- Location
- I think somewhere. I might be nowhere though
I used the same link in your quote
Who Needs Harmony?: An MLP Empire Quest
- Thread starter Questor
- Start date
- Pronouns
- He/him
Alrighty then, that should be fixed now. If not, then I'm sorry for false advertising.
On a seperate note, how were your guys' builds using it?
well this is quite a conundrum I am unsure as to why I can't access it
sorry it seems to still not be working for me it just says "file is in owners trash" do you think you could send me a link?
MLP: Empires of Legends CYOA
- Pronouns
- He/him
Okay, so I have no idea why it won't work, so I just made a brand new PDF.
MLP: Empires of Legends
If that doesn't work, than I shall punish myself by taking away my ability to vote on this Quest ever again.
Man, I just want to read a story with Princess Skitter now. That's such an interesting idea.
The Maretonian Campaign, Part 1
- Location
- Maryland
~Oh he was just a rookie trooper and he surely shook with fright.
He checked all his equipment and made sure his armor straps were tight.
He had to sit and listen to those awesome cannons roar.
And he ain't gonna fly no more!~
An army on the march is a sight to behold, especially one the size of your own. Hundreds of thousands of feet pound the earth in a steady rhythm, the mere passage of such a force eroding the grass and topsoil and wearing away a path through the wilderness. Sunlight glitters off of countless steel blades and armored bodies arranged in column, a cacophony of noise drowning out the ambiance of nature as wagon wheels creak, sheathed weapons bang against armor, and the wings of airborne Griffons beat the air.
But all of that is drowned out by the singing, what you have learned is the inevitable result of gathering together great numbers of people and making them march for any appreciable length of time. Countless voices join together in unison, the beat of the song guiding their feet as they walk in lock-step. It is a sign of good spirits, of an army with good morale.
Though their current choice of musical accompaniment leaves much to be desired, in your opinion.
~The days he'd lived and loved and laughed went running through his mind.
He thought about the girl he left, the one he'd left behind.
He thought about the medics and he wondered what they'd find.
And he ain't gonna fly no more!~
You listen to the jovial tones of the enlisted from your spot at the rear of the column amidst the army's logistics and medical personnel, your impassive expression not giving away the mild unease you feel at hearing such a morbid song as you keep your eyes on the caissons of the artillery section in front of you. You can't say you're that surprised. Nearly half of your army is comprised of veterans of the Winter War, and you've learned that dark humor tends to be a common trait amongst such people. And after having been on the march for more than a week, such cadences are the only ones that haven't been done to death by this point.
It was almost humorous how one could track the passage of the days by the type of songs sung by the troops. When they had first passed under the guns of the Hardbeak Line and started the march South into Maretonia, the music had been patriotic, with lyrics that spoke of the Empire and the Fatherland. Unfortunately, with Gryphus being such a young nation, having only just come back into existence within the past couple of decades, there aren't very many of those. You make a mental note to see about correcting that fact when you return. Then had come the standard marching cadences that every soldier learned in training, some dating back to the days of the first Empire, but those quickly grew stale. They were meant to be repetitive after all, a means of teaching raw recruits the tempo of a proper march. They were very effective at that task, but they weren't very fun to sing.
After that had come some of the more popular folk and drinking songs commonly heard around campfires and in the taverns and alehouses of Gryphus, though due to a combination of professionalism and the co-ed nature of your military the more bawdy tunes were wisely avoided. Unfortunately that restriction had served to cull more than half the songs on the list.
The Canine contingent of your army had sought to contribute some of the songs of their people, but most of those either incorporated literal howls that the majority of your troops couldn't hope to mimic or had lyrics that could be summed up with the words "dogs digging holes". Though, to be fair, a couple of their mining songs had been fairly catchy.
Some of the more devout soldiers had tried to get a few hymns going, but those had died almost as soon as they'd started, mostly due to their less faithful comrades not knowing the tune or the lyrics. It's probably just as well, the last thing your army needs is a possible religious schism.
And you really don't want the Imperial Cultists in the ranks singing your praises as you march through Maretonia. You wouldn't want the locals to get the wrong idea.
Though it's not like your army's current musical performance is making a very good first impression. You can actually tell which Ponies speak Griffonese by the looks on their faces when your troops march past.
~He hit the ground, the sound was splat, his blood went spurting high;
His comrades they were heard to say, "A helluva way to die";
He lay there rolling 'round amidst the welter of his gore.
And he ain't gonna fly no more!~
Were you a different sort of ruler you'd probably try to put a stop to this. But you don't, for three very important reasons.
Firstly, despite the morbid content, the troops are clearly in good spirits, and you don't want to risk hampering morale. Second, you don't wish to be known as the sort of leader who tells his subordinates to stop having fun.
And last and most importantly, Gabriella was one of the first people to start singing this particular number, and is currently amongst the loudest and most cheerful voices in the chorus.
~There was blood upon his scabbard, there were brains upon the grass.
They found his wings a hundred yards out from his sorry ass.
He was a mess, they picked him up and poured him into a glass.
He ain't gonna fly no more!~
Come to think of it, with her mercenary past it's entirely possible she wrote this song, or at least an early version of it. You have no intention of denying her a chance to indulge her nostalgia for her younger days of adventure. And, if you're being honest with yourself, you're not that opposed to the song.
After all, if your own troops can unnerve you like this, you can only imagine how Pegicles and his army will feel.
~Gory, Gory, What a helluva way to die!
Gory, Gory, What a helluva way to die!
Gory, Gory, What a helluva way to die!
He ain't gonna fly no moooore!~
____________________________________________________
The leaves fall from the trees, a chill in the air as your army slowly makes its way deeper into Maretonia. The path it takes has been carefully plotted out in advance, encampment sites marked and supply caches prepared, foodstuffs purchased from local farmers and foreign merchants or donated by the Abolitionists supplementing the diets of salted meat, hardtack and canned vegetables that arrive by the day in long convoys of carts and wagons hauled all the way from the Crystal City. In it's wake, a second, smaller force of laborers, surveyors and engineers works feverishly to construct a rail-line through the countryside, a means of more rapidly and reliably supplying your forces as they venture further from home than they ever have before.
With an army this size, and supply lines this long, maintaining a secure logistical tail is an absolute must, a task so important that you assign an entire Knightly Order, the Crystal Guardians, to act as a rearguard and security for your supply train. You don't have much to worry about while traveling through Abolitionist territory, but once your troops pass into the realm of House Storm things are going to become much less certain. If worst comes to worst your troops can forage for supplies, but you'd prefer to avoid doing so if at all possible.
(Maretonian Reaction: 61+10(Imperial Aid)+15 (Devastation)= 86)
While you had feared that the Maretonian people would react with hostility to foreign soldiers on their soil, the reception your troops receive from the inhabitants of the towns and villages you pass is ambivalent at the very worst (you're thankful that your soldiers have the presence of mind to switch to less macabre marching songs when passing through them.) Hundreds of Maretonians gather along the roadside to gawk. For many, this is their first time seeing a Griffon, let alone knights, cannons, and the monarchs of a foreign land. You can understand the looks of awe on their faces as you pass them by. You smile and return the enthusiastic waves of the foals who spy you in your gilded armor, relieved at the way their parents and older siblings make no move to stop them from doing so.
You suppose you shouldn't be too surprised. These Ponies are not Pegicles' supporters, but ordinary civilians, many of whom have been displaced from their original homes by the fighting, who benefitted from the aid you had arranged to be distributed through the Royal Guard, and who had suffered greatly when that aid had been brutally cut off with the destruction of Roam. Many of the "settlements" you pass are little more than collections of tents and crude mobile homes, the constantly shifting battle lines and scarcity of resources having forced many into a nomadic lifestyle. After years of bloody civil war, most are likely praying for the conflict to finally come to an end, regardless of how it does and who the victor might be. Still, you're relieved to know that your worst fears of a divided Maretonia reuniting to fight you are unfounded, at least at this stage.
On the 12th day of march, you arrive at the final encampment site within Abolitionist territory, just before the vague, ever-shifting border of House Storm Territory. It is there you link up with your allies of convenience for this campaign: the Army of the Abolitionists, and the remnants of the Maretonian Royal Guard.
Sadly, neither faction is able to devote a hundred percent of their resources and personnel to the task of combatting Pegicles. In the chaos of the Civil War, numerous groups of bandits and bands of rogue mercenaries have taken to marauding the countryside, and while House White Star no longer possesses a cohesive fighting force, some of the forces that had once pledged fealty to Duke Haygle now harass and attack any targets of opportunity, the impoverished nobles desperately seeking to avenge past grudges and regain a modicum of the power and wealth that the war has cost them. As such, both of your allies must devote significant forces to the task of combatting these secondary threats, lest they be attacked from the rear or have their own lines of supply threatened.
Your own forces did, of course, do what they could to help with this issue, small detachments of knights and soldiers breaking off from the column to patrol the skies, striking at any groups of brigands they could spot from the air.
You dare say that they made a bit of dent in the number of raiders that the local authorities will have to deal with, before they returned to the main body of your force. The act earned you some goodwill with the locals, at the very least. You wish you could do more, but you have to conserve your strength and energy for your true enemy.
All that being said, both Ambrosia and Pranceus have committed the bulk of their forces to this offensive, what they hope will be the knock out blow that removes House Storm as a threat. As to what happens afterwards…well, you'll all cross that bridge when you come to it.
The Army erects it's tents in friendly territory for one final time as Imperial Soldiers are greeted enthusiastically by the Ponies, Dogs and Donkeys of the Abolitionist cause, even as the Armored forms of the Royal Guardsponies stoically keep their distance from both of their newfound allies. Whether they do so out of a sense of mistrust, superiority, or simple professional stoicism isn't apparent. Still, you suppose you don't have to be best friends with someone to work with them, especially when you both agree that you hate a third party more than you could ever hate each other.
