But if even a hundredth of what is said is true, there is still more than enough wealth to tempt men to come here by the thousands. This, more than any other land, is the home of the Conquistadors, and it is their compañias that live here, gather supplies and men before their next expedition to either glory or death. Many do not return, a few do return, as strange inhuman things to drag their comrades to Hell with them. But others make the journey back full in body and soul, packs laden with loot and accompanied by columns of war-captives for sale. And so long as the King receives his cut, the flow of materials and men will continue to build this colony, this claim on dead-empires' carcasses, will continue.
That evening, there is a feast with the Governor and his court. Everything is smiles and celebration, dances and decorum. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you hear one man whisper to another a rumor of how the band of Dieguito de Alzedo has turned their backs on God and King alike, hoarding the treasure plundered, the Conquistador declaring himself a-. Guards calmly remove the man from the ballroom, while the Governor laughs a little too loudly and declares a toast to the brave men who are claiming the New World in God's name.
Away from the heady wine and promise of treasure, you take a closer look at the colony claimed to be thriving, and begin to realize just how few here fly the King's colors. Instead there are those of a dozen Captains, never two in one place. The well-guarded streets you realize, are divided up, guards glaring at each other from their posts.
Other areas are not guarded at all. Slums are filled not with beggars, but with blooodshot-eyed veterans with scars and missing limbs. Valuables are stowed away, each guarding their petty treasures like a dragon would its hoard. Any who wander too close are presented with knives, swords, and angry snarls from sweating faces.
This is indeed the land of the Conquistadors. It begins to occur to you that perhaps you had not quite realized how much so, and how little it was anyone else's.
The sounds of gunfire echoes through the streets. For a moment you fear that some native assault has begun, before you realize that the shots came from well within the city. Armed men of a half-dozen colors scramble out. It is only the next day that you hear what has occurred: A squabble within a compañia over the rightful ownership of the most choice bits of plunder turned into an all-out bloodbath. How many are dead from this? A dozen? Two dozen? A hundred? The rumors that fly through taverns raise and lower the counts on a whim, but the faces of those speaking them are not ones who see this as an irregular occurrence.
No. The only thing people are surprised by seems to be that this started within a single compañia, and not a raid upon another.
Upon hearing that, you decide it best to leave with your stock on the 'morrow, lest someone decide your ship is too laden with treasure to let leave. Your ship's hold is already full of new trade goods: More savages captured in recent victories to labor in colonies that are more mines than military bases, artifacts hawked with claims of blessings and curses alike, hollow-eyed veterans laden with treasure who say they have had enough of the New World for ten lifetimes. And of course, booty to be returned to the Peninsula as the crown's share of the conquest. You look at it all and can almost feel something...hungry, grow in the back of your mind.
But such thoughts are interrupted by a pale-faced agent of the Governor. A smile that does not reach the man's eyes is presented to you as he continues to regale to you the glories of the New World and the promising future the colony has, and bids you a safe journey back home.
"Tell them all's well, Captain." He whispers, quietly cramming coins and jewels in your hand with sweaty fingers. "For God's sake. Tell them all's well."
----
A/N: @OldShadow This combined with my other Omake +10 to both save the Colonist die and prevent the meeting with the Escapees from descending into violence.
Last edited:
- Location
- France
Done, and the omake is canon ! Very good work, exactly how I imagined the staging ground for the Spanish Conquest.
You probably had guessed, but the Spanishs do not face Winter.
Winter, for all his cruelty, can force people to unite, abandoning useless prejudices and selfish desires for the common good.
And we wouldn't want that to happen to all those brave Spaniards, don't we ?
Chimeraguard
We do deserve to exist.
No doubt it is far more funny watching two companies go to loot the same ruin.
And kill each other over the treasure.
Accomplishing nothing but providing more things for the next couple Expeditions to kill themselves over.
And kill each other over the treasure.
Accomplishing nothing but providing more things for the next couple Expeditions to kill themselves over.
- Location
- USA
I mean of course they dont face Winter. Their colonies are in the tropics where summer never fades.
You know this quote reminds me of the story of Abram Petrovich Gannibal born a African prince in somewhere in africa stolen away as a child and made a slave then sold to the ottomans and then went russia where he made a career for himself in army as a great engineer and was favored by tsar peter the great himself. Also his great grandson is Alexander pushkin.
Such a fascinating and inspiring story.
Connection is kinda stretch but yeah .
View: https://youtu.be/I6kn_gYCaWw?si=tIp8c9QyxegUxj9_
- Location
- Spain
Not really... I mean between the height of the Andes Mountain Range and how long countries like Argentina or Chile are you have plenty of areas with really cold winters...
Hell, you can find penguins in Argentina, so there is that...
Argentina is a bit farther down than Mexico.