Viewed from above the three camps seem to almost merge into one, a tent city in the truest sense as an army larger than any other in living memory gathers to strike a blow against a mad warlord and would-be tyrant.
Being near the rear of the column, you and Gabriella are among the last Griffons to arrive in the encampment, and thus among the last to enter the command tent, where the meeting of the commanders of the Three Armies is already underway. You walk in just in time to catch a snippet of conversation between Colonel (formerly Captain) Nightail, and one Burro Delver, the commander of the Abolitionist contingent.
Prior to your decision to intervene directly, Oscar Nightail had been the highest ranked Imperial Soldier in Maretonia, charged with coordinating the supply and training of the Abolitionist forces and commanding the numerous military advisors that you had dispatched to help create the very army that will soon be marching alongside yours.
Burro Delver, despite being several years Nightail's senior, had been one his best students in the realm of tactics and leadership when he had been working to train a new breed of Rebel officers, to the point that he had officially recommended him to Ambrosia as a promising field commander. You aren't surprised to find the Jack in charge of the army of liberated slaves.
"I'm not asking who would win in a fight, I'm asking if a Grandmaster outranks a Colonel."
"And you think that those questions aren't related?"
The dark-feathered Griffon's grin slides off his face as he spots you out of the corner of his eye, swiftly turning and offering up a crisp salute. His Abolitionist counterpart follows his line of sight with some confusion, his eyes widening as he realizes exactly who has entered the tent. You see him hesitate, likely unsure of whether to mimic his friend's gesture, before offering up a simple nod of respect.
Understandable. You're not really in his chain of command, and you're certainly not his monarch, so he doesn't really have any reason to bow or scrape to you…not that you want him to.
"At ease."
You look past the two veterans of the Civil War and take in the other inhabitants of the tent. The Grandmasters of the Knightly Orders, several of the highest ranking officers in your army, the Three Canterburian Mages, and, at the farthest end of the tent, glaring disdainfully down at the map of his homeland, Jewelius Pranceus, the defacto leader of the remnants of the Royal Guard. Though he has not taken the title of Captain-General, he might as well be.
The Unicorn glances up from the unrolled parchment, looking up at you as you proceed deeper into the tent, glancing down at the map yourself. You see the briefest twitch of his facial expression before the stoic mask cultivated by so many of his fellows slides back into place.
"Good of you to finally join us."
You're not certain if he's referring to Gryphus joining the war effort or you joining the conference. Perhaps both. Regardless, you don't rise to the bait of what could be interpreted as a passive aggressive barb aimed at you and your fellows. This stallion has seen everything he once held dear come crashing down around him over the course of the past few years, and found himself thrust into a position of authority with an almost impossible task before him. He's earned the right to be angry…you just hope that he and his will direct that anger towards the appropriate targets.
Gabriella, showing a surprising amount of restraint, merely snorts, sidling up next to you and not even looking at Pranceus. The quiet conversations that had been ongoing prior to your arrival peter out as the tent's inhabitants gather around the map, the war council coming to order. A light shines from Pranceus' horn, highlighting the border between Abolitionist and House Storm territory.
"Over the last week, we've seen a gradual reduction in hostile probing attacks and aerial patrols along the frontline. Our scouts have witnessed multiple Storm units moving South, deeper into Pegicles' core territory, often abandoning the villages and plantations that they had been assigned to guard. We believe that he is seeking to concentrate his forces for a battle of decision."
You nod contemplatively. It's likely that word of your arrival in Maretonia has reached Pegicles' ears by now. You'd tried to conceal your military buildup, but there's nothing in existence that can hide an army this size when it's on the warpath. The number of fighters he can claim to possess is but a fraction of those you have at your disposal…but war is more than mere numbers, and most battles typically favor the defender.
Burro Delver pipes up, gesturing with a hoof towards a specific point on the map.
"We received a report from one of our spies within Storm territory just a few hours ago. He claimed to have seen a large number of Storm troops, several thousand at least, gathering here, in the Hoof River Valley."
You examine the indicated spot on the map. The area is smack dab in the middle of your current position and Mare-a-Thon. You're familiar with the location. In the months of planning that had led up to this campaign, it had been designated one of several routes through Maretonia that would be ideal for your army to pass through.
The valley in question is a wide gap between two mountains, carved away and widened by the river over the course of countless centuries. This time of year the river in question is more of a stream, but it's still a source of fresh water for an armed force such as yours or Pegicles'. Not going through the pass would not only deny your force a ready source of hydration and extend your already lengthy line of supply, but would also add a significant amount of time to any journey towards Pegicles' airborne citadel as you skirt your way around the mountains. And who knows what he would do with that extra time?
It's a classic example of a blocking position, and it reminds you a great deal of the Redstone Pass where you had intercepted Sombra's army so very long ago.
One of your officers speaks up, the commander of the Diamond Dog units, a Brigadier Boneapart. You've heard of him. He'd been among the first Diamond Dogs to join the Imperial Army, and had in fact served in the latter stages of the Winter War despite being little more than a teenager at the time, having lied about his age in order to enlist. His experience, keen sense of tactics, and natural charisma had led him up the ranks to become the highest ranking Diamond Dog in the Imperial Military. The only canine more famous to the inhabitants of Gryphus at this point was Captain Kaboom himself, and the only reason he hadn't been placed in charge of the Dog Brigade was because he'd refused any promotion over the rank of Major. You reckon he didn't want to have to deal with the paperwork.
The spotted canine glances between the map and the two Maretonian commanders.
"Has there been any sign of Pegicles trying to create another storm?"
A sudden hush falls over the tent. That had been one of your biggest fears going into this campaign, that your army would meet the fate of House White Star and be wiped out by another massive storm.
Delver and Pranceus shake their heads, the donkey responding in the negative.
"We've seen nothing to suggest that. And unleashing such a force of destruction in his own territory would hurt him just as much as it would hurt us."
He shrugs.
"Truthfully I'm not even sure he could make another superstorm even if he wanted to. He had to march all the way to the ocean to make the last one after all."
All eyes in the tent turn to Rafale and Merlin. The two Canterburians nod in agreement. A sigh of relief sweeps through the gathering. You won't have to worry about another superstorm. Just regular storms, along with any other meteorological tricks an army comprised mostly of Pegasi can dream up.
You drum your talons against the ground, silently considering. It seems that Pegicles is rolling out the red carpet for you. The only question is, do you choose to walk down it?
[ ] Direct Confrontation: You have the numbers. You have Cannons. You have your Knights. You have multiple battle mages and Orichalcum blades. You have almost every advantage possible, so you see no reason to avoid a fight. If you are to have a quick journey and a secure supply line you must travel through that valley. Besides, giving Pegicles extra time to rally his forces and reinforce Mare-A-Thon can only hurt you, and there's a possibility that if you bypass the force in the valley, they could try to attack you from behind, or launch an attack against your supply line. Best to take the most direct route and simply crush any resistance you encounter along the way.
[ ]The Long Way Around: You see no reason to let Pegicles choose the site of your first battle. Going around the mountains will take longer and stretch your supply lines, but it will be worth it to avoid what is likely to be a prepared and fortified force of Storm Soldiers. Mare-A-Thon will be where the real fight takes place. Best to conserve your strength for when you finally assault that floating fortress.
[ ] Write-In
Imperial Army of Gryphus
25,000 Warriors
12,500 Polearms
12,500 Arbalists
3000 Diamond Dogs
28 Mobile Ballistae
59 Cannons
20 Flame Projectors
Canterburian Mages
Archmage Merlin Ambrosius
Sky Mage Rafale
Earth Mage Puissant Arbre
Imperial Knightly Orders
The Black Watch
22 Black Knights (Black Steel Armor and Weapons)
The Knights Lion
Grandmaster Konrad Hardbeak, (Orichalcum Katana, Runic Armor)
33 Knights of the Inner Circle (Black Steel Weapons)
250 Imperial Knights
300 Squires
600 Griffons-at-Arms
200 Diamond Knights
The Knights Talon
Grandmaster Colombroni Pigeonio (Orichalcum Blade, Runic Armor)
23 Knights of the Inner Circle (Black Steel Weapons)
300 Imperial Knights
250 Squires
500 Griffons-at-Arms
200 Diamond Knights
The Knights Panther
Grandmaster Adrian Dawnquill (Orichalcum Blade, Runic Armor)
28 Knights of the Inner Circle (Black Steel Weapons)
250 Imperial Knights
300 Squires
600 Griffons-at-Arms
200 Diamond Knights
Abolitionist Forces
4,500 Freedom Fighters
2,500 Polearms
2,000 Arbalists
9 Cannons
8 Maretonian Battle-Mages
Maretonian Royal Guard
1100 Pegasi Thunderers
400 Earth Pony Ground-Pounders
50 Unicorn Spell Soldiers
18 Maretonian Battle-Mages
There will be a 24 hour moratorium to allow for discussion before voting commences. Feel free to ask any questions if I failed to address anything important.
He checked all his equipment and made sure his armor straps were tight.
He had to sit and listen to those awesome cannons roar.
And he ain't gonna fly no more!~
An army on the march is a sight to behold, especially one the size of your own. Hundreds of thousands of feet pound the earth in a steady rhythm, the mere passage of such a force eroding the grass and topsoil and wearing away a path through the wilderness. Sunlight glitters off of countless steel blades and armored bodies arranged in column, a cacophony of noise drowning out the ambiance of nature as wagon wheels creak, sheathed weapons bang against armor, and the wings of airborne Griffons beat the air.
But all of that is drowned out by the singing, what you have learned is the inevitable result of gathering together great numbers of people and making them march for any appreciable length of time. Countless voices join together in unison, the beat of the song guiding their feet as they walk in lock-step. It is a sign of good spirits, of an army with good morale.
Though their current choice of musical accompaniment leaves much to be desired, in your opinion.
~The days he'd lived and loved and laughed went running through his mind.
He thought about the girl he left, the one he'd left behind.
He thought about the medics and he wondered what they'd find.
And he ain't gonna fly no more!~
You listen to the jovial tones of the enlisted from your spot at the rear of the column amidst the army's logistics and medical personnel, your impassive expression not giving away the mild unease you feel at hearing such a morbid song as you keep your eyes on the caissons of the artillery section in front of you. You can't say you're that surprised. Nearly half of your army is comprised of veterans of the Winter War, and you've learned that dark humor tends to be a common trait amongst such people. And after having been on the march for more than a week, such cadences are the only ones that haven't been done to death by this point.
It was almost humorous how one could track the passage of the days by the type of songs sung by the troops. When they had first passed under the guns of the Hardbeak Line and started the march South into Maretonia, the music had been patriotic, with lyrics that spoke of the Empire and the Fatherland. Unfortunately, with Gryphus being such a young nation, having only just come back into existence within the past couple of decades, there aren't very many of those. You make a mental note to see about correcting that fact when you return. Then had come the standard marching cadences that every soldier learned in training, some dating back to the days of the first Empire, but those quickly grew stale. They were meant to be repetitive after all, a means of teaching raw recruits the tempo of a proper march. They were very effective at that task, but they weren't very fun to sing.
After that had come some of the more popular folk and drinking songs commonly heard around campfires and in the taverns and alehouses of Gryphus, though due to a combination of professionalism and the co-ed nature of your military the more bawdy tunes were wisely avoided. Unfortunately that restriction had served to cull more than half the songs on the list.
The Canine contingent of your army had sought to contribute some of the songs of their people, but most of those either incorporated literal howls that the majority of your troops couldn't hope to mimic or had lyrics that could be summed up with the words "dogs digging holes". Though, to be fair, a couple of their mining songs had been fairly catchy.
Some of the more devout soldiers had tried to get a few hymns going, but those had died almost as soon as they'd started, mostly due to their less faithful comrades not knowing the tune or the lyrics. It's probably just as well, the last thing your army needs is a possible religious schism.
And you really don't want the Imperial Cultists in the ranks singing your praises as you march through Maretonia. You wouldn't want the locals to get the wrong idea.
Though it's not like your army's current musical performance is making a very good first impression. You can actually tell which Ponies speak Griffonese by the looks on their faces when your troops march past.
~He hit the ground, the sound was splat, his blood went spurting high;
His comrades they were heard to say, "A helluva way to die";
He lay there rolling 'round amidst the welter of his gore.
And he ain't gonna fly no more!~
Were you a different sort of ruler you'd probably try to put a stop to this. But you don't, for three very important reasons.
Firstly, despite the morbid content, the troops are clearly in good spirits, and you don't want to risk hampering morale. Second, you don't wish to be known as the sort of leader who tells his subordinates to stop having fun.
And last and most importantly, Gabriella was one of the first people to start singing this particular number, and is currently amongst the loudest and most cheerful voices in the chorus.
~There was blood upon his scabbard, there were brains upon the grass.
They found his wings a hundred yards out from his sorry ass.
He was a mess, they picked him up and poured him into a glass.
He ain't gonna fly no more!~
Come to think of it, with her mercenary past it's entirely possible she wrote this song, or at least an early version of it. You have no intention of denying her a chance to indulge her nostalgia for her younger days of adventure. And, if you're being honest with yourself, you're not that opposed to the song.
After all, if your own troops can unnerve you like this, you can only imagine how Pegicles and his army will feel.
~Gory, Gory, What a helluva way to die!
Gory, Gory, What a helluva way to die!
Gory, Gory, What a helluva way to die!
He ain't gonna fly no moooore!~
____________________________________________________
The leaves fall from the trees, a chill in the air as your army slowly makes its way deeper into Maretonia. The path it takes has been carefully plotted out in advance, encampment sites marked and supply caches prepared, foodstuffs purchased from local farmers and foreign merchants or donated by the Abolitionists supplementing the diets of salted meat, hardtack and canned vegetables that arrive by the day in long convoys of carts and wagons hauled all the way from the Crystal City. In it's wake, a second, smaller force of laborers, surveyors and engineers works feverishly to construct a rail-line through the countryside, a means of more rapidly and reliably supplying your forces as they venture further from home than they ever have before.
With an army this size, and supply lines this long, maintaining a secure logistical tail is an absolute must, a task so important that you assign an entire Knightly Order, the Crystal Guardians, to act as a rearguard and security for your supply train. You don't have much to worry about while traveling through Abolitionist territory, but once your troops pass into the realm of House Storm things are going to become much less certain. If worst comes to worst your troops can forage for supplies, but you'd prefer to avoid doing so if at all possible.
(Maretonian Reaction: 61+10(Imperial Aid)+15 (Devastation)= 86)
While you had feared that the Maretonian people would react with hostility to foreign soldiers on their soil, the reception your troops receive from the inhabitants of the towns and villages you pass is ambivalent at the very worst (you're thankful that your soldiers have the presence of mind to switch to less macabre marching songs when passing through them.) Hundreds of Maretonians gather along the roadside to gawk. For many, this is their first time seeing a Griffon, let alone knights, cannons, and the monarchs of a foreign land. You can understand the looks of awe on their faces as you pass them by. You smile and return the enthusiastic waves of the foals who spy you in your gilded armor, relieved at the way their parents and older siblings make no move to stop them from doing so.
You suppose you shouldn't be too surprised. These Ponies are not Pegicles' supporters, but ordinary civilians, many of whom have been displaced from their original homes by the fighting, who benefitted from the aid you had arranged to be distributed through the Royal Guard, and who had suffered greatly when that aid had been brutally cut off with the destruction of Roam. Many of the "settlements" you pass are little more than collections of tents and crude mobile homes, the constantly shifting battle lines and scarcity of resources having forced many into a nomadic lifestyle. After years of bloody civil war, most are likely praying for the conflict to finally come to an end, regardless of how it does and who the victor might be. Still, you're relieved to know that your worst fears of a divided Maretonia reuniting to fight you are unfounded, at least at this stage.
On the 12th day of march, you arrive at the final encampment site within Abolitionist territory, just before the vague, ever-shifting border of House Storm Territory. It is there you link up with your allies of convenience for this campaign: the Army of the Abolitionists, and the remnants of the Maretonian Royal Guard.
Sadly, neither faction is able to devote a hundred percent of their resources and personnel to the task of combatting Pegicles. In the chaos of the Civil War, numerous groups of bandits and bands of rogue mercenaries have taken to marauding the countryside, and while House White Star no longer possesses a cohesive fighting force, some of the forces that had once pledged fealty to Duke Haygle now harass and attack any targets of opportunity, the impoverished nobles desperately seeking to avenge past grudges and regain a modicum of the power and wealth that the war has cost them. As such, both of your allies must devote significant forces to the task of combatting these secondary threats, lest they be attacked from the rear or have their own lines of supply threatened.
Your own forces did, of course, do what they could to help with this issue, small detachments of knights and soldiers breaking off from the column to patrol the skies, striking at any groups of brigands they could spot from the air.
He had been born on a small farm in the northernmost reaches of what had been the Kingdom of Griffonia, many years before the end of the reign of Discord. Ever since his induction into the Order of Knights Lion, he had risen through the ranks of the ancient brotherhood through a combination of courage, discipline, leadership, and peerless skill with a blade. None of his fellow Knights had bested him in a duel in decades. None had matched his feats of arms since the era of the First Empire.
His armor, jet black and masterfully crafted, is polished to an almost reflective sheen, the symbol of his order carefully engraved upon his chest: a roaring lion, it's claws extended as it pounces towards unseen prey. His pauldron bears the symbol of the Blackwatch, a downward facing sword with a wing-shaped cross-guard. His weapon is unlike any other in the ranks of the Army of Gryphus: a long, curved, single-edged blade, forged from pure Orichalcum.
To his birth parents, he was simply Konrad. A young, scrawny boy virtually indistinguishable from any other peasant Griffon born on an unremarkable farm in the age of Chaos. To the Empire, he is the hero Hardbeak, Champion of the realm. To his enemies, he is vengeance incarnate in midnight plate.
It is for that reason that nopony moves when he suddenly lands in the middle of the dimly lit encampment.
The raiders and bandits are frozen in place. More than one has been sent sprawling by the force of his impact with the ground. Others are simply struck dumb by the nature of his arrival, rooted in place by his aura.
The tense silence is broken by the stranger amongst them, the Griffon's low voice audible over the crackle of the small cooking fire that had illuminated their position.
"Good Evening."
The raiders finally wrap their heads around what has happened. Some go for blades mounted upon their hips, others for weapons piled haphazardly around the camp.
The Griffon doesn't even move.
"If you continue with this course of action, all of you will be cut down where you stand."
The raiders look at his blade, still sheathed at his side. They take in his relaxed posture, completely unconcerned despite being surrounded and grossly outnumbered. They very slowly withdraw their hooves from their weapons.
Hardbeak nods minutely. It is the only movement he has made since landing amongst the rabble.
"You do not know who I am, nor I you. What I do know is that there have been many reports in this area of travelers being forced to surrender their valuables at the tip of a sword."
His head turns, his eyes, partially hidden by his helm, sweeping over the collection of bedraggled Maretonians. Some of them flinch under his gaze.