I think the Spanish are only now barely touching the Incas, I think.
K von Carstein
Likes to go for a walk
- Location
- Belgium
- Pronouns
- He
Why would that guy not tell the truth to Spain?
- Location
- California
To not incite investigation, and presumably drag more people into whatever is infecting the local Spanish Colonies.
K von Carstein
Likes to go for a walk
- Location
- Belgium
- Pronouns
- He
Infection? I thought it was just regular greed.
- Location
- California
It's open ended, but consider what's happing to the settlement up North, we shouldn't discount the possibility.
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
Many of the supernatural forces we're facing are exaggerated forms of what the (rather superstitious) English colonists along the Eastern Seaboard already believed to be true. Winter is bleak and deadly and trying to kill you. The natives are a weird and sometimes inscrutable mix of helpful and spectacularly dangerous groups. The land is thickly, sometimes impenetrably forested and the forests very much Do Not Belong To You, the natural impulse is to cower in fear of what devils and witches might stalk those 'unknown' woods.
Again, to be clear, this is about the broad narrative strokes, not about the literalization of those narrative themes into actual-factual monsters that must be killed with pike and shot and pit traps and so on.
...
In keeping with this theme, it is entirely appropriate that the Spanish be having problems caused by demonic forces of greed overtaking their men, fighting among themselves, becoming more and more cruel and grasping. There's probably some really horrific mass-enslavement going on, too, because there was in real life, but there are valid reasons why that wasn't the focus of the camera in the recent omake.
So anyway, the big theme in this setting's colonial America is "everything is sort of recognizable, but with actual magical forces at work to ramp it up." I'm pretty sure that includes the greed and the gold.
K von Carstein
Likes to go for a walk
- Location
- Belgium
- Pronouns
- He
So literally cursed gold like in the Hobbit? That would actually make a lot of sense.
- Location
- France
Fun fact, in most cultures of mesoamerica, gold was considered a sacred material, used mostly for religious purpose and for objects connected with the supernatural.
K von Carstein
Likes to go for a walk
- Location
- Belgium
- Pronouns
- He
So the narrative of the curse would be reinforced by the idea of the local supernatural forces retaliating about the savage invaders who despoiled their loyal followers.
It was also used for regular decorative purposes since it didn't have a monetary value unlike in the Old World.
In fact, for the Aztecs turquoise was more sacred than gold.
- Location
- Hell
If anything, I believe the cacao bean was used as currency instead.
Though I do wonder if these supernatural creatures are strictly an American Phenomenon, or if European are infecting Native Americans with their own problems. (Like if Lycanthropy is spreading or if the Fae are also starting to pop up in the wilds)
Though I do wonder if these supernatural creatures are strictly an American Phenomenon, or if European are infecting Native Americans with their own problems. (Like if Lycanthropy is spreading or if the Fae are also starting to pop up in the wilds)
the european arriving like a hurricane is helping massively fucking things up, killing everyone, spreading dieases physical and spitrutal, ect (like what happens if greedfall if u ever played it)
I think that Big G kind of tamed Europe, with anything big enough to be a true threat being obliterated.
Chimeraguard
We do deserve to exist.
I think it was less Big G and more that the Old World (Europe, the Mediterranean, and the Middle East) has been held by a slew of powerful Empires, and you likely can't get a powerful empire holding that much territory unless you've got a hold on the various local nasties. And part of becoming a powerful empire involves cracking down on them until things are (relatively) safe.
The Hittites, the Egyptians, the Persians, the Romans, etc.
The Mediterranean in particular I imagine is the most "tamed" due to how long a history there's been of major human civilizations there. In the Roman era, I bet Germany was "the place that's filled with supernatural horrors." Well, that and the parts of Britannia beyond Hadrian's Wall.
The Hittites, the Egyptians, the Persians, the Romans, etc.
The Mediterranean in particular I imagine is the most "tamed" due to how long a history there's been of major human civilizations there. In the Roman era, I bet Germany was "the place that's filled with supernatural horrors." Well, that and the parts of Britannia beyond Hadrian's Wall.
Last edited:
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
Not for nothing did the ancient Romans literally have a ritual whereby they would Carmen Sandiego a city's gods out from it to make it easier to conquer...
You may have a point but I think it got super charged with the arrival of Christianity. Because Christianity puts humanity first.
So there's no longer any nature spirit that gets angry if you cut down too many trees, there's only God and he puts mankind first.
GildedSergeant
Tarnished Gold and Rattling Bones
- Location
- Over There
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Demons and witches/warlocks are probably still a problem, but the arrival of Christianity could certainly narrow the breadth of supernatural threats
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
Or, more precisely, motivate marching out and purging a lot of the supernatural stuff with fire until it's all gone and no more than a memory.