"And yet I see no such valuables present. So either you are not the highwayponies in question…or you have been collecting such goods to be handed over to someone else. A self-styled 'bandit lord' perhaps?"
One of the brigands, braver, or perhaps stupider than the rest, steps forward with a snarl. He is a dirty, rough looking unicorn with a coat and mane the color of mud.
"We don't have to tell you shit!"
Hardbeak is upon him in an instant. Faster than any of the bandits can follow. Faster than any being in heavy plate armor has any right to be.
"If you are not willing to speak, then your utility to me is limited. I am an understanding Griffon, but my mercy has it's limits. And those who prey upon the weak and innocent as you do severely test those limits."
The cutting edge of his now unsheathed blade is held uncomfortably close to the stallion's neck.
"I would advise you to choose your next words with great care."
His armor, jet black and masterfully crafted, is polished to an almost reflective sheen, the symbol of his order carefully engraved upon his chest: a roaring lion, it's claws extended as it pounces towards unseen prey. His pauldron bears the symbol of the Blackwatch, a downward facing sword with a wing-shaped cross-guard. His weapon is unlike any other in the ranks of the Army of Gryphus: a long, curved, single-edged blade, forged from pure Orichalcum.
To his birth parents, he was simply Konrad. A young, scrawny boy virtually indistinguishable from any other peasant Griffon born on an unremarkable farm in the age of Chaos. To the Empire, he is the hero Hardbeak, Champion of the realm. To his enemies, he is vengeance incarnate in midnight plate.
It is for that reason that nopony moves when he suddenly lands in the middle of the dimly lit encampment.
The raiders and bandits are frozen in place. More than one has been sent sprawling by the force of his impact with the ground. Others are simply struck dumb by the nature of his arrival, rooted in place by his aura.
The tense silence is broken by the stranger amongst them, the Griffon's low voice audible over the crackle of the small cooking fire that had illuminated their position.
"Good Evening."
The raiders finally wrap their heads around what has happened. Some go for blades mounted upon their hips, others for weapons piled haphazardly around the camp.
The Griffon doesn't even move.
"If you continue with this course of action, all of you will be cut down where you stand."
The raiders look at his blade, still sheathed at his side. They take in his relaxed posture, completely unconcerned despite being surrounded and grossly outnumbered. They very slowly withdraw their hooves from their weapons.
Hardbeak nods minutely. It is the only movement he has made since landing amongst the rabble.
"You do not know who I am, nor I you. What I do know is that there have been many reports in this area of travelers being forced to surrender their valuables at the tip of a sword."
His head turns, his eyes, partially hidden by his helm, sweeping over the collection of bedraggled Maretonians. Some of them flinch under his gaze.
"And yet I see no such valuables present. So either you are not the highwayponies in question…or you have been collecting such goods to be handed over to someone else. A self-styled 'bandit lord' perhaps?"
One of the brigands, braver, or perhaps stupider than the rest, steps forward with a snarl. He is a dirty, rough looking unicorn with a coat and mane the color of mud.
"We don't have to tell you shit!"
Hardbeak is upon him in an instant. Faster than any of the bandits can follow. Faster than any being in heavy plate armor has any right to be.
"If you are not willing to speak, then your utility to me is limited. I am an understanding Griffon, but my mercy has it's limits. And those who prey upon the weak and innocent as you do severely test those limits."
The cutting edge of his now unsheathed blade is held uncomfortably close to the stallion's neck.
"I would advise you to choose your next words with great care."
You dare say that they made a bit of dent in the number of raiders that the local authorities will have to deal with, before they returned to the main body of your force. The act earned you some goodwill with the locals, at the very least. You wish you could do more, but you have to conserve your strength and energy for your true enemy.
All that being said, both Ambrosia and Pranceus have committed the bulk of their forces to this offensive, what they hope will be the knock out blow that removes House Storm as a threat. As to what happens afterwards…well, you'll all cross that bridge when you come to it.
The Army erects it's tents in friendly territory for one final time as Imperial Soldiers are greeted enthusiastically by the Ponies, Dogs and Donkeys of the Abolitionist cause, even as the Armored forms of the Royal Guardsponies stoically keep their distance from both of their newfound allies. Whether they do so out of a sense of mistrust, superiority, or simple professional stoicism isn't apparent. Still, you suppose you don't have to be best friends with someone to work with them, especially when you both agree that you hate a third party more than you could ever hate each other.
Viewed from above the three camps seem to almost merge into one, a tent city in the truest sense as an army larger than any other in living memory gathers to strike a blow against a mad warlord and would-be tyrant.
Being near the rear of the column, you and Gabriella are among the last Griffons to arrive in the encampment, and thus among the last to enter the command tent, where the meeting of the commanders of the Three Armies is already underway. You walk in just in time to catch a snippet of conversation between Colonel (formerly Captain) Nightail, and one Burro Delver, the commander of the Abolitionist contingent.
Prior to your decision to intervene directly, Oscar Nightail had been the highest ranked Imperial Soldier in Maretonia, charged with coordinating the supply and training of the Abolitionist forces and commanding the numerous military advisors that you had dispatched to help create the very army that will soon be marching alongside yours.
Burro Delver, despite being several years Nightail's senior, had been one his best students in the realm of tactics and leadership when he had been working to train a new breed of Rebel officers, to the point that he had officially recommended him to Ambrosia as a promising field commander. You aren't surprised to find the Jack in charge of the army of liberated slaves.
"I'm not asking who would win in a fight, I'm asking if a Grandmaster outranks a Colonel."
"And you think that those questions aren't related?"
The dark-feathered Griffon's grin slides off his face as he spots you out of the corner of his eye, swiftly turning and offering up a crisp salute. His Abolitionist counterpart follows his line of sight with some confusion, his eyes widening as he realizes exactly who has entered the tent. You see him hesitate, likely unsure of whether to mimic his friend's gesture, before offering up a simple nod of respect.
Understandable. You're not really in his chain of command, and you're certainly not his monarch, so he doesn't really have any reason to bow or scrape to you…not that you want him to.
"At ease."
You look past the two veterans of the Civil War and take in the other inhabitants of the tent. The Grandmasters of the Knightly Orders, several of the highest ranking officers in your army, the Three Canterburian Mages, and, at the farthest end of the tent, glaring disdainfully down at the map of his homeland, Jewelius Pranceus, the defacto leader of the remnants of the Royal Guard. Though he has not taken the title of Captain-General, he might as well be.
The Unicorn glances up from the unrolled parchment, looking up at you as you proceed deeper into the tent, glancing down at the map yourself. You see the briefest twitch of his facial expression before the stoic mask cultivated by so many of his fellows slides back into place.
"Good of you to finally join us."
You're not certain if he's referring to Gryphus joining the war effort or you joining the conference. Perhaps both. Regardless, you don't rise to the bait of what could be interpreted as a passive aggressive barb aimed at you and your fellows. This stallion has seen everything he once held dear come crashing down around him over the course of the past few years, and found himself thrust into a position of authority with an almost impossible task before him. He's earned the right to be angry…you just hope that he and his will direct that anger towards the appropriate targets.
Gabriella, showing a surprising amount of restraint, merely snorts, sidling up next to you and not even looking at Pranceus. The quiet conversations that had been ongoing prior to your arrival peter out as the tent's inhabitants gather around the map, the war council coming to order. A light shines from Pranceus' horn, highlighting the border between Abolitionist and House Storm territory.
"Over the last week, we've seen a gradual reduction in hostile probing attacks and aerial patrols along the frontline. Our scouts have witnessed multiple Storm units moving South, deeper into Pegicles' core territory, often abandoning the villages and plantations that they had been assigned to guard. We believe that he is seeking to concentrate his forces for a battle of decision."
You nod contemplatively. It's likely that word of your arrival in Maretonia has reached Pegicles' ears by now. You'd tried to conceal your military buildup, but there's nothing in existence that can hide an army this size when it's on the warpath. The number of fighters he can claim to possess is but a fraction of those you have at your disposal…but war is more than mere numbers, and most battles typically favor the defender.
Burro Delver pipes up, gesturing with a hoof towards a specific point on the map.
"We received a report from one of our spies within Storm territory just a few hours ago. He claimed to have seen a large number of Storm troops, several thousand at least, gathering here, in the Hoof River Valley."
You examine the indicated spot on the map. The area is smack dab in the middle of your current position and Mare-a-Thon. You're familiar with the location. In the months of planning that had led up to this campaign, it had been designated one of several routes through Maretonia that would be ideal for your army to pass through.
The valley in question is a wide gap between two mountains, carved away and widened by the river over the course of countless centuries. This time of year the river in question is more of a stream, but it's still a source of fresh water for an armed force such as yours or Pegicles'. Not going through the pass would not only deny your force a ready source of hydration and extend your already lengthy line of supply, but would also add a significant amount of time to any journey towards Pegicles' airborne citadel as you skirt your way around the mountains. And who knows what he would do with that extra time?
It's a classic example of a blocking position, and it reminds you a great deal of the Redstone Pass where you had intercepted Sombra's army so very long ago.
One of your officers speaks up, the commander of the Diamond Dog units, a Brigadier Boneapart. You've heard of him. He'd been among the first Diamond Dogs to join the Imperial Army, and had in fact served in the latter stages of the Winter War despite being little more than a teenager at the time, having lied about his age in order to enlist. His experience, keen sense of tactics, and natural charisma had led him up the ranks to become the highest ranking Diamond Dog in the Imperial Military. The only canine more famous to the inhabitants of Gryphus at this point was Captain Kaboom himself, and the only reason he hadn't been placed in charge of the Dog Brigade was because he'd refused any promotion over the rank of Major. You reckon he didn't want to have to deal with the paperwork.
The spotted canine glances between the map and the two Maretonian commanders.
"Has there been any sign of Pegicles trying to create another storm?"
A sudden hush falls over the tent. That had been one of your biggest fears going into this campaign, that your army would meet the fate of House White Star and be wiped out by another massive storm.
Delver and Pranceus shake their heads, the donkey responding in the negative.
"We've seen nothing to suggest that. And unleashing such a force of destruction in his own territory would hurt him just as much as it would hurt us."
He shrugs.
"Truthfully I'm not even sure he could make another superstorm even if he wanted to. He had to march all the way to the ocean to make the last one after all."
All eyes in the tent turn to Rafale and Merlin. The two Canterburians nod in agreement. A sigh of relief sweeps through the gathering. You won't have to worry about another superstorm. Just regular storms, along with any other meteorological tricks an army comprised mostly of Pegasi can dream up.
You drum your talons against the ground, silently considering. It seems that Pegicles is rolling out the red carpet for you. The only question is, do you choose to walk down it?
[ ] Direct Confrontation: You have the numbers. You have Cannons. You have your Knights. You have multiple battle mages and Orichalcum blades. You have almost every advantage possible, so you see no reason to avoid a fight. If you are to have a quick journey and a secure supply line you must travel through that valley. Besides, giving Pegicles extra time to rally his forces and reinforce Mare-A-Thon can only hurt you, and there's a possibility that if you bypass the force in the valley, they could try to attack you from behind, or launch an attack against your supply line. Best to take the most direct route and simply crush any resistance you encounter along the way.
[ ]The Long Way Around: You see no reason to let Pegicles choose the site of your first battle. Going around the mountains will take longer and stretch your supply lines, but it will be worth it to avoid what is likely to be a prepared and fortified force of Storm Soldiers. Mare-A-Thon will be where the real fight takes place. Best to conserve your strength for when you finally assault that floating fortress.
[ ] Write-In
Imperial Army of Gryphus
25,000 Warriors
12,500 Polearms
12,500 Arbalists
3000 Diamond Dogs
28 Mobile Ballistae
59 Cannons
20 Flame Projectors
Canterburian Mages
Archmage Merlin Ambrosius
Sky Mage Rafale
Earth Mage Puissant Arbre
Imperial Knightly Orders
The Black Watch
22 Black Knights (Black Steel Armor and Weapons)
The Knights Lion
Grandmaster Konrad Hardbeak, (Orichalcum Katana, Runic Armor)
33 Knights of the Inner Circle (Black Steel Weapons)
250 Imperial Knights
300 Squires
600 Griffons-at-Arms
200 Diamond Knights
The Knights Talon
Grandmaster Colombroni Pigeonio (Orichalcum Blade, Runic Armor)
23 Knights of the Inner Circle (Black Steel Weapons)
300 Imperial Knights
250 Squires
500 Griffons-at-Arms
200 Diamond Knights
The Knights Panther
Grandmaster Adrian Dawnquill (Orichalcum Blade, Runic Armor)
28 Knights of the Inner Circle (Black Steel Weapons)
250 Imperial Knights
300 Squires
600 Griffons-at-Arms
200 Diamond Knights
Abolitionist Forces
4,500 Freedom Fighters
2,500 Polearms
2,000 Arbalists
9 Cannons
8 Maretonian Battle-Mages
Maretonian Royal Guard
1100 Pegasi Thunderers
400 Earth Pony Ground-Pounders
50 Unicorn Spell Soldiers
18 Maretonian Battle-Mages
There will be a 24 hour moratorium to allow for discussion before voting commences. Feel free to ask any questions if I failed to address anything important.
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Omake: Empire of Gryphus, from the Grand Global Encyclopedia, published ~30 AD
My first omake for any quest, here's an in-universe encyclopedia entry
Entry: Empire of Gryphus, from the Grand Global Encyclopedia, published ~30 AD [1]
The Empire of Gryphus (Herzlandisch: Gryphusisches Reich; Wingbard: Imperio di Grifo; Aquileian: Empire de Gryphus ), also known as the Second Griffon Empire (Her: Greifenreich; Win: Imperio Griffonico; Aqu: Empire des Griffons) is a monarchy in the northeastern coastal region of the continent of Westerland. [2] Gryphus' territory is composed of the provinces of Griffonia (Her: Griffonien), also known as the Heartland (Her: Herzland) and containing the capital of Gryphus Peak (Her: Gryphusberg) [3]; Wingbardy (Win: Wingbardia); Aquileia (Aqu: Aiglée); Kestrelland; and Südentor [4], as well as the twelve Free Cities of Feathersia, including Griffonstone (Her: Greifenstein) and Urbirdo. In addition, the Empire holds suzerainty over the Crystal Protectorate (Her: Kristallprotektorat or Kristalland) to the south of its main territory.
History
Founded in 7 AD [5] after the unification of the so-called "Three Kingdoms [6] and Twelve Cities'' of the early post-Discordian period, Gryphus has since its formation been under the rule of the House of Goldenfeather (Her: Goldenfeder), whose progenitor, Garrick Goldenfeather (known as Garrick the Great or Garrick the Golden), was crowned the first Imperator [7] after his defeat of King Cyrille of Aquileia. Over the next few decades, Emperor Garrick and his wife Empress Gabriella presided over an economic transformation never before seen in known history, featuring rapid industrialization of Gryphus, the creation of the Westerlandish continent's first professional standing army, and settlement of unclaimed land to the west. The protectorate of Kristalland was acquired after the defeat of King Sombra in the Winter War (Her: Winterkrieg) of 11-17 AD. In the years to come, Gryphian explorers and traders would make contact--sometimes forceful--with the three-tribe ponies of Maretonia, Canterbury, and Equestria; the eclectic mix of pirates living on Libertalia island; the dogs of the Emerald Isles; the seafaring deer jarldoms of greater Olenia [8]; and the assorted Minotaur Republics. While in some cases, such as Neighpon and Yakyakistan, the new contacts would become close allies, and in others would be strong trade partners, as with the Emerald Isles and the Minotaurs, there would also be hostilities, the most famous of these being the shadow war and later open conflict with Maretonia after that nation enslaved Gryphian citizens...
Demographics
Despite its name, the Empire of Gryphus is one of the most diverse nations in Westerland, and possible the world. Though in the beginning the majority of the populace was composed of griffons, the Pacts of the Packs radically changed the early realm's demographics by beginning the integration of the diamond dogs (Her: Diamanthunde) into the society of what was then the Kingdom of Griffonia. As the nascent empire took shape, the dog packs assimilated quickly, adopting the Imperator as the leader of the "Great Pack" that promised a safer and more prosperous future for their people. Once contact was established with the four khanates of early Yakyakistan and the Dragon-Empire of Neighpon, Gryphus began to see immigration of yaks, qilin, tanuki, kitsune, and oni as well. One of the largest non-griffon populations came with the liberation of Kristalland, whose equine inhabitants, known as the crystal ponies (Herz: Kristallpferden) rapidly warmed up to the country that had defeated the mage-tyrant Sombra. The addition of the crystal ponies, and the beginning of their close relationship with griffonkind, soon brought about the creation of an entirely new hybrid species, the hippogriffs, produced by the interbreeding of equines and griffons. Deer and three-tribe ponies also immigrated, though in relatively small numbers; many of the three-tribe ponies arrived as freedfolk who had been liberated from slavery in Maretonia.
The Empire has no single state religion; neither are any faiths banned within its borders. On the national level, all major religions are represented in a Council of Faiths (Religiöser Rat), which serves as a forum where the most prominent leaders of the religions may voice their concerns and make requests of the Emperor. Currently, the Empire's largest religions are Old Imperial Polytheism, the Devotion of the Crystal Heart, Neighponjin Spiritualism, Yak Shamanism, the Church of the Lady of the Lake, and the newly-founded Cult worshiping the Imperial family. None of these religions make up a majority across the whole Empire, though the Crystal Heart is worshiped by the majority of Kristalland's population.
Economy
Since the invention of the steam engine in 19 AD, the Empire of Gryphus has focused its economic energies toward industrial pursuits, built on a foundation of innovative agricultural and aquacultural techniques. Most production in the empire is carried out en masse in factories, machine tools are in common use, and blast furnaces allow the smelting of even the rare and ultra-dense orichalcum ore, used to create anti-magic weapons and armor. The first steam trains and lifting-gas airships were invented in Gryphus as well, and are now commonly seen plying various routes across the realm with greater speed than ever before. The first major rail line in the world is the Two Heartlands Line (Her: Zweie-Herzländer-Linie) between Gryphusberg/Gryphus Peak and Crystal City/Kristallstadt.
Gryphus maintains strong trade relations with several of its neighbors, including Neighpon, Yakyakistan, the Emerald Isles, the Minotaur Republics, and the deer jarldoms. Internally, the Gryphian government maintains the oldest central bank in the known world, and the oldest mint for paper currency…
Slavery is strictly outlawed in all regions of the Empire, and there is a deep-seated cultural loathing of the practice, though none can say where it originally came from. This caused significant obstacles to international relations with Maretonia before that country collapsed into civil war, especially since several Gryphusian citizens and those of Gryphus' ally Neighpon were enslaved in Maretonia for a time.
Foreign Relations [9]
Since the reunification of the Empire, Gryphus has contacted many other states that arose after the end of Discord's reign, or which somehow managed to avoid it altogether. The two nations closest to the Empire are the Dragon-Empire of Neighpon and the Khaganate [10] of Yakyakistan, both of whom sent military assistance to the griffon state during the Winterkrieg (in Yakyakistan's case, it was the four pre-unification khanates that participated), and both of whom remain military allied and economically intertwined. Gryphus also maintains good relations with the dog realm of the Emerald Isles, owing to their large population of diamond dogs. Libertalia, formerly a lawless pirate enclave, is now a center of above-board trade and industry, and is effectively an Imperial client state under Grand Captain Hoofbeard.
Relations with Canterbury, Minotauria, and the deer jarldoms are dominated by international trade due to the distances involved.
Before Maretonia's breakup, relations between them and the Empire were extremely poor due to the aforementioned issue of slavery; now, as Maretonia's civil war continues, Gryphus has thrown its considerable weight behind the Abolitionist faction in the north of the country, sending an army to intervene. Previously, they had encouraged the Royal Guard in Roam to intervene against the autocratic House Storm, which threatened to take over Maretonia due to the weakness of their aristocratic rivals in House White Star.
Finally, the most recent diplomatic contact was with the three-tribe ponies of the Diarchy of Equestria, who were first contacted indirectly when a Gryphusian expedition to Storm Country (yeti territory, not to be confused with Maretonia's House Storm) liberated several Equestrian explorers from slavery at the hands of the yetis. The Equestrians were brought to Gryphus for a time to recover, then brought back to their home country alongside a diplomatic team led by Imperial Kronprinz Gawain, who established official relations.
Military
At present, the Empire of Gryphus possesses the largest, and likely the most well-trained and -equipped, army in the known world. Though exact figures are state secrets, it is estimated that the armed forces number approximately 53,000 in terms of regular personnel, with around twenty-five ballistae and sixty field cannons, the largest gunpowder arsenal in existence. Alongside these longer-ranged weapons, the Empire also fields about twenty heavy stationary flamethrowers, which proved their worth in the Winterkrieg against King Sombra's army of crystal and ice. Much of this army is, as of this writing, moving south, through Kristalland and into Maretonia, to assist the Abolitionists in winning that country's civil war. Such a large force was only made possible through the progressive industrialization of Gryphus over the past three decades, a process which has generated tremendous quantities of wealth, food, and critical supplies.
Alongside the Regular Army (Her: Gryphusisches Heer, Win: Esercito Grifico, Aqu: Armée Gryphique), there exist four Imperial Knightly Orders (Her: Imperatorliche Ritterorden, Win: Ordini Milizziani Imperiali, Aqu: Ordres des Milites Impériale): the Knights Lion (Löwenritter), Knights Talon (Krallenritter, Win: Milizzi [11] Artigli), Knights Panther (Pantherritter, Aqu: Milites Panthères), and Crystal Guardians (Kristallwächter).
The Knights Lion are based out of the Lion's Den (Löwengrube) in the Griffonian Herzland. They are the largest of the four orders, and the oldest by far, predating the rise of Discord. The Knights Lion are led by Grandmaster (Hochmeister) Konrad Hardbeak, also known as Konrad Kingslayer, who first came to prominence by killing King Cyrille of Aquileia at the Battle of Wingbardy that immediately preceded the Empire's formation. Hardbeak and his knights are considered the guardians of the Herzland.
The Knights Talon are the first of two Ritterorden to come out of the Second Founding of 9 AD. They are the appointed guardians of Wingbardy, recruit from that province, and are based out of the Crow's Nest (Krähennest or Nido del Corvo) near the city of Wingbardo. The Knights Talon are led by Grandmaster (Granmaestro) Colombroni Pigeonio.
The Knights Panther are the second of the Second Founding Ritterorden. They are charged with defending Aquileia, and their base, the Black Fortress (Schwarze Festung or Chateau Noire [12]), is located outside of Aquiline. The Knights Panther are led by Grandmaster (Grand-Maître) Adrian Dawnquill.
The Crystal Guardians are the youngest Ritterorden, the only one of the Third Founding of 23 AD, and are unique in that their ranks are exclusively composed of crystal ponies. This is, naturally, due to their mission of defending Kristalland and the Empire's southern border, with their Ivory Keep being situated outside of Crystal City. They are led by Grandmaster Glimmer Shine, who gained prominence for leading "freedom patrols" along the Maretonian border, searching for slaves that had escaped to the north, who would then be brought to safety and freedom in the Empire.
In addition to the four Ritterorden, there is also the Black Watch (Her: Schwarzer Wacht or Schwarzwacht), which serves as the personal guard of the Imperial Household. These extremely skilled and high-quality knights, twenty-four in all, are led by Knights Lion Grandmaster Konrad Hardbeak, considered the finest knight in the Empire and a close confidant of the Emperor. The Black Watch derives its name from the blacksteel--orichalcum-steel alloy--armor and weapons used by its members, which dispels magical effects in addition to dealing wounds or protecting the knights.
All knights are selected from the most valorous members of the Heer or the naval Marine-Infanterie, and are held to extremely high standards of chivalry, individual conduct, and individual and group combat prowess. This is doubly true for the Black Watch, which is composed of the most skilled knights, selected by Hochmeister Hardbeak and approved by the Emperor.
The Navy (Herz: Gryphusisches Marine, Win: Marina Grifica, Aqu: Marine Gryphique) is the other major branch of the Gryphusian military, and is much smaller than the army. It consists of fifty-four ships; twenty ballista-armed cogs and thirty-four carrack gunships. In addition to its crew of regular sailors, each ship has a complement of artillerists and marines (Marine-Infanterie) to defend against other vessels and any boarders they may deploy. Much of the Marine's action is against pirates attacking trade lanes.
OOC Footnotes
[1] AD=After Discord. Turn 1 is 1 AD, Turn 2 is 2 AD, and so on until the latest turn and approximate date of this entry's publication, 30 AD.
[2] My provisional names for the continents are "Westerland" and "Easterland" for their relative positions on the map. If they're something else, I'll change the names to fit.
[3] Where is the capital? I put it as Gryphus Peak, or as I rendered it, Gryphusberg, since one of the earlier updates mentioned Garrick taking Gawain there one morning and I assumed it was more or less where his palace is, but I'm not sure if it's actually the capital.
[4] Kestrelland is Kestrella; I saw the name on the map and wasn't sure if Kestrella was the main city of the region or the name of the region itself, since it was the same size and font as the names of some cities, so I gave it a suffix and assumed that Kestrella was a city. Südentor is my name for the province containing the city(? Again, same problem as Kestrella) of Lanner; its name means "southern gate," maybe named after a mountain pass between the Empire and the Crystal Protectorate/Kristalland.
[5] At the start of Turn 7, for reference.
[6] Technically Wingbardy was a duchy, but "Three Kingdoms and Twelve Cities (of Feathersia)" sounds better. Of course, we don't know how many Feathersian cities there were in canon, but I'm going with twelve because it's a good number for that sort of thing.
[7] Imperator, not Kaiser, because Gaius Iulius Caesar never existed ITTL, but it's plausible that the Old Empire had the military title Imperator that later became a title for extremely powerful rulers. The language in-universe is, in my head, something like Old High or Old Western Griffonic, with Wingbardian and Aquileian being its daughter languages.
[8] Is the deer homeland Olenia? It's the name of one of the jarldoms there, and I think I saw it referring to the whole region, but I'm not sure. I originally was going to call it "Dadyrland," from the Icelandic for deer.
[9] The Crystal Protectorate/Kristalland, of course, doesn't fall into this category because they're an autonomous region of the Empire. Libertalia, on the other hand, does, because AFAIK the Empire hasn't proclaimed official suzerainty over it yet even though it's sort of a client state.
[10] While Yakyakistan is referred to in canon as a "Kingdom," and the old yak societies as "clans," they are supposed to be Mongolians; thus, each clan is a khanate ruled by a khan, and the greater yak realm is a khaganate ruled by Rutherford Khagan.
[11] From Old High/Western Griffonic milites, meaning soldier, rather than OTL Vulgar Latin caballus, meaning horse, since griffon knights don't ride horses, because horses are sophont beings here. I used milites because that's actually how knights were referred to in Latin during the Middle Ages, or at least early on. Funnily enough, it originally referred to infantry before it was applied to noble horsemen. As for the etymology of Herzlandisch Ritter, maybe from the root meaning "ride," in the sense that the knights would "ride the wind," rather than riding a horse--earlier form "windritter"?
[12] Technically the French/Aquileian name translates to "Black Castle" rather than "Fortress," but chateau just sounds far cooler than forteresse, don't you agree?
Edit: Added spacing between paragraphs and properly added footnote 12.
Entry: Empire of Gryphus, from the Grand Global Encyclopedia, published ~30 AD [1]
The Empire of Gryphus (Herzlandisch: Gryphusisches Reich; Wingbard: Imperio di Grifo; Aquileian: Empire de Gryphus ), also known as the Second Griffon Empire (Her: Greifenreich; Win: Imperio Griffonico; Aqu: Empire des Griffons) is a monarchy in the northeastern coastal region of the continent of Westerland. [2] Gryphus' territory is composed of the provinces of Griffonia (Her: Griffonien), also known as the Heartland (Her: Herzland) and containing the capital of Gryphus Peak (Her: Gryphusberg) [3]; Wingbardy (Win: Wingbardia); Aquileia (Aqu: Aiglée); Kestrelland; and Südentor [4], as well as the twelve Free Cities of Feathersia, including Griffonstone (Her: Greifenstein) and Urbirdo. In addition, the Empire holds suzerainty over the Crystal Protectorate (Her: Kristallprotektorat or Kristalland) to the south of its main territory.
History
Founded in 7 AD [5] after the unification of the so-called "Three Kingdoms [6] and Twelve Cities'' of the early post-Discordian period, Gryphus has since its formation been under the rule of the House of Goldenfeather (Her: Goldenfeder), whose progenitor, Garrick Goldenfeather (known as Garrick the Great or Garrick the Golden), was crowned the first Imperator [7] after his defeat of King Cyrille of Aquileia. Over the next few decades, Emperor Garrick and his wife Empress Gabriella presided over an economic transformation never before seen in known history, featuring rapid industrialization of Gryphus, the creation of the Westerlandish continent's first professional standing army, and settlement of unclaimed land to the west. The protectorate of Kristalland was acquired after the defeat of King Sombra in the Winter War (Her: Winterkrieg) of 11-17 AD. In the years to come, Gryphian explorers and traders would make contact--sometimes forceful--with the three-tribe ponies of Maretonia, Canterbury, and Equestria; the eclectic mix of pirates living on Libertalia island; the dogs of the Emerald Isles; the seafaring deer jarldoms of greater Olenia [8]; and the assorted Minotaur Republics. While in some cases, such as Neighpon and Yakyakistan, the new contacts would become close allies, and in others would be strong trade partners, as with the Emerald Isles and the Minotaurs, there would also be hostilities, the most famous of these being the shadow war and later open conflict with Maretonia after that nation enslaved Gryphian citizens...
Demographics
Despite its name, the Empire of Gryphus is one of the most diverse nations in Westerland, and possible the world. Though in the beginning the majority of the populace was composed of griffons, the Pacts of the Packs radically changed the early realm's demographics by beginning the integration of the diamond dogs (Her: Diamanthunde) into the society of what was then the Kingdom of Griffonia. As the nascent empire took shape, the dog packs assimilated quickly, adopting the Imperator as the leader of the "Great Pack" that promised a safer and more prosperous future for their people. Once contact was established with the four khanates of early Yakyakistan and the Dragon-Empire of Neighpon, Gryphus began to see immigration of yaks, qilin, tanuki, kitsune, and oni as well. One of the largest non-griffon populations came with the liberation of Kristalland, whose equine inhabitants, known as the crystal ponies (Herz: Kristallpferden) rapidly warmed up to the country that had defeated the mage-tyrant Sombra. The addition of the crystal ponies, and the beginning of their close relationship with griffonkind, soon brought about the creation of an entirely new hybrid species, the hippogriffs, produced by the interbreeding of equines and griffons. Deer and three-tribe ponies also immigrated, though in relatively small numbers; many of the three-tribe ponies arrived as freedfolk who had been liberated from slavery in Maretonia.
The Empire has no single state religion; neither are any faiths banned within its borders. On the national level, all major religions are represented in a Council of Faiths (Religiöser Rat), which serves as a forum where the most prominent leaders of the religions may voice their concerns and make requests of the Emperor. Currently, the Empire's largest religions are Old Imperial Polytheism, the Devotion of the Crystal Heart, Neighponjin Spiritualism, Yak Shamanism, the Church of the Lady of the Lake, and the newly-founded Cult worshiping the Imperial family. None of these religions make up a majority across the whole Empire, though the Crystal Heart is worshiped by the majority of Kristalland's population.
Economy
Since the invention of the steam engine in 19 AD, the Empire of Gryphus has focused its economic energies toward industrial pursuits, built on a foundation of innovative agricultural and aquacultural techniques. Most production in the empire is carried out en masse in factories, machine tools are in common use, and blast furnaces allow the smelting of even the rare and ultra-dense orichalcum ore, used to create anti-magic weapons and armor. The first steam trains and lifting-gas airships were invented in Gryphus as well, and are now commonly seen plying various routes across the realm with greater speed than ever before. The first major rail line in the world is the Two Heartlands Line (Her: Zweie-Herzländer-Linie) between Gryphusberg/Gryphus Peak and Crystal City/Kristallstadt.
Gryphus maintains strong trade relations with several of its neighbors, including Neighpon, Yakyakistan, the Emerald Isles, the Minotaur Republics, and the deer jarldoms. Internally, the Gryphian government maintains the oldest central bank in the known world, and the oldest mint for paper currency…
Slavery is strictly outlawed in all regions of the Empire, and there is a deep-seated cultural loathing of the practice, though none can say where it originally came from. This caused significant obstacles to international relations with Maretonia before that country collapsed into civil war, especially since several Gryphusian citizens and those of Gryphus' ally Neighpon were enslaved in Maretonia for a time.
Foreign Relations [9]
Since the reunification of the Empire, Gryphus has contacted many other states that arose after the end of Discord's reign, or which somehow managed to avoid it altogether. The two nations closest to the Empire are the Dragon-Empire of Neighpon and the Khaganate [10] of Yakyakistan, both of whom sent military assistance to the griffon state during the Winterkrieg (in Yakyakistan's case, it was the four pre-unification khanates that participated), and both of whom remain military allied and economically intertwined. Gryphus also maintains good relations with the dog realm of the Emerald Isles, owing to their large population of diamond dogs. Libertalia, formerly a lawless pirate enclave, is now a center of above-board trade and industry, and is effectively an Imperial client state under Grand Captain Hoofbeard.
Relations with Canterbury, Minotauria, and the deer jarldoms are dominated by international trade due to the distances involved.
Before Maretonia's breakup, relations between them and the Empire were extremely poor due to the aforementioned issue of slavery; now, as Maretonia's civil war continues, Gryphus has thrown its considerable weight behind the Abolitionist faction in the north of the country, sending an army to intervene. Previously, they had encouraged the Royal Guard in Roam to intervene against the autocratic House Storm, which threatened to take over Maretonia due to the weakness of their aristocratic rivals in House White Star.
Finally, the most recent diplomatic contact was with the three-tribe ponies of the Diarchy of Equestria, who were first contacted indirectly when a Gryphusian expedition to Storm Country (yeti territory, not to be confused with Maretonia's House Storm) liberated several Equestrian explorers from slavery at the hands of the yetis. The Equestrians were brought to Gryphus for a time to recover, then brought back to their home country alongside a diplomatic team led by Imperial Kronprinz Gawain, who established official relations.
Military
At present, the Empire of Gryphus possesses the largest, and likely the most well-trained and -equipped, army in the known world. Though exact figures are state secrets, it is estimated that the armed forces number approximately 53,000 in terms of regular personnel, with around twenty-five ballistae and sixty field cannons, the largest gunpowder arsenal in existence. Alongside these longer-ranged weapons, the Empire also fields about twenty heavy stationary flamethrowers, which proved their worth in the Winterkrieg against King Sombra's army of crystal and ice. Much of this army is, as of this writing, moving south, through Kristalland and into Maretonia, to assist the Abolitionists in winning that country's civil war. Such a large force was only made possible through the progressive industrialization of Gryphus over the past three decades, a process which has generated tremendous quantities of wealth, food, and critical supplies.
Alongside the Regular Army (Her: Gryphusisches Heer, Win: Esercito Grifico, Aqu: Armée Gryphique), there exist four Imperial Knightly Orders (Her: Imperatorliche Ritterorden, Win: Ordini Milizziani Imperiali, Aqu: Ordres des Milites Impériale): the Knights Lion (Löwenritter), Knights Talon (Krallenritter, Win: Milizzi [11] Artigli), Knights Panther (Pantherritter, Aqu: Milites Panthères), and Crystal Guardians (Kristallwächter).
The Knights Lion are based out of the Lion's Den (Löwengrube) in the Griffonian Herzland. They are the largest of the four orders, and the oldest by far, predating the rise of Discord. The Knights Lion are led by Grandmaster (Hochmeister) Konrad Hardbeak, also known as Konrad Kingslayer, who first came to prominence by killing King Cyrille of Aquileia at the Battle of Wingbardy that immediately preceded the Empire's formation. Hardbeak and his knights are considered the guardians of the Herzland.
The Knights Talon are the first of two Ritterorden to come out of the Second Founding of 9 AD. They are the appointed guardians of Wingbardy, recruit from that province, and are based out of the Crow's Nest (Krähennest or Nido del Corvo) near the city of Wingbardo. The Knights Talon are led by Grandmaster (Granmaestro) Colombroni Pigeonio.
The Knights Panther are the second of the Second Founding Ritterorden. They are charged with defending Aquileia, and their base, the Black Fortress (Schwarze Festung or Chateau Noire [12]), is located outside of Aquiline. The Knights Panther are led by Grandmaster (Grand-Maître) Adrian Dawnquill.
The Crystal Guardians are the youngest Ritterorden, the only one of the Third Founding of 23 AD, and are unique in that their ranks are exclusively composed of crystal ponies. This is, naturally, due to their mission of defending Kristalland and the Empire's southern border, with their Ivory Keep being situated outside of Crystal City. They are led by Grandmaster Glimmer Shine, who gained prominence for leading "freedom patrols" along the Maretonian border, searching for slaves that had escaped to the north, who would then be brought to safety and freedom in the Empire.
In addition to the four Ritterorden, there is also the Black Watch (Her: Schwarzer Wacht or Schwarzwacht), which serves as the personal guard of the Imperial Household. These extremely skilled and high-quality knights, twenty-four in all, are led by Knights Lion Grandmaster Konrad Hardbeak, considered the finest knight in the Empire and a close confidant of the Emperor. The Black Watch derives its name from the blacksteel--orichalcum-steel alloy--armor and weapons used by its members, which dispels magical effects in addition to dealing wounds or protecting the knights.
All knights are selected from the most valorous members of the Heer or the naval Marine-Infanterie, and are held to extremely high standards of chivalry, individual conduct, and individual and group combat prowess. This is doubly true for the Black Watch, which is composed of the most skilled knights, selected by Hochmeister Hardbeak and approved by the Emperor.
The Navy (Herz: Gryphusisches Marine, Win: Marina Grifica, Aqu: Marine Gryphique) is the other major branch of the Gryphusian military, and is much smaller than the army. It consists of fifty-four ships; twenty ballista-armed cogs and thirty-four carrack gunships. In addition to its crew of regular sailors, each ship has a complement of artillerists and marines (Marine-Infanterie) to defend against other vessels and any boarders they may deploy. Much of the Marine's action is against pirates attacking trade lanes.
OOC Footnotes
[1] AD=After Discord. Turn 1 is 1 AD, Turn 2 is 2 AD, and so on until the latest turn and approximate date of this entry's publication, 30 AD.
[2] My provisional names for the continents are "Westerland" and "Easterland" for their relative positions on the map. If they're something else, I'll change the names to fit.
[3] Where is the capital? I put it as Gryphus Peak, or as I rendered it, Gryphusberg, since one of the earlier updates mentioned Garrick taking Gawain there one morning and I assumed it was more or less where his palace is, but I'm not sure if it's actually the capital.
[4] Kestrelland is Kestrella; I saw the name on the map and wasn't sure if Kestrella was the main city of the region or the name of the region itself, since it was the same size and font as the names of some cities, so I gave it a suffix and assumed that Kestrella was a city. Südentor is my name for the province containing the city(? Again, same problem as Kestrella) of Lanner; its name means "southern gate," maybe named after a mountain pass between the Empire and the Crystal Protectorate/Kristalland.
[5] At the start of Turn 7, for reference.
[6] Technically Wingbardy was a duchy, but "Three Kingdoms and Twelve Cities (of Feathersia)" sounds better. Of course, we don't know how many Feathersian cities there were in canon, but I'm going with twelve because it's a good number for that sort of thing.
[7] Imperator, not Kaiser, because Gaius Iulius Caesar never existed ITTL, but it's plausible that the Old Empire had the military title Imperator that later became a title for extremely powerful rulers. The language in-universe is, in my head, something like Old High or Old Western Griffonic, with Wingbardian and Aquileian being its daughter languages.
[8] Is the deer homeland Olenia? It's the name of one of the jarldoms there, and I think I saw it referring to the whole region, but I'm not sure. I originally was going to call it "Dadyrland," from the Icelandic for deer.
[9] The Crystal Protectorate/Kristalland, of course, doesn't fall into this category because they're an autonomous region of the Empire. Libertalia, on the other hand, does, because AFAIK the Empire hasn't proclaimed official suzerainty over it yet even though it's sort of a client state.
[10] While Yakyakistan is referred to in canon as a "Kingdom," and the old yak societies as "clans," they are supposed to be Mongolians; thus, each clan is a khanate ruled by a khan, and the greater yak realm is a khaganate ruled by Rutherford Khagan.
[11] From Old High/Western Griffonic milites, meaning soldier, rather than OTL Vulgar Latin caballus, meaning horse, since griffon knights don't ride horses, because horses are sophont beings here. I used milites because that's actually how knights were referred to in Latin during the Middle Ages, or at least early on. Funnily enough, it originally referred to infantry before it was applied to noble horsemen. As for the etymology of Herzlandisch Ritter, maybe from the root meaning "ride," in the sense that the knights would "ride the wind," rather than riding a horse--earlier form "windritter"?
[12] Technically the French/Aquileian name translates to "Black Castle" rather than "Fortress," but chateau just sounds far cooler than forteresse, don't you agree?
Edit: Added spacing between paragraphs and properly added footnote 12.
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- Location
- Novi Sad
Personally I would like to destroy the army in the valley, both to allow us easier logistics and to remove the possibility of an rear attack by that army or harassment by the same and in general remove able bodied soldiers from the enemy's ranks.
But there are some factors that make me leery of that, first it will be fortified so it will be difficult to fight.
Second and perhaps more important Pegicles chose this place for a reason, it would not surprise me that he perhaps set the valley to flood or experience a landslide if we decide to commit
But there are some factors that make me leery of that, first it will be fortified so it will be difficult to fight.
Second and perhaps more important Pegicles chose this place for a reason, it would not surprise me that he perhaps set the valley to flood or experience a landslide if we decide to commit
LiamOfOrmonde
67% lewd. Oh my!
- Location
- Florida Sometimes
Hey a couple of the pictures seem to be broken.
- Location
- Florida
Lol I can't help but look back at the past couple threadmarks focusing heavily on the different cultural norms and mindsets of Ponies and Griffons.
The images aren't loading properly.
ConfusedCanuck
Where did it all go wrong?
- Location
- Neverland
I just say we go for the direct confrontation we have a major advantage in troops here and a single decisive strike would end this quickly before it can drag us into a drawn out conflict. That and I'd say on a one to one basis our troops are equal to his at worst and superior at best and that's not including the various Knight's we have and Magical parity we also have.
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Given Pegicles seems to love WMDs and scorched earth style attacks, I wound't be surprised if that was the case.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
I agree with @uztgft
A quick victory in Direct Confrontation would be great and we have the theoretical ability to pull it off. Though that relies on Pegicles making unforced errors.
On the other hand, I'm skeptical of how successful taking the long way would be. The enemy army is made up of weather-controlling flyers. We'd be stretching our supply chain and leaving our marching column open to a campaign of harassment.
A quick victory in Direct Confrontation would be great and we have the theoretical ability to pull it off. Though that relies on Pegicles making unforced errors.
On the other hand, I'm skeptical of how successful taking the long way would be. The enemy army is made up of weather-controlling flyers. We'd be stretching our supply chain and leaving our marching column open to a campaign of harassment.
FictionPack
Monochromatic Ursine
- Location
- Tennessee
- Pronouns
- He/Him
He Ain't Gonna Fly No More
By Gabriella Golden-Feather
~Oh he was just a rookie trooper and he surely shook with fright.
He checked all his equipment and made sure his armor straps were tight.
He had to sit and listen to those awesome cannons roar.
And he ain't gonna fly no more!~
~The days he'd lived and loved and laughed went running through his mind.
He thought about the girl he left, the one he'd left behind.
He thought about the medics and he wondered what they'd find.
And he ain't gonna fly no more!~
~He hit the ground, the sound was splat, his blood went spurting high;
His comrades they were heard to say, "A helluva way to die";
He lay there rolling 'round amidst the welter of his gore.
And he ain't gonna fly no more!~
~There was blood upon his scabbard, there were brains upon the grass.
They found his wings a hundred yards out from his sorry ass.
He was a mess, they picked him up and poured him into a glass.
He ain't gonna fly no more!~
~Gory, Gory, What a helluva way to die!
Gory, Gory, What a helluva way to die!
Gory, Gory, What a helluva way to die!
He ain't gonna fly no moooore!~
I just thought I'd put the whole song together unbroken by story.
By Gabriella Golden-Feather
~Oh he was just a rookie trooper and he surely shook with fright.
He checked all his equipment and made sure his armor straps were tight.
He had to sit and listen to those awesome cannons roar.
And he ain't gonna fly no more!~
~The days he'd lived and loved and laughed went running through his mind.
He thought about the girl he left, the one he'd left behind.
He thought about the medics and he wondered what they'd find.
And he ain't gonna fly no more!~
~He hit the ground, the sound was splat, his blood went spurting high;
His comrades they were heard to say, "A helluva way to die";
He lay there rolling 'round amidst the welter of his gore.
And he ain't gonna fly no more!~
~There was blood upon his scabbard, there were brains upon the grass.
They found his wings a hundred yards out from his sorry ass.
He was a mess, they picked him up and poured him into a glass.
He ain't gonna fly no more!~
~Gory, Gory, What a helluva way to die!
Gory, Gory, What a helluva way to die!
Gory, Gory, What a helluva way to die!
He ain't gonna fly no moooore!~
I just thought I'd put the whole song together unbroken by story.
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- Location
- Toril
Same for me.
Me too. The first and third one, to be exact.
- Location
- SF Bay Area
How is the fight for Air Superiority going? I mean we ARE griffons after all. Might be something to a tactic of some forward groups taking out scouts of Pegicles so he has poor intelligence. We can't split the army and do both options since I have a feeling that somehow the "Canterbury" Officers will be in a position to succeed.
We unfortunately also have to consider the unseen third party in this... Phalanx. What outcome are THEY shooting for and how can we work that into our strategy? We don't have to outplay her, just align our goals and strategies so that she has as little opportunity to mess us over
We unfortunately also have to consider the unseen third party in this... Phalanx. What outcome are THEY shooting for and how can we work that into our strategy? We don't have to outplay her, just align our goals and strategies so that she has as little opportunity to mess us over
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I only wish there was a way to both like and put informative on this post. This could be a very well done after action report from Celestia and Luna Spies/Diplomatic corps
FictionPack
Monochromatic Ursine
- Location
- Tennessee
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I think it'd be best to just push straight on through.
Enemies at our back when we have to rely on a strained supply line is far riskier than whatever we may find in the valley. Simply because without the supply line we basically lose the entire army.
Also, our victory here would work as a great intimidation tactic if it goes reasonably well.
Enemies at our back when we have to rely on a strained supply line is far riskier than whatever we may find in the valley. Simply because without the supply line we basically lose the entire army.
Also, our victory here would work as a great intimidation tactic if it goes reasonably well.
Red_Faux
私を終わらせる
- Location
- 'Straya M8
Well, I'm fairly certain the Church of the Lady of the Lake doesn't have enough of a presence to have spot of the council of faiths. Also, aren't we kinda soft confining that entire religion, as its, yknow, a tool of power of a hive of hostile changelings?
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- Location
- United States
It seems almost certain that Pegicles will try to sucker our troops in before collapsing the mountains on us, or some other form of magical environmental manipulation that'd be a lot less power-intensive than the previously displayed WMDs. That being said, we still need to deal with the enemy force and can absorb a great deal more casualties than our foe. Our logistics will be the Achilles heel of our massive army, so in the end, forcing the pass and dealing with the enemy trick is probably worth the bloodshed.